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THE 


LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES 


OF 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT 


\'   (sAuwj 

(5  l| 


^■-^->     ■>" 


l_  O   f-Y    O    O    N    . 


n'DQ£:.G^LlllY. 


THE 


LIFE    AND    ADVENTUEES 


OF 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT. 


BY    CHARLES    DICKENS. 


WITH     ILLUSTRATIONS     BY     PHIZ. 


LONDON: 
CHAPMAN    AND    HALL,    186,    STRAND. 


MDCCCXLIV, 


LONDON  : 

BRADBURY   AND  EVANS,   PRINTERS,   WHITEFRtARS. 


TO 

MISS   BURDETT   COUTTS, 

IS    DEDICATED, 

WITH     TEE     TRUE    AND     EARNEST    REGARD 
OP 

THE   AUTHOR. 


PREFACE. 


I  ATTACH  a  few  preliminary  words  to  the  Life  and  Adventures 
OP  Martin  Chuzzlewit  :  more  because  I  am  unwilling  to  depart 
from  any  custom  which  has  become  endeared  to  me  by  having 
prevailed  between  myself  and  my  readers  on  former  occasions 
of  the  same  kind,  than  because  I  have  anything  particular 
to  say. 

Like  a  troublesome  guest  who  lingers  in  the  Hall  after  he 
has  taken  leave,  I  cannot  help  loitering  on  the  threshold  of 
my  book,  though  those  two  words.  The  End  :  anticipated 
through  twenty  months,  yet  sorrowfully  penned  at  last :  stare 
at  me,  in  capitals,  from  the  printed  page. 

I  set  out,  on  this  journey  which  is  now  concluded  ;  with  the 
design  of  exhibiting,  in  various  aspects,  the  commonest  of  all 
the  vices.  It  is  almost  needless  to  add,  that  the  commoner 
the  folly  or  the  crime  which  an  author  endeavours  to  illustrate, 
the  greater  is  the  risk  he  runs  of  being  charged  with  exagge- 
ration ;  for,  as  no  man  ever  yet  recognised  an  imitation  of 
himself,  no  man  will  admit  the  correctness  of  a  sketch  in 
which  his  own  character  is  delineated,  however  faithfully. 


Viii  PREFACE. 

But,  although  Mr.  Pecksniff  will  by  no  means  concede  to 
me,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  is  natural ;  I  am  consoled  by  finding 
him  keenly  susceptible  of  the  truthfulness  of  Mrs.  Gamp. 
And  though  Mrs.  Gamp  considers  her  own  portrait  to  be 
quite  unlike,  and  altogether  out  of  drawing ;  she  recompenses 
me  for  the  severity  of  her  criticism  on  that  failure,  by  awarding 
unbounded  praise  to  the  picture  of  Mrs.  Prig. 

I  have  endeavoured  in  the  progress  of  this  Tale,  to  resist  the 
temptation  of  the  current  Monthly  Number,  and  to  keep  a 
steadier  eye  upon  the  general  purpose  and  design.  With  this 
object  in  view,  I  have  put  a  strong  constraint  upon  myself  from 
time  to  time,  in  many  places ;  and  I  hope  the  story  is  the  better 
for  it,  now. 

At  any  rate,  if  my  readers  have  derived  but  half  the  pleasure 
and  interest  from  its  perusal,  which  its  composition  has  afforded 
me,  I  have  ample  reason  to  be  gratified.  And  if  they  part 
from  any  of  my  visionary  friends,  with  the  least  tinge  of  that 
reluctance  and  regret  which  I  feel  in  dismissing  them  ;  my 
success  has  been  complete,  indeed. 


London, 
Twenty -Ji/th  June,  1844. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  I. — Introductory,  concerning  the  Pedigree  of  the  Chuzzlewit 

Family       .......•! 

Chap.  II. — Wherein  certain  Persons  are  presented  to  the  Reader,  with 

whom  he  may,  if  he  please,  become  better  acquainted       .  .  6 

Chap.  III. — In  which  certain  other  Persons  are  introduced ;   on  the 

same  Terms  as  in  the  last  Chapter  .  .  .  .19 

Chap.  IV. — From  which  it  will  appear  that  if  Union  be  Strength,  and 
Family  Affection  be  pleasant  to  contemplate,  the  Chuzzlewits  were 
the  strongest  and  most  agreeable  Family  in  the  World      .  .         33 

Chap.  V. — Containing  a  full  Account  of  the  Installation  of  Mr.  Peck- 
sniffs new  Pupii  into  the  Bosom  of  jMr.  Pecksniff's  Family.  With 
all  the  Festivities  held  on  that  Occasion,  and  the  great  Enjoyment 
of  Mr.  Pinch  .......        48 

Chap.  VI. — Comprises,  among  other  important  Matters,  Pecksniffian 
and  Architectural,  an  exact  Relation  of  the  Progress  made  by 
Mr.  Pinch  in  the  Confidence  and  Friendship  of  the  New  Pupil      .         65 

Chap.  VII. — In  which  Mr.  Chevy  Slyme  asserts  the  Independence  of 

his  Spirit ;  and  the  Blue  Dragon  loses  a  Limb        .  .  .76 

Chap.  VIII. — Accompanies  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  charming  Daughters 
to  the  City  of  London  ;  and  relates  what  fell  out,  upon  their  way 
thither        ........         88 

Chap.  IX. — Town  and  Todgers's  .....         97 

Chap.  X. — Containing  strange  Matter  ;  on  which  many  Events  in  this 

History,  may,  for  their  good  or  evil  Influence,  chiefly  depend        .       117 

Chap.  XI. — Wherein  a  certain  Gentleman  becomes  particular  in  his 
Attentions  to  a  certain  Lady  ;  and  more  Coming  Events  than  one, 
cast  their  Shadows  before  .  .  .  •  ,129 


X  CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

Chap.  XII. — Will  be  seen  in  the  Long  Run,  if  not  in  the  Short  One,  to 
concern  Mr.  Pinch  and  Others,  nearly.  Mr.  Pecksniff  asserts  the 
Dignity  of  outraged  Virtue  ;  and  Young  Martin  Chuzzlewit  forms 
a  desperate  Resolution        .  .  .  .  .  '145 

Chap.  XIIl. — Showing,  what  became  of  Martin  and  his  desperate 
Resolve,  after  he  left  Mr.  Pecksniff's  House  ;  what  Persons  he 
Encountered  ;  what  Anxieties  he  Suffered ;  and  what  News  he 
Heard  ........       161 

Chap.  XIV. — In  which  Martin  bids  Adieu  to  the  Lady  of  his  Love  ; 
and  Honours  an  obscure  Individual  whose  Fortune  he  intends  to 
make,  by  commending  her  to  his  Protection  .  .  .177 

Chap.  XV. — The  Burden  whereof,  is  Hail  Columbia  !  .  .       186 

Chap.  XVI. — Martin  Disembarks  from  that  noble  and  fast-sailing  Line 
of  Packet  Ship,  "  The  Screw,"  at  the  Port  of  New  York,  in  the 
United  States  of  America.  He  makes  soine  Acquaintances,  and 
Dines  at  a  Boarding-house.     The  Particulars  of  those  Transactions       193 

Chap.  XVII. — Martin  enlarges  his  Circle  of  Acquaintance  ;  increases 
his  Stock  of  Wisdom ;  and  has  an  excellent  Opportunity  of 
comparing  his  own  Experiences  with  those  of  Lummy  Ned  of 
the  Light  Salisbury,  as  related  by  his  Friend  Mr.  William  Simmons       210 

Chap.  XVIII. — Does  Business  with  the  House  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit 

and.  Son,  from  which  One  of  the  Partners  retires  unexpectedly      .       225 

Chap.  XIX. — The  Reader  is  brought  into  Communication  with  some 
Professional  Persons,  and  sheds  a  Tear  over  the  Filial  Piety  of 
good  Mr.  Jonas       ..,,.,,       233 

Chap.  XX. — Is„a  Chapter  of  Love        .,  .  .  .  .       246 

Chap.  XXI. — More  American  Experiences.  Martin  takes  a  Partner, 
and  makes  a  Purchase.  Some  Account  of  Eden,  as  it  appeared  on 
Paper.  Also  of  the  British  Lion.  Also  of  the  kind  of  Sympathy 
professed  and  entertained,  by  the  Watertoast  Association  of  United 
Sympathizers  .......       257 

Chap.  XXII. — From  which  it  will  be  seen  that  Martin  became  a  Lion 

on  his  own  Account.     Together  with  the  Reason  why     .  .       273 

Chap.  XXIII. — Martin  and  his  Partner  take  Possession  of  their  Estate. 

The  Joyful  Occasion  involves  some  further  Account  of  Eden         •       281 

Chap.  XXIV.— Reports  Progress  in  certain  homely  Matters  of  Love, 

Hatred,  Jealousy,  and  Revenge       .....       289 

Chap.  XXV. — Is  in  part  Professional ;  and  furnishes  the  Reader  with 
some  Valuable  Hints  in  relation  to  the  Management  of  a  Sick 
Chamber     ..,,...,      302 

Chap.  XXVI. — An  Unexpected  Meeting,  and  a  Promising  Prospect     .       314 


CONTENTS.  XI 

PAGE 

Chap.  XXVII. — Showing  that  Old  Friends  may  not  only  appear  with 
New  Faces,  but  in  False  Colours.  That  People  are  prone  to 
Bite  ;  and  that  Biters  may  sometimes  be  Bitten    .  .  .       321 

Chap.  XXVIII. — Mr.  Montague  at  Home.     And  Mr.  Jonas  Chuzzlewit 

at  Home     .........      337 

Chap.  XXIX. — In  which  some  People  are  Precocious,  others  Pro- 
fessional, and  others  Mysterious  :  all  in  their  several  Ways  .      345 

Chap.  XXX. — Proves  that  Changes  may  be  rung  in  the  best-regulated 
Families,  and  that  IVIr.  Pecksniff  was  a  special  hand  at  a  Triple- 
Bob-Major  .  .  .  ;  .  ;  .       353 

Chap.  XXXI. — Mr.  Pinch  is  discharged  of  a  Duty  which  he  never 
owed  to  Anybody  ;  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  discharges  a  Duty  which 
he  owes  to  Society  ......      365 

Chap.  XXXII. — Treats  of  Todgers's  again  ;  and  of  another  Blighted 

Plant  besides  the  Plants  upon  the  Leads    ....       380 

Chap.  XXXIII. — Further  Proceedings  in  Eden,  and  a  Proceeding  out 

of  it.     Martin  makes  a  Discovery  of  some  importance        .  .       385 

Chap.  XXXIV. — In   which   the    Travellers   move    Homeward,   and 

Encounter  some  Distinguished  Characters  upon  the  Way  .       398 

Chap.  XXXV. — Arriving  in  England,  Martin  witnesses  a  Ceremony, 
from  which  he  derives  the  cheering  Information  that  he  has  not 
been  Forgotten  in  his  Absence       .....       411 

Chap.   XXXVI. — Tom  Pinch  departs  to  seek   his   Fortune.     What 

he  finds  at  starting  .  .  .  .  .  ,417 

Chap.  XXX VII. — Tom  Pinch,  going  Astray,  finds  that  he  is  not  the 
only  Person  in  that  Predicament.  He  Retaliates  upon  a  fallen 
Foe "...      433 

Chap.  XXXVIII.— Secret  Ser\'ice 441 

Chap.  XXXIX. — Containing  some  further  Particulars  of  the  Domestic 
Economy  of  the  Pinches ;  with  strange  News  from  the  City, 
narrowly  concerning  Tom  .....       449 

Chap.  XL. — The  Pinches  make  a  New  Acquaintance,  and  have  fresh 

occasion  for  Surprise  and  Wonder  ....       462 

Chap.  XLI. — Mr.  Jonas  and  his  Friend,  arriving  at  a  Pleasant  Under- 
standing, set  forth  upon  an  Enterprise       ....       473 

Chap.  XLII. — Continuation  of  the  Entei-prise  of  Mr.  Jonas  and  his 

Friend       . 481 

Chap.  XLIII. — Has  an  Influence  on  the  Fortunes  of  several  People. 
Mr.  Pecksniff  is  exhibited  in  the  Plenitude  of  Power  ;  and  wields 
the  same  with  Fortitude  and  Magnanimity  .  •  .       489 


Xll  CONTENTS. 


PAGS 


Chap.  XLIV. — Further  Continuation  of  the  Enterprise  of  Mr.  Jonas 

and  his  Friend       .......       505 

Chap.  XLV. — In  which  Tom  Pinch  and  his  Sister  take  a  little  Plea- 
sure ;  but  quite  in  a  Domestic  Way,  and  with  no  Ceremony 
about  it  .......      513 

Chap.  XL VI. — In  which  Miss  Pecksniff  makes  Love,  Mr.  Jonas 
makes  Wrath,  Mrs.  Gamp  makes  Tea,  and  Mr.  Chuffey  makes 
Business     ........       520 

Chap,  XL VII. — Conclusion  of  the  Enterprise  of  Mr.  Jonas  and  his 

Friend        ........       537 

Chap.  XLVIII. — Bears  Tidings  of  Martin,  and  of  Mark,  as  well  as  of 
a  Third  Person  not  quite  unknown  to  the  Reader.  Exhibits  Filial 
Piety  in  an  Ugly  Aspect ;  and  casts  a  doubtful  Ray  of  Light  upon 
a  very  Dark  Place  ......       545 

Chap.  XLIX. — In  which  Mrs.  Harris,  assisted  by  a  Teapot,  is  the  cause 

of  a  Division  between  Friends       .....      558 

Chap.  L. — Surprises  Tom  Pinch  very  much,  and  shows  how  certain 

Confidences  passed  between  Him  and  his  Sister    .  .  .      568 

Chap.  LI. — Sheds  New  and  Brighter  Light  upon  the  very  Dark  Place  ; 
and  contains  the  Sequel  of  the  Enterprise  of  Mr.  Jonas  and  his 
Friend       ........       577 

Chap.  LII. — In  which  the   Tables  are   Turned,  completely  Upside 

Dow^n  ........      593. 

Chap.  LIII. — What  John  Westlock  said  to  Tom  Pinch's  Sister  ;  what 
Tom  Pinch's  Sister  said  to  John  Westlock ;  what  Tom  Pinch 
^aid  to  both  of  them  ;  and  how  they  all  passed  the  Remaindei"  of 
the  Day      ........       608 

Chap.  LIV. — Gives  the  Author  great  Concern.     For  it  is  the  Last 

in  the  Book  .......      615 


LIST  OF  PLATES. 


MEEKNESS   OF   MR.    PECKSNIFF    AND    HIS   CHARMING   DAUGHTERS     . 

MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT   SUSPECTS   THE    LANDLADY    WITHOUT   ANY    REASON 

PLEASANT   LITTLE   FAMILY    PARTY   AT   MR.    PECKSNIFF'S 

PINCH    STARTS   HOMEWARD   WITH   THE  NEW    PUPIL  .  «  .  . 

MR.    PINCH    AND   THE    NEW    PUPIL   ON   A   SOCIAL   OCCASION       . 

MARK   BEGINS   TO   BE  JOLLY  UNDER  CREDITABLE   CIRCUMSTANCES 

MRS.   TODGERS   AND   THE   PECKSNIFFS   CALL    UPON    MISS    PINCH 

TROTH   PREVAILS,  AND   VIRTUE    IS   TRIUMPHANT 

MR.    JONAS   CHUZZLEWIT   ENTERTAINS    HIS   COUSINS  .... 

MR.    PECKSNIFF    RENOUNCES   THE   DECEIVER 

MARTIN   MEETS   AN   ACQUAINTANCE   AT   THE    HOUSE    OF    A   MUTUAL   RELATION 

MR.   TAPLEY   ACTS   THIRD   PARTY   WITH    GREAT   DISCRETION 

MR.   JEFFERSON   BRICK    PROPOSES   AN   APPROPRIATE   SENTIMENT  . 

MR.  TAPLEY    SUCCEEDS    IN   FINDING   A   JOLLY   SUBJECT   FOR   CONTEMPLATION 

THE    DISSOLUTION'    OF    PARTNERSHIP 

MR.    PECKSNIFF    ON   HIS   MISSION , 

THE   THRIVING   CITY    OF    EDEN   AS    IT    APPEARED    ON    PAPER    ^      . 

THE    THRIVING    CITY    OF    EDEN    AS    IT    APPEARED    IN    FACT        ... 

BALM   FOR   THE    WOUNDED    ORPHAN 

MRS.    GAMP   HAS    HER    EVE    ON    THE   FUTURE 

THE   BOARD  


PAGE 
H 

24 

42 
58 
70 
88 
103 
120 
138 
IGO 
166 
178 
190 
212 
232 
235 
268 
283 
296 
320 
327 


XIV  LIST    OF    PLATES. 

PAGE 

EASY    SHAVING              , 34& 

MR.    MODDLE   IS   BOTH    PARTICULAR   AND   PECULIAR    IN    HIS    ATTENTIONS        .            .  384 

MR.    PECKSNIFF    DISCHARGES   A   DUTY    WHICH    HE   OWES   TO    SOCIETY                   .      .  387 

MR.    TAPLEY   IS    RECOGNISED    BY    SOME   FELLOW-CITIZENS   OF    EDEN                   .            .  386- 

MARTIN    IS   MUCH    GRATIFIED   BY   AN    IMPOSING    CEREMONY                  .            .            .       .  415 

MR.    PINCH    DEPARTS   TO    SEEK    HIS   FORTUNE 419^^ 

MR.    NADGETT    BREATHES,    AS    USUAL,   AN    ATMOSPHERE   OF    MYSTERY         .            .      ,  448 

MR.    PINCH   AND   RUTH    UNCONSCIOUS   OF    A   VISITOR 452 

MYSTERIOUS   INSTALLATION    OF    MR.    PINCH                .            , 460 

MR.    JONAS   EXHIBITS   HIS   PRESENCE   OF    MIND 485 

MR.   PECKSNIFF    ANNOUNCES   HIMSELF    AS    THE   SHIELD   OF    VIRTUE            ,            .       .  497 

MR.    MODDLE   IS   LED   TO   THE   CONTEMPLATION    OF    HIS   DESTINY             ,            ,            .  521 

MRS.    GAMP   MAKES   TEA        .            ,            ..»,            .            ..            ..  528 

MRS.    GAMP   PROPOGES   A    TOAST ,            .            ...  563 

MR.    PINCH    IS   AMAZED   BY   AN   UNEXPECTED   APPARITION 576 

WARM   RECEPTION    OF    MR.    PECKSNIFF    BY   HIS   VENERABLE   FRIEND     .            ,            .  599 

THE   NUPTIALS  OF    MISS   PECKSNIFF    RECEIVE   A    TEMPORARY   CHECK         ,            .      .  622 


ERRATA. 


Page    5,  line  24  from  top,  strike  out  the  parenthetical  mark  after  "  consequently.'^ 

Page    6,  line  17         „         for  "  buildings"  read  "  building." 

Page     7,  line  28         „         for  "  swagger,"  read  "  swaggerer." 

Page  11,  line     7         „         for  "  of  pocketing  premiums,"  strike  out  "  of." 

Page  49,  line  40         „         for  "  she  knew,"  read  "  he  knew,"  ;  for  "  she  was  light,'' 

read  "  he  was  right." 
Page  108,  line  27       „         after  "  table  "  insert  "  beer." 
Page  223,  line  40       „         for  '*  appeared,"  read '^  appealed." 
Page  297,  line  41       „         for  **  foundst,"  read  "  foundest  ;"    for    "  wheczcdst,  " 

read  "wheezed;"     bottom  line,     for  "keptst,"    read 

"kept." 
Page  567,  line    9       „         strike  out   the  full  stop  after  "  his  own,"  and  before  "  I 

have  been." 
Page  576,  line  20       „         for  "  triumphed  purpose,"  read  "  triumphant  purpose." 


LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES 


OF 


MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT, 


CHAPTER  I. 


INTRODUCTORY,    CONCERXIXG   THE    PEDIGREE    0?    THE   CIIUZZLEWIT 

FAMILY. 

As  no  lady  or  gentleman,  -witli  any  claims  to  polite  breeding,  can 
possibly  sympathise  with  the  Chuzzlewit  Family  without  being  first 
assured  of  the  extreme  antiquity  of  the  race,  it  is  a  great  satisfaction  to 
know  that  it  undoubtedly  descended  in  a  direct  line  from  Adam  and 
Eve  ;  and  was,  in  the  very  earliest  times,  closely  connected  with  the 
agricultural  interest.  If  it  should  ever  be  urged  by  grudging  and 
malicious  persons,  that  a  Chuzzlewit,  in  any  period  of  the  family  history, 
displayed  an  overweening  amount  of  family  pride,  surely  the  weakness 
will  be  considered  not  only  pardonable  but  laudable,  when  the  immense 
superiority  of  the  house  to  the  rest  of  mankind,  in  respect  of  this  its 
ancient  origin,  is  taken  into  account. 

It  is  remarkable  that  as  there  was,  in  the  oldest  family  of  which  we 
have  any  record,  a  murderer  and  a  vagabond,  so  we  never  fail  to  meet, 
in  the  records  of  all  old  families,  with  innumerable  repetitions  of  the 
same  phase  of  character.  Indeed,  it  may  be  laid  down  as  a  general 
principle,  that  the  more  extended  the  ancestry,  the  greater  the  amount 
of  violence  and  vagabondism  ;  for  in  ancient  days,  those  two  amuse- 
ments, combining  a  wholesome  excitement  with  a  promising  means  of 
repairing  shattered  fortunes,  were  at  once  the  ennobling  pursuit  and  the 
healthful  recreation  of  the  Quality  of  this  land. 

Consequently,  it  is  a  source  of  inexpressible  comfort  and  happiness  to 
find,  that  in  various  periods  of  our  history,  the  Chuzzlewits  were  actively 
connected  with  divers  slaughterous  conspiracies  and  bloody  frays.  It  is 
further  recorded  of  them,  that  being  clad  from  head  to  heel  in  steel  of 
proof,  they  did  on  many  occasions  lead  their  leather-jerkined  soldiers  to 
the  death,  with  invincible  courage,  and  afterwards  return  home  gracefully 
to  their  relations  and  friends. 

B 


2  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  at  least  one  Chuzzlewit  came  over  with 
William  the  Conqueror.  It  does  not  appear  that  this  illustrious  ancestor 
"  came  over  "  that  monarchy  to  employ  the  vulgar  phrase,  at  any  sub- 
sequent period  :  inasmuch  as  the  Family  do  not  seem  to  have  been  ever 
greatly  distinguished  by  the  possession  of  landed  estate.  And  it  is  well 
known  that  for  the  bestowal  of  that  kind  of  property  upon  his  favorites, 
the  liberality  and  gratitude  of  the  Norman  were  as  remarkable,  as  those 
virtues  are  usually  found  to  be  in  great  men  when  they  give  away  what 
belongs  to  other  people. 

Perhaps  in  this  place  the  history  may  pause  to  congratulate  itself 
upon  the  enormous  amount  of  bravery,  wisdom,  eloquence,  virtue,  gentle 
birth,  and  true  nobility,  that  appears  to  have  come  into  England  with 
the  Norman  Invasion  :  an  amount  which  the  genealogy  of  every  ancient 
family  lends  its  aid  to  swell,  and  which  would  beyond  all  question  have 
been  found  to  be  just  as  great,  and  to  the  full  as  prolific  in  giving  birth 
to  long  lines  of  chivalrous  descendants,  boastful  of  their  origin,  even 
though  William  the  Conqueror  had  been  William  the  Conquered  :  a 
change  of  circumstances  which,  it  is  quite  certain,  would  have  made  no 
manner  of  difference  in  this  respect. 

There  was  unquestionably  a  Chuzzlewit  in  the  Gunpowder  Plot,  if 
indeed  the  arch-traitor,  Fawkes  himself,  were  not  a  scion  of  this  remark- 
able stock  ;  as  he  might  easily  have  been,  supposing  another  Chuzzlewit 
to  have  emigrated  to  Spain  in  the  previous  generation,  and  there  inter- 
married with  a  Spanish  lady,  by  whom  he  had  issue,  one  olive-com- 
plexioned  son.  This  probable  conjecture  is  strengthened,  if  not  abso- 
lutely confirmed,  by  a  fact  which  cannot  fail  to  be  interesting  to  those 
who  are  curious  in  tracing  the  progress  of  hereditary  tastes  through  the 
lives  of  their  unconscious  inheritors.  It  is  a  notable  circumstance  that  in 
these  later  times,  many  Chuzzlewits,  being  unsuccessful  in  other  pur- 
suits, have,  without  the  smallest  rational  hope  of  enriching  themselves^ 
or  any  conceivable  reason,  set  up  as  coal-merchants  ;  and  have,  month 
after  month,  continued  gloomily  to  watch  a  small  stock  of  coals,  without, 
in  any  one  instance,  negociating  with  a  purchaser.  The  remarkable 
similarity  between  this  course  of  proceeding  and  that  adopted  by  their 
Great  Ancestor  beneath  the  vaults  of  the  Parliament  House  at  West- 
minster, is  too  obvious  and  too  full  of  interest,  to  stand  in  need  of 
comment. 

It  is  also  clearly  proved  by  the  oral  traditions  of  the  Family,  that 
there  existed,  at  some  one  period  of  its  history  which  is  not  distinctly 
stated,  a  matron  of  such  destructive  principles,  and  so  familiarised  ta 
the  use  and  composition  of  inflammatory  and  combustible  engines,  that 
she  was  called  "  The  Mat<;'h  Maker  :  "  by  which  nickname  and  byword 
she  is  recognised  in  the  Family  legends  to  this  day.  Surely  there  can 
be  no  reasonable  doubt  that  this  was  the  Spanish  lady  :  the  mother  of 
Chuzzlewit  Fawkes. 

But  there  is  one  other  piece  of  evidence,  bearing  immediate  reference 
to  their  close  connexion  with  this  memorable  event  in  English^  History, 
which  must  carry  conviction,  even  to  a  mind  (if  such  a  mind  there  be) 
remaining  unconvinced  by  these  presumptive  proofs. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  3 

There  was,  within  a  few  years,  in  the  possession  of  a  highly  respectablo 
and  in  every  way  credible  and  unimpeachable  member  of  the  Chuzzlewit 
Family  (for  his  bitterest  enemy  never  dared  to  hint  at  his  being  other- 
wise than  a  wealthy  man),  a  dark  lantern  of  undoubted  antiquity ; 
rendered  still  more  interesting  by  being,  in  shape  and  pattern,  extremely 
like  such  as  are  in  use  at  the  present  day.  Now  this  gentleman,  since 
deceased,  was  at  all  times  ready  to  make  oath,  and  did  again  and  again 
set  forth  upon  his  solemn  asseveration,  that  he  had  frequently  heard  his 
grandmother  say,  when  contemplating  this  venerable  relic,  "  Aye,  aye  J 
This  was  carried  by  my  fourth  son  on  the  fifth  of  November,  when  he 
was  a  Guy  Fawkes."  These  remarkable  words  wrought  (as  well  they 
might)  a  strong  impression  on  his  mind,  and  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
repeating  them  very  often.  The  just  interpretation  which  they  bear, 
and  the  conclusion  to  which  they  lead,  are  triumphant  and  irresistible. 
The  old  lady,  naturally  strong-minded,  was  nevertheless  frail  and  fading  ; 
she  was  notoriously  subject  to  that  confusion  of  ideas,  or,  to  say  the 
least,  of  speech,  to  which  age  and  garrulity  are  liable.  The  slight,  the 
very  slight  confusion,  apparent  in  these  expressions,  is  manifest  and  is 
ludicrously  easy  of  correction.  "  Aye,  aye,"  quoth  she,  and  it  will  be 
observed  that  no  emendation  whatever  is  necessary  to  be  made  in  these 
two  initiative  remarks,  "  Aye,  aye  !  This  lantern  was  carried  by  my 
forefather" — not  fourth  son,  which  is  preposterous — "  on  the  fifth  of 
November.  And  he  was  Guy  Fawkes."  Here  we  have  a  remark  at 
once  consistent,  clear,  natural,  and  in  strict  accordance  with  the  character 
of  the  speaker.  Indeed  the  anecdote  is  so  plainly  susceptible  of  this 
meaning,  and  no  other,  that  it  would  be  hardly  worth  recording  in  its 
original  state,  were  it  not  a  proof  of  what  may  be  (and  very  often  is), 
effected  not  only  in  historical  prose  but  in  imaginative  poetry,  by  the 
exercise  of  a  little  ingenious  labour  on  the  part  of  a  commentator. 

It  has  been  said  that  there  is  no  instance  in  modern  times,  of  a 
Chuzzle^nt  having  been  found  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  the  Great. 
But  here  again  the  sneering  detractors  who  weave  such  miserable  fig- 
ments from  their  malicious  brains,  are  stricken  dumb  by  evidence.  For 
letters  are  yet  in  the  possession  of  various  branches  of  the  family,  from 
which  it  distinctly  appears,  being  stated  in  so  many  words,  that  one 
Diggory  Chuzzlewit  was  in  the  habit  of  perpetually  dining  with  Duke 
Humphrey.  So  constantly  was  he  a  guest  at  that  nobleman's  table, 
indeed  ;  and  so  unceasingly  were  His  Grace's  hospitality  and  companion- 
ship forced,  as  it  were,  upon  him  ;  that  we  find  him  uneasy,  and  full  of 
constraint  and  reluctance  :  writing  his  friends  to  the  effect  that  if  they 
fail  to  do  so  and  so  by  bearer,  he  will  have  no  choice  but  to  dine  again 
with  Duke  Humphrey  :  and  expressing  himself  in  a  very  marked  and 
extraordinary  manner  as  one  surfeited  of  High  Life  and  Gracious 
Company. 

It  has  been  rumoured,  and  it  is  needless  to  say  the  rumour  originated 
in  the  same  base  quarters,  that  a  certain  male  Chuzzlewit,  whose  birth 
must  be  admitted  to  be  involved  in  some  obscurity,  was  of  very  mean 
and  low  descent.  How  stands  the  proof  ?  When  the  son  of  that  Indi- 
vidual, to  whom  the  secret  of  his  father's  birth  was  supposed  to  have 


r:^/ 


LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 


been  communicated  by  his  father  in  his  lifetime,  lay  upon  his  death- 
bed, this  question  was  put  to  him,  in  a  distinct,  solemn,  and  formal  way  : 
"  Toby  Chuzzlewit^  who  was  your  grandfather  f  To  which  he,  v\dth  his 
last  breath,  no  less  distinctly,  solemnly,  and  formally  replied  :  and  his 
words  were  taken  down  at  the  time,  and  signed  by  six  witnesses,  each 
with  his  name  and  address  in  full :  "  The  Lord  No  Zoo."  It  may  be 
said — it  has  been  said,  for  human  wickedness  has  no  limits — that  there 
is  no  Lord  of  that  name,  and  that  among  the  titles  which  have  become 
extinct,  none  at  all  resembling  this,  in  sound  even,  is  to  be  discovered. 
But  what  is  the  irresistible  inference  ?  Rejecting  a  theory  broached  by 
some  well-meaning  but  mistaken  persons,  that  this  Mr.  Toby  Chuzzle- 
wit's  grandfather,  to  judge  from  his  name,  must  surely  have  been  a 
Mandarin  (which  is  wholly  insupportable,  for  there  is  no  pretence  of  his 
grandmother  ever  having  been  out  of  this  country,  or  of  any  Mandarin 
having  been  in  it  within  some  years  of  his  father's  birth  :  except  those 
in  the  tea-shops,  which  cannot  for  a  moment  be  regarded  as  having  any 
bearing  on  the  question,  one  way  or  other),  rejecting  this  hypothesis,  is 
it  not  manifest  that  Mr.  Toby  Chuzzlewit  had  either  received  the  name 
imperfectly  from  his  father,  or  that  he  had  forgotten  it,  or  that  he  had 
mispronounced  it  ?  and  that  even  at  the  recent  period  in  question,  the 
Ohuzzlewits  were  connected  by  a  bend  sinister,  or  kind  of  heraldic  over- 
the-left,  with  some  unknown  noble  and  illustrious  House  ? 

From  documentary  evidence,  yet  preserved  in  the  family,  the  fact  is 
clearly  established  that  in  the  comparatively  modern  days  of  the  Dig- 
gory  Chuzzlewit  before  mentioned,  one  of  its  members  had  attained  to 
very  great  wealth  and  influence.  Throughout  such  fragments  of  his 
correspondence  as  have  escaped  the  ravages  of  the  moths  (who,  in  right 
of  their  extensive  absorption  of  the  contents  of  deeds  and  papers,  may 
be  called  the  general  registers  of  the  Insect  World),  we  find  him  making 
constant  reference  to  an  uncle,  in  respect  of  whom  he  would  seem  to 
have  entertained  great  expectations,  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  seeking  to 
propitiate  his  favor  by  presents  of  plate,  jewels,  books,  watches,  and 
other  valuable  articles.  Thus,  he  writes  on  one  occasion  to  his  brother 
in  reference  to  a  gravy-spoon,  the  brother's  property,  which  he  (Diggory) 
would  appear  to  have  borrowed  or  otherwise  possessed  himself  of :  "  Do 
not  be  angry  I  have  parted  with  it — to  my  uncle."  On  another  occa- 
sion he  expresses  himself  in  a  similar  manner  with  regard  to  a  child's 
mug  which  had  been  entrusted  to  him  to  get  repaired.  On  another 
occasion  he  says,  "  I  have  bestowed  upon  that  irresistible  uncle  of  mine 
everything  I  ever  possessed."  And  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
paying  long  and  constant  visits  to  this  gentleman  at  his  mansion,  if 
indeed,  he  did  not  wholly  reside  there,  is  manifest  from  the  following 
sentence  :  "  With  the  exception  of  the  suit  of  clothes  I  carry  about  with 
me,  the  whole  of  my  wearing  apparel  is  at  present  at  my  uncle's."  This 
gentleman's  patronage  and  influence  must  have  been  very  extensive,  for 
his  nephew  writes,  "  His  interest  is  too  high" — "  It  is  too  much" — "  It 
is  tremendous" — and  the  like.  Still  it  does  not  appear  (which  is  strange) 
to  have  procured  for  him  any  lucrative  post  at  court  or  elsewhere,  or  to 
have  conferred  upon  him  any  other  distinction  than  that  which  was 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT. 


necessarily  included  in  tlie  countenance  of  so  great  a  man,  and  the  being 
invited  by  him  to  certain  entertainments,  so  splendid  and  costly  in  their 
nature  that  he  emphatically  calls  them  "  Golden  Balls." 

It  is  needless  to  multiply  instances  of  the  high  and  lofty  station,  and 
the  vast  importance  of  the  Chuzzlewits,  at  different  periods.  If  it  came 
within  the  scope  of  reasonable  probability  that  further  proofs  were 
required,  they  might  be  heaped  upon  each  other  until  they  formed  an 
Alps  of  testimony,  beneath  which  the  boldest  scepticism  should  be 
crushed  and  beaten  flat.  As  a  goodly  tumulus  is  already  collected,  and 
decently  battened  up  above  the  Family  grave,  the  present  chapter  is 
content  to  leave  it  as  it  is  :  merely  adding,  by  way  of  a  final  spadeful, 
that  many  Chuzzlewits,  both  male  and  female,  are  proved  to  demon- 
stration, on  the  faith  of  letters  written  by  their  own  mothers,  to  have 
had  chiselled  noses,  undeniable  chins,  forms  that  might  have  served  the 
sculptor  for  a  model,  exquisitely-turned  limbs,  and  polished  foreheads  of 
so  transparent  a  texture  that  the  blue  veins  might  be  seen  branching  off 
in  various  directions,  like  so  many  roads  on  an  ethereal  map.  This  fact 
in  itself,  though  it  had  been  a  solitary  one,  would  have  utterly  settled 
and  clenched  the  business  in  hand  ;  for  it  is  well  known,  on  the  autho- 
rity of  all  the  books  which  treat  of  such  matters,  that  every  one  of  these 
phenomena,  but  especially  that  of  the  chiselling,  are  invariably  peculiar 
to,  and  only  make  themselves  apparent  in,  persons  of  the  very  best 
condition. 

This  history,  having,  to  its  own  perfect  satisfaction,  (and,  consequently) 
to  the  full  contentment  of  all  its  readers,)  proved  the  Chuzzlewits  to  have 
had  an  origin,  and  to  have  been  at  one  time  or  other  of  an  importance 
which  cannot  fail  to  render  them  highly  improving  and  acceptable 
acquaintance  to  all  right-minded  individuals,  may  now  proceed  in  earnest 
with  its  task.  And  having  shown  that  they  must  have  had,  by  reason  of 
their  ancient  birth,  a  pretty  large  share  in  the  foundation  and  increase 
of  the  human  family,  it  will  one  day  become  its  province  to  submit,  that 
such  of  its  members  as  shall  be  introduced  in  these  pages,  have  still 
many  counterparts  and  prototypes  in  the  Great  World  about  us.  At 
present  it  contents  itself  with  remarking,  in  a  general  way,  on  this 
head  :  Firstly,  that  it  may  be  safely  asserted  and  yet  without  implying 
any  direct  participation  in  the  Monboddo  doctrine  touching  the  proba- 
bility of  the  human  race  having  once  been  monkeys,  that  men  do  play 
very  strange  and  extraordinary  tricks.  Secondly,  and  yet  without 
trenching  on  the  Blumenbach  theory  as  to  the  descendants  of  Adam 
having  a  vast  number  of  qualities  which  belong  more  particularly  to 
swine  than  to  any  other  class  of  animals  in  the  creation,  that  some  men 
certainly  are  remarkable  for  taking  uncommon  good  care  of  themselves. 


LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 


CHAPTER  II. 


WHEREIN      CERTAIN      PERSONS      ARE     PRESENTED     TO     THE     READER,      WITH 
WHOM     HE     MAY,     IF     HE     PLEASE,     BECOME     BETTER     ACQUAINTED. 

It  was  pretty  late  in  tlie  autumn  of  the  year,  when  the  declining  sun, 
struggling  through  the  mist  which  had  obscured  it  all  day,  looked 
brightly  down  upon  a  little  Wiltshire  village,  within  an  easy  journey  of 
the  fair  old  town  of  Salisbury. 

Like  a  sudden  flash  of  memory  or  spirit  kindling  up  the  mind  of  an 
old  man,  it  shed  a  glory  upon  the  scene,  in  which  its  departed  youth  and 
freshness  seemed  to  live  again.  The  wet  grass  sparkled  in  the  light ; 
the  scanty  patches  of  verdure  in  the  hedges — where  a  few  green  twigs 
yet  stood  together  bravely,  resisting  to  the  last  the  tyranny  of  nipping 
winds  and  early  frosts — took  heart  and  brightened  up ;  the  stream  which 
had  been  dull  and  sullen  all  day  long,  broke  out  into  a  cheerful  smile  ; 
the  birds  began  to  chirp  and  twitter  on  the  naked  boughs,  as  though  the 
hopeful  creatures  half  believed  that  winter  had  gone  by,  and  spring  had 
come  already.  The  vane  upon  the  tapering  spire  of  the  old  church 
glistened  from  its  lofty  station  in  sympathy  with  the  general  gladness  ; 
and  from  the  ivy-shaded  windows  such  gleams  of  light  shone  back  upon 
the  glowing  sky,  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  quiet  buildings  were  the 
hoarding-place  of  twenty  summers,  and  all  their  ruddiness  and  warmth 
were  stored  within. 

Even  those  tokens  of  the  season  which  emphatically  whispered  of  the 
coming  winter,  graced  the  landscape,  and,  for  the  moment,  tinged  its 
livelier  features  with  no  oppressive  air  of  sadness.  The  fallen  leaves, 
with  which  the  ground  was  strewn,  gave  forth  a  pleasant  fragrance,  and 
subduing  all  harsh  sounds  of  distant  feet  and  wheels,  created  a  repose  in 
gentle  unison  with  the  light  scatteiing  of  seed  hither  and  thither  by  the 
distant  husbandman,  and  with  the  noiseless  passage  of  the  plough  as  it 
turned  up  the  rich  brown  earth,  and  wrought  a  graceful  pattern  in  the 
stubbled  fields.  On  the  motionless  branches  of  some  trees,  autumn 
berries  hung  like  clusters  of  coral  beads,  as  in  those  fabled  orchards  where 
the  fruits  were  jewels  ;  others,  stripped  of  all  their  garniture,  stood,  each 
the  centre  of  its  little  heap  of  bright  red  leaves,  watching  their  slow 
decay  ;  others  again,  still  wearing  theirs,  had  them  all  crunched  and 
crackled  up,  as  though  they  had  been  burnt ;  about  the  stems  of  some 
were  piled,  in  ruddy  mounds,  the  apples  they  had  borne  that  year ;  while 
others  (hardy  evergreens  this  class)  showed  somewhat  stern  and  gloomy 
in  their  vigour,  as  charged  by  nature  with  the  admonition  that  it  is  not 
to  her  more  sensitive  and  joyous  favorites,  she  grants  the  longest  term  of 
life.  Still  athwart  their  darker  boughs,  the  sun-beams  struck  out  paths 
of  deeper  gold ;  and  the  red  light,  mantling  in  among  their  swarthy 
branches,  used  them  as  foils  to  set  its  brightness  off,  and  aid  the  lustre 
of  the  dying  day. 

A  moment,  and  its  glory  was  no  more.  The  sun  went  down  beneath 
the  long  dark  lines  of  hill  and  cloud  which  piled  up  in  the  west  an  airy 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  / 

city,  wall  heaped  on  wall,  and  battlement  on  battlement ;  the  light  was 
all  withdrawn  ;  the  shining  church  turned  cold  and  dark  ;  the  stream 
forgot  to  smile  ;  the  birds  were  silent ;  and  the  gloom  of  winter  dwelt 
on  everything. 

An  evening  wind  uprose  too,  and  the  slighter  branches  cracked  "and 
rattled  as  they  moved,  in  skeleton  dances,  to  its  moaning  music.  The 
withering  leaves  no  longer  quiet,  hurried  to  and  fro  in  search  of  shelter 
from  its  chill  pursuit ;  the  labourer  unyoked  his  horses,  and  with  head 
bent  down,  trudged  briskly  home  beside  them  ;  and  from  the  cottage 
windows,  lights  began  to  glance  and  wink  upon  the  darkening  fields. 

Then  the  village  forge  came  out  in  all  its  bright  importance.  The 
lusty  bellows  roared  Ha  ha  !  to  the  clear  fire,  which  roared  in  turn,  and 
bade  the  shining  sparks  dance  gaily  to  the  merry  clinking  of  the  ham- 
mers on  the  anvil.  The  gleaming  iron,  in  its  emulation,  sparkled  too, 
and  shed  its  red-hot  gems  around  profusely.  The  strong  smith  and  his 
men  dealt  such  strokes  upon  their  work,  as  made  even  the  melancholy 
night  rejoice  ;  and  brought  a  glow  into  its  dark  face  as  it  hovered  about 
the  door  and  windows,  peeping  curiously  in  above  the  shoulders  of  a 
dozen  loungers.  As  to  this  idle  company,  there  they  stood,  spellbound 
by  the  place,  and,  casting  now  and  then  a  glance  upon  the  darkness  in 
their  rear,  settled  their  lazy  elbows  more  at  ease  upon  the  sill,  and  leaned 
a  little  further  in  :  no  more  disposed  to  tear  themselves  away,  than  if 
they  had  been  born  to  cluster  round  the  blazing  hearth  like  so  many 
crickets. 

Out  upon  the  angry  wind  !  how  from  sighing,  it  began  to  bluster 
round  the  merry  forge,  banging  at  the  wicket,  and  grumbling  in  the 
chimney,  as  if  it  bullied  the  jolly  bellows  for  doing  anything  to  order. 
And  what  an  impotent  swagger  it  was  too,  for  all  its  noise  :  for  if  it  had 
any  influence  on  that  hoarse  companion,  it  was  but  to  make  him  roar 
his  cheerful  song  the  louder,  and  by  consequence  to  make  the  fire  bum 
the  brighter,  and  the  sparks  to  dance  more  gaily  yet  :  at  length,  they 
"whizzed  so  madly  round  and  round,  that  it  was  too  much  for  such  a  surly 
wdnd  to  bear  :  so  off  it  flew  with  a  howl  :  giving  the  old  sign  before  the 
alehouse-door  such  a  cufi"  as  it  went,  that  the  Blue  Dragon  was  more 
rampant  than  usual  ever  afterwards,  and  indeed,  before  Christmas,  reared 
clean  out  of  his  crazy  frame. 

It  was  small  tyranny  for  a  respectable  wind  to  go  wreaking  its  venge- 
ance on  such  poor  creatures  as  the  fallen  leaves,  but  this  wind  happening 
to  come  up  with  a  great  heap  of  them  just  after  venting  its  humour 
on  the  insulted  Dragon,  did  so  disperse  and  scatter  them  that  they  fled 
away,  pell-mell,  some  here,  some  there,  rolling  over  each  other,  whirling 
round  and  round  upon  their  thin  edges,  taking  frantic  flights  into  the 
air,  and  playing  all  maimer  of  extraordinary  gambols  in  the  extremity  of 
their  distress.  Nor  was  this  enough  for  its  malicious  fury  :  for  not  con- 
tent with  driving  them  abroad,  it  charged  small  parties  of  them  and 
hunted  them  into  the  wheelwright's  saw-pit,  and  below  the  planks  and 
timbers  in  the  yard,  and,  scattering  the  saw-dust  in  the  air,  it  looked  for 
them  underneath,  and  when  it  did  meet  with  any,  whew  !  how  it  drove 
them  on  and  followed  at  their  heels  ,' 


8  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

The  scared  leaves  only  flew  the  faster  for  all  this  :  and  a  giddy  chase 
it  was  :  for  they  got  into  unfrequented  places^  where  there  was  no  outlet, 
and  where  their  pursuer  kept  them  eddying  round  and  round  at  his 
pleasure  j  and  they  crept  under  the  eaves  of  houses,  and  clung  tightly  ta 
the  sides  of  hay-ricks,  like  bats  ;  and  tore  in  at  open  chamber  windows, 
and  cowered  close  to  hedges ;  and  in  short  went  anywhere  for  safety. 
Eut  the  oddest  feat  they  achieved  was,  to  take  advantage  of  the  sudden 
opening  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  front-door,  to  dash  wildly  into  his  passage  ; 
whither  the  wind  following  close  upon  them,  and  finding  the  back-door 
open,  incontinently  blew  out  the  lighted  candle  held  by  Miss  Pecksniff, 
and  slammed  the  iront-door  against  Mr.  Pecksniff  who  was  at  that  mo- 
ment entering,  with  such  violence,  that  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  he  lay 
on  his  back  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps.  Being  by  this  time  weary  of 
such  trifling  performances,  the  boisterous  rover  hurried  away  rejoicing, 
roaring  over  moor  and  meadow,  hill  and  flat,  until  it  got  out  to  sea, 
where  it  met  with  other  winds  similarly  disposed,  and  made  a  night 
of  it. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Pecksniff,  having  received,  from  a  sharp  angle  in 
the  bottom  step  but  one,  that  sort  of  knock  on  the  head  which  lights  up, 
for  the  patient's  entertainment,  an  imaginary  general  illumination  of  very 
bright  short-sixes,  lay  placidly  staring  at  his  own  street-door.  And  it 
would  seem  to  have  been  more  suggestive  in  its  aspect  than  street-doors 
usually  are ;  for  he  continued  to  lie  there,  rather  a  lengthy  and  unrea- 
sonable time,  without  so  much  as  wondering  whether  he  was  hurt  or  no  : 
neither,  when  Miss  Pecksniff  inquired  through  the  key-hole  in  a  shrill 
voice,  which  might  have  belonged  to  a  wind  in  its  teens,  "  Who's  there  ?" 
did  he  make  any  reply :  nor,  when  Miss  Pecksniff  opened  the  door  again, 
and  shading  the  candle  with  her  hand,  peered  out,  and  looked  provokingly 
round  him,  and  about  him,  and  over  him,  and  everywhere  but  at  him, 
did  he  offer  any  remark,  or  indicate  in  any  manner  the  least  hint  of  a 
desire  to  be  picked  up. 

"  /  see  you,"  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  to  the  ideal  inflictor  of  a  runaway 
knock.     "  You'll  catch  it.  Sir  !" 

Still  Mr.  Pecksniff,  perhaps  from  having  caught  it  already,  said 
nothing. 

"You're  round  the  corner  now,"  cried  Miss  Pecksniff.  She  said  it  at 
a  venture,  but  there  was  appropriate  matter  in  it  too  ;  for  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
being  in  the  act  of  extinguishing  the  candles  before  mentioned  pretty 
rapidly,  and  of  reducing  the  number  of  brass  knobs  on  his  street-door 
from  four  or  five  hundred  (which  had  previously  been  juggling  of  their 
own  accord  before  his  eyes  in  a  very  novel  manner)  to  a  dozen  or  so, 
might  in  one  sense  have  been  said  to  be  coming  round  the  corner,  and 
just  turning  it. 

With  a  sharply-delivered  warning  relative  to  the  cage  and  the  constable, 
and  the  stocks  and  the  gallows.  Miss  Pecksniff  was  about  to  close  the  door 
again,  when  Mr.  Pecksniff  (being  still  at  the  bottom  of  the  steps)  raised 
himself  on  one  elbow,  and  sneezed. 

"  That  voice  !"  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  "  my  parent !" 

At  this  exclamation,  another  Miss  Pecksniff' bounced  out  of  the  parlour: 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  9 

and  tlie  two  Miss  Pecksniffs,  with  many  incoherent  expressions,  dragged 
Mr.  Pecksniff  into  an  upright  posture. 

"  Pa  !"  they  cried  iu  concert.  "  Pa  !  Speak;  Pa  !  Do  not  look  so 
wild,  my  dearest  Pa  !" 

But  as  a  gentleman's  looks,  in  such  a  case  of  all  others,  are  by  no  means 
under  his  own  control,  Mr.  Pecksniff  continued  to  keep  his  mouth  and  his 
eyes  very  wide  open,  and  to  drop  his  lower  jaw,  somewhat  after  -the 
manner  of  a  toy  nut-cracker  :  and  as  his  hat  had  fallen  off,  and  his  face  was 
pale,  and  his  hair  erect,  and  his  coat  muddy,  the  spectacle  he  presented 
was  so  very  doleful,  that  neither  of  the  Miss  Pecksniffs  could  repress  an 
involuntary  screech. 

"  That  '11  do,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "  I  'm  better." 

"  He's  come  to  himself !"  cried  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff. 

"  He  speaks  again  !"  exclaimed  the  eldest.  With  which  joyful  words 
they  kissed  Mr.  Pecksniff  on  either  cheek  ;  and  bore  him  into  the  house. 
Presently,  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff  ran  out  again  to  pick  up  his  hat, 
his  broAvn  paper  parcel,  his  umbrella,  his  gloves,  and  other  small  articles : 
and  that  done,  and  the  door  closed,  both  young  ladies  applied  themselves 
to  tending  Mr.  Pecksniff's  Vv^ounds  in  the  back  parlour. 

They  were  not  very  serious  in  their  nature  :  being  limited  to  abrasions 
on  what  the  eldest  Miss  Pecksniff  called  "  the  knobby  parts  "  of  her 
parent's  anatomy,  such  as  his  knees  and  elbows,  and  to  the  develop- 
ment of  an  entirely  new  organ,  unknown  to  phrenologists,  on  the  back 
of  his  head.  These  injuries  having  been  comforted  externally,  w4th 
patches  of  pickled  brown  paper,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  having  been  comforted 
internally,  with  some  stiff  brandy-and-water,  the  eldest  Miss  Pecksniff 
sat  down  to  make  the  tea,  which  was  all  ready.  In  the  meantime  the 
youngest  Miss  Pecksniff  brought  from  the  kitchen  a  smoking  dish  of 
ham  and  eggs,  and,  setting  the  same  before  her  father,  took  up  her 
station  on  a  low  stool  at  his  feet  :  thereby  bringing  her  eyes  on  a  level 
with  the  teaboard. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  from  this  position  of  humility,  that  the 
youngest  Miss  Pecksniff  was  so  young  as  to  be,  as  one  may  say,  forced 
to  sit  upon  a  stool,  by  reason  of  the  shortness  of  her  legs.  Miss  Pecksniff 
sat  upon  a  stool,  because  of  her  simplicity  and  innocence,  which  were 
very  great  :  very  great.  Miss  Picksniff  sat  upon  a  stool,  because  she 
was  ail  girlishness,  and  playfulness,  and  wildness,  and  kittenish  buoy- 
ancy. She  was  the  most  arch  and  at  the  same  time  the  most  artless 
creature,  was  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff,  that  you  can  possibly  imagine. 
It  was  her  great  charm.  She  was  too  fresh  and  guileless,  and  too  full 
of  child-like  vivacity,  was  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff,  to  wear  combs  in 
her  hair,  or  to  turn  it  up,  or  to  frizzle  it,  or  braid  it.  She  wore  it  in  a 
crop,  a  loosely  flowing  crop,  which  had  so  many  rows  of  curls  in  it,  that 
the  top  row  was  only  one  curl.  Moderately  buxom  was  her  shape,  and 
quite  womanly  too  ;  but  sometimes — yes,  sometimes — she  even  wore  a 
pinafore  ;  and  how  charming  that  was  !  Oh  !  she  was  indeed  "  a  gushing 
thing  "  (as  a  young  gentleman  had  observed  in  verse,  in  the  Poet's-corner 
of  a  provincial  newspaper),  was  the  youngest  Miss  Pecksniff ! 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  a  moral  man  :  a  grave  man,  a  man  of  noble  senti- 


10  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

ments,  and  speech  :  and  he  had  had  her  christened  Mercy.  Mercy  !  oh, 
what  a  charming  name  for  such  a  pure-souled  Being  as  the  youngest 
Miss  Pecksniff !  Her  sister's  name  was  Charity.  There  was  a  good 
thing  !  Mercy  and  Charity  !  And  Charity,  with  her  fine  strong  sense, 
and  her  mild,  yet  not  reproachful  gravity,  was  so  well  named,  and  did 
so  well  set  off  and  illustrate  her  sister  !  AVhat  a  pleasant  sight  was  that, 
the  contrast  they  presented  :  to  see  each  loved  and  loving  one  sympa- 
thising with,  and  devoted  to,  and  leaning  on,  and  yet  correcting  and 
counter-checking,  and,  as  it  were,  antidoting,  the  other  !  To  behold  each 
damsel,  in  her  very  admiration  of  her  sister,  setting  up  in  business  for 
herself  on  an  entirely  different  principle,  and  announcing  no  connexion 
with  over-the-way,  and  if  the  quality  of  goods  at  that  establishment 
don't  please  you,  you  are  respectfully  invited  to  favour  me  with  a  call  ! 
And  the  crowning  circumstance  of  the  whole  delightful  catalogue  was, 
that  both  the  fair  creatures  were  so  utterly  unconscious  of  all  this  !  They 
had  no  idea  of  it.  They  no  more  thought  or  dreamed  of  it,  than  Mr. 
Pecksniff  did.  Nature  played  them  off  against  each  other  :  they  had  no 
hand  in  it,  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs. 

It  has  been  remarked  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  a  moral  man.  So  he 
was.  Perhaps  there  never  was  a  more  moral  man  than  Mr.  Pecksniff : 
especially  in  his  conversation  and  correspondence.  It  was  once  said  of 
him  by  a  homely  admirer,  that  he  had  a  Fortunatus's  purse  of  good 
sentiments  in  his  inside.  In  this  particular  he  was  like  the  girl  in  the 
fairy  tale,  except  that  if  they  were  not  actual  diamonds  which  fell  from 
his  lips,  they  were  the  very  brightest  paste,  and  shone  prodigiously. 
He  was  a  most  exemplary  man  :  fuller  of  virtuous  precept  than  a  copy- 
book. Some  people  likened  him  to  a  direction-post,  which  is  always 
telling  the  way  to  a  place,  and  never  goes  there  :  but  these  were  his 
enemies  ;  the  shadows  cast  by  his  brightness  ;  that  was  all.  His  very 
throat  was  moral.  You  saw  a  good  deal  of  it.  You  looked  over  a  very 
low  fence  of  white  cravat  (whereof  no  man  had  ever  beheld  the  tie,  for 
he  fastened  it  behind),  and  there  it  lay,  a  valley  between  two  jutting 
heights  of  collar,  serene  and  whiskerless  before  you.  It  seemed  to  say, 
on  the  part  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  There  is  no  deception,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, all  is  peace  :  a  holy  calm  pervades  me."  So  did  his  hair,  just 
grizzled  with  an  iron-gray,  which  was  all  brushed  off  his  forehead,  and 
stood  bolt  upright,  or  slightly  drooped  in  kindred  action  with  his  heavy 
eyelids.  So  did  his  person,  which  was  sleek  though  free  from  corpulency. 
So  did  his  manner,  which  was  soft  and  oily.  In  a  word,  even  his 
plain  black  suit,  and  state  of  widower,  and  dangling  double  eye-glass, 
all  tended  to  the  same  purpose,  and  cried  aloud,  "  Behold  the  moral 
Pecksniff!" 

The  brazen  plate  upon  the  door  (which  being  Mr.  Pecksniff^s,  could 
not  lie)  bore  this  inscription,  "  Pecksniff,  Architect,"  to  which  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  on  his  cards  of  business,  added,  "  and  Land  Surveyor."  In 
one  sense,  and  only  one,  he  may  be  said  to  have  been  a  Land  Surveyor 
on  a  pretty  large  scale,  as  an  extensive  prospect  lay  stretched  out  before 
the  windows  of  his  house.  Of  his  architectural  doings,  nothing  was 
clearly  known,  except  that  he  had  never  designed  or  built  anything ; 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  11 

l)ut  it  was  generally  understood  that  his  knowledge  of  the  science  was 
almost  awful  in  its  profundity. 

Mr.  Pecksniff's  professional  engagements,  indeed,  were  almost,  if  not 
entirely,  confined  to  the  reception  of  pupils  ;  for  the  collection  of  rents, 
with  which  pursuit  he  occasionally  varied  and  relieved  his  graver  toils, 
can  hardly  be  said  to  be  a  strictly  architectural  employment.  His  genius 
lay  in  ensnaring  parents  and  guardians,  and  of  pocketing  premiums. 
A  young  gentleman's  premium  being  paid,  and  the  young  gentleman 
come  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house,  Mr.  Pecksniff"  borrowed  his  case  of  mathe- 
matical instruments  (if  silver-mounted  or  othenvise  valuable)  ;  entreated 
him,  from  that  moment,  to  consider  himself  one  of  the  family  ;  compli- 
mented him  highly  on  his  parents  or  guardians,  as  the  case  might  be  ; 
and  turned  him  loose  in  a  spacious  room  on  the  two-pair  front ;  where,  in 
the  company  of  certain  drawing-boards,  parallel  rulers,  very  stiff- 
legged  compasses,  and  two,  or  perhaps  three,  other  young  gentlemen,  he 
improved  himself,  for  three  or  five  years,  according  to  his  articles,  in 
making  elevations  of  Salisbury  Cathedral  from  every  possible  point  of 
sight ;  and  in  constmcting  in  the  air  a  vast  quantity  of  Castles,  Houses 
of  Parliament,  and  other  Public  Buildings.  Perhaps  in  no  place  in  the 
world  were  so  many  gorgeous  edifices  of  this  class  erected  as  under  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  auspices  ;  and  if  but  one  twentieth  part  of  the  churches  which 
■were  built  in  that  front  room,  with  one  or  other  of  the  Miss  Pecksniffs 
at  the  altar  in  the  act  of  marrying  the  architect,  could  only  be  made 
available  by  the  parliamentary  commissioners,  no  more  churches  would 
be  wanted  for  at  least  five  centuries. 

"  Even  the  worldly  goods  of  Avhich  we  have  just  disposed,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  glancing  round  the  table  when  he  had  finished;  "  even  cream, 
sugar,  tea,  toast,  ham, — " 

"  And  eggs,"  suggested  Charity  in  a  low  voice. 

"  And  eggs,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  even  they  have  their  moral.  See 
how  they  come  and  go  !  Every  pleasure  is  transitory.  We  can't  even 
eat,  long.  If  we  indulge  in  harmless  fluids,  we  get  the  dropsy  ;  if  in 
exciting  liquids,  we  get  drunk.     What  a  soothing  reflection  is  that !" 

"  Don't  say  we  get  drunk  Pa,"  urged  the  eldest  Miss  Pecksniff. 

"  When  I  say,  we,  my  dear,"  returned  her  father,  "  I  mean  mankind 
in  general ;  the  human  race,  considered  as  a  body,  and  not  as  individuals. 
There  is  nothing  personal  in  morality,  my  love.  Even  such  a  thing  as 
this,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  laying  the  forefinger  of  his  left  hand  upon  the 
brown  paper  patch  on  the  top  of  his  head,  "  slight  casualty,  baldness, 
though  it  be,  reminds  us  that  we  are  but" — he  was  going  to  say 
^'  worms,"  but  recollecting  that  Avorms  were  not  remarkable  for  heads  of 
hair,  he  substituted  "  flesh  and  blood." 

"  Which,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff  after  a  pause,  during  which  he  seemed 
to  have  been  casting  about  for  a  new  moral,  and  not  quite  successfully, 
"  which  is  also  very  soothing.  Mercy,  my  dear,  stir  the  fire  and  throw  up 
the  cinders." 

The  young  lady  obeyed,  and  having  done  so,  resumed  her  stool,  re- 
posed one  arm  upon  her  father's  knee,  and  laid  her  blooming  cheek  upon 
it.  i\Iiss  Charity  drew  her  chair  nearer  the  fire,  as  one  prepared  for 
conversation,  and  looked  towards  her  father. 


12  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Yes,"  said  ]^Ir.  Pecksniff,  after  a  short  pause,  during  wliicli  he  had 
been  silently  smiling,  and  shaking  his  head  at  the  fire — "  I  have  again 
been  fortunate  in  the  attainment  of  my  object.  A  new  inmate  will 
very  shortly  come  among  us," 

"  A  youth,  papa  ?"  asked  Charity. 

*•'  Ye-es,  a  youth,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  He  will  avail  himself  of  the 
eligible  opportunity  which  now  offers,  for  uniting  the  advantages  of  the 
best  practical  architectural  education,  with  the  comforts  of  a  home,  and 
the  constant  association  with  some  who  (however  humble  their  sphere,  and 
limited  their  capacity)  are  not  unmindful  of  their  moral  responsibilities." 

"  Oh  Pa  !"  cried  Mercy,  holding  up  her  finger  archly.  "  See  adver- 
tisement !" 

"  Playful — playful  warbler,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  It  may  be  observed  In 
connexion  with  his  calling  his  daughter  "  a  warbler,"  that  she  was  not  at 
all  vocal,  but  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  in  the  frequent  habit  of  using  any 
word  that  occurred  to  him  as  having  a  good  sound,  and  rounding  a 
sentence  well,  without  much  care  for  its  meaning.  And  he  did  this  so 
boldly,  and  in  such  an  imposing  manner,  that  he  would  sometimes  stagger 
the  wisest  people  with  his  eloquence,  and  make  them  gasp  again. 

His  enemies  asserted,  by  the  way,  that  a  strong  trustfulness  in  sounds 
and  forms,  was  the  master-key  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  character. 

"  Is  he  handsome.  Pa  V  enquired  the  younger  daughter. 

"  Silly  Merry  !"  said  the  eldest :  Merry  being  fond  for  Mercy.  "  What 
is  the  premium.  Pa  ?  tell  us  that." 

"  Oh  good  gracious.  Cherry  !"  cried  Miss  Mercy,  holding  up  her  hands 
with  the  most  winning  giggle  in  the  world,  "  what  a  mercenary  girl  you 
are  !  oh  you  naughty,  thoughtful,  prudent  thing  !" 

It  was  perfectly  charming,  and  worthy  of  the  Pastoral  age,  to  see  how 
the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  slapped  each  other  after  this,  and  then  subsided 
into  an  embrace  expressive  of  their  different  dispositions. 

"  He  is  well-looking,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  slowly  and  distinctly  :  "  well- 
looking  enough.  I  do  not  positively  expect  any  immediate  premium 
with  him." 

Notwithstanding  their  different  natures,  both  Charity  and  Mercy  con- 
curred in  opening  their  eyes  uncommonly  wide  at  this  announcement, 
and  in  looking  for  the  moment  as  blank  as  if  their  thoughts  had  actually 
had  a  direct  bearing  on  the  main-chance. 

"  But  what  of  that ! "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  still  smiling  at  the  fire. 
"  There  is  disinterestedness  in  the  world,  I  hope  1  We  are  not  all 
arrayed  in  two  opposite  ranks  :  the  o/fensive  and  the  defensive.  Some 
few  there  are  who  walk  between  ;  who  help  the  needy  as  they  go  ;  and 
take  no  part  with  either  side  :  umph  ?" 

There  was  something  in  these  morsels  of  philanthropy  which  reassured 
the  sisters.     They  exchanged  glances,  and  brightened  very  much. 

"  Oh  !  let  us  not  be  for  ever  calculating,  devising,  and  plotting  for  the 
future,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling  more  and  more,  and  looking  at  the 
fire  as  a  man  might,  who  was  cracking  a  joke  with  it :  "  I  am  weary  of  such 
arts.  If  our  inclinations  are  but  good  and  open-hearted,  let  us  gratify 
them  boldly,  though  they  bring  upon  us,  Loss  instead  of  Profit.  Eh, 
Charity  V 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  13 

Glancing  towards  his  daughters  for  the  first  time  since  he  had  begun 
these  reflections,  and  seeing  that  they  both  smiled,  Mr.  Pecksniff"  eyed 
them  for  an  instant  so  jocosely  (though  still  with  a  kind  of  saintly  waggish- 
ness)  that  the  younger  one  was  moved  to  sit  upon  his  knee  forthwith^ 
put  her  fair  arms  round  his  neck,  and  kiss  him  twenty  times.  During 
the  whole  of  this  affectionate  display  she  laughed  to  a  most  immoderate 
extent  :  in  which  hilarious  indulgence  even  the  prudent  Cherry  joined. 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff",  pushing  his  latest-born  away,  and 
running  his  fingers  through  his  hair,  as  he  resumed  his  tranquil  face. 
"  What  folly  is  this  !  Let  us  take  heed  how  we  laugh  without  reason, 
lest  we  cry  with  it.  What  is  the  domestic  news  since  yesterday  1  John 
Westlock  is  gone,  I  hope  ]" 

"  Indeed  no,"  said  Charity. 

"  And  why  not  V  returned  her  father.  "  His  term  expired  yesterday. 
And  his  box  was  packed,  I  know  ;  for  I  saw  it,  in  the  morning,  stand- 
ing in  the  hall." 

"  He  slept  last  night  at  the  Dragon/'  returned  the  young  lady,  "  and 
had  Mr.  Pinch  to  dine  with  him.  They  spent  the  evening  together,  and 
Mr.  Pinch  was  not  home  till  very  late." 

"  And  when  I  saw  him  on  the  stairs  this  morning,  Pa,"  said  Mercy 
with  her  usual  sprightliness,  "  he  looked,  oh  goodness,  such  a  monster  1 
with  his  face  all  manner  of  colours,  and  his  eyes  as  dull  as  if  they  had 
been  boiled,  and  his  head  aching  dreadfully,  I  am  sure  from  the  look  of 
it,  and  his  clothes  smelling,  oh  it 's  impossible  to  say  how  strong,  of" — 
here  the  young  lady  shuddered — "  of  smoke  and  punch." 

"  Now  I  think,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff"  with  his  accustomed  gentleness, 
though  still  with  the  air  of  one  who  suff"ered  under  injury  without  com- 
plaint, "  I  think  Mr.  Pinch  might  have  done  better  than  choose  for  his 
companion  one  who,  at  the  close  of  a  long  intercourse,  had  endeavoured, 
as  he  knew,  to  wound  my  feelings.  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  this  was 
delicate  in  Mr.  Pinch.  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  this  was  kind  in  Mr. 
Pinch.  I  will  go  further  and  say,  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  this  was  even 
ordinarily  grateful  in  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  But  what  can  any  one  expect  from  Mr.  Pinch  !"  cried  Charity,  with 
as  strong  and  scornful  an  emphasis  on  the  name  as  if  it  would  have 
given  her  unspeakable  pleasure  to  express  it,  in  an  acted  charade,  oa 
the  calf  of  that  gentleman's  leg. 

"  Ay,  ay,"  returned  her  father,  raising  his  hand  mildly  :  '•  it  is  very 
"well  to  say  what  can  we  expect  from  Mr.  Pinch,  but  Mr.  Pinch  is  a 
fellow-creature,  my  dear  ;  Mr.  Pinch  is  an  item  in  the  vast  total  of 
humanity,  my  love  ;  and  we  have  a  right,  it  is  our  duty,  to  expect  in 
Mr.  Pinch  some  development  of  those  better  qualities,  the  possession  of 
which  in  our  own  persons  inspires  our  humble  self-respect.  No,"  con- 
tinued Mr.  Pecksniff".  "  No  !  Heaven  forbid  that  I  should  say,  nothing 
can  be  expected  from  Mr.  Pinch  ;  or  that  I  should  say,  nothing  can  be 
expected  from  any  man  alive  (even  the  most  degraded,  which  Mr.  Pinch 
is  not,  no  really)  ;  but  Mr.  Pinch  has  disappointed  me  :  he  has  hurt 
me  :  I  think  a  little  the  woi'se  of  him  on  this  account,  but  not  of  human 
nature.     Oh  no,  no  !" 


14  LIFS    AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

"  Hark  !"  said  Miss  Charity,  holding  up  her  finger,  as  a  gentle  rap 
was  heard  at  the  street-door.  "  There  is  the  creature  !  Now  mark  my 
words,  he  has  come  back  with  John  Westlock  for  his  box,  and  is  going 
to  help  him  take  it  to  the  mail.  Only  mark  my  words,  if  that  isn't  his 
intention  1" 

Even  as  she  spoke,  the  box  appeared  to  be  in  progress  of  conveyance 
from  the  house,  but  after  a  brief  murmuring  of  question  and  answer,  it 
was  put  down  again,  and  somebody  knocked  at  the  parlour  door. 

"  Come  in  !"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff— not  severely  ;  only  virtuously. 
"  Come  in  1" 

An  ungainly,  awkward-looking  man,  extremely  short-sighted,  and 
prematurely  bald,  availed  himself  of  this  permission  ;  and  seeing  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff  sat  with  his  back  towards  him,  gazing  at  the  fire,  stood  hesi- 
tating, with  the  door  in  his  hand.  He  was  far  from  handsome  certainly ; 
and  was  drest  in  a  snuff-coloured  suit,  of  an  uncouth  make  at  the  best^ 
which,  being  shrunken  with  long  wear,  was  twisted  and  tortured  into  all 
kinds  of  odd  shapes ;  but  notwithstanding  his  attire,  and  his  clumsy 
figure,  which  a  great  stoop  in  his  shoulders,  and  a  ludicrous  habit  he  had 
of  thrusting  his  head  forward,  by  no  means  redeemed,  one  would  not 
have  been  disposed  (unless  Mr.  Pecksniff  said  so)  to  consider  him  a  bad 
fellow  by  any  means.  He  was  perhaps  about  thirty,  but  he  might  have 
been  almost  any  age  between  sixteen  and  sixty :  being  one  of  those 
strange  creatures  who  never  decline  into  an  ancient  appearance,  but  look 
their  oldest  when  they  are  very  young,  and  get  it  over  at  once. 

Keeping  his  hand  upon  the  lock  of  the  door,  he  glanced  from  Mr. 
Pecksniff  to  Mercy,  from  Mercy  to  Charity,  and  from  Charity  to  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff again,  several  times  ;  but  the  young  ladies  being  as  intent  upon  the 
fire  as  their  father  was,  and  neither  of  the  three  taking  any  notice  of  him, 
he  was  fain  to  say,  at  last, 

"  Oh  !  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pecksniff :  I  beg  your  pardon  for  in- 
truding :  but — " 

"  No  intrusion,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  that  gentleman  very  sweetly,  but 
without  looking  round.  "  Pray  be  seated,  Mr.  Pinch.  Have  the  good- 
ness to  shut  the  door,  Mr.  Pinch,  if  you  please." 

"  Certainly,  sir,"  said  Pinch  :  not  doing  so,  however,  but  holding  it 
rather  wider  open  than  before,  and  beckoning  nervously  to  somebody 
without  :  "  Mr.  Westlock,  sir,  hearing  that  you  were  come  home  " — 

"  Mr.  Pinch,  Mr.  Pinch  1"  said  Pecksniff,  wheeling  his  cha,ir  about, 
and  looking  at  him  with  an  aspect  of  the  deepest  melancholy,  "  I  did 
not  expect  this  from  you.     I  have  not  deserved  this  from  you  !" 

"  No,  but  upon  my  word  sir" — urged  Pinch. 

"  The  less  you  say,  Mr.  Pinch,"  interposed  the  other,  "  the  better. 
I  utter  no  complaint.     Make  no  defence." 

"  No,  but  do  have  the  goodness  sir,"  cried  Pinch,  with  great  earnest- 
ness, "  if  you  please.  Mr.  Westlock,  sir,  going  away  for  good  and  all, 
wishes  to  leave  none  but  friends  behind  him.  Mr.  Westlock  and  you, 
sir,  had  a  little  difference  the  other  day  j  you  have  had  many  little 
difierences." 

"  Little  differences !"  cried  Charity. 


//^'r^^/-/^f^  {^/[yfC 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  15 

'     "  Little  differences  1"  echoed  Mercy. 

"  My  loves  !'  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  the  same  serene  upraising  of 
his  hand  ;  "  My  dears  !"  After  a  solemn  pause  he  meekly  bowed  to  Mr. 
Pinch,  as  who  should  say,  "  Proceed  ;"  but  Mr.  Pinch  was  so  veiy  much 
at  a  loss  how  to  resume,  and  looked  so  helplessly  at  the  two  Miss 
Pecksniffs,  that  the  conversation  would  most  probaljly  have  terminated 
there,  if  a  good-looking  youth,  newly  arrived  at  man's  estate,  had 
not  stepped  forward  from  the  doorway  and  taken  up  the  thread  of  the 
discourse. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  he  said,  with  a  smile,  "  don't  let  there  be  any 
ill-blood  between  us,  pray.  I  am  sorry  we  have  ever  differed,  and 
extremely  sorry  I  have  ever  given  you  offence.  Bear  me  no  ill-will  at 
parting,  sir." 

"  I  bear,"  answered  Mr.  Pecksniff,  mildly,  "  no  ill-will  to  any  man  on 
earth." 

"  I  told  you  he  didn't,"  said  Pinch  in  an  under  tone ;  "1  knew  he 
didn't !  He  always  says  he  don't." 

"  Then  you  will  shake  hands,  sir  ?"  cried  Westlock,  advancing  a  step 
or  two,  and  bespeaking  Mr.  Pinch's  close  attention  by  a  glance. 

"  Umph  1"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  his  most  winning  tone. 

"  You  will  shake  hands,  sir." 

"  No,  John,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  calmness  quite  ethereal ;  "  no, 
I  will  not  shake  hands,  John.  I  have  forgiven  you.  I  had  already 
forgiven  you,  even  before  you  ceased  to  reproach  and  taunt  me.  I  have 
embraced  you  in  the  spirit,  John,  which  is  better  than  shaking  hands." 

"  Pinch,"  said  the  youth,  turning  towards  him,  with  a  hearty  disgust 
of  his  late  master,  "  what  did  I  tell  you  V 

Poor  Pinch  looked  down  uneasily  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  whose  eye  was 
fixed  upon  him  as  it  had  been  from  the  first  :  and  looking  up  at  the 
ceiling  again,  made  no  reply. 

"  As  to  your  forgiveness,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  said  the  youth,  "  I'll  not 
have  it  upon  such  terms.     I  won't  be  forgiven." 

"  Won't  you,  John  ?"  retorted  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  smile.  "  You 
must.  You  can't  help  it.  Forgiveness  is  a  high  quality ;  an  exalted 
virtue  ;  far  above  7/our  control  or  influence,  John.  I  will  forgive  you. 
You  cannot  move  me  to  remember  any  wrong  you  have  ever  done  me, 
John." 

"  Wrong  !"  cried  the  other,  with  all  the  heat  and  impetuosity  of  his 
age.  "  Here's  a  pretty  fellow  !  Wrong  !  Wrong  I  have  done  him  ! 
He'll  not  even  remember  the  five  hundred  pounds  he  had  with  me  under 
false  pretences  ;  or  the  seventy  pounds  a-year  for  board  and  lodging 
that  would  have  been  dear  at  seventeen  !    Here's  a  martyr  !" 

"  Money,  John,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  is  the  root  of  all  evil.  I  grieve 
to  see  that  it  is  already  bearing  evil  fruit  in  you.  But  I  will  not  remember 
its  existence.  I  will  not  even  remember  the  conduct  of  that  misguided 
person" — and  here,  although  he  spoke  like  one  at  peace  with  all  the  world, 
he  used  an  emphasis  that  plainly  said  '  I  have  my  eye  upon  the  rascal 
now' — "  that  misguided  person  who  has  brought  you  here  to-night, 
seeking  to  disturb  (it  is  a  happiness  to  say,  in  vain)  the  heart's  repose 
and  peace  of  one  who  would  have  shed  his  dearest  blood  to  serve  him." 


16  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

The  voice  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  trembled  as  he  spoke,  and  sobs  were  beard 
from  bis  daughters.  Sounds  floated  on  the  air,  moreover,  as  if  two  spirit 
voices  bad  exclaimed  :  one,  "  Beast !"  the  other,  "  Savage  !" 

"  Forgiveness,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  entire  and  pure  forgiveness  is 
not  incompatible  with  a  wounded  heart ;  perchance  when  the  heart  is 
wounded,  it  becomes  a  greater  virtue.  With  my  breast  still  wrung  and 
grieved  to  its  inmost  core  by  the  ingratitude  of  that  person,  I  am  proud 
and  glad  to  say,  that  I  forgive  him.  Nay  !  I  beg,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
raising  his  voice,  as  Pinch  appeared  about  to  speak,  "  I  beg  that  individual 
not  to  offer  a  remark  :  he  will  truly  oblige  me  by  not  uttering  one  word  : 
just  now.  I  am  not  sure  that  I  am  equal  to  the  trial.  In  a  very  short 
space  of  time,  I  shall  have  sufficient  fortitude,  I  trust,  to  converse  with 
him  as  if  these  events  had  never  happened.  But  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
turning  round  again  towards  the  fire,  and  waving  his  hand  in  the  direction 
of  the  door,  "  not  now." 

"  Bah  !"  cried  John  Westlock,  with  the  utmost  disgust  and  disdain  the 
monosyllable  is  capable  of  expressing.  "  Ladies,  good  evening.  Come, 
Pinch,  it's  not  worth  thinking  of.  I  was  right  and  you  were  wrong. 
That's  a  small  matter  ;  you'll  be  wiser  another  time." 

So  saying,  he  clapped  that  dejected  companion  on  the  shoulder,  turned 
upon  his  heel,  and  walked  out  into  the  passage,  whither  poor  Mr.  Pinch, 
after  lingering  irresolutely  in  the  parlour  for  a  few  seconds,  expressing 
in  his  countenance  the  deepest  mental  misery  and  gloom,  followed  him. 
Then  they  took  up  the  box  between  them,  and  sallied  out  to  meet  the 
mail. 

That  fleet  conveyance  passed,  every  night,  the  corner  of  a  lane  at  some 
distance  ;  towards  which  point  they  bent  their  steps.  For  some  minutes 
they  walked  along  in  silence,  until  at  length  young  Westlock  burst  into  a 
loud  laugh,  and  at  intervals  into  another,  and  another.  Still  there  was 
no  response  from  his  companion. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what,  Pinch  !"  he  said  abruptly,  after  another  lengthened 
silence — "  You  haven't  half  enough  of  the  devil  in  you.  Half  enough  ! 
You  haven't  any." 

"  Well !"  said  Pinch  with  a  sigh,  "  I  don't  know,  I  'm  sure.  It  *s  a 
compliment  to  say  so.     If  I  haven't,  I  suppose  I  'm  all  the  better  for  it." 

"  All  the  better  !"  repeated  his  companion  tartly  :  "  All  the  worse,  you 
mean  to  say." 

"  And  yet,"  said  Pinch,  pursuing  his  own  thoughts  and  not  this  last 
remark  on  the  part  of  his  friend,  "  I  must  have  a  good  deal  of  what  you 
call  the  devil  in  me,  too,  or  how  could  I  make  Pecksniff  so  uncomfortable? 
I  wouldn't  have  occasioned  him  so  much  distress — don't  laugh,  please — 
for  a  mine  of  money  :  and  Heaven  knows  I  could  find  good  use  for  it  too, 
John.     How  grieved  he  was  !" 

"^  He  grieved  ! "  returned  the  other. 

"  Why  didn't  you  observe  that  the  tears  were  almost  starting  out  of 
his  eyes  !"  cried  Pinch.  "Bless  my  soul,  John,  is  it  nothing  to  see 
a  man  moved  to  that  extent  and  know  one's  self  to  be  the  cause  !  And 
did  you  hear  him  say  that  he  could  have  shed  his  blood  for  me  T 

"  Do  you  want  any  blood  shed  for  you  ?"  returned  his  friend,  with 
considerable  irritation.     "  Does  he  shed  anything  for  you  that  you  do 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  17 

want  ?  Does  lie  shed  employment  for  you,  instruction  for  you,  pocket- 
money  for  you  1  Does  he  shed  even  legs  of  mutton  for  you  in  any  decent 
proportion  to  potatoes  and  garden  stuff?" 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Pinch,  sighing  again,  "  that  I'm  a  great  eater  : 
I  can't  disguise  from  myself  that  I'm  a  great  eater.  Now  you  know  that, 
John." 

"  You  a  great  eater  !"  retorted  his  companion,  with  no  less  indignation 
than  before.     "  How  do  you  know  you  are  V 

There  appeared  to  be  forcible  matter  in  this  inquiry,  for  Mr.  Pinch 
only  repeated  in  an  under-tone  that  he  had  a  strong  misgiving  on  the 
subject,  and  that  he  greatly  feared  he  was  : 

"  Besides,  whether  I  am  or  no,"  he  added,  "  that  has  little  or  nothing 
to  do  with  his  thinking  me  ungrateful.  John,  there  is  scarcely  a  sin  in 
the  world  that  is  in  my  eyes  such  a  crying  one  as  ingratitude ;  and  when 
he  taxes  me  with  that,  and  believes  me  to  be  guilty  of  it,  he  makes  me 
miserable  and  wretched." 

"  Do  you  think  he  don't  know  that  ?  "  returned  the  other  scornfully. 
"  But  come,  Pinch,  before  I  say  anything  more  to  you,  just  run  over  the 
reasons  you  have  for  being  grateful  to  him  at  all,  will  you  ?  change 
hands  first,  for  the  box  is  heavy.     That  '11  do.     Now,  go  on." 

"  In  the  first  place,"  said  Pinch,  "  he  took  me  as  his  pupil  for  much 
less  than  he  asked," 

"  Well/'  rejoined  his  friend,  perfectly  unmoved  by  this  instance  of 
generosity.     "  What  in  the  second  place  1 " 

"  What  in  the  second  place  !  "  cried  Pinch,  in  a  sort  of  desperation, 
"  why,  everything  in  the  second  place.  My  poor  old  grandmother  died 
happy  to  think  that  she  had  put  me  with  such  an  excellent  man.  I 
have  grown  up  in  his  house,  I  am  in  his  confidence,  I  am  his  assistant, 
he  allows  me  a  salary  :  when  his  business  improves,  my  prospects  are  to 
improve  too.  All  this,  and  a  great  deal  more,  is  in  the  second  place. 
And  in  the  very  prologue  and  preface  to  the  first  place,  John,  you  must 
consider  this,  which  nobody  knows  better  than  I  :  that  I  was  born  for 
much  plainer  and  poorer  things,  that  I  am  not  a  good  hand  at  his  kind 
of  business,  and  have  no  talent  for  it,  or  indeed  for  anything  else  but 
odds  and  ends  that  are  of  no  use  or  service  to  anybody." 

He  said  this  with  so  much  earnestness,  and  in  a  tone  so  full  of  feeling, 
that  his  companion  instinctively  changed  his  manner  as  he  sat  do-wn  on 
the  box  (they  had  by  this  time  reached  the  finger-post  at  the  end  of  the 
lane)  ;  motioned  him  to  sit  down  beside  him  ;  and  laid  his  hand  upon 
his  shoulder. 

"  I  believe  you  are  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the  world,"  he  said, 
"  Tom  Pinch." 

'•'  Not  at  all,"  rejoined  Tom.  "  If  you  only  knew  Pecksniff  as  well 
as  I  do,  you  might  say  it  of  him,  indeed,  and  say  it  truly." 

"  I'U  say  anything  of  him,  you  like,"  returned  the  other,  "  and  not 
another  word  to  his  disparagement." 

"  It 's  for  my  sake,  then  ;  not  his,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Pinch,  shaking 
his  head  gravely. 

"  For  whose  you  please,  Tom,  so  that  it  does  please  you.     Oh  !     He  's 

c 


18  LIFE   AND   ADYENTURES   OF 

a  famous  fellow  !  He  never  scraped  and  clawed  into  his  poucli  all  your 
poor  grandmother's  hard  savings — she  was  a  housekeeper,  wasn't  she, 
Tom  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  nursing  one  of  his  large  knees,  and  nodding 
his  head  :  "  a  gentleman's  housekeeper." 

"  He  never  scraped  and  clawed  into  his  pouch  all  her  hard  savings  ;  - 
dazzling  her  with  prospects  of  your  happiness  and  advancement,  which 
he  knew  (and  no  man  better)  never  would  be  realized  !  He  never 
speculated  and  traded  on  her  pride  in  you,  and  her  having  educated 
you,  and  on  her  desire  that  you  at  least  should  live  to  be  a  gentleman. 
Not  he,  Tom  !  " 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  looking  into  his  friend's  face,  as  if  he  were  a  little 
doubtful  of  his  meaning  ;  "  of  course  not." 

"  So  I  say,"  returned  the  youth,  "  of  course  he  never  did.  He  didn't 
take  less  than  he  had  asked,  because  that  less  was  all  she  had,  and  more 
than  he  expected  :  not  he,  Tom  !  He  doesn't  keep  you  as  his  assistant 
because  you  are  of  any  use  to  him  ;  because  your  wonderful  faith  in  his 
pretensions  is  of  inestimable  service  in  all  his  mean  disputes ;  because 
your  honesty  reflects  honesty  on  him  ;  because  your  wandering  about  this 
little  place  all  your  spare  hours,  reading  in  ancient  books,  and  foreign 
tongues,  gets  noised  abroad,  even  as  far  as  Salisbury,  making  of  him, 
Pecksniff  the  master,  a  man  of  learning  and  of  vast  importance.  He  gets 
no  credit  from  you,  Tom,  not  he." 

"  Why,  of  course  he  don't,"  said  Pinch,  gazing  at  his  friend  with  a 
more  troubled  aspect  than  before.  "  Pecksniff  get  credit  from  me ! 
Well  1" 

"  Don't  I  say  that  it 's  ridiculous,"  rejoined  the  other,  "  even  to  think 
of  such  a  thing?" 

"  Why,  it 's  madness,"  said  Tom. 

"  Madness  !"  returned  young  Westlock.  "  Certainly,  it 's  madness. 
Who  but  a  madman  would  suppose  he  cares  to  hear  it  said  on  Sundays, 
that  the  volunteer  who  plays  the  organ  in  the  church,  and  practises  on 
summer  evenings  in  the  dark,  is  Mr.  Pecksniff's  young  man,  eh,  Tom  ? 
Who  but  a  madman  would  suppose  it  is  the  game  of  such  a  man  as  he, 
to  have  his  name  in  everybody's  mouth,  connected  with  the  thousand 
useless  odds  and  ends  you  do  (and  which,  of  course,  he  taught  you),  eh, 
Tom  ?  Who  but  a  madman  would  suppose  you  advertise  him  hereabouts, 
much  cheaper  and  much  better  than  a  chalker  on  the  walls  could,  eh, 
Tom  %  As  well  might  one  suppose  that  he  doesn't  on  all  occasions  pour 
out  his  whole  heart  and  soul  to  you  ;  that  he  doesn't  make  you  a  very 
liberal  and  indeed  rather  an  extravagant  allowance ;  or,  to  be  more  wild 
and  monstrous  still  if  that  be  possible,  as  well  might  one  suppose,"  and 
here,  at  every  word,  he  struck  him  lightly  on  the  breast,  "  that  Pecksniff 
traded  in  your  nature,  and  that  your  nature  was,  to  be  timid  and  dis- 
trustful of  yourself,  and  trustful  of  all  other  men,  but  most  of  all,  of  him 
who  least  deserves  it.     There  would  be  madness,  Tom  !" 

Mr.  Pinch  had  listened  to  all  this  with  looks  of  bewilderment,  which 
seemed  to  be  in  part  occasioned  by  the  matter  of  his  companion's  speech, 
and  in  part  by  his  rapid  and  vehement  manner.     Now  that  he  had  come 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  19 

to  a  close,  he  drew  a  very  long  breath  ;  and  gazing  wistfully  in  his  face 
as  if  he  were  unable  to  settle  in  his  own  mind  what  expression  it  wore, 
and  w^ere  desirous  to  draw  from  it  as  good  a  clue  to  his  real  meaning  as 
it  was  possible  to  obtain  in  the  dark,  was  about  to  answer,  when  the 
sound  of  the  mail  guard's  horn  came  cheerily  upon  their  ears,  putting 
an  immediate  end  to  the  conference  :  greatly  as  it  seemed  to  the  satis- 
faction of  the  younger  man,  who  jumped  up  briskly,  and  gave  his  hand 
to  his  companion. 

"  Both  hands,  Tom.     I  shall  write  to  you  from  London,  mind  !" 

"  Yes,"  said  Pinch.  "  Yes.  Do,  please.  Good  bye.  Good  bye. 
I  can  hardly  believe  you're  going.  It  seems  now  but  yesterday  that  you 
came.     Good  bye  !  my  dear  old  fellow  !" 

John  Westlock  returned  his  parting  words  with  no  less  heartiness  of 
manner,  and  sprung  up  to  his  seat  upon  the  roof.  Off  went  the  mail  at 
a  canter  down  the  dark  road :  the  lamps  gleaming  brightly,  and  the 
horn  awakening  all  the  echoes,  far  and  wide. 

"  Go  your  ways,"  said  Pinch,  apostrophizing  the  coach  :  "  I  can  hardly 
persuade  myself  but  you're  alive,  and  are  some  great  monster  who  visits 
this  place  at  certain  intervals,  to  bear  my  friends  away  into  the  world. 
You're  more  exulting  and  rampant  than  usual  to-night,  I  think  :  and 
jou  may  well  crow  over  your  prize  ;  for  he  is  a  fine  lad,  an  ingenuous 
lad,  and  has  but  one  fault  that  I  know  of :  he  don't  mean  it,  but  he  is 
most  cruelly  unjust  to  Pecksniff  1" 


CHAPTER  III. 

IN    WHICH    CERTAIN     OTHER    PERSONS    ARE    INTRODUCED  j      ON    THE    SAME 
TERMS    AS    IN    THE    LAST    CHAPTER. 

Mention  has  been  already  made  more  than  once,  of  a  certain  Dragon 
who  swung  and  creaked  complainingly  before  the  village  ale-house  door. 
A  faded,  and  an  ancient  dragon  he  was  ;  and  many  a  wintry  storm  of 
rain,  snow,  sleet,  and  hail,  had  changed  his  colour  from  a  gaudy  blue  to 
a  faint  lack-lustre  shade  of  gray.  But  there  he  hung  ;  rearing  in  a  state 
of  monstrous  imbecility,  on  his  hind  legs ;  waxing,  with  every  month 
that  passed,  so  much  more  dim  and  shapeless,  that  as  you  gazed  at  him 
on  one  side  of  the  sign-board  it  seemed  as  if  he  must  be  gradually  melting 
through  it,  and  coming  out  upon  the  other. 

He  was  a  courteous  and  considerate  dragon  too  ;  or  had  been  in  his 
"distincter  days ;  for  in  the  midst  of  his  rampant  feebleness,  he  kept  one 
of  his  fore  paws  near  his  nose,  as  though  he  would  say,  "  Don't  mind  me — 
it's  only  my  fun/'  while  he  held  out  the  other,  in  polite  and  hospitable 
entreaty.  Indeed  it  must  be  conceded  to  the  whole  brood  of  dragons  of 
modern  times,  that  they  have  made  a  great  advance  in  civilization  and 
refinement.  They  no  longer  demand  a  beautiful  virgin  for  breakfast 
every  morning,  with  as  much  regularity  as  any  tame  single  gentleman 
expects  his  hot  roll,  but  rest  content  with  the  society  of  idle  bachelors 
and  roving  married  men  :    and  they  are  now  remarkable  rather  for 

c  2 


20  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

holding  aloof  from  the  softer  sex  and  discouraging  their  visits  (especially 
on  Saturday  nights),  than  for  rudely  insisting  on  their  company  without 
any  reference  to  their  inclinations,  as  they  are  known  to  have  done  in 
days  of  yore. 

Nor  is  this  tribute  to  the  reclaimed  animals  in  question,  so  wide  a 
digression  into  the  realms  of  Natural  History,  as  it  may,  at  first  sight, 
appear  to  be  :  for  the  present  business  of  these  pages  is  with  the  dragon 
who  had  his  retreat  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  neighbourhood,  and  that  courteous 
animal  being  already  on  the  carpet,  there  is  nothing  in  the  way  of  its 
immediate  transaction. 

For  many  years,  then,  he  had  swung  and  creaked,  and  flapped  himself 
about,  before  the  two  windows  of  the  best  bedroom  in  that  house  of 
entertainment  to  which  he  lent  his  name  :  but  never  in  all  his  swinging, 
creaking,  and  flapping,  had  there  been  such  a  stir  within  its  dingy  pre- 
cincts, as  on  the  evening  next  after  that  upon  which  the  incidents,  detailed 
in  the  last  chapter,  occurred ;  when  there  was  such  a  hurrying  up  and 
down  stairs  of  feet,  such  a  glancing  of  lights,  such  a  whispering  of  voices, 
such  a  smoking  and  sputtering  of  wood  newly  lighted  in  a  damp  chimney, 
such  an  airing  of  linen,  such  a  scorching  smell  of  hot  warming-pans,  such 
a  domestic  bustle  and  to-do,  in  short,  as  never  dragon,  griffin,  unicorn,  or 
other  animal  of  that  species  presided  over,  since  they  first  began  to  interest 
themselves  in  household  affairs. 

An  old  gentleman  and  a  young  lady,  travelling,  unattended,  in  a  rusty 
old  chariot  with  post-horses  ;  coming  nobody  knew  whence,  and  going  no- 
body knew  whither  ;  had  turned  out  of  the  high  road,  and  driven  unex- 
pectedly to  the  Blue  Dragon  :  and  here  was  the  old  gentleman,  who  had 
taken  this  step  by  reason  of  his  sudden  illness  in  the  carriage,  suffering  the 
most  horrible  cramps  and  spasms,  yet  protesting  and  vowing  in  the  very 
midst  of  his  pain,  that  he  wouldn't  have  a  doctor  sent  for,  and  wouldn't 
take  any  remedies  but  those  which  the  young  lady  administered  from  a 
small  medicine-chest,  and  wouldn't,  in  a  word,  do  anything  but  terrify  the 
landlady  out  of  her  five  wits,  and  obstinately  refuse  compliance  with  every 
suggestion  that  was  made  to  him. 

Of  all  the  five  hundred  proposals  for  his  relief  which  the  good  woman 
poured  out  in  less  than  half-an-hour,  he  would  entertain  but  one.  That 
was,  that  he  should  go  to  bed.  And  it  was  in  the  preparation  of  his  bed, 
and  the  arrangement  of  his  chamber,  that  all  the  stir  was  made  in  the  room 
behind  the  Dragon. 

He  was,  beyond  all  question,  very  ill,  and  suffered  exceedingly  :  not  the 
less,  perhaps,  because  he  was  a  strong  and  vigorous  old  man,  with  a  will 
of  iron,  and  a  voice  of  brass.  But  neither  the  apprehensions  which  he 
plainly  entertained,  at  times,  for  his  life ;  nor  the  great  pain  he  under- 
went ;  influenced  his  resolution  in  the  least  degree.  He  would  have  no 
person  sent  for.  The  worse  he  grew,  the  more  rigid  and  inflexible  he 
became  in  this  determination.  If  they  sent  for  any  person  to  attend  him, 
man,  woman,  or  child,  he  would  leave  the  house  directly  (so  he  told  them), 
though  he  quitted  it  on  foot,  and  died  upon  the  threshold  of  the  door. 

Now  there  being  no  medical  practitioner  actually  resident  in  the  vil- 
lage, but  a  poor  apothecary  who  was  also  a  grocer  and  general  dealer,  the 


MARTIN    CHTTZZLEWIT. 


21 


landlady  had  upon  her  own  responsibility  sent  for  him,  In  the  very  first 
burst  and  outset  of  the  disaster.  Of  course  it  followed,  as  a  necessary 
result  of  his  being  wanted,  that  he  was  not  at  home.  He  had  gone  some 
miles  away,  and  was  not  expected  home  until  late  at  night ;  so  the  land- 
lady, being  by  this  time  pretty  well  beside  herself,  despatched  the  same 
messenger  in  all  haste  for  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  a  learned  man  who  could 
bear  a  deal  of  responsibility,  and  a  moral  man  who  could  administer  a 
word  of  comfort  to  a  troubled  mind.  That  her  guest  had  need  of  some 
efficient  services  under  the  latter  head  was  obvious  enough  from  the  rest- 
less expressions,  importing,  however,  rather  a  worldly  than  a  spiritual 
anxiety,  to  which  he  gave  frequent  utterance. 

From  this  last-mentioned  secret  errand,  the  messenger  returned  with 
no  better  news  than  from  the  first  ;  Mr.  Pecksniff"  was  not  at  home. 
Hov/ever,  they  got  the  patient  into  bed,  without  him  ;  and  in  the  course 
of  two  hours,  he  gradually  became  so  far  better  that  there  were  much 
longer  intervals  than  at  first  between  his  terms  of  suffering.  By 
deg-rees,  he  ceased  to  suffer  at  all  :  though  his  exhaustion  was  occa- 
sionally  so  great,  that  it  suggested  hardly  less  alarm  than  his  actual 
endurance  had  done. 

It  was  in  one  of  his  intervals  of  repose,  when,  looking  round  with 
great  caution,  and  reaching  uneasily  out  of  his  nest  of  pillows,  he  endea- 
voured, with  a  strange  air  of  secrecy  and  distrust,  to  make  use  of  the 
writing  materials  which  he  had  ordered  to  be  placed  on  a  table  beside 
him,  that  the  young  lady  and  the  mistress  of  the  Blue  Dragon,  found 
themselves  sitting  side  by  side  before  the  fire  in  the  sick  chamber. 

The  mistress  of  the  Blue  Dragon  was  in  outward  appearance  just  what 
a  landlady  should  be  :  broad,  buxom,  comfortable,  and  good-looking,  with 
a  face  of  clear  red  and  white,  which  by  its  jovial  aspect,  at  once  bore 
testimony  to  her  hearty  participation  in  the  good  things  of  the  larder 
and  the  cellar,  and  to  their  thriving  and  healthful  influences.  She  was 
a  widow,  but  years  ago  had  passed  through  her  state  of  weeds,  and  burst 
into  flower  again  ;  and  in  full  bloom  she  had  continued  ever  since  ',  and 
in  full  bloom  she  was  now  ;  with  roses  on  her  ample  skirts,  and  roses  on 
her  boddice,  roses  in  her  cap,  roses  in  her  cheeks, — ay,  and  roses,  worth 
the  gathering  too,  on  her  lips,  for  that  matter.  She  had  still  a  bright 
black  eye,  and  jet  black  hair  ;  was  comely,  dimpled,  plump,  and  tight  as 
a  gooseberry  ;  and  though  she  was  not  exactly  what  the  world  calls  young, 
you  may  make  an  affidavit,  on  trust,  before  any  mayor  or  magistrate  in 
Christendom,  that  there  are  a  great  many  young  ladies  in  the  world 
(blessings  on  them,  one  and  all  !)  whom  you  wouldn't  like  half  as  well,  or 
admire  half  as  much,  as  the  beaming  hostess  of  the  Blue  Dragon. 

As  this  fair  matron  sat  beside  the  fire,  she  glanced  occasionally,  with 
all  the  pride  of  ownership,  about  the  room  ;  which  was  a  large  apart- 
ment, such  as  one  may  see  in  country  places,  v/ith  a  low  roof  and  a 
sunken  flooring,  all  do^vn-hill  from  the  door,  and  a  descent  of  two  steps 
on  the  inside  so  exquisitely  unexpected,  that  strangers,  despite  the  most 
elaborate  cautioning,  usually  dived  in  head-first,  as  into  a  plunging-bath. 
It  was  none  of  your  frivolous  and  preposterously  bright  bedrooms, 
where  nobody  can  close  an  eye  with  any  kind  of  propriety  or  decent 


22  LIFE  AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

regard  to  the  association  of  ideas  ;  but  it  was  a  good,  dull,  leaden,  drowsy 
place,  where  every  article  of  furniture  reminded  you  that  you  came  there 
to  sleep,  and  that  you  were  expected  to  go  to  sleep.  There  was  no 
wakeful  reflection  of  the  fire  there,  as  in  your  modern  chambers,  which 
upon  the  darkest  nights  have  a  watchful  consciousness  of  French  polish  ; 
the  old  Spanish  mahogany  winked  at  it  now  and  then,  as  a  dozing  cat 
or  dog  might,  nothing  more.  The  very  size  and  shape,  and  hopeless 
immoveability,  of  the  bedstead,  and  wardrobe,  and  in  a  minor  degree  of 
even  the  chairs  and  tables,  provoked  sleep  ;  they  were  plainly  apoplectic 
and  disposed  to  snore.  There  were  no  staring  portraits  to  remonstrate 
with  you  for  being  lazy  j  no  round-eyed  birds  upon  the  curtains,  dis- 
gustingly wide  awake,  and  insufferably  prying.  The  thick  neutral 
hangings,  and  the  dark  blinds,  and  the  heavy  heap  of  bed-clothes,  were 
all  designed  to  hold  in  sleep,  and  act  as  non-conductors  to  the  day  and 
getting  up.  Even  the  old  stuffed  fox  upon  the  top  of  the  wardrobe  was 
devoid  of  any  spark  of  vigilance,  for  his  glass  eye  had  fallen  out,  and  he 
slumbered  as  he  stood. 

The  wandering  attention  of  the  mistress  of  the  Blue  Dragon  roved  to 
these  things  but  twice  or  thrice,  and  then  for  but  an  instant  at  a  time. 
It  soon  deserted  them,  and  even  the  distant  bed  with  its  strange  burden, 
for  the  young  creature  immediately  before  her,  who,  with  her  downcast 
eyes  intently  fixed  upon  the  fire,  sat  wrapped  in  silent  meditation. 

She  was  very  young  ;  apparently  not  more  than  seventeen  ;  timid  and 
shrinking  in  her  manner,  and  yet  with  a  greater  share  of  self-possession 
and  control  over  her  emotions  than  usually  belongs  to  a  far  more 
advanced  period  of  female  life.  This  she  had  abundantly  shown,  but  now, 
in  her  tending  of  the  sick  gentleman.  She  was  short  in  stature ;  and 
her  figure  was  slight,  as  became  her  years  ;  but  all  the  charms  of  youth 
and  maidenhood  set  it  off,  and  clustered  on  her  gentle  brow.  Her  face 
was  very  pale,  in  part  no  doubt  from  recent  agitation.  Her  dark  brown 
hair,  disordered  from  the  same  cause,  had  fallen  negligently  from  its 
bonds,  and  hung  upon  her  neck  :  for  which  instance  of  its  waywardness, 
no  male  observer  would  have  had  the  heart  to  blame  it. 

Her  attire  was  that  of  a  lady,  but  extremely  plain  ;  and  in  her  man- 
ner, even  when  she  sat  as  still  as  she  did  then,  there  was  an  indefinable 
something  which  appeared  to  be  in  kindred  with  her  scrupulously  unpre- 
tending dress.  She  had  sat,  at  first  looking  anxiously  towards  the  bed  ; 
but  seeing  that  the  patient  remained  quiet,  and  was  busy  with  his  writ- 
ing, she  had  softly  moved  her  chair  into  its  present  place  :  partly,  as  it 
seemed,  from  an  instinctive  consciousness  that  he  desired  to  avoid  obser- 
vation ;  and  partly  that  she  might,  unseen  by  him,  give  some  vent  to  the 
natural  feelings  she  had  hitherto  suppressed. 

Of  all  this,  and  much  more,  the  rosy  landlady  of  the  Blue  Dragon 
took  as  accurate  note  and  observation  as  only  woman  can  take  of  woman. 
And  at  length  she  said,  in  a  voice  too  low,  she  knew,  to  reach  the  bed  : 

"  You  have  seen  the  gentleman  in  this  way  before,  Miss  ?  Is  he  used 
to  these  attacks?" 

"  I  have  seen  him  very  ill  before,  but  not  so  ill  as  he  has  been  to-night." 

"  What  a  Providence  ! "  said  the  landlady  of  the  Dragon,  "  that  you 
had  the  prescriptions  and  the  medicines  with  you,  Miss  ! " 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  23 

"  They  are  intended  for  such  an  emergency.  We  never  travel  without 
them." 

"  Oh  ! "  thought  the  hostess^  "  then  we  are  in  the  habit  of  trammelling, 
and  of  travelling  together." 

She  was  so  conscious  of  expressing  this  in  her  face,  that  meeting  the 
young  lady's  eyes  immediately  afterwards,  and  being  a  very  honest  hostess, 
she  was  rather  confused. 

"  The  gentleman — your  grandpapa" — she  resumed,  after  a  short  pause^ 
"  being  so  bent  on  having  no  assistance,  must  terrify  you  very  much, 
Miss?" 

"  I  have  been  very  much  alarmed  to-night.  He — he  is  not  my  grand- 
father." 

"  Father,  I  should  have  said,"  returned  the  hostess,  sensible  of  having 
made  an  awkward  mistake, 

"  Nor  my  father,"  said  the  young  lady.  "  Nor,"  she  added,  slightly 
smiling  with  a  quick  perception  of  what  the  landlady  was  going  to  add, 
"  Nor  my  uncle.     We  are  not  related." 

"  Oh  dear  me  !"  returned  the  landlady,  still  more  embarrassed  than 
before  :  "  how  could  I  be  so  very  much  mistaken ;  knowing,  as  anybody 
in  their  proper  senses  might,  that  when  a  gentleman  is  ill,  he  looks  so 
much  older  than  he  really  is  !  That  I  should  have  called  you  •  Miss,'  too, 
Ma'am  !"  But  when  she  had  proceeded  thus  far,  she  glanced  involun- 
tarily at  the  third  finger  of  the  young  lady's  left  hand,  and  faultered 
again  :  for  there  was  no  ring  upon  it. 

"  When  I  told  you  we  were  not  related,"  said  the  other  mildly,  but 
not  without  confusion  on  her  own  part,  "  I  meant  not  in  any  way.  Not 
even  by  marriage.     Did  you  call  me,  Martin  ?" 

"  Call  you?"  cried  the  old  man,  looking  quickly  up,  and  hurriedly 
drawing  beneath  the  coverlet,  the  paper  on  which  he  had  been  writing. 
"  No." 

She  had  moved  a  pace  or  two  towards  the  bed,  but  stopped  immediately, 
and  went  no  further. 

"  No,"  he  repeated,  with  a  petulant  emphasis.  "  Why  do  you  ask  me? 
If  I  had  called  you,  what  need  for  such  a  question  ?" 

"  It  was  the  creaking  of  the  sign  outside,  sir,  I  dare  say,"  observed 
the  landlady  :  a  suggestion  by  the  way  (as  she  felt  a  moment  after  she 
had  made  it),  not  at  all  complimentary  to  the  voice  of  the  old  gentleman. 

"  No  matter  what.  Ma'am,"  he  rejoined  :  "  it  wasn't  I.  Why  how 
you  stand  there,  Mary,  as  if  I  had  the  plague  !  But  they're  all  afraid  of 
me,"  he  added,  leaning  helplessly  backward  on  his  pillow,  "  even  she  ! 
There  is  a  curse  upon  me.     What  else  have  I  to  look  for  ! " 

"  0  dear,  no.  Oh  no,  I'm  sure,"  said  the  good-tempered  landlady, 
rising,  and  going  towards  him.  "  Be  of  better  cheer,  sir.  These  are 
only  sick  fancies." 

"  What  are  only  sick  fancies  ?"  he  retorted.  "  What  do  you  know 
about  fancies  %    Who  told  you  about  fancies  ?    The  old  story  !  Fancies !" 

"  Only  see  again  there,  how  you  take  one  up  !"  said  the  mistress  of 
the  Blue  Dragon,  with  unimpaired  good  humour.  ''  Dear  heart  alive, 
there  is  no  harm  in  the  word,  sir,  if  it  is  an  old  one.  Folks  in  good 
health  have  their  fancies  too,  and  strange  ones,  every  day." 


24  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

Harmless  as  this  speech  appeared  to  be,  it  acted  on  the  traveller's 
distrust,  like  oil  on  fire.  He  raised  his  head  up  in  the  bed,  and,  fixing 
on  her  two  dark  eyes  whose  brightness  was  exaggerated  by  the  paleness 
of  his  hollow  cheeks,  as  they  in  turn,  together  with  his  straggling  locks 
of  long  grey  hair,  were  rendered  whiter  by  the  tight  black  velvet  skull- 
cap which  he  wore,  he  searched  her  face  intently. 

"  Ah  !  you  begin  too  soon,"  he  said,  in  so  low  a  voice  that  he  seemed  to 
be  thinking  it,  rather  than  addressing  her.  "  But  you  lose  no  time. 
You  do  your  errand,  and  you  earn  your  fee.  Now,  who  may  be  your  client '?" 

The  landlady  looked  in  great  astonishment  at  her  whom  he  called 
Mary,  and  finding  no  rejoinder  in  the  drooping  face,  looked  back  again 
at  him.  At  first  she  had  recoiled  involuntarily,  supposing  him  disordered 
in  his  mind ;  but  the  slow  composure  of  his  manner,  and  the  settled 
purpose  announced  in  his  strong  features,  and  gathering,  most  of  all, 
about  his  puckered  mouth,  forbade  the  supposition. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  tell  me  who  is  it  ?  Being  here,  it  is  not  very 
hard  for  me  to  guess,  you  may  suppose." 

"  Martin,"  interposed  the  young  lady,  laying  her  hand  upon  his  arm  ; 
"  reflect  how  short  a  time  we  have  been  in  this  house,  and  that  even 
your  name  is  unknown  here." 

"  Unless,"  he  said,  "  you — ."  He  was  evidently  tempted  to  express 
a  suspicion  of  her  having  broken  his  confidence  in  favour  of  the  landlady, 
but  either  remembering  her  tender  nursing,  or  being  moved  in  some 
sort,  by  her  face,  he  checked  himself,  and  changing  his  uneasy  posture 
in  the  bed,  was  silent. 

"  There  !"  said  Mrs.  Lupin  :  for  in  that  name  the  Blue  Dragon  was 
licensed  to  furnish  entertainment,  both  to  man  and  beast.  "  Now,  you 
will  be  well  again,  sir.  You  forgot,  for  the  moment,  that  there  were 
none  but  friends  here." 

"  Oh  !"  cried  the  old  man  moaning  impatiently,  as  he  tossed  one 
restless  arm  upon  the  coverlet,  "  why  do  you  talk  to  me  of  friends  !  Can 
you  or  anybody  teach  me  to  know  who  are  my  friends,  and  who  my 
enemies  T 

"  At  least,"  urged  Mrs.  Lupin,  gently,  "  this  young  lady  is  your 
friend,  I  am  sure." 

"  She  has  no  temptation  to  be  otherwise,"  cried  the  old  man,  like  one 
whose  hope  and  confidence  were  utterly  exhausted.  "  I  suppose  she  is. 
Heaven  knows.  There  :  let  me  try  to  sleep.  Leave  the  candle  where 
it  is." 

As  they  retired  from  the  bed,  he  drew  forth  the  writing  which  had 
occupied  him  so  long,  and  holding  it  in  the  flame  of  the  taper  burnt  it 
to  ashes.  That  done,  he  extinguished  the  light,  and  turning  his  face 
away  with  a  heavy  sigh,  drew  the  coverlet  about  his  head,  and  lay  quite 
still. 

This  destruction  of  the  paper,-  both  as  being  strangely  inconsistent 
with  the  labour  he  had  devoted  to  it  and  as  involving  considerable 
danger  of  fire  to  the  Dragon,  occasioned  Mrs.  Lupin  not  a  little  conster- 
nation. But  the  young  lady  evincing  no  surprise,  curiosity,  or  alarm, 
whispered  her,  with  many  thanks  for  her  solicitude  and  company,  that 
she  would  remain  there  some  time  longer ;  and  that  she  begged  her  not 


zo'y/^^  {h^//j^yr//yi/j/^^^e^  /j^c.  ./^i'yp'^^:^/^7^^,  //^^//^^u/'  r^  ?2.7^  /z/'^A^n 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  25 

to  share  her  watch,  as  she  was  well  used  to  being  alone,  and  would  pass 
the  time  in  reading. 

Mrs,  Lupin  had  her  full  share  and  dividend  of  that  large  capital  of 
curiosity  which  is  inherited  by  her  sex,  and  at  another  time  it  might  have 
been  difficult  so  to  impress  this  hint  upon  her  as  to  induce  her  to  take  it. 
But  now,  in  sheer  wonder  and  amazement  at  these  mysteries,  she  with- 
drew at  once,  and  repairing  straightway  to  her  own  little  parlour  below- 
stairs,'_sat  down  in  her  easy-chair  with  unnatural  composure.  At  this  very 
crisis,  a  step  was  heard  in  the  entry,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  sweetly 
over  the  half-door  of  the  bar,  and  into  the  vista  of  snug  privacy  beyond, 
murmured  : 

"  Good  evening,  Mrs.  Lupin  !" 

"  Oh  dear  me,  sir  !"  she  cried,  advancing  to  receive  him,  "  I  am  so  very 
glad  you  have  come." 

"  And  /  am  very  glad  I  have  come,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  if  I  can  be 
of  servdce.  I  am  very  glad  I  have  come.  What  is  the  matter,  Mrs. 
Lupin  r 

"  A  gentleman  taken  ill  upon  the  road,  has  been  so  very  bad  up-stairs, 
sir,"  said  the  tearful  hostess. 

"  A  gentleman  taken  ill  upon  the  road,  has  been  so  very  bad  up-stairs, 
has  he  r  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "  Well,  well !" 

Now  there  was  nothing  that  one  may  call  decidedly  original  in  this 
remark,  nor  can  it  be  exactly  said  to  have  contained  any  wise  precept 
theretofore  unknown  to  mankind,  or  to  have  opened  any  hidden  source 
of  consolation  :  but  Mr.  Pecksniffs  manner  was  so  bland,  and  he  nodded 
his  head  so  soothingly,  and  showed  in  everything  such  an  affable  sense  of 
his  own  excellence,  that  anybody  would  have  been,  as  Mrs.  Lupin  was, 
comforted  by  the  mere  voice  and  presence  of  such  a  man  ;  and,  though 
he  had  merely  said  "  a  verb  must  agree  with  its  nominative  case  in 
number  and  person,  my  good  friend,"  or  "  eight  times  eight  are  sixty- 
four,  my  worthy  soul,"  must  have  felt  deeply  grateful  to  him  for  his 
humanity  and  wisdom. 

"  And  how,"  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff,  drawing  off  his  gloves  and  warming 
his  hands  before  the  fire,  as  benevolently  as  if  they  were  somebody  else's, 
not  his  :  "  and  how  is  he  now  ?' 
■^    "  He  is  better,  and  quite  tranquil,"  answered  Mrs.  Lupin. 

"  He  is  better,  and  quite  tranquil,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  '•  Very  well  I 
ve-ry  well !" 

Here  again,  though  the  statement  was  Mrs.  Lupin's  and  not  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's, Mr.  Pecksniff  made  it  his  own  and  consoled  her  with  it.  It  was 
not  much  when  Mrs.  Lupin  said  it,  but  it  was  a  whole  book  when  Mr. 
Pecksniff  said  it.  "  /  observe,"  he  seemed  to  say,  "  and,  through  me, 
morality  in  general  remarks,  that  he  is  better  and  quite  tranquil." 

"  There  must  be  weighty  matters  on  his  mind  though,"  said  the  hostess, 
shaking  her  head,  "  for  he  talks,  sir,  in  the  strangest  way  you  ever  heard. 
He  is  far  from  easy  in  his  thoughts,  and  wants  some  proper  advice  from 
those  whose  goodness  makes  it  worth  his  having." 

"  Then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  he  is  the  sort  of  customer  for  me."  But 
though  he  said  this  in  the  plainest  language,  he  didn't  speak  a  word.  He 
only  shook  his  head  :  disparagingly  of  himself  too. 


26  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  I  am  afraid,  sir,"  continued  the  landlady,  first  looking  round  to 
assure  herself  that  there  was  nobody  within  hearing,  and  then  looking 
down  upon  the  floor.  "  I  am  very  much  afraid,  sir,  that  his  conscience 
is  troubled  by  his  not  being  related — or — or  even  married  to — a  very 
young  lady — " 

"  Mrs.  Lupin  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  holding  up  his  hand  with  some- 
thing in  his  manner  as  nearly  approaching  to  severity,  as  any  expression 
of  his,  mild  being  that  he  was,  could  ever  do.    "  Person  !  young  person  1" 

"  A  very  young  person,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  courtesying  and  blushing  : 
"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  I  have  been  so  hurried  to-night,  that  I 
don't  know  what  I  say  :  who  is  with  him  now." 

"  Who  is  with  him  now,"  ruminated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  warming  his  back 
(as  he  had  warmed  his  hands)  as  if  it  were  a  widow's  back,  or  an  orphan's 
back,  or  an  enemy's  back,  or  a  back  that  any  less  excellent  man  would 
have  suffered  to  be  cold  :  "  Oh  dear  me,  dear  me  ! " 

"  At  the  same  time  I  am  bound  to  say,  and  I  do  say  with  all  my 
heart,"  observed  the  hostess,  earnestly,  "  that  her  looks  and  manner 
almost  disarm  suspicion." 

"  Your  suspicion,  Mrs.  Lupin,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  gravely,  "  is  very 
natural." 

Touching  which  remark,  let  it  be  written  down  to  their  confusion, 
that  the  enemies  of  this  worthy  man  unblushingly  maintained  that  he 
always  said  of  what  was  very  bad,  that  it  was  very  natural ;  and  that  he 
unconsciously  betrayed  his  own  nature  in  doing  so. 

"  Your  suspicion,  Mrs.  Lupin,"  he  repeated,  "  is  very  natural,  and  I 
have  no  doubt  correct.     I  will  wait  upon  these  travellers." 

With  that  he  took  off"  his  great-coat,  and  having  run  his  fingers 
through  his  hair,  thrust  one  hand  gently  in  the  bosom  of  his  waistcoat 
and  meekly  signed  to  her  to  lead  the  way. 

"  Shall  I  knock?"  asked  Mrs.  Lupin,  when  they  reached  the  chamber 
door. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "enter  if  you  please." 

They  went  in  on  tiptoe  :  or  rather  the  hostess  took  that  precaution, 
for  Mr.  Pecksniff  always  walked  softly.  The  old  gentleman  was  still 
asleep,  and  his  young  companion  still  sat  reading  by  the  fire. 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pausing  at  the  door,  and  giving 
his  head  a  melancholy  roll,  "  I  am  afraid  that  this  looks  artful.  I  am 
afraid,  Mrs,  Lupin,  do  you  know,  that  this  looks  very  artful !" 

As  he  finished  this  whisper,  he  advanced,  before  the  hostess  ;  and  at 
the  same  time  the  young  lady,  hearing  footsteps,  rose,  Mr.  Pecksniff' 
glanced  at  the  volume  she  held,  and  whispered  Mrs.  Lupin  again  :  if 
possible,  with  increased  despondency. 

"  Yes  ma'am,"  he  said,  "  it  is  a  good  book.  I  was  fearful  of  that 
beforehand.     I  am  apprehensive  that  this  is  a  very  deep  thing  indeed  ! " 

"  What  gentleman  is  this  ^ "  inquired  the  object  of  his  virtuous  doubts. 

"  Hush  1  don't  trouble  yourself^  Ma'am,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  the 
landlady  was  about  to  answer.  "  This  young" — in  spite  of  himself  he 
hesitated  when  '  person '  rose  to  his  lips,  and  substituted  another  word  : 
"  this  young  stranger,  Mrs.  Lupin,  will  excuse  me  for  replying  briefly, 
that  I  reside  in  this  village ;  it  may  be  in  an  influential  manner,  however 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  27 

undeserved  ;  and  that  I  have  been  summoned  here,  by  you.  I  am  here, 
as  I  am  everywhere,  I  hope,  in  sympathy  for  the  sick  and  sorry." 

With  these  impressive  words,  Mr.  Pecksniff  passed  over  to  the  bedside, 
where,  after  patting  the  counterpane  once  or  twice  in  a  very  solemn 
manner,  as  if  by  that  means  he  gained  a  clear  insight  into  the  patient's 
disorder,  he  took  his  seat  in  a  large  arm-chair,  and  in  an  attitude  of  some 
thoughtfulness  and  much  comfort,  waited  for  his  waking.  Whatever 
objection  the  young  lady  urged  to  Mrs.  Lupin  went  no  further,  for  no- 
thing more  was  said  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  said  nothing 
more  to  anybody  else. 

Full  half-an-hour  elapsed  before  the  old  man  stirred,  but  at  length 
he  turned  himself  in  bed,  and,  though  not  yet  awake,  gave  tokens  that 
his  sleep  was  drawing  to  an  end.  By  little  and  little  he  removed  the 
bed-clothes  from  about  his  head,  and  turned  still  more  towards  the  side 
where  Mr.  Pecksniff  sat.  In  course  of  time  his  eyes  opened  ;  and  he 
lay  for  a  few  moments  as  people  newly  roused  sometimes  will,  gazing  in- 
dolently at  his  visitor,  without  any  distinct  consciousness  of  his  presence. 

There  was  nothing  remarkable  in  these  proceedings,  except  the 
influence  they  worked  on  Mr.  Pecksniff,  which  could  hardly  have  been 
surpassed  by  the  most  marvellous  of  natural  phenomena.  Gradually 
his  hands  became  tightly  clasped  upon  the  elbows  of  the  chair,  his  eyes 
dilated  with  surprise,  his  mouth  opened,  his  hair  stood  more  erect  upon 
his  forehead  than  its  custom  was,  until,  at  length,  when  the  old  man 
rose  in  bed,  and  stared  at  him  with  scarcely  less  emotion  than  he  showed 
himself,  the  Pecksniff  doubts  were  all  resolved,  and  he  exclaimed  aloud  : 

"  You  are  Martin  Chuzzlewit  !  " 

His  consternation  of  surprise  was  so  genuine,  that  the  old  man,  with 
all  the  disposition  that  he  clearly  entertained  to  believe  it  assumed,  was 
convinced  of  its  reality. 

"  I  am  Martin  Chuzzlewit,"  he  said,  bitterly  :  "  and  Martin  Chuzzle- 
wit wishes  you  had  been  hanged,  before  you  had  come  here  to  disturb 
him  in  his  sleep.  Why,  I  dreamed  of  this  fellow  !  "  he  said,  lying  down 
again,  and  turning  away  his  face,  "  before  I  knew  that  he  was  near  me!" 

"  My  good  cousin — "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  There  !  His  very  first  words  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  shaking  his 
gray  head  to  and  fro  upon  the  pillow,  and  throwing  up  his  hands.  "  In 
his  very  first  words  he  asserts  his  relationship  !  I  knew  he  would :  they 
all  do  it  !  Near  or  distant,  blood  or  water,  it 's  all  one.  Ugh  !  What 
a  calendar  of  deceit,  and  lying,  and  false-witnessing,  the  sound  of  any 
word  of  kindred  opens  before  me  !  " 

"  Pray  do  not  be  hasty,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Pecksniff,  in  a  tone  that 
was  at  once  in  the  sublimest  degree  compassionate  and  dispassionate  ; 
for  he  had  by  this  time  recovered  from  his  surprise,  and  was  in  full  pos- 
session of  his  virtuous  "self.  "  You  will  regret  being  hasty,  I  know  you 
will." 

"  You  know  !  "  said  Martin,  contemptuously. 

"  Yes,"  retorted  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Ay  ay,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  :  and  don't 
imagine  that  I  mean  to  court  or  flatter  you :  for  nothing  is  farther  from 
my  intention.     Neither,  sir,  need  you  entertain  the  least  misgiving  that 


28  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

I  shall  repeat  that  obnoxious  word  which  has  given  you  so  much  offence 
already.  Why  should  1 1  What  do  I  expect  or  want  from  you  1  There 
is  nothing  in  your  possession  that  /  know  of,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  which  is 
much  to  be  coveted  for  the  happiness  it  brings  you." 

"  That 's  true  enough,"  muttered  the  old  man. 

"  Apart  from  that  consideration,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  watchful  of  the 
effect  he  made,  "  it  must  be  plain  to  you  (I  am  sure)  by  this  time,  that 
if  I  had  wished  to  [insinuate  myself  into  your  good  opinion,  I  should 
have  been,  of  all  things,  careful  not  to  address  you  as  a  relative  :  knowing 
your  humour,  and  being  quite  certain  beforehand  that  I  could  not  have 
a  worse  letter  of  recommendation." 

Martin  made  not  any  verbal  answer  ;  but  he  as  clearly  implied,  though 
only  by  a  motion  of  his  legs  beneath  the  bed-clothes,  that  there  was  reason 
in  this  and  he  could  not  dispute  it,  as  if  he  had  said  as  much  in  good 
set  terms. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  keeping  his  hand  in  his  waistcoat  as  though 
he  were  ready,  on  the  shortest  notice,  to  produce  his  heart  for  Martin 
Chuzzlewit's  inspection,  "  I  came  here  to  offer  my  services  to  a  stranger. 
I  make  no  offer  of  them  to  you,  because  I  knoAv  you  would  distrust  me 
if  I  did.  But  lying  on  that  bed,  sir,  I  regard  you  as  a  stranger,  and  I 
have  just  that  amount  of  interest  in  you  which  I  hope  I  should  feel  in 
any  stranger,  circumstanced  as  you  are.  Beyond  that,  I  am  quite  as 
indifferent  to  you,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  you  are  to  me." 

Having  said  which,  Mr.  Pecksniff  threw  himself  back  in  the  easy 
chair :  so  radiant  with  ingenuous  honesty,  that  Mrs,  Lupin  almost 
wondered  not  to  see  a  stained-glass  Glory,  such  as  the  Saint  wore  in 
the  church,  shining  about  his  head. 

A  long  pause  succeeded.  The  old  man,  with  increased  restlessness, 
changed  his  posture  several  times.  Mrs,  Lupin  and  the  young  lady 
gazed  in  silence  at  the  counterpane.  Mr,  Pecksniff  toyed  abstractedly 
with  his  eye-glass,  and  kept  his  eyes  shut,  that  he  might  ruminate  the 
better. 

"  Eh  ?"  he  said  at  last  :  opening  them  suddenly,  and  looking  towards 
the  bed.  "  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  thought  you  spoke.  Mrs.  Lupin," 
he  continued,  slowly  rising,  "  I  am  not  aware  that  I  can  be  of  any 
service  to  you  here.  The  gentleman  is  better,  and  you  are  as  good  a 
nurse  as  he  can  have.     Eh  ?" 

This  last  note  of  interrogation  bore  reference  to  another  change  of 
posture  on  the  old  man's  part,  which  brought  his  face  towards  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff for  the  first  time  since  he  had  turned  away  from  him. 

"  If  you  desire  to  speak  to  me  before  I  go,  sir,"  continued  that 
gentleman,  after  another  pause,  "  you  may  command  my  leisure  ;  but  I 
must  stipulate,  in  justice  to  myself,  that  you  do  so  as  to  a  stranger  : 
strictly  as  to  a  stranger." 

Now  if  Mr.  Pecksniff  knew,  from  anything  Martin  Chuzzlewit  had 
expressed  in  gestures,  that  he  wanted  to  speak  to  him,  he  could  only 
have  found  it  out  on  some  such  principle  as  prevails  in  melodramas,  and 
in  virtue  of  which  the  elderly  farmer  with  the  comic  son  always  knows 
what  the  dumb-girl  means  when  she  takes  refuge  in  his  garden,  and 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  29 

relates  her  personal  memoirs  in  incomprehensible  pantomime.  But 
without  stopping  to  make  any  inquiry  on  this  point,  Martin  Chuzzlewit 
signed  to  his  young  companion  to  withdraw,  which  she  immediately  did, 
along  with  the  landlady  :  leaving  him  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  alone  together. 
For  some  time  they  looked  at  each  other  in  silence  ;  or  rather  the  old 
man  looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff,  again  closing  his  eyes 
on  all  outward  objects,  took  an  inward  survey  of  his  own  breast.  That 
it  amply  repaid  him  for  his  trouble,  and  afforded  a  delicious  and  enchant- 
ing prospect,  was  clear  from  the  expression  of  his  face. 

"  You  wish  me  to  speak  to  you  as  to  a  total  stranger/'  said  the  old 
man,  "  do  you  1 " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  replied,  by  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders  and  an  apparent 
turning-round  of  his  eyes  in  their  sockets  before  he  opened  them,  that 
he  was  still  reduced  to  tlie  necessity  of  entertaining  that  desire. 

"  You  shall  be  gratified,"  said  Martin.  "  Sir,  I  am  a  rich  man.  Not 
so  rich  as  some  suppose,  perhaps,  but  yet  wealthy.  I  am  not  a  miser, 
sir,  though  even  that  charge  is  made  against  me,  as  I  hear,  and  cur- 
rently believed.  I  have  no  pleasure  in  hoarding.  I  have  no  pleasure  in 
the  possession  of  money.  The  devil  that  we  call  by  that  name  can  give 
me  nothing  but  unhappiness." 

It  would  be  no  description  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  gentleness  of  manner, 
to  adopt  the  common  parlance,  and  say,  that  he  Looked  at  this  moment 
as  if  butter  wouldn't  melt  in  his  mouth.  He  rather  looked  as  if  any 
quantity  of  butter  might  have  been  made  out  of  him,  by  churning  the 
milk  of  human  kindness,  as  it  spouted  upwards  from  his  heart. 

"  For  the  same  reason  that  I  am  not  a  hoarder  of  money,"  said  the  old 
man,  "  I  am  not  lavish  of  it.  Some  people  find  their  gratification  in 
storing  it  up  ;  and  others  theirs  in  parting  with  it ;  but  I  have  no  grati- 
fication connected  with  the  thing.  Pain  and  bitterness  are  the  only  goods 
it  ever  could  procure  for  me.  I  hate  it.  It  is  a  spectre  walking  before 
me  through  the  world,  and  making  every  social  pleasure  hideous." 

A  thought  arose  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  mind,  which  must  have  instantly 
mounted  to  his  face,  or  Martin  Chuzzlewit  would  not  have  resumed  as 
quickly  and  as  sternly  as  he  did  : 

"  You  would  advise  me  for  my  peace  of  mind,  to  get  rid  of  this  source 
of  misery,  and  transfer  it  to  some  one  who  could  bear  it  better.  Even 
you  perhaps,  would  rid  me  of  a  burden  under  which  I  suffer  so  grievously. 
Eut,  kind  stranger,"  said  the  old  man,  whose  every  feature  darkened  as 
he  spoke,  "good  Christian  stranger,  that  is  a  main  part  of  my  trouble. 
In  other  hands,  I  have  known  money  do  good  ;  in  other  hands  I  have 
known  it  triumphed  in,  and  boasted  of  with  reason,  as  the  master-key 
to  all  the  brazen  gates  that  close  upon  the  paths  to  worldly  honour, 
fortune,  and  enjoyment.  To  what  man  or  woman  ;  to  what  worthy, 
honest,  incorruptible  creature  ;  shall  I  confide  such  a  talisman  either 
now  or  when  I  die  ?  Do  you  know  any  such  person  ?  Your  virtues  are 
of  course  inestimable,  but  can  you  tell  me  of  any  other  living  creature 
who  will  bear  the  test  of  contact  with  myself  1" 

"  Of  contact  with  yourself,  sir,"  echoed  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
^    ^  Ay,"  returned  the  old  man,  "  the  test  of  contact  with  me — with 


30  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

me.  You  have  heard  of  him  whose  misery  (the  gratification  of  his  own 
foolish  wish)  was,  that  he  turned  every  thing  he  touched,  to  gold.  The 
curse  of  my  existence,  and  the  realization  of  my  own  mad  desire,  is  that 
by  the  golden  standard  which  I  bear  about  me,  I  am  doomed  to  try  the 
metal  of  all  other  men,  and  find  it  false  and  hollow." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  shook  his  head,  and  said,  "  You  think  so." 

"  Oh  yes,"  cried  the  old  man,  "  I  think  so  !  and  in  your  telling  me 
'  I  think  so,'  I  recognise  the  true  unworldly  ring  of  your  metal.  I  tell 
you,  man,"  he  added,  with  increasing  bitterness,  "  that  I  have  gone,  a 
rich  man,  among  people  ol  all  grades  and  kinds  ;  relatives,  friends,  and 
strangers";  among  people  in  whom,  when  I  was  poor,  I  had  confidence, 
and  justly,  for  they  never  once  deceived  me  then,  or,  to  me,  wronged 
each  other.  But  I  have  never  found  one  nature,  no,  not  one,  in  which, 
being  wealthy  and  alone,  I  was  not  forced  to  detect  the  latent  corrup- 
tion that  lay  hid  within  it,  waiting  for  such  as  I  to  bring  it  forth. 
Treachery,  deceit,  and  low  design  ;  hatred  of  competitors,  real  or  fancied, 
for  my  favor ;  meanness,  falsehood,  baseness,  and  servility  ;  or,"  and  here 
he  looked  closely  in  his  cousin's  eyes,  "  or  an  assumption  of  honest 
independence,  almost  worse  than  all ;  these  are  the  beauties  which  my 
wealth  has  brought  to  light.  Brother  against  brother,  child  against 
parent,  friends  treading  on  the  faces  of  friends,  this  is  the  social  com- 
pany by  which  my  way  has  been  attended.  There  are  stories  told — they 
may  be  true  or  false — of  rich  men,  who,  in  the  garb  of  poverty,  have 
found  out  virtue  and  rewarded  it.  They  were  dolts  and  idiots  for  their 
pains.  They  should  have  made  the  search  in  their  own  characters. 
They  should  have  shown  themselves  fit  objects  to  be  robbed  and  preyed 
upon  and  plotted  against,  and  adulated  by  any  knaves,  who,  but  for  joy, 
would  have  spat  upon  their  cofiins  when  they  died  their  dupes ;  and 
then  their  search  would  have  ended  as  mine  has  done,  and  they  would 
be  what  I  am." 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  not  at  all  knowing  what  it  might  be  best  to  say,  in  the 
momentary  pause  which  ensued  upon  these  remarks,  made  an  elaborate 
demonstration  of  intending  to  deliver  something  very  oracular  indeed  : 
trusting  to  the  certainty  of  the  old  man  interrupting  him,  before  he  should 
utter  a  word.  Nor  was  he  mistaken,  for  Martin  Chuzzlewit  having  taken 
breath,  went  on  to  say  : 

"  Hear  me  to  an  end  ;  judge  what  profit  you  are  like  to  gain  from 
any  repetition  of  this  visit  \  and  leave  me.  I  have  so  corrupted  and 
changed  the  nature  of  all  those  who  have  ever  attended  on  me,  by  breed- 
ing avaricious  plots  and  hopes  within  them ;  I  have  engendered  such 
domestic  strife  and  discord,  by  tarrying  even  with  members  of  my  own 
family ;  I  have  been  such  a  lighted  torch  in  peaceful  homes,  kindling  up 
all  the  bad  gases  and  vapours  in  their  moral  atmosphere,  which,  but  for 
me,  might  have  proved  harmless  to  the  end  ;  that  I  have,  I  may  say,  fled 
from  all  who  knew  me,  and  taking  refage  in  secret  places,  have  lived,  of 
late,  the  life  of  one  who  is  hunted.  The  young  girl  whom  you  just  now 
saw — what !  your  eye  lightens  when  I  talk  of  her  !  You  hate  her  already, 
do  you !" 

"  Upon  my  word,  sir  !"  said  Mr.  PecksniiT,  laying  his  hand  upon  his 
breast,  and  dropping  his  eyelids. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT. 


31 


"  I  forgot,"  cried  the  old  man,  looking  at  him  with  a  keenness  which 
the  other  seemed  to  feel,  although  he  did  not  raise  his  ejes  so  as  to  see 
it :  "I  ask  your  pardon.  I  forgot  you  were  a  stranger.  For  the  mo- 
ment you  reminded  me  of  one  Pecksniff,  a  cousin  of  mine.  As  I  was 
saying — the  young  girl  whom  you  just  now  saw,  is  an  orphan  child,  whom, 
with  one  steady  purpose,  I  have  bred  and  educated,  or,  if  you  prefer  the 
word,  adopted.  For  a  year  or  more  she  has  been  my  constant  companion, 
and  she  is  my  only  one.  I  have  taken,  as  she  knows,  a  solemn  oath 
never  to  leave  her  sixpence  when  I  die,  but  while  I  live,  I  make  her  an 
annual  allowance :  not  extravagant  in  its  amount  and  yet  not  stinted. 
There  is  a  compact  between  us  that  no  term  of  affectionate  cajolery  shall 
ever  be  addressed  by  either  to  the  other,  but  that  she  call  me  always  by 
my  Christian  name,  I  her,  by  hers.  She  is  bound  to  me  in  life  by  ties 
of  interest,  and  losing  by  my  death,  and  having  no  expectation  disap- 
pointed, will  mourn  it,  perhaps  :  though  for  that  I  care  little.  This  is 
the  only  kind  of  friend  I  have  or  will  have.  Judge  from  such  premises 
what  a  profitable  hour  you  have  spent  in  coming  here,  and  leave  me  :  to 
return  no  more." 

With  these  words,  the  old  man  fell  slowly  back  upon  his  pillow.  Mr. 
Pecksniff  as  slowly  rose,  and,  with  a  prefatory  hem,  began  as  follows  : 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 

"  There.  Go  !  "  interposed  the  other.  "  Enough  of  this.  I  am  weary 
of  you." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that,  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  because  I  have  a 
duty  to  discharge,  from  which,  depend  upon  it,  I  shall  not  shrink.  No, 
sir,  I  shall  not  shrink." 

It  is  a  lamentable  fact,  that  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  stood  erect  beside  the 
bed,  in  all  the  dignity  of  Goodness,  and  addressed  him  thus,  the  old  man 
cast  an  angry  glance  towards  the  candlestick,  as  if  he  were  possessed  by 
a  strong  inclination  to  launch  it  at  his  cousin's  head.  But  he  con- 
strained himself,  and  pointing  with  his  finger  to  the  door,  informed  him 
that  his  road  lay  there. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  I  am  aware  of  that ;  I  am  going. 
But  before  I  go,  I  crave  your  leave  to  speak,  and  more  than  that,  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit,  I  must  and  will — yes  indeed,  I  repeat  it,  must  and  will — be 
lieard.  I  am  not  surprised,  sir,  at  anything  you  have  told  me  to-night. 
It  is  natural,  very  natural,  and  the  greater  part  of  it  was  known  to  me 
before.  I  will  not  say,"  continued  Mr.  Pecksniff,  drawing  out  his 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  mnking  with  both  eyes  at  once,  as  it  were, 
against  his  \n\\,  "  I  will  not  say  that  you  are  mistaken  in  me.  ^Miile 
you  are  in  your  present  mood  I  would  not  say  so  for  the  world.  I  almost 
wish,  indeed,  that  I  had  a  different  nature,  that  I  might  repress  even 
this  slight  confession  of  weakness  :  which  I  cannot  disguise  from  you  ; 
which  I  feel  is  humiliating  :  but  which  you  will  have  the  goodness  to 
excuse.  We  will  say,  if  you  please,"  added  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  great 
tenderness  of  manner,  "that  it  arises  from  a  cold  in  the  head,  or  is 
attributable  to  snuff,  or  smelling-salts,  or  onions,  or  anything  but  the 
real  cause." 

Here  he  paused  for  an  instant,  and  concealed  his  face  behind  his  pocket- 


32  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES   OP 

handkercliief.  Then,  smiling  faintly,  and  holding  the  bed-furniture  with 
one  hand,  he  resumed  : 

"  But,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  while  I  am  forgetful  of  myself,  I  owe  it  to 
myself,  and  to  my  character — ay  sir,  and  I  have  a  character  which  is  very 
dear  to  me,  and  will  be  the  best  inheritance  of  my  two  daughters—  to  tell 
you,  on  behalf  of  another,  that  your  conduct  is  wrong,  unnatural,  inde- 
fensible, monstrous.  And  I  tell  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  towering 
on  tiptoe  among  the  curtains,  as  if  he  were  literally  rising  above  all 
worldly  considerations,  and  were  fain  to  hold  on  tight,  to  keep  himself  from 
darting  skywards  like  a  rocket,  "  I  tell*  you  without  fear  or  favor,  that 
it  will  not  do  for  you  to  be  unmindful  of  your  grandson,  young  Martin, 
who  has  the  strongest  natural  claim  upon  you.  It  will  not  do,  sir," 
repeated  Mr.  PecksniiF,  shaking  his  head.  "  You  may  t'hink  it  will  do, 
but  it  won't.  You  must  provide  for  that  young  man  ;  you  shall  provide 
for  him  ;  you  will  provide  for  him.  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  glancing 
at  the  pen-and-ink,  "  that  in  secret  you  have  already  done  so.  Bless 
you  for  doing  so.  Bless  you  for  doing  right,  sir.  Bless  you  for  hating 
me.     And  good  night  ! " 

So  saying,  Mr.  Pecksniff  waved  his  right  hand  with  much  solemnity  ; 
and  once  more  inserting  it  in  his  waistcoat,  departed.  There  was  emotion 
in  his  manner,  but  his  step  was  firm.  Subject  to  human  weaknesses, 
he  was  upheld  by  conscience. 

Martin  lay  for  some  time,  with  an  expression  on  his  face  of  silent 
wonder,  not  unmixed  with  rage  :  at  length  he  muttered  in  a  whisper  : 

"  What  does  this  mean  1  Can  the  false-hearted  boy  have  chosen  such 
a  tool  as  yonder  fellow  who  has  just  gone  out  ?  Why  not  !  He  has 
conspired  against  me,  like  the  rest,  and  they  but  birds  of  one  feather. 
A  new  plot ;  a  new  plot !  Oh  self,  self,  self !  At  every  turn,  nothing 
but  self!" 

He  fell  to  trifling,  as  he  ceased  to  speak,  with  the  ashes  of  the  burnt 
paper  in  the  candlestick.  He  did  so,  at  first  in  pure  abstraction,  but 
they  presently  became  the  subject  of  his  thoughts. 

"  Another  will  made  and  destroyed,"  he  said,  "  nothing  determined 
on,  nothing  done,  and  I  might  have  died  to-night !  I  plainly  see  to 
what  foul  uses  all  this  money  will  be  put  at  last,"  he  cried,  almost  writh- 
ing in  the  bed  :  "  after  filling  me  with  cares  and  miseries  all  my  life,  it 
v/ill  perpetuate  discord  and  bad  passions  when  I  am  dead.  So  it  always 
is.  What  lawsuits  grow  out  of  the  graves  of  rich  men,  every  day  :  sow- 
ing perjury,  hatred,  and  lies  among  near  kindred,  where  there  should  be 
nothing  but  love  [  Heaven  help  us,  we  have  much  to  answer  for  !  Oh 
self,  self,  self!     Every  man  for  himself,  and  no  creature  for  me  !" 

Universal  self!  Was  there  nothing  of  its  shadow  in  these  reflections, 
and  in  the  history  of  Martin  Chuzzlewit,  on  his  own  showing  ? 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  33 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PROM  WHICH  IT  WILL  APPEAR  THAT  IF  UNION  BE  STRENGTH,  AND 
FAMILY  AFFECTION  BE  PLEASANT  TO  CONTEMPLATE,  THE  CIIUZZLEWITS 
WERE  THE   STRONGEST   AND  MOST  AGREEABLE   FAMILY   IN   THE  WORLD. 

That  worthy  man  Mr.  PecksnIiF  having  taken  leave  of  his  cousin  in 
the  solemn  terms  recited  in  the  last  chapter,  withdrew  to  his  own  home, 
and  remained  there  three  whole  days  :  not  so  much  as  going  out  for  a 
walk  beyond  the  boundaries  of  his  own  garden,  lest  he  should  be  hastily 
summoned  to  the  bedside  of  his  penitent  and  remorseful  relative,  whom, 
in  his  ample  benevolence,  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  forgive  uncon- 
ditionally, and  to  love  on  any  terms.  But  such  was  the  obstinacy  and 
such  the  bitter  nature  of  that  stern  old  man,  that  no  repentant  summons 
came  ;  and  the  fourth  day  found  Mr,  Pecksniff  apparently  much  further 
from  his  Christian  object  than  the  first. 

During  the  whole  of  this  interval,  he  haunted  the  Dragon  at  all  times 
and  seasons  in  the  day  and  night,  andj  returning  good  for  evil,  evinced 
the  deepest  solicitude  in  the  progress  of  the  obdurate  invalid  ;  inso- 
much that  Mrs.  Lupin  was  fairly  melted  by  his  disinterested  anxiety 
(for  he  often  particularly  rec|uired  her  to  take  notice  that  he  v/ould  do 
the  same  by  any  stranger  or  pauper  in  the  like  condition),  and  shed 
many  tears  of  admiration  and  delight. 

Meantime,  old  Martin  Chuzzlewit  remained  shut  up  in  his  own  chamber, 
and  saw  no  person  but  his  young  companion,  saving  the  hostess  of  the 
Blue  Dragon,  who  was,  at  certain  times,  admitted  to  his  presence.  So 
surely  as  she  came  into  the  room,  however,  Martin  feigned  to  fall  asleep. 
It  was  only  when  he  and  the  young  lady  were  alone,  that  he  would  utter 
a  word,  even  in  answer  to  the  simplest  inquiry  ;  though  Mr.  Pecksniff 
could  make  out,  by  hard  listening  at  the  door,  that  they  two  being  left 
together,  he  was  talkative  enough. 

It  happened  on  the  fourth  evening,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  walking,  as 
usual,  into  the  bar  of  the  Dragon  and  finding  no  Mrs.  Lupin  there, 
went  straight  up-stairs  :  purposing,  in  the  fervor  of  his  affectionate  zeal, 
to  apply  his  ear  once  more  to  the  keyhole,  and  cjuiet  his  mind  by 
assuring  himself  that  the  hard-hearted  patient  was  going  on  well.  It 
happened  that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  coming  softly  upon  the  dark  passage  into 
which  a  spiral  ray  of  light  usually  darted  through  this  same  keyhole, 
was  astonished  to  find  no  such  ray  visible ;  and  it  happened  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  when  he  had  felt  his  way  to  the  chamber-door,  stooping 
hurriedly  down  to  ascertain  by  personal  inspection  whether  the  jealousy 
of  the  old  man  had  caused  this  keyhole  to  be  stopped  on  the  inside, 
brought  his  head  into  such  violent  contact  with  another  head,  that  he 
could  not  help  uttering  in  an  audible  voice  the  monosyllable  "  Oh  !" 
which  was,  as  it  were,  sharply  unscrewed  and  jerked  out  of  him  by- 
very  anguish.  It  happened  then,  and  lastly,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff"  found 
himself   immediately  collared  by  something  which  smelt  like   several 

D 


34  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

damp  umbrellas,  a  barrel  of  beer,  a  cask  of  warm  brandy-and-water, 
and  a  small  parlor-full  of  stale  tobacco  smoke,  mixed ;  and  was  straight- 
way led  down  stairs  into  the  bar  from  which  he  had  lately  come, 
where  he  found  himself  standing  opposite  to,  and  in  the  grasp  of,  a 
perfectly  strange  gentleman  of  still  stranger  appearance,  who,  with  his 
disengaged  hand,  rubbed  his  own  head  very  hard,  and  looked  at  him, 
Pecksniff,  with  an  evil  countenance. 

The  gentleman  was  of  that  order  of  appearance,  which  is  currently 
termed  shabby-genteel,  though  in  respect  of  his  dress  he  can  hardly 
be  said  to  have  been  in  any  extremities,  as  his  fingers  were  a  long  way 
out  of  his  gloves,  and  the  soles  of  his  feet  were  at  an  inconvenient 
distance  from  the  upper  leather  of  his  boots.  His  nether  garments  were  of 
a  blueish  gray — violent  in  its  colours  once,  but  sobered  now  by  age  and 
dinginess — and  were  so  stretched  and  strained  in  a  tough  conflict  between 
his  braces  and  his  straps,  that  they  appeared  every  moment  in  danger  of 
flying  asunder  at  the  knees.  His  coat,  in  colour  blue  and  of  a  military 
cut,  was  buttoned  and  frogged,  up  to  his  chin.  His  cravat  was,  in  hue 
and  pattern,  like  one  of  those  mantles  which  hair-dressers  are  accustomed 
to  wrap  about  their  clients,  during  the  progress  of  the  professional 
mysteries.  His  hat  had  arrived  at  such  a  pass  that  it  would  have  been 
hard  to  determine  whether  it  was  originally  white  or  black.  But  he 
wore  a  moustache — a  shaggy  moustache  too  :  nothing  in  the  meek  and 
merciful  way,  but  quite  in  the  fierce  and  scornful  style  :  the  regular 
Satanic  sort  of  thing — and  he  wore,  besides,  a  vast  quantity  of  unbrushed 
hair.  He  was  very  dirty  and  very  jaunty  ;  very  bold  and  very  mean  ; 
very  swaggering  and  very  slinking  ;  very  much  like  a  man  who  might 
have  been  something  better,  and  unspeakably  like  a  man  who  deserved 
to  be  something  worse. 

"You  were  eaves-dropping  at  that  door,  you  vagabond  1"  said  this 
gentleman. 

Mr.  Pecksnifl"  cast  him  off",  as  Saint  George  might  have  repudiated 
the  Dragon  in  that  animal's  last  moments,  and  said  : 

"  Where  is  Mrs.  Lupin,  I  wonder  !  can  the  good  woman  possibly  be 
aware  that  there  is  a  person  here  who — " 

"  Stay !"  said  the  gentleman.  "Wait  a  bit.  She  does  know.  What  then  ?" 

"  What  then  sir  ? "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniffl  "  What  then  %  Do  you  know, 
sir,  that  I  am  the  friend  and  relative  of  that  sick  gentleman  1  That  I 
am  his  protector,  his  guardian,  his — " 

"Not  his  niece's  husband,"  interposed  the  stranger,  "  PU  be  sworn  ; 
for  he  was  there  before  you." 

"What  do  yc>u  mean '?"  said  Mr.  Pecksnifl',  with  indignant  surprise. 
"  What  do  you  tell  me  sir  ? " 

"  Wait  a  bit ! "  cried  the  other.  "  Perhaps  you  are  a  cousin — the 
cousin  who  lives  in  this  place  T 

"I  am  the  cousin  who  lives  in  this  place,"  replied  the  man  of  worth. 

"  Your  name  is  Pecksnifl"?"  said  the  gentleman. 

"It  is." 

"  I  am  proud  to  know  you,  and  I  ask  your  pardon,"  said  the  gentle- 
man touching  his  hat,  and  subsequently  diving  behind  his  cravat  for  a 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  35 

slilrt-collar,  which  however  he  did  not  succeed  in  bringing  to  the 
surface.  ''  You  behold  in  me,  sir,  one  who  has  also  an  interest  in  that 
gentleman  up-stairs.     Wait  a  bit." 

As  he  said  this,  he  touched  the  tip  of  his  high  nose,  by  way  of  inti- 
mation that  he  would  let  Mr.  Pecksniff  into  a  secret  presently  ;  and 
pulling  off  his  hat,  began  to  search  inside  the  cro^vn  among  a  mass  of 
crumpled  documents  and  small  pieces  of  what  may  be  called  the  bark  of 
broken  cigars  :  whence  he  presently  selected  the  cover  of  an  old  letter, 
beofrimed  with  dirt  and  redolent  of  tobacco. 

"  Read  that,"  he  cried,  giving  it  to  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  This  is  addressed  to  Chevy  Slyme,  Esquire,"  said  that  gentleman. 

'•  You  know  Chevy  Slyme,  Esquire,  I  believe  V  returned  the  stmnger. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  though  he  would  say  '•  I  know 
there  is  such  a  person,  and  I  am  sorry  for  it." 

"  Very  good,"  remarked  the  gentleman.  "  That  is  my  interest  and 
business  here,"  With  that  he  made  another  dive  for  his  shirt-collar, 
and  brought  up  a  string. 

"  Now  this  is  very  distressing,  my  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking 
his  head  and  smiling  composedly.  "  It  is  very  distressing  to  me,  to  be 
compelled  to  say  that  you  are  not  the  person  you  claim  to  be.  I  know 
Mr.  Slyme,  my  friend  :  this  will  not  do  :  honesty  is  the  best]  policy  : 
you  had  better  not ;  you  had  indeed." 

"  Stop  !"  cried  the  gentleman,  stretching  forth  his  right  arm,  which 
was  so  tightly  wedged  into  his  threadbare  sleeve  that  it  looked  like  a 
cloth  sausao-e.     "  Wait  a  bit  ! " 

He  paused  to  establish  himself  immediately  in  front  of  the  fire,  with 
his  back  towards  it.  Then  gathering  the  skirts  of  his  coat  under  his  left 
arm,  and  smoothing  his  moustache  with  his  right  thumb  and  fore- 
finger, he  resumed  : 

"  I  understand  your  mistake,  and  I  am  not  offended.  Why  1  Be- 
cause it's  complimentary.  You  suppose  I  Avould  set  myself  up  for 
Chevy  Slyme.  Sir,  if  there  is  a  man  on  earth  whom  a  gentleman  would 
feel  proud  and  honoured  to  be  mistaken  for,  that  man  is  my  friend 
Slyme.  For  he  is,  without  an  exception,  tlie  highest-minded,  the  most 
independent-spirited  ;  most  original,  spiritual,  classical,  talented ;  the 
most  thoroughly  Shakspearian,  if  not  Miltonic  ;  and  at  the  same  time 
the  most  disgustingly-unappreciated  dog  I  know.  But,  sir,  I  have  not 
the  vanity  to  attempt  to  pass  for  Slyme.  Any  other  man  in  the  wide 
world,  I  am  equal  to  ;  but  Sljnne  is,  I  frankly  confess,  a  great  many 
cuts  above  me.     Therefore  you  are  wrong." 

"  I  judged  from  this,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  holding  out  the  cover  of 
the  letter. 

"  No  doubt  you  did,"  returned  the  gentleman.  "  But,  Mr.  •  Peck- 
sniff, the  whole  thing  resolves  itself  into  an  instance  of  the  peculiarities 
of  genius.  Every  man  of  true  genius  has  his  peculiarity.  Sir,  the 
peculiarity  of  my  friend  Sljone  is,  that  he  is  always  waiting  round  the 
corner.  He  is  perpetually  round  the  corner,  sir.  He  is  round  the 
corner  at  this  instant.  Now,"  said  the  gentleman,  shaking  his  fore- 
finger before  his  nose,  and  planting  his  legs  wider  apart  as  he  looked 

d2 


S6  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

attentively  in  Mr.  PecksnifTs  face,  "  that  is  a  remarkably  curious  and 
interesting  trait  in  Slyme's  character  ;  and  whenever  Slynie's  life  comes 
to  be  written,  that  trait  must  be  thoroughly  worked  out  by  his  biographer, 
or  society  will  not  be  satisfied.  Observe  me,  society  will  not  be  satisfied  !" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  coughed. 

"  Slyme's  biographer,  sir,  whoever  he  may  be,"  resumed  the  gentle- 
man, "  must  apply  to  me  ;  or  if  I  am  gone  to  that  what's-his-name 
from  which  no  thingumbob  comes  back,  he  must  apply  to  my  executors 
for  leave  to  search  among  my  papers.  I  have  taken  a  few  notes  in  my 
poor  way,  of  some  of  that  man's  proceedings — my  adopted  brother,  sir, 
— which  would  amaze  you.  He  made  use  of  an  expression,  sir,  only  on 
the  fifteenth  of  last  month  when  he  couldn't  meet  a  little  bill  and  the 
other  party  wouldn't  renew,  which  would  have  done  honour  to  Napoleon 
Bonaparte  in  addressing  the  French  army." 

"  And  pray,"  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff,  obviously  not  cjuite  at  his  ease, 
"  what  may  be  Mr.  Slyme's  business  here,  if  I  may  be  permitted  to 
inquire,  who  am  compelled  by  a  regard  for  my  own  character  to  dis- 
avow all  interest  in  his  proceedings  V 

"  In  the  first  place,"  returned  the  gentleman,  "  you  will  permit  me  to 
say,  that  I  object  to  that  remark,  and  that  I  strongly  and  indignantly 
protest  against  it  on  behalf  of  my  friend  Slyme.  In  the  next  place,  you 
will  give  me  leave  to  introduce  myself.  My  name,  sir,  is  Tigg.  The 
name  of  Montague  Tigg  will  perhaps  be  familiar  to  you,  in  connexion 
with  the  most  remarkable  events  of  the  Peninsular  War  T 

Mr.  Pecksniff  gently  shook  his  head. 

"  No  matter,"  said  the  gentleman.  "  That  man  was  my  father,  and 
I  bear  his  name.  I  am  consequently  proud — proud  as  Lucifer.  Excuse 
me  one  moment  :  I  desire  my  friend  Slyme  to  be  present  at  the  re- 
mainder of  this  conference." 

With  this  announcement  he  hurried  away  to  the  outer  door  of  the 
Blue  Dragon,  and  almost  immediately  returned  with  a  companion  shorter 
than  himself,  who  was  wrapped  in  an  old  blue  camlet  cloak  with  a  lining 
of  faded  scarlet.  His  sharp  features  being  much  pinched  and  nipped  by 
long  waiting  in  the  cold,  and  his  straggling  red  whiskers  and  frowzy 
hair  being  more  than  usually  dishevelled  from  the  same  cause,  he 
certainly  looked  rather  unwholesome  and  uncomfortable  than  Shak- 
spearian  or  Miltonic. 

"  Now,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  clapping  one  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  his 
prepossessing  friend,  and  calling  Mr.  Pecksniff's  attention  to  him  with 
the  other,  "  you  two  are  related ;  and  relations  never  did  agree,  and 
never  will ;  which  is  a  wise  dispensation  and  an  inevitable  thing,  or 
there  would  be  none  but  family  parties,  and  everybody  in  the  world 
would  bore  everybody  else  to  death.  If  you  were  on  good  terms,  I 
should  consider  you  a  most  confoundedly  unnatural  pair  ;  but  standing 
towards  each  other  as  you  do,  I  look  upon  you  as  a  couple  of  devilish 
deep-thoughted  fellows,  who  may  be  reasoned  with  to  any  extent." 

Here  Mr,  Chevy  Slyme,  whose  great  abilities  seemed  one  and  all  to 
point  towards  the  sneaking  quarter  of  the  moral  compass,  nudged  his 
friend  stealthily  with  his  elbow,  and  whispered  in  his  ear. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  37 

"  Chiv,"  said  Mr.  Tigg  aloud,  in  the  high  tone  of  one  who  was  not  to 
be  tampered  with,  "  I  shall  come  to  that,  presently.  I  act  upon  my  own 
responsibility,  or  not  at  all.  To  the  extent  of  such  a  trifling  loan  as  a 
crownpiece  to  a  man  of  your  talents,  I  look  upon  Mr.  Pecksniff  as 
certain  :"  and  seeing  at  this  juncture  that  the  expression  of  Mr. 
Pecksnin's  face  by  no  means  betokened  that  he  shared  this  certainty, 
Mr.  Tigg  laid  his  finger  on  his  nose  again  for  that  gentleman's  private 
and  especial  behoof :  calling  upon  him  thereby  to  take  notice,  that  the 
requisition  of  small  loans  was  another  instance  of  the  peculiarities  of 
genius  as  developed  in  his  friend  Slyme  ;  that  he,  Tigg,  winked  at  the 
same,  because  of  the  strong  metaphysical  interest  which  these  weaknesses 
possessed ;  and  that  in  reference  to  his  own  personal  advocacy  of  such 
small  advances,  he  merely  consulted  the  humour  of  his  friend,  without 
the  least  regard  to  his  own  advantage  or  necessities. 

"  Oh,  Chiv,  Chiv  !"  added  Mr.  Tigg,  sun^eying  his  adopted  brother 
with  an  air  of  profound  contemplation  after  dismissing  this  piece  of 
pantomime.  '■•  You  are,  upon  my  life,  a  strange  instance  of  the  little 
frailties  that  beset  a  mighty  mind.  If  there  had  never  been  a  telescope 
in  the  world,  I  should  have  been  quite  certain  from  my  observation  of 
you,  Chiv,  that  there  were  spots  on  the  sun  !  I  wish  I  may  die,  if  this 
isn't  the  queerest  state  of  existence  that  we  find  ourselves  forced  into, 
without  knov/ing  why  or  wherefore,  Mr.  Pecksniff !  Well,  never  mind  ! 
Moralise  as  we  will,  the  world  goes  on.  As  Hamlet  says,  Hercules  may 
lay  about  him  with  his  club  in  every  possible  direction,  but  he  can't 
prevent  the  cats  from  making  a  most  intolerable  row  on  the  roofs  of  the 
houses,  or  the  dogs  from  being  shot  in  the  hot  weather  if  they  run  about 
the  streets  unmuzzled.  Life  's  a  riddle  :  a  most  infernally  hard  riddle 
to  guess,  Mr,  Pecksniff.  My  own  opinion  is,  that  like  that  celebrated 
conundrum,  '  Why's  a  man  in  jail  like  a  man  out  of  jail  V  there's  no 
answer  to  it.  Upon  my  soul  and  body,  it 's  the  queerest  sort  of  thing 
altogether — but  there 's  no  use  in  talking  about  it.     Ha  !   ha  ! " 

W  itli  which  consolatory  deduction  from  the  gloomy  premises  recited,  Mr. 
Tigg  roused  himself  by  a  great  effort,  and  proceeded  in  his  former  strain. 

"  Now  111  tell  you  what  it  is.  I'm  a  most  confoundedly  soft-hearted 
kind  of  fellow  in  my  way,  and  I  cannot  stand  by,  and  see  you  two 
blades  cutting  each  other's  throats  when  there's  nothing  to  be  got  by  it. 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  you  're  the  cousin  of  the  testator  up-stairs  and  vre  're 
the  nephew — I  say  we,  meaning  Chiv.  Perhaps  in  all  essential  points, 
you  are  more  nearly  related  to  him  than  we  are.  Yery  good.  If  so,  so  be  it. 
But  you  can't  get  at  him,  neither  can  we.  I  give  you  my  brightest  honour, 
sir,  that  I  've  been  looking  through  that  keyhole,  with  short  intervals  of 
rest,  ever  since  nine  o'clock  this  morning,  in  expectation  of  receiving  an 
answer  to  one  of  the  most  moderate  and_  gentlemanly  applications  for  a 
little  temporary  assistance — only  fifteen  pound,  and  my  security — that 
the  mind  of  man  can  conceive.  In  the  mean  time,  sir,  he  is  perpetually 
closeted  with,  and  pouring  his  whole  confidence  into  the  bosom  of,  a 
stranger.  Now,  I  say  decisively,  with  regard  to  this  state  of  circum- 
stances, that  it  won't  do  ;  that  it  won't  act  ;  that  it  can't  be ;  and  that 
it  must  not  be  suffered  to  continue." 


38  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Every  man,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  has  a  right,  an  undoubted  rights 
(which  I,  for  one,  would  not  call  in  question  for  any  earthly  considera- 
tion :  oh  no  !)  to  regulate  his  own  proceedings  by  his  own  likings  and 
dislikings,  supposing  they  are  not  immoral  and  not  irreligious.  I  may 
feel  in  my  own  breast,  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  does  not  regard — me,  for 
instance  :  say  me — with  exactly  that  amount  of  Christian  love  which 
should  subsist  between  us  ;  I  may  feel  grieved  and  hurt  -at  the  circum- 
stance ;  still,  I  may  not  rush  to  the  conclusion  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  is 
wholly  without  a  justification  in  all  his  coldnesses  :  Heaven  forbid  I 
Besides ;  how,  Mr.  Tigg,"  continued  Pecksniff  even  more  gravely  and 
impressively  than  he  had  spoken  yet,  "  how  could  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  be 
prevented  from  having  these  peculiar  and  most  extraordinary  confidences 
of  which  you  speak  ;  the  existence  of  which  I  must  admit  j  and  which 
I  cannot  but  deplore — for  his  sake  ?  Consider,  my  good  sir — "  and  here 
Mr.  Pecksniff  eyed  him  wistfully — "  how  very  much  at  random  you  are 
talking." 

"Why  as  'to  that,"  rejoined  Tigg,  "it  certainly  is  a  difficult 
question." 

"  Undoubtedly  it  is  a  difficult  question,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  answered  :  and 
as  he  spoke  he  drew  himself  aloof,  and  seemed  to  grow  more  mindful, 
suddenly,  of  the  moral  gulf  between  himself  and  the  creature  he 
addressed.  "  Undoubtedly  it  is  a  very  difficult  question.  And  I  am  far 
from  feeling  sure  that  it  is  a  question  any  one  is  authorised  to  discuss. 
Good  evening  to  you." 

"  You  don't  know  that  the  Spottletoes  are  here,  I  suppose  V  said 
Mr.  Tigg. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  sir  1  what  Spottletoes  ?"  asked  Pecksniff,  stopping 
abruptly  on  his  way  to  the  door. 

"  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spottletoe,"  said  Chevy  Slyme,  Esquire,  speaking  aloud 
for  the  first  time,  and  speaking  very  sulkily  :  shambling  with  his  legs 
the  while.  "  Spottletoe  married  my  father's  brother's  child,  didn't  he  % 
and  Mrs.  Spottletoe  is  Chuzzlewit's  own  niece,  isn't  she  ]  She  was  his 
favourite  once.     You  may  well  ask  what  Spottletoes." 

"  Now,  upon  my  sacred  word  1"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  upwards. 
"  This  is  dreadful.     The  rapacity  of  these  people  is  absolutely  frightful !" 

"  It's  not  only  the  Spottletoes  either,  Tigg,"  said  Slyme,  looking  at 
that  gentleman  and  speaking  at  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Anthony  Chuzzlewit 
and  his  son  have  got  wind  of  it,  and  have  come  down  this  afternoon.  I 
saw  'em  not  five  minutes  ago,  when  I  was  waiting  round  the  corner." 

"  Oh,  Mammon,  Mammon  !"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiting  his  forehead. 

"  So  there,"  said  Slyme,  regardless  of  the  interruption,  "  are  his  brother 
and  another  nephew  for  you,  already." 

"This  is  the  whole  thing,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tigg;  ",this  is  the  point  and  pur- 
pose at  which  I  was  gradually  arriving,  when  my  friend  Slyme  here,  with 
six  words,  hit  it  full.  Mr.  Pecksniff,  now  that  your  cousin  (and  Chiv's  uncle) 
has  turned  up,  some  steps  must  be  taken  to  prevent  his  disappearing  again ; 
and,  if  possible,  to  counteract  the  influence  which  is  exercised  over  him 
now,  by  this  designing  favourite.  Everybody  who  is  interested  feels  it,  sir. 
The  whole  family  is  pouring  down  to  this  place.  The  time  has  come  whea 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  39 

individual  jealousies  and  interests  must  be  forgotten  for  a  time,  sir,  and 
union  must  be  made  against  tlie  common  enemy.  When  the  common 
enemy  is  routed,  you  will  all  set  up  for  yourselves  again ;  every  lady 
and  gentleman  who  has  a  part  in  the  game,  will  go  in  on  their  own 
account  and  bowl  away,  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  at  the  testator's 
wicket ;  and  nobody  will  be  in  a  worse  position  than  before.  Think  of  it. 
Don't  commit  yourself  now.  You'll  find  us  at  the  Half-Moon  and  Seven 
Stars  in  this  village,  at  any  time,  and  open  to  any  reasonable  proposition. 
Hem  !     Chiv,  my  dear  fellow,  go  out  and  see  what  sort  of  a  night  it  is." 

Mr.  Slyme  lost  no  time  in  disappearing,  and,  it  is  to  be  presumed, 
in  going  round  the  corner.  Mr.  Tigg,  planting  his  legs  as  wide  apart  as 
he  could  be  reasonably  expected  by  the  most  sanguine  man  to  keep  them, 
shook  his  head  at  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  smiled. 

"  We  must  not  be  too  hard,"  he  said,  "  upon  the  little  eccentricities 
of  our  friend  Slyme.     You  saw  him  whisper  me  V 

Mr.  Pecksniif  had  seen  him. 

"  You  heard  my  answer,  I  think  ?" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  heard  it. 

"Five  shillings,  eh  1"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  thoughtfully.  "Ah  !  what  an 
extraordinary  fellow  !     Very  moderate  too  !" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  made  no  answer. 

"  Five  shillings  !"  pursued  Mr.  Tigg,  musing  :  "  and  to  be  punctually 
repaid  next  week  ;  that  's  the  best  of  it.     You  heard  that  ? " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  not  heard  that. 

"No  !  You  surprise  me  1"  cried  Tigg.  "  That 's  the  cream  of  the 
thing,  sir.  I  never  knew  that  man  fail  to  redeem  a  promise,  in  my  life. 
You  're  not  in  want  of  change,  are  you  V 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  thank  you.     Not  at  all." 

"  Just  so,"  returned  Mr.  Tigg.  "  If  you  had  been,  I'd  have  got  it 
for  you."  With  that  he  began  to  whistle  ;  but  a  dozen  seconds  had  not 
elapsed  when  he  stopped  short,  and,  looking  earnestly  at  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
said  : 

"  Perhaps  you'd  rather  not  lend  Slyme  five  shillings  1" 

"  I  would  much  rather  not,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  rejoined. 

"  Egad  ! "  cried  Tigg,  gravely  nodding  his  head  as  if  some  ground  of 
objection  occurred  to  him  at  that  moment  for  the  first  time,  "  it's  very 
possible  you  may  be  right.  Would  you  entertain  the  same  sort  of 
objection  to  lending  jne  five  shillings,  now  V 

"  Yes,  I  couldn't  do  it,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Not  even  half-a-crown,  perhaps  ? "  urged  Mr.  Tigg. 

"  Not  even  half-a-crown." 

"  Why  then  we  come,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  to  the  ridiculously  small 
amount  of  eighteenpence.     Ha  !  ha  !" 

"  And  that,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  would  be  equally  objectionable." 

On  receipt  of  this  assurance,  Mr.  Tigg  shook  him  heartily  by  both 
hands,  protesting  with  much  earnestness,  that  he  was  one  of  the  most 
consistent  and  remarkable  men  he  had  ever  met,  and  that  he  desired  the 
honour  of  his  better  acquaintance.  He  farther  observed  that  there  were 
many  little  characteristics  about  his  friend  Slyme,  of  which  he  could  by 


40  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

no  means,  as  a  man  of  strict  honour,  approve  ;  but  that  he  was  prepared 
to  forgive  him  all  these  slight  drawbacks,  and  much  more,  in  consider- 
ation of  the  great  pleasure  he  himself  had  that  day  enjoyed  in  his  social 
intercourse  with  Mr.  Pecksniff,  which  had  given  him  a  far  higher  and 
more  enduring  delight  than  the  successful  negotiation  of  any  small  loan 
on  the  part  of  his  friend  could  possibly  have  imparted.  With  which 
remarks  he  would  beg  leave,  he  said,  to  wish  Mr.  Pecksniff  a  very  good 
evening.  And  so  he  took  himself  off :  as  little  abashed  by  his  recent 
failure  as  any  gentleman  would  desire  to  be. 

The  meditations  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  that  evening  at  the  bar  of  the  Dragon, 
and  that  night  in  his  own  house,  were  very  serious  and  grave  indeed  ; 
the  more  especially  as  the  intelligence  he  had  received  from  Messrs. 
Tigg  and  Slyme  touching  the  arrival  of  other  members  of  the  family, 
was  fully  confirmed  on  more  particular  inquiry.  For  the  Spottletoes 
had  actually  gone  straight  to  the  Dragon,  where  they  were  at  that 
moment  housed  and  mounting  guard,  and  where  their  appearance  had 
occasioned  such  a  vast  sensation,  that  Mrs.  Lupin,  scenting  their  errand 
before  they  had  been  under  her  roof  half  an  hour,  carried  the  news 
herself  with  all  possible  secrecy  straight  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  : 
indeed  it  was  her  great  caution  in  doing  so  which  occasioned  her  to  miss 
that  gentleman,  who  entered  at  the  front  door  of  the  Dragon,  just  as  she 
emerged  from  the  back  one.  Moreover,  Mr.  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and 
his  son  Jonas  were  economically  quartered  at  the  Half  Moon  and  Seven 
Stars,  which  was  an  obscure  alehouse  ;  and  by  the  very  next  coach  there 
came  posting  to  the  scene  of  action,  so  many  other  affectionate  members 
of  the  family  (who  quarrelled  with  each  other,  inside  and  out,  all  the 
way  down,  to  the  utter  distraction  of  the  coachman)  that  in  less  than 
four-and-twenty  hours  the  scanty  tavern  accommodation  was  at  a 
premium,  and  all  the  private  lodgings  in  the  place,  amounting  to  full 
four  beds  and  a  sofa,  rose  cent,  per  cent,  in  the  market. 

In  a  word,  things  came  to  that  pass  that  nearly  the  whole  family  sat 
down  before  the  Blue  Dragon,  and  formally  invested  it  ;  and  Martin 
Chuzzlewit  was  in  a  state  of  siege.  But  he  resisted  bravely  ;  refusing 
to  receive  all  letters,  messages,  and  parcels  ;  obstinately  declining  to  treat 
with  anybody  ;  and  holding  out  no  hope  or  promise  of  capitulation. 
Meantime  the  family  forces  were  perpetually  encountering  each  other  in 
divers  parts  of  the  neighbourhood  :  and,  as  no  one  branch  of  the 
Chuzzlewit  tree  had  ever  been  known  to  ao-ree  with  another  within  the 
memory  of  man,  there  was  such  a  skirmishing,  and  flouting,  and  snapping 
off  of  heads,  in  the  metaphorical  sense  of  that  expression  ;  such  a 
bandying  of  words  and  calling  of  names  ;  such  an  upturning  of  noses 
and  wrinkling  of  brows  ;  such  a  formal  interment  of  good  feelings  and 
violent  resurrection  of  ancient  grievances ;  as  had  never  been  known  in 
those  quiet  parts  since  the  earliest  record  of  their  civilized  existence. 

At  length  in  utter  despair  and  hopelessness,  some  few  of  the  bellige- 
rents began  to  speak  to  each  other  in  only  moderate  terms  of  mutual 
aggravation  ;  and  nearly  all  addressed  themselves  with  a  show  of  tolerable 
decency  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  recognition  of  his  high  character  and  influential 
position.     Thus,  by  little  and  little  they  made  common  cause  of  Martin 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  41 

Cliuzzlewit's  obduracy,  until  it  was  agreed — if  sucli  a  "word  can  be  used 
in  connexion  with  the  Chuzzlewits — that  there  should  be  a  general 
council  and  conference  held  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  upon  a  certain  day 
at  noon  :  which  all  members  of  the  family  who  had  brought  themselves 
within  reach  of  the  summons,  were  forthwith  bidden  and  invited, 
solemnly,  to  attend. 

If  ever  Mr.  Pecksniff  wore  an  apostolic  look,  he  wore  it  on  this 
memorable  day.  If  ever  his  unruffled  smile  proclaimed  the  words, 
*' I  am  a  messenger  of  peace!"  that  was  its  mission  now.  If  ever 
man  combined  within  himself  all  the  mild  qualities  of  the  lamb  with  a 
considerable  touch  of  the  dove,  and  not  a  dash  of  the  crocodile,  or  the 
least  possible  suggestion  of  the  very  mildest  seasoning  of  the  serpent, 
that  man  was  he.  And,  Oh,  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  !  Oh,  the  serene 
expression  on  the  face  of  Charity,  which  seemed  to  say,  "  I  know  that 
all  my  family  have  injured  me  beyond  the  possibility  of  reparation,  but 
I  forgive  them,  for  it  is  my  duty  so  to  do  !;"  And,  Oh,  the  gay  simplicity 
of  Mercy  :  so  charming,  innocent,  and  infant-like,  that  if  she  had  gone 
out  walking  by  herselfj  and  it  had  been  a  little  earlier  in  the  season, 
the  robin-redbreasts  might  have  covered  her  with  leaves  against  her 
will,  believing  her  to  be  one  of  the  sweet  children  in  the  wood,  come 
out  of  it,  and  issuing  forth  once  more  to  look  for  blackberries  in  the 
young  freshness  of  her  heart  !  What  words  can  paint  the  Pecksniffs  in 
that  trying  hour  1  Oh,  none  :  for  words  have  naughty  company  among 
them,  and  the  Pecksniffs  were  all  goodness. 

But  when  the  company  arrived  !  That  was  the  time.  When  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  rising  from  his  seat  at  the  table's  head,  with  a  daughter  on 
either  hand,  received  his  guests  in  the  best  parlour  and  motioned  them 
to  chairs,  with  eyes  so  overflowing  and  countenance  so  damp  with 
gracious  perspiration,  that  he  may  be  said  to  have  been  in  a  kind  of 
moist  meekness  !  And  the  company  :  the  jealous,  stony-hearted,  dis- 
trustful company,  who  were  all  shut  up  in  themselves,  and  had  no  faith 
in  anybody,  and  wouldn't  believe  anything,  and  would  no  more  allow 
themselves  to  be  softened  or  lulled  asleep  by  the  Pecksniffs  than  if  they 
bad  been  so  many  hedgehogs  or  porcupines  ! 

First,  there  was  Mr.  Spottletoe,  who  was  so  bald  and  had  such  big- 
whiskers,  that  he  seemed  to  have  stopped  his  hair,  by  the  sudden  appli- 
cation of  some  powerful  remedy,  in  the  very  act  of  falling  off  his  head, 
and  to  have  fastened  it  irrevocably  on  his  face.  Then  there  was  Mrs. 
Spottletoe,  who  being  much  too  slim  for  her  years,  and  of  a  poetical 
constitution,  was  accustomed  to  inform  her  more  intimate  friends  that 
the  said  whiskers  were  "  the  lodestar  of  her  existence  ;"  and  who  could 
now,  by  reason  of  her  strong  affection  for  her  uncle  Chuzzlewit,  and  the 
shock  it  gave  her  to  be  suspected  of  testamentary  designs  upon  him,  do 
nothing  but  cry — except  moan.  Then  there  were  Anthony  Chuzzlewit, 
and  his  son  Jonas  :  the  face  of  the  old  man  so  sharpened  by  the  wari- 
ness and  cunning  of  his  life,  that  it  seemed  to  cut  him  a  passage 
through  the  crowded  room,  as  he  edged  away  behind  the  remotest 
chairs  ;  while  the  son  had  so  well  profited  by  the  precept  and  example 
of  the  father  that  he  looked  a  year  or  two   the  elder  of  the  twain,  as 


42  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

they  stood  winking  tlieir  red  eyes,  side  by  side,  and  whispering  to  each 
other,  softly.  Then  there  was  the  widow  of  a  deceased  brother  of  Mr. 
Martin  Chuzzlewit,  who  being  almost  supernaturally  disagreeable,  and 
having  a  dreary  face  and  a  bony  figure  and  a  masculine  voice,  was,  in 
right  of  these  qualities,  what  is  commonly  called  a  strong-minded  wo- 
man ;  and  who,  if  she  could,  would  have  established  her  claim  to  the  title, 
and  have  shown  herself,  mentally  speaking,  a  perfect  Sampson,  by  shut- 
ting up  her  brother-in-law  in  a  private  madhouse,  until,  he  proved  his 
complete  sanity  by  loving  her  very  much.  Beside  her  sat  her  spinster 
daughters,  three  in  number,  and  of  gentlemanly  deportment,  who  had 
so  mortified  themselves  with  tight  stays,  that  their  tempers  were  reduced 
to  something  less  than  their  waists,  and  sharp  lacing  was  expressed  in 
their  very  noses.  Then  there  was  a  young  gentleman,  grand-nephew  of 
Mr.  Martin  Chuzzlewit,  very  dark  and  very  hairy,  and  apparently  born 
for  no  particular  purpose  but  to  save  looking-glasses  the  trouble  of 
reflecting  more  than  just  the  first  idea  and  sketchy  notion  of  a  face, 
which  had  never  been  carried  out.  Then  there  was  a  solitary  female 
cousin  who  was  remarkable  for  nothing  but  being  very  deaf,  and  living  by 
herself,  and  always  having  the  tooth-ache.  Then  there  was  George  Chuz- 
zlewit, a  gay  bachelor  cousin,  who  claimed  to  be  young  but  had  been 
younger,  and  was  inclined  to  corpulency,  and  rather  over-fed  himself : 
to  that  extent,  indeed,  that  his  eyes  were  strained  m  their  sockets,  as  if 
with  constant  surprise ;  and  he  had  such  an  obvious  disposition  to  pimples, 
that  the  bright  spots  on  his  cravat,  the  rich  pattern  on  his  waistcoat, 
and  even  his  glittering  trinkets,  seemed  to  have  broken  out  upon  him, 
and  not  to  have  come  into  existence  comfortably.  Last  of  all,  there  were 
present  Mr.  Chevy  Slyme  and  his  friend  Tigg.  And  it  is  worthy  of 
remark,  that  although  each  person  present  disliked  the  other  mainly 
because  he  or  she  did  belong  to  the  family,  they  one  and  all  concurred 
in  hating  Mr.  Tigg  because  he  didn't. 

Such  was  the  pleasant  little  family  circle  now  assembled  in  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's best  parlour,  agreeably  prepared  to  fall  foul  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  or  any- 
body else  who  might  venture  to  say  anything  whatever  upon  any  subject. 

"  This,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  rising,  and  looking  round  upon  them,  with 
folded  hands,  "  does  me  good.  It  does  my  daughters  good.  We  thank 
you  for  assembling  here.  We  are  grateful  to  you  with  our  whole  hearts. 
It  is  a  blessed  distinction  that  you  have  conferred  upon  us,  and  believe 
me" — it  is  impossible  to  conceive  how  he  smiled  here — "  we  shall  not 
easily  forget  it." 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  you,  Pecksniff,"  remarked  Mr.  Spottletoe, 
with  his  whiskers  in  a  very  portentous  state  ;  "  but  you  are  assuming 
too  much  to  yourself  sir.  Who  do  you  imagine  has  it  in  contemplation 
to  confer  a  distinction  upon  you  sirl" 

A  general  murmur  echoed  this  enquiry,  and  applauded  it. 

"  If  you  are  about  to  pursue  the  course  with  which  you  have  begun 
sir,"  pursued  Mr.  Spottletoe  in  a  great  heat,  and  giving  a  violent  rap  on 
the  table  with  his  knuckles,  "  the  sooner  you  desist,  and  this  assembly 
separates,  the  better.  I  am  no  stranger  sir,  to  your  preposterous  desire 
to  be  regarded  as  the  head  of  tliis  fiimily,  but  I  can  tell  you  sir —  " 


./..#''^^^^ 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  43 

Oh  yes  indeed  !  He  tell.  He  !  What !  He  was  the  head,  was  he  1 
From  the  strong-minded  woman  downwards  everybody  fell,  that  instant, 
upon  Mr.  Spottletoe,  who  after  vainly  attempting  to  be  heard  in  silence 
was  fain  to  sit  down  again,  folding  his  arms  and  shaking  his  head,  most 
wrathfully,  and  giving  Mrs.  Spottletoe  to  understand  in  dumb  show 
that  that  scoundrel  Pecksniff  might  go  on  for  the  present,  but  he  would 
cut  in  presently,  and  annihilate  him. 

"I  am  not  sorry,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  resumption  of  his  address, 
"  I  am  really  not  sorry  that  this  little  incident  has  happened.  It  is 
good  to  feel  that  we  are  met  here  without  disgiiise.  It  is  good  to  know 
that  we  have  no  reserve  before  each  other,  but  are  appearing  freely  in 
our  own  characters." 

Here,  the  eldest  daughter  of  the  strong-minded  woman  rose  a  little 
way  from  her  seat,  and  trembling  violently  from  head  to  foot,  more  as 
it  seemed  with  passion  than  timidity,  expressed  a  general  hope  that  some 
people  would  appear  in  their  own  characters,  if  it  were  only  for  such  a 
proceeding  having  the  attraction  of  novelty  to  recommend  it ;  and  that 
when  they  (meaning  the  some  people  before  mentioned)  talked  about  their 
relations,  they  would  be  careful  to  observe  who  was  present  in  company 
at  the  time;  otherwise  it  might  come  round  to  those  relations'  ears,  in 
a  way  they  little  expected  ;  and  as  to  red  noses  (she  observed)  she  had 
yet  to  learn  that  a  red  nose  was  any  disgrace,  inasmuch  as  people  neither 
made  nor  coloured  their  own  noses,  but  had  that  feature  provided  for 
them  without  being  first  consulted  ;  though  even  upon  that  branch  of 
the  subject  she  had  great  doubts  whether  certain  noses  were  redder  than 
other  noses,  or  indeed  half  as  red  as  some.  This  remark  being  received 
with  a  shrill  titter  by  the  two  sisters  of  the  speaker.  Miss  Charity 
Pecksniff  begged  with  much  politeness  to  be  informed  whether  any  of 
those  very  low  observations  were  levelled  at  her  ;  and  receiving  no  more 
explanatory  answer  than  was  conveyed  in  the  adage  "  Those  the  cap  fits, 
let  them  wear  it,"  immediately  commenced  a  somewhat  acrimonious  and 
personal  retort,  wherein  she  was  much  comforted  and  abetted  by  her 
sister  Mercy,  who  laughed  at  the  same  Avith  great  heartiness  :  indeed  far 
more  naturally  than  life.  And  it  being  quite  impossible  that  any  difference 
of  opinion  can  take  place  among  women  without  every  woman  who  is 
within  hearing  taking  active  part  in  it,  the  strong-minded  lady  and  her 
two  daughters,  and  Mrs.  Spottletoe,  and  the  deaf  cousin  (who  was  not 
at  all  disqualified  from  joining  in  the  dispute  by  reason  of  being 
perfectly  unacquainted  with  its  merits),  one  and  all  plunged  into  the 
quarrel  directly. 

The  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  being  a  pretty  good  match  for  the  three 
Miss  Chuzzlewits,  and  all  five  young  ladies  having,  in  the  figurative 
language  of  the  day,  a  great  amount  of  steam  to  dispose  of,  the  alterca- 
tion would  no  doubt  have  been  a  lono-  one  but  for  the  his-h  valour  and 
prowess  of  the  strong-minded  woman,  who,  in  right  of  her  reputation  for 
powers  of  sarcasm,  did  so  belabour  and  pummel  Mrs.  Spottletoe  with  taunt- 
ing words  that  that  poor  lady,  before  the  engagement  was  two  minutes 
old,  had  no  refuge  but  in  tears.  These  she  shed  so  plentifully,  and 
so  much  to  the  agitation  and  grief  of  Mr.  Spottletoe,  that  that  gentleman^ 


44  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

after  holding  liis  clenclied  fist  close  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  eyes,  as  if  it  were 
some  natural  curiosity  from  the  near  inspection  vrhereof  he  was  likely  to 
derive  high  gratification  and  improvement,  and  after  offering  (for  no 
particular  reason  that  anybody  could  discover)  to  kick  Mr.  George 
Chuzzlewit  for,  and  in  consideration  of,  the  trilling  sum  of  sixpence, 
took  his  wife  under  his  arm,  and  indignantly  withdrew.  This  diversion, 
by  distracting  the  attention  of  the  combatants,  put  an  end  to  the  strife, 
which,  after  breaking  out  afresh  some  twice  or  thrice  in  certain  incon- 
siderable spirts  and  dashes,  died  away  in  silence. 

It  was  then  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  once  more  rose  from  his  chair.  It  was 
then  that  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  composed  themselves  to  look  as  if  there 
were  no  such  beings — not  to  say  present,  but  in  the  whole  compass  of 
the  world — as  the  three  Miss  Chuzzlewits  :  while  the  three  Miss 
Chuzzlewits  became  equally  unconscious  of  the  existence  of  the  two 
Miss  Pecksniffs. 

"  It  is  to  be  lamented,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  forgiving  recollection 
of  Mr.  Spottletoe's  fist,  "  that  our  friend  should  have  withdrawn  himself 
so  very  hastily,  though  we  have  cause  for  mutual  congratulation  even  in 
that,  since  we  are  assured  that  he  is  not  distrustful  of  us  in  regard  to 
anything  we  may  say  or  do,  while  he  is  absent.  Now,  that  is  very 
soothing,  is  it  not  ?" 

"  Pecksniff,"  said  Anthony,  who  had  been  watching  the  whole  party 
with  peculiar  keenness  from  the  first — "  don't  you  be  a  hypocrite." 

"  A  what,  my  good  sir  V  demanded  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  A  hypocrite." 

"  Charity,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  when  I  take  my  chamber 
candlestick  to-night,  remind  me  to  be  more  than  usually  particular  in 
praying  for  Mr.  Anthony  Chuzzlewit ;  who  has  done  me  an  injustice." 

This  was  said  in  a  very  bland  voice,  and  aside,  as  being  addressed  to 
his  daughter's  private  ear.  With  a  cheerfulness  of  conscience,  prompting 
almost  a  sprightly  demeanour,  he  then  resumed  : 

"  All  our  thoughts  centreing  in  our  very  dear,  but  unkind  relative,  and 
he  being  as  it  were  beyond  our  reach,  we  are  met  to-day,  really  as  if  we 
were  a  funeral  party,  except — a  blessed  exception — that  there  is  no  body 
in  the  house." 

The  strong-minded  lady  was  not  at  all  sure  that  this  was  a  blessed 
exception.     Quite  the  contrary. 

"  Well,  my  dear  madam  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Be  that  as  it  may, 
here  we  are  ;  and  being  here,  we  are  to  consider  whether  it  is  possible 
by  any  justifiable  means — " 

"  Why,  you  know  as  well  as  I,"  said  the  strong-minded  lady,  "  that 
any  means  are  justifiable  in  such  a  case,  don't  you  ?" 

"  Very  good,  my  dear  madam,  very  good — whether  it  is  possible  by 
any  means  ;  we  will  say  by  any  means  ;  to  open  the  eyes  of  our  valued 
relative  to  his  present  infatuation.  Whether  it  is  possible  to  make  him 
acquainted  by  any  means  with  the  real  character  and  purpose  of  that 
young  female  whose  strange,  whose  very  strange  position,  in  reference  to 
himself" — here  Mr.  Pecksniff  sunk  his  voice  to  an  impressive  whisper — 
"  really  casts  a  shadow  of  disgrace  and  shame  upon  this  family  ;  and  who. 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  45 

we  know" — here  he  raised  his  voice  again — "  else  why  is  she  his  com- 
panion? harbours  the  very  basest  designs  upon  his  weakness  and  his 
property." 

In  their  strong  feeling  on  this  point,  they,  who  agreed  in  nothing  else, 
all  concurred  as  one  mind.  Good  Heaven,  that  she  should  harbour 
designs  upon  his  property  !  The  strong-minded  lady  was  for  poison,  her 
three  daughters  were  for  Bridewell  and  bread-and-water,  the  cousin  with 
the  tooth-ache  advocated  Botany  Bay,  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  suggested 
flogging.  Nobody  but  Mr.  Tigg,  who,  notwithstanding  his  extreme 
shabbiness,  was  still  understood  to  be  in  some  sort  a  lady's-man,  in  right 
of  his  upper  lip  and  his  frogs,  indicated  a  doubt  of  the  justifiable  nature 
of  these  measures  ;  and  he  only  ogled  the  three  Miss  Chuzzlewits  with 
the  least  admixture  of  banter  in  his  admiration,  as  though  he  would 
observe,  "  You  are  positively  down  upon  her  to  too  great  an  extent,  my 
sweet  creatures,  upon  my  soul  you  are  !" 

"  Now,"'  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  crossing  his  two  fore-fingers  in  a  manner 
which  was  at  once  conciliatory  and  argumentative  :  "  I  will  not,  upon 
the  one  hand,  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  she  deserves  all  the  inflictions 
which  have  been  so  very  forcibly  and  hilariously  suggested  ;"  one  of  his 
ornamental  sentences  ;  "nor  will  I,  upon  the  other,  on  any  account  com- 
promise my  common  understanding  as  a  man  by  making  the  assertion 
that  .she  does  not.  What  I  would  observe  is,  that  I  think  some  practical 
means  might  be  devised  of  inducing  our  respected — shall  I  say  our 
revered —  f 

"  No  !"  interposed  the  strong-minded  woman  in  a  loud  voice. 

"  Then  I  will  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  You  are  quite  right,  my 
dear  madam,  and  I  appreciate  and  thank  you  for,  your  discriminating 
objection — our  respected  relative,  to  dispose  himself  to  listen  to  the 
promptings  of  nature,  and  not  to  the — " 

"  Go  on,  Pa  !"  cried  Mercy. 

"  Why,  the  truth  is,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling  upon  his 
assembled  kindred,  "  that  I  am  at  a  loss  for  a  word.  The  name  of 
those  fabulous  animals  (pagan,  I  regret  to  say)  who  used  to  sing  in  the 
water,  has  quite  escaped  me." 

Mr.  George  Chuzzlewit  suggested  "  Swans." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksnifl'.  "  Not  swans.  Very  like  swans,  too. 
Thank  you." 

The  nephew  with  the  outline  of  a  countenance,  speaking  for  the  first 
and  last  time  on  that  occasion,  propounded  "  Oysters." 

"  No,"  said   Mr.    Pecksniff,   with  his   own   peculiar  urbanity,  "  nor 

oysters.     But  by  no  means  unlike  oysters  ;  a  very  excellent  idea  ;  thank 

you,  my  dear  sir,  very  much.     Wait  !     Sirens.     Dear  me  !  sirens,  of 

course.     I  think,  I  say,  that  means  might  be  devised  of  disposing  our 

respected  relative  to  listen  to  the  promptings  of  nature,  and  not  to  the 

siren-like  delusions  of  art.     Now  we  must  not  lose  sio-ht  of  the  fact 

• 
that    our    esteemed  friend   has    a  grandson,  to    whom  he  was,    until 

lately,  very  much  attached,   and  whom  I  could  have  wished  to  see  here 

to-day,  for  I  have  a  real  and  deep  regard  for  him.     A  fine  young  man  : 

a  very  fine  young  man  !     I  vrould  submit  to  you,  whether  we  might 


46  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

not  remove  Mr.  Chuzzlewit's  distrust  of  us,  and  vindicate  our  own  dis- 
interestedness by — " 

"  If  Mr.  George  Chuzzlewit  has  anything  to  say  to  we,"  interposed 
the  strong-minded  woman,  sternly,  "  I  beg  him  to  speak  out,  like  a 
man  ;  and  not  to  look  at  me  and  my  daughters  as  if  he  could  eat  us." 

"  As  to  looking,  I  have  heard  it  said,  Mrs.  Ned,"  returned  Mr.  George, 
angrily,  "  that  a  cat  is  free  to  contemplate  a  monarch  ;  and  therefore  I 
hope  I  have  some  right,  having  been  born  a  member  of  this  family,  to 
look  at  a  person  who  only  came  into  it  by  marriage.  As  to  eating,  I 
beg  to  say,  whatever  bitterness  your  jealousies  and  disappointed  expec- 
tations may  suggest  to  you,  that  I  am  not  a  cannibal,  ma'am." 

"  I  don't  know  that ! "  cried  the  strong-minded  woman. 

"  At  all  events,  if  I  was  a  cannibal,"  said  Mr.  George  Chuzzlewit, 
greatly  stimulated  by  this  retort,  "  I  think  it  would  occur  to  me  that 
a  lady  who  had  outlived  three  husbands  and  suffered  so  very  little  from 
their  loss,  must  be  most  uncommonly  tough." 

The  strong-minded  woman  immediately  rose. 

"  And  I  will  further  add,"  said  Mr.  George,  nodding  his  head  violently 
at  every  second  syllable ;  "  naming  no  names,  and  therefore  hurting 
nobody  but  those  whose  consciences  tell  them  they  are  alluded  to,  that 
I  think  it  would  be  much  more  decent  and  becoming,  if  those  who 
hooked  and  crooked  themselves  into  this  family  by  getting  on  the  blind 
side  of  some  of  its  members  before  marriage,  and  manslaughtering  them 
afterwards  by  crowing  over  them  to  that  strong  pitch  that  they  were 
glad  to  die,  would  refrain  from  acting  the  part  of  vultures  in  regard  to 
other  members  of  this  family  who  are  living.  I  think  it  would  be  full 
as  well,  if  not  better,  if  those  individuals  would  keep  at  home,  content- 
ing themselves  with  what  they  have  got  (luckily  for  them)  already ; 
instead  of  hovering  about,  and  thrusting  their  fingers  into,  a  family  pie, 
which  they  flavor  much  more  than  enough,  I  can  tell  them,  when  they 
are  fifty  miles  away." 

"  I  might  have  been  prepared  for  this  !"  cried  the  strong-minded 
woman,  looking  about  her  with  a  disdainful  smile  as  she  moved  to- 
wards the  door,  followed  by  lier  three  daughters  :  "  indeed  I  was  fully 
prepared  for  it,  from  the  first.  What  else  could  I  expect  in  such  an 
atmosphere  as  this  !" 

"  Don't  direct  your  halfpay-officer's  gaze  at  me,  ma'am,  if  you  please," 
interposed  Miss  Charity  ;  "  for  I  won't  bear  it." 

This  was  a  smart  stab  at  a  pension  enjoyed  by  the  strong-minded 
woman,  during  her  second  widowhood  and  before  her  last  coverture.  It 
told  immensely. 

"  I  passed  from  the  memory  of  a  grateful  country,  you  very  miser- 
able minx,"  said  Mrs.  Ned,  "  when  I  entered  this  family  ;  and  I  feel 
now,  though  I  did  not  feel  then,  that  it  served  me  right,  and  that  I  lost 
my  claim  upon  the  United  Kingdom  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland  when 
I  so  degraded  myself  Now  my  dears,  if  you  're  quite  ready,  and  have 
sufficiently  improved  yourselves  by  taking  to  heart  the  genteel  example 
of  these  two  young  ladies,  I  think  we'll  go.  Mr.  Pecksniff,  we  are 
very  much  obliged  to  you,  really.     We  came  to  be  entertained,  and  you 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  47 

have  far  surpassed  our  utmost  expectations,  in  the  amusement  you  have 
provided  for  us.     Thank  you.     Good  bye  1" 

With  such  departing  words,  did  this  strong-minded  female  paralyse 
the  Pecksniffian  energies  ;  and  so  she  swept  out  of  the  room,  and  out  of 
the  house,  attended  by  her  daugliters,  who,  as  with  one  accord,  elevated 
their  three  noses  in  the  air,  and  joined  in  a  contemptuous  titter.  As 
they  passed  the  parlour  window  on  the  outside,  they  were  seen  to 
counterfeit  a  perfect  transport  of  delight  among  themselves  ;  and  with 
this  final  blow  and  great  discouragement  for  those  within,  they  vanished. 

Before  Mr.  Pecksniff  or  any  of  his  remaining  visitors  could  offer  a 
remark,  another  figure  passed  this  window,  coming,  at  a  great  rate,  in 
the  opposite  direction  :  and  immediately  afterwards,  Mr.  Spottletoe 
burst  into  the  chamber.  Compared  with  his  present  state  of  heat,  he 
had  gone  out  a  man  of  snow  or  ice.  His  head  distilled  such  oil  upon 
his  whiskers,  that  they  were  rich  and  clogged  with  unctuous  drops  ;  his 
face  was  violently  inflamed,  his  limbs  trembled ;  and  he  gasped  and 
strove  for  breath. 

"My  good  sir  !"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Oh  yes  ! "  returned  the  other  :  "  Oh  yes,  certainly  !  Oh  to  be  sure  ! 
Oh  of  course  !     You  hear  him  I     You  hear  him?  all  of  you  !" 

"  What 's  the  matter  !"  cried  several  voices. 

"  Oh  nothing  ! "  cried  Spottletoe,  still  gasping.  "  Nothing  at  all ! 
It 's  of  no  consequence  !     Ask  him  !     He  '11  tell  you  ! " 

"  I  do  not  understand  our  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  about  him 
in  utter  amazement.     "  I  assure  you  that  he  is  quite  unintelligible  to  me." 

"Unintelligible,  sir!"  cried  the  other.  "Unintelligible!  Do  you 
mean  to  say,  sir,  that  you  don't  know  what  has  happened  !  That  you 
haven't  decoyed  us  here,  and  laid  a  plot  and  a  plan  against  us  !  Will 
you  venture  to  say  that  you  didn't  know  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  was  going,  sir, 
and  that  you  don't  know  he  's  gone,  sir  V 

"  Gone  ! "  was  the  general  cry. 

"  Gone,"  echoed  Mr.  Spottletoe.  "  Gone  while  we  were  sitting  here. 
Gone.  Nobody  knows  where  he  's  gone.  Oh  of  course  not !  Nobody 
knew  he  was  going.  Oh  of  course  not  !  The  landlady  thought  up  to 
the  very  last  moment  that  they  were  merely  going  for  a  ride  ;  she  had 
no  other  suspicion.  Oh  of  course  not !  She 's  not  this  fellow 's  creature. 
Oh  of  course  not  ! " 

Adding  to  these  exclamations  a  kind  of  ironical  howl,  and  gazing 
upon  the  company  for  one  brief  instant  afterwards,  in  a  sudden  silence, 
the  irritated  gentleman  started  off  again  at  the  same  tremendous  pace, 
and  was  seen  no  more. 

It  was  in  vain  for  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  assure  them  that  this  new  and  oppor- 
tune evasion  of  the  family  was  at  least  as  great  a  shock  and  surprise  to 
him,  as  to  anybody  else.  Of  all  the  bullyings  and  denunciations  that 
were  ever  heaped  on  one  unlucky  head,  none  can  ever  have  exceeded 
in  energy  and  heartiness  those  with  which  he  was  complimented  by  each 
of  his  remaining  relatives,  singly,  upon  bidding  him  farevrell. 

The  moral  position  taken  by  Mr.  Tigg  was  something  quite  tremen- 
dous ;  and  the  deaf  cousin,  who  had  had  the  complicated  aggravation  of 


■48  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

seeing  all  the  proceecfings  and  hearing  nothing  but  the  catastrophe, 
actually  scraped  her  shoes  upon  the  scraper,  and  afterwards  distributed 
impressions  of  them  all  over  the  top  step,  in  token  that  she  shook  the 
dust  from  her  feet  before  quitting  that  dissembling  and  perfidious 
mansion. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had,  in  short,  but  one  comfort,  and  that  was  the  know- 
ledge that  all  these  his  relations  and  friends  had  hated  him  to  the  very 
utmost  extent  before ;  and  that  he,  for  his  part,  had  not  distributed  among 
them  any  more  love,  than,  with  his  ample  capital  in  that  respect,  he 
could  comfortably  afford  to  part  with.  This  view  of  his  affairs  yielded 
him  great  consolation  ;  and  the  fact  deserves  to  be  noted,  as  showing  with 
what  ease  a  good  man  may  be  consoled  under  circumstances  of  failure 
and  disappointment. 


CHAPTER  V. 

CONTAINING  A  FULL  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  INSTALLATION  OF  MR.  PECKSNIFF'S 
NEW  PUPIL  INTO  THE  BOSOM  OF  3IR.  PECKSNIFF'S  FAMILY.  WITH 
ALL  THE  FESTIVITIES  HELD  ON  THAT  OCCASION,  AND  THE  GREAT 
ENJOYMENT    OF    MR.  PINCH. 

The  best  of  architects  and  land-surveyors  kept  a  horse,  in  whom  the 
enemies  already  mentioned  more  than  once  in  these  pages,  pretended  to 
detect  a  fanciful  resemblance  to  his  master.  Not  in  his  outward  person, 
for  he  was  a  raw-boned,  haggard  horse,  always  on  a  much  shorter  allow- 
ance of  corn  than  Mr.  Pecksniff ;  but  in  his  moral  character,  wherein, 
said  they,  he  was  full  of  promise,  but  of  no  performance.  He  was  always, 
in  a  manner,  going  to  go,  and  never  going.  When  at  his  slowest  rate 
of  travelling,  he  would  sometimes  lift  up  his  legs  so  high,  and  display 
such  mighty  action,  that  it  was  difficult  to  believe  he  was  doing  less  than 
fourteen  miles  an  hour ;  and  he  was  for  ever  so  perfectly  satisfied 
with  his  own  speed,  and  so  little  disconcerted  by  opportunities  of 
comparing  himself  with  the  fastest  trotters,  that  the  illusion  was  the 
more  difficult  of  resistance.  He  was  a  kind  of  animal  who  infused  into 
the  breasts  of  strangers  a  lively  sense  of  hope,  and  possessed  all  those  who 
knew  him  better  with  a  grim  despair.  In  what  respect,  having  these 
points  of  character,  he  might  be  fairly  likened  to  his  master,  that  good 
man's  slanderers  only  can  explain.  But  it  is  a  melancholy  truth,  and  a 
deplorable  instance  of  the  uncharitableness  of  the  world,  that  they  made 
the  comparison. 

In  this  horse,  and  the  hooded  vehicle,  whatever  its  proper  name  might 
be,  to  which  he  was  usually  harnessed — it  was  more  like  a  gig  with  a 
tumour,  than  anything  else — all  Mr.  Pinch's  thoughts  and  wishes 
centred,  one  bright  frosty  morning  :  for  with  this  gallant  equipage  he 
was  about  to  drive  to  Salisbury  alone,  there  to  meet  with  the  new  pupil, 
and  thence  to  bring  him  home  in  triumph. 

Blessings  on  thy  simple  heart,  Tom  Pinch,  how  proudly  dost  thou  button 
up  that  scanty  coat,  caUed  by  a  sad  misnomer,  for  these  many  years,  a 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  49 

"  great"  one  ;  and  how  thoroughly  as  with  thy  cheerful  voice  thou 
pleasantly  adjurest  Sam  the  hostler  "  not  to  let  him  go  yet,"  dost  thou 
believe  that  quadruped  desires  to  go,  and  would  go  if  he  might !  Who 
could  repress  a  smile — of  love  for  thee,  Tom  Pinch,  and  not  in  jest  at  thy 
expense,  for  thou  art  poor  enough  already,  Heaven  knows — to  think  that 
such  a  holiday  as  lies  before  thee,  should  awaken  that  quick  flow,  and 
hurry  of  the  spirits,  in  which  thou  settest  down  again,  almost  untasted, 
on  the  kitchen  window-sill,  that  great  white  mug  (put  by,  by  thy  own 
hands,  last  night,  that  breakfast  might  not  hold  thee  late),  and  layest 
yonder  crust  upon  the  seat  beside  thee,  to  be  eaten  on  the  road,  when 
thou  art  calmer  in  thy  high  rejoicing  !  Who,  as  thou  drivest  off,  a  happy 
man,  and  noddest  with  a  grateful  lovingness  to  Pecksnifl"  in  his  nightcap 
at  his  chamber-window,  would  not  cry,  "  Heaven  speed  thee,  Tom,  and 
send  that  thou  wert  going  off  for  ever  to  some  quiet  home  where  thou 
mightst  live  at  peace,  and  sorrow  should  not  touch  thee  !" 

What  better  time  for  driving,  riding,  walking,  moving  through  the 
air  by  any  means,  than  a  fresh,  frosty  morning,  when  hope  runs  cheerily 
through  the  veins  with  the  brisk  blood,  and  tingles  in  the  frame  from 
head  to  foot  !  This  was  the  glad  commencement  of  a  bracing  day  in 
early  winter,  such  as  may  put  the  languid  summer  season  (speaking  of 
it  when  it  can't  be  had)  to  the  blush,  and  shame  the  spring  for  being 
sometimes  cold  by  halves.  The  sheep-bells  rang  as  clearly  in  the 
vigorous  air,  as  if  they  felt  its  wholesome  influence  like  living  creatures  ; 
the  trees,  in  lieu  of  leaves  or  blossoms,  shed  upon  the  ground  a  frosty 
rime  that  sparkled  as  it  fell,  and  might  have  been  the  dust  of  diamonds 
— so  it  was,  to  Tom.  From  cottage  chimneys,  smoke  went  streaming 
up  high,  high,  as  if  the  earth  had  lost  its  grossness,  being  so  fair,  and 
must  not  be  oppressed  by  heavy  vapour.  The  crust  of  ice  on  the  else 
rippling  brook,  was  so  transparent  and  so  thin  in  texture,  that  the  lively 
v.'ater  might,  of  its  own  free  will,  have  stopped — in  Tom's  glad  mind  it 
had — to  look  upon  the  lovely  morning.  And  lest  the  sun  should  break 
this  charm  too  eagerly,  there  moved  between  him  and  the  ground  a  mist 
like  that  Avhich  waits  upon  the  moon  on  summer  nights — the  very  same 
to  Tom — and  wooed  him  to  dissolve  it  gently. 

Tom  Pinch  went  on  ;  not  last,  but  with  a  sense  of  rapid  motion, 
which  did  just  as  well  ;  and  as  he  went,  all  kinds  of  things  occurred  to 
keep  him  happy.  Thus  when  he  came  within  sight  of  the  turnpike, 
and  was — Oh  a  long  way  ofi" ! — he  saw  the  tollman's  wife,  who  had  that 
moment  checked  a  waggon,  run  back  into  the  little  house  again  like 
m.ad,  to  say  (she  knew)  that  Mr.  Pinch  was  coming  up.  And  she  was 
right,  for  when  he  drew  within  hail  of  the  gate,  forth  rushed  the  toll- 
man's children,  shrieking  in  tiny  chorus,  '•  Mr.  Pinch  ! " — to  Tom's 
intense  delight.  The  very  tollman,  though  an  ugly  chap  in  general, 
and  one  whom  folks  were  rather  shy  of  handling,  came  out  himself  to 
take  the  toll,  and  give  him  rough  good  morning  :  and  what  with  all 
this,  and  a  glimpse  of  the  family  breakfast  on  a  little  round  table  before 
the  fire,  the  crust  Tom  Pinch  had  brought  away  with  him  acquired  as 
rich  a  flavour  as  though  it  had  been  cut  from  off  a  fairy  loaf 

But  there  was  more  than  this.     It  was  not  only  the  married  people 

E 


00  LIFE    AND   ADVENTURES   OF 

and  the  children  who  gave  Tom  Pinch  a  welcome  as  he  passed.  "No,  no. 
Sparkling  eyes  and  snowy  breasts  came  hurriedly  to  many  an  upper 
casement  as  he  clattered  by,  and  gave  him  back  his  greeting  :  not 
stinted  either,  but  sevenfold,  good  measure.  They  were  all  merry. 
They  all  laughed.  And  some  of  the  wickedest  among  them  even  kissed 
their  hands  as  Tom  looked  back.  For  who  minded  poor  Mr.  Pinch  1 
There  was  no  harm  in  him.  z 

And  now  the  morning  grew  so  fair,  and  all  things  were  so  wide  awake 
and  gay,  that  the  sun  seeming  to  say — Tom  had  no  doubt  he  said — "  I 
can't  stand  it  any  longer  :  I  must  have  a  look  " — streamed  out  in 
radiant  majesty.  The  mist,  too  shy  and  gentle  for  such  lusty  company, 
fled  off,  quite  scared,  before  it ;  and  as  it  swept  away,  the  hills  and 
mounds  and  distant  pasture  lands,  teeming  with  placid  sheep  and  noisy 
crows,  came  out  as  bright  as  though  they  were  unrolled  bran  new  for 
the  occasion.  In  compliment  to  which  discovery,  the  brook  stood  still 
no  longer,  but  ran  briskly  off  to  bear  the  tidings  to  the  water-mill,  three 
miles  away. 

Mr.  Pinch  was  jogging  along,  full  of  pleasant  thoughts  and  cheerful 
influences,  when  he  saw,  upon  the  path  before  him,  going  in  the  same 
direction  with  himself,  a  traveller  on  foot,  who  walked  with  a  light, 
quick  step,  and  sang  as  he  went — for  certain  in  a  very  loud  voice,  but 
not  unmusically.  He  was  a  young  fellow,  of  some  five  or  six  and-twenty 
perhaps,  and  was  drest  in  such  a  free  and  fly-away  fashion,  that  the  long 
ends  of  his  loose  red  neckcloth  were  streaming  out  behind  him  quite  as 
often  as  before  ;  and  the  bunch  of  bright  winter  berries  in  the  button- 
hole of  his  velveteen  coat,  was  as  visible  to  Mr.  Pinch's  rearward  obser- 
vation, as  if  he  had  worn  that  garment  wrong  side  foremost.  He  continued 
to  sing  with  so  much  energy,  that  he  did  not  hear  the  sound  of  wheels 
until  it  was  close  behind  him ;  when  he  turned  a  whimsical  face  and  very 
merry  pair  of  blue  eyes  on  Mr.  Pinch,  and  checked  himself  directly. 

"  Why,  Mark  ! "  said  Tom  Pinch,  stopping,  "  who'd  have  thought  of 
seeing  you  here  1     Well  !  this  is  surprising  !  " 

Mark  touched  his  hat,  and  said,  with  a  very  sudden  decrease  of 
vivacity,  that  he  was  going  to  Salisbury. 

"  And  how  spruce  you  are,  too ! "'  said  Mr.  Pinch,  surveying  him  with 
great  pleasure.  "  Really  I  didn't  think  you  were  half  such  a  tight-made 
fellow,  Mark  !  " 

"Thankee,  Mr.  Pinch.  Pretty  well  for  that,  I  believe.  It's  not 
my  fault,  you  know.  With  regard  to  being  spruce,  sir,  that's  where  it 
is,  you  see."     And  here  he  looked  particularly  gloomy. 

"  Where  what  is  1  "  Mr.  Pinch  demanded. 

"  Where  the  aggravation  of  it  is.  Any  man  may  be  in  good  spirits 
and  good  temper  when  he's  well  drest.  There  ain't  much  credit 
in  that.  If  I  was  very  ragged  and  very  jolly,  then  I  should  begin  to 
feel  I  had  gained  a  point,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  So  you  were  singing  just  now,  to  bear  up,  as  it  were,  against  being 
well  dressed,  eh,  Mark  V  said  Pinch. 

"  Your  conversation's  always  equal  to  print,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark  with 
a  broad  grin.     "  That  was  it." 


MARTIN   CHTJZZLEWIT.  51 

"  Well ! "  cried  Pincli,  "  you  are  the  strangest  young  man,  jMark,  I  ever 
knew  in  my  life.  I  always  thought  so  ;  but  now  I  am  quite  certain  of 
it.  I  am  going  to  Salisbury,  too.  Will  you  get  in  ?  I  shall  be  very 
glad  of  your  company." 

The  young  fellow  made  his  acknowledgments  and  accepted  the  offer ; 
stepping  into  the  carriage  directly,  and  seating  himself  on  the  very 
edge  of  the  seat  with  his  body  half  out  of  it,  to  express  his  being  there  on 
sufferance,  and  by  the  politeness  of  Mr.  Pinch.  As  they  went  along, 
the  conversation  proceeded  after  this  manner. 

"  I  more  than  half  believed,  just  now,  seeing  you  so  very  smart," 
said  Pinch,  "  that  you  must  be  going  to  be  married,  Mark." 

"  Well,  sir,  I've  thought  of  that,  too,"  he  replied.  "  There  might 
be  some  credit  in  being  jolly  with  a  wife,  'specially  if  the  children  had 
the  measles  and  that,  and  vras  very  fractious  indeed.  But  I'm  a'most 
afraid  to  try  it.     I  don't  see  my  way  clear." 

"  You're  not  very  fond  of  anybody,  perhaps  ?"  said  Pinch. 

"  Not  particular,  sir,  I  think." 

"  But  the  way  would  be,  you  know,  Mark,  according  to  your  views  of 
things,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  to  marry  somebody  you  didn't  like,  and  who 
was  very  disagreeable." 

"  So  it  would,  sir,  but  that  might  be  carrying  out  a  principle  a  little 
too  far,  mightn't  it '? " 

"  Perhaps  it  might,"  said  Mr.  Pinch.  At  which  they  both  laughed 
gaily. 

"  Lord  bless  you,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  you  don't  half  know  me,  though. 
I  don't  believe  there  ever  was  a  man  as  could  come  out  so  strong  under 
circumstances  that  would  make  other  men  miserable,  as  I  could,  if  I 
could  only  get  a  chance.  But  I  can't  get  a  chance.  It's  my  opinion, 
that  nobody  never  will  know  half  of  what's  in  me,  unless  something 
very  unexpected  turns  up.  And  I  don't  see  any  prospect  of  that. 
I'm  a  going  to  leave  the  Dragon,  sir." 

"  Going  to  leave  the  Dragon  ! "  cried  Mr.  Pinch,  looking  at  him  with 
great  astonishment.     "  Why,  Mark,  you  take  my  breath  away  ! " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  he  rejoined,  looking  straight  before  him  and  a  long  way 
off,  as  men  do  sometimes  when  they  cogitate  profoundly.  "  What's  the 
use  of  my  stopping  at  the  Dragon  1  It  an't  at  all  the  sort  of  place  for 
me.  When  I  left  London  (I'm  a  Kentish  man  by  birth,  though),  and 
took  that  sitivation  here,  I  quite  made  up  my  mind  that  it  was  the 
dullest  little  out-of-the-way  corner  in  England,  and  that  there  would  be 
some  credit  in  being  jolly  under  such  circumstances.  But,  Lord,  there's 
no  dulness  at  the  Dragon  !  Skittles,  cricket,  quoits,  nine-pins,  comic 
songs,  choruses,  company  round  the  chimney  corner  every  winter's 
evening — any  man  could  be  jolly  at  the  Dragon.  There's  no  credit 
in  that.''' 

"  But  if  common  report  be  true  for  once,  Mark,  as  I  think  it  is, 
being  able  to  confirm  it  by  what  I  know  myself,"  said  Mr.  Pinch, 
*'  you  are  the  cause  of  half  this  merriment,  and  set  it  going." 

"  There  may  be  something  in  that,  too,  sir,"  answered  Mark.  "  But 
that's  no  consolation." 

e2 


52  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Well !"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  after  a  short  silence,  his  usually  subdued 
tone  being  even  more  subdued  than  ever.  "  I  can  hardly  think  enough 
of  what  you  tell  me.     Why,  what  will  become  of  Mrs.  Lupin,  Mark  ?" 

Mark  looked  more  fixedly  before  him,  and  further  off  still,  as  he 
answered  that  he  didn't  suppose  it  would  be  much  of  an  object  to  her. 
There  were  plenty  of  smart  young  fellows  as  would  be  glad  of  the  place. 
He  knew  a  dozen  himself. 

"  That's  probable  enough,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  but  I  am  not  at  all 
sure  that  Mrs.  Lupin  would  be  glad  of  them.  Why,  I  always  supposed 
that  Mrs.  Lupin  and  you  would  make  a  match  of  it,  Mark  :  and  so  did 
every  one,  as  far  as  I  know." 

"  I  never,"  Mark  replied,  in  some  confusion,  "  said  nothing  as  was  in 
a  direct  way  courting-like  to  her,  nor  she  to  me,  but  I  don't  know 
what  I  mightn't  do  one  of  these  odd  times,  and  what  she  mightn't  say 
in  answer.     Well,  sir,  that  M'ouldn't  suit." 

"  Not  to  be  landlord  of  the  Dragon,  Mark  ?"  cried  Mr.  Pinch. 

"No  sir,  certainly  not,"  returned  the  other,  withdrawing  his  gaze 
from  the  horizon,  and  looking  at  his  fellow-traveller.  "  Why,  that 
would  be  the  ruin  of  a  man  like  me.  I  go  and  sit  down  comfortably 
for  life,  and  no  man  never  finds  me  out.  What  would  be  the  credit  of 
the  landlord  of  the  Dragon's  being  jolly  1  why,  he  couldn't  help  it,  if 
he  tried." 

"  Does  Mrs.  Lupin  know  you  are  going  to  leave  her  ? "  Mr.  Pinch 
enquired. 

"  I  haven't  broke  it  to  her  yet,  sir,  but  I  must.  I'm  looking  out  this 
morning  for  something  new  and  suitable,"  he  said,  nodding  towards 
the  city. 

"What  kind  of  thing  now  V  Mr.  Pinch  demanded. 

"  I  Avas  thinking,"  Mark  replied,  "  of  sometliing  in  the  grave-digging 
way." 

"  Good  Gracious,  Mark  ! "  cried  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  It 's  a  good  damp,  wormy  sort  of  business,  sir,"  said  Mark,  shaking 
his  head,  argumentatively,  "  and  there  might  be  some  credit  in  being 
jolly,  with  one's  mind  in  that  pursuit,  unless  grave-diggers  is  usually 
given  that  way ;  which  would  be  a  drawback.  You  don't  happen  to 
know  how  that  is,  in  general,  do  you,  sir  1 " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  I  don't  indeed.  I  never  thought  upon  the 
subject." 

"  In  case  of  that  not  turning  out  as  well  as  one  could  wish,  you  know," 
said  Mark,  musing  again,  "  there 's  other  businesses.  Undertaking 
now.  That 's  gloomy.  There  might  be  credit  to  be  gained  there.  A 
broker's  man  in  a  poor  neighbourhood  wouldn't  be  bad  perhaps.  A 
jailer  sees  a  deal  of  misery.  A  doctor's  man  is  in  the  very  midst  of 
murder.  A  bailiff's  an't  a  lively  oflice  nat'rally.  Even  a  tax-gatherer 
must  find  his  feelings  rather  worked  upon,  at  times.  There  's  lots  of 
trades,  in  which  I  should  have  an  opportunity,  I  think  1 " 

Mr.  Pinch  was  so  perfectly  overwhelmed  by  these  remarks  that  he 
could  do  nothing  but  occasionally  exchange  a  word  or  two  on  some 
indifferent  subject,  and  cast  sidelong  glances  at  the  bright  face  of  his 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  53 

odd  friend  (who  seemed  quite  unconscious  of  his  observation),  until  they 
reached  a  certain  corner  of  the  road,  close  upon  the  outskirts  of  the 
city,  when  Mark  said  he  would  jump  down  there,  if  he  pleased. 

"  But  bless  my  soul,  Mark,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  who  in  the  progress  of 
his  observation  just  tlien  made  the  discovery  that  the  bosom  of  his 
companion's  shirt  was  as  much  exposed  as  if  it  were  midsummer,  and 
was  ruffled  by  every  breath  of  air,  "  why  don't  you  wear  a  waistcoat  I" 

"What's  the  good  of  one,  sir?"  asked  Mark. 

"  Good  of  one  ?"  said  Mr.  Pinch.     "  Why,  to  keep  your  chest  warm." 

"Lord  love  you,  sir  !"  cried  Mark,  "you  don't  know  me.  My  chest 
don't  want  no  warming.  Even  if  it  did,  what  would  no  waistcoat 
bring  it  to  1  Inflammation  of  the  lungs,  perhaps  ?  Well,  there  'd  be 
some  credit  in  being  jolly,  with  an  inflammation  of  the  lungs." 

As  Mr.  Pinch  returned  no  other  answer  than  such  as  was  conveyed 
in  his  drawing  his  breath  very  hard,  and  opening  his  eyes  very  wide, 
and  nodding  his  head  very  much,  Mark  thanked  him  for  his  ride,  and 
without  troubling  him  to  stop,  jumped  lightly  down.  And  away  he 
fluttered,  with  his  red  neck-kerchief,  and  his  open  coat,  down  a  cross  lane : 
turning  back  from  time  to  time  to  nod  to  Mr.  Pinch,  and  looking  one 
of  the  most  careless,  good-humoured,  comical  fellows  in  life.  His  late 
companion,  with  a  thoughtful  face,  pursued  his  way  to  Salisbury. 

Mr.  Pinch  had  a  shrewd  notion  that  Salisbury  was  a  very  desperate 
sort  of  place  ;  an  exceeding  w'ild  and  dissipated  city  ;  and  w^hen  he  had 
put  up  the  horse,  and  given  the  hostler  to  understand  that  he  would 
look  in  again  in  the  course  of  an  hour  or  two  to  see  him  take  his  corn, 
he  set  forth  on  a  stroll  about  the  streets  wdth  a  vague  and  not  unpleasant 
idea  that  they  teemed  wdth  all  kinds  of  mystery  and  bedevilment.  To 
one  of  his  quiet  habits  this  little  delusion  was  greatly  assisted  by  the 
circumstance  of  its  being  market-day,  and  the  thoroughfares  about  the 
market-place  being  filled  with  carts,  horses,  donkeys,  baskets,  w^aggons, 
garden-stuff,  meat,  tripe,  pies,  poultry,  and  hucksters'  wares  of  every 
opposite  description  and  possible  variety  of  character.  Then  there  were 
young  farmers  and  old  farmers,  wdth  smock  frocks,  brown  great-coats, 
drab  great-coats,  red  worsted  comforters,  leather-leggings,  wonderful 
shaped  hats,  hunting-whips,  and  rough  sticks,  standing  about  in  groups, 
or  talking  noisily  together  on  the  tavern  steps,  or  paying  and  receiving 
huge  amounts  of  greasy  wealth,  with  the  assistance  of  such  bulky  pocket- 
books  that  when  they  were  in  their  pockets  it  was  apoplexy  to  get  them 
out,  and  w^hen  they  were  out,  it  was  spasms  to  get  them  in  again.  Also 
there  were  farmers'  wives  in  beaver  bonnets  and  red  cloaks,  riding 
shaggy  horses  purged  of  all  earthly  passions,  Avho  went  soberly  into  all 
manner  of  places  without  desiring  to  know  why,  and  who,  if  required, 
would  have  stood  stock  still  in  a  china-shop,  with  a  complete  dinner- 
service  at  each  hoof.  Also  a  great  many  dogs,  who  were  strongly  inte- 
rested in  the  state  of  the  market  and  the  bargains  of  their  masters  ;  and 
a  great  confusion  of  tongues,  both  brute  and  human. 

Mr.  Pinch  regarded  everything  exposed  for  sale  with  great  delight, 
and  was  particularly  struck  by  the  itinerant  cutlery,  which  he 
considered  of  the  very  keenest  kind,  insomuch  that  he  purchased  a 


5i  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

pocket  knife  with  seven  blades  in  it,  and  not  a  cut  (as  lie  afterwards 
found  out)  among  them.  When  he  had  exhausted  the  market-place, 
and  watched  the  farmers  safe  into  the  market  dinner,  he  went  back 
to  look  after  the  horse.  Having  seen  him  eat  unto  his  heart's  content, 
he  issued  forth  again,  to  wander  round  the  town  and  regale  himself  with 
the  shop  windows  :  previously  taking  a  long  stare  at  the  bank,  and 
wondering  in  what  direction  under-ground,  the  caverns  might  be,  where 
they  kept  the  money  ;  and  turning  to  look  back  at  one  or  two  young- 
men  who  passed  him,  whom  he  knew  to  be  articled  to  solicitors  in  the 
town  ;  and  who  had  a  sort  of  fearful  interest  in  his  eyes,  as  jolly  dogs 
who  knew  a  thing  or  two,  and  kept  it  up  tremendously. 

But  the  shops.  First  of  all,  there  were  the  jewellers'  shops,  with  all 
the  treasures  of  the  earth  displayed  therein,  and  such  large  silver  watches 
hanging  up  in  every  pane  of  glass,  that  if  they  were  anything  but  first- 
rate  goers  it  certainly  was  not  because  the  works  could  decently  com- 
plain of  want  of  room.  In  good  sooth  they  were  big  enough,  and 
perhaps,  as  the  saying  is,  ugly  enough,  to  be  the  most  correct  of  all 
mechanical  performers  ;  in  Mr.  Pinch's  eyes,  however,  they  were  smaller 
than  Geneva  ware  ;  and  when  he  saw  one  very  bloated  watch  announced 
as  a  repeater,  gifted  with  the  uncommon  power  of  striking  every  quarter 
of  an  hour  inside  the  pocket  of  its  happy  owner,  he  almost  wished  that 
he  were  rich  enough  to  buy  it. 

But  what  were  even  gold  and  silver,  precious  stones  and  clockwork, 
to  the  bookshops,  whence  a  pleasant  smell  of  paper  freshly  pressed  came 
issuing  forth,  awakening  instant  recollections  of  some  new  grammar 
had  at  school,  long  time  ago,  with  "Master  Pinch,  Grove  House 
Academy,"  inscribed  in  faultless  writing  on  the  fly-leaf !  That  whifF 
of  russia  leather,  too,  and  all  those  rows  on  rows  of  volumes,  neatly 
ranged  wdthin — ^what  happiness  did  they  suggest !  And  in  the  window 
were  the  spick-and-span  new  works  from  London,  with  the  title-pages, 
and  sometimes  even  the  first  page  of  the  first  chapter,  laid  wide  open  : 
tempting  unwary  men  to  begin  to  read  the  book,  and  then,  in  the 
impossibility  of  turning  over,  to  rush  blindly  in,  and  buy  it  !  Here 
too  were  the  dainty  frontispiece  and .  trim  vignette,  pointing  like  hand- 
posts  on  the  outskirts  of  great  cities  to  the  rich  stock  of  incident  beyond  ; 
and  store  of  books,  with  many  a  grave  portrait  and  time-honoured  name, 
whose  matter  he  knew  well,  and  would  have  given  mines  to  have,  in  any 
form,  upon  the  narrow  shelf  beside  his  bed  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's.  What  a 
heart-breaking  shop  it  was  ! 

There  was  another  ;  not  quite  so  bad  at  first,  but  still  a  trying  shop ; 
where  children's  books  were  sold,  and  where  poor  Robinson  Crusoe  stood 
alone  in  his  might,  with  dog  and  hatchet,  goat-skin  cap  and  fowling- 
pieces  :  calmly  surveying  Philip  Quarll  and  the  host  of  imitators  round 
him,  and  calling  Mr.  Pinch  to  witness  that  he,  of  all  the  crowd, 
impressed  one  solitary  foot-print  on  the  shore  of  boyish  memory,  whereof 
the  tread  of  generations  should  not  stir  the  lightest  grain  of  sand.  And 
there  too  were  the  Persian  Tales,  with  flying  chests,  and  students  of 
enchanted  books  shut  up  for  years  in  caverns  :  and  there  too  was 
Abudah,  the  merchant,  with  the  terrible  little  old  woman  hobbling  out 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  00 

•of  the  box  in  his  bedroom  :  and  there  the  mighty  talisman — the  rare 
Arabian  Nights — with  Cassim  Baba,  divided  by  four,  like  the  ghost  of 
a  dreadful  sum,  hanging  up,  all  gory,  in  the  robbers'  cave.  Which 
matchless  wonders,  coming  fast  on  Mr.  Pinch's  mind,  did  so  rub  up  and 
chafe  that  wonderful  lamp  within  him,  that  when  he  turned  his  face 
towards  the  busy  street,  a  crowd  of  phantoms  waited  on  his  pleasure, 
and  he  lived  again,  with  new  delight,  the  happy  days  before  the  Peck- 
sniff era. 

He  had  less  interest  now  in  the  chemists'  shops,  with  their  great  glowing 
bottles  (with  smaller  repositories  of  brightness  in  their  very  stoppers) ;  and 
in  their  agreeable  compromises  between  medicine  and  perfumery,  in  the 
shape  of  toothsome  lozenges  and  virgin  honey.  Neither  had  he  the  least 
regard  (but  he  never  had  much)  for  the  tailors',  where  the  newest  metro- 
politan waistcoat  patterns  were  hanging  up,  which  by  some  strange 
transformation  always  looked  amazing  there,  and  never  appeared  at  all 
like  the  same  thing  anyivhere  else.  But  he  stopped  to  read  the  playbill 
at  the  theatre,  and  surveyed  the  doorway  with  a  kind  of  awe,  which  was 
not  diminished  when  a  sallow  gentleman  with  long  dark  hair  came  out, 
and  told  a  boy  to  run  home  to  his  lodgings  and  bring  down  his  broad- 
sword. Mr.  Pinch  stood  rooted  to  the  spot  on  hearing  this,  and  might 
have  stood  there  until  dark,  but  that  the  old  cathedral  bell  began  to  ring 
for  vesper  service,  on  which  he  tore  himself  away. 

Now,  the  organist's  assistant  was  a  friend  of  Mr.  Pinch's,  which  was  a 
good  thing,  for  he  too  was  a  very  quiet,  gentle  soul,  and  had  been,  like 
Tom,  a  kind  of  old-fashioned  boy  at  school,  though  well-liked  by  the 
noisy  fellows  too.  As  good  luck  would  have  it  (Tom  always  said  he 
had  great  good  luck)  the  assistant  chanced  that  very  afternoon  to  be  on 
duty  by  himself,  with  no  one  in  the  dusty  organ-loft  but  Tom  :  so 
while  he  played,  Tom  helped  him  with  the  stops  ;  and  finally,  the 
service  being  just  over,  Tom  took  the  organ  himself.  It  was  then 
turning  dark,  and  the  yellow  light  that  streamed  in  through  the  ancient 
windows  in  the  choir  was  mingled  with  a  murky  red.  As  the  grand 
tones  resounded  through  the  church,  they  seemed,  to  Tom,  to  find  an 
echo  in  the  depth  of  every  ancient  tomb,  no  less  than  in  the  deep 
mystery  of  his  own  heart.  Great  thoughts  and  hopes  came  crowding 
on  his  mind  as  the  rich  music  rolled  upon  the  air,  and  yet  among 
them — something  more  grave  and  solemn  in  their  purpose,  but  the 
same — were  all  the  images  of  that  day,  down  to  its  very  lightest  recol- 
lection of  childhood.  The  feeling  that  the  sounds  awakened,  in  the 
moment  of  their  existence,  seemed  to  include  his  whole  life  and  being; 
and  as  the  surrounding  realities  of  stone  and  wood  and  glass  grew 
dimmer  in  the  darkness,  these  visions  grew  so  much  the  brighter  that 
Tom  might  have  forgotten  the  new  pupil  and  the  expectant  master, 
and  have  sat  there  pouring  out  his  grateful  heart  till  midnight,  but 
for  a  very  earthy  old  verger  insisting  on  locking  up  the  cathedral  forth- 
with. So  he  took  leave  of  his  friend,  with  many  thanks,  groped  his 
way  out,  as  well  as  he  could,  into  the  now  lamp-lighted  streets,  and 
hurried  off  to  get  his  dinner. 

All  the  farmers  being  by  this  time  jogging  homewards,  there  was 


56  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

nobody  in  tlie  sanded  parlour  of  the  tavern  where  he  had  left  the  horse  ; 
so  he  had  his  little  table  drawn  out  close  before  the  fire,  and  fell  to  work 
upon  a  well-cooked  steak  and  smoking  hot  potatoes,  with  a  strong 
appreciation  of  their  excellence,  and  a  very  keen  sense  of  enjoyment. 
Beside  him,  too,  there  stood  a  jug  of  most  stupendous  Wiltshire  beer ; 
and  the  effect  of  the  whole  was  so  transcendent,  that  he  was  obliged 
every  now  and  then  to  lay  down  his  knife  and  fork,  rub  his  hands,  and 
think  about  it.  By  the  time  the  cheese  and  celery  came,  Mr.  Pinch 
had  taken  a  book  out  of  his  pocket,  and  could  afford  to  trifle  with  the 
viands  ;  now  eating  a  little,  now  drinking  a  little,  now  reading  a  little, 
and  now  stopping  to  wonder  what  sort  of  a  young  man  the  new  pupil 
would  turn  out  to  be.  He  had  passed  from  this  latter  theme  and  was 
deep  in  his  book  again,  when  the  door  opened,  and  another  guest  came 
in,  bringing  with  him  such  a  quantity  of  cold  air,  that  he  positively 
seemed  at  first  to  put  the  fire  out. 

"  Very  hard  frost  to-night,  sir,"  said  the  new-comer,  courteously 
acknowledging  Mr.  Pinch's  withdrawal  of  the  little  table,  that  he  might 
have  place.     "  Don't  disturb  yourself,  I  beg." 

Though  he  said  this  with  a  vast  amount  of  consideration  for  Mr. 
Pinch's  comfort,  he  dragged  one  of  the  great  leather-bottomed  chairs  to 
the  very  centre  of  the  hearth,  notwithstanding ;  and  sat  down  in  front 
of  tlie  fire,  with  a  foot  on  each  hob. 

"  My  feet  are  quite  numbed.     Ah  !     Bitter  cold  to  be  sure." 

'•  You  have  been  in  the  air  some  considerable  time,  I  dare  say  1"  said 
Mr.  Pinch. 

"  All  day.     Outside  a  coach,  too." 

"  That  accounts  for  his  making  the  room  so  cool,"  thought  Mr.  Pinch. 
"  Poor  fellow  !     How  thoroughly  chilled  he  must  be  !" 

The  stranger  became  thoughtful,  likewise,  and  sat  for  five  or  ten 
minutes  looking  at  the  fire  in  silence.  At  length  he  rose  and  divested 
himself  of  his  shawl  and  great-coat,  which  (far  different  from  Mr. 
Pinch's)  was  a  very  warm  and  thick  one  ;  but  he  was  not  a  whit  more 
conversational  out  of  his  great-coat  than  in  it,  for  he  sat  down  again  in 
the  same  place  and  attitude,  and  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  began  to 
bite  his  nails.  He  was  young — one-and-twenty,  perhaps — and  hand- 
some ;  with  a  keen  dark  eye,  and  a  quickness  of  look  and  manner  which 
made  Tom  sensible  of  a  great  contrast  in  his  own  bearing,  and  caused 
him  to  feel  even  more  shy  than  usual. 

There  was  a  clock  in  the  room,  which  the  stranger  often  turned  to 
look  at.  Tom  made  frequent  reference  to  it  also  :  partly  from  a 
nervous  sympathy  with  his  taciturn  companion  ;  and  partly  because 
the  new  pupil  was  to  inquire  for  him  at  half  after  six,  and  the  hands 
were  getting  on  towards  that  hour.  Whenever  the  stranger  caught 
him  looking  at  this  clock,  a  kind  of  confusion  came  upon  Tom  as  if  he 
had  been  found  out  in  something  ;  and  it  was  a  perception  of  his 
uneasiness  which  caused  the  younger  man  to  say,  perhaps,  Avitli  a  smile : 

"  We  both  appear  to  be  rather  particular  about  the  time.  The  fact 
is,  I  have  an  engagement  to  meet  a  gentleman  here." 

"  So  have  I,"  said  Mr.  Pinch. 


MARTIN    CnUZZLETVIT.  57 

"  At  half-past  six,"  said  the  stranger. 

"  At  half-past  six,"  said  Tom  in  the  very  same  breath  j  whereupon 
the  other  looked  at  him  with  some  surprise. 

"  The  young  gentleman,  I  expect,"  remarked  Tom,  timidly,  "  was  to 
inquire  at  that  time  for  a  person  of  the  name  of  Pinch." 

"  Dear  me  !"  cried  the  other,  jumping  up.  "  And  I  have  been 
keeping  the  fire  from  you  all  this  while  !  I  had  no  idea  you  were  Mr. 
Pinch.  I  am  the  Mr.  Martin  for  whom  you  were  to  inquire.  Pray 
excuse  me.     How  do  you  do  1     Oh,  do  draw  nearer,  pray  !" 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Tom,  "  thank  you.  I  am  not  at  all  cold  ;  and 
you  are  ;  and  we  have  a  cold  ride  before  us.  Well,  if  you  wish  it,  I 
will.  I — I  am  very  glad,"  said  Tom,  smiling  with  an  embarrassed 
frankness  peculiarly  his,  and  which  was  as  plainly  a  confession  of  his 
own  imperfections,  and  an  appeal  to  the  kindness  of  the-  person  he 
addressed,  as  if  he  had  drawn  one  up  in  simple  language  and  committed 
it  to  paper  :  "  I  am  very  glad  indeed  that  you  turn  out  to  be  the 
party  I  expected.  I  was  thinking,  but  a  minute  ago,  that  I  could  wish 
him  to  be  like  you." 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  it,"  returned  Martin,  shaking  hands  with 
him  again  ;  "  for  I  assure  you,  I  was  thinking  there  could  be  no  such 
luck  as  Mr.  Pinch's  turning  out  like  ?/ou" 

"  No,  really  !"  said  Tom,  with  great  pleasure.     "  Are  you  serious  ?" 

"  Upon  my  word  I  am,"  replied  his  new  acquaintance.  "  You  and 
I  will  get  on  excellently  well,  I  know  :  which  it's  no  small  relief  to  me 
to  feel,  for  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  am  not  at  all  the  sort  of  fellow  who 
could  get  on  with  everybody,  and  that's  the  point  on  Avhich  I  had  the 
greatest  doubts.  But  they're  quite  relieved  now. — Do  me  the  favour 
to  ring  the  bell,  will  you  V 

Mr.  Pinch  rose,  and  complied  with  great  alacrity — the  handle  hung 
just  over  Martin's  head,  as  he  warmed  himself — and  listened  with  a 
smiling  face  to  what  his  friend  went  on  to  say.     It  was  : 

"  If  you  like  punch,  you'll  allow  me  to  order  a  glass  a-piece,  as  hot 
as  it  can  be  made,  that  we  may  usher  in  our  friendship  in  a  becoming 
manner.  To  let  you  into  a  secret,  Mr.  Pinch,  I  never  was  so  much  in 
want  of  something  warm  and  cheering  in  my  life  ;  but  I  didn't  like  to 
run  the  chance  of  beins;  found  drinkins;  it,  without  knowino;  what  kind 
of  person  you  were  ;  for  first  impressions,  you  know,  often  go  a  long 
way,  and  last  a  long  time." 

Mr.  Pinch  assented,  and  the  punch  was  ordered.  In  due  course  it 
came  :  hot  and  strong.  After  drinking  to  each  other  in  the  steaming 
mixture,  thay  became  quite  confidential. 

"  I'm  a  sort  of  relation  of  Pecksnift''s,  you  know,"  said  the  young  man. 

"  Indeed  !"  cried  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  Yes.  My  grandfather  is  his  cousin,  so  he's  kith  and  kin  to  me, 
somehow,  if  you  can  make  that  out.     /  can't." 

"Then  Martin  is  your  Christian  name?"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  thought- 
fully.    "Oh!" 

"  Of  course  it  is,"  returned  his  friend  :  "  I  wish  it  was  my  surname, 
for  my  own  is  not  a  very  pretty  one,  and  it  takes  a  long  time  to  sign. 
Chuzzlewit  is  my  name." 


58  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Dear  me  !"  cried  Mr.  Pincli,  with  an  involuntary  start. 

"  You're  not  surprised  at  my  having  two  names,  I  suppose  1"  returned 
the  other,  setting  his  glass  to  his  lips.     "  Most  people  have." 

"  Oh,  no,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  not  at  all.  Oh  dear  no  !  Well  !"  And 
then  remembering  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  privately  cautioned  him  to 
say  nothing  in  reference  to  the  old  gentleman  of  the  same  name  who 
had  lodged  at  the  Dragon,  but  to  reserve  all  mention  of  that  person  for 
him,  he  had  no  better  means  of  hiding  his  confusion,  than  by  raising 
his  own  glass  to  his  mouth.  They  looked  at  each  other  out  of  their 
respective  tumblers  for  a  few  seconds,  and  then  put  them  down  empty. 

"  I  told  them  in  the  stable  to  be  ready  for  us  ten  minutes  ago,"  said 
Mr.  Pinch,  glancing  at  the  clock  again.     "  Shall  we  go  V 

"  If  you  please,"  returned  the  other. 

"  Would  you  like  to  drive?"  said  Mr.  Pinch  ;  his  whole  face  beam- 
ing with  a  consciousness  of  the  splendour  of  his  offer.  "  You  shall,  if 
you  wish." 

"  Why,  that  depends,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Martin,  laughing,  "  upon 
what  sort  of  horse  you  have.  Because  if  he's  a  bad  one,  I  would  rather 
keep  my  hands  warm  by  holding  them  comfortably  in  my  great-coat 
pockets." 

He  appeared  to  think  this  such  a  good  joke,  that  Mr.  Pinch  was 
quite  sure  it  must  be  a  capital  one.  Accordingly,  he  laughed  too,  and 
was  fully  persuaded  that  he  enjoyed  it  very  much.  Then  he  settled 
his  bill,  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  paid  for  the  punch  ;  and  having  wrapped 
themselves  up,  to  the  extent  of  their  respective  means,  they  went  out 
together  to  the  front  door,  where  Mr.  Pecksniff's  property  stopped  the 
way. 

"  I  won't  drive,  thank  you,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Martin,  getting  into  the 
sitter's  place.  "  By  the  bye,  there's  a  box  of  mine.  Can  we  manage  to 
take  it  ? " 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  said  Tom.     "  Put  it  in,  Dick,  anywhere  !" 

It  was  not  precisely  of  that  convenient  size  which  would  admit  of  its 
being  squeezed  into  any  odd  corner,  but  Dick  the  hostler  got  it  in  some- 
how, and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  helped  him.  It  was  all  on  Mr.  Pinch's  side, 
and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  said  he  was  very  much  afraid  it  would  encumber 
him  ;  to  which  Tom  said,  "  Not  at  all ; "  though  it  forced  him  into 
such  an  awkward  position,  that  he  had  much  ado  to  see  anything  but 
his  own  knees.  But  it  is  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  any  good  ;  and 
the  wisdom  of  the  saying  was  verified  in  this  instance  ;  for  the  cold  air 
came  from  Mr.  Pinch's  side  of  the  carriage,  and  by  interposing  a  perfect 
wall  of  box  and  man  between  it  and  the  new  pupil,  he  shielded  that 
young  gentleman  effectually  :  which  was  a  great  comfort. 

It  was  a  clear  evening,  with  a  bright  moon.  The  whole  landscape 
was  silvered  by  its  light  and  by  the  hoar-frost ;  and  everything  looked 
exquisitely  beautiful.  At  first,  the  great  serenity  and  peace  through 
which  they  travelled,  disposed  them  both  to  silence  ;  but  in  a  very  short 
time  the  punch  within  them  and  the  healthful  air  without,  made  them 
loquacious,  and  they  talked  incessantly.  When  they  were  half-way 
home,  and  stopped  to  give  the  horse  some  water,  Martin  (who  was  very 
generous  with  his  money)  ordered  another  glass  of  punch,  which  they 


i'^^^^^y^Oi-ty^  i^c^?,-z^a/a.  Z^^l.-^^c-.u^' 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  59 

drank  between  tliem,  and  which  had  not  the  effect  of  making  them  less 
conversational  than  before.  Their  principal  topic  of  discourse  was 
naturally  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  family  ;  of  whom^  and  of  the  great 
obligations  they  had  heaped  upon  him,  Tom  Pinch,  with  the  tears  stand- 
ing m  his  eyes,  drew  such  a  picture,  as  would  have  inclined  any  one  of 
common  feeling  almost  to  revere  them  :  and  of  which  Mr.  Pecksniff  had 
not  the  slightest  foresight  or  preconceived  idea,  or  he  certainly  (being- 
very  humble)  would  not  have  sent  Tom  Pinch  to  bring  the  pupil  home. 

In  this  way  they  went  on,  and  on,  and  on — in  the  language  of  the 
story-books — until  at  last  the  village  lights  appeared  before  them,  and 
the  church  spire  cast  a  long  reflection  on  the  grave-yard  grass  :  as  if  it 
were  a  dial  (alas  the  truest  in  the  world  !)  marking,  whatever  light 
shone  out  of  Heaven,  the  flight  of  days  and  weeks  and  years,  by  some 
new  shadow  on  that  solemn  ground. 

"  A  pretty  church  1 "  said  Martin,  observing  that  his  companion 
slackened  the  slack  pace  of  the  horse,  as  they  approached. 

"  Is  it  not  ?  "  cried  Tom,  with  great  pride.  "  There's  the  sweetest 
little  organ  there  you  ever  heard.     I  play  it  for  them." 

"  Indeed  1 "  said  Martin.  "It  is  hardly  worth  the  trouble,  I  should 
think.     What  do  you  get  for  that,  now  V 

"  Nothing,"  answered  Tom. 

"  Well,"  returned  his  friend,  "you  are  a  very  strange  fellow  1" 

To  which  remark  there  succeeded  a  brief  silence. 

"  When  I  say  nothing,"  observed  Mr.  Pinch,  cheerfully,  "  I  am  wrong, 
and  don't  say  what  I  mean,  because  I  get  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  from 
it,  and  the  means  of  passing  some  of  the  happiest  hours  I  know.  It  led 
to  something  else  the  other  day — but  you  will  not  care  to  hear  about 
that,  I  dare  say?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  shall.     What  ?" 

"  It  led  to  my  seeing,"  said  Tom,  in  a  lower  voice,  "  one  of  the  loveliest 
and  most  beautiful  faces  you  can  possibly  picture  to  yourself." 

"  And  yet  I  am  able  to  picture  a  beautiful  one,"  said  his  friend, 
thoughtfully,  "  or  should  be,  if  I  have  any  memory." 

"  She  came,"  said  Tom,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  other's  arm,  "  for 
the  first  time,  very  early  in  the  morning,  when  it  was  hardly  light ;  and 
when  I  saw  her,  over  my  shoulder,  standing  just  within  the  porch,  I 
turned  quite  cold,  almost  believing  her  to  be  a  spirit.  A  moment's 
reflection  got  the  better  of  that  of  course,  and  fortunately  it  came  to  my 
relief  so  soon,  that  I  didn't  leave  off  playing." 

"Why  fortunately]" 

"  Why  ?  Because  she  stood  there^  listening.  I  had  my  spectacles 
on,  and  saw  her  through  the  chinks  in  the  curtains  as  plainly  as  I  see 
you  ;  and  she  was  beautiful.  After  a  M'hile  she  glided  off,  and  I  con- 
tinued to  play  until  she  was  out  of  hearing." 

"Why  did  you  do  that?" 

"Don't  you  see?"  responded  Tom.  "Because  she  might  suppose  I 
hadn't  seen  her  ;  and  might  return."    • 

"  And  did  she  1 " 

"  Certainly  she  did.  Next  morning,  and  next  evening  too  :  but 
always  when  there  were  no  people  about,  and  always  alone.     I  rose 


60  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

earlier  and  sat  there  later,  that  when  she  came,  she  might  find  the 
church  door  open,  and  the  organ  playing,  and  might  not  be  disappointed. 
She  strolled  that  way  for  some  days,  and  always  staid  to  listen.  But 
she  is  gone  now,  and  of  all  unlikely  things  in  this  wide  world,  it  is 
perhaps  the  most  improbable  that  I  shall  ever  look  upon  her  face  again.'* 

"  You  don't  know  anything  more  about  her  V 

"No." 

"  And  you  never  followed  her,  when  she  went  away  ?" 

"Why  should  I  distress  her  by  doing  that?"  said  Tom  Pinch.  "Is 
it  likely  that  she  wanted  my  company  1  She  came  to  hear  the  organ, 
not  to  see  me  ;  and  would  you  have  had  me  scare  her  from  a  place  she 
seemed  to  grow  quite  fond  of?  Now,  Heaven  bless  her  !"  cried  Tom, 
"  to  have  given  her  but  a  minute's  pleasure  every  day,  I  would  have 
gone  on  playing  the  organ  at  those  times  until  I  was  an  old  man  : 
quite  contented  if  she  sometimes  thought  of  a  poor  fellow  like  me,  as  a 
part  of  the  music  ;  and  more  than  recompensed  if  she  ever  mixed  me  up 
with  anything  she  liked  as  well  as  she  liked  that ! " 

The  new  pupil  was  clearly  very  much  amazed  by  Mr.  Pinch's  weak- 
ness, and  would  probably  have  told  him  so,  and  given  him  some  good 
advice,  but  for  their  opportune  arrival  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's  door  :  the 
front  door  this  time,  on  account  of  the  occasion  being  one  of  ceremony 
and  rejoicing.  The  same  man  was  in  waiting  for  the  horse  who  had 
been  adjured  by  Mr.  Pinch  in  the  morning  not  to  yield  to  his  rabid 
desire  to  start ;  and  after  delivering  the  animal  into  his  charge,  and 
beseeching  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  in  a  whisper  never  to  reveal  a  syllable  of 
what  he  had  just  told  him  in  the  fulness  of  his  heart,  Tom  led  the  pupil 
in,  for  instant  presentation. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  clearly  not  expected  them  for  hours  to  come  :  for 
lie  was  surrounded  by  open  books,  and  was  glancing  from  volume  to 
volume,  with  a  black-lead  pencil  in  his  mouth,  and  a  pair  of  compasses 
in  his  hand,  at  a  vast  number  of  mathematical  diagrams,  of  such  extra- 
ordinary shapes  that  they  looked  like  designs  for  fireworks.  Neither 
had  Miss  Charity  expected  them,  for  she  was  busied,  with  a  capacious 
wicker  basket  before  her,  in  making  impracticable  nightcaps  for  the 
poor.  Neither  had  Miss  Mercy  expected  them,  for  she  was  sitting  upon 
her  stool,  tying  on  the — oh  good  gracious  ! — the  petticoat  of  a  large 
doll  that  she  was  dressing  for  a  neighbour's  child  :  really,  quite  a 
grown-up  doll,  which  made  it  more  confusing  :  and  had  its  little  bonnet 
dangling  by  the  ribbon  from  one  of  her  fair  curls,  to  which  she  had 
fastened  it,  lest  it  should  be  lost,  or  sat  upon.  It  would  be  difficult,  if 
not  impossible,  to  conceive  a  family  so  thoroughly  taken  by  surprise  as 
the  Pecksniffs  were,  on  this  occasion. 

"  Bless  my  life  ! "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  up,  'and  gradually  ex- 
changing his  abstracted  face  for  one  of  joyful  recognition.  "  Here  already  1 
Martin,  my  dear  boy,  I  am  delighted  to  welcome  you  to  my  poor  house  ! " 

With  this  kind  greeting,  Mr.  Pecksniff  fairly  took  him  to  his  arms, 
and  patted  him  several  times  upon  the  back  with  his  right  hand  the 
while,  as  if  to  express  that  his  feelings  during  the  embrace  were  too 
much  for  utterance. 

"  But  here,"  he  said,  recovering,   "  are  my  daughters,  Martin  :  my 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  61 

two  only  children,  whom  (if  you  ever  saw  them)  you  have  not  beheld — 
ah,  these  sad  family  divisions ! — since  you  were  infants  together.  Nay, 
my  dears,  why  blush  at  being  detected  in  your  every-day  pursuits?  ^Ye 
had  prepared  to  give  you  the  reception  of  a  visitor,  Martin,  in  our  little 
room  of  state,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling,  "  but  I  like  this  better — I 
like  this  better  1" 

Oh  blessed  star  of  Innocence,  wherever  you  may  be,  how  did  you 
glitter  in  your  hiome  of  ether,  when  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  put  forth, 
each  her  lily  hand,  and  gave  the  same,  with  mantling  cheeks,  to  Martin ! 
How  did  you  twinkle,  as  if  fluttering  with  sympathy,  when  Mercy 
reminded  of  the  bonnet  in  her  hair,  hid  her  fair  face  and  turned  her 
head  aside  :  the  while  her  gentle  sister  plucked  it  out,  and  smote  her, 
with  a  sister's  soft  reproof,  upon  her  buxom  shoulder  ! 

"  And  how,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  turning  round  after  the  contemplation 
of  these  passages,  and  taking  Mr.  Pinch  in  a  friendly  manner  by  the 
elbow,  "  how  has  our  friend  here  used  you,  Martin  ? " 

"  Very  well  indeed,  sir.     We  are  on  the  best  terms,  I  assure  you." 

"  Old  Tom  Pinch  ! "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  on  him  with  affec- 
tionate sadness.  "  Ah  !  It  seems  but  yesterday  that  Thomas  was  a  boy, 
fresh  from  a  scholastic  course.  Yet  years  have  passed,  I  think,  since 
Thomas  Pinch  and  I  first  walked  the  world  together  !" 

Mr.  Pinch  could  say  nothing.  He  was  too  much  moved.  But  he 
pressed  his  master's  hand,  and  tried  to  thank  him. 

"  And  Thomas  Pinch  and  I,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  deeper  voice, 
"  will  walk  it  yet,  in  mutual  faithfulness  and  friendship  !  And  if  it 
comes  to  pass  that  either  of  us  be  run  over,  in  any  of  those  busy  crossings 
which  divide  the  streets  of  life,  the  other  will  convey  him  to  the  hospital 
in  Hope,  and  sit  beside  his  bed  in  Bounty  !" 

"Well,  well,  well!"  he  added  in  a  happier  tone,  as  he  shook  Mr. 
Pinch's  elbow,  hard.  "  No  more  of  this  !  Martin,  my  dear  friend,  that 
you  may  be  at  home  within  these  walls,  let  me  show  you  how  we  live, 
and  where.     Come  !" 

With  that  he  took  up  a  lighted  candle,  and,  attended  by  his  young 
relative,  prepared  to  leave  the  room.     At  the  door,  he  stopped. 

"  You'll  bear  us  company,  Tom  Pinch  ?" 

Ay,  cheerfully,  though  it  had  been  to  death,  would  Tom  ha-\'e 
followed  him  :  glad  to  lay  down  his  life  for  such  a  man  ! 

"  This,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  opening  the  door  of  an  opposite  parlour, 
''  is  the  little  room  of  state,  I  mentioned  to  you.  My  girls  have  pride 
in  it,  Martin  !  This,"  opening  another  door,  "  is  the  little  chamber  in 
which  my  works  (slight  things  at  best)  have  been  concocted.  Portrait 
of  myself  by  Spiller.  Bust  by  Spoker.  The  latter  is  considered  a  good 
likeness.  I  seem  to  recoo-nise  somethinjy  about  the  left-hand  corner  of 
the  nose,  myself." 

Martin  thought  it  was  very  like,  but  scarcely  intellectual  enough. 
Mr.  Pecksniff  observed  that  the  same  fault  had  been  found  with  it  before. 
It  was  remarkable  it  should  have  struck  his  young  relation  too.  He  was 
glad  to  see  he  had  an  eye  for  art. 

"  Various  books  you  observe,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  waving  his  hand 
towards  the  wall,  "  connected  with  our  pursuit.    I  have  scribbled  myself, 


62  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

but  have  not  yet  published.  Be  careful  how  you  come  up  stairs. 
This"  opening  another  door,  "is  my  chamber.  I  read  here  when  the 
family  suppose  I  have  retired  to  rest.  Sometimes  I  injure  my  health, 
rather  more  than  I  can  quite  justify  to  myself,  by  doing  so  ;  but  art  is 
long  and  time  is  short.  Every  facility  you  see  for  jotting  down  crude 
notions,  even  here." 

These  latter  words  were  explained  by  his  pointing  to  a  small  round 
table  on  which  were  a  lamp,  divers  sheets  of  paper,  a  piece  of  India 
rubber,  and  a  case  of  instruments  :  all  put  ready,  in  case  an  archi- 
tectural idea  should  come  into  Mr.  PecksniiF's  head  in  the  night ;  in 
which  event  he  would  instantly  leap  out  of  bed,  and  fix  it  for  ever. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  opened  another  door  on  the  same  floor,  and  shut  it 
again,  all  at  once,  as  if  it  were  a  Blue  Chamber.  But  before  he  had  well 
done  so,  he  looked  smilingly  round,  and  said  "Why  not  1 " 

Martin  couldn't  say  why  not,  because  he  didn't  know  anything  at  all 
about  it.  So  Mr.  Pecksniff  answered  himself,  by  throwing  open  the 
door,  and  saying  ; 

"  My  daughters'  room.  A  poor  first-floor  to  us,  but  a  bower  to  them. 
Very  neat.  Very  airy.  Plants  you  observe  ;  hyacinths  ;  books  again  ; 
birds."  These  birds,  by  the  bye,  comprised  in  all  one  staggering  old 
sparrow  without  a  tail,  which  had  been  borrowed  expressly  from  the 
kitchen.  "  Such  trifles  as  girls  love,  are  here.  Nothing  more.  Those 
who  seek  heartless  splendour,  would  seek  here  in  vain." 

With  that  he  led  them  to  the  floor  above. 

"  This,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  throwing  wide  the  door  of  the  memorable 
two-pair  front ;  "is  a  room  where  some  talent  has  been  developed,  I 
believe.  This  is  a  room  in  which  an  idea  for  a  steeple  occurred  to  me, 
that  I  may  one  day  give  to  the  world.  We  work  here,  my  dear  Martin. 
Some  architects  have  been  bred  in  this  room : — a  few,  I  think,  Mr.  Pinch?" 

Tom  fully  assented  ;  and,  what  is  more,  fully  believed  it. 

"  You  see,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  passing  the  candle  rapidly  from  roll  to 
roll  of  paper,  "  some  traces  of  our  doings  here.  Salisbury  Cathedral 
from  the  north.  From  the  south.  From  the  east.  From  the  west.  From 
the  south-east.  From  the  nor'-west.  A  bridge.  An  alms-house.  A  jail. 
A  church.  A  powder-magazine.  A  wine-cellar.  A  portico.  A  summer- 
house.  An  ice-house.  Plans,  elevations,  sections,  every  kind  of  thing. 
And  this,"  he  added,  having  by  this  time  reached  another  large  chamber 
on  the  same  story  with  four  little  beds  in  it,  '•  this  is  your  room,  of 
which  Mr.  Pinch  here,  is  the  quiet  sharer.  A  southern  aspect ;  a  charm- 
ing prospect ;  Mr.  Pinch's  little  library,  you  perceive;  everything  agree- 
able and  appropriate.  If  there  is  any  additional  comfort  you  would 
desire  to  have  here  at  any  time,  pray  mention  it.  Even  to  strangers — 
far  less  to  you,  my  dear  Martin — there  is  no  restriction  on  that  point." 

It  was  undoubtedly  true,  and  may  be  stated  in  corroboration  of 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  that  any  pupil  had  the  most  liberal  permission  to  mention 
any  thing  in  this  way  that  suggested  itself  to  his  fancy.  Some  young 
gentlemen  had  gone  on  mentioning  the  very  same  thing  for  five  years 
without  ever  being  stopped. 

"  The  domestic  assistants,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  sleep  above  ;  and  that 
is  all."     After  which,  and  listening  complacently  as  he  went,  to  the 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  63 

encomiums  passed  by  his  young  friend  on  the  arrangements  generally,  he 
led  the  way  to  the  parlour  again. 

Here  a  great  change  had  taken  place  ;  for  festive  preparations  on 
a  rather  extensive  scale  were  already  completed,  and  the  two  Miss 
Pecksniffs  were  awaiting  their  return  with  hospitable  looks.  There  were 
two  bottles  of  currant  wine — white  and  red ;  a  dish  of  sandwiches  (very 
long  and  very  slim)  ;  another  of  apples  ;  another  of  captains'  biscuits 
(which  are  always  a  moist  and  jovial  sort  of  viand)  ;  a  plate  of  oranges 
cut  up  small  and  gritty;  with  powdered  sugar,  and  a  highly  geological 
home-made  cake.  The  magnitude  of  these  preparations  quite  took  away 
Tom  Pinch's  breath  :  for  though  the  new  pupils  were  usually  let  down 
softly,  as  one  may  say,  particularly  in  the  wine  department,  which  had 
so  many  stages  of  declension,  that  sometimes  a  young  gentleman  was  a 
whole  fortnight  in  getting  to  the  pump  ;  still  this  was  a  banquet  :  a  sort 
of  Lord  Mayor's  feast  in  private  life  :  a  something  to  think  of,  and  hold 
on  by,  afterwards. 

To  this  entertainment,  which,  apart  from  its  own  intrinsic  merits,  had 
the  additional  choice  quality  that  it  was  in  strict  keeping  with  the  night, 
being  both  light  and  cool,  Mr.  Pecksniff  besought  the  company  to  do 
full  justice. 

"  Martin,"  he  said,  "  will  seat  himself  between  you  two,  my  dears,  and 
Mr.  Pinch  will  come  by  me.  Let  us  drink  to  our  new  inmate,  and  may 
we  be  happy  together !  Martin,  my  dear  friend,  my  love  to  you  I 
Mr.  Pinch,  if  you  spare  the  bottle  we  shall  quarrel." 

And  trying  (in  his  regard  for  the  feelings  of  the  rest)  to  look  as  if  the 
wine  were  not  acid  and  didn't  make  him  wink,  Mr.  Pecksniff  did  honour 
to  his  own  toast. 

"  This,"  he  said,  in  allusion  to  the  party,  not  the  wine,  "  is  a  mingling 
that  repays  one  for  much  disappointment  and  vexation.  Let  us  be  merry." 
Here  he  took  a  captain's  biscuit.  "  It  is  a  poor  heart  that  never  rejoices  ; 
and  our  hearts  are  not  poor  1     No  !  " 

With  such  stimulants  to  merriment  did  he  beguile  the  time,  and  do 
the  honours  of  the  table ;  while  Mr.  Pinch,  perhaps  to  assure  himself 
that  what  he  saw  and  heard  was  holiday  reality,  and  not  a  charming  dream, 
ate  of  everything,  and  in  particular  disposed  of  the  slim  sandwiches  to  a 
surprising  extent.  Nor  was  he  stinted  in  his  draughts  of  wine  ;  but  on 
the  contrary,  remembering  Mr.  Pecksniff's  speech,  attacked  the  bottle 
with  such  vigour,  that  every  time  he  filled  his  glass  anew.  Miss  Charity, 
despite  her  amiable  resolves,  could  not  repress  a  fLxed  and  stony  glare, 
as  if  her  eyes  had  rested  on  a  ghost.  Mr.  Pecksniff  also  became 
thoughtful  at  those  moments,  not  to  say  dejected  :  but,  as  he  knew 
the  vintage,  it  is  very  likely  he  may  have  been  speculating  on  the 
probable  condition  of  Mr.  Pinch  upon  the  morrow,  and  discussing  within 
himself  the  best  remedies  for  colic. 

Martin  and  the  young  ladies  were  excellent  friends  already,  and  com- 
pared recollections  of  their  childish  days,  to  their  mutual  liveliness  and 
entertainment.  Miss  Mercy  laughed  immensely  at  everything  that  was 
said;  and  sometimes,  after  glancing  at  the  happy  face  of  Mr.  Pinch, 
was  seized  with  such  fits  of  mirth  as  brought  her  to  the  very  confines  of 
hysterics.     But,  for  these  bursts  of  gaiety,,  her  sister,  in  her  better  sense^ 


64  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

reproved  her ;  observing,  in  an  angry  whisper,  that  it  was  far  from  being 
a  theme  for  jest;  and  that  she  had  no  patience  with  the  creature;  though 
it  generally  ended  in  her  laughing  too — but  much  more  moderately — • 
and  saying,  that  indeed  it  was  a  little  too  ridiculous  and  intolerable  to  be 
serious  about. 

At  length  it  became  high  time  to  remember  the  first  clause  of  that 
great  discovery  made  by  the  ancient  philosopher,  for  securing  health, 
riches,  and  wisdom  ;  the  infallibility  of  which  has  been  for  generations 
verified  by  the  enormous  fortunes,  constantly  amassed  by  chimney- 
sweepers and  other  persons  who  get  up  early  and  go  to  bed  betimes. 
The  young  ladies  accordingly  rose,  and  having  taken  leave  of  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit  with  much  sweetness,  and  of  their  father  with  much  duty, 
and  of  Mr.  Pinch  with  much  condescension,  retired  to  their  bower. 
Mr.  Pecksniff  insisted  on  accompanying  his  young  friend  up-stairs,  for 
personal  superintendence  of  his  comforts  ;  and  taking  him  by  the  arm, 
conducted  him  once  more  to  his  bedroom,  followed  by  Mr.  Pinch,  who 
bore  the  light. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff",  seating  himself  with  folded  arms  on  one 
of  the  spare  beds.  "  I  don't  see  any  snuffers  in  that  candlestick. 
Will  you  oblige  me  by  going  down,  and  asking  for  a  pair  1" 

Mr.  Pinch,  only  too  happy  to  be  useful,  went  off*  directly. 

"  You  will  excuse  Thomas  Pinch's  want  of  polish,  Martin,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff",  with  a  smile  of  patronage  and  pity,  as  soon  as  he  had  left 
the  room.     "  He  means  well." 

"  He  is  a  very  good  fellow,  sir." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff".  "  Yes.  Thomas  Pinch  means  well. 
He  is  very  grateful.  I  have  never  regretted  having  befriended  Thomas 
Pinch." 

"  I  should  think  you  never  would,  sir." 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff".  "  No.  I  hope  not.  Poor  fellow,  he  is 
always  disposed  to  do  his  best ;  but  he  is  not  gifted.  You  will  make 
him  useful  to  you,  Martin,  if  you  please.  If  Thomas  has  a  fault,  it  is 
that  he  is  sometimes  a  little  apt  to  forget  his  position.  But  that  is 
soon  checked.  Worthy  soul !  You  will  find  him  easy  to  manage. 
Good  night !" 

"  Good  night,  sir." 

By  this  time  Mr.  Pinch  had  returned  with  the  snuff"ers. 

"  And  good  night  to  you,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff.  "  And  sound 
sleep  to  you  both.     Bless  you  !     Bless  you  !" 

Invoking  this  benediction  on  the  heads  of  his  young  friends  with 
great  fervour,  he  withdrew  to  his  own  room  ;  while  they,  being  tired, 
soon  fell  asleep.  If  Martin  dreamed  at  all,  some  clew  to  the  matter  of 
his  visions  may  possibly  be  gathered  from  the  after-pages  of  this  history. 
Those  of  Thomas  Pinch  were  all  of  holidays,  church  organs,  and 
seraphic  Pecksniff's.  It  was  some  time  before  Mr.  Pecksniff"  dreamed  at 
all,  or  even  sought  his  pillow,  as  he  sat  for  full  two  hours  before  the 
fire  in  his  own  chamber,  looking  at  the  coals  and  thinking  deeply.  But 
he,  too,  slept  and  dreamed  at  last.  Thus  in  the  quiet  hours  of  the 
night,  one  house  shuts  in  as  many  incoherent  and  incongruous  fancies 
as  a  madman's  head. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  65 


CHAPTER  VI. 

COMPRISES,  AMONO  OTHER  IMPORTANT  MATTERS,  PECKSNIFFIAN  AND  ARCHI- 
TECTURAL, AN  EXACT  RELATION  OF  THE  PROGRESS  MADE  BY  MR.  PINCH 
IN  THE  CONFIDENCE  AND  FRIENDSHIP  OF  THE  NEW  PUPIL. 

It  was  morning ;  and  tlie  beautiful  Aurora,  of  whom  so  much  hath 
been  written,  said,  and  sung,  did,  with  her  rosy  fingers,  nip  and  tweak 
Miss  Pecksniffs  nose.  It  was  the  frolicsome  custom  of  the  Goddess,  in 
her  intercourse  with  the  fair  Cherry,  so  to  do ;  or  in  more  prosaic  phrase, 
the  tip  of  that  feature  in  the  sweet  girl's  countenance,  was  always  very 
red  at  breakfast-time.  Por  the  most  part,  indeed,  it  wore,  at  that  season 
of  the  day,  a  scraped  and  frosty  look,  as  if  it  had  been  rasped  ;  while  a 
similar  phenomenon  developed  itself  in  her  humour,  which  was  then 
observed  to  be  of  a  sharp  and  acid  quality,  as  though  an  extra  lemon 
(figuratively  speaking)  had  been  squeezed  into  the  nectar  of  her  dis- 
position, and  had  rather  damaged  its  flavour. 

This  additional  pungency  on  the  part  of  the  fair  young  creature  led, 
on  ordinary  occasions,  to  such  slight  consequences  as  the  copious  dilution 
of  Mr.  Pinch's  tea,  or  to  his  coming  off  uncommonly  short  in  respect  of 
butter,  or  tb  other  the  like  results.  But  on  the  morning  after  the 
Installation  Banquet,  she  suffered  him  to  wander  to  and  fro  among  the 
eatables  and  drinkables,  a  perfectly  free  and  unchecked  man  ;  so  utterly 
to  Mr.  Pinch's  wonder  and  confusion,  that  like  the  wretched  captive 
who  recovered  his  liberty  in  his  old  ago,  he  could  make  but  little  use  of 
his  enlargement,  and  fell  into  a  strange  kind  of  flutter  for  want  of 
some  kind  hand  to  scrape  his  bread,  and  cut  him  off"  in  the  article  of 
sugar  with  a  lump,  and  pay  him  those  other  little  attentions  to  which  he 
was  accustomed.  There  was  something  almost  awful,  too,  about  the 
self-possession  of  the  new  pupil  ;  who  "  troubled"  Mr.  Pecksniff"  for  the 
loaf,  and  helped  himself  to  a  rasher  of  that  gentleman's  own  particular 
and  private  bacon,  with  all  the  coolness  in  life.  He  even  seemed  to 
think  that  he  was  doing  quite  a  regular  thing,  and  to  expect  that 
Mr.  Pinch  would  follov/  his  example,  since  he  took  occasion  to  observe 
of  that  young  man  "that  he  didn't  get  on":"  a  speech  of  so  tremendous 
a  character,  that  Tom  cast  down  his  eyes  involuntarily,  and  felt  as  if  he 
himself  had  committed  some  horrible  deed  and  heinous  breach  of 
Mr.  Pecksniff"'s  confidence.  Indeed,  the  agony  of  having  such  an 
indiscreet  remark  addressed  to  him  before  the  assembled  family,  was 
breakfast  enough  in  itself,  and  would,  without  any  other  matter  of 
reflection,  have  settled  Mr.  Pinch's  business  and  quenched  his  appetite, 
for  one  meal,  though  he  had  been  never  so  hungry. 

The  young  ladies,  however,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  likewise,  remained  in 
the  very  best  of  spirits  in  spite  of  these  severe  trials,  though  with 
something  of  a  mysterious  understanding  among  themselves.  When 
the  meal  was  nearly  over,  Mr.  Pecksniff  smilingly  explained  the  cause 
of  their  common  satisfaction. 

'•  It  is  not  often,"  he  said,  "  Martin,  that  my  daughters  and  I  desert 

F 


66  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES   OP 

our  quiet  home  to  pursue  the  giddy  round  of  pleasures  that  revolves 
abroad.     But  we  think  of  doing  so  to-day." 

"  Indeed,  sir  !"  cried  the  new  pupil.' 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  tapping  his  left  hand  with  a  letter  which 
he  held  in  his  right.  "  I  have  a  summons  here  to  repair  to  London  ;  on 
professional  business,  my  dear  Martin  ;  strictly  on  professional  business  ; 
and  I  promised  my  girls,  long  ago,  that  whenever  that  happened  again, 
they  should  accompany  me.  We  shall  go  forth  to-night  by  the  heavy 
coach — ^like  the  dove  of  old,  my  dear  Martin — and  it  will  be  a  week 
before  we  again  deposit  our  olive-branches  in  the  passage.  When  I  say 
olive-branches,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  explanation,  "  I  mean,  our 
unpretending  luggage." 

"  I  hope  the  young  ladies  will  enjoy  their  trip,"  said  Martin. 

"  Oh  !  that  I'm  sure  we  shall ! "  cried  Mercy,  clapping  her  hands. 
"  Good  gracious,  Cherry,  my  darling,  the  idea  of  London  ! " 

"  Ardent  child  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  gazing  on  her  in  a  dreamy  way. 
"  And  yet  there  is  a  melancholy  sweetness  in  these  youthful  hopes  !  It 
is  pleasant  to  know  that  they  never  can  be  realised.  I  remember 
thinking  once  myself,  in  the  days  of  my  childhood,  that  pickled  onions 
grew  on  trees,  and  that  every  elephant  was  born  w^ith  an  impregnable 
castle  on  his  back.  I  have  not  found  the  fact  to  be  so  ;  far  from  it  ; 
and  yet  those  visions  have  comforted  me  under  circumstances  of  trial. 
Even  when  I  have  had  the  anguish  of  discovering  that  I  have  nourished 
in  my  breast  an  ostrich,  and  not  a  human  pupil — even  in  that  hour  of 
agony,  they  have  soothed  me." 

At  this  dread  allusion  to  John  Westlock,  Mr.  Pinch  precipitately 
choked  in  his  tea  ;  for  he  had  that  very  morning  received  a  letter  from 
him,  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  very  well  knew. 

"  You  will  take  care,  my  dear  Martin,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  resuming- 
his  former  cheerfulness,  "  that  the  house  does  not  run  away  in  our  absence. 
We  leave  you  in  charge  of  everything.  There  is  no  mystery  ;  all  is  free 
and  open.  Unlike  the  young  man  in  the  Eastern  tale — who  is  described 
as  a  one-eyed  almanack,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  Mr.  Pinch  ?" — 

"  A  one-eyed  calender,  I  think,  sir,"  faultered  Tom. 

"  They  are  pretty  nearly  the  same  thing,  I  believe,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, smiling  compassionately ;  "  or  they  used  to  be  in  my  time.  Unlike 
that  young  man,  my  dear  Martin,  you  are  forbidden  to  enter  no  corner 
of  this  house  ;  but  are  requested  to  make  yourself  perfectly  at  home  in 
every  part  of  it.  You  will  be  jovial,  my  dear  Martin,  and  will  kill  the 
fatted  calf  if  you  please  ! " 

There  was  not  the  least  objection,  doubtless,  to  the  young  man's 
slaughtering  and  appropriating  to  his  own  use  any  calf,  fat  or  lean,  that 
he  might  happen  to  find  upon  the  premises  ;  but  as  no  such  animal 
chanced  at  that  time  to  be  grazing  on  Mr.  Pecksniffs  estate,  this  request 
must  be  considered  rather  as  a  polite  compliment  than  a  substantial 
hospitality.  It  was  the  finishing  ornament  of  the  conversation  ;  for 
when  he  had  delivered  it,  Mr.  Pecksniff  rose,  and  led  the  way  to  that 
hotbed  of  architectural  genius,  the  two-pair  front. 

"  Let  me  see,"  he  said,  searching  among  the  papers,  '•'  how  you  can 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  67 

best  employ  yourself,  Martin,  while  I  am  absent.  Suppose  you  were 
to  give  me  your  idea  of  a  monument  to  a  Lord  Mayor  of  London  ;  or 
a  tomb  for  a  sheriff ;  or  your  notion  of  a  cow-house  to  be  erected  in 
a  nobleman's  park.  Do  you  know,  now,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  folding 
his  hands,  and  looking  at  his  young  relation  with  an  air  of  pensive 
interest,  "  that  I  should  very  much  like  to  see  your  notion  of  a  cow- 
house ? " 

But  Martin  by  no  means  appeared  to  relish  this  suggestion. 

"A  pump,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "is  very  chaste  practice.  I  have 
found  tliat  a  lamp-post  is  calculated  to  refine  the  mind  and  give  it  a 
classical  tendency.  An  ornamental  turnpike  has  a  remarkable  effect 
upon  the  imagination.  What  do  you  say  to  beginning  with  an  orna- 
mental turnpike  \ " 

"  Wliatever  Mr.  Pecksniff  pleased,"  said  Martin,  doubtfully. 

"  Stay,"  said  that  gentleman.  "  Come  1  as  you're  ambitious,  and 
are  a  very  neat  draughtsman,  you  shall — ha  ha ! — you  shall  try  your 
hand  on  these  proposals  for  a  grammar-school :  regulating  your  plan,  of 
course,  by  the  printed  particulars.  Upon  my  word,  now,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  merrily,  "  I  shall  be  very  curious  to  see  what  you  make  of 
the  grammar-school.  Who  knows  but  a  young  man  of  your  taste  might 
hit  upon  something,  impracticable  and  unlikely  in  itself,  but  which  I 
could  put  into  shape  ?  For  it  really  is,  my  dear  Martin,  it  really  is 
in  the  finishing  touches  alone,  that  great  experience  and  long  study  in 
these  matters  tell.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Now  it  really  will  be,"  continued  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  clapping  his  young  friend  on  the  back  in  his  droll  humour, 
"  an  amusement  to  me,  to  see  what  you  make  of  the  grammar-school." 

Martin  readily  undertook  this  task,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  forthwith  pro- 
ceeded to  entrust  him  with  the  materials  necessary  for  its  execution  : 
dwelling  meanwhile  on  the  magical  effect  of  a  few  finishing  touches  from 
the  hand  of  a  master ;  which,  indeed,  as  some  people  said  (and  these 
were  the  old  enemies  again  !)  was  unquestionably  very  surprising,  and 
almost  miraculous ;  as  there  were  cases  on  record  in  which  the  masterly 
introduction  of  an  additional  back  window,  or  a  kitchen  door,  or  half-a- 
dozen  steps,  or  even  a  water  spout,  had  made  the  design  of  a  pupil  Mr. 
Pecksniffs  own  work,  and  had  brought  substantial  rewards  into  that 
gentleman's  pocket.  But  such  is  the  magic  of  genius,  which  changes 
all  it  handles  into  gold  ! 

"  When  your  mind  requires  to  be  refreshed,  by  change  of  occupation," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  Thomas  Pinch  will  instruct  you  in  the  art  of 
suiTeying  the  back  garden,  or  in  ascertaining  the  dead  level  of  the  road 
between  this  house  and  the  finger-post,  or  in  any  other  practical  and 
pleasing  pursuit.  There  are  a  cart-load  of  loose  bricks,  and  a  score  or 
two  of  old  flower-pots,  in  the  back  yard.  If  you  could  pile  them  up, 
my  dear  Martin,  into  any  form  which  would  remind  me  on  my  return — 
say  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome,  or  the  Mosque  of  St.  Sophia  at  Constantinople 
— it  would  be  at  once  improving  to  you  and  agreeable  to  my  feelings. 
And  now,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  conclusion,  "  to  drop,  for  the  present, 
our  professional  relations  and  advert  to  private  matters,  I  shall  be  glad 
to  talk  with  you  in  my  own  room,  while  I  pack  up  my  portmanteau." 

f2 


68  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Martin  attended  him ;  and  tliey  remained  in  secret  conference 
together  for  an  hour  or  more  ;  leaving  Tom  Pinch  alone.  When  the 
young  man  returned,  he  was  very  taciturn  and  dull,  in  which  state  he 
remained  all  day  ;  so  that  Tom,  after  trying  him  once  or  twice  with 
indiiferent  conversation,  felt  a  delicacy  in  obtruding  himself  upon  his 
thoughts,  and  said  no  more. 

He  would  not  have  had  leisure  to  say  much,  had  his  new  friend  been 
ever  so  loquacious :  for  first  of  all  Mr.  PecksniiF  called  him  down  to  stand 
upon  the  top  of  his  portmanteau  and  represent  ancient  statues  there, 
until  such  time  as  it  would  consent  to  be  locked ;  and  then  Miss  Charity 
called  him  to  come  and  cord  her  trunk ;  and  then  Miss  Mercy  sent  for 
him  to  come  and  mend  her  box  ;  and  then  he  wrote  the  fullest  possible 
cards  for  ail  the  luggage  ;  and  then  he  volunteered  to  carry  it  all  down- 
stairs ;  and  after  that  to  see  it  safely  carried  on  a  couple  of  barrows  to 
the  old  finger-post  at  the  end  of  the  lane  ;  and  then  to  mind  it  till  the 
coach  came  up.  In  short,  his  day's  work  would  have  been  a  pretty 
heavy  one  for  a  porter,  but  his  thorough  good-Avill  made  nothing  of  it ;  and 
as  he  sat  upon  the  luggage  at  last,  waiting  for  the  Pecksniffs,  escorted 
by  the  new  pupil,  to  come  down  the  lane,  his  heart  was  light  with  the 
hope  of  having  pleased  his  benefactor. 

"  I  was  almost  afraid,"  said  Tom,  taking  a  letter  from  his  pocket, 
and  wiping  his  face,  for  he  was  hot  with  bustling  about  though  it  was  a 
cold  day,  "  that  I  shouldn't  have  had  time  to  write  it,  and  that  would 
have  been  a  thousand  pities :  postage  from  such  a  distance  being  a  serious 
consideration,  when  one's  not  rich.  She  will  be  glad  to  see  my  hand, 
poor  girl,  and  to  hear  that  Pecksniff  is  as  kind  as  ever.  I  would  have 
asked  John  Westlock  to  call  and  see  her,  and  tell  her  all  about  me  by 
word  of  mouth,  but  I  was  afraid  he  might  speak  against  Pecksniff"  to  her, 
and  make  her  uneasy.  Besides,  they  are  particular  people  where  she  is, 
and  it  might  have  rendered  her  situation  uncomfortable  if  she  had  had 
a  visit  from  a  young  man  like  John.     Poor  Ruth  !" 

Tom  Pinch  seemed  a  little  disposed  to  be  melancholy  for  half  a  minute 
or  so,  but  he  found  comfort  very  soon,  and  pursued  his  ruminations  thus  : 

"  I'm  a  nice  man,  I  don't  think,  as  John  used  to  say  (John  was  a 
kind,  merrj'-hearted  fellow  :  I  wish  he  had  liked  Pecksniff"  better)  to  be 
feeling  Iom',  on  account  of  the  distance  between  u^,  when  I  ought  to  be 
thinking,  instead,  of  my  extraordinary  good-luck  in  having  ever  got 
here.  1  must  have  been  born  with  a  silver  spoon  in  my  mouth,  I  am 
sure,  to  have  ever  come  across  Pecksniff;  And  here  have  I  fallen  again 
into  my  usual  good-luck  with  the  new  pupil !  Such  an  affable,  gene- 
rous, free  fellow,  as  he  is,  I  never  saAv.  Why,  Ave  were  companions 
directly  !  and  he  a  relation  of  Pecksniff's  too,  and  a  clever,  dashing 
youth  who  might  cut  his  way  through  the  world  as  if  it  were  a  cheese  ! 
Here  he  comes  while  the  words  are  on  my  lips,"  said  Tom  :  "  walking 
down  the  lane  as  if  the  lane  belonged  to  him." 

In  truth,  the  new  pupil,  not  at  all  disconcerted  by  the  honour  of 
having  Miss  Mercy  Pecksniff"  on  his  arm,  or  by  the  affectionate  adieux  of 
that  young  lady,  approached  as  Mr.  Pinch  spoke,  followed  by  Miss 
Charity  and  Mr.  Pecksniff".     As  the  coach  appeared  at  the  same  moment, 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  69 

Tom  lost  no  time  in  entreating  the  gentleman  last  mentionecl,  to  under- 
take tlie  delivery  of  his  letter. 

"  Oh  ! "  said  ]\Ir.  Pecksniff,  glancing  at  the  superscription.  '•  For  your 
sister,  Thomas.  Yes,  oh  yes,  it  shall  be  delivered,  Mr.  Pinch.  Make 
your  mind  easy  upon  that  score.     She  shall  certainly  have  it,  Mr.  Pinch." 

He  made  the  promise  with  so  much  condescension  and  patronage, 
that  Tom  felt  he  had  asked  a  great  deal  (this  liad  not  occurred  to  his 
mind  before),  and  thanked  him  earnestly.  The  Miss  Pecksniffs,  accord- 
ing to  a  custom  they  had,  were  amused  beyond  description,  at  the 
mention  of  Mr.  Pinch's  sister.  Oh  the  fright  !  The  bare  idea  of  a  Miss 
Pinch  !     Good  heavens  ! 

Tom  was  greatly  pleased  to  see  them  so  merry,  for  he  took  it  as  a 
token  of  their  favour,  and  good-humoured  regard.  Therefore  he  laughed 
too  and  rubbed  his  hands,  and  wished  them  a  pleasant  journey  and  safe 
return,  and  was  quite  brisk.  Even  when  the  coach  had  rolled  away 
with  the  olive-branches  in  the  boot  and  the  family  of  doves  inside,  he 
stood  waving  his  hand  and  bowing :  so  much  gratified  by  the  unusually 
courteous  demeanour  of  the  young  ladies,  that  he  was  quite  regardless, 
for  the  moment,  of  Martin  Chuzzlewit,  who  stood  leaning  thoughtfully 
against  the  finger-post,  and  who  after  disposing  of  his  fair  charge  had 
hardly  lifted  his  eyes  from  the  ground. 

The  perfect  silence  which  ensued  upon  the  bustle  and  departure  of  the 
coach,  together  with  the  sharp  air  of  the  wintry  afternoon,  roused  them 
both  at  the  same  time.  They  turned,  as  by  mutual  consent,  and  moved 
off,  arm-in-arm. 

'•'  How  melancholy  you  are  !  "  said  Tom  ;  "  what  is  the  matter  ?" 

"  Nothing  worth  speaking  of,"  said  Martin.  "  Very  little  more  than 
was  the  matter  yesterday,  and  much  more,  I  hope,  than  will  be  the 
matter  to-morrow.     I'm  out  of  spirits.  Pinch." 

"  Well,"  cried  Tom,  "  now  do  you  know  I  am  in  capital  spirits  to- 
day, and  scarcely  ever  felt  more  disposed  to  be  good  company.  It  was  a 
very  kind  thing  in  your  predecessor,  John,  to  write  to  me,  was  it  not  ?" 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Martin  carelessly :  "  I  should  have  thought  he  would 
have  had  enough  to  do  to  enjoy  himself,  without  thinking  of  you,  Pinch." 

"  Just  what  I  felt  to  be  so  very  likely,"  Tom  rejoined  :  "  but  no,  he 
keeps  his  word,  and  says,  '  My  dear  Pinch,  I  often  think  of  you,'  and  all 
sorts  of  kind  and  considerate  things  of  that  description." 

'•  He  must  be  a  devilish  good-natured  felloAV,"  said  Martin,  somewhat 
peevishly  :  "  because  he  can't  mean  that,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  suppose  he  can,  eh  V  said  Tom,  looking  wistfully  in  his 
companion's  face.     "  He  says  so  to  please  me,  you  think  ?" 

"  Why,  is  it  likely,"  rejoined  Martin,  with  greater  earnestness,  "that 
a  young  man  newly  escaped  from  this  kennel  of  a  place,  and  fresh  to  all 
the  delights  of  being  his  own  master  in  London,  can  have  much  leisure 
or  inclination  to  think  favourably  of  anything  or  anybody  he  has  left 
behind  him  here  1     I  put  it  to  you.  Pinch,  is  it  natural  ?" 

After  a  short  reflection,  Mr.  Pinch  replied,  in  a  more  subdued  tone, 
that  to  be  sure  it  was  unreasonable  to  expect  any  such  thing,  and  that 
he  had  no  doubt  Martin  knew  best. 


70  •     LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

Of  course  I  know  best,"  Martin  observed. 

Yes,  I  feel  that,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  mildly.  "  I  said  so."  And  when 
he  had  made  this  rejoinder,  they  fell  into  a  blank  silence  again,  which 
lasted  until  they  reached  home  :  by  which  time  it  was  dark. 

Now,  Miss  Charity  Pecksniff,  in  consideration  of  the  inconvenience  of 
carrying  them  with  her  in  the  coach,  and  the  impossibility  of  preserving 
them  by  artificial  means  until  the  family's  return,  had  set  forth,  in  a 
couple  of  plates,  the  fragments  of  yesterday's  feast.  In  virtue  of  which 
liberal  arrangement,  they  had  the  happiness  to  find  awaiting  them  in  the 
parlour  two  chaotic  heaps  of  the  remains  of  last  night's  pleasure,  consisting 
of  certain  filmy  bits  of  oranges,  some  mummied  sandwiches,  various 
disrupted  masses  of  the  geological  cake,  and  several  entire  captain's 
biscuits.  That  choice  liquor  in  which  to  steep  these  dainties  might  not 
be  wanting,  the  remains  of  the  two  bottles  of  currant-wine  had  been 
poured  together  and  corked  with  a  curl-paper ;  so  that  every  material 
was  at  hand  for  making  quite  a  heavy  night  of  it. 

Martin  Chuzzlewit  beheld  these  roystering  preparations  with  infinite 
contempt,  and  stirring  the  fire  into  a  blaze  (to  the  great  destruction  of 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  coals),  sat  moodily  down  before  it,  in  the  most  comfort- 
able chair  he  could  find.  That  he  might  the  better  squeeze  himself  into 
the  small  corner  that  was  left  for  him,  Mr.  Pinch  took  up  his  position 
on  Miss  Mercy  Pecksniff's  stool,  and  setting  his  glass  down  upon  the 
hearth-rug  and  putting  his  plate  upon  his  knees,  began  to  enjoy  himself. 

If  Diogenes  coming  to  life  again  could  have  rolled  himself,  tub  and 
all,  into  Mr.  Pecksniff's  parlour,  and  could  have  seen  Tom  Pinch  as  he 
sat  on  Mercy  Pecksniff's  stool,  with  his  plate  and  glass  before  him,  he 
could  not  have  faced  it  out,  though  in  his  surliest  mood,  but  must  have 
smiled  good-temperedly.  The  perfect  and  entire  satisfaction  of  Tom ; 
his  surpassing  appreciation  of  the  husky  sandwiches,  which  crumbled 
in  his  mouth  like  sawdust ;  the  unspeakable  relish  with  which  he 
swallowed  the  thin  wine  by  drops,  and  smacked  his  lips,  as  though  it 
were  so  rich  and  generous  that  to  lose  an  atom  of  its  fruity  flavour  were 
a  sin  ;  the  look  with  which  he  paused  sometimes,  with  vhis  glass  in  his 
hand,  proposing  silent  toasts  to  himself ;  and  the  anxious  shade  that 
came  upon  his  contented  face  when  after  wandering  round  the  room, 
exulting  in  its  uninvaded  snugness,  his  glance  encountered  the  dull  brow 
of  his  companion  ;  no  cynic  in  the  world,  though  in  his  hatred  of  its  men 
a  very  griffin,  could  have  withstood  these  things  in  Thomas  Pinch. 

Some  men  would  have  slapped  him  on  the  back,  and  pledged  him  in 
a  bumper  of  the  currant-wine,  though  it  had  been  the  sharpest  vinegar — 
ay,  and  liked  its  flavour  too  ;  some  would  have  seized  him  by  his  honest 
hand,  and  thanked  him  for  the  lesson  that  his  simple  nature  taught 
them.  Some  would  have  laughed  with,  and  others  would  have  laughed 
at  him  ;  of  which  last  class  was  Martin  Chuzzlewit,  who,  unable  to 
restrain  himself  at  last,  laughed  loud  and  long. 

"  That 's  right,"  said  Tom,  nodding  approvingly.  "  Cheer  up  !  That 's 
capital  !" 

At  which  encouragement,  young  Martin  laughed  again  ;  and  said,  as 
soon  as  he  had  breath  and  gravity  enough  : 


.  ■M:'J'^^'??^a^?^/^y9Z€^^//z^^  a.  Jg^r^/ 0€YYi^'^<^i 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  71 

"  I  never  saw  sucli  a  fellow  as  you  are,  Pincb. " 

"  Didn't  you  though  1 "  said  Tom.  "  Well,  it 's  very  likely  you  do 
find  me  strange,  because  I  have  hardly  seen  anything  of  the  world,  and 
you  have  seen  a  good  deal  I  dare  say  V 

"  Pretty  well  for  ray  time  of  life,"  rejoined  Martin,  drawing  bis  chair 
still  nearer  to  the  fire,  and  spreading  bis  feet  out  on  the  fender.  "  Deuce 
take  it,  I  must  talk  openly  to  somebody.  I  '11  talk  openly  to  you, 
Pinch." 

"  Do  !  "  said  Tom.     "  I  shall  take  it  as  being  very  friendly  of  you." 

"  I'm  not  in  your  way,  am  I  ? "  inquired  Martin,  glancing  down  at  Mr. 
Pinch,  who  was  by  this  time  looking  at  the  jB.re  over  his  leg. 

"Not  at  all!"  cried  Tom. 

"  You  must  know  then,  to  make  short  of  a  long  story,"  said  Martin, 
beginning  with  a  kind  of  effort,  as  if  the  revelation  were  not  agreeable 
to  him  :  "  that  I  have  been  bred  up  from  childhood  ^nth  great  expecta- 
tions, and  have  always  been  taught  to  believe  that  I  should  be,  one  day, 
very  rich.  So  I  should  have  been,  but  for  certain  brief  reasons  which  I 
am  going  to  tell  you,  and  which  have  led  to  my  being  disinherited." 

"  By  your  father?"  enquired  Mr.  Pinch,  with  open  eyes. 

"  By  my  grandfather.  I  have  had  no  parents  these  many  years. 
Scarcely  within  my  remembrance." 

"  Neither  have  I,"  said  Tom,  touching  the  young  man's  hand  with  his 
own  and  timidly  withdrawing  it  again.     "  Dear  me  !" 

"  Why  as  to  that  you  know.  Pinch,"  pursued  the  other,  stirring  the  fire 
again,  and  speaking  in  his  rapid,  off-hand  way  :  "  it 's  all  very  right  and 
proper  to  be  fond  of  parents  when  we  have  them,  and  to  bear  them  in 
remembrance  after  they  're  dead,  if  you  have  ever  known  anything  of 
them.  But  as  I  never  did  know  anything  about  mine  personally,  you 
know,  why  I  can't  be  expected  to  be  very  sentimental  about  'em.  And 
I  am  not  :  that 's  the  truth." 

Mr.  Pinch  was  just  then  looking  though tflilly  at  the  bars.  But  on 
his  companion  pausing  in  this  place,  he  started,  and  said  ''  Oh  !  of 
course" — and  composed  himself  to  listen  again. 

"  In  a  word,"  said  Martin,  "  I  have  been  bred  and  reared  all  my  life 
by  this  grandfather  of  whom  I  have  just  spoken.  Now,  he  has  a  great 
many  good  points  ;  there  is  no  doubt  about  that ;  I  '11  not  disguise  the 
fact  from  you  ;  but  he  has  two  very  great  faults,  which  are  the  staple  of 
his  bad  side.  In  the  first  place,  he  has  the  most  confirmed  obstinacy 
of  character  you  ever  met  with  in  any  human  creature.  In  the  second, 
he  is  most  abominably  selfish." 

"  Is  he  indeed  ?  "  cried  Tom. 

"  In  those  two  respects,"  returned  the  other,  '-'there  never  was  such  a 
man.  I  have  often  heard  from  those  who  know,  that  they  have  been, 
time  out  of  mind,  the  failings  of  our  family  ;  and  I  believe  there 's  some 
truth  in  it.  But  I  can't  say  of  my  own  knowledge.  All  I  have  to  do, 
you  know,  is  to  be  very  thankful  that  they  haven't  descended  to  me,  and 
to  be  very  careful  that  I  don't  contract  'em." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Mr.  Pinch.     "  Very  proper." 

"  Well,  sir,"  resumed  Martin,  stirring  the  fire  once  more,  and  drawing 


72  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

his  chair  still  closer  to  it,  "  his  selfishness  makes  him  exacting,  you  see ; 
and  his  obstinacy  makes  him  resolute  in  his  exactions.  The  consequence 
is  that  he  has  always  exacted  a  great  deal  from  me  in  the  way  of  respect, 
and  submission,  and  self-denial  when  his  wishes  were  in  question,  and  so 
forth.  I  have  borne  a  great  deal  from  him,  because  I  have  been  under 
obligations  to  him  (if  one  can  ever  be  said  to  be  under  obligations  to 
one's  own  grandfather),  and  because  I  have  been  really  attached  to  him  ; 
but  we  have  had  a  great  many  quarrels  for  all  that,  for  I  could  not  accom- 
modate myself  to  his  ways  very  often — not  out  of  the  least  reference  to 

myself  you  understand,  but  because "  he  stammered  here,  and  was 

rather  at  a  loss. 

Mr.  Pinch  being  about  the  worst  man  in  the  world  to  help  anybody 
out  of  a  difficulty  of  this  sort,  said  nothing. 

"  Well  !  as  you  understand  me,"  resumed  Martin  quickly,  "  I 
needn't  hunt  for  the  precise  expression  I  want.  Now,  I  come  to  the  cream 
of  my  story,  and  the  occasion  of  my  being  here.     I  am  in  love,  Pinch." 

Mr.  Pinch  looked  n-p  into  his  face  with  increased  interest. 

"  I  say  I  am  in  love.  I  am  in  love  with  one  of  the  most  beautiful 
girls  the  sun  ever  shone  upon.  But  she  is  wholly  and  entirely  dependent 
upon  the  pleasure  of  my  grandfather  ;  and  if  he  were  to  know  that  she 
favoured  my  passion,  she  would  lose  her  home  and  everything  she  possesses 
in  the  world.     There  is  nothing  very  selfish  in  that  love,  I  think  V 

"  Selfish  ! "  cried  Tom.  "  You  have  acted  nobly.  To  love  her  as  I 
am  sure  you  do,  and  yet  in  consideration  for  her  state  of  dependence,  not 
even  to  disclose " 

"  What  are  you  talking  about.  Pinch  ?"  said  Martin  pettishly  :  "  don't 
make  yourself  ridiculous,  my  good  fellow  !  What  do  you  mean  by  not 
disclosing  1 " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  answered  Tom.  "  I  thought  you  meant  that,  or 
I  wouldn't  have  said  it." 

"  If  I  didn't  tell  her  I  loved  her,  where  would  be  the  -use  of  my  being 
in  love?"  said  Martin  :  "unless  to  keep  myself  in  a  perpetual  state  of 
worry  and  vexation  ?" 

"  That's  true,"  Tom  answered.  '•  Well !  I  can  guess  what  she  said 
when  you  told  her  ? "  he  added,  glancing  at  Martin's  handsome  face. 

"Why,  not  exactly.  Pinch,"  he  rejoined,  with  a  slight  frown  : 
"  because  she  has  some  girlish  notions  about  duty  and  gratitude,  and 
all  the  rest  of  it,  which  are  rather  hard  to  fathom  j  but  in  the  main 
you  are  right.     Her  heart  was  mine,  I  found." 

"Just  what  I  supposed,"  said  Tom.  "Qiiite  natural  !  "  and,  in  his 
great  satisfaction,  he  took  a  long  sip  out  of  his  wine-glass. 

"  Although  I  had  conducted  myself  from  the  first  with  the  utmost 
circumspection,"  pursued  Martin,  "  I  had  not  managed  matters  so  well 
but  that  my  grandfather,  who  is  full  of  jealousy  and  distrust,  suspected 
me  of  loving  her.  He  said  nothing  to  her,  but  straightway  attacked 
me  in  private,  and  charged  me  with  designing  to  corrupt  the  fidelity 
to  himself  (there  you  observe  his  selfishness),  of  a  young  creature  whom 
he  had  trained  and  educated  to  be  his  only  disinterested  and  faithful  com- 
panion when  he  should  have  disposed  of  me  in  marriage  to  his  heart's 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT,  73 

content.  Upon  that,  I  took  fire  immediately,  and  told  him  that  with  his 
good  leave  I  would  dispose  of  myself  in  marriage,  and  would  rather  not  be 
knocked  down  by  him  or  any  other  auctioneer  to  any  bidder  whomsoever." 

Mr.  Pinch  opened  his  eyes  wider  and  looked  at  the  fire  harder  than 
he  had  done  yet. 

"  You  may  be  sure,"  said  Martin,  "  that  this  nettled  him,  and  that  he 
began  to  be  the  very  reverse  of  complimentary  to  myself.  Interview 
succeeded  interview  ;  words  engendered  words,  as  they  always  do  ;  and 
the  upshot  of  it  was,  that  I  was  to  renounce  her,  or  be  renounced  by 
him.  Now  you  must  bear  in  mind,  Pinch,  that  I  am  not  only  despe- 
rately fond  of  her  (for  though  she  is  poor,  her  beauty  and  intellect  would 
reflect  great  credit  on  anybody,  I  don't  care  of  what  pretensions,  who 
might  become  her  husband),  but  that  a  chief  ingredient  in  my  compo- 
sition is  a  most  determined — " 

"  Obstinacy,"  suggested  Tom  in  perfect  good  faith.  But  the  suggestion 
was  not  so  well  received  as  he  had  expected ;  for  the  young  man  imme- 
diately rejoined,  with  some  irritation, 

"  What  a  fellow  you  are,  Pinch  ! " 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Tom,  "  I  thought  you  wanted  a  word." 

"I  didn't  want  that  word,"  he  rejoined.  "  I  told  you  obstinacy  was 
no  part  of  my  character,  did  I  not  ?  I  was  going  to  say,  if  you  had 
given  me  leave,  that  a  chief  ingredient  in  my  composition  is  a  most 
determined  firmness." 

"  Oh  !"  cried  Tom,  screwing  up  his  mouth,  and  nodding.  "  Yes,  yes  ; 
I  see  !" 

"  And  being  firm,"  pursued  Martin,  "  of  course  I  was  not  going  to 
yield  to  him,  or  give  way  by  so  much  as  tlie  thousandth  part  of  an  inch." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Tom. 

"On  the  contrary;  the  more  he  urged,  the  more  I  was  determined 
to  oppose  him." 

"To  be  sure!"  said  Tom. 

"  Very  well,"  rejoined  Martin,  throwing  himself  back  in  his  chair, 
with  a  careless  wave  of  both  hands,  as  if  the  subject  were  quite  settled, 
and  nothing  more  could  be  said  about  it — "  There  is  an  end  of  the 
matter,  and  here  am  I  !" 

Mr.  Pinch  sat  staring  at  the  fire  for  some  minutes  with  a  puzzled  look, 
such  as  he  might  have  assumed  if  some  uncommonly  difficult  conundrum 
had  been  proposed,  which  he  found  it  impossible  to  guess.  At  length 
he  said  : 

"  Pecksniff,  of  course,  you  had  known  before  V 

"  Only  by  name.  No,  I  had  never  seen  him,  for  my  grandfather  kept 
not  only  himself  but  me,  aloof  from  all  his  relations.  But  our  separation 
took  place  in  a  town  in  the  adjoining  county.  From  that  place  I  came 
to  Salisbury,  and  there  I  saw  Pecksniii's  advertisement,  which  I  answered, 
having  always  had  some  natural  taste,  I  believe,  in  the  matters  to  which 
it  referred,  and  thinking  it  might  suit  me.  As  soon  as  I  found  it  to  be  his, 
I  was  doubly  bent  on  coming  to  him  if  possible,  on  account  of  his  being — ' 

"  Such  an  excellent  man,"  interposed  Tom,  rubbing  his  hands  :  "  so 
he  is.     You  were  quite  right." 


74  LIFE    AND    ADYENTURES    OF 

"  Why  not  so  much  on  that  account,  if  the  truth  must  be  spoken," 
returned  Martin,  "  as  because  mj  grandfather  has  an  inveterate  dislike 
to  him,  and  after  the  old  man's  arbitrary  treatment  of  me  I  had  a 
natural  desire  to  run  as  directly  counter  to  all  his  opinions  as  I  could. 
Well !  as  I  said  before,  here  I  am.  My  engagement  with  the  young 
lady  I  have  been  telling  you  about,  is  likely  to  be  a  tolerably  long  one  ; 
for  neither  her  prospects,  nor  mine,  are  very  bright ;  and  of  course  I 
shall  not  think  of  marrying  until  I  am  well  able  to  do  so.  It  would 
never  do,  you  know,  for  me  to  be  plunging  myself  into  poverty  and 
shabbiness  and  love  in  one  room  up  three  pair  of  stairs,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing." 

"  To  say  nothing  of  her,"  remarked  Tom  Pinch,  in  a  low  voice. 

"Exactly  so,"  rejoined  Martin,  rising  to  warm  his  back,  and  leaning 
against  the  chimney-piece.  "  To  say  nothing  of  her.  At  the  same  time, 
of  course  it's  not  very  hard  upon  her  to  be  obliged  to  yield  to  the 
necessity  of  the  case  :  first,  because  she  loves  me  very  much  ;  and 
secondly,  because  I  have  sacrificed  a  great  deal  on  her  account,  and 
might  have  done  much  better,  you  know." 

It  was  a  very  long  time  before  Tom  said  "  Certainly ;"  so  long,  that 
he  might  have  taken  a  nap  in  the  interval,  but  he  did  say  it  at  last. 

"  Now,  there  is  one  odd  coincidence  connected  with  this  love-story," 
said  Martin,  "  which  brings  it  to  an  end.  You  remember  what  you 
told  me  last  night  as  we  were  coming  here,  about  your  pretty  visitor  in 
the  church?" 

"  Surely  I  do,"  said  Tom,  rising  from  his  stool,  and  seating  himself 
in  the  chair  from  which  the  other  had  lately  risen,  that  he  might  see 
his  face.     "  Undoubtedly." 

"  That  was  she." 

"I  knew  what  you  were  going  to  say,"  cried  Tom,  looking  fixedly 
at  him,  and  speaking  very  softly.     "  You  don't  tell  me  so  1 " 

"  That  was  she,"  repeated  the  young  man.  "  After  what  I  have 
heard  from  Pecksniff",  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  came  and  went  with  my 
grandfather. — Don't  you  drink  too  much  of  that  sour  wine,  or  you'll 
have  a  fit  of  some  sort.  Pinch,  I  see." 

"  It  is  not  very  wholesome,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Tom,  setting  down  the 
empty  glass  he  had  for  some  time  held.     "  So  that  was  she,  was  it  ? " 

Martin  nodded  assent  :  and  adding,  with  a  restless  impatience,  that 
if  he  had  been  a  few  days  earlier  he  would  have  seen  her  ;  and  that 
now  she  might  be,  for  anything  he  knew,  hundreds  of  miles  away  ; 
threw  himself,  after  a  few  turns  across  the  room,  into  a  chair,  and  chafed 
like  a  spoilt  child. 

Tom  Pinch's  heart  was  very  tender,  and  he  could  not  bear  to  see  the 
most  indifferent  person  in  distress  ;  still  less  one  who  had  awakened  an 
interest  in  him,  and  who  regarded  him  (either  in  fact,  or  as  he  supposed) 
with  kindness,  and  in  a  spirit  of  lenient  construction.  Whatever  his 
own  thoughts  had  been  a  few  moments  before — and  to  judge  from  his 
face  they  must  have  been  pretty  serious — he  dismissed  them  instantly, 
and  gave  his  young  friend  the  best  counsel  and  comfort  that  occurred 
to  him. 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  75 

"  All  will  be  well  in  time/'  said  Tom,  "  I  have  no  doubt ;  and  some 
trial  and  adversity  just  now  will  only  serve  to  make  you  more  attached 
to  each  other  in  better  days.  I  have  always  read  that  the  truth  is  so, 
and  I  have  a  feeling  within  me,  which  tells  me  how  natural  and  right  it 
is  that  it  should  be.  What  never  ran  smooth  yet,"  said  Tom,  with  a 
smile,  which  despite  the  homeliness  of  his  face,  was  pleasanter  to  see 
than  many  a  proud  beauty's  brightest  glance  :  "  what  never  ran  smooth 
jet,  can  hardly  be  expected  to  change  its  character  for  us  ;  so  we  must 
take  it  as  we  find  it,  and  fashion  it  into  the  very  best  shape  we  can,  by 
patience  and  good-humour.  I  have  no  power  at  all ;  I  needn't  tell  you 
that ;  but  I  have  an  excellent  will ;  and  if  I  could  ever  be  of  use  to  you, 
in  any  way  whatever,  how  very  glad  I  should  be  !" 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Martin,  shaking  his  hand.  "  You  're  a  good 
fellow,  upon  my  word,  and  speak  very  kindly.  Of  course,  you  know," 
he  added,  after  a  moment's  pause,  as  he  drew  his  chair  towards  the  fire 
again,  "  I  should  not  hesitate  to  avail  myself  of  your  services  if  you 
could  help  me  at  all ;  but  mercy  on  us  ! " — Here  he  rumpled  his  hair 
impatiently  with  his  hand,  and  looked  at  Tom  as  if  he  took  it  rather  ill 
that  he  was  not  somebody  else — "  You  might  as  well  be  a  toasting-fork 
or  a  frying-pan.  Pinch,  for  any  help  you  can  render  me." 

^'  Except  in  the  inclination,"  said  Tom,  gently. 

"  Oh  !  to  be  sure.  I  meant  that,  of  course.  If  inclination  went  for 
anything,  I  shouldn't  want  help.  I  tell  you  what  you  may  do,  though, 
if  you  will — at  the  present  moment  too." 

"  What  is  that  V  demanded  Tom. 

"  Read  to  me." 

"  I  shall  be  delighted,"  cried  Tom,  catching  up  the  candle,  with 
enthusiasm.  "  Excuse  my  lea^dng  you  in  the  dark  a  moment,  and  I'll 
fetch  a  book  directly.     What  will  you  like  1  Shakspeare  ?" 

"  Ay  !"  replied  his  friend,  yawning  and  stretching  himself.  "  He'll 
do.  I  am  tired  with  the  bustle  of  to-day,  and  the  novelty  of  everything 
about  me ;  and  in  such  a  case,  there 's  no  greater  luxury  in  the  world,  I 
think,  than  being  read  to  sleep.  You  won't  mind  my  going  to  sleep, 
if  I  can?" 

"Not  at  all!"  cried  Tom. 

"  Then  begin  as  soon  as  you  like.  You  needn't  leave  off  when  you 
see  me  getting  drowsy  (unless  you  feel  tired),  for  it 's  pleasant  to  wake 
gradually  to  the  sounds  again.     Did  you  ever  try  that?" 

"  No,  I  never  tried  that,"  said  Tom. 

"  Well !  You  can,  you  know,  one  of  these  days  when  we  're  both  in 
the  right  humour.     Don't  mind  leaving  me  in  the  dark.     Look  sharp  !" 

Mr.  Pinch  lost  no  time  in  moving  away  ;  and  in  a  minute  or  two 
returned  with  one  of  the  precious  volumes  from  the  shelf  beside  his  bed. 
Martin  had  in  the  meantime  made  himself  as  comfortable  as  circum- 
stances would  permit,  by  constructing  before  the  fire  a  temporary  sofa 
of  three  chairs  with  Mercy's  stool  for  a  pillow,  and  lying  down  at  full- 
length  upon  it. 

"  Don 't  be  too  loud,  please,"  he  said  to  Pinch. 

«  No,  no,"  said  Tom. 


76  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  You  're  sure  you  're  not  cold  ?" 

"Not  at  all!"  cried  Tom. 

"  I  am  quite  ready  then." 

Mr.  Pinch  accordingly,  after  turning  over  the  leaves  of  his  book  with 
as  much  care  as  if  they  were  living  and  highly  cherished  creatures,  made 
his  own  selection,  and  began  to  read.  Before  he  had  completed  fifty 
lines,  his  friend  was  snoring. 

"  Poor  fellow  ! "  said  Tom,  softly,  as  he  stretched  out  his  head  to  peep 
at  him  over  the  backs  of  the  chairs.  "  He  is  very  young  to  have  so 
much  trouble.  How  trustful  and  generous  in  him  to  bestow  all  this 
confidence  in  me.     And  that  was  she,  was  it?" 

But  suddenly  remembering  their  compact,  he  took  up  the  poem  at  the 
place  where  he  had  left  off,  and  went  on  reading ;  always  forgetting  to  snuiF 
the  candle,  until  its  wick  looked  like  a  mushroom.  He  gradually  became 
so  much  interested,  that  he  quite  forgot  to  replenish  the  fire ;  and  was 
only  reminded  of  his  neglect  by  Martin  Chuzzlewit  starting  up  after  the 
lapse  of  an  hour  or  so,  and  crying  with  a  shiver  : 

"  Why,  it 's  nearly  out,  I  declare  !  No  wonder  I  dreamed  of  being 
frozen.     Do  call  for  some  coals.     What  a  fellow  you  are,  Pinch  ! " 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IN  WHICH    MR.  CHEVY  SLYME    ASSERTS    THE  INDEPENDENCE   OF   HIS  SPIRIT  j 
AND    THE  BLUE    DRAGON    LOSES    A    LIMB. 

Martin  began  to  work  at  the  grammar-school  next  morning,  with  so 
much  vigour  and  expedition,  that  Mr.  Pinch  had  new  reason  to  do  homage 
to  the  natural  endowments  of  that  young  gentleman,  and  to  acknowledge 
his  infinite  superiority  to  himself  The  new  pupil  received  Tom's  com- 
pliments very  graciously ;  and  having  by  this  time  conceived  a  real  regard 
for  him,  in  his  own  peculiar  -way,  predicted  that  they  would  always  be  the 
very  best  of  friends,  and  that  neither  of  them,  he  was  certain  (but  particu- 
larly Tom),  would  ever  have  reason  to  regret  the  day  on  which  they  became 
acquainted.  Mr.  Pinch  was  delighted  to  hear  him  say  this,  and  felt  so 
much  flattered  by  his  kind  assurances  of  friendship  and  protection,  that  he 
was  at  a  loss  how  to  express  the  pleasure  they  afibrded  him.  And  indeed 
it  may  be  observed  of  this  friendship,  such  as  it  was,  that  it  had  within 
it  more  likely  materials  of  endurance  than  many  a  sworn  brotherhood 
that  has  been  rich  in  promise ;  for  so  long  as  the  one  party  found  a 
pleasure  in  patronising,  and  the  other  in  being  patronised  (which  was  in 
the  very  essence  of  their  respective  characters),  it  was  of  all  possible 
events  among  the  least  probable,  that  the  twin  demons.  Envy  and  Pride, 
would  ever  arise  between  them.  So  in  very  many  cases  of  friendship, 
or  what  passes  for  it,  the  old  axiom  is  reversed,  and  like  clings  to  unlike 
more  than  to  like. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  77 

Tliey  were  botli  very  busy  on  the  afternoon  succeeding  the  family's 
departure — Martin  with  the  grammar-school,  and  Tom  in  balancing 
certain  receipts  of  rents,  and  deducting  Mr.  PecksnitFs  commission 
from  the  same  ;  in  which  abstruse  employment  he  was  much  distracted 
by  a  habit  his  new  friend  had  of  whistling  aloud,  while  he  was  drawing — 
when  they  were  not  a  little  startled  by  the  unexpected  obtrusion  into 
that  sanctuary  of  genius,  of  a  human  head,  which  although  a  shaggy 
and  somewhat  alarming  head,  in  appearance,  smiled  affably  upon  them 
from  the  doorway,  in  a  manner  that  was  at  once  waggish,  conciliatory, 
and  expressive  of  approbation. 

"I  am  not  industrious  myself,  gents  both,"  said  the  head,  "but  I 
know  how  to  appreciate  that  quality  in  others.  I  wish  I  may  turn  gray 
and  ugly,  if  it  isn't,  in  my  opinion,  next  to  genius,  one  of  the  very 
charmingest  c(ualities  of  the  human  mind.  Upon  my  soul,  I  am  grateful 
to  my  friend  Pecksniff  for  helping  me  to  the  contemplation  of  such  a 
delicious  picture  as  you  present.  You  remind  me  of  Whittington,  after- 
wards thrice  Lord  Mayor  of  London.  I  give  you  my  unsullied  word  of 
honour,  that  you  very  strongly  remind  me  of  that  historical  character. 
You  are  a  pair  of  Whittingtons,  gents,  without  the  cat ;  which  is  a  most 
agreeable  and  blessed  exception  to  me,  for  I  am  not  attached  to  the 
feline  species.     My  name  is  Tigg;  how  do  you  do  V 

Martin  looked  to  Mr.  Pinch  for  an  explanation  ;  and  Tom,  who  had 
never  in  his  life  set  eyes  on  Mr.  Tigg  before,  looked  to  that  gentleman 
himself 

"Chevy  Slyme?"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  interrogatively,  and  kissing  his  left 
hand  in  token  of  friendship.  "  You  will  understand  me  when  I  say 
that  I  am  the  accredited  agent  of  Chevy  Slyme — that  I  am  the  ambas- 
sador from  the  court  of  Chiv  1  Ha  ha  !" 

"Heyday!"  asked  Martin,  starting  at  the  mention  of  a  name  he 
knew.     "  Pray,  what  does  he  want  with  me  1" 

'■'  If  your  name  is  Pinch  " — Mr.  Tigg  began. 

"  It  is  not,"  said  Martin,  checking  himself     "'  That  is  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  If  that  is  Mr.  Pinch,"  cried  Tigg,  kissing  his  hand  again,  and 
beginning  to  follow  his  head  into  the  room,  "  he  will  permit  me  to  say 
that  I  greatly  esteem  and  respect  his  character,  which  has  been  most 
highly  commended  to  me  by  my  friend  Pecksniff ;  and  that  I  deeply 
appreciate  his  talent  for  the  organ,  notwithstanding  that  I  do  not,  if  I 
may  use  the  expression,  grind,  myself  If  that  is  Mr,  Pinch,  I  will 
venture  to  express  a  hope  that  I  see  him  well,  and  that  he  is  suffering 
no  inconvenience  from  the  easterly  wdnd  ?" 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Tom.     "  I  am  very  well." 

"'  That  is  a  comfort,"  Mr.  Tigg  rejoined.  "  Then,"  he  added,  shielding 
his  lips  with  the  palm  of  his  hand,  and  applying  them  close  to  Mr. 
Pinch's  ear,  "  I  have  come  for  the  letter." 

"  For  the  letter  ]"  said  Tom,  aloud.     "  What  letter  % " 

"  The  letter,"  whispered  Tigg,  in  the  same  cautious  manner  as  before, 
"  which  my  friend  Pecksniff  addressed  to  Chevy  Slyme,  Esquire,  and  left 
with  you," 

"  lie  didn't  leave  any  letter  with  me,"  said  Tom. 


78  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES   OP 

"  Hush  ["  cried  the  other.  "  It's  all  the  same  thing,  though  not  so 
delicately  done  by  my  friend  Pecksniff  as  I  could  have  wished — the 
money." 

"  The  money!"  cried  Tom,  quite  scared. 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  Mr.  Tigg.  With  which  he  rapped  Tom  twice  or 
thrice  upon  the  breast  and  nodded  several  times,  as  though  he  would 
say,  that  he  saw  they  understood  each  other  ;  that  it  was  unnecessary  to 
mention  the  circumstance  before  a  third  person ;  and  that  he  would  take 
it  as  a  particular  favour  if  Tom  would  slip  the  amount  into  his  hand, 
as  quietly  as  possible. 

Mr.  Pinch,  however,  was  so  very  much  astounded  by  this  (to  him) 
inexplicable  deportment,  that  he  at  once  openly  declared  there  must  be 
some  mistake,  and  that  he  had  been  entrusted  with  no  commission 
whatever  having  any  reference  to  Mr.  Tigg  or  to  his  friend  either. — 
Mr.  Tigg  received  this  declaration  with  a  grave  request  that  Mr.  Pinch 
would  have  the  goodness  to  make  it  again ;  and  on  Tom's  repeating  it  in 
a  still  more  emphatic  and  unmistakeable  manner,  checked  it  off,  sentence 
for  sentence,  by  nodding  his  head  solemnly  at  the  end  of  each.  When 
it  had  come  to  a  close  for  the  second  time,  Mr.  Tigg  sat  himself  down  in 
a  chair  and  addressed  the  young  men  as  follows  : 

"  Then  I  tell  you  what  it  is,  gents  both.  There  is  at  this  present 
moment  in  this  very  place,  a  perfect  constellation  of  talent  and  genius, 
who  is  involved,  through  what  I  cannot  but  designate  as  the  culpable 
negligence  of  my  friend  Pecksniff,  in  a  situation  as  tremendous,  perhaps, 
as  the  social  intercourse  of  the  nineteenth  century  will  readily  admit  of. 
There  is  actually  at  this  instant,  at  the  Blue  Dragon  in  this  village — an 
alehouse  observe  ;  a  common,  paltry,  low-minded,  clodhopping  pipe- 
smoking  alehouse — an  individual,  of  whom  it  may  be  said,  in  the 
language  of  the  Poet,  that  nobody  but  himself  can  in  any  way  come  up 
to  him  ;  who  is  detained  there  for  his  bill.  Ha  !  ha  1  For  his  bill. 
I  repeat  it — for  his  bill.  Now"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  we  have  heard  of  Fox's 
Book  of  Martyrs,  I  believe,  and  we  have  heard  of  the  Court  of  Requests, 
and  the  Star  Chamber  ;  but  I  fear  the  contradiction  of  no  man  alive 
or  dead,  when  I  assert  that  my  friend  Chevy  Slyme  being  held  in 
pawn  for  a  bill,  beats  any  amount  of  cock-fighting  with  which  I  am 
acquainted." 

Martin  and  Mr.  Pinch  looked,  first  at  each  other,  and  afterwards  at 
Mr.  Tigg,  who  with  his  arms  folded  on  his  breast  surveyed  them,  half  in 
despondency  and  half  in  bitterness. 

"  Don't  mistake  me,  gents  both,"  he  said,  stretching  forth  his  right 
hand.  "  If  it  had  been  for  anything  but  a  bill,  I  could  have  borne  it, 
and  could  still  have  looked  upon  mankind  with  some  feeling  of  respect  : 
but  when  such  a  man  as  my  friend  Slyme  is  detained  for  a  score — a  thing 
in  itself  essentially  mean  ;  a  low  performance  on  a  slate,  or  possibly 
chalked  upon  the  back  of  a  door — I  do  feel  that  there  is  a  screw  of  such 
magnitude  loose  somewhere,  that  the  whole  framework  of  society  is 
shaken,  and  the  very  first  principles  of  things  can  no  longer  be  trusted. 
In  short,  gents  both,"  said  Mr.  Tigg  with  a  passionate  flourish  of  his 
hands  and  head,  "  when  a  man  like  Slyme  is  detained  for  such  a  thing 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT*  79 

as  a  bill,  I  reject  the  superstitions  of  ages,  and  believe  nothing,     I 
don't  even  believe  that  I  dont  believe,  curse  me  if  I  do  !" 

"  I  am  very  sorry  I  am  sure,"  said  Tom  after  a  pause,  "  but  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff said  nothing  to  me  about  it,  and  I  couldn't  act  without  his  instruc- 
tions. Wouldn't  it  be  better,  sir,  if  you  were  to  go  to — to  wherever  you. 
came  from — yourselfj  and  remit  the  money  to  your  friend  ? " 

"  How  can  that  be  done,  when  I  am  detained  also  1 "  said  Mr.  Tigg  ; 
"and  when  moreover,  owing  to  the  astounding,  and  I  must  add,  guilty 
negligence  of  my  friend  Pecksniff,  I  have  no  money  for  coach-hire  V 

Tom  thought  of  reminding  the  gentleman  (who,  no  doubt,  in  his 
agitation  had  forgotten  it)  that  there  was  a  post-office  in  the  land ;  and 
that  possibly  if  he  wrote  to  some  friend  or  agent  for  a  remittance  it 
might  not  be  lost  upon  the  road  ;  or  at  all  events  that  the  chance, 
however  desperate,  was  worth  trusting  to.  But  as  his  good-nature 
presently  suggested  to  him  certain  reasons  for  abstaining  from  this  hint, 
he  paused  again,  and  then  asked  : 

"  Did  you  say.  Sir,  that  you  were  detained  also  V 

"  Come  here,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  rising.  "  You  have  no  objection  to  mj 
opening  this  window  for  a  moment  V 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Tom. 

"Very  good,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  lifting  the  sash.  "  You  see  a  fellow 
down  there  in  a  red  neckcloth  and  no  waistcoat  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  cried  Tom.     "  That 's  Mark  Tapley." 

"Mark  Tapley  is  it?"  said  the  gentleman.  "Then  Mark  Tapley 
had  not  only  the  great  politeness  to  follow  me  to  this  house,  but  is  waiting 
now,  to  see  me  home  again.  And  for  that  act  of  attention.  Sir,"  added 
Mr.  Tigg,  stroking  his  moustache,  "  I  can  tell  you,  that  Mark  Tapley 
had  better  in  his  infancy  have  been  fed  to  suffocation  by  Mrs.  Tapley, 
than  preserved  to  this  time." 

Mr.  Pinch  was  not  so  dismayed  by  this  terrible  threat,  but  that  he 
had  voice  enough  to  call  to  Mark  to  come  in,  and  up  stairs  ;  a  summons 
which  he  so  speedily  obeyed,  that  almost  as  soon  as  Tom  and  Mr.  Tigg 
had  drawn  in  their  heads  and  closed  the  window  again,  he  the  denounced 
appeared  before  them. 

"  Come  here,  Mark  !"  said  Mr.  Pinch.  "Good  gracious  me  !  what 's 
the  matter  between  Mrs.  Lupin  and  this  gentleman  ?" 

"What  gentleman.  Sir?"  said  Mark.  "I  don't  see  no  gentleman 
here.  Sir,  excepting  you  and  the  new  gentleman,"  to  whom  he  made  a 
rough  kind  of  bow — "and  there's  nothing  wrong  between  Mrs.  Lupin  and 
either  of  you,  Mr.  Pinch,  I  am  sure." 

"Nonsense,  Mark  !"  cried  Tom.     "You  see  Mr. — " 

"  Tigg,"  interposed  that  gentleman.  "  Wait  a  bit.  I  shall  crush  him 
soon.     All  in  good  time  !" 

"  Oh  him .'"  rejoined  Mark,  with  an  air  of  careless  defiance.  "  Yes,  I 
see  Mm.  I  could  see  him  a  little  better,  if  he  'd  shave  himself,  and  get 
his  hair  cut." 

Mr.  Tigg  shook  his  head  with  a  ferocious  look,  and  smote  himself 
once  upon  the  breast. 

"  It 's  no  use/'   said   Mark.     "  If  you  knock   ever  so  much  in  that 


80  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

quarter,  you  '11  get  no  answer.  I  know  better.  There  's  nothing  there 
but  padding  :  and  a  greasy  sort  it  is." 

"  Nay,  Mark,"  urged  Mr.  Pinch,  interposing  to  prevent  hostilities, 
"  tell  me  what  I  ask  you.     You're  not  out  of  temper,  I  hope  ?" 

"  Out  of  temper,  Sir  ! "  cried  Mark,  with  a  grin  ;  "  why  no.  Sir. 
There's  a  little  credit — not  much — in  being  jolly,  when  such  fellows 
as  him  is  a  going  about  like  roaring  lions  :  if  there  is  any  breed  of 
lions,  at  least,  as  is  all  roar  and  mane.  What  is  there  between  him 
and  Mrs.  Lupin,  Sir  1  Why,  there 's  a  score  between  him  and  Mrs. 
Lupin.  And  I  think  Mrs.  Lupin  lets  him  and  his  friend  off  very  easy  in 
not  charging  'em  double  prices  for  being  a  disgrace  to  the  Dragon. 
That 's  my  opinion.  I  wouldn't  have  any  such  Peter  the  Wild  Boy  as 
him  in  my  house.  Sir,  not  if  I  was  paid  race-week  prices  for  it.  He  's 
enough  to  turn  the  very  beer  in  the  casks  sour,  with  his  looks  :  he  is  ! 
So  he  would,  if  it  had  judgment  enough." 

"  You  're  not  answering  my  question,  you  know,  Mark,"  observed 
Mr.  Pinch. 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  I  don't  know  as  there 's  much  to  answer 
further  than  that.  Him  and  his  friend  goes  and  stops  at  the  Moon  and 
Stars  till  they  've  run  a  bill  there  ;  and  then  comes  and  stops  with  us 
and  does  the  same.  The  running  of  bills  is  common  enough,  Mr.  Pinch ; 
it  an't  that  as  we  object  to  ;  it 's  the  ways  of  this  chap.  Nothing's  good 
enough  for  him  ;  all  the  women  is  dying  for  him  he  thinks,  and  is  over- 
paid if  he  winks  at  'em  ;  and  all  the  men  was  made  to  be  ordered  about 
by  him.  This  not  being  aggravation  enough,  he  says  this  morning  to 
me,  in  his  usual  captivating  way,   '  We  're  going  to  night,  my  man.' 

*  Are  you,  sir  V  says  I.     '  Perhaps  y<5u  'd  like  the  bill  got  ready,  sir  1 ' 

*  Oh  no,  my  man,'  he  says  ;  '  you  needn't  mind  that.  I'll  give  PecksniiF 
orders  to  see  to  that.'     In  reply  to  which,  the  Dragon  makes  answer, 

*  Thankee,  sir,  you  're  very  kind  to  honour  us  so  far,  but  as  we  don't  know 
any  particular  good  of  you,  and  you  don't  travel  with  luggage,  and  Mr. 
Pecksniff  an't  at  home  (which  perhaps  you  mayn't  happen  to  be  avr^are 
of,  sir),  we  should  prefer  something  more  satisfactory ;'  and  that's  where 
the  matter  stands.  And  I  ask,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  pointing,  in  conclu- 
sion, to  Mr.  Tigg,  with  his  hat,  "  any  lady  or  gentleman,  possessing 
ordinary  strength  of  mind,  to  say,  whether  he's  a  disagreeable-looking 
chap  or  not  !  " 

"  Let  me  inquire,"  said  Martin,  interposing  between  this  candid  speech 
and  the  delivery  of  some  blighting  anathema  by  Mr.  Tigg,  "  what  the 
amount  of  this  debt  may  be." 

"  In  point  of  money,  Sir,  very  little,"  answered  Mark.  "  Only  just 
turned  of  three  pounds.     But  it  an't  that ;  it's  the " 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  told  us  so  before,"  said  Martin.  "  Pinch,  a  word 
with  you." 

"  What  is  it  V  asked  Tom,  retiring  with  him  to  a  corner  of  the  room. 

"  Why,  simply — I  am  ashamed  to  say — that  this  Mr.  Slyme  is  a 
relation  of  mine,  of  whom  I  never  heard  anything  pleasant  ;  and  that  I 
don't  want  him  here  just  now,  and  think  he  would  be  cheaply  got  rid  of, 
perhaps,  for  three  or  four  pounds.  You  haven't  enough  money  to  pay 
this  bill,  I  suppose  1 " 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  81 

Tom  shook  his  head  to  an  extent  that  left  no  doubt  of  his  entire 
sincerity. 

"  That 's  unfortunate,  for  I  am  poor  too ;  and  in  case  you  had  had  it, 
I  'd  have  borrowed  it  of  you.  But  if  we  told  this  landlady  we  would 
see  her  paid,  I  suppose  that  would  answer  the  same  purpose  V 

"  Oh  dear,  yes  1"  said  Tom.     "  She  knows  me,  bless  you  !" 

"  Then,  let  us  go  down  at  once  and  tell  her  so  ;  for  the  sooner  we  are 
rid  of  their  company  the  better.  As  you  have  conducted  the  conversa- 
tion with  this  gentleman  hitherto,  perhaps  you'll  tell  him  what  we 
purpose  doing  ;  will  you  ?" 

Mr.  Pinch  complying,  at  once  imparted  the  intelligence  to  Mr.  Tigg, 
who  shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand  in  return,  assuring  him  that  his 
faith  in  anything  and  everything  was  again  restored.  It  was  not  so 
much,  he  said,  for  the  temporary  relief  of  this  assistance  that  he  prized 
it,  as  for  its  vindication  of  the  high  principle  that  Nature's  Nobs  felt 
with  Nature's  Nobs,  and  true  greatness  of  soul  sympathised  with  true 
greatness  of  soul,  all  the  world  over.  It  proved  to  him,  he  said,  that 
like  him  they  admired  genius,  even  when  it  was  coupled  with  the  alloy 
occasionally  visible  in  the  metal  of  Ms  friend  Slyme  ;  and  on  behalf  of  that 
friend,  he  thanked  them ;  as  warmly  and  heartily  as  if  the  cause  were 
his  own.  Being  cut  short  in  these  speeches  by  a  general  move  towards 
tlie  stairs,  he  took  possession  at  the  street-door  of  the  lapel  of  Mr. 
Pinch's  coat,  as  a  security  against  further  interruption  ;  and  entertained 
that  gentleman  with  some  highly  improving'discourse  until  they  reached  the 
Dragon,  whither  they  were  closely  followed  by  Mark  and  the  new  pupil. 

The  rosy  hostess  scarcely  needed  Mr.  Pinch's  vrord  as  a  preliminary  to 
the  release  of  her  two  visitors,  of  whom  she  was  glad  to  be  rid  on  any 
terms  :  indeed,  their  brief  detention  had  originated  mainly  with  Mr. 
Tapley,  who  entertained  a  constitutional  dislike  to  gentlemen  out-at-elbows 
who  flourished  on  false  pretences ;  and  had  conceived  a  particular 
aversion  to  Mr.  Tigg  and  his  friend,  as  choice  specimens  of  the  species. 
The  business  in  hand  thus  easily  settled,  Mr.  Pinch  and  Martin  would 
have  withdrawn  immediately,  but  for  the  urgent  entreaties  of  Mr.  Tigg 
that  they  would  allow  him  the  honour  of  presenting  them  to  his  friend 
Slyme,  which  were  so  very  difficult  of  resistance  that,  yielding  partly  to 
these  persuasions  and  partly  to  their  own  curiosity,  they  suffered  them- 
selves to  be  ushered  into  the  presence  of  that  distinguished  gentleman. 

He  was  brooding  over  the  remains  of  yesterday's  decanter  of  brandy, 
and  was  engaged  in  the  thoughtful  occupation  of  making  a  chain  of 
rings  on  the  top  of  the  table  with  the  wet  foot  of  his  drinking-glass. 
Wretched  and  forlorn  as  he  looked,  Mr.  Slyme  had  once  been,  in  his  way, 
the  choicest  of  swaggerers :  putting  forth  his  pretensions,  boldly,  as  a  man 
of  infinite  taste  and  most  undoubted  promise.  The  stock-in-trade  requi- 
site to  set  up  an  amateur  in  this  department  of  business,  is  very  slight 
and  easily  got  together  ;  a  trick  of  the  nose  and  a  curl  of  the  lip  suffi- 
cient to  compound  a  tolerable  sneer,  being  ample  provision  for  any 
exigency.  But,  in  an  evil  hour,  this  off-shoot  of  the  Chuzzlewit  trunk, 
being  lazy,  and  ill  qualified  for  any  regular  pursuit,  and  having  dissipated 
such  means  as  he  ever  possessed,  had  formally  established  himself  as  a 

G 


S2  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

professor  of  Taste  for  a  livelihood  ;  and  finding,  too  late,  tliat  something 
more  than  his  old  amount  of  qualifications  was  necessary  to  sustain  him 
in  this  calling,  had  quickly  fallen  to  his  present  level,  where  he  retained 
nothing  of  his  old  self  but  his  boastfulness  and  his  bile,  and  seemed  to 
have  no  existence  separate  or  apart  from  his  friend  Tigg.  And  now  so 
abject  and  so  pitiful  was  he — at  once  so  maudlin,  insolent,  beggarly,  and 
proud — that  even  his  friend  and  parasite,  standing  erect  beside  him, 
swelled  into  a  Man  by  contrast. 

"Chiv,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  clapping  him  on  the  back,  "my  friend 
Pecksniff"  not  being  at  home,  I  have  arranged  our  trifling  piece  of 
business  with  Mr.  Pinch  and  friend.  Mr.  Pinch  and  friend,  Mr.  Chevy 
Slyme — Chiv,  Mr.  Pinch  and  friend  1" 

"  These  are  agreeable  circumstances  in  which  to  be  introduced  to 
strangers,"  said  Chevy  Slyme,  turning  his  bloodshot  eyes  towards  Tom 
Pinch.     "  I  am  the  most  miserable  man  in  the  world,  I  believe  !" 

Tom  begged  he  wouldn't  mention  it ;  and  finding  him  in  this  con- 
dition, retired,  after  an  awkward  pause,  followed  by  Martin.  But  Mr. 
Tigg  so  urgently  conjured  them,  by  coughs  and  signs,  to  remain  in  the 
shadow  of  the  door,  that  they  stopped  there. 

"  I  swear,"  cried  Mr.  Slyme,  giving  the  table  an  imbecile  blow  with 
his  fist,  and  then  feebly  leaning  his  head  upon  his  hand,  while  some 
drunken  drops  oozed  from  his  eyes,  "  that  I  am  the  wretchedest  creature 
on  record.  Society  is  in  a  conspiracy  against  me.  I  'm  the  most 
literary  man  alive.  I  'm  full  of  scholarship  ;  I  'm  full  of  genius  ;  I  'm 
full  of  information  ;  I  'm  full  of  novel  views  on  every  subject ;  yet  look 
at  my  condition  !  I  'm  at  this  moment  obliged  to  two  strangers  for  a 
tavern  bill !" 

Mr.  Tigg  replenished  his  friend's  glass,  pressed  it  into  his  hand,  and 
nodded  an  intimation  to  the  visitors  that  they  would  see  him  in  a  better 
aspect  immediately. 

"  Obliged  to  two  strangers  for  a  tavern  bill,  eh  ! "  repeated  Mr.  Slyme, 
after  a  sulky  application  to  his  glass.  "  Very  pretty  !  And  crowds  of 
impostors,  the  while,  becoming  famous  :  men  who  are  no  more  on  a 
level  with  me  than — Tigg,  I  take  you  to  witness  that  I  am  the  most 
persecuted  hound  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

With  a  whine,  not  unlike  the  cry  of  the  animal  he  named,  in 
its  lowest  state  of  humiliation,  he  raised  his  glass  to  his  mouth  again. 
He  found  some  encouragement  in  it ;  for  when  he  set  it  down,  he  laughed 
scornfully.  Upon  that  Mr.  Tigg  gesticulated  to  the  visitors  once  more,  and 
with  great  expression  :  implying  that  now  the  time  was  come  when  they 
would  see  Chiv  in  his  greatness. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Mr.  Slyme.  "  Obliged  to  two  strangers  for 
a  tavern  bill !  Yet  I  think  I've  a  rich  uncle,  Tigg,  who  could  buy  up 
the  uncles  of  fifty  strangers  ?  Have  I,  or  have  I  not '?  I  come  of  a  good 
family,  I  believe  1  Do  I,  or  do  I  not  1  I'm  not  a  man  of  common  capacity 
or  accomplishments,  I  think.     Am  I,  or  am  I  not  ? 

"  You  are  the  American  aloe  of  the  human  race,  my  dear  Chiv,"  said 
Mr.  Tigg,  "  which  only  blooms  once  in  a  hundred  years  !  *' 

"  Ha,  ha,  hal"  laughed  Mr.  Slyme,  again.     "  Obliged  to  two  strangers 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  83 

for  a  tavern  bill !  I !  Obliged  to  two  architect's  apprentices — fellows 
who  measure  earth  with  iron  chains,  and  build  houses  like  bricklayers. 
<live  me  the  names  of  those  two  apprentices.    How  dare  they  oblige  me !" 

Mr.  Tigg  was  quite  lost  in  admiration  of  this  noble  trait  in  his  friend's 
•character  ;  as  he  made  known  to  Mr.  Pinch  in  a  neat  little  ballet  of 
action,  spontaneously  invented  for  the  purpose. 

"  I'll  let  'em  know,  and  I'll  let  all  men  know,"  cried  Chevy  Slyme, 
^'  that  I'm  none  of  the  mean,  grovelling,  tame  characters  they  meet  with 
commonly.  I  have  an  independent  spirit.  I  have  a  heart  that  swells 
in  my  bosom.     I  have  a  soul  that  rises  superior  to  base  considerations." 

"  0,  Chiv,  Chiv,"  murmured  Mr.  Tigg,  "  you  have  a  nobly  indepen- 
dent nature,  Chiv  ! " 

"  You  go  and  do  your  duty,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Slyme,  angrily,  "  and 
borrow  money  for  travelling  expenses  ;  and  whoever  you  borrow  it  of, 
let  'em  know  that  I  possess  a  haughty  spirit,  and  a  proud  spirit,  and 
have  infernally  finely-touched  chords  in  my  nature,  which  won't  brook 
patronage.  Do  you  hear  1  Tell  'em  I  hate  'em,  and  that  that's  the 
way  I  preserve  my  self-respect ;  and  tell  'em  that  no  man  ever  respected 
himself  more  than  I  do  !  " 

He  mio'ht  have  added  that  he  hated  two  sorts  of  men  :  all  those  who 
did  him  favours,  and  all  those  who  were  better  off  than  himself;  as  m 
either  case  their  position  was  an  insult  to  a  man  of  his  stupendous  merits. 
But  he  did  not ;  for  with  the  apt  closing  words  above  recited,  Mr. 
Slyme — of  too  haughty  a  stomach  to  work,  to  beg,  to  borrow,  or  to 
steal  ;  yet  mean  enough  to  be  worked  or  borrowed,  begged  or  stolen 
for,  by  any  catspaw  that  would  serve  his  turn  ;  too  insolent  to  lick  the 
hand  that  fed  him  in  his  need,  yet  cur  enough  to  bite  and  tear  it  in  the 
dark — M'ith  these  apt  closing  words,  Mr.  Slyme  fell  forward  with  his 
head  upon  the  table,  and  so  declined  into  a  sodden  sleep. 

"  Was  there  ever,"  cried  Mr.  Tigg,  joining  the  young  men  at  the 
door,  and  shutting  it  carefully  behind  him,  "  such  an  independent  spirit 
as  is  possessed  by  that  extraordinary  creature  1  Was  there  ever  such  a 
Roman  as  our  friend  Chiv  ?  Was  there  ever  a  man  of  such  a  purely 
classical  turn  of  thought,  and  of  such  a  toga-like  simplicity  of  nature  1 
^Vas  there  ever  a  man  with  such  a  flow  of  eloquence  i  Might  he  not, 
gents  both,  I  ask,  have  sat  upon  a  tripod  in  the  ancient  times,  and  pro- 
phesied to  a  perfectly  unlimited  extent,  if  previously  supplied  with  gin- 
and-water  at  the  public  cost  ?  " 

Mr.  Pinch  was  about  to  contest  this  latter  position  with  his  usual 
mildness,  when,  observing  that  his  companion  had  already  gone  down- 
stairs, he  prepared  to  follow  him. 

"  You  are  not  going,  Mr.  Pinch  1 "  said  Tigg. 

"  Thank  you,"  answered  Tom.     "  Yes.     Don't  come  do^^^l." 

"  Do  you  know  that  I  should  like  one  little  word  in  private  with 
you,  Mr.  Pinch  ? "  said  Tigg,  following  him.  "  One  minute  of  your 
company  in  the  skittle-ground  would  very  much  relieve  my  mind. 
Might  I  beseech  that  favour  1  " 

"  Oh,  certainly,"  replied  Tom,  "  if  you  really  wish  it."  So  he  accom- 
panied Mr.  Tigg  to  the  retreat  in  question  :  on  arriving  at  which  place 

g2 


81  LIFE    AND   ADVENTURES  ■  OF 

that  gentleman  took  from  his  hat  what  seemed  to  be  the  fossil  remains 
of  an  antediluvian  pocket-handkerchief,  and  wiped  his  eyes  therewith. 

"  You  have  not  beheld  me  this  day/'  said  Mr.  Tisfg,  ^'  in  a  favourable 
light." 

"  Don't  mention  that,"  said  Tom,  "  I  beg." 

"  But  you  have  not,''  cried  Tigg.  "  I  must  persist  in  that  opinion.  If 
you  could  have  seen  me,  ]Mr.  Pinch,  at  the  head  of  my  regiment  on  the 
coast  of  Africa,  charging  in  the  form  of  a  hollow  square  with  the  women 
and  children  and  the  regimental  plate-chest  in  the  centre,  you  would  not 
have  known  me  for  the  same  man.     You  would  have  respected  me.  Sir." 

Tom  had  certain  ideas  of  his  own  upon  the  subject  of  glory  ;  and  con- 
sequently he  was  not  quite  so  much  excited  by  this  picture  as  Mr.  Tigg 
could  have  desired. 

"  But  no  matter  ! "  said  that  gentleman.  "  The  school-boy  writing 
home  to  his  parents  and  describing  the  milk-and-water,  said  '  This  is 
indeed  weakness.'  I  repeat  that  assertion  in  reference  to  myself  at  the 
present  moment :  and  I  ask  your  pardon.  Sir,  you  have  seen  my 
friend  Slyme  V 

''  No  doubt,"  said  Mr.  Pinch. 
«    "  Sir,  you  have  been  impressed  by  my  friend  Slyme  ?" 

"  Not  very  pleasantly,  I  must  say,"  answered  Tom,  after  a  little 
hesitation. 

"  I  am  grieved  but  not  surprised,"  cried  Mr.  Tigg,  detaining  him  by 
both  lapels,  "  to  hear  that  you  have  come  to  that  conclusion  ;  for  it  is 
my  own.  But,  Mr.  Pinch,  though  I  am  a  rough  and  thoughtless  man,  I 
can  honour  Mind.  I  honour  Mind  in  following  my  friend.  To  you  of  all 
men,  Mr.  Pinch,  I  have  a  right  to  make  appeal  on  Mind's  behalf,  when 
it  has  not  the  art  to  push  its  fortune  in  the  world.  And  so.  Sir — not  for 
myself,  who  have  no  claim  upon  you,  but  for  my  crushed,  my  sensitive 
and  independent  friend,  who  has — I  ask  the  loan  of  three  half-crowns. 
I  ask  you  for  the  loan  of  three  half-crowns,  distinctly,  and  without  a  blush. 
I  ask  it,  almost  as  a  right.  And  when  I  add  that  they  will  be  returned  by 
post,  this  week,  I  feel  that  you  will  blame  me  for  that  sordid  stipulation." 

Mr.  Pinch  took  from  his  pocket  an  old-fashioned  red-leather  purse 
with  a  steel-clasp,  which  had  probably  once  belonged  to  his  deceased 
grandmother.  It  held  one  half-sovereign  and  no  more.  All  Tom's 
worldly  wealth  until  next  (piarter-day. 

"  Stay  ! "  cried  Mr.  Tigg,  who  had  watched  this  proceeding  keenly. 
''  I  was  just  about  to  say,  that  for  the  convenience  of  posting  you  had 
better  make  it  gold.  Thank  you.  A  general  direction,  I  suppose,  to 
Mr.  Pinch,  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's— will  tliat'lind  you  ?" 

"  That  '11  find  me,"  said  Tom.  "  You  had  better  put  Esquire  to  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  name,  if  you  please.  Direct  to  me,  you  know,  at  Seth  Peck- 
sniff's, Esquire." 

"At  Seth  Pecksniff's,  Esquire,"  repeated  Mr.  Tigg,  taking  an  exact 
note  of  it,  with  a  stump  of  pencil.     "We  said  this  week,  I  believe?" 

"  Yes  :  or  Monday  will  do,"  observed  Tom. 

"  No  no,  I  beg  your  pardon.  Monday  will  not  do,"  said  Mr.  Tigg.  "If 
we  stipulated  for  this  week,  Saturday  is  the  latest  day.  Did  we  stipulate 
for  this  week  ?" 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  bO 

"  Since  you  are  so  particular  about  it,"   said  Tom,  "  I  think  we  did." 

Mr.  Tigg  added  this  condition  to  his  memorandum  ;  read  the  entry 
over  to  himself  "with  a  severe  frovra  ;  and  that  the  transaction  might  be 
the  more  correct  and  business-like,  appended  his  initials  to  the  whole. 
That  done,  he  assured  Mr.  Pinch  that  everything  was  now  perfectly 
regular  ;  and,  after  squeezing  his  hand  with  great  fervour,  departed. 

Tom  entertained  enough  suspicion  that  Martin  might  possibly  turn 
this  intei*view  into  a  jest,  to  render  him  desirous  to  avoid  the  company 
of  that  young  gentleman  for  the  present.  With  this  view  he  took  a  few 
turns  up  and  do\vn  the  skittle-ground,  and  did  not  re-enter  the  house 
until  Mr.  Tigg  and  his  friend  had  quitted  it,  and  the  new  pupil  and 
Mark  were  watching  their  departure  from  one  of  the  windows. 

"  I  was  just  a  saying,  sir,  that  if  one  could  live  by  it,"  observed  Mark, 
pointing  after  their  late  guests,  "  that  would  be  the  sort  of  service  for  me. 
Waiting  on  such  individuals  as  them,  would  be  better  than  grave- 
digging,  sir." 

"  And  staying  here  would  be  better  than  either,  Mark,"  replied 
Tom.  "  So  take  my  advice,  and  continue  to  swim  easily  in  smooth  water." 

"  It's  too  late  to  take  it  now,  sir,"  said  Mark.  "  I  have  broke  it  to 
her,  sir.     I  am  off  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Off  !"  cried  Mr.  Pinch,  "  where  to  1 " 

"  I  shall  go  up  to  London,  sir." 
"    *^  What  to  be  ?"  asked  Mr.  Pinch. 

'•  Well  !  I  don't  know  yet,  sir.  Nothing  turned  up  that  day  I  opened 
my  mind  to  you,  as  was  at  all  likely  to  suit  me.  All  them  trades  I 
thought  of  was  a  deal  too  jolly  ;  there  was  no  credit  at  all  to  be  got  in 
any  of  'em.  I  must  look  for  a  private  service  I  suppose,  sir.  I  might 
be  brought  out  strong,  perhaps,  in  a  serious  family,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  Perhaps  you  might  come  out  rather  too  strong  for  a  serious  family's 
taste,  Mark." 

"  That's  possible,  sir.  If  I  could  get  into  a  wicked  family,  I  might  do 
myself  justice  :  but  the  difficulty  is  to  make  sure  of  one's  ground, 
because  a  young  man  can't  very  well  advertise  that  he  wants  a  place,  and 
wages  an't  so  much  an  object  as  a  wicked  sitivation;  can  he,  sir  1" 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  I  don't  think  he  can." 

"  An  envious  family,"  pursued  Mark,  with  a  thoughtful  face  ;  "  or  a 
quarrelsome  family,  or  a  malicious  family,  or  even  a  good  out-and-out 
mean  family,  would  open  a  field  of  action  as  I  might  do  something  in. 
The  man  as  would  have  suited  me  of  all  other  men  was  that  old  gentle- 
man as  was  took  ill  here,  for  he  really  was  a  trying  customer.  Howsever, 
I  must  wait  and  see  what  turns  turns  up,  sir  ;  and  hope  for  the  worst." 

^•' You  are  determined  to  go  then  V  said  Mr.  Pinch. 

"  My  box  is  gone  already,  sir,  by  the  waggon,  and  I'm  going  to  walk 
on  to-morrow  morning,  and  get  a  lift  by  the  day  coach  Avhen  it  overtakes 
me.  So  I  wish  you  good  b'ye,  Mr.  Pinch — and  you  too,  sir, — and  all 
good  luck  and  happiness  !  " 

They  both  returned  his  greeting  laughingly,  and  walked  home  arm- 
in-arm  :  Mr.  Pinch  imparting  to  his  new  friend,  as  they  went,  such 
further  particulars  of  Mark  Tapley's  whimsical  restlessness  as  the  reader 
is  already  acquainted  with. 


86  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

In  tlie  meantime  Mark,  having  a  shrewd  notion  that  his  mistress  was 
in  very  low  spirits,  and  that  he  could  not  exactly  answer  for  the  conse- 
quences of  any  lengthened  tcte  a  tete  in  the  bar,  kept  himself  obstinately 
put  of  her  way  all  the  afternoon  and  evening.  In  this  piece  of  general- 
ship he  was  very  much  assisted  by  the  great  influx  of  company  into  the 
tap-room  ;  for  the  news  of  his  intention  having  gone  abroad,  there  was  a 
perfect  throng  there  all  the  evening,  and  much  drinking  of  healths  and 
clinking  of  mugs.  At  length  the  house  was  closed  for  the  night ;  and 
there  being  now  no  help  for  it,  Mark  put  the  best  face  he  could  upon  the 
matter,  and  walked  doggedly  to  the  bar-door. 

"  If  I  look  at  her,"  said  Mark  to  himself,  "  I'm  done.  I  feel  that  I'm 
a  going  fast." 

"  You  have  come  at  last,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin. 
Aye,  Mark  said  :  There  he  was. 

"  And  you  are  determined  to  leave  us,  Mark,"  cried  Mrs.  Lupin. 
"  Why,  yes  ;  I  am,"  said  Mark  ;  keeping  his  eyes  hard  upon  the  floor. 
"  I  thought,"  pursued  the  landlady,  with  a  most  engaging  hesitation^ 
"  that  you  had  been — fond — of  the  Dragon  ?  " 
"  So  I  am,"  said  Mark. 

"Then,"  pursued  the  hostess — and  it  really  was  not  an  unnatural 
enquiry — "why  do  you  desert  it  ?" 

But  as  he  gave  no  manner  of  answer  to  this  question  ;  not  even  on 
its  being  repeated  ;  Mrs.  Lupin  put  his  money  into  his  hand,  and  asked 
him — not  unkindly,  quite  the  contrary — ^what  he  would  take. 

It  is  proverbial  that  there  are  certain  things  which  flesh  and  blood 
cannot  bear.  Such  a  question  as  this,  propounded  in  such  a  manner,  at 
such  a  time,  and  by  such  a  person,  proved  (at  least,  as  far  as  Mark's  flesh 
and  blood  were  concerned)  to  be  one  of  them.  He  looked  up  in  spite  ot 
himself  directly  ;  and  having  once  looked  up,  there  was  no  looking  down 
again  ;  for  of  all  the  tight,  plump,  buxom,  bright-eyed,  dimple-faced 
landladies  that  ever  shone  on  earth,  there  stood  before  him  then,  bodily 
in  that  bar,  the  very  pink  and  pine-apple. 

"  Why,  I  tell  you  what,"  said  Mark,  throwing  off"  all  his  constraint  in 
an  instant,  and  seizing  the  hostess  round  the  waist — at  which  she  was 
not  at  all  alarmed,  for  she  knew  what  a  good  young  man  he  was — "  if  I 
took  what  I  liked  most,  I  should  take  you.  If  I  only  thought  of  what 
was  best  for  me,  I  should  take  you.  If  I  took  what  nineteen  young 
fellows  in  twenty  would  be  glad  to  take,  and  would  take  at  any  price,  I 
should  take  you.  Yes,  I  should,"  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  shaking  his  head, 
expressively  enough,  and  looking  (in  a  momentary  state  of  forgetfulness) 
rather  hard  at  the  hostess's  ripe  lips.  "  And  no  man  wouldn't  wonder  if 
I  did  !" 

Mrs.  Lupin  said  he  amazed  her.  She  was  astonished  how  he  could  say 
such  things.     She  had  never  thought  it  of  him. 

"  Why,  I  never  thought  it  of  myself  till  now  !"  said  Mark,  raising  his 
eyebrows  with  a  look  of  the  merriest  possible  surprise.  "I  always 
expected  we  should  part,  and  never  have  no  explanation  ;  I  meant  to  da 
it  when  I  come  in  here  just  now  ;  but  there's  something  about  you,  as 
makes  a  man  sensible.   Then  let  us  have  a  word  or  two  together  :  letting 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  87 

it  be  understood  beforehand — "  he  added  this  in  a  grave  tone,  to  pre- 
vent the  possibility  of  any  mistake — "  that  I'm  not  a  going  to  make  no 
love,  you  know." 

There  was  for  just  one  second  a  shade — though  not  by  any  means  a 
dark  one — on  the  landlady's  open  brow.  But  it  passed  oiF  instantly,  in 
a  laugh  that  came  from  her  very  heart. 

"  Oh,  very  good  !"  she  said  ;  "  if  there  is  to  be  no  love-making,  you 
had  better  take  your  arm  av/ay." 

"  Lord,  why  should  I  !"  cried  Mark.     "  It's  quite  innocent." 

"  Of  course  it's  innocent,"  returned  the  hostess,  "  or  I  shouldn't 
allow  it." 

"  Very  well  !"  said  Mark.     "  Then  let  it  be." 

There  was  so  much  reason  in  this,  that  the  landlady  laughed  again, 
suffered  it  to  remain,  and  bade  him  say  what  he  had  to  say,  and  be 
quick  about  it.     But  he  was  an  impudent  fellow,  she  added. 

"  Ha  ha  !  I  almost  think  I  am  !"  cried  Mark,  "  though  I  never  thought 
so  before.    Why,  I  can  say  anything  to-night !" 

"  Say  what  you're  going  to  say  if  you  please,  and  be  quick,"  returned 
the  landlady,  "  for  I  want  to  get  to  bed," 

"  Why,  then,  my  dear  good  soul,"  said  Mark,  "  and  a  kinder  woman 
than  you  are,  never  drawed  breath — let  me  see  the  man  as  says  she  did — 
what  would  be  the  likely  consequence  of  us  two  being — " 

"  Oh  nonsense  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Lupin.  "  Don't  talk  about  that  any 
more." 

"  No  no,  but  it  an't  nonsense,"  said  Mark  ;  "  and  I  wish  you'd  attend. 
What  would  be  the  likely  consequence  of  us  two  being  married  1  If  I 
can't  be  content  and  comfortable  in  this  here  lively  Dragon  now,  is  it  to  be 
looked  for  as  I  should  be  then  1  By  no  means.  Very  good.  Then 
you,  even  with  your  good  humour,  would  be  always  on  the  fret  and 
worrit,  always  uncomfortable  in  your  own  mind,  always  a  thinking  as 
you  was  getting  too  old  for  my  taste,  always  a  picturing  me  to  yourself 
as  being  chained  up  to  the  Dragon  door,  and  wanting  to  break  away. 
I  don't  know  that  it  would  be  so,"  said  Mark,  "but  I  don't  know 
that  it  mightn't  be.  I  am  a  roving  sort  of  chap,  I  know.  I'm  fond  of 
change.  I'm  always  a  thinking  that  with  my  good  health  and  spirits  it 
would  be  more  creditable  in  me  to  be  jolly  w^here  there's  things  a  going 
on,  to  make  one  dismal.  It  may  be  a  mistake  of  mine,  you  see,  but 
nothing  short  of  trying  how  it  acts,  will  set  it  right.  Then  an't  it  best 
that  I  should  go  :  particular  when  your  free  way  has  helped  me  out  to 
say  all  this,  and  we  can  part  as  good  friends  as  we  have  ever  been  since 
first  I  entered  this  here  noble  Dragon,  which"  said  Mr.  Tapley  in  con- 
clusion, "  has  my  good  word  and  my  good  wish,  to  the  day  of  my  death ! " 

The  hostess  sat  quite  silent  for  a  little  time,  but  she  very  soon  put 
both  her  hands  in  Mark's  and  shook  them  heartily. 

"  For  you  are  a  good  man,"  she  said  ;  looking  into  his  face  with  a 
smile,  which  was  rather  serious  for  her.  "  And  I  do  believe  have  been 
a  better  friend  to  me  to-night  than  ever  I  have  had  in  all  my  life." 

"  Oh  !  as  to  that,  you  know,"  said  Mark,  "  that's  nonsense.  But 
love  my  heart  alive  !  "  he  added,  looking  at  her  in  a  sort  of  rapture,  "  if 


S8  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

you  are  that  way  disposed,  what  a  lot  of  suitable  husbands  there  is  as 
you  may  drive  distracted  !  " 

She  laughed  again  at  this  compliment ;  and,  once  more  shaking  him 
by  both  hands,  and  bidding  him,  if  he  should  ever  want  a  friend,  to 
remember  her,  turned  gaily  from  the  little  bar  and  up  the  Dragon 
staircase. 

"  Humming  a  tune  as  she  goes,"  said  Mark,  listening,  "  in  case  I 
should  think  she's  at  all  put  out,  and  should  be  made  down-hearted. 
Come,  here's  some  credit  in  being  jolly,  at  last !  " 

With  that  piece  of  comfort,  very  ruefully  uttered,  he  went,  in  any- 
thing but  a  jolly  manner,  to  bed. 

He^rose  early  next  morning,  and  was  a-foot  soon  after  sunrise.  But 
it  was  of  no  use  ;  the  whole  place  was  up  to  see  Mark  Tapley  off  :  the 
boys,  the  dogs,  the  children,  the  old  men,  the  busy  people  and  the  idlers  : 
there  they  were,  all  calling  out  "  Good  by'e,  Mark,"  after  their  own 
manner,  and  all  sorry  he  was  going.  Somehow  he  had  a  kind  of  sense 
that  his  old  mistress  was  peeping  from  her  chamber-window,  but  he 
couldn't  make  up  his  mind  to  look  back. 

"  Good  by'e  one,  good  by'e  all !  "  cried  Mark,  waving  his  hat  on  the 
top  of  his  walking-stick,  as  he  strode  at  a  quick  pace  up  the  little  street. 
"  Hearty  chaps  them  wheelwrights — hurrah  !  Here's  the  butcher's 
dog  a-coming  out  of  the  garden — down,  old  fellow  !  And  Mr.  Pinch 
a-going  to  his  organ — good  by'e,  sir  !  And  the  terrier-bitch  from  over 
the  way — hie,  then,  lass  !  And  children  enough  to  hand  down  human 
natur  to  the  latest  posterity — good  by'e,  boys  and  girls  !  There's  some 
credit  in  it  now.  I'm  a-coming  out  strong  at  last.  These  are  the  cir- 
cumstances as  would  try  a  ordinary  mind  ;  but  I'm  uncommon  jolly  , 
not  quite  as  jolly  as  I  could  wish  to  be,  but  very  near.  Good  by'e  ! 
good  by'e  ! " 


CHAPTER  VIII. 


ACCOMPANIES  MR.  PECKSNIFF  AND  HIS  CHARMING  DAUGHTERS  TO  THE 
CITY  OF  LONDON  j  AND  RELATES  WHAT  FELL  OUT,  UPON  THEIR  WAY 
THITHER. 

When  Mr.  PecksniiF  and  the  two  young  ladies  got  into  the  heavy 
coach  at  the  end  of  the  lane,  they  found  it  empty,  which  was  a  great 
comfort ;  particularly  as  the  outside  was  quite  full  and  the  passengers 
looked  very  frosty.  For  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  justly  observed — when  he  and 
his  daughters  had  burrowed  their  feet  deep  in  the  straw,  wrapped  them- 
selves to  the  chin,  and  pulled  up  both  windows — it  is  always  satisfactory 
to  feel,  in  keen  weather,  that  many  other  people  are  not  as  warm  as  you 
are.  And  this,  he  said,  was  quite  natural,  and  a  very  beautiful  arrange- 
ment ;  not  confined  to  coaches,  but  extending  itself  into  many  social 
ramifications.  "  For "  (he  observed),  "  if  every  one  were  warm  and 
well-fed,  we  should  lose  the  satisfaction  of  admiring  the  fortitude  with 


^.-y/ca^m  /^^6nj  ^  /^-  u?//?/,  z///^/  c/Si  -///r/Z'/e  r/  y r// 721^1 /r^  ?  - 


"^f 


V 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  89 

which  certain  conditions  of  men  bear  cold  and  hunger.  And  if  we  were 
no  better  oif  than  anybody  else,  what  would  become  of  our  sense  of 
gratitude  ;  which,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  as  he  shook 
his  fist  at  a  beggar  who  wanted  to  get  up  behind,  "  is  one  of  the  holiest 
feelings  of  our  common  nature." 

His  children  heard  with  becoming  reverence  these  moral  precepts 
from  the  lips  of  their  father,  and  signified  their  acquiescence  in  the  same, 
by  smiles.  That  he  might  the  better  feed  and  cherish  that  sacred  flame 
of  gratitude  in  his  breast,  Mr.  Pecksniff  remarked  that  he  would  trouble 
his  eldest  daughter,  even  in  this  early  stage  of  their  journey,  for  the 
brandy-bottle.  And  from  the  narrow  neck  of  that  stone  vessel,  he 
imbibed  a  copious  refreshment. 

"  What  are  we  V  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  but  coaches  1  Some  of  us  are 
slowcoaches" — 

"  Goodness,  Pa  !"  cried  Charity. 

'•  Some  of  us,  I  say,"  resumed  her  parent  with  increased  emphasis, 
^'  are  slow  coaches  ;  some  of  us  are  fast  coaches.  Our  passions  are  the 
horses  ;  and  rampant  animals  too  !" — 

"Pteally  Pa!"  cried  both  the  daughters  at  once.  "How  very 
unpleasant." 

"And  rampant  animals  too  !"  repeated  Mr,  Pecksniff,  with  so  much 
determination,  that  he  may  be  said  to  have  exhibited,  at  the  moment, 
a  sort  of  moral  rampancy  himself : — "  and  Virtue  is  the  drag.  We 
start  from  The  jMother's  Arms,  and  we  run  to  The  Dust  Shovel." 

When  he  had  said  this,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  being  exhausted,  took  some 
further  refreshment.  When  he  had  done  that,  he  corked  the  bottle  tight, 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  had  effectually  corked  the  subject  also  ;  and 
went  to  sleep  for  three  stages. 

The  tendency  of  mankind  when  it  falls  asleep  in  coaches,  is  to  wake 
up  cross  ;  to  find  its  legs  in  its  vray  ;  and  its  corns  an  aggravation. 
Mr.  Pecksniff  not  being  exempt  from  the  common  lot  of  humanity, 
found  himself,  at  the  end  of  his  nap,  so  decidedly  the  victim  of  these 
infirmities,  that  he  had  an  irresistible  inclination  to  visit  them  upon  his 
daughters  ;  which  he  had  already  begun  to  do  in  the  shape  of  divers 
random  kicks,  and  other  unexpected  motions  of  his  shoes,  when  the 
coach  stopped,  and  after  a  short  delay,  the  door  was  opened. 

"  Now  mind,"  said  a  thin  sharp  voice  in  the  dark.  '•'  I  and  my  son 
go  inside,  because  the  roof  is  full,  but  you  agree  only  to  charge  us  out- 
side prices.     It's  quite  understood  that  we  won't  pay  more.     Is  it  1 " 

"  All  right,  sir,"  replied  the  guard. 

"  Is  there  anybody  inside  now  '1 "  inquired  the  voice. 

"  Three  passengers,"  returned  the  guard. 

"  Then  I  ask  the  three  passengers  to  witness  this  bargain,  if  they  will 
be  so  good,"  said  the  voice.     "  My  boy,  I  think  we  may  safely  get  in." 

In  pursuance  of  which  opinion,  two  people  took  their  seats  in  the 
vehicle,  which  was  solemnly  licensed  by  Act  of  Parliament  to  carry  any 
six  persons  who  could  be  got  in  at  the  door, 

"  That  was  lucky  ! "  whispered  the  old  man,  when  they  moved  on 
again.  "And  a  great  stroke  of  policy  in  you  to  observe  it.  He,  he,  he  ! 
We  couldn't  have  gone  outside.    I  should  have  died  of  the  rheumatism ! " 


00  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Whetlier  it  occurred  to  the  dutiful  son  that  he  had  in  some  degree 
over-reached  himself  by  contributing  to  the  prolongation  of  his  father's 
days  ;  or  whether  the  cold  had  affected  his  temper  ;  is  doubtful.  But 
he  gave  his  father  such  a  nudge  in  reply,  that  that  good  old  gentleman 
was  taken  with  a  cough  which  lasted  for  full  five  minutes,  without 
intermission,  and  goaded  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  that  pitch  of  irritation,  that 
he  said  at  last — and  very  suddenly — 

"  There  is  no  room  !  There  is  really  no  room  in  this  coach  for  any 
gentleman  with  a  cold  in  his  head  !  " 

"  Mine,"  said  the  old  man,  after  a  moment's  pause,  "  is  upon  my  chest, 
Pecksniff." 

The  voice  and  manner,  together,  now  that  he  spoke  out ;  the  com- 
posure of  the  speaker  ;  the  presence  of  his  son  ;  and  his  knowledge  of 
Mr.  Pecksniff;  afforded  a  clue  to  his  identity  which  it  was  impossible  to 
mistake. 

"  Hem  !  I  thought,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  returning  to  his  usual  mild- 
ness, "  that  I  addressed  a  stranger.  I  find  that  I  address  a  relative.  Mr. 
Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and  his  son  Mr.  Jonas — for  they,  my  dear  children, 
are  our  travelling  companions — will  excuse  me  for  an  aj)parently  harsh 
remark.  It  is  not  my  desire  to  wound  the  feelings  of  any  person  with 
whom  I  am  connected  in  family  bonds.  I  may  be  a  Hypocrite/'  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  cuttingly,  "  but  I  am  not  a  Brute." 

"  Pooh,  pooh !  "  said  the  old  man.  "  What  signifies  that  word, 
Pecksniff?  Hypocrite  !  why,  we  are  all  hypocrites.  We  were  all 
hypocrites  t'other  day.  I  am  sure  I  felt  that  to  be  agreed  upon  among 
us,  or  1  shouldn't  have  called  you  one.  We  should  not  have  been  there 
at  all,  if  we  had  not  been  hypocrites.  The  only  difference  between  you 
and  the  rest  was — shall  I  tell  you  the  difference  between  you  and  the 
rest  now,  Pecksniff?" 

"  If  you  please,  my  good  sir  ;  if  you  please." 

('  Why,  the  annoying  quality  in  you,  is,"  said  the  old  man,  "  that  you 
never  have  a  confederate  or  partner  in  your  juggling;  you  would  deceive 
everybody,  even  those  who  practise  the  same  art ;  and  have  a  way  with 
you,  as  if  you — he,  he,  he  ! — as  if  you  really  believed  yourself.  I'd  lay 
a  handsome  wager  now,"  said  the  old  man,  "  if  I  laid  wagers,  which  I 
don't  and  never  did,  that  you  keep  up  appearances  by  a  tacit  under- 
standing, even  before  your  own  daughters  here.  Now  I,  when  I  have  a 
business  scheme  in  hand,  tell  Jonas  what  it  is,  and  we  discuss  it  openly. 
You're  not  offended,  Pecksniff  1 " 

"  Offended,  my  good  sir  ! "  cried  that  gentleman,  as  if  he  had  received 
the  highest  compliments  that  language  could  convey. 

"  Are  you  travelling  to  London,  Mr.  Pecksniff?"  asked  the  son. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Jonas,  we  are  travelling  to  London.  We  shall  have  the 
pleasure  of  your  company  all  the  way,  I  trust  1 " 

"  Oh  !  ecod,  you  had  better  ask  father  that,"  said  Jonas.  "  I  am  not 
a  going  to  commit  myself." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was,  as  a  matter  of  course,  greatly  entertained  by  this 
retort.  His  mirth  having  subsided,  Mr.  Jonas  gave  him  to  understand 
that  himself  and  parent  were  in  fact  travelling  to  their  home  in  the 
metropolis  :    and  that,  since  the  memorable  day  of  the  great  family 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  91 

gathering,  they  had  been  tarrying  in  that  part  of  the  country,  watching 
the  sale  of  certain  eligible  investments,  which  they  had  had  in  their 
copartnership  eye  when  they  came  down  ;  for  it  was  their  custom,  Mr. 
Jonas  said,  whenever  such  a  thing  was  practicable,  to  kill  two  birds  with 
one  stone,  and  never  to  throw  away  sprats,  but  as  bait  for  whales.  When 
he  had  communicated,  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  these  pithy  scraps  of  intelligence, 
he  said  "That  if  it  was  all  the  same  to  him,  he  would  turn  him  over  to 
father,  and  have  a  chat  with  the  gals;"  and  in  furtherance  of  this  polite 
scheme,  he  vacated  his  seat  adjoining  that  gentleman,  and  established 
himself  in  the  opposite  corner,  next  to  the  fair  Miss  Mercy. 

The  education  of  Mr.  Jonas  had  been  conducted  from  his  cradle  on  the 
strictest  principles  of  the  main  chance.  The  very  first  word  he  learnt  to 
spell  was  "gain,"  and  the  second  (when  he  got  into  two  syllables), 
"  money."  But  for  two  results,  which  were  not  clearly  foreseen  perhaps  by 
his  watchful  parent  in  the  beginning,  his  training  maybe  said  to  have  been 
unexceptionable.  One  of  these  flaws  was,  that  having  been  long  taught 
by  his  father  to  over-reach  everybody,  he  had  imperceptibly  acquired  a 
love  of  over-reaching  that  venerable  monitor  himself  The  other,  that 
from  his  early  habits  of  considering  everything  as  a  question  of  property,  he 
had  gradually  come  to  look,  with  impatience,  on  his  parent  as  a  certain 
amount  of  personal  estate,  which  had  no  right  vrhatever  to  be  going  at 
large,  but  ought  to  be  secured  in  that  particular  description  of  iron 
safe  which  is  commonly  called  a  coffin,  and  banked  in  the  grave. 

"  Well,  cousin ! "  said  Mr.  Jonas — "  Because  we  are  cousins,  you  know, 
a  few  times  removed — So  you  're  going  to  London  ?" 

Miss  Mercy  replied  in  the  affirmative,  pinching  her  sister's  arm  at  the 
same  time,  and  giggling  excessively. 

"  Lots  of  beaux  in  London,  cousin  ! "  said  Mr.  Jonas,  slightly  advancing 
his  elbow. 

"  Indeed,  sir  ! "  cried  the  young  lady.  '■'  They  won't  hurt  us,  sir,  I 
dare  say."  And  having  given  him  this  answer  with  great  demureness, 
she  was  so  overcome  by  her  own  humour,  that  she  was  fain  to  stifle  her 
merriment  in  her  sister's  shawl. 

"  Merry,"  cried  that  more  prudent  damsel,  "  really  I  am  ashamed  of 
you.  How  can  you  go  on  so  %  you  wild  thing  !"  At  which  Miss  Merry 
only  laughed  the  more,  of  course. 

"  I  saw  a  wildness  in  her  eye,  t'other  day,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  addressing-- 
Charity.  "  But  you  're  the  one  to  sit  solemn  !  I  say — ^you  were  regularly 
prim,  cousin  ! " 

"  Oh  !  The  old-fashioned  fright  ! "  cried  Merry,  in  a  whisper. 
"  Cherry,  my  dear,  upon  my  word  you  must  sit  next  him.  I  shall  die 
outright  if  he  talks  to  me  any  more  ;  I  shall  positively  !  "  To  prevent 
which  fatal  consequence,  the  buoyant  creature  skipped  out  of  her  seat  as 
she  spoke,  and  squeezed  her  sister  into  the  place  from  which  she  had  risen. 

"  Don't  mind  crowding  me,"  cried  Mr.  Jonas.  "  I  like  to  be 
crowded  by  gals.     Come  a  little  closer,  cousin." 

"  No,  thank  you,  sir,"  said  Charity. 

"  There's  that  other  one  a  laughing  again,"  said  Mr.  Jonas  ;  "  she's 
a  laughing  at  my  father,  I  shouldn't  wonder.     If  he  puts  on  that  old 


S2  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

flannel  niglitcap  of  his,  I  don't  know  what  she'll  do  !  Is  that  my 
father  a  snoring,  Pecksniff  1 " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Jonas." 

"  Tread  upon  his  foot,  will  you  be  so  good  ? "  said  the  young  gen- 
tleman.    "  The  foot  next  you's  the  gouty  one." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  hesitating  to  perform  this  friendly  office,  Mr.  Jonas 
did  it  himself ;  at  the  same  time  crying — 

"  Come,  wake  up,  father,  or  you'll  be  having  the  nightmare,  and 
screeching  out,  /  know. — Do  you  ever  have  the  nightmare,  cousin  1 " 
he  asked  his  neighbour,  with  characteristic  gallantry,  as  he  dropped  his 
voice  again. 

"  Sometimes,"  answered  Charity.     "  Not  often." 

"  The  other  one,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  after  a  pause.  "  Does  she  ever 
have  the  nightmare  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  replied  Charity.     "  You  had  better  ask  her." 

"  She  laughs  so  ; "  said  Jonas  ;  "  there's  no  talking  to  her.  Only 
hark  how's  she  a  going  on  now  !     You're  the  sensible  one,  cousin  ! " 

"  Tut,  tut  ! "  cried  Charity. 

"  Oh  !     But  you  are  !     You  know  you  are  ! " 

"  Mercy  is  a  little  giddy,"  said  Miss  Charity.  "  But  she'll  sober 
down  in  time." 

"  It  '11  be  a  very  long  time,  then,  if  she  does  at  all,"  rejoined  her 
cousin.     "  Take  a  little  more  room." 

"  I  am  afraid  of  crowding  you,"  said  Charity.  But  she  took  it  not- 
withstanding j  and  after  one  or  two  remarks  on  the  extreme  heaviness 
of  the  coach,  and  the  number  of  places  it  stopped  at,  they  fell  into  a 
silence  which  remained  unbroken  by  any  member  of  the  party  until 
supper-time. 

Although  Mr.  Jonas  conducted  Charity  to  the  hotel  and  sat  himself 
beside  her  at  the  board,  it  was  pretty  clear  that  he  had  an  eye  to  "  the 
other  one"  also,  for  he  often  glanced  across  at  Mercy,  and  seemed  to 
draw  comparisons  between  the  personal  appearance  of  the  two,  which 
were  not  unfavourable  to  the  superior  plumpness  of  the  younger  sister. 
He  allowed  himself  no  great  leisure  for  this  kind  of  observation,  how- 
ever, being  busily  engaged  with  the  supper,  which,  as  he  whispered  in 
his  fair  companion's  ear,  Vv^as  a  contract  business,  and  therefore  the  more 
she  ate,  the  better  the  bargain  was.  His  father  and  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
probably  acting  on  the  same  wise  principle,  demolished  everything  that 
came  within  their  reach,  and  by  that  means  acquired  a  greasy  expression 
of  countenance,  indicating  contentment,  if  not  repletion,  which  it  was 
very  pleasant  to  contemplate. 

When  they  could  eat  no  more,  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  Mr.  Jonas  subscribed 
for  two  sixpennyworths  of  hot  brandy-and-water,  which  the  latter  gentle- 
man considered  a  more  politic  order  than  one  shillingsworth  ;  there 
being  a  chance  of  their  getting  more  spirit  out  of  the  innkeeper  under 
this  arrangement  than  if  it  were  all  in  one  glass.  Having  swallowed 
his  share  of  the  enlivening  fluid,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  under  pretence  of  going 
to  see  if  the  coach  were  ready,  went  secretly  to  the  bar,  and  had  his  o"wn 
little  bottle  filled,  in  order  that  he  might  refresh  himself  at  leisure  in 
the  dark  coach  \nthout  being  observed. 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  93 

These  arrangements  concluded,  and  the  coach  being  ready,  they  got 
into  their  old  places  and  jogged  on  again.  But  before  he  composed 
himself  for  a  nap,  Mr.  Pecksniff  delivered  a  kind  of  grace  after  meat,  in 
these  words  : 

"  The  process  of  digestion,  as  I  have  been  informed  by  anatomical 
friends,  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  works  of  nature.  I  do  not  know 
how  it  may  be  with  others,  but  it  is  a  great  satisfaction  to  me  to  know, 
when  regaling  on  my  humble  fare,  that  I  am  putting  in  motion  the 
most  beautiful  machinery  with  which  we  have  any  acquaintance.  I 
really  feel  at  such  times  as  if  I  was  doing  a  public  service.  When  I  have 
wound  myself  up,  if  I  may  employ  such  a  term,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff 
with  exquisite  tenderness,  "  and  know  that  I  am  Going,  I  feel  that  in 
the  lesson  afForded  by  the  works  within  me,  I  am  a  Benefactor  to  my 
Kind!" 

As  nothing  could  be  added  to  this,  nothing  was  said  ;  and  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, exulting,  it  may  be  presumed,  in  his  moral  utility,  went  to  sleep 
again. 

The  rest  of  the  nio-ht  wore  awav  in  the  usual  manner.  Mr.  Pecksniff 
and  Old  Anthony  kept  tumbling  against  each  other  and  waking  up 
much  terrified  ;  or  crushed  their  heads  in  opposite  corners  of  the 
coach  and  strangely  tattooed  the  surface  of  their  faces — Heaven  knows 
how — in  their  sleep.  The  coach  stopped  and  went  on,  and  went 
on  and  stopped,  times  out  of  number.  Passengers  got  up  and 
passengers  got  down,  and  fresh  horses  came  and  went  and  came 
again,  with  scarcely  any  interval  between  each  team  as  it  seemed  to  those 
who  were  dozing,  and  with  a  gap  of  a  whole  night  between  every  one  as 
it  seemed  to  those  who  were  broad  awake.  At  length  they  began  to 
jolt  and  rumble  over  horribly  uneven  stones,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  looking 
out  of  window  said  it  was  to-morrow  morning,  and  they  were  there. 

Very  soon  afterwards  the  coach  stopped  at  the  office  in  the  city;  and 
the  street  in  which  it  was  situated  was  already  in  a  bustle,  that  fully 
bore  out  Mr.  Pecksniff's  words  about  its  being  morning,  though  for  any 
signs  of  day  yet  appearing  in  the  sky  it  might  have  been  midnight. 
There  was  a  dense  fog  too — as  if  it  were  a  city  in  the  clouds,  which  they 
liad  been  travelling  to  all  night  up  a  magic  beanstalk — and  a  thick 
crust  upon  the  pavement  like  oil-cake;  which,  one  of  the  outsides  (mad, 
no  doubt)  said  to  another  (his  keeper,  of  course),  was  snow. 

Taking  a  confused  leave  of  Anthony  and  his  son,  and  leaving  the 
luggage  of  himself  and  daughters  at  the  office  to  be  called  for  afterwards, 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  one  of  the  young  ladies  under  each  arm,  dived  across 
the  street,  and  then  across  other  streets,  and  so  up  the  queerest  courts, 
and  down  the  strangest  alleys  and  under  the  blindest  archways,  in  a  kind 
of  frenzy  :  now  skipping  over  a  kennel,  now  running  for  his  life  from  a 
coach  and  horses  ;  now  thinking  he  had  lost  his  way,  now  thinking  he 
had  found  it ;  now  in  a  state  of  the  highest  confidence,  now  despondent 
to  the  last  degree,  but  always  in  a  great  perspiration  and  flurry ;  until  at 
length  they  stopped  in  a  kind  of  paved  yard  near  the  Monument.  That 
is  to  say,  jlr.  Pecksniff  told  them  so ;  for  as  to  anything  they  could  see 
of  the  Monument,  or  anything  else  but  the  buildings  close  at  hand,  they 
might  as  well  have  been  playing  blindman's  buff  at  Salisbury. 


94  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  about  iiim  for  a  moment,  and  then  knocked  at 
tlie  door  of  a  very  dingy  edifice,  even  among  the  choice  collection  of 
dingy  edifices  at  hand  ;  on  the  front  of  which  was  a  little  oval  board, 
like  a  tea-tray,  with  this  inscription — "  Commercial  Boarding  House  : 
M.  Todgers." 

It  seemed  that  M.  Todgers  was  not  up  yet,  for  Mr.  Pecksniff  knocked 
twice  and  rang  thrice,  without  making  any  impression  on  anything  but 
a  dog  over  the  way.  At  last  a  chain  and  some  bolts  were  withdrawn 
with  a  rusty  noise,  as  if  the  weather  had  made  the  very  fastenings  hoarse, 
and  a  small  boy  with  a  large  red  head,  and  no  nose  to  speak  of,  and  a 
very  dirty  Wellington  boot  on  his  left  arm,  appeared;  who  (being  sur- 
prised) rubbed  the  nose  just  mentioned  with  the  back  of  a  shoe-brush, 
and  said  nothing. 

"  Still  a-bed,  my  man  V  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Still  a-bed  !"  replied  the  boy.  "  I  wish  they  wos  still  a-bed.  They're 
very  noisy  a-bed ;  all  calling  for  their  boots  at  once.  I  thought  you 
wos  the  Paper,  and  wondered  why  you  didn't  shove  yourself  through  the 
grating  as  usual.     What  do  you  want  1 " 

Considering  his  years,  which  were  tender,  the  youth  may  be  said  to 
have  preferred  this  question  sternly,  and  in  something  of  a  defiant 
manner.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff,  without  taking  umbrage  at  his  bearing, 
put  a  card  in  his  hand,  and  bade  him  take  that  up-stairs,  and  show  them 
in  the  meanwhile  into  a  room  where  there  was  a  fire. 

"  Or  if  there's  one  in  the  eating  parlour,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  I  can 
find  it  myself"  So  he  led  his  daughters,  Avithout  waiting  for  any 
further  introduction,  into  a  room  on  the  ground  floor,  where  a 
table-cloth  (rather  a  tight  and  scanty  fit  in  reference  to  the  table  it 
covered)  was  already  spread  for  breakfast :  displaying  a  mighty  dish  of 
pink  boiled  beef ;  an  instance  of  that  particular  style  of  loaf  which  is 
known  to  housekeepers  as  a  slack-baked,  crummy  quartern ;  a  liberal 
provision  of  cups  and  saucers  ;  and  the  usual  appendages. 

Inside  the  fender  were  some  half  dozen  pairs  of  shoes  and  boots,  of 
various  sizes,  just  cleaned  and  turned  with  the  soles  upward  to  dry  ;  and 
a  pair  of  short  black  gaiters,  on  one  of  which  was  chalked — in  sport,  it 
would  appear,  by  some  gentleman  who  had  slipped  down  for  the  pur- 
pose, pending  his  toilet,  and  gone  up  again — "  Jinkins's  Particular,"  while 
the  other  exhibited  a  sketch  in  profile,  claiming  to  be  the  portrait  of 
Jinkins  himself 

M.  Todgers's  Commercial  Boarding-House  was  a  house  of  that  sort 
which  is  likely  to  be  dark  at  any  time  ;  but  that  morning  it  was 
especially  dark.  There  was  an  odd  smell  in  the  passage,  as  if  the  con- 
centrated essence  of  all  the  dinners  that  had  been  cooked  in  the  kitchen 
since  the  house  was  built,  lingered  at  the  top  of  the  kitchen  stairs  to 
that  hour,  and,  like  the  Black  Friar  in  Don  Juan,  "  wouldn't  be  driven 
away."  In  particular,  there  was  a  sensation  of  cabbage ;  as  if  all 
the  greens  that  had  ever  been  boiled  there,  were  evergreens,  and  flourished 
in  immortal  strength.  The  parlour  was  wainscoted,  and  communicated  to 
strangers  a  magnetic  and  instinctive  consciousness  of  rats  and  mice.  The 
staircase  was  very  gloomy  and  very  broad,  with  balustrades  so  thick  and 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  95 

heavy  tliat  they  would  have  served  for  a  bridge.  In  a  sombre  corner  on 
the  first  landing;  stood  a  gruff  old  giant  of  a  clock,  with  a  preposterous 
coronet  of  three  brass  balls  on  his  head  ;  whom  few  had  ever  seen — none 
ever  looked  in  the  face — and  who  seemed  to  continue  his  heavy  tick  for 
no  other  reason  than  to  warn  heedless  people  from  running  into  him 
accidentally.  It  had  not  been  papered  or  painted,  hadn't  Todgers's, 
within  the  memory  of  man.  It  was  very  black,  begrimed,  and  mouldy. 
And,  at  the  top  of  the  staircase,  was  an  old,  disjointed,  rickety,  ill-favoured 
skylight,  patched  and  mended  in  all  kinds  of  ways,  which  looked  dis- 
trustfully down  at  everything  that  passed  below,  and  covered  Todgers's 
up  as  if  it  were  a  sort  of  human  cucumber-frame,  and  only  people  of  a 
peculiar  growth  were  reared  there. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  fair  daughters  had  not  stood  warming  them- 
selves at  the  fire  ten  minutes,  when  the  sound  of  feet  was  heard  upon  the 
stairs,  and  the  presiding  deity  of  the  establishment  came  hurrying  in. 

M.  Todgers  was  a  lady — rather  a  bony  and  hard-featured  lady — with 
a  row  of  curls  in  front  of  her  head,  shaped  like  little  barrels  of  beer ; 
and  on  the  top  of  it  something  made  of  net — you  couldn't  call  it  a  cap 
exactly — which  looked  like  a  black  cobweb.  She  had  a  little  basket  on 
her  arm,  and  in  it  a  bunch  of  keys  that  jingled  as  she  came.  In  her 
other  hand  she  bore  a  flaming  tallow  candle,  which,  after  surveying  Mr. 
Pecksniff  for  one  instant  by  its  light,  she  put  do^vn  upon  the  table,  to 
the  end  that  she  might  receive  him  with  the  greater  cordiality. 

"  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers.  '•  Welcome  to  London  !  Who 
would  have  thought  of  such  a  visit  as  this,  after  so — dear,  dear  ! — so 
many  years  !     How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Pecksniff  ?  " 

"  As  well  as  ever  ;  and  as  glad  to  see  you,  as  ever ;"  Mr.  Pecksniff 
made  response.     "  Why,  you  are  younger  than  you  used  to  be  I " 

"  Yon  are,  I  am  sure  ! "  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  "  You're  not  a  bit 
changed." 

"  What  do  you  say  to  this  ? "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  stretching  out  his 
hand  towards  the  young  ladies.     "  Does  this  make  me  no  older  '?  " 

"  Not  your  daughters  !  "  exclaimed  the  lady,  raising  her  hands  and 
clasping  them.  "  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Pecksniff !  Your  second,  and  her 
bridesmaid  ! " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  smiled  complacently  ;  shook  his  head  ;  and  said,  "  My 
daughters,  Mrs.  Todgers  :  merely  my  daughters." 

"  Ah  ! "  sighed  the  good  lady,  "  I  must  believe  you,  for  now  I  look 
at  'em  I  think  I  should  have  known  'em  anywhere.  My  dear  Miss 
Pecksniffs,  how  happy  your  Pa  has  made  me  ! " 

She  hugged  them  both  ;  and  being  by  this  time  overpowered  by  her 
feelings  or  the  inclemency  of  the  morning,  jerked  a  little  pocket  hand- 
kerchief out  of  the  little  basket,  and  applied  the  same  to  her  face. 

"  Now,  my  good  madam,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  I  know  the  rules  of 
your  establishment,  and  that  you  only  receive  gentlemen  boarders.  But 
it  occurred  to  me,  when  I  left  home,  that  perhaps  you  would  give  my 
daughters  houseroom,  and  make  an  exception  in  their  favour." 

"  Perhaps  V  cried  Mrs.  Todgers  ecstatically.     "  Perhaps  ?" 

"  I  may  say  then,  that  I  was  sure  you  would,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 


96  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

"  I  know  that  you  have  a  little  room  of  your  own,  and  that  they  can  he 
comfortable  there,  without  appearing  at  the  general  table." 

"  Dear  girls  !  "  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  "  I  must  take  that  liberty  once 
more." 

Mrs.  Todgers  meant  by  this  that  she  must  embrace  them  once  more, 
which  she  accordingly  did,  with  great  ardour.  But  the  truth  was,  that, 
the  house  being  full  with  the  exception  of  one  bed,  which  would  now 
be  occupied  by  Mr.  Pecksniff,  she  wanted  time  for  consideration  ;  and 
so  much  time  too  (for  it  was  a  knotty  point  how  to  dispose  of  them), 
that  even  when  this  second  embrace  was  over,  she  stood  for  some 
moments  gazing  at  the  sisters,  with  affection  beaming  in  one  eye,  and 
calculation  shining  out  of  the  other. 

"  I  think  I  know  how  to  arrange  it,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  at  length. 
"  A  sofa  bedstead  in  the  little  third  room  which  opens  from  my  own 
parlour — Oh,  you  dear  girls  !  " 

Thereupon  she  embraced  them  once  more,  observing  that  she  could 
not  decide  which  was  most  like  their  poor  mother  (which  was  highly 
probable  :  seeing  that  she  had  never  beheld  that  lady),  but  that  she 
rather  thought  the  youngest  was  ;  and  then  she  said  that  as  the  gentle- 
men would  be  down  directly,  and  the  ladies  were  fatigued  with  travelling, 
would  they  step  into  her  room  at  once  ? 

It  was  on  the  same  floor  ;  being  in  fact,  the  back  parlour ;  and  had, 
as  Mrs.  Todgers  said,  the  great  advantage  (in  London)  of  not  being 
overlooked  ;  as  they  would  see,  when  the  fog  cleared  ofF.  Nor  was  this 
a  vain-glorious  boast,  for  it  commanded  at  a  perspective  of  two  feet,  a 
brown  wall  with  a  black  cistern  on  the  top.  The  sleeping  apartment 
designed  for  the  young  ladies  was  approached  from  this  chamber  by  a 
mightily  convenient  little  door,  which  would  only  open  when  fallen 
against  by  a  strong  person.  It  commanded  from  a  similar  point  of 
sight  another  angle  of  the  wall,  and  another  side  of  the  cistern.  "  Not 
the  damp  side,"   said  Mrs.  Todgers.     "  That  is  Mr.  Jinkins's." 

In  the  first  of  these  sanctuaries  a  fire  was  speedily  kindled  by  the 
youthful  porter,  who  whistling  at  his  work  in  the  absence  of  Mrs. 
Todgers  (not  to  mention  his  sketching  figures  on  his  corduroys  with 
burnt  firewood),  and  being  afterwards  taken  by  that  lady  in  the  fact, 
was  dismissed  with  a  box  on  his  ears.  Having  prepared  breakfast  for 
the  young  ladies  with  her  own  hands,  she  withdrew  to  preside  in  the  other 
room  ;  where  the  joke  at  Mr.  Jinkins's  expense,  seemed  to  be  proceeding 
rather  noisily. 

"  I  won't  ask  you  yet,  my  dears,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  in  at  the 
door,  "  how  you  like  London.     Shall  I  ? " 

"  We  haven't  seen  much  of  it,  Pa  !  "  cried  Merry. 

"  Nothing,  I  hope,"  said  Cherry.     (Both  very  miserably.) 

"  Indeed,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  that's  true.  We  have  our  pleasure, 
and  our  business  too,  before  us.     All  in  good  time.     All  in  good  time  !  " 

Whether  Mr.  Pecksniff's  business  in  London  was  as  strictly  profes- 
sional as  he  had  given  his  new  pupil  to  understand,  we  shall  see,  ta 
adopt  that  worthy  man's  phraseology,  "  all  in  good  time." 


MARTIN    CHTTZZLEWIT.  97 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TOWN    AND   TODGERS'S. 

Surely  there  never  was,  in  any  other  borough,  city,  or  hamlet  in  the 
world,  such  a  singular  sort  of  a  place  as  Todgers's.  And  surely  London, 
to  judge  from  that  part  of  it  which  hemmed  Todgers's  round,  and 
hustled  it,  and  crushed  it,  and  stuck  its  brick-and-mortar  elbows  into  it, 
and  kept  the  air  from  it,  and  stood  perpetually  between  it  and  the  light, 
was  worthy  of  Todgers's,  and  qualified  to  be  on  terms  of  close  relation- 
ship and  alliance  with  hundreds  and  thousands  of  the  odd  family  to 
which  Todgers's  belonged. 

You  couldn't  walk  about  in  Todgers's  neighbourhood,  as  you  could  in 
any  other  neighbourhood.  You  groped  your  way  for  an  hour  through 
lanes  and  bye- ways,  and  court-yards  and  passages ;  and  never  once  emerged 
upon  anything  that  might  be  reasonably  called  a  street.  A  kind  of 
resigned  distraction  came  over  the  stranger  as  he  trod  those  devious 
mazes,  and,  giving  himself  up  for  lost,  went  in  and  out  and  round  about, 
and  quietly  turned  back  again  when  he  came  to  a  dead  wall  or  was 
stopped  by  an  iron  railing,  and  felt  that  the  means  of  escape  might 
possibly  present  themselves  in  their  own  good  time,  but  that  to  anti- 
cipate them  was  hopeless.  Instances  were  known  of  people  who,  being- 
asked  to  dine  at  Todgers's,  had  travelled  round  and  round  it  for  a  weary 
time,  with  its  very  chimney-pots  in  view  ;  and  finding  it,  at  last,  im- 
possible of  attainment,  had  gone  home  again  with  a  gentle  melancholy 
on  their  spirits,  tranquil  and  uncomplaining.  Nobody  had  ever  found 
Todgers's  on  a  verbal  direction,  though  given  within  a  minute's  walk  of 
it.  Cautious  emigrants  from  Scotland  or  the  North  of  England  had 
been  known  to  reach  it  safely  by  impressing  a  charity-boy,  town-bred, 
and  bringing  him  along  with  him  ;  or  by  clinging  tenaciously  to  the 
postman  ;  but  these  were  rare  exceptions,  and  only  went  to  prove  the 
rule  that  Todgers's  was  in  a  labyrinth,  whereof  the  mystery  was  known 
but  to  a  chosen  few. 

Several  fruit-brokers  had  their  marts  near  Todgers's  ;  and  one  of  the 
first  impressions  wrought  upon  the  stranger's  senses  was  of  oranges — of 
damaged  oranges,  with  blue  and  green  bruises  on  them,  festering  in 
boxes,  or  mouldering  away  in  cellars.  All  day  long,  a  stream  of  porters 
from  the  wharves  beside  the  river,  each  bearing  on  his  back  a  bursting 
chest  of  oranges,  poured  slowly  through  the  narrow  passages  ;  while 
underneath  the  archway  by  the  public-house,  the  knots  of  those  who 
rested  and  regaled  within,  were  piled  from  morning  until  night.  Strange 
solitary  pumps  were  found  near  Todgers's,  hiding  themselves  for 
the  most  part  in  blind  alleys,  and  keeping  company  with  fire-ladders. 
There  were  churches  also  by  dozens,  with  many  a  ghostly  little  church- 
yard, all  overgrown  with  such  straggling  vegetation  as  springs  up 
spontaneously  from  damp,  and  graves,  and  rubbish.  In  some  of  these 
dingy   resting-places,   which   bore  much   the  same   analogy  to   green 

H 


98  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES   OP 

cliurcliyards,  as  the  pots  of  earth  for  mignonette  and  wall-flower  in  the 
windows  overlooking  them,  did  to  rustic  gardens — there  were  trees  ; 
tall  trees  ;  still  putting  forth  their  leaves  in  each  succeeding  year,  with 
such  a  languishing  remembrance  of  their  kind  (so  one  might  fancy, 
looking  on  their  sickly  boughs)  as  birds  in  cages  have  of  theirs.  Here, 
paralysed  old  watchmen  guarded  the  bodies  of  the  dead  at  night,  year 
after  year,  until  at  last  they  joined  that  solemn  brotherhood  ;  and,  saving 
that  they  slept  below  the  ground  a  sounder  sleep  than  even  they  had 
ever  known  above  it,  and  were  shut  up  in  another  kind  of  box,  their 
condition  can  hardly  be  said  to  have  undergone  any  material  change 
when  they,  in  turn,  were  watched  themselves. 

Among  the  narrow  thoroughfares  at  hand,  there  lingered,  here  and 
there,  an  ancient  doorway  of  carved  oak,  from  which,  of  old,  the  sounds 
of  revelry  and  feasting  often  came  ;  but  now  these  mansions,  only  used 
for  storehouses,  were  dark  and  dull,  and,  being  filled  with  wool,  and 
cotton,  and  the  like — such  heavy  merchandise  as  stifles  sound  and  stops 
the  throat  of  echo — had  an  air  of  palpable  deadness  about  them  which, 
added  to  their  silence  and  desertion,  made  them  very  grim.  In  like 
manner,  there  were  gloomy  court-yards  in  these  parts,  into  which  few 
but  belated  wayfarers  ever  strayed,  and  where  vast  bags  and  packs  of 
goods,  upward  or  downward  bound,  were  for  ever  dangling  between 
heaven  and  earth  from  lofty  cranes.  There  were  more  trucks  near 
Todgers's  than  you  would  suppose  a  whole  city  could  ever  need  ;  not 
active  trucks,  but  a  vagabond  race,  for  ever  lounging  in  the  narrow  lanes 
before  their  masters'  doors  and  stopping  up  the  pass  ;  so  that  when  a  stray 
hackney-coach  or  lumbering  waggon  came  that  way,  they  were  the  cause 
of  such  an  uproar  as  enlivened  the  whole  neighbourhood,  and  made  the 
very  bells  in  the  next  church-tower  vibrate  again.  In  the  throats  and 
maws  of  dark  no-thoroughfares  near  Todgers's,  individual  wine-merchants 
and  wholesale  dealers  in  grocery-ware  had  perfect  little  towns  of  their 
own  ;  and,  deep  among  the  very  foundations  of  these  buildings,  the  ground 
was  undermined  and  burrowed  out  into  stables,  where  cart-horses,  troubled 
by  rats,  might  be  heard  on  a  quiet  Sunday  rattling  their  halters,  as  dis- 
turbed spirits  in  tales  of  haunted  houses  are  said  to  clank  their  chains. 

To  tell  of  half  the  queer  old  taverns  that  had  a  drowsy  and  secret 
existence  near  Todgers's,  would  fill  a  goodly  book ;  while  a  second 
volume  no  less  capacious  might  be  devoted  to  an  account  of  the  quaint 
old  guests  who  frequented  their  dimly-lighted  parlours.  These  were,  in 
general,  ancient  inhabitants  of  that  region ;  born,  and  bred  there  from  boy- 
hood ;  who  had  long  since  become  wheezy  and  asthmatical,  and  short  of 
breath,  except  in  the  article  of  story-telling  :  in  which  respect  they 
were  still  marvellously  long-winded.  These  gentry  were  much  opposed 
to  -•  steam  and  all  new-fangled  ways,  and  held  ballooning  to  be  sinful, 
and  deplored  the  degeneracy  of  the  times  ;  which  that  particular  mem- 
ber of  each  little  club  who  kept  the  keys  of  the  nearest  church,  profes- 
sionally, always  attributed  to  the  prevalence  of  dissent  and  irreligion ; 
though  the  major  part  of  the  company  inclined  to  the  belief  that  virtue 
went  out  with  hair-powder,  and  that  old  England's  greatness  had  de- 
cayed amain  with  barbers. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  99 

As  to  Todgers's  itself — speaking  of  it  only  as  a  house  in  that  neigh- 
bourhood, and  making  no  reference  to  its  merits  as  a  commercial  board- 
ing establishment — it  was  worthy  to  stand  where  it  did.  There  was 
one  staircase-window  in  it  :  at  the  side  of  the  house,  on  the  ground - 
floor  :  which  tradition  said  had  not  been  opened  for  a  hundred  years 
at  least,  and  which,  abutting  on  an  always-dirty  lane,  was  so  begrimed 
and  coated  with  a  century's  mud,  that  no  one  pane  of  glass  could  pos- 
sibly fall  out,  though  all  were  cracked  and  broken  twenty  times.  But 
the  grand  mystery  of  Todgers's  was  the  cellarage,  approachable  only  by 
a  little  back  door  and  a  rusty  grating  :  which  cellarage  within  the 
memory  of  man  had  had  no  connexion  with  the  house,  but  had  always 
been  the  freehold  property  of  somebody  else,  and  was  reported  to  be  full 
of  wealth  :  though  in  what  shape — whether  in  silver,  brass,  or  gold,  or 
butts  of  wine,  or  casks  of  gunpowder — was  matter  of  profound  uncertainty 
and  supreme  indifference  to  Todgers's,  and  all  its  inmates. 

The  top  of  the  house  was  worthy  of  notice.  There  was  a  sort  of 
terrace  on  the  roof,  with  posts  and  fragments  of  rotten  lines,  once  in- 
tended to  dry  clothes  upon  ;  and  there  were  two  or  three  tea-chests  out 
there,  full  of  earth,  with  forgotten  plants  in  them,  like  old  walking- 
sticks.  Whoever  climbed  to  this  observatory,  was  stunned  at  first 
from  having  knocked  his  head  against  the  little  door  in  coming  out ; 
and  after  that,  was  for  the  moment  choaked  from  having  looked, 
perforce^  straight  down  the  kitchen  chimney ;  but  these  two  stages  over, 
there  were  things  to  gaze  at  from  the  top  of  Todgers's,  well  worth  your 
seeing  too.  For  first  and  foremost,  if  the  day  were  bright,  you  observed 
upon  the  house-tops,  stretching  far  away,  a  long  dark  path  :  the  shadow 
of  the  Monument  :  and  turnino-  round,  the  tall  original  was  close  beside 
you,  with  every  hair  erect  upon  his  golden  head,  as  if  the  doings  of 
the  city  frightened  him.  Then  there  were  steeples,  towers,  belfreys, 
shining  vanes,  and  masts  of  ships  :  a  very  forest.  Gables,  housetops, 
garret-windows,  wilderness  upon  wilderness.  Smoke  and  noise  enough 
for  all  the  world  at  once. 

After  the  first  glance,  there  w^ere  slight  features  in  the  midst  of  this 
crowd  of  objects,  which  sprung  out  from  the  mass  mthout  any  reason, 
as  it  were,  and  took  hold  of  the  attention  whether  the  spectator  would 
or  no.  Thus,  the  revolving  chimney-pots  on  one  great  stack  of  build- 
ings, seemed  to  be  turning  gravely  to  each  other  every  now  and  then, 
and  whispering  the  result  of  their  separate  observation  of  what  was 
going  on  below.  Others,  of  a  crook-backed  shape,  appeared  to  be 
maliciously  holding  themselves  askew,  that  they  might  shut  the  prospect 
out  and  bafile  Todgers's.  The  man  who  was  mending  a  pen  at  an 
upper  window  over  the  way,  became  of  paramount  importance  in  the 
scene,  and  made  a  blank  in  it,  ridiculously  disproportionate  in  its 
extent,  when  he  retired.  The  gambols  of  a  piece  of  cloth  upon  the 
dyer's  pole  had  far  more  interest  for  the  moment  than  all  the  changing 
motion  of  the  crowd.  Yet  even  while  the  looker-on  felt  angry  with  him- 
self for  this,  and  wondered  how  it  was,  the  tumult  swelled  into  a  roar ; 
the  host  of  objects  seemed  to  thicken  and  expand  a  hundredfold  ;  and 
after  gazing  round  him,  quite  scared,  he  turned  into  Todgers's  again, 

h2 


100  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

much  more  rapidly  than  he  came  out ;  and  ten  to  one  he  told 
M.  Todgers  afterwards  that  if  he  hadn't  done  so,  he  would  certainly 
have  come  into  the  street  by  the  shortest  cut  :  that  is  to  say,  head- 
foremost. 

So  said  the  two  Miss  PecksniiFs,  when  they  retired  with  Mrs.  Todgers 
from  this  place  of  espial,  leaving  the  youthful  porter  to  close  the  door 
and  follow  them  down  stairs  :  who  being  of  a  playful  temperament,  and 
contemplating  with  a  delight  peculiar  to  his  sex  and  time  of  life,  any 
chance  of  dashing  himself  into  small  fragments,  lingered  behind  to  walk 
upon  the  parapet. 

It  being  tlie  second  day  of  their  stay  in  London,  the  Miss  Pecksniffs 
and  Mrs.  Todgers  were  by  this  time  highly  confidential,  insomuch  that 
the  last-named  lady  had  already  communicated  the  particulars  of  three 
early  disappointments  of  a  tender  nature  ;  and  had  furthermore  possessed 
her  young  friends  with  a  general  summary  of  the  life,  conduct,  and 
character  of  Mr.  Todgers  :  who,  it  seemed,  had  cut  his  matrimonial 
career  rather  short,  by  unlawfully  running  away  from  his  happiness,  and 
establishing  himself  in  foreign  countries  as  a  bachelor. 

"  Your  pa  was  once  a  little  particular  in  his  attentions,  my  dears," 
said  Mrs.  Todgers  :  "  but  to  be  your  ma  was  too  much  happiness  denied 
me.     You  'd  hardly  know  who  this  was  done  for,  perhaps  %  " 

She  called  their  attention  to  an  oval  miniature,  like  a  little  blister, 
which  was  tacked  up  over  the  kettle -holder,  and  in  which  there  was  a 
dreamy  shadowing  forth  of  her  own  visage. 

"  It's  a  speaking  likeness  !  "  cried  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs. 

"  It  was  considered  so  once,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  warming  herself  in  a 
gentlemanly  manner  at  the  fire  :  "  but  I  hardly  thought  you  would  have 
known  it,  my  loves." 

They  would  have  known  it  anywhere.  If  they  could  have  met  with 
it  in  the  street,  or  seen  it  in  a  shop  window,  they  would  have  cried, 
"  Good  Gracious !   Mrs.  Todgers  ! " 

"  Presiding  over  an  establishment  like  this,  makes  sad  havoc  with  the 
features,  my  dear  Miss  Pecksniffs,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  "The  gravy 
alone,  is  enough  to  add  twenty  years  to  one's  age,  I  do  assure  you." 

"  Lor  !  "  cried  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs. 

"  The  anxiety  of  that  one  item,  my  dears,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers, 
"  keeps  the  mind  continually  upon  the  stretch.  There  is  no  such 
passion  in  human  nature,  as  the  passion  for  gravy  among  commercial 
gentlemen.  It's  nothing  to  say  a  joint  won't  yield — a  whole  animal 
wouldn't  yield — the  amount  of  gravy  they  expect  each  day  at  dinner. 
And  what  I  have  undergone  in  consequence,"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  raising 
her  eyes  and  shaking  her  head,  "  no  one  would  believe  !  " 

"  Just  like  Mr.  Pinch,  Merry  !  "  said  Charity.  "  We  have  always 
noticed  it  in  him,  you  remember  'l  " 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  giggled  Merry,  "  but  we  have  never  given  it  him, 
you  know." 

"  You  my  dears,  having  to  deal  with  your  pa's  pupils  who  can't  help 
themselves,  are  able  to  take  your  own  way,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  but  in 
a  commercial  establishment,  where  any  gentleman  may  say,  any  Saturday 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  101 

evening,  '  Mrs.  Todgers,  this  day  week  we  part,  in  consequence  of  the 
cheese,'  it  is  not  so  easy  to  preserve  a  pleasant  understanding.  Your  pa 
was  kind  enough,"  added  the  good  lady,  "  to  invite  me  to  take  a  ride 
with  you  to-day  ;  and  I  think  he  mentioned  that  you  were  going  to  call 
upon  Miss  Pinch.  Any  rehition  to  the  gentleman  you  were  speaking  of 
just  now.  Miss  Pecksniff?" 

"  For  goodness  sake,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  interposed  the  lively  Merry,  "don't 
call  him  a  gentleman.  My  dear  Cherry,  Pinch  a  gentleman  !  The 
idea!" 

"What  a  wicked  girl  you  are  !"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  embracing  her 
with  great  affection.  "  You're  quite  a  quiz  I  do  declare  !  My  dear 
Miss  Pecksniff,  what  a  happiness  your  sister's  spirits  must  be  to  your 
pa  and  self!",. 

"  He's  the  most  hideous,  goggle-eyed  creature,  Mrs.  Todgers,  in 
existence,"  resumed  Merry  :  "  quite  an  ogre.  The  ugliest,  awkwardest, 
frightfullest  being,  you  can  imagine.  This  is  his  sister,  so  I  leave  you 
to  suppose  what  she  is.  I  shall  be  obliged  to  laugh  outright,  I  know  I 
shall  !"  cried  the  charming  girl,  "  I  never  shall  be  able  to  keep  my 
countenance.  The  notion  of  a  Miss  Pinch  presuming  to  exist  at  all  is 
sufficient  to  kill  one,  but  to  see  her — oh  my  stars  !" 

Mrs.  Todgers  laughed  immensely  at  the  dear  love's  humour,  and  declared 
she  was  quite  afraid  of  her,  that  she  was.      She  was  so  very  severe. 

"  Who  is  severe  '?"  cried  a^voice  at  the  door.  "  There  is  no  such  thing 
as  severity  in  our  family,  I  hope  ! "  And  then  Mr.  Pecksniff  peeped 
smilingly  into  the  room,  and  said,  "  May  I  come  in,  Mrs.  Todgers  1 " 

Mrs.  Todgers  almost  screamed,  for  the  little  door  of  communication 
between  that  room  and  the  inner  one  being  wide  open,  there  was  a  full 
disclosure  of  the  sofa  bedstead  in  all  its  monstrous  impropriety.  But  she 
had  the  presence  of  mind  to  close  this  portal  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  ; 
and  having  done  so,  said,  though  not  without  confusion,  "  Oh  yes,  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  you  can  come  in,  if  you  please." 

"  How  are  we  to-day,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  jocosely  ;  "  and  what  are 
our  plans  ?  Are  we  ready  to  go  and  see  Tom  Pinch's  sister  '?  Ha,  ha, 
ha  !     Poor  Thomas  Pinch  !" 

"  Are  we  ready,"  returned  Mrs.  Todgers,  nodding  her  head  with 
mysterious  intelligence,  "  to  send  a  favourable  reply  to  Mr.  Jinkins's 
round-robin  1     That's  the  first  question,  Mr.  Pecksniff." 

"Why  Mr.  Jinkins's  robin,  my  dear  madam  ?"  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
putting  one  arm  round  Mercy,  and  the  other  round  Mrs.  Todgers,  whom 
he  seemed,  in  the  abstraction  of  the  moment,  to  mistake  for  Charity. 
"Why  Mr.  Jinkins's  f' 

"  Because  he  began  to  get  it  up,  and  indeed  always  takes  the  lead  in 
the  house,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  playfully.      "  That's  why,  sir." 

"'  Jinkins  is  a  man  of  superior  talents,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  I 
have  conceived  a  great  regard  for  Jinkins.  I  take  Jinkins's  desire  to 
pay  polite  attention  to  my  daughters,  as  an  additional  proof  of  the 
friendly  feeling  of  Jinkins,  Mrs.  Todgers." 

"  Well  now,"  returned  that  lady,  "  having  said  so  much,  you  must  say 
the  rest,  Mr.  Pecksniff :  so  tell  the  dear  young  ladies  all  about  it." 


102  ■    LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

With  tliese  words,  she  gently  eluded  Mr.  Pecksniff's  grasp,  and  took 
Miss  Charity  into  her  own  embrace  ;  though  whether  she  was  impelled  to 
this  proceeding  solely  by  the  irrepressible  affection  she  had  conceived  for 
that  young  lady,  or  whether  it  had  any  reference  to  a  lowering,  not  to 
say  distinctly  spiteful  expression  which  had  been  visible  in  her  face  for 
some  moments,  has  never  been  exactly  ascertained.  Be  this  as  it  may, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  went  on  to  inform  his  daughters  of  the  purport  and  history 
of  the  round-robin  aforesaid,  which  was  in  brief,  that  the  commercial 
gentlemen  who  helped  to  make  up  the  sum  and  substance  of  that  noun 
of  multitude  or  signifying  many,  called  Todgers's,  desired  the  honour  of 
their  presence  at  the  general  table,  so  long  as  they  remained  in  the 
house,  and  besought  that  they  would  grace  the  board  at  dinner-time 
next  day,  the  same  being  Sunday,  He  further  said,  that  Mrs.  Todgers 
being  a  consenting  party  to  this  invitation,  he  was  willing,  for  his  part, 
to  accept  it ;  and  so  left  them  that  he  might  write  his  gracious  answer, 
the  while  they  armed  themselves  with  their  best  bonnets  for  the  utter 
defeat  and  overthrow  of  Miss  Pinch. 

Tom  Pinch's  sister  was  governess  in  a  family,  a  lofty  family  ;  perhaps 
the  wealthiest  brass  and  copper  founders'  family  known  to  mankind. 
They  lived  at  Camberwell ;  in  a  house  so  big  and  fierce  that  its  mere 
outside,  like  the  outside  of  a  giant's  castle,  struck  terror  into  vulgar 
minds  and  made  bold  persons  quail.  There  was  a  great  front  gate  ; 
with  a  great  bell,  whose  handle  was  in  itself  a  note  of  admiration  ;  and 
a  great  lodge  ;  which  being  close  to  the  house,  rather  spoilt  the  look-out 
certainly,  but  made  the  look-in,  tremendous.  At  this  entry,  a  great 
porter  kept  constant  watch  and  ward ;  and  when  he  gave  the  visitor 
high  leave  to  pass,  he  rang  a  second  great  bell,  responsive  to  whose 
note  a  great  footman  appeared  in  due  time  at  the  great  hall-door,  with 
such  great  tags  upon  his  liveried  shoulder  that  he  was  perpetually 
entangling  and  hooking  himself  among  the  chairs  and  tables,  and  led 
a  life  of  torment  which  could  scarcely  have  been  surpassed,  if  he  had 
been  a  blue-bottle  in  a  world  of  cobwebs. 

To  this  mansion,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  accompanied  by  his  daughters  and 
Mrs.  Todgers,  drove  gallantly  in  a  one-horse  fly.  The  foregoing  cere- 
monies having  been  all  performed,  they  were  ushered  into  the  house ; 
and  so,  by  degrees,  they  got  at  last  into  a  small  room  with  books  in  it, 
where  Mr.  Pinch's  sister  was  at  that  moment,  instructing  her  eldest 
pupil  :  to  wit,  a  premature  little  woman  of  thirteen  years  old,  who  had 
already  arrived  at  such  a  pitch  of  whalebone  and  education  that  she  had 
nothing  girlish  about  her,  which  was  a  source  of  great  rejoicing  to  all 
her  relations  and  friends. 

"  Visitors  for  Miss  Pinch  !  "  said  the  footman.  He  must  have  been  an 
ingenious  young  man,  for  he  said  it  very  cleverly  :  with  a  nice  discrimi- 
nation between  the  cold  respect  with  which  he  would  have  announced 
visitors  to  the  family,  and  the  warm  personal  interest  with  which  he 
would  have  announced  visitors  to  the  cook. 

"  Visitors  for  Miss  Pinch  !  " 

Miss  Pinch  rose  hastily;  with  such  tokens  of  agitation  as  plainly  declared 
that  her  list  of  callers  was  not  numerous.     At  the  same  time,  the  little 


-.  yf^Aj '  y^yp/x-'A/: 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  103 

pupil  became  alarmingly  upright,  and  prepared  herself  to  take  mental 
notes  of  all  that  might  be  said  and  done.  For  the  lady  of  the  establish- 
ment was  curious  in  the  natural  history  and  habits  of  the  animal  called 
Governess,  and  encouraged  her  daughters  to  report  thereon  whenever 
occasion  served  ;  which  was,  in  reference  to  all  parties  concerned,  very 
laudable,  improving,  and  pleasant. 

It  is  a  melancholy  fact ;  but  it  must  be  related,  that  Mr.  Pinch's 
sister  was  not  at  all  ugly.  On  the  contrary,  she  had  a  good  face  ;  a  very 
mild  and  prepossessing  face  ;  and  a  pretty  little  figure — slight  and  short, 
but  remarkable  for  its  neatness.  There  was  something  of  her  brother, 
much  of  him  indeed,  in  a  certain  gentleness  of  manner,  and  in  her  look 
of  timid  trustfulness  ;  but  she  was  so  far  from  being  a  fright,  or  a 
dowdy,  or  a  horror,  or  anything  else,  predicted  by  the  two  Miss  Peck- 
sniffs, that  those  young  ladies  naturally  regarded  her  with  great  indigna- 
tion, feeling  that  this  Avas  by  no  means  what  they  had  come  to  see. 

Miss  Mercy,  as  having  the  larger  share  of  gaiety,  bore  up  the  best 
against  this  disappointment,  and  carried  it  off,  in  outward  show  at  least, 
with  a  titter  ;  but  her  sister,  not  caring  to  hide  her  disdain,  expressed 
it  pretty  openly  in  her  looks.  As  to  Mrs.  Todgers,  she  leaned  on 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  arm  and  preserved  a  kind  of  genteel  grimness,  suitable  to 
any  state  of  mind,  and  involving  any  shade  of  opinion. 

"  Don't  be  alarmed  Miss  Pinch,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking  her  hand 
condescendingly  in  one  of  his,  and  patting  it  with  the  other.  "  I  have 
called  to  see  you,  in  pursuance  of  a  promise  given  to  your  brother, 
Thomas  Pinch.  My  name — compose  yourself.  Miss  Pinch — is  Pecksniff." 

The  good  man  emphasized  these  words  as  though  he  would  have  said, 
*  You  see  in  me,  young  person,  the  benefactor  of  your  race  ;  the  patron 
of  your  house ;  the  preserver  of  your  brother,  who  is  fed  with  manna  daily 
from  my  table  ;  and  in  right  of  whom  there  is  a  considerable  balance  in 
my  favour  at  present  standing  in  the  books  beyond  the  sky.  But  I 
have  no  pride,  for  I  can  afford  to  do  without  it ! ' 

The  poor  girl  felt  it  all  as  if  it  had  been  Gospel  Truth.  Her  brother 
writing  in  the  fulness  of  his  simple  heart,  had  often  told  her  so,  and 
how  much  more  !  As  Mr.  Pecksniff  ceased  to  speak,  she  hung  her  head, 
and  dropped  a  tear  upon  his  hand. 

"  Oh  very  well,  Miss  Pinch  ! "  thought  the  sharp  pupil,  "  crying  before 
strangers,  as  if  you  didn't  like  the  situation  !" 

"  Thomas  is  well,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff ;  "  and  sends  his  love  and  this 
letter.  I  cannot  say,  poor  fellow,  that  he  will  ever  be  distinguished  in 
our  profession  ;  but  he  has  the  will  to  do  well,  which  is  the  next  thing 
to  having  the  power  ;  and,  therefore,  we  must  bear  with  him.     Eh  ?  " 

"  I  know  he  has  the  will,  sir,"  said  Tom  Pinch's  sister,  "  and  I  know 
how  kindly  and  considerately  you  cherish  it,  for  which  neither  he  nor  I 
can  ever  be  grateful  enough,  as  we  very  often  say  in  writing  to  each 
other.  The  young  ladies  too,"  she  added,  glancing  gratefully  at  his  two 
daughters,  "  I  know  how  much  we  owe  to  them." 

"  My  dears,"  said  Mr,  Pecksniff,  turning  to  them  with  a  smile  : 
"  Thomas's  sister  is  saying  something  you  will  be  glad  to  hear,  I  think." 

"  We  can't  take  any  merit  to  ourselves,  papa  !"  cried  Cherry,  as  they 


104  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

both  apprised  Tom  Pinch's  sister,  with  a  curtsey,  that  they  would  feel 
obliged  if  she  would  keep  her  distance.  "  Mr.  Pinch's  being  so  well 
provided  for  is  owing  to  you  alone,  and  we  can  only  say  ho^y  _glad  we  are 
to  hear  that  he  is  as  grateful  as  he  ought  to  be." 

"  Oh  very  ',well.  Miss  Pinch  !  "  thought  the  pupil  again.  "  Got  a 
grateful  brother,  living  on  other  people's  kindness  !  " 

"  It  was  very  kind  of  you,"  said  Tom  Pinch's  sister,  with  Tom's  own 
simplicity,  and  Tom's  own  smile,  "  to  come  hete  :  very  kind  indeed  : 
though  how  great  a  kindn^ess  you  have  done  me  in '  gratifying  my  wish 
to  see  you,  and  to  thank  you  with  my  own  lips,  you,  who  make  so  light 
of  benefits  conferred,  can  "scarcely  think." 

"  Very  grateful ;  very  pleasant ;  very  proper,"  murmured  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  It  makes  me  happy  too,"  said  Ruth  Pinch,  who  now  that  her  first 
surprise  was  oyer,  had  a  chatty,  cheerful  way  with  her,  and  a  single- 
hearted  desire  to  look  upon  the  best  side  of  everything,  which  was  the 
very  moral  and  image  of  Tom  ;  "  very  happy  to  think  that  you  will  be 
able  to  tell  him  how  more  than  comfortably  I  am  situated  here,  and  how 
unnecessary  it  is  that  he  should  ever  waste  a  regret  on  my  being  cast  upon 
my  own  resources.  Dear  me  !  So  long  as  I  heard  that  he  was  happy, 
and  he  heard  that  I  was,"  said  Tom's  sister,  "  we  could  both  bear,  with- 
out one  impatient  or  complaining  thought,  a  great  deal  more  than  ever 
we  have  had  to  endure,  I  am  very  certain."  And  if  ever  the  plain  truth 
were  spoken  on  this  occasionally  false  earth,  Tom's  sister  spoke  it  when 
she  said  that. 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  whose  eyes  had  in  the  mean  time  wan- 
dered to  the  pupil ;  "  certainly.  And  how  do  ?/ou  do,  my  very  interest- 
ing child  ^1" 

"  Quite  well,  I  thank  you,  sir,"  replied  that  frosty  innocent. 

"  A  sweet  face  this,  my  dears,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turning  to  his 
daughters.     "  A  charming  manner  !  " 

Both  young  ladies  had  been  in  ecstacies  with  the  scion  of  a  wealthy 
house  (through  whom  the  nearest  road  and  shortest  cut  to  her  parents 
might  be  supposed  to  lie)  from  the  first.  Mrs.  Todgers  vowed  that 
anything  one  quarter  so  angelic  she  had  never  seen.  "  She  wanted 
but  a  pair  of  wings,  a  dear,"  said  that  good  woman,  "  to  be  a  young 
syrup," — meaning,  possibly,  young  sylph,  or  seraph. 

"  If  you  will  give  that  to  your  distinguished  parents,  my  amiable 
little  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  producing  one  of  his  professional 
cards,  "  and  will  say  that  I  and  my  daughters — " 

"  And  Mrs.  Todgers,  pa,"  said  Merry. 

"And  Mrs.  Todgers,  of  London,"  added  Mr.  Pecksniff;  "that  I, 
and  my  daughters,  and  Mrs.  Todgers  of  London,  did  not  intrude  upon 
them,  as  our  object  simply  was  to  take  some  notice  of  Miss  Pinch,  whose 
brother  is  a  young  man  in  my  employment ;  but  that  I  could  not  leave 
this  very  chaste  mansion,  without  adding  my  humble  tribute,  as  an 
Architect,  to  the  correctness  and  elegance  of  the  owner's  taste,  and  to 
his  just  appreciation  of  that  beautiful  art,  to  the  cultivation  of  which  I 
have  devoted  a  life,  and  to  the  promotion  of  whose  glory  and  advance- 
ment I  have  sacrificed  a — a  fortune — I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to 

you," 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  105 

"  Missises  compiiments  to  Miss  Pinch,"  said  the  footman,  suddenly 
appearing,  and  speaking  in  exactly  the  same  key  as  before,  "  and  begs 
to  know  wot  my  young  lady  is  a  learning  of  just  now." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  here  is  the  young  man.  He  will  take 
the  card.  With  my  compliments,  if  you  please,  young  man.  My  dears, 
we  are  interrupting  the  studies.     Let  us  go." 

Some  confusion  was  occasioned  for  an  instant  by  Mrs.  Todgers's 
unstrapping  her  little  flat  hand-basket,  and  hurriedly  entrusting  the 
"youngman"  with  one  of  her  own  cards,  which,  in  addition  to  -certain 
detailed  information  relative  to  the  terms  of  the  commercial  establish- 
ment, bore  a  foot-note  to  the  effect  that  M.  T.  took  that  opportunity  of 
thanking  those  gentlemen  who  had  honoured  hier  with  their  favours, 
and  begged  that  they  would  have  the  goodness,  if  satisfied  with  the 
table,  to  recommend  her  to  their  friends.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with 
admirable  presence  of  mind,  recovered  this  document,  and  buttoned  it 
up  in  his  own  pocket. 

Then  he  said  to  Miss  Pinch — with  more  condescension  and  kindness 
than  ever,  for  it  was  desirable  the  footman  should  expressly  understand 
that  they  were  not  friends  of  hers,  but  patrons  : 

"  Good  morning.  Good  bye,  God  bless  you  !  You  may  depend 
upon  my  continued  protection  of  your  brother  Thomas.  Keep  your  mind 
quite  at  ease,  Miss  Pinch  ! " 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Tom's  sister  heartily  :  "  a  thousand  times." 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  retorted,  patting  her  gently  on  the  head.  "  Don't 
mention  it.  You  will  make  me  angry  if  you  do.  My  sweet  child  " — ■ 
to  the  pupil,  "  farewell  !  That  fairy  creature,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
looking  in  his  pensive  mood  hard  at  the  footman,  as  if  he  meant  him, 
"  has  shed  a  vision  on  my  path,  refulgent  in  its  nature,  and  not  easily 
to  be  obliterated.     My  dears,  are  you  ready '] " 

They  were  not  quite  ready  yet,  for  they  were  still  caressing  the  pupil. 
But  they  tore  themselves  away  at  length';  and  sweeping  past  Miss 
Pinch  with  each  a  haughty  inclination  of  the  head  and  a  curtsey 
strangled  in  its  birth,  flounced  into  the  passage. 

The  young  man  had  rather  a  long  job  in  showing  them  out ;  fipr  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  delight  in  the  tastefulness  of  the  house  was  such  that  he  could 
not  help  often  stopping  (particularly  when  they  were,  near  the  parlour 
door)  and  giving  it  expression,  in  a  loud  voice  and  very  learned  terms. 
Indeed,  he  delivered,  between  the  study  and  the  hall,  a  familiar  exposition 
of  the  whole  science  of  architecture"  as  applied  to  dwelling-houses,  and 
was  yet  in  the  freshness  of  his  eloquence  when  they  reached  the 
garden. 

"  If  you  look,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  backing  from  the  steps,  with  his 
head  on  one  side  and  his  eyes  half-shut  that  he  might  the  better  take  in 
the  proportions  of  the  exterior  :  "  If  you  look,  my  dears,  at  the  cornice 
which  supports  the  roof,  and  observe  the  airiness  of  its  construction, 
especially  where  it  sweeps  the  southern  angle  of  the  building,  you  will 
feel  with  me—  How  do  you  do,  sir  %  I  hope  you're  well !" 

Interrupting  himself  with  these  words,  he  very  politely  bowed  to  a 
middle-aged  gentleman  at  an  upper  window,  to  whom  he  spoke,  not 


106  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

because  tlie  gentleman  could  hear  him  (for  he  certainly  could  not),  but 
as  an  appropriate  accompaniment  to  his  salutation. 

"  I  have  no  doubt,  my  dears,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  feigning  to  point  out 
other  beauties  with  his  hand,  "  that  that  is  the  proprietor.  I  should  be 
glad  to  know  him.  It  might  lead  to  something.  Is  he  looking  this 
-way.  Charity  ?" 

"  He  is  opening  the  window,  pa  !" 

"Ha,  ha  !"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  softly.  "  All  right  !  He  has  found 
I'm  professional.  He  heard  me  inside  just  now,  I  have  no  doubt.  Don't 
look  !     With  regard  to  the  fluted  pillars  in  the  portico,  my  dears — ^" 

"  Hallo  ! "  cried  the  gentleman. 

"  Sir,  your  servant !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking  off  his  hat  :  "  I  am 
proud  to  make  your  acquaintance." 

"  Come  off  the  grass,  will  you  !"  roared  the  gentleman. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  doubtful  of  his  having 
heard  aright.     "  Did  you —  1 " 

"  Come  off  the  grass ! "  repeated  the  gentleman,  warmly. 

"  We  are  unwilling  to  intrude,  sir,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  smilingly  began. 

"  But  you  «re  intruding,"  returned  the  other,  "  unwarrantably 
intruding — trespassing.  You  see  a  gravel  walk,  don't  you  1  What  do 
you  think  it 's  meant  for  1  Open  the  gate  there  !  Show  that  party  out  1'* 

With  that,  he  clapped  down  the  window  again,  and  disappeared. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  put  on  his  hat,  and  walked  with  great  deliberation  and 
in  profound  silence  to  the  fly,  gazing  at  the  clouds  as  he  went,  with  great 
interest.  After  helping  his  daughters  and  Mrs.  Todgers  into  that  con- 
veyance, he  stood  looking  at  it  for  some  moments,  as  if  he  were  not  quite 
certain  whether  it  was  a  carriage  or  a  temple  ;  but,  having  settled  this 
point  in  his  mind,  he  got  into  his  place,  spread  his  hands  out  on  his 
knees,  and  smiled  upon  the  three  beholders. 

But  his  daughters,  less  tranquil-minded,  burst  into  a  torrent  of  indigna- 
tion. This  came,  they  said,  of  cherishing  such  creatures  as  the  Pinches. 
This  came  of  lowering  themselves  to  their  level.  This  came  of  putting 
themselves  in  the  humiliating  position  of  seeming  to  know  such  bold, 
audacious,  cunning,  dreadful  girls  as  that.  They  had  expected  this. 
They  had  predicted  it  to  Mrs.  Todgers,  as  she  (Todgers)  could  depone, 
that  very  morning.  To  this  they  added,  that  the  owner  of  the  house, 
supposingthem  to  be  Miss  Pinch's  friends,  had  acted,  in  their  opinion,  quite 
correctly,  and  had  done  no  more  than,  under  such  circumstances,  might 
reasonably  have  been  expected.  To  that  they  added  (with  a  trifling 
inconsistency),  that  he  was  a  brute  and  a  bear  ;  and  then  they  merged 
into  a  flood  of  tears,  which  swept  away  all  wandering  epithets  before  it. 

Perhaps  Miss  Pinch  was  scarcely  so  much  to  blame  in  the  matter  as 
the  Seraph,  who,  immediately  on  the  withdrawal  of  the  visitors,  had 
hastened  to  report  them  at  head-quarters,  with  a  full  account  of  their 
having  presumptuously  charged  her  with  the  delivery  of  a  message 
afterwards  consigned  to  the  footman  ;  which  outrage,  taken  in  con- 
junction with  Mr.  Pecksniff's  unobtrusive  remarks  on  the  establishment, 
might  possibly  have  had  some  share  in  their  dismissal.  Poor  Miss  Pinch, 
however,  had  to  bear  the  brunt  of  it  with  both  parties :  being  so  severely 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  107 

taken  to  task  by  the  Seraph's  mother  for  having  such  vulgar  ac- 
quaintances, that  she  was  fain  to  retire  'to  her  own  room  in  tears,  which 
her  natural  cheerfulness  and  submission,  and  the  delight  of  having  seen 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  having  received  a  letter  from  her  brother,  were  at  first 
insufficient  to  repress. 

As  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  he  told  them  in  the  flj,  that  a  good  action  was 
its  own  reward  ;  and  rather  gave  them  to  understand,  that  if  he  could 
have  been  kicked  in  such  a  cause,  he  would  have  liked  it  all  the  better. 
But  this  was  no  comfort  to  the  young  ladies,  who  scolded  violently  the 
whole  way  back,  and  even  exhibited,  more  than  once,  a  keen  desire  to 
attack  the  devoted  Mrs.  Todgers  :  on  whose  personal  appearance,  but 
particularly  on  whose  offending  card  and  hand-basket,  they  were  secretly 
inclined  to  lay  the  blame  of  half  their  failure. 

Todgers's  was  in  a  great  bustle  that  evening,  partly  owing  to  some 
additional  domestic  preparations  for  the  morrow,  and  partly  to  the 
excitement  always  inseparable  in  that  house  from  Saturday  night,  when 
€very  gentleman's  linen  arrived  at  a  different  hour  in  its  own  little 
bundle,  with  his  private  account  pinned  on  the  outside.  There  was 
always  a  great  clinking  of  pattens  down  stairs,  too,  until  midnight  or  so, 
on  Saturdays  ;  together  with  a  frequent  gleaming  of  mysterious  lights 
in  the  area;  much  working  at  the  pump;  and  a  constant  jangling  of  the 
iron  handle  of  the  pail.  Shrill  altercations  from  time  to  time  arose 
between  Mrs.  Todgers  and  unknown  females  in  remote  back  kitchens  ; 
and  sounds  were  occasionally  heard  indicative  of  small  articles  of  iron- 
mongery and  hardware  being  thrown  at  the  boy.  It  was  the  custom  of 
that  youth  on  Saturdays,  to  roll  up  his  shirt  sleeves  to  his  shoulders, 
and  pervade  all  parts  of  the  house  in  an  apron  of  coarse  green  baize ; 
moreover,  he  was  more  strongly  tempted  on  Saturdays  than  on  other 
days  (it  being  a  busy  time),  to  make  excursive  bolts  into  the  neigh- 
bouring alleys  when  he  answered  the  door,  and  there  to  play  at  leap- 
frog and  other  sports  with  vagrant  lads,  until  pursued  and  brought  back 
by  the  hair  of  his  head,  or  the  lobe  of  his  ear ;  so  that  he  was  quite  a 
conspicuous  feature  among  the  peculiar  incidents  of  the  last  day  in  the 
week  at  Todgers's. 

He  was  especially  so,  on  this  particular  Saturday  evening,  and 
honoured  the  Miss  Pecksniffs  with  a  deal  of  notice  ;  seldom  passing  the 
door  of  Mrs,  Todgers's  private  room,  where  they  sat  alone  before  the 
fire,  working  by  the  light  of  a  solitary  candle,  without  putting  in  his 
head  and  greeting  them  with  some  such  compliments  as,  "  There  you  are 
agin  !  "     "  An't  it  nice  1 " — and  similar  humorous  attentions. 

"I  say,"  he  whispered,  stopping  in  one  of  his  journeys  to  and  fro, 
*•  young  ladies,  there's  soup  to-morrow.  She's  a  making  it  now.  An't 
she  a  putting  in  the  water  1  Oh  !  not  at  all  neither  ! " 

In  the  course  of  answering  another  knock,  he  thrust  in  his  head  again. 

"I  say — there's  fowls  to-morrow.     Not  skinny  ones.     Oh  no!" 

Presently  he  called  through  the  key-hole, 

"  There's  a  fish  to-morrow — ^just  come.  Don't  eat  none  of  him  !  "  and, 
vnih  this  spectral  warning,  vanished  again. 

Bye  and  bye,  he  returned  to  lay  the  cloth  for  supper  :  it  having  been 


108  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

arranged  between  Mrs.  Todgers  and  tlie  young  ladies,  that  tliey  sliould 
partake  of  an  exclusive  veal-cutlet  together  in  the  privacy  of  that  apart- 
ment. He  entertained  them  on  this  occasion  by  thrusting  the  lighted 
candle  into  his  mouth,  and  exhibiting  his  face  in  a  state  of  transparency  ; 
after  the  performance  of  which  feat,  he  went  on  with  his  professional 
duties  ;  brightening  every  knife  as  he  laid  it  on  the  table,  by  breathing 
on  the  blade  and  afterwards  polishing  the  same  on  the  apron  already 
mentioned.  When  he  had  completed  his  preparations,  he  grinned  at 
the  sisters,  and  expressed  his  belief  that  the  approaching  collation  would 
be  of  "  rather  a  spicy  sort." 

"  Will  it  be  long  before  it's  ready,  Bailey  ? "  asked  Mercy. 

"  No,"  said  Bailey,  "  it  is  cooked.  When  I  come  up,  she  was  dodging 
among  the  tender  pieces  with  a  fork,  and  eating  of  'em." 

But  he  had  scarcely  achieved  the  utterance  of  these  words,  when  he 
received  a  manual  compliment  on  the  head,  which  sent  him  staggering 
against  the  wallj  and  Mrs.  Todgers,  dish  in  hand,  stood  indignantly 
before  him. 

"  Oh  you  little  villain  !  "  said  that  lady.     "  Oh  you  bad,  false  boy  ! " 

"  No  worse  than  yeself,"  retorted  Bailey,  guarding  his  head,  on  a 
principle  invented  by  Mr.  Thomas  Cribb.  "  Ah  !  Come  now  !  Do  that 
agin,  will  yer  ! " 

"  He's  the  most  dreadful  child,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  setting  down  the 
dish,  "  I  ever  had  to  deal  with.  The  gentlemen  spoil  him  to  that 
extent,  and  teach  him  such  things,  that  I'm  afraid  nothing  but  hanging 
will  ever  do  him  any  good." 

"  Won't  it  ? "  cried  Bailey.  "  Oh  !  Yes  !  Wot  do  you  go  a  lowerin 
the  table  for  then,  and  destroying  my  constitooshun  V 

"Go  down  stairs,  you  vicious  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  holding  the 
door  open.     "  Do  you  hear  me  1  Go  along  !  " 

After  two  or  three  dexterous  feints,  he  went,  and  was  seen  no  more 
that  night,  save  once,  when  he  brought  up  some  tumblers  and  hot 
water,  and  much  disturbed  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  by  squinting 
hideously  behind  the  back  of  the  unconscious  Mrs.  Todgers.  Having 
done  this  justice  to  his  wounded  feelings,  he  retired  underground  ; 
where,  in  company  with  a  swarm  of  black  beetles  and  a  kitchen  candle, 
he  employed  his  faculties  in  cleaning  boots  and  brushing  clothes  until 
the  night  was  far  advanced. 

Benjamin  was  supposed  to  be  the  real  name  of  this  young  retainer, 
but  he  was  known  by  a  great  variety  of  names.  Benjamin,  for  instance, 
had  been  converted  into  Uncle  Ben,  and  that  again  had  been  corrupted 
into  Uncle  ;  which,  by  an  easy  transition,  had  again  passed  into  Barn- 
well, in  memory  of  the  celebrated  relative  in  that  degree  who  was  shot 
by  his  nephew  George,  while  meditating  in  his  garden  at  Camberwell. 
The  gentlemen  at  Todgers's  had  a  merry  habit,  too,  of  bestowing  upon 
him,  for  the  time  being,  the  name  of  any  notorious  malefactor  or 
minister;  and  sometimes,  when  current  events  were  flat,  they  even 
sought  the  pages  of  history  for  these  distinctions  ;  as  Mr.  Pitt,  Young 
Brownrigg,  and  the  like.  At  the  period  of  which  we  write,  he  was  gene- 
rally known  among  the  gentlemen  as  Bailey  junior  ;  a  name  bestowed 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  109 

upon  him  in  contradistinction,  perhaps,  to  Old  Bailey  ;  and  possibly  as 
involving  the  recollection  of  an  unfortunate  lady  of  the  same  name,  who 
perished  by  her  own  hand  early  in  life,  and  has  been  immortalised  in  a 
ballad. 

The  usual  Sunday  dinner-hour  at  Todgers's  was  two  o'clock, — a  suit- 
able time,  it  was  considered,  for  all  parties  ;  convenient  to  Mrs.  Todgers, 
on  account  of  the  baker's  ;  and  convenient  to  the  gentlemen,  with  refer- 
ence to  their  afternoon  engagements.  But  on  the  Sunday  which  was  to 
introduce  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  to  a  full  knowledge  of  Todgers's  and 
its  society,  the  dinner  was  postponed  until  five,  in  order  that  everything 
might  be  as  genteel  as  the  occasion  demanded. 

When  the  hour  drew  nigh,  Bailey  junior,  testifying  great  excitement, 
appeared  in  a  complete  suit  of  cast-off  clothes  several  sizes  too  large  for 
him,  and  in  particular,  mounted  a  clean  shirt  of  such  extraordinary 
magnitude,  that  one  of  the  gentlemen  (remarkable  for  his  ready  wit) 
called  him  "  collars"  on  the  spot.  At  about  a  quarter  before  five,  a 
deputation,  consisting  of  Mr.  Jinkins,  and  another  gentleman  whose 
name  was  Gander,  knocked  at  the  door  of  Mrs.  Todgers's  room,  and,  being 
formally  introduced  to  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  by  their  parent,  who  was 
in  waiting,  besought  the  honour  of  conducting  them  up  stairs. 

The  drawing-room  at  Todgers's  was  out  of  the  common  style  ;  so 
much  so  indeed,  that  you  would  hardly  have  taken  it  to  be  a  drawing- 
room,  unless  you  were  told  so  by  somebody  who  was  in  the  secret.  It 
was  floor-clothed  all  over;  and  the  ceiling,  including  a  great  beam  in 
the  middle,  was  papered.  Besides  the  three  little  windows,  with  seats 
in  them,  commanding  the  opposite  archway,  there  was  another  window 
looking  point  blank,  without  any  compromise  at  all  about  it,  into 
Jinkins's  bed-room  ;  and  high  up  all  along  one  side  ot  the  wall  was  a 
strip  of  panes  of  glass,  two-deep,  giving  light  to  the  staircase.  There 
were  the  oddest  closets  possible,  with  little  casements  in  them  like 
eight-day  clocks,  lurking  in  the  Avainscot  and  taking  the  shape  of 
the  stairs  ;  and  the  very  door  itself  (which  was  painted  black)  had 
two  great  glass  eyes  in  its  forehead,  with  an  inquisitive  green  pupil  in 
the  middle  of  each. 

Here  the  gentlemen  were  all  assembled.  There  was  a  general  cry  of 
"  Hear,  Hear  ! "  and  "  Bravo  Jink  ! "  when  Mr.  Jinkins  appeared  with 
Charity  on  his  arm  :  which  became  quite  rapturous  as  Mr,  Uander 
followed,  escorting  Mercy,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  brought  up  the  rear  with 
Mrs.  Todoers. 

Then  the  presentations  took  place.  They  included  a  gentleman  of  a 
sporting  turn,  who  propounded  questions  on  jockey  subjects  to  the 
editors  of  Sunday  papers,  which  were  regarded  by  his  friends  as  rather 
stiff  things  to  answer ;  and  they  included  a  gentleman  ot  a  theatrical 
turn,  who  had  once  entertained  serious  thoughts  of  "  coming  out,"  but 
had  been  kept  in  by  the  wickedness  of  human  nature ;  and  they  included 
a  gentleman  of  a  debating  turn,  who  was  strong  at  speech-making  ;  and 
a  gentleman  of  a  literary  turn,  who  wrote  squibs  upon  the  rest,  and  knew 
the  weak  side  of  everybody's  character  but  his  own.  There  was  a  gentle- 
man of  a  vocal  turn,  and  a  gentleman  of  a  smoking  turn,  and  a  gentleman 


110  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

of  a  convivial  turn  ;  some  of  the  gentlemen  had  a  turn  for  whist,  and  a 
large  proportion  of  the  gentlemen  had  a  strong  turn  for  billiards  and 
betting.  They  had  all,  it  may  be  presumed,  a  turn  for  business  ;  being- 
all  commercially  employed  in  one  way  or  other ;  and  had,  every  one  in 
his  own  way,  a  decided  turn  for  pleasure  to  boot.  Mr.  Jinkins  was  of  a 
fashionable  turn  j  being  a  regular  frequenter  of  the  Parks  on  Sundays, 
and  knowing  a  great  many  carriages  by  sight.  He  spoke  mysteriously, 
too,  of  splendid  women,  and  was  suspected  of  having  once  committed 
himself  with  a  Countess.  Mr.  Gander  was  of  a  witty  turn,  being  indeed 
the  gentleman  who  had  originated  the  sally  about  "  collars ;"  which 
sparkling  pleasantry  was  now  retailed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  under  the 
title  of  Gander's  Last,  and  was  received  in  all  parts  of  the  room  with  great 
applause.  Mr.  Jinkins,  it  may  be  added,  was  much  the  oldest  of  the 
party  :  being  a  fish-salesman's  book-keeper,  aged  forty.  He  was  the 
oldest  boarder  also  ;  and  in  right  of  his  double  seniority,  took  the  lead 
in  the  house,  as  Mrs.  Todgers  had  already  said. 

There  was  considerable  delay  in  the  production  of  dinner,  and  poor 
Mrs.  Todgers,  being  reproached  in  confidence  by  Jinkins,  slipped  in 
and  out,  at  least  twenty  times  to  see  about  it ;  always  coming  back  as 
though  she  had  no  such  thing  upon  her  mind,  and  hadn't  been  out  at 
all.  But  there  was  no  hitch  in  the  conversation,  nevertheless  ;  for  one 
gentleman,  who  travelled  in  the  perfumery  line,  exhibited  an  interesting 
nick-nack,  in  the  way  of  a  remarkable  cake  of  shaving  soap,  which  he 
had  lately  met  with  in  Germany  ;  and  the  gentleman  of  a  literary  turn 
repeated  (by  desire)  some  sarcastic  stanzas  he  had  recently  produced  on 
the  freezing  of  the  tank  at  the  back  of  the  house.  These  amusements, 
with  the  miscellaneous  conversation  arising  out  of  them,  passed  the 
time  splendidly,  until  dinner  was  announced  by  Bailey  junior  in  these- 
terms  : 

"The  wittles  is  up  !" 

On  which  notice  they  immediately  descended  to  the  banquet-hall  ; 
some  of  the  more  facetious  spirits  in  the  rear  taking  down  gentlemen  as 
if  they  were  ladies,  in  imitation  of  the  fortunate  possessors  of  the  two 
Miss  Pecksniffs. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  said  grace — a  short  and  pious  grace,  invoking  a  blessing 
on  the  appetites  of  those  present,  and  committing  all  persons  who  had 
nothing  to  eat,  to  the  care  of  Providence  :  whose  business  (so  said  the 
grace,  in  effect)  it  clearly  was,  to  look  after  them.  This  done,  they  fell 
to,  with  less  ceremony  than  appetite  ;  the  table  groaning  beneath  the 
weight,  not  only  of  the  delicacies  whereof  the  Miss  Pecksniffs  had  been 
previously  forewarned,  but  of  boiled  beef,  roast  veal,  bacon,  pies,  and 
abundance  of  such  heavy  vegetables  as  are  favourably  known  to  house- 
keepers for  their  satisfying  qualities.  Besides  which,  there  were  bottles 
of  stout,  bottles  of  wine,  bottles  of  ale  ;  and  divers  other  strong  drinks, 
native  and  foreign. 

All  this  was  highly  agreeable  to  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs,  who  were  in 
immense  request ;  sitting  one  on  either  hand  of  Mr.  Jinkins  at  the 
bottom  of  the  table  ;  and  who  were  called  upon  to  take  wine  with  some 
new  admirer  every  minute.     They  had  hardly  ever  felt  so  pleasant,  and 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT,  111 

SO  full  of  conversation,  in  their  lives  ;  Mercy,  in  particular,  was  uncom- 
monly brilliant,  and  said  so  many  good  things  in  the  way  of  lively 
repartee  that  she  was  looked  upon  as  a  prodigy.  "  In  short,"  as  that 
young  lady  observed,  "  they  felt  now,  indeed,  that  they  were  in  London, 
and  for  the  first  time  too." 

Their  young  friend  Bailey  sympathised  in  these  feelings  to  the  fullest 
extent,  and,  abating  nothing  of  his  patronage,  gave  them  every 
encouragement  in  his  power  :  favouring  them,  when  the  general  atten- 
tion was  diverted  from  his  proceedings,  with  many  nods  and  winks  and 
other  tokens  of  recognition,  and  occasionally  touching  his  nose  with  a 
corkscrew,  as  if  to  express  the  Bacchanalian  character  of  the  meeting. 
In  truth,  perhaps  even  the  spirits  of  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs,  and  the 
hungry  watchfulness  of  Mrs.  Todgers,  were  less  worthy  of  note  than  the 
proceedings  of  this  remarkable  boy,  whom  nothing  disconcerted  or  put  out 
of  his  way.  If  any  piece  of  crockery — a  dish  or  otherwise — chanced  to 
slip  through  his  hands  (which  happened  once  or  twice),  he  let  it  go  with 
perfect  good-breeding,  and  never  added  to  the  painful  emotions  of  the 
company  by  exhibiting  the  least  regret.  Nor  did  he,  by  hurrying  to  and 
fro,  disturb  the  repose  of  the  assembly,  as  many  well-trained  servants  do  ; 
on  the  contrary,  feeling  the  hopelessness  of  waiting  upon  so  large  a 
party,  he  left  the  gentlemen  to  help  themselves  to  what  they  wanted, 
and  seldom  stirred  from  behind  Mr.  Jinkins's  chair,  where,  with  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  and  his  legs  planted  pretty  wide  apart,  he  led  the 
laughter,  and  enjoyed  the  conversation. 

The  dessert  was  splendid.  No  waiting  either.  The  pudding-plates 
had  been  washed  in  a  little  tub  outside  the  door  while  cheese  was  on, 
and  though  they  were  moist  and  warm  with  friction,  still  there  they 
were  again — up  to  the  mark,  and  true  to  time.  Quarts  of  almonds  ; 
dozens  of  oranges ;  pounds  of  raisins  ;  stacks  of  biffins  ;  soup-plates 
full  of  nuts. — Oh,  Todgers's  could  do  it  when  it  chose  !  mind  that. 

Then  more  wine  came  on  ;  red  wines  and  white  wines  ;  and  a  large 
china  bowl  of  punch,  brewed  by  the  gentleman  of  a  convivial  turn,  who 
adjured  the  Miss  Pecksniffs  not  to  be  despondent  on  account  of  its 
dimensions,  as  there  were  materials  in  the  house  for  the  concoction  of 
half  a  dozen  more  of  the  same  size.  Good  gracious,  how  they  laughed  ! 
How  they  coughed  when  they  sipped  it,  because  it  was  so  strong ;  and 
how  they  laughed  again,  when  somebody  vowed  that  but  for  its  colour 
it  might  have  been  mistaken,  in  regard  of  its  innocuous  qualities,  for 
new  milk  !  What  a  shout  of  "  No  !  "  burst  from  the  gentlemen  when  they 
pathetically  implored  Mr.  Jinkins  to  suffer  them  to  qualify  it  with  hot 
water  ;  and  how  blushingly,  by  little  and  little,  did  each  of  them  drink 
her  whole  glassful,  down  to  its  very  dregs  ! 

Now  comes  the  trying  time.  The  sun,  as  Mr.  Jinkins  says  (gentle- 
manly creature,  Jinkins — never  at  a  loss  !),  is  about  to  leave  the  firma- 
ment. "  Miss  Pecksniff !"  says  Mrs.  Todgers,  softly,  "  will  you  —  " 
"  Oh  dear,  no  more,  Mrs.  Todgers."  Mrs.  Todgers  rises  ;  the  two  Miss 
Pecksniffs  rise  ;  all  rise.  Miss  Mercy  Pecksnifi"  looks  downward  for  her 
scarf.  Where  is  it  ?  Dear  me,  where  cayi  it  be  %  Sweet  girl,  she  has 
it  on — not  on  her  fair  neck,  but  loose  upon  her  flowing  figure.     A  dozen 


112  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

hands  assist  her.  She  is  all  confusion.  The  youngest  gentleman  in 
company  thirsts  to  murder  Jinkins.  She  skips  and  joins  her  sister 
at  the  door.  Her  sister  has  her  arm  about  the  waist  of  Mrs.  Todgers. 
She  winds  her  arm  around  her  sister.  Diana,  what  a  picture  !  The 
last  things  visible  are  a  shape  and  a  skip.  "  Gentlemen,  let  us  drink 
the  ladies!" 

The  enthusiasm  is  tremendous.  The  gentleman  of  a  debating  turn 
rises  in  the  midst,  and  suddenly  lets  loose  a  tide  of  eloquence  which  bears 
down  everything  before  it.  He  is  reminded  of  a  toast — a  toast  to  which 
they  will  respond.  There  is  an  individual  present ;  he  has  him  in  his 
eje;  to  whom  they  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude.  He  repeats  it — a  debt  of 
gratitude.  Their  rugged  natures  have  been  softened  and  ameliorated  that 
day  by  the  society  of  lovely  woman.  There  is  a  gentleman  in  company 
whom  two  accomplished  and  delightful  females  regard  with  veneration, 
as  the  fountain  of  their  existence.  Yes,  when  yet  the  two  Miss  Peck- 
sniffs lisped  in  language  scarce  intelligible,  they  called  that  individual 
"  Father  !  "  There  is  great  applause.  He  gives  them  "  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
and  God  bless  him  !"  They  all  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  they 
drink  the  toast.  The  youngest  gentleman  in  company  does  so  with  a 
thrill ;  for  he  feels  that  a  mysterious  influence  pervades  the  man  who 
claims  that  being  in  the  pink  scarf  for  his  daughter. 

What  saith  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  reply  1  or  rather  let  the  question  be,  What 
leaves  he  unsaid  ?  Nothing.  More  punch  is  called  for,  and  produced, 
and  drunk.  Enthusiasm  mounts  still  higher.  Every  man  comes  out 
freely  in  his  own  character.  The  gentleman  of  a  theatrical  turn  recites. 
The  vocal  gentleman  regales  them  with  a  song.  Gander  leaves  the 
Gander  of  all  former  feasts  whole  leagues  behind.  He  rises  to  propose 
a  toast.  It  is.  The  Father  of  Todgers's.  It  is  their  common  friend 
Jink — it  is  Old  Jink,  if  he  may  call  him  by  that  familiar  and  endearing 
appellation.  The  youngest  gentleman  in  company  utters  a  frantic 
negative.  He  won't  have  it — he  can't  bear  it — it  mustn't  be.  But  his 
depth  of  feeling  is  misunderstood.  He  is  supposed  to  be  a  little  elevated ; 
and  nobody  heeds  him. 

Mr.  Jinkins  thanks  them  from  his  heart.  It  is,  by  many  degrees,  the 
proudest  day  in  his  humble  career.  When  he  looks  around  him  on  the 
present  occasion,  he  feels  that  he  wants  words  in  which  to  express  his 
gratitude.  One  thing  he  will  say.  He  hopes  it  has  been  shown  that 
Todgers's  can  be  true  to  itself;  and,  an  opportunity  arising,  that  it  can 
come  out  quite  as  strong  as  its  neighbours — perhaps  stronger.  He 
reminds  them,  amidst  thunders  of  encouragement,  that  they  have  heard 
of  a  somewhat  similar  establishment  in  Cannon-street ;  and  that  they 
have  heard  it  praised.  He  wishes  to  draw  no  invidious  comparisons  ;  he 
would  be  the  last  man  to  do  it ;  but  when  that  Cannon-street  establish- 
ment shall  be  able  to  produce  such  a  combination  of  wit  and  beauty  as 
has  graced  that  board  that  day,  and  shall  be  able  to  serve  up  (all  things 
considered)  such  a  dinner  as  that  of  which  they  have  just  partaken,  he 
will  be  happy  to  talk  to  it.  Until  then,  gentlemen,  he  will  stick  to 
Todgers's. 

More  punch,  more  enthusiasm,  more  speeches.     Everybody's  health  is 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  113 

drunk^  saving  tlie  youngest  gentleman's,  in  company.  He  sits  apart, 
with  his  elbow  on  the  back  of  a  vacant  chair,  and  glares  disdainfully  at 
Jinkins.  Gander,  in  a  convulsing  speech,  gives  them  the  health  of 
Bailey  junior  ;  hiccups  are  heard  ;  and  a  glass  is  broken.  Mr.  Jinkins 
feels  that  it  is  time  to  join  the  ladies.  He  proposes,  as  a  final  sentiment, 
Mrs.  Todgers.  She  is  worthy  to  be  remembered  separately.  Hear,  hear. 
So  she  is  :  no  doubt  of  it.  They  all  find  fault  with  her  at  other  times  ; 
but  every  man  feels,  now,  that  he  could  die  in  her  defence. 

They  go  up-stairs,  where  they  are  not  expected  so  soon  ;  for  Mrs. 
Todgers  is  asleep.  Miss  Charity  is  adjusting  her  hair,  and  Mercy,  who 
has  made  a  sofa  of  one  of  the  window-seats,  is  in  a  gracefully  recumbent 
attitude.  She  is  rising  hastily,  when  Mr.  Jinkins  implores  her,  for  all 
their  sakes,  not  to  stir  ;  she  looks  too  graceful  and  too  lovely,  he 
remarks,  to  be  disturbed.  She  laughs,  and  yields,  and  fans  herself,  and 
drops  her  fan,  and  there  is  a  rush  to  pick  it  up.  Being  now  installed, 
by  one  consent,  as  the  beauty  of  the  party,  she  is  cruel  and  capricious, 
and  sends  gentlemen  on  messages  to  other  gentlemen,  and  forgets  all 
about  them  before  they  can  return  wdth  the  answer,  and  invents  a 
thousand  tortures,  rending  their  hearts  to  pieces.  Bailey  brings  up  the 
tea  and  coffee.  There  is  a  small  cluster  of  admirers  round  Charity  ; 
but  they  are  only  those  who  cannot  get  near  her  sister.  The  youngest 
gentleman  in  company  is  pale,  but  collected,  and  still  sits  apart;  for  his 
spirit  loves  to  hold  communion  with  itself,  and  his  soul  recoils  from 
noisy  revellers.  She  has  a  consciousness  of  his  presence  and  his  adora- 
tion. He  sees  it  flashing  sometimes  in  the  corner  of  her  eye.  Have  a 
care,  Jinkins,  ere  you  provoke  a  desperate  man  to  frenzy  ! 

Mr.  Pecksniff"  had  followed  his  younger  friends  up-stairs,  and  taken  a 
chair  at  the  side  of  Mrs.  Todgers.  He  had  also  spilt  a  cup  of  coffee 
over  his  legs  without  appearing  to  be  aware  of  the  circumstance ;  nor 
did  he  seem  to  know  that  there  was  muflSn  on  his  knee. 

"  And  how  have  they  used  you,  down-stairs,  sir  1 "  asked  the 
hostess. 

"  Their  conduct  has  been  such,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff", 
"  as  I  can  never  think  of  without  emotion,  or  remember  without  a  tear. 
Oh,  Mrs.  Todgers  !" 

"  My  goodness  !"  exclaimed  that  lady.  "  How  low  you  are  in  your 
spirits,  sir  !" 

"  I  am  a  man,  my  dear  Madam,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff",  shedding  tears, 
and  speaking  with  an  imperfect  articulation,  "  but  I  am  also  a  father. 
I  am  also  a  widower.  My  feelings,  Mrs.  Todgers,  will  not  consent  to  be 
entirely  smothered,  like  the  young  children  in  the  Tower.  They  are 
grown  up,  and  the  more  I  press  the  bolster  on  them,  the  more  they  look 
round  the  corner  of  it." 

He  suddenly  became  conscious  of  the  bit  of  muffin,  and  stared  at  it 
intently  :  shaking  his  head  the  while,  in  a  forlorn  and  imbecile  manner, 
as  if  he  regarded  it  as  his  evil  genius,  and  mildly  reproached  it. 

"  She  was  beautiful,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  he  said,  turning  his  glazed  eye 
again  upon  her,  without  the  least  preliminary  notice.  "  She  had  a  small 
property." 

I 


114  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  So  I  have  heard,"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers  with  great  sympathy. 

"  Those  are  her  daughters,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniif,  pointing  out  the 
young  ladies,  with  increased  emotion. 

Mrs.  Todgers  had  no  doubt  of  it. 

"  Mercy  and  Charity,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  Charity  and  Mercy.  Not 
unholy  names,  I  hope  1 " 

"  Mr.  Pecksniff  1"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  what  a  ghastly  smile  !  Are 
you  ill.  Sir  ?" 

He  pressed  his  hand  upon  her  arm,  and  answered  in  a  solemn  manner, 
and  a  faint  voice,  "  Chronic." 

"  Cholic '? "  cried  the  frightened  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Chron-ic,"  he  repeated  with  some  difficulty.  "  Chronic.  A  chronic 
disorder.  I  have  been  its  victim  from  childhood.  It  is  carrying  me  to 
my  grave." 

"  Heaven  forbid  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Yes  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  reckless  with  despair.  "  I  am  rather 
glad  of  it,  upon  the  whole.     You  are  like  her,  Mrs.  Todgers." 

"  Don't  squeeze  me  so  tight,  pray,  Mr.  Pecksniff.  If  any  of  the 
gentlemen  should  notice  us." 

"  For  her  sake,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Permit  me — in  honour  of  her 
memory.  For  the  sake  of  a  voice  from  the  tomb.  You  are  ver?/  like  her, 
Mrs.  Todgers  !     What  a  world  this  is  !" 

"  Ah  !     Indeed  you  may  say  that  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  I'm  afraid  it's  a  vain  and  thoughtless  world,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
overflowing  with  despondency.  "  These  young  people  about  us.  Oh  ! 
what  sense  have  they  of  their  responsibilities  ?  None.  Give  me  your 
other  hand,  Mrs.  Todgers." 

That  lady  hesitated,  and  said  "  she  didn't  like." 

"  Has  a  voice  from  the  grave  no  influence'?"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with 
dismal  tenderness.     "  This  is  irreligious  !     My  dear  creature." 

"  Hush  !"  urged  Mrs.  Todgers.     "  Really  you  mustn't." 

"  It's  not  me,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "Don't  suppose  it's  me  ;  it's  the 
voice  ;  it's  her  voice." 

Mrs.  Pecksniff  deceased,  must  have  had  an  unusually  thick  and  husky 
voice  for  a  lady ;  and  rather  a  stuttering  voice ;  and  to  say  the  truth 
somewhat  of  a  drunken  voice  ;  if  it  had  ever  borne  much  resemblance  to 
that  in  which  Mr.  Pecksniff  spoke  just  then.  But  perhaps  this  was 
delusion  on  his  part. 

"  It  has  been  a  day  of  enjoyment,  Mrs.  Todgers,  but  still  it  has  been 
a  day  of  torture.  It  has  reminded  me  of  my  loneliness.  What  am  I 
in  the  world  1 " 

"  An  excellent  gentleman,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  There  is  consolation  in  that  too,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "  Am  IV* 

"  There  is  no  better  man  living,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  I  am  sure." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  smiled  through  his  tears,  and  slightly  shook  his  head. 
"  You  are  very  good,"  he  said,  "  thank  you.  It  is  a  great  happiness  to 
me,  Mrs.  Todgers,  to  make  young  people  happy.  The  happiness  of  my 
pupils  is  my  chief  object.  I  dote  upon  'em.  They  dote  upon  me  too 
— sometimes." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  115 

"  Always,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  When  they  say  they  haven't  improved,  ma'am,"  whispered  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, looking  at  her  with  profound  mystery,  and  motioning  to  her  to 
advance  her  ear  a  little  closer  to  his  mouth.  "  When  they  say  they 
haven't  improved,  ma'am,  and  the  premium  was  too  high,  they  lie  !  I 
shouldn't  wish  it  to  be  mentioned  ;  you  will  understand  me  ;  but  I  say 
to  you  as  to  an  old  friend,  they  lie." 

"  Base  wretches  they  must  be  !  "  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Madam,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  you  are  right.  I  respect  you  for 
that  observation.  A  word  in  your  ear.  To  Parents  and  Guardians — 
This  is  in  confidence,  Mrs.  Todgers  1 " 

"  The  strictest,  of  course  !  "  cried  that  lady. 

"  To  Parents  and  Guardians,"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  An  eligible 
opportunity  now  offers,  which  unites  the  advantages  of  the  best  practical 
architectural  education  with  the  comforts  of  a  home,  and  the  constant 
association  with  some,  who,  however  humble  their  sphere  and  limited  their 
capacity — observe  ! — are  not  unmindful  of  their  moral  responsibilities.'* 

Mrs.  Todgers  looked  a  little  puzzled  to  know  what  this  might  mean, 
as  well  she  might ;  for  it  was,  as  the  reader  may  perchance  remember, 
Mr.  Pecksniff 's  usual  form  of  advertisement  when  he  wanted  a  pupil ; 
and  seemed  to  have  no  particular  reference,  at  present,  to  anything. 
But  Mr.  Pecksniff  held  up  his  finger  as  a  caution  to  her  not  to  interrupt 
him. 

"Do  you  know  any  parent  or  guardian,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  who  desires  to  avail  himself  of  such  an  opportunity 
for  a  young  gentleman  '?  An  orphan  would  be  preferred.  Do  you  know 
of  any  orphan  with  three  or  four  hundred  pound  ^" 

Mrs.  Todgers  reflected,  and  shook  her  head. 

"  When  you  hear  of  an  orphan  with  three  or  four  hundred  pound," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  let  that  dear  orphan's  friends  apply,  by  letter  post- 
paid, to  S.  P.,  Post-ofRce,  Salisbury.  I  don't  know  who  he  is,  exactly. 
Don't  be  alarmed,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  falling  heavily  against 
her :  "  chronic — chronic  !  Let's  have  a  little  drop  of  something  to  drink." 

"  Bless  my  life.  Miss  Pecksniffs  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  aloud,  "  your 
dear  pa's  took  very  poorly  !  " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  straightened  himself  by  a  surprising  effort,  as  every  one 
turned  hastily  towards  him  ;  and  standing  on  his  feet,  regarded  the 
tissembly  with  a  look  of  ineffable  wisdom.  Gradually  it  gave  place  to  a 
smile  ;  a  feeble,  helpless,  melancholy  smile  ;  bland,  almost  to  sickliness. 
"  Do  not  repine,  my  friends,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  tenderly.  "  Do  not 
weep  for  me.  It  is  chronic."  And  with  these  words,  after  making  a 
futile  attempt  to  pull  off  his  shoes,  he  fell  into  the  fire-place. 

The  youngest  gentleman  in  company  had  him  out  in  a  second.  Yes, 
before  a  hair  upon  his  head  was  singed,  he  had  him  on  the  hearth-rug 
— Her  father ! 

She  was  almost  beside  herself.  So  was  her  sister.  Jinkins  consoled 
them  both.  They  all  consoled  them.  Everybody  had  something  to  say 
except  the  youngest  gentleman  in  company,  who  with  a  noble  self- 
devotion  did  the  heavy  work,  and  held  up  Mr.  Pecksniff's  head  without 

i2 


116  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

being  taken  any  notice  of  by  anybody.  At  last  tliey  gathered  round, 
and  agreed  to  carry  him  up-stairs  to  bed.  The  youngest  gentleman  in 
company  was  rebuked  by  Jinkins  for  tearing  Mr.  Pecksniff's  coat  !  Ha, 
ha  !     But  no  matter. 

They  carried  him  up-stairs,  and  crushed  the  youngest  gentleman  at 
every  step.  His  bedroom  was  at  the  top  of  the  house,  and  it  was  a  long 
way  ;  but  they  got  him  there  in  course  of  time.  He  asked  them 
frequently  upon  the  road  for  a  little  drop  of  something  to  drink.  It 
seemed  an  idiosj^ncrasy.  The  youngest  gentleman  in  company  proposed 
a  draught  of  water.  Mr.  Pecksniff  called  him  opprobrious  names  for 
the  suggestion. 

Jinkins  and  Gander  took  the  rest  upon  themselves,  and  made  him  as 
comfortable  as  they  could,  on  the  outside  of  his  bed ;  and  when  he 
seemed  disposed  to  sleep,  they  left  him.  But  before  they  had  all  gained 
the  bottom  of  the  staircase,  a  vision  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  strangely  attired, 
was  seen  to  flutter  on  the  top  landing.  He  desired  to  collect  their 
sentiments,  it  seemed,  upon  the  nature  of  human  life. 

"  My  friends,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  over  the  banisters, 
"  let  us  improve  our  minds  by  mutual  inquiry  and  discussion.  Let  us 
be  moral.     Let  us  contemplate  existence.     Where  is  Jinkins  1 " 

"  Here,"  cried  that  gentleman.     "  Go  to  bed  again  !  " 

"To  bed!"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "Bed!  '  Tis  the  voice  of  the 
sluggard  ;  I  hear  him  complain  ;  you  have  woke  me  too  soon  ;  I  must 
slumber  again.  If  any  young  orphan  will  repeat  the  remainder  of  that 
simple  piece  from  Doctor  Watts's  collection,  an  eligible  opportunity 
now  offers." 

Nobody  volunteered. 

"  This  is  very  soothing,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  a  pause.  "  Extremely 
so.  Cool  and  refreshing ;  particularly  to  the  legs  !  The  legs  of  the  human 
subject,  my  friends,  are  a  beautiful  production.  Compare  them  with 
wooden  legs,  and  observe  the  difference  between  the  anatomy  of  nature 
and  the  anatomy  of  art.  Do  you  know,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  leaning 
over  the  banisters,  with  an  odd  recollection  of  his  familiar  manner 
among  new  pupils  at  home,  "  that  I  should  very  much  like  to  see  Mrs. 
Todgers's  notion  of  a  wooden  leg,  if  perfectly  agreeable  to  herself !  " 

As  it  appeared  impossible  to  entertain  any  reasonable  hopes  of  him 
after  this  speech,  Mr.  Jinkins  and  Mr.  Gander  went  up-stairs  again,  and 
once  more  got  him  into  bed.  But  they  had  not  descended  to  the  second 
floor  before  he  was  out  again  ;  nor,  when  they  had  repeated  the  process, 
had  they  descended  the  first  flight,  before  he  was  out  again.  In  a  word,  as 
often  as  he  was  shut  up  in  his  own  room,  he  darted  out  afresh,  charged 
with  some  new  moral  sentiment,  which  he  continually  repeated  over  the 
banisters,  with  extraordinary  relish,  and  an  irrepressible  desire  for  the 
improvement  of  his  fellow  creatures  that  nothing  could  subdue. 

Under  these  circumstances,  when  they  had  got  him  into  bed  for  the 
thirtieth  time  or  so,  Mr.  Jinkins  held  him,  while  his  companion  went 
down-stairs  in  search  of  Bailey  junior,  with  whom  he  presently  returned. 
That  youth,  having  been  apprised  of  the  service  required  of  him,  was  in 
great  spirits,  and  brought  up  a  stool,  a  candle,  and  his  supper  ;  to  the 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  117 

end  that  he  might  keep  watch  outside  the  bedroom  door  with  tolerable 
comfort. 

When  he  had  completed  his  arrangements,  they  locked  Mr.  Pecksniff 
in,  and  left  the  key  on  the  outside  ;  charging  the  young  page  to  listen 
attentively  for  symptoms  of  an  apoplectic  nature,  with  which  the  patient 
might  be  troubled,  and,  in  case  of  any  such  presenting  themselves, 
to  summon  them  without  delay  :  to  which  Mr.  Bailey  modestly  replied 
that  he  hoped  he  knowed  wot  o'clock  it  was  in  gineral,  and  didn't 
date  his  letters  to  his  friends,  from  Todgers's,  for  nothing. 


CHAPTER  X. 

CONTAINING  STRANGE  MATTER  ;    ON  WHICH  MANY  EVENTS  IN  THIS  HISTORY, 
MAY,    FOR   THEIR    GOOD    OR    EVIL    INFLUENCE,    CHIEFLY    DEPEND. 

But  Mr.  Pecksniff  came  to  town  on  business.  Had  he  forgotten  that  1 
Was  he  always  taking  his  pleasure  with  Todgers's  jovial  brood,  unmind- 
ful of  the  serious  demands,  whatever  they  might  be,  upon  his  calm 
consideration'?     No. 

Time  and  tide  will  wait  for  no  man,  saith  the  adage.  But  all  men 
have  to  wait  for  time  and  tide.  That  tide  which,  taken  at  the  flood, 
would  lead  Seth  Pecksniff  on  to  fortune,  was  marked  down  in  the  table, 
and  about  to  flow.  No  idle  Pecksniff  lingered  far  inland,  unmindful 
of  the  changes  of  the  stream ;  but  there,  upon  the  water's  edge,  over 
his  shoes  already,  stood  the  worthy  creature,  prepared  to  wallow  in  the 
very  mud,  so  that  it  slid  towards  the  quarter  of  his  hope. 

The  trustfulness  of  his  two  fair  daughters  was  beautiful  indeed.  They 
had  that  firm  reliance  on  their  parent's  nature,  which  taught  them  to 
feel  certain  that  in  all  he  did,  he  had  his  purpose  straight  and  full 
before  him.  And  that  its  noble  end  and  object  was  himself,  which 
almost  of  necessity  included  them,  they  knew.  The  devotion  of  these 
maids  was  perfect. 

Their  filial  confidence  was  rendered  the  more  touching,  by  their 
having  no  knowledge  of  their  parent's  real  designs,  in  the  present 
instance.  All  that  they  knew  of  his  proceedings,  was,  that  every  morn- 
ing, after  the  early  breakfast,  he  repaired  to  the  post-office  and  inquired 
for  letters.  That  task  performed,  his  business  for  the  day  was  over  ; 
and  he  again  relaxed,  until  the  rising  of  another  sun  proclaimed  the 
advent  of  another  post. 

This  went  on  for  four  or  five  days.  At  length  one  morning.  Mr. 
Pecksnifi"  returned  with  a  breathless  rapidity,  strange  to  observe  in  him, 
at  other  times  so  calm ;  and,  seeking  immediate  speech  with  his 
daughters,  shut  himself  up  with  them  in  private  conference,  for  two 
whole  hours.  Of  all  that  passed  in  this  period,  only  the  following 
words  of  Mr.  PecksnifTs  utterance  are  known  : 

"  How  he  has  come  to  change  so  very  much  (if  it  should  turn  out  as 
I  expect,  that  he  has),  we  needn't  stop  to  inquire.       My  dears,  I  have 


118  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

my  thoughts  upon  the  subject,  but  I  will  not  impart  them.  It  i* 
enough  that  we  will  not  be  proud,  resentful,  or  unforgiving.  If  he  wants 
our  friendship,  he  shall  have  it.     We  know  our  duty,  I  hope  !" 

That  same  day  at  noon,  an  old  gentleman  alighted  from  a  hackney- 
coach  at  the  post-office,  and,  giving  his  name,  inquired  for  a  letter 
addressed  to  himself,  and  directed  to  be  left  till  called  for.  It  had  been 
lying  there,  some  'days.  The  superscription  was  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
hand,  and  it  was  sealed  with  Mr.  Pecksniff's  seal.  , 

It  was  very  short,  containing  indeed  nothing  more  than  an  address 
*'with  Mr.  Pecksniff's  respectful,  and  (notwithstanding  what  has 
passed)  sincerely  affectionate  regards."  The  old  gentleman  tore  off 
the  direction  —  scattering  the  rest  in  fragments  to  the  winds — and 
giving  it  to  the  coachman,  bade  him  drive  as  near  that  place  as  he 
could.  In  pursuance  of  these  instructions  he  was  driven  to  the  Monu- 
ment J  where  he  again  alighted,  dismissed  the  vehicle,  and  walked 
towards  Todgers's. 

Though  the  face,  and  form,  and  gait  of  this  old  man,  and  even  his 
grip  of  the  stout  stick  on  which  he  leaned,  were  all  expressive  of  a  reso- 
lution not  easily  shaken,  and  a  purpose  (it  matters  little  whether  right 
or  wrong,  just  now)  such  as  in  other  days  might  have  survived  the  rack, 
and  had  its  strongest  life  in  weakest  death ;  still  there  were  grains  of 
hesitation  in  his  mind,  which  made  him  now  avoid  the  house  he  sought, 
and  loiter  to  and  fro  in  a  gleam  of  sunlight,  that  brightened  the  little 
churchyard  hard  by.  There  may  have  been  in  the  presence  of  those 
idle  heaps  of  dust  among  the  busiest  stir  of  life,  something  to  increase  his 
wavering ;  but  there  he  walked,  awakening  the  echoes  as  he  paced  up 
and  down,  until  the  church  clock,  striking  the  quarters  for  the  second 
time  since  he  had  been  there,  roused  him  from  his  meditation.  Shaking 
off  his  incertitude  as  the  air  parted  with  the  sound  of  the  bells,  he  walked 
rapidly  to  the  house,  and  knocked  at  the  door. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  seated  in  the  landlady's  little  room,  and  his  visitor 
found  him  reading — by  an  accident :  he  apologised  for  it — an  excellent 
theological  work.  There  were  cake  and  wine  upon  a  little  table — by 
another  accident,  for  which  he  also  apologised.  Indeed  he  said,  he  had 
given  his  visitor  up,  and  was  about  to  partake  of  that  simple  refresh- 
ment with  his  children,  when  he  knocked  at  the  door. 

"Your  daughters  are  welH"  said  old  Martin,  laying  down  his  hat 
and  stick. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  endeavoured  to  conceal  his  agitation  as  a  father,  when 
he  answered,  Yes,  they  were.  They  were  good  girls,  he  said,  very  good. 
He  would  not  venture  to  recommend  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  to  take  the  easy 
chair,  or  to  keep  out  of  the  draught  from  the  door.  If  he  made  any 
such  suggestion,  he  would  expose  himself,  he  feared,  to  most  unjust 
suspicion.  He  would,  therefore,  content  himself  with  remarking  that 
there  was  an  easy  chair  in  the  room  ;  and  that  the  door  was  far  from 
being  air-tight.  This  latter  imperfection,  he  might  perhaps  venture  ta 
add,  was  not  uncommonly  to  be  met  with  in  old  houses. 

The  old  man  sat  down  in  the  easy  chair,  and  after  a  few  moments* 
silence,  said  : 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  11& 

"  In  the  first  place,  let  me  thank  yon  for  coming  to  London  so  promptly, 
at  my  almost  unexplained  request  :  I  need  scarcely  add,  at  my  cost." 

"  At  your  cost,  my  good  sir  ! "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  tone  of  great 
surprise. 

"  It  is  not,"  said  Martin,  waving  his  hand  impatiently,  "  my  habit  to 
put  my — well  !  my  relatives — to  any  personal  expense  to  gratify  my 
caprices." 

"  Caprices,  my  good  sir  ! "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  That  is  scarcely  the  proper  word  either,  in  this  instance,"  said  the 
old  man.     "No.     You  are  right." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  inwardly  very  much  relieved  to  hear  it,  though  he 
didn't  at  all  know  why. 

"  You  are  right,"  repeated  Martin.  "  It  is  not  a  caprice.  It  is 
built  up  on  reason,  proof,  and  cool  comparison.  Caprices  never  are. 
Moreover,  I  am  not  a  capricious  man.     I  never  was." 

"  Most  assuredly  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  How  do  you  know  % "  returned  the  other  quickly.  "  You  are  to 
begin  to  know  it  now.  You  are  to  test  and  prove  it,  in  time  to  come. 
You  and  yours  are  to  find  that  I  can  be  constant,  and  am  not  to  be 
diverted  from  my  end.     Do  you  hearl" 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  I  very  much  regret,"  Martin  resumed,  looking  steadily  at  him,  and 
speaking  in  a  slow  and  measured  tone  :  "  I  very  much  regret  that  you 
and  I  held  such  a  conversation  together,  as  that  which  passed  between 
us,  at  our  last  meeting.  I  very  much  regret  that  I  laid  open  to  you 
what  were  then  my  thoughts  of  you,  so  freely  as  I  did.  The  intentions 
that  I  bear  towards  you,  now,  are  of  another  kind  ;  and,  deserted  by  all 
in  whom  I  have  ever  trusted,  hoodwinked  and  beset  by  all  who  should 
help  and  sustain  me  ;  I  fly  to  you  for  refuge.  I  confide  in  you  to  be 
my  ally  ;  to  attach  yourself  to  me  by  ties  of  Interest  and  Expectation — " 
he  laid  great  stress  upon  these  words,  though  Mr.  Pecksniff  particularly 
begged  him  not  to  mention  it ;  "  and  to  help  me  to  visit  the  conse- 
quences of  the  very  worst  species  of  meanness,  dissimulation,  and 
subtlety,  on  the  right  heads." 

"  My  noble  sir  ! "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  catching  at  his  outstretched 
hand.  "  And  you  regret  the  having  harboured  unjust  thoughts  of  me  I 
you  with  those  gray  hairs  ! " 

"  Regrets,"  said  Martin,  "  are  the  natural  property  of  gray  hairs  ;  and 
I  enjoy,  in  common  with  all  other  men,  at  least  my  share  of  such 
inheritance.  And  so  enough  of  that.  I  regret  having  been  severed 
from  you  so  long.  If  I  had  known  you  sooner,  and  sooner  used  you  as 
you  well  deserve,  I  might  have  been  a  happier  man." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  up  to  the  ceiling,  and  clasped  his  hands  in 
rapture. 

"  Your  daughters,"  said  Martin,  after  a  short  silence.  "  I  don't  know 
them.     Are  they  like  you  V 

"  In  the  nose  of  my  eldest  and  the  chin  of  my  youngest,  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit,"  returned  the  widower,  "•  their  sainted  parent — not  myself,  their 
mother-^ — lives  again," 


120  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  I  don't  mean  in  person,"  said  the  old  man.     "  Morally — morally." 

"  'Tis  not  for  me  to  say,"  retorted  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  a  gentle  smile. 
"  I  have  done  my  best,  sir." 

"I  could  wish  to  see  them,"  said  Martin  ;  "  are  they  near  at  hand  ?" 

They  were,  very  near  ;  for  they  had,  in  fact,  been  listening  at  the 
door,  from  the  beginning  of  this  conversation  until  now,  when  they 
precipitately  retired.  Having  wiped  the  signs  of  weakness  from  his 
eyes,  and  so  given  them  time  to  get  up  stairs,  Mr.  Pecksniff  opened  the 
door,  and  mildly  cried  in  the  passage, 

"  My  own  darlings,  where  are  you  V 

"  Here,  my  dear  pa  ! "  replied  the  distant  voice  of  Charity. 

"  Come  down  into  the  back  parlour,  if  you  please,  my  love,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  and  bring  your  sister  with  you." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  pa,"  cried  Merry ;  and  down  they  came  directly 
(being  all  obedience),  singing  as  they  came. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  astonishment  of  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs 
when  they  found  a  stranger  with  their  dear  papa.  Nothing  could 
surpass  their  mute  amazement  when  he  said,  "My  children,  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit!"  But  when  he  told  them  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  and  he 
were  friends,  and  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  had  said  such  kind  and  tender 
words  as  pierced  his  very  heart,  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  cried  with 
one  accord,  "  Thank  Heaven  for  this  !"  and  fell  upon  the  old  man's 
neck.  And  when  they  had  embraced  him  with  such  fervour  of 
affection  that  no  words  can  describe  it,  they  grouped  themselves  about 
his  chair,  and  hung  over  him  :  as  figuring  to  themselves  no  earthly  joy 
like  that  of  ministering  to  his  wants,  and  crowding  into  the  remainder 
of  his  life  the  love  they  would  have  diffused  over  their  whole  existence, 
from  infancy,  if  he — dear  obdurate  ! — had  but  consented  to  receive  the 
precious  offering. 

The  old  man  looked  attentively  from  one  to  the  other,  and  then  at 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  several  times. 

"  What,"  he  asked  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  happening  to  catch  his  eye  in  its 
descent  :  for  until  now  it  had  been  piously  upraised,  with  something 
of  that  expression  which  the  poetry  of  ages  has  attributed  to  a  domestic 
bird,  when  breathing  its  last  amid  the  ravages  of  an  electric  storm  : 
"  What  are  their  names'?" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  told  him,  and  added,  rather  hastily — his  calumniators 
would  have  said,  with  a  view  to  any  testamentary  thoughts  that  might 
be  flitting  through  old  Martin's  mind — "  Perhaps,  my  dears,  you  had 
better  write  them  dowai.  Your  humble  autographs  are  of  no  value  in 
themselves,  but  affection  may  prize  them." 

"  Affection,"  said  the  old  man,  "  will  expend  itself  on  the  living 
originals.  Do  not  trouble  yourselves,  my  girls.  I  shall  not  so  easily 
forget  you.  Charity  and  Mercy,  as  to  need  such  tokens  of  remembrance. 

Cousin  !" 

"  Sir  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  alacrity. 

'^  Do  you  never  sit  down  % " 

«  Why — yes — occasionally,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  who  had  been 
standing  all  this  time. 


7".  "  ,  ^ 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  121 

'■  Will  you  do  so  now  ]" 

"  Can  you  ask  me,"  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff,  slipping  into  a  chair 
immediately,  '•'  whether  I  will  do  anything  that  you  desire?" 

"  You  talk  confidently,"  said  Martin,  "  and  you  mean  well  ;  but  I 
fear  you  don't  know  what  an  old  man's  humours  are.  You  don't  know 
what  it  is  to  be  required  to  court  his  likings  and  dislikings  ;  adapt 
yourself  to  his  prejudices  ;  do  his  bidding,  be  it  what  it  may  ;  bear  with 
his  distrusts  and  jealousies  ;  and  always  still  be  zealous  in  his  service. 
When  I  remember  how  numerous  these  failings  are  in  me,  and  judge  of 
their  occasional  enormity  by  the  injurious  thoughts  I  lately  entertained 
of  you,  I  hardly  dare  to  claim  you  for  my  friend." 

"  My  worthy  sir,"  returned  his  relative,  "how  c«?i  you  talk  in  such 
a  painful  strain  !  What  was  more  natural  than  that  you  should  make 
one  slight  mistake,  when  in  all  other  respects  you  were  so  very  correct, 
and  have  had  such  reason — such  very  sad  and  undeniable  reason — to 
judge  of  every  one  about  you  in  the  worst  light  !" 

"  True,"  replied  the  other.     "  You  are  very  lenient  with  me." 

"  We  always  said — my  girls  and  I/'  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  in- 
creasing obsequiousness,  "  that  while  we  mourned  the  heaviness  of  our 
mi^ortune  in  being  confounded  with  the  base  and  mercenary,  still  we 
could  not  wonder  at  it.     My  dears,  you  remember  I  " 

Oh  vividly  !     A  thousand  times  ! 

"  We  uttered  no  complaint,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  '•  Occasionally  we 
had  the  presumption  to  console  ourselves  with  the  remark  that  Truth 
would  in  the  end  prevail,  and  Virtue  be  triumphant ;  but  not  often. 
My  loves,  you  recollect  V 

Recollect  1  Could  he  doubt  it  ?  Dearest  pa,  what  strange,  unne- 
cessary questions ! 

'■'  And  when  I  saw  you,"  resumed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  still  greater 
deference,  ''  in  the  little,  unassuming  village  where  we  take  the  liberty 
of  dwelling,  I  said  you  were  mistaken  in  me,  my  dear  sir  :  that  was  all, 
I  think?" 

'•  1^0 — not  all,"  said  Martin,  who  had  been  sitting  with  his  hand 
upon  his  brow  for  some  time  past,  and  now  looked  up  again  :  "  you  said 
much  more,  which,  added  to  other  circumstances  that  have  come  to  my 
knowledge,  opened  my  eyes.  You  spoke  to  me,  disinterestedly,  on 
behalf  of — I  needn't  name  him.     You  know  whom  I  mean." 

Trouble  was  expressed  in  Mr.  Pecksniff^s  visage,  as  he  pressed  his  hot 
hands  together,  and  replied,  with  humility,  "  Quite  disinterestedly, 
sir,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  know  it,"  said  old  Martin,  in  his  quiet  way.  '"'  I  am  sure  of  it. 
I  said  so.  It  was  disinterested  too,  in  you,  to  draw  that  herd  of  harpies 
off  from  me,  and  be  their  ^-ictim  yourself;  most  other  men  would  have 
suffered  them  to  display  themselves  in  all  their  rapacity,  and  would  have 
striven  to  rise,  by  contrast,  in  my  estimation.  You  felt  for  me,  and  drew 
them  off,  for  which  I  owe  you  many  thanks.  Although  I  left  the  place, 
I  know  what  passed  behind  my  back,  you  see  ! " 

"  You  amaze  me,  sir  ! "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff  :  which  was  true  enough. 

"  My  knowledge  of  your  proceedings,"  said  the  old  man,  "  does  not 
stop  at  this.     You  have  a  new  inmate  in  your  house — " 


122  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Yes,  sir,"  rejoined  the  arcliitect,  "  I  have." 

"  He  must  quit  it,"  said  Martin. 

"  For — for  yours  ?  "  asked  Mr.  PecksniiF,  with  a  quavering  mildness. 

*'  For  any  shelter  he  can  find,"  the  old  man  answered.  "  He  has 
deceived  you." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  eagerly.  "  I  trust  not.  I  have  been 
extremely  well  disposed  towards  that  young  man.  I  hope  it  cannot 
be  shown  that  he  has  forfeited  all  claim  to  my  protection.  Deceit — 
deceit,  my  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  would  be  final.  I  should  hold  myself 
bound,  on  proof  of  deceit,  to  renounce  him  instantly." 

The  old  man  glanced  at  both  his  fair  supporters,  but  especially  at  Miss 
Mercy,  whom,  indeed,  he  looked  full  in  the  face,  with  a  greater  demon- 
stration of  interest  than  had  yet  appeared  m  his  features.  His  gaze- 
again  encountered  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  he  said,  composedly  : 

"  Of  course  you  know  that  he  has  made  his  matrimonial  choice  1" 

"  Oh  dear  !"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  rubbing  his  hair  up  very  stiff  upon 
his  head,  and  staring  wildly  at  his  daughters.  "  This  is  becoming 
tremendous  !" 

"  You  know  the  fact  T'  repeated  Martin. 

^'  Surely  not  without  his  grandfather  s  consent  and  approbation,  my 
dear  sir  !"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Don't  tell  me  that.  For  the  honour 
of  human  nature,  say  you  're  not  about  to  tell  me  that  ! " 

"  I  thought  he  had  suppressed  it !  "  said  the  old  man. 

The  indignation  felt  by  Mr.  Pecksniff  at  this  terrible  disclosure,  was 
only  to  be  equalled  by  the  kindling  anger  of  his  daughters.  What !  Had 
they  taken  to  their  hearth  and  home  a  secretly  contracted  serpent  j  a 
crocodile,  who  had  made  a  furtive  offer  of  his  hand  ;  an  imposition  on 
society ;  a  bankrupt  bachelor  with  no  effects,  trading  with  the  spinster 
world  on  false  pretences !  And  oh,  to  think  that  he  should  have  disobeyed 
and  practised  on  that  sweet,  that  venerable  gentleman,  whose  name  he- 
bore  ;  that  kind  and  tender  guardian ;  his  more  than  father — to  say 
nothing  at  all  of  mother — horrible,  horrible  !  To  turn  him  out  with 
ignominy  would  be  treatment,  much  too  good.  Was  there  nothing  else 
that  could  be  done  to  him  1  Had  he  incurred  no  legal  pains  and 
penalties  1  Could  it  be  that  the  statutes  of  the  land  were  so  remiss  as 
to  have  affixed  no  punishment  to  such  delinquency  %  Monster ;  how 
basely  had  they  been  deceived  ! 

"  I  am  glad  to  find  you  second  me  so  warmly,"  said  the  old  man^ 
holding  up  his  hand  to  'Stay  the  torrent  of  their  wrath.  "  I  will  not 
deny  that  it  is  a  pleasure  to  me  to  find  you  so  full  of  zeal.  We  will 
consider  that  topic  as  disposed  of." 

"  No,  my  dear  sir,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  not  as  disposed  of,  until  I 
have  purged  my  house  of  this  pollution." 

"  That  will  follow,"  said  the  old  man,  "  in  its  own  time.  I  look  upon 
that  as  done." 

"  You  are  very  good,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his 
hand.  "  You  do  me  honour.  You  may  look  upon  it  as  done,  I  assure 
you." 

"  There  is  another  topic,"  said  Martin,  "  on  which  I  hope  you  will 
assist  me.     You  remember  Mary,  cousin  V 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  123 

"The  young  lady  that  I  mentioned  to  you,  my  dears,  as  having 
interested  me  so  very  much,"  remarked  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Excuse  my 
interrupting  you,  sir." 

"  I  told  you  her  history ;"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Which  I  also  mentioned,  you  will  recollect,  my  dears,"  cried  Mr. 
Pecksniff.    "  Silly  girls,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit — quite  moved  by  it,  they  were  !" 

"  Why,  look  now  !"  said  Martin,  evidently  pleased :  "  I  feared  I  should 
have  had  to  urge  her  case  upon  you,  and  ask  you  to  regard  her  favorably 
for  my  sake.  But  I  find  you  have  no  jealousies  !  Well !  You  have  no 
cause  for  any,  to  be  sure.  She  has  nothing  to  gain  from  me,  my  dears^ 
and  she  knows  it." 

The  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  murmured  their  approval  of  this  wise  arrange- 
ment, and  their  cordial  sympathy  with  its  interesting  object. 

"  If  I  could  have  anticipated  what  has  come  to  pass  between  us  four," 
said  the  old  man,  thoughtfully  :  "  but  it  is  too  late  to  think  of  that. 
You  would  receive  her  courteously,  young  ladies,  and  be  kind  to  her,  if 
need  were?" 

Where  was  the  orphan  whom  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  would  not  have 
cherished  in  their  sisterly  bosom  !  But  when  that  orphan  was  commended 
to  their  care  by  one  on  whom  the  dammed-up  love  of  years  was  gushing 
forth,  what  exhaustless  stores  of  pure  affection  yearned  to  expend 
themselves  upon  her ! 

An  interval  ensued,  during  which  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  in  an  absent  frame 
of  mind,  sat  gazing  at  the  ground,  without  uttering  a  word  ;  and  as  it 
was  plain  that  he  had  no  desire  to  be  interrupted  in  his  meditations, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  daughters  were  profoundly  silent  also.  During 
the  whole  of  the  foregoing  dialogue,  he  had  borne  his  part  with  a  cold, 
passionless  promptitude,  as  though  he  had  learned  and  painfully  re- 
hearsed it  all,  a  hundred  times.  Even  when  his  expressions  were 
warmest  and  his  language  most  encouraging,  he  had  retained  the 
same  manner,  without  the  least  abatement.  But  now  there  was  a 
keener  brightness  in  his  eye,  and  more  expression  in  his  voice,  as  he  said, 
awakening  from  his  thoughtful  mood  : 

"  You  know  what  will  be  said  of  this  ?     Have  you  reflected  ?" 

"  Said  of  what,  my  dear  sir  ?"  Mr.  Pecksniff  asked. 

*•  Of  this  new  understanding  between  us." 

Vlr.  Pecksniff  looked  benevolently  sagacious,  and  at  the  same  time  far 
above  all  earthly  misconstruction,  as  he  shook  his  head,  and  observed 
that  a  great  many  things  would  be  said  of  it,  no  doubt. 

"  A  great  many,"  rejoined  the  old  man.  "  Some  will  say  that  I  dote 
in  my  old  age  ;  that  illness  has  shaken  me  ;  that  I  have  lost  all  strength 
of  mind  ;  and  have  grown  childish.     You  can  bear  that  V 

Mr.  Pecksniff  answered  that  it  would  be  dreadfully  hard  to  bear,  but 
he  thought  he  could,  if  he  made  a  great  effort. 

"  Others  will  say — I  speak  of  disappointed,  angry  people  only — that 
you  have  lied,  and  fawned,  and  wormed  yourself  through  dirty  ways  into 
my  favour  ;  by  such  concessions  and  such  crooked  deeds,  such  mean- 
nesses and  vile  endurances,  as  nothing  could  repay  :  no,  not  the  legacy 
of  half  the  world  we  live  in.     You  can  bear  that  1 " 


124  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

Mr.  Pecksniff  made  reply  that  this  would  he  also  yery  hard  to  bear,  as 
reflecting,  in  some  degree,  on  the  discernment  of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Still 
he  had  a  modest  confidence  that  he  could  sustain  the  calumny,  with  the 
help  of  a  good  conscience,  and  that  gentleman's  friendship. 

"  With  the  great  mass  of  slanderers,"  said  old  Martin,  leaning  back 
in  his  chair,  "  the  tale,  as  I  clearly  foresee,  will  run  thus :  That  to  mark 
my  contempt  for  the  rabble  whom  I  despised,  I  chose  from  among  them 
the  very  worst,  and  made  him  do  my  will,  and  pampered  and  enriched 
him  at  the  cost  of  all  the  rest.  That  after  casting  about  for  the  means 
of  a  punishment  which  should  rankle  in  the  bosoms  of  these  kites  the 
most,  and  strike  into  their  gall,  I  devised  this  scheme  at  a  time  when 
the  last  link  in  the  chain  of  grateful  love  and  duty,  that  held  me  to  my 
race,  was  roughly  snapped  asunder  :  roughly,  for  I  loved  him  well ; 
roughly,  for  I  had  ever  put  my  trust  in  his  affection  ;  roughly,  for  that 
he  broke  it  when  I  loved  him  most — God  help  me  ! — and  he  without  a 
pang  could  throw  me  off,  the  while  I  clung  about  his  heart !  Now," 
said  the  old  man,  dismissing  this  passionate  outburst,  as  suddenly  as  he 
had  yielded  to  it,  "  is  your  mind  made  up  to  bear  this  likewise  l  Lay 
your  account  with  having  it  to  bear,  and  put  no  trust  in  being  set  right 
by  me." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  cried  Pecksniff  in  an  ecstacy,  "  for  such 
a  man  as  you  have  shown  yourself  to  be  this  day  ;  for  a  man  so  injured, 
yet  so  very  humane  ;  for  a  man  so — I  am  at  a  loss  what  precise  term  to 
use — ^yet  at  the  same  time  so  remarkably — I  don't  know  how  to  express 
my  meaning  ;  for  such  a  man  as  I  have  described,  I  hope  it  is  no  pre- 
sumption to  say  that  I,  and  I  am  sure  I  may  add  my  children  also  (my 
dears,  we  perfectly  agree  in  this,  I  think?),  would  bear  anything  what- 
ever !" 

"  Enough,"  said  Martin.  "  You  can  charge  no  consequences  on  me. 
When  do  you  return  home  1 " 

"  Whenever  you  please,  my  dear  sir.     To-night,  if  you  desire  it." 

"  I  desire  nothing,"  returned  the  old  man,  "  that  is  unreasonable. 
Such  a  request  would  be.  Will  you  be  ready  to  return  at  the  end  of 
this  week?" 

The  very  time  of  all  others  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  would  have  suggested 
if  it  had  been  left  to  him  to  make  his  own  choice.  As  to  his  daughters 
— the  words,  "  Let  us  be  at  home  on  Saturday,  dear  pa,"  were  actually 
upon  their  lips. 

"  Your  expenses,  cousin,"  said  Martin,  taking  a  folded  slip  of  paper 
from  his  pocket-book,  "  may  possibly  exceed  that  amount.  If  so,  let  me 
know  the  balance  that  I  owe  you,  when  we  next  meet.  It  would  be 
useless  if  I  told  you  where  I  live  just  now  :  indeed,  I  have  no  fixed 
abode.  When  I  have,  you  shall  know  it.  You  and  your  daughters 
may  expect  to  see  me  before  long  :  in  the  mean  time  I  need  not  tell 
you,  that  we  keep  our  own  confidence.  What  you  will  do  when  you  get 
home,  is  understood  between  us.  Give  me  no  account  of  it  at  any  time  ; 
and  never  refer  to  it  in  any  way.  I  ask  that,  as  a  favour.  I  am  com- 
monly a  man  of  few  words,  cousin ;  and  all  that  need  be  said  just  now 
is  said,  I  think." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  125 

"  One  glass  of  wine — one  morsel  of  this  homely  cake  ?"  cried  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  venturing  to  detain  him.      "  My  dears  ! — " 

The  sisters  flew  to  wait  upon  him. 

"Poor  girls  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "You  will  excuse  their  agitation, 
my  dear  sir.  They  are  made  up  of  feeling.  A  bad  commodity  to 
go  through  the  world  with,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit !  My  youngest  daughter 
is  almost  as  much  of  a  woman  as  my  eldest,  is  she  not,  sir  V 

"  Which  is  the  youngest,"  asked  the  old  man. 

"  Mercy,  by  five  years,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  We  sometimes  venture 
to  consider  her  rather  a  fine  figure,  sir.  Speaking  as  an  artist,  I  may 
perhaps  be  permitted  to  suggest,  that  its  outline  is  graceful  and 
correct.  I  am  naturally,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  drying  his  hands  upon 
his  handkerchief,  and  looking  anxiously  in  his  cousin's  face  at  almost 
every  word,  "  proud,  if  I  may  use  the  expression,  to  have  a  daughter 
who  is  constructed  upon  the  best  models." 

"  She  seems  to  have  a  lively  disposition,"  observed  Martin. 

"  Dear  me  ! "  said  Mr,  Pecksniff,  "  that  is  quite  remarkable.  You 
have  defined  her  character,  my  dear  sir,  as  correctly  as  if  you  had 
known  her  from  her  birth.  She  has  a  lively  disposition.  I  assure  you, 
my  dear  sir,  that  in  our  unpretending  home,  her  gaiety  is  delightful." 

"  No  doubt,"  returned  the  old  man. 

"  Charity,  upon  the  other  hand,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  is  remarkable 
for  strong  sense,  and  for  rather  a  deep  tone  of  sentiment,  if  the  partiality 
of  a  father  may  be  excused  in  saying  so.  A  wonderful  affection 
between  them,  my  dear  sir  !  Allow  me  to  drink  your  health.  Bless  you !" 

"  I  little  thought,"  retorted  Martin,  "  but  a  month  ago,  that  I  should 
be  breaking  bread  and  pouring  wine  with  you.     I  drink  to  you." 

Not  at  all  abashed  by  the  extraordinary  abruptness  with  which  these 
latter  words  were  spoken,  Mr.  Pecksniff  thanked  him  devoutly. 

"  Now  let  me  go,"  said  Martin,  putting  down  the  wine  when  he  had 
merely  touched  it  with  his  lips.     "  My  dears,  good  morning  ! " 

But  this  distant  form  of  farewell  was  by  no  means  tender  enough  for 
the  yearnings  of  the  young  ladies,  who  again  embraced  him  with  all 
their  hearts — with  all  their  arms  at  any  rate — to  which  parting  caresses 
their  new-found  friend  submitted  with  a  better  grace  than  might  have 
been  expected  from  one  who,  not  a  moment  before,  had  pledged  their 
parent  in  such  a  very  uncomfortable  manner.  These  endearments 
terminated,  he  took  a  hasty  leave  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  withdrew, 
followed  to  the  door  by  both  father  and  daughters,  who  stood  there, 
kissing  their  hand's,  and  beaming  with  affection  until  he  disappeared  : 
though,  by  the  way,  he  never  once  looked  back,  after  he  had  crossed  the 
threshold. 

When  they  returned  into  the  house,  and  were  again  alone  in  Mrs. 
Todgers's  room,  the  two  young  ladies  exhibited  an  unusual  amount  of 
gaiety  ;  insomuch  that  they  clapped  their  hands,  and  laughed,  and 
looked  with  roguish  aspects  and  a  bantering  air  upon  their  dear  papa. 
This  conduct  was  so  very  unaccountable,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  (being 
singularly  grave  himself)  could  scarcely  choose  but  ask  them  what  it 
meant ;  and  took  them  to  task,  in  his  gentle  manner,  for  yielding  to 
such  light  emotions. 


126  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

"  If  it  was  possible  to  divine  any  cause  for  this  merriment,  even  the 
most  remote,"  he  said,  "  I  should  not  reprove  you.  But  when  you  can 
have  none  whatever  — oh,  really — really  ! " 

This  admonition  had  so  little  effect  on  Mercy,  that  she  was  obliged  to 
hold  her  handkerchief  before  her  rosy  lips,  and  to  throw  herself  back  in 
her  chair,  with  every  demonstration  of  extreme  amusement ;  which  want 
of  duty  so  offended  Mr.  Pecksniff  that  he  reproved  her  in  set  terms,  and 
gave  her  his  parental  advice  to  correct  herself  in  solitude  and  contem- 
plation. But  at  that  juncture  they  were  disturbed  by  the  sound  of 
voices  in  dispute ;  and  as  it  proceeded  from  the  next  room,  the  subject 
matter  of  the  altercation  quickly  reached  their  ears. 

"  I  don't  care  that  !  Mrs.  Todgers,"  said  the  young  gentleman  who 
had  been  the  youngest  gentleman  in  company  on  the  day  of  the  festival ; 
"  I  don't  care  that,  ma'am,"  said  he,  snapping  his  fingers,  "  for  Jinkins. 
Don't  suppose  I  do." 

"  I  am  quite  certain  you  don't,  sir,"  replied  Mrs.  Todgers.  "  You 
have  too  independent  a  spirit,  I  know,  to  yield  to  anybody.  And  quite 
right.  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should  give  way  to  any  gentleman. 
Everybody  must  be  well  aware  of  that." 

"  I  should  think  no  more  of  admitting  daylight  into  the  fellow,'* 
said  the  youngest  gentleman,  in  a  desperate  voice,  "  than  if  he  was  a 
bull-dog." 

Mrs.  Todgers  did  not  stop  to  inquire  whether,  as  a  matter  of  principle, 
there  was  any  particular  reason  for  admitting  daylight  even  into  a  bull- 
dog, otherwise  than  by  the  natural  channel  of  his  eyes  :  but  she  seemed 
to  wring  her  hands  :  and  she  moaned. 

"  Let  him  be  careful,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman.  "  I  give  him 
warning.  No  man  shall  step  between  me  and  the  current  of  my 
vengeance.  I  know  a  Cove — "  he  used  that  familiar  epithet  in  his 
agitation,  but  corrected  himself,  by  adding,  "  a  gentleman  of  property,  I 
mean,  who  practises  with  a  pair  of  pistols  (fellows  too,)  of  his  own.  If 
I  am  driven  to  borrow  'em,  and  to  send  a  friend  to  Jinkins, — a  tragedy 
will  get  into  the  papers.     That 's  all." 

Again  Mrs.  Todgers  moaned. 

"  I  have  borne  this  long  enough,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman,  "  but 
now  my  soul  rebels  against  it,  and  I  won't  stand  it  any  longer.  I  left 
home  originally,  because  I  had  that  within  me  which  wouldn't  be 
domineered  over  by  a  sister  ;  and  do  you  think  I'm  going  to  be  put 
down  by  him  1     No." 

"  It  is  very  wrong  in  Mr.  Jinkins  ;  I  know  it  is  perfectly  inexcusable 
in  Mr.  Jinkins,  if  he  intends  it,"  observed  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  If  he  intends  it  !"  cried  the  youngest  gentleman.  "  Don't  he  inter- 
rupt and  contradict  me  on  every  occasion  ?  Does  he  ever  fail  to  inter- 
pose himself  between  me  and  anything  or  anybody  that  he  sees  I  have 
set  my  mind  upon  %  Does  he  make  a  point  of  always  pretending  to 
forget  me,  when  he's  pouring  out  the  beer  ?  Does  he  make  bragging 
remarks  about  his  razors,  and  insulting  allusions  to  people  who  have  no 
necessity  to  shave  more  than  once  a  week  ?  But  let  him  look  out ;  he'll 
find  himself  shaved,  pretty  close,  before  long ;  and  so  I  tell  him  !'* 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  127 

The  young  gentleman  was  mistaken  in  this  closing  sentence,  inasmuch 
as  he  never  told  it  to  Jinkins,  but  always  to  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  However,"  he  said,  "  these  are  not  proper  subjects  for  ladies'  ears. 
All  I've  got  to  say  to  you,  Mrs,  Todgers,  is, — a  week's  notice  from  next 
Saturday.  The  same  house  can't  contain  that  miscreant  and  me  any 
longer.  If  we  get  over  the  intermediate  time  without  bloodshed,  you 
may  think  yourself  pretty  fortunate.     I  don't  myself  expect  we  shall." 

"  Dear,  dear  !"  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  "what  would  I  have  given  to  have 
prevented  this  !  To  lose  you,  sir,  would  be  like  losing  the  house's  right- 
hand.  So  popular  as  you  are  among  the  gentlemen  ;  so  generally  looked 
up  to  ;  and  so  much  liked  !  I  do  hope  you'll  think  better  of  it ;  if 
on  nobody  else's  account,  on  mine." 

"  There's  Jinkins,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman,  moodily.  "  Your 
favourite.  He'll  console  you  and  the  gentlemen  too  for  the  loss  of 
twenty  such  as  me.  I'm  not  understood  in  this  house.  I  never 
have  been." 

"  Don't  run  away  with  that  opinion,  sir  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  with  a 
show  of  honest  indignation,  "  Don't  make  such  a  charge  as  that  against 
the  establishment,  I  must  beg  of  you.  It  is  not  so  bad  as  that  comes  to, 
sir.  Make  any  remark  you  please  against  the  gentlemen,  or  against 
me ;  but  don't  say  you're  not  understood  in  this  house." 

"  I'm  not  treated  as  if  I  was,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman. 

"  There  you  make  a  great  mistake,  sir,"  returned  Mrs.  Todgers,  In  the 
same  strain.  "  As  many  of  the  gentlemen  and  I  have  often  said,  you 
are  too  sensitive.  That's  where  it  is.  You  are  of  too  susceptible  a 
nature  ;  it's  in  your  spirit." 

The  young  gentleman  coughed. 

"  And  as,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  as  to  Mr.  Jinkins,  I  must  beg  of  you, 
if  we  are  to  part,  to  understand  that  I  don't  abet  Mr.  Jinkins  by  any 
means.  Far  from  it.  I  could  wish  that  Mr.  Jinkins  would  take  a 
lower  tone  in  this  establishment  ;  and  would  not  be  the  means  of  raising- 
differences  between  me  and  gentlemen  that  I  can  much  less  bear  to  part 
with,  than  I  could  with  him.  Mr.  Jinkins  is  not  such  a  boarder,  sir," 
added  Mrs.  Todgers,  "that  all  considerations  of  private  feeling  and 
respect  give  way  before  him.     Quite  the  contrary,  I  assure  you." 

The  young  gentleman  was  so  much  mollified  by  these  and  similar 
speeches  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Todgers,  that  he  and  that  lady  gra- 
dually changed  positions  ;  so  that  she  became  the  injured  party,  and 
he  was  understood  to  be  the  injurer ;  but  in  a  complimentary,  not  in 
an  offensive  sense  ;  his  cruel  conduct  being  attributable  to  his  exalted 
nature,  and  to  that  alone.  So,  in  the  end,  the  young  gentleman  with- 
drew his  notice,  and  assured  Mrs.  Todgers  of  his  unalterable  regard  :  and 
having  done  so,  went  back  to  business. 

"  Goodness  me.  Miss  Pecksniffs  !"  cried  that  lady,  as  she  came  into  the 
back  room,  and  sat  wearily  down,  with  her  basket  on  her  knees,  and 
her  hands  folded  upon  it,  "  what  a  trial  of  temper  it  is  to  keep  a 
house  like  this  !  You  must  have  heard  most  of  what  has  just  passed. 
Now  did  you  ever  hear  the  like  1" 

"  Never  1"  said  the  two  Miss  Pecksnifis. 


128  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

"  Of  all  the  ridiculous  young  fellows  that  ever  I  had  to  deal  with,' 
resumed  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  that  is  the  most  ridiculous  and  unreasonable. 
Mr.  Jinkins  is  hard  upon  him  sometimes,  but  not  half  as  hard  as  he 
deserves.  To  mention  such  a  gentleman  as  Mr.  Jinkins,  in  the  same 
breath  with  Mm — you  know  it's  too  much  !  and  yet  he's  as  jealous  of 
him,  bless  you,  as  if  he  was  his  equal." 

The  young  ladies  were  greatly  entertained  by  Mrs.  Todgers's  account, 
no  less  than  with  certain  anecdotes  illustrative  of  the  youngest  gentle- 
man's character,  which  she  went  on  to  tell  them.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff 
looked  quite  stern  and  angry  :  and  when  she  had  concluded,  said  in  a 
solemn  voice  : 

"  Pray,  Mrs.  Todgers,  if  I  may  inquire,  what  does  that  young  gentle- 
man contribute  towards  the  support  of  these  premises  ?," 

"  Why,  sir,  for  what  he  has,  he  pays  about  eighteen  shillings  a  week," 
said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Eighteen  shillings  a  week  ! "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Taking  one  week  with  another  ;  as  near  that  as  possible,"  said  Mrs. 
Todgers. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  rose  from  his  chair,  folded  his  arms,  looked  at  her,  and 
shook  his  head. 

"  And  do  you  mean  to  say,  ma'am — is  it  possible,  Mrs.  Todgers — that 
for  such  a  miserable  consideration  as  eighteen  shillings  a  week,  a  female 
of  your  understanding  can  so  far  demean  herself  as  to  wear  a  double  face, 
even  for  an  instant  ?" 

"  I  am  forced  to  keep  things  on  the  square  if  I  can,  sir,"  faultered 
Mrs.  Todgers.  "  I  must  preserve  peace  among  them,  and  keep  my  con- 
nection together,  if  possible,  Mr.  Pecksniff.      The  profit  is  very  small." 

"  The  profit ! "  cried  that  gentleman,  laying  great  stress  upon  the  word. 
"  The  profit,  Mrs.  Todgers  !     You  amaze  me  !" 

He  was  so  severe,  that  Mrs.  Todgers  shed  tears. 

"  The  profit  !"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  The  profit  of  dissimulation  ! 
To  worship  the  golden  calf  of  Baal,  for  eighteen  shillings  a  week  !" 

"  Don't  in  your  own  goodness  be  too  hard  upon  me,  Mr.  Pecksniff," 
cried  Mrs.  Todgers,  taking  out  her  handkerchief 

"  Oh  Calf,  Calf ! "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff  mournfully.  "Oh  Baal,  Baal !  oh 
my  friend  Mrs.  Todgers  !  To  barter  away  that  precious  jewel,  self-esteem, 
and  cringe  to  any  mortal  creature — for  eighteen  shillings  a  week  !" 

He  was  so  subdued  and  overcome  by  the  reflection,  that  he  imme- 
diately took  down  his  hat  from  its  peg  in  the  passage,  and  went  out  for 
a  walk,  to  compose  his  feelings.  Anybody  passing  him  in  the  street 
might  have  known  him  for  a  good  man  at  first  sight ;  for  his  whole 
figure  teemed  with  a  consciousness  of  the  moral  homily  he  had  read  to 
Mrs.  Todgers. 

Eighteen  shillings  a  week  !  Just,  most  just,  thy  censure,  upright 
Pecksniff !  Had  it  been  for  the  sake  of  a  ribbon,  star,  or  garter  ; 
sleeves  of  lawn,  a  great  man's  smile,  a  seat  in  parliament,  a  tap  upon 
the  shoulder  from  a  courtly  sword  ;  a  place,  a  party,  or  a  thriving  lie, 
or  eighteen  thousand  pounds,  or  even  eighteen  hundred  ; — but  to 
worship  the  golden  calf  for  eighteen  shillings  a  week  !  oh  pitiful, 
pitiful ! 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  129 


CHAPTER  XL 

WHEREIN  A  CERTAIN  GENTLEMAN  BECOMES  PARTICULAR  IN  HIS  ATTEN- 
TIONS TO  A  CERTAIN  LADY  ;  AND  MORE  COMING  EVENTS  THAN  ONE, 
CAST    THEIR    SHADOWS    BEFORE. 

The  family  were  within  two  or  three  days  of  their  departure  from 
Mrs.  Todgers's,  and  the  commercial  gentlemen  were  to  a  man  despon- 
dent and  not  to  be  comforted,  because  of  the  approaching  separation, 
when  Bailey  junior,  at  the  jocund  time  of  noon,  presented  himself 
before  Miss  Charity  Pecksniff,  then  sitting  with  her  sister  in  the  banquet 
chamber,  hemming  six  new  pocket-handkerchiefs  for  Mr.  Jinkins  ;  and 
having  expressed  a  hope,  preliminary  and  pious,  that  he  might  be  blest, 
gave  her,  in  his  pleasant  way,  to  understand  that  a  visitor  attended  to 
pay  his  respects  to  her,  and  was  at  that  moment  waiting  in  the  draw- 
ing-room. Perhaps  this  last  announcement  showed  in  a  more  striking 
point  of  view  than  many  lengthened  speeches  could  have  done,  the 
trustfulness  and  faith  of  Bailey's  nature  ;  since  he  had,  in  fact,  last 
seen  the  visitor  upon  the  door-mat,  where,  after  signifying  to  him  that 
he  would  do  well  to  go  up-stairs,  he  had  left  him  to  the  guidance  of  his 
own  sagacity.  Hence  it  was  at  least  an  even  chance  that  the  visitor 
was  then  wandering  on  the  roof  of  the  house,  or  vainly  seeking  to  extri- 
cate himself  from  a  maze  of  bedrooms  ;  Todgers's  being  precisely  that 
kind  of  establishment  in  which  an  unpiloted  stranger  is  pretty  sure  to 
find  himself  in  some  place  where  he  least  expects  and  least  desires  to  be. 
"A  gentleman  for  me  !"  cried  Charity,  pausing  in  her  work;  "my 
gracious,  Bailey  !" 

"Ah!"  said  Bailey.  "It  is  my  gracious,  a'nt  it  1  Wouldn't  I  be 
gracious  neither,  not  if  I  wos  him  ! " 

The  remark  was  rendered  somewhat  obscure  in  itself,  by  reason  (as  the 
reader  may  have  observed)  of  a  redundancy  of  negatives  ;  but  accom- 
panied by  action  expressive  of  a  faithful  couple  walking  arm-in-arm 
towards  a  parochial  church,  mutually  exchanging  looks  of  love,  it  clearly 
signified  this  youth's  conviction  that  the  caller  s  purpose  was  of  an 
amorous  tendency.  Miss  Charity  afiected  to  reprove  so  great  a  liberty ; 
but  she  could  not  help  smiling.  He  was  a  strange  boy  to  be  sure. 
There  was  always  some  ground  of  probability  and  likelihood  mingled 
with  his  absurd  behaviour.     That  was  the  best  of  it  ! 

"  But  I  don't  know  any  gentleman,  Bailey,"  said  Miss  PecksniiT.  "  I 
think  you  must  have  made  a  mistake." 

IMr.  Bailey  smiled  at  the  extreme  wildness  of  such  a  supposition  ;  and 
regarded  the  young  ladies  with  unimpaired  affability. 

"'  My  dear  Merry,"  said  Charity,  "  who  can  it  be  ?     Isn't  it  odd  ?     I 

have  a  great  mind  not  to  go  to  him  really.  So  very  strange  you  know  ! " 

The  younger  sister  plainly  considered  that  this  appeal  had  its  origin 

in  the   pride   of  being  called   upon   and   asked  for  ;   and  that    it   was 

intended  as  an  assertion  of  superiority,  and  a  retaliation  upon  her  for 

K 


130  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES   OF 

having  captured  the  commercial  gentlemen.  Therefore,  she  replied,  with 
great  affection  and  politeness,  that  it  was,  no  doubt,  very  strange  indeed  ; 
and  that  she  was  totally  at  a  loss  to  conceive  what  the  ridiculous  person 
unknown  could  mean  by  it. 

"Quite  impossible  to  divine  !"  said  Charity,  with  some  sharpness,. 
"  though  still,  at  the  same  time,  you  needn't  be  angry  my  dear." 

"  Thank  you,"  retorted  Merry,  singing  at  her  needle.  "  I  am  quite 
aware  of  that,  my  love." 

"  I  am  afraid  your  head  is  turned,  you  silly  thing,"  said  Cherry. 

"  Do  you  know,  my  dear,"  said  Merry,  with  engaging  candour,  "  that 
I  have  been  afraid  of  that,  myself,  all  along  !  So  much  incense  and 
nonsense,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  is  enough  to  turn  a  stronger  head  than 
mine.  What  a  relief  it  must  be  to  you,  my  dear,  to  be  so  very  com- 
fortable in  that  respect,  and  not  to  be  worried  by  those  odious  men  ! 
How  do  you  do  it.  Cherry?" 

This  artless  inquiry  might  have  led  to  turbulent  results,  but  for  the 
strong  emotions  of  delight  evinced  by  Bailey  junior,  whose  relish  in  the 
turn  the  conversation  had  lately  taken  was  so  acute,  that  it  impelled  and 
forced  him  to  the  instantaneous  performance  of  a  dancing  step,  extremely 
difficult  in  its  nature,  and  only  to  be  achieved  in  a  moment  of  ecstacy, 
which  is  commonly  called  The  Frogs'  Hornpipe.  A  manifestation  so 
lively,  brought  to  their  immediate  recollection  the  great  virtuous  pre- 
cept, "  Keep  up  appearances  whatever  you  do,"  in  which  they  had  been 
educated.  They  forbore  at  once,  and  jointly  signified  to  Mr.  Bailey  that 
if  he  should  presume  to  practise  that  figure  any  more  in  their  presence, 
they  would  instantly  acquaint  Mrs.  Todgers  with  the  fact,  and  would 
demand  his  condign  punishment  at  the  hands  of  that  lady.  The  young 
gentleman  having  expressed  the  bitterness  of  his  contrition  by  affecting 
to  wipe  away  his  scalding  tears  with  his  apron,  and  afterwards  feigning 
to  wring  a  vast  amount  of  water  from  that  garment,  held  the  door  open 
while  Miss  Charity  passed  out ;  and  so  that  damsel  went  in  state  up-stairs 
to  receive  her  mysterious  adorer. 

By  some  strange  concurrence  of  favourable  circumstances  he  had  found 
out  the  drawing-room,  and  was  sitting  there  alone. 

"  Ah,  cousin  ! "  he  said.  "  Here  I  am,  you  see.  You  thought  I  was 
lost,  I'll  be  bound.     Well  !  how  do  you  find  yourself  by  this  time  V 

Miss  Charity  replied  that  she  was  quite  well ;  and  gave  Mr.  Jonas 
Chuzzlewit  her  hand. 

"  That 's  right,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  "  and  you  've  got  over  the  fatigues  of 
the  journey,  have  you  1  I  say — how's  the  other  one  V 

"  My  sister  is  very  well,  I  believe,"  returned  the  young  lady.  "  I  have 
not  heard  her  complain  of  any  indisposition,  sir.  Perhaps  you  would 
like  to  see  her,  and  ask  her  yourself?" 

"  No,  no,  cousin  !"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  sitting  down  beside  her  on  the 
window-seat.  "  Don't  be  in  a  hurry.  There 's  no  occasion  for  that,  you 
know.     What  a  cruel  girl  you  are  !" 

"  It's  impossible  for  yow  to  know,"  said  Cherry,  "  whether  I  am  or  not." 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Jonas.  "  I  say — did  you  think  I  was 
lost  ?     You  haven't  told  me  that." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  131 

■'■^^-i  didn't  think  at  all  about  it,"  answered  Cherry. 

"  Didn't  you,  though  ?"  said  Jonas,  pondering  upon  this  strange  reply. 
"Did  the  other  one  r' 

"  I  am  sure  it's  impossible  for  me  to  say  what  my  sister  may,  or  may 
not  have  thought  on  such  a  subject,"  cried  Cherry.  "  She  never  said 
anything  to  me  about  it,  one  way  or  other." 

"  Didn't  she  laugh  about  it  ?"  inquired  Jonas. 

"  No.     She  didn't  even  laugh  about  it,"  answered  Charity. 

"  She's  a  terrible  one  to  laugh,  an't  she  ?"  said  Jonas,  lowering  his  voice. 

"  She  is  very  lively,"  said  Cherry. 

"  Liveliness  is  a  pleasant  thing — when  it  don't  lead  to  spending 
money.     An't  if?"  asked  Mr.  Jonas. 

"  Very  much  so,  indeed,"  said  Cherry,  with  a  demureness  of  manner 
that  gave  a  very  disinterested  character  to  her  assent. 

"  Such  liveliness  as  yours  I  mean,  you  know,"  observed  Mr.  Jonas,  as 
he  nudged  her  with  his  elbow.  "  I  should  have  come  to  see  you  before, 
but  I  didn't  know  where  you  was.  How  quick  you  hurried  oif,  that 
morning  ! " 

'•'  I  was  amenable  to  my  Papa's  directions,"  said  Miss  Charity. 

"  I  wish  he  had  given  me  his  direction,"  returned  her  cousin,  "  and 
then  I  should  have  found  you  out  before.  Why,  I  shouldn't  have  found 
you  even  now,  if  I  hadn't  met  him  in  the  street  this  morning.  "\\  hat  a 
sleek,  sly  chap  he  is  !     Just  like  a  tom-cat,  an't  he  1" 

"  I  must  trouble  you  to  have  the  goodness  to  speak  more  respectfully 
of  my  Papa,  Mr.  Jonas,"  said  Charity.  "  I  can't  allow  such  a  tone  as 
that,  even  in  jest." 

'  Ecod,  you  may  say  what  you  like  of  m?/  father,  then,  and  so  I  give 
you  leave,"  said  Jonas.  "  I  think  it's  liquid  aggravation  that  circulates 
through  his  veins,  and  not  regular  blood.  How  old  should  you  think 
my  father  was,  cousin  V 

"  Old,  no  doubt,"  replied  Miss  Charity  ;  "  but  a  fine  old  gentleman." 

"  A  fine  old  gentleman  !"  repeated  Jonas,  giving  the  crown  of  his  hat 
an  angry  knock.  "  Ah  !  It's  time  he  was  thinking  of  being  drawn 
out  a  little  finer  too.     Why,  he's  eighty  !" 

'■'  Is  he,  indeed  ?"  said  the  young  lady. 

"  And  ecod,"  cried  Jonas,  "  now  he's  gone  so  far  without  giving  in,  I 
don't  see  much  to  prevent  his  being  ninety  ;  no,  nor  even  a  hundred. 
Why,  a  man  with  any  feeling  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  being  eighty — let 
alone  more.  Where's  his  religion  I  should  like  to  know,  when  he  goes 
flying  in  the  face  of  the  Bible  like  that !  Threescore-and-ten's  the 
mark  ;  and  no  man  with  a  conscience,  and  a  proper  sense  of  what's 
expected  of  him,  has  any  business  to  live  longer." 

Is  any  one  surprised  at  Mr.  Jonas  making  such  a  reference  to  such  a 
book  for  such  a  purpose  ?  Does  any  one  doubt  the  old  saw,  that  the 
Devil  (being  a  layman)  quotes  Scripture  for  his  own  ends  1  If  he  will 
take  the  trouble  to  look  about  him,  he  may  find  a  greater  number  of 
confirmations  of  the  fact,  in  the  occurrences  of  any  single  day,  than  the 
steam-gun  can  discharge  balls  in  a  minute. 

"  But  there's  enough  of  my  father,"  said  Jonas  ;  "  it's  of  no  use  to  ga 

k2 


132  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

putting  one's-self  out  of  tlie  way  by  talking  about  Mm.  I  called  to  ask 
you  to  come  and  take  a  walk,  cousin,  and  see  some  of  the  sights ;  and  to 
come  to  our  house  afterwards,  and  have  a  bit  of  something.  Pecksniff 
will  most  likely  look  in  in  the  evening,  he  says,  and  bring  you  home. 
See,  here's  his  'writing  ;  I  made  him  put  it  down  this  morning ;  when 
he  told  me  he  shouldn't  be  back  before  I  came  here  ;  in  case  you  wouldn't 
believe  me.  There's  nothing  like  proof,  is  there  ?  Ha,  ha  !  I  say — 
you'll  bring  the  other  one,  you  know  !" 

Miss  Charity  cast  her  eyes  upon  her  father's  autograph,  which  merely 
said — "  Go,  my  children,  with  your  cousin.  Let  there  be  union  among 
us  when  it  is  possible ;"  and  after  enough  of  hesitation  to  impart  a 
proper  value  to  her  consent,  withdrew,  to  prepare  her  sister  and  herself 
for  the  excursion.  She  soon  returned,  accompanied  by  Miss  Mercy,  who 
was  by  no  means  pleased  to  leave  the  brilliant  triumphs  of  Todgers's  for 
the  society  of  Mr.  Jonas  and  his  respected  father. 
"  Aha  !"  cried  Jonas.  "  There  you  are,  are  you  ]" 
"  Yes,  fright,"  said  Mercy,  "  here  I  am ;  and  I  would  much  rather  be 
anywhere  else,  I  assure  you." 

"  You  don't  mean  that,"  cried  Mr.  Jonas.  "  You  can't,  you  know. 
It  isn't  possible." 

"  You  can  have  what  opinion  you  like,  fright,"  retorted  Mercy.  "  I 
am  content  to  keep  mine  ;  and  mine  is  that  you  are  a  very  unpleasant, 
odious,  disagreeable  person."  Here  she  laughed  heartily,  and  seemed 
to  enjoy  herself  very  much. 

"Oh,  you're  a  sharp  gal !"  said  Mr.  Jonas.  "  She's  a  regular  teazer, 
an't  she,  cousin  1 " 

Miss  Charity  replied  in  effect,  that  she  was  unable  to  say  what  the 
habits  and  propensities  of  a  regular  teazer  might  be  ;  and  that  even  if 
she  possessed  such  information,  it  would  ill  become  her  to  admit  the 
existence  of  any  creature  with  such '  an  unceremonious  name  in  her 
family ;  far  less  in  the  person  of  a  beloved  sister,  "  whatever,"  added 
Cherry  with  an  angry  glance,  "  whatever  her  real  nature  may  be." 

"  Well,  my  dear  !"  said  Merry,  "  the  only  observation  I  have  to  make, 
is,  that  if  we  don't  go  out  at  once,  I  shall  certainly  take  my  bonnet  off 
again,  and  stay  at  home." 

This  threat  had  the  desired  effect  of  preventing  any  farther  altercation, 
for  Mr.  Jonas  immediately  proposed  an  adjournment,  and  the  same  being 
carried  unanimously,  they  departed  from  the  house  straightway.  On  the 
door-step,  Mr,  Jonas  gave  an  arm  to  each  cousin  ;  which  act  of  gallantry 
being  observed  by  Bailey  junior,  from  the  garret  window,  was  by  him 
saluted  with  a  loud  and  violent  fit  of  coughing,  to  which  paroxysm  he 
was  still  the  victim  when  they  turned  the  corner. 

Mr.  Jonas  inquired  in  the  first  instance  if  they  were  good  walkers,  and 
being  answered  "  Yes,"  submitted  their  pedestrian  powers  to  a  pretty- 
severe  test ;  for  he  showed  them  as  many  sights,  in  the  way  of  bridges, 
churches,  streets,  outsides  of  theatres,  and  other  free  spectacles,  in  tliat 
one  forenoon,  as  most  people  see  in  a  twelvemonth.  It  was  observable 
in  this  gentleman  that  he  had  an  insurmountable  distaste  to  the  insides 
of  buildings ;  and  that  he  was  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  merits  of  all 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  133 

shows,  in  respect  of  wliich  there  -was  any  charge  for  admission,  which  it 
seemed  were  every  one  detestable,  and  of  the  very  lowest  grade  of  merit. 
He  was  so  thoroughly  possessed  with  this  opinion,  that  when  Miss  Charity 
happened  to  mention  the  circumstance  of  their  having  been  twice  or 
thrice  to  the  theatre  with  Mr.  Jinkins  and  party,  he  inquired,  as  a 
matter  of  course,  "where  the  orders  came  from?"  and  being  told  that 
Mr.  Jinkins  and  party  paid,  was  beyond  description  entertained, 
observing  that  "they  must  be  nice  flats,  certainly;''  and  often  in  the 
course  of  the  walk,  bursting  out  again  into  a  perfect  convulsion  of 
laughter  at  the  surpassing  silliness  of  those  gentlemen,  and  (doubtless)  at 
his  own  superioi:  wisdom. 

When  they  had  been  out  for  some  hours  and  were  thoroughly  fatigued, 
it  being  by  that  time  twilight,  Mr.  Jonas  intimated  that  he  would 
show  them  one  of  the  best  pieces  of  fun  with  which  he  was  acquainted. 
This  joke  was  of  a  practical  kind,  and  its  humour  lay  in  taking  a  hackney- 
coach  to  the  extreme  limits  of  possibility  for  a  shilling.  Happily  it 
brought  them  to  the  place  where  Mr.  Jonas  dwelt,  or  the  young  ladies 
might  have  rather  missed  the  point  and  cream  of  the  jest. 

The  old-established  firm  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and  Son,  Manchester 
Yf  arehousemen,  and  so  forth,  had  its  place  of  business  in  a  very  narrow 
street  somewhere  behind  the  Post  Office ;  where  every  house  was  in 
the  brightest  summer  morning  very  gloomy;  and  where  light  porters 
watered  the  pavement,  each  before  his  own  employer's  premises,  in 
fixntastic  patterns,  in  the  dog-days  ;  and  where  spruce  gentlemen  with 
their  hands  in  the  pockets  of  symmetrical  trousers,  were  always  to 
be  seen  in  warm  weather  contemplating  their  undeniable  boots  in  dusty 
warehouse  doorways,  which  appeared  to  be  the  hardest  work  they  did, 
except  now  and  then  carrying  pens  behind  their  ears.  A  dim,  dirty, 
smoky,  tumble-down,  rotten  old  house  it  was,  as  anybody  would  desire 
to  see ;  but  there  the  firm  of  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  and  Son  transacted 
all  their  business  and  their  pleasure  too,  such  as  it  was  ;  for  neither  the 
young  man  nor  the  old  had  any  other  residence,  or  any  care  or  thought 
beyond  its  narrow  limits. 

Business,  as  may  be  readily  supposed,  was  the  main  thing  in  this 
establishment ;  insomuch  indeed  that  it  shouldered  comfort  out  of  doors, 
and  jostled  the  domestic  arrangements  at  every  turn.  Thus  in  the 
miserable  bed-rooms  there  were  files  of  moth-eaten  letters  hanging  up 
against  the  walls  ;  and  linen  rollers,  and  fragments  of  old  patterns,  and 
odds  and  ends  of  spoiled  goods,  strewn  upon  the  ground ;  while  the  meagre 
bedsteads,  washing-stands,  and  scraps  of  carpet,  were  huddled  away  into 
corners  as  objects  of  secondary  consideration,  not  to  be  thought  of  but 
as  disagreeable  necessities,  furnishing  no  profit,  and  intruding  on  the 
one  afiair  of  life.  The  single  sitting-room  was  on  the  same  principle, 
a  chaos  of  boxes  and  old  papers,  and  had  more  counting-house  stools 
in  it  than  chairs  :  not  to  mention  a  great  monster  of  a  desk  strad- 
dling over  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  an  iron  safe  sunk  into  the  wall 
above  the  fire-place.  The  solitary  little  table  for  purposes  of  refection 
and  social  enjoyment,  bore  as  fair  a  proportion  to  the  desk  and  other 
business   furniture,    as    the   graces    and    harmless    relaxations    of    life 


134  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

liad  ever  done,  in  the  persons  of  the  old  man  and  his  son,  to  their 
pursuit  of  wealth.  It  was  meanly  laid  out,  now,  for  dinner  ;  and  in 
a  chair  before  the  fire,  sat  Anthony  himself,  who  rose  to  greet  his  son 
and  his  fair  cousins  as  they  entered. 

An  ancient  proverb  warns  us  that  we  should  not  expect  to  find  old 
heads  upon  young  shoulders  ;  to  which  it  may  be  added  that  we  seldom 
meet  with  that  unnatural  combination,  but  we  feel  a  strong  desire  to 
knock  them  off ;  merely  from  an  inherent  love  we  have  of  seeing  tilings 
in  their  right  places.  It  is  not  improbable  that  many  men,  in  no  wise 
choleric  by  nature,  felt  this  impulse  rising  up  within  them,  when  they 
first  made  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Jonas  ;  but  if  they  had  known 
him  more  intimately  in  his  own  house,  and  had  sat  with  him  at 
his  own  board,  it  would  assuredly  have  been  paramount  to  all  other 
considerations. 

"  Well,  ghost  ! "  said  Mr.  Jonas,  dutifully  addressing  his  parent  by 
that  title.     "  Is  dinner  nearly  ready  1 " 

"  I  should  think  it  was,"  rejoined  the  old  man. 

"What's  the  good  of  that?"  rejoined  the  son.  "/should  think  it 
was.     I  want  to  know." 

"  Ah  !  I  don't  know  for  certain,"  said  Anthony. 

"You  don't  know  for  certain,"  rejoined  his  son  in  a  lower  tone. 
"  No.  You  don't  know  anything  for  certain,  ?/ou  don't.  Give  me  your 
candle  here.     I  want  it  for  the  gals." 

Anthony  handed  him  a  battered  old  office  candlestick,  with  which 
Mr.  Jonas  preceded  the  young  ladies  to  the  nearest  bedroom,  where  he 
left  them  to  take  off  their  shawls  and  bonnets  ;  and  returning,  occupied 
himself  in  opening  a  bottle  of  wine,  sharpening  the  carving-knife,  and 
muttering  compliments  to  his  father,  until  they  and  the  dinner  appeared 
together.  The  repast  consisted  of  a  hot  leg  of  mutton  with  greens  and 
potatoes  ;  and  the  dishes  having  been  set  upon  the  table  by  a  slipshod 
old  woman,  they  were  left  to  enjoy  it  after  their  own  manner. 

"  Bachelor's  Hall  you  know,  cousin,"  said  Mr.  Jonas  to  Charity.  "  I 
say — the  other  one  will  be  having  a  laugh  at  this  when  she  gets  home, 
won't  she  1  Here  ;  you  sit  on  the  right  side  of  me,  and  I'll  have  her 
upon  the  left.     Other  one,  Avill  you  come  here  V 

"  You're  such  a  fright,"  replied  Mercy,  "  that  I  know  I  shall  have  no 
appetite  if  I  sit  so  near  you  ;  but  I  suppose  I  must." 

"An't  she  lively?"  whispered  Mr.  Jonas  to  the  elder  sister,  with  his 
favourite  elbow  emphasis. 

"  Oh  I  really  don't  know!"  replied  Miss  Pecksniff,  tartly.  "I  am 
tired  of  being  asked  such  ridiculous  questions." 

"  What's  that  precious  old  father  of  mine  about  now  ? "  said  Mr. 
Jonas,  seeing  that  his  parent  was  travelling  up  and  down  the  room, 
instead  of  taking  his  seat  at  table.     "  What  are  you  looking  for?" 

"  I've  lost  my  glasses,  Jonas,"  said  old  Anthony. 

"  Sit  down  without  your  glasses,  can't  you  V  returned  his  son.  "  You 
don't  eat  or  drink  out  of  'em,  I  think  ;  and  where's  that  sleepy-headed 
old  Chuffey  got  to  !     Now,  stupid.     Oh  !  you  know  your  name,  do  you?" 

It  would  seem  that  he  didn't,  for  he  didn't  come  until  the  father 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  135 

called.  As  he  spoke,  the  door  of  a  small  glass  office,  which  was  par- 
titioned off  from  the  rest  of  the  room,  was  slowly  opened,  and  a  little  blear- 
eyed,  weazen-faced,  ancient  man  came  creeping  out.  He  was  of  a  remote 
fashion,  and  dusty,  like  the  rest  of  the  furniture  ;  he  was  dressed  in  a 
decayed  suit  of  black  ;  with  breeches  garnished  at  the  knees  with  rusty 
wisps  of  ribbon,  the  very  paupers  of  shoe-strings  ;  on  the  lower 
portion  of  his  spindle  legs  were  dingy  worsted  stockings  of  the  same 
colour.  He  looked  as  if  he  had  been  put  away  and  forgotten  half  a 
century  before,  and  somebody  had  just  found  him  in  a  lumber-closet. 

Such  as  he  was,  he  came  slowly  creeping  on  towards  the  table,  until 
at  last  he  crept  into  the  vacant  chair,  from  which,  as  his  dim  faculties 
became  conscious  of  the  presence  of  strangers,  and  those  strangers  ladies, 
he  rose  again,  apparently  intending  to  make  a  bow.  But  he  sat  down 
once  more,  without  having  made  it,  and  breathing  on  his  shrivelled  hands 
to  warm  them,  remained  with  his  poor  blue  nose  immoveable  above  his 
plate,  looking  at  nothing,  with  eyes  that  saw  nothing,  and  a  face  that 
meant  nothing.  Take  him  in  that  state,  and  he  was  an  embodiment  of 
nothing.     Nothing  else. 

"  Our  clerk,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  as  host  and  master  of  the  ceremonies  : 
'^  Old  Chuffey." 

"  Is  he  deaf?"  inquired  one  of  the  young  ladies. 

"  No,  I  don't  know  that  he  is.     He  an't  deaf,  is  he  father?" 

*'  I  never  heard  him  say  he  was,"  replied  the  old  man. 

"  Blind  1 "  inquired  the  young  ladies. 

"  N — no.  I  never  understood  that  he  was  at  all  blind,"  said  Jonas, 
carelessly.     "  You  don't  consider  him  so,  do  you  father?" 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Anthony. 

"What  is  he  then?" 

"  Why,  I'll  tell  you  what  he  is,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  apart  to  the  young 
ladies,  "  he's  precious  old,  for  one  thing ;  and  I  an't  best  pleased  with 
him  for  that,  for  I  think  my  father  must  have  caught  it  of  him.  He 's 
a  strange  old  chap,  for  another,"  he  added  in  a  louder  voice,  "  and  don't 
understand  any  one  hardly,  but  him!"  He  pointed  to  his  honoured  parent 
with  the  carving-fork,  in  order  that  they  might  know  whom  he  meant. 

"  How  very  strange  ! "  cried  the  sisters. 

"  Why,  you  see,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  "  he's  been  addling  his  old  brains 
with  figures  and  book-keeping  all  his  life  ;  and  twenty  year  ago  or  so 
he  went  and  took  a  fever.  All  the  time  he  was  out  of  his  head  (which 
was  three  weeks)  he  never  left  off  casting  up  ;  and  he  got  to  so  many 
million  at  last  that  I  don't  believe  he's  ever  been  quite  right  since.  We 
don't  do  much  business  now  though,  and  he  an't  a  bad  clerk." 

"  A  very  good  one,"  said  Anthony. 

"  Well !  He  an't  a  dear  one  at  all  events,"  observed  Jonas ;  "  and 
he  earns  his  salt,  which  is  enough  for  our  look-out.  I  was  telling  you 
that  he  hardly  understands  any  one  except  my  father ;  he  always  un- 
derstands him,  though,  and  wakes  up  quite  wonderful.  He  's  been  used  to 
his  ways  so  long,  you  see  !  Why,  I've  seen  him  play  whist,  with  my  father 
for  a  partner  ;  and  a  good  rubber  too  ;  when  he  had  no  more  notion 
what  sort  of  people  he  was  playing  against,  than  you  have."  u,^:???  ci- 


136  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"Has  lie  no  appetite?"  asked  Merrv. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  Jonas,  plying  his  own  knife  and  fork  very  fast.  "  He 
eats — when  he's  helped.  But  he  don't  care  whether  he  waits  a  minute  or 
an  hour,  as  long  as  father's  here ;  so  when  I'm  at  all  sharp  set,  as  I  am 
to-day,  I  come  to  him  after  I've  taken  the  edge  off  my  own  hunger  you 
know.     Now  Chuffey,  stupid,  are  you  ready?" 

Chuffey  remained  immoveable. 

"  Always  a  perverse  old  file,  he  was,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  coolly  helping 
himself  to  another  slice.     "  Ask  him,  father." 

"  Are  you  ready  for  your  dinner,  Chuffey  ?"  asked  the  old  man. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Chuffey,  lighting  up  into  a  sentient  human 
creature  at  the  first  sound  of  the  voice,  so  that  it  was  at  once  a  curious 
and  quite  a  moving  sight  to  see  him.  "  Yes,  yes.  Quite  ready,  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit.  Quite  ready.  Sir.  All  ready,  all  ready,  all  ready."  With 
that  he  stopped,  smilingly,  and  listened  for  some  further  address  ;  but 
being  spoken  to  no  more,  the  light  forsook  his  face  by  little  and  little, 
until  he  was  nothing  again. 

"  He  '11  be  very  disagreeable,  mind,"  said  Jonas,  addressing  his  cousins 
as  he  handed  the  old  man's  portion  to  his  father.  "  He  always  chokes 
himself  when  it  an't  broth.  Look  at  him,  now  !  Did  you  ever  see  a 
horse  with  such  a  wall-eyed  expression  as  he 's  got  1  If  it  hadn't  been 
for  the  joke  of  it,  I  wouldn't  have  let  him  come  in  to-day;  but  I 
thought  he'd  amuse  you." 

The  poor  old  subject  of  this  humane  speech,  was,  happily  for  himself, 
as  unconscious  of  its  purport,  as  of  most  other  remarks  that  were  made 
in  his  presence.  But  the  mutton  being  tough,  and  his  gums  weak,  he 
quickly  verified  the  statement  relative  to  his  choking  propensities,  and 
underwent  so  much  in  his  attempts  to  dine,  that  Mr.  Jonas  was  in- 
finitely amused  :  protesting  that  he  had  seldom  seen  him  better  company 
in  all  his  life,  and  that  he  was  enough  to  make  a  man  split  his  sides 
with  laughing.  Indeed,  he  went  so  far  as  to  assure  the  sisters,  that  in 
this  point  of  view  he  considered  Chuffey  superior  to  his  own  father ; 
which,  as  he  significantly  added,  was  saying  a  great  deal. 

It  was  strange  enough  that  Anthony  Chuzzlewit,  himself  so  old  a 
man,  should  take  a  pleasure  in  these  gibings  of  his  estimable  son,  at  the 
expense  of  the  poor  shadow  at  their  table.  But  he  did,  unquestionably  : 
though  not  so  much — to  do  him  justice — with  reference  to  their  ancient 
clerk,  as  in  exultation  at  the  sharpness  of  Jonas.  For  the  same  reason, 
that  young  man's  coarse  allusions,  even  to  himself,  fiJled  him  with  a 
stealthy  glee  :  causing  him  to  rub  his  hands  and  chuckle  covertly,  as  if 
he  said  in  his  sleeve,  "  /  taught  him.  /  trained  him.  This  is  the  heir 
of  my  bringing-up.  Sly,  cunning,  and  covetous,  he'll  not  squander  my 
money.  I  worked  for  this  ;  I  hoped  for  this  ;  it  has  been  the  great  end 
and  aim  of  my  life." 

What  a  noble  end  and  aim  it  was  to  contemplate  in  the  attainment, 
truly  !  But  there  be  some  who  manufacture  idols  after  the  fashion  of 
themselves,  and  fail  to  worship  them  when  they  are  made ;  charging 
their  deformity  on  outraged  nature.  Anthony  was  better  than  these  at 
any  rate. 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  137 

ChufFey  boggled  over  his  plate  so  long,  that  Mr.  Jonas,  losing  patience, 
took  it  from  him.  at  last  with  his  own  hands,  and  requested  his  father 
to  signify  to  that  venerable  person  that  he  had  better  "  peg  away  at  his 
bread  :"  which  Anthony  did. 

"  Aye,  aye  ! "  cried  the  old  man,  brightening  up  as  before,  when  this 
was  communicated  to  him  in  the  same  voice  ;  "  quite  right,  quite  right. 
He's  your  own  son,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit !  Bless  him  for  a  sharp  lad  !  Bless 
him,  bless  him  !"' 

Mr.  Jonas  considered  this  so  particularly  childish, — perhaps  with  some 
reason — that  he  only  laughed  the  more,  and  told  his  cousins  that  he  was 
afraid  one  of  these  fine  days,  Cliuffey  would  be  the  death  of  him.  The 
cloth  was  then  removed,  and  the  bottle  of  wine  set  upon  the  table,  from 
which  Mr.  Jonas  filled  the  young  ladies'  glasses,  calling  on  them  not  to 
spare  it,  as  they  might  be  certain  there  was  plenty  more  where  that  came 
from.  But,  he  added  with  some  haste  after  this  sally,  that  it  was  only 
his  joke,  and  they  wouldn't  suppose  him  to  be  in  earnest,  he  was  sure. 

"  I  shall  drink,"  said  Anthony,  "  to  Pecksniff.  Your  father,  my 
dears.  A  clever  man,  Pecksniff.  A  wary  man  !  A  hypocrite,  though, 
eh  1  A  hypocrite,  girls,  eh  1  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Well,  so  he  is.  Now, 
among  friends — he  is.  I  don't  think  the  worse  of  him  for  that,  unless 
it  is  that  he  overdoes  it.  You  may  overdo  anything,  my  darlings.  You 
may  overdo  even  hypocrisy.     Ask  Jonas  !  " 

"  You  can't  overdo  taking  care  of  yourself,"  observed  that  hopeful 
gentleman  with  his  mouth  full. 

"  Do  you  hear  that,  my  dears  ? "  cried  Anthony,  quite  enraptured. 
"  Wisdom,  wisdom  !  A  good  exception,  Jonas.  No.  It's  not  easy  to 
overdo  that." 

"  Except,"  whispered  Mr.  Jonas  to  his  favourite  cousin,  "  except  when 
one  lives  too  long.     Ha,  ha  !     Tell  the  other  one  that — I  say  !  " 

"  Good  gracious  me  ! "  said  Cherry,  in  a  petulant  manner.  "  You 
can  tell  her  yourself,  if  you  wish,  can't  you  1  " 

"  She  seems  to  make  such  game  of  one,"  replied  Mr.  Jonas. 
'•  Then   why  need  you  trouble  yourself  about  her  ?  "    said  Charity, 
''  I  am  sure  she  doesn't  trouble  herself  much  about  you." 
"  Don't  she  though  ?  "  asked  Jonas. 

"Good  gracious  me,  need  I  tell  you  that  she  don't?"  returned  the 
young  lady. 

Mr.  Jonas  made  no  verbal  rejoinder,  but  he  glanced  at  Mercy  with  an  odd 
expression  in  his  face  ;  and  said  that  Avouldn't  break  his  heart,  she  might 
depend  upon  it.  Then  he  looked  on  Charity  with  even  greater  favour  than 
before,  and  besought  her,  as  his  polite  manner  was,  to  "come  a  little  closer." 
"  There's  another  thing  that's  not  easily  overdone,  father,"  remarked 
Jonas,  after  a  short  silence. 

"  What's  that  ?"  asked  the  father  ;  grinning  already  in  anticipation. 
"A  bargain,"    said   the  son.     "Here's  the  rule  for  bargains — 'Do 
other  men,  for  they  would  do  you.'     That's  the  true  business  precept. 
All  others  are  counterfeits." 

The  delighted  father  applauded  this  sentiment  to  the  echo  ;  and  was  so 
much  tickled  by  it,  that  he  was  at  the  pains  of  imparting  the  same  to  his 


138  LIFE    AND    ADYENTURES    OP 

ancient  clerk,  who  rubbed  his  hands,  nodded  his  palsied  head,  winked  his 
watery  eyes,  and  cried  in  his  whistling  tones,  "  Good  !  good  !  Your 
own  son,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  !  "  with  every  feeble  demonstration  of  delight 
that  he  was  capable  of  making.  But  this  old  man's  enthusiasm  had  the 
redeeming  quality  of  being  felt  in  sympathy  with  the  only  creature  to 
whom  he  was  linked  by  ties  of  long  association,  and  by  his  present 
helplessness.  And  if  there  had  been  anybody  there,  who  cared  to  think 
about  it,  some  dregs  of  a  better  nature  unawakened,  might  perhaps  have 
been  descried  through  that  very  medium,  melancholy  though  it  was,  yet 
lingering  at  the  bottom  of  the  worn-out  cask,  called  Chuffey. 

As  matters  stood,  nobody  thought  or  said  anything  upon  the  subject ; 
so  Chuifey  fell  back  into  a  dark  corner  on  one  side  of  the  fire-place, 
where  he  always  spent  his  evenings,  and  was  neither  seen  nor  heard 
again  that  night ;  save  once,  when  a  cup  of  tea  was  given  him,  in  which 
he  was  seen  to  soak  his  bread  mechanically.  There  was  no  reason  to 
suppose  that  he  went  to  sleep  at  these  seasons,  or  that  he  heard,  or  saw, 
or  felt,  or  thought.  He  remained,  as  it  were,  frozen  up — if  any  term 
expressive  of  such  a  vigorous  process  can  be  applied  to  him — until  he 
was  again  thawed  for  the  moment  by  a  word  or  touch  from  Anthony. 

Miss  Charity  made  tea  by  desire  of  Mr.  Jonas,  and  felt  and  looked  so 
like  the  lady  of  the  house,  that  she  was  in  the  prettiest  confusion 
imaginable  ;  the  more  so,  from  Mr.  Jonas  sitting  close  beside  her,  and 
whispering  a  variety  of  admiring  expressions  in  her  ear.  Miss  Mercy, 
for  her  part,  felt  the  entertainment  of  the  evening  to  be  so  distinctly 
and  exclusively  theirs,  that  she  silently  deplored  the  commercial 
gentlemen — at  that  moment,  no  doubt,  wearying  for  her  return — and 
yawned  over  yesterday's  newspaper.  As  to  Anthony,  he  went  to  sleep 
outright,  so  Jonas  and  Cherry  had  a  clear  stage  to  themselves  as  long  as 
they  chose  to  keep  possession  of  it. 

When  the  tea-tray  was  taken  away,  as  it  was  at  last,  Mr.  Jonas  pro- 
duced a  dirty  pack  of  cards,  and  entertained  the  sisters  with  divers  small 
feats  of  dexterity  :  whereof  the  main  purpose  of  every  one  was,  that  you 
were  to  decoy  somebody  into  laying  a  wager  with  you  that  you  couldn't 
do  it ;  and  were  then  immediately  to  win  and  pocket  his  money.  Mr. 
Jonas  informed  them  that  these  accomplishments  were  in  high  vogue  in 
the  most  intellectual  circles,  and  that  large  amounts  were  constantly 
changing  hands  on  such  hazards.  And  it  may  be  remarked  that  he  fully 
believed  this ;  for  there  is  a  simplicity  of  cunning  no  less  than  a 
simplicity  of  innocence ;  and  in  all  matters  where  a  lively  faith  in 
knavery  and  meanness  was  required  as  the  groundwork  of  belief,  Mr. 
Jonas  was  one  of  the  most  credulous  of  men.  His  ignorance,  which  was 
stupendous,  may  be  taken  into  account,  if  the  reader  pleases,  separately. 

This  fine  young  man  had  all  the  inclination  to  be  a  profligate  of  the 
first  water,  and  only  lacked  the  one  good  trait  in  the  common  catalogue 
of  debauched  vices — open-handedness — to  be  a  notable  vagabond.  But 
there  his  griping  and  penurious  habits  stepped  in  ;  and  as  one  poison 
will  sometimes  neutralize  another,  when  wholesome  remedies  would  not 
avail,  so  he  was  restrained  by  a  bad  passion  from  quaffing  his  full  measure 
^f  evil,  when  virtue  might  have  sought  to  hold  him  back  in  vain,  '♦aioifc 


-^^  /oTZ^;^  ' ^^A^/A^^A^lAi/\s,9t^J-a^y9U  ^6^   c^uJ^-?^. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  139 

By  the  time  he  had  unfolded  all  the  peddling  schemes  he  knew  upon 
the  cards,  it  was  growing  late  in  the  evening  ;  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  not 
making  his  appearance,  the  young  ladies  expressed  a  wish  to  return 
home.  But  this,  Mr.  Jonas,  in  his  gallantry,  would  by  no  means  allow, 
until  they  had  partaken  of  some  bread  and  cheese  and  porter  ;  and  even 
then  he  was  excessively  uuAvilling  to  allow  them  to  depart ;  often 
beseeching  Miss  Charity  to  come  a  little  closer,  or  to  stop  a  little  longer, 
and  preferring  many  other  complimentary  petitions  of  that  nature,  in 
his  owTi  hospitable  and  earnest  way.  When  all  his  efforts  to  detain 
them  were  fruitless,  he  put  on  his  hat  and  great-coat  preparatory  to 
escorting  them  to  Todgers's ;  remarking  that  he  knew  they  would 
rather  walk  thither  than  ride ;  and  that  for  his  part  he  was  quite  of 
their  opinion. 

"  Good  night,"  said  Anthony.  "  Good  night ;  remember  me  to — ha, 
lia,  ha  ! — to  Pecksniff.  Take  care  of  your  cousin,  my  dears  ;  beware 
of  Jonas;  he's  a  dangerous  fellow.  Don't  quarrel  for  him,  in  any 
case!" 

"Oh,  the  creature!"  cried  Mercy.  "The  idea  of  quarrelling  for 
him  !  You  may  take  him  Cherry,  my  love,  all  to  yourself.  I  make 
you  a  present  of  my  share." 

"What  !     Pm  a  sour  grape,  am  I,  cousin?"  said  Jonas. 

Miss  Charity  was  more  entertained  by  this  repartee  than  one  would 
have  supposed  likely,  considering  its  advanced  age  and  simple  character. 
But  in  her  sisterly  affection  she  took  Mr.  Jonas  to  task  for  leaning  so 
very  hard  upon  a  broken  reed,  and  said  that  he  must  not  be  so  cruel  to 
poor  Merry  any  more,  or  she  (Charity)  would  positively  be  obliged  to 
hate  him.  Mercy,  who  really  had  her  share  of  good-humour,  only 
retorted  with  a  laugh  ;  and  they  walked  home  in  consequence  without 
any  angry  passages  of  words  upon  the  way.  Mr.  Jonas  being  in  the 
middle,  and  having  a  cousin  on  each  arm,  sometimes  squeezed  the  ^vrong 
one  ;  so  tightly  too,  as  to  cause  her  not  a  little  inconvenience  ;  but  as  he 
talked  to  Charity  in  whispers  the  whole  time,  and  paid  her  great  atten- 
tion, no  doubt  this  was  an  accidental  circumstance.  When  they  arrived 
at  Todgers's,  and  the  door  was  opened,  Mercy  broke  hastily  from  them, 
and  ran  up-stairs  ;  but  Charity  and  Jonas  lingered  on  the  steps  talking 
together  for  more  than  five  minutes  ;  so,  as  Mrs.  Todgers  observed  next 
morning,  to  a  third  party,  "  It  was  pretty  clear  what  was  going  on  therCy 
and  she  was  glad  of  it,  for  it  really  was  high  time  Miss  Pecksniff  thought 
of  settling." 

And  now  the  day  was  coming  on,  when  that  bright  vision  which  had 
burst  on  Todgers's  so  suddenly,  and  made  a  sunshine  in  the  shady  breast 
of  Jinkins,  was  to  be  seen  no  more ;  when  it  was  to  be  packed  like  a 
brown  paper  parcel,  or  a  fish-basket,  or  an  oyster-barrel,  or  a  fat  gentle- 
man, or  any  other  dull  reality  of  life,  in  a  stage-coach,  and  carried  down 
into  the  country  ! 

"Never,  my  dear  Miss  Pecksniffs,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  when  they 
retired  to  rest  on  the  last  night  of  their  stay  ;  "  never  have  I  seen  an 
'establishment  so  perfectly  broken-hearted  as  mine  is  at  this  present 
moment  of  time.     I  don't  believe  the  gentlemen  will  be  the  gentlemen 


140  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

they  were,  or  anything  like  it — no,  not  for  weeks  to  come.  You  have  a 
great  deal  to  answer  for  ;  both  of  you." 

They  modestly  disclaimed  any  wilful  agency  in  this  disastrous  state  of 
things,  and  regretted  it  very  much. 

"Your  pious  Pa,  too  !"  said  Mrs.  Todgers.  "There's  a  loss!  My 
dear  Miss  Pecksniffs,  your  Pa  is  a  perfect  missionary  of  peace  and  love." 

Entertaining  an  uncertainty  as  to  the  particular  kind  of  love  supj^osed 
to  be  comprised  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  mission,  the  young  ladies  received 
this  compliment  rather  coldly. 

"  If  I  dared,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  perceiving  this,  "  to  violate  a  confi- 
dence which  has  been  reposed  in  me,  and  to  tell  you  why  I  must  beg 
of  you  to  leave  the  little  door  between  your  room  and  mine  open  to- 
night, I  think  you  would  be  interested.  But  I  musn't  do  it,  for  I 
promised  Mr.  Jinkins  faithfully  that  I  would  be  as  silent  as  the  tomb." 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Todgers  !  what  can  you  mean  ?" 

"  Why  then,  my  sweet  Miss  Pecksniffs,"  said  the  lady  of  the  house  ; 
"  my  own  loves,  if  you  will  allow  me  the  privilege  of  taking  that  freedom 
on  the  eve  of  our  separation,  Mr.  Jinkins  and  the  gentlemen  have  made 
up  a  little  musical  party  among  themselves,  and  do  intend  in  the  dead 
of  this  night  to  perform  a  serenade  upon  the  stairs  outside  the  door.  I 
could  have  wished,  I  own,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  with  her  usual  foresight, 
"  that  it  had  been  fixed  to  take  place  an  hour  or  two  earlier  ;  because, 
when  gentlemen  sit  up  late,  they  drink,  and  when  they  drink,  they  're 
not  so  musical,  perhaps,  as  when  they  don't.  But  this  is  the  arrange- 
ment ;  and  I  know  you  will  be  gratified,  my  dear  Miss  Pecksniffs,  by 
such  a  mark  of  their  attention." 

The  young  ladies  were  at  first  so  much  excited  by  the  news,  that  they 
vowed  they  couldn't  think  of  going  to  bed,  until  the  serenade  was  over. 
But  half  an  hour  of  cool  waiting  so  altered  their  opinion  that  they  not 
only  went  to  bed,  but  fell  asleep ;  and  were  moreover  not  ecstatically 
charmed  to  be  av,'akened  sometime  afterwards  by  certain  dulcet  strains 
breaking  in  upon  the  silent  watches  of  the  night. 

It  was  very  affecting — very.  Nothing  more  dismal  could  have  been 
desired  by  the  most  fastidious  taste.  The  gentleman  of  a  vocal  turn  was 
head  mute,  or  chief  mourner  ;  Jinkins  took  the  bass  ;  and  the  rest  took 
anything  they  could  get.  The  youngest  gentleman  blew  his  melancholy 
into  a  flute.  He  didn't  blow  much  out  of  it,  but  that  was  all  the  better. 
If  the  two  Miss  Pecksniffs  and  Mrs.  Todgers  had  perished  by  spontaneous 
combustion,  and  the  serenade  had  been  in  honour  of  their  ashes,  it  would 
have  been  impossible  to  surpass  the  unutterable  despair  expressed  in 
that  one  chorus,  "Go  where  glory  waits  thee  !"  It  was  a  requiem,  a 
dirge,  a  moan,  a  howl,  a  wail,  a  lament ;  an  abstract  of  everything  that 
is  sorrowful  and  hideous  in  sound.  The  flute  of  the  youngest  gentleman 
was  wild  and  fitful.  It  came  and  went  in  gusts,  like  the  wind.  For  a 
long  time  together  he  seemed  to  have  left  off,  and  when  it  was  quite  settled 
by  Mrs.  Todgers  and  the  young  ladies,  that,  overcome  by  his  feelings,  he 
had  retired  in  tears,  he  unexpectedly  turned  up  again  at  the  very  top 
of  the  tune,  gasping  for  breath.  He  was  a  tremendous  performer.  There 
was  no  knowing  where  to  have  him ;  and  exactly  when  you  thought  he 


MARTIN    CHTJZZLEWIT.  141 

was  doing  nothing  at  all,  then  was  he  doing  the  very  thing  that  ought 
to  astonish  you  most. 

There  were  several  of  these  concerted  pieces  ;  perhaps  two  or  three  too 
many,  though  that,  as  Mrs.  Todgers  said,  was  a  fault  on  the  right  side. 
But  even  then,  even  at  that  solemn  moment,  when  the  thrilling  sounds 
may  be  presumed  to  have  penetrated  into  the  very  depths  of  his  nature, 
if  he  had  any  depths,  Jinkins  couldn't  leave  the  youngest  gentleman 
alone.  He  asked  him  distinctly,  before  the  second  song  began — as  a 
personal  favour  too,  mark  the  villain  in  that — not  to  play.  Yes  ;  he 
said  so  ;  not  to  play.  The  breathing  of  the  youngest  gentleman  was 
heard  through  the  keyhole  of  the  door.  He  didnt  play.  What  vent  was 
a  flute  for  the  passions  swelling  up  within  his  breast  %  A  trombone  would 
have  been  a  world  too  mild. 

The  serenade  approached  its  close.  Its  crowning  interest  was  at 
hand.  The  gentleman  of  a  literary  turn  had  written  a  song  on  the 
departure  of  the  ladies,  and  adapted  it  to  an  old  tune.  They  all  joined, 
except  the  youngest  gentleman  in  company,  M'ho,  for  the  reasons  afore- 
said, maintained  a  fearful  silence.  The  song  (which  was  of  a  classical 
nature)  invoked  the  oracle  of  Apollo,  and  demanded  to  know  what  would 
become  of  Todgers's  when  Chahitt  and  Mercy  were  banished  from  its 
walls.  The  oracle  delivered  no  opinion  particularly  worth  remembering, 
according  to  the  not  infrequent  practice  of  oracles  from  the  earliest  ages 
down  to  the  present  time.  In  the  absence  of  enlightenment  on  that 
subject,  the  strain  deserted  it,  and  went  on  to  show  that  the  Miss 
Pecksniffs  were  nearly  related  to  Rule  Britannia,  and  that  if  Great 
Britain  hadn't  been  an  island  there  could  have  been  no  Miss  Pecksniffs. 
And  being  now  on  a  nautical  tack,  it  closed  with  this  verse  : 

All  hail  to  the  vessel  of  Pecksniff  the  sire  ! 

And  favouring  bi'eezes  to  fan  ; 
While  Tritons  flock  round  it,  and  proudly  admire 

The  architect,  artist,  and  man ! 

As  they  presented  this  beautiful  picture  to  the  imagination,  the  gentle- 
men gradually  withdrew  to  bed  to  give  the  music  the  effect  of  distance ; 
and  so  it  died  away,  and  Todgers's  was  left  to  its  repose. 

Mr.  Bailey  reserved  his  vocal  offering  until  the  morning,  when  he 
put  his  head  into  the  room  as  the  young  ladies  were  kneeling  before 
tlieir  trunks,  packing  up,  and  treated  them  to  an  imitation  of  the  voice 
of  a  young  dog,  in  trying  circumstances  :  when  that  animal  is  supposed 
by  persons  of  a  lively  fancy,  to  relieve  his  feelings  by  calling  for  pen 
and  ink, 

"  Well,  young  ladies,"  said  the  youth,  "  so  you  're  a  going  home,  are 
you  ;  worse  luck  "?" 

"  Yes,  Bailey,  vre  're  going  home,"  returned  Mercy. 

"A'nt  you  a  going  to  leave  none  of  'em  a  lock  of  your  hairl" 
inquired  the  youth.     "  It's  real,  an't  it  f 

They  laughed  at  this,  and  told  him  of  course  it  was. 

"Oh  is  it  of  course  though?"  said  Bailey.  "I  know  better  than 
that.  Hers  an't.  Why,  I  see  it  hanging  up  once,  on  that  nail  by  the 
winder.     Besides  I  've  gone  behind  her  at  dinner-time  and  pulled  it; 


142  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

and  she  never  know'd.  I  say,  young  ladies — I  'm  a  going  to  leave.  I 
an't  a  going  to  stand  being  called  names  by  her,  no  longer," 

Miss  Mercy  enquired  what  his  plans  for  the  future  might  be ;  in 
reply  to  whom,  Mr.  Bailey  intimated  that  he  thought  of  going,  either 
into  top-boots,  or  into  the  army. 

"  Into  the  army  ! "  cried  the  young  ladies,  with  a  laugh. 

''^  Ah  !"  said  Bailey,  "why  not  1  There's  a  many  drummers  in  the 
Tower.  I  'm  acquainted  with  'em.  Don't  their  country  set  a  valley  on 
'em,  mind  you  !     Not  at  all !" 

"  You  '11  be  shot,  I  see,"  observed  Mercy. 

"  Well !"  cried  Mr.  Bailey,  "  wot  if  I  am?  There 's  something  gamey 
in  it,  young  ladies,  an't  there  1  I  'd  sooner  be  hit  with  a  cannon-ball 
than  a  rolling-pin,  and  she  's  always  a  catching  up  something  of  that 
sort,  and  throwing  it  at  me,  wen  the  gentlemans  appetites  is  good. 
Wot,"  said  Mr.  Bailey,  stung  by  the  recollection  of  his  wrongs,  "  wot^ 
if  they  do  con-sume  the  per-vishuns.     It  an't  m?/  fault,  is  it  ?" 

"  Surely  no  one  says  it  is,"  said  Mercy. 

"  Don't  they  though  f  retorted  the  youth.  "  No.  Yes.  Ah  !  Oh  !  No 
one  mayn't  say  it  is  ;  but  some  one  knows  it  is.  But  I  an't  a  going  to 
have  every  rise  in  prices  wisited  on  me.  I  an't  a  going  to  be  killed, 
because  the  markets  is  dear.  I  won't  stop.  And  therefore,"  added 
Mr.  Bailey,  relenting  into  a  smile,  "  wotever  you  mean  to  give  me,  you  'd 
better  give  me  all  at  once,  becos  if  ever  you  come  back  agin,  I  shan  't  be 
here  ;  and  as  to  the  other  boy,  he  won't  deserve  nothing,  /  know." 

The  young  ladies,  on  behalf  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  themselves,  acted 
on  this  thoughtful  advice  ;  and  in  consideration  of  their  private  friend- 
ship, presented  Mr.  Bailey  with  a  gratuity  so  liberal,  that  he  could 
hardly  do  enough  to  show  his  gratitude  ;  which  found  but  an  imperfect 
vent,  during  the  remainder  of  the  day,  in  divers  secret  slaps  upon  his 
pocket,  and  other  such  facetious  pantomime.  Nor  was  it  confined  to 
these  ebullitions ;  for  besides  crushing  a  bandbox,  with  a  bonnet  in  it, 
he  seriously  damaged  Mr.  Pecksniff's  luggage,  by  ardently  hauling  it 
down  from  the  top  of  the  house  ;  and  in  short  evinced,  by  every  means 
in  his  power,  a  lively  sense  of  the  favours  he  had  received  from  that 
gentleman  and  his  family. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  and  Mr.  Jinkins  came  home  to  dinner,  arm-in-arm  ; 
for  the  latter  gentleman  had  made  half-holiday,  on  purpose  ;  thus 
gaining  an  immense  advantage  over  the  youngest  gentleman  and  the 
rest,  whose  time,  as  it  perversely  chanced,  was  all  bespoke,  until  the 
evening.  The  bottle  of  wine  was  Mr.  Pecksniff's  treat,  and  they  were 
very  sociable  indeed ;  though  full  of  lamentations  on  the  necessity  of 
parting.  While  they  were  in  the  midst  of  their  enjoyment,  old  Anthony 
and  his  son  were  announced  ;  much  to  the  surprise  of  Mr.  Pecksniff", 
and  greatly  to  the  discomfiture  of  Jinkins. 

"  Come  to  say  good  bye,  you  see,"  said  Anthony,  in  a  low  voice,  to 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  they  took  their  seats  apart  at  the  table,  while  the  rest 
conversed  among  themselves.  "  Where  's  the  use  of  a  division  between 
you  and  me  ?  We  are  the  two  halves  of  a  pair  of  scissors,  when  apart, 
Pecksniff;  but  together  we  are  something.     Eh  V 


^'MAETIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  143 

"Unanimity,  my  good  sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "is  always 
delightful." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  the  old  man,  "  for  there  are  some 
people  I  would  rather  differ  from  than  agree  with.  But  you  know  my 
opinion  of  you." 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  still  having  "hypocrite"  in  his  mind,  only  replied  by 
a  motion  of  his  head,  which  was  something  between  an  affirmative  bow, 
and  a  negative  shake. 

"  Complimentary,"  said  Anthony.  "  Complimentary,  upon  my  word. 
It  was  an  involuntary  tribute  to  your  abilities,  even  at  the  time  ;  and 
it  was  not  a  time  to  suggest  compliments  either.  But  we  agreed  in  the 
coach,  you  know,  that  we  quite  understood  each  other." 

"Oh,  quite!"  assented  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  manner  which  implied 
that  he  himself  was  misunderstood  most  cruelly,  but  would  not  complain. 

Anthony  glanced  at  his  son  as  he  sat  beside  Miss  Charity,  and  then  at 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  then  at  his  son  again,  very  many  times.  It  happened 
that  Mr.  Pecksniff's  glances  took  a  similar  direction  ;  but  when  he 
became  aware  of  it,  he  first  cast  down  his  eyes,  and  then  closed  them  ; 
as  if  he  were  determined  that  the  old  man  should  read  nothing  there. 

"'  Jonas  is  a  shrewd  lad,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  He  appears,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  his  most  candid  manner,  "  to- 
be  very  shrewd." 
-  "  And  careful,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  And  careful,  I  have  no  doubt,"  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"Lookye!"  said  Anthony  in  his  ear.  "I  think  he  is  sweet  upon 
your  daughter." 

"  Tut,  my  good  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  his  eyes  still  closed  ; 
"  young  people — young  people — a  kind  of  cousins,  too — no  more  sweet- 
ness than  is  in  that,  sir." 

"  Why,  there  is  very  little  sweetness  in  that,  according  to  our  expe- 
rience," returned  Anthony.     "  Isn't  there  a  trifle  more  here  ? " 

"  Impossible  to  say,"  rejoined  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Quite  impossible  i 
You  surprise  me." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that,"  said  the  old  man,  dryly.  "  It  may  last ;  I  mean 
the  sweetness,  not  the  surprise  ;  and  it  may  die  off.  Supposing  it 
should  last,  perhaps  (you  having  feathered  your  nest  pretty  well,  and 
I  having  done  the  same)  we  might  have  a  mutual  interest  in  the 
matter." 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling  gently,  was  about  to  speak,  but  Anthony 
stopped  him. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  going  to  say.  It's  quite  unnecessary.  You 
have  never  thought  of  this  for  a  moment ;  and  in  a  point  so  nearly 
affecting  the  happiness  of  your  dear  child,  you  couldn't,  as  a  tender 
father,  express  an  opinion  ;  and  so  forth.  Yes,  quite  right.  And  like 
you  !  But  it  seems  to  me,  my  dear  Pecksniff,"  added  Anthony,  laying 
his  hand  upon  his  sleeve,  "  that  if  you  and  I  kept  up  the  joke  of  pre- 
tending not  to  see  this,  one  of  us  might  possibly  be  placed  in  a  position 
of  disadvantage  ;  and  as  I  am  very  unwilling  to  be  that  party  myself, 
you  will  excuse  my  taking  the  liberty  of  putting  the  matter  beyond  a 


144  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

doubt,  thus  early  ;  and  having  it  distinctly  understood,  as  it  is  now, 
that  we  do  see  it,  and  do  know  it.  Thank  you  for  your  attention.  We 
are  now  upon  an  equal  footing ;  which  is  agreeable  to  us  both,  I  am  sure." 
He  rose  as  he  spoke  ;  and  giving  Mr.  PecksniiF  a  nod  of  intelligence, 
moved  away  from  him  to  where  the  young  people  were  sitting  :  leaving 
that  good  man  somewhat  puzzled  and  discomfited  by  such  very  plain- 
dealing,  and  not  quite  free  from  a  sense  of  having  been  foiled  in  the 
exercise  of  his  familiar  weapons. 

But  the  night-coach  had  a  punctual  character,  and  it  was  time  to 
join  it  at  the  office  ;  which  was  so  near  at  hand,  that  they  had  already 
sent  their  luggage,  and  arranged  to  walk.  Thither  the  whole  party 
repaired,  therefore,  after  no  more  delay  than  sufficed  for  the  equipment 
of  the  Miss  Pecksniffs  and  Mrs.  Todgers.  They  found  the  coach  already 
at  its  starting-place,  and  the  horses  in  ;  there,  too,  were  a  large  majority 
of  the  commercial  gentlemen,  including  the  youngest,  who  was  visibly 
agitated,  and  in  a  state  of  deep  mental  dejection. 

Nothing  could  equal  the  distress  of  Mrs.  Todgers  in  parting  from  the 
young  ladies,  except  the  strong  emotions  with  which  she  bade  adieu  to 
Mr.  Pecksniff.  Never  surely  was  a  pocket-handkerchief  taken  in 
and  out  of  a  flat  reticule  so  often  as  Mrs.  Todgers's  was,  as  she  stood 
upon  the  pavement  by  the  coach  door,  supported  on  either  side  by  a 
commercial  gentleman  ;  and  by  the  light  of  the  coach-lamps  caught  such 
brief  snatches  and  glimpses  of  the  good  man's  face,  as  the  constant  inter- 
position of  Mr.  Jinkins  allowed.  For  Jinkins,  to  the  last  the  youngest 
gentleman's  rock  a-head  in  life,  stood  upon  the  coach-step  talking  to 
the  ladies.  Upon  the  other  step  was  Mr.  Jonas,  who  maintained  that 
position  in  right  of  his  cousinship  ;  whereas  the  youngest  gentleman, 
who  had  been  first  upon  the  ground,  was  deep  in  the  booking-office 
among  the  black  and  red  placards,  and  the  portraits  of  fast  coaches, 
where  he  was  ignominiously  harassed  by  porters,  and  had  to  contend 
and  strive  perpetually  with  heavy  baggage.  This  false  position, 
combined  with  his  nervous  excitement,  brought  about  the  very  consum- 
mation and  catastrophe  of  his  miseries  ;  for  when,  in  the  moment  of 
parting,  he  aimed  a  flower — a  hothouse  flower,  that  had  cost  money — at 
the  fair  hand  of  Mercy,  it  reached,  instead,  the  coachman  on  the  box, 
who  thanked  him  kindly,  and  stuck  it  in  his  button-hole. 

They  were  off  now  ;  and  Todgers's  was  alone  again.  The  two  young 
ladies,  leaning  back  in  their  separate  corners,  resigned  themselves  to 
their  own  regretful  thoughts.  But  Mr.  Pecksniff,  dismissing  all  ephe- 
meral considerations  of  social  pleasure  and  enjoyment,  concentrated  his 
meditations  on  the  one  great  virtuous  purpose  before  him,  of  casting  out 
that  ingrate  and  deceiver,  whose  presence  yet  troubled  his  domestic 
hearth,  and  was  a  sacrilege  upon  the  altars  of  his  household  gods. 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  145 


CHAPTER  XII. 


WILL  BE  SEEN  m  THE  LONG  RUIT,  IF  NOT  IN  THE  SHORT  ONE,  TO  CONCERN 
MR.  riNCH  AND  OTHERS,  NEARLY.  MR.  PECKSNIFF  ASSERTS  THE 
DIGNITY  OF  OUTRAGED  VIRTUE  ;  AND  YOUNG  MARTIN  CHUZZLEWIT 
FORMS    A    DESPERATE    RESOLUTION. 

Mr.  Pinch  and  Martin,  little  dreaming  of  the  stormy  weather  that 
impended,  made  themselves  very  comfortable  in  the  Pecksniffian  halls, 
and  improved  their  friendship  daily.  Martin's  facility,  both  of 
invention  and  execution,  being  remarkable,  the  grammar-school  pro- 
ceeded with  great  vigour ;  and  Tom  repeatedly  declared,  that  if  there 
were  anything  like  certainty  in  human  affairs,  or  impartiality  in  human 
judges,  a  design  so  new  and  full  of  merit  could  not  fail  to  carry  off  the 
first  prize  when  the  time  of  competition  arrived.  Without  being 
quite  so  sanguine  himself,  Martin  had  his  hopeful  anticipations  too ; 
and  they  served  to  make  him  brisk  and  eager  at  his  task. 

"  If  I  should  turn  out  a  great  architect,  Tom,"  said  the  new  pupil 
one  day,  as  he  stood  at  a  little  distance  from  his  drawing,  and  eyed  it 
v/ith  much  complacency,  "  I  '11  tell  you  what  should  be  one  of  the  things 
I'd  build." 

"  Aye  !"  cried  Tom.     "What?" 

"  Why,  your  fortune." 

"No!"  said  Tom  Pinch,  quite  as  much  delighted  as  if  the  thing 
were  done.     "  Would  you  though  ?     How  kind  of  you  to  say  so." 

"  I  'd  build  it  up,  Tom,"  returned  Martin,  "  on  such  a  strong 
foundation,  that  it  should  last  your  life — aye,  and  your  children's  lives 
too,  and  their  children's  after  them.  I  'd  be  your  patron,  Tom.  I  'd 
take  you  under  my  protection.  Let  me  see  the  man  who  should  give 
the  cold  shoulder  to  anybody  I  chose  to  protect  and  patronise,  if  I  were 
at  the  top  of  the  tree,  Tom  ! " 

"  Now,  I  don't  think,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  upon  my  word,  that  I  was 
ever  more  gratified  than  by  this.     I  really  don't." 

"  Oh  !  I  mean  what  I  say,"  retorted  Martin,  with  a  manner  as  free 
and  easy  in  its  condescension  to,  not  to  say  in  its  compassion  for, 
the  other,  as  if  he  were  already  First  Architect  in  Ordinary  to  all  the 
Crowned  Heads  in  Europe.     "  I  'd  do  it — I  'd  provide  for  you." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  Tom,  shaking  his  head,  "  that  I  should  be  a  mighty 
awkward  person  to  provide  for." 

"Pooh,  pooh  !"  rejoined  Martin.  "  Never  mind  that.  If  I  took  it 
in  my  head  to  say,  '  Pinch  is  a  clever  fellow ;  I  approve  of  Pinch  ; '  I 
should  like  to  know  the  man  who  would  venture  to  put  himself  in  oppo- 
sition to  me.  Besides,  confound  it  Tom,  you  could  be  useful  to  me  in  a 
hundred  ways." 

"  If  I  were  not  useful  in  one  or  two,  it  shouldn't  be  for  want  of 
trying,"  said  Tom. 

"  For  instance,"  pursued  Martin,  after  a  short  reflection,  "you  'd  be  a 

L 


146  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

capital  fellow,  now,  to  see  that  mj  ideas  were  properly  carried  out ;  and 
to  overlook  the  works  in  their  progress  before  they  were  sufficiently 
advanced  to  be  very  interesting  to  me  ;  and  to  take  all  that  sort  of 
plain  sailing.  Then  you  'd  be  a  splendid  fellow  to  show  people  over  my 
studio,  and  to  talk  about  Art  to  'em,  when  I  couldn't  be  bored  myself, 
and  all  that  kind  of  thing.  For  it  would  be  devilish  creditable,  Tom 
(I'm  quite  in  earnest,  I  give  you  my  -word),  to  have  a  man  of  your  infor- 
mation about  one,  instead  of  some  ordinary  blockhead.  Oh,  I  'd  take 
care  of  you.     You  'd  be  useful,  rely  upon  it  !" 

To  say  that  Tom  had  no  idea  of  playing  first  fiddle  in  any  social 
orchestra,  but  was  always  quite  satisfied  to  be  set  down  for  the  hundred 
and  fiftieth  violin  in  the  band,  or  thereabouts,  is  to  express  his  modesty 
in  very  inadequate  terms.  He  was  much  delighted,  therefore,  by  these 
observations. 

"  I  should  be  married  to  her  then  Tom,  of  course,"  said  Martin. 

What  was  that  which  checked  Tom  Pinch  so  suddenly,  in  the  high 
flow  of  his  gladness  :  bringing  the  blood  into  his  honest  cheeks  and  a 
remorseful  feeling  to  his  honest  heart,  as  if  he  were  unworthy  of  his 
friend's  regard ! 

"  I  should  be  married  to  her  then,"  said  Martin,  looking  with  a  smile 
towards  the  light  :  "  and  we  should  have,  I  hope,  children  about  us. 
They  'd  be  very  fond  of  you,  Tom." 

But  not  a  word  said  Mr.  Pinch.  The  words  he  would  have  uttered, 
died  upon  his  lips,  and  found  a  life  more  spiritual  in  self-denying 
thoughts. 

"  All  the  children  hereabouts  are  fond  of  you,  Tom,  and  mine  would 
be,  of  course,"  pursued  Martin.  "  Perhaps  I  miglit  name  one  of  'em  after 
you.  Tom,  eh  %  Well  I  don't  know,  Tom  's  not  a  bad  name.  Thomas 
Pinch  Chuzzlewit.  T.  P.  C.  on  his  pinafores — no  objection  to  that,  I 
should  say." 

Tom  cleared  his  throat,  and  smiled. 

^^  She  would  like  you,  Tom,  I  know,"  said  Martin. 

"  Aye  !"  cried  Tom  Pinch,  faintly. 

"  I  can  tell  exactly  what  she  would  think  of  you,"  said  Martin,  leaning 
his  chin  upon  his  hand,  and  looking  through  the  window-glass  as  if  he 
read  there  what  he  said ;  "  I  know  her  so  well.  She  would  smile,  Tom, 
often  at  first  when  you  spoke  to  her,  or  when  she  looked  at  you — merrily 
too — but  you  wouldn't  mind  that.     A  brighter  smile  you  never  saw  !" 

"  No,  no,"  said  Tom,  "  I  wouldn't  mind  that." 

"  She  would  be  as  tender  with  you,  Tom,"  said  Martin,  "  as  if  you  were 
a  child  yourself.     So  you  are  almost,  in  some  things,  an't  you,  Tom  ?" 

Mr.  Pinch  nodded  his  entire  assent. 

"  She  would  always  be  kind  and  good-humoured,  and  glad  to  see  you,'* 
said  Martin  ;  "  and  when  she  found  out  exactly  what  sort  of  fellow  you 
were  (which  she  'd  do,  very  soon),  she  would  pretend  to  give  you  little 
commissions  to  execute,  and  to  ask  little  services  of  you,  whi^h  she  knew 
you  were  burning  to  render  ;  so  that  when  she  really  pleased  you  most, 
she  would  try  to  make  you  think  you  most  pleased  her.  She  would  take 
to  you  uncommonly,  Tom  ;  and  vfould  understand  you  far  more  delicately 


MARTIX    CHUZZLEWIT.  147 

than  I  ever  shall ;  and  would  often  say,  I  know,  that  you  were  a  harmless, 
gentle,  well-intentioned,  good  fellow." 

How  silent  Tom  Pinch  Avas  ! 

"  In  honour  of  old  times,"  said  Martin,  "  and  of  her  having  heard  you 
play  the  organ  in  this  damp  little  church  down  here — for  nothing  too — 
we  will  have  one  in  the  house,  I  shall  build  an  architectural  music-room 
on  a  plan  of  my  own,  and  it  '11  look  rather  knowing  in  a  recess  at 
one  end.  There  you  shall  play  away,  Tom,  till  you  tire  yourself; 
and,  as  you  like  to  do  so  in  the  dark,  it  shall  be  dark  ;  and  many  's  the 
summer  evening  she  and  I  will  sit  and  listen  to  you,  Tom ;  be  sure  of 
that !" 

It  may  have  required  a  stronger  effort  on  Tom  Pinch's  part  to  leave 
the  seat  on  which  he  sat,  and  shake  his  friend  by  both  hands,  with 
nothing  but  serenity  and  grateful  feeling  painted  on  his  face  ;  it  may 
have  required  a  stronger  effort  to  perform  this  simple  act  with  a  pure 
heart,  than  to  achieve  many  and  many  a  deed  to  which  the  doubtful 
trumpet  blown  by  Fame  has  lustily  resounded.  Doubtful,  because 
from  its  long  hovering  over  scenes  of  violence,  the  smoke  and  steam  of 
death  have  clogged  the  keys  of  that  brave  instrument ;  and  it  is  not 
always  that  its  notes  are  either  true  or  tuneful. 

"  It 's  a  proof  of  the  kindness  of  human  nature,"  said  Tom,  charac- 
teristically putting  himself  quite  out  of  sight  in  the  matter,  "  that 
everybody  who  comes  here,  as  you  have  done,  is  more  considerate  and 
affectionate  to  me  than  I  should  have  any  right  to  hope,  if  I  were  the 
most  sanguine  creature  in  the  world  ;  or  should  have  any  power  to 
express,  if  I  were  the  most  eloquent.  It  really  overpowers  me.  But 
trust  me,"  said  Tom,  "  that  I  am  not  ungrateful — that  I  never  forget — 
and  that,  if  I  can  ever  prove  the  truth  of  my  words  to  you,  I  will." 

"  That 's  all  right,"  observed  Martin,  leaning  back  in  his  chair  with  a 
hand  in  each  pocket,  and  yawning  drearily.  "  Very  fine  talking,  Tom  ; 
but  I  'm  at  Pecksniff's,  I  remember,  and  perhaps  a  mile  or  so  out  of  the 
high-road  to  fortune  just  at  this  minute.  So  you  've  heard  again  this 
morning  from  what 's  his  name,  eh  % " 

"  Who  may  that  be  1 "  asked  Tom,  seeming  to  enter  a  mild  protest  on 
behalf  of  the  dignity  of  an  absent  person. 

"  You  know.     What  is  it  ?     Northkey." 

^'  Westlock,"  rejoined  Tom,  in  rather  a  louder  tone  than  usual. 

"  Ah  !  to  be  sure,"  said  Martin,  "  Westlock.  I  knew  it  was  something 
connected  with  a  point  of  the  compass  and  a  door.  Well !  and  what 
says  Westlock?" 

"  Oh  !  he  has  come  into  his  property,"  answered  Tom,  nodding  his 
head,  and  smiling-. 

"  He 's  a  lucky  dog,"  said  Martin.  "  I  wish  it  were  mine  instead.  Is 
ihat  all  the  mystery  you  were  to  tell  me?" 

"  No,"  said  Tom  ;  "  not  ^11." 
What 's  the  rest  !"  asked  Martin. 

For  the  matter  of  that,"  said  Tom,  "  it 's  no  mystery,  and  you  won't 
think  much  of  it ;  but  it's  very  pleasant  to  me.  John  always  used  to 
say  when  he  was  here,  '  Mark  my  words,  Pinch.     When  my  father's 

l2 


148  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

executors  cash  up ' — lie  used  strange  expressions  now  and  tlien,  but  tliat 
was  liis  way." 

"  Cash-up 's  a  very  good  expression,"  observed  Martin,  "  when  other 
people  don't  apply  it  to  you.  Well  ! — What  a  slow  fellow  you  are, 
Pinch!" 

"  Yes,  I  am  I  know,"  said  Tom  ;  "  but  you  11  make  me  nervous  if  you 
tell  me  so.  I  'm  afraid  you  have  put  me  out  a  little  now,  for  I  forget 
what  I  was  going  to  say." 

"  Yf  hen  John's  father's  executors  cashed  up" — said  Martin  impatiently. 

"  Oh  yes,  to  be  sure,"  cried  Tom  ;  "  yes.  '  Then,'  says  John,  '  I  '11  give 
you  a  dinner.  Pinch,  and  come  down  to  Salisbury  on  purpose.'  Now, 
when  John  wrote  the  other  day — the  morning  Pecksniff  left,  you  know — 
he  said  his  business  was  on  the  point  of  being  immediately  settled,  and 
as  he  was  to  receive  his  money  directly,  when  could  I  meet  him  at  Salis- 
bury 1  I  wrote  and  said,  any  day  this  w^eek  ;  and  I  told  him  besides, 
that  there  was  a  new  pupil  here,  and  v/liat  a  fine  fellow  you  were,  and 
what  friends  we  had  become.  Upon  which  John  v»^rites  back  this  letter" — 
Tom  produced  it — "  fixes  to-morrow  ;  sends  his  compliments  to  you  ; 
and  begs  that  we  three  may  have  the  pleasure  of  dining  together — not  at 
the  house  where  you  and  I  were,  either  ;  but  at  the  very  first  hotel  in 
the  town.     Read  what  he  says." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Martin,  glancing  over  it  with  his  customary  coolness  ; 
"  much  oblio-ed  to  him.     I  'm  ao-reeable." 

Tom  could  have  wished  him  to  be  a  little  more  astonished,  a  little  more 
pleased,  or  in  some  form  or  other  a  little  more  interested  in  such  a  great 
event.  But  he  was  perfectly  self-possessed  :  and,  falling  into  liis  favourite 
solace  of  whistling,  took  another  turn  at  the  grammar-school^  as  if 
nothing  at  all  had  happened. 

Mr.  Pecksniffs  horse  being  regarded  in  the  light  of  a  sacred  animal, 
only  to  be  driven  by  him,  the  chief  priest  of  that  temple,  or  by  some 
person  distinctly  nominated  for  the  time  being  to  that  high  office  by 
himself,  the  two  young  men  agreed  to  walk  to  Salisbury ;  and  so,  when 
the  time  came,  they  set  off  on  foot ;  which  was,  after  all,  a  better  mode 
of  travelling  than  in  the  gig,  as  the  weather  was  very  cold  and  very  dry. 

Better  !  a  rare  strong,  hearty,  healthy  walk — four  statute  miles  an 
hour — preferable  to  that  rumbling,  tumbling,  jolting,  shaking,  scraping, 
creaking,  villanous  old  gig  ?  Why,  the  two  things  will  not  admit  of 
comparison.  It  is  an  insult  to  the  walk,  to  set  them  side  by  side. 
Where  is  an  instance  of  a  gig  having  ever  circulated  a  man's  blood, 
unless  when,  putting  him  in  danger  of  his  neck,  it  awakened  in  his  veins 
and  in  his  ears,  and  all  along  his  spine,  a  tingling  heat,  much  more 
peculiar  than  agreeable '?  When  did  a  gig  ever  sharpen  anybody's  wits 
and  energies,  unless  it  was  when  the  horse  bolted,  and,  crashing  madly 
down  a  steep  hill  with  a  stone  wall  at  the  bottom,  his  desperate  circum- 
stances suggested  to  the  only  gentleman  left  inside,  some  novel  and 
unheard-of  mode  of  dropping  out  behind  1     Better  than  the  gig  !  ^ 

The  air  was  cold,  Tom  ;  so  it  was,  there  is  no  denying  it ;  but  would 
it  have  been  more  genial  in  the  gig  1  The  blacksmith's  fire  burned  very 
bright,  and  leaped  up  high,  as  though  it  wanted  men  to  warm  ;  but 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  149 

would  it  have  been  less  tempting,  looked  at  from  the  clammj  cusliions 
of  a  gig  ?  The  wind  blew  keenly,  nipping  the  features  of  the  hardy 
wight  who  fought  his  way  along  ;  blinding  him  with  his  own  hair  if  he 
had  enough  of  it,  and  with  wintry  dust  if  he  hadn't ;  stopping  his  breath 
as  though  he  had  been  soused  in  a  cold  bath  ;  tearing  aside  his  wrappings- 
up,  and  whistling  in  the  very  marrow  of  his  bones  ;  but  it  would  have 
done  all  this  a  hundred  times  more  fiercely  to  a  man  in  a  gig,  wouldn't 
it  ?     A  fig  for  gigs  ! 

Better  than  the  gig  !  When  were  travellers  by  wheels  and  hoofs 
seen  with  such  red-hot  cheeks  as  those  1  when  v/ere  they  so  good- 
humouredly  and  merrily  bloused  1  when  did  their  laughter  ring  upon 
the  air,  as  they  turned  them  round,  what  time  the  stronger  gusts  came 
sweeping  up  ;  and,  facing  round  again  as  they  passed  by,  dashed  on  in 
such  a  glow  of  ruddy  health  as  nothing  could  keep  pace  with,  but  the 
high  spirits  it  engendered  ?  Better  than  the  gig  !  Why,  here  is  a  man 
in  a  gig  coming  the  same  way  now.  Look  at  him  as  he  passes  his  whip 
into  his  left  hand,  chafes  his  numbed  right  fingers  on  his  granite  leg, 
and  beats  those  marble  toes  of  his  upon  the  footboard.  Ha,  ha,  ha  1 
Who  would  exchange  this  rapid  hurry  of  the  blood  for  yonder  stagnant 
misery,  though  its  pace  were  twenty  miles  for  one  ? 

Better  than  the  gig  !  No  man  in  a  gig  could  have  such  interest  in 
the  milestones.  Xo  man  in  a  gig  could  see,  or  feel,  or  think,  like 
merry  users  of  their  legs.  How,  as  the  wind  sweeps  on,  upon  these 
breezy  dovrns,  it  tracks  its  flight  in  darkening  ripples  on  the  grass,  and 
smoothest  shadows  on  the  hills  !  Look  round  and  round  upon  this  bare 
bleak  plain,  and  see  even  here,  upon  a  winter's  day,  how  beautiful  the 
shadows  are  1  Alas  !  it  is  the  nature  of  their  kind  to  be  so.  The  loveliest 
things  in  life,  Tom,  arc  but  shadows  ;  and  they  come  and  go,  and  change 
and  fade  away,  as  rapidly  as  these  ! 

Another  mile,  and  then  begins  a  fall  of  snow,  making  the  crow,  who 
skims  away  so  close  above  the  ground  to  shirk  the  wind,  a  blot  of  ink 
upon  the  landscape.  But  though  it  drives  and  drifts  against  them  as 
they  walk,  stiffening  on  their  skirts,  and  freezing  in  the  lashes  of  their 
eyes,  they  wouldn't  have  it  fall  more  sparingly,  no,  not  so  much  as  by  a 
single  flake,  although  they  had  to  go  a  score  of  miles.  And,  lo  !  the 
towers  of  the  Old  Cathedral  rise  before  them,  even  now  !  and  bye  and 
bye  they  come  into  the  sheltered  streets,  made  strangely  silent  by  their 
white  carpet ;  and  so  to  the  Inn  for  which  they  are  bound  ;  where  they 
present  such  flushed  and  burning  faces  to  the  cold  waiter,  and  are  so 
brimful  of  vigour,  that  he  almost  feels  assaulted  by  their  presence  ;  and^ 
having  nothing  to  oppose  to  the  attack  (being  fresh,  or  rather  stale, 
from  the  blazing  fire  in  the  coffee-room),  is  quite  put  out  of  his  pale 
countenance. 

A  famous  Inn  !  the  hall  a  very  grove  of  dead  game,  and  dangling 
joints  of  mutton  ;  and  in  one  corner  an  illustrious  larder,  '^vith  glass 
doors,  developing  cold  fowls  and  noble  joints,  and  tarts  wherein  the 
raspberry  jam  coyly  withdrew  itself,  as  such  a  precious  creature  should, 
behind  a  lattice-work  of  pastry.  And  behold,  on  the  first  floor,  at  the 
court-end  of  the  house,  in  a  room  with  all  the  window-curtains  dra^^Ti, 


150  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

a  fire  piled  lialf-way  up  the  chimney,  plates  wanning  before  it,  wax 
candles  gleaming  everywhere,  and  a  table  spread  for  three  with  silver 
and  glass  enough  for  thirty — John  Westlock  :  not  the  old  John  of 
Pecksniff's,  but  a  proper  gentleman  :  looking  another  and  a  grander 
person,  with  the  consciousness  of  being  his  own  master  and  having  money 
in  the  bank  :  and  yet  in  some  respects  the  old  John  too,  for  he  seized 
Tom  Pinch  by  both  his  hands  the  instant  he  appeared,  and  fairly 
hugged  him,  in  his  cordial  welcome. 

"  And  this,"  said  John,  '•'  is  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  I  am  very  glad  to  see 
him  ! " — John  had  an  off-hand  manner  of  his  own  ;  so  they  shook  hand& 
warmly,  and  were  friends  in  no  time. 

"  Stand  off  a  moment,  Tom,"  cried  the  old  pupil,  laying  one  hand  on 
each  of  Mr.  Pinch's  shoulders,  and  holding  him  out  at  arm's  length. 
"  Let  me  look  at  you  !    Just  the  same  !    Not  a  bit  changed  !" 

"  Why,  it 's  not  so  very  long  ago,  you  know,"  said  Tom  Pinch,  "  after 
all." 

"  It  seems  an  age  to  me,"  cried  John  ;  "  and  so  it  ought  to  seem  ta 
you,  you  dog."  And  then  he  pushed  Tom  down  into  the  easiest  chair, 
and  clapped  him  on  the  back  so  heartily,  and  so  like  his  old  self  in  their 
old  bed-room  at  old  Pecksniff's,  that  it  was  a  toss-up  with  Tom  Pinch 
whether  he  should  laugh  or  cry.  Laughter  won  it ;  and  they  all  three 
laughed  together. 

"  I  have  ordered  everything  for  dinner,  that  we  used  to  say  we  'd 
have,  Tom,"  observed  John  Westlock. 

"  No  !  "  said  Tom  Pinch,  "  Have  you  ?" 

"  Everything.  Don't  laugh,  if  you  can  help  it,  before  the  waiters.  / 
couldn't  when  I  was  ordering  it.     It 's  like  a  dream." 

John  was  wrong  there,  because  nobody  ever  dreamed  such  soup  as 
was  put  upon  the  table  directly  afterwards  ;  or  such  fish  ;  or  such  side- 
dishes  ;  or  such  a  top  and  bottom ;  or  such  a  course  of  birds  and 
sweets  ;  or  in  short  anything  approaching  the  reality  of  that  entertain- 
ment at  ten-and-six pence  a  head,  exclusive  of  wines.  As  to  them,  the 
man  who  can  dream  such  iced  champagne,  such  claret,  port,  or  sherry, 
had  better  go  to  bed  and  stop  there. 

But  perhaps  the  finest  feature  of  the  banquet  was,  that  nobody  was 
half  so  much  amazed  by  everything  as  John  himself,  who,  in  his  high 
delight,  was  constantly  bursting  into  fits  of  laughter,  and  then  en- 
deavouring to  appear  preternaturally  solemn,  lest  the  waiters  should 
conceive  he  wasn't  used  to  it.  Some  of  the  things  they  brought  him  to 
carve,  were  such  outrageous  practical  jokes,  though,  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  stand  it ;  and  when  Tom  Pinch  insisted,  in  spite  of  the  defe- 
rential advice  of  an  attendant,  not  only  on  breaking  down  the  outer 
wall  of  a  raised  pie  with  a  tablespoon,  but  on  trying  to  eat  it  afterwards, 
John  lost  all  dignity,  and  sat  behind  the  gorgeous  dish-cover  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  roaring  to  that  extent  that  he  was  audible  in  the 
kitchen.  Nor  had  he  the  least  objection  to  laugh  at  himself,  as  he 
demonstrated  when  they  had  all  three  gathered  round  the  fire,  and  the 
dessert  was  on  the  table  ;  at  which  period,  the  head  waiter  inquired  with 
respectful  solicitude  whether  that  port,  being  a  light  and  tawny  wine,. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  151 

was  suited  to  his  taste,  or  whether  he  would  wish  to  try  a  fruity  port 
with  greater  body.  To  this  John  gravely  answered,  that  he  was  well 
satisfied  with  what  he  had,  which  he  esteemed,  as  one  might  say,  a  pretty 
tidy  vintage  ;  for  which  the  waiter  thanked  him  and  withdrew.  And 
then  John  told  his  friends,  with  a  broad  grin,  that  he  supposed  it  was  all 
right,  but  he  didn't  know  ;  and  went  oif  into  a  perfect  shout. 

They  were  very  merry  and  full  of  enjoyment  the  whole  time,  but  not 
the  least  pleasant  part  of  the  festival  was,  when  they  all  three  sat  about 
the  fire,  cracking  nuts,  drinking  wine,  and  talking  cheerfully.  It 
happened  that  Tom  Pinch  had  a  word  to  say  to  his  friend  the  organist's 
assistant,  and  so  deserted  his  warm  corner  for  a  few  minutes  at  this 
season,  lest  it  should  grow  too  late  ;  leaving  the  other  two  young  men 
together. 

They  drank  his  health  in  his  absence,  of  course  ;  and  John  Westlock 
took  that  opportunity  of  saying,  that  he  had  never  had  even  a  peevish 
word  with  Tom  during  the  whole  term  of  their  residence  in  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's house.  This  naturally  led  him  to  dwell  upon  Tom's  character, 
and  to  hint  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  understood  it  pretty  well.  He  only 
hinted  this,  and  very  distantly  :  knowing  that  it  pained  Tom  Pinch 
to  have  that  gentleman  disparaged,  and  thinking  it  would  be  as  well  to 
leave  the  new  pupil  to  his  own  discoveries. 

"  Yes,"  said  Martin,  "  It 's  impossible  to  like  Pinch  better  than  I 
do,  or  to  do  greater  justice  to  his  good  qualities.  He  's  the  most  willing- 
fellow  I  ever  saw." 

"  He  's  rather  too  willing,"  observed  John,  who  was  quick  in  observa- 
tion.    "  It 's  quite  a  fault  in  him." 

"  So  it  is,"  said  Martin.  "  Very  true.  There  was  a  fellow  only  a 
week  or  so  ago — a  Mr.  Tigg — who  borrowed  all  the  money  he  had,  on  a 
promise  to  repay  it  in  a  few  days.  It  was  but  half  a  sovereign,  to  be 
sure ;  but  it 's  well  it  was  no  more,  for  he  '11  never  see  it  again." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  John,  who  had  been  very  attentive  to  these 
few  words.  '•  Perhaps  you  have  not  had  an  opportunity  of  observing 
that,  in  his  own  pecuniary  transactions,  Tom's  proud." 

"  You  don't  say  so  !  No,  I  haven't.  What  do  you  mean  ?  Won't  he 
borrow  1 " 

John  Westlock  shook  his  head. 

"  That's  very  odd,"  said  Martin,  setting  down  his  empty  glass. 
"  He 's  a  strange  compound,  to  be  sure." 

"  As  to  receiving  money  as  a  gift,"  resumed  John  Westlock  ;  "  I  think 
he  'd  die  first." 

"  He  's  made  up  of  simplicity,"  said  Martin.      '•  Help  yourself." 

"  You,  however,"  pursued  John,  filling  his  own  glass,  and  looking  at 
his  companion  with  some  curiosity,  "who  are  older  than  the  majority  of 
Mr.  Pecksniff 's  assistants,  and  have  evidently  had  much  more  experience, 
understand  him,  I  have  no  doubt,  and  see  how  liable  he  is  to  be  imposed  upon." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Martin,  stretching  out  his  legs,  and  holdmg  his 
wine  between  his  eye  and  the  light,  "  Mr.  Pecksniff  knows  that  too. 
So  do  his  daughters.     Eh  ?" 

John  Westlock  smiled,  but  made  no  answer. 


152  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

''  Bj  the  bye,"  said  Martin,  "  tLat  reminds  me.  What 's  your  opinion 
of  Pecksniff?  How  did  he  use  you  1  What  do  you  think  of  him  now  1 
— Coolly,  yoa  know,  when  it 's  all  over  ? " 

"Ask  Pinch,"  returned  the  old  pupil.  "  Pie  knows  what  my 
sentiments  used  to  be  upon  the  subject.  They  are  not  changed,  I 
assure  you." 

"No,  no,"  said  Martin,  "I'd  rather  have  them  from  you." 

"  But  Pinch  says  they  are  unjust,"  urged  John  with  a  smile. 

"  Oh  !  well  !  Then  I  know  what  course  they  take  beforehand,"  said 
Martin  ;  "  and,  therefore,  you  can  have  no  delicacy  in  speaking  j)lainly. 
Don't  mind  me,  I  beg.  I  don't  like  him,  I  tell  you  frankly.  I  am  with 
him  because  it  happens  from  particular  circumstances  to  suit  my  con- 
venience. I  have  some  ability,  I  believe,  in  that  way  ;  and  the  obliga- 
tion, if  any,  will  most  likely  be  on  his  side  and  not  mine.  At  the  lowest 
mark,  the  balance  will  be  even  and  there  '11  be  no  obligation  at  all.  So 
you  may  talk  to  me,  as  if  I  had  no  connexion  with  him." 

"  If  you  press  me  to  give  my  opinion  " — returned  John  Westlock. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  said  Martin.     "  You  '11  oblige  me." 

"  I  should  say,"  resumed  the  other,  "  that  he  is  the  most  consummate 
scoundrel  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

"  Oh  !"  said  Martin,  as  coolly  as  ever.      "That's  rather  strong." 

"  Not  stronger  than  he  deserves,"  said  John  ;  "  and  if  he  called  upon 
me  to  express  my  opinion  of  him  to  his  face,  I  would  do  so  in  the  very 
same  terms,  v/ithout  the  least  qualification.  His  treatment  of  Pinch  is 
in  itself  enough  to  justify  them  ;  but  when  I  look  back  upon  the  five 
years  I  passed  in  that  house,  and  remember  the  hypocrisy,  the  knavery, 
the  meannesses,  the  false  pretences,  the  lip  service  of  that  fellow,  and  his 
trading  in  saintly  semblances  for  the  very  worst  realities ;  when  I  remember 
how  often  I  v/as  the  witness  of  all  this,  and  how  often  I  was  made  a  kind 
of  party  to  it,  by  the  fact  of  being  there,  with  him  for  my  teacher  ;  I 
swear  to  you,  that  I  almost  despise  myself" 

Martin  drained  his  glass,  and  looked  at  the  fire. 

"  I  don't  mean  to  say,  that  is  a  right  feeling,"  pursued  John  Westlock, 
"  because  it  was  no  fault  of  mine  ;  and  I  can  quite  understand — ^you,  for 
instance,  fully  appreciating  him,  and  yet  being  forced  by  circumstances 
to  remain  tliere.  I  tell  you  simply  what  my  feeling  is  ;  and  even  now, 
when,  as  you  say,  it 's  all  over ;  and  when  I  have  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  he  always  hated  me,  and  we  always  quarrelled,  and  I 
always  told  him  my  mind  ;  even  now,  I  feel  sorry  that  I  didn't  yield  to  an 
impulse  I  often  had,  as  a  boy,  of  running  away  from  him  and  going 
abroad." 

"  Why  abroad  ?  "  asked  Martin,  turning  his  eyes  upon  the  speaker. 

"  In  search,"  replied  John  Westlock,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "of  the 
livelihood  I  couldn't  have  earned  at  home.  There  would  have  been 
something  spirited  in  that.  But,  come — fill  your  glass,  and  let  us 
forget  him." 

"  As  soon  as  you  please,"  said  Martin.  "  In  reference  to  myself  and 
my  connexion  with  him,  I  have  only  to  repeat  what  1  said  before.  I  have 
taken  my  own  way  with   him  so  far,  and  shall  continue  to  do  so,  even 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  153 

more  than  ever  ;  for  the  fact  is — to  tell  you  the  truth — that  I  believe  he 
looks  to  me  to  supply  his  defects,  and  couldn't  aiford  to  lose  me.  I  had 
a  notion  of  that,  in  first  going  there.     Your  health  !  " 

"  Thank  you/'  returned  young  Westlock.  "  Yours.  And  may  the 
new  pupil  turn  out  as  well  as  you  can  desire  !  " 

"  What  new  pupil  1  " 

'•'  The  fortunate  youth,  born  under  an  auspicious  star,"  returned  John 
Westlock,  laughing;  "whose  parents,  or  guardians,  are  destined  to  be 
hooked  by  the  advertisement.  What  !  don't  you  know  that  he  has 
advertised  again  1  " 

"No." 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  read  it  just  before  dinner  in  the  old  newspaper.  I  know 
it  to  be  his  ;  having  some  reason  to  remember  the  style.  Hush  ! 
Here  's  Pinch.  Strange,  is  it  not,  that  the  more  he  likes  Pecksniff  (if 
he  can  like  him  better  than  he  does),  the  greater  reason  one  has  to  like 
hi7n  ?     Not  a  word  more,  or  we  shall  spoil  his  whole  enjoyment." 

Tom  entered  as  the  words  were  spoken,  with  a  radiant  smile  upon  his 
face  ;  and  rubbing  his  hands,  more  from  a  sense  of  delight  than  because 
he  was  cold  (for  he  had  been  running  fast),  sat  down  in  his  warm  corner 
again,  and  was  as  happy  as — as  only  Tom  Pinch  could  be.  There  is  no 
other  simile  that  will  express  his  state  of  mind. 

"  And  so,"  he  said,  when  he  had  gazed  at  his  friend  for  some  time  in 
silent  pleasure,  "  so  you  really  are  a  gentleman  at  last,  John.  Well, 
to  be  sure  !  " 

"  Trying  to  be,  Tom  ;  trying  to  be,"  he  rejoined  good-humouredly. 
"  There  is  no  saying  what  1  may  turn  out,  in  time." 

"  I  suppose  you  wouldn't  carry  your  own  box  to  the  mail  now,"  said 
Tom  Pinch,  smiling  :  "  although  you  lost  it  altogether  by  not  taking  it." 

"  Wouldn't  I  *?  "  retorted  John.  "  That 's  all  you  know  about  it, 
Pinch.  It  must  be  a  very  lieavy  box  that  I  wouldn't  carry  to  get  away 
from  Pecksniff's,  Tom." 

"There!"  cried  Pinch,  turning  to  Martin,  "  I  told  you  so.  The 
great  fault  in  his  character  is  his  injustice  to  Pecksniff.  You  musn't  mind 
a  word  he  says  on  that  subject.     His  prejudice  is  most  extraordinary." 

"  The  absence  of  anything  like  prejudice  on  Tom's  part,  you  know," 
said  John  Westlock,  laughing  heartily,  as  he  laid  his  hand  on  I\Ir. 
Pinch's  shoulder,  "is  perfectly  wonderful.  If  one  man  ever  had  a 
profound  knowledge  of  another,  and  saw  him  in  a  true  light,  and  in  his 
own  proper  colours,  Tom  has  that  knowledge  of  Mr.  Pecksniff'." 

"'  Vrhy,  of  course  I  have,"  cried  Tom.  "That's  exactly  what  I  have 
so  often  said  to  you.  If  you  knew  him  as  well  as  I  do — John,  I'd  give 
almost  any  money  to  bring  that  about — you'd  admire,  respect,  and 
reverence  him.  You  couldn't  help  it.  Oh,  how  you  wounded  his  feel- 
ings when  you  went  away  !" 

"  If  I  had  known  whereabout  his  feelings  lay,"  retorted  young  West- 
lock,  "I'd  have  done  my  best,  Tom,  with  that  end  in  view,  you  may 
depend  upon  it.  But  as  I  couldn't  wound  him  in  what  he  has  not,  and 
in  what  he  knows  nothing  of,  except  in  his  ability  to  probe  them  to  the 
quick  in  other  people,  I  am  afraid  I  can  lay  no  claim  to  your  compliment." 


154  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

Mr.  Pinch,  being  unwilling  to  protract  a  discussion  whicli  miglit  possibly 
corrupt  Martin,  forbore  to  say  anything  in  reply  to  this  speech  ;  but 
John  Westlock,  whom  nothing  short  of  an  iron  gag  would  have  silenced 
when  Mr.  Pecksniff's  merits  were  once  in  question,  continued  notwith- 
standing. 

^^Hls  feelings  !  Oh,  he's  a  tender-hearted  man.  His  feelings  !  Oh, 
he's  a  considerate,  conscientious,  self-examining,  moral  vagabond,  he  is  ! 
His  feelings  !     Oh  ! — what's  the  matter  Tom  !" 

Mr.  Pinch  was  by  this  time  erect  upon  the  hearth-rug,  buttoning  his- 
coat  with  great  energy. 

"  I  can't  bear  it,"  said  Tom,  shaking  his  head.  "  No.  I  really  can- 
not. You  must  excuse  me,  John.  I  have  a  great  esteem  and  friend- 
ship for  you  ;  I  love  you  very  much  ;  and  have  been  perfectly  charmed 
and  overjoyed  to-day,  to  find  you  just  the  same  as  ever ;  but  I  cannot 
listen  to  this." 

"  Why,  it's  my  old  way,  Tom  ;  and  you  say  yourself  that  you  are- 
glad  to  find  me  unchanged." 

"  Not  in  this  respect,"  said  Tom  Pinch.  "  You  must  excuse  me,  John. 
I  cannot,  really ;  I  will  not.  It's  very  wrong  ;  you  should  be  more 
guarded  in  your  expressions.  It  was  bad  enough  when  you  and  I  used 
to  be  alone  together,  but  under  existing  circumstances,  I  can't  endure  it,, 
really.     No.     I  cannot,  indeed." 

"  Y  ou  are  quite  right  ! "  exclaimed  the  other,  exchanging  looks  with 
Martin  ;  "  and  I  am  quite  wrong,  Tom.  I  don't  know  how  the  deuce- 
we  fell  on  this  unlucky  theme.  I  beg  your  pardon  with  all  my 
heart." 

"You  have  a  free  and  manly  temper,  I  know,"  said  Pinch  ;  "and 
therefore,  your  being  so  ungenerous  in  this  one  solitary  instance,  only 
grieves  me  the  more.  It's  not  my  pardon  you  have  to  ask,  John.  You 
have  done  me  nothing  but  kindnesses." 

"  Well !  Pecksnifi''s  pardon,  then,"  said  young  Westlock.  "  x^nything, 
Tom,  or  anybody.  Pecksnifi"'s  pardon — will  that  do  ?  Here  !  let  us 
drink  Pecksniff"s  health  !" 

"  Thank  you,"  cried  Tom,  shaking  hands  with  him  eagerly,  and 
filling  a  bumper.  "  Thank  you ;  I  11  drink  it  with  all  my  heart,  John. 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  health,  and  prosperity  to  him!" 

John  Westlock  echoed  the  sentiment,  or  nearly  so  ;  for  he  drank  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  health,  and  Something  to  him — but  what,  was  not  quite 
audible.  The  general  unanimity  being  then  completely  restored,  they 
drew  their  chairs  closer  round  the  fire,  and  conversed  in  perfect  harmony 
and  enjoyment  until  bed-time. 

No  slight  circumstance,  perhaps,  could  have  better  illustrated  the 
difference  of  character  between  John  Westlock  and  Martin  Chuzzlewit, 
than  the  manner  in  which  each  of  the  young  men  contemplated  Tom 
Pinch,  after  the  little  rupture  just  described.  There  was  a  certain 
amount  of  jocularity  in  the  looks  of  both,  no  doubt,  but  there  all 
resemblance  ceased.  The  old  pupil  could  not  do  enough  to  show  Tom 
how  cordially  he  felt  towards  him,  and  his  friendly  regard  seemed  of  a 
graver  and  more  thoughtful  kind  than  before.     The  new  one,  on  the- 


MAETIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  155 

other  hand,  had  no  impulse  but  to  laugh  at  the  recollection  of  Tom's 
extreme  absurdity ;  and  mingled  with  his  amusement  there  was  some- 
thing slighting  and  contemptuous,  indicative,  as  it  appeared,  of  his 
opinion  that  Mr.  Pinch  was  much  too  far  gone  in  simplicity,  to  be  ad- 
mitted as  the  friend,  on  serious  and  equal  terms,  of  any  rational  man. 

John  Westlock,  who  did  nothing  by  halves,  if  he  could  help  it,  had 
provided  beds  for  his  two  guests  in  the  hotel ;  and  after  a  very  happy 
evening,  they  retired.  Mr.  Pinch  was  sitting  on  the  side  of  his  bed 
with  his  cravat  and  shoes  off,  ruminating  on  the  manifold  good  qualities 
of  his  old  friend,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  a  knock  at  his  chamber 
door,  and  the  voice  of  John  himself, 

"  You  're  not  asleep  yet,  are  you,  Tom  1 " 

"  Bless  you,  no  !  not  I.  I  was  thinking  of  you,"  replied  Tom,  opening 
the  door.     "  Gome  in." 

"  I  am  not  going  to  detain  you,"  said  John  ;  "  but  I  have  forgotten  all 
the  evening  a  little  commission  I  took  upon  myself ;  and  I  am  afraid  I 
may  forget  it  again,  if  I  fail  to  discharge  it  at  once.  You  know  a 
Mr.  Tigg,  Tom,  I  believe?" 

"  Tigg  !"  cried  Tom.  "  Tigg  !  The  gentleman  who  borrowed  some 
money  of  me  1 " 

"  Exactly,"  said  John  Westlock.  "  He  begged  me  to  present  his 
compliments,  and  to  return  it  with  many  thanks.  Here  it  is.  I 
suppose  it 's  a  good  one,  but  he  is  rather  a  doubtful  kind  of  customer, 
Tom." 

Mr.  Pinch  received  the  little  piece  of  gold,  with  a  face  whose  bright- 
ness might  have  shamed  the  metal  ;  and  said  he  had  no  fear  about  that. 
He  was  glad,  he  added,  to  find  Mr.  Tigg  so  prompt  and  honourable  in 
his  dealings  ;  very  glad. 

"  Why,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Tom,"  replied  his  friend,  "  he  is  not 
always  so.  If  you'll  take  my  advice,  youll  avoid  him  as  much  as  you 
can,  in  the  event  of  your  encountering  him  again.  And  by  no  means 
Tom — pray  bear  this  in  mind,  for  I  am  very  serious — by  no  means  lend 
him  money  any  more." 

"  Aye,  aye  ! "  said  Tom,  with  his  eyes  wide  open. 

"  He  is  very  far  from  being  a  reputable  acquaintance,"  returned  young 
Westlock  ;  "  and  the  more  you  let  him  know  you  think  so,  the  better 
ior  YOU,  Tom," 

"  I  say,  John,"  quoth  ^Ir.  Pinch,  as  his  countenance  fell,  and  he  shook 
his  head  in  a  dejected  manner,  *•  I  hope  you 're  not  getting  into  bad 
company." 

"  No,  no,"  he  replied  laughing.      "  Don't  be  uneasy  on  that  score." 

"  Oh  but  I  am  uneasy,"  said  Tom  Pinch  ;  "  I  can't  help  it,  when  I  hear 
you  talking  in  that  way.  If  Mr.  Tigg  is  what  you  describe  him  to  be, 
you  have  no  business  to  know  him,  John.  You  may  laugh,  but  I  don't 
consider  it  by  any  means  a  laughing  matter,  I  assure  you." 

"  No,  no,"  returned  his  friend,  composing  his  features,  "  Quite  right. 
It  is  not,  certainly," 

"  You  know,  John,"  said  Mr,  Pinch,  '^  your  very  good  nature  and 
kindness  of  heart  make  you  thoughtless  ;  and  you  can't  be  too  careful 


156  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

on  siicli  a  point  as  this.  Upon  my  word,  if  I  thought  you  were  falling 
among  bad  companions,  I  should  be  quite  wretched,  for  I  know  how 
difficult  you  would  find  it  to  shake  them  off.  I  would  much  rather 
have  lost  this  money,  John,  than  I  would  have  had  it  back  again  on 
such  terms." 

"  I  tell  you,  my  dear  good  old  fellow,"  cried  his  friend,  shaking  him 
to  and  fro  with  both  hands,  and  smiling  at  him  with  a  cheerful,  open 
countenance,  that  would  have  carried  conviction  to  a  mind  much  more 
suspicious  than  Tom's  ;  "  I  tell  you  there  is  no  danger." 

"  Well  !"  cried  Tom,  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  it  ;  I  am  overjoyed  to  hear 
it.  I  am  sure  there  is  not,  when  you  say  so  in  that  manner.  You  won't 
take  it  ill,  John,  that  I  said  what  I  did  just  now  ]" 

"  111  !"  said  the  other,  giving  his  hand  a  hearty  squeeze  ;  "why  what 
do  you  think  I  am  made  of?  Mr.  Tigg  and  I  are  not  on  such  an 
intimate  footing  that  you  need  be  at  all  uneasy  ;  I  give  you  my  solemn 
assurance  of  that,  Tom.     You  are  quite  comfortable  now  V 

"  Quite,"  said  Tom. 

"  Then  once  more,  good  night !" 

"  Good  night  ! "  cried  Tom  ;  "  and  such  pleasant  dreams  to  you,  as 
should  attend  the  sleep  of  the  best  fellow  in  the  world!" 

"  Except  Pecksniff,"  said  his  friend,  stopping  at  the  door  for  a  moment, 
and  looking  gaily  back. 

"  Except  Pecksniff,"  answered  Tom,  with  great  gravity  ;  "  of  course." 

And  thus  they  parted  for  the  night ;  John  Westlock  full  of  light- 
heartedness  and  good  humour  ;  and  poor  Tom  Pinch  quite  satisfied, 
though  still,  as  he  turned  over  on  his  side  in  bed,  he  muttered  to 
himself,  "  I  really  do  wish,  for  all  that,  though,  that  he  wasn't  acquainted 
with  Mr.  Tigg  !" 

They  breakfasted  together  very  early  next  morning,  for  the  two 
young  men  desired  to  get  back  again  in  good  season  ;  and  John  West- 
lock  was  to  return  to  London  by  the  coach  that  day.  As  he  had  some 
hours  to  spare,  he  bore  them  company  for  three  or  four  miles  on  their 
walk  ;  and  only  parted  from  them  at  last  in  sheer  necessity.  The 
parting  was  an  unusually  hearty  one,  not  only  as  between  him  and 
Tom  Pinch,  but  on  the  side  of  Martin  also,  who  had  found  in  the  old 
pupil  a  very  different  sort  of  person  from  the  milksop  he  had  prepared 
himself  to  expect. 

Young  Westlock  stopped  upon  a  rising  ground,  when  he  had  gone  a 
little  distance,  and  looked  back.  They  were  walking  at  a  brisk  pace, 
and  Tom  appeared  to  be  talking  earnestly.  Martin  had  taken  ofi'  his 
great-coat,  the  wind  being  now  behind  them,  and  carried  it  upon  his 
arm.  As  he  looked,  he  saw  Tom  relieve  him  of  it,  after  a  faint  resist- 
ance, and,  throwing  it  upon  his  own,  encumber  himself  with  the  weight 
of  both.  This  trivial  incident  impressed  the  old  pupil  mightily,  for  he 
stood  there,  gazing  after  tliem,  until  they  were  hidden  from  his  view ; 
when  he  shook  his  head,  as  if  he  were  troubled  by  some  uneasy  reflection, 
and  thoughtfully  retraced  his  steps  to  Salisbury. 

In  the  mean  time,  Martin  and  Tom  pursued  their  way,  until  they 
halted,  safe  and  sound,  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house,  where  a  brief  epistle 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  157 

from  that  good  gentleman  to  Mr.  Pinch,  announced  the  family's  return 
bj  that  night's  coach.  As  it  would  pass  the  corner  of  the  lane  at  about 
six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Mr.  Pecksniff  requested  that  the  gig  might 
be  in  waiting  at  the  finger-post  about  that  time,  together  with  a  cart 
for  the  luffo-affe.  And  to  the  end  that  he  mioht  be  received  with  the 
greater  honour,  the  young  men  agreed  to  rise  early,  and  be  upon 
the  spot  themselves. 

It  was  the  least  cheerful  day  they  had  yet  passed  together.  Martin 
was  out  of  spirits  and  out  of  humour,  and  took  every  opportunity  of 
comparing  his  condition  and  prospects  with  those  of  young  Westlock  : 
much  to  his  own  disadvantage  always.  This  mood  of  his  depressed 
Tom ;  and  neither  that  morning's  parting,  nor  yesterday's  dinner, 
helped  to  mend  the  matter.  So  the  hours  dragged  on  heavily  enough  ; 
and  they  were  glad  to  go  to  bed  early. 

They  were  not  quite  so  glad  to  get  up  again  at  half-past  four  o'clock, 
in  all  the  shivering  discomfort  of  a  dark  winter's  morning  ;  but  they 
turned  out  punctually,  and  were  at  the  finger-post  full  half-an-hour 
before  the  appointed  time.  It  was  not  by  any  means  a  lively  morning, 
for  the  sky  was  black  and  cloudy,  and  it  rained  hard  ;  but  Martin  said 
there  was  some  satisfaction  in  seeing  that  brute  of  a  horse  (by  this,  he 
meant  Mr.  Pecksniff's  Arab  steed)  getting  very  wet ;  and  that  he 
rejoiced,  on  his  account,  that  it  rained  so  fast.  From  this  it  may  be 
inferred,  that  Martin's  spirits  had  not  improved,  as  indeed  they  had  not ; 
for  while  he  and  Mr.  Pinch  stood  waiting  under  a  hedge,  looking  at  the 
rain,  the  gig,  the  cart,  and  its  reeking  driver,  he  did  nothing  but 
grumble  ;  and,  but  that  it  is  indispensable  to  any  dispute  that  there 
should  be  two  parties  to  it,  he  would  certainly  have  picked  a  quarrel 
with  Tom. 

At  length  the  noise  of  wheels  was  faintly  audible  in  the  distance, 
and  presently  the  coach  came  splashing  through  the  mud  and  mire, 
with  one  miserable  outside  passenger  crouching  down  among  wet  straw, 
under  a  saturated  umbrella ;  and  the  coachman,  guard,  and  horses,  in  a 
fellowship  of  dripping  wretchedness.  Immediately  on  its  stopping,  Mr. 
Pecksnifi'  let  down  the  window-glass  and  hailed  Tom  Pinch. 

"  Dear  me,  Mr.  Pinch  !  is  it  possible  that  you  are  out  upon  this  rery 
inclement  morning  V 

"Yes,  sir,"  cried  Tom,  advancing  eagerly,  "Mr.  Chuzzlewit  and  I,  sir — " 

"Oh  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking,  not  so  much  at  Martin  as  at  the 
spot  on  which  he  stood.  "  Oh  !  Indeed  !  Do  me  the  favour  to  see 
to  the  trunks,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Pinch." 

Then  Mr.  Pecksniff  descended,  and  helped  his  daughters  to  alight ; 
but  neither  he  nor  the  young  ladies  took  the  slightest  notice  of  Martin, 
w^ho  had  advanced  to  offer  his  assistance,  but  was  repulsed  by  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's standing  immediately  before  his  person,  with  his  back  towards 
him.  In  the  same  manner,  and  in  profound  silence,  Mr.  Pecksniff 
handed  his  daughters  into  the  gig  ;  and  following  himself  and  taking 
the  reins,  drove  off  home. 

Lost  in  astonishment,  Martin  stood  staring  at  the  coach  ;  and  when 
the  coacji  had  driven  away,  at  Mr.  Pinch  and  the  luggage  j  until  the 
cart  moved  off  too  ;  when  he  said  to  Tom  : 


158  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Now,  Vv'ill  you  have  tlie  goodness  to  tell  me  what  this  portends  V 

"  What  r' asked  Tom. 

"  This  fellow's  behaviour — Mr.  Pecksniff's  I  mean.     You  saw  it?" 

"  No.     Indeed  I  did  not,"  cried  Tom.     "  I  was  busy  with  the  trunks." 

"  It  is  no  matter,"  said  Martin.  "  Come  !  Let  us  m.ake  haste  back." 
And  without  another  word  he  started  off  at  such  a  pace,  that  Tom  had 
some  difficulty  in  keeping  up  with  him. 

He  had  no  care  where  he  went,  but  walked  through  little  heaps  of 
mud  and  little  pools  of  water  with  the  utmost  indifference  ;  looking 
straight  before  him,  and  sometimes  laughing  in  a  strange  manner  within 
himself  Tom  felt  that  anything  he  could  say  would  only  render  him 
the  more  obstinate,  and  therefore  trusted  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  manner  when 
they  reached  the  house,  to  remove  the  mistaken  impression  under  which 
he  felt  convinced  so  great  a  favourite  as  the  new  pupil  must  unquestion- 
ably be  labouring.  But  he  was  not  a  little  amazed  himself,  when  they 
did  reach  it,  and  entered  the  parlour  where  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  sitting 
alone  before  the  fire,  drinking  some  hot  tea,  to  find,  that  instead  of  taking- 
favourable  notice  of  his  relative,  and  keeping  him,  Mr.  Pinch,  in  the 
background,  he  did  exactly  the  reverse,  and  was  so  lavish  in  his  atten- 
tions that  Tom  was  thoroughly  confounded. 

"  Take  some  tea,  Mr.  Pinch — take  some  tea,"  said  Pecksniff,  stirring 
the  fire.  "  You  must  be  very  cold  and  damp.  Pray  take  some  tea,  and 
come  into  a  warm  place,  Mr.  Pinch." 

Tom  saw  that  Martin  looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  though  he  could  have 

o 

easily  found  it  in  his  heart  to  give  him  an  invitation  to  a  very  warm 
place  ;  but  he  was  quite  silent,  and  standing  opposite  that  gentleman  at 
the  table,  regarded  him  attentively. 

"  Take  a  chair,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff.  "  Take  a  chair,  if  you 
please.     How  have  things  gone  on  in  our  absence,  Mr.  Pinch?" 

"  You — ^you  will  be  very  much  pleased  with  the  grammar-school,  sir," 
said  Tom.     "  It 's  nearly  finished." 

"  If  you  will  have  the  goodness,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  waving  his 
hand  and  smiling,  "  we  will  not  discuss  anything  connected  with  that 
<][uestion  at  present.     What  have  you  been  doing,  Thomas,  humph  ?" 

Mr.  Pinch  looked  from  master  to  pupil,  and  from  pupil  to  master, 
and  was  so  perplexed  and  dismayed,  that  he  wanted  presence  of  mind  to 
answer  the  question.  In  this  awkward  interval,  Mr.  Pecksniff  (who  was 
perfectly  conscious  of  Martin's  gaze,  though  he  had  never  once  glanced 
towards  him)  poked  the  fire  very  much,  and  when  he  couldn't  do  that 
any  more,  drank  tea,  assiduously. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  said  Martin  at  last,  in  a  very  quiet  voice,  "  if 
you  have  sufficiently  refreshed  and  recovered  yourself,  I  shall  be  glad  to 
hear  what  you  mean  by  this  treatment  of  me." 

"  And  what,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turning  his  eyes  on  Tom  Pinch,  even 
more  placidly  and  gently  than  before,  "  what  have  you  been  doing 
Thomas,  humph  V 

When  he  had  repeated  this  inquiry,  ho  looked  round  the  walls  of  the 
room  as  if  he  were  curious  to  see  whether  any  nails  had  been  left  there 
by  accident  in  former  times.  , 

Tom  was  almost  at  his  wits'  end  what  to  say  between  the  two,  and 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  159 

had  already  made  a  gesture  as  if  he  would  call  Mr.  Pecksniff's  attention 
to  the  gentleman  who  had  last  addressed  him,  when  Martin  saved  him 
further  trouble,  by  doing  so  himself 

"  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  he  said,  softly  rapping  the  table  twice  or  thrice,  and 
moving  a  step  or  two  nearer,  so  that  he  could  have  touched  him  with  his 
hand  ;  "  you  heard  what  I  said  just  now.  Do  me  the  favour  to  reply, 
if  you  please.  I  ask  you  " — he  raised  his  voice  a  little  here — "  what  you 
mean  by  this  1" 

"  I  will  talk  to  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  a  severe  voice,  as  he 
looked  at  him  for  the  first  time,  "  presently." 

"  You  are  very  obliging,"  returned  Martin  ;  "  presently  will  not  do. 
I  must  trouble  you  to  talk  to  me  at  once." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  made  a  feint  of  being  deeply  interested  in  his  pocket- 
book,  but  it  shook  in  his  hands  ;  he  trembled  so, 

"  Now,"  retorted  Martin,  rapping  the  table  again.  "  Now.  Presently 
will  not  do.     Now  !" 

"  Do  you  threaten  me,  sir  ?"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

Martin  looked  at  him,  and  made  no  answer  ;  but  a  curious  observer 
might  have  detected  an  ominous  twitching  at  his  mouth,  and  perhaps  an 
involuntary  attraction  of  his  right  hand  in  the  direction  of  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's cravat. 

"  I  lament  to  be  obliged  to  say,  sir,"  resumed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  that 
it  would  be  quite  in  keeping  with  your  character  if  you  did  threaten  me. 
You  have  deceived  me.  You  have  imposed  upon  a  nature  which  you 
knew  to  be  confiding  and  unsuspicious.  You  have  obtained  admission, 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  rising,  "  to  this  house,  on  perverted  statements, 
and  on  false  pretences." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Martin,  with  a  scornful  smile.  "  I  understand  you 
now.     What  more?" 

"  Thus  much  more,  sir,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  trembling  from  head  to 
foot,  and  trying  to  rub  his  hands,  as  though  he  were  only  cold.  "  Thus 
much  more,  if  you  force  me  to  publish  your  shame  before  a  third  party, 
which  I  was  unwilling  and  indisposed  to  do.  This  lowly  roof,  sir,  must 
not  be  contaminated  by  the  presence  of  one,  who  has  deceived,  and  cruelly 
■deceived,  an  honourable,  beloved, venerated,  and  venerable  gentleman;  and 
who  wisely  suppressed  that  deceit  from  me  when  he  sought  my  protection 
and  favour,  knowing  that  humble  as  I  am,  I  am  an  honest  man,  seeking 
to  do  my  duty  in  this  carnal  universe,  and  setting  my  face  against  all  vice 
and  treachery.  I  weep  for  your  depravity,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
"  I  mourn  over  your  corruption,  I  pity  your  voluntary  withdrawal  of 
yourself  from  the  flowery  paths  of  purity  and  peace ;"  here  he  struck 
himself  upon  his  breast,  or  moral  garden  ;  "  but  I  cannot  have  a  leper 
and  a  serpent  for  an  inmate.  Go  forth,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  stretching 
out  his  hand  :  "  go  forth,  young  man  !  Like  all  who  know  you,  I 
renounce  you  !" 

With  what  intention  Martin  made  a  stride  forward  at  these  words,  it 
is  impossible  to  say.  It  is  enough  to  know  that  Tom  Pinch  caught  him 
in  his  arms,  and  that  at  the  same  moment  Mr.  Pecksniff  stepped  back 
so  hastily,  that  he  missed  his  footing,  tumbled  over  a  chair,  and  fell  in 
a  sitting  posture  on  the  ground  ;  where  he  remained  without  an  effort  to 


160  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

get  up  again,  with  his  head  in  a  corner ;  perhaps  considering  it  the 
safest  place. 

"  Let  me  go,  Pinch  ! "  cried  Martin,  shaking  him  away.  "  Why  do 
you  hold  me  !  Do  you  think  a  blow  could  make  him  a  more  abject 
creature  than  he  is  1  Do  you  think  that  if  I  spat  upon  him,  I  could 
degrade  him  to  a  lower  level  than  his  own  ?  Look  at  him.  Look  at 
him,  Pinch  !" 

Mr.  Pinch  involuntarily  did  so.  Mr.  Pecksniff  sitting,  as  has  been 
already  mentioned,  on  the  carpet,  with  his  head  in  an  acute  angle  of  the 
wainscot,  and  all  the  damage  and  detriment  of  an  uncomfortable  journey 
about  him,  was  not  exactly  a  model  of  all  that  is  prepossessing  and  digni- 
fied in  man,  certainly.  Still  he  was  Pecksniff;  it  was  impossible  to 
deprive  him  of  that  unique  and  paramount  appeal  to  Tom,  And  he 
returned  Tom's  glance,  as  if  he  would  have  said,  "  Aye,  Mr.  Pinch,  look 
at  me  !  Here  I  am  !  You  know  what  the  Poet  says  about  an  honest  man ; 
and  an  honest  man  is  one  of  the  few  great  works  that  can  be  seen  for 
nothing  !     Look  at  me  ! " 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  Martin,  "that  as  he  lies  there,  disgraced,  bought,  used ; 
a  cloth  for  dirty  hands  ;  a  mat  for  dirty  feet ;  a  lying,  fawning,  servile 
hound  ;  he  is  the  very  last  and  worst  among  the  vermin  of  the  world. 
And  mark  me.  Pinch.  The  day  will  come — he  knows  it :  see  it  written  on 
his  face,  the  while  I  speak  ! — when  even  you  will  find  him  out,  and  will 
know  him  as  I  do,  and  as  he  knows  I  do.  lie  renounce  me  !  Cast  your 
eyes  on  the  Renouncer,  Pinch,  and  be  the  wiser  for  the  recollection  !" 

He  pointed  at  him  as  he  spoke,  with  unutterable  contempt,  and  fling- 
ing his  hat  upon  his  head,  walked  from  the  room  and  from  the  house. 
He  went  so  rapidly  that  he  was  already  clear  of  the  village,  when  he 
heard  Tom  Pinch  calling  breathlessly  after  him  in  the  distance. 

"  Well !    what  now  ]"  he  said,  when  Tom  came  up. 

"  Dear,  dear  !"  cried  Tom,  "  are  you  going  ?" 

"  Going  !"  he  echoed.      "  Going  !" 

"  I  didn't  so  much  mean  that,  as  were  you  going  now  at  once — in  this 
bad  weather — on  foot — without  your  clothes — with  no  money  ?"  cried 
Tom. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  sternly,  "  I  am." 

"  And  where  V  cried  Tom,     "  Oh  where  will  you  go  1" 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said. — "  Yes  I  do.     I'll  go  to  America  !  " 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Tom,  in  a  kind  of  agony.  "  Don't  go  there.  Pray 
don't !  Think  better  of.  it.  Don't  be  so  dreadfully  regardless  of  your- 
self.    Don't  go  to  America  !" 

"  My  mind  is  made  up,"  he  said.  "  Your  friend  was  right.  I  '11  go 
to  America.     God  bless  you.  Pinch  !" 

"  Take  this  ! "  cried  Tom,  pressing  a  book  upon  him  in  great  agi- 
tation. "  I  must  make  haste  back,  and  can't  say  anything  I  would. 
Heaven  be  with  you.  Look  at  the  leaf  I  have  turned  down.  Good 
bye,  good  bye  ! " 

The  simple  fellow  wrung  him  by  the  hand  with  tears  stealing  down 
his  cheeks  ;  and  they  parted  hurriedly  upon  their  separate  ways. 


/^ey  62^.i 


'u:>e6^y€yV: 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  161 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

SHOWING,  WHAT  BECAME  OF  MARTIN  AND  HIS  DESPERATE  RESOLVE, 
AFTER  HE  LEFT  MR.  PECKSNIFF's  HOUSE  ;  VrilAT  PERSONS  HE  EN- 
COUNTERED ;  WHAT  ANXIETIES  HE  SUFFERED  ;  AND  WHAT  NEWS 
HE    HEARD. 

Carrying  Tom  Pinch's  book  quite  unconsciously  under  his  arm,  and 
not  even  buttoning  his  coat  as  a  protection  against  the  heavy  rain, 
Martin  went  doggedly  forward  at  the  same  quick  pace,  until  he  had 
passed  the  finger-post,  and  was  on  the  high  road  to  London.  He 
slackened  very  little  in  his  speed  even  then,  but  he  began  to  think, 
and  look  about  him,  and  to  disengage  his  senses  from  the  coil  of  angry 
passions  which  hitherto  had  held  them  prisoner. 

It  must  be  confessed  that  at  that  moment  he  had  no  very  agreeable 
employment  either  for  his  moral  or  his  physical  perceptions.  The  day  was 
dawning  from  a  patch  of  watery  light  in  the  east,  and  sullen  clouds  came 
driving  up  before  it,  from  which  the  rain  descended  in  a  thick,  wet  mist. 
It  streamed  from  every  twig  and  bramble  in  the  hedge ;  made  little  gullies 
in  the  path ;  ran  down  a  hundred  channels  in  the  road  ;  and  punched 
innumerable  holes  into  the  face  of  every  pond  and  gutter.  It  fell  with 
an  oozy,  slushy  sound  among  the  grass  ;  and  made  a  muddy  kennel  of 
every  furrow  in  the  ploughed  fields.  No  living  creature  was  anywhere 
to  be  seen.  The  prospect  could  hardly  have  been  more  desolate  if 
animated  nature  had  been  dissolved  in  water,  and  poured  down  upon 
the  earth  again  in  that  form. 

The  range  of  view  within  the  solitary  traveller,  was  quite  as  cheerless 
as  the  scene  without.  Friendless  and  penniless  ;  incensed  to  the  last 
degree  ;  deeply  wounded  in  his  pride  and  self-love  ;  full  of  independent 
schemes ;  and  perfectly  destitute  of  any  means  of  realizing  them  ;  his 
most  vindictive  enemy  might  have  been  satisfied  with  the  extent  of  his 
troubles.  To  add  to  his  other  miseries,  he  was  by  this  time  sensible  of 
being  wet  to  the  skin,  and  cold  at  his  very  heart. 

In  this  deplorable  condition,  he  remembered  Mr.  Pinch's  book  ;  more 
because  it  was  rather  troublesome  to  carry,  than  from  any  hope  of  being- 
comforted  by  that  parting-gift.  He  looked  at  the  dingy  lettering  on 
the  back,  and  finding  it  to  be  an  odd  volume  of  the  "  Bachelor  of  Sala- 
manca," in  the  French  tongue,  cursed  Tom  Pinch's  folly,  twenty  times. 
He  was  on  the  point  of  throwing  it  away,  in  his  ill-humour  and  vexa- 
tion, when  he  bethought  himself  that  Tom  had  referred  him  to  a  leaf, 
turned  down  ;  and  opening  it,  at  that  place,  that  he  might  have  addi- 
tional cause  of  complaint  against  him  for  supposing  that  any  cold  scrap 
of  the  Bachelor's  wisdom  could  cheer  him  in  such  circumstances, 
found — 

Well,  -well  !  not  much,  but  Tom's  all.  The  half-sovereign.  He  had 
wrapped  it  hastily  in  a  piece  of  paper,  and  pinned  it  to  the  leaf.     These 

M 


162  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

words  were  scrawled  in  pencil  on  the  inside  :  "  I  don't  want  it,  indeed, 
I  should  not  know  what  to  do  with  it,  if  I  had  it." 

There  are  some  falsehoods,  Tom,  on  which  men  mount,  as  on  bright 
wings,  towards  Heaven.  There  are  some  truths,  cold,  bitter,  taunting 
truths,  wherein  your  worldlj  scholars  are  very  apt  and  punctual,  which 
bind  men  down  to  earth  with  leaden  chains.  Who  would  not  rather 
have  to  fan  him,  in  his  dying  hour,  the  lightest  feather  of  a  falsehood 
such  as  thine,  than  all  the  quills  that  have  been  plucked  from  the  sharp 
porcupine,  reproachful  truth,  since  time  began  ! 

Martin  felt  keenly  for  himself,  and  he  felt  this  good  deed  of  Tom's 
keenly.  After  a  few  minutes  it  had  the  effect  of  raising  his  spirits,  and 
reminding  him  that  he  was  not  altogether  destitute,  as  he  had  left  a  fair 
stock  of  clothes  behind  him,  and  wore  a  gold  hunting-watch  in  his 
pocket.  He  found  a  curious  gratification,  too,  in  thinking  what  a 
winning  fellow  he  must  be  to  have  made  such  an  impression  on  Tom  ; 
and  in  reflecting  how  superior  he  was  to  Tom  ;  and  how  much  more  likely 
to  make  his  way  in  the  world.  Animated  by  these  thoughts,  and 
strengthened  in  his  design  of  endeavouring  to  push  his  fortune  in  another 
country,  he  resolved  to  get  to  London  as  a  rallying-point,  in  the  best 
way  he  could  ;  and  to  lose  no  time  about  it. 

He  was  ten  good  miles  from  the  village  made  illustrious  by  being  the 
abiding-place  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  when  he  stopped  to  breakfast  at  a  little 
road-side  alehouse  ;  and  resting  upon  a  high-backed  settle  before  the 
fire,  pulled  off  his  coat,  and  hung  it  before  the  cheerful  blaze,  to  dry. 
It  was  a  very  different  place  from  the  last  tavern  in  which  he  had 
regaled  :  boasting  no  greater  extent  of  accommodation  than  the  brick- 
floored  kitchen  yielded  :  but  the  mind  so  soon  accommodates  itself  to 
the  necessities  of  the  body,  that  this  poor  waggoner's  house-of-call, 
which  he  would  have  despised  yesterday,  became  now  quite  a  choice  hotel ; 
while  his  dish  of  eggs  and  bacon,  and  his  mug  of  beer,  were  not  by  any 
means  the  coarse  fare  he  had  supposed,  but  fully  bore  out  the  inscrip- 
tion on  the  window-shutter,  which  proclaimed  those  viands  to  be  "  Good 
entertainment  for  Travellers." 

He  pushed  away  his  empty  plate  ;  and  with  a  second  mug  upon  the 
hearth  before  him,  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  fire  until  his  eyes  ached. 
Then  he  looked  at  the  highly-coloured  scripture  pieces  on  the  walls,  in 
little  black  frames  like  common  shaving-glasses,  and  saw  how  the  Wise 
Men  (with  a  strong  family  likeness  among  them)  worshipped  in  a  pink 
manger ;  and  how  the  Prodigal  Son  came  home  in  red  rags  to  a  purple 
father,  and  already  feasted  his  imagination  on  a  sea-green  calf.  Then 
he  glanced  through  the  window  at  the  falling  rain,  coming  down 
aslant  upon  the  signpost  over  against  the  house,  and  overflowing  the 
horse-trough  ;  and  then  he  looked  at  the  fire  again,  and  seemed  to 
descry  a  doubly-distant  London,  retreating  among  the  fragments  of  the 
burning  wood. 

He  had  repeated  this  process  in  just  the  same  order,  many  times,  as 
if  it  were  a  matter  of  necessity,  when  the  sound  of  wheels  called  his 
attention  to  the  window,  out  of  its  regular  turn  ;  and  there  he  beheld  a 
kind  of  light  van  drawn  by  four  horses,  and  laden,  as  well  as  he  could 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  163 

see  (for  it;  was  covered  in),  with  corn  and  straw.  The  driver,  who  was 
alone,  stopped  at  the  door  to  water  his  team,  and  presently  came  stamp- 
ing and  shaking  the  wet  oiF  his  hat  and  coat,  into  the  room  where 
Martin  sat. 

He  was  a  red-faced  hurly  young  fellow ;  smart  in  his  way,  and  with 
a  good-humoured  countenance.  As  he  advanced  towards  the  fire,  he 
touched  his  shining  forehead  with  the  forefinger  of  his  stiff  leather 
glove,  by  way  of  salutation  ;  and  said  (rather  unnecessarily)  that  it  was 
an  uncommon  wet  day. 

"  Very  wet,"  said  Martin. 

"  I  don't  know  as  ever  I  see  a  wetter." 

"  I  never  felt  one,"  said  Martin. 

The  driver  glanced  at  Martin's  soiled  dress,  and  his  damp  shirt- 
sleeves, and  his  coat  hung  up  to  dry ;  and  said,  after  a  pause,  as  he 
warmed  his  hands  : 

"  You  have  been  caught  in  it,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,"  was  the  short  reply. 

"  Out  riding,  maybe  %  "  said  the  driver. 
:     "  I  should  have  been  if  I  owned  a  horse;  but  I  don't,"  returned  Martin. 

"  That 's  bad,"  said  the  driver. 

"  And  may  be  worse,"  said  Martin. 

Now,  the  driver  said  "  That 's  bad,"  not  so  much  because  Martin 
didn't  own  a  horse,  as  because  he  said  he  didn't  with  all  the  reckless 
desperation  of  his  mood  and  circumstances,  and  so  left  a  great  deal  to  be 
inferred.  Martin  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  whistled,  when  he 
had  retorted  on  the  driver  :  thus  giving  him  to  understand  that  he 
didn't  care  a  pin  for  Fortune  ;  that  he  was  above  pretending  to  be  her 
favourite  when  he  was  not ;  and  that  he  snapped  his  fingers  at  her,  the 
driver,  and  everybody  else. 

The  driver  looked  at  him  stealthily  for  a  minute  or  so  ;  and  in  the 
pauses  of  his  warming,  whistled  too.  At  length  he  asked,  as  he  pointed 
his  thumb  towards  the  road, 

"Up  or  down?" 
^    "  Which  is  up  ? "  said  Martin. 

"  London,  of  course,"  said  the  driver. 

"  Up  then,"  said  Martin.  He  tossed  his  head  in  a  careless  manner 
afterwards,  as  if  he  would  have  added,  "  Now  you  know  all  about  it ; " 
put  his  hands  deeper  into  his  pockets  j  changed  his  tune,  and  whistled 
a  little  louder. 

"  1  'm  going  up,"  observed  the  driver;  "  Hounslow,  ten  miles  this  side 
London." 

"  Are  you  ?  "  cried  Martin,  stopping  short  and  looking  at  him. 

The  driver  sprinkled  the  fire  with  his  wet  hat  until  it  hissed  again, 
and  answered,  '  Ay  ;  to  be  sure  he  was.' 

"  Why,  then,"  said  Martin,  "  I'll  be  plain  with  you.  You  may  sup- 
pose from  my  dress  that  I  have  money  to  spare.  I  have  not.  All  I 
can  afibrd  for  coach-hire  is  a  crown,  for  I  have  but  two.  If  you  can 
take  me  for  that,  and  my  w^aistcoat,  or  this  silk  handkerchief,  do.  If 
you  can't,  leave  it  alone." 

m2 


164  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Short  and  sweet,"  remarked  the  driver. 

"  You  want  more  1 "  said  Martin.  "  Then  I  haven't  got  more,  and 
I  can't  get  it,  so  there's  an  end  of  that."  Whereupon  he  began  to 
whistle  again. 

"  I  didn't  say  I  wanted  more,  did  I  ? "  asked  the  driver,  with  some- 
thing like  indignation. 

"  You  didn't  say  my  offer  was  enough,"  rejoined  Martin. 

"  Why  how  could  I,  when  you  wouldn't  let  me  1  In  regard  to  the 
waistcoat,  I  wouldn't  have  a  man's  waistcoat,  much  less  a  gentleman's 
waistcoat,  on  my  mind,  for  no  consideration  ;  but  the  silk  handker- 
chief's another  thing  ;  and  if  you  was  satisfied  w^hen  we  got  to  Hounslow, 
I  shouldn't  object  to  that  as  a  gift." 

"  Is  it  a  bargain,  then  1 "  said  Martin. 

"  Yes,  it  is,"  returned  the  other. 

"  Then  finish  this  beer,"  said  Martin,  handing  him  the  mug,  and 
pulling  on  his  coat  with  great'  "alacrity  ;  "  and  let  us  be  off  as  soon  as 
you  like." 

In  two  minutes  more  he  had  paid  his  bill,  which  amounted  to  a 
shilling ;  was  lying  at  fiill  length  on  a  truss  of  straw,  high  and  dry  at 
the  top  of  the  van,  with  the  tilt  a  little  open  in  front  for  the  convenience 
of  talking  to  his  new  friend ;  and  was  moving  along  in  the  right 
direction  with  a  most  satisfactory  and  encouraging  briskness. 

The  driver's  name,  as  he  soon  informed  Martin,  was  William  Sim- 
mons, better  known  as  Bill ;  and  his  spruce  appearance  was  sufficiently 
explained  by  his  connexion  with  a  large  stage-coaching  establishment  at 
Hounslow,  whither  he  was  conveying  his  load  from  a  farm  belonging  to 
the  concern  in  Wiltshire.  He  was  frequently  up  and  down  the  road 
on  such  errands,  he  said,  and  to  look  after  the  sick  and  rest  horses,  of 
which  animals  he  had  much  to  relate  that  occupied  a  long  time  in  the 
telling.  He  aspired  to  the  dignity  of  the  regular  box,  and  expected 
an  appointment  on  the  first  vacancy.  He  was  musical  besides,  and  had 
a  little  key-bugle  in  his  pocket,  on  which,  whenever  the  conversation 
flagged,  he  played  the  first  part  of  a  great  many  tunes,  and  regularly 
broke  down  in  the  second. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Bill,  with  a  sigh,  as  he  drew  the  back  of  his  hand  across 
his  lips,  and  put  this  instrument  in  his  pocket,  after  screwing  off  the 
mouthpiece  to  drain  it ;  "  Lummy  Ned  of  the  Light  Salisbury,  he  was 
the  one  for  musical  talents.  He  icas  a  guard.  What  you  may  call  a 
Guardian  Angel,  was  Ned." 

"  Is  he  dead  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

'•  Dead  ! "  replied  the  other,  with  a  contemptuous  emphasis.  "  Not 
he.  You  won't  catch  Ned  a  dying  easy.  No,  no.  He  knows  better 
than  that." 

"  You  spoke  of  him  in  the  past  tense,"  observed  Martin,  "  so  I  sup- 
posed he  was  no  more." 

"  He's  no  more  in  England,"  said  Bill,  "  if  that's  what  you  mean.  He 
went  to  the  U-nited  States." 

"  Did  he  1 "  asked  Martin,  with  sudden  interest.     '•  When  1 " 

"  Five  year  ago,  or  thenabout,"  said  Bill.     '-'  He  had  set  up  in  the 


MARTIN    CHTJzZLEWIT.  165 

public  line  here,  and  couldn't  meet  his  engagements,  so  he  cut  off  to 
Liverpool  one  day  without  saying  anything  about  it,  and  went  and 
shipped  himself  for  the  U-nited  States." 

"  Well  1 "  said  Martin. 

"  Well  !  as  he  landed  there  without  a  penny  to  bless  himself  -with,  of 
course  they  wos  very  glad  to  see  him  in  the  U-nited  States." 

"  What  do  you  mean  1 "  asked  Martin,  with  some  scorn. 

"  What  do  I  mean  1 "  said  Bill.  "  Why,  tf/at.  All  men  are  alike  in  the 
U-nited  States,  an't  they  ?  It  makes  no  odds  whether  a  man  has  a 
thousand  pounds,  or  nothing,  there — particular  in  New  York,  I'm  told, 
where  Ned  landed." 

"  New  York,  was  it  ?  "  asked  Martin  thoughtfully. 

"  Yes,"  said  Bill.  "  New  York.  I  know  that,  because  he  sent  word 
home  that  it  brought  Old  York  to  his  mind  quite  Avivid  in  consequence 
of  being  so  exactly  unlike  it  in  every  respect.  I  don't  understand  wot 
particular  business  Ned  turned  his  mind  to,  when  he  got  there  ;  but  he 
wrote  home  that  him  and  his  friends  was  always  a  singing,  Ale  Co- 
lumbia, and  blowing  up  the  President,  so  I  suppose  it  was  something  in  the 
public  line,  or  free-and-easy  way,  again.     Any  how,  he  made  his  fortune." 

"  No  !  "  cried  Martin. 

"  Yes  he  did,"  said  Bill.  "  I  know  that,  because  he  lost  it  all  the  day 
after,  in  six-and-twenty  banks  as  broke.  He  settled  a  lot  of  the  notes 
on  his  father,  when  it  v>^as  ascertained  that  they  was  really  stopped,  and 
sent  'em  over  with  a  dutiful  letter.  I  know  that,  because  they  was 
shown  down  our  yard  for  the  old  gentleman's  benefit,  that  he  might 
treat  himself  with  tobacco  in  the  workus." 

"  He  was  a  foolish  fellow  not  to  take  care  of  his  money  when  he  had 
it,"  said  Martin,  indignantly. 

"  There  you're  right,"  said  Bill,  "  especially  as  it  was  all  in  paper,  and 
he  might  have  took  care  of  it  so  very  easy,  by  folding  it  up  in  a  small 
parcel." 

Martin  said  nothing  in  reply,  but  soon  afterwards  fell  asleep,  and 
remained  so  for  an  hour  or  more.  When  he  awoke,  finding  it  had 
ceased  to  rain,  he  took  his  seat  beside  the  driver,  and  asked  him  several 
questions, — as  how  long  had  the  fortunate  guard  of  the  Light  Salisbury 
been  in  crossing  the  Atlantic ;  at  what  time  of  the  year  had  he 
sailed  ;  what  was  the  name  of  the  ship  in  which  he  made  the  voyage  ; 
how  much  had  he  paid  for  passage-money ;  did  he  suffer  greatly  from 
sea-sickness  ?  and  so  forth.  But  on  these  points  of  detail,  his  friend 
was  possessed  of  little  or  no  information;  either  answering  obviously  at 
random,  or  acknowledging  that  he  had  never  heard,  or  had  forgotten ;  nor, 
although  he  returned  to  the  charge  very  often,  could  he  obtain  any  useful 
intelligence  on  these  essential  particulars. 

They  jogged  on  all  day,  and  stopped  so  often — now  to  refresh,  now  to 
change  their  team  of  horses,  now  to  exchange  or  bring  away  a  set  of 
harness,  now  on  one  point  of  business,  and  now  upon  another,  con- 
nected with  the  coachino;  on  that  line  of  road — that  it  was  midnio-ht 
when  they  reached  Hounslow.  A  little  short  of  the  stables  for  which 
the  van  was  bound,  Martin  got  down,  paid  his  crown,  and  forced  his  silk 


166  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

handkerchief  upon  liis  honest  friend,  notwithstanding  the  many  protesta- 
tions that  he  didn't  wish  to  deprive  him  of  it,  with  which  he  tried  to 
give  the  lie  to  his  longing  looks.  That  done,  they  parted  company ; 
and  when  the  van  had  driven  into  its  own  yard,  and  the  gates  were 
closed,  Martin  stood  in  the  dark  street,  with  a  pretty  strong  sense  of 
being  shut  out,  alone,  upon  the  dreary  world,  without  the  key  of  it. 

But  in  this  moment  of  despondency,  and  often  afterwards,  the  recol- 
lection of  Mr.  PecksniiF  operated  as  a  cordial  to  him  ;  awakening  in 
his  breast  an  indignation  that  was  very  wholesome  in  nerving  him  to 
obstinate  endurance.  Under  the  influence  of  this  fiery  dram,  he  started 
off  for  London  without  more  ado  ;  and  arriving  there  in  the  middle  of 
the  night,  and  not  knowing  where  to  find  a  tavern  open,  was  fain  to 
stroll  about  the  streets  and  market-places  until  morning. 

He  found  himself,  about  an  hour  before  dawn,  in  the  humbler  regions 
of  the  Adelphi ;  and  addressing  himself  to  a  man  in  a  fur-cap  who  was 
taking  down  the  shutters  of  an  obscure  public-house,  informed  him  that 
he  was  a  stranger,  and  inquired  if  he  could  have  a  bed  there.  It  hap- 
pened, by  good  luck,  that  he  could.  Though  none  of  the  gaudiest,  it 
was  tolerably  clean,  and  Martin  felt  very  glad  and  grateful  when  he 
crept  into  it,  for  warmth,  rest,  and  forgetfulness. 

It  was  quite  late  in  the  afternoon  when  he  awoke  ;  and  by  the  time 
he  had  washed,  and  dressed,  and  broken  his  fast,  it  was  growing  dusk 
again.  This  was  all  the  better,  for  it  was  now  a  matter  of  absolute 
necessity  that  he  should  part  with  his  watch  to  some  obliging  pawn- 
broker ;  and  he  would  have  waited  until  after  dark  for  this  purpose, 
though  it  had  been  the  longest  day  in  the  year,  and  he  had  begun  it 
without  a  breakfast. 

He  passed  more  Golden  Balls  than  all  the  jugglers  in  Europe  have 
juggled  with,  in  the  course  of  their  united  performances,  before  he  could 
determine  in  favour  of  any  particular  shop  where  those  symbols  were 
displayed.  In  the  end,  he  came  back  to  one  of  the  first  he  had  seen, 
and  entering  by  a  side-door  in  a  court,  where  the  three  balls,  with  the 
legend  "  Money  Lent,"  w^ere  repeated  in  a  ghastly  transparency,  passed 
into  one  of  a  series  of  little  closets,  or  private  boxes,  erected  for  the 
accommodation  of  the  more  bashful  and  uninitiated  customers.  He 
bolted  himself  in ;  pulled  out  his  watch ;  and  laid  it  on  the  counter. 

"Upon  my  life  and  soul !"  said  a  low  voice  in  the  next  box  to  the 
shopman  who  was  in  treaty  with  him,  "  you  must  make  it  more  :  you 
must  make  it  a  trifle  more,  you  must  indeed  !  You  must  dispense  with 
one  half-quarter  of  an  ounce  in  weighing  out  your  pound  of  flesh,  my 
best  of  friends,  and  make  it  two-and-six." 

Martin  drew  back  involuntarily,  for  he  knew  the  voice  at  once. 

"You  're  always  full  of  your  chaff,"  said  the  shopman,  rolling  up  the 
article  (which  looked  like  a  shirt)  quite  as  a  matter  of  course,  and  nibbing 
his  pen  upon  the  counter. 

"  I  shall  never  be  full  of  my  wheat,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  as  long  as  I 
come  here.  Ha,  ha  !  Not  bad  !  Make  it  two-and-six,  my  dear  friend, 
positively  for  this  occasion  only.  Half-a-crown  is  a  delightful  coin — 
Two-and-six  !  Going  at  two-and-six  !   For  the  last  time,  at  two-and-six  I" 


^a/^/n^^/p-iee^  6i^i  (7/^^a^.<^//^z//ceia'/r/^^./;r)//^i^  a^^7^/^//i/f^a/ 're/i2-^€>n . 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  167 

"It'll  never  be  the  last  time  till  it's  quite  worn  out,"  rejoined  the 
shopman.     "  It 's  grown  yellow  in  the  service,  as  it  is." 

"  Its  master  has  grown  yellow  in  the  service,  if  you  mean  that,  my 
friend,"  said  Mr.  Tigg ;  "  in  the  patriotic  service  of  an  ungrateful 
country.     You  are  making  it  two-and-six,  I  think?" 

"  I'm  making  it,"  returned  the  shopman,  "  what  it  always  has  been — 
two  shillings.     Same  name  as  usual,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Still  the  same  name,"  said  Mr.  Tigg ;  "  my  claim  to  the  dormant 
peerage  not  being  yet  established  by  the  House  of  Lords." 

"The  old  address?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Tigg  ;  "'  I  have  removed  my  town  establish- 
ment from  thirty-eight.  May  fair,  to  number  fifteen-hundred-and-forty- 
two.  Park-lane." 

"  Come,  I'm  not  going  to  put  down  that,  you  know,"  said  the  shop- 
man, with  a  grin. 

"  You  may  put  down  what  you  please,  my  friend,"  quoth  Mr.  Tigg. 
^'  The  fact  is  still  the  same.  The  apartments  for  the  under-butler  and 
the  fifth  footman  being  of  a  most  confounded  low  and  vulgar  kind  at 
thirty-eight,  Mayfair,  I  have  been  compelled,  in  my  regard  for  the 
feelings  which  do  them  so  much  honour,  to  take  on  lease,  for  seven, 
fourteen,  or  twenty-one  years,  renewable  at  the  option  of  the  tenant,  the 
elegant  and  commodious  family  mansion,  number  fifteen-hundred-and- 
forty-two.  Park-lane.     Make  it  two-and-six,  and  come  and  see  me  !" 

The  shopman  was  so  highly  entertained  by  this  piece  of  humour,  that 
Mr.  Tigg  himself  could  not  repress  some  little  show  of  exultation.  It 
vented  itself,  in  part,  in  a  desire  to  see  how  the  occupant  of  the  next 
box  received  his  pleasantry  ;  to  ascertain  which,  he  glanced  round  the 
partition,  and  immediately,  by  the  gaslight,  recognised  Martin. 

"  I  wish  I  may  die,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  stretching  out  his  body  so  far  that 
his  head  was  as  much  in  Martin's  little  cell  as  Martin's  own  head  was, 
"  but  this  is  one  of  the  most  tremendous  meetings  in  Ancient  or  Modern 
History  !  How  are  you  ?  What  is  the  news  from  the  agricultural  dis- 
tricts ?  How  are  our  friends  the  P.'s  ?  Ha,  ha  !  David,  pay  particular 
-attention  to  this  gentleman,  immediately,  as  a  friend  of  mine,  I  beg." 

"  Here !  Please  to  give  me  the  most  you  can  for  this,"  said  Martin, 
handing  the  watch  to  the  shopman,  "  I  want  money  sorely." 

"  He  wants  money  sorely  ! "  cried  Mr.  Tigg  with  excessive  sympathy. 
"David,  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  do  your  very  utmost  for  my 
friend,  who  wants  money  sorely.  You  will  deal  with  my  friend  as  if  he 
were  myself.  A  gold  hunting-watch,  David,  engine-turned,  capped  and 
jewelled  in  four  holes,  escape  movement,  horizontal  lever,  and  warranted 
to  perform  correctly,  upon  my  personal  reputation,  who  have  observed 
it  narrowly  for  many  years,  under  the  most  trying  circumstances — " 
here  he  winked  at  Martin,  that  he  might  understand  this  recommenda- 
tion would  have  an  immense  eifect  upon  the  shopman  :  "  what  do  you 
say,  David,  to  my  friend  ?  Be  very  particular  to  deserve  my  custom 
and  recommendation,  Davidf 

"  I  can  lend  you  three  pound  on  this,  if  you  like,"  said  the  shopman 
to  Martin,  confidentially.    "  It 's  very  old-fashioned.  I  couldn't  say  more." 


168  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  And  devilisli  handsome,  too,"  cried  Mr.  Tigg.  "  Two-twelve-six  for 
tlie  watch,  and  seven-and-§ix  for  personal  regard.  I  am  gratified  :  it 
may  be  weakness,  but  I  am.  Three  pound  will  do.  We  take  it.  The 
name  of  my  friend  is  Smivey  :  Chicken  Smivey,  of  Holborn,  twenty-six- 
and-a-half  B  :  lodger."  Here  he  winked  at  Martin  again,  to  apprise 
him  that  all  the  forms  and  ceremonies  prescribed  by  law  were  now 
complied  with,  and  nothing  remained  but  the  receipt  of  the  money. 

In  point  of  fact,  this  proved  to  be  the  case,  for  Martin,  who  had  no 
resource  but  to  take  what  was  offered  him,  signified  his  acquiescence  by 
a  nod  of  his  head,  and  presently  came  out  with  the  cash  in  his  pocket. 
He  was  joined  in  the  entry  by  Mr,  Tigg,  who  warmly  congratulated  him, 
as  he  took  his  arm  and  accompanied  him  into  the  street,  on  the  success- 
ful issue  of  the  negociation. 

"  As  for  my  part  in  the  same,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  don't  mention  it. 
Don't  compliment  me,  for  I  can't  bear  it  !" 

"  I  have  no  such  intention,  I  assure  you,"  retorted  Martin,  releasing 
his  arm,  and  stopping. 

"  You  oblige  me  very  much,"  said  Mr.  Tigg.     "  Thank  you." 

"  Now,  sir,"  observed  Martin,  biting  his  lip,  "  this  is  a  large  town, 
and  we  can  easily  find  different  ways  in  it.  If  you  will  show  me  which 
is  your  way,  I  will  take  another." 

Mr.  Tigg  was  about  to  speak,  but  Martin  interposed  : 

"  I  need  scarcely  tell  you,  after  what  you  have  just  seen,  that  I  have 
nothing  to  bestow  upon  your  friend,  Mr.  Slyme.  And  it  is  quite  as 
unnecessary  for  me  to  tell  you  that  I  don't  desire  the  honour  of  your 
company." 

"  Stop  !"  cried  Mr.  Tigg,  holding  out  his  hand.  "  Hold  !  There  is 
a  most  remarkably  long-headed,  flowing-bearded,  and  patriarchal 
proverb,  which  observes  that  it  is  the  duty  of  a  man  to  be  just  before  he 
is  generous.  Be  just  now,  and  you  can  be  generous  presently.  Do  not 
confuse  me  with  the  man  Slyme.  Do  not  distinguish  the  man  Slyme 
as  a  friend  of  mine,  for  he  is  no  such  thing.  I  have  been  compelled,  sir, 
to  abandon  the  party  whom  you  call  Slyme.  I  have  no  knowledge  of 
the  party  whom  you  call  Slyme.  I  am,  sir,"  said  Mr,  Tigg,  striking 
himself  upon  the  breast,  "  a  premium  tulip,  of  a  very  different  growth 
and  cultivation  from  the  cabbage  Slyme,  sir." 

"  It  matters  very  little  to  me,"  said  Martin  coolly,  "  whether  you  have 
set  up  as  a  vagabond  on  your  own  account,  or  are  still  trading  on  behalf 
of  Mr.  Slyme.  I  wish  to  hold  no  correspondence  with  you.  In  the 
devil's  name,  man,"  said  Martin,  scarcely  able  despite  his  vexation  to 
repress  a  smile,  as  Mr.  Tigg  stood  leaning  his  back  against  the  shutters 
of  a  shop  window,  adjusting  his  hair  with  great  composure,  "will  you 
go  one  way  or  other  ?" 

"  You  will  allow  me  to  remind  you,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tigg,  with  sudden 
dignity,  "  that  you — not  I — that  you — I  say  emphatically,  you — have 
reduced  the  proceedings  of  this  evening  to  a  cold  and  distant  matter  of 
business,  when  I  was  disposed  to  place  them  on  a  friendly  footing.  It 
being  made  a  matter  of  business,  sir,  I  beg  to  say  that  I  expect  a  trifle 
(which   I  shall  bestow  in  Charity)  as  commission  upon  tlie  pecuniary 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  169 

advance,  in  whicli  I  have  rendered  you  my  humble  services.  After  the 
terms  in  which  you  have  addressed  me,  sir,"  concluded  Mr.  Tigg,  "  you 
will  not  insult  me,  if  you  please,  by  offering  more  than  half-a-crown." 

Martin  drew  that  piece  of  money  from  his  pocket,  and  tossed  it  towards 
him.  Mr.  Tigg  caught  it,  looked  at  it  to  assure  himself  of  its  goodness, 
spun  it  in  the  air  after  the  manner  of  a  pieman,  and  buttoned  it  up. 
Finally,  he  raised  his  hat  an  inch  or  two  from  his  head,  with  a  military 
air,  and,  after  pausing  a  moment  with  deep  gravity,  as  to  decide  in 
which  direction  he  should  go,  and  to  what  Earl  or  Marquis  among  his 
friends  he  should  give  the  preference  in  his  next  call,  stuck  his  hands 
in  his  skirt-pockets  and  swaggered  round  the  corner.  Martin  took  the 
directly  opposite  course  ;  and  so,  to  his  great  content,  they  parted 
company. 

It  was  with  a  bitter  sense  of  humiliation  that  he  cursed,  again  and 
again,  the  mischance  of  having  encountered  this  man  in  the  pawnbroker's 
shop.  The  only  comfort  he  had  in  the  recollection  was,  Mr.  Tigg's 
voluntary  avowal  of  a  separation  between  himself  and  Slyme,  that 
would  at  least  prevent  his  circumstances  (so  Martin  argued)  from  being 
known  to  any  member  of  his  family,  the  bare  possibility  of  which  filled 
him  with  shame  and  wounded  pride.  Abstractedly,  there  was  greater 
reason,  perhaps,  for  supposing  any  declaration  of  Mr.  Tigg's  to  be  false, 
than  for  attaching  the  least  credence  to  it ;  but  remembering  the  terms 
on  which  the  intimacy  between  that  gentleman  and  his  bosom  friend  had 
subsisted,  and  the  strong  probability  of  Mr.  Tigg's  having  established  an 
independent  business  of  his  own  on  Mr.  Slyme's  connexion,  it  had  a 
reasonable  appearance  of  probability  :  at  all  events,  Martin  hoped  so  ; 
and  that  went  a  long  way. 

His  first  step,  now  that  he  had  a  supply  of  ready  money  for  his 
present  necessities,  was,  to  retain  his  bed  at  the  public-house  until 
further  notice,  and  to  write  a  formal  note  to  Tom  Pinch  (for  he  knew 
Pecksniff  would  see  it)  requesting  to  have  his  clothes  forwarded  to 
London  by  coach,  with  a  direction  to  be  left  at  the  office  until  called 
for.  These  measures  taken,  he  passed  the  interval  before  the  box 
arrived — three  days — in  making  inquiries  relative  to  American  vessels, 
at  the  offices  of  various  shipping-agents  in  the  city ;  and  in  lingering 
about  the  docks  and  wharves,  with  the  faint  hope  of  stumbling  upon 
some  engagement  for  the  voyage,  as  clerk  or  supercargo,  or  custodian 
of  something  or  somebody,  which  would  enable  him  to  procure  a  free 
passage.  But  finding  soon  that  no  such  means  of  employment  w^ere  likely 
to  present  themselves,  and  dreading  the  consequences  of  delay,  he  drew  up 
a  short  advertisement,  stating  what  he  wanted,  and  inserted  it  in  the 
leading  newspapers.  Pending  the  receipt  of  the  twenty  or  thirty  answers 
which  he  vaguely  expected,  he  reduced  his  wardrobe  to  the  narrowest 
limits  consistent  wdth  decent  respectability,  and  carried  the  overplus 
at  different  times  to  the  pawnbroker's  shop,  for  conversion  into  money. 

And  it  was  strange,  very  strange,  even  to  himself,  to  find,  how  by 
quick  though  almost  imperceptible  degrees  he  lost  his  delicacy  and 
self-respect,  and  gradually  came  to  do  that  as  a  matter  of  course,  with- 
out the  least  compunction,  which  but  a  few  short  days  before  had  galled 


170  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

him  to  tlie  quick.  The  first  time  he  visited  the  pawnbroker's,  he  felt 
on  his  way  there  as  if  every  person  whom  he  passed  suspected  whither 
he  was  going  ;  and  on  his  way  hack  again,  as  if  the  whole  human  tide 
he  stemmed,  knew  well  where  he  had  come  from.  When  did  he  care 
to  think  of  their  discernment  now !  In  his  first  wanderings  up  and 
down  the  weary  streets,  he  counterfeited  the  walk  of  one  who  had  an 
object  in  his  view  ;  but  soon  there  came  upon  him  the  sauntering,  slip- 
shod gait  of  listless  idleness,  and  the  lounging  at  street-corners,  and 
plucking  and  biting  of  stray  bits  of  straw,  and  strolling  up  and  down 
the  same  place,  and  looking  into  the  same  shop-windows,  with  a  miser- 
able indifference,  fifty  times  a  day.  At  first,  he  came  out  from  his 
lodging  with  an  uneasy  sense  of  being  observed — even  by  those  chance 
passers-by,  on  whom  he  had  never  looked  before,  and  hundreds  to  one 
would  never  see  again — issuing  in  the  morning  from  a  public-house ; 
but  now,  in  his  comings-out  and  goings-in  he  did  not  mind  to  lounge 
about  the  door,  or  to  stand  sunning  himself  in  careless  thought  beside 
the  wooden  stem,  studded  from  head  to  heel  with  pegs,  on  which  the 
beer-pots  dangled  like  so  many  boughs  upon  a  pewter  tree.  And  yet 
it  took  but  five  weeks  to  reach  the  lowest  round  of  this  tall  ladder  ! 

Oh,  moralists,  who  treat  of  happiness  and  self-respect,  innate  in 
every  sphere  of  life,  and  shedding  light  on  every  grain  of  dust  in  Grod's 
highway,  so  smooth  below  your  carriage-wheels,  so  rough  beneath  the 
tread  of  naked  feet, — bethink  yourselves  in  looking  on  the  swift  descent 
of  men  who  have  lived  in  their  own  esteem,  that  there  are  scores  of 
thousands  breathing  now,  and  breathing  thick  with  painful  toil,  who 
in  that  high  respect  have  never  lived  at  all,  or  had  a  chance  of  life  ! 
Go  ye,  who  rest  so  placidly  upon  the  sacred  Bard  who  had  been  young, 
and  when  he  strung  his  harp  M^as  old,  and  had  never  seen  the  righteous 
forsaken,  or  his  seed  begging  their  bread  ;  go.  Teachers  of  content 
and  honest  pride,  into  the  mine,  the  mill,  the  forge,  the  squalid  depths 
of  deepest  ignorance,  and  uttermost  abyss  of  man's  neglect,  and  say 
can  any  hopeful  plant  spring  up  in  air  so  foul  that  it  extinguishes  the 
soul's  bright  torch  as  fast  as  it  is  kindled  !  And,  oh  !  ye  Pharisees  of 
the  nineteen  hundredth  year  of  Christian  Knowledge,  who  soundingly 
appeal  to  human  nature,  see  that  it  be  human  first.  Take  heed  it  has 
not  been  transformed,  during  your  slumber  and  the  sleep  of  generations, 
into  the  nature  of  the  Beasts  ! 

rive  weeks  !  Of  all  the  twenty  or  thirty  answers,  not  one  had  come. 
His  money — even  the  additional  stock  he  had  raised  from  the  disposal 
of  his  spare  clothes  (and  that  was  not  much,  for  clothes,  though  dear 
to  buy,  are  cheap  to  pawn) — was  fast  diminishing.  Yet  what  could  he 
do  %  At  times  an  agony  came  over  him  in  which  he  darted  forth  again, 
though  he  was  but  newly  home,  and,  returning  to  some  place  where  he 
had  been  already  twenty  times,  made  some  new  attempt  to  gain  his 
end,  but  always  unsuccessfully.  He  was  years  and  years  too  old  for  a 
cabin-boy,  and  years  upon  years  too  inexperienced  to  be  accepted  as  a 
common  seaman.  His  dress  and  manner,  too,  militated  fatally  against 
any  such  proposal  as  the  latter  ;  and  yet  he  was  reduced  to  making  it ; 
for  even  if  he  could  have  contemplated  the  being  set  down  in  America, 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  171 

totally  without  money,  lie  had  not  enough  left  now  for  a  steerage 
passage  and  the  poorest  provisions  upon  the  voyage. 

It  is  an  illustration  of  a  very  common  tendency  in  the  mind  of  man, 
that  all  this  time  he  never  once  doubted,  one  may  almost  say  the  cer- 
tainty of  doing  great  things  in  the  New  World,  if  he  could  only  get 
there.  In  proportion  as  he  became  more  and  more  dejected  by  his 
present  circumstances,  and  the  means  of  gaining  America  receded  from 
his  grasp,  the  more  he  fretted  himself  with  the  conviction  that  that  was 
the  only  place  in  which  he  could  hope  to  achieve  any  high  end,  and 
worried  his  brain  with  the  thought  that  men  going  there  in  the 
meanwhile  might  anticipate  him  in  the  attainment  of  those  objects 
which  were  dearest  to  his  heart.  He  often  thought  of  John  Westlock, 
and  besides  looking  out  for  him  on  all  occasions,  actually  walked  about 
London  for  three  days  together,  for  the  express  purpose  of  meeting  with 
him.  But,  although  he  failed  in  this  ;  and  although  he  would  not  have 
scrupled  to  borrow  money  of  him  ;  and  although  he  believed  that  John 
would  have  lent  it ;  yet  still  he  could  not  bring  his  mind  to  write  to 
Pinch  and  inquire  where  he  was  to  be  found.  For  although,  as  we 
have  seen,  he  was  fond  of  Tom  after  his  own  fashion,  he  could  not 
endure  the  thought  (feeling  so  superior  to  Tom)  of  making  him  the 
stepping-stone  to  his  fortune,  or  being  anything  to  him  but  a  patron ; 
and  his  pride  so  revolted  from  the  idea,  that  it  restrained  him, 
even  now. 

It  might  have  yielded,  however  ;  and  no  doubt  must  have  yielded 
soon,  but  for  a  very  strange  and  unlooked-for  occurrence. 

The  five  weeks  had  quite  run  out,  and  he  was  in  a  truly  desperate 
plight,  when  one  evening,  having  just  returned  to  his  lodging,  and  being 
in  the  act  of  lighting  his  candle  at  the  gas  jet  in  the  bar  before  stalking 
moodily  up  stairs  to  his  own  room,  his  landlord  called  him  by  his  name. 
Now,  as  he  had  never  told  it  to  the  man,  but  had  scrupulously  kept  it 
to  himself,  he  was  not  a  little  startled  by  this  ;  and  so  plainly  showed 
his  agitation,  that  the  landlord,  to  reassure  him,  said  "  it  was  only  a 
letter." 

"  A  letter  !"  cried  Martin. 

"  For  Mr.  Martin  Chuzzlewit,"  said  the  landlord,  reading  the  super- 
scription of  one  he  held  in  his  hand.     *'Noon.     Chief  Office.     Paid." 

Martin  took  it  from  him,  thanked  him,  and  walked  up  stairs.  It  was 
not  sealed,  but  pasted  close  ;  the  handwriting  was  quite  unknown  to 
him.  He  opened  it,  and  found  enclosed,  without  any  name,  address,  or 
other  inscription  or  explanation  of  any  kind  whatever,  a  Bank  of  England 
note  for  Twenty  Pounds. 

To  say  that  he  was  perfectly  stunned  with  astonishment  and  delight ; 
that  he  looked  again  and  again  at  the  note  and  the  wrapper ;  that  he 
hurried  below  stairs  to  make  quite  certain  that  the  note  was  a  good  note  ; 
and  then  hurried  up  again  to  satisfy  himself  for  the  fiftieth  time  that  he 
had  not  overlooked  some  scrap  of  writing  on  the  wrapper ;  that  he 
exhausted  and  bewildered  himself  with  conjectures  ;  and  could  make 
nothing  of  it  but  that  there  the  note  was,  and  he  was  suddenly  enriched  ; 
"would  be  only  to  relate  so  many  matters  of  course,  to  no  purpose.     The 


172  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

final  upshot  of  the  business  at  that  time  was,  that  he  resolved  to  treat 
himself  to  a  comfortable  but  frugal  meal  in  his  own  chamber  ;  and  having 
ordered  a  fire  to  be  kindled,  went  out  to  purchase  it  forthwith. 

He  bought  some  cold  beef,  and  ham,  and  French  bread,  and  butter, 
and  came  back  with  his  pockets  pretty  heavily  laden.  It  was  somewhat 
of  a  damping  circumstance  to  find  the  room  full  of  smoke,  which  was  attri- 
butable to  two  causes  :  firstly,  to  the  flue  being  naturally  vicious  and  a 
smoker ;  and  secondly,  to  their  having  forgotten,  in  lighting  the  fire,  an 
odd  sack  or  two  and  some  other  trifles,  which  had  been  put  up  the 
chimney  to  keep  the  rain  out.  They  had  already  remedied  this  over- 
sight, however  ;  and  propped  up  the  window-sash  with  a  bundle  of  fire- 
wood to  keep  it  open  ;  so  that,  except  in  being  rather  inflammatory 
to  the  eyes  and  choking  to  the  lungs,  the  apartment  was  quite  com- 
fortable. 

Martin  was  in  no  vein  to  quarrel  with  it,  if  it  had  been  in  less  tolerable 
order,  especially  when  a  gleaming  pint  of  porter  was  set  upon  the  table, 
and  the  servant-girl  withdrew,  bearing  with  her  particular  instructions 
relative  to  the  production  of  something  hot,  when  he  should  ring  the 
bell.  The  cold  meat  being  wrapped  in  a  play-bill,  Martin  laid  the  cloth 
by  spreading  that  document  on  the  little  round  table  with  the  print 
downwards  ;  and  arranging  the  collation  upon  it.  The  foot  of  the  bed, 
which  was  very  close  to  the  fire,  answered  for  a  sideboard  ;  and  when  he 
had  completed  these  preparations,  he  squeezed  an  old  arm-chair  into  the 
warmest  corner,  and  sat  down  to  enjoy  himself 

He  had  begun  to  eat  with  a  great  appetite,  glancing  round  the  room 
meanwhile  with  a  triumphant  anticipation  of  quitting  it  for  ever  on  the 
morrow,  when  his  attention  was  arrested  by  a  stealthy  footstep  on  the 
stairs,  and  presently  by  a  knock  at  his  chamber  door,  which  although  it 
was  a  gentle  knock  enough,  communicated  such  a  start  to  the  bundle  of 
firewood  that  it  instantly  leaped  out  of  window,  and  plunged  into  the 
street. 

"  More  coals,  I  suppose,"  said  Martin.     "  Come  in  ! " 

"  It  an't  a  liberty,  sir,  though  it  seems  so,"  rejoined  a  man's  voice. 
"  Your  servant,  sir.     Hope  you  're  pretty  well,  sir." 

Martin  stared  at  the  face  that  was  bowing  in  the  doorway  :  perfectly 
remembering  the  features  and  expression,  but  quite  forgetting  to  whom 
they  belonged. 

"  Tapley,  sir,"  said  his  visitor.  "  Him  as  formerly  lived  at  the  Dragon, 
sir,  and  was  forced  to  leave  in  consequence  of  a  want  of  jollity,  sir." 

"  To  be  sure  !"  cried  Martin.      "  Why,  how  did  you  come  here  ?" 

"  Right  through  the  passage  and  up  the  stairs,  sir,"  said  Mark. 

"  How  did  you  find  me  out,  I  mean  V  asked  Martin. 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  I  've  passed  you  once  or  twice  in  the  street 
if  I  'm  not  mistaken  ;  and  when  I  was  a  looking  in  at  the  beef-and-ham 
shop  just  now,  along  with  a  hungry  sweep,  as  was  very  much  calculated 
to  make  a  man  jolly,  sir — I  see  you  a  buying  that." 

Martin  reddened  as  he  pointed  to  the  table,  and  said,  somewhat 
hastily  : 

"Well!  what  then?" 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  173 

"  Why  then,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  I  made  bold  to  foller ;  and  as  I  told 
'em  down  stairs  that  you  expected  me,  I  was  let  up." 

"  Are  you  charged  with  any  message,  that  you  told  them  you  were 
expected?"  inquired  Martin. 

"  No,  sir,  I  a'nt,"  said  Mark.  "  That  was  what  you  may  call  a  pious 
fraud,  sir,  that  was." 

Martin  cast  an  angry  look  at  him  :  but  there  was  something  in  the 
fellow's  merry  face,  and  in  his  manner — which  with  all  its  cheerfulness 
was  far  from  being  obtrusive  or  familiar — that  quite  disarmed  him.  He 
had  lived  a  solitary  life  too,  for  many  weeks,  and  the  voice  was  pleasant 
in  his  ear. 

"  Tapley,"  he  said,  "  I  '11  deal  openly  with  you.  From  all  I  can 
judge,  and  from  all  I  have  heard  of  you  through  Pinch,  you  are  not  a 
likely  kind  of  fellow  to  have  been  brought  here  by  impertinent  curiosity 
or  any  other  offensive  motive.     Sit  down.     I  'm  glad  to  see  you." 

"  Thankee,  sir,"  said  Mark.     "  I  'd  as  lieve  stand." 

"If  you  don't  sit  down,"  retorted  Martin,  "I'll  not  talk  to  you." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  observed  Mark.  "  Your  will 's  a  law,  sir.  Down 
it  is  ;"  and  he  sat  down  accordingly,  upon  the  bedstead. 

"  Help  yourself,"  said  Martin,  handing  him  the  only  knife. 

'•  Thankee,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark.     "  After  you've  done." 

"  If  you  don't  take  it  now,  you  '11  not  have  any,"  said  Martin. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark.  '•  That  being  your  desire — now  it 
is."  With  which  reply  he  gravely  helped  himself,  and  went  on  eating, 
Martin  having  done  the  like  for  a  short  time  in  silence,  said  abruptly  : 

"  What  are  you  doing  in  London  ?" 

"  Nothing  at  all,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark. 

"  How  's  that  ?"  asked  Martin. 

"  I  want  a  place,"  said  Mark. 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,"  said  Martin. 

"  — To  attend  upon  a  single  gentleman,"  resumed  Mark.  "  If  from 
the  country,  the  more  desirable.  Make-shifts  would  be  preferred. 
Wages  no  object." 

He  said  this  so  pointedly,  that  Martin  stopped  in  his  eating,  and  said  : 

"  If  you  mean  me — " 

"  Yes,  I  do,  sir,"  interposed  Mark. 

"  Then  you  may  judge  from  my  style  of  living  here,  of  my  means 
of  keeping  a  man-servant.  Besides,  I  am  going  to  America  imme- 
diately." 

"  Well,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  quite  unmoved  by  this  intelligence, 
"  from  all  that  ever  I  heard  about  it,  I  should  say  America 's  a  very 
likely  sort  of  place  for  me  to  be  jolly  in  !" 

Again  Martin  looked  at  him  angrily ;  and  again  his  anger  melted 
away  in  spite  of  himself 

"  Lord  bless  you,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  what  is  the  use  of  us  a  going 
round  and  round,  and  hiding  behind  the  corner,  and  dodging  up  and 
down,  when  we  can  come  straight  to  the  point  in  six  words  !  I  've  had 
my  eye  upon  you  any  time  this  fortnight.  I  see  well  enough  that 
there  's  a  screw  loose  in  your  affairs.     I  know'd  well  enough  the  first 


174  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

time  I  see  you  dowTi  at  the  Dragon  that  it  must  be  so,  sooner  or  later. 
Now,  sir,  here  am  I,  without  a  sitiwation  ;  without  any  want  of  wages 
for  a  year  to  come  ;  for  I  saved  up  (I  didn't  mean  to  do  it,  but  I  couldn't 
help  it)  at  the  Dragon — here  am  I  with  a  liking  for  what 's  wentersome, 
and  a  liking  for  you,  and  a  wish  to  come  out  strong  under  circumstances 
as  would  keep  other  men  down  :  and  will  you  take  me,  or  will  you 
leave  me  ] " 

"  How  can  I  take  you  1 "  cried  Martin. 

"  When  I  say  take,"  rejoined  Mark,  "  I  mean  will  you  let  me  go  ? 
and  when  I  say  will  you  let  me  go,  I  mean  will  you  let  me  go  along  with 
you  1  for  go  I  will,  somehow  or  another.  Now  that  you've  said  America, 
I  see  clear  at  once,  that  that's  the  place  for  me  to  be  jolly  in.  There- 
fore, if  I  don't  pay  my  own  passage  in  the  ship  you  go  in,  sir,  I'll  pay 
my  own  passage  in  another.  And  mark  my  words,  if  I  go  alone  it  shall 
be,  to  carry  out  the  principle,  in  the  rottenest,  craziest,  leakingest 
tub  of  a  wessel  that  a  place  can  be  got  in  for  love  or  money.  So  if  I  'm 
lost  upon  the  way,  sir,  there'll  be  a  drowned  man  at  your  door — and 
always  a  knocking  double  knocks  at  it,  too,  or  never  trust  me  ! " 

"  This  is  mere  folly,"  said  Martin. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  I'm  glad  to  hear  it,  because  if 
you  don't  mean  to  let  me  go,  you'll  be  more  comfortable,  perhaps,  on 
account  of  thinking  so.  Therefore  I  contradict  no  gentleman.  But  all 
I  say  is,  that  if  I  don't  emigrate  to  America  in  that  case,  in  the  beast- 
liest, old  cockleshell  as  goes  out  of  port,  I'm " 

"  You  don't  mean  what  you  say,  I'm  sure  1"  said  Martin. 

"  Yes  I  do,"  cried  Mark. 

"  I  tell  you  I  know  better,"  rejoined  Martin. 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  Mark,  with  the  same  air  of  perfect  satisfaction. 
"  Let  it  stand  that  way  at  present,  sir,  and  wait  and  see  how  it  turns 
out.  Why,  love  my  heart  alive  !  the  only  doubt  I  have  is,  whether 
there's  any  credit  in  going  with  a  gentleman  like  you,  that's  as  certain 
to  make  his  vray  there  as  a  gimblet  is  to  go  through  soft  deal." 

This  was  touching  Martin  on  his  weak  point,  and  having  him  at  a 
great  advantage.  He  could  not  help  thinking,  either,  what  a  brisk  fellow 
this  Mark  was,  and  how  great  a  change  he  had  wrought  in  the  atmosphere 
of  the  dismal  little  room  already. 

"  Why,  certainly,  Mark,"  he  said,  "  I  have  hopes  of  doing  well  there, 
or  I  shouldn't  go.     I  may  have  the  qualifications  for  doing  well,  perhaps." 

"  Of  course  you  have,  sir,"  returned  Mark  Tapley.  "  Everybody 
knows  that." 

"  You  see,"  said  Martin,  leaning  his  chin  upon  his  hand,  and  looking 
at  the  fire,  "  ornamental  architecture  applied  to  domestic  purposes,  can 
hardly  fail  to  be  in  great  request  in  that  country  ;  for  men  are  constantly 
changing  their  residences  there,  and  moving  further  off;  and  it's  clear 
they  must  have  houses  to  live  in.", 

"  I  should  say,  sir,"  observed  Mark,  "  that  that's  a  state  of  things  as 
opens  one  of  the  j  oiliest  look-outs  for  domestic  architecture  that  ever  I 
heerd  tell  on." 

Martin  glanced  at  him  hastily,  not  feeling  quite  free  from  a  suspicion 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  175 

that  this  remark  implied  a  doubt  of  the  successful  issue  of  his  plans. 
But  Mr.  Tapley  was  eating  the  boiled  beef  and  bread  with  such  entire 
good  faith  and  singleness  of  purpose  expressed  in  his  visage,  that  he 
could  not  but  be  satisfied.  Another  doubt  arose  in  his  mind,  however, 
as  this  one  disappeared.  He  produced  the  blank  cover  in  which  the 
note  had  been  enclosed,  and  fixing  his  eyes  on  Mark  as  he  put  it  in  his 
hands,  said, 

"  Now  tell  me  the  truth.     Do  you  know  anything  about  that  1 " 

Mark  turned  it  over  and  over  ;  held  it  near  his  eyes  ;  held  it  away 
from  him  at  arm's  length  ;  held  it  with  the  superscription  upwards,  and 
with  the  superscription  downwards ;  and  shook  his  head  with  such  a 
genuine  expression  of  astonishment  at  being  asked  the  question,  that 
Martin  said,  as  he  took  it  from  him  again  : 

"  No,  I  see  you  don't.  How  should  you  !  Though,  indeed,  your 
knowing  about  it  would  not  be  more  extraordinary  than  its  being  here. 
Come,  Tapley,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  thought,  "  I'll  trust  you  with 
my  history,  such  as  it  is,  and  then  you'll  see,  more  clearly,  what  sort 
of  fortunes  you  would  link  yourself  to,  if  you  followed  me." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Mark  ;  "  but  afore  you  enter  upon  it, 
will  you  take  me  if  I  choose  to  go  1  Will  you  turn  ofi"  me — Mark 
Tapley — formerly  of  the  Blue  Dragon,  as  can  be  well  recommended  by 
Mr.  Pinch,  and  as  wants  a  gentleman  of  your  strength  of  mii\d  to  look 
up  to  ;  or  will  you,  in  climbing  the  ladder  as  you're  certain  to  get  to 
the  top  of,  take  me  along  with  you  at  a  respectful  distance  1  Now,  sir," 
said  Mark,  "  it's  of  very  little  importance  to  you,  I  know — there's  the 
difficulty  ;  but  it's  of  very  great  importance  to  me  ;  and  will  you  be  so 
good  as  to  consider  of  it  ?" 

If  this  were  meant  as  a  second  appeal  to  Martin's  weak  side,  founded 
on  his  observation  of  the  effect  of  the  first,  Mr.  Tapley  was  a  skilful  and 
shrewd  observer.  Whether  an  intentional  or  an  accidental  shot,  it  hit 
the  mark  full  ;  for  Martin,  relenting  more  and  more,  said,  with  a  con- 
descension which  was  inexpressibly  delicious  to  him,  after  his  recent 
humiliation  : 

"  We'll  see  about  it,  Tapley.  You  shall  tell  me  in  what  disposition 
you  find  yourself  to-morrow." 

"  Then,  sir,"  said  Mark,  rubbing  his  hands,  "  the  job's  done.  Go  on, 
sir,  if  you  please.     I'm  all  attention." 

Throwing  himself  back  in  his  arm-chair,  and  looking  at  the  fire,  with 
now  and  then  a  glance  at  Mark,  who  at  such  times  nodded  his  head 
sagely,  to  express  his  profound  interest  and  attention  ;  Martin  ran  over 
the  chief  points  in  his  history,  to  the  same  effect  as  he  had  related  them, 
weeks  before,  to  Mr.  Pinch.  But  he  adapted  them,  according  to  the  best 
of  his  judgment,  to  Mr.  Tapley's  comprehension  ;  and  with  that  view 
made  as  light  of  his  love  affair  as  he  could,  and  referred  to  it  in  very 
few  words.  But  here  h^  reckoned  without  his  host ;  for  Mark's  interest 
was  keenest  in  this  part  of  the  business,  and  prompted  him  to  ask  sundry 
questions  in  relation  to  it ;  for  which  he  apologised  as  one  in  some 
measure  privileged  to  do  so,  from  having  seen  (as  Martin  explained  to 
him)  the  young  lady  at  the  Blue  Dragon. 


176  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  And  a  young  lady  as  any  gentleman  ought  to  feel  more  proud  of 
being  in  love  with,"  said  Mark,  energetically,  "  don't  draw  breath." 

"  Aye  !  You  saw  her  when  she  was  not  happy,"  said  Martin,  gazing 
at  the  fire  again.     "  If  you  had  seen  her  in  the  old  times,  indeed — " 

"Why,  she  certainly  was  a  little  down-hearted,  sir,  and  something 
paler  in  her  colour  than  I  could  have  wished,"  said  Mark,  "  but  none 
the  worse  in  her  looks  for  that.  I  think  she  seemed  better,  sir,  after 
she  come  to  London." 

Martin  withdrew  his  eyes  from  the  fire ;  stared  at  Mark  as  if  he 
thought  he  had  suddenly  gone  mad  ;  and  asked  him  what  he  meant. 

"  No  offence  intended,  sir,"  urged  Mark.  "  I  don't  mean  to  say  she  was 
any  the  happier,  without  you ;  but  I  thought  she  M'as  a  looking  better,  sir." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  she  has  been  in  London?"  asked  Martin, 
rising  hurriedly,  and  pushing  back  his  chair. 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Mark,  rising  too,  in  great  amazement,  from 
the  bedstead. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  she 's  in  London  now  1 " 

"  Most  likely,  sir.     I  mean  to  say  she  was,  a  week  ago." 

"  And  you  know  where  ?" 

"  Yes  !"  cried  Mark.     "  What !    Don't  you  ?" 

"  My  good  fellow  !"  exclaimed  Martin,  clutching  him  by  both  arms, 
"  I  have  never  seen  her  since  I  left  my  grandfather's  house." 

"Why  then  1"  cried  Mark,  giving  the  little  table  such  a  blow  with 
his  clenched  fist  that  the  slices  of  beef  and  ham  danced  upon  it,  while 
all  his  features  seemed,  with  delight,  to  be  going  up  into  his  forehead, 
and  never  coming  back  again  any  more,  "  if  I  an't  your  nat'ral  born 
servant,  hired  by  Fate,  there  an't  such  a  thing  in  natur'  as  a  Blue 
Dragon.  What !  when  I  was  a  rambling  up  and  down  a  old  church- 
yard in  the  city,  getting  myself  into  a  jolly  state,  didn't  I  see  your 
grandfather  a  toddling  to  and  fro  for  pretty  nigh  a  mortal  hour  !  Didn't 
I  watch  him  into  Codgers's  commercial  boarding-house,  and  watch  him 
out,  and  watch  him  home  to  his  hotel,  and  go  and  tell  him  as  his  was  the 
service  for  my  money,  and  I  had  said  so,  afore  I  left  the  Dragon  ! 
Wasn't  the  young  lady  a  sitting  with  him  then,  and  didn't  she  fall  a 
laughing  in  a  manner  as  was  beautiful  to  see  !  Didn't  your  grandfather 
say,  '  Come  back  again  next  week  ; '  and  didn't  I  go  next  week  ;  and 
didn't  he  say  that  he  couldn't  make  up  his  mind  to  trust  nobody  no 
more,  and  therefore  wouldn't  engage  me ;  but  at  the  same  time  stood 
something  to  drink  as  was  handsome  !  Why,"  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  with 
a  comical  mixture  of  delight  and  chagrin,  "  where 's  the  credit  of  a 
man's  being  jolly  under  such  circumstances  !  who  could  help  it,  when 
things  come  about  like  this  !" 

For  some  moments,  Martin  stood  gazing  at  him,  as  if  he  really 
doubted  the  evidence  of  his  senses,  and  co^d  not  believe  that  Mark 
stood  there,  in  the  body,  before  him.  At  length  he  asked  him  whether, 
if  the  young  lady  were  still  in  London,  he  thought  he  could  contrive  to 
deliver  a  letter  to  her  secretly. 

"  Do  I  think  I  can  !"  cried  Mark.  "  T/iink  I  can  !  Here,  sit  down, 
sir.     Write  it  out,  sir  1" 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  177 

With  tliat  he  cleared  the  table  by  the  summary  process  of  tilting 
everything  upon  it  into  the  fire-place  ;  snatched  some  writing  materials 
from  the  mantel-shelf ;  set  Martin's  chair  before  them  ;  forced  him 
down  into  it ;  dipped  a  pen  into  the  ink  ;  and  put  it  in  his  hand. 

"  Cut  away,  sir  ! "  cried  Mark.  "  Make  it  strong,  sir.  Let  it  be  wery 
pointed,  sir.     Do  I  think  so  '?    /  should  think  so.     Go  to  work,  sir  ! " 

Martin  required  no  further  adjuration,  but  went  to  work  at  a  great 
rate  ;  while  Mr.  Tapley,  installing  himself  without  any  more  formalities 
into  the  functions  of  his  valet  and  general  attendant,  divested  himself 
of  his  coat,  and  went  on  to  clear  the  fireplace  and  arrange  the  room  : 
talking  to  himself  in  a  low  voice  the  whole  time. 

"  Jolly  sort  of  lodgings,"  said  Mark,  rubbing  his  nose  with  the  knob 
at  the  end  of  the  fire-shovel,  and  looking  round  the  poor  chamber  : 
"  that's  a  comfort.  The  rain 's  come  through  the  roof  too.  That  an't 
bad.  A  lively  old  bedstead,  I'll  be  bound  ;  popilated  by  lots  of  wam- 
pires,  no  doubt.  Come  !  my  spirits  is  a  getting  up  again.  An  un- 
common ragged  nightcap  this.  A  very  good  sign.  We  shall  do  yet  ! 
Here  Jane,  my  dear,"  calling  down  the  stairs,  "  bring  up  that  there 
hot  tumbler  for  my  master,  as  was  a  mixing  when  I  come  in.  That's 
right,  sir,"  to  Martin.  "  Go  at  it  as  if  you  meant  it,  sir.  Be  very  tender, 
sir,  if  you  please.     You  can't  make  it  too  strong,  sir  !" 


CHAPTEH   XIY. 

IN  WHICH  MAllTIN  BIDS  ADIEU  TO  THE  LADY  OF  HIS  LOVE  ;  AND  HONOSS 
AN  OBSCURE  INDIVIDUAL  WHOSE  FORTUNE  HE  INTENDS  TO  3IAKE,  EY 
COMMENDING  HER  TO  IIIS  PROTECTION. 

The  letter  being  duly  signed,  sealed,  and  delivered,  was  handed  to 
Mark  Tapley,  for  immediate  conveyance  if  possible.  And  he  succeeded 
so  well  in  his  embassy  as  to  be  enabled  to  return  that  same  night,  just 
as  the  house  was  closing  :  with  the  welcome  intelligence  that  he  had 
sent  it  up  stairs  to  the  young  lady,  enclosed  in  a  small  manuscript  of 
his  own,  purporting  to  contain  his  further  petition  to  be  engaged  in  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit's  service  ;  and  that  she  had  herself  come  down  and  told  him, 
in  great  haste  and  agitation,  that  she  would  meet  the  gentleman  at 
eight  o'clock  to-morrow  morning  in  St.  James's  Park.  It  was  then 
agreed  between  the  new  master  and  the  new  man,  that  Mark  should  be 
in  waiting  near  the  hotel  in  good  time,  to  escort  the  young  lady  to  the 
place  of  appointment ;  and  when  they  had  parted  for  the  night  with 
this  understanding,  Martin  took  up  his  pen  again ;  and  before  he  went 
to  bed  wrote  another  letter,  whereof  more  will  be  seen  presently.  ^ 

He  was  up  before  day -break,  and  came  upon  the  Park  with  the 
morning,  which  was  clad  in  the  least  engaging  of  the  three  hundred  and 
sixty-five  dresses  in  the  wardrobe  of  the  year.  It  was  raw,  damp, 
dark,  and  dismal ;  the  clouds  were  as  muddy  as  the  ground  j  and  the 


178  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

short  perspective  of  every  street  and  avenue,  was  closed  up  by  the  mist 
as  by  a  filthy  curtain. 

"  Fine  weather  indeed,"  Martin  bitterly  soliloquized,  "  to  be  wan- 
dering up  and  down  here  in,  like  a  thief !  Fine  weather  indeed,  for  a 
meeting  of  lovers  in  the  open  air,  and  in  a  public  walk  !  I  need  be 
departing,  with  all  speed,  for  another  country  ;  for  I  have  come  to  a 
pretty  pass  in  this  1 " 

He  might  perhaps  have  gone  on  to  reflect  that  of  all  mornings  in 
the  year,  it  was  not  the  best  calculated  for  a  young  lady's  coming  forth 
on  such  an  errand,  either.  But  he  was  stopped  on  the  road  to  this  re- 
flection, if  his  thoughts  tended  that  way,  by  her  appearance  at  a  short 
distance,  on  which  he  hurried  forward  to  meet  her.  Her  squire,  Mr. 
Tapley,  at  the  same  time  fell  discreetly  back,  and  surveyed  the  fog 
above  him  with  an  appearance  of  attentive  interest. 

"  My  dear  Martin  !"  said  Mary. 

"  My  dear  Mary,"  said  Martin  ;  and  lovers  are  such  a  singular  kind 
of  people  that  this  is  all  they  did  say  just  then,  though  Martin  took  her 
arm,  and  her  hand  too,  and  they  paced  up  and  down  a  short  walk  that 
was  least  exposed  to  observation,  half-a-dozen  times. 

*'  If  you  have  changed  at  all,  my  love,  since  we  parted,"  said  Martin 
at  length,  as  he  looked  upon  her  with  a  proud  delight,  "  it  is  only  to  be 
more  beautiful  than  ever  1" 

Had  she  been  of  the  common  metal  of  love-worn  young  ladies,  she 
would  have  denied  this  in  her  most  interesting  manner ;  and  would 
have  told  him  that  she  knew  she  had  become  a  perfect  fright ;  or  that 
she  had  wasted  away  with  weeping  and  anxiety ;  or  that  she  was 
■dwindling  gently  into  an  early  grave;  or  that  her  mental  sufferings 
were  unspeakable  ;  or  would  either  by  tears  or  words,  or  a  mixture  of 
both,  have  furnished  him  with  some  other  information  to  that  effect, 
and  made  him  as  miserable  as  possible.  But  she  had  been  reared  up  in 
a  sterner  school  than  the  minds  of  most  young  girls  are  formed  in  ;  she 
had  had  her  nature  strengthened  by  the  hands  of  hard  endurance  and 
necessity;  had  come  out  from  her  young  trials  constant,  self-denying, 
earnest,  and  devoted ;  had  acquired  in  her  maidenhood — whether  hap- 
pily in  the  end,  for  herself  or  him,  is  foreign  to  our  present  purpose  to 
inquire — something  of  that  nobler  quality  of  gentle  hearts  which  is 
developed  often  by  the  sorrows  and  struggles  of  matronly  years,  but 
often  by  their  lessons  only.  Unspoiled,  unpampered  in  her  joys  or 
griefs ;  with  frank,  and  full,  and  deep  affection  for  the  object  of  her 
early  love ;  she  saw  in  him  one  who  for  her  sake  was  an  outcast  from  his 
home  and  fortune,  and  she  had  no  more  idea  of  bestowing  that  love 
upon  him  in  other  than  cheerful  and  sustaining  words,  full  of  high  hope 
and  grateful  trustfulness,  than  she  had  of  being  unworthy  of  it,  in 
her  lightest  thought  or  deed,  for  any  base  temptation  that  the  world 
could  offer. 

"  What  change  is  there  in  you,  Martin,"  she  replied ;  "  for  that 
concerns  me  nearest  1  You  look  more  anxious  and  more  thoughtful 
than  you  used." 

"  Why  as  to  that,  my  love,"  said  Martin,  as  he  drew  her  waist  within 


/  .y 


9-  /cW.y-^-      )/     . 


MARTIN    CHFZZLEWIT.  l79 

liis  arm,  first  looking  round  to  see  that  there  were  no  observers  near,  and 
beholding  Mr.  Taplej  more  intent  than  ever  on  the  fog  ;  "  it  would  be 
strange  if  I  did  not ;  for  my  life — especially  of  late — has  been  a  hard  one.'* 

"  I  know  it  must  have  been,"  she  answered.  "  When  have  I  forgotten 
'to  think  of  it  and  you  ?" 

"  Not  often,  I  hope,"  said  Martin.  "  Not  often,  I  am  sure.  Not 
■often,  I  have  some  right  to  expect,  Mary  ;  for  I  have  undergone  a  great 
deal  of  vexation  and  privation,  and  I  naturally  look  for  that  return, 
you  know." 

"  A  very,  very  poor  return,"  she  answered  with  a  fainter  smile.  "  But 
you  have  it,  and  will  have  it  always.  You  have  paid  a  dear  price  for  a 
poor  heart,  Martin  ;  but  it  is  at  least  your  own,  and  a  true  one." 

"  Of  course  I  feel  quite  certain  of  that,"  said  Martin,  '•  or  I  shouldn't 
have  put  myself  in  my  present  position.  And  don't  say  a  poor  heart, 
Mary,  for  I  say  a  rich  one.  Now,  I  am  about  to  break  a  design  to  you, 
-dearest,  which  will  startle  you  at  first,  but  which  is  undertaken  for  your 
sake.  I  am  going,"  he  added  slowly,  looking  far  into  the  deep  wonder 
of  her  bright  dark  eyes,  "  abroad." 

"Abroad,  Martin!" 

"  Only  to  America.     See  now — how  you  droop  directly  !" 

"  If  I  do,  or,  I  hope  I  may  say,  if  I  did,"  she  answered,  raising  her 
liead  after  a  short  silence,  and  looking  once  more  into  his  face,  "  it  was 
for  grief  to  think  of  what  you  are  resolved  to  undergo  for  me.  I  would 
not  venture  to  dissuade  you,  Martin ;  but  it  is  a  long,  long  distance  ; 
there  is  a  wide  ocean  to  be  crossed  ;  illness  and  want  are  sad  calamities 
in  any  place,  but  in  a  foreign  country  dreadful  to  endure.  Have  you 
thought  of  all  this  r' 

"  Thought  of  it  1"  cried  Martin,  abating,  in  his  fondness — and  he  was 
very  fond  of  her — hardly  an  iota  of  his  usual  impetuosity.  "  What  am 
I  to  do  1  It 's  very  well  to  say.  Have  I  thought  of  it  %  my  love  ;  but 
you  should  ask  me  in  the  same  breath,  have  I  thought  of  starving  at 
home  ;  have  I  thought  of  doing  porter  s  work  for  a  living  ;  have  I 
thought  of  holding  horses  in  the  streets  to  earn  my  roll  of  bread  from 
day  to  day  ?  Come,  come,"  he  added,  in  a  gentler  tone,  "  do  not  hang- 
down  your  head,  my  dear,  for  I  need  the  encouragement  that  your  sweet 
face  alone  can  give  me.    Why,  that 's  well  !    Now  you  are  brave  again." 

"  I  am  endeavouring  to  be,"  she  answered,  smiling  through  her  tears. 

"  Endeavouring  to  be  anything  that 's  good,  and  being  it,  is,  with  you, 
all  one.  Don't  I  know  that  of  old?"  cried  Martin,  gaily.  "So! 
That 's  famous  !  Now  I  can  tell  you  all  my  plans  as  cheerfully  as  if  you 
were  my  little  wife  already,  Mary." 

She  hung  more  closely  on  his  arm,  and  looking  upward  in  his  face, 
b)ade  him  speak  on. 

"  You  see,"  said  ^lartin,  playing  with  the  little  hand  upon  his  wrist, 
*'  that  my  attempts  to  advance  myself  at  home  have  been  bafiled  and 
rendered  abortive.  I  will  not  say  by  whom,  Mary,  for  that  would  give 
pain  to  us  both.  But  so  it  is.  Have  you  heard  him  speak  of  late  of 
any  relative  of  mine  or  his,  called  Pecksniff  ?  Only  tell  me  what  I  ask 
you,  no  more." 

n2 


180  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES   OF 

"  I  have  heard,  to  my  surprise,  that  he  is  a  better  man  than  was 
supposed." 

"  I  thought  so,"  interrupted  Martin. 

"  And  that  it  is  likely  we  may  come  to  know  him,  if  not  to  visit  and 
reside  with  him  and — I  think — his  daughters.  He  has  daughters,  has 
he,  love?" 

"  A  pair  of  them,"  Martin  answered.  "  A  precious  pair  !  Gems  of 
the  first  water  ! " 

"  Ah  !     You  are  jesting  !" 

"  There  is  a  sort  of  jesting  which  is  very  much  in  earnest,  and  includes 
some  pretty  serious  disgust,"  said  Martin.  "  I  jest  in  reference  to  Mr. 
Pecksniff  (at  whose  house  I  have  been  living  as  his  assistant,  and  at 
whose  hands  I  have  received  insult  and  injury),  in  that  vein.  Whatever 
betides,  or  however  closely  you  may  be  brought  into  communication  with 
his  family,  never  forget  that,  Mary  ;  and  never  for  an  instant,  whatever 
appearances  may  seem  to  contradict  me,  lose  sight  of  this  assurance — 
Pecksniff  is  a  scoundrel." 

"Indeed!" 

"  In  thought,  and  in  deed,  and  in  everything  else.  A  scoundrel  from 
the  topmost  hair  of  his  head,  to  the  nethermost  atom  of  his  heel.  Of 
his  daughters  I  will  only  say  that,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge  and 
belief,  they  are  dutiful  young  ladies,  and  take  after  their  father,  closely. 
This  is  a  digression  from  the  main  point,  and  yet  it  brings  me  to  what 
I  was  going  to  say." 

He  stopped  to  look  into  her  eyes  again,  and  seeing,  in  a  hasty  glance 
over  his  shoulder,  that  there  was  no  one  near,  and  that  Mark  was  still 
intent  upon  the  fog,  not  only  looked  at  her  lips  too,  but  kissed  them  into 
the  bargain. 

"  Now,  I  am  going  to  America,  with  great  prospects  of  doing  well,  and 
of  returning  home  myself  very  soon  ;  it  may  be  to  take  you  there  for  a 
few  years,  but,  at  all  events,  to  claim  you  for  my  wife  ;  which,  after 
such  trials,  I  should  do  with  no  fear  of  your  still  thinking  it  a  duty  to 
cleave  to  him  who  will  not  suffer  me  to  live  (for  this  is  true),  if  he  can 
help  it,  in  my  own  land.  How  long  I  may  be  absent  is,  of  course, 
uncertain  ;  but  it  shall  not  be  very  long.     Trust  me  for  that." 

"  In  the  meantime,  dear  Martin " 

"  That 's  the  very  thing  I  am  coming  to.  In  the  meantime  you  shall 
hear,  constantly,  of  all  my  goings-on.     Thus." 

He  paused  to  take  from  his  pocket  the  letter  he  had  written  over- 
night, and  then  resumed  : 

"  In  this  fellow's  employment,  and  living  in  this  fellow's  house,  (by 
fellow,  I  mean  Mr.  Pecksniff,  of  course),  there  is  a  certain  person  of  the 
name  of  Pinch — don't  forget  it ;  a  poor,  strange,  simple  oddity,  Mary  ; 
but  thoroughly  honest  and  sincere  ;  full  of  zeal ;  and  with  a  cordial 
regard  for  me ;  which  I  mean  to  return  one  of  these  days,  by  setting 
him  up  in  life  in  some  way  or  other." 

"  Your  old  kind  nature,  Martin  1" 

"  Oh  !"  said  Martin,  "  that 's  not  worth  speaking  of,  my  love.,,  He  's 
very  grateful  and  desirous  to  serve  me  ;  and  I  am  more  than  repaid.  Now 


■^•'  MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  181 

one  night  I  told  this  Pinch  my  history,  and  all  about  myself  and  you  ; 
in  which  he  was  not  a  little  interested,  I  can  tell  you,  for  he  knows  you  ! 
Aye,  you  may  look  surprised — and  the  longer  the  better,  for  it  becomes 
you — but  you  have  heard  him  play  the  organ  in  the  church  of  that 
village  before  now ;  and  he  has  seen  you  listening  to  his  music ;  and  has 
caught  his  inspiration  from  you,  too  !" 

"  Was  he  the  organist  1 "  cried  Mary.    "  I  thank  him  from  my  heart." 

"  Yes  he  was,"  said  Martin,  "  and  is,  and  gets  nothing  for  it  either. 
There  never  was  such  a  simple  fellow  !  Quite  an  infant  !  But  a  very 
good  sort  of  creaiure,  I  assure  you." 

"  I  am  sure  of  that,"  she  said,  with  great  earnestness.  "  He  must 
be!" 

"  Oh,  yes,  no  doubt  at  all  about  it,"  rejoined  Martin,  in  his  usual  care- 
less way.  "  He  is.  Well !  It  has  occurred  to  me — but  stay,  if  I  read 
you  what  I  have  written  and  intend  sending  to  him  by  post  to-night, 
it  will  explain  itself  '  My  dear  Tom  Pinch.'  That 's  rather  familiar, 
perhaps,"  said  Martin,  suddenly  remembering  that  he  was  proud  when 
they  had  last  met,  "but  I  call  him  my  dear  Tom  Pinch,  because  he  likes 
it,  and  it  pleases  him." 

"  Very  right,  and  very  kind,"  said  Mary. 

"Exactly  so!"  cried  Martin.  "  It 's  as  well  to  be  kind  whenever  one 
can ;  and,  as  I  said  before,  he  really  is  an  excellent  fellow.  '  My  dear 
Tom  Pinch, — I  address  this  under  cover  to  Mrs.  Lupin,  at  the  Blue 
Dragon,  and  have  begged  her  in  a  short  note  to  deliver  it  to  you 
without  saying  anything  about  it  elsewhere  ;  and  to  do  the  same  with 
all  future  letters  she  may  receive  from  me.  My  reason  for  so  doing 
will  be  at  once  apparent  to  you.'  I  don't  know  that  it  will  be,  by 
the  bye,"  said  Martin,  breaking  oiF,  "  for  he  's  slow  of  comprehension, 
poor  fellow  ;  but  he  '11  find  it  out  in  time.  My  reason  simply  is,  that 
I  don't  want  my  letters  to  be  read  by  other  people  ;  and  particularly 
by  the  scoundrel  whom  he  thinks  an  angel." 

"  Mr.  Pecksniff  again  V  asked  Mary. 

"  The  same,"  said  Martin  :  "  '  — will  be  at  once  apparent  to  you.  I 
have  completed  my  arrangements  for  going  to  America  ;  and  you  will 
be  surprised  to  hear  that  I  am  to  be  accompanied  by  Mark  Tapley, 
upon  whom  I  have  stumbled  strangely  in  London,  and  who  insists 
on  putting  himself  under  my  protection'  —  meaning,  my  love,"  said 
Martin,  breaking  off  again,  "  our  friend  in  the  rear,  of  course." 

She  was  delighted  to  hear  this,  and  bestowed  a  kind  glance  upon 
Mark,  which  he  brought  his  eyes  down  from  the  fog  to  encounter,  and 
received  with  immense  satisfaction.  She  said  in  his  hearing,  too,  that 
he  was  a  good  soul  and  a  merry  creature,  and  would  be  faithful,  she 
was  certain ;  commendations  which  Mr.  Tapley  inwardly  resolved  to 
deserve,  from  such  lips,  if  he  died  for  it, 

"  '  Now,  my  dear  Pinch,'"  resumed  Martin,  proceeding  with  his  letter  ; 
" '  I  am  going  to  repose  great  trust  in  you,  knowing  that  I  may  do  so 
with  perfect  reliance  on  your  honour  and  secrecy,  and  having  nobody 
else  just  now  to  trust  in.'  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  would  say  that,  Martin." 


182  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

"Wouldn't  you?  Well!  I'll  take  that  out.  It's  perfectly  true, 
though." 

"  But  it  might  seem  ungracious,  perhaps." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  Pinch,"  said  Martin.  "  There's  no  occasion  to 
stand  on  any  ceremony  with  Mm.  However,  I  '11  take  it  out,  as  you 
wish  it,  and  make  the  full  stop  '■  at  secrecy.'  Very  well  !  *  I  shall  not 
only  ' — this  is  the  letter  again,  you  know." 

"  I  understand." 

"  *  I  shall  not  only  inclose  my  letters  to  the  young  lady  of  whom  I 
have  told  you,  to  your  charge,  to  be  forwarded  as  she  may  request ;. 
but  I  most  earnestly  commit  her,  the  young  lady  herself,  to  your 
care  and  regard,  in  the  event  of  your  meeting  in  my  absence.  I 
have  reason  to  think  that  the  probabilities  of  your  encountering  eacli 
other — perhaps  very  frequently — are  now  neither  remote  nor  few  ;  and 
although  in  your  position  you  can  do  very  little  to  lessen  the  uneasiness 
of  hers,  I  trust  to  you  implicitly  to  do  that  much,  and  so  deserve  the 
confidence  I  have  reposed  in  you.'  You  see,  my  dear  Mary,"  said 
Martin,  "  it  will  be  a  great  consolation  to  you  to  have  anybody,  no 
matter  how  simple,  with  whom  you  can  speak  about  me  ;  and  the  very 
first  time  you  talk  to  Pinch,  you  '11  feel  at  once,  that  there  is  no  more 
occasion  for  any  embarrassment  or  hesitation  in  talking  to  him,  than  if 
he  were  an  old  woman." 

"  However  that  may  be,"  she  returned,  smiling,  "  he  is  your  friend,, 
and  that  is  enough." 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  's  my  friend,"  said  Martin,  "  certainly.  In  fact,  I  have- 
told  him  in  so  many  words  that  we'll  always  take  notice  of  him, 
and  protect  him  :  and  it 's  a  good  trait  in  his  character  that  he 's 
grateful — ^very  grateful  indeed.  You  '11  like  him  of  all  things,  my  love, 
I  know.  You'll  observe  very  much  that's  comical  and  old-fashioned 
about  Pinch,  but  you  needn't  mind  laughing  at  him  j  for  he  '11  not 
care  about  it.     He'll  rather  like  it,  indeed  !  " 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  put  that  to  the  test,  Martin." 

"You  won't  if  you  can  help  it,  of  course,"  he  said,  "  but  I  think 
you'll  find  him  a  little  too  much  for  your  gravity.  However  that's 
neither  here  nor  there,  and  it  certainly  is  not  the  letter ;  which  ends 
thus  :  '■  Knowing  that  I  need  not  impress  the  nature  and  extent  of 
that  confidence  upon  you  at  any  greater  length,  as  it  is  already  suffi- 
ciently established  in  your  mind,  I  will  only  say  in  bidding  you  fare- 
well, and  looking  forward  to  our  next  meeting,  that  I  shall  charge 
myself  from  this  time,  through  all  changes  for  the  better,  with  your 
advancement  and  happiness,  as  if  they  were  my  own.  You  may  rely 
upon  that.  And  always  believe  me,  my  dear  Tom  Pinch,  faithfully  your 
friend,  Martin  Chuzzlewit.  P.S.  I  enclose  the  amount  which  you  so. 
kindly' — Oh,"  said  Martin,  checking  himself,  and  folding  up  the  letter, 
^'that's  nothing!" 

At  this  crisis  Mark  Tapley  interposed,  with  an  apology  for  remarking 
that  the  clock  at  the  Horse  Guards  was  striking. 

"  Which  I  shouldn't  have  said  nothing  about,  sir,"  added  Mark,  "  i£' 
the  young  lady  hadn't  begged  me  to  be  particular  in  mentioning  it."  ; 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  183 

'  "  I  did,"  said  Marj.  "  Thank  you.  You  are  quite  right.  In  another 
minute  I  shall  be  ready  to  return.  We  have  time  for  a  very  few  words 
more,  dear  Martin,  and  although  I  had  much  to  say,  it  must  remain 
unsaid  until  the  happy  time  of  our  next  meeting.  Heaven  send  it  may 
come  speedily  and  prosperously  !     But  I  have  no  fear  of  that." 

"  Fear  ! "  cried  Martin.  "  Why,  who  has  1  What  are  a  few  months  1 
What  is  a  whole  year  ?  When  I  come  gaily  back,  with  a  road  through 
life  hewn  out  before  me,  then  indeed,  looking  back  upon  this  parting, 
it  may  seem  a  dismal  one.  But  now  !  I  swear  I  wouldn't  have  it  hap- 
pen under  more  favourable  auspices,  if  I  could  :  for  then  I  should  be 
less  inclined  to  go,  and  less  impressed  with  the  necessity." 

"  Yes,  yes.     I  feel  that  too.     When  do  you  go  V 

"  To-night.  We  leave  for  Liverpool  to-night.  A  vessel  sails  from 
that  port,  as  I  hear,  in  three  days.  In  a  month,  or  less,  we  shall  be 
there.  Why,  what's  a  month  !  How  many  months  have  flown  by 
since  our  last  parting  !" 

"Long  to  look  back  upon,"  said  Mary,  echoing  his  cheerful  tone, 
'^but  nothing  in  their  course  !" 

"Nothing  at  all  ! "  cried  Martin.  "  I  shall  have  change  of  scene  and 
change  of  place ;  change  of  people,  change  of  manners,  change  of  cares 
and  hopes  !  Time  will  wear  wings  indeed  !  I  can  bear  anything,  so 
that  I  have  swift  action,  Mary." 

Was  he  thinking  solely  of  her  care  for  him,  when  he  took  so  little 
heed  of  her  share  in  the  separation  ;  of  her  quiet  monotonous  endur- 
ance, and  her  slow  anxiety  from  day  to  day  1  Was  there  nothing  jar- 
ring and  discordant  even  in  his  tone  of  courage,  with  this  one  note  self 
for  ever  audible,  however  high  the  strain?  Not  in  her  ears.  It  had 
been  better  otherwise,  perhaps,  but  so  it  was.  She  heard  the  same  bold 
spirit  which  had  flung  away  as  dross  all  gain  and  profit  for  her  sake, 
making  light  of  peril  and  privation  that  she  might  be  calm  and  happy  ; 
and  she  heard  no  more.  That  heart  where  self  has  found  no  place  and 
raised  no  throne,  is  slow  to  recognise  its  ugly  presence  when  it  looks 
upon  it.  As  one  possessed  of  an  evil  spirit  was  held  in  old  time  to  be 
alone  conscious  of  the  lurking  demon  in  the  breasts  of  other  men,  so 
kindred  vices  know  each  other  in  their  hiding-places  every  day,  when 
Virtue  is  incredulous  and  blind. 

"  The  quarter's  gone  !"  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  in  a  voice  of  admonition. 

"  I  shall  be  ready  to  return  immediately,"  she  said.  "  One  thing, 
dear  Martin,  I  am  bound  to  tell  you.  You  intreated  me  a  few  minutes 
since  only  to  answer  what  you  asked  me  in  reference  to  one  theme,  but 
you  should  and  must  know — otherwise  I  could  not  be  at  ease — that 
since  that  separation  of  which  I  was  the  unhappy  occasion,  he  has  never 
once  uttered  your  name ;  has  never  coupled  it,  or  any  faint  allusion  to 
it,  with  passion  or  reproach  ;  and  has  never  abated  in  his  kindness 
to  me." 

"  I  thank  him  for  that  last  act,"  said  Martin,  "  and  for  nothing  else. 
Though  on  consideration  I  may  thank  him  for  his  other  forbearance  also, 
inasmuch  as  I  neither  expect  nor  desire  that  he  will  mention  my  name 
again.     He  may  once,  perhaps — to  couple  it  with  reproach — in  his  will. 


184  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Let  him,  if  lie  please !     By  the  time  ifc  reaches  me,  he  will  be  in  his 
grave  :  a  satire  on  his  own  anger,  God  help  him  1" 

"  Martin  !  If  you  would  but  sometimes,  in  some  quiet  hour  ;  beside 
the  winter  fire ;  in  the  summer  air ;  when  you  hear  gentle  music,  or 
think  of  Death,  or  Home,  or  Childhood  ;  if  you  would  at  such  a  season 
resolve  to  think,  but  once  a  month,  or  even  once  a  year,  of  him,  or  any 
one  who  ever  wronged  you,  you  would  forgive  him  in  your  heart,  I  know  !" 

"  If  I  believed  that  to  be  true,  Mary,"  he  replied,  "  I  would  resolve  at 
no  such  time  to  bear  him  in  my  mind  :  wishing  to  spare  myself  the 
shame  of  such  a  weakness.  I  was  not  born  to  be  the  toy  and  puppet  of 
any  man,  far  less  his  ;  to  whose  pleasure  and  caprice,  in  return  for  any 
good  he  did  me,  my  whole  youth  was  sacrificed.  It  became  between 
us  two  a  fair  exchange — a  barter — and  no  more  :  and  there  is  no  such 
balance  against  me  that  I  need  throw  in  a  mawkish  forgiveness  to  poise 
the  scale.  He  has  forbidden  all  mention  of  me  to  you,  I  know,"  he 
added  hastily.     "  Come  !     Has  he  not?" 

"  That  was  long  ago,"  she  returned  ;  "  immediately  after  your  parting  ; 
before  you  had  left  the  house.     He  has  never  done  so  since." 

"  He  has  never  done  so  since,  because  he  has  seen  no  occasion,"  said 
Martin  ;  "  but  that  is  of  little  consequence,  one  way  or  other.  Let  all 
allusion  to  him  between  you  and  me  be  interdicted  from  this  time  forth. 
And  therefore,  love — "  he  drew  her  quickly  to  him,  for  the  time  of 
parting  had  now  come — "  in  the  first  letter  that  you  write  to  me  through 
the  Post-ofiice,  addressed  to  New  York ;  and  in  all  the  others  that  you 
send  through  Pinch ;  remember  he  has  no  existence,  but  has  become  to 
us  as  one  who  is  dead.  Now,  God  bless  you  !  This  is  a  strange  place 
for  such  a  meeting  and  such  a  parting  ;  but  our  next  meeting  shall  be  in 
a  better,  and  our  next  and  last  parting  in  a  worse." 

"  One  other  question,  Martin,  I  must  ask.  Have  you  provided  money 
for  this  journey  T' 

"  Have  I  ?"  cried  Martin  ;  it  might  have  been  in  his  pride  ;  it  might 
have  been  in  his  desire  to  set  her  mind  at  ease  :  "  Have  I  provided 
money  1  Why,  there's  a  question  for  an  emigrant's  wife  !  How  could 
I  move  on  land  or  sea  without  it,  love  ?" 

"I  mean,  enough." 

"  Enough  !  More  than  enough.  Twenty  times  more  than  enough. 
A  pocket-full.  Mark  and  I,  for  all  essential  ends,  are  quite  as  rich 
as  if  we  had  the  purse  of  Fortunatus  in  our  baggage." 

"The  half-hour's  a  going  !"  cried  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  Good  bye  a  hundred  times  !"  cried  Mary,  in  a  trembling  voice. 

But  how  cold  the  comfort  in  Good  bye  !  Mark  Tapley  knew  it  per- 
fectly. Perhaps  he  knew  it  from  his  reading,  perhaps  from  his  ex- 
perience, perhaps  from  intuition.  It  is  impossible  to  say  ;  but  however 
he  knew  it,  his  knowledge  instinctively  suggested  to  him  the  wisest 
course  of  proceeding  that  any  man  could  have  adopted  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. He  was  taken  with  a  violent  fit  of  sneezing,  and  was  obliged 
to  turn  his  head  another  way.  In  doing  which,  he,  in  a  manner, 
fenced  and  sci^eened  the  lovers  into  a  comer  by  the:nsclves. 

There  was  a  short  pause,  but  Mark  had  an  undefined  sensation  that 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  185 

it  was  a  satisfactory  one  in  its  way.  Then  Mary,  with  her  veil  lowered, 
passed  him  wdth  a  quick  step,  and  beckoned  him  to  follow.  She  stopped 
once  more  before  they  lost  that  corner ;  looked  back  ;  and  waved  her 
hand  to  Martin.  He  made  a  start  towards  them  at  the  moment  as  if 
he  had  some  other  farewell  words  to  say  ;  but  she  only  hurried  off  the 
faster,  and  Mr.  Tapley  followed  as  in  duty  bound. 

When  he  rejoined  Martin  again  in  his  own  chamber,  he  found  that 
gentleman  seated  moodily  before  the  dusty  grate,  with  his  two  feet  on 
the  fender,  his  two  elbows  on  his  knees,  and  his  chin  supported,  in  a  not 
very  ornamental  manner,  on  the  palms  of  his  hands. 

"Well,  Markr' 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mark,  taking  a  long  breath,  "  I  see  the  young  lady 
safe  home,  and  I  feel  pretty  comfortable  after  it.  She  sent  a  lot  of  kind 
words,  sir,  and  this,"  handing  him  a  ring,  "  for  a  parting  keepsake." 

"  Diamonds  !"  said  Martin,  kissing  it — let  us  do  him  justice,  it 
was  for  her  sake  ;  not  for  theirs — and  putting  it  on  his  little  finger. 
"  Splendid  diamonds.  My  grandfather  is  a  singular  character,  Mark. 
He  must  have  given  her  this,  now." 

Mark  Tapley  knew  as  well  that  she  had  bought  it,  to  the  end  that 
that  unconscious  speaker  might  carry  some  article  of  sterling  value 
w^th  him  in  his  necessity  ;  as  he  knew  that  it  was  day,  and  not  night. 
Though  he  had  no  more  acquaintance  of  his  own  knowledge  with  the 
history  of  the  glittering  trinket  on  Martin's  outspread  finger,  than 
Martin  himself  had,  he  was  as  certain  that  in  its  purchase  she  had  ex- 
pended her  whole  stock  of  hoarded  money,  as  if  he  had  seen  it  paid 
down  coin  by  coin.  Her  lover's  strange  obtuseness  in  relation  to  this 
little  incident,  promptly  suggested  to  Mark's  mind  its  real  cause  and 
root ;  and  from  that  moment  he  had  a  clear  and  perfect  insight  into 
the  one  absorbing  principle  of  Martin's  character. 

'•  She  is  worthy  of  the  sacrifices  I  have  made,"  said  Martin,  folding 
his  arms,  and  looking  at  the  ashes  in  the  stove,  as  if  in  resumption  of 
some  former  thoughts.  "  Well  worthy  of  them.  No  riches," — here  he 
stroked  his  chin,  and  mused — "  could  have  compensated  for  the  loss  of 
such  a  nature.  Not  to  mention  that  in  gaining  her  affection,  I  have 
followed  the  bent  of  my  own  wishes,  and  baulked  the  selfish  schemes  of 
others  who  had  no  right  to  form  them.  She  is  quite  worthy — more 
than  worthy — of  the  sacrifices  I  have  made.  Yes,  she  is.  No  doubt 
of  it." 

These  ruminations  might  or  might  not  have  reached  Mark  Tapley ; 
for  though  they  were  by  no  means  addressed  to  him,  yet  they  were 
softly  uttered.  In  any  case,  he  stood  there,  watching  Martin,  with  an 
indescribable  and  most  involved  expression  on  his  visage,  until  that 
young  man  roused  himself  and  looked  towards  him ;  when  he  turned 
away  as  being  suddenly  intent  on  certain  preparations  for  the  journey, 
and,  without  giving  vent  to  any  articulate  sound,  smiled  with  surpassing 
ghastliness,  and  seemed  by  a  twist  of  his  features  and  a  motion  of  his 
lips,  to  release  himself  of  this  word  : 

"Jolly!" 


186'  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE    BURDEN    WHEREOF,    IS    HAIL    COLUMBIA  ! 

A  DARK  and  dreary  night ;  people  nestling  in  their  beds  or  circling 
late  about  the  fire ;  Want,  colder  than  Charity,  shivering  at  the  street 
corners  ;  church-towers  humming  with  the  faint  vibration  of  their  own 
tongues,  but  newly  resting  from  the  ghostly  preachment  'One!'  The 
earth  covered  with  a  sable  pall  as  for  the  burial  of  yesterday  ;  the  clumps 
of  dark  trees,  its  giant  plumes  of  funeral  feathers  waving  sadly  to  and 
fro  :  all  hushed,  all  noiseless,  and  in  deep  repose,  save  the  swift  clouds 
that  skim  across  the  moon,  and  the  cautious  wind,  as,  creeping  after  them 
upon  the  ground,  it  stops  to  listen,  and  goes  rustling  on,  and  stops 
again,  and  follows,  like  a  savage  on  the  trail. 

Whither  go  the  clouds  and  wind,  so  eagerly  ?  If  like  guilty  spirits 
they  repair  to  some  dread  conference  with  powers  like  themselves,  in 
what  wild  region  do  the  elements  hold  council,  or  where  unbend  in 
terrible  disport  ? 

Here  !  Free  from  that  cramped  prison  called  the  earth,  and  out  upon 
the  waste  of  waters.  Here,  roaring,  raging,  shrieking,  howling,  all  night 
long.  Hither  come  the  sounding  voices  from  the  caverns  on  the  coast 
of  that  small  island,  sleeping  a  thousand  miles  away  so  quietly  in  the 
midst  of  angry  waves  ;  and  hither,  to  meet  them,  rush  the  blasts  from 
unknown  desert  places  of  the  world.  Here  in  the  fury  of  their  un- 
checked liberty,  they  storm  and  buffet  with  each  other,  until  the  sea, 
lashed  into  passion  like  their  own,  leaps  up  in  ravings  mightier  than 
theirs,  and  the  whole  scene  is  whirling  madness. 

On,  on,  on,  over  the  countless  miles  of  angry  space  roll  the  long 
heaving  billows.  Mountains  and  caves  are  here,  and  yet  are  not ;  for 
what  is  now  the  one,  is  now  the  other  ;  then  all  is  but  a  boiling  heap  of 
rushing  water.  Pursuit,  and  flight,  and  mad  return  of  wave  on  wave, 
and  savage  struggle,  ending  in  a  spouting-up  of  foam  that  whitens  the 
black  night ;  incessant  change  of  place,  and  form,  and  hue  ;  constancy 
in  nothing,  but  eternal  strife  ;  on,  on,  on,  they  roll,  and  darker  grows 
the  night,  and  louder  howl  the  winds,  and  more  clamorous  and  fierce 
become  the  million  voices  in  the  sea,  when  the  wild  cry  goes  forth  upon 
the  storm  "  A  ship  ! " 

Onward  she  comes,  in  gallant  combat  with  the  elements,  her  tall  masts 
trembling,  and  her  timbers  starting  on  the  strain  ;  onward  she  comes, 
now  high  upon  the  curling  billows,  now  low  down  in  the  hollows  of  the 
sea  as  hiding  for  the  moment  from  its  fury ;  and  every  storm-voice  in 
the  air  and  water,  cries  more  loudly  yet,  "  A  ship  ! " 

Still  she  comes  striving  on  :  and  at  her  boldness  and  the  spreading 
cry,  the  angry  waves  rise  up  above  each  other's  hoary  heads  to  look  ; 
and  round  about  the  vessel,  far  as  the  mariners  on  her  decks  can  pierce 
into  the  gloom,  they  press  upon  her,  forcing  each  other  down,  and 
starting  up,  and  rushing  forward  from  afar,  in  dreadful  curiosity.  High 
over  her  they  break  ;  and  round  her  surge  and  roar  ;  and  giving  place 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  187 

to  others,  meaningly  depart,  and  dash  themselves  to  fragments  in  their 
baffled  anger  :  still  she  comes  onward  bravely.  And  though  the  eager 
multitude  crowd  thick  and  fast  upon  her  all  the  night,  and  dawn  of 
day  discovers  the  untiring  train  yet  bearing  down  upon  the  ship  in  an 
eternity  of  troubled  water,  onward  she  comes,  with  dim  lights  burning  in 
her  hull,  and  people  there,  asleep  :  as  if  no  deadly  element  were  peering 
in  at  every  seam  and  chink,  and  no  drowned  seaman's  grave,  with  but  a 
plank  to  cover  it,  were  yawning  in  the  unfathomable  depths  below. 

Among  these  sleeping  voyagers  were  Martin  and  Mark  Tapley,  who, 
rocked  into  a  heavy  drowsiness  by  the  unaccustomed  motion,  were  as- 
insensible  to  the  foul  air  in  which  they  lay,  as  to  the  uproar  without. 
It  was  broad  day,  when  the  latter  awoke  with  a  dim  idea  that  he  was 
dreaming  of  having  gone  to  sleep  in  a  four-post  bedstead  which  had 
turned  bottom  upwards  in  the  course  of  the  night.  There  was  more 
reason  in  this  too,  than  in  the  roasting  of  eggs  ;  for  the  first  objects  Mr. 
Tapley  recognised  when  he  opened  his  eyes  were  his  own  heels — looking 
down  at  him,  as  he  afterwards  observed,  from  a  nearly  perpendicular 
elevation. 

"  Well ! "  said  Mark,  getting  himself  into  a  sitting  posture,  after 
various  ineffectual  straggles  with  the  rolling  of  the  ship.  "  This  is  the 
first  time  as  ever  I  stood  on  my  head  all  night." 

"  You  shouldn't  go  to  sleep  upon  the  ground  with  your  head  to  lee- 
ward, then,"  growled  a  man  in  one  of  the  berths. 

"  With  my  head  to  where  ? "  asked  Mark. 

The  man  repeated  his  previous  sentiment. 

"  No,  I  won't  another  time,"  said  Mark,  "  when  I  know  whereabouts 
on  the  map  that  country  is.  In  the  meanwhile  I  can  give  you  a  better 
piece  of  advice.  Don't  you  nor  any  other  friend  of  mine  never  go  ta 
sleep  with  his  head  in  a  ship,  any  more." 

The  man  gave  a  grunt  of  discontented  acquiescence,  turned  over  in 
his  berth,  and  drew  his  blanket  over  his  head. 

"  — For,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  pursuing  the  theme  by  way  of  soliloquy,  in 
a  low  tone  of  voice ;  "  the  sea  is  as  nonsensical  a  thing  as  anything 
going.  It  never  knows  what  to  do  with  itself.  It  hasn't  got  no  em- 
ployment for  its  mind,  and  is  always  in  a  state  of  vacancy.  Like  them 
Polar  bears  in  the  wild-beast-shows  as  is  constantly  a  nodding  their 
heads  from  side  to  side,  it  never  can  be  quiet.  Which  is  entirely  owing  to- 
its  uncommon  stupidity." 

"  Is  that  you,  Mark  ?"  asked  a  faint  voice  from  another  berth. 

'"  It 's  as  much  of  me  as  is  left,  sir,  after  a  fortnight  of  this  work," 
Mr.  Tapley  replied.  "  What  with  leading  the  life  of  a  fly  ever  since 
I  've  been  aboard — for  I  've  been  perpetually  holding-on  to  something  or 
other,  in  a  upside-down  position — what  with  that,  sir,  and  putting  a  very 
little  into  myself,  and  taking  a  good  deal  out  in  various  ways,  there 
an't  too  much  of  me  to  swear  by.  How  do  j/oic  find  yourself  this 
morning,  sirl" 

"  Very  miserable,"  said  Martin,  with  a  peevish  groan.  "  Ugh  !  This 
is  wretched,  indeed  !" 

'*  Creditable,"  muttered  Mark,  pressing  one  hand  upon  his  aching 
head,  and  looking  round  him  with  a  rueful  grin.     "  That 's  the  great 


188  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

comfort.  It  is  creditable  to  keep  up  one's  spirits  here.  Virtue's  its 
own  reward.     So  's  jollity." 

Mark  was  so  far  right,  that  unquestionably  any  man  who  retained  his 
cheerfulness  among  the  steerage  accommodations  of  that  noble  and  fast 
sailing  line  of  packet-ship,  "  The  Screw,"  was  solely  indebted  to  his  own 
resources,  and  shipped  his  good  humour,  like  his  provisions,  without  any 
contribution  or  assistance  from  the  owners.  A  dark,  low,  stifling  cabin, 
surrounded  by  berths  all  filled  to  overflowing  with  men,  women,  and- 
children,  in  various  stages  of  sickness  and  misery,  is  not  the  liveliest 
palace  of  assembly  at  any  time  ;  but  when  it  is  so  crowded  (as  the 
steerage  cabin  of  the  "  Screw  "  was,  every  passage  out),  that  mattresses 
and  beds  are  heaped  upon  the  floor,  to  the  extinction  of  everything  like 
comfort,  cleanliness,  and  decency,  it  is  liable  to  operate  not  only  as  a 
pretty  strong  barrier  against  amiability  of  temper,  but  as  a  positive 
encourager  of  selfish  and  rough  humours.  Mark  felt  this,  as  he  sat 
looking  about  him  ;  and  his  spirits  rose  proportionately. 

There  were  English  people,  Irish  people,  Welsh  people,  and  Scotch 
people  there  ;  all  with  their  little  store  of  coarse  food  and  shabby  clothes  ; 
and  nearly  all,  with  their  families  of  children.  There  were  children  of 
all  ages  ;  from  the  baby  at  the  breast,  to  the  slattern-girl  who  was 
as  much  a  grown  woman  as  her  mother.  Every  kind  of  domestic 
suffering  that  is  bred  in  poverty,  illness,  banishment,  sorrow,  and  long 
travel  in  bad  weather,  was  crammed  into  the  little  space ;  and  yet  was 
there  infinitely  less  of  complaint  and  querulousness,  and  infinitely  more 
of  mutual  assistance  and  general  kindness  to  be  found  in  that  unwhole- 
some ark,  than  in  many  brilliant  ball-rooms. 

Mark  looked  about  him  wistfully,  and  his  face  brightened  as  he  looked. 
Here  an  old  grandmother  was  crooning  over  a  sick  child,  and  rocking 
it  to  and  fro,  in  arms  hardly  more  wasted  than  its  own  young  limbs  ; 
here  a  poor  woman  with  an  infant  in  her  lap,  mended  another  little 
creature's  clothes,  and  quieted  another  who  was  creeping  up  about  her 
from  their  scanty  bed  upon  the  floor.  Here  were  old  men  awkwardly 
engaged  in  little  household  offices,  wherein  they  would  have  been  ridi- 
culous but  for  their  good-will  and  kind  purpose  ;  and  here  were 
swarthy  fellows — giants  in  their  way — doing  such  little  acts  of  tender- 
ness for  those  about  them,  as  might  have  belonged  to  gentlest-hearted 
dwarfs.  The  very  idiot  in  the  corner  who  sat  mowing  there,  all  day, 
had  his  faculty  of  imitation  roused  by  what  he  saw  about  him  j  and 
snapped  his  fingers,  to  amuse  a  crying  child. 

"  Now,  then,"  said  Mark,  nodding  to  a  woman  who  was  dressing  her 
three  children  at  no  great  distance  from  him — and  the  grin  upon  his 
face  had  by  this  time  spread  from  ear  to  ear — "  Hand  over  one  of  them 
young  uns  according  to  custom." 

"  I  wish  you'd  get  breakfast,  Mark,  instead  of  worrying  with  people 
who  don't  belong  to  you,"  observed  Martin,  petulantly. 

"All  right,"  said  Mark.  '' S/ie'W  do  that.  It's  a  fiiir  division  of 
labour,  sir.  I  wash  her  boys,  and  she  makes  our  tea.  I  never  could 
make  tea,  but  any  one  can  wash  a  boy." 

The  woman,  who  was  delicate  and  ill,  felt  and  understood  his  kind- 
ness, as  well  she  might,  for  she  had  been  covered  every  night  with  his 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  189 

greatcoat,  while  he  had  had  for  his  own  bed  the  bare  boards  and  a  rug. 
But  Martin,  who  seldom  got  up  or  looked  about  him,  was  quite  incensed 
by  the  folly  of  this  speech,  and  expressed  his  dissatisfaction,  by  an 
impatient  groan. 

"  So  it  is,  certainly,"  said  Mark,  brushing  the  child's  hair  as  coolly  as 
if  he  had  been  born  and  bred  a  barber. 

"What  are  you  talking  about,  now?"  asked  Martin. 

"  What  you  said,"  replied  Mark  ;  "  or  what  you  meant,  when  you 
gave  that  there  dismal  vent  to  your  feelings.  I  quite  go  along  with  it, 
sir.     It  is  very  hard  upon  her." 

"What  is?" 

"  Making  the  voyage  by  herself  along  with  these  young  impediments 
here,  and  going  such  a  way  at  such  a  time  of  year  to  join  her  husband. 
If  you  don't  want  to  be  driven  mad  with  yellow  soap  in  your  eye, 
young  man,"  said  Mr.  Tapley  to  the  second  urchin,  who  was  by  this  time 
under  his  hands  at  the  basin,  "  you'd  better  shut  it." 

"  Where  does  she  join  her  husband  ]  "  asked  Martin,  yawning. 

"Why,  I'm  very  much  afraid,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  in  a  low  voice,  "that 
she  don't  know.  I  hope  she  mayn't  miss  him.  But  she  sent  her  last 
letter  by  hand,  and  it  don't  seem  to  have  been  very  clearly  understood 
between  'em  without  it,  and  if  she  don't  see  him  a  waving  his  pocket- 
handkerchief  on  the  shore,  like  a  picter  out  of  a  song-book,  my  opinion 
is,  she'll  break  her  heart." 

"  Why,  how,  in  Folly's  name,  does  the  woman  come  to  be  on  board 
ship  on  such  a  wild-goose  venture  !  "  cried  Martin. 

Mr.  Tapley  glanced  at  him  for  a  moment  as  he  lay  prostrate  in  his 
berth,  and  then  said,  very  quietly, 

"  Ah  !  How,  indeed  !  I  can't  think  !  He's  been  aAvay  from  her  for 
two  year  ;  she's  been  very  poor  and  lonely  in  her  own  country  ;  and  has 
always  been  a  looking  forward  to  meeting  him.  It's  very  strange  she 
should  be  here.  Quite  amazing  !  A  little  mad,  perhaps  !  There  can't 
be  no  other  way  of  accounting  for  it." 

Martin  was  too  far  gone  in  the  lassitude  of  sea-sickness  to  make  any 
reply  to  these  words,  or  even  to  attend  to  them  as  they  were  spoken. 
And  the  subject  of  their  discourse  returning  at  this  crisis  with  some  hot 
tea,  effectually  put  a  stop  to  any  resumption  of  the  theme  by  Mr.  Tapley ; 
who,  when  the  meal  was  over  and  he  had  adjusted  Martin's  bed,  went  up 
on  deck  to  wash  the  breakfast  service,  which  consisted  of  two  half-pint  tin 
mugs,  and  a  shaving-pot  of  the  same  metal. 

It  is  due  to  Mark  Tapley  to  state,  that  he  suffered  at  least  as  much 
from  sea-sickness  as  any  man,  woman,  or  child,  on  board  ;  and  that  he 
had  a  peculiar  faculty  of  knocking  himself  about  on  the  smallest  provo- 
cation, and  losing  his  legs  at  every  lurch  of  the  ship.  But  resolved,  in 
his  usual  phrase,  to  "  come  out  strong"  under  disadvantageous  circum- 
stances, he  was  the  life  and  soul  of  the  steerage,  and  made  no  more  of 
stopping  in  the  middle  of  a  facetious  conversation  to  go  away  and  be 
excessively  ill  by  himself,  and  afterwards  come  back  in  the  very  best 
and  gayest  of  tempers  to  resume  it,  than  if  such  a  course  of  proceeding 
had  been  the  commonest  in  the  world. 
J,   It  cannot  be  said  that  as  his  illness  wore  off,  his  cheerfulness  and 


190  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

good-nature  increased,  because  they  would  hardly  admit  of  augmentation  ; 
but  his  usefulness  among  the  weaker  members  of  the  party  was  much 
enlarged  ;  and  at  all  times  and  seasons  there  he  was  exerting  it.  If  a 
gleam  of  sun  shone  out  of  the  dark  sky,  down  Mark  tumbled  into  the 
cabin,  and  presently  up  he  came  again  with  a  woman  in  his  arms,  or 
half-a-dozen  children,  or  a  man,  or  a  bed,  or  a  saucepan,  or  a  basket,  or 
something  animate  or  inanimate,  that  he  thought  would  be  the  better 
for  the  air.  If  an  hour  or  two  of  fine  weather  in  the  middle  of  the 
day,  tempted  those  who  seldom  or  never  came  on  deck  at  other  times, 
to  crawl  into  the  long-boat,  or  lie  down  upon  the  spare  spars,  and 
try  to  eat,  there  in  the  centre  of  the  group  was  Mr.  Tapley,  handing 
about  salt  beef  and  biscuit,  or  dispensing  tastes  of  grog,  or  cutting  up 
the  children's  provisions  with  his  pocket-knife,  for  their  greater  ease 
and  comfort,  or  reading  aloud  from  a  venerable  newspaper,  or  singing 
some  roaring  old  song  to  a  select  party,  or  writing  the  beginnings 
of  letters  to  their  friends  at  home  for  people  who  couldn't  write,  or 
cracking  jokes  with  the  crew,  or  nearly  getting  blown  over  the  side, 
or  emerging,  half-drowned,  from  a  shower  of  spray,  or  lending  a  hand 
somewhere  or  other  :  but  always  doing  something  for  the  general 
■entertainment.  At  night,  when  the  cooking-fire  was  lighted  on  the 
deck, and  the  driving  sparks  that  flew  among  the  rigging,  and  the 
cloud  of  sails,  seemed  to  menace  the  ship  with  certain  annihilation  by 
fire,  in  case  the  elements  of  air  and  water  failed  to  compass  her  destruc- 
tion ;  there  again  was  Mr.  Tapley,  with  his  coat  ofl'  and  his  shirt- 
sleeves turned  up  to  his  elbows,  doing  all  kinds  of  culinary  offices  ; 
compounding  the  strangest  dishes ;  recognised  by  every  one  as  an 
established  authority  ;  and  helping  all  parties  to  achieve  something, 
which  left  to  themselves,  they  never  could  have  done,  and  never  would 
have  dreamed  of.  In  short,  there  never  was  a  more  popular  character 
than  Mark  Tapley  became  on  board  that  noble  and  fast-sailing  line-of- 
packet  ship,  the  Screw  ;  and  he  attained  at  last  to  such  a  pitch  of  uni- 
versal admiration,  that  he  began  to  have  grave  doubts  within  himself 
whether  a  man  might  reasonably  claim  any  credit  for  being  jolly  under 
such  exciting  circumstances. 

"  If  this  was  going  to  last,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  "  there'd  be  no  great 
difierence  as  I  can  perceive,  between  the  Screw  and  the  Dragon.  I 
never  am  to  get  any  credit,  I  think.  I  begin  to  be  afraid  that  the 
Pates  is  determined  to  make  the  world  easy  to  me." 

"  Well,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  near  whose  berth  he  had  ruminated  to 
this  effect.     "  When  will  this  be  over  ?" 

"  Another  week,  they  say,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  "  will  most  likely  bring 
us  into  port.  The  ship's  going  along  at  present,  as  sensible  as  a  ship  can, 
sir  j  though  I  don't  mean  to  say  as  that's  any  very  high  praise." 

"  I  don't  think  it  is,  indeed,"  groaned  Martin. 

"  You'd  feel  all  the  better  for  it,  sir,  if  you  was  to  turn  out,"  observed 
Mark. 

"  And  be  seen  by  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  on  the  after-deck,'* 
returned  Martin,  with  a  scornful  emphasis  upon  the  words,  "  mingling 
with  the  beggarly  crowd  that  are  stowed  away  in  this  vile  hole.  I  should 
be  greatly  the  better  for  that,  no  doubt  !" 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  191 

"  I'm  thankful  that  I  can't  say  from  my  o"wti  experience  what  the 
feelings  of  a  gentleman  may  be,"  said  Mark,  "  but  I  should  have  thougkt, 
sir,  as  a  gentleman  "vvould  feel  a  deal  more  uncomfortable  down  here, 
than  up  in  the  fresh  air,  especially  when  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  the 
after-cabin  know  just  as  much  about  him,  as  he  does  about  them,  and 
are  likely  to  trouble  their  heads  about  him  in  the  same  proportion.  I 
should  have  thought  that,  certainly." 

"I  tell  you,  then,"  rejoined  Martin,  " you  would  have  thought  wrong, 
and  do  think  wrong." 

"  Very  likely,  sir,"  said  Mark,  with  imperturbable  good  temper.  "  I 
often  do." 

"  As  to  lying  here,"  cried  Martin,  raising  himself  on  his  elbow,  and 
looking  angrily  at  his  follower.  "  Do  you  suppose  it's  a  pleasure  to 
lie  here  1 " 

"  All  the  madhouses  in  the  world,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  "  couldn't  produce 
such  a  maniac  as  the  man  must  be  who  could  think  that." 

"  Then  why  are  you  for  ever  goading  and  urging  me  to  get  up  1 " 
asked  Martin.  "  I  lie  here  because  I  don't  wish  to  be  recognised  in  the 
better  days  to  which  I  aspire,  by  any  purse-proud  citizen,  as  the  man  who 
came  over  with  him  among  the  steerage  passengers.  I  lie  here,  because 
I  wish  to  conceal  my  circumstances  and  myself,  and  not  to  arrive  in  a  new 
world  badged  and  ticketed  as  an  utterly  poverty-stricken  man.  If  I  could 
have  afforded  a  passage  in  the  after-cabin,  I  should  have  held  up  my 
head  with  the  rest.     As  I  couldn't,  I  hide  it.    Do  you  understand  that  <" 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,"  said  Mark.  "  I  didn't  know  you  took  it  so 
much  to  heart  as  this  comes  to." 

'•  Of  course  you  didn't  know,"  returned  his  master.  "  How  should 
you  know,  unless  I  told  you?  It's  no  trial  to  ?/ou,  Mark,  to  make 
yourself  comfortable  and  to  bustle  about.  It 's  as  natural  for  you  to 
do  so  under  the  circumstances  as  it  is  for  me  not  to  do  so.  Why,  you 
don't  suppose  there  is  a  living  creature  in  this  ship  who  can  by  possi- 
bility have  half  so  much  to  undergo  on  board  of  her  as  /  have  ?  Do 
you?"  he  asked,  sitting  upright  in  his  berth  and  looking  at  Mark,  with 
an  expression  of  great  earnestness  not  unmixed  with  wonder. 

Mark  twisted  his  face  into  a  tight  knot,  and  with  his  head  very  much 
on  one  side  pondered  upon  this  question  as  if  he  felt  it  an  extremely 
difficult  one  to  answer.  He  was  relieved  from  his  embarrassment  by 
Martin  himself,  who  said,  as  he  stretched  himself  upon  his  back  again 
and  resumed  the  book  he  had  been  reading  : 

"  But  what  is  the  use  of  my  putting  such  a  case  to  you,  when  the  very 
essence  of  what  I  have  been  saying,  is,  that  you  cannot  by  possibility 
understand  it !  Make  me  a  little  brandy-and-water — cold  and  very 
weak — and  give  me  a  biscuit,  and  tell  your  friend,  who  is  a  nearer 
neighbour  of  ours  than  I  could  wish,  to  try  and  keep  her  children 
a  little  quieter  to-night  than  she  did  last  night,  that 's  a  good  fellow." 

Mr.  Tapley  set  himself  to  obey  these  orders  with  great  alacrity,  and 
pending  their  execution,  it  may  be  presumed  his  flagging  spirits  revived  : 
inasmuch  as  he  several  times  observed,  below  his  breath,  that  in  respect 
of  its  power  of  imparting  a  credit  to  jollity,  the  Screw  unquestionably  had 
some  decided  advantages  over  the  Dragon.     He  also  remarked,  that  it 


192  LIFE    AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

was  a  high  gratification  to  him  to  reflect  that  he  would  carry  its  main 
excellence  ashore  with  him,  and  have  it  constantly  beside  him  wherever 
•  he  went ;  but  what  he  meant  by  these  consolatory  thoughts  he  did  not 
explain. 

And  now  a  general  excitement  began  to  prevail  on  board  ;  and  various 
predictions  relative  to  the  precise  day,  and  even  the  precise  hour  at 
which  they  would  reach  New  York,  were  freely  broached.  There  was 
infinitely  more  crowding  on  deck  and  looking  over  the  ship's  side  than 
there  had  been  before  ;  and  an  epidemic  broke  out  for  packing  up  things 
every  morning,  which  required  unpacking  again  every  night.  Those 
who  had  any  letters  to  deliver,  or  any  friends  to  meet,  or  any  settled 
plans  of  going  anywhere  or  doing  anything,  discussed  their  prospects  a 
hundred  times  a  day  ;  and  as  this  class  of  passengers  was  very  small, 
and  the  number  of  those  who  had  no  prospects  whatever  was  very 
large,  there  were  plenty  of  listeners  and  few  talkers.  Those  who  had 
been  ill  all  along  got  well  now,  and  those  who  had  been  well  got  better. 
An  American  gentleman  in  the  after-cabin,  who  had  been  wrapped  up 
in  fur  and  oilskin  the  whole  passage,  unexpectedly  appeared  in  a  very 
shiny,  tall,  black  hat,  and  constantly  overhauled  a  very  little  valise  of 
pale  leather,  which  contained  his  clothes,  linen,  brushes,  shaving  appa- 
ratus, books,  trinkets,  and  other  baggage.  He  likcAvise  stuck  his  hands 
deep  into  his  pockets,  and  walked  the  deck  with  his  nostrils  dilated,  as 
already  inhaling  the  air  of  Freedom  which  carries  death  to  all  tyrants, 
and  can  never  (under  any  circumstances  worth  mentioning)  be  breathed 
by  slaves.  An  English  gentleman  who  was  strongly  suspected  of  having 
run  away  from  a  bank,  with  something  in  his  possession  belonging  to  its 
strong-box  besides  the  key,  grew  eloquent  upon  the  subject  of  the  rights 
of  man,  and  hummed  the  Marseillaise  Hymn  constantly.  In  a  word,  one 
great  sensation  pervaded  the  whole  ship,  and  the  soil  of  America  lay 
close  before  them  :  so  close  at  last,  that,  upon  a  certain  starlight  night, 
they  took  a  pilot  on  board,  and  within  a  few  hours  afterwards  lay  to 
until  the  morning,  awaiting  the  arrival  of  a  steam-boat  in  which  the 
passengers  were  to  be  conveyed  ashore. 

Off  she  came,  soon  after  it  was  light  next  morning,  and,  lying  along- 
side an  hour  or  more — during  which  period  her  very  firemen  were 
objects  of  hardly  less  interest  and  curiosity,  than  if  they  had  been  so 
many  angels,  good  or  bad — took  all  her  living  freight  aboard.  Among 
them,  Mark,  who  still  had  his  friend  and  her  three  children  under  his 
close  protection  ;  and  Martin,  who  had  once  more  dressed  himself  in  his 
usual  attire,  but  wore  a  soiled,  old  cloak  above  his  ordinary  clothes, 
until  such  time  as  he  should  separate  for  ever  from  his  late  companions. 

The  steamer — which,  with  its  machinery  on  deck,  looked,  as  it 
worked  its  long  slim  legs,  like  some  enormously  magnified  insect  or 
antediluvian  monster — dashed  at  great  speed  up  a  beautiful  bay  ;  and 
presently  they  saw  some  heights,  and  islands,  and  a  long,  flat,  straggling 
city. 

"  And  this,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  looking  far  ahead,  "  is  the  Land  of 
Liberty,  is  it  ?  Very  well.  I'm  agreeable.  Any  land  will  do  for  me, 
after  so  much  water  !" 


MARTIN    CHTIZZLEWIT.  193 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MARTIN  DISEMBARKS  FROM  THAT  NOBLE  AND  FAST-SAILING  LINE  OF 
PACKET  SHIP,  THE  SCREW,  AT  THE  PORT  OF  NEW  YORK,  IN  THE 
UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA.  HE  MAKES  SOME  ACQUAINTANCES,  AND 
DINES  AT  A  BOARDING-HOUSE.  THE  PARTICULARS  OF  THOSE  TRANS- 
ACTIONS. 

Some  trifling  excitement  prevailed  upon  the  very  brink  and  margin 
of  the  land  of  liberty ;  for  an  alderman  had  been  elected  the  day  before ; 
and  Party  Feeling  naturally  running  rather  high  on  such  an  exciting 
occasion,  the  friends  of  the  disappointed  candidate  had  found  it  neces- 
sary to  assert  the  great  principles  of  Purity  of  Election  and  Freedom  of 
Opinion  by  breaking  a  few  legs  and  arms,  and  furthermore  pursuing  one 
obnoxious  gentleman  through  the  streets  with  the  design  of  slitting  his 
nose.  These  good-humoured  little  outbursts  of  the  popular  fancy  were 
not  in  themselves  sufficiently  remarkable  to  create  any  great  stir,  after 
the  lapse  of  a  whole  night;  but  they  found  fresh  life  and  notoriety  in 
the  breath  of  the  news-boys,  who  not  only  proclaimed  them  with  shrill 
yells  in  all  the  highways  and  byeways  of  the  town,  upon  the  wharves  and 
among  the  shipping,  but  on  the  deck  and  down  in  the  cabins  of  the 
steam-boat;  which,  before  she  touched  the  shore,  was  boarded  and  over- 
run by  a  legion  of  those  young  citizens. 

"  Here's  this  morning's  New  York  Sewer!"  cried  one.  "  Here's  this 
morning's  New  York  Stabber!  Here's  the  New  York  Family  Spy! 
Here's  the  New  York  Private  Listener !  Here's  the  New  York  Peeper ! 
Here's  the  New  York  Plunderer!  Here's  the  New  York  Keyhole  Re- 
porter! Here's  the  New  York  Rowdy  Journal!  Here's  all  the  New 
York  papers !  Here's  full  particulars  of  the  patriotic  loco-foco  move- 
ment yesterday,  in  which  the  whigs  was  so  chawed  up ;  and  the  last 
Alabama  gouging  case  ;  and  the  interesting  Arkansas  dooel  with  Bowie 
knives ;  and  all  the  Political,  Commercial,  and  Fashionable  News. 
Here  they  are  !     Here  they  are!     Here's  the  papers,  here's  the  papers  !" 

"  Here's  the  Sewer !  "  cried  another.  "  Here's  the  New  York  Sewer  ! 
Here's  some  of  the  twelfth  thousand  of  to-day's  Sewer,  with  the  best  ac- 
counts of  the  markets,  and  all  the  shipping  news,  and  four  whole 
columns  of  country  correspondence,  and  a  full  account  of  the  Ball  at 
Mrs.  White's  last  night,  where  all  the  beauty  and  fashion  of  New  York 
was  assembled,  with  the  Sewer's  own  particulars  of  the  private  lives  of 
all  the  ladies  that  was  there !  Here's  the  Sewer !  Here's  some  of  the 
twelfth  thousand  of  the  New  York  Sewer !  Here's  the  Sewer's  exposure 
of  the  Wall  Street  Gang,  and  the  Sewer's  exposure  of  the  Washington 
Gang,  and  the  Sewer's  exclusive  account  of  a  ilagrant  act  of  dishonesty 
committed  by  the  Secretary  of  State  when  he  was  eight  years  old  ;  now 
communicated,  at  a  great  expense,  by  his  own  nurse.  Here's  the  Sewer ! 
Here's  the  New  York  Sewer,  in  its  twelfth  thousand,  with   a  whole 

o 


194  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

column  of  New  Yorkers  to  be  shown  up,  and  all  their  names  printed  t 
Here's  the  Sewer's  article  upon  the  Judge  that  tried  him,  day  afore 
yesterday,  for  libel,  and  the  Sewer's  tribute  to  the  independent  Jury 
that  didn't  convict  him,  and  the  Sewer's  account  of  what  they  might 
have  expected  if  they  had !  Here's  the  Sewer,  here's  the  Sewer !  Here's 
the  wide-awake  Sewer ;  always  on  the  look-out ;  the  leading  Journal 
of  the  United  States,  now  in  its  twelfth  thousand,  and  still  a  printing 
off: — Here's  the  New  York  Sewer!" 

"  It  is  in  such  enlightened  means,"  said  a  voice,  almost  in  Martin's 
ear,  "  that  the  bubbling  passions  of  my  country  find  a  vent." 

Martin  turned  involuntarily,  and  saw,  standing  close  at  his  side,  a 
sallow  gentleman,  with  sunken  cheeks,  black  hair,  small  twinkling  eyes, 
and  a  singular  expression  hovering  about  that  region  of  his  face,  which 
was  not  a  frown,  nor  a  leer,  and  yet  might  have  been  mistaken  at  the 
first  glance  for  either.  Indeed  it  would  have  been  difficult  on  a  much 
closer  acquaintance,  to  describe  it  in  any  more  satisfactory  terms  than  as 
a  mixed  expression  of  vulgar  cunning  and  conceit.  This  gentleman 
wore  a  rather  broad-brimmed  hat  for  the  greater  wisdom  of  his  appear- 
ance ;  and  had  his  arms  folded  for  the  greater  impressiveness  of  his  atti- 
tude. He  was  somewhat  shabbily  dressed  in  a  blue  surtout  reaching 
nearly  to  his  ancles,  short  loose  trousers  of  the  same  colour,  and  a 
faded  buff  waistcoat,  through  which  a  discoloured  shirt-frill  struggled  to 
force  itself  into  notice,  as  asserting  an  equality  of  civil  rights  with  the 
other  portions  of  his  dress,  and  maintaining  a  declaration  of  Indepen- 
dence on  its  own  account.  His  feet,  which  were  of  unusually  large  pro- 
portions, were  leisurely  crossed  before  him  as  he  half  leaned  against,  half 
sat  upon,  the  steam-boat's  side;  and  his  thick  cane,  shod  with  a  mighty 
ferrule  at  one  end  and  armed  with  a  great  metal  knob  at  the  other,  de- 
pended from  a  line-and-tassel  on  his  wrist.  Thus  attired,  and  thus  com- 
posed into  an  aspect  of  great  profundity,  the  gentleman  twitched  up  the 
right-hand  corner  of  his  mouth  and  his  right  eye,  simultaneously,  and 
said,  once  more: 

"  It  is  in  such  enlightened  means,  that  the  bubbling  passions  of  my 
country  find  a  vent." 

As  he  looked  at  Martin,  and  nobody  else  was  by,  Martin  inclined  his 
head,  and  said : 

"  You  allude  to—" 

"  To  the  Palladium  of  rational  Liberty  at  home,  sir,  and  the  dread  of 
Poreign  oppression  abroad,"  returned  the  gentleman,  as  he  pointed  with 
his  cane  to  an  uncommonly  dirty  news-boy  with  one  eye.  "  To  the  Envy  of 
the  world,  sir,  and  the  leaders  of  Human  Civilisation.  Let  me  ask  you, 
sir,"  he  added,  bringing  the  ferrule  of  his  stick  heavily  upon  the  deck 
with  the  air  of  a  man  who  must  not  be  equivocated  with,  "  how  do  you 
like  my  Country  ?" 

"  I  am  hardly  prepared  to  answer  that  question  yet,"  said  Martin, 
"  seeing  that  I  have  not  been  ashore." 

"  Well,  I  should  expect  you  were  not  prepared,  sir,"  said  the  gentle- 
man, "  to  behold  such  signs  of  National  Prosperity  as  those  ?" 

He  pointed  to  the  vessels  lying  at  the  wharves;  and  then  gave  a  vague 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  195 

flourish  with  his  stick,  as  if  he  would  include  the  air  and  water,  gene- 
rally, in  this  remark. 

"  Really,"  said  Martin,  "  I  don't  know.     Yes.     I  think  I  was." 

The  gentleman  glanced  at  him  with  a  knowing  look,  and  said  he 
liked  his  policy.  It  was  natural,  he  said,  and  it  pleased  him  as  a  phi- 
losopher to  observe  the  prejudices  of  human  nature. 

"  You  have  brought,  I  see,  sir,"  he  said,  turning  round  towards  Martin, 
and  resting  his  chin  on  the  top  of  his  stick,  "  the  usual  amount  of  misery 
and  poverty,  and  ignorance  and  crime,  to  be  located  in  the  bosom  of  the 
Great  Republic.  Well,  sir !  let  'em  come  on  in  ship-loads  from  the 
old  country  :  when  vessels  are  about  to  founder,  the  rats  are  said  to 
leave  'em.     There  is  considerable  of  truth,  I  find,  in  that  remark." 

"  The  old  ship  will  keep  afloat  a  year  or  two  longer  yet,  perhaps," 
said  Martin  with  a  smile,  partly  occasioned  by  what  the  gentleman  said, 
and  partly  by  his  manner  of  saying  it,  which  was  odd  enough,  for  he 
emphasized  all  the  small  words  and  syllables  in  his  discourse,  and  left 
the  others  to  take  care  of  themselves  :  as  if  he  thought  the  larger  parts 
of  speech  could  be  trusted  alone,  but  the  little  ones  required  to  be  con- 
stantly looked  after. 

"  Hope  is  said  by  the  poet,  sir,"  observed  the  gentleman,  '•'  to  be  the 
nurse  of  Young  Desire." 

Martin  signified  that  he  had  heard  of  the  cardinal  virtue  in  question 
serving  occasionally  in  that  domestic  capacity. 

"  She  will  not  rear  her  infant  in  the  present  instance,  sir,  you'll  find," 
observed  the  gentleman. 

^•'  Time  will  show,"  said  Martin. 

The  gentleman  nodded  his  head,  gravely ;  and  said  "  What  is  your 
name,  sir?" 

Martin  told  him. 

"  How  old  are  you,  sir  ?" 

Martin  told  him. 

"  What 's  your  profession,  sir  1" 

Martin  told  him  that,  also. 

"  What  is  your  destination,  sir  ?"  inquired  the  gentleman. 

"  Really,"  said  Martin,  laughing,  "  I  can't  satisfy  you  in  that  par- 
ticular, for  I  don't  know  it  myself." 

"  Yes  ?"  said  the  gentleman. 

«  No,"  said  Martin. 

The  gentleman  adjusted  his  cane  under  his  left  arm,  and  took  a  more 
deliberate  and  complete  survey  of  Martin  than  he  had  yet  had  leisure 
to  make.  When  he  had  completed  his  inspection,  he  put  out  his  right 
hand,  shook  Martin's  hand,  and  said  : 

"  My  name  is  Colonel  Diver,  sir.  I  am  the  Editor  of  the  New  York 
Rowdy  Journal." 

Martin  received  the  communication  with  that  degree  of  respect  which 
an  announcement  so  distinguished  appeared  to  demand. 

"  The  New  York  Rowdy  Journal,  sir,"  resumed  the  colonel,  "  is,  as  I 
expect  you  know,  the  organ  of  our  aristocracy  in  this  city." 

"  Oh  !  there  is  an  aristocracy  here,  then  ?"  said  Martin.  "  Of  what  is 
it  composed  f  o  2 


196  LIFE    AND    ADYENTUHES    OF 

'•  Of  intelligence,  sir,"  replied  the  colonel ;  '•  of  intelligence  and  virtue. 
And  of  tlieir  necessary  consequence  in  this  republic — dollars,  sir." 

Martin  was  very  glad  to  hear  this,  feeling  well  assured  that  if  intelli- 
gence and  virtue  led,  as  a  matter  of  course,  to  the  acquisition  of  dollars, 
he  would  speedily  become  a  great  capitalist,  lie  was  about  to  express 
the  gratification  such  news  afforded  him,  v,'hen  he  was  interrupted  by 
the  captain  of  the  ship,  who  came  up  at  the  moment  to  shake  hands 
with  the  colonel ;  and  who,  seeing  a  well-dressed  stranger  on  the  deck 
(for  Martin  had  thrown  aside  his  cloak),  shook  hands  with  him  also. 
This  was  an  unspeakable  relief,  to  Martin,  who,  in  spite  of  the  acknow- 
ledged supremacy  of  Intelligence  and  Virtue  in  that  happy  countr}-, 
would  have  been  deeply  mortified  to  appear  before  Colonel  Diver  in  the 
poor  character  of  a  steerage  passenger. 

"  Well,  cap'en  !"  said  the  colonel. 

"  Well,  colonel  1"  cried  the  captain.  "  You're  looking  most  uncom- 
mon bright,  sir.     I  can  hardly  realise  its  being  you,  and  that's  a  fact." 

"  A  good  passage,  cap'en  ?"  inquired  the  colonel,  taking  him  aside. 

"Well  now !  It  was  a  pretty  spanking  run,  sir,"  said,  or  rather  sung,  tlie 
captain,  who  was  a  genuine  New  Englander  :  "  con-siderin  the  weather." 

"  Yes  1 "  said  the  colonel. 

"  Well !  It  was,  sir,"  said  the  captain.  "  I've  just  now  sent  a  boy 
up  to  your  office  with  the  passenger-list,  colonel." 

"  You  haven't  got  another  boy  to  spare,  p'raps,  cap'en  ?"  said  the 
colonel,  in  a  tone  almost  amounting  to  severity. 

"  I  guess  there  air  a  dozen  if  you  Avant  'em,  colonel,"  said  the  captain. 

"  One  moderate  big  'un  could  convey  a  dozen  of  champagne,  perhaps" 
observed  the  colonel,  musing,  "  to  my  office.  You  said  a  spanking  run, 
I  think  r 

"  Well !  so  I  did,"  was  the  reply. 

"  It's  very  nigh  you  know,"  observed  the  colonel.  "  I'm  glad  it  was 
a  spanking  run,  cap'en.  Don't  mind  about  quarts  if  you're  short  of  'em. 
The  boy  can  as  well  bring  four-and-twenty  pints,  and  travel  twice  as 
once. — A  first-rate  spanker,  cap'en,  was  it  ?     Yes  ?" 

"  A  most  e — tarnal  spanker,"  said  the  skipper. 

"  I  admire  at  your  good  fortune,  cap'en.  You  might  loan  me  a 
cork-screw  at  the  same  time,  and  half-a-dozen  glasses  if  you  liked. 
However  bad  the  elements  combine  against  my  country's  noble  packet- 
ship  the  Screw,  sir,"  said  the  colonel,  turning  to  Martin,  and  drawing  a 
flourish  on  the  surface  of  the  deck  with  his  cane,  "  her  passage  either 
way,  is  almost  certain  to  eventuate  a  spanker  ! " 

The  captain,  who  had  the  Sewer  below  at  that  moment  lunching 
expensively  in  one  cabin,  while  the  amiable  Stabber  was  drinking  him- 
self into  a  state  of  blind  madness  in  another,  took  a  cordial  leave  of 
his  friend  and  captain  the  colonel,  and  hurried  away  to  despatch  the 
champagne  :  well-knowing  (as  it  afterwards  appeared)  that  if  he  failed 
to  conciliate  the  editor  of  the  Rowdy  Journal,  that  potentate  would 
denounce  him  and  his  ship  in  large  capitals  before  he  was  a  day  older ; 
and  would  probably  assault  the  memory  of  his  mother  also,  who  had 
not  been  dead  more  than  twenty  years.     The  colonel  being  again  left 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  197 

alone  with  Martin,  cliecked  him  as  he  was  moving  away,  and  offered,  in 
consideration  of  his  being  an  Englishman,  to  show  him  the  town  and  to 
introduce  him,  if  such  were  his  desire,  to  a  genteel  boarding-house. 
But  before  they  entered  on  these  proceedings  (he  said),  he  would  beseech 
the  honor  of  his  company  at  the  office  of  the  Rowdy  Journal,  to  partake 
of  a  bottle  of  champagne  of  his  own  importation. 

All  this  was  so  extremely  kind  and  hospitable,  that  Martin,  though 
it  was  quite  early  in  the  morning,  readily  acquiesced.  So,  instructing 
Mark,  who  was  deeply  engaged  with  his  friend  and  her  three  children, — 
when  he  had  done  assisting  them,  and  had  cleared  the  baggage,  to 
wait  for  farther  orders  at  the  Rowdy  Journal  Office, — he  accompanied 
his   new  friend  on  shore. 

They  made  their  way  as  they  best  could  through  the  melancholy 
crowd  of  emigrants  upon  the  wharf — who,  grouped  about  tlieir  beds 
and  boxes  with  the  bare  ground  below  them  and  the  bare  sky  above, 
might  have  fallen  from  another  planet,  for  anything  they  knew  of  the 
country — and  walked  for  some  short  distance  along  a  busy  street, 
bounded  on  one  side  by  the  quays  and  shipping ;  and  on  the  other 
by  a  long  row  of  staring  red-brick  storehouses  and  offices,  ornamented 
with  more  black  boards  and  white  letters,  and  more  white  boards  and 
black  letters,  than  Martin  had  ever  seen  before,  in  fifty  times  the  space. 
Presently  they  turned  up  a  narrow  street,  and  presently  into  other 
narrow  streets,  until  at  last  they  stopped  before  a  house  whereon  was 
painted  in  great  characters,  "  Rowdy  Journal." 

The  colonel,  who  had  walked  the  whole  way  with  one  hand  in  his 
breast,  his  head  occasionally  wagging  from  side  to  side,  and  his  hat 
thrown  back  upon  his  ears — ^like  a  man  who  was  oppressed  to  inconve- 
nience by  a  sense  of  his  own  greatness — led  the  way  up  a  dark  and 
dirty  flight  of  stairs  into  a  room  of  similar  character,  all  littered  and 
bestrewn  with  odds  and  ends  of  newspapers  and  other  crumpled  frag- 
ments, both  in  proof  and  manuscript.  Behind  a  mangy  old  writing- 
table  in  this  apartment,  sat  a  figure  with  the  stump  of  a  pen  in  its 
mouth  and  a  great  pair  of  scissors  in  its  right  hand,  clipping  and  slicing 
at  a  file  of  Rowdy  Journals  ;  and  it  was  such  a  laughable  figure  that 
Martin  had  some  difficulty  in  preserving  his  gravity,  though  conscious 
of  the  close  observation  of  Colonel  Diver. 

The  individual  who  sat  clipping  and  slicing  as  aforesaid  at  the 
Rowdy  Journals,  was  a  small  young  gentleman  of  very  juvenile  appear- 
ance, and  unwholesomely  pale  in  the  face  ;  partly,  perhaps,  from  intense 
thought,  but  partly,  there  is  no  doubt,  from  the  excessive  use  of  tobacco, 
which  he  was  at  that  moment  chewing  vigorously.  He  wore  his  shirt- 
collar  turned  do^^Ti  over  a  black  ribbon,  and  his  lank  hair — a  fragile  crop 
— was  not  only  smoothed  and  parted  back  from  his  brow,  that  none  of 
the  Poetry  of  his  aspect  might  be  lost,  but  had  here  and  there  been 
grubbed  up  by  the  roots  ;  which  accounted  for  his  loftiest  developments 
being  somewhat  pimply.  He  had  that  order  of  nose  on  which  the  envy 
of  mankind  has  bestowed  the  appellation  "  snub,"  and  it  was  very  much 
turned  up  at  the  end,  as  with  a  lofty  scorn.  Upon  the  upper  lip  of  this 
young  gentleman,  were  tokens  of  a  sandy  down — so  very,  very  smooth 


'/F/l(^Aot)-^i^J  a^?i  ^z^^^>:^^>^ii<^>^r;/^,i^;/'/'/^'>^/. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  199 

"  That's  what  I  was  about  to  observe,  certainly, "  said  Martin. 

"  Keep  cool,  Jefferson,"  said  the  colonel  gravely.  "  Don't  bust !  oh 
you  Europeans  !  Arter  that,  let's  have  a  glass  of  wine  1"  So  saying,  he 
got  down  from  the  table,  and  produced  from  a  basket  outside  the  door, 
a  bottle  of  champagne,  and  three  glasses. 

"  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick,  sir,"  said  the  colonel,  filling  Martin's  glass  and 
his  own,  and  pushing  the  bottle  to  that  gentleman,  "  will  give  us  a 
sentiment." 

'•  Well  sir  I"  cried  the  war  correspondent,  "  since  you  have  concluded 
to  call  upon  me,  I  will  respond.  I  will  give  you,  sir.  The  Kowdy  Journal 
and  its  bretheren  ;  the  well  of  Truth,  whose  waters  are  black  from  being 
composed  of  printers'  ink,  but  are  quite  clear  enough  for  my  country  to 
behold  the  shadow  of  her  Destiny  reflected  in." 

"  Hear,  hear  !"  cried  the  colonel,  with  great  complacency.  "  There  are 
flowery  components,  sir,  in  the  language  of  my  friend  1 " 

"  Very  much  so,  indeed,"  said  Martin. 

"  There  is  to-day's  Rowdy,  sir,"  observed  the  colonel,  handing  him  a 
paper.  "  You'll  find  Jefferson  Brick  at  his  usual  post  in  the  van  of 
human  civilisation  and  moral  purity." 

The  colonel  was  by  this  time  seated  on  the  table  again.  i\Ir.  Brick 
also  took  up  a  position  on  that  same  piece  of  furniture ;  and  they  fell  to 
drinking  pretty  hard.  They  often  looked  at  Martin  as  he  read  the 
paper,  and  then  at  each  other  ;  and  when  he  laid  it  down,  which  was 
not  until  they  had  finished  a  second  bottle,  the  colonel  asked  him  what 
he  thought  of  it. 

"  Why,  it's  horribly  personal,"  said  Martin. 

The  colonel  seemed  much  flattered  by  this  remark;  and  said  he  hoped 
it  was. 

"  We  are  independent  here,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick.  '•'  We  do 
as  we  like." 

"  If  I  may  judge  from  this  specimen,"  returned  Martin,  "there  must 
be  a  few  thousands  here  rather  the  reverse  of  independent,  who  do  as 
they  don't  like." 

'■'  Well  !  They  yield  to  the  mighty  mind  of  the  Popular  Instructor, 
sir,"  said  the  colonel.  "  They  rile  up,  sometimes  ;  but  in  general  we 
have  a  hold  upon  our  citizens  both  in  public  and  in  private  life,  which 
is  as  much  one  of  the  ennobling  institutions  of  our  happy  country  as  — " 

"  As  nigger  slavery  itself,"  suggested  ]\Ir.  Brick. 

"  Ea — tirely  so,"  remarked  the  colonel. 

"  Pray,"  said  Martin,  after  some  hesitation,  "  may  I  venture  to  ask, 
wdth  reference  to  a  case  I  observe  in  this  paper  of  yours,  whether  the 
Popular  Instructor  often  deals  in — I  am  at  a  loss  to  express  it  without 
giving  you  offence — in  forgery  1  In  forged  letters,  for  instance,"  he  pur- 
sued, for  the  colonel  was  perfectly  calm  and  quite  at  his  ease,  '•  solemnly 
purporting  to  have  been  written  at  recent  periods  by  living  men  V 

"  Well,  sir  ! "  replied  the  colonel.     "  It  does,  now  and  then." 

"  And  the  popular  instructed — what  do  they  do  I"  asked  Martin. 

"  Buy  'em  ;  "  said  the  colonel. 

Mr.  Jefferson  Brick  expectorated  and  laughed ;  the  former  copiously, 
the  latter  approvingly. 


200  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Buy  'em  by  hundreds  of  tliousands,"  resumed  tlie  colonel.  "  We 
are  a  smart  people  here,  and  can  appreciate  smartness." 

"  Is  smartness  American  for  forgery  1 ''  asked  Martin. 

"  Well  ! "  said  the  colonel,  "  I  expect  it's  American  for  a  good  many 
things  that  you  call  by  other  names.  But  you  can't  help  yourselves 
in  Europe.     We  can." 

"  And  do,  sometimes,"  thought  Martin.  "  You  help  yourselves  with 
very  little  ceremony,  too  !" 

"  At  all  events,  whatever  name  we  choose  to  employ,"  said  the  colonel, 
stooping  down  to  roll  the  third  empty  bottle  into  a  corner  after  the 
other  two,  "  I  suppose  the  art  of  forgery  was  not  invented  here,  sir?" 

"  I  suppose  not,"  replied  Martin. 

"Nor  any  other  kind  of  smartness,  I  reckon  V 

"  Invented  !  No,  I  presume  not." 

"  Well  !"  said  the  colonel ;  "  then  we  got  it  all  from  the  old  country, 
and  the  old  country's  to  blame  for  it,  and  not  the  new  'un.  There 's  an 
end  of  t/mt.  Now  if  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick  and  you  will  be  so  good  as 
clear,  I'll  come  out  last,  and  lock  the  door." 

Rightly  interpreting  this  as  the  signal  for  their  departure,  Martin 
walked  down  stairs  after  the  war  correspondent,  who  preceded  him  with 
great  majesty.  The  colonel  following,  they  left  the  Rowdy  Journal  Office 
and  walked  forth  into  the  streets  :  Martin  feeling  doubtful  whether 
he  ought  to  kick  the  colonel  for  having  presumed  to  speak  to  him, 
or  whether  it  came  within  the  bounds  of  possibility  that  he  and  his 
establishment  could  be  among  the  boasted  usages  of  that  regenerated 
land. 

It  was  clear  that  Colonel  Diver,  in  the  security  of  his  strong  position, 
and  in  his  perfect  understanding  of  the  public  sentiment,  cared  very 
little  what  Martin  or  anybody  else  thought  about  him.  His  high-spiced 
wares  were  made  to  sell,  and  they  sold  ;  and  his  thousands  of  readers 
could  as  rationally  charge  their  delight  in  filth  upon  him,  as  a  glutton 
can  shift  upon  his  cook  the  responsibility  of  his  beastly  excess.  Nothing 
would  have  delighted  the  colonel  more  than  to  be  told  that  no  such 
man  as  he  could  walk  in  high  success  the  streets  of  any  other  country 
in  the  world :  for  that  would  only  have  been  a  logical  assurance  to  him 
of  the  correct  adaptation  of  his  labours  to  the  prevailing  taste,  and  of 
his  being  strictly  and  peculiarly  a  national  feature  of  America. 

They  walked  a  mile  or  more  along  a  handsome  street  which  the 
colonel  said  was  called  Broadway,  and  which  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick  said 
"  whipped  the  universe."  Turning,  at  length,  into  one  of  the  numerous 
streets  which  branched  from  this  main  thoroughfare,  they  stopped  before 
a  rather  mean-looking  house  with  jalousie  blinds  to  every  windovr;  a 
flight  of  steps  before  the  green  street-door  ;  a  shining  white  ornament 
on  the  rails  on  either  side  like  a  petrified  pine-apple,  polished ;  a  little 
oblong  plate  of  the  same  material  over  the  knocker,  whereon  the  name 
of  "  Pawkins"  was  engraved  ;  and  four  accidental  pigs  looking  down  the 
area. 

The  colonel  knocked  at  this  house  with  the  air  of  a  man  who  lived 
there ;  and  an  Irish  girl  popped  her  head  out  of  one  of  the  top  win- 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  201 

dows  to  see  -who  it  was.  Pending  her  journey  dovm.  stairs,  the  pigs 
were  joined  by  two  or  three  friends  from  the  next  street,  in  company 
with  whom  they  lay  down  sociably  in  the  gutter. 

"  Is  the  major  in-doors  ?"  inquired  the  colonel,  as  he  entered. 

"Is  it  the  master,  sir?"  returned  the  girl,  with  a  hesitation  which 
seemed  to  imply  that  they  were  rather  flush  of  majors  in  that  establish- 
ment. 

"  The  master  !"  said  Colonel  Diver,  stopping  short  and  looking  round 
at  his  war  correspondent. 

"  Oh  !  The  depressing  institutions  of  that  British  empire,  colonel ! " 
said  Jeiferson  Brick,      "  Master  !" 

"What's  the  matter  with  the  word?"  asked  Martin. 

"  I  should  hope  it  was  never  heard  in  our  country,  sir  :  that's  all," 
said  Jeiferson  Brick  :  "  except  when  it  is  used  by  some  degraded  Help, 
as  new  to  the  blessings  of  our  form  of  government,  as  this  Help  is. 
There  are  no  masters  here." 

"All  '  owners,' are  they  ?"  said  Martin. 

Mr.  Jefferson  Brick  followed  in  the  Kovv'dy  Journal's  footsteps  without 
returning  any  answer.  Martin  took  the  same  course,  thinking  as  he 
went,  that  perhaps  the  free  and  independent  citizens,  who  in  their 
moral  elevation,  owned  the  colonel  for  their  master,  might  render  better 
homage  to  the  goddess.  Liberty,  in  nightly  dreams  upon  the  oven  of  a 
Russian  Serf. 

The  colonel  led  the  way  into  a  room  at  the  back  of  the  house  upon 
the  ground-floor,  light,  and  of  fair  dimensions,  but  exquisitely  uncom- 
fortable :  having  nothing  in  it  but  the  four  cold  white  Avails  and  ceiling, 
a  mean  carpet,  a  dreary  waste  of  dining-table  reaching  from  end  to  end, 
and  a  bewllderlno-  collection  of  cane-bottomed  chairs.  In  the  further 
region  of  this  banqueting-hall  was  a  stove,  garnished  on  either  side 
Avith  a  great  brass  spittoon,  and  shaped  in  itself  like  three  little  iron 
barrels  set  up  on  end  in  a  fender,  and  joined  together  on  the  principle 
of  the  Siamese  Twins.  Before  it,  swinging  himself  in  a  rocking-chair, 
lounged  a  large  gentleman  with  his  hat  on,  who  amused  himself  by 
spitting  alternately  into  the  spittoon  on  the  right  hand  the  stove,  and 
the  spittoon  on  the  left,  and  then  working  his  way  back  again  in  the 
same  order.  A  negro  lad  in  a  soiled  white  jacket  was  busily  engaged  in 
placing  on  the  table  two  long  rows  of  knives  and  forks,  relieved  at  inter- 
vals by  jugs  of  water ;  and  as  he  travelled  down  one  side  of  this  festive 
board,  he  straightened  with  his  dirty  hands  the  dirtier  cloth,  which  was  all 
askew,  and  had  not  been  removed  since  breakfast.  The  atmosphere  of 
this  room  was  rendered  intensely  hot  and  stifling  by  the  stove  :  but 
being  further  flavoured  by  a  sickly  gush  of  soup  from  the  kitchen,  and  by 
such  remote  suggestions  of  tobacco  as  lingered  within  the  brazen  recep- 
tacles already  mentioned,  it  became,  to  a  stranger's  senses,  almost 
insupportable. 

The  gentleman  in  the  rocking-chair  having  his  back  towards  them, 
and  being  much  engaged  in  his  intellectual  pastime,  was  not  aware  of 
their  approach  until  the  colonel  walking  up  to  the  stove,  contributed  his 
mite  towards  the  support  of  the  left-hand  spittoon,  just  as  the  major — 


202  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES   OF 

for  it  was  the  major — bore  down  upon  it.  Major  Pawkins  tlien  reserved  his 
fire,  and  looking  upward,  said,  with  a  peculiar  air  of  quiet  weariness,  like 
a  man  who  had  been  up  all  night — an  air  which  Martin  had  already 
observed  both  in  the  colonel  and  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick — 

"  Well,  colonel  !  " 

"  Here  is  a  gentleman  from  England,  major,"  the  colonel  replied, 
*'who  has  concluded  to  locate  himself  here  if  the  amount  of  compensa- 
tion suits  him." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,  sir,"  observed  the  major,  shaking  hands  with 
Martin,  and  not  moving  a  muscle  of  his  face.  "  You  are  pretty  bright, 
I  hope?" 

"  Never  better,"  said  Martin. 

"You  are  never  likely  to  be,"  returned  the  major.  "  You  will  see 
the  sun  shine  hereT 

"  I  think  I  remember  to  have  seen  it  shine  at  home,  sometimes,"  said 
Martin,  smiling. 

"I  think  not,"  replied  the  major.  He  said  so  with  a  stoical  indif- 
ference certainly,  but  still  in  a  tone  of  firmness  which  admitted  of  no 
further  dispute  on  that  point.  When  he  had  thus  settled  the  question, 
he  put  his  hat  a  little  on  one  side  for  the  greater  convenience  of  scratching 
his  head,  and  saluted  Mr.  Jefierson  Brick  with  a  lazy  nod. 

Major  Pawkins  (a  gentleman  of  Pennsylvanian  origin)  was  distin- 
guished by  a  very  large  skull,  and  a  great  mass  of  yellow  forehead ; 
in  deference  to  which  commodities,  it  was  currently  held  in  bar-rooms 
and  other  such  places  of  resort,  that  the  major  was  a  man  of  huge 
sagacity.  He  was  further  to  be  known  by  a  heavy  eye  and  a  dull  slow 
manner ;  and  for  being  a  man  of  that  kind  who — mentally  speaking — 
requires  a  deal  of  room  to  turn  himself  in.  But  in  trading  on  his  stock 
of  wisdom,  he  invariably  proceeded  on  the  principle  of  putting  all  the 
goods  he  had  (and  more)  into  his  window  ;  and  that  went  a  great  way 
with  his  constituency  of  admirers.  It  went  a  great  way,  perhaps,  with 
Mr.  Jefferson  Brick,  who  took  occasion  to  whisper  in  Martin's  ear ; 

"  One  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  our  country,  sir  ! " 

It  must  not  be  supposed,  however,  that  the  perpetual  exhibition  in 
the  market-place  of  all  his  stock  in  trade  for  sale  or  hire,  was  the 
major's  sole  claim  to  a  very  large  share  of  sympathy  and  support.  He 
was  a  great  politician  ;  and  the  one  article  of  his  creed,  in  reference  to 
all  public  obligations  involving  the  good  faith  and  integrity  of  his 
country,  was,  "  run  a  moist  pen  slick  through  everything,  and  start  fresh." 
This  made  him  a  patriot.  In  commercial  affairs  he  was  a  bold  specu- 
lator. In  plainer  words  he  had  a  most  distinguished  genius  for  swindling, 
and  could  start  a  bank,  or  negociate  a  loan,  or  form  a  land-jobbing  com- 
pany (entailing  ruin,  pestilence,  and  death,  on  hundreds  of  families), 
with  any  gifted  creature  in  the  Union.  This  made  him  an  admirable 
man  of  business.  He  could  hang  about  a  bar-room,  discussing  the 
affairs  of  the  nation,  for  twelve  hours  together ;  and  in  that  time  could 
hold  forth  with  more  intolerable  dulness,  chew  more  tobacco,  smoke 
more  tobacco,  drink  more  rum-toddy,  mint-julep,  gin-sling,  and  cocktail, 
than  any  private  gentleman  of  his  acquaintance.     This  made  him  an 


MAETIN   CHIJZZLEWIT.  203 

orator  and  a  man  of  the  people.  In  a  word,  the  major  was  a  rising 
character,  and  a  popular  character,  and  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  sent  by 
the  popular  party  to  the  State  House  of  New  York,  if  not  in  the  end 
to  Washington  itself.  But  as  a  man's  private  prosperity  does  not 
always  keep  pace  with  his  patriotic  devotion  to  public  affairs  ;  and  as 
fraudulent  transactions  have  their  downs  as  Avell  as  ups  ;  the  major  was 
occasionally  under  a  cloud.  Hence,  just  now,  Mrs.  Pawkins  kept  a 
boarding-house,  and  Major  Pawkins  rather  "  loafed  "  his  time  away, 
than  otherwise. 

"  You  have  come  to  visit  our  country,  sir,  at  a  season  of  great  com- 
mercial depression,"  said  the  major. 

"  At  an  alarming  crisis,"  said  the  colonel. 

"  At  a  period  of  unprecedented  stagnation,"  said  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick. 

'•  I  am  sorry  to  hear  that,"  returned  Martin.     "  It's  not  likely  to  last, 

I  hope  r 

Martin  knew  nothing  about  America,  or  he  would  have  known 
perfectly  well  that  if  its  individual  citizens,  to  a  man,  are  to  be  believed, 
it  always  is  depressed,  and  always  is  stagnated,  and  always  is  at  an 
alarming  crisis,  and  never  was  otherwise ;  though  as  a  body  they  are 
ready  to  make  oath  upon  the  Evangelists  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night, 
that  it  is  the  most  thriving  and  prosperous  of  all  countries  on  the 
habitable  globe. 

"  It's  not  likely  to  last,  I  hope  V  said  Martin. 

"  Well  I"  returned  the  major,  "  I  expect  we  shall  get  along  somehow, 
and  come  right  in  the  end." 

"  We  are  an  elastic  country,"  said  the  Rowdy  Journal. 

"  We  are  a  young  lion,"  said  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick. 

"We  have  revivifying  and  vigorous  principles  within  ourselves," 
observed  the  major.     "  Shall  we  drink  a  bitter  afore  dinner,  colonel  ?" 

The  colonel  assenting  to  this  proposal  with  great  alacrity.  Major 
Pawkins  proposed  an  adjournment  to  a  neighbouring  bar-room,  which, 
as  he  observed,  was  '•  only  in  the  next  block."  He  then  referred  Martin 
to  Mrs.  Pawkins  for  all  particulars  connected  with  the  rate  of  board  and 
lodging,  and  informed  him  that  he  would  have  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
that  lady  at  dinner,  which  would  soon  be  ready,  as  the  dinner  hour  was 
two  o'clock,  and  it  only  wanted  a  quarter  now.  This  reminded  him  that 
if  the  bitter  were  to  be  taken  at  all,  there  was  no  time  to  lose  ;  so  he 
walked  off  without  more  ado,  and  left  them  to  follow  if  they  thought 
proper. 

When  the  major  rose  from  his  rocking-chair  before  the  stove  and 
so  disturbed  the  hot  air  and  balmy  whiff  of  soup  which  fanned  their 
brows,  the  odour  of  stale  tobacco  became  so  decidedly  prevalent  as  to 
leave  no  doubt  of  its  proceeding  mainly  from  that  gentleman's  attire. 
Indeed  as  Martin  walked  behind  him  to  the  bar-room,  he  could  not 
help  thinking  that  the  great  square  major,  in  his  listlessness  and 
languor,  looked  very  much  like  a  stale  weed  himself,  such  as  might  be 
hoed  out  of  the  public  garden  with  great  advantage  to  the  decent  growth, 
of  that  preserve,  and  tossed  on  some  congenial  dunghill. 

They  encountered  more  weeds  in  the  bar-room,  some  of  whom  (being 


204  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

thirsty  souls  as  well  as  dirty)  were  pretty  stale  in  one  sense,  and  pretty 
fresh  in  another.  Among  them  was  a  gentleman  who,  as  Martin 
gathered  from  the  conversation  that  took  place  over  the  bitter,  started 
that  afternoon  for  the  Far  West  on  a  six  months'  business  tour ;  and 
who,  as  his  outfit  and  equipment  for  this  journey,  had  just  such  another 
shiny  hat  and  just  such  another  little  pale  valise,  as  had  composed  the 
luggage  of  the  gentleman  who  came  from  England  in  the  Screw. 

They  were  walking  back  very  leisurely ;  Martin  arm-in-arm  with 
Mr,  Jefferson  Brick,  and  the  major  and  the  colonel  side-by-side  before 
them  ;  when,  as  they  came  within  ahouse  or  two  of  the  major's  residence, 
they  heard  a  bell  ringing  violently.  The  instant  this  sound  struck  upon 
their  ears,  the  colonel  and  the  major  darted  off,  dashed  up  the  steps  and 
in  at  the  street-door  (which  stood  ajar)  like  lunatics  ;  while  Mr.  Jeffer- 
son Brick,  detaching  his  arm  from  Martin's,  made  a  precipitate  dive  in 
the  same  direction,  and  vanished  also. 

"Good  Heaven!"  thought  Martin,  "the  premises  are  on  fire!  It 
was  an  alarm-bell !" 

But  there  was  no  smoke  to  be  seen,  nor  any  flame,  nor  was  there  any 
smell  of  fire.  As  Martin  faultered  on  the  pavement,  three  more  gentle- 
men, with  horror  and  agitation  depicted  in  their  faces,  came  plunging 
v/ildly  round  the  street  corner;  jostled  each  other  on  the  steps  ;  struggled 
for  an  instant ;  and  rushed  into  the  house  in  a  confused  heap  of  arms 
and  legs.  Unable  to  bear  it  any  longer,  Martin  followed.  Even  in  his 
rapid  progress,  he  was  run  down,  thrust  aside,  and  passed,  by  two  more 
gentlemen,  stark  mad,  as  it  appeared,  with  fierce  excitement. 

"Where  is  it?"  cried  Martin,  breathlessly,  to  a  negro  whom  he  en- 
countered in  the  passage. 

"  In  a  eatin  room  sa.     'Kernel  sa,  him  kept  a  seat  'side  himself  sa." 

"  A  seat  ! "  cried  Martin. 

"  For  a  dinnar  sa." 

Martin  stared  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh;  to 
which  the  negro,  out  of  his  natural  good  humour  and  desire  to  please,  so 
heartily  responded,  that  his  teeth  shone  like  a  gleam  of  light.  "  You're 
the  pleasantest  fellow  I  have  seen  yet,"  said  Martin,  clapping  him  on 
the  back,  "  and  give  me  a  better  appetite  than  bitters." 

V/ith  this  sentiment  he  walked  into  the  dining-room  and  slipped  into 
a  chair  next  the  colonel,  which  that  gentleman  (by  this  time  nearly 
through  his  dinner)  had  turned  down,  in  reserve  for  him,  with  its  baclc 
against  the  table. 

It  was  a  numerous  company — eighteen  or  twenty,  perhaps.  Of  these 
some  five  or  six  were  ladies,  who  sat  wedged  together  in  a  little  phalanx 
by  themselves.  All  the  knives  and  forks  were  working  away  at  a  rate 
that  was  quite  alarming  ;  very  few  words  were  spoken  ;  and  everybody 
seemed  to  eat  his  utmost  in  self-defence,  as  if  a  famine  were  expected  to 
set  in  before  breakfast  time  to-morrow  morning,  and  it  had  become  high 
time  to  assert  the  first  law  of  nature.  The  poultry,  which  may  perhaps  be 
considered  to  have  formed  the  staple  of  the  entertainment — for  there  was 
a  turkey  at  the  top,  a  pair  of  ducks  at  the  bottom,  and  two  fowls  in  the 
middle — disappeared  as  rapidly  as  if  every  bird  had  had  the  use  of  its 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  205 

wings,  and  had  flown  in  desperation  down  a  human  throat.  The  oysters, 
stewed  and  pickled,  leaped  from  their  capacious  reservoirs,  and  slid  by 
scores  into  the  mouths  of  the  assembly.  The  sharpest  pickles  vanished ; 
whole  cucumbers  at  once,  like  sugar-plums ;  and  no  man  winked  his 
eye.  Great  heaps  of  indigestible  matter  melted  away  as  ice  before  the 
sun.  It  was  a  solemn  and  an  awful  thing  to  see.  Dyspeptic  individuals 
bolted  their  food  in  wedges  ;  feeding,  not  themselves,  but  broods  of 
nightmares,  who  were  continually  standing  at  livery  within  them.  Spare 
men,  with  lank  and  rigid  cheeks,  came  out  unsatisfied  from  the  destruc- 
tion of  heavy  dishes,  and  glared  with  watchful  eyes  upon  the  pastry. 
What  Mrs.  Pawkins  felt  each  day  at  dinner-time  is  hidden  from  all 
human  knowledge.     But  she  had  one  comfort.      It  was  very  soon  over. 

When  the  colonel  had  finished  his  dinner,  which  event  took  place 
while  Martin,  who  had  sent  his  plate  for  some  turkey,  was  waiting  to 
begin,  he  asked  him  what  he  thought  of  the  boarders,  who  were  from 
all  parts  of  the  Union,  and  whether  he  would  like  to  know  any  par- 
ticulars concerning  them. 

"  Pray,"  said  Martin,  "  who  is  that  sickly  little  girl  opposite,  with  the 
tight  round  eyes  ?  I  don't  see  anybody  here,  who  looks  like  her  mother, 
or  who  seems  to  have  charge  of  her." 

"Do  you  mean  the  matron  in  blue,  sir?"  asked  the  colonel,  with 
emphasis.     "  That  is  Mrs.  Jefferson  Brick,  sir." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Martin,  "  I  mean  the  little  girl,  like  a  doll — directly 
opposite." 

"Well,  sir  !"  cried  the  colonel.    "  That  is  Mrs.  Jefferson  Brick." 

Martin  glanced  at  the  colonel's  face,  but  he  was  quite  serious. 

"  Bless  my  soul !  I  suppose  there  will  be  a  young  Brick  then,  one  of 
these  days  1 "  said  Martin. 

"  There  are  two  young  Bricks  already,  sir,"  returned  the  colonel. 

The  matron  looked  so  uncommonly  like  a  child  herself,  that  Martin 
could  not  help  saying  as  much.  "  Yes,  sir,"  returned  the  colonel,  "  but 
some  institutions  develop  human  natur  :  others  retard  it." 

"  Jefferson  Brick,"  he  observed  after  a  short  silence,  in  commen- 
dation of  his  correspondent,  "  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in 
our  country,  sir  !  " 

This  had  passed  almost  in  a  whisper,  for  the  distinguished  gentleman 
alluded  to,  sat  on  Martin's  other  hand. 

"  Pray  Mr.  Brick,"  said  Martin  turning  to  him,  and  asking  a  question 
more  for  conversation's  sake  than  from  any  feeling  of  interest  in  its 
subject,  "  who  is  that "  he  was  going  to  say  "  young "  but  thought  it 
prudent  to  eschew  the  word — "  that  very  short  gentleman  yonder,  with 
the  red  nose  ]  " 

"  That  is  Pro — fessor  Mullit,  sir,"  replied  Jefferson. 

"  May  I  ask  what  he  is  Professor  of?"  asked  Martin. 

"  Of  education,  sir,"  said  Jefferson  Brick. 

"  A  sort  of  schoolmaster,  possibly  V  Martin  ventured  to  observe. 

"  He  is  a  man  of  fine  moral  elements,  sir,  and  not  commonly 
endowed,"  said  the  war  correspondent.  "He  felt  it  necessary,  at  the 
last  eleqtipn  for  President,  to  repudiate  and  denounce  his  father,  who 


206  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

voted  on  the  wrong  interest.  lie  has  since  written  some  poweifal 
pamphlets,  under  the  signature  of  ^  Suturb/  or  Brutus  reversed.  He  is 
one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  our  country,  sir." 

"  There  seem  to  be  plenty  of  'em,  "  thought  Martin,  "  at  any  rate." 

Pursuing  his  inquiries,  Martin  found  that  there  were  no  fewer 
than  four  majors  present,  two  colonels,  one  general  and  a  captain,  so 
that  he  could  not  help  thinking  how  strongly  officered  the  American 
militia  must  be  ;  and  wondering  very  much  whether  the  officers  com- 
manded each  other ;  or  if  they  did  not,  where  on  earth  the  privates 
came  from.  There  seemed  to  be  no  man  there  without  a  title  :  for 
those  who  had  not  attained  to  military  honours  were  either  doctors,  pro- 
fessors, or  reverends.  Three  very  hard  and  disagreeable  gentlemen  were 
on  missions  from  neighbouring  States  ;  one  on  monetary  affairs,  one  on 
political,  one  on  sectarian.  Among  the  ladies,  there  were  Mrs.  Pawkins, 
who  was  very  straight,  bony,  and  silent ;  and  a  wiry-faced  old  damsel, 
who  held  strong  sentiments  touching  the  rights  of  women,  and  had 
diffused  the  same  in  lectures ;  but  the  rest  were  strangely  devoid  of 
individual  traits  of  character,  insomuch  that  any  one  of  them  might 
have  changed  minds  with  the  other,  and  nobody  would  have  found  it  out. 
These,  by  the  way,  were  the  only  members  of  the  party  who  did  not 
appear  to  be  among  the  most  remarkable  people  in  the  country. 

Several  of  the  gentlemen  got  up,  one  by  one,  and  walked  off  as  they 
swallowed  their  last  morsel ;  pausing  generally  by  the  stove  for  a 
minute  or  so  to  refresh  themselves  at  the  brass  spittoons.  A  few  seden- 
tary characters,  however,  remained  at  table  full  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
and  did  not  rise  until  the  ladies  rose,  when  all  stood  up. 

"  Where  are  they  going  1 "  asked  Martin,  in  the  ear  of  Mr.  Jefferson 
Brick. 

"  To  their  bed-rooms,  sir." 

"  Is  there  no  dessert,  or  other  interval  of  conversation  1 "  asked 
Martin,  who  was  disposed  to  enjoy  himself  after  his  long  voyage. 

"  We  are  a  busy  people  here,  sir,  and  have  no  time  for  that,"  was  the 
reply. 

So  the  ladies  passed  out  in  single  file ;  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick  and  such 
other  married  gentlemen  as  were  left,  acknowledging  the  departure  of 
their  other  halves  by  a  nod ;  and  there  was  an  end  of  them.  Martin 
thought  this  an  uncomfortable  custom,  but  he  kept  his  opinion  to 
himself  for  the  present,  being  anxious  to  hear,  and  inform  himself  by, 
the  conversation  of  the  busy  gentlemen,  who  now  lounged  about  the 
stove  as  if  a  great  weight  had  been  taken  off  their  minds  by  the  with- 
drawal of  the  other  sex  ;  and  who  made  a  plentiful  use  of  the  spittoons 
and  their  toothpicks. 

It  was  rather  barren  of  interest,  to  say  the  truth ;  and  the  greater  part  of 
it  may  be  summed  up  in  one  word — dollars.  All  their  cares,  hopes,  joys, 
affections,  virtues,  and  associations,  seemed  to  be  melted  down  into  dollars. 
Whatever  the  chance  contributions  that  fell  into  the  slow  cauldron  of 
their  talk,  they  made  the  gruel  thick  and  slab  with  dollars.  Men  were 
weighed  by  their  dollars,  measures  gauged  by  their  dollars ;  life  was 
auctioneered,  appraised,  put  up,  and  knocked  down  for  its  dollars.     The 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  207 

next  respectable  thing  to  dollars  was  any  venture  having  tlieir  attainment 
for  its  end.  The  more  of  that  Avorthless  ballast,  honour  and  fair-dealing, 
which  any  man  cast  overboard  from  the  ship  of  his  Good  Name  and  Good 
Intent,  the  more  ample  stowage-room  he  had  for  dollars.  Make  com- 
merce one  huge  lie  and  mighty  theft.  Deface  the  banner  of  the  nation 
for  an  idle  rag  ;  pollute  it  star  by  star ;  and  cut  out  stripe  by  stripe  as 
from  the  arm  of  a  degraded  soldier.  Do  anything  for  dollars  !  What 
is  a  flag  to  them  ! 

One  who  rides  at  all  hazards  of  limb  and  life  in  the  chase  of  a  fox, 
will  prefer  to  ride  recklessly  at  most  times.  80  it  was  with  these  gen- 
tlemen. He  Avas  the  greatest  patriot,  in  their  eyes,  who  brawled  the 
loudest,  and  who  cared  the  least  for  decency.  He  was  their  cham- 
pion, who  in  the  brutal  fury  of  his  own  pursuit,  could  cast  no  stigma 
upon  them,  for  the  hot  knavery  of  theirs.  Thus,  J\Iartin  learned  in  the 
live  minutes'  straggling  talk  about  the  stove,  that  to  carry  pistols  into 
legislative  assemblies,  and  swords  in  sticks,  and  other  such  peaceful  toys  ; 
to  seize  opponents  by  the  throat,  as  dogs  or  rats  might  do ;  to  bluster, 
bully,  and  overbear  by  personal  assailment ;  were  glowing  deeds.  Not 
thrusts  and  stabs  at  Freedom,  striking  far  deeper  into  her  House  of  Life 
than  any  sultan's  scimetar  could  reach  ;  but  rare  incense  on  her  altars, 
having  a  grateful  scent  in  patriotic  nostrils,  and  curling  upward  to  the 
seventh  heaven  of  Fame. 

Once  or  twice,  when  there  was  a  pause,  Martin  asked  such  questions 
as  naturally  occurred  to  him,  being  a  stranger,  about  the  national  poets, 
the  theatre,  literature,  and  the  arts.  But  the  information  which  these 
gentlemen  were  in  a  condition  to  give  him  on  such  topics,  did  not  extend 
beyond  the  effusions  of  such  master-spirits  of  the  time,  as  Colonel  Diver, 
Mr.  Jefferson  Brick,  and  others ;  renowned,  as  it  appeared,  for  excel- 
lence in  the  achievement  of  a  peculiar  style  of  broadside-essay  called 
"  a  screamer." 

"  We  are  a  busy  people,  sir,"  said  one  of  the  captains,  who  was  from 
the  West,  "and  have  no  time  for  reading  mere  notions.  We  don't  mind 
'em  if  they  come  to  us  in  newspapers  along  with  almighty  strong  stuff 
of  another  sort,  but  darn  your  books." 

Here  the  general,  who  appeared  to  quite  grow  faint  at  the  bare 
thought  of  reading  anything  which  was  neither  mercantile  nor  political, 
and  was  not  in  a  newspaper,  inquired  "  if  any  gentleman  would  drink 
some  ? "  Most  of  the  company,  considering  this  a  very  choice  and 
seasonable  idea,  lounged  out  one  by  one  to  the  bar-room  in  the  next 
block.  Thence  they  probably  went  to  their  stores  and  counting-houses ; 
thence  to  the  bar-room  airain,  to  talk  once  more  of  dollars,  and  enlaro-e 
their  minds  with  the  perusal  and  discussion  of  screamers ;  and  thence 
each  man  to  snore  in  the  bosom  of  his  own  family. 

"  Which  would  seem,"  said  Martin,  pursuing  the  current  of  his  own 
thoughts,  "to  be  the  principal  recreation  they  enjoy  in  common."  With 
that,  he  fell  a-musing  again  on  dollars,  demagogues,  and  bar-rooms ; 
debating  within  himself  whether  busy  people  of  this  class  were  really 
as  busy  as  they  claimed  to  be,  or  only  had  an  inaptitude  for  social  and 
domestic  pleasure. 


208  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

It  was  a  difficult  question  to  solve ;  and  the  mere  fact  of  its  being 
strongly  presented  to  his  mind  by  all  that  he  had  seen  and  heard,  was 
not  encouraging.  He  sat  down  at  the  deserted  board,  and  becoming 
more  and  more  despondent,  as  he  thought  of  all  the  uncertainties  and 
difficulties  of  his  precarious  situation,  sighed  heavily. 

Now,  there  had  been  at  the  dinner-table  a  middle-aged  man  with  a 
dark  eye  and  a  sunburnt  face,  who  had  attracted  Martin's  attention  by 
having  something  very  engaging  and  honest  in  the  expression  of  his 
features  ;  but  of  whom  he  could  learn  nothing  from  either  of  his  neigh- 
bours, who  seemed  to  consider  him  quite  beneath  their  notice.  He  had 
taken  no  part  in  the  conversation  round  the  stove,  nor  had  he  gone 
forth  with  the  rest;  and  now,  when  he  heard  Martin  sigh  for  the  third 
or  fourth  time,  he  interposed  with  some  casual  remark,  as  if  he  desired, 
without  obtruding  himself  upon  a  stranger's  notice,  to  engage  him  in 
cheerful  conversation  if  he  could.  His  motive  was  so  obvious,  and  yet 
so  delicately  expressed,  that  Martin  felt  really  grateful  to  him,  and 
showed  him  so,  in  the  manner  of  his  reply. 

"  I  will  not  ask  you,"  said  this  gentleman  with  a  smile,  as  he  rose  and 
moved  towards  him,  "  how  you  like  my  country,  for  I  can  quite 
anticipate  your  real  feeling  on  that  point.  But,  as  I  am  an  American, 
and  consequently  bound  to  begin  with  a  question,  I'll  ask  you  how  do 
you  like  the  colonel  V 

"  You  are  so  very  frank,"  returned  Martin,  "  that  I  have  no  hesitation 
in  saying  I  don't  like  him  at  all.  Though  I  must  add  that  I  am 
beholden  to  him  for  his  civility  in  bringing  me  here — and  arranging  for 
my  stay,  on  pretty  reasonable  terms,  by  the  way,"  he  added  :  remember- 
ing that  the  colonel  had  whispered  him  to  that  effect,  before  going  out. 

"  Not  much  beholden,"  said  the  stranger  drily.  "  The  colonel  occa- 
sionally boards  packet-ships,  I  have  heard,  to  glean  the  latest  informa- 
tion for  his  journal ;  and  he  occasionally  brings  strangers  to  board  here, 
I  believe,  with  a  view  to  the  little  per-centage  which  attaches  to  those 
good  offices ;  and  which  the  hostess  deducts  from  his  weekly  bill.  I 
don't  offend  you,  I  hope?"  he  added,  seeing  that  Martin  reddened. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  returned  Martin,  as  they  shook  hands,  "  how  is  that 
possible  !  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I — am — " 

"  Yes  ?"  said  the  gentleman,  sitting  down  beside  him. 

"  1  am  rather  at  a  loss,  since  I  must  speak  plainly,"  said  Martin, 
getting  the  better  of  his  hesitation,  "  to  know  how  this  colonel  escapes 
being  beaten." 

"  Well !  He  has  been  beaten  once  or  twice,"  remarked  the  gentleman 
quietly.  "  He  is  one  of  a  class  of  men,  in  whom  our  own  Franklin,  so 
long  ago  as  ten  years  before  the  close  of  the  last  century,  foresaw  our 
danger  and  disgrace.  Perhaps  you  don't  know  that  Franklin,  in  very 
severe  terms,  published  his  opinion  that  those  who  were  slandered  by 
such  fellows  as  this  colonel,  having  no  sufficient  remedy  in  the  adminis- 
tration of  this  country's  laws  or  in  the  decent  and  right-minded  feeling 
of  its  people,  were  justified  in  retorting  on  such  public  nuisances  by 
means  of  a  stout  cudgel  V 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  that,"  said  Martin,  '•  but  I  am  very  glad  to  know 


MARTIX    CHUZZLEWIT.  209 

it,  and  I  think  it  \vorthy  of  his  memory  ;  especially" — here  he  hesitated 
a2:ain. 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  other,  smiling  as  if  he  knew  what  stuck  in  Mar- 
tin's throat. 

"  Especially,"  pursued  Martin,  "  as  I  can  already  understand  that  it 
may  have  required  great  courage  even  in  his  lime  to  write  freely  on  any 
question  which  was  not  a  party  one  in  this  very  free  country." 

"  Some  courage,  no  doubt,"  returned  his  new  friend.  "  Do  you  think 
it  would  require  any  to  do  so,  now  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  think  it  would  ;  and  not  a  little,"  said  Martin. 

'^  You  are  right.  So  very  right,  that  I  believe  no  satirist  could 
breathe  this  air.  If  another  Juvenal  or  Swift  could  rise  up  among  us 
to-morrow,  he  would  be  hunted  down.  If  you  have  any  knowledge  of 
our  literature,  and  can  give  me  the  name  of  any  man,  American  born 
and  bred,  who  has  anatomised  our  follies  as  a  people,  and  not  as  this  or 
that  party;  and  has  escaped  the  foulest  and  most  brutal  slander,  the 
most  inveterate  hatred  and  intolerant  pursuit ;  it  M-ill  be  a  strange  name 
in  my  ears,  believe  me.  In  some  cases  I  could  name  to  you,  where  a 
native  writer  has  ventured  on  the  most  harmless  and  good-humoured 
illustrations  of  our  vices  or  defects,  it  has  been  found  necessary  to 
announce,  that  in  a  second  edition  the  passage  has  been  expunged,  or 
altered,  or  explained  away,  or  patched  into  praise," 

"And  how  has  this  been  brought  about  T'  asked  Martin,  in  dismay. 

"  Think  of  what  you  have  seen  and  heard  to-day,  beginning  with 
the  colonel,"  said  his  friend,  "  and  ask  yourself.  How  the?/  came  about 
is  another  question.  Heaven  forbid  that  they  should  be  samples  of  the 
intelligence  and  virtue  of  America,  but  they  come  uppermost ;  and 
in  great  numbers  too;  and  too  often  represent  it.     Will  you  walkT' 

There  was  a  cordial  candour  in  his  manner,  and  an  engaging  confi- 
dence that  it  would  not  be  abused;  a  manly  bearing  on  his  own  part, 
and  a  simple  reliance  on  the  manly  faith  of  a  stranger;  which  Martin 
had  never  seen  before.  He  linked  his  arm  readily  in  that  of  the 
American  gentleman,  and  they  walked  out  together. 

It  was  perhaps  to  men  like  this,  his  new  companion,  that  a  traveller 
of  honoured  name,  who  trod  those  shores  now  nearly  forty  years  ago,  and 
woke  upon  that  soil,  as  many  have  done  since,  to  blots  and  stains  upon 
its  high  pretensions,  which  in  the  brightness  of  his  distant  dreams  were 
lost  to  view  ;  appealed  in  these  words — 

Oh  but  for  such,  Columbia's  days  were  done  ; 
Rank  witliout  ripeness,  quickened  without  sun, 
Crude  at  the  surface,  rotten  at  the  core, 
Her  fruits  would  full  before  her  Spring  were  o'er  ! 


210  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

MARTIN  ENLARGES  HIS  CIRCLE  OF  ACQUAINTANCE  ;  INCREASES  HIS  STOCK 
OF  WISDOM  ;  AND  HAS  AN  EXCELLENT  OPPORTUNITY  OF  COMPARING 
HIS  OWN  EXPERIENCES  WITH  THOSE  OF  LUMMY  NED  OF  THE  LIGHT 
SALISBURY,    AS    RELATED    BY    HIS    FRIEND    MR.  WILLIAM    SIMMONS. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Martin,  that  all  this  while  he  had  either  for- 
gotten Mark  Tapley  as  completely  as  if  there  had  been  no  such  person 
in  existence,  or,  if  for  a  moment  the  figure  of  that  gentleman  rose  before 
his  mental  vision,  had  dismissed  it  as  something  by  no  means  of  a  press- 
ing nature,  which  might  be  attended  to  by-and-by,  and  could  wait  his 
perfect  leisure.  But  being  now  in  the  streets  again,  it  occurred  to  him 
as  just  coming  within  the  bare  limits  of  possibility  that  Mr.  Tapley  might, 
in  course  of  time,  grow  tired  of  waiting  on  the  threshold  of  the  Rowdy 
Journal  Office ;  so  he  intimated  to  his  new  friend,  that  if  they  could 
conveniently  walk  in  that  direction,  he  would  be  glad  to  get  this  piece 
of  business  off  his  mind. 

"  And  speaking  of  business,"  said  Martin,  "  may  I  ask,  in  order  that 
I  may  not  be  behind-hand  with  questions  either,  whether  your  occupa- 
tion holds  you  to  this  city,  or,  like  myself,  you  are  a  visitor  here  1 " 

"  A  visitor,"  replied  his  friend.  "  I  was  '  raised '  in  the  State  of  Mas- 
sachusetts, and  reside  there  still.  My  home  is  in  a  quiet  country  toMii. 
I  am  not  often  in  these  busy  places  ;  and  my  inclination  to  visit  them 
does  not  increase  with  our  better  acquaintance,  I  assure  you." 

"  You  have  been  abroad  1 "  asked  Martin. 

"  Oh  yes." 

"And,  like  most  people  who  travel,  have  become  more  than  ever 
attached  to  your  home  and  native  country,"  said  Martin,  eyeing  him 
curiously. 

"  To  my  home — yes,"  rejoined  his  friend.  "  To  my  native  country 
as  my  home — ^}'es,  also." 

"  You  imply  some  reservation,"  said  Martin. 

"  Well,"  returned  his  new  friend,  "  if  you  ask  me  whether  I  came 
back  here  with  a  greater  relish  for  my  country's  faults  ;  with  a  greater 
fondness  for  those  who  claim  (at  the  rate  of  so  many  dollars  a  day)  to  be 
her  friends  ;  with  a  cooler  indifference  to  the  growth  of  principles  among 
us  in  respect  of  public  matters  and  of  private  dealings  between  man  and 
man,  the  advocacy  of  which,  beyond  the  foul  atmosphere  of  a  criminal 
trial,  would  disgrace  your  own  Old  Bailey  lawyers ;  why,  then  I  answer 
plainly.  No." 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Martin  ;  in  so  exactly  the  same  key  as  his  friend's  No, 
that  it  sounded  like  an  echo. 

"  If  you  ask  me,"  his  companion  pursued,  "  whether  I  came  back  here 
better  satisfied  with  a  state  of  things  which  broadly  divides  society  into 
two  classes — whereof  one,  the  great  mass,  asserts  a  spurious  independence, 
most  miserably  dependent  for  its  mean  existence  on  the  disregard  of 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  211 

humanizing  conventionalities  of  manner  and  social  custom,  so  that  the 
coarser  a  man  is,  the  more  distinctly  it  shall  appeal  to  his  taste ;  while 
the  other,  disgusted  with  the  low  standard  thus  set  up  and  made  adapt- 
able to  everything,  takes  refuge  among  the  graces  and  refinements  it  can 
bring  to  bear  on  private  life,  and  leaves  the  public  weal  to  such  fortune 
as  may  betide  it  in  the  press  and  uproar  of  a  general  scramble — then 
again  I  answer.  No." 

And  again  Martin  said  "  Oh  ! "  in  the  same  odd  way  as  before, 
being  anxious  and  disconcerted ;  not  so  much,  to  say  the  truth,  on 
public  grounds,  as  with  reference  to  the  fading  prospects  of  domestic 
architecture. 

"  In  a  word,"  resumed  the  other,  "  I  do  not  find  and  cannot  believe, 
and  therefore  will  not  allow  that  we  are  a  model  of  wisdom,  and  an 
example  to  the  world,  and  the  perfection  of  human  reason ;  and  a  great 
deal  more  to  the  same  purpose,  which  you  may  hear  any  hour  in  the 
day ;  simply  because  we  began  our  political  life  with  two  inestimable 
advantages." 

"What  were  they?"  asked  Martin. 

"  One,  that  our  history  commenced  at  so  late  a  period  as  to  escape 
the  ages  of  bloodshed  and  cruelty  through  which  other  nations  have 
passed  ;  and  so  had  all  the  light  of  their  probation,  and  none  of  its  dark- 
ness. The  other,  that  we  have  a  vast  territory,  and  not — as  yet — too 
many  people  on  it.  These  facts  considered,  we  have  done  little  enough, 
I  think." 

"  Education  ?"  suggested  Martin,  faintly. 

"  Pretty  well  on  that  head,"  said  the  other,  shrugging  his  shoulders, 
"  still  no  mighty  matter  to  boast  of ;  for  old  countries,  and  despotic 
countries  too,  have  done  as  much,  if  not  more,  and  made  less  noise  about 
it.  We  shine  out  brightly  in  comparison  with  England,  certainly,  but 
hers  is  a  very  extreme  case.  You  complimented  me  on  my  frankness, 
you  know,"  he  added,  laughing. 

"  Oh  !  I  am  not  at  all  astonished  at  your  speaking  thus  openly  when 
my  country  is  in  question,"  returned  Martin.  "  It  is  your  plain-speaking 
in  reference  to  your  own  that  surprises  me." 

"  You  will  not  find  it  a  scarce  quality  here,  I  assure  you,  saving 
among  the  Colonel  Divers,  and  Jefferson  Bricks,  and  Major  Pawkinses — 
though  the  best  of  us  are  something  like  the  man  in  Goldsmith's 
Comedy,  who  wouldn't  suffer  anybody  but  himself  to  abuse  his  master. 
Come  ! "  he  added,  '•  let  us  talk  of  something  else.  You  have  come  here 
on  some  design  of  improving  your  fortune,  I  dare  say ;  and  I  should 
grieve  to  put  you  out  of  heart.  I  am  some  years  older  than  you, 
besides  ;  and  may,  on  a  few  trivial  points,  advise  you,  perhaps." 

There  was  not  the  least  curiosity  or  impertinence  in  the  manner  of  this 
ofier,  which  was  open-hearted,  unaffected,  and  good-natured.  As  it  was 
next  to  impossible  that  he  should  not  have  his  confidence  awakened  by  a 
deportment  so  prepossessing  and  kind,  Martin  plainly  stated  what  had 
brought  him  into  those  parts,  and  even  made  the  very  difficult  avowal 
that  he  was  poor.  He  did  not  say  how  poor,  it  must  be  admitted, 
rather  throwing  ofi"  the  declaration  with   an   air   which   might   have 

p  2 


212  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

implied  that  he  liad  money  enough  for  six  months,  instead  of  as  many 
weeks ;  hut  poor  he  said  he  was,  and  grateful  he  said  he  would  be,  for 
any  counsel  that  his  friend  would  give  him. 

It  would  not  have  been  very  difficult  for  any  one  to  see  ;  but  it  was 
particularly  easy  for  Martin,  whose  perceptions  were  sharpened  by  his 
circumstances,  to  discern  ;  that  the  stranger's  face  grew  infinitely  longer 
as  the  domestic-architecture  project  was  developed.  Nor,  although  he 
made  a  great  effort  to  be  as  encouraging  as  possible,  could  he  prevent  his 
head  from  shaking  once  involuntarily,  as  if  it  said  in  the  vulgar  tongue, 
upon  its  own  account,  "  No  go ! "  But  he  spoke  in  a  cheerful  tone,  and 
said,  that  although  there  was  no  such  opening  as  Martin  wished  in  that 
city,  he  would  make  it  matter  of  immediate  consideration  and  enquiry 
where  one  was  most  likely  to  exist ;  and  then  he  made  Martin  acquainted 
with  his  name,  which  was  Bevan  ;  and  with  his  profession,  which  was 
physic,  though  he  seldom  or  never  practised  ;  and  with  other  circum- 
stances connected  with  himself  and  family,  which  fully  occupied  the  time, 
until  they  reached  the  Bowdy  Journal  Office. 

Mr.  Tapley  appeared  to  be  taking  his  ease  on  the  landing  of  the  first- 
floor  j  for  sounds  as  of  some  gentleman  established  in  that  region,  whist- 
ling "  Bule  Britannia"  with  all  his  might  and  main,  greeted  their  ears 
before  they  reached  the  house.  On  ascending  to  the  spot  from  whence 
this  music  proceeded,  they  found  him  recumbent  in  the  midst  of  a  forti- 
fication of  luggage,  apparently  performing  his  national  anthem  for  the 
gratification  of  a  grey-haired  black  man,  who  sat  on  one  of  the  outworks 
(a  portmanteau),  staring  intently  at  Mark,  while  Mark,  with  his  head  reclin- 
ing on  his  hand,  returned  the  compliment  in  a  thoughtful  manner,  and 
whistled  all  the  time.  He  seemed  to  have  recently  dined,  for  his  knife, 
a  case-bottle,  and  certain  broken  meats  in  a  handkerchief,  lay  near  at 
hand.  He  had  employed  a  portion  of  his  leisure  in  the  decoration  of 
the  Bowdy  Journal  door,  whereon  his  own  initials  now  appeared  in 
letters  nearly  half  a  foot  long,  together  with  the  day  of  the  month  in 
smaller  type  :  the  whole  surrounded  by  an  ornamental  border,  and 
looking  very  fresh  and  bold. 

"  I  was  a'most  afraid  you  was  lost,  sir  ! "  cried  Mark,  rising,  and 
stopping  the  tune  at  that  point  where  Britons  generally  are  supposed  to 
declare  (when  it  is  whistled)  that  they  never,  never,  never, — 

"  Nothing  gone  wrong,  I  hope,  sir." 

"  No,  Mark.     Where's  your  friend  V 

"  The  mad  woman,  sir  V  said  Mr.  Tapley.    "  Oh  !  she's  all  right,  sir." 

"  Did  she  find  her  husband "?" 

"  Yes,  sir.  Least  ways  she's  found  his  remains,"  said  Mark  correcting 
himself 

"  The  man's  not  dead,  I  hope  ?" 

"  Not  altogether  dead,  sir,"  returned  Mark  ;  "  but  he's  had  more 
fevers  and  agues  than  is  quite  reconcileable  with  being  alive.  When 
she  didn't  see  him  a  waiting  for  her,  I  thought  she'd  have  died  herself, 
I  did  !" 

"  Was  he  not  here,  then  ! " 

"He  wasn't  here.     There  was  a  feeble  old  shadow  come  a  creeping 


':%^^^^  v.v7^v77^  /^7.?<^?<7  '^-W^, 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  213 

down  at  last,  as  much  like  his  substance  when  she  know'd  him,  as  your 
shadow  when  it's  drawn  out  to  its  veiy  finest  and  longest  by  the  sun, 
is  like  you.  But  it  was  his  remains,  there's  no  doubt  about  that.  She 
took  on  with  joy,  poor  thing,  as  much  as  if  it  had  been  all  of  him  T* 

"  Had  he  bought  land  ?"  asked  Mr.  Bevan. 

"  Ah  !  He'd  bought  land,"  said  Mark,  shaking  his  head,  "  and  paid 
for  it  too.  Every  sort  of  nateral  advantage  was  connected  "with  it,  the 
agents  said  ;  and  there  certainly  was  one,  quite  unlimited.  No  end  to 
the  water ! " 

"  It 's  a  thing  he  couldn't  have  done  without,  I  suppose,"  observed 
Martin,  peevishly. 

"  Certainly  not,  sir.  There  it  was,  any  way ;  always  turned  on,  and 
no  water-rate.  Independent  of  three  or  four  slimy  old  rivers  close  by,  it 
varied  on  the  farm  from  four  to  six  foot  deep  in  the  dry  season.  He 
couldn't  say  how  deep  it  was  in  the  rainy  time,  for  he  never  had  any- 
thing long  enough  to  sound  it  with." 

"  Is  this  true  V  asked  Martin  of  his  companion. 

"  Extremely  probable,"  he  answered.  "  Some  Mississippi  or  Missouri 
lot,  I  dare  say." 

"  However,"  pursued  Mark,  "  he  came  from  I-don't-know-where-and- 
all,  down  to  New  York  here  to  meet  his  wife  and  children ;  and  they 
started  off  again  in  a  steamboat  this  blessed  afternoon,  as  happy  to  be 
along  with  each  other,  as  if  they  was  going  to  Heaven.  I  should 
think  they  was,  pretty  straight,  if  I  may  judge  from  the  poor  man's 
looks." 

"  And  may  I  ask,"  said  Martin,  glancing,  but  not  with  any  displeasure, 
from  Mark  to  the  negro,  "  who  this  gentleman  is  %  Another  friend 
of  yours  ? " 

"  Why,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  taking  him  aside,  and  speaking  confi- 
dentially in  his  ear,  "  he's  a  man  of  color,  sir." 

"  Do  you  take  me  for  a  blind  man,"  asked  Martin,  somewhat  impa- 
tiently, "  that  you  think  it  necessary  to  tell  me  that,  when  his  face  is 
the  blackest  that  ever  was  seen  ?" 

''  No,  no  ;  when  I  say  a  man  of  color,"  returned  Mark,  "  I  mean  that 
he's  been  one  of  them  as  there's  picters  of  in  the  shops.  A  man  and  a 
brother,  you  know,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  favoring  his  master  with  a 
significant  indication  of  the  figure  so  often  represented  in  tracts  and 
cheap  prints. 

"  A  slave  !"  cried  Martin,  in  a  whisper. 

"  Ah  !"  said  Mark  in  the  same  tone.  "  Nothing  else.  A  slave.  "^^Tiy, 
when  that  there  man  was  young — don't  look  at  him,  while  I'm  a  telling 
it — he  was  shot  in  the  leg  -,  gashed  in  the  arm ;  scored  in  his  live  limbs, 
like  pork  ;  beaten  out  of  shape  ;  had  his  neck  galled  with  an  iron  collar, 
and  wore  iron  rings  upon  his  wrists  and  ancles.  The  marks  are  on 
him  to  this  day.  When  I  was  having  my  dinner  just  now,  he  stripped 
off  his  coat,  and  took  away  my  appetite." 

"  Is  this  true  ?"  asked  Martin  of  his  friend,  who  stood  beside  them. 
"  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  it,"  he  answered,  looking  down,  and  shak- 
ing his  head.     "  It  very  often  is." 


214  LIFE   AND    ADVENTIJIIES    OP 

"  Bless  you,"  said  Mark^  "  I  know  it  is,  from  hearing  Lis  whole  story. 
That  master  died  ;  so  did  his  second  master  from  having  his  head  cut 
open  with  a  hatchet  by  another  slave,  who,  when  he'd  done  it,  went  and 
drowned  himself :  then  he  got  a  better  one :  in  years  and  years  he  saved 
up  a  little  money,  and  bought  his  freedom,  which  he  got  pretty  cheap 
at  last,  on  account  of  his  strength  being  nearly  gone,  and  he  being  ill. 
Then  he  come  here.  And  now  he's  a  saving  up  to  treat  himself  afore 
he  dies  to  one  small  purchase — it's  nothing  to  speak  of ;  only  his  own 
daughter;  that's  all  !"  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  becoming  excited.  "Liberty 
for  ever  !     Hurrah  !" 

"  Hush  ! "  cried  Martin,  clapping  his  hand  upon  his  mouth  :  "  and 
don't  be  an  idiot.     What  is  he  doing  here  ?" 

"  Waiting  to  take  our  luggage  off  upon  a  truck,"  said  Mark.  "  He'd 
have  come  for  it  by-and-by,  but  I  engaged  him  for  a  very  reasonable 
charge — out  of  my  own  pocket — to  sit  along  with  me  and  make  me  jolly  ; 
and  I  am  jolly;  and  if  I  was  rich  enough  to  contract  with  him  to  wait 
upon  me  once  a  day,  to  be  looked  at,  I'd  never  be  anything  else." 

The  fact  may  cause  a  solemn  impeachment  of  Mark's  veracity,  but  it 
must  be  admitted  nevertheless,  that  there  was  that  in  his  face  and 
manner  at  the  moment,  which  militated  strongly  against  this  emphatic 
declaration  of  his  state  of  mind. 

"  Lord  love  you,  sir,"  he  added,  "  they're  so  fond  of  Liberty  in  this 
part  of  the  globe,  that  they  buy  her  and  sell  her  and  carry  her  to  market 
with  'em.  They  've  such  a  passion  for  Liberty,  that  they  can't  help 
taking  liberties  with  her.     That 's  what  it 's  owing  to." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Martin,  wishing  to  change  the  theme.  "  Having 
come  to  that  conclusion,  Mark,  perhaps  you  '11  attend  to  me.  The  place 
to  which  the  luggage  is  to  go,  is  printed  on  this  card.  Mrs.  Pawkins's 
Boarding  House." 

"  Mrs.  Pawkins's  boarding-house,"  repeated  Mark.  "  Now,  Cicero.'^ 
"     "Is  that  his  name  ?"  asked  Martin. 

"  That 's  his  name,  sir,"  rejoined  Mark.  And  the  negro  grinning 
assent  from  under  a  leathern  portmanteau,  than  which  his  own  face  Avas 
many  shades  deeper,  hobbled  down  stairs  with  his  portion  of  their 
worldly  goods  :  Mark  Tapley  having  already  gone  before  with  his  share. 

Martin  and  his  friend  followed  them  to  the  door  below,  and  were 
about  to  pursue  their  walk,  when  the  latter  stopped,  and  asked,  with 
some  hesitation,  whether  that  young  man  was  to  be  trusted. 

"  Mark  !  Oh  certainly  !  with  anything." 

"  You  don't  understand  me, — I  think  he  had  better  go  with  us.  He 
is  an  honest  fellow,  and  speaks  his  mind  so  very  plainly." 

"  Why,  the  fact  is,"  said  Martin  smiling,  "  that  being  unaccustomed 
to  a  free  republic,  he  is  used  to  do  so." 

"  I  think  he  had  better  go  with  us,"  returned  the  other.  "  He  may 
get  into  some  trouble  otherwise.  This  is  not  a  slave  State  ;  but  I  am 
ashamed  to  say  that  the  spirit  of  Tolerance  is  not  so  common  anywhere 
in  these  latitudes  as  the  form.  We  are  not  remarkable  for  behaving 
very  temperately  to  each  other  when  we  differ :  but  to  strangers  !  no, 
I  really  think  he  had  better  go  with  us." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  215 

Martin  called  to  Miii  immediately  to  be  of  their  party  ;  so  Cicero  and 
the  truck  went  one  way ;  and  they  three  went  another. 

They  walked  about  the  city  for  two  or  three  hours  ;  seeing  it  from 
the  best  points  of  view,  and  pausing  in  the  principal  streets,  and  before 
such  public  buildings  as  Mr.  Bevan  pointed  out.  Night  then  coming 
on  apace,  Martin  proposed  that  they  should  adjourn  to  Mrs.  Pawkins's 
establishment  for  coffee  ;  but  in  this  he  was  overruled  by  his  new 
acquaintance,  who  seemed  to  have  set  his  heart  on  carrying  him,  though 
it  were  only  for  an  hour,  to  the  house  of  a  friend  of  his  who  lived  hard 
by.  Feeling  (however  disinclined  he  was,  being  weary)  that  it  would 
be  in  bad  taste,  and  not  very  gracious,  to  object  that  he  was  unintro- 
duced,  when  this  open-hearted  gentleman  v/as  so  ready  to  be  his  sponsor, 
Martin — for  once  in  his  life,  at  all  events — sacrificed  his  own  will  and 
pleasure  to  the  wishes  of  another,  and  consented  with  a  fair  grace.  So 
travelling  had  done  him  that  much  good,  already. 

Mr.  Bevan  knocked  at  the  door  of  a  very  neat  house  of  moderate  size, 
from  the  parlour  windows  of  which,  lights  were  shining  brightly  into 
the  now  dark  street.  It  was  quickly  opened  by  a  man  with  such  a 
thoroughly  Irish  face,  that  it  seemed  as  if  he  ought,  as  a  matter  of  right 
and  principle,  to  be  in  rags,  and  could  have  no  sort  of  business  to  be 
looking  cheerfully  at  anybody  out  of  a  whole  suit  of  clothes. 

Commending  Mark  to  the  care  of  this  phenomenon — for  such  he  may 
be  said  to  have  been  in  Martin's  eyes — Mr.  Bevan  led  the  way  into  the 
room  which  had  shed  its  cheerfulness  upon  the  street,  to  whose  occu- 
pants he  introduced  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  as  a  gentleman  from  England,  whose 
acquaintance  he  had  recently  had  the  pleasure  to  make.  They  gave 
him  welcome  in  all  courtesy  and  politeness ;  and  in  less  than  five 
minutes'  time  he  found  himself  sitting  very  much  at  his  ease,  by  the 
fireside,  and  becoming  vastly  well  acquainted  with  the  whole  family. 

There  were  two  young  ladies — one  eighteen;  the  other  twenty — both 
very  slender,  but  very  pretty ;  their  mother,  who  looked,  as  Martin 
thought,  much  older  and  more  faded  than  she  ought  to  have  looked  ; 
and  their  grandmother,  a  little  sharp-eyed,  quick  old  woman,  who 
seemed  to  have  got  past  that  stage,  and  to  have  come  all  right  again. 
Besides  these,  there  were  the  young  ladies'  father,  and  the  young  ladies' 
brother  ;  the  first  engaged  in  mercantile  affairs  ;  the  second,  a  student 
at  college — both,  in  a  certain  cordiality  of  manner,  like  his  own  friend  ; 
and  not  unlike  him  in  face,  which  was  no  great  wonder,  for  it  soon 
appeared  that  he  was  their  near  relation.  Martin  could  not  help  tracing 
the  family  pedigree  from  the  two  young  ladies,  because  they  were  fore- 
most in  his  thoughts  :  not  only  from  being,  as  aforesaid,  very  pretty, 
but  by  reason  of  their  wearing  miraculously  small  shoes,  and  the  thinnest 
possible  silk  stockings  :  the  which  their  rocking-chairs  developed  to  a 
distracting  extent. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  it  was  a  monstrous  comfortable  circumstance 
to  be  sitting  in  a  snug  well-furnished  room,  warmed  by  a  cheerful  fire, 
and  full  of  various  pleasant  decorations,  including  four  small  shoes,  and 

the  like  amount  of  silk  stockings,  and yes,  why  not  ? — the  feet 

and  legs  therein  enshrined.     And  there  is  no  doubt  that  Martin  was 


216  LIFE    AND    ADVENTUEES    OF 

monstrous  well-disposed  to  regard  liis  position  in  that  light,  after  liis 
recent  experience  of  the  Screw,  and  of  Mrs.  Pawkins's  boarding-house. 
The  consequence  was,  that  he  made  himself  very  agreeable  indeed  ;  and 
by  the  time  the  tea  and  coffee  arrived  (with  sweet  preserves,  and  cun- 
ning teacakes  in  its  train),  was  in  a  highly  genial  state,  and  much 
esteemed  by  the  whole  family. 

Another  delightful  circumstance  turned  up  before  the  first  cup  of  tea 
was  drunk.  The  whole  family  had  been  in  England.  There  was  a 
pleasant  thing !  But  Martin  was  not  quite  so  glad  of  this,  when  he 
found  that  they  knew  all  the  great  dukes,  lords,  viscounts,  marquesses, 
duchesses,  knights,  and  baronets,  quite  affectionately,  and  were  beyond 
everything  interested  in  the  least  particular  concerning  them.  However, 
when  they  asked  after  the  wearer  of  this  or  that  coronet,  and  said  '  Was 
he  quite  well?'  Martin  answered  'Yes,  oh  yes.  Never  better;'  and 
when  they  said  his  Lordship's  mother,  '  the  Duchess,  was  she  much 
changed]'  Martin  said,  '  Oh  dear  no,  they  would  know  her  anywhere 
if  they  saw  her  to-morrow;'  and  so  got  on  pretty  well.  In  like  manner 
when  the  young  ladies  questioned  him  touching  the  Gold  Fish  in  that 
Grecian  fountain  in  such  and  such  a  nobleman's  conservatory,  and 
whether  there  were  as  many  as  there  used  to  be,  he  gravely  reported,  after 
mature  consideration,  that  there  must  be  at  least  twice  as  many :  and  as 
to  the  exotics,  '  Oh !  well !  it  was  of  no  use  talking  about  them;  they  must 
be  seen  to  be  believed;'  which  improved  state  of  circumstances  reminded 
the  family  of  the  splendour  of  that  brilliant  festival  (comprehending 
the  whole  British  Peerage  and  Court  Calendar)  to  which  they  were 
specially  invited,  and  which  indeed  had  been  partly  given  in  their 
honour :  and  recollections  of  what  Mr.  Norris  the  father  had  said  to  the 
Marquess,  and  of  what  Mrs.  Norris  the  mother  had  said  to  the  Marchioness, 
and  of  what  the  Marquess  and  Marchioness  had  both  said,  when  they 
said  that  upon  their  words  and  honours  they  wished  Mr.  Norris  the 
father  and  Mrs.  Norris  the  mother,  and  the  Misses  Norris  the  daughters, 
and  Mr.  Norris  Junior,  the  son,  would  only  take  up  their  permanent 
residence  in  England,  and  give  them  the  pleasure  of  their  everlasting 
friendship,  occupied  a  very  considerable  time. 

Martin  thought  it  rather  strange,  and  in  some  sort  inconsistent,  that 
during  the  whole  of  these  narrations,  and  in  the  very  meridian  of  their 
enjoyment  thereof,  both  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  and  Mr.  Norris  Junior, 
the  son  (who  corresponded,  every  post,  with  four  members  of  the  English 
Peerage),  enlarged  upon  the  inestimable  advantage  of  having  no  such 
arbitrary  distinctions  in  that  enlightened  land,  where  there  were  no  noble- 
men but  nature's  noblemen,  and  all  society  was  based  on  one  broad  level 
of  brotherly  love  and  natural  equality.  Indeed  Mr.  Norris  the  father 
gradually  expanding  into  an  oration  on  this  swelling  theme  was  becom- 
ing tedious,  when  Mr.  Bevan  diverted  his  thoughts,  by  happening  to 
make  some  casual  inquiry  relative  to  the  occupier  of  the  next  house ;  in 
reply  to  which,  this  same  Mr.  Norris  the  father  observed,  that  "  that  per- 
son entertained  religious  opinions  of  which  he  couldn't  approve;  and 
therefore  he  hadn't  the  honour  of  knowing  the  gentleman."  Mrs.  Norris 
the  mother  added  another  reason  of  her  own,  the  same  in  effect,  but 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  217 

varying  in  words  ;  to  wit,  that  slie  believed  the  people  were  well  enough 
in  their  way,  but  they  were  not  genteel. 

Another  little  trait  came  out,  which  impressed  itself  on  Martin 
forcibly.  Mr.  Bevan  told  them  about  Mark  and  the  negro,  and  then  it 
appeared  that  all  the  Norrises  were  abolitionists.  It  was  a  great  relief 
to  hear  this,  and  Martin  was  so  much  encouraged  on  finding  himself  in 
such  company,  that  he  expressed  his  sympathy  with  the  oppressed  and 
wretched  blacks.  Now,  one  of  the  young  ladies — the  prettiest  and  most 
delicate  one — was  mightily  amused  at  the  earnestness  with  which  he 
spoke ;  and  on  his  craving  leave  to  ask  her  why,  was  quite  unable  for  a 
time  to  speak  for  laughing.  As  soon  however  as  she  could,  she  told 
him  that  the  negroes  were  such  a  funny  people ;  so  excessively  ludicrous 
in  their  manners  and  appearance ;  that  it  was  wholly  impossible  for 
those  who  knew  them  well,  to  associate  any  serious  ideas  with  such  a 
very  absurd  part  of  the  creation.  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  and  Mrs.  Norris 
the  mother,  and  Miss  Norris  the  sister,  and  Mr.  Norris  Junior  the 
brother,  and  even  Mrs.  Norris  Senior  the  grandmother,  were  all  of  this 
opinion,  and  laid  it  down  as  an  absolute  matter  of  fact — as  if  there  were 
nothing  in  suffering  and  slavery  grim  enough  to  cast  a  solemn  air  on 
any  human  animal ;  though  it  were  as  ridiculous,  physically,  as  the  most 
grotesque  of  apes  ;  or,  morally,  as  the  mildest  Nimrod  among  tuft- 
hunting  republicans  ! 

"  In  short,"  said  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  settling  the  question  com- 
fortably, "  there  is  a  natural  antipathy  between  the  races." 

"  Extending,"  said  Martin's  friend,  in  a  low  voice,  "  to  the  cruellest 
of  tortures,  and  the  bargain  and  sale  of  unborn  generations." 

Mr.  Norris  the  son  said  nothing,  but  he  made  a  wry  face,  and  dusted 
his  fingers  as  Hamlet  might  after  getting  rid  of  Yorick's  skull:  just  as 
though  he  had  that  moment  touched  a  negro,  and  some  of  the  black  had 
come  off  upon  his  hands. 

In  order  that  their  talk  might  fall  again  into  its  former  pleasant 
channel,  Martin  dropped  the  subject,  with  a  shrewd  suspicion  that  it 
would  be  a  dangerous  theme  to  revive  under  the  best  of  circumstances  : 
and  again  adxiressed  himself  to  the  young  ladies,  who  were  very  gor- 
geously attired  in  very  beautiful  colours,  and  had  every  article  of  dress 
on  the  same  extensive  scale  as  the  little  shoes  and  the  thin  silk  stockinsrs. 

o 

This  suggested  to  him  that  they  were  great  proficients  in  the  French 
fashions,  which  soon  turned  out  to  be  the  case,  for  though  their  informa- 
tion appeared  to  be  none  of  the  newest,  it  was  very  extensive  :  and  the 
eldest  sister  in  particular,  who  was  distinguished  by  a  talent  for  meta- 
physics, the  laws  of  hydraulic  pressure,  and  the  rights  of  human  kind, 
had  a  novel  vray  of  combining  these  acquirements  and  bringing  them  to 
bear  on  any  subject  from  Millinery  to  the  Millennium,  both  inclusive  : 
which  was  at  once  improving  and  remarkable, — so  much  so,  in  short, 
that  it  was  usually  observed  to  reduce  foreigners  to  a  state  of  temporary 
insanity  in  five  minutes. 

Martin  felt  his  reason  going  ;  and  as  a  means  of  saving  himself, 
besought  the  other  sister  (seeing  a  piano  in  the  room)  to  sing.  With 
this  request  she  willingly  complied  ;   and  a  bravura  concert,  solely  sus- 


218  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES   OF 

tained  by  the  Misses  Norris,  presently  began.  They  sang  in  all  languages 
except  their  own.  German,  French,  Italian,  Spanish,  Portuguese,  Swiss  ; 
but  nothing  native  ;  nothing  so  low  as  native.  For  in  this  respect 
languages  are  like  many  other  travellers — ordinary  and  common-place 
enough  at  home,  but  'specially  genteel  abroad. 

There  is  little  doubt  that  in  course  of  time  the  Misses  Norris  would 
have  come  to  Hebrew,  if  they  had  not  been  interrupted  by  an  announce- 
ment from  the  Irishman,  who  flinging  open  the  door,  cried  in  a  loud 
voice — 

"Jiniral  Fladdock  !" 

"My!"  cried  the  sisters,  desisting  suddenly.  "The  General  come 
back !" 

As  they  made  the  exclamation,  the  General,  attired  in  full  uniform  for 
a  ball,  came  darting  in  with  such  precipitancy  that,  hitching  his  boot  in 
the  carpet,  and  getting  his  sword  between  his  legs,  he  came  down  head- 
long, and  presented  a  curious  little  bald  place  on  the  crown  of  his  head 
to  the  eyes  of  the  astonished  company.  Nor  was  this  the  worst  of  it ;  for 
being  rather  corpulent  and  very  tight,  the  General,  being  down,  could  not 
get  up  again,  but  lay  there,  writhing  and  doing  such  things  with  his 
boots,  as  there  is  no  other  instance  of  in  military  history. 

Of  course  there  was  an  immediate  rush  to  his  assistance  ;  and  the 
General  was  promptly  raised.]  But  his  uniform  was  so  fearfully  and 
wonderfully  made  that  he  came  up  stiff  and  without  a  bend  in  him, 
like  a  dead  Clown,  and  had  no  command  whatever  of  himself  until  he 
was  put  quite  flat  upon  the  soles  of  his  feet,  when  he  became  animated 
as  by  a  miracle,  and  moving  edgewise  that  he  might  go  in  a  narrower 
compass  and  be  in  less  danger  of  fraying  the  gold  lace  on  his  epaulettes 
by  brushing  them  against  anything,  advanced  with  a  smiling  visage  to 
salute  the  lady  of  the  house. 

To  be  sure,  it  would  have  been  impossible  for  the  family  to  tes- 
tify purer  delight  and  joy  than  at  this  unlooked-for  appearance  of 
General  Fladdock  !  The  General  was  as  warmly  received  as  if  New 
York  had  been  in  a  state  of  siege  and  no  other  General  was  to  be  got, 
for  love  or  money.  He  shook  hands  with  the  Norrises  three  times  all 
round,  and  then  reviewed  them  from  a  little  distance  as  a  brave  com- 
mander might,  with  his  ample  cloak  drawn  forward  over  the  right 
shoulder  and  thrown  back  upon  the  left  side  to  reveal  his  manly  breast. 

"  And  do  I  then,"  cried  the  General,  "  once  again  behold  the  choicest 
spirits  of  my  country  ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Norris  the  father.    "  Here  we  are.  General." 

Then  all  the  Norri^es  pressed  round  the  General,  inquiring  how  and 
where  he  had  been  since  the  date  of  his  last  letter,  and  how  he  had 
enjoyed  himself  in  foreign  parts,  and,  particularly  and  above  all,  to  what 
extent  he  had  become  acquainted  with  the  great  dukes,  lords,  viscounts, 
marquesses,  duchesses,  knights,  and  baronets,  in  whom  the  people  of 
those  benighted  countries  had  delight. 

"  Well  then,  don't  ask  me,"  said  the  General,  holding  up  his  hand. 
"I  was  among  'em  all  the  time,  and  have  got  public  journals  in  my 
trunk  with  my  name  printed" — he  lowered  his  voice  and  was  very 


MARTIN    CHTJZZLEWIT.  219 

impressive  here — "  among  the  fashionable  news.     But,  oh  the  conven- 
tionalities of  that  a-mazing  Europe  !" 

"Ah  !"  cried  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  giving  his  head  a  melancholy 
shake,  and  looking  towards  Martin  as  though  he  would  say,  "  I  can't 
deny  it,  sir.     I  would  if  I  could." 

"  The  limited  diffusion  of  a  moral  sense  in  that  country  !"  exclaimed 
the  General.     "  The  absence  of  a  moral  dignity  in  man  ! " 

"  Ah  !"  sighed  all  the  Norrises,  quite  overwhelmed  with  despondency. 

"  I  couldn't  have  realised  it,"  pursued  the  General,  "  without  being 
located  on  the  spot.  Norris,  your  imagination  is  the  imagination  of  a 
strong  man,  but  you  couldn't  have  realised  it,  without  being  located  on  the 
spot  T 

"  Never,"  said  Mr.  Norris. 

"  The  ex-clusiveness,  the  pride,  the  form,  the  ceremony,"  exclaimed 
the  General,  emphasizing  the  article  more  vigorously  at  every  repetition. 
"  The  artificial  barriers  set  up  between  man  and  man  ;  the  division  of 
the  human  race  into  court  cards  and  plain  cards,  of  every  denomination, 
into  clubs,  diamonds,  spades — anything  but  hearts  !" 

"Ah  !"  cried  the  whole  family.     "  Too  true.  General  !" 

"  But  stay  ! "  cried  ]\Ir.  Norris  the  father,  taking  him  by  the  arm. 
"  Surely  you  crossed  in  the  Screw,  General  V 

"  Well  !  so  I  did,"  was  the  reply. 
1    "Possible  !"  cried  the  young  ladies.     "  Only  think  !" 

The  General  seemed  at  a  loss  to  understand  why  his  having  come 
home  in  the  Screw  should  occasion  such  a  sensation,  nor  did  he  seem 
at  all  clearer  on  the  subject  when  Mr.  Norris,  introducing  him  to 
Martin,  said — 

"  A  fellow-passenger  of  yours,  I  think  %  " 

"  Of  mine  !  "  exclaimed  the  General ;  "  No  !  " 

He  had  never  seen  Martin,  but  Martin  had  seen  him,  and  recognised 
him,  now  that  they  stood  face  to  face,  as  the  gentleman  who  had  stuck 
his  hands  in  his  pockets  towards  the  end  of  the  voyage,  and  walked  the 
deck  with  his  nostrils  dilated. 

Everybody  looked  at  Martin.  There  was  no  help  for  it.  The  truth 
must  out. 

"  I  came  over  in  the  same  ship  as  the  General,"  said  Martin,  "  but 
not  in  the  same  cabin.  It  being  necessary  for  me  to  observe  strict 
economy,  I  took  my  passage  in  the  steerage." 

If  the  General  had  been  carried  up  bodily  to  a  loaded  cannon,  and 
required  to  let  it  off  that  moment,  he  could  not  have  been  in  a  state 
of  greater  consternation  than  when  he  heard  these  words.  He,  Flad- 
dock, — Fladdock  in  full  militia  uniform,  Fladdock  the  General,  Fladdock 
the  caressed  of  foreign  noblemen, — expected  to  know  a  fellow  who  had 
come  over  in  the  steerage  of  a  line-of-packet  ship,  at  a  cost  of  four 
pound  ten  !  and  meeting  that  fellow  in  the  very  sanctuary  of  New 
York  fashion,  and  nestling  in  the  bosom  of  the  New  York  aristocracy  ! 
He  almost  laid  his  hand  upon  his  sword. 

A  death-like  stillness  fell  upon  the  Norrises.  If  this  story  should  get 
wind,  their  country  relation  had,  by  his  imprudence,  for  ever  disgraced 


220  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OE 

tliem.  They  were  tlie  bright  particular  stars  of  an  exalted  New  York 
sphere.  There  were  other  fashionable  spheres  above  them,  and  other 
fashionable  spheres  below,  and  none  of  the  stars  in  any  one  of  these 
spheres  had  anything  to  say  to  the  stars  in  any  other  of  these  spheres. 
But,  through  all  the  spheres  it  would  go  forth,  that  the  Norrises, 
deceived  by  gentlemanly  manners  and  appearances,  had,  falling  from 
their  high  estate,  "  received  "  a  dollarless  and  unknown  man.  0  guar- 
dian eagle  of  the  pure  Republic,  had  they  lived  for  this  ! 

"  You  will  allow  me,"  said  Martin,  after  a  terrible  silence,  "  to  take 
my  leave.  I  feel  that  I  am  the  cause  of  at  least  as  much  embarrassment 
here,  as  I  have  brought  upon  myself.  But  I  am  bound,  before  I  go,  to 
exonerate  this  gentleman,  who,  in  introducing  me  to  such  society,  was 
quite  ignorant  of  my  unworthiness,  I  assure  you." 

With  that  he  made  his  bow  to  the  Norrises,  and  walked  out  like  a 
man  of  snow,  very  cool  externally,  but  pretty  hot  within. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Mr.  Norris  the  father,  looking  with  a  pale  face 
on  the  assembled  circle  as  Martin  closed  the  door,  "  the  young  man  has 
this  night  beheld  a  refinement  of  social  manner,  and  an  easy  magni- 
ficence of  social  decoration,  to  which  he  is  a  stranger  in  his  own  country. 
Let  us  hope  it  may  awake  a  moral  sense  within  him." 

If  that  peculiarly  transatlantic  article,  a  moral  sense, — for  if  native 
statesmen,  orators,  and  pamphleteers,  are  to  be  believed,  America 
quite  monopolizes  the  commodity, — if  that  peculiarly  transatlantic 
article  be  supposed  to  include  a  benevolent  love  of  all  mankind,  cer- 
tainly Martin's  would  have  borne  just  then  a  deal  of  waking  :  for  as  he 
strode  along  the  street,  with  Mark  at  his  heels,  his  immoral  sense  was 
in  active  operation  ;  prompting  him  to  the  utterance  of  some  rather 
sanguinary  remarks,  which  it  was  well  for  his  own  credit  that  nobody  over- 
heard. He  had  so  far  cooled  down  however,  that  he  had  begun  to  laugh 
at  the  recollection  of  these  incidents,  when  he  heard  another  step  behind 
him,  and  turning  round  encountered  his  friend  Bevan,  quite  out  of  breath. 

He  drew  his  arm  through  Martin's,  and  entreating  him  to  walk 
slowly,  was  silent  for  some  minutes.     At  length  he  said  : 

"  I  hope  you  exonerate  me  in  another  sense  ?" 

"  How  do  you  mean  1 "  asked  Martin. 

"  I  hope  you  acquit  me  of  intending  or  foreseeing  the  termination  of 
our  visit.     But  I  scarcely  need  ask  you  that." 

"  Scarcely  indeed,"  said  Martin.  "  I  am  the  more  beholden  to  you 
for  your  kindness,  when  I  find  what  kind  of  stuff  the  good  citizens  here 
are  made  of." 

"  I  reckon,"  his  friend  returned,  "  that  they  are  made  of  pretty  much 
the  same  stuff  as  other  folks,  if  they  would  but  own  it,  and  not  set  up 
on  false  pretences." 

"  In  good  faith,  that 's  true,"  said  Martin. 

"  I  dare  say,"  resumed  his  friend,  "  you  might  have  such  a  scene  as 
that  in  an  English  comedy,  and  not  detect  any  gross  improbability  or 
anomaly  in  the  matter  of  it  1 " 

"  Yes  indeed  !  " 

•^'  Doubtless  it  is  more  ridiculous  here  than  anywhere  else,"  said  his 


MAETIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  221 

companion ;  "  but  our  professions  are  to  blame  for  that.  So  far  as  I 
myself  am  concerned,  I  may  add  that  I  was  perfectly  aware  from  the  first 
that  you  came  over  in  the  steerage^  for  I  had  seen  the  list  of  passengers^ 
and  knew  it  did  not  comprise  your  name." 

"  I  feel  more  obliged  to  you  than  before/'  said  Martin. 

"  Norris  is  a  very  good  fellow  in  his  way,"  observed  Mr.  Bevan. 

"  Is  he  1 "  said  Martin  drily. 

"  Oh  yes  !  there  are  a  hundred  good  points  about  him.  If  you  or 
anybody  else  addressed  him  as  another  order  of  being,  and  sued  to  him 
in  forma  pauperis,  he  would  be  all  kindness  and  consideration." 

"I  needn't  have  travelled  three  thousand  miles  from  home  to  find 
such  a  character  as  that,'''  said  Martin.  Neither  he  nor  his  friend  said 
anything  more  on  the  way  back  ;  each  appearing  to  find  sufficient 
occupation  in  his  own  thoughts. 

The  tea,  or  the  supper,  or  whatever  else  they  called  the  evening  meal, 
was  over  when  they  reached  the  Major's;  but  the  cloth,  ornamented  with  a 
few  additional  smears  and  stains,  Avas  still  upon  the  table.  At  one  end 
of  the  board  Mrs.  Jefierson  Brick  and  two  other  ladies  were  drinking 
tea — out  of  the  ordinary  course,  evidently,  for  they  were  bonneted  and 
shawled,  and  seemed  to  have  just  come  home.  By  the  light  of  three  flaring 
candles  of  different  lengths,  in  as  many  candlesticks  of  different 
patterns,  the  room  showed  to  almost  as  little  advantage  as  in  broad  day. 

These  ladies  were  all  three  talking  together  in  a  very  loud  tone  when 
Martin  and  his  friend  entered ;  but,  seeing  those  gentlemen,  they 
stopped  directly,  and  became  excessively  genteel,  not  to  say  frosty.  As 
they  went  on  to  exchange  some  few  remarks  in  whispers,  the  very  water 
in  the  tea-pot  might  have  fallen  twenty  degrees  in  temperature  beneath 
their  chilling  coldness. 

"  Have  you  been  to  meeting,  Mrs.  Brick  ? "  asked  Martin's  friend, 
with  something  of  a  roguish  twinkle  in  his  eye. 

"  To  lecture,  sir." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.     I  forgot.     You  don't  go  to  meeting,  I  think  ?" 

Here  the  lady  on  the  right  of  Mrs.  Brick  gave  a  pious  cough,  as  much 
as  to  say  "/do  !" — as,  indeed,  she  did,  nearly  every  night  in  the  week. 

"  A  good  discourse,  ma'am?"  asked  Mr.  Bevan,  addressing  this  lady. 

The  lady  raised  her  eyes  in  a  pious  manner,  and  answered  "  Yes." 
She  had  been  much  comforted  by  some  good,  strong,  peppery  doctrine, 
which  satisfactorily  disposed  of  all  her  friends  and  acquaintances,  and 
quite  settled  their  business.  Her  bonnet,  too,  had  far  outshone  every 
bonnet  in  the  congregation  :  so  she  was  tranquil  on  all  accounts. 

"What  course  of  lectures  are  you  attending  now,  ma'am?"  said 
Martin's  friend,  turning  again  to  ]Mrs.  Brick. 

"  The  Philosophy  of  the  Soul — on  Wednesdays." 

"  On  Mondays  ?" 

"  The  Philosophy  of  Crime." 

"On  Fridays?" 

"  The  Philosophy  of  Vegetables." 

"You  have  forgotten  Thursdays — the  Philosophy  of  Government, 
my  dear,"  observed  the  third  lady. 


222  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES   OF 

«  No,"  said  Mrs.  Brick.    "  That's  Tuesdays." 

"  So  it  is  !"  cried  the  ladj.  "  The  Philosophy  of  Matter  on  Thurs- 
days, of  course." 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  our  ladies  are  fully  employed,"  said  Bevan. 

"  Indeed  you  have  reason  to  say  so,"  answered  Martin.  "  Between 
these  very  grave  pursuits  abroad,  and  family  duties  at  home,  their  time 
must  be  pretty  well  engrossed." 

Martin  stopped  here,  for  he  saw  that  the  ladies  regarded  him  with  no 
very  great  favour,  though  what  he  had  done  to  deserve  the  disdainful 
expression  which  appeared  in  their  faces  he  was  at  a  loss  to  divine.  But 
on  their  going  up  stairs  to  their  bed-rooms — which  they  very  soon  did — 
Mr.  Bevan  informed  him  that  domestic  drudgery  was  far  beneath 
the  exalted  range  of  these  Philosophers,  and  that  the  chances  were 
a  hundred  to  one  that  neither  of  the  three  could  perform  the  easiest 
woman's  work  for  herself,  or  make  the  simplest  article  of  dress  for 
any  of  her  children. 

"  Though  whether  they  might  not  be  better  employed  with  even  such 
blunt  instruments  as  knitting-needles,  than  wdth  these  edge-tools,"  he 
said,  "  is  another  question ;  but  I  can  answer  for  one  thing — they  don' t 
often  cut  themselves.  Devotions  and  lectures  are  our  balls  and  concerts. 
They  go  to  these  places  of  resort,  as  an  escape  from  monotony  ;  look  at 
each  other's  clothes ;  and  come  home  again." 

"  When  you  say  '  home,'  do  you  mean  a  house  like  this  ?" 

"  Very  often.  But  I  see  you  are  tired  to  death,  and  will  wish  you 
good  night.  We  wdll  discuss  your  projects  in  the  morning.  You  cannot 
but  feel  already  that  it  is  useless  staying  here,  wdth  any  hope  of 
advancing  them.     You  will  have  to  go  farther." 

"  And  to  fare  worse  ?"  said  Martin,  pursuing  the  old  adage. 

"  Well,  I  hope  not.  But  sufficient  for  the  day,  you  know — Good 
night !" 

They  shook  hands  heartily,  and  separated.  As  soon  as  Martin  was 
left  alone,  the  excitement  of  novelty  and  change  which  had  sustained 
him  through  all  the  fatigues  of  the  day,  departed ;  and  he  felt  so 
thoroughly  dejected  and  worn  out,  that  he  even  lacked  the  energy  to 
crawl  up  stairs  to  bed. 

In  twelve  or  fifteen  hours,  how  great  a  change  had  fallen  on  his  hopes 
and  sanguine  plans  !  New  and  strange  as  he  was  to  the  ground  on 
which  he  stood,  and  to  the  air  he  breathed,  he  could  not — recalling  all 
that  he  had  crowded  into  that  one  day — but  entertain  a  strong  mis- 
giving that  his  enterprise  was  doomed.  Bash  and  ill-considered  as  it 
had  often  looked  on  ship-board,  but  had  never  seemed  on  shore,  it  wore 
a  dismal  aspect  now  that  frightened  him.  Whatever  thoughts  he  called 
up  to  his  aid,  they  came  upon  him  in  depressing  and  discouraging- 
shapes,  and  gave  him  no  relief.  Even  the  diamonds  on  his  finger 
sparkled  with  the  brightness  of  tears,  and  had  no  ray  of  hope  in  all 
their  brilliant  lustre. 

He  continued  to  sit  in  gloomy  rumination  by  the  stove — unmindful  of 
the  boarders  who  dropped  in  one  by  one  from  their  stores  and  counting- 
houses,  or  the  neighbouring  bar-rooms,  and  after  taking  long  pulls  from 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  223 

a  great  white  water-jug  upon  the  sideboard,  and  lingering  with  a  kind 
of  hideous  fascination  near  the  brass  spittoons,  lounged  heavily  to  bed — 
until  at  length  Mark  Tapley  came  and  shook  him  by  the  arm,  supposing 
him  asleep. 

"  Mark  !"  he  cried,  starting. 

"  All  right,  sir,"  said  that  cheerful  follower,  snuffing  with  his  fingers 
the  candle  he  bore.  "  It  ain't  a  very  large  bed,  your'n,  sir ;  and  a 
man  as  wasn't  thirsty  might  drink,  afore  breakfast,  all  the  water  you've 
got  to  wash  in,  and  afterwards  eat  the  towel.  But  you'll  sleep  without 
rocking  to-night,  sir." 

"  I  feel  as  if  the  house  were  on  the  sea/'  said  Martin,  staggering  when 
he  rose  ;  "  and  am  utterly  wretched." 

"  I'm  as  jolly  as  a  sandboy,  myself,  sir,"  said  Mark.  "But,  Lord,  I 
have  reason  to  be  !  I  ought  to  have  been  born  here  ;  that's  my  opinion. 
Take  care  hoAV  you  go" — for  they  were  now  ascending  the  stairs.  '-You 
recollect  the  gentleman  aboard  the  Screw  as  had  the  very  small  trunk, 
sir?" 

"  The  valise  ?     Yes." 

*'  Well,  sir,  there's  been  a  delivery  of  clean  clothes  from  the  wash  to- 
night, and  they're  put  outside  the  bed-room  doors  here.  If  you  take 
notice  as  we  go  up,  what  a  very  few  shirts  there  are,  and  what  a  many 
fronts,  you'll  penetrate  the  mystery  of  his  packing." 

But  Martin  was  too  weary  and  despondent  to  take  heed  of  anything, 
so  had  no  interest  in  this  discovery.  Mr.  Tapley,  nothing  dashed  by 
iiis  indifference,  conducted  him  to  the  top  of  the  house,  and  into  the  bed- 
chamber prepared  for  his  reception  :  which  was  a  very  little  narrow  room, 
with  half  a  window  in  it  j  a  bedstead  like  a  chest  without  a  lid ;  two 
chairs ;  a  piece  of  carpet,  such  as  shoes  are  commonly  tried  upon  at  a 
ready-made  establishment  in  England  ;  a  little  looking-glass  nailed 
against  the  wall ;  and  a  Avashing-table,  with  a  jug  and  ewer,  that  might 
have  been  mistaken  for  a  milk-pot  and  slop-basin. 

"  I  suppose  they  polish  themselves  with  a  dry  cloth  in  this  country," 
said  Mark.     "  They've  certainly  got  a  touch  of  the  'phoby,  sir." 

"  I  wish  you  would  pull  off  my  boots  for  me,"  said  Martin,  dropping 
into  one  of  the  chairs.     "  I  am  quite  knocked  up — dead  beat,  Mark." 

"  You  won't  say  that  to-morrow  morning,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley  ; 
"  nor  even  to-night,  sir,  when  you've  made  a  trial  of  this."  With  which 
he  produced  a  very  large  tumbler,  piled  up  to  the  brim  with  little 
blocks  of  clear  transparent  ice,  through  which  one  or  two  thin  slices  of 
lemon,  and  a  golden  liquid  of  delicious  appearance,  appeared  from  the 
still  depths  below,  to  the  loving  eye  of  the  spectator. 

"  What  do  you  call  this  ?"  said  Martin. 

But  Mr.  Tapley  made  no  answer  :  merely  plunging  a  reed  into  the 
mixture — which  caused  a  pleasant  commotion  among  the  pieces  of  ice — 
and  signifying  by  an  expressive  gesture  that  it  was  to  be  pumped  up 
through  that  agency  by  the  enraptured  drinker. 

Martin  took  the  glass,  with  an  astonished  look  ;  applied  his  lips  to  the 
reed  ;  and  cast  up  his  eyes  once  in  ecstacy.  He  paused  no  more  until 
the  goblet  was  drained  to  the  last  drop. 


224:  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  There,  sir ! "  said  Mark,  taking  it  from  him  with  a  triumphant  face ; 
"  If  ever  you  should  happen  to  be  dead  beat  again,  when  I  ain't  in  the 
way,  all  you've  got  to  do  is,  to  ask  the  nearest  man  to  go  and  fetch  a 
cobbler." 

"To  go  and  fetch  a  cobbler  !"  repeated  Martin. 

"This  wonderful  invention,  sir,"  said  Mark,  tenderly  patting  the  empty 
glass,  "  is  called  a  cobbler.  Sherry  cobbler  when  you  name  it  long ; 
cobbler,  when  you  name  it  short.  Now  you're  equal  to  having  your 
boots  took  off,  and  are,  in  every  particular  worth  mentioning,  another 
man." 

Having  delivered  himself  of  this  solemn  preface,  he  brought  the  boot- 
jack. 

"  Mind  !  I  am  not  going  to  relapse,  Mark,"  said  Martin  ;  "  but,  good 
Heaven,  if  we  should  be  left  in  some  wild  part  of  this  country  without 
goods  or  money  !" 

"  Well,  sir  1 "  replied  the  imperturbable  Tapley ;  "  from  what  we've 
seen  already,  I  don't  know  whether,  under  those  circumstances,  we 
shouldn't  do  better  in  the  wild  parts  than  in  the  tame  ones." 

"  Oh,  Tom  Pinch,  Tom  Pinch  !"  said  Martin,  in  a  thoughtful  tone  ; 
"  what  would  I  give  to  be  again  beside  you,  and  able  to  hear  your  voice, 
though  it  were  even  in  the  old  bed-room  at  Pecksniff's  ! " 

"  Oh,  Dragon,  Dragon  !"  echoed  Mark  cheerfully,  "  if  there  warn't  any 
water  between  you  and  me,  and  nothing  faint-hearted-like  in  going  back, 
I  don't  know  that  I  mightn't  say  the  same.  But  here  am  I,  Dragon,  in 
New  York,  America ;  and  there  are  you  in  Wiltshire,  Europe ;  and 
there's  a  fortune  to  make.  Dragon,  and  a  beautiful  young  lady  to  make 
it  for ;  and  whenever  you  go  to  see  the  Monument,  Dragon,  you  mustn't 
give  in  on  the  door-steps,  or  you'll  never  get  up  to  the  top  !" 

"  Wisely  said,  Mark,"  cried  Martin.     "  We  must  look  forward." 

"  In  all  the  story-books  as  ever  I  read,  sir,  the  people  as  looked  back- 
ward was  turned  into  stones,"  replied  Mark  ;  "  and  my  opinion  always 
was,  that  they  brought  it  on  themselves,  and  it  served  'em  right.  I  wish 
you  good  night,  sir,  and  pleasant  dreams  !" 

"  They  must  be  of  home,  then,"  said  Martin,  as  he  lay  down  in  bed. 

"  So  I  say,  too,"  whispered  Mark  Tapley,  when  he  was  out  of  hearing 
and  in  his  own  room  ;  ''for  if  there  don't  come  a  time  afore  we're  well 
out  of  this,  when  there'll  be  a  little  more  credit  in  keeping  up  one's 
jollity,  I'm  a  United  Statesman  !" 

Leaving  them  to  blend  and  mingle  in  their  sleep  the  shadows  of 
objects  afar  off,  as  they  take  fantastic  shapes  upon  the  wall  in  the  dim 
light  of  thought  without  control,  be  it  the  part  of  this  slight  chronicle 
— a  dream  within  a  dream — as  rapidly  to  change  the  scene,  and  cross 
the  ocean  to  the  English  shore. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  225 


CHAPTER   XVIIL 

DOES    BUSINESS    "WITH     THE    HOUSE     OF     ANTHONY    CHUZZLEWIT    AND     SON, 
FROM    WHICH    ONE    OF    THE    PARTNERS    RETIRES    UNEXPECTEDLY. 

Change  begets  change.  Nothing  propagates  so  fast.  If  a  man 
habituated  to  a  narrow  circle  of  cares  and  pleasures,  out  of  which  he 
seldom  travels,  step  beyond  it,  though  for  never  so  brief  a  space,  his 
departure  from  the  monotonous  scene  on  w^hich  he  has  been  an  actor  of 
importance,  would  seem  to  be  the  signal  for  instant  confusion.  As  if,  in 
the  gap  he  had  left,  the  wedge  of  change  were  driven  to  the  head,  rend- 
ing what  was  a  solid  mass  to  fragments ;  things  cemented  and  held 
together  by  the  usages  of  years,  burst  asunder  in  as  many  weeks. 
The  mine  which  Time  has  slowly  dug  beneath  familiar  objects,  is 
sprung  in  an  instant ;  and  what  was  rock  before,  becomes  but  sand 
and  dust. 

Most  men  at  one  time  or  other  have  proved  this  in  some  degree.  The 
extent  to  which  the  natural  laws  of  change  asserted  their  supremacy  in 
that  limited  sphere  of  action  which  Martin  had  deserted,  shall  be  faith- 
fully set  down  in  these  pages. 

"  What  a  cold  spring  it  is  !"  whimpered  old  Anthony,  drawing  near 
the  evening  fire.     "It  was  a  warmer  season,  sure,  when  I  was  young  !" 

"  You  needn't  go  scorching  your  clothes  into  holes,  whether  it  was  or 
not,"  observed  the  amiable  Jonas,  raising  his  eyes  from  yesterday's  news- 
paper.    "  Broadcloth  ain't  so  cheap  as  that  comes  to." 

'•'A  good  lad  !"  cried  the  father,  breathing  on  his  cold  hands,  and 
feebly  chafing  them  against  each  other.  "  A  prudent  lad  !  He  never 
delivered  himself  up  to  the  vanities  of  dress.     No,  no  !  " 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  would  though,  mind  you,  if  I  could  do  it  for 
nothing,"  said  his  son,  as  he  resumed  the  paper. 

"  Ah  !"  chuckled  the  old  man.     "7/^  indeed  ! — But  it 's  very  cold." 

"  Let  the  fire  be  !"  cried  Mr.  Jonas,  stopping  his  honoured  parent's 
hand  in  the  use  of  the  poker.  "  Do  you  mean  to  come  to  want  in  your 
old  age,  that  you  take  to  wasting  now  1 " 

"  There 's  not  time  for  that,  Jonas,"  said  the  old  man. 

"  Not  time  for  what  1 "  bawled  his  heir. 

"  For  me  to  come  to  want.     I  wish  there  was  ! " 

"  You  always  were  as  selfish  an  old  blade  as  need  be,"  said  Jonas,  in  a 
voice  too  low  for  him  to  hear,  and  looking  at  him  with  an  angry  frown. 
"  You  act  up  to  your  character.  You  wouldn't  mind  coming  to  want, 
wouldn't  you  1  I  dare  say  you  w^ouldn't.  And  your  own  flesh  and 
blood  might  come  to  want  too,  might  they,  for  anything  you  cared  1  Oh 
you  precious  old  flint ! " 

After  this  dutiful  address,  he  took  his  tea-cup  in  his  hand — for 
that  meal  was  in  progress,  and  the  father  and  son  and  Chuffey  were 
partakers  of  it.  Then,  looking  steadfastly  at  his  father,  and  stopping 
now  and  then  to  carry  a  spoonful  of  tea  to  his  lips,  he  proceeded  in  the 
same  tone,  thus : 

Q 


22 G  LIFE    AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Want,  indeed  !  You  're  a  nice  old  man  to  be  talking  of  want  at 
this  time  of  day.  Beginning  to  talk  of  want  are  you  ?  Well,  I  declare  t 
There  is  n't  time  ?  No,  I  should  hope  not.  But  you  'd  live  to  be  a 
couple  of  hundred  if  you  could ;  and  after  all  be  discontented.  / 
know  you  !" 

The  old  man  sighed,  and  still  sat  cowering  before  the  fire. 
Mr.  Jonas  shook  his  Britannia-metal  teaspoon  at  him,  and  taking  a 
loftier  position  went  on  to  argue  the  point  on  high  moral  grounds. 

"  If  you  're  in  such  a  state  of  mind  as  that,"  he  grumbled,  but  in  the 
same  subdued  key,  "  why  don't  you  make  over  your  property  1  Buy  an 
annuity  cheap,  and  make  your  life  interesting  to  yourself  and  everybody 
else  that  watches  the  speculation.  But  no,  that  wouldn't  suit  i/oic. 
That  would  be  natural  conduct  to  your  own  son,  and  you  like  to  be 
unnatural,  and  to  keep  him  out  of  his  rights.  Why,  I  should  be 
ashamed  of  myself  if  I  was  you,  and  glad  to  hide  my  head  in  the  what 
you  may  call  it." 

Possibly  this  general  phrase  supplied  the  place  of  grave,  or  tomb,  or 
sepulchre,  or  cemetery,  or  mausoleum,  or  other  such  word  which  the 
filial  tenderness  of  Mr.  Jonas  made  him  delicate  of  pronouncing.  He 
pursued  the  theme  no  further ;  for  GhufFey,  somehow  discovering,  from 
his  old  corner  by  the  fireside,  that  Anthony  was  in  the  attitude  of  a 
listener,  and  that  Jonas  appeared  to  be  speaking,  suddenly  cried  out, 
like  one  inspired  : 

"  He  is  your  own  son,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.     Your  own  son,  sir  !  " 

Old  Chuffey  little  suspected  what  depth  of  application  these  words 
had,  or  that,  in  the  bitter  satire  which  they  bore,  they  might  have  sunk 
into  the  old  man's  very  soul,  could  he  have  known  what  words  were  hang- 
ing on  his  own  son's  lips,  or  what  was  passing  in  his  thoughts.  But 
the  voice  diverted  the  current  of  Anthony's  reflections,  and  roused  him. 

"  Yes,  yes,  Chuffey,  Jonas  is  a  chip  of  the  old  block.  It 's  a  very 
old  block  now,  Chuffey,"  said  the  old  man,  with  a  strange  look  of 
discomposure. 

"Precious  old,"  assented  Jonas. 

"  No,  no,  no,"  said  Chuffey.  "  No,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Not  old  at 
all,  sir." 

"  Oh  !  He 's  worse  than  ever,  you  know  ! "  cried  Jonas,  quite 
disgusted.  "  Upon  my  soul,  father,  he 's  getting  too  bad.  Hold  your- 
tongue,  will  you  1 " 

"  He  says  you  're  wrong  !  "  cried  Anthony  to  the  old  clerk. 

"Tut,  tut  !"  was  Chuffey's  answer.  "I  know  better.  I  say  /le's 
wrong.  I  say  ke  's  wrong.  He  's  a  boy.  That 's  what  he  is.  So  are 
you,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit — -a  kind  of  boy.  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  You  're  quite  a 
boy  to  many  [  have  known  ;  you  're  a  boy  to  me  ;  you  're  a  boy  to- 
hundreds  of  us.     Don  't  mind  him  !  " 

With  which  extraordinary  speech — for  in  the  case  of  Chuffey  this  was  a 
burst  of  eloquence  without  a  parallel — the  poor  old  shadow  drew  through 
his  palsied  arm  his  master's  hand,  and  held  it  there,  with  his  own  folded; 
upon  it,  as  if  he  would  defend  him. 

"  I  grow  deafer  e\ery  day,  Chuff,"  said  Anthony,  with  as  much  softness 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  227 

of  manner,  or,  to  describe  it  more  correctly,  with  as  little  hardness  as  he 
was  capable  of  expressing. 

" No,  no,"  cried  Chuffey.  "No  you  don't.  What  if  you  did  ?  I've 
been  deaf  this  twenty  year." 

"  I  grow  blinder,  too,"  said  the  old  man,  shaking  his  head. 
"  That's  a  good  sign  !  "  cried  Chuffey.     "  Ha  !  ha  !  The  best  sign  in 
the  world  !     You  saw  too  well  before." 

He  patted  Anthony  upon  the  hand  as  one  might  comfort  a  child,  and 
drawing  the  old  man's  arm  still  further  through  his  own,  shook  his 
trembling  fingers  towards  the  spot  where  Jonas  sat,  as  though  he  would 
wave  him  off.  But  Anthony  remaining  quite  still  and  silent,  he  relaxed 
his  hold  by  slow  degrees  and  lapsed  into  his  usual  niche  in  the  corner  : 
merely  putting  forth  his  hand  at  intervals  and  touching  his  old  employer 
gently  on  the  coat,  as  with  the  design  of  assuring  himself  that  he  was 
yet  beside  him. 

Mr.  Jonas  was  so  very  much  amazed  by  these  proceedings  that  he 
could  do  nothing  but  stare  at  the  two  old  men,  until  Chuffey  had  fallen 
into  his  usual  state,  and  Anthony  had  sunk  into  a  doze  ;  when  he  gave 
some  vent  to  his  emotions  by  going  close  up  to  the  former  personage,  and 
making  as  though  he  would,  in  vulgar  parlance,  "  punch  his  head." 

"  They  've  been  carrying  on  this  game,"  thought  Jonas  in  a  brown 
study,  "  for  the  last  two  or  three  weeks.  I  never  saw  my  father  take  so 
much  notice  of  him  as  he  has  in  that  time.  What!  You're  legacy- 
hunting  are  you,  Mister  Chuff '.^     Eh  T' 

But  Chuffey  was  as  little  conscious  of  the  thought  as  of  the  bodily 
advance  of  Mr.  Jouas's  clenched  fist,  which  hovered  fondly  about  his  ear. 
When  he  had  scowled  at  him  to  his  heart's  content,  Jonas  took  the  candle 
from  the  table,  and  walking  into  the  glass  office,  produced  a  bunch  of 
keys  from  his  pocket.  With  one  of  these  he  opened  a  secret  drawer  in 
the  desk  :  peeping  stealthily  out,  as  he  did  so,  to  be  certain  that  the  two 
old  men  were  still  before  the  fire. 

"  All  as  right  as  ever,"  said  Jonas,  propping  the  lid  of  the  desk  open 
with  his  forehead,  and  unfolding  a  paper.  "Here's  the  will,  blister 
Cliuff.  Thirty  pound  a  year  for  your  maintenance,  old  boy,  and  all  the 
rest  to  his  only  son,  Jonas.  You  needn't  trouble  yourself  to  be  too 
affectionate.     You  won't  get  anything  by  it.     What's  that  ?" 

It  was  startling,  certainly.  A  face  on  the  other  side  of  the  glass  par- 
tition looking  curiously  in  :  and  not  at  him  but  at  the  paper  in  his  hand. 
For  the  eyes  were  attentively  cast  down  upon  the  writing,  and  were 
swiftly  raised  when  he  cried  out.  Then  they  met  his  own,  and  were  as 
the  eyes  of  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

Sufferino;  the  lid  of  the  desk  to  fall  with  a  loud  noise,  but  not  forget- 
ting  even  then  to  lock  it,  Jonas,  pale  and  breathless,  gazed  upon  this 
phantom.     It  moved,  opened  the  door,  and  walked  in. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ?"  cried  Jonas,  falling  back.  "  Who  is  it  ?  Where 
do  you  come  from  1     What  do  you  want  V 

"  Matter  ! "  cried  the  voice  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  Pecksniff  in  the  flesh 
smiled  amiably  upon  him.     "  The  matter  Mr.  Jonas!" 

"  What  are  you  prying  and  peering  about  here  for  V  said  Jonas, 

<^  2 


228  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

angrily.  "  What  do  you  mean  by  coming  up  to  town  in  tliis  \Yay,  and 
taking  one  unawares  ]  It 's  precious  odd  a  man  can't  read  the — the 
newspaper  in  his  own  office  without  being  startled  out  of  his  wits  by 
people  coming  in  without  notice.     Why  didn't  you  knock  at  the  door?" 

"  So  I  did  Mr.  Jonas,"  answered  Pecksniff,  "  but  no  one  heard  me.  I 
was  curious,"  he  added  in  his  gentle  way  as  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the 
young  man's  shoulder,  "  to  find  out  what  part  of  the  newspaper  inter- 
ested you  so  much ;  but  the  glass  was  too  dim  and  dirty," 

Jonas  glanced  in  haste  at  the  partition.  Well.  It  wasn't  very  clean. 
So  far  he  spoke  the  truth. 

"  Was  it  poetry  now  V  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  the  forefinger  of  his 
right  hand  with  an  air  of  cheerful  banter.  "  Or  was  it  politics  1  or  was  it  the 
price  of  stocks  ?  The  main  chance  Mr.  Jonas,  the  main  chance  I  suspect." 
i  "  You  ain't  far  from  the  truth,"  answered  Jonas,  recovering  himself  and 
snuffing  the  candle :  "  but  how  the  deuce  do  you  come  to  be  in  London 
again  ?  Ecod !  it 's  enough  to  make  a  man  stare,  to  see  a  fellow  looking 
at  him  all  of  a  sudden,  who  he  thought  was  sixty  or  seventy  miles  away.'* 

"  So  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  No  doubt  of  it  my  dear  Mr.  Jonas. 
For  while  the  human  mind  is  constituted  as  it  is — " 

"  Oh  bother  the  human  mind,"  interrupted  Jonas  with  impatience, 
"  what  have  you  come  up  for  1 " 

"  A  little  matter  of  business,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  which  has  arisen 
quite  unexpectedly." 

"  Oh ! "  cried  Jonas,  "  is  that  all  1  Well  !  Here  's  father  in  the  next 
room.  Hallo  father,  here  's  Pecksniff !  He  gets  more  addle-pated  every 
day  he  lives,  I  do  believe,"  muttered  Jonas,  shaking  his  honoured  parent 
roundly.  "  Don't  I  tell  you  Pecksniff's  here,  stupid-head  V 

The  combined  effects  of  the  shaking  and  this  loving  remonstrance  soon 
awoke  the  old  man,  who  gave  Mr.  Pecksniff  a  chuckling  welcome,  which 
was  attributable  in  part  to  his  being  glad  to  see  that  gentleman,  and  in 
part  to  his  unfading  delight  in  the  recollection  of  having  called  him  a 
hypocrite.  As  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  not  yet  taken  tea  (indeed  he  had  but 
an  hour  before  arrived  in  London)  the  remains  of  the  late  collation,  with 
a  rasher  of  bacon,  were  served  up  for  his  entertainment ;  and  as  Mr. 
Jonas  had  a  business  appointment  in  the  next  street,  he  stepped  out  to 
keep  it :  promising  to  return  before  Mr,  Pecksniff  could  finish  his  repast. 

"  And  now  my  good  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  Anthony  :  "  now  that 
we  are  alone,  pray  tell  me  what  I  can  do  for  you.  I  say  alone,  because 
I  believe  that  our  dear  friend  Mr.  Chuffey  is,  metaphysically  speaking, 
a — shall  I  say  a  dummy  ?"  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  his  sweetest  smile, 
and  his  head  very  much  on  one  side. 

"  He  neither  hears  us,"  replied  Anthony,  "  nor  sees  us," 

"  Why  then,"  said  Mr,  Pecksniff,  "  I  will  be  bold  to  say,  with  the 
utmost  sympathy  for  his  afllictions,  and  the  greatest  admiration  of  those 
excellent  qualities  which  do  equal  honour  to  his  head  and  to  his  heart, 
that  he  is  what  is  playfully  termed  a  dummy.  You  were  going  to 
observe,  my  dear  sir — " 

"  I  was  not  going  to  make  any  observation  that  I  know  of,"  replied 
the  old  man. 


MARTIlSr    CHUZZLEWIT.'  229 

"/was,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  mildly. 

"  Oh  !  you  were  ?   What  was  it  ? " 

"  That  I  never/'  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  previously  rising  to  see  that  the 
door  was  shut,  and  arranging  his  chair  when  he  came  back,  so  that  it 
could  not  be  opened  in  the  least  without  his  immediately  becoming  aware 
of  the  circumstance  :  "  that  I  never  in  my  life  was  so  astonished  as  by 
the  receipt  of  your  letter  yesterday.  That  you  should  do  me  the  honor 
to  wish  to  take  counsel  with  me  on  any  matter,  amazed  me ;  but  that 
you  should  desire  to  do  so  to  the  exclusion  even  of  Mr.  Jonas,  showed  an 
amount  of  confidence  in  one  to  whom  you  had  done  a  verbal  injury — 
merely  a  verbal  injury,  you  were  anxious  to  repair — which  gratified, 
which  moved,  which  overcame  me. " 

He  was  always  a  glib  speaker,  but  he  delivered  this  short  address  very 
glibly ;  having  been  at  some  pains  to  compose  it  outside  the  coach. 

Although  he  paused  for  a  reply,  and  truly  said  that  he  was  there  at 
Anthony's  request,  the  old  man  sat  gazing  at  him  in  profound  silence 
and  with  a  perfectly  blank  flice.  Nor  did  he  seem  to  have  the  least 
desire  or  impulse  to  pursue  the  conversation,  though  Mr.  Pecksniff 
looked  towards  the  door,  and  pulled  out  his  watch,  and  gave  him  many 
other  hints  that  their  time  was  short,  and  Jonas,  if  he  kept  his  word, 
would  soon  return.  But  the  strangest  incident  in  all  this  strange 
behaviour  was,  that  of  a  sudden — in  a  moment — so  swiftly  that  it  was 
impossible  to  trace  how,  or  to  observe  any  process  of  change — his  features 
fell  into  their  old  expression,  and  he  cried,  striking  his  hand  passion- 
ately upon  the  table  as  if  no  interval  at  all  had  taken  place  : 

"  Will  you  hold  your  tongue.  Sir,  and  let  me  speak  % " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  deferred  to  him  with  a  submissive  bow  ;  and  said 
within  himself,  "  I  knew  his  hand  was  changed,  and  that  his  writing 
staggered.     I  said  so  yesterday.      Ahem  !  Dear  me  !" 

"  Jonas  is  sweet  upon  your  daughter,  Pecksniff,"  said  the  old  man,  in 
his  usual  tone. 

"  We  spoke  of  that,  if  you  remember,  Sir,  at  Mrs.  Todgers's,"  replied 
the  courteous  architect. 

"  You  needn't  speak  so  loud,"  retorted  Anthony.  "  I'm  not  so  deaf 
as  that." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  certainly  raised  his  voice  pretty  high  :  not  so  much 
because  he  thought  Anthony  was  deaf,  as  because  he  felt  convinced  that 
his  perceptive  faculties  were  waxing  dim  :  but  this  quick  resentment  of 
his  considerate  behaviour  greatly  disconcerted  him,  and,  not  knowing 
what  tack  to  shape  his  course  upon,  he  made  another  inclination  of  the 
head,  yet  more  submissive  than  the  last. 

"  I  have  said,"  repeated  the  old  man,  "  that  Jonas  is  sweet  upon  your 
dauo-hter." 

"  A  charming  girl,  sir,"  murmured  Mr.  Pecksniff,  seeing  that  he 
waited  for  an  answer.  "  A  dear  girl,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  though  I  say  it 
who  should  not." 

"  You  know  better,"  cried  the  old  man,  advancing  his  weazen  face  at 
least  a  yard,  and  starting  forward  in  his  chair  to  do  it.  "  You  lie  1 
What,  you  will  be  a  hypocrite,  will  you  ?" 


230  LTFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  My  good  sir,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  began. 

"  Don't  call  me  a  good  sir,"  retorted  Antlionj,  "  and  don't  claim  to  be 
one  yourself.  If  your  daughter  was  what  you  would  have  me  believe, 
she  wouldn't  do  for  Jonas.  Being  what  she  is,  I  think  she  will.  He 
might  be  deceived  in  a  wife.  She  might  run  riot,  contract  debts,  and 
waste  his  substance.     Now  when  I  am  dead — ^" 

His  face  altered  so  horribly  as  he  said  the  word,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff 
really  was  fain  to  look  another  way. 

"■  It  will  be  worse  for  me  to  know  of  such  doings,  than  if  I  was  alive  : 
for  to  be  tormented  for  getting  that  together,  which  even  while  I  suffer 
for  its  acquisition  is  flung  into  the  very  kennels  of  the  streets,  would 
be  insupportable  torture.  No,"  said  the  old  man  hoarsely,  "let  that  be 
saved  at  least,  let  there  be  something  gained,  and  kept  fast  hold  of,  when 
so  much  is  lost." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Pecksniff,  "  these  are  unwholesome 
fancies ;  quite  unnecessary,  sir,  quite  uncalled  for,  I  am  sure.  The 
truth  is,  my  dear  sir,  that  you  are  not  well  !" 

"  Not  dying  though  ! "  cried  Anthony,  with  something  like  the  snarl 
of  a  wild  animal.  "  Not  yet !  There  are  years  of  life  in  me.  Why, 
look  at  him,"  pointing  to  his  feeble  clerk.  "  Death  has  no  right  to 
leave  him  standing,  and  to  mow  me  down." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  so  much  afraid  of  the  old  man,  and  so  completely 
taken  aback  by  the  state  in  which  he  found  him,  that  he  had  not  even 
presence  of  mind  enough  to  call  up  a  scrap  of  morality  from  the  great 
storehouse  within  his  own  breast.  Therefore  he  stammered  out  that  no 
doubt  it  was,  in  fairness  and  decency,  Mr.  Chuffey's  turn  to  expire  ;  and 
that  from  all  he  had  heard  of  Mr.  Chuffey,  and  the  little  he  had  the 
pleasure  of  knowing  of  that  gentleman,  personally,  he  felt  convinced  in 
his  own  mind  that  he  would  see  the  propriety  of  expiring  with  as  little 
delay  as  possible. 

"  Come  here  ! "  said  the  old  man,  beckoning  him  to  draw  nearer. 
''Jonas  will  be  my  heir,  Jonas  will  be  rich,  and  a  great  catch  for  you. 
You  know  that.     Jonas  is  sweet  upon  your  daughter." 

"  I  know  that  too,"  thought  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  for  you  have  said  it  often 
enough." 

"  He  might  get  more  money  than  with  her,"  said  the  old  man,  "  but 
she  will  help  him  to  take  care  of  what  they  have.  She  is  not  too  young 
or  heedless,  and  comes  of  a  good  hard  griping  stock.  But  don't  you 
play  too  fine  a  game.  She  only  holds  him  by  a  thread  ;  and  if  you 
draw  it  too  tight  (I  know  his  temper)  it  '11  snap.  Bind  him  when  he 's 
in  the  mood,  Pecksniff;  bind  him.  You're  too  deep.  In  your  way  of 
leading  him  on,  you  '11  leave  him  miles  behind.  Bah,  you  man  of  oil, 
have  I  no  eyes  to  see  how  you  have  angled  with  him  from  the  first?" 

"  Now  I  wonder,"  thought  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  at  him  with  a 
wistful  face,  "whether  this  is  all  he  has  to  say !" 

Old  Anthony  rubbed  his  hands  and  muttered  to  himself;  complained 
again  that  he  was  cold ;  drew  his  chair  before  the  fire ;  and,  sitting  with 
his  back  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  his  chin  sunk  down  upon  his  breast,  was, 
in  another  minute,  quite  regardless  or  forgetful  of  his  presence. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  231 

Uncouth  and  unsatisfactory  as  this  short  interview  had  been,  it  had 
furnished  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  a  hint  which,  supposing  nothing  further 
were  imparted  to  him,  repaid  the  journey  up,  and  home  again.  For 
the  good  gentleman  had  never  (for  want  of  an  opportunity)  dived  into 
the  depths  of  Mr.  Jonas's  nature ;  and  any  recipe  for  catching  such  a 
son-in-law  (much  more,  one  written  on  a  leaf  out  of  his  own  father's 
book)  was  worth  the  having.  In  order  that  he  might  lose  no  chance  of 
improving  so  fair  an  opportunity  by  allowing  Anthony  to  fall  asleep 
before  he  had  finished  all  he  had  to  say,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  the  disposal  of 
the  refreshments  on  the  table — a  work  to  which  he  now.  applied  himself 
in  earnest — resorted  to  many  ingenious  contrivances  for  attracting  his 
attention,  such  as  coughing,  sneezing,  clattering  the  teacups,  sharpening 
the  knives,  dropping  the  loaf,  and  so  forth.  But  all  in  vain,  for  Mr. 
Jonas  returned,  and  Anthony  had  said  no  more. 

"  What  !  my  father  asleep  again  ?  "  he  cried,  as  he  hung  up  his  hat, 
and  cast  a  look  at  him.     "  Ah  !  and  snoring.     Only  hear  !  " 

'•  He  snores  very  deep,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Snores  deep  1 "  repeated  Jonas.  "  Yes  j  let  him  alone  for  that. 
He  '11  snore  for  six,  at  any  time." 

"  Do  you  know,  Mr.  Jonas,"  said  Pecksniff,  "  that  I  think  your 
father  is — don't  let  me  alarm  you — breaking  ?  " 

"  Oh,  is  he  though,"  replied  Jonas,  with  a  shake  of  the  head  which 
expressed  the  closeness  of  his  dutiful  observation.  "  Ecod,  you  don't 
know  how  tough  he  is.     lie  ain't  upon  the  move  yet.'' 

"  It  struck  me  that  he  was  changed,  both  in  his  appearance  and 
manner,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  That 's  all  you  knoAV  about  it,"  returned  Jonas,  seating  himself  with 
a  melancholy  air.  "  He  never  was  better  than  he  is  now.  How  are 
they  all  at  home  1     How  's  Charity  V 

"  Blooming,  Mr.  Jonas,  blooming." 

"  And  the  other  one — how  's  she  V 

"Volatile  trifler  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  fondly  musing.  "She  is 
well — she  is  well.  Roving  from  parlour  to  bed-room,  Mr.  Jonas,  like 
the  bee  ;  skimming  from  post  to  pillar,  like  the  butterfly  ;  dipping  her 
young  beak  into  our  currant  wine,  like  the  humming-bird  !  Ah  !  were 
she  a  little  less  giddy  than  she  is  ;  and  had  she  but  the  sterling 
qualities  of  Cherry,  my  young  friend  !" 

"  Is  she  so  very  giddy,  then  V  asked  Jonas. 
■   "  Well,  well  ! "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  great  feeling  ;  "  let  me  not 
"be  hard  upon  my  child.     Beside  her  sister  Cherry  she  appears  so.     A 
strange  noise  that,  Mr.  Jonas  !" 

"  Something  wrong  in  the  clock,  I  suppose,"  said  Jonas,  glancing 
toAvards  it.     "  So  the  other  one  ain't  your  favourite,  ain't  she  ?" 

The  fond  father  was  about  to  reply,  and  had  already  summoned  into 
his  face  a  look  of  the  intensest  sensibility,  when  the  sound  he  had 
already  noticed  was  repeated. 

"  Upon  ray  word,  Mr.  Jonas,  that  is  a  very  extraordinary  clock," 
-said  Pecksniff". 

It  would  have  been,  if  it  had  made  the  noise  which  startled  them  : 


232  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

but  another  kind  of  time-piece  was  fast  running  down,  and  from  that  the 
sound  proceeded.  A  scream  from  ChufFey,  rendered  a  hundred  times 
more  loud  and  formidable  by  his  silent  habits,  made  the  house  ring 
from  roof  to  cellar  ;  and,  looking  round,  they  saw  Anthony  Chuzzlewit 
extended  on  the  floor,  with  the  old  clerk  upon  his  knees  beside  him. 

He  had  fallen  from  his  chair  in  a  fit,  and  lay  there,  battling  for  each 
gasp  of  breath,  with  every  shrivelled  vein  and  sinew  starting  in  its 
place,  as  it  were  bent  on  bearing  witness  to  his  age,  and  sternly  pleading 
with  Nature  against  his  recovery.  It  was  frightful  to  see  how  the 
principle  of  life,  shut  up  within  his  withered  frame,  fought  like  a 
strong  devil,  mad  to  be  released,  and  rent  its  ancient  prison-hous'e. 
A  young  man  in  the  fulness  of  his  vigour,  struggling  with  so  much 
strength  of  desperation,  would  have  been  a  dismal  sight ;  but  an  old, 
old,  shrunken  body,  endowed  with  preternatural  might,  and  giving  the 
lie  in  every  motion  of  its  every  limb  and  joint  to  its  enfeebled  aspect, 
was  a  hideous  spectacle  indeed. 

They  raised  him  up,  and  fetched  a  surgeon  with  all  haste,  who  bled 
the  patient,  and  applied  some  remedies ;  but  the  fits  held  him  so 
long,  that  it  was  past  midnight  when  they  got  him — quiet  now,  but 
quite  unconscious  and  exhausted — into  bed. 

"  Don't  go,"  said  Jonas,  putting  his  ashy  lips  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  ear, 
and  whispering  across  the  bed.  "  It  v/as  a  mercy  you  were  present 
when  he  was  taken  ill.     Some  one  might  have  said  it  was  my  doing." 

"  Your  doing ! "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  I  don't  know  but  they  might,"  he  replied,  wiping  the  moisture 
from  his  white  face.  "  People  say  such  things.  How  does  he  look 
now  ?" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  shook  his  head. 

"  I  used  to  joke,  you  know,"  said  Jonas  :  "  but  I — I  never  wished 
him  dead.     Do  you  think  he  's  very  bad?" 

"  The  doctor  said  he  was.     You  heard,"  was  Mr.  Pecksniff's  answer. 

'^  Ah  !  but  he  might  say  that  to  charge  us  more,  in  case  of  his  getting 
well,"  said  Jonas.  "  You  mustn't  go  away,  Pecksniff.  Now  it 's  come 
to  this,  I  wouldn't  be  without  a  witness  for  a  thousand  pound." 

ChufFey  said  not  a  word,  and  heard  not  a  word.  He  had  sat  himself 
down  in  a  chair  at  the  bedside,  and  there  he  remained,  motionless  ; 
except  that  he  sometimes  bent  his  head  over  the  pillow,  and  seemed  to- 
listen.  He  never  changed  in  this.  Though  once  in  the  dreary  night 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  having  dozed,  awoke  with  a  confused  impression  that  he 
had  heard  him  praying,  and  strangely  mingling  figures — not  of  speech, 
but  arithmetic — with  his  broken  prayers. 

Jonas  sat  there,  too,  all  night  :  not  where  his  father  could  have  seen 
him,  had  his  consciousness  returned,  but  hiding,  as  it  were,  behind  him,, 
and  only  reading  how  he  looked  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  eyes.  He,  the 
coarse  upstart,  who  had  ruled  the  house  so  long — that  craven  cur, 
who  was  afraid  to  move,  and  shook  so  that  his  very  shadow  fluttered  on 
the  wall  ! 

It  was  broad,  bright,  stirring  day  when,  leaving  the  old  clerk  to- 
watch  him,  they  went  down  to  breakfast.     People  hurried  up  and  down 


^>i^^  iri!!^<:^kic>^./66>?iy  cj/"  ^iz/dAn^^^i6A 


> 


b 


MARTIN    CHFZZLEWIT.  Jdo 

the  street ;  windows  and  doors  were  opened  ;  tliieves  and  beggars  took 
their  usual  posts  ;  workmen  bestirred  themselves  ;  tradesmen  set  forth 
their  shops  ;  bailiffs  and  constables  were  on  the  watch  ;  all  kinds  of 
human  creatures  strove,  in  their  several  ways,  as  hard  to  live,  as  the  one 
sick  old  man  who  combated  for  every  grain  of  sand  in  his  fast-emptying 
glass,  as  eagerly  as  if  it  were  an  empire. 

"  If  anything  happens,  Pecksniff',''  said  Jonas,  "  you  must  promise 
me  to  stop  here  till  it's  all  over.    You  shall  see  that  I  do  what's  right." 

"  I  know  that  you  will  do  what's  right,  Mr.  Jonas,"  said  Pecksniff. 

"  Yes,  yes,  but  I  won't  be  doubted.  No  one  shall  have  it  in  his  power 
to  say  a  syllable  against  me,"  he  returned.  "  I  know  how  people  will 
talk. — Just  as  if  he  wasn't  old,  or  I  had  the  secret  of  keeping  him 
alive !" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  promised  that  he  would  remain,  if  circumstances  should 
render  it  in  his  esteemed  friend's  opinion  desirable  ;  and  they  were 
finishing  their  meal  in  silence,  when  suddenly  an  apparition  stood  before 
them,  so  ghastly  to  the  view,  that  Jonas  shrieked  aloud,  and  both  recoiled 
in  horror. 

Old  Anthony,  dressed  in  his  usual  clothes,  was  in  the  room — beside 
the  table.  He  leaned  upon  the  shoulder  of  his  solitary  friend  ;  and  on 
his  livid  face,  and  on  his  horny  hands,  and  in  his  glassy  eyes,  and  traced 
by  an  eternal  finger  in  the  very  drops  of  sweat  upon  his  brow,  was  one 
word — Death. 

He  spoke  to  them — in  something  of  his  own  voice  too,  but  sharpened 
and  made  hollow,  like  a  dead  man's  face.  What  he  would  have  said, 
God  knows.  He  seemed  to  utter  words,  but  they  were  such  as  man  had 
never  heard.  And  this  was  the  most  fearful  circumstance  of  all,  to  see 
him  standing  there,  gabbling  in  an  unearthly  tongue. 

"He's  better  now,"  said  ChufFey.  "Better  now.  Let  him  sit  in  his 
old  chair,  and  he'll  be  well  again.  I  told  him  not  to  mind.  I  said  so, 
yesterday." 

They  put  him  in  his  easy-chair,  and  wheeled  it  near  the  window  ; 
then  setting  open  the  door,  exposed  him  to  the  free  current  of  morning 
air.  But  not  all  the  air  that  is,  nor  all  the  winds  that  ever  blew  'twixt 
Heaven  and  Earth,  could  have  brought  new  life  to  him.  Plunge  him  to 
the  throat  in  golden  pieces  now,  and  his  heavy  fingers  should  not  close 
on  one. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  READER  IS  BROUGHT  INTO  COMMUNICATION  WITH  SOME  PROFESSIONAL 
PERSONS,  AND  SHEDS  A  TEAR  OVER  THE  FILIAL  PIETY  OP  GOOD  MR. 
JONAS. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  in  a  hackney  cabriolet,  for  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  had 
said  "  Spare  no  expense."  Mankind  is  evil  in  its  thoughts  and  in  its 
base  constructions,  and  Jonas  was  resolved  it  should  not  have  an  inch 
to  stretch  into  an  ell  against  him.  It  never  should  be  charged  upon 
his  father's  son  that  he  had  grudged  the  money  for  his  father's  funeral. 


234  LIFE    AXD    ADVENTURES    OF 

Hence,  until  tlie  obsequies  should  be  concluded,  Jonas  bad  taken  for  bis 
motto  "  Spend,  and  spare  not !" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  been  to  the  undertaker,  and  was  now  upon  bis  waj 
to  another  otHcer  in  the  train  of  mourning — a  female  functionary,  a  nurse, 
and  watcher,  and  performer  of  nameless  offices  about  the  persons  of  the 
dead — whom  he  had  recommended.  Her  name,  as  Mr.  Pecksniff 
gathered  from  a  scrap  of  writing  in  bis  band,  was  Gamp  ;  her  residence 
in  Kingsgate  Street,  High  Holborn.  So  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  backnej 
cab,  was  rattling  over  Holborn  stones,  in  quest  of  Mrs,  Gamp. 

This  lady  lodged  at  a  bird-fancier's  ;  next  door  but  one  to  the  cele- 
brated mutton-pie  shop,  and  directly  opposite  to  the  original  cat's 
meat  warehouse  ;  the  renown  of  which  establishments  was  duly  heralded 
on  their  respective  fronts.  It  was  a  little  house,  and  this  was  the  more 
convenient ;  for  Mrs.  Gamp  being,  in  her  highest  walk  of  ai't,  a  monthly 
nurse,  or,  as  her  sign-board  boldly  had  it,  "Midwife,"  and  lodging  in  the 
first-floor-front,  was  easily  assailable  at  night  by  pebbles,  walking-sticks, 
and  fragments  of  tobacco  pipe  :  all  much  more  efficacious  than  the 
street-door  knocker,  which  was  so  constructed  as  to  wake  the  street  Avitli 
ease,  and  even  spread  alarms  of  fire  in  Holborn,  without  making  the 
smallest  impression  on  the  premises  to  which  it  was  addressed. 

It  chanced  on  this  particular  occasion  that  Mrs.  Gamp  had  been  up 
all  the  previous  night,  in  attendance  upon  a  ceremony  to  which  the 
usage  of  gossips  has  given  that  name  which  expresses,  in  two  syllables, 
the  curse  pronounced  on  Adam.  It  chanced  that  Mrs.  Gamp  bad  not 
been  regularly  engaged,  but  had  been  called  in  at  a  crisis,  in  consequence 
of  her  great  repute,  to  assist  anothfer  professional  lady  with  her  advice  ; 
and  thus  it  happened  that,  all  points  of  interest  in  the  case  being  over, 
Mrs.  Gamp  had  come  home  again  to  the  bird-fancier's,  and  gone  to  bed. 
So  when  Mr.  Pecksniff  drove  up  in  the  hackney  cab,  Mrs.  Gamp's  cur- 
tains were  drawn  close,  and  Mrs.  Gamp  was  fast  asleep  behind  them. 

If  the  bird-fancier  had  been  at  home,  as  he  ought  to  have  been,  there 
would  have  been  no  great  harm  in  this  ;  but  he  was  out,  and  his  shop 
was  closed.  The  shutters  were  down  certainly  ;  and  in  every  pane  of 
glass  there  was  at  least  one  tiny  bird  in  a  tiny  bird-cage,  twittering  and 
hopping  his  little  ballet  of  despair,  and  knocking  his  bead  against  the 
roof  j  while  one  unhappy  goldfinch  who  lived  outside  a  red  villa  with 
his  name  on  the  door,  drew  the  water  for  his  own  drinking,  and  mutely 
appealed  to  some  good  man  to  drop  a  farthing's  worth  of  poison  in  it. 
Still,  the  door  was  shut.  Mr.  Pecksniff  tried  the  latch,  and  shook  it, 
causing  a  cracked  bell  inside  to  ring  most  mournfully ;  but  no  one  came. 
The  bird-fancier  was  an  easy  shaver  also,  and  a  fashionable  hair-dresser 
also  ;  and  perhaps  he  had  been  sent  for,  express,  from  the  court  end  of 
the  town,  to  trim  a  lord,  or  cut  and  curl  a  lady  ;  but  however  that  might 
be,  there,  upon  his  own  ground,  he  was  not ;  nor  was  there  any  more 
distinct  trace  of  him  to  assist  the  imagination  of  an  enquirer,  than  a 
professional  print  or  emblem  of  his  calling  (much  favored  in  the  trade), 
representing  a  hair-dresser  of  easy  manners  curling  a  lady  of  distin- 
guished fashion,  in  the  presence  of  a  patent  upright  grand  piano. 

Noting  these  circumstances,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  the  innocence  of  bis 


i 


ec/c/yn-^//  iPT^y  n^^  ..//i/Jd/^oTi 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  265 

heart,  applied  himself  to  the  knocker  ;  but  at  the  very  first  double 
knock,  every  window  in  the  street  became  alive  with  female  heads  ;  and 
"before  he  could  repeat  the  performance,  whole  troops  of  married  ladies 
(some  about  to  trouble  Mrs.  Gamp  themselves,  very  shortly)  came  flock- 
ing round  the  steps  ;  all  crying  out  with  one  accord,  and  with  uncom- 
mon interest,  "  Knock  at  the  winder,  sir,  knock  at  the  winder.  Lord 
bless  you,  don't  lose  no  more  time  than  you  can  help — knock  at  the 
winder ! " 

Acting  upon  this  suggestion,  and  borrowing  tlie  driver's  whip  for  the 
purpose,  Mr.  Pecksniff  soon  made  a  commotion  among  the  first-floor 
flower-pots,  and  roused  Mrs.  Gamp,  whose  voice — to  the  great  satisfac- 
tion of  the  matrons — was  heard  to  say,  "  I'm  coming." 

"  He 's  as  pale  as  a  muffin,"  said  one  lady,  in  allusion  to  Mr.  Pecksniff*. 

"  So  he  ought  to  be,  if  he 's  the  feelings  of  a  man,"  observed  another, 

A  third  lady  (with  her  arms  folded)  said  she  wished  he  had  chosen 
•any  other  time  for  fetching  Mrs.  Gamp,  but  it  alwaj-s  happened  so  with 
Jier. 

It  gave  Mr.  Pecksniff  much  uneasiness  to  find  from  these  remarks 
that  he  was  supposed  to  have  come  to  Mrs.  Gamp  upon  an  errand  touch- 
ing— not  the  close  of  life,  but  the  other  end.  jMrs.  Gamp  herself  was 
under  the  same  impression,  for  throwing  open  the  window,  she  cried 
behind  the  curtains,  as  she  hastily  attired  herself — 

"  Is  it  Mrs.  Perkins  ?  " 

"Nal"  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff,  sharply,  "nothing  of  the  sort.'' 

"What,  Mr.  Whilks!"  cried  Mrs^Gamp.  "Don't  say  it's  you, 
Mr.  Whilks,  and  that  poor  creetur  Mrs.  Whilks  with  not  even  a  pin- 
cushion ready.     Don't  say  it 's  you,  Mr.  Whilks !  " 

"  It  isn^-  Mr.  Whilks,"  said  Pecksniff.  "  I  don't  know  the  man. 
Nothing  of  the  kind.  A  gentleman  is  dead  ;  and  some  person  being 
wanted  in  the  house,  you  have  been  recommended  by  Mr.  Mould,  the 
undertaker." 

As  she  was  by  this  time  in  a  condition  to  appear,  Mrs.  Gamp,  who 
had  a  face  for  all  occasions,  looked  out  of  window  with  her  mourning 
countenance,  and  said  she  would  be  down  directly.  But  the  matrons 
took  it  very  ill,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff's  mission  was  of  so  unimportant  a 
kind  j  and  the  lady  with  her  arms  folded  rated  him  in  good  round 
terms,  signifying  that  she  would  be  glad  to  know  what  he  meant  by 
terrifying  delicate  females  "  with  his  corpses  ; "  and  giving  it  as  her 
opinion  that  he  was  c^uite  ugly  enough  to  know  better.  The  other 
ladies  were  not  at  all  behind-hand  in  expressing  similar  sentiments  ; 
and  the  children,  of  whom  some  scores  had  now  collected,  hooted  and 
defied  Mr.  Pecksniff  quite  savagely.  So  when  Mrs.  Gamp  appeared, 
the  unoffending  gentleman  was  glad  to  hustle  her  with  very  little 
ceremony  into  the  cabriolet,  and  drive  off  overwhelmed  with  popular 
execration. 

Mrs.  Gamp  had  a  large  bundle  with  her,  a  pair  of  pattens,  and  a 
species  of  gig  umbrella ;  the  latter  article  in  colour  like  a  faded  leaf, 
except  where  a  circular  patch  of  a  lively  blue  had  been  dexterously  let 
in  at  the  top.     She  was  much  flurried  by  the  haste  she  had  made,  and 


236  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    CF 

laboured  under  the  most  erroneous  views  of  cabriolets,  wliich  she  appeared 
to  confound  with  mail-coaches  or  stage-waggons,  inasmuch  as  she  was  con- 
stantly endeavouring  for  the  first  half  mile  to  force  her  luggage  through 
the  little  front  window,  and  clamouring  to  the  driver  to  "  put  it  in  the 
boot."  When  she  was  disabused  of  this  idea,  her  whole  being  resolved 
itself  into  an  absorbing  anxiety  about  her  pattens,  with  which  she  played 
innumerable  games  at  quoits,  on  Mr.  Pecksniff's  legs.  It  was  not  until 
they  were  close  upon  the  house  of  mourning  that  she  had  enough 
composure  to  observe — 

"  And  so  the  gentleman  's  dead,  sir  !  Ah  !  The  more's  the  pity  " — 
she  didn't  even  know  his  name.  "  But  it 's  w^hat  we  must  all  come  to. 
It 's  as  certain  as  being  born,  except  that  we  can't  make  our  calculations 
as  exact.     Ah  !     Poor  dear  !  " 

She  was  a  fat  old  woman,  this  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  a  husky  voice  and  a 
moist  eye,  which  she  had  a  remarkable  power  of  turning  up,  and  only 
showing  the  white  of.  Having  very  little  neck,  it  cost  her  some  trouble 
to  look  over  herself,  if  one  may  say  so,  at  those  to  whom  she  talked. 
She  wore  a  very  rusty  black  gown,  rather  the  worse  for  snuff,  and  a 
shawl  and  bonnet  to  correspond.  In  these  dilapidated  articles  of  dress 
she  had,  on  principle,  arrayed  herself,  time  out  of  mind,  on  such  occa- 
sions as  the  present ;  for  this  at  once  expresed  a  decent  amount  of 
veneration  for  the  deceased,  and  invited  the  next  of  kin  to  present  her 
with  a  fresher  suit  of  weeds  :  an  appeal  so  frequently  successful,  that 
the  very  fetch  and  ghost  of  Mrs.  Gamp,  bonnet  and  all,  might  be  seen 
hanging  up,  any  hour  in  the  day,  in  at  least  a  dozen  of  the  second-hand 
clothes  shops  about  Holborn.  The  face  of  Mrs.  Gamp — the  nose  in 
particular — was  somewhat  red  and  swoln,  and  it  was  difficult  to  enjoy 
her  society  without  becoming  conscious  of  a  smell  of  spirits.  Like  most 
persons  who  have  attained  to  great  eminence  in  their  profession,  she 
took  to  hers  very  kindly ;  insomuch,  that  setting  aside  her  natural  pre- 
dilections as  a  woman,  she  went  to  a  lying-in  or  a  laying-out  with  equal 
zest  and  relish. 

"  Ah  ! "  repeated  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  for  it  was  always  a  safe  sentiment  in 
cases  of  mourning.  "  Ah  dear  !  When  Gamp  was  summonsed  to  his 
long  home,  and  I  see  him  a  lying  in  Guy's  Hospital  with  a  penny-piece 
on  each  eye,  and  his  wooden  leg  under  his  left  arm,  I  thought  I  should 
have  fainted  away.     But  I  bore  up." 

If  certain  whispers  current  in  the  Kingsgate  Street  circles  had  any 
truth  in  them,  she  had  indeed  borne  up  surprisingly ;  and  had  exerted 
such  uncommon  fortitude,  as  to  dispose  of  Mr.  Gamp's  remains  for  the 
benefit  of  science.  But  it  should  be  added,  in  fairness,  that  this  had 
happened  twenty  years  ago  ;  and  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gamp  had  long 
been  separated,  on  the  ground  of  incompatibility  of  temper  in  their 
drink. 

"  You  have  become  indifferent  since  then,  I  suppose  ? "  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff.     "  Use  is  second  nature,  Mrs.  Gamp." 

"  You  may  well  say  second  nater,  sir,"  returned  that  lady.  "  One's 
first  ways  is  to  find  sich  things  a  trial  to  the  feelings  ;  and  so  is  one's 
lasting  custom.     If  it  wasn't  for  the  nerve  a  little  sip  of  liquor  gives  me 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  237 

(I  never  Avas  able  to  do  more  than  taste  it)  I  never  could  go  through 
with  what  I  sometimes  have  to  do.  '  Mrs.  Harris/  I  sajs,  at  the  very 
last  case  as  ever  I  acted  in,  which  it  was  but  a  young  person  ;  '  Mrs. 
Harris,'  I  says,  '  leave  the  bottle  on  the  chimley-piece,  and  don't  ask  me 
to  take  none,  but  let  me  put  my  lips  to  it  when  I  am  so  dispoged,  and 
then  I  will  do  what  I  'm  engaged  to  do,  according  to  the  best  of  my 
ability.'  '  Mrs.  Gamp,'  she  says,  in  answer,  '  if  ever  there  v/as  a  sober 
creetur  to  be  got  at  eighteen  pence  a  day  for  working  people,  and  three 
and  six  for  gentlefolks — night  watching,' "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with 
emphasis,  "'being  a  extra  charge — you  are  that  inwalable  person.' 
'  Mrs.  Harris,'  I  says  to  her,  don't  name  the  charge,  for  if  I  could  afford 
to  lay  all  my  feller  creeturs  out  for  nothink,  I  would  gladly  do  it ;  sich 
is  the  love  I  bear  'em.  But  what  I  always  says  to  them  as  has  the 
management  of  matters,  Mrs.  Harris '  " — here  she  kept  her  eye  on 
Mr.  Pecksniff — " '  be  they  gents  or  be  they  ladies — is,  don't  ask  me 
whether  I  won't  take  none,  or  whether  I  will,  but  leave  the  bottle  on 
the  chimley  piece,  and  let  me  put  my  lips  to  it  when  I  am  so  dispoged.' " 

The  conclusion  of  this  affecting  narrative  brought  them  to  the  house. 
In  the  passage  they  encountered  Mr.  Mould  the  undertaker  :  a  little 
elderly  gentleman,  bald,  and  in  a  suit  of  black  ;  with  a  note-book  in 
his  hand,  a  massive  gold  watch-chain  dangling  from  his  fob,  and  a  face 
in  which  a  queer  attempt  at  melancholy  was  at  odds  with  a  smirk  of 
satisfaction;  so  that  he  looked  as  a  man  might  who,  in  the  very  act 
of  smacking  his  lips  over  choice  old  wine,  tried  to  make  believe  it  was 
physic. 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Gamp,  and  how  are  you,  Mrs.  Gamp  V  said  this  gentle- 
man, in  a  voice  as  soft  as  his  step. 

"  Pretty  well,  I  thank  you,  sir,"  dropping  a  curtsey. 

''  You  '11  be  very  particular  here,  Mrs.  Gamp.  This  is  not  a  common 
case,  Mrs.  Gamp.  Let  everything  be  very  nice  and  comfortable,  Mrs. 
Gamp,  if  you  please,"  said  the  undertaker,  shaking  his  head  with  a 
solemn  air. 

"  It  shall  be,  sir,"  she  replied,  curtseying  again.  "  You  knows  me  of 
old,  sir,  I  hope." 

"  I  hope  so,  too,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  the  undertaker  ;  "  and  I  think 
so  also."  Mrs.  Gamp  curtseyed  again.  "  This  is  one  of  the  most  im- 
pressive cases,  sir,"  he  continued,  addressing  Mr.  Pecksniff,  '-'that  I 
have  seen  in  the  whole  course  of  my  professional  experience." 

"Indeed,  Mr.  Mould  !"  cried  that  gentleman. 

"  Such  affectionate  regret,  sir,  I  never  saw.  There  is  no  limitation 
— there  is  positively  no  limitation, '" — opening  his  eyes  wide,  and 
standing  on  tiptoe,  "  in  point  of  expense.  I  have  orders,  sir,  to  put 
on  my  whole  establishment  of  mutes  ;  and  mutes  come  very  dear, 
Mr.  Pecksniff ;  not  to  mention  their  drink.  To  provide  silver-plated 
handles  of  the  very  best  description,  ornamented  with  angels'  heads 
from  the  most  expensive  dies.  To  be  perfectly  profuse  in  feathers.  In 
short,  sir,  to  turn  out  something  absolutely  gorgeous." 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Jonas  is  an  excellent  man,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
'     "  I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  what  is  filial  in  my  time,  sir,"  retorted 


238  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Mould,  "  and  of  what  is  unfilial  too.  It  is  our  lot.  We  come  into  the 
knowledge  of  those  secrets.  But  anything  so  filial  as  this  ;  anything 
so  honourable  to  human  nature  ;  so  calculated  to  reconcile  all  of  us  to 
the  world  we  live  in  ;  never  yet  came  under  my  observation.  It  only 
proves,  sir,  v/hat  was  so  forcibly  observed  by  the  lamented  theatrical  poet 
buried — at  Stratford — that  there  is  good  in  everything." 

"It  is  very  pleasant  to  hear  you  say  so,  Mr.  Mould,"  observed 
Pecksniff. 

"  You  are  very  kind,  sir.  And  what  a  man  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  was, 
sir  !  Ah  !  what  a  man  he  was.  You  may  talk  of  your  lord  mayors,"^ 
said  Mould,  waving  his  hand  at  the  public  in  general,  "  your  sheriffs, 
your  common  councilmen,  your  trumpery;  but  show  me  a  man  in  this 
city  who  is  worthy  to  walk  in  the  shoes  of  the  departed  Mr.  Chuzzlewit. 
No,  no,"  cried  Mould,  with  bitter  sarcasm.  "  Hang  'em  up,  hang  'em 
up  ;  sole  'em  and  heel  'em,  and  have  'em  ready  for  his  son  against  he  'a 
old  enough  to  wear  'em  ;  but  don't  try  'em  on  yourselves,  for  they  won't 
fit  you.  We  knew  him,"  said  Mould,  in  the  same  biting  vein,  as  he 
pocketed  his  note-book  ;  "  we  knew  him,  and  are  not  to  be  caught  with 
chaff.     Mr.  Pecksniff,  sir,  good  morning." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  returned  the  compliment ;  and  Mould,  sensible  of 
having  distinguished  himself,  was  going  away  with  a  brisk  smile,  when 
he  fortunately  remembered  the  occasion.  Quickly  becoming  depressed 
again,  he  sighed  ;  looked  into  the  crown  of  his  hat,  as  if  for  comfort  ; 
put  it  on  without  finding  any  ;  and  slowly  departed. 

Mrs.  Gamp  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  then  ascended  the  staircase  ;  and  the 
former,  having  been  shown  to  the  chamber  in  which  all  that  remained  of 
Anthony  Chuzzlewit  lay  covered  up,  with  but  one  loving  heart,  and  that 
a  halting  one,  to  mourn  it,  left  the  latter  free  to  enter  the  darkened 
room  below,  and  rejoin  Mr.  Jonas,  from  whom  he  had  now  been  absent- 
nearly  two  hours. 

He  found  that  example  to  bereaved  sons  and  pattern  in  the  eyes  of  all 
performers  of  funerals,  musing  over  a  fragment  of  writing-paper  on  the 
desk,  and  scratching  figures  on  it  with  a  pen.  The  old  man's  chair,  and 
hat,  and  walking-stick,  were  removed  from  their  accustomed  places,  and 
put  out  of  sight ;  the  window-blinds,  as  yellow  as  November  fogs,  were 
drawn  down  close  ;  Jonas  himself  was  so  subdued,  that  he  could  scarcely 
be  heard  to  speak,  and  only  seen  to  walk  across  the  room. 

"  Pecksniff,"  he  said,  in  a  whisper,  "  you  shall  have  the  regulation  of 
it  all,  mind.  You  shall  be  able  to  tell  anybody  who  talks  about  it  that 
everything  was  correctly  and  freely  done.  There  is  n't  any  one  you  'd 
like  to  ask  to  the  funeral,  is  there  1 " 

"  No,  Mr.  Jonas,  I  think  not." 

"  Because  if  there  is,  you  know,"  said  Jonas,  "  ask  him.  We  don't 
want  to  make  a  secret  of  it." 

"  No,"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  a  little  reflection.  "  I  am  not 
the  less  obliged  to  you  on  that  account,  Mr.  Jonas,  for  your  liberal  hos- 
pitiility  ;  but  there  really  is  no  one." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Jonas  ;  "  then  you,  and  I,  and  Chuffey,  and  the 
doctor,  will  be  just  a  coachful.     We  '11  have  the  doctor,  Pecksniff,  because 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  239 

he  knows  wliafc  was  tlie  matter  with  him,  and  that  it  couldn't  be 
helped." 

"  Where  is  our  dear  friend,  Mr.  GhufFey  ? "  asked  Pecksniff,  looking 
round  the  chamber,  and  winking  both  his  eyes  at  once — for  he  was  over- 
come by  his  feelings. 

But  here  he  was  interrupted  by  Mrs.  Gamp,  who,  divested  of  her  bonnet 
and  shawl,  came  sidling  and  bridling  into  the  room  ;  and,  with  some 
sharpness,  demanded  a  conference  outside  the  door  with  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  You  may  say  whatever  you  wish  to  say  here,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  that 
gentleman,  shaking  his  head  with  a  melancholy  expression. 

"  It  is  not  much  as  I  have  to  say,  when  people  is  a  mourning  for  the 
dead  and  gone,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  "  but  what  I  have  to  say  is  to  the 
pint  and  purpose,  and  no  offence  intended,  must  be  so  considered.  I 
have  been  at  a  many  places  in  my  time,  gentlemen,  and  I  hope  I  knows 
what  my  duties  is,  and  how  the  same  should  be  performed  :  in  course, 
if  I  did  not,  it  would  be  very  strange,  and  very  wrong  in  sich  a  gentle- 
man as  Mr.  Mould,  which  has  undertook  the  highest  families  in  this 
land,  and  given  every  satisfaction,  so  to  recommend  me  as  he  does.  I 
have  seen  a  deal  of  trouble  my  own  self,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  laying  greater 
and  greater  stress  upon  her  words,  "  and  I  can  feel  for  them  as  has 
their  feelings  tried  :  but  I  am  not  a  Rooshan  or  a  Prooshan,  and  conse- 
quently cannot  suffer  Spies  to  be  set  over  me." 

Before  it  was  possible  that  an  answer  could  be  returned,  Mrs.  Gamp, 
now  growing  redder  in  the  face,  went  on  to  say : 

"  It  is  not  a  easy  matter,  gentlemen,  to  live  when  you  are  left  a 
widder  woman  ;  particular  when  your  feelings  works  upon  you  to  that 
extent  that  you  often  find  yourself  a  going  out  on  terms  which  is  a 
certain  loss,  and  never  can  repay.  But,  in  whatever  way  you  earns  your 
bread,  you  may  have  rules  and  regulations  of  your  own,  which  cannot  be 
broke  through.  Some  people,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  again  entrenching  her- 
self behind  her  strong  point,  as  if  it  were  not  assailable  by  human 
ingenuity,  "  may  be  Rooshans,  and  some  may  be  Prooshans  ;  they  are 
born  so,  and  will  please  themselves.  Them  which  is  of  other  naturs 
thinks  different." 

"If  I  understand  this  good  lady,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  turning  to 
Jonas,  '-  Mr.  Chuffey  is  troublesome  to  her.      Shall  I  fetch  him  down  ?  " 

"  Do,"  said  Jonas.  "  I  was  going  to  tell  you  he  was  up  there,  when 
she  came  in.  I  'd  go  myself  and  bring  him  down,  only — only  I  'd 
rather  you  went,  if  you  don't  mind  it," 

Mr.  Pecksniff  promptly  departed,  followed  by  Mrs.  Gamp,  who,  seeing 
that  he  took  a  bottle  and  glass  from  the  cupboard,  and  carried  it  in 
his  hand,  was  much  softened. 

"  I  am  sure,"  she  said,  "  that  if  it  was  n't  for  his  own  happiness,  I 
should  no  more  mind  his  being  there,  poor  dear,  than  if  he  was  a  fly. 
But  them  as  is  n't  used  to  these  things,  thinks  so  much  of  'em  after- 
wards, that  it 's  a  kindness  to  'em  not  to  let  'em  have  their  wish.  And 
even,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  probably  in  reference  to  some  flowers  of  speech 
she  had  already  strewn  on  Mr.  Chuffey,  "  even  if  one  calls  'em  names, 
it 's  only  done  to  rouse  'em." 


24:0  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Whatever  epithets  she  had  bestowed  upon  the  old  clerk,  they  had  not 
roused  ki77i.  He  sat  beside  the  bed,  in  the  chair  he  had  occupied  all  the 
previous  night,  with  his  hands  folded  before  him,  and  his  head  bowed 
down  ;  and  neither  looked  up,  on  their  entrance,  nor  gave  any  sign  of 
consciousness,  until  Mr.  Pecksniff  took  him  by  the  arm,  when  he  meekly 
rose. 

"  Three  score  and  ten,"  said  Chuff ey,  "  ought  and  carry  seven.  Some 
men  are  so  strong  that  they  live  to  fourscore — four  times  ought's  an 
ought,  four  times  two's  eight— eighty.  Oh  !  why — why — why — didn't 
he  live  to  four  times  ought's  an  ought,  and  four  times  two's  eight — 
eighty  1  " 

"  Ah  !  what  a  wale  of  grief  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  possessing  herself  of 
the  bottle  and  glass. 

"  Why  did  he  die  before  liis  poor  old,  crazy  servant  !  "  said  ChufFey, 
clasping  his  hands  and  looking  up  in  anguish.  "  Take  him  from  me, 
and  what  remains  1 " 

"  Mr.  Jonas,"  returned  Pecksniff,  "  Mr.  Jonas,  my  good  friend." 

"  I  loved  him,"  cried  the  old  man,  weeping.  "  He  was  good  to  me. 
We  learnt  Tare  and  Tret  together,  at  school.  I  took  him  down  once,  six 
boys,  in  the  arithmetic  class.  God  forgive  me  1  Plad  I  the  heart  to 
take  him  down  !  " 

"  Come,  Mr.  Chuff  ey,"  said  Pecksniff,  "  come  with  me.  Summon  up 
your  fortitude,  Mr.  Chuffey." 

"  Yes,  I  will,"  returned  the  old  clerk.  "  Yes.  Ill  sum  up  my  forty — 
How  many  time's  forty — Oh,  Chuzzlewit  and  Son — Your  own  son, 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit  ;  your  own  son.  Sir  !  " 

He  yielded  to  the  hand  that  guided  him,  as  he  lapsed  into  this 
familiar  expression,  and  submitted  to  be  led  away.  Mrs.  Gamp,  with 
the  bottle  on  one  knee,  and  the  glass  in  the  other,  sat  upon  a  stool, 
shaking  her  head  for  a  long  time,  until,  in  a  moment  of  abstraction,  she 
poured  out  a  dram  of  spirits,  and  raised  it  to  her  lips.  It  was  suc- 
ceeded by  a  second,  and  by  a  third,  and  then  her  eyes — either  in  the  sadness 
of  her  reflections  upon  life  and  death,  or  in  her  admiration  of  the  liquor — 
were  so  turned  up  as  to  be  quite  invisible.     But  she  shook  her  head  still. 

Poor  Chuffey  was  conducted  to  his  accustomed  corner,  and  there  he 
remained,  silent  and  quiet,  save  at  long  intervals,  when  he  would  rise, 
and  walk  about  the  room,  and  wring  his  hands,  or  raise  some  strange 
and  sudden  cry.  For  a  whole  week  they  all  three  sat  about  the  hearth 
and  never  stirred  abroad.  Mr.  Pecksniff  would  have  walked  out  in  the 
evening  time,  but  Jonas  was  so  averse  to  his  being  absent  for  a 
minute,  that  he  abandoned  the  idea,  and  so,  from  morning  until  night, 
they  brooded  together  in  the  dark  room,  without  relief  or  occupation. 

The  weight  of  that  which  was  stretched  out  stiff  and  stark,  in  the 
awful  chamber  above  stairs,  so  crushed  and  bore  down  Jonas,  that 
he  bent  beneath  the  load.  During  the  whole  long  seven  days  and 
nights,  he  was  always  oppressed  and  haunted  by  a  dreadful  sense  of 
Its  presence  in  the  house.  Did  the  door  move,  he  looked  towards  it 
with  a  livid  face  and  starting  eye,  as  if  he  fully  believed  that  ghostly 
fingers  clutched   the  handle.      Did  the   fire  flicker  in  a  draught  ol 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  241 

air,  he  glanced  over  Kis  shoulder,  as  almost  dreading  to  behold  some 
shrouded  figure  fanning  and  flapping  at  it  with  its  fearful  dress.  The 
lightest  noise  disturbed  him  ;  and  once,  in  the  night,  at  the  sound  of  a 
footstep  over-head,  he  cried  out  that  the  dead  man  was  walking — tramp, 
tramp,  tramp — about  his  coffin. 

He  lay  at  night  upon  a  mattress  on  the  floor  of  the  sitting-room  ;  his 
own  chamber  having  been  assigned  to  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  and  Mr.  Pecksniff 
was  similarly  accommodated.  The  howling  of  a  dog  before  the  house, 
filled  him  with  a  terror  he  could  not  disguise.  He  avoided  the  reflec- 
tion in  the  opposite  window's  of  the  light  that  burned  above,  as  though 
it  had  been  an  angry  eye.  He  often,  in  every  night,  rose  up  from 
his  fitful  sleep,  and  looked  and  longed  for  dawn  ;  all  directions  and 
arrangements,  even  to  the  ordering  of  their  daily  meals,  he  abandoned  to 
Mr.  Pecksniff.  That  excellent  gentleman,  deeming  that  the  mourner 
wanted  comfort,  and  that  high-feeding  was  likely  to  do  him  infinite 
service,  availed  himself  of  these  opportunities  to  such  good  purpose  that 
they  kept  quite  a  dainty  table  during  this  melancholy  season  ;  with 
sweetbreads,  stewed  kidneys,  oysters,  and  other  such  light  viands  for 
supper  every  night ;  over  which,  and  sundry  jorums  of  hot  punch, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  delivered  such  moral  reflections  and  spiritual  consolation 
as  might  have  converted  a  Heathen — especially  if  he  had  had  but  an 
imperfect  acquaintance  with  the  English  tongue. 

Nor  did  Mr.  Pecksniff  alone  indulge  in  the  creature  comforts  during 
this  sad  time.  Mrs.  Gamp  proved  to  be  very  choice  in  her  eating,  and 
repudiated  hashed  mutton  with  scorn.  In  her  drinking  too,  she  was 
very  punctual  and  particular,  requiring  a  pint  of  mild  porter  at  lunch, 
a  pint  at  dinner,  half  a  pint  as  a  species  of  stay  or  holdfast  between  dinner 
and  tea,  and  a  pint  of  the  celebrated  staggering  ale,  or  Real  Old  Brighton 
Tipper,  at  supper ;  besides  the  bottle  on  the  chimney-piece,  and  such 
casual  invitations  to  refresh  herself  with  wine  as  the  good-breeding  of 
her  employers  might  prompt  them  to  offer.  In  like  manner,  Mr.  Mould's 
men  found  it  necessary  to  drown  their  gnef,  like  a  young  kitten  in  the 
morning  of  its  existence  ;  for  which  reason  they  generally  fuddled  them- 
selves before  they  began  to  do  anytliing,  lest  it  should  make  head  and 
get  the  better  of  them.  In  short,  the  whole  of  that  strange  week  was  a 
round  of  dismal  joviality  and  grim  enjoyment  ;  and  every  one,  except 
poor  Chuffey,  who  came  within  the  shadow  of  Anthony  Chuzzlcwit's 
grave,  feasted  like  a  Ghoule. 

At  length  the  day  of  the  funeral,  pious  and  truthful  ceremony  that 
it  was,  arrived.  Mr,  Mould,  with  a  glass  of  generous  port  between  his 
eye  and  the  light,  leaned  against  the  desk  in  the  little  glass  office  with 
his  gold  watch  in  his  unoccupied  hand,  and  conversed  with  Mrs.  Gamp  ; 
two  mutes  were  at  the  house-door,  looking  as  mournful  as  could  be  rea- 
sonably expected  of  men  with  such  a  thriving  job  in  hand  ;  the  whole  of 
Mr,  Mould's  establishment  were  on  duty  within  the  house  or  without;  fea- 
tliers  waved,  horses  snorted,  silks  and  velvets  fluttered  ;  in  a  word,  as  Mr. 
Mould  emphatically  said,  *■•  everything  that  money  could  do,  was  done.' 

"And  what  can  do  more,  Mrs.  Gamp?"  exclaimed  the  undertaker,  as 
he  emptied  his  glass,  and  smacked  his  lips. 

R 


242  LIFE    AXD    ADYENTUEES    OF 

''^  Kotliing  in  the  world,  sir." 

"  Nothing  in  the  world,"  repeated  Mr.  Mould.  "  You  are  right,  Mrs. 
Gamp.  Why  do  people  spend  more  money" — here  he  filled  his  glass 
again — "  upon  a  death,  Mrs.  Gamp,  than  upon  a  birth  1  Come,  that 's 
in  your  way  ;  you  ought  to  know.     Hoav  do  you  account  for  that  now  1 " 

"  Perhaps  it  is  because  an  undertaker's  charges  comes  dearer  than  a 
nurse's  charges,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  tittering,  and  smoothing  down  her 
new  black  dress  with  her  hands. 

"  Ha,  ha  !"  laughed  Mr.  Mould.  "  You  have  been  breakfasting  at 
somebody's  expense  this  morning,  Mrs.  Gamp."  But  seeing,  by  the 
aid  of  a  little  shaving-glass  which  hung  opposite,  that  he  looked  merry, 
he  composed  his  features  and  became  sorrowful. 

"  Many's  the  time  tliat  I  've  not  breakfasted  at  my  OAvn  expense 
along  of  your  kind  recommending,  sir  ;  and  many 's  the  time  I  hope  to 
do  the  same  in  time  to  come,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  an  apologetic  curtsey. 

"  So  be  it,"  replied  Mr.  Mould,  "  please  Providence.  No,  Mrs.  Gamp  ; 
I  '11  tell  you  why  it  is.  It 's  because  the  laying  out  of  money  with  a 
well-conducted  establishment,  where  the  thing  is  performed  upon  the 
very  best  scale,  binds  the  broken  heart,  and  sheds  balm  upon  the 
wounded  spirit.  Hearts  want  binding,  and  spirits  want  balming  when 
people  die  :  not  when  people  are  born.  Look  at  this  gentleman  to-day  ; 
look  at  him." 

"  An  open-handed  gentleman  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  enthusiasm. 

*'  No,  no,"  said  the  undertaker  ;  "  not  an  open-handed  gentleman  in 
■general,  by  any  means.  There  you  mistake  him  :  but  an  afHicted  gen- 
tleman, an  affectionate  gentleman,  who  knows  what  it  is  in  the  power 
of  money  to  do,  in  giving  him  relief,  and  in  testifying  his  love  and 
veneration  for  the  departed.  It  can  give  him,"  said  Mr.  Mould,  waving 
his  watch-chain  slowly  round  and  round,  so  that  he  described  one  circle 
after  every  item  ;  '•'  it  can  give  him  four  horses  to  each  vehicle  ;  it  can 
give  him  velvet  trappings  ;  it  can  give  him  drivers  in  cloth  cloaks  and 
top-boots;  it  can  give  him  the  plumage  of  the  ostrich,  dyed  black  j  it  can 
give  him  any  number  of  walking  attendants,  drest  in  the  first  style  of 
funeral  fashion,  and  carrying  batons  tipped  with  brass  ;  it  can  give  him 
a  handsome  tomb  ;  it  can  give  him  a  place  in  Westminster  Abbey  itself, 
if  he  choose  to  invest  it  in  such  a  purchase.  Oh  !  do  not  let  us  say  that 
.:gold  is  dross,  when  it  can  buy  such  things  as  these,  Mrs.  Gamp." 

"  But  what  a  blessing,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  that  there  are  such 
as  you,  to  sell  or  let  'em  out  on  hire  ! " 

"  Ay,  Mrs.  Gamp,  you  are  right,"  rejoined  the  undertaker.  "We 
should  be  an  honoured  calling.  We  do  good  by  stealth,  and  blush  to 
have  it  mentioned  in  our  little  bills.  How  much  consolation  may  I — 
€ven  I" — cried  Mr.  Mould,  "  have  diffused  among  my  fellow-creatures 
by  means  of  my  four  long-tailed  prancers,  never  harnessed  under  ten 
pund  ten  !" 

Mrs.  Gamp  had  begun  to  make  a  suitable  reply,  when  she  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  appearance  of  one  of  Mr.  Mould's  assis  tants — his  chief  mourner 
in  fact — an  obese  person,  with  his  waistcoat  in  closer  connection  with 
his  legs  than  is  quite  reooncileable  with  the  established  ideas  of  grace  ; 


MARTIN    CHFZZLEWIT.  243 

with  that  cast  of  feature  whicli  is  figuratively  called  a  bottle-nose  ;  and 
with  a  face  covered  all  over  v.'ith  pimples.  He  had  been  a  tender  plant 
once  upon  a  time,  but  from  constant  blowing  in  the  fat  atmosphere  of 
funerals,  had  run  to  seed. 

"  Well,  Tacker,"  said  Mr.  Mould,  "is  all  ready  below  ?" 

''  A  beautiful  show,  sir,"  rejoined  Tacker.  '•  The  horses  are  prouder 
and  fresher  than  ever  I  see  'em  ;  and  toss  their  heads,  they  do,  as  if 
they  knowed  how  much  their  plumes  cost.  One,  two,  three,  four,"  said 
Mr.  Tacker,  heaping  that  number  of  black  cloaks  upon  his  left  arm. 

"Is  Tom  there,  with  the  cake  and  wine  V  asked  Mr.  Mould. 

"  Ready  to  come  in  at  a  moment's  notice,  sir,"  said  Tacker. 

"  Then,"  rejoined  Mr.  ]\Iould,  putting  up  his  watch,  and  glancing  at 
liimself  in  the  little  shaving-glass,  that  he  might  be  sure  his  face  had 
the  right  expression  on  it :  "  then  I  think  we  may  proceed  to  business. 
Give  me  the  paper  of  gloves,  Tacker.  Ah  what  a  man  he  was  ! 
Ah  Tacker,  Tacker,  what  a  man  he  was  !" 

]\Ir.  Tacker,  who  from  his  great  experience  in  the  performance  of 
funerals,  would  have  made  an  excellent  pantomime  actor,  vrinked  at 
Mrs.  Gamp  without  at  all  disturbing  the  gravity  of  his  countenance, 
and  followed  his  master  into  the  next  room. 

It  was  a  great  point  with  Mr.  Mould,  and  a  part  of  his  professional 
tact,  not  to  seem  to  know  the  doctor — though  in  reality  they  were  near 
neighbours,  and  very  often,  as  in  the  present  instance,  worked  together. 
So  he  advanced  to  fit  on  his  black  kid  gloves  as  if  he  had  never  seen  him 
in  all  his  life ;  while  the  doctor,  on  his  part,  looked  as  distant  and 
unconscious  as  if  he  had  heard  and  read  of  undertakers,  and  had  passed 
their  shops,  but  had  never  before  been  brought  into  communication 
with  one. 

"  Gloves,  eh  f  said  the  doctor.     "  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  you." 

"  I  could  n't  think  of  it,"  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  said  the  doctor,  taking  a  pair.  "  "Well,  sir,  as 
I  was  saying — I  was  called  up  to  ^attend  that  case  at  about  half-past  one 
o'clock.     Cake  and  wine,  eh  ?  which  is  port  ?     Thank  you." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  tcok  some  also. 

"  At  about  half-past  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  sir,"  resumed  the 
doctor,  "  I  was  called  up  to  attend  that  case.  At  the  first  pull  of  the  night- 
bell  I  turned  out,  threw  up  the  window,  and  put  out  my  head.  Cloak, 
€h  1     Don't  tie  it  too  tight.     That  '11  do." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  having  been  likewise  inducted  into  a  similar  garment, 
the  doctor  resumed. 

"  And  put  out  my  head, — hat,  eh  1  My  good  friend,  that  is  not  mine. 
j\Ir.  Pecksniff,  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  think  we  have  unintentionally 
made  an  exchange.     Thank  you.     Well,  sir,  I  was  going  to  tell  you" — 

"  We  are  quite  ready,"  interrupted  Mould  in  a  low  voice. 

"Pi-eady,  eh  ?"  said  the  doctor.  "Very  good.  jMr.  Pecksniff,  I'll 
take  an  opportunity  of  relating  the  rest  in  the  coach.  It's  rather 
curious.     Ready,  eh  1     No  rain,  I  hope?" 

"  Quite  fair,  sir,"  returned  Mould. 

"  I  was  afraid  the  ground  would  have  been  wet,"  said  the  doctor,  "  for 


244  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

my  glass  fell  yesterday.  We  may  congratulate  ourselves  upon  our  good 
fortune."  But  seeing  by  this  time  that  Mr.  Jonas  and  Chuffey  were 
going  out  at  the  door,  he  put  a  white  pocket-handkerchief  to  his  face  as 
if  a  violent  burst  of  grief  had  suddenly  come  upon  him,  and  walked 
down  side  by  side  with  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

Mr.  Mould  and  his  men  had  not  exaggerated  the  grandeur  of  the 
arrangements.  They  were  splendid.  The  four  hearse-horses  especially, 
reared  and  pranced,  and  showed  their  highest  action,  as  if  they  knew  a 
man  was  dead,  and  triumphed  in  it.  "  They  break  us,  drive  us,  ride  us ; 
ill  treat,  abuse,  and  maim  us  for  their  pleasure — But  they  die  ;  Hurrah, 
they  die  ! " 

So  through  the  narrow  streets  and  winding  city  ways,  went  Anthony 
Chuzzlewit's  funeral :  Mr.  Jonas  glancing  stealthily  out  of  the  coach- 
window  now  and  then,  to  observe  its  effect  upon  the  crowd  ;  Mr.  Mould 
as  he  walked  along,  listening  with  a  sober  pride  to  the  exclamations  of 
the  bystanders  ;  the  doctor  whispering  his  story  to  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with- 
out appearing  to  come  any  nearer  the  end  of  it ;  and  poor  old  Chuffey 
sobbing  unregarded  in  a  corner.  But  he  had  greatly  scandalised  Mr. 
Mould  at  an  early  stage  of  the  ceremony  by  carrying  his  handkerchief  in 
his  hat  in  a  perfectly  informal  manner,  and  wiping  his  eyes  with  his 
knuckles.  And  as  Mr.  Mould  himself  had  said  already,  his  behaviour 
was  indecent,  and  quite  unworthy  of  such  an  occasion ;  and  he  never 
ought  to  have  been  there. 

There  he  was,  however  ;  and  in  the  churchyard  there  he  was,  also, 
conducting  himself  in  a  no  less  unbecoming  manner,  and  leaning  for 
support  on  Tacker,  who  plainly  told  him  that  he  was  fit  for  nothing 
better  than  a  walking  funeral.  But  Chuffey,  Heaven  help  him  !  heard 
no  sound  but  the  echoes,  lingering  in  his  own  heart,  of  a  voice  for  ever 
silent. 

"  I  loved  him,"  cried  the  old  man,  sinking  down  upon  the  grave  when 
all  was  done.  "  He  was  very  good  to  me.  Oh,  my  dear  old  friend  and 
master  ! " 

"  Come,  come,  Mr.  Chuffey,"  said  the  doctor,  "  this  won't  do  ;  it 's  a 
clayey  soil,  Mr.  Chuffey.     You  must  n't,  really." 

"  If  it  had  been  the  commonest  thing  we  do,  and  Mr.  Chuffey  had  been 
a  Bearer,  gentlemen,"  said  Mould,  casting  an  imploring  glance  upon  them, 
as  he  helped  to  raise  him,  "  he  could  n't  have  gone  on  worse  than  this." 

"  Be  a  man,  Mr.  Chuffey,"  said  Pecksniff. 

"  Be  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Chuffey,"  said  Mould. 

"  Upon  my  word,  my  good  friend,"  murmured  the  doctor,  in  a  tone  of 
stately  reproof,  as  he  stepped  up  to  the  old  man's  side,  "this  is 
worse  than  weakness.  This  is  bad,  selfish,  very  wrong,  Mr.  Chuffey. 
You  should  take  example  from  others,  my  good  sir.  You  forget  that 
you  were  not  connected  by  ties  of  blood  with  our  deceased  friend  ;  and 
that  he  had  a  very  near  and  very  dear  relation,  Mr.  Chuffey." 

"  Ay,  his  own  son  !"  cried  the  old  man,  clasping  his  hands  with 
remarkable  passion.     "  His  own,  own,  only  son  !  " 

"He's  not  right  in  jiis  head,  you  know,"  said  Jonas,  turning  pale. 
"You're   not  to  mind    anything   he   says.       I  shouldn't   wonder  if 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  245 

he  was  to  talk  some  precious  nonsense.  But  don't  you  mind  hira,  any 
of  you.  I  don't.  My  father  left  him  to  my  charge  ;  and  whatever  he 
says  or  does,  that 's  enough.     /  '11  take  care  of  him." 

A  hum  of  admiration  rose  from  the  mourners  (including  Mr.  Mould 
and  his  merry  men)  at  this  new  instance  of  magnanimity  and  kind-feeling 
on  the  part  of  Jonas.  But  ChufFey  put  it  to  the  test  no  farther.  He 
said  not  a  word  more,  and  being  left  to  himself  for  a  little  while,  crept 
back  again  to  the  coach. 

It  has  been  said  that  Mr.  Jonas  turned  pale  when  the  behaviour  of 
the  old  clerk  attracted  general  attention  ;  his  discomposure,  however, 
was  but  momentary,  and  he  soon  recovered.  But  these  were  not  the 
only  changes  he  had  exhibited  that  day.  The  curious  eyes  of  Mr. 
Pecksniff  had  observ^ed  that  as  soon  as  they  left  the  house  upon  their 
mournful  errand,  he  began  to  mend  ;  that  as  the  ceremonies  proceeded 
he  gradually,  by  little  and  little,  recovered  his  old  condition,  his  old 
looks,  his  old  bearing,  his  old  agreeable  characteristics  of  speech  and 
manner,  and  became,  in  all  respects,  his  old  pleasant  self  And  Jiovr 
that  they  were  seated  in  the  coach  on  their  return  home  ;  and  more 
when  they  got  there,  and  found  the  windows  open,  the  light  and  air 
admitted,  and  all  traces  of  the  late  event  removed  ;  he  felt  so  well 
convinced  that  Jonas  was  again  the  Jonas  he  had  known  a  week  ago, 
and  not  the  Jonas  of  the  intervening  time,  that  he  voluntarily  gave  up 
his  recently-acquired  power  without  one  faint  attempt  to  exercise  it, 
and  at  once  fell  back  into  his  former  position  of  mild  and  deferential 
guest. 

Mrs.  Gamp  went  home  to  the  bird-fancier's,  and  was  knocked  up 
again  that  very  night  for  a  birth  of  twins  ;  Mr.  Mould  dined  gaily  in 
the  bosom  of  his  family,  and  passed  the  evening  facetiously  at  his  club  ; 
the  hearse,  after  standing  for  a  long  time  at  the  door  of  a  roystering 
public-house,  repaired  to  its  stables  with  the  feathers  inside  and  twelve 
red-nosed  undertakers  on  the  roof,  each  holding  on  by  a  dingy  peg,  to 
which,  in  times  of  state,  a  waving  plume  was  fitted  ;  the  various  trappings 
of  sorrow  were  carefully  laid  by  in  presses  for  the  next  hirer  ;  the  fiery 
steeds  were  quenched  and  quiet  in  their  stalls  ;  the  doctor  got  merry 
with  wine  at  a  wedding-dinner,  and  forgot  the  middle  of  the  story  which 
had  no  end  to  it ;  the  pageant  of  a  few  short  hours  ago  was  written 
nowhere  half  so  legibly  as  in  the  undertaker's  books. 

Not  in  the  churcliyard?  Not  even  there.  The  gates  were  closed  ;  the 
night  was  dark  and  wet ;  and  the  rain  fell  silently,  among  the  stagnant 
weeds  and  nettles.  One  new  mound  was  there  which  had  not  been  last 
night.  Time,  burrowing  like  a  mole  below  the  ground,  had  marked  his 
track  by  throwing  up  another  heap  of  earth.    And  that  was  all. 


246  LIFE   AND    ADYENTURES    OF 

CHAPTER  XX. 

IS     A     CHAPTER      OF     LOVE.  ' 

"  Pecksniff,"  said  Jonas,  taking  off  his  liat,  to  see  that  the  black  crape 
band  was  all  right ;  and  finding  that  it  was,  putting  it  on  again,  compla- 
cently j  "  what  do  you  mean  to  give  your  daughters  when  they  marry  % " 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Jonas,"  cried  the  affectionate  parent,  with  an  ingenuous 
smile,  "  what  a  very  singular  inquiry  !  " 

"  Xow,  don't  you  mind  whether  it 's  a  singular  inquiry  or  a  plural 
one,"  retorted  Jonas,  eyeing  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  no  great  favour,  "  but 
answer  it,  or  let  it  alone.     One  or  the  other." 

"  Hum  !  The  question,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  laying  his 
hand  tenderly  upon  his  kinsman's  knee,  "  is  involved  with  many  con- 
siderations.    What  would  I  give  them  1     Eh  ? " 

"  Ah  !  what  would  you  give  'em  1 "  repeated  Jonas. 

"  Why,  that,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  would  naturally  depend  in  a  great 
measure  upon  the  kind  of  husbands  they  might  choose,  my  dear  young 
friend." 

Mr.  Jonas  was  evidently  disconcerted,  and  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed. 
It  was  a  good  answer.  It  seemed  a  deep  one,  but  such  is  the  wisdom  of 
simplicity  ! 

"  My  standard  for  the  merits  I  would  require  in  a  son-in-law,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  a  short  silence,  "  is  a  high  one.  Forgive  me,  my  dear 
Mr.  Jonas,"  he  added,  greatly  moved,  "  if  I  say  that  you  have  spoiled 
me,  and  made  it  a  fanciful  one  ;  an  imaginative  one ;  a  prismaticaily 
tinged  one,  if  I  may  be  permitted  to  call  it  so." 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  V  growled  Jonas,  looking  at  him  with 
increased  disfavour. 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  you  may  well  inquire. 
The  heart  is  not  always  a  royal  mint,  with  patent  machinery,  to  work 
its  metal  into  current  coin.  Sometimes  it  throws  it  out  in  strange 
forms,  not  easily  recognised  as  coin  at  all.  But  it  is  sterling  gold.  It 
has  at  least  that  merit.     It  is  sterling  gold." 

"  Is  it  V  grumbled  Jonas,  with  a  doubtful  shake  of  the  head. 

"  Ay  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  warming  with  his  subject,  "  it  is.  To  be 
plain  with  you,  Mr.  Jonas,  if  I  could  find  two  such  sons-in-law  as  you 
will  one  day  make  to  some  deserving  man,  capable  of  appreciating  a 
nature  such  as  yours,  I  would — forgetful  of  myself — bestow  upon  my 
daughters,  portions  reaching  to  the  very  utmost  limit  of  my  means." 

This  was  strong  language,  and  it  was  earnestly  delivered.  But  who 
can  wonder  that  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  all  he  had  seen  and 
heard  of  Mr.  Jonas,  should  be  strong  and  earnest  upon  such  a  theme  ; 
a  theme  that  touched  even  the  worldly  lips  of  undertakers  with  the 
honey  of  eloquence  ! 

Mr.  Jonas  was  silent,  and  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  landscape.  For 
they  were  seated  on  the  outside  of  the  coach,  at  the  back,  and  were 


MARTIN    CllUZZLEWIT.  247 

travelling  clown  into  the  country.  He  accompanied  Mr,  Pecksnifi  home 
for  a  few  days'  change  of  air  and  scene  after  his  recent  trials. 

"  Well/'  he  said,  at  last^  with  captivating  bluntness^  "  suppose  you 
got  one  such  son-in-law  as  me,  what  then  ?" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  regarded  him  at  first  with  inexpressible  surprise  ;  then 
gradually  breaking  into  a  sort  of  dejected  vivacity,  said  : 

"  Then  well  I  know  whose  husband  he  would  be  !" 

"  Whose  ?"  asked  Jonas,  drily. 

"  My  eldest  girl's,  Mr.  Jonas,"  replied  Pecksniff,  with  moistening 
eyes.  "  My  dear  Cherry's  :  my  staff,  my  scrip,  my  treasure,  Mr,  Jonas. 
A  hard  struggle,  but  it  is  in  the  nature  of  things  !  I  must  one  day 
part  with  her  to  a  husband.  I  know  it,  my  dear  friend.  I  am  pre- 
pared for  it." 

"  Ecod  !  you've  been  prepared  for  that,  a  pretty  long  time,  I  should 
think,"  said  Jonas. 

Many  have  sought  to  bear  her  from  me,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  All 
have  failed.  'I  never  will  give  my  hand,  papa,'  —  those  were  her 
words,  '  unless  my  heart  is  won.'  She  has  not  been  quite  so  happy  as 
she  used  to  be,  of  late.    I  don't  know  why." 

Again  Mr,  Jonas  looked  at  the  landscape  ;  then  at  the  coachman  ; 
then  at  the  luggage  on  the  roof ;  finally,  at  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  I  suppose  you  '11  have  to  part  with  the  other  one,  some  of  these 
days  ^  "  he  observed,  as  he  caught  that  gentleman's  eye. 

"  Probably,"  said  the  parent.  "  Years  will  tame  down  the  wildness 
of  my  foolish  bird,  and  then  it  will  be  caged.  But  Cherry,  Mr.  Jonas, 
Cherry—" 

"  Oh,  ah  !  "  interrupted  Jonas.  "  Years  have  made  her  all  right 
enough.  Nobody  doubts  that.  But  you  haven't  answered  what  I  asked 
you.  Of  course,  you  're  not  obliged  to  do  it,  you  know,  if  you  don't  like. 
You  're  the  best  judge." 

There  was  a  warning  sulkiness  in  the  manner  of  this  speech,  which 
admonished  Mr.  Pecksniff  that  his  dear  friend  was  not  to  be  trifled  with 
or  fenced  off,  and  that  he  must  either  return  a  straight-forward  reply  to 
his  question,  or  plainly  give  him  to  understand  that  he  declined  to 
enlighten  him  upon  the  subject  to  which  it  referred.  Mindful  in  this 
dilemma  of  the  caution  old  Anthony  had  given  him  almost  wdth  his 
latest  breath,  he  resolved  to  speak  to  the  point,  and  so  told  Mr.  Jonas — 
enlarging  upon  the  communication  as  a  proof  of  his  great  attachment 
and  confidence — that  in  the  case  he  had  put,  to  wit,  in  the  event  of 
such  a  man  as  he  proposing  for  his  daughter's  hand,  he  would  endovv' 
her  with  a  fortune  of  four  thousand  pounds. 

"  I  should  sadly  pinch  and  cramp  myself  to  do  so,"  was  his  fathei'ly 
remark  ;  "  but  that  would  be  my  duty,  and  my  conscience  would  reward 
me.  For  myself,  my  conscience  is  my  bank.  I  have  a  trifle  invested 
there — a  mere  trifle,  Mr.  Jonas — but  I  prize  it  as  a  store  of  value,  I 
assure  you." 

The  good  man's  enemies  would  have  divided  upon  this  question  into 
two  parties.  One  would  have  asserted  without  scruple  that  if  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's  conscience  were  his  bank,  and  he  kept  a  running  account  there,  he 


248  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

must  have  overdrawn  it  beyond  all  mortal  means  of  computation.  The 
other  would  have  contended  that  it  was  a  mere  fictitious  form  ;  a  per- 
fectly blank  book ;  or  one  in  which  entries  were  only  made  with  a  peculiar 
kind  of  invisible  ink  to  become  legible  at  some  indefinite  time  ;  and  that 
he  never  troubled  it  at  all. 

"  It  would  sadly  pinch  and  cramp  me,  my  dear  friend,"  repeated 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  but  Providence — perhaps  I  may  be  permitted  to  say  a 
special  Providence — has  blessed  my  endeavours,  and  I  could  guarantee 
to  make  the  sacrifice." 

A  question  of  philosophy  arises  here,  whether  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  or  had 
not  good  reason  to  say,  that  he  was  specially  patronised  and  encouraged  in 
his  undertakings.  All  his  life  long  he  had  been  walking  up  and  down  the 
narrow  ways  and  bye-places,  with  a  hook  in  one  hand  and  a  crook  in  the 
other,  scraping  all  sorts  of  valuable  odds  and  ends  into  his  pouch.  Now, 
there  being  a  special  Providence  in  the  fall  of  a  sparrow,  it  follows  (so 
Mr.  Pecksniff  might  have  reasoned,  perhaps),  that  there  must  also  be 
a  special  Providence  in  the  alighting  of  the  stone,  or  stick,  or  other 
substance  which  is  aimed  at  the  sparrow.  And  Mr.  Pecksniff's  hook,  or 
crook,  having  invariably  knocked  the  sparrow  on  the  head  and  brought 
him  down,  that  gentleman  may  have  been  led  to  consider  himself  as 
specially  licensed  to  bag  sparrows,  and  as  being  specially  seised  and 
possessed  of  all  the  birds  he  had  got  together.  That  many  undertakings, 
national  as  well  as  individual — but  especially  the  former — are  held  to 
be  specially  brought  to  a  glorious  and  successful  issue,  which  never  could 
be  so  regarded  on  any  other  process  of  reasoning,  must  be  clear  to  all 
men.  Therefore  the  precedents  would  seem  to  show  that  Mr.  Pecksniff 
had  good  argument  for  what  he  said,  and  might  be  permitted  to  say  it, 
and  did  not  say  it  presumptuously,  vainly,  or  arrogantly,  but  in  a  spirit 
of  high  faith  and  great  wisdom  meriting  all  praise. 

Mr.  Jonas,  not  being  much  accustomed  to  perplex  his  mind  with 
theories  of  this  nature,  expressed  no  opinion  on  the  subject.  Nor  did 
he  receive  his  companion's  announcement  with  one  solitary  syllable, 
good,  bad,  or  indifferent.  He  preserved  this  taciturnity  for  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  at  least,  and  during  the  whole  of  that  time  appeared  to  be 
steadily  engaged  in  subjecting  some  given  amount  to  the  operation  of 
every  known  rule  in  figures  ;  adding  to  it,  taking  from  it,  multiplying 
it,  reducing  it  by  long  and  short  division  ;  working  it  by  the  rule  of 
three  direct  and  inversed;  exchange  or  barter;  practice;  simple  interest; 
compound  interest ;  and  other  means  of  arithmetical  calculation.  The 
result  of  these  labours  appeared  to  be  satisfactory,  for  when  he  did  break 
silence,  it  was  as  one  who  had  arrived  at  some  specific  result,  and  freed 
himself  from  a  state  of  distressing  uncertainty. 

"Come,  old  Pecksniff  1" — such  was  his  jocose  address,  as  he  slapped 
that  gentleman  on  the  back,  at  the  end  of  the  stage — "  let 's  have  some- 
thing !" 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Let 's  treat  the  driver,"  cried  Jonas. 

"  If  you  think  it  won't  hurt  the  man,  or  render  him  discontented  with 
his  station — certainly,"  faultered  Mr.  Pecksniff. 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWlT.  2-19 

Jonas  only  lauglied  at  tliis,  and  getting-  down  from  tlie  coacli-top  with 
great  alacrity,  cut  a  cumbersome  kind  of  caper  in  the  road.  After  which, 
he  went  into  the  public-house,  and  there  ordered  spirituous  drink  to 
such  an  extent  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  some  doubts  of  his  perfect  sanity, 
until  Jonas  set  them  quite  at  rest  by  saying,  when  the  coach  could  wait 
no  longer  : 

"I've  been  standing  treat  for  a  whole  week  and  more,  and  letting  you 
have  all  the  delicacies  of  the  season.  Yo?i  sliall  pay  for  this,  Pecksniff." 
It  was  not  a  joke  either,  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  at  first  supposed  ;  for  he  went 
off  to  the  coach  without  further  ceremony,  and  left  his  respected  victim 
to  settle  the  bill. 

But  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  a  man  of  meek  endurance,  and  Mr.  Jonas  was 
his  friend.  Moreover,  his  regard  for  that  gentleman  was  founded,  as  we 
know,  on  pure  esteem,  and  a  knoAvledge  of  the  excellence  of  his  character. 
He  came  out  from  the  tavern  with  a  smiling  face,  and  even  went  so  far 
as  to  repeat  the  performance,  on  a  less  expensive  scale,  at  the  next  ale- 
house. There  was  a  certain  wildness  in  the  spirits  of  Mr.  Jonas  (not 
usually  a  part  of  his  character)  which  was  far  from  being  subdued  by 
these  means,  and,  for  the  rest  of  the  journey,  he  was  so  very  buoyant — it 
may  be  said,  boisterous — that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  some  difficulty  in 
keeping  pace  with  him. 

They  were  not  expected — oh  dear,  no  !  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  proposed 
in  London  to  give  the  girls  a  surprise,  and  had  said  he  wouldn't  write  a 
word  to  prepare  them  on  any  account,  in  order  that  he  and  Mr.  Jonas 
might  take  them  unawares,  and  just  see  what  they  were  doing,  when 
they  thought  their  dear  papa  was  miles  and  miles  away.  As  a  con- 
sequence of  this  playful  device,  there  was  nobody  to  meet  them  at  the 
finger-post,  but  that  was  of  small  consequence,  for  they  had  come  down  by 
the  day  coach,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  only  a  carpet-bag,  while  Mr.  Jona^ 
had  only  a  portmanteau.  They  took  the  portmanteau  between  them, 
put  the  bag  upon  it,  and  walked  off  up  the  lane  without  delay  :  Mr. 
Pecksniff  already  going  on  tiptoe,  as  if,  without  this  precaution,  his  fond 
children,  being  then  at  the  distance  of  a  couple  of  miles  or  so,  would 
have  some  filial  sense  of  his  approach. 

It  was  a  lovely  evening,  in  the  spring-time  of  the  year ;  and  in  the 
soft  stillness  of  the  twilight,  all  nature  was  very  calm  and  beautiful. 
The  day  had  been  fine  and  Avarm  ;  but  at  the  coming  on  of  night,  the 
air  grew  cool,  and  in  the  mellowing  distance,  smoke  was  rising  gently 
from  the  cottage  chimneys.  There  were  a  thousand  pleasant  scents  dif- 
fused around,  from  young  leaves  and  fresh  buds ;  the  cuckoo  had  been 
singing  all  day  long,  and  was  but  just  now  hushed  ;  tlie  smell  of  earth, 
newly-upturned — first  breath  of  hope  to  the  first  labourer,  after  his 
garden  withered — was  fragrant  in  the  evening  breeze.  It  was  a  time 
when  most  men  cherish  good  resolves,  and  sorrow  for  the  wasted  past  : 
when  most  men,  looking  on  the  shadows  as  they  gather,  think  of  that 
-evening  which  must  close  on  all,  and  that  to-morrow  which  has  none 
beyond. 

"  Precious  dull,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  looking  about.  '•  It's  enough  to  make 
a  man  go  melancholy  mad." 


250  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  We  shall  have  lights  and  a  fire  soon,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  We  shall  need  'em  bj  the  time  we  get  there,"  said  Jonas.  "  Why 
the  devil  don't  you  talk  ?•      What  are  you  thinking  of?" 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Jonas,"  said  Pecksniff  with  great  solemnity, 
"  my  mind  was  running  at  that  moment  on  our  late  dear  friend,  your 
departed  father." 

Mr.  Jonas  immediately  let  his  burden  fall,  and  said,  threatening  him 
with  his  hand  : 

"Drop  that,  Pecksniff!" 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  not  exactly  knowing  whether  allusion  was  made  to  the 
subject  or  the  portmanteau,  stared  at  his  friend  in  unaffected  surprise. 

"Drop  it,  I  say  !  "  cried  Jonas,  fiercely.  "  Do  you  ]iear  ?  Drop  it 
— now  and  for  ever.     You  had  better,  I  give  you  notice  ! " 

"  It  was  quite  a  mistake,"  urged  Mr.  Pecksniff,  very  much  dismayed  ; 
"  though  I  admit  it  was  foolish.  I  might  have  known  it  was  a  tender 
string." 

"Don't  talk  to  me  about  tender  strings,"  said  Jonas,  wiping  his 
forehead  with  the  cuff  of  his  coat.  "  I  'm  not  going  to  be  crowed  over 
by  you,  because  I  don't  like  dead  company." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  got  out  the  words  "  Crowed  over,  Mr.  Jonas  !  " 
when  that  young  man,  with  a  dark  expression  in  his  countenance,  cut 
him  short  once  more  : 

"  Mind  !  "  he  said,  "  I  won't  have  it.  I  advise  you  not  to  revive 
the  subject,  neither  to  me  nor  anybody  else.  You  can  take  a  hint,  it 
you  choose,  as  well  as  another  man.  There  's  enough  said  about  it. 
Come  along  !  " 

Taking  up  his  part  of  the  load  again,  when  he  had  said  these  words, 
he  hurried  on  so  fast  that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  at  the  other  end  of  the  port- 
manteau, found  himself  dragged  forward  in  a  very  inconvenient  and 
ungraceful  manner,  to  the  great  detriment  of  what  is  called  by  fancy 
gentlemen  "  the  bark  "  upon  his  shins,  which  were  most  unmercifully 
bumped  against  the  hard  leather  and  the  iron  buckles.  In  the  course 
of  a  few  minutes,  however,  Mr.  Jonas  relaxed  his  speed,  and  suffered 
his  companion  to  come  up  with  him,  and  to  bring  the  portmanteau  into 
a  tolerably  straight  position. 

It  was  pretty  clear  that  he  regretted  his  late  outbreak,  and  that  he 
mistrusted  its  effect  on  Mr.  Pecksniff;  for  as  often  as  that  gentleman 
glanced  towards  Mr.  Jonas,  he  found  Mr.  Jonas  glancing  at  him,  which 
was  a  new  source  of  embarrassment.  It  was  but  a  short-lived  one 
though,  for  Mr.  Jonas  soon  began  to  whistle,  whereupon  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
taking  his  cue  from  his  friend,  began  to  hum  a  tune  melodiously, 

"  Pretty  nearly  there,  ain't  we  % "  said  Jonas,  when  this  had  lasted 
some  time. 

"  Close,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  What  '11  they  be  doing,  do  you  suppose  ?"  asked  Jonas. 

"  Impossible  to  say,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Giddy  truants  !  They 
may  be  away  from  home,  perhaps.  I  was  going  to — he  !  he  !  he  ! — I 
was  going  to  propose,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  that  we  should  enter  by 
the  back  way,  and  come  upon  them  like  a  clap  of  thunder,  Mr.  Jonas." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  251 

It  might  not  have  been  easy  to  decide  in  respect  of  which  of  their 
manifold  properties,  Jonas,  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  carpet-bag,  and  the  port- 
manteau, could  be  likened  to  a  clap  of  thunder.  But  Mr.  Jonas  giving 
his  assent  to  this  proposal,  they  stole  round  into  the  back  yard,  and 
softly  advanced  towards  the  kitchen  window,  through  which  the  mingled 
light  of  fire  and  candle  shone  upon  the  darkening  night. 

Truly  Mr.  Pecksniff  is  blessed  in  his  children — in  one  of  them,  at 
any  rate.  The  prudent  Cherry — staff,  and  scrip,  and  treasure  of  her 
doting  father — there  she  sits,  at  a  little  table  white  as  driven  snow, 
before  the  kitchen  fire,  making  up  accounts  !  See  the  neat  maiden,  as 
with  pen  in  hand,  and  calculating  look  addressed  towards  the  ceiling, 
and  bunch  of  keys  within  a  little  basket  at  her  side,  she  checks  the 
housekeeping  expenditure  !  From  flat-iron,  dish-cover,  and  warming- 
pan  ;  from  pot  and  kettle,  face  of  brass  footman,  and  black-leaded 
stove ;  bright  glances  of  approbation  wink  and  glow  upon  her.  The 
very  onions  dangling  from  the  beam  mantle  and  shine  like  cherubs' 
cheeks.  Something  of  the  influence  of  those  vegetables  sinks  into  Mr. 
Pecksniff's  nature.     He  weeps. 

It  is  but  for  a  moment,  and  he  hides  it  from  the  obsei-vation  of  his 
friend — very  carefully — by  a  somewhat  elaborate  use  of  his  pocket 
handkerchief,  in  fact  :  for  he  would  not  have  his  weakness  known. 

"  Pleasant,"  he  murmured — "  pleasant  to  a  father's  feelings  !  My 
dear  girl  !     Shall  we  let  her  know  we  are  here,  Mr.  Jonas  ?" 

"  Why,  I  suppose  you  don't  mean  to  spend  the  evening  in  the  stable 
or  the  coach-house,"  he  returned. 

"  That,  indeed,  is  not  such  hospitality  as  I  would  show  to  you,  my 
friend,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pressing  his  hand.  And  then  he  took  a 
long  breath,  and  tapping  at  the  window,  shouted  with  stentorian 
blandness  : 

"Boh!" 

Cherry  dropped  her  pen  and  screamed.  But  innocence  is  ever  bold 
— or  should  be.  As  they  opened  the  door,  the  valiant  girl  exclaimed 
in  a  firm  voice,  and  with  a  presence  of  mind  which  even  in  that  trying 
moment  did  not  desert  her,  "  Who  are  you  %  What  do  you  w^ant  % 
Speak  !  or  I  will  call  my  Pa," 

Mr.  Pecksniff  held  out  his  arms.  She  knew  him  instantly,  and 
rushed  into  his  fond  embrace. 

"  It  was  thoughtless  of  us,  Mr.  Jonas,  it  was  very  thoughtless,"  said 
Pecksniff,  smoothing  his  daughter's  hair.  "  My  darling,  do  you  see  that 
I  am  not  alone  ! " 

Not  she.  She  had  seen  nothing  but  her  father  until  now.  She  saw 
Mr.  Jonas  now,  though  j  and  blushed,  and  hung  her  head  down,  as  she 
gave  him  welcome. 

But  where  was  Merry  %  Mr.  Pecksniff  didn't  ask  the  question  in 
reproach,  but  in  a  vein  of  mildness  touched  with  a  gentle  sorrow.  She 
w^as  upstairs,  reading  on  the  parlour  couch.  Ah  !  Domestic  details 
had  no  charm  for  her.  "  But  call  her  down,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a 
placid  resignation.     "  Call  her  down,  my  love." 

She  was  called  and  came,  all  flushed  and  tumbled  from  reposing  on 


252  LIFE    AND    ADYSNTUHES    OF 

the  sofa  ;  but  none  the  worse  for  that.  IN  o,  not  at  all.  Eather  the 
better,  if  anything. 

"  Oh  my  goodness  me  !"  cried  the  arch  girl,  turning  to  her  cousin 
when  she  had  kissed  her  father  on  both  cheeks,  and  in  her  frolicsome 
nature  had  bestowed  a  supernumerary  salute  upon  the  tip  of  his  nose, 
^^ you  here,  fright  !  Well,  I'm  very  thankful  that  you  won't  trouble 
7ne  much  !" 

"What!  you're  as  lively  as  ever,  are  you  ]"  said  Jonas.  "Oh! 
You  're  a  wicked  one  !" 

"  There,  go  along  !"  retorted  Merry,  pushing  him  away.  "I'm  sure 
I  don't  know  what  I  shall  ever  do,  if  I  have  to  see  much  of  you.  Go 
along,  for  gracious'  sake  1" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  striking  in  here,  with  a  request  that  Mr.  Jonas  would  im- 
mediately walk  up  stairs,  he  so  far  complied  with  the  young  lady's  adjura- 
tion as  to  go  at  once.  But  though  he  had  the  fair  Cherry  on  his  arm, 
he  could  not  help  looking  back  at  her  sister,  and  exchanging  some  further 
dialogue  of  the  same  bantering  description,  as  they  all  four  ascended  to 
the  parlour ;  where — for  the  young  ladies  happened,  by  good  fortune, 
to  be  a  little  later  than  usual  that  night — the  tea-board  was  at  that 
moment  being  set  out. 

Mr.  Pinch  was  not  at  home,  so  they  had  it  all  to  themselves,  and 
were  very  snug  and  talkative,  Jonas  sitting  between  the  two  sisters, 
and  displaying  his  gallantry  in  that  engaging  manner  which  was  peculiar 
to  him.  It  was  a  hard  thing,  Mr.  Pecksniff  said,  when  tea  was  done 
and  cleared  away,  to  leave  so  pleasant  a  little  party,  but  having  some  im- 
portant papers  to  examine  in  his  own  apartment,  he  must  beg  them  to 
excuse  him  for  half  an  hour.  With  this  apology  he  withdrew,  singing 
a  careless  strain  as  he  went.  lie  had  not  been  gone  five  minutes,  when 
Merry,  who  had  been  sitting  in  the  window,  apart  from  Jonas  and  her 
sister,  burst  into  a  half-smothered  laugh,  and  skipped  towards  the  door. 

"  Hallo  1"  cried  Jonas.     "  Don't  go." 

"  Oh,  I  dare  say  1"  rejoined  Merry,  looking  back.  "You're  very- 
anxious  I  should  stay,  fright,  ain't  you  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  said  Jonas.  "  Upon  my  word  I  am.  I  want  to  speak 
to  you."  But  as  she  left  the  room  notwithstanding,  he  ran  out  after  her, 
and  brought  her  back,  after  a  short  struggle  in  the  passage  which 
scandalized  Miss  Cherry  very  much, 

"  Upon  my  word.  Merry,"  urged  that  young  lady,  "  I  wonder  at 
you  !     There  are  bounds  even  to  absurdity,  my  dear." 

"  Thank  you  my  sweet,"  said  Merry,  pursing  up  her  rosy  lips. 
"Much  obliged  to  it  for  its  advice.  Oh!  do  leave  me  alone,  you 
monster,  do  !"  This  entreaty  was  wrung  from  her  by  a  new  proceeding 
on  the  part  of  Mr.  Jonas,  who  pulled  her  down,  all  breathless  as  she  was, 
into  a  seat  beside  him  on  the  sofa,  having  at  the  same  time  Miss 
Cherry  upon  the  other  side. 

"  Now,"  said  Jonas,  clasping  the  waist  of  each  :  "  I  have  got  both 
arms  full,  haven't  If 

"  One  of  them  will  be  black  and  blue  to-morrow,  if  you  don't  let  me 
go,"  cried  the  playful  Merry. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  253 

"  Ah  !  I  don't  mind  your  pinching,"  grinned  Jonas,  "  a  bit." 

"  Pinch  him  for  me,  Cherry,  pray,"  said  ^fercy.  "  I  never  did  hate 
anybody  so  much  as  I  hate  this  creature,  I  declare  !" 

"  No,  no,  don't  say  that,"  urged  Jonas,  "  and  don't  pinch  either, 
because  I  want  to  be  serious.     I  say — Cousin  Charity —  " 

"  Well  !  what  %  "she  answered,  sharply. 

"I  want  to  have  some  sober  talk,"  said  Jonas  :  "I  want  to  prevent 
any  mistakes,  you  know,  and  to  put  everything  upon  a  pleasant  under- 
standing.    That's  desirable  and  proper,  ain't  it  ?" 

Neither  of  the  sisters  spoke  a  word.  Mr.  Jonas  paused  and  cleared 
his  throat,  which  was  very  dry. 

"  She  '11  not  believe  what  I  'm  going  to  say,  will  she  cousin  % "  said 
Jonas,  timidly  squeezing  Miss  Charity. 

"  Really  Mr.  Jonas  I  don't  know,  until  I  hear  what  it  is.  It 's  quite 
impossible  !" 

"  Why,  you  see,"  said  Jonas,  "  her  way  always  being  to  make  game 
of  people,  I  know  she  '11  laugh,  or  pretend  to — I  know  that,  beforehand. 
But  you  can  tell  her  I  'm  in  earnest,  cousin  ;  can't  you  %  You  'II  confess 
you  know,  won't  you  ?  You  '11  be  honourable,  I  'm  sure,"  he  added 
persuasively. 

No  answer.  His  throat  seemed  to  grow  hotter  and  hotter,  and  to  be 
more  and  more  difficult  of  controul. 

"  You  see.  Cousin  Charity,"  said  Jonas,  "  nobody  but  you  can  tell  her 
what  pains  I  took  to  get  into  her  company  when  you  were  both  at  the 
boarding-house  in  the  city,  because  nobody  's  so  well  aware  of  it,  you 
know.  Nobody  else  can  tell  her  how  hard  I  tried  to  get  to  know  you 
better,  in  order  that  I  might  get  to  know  her  without  seeming  to  wish 
it ;  can  they  %  I  always  asked  you  about  her,  and  said  where  had  she 
gone,  and  when  would  she  come,  and  how  lively  she  was,  and  all 
that  ;  didn't  I,  cousin  %  I  know  you  '11  tell  her  so,  if  you  have  n't  told 
her  so  already,  and — and — I  dare  say  you  have,  because  I  'm  sure  you  're 
honourable,  ain't  you  ? ' ' 

Still  not  a  word.  The  right  arm  of  Mr.  Jonas — the  elder  sister  sat 
upon  his  right — may  have  been  sensible  of  some  tumultuous  throbbing 
which  was  not  within  itself ;  but  nothing  else  apprised  him  that  his 
words  had  had  the  least  effect. 

"Even  if  you  kept  it  to  yourself,  and  haven't  told  her,"  resumed 
Jonas,  "  it  don't  much  matter,  because  you  '11  bear  honest  witness  now  ; 
won't  you  %  We  've  been  very  good  friends  from  the  first ;  have  n't  we  % 
and  of  course  we  shall  be  quite  friends  in  future,  and  so  I  don't  mind 
speaking  before  you  a  bit.  Cousin  Mercy,  you  've  heard  what  I  've  been 
saying.  She  '11  confirm  it,  every  word  j  she  must.  Will  you  have  me 
for  your  husband  %     Eh  T' 

As  he  released  his  hold  of  Charity,  to  put  this  question  with  better 
effect,  she  started  up  and  hurried  away  to  her  own  room,  marking  her 
progress  as  she  went  by  such  a  train  of  passionate  and  incoherent  sound, 
as  nothing  but  a  slighted  woman  in  her  anger  could  produce. 

"  Let  me  go  away.  Let  me  go  after  her,"  said  Merry,  pushing  him 
off,  and  giving  him — to  tell  the  truth — more  than  one  sounding  slap 
upon  his  outstretched  face. 


254  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

'•  Xot  till  you  say  yes.  You  have  n't  told  me.  Will  you  have  me 
for  your  husband  ?" 

"  No,  I  wont.  I  can't  bear  the  sight  of  you.  I  have  told  you  so  a 
hundred  times.  You  are  a  fright.  Besides,  I  ahvays  thought  you  liked 
my  sister  best.     We  all  thought  so." 

"  But  that  was  n't  my  fault,"  said  Jonas. 

"  Yes,  it  was  :  you  know  it  was." 

"  Any  trick  is  fair  in  love,"  said  Jonas.  "  She  may  have  thought 
I  liked  her  best,  but  you  did  n't." 

"Ididl" 

"  No,  you  clid  n't.  You  never  could  have  thought  1  liked  her  best, 
Vv'hen  you  were  by." 

"  There  's  no  accounting  for  tastes,"  said  Merry  ;  "  at  least  I  did  n't 
mean  to  say  that.     I  don't  know  what  I  mean.     Let  me  go  to  her." 

"  Say  '  Yes,'  and  then  I  will." 

"  If  I  ever  "brought  myself  to  say  so,  it  should  only  be,  that  I  might 
hate  and  tease  you  all  my  life." 

"  That 's  as  good,"  cried  Jonas,  "  as  saying  it  right  out.  It 's  a  bar- 
gain, cousin.     We  're  a  pair,  if  ever  there  was  one." 

This  gallant  speech  was  succeeded  by  a  confused  noise  of  kissing  and 
slapping  ;  and  then  the  fair,  but  much  dishevelled  Merry,  broke  away, 
and  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  her  sister. 

Now,  whether  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  been  listening — which  in  one  of  his 
character  appears  impossible  :  or  divined  almost  by  inspiration  what 
the  matter  was — which,  in  a  man  of  his  sagacity  is  far  more  probable  : 
or  happened  by  sheer  good  fortune  to  find  himself  in  exactly  the  right 
place,  at  precisely  the  right  time — which,  under  the  special  guardianship 
in  which  he  lived  might  very  reasonably  happen  :  it  is  quite  certain  that 
at  the  moment  when  the  sisters  came  together  in  their  own  room,  he 
appeared  at  the  chamber  door.  And  a  marvellous  contrast  it  was — 
they  so  heated,  noisy,  and  vehement  ;  he  so  calm,  so  self-possessed,  so 
cool  and  full  of  peace,  that  not  a  hair  upon  his  head  was  stirred. 

"Children  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  spreading  out  his  hands  in  wonder, 
but  not  before  he  had  shut  the  door,  and  set  his  back  against  it. 
"  Girls  !     Daughters !     What  is  this  T' 

"  The  wretch;  the  apostate;  the  false,  mean,  odious  villain;  has  before 
my  very  face  proposed  to  Mercy  !"  was  his  elder  daughter's  answer. 
"Who  has  proposed  to  Mercy?"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"He  has.     That  thing.     Jonas,  down  stairs." 

"Jonas  proposed  to  Mercy!"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "Aye,  aye! 
Indeed  !" 

"  Have  you  nothing  else  to  say  ? "  cried  Charity.  "  Am  I  to  be 
driven  mad,  papa  %     He  has  proposed  to  Mercy,  not  to  me." 

"Oh,  fie!  For  shame!"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  gravely.  "Oh,  for 
shame  !  Can  the  triumph  of  a  sister  move  you  to  this  terrible  display, 
my  child  %  Oh,  really  this  is  very  sad  !  I  am  sorry  ;  I  am  surprised 
and  hurt  to  see  you  so.  Mercy,  my  girl,  bless  you  !  See  to  her.  Ah, 
envy,  envy,  what  a  passion  you  are  ! " 

Uttering  this  apostrophe  in  a  tone  full  of  grief  and  lamentation,  Mr. 
Pecksniff  left  the  room  (taking  care  to  shut  the  door  behind  him),  and 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  ZOO 

walked  down  stairs  into  the  parlour.     There  he  found  his  intended  son- 
in-law,  whom  he  seized  by  both  hands. 

"  Jonas  ! "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff',  "  Jonas  !  the  dearest  wish  of  m v  heart 
is  now  fulfilled  !" 

"  Very  well  ;  I  'm  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Jonas.  "  That  '11  do.  I 
say,  as  it  ain't  the  one  you  're  so  fond  of,  you  must  come  down  with 
another  thousand,  Pecksniff.  You  must  make  it  up  five.  It 's  worth 
that  to  keep  your  treasure  to  yourself,  you  know.  You  get  off  very 
cheap  that  way,  and  have  n't  a  sacrifice  to  make." 

The  grin  with  which  he  accompanied  this,  set  off  his  other  attractions 
to  such  unspeakable  advantage,  that  even  Mr.  Pecksniff  lost  his  presence 
of  mind  for  the  moment,  and  looked  at  the  young  man  as  if  he  were 
quite  stupified  with  wonder  and  admiration.  But  he  quickly  regained 
his  composure,  and  was  in  the  very  act  of  changing  the  subject,  when  a 
hasty  step  was  heard  without,  and  Tom  Pinch,  in  a  state  of  great 
excitement,  came  darting  into  the  room. 

On  seeing  a  stranger  there,  apparently  engaged  with  Mr.  Pecksniff  in 
private  conversation,  Tom  was  very  much  abashed,  though  he  still 
looked  as  if  he  had  something  of  great  importance  to  communicate, 
which  would  be  a  sufficient  apology  for  his  intrusion. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  '■  this  is  hardly  decent.  You  will 
excuse  my  saying  that  I  think  your  conduct  scarcely  decent,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  replied  Tom,  "  for  not  knocking  at  the 
door." 

"Rather  beg  this  gentleman's  pardon,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff. 
"  /  know  you  ;  he  does  not. — My  young  man,  Mr.  Jonas." 

The  son-in-law  that  Avas  to  be  gave  him  a  slight  nod — not  actively 
disdainful  or  contemptuous,  only  passively :  for  he  was  in  a  good 
humour. 

'-  Could  I  speak  a  word  with  you,  sir,  if  you  please  ?"  said  Tom.  "'It 's 
rather  pressing." 

"  It  should  be  very  pressing  to  justify  this  strange  behaviour,  Mr. 
Pinch,"  returned  his  master.  "  Excuse  me  for  one  moment,  my  dear 
friend.      Now,  sir,  what  is  the  reason  of  this  rough  intrusion  V.' 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,  I  am  sure,"  said  Tom,  standing,  cap  in  hand, 
before  his  patron  in  the  passage  :  "  and  I  know  it  must  have  a  very 
rude  appearance — " 

"  It  //as  a  very  rude  appearance,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"Yes,  I  feel  that,  sir;  but  the  truth  is,  I  was  so  surprised  to  see  them, 
and  knew  you  would  be  too,  that  I  ran  home  very  fast  indeed,  and 
really  had  n't  enough  command  over  myself  to  know  what  I  was  doing 
very  well.  I  was  in  the  church  just  now,  sir,  touching  the  organ  for  my 
own  amusement,  when  I  happened  to  look  round,  and  saw  a  gentleman 
and  lady  standing  in  the  aisle  listening.  They  seemed  to  be  strangers, 
sir,  as  well  as  I  could  make  out  in  the  dusk  :  and  I  thought  I  did  n't 
know  them  :  so  presently  I  left  off,  and  said,  would  they  walk  up  into 
the  organ-loft,  or  take  a  seat  ]  No,  they  said,  they  would  n't  do  that  ; 
but  they  thanked  me  for  the  music  they  had  heard — in  fact,"  observed 
Tom,  blushing — "  they  said,  '  Delicious  music  !'  at  least,  she  did ;  and  I 
am  sure  that  was  a  greater  pleasure  and  honour  to  me,  than  any  com- 


256  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

pliment  I  could  have  had.  I — I — beg  your  pardon,  sir;"  he  was  all  in 
a  tremble,  and  dropped  his  hat  for  the  second  time;  "but  I — I'm  rather 
flurried,  and  I  fear  I've  wandered  from  the  point." 

"  If  you  will  come  back  to  it,  Thomas,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  an 
icy  look,  "  I  shall  feel  obliged." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  returned  Tom,  "  certainly.  They  had  a  posting  carriage 
at  the  porch,  sir,  and  had  stopped  to  hear  the  organ,  they  said,  and  then 
they  said — she  said,  I  mean,  '  I  believe  you  live  with  Mr.  Pecksnifij 
sir?'  I  said  I  had  that  honour,  and  I  took  the  liberty,  sir,"  added  Tom, 
raising  his  eyes  to  his  benefactor's  face,  "  of  saying,  as  I  always  will  and 
must,  with  your  permission,  that  I  was  under  great  obligations  to  you, 
and  never  could  express  my  sense  of  them  sufficiently." 

"  That,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  was  very,  very  wrong.  Take  your  time 
Mr.  Pinch." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  cried  Tom.  "  On  that  they  asked  me — she  asked, 
I  mean — '  Wasn't  there  a  bridle-road  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house, — ' 

Mr.  Pecksniff  suddenly  became  full  of  interest. 

" '  Without  going  by  the  Dragon  % '  When  I  said  there  was,  and  said 
how  happy  I  should  be  to  show  it  'em,  they  sent  the  carriage  on  by  the 
road,  and  came  with  me  across  the  meadows.  I  left  'em  at  the  turnstile 
to  run  forward  and  tell  you  they  were  coming,  and  they'll  be  here,  sir, 
in — in  less  than  a  minute's  time,  I  should  say,"  added  Tom,  fetching  his 
breath  with  difficulty. 

"  Now  who,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pondering,  "  who  may  these 
people  be  !" 

"  Bless  my  soul,  sir  !"  cried  Tom,  "  I  meant  to  mention  that  at  first 
I  thought  I  had.  I  knew  them — her,  I  mean — directly.  The  gentle- 
man who  was  ill  at  the  Dragon,  sir,  last  winter ;  and  the  young  lady 
who  attended  him." 

Tom's  teeth  chattered  in  his  head,  and  he  positively  staggered  with 
amazement,  at  witnessing  the  extraordinary  effect  produced  on  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff by  these  simple  words.  The  dread  of  losing  the  old  man's  favour 
almost  as  soon  as  they  were  reconciled,  through  the  mere  fact  of  having 
Jonas  in  the  house  ;  the  impossibility  of  dismissing  Jonas,  or  shutting 
him  up,  or  tying  him  hand  and  foot  and  putting  him  in  the  coal-cellar, 
without  offending  him  beyond  recall ;  the  horrible  discordance  prevailing 
in  the  establishment,  and  the  impossibility  of  reducing  it  to  decent 
harmony,  with  Charity  in  loud  hysterics,  Mercy  in  the  utmost  disorder, 
Jonas  in  the  parlour,  and  Martin  Chuzzlewit  and  his  young  charge  upon  the 
very  door-steps ;  the  total  hopelessness  of  being  able  to  disguise  or  feasibly 
explain  this  state  of  rampant  confusion ;  the  sudden  accumulation  over 
his  devoted  head  of  every  complicated  perplexity  and  entanglement — for 
his  extrication  from  which  he  had  trusted  to  time,  good  fortune,  chance, 
and  his  own  plotting — so  filled  the  entrapped  architect  with  dismay,  that 
if  Tom  could  have  been  a  Gorgon  staring  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  Mr. 
Pecksniff  could  have  been  a  Gorgon  staring  at  Tom,  they  could  not  have 
horrified  each  other  half  so  much  as  in  their  OAvn  bewildered  persons. 

"Dear,  dear  !"  cried  Tom,  "what  have  I  done?  I  hoped  it  would 
be  a  pleasant  surprise,  sir.     I  thought  you  would  like  to  know." 

But  at  that  moment  a  loud  knocking  was  heard  at  the  hall-door. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  257 


CHAPTER  XXL 


MORE  AMERICAN  EXPERIENCES.  MARTIN  TAKES  A  PARTNER,  AND  MAKES 
A  PURCHASE.  SOME  ACCOUNT  OF  EDEN,  AS  IT  APPEARED  ON  PAPER. 
ALSO  OP  THE  BRITISH  LION.  ALSO  OF  THE  KIND  OF  SYMPATHY  PRO- 
FESSED AND  ENTERTAINED,  BY  THE  WATERTOAST  ASSOCIATION  OF  UNITED 
SYMPATHIZERS. 

The  knocking  at  Mr.  PecksnifTs  door,  though  loud  enough,  bore  no 
resemblance  whatever  to  the  noise  of  an  American  railway  train  at  full 
speed.  It  may  be  well  to  begin  the  present  chapter  with  this  frank 
admission,  lest  the  reader  should  imagine  that  the  sounds  now  deafening 
this  history's  ears  have  any  connection  with  the  knocker  on  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's door,  or  with  the  great  amount  of  agitation  pretty  equally  divided 
between  that  worthy  man  and  Mr.  Pinch,  of  which  its  strong  perform- 
ance was  the  cause. 

Mr.  Pecksniif's  house  is  more  than  a  thousand  leagues  away  ;  and 
again  this  happy  chronicle  has  Liberty  and  Moral  Sensibility  for  its  high 
companions.  Again  it  breathes  the  blessed  air  of  Independence  ;  again 
it  contemplates  with  pious  awe  that  moral  sense  which  renders  unto 
Csesar  nothing  that  is  his  ;  again  inhales  that  sacred  atmosphere  which 
was  the  life  of  him — oh  noble  patriot,  wdth  many  followers  ! — who 
dreamed  of  Freedom  in  a  slave's  embrace,  and  waking  sold  her  offspring 
and  his  own  in  public  markets. 

How  the  wheels  clank  and  rattle,  and  the  tram-road  shakes,  as  the 
train  rushes  on  !  And  now  the  engine  yells,  as  it  were  lashed  and  tor- 
tured like  a  living  labourer,  and  writhed  in  agony.  A  poor  fancy  ;  for 
steel  and  iron  are  of  infinitely  greater  account,  in  this  commonwealth, 
than  flesh  and  blood.  If  the  cunning  work  of  man  be  urged  beyond  its 
power  of  endurance,  it  has  within  it  the  elements  of  its  own  revenge  ; 
whereas  the  wretched  mechanism  of  the  Divine  Hand  is  dangerous  with 
no  such  property,  but  may  be  tampered  with,  and  crushed,  and  broken, 
at  the  driver's  pleasure.  Look  at  that  engine  1  It  shall  cost  a  man 
more  dollars  in  the  way  of  penalty  and  fine,  and  satisfaction  of  the 
outraged  law,  to  deface  in  wantonness  that  senseless  mass  of  metal,  than 
to  take  the  lives  of  twenty  human  creatures  !  Thus  the  stars  wink 
upon  the  bloody  stripes  ;  and  Liberty  pulls  down  her  cap  upon  her  eyes, 
and  owns  Oppression  in  its  vilest  aspect,  for  her  sister. 

The  engine-driver  of  the  train  whose  noise  awoke  us  to  the  present 
chapter,  was  certainly  troubled  with  no  such  reflections  as  these ;  nor  is 
it  very  probable  that  his  mind  was  disturbed  by  any  reflections  at  all. 
He  leaned  with  folded  arms  and  crossed  leo's  ao-ainst  the  side  of  the  car- 

o       o 

riage,  smoking  ;  and,  except  when  he  expressed,  by  a  grunt  as  short 
as  his  pipe,  his  approval  of  some  particularly  dexterous  aim  on  the  part 
of  his  colleague,  the  fireman,  who  beguiled  his  leisure  by  throwing  logs 
of  wood  from  the  tender  at  the  numerous  stray  cattle  on  the  line,  he 
preserved  a  composure  so  immovable,  and  an  indifference  so  complete, 
that  if  the  locomotive  had  been  a  sucking-pig,  he  could  not  have  been 

s 


258  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

more  perfectly  indiiferent  to  its  doings.  Notwithstanding  tlie  tran- 
quil state  of  this  officer,  and  his  unbroken  peace'of  mind,  the  train  was  pro- 
ceeding with  tolerable  rapidity  ;  and  the  rails  being  but  poorly  laid,  the 
jolts  and  bumps  it  met  with  in  its  progress  were  neither  slight  nor  few. 

There  were  three  great  caravans  or  cars  attached.  The  ladies'  car, 
the  gentlemen's  car,  and  the  car  for  negroes  :  the  latter  painted  black, 
as  an  appropriate  compliment  to  its  company.  Martin  and  Mark  Tapley 
were  in  the  first,  as  it  was  the  most  comfortable  j  and,  being  far  from 
full,  received  other  gentlemen  who,  like  them,  were  unblessed  by  the 
society  of  ladies  of  their  own.  They  were  seated  side  by  side,  and  were 
engaged  in  earnest  conversation. 

"  And  so,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  looking  at  him  with  an  anxious  expres- 
sion,— "  and  so  you  are  glad  we  have  left  New  York  far  behind  us,  are 
you  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mark.     "I  am.     Precious  glad." 

"  Were  you  not  ^  jolly  '  there  ?"  asked  Martin. 

"  On  the  contrairy,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  The  j  oiliest  week  as  ever 
I  spent  in  my  life,  was  that  there  week  at  Pawkins's." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  our  prospects '?"  inquired  Martin,  with  an 
air  that  plainly  said  he  had  avoided  the  question  for  some  time. 

"  Uncommon  bright,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  Impossible  for  a  place 
to  have  a  better  name,  sir,  than  the  Walley  of  Eden.  No  man  couldn't 
think  of  settling  in  a  better  place  than  the  Walley  of  Eden.  And  I  'm 
told,"  added  Mark  after  a  pause,  "  as  there's  lots  of  serpents  there,  so 
we  shall  come  out,  quite  complete  and  reg'lar." 

So  far  from  dwelling  upon  this  agreeable  piece  of  information  with 
the  least  dismay,  Mark's  face  grew  radiant  as  he  called  it  to  mind  :  so 
very  radiant,  that  a  stranger  might  have  supposed  he  had  all  his  life 
been  yearning  for  the  society  of  serpents,  and  now  hailed  with  delight 
the  approaching  consummation  of  his  fondest  Welshes. 

"  Who  told  you  that  ?"  asked  Martin,  sternly. 

"  A  military  officer,"  said  Mark. 

"  Confound  you  for  a  ridiculous  fellow  !"  cried  Martin,  laughing 
heartily  in  spite  of  himself.  "  What  military  officer  ?  you  know  they 
spring  up  in  every  field  " — 

"  As  thick  as  scarecrows  in  England,  sir,"  interposed  Mark,  "  which 
is  a  sort  of  militia  themselves,  being  entirely  coat  and  wescoat,  with 
a  stick  inside.  Ha,  ha  ! — Don't  mind  me,  sir  ;  it 's  my  way  sometimes. 
I  can't  help  being  jolly. — Why  it  was  one  of  them  inwading  conquerors 
at  Pawkins's,  as  told  me.  '  Am  I  rightly  informed,'  he  says — not 
exactly  through  his  nose,  but  as  if  he'd  got  a  stoppage  in  it,  very 
high  up — '  that  you're  a  going  to  the  Walley  of  Eden  V  '  I  heard 
some  talk  on  it,'  I  told  him.  '  Oh  !'  says  he,  '  if  you  should  ever  happen 
to  go  to  bed  there — you  ma?/,  you  know,'  he  says,  '  in  course  of  time  as 
civilisation  progresses — don't  forget  to  take  a  axe  with  you.'  I  looks 
at  him  tolerable  hard.  'Fleas  V  says  I.  '  And  more,'  says  he.  '  Wam- 
pires  V  says  I.  '  And  more,'  says  he.  '  Musquitoes,  perhaps  V  says  I. 
'  And  more,'  says  he.  *  What  more  V  says  I.  '  Snakes  more,'  says 
he;  rattlesnakes.    You're  right  to  a  certain  extent,  stranger;  there 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  259 

air  some  catawampous  chawers  in  the  small  way  too,  as  graze  upon  a 
human  pretty  strong ;  but  don't  mind  them — they're  company.  It's 
snakes'  he  says,  '  as  you  '11  object  to  :  and  whenever  you  wake  and  see 
one  in  a  upright  poster  on  your  bed,'  he  says,  '  like  a  corkscrew  with  the 
handle  off'  a  sittin'  on  its  bottom  ring,  cut  him  down,  for  he  means 
wenom.' " 

"  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  this  before  !"  cried  Martin,  with  an  ex- 
pression of  face  which  set  off  the  cheerfulness  of  Mark's  visage  to  great 
advantage. 

"  I  never  thought  on  it,  sir,"  said  Mark.  "  It  come  in  at  one  ear,  and 
went  out  at  the  other.  But  Lord  love  us,  he  was  one  of  another  Company 
I  dare  say,  and  only  made  up  the  story  that  we  might  go  to  his  Eden, 
and  not  the  opposition  one." 

"  There  's  some  probability  in  that,"  observed  Martin.  "  I  can  honestly 
say  that  I  hope  so,  with  all  my  heart." 

"  I've  not  a  doubt  about  it,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  who,  full  of  the 
inspiriting  influence  of  the  anecdote  upon  himself,  had  for  the  moment 
forgotten  its  probable  effect  upon  his  master  :  "  anyhow,  we  must  live, 
you  know,  sir." 

"  Live  !  "  cried  Martin.  "  Yes,  it's  easy  to  say  live  ;  but  if  we  should 
happen  not  to  wake  when  rattlesnakes  are  making  corkscrews  of  them- 
selves upon  our  beds,  it  may  not  be  so  easy  to  do  it." 

"  And  that 's  a  fact,"  said  a  voice  so  close  in  his  ear  that  it  tickled  him. 
"  That 's  dreadful  true." 

Martin  looked  round,  and  found  that  a  gentleman,  on  the  seat  behind, 
had  thrust  his  head  between  himself  and  Mark,  and  sat  with  his  chin 
resting  on  the  back  rail  of  their  little  bench,  entertaining  himself  with 
their  conversation.  He  was  as  languid  and  listless  in  his  looks,  as  most 
of  the  gentlemen  they  had  seen  ;  his  cheeks  were  so  hollow  that  he 
seemed  to  be  always  sucking  them  in  ;  and  the  sun  had  burnt  him — not 
a  wholesome  red  or  brown,  but  dirty  yellow.  He  had  bright  dark 
eyes,  which  he  kept  half  closed ;  only  peeping  out  of  the  corners,  and 
even  then  with  a  glance  that  seemed  to  say,  "  Now  you  won't  overreach 
me:  you  want  to,  but  you  won't."  His  arms  rested  carelessly  on 
his  knees  as  he  leant  forward ;  in  the  palm  of  his  left  hand,  as  English 
rustics  have  their  slice  of  cheese,  he  had  a  cake  of  tobacco ;  in  his  right 
a  penknife.  He  struck  into  the  dialogue  with  as  little  reserve  as  if  he 
had  been  specially  called  in,  days  before,  to  hear  the  arguments  on  both 
sides,  and  favour  them  with  his  opinion  ;  and  he  no  more  contemplated 
or  cared  for  the  possibility  of  their  not  desiring  the  honour  of  his 
acquaintance  or  interference  in  their  private  affairs,  than  if  he  had  been 
a  bear  or  a  bufflilo. 

"  That,"  he  repeated,  nodding  condescendingly  to  Martin,  as  to  an 
outer  barbarian  and  foreigner,  "  is  dreadful  true.  Darn  all  manner  of 
vermin." 

Martin  could  not  help  frowning  for  a  moment,  as  if  he  were  disposed 
to  insinuate  that  the  gentleman  had  unconsciously  "  darned  "  himself. 
But  rememberino^  the  wisdom  of  doin<r  at  Kome  as  Romans  do,  he  smiled 
with  the  pleasantest  expression  he  could  assume  upon  so  short  a  notice. 

s  2 


260  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Their  new  friend  said  no  more  just  then,  being  busily  employed  in 
cutting  a  quid  or  plug  from  his  cake  of  tobacco,  and  whistling  softly  to 
himself  the  while.  When  he  had  shaped  it  to  his  liking,  he  took  out  his 
old  plug,  and  deposited  the  same  on  the  back  of  the  seat  between  Mark 
and  Martin,  while  he  thrust  the  new  one  into  the  hollow  of  his  cheek, 
where  it  looked  like  a  large  walnut,  or  tolerable  pippin.  Finding  it 
quite  satisfactory,  he  stuck  the  point  of  his  knife  into  the  old  plug,  and 
holding  it  out  for  their  inspection,  remarked  with  the  air  of  a  man  who 
had  not  lived  in  vain,  that  it  was  "  used  up  considerable."  Then  he 
tossed  it  away  ;  put  his  knife  into  one  pocket  and  his  tobacco  into 
another  ;  rested  his  chin  upon  the  rail  as  before  ;  and  approving  of  the 
pattern  on  Martin's  waistcoat,  reached  out  his  hand  to  feel  the  texture  of 
that  garment. 

"  What  do  you  call  this  now  1  "  he  asked. 

"Upon  my  word,"  said  Martin,  "I  don't  know  what  it 's  called." 

"  It  '11  cost  a  dollar  or  more  a  yard,  I  reckon  1  " 

"  I  really  don't  know." 

"  In  my  country,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  we  know  the  cost  of  our  ov,^n 
pro-duce. 

Martin  not  discussing  the  question,  there  was  a  pause. 

"  Well  ! "  resumed  their  new  friend,  after  staring  at  them  intently 
during  the  whole  interval  of  silence  :  "  how 's  the  unnat'ral  old  parent 
by  this  time  1 " 

Mr.  Tapley,  regarding  this  enquiry  as  only  another  version  of  the 
impertinent  English  question — "  How  's  your  mother  1 " — would  have 
resented  it  instantly,  but  for  Martin's  prompt  interposition. 

"  You  mean  the  old  country  "?  "  he  said. 

"Ah!"  was  the  reply.  "How's  she!  Progressing  back'ards,  I 
expect,  as  usual  1     Well !    How  's  Queen  Victoria  ?" 

"  In  good  health,  I  believe,"  said  Martin. 

"  Queen  Victoria  v/on't  shake  in  her  royal  shoes  at  all,  when  she  hears 
to-morrow  named,"  observed  the  stranger.     "  No." 

"  Not  that  I  am  aware  of.     Why  should  she  1 " 

"  She  won't  be  taken  with  a  cold  chill,  when  she  realises  what  is  being 
done  in  these  diggings,"  said  the  stranger.     "  No." 

"  No,"  said  Martin.      "  I  think  I  could  take  my  oath  of  that." 

The  strange  gentleman  looked  at  him  as  if  in  pity  for  his  ignorance 
or  prejudice,  and  said  : 

"  Well,  sir,  I  tell  you  this — there  ain't  a  en-gine  with  its  biler  bust, 
in  God  A'mighty's  free  U-nited  States,  so  fixed,  and  nipped,  and  frizzled 
to  a  most  e-tarnal  smash,  as  that  young  critter,  in  her  luxurious  lo-cation 
in  the  Tower  of  London,  will  be,  when  she  reads  the  next  double-extra 
Watertoast  Gazette." 

Several  other  gentlemen  had  left  their  seats  and  gathered  round 
during  the  foregoing  dialogue.  They  were  highly  delighted  with  this 
speech.  One  very  lank  gentleman,  in  a  loose  limp  white  cravat,  a  long 
white  v/aistcoat,  and  a  bhick  great-coat,  who  seemed  to  be  in  authority 
among  them,  felt  called  upon  to  acknowledge  it. 

"  Hem  !     Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,"  he  said,  taking  off  his  hat. 


\ 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  261 

There  was  a  grave  murmur  of  "  Hush  ! " 

"  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle  !     Sir  !" 

Mr.  Kettle  bowed. 

"  In  the  name  of  this  company,  sir,  and  in  the  name  of  our  common 
country,  and  in  the  name  of  that  righteous  cause  of  holy  sympathy  in 
which  we  are  engaged,  I  thank  you.  I  thank  you,  sir,  in  the  name  of 
the  Watertoast  Sympathizers  ;  and  I  thank  you,  sir,  in  the  name  of  the 
Watertoast  Gazette  ;  and  I  thank  you,  sir,  in  the  name  of  the  star- 
spangled  banner  of  the  Great  United  States,  for  your  eloquent  and 
categorical  exposition.  And  if,  sir,"  said  the  speaker,  poking  Martin 
with  the  handle  of  his  umbrella  to  bespeak  his  attention,  for  he  was 
listening  to  a  whisper  from  Mark ;  "  if,  sir,  in  such  a  place,  and  at  such 
a  time,  I  might  venture  to  con-elude  with  a  sentiment,  glancing — how- 
ever slantin'dicularly — at  the  subject  in  hand,  I  would  say,  sir.  May 
the  British  Lion  have  his  talons  eradicated  by  the  noble  bill  of  the 
American  Eagle,  and  be  taught  to  play  upon  the  Irish  Harp  and  the 
Scotch  Fiddle  that  music  which  is  breathed  in  every  empty  shell  that 
lies  upon  the  shores  of  green  Co-lurabia  !" 

Here  the  lank  gentleman  sat  down  again,  amidst  a  great  sensation  ; 
and  every  one  looked  very  grave. 

"  General  Choke,"  said  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,  "  you  warm  my  heart ; 
sir,  you  warm  my  heart.  But  the  British  Lion  is  not  unrepresented 
here,  sir ;  and  I  should  be  glad  to  hear  his  answer  to  those  remarks." 

"  Upon  my  word,"  cried  Martin,  laughing,  "  since  you  do  me  the 
honour  to  consider  me  his  representative,  I  have  only  to  say  that  I  ne^er 
heard  of  Queen  Victoria  reading  the  What's-his-name  Gazette,  and  that 
I  should  scarcely  think  it  probable," 

General  Choke  smiled  upon  the  rest,  and  said,  in  patient  and 
benignant  explanation  : 

"  It  is  sent  to  her,  sir.     It  is  sent  to  her.     Per  Mail." 

"  But  if  it  is  addressed  to  the  Tower  of  London,  it  would  hardly  come 
to  hand,  I  fear,"  returned  Martin  :   "for  she  don't  live  there." 

"  The  Queen  of  England,  gentlemen,"  observed  j\lr.  Tapley,  affecting 
the  greatest  politeness,  and  regarding  them  with  an  immoveable  face, 
"  usually  lives  in  the  Mint,  to  take  care  of  the  money.  She  has  lodgings, 
in  virtue  of  her  office,  with  the  Lord  Mayor  at  the  Mansion-House  ;  but 
don't  often  occupy  them,  in  consequence  of  the  parlour  chimney  smoking." 

"  Mark,"  said  Martin,  "  I  shall  be  very  much  obliged  to  you  if  you  '11 
have  the  goodness  not  to  interfere  wdth  preposterous  statements,  however 
jocose  they  may  appear  to  you.  I  was  merely  remarking,  gentlemen — 
though  it 's  a  point  of  very  little  import — that  the  Queen  of  England 
does  not  happen  to  live  in  the  Tower  of  London." 

"  General  !"  cried  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle.     "  You  hear  V 

"  General  !"  echoed  several  others.     "  General  !" 

"  Hush  !  Pray,  silence  !"  said  General  Choke,  holding  up  his  hand, 
and  speaking  with  a  patient  and  complacent  benevolence  that  Avas  quite 
touching.  "  I  have  always  remarked  it  as  a  very  extraordinary  cir- 
cumstance, which  I  impute  to  the  natur'  of  British  Institutions  and 
their  tendency  to  suppress  that  popular  inquiry  and  information  which 


262  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

air  so  widely  diffused  even  in  the  trackless  forests  of  this  vast  Continent 
of  the  Western  Ocean  ;  that  the  knowledge  of  Britishers  themselves  on 
such  points  is  not  to  be  compared  with  that  possessed  by  our  intelligent 
and  locomotive  citizens.  This  is  interesting,  and  confirms  my  observ- 
ation. When  you  say,  sir,"  he  continued,  addressing  Martin^  "  that  your 
Queen  does  not  reside  in  the  Tower  of  London,  you  fall  into  an  error, 
not  uncommon  to  your  countrymen,  even  when  their  abilities  and 
moral  elements  air  such  as  to  command  respect.  But,  sir,  you  air  wrong. 
She  does  live  there — " 

"  When  she  is  at  the  Court  of  Saint  James's  j"  interposed  Kettle. 

"  When  she  is  at  the  Court  of  Saint  James's,  of  course,"  returned 
the  General,  in  the  same  benignant  w^ay  :  "  for  if  her  location  was  in 
Windsor  Pavilion  it  could  n't  be  in  London  at  the  same  time.  Your 
Tower  of  London,  sir,"  pursued  the  General,  smiling  with  a  mild  con- 
sciousness of  his  knowledge,  "  is  nat'rally  your  royal  residence.  Being 
located  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of  your  Parks,  your  Drives,  your 
Triumphant  Arches,  your  Opera,  and  your  Royal  Almacks,  it  nat'rally 
suggests  itself  as  the  place  for  holding  a  luxurious  and  thoughtless  court. 
And,  consequently,"  said  the  General,  "  consequently,  the  court  is  held 
there." 

"  Have  you  been  in  England  1 "  asked  Martin. 

"  In  print  I  have,  sir,"  said  the  General,  "  not  otherwise.  We  air 
a  reading  people  here,  sir.  You  will  meet  with  much  information 
among  us  that  will  surprise  you,  sir." 

"  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  of  it,"  returned  Martin.  But  here  he 
was  interrupted  by  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,  who  whispered  in  his  ear : 

"  You  know  General  Choke  1 " 

"No,"  returned  Martin,  in  the  same  tone. 

"  You  know  what  he  is  considered  ? " 

"  One  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  the  country  1 "  said  Martin,  at 
a  venture. 

"  That 's  a  fact,"  rejoined  Kettle.  "  I  was  sure  you  must  have  heard 
of  him  !  " 

"  I  think,"  said  Martin,  addressing  himself  to  the  General  again, 
"  that  I  have  the  pleasure  of  being  the  bearer  of  a  letter  of  introduction 
to  you,  sir.  From  Mr.  Bevan,  of  Massachusetts,"  he  added,  giving  it 
to  him. 

The  General  took  it  and  read  it  attentively  :  now  and  then  stopping 
to  glance  at  the  two  strangers.  When  he  had  finished  the  note,  he 
came  over  to  Martin,  sat  down  by  him,  and  shook  hands. 

"  Well  !"  he  said,  "  and  you  think  of  settling  in  Eden  1  " 

"  Subject  to  your  opinion,  and  the  agent's  advice,"  replied  Martin. 
"  I  am  told  there  is  nothing  to  be  done  in  the  old  towns." 

"  I  can  introduce  you  to  the  agent,  sir,"  said  the  General.  "  I  know 
him.     In  fact,  I  am  a  member  of  the  Eden  Land  Corporation  myself." 

This  was  serious  news  to  Martin,  for  his  friend  had  laid  great  stress 
upon  the  General's  having  no  connection,  as  he  thought,  with  any  land 
company,  and  therefore  being  likely  to  give  him  disinterested  advice. 
The  General  explained  that  he  had  joined  the  Corporation  only  a  few 


JIARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  263 

weeks  ago,  and  tliat  no  communication  had  passed  between  himself  and 
Mr.  Bevan  since. 

"  We  have  very  little  to  venture,"  said  Martin  anxiously — "  only  a 
few  pounds — but  it  is  our  all.  Now,  do  you  think  that  for  one  of  my 
profession,  this  would  be  a  speculation  with  any  hope   or  chance  in  it  1 " 

"  Well  ! "  observed  the  General,  gravely,  "  if  there  was  n't  any  hope 
or  chance  in  the  speculation,  it  would  n't  have  engaged  my  dollars,  I 
opinionate." 

"  I  don't  mean  for  the  sellers,"  said  Martin.  '•  For  the  buyers — for 
the  buyers  !" 

"  For  the  buyers,  sir  1 "  observed  the  General,  in  a  most  impressive 
manner.  "  Well  !  you  come  from  an  old  country  :  from  a  country, 
sir,  that  has  piled  up  golden  calves  as  high  as  Babel,  and  worshipped 
'em  for  ages.  We  are  a  new  country,  sir  ;  man  is  in  a  more  primeval 
state  here,  sir  ;  we  have  not  the  excuse  of  having  lapsed  in  the  slow 
course  of  time  into  degenerate  practices  ;  we  have  no  false  gods  ;  man, 
sir,  here,  is  man  in  all  his  dignity.  We  fought  for  that  or  nothing. 
Here  am  I,  sir,"  said  the  General,  setting  up  his  umbrella  to  represent 
himself  j  and  a  villanous-looking  umbrella  it  was  ;  a  very  bad  counter  to 
stand  for  the  sterling  coin  of  his  benevolence  :  "  here  am  I  with  gray 
hairs,  sir,  and  a  moral  sense.  Would  I,  with  my  principles,  invest  capital 
in  this  speculation  if  I  did  n't  think  it  full  of  hopes  and  chances  for  my 
brother  man  1 " 

Martin  tried  to  look  convinced,  but  he  thought  of  New  York,  and 
found  it  difficult. 

"  What  are  the  Great  United  States  for,  sir,"  pursued  the  General,  "  if 
not  for  the  regeneration  of  man  1  But  it  is  nat'ral  in  you  to  make  such 
an  enquerry,  for  you  come  from  England,  and  you  do  not  know  my 
country." 

"  Then  you  think,"  said  Martin,  "  that  allowing  for  the  hardships  we 
are  prepared  to  undergo,  there  is  a  reasonable — Heaven  knows  we  don't 
expect  much — a  reasonable  opening  in  this  place  V 

"  A  reasonable  opening  in  Eden,  sir !  But  see  the  agent,  see  the  agent ; 
see  the  maps,  and  plans,  sir  ;  and  conclude  to  go  or  st;iy,  according  to  the 
natur'  of  the  settlement.  Eden  hadn't  need  to  go  a  begging  yet,  sir," 
remarked  the  General. 

"  It  is  an  awful  lovely  place,  sure-ly.  And  frightful  wholesome, 
likewise !"  said  Mr.  Kettle,  who  had  made  himself  a  party  to  this 
conversation  as  a  matter  of  course. 

Martin  felt  that  to  dispute  such  testimony,  for  no  better  reason  than 
because  he  had  his  secret  <  misgivings  on  the  subject,  would  be  ungen- 
tlemanly  and  indecent.  So  he  thanked  the  General  for  his  promise  to 
put  him  in  personal  communication  with  the  agent ;  and  "  concluded" 
to  see  that  officer  next  morning.  He  then  begged  the  General  to  inform 
him  who  the  Watertoast  Sympathizers  were,  of  whom  he  had  spoken  in 
addressing  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,  and  on  what  grievances  they  bestowed 
their  Sympathy.  To  which  the  General,  looking  very  serious,  made 
answer,  that  he  might  fully  enlighten  himself  on  those  points  to-morrow 
by  attending  a  Great  Meeting  of  the  Body,  which  would  then  be  held  at  the 


264  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

town  to  wliicli  tliey  were  travelling  :  "  over  which,  sir,"  said  the  General, 
"  my  fellow-citizens  have  called  on  me  to  preside." 

They  came  to  their  journey's  end  late  in  the  evening.  Close  to  the 
railway  was  an  immense  white  edifice,  like  an  ugly  hospital,  on  which 
was  painted  "  National  Hotel."  There  was  a  wooden  gallery  or 
verandah  in  front,  in  which  it  was  rather  startling,  when  the  train  stop- 
ped, to  behold  a  great  many  pairs  of  boots  and  shoes,  and  the  smoke  of 
a  great  many  cigars,  but  no  other  evidences  of  human  habitation.  By 
slow  degrees,  however,  some  heads  and  shoulders  appeared,  and  connecting 
themselves  with  the  boots  and  shoes,  led  to  the  discovery  that  certain 
gentlemen  boarders,  who  had  a  fancy  for  putting  their  heels  where  the 
gentlemen  boarders  in  other  countries  usually  put  their  heads,  were 
enjoying  themselves  after  their  own  manner,  in  the  cool  of  the  evening. 

There  was  a  great  bar-room  in  this  hotel,  and  a  great  public  room  in 
which  the  general  table  was  being  set  out  for  supper.  There  were  inter- 
minable whitewashed  staircases,  long  whitewashed  galleries  up  stairs  and 
down  stairs,  scores  of  little  whitewashed  bedrooms,  and  a  four-sided 
verandah  to  every  story  in  the  house,  which  formed  a  large  brick  square 
with  an  uncomfortable  court- yard  in  the  centre  :  where  some  clothes 
were  drying.  Here  and  there,  some  yawning  gentlemen  lounged  up  and 
down  with  their  hands  in  their  pockets ;  but  within  the  house  and 
without,  wherever  half  a  dozen  people  were  collected  together,  there,  in 
their  looks,  dress,  morals,  manners,  habits,  intellect  and  conversation, 
were  Mr.  Jefferson  Brick,  Colonel  Diver,  Major  Pawkins,  General  Choke, 
and  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,  over,  and  over,  and  over  again.  They  did 
the  same  things  ;  said  the  same  things  ;  judged  all  subjects  by,  and 
reduced  all  subjects  to,  the  same  standard.  Observing  how  they  lived, 
and  how  they  were  always  in  the  enchanting  company  of  each  other, 
Martin  CYcn  began  to  comprehend  their  being  the  social,  cheerful, 
winning,  airy  men  they  were. 

At  the  sounding  of  a  dismal  gong,  this  pleasant  company  went  troop- 
ing down  from  all  parts  of  the  house  to  the  public  room  ;  while  from 
the  neighbouring  stores  other  guests  came  flocking  in,  in  shoals  ;  for  half 
the  town,  married  folks  as  well  as  single,  resided  at  the  National  Hotel. 
Tea,  coffee,  dried  meats,  tongue,  ham,  pickles,  cake,  toast,  preserves,  and 
bread  and  butter,  were  swallowed  with  the  usual  ravaging  speed ;  and 
then,  as  before,  the  company  dropped  off  by  degrees,  and  lounged  away 
to  the  desk,  the  counter,  or  the  bar-room.  The  ladies  had  a  smaller 
ordinary  of  their  own,  to  which  their  husbands  and  brotliers  were  admitted 
if  they  chose;  and  in  all  other  respects  they  enjoyed  themselves  as  at 
Pawkins's. 

"  Now  Mark,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Martin,  closing  the  door  of  his 
little  chamber,  "  we  must  hold  a  solemn  council,  for  our  fate  is  decided 
to-morrow  morning.  You  are  determined  to  invest  these  savings  of 
yours  in  the  common  stock,  are  you  ?" 

"  If  I  hadn't  been  determined  to  make  that  wentur,  sir,"  answered 
Mr.  Tapley,  "  I  shouldn't  have  come." 

"  How  much  is  there  here,  did  you  say  ?  "  asked  Martin,  holding  up 
a  little  bag. 


MAETIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  2Q5 

"  Thirty-seven  pound  ten  and  sixpence.  The  Savings'  Bank  said  so, 
at  least.  I  never  counted  it.  But  the//  know,  bless  you,"  said  Mark, 
with  a  shake  of  the  head  expressive  of  his  unbounded  confidence  in  the 
wisdom  and  arithmetic  of  those  Institutions. 

"  The  money  we  brought  with  us,"  said  Martin,  "  is  reduced  to  a  few 
shillings  less  than  eight  pounds." 

Mr.  Tapley  smiled,  and  looked  all  manner  of  ways,  that  he  might  not 
be  supposed  to  attach  any  importance  to  this  fact. 

"  Upon  the  ring — her  ring,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  looking  ruefully  at 
His  empty  finger — 

"  Ah  ! "  sighed  Mr.  Tapley.     "  Beg  your  pardon,  sir." 

"  We  raised,  in  English  money,  fourteen  pounds.  So,  even  with  that, 
your  share  of  the  stock  is  still  very  much  the  larger  of  the  two,  you 
see.  Now  Mark,"  said  Martin,  in  his  old  way,  just  as  he  might  have 
spoken  to  Tom  Pinch,  '•  I  have  thought  of  a  means  of  making  this  up 
to  you, — more  than  making  it  up  to  you,  I  hope, — and  very  materially 
elevating  your  prospects  in  life." 

"  Oh  !  don't  talk  of  that,  you  know,  sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  I  don't 
want  no  elevating,  sir.     I'm  all  right  enough,  sir,  /  am." 

"  No,  but  hear  me,"  said  Martin,  "  because  this  is  very  important  to 
you,  and  a  great  satisfaction  to  me.  Mark,  you  shall  be  a  partner  in 
the  business  :  an  equal  partner  with  myself.  I  will  put  in,  as  my 
additional  capital,  my  professional  knowledge  and  ability  ;  and  half  the 
annual  profits,  as  long  as  it  is  carried  on,  shall  be  yours." 

Poor  Martin  !  for  ever  building  castles  in  the  air.  For  ever,  in  his 
very  selfishness,  forgetful  of  all  but  his  own  teeming  hopes  and  sanguine 
plans.  Swelling,  at  that  instant,  with  the  consciousness  of  patronising 
and  most  munificently  rewarding  Mark  ! 

"I  don't  know,  sir,"  Mark  rejoined,  much  more  sadly  than  his  custom 
was,  though  from  a  very  different  cause  than  Martin  supposed,  "  what  I 
can  say  to  this,  in  the  way  of  thanking  you.  I  '11  stand  by  you,  sir,  to 
the  best  of  my  ability,  and  to  the  last.     That's  all." 

"We  quite  understand  each  other,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Martin, 
rising  in  self-approval  and  condescension.  "  We  are  no  longer  master 
and  servant,  but  friends  and  partners  ;  and  are  mutually  gratified.  If 
we  determine  on  Eden,  the  business  shall  be  commenced  as  soon  as  we 
get  there.  Under  the  name,"  said  Martin,  who  never  hammered  upon 
an  idea  that  wasn't  red  hot,  "  under  tlie  name  of  Chuzzlewit  and 
Tapley." 

"  Lord  love  you,  sir,"  cried  Mark,  "  don't  have  my  name  in  it.  I  ain't 
acquainted  with  the  business,  sir.  I  must  be  Co.,  I  must.  I  've  often 
thought,"  he  added,  in  a  low  voice,  "  as  I  should  like  to  know  a  Co.  j 
but  I  little  thought  as  ever  I  should  live  to  be  one." 

"  You  shall  have  your  own  way,  Mark." 

"  Thanke'e,  sir.  If  any  country  gentleman  thereabouts,  in  the  public 
way,  or  otherwise,  wanted  such  a  thing  as  a  skittle-ground  made,  I 
could  take  that  part  of  the  bis'ness,  sir." 

"  Against  any  architect  in  the  States,"  said  Martin.  "  Get  a  couple 
of  sherry-cobblers,  Mark,  and  we  '11  drink  success  to  the  firm." 


266  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Either  lie  forgot  already  (and  often  afterwards),  tliat  they  were  no 
longer  master  and  servant,  or  considered  this  kind  of  duty  to  be  among 
the  legitimate  functions  of  the  Co.  But  Mark  obeyed  with  his  usual 
alacrity  ;  and  before  they  parted  for  the  night,  it  was  agreed  between 
them  that  they  should  go  together  to  the  agent's  in  the  morning,  but 
that  Martin  should  decide  the  Eden  question,  on  his  own  sound  judg- 
ment. And  Mark  made  no  merit,  even  to  himself  in  his  jollity,  of  this 
concession  ;  perfectly  well  knowing  that  the  matter  would  come  to  that 
in  the  end,  any  way. 

The  General  was  one  of  the  party  at  the  public  table  next  day,  and 
after  breakfast  suggested  that  they  should  wait  upon  the  agent  without 
loss  of  time.  They,  desiring  nothing  more,  agreed  ;  so  off  they  all  four 
started  for  the  office  of  the  Eden  Settlement,  which  was  almost  within 
rifle-shot  of  the  National  Hotel. 

It  was  a  small  place — something  like  a  turnpike.  But  a  great  deal 
of  land  may  be  got  into  a  dice-box,  and  why  may  not  a  whole  territory 
be  bargained  for,  in  a  shed  ?  It  was  but  a  temporary  office  too  ;  for  the 
Edeners  were  '•  going  "  to  build  a  superb  establishment  for  the  transaction 
of  their  business,  and  had  already  got  so  far  as  to  mark  out  the  site  : 
which  is  a  great  way  in  America.  The  office-door  was  wide  open,  and 
in  the  door-way  was  the  agent  :  no  doubt  a  tremendous  fellow  to  get 
through  his  work,  for  he  seemed  to  have  no  arrears,  but  was  swinging 
backwards  and  forwards  in  a  rocking-chair,  with  one  of  his  legs  planted 
high  up  against  the  door-post,  and  the  other  doubled  up  under  him,  as 
if  he  were  hatching  his  foot. 

He  was  a  gaunt  man  in  a  huge  straw  hat,  and  a  coat  of  green  stulQP. 
The  weather  being  hot,  he  had  no  cravat,  and  wore  his  shirt  collar  wide 
open ;  so  that  every  time  he  spoke  something  was  seen  to  twitch  and 
jerk  up  in  his  throat,  like  the  little  hammers  in  a  harpsichord  when  the 
notes  are  struck.  Perhaps  it  was  the  Truth  feebly  endeavouring  to  leap 
to  his  lips.      If  so,  it  never  reached  them. 

Two  gray  eyes  lurked  deep  within  this  agent's  head,  but  one  of  them 
had  no  sight  in  it,  and  stood,  stock  still.  With  that  side  of  his  face  he 
seemed  to  listen  to  what  the  other  side  was  doing.  Thus  each  profile 
had  a  distinct  expression  ;  and  when  the  moveable  side  was  most  in 
action,  the  rigid  one  was  in  its  coldest  state  of  watchfulness.  It  was  like 
turning  the  man  inside  out,  to  pass  to  that  view  of  his  features  in 
his  liveliest  mood,  and  see  how  calculating  and  intent  they  were. 

Each  long  black  hair  upon  his  head  hung  down  as  straight  as  any 
plummet  line,  but  rumpled  tufts  were  on  the  arches  of  his  eyes,  as  if  the 
crow  whose  foot  was  deeply  printed  in  the  corners,  had  pecked  and  torn 
them  in  a  savage  recognition  of  his  kindred  nature  as  a  bird  of  prey. 

Such  was  the  man  whom  they  now  approached,  and  whom  the 
General  saluted  by  the  name  of  Scadder. 

"  Well,  Gen'ral,"  he  returned,  "  and  how  are  you  ?" 

"  Ac-tive  and  spry,  sir,  in  my  country's  service  and  the  sympathetic 
cause.     Two  gentlemen  on  business,  Mr.  Scadder." 

He  shook  hands  with  each  of  them — nothing  is  done  in  America 
without  shaking  hands — then  went  on  rocking. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  267 

"  I  tliink  I  know  what  bis'ness  you  have  brought  these  straugers  here 
upon,  then,  Gen'ral  1 " 

"  "Well,  sir.     I  expect  you  may." 

"  You  air  a  tongue-y  person,  Gen'ral.  For  you  talk  too  much,  and 
that 's  a  fact,"  said  Scadder.  '•  You  speak  a-larming  well  in  public,  but 
you  didn't  ought  to  go  ahead  so  fast  in  private.     Now  !" 

"  If  I  can  realise  your  meaning,  ride  me  on  a  rail ! "  returned  the 
General,  after  pausing  for  consideration. 

"  You  know  we  didn't  wish  to  sell  the  lots  off  right  away  to  any  loafer 
as  might  bid,"  said  Scadder ;  "  but  had  con-eluded  to  reserve  'em  for 
Aristocrats  of  Natur'.     Yes  ! " 

"  And  they  are  here,  sir  ! "  cried  the  General  with  warmth.  "  They 
are  here,  sir  ! " 

"  If  they  air  here,"  returned  the  agent,  in  reproachful  accents,  "  that 's 
enough.  But  you  didn't  ought  to  have  your  dander  ris  with  77ie, 
Gen'ral." 

The  General  whispered  Martin  that  Scadder  was  the  honestest  fellow 
in  the  world,  and  that  he  wouldn't  have  given  him  offence  designedly, 
for  ten  thousand  dollars. 

"  I  do  my  duty ;  and  I  raise  the  dander  of  my  feller  critturs,  as  I  wish 
to  serve,"  said  Scadder  in  a  low  voice,  looking  down  the  road  and  rocking 
still.  "  They  rile  up  rough,  along  of  my  objecting  to  their  selling  Eden 
off  too  cheap.     That 's  human  natur' !     Well ! " 

"  Mr.  Scadder,"  said  the  General,  assuming  his  oratorical  deportment. 
"  Sir  !  Here  is  my  hand,  and  here  my  heart.  I  esteem  you,  sir,  and 
ask  your  pardon.  These  gentlemen  air  friends  of  mine,  or  I  would  not 
have  brought  'em  here,  sir,  being  well  aware,  sir,  that  the  lots  at  present 
go  entirely  too  cheap.  But  these  air  friends,  sir ;  these  air  partick'ler 
friends." 

Mr.  Scadder  was  so  satisfied  by  this  explanation,  that  he  shook  the 
General  warmly  by  the  hand,  and  got  out  of  the  rocking-chair  to  do  it. 
He  then  invited  the  General's  particular  friends  to  accompany  him  into 
the  ofhce.  As  to  the  General,  he  observed,  with  his  usual  benevolence, 
that  being  one  of  the  company,  he  wouldn't  interfere  in  the  transaction 
on  any  account ;  so  he  appropriated  the  rocking-chair  to  himself,  and 
looked  at  the  prospect,  like  a  good  Samaritan  waiting  for  a  traveller. 

"  Heyday  ! "  cried  Martin,  as  his  eye  rested  on  a  great  plan  which 
occupied  one  whole  side  of  the  ofRce.  Indeed,  the  office  had  little  else 
in  it,  but  some  geological  and  botanical  specimens,  one  or  two  rusty 
ledgers,  a  homely  desk,  and  a  stool.     '^  Heyday  !  what 's  that  ? " 

"  That's  Eden,"  said  Scadder,  picking  his  teeth  with  a  sort  of  young 
bayonet  that  flew  out  of  his  knife  when  he  touched  a  spring. 

"  Why,  I  had  no  idea  it  was  a  city." 

"  Had  n't  you  1     Oh,  it 's  a  city." 

A  flourishing  city,  too  !  An  architectural  city  !  There  were  banks, 
churches,  cathedrals,  market-places,  factories,  hotels,  stores,  mansions, 
wharves  ;  an  exchange,  a  theatre  ;  public  buildings  of  all  kinds,  do^vn 
to  the  office  of  the  Eden  Stinger,  a  daily  journal  j  all  faithfully  depicted 
in  the  view  before  them.  ; 


268  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Dear  me  !  It 's  really  a  most  important  place  !  "  cried  Martin, 
turning  round. 

"  Oh  !  it 's  very  important,"  observed  the  agent. 

"  But,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Martin,  glancing  again  at  the  Public  Build- 
ings, "  that  there  's  nothing  left  for  me  to  do." 

"  Well  !  it  ain't  all  built,"  replied  the  agent.     "  Not  quite." 

This  was  a  great  relief. 

"  The  market-place,  now,"  said  Martin.     "  Is  that  built  V 

"  That  1 "  said  the  agent,  sticking  his  toothpick  into  the  weathercock 
on  the  top.     "  Let  me  see.     No  :  that  ain't  built." 

"  Bather  a  good  job  to  begin  with, — eh,  Mark  ?"  whispered  Martin, 
nudging  him  with  his  elbow. 

Mark,  who,  with  a  very  stolid  countenance  had  been  eyeing  the  plan 
and  the  agent  by  turns,  merely  rejoined  "  Uncommon  !" 

A  dead  silence  ensued,  Mr.  Scadder  in  some  short  recesses  or  vaca- 
tions of  his  toothpick,  whistled  a  few  bars  of  Yankee  Doodle,  and  blew 
the  dust  off  the  roof  of  the  Theatre. 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Martin,  feigning  to  look  more  narrowly  at  the 
plan,  but  showing  by  his  tremulous  voice  how  much  depended,  in  his 
mind,  upon  the  answer;  "I  suppose  there  are — several  architects  there?" 

''  There  ain't  a  single  one,"  said  Scadder. 

"  Mark,"  whispered  Martin,  pulling  him  by  the  sleeve,  "  do  you  hear 
that  ?     But  whose  work  is  all  this  before  us,  then  ?"  he  asked  aloud. 

"  The  soil  being  very  fruitful,  public  buildings  grows  spontaneous, 
perhaps,"  said  Mark. 

He  was  on  the  agent's  dark  side  as  he  said  it ;  but  Scadder  instantly 
changed  his  place,  and  brought  his  active  eye  to  bear  upon  him. 

"  Feel  of  my  hands,  young  man,"  he  said. 

"What  for  V  asked  Mark  :  declining. 

"  Air  they  dirty, or  air  they  clean,  sir?"  said  Scadder, holding  them  out. 

In  a  physical  point  of  view  they  were  decidedly  dirty.  But  it  being 
obvious  that  Mr.  Scadder  offered  them  for  examination  in  a  figurative 
sense,  as  emblems  of  his  moral  character,  Martin  hastened  to  pronounce 
them  pure  as  the  driven  snow. 

"  I  entreat,  Mark,"  he  said,  with  some  irritation,  "that  you  will  not 
obtrude  remarks  of  that  nature,  which,  however  harmless  and  well- 
intentioned,  are  quite  out  of  place,  and  cannot  be  expected  to  be  very 
agreeable  to  strangers.     I  am  quite  surprised." 

"  The  Co.'s  a  putting  his  foot  in  it  already,"  thought  Mark.  "'  He 
must  be  a  sleeping  partner — fast  asleep  and  snoring — Co.  must  :  /  see." 

Mr.  Scadder  said  nothing,  but  he  set  his  back  against  the  plan,  and 
thrust  his  toothpick  into  the  desk  some  twenty  times  :  looking  at  Mark 
all  the  while  as  if  he  were  stabbing  him  in  effigy. 

"  You  have  n't  said  whose  work  it  is,"  Martin  ventured  to  observe, 
at  length,  in  a  tone  of  mild  propitiation. 

"  Well,  never  mind  whose  work  it  is,  or  is  n't,"  said  the  agent  sulkily. 
"  No  matter  how  it  did  eventuate.  P'raps  he  cleared  off",  handsome, 
with  a  heap  of  dollars  ;  p'rhaps  he  was  n't  worth  a  cent.  P'raps  he  was 
a  loafin'  rowdy  ;  p'raps  a  ring-tailed  roarer.     Now ! " 


^€..^^^^t^  ^^'^^^^i<  a^.^a/yi.sa^(P7Z^?^2/ze^. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  269 

"  All  your  doing,  Mark  ! "  said  Martin. 

"  P'raps,"  pursued  the  agent,  "  them  an't  plants  of  Eden's  raising. 
No  !  P'raps  that  desk  and  stool  ain't  made  from  Eden  lumber.  No  ! 
P'raps  no  end  of  squatters  ain't  gone  out  there.  No  !  P'raps  there  ain't 
no  such  lo-cation  in  the  territoarj  of  the  Great  U-nited  States.    Oh,  no  !" 

"  I  hope  you  're  satisfied  with  the  success  of  your  joke,  Mark,"  said 
Martin. 

But  here,  at  a  most  opportune  and  happy  time,  the  General  inter- 
posed, and  called  out  to  Scadder  from  the  doorway  to  give  his  friends 
the  particulars  of  that  little  lot  of  fifty  acres  with  the  house  upon  it ; 
which,  having  belonged  to  the  company  formerly,  had  lately  lapsed 
again  into  their  hands. 

"  You  air  a  deal  too  open-handed,  Gen'ral,"  was  the  answer.  "  It  is 
a  lot  as  should  be  rose  in  price.     It  is." 

He  grumblingly  opened  his  books  notwithstanding,  and  always  keep- 
ing his  bright  side  towards  Mark,  no  matter  at  what  amount  of  incon- 
venience to  himself,  displayed  a  certain  leaf  for  their  perusal.  Martin 
read  it  greedily,  and  then  inquired  : 

"  Now  where  upon  the  plan  may  this  place  be  1  " 

"  Upon  the  plan  1  "  said  Scadder. 

"  Yes." 

He  turned  towards  it,  and  reflected  for  a  short  time,  as  if,  having 
been  put  upon  his  mettle,  he  was  resolved  to  be  particular  to  the  very 
minutest  hair's  breadth  of  a  shade.  At  length,  after  wheeling  his  tooth- 
pick slowly  round  and  round  in  the  air,  as  if  it  were  a  carrier  pigeon 
just  thrown  up,  he  suddenly  made  a  dart  at  the  drawing,  and  pierced 
the  very  centre  of  the  main  wharf,  through  and  through. 

"  There  !  "  he  said,  leaving  his  knife  quivering  in  the  wall ;  "  that 's 
where  it  is  !  " 

Martin  glanced  with  sparkling  eyes  upon  his  Co.,  and  his  Co.  saw  that 
the  thing  was  done. 

The  bargain  was  not  concluded  as  easily  as  might  have  been  expected 
though,  for  Scadder  was  caustic  and  ill-humoured,  and  cast  much 
unnecessary  opposition  in  the  way  :  at  one  time  requesting  them  to 
think  of  it,  and  call  again  in  a  week  or  a  fortnight  ;  at  another,  pre- 
dicting that  they  would  n't  like  it  ;  at  another,  offering  to  retract  and 
let  them  off,  and  muttering  strong  imprecations  upon  the  folly  of  the 
General.  But  the  whole  of  the  astoundingly  small  sum  total  of  purchase 
money — it  was  only  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars,  or  something  more 
than  thirty  pounds  of  the  capital  brought  by  Co.  into  the  architectural 
concern — was  ultimately  paid  down  ;  and  Martin's  head  was  two  inches 
nearer  the  roof  of  the  little  wooden  office,  with  the  consciousness  of 
being  a  landed  proprietor  in  the  thriving  city  of  Eden. 

"  If  it  shouldn't  happen  to  fit,"  said  Scadder,  as  he  gave  Martin  the 
necessary  credentials  on  receipt  of  his  money,  "  don't  blame  me." 

"  No,  no,"  he  replied  merrily.  "  We  '11  not  blame  you.  General,  are 
you  going  1  " 

"  I  am  at  your  service,  sir  ;  and  I  wish  you,"  said  the  General,  giving 
him  his  hand  with  grave  cordiality,  "joy  of  your  po-session.     You  air 


270  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

now,  sir,  a  denizen  of  the  most  powerful  and  highly-civilised  do-minion 
that  has  ever  graced  the  world  ;  a  do-minion,  sir,  where  man  is  bound 
to  man  in  one  vast  bond  of  equal  love  and  truth.  May  you,  sir,  be 
worthy  of  your  a-dopted  country  !  " 

Martin  thanked  him,  and  took  leave  of  Mr.  Scadder  ;  who  had  resumed 
his  post  in  the  rocking-chair,  immediately  on  the  General's  rising  from 
it,  and  was  once  more  swinging  away  as  if  he  had  never  been  disturbed. 
Mark  looked  back  several  times  as  they  went  down  the  road  towards  the 
]S[ational  Hotel,  but  now  his  blighted  profile  was  towards  them,  and 
nothing  but  attentive  thoughtfulness  was  written  on  it.  Strangely 
different  to  the  other  side !  He  was  not  a  man  much  given  to  laughing, 
and  never  laughed  outright ;  but  every  line  in  the  print  of  the  crow's  foot, 
and  every  little  wiry  vein  in  that  division  of  his  head,  was  wrinkled  up  into 
a  grin  !  The  compound  figure  of  Death  and  the  Lady  at  the  top  of  the  old 
ballad  was  not  divided  with  a  greater  nicety,  and  hadn't  halves  more  mon- 
strously unlike  each  other,  than  the  two  profiles  of  Zephaniah  Scadder. 

The  General  posted  along  at  a  great  rate,  for  the  clock  was  on  the 
stroke  of  twelve ;  and  at  that  hour  precisely,  the  Great  JMeeting  of  the 
Watertoast  Sympathisers  was  to  be  holden  in  the  public  room  of  the 
National  Hotel.  Being  very  curious  to  witness  the  demonstration,  and 
know  what  it  was  all  about,  Martin  kept  close  to  the  General :  and, 
keeping  closer  than  ever  when  they  entered  the  Hall,  got  by  that  means 
upon  a  little  platform  of  tables  at  the  upper  end :  where  an  arm-chair 
was  set  for  the  General,  and  Mr.  La  Fayette  Kettle,  as  secretary,  was 
making  a  great  display  of  some  foolscap  documents — Screamers,  no  doubt. 

"Well,  sir!"  he  said,  as  he  shook  hands  with  Martin,  "here  is  a 
spectacle  calc'lated  to  make  the  British  Lion  put  his  tail  between  his 
legs,  and  howl  with  anguish,  I  expect !" 

Martin  certainly  thought  it  possible  that  the  British  Lion  might  have 
been  rather  out  of  his  element  in  that  Ark  :  but  he  kept  the  idea  to 
himself.  The  General  was  then  voted  to  the  chair,  on  the  motion  of  a 
pallid  lad  of  the  Jefferson  Brick  school :  who  forthwith  set  in  for  a  high- 
spiced  speech,  with  a  good  deal  about  hearths  and  homes  in  it,  and 
unriveting  the  chains  of  Tyranny. 

Oh  but  it  was  a  clincher  for  the  British  Lion,  it  was !  The  indignation 
of  the  glowing  young  Columbian  knew  no  bounds.  If  he  could  only 
have  been  one  of  his  own  forefathers,  he  said,  wouldn't  he  have  peppered 
that  same  Lion,  and  been  to  him  as  another  Brute  Tamer  with  a  wire 
whip,  teaching  him  lessons  not  easily  forgotten.  "  Lion !  (cried  that  young 
Columbian)  where  is  he  1  Who  is  he?  What  is  he  ?  Show  him  to  me. 
Let  me  have  him  here.  Here  ! "  said  the  young  Columbian,  in  a  wrestling 
attitude,  "  upon  this  sacred  altar.  Here  ! "  cried  the  young  Columbian, 
idealising  the  dining-table,  "  upon  ancestral  ashes,  cemented  with  the 
glorious  blood  poured  out  like  water  on  our  native  plains  of  Chickabiddy 
Lick  !  Bring  forth  that  Lion  ! "  said  the  young  Columbian.  "  Alone, 
I  dare  him  !  I  taunt  that  Lion.  I  tell  that  Lion,  that  Freedom's  hand 
once  twisted  in  his  mane,  he  rolls  a  corse  before  me,  and  the  Eagles  of 
the  Great  Republic  laugh  ha,  ha  ! " 

When  it  was  found  that  the  Lion  didn't  come,  but  kept  out  of  the 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  271 

way ;  that  the  young  Columbian  stood  there,  with  folded  arms,  alone  in 
his  glory  ;  and  consequently  that  the  Eagles  were  no  doubt  laughing 
wildly  on  the  mountain  tops, — such  cheers  arose  as  might  have  shaken 
the  hands  upon  the  Horse-Guards'  clock,  and  changed  the  very  mean  time 
of  the  day  in  England's  capital. 

"  Who  is  this  V  Martin  telegraphed  to  La  Fayette. 

The  Secretary  wrote  .  something,  very  gravely,  on  a  piece  of  paper, 
twisted  it  up,  and  had  it  passed  to  him  from  hand  to  hand.  It  was  an 
improvement  on  the  old  sentiment :  "  Perhaps  as  remarkable  a  man  as 
any  in  our  country." 

This  young  Columbian  was  succeeded  by  another,  to  the  full  as  eloquent 
as  he,  who  drew  down  storms  of  cheers.  But  both  remarkable  youths, 
in  their  great  excitement  (for  your  true  poetry  can  never  stoop  to  details), 
forgot  to  say  with  whom  or  what  the  Watertoasters  sympathised,  and  like- 
wise why  or  wherefore  they  were  sympathetic.  Thus,  Martin  remained 
for  a  long  time  as  completely  in  the  dark  as  ever  ;  until  at  length  a  ray 
of  light  broke  in  upon  him  through  the  medium  of  the  Secretary,  who, 
by  reading  the  minutes  of  their  past  proceedings,  made  the  matter  some- 
what clearer.  He  then  learned  that  the  Watertoast  Association  sym- 
pathised with  a  certain  Public  Man  in  Ireland,  who  held  a  contest  upon 
certain  points  with  England  :  and  that  they  did  so,  because  they  did  n't 
love  England  at  all — not  by  any  means  because  they  loved  Ireland 
much  :  being  indeed  horribly  jealous  and  distrustful  of  its  people  always, 
and  only  tolerating  them  because  of  their  working  hard,  which  made 
them  very  useful ;  labour  being  held  in  greater  indignity  in  the  simple 
republic  than  in  any  other  country  upon  earth.  This  rendered  Martin 
curious  to  see  what  grounds  of  sympathy  the  Watertoast  Association 
put  forth ;  nor  was  he  long  in  suspense,  for  the  General  rose  to  read 
a  letter  to  the  Public  Man,  which  with  his  own  hands  he  had  written. 

"  Thus,"  said  the  General,  "thus,  my  friends  and  fellow-citizens,  it  runs : 

" '  Sir, 

" '  I  address  you  on  behalf  of  the  Watertoast  Association  of  United 
Sympathisers.  It  is  founded,  sir,  in  the  great  republic  of  America  ! 
and  now  holds  its  breath,  and  swells  the  blue  veins  in  its  forehead  nigh 
to  bursting,  as  it  watches,  sir,  with  feverish  intensity  and  sympathetic 
ardour,  your  noble  efforts  in  the  cause  of  Freedom.'  " 

At  the  name  of  Freedom,  and  at  every  repetition  of  that  name,  all 
the  Sympathisers  roared  aloud ;  cheering  with  nine  times  nine,  and 
nine  times  over. 

" '  In  Freedom's  name,  sir — holy  Freedom — I  address  you.  In 
Freedom's  name,  I  send  herewith  a  contribution  to  the  funds  of  your 
Society.  In  Freedom's  name,  sir,  I  advert  with  indignation  and  disgust 
to  that  accursed  animal,  with  gore-stained  whiskers,  whose  rampant 
cruelty  and  fiery  lust  have  ever  been  a  scourge,  a  torment,  to  the  world. 
The  naked  visitors  to  Crusoe's  Island,  sir  ;  the  flying  wives  of  Peter 
Wilkins ;  the  fruit-smeared  children  of  the  tangled  bush  ;  nay,  even 
the  men  of  large  stature,  anciently  bred  in  the  mining  districts  of  Corn- 
wall ;  alike  bear  witness  to  its  savage  nature.     Where,  sir,  are  the 


272  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Cormorans,  tlie  Blunderbores,  the  Great  Feefofums,  named  in  History  ? 
all,  all,  exterminated  by  its  destroying  hand. 

" '  I  allude,  sir,  to  the  British  Lion. 

"  *  Devoted,  mind  and  body,  heart  and  soul,  to  Freedom,  sir — to 
Freedom,  blessed  solace  to  the  snail  upon  the  cellar-door,  the  oyster  in 
his  pearly  bed,  the  still  mite  in  his  home  of  cheese,  the  very  winkle 
of  your  country  in  his  shelly  lair — in  her  unsullied  name,  we  offer 
you  our  sympathy.  Oh,  sir,  in  this  our  cherished  and  our  happy  land, 
her  fires  burn  bright  and  clear  and  smokeless  :  once  lighted  up  in  yours, 
the  lion  shall  be  roasted  whole. 

"  '  I  am,  sir,  in  Freedom's  name, 

"  '  Your  affectionate  friend  and  faithful  Sympathiser, 
" '  Cyrus  Choke. 

"'General,  U.  S.  M.'" 

It  happened  that  just  as  the  General  began  to  read  this  letter,  the 
railroad  train  arrived,  bringing  a  new  mail  from  England  ;  and  a  packet 
had  been  handed  in  to  the  Secretary,  which  during  its  perusal  and  the 
frequent  cheerings  in  homage  to  freedom,  he  had  opened.  Now,  its  con- 
tents disturbed  him  very  much,  and  the  moment  the  General  sat  down, 
he  hurried  to  his  side,  and  placed  in  his  hand  a  letter  and  several  printed 
extracts  from  English  ncAvspapers  ;  to  which,  in  a  state  of  infinite  excite- 
ment, he  called  his  immediate  attention. 

The  General,  being  greatly  heated  by  his  own  composition,  was  in  a 
fit  state  to  receive  any  inflammable  influence  ;  but  he  had  no  sooner 
possessed  himself  of  the  contents  of  these  documents,  than  a  change 
came  over  his  face,  involving  such  a  huge  amount  of  clioler  and  passion, 
that  the  noisy  concourse  were  silent  in  a  moment,  in  very  wonder  at 
the  sight  of  him. 

"  My  friends  ! "  cried  the  General,  rising  ;  '•  my  friends  and  fellow- 
citizens,  we  have  been  mistaken  in  this  man." 

"  In  what  man  1 "  was  the  cry. 

"  In  this,"  panted  the  General,  holding  up  the  letter  he  had  read  aloud 
a  few  minutes  before.  "  I  find  that  he  has  been,  and  is,  the  advocate 
— consistent  in  it  always  too — of  Nigger  emancipation  !  " 

If  anything  beneath  the  sky  be  real,  those  Sons  of  Freedom  would 
have  pistolled,  stabbed — in  some  way  slain — that  man  by  coward  hands 
and  murderous  violence,  if  he  had  stood  among  them  at  that  time.  The 
most  confiding  of  their  own  countrymen,  would  not  have  wagered  then  ; 
no,  nor  would  they  ever  peril  ;  one  dunghill  straw,  upon  the  life  of  any 
man  in  such  a  strait.  They  tore  the  letter,  cast  the  fragments  in  the 
air,  trod  down  the  pieces  as  they  fell ;  and  yelled,  and  groaned,  and  hissed, 
till  they  could  cry  no  longer. 

"  I  shall  move,"  said  the  General,  when  he  could  make  himself  heard, 
"  that  the  Watertoast  Association  of  United  Sympathisers  be  imme- 
diately dissolved  !  " 

Down  with  it  !  Away  with  it  !  Don't  hear  of  it !  Burn  its  records  ! 
Pull  the  room  down  !     Blot  it  out  of  human  memory  ! 

"  But,  my  fellow  countrymen  !  "  said  the  General,  "  the  contributions. 
We  have  funds.    What  is  to  be  done  with  the  funds  ?" 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  273 

It  was  hastily  resolved  that  a  piece  of  plate  should  be  presented  to  a 
certain  constitutional  Judge,  who  had  laid  down  from  the  Bench  the 
noble  principle,  that  it  was  lawful  for  any  white  mob  to  murder  any  black 
man ;  and  that  another  piece  of  plate,  of  similar  value,  should  be  pre- 
sented to  a  certain  Patriot,  who  had  declared  from  his  high  place  in  the 
Legislature,  that  he  and  his  friends  would  hang,  without  trial,  any 
Abolitionist  who  might  pay  them  a  visit.  For  the  surplus,  it  was  agreed 
that  it  should  be  devoted  to  aiding  the  enforcement  of  those  free  and 
equal  laws,  which  render  it  incalculably  more  criminal  and  dangerous 
to  teach  a  negro  to  read  and  write,  than  to  roast  him  alive  in  a  public 
city.  These  points  adjusted,  the  meeting  broke  up  in  great  disorder  : 
and  there  was  an  end  of  the  Watertoast  Sympathy. 

As  Martin  ascended  to  his  bedroom,  his  eye  was  attracted  by  the 
Republican  banner,  which  had  been  hoisted  from  the  house-top  in 
honour  of  the  occasion,  and  was  fluttering  before  a  window  which  he 
passed. 

"  Tut  !  "  said  Martin.  "  You're  a  gay  flag  in  the  distance.  But  let  a 
man  be  near  enough  to  get  the  light  upon  the  other  side,  and  see 
through  you  ;  and  you  are  but  sorry  fustian  !  " 


CHAPTER   XXII.  ^ 


FROM    WHICH    IT    WILL    BE    SEEN    THAT    MARTIN    BECASIE    A    LION    ON    HIS 
OWN    ACCOUNT.       TOGETHER    WITH    THE    REASON    WHY. 

As  soon  as  it  was  generally  known  in  the  National  Hotel,  that  the 
young  Englishman,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  had  purchased  '"a  lo-cation"  in  the 
Valley  of  Eden,  and  intended  to  betake  himself  to  that  earthly  Paradise 
by  the  next  Steamboat ;  he  became  a  popular  character.  Why  this 
should  be,  or  how  it  had  come  to  pass,  Martin  no  more  knew  than 
Mrs.  Gamp  of  Kingsgate-street,  High  Holborn,  did  ;  but  that  he  was 
for  the  time  being,  the  lion,  by  popular  election,  of  the  Watertoast 
community,  and  that  his  society  was  in  rather  inconvenient  request, 
there  could  be  no  kind  of  doubt. 

The  first  notification  he  received  of  this  change  in  his  position,  was  the 
following  epistle,  written  in  a  thin  running  hand, — with  here  and  there 
a  fat  letter  or  two,  to  make  the  general  effect  more  striking, — on  a  sheet 
of  paper,  ruled  with  blue  lines. 

*^  National  Hotel, 

"  Dear  Sir,  "  Monday  ]\IornIng. 

"  When  I  had  the  privillidge  of  being  your  fellow-traveller  in 
the  cars,  the  day  before  yesterday,  you  offered  some  remarks  upon  the 
subject  of  the  Tower  of  London,  which  (in  common  with  my  fellow- 
citizens  generally)  I  could  wish  to  hear  repeated  to  a  public  audience. 

"  As  secretary  to  the  Young  Mens'  Watertoast  Association  of  this  toAvn, 
I  am  requested  to  inform  you  that  the  Society  will  be  proud  to  hear  you 
deliver  a  lecture  upon  the  Tower  of  London,  at  their  Hall  to-morrow 

T 


274  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

evening,  at  seven  o'clock  ;  and  as  a  large  issue  of  quarter-dollar  tickets 
may  be  expected,  your  answer  and  consent  by  bearer  will  be  considered 
obliging. 

"  Dear  Sir, 

"  Yours  truly, 

"  La  Fayette  Kettle. 
"  The  Honorable  M.  Chuzzlewit. 

"  P.S. — The  Society  would  not  be  particular  in  limiting  you  to  the 
Tower  of  London.  Permit  me  to  suggest  that  any  remarks  upon  the 
Elements  of  Geology,  or  (if  more  convenient)  upon  the  Writings  of  your 
talented  and  witty  countryman,  the  honourable  Mr.  Miller,  would  be  well 
received." 

Very  much  aghast  at  this  invitation,  Martin  wrote  back,  civilly 
declining  it ;  and  had  scarcely  done  so,  when  he  received  another  letter. 

"  No.  47,  Bunker  Hill  Street, 
"  Private.  "  Monday  Morning. 

"  Sir, 

"  I  was  raised  in  those  interminable  solitudes  where  our 
mighty  Mississippi  (or  Father  of  Waters)  rolls  his  turbid  flood. 

•'  I  am  young,  and  ardent.  For  there  is  a  poetry  in  wildness,  and  every 
alligator  basking  in  the  slime  is  in  himself  an  Epic,  self-contained.  I 
aspirate  for  fame.     It  is  my  yearning  and  my  thirst. 

"  Are  you,  sir,  aware  of  any  member  of  Congress  in  England,  who 
would  undertake  to  pay  my  expenses  to  that  country,  and  for  six  months 
after  my  arrival  1 

"  There  is  something  within  me  which  gives  me  the  assurance  that  this 
enlightened  patronage  would  not  be  thrown  away.  In  literature  or  art ; 
the  bar,  the  pulpit,  or  the  stage  •  in  one  or  other,  if  not  all,  I  feel  that 
I  am  certain  to  succeed. 

"  If  too  much  engaged  to  write  to  any  such  yourself,  please  let  me 
have  a  list  of  three  or  four  of  those  most  likely  to  respond,  and  I  will 
address  them  through  the  Post  Ofiice.  May  I  also  ask  you  to  favour  me 
with  any  critical  observations  that  have  ever  presented  themselves  to 
your  reflective  faculties,  on  '  Cain,  a  Mystery,'  by  the  Right  Honourable 
Lord  Byron? 

"  I  am,  Sir, 

"  Yours  (forgive  me  if  I  add,  soaringly), 

"Putnam  Smif. 
'•'P.S. — Address  your  answer  to  America  Junior,  Messrs.  Hancock  & 
Floby,  Dry  Goods  Store,  as  above." 

Both  of  which  letters,  together  with  Martin's  reply  to  each,  were, 
according  to  a  laudable  custom,  much  tending  to  the  promotion  of  gen- 
tlemanly feeling  and  social  confidence,  published  in  the  next  number  of 
the  Watertoast  Gazette. 

He  had  scarcely  got  through  this  correspondence,  when  Captain 
Kedgick,  the  landlord,  kindly  came  up  stairs  to  see  how  he  was  getting 
on.  The  Captain  sat  down  upon  the  bed  before  he  spoke;  and  finding 
it  rather  hard,  moved  to  the  pillow. 

"Well,  sir  !"  said  the  Captain,  putting  his  hat  a  little  more  on  one 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  275 

side,  for  it  was  rather  tight  in  the  crown  :  "  You  're  quite  a  public  man, 
I  calc'late." 

"  So  it  seems,"  retorted  Martin,  who  was  very  tired. 

"  Our  citizens,  sir,"  pursued  the  Captain,  "  intend  to  pay  their  respects 
to  you.     You  will  have  to  hold  a  sort  of  le — vee,  sir,  while  you  're  here." 

"Powers  above!"  cried  Martin,  "I  couldn't  do  that,  my  good 
fellow  !" 

"  I  reckon  you  7nicst  then,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Must  is  not  a  pleasant  word,  Captain,"  urged  Martin. 

"  Well !  I  didn't  fix  the  mother  language,  and  I  can't  unfix  it,"  said 
the  Captain,  coolly  :  "  else  I'd  make  it  pleasant.  You  must  re-ceive. 
That 's  all." 

"  But  why  should  I  receive  people  who  care  as  much  for  me  as  I  care 
for  them  1 "  asked  Martin. 

"  Well !  because  I  have  had  a  muniment  put  up  in  the  bar,"  returned 
the  Captain. 

"A  what  ?"  cried  Martin. 

"A  muniment,"  rejoined  the  Captain. 

Martin  looked  despairingly  at  Mark,  who  informed  him  that  the 
Captain  meant  a  written  notice  that  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  would  receive  the 
Watertoasters  that  day,  at  and  after  two  o'clock  :  which  was,  in  effect, 
then  hanging  in  the  bar,  as  Mark  from  ocular  inspection  of  the  same 
could  testify. 

"  You  wouldn't  be  unpop'lar,  /  know,"  said  the  Captain,  paring  his 
nails.  "  Our  citizens  an't  long  of  riling  up,  I  tell  you  ;  and  our 
Gazette  could  flay  you  like  a  wild  cat." 

Martin  was  going  to  be  very  wroth,  but  he  thought  better  of  it,  and 
said  : 

"  In  Heaven's  name  let  them  come,  then." 

"Oh,  i/ie2/'\l  come,"  returned  the  Captain.  "I  have  seen  the  big 
room  fixed  a'purpose,  with  my  eyes." 

"  But  will  you,"  said  Martin,  seeing  that  the  Captain  was  about  to 
go ;  "  will  you  at  least  tell  me  this.  What  do  they  want  to  see  me 
for  1  what  have  I  done  1  and  how  do  they  happen  to  have  such  a  sudden 
interest  in  me '?  " 

Captain  Kedgick  put  a  thumb  and  three  fingers  to  each  side  of  the 
brim  of  his  hat ;  lifted  it  a  little  way  off  his  head  ;  put  it  on  again 
carefully ;  passed  one  hand  all  down  his  face,  beginning  at  the  forehead 
and  ending  at  the  chin  ;  looked  at  Martin ;  then  at  Mark  ;  then  at 
Martin  again  ;  winked  ;  and  walked  out. 

"  Upon  my  life,  now  !"  said  Martin,  bringing  his  hand  heavily  upon 
the  table  ;  "  such  a  perfectly  unaccountable  fellow  as  that,  I  never  saw. 
Mark,  what  do  you  say  to  this  *?" 

"  Why,  sir,"  returned  his  partner,  "  my  opinion  is  that  we  must  have 
got  to  the  MOST  remarkable  man  in  the  country,  at  last.  So  I  hope 
there's  an  end  of  the  breed,  sir." 

Although  this  made  Martin  laugh,  it  couldn't  keep  off  two  o'clock. 
Punctually,  as  the  hour  struck,  Captain  Kedgick  returned  to  hand 
hira  to  the  room  of  state  ;  and  he  had  no  sooner  got  him  safe  there, 

T  2 


276  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

than  lie  bawled  down  the  staircase  to  his  fellow-citizens  below,  that 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit  was  "receiving." 

Up  they  came  with  a  rush.  Up  they  came  until  the  room  was  full, 
and,  through  the  open  door,  a  dismal  perspective  of  more  to  come  was 
shown  upon  the  stairs.  One  after  another,  one  after  another,  dozen 
after  dozen,  score  after  score,  more,  more,  more,  up  they  came  :  all 
shaking  hands  with  Martin.  Such  varieties  of  hands,  the  thick,  the 
thin,  the  short,  the  long,  the  fat,  the  lean,  the  coarse,  the  fine ;  such 
differences  of  temperature,  the  hot,  the  cold,  the  dry,  the  moist,  the 
flabby ;  such  diversities  of  grasp,  the  tight,  the  loose,  the  short-lived, 
and  the  lingering  !  Still  up,  up,  up,  more,  more,  more  :  and  ever  and 
anon  the  Captain's  voice  Avas  heard  above  the  crowd — "  There's  more 
below  ;  there's  more  below.  Now,  gentlemen,  you  that  have  been  intro- 
duced to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  will  you  clear,  gentlemen  1  Will  you  clear  ? 
Will  you  be  so  good  as  clear,  gentlemen,  and  make  a  little  room  for  more?" 

Regardless  of  the  Captain's  cries,  they  didn't  clear  at  all,  but  stood 
there,  bolt  upright  and  staring.  Two  gentlemen  connected  with  the 
Watertoast  Gazette  had  come  express  to  get  the  matter  for  an  article  on 
Martin.  They  had  agreed  to  divide  the  labour.  One  of  them  took 
him  below  the  waistcoat ;  one  above.  Each  stood  directly  in  front  of 
his  subject  with  his  head  a  little  on  one  side,  intent  on  his  department. 
If  Martin  put  one  boot  before  the  other,  the  lower  gentleman  was  down 
upon  him  j  he  rubbed  a  pimple  on  his  nose,  and  the  upper  gentleman 
booked  it.  He  opened  his  mouth  to  speak,  and  the  same  gentleman  was 
on  one  knee  before  him,  looking  in  at  his  teeth,  with  the  nice  scrutiny  of 
a  dentist.  Amateurs  in  the  physiognomical  and  phrenological  sciences 
roved  about  him  with  watchful  .eyes  and  itching  fingers,  and  sometimes 
one,  more  daring  than  the  rest,  made  a  mad  grasp  at  the  back  of  his  head, 
and  vanished  in  the  crowd.  They  had  him  in  all  points  of  view  :  in 
front,  in  profile,  three-quarter  face,  and  behind.  Those  who  were  not 
professional  or  scientific,  audibly  exchanged  opinions  on  his  looks.  New 
lights  shone  in  upon  him,  in  respect  of  his  nose.  Contradictory  rumours 
were  abroad  on  the  subject  of  his  hair.  And  still  the  Captain's  voice 
was  heard — so  stifled  by  the  concourse,  that  he  seemed  to  speak  from 
underneath  a  feather-bed — exclaiming,  "  Gentlemen,  you  that  have  been 
introduced  to  Mr.  Chuzzlev»^it,  will  you  clear  1 " 

Even  when  they  began  to  clear,  it  was  no  better ;  for  then  a  stream 
of  gentlemen,  every  one  with  a  lady  on  each  arm  (exactly  like  the 
chorus  to  the  National  Anthem  when  Royalty  goes  in  state  to  the  play), 
lame  gliding  in — every  new  group  fresher  than  the  last,  and  bent  on 
staying  to  the  latest  moment.  If  they  spoke  to  him,  which  was  not 
often,  they  invariably  asked  the  same  questions,  in  the  same  tone  ; 
with  no  more  remorse,  or  delicacy,  or  consideration,  than  if  he  had 
been  a  figure  of  stone,  purchased,  and  paid  for,  and  set  up  there,  for 
their  delight.  Even  when,  in  the  slow  course  of  time,  these  died  off, 
it  was  as  bad  as  ever,  if  not  worse  ;  for  then  the  boys  grew  bold,  and 
came  in  as  a  class  of  themselves,  and  did  everything  that  the  grown-up 
people  had  done.  Uncouth  stragglers  too  appeared  ;  men  of  a  ghostly 
kind,  who  being  in,  didn't  know  how  to  get  out  again  :    insomuch 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  277 

that  one  silent  gentleman  with  glazed  and  fishy  eyes,  and  only  one 
button  on  his  waistcoat  (which  was  a  very  large  metal  one,  and  shone 
prodigiously),  got  behind  the  door,  and  stood  there,  like  a  Clock,  long- 
after  everybody  else  was  gone, 

Martin  felt,  from  pure  fatigue,  and  heat,  and  worry,  as  if  he  could 
have  fallen  on  the  ground  and  willingly  remained  there,  if  they  would 
but  have  had  the  mercy  to  leave  him  alone.  But  as  letters  and  mes- 
sages threatening  his  public  denouncement  if  he  didn't  see  the  senders, 
poured  in  like  hail  ;  and  as  more  visitors  came  while  he  took  his 
coffee  by  himself;  and  as  Mark,  with  all  his  vigilance,  was  unable  to 
keep  them  from  the  door;  he  resolved  to  go  to  bed — not  that  he  felt 
at  all  sure  of  bed  being  any  protection,  but  that  he  might  not  leave 
a  forlorn  hope  untried. 

He  had  communicated  this  design  to  Mark,  and  was  on  the  eve  of 
escaping,  when  the  door  was  thrown  open  in  a  great  hurry,  and  an 
elderly  gentleman  entered  :  bringing  with  him  a  lady  who  certainly 
could  not  be  considered  young — that  was  matter  of  fact ;  and  probably 
could  not  be  considered  handsome — but  that  was  matter  of  opinion. 
She  was  very  straight,  very  tall,  and  not  at  all  flexible  in  face  or  figure. 
On  her  head  she  wore  a  great  straw  bonnet,  with  trimmings  of  the 
same,  in  which  she  looked  as  if  she  had  been  thatched  by  an  unskilful 
labourer;  and  in  her  hand  she  held  a  most  enormous  fan. 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  believe?"  said  the  gentleman. 

"  That  is  my  name." 

"  Sir,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  I  am  pressed  for  time." 

"  Thank  God  !"  thought  Martin. 

"  I  go  back  Toe  my  home,  sir,"  pursued  the  gentleman,  "  by  the 
return  train,  which  starts  immediate.  Start  is  not  a  word  you  use  in 
your  country,  sir." 

"  Oh  yes,  it  is,"  said  I\Iartin. 

"  You  air  mistaken,  sir,"  returned  the  gentleman,  vrith  great  deci- 
sion :  "but  we  will  not  pursue  the  subject,  lest  it  should  awake  your 
preJLi — dice.     Sir,  Mrs.  Hominy." 

Martin  bowed. 

"  Mrs.  Hominy,  sir,  is  the  lady  of  Ma,jor  Hominy,  one  of  our  chicest 
spirits  ;  and  belongs  Toe  one  of  our  most  aristocratic  families.  You 
air,  p'raps,  acquainted,  sir,  with  Mrs.  Hominy's  writings  V 

Martin  couldn't  say  he  was. 

"  You  have  much  Toe  learn,  and  Toe  enjoy,  sir,"  said  the  gentleman. 
"  Mrs.  Hominy  is  going  Toe  stay  until  the  end  of  the  Fall,  sir,  with 
her  married  daughter  at  the  settlement  of  New  Thermopylae,  three  days 
this  side  of  Eden.  Any  attention,  sir,  that  you  can  show  Toe  Mrs. 
Hominy  upon  the  journey,  will  be  very  grateful  Toe  the  Major  and  our 
fellow-citizens.  Mrs.  Hominy,  I  wish  you  good  night,  ma'am,  and  a 
pleasant  pro-gress  on  your  rout  !" 

Martin  could  scarcely  believe  it ;  but  he  had  gone,  and  Mrs.  Hominy 
was  drinking  the  milk. 

"  A'most  used-up  I  am,  I  do  declare  !"  she  observed.  "  The  jolting  in 
the  cars  is  pretty  nigh  as  bad  as  if  the  rail  was  full  of  snags  and  sawyers." 


278  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

"Snags  and  sawyers,  ma'am  V  said  Martin. 

"  Well,  then,  I  do  suppose  you  '11  hardly  realise  my  meaning,  sir/* 
said  Mrs.  Hominy.     "  My  !    Only  think  !    Do  tell  !  " 

It  did  not  appear  that  these  expressions,  although  they  seemed  to 
conclude  with  an  urgent  entreaty,  stood  in  need  of  any  answer ;  for 
Mrs.  Hominy,  untying  her  bonnet-strings,  observed  that  she  would  with- 
draw to  lay  that  article  of  dress  aside,  and  would  return  immediately. 

"  Mark  !"  said  Martin.     "  Touch  me,  will  you.     Am  I  awake  ?" 

"  Hominy  is,  sir,"  returned  his  partner — "  Broad  awake  !  Just  the 
sort  of  woman,  sir,  as  would  be  discovered  with  her  eyes  wide  open,  and 
her  mind  a-working  for  her  country's  good,  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or 
night." 

They  had  no  opportunity  of  saying  more,  for  Mrs.  Hominy  stalked  in 
again — ^very  erect,  in  proof  of  her  aristocratic  blood  ;  and  holding  in  her 
clasped  hands  a  red  cotton  pocket-handkerchief,  perhaps  a  parting  gift 
from  that  choice  spirit,  the  Major.  She  had  laid  aside  her  bonnet,  and 
now  appeared  in  a  highly  aristocratic  and  classical  cap,  meeting  beneath 
her  chin  :  a  style  of  head-dress  so  admirably  adapted  to  her  countenance, 
that  if  the  late  Mr.  Grimaldi  had  appeared  in  the  lappets  of  Mrs. 
Siddons,  a  more  complete  effect  could  not  have  been  produced. 

Martin  handed  her  to  a  chair.  Her  first  words  arrested  him  before 
he  could  get  back  to  his  own  seat. 

"  Pray,  sir  !"  said  Mrs.  Hominy,  "  where  do  you  hail  from  ?" 

"  I  am  afraid  I  am  dull  of  comprehension,"  answered  Martin,  "  being 
extremely  tired ;  but,  upon  my  word,  I  don't  understand  you." 

Mrs.  Hominy  shook  her  head  with  a  melancholy  smile  that  said,  not 
inexpressively,  "  They  corrupt  even  the  language  in  that  old  country  1" 
and  added  then,  as  coming  down  a  step  or  two  to  meet  his  low  capacity, 
"  Where  was  you  rose  ?" 

"  Oh  !"  said  Martin,  "  I  was  born  in  Kent." 

"  And  how  do  you  like  our  country,  sir  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Hominy. 

"  Very  much  indeed,"  said  Martin,  half  asleep.  "  At  least — that  is — 
pretty  well,  ma'am." 

"  Most  strangers — and  partick'larly  Britishers — are  much  surprised 
by  what  they  see  in  the  U-nited  States,"  remarked  Mrs.  Hominy. 

"  They  have  excellent  reason  to  be  so,  ma'am,"  said  Martin.  "  I  never 
was  so  much  surprised  in  all  my  life." 

"  Our  institutions  make  our  people  smart  much,  sir  1 "  Mrs.  Hominy 
remarked. 

"  The  most  short-sighted  man  could  see  that  at  a  glance,  with  his 
naked  eye,"  said  Martin. 

Mrs.  Hominy  was  a  philosopher  and  an  authoress,  and  consequently 
had  a  pretty  strong  digestion  ;  but  this  coarse,  this  indecorous  phrase, 
was  almost  too  much  for  her.  For  a  gentleman  sitting  alone  with  a 
lady — although  the  door  2cas  open — to  talk  about  a  naked  eye  ! 

A  long  interval  elapsed  before  even  she — woman  of  masculine  and 
towering  intellect  though  she  was — could  call  up  fortitude  enough  to 
resume  the  conversation.  But  Mrs.  Hominy  was  a  traveller.  Mrs.  Hominy 
was  a  writer  of  reviews  and  analytical  disquisitions.     Mrs.  Hominy  had 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  279 

had  her  letters  from  abroad,  beginning  "My  ever  dearest  blank,"  and 
signed  "  The  Mother  of  the  Modern  Gracchi"  (meaning  the  married 
Miss  Hominy),  regularly  printed  in  a  public  journal,  with  all  the  indig- 
nation in  capitals,  and  all  the  sarcasm  in  italics.  Mrs.  Hominy  had 
looked  on  foreign  countries  with  the  eye  of  a  perfect  republican  hot 
from  the  model  oven  ;  and  Mrs.  Hominy  could  talk  (or  write)  about 
them  by  the  hour  together.  So  Mrs.  Hominy  at  last  came  down  on 
Martin  heavily,  and  as  he  was  fast  asleep,  she  had  it  all  her  own  way 
and  bruised  him  to  her  heart's  content. 

It  is  no  great  matter  what  Mrs.  Hominy  said,  save  that  she  had  learnt  it 
from  the  cant  of  a  class,  and  a  large  class,  of  her  fellow-countrymen, 
who,  in  their  every  word,  avow  themselves  to  be  as  senseless  to  the 
high  principles  on  which  America  sprang,  a  nation,  into  life,  as  any 
Orson  in  her  legislative  halls.  Who  are  no  more  capable  of  feeling, 
or  of  caring  if  they  did  feel,  that  by  reducing  their  own  country  to  the 
ebb  of  honest  men's  contempt,  they  put  in  hazard  the  rights  of  nations 
yet  unborn,  and  very  progress  of  the  human  race,  than  are  the  swine 
who  wallow  in  their  streets.  Who  think  that  crying  out  to  other  nations, 
old  in  their  iniquity,  "  We  are  no  worse  than  you  !  "  (No  worse  !)  is 
high  defence  and  'vantage  ground  enough  for  that  Republic,  but  yes- 
terday let  loose  upon  her  noble  course,  and  but  to-day  so  maimed  and 
lame,  so  full  of  sores  and  ulcers,  foul  to  the  eye  and  almost  hopeless  to 
the  sense,  that  her  best  friends  turn  from  the  loathsome  creature  with 
disgust.  Who,  having  by  their  ancestors  declared  and  won  their  Inde- 
pendence, because  they  would  not  bend  the  knee  to  certain  Public 
vices  and  corruptions  and  would  not  abrogate  the  truth,  run  riot  in 
the  Bad,  and  turn  their  backs  upon  the  Good ;  and  lying  down 
contented  with  the  wretched  boast  that  other  Temples  also  are  of 
glass,  and  stones  which  batter  theirs  may  be  flung  back ;  show  them- 
selves, in  that  alone,  as  immeasurably  behind  the  import  of  the  trust 
they  hold,  and  as  unworthy  to  possess  it,  as  if  the  sordid  huckster- 
ings  of  all  their  little  governments — each  one  a  kingdom  in  its  small 
depravity — were  brought  into  a  heap  for  evidence  against  them. 

Martin  by  degrees  became  so  far  awake,  that  he  had  a  sense  of  a 
terrible  oppression  on  his  mind  ;  an  imperfect  dream  that  he  had 
murdered  a  particular  friend,  and  couldn't  get  rid  of  the  body.  When 
his  eyes  opened  it  was  staring  him  full  in  the  face.  There  was  the  hor- 
rible Hominy,  talking  deep  truths  in  a  melodious  snufile,  and  pouring 
forth  her  mental  endowments  to  such  an  extent  that  the  Major's  bitterest 
enemy,  hearing  her,  would  have  forgiven  him  from  the  bottom  of  his 
heart.  Martin  might  have  done  something  desperate  if  the  gong  had 
not  sounded  for  supper  ;  but  sound  it  did  most  opportunely  ;  and  having 
stationed  Mrs.  Hominy  at  the  upper  end  of  the  table,  he  took  refuge  at 
the  lower  end  himself ;  whence,  after  a  hasty  meal,  he  stole  away,  while 
the  lady  was  yet  busied  with  dried  beef  and  a  whole  saucer-full  of  pickled 
fixings. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  give  an  adequate  idea  of  Mrs.  Hominy's 
freshness  next  day,  or  of  the  avidity  with  which  she  went  headlong  into 
moral  philosophy  at  breakfast.  Some  little  additional  degree  of  asperity^ 


280  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

perhaps,  was  visible  in  her  features,  but  not  more  tlian  the  pickles  would 
have  naturally  produced.  All  that  day,  she  clung  to  Martin.  She 
sat  beside  him  while  he  received  his  friends — for  there  was  another 
Reception,  yet  more  numerous  than  the  former — propounded  theories, 
and  answered  imaginary  objections  :  so  that  Martin  really  began  to 
think  he  must  be  dreaming,  and  speaking  for  two  ;  quoted  interminable 
passages  from  certain  essays  on  government,  written  by  herself;  used  the 
Major's  pocket-handkerchief  as  if  the  snuffle  were  a  temporary  malady, 
of  which  she  was  determined  to  rid  herself  by  some  means  or  other  ; 
and,  in  short,  was  such  a  remarkable  companion,  that  Martin  quite 
settled  it  between  himself  and  his  conscience,  that  in  any  new  settlement 
it  would  be  absolutely  necessary  to  have  such  a  person  knocked  on  the 
head  for  the  general  peace  of  society. 

In  the  mean  time  Mark  was  busy,  from  early  in  the  morning  until 
late  at  night,  in  getting  on  board  the  steamboat  such  provisions,  tools, 
and  other  necessaries,  as  they  had  been  forewarned  it  would  be  wise  to 
take.  The  purchase  of  these  things,  and  the  settlement  of  their  bill  at 
the  National,  reduced  their  finances  to  so  low  an  ebb,  that  if  the  captain 
had  delayed  his  departure  any  longer,  they  would  have  been  in  almost 
as  bad  a  plight  as  the  unfortunate  poorer  emigrants,  who  (seduced  on 
board  by  solemn  advertisement)  had  been  living  on  the  lower  deck  a 
whole  week,  and  exhausting  their  miserable  stock  of  provisions  before 
the  voyage  commenced.  There  they  were,  all  huddled  together,  with 
the  engine  and  the  fires.  Farmers  who  had  never  seen  a  plough  ; 
woodmen  who  had  never  used  an  axe  ;  builders  who  couldn't  make  a  box ; 
cast  out  of  their  own  land,  with  not  a  hand  to  aid  them  :  newly  come 
into  an  unknown  world,  children  in  helplessness,  but  men  in  wants — with 
younger  children  at  their  backs,  to  live  or  die  as  it  might  happen  ! 

The  morning  came  ;  and  they  would  start  at  noon.  Noon  came,  and 
they  would  start  at  night.  But  nothing  is  eternal  in  this  world  :  not  even 
the  procrastination  of  an  American  skipper  :  and  at  night  all  was  ready. 

Dispirited  and  weary  to  the  last  degree,  but  a  greater  lion  than  ever 
(he  had  done  nothing  all  the  afternoon  but  answer  letters  from  strangers : 
half  of  them  about  nothing  :  half  about  borrowing  money  :  and  all 
requiring  an  instantaneous  reply),  Martin  walked  down  to  the  wharf, 
through  a  concourse  of  people,  with  Mrs.  Hominy  upon  his  arm  ;  and 
went  on  board.  But  Mark  was  bent  on  solving  the  riddle  of  this 
lionship,  if  he  could  ;  and  so,  not  without  the  risk  of  being  left  behind, 
ran  back  to  the  hotel. 

Captain  Kedgick  was  sitting  in  the  colonnade,  with  a  julep  on  his 
knee,  and  a  cigar  in  his  mouth.     He  caught  Mark's  eye,  and  said  : 

"  Why,  what  the  'Tarnal  brings  you  here  V 

"  I  '11  tell  you  plainly  what  it  is.  Captain,"  said  Mark.  "  I  want  to 
ask  you  a  question." 

"  A  man  may  ask  a  question,  so  he  may,"  returned  Kedgick : 
strongly  implying  that  another  man  might  not  answer  a  question,  so  he 
mightn't. 

"  Wliat  have  they  been  making  so  much  of  him  for,  now*?"  said 
Mark  slyly.     "Come!" 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  281 

"  Our  people  like  ex-citement,"  answered  Kedgick,  sucking  his  cigar. 

"  But  how  has  he  excited  'em  ?"  asked  Mark. 

The  captain  looked  at  him  as  if  he  were  half  inclined  to  unburden 
his  mind  of  a  capital  joke. 

"  You  air  a  going  ?"  he  said. 

"Going  !"  cried  Mark.     "Ain't  every  moment  precious  ?" 

"  Our  people  like  ex-citement,"  said  the  Captain,  whispering.  "  He 
ain't  like  emigrants  in  gin'ral  ;  and  he  ex-cited  'em  along  of  this  ;"  he 
winked  and  burst  into  a  smothered  laugh  ;  "along  of  this.  Scadder  is 
a  smart  man,  and — and — nobody  as  goes  to  Eden  ever  comes  back 
a-live  !" 

The  wharf  was  close  at  hand,  and  at  that  instant  Mark  could  hear 
them  shouting  out  his  name — could  even  hear  Martin  calling  to  him  to 
make  haste,  or  they  would  be  separated.  It  was  too  late  to  mend  the 
matter,  or  put  any  face  upon  it  but  the  best.  He  gave  the  Captain  a 
parting  benediction,  and  ran  off  like  a  racehorse. 

"Mark!  Mark  !"  cried  Martin. 

"  Here  am  I,  sir  !"  shouted  Mark,  suddenly  replying  from  the  edge  of 
the  quay,  and  leaping  at  a  bound  on  board.  "  Never  was  half  so  jolly, 
sir.     All  right !     Haul  in  !     Go  a-head  ! " 

The  sparks  from  the  wood  fire  streamed  upward  from  the  two  chim- 
neys, as  if  the  vessel  were  a  great  firework  just  lighted  ;  and  they 
roared  away  upon  the  dark  water. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

MARTIN    AND    HIS    PARTNER    TAKE    POSSESSION  OF    THEIR    ESTATE.       THE 
JOYFUL    OCCASION    INVOLVES    SOME    FURTHER    ACCOUNT    OF    EDEN. 

There  happened  to  be  on  board  the  steamboat  several  gentlemen 
passengers,  of  the  same  stamp  as  Martin's  New  York  friend  j\Ir.  Bevan  ; 
and  in  their  society  he  was  cheerful  and  happy.  They  released  him  as 
well  as  they  could  from  the  intellectual  entanglements  of  Mrs.  Hominy  ; 
and  exhibited,  in  all  they  said  and  did,  so  much  good  sense  and  high 
feeling,  that  he  could  not  like  them  too  well.  "  If  this  were  a  republic 
of  Intellect  and  Worth,"  he  said,  "  instead  of  vapouring  and  jobbing, 
they  would  not  want  the  levers  to  keep  it  in  motion." 

"  Having  good  tools,  and  using  bad  ones,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley, 
"would  look  as  if  they  was  rather  a  poor  sort  of  carpenters,  sir, 
wouldn't  it  r 

Martin  nodded,  "  As  if  their  work  were  infinitely  above  their  powers 
and  purpose,  Mark  ;  and  they  botched  it  in  consequence." 

"  The  best  on  it  is,"  said  Mark,  "  that  when  they  do  happen  to  make 
a  decent  stroke ;  such  as  better  workmen,  with  no  such  opportunities, 
make  every  day  of  their  lives  and  think  nothing  of ;  they  begin  to  sing 
out  so  surprising  loud.  Take  notice  of  my  words,  sir.  If  ever  the  default- 
ing part  of  this  here  country  pays  its  debts — along  of  finding  that  not 
paying  'em  won't  do  in  a  commercial  point  of  view,  you  see,  and  is  incon- 


282  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

venient  in  its  consequences — they  11  take  such  a  shine  out  of  it,  and 
make  such  bragging  speeches,  that  a  man  might  suppose  no  borrowed 
money  had  ,ever  been  paid  afore,  since  the  world  was  first  begun. 
That 's  the  way  they  gammon  each  other,  sir.  Bless  you,  /  know  'em. 
Take  notice  of  my  words,  now  !" 

"  You  seem  to  be  growing  profoundly  sagacious  !"  cried  Martin, 
laughing. 

"Whether  that  is,"  thought  Mark,  "because  I 'm  a  day's  journey 
nearer  Eden,  and  am  brightening  up,  afore  I  die,  I  can't  say.  P'raps  by 
the  time  I  get  there,  I  shall  have  growed  into  a  prophet." 

He  gave  no  utterance  to  these  sentiments  ;  but  the  excessive  joviality 
they  inspired  within  him,  and  the  merriment  they  brought  upon  his 
shining  face,  were  quite  enough  for  Martin.  Although  he  might  some- 
times profess  to  make  light  of  his  partner's  inexhaustible  cheerfulness, 
and  might  sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  Zephaniah  Scadder,  find  him  too 
jocose  a  commentator,  he  was  always  sensible  of  the  effect  of  his  example 
in  rousing  him  to  hopefulness  and  courage.  Whether  he  were  in  the 
humour  to  profit  by  it,  mattered  not  a  jot.  It  was  contagious,  and  he 
could  not  choose  but  be  afiected. 

At  first  they  parted  with  some  of  their  passengers  once  or  twice  a  day, 
and  took  in  others  to  replace  them.  But  by  degrees,  the  towns  upon  their 
route  became  more  thinly  scattered;  and  for  many  hours  together  they 
would  see  no  other  habitations  than  the  huts  of  the  wood-cutters,  where 
the  vessel  stopped  for  fuel.  Sky,  wood,  and  water,  all  the  livelong  day; 
and  heat  that  blistered  everything  it  touched. 

On  they  toiled  through  great  solitudes,  where  the  trees  upon  the  banks 
grew  thick  and  close  ;  and  floated  in  the  stream  ;  and  held  up  shrivelled 
arms  from  out  the  river's  depths  ;  and  slid  down  from  the  margin  of  the 
land  :  half  growing,  half  decaying,  in  the  miry  water.  On  through  the 
weary  day  and  melancholy  night :  beneath  the  burning  sun,  and  in  the 
mist  and  vapour  of  the  evening  :  on,  until  return  appeared  impossible, 
and  restoration  to  their  home  a  miserable  dream. 

They  had  now  but  few  people  on  board,  and  these  few  were  as  flat,  as 
dull,  and  stagnant,  as  the  vegetation  that  oppressed  their  eyes.  No 
sound  of  cheerfulness  or  hope  was  heard  ;  no  pleasant  talk  beguiled  the 
tardy  time ;  no  little  group  made  common  cause  against  the  dull  depres- 
sion of  the  scene.  But  that,  at  certain  periods,  they  swallowed  food 
together  from  a  common  trough,  it  might  have  been  old  Charon's  boat,, 
conveying  melancholy  shades  to  judgment. 

At  length  they  drew  near  New  Thermopylae ;  where,  that  same  evening, 
Mrs.  Hominy  would  disembark.  A  gleam  of  comfort  sunk  into  Martin's 
bosom  when  she  told  him  this.  Mark  needed  none ;  but  he  was  not 
displeased. 

It  was  almost  night  when  they  came  alongside  the  landing-place — a 
steep  bank  with  an  hotel,  like  a  barn,  on  the  top  of  it ;  a  wooden  store 
or  two  ;  and  a  few  scattered  sheds. 

"  You  sleep  here  to-night,  and  go  on  in  the  morning,  I  suppose, 
ma'am  1 "  said  Martin. 

"  Where  should  I  go  on  to?"  cried  the  mother  of  the  modern  Gracchi* 

"  To  New  Thermopylae." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  283 

"  My  !  ain't  I  tliere  ?"  said  Mrs.  Hominy. 

Martin  looked  for  it  all  round  the  darkening  panorama;  but  lie 
couldn't  see  it,  and  was  obliged  to  say  so. 

"Why,  that 'sit!"  cried  Mrs.  Ilominy,  pointing  to  the  sheds  just 
mentioned. 

"  That .'"  exclaimed  ^lartin. 

"  Ah  !  that ;  and  work  it  which  way  you  will,  it  whips  Eden,"  said 
Mrs.  Hominy,  nodding  her  head  with  great  expression. 

The  married  Miss  Hominy,  who  had  come  on  board  with  her  hus- 
band, gave  to  this  statement  her  most  unqualified  support,  as  did  that 
gentleman  also.  Martin  gratefully  declined  their  invitation  to  regale 
himself  at  their  house  during  the  half-hour  of  the  vessel's  stay  ;  and 
having  escorted  Mrs.  Hominy  and  the  red  pocket-handkerchief  (which 
was  still  on  active  service)  safely  across  the  gangway,  returned  in  a 
thoughtful  mood  to  watch  the  emigrants  as  they  removed  their  goods 
ashore. 

Mark,  as  he  stood  beside  him,  glanced  in  his  face  from  time  to  time ; 
anxious  to  discover  what  effect  this  dialogue  had  had  upon  him,  and 
not  unwilling  that  his  hopes  should  be  dashed  before  they  reached  their 
destination,  so  that  the  blow  he  feared,  might  be  broken  in  its  fall. 
But  saving  that  he  sometimes  looked  up  quickly  at  the  poor  erections 
on  the  hill,  he  gave  him  no  clue  to  what  was  passing  in  his  mind,  until 
they  were  again  upon  their  way. 

"  Mark,"  he  said  then,  "  are  there  really  none  but  ourselves  on  board 
this  boat  who  are  bound  for  Eden  ?" 

"  None  at  all,  sir.  Most  of  'em,  as  you  know,  have  stopped  short ; 
and  the  few  that  are  left  are  going  further  on.  What  matters  that  ! 
More  room  there  for  us,  sir." 

"  Oh,  to  be  sure  !"  said  Martin.  "  But  I  was  thinking" — and  there 
he  paused. 

"  Yes,  sir  V  observed  Mark. 

"  How  odd  it  was  that  the  people  should  have  arranged  to  try  their 
fortune  at  a  wretched  hole  like  that,  for  instance,  when  there  is  such  a 
much  better,  and  such  a  very  different  kind  of  place,  near  at  hand,  as 
one  may  say." 

He  spoke  in  a  tone  so  very  different  from  his  usual  confidence,  and 
with  such  an  obvious  dread  of  Mark's  reply,  that  the  good-natured 
fellow  was  full  of  pity. 

"  Why,  you  know,  sir,"  said  Mark,  as  gently  as  he  could  by  any 
means  insinuate  the  observation,  "we  must  guard  against  being  too 
sanguine.  There  's  no  occasion  for  it,  either,  because  we  're  determined 
to  make  the  best  of  everything,  after  we  know  the  worst  of  it.  Ain't  we, 
sirr' 

Martin  looked  at  him,  but  answered  not  a  word. 

"  Even  Eden,  you  know,  ain't  all  built,"  said  Mark. 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven,  man,"  cried  Martin  angrily,  "  don't  talk  of 
Eden  in  the  same  breath  with  that  place.  Are  you  mad  1  There — 
God  forgive  me  ! — don't  think  harshly  of  me  for  my  temper  ! " 

After  that,  he  turned  away,  and  walked  to  and  fro  upon  the  deck  full 
two  hours.     Nor  did  he  speak  again,   except  to  say  "  Good   night," 


284  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

until  next  daj ;  nor  even  then  upon  this  subject,   but  on  other  topics 
quite  foreign  to  the  purpose. 

As  they  proceeded  further  on  their  track,  and  came  more  and  more 
towards  their  journey's  end,  the  monotonous  desolation  of  the  scene  in- 
creased to  that  degree,  that  for  any  redeeming  feature  it  presented  to  their 
eyes,  they  might  have  entered,  in  the  body,  on  the  grim  domains  of  Giant 
Despair.  A  flat  morass,  bestrewn  with  fallen  timber  ;  a  marsh  on  which 
the  good  growth  of  the  earth  seemed  to  have  been  wrecked  and  cast 
away,  that  from  its  decomposing  ashes  vile  and  ugly  things  might  rise ; 
where  the  very  trees  took  the  aspect  of  huge  weeds,  begotten  of  the  slime 
from  which  they  sprung,  by  the  hot  sun  that  burnt  them  up  ;  where 
fatal  maladies,  seeking  whom  they  might  infect,  came  forth,  at  night, 
in  misty  shapes,  and  creeping  out  upon  the  water,  hunted  them  like 
spectres  until  day  ;  where  even  the  blessed  sun,  shining  down  on  fester- 
ing elements  of  corruption  and  disease,  became  a  horror ;  this  was  the 
realm  of  Hope  through  which  they  moved. 

At  last  they  stopped.  At  Eden  too.  The  waters  of  the  Deluge 
might  have  left  it  but  a  week  before  :  so  choked  with  slime  and  matted 
growth  was  the  hideous  swamp  which  bore  that  name. 

There  being  no  depth  of  water  close  in  shore,  they  landed  from  the 
vessel's  boat,  with  all  their  goods  beside  them.  There  were  a  few  log- 
houses  visible  among  the  dark  trees  ;  the  best,  a  cow-shed  or  a  rude 
stable  j  but  for  the  wharves,  the  market-place,  the  public  buildings — 

"  Here  comes  an  Edener,"  said  Mark.  "  He'll  get  us  help  to  carry 
these  things  up.     Keep  a  good  heart,  sir.    Hallo  there  !  " 

The  man  advanced  towards  them  through  the  thickening  gloom,  very 
slowly  :  leaning  on  a  stick.  As  he  drew  nearer,  they  observed  that  he 
was  pale  and  worn,  and  that  his  anxious  eyes  were  deeply  sunken  in  his 
head.  His  dress  of  homespun  blue  hung  about  him  in  rags  ;  his  feet 
and  head  were  bare.  He  sat  down  on  a  stump  half-way,  and  beckoned 
them  to  come  to  him.  When  they  complied,  he  put  his  hand  upon  his 
side  as  if  in  pain,  and  while  he  fetched  his  breath  stared  at  them, 
wondering. 

"  Strangers  !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he  could  speak. 

"  The  very  same,"  said  Mark.     "  Hoav  are  you,  sir? " 

"  I've  had  the  fever  very  bad,"  he  answered  faintly.  "  I  haven't  stood 
upright  these  many  weeks.  Those  are  your  notions  I  see,"  pointing  to 
their  property. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Mark,  "  they  are.  You  couldn't  recommend  us  some 
one  as  would  lend  a  hand  to  help  carry  'em  up  to  the — to  the  town, 
could  you,  sir  ?  " 

"  My  eldest  son  would  do  it  if  he  could,"  replied  the  man  ;  "  but  to- 
day he  has  his  chill  upon  him,  and  is  lying  wrapped  up  in  the  blankets. 
My  youngest  died  last  week." 

"  I'm  sorry  for  it,  governor,  with  all  my  heart,"  said  Mark,  shaking 
him  by  the  hand.  "  Don't  mind  us.  Come  along  with  me, and  I'll  give  you 
an  arm  back.  The  goods  is  safe  enough,  sir," — to  Martin, — "  there  ain't 
many  people  about,  to  make  away  with  'em.    What  a  comfort  that  is  ! " 

"  No,"  cried  the  man.  "  You  must  look  for  such  folk  here,"  knocking 
his  stick  upon  the  ground,  "  or  yonder  in  the  bush,  towards  the  north. 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  285 

We've  buried  most  of  'em.      The  rest  have  gone  away.     Them  that  we 
have  here,  don't  come  out  at  night." 

"  The  night  air  ain't  quite  wholesome,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Mark. 
''  It 's  deadly  poison,"  was  the  settler's  answer. 

Mark  showed  no  more  uneasiness  than  if  it  had  been  commended  to 
him  as  ambrosia  ;  but  he  gave  the  man  his  arm,  and  as  they  went  along 
explained  to  him  the  nature  of  their  purchase,  and  inquired  where  it  lay. 
Close  to  his  own  log-house,  he  said:  so  close  that  he  had  used  their 
dwelling  as  a  store-house  for  some  corn  :  they  must  excuse  it  that  night, 
but  he  would  endeavour  to  get  it  taken  out  upon  the  morrow.  He  then 
gave  them  to  understand,  as  an  additional  scrap  of  local  chit-chat,  that 
he  had  buried  the  last  proprietor  with  his  own  hands  ;  a  piece  of  infor- 
mation which  Mark  also  received  without  the  least  abatement  of  his 
equanimity. 

In  a  word,  he  conducted  them  to  a  miserable  cabin,  rudely  constructed 
of  the  trunks  of  trees  ;  the  door  of  which  had  either  fallen  down  or  been 
carried  away  long  ago  ;  and  which  was  consequently  open  to  the  wild 
landscape  and  the  dark  night.  Saving  for  the  little  store  he  had 
mentioned,  it  was  perfectly  bare  of  all  furniture  j  but  they  had  left  a 
chest  upon  the  landing-place,  and  he  gave  them  a  rude  torch  in  lieu 
of  candle.  This  latter  acquisition  Mark  planted  in  the  hearth,  and 
then  declaring  that  the  mansion  "  looked  quite  comfortable,"  hurried 
Martin  off  again  to  help  bring  up  the  chest.  And  all  the  way  to  the 
landing-place  and  back,  Mark  talked  incessantly  :  as  if  he  would  infuse 
into  his  partner's  breast  some  faint  belief  that  they  had  arrived  under 
the  most  auspicious  and  cheerful  of  all  imaginable  circumstances. 

But  many  a  man  who  would  have  stood  within  a  home  dismantled, 
strong  in  his  passion  and  design  of  vengeance,  has  had  the  firmness  of 
his  nature  conquered  by  the  razing  of  an  air-built  castle.  When  the  log- 
hut  received  them  for  the  second  time,  Martin  lay  down  upon  the  ground, 
and  wept  aloud. 

"  Lord  love  you,  sir!"  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  in  great  terror;  "  don't  do  that! 
Don't  do  that,  sir  !  Anything  but  that  !  It  never  helped  man,  woman, 
or  child  over  the  lowest  fence  yet,  sir,  and  it  never  will.  Besides  its  being 
of  no  use  to  you,  it's  worse  than  of  no  use  to  me,  for  the  least  sound  of  it 
will  knock  me  flat  down.  I  can't  stand  up  agin  it,  sir.  Anything  but  that." 

There  is  no  doubt  he  spoke  the  truth,  for  the  extraordinary  alarm 
with  which  he  looked  at  Martin  as  he  paused  upon  his  knees  before 
the  chest,  in  the  act  of  unlocking  it,  to  say  these  words,  sufficiently  con- 
firmed him. 

"  I  ask  your  forgiveness  a  thousand  times,  my  dear  fellow,"  said 
Martin.     "  I  couldn't  have  helped  it,  if  death  had  been  the  penalty." 

'•  Ask  my  forgiveness  !"  said  Mark,  with  his  accustomed  cheerfulness  ; 
as  he  proceeded  to  unpack  the  chest.  "  The  head  partner  a  asking  for- 
giveness of  Co.,  eh  ?  There  must  be  something  wrong  in  the  firm  when 
that  happens.  I  must  have  the  books  inspected,  and  the  accounts  gone 
over  immediate.  Here  we  are.  Everything  in  its  proper  place. 
Here's  the  salt  pork.  Here's  the  biscuit.  Here's  the  whiskey — uncommon 
good  it  smells  too.  Here's  the  tin  pot.  This  tin  pot's  a  small  fortun  in 
itself !     Here's  the  blankets.     Here's  the  axe.     Who  says  we  ain't  got 


286  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

a  first-rate  fit  out  1  I  feel  as  if  I  was  a  cadet  gone  out  to  Indy,  and  my 
noble  father  was  chairman  of  the  Board  of  Directors.  Now,  when  I  've 
got  some  water  from  the  stream  afore  the  door  and  mixed  the  grog," 
cried  Mark,  running  out  to  suit  the  action  to  the  word,  "  there 's  a  supper 
ready,  comprising  every  delicacy  of  the  season.  Here  we  are,  sir,  all 
complete.  For  what  we  are  going  to  receive,  et  cetrer.  Lord  bless  you, 
sir,  it's  very  like  a  gipsy  party  !" 

It  was  impossible  not  to  take  heart,  in  the  company  of  such  a  man  as 
this.  Martin  sat  upon  the  ground  beside  the  box  ;  took  out  his  knife  ; 
and  ate  and  drank  sturdily. 

"  Now  you  see,"  said  Mark,  when  they  had  made  a  hearty  meal ; 
^'  with  your  knife  and  mine,  I  sticks  this  blanket  right  afore  the  door,  or 
where,  in  a  state  of  high  civilisation,  the  door  would  be.  And  very  neat 
it  looks.  Then  I  stops  the  aperture  below,  by  putting  the  chest  agin  it. 
And  very  neat  that  looks.  Then  there 's  your  blanket,  sir.  Then  here  's 
mine.     And  what's  to  hinder  our  passing  a  good  night?" 

For  all  his  light-hearted  speaking,  it  was  long  before  he  slept  himself. 
He  wrapped  his  blanket  round  him,  put  the  axe  ready  to  his  hand,  and 
lay  across  the  threshold  of  the  door :  too  anxious  and  too  watchful  to 
close  his  eyes.  The  novelty  of  their  dreary  situation,  the  dread  of  some 
rapacious  animal  or  human  enemy,  the  terrible  uncertainty  of  their  means 
of  subsistence,  the  apprehension  of  death,  the  immense  distance  and  the 
hosts  of  obstacles  between  themselves  and  England,  were  fruitful  sources 
of  disquiet  in  the  deep  silence  of  the  night.  Though  Martin  would  have 
had  him  think  otherwise,  Mark  felt  that  he  was  waking  also,  and  a  prey 
to  the  same  reflections.  This  was  almost  worse  than  all,  for  if  he  began 
to  brood  over  their  miseries  instead  of  trying  to  make  head  against  them, 
there  could  be  little  doubt  that  such  a  state  of  mind  would  powerfully 
assist  the  influence  of  the  pestilent  climate.  Never  had  the  light  of 
day  been  half  so  welcome  to  his  eyes,  as  when  awaking  from  a  fitful  doze, 
Mark  saw  it  shining  through  the  blanket  in  the  doorway. 

He  stole  out  gently,  for  his  companion  was  sleeping  now  ;  and  having 
refreshed  himself  by  washing  in  the  river,  where  it  flowed  before  the  door, 
took  a  rough  survey  of  the  settlement.  There  were  not  above  a  score  of 
cabins  in  the  whole ;  half  of  these  appeared  untenanted ;  all  were  rotten 
and  decayed.  The  most  tottering,  abject,  and  forlorn  among  them,  was 
called,  with  great  propriety,  the  Bank,  and  National  Credit  Oflice.  It 
had  some  feeble  props  about  it,  but  was  settling  deep  down  in  the  mud, 
past  all  recovery. 

Here  and  there,  an  effurt  had  been  made  to  clear  the  land;  and  some- 
thing like  a  field  had  been  marked  out,  where,  among  the  stumps  and 
ashes  of  burnt  trees,  a  scanty  crop  of  Indian  corn  was  growing.  In  some 
quarters,  a  snake  or  zigzag  fence  had  been  begun,  but  in  no  instance  had 
it  been  completed;  and  the  fallen  logs,  half  hidden  in  the  soil,  lay 
mouldering  away.  Three  or  four  meagre  dogs,  wasted  and  vexed  with 
hunger ;  some  long-legged  pigs,  wandering  away  into  the  woods  in  search 
of  food ;  some  children,  nearly  naked,  gazing  at  him  from  the  huts ; 
were  all  the  living  things  he  saw.  A  fetid  vapour,  hot  and  sickening 
as  the  breath  of  an  oven,  rose  up  from  the  earth,  and  hung  on  every- 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  287 

thing  around ;   and  as  his  foot-prints  sunk  into  the  marshy  ground,  a 
black  ooze  started  forth  to  blot  them  out. 

Their  own  land  was  mere  forest.  The  trees  had  grown  so  thick  and 
'Olose  that  they  shouldered  one  another  out  of  their  places,  and  the 
weakest,  forced  into  shapes  of  strange  distortion,  languished  like  cripples. 
The  best  were  stunted,  from  the  pressure  and  the  want  of  room ;  and  high 
about  the  stems  of  all,  grew  long  rank  grass,  dank  weeds,  and  frowzy 
underwood  :  not  divisible  into  their  separate  kinds,  but  tangled  all  to- 
gether in  a  heap  ;  a  jungle  deep  and  dark,  with  neither  earth  nor  water 
at  its  roots,  but  putrid  matter,  formed  of  the  pulpy  offal  of  the  two,  and 
of  their  own  corruption. 

He  went  down  to  the  landing-place  where  they  had  left  their  goods 
last  night ;  and  there  he  found  some  half-dozen  men — wan,  and  forlorn 
to  look  at,  but  ready  enough  to  assist — who  helped  him  to  carry  them 
to  the  log-house.  They  shook  their  heads  in  speaking  of  the  settlement, 
and  had  no  comfort  to  give  him.  Those  who  had  the  means  of  going 
away,  had  all  deserted  it.  They  who  were  left,  had  lost  their  wives, 
their  children,  friends,  or  brothers  there,  and  suffered  much  themselves. 
Most  of  them  were  ill  then  ;  none  were  the  men  they  had  been  once. 
They  frankly  offered  their  assistance  and  advice,  and,  leaving  him  for 
that  time,  went  sadly  off  upon  their  several  tasks. 

Martin  was  by  this  time  stirring  ;  but  he  had  greatly  changed,  even 
in  one  night.  He  was  very  pale  and  languid  ;  he  spoke  of  pains  and 
weakness  in  his  limbs,  and  complained  that  his  sight  was  dim,  and  his 
voice  feeble.  Increasing  in  his  own  briskness  as  the  prospect  grew  more  and 
more  dismal,  Mark  brought  away  a  door  from  one  of  the  deserted  houses, 
and  fitted  it  to  their  own  habitation  ;  then  went  back  again  for  a  rude 
bench  he  had  observed,  with  which  he  presently  returned  in  triumph  ; 
and  having  put  this  piece  of  furniture  outside  the  house,  arranged  the 
notable  tin-pot  and  other  such  movables  upon  it,  that  it  might  repre- 
sent a  dresser  or  a  sideboard.  Greatly  satisfied  with  this  arrangement, 
he  next  rolled  their  cask  of  flour  into  the  house,  and  set  it  up  on  end  in 
one  corner,  where  it  served  for  a  side-table.  No  better  dinins:-table 
could  be  required  than  the  chest,  which  he  solemnly  devoted  to  that 
useful  service  thenceforth.  Their  blankets,  clothes,  and  the  like, 
he  hung  on  pegs  and  nails.  And  lastly,  he  brought  forth  a  great 
placard  (which  Martin  in  the  exultation  of  his  heart  had  prepared 
with  his  own  hands  at  the  National  Hotel),  bearing  the  inscrip- 
tion, Chuzzlewit  &  Co.,  Architects  and  Surveyors,  which  he  dis- 
played upon  the  most  conspicuous  part  of  the  premises,  with  as  much 
gravity  as  if  the  thriving  city  of  Eden  had  had  a  real  existence,  and 
they  expected  to  be  overwhelmed  with  business. 

"  These  here  tools,"  said  Mark,  bringing  forward  Martin's  case  ot 
instruments,  and  sticking  the  compasses  upright  in  a  stump  before  the 
door,  "  shall  be  set  out  in  the  open  air  to  show  that  we  come  provided. 
And  now,  if  any  gentleman  wants  a  house  built,  he'd  better  give  his 
orders,  afore  we're  other  ways  bespoke." 

Considering  the  intense  heat  of  the  weather,  this  was  not  a  bad 
morning's  work  ;  but  without  pausing  for  a  moment,  though  he  was 
streaming  at  every  pore,  Mark  vanished  into  the  house   again,  and 


288  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

presently  reappeared  witli  a  hatchet :  intent  on  performing  some  im- 
possibilities with  that  implement. 

"  Here  's  a  ugly  old  tree  in  the  way,  sir,"  he  observed,  "  which  '11  be 
all  the  better  down.  We  can  build  the  oven  in  the  afternoon.  There 
never  was  such  a  handy  spot  for  clay  as  Eden  is.  That's  convenient, 
anyhow." 

But  Martin  gave  him  no  answer.  He  had  sat  the  whole  time  with 
his  head  upon  his  hands,  gazing  at  the  current  as  it  rolled  swiftly  by  ; 
thinking,  perhaps,  how  fast  it  moved  towards  the  open  sea,  the  high, 
road  to  the  home  he  never  would  behold  a2;ain. 

Not  even  the  vigorous  strokes  which  Mark  dealt  at  the  tree,  awoke 
him  from  his  mournful  meditation.  Finding  all  his  endeavours  to  rouse 
him  of  no  use,  Mark  stopped  in  his  work  and  came  towards  him. 

"  Don't  give  in,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  Oh,  Mark,"  returned  his  friend,  "  what  have  I  done  in  all  my  life 
that  has  deserved  this  heavy  fate  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,"  returned  Mark,  "  for  the  matter  of  that,  ev'rybody  as 
is  here  might  say  the  same  thing ;  many  of  'em  with  better  reason 
p'raps  than  you  or  me.  Hold  up,  sir.  Do  something.  Couldn't  you 
ease  your  mind,  now,  don't  you  think,  by  making  some  personal  obser- 
wations  in  a  letter  to  Scadder  ? " 

"  No,"  said  Martin,  shaking  his  head  sorrowfully  :  "  I  am  past  that." 

"  But  if  you  're  past  that  already,"  returned  Mark,  "  you  must  be  ill 
and  ought  to  be  attended  to." 

"  Don't  mind  me,"  said  Martin.  "  Do  the  best  you  can  for  yourself. 
You  '11  soon  have  only  yourself  to  consider.  And  then  God  speed  you 
home,  and  forgive  me  for  bringing  you  here  !  I  am  destined  to  die 
in  this  place.  I  felt  it  the  instant  I  set  foot  upon  the  shore.  Sleeping 
or  waking,  Mark,  I  dreamed  it  all  last  night." 

"  I  said  you  must  be  ill,"  returned  Mark,  tenderly,  "  and  now  I'm 
sure  of  it.  A  touch  of  fever  and  ague  caught  on  these  rivers,  I  dare 
say  ;  but  bless  you,  that 's  nothing.  It 's  only  a  seasoning ;  and  we 
must  all  be  seasoned,  one  way  or  another.  That 's  religion,  that  is,  you 
know,"  said  Mark. 

He  only  sighed  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Wait  half  a  minute,"  said  Mark  cheerily,  "  till  I  run  up  to  one  of 
our  neighbours  and  ask  what 's  best  to  be  took,  and  borrow  a  little  of 
it  to  give  you  ;  and  to-morrow  you  '11  find  yourself  as  strong  as  ever 
again.  I  won't  be  gone  a  minute.  Don't  give  in,  while  I  'm  away, 
whatever  you  do  !" 

Throwing  down  his  hatchet,  he  sped  away  immediately,  but  stopped 
when  he  had  gone  a  little  distance,  and  looked  back  :  then  hurried  on 
again. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Tapley,"  said  Mark,  giving  himself  a  tremendous  blow  in 
the  chest  by  way  of  reviver,  "just  you  attend  to  what  I  Ve  got  to  say. 
Things  is  looking  about  as  bad  as  they  can  look,  young  man.  You  '11 
not  have  such  another  opportunity  for  showing  your  jolly  disposition, 
my  fine  fellow,  as  long  as  you  live.  And  therefore,  Tapley,  Now 's  your 
time  to  come  out  strong ;  or  Never  !" 


^..y^Ae/,^'u/i/i/pta.  ^{/^  (:^  (Oa^'Pt',  a^  ^  ci/^ea/i€^y6^'n^  /ac-c  . 


I 


MAETIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  289 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

EEPORTS    PROGRESS    IN    CERTAIN    HOMELY    MATTERS    OF    LOVE,    HATRED, 
JEALOUSY,    AND    REVENGE. 

"Hallo,  Pecksniff!"  cried  Mr.  Jonas  from  the  parlour.  "Isn't 
somebody  a  going  to  open  that  precious  old  door  of  yours?" 

"Immediately,  Mr.  Jonas.     Immediately." 

"  Ecod,"  muttered  the  orphan,  "  not  before  it 's  time  neither.  Whoever 
it  is,  has  knocked  three  times,  and  each  one  loud  enough  to  wake  the — " 
he  had  such  a  repugnance  to  the  idea  of  waking  the  Dead,  that  he 
stopped  even  then  with  the  words  upon  his  tongue,  and  said,  instead, 
"  the  Seven  Sleepers." 

"  Immediately, Mr.  Jonas ;  immediately,"  repeated  Pecksniff.  "Thomas 
Pinch" — he  couldn't  make  up  his  mind,  in  his  great  agitation,  whether 
to  call  Tom  his  dear  friend  or  a  villain,  so  he  shook  his  fist  at  him  jpro 
tern. — "  go  up  to  my  daughter's  room,  and  tell  them  who  is  here.  Say, 
Silence.     Silence  !     Do  you  hear  me,  sir?" 

"Directly,  sir  !"  cried  Tom,  departing,  in  a  state  of  much  amazement, 
on  his  errand. 

"  You  '11 — ha  ha  ha ! — you  '11  excuse  me,  Mr.  Jonas,  if  I  close  this  door 
a  moment,  will  you  ?"  said  Pecksniff.  "  This  may  be  a  professional  call. 
Indeed  I  am  pretty  sure  it  is.  Thank  you."  Then  Mr.  Pecksniff,  gently 
warbling  a  rustic  stave,  put  on  his  garden  hat,  seized  a  spade,  and  opened 
the  street-door  :  calmly  appearing  on  the  threshold,  as  if  he  thought,  he 
had,  from  his  vineyard,  heard  a  modest  rap,  but  was  not  quite  certain. 

Seeing  a  gentleman  and  lady  before  him,  he  started  back  in  as  much 
confusion  as  a  good  man  with  a  crystal  conscience  might  betray  in  mere 
surprise.     Recognition  came  upon  him  the  next  moment,  and  he  cried  : 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlevvit !  Can  I  believe  my  eyes  !  My  dear  sir  ;  my  good  sir  ! 
A  joyful  hour  ;  a  happy  hour  indeed.  Pray,  my  dear  sir,  walk  in.  You 
find  me  in  my  garden-dress.  You  will  excuse  it,  I  know.  It  is  an  ancient 
pursuit,  gardening.  Primitive,  my  dear  sir  ;  for,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
Adam  was  the  first  of  our  calling.  My  Eve,  I  grieve  to  say,  is  no  more,  sir; 
but" — here  he  pointed  to  his  spade,  and  shook  his  head,  as  if  he  were 
not  cheerful  without  an  effort — "  but  I  do  a  little  bit  of  Adam  still." 

He  had  by  this  time  got  them  into  the  best  parlour,  where  the  portrait 
by  Spiller,  and  the  bust  by  Spoker,  were. 

"My  daughters,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "will  be  overjoyed.  If  I  could 
feel  weary  upon  such  a  theme,  I  should  have  been  worn  out  long  ago, 
my  dear  sir,  by  their  constant  anticipation  of  this  happiness,  and  their 
repeated  allusions  to  our  meeting  at  Mrs.  Todgers's.  Their  fair  young 
friend,  too,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  whom  they  so  desire  to  know  and  love 
— indeed  to  know  her,  i&  to  love — I  hope  I  see  her  well.  I  hope  in 
saying,  'Welcome  to  my  humble  roof!'  I  find  some  echo  in  her  own 
sentiments.  If  features  are  an  index  to  the  heart,  I  have  no  fears  of 
that.  An  extremely  engaging  expression  of  countenance,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit- 
my  dear  sir — very  much  so  !" 

u 


290  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

"  Mary,"  said  tlie  old  man,  "  Mr.  Pecksniff  flatters  you.  But  flattery 
from  him  is  worth  the  having.  He  is  not  a  dealer  in  it,  and  it  comes 
from  his  heart.     We  thought  Mr. " 

"  Pinch,"  said  Mary. 

"  Mr.  Pinch  would  have  arrived  before  us,  Pecksniff." 

"  He  did  arrive  before  you,  my  dear  sir,"  retorted  Pecksnifl",  raising 
his  voice  for  the  edification  of  Tom  upon  the  stairs,  "  and  was  about,  I 
dare  say,  to  tell  me  of  your  coming,  when  I  begged  him  first  to  knock  at 
my  daughters'  chamber,  and  inquire  after  Charity,  my  dear  child,  who 
is  not  so  well  as  I  could  wish.  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  answering  their 
looks,  "  I  am  sorry  to  say,  she  is  not.  It  is  merely  an  hysterical  affec- 
tion ;  nothing  more.  I  am  not  uneasy.  Mr.  Pinch  !  Thomas !"  ex- 
claimed Pecksniff,  in  his  kindest  accents.  "  Pray  come  in.  I  shall  make 
no  stranger  of  you.  Thomas  is  a  friend  of  mine  of  rather  long-standing, 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  you  must  know." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Tom.  "  You  introduce  me  very  kindly,  and 
speak  of  me  in  terms  of  which  I  am  very  proud." 

"  Old  Thomas  ! "  cried  his  master,  pleasantly,  "  God  bless  you  ! " 

Tom  reported  that  the  young  ladies  would  appear  directly,  and 
that  the  best  refreshments  which  the  house  afforded  were  even  then  in 
preparation,  under  their  joint  superintendence.  While  he  was  speaking, 
the  old  man  looked  at  him  intently,  though  with  less  harshness  than 
was  common  to  him  ;  nor  did  the  mutual  embarrassment  of  Tom  and 
the  young  lady,  to  whatever  cause  he  attributed  it,  seem  to  escape  his 
observation. 

"  Pecksniff,"  he  said  after  a  pause,  rising  and  taking  him  aside 
towards  the  window,  "  I  was  much  shocked  on  hearing  of  my  brother's 
death.  We  had  been  strangers  for  many  years.  My  only  comfort  is, 
that  he  must  have  lived  the  happier  and  better  man  for  having  asso- 
ciated no  hopes  or  schemes  with  me.  Peace  to  his  memory  !  We  were 
playfellows  once  ;  and  it  would  have  been  better  for  us  both  if  we  had 
died  then." 

Finding  him  in  this  gentle  mood,  Mr.  Pecksniff  began  to  see  another 
way  out  of  his  difficulties,  besides  the  casting  overboard  of  Jonas. 

"  That  any  man,  my  dear  sir,  could  possibly  be  the  happier  for  not 
knowing  you,"  he  returned,  "  you  will  excuse  my  doubting.  But  that 
Mr.  Anthony,  in  the  evening  of  his  life,  was  happy  in  the  affection  of 
his  excellent  son — a  pattern,  my  dear  sir,  a  pattern  to  all  sons — and  in 
the  care  of  a  distant  relation,  who,  however  lowly  in  his  means  of  serving 
him,  had  no  bounds  to  his  inclination  ;  I  can  inform  you." 

'•  How 's  this  1 "  said  the  old  man.     "  You  are  not  a  legatee  1 " 

"  You  don't,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  melancholy  pressure  of  his 
hand,  "  quite  understand  my  nature  yet,  I  find.  No,  sir,  I  am  not  a 
legatee.  I  am  proud  to  say  I  am  not  a  legatee.  I  am  proud  to  say 
that  neither  of  my  children  is  a  legatee.  And  yet,  sir,  I  was  with  him 
at  his  own  request.  He  understood  me  somewhat  better,  sir.  He  wrote 
and  said,  *I  am  sick.  I  am  sinking.  Come  to  me  !'  I  went  to  him. 
I  sat  beside  his  bed,  sir,  and  I  stood  beside  his  grave.  Yes,  at  the  risk 
cf  offending  even  ?/ou,  I  did  it,  sir.     Though  the  avowal  should  lead  to 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  291 

our  instant  separation,  and  to  the  severing  of  those  tender  ties  between 
us  which  have  recently  been  formed,  I  make  it.  But  I  am  not  a 
legatee,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  smiling  dispassionately ;  "  and  I  never 
expected  to  be  a  legatee.     I  knew  better  !  " 

"  His  son  a  pattern  !  "  cried  old  Martin.  "  How  can  you  tell  me 
that  ?  My  brother  had  in  his  wealth  the  usual  doom  of  wealth,  and 
root  of  misery.  He  carried  his  corrupting  influence  with  him,  go 
where  he  would ;  and  shed  it  round  him,  even  on  his  hearth.  It  made 
of  his  own  child  a  greedy  expectant,  who  measured  every  day  and  hour 
the  lessening  distance  between  his  father  and  the  grave,  and  cursed 
his  tardy  progress  on  that  dismal  road." 

"  No  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  boldly.      "  Not  at  all,  sir  !  " 

"  But  I  saw  that  shadow  in  his  house,"  said  Martin  Chuzzlewit,  "  the 
last  time  we  met,  and  warned  him  of  its  presence.  I  know  it  when  I 
see  it,  do  I  not  1     I,  who  have  lived  within  it  all  these  years  !  " 

"  I  deny  it,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  answered,  warmly.  "  I  deny  it  altogether. 
That  bereaved  young  man  is  now  in  this  house,  sir,  seeking  in  change 
of  scene  the  peace  of  mind  he  has  lost.  Shall  I  be  backward  in 
doing  justice  to  that  young  man,  when  even  undertakers  and  cofhn- 
makers  have  been  moved  by  the  conduct  he  has  exhibited  ;  when  even 
mutes  have  spoken  in  his  praise,  and  the  medical  man  hasn't  known 
what  to  do  with  himself  in  the  excitement  of  his  feelings  !  There  is  a 
person  of  the  name  of  Gamp,  sir — Mrs.  Gamp — ask  her.  She  saw  Mr. 
Jonas  in  a  trying  time.  Ask  ker,  sir.  She  is  respectable,  but  not 
sentimental,  and  will  state  the  fact.  A  line  addressed  to  Mrs.  Gamp, 
at  the  Bird  Shop,  Kingsgate  Street,  High  Holborn,  London,  will  meet 
with  every  attention,  I  have  no  doubt.  Let  her  be  examined,  my  good 
sir.  Strike,  but  hear  !  leap,  Mr,  Chuzzlewit,  but  look  !  Forgive  me, 
my  dear  sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  taking  both  his  hands,  "if  I  am 
warm ;  but  I  am  honest,  and  must  state  the  truth." 

In  proof  of  the  character  he  gave  himself,  Mr.  Pecksniff  suffered 
tears  of  honesty  to  ooze  out  of  his  eyes. 

The  old  man  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment  with  a  look  of  wonder^ 
repeating  to  himself,  "  Here  now  !  In  this  house  !  "  But  he  mastered 
his  surprise,  and  said,  after  a  pause  : 

"  Let  me  see  him." 

"  In  a  friendly  spirit,  I  hope  ?  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Forgive  me, 
sir,  but  he  is  in  the  receipt  of  my  humble  hospitality." 

"  I  said,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  let  me  see  him.  If  I  were  disposed 
to  regard  him  in  any  other  than  a  friendly  spirit,  I  should  have  said, 
keep  us  apart." 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  sir.  So  you  would.  You  are  frankness  itself, 
I  know.  I  will  break  this  happiness  to  him,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  he 
left  the  room,  "  if  you  will  excuse  me  for  a  minute — gently." 

He  paved  the  way  to  the  disclosure  so  very  gently,  that  a  quarter  of 
an  hour  elapsed  before  he  returned  with  Mr.  Jonas.  In  the  mean  time 
the  young  ladies  had  made  their  appearance,  and  the  table  had  been  set 
out  for  the  refreshment  of  the  travellers. 

Now,  however  well  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  his  morality,  had  taught  Jonas 

u2 


292  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

the  lesson  of  dutiful  behaviour  to  his  uncle,  and  however  perfectly 
Jonas,  in  the  cunning  of  his  nature,  had  learnt  it,  that  young  man's 
bearing,  when  presented  to  his  father's  brother,  was  anything  but 
manly  or  engaging.  Perhaps,  indeed,  so  singular  a  mixture  of  defiance 
and  obsequiousness,  of  fear  and  hardihood,  of  dogged  suUenness  and  an 
attempt  at  cringing  and  propitiation,  never  was  expressed  in  any  one 
human  figure  as  in  that  of  Jonas,  when,  having  raised  his  downcast 
eyes  to  Martin's  face,  he  let  them  fall  again,  and  uneasily  closing  and 
unclosing  his  hands  without  a  moment's  intermission,  stood  swinging 
himself  from  side  to  side,  waiting  to  be  addressed. 

"  Nephew,"  said  the  old  man.    "  You  have  been  a  dutiful  son,  I  hear." 
"  As  dutiful  as  sons  in  general,  I  suppose,"  returned  Jonas,  looking  up 
and  down  once  more.     "  I  don't  brag  to  have  been  any  better  than  other 
sons  ;  but  I  haven't  been  any  worse  I  dare  say." 

''  A  pattern  to  all  sons,  I  am  told,"  said  the  old  man,  glancing  towards 
Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Ecod  ! "  said  Jonas,  looking  up  again  for  a  moment,  and  shaking 
his  head,  "  I  've  been  as  good  a  son  as  ever  you  were  a  brother.  It 's 
the  pot  and  the  kettle,  if  you  come  to  that." 

"You  speak  bitterly,  in  the  violence  of  your  regret,"  said  Martin,  after 
a  pause.     "  Give  me  your  hand." 

Jonas  did  so,  and  was  almost  at  his  ease.  "  Pecksniff,"  he  whispered, 
as  they  drew  their  chairs  about  the  table ;  "  I  gave  him  as  good  as  he 
brought,  eh  ?  He  had  better  look  at  home,  before  he  looks  out  of 
window,  I  think  ? " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  only  answered  by  a  nudge  of  the  elbow,  which  might 
either  be  construed  into  an  indignant  remonstrance  or  a  cordial  assent ; 
but  which,  in  any  case,  was  an  emphatic  admonition  to  his  chosen  son- 
in-law  to  be  silent.  He  then  proceeded  to  do  the  honours  of  the  house 
with  his  accustomed  ease  and  amiability. 

But  not  even   Mr.  Pecksniff's  guileless  merriment  could  set  such  a 
party  at  their  ease,  or  reconcile  materials  so  utterly  discordant  and  con- 
fiicting  as  those  with  which  he  had  to  deal.     The  unspeakable  jealousy 
and  hatred  which  that  night's  explanation  had  sown  in  Charity's  breast, 
was  not  to  be  so  easily  kept  down;  and  more  than  once  it  showed  itself 
in  such  intensity,  as  seemed  to  render  a  full  disclosure  of  all  the  circum- 
stances then  and  there,  impossible  to  be  avoided.    The  beauteous  Merry, 
too,  with  all  the  glory  of  her  conquest  fresh  upon  her,  so  probed  and 
lanced  the  rankling  disappointment  of  her  sister  by  her  capricious  airs 
and  thousand  little  trials  of  Mr.  Jonas's  obedience,  that  she  almost 
goaded  her  into  a  fit  of  madness,  and  obliged  her  to  retire  from  table  in 
a  burst  of  passion,  hardly  less  vehement  than  that  to  which  she  had 
abandoned  herself  in  the  first  tumult  of  her  wrath.     The  constraint 
imposed  upon  the  family  by  the  presence  among  them  for  the  first  time 
of  Mary  Graham  (for  by  that  name  old  Martin  Chuzzlewit  had  introduced 
her)  did  not  at  all  improve  this  state  of  things :  gentle  and  quiet  though 
her  manner  was.     Mr.  Pecksniff's  situation  was  peculiarly  trying  :  for, 
what  with  having  constantly  to  keep  the  peace  between  his  daughters  ; 
to  maintain  a  reasonable  show  of  afiection  and  unity  in  his  household  ; 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  293 

to  curb  the  growing  ease  and  gaiety  of  Jonas,  whicli  vented  itself  in 
sundry  insolences  towards  Mr.  Pinch,  and  an  indefinable  coarseness  of 
manner  in  reference  to  Mary  (they  being  the  two  dependants)  ;  to  make 
no  mention  at  all  of  his  having  perpetually  to  conciliate  his  rich  old 
relative,  and  to  smooth  down,  or  explain  avv'ay,  some  of  the  ten  thousand 
bad  appearances  and  combinations  of  bad  appearances,  by  which  they 
were  surrounded  on  that  unlucky  evening — what  with  having  to  do  this, 
and  it  would  be  difficult  to  sum  up  how  much  more,  without  the  least 
relief  or  assistance  from  anybody,  it  may  be  easily  imagined  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff  had  in  his  enjoyment  something  more  than  that  usual  portion 
of  alloy  which  is  mixed  up  with  the  best  of  men's  delights.  Perhaps 
he  had  never  in  his  life  felt  such  relief  as  when  old  Martin,  looking  at 
his  watch,  announced  that  it  was  time  to  go. 

"  We  have  rooms,"  he  said,  "  at  the  Dragon,  for  the  present.  I  have 
a  fancy  for  the  evening  walk.  The  nights  are  dark  just  now  :  perhaps 
Mr.  Pinch  would  not  object  to  light  us  home  ?" 

"  My  dear  sir  !"  cried  Pecksniff,  "  /  shall  be  delighted.  Merry,  my 
child,  the  lantern." 

"The  lantern,  if  you  please,  my  dear,"  said  Martin  ;  "but  I  couldn't 
think  of  taking  your  father  out  of  doors  to-night ;  and,  to  be  brief,  I 
won't." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  already  had  his  hat  in  his  hand,  but  it  was  so  em- 
phatically said  that  he  paused. 

"  I  take  Mr.  Pinch,  or  go  alone,"  said  Martin.     "  Which  shall  it  be  ?" 
"  It  shall  be  Thomas,  sir,"  cried  Pecksniff,  "  since  you  are  so  resolute 
upon  it.     Thomas,  my  friend,  be  very  careful,  if  you  please." 

Tom  was  in  some  need  of  this  injunction,  for  he  felt  so  nervous,  and 
trembled  to  such  a  degree,  that  he  found  it  difficult  to  hold  the  lantern. 
How  much  more  difficult  when,  at  the  old  man's  bidding,  she  drew  her 
hand  through  his — Tom  Pinch's — arm  ! 

"  And  so,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Martin,  on  the  way,  "  you  are  very  comfort- 
ably situated  here  ;  are  you  1" 

Tom  answered,  with  even  more  than  his  usual  enthusiasm,  that  he  was 
under  oblio-ations  to  Mr.  Pecksniff  which  the  devotion  of  a  lifetime 
would  but  imperfectly  repay. 

*'  How  long  have  you  known  my  nephew  ?"  asked  Martin. 
"Your  nephew,  sir  !"  faltered  Tom. 
"  Mr.  Jonas  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Mary. 

"  Oh  dear,  yes,"  cried  Tom,  greatly  relieved,  for  his  mind  was  running 
upon  Martin.      "  Certainly.     I  never  spoke  to  him  before  to-night,  sir." 
"  Perhaps  half  a  lifetime  will  suffice  for  the  acknowledgment  of  his 
kindness,"  observed  the  old  man. 

Tom  felt  that  this  was  a  rebuff  for  him,  and  could  not  but  understand 
it  as  a  left-handed  hit  at  his  employer.  So  he  was  silent.  Mary  felt 
that  Mr.  Pinch  was  not  remarkable  for  presence  of  mind,  and  that  he 
could  not  say  too  little  under  existing  circumstances.  So  she  was  silent. 
The  old  man,  disgusted  by  what  in  his  suspicious  nature  he  considered 
a  shameless  and  fulsome  puff  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  which  was  a  part  of  Tom's 
hired  service  and  in  which  he  was  determined  to  persevere,  set  him 


294  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

down  at  once  for  a  deceitful,  servile,  miserable  fawner.  So  he  was  silent. 
And  though  they  were  all  sufficiently  uncomfortable,  it  is  fair  to  say  that 
Martin  was  perhaps  the  most  so  ;  for  he  had  felt  kindly  towards  Tom  at 
first,  and  had  been  interested  by  his  seeming  simplicity. 

"  You  're  like  the  rest,"  he  thought,  glancing  at  the  face  of  the  un- 
conscious Tom.  "  You  had  nearly  imposed  upon  me,  but  you  have  lost 
your  labour.  You  're  too  zealous  a  toadeater,  and  betray  yourself,  Mr. 
Pinch." 

During  the  whole  remainder  of  the  walk,  not  another  word  was 
spoken.  First  among  the  meetings  to  which  Tom  had  long  looked 
forward  with  a  beating  heart,  it  was  memorable  for  nothing  but  embar- 
rassment and  confusion.  They  parted  at  the  Dragon  door  ;  and  sighing 
as  he  extinguished  the  candle  in  the  lantern,  Tom  turned  back  again 
over  the  gloomy  fields. 

As  he  approached  the  first  stile,  which  was  in  a  lonely  part,  made 
very  dark  by  a  plantation  of  young  firs,  a  man  slipped  past  him  and 
went  on  before.  Coming  to  the  stile  he  stopped,  and  took  his  seat  upon 
it.  Tom  was  rather  startled,  and  for  a  moment  stood  still ;  but  he 
stepped  forward  again  immediately,  and  went  close  up  to  him. 

It  was  Jonas ;  swinging  his  legs  to  and  fro,  sucking  the  head  of  a 
stick,  and  looking  with  a  sneer  at  Tom. 

"Good  gracious  me!"  cried  Tom,  "who  would  have  thought  of  its 
being  you  !     You  followed  us,  then  % " 

"  What's  that  to  you  ?"  said  Jonas.     "  Go  to  the  devil !" 

"  You  are  not  very  civil,  I  think,"  remarked  Tom. 

"  Civil  enough  for  you,'"'  retorted  Jonas.     "  Who  are  you  ?" 

"  One  who  has  as  good  a  right  to  common  consideration  as  another," 
said  Tom,  mildly. 

"  You  're  a  liar,"  said  Jonas.  "  You  have  n't  a  right  to  any  consider- 
ation. You  have  n't  a  right  to  anything.  You  're  a  pretty  sort  of  fellow 
to  talk  about  your  rights,  upon  my  soul !     Ha,  ha  ! — rights,  too  !" 

"  If  you  proceed  in  this  way,"  returned  Tom,  reddening,  "  you  will 
oblige  me  to  talk  about  my  wrongs.     But  I  hope  your  joke  is  over." 

"  It 's  the  way  with  you  curs,"  said  Mr.  Jonas,  "  that  when  you  know 
a  man's  in  real  earnest,  you  pretend  to  think  he's  joking,  so  that  you 
may  turn  it  off.  But  that  won't  do  with  me.  It 's  too  stale.  Now 
just  attend  to  me  for  a  bit,  Mr.  Pitch,  or  Witch,  or  Stich,  or  whatever 
your  name  is." 

"  My  name  is  Pinch,"  observed  Tom.  "  Have  the  goodness  to  call 
me  by  it." 

"  What !  You  must  n't  even  be  called  out  of  your  name,  must  n't  you !" 
cried  Jonas.  "  Pauper  'prentices  are  looking  up,  I  think.  Ecod,  we 
manage  'em  a  little  better  in  the  city  !" 

"  Never  mind  what  you  do  in  the  city,"  said  Tom.  "  What  have  you 
got  to  say  to  me  '? " 

"  Just  this,  Mister  Pinch,"  retorted  Jonas,  thrusting  his  face  so  close 
to  Tom's  that  Tom  was  obliged  to  retreat  a  step,  "  I  advise  you  to  keep 
your  own  counsel,  and  to  avoid  tittle-tattle,  and  not  to  cut  in  where 
you  're  not  wanted.     I  've  heard  something  of  you,  my  friend,  and  your 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  295 

meek  ways  ;  and  I  recommend  you  to  forget  'em  till  I  'm  married  to  one 
of  Pecksniff's  gals,  and  not  to  curry  favour  among  my  relations,  but  to 
leave  the  course  clear.  You  know,  when  curs  won't  leave  the  course 
clear,  they  're  whipped  off ;  so  this  is  kind  advice.  Do  you  understand  ? 
Eh?  Damme,  who  are  you,"  cried  Jonas,  with  increased  contempt, 
"  that  you  should  walk  home  with  them,  unless  it  was  behind  'em,  like 
any  other  servant  out  of  livery  V^ 

"  Come ! "  cried  Tom,  "  I  see  that  you  had  better  get  off  the  stile,  and 
let  me  pursue  my  way  home.     Make  room  for  me,  if  you  please." 

"  Don't  think  it !"  said  Jonas,  spreading  out  his  legs.  "  Not  till  I 
choose.  And  I  don't  choose  now.  What !  You  're  afraid  of  my 
making  you  split  upon  some  of  your  babbling  just  now,  are  you. 
Sneak  T 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  many  things,  I  hope,"  said  Tom  ;  "  and  certainly 
not  of  anything  that  you  will  do.  I  am  not  a  tale-bearer,  and  I  despise 
all  meanness.  You  quite  mistake  me.  Ah  !"  cried  Tom,  indignantly. 
"  Is  this  manly  from  one  in  your  position  to  one  in  mine  ?  Please  to 
make  room  for  me  to  pass.     The  less  I  say,  the  better." 

"  The  less  you  say  !"  retorted  Jonas,  dangling  his  legs  the  more,  and 
taking  no  heed  of  this  request.  "  You  say  very  little,  don't  you  1  Ecod, 
I  should  like  to  know  what  goes  on  between  you  and  a  vagabond  member 
of  my  family.     There  's  very  little  in  that,  too,  I  dare  say  !" 

"  I  know  no  vagabond  member  of  your  family,"  cried  Tom,  stoutly. 

"  You  do  f  said  Jonas. 

"  I  don't,"  said  Tom.  "  Your  uncle's  namesake,  if  you  mean  him,  is 
no  vagabond.  Any  comparison  between  you  and  him  " — Tom  snapped 
his  fingers  at  him,  for  he  was  rising  fast  in  wrath — "  is  immeasurably 
to  your  disadvantage." 

"  Oh  indeed  !"  sneered  Jonas.  "  And  what  do  you  think  of  his 
deary — his  beggarly  leavings,  eh.  Mister  Pinch  ? 

"  I  don't  mean  to  say  another  word,  or  stay  here  another  instant," 
replied  Tom. 

"  As  I  told  you  before,  you  're  a  liar,"  said  Jonas,  coolly.  "  You  '11  stay 
here  till  I  give  you  leave  to  go.     Now  keep  where  you  are,  will  you  !" 

He  flourished  his  stick  over  Tom's  head ;  but  in  a  moment,  it  was 
spinning  harmlessly  in  the  air,  and  Jonas  himself  lay  sprawling  in  the 
ditch.  In  the  momentary  struggle  for  the  stick,  Tom  had  brought  it  into 
violent  contact  with  his  opponent's  forehead  ;  and  the  blood  welled  out 
profusely  from  a  deep  cut  on  the  temple.  Tom  was  first  apprised  of  this 
by  seeing  that  he  pressed  his  handkerchief  to  the  wounded  part,  and 
staggered  as  he  rose  :  being  stunned. 

"  Are  you  hurt  V  said  Tom.  "  I  am  very  sorry.  Lean  on  me  for  a 
moment.  You  can  do  that  without  forgiving  me,  if  you  still  bear  me 
malice.  But  I  don't  know  why ;  for  I  never  offended  you  before  we 
met  on  this  spot." 

He  made  him  no  answer  :  not  appearing  at  first  to  understand  him, 
or  even  to  know  that  he  was  hurt,  though  he  several  times  took  his 
handkerchief  from  the  cut  to  look  vacantly  at  the  blood  upon  it.  After 
one  of  these  examinations,  he  looked  at  Tom,  and  then  there  was  an 


296  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

expression  in  Lis  features,  which  showed  that  he  understood  what  had 
taken  place,  and  would  remember  it. 

Nothing  more  passed  between  them  as  they  went  home.  Jonas  kept 
a  little  in  advance,  and  Tom  Pinch  sadly  followed  :  thinking  of  the  grief 
which  the  knowledge  of  this  quarrel  must  occasion  his  excellent  bene- 
factor. When  Jonas  knocked  at  the  door,  Tom's  heart  beat  high  ; 
higher  when  Miss  Mercy  answered  it,  and,  seeing  her  wounded  lover, 
shrieked  aloud  ;  higher  when  he  followed  them  into  the  family  parlour  ; 
higher  than  at  any  other  time  when  Jonas  spoke. 

"  Don't  make  a  noise  about  it,"  he  said.  "  It 's  nothing  worth  men- 
tioning. I  didn't  know  the  road  ;  the  night 's  very  dark  ;  and  just  as 
I  came  up  with  Mr.  Pinch" — he  turned  his  face  towards  Tom,  but  not 
his  eyes — "  I  ran  against  a  tree.     It 's  only  skin-deep." 

"  Cold  water,  Merry,  my  child  !"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Brown  paper  ! 
Scissors  !  A  piece  of  old  linen  !  Charity,  my  dear,  make  a  bandage. 
Bless  me,  Mr.  Jonas  !" 

"  Oh,  bother  ^our  nonsense,"  returned  the  gracious  son-in-law  elect. 
"  Be  of  some  use  if  you  can.     If  you  can't,  get  out !" 

Miss  Charity,  though  called  upon  to  lend  her  aid,  sat  upright  in  one 
corner,  with  a  smile  upon  her  face,  and  didn't  move  a  finger.  Though 
Mercy  laved  the  wound  herself ;  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  held  the  patient's 
head  between  his  two  hands,  as  if  without  that  assistance  it  must 
inevitably  come  in  half ;  and  Tom  Pinch,  in  his  guilty  agitation,  shook 
a  bottle  of  Dutch  Drops  until  they  were  nothing  but  English  Froth,  and 
in  his  other  hand  sustained  a  formidable  carving-knife,  really  intended 
to  reduce  the  swelling,  but  apparently  designed  for  the  ruthless  infliction 
of  another  wound  as  soon  as  that  was  dressed ;  Charity  rendered  not 
the  least  assistance,  nor  uttered  a  word.  But  when  Mr.  Jonas's  head  was 
bound  up,  and  he  had  gone  to  bed,  and  everybody  else  had  retired,  and 
the  house  was  quiet,  Mr.  Pinch,  as  he  sat  mournfully  on  his  bedstead, 
ruminating,  heard  a  gentle  tap  at  his  door ;  and  opening  it,  saw  her,  to 
his  great  astonishment,  standing  before  him  with  her  finger  on  her  lip. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  she  whispered.  "  Dear  Mr.  Pinch  !  tell  me  the  truth  ! 
You  did  that  1  There  was  some  quarrel  between  you,  and  you  struck 
him  ?     I  am  sure  of  it !" 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  spoken  kindly  to  Tom,  in  all  the 
many  years  they  had  passed  together.    He  was  stupefied  with  amazement. 

"  Was  it  so,  or  not?"  she  eagerly  demanded. 

"  I  was  very  much  provoked,"  said  Tom. 

"  Then  it  was?"  cried  Charity,  with  sparkling  eyes. 

*'  Ye-yes.  We  had  a  struggle  for  the  path,"  said  Tom.  "  But  I 
didn't  mean  to  hurt  him  so  much." 

"  Not  so  much  !"  she  repeated,  clenching  her  hand  and  stamping  her 
foot,  to  Tom's  great  wonder.  "Don't  say  that.  It  was  brave  of  you. 
I  honour  you  for  it.  If  you  should  ever  quarrel  again,  don't  spare  him 
for  the  world,  but  beat  him  down  and  set  your  shoe  upon  him.  Not  a 
word  of  this  to  anybody.  Dear  Mr.  Pinch,  I  am  your  friend  from  to- 
night.    I  am  always  your  friend  from  this  time." 

She  turned  her  flushed  face  upon  Tom  to  confirm  her  words  by  its 


yy-^^^ymyfo■^yM■fy^^^/(?t€^_^ 


^■^y  X^(?tc^..^ie<;6^  c^iA/?^ 


C^/z/?,yi-r/y 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  297 

kindling  expression ;  and  seizing  his  right  hand,  pressed  it  to  her 
breast,  and  kissed  it.  And  there  was  nothing  personal  in  this  to  render 
it  at  all  embarrassing,  for  even  Tom,  whose  power  of  observation  was 
by  no  means  remarkable,  knew  from  the  energy  with  which  she  did  it 
that  she  would  have  fondled  any  hand,  no  matter  how  bedaubed  or 
dyed,  that  had  broken  the  head  of  Jonas  Chuzzlewit. 

Tom  went  into  his  room,  and  went  to  bed,  full  of  uncomfortable 
thoughts.  That  there  should  be  any  such  tremendous  division  in  the 
family  as  he  knew  must  have  taken  place  to  convert  Charity  Pecksniff 
into  his  friend,  for  any  reason,  but,  above  all,  for  that  which  was  clearly  the 
real  one ;  that  Jonas,  who  had  assailed  him  with  such  exceeding  coarse- 
ness, should  have  been  sufficiently  magnanimous  to  keep  the  secret  of 
their  quarrel ;  and  that  any  train  of  circumstances  should  have  led  to 
the  commission  of  an  assault  and  battery  by  Thomas  Pinch  upon  any 
man  calling  himself  the  friend  of  Seth  Pecksniff ;  were  matters  of  such 
deep  and  painful  cogitation,  that  he  could  not  close  his  eyes.  His  own 
violence,  in  particular,  so  preyed  upon  the  generous  mind  of  Tom,  that 
coupling  it  with  the  many  former  occasions  on  which  he  had  given  Mr. 
Pecksniff  pain  and  anxiety  (occasions  of  which  that  gentleman  often 
reminded  him),  he  really  began  to  regard  himself  as  destined  by 
a  mysterious  fate  to  be  the  evil  genius  and  bad  angel  of  his  patron. 
But  he  fell  asleep  at  last,  and  dreamed — new  source  of  waking  un- 
easiness— that  he  had  betrayed  his  trust,  and  run  away  with  Mary 
Graham. 

It  must  be  acknowledged  that,  asleep  or  awake,  Tom's  position  in 
reference  to  this  young  lady  was  full  of  uneasiness.  The  more  he  saw 
of  her,  the  more  he  admired  her  beauty,  her  intelligence,  the  amiable 
qualities  that  even  won  on  the  divided  house  of  Pecksniff,  and  in  a  few 
days  restored  at  all  events  the  semblance  of  harmony  and  kindness 
between  the  angry  sisters.  When  she  spoke,  Tom  held  his  breath,  so 
eagerly  he  listened  ;  when  she  sang,  he  sat  like  one  entranced.  She 
touched  his  organ,  and  from  that  bright  epoch  even  it,  the  old  companion 
of  his  happiest  hours,  incapable  as  he  had  thought  of  elevation,  began 
a  new  and  deified  existence. 

God's  love  upon  thy  patience,  Tom  !  Who  that  had  beheld  thee,  for 
three  summer  weeks,  poring  through  half  the  deadlong  night  over  the 
jingling  anatomy  of  that  inscrutable  old  harpsichord  in  the  back  parlour, 
could  have  missed  the  entrance  to  thy  secret  heart  :  albeit  it  was  dimly 
known  to  thee  !  Who  that  had  seen  the  glow  upon  thy  cheek  when 
leaning  down  to  listen,  after  hours  of  labour,  for  the  sound  of  one  incor- 
rigible note,  thou  foundst  that  it  had  a  voice  at  last,  and  wheezedst  out 
a  flat  something  distantly  akin  to  what  it  ought  to  be, — would  not  have 
known  that  it  was  destined  for  no  common  touch,  but  one  that  smote, 
though  gently  as  an  angel's  hand,  upon  the  deepest  chord  within  thee  ! 
And  if  a  friendly  glance — ay,  even  though  it  were  as  guileless  as  thine 
own,  Dear  Tom — could  but  have  pierced  the  twilight  of  that  evening, 
when,  in  a  voice  well  tempered  to  the  time,  sad,  sweet,  and  low,  yet 
hopeful,  she  first  sang  to  the  altered  instrument,  and  wondered  at  the 
change  ;  and  thou,  sitting  apart  at  the  open  window,  keptst  a  glad  silence 


298  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

and  a  swelling  heart — must  not  that  glance  have  read  perforce  the  dawn- 
ing of  a  story,  Tom,  that  it  were  well  for  thee  had  never  been  begun  ! 

Tom  Pinch's  situation  was  not  made  the  less  dangerous  or  difficult,  by 
the  fact  of  no  one  word  passing  between  them  in  reference  to  Martin. 
Honourably  mindful  of  his  promise,  Tom  gave  her  opportunities  of  all 
kinds.  Early  and  late  he  was  in  the  church  ;  in  her  favourite  walks  ; 
in  the  village,  in  the  garden,  in  the  meadows  ;  and  in  any  or  all  of 
these  places  he  might  have  spoken  freely.  But  no  :  at  all  such  times 
she  carefully  avoided  him,  or  never  came  in  his  way  unaccompanied.  It 
could  not  be  that  she  disliked  or' distrusted  him,  for  by  a  thousand  little 
delicate  means,  too  slight  for  any  notice  but  his  own,  she  singled  him 
out  when  others  were  present,  and  showed  herself  the  very  soul  of  kind- 
ness. Could  it  be  that  she  had  broken  with  Martin,  or  had  never 
returned  his  aifection,  save  in  his  own  bold  and  heightened  fancy  ?  Tom's 
cheek  grew  red  with  self-reproach,  as  he  dismissed  the  thought. 

All  this  time  old  Martin  came  and  went  in  his  own  strange  manner, 
or  sat  among  the  rest  absorbed  within  himself,  and  holding  little  inter- 
course with  any  one.  Although  he  was  unsocial,  he  was  not  wilful  in 
other  things,  or  troublesome,  or  morose  :  being  never  better  pleased  than 
when  they  left  him  quite  unnoticed  at  his  book,  and  pursued  their  own 
amusements  in  his  presence,  unreserved.  It  was  impossible  to  discern  in 
whom  he  took  an  interest,  or  whether  he  had  an  interest  in  any  of  them. 
Unless  they  spoke  to  him  directly,  he  never  showed  that  he  had  ears  or 
eyes  for  anything  that  passed. 

One  day  the  lively  Merry,  sitting  with  downcast  eyes  under  a  shady 
tree  in  the  churchyard,  whither  she  had  retired  after  fatiguing  herself  by 
the  imposition  of  sundry  trials  on  the  temper  of  Mr.  Jonas,  felt  that  a 
new  shadow  came  between  her  and  the  sun.  Raising  her  eyes  in  the 
expectation  of  seeing  her  betrothed,  she  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  see 
old  Martin  instead.  Her  surprise  was  not  diminished  when  he  took  his 
seat  upon  the  turf  beside  her,  and  opened  a  conversation  thus  : 

"  When  are  you  to  be  married  1 " 

"  Oh  !  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  my  goodness  me !  I  'm  sure  I  don't 
know.     Not  yet  awhile,  I  hope." 

"  You  hope  ?"  said  the  old  man. 

It  was  very  gravely  said,  but  she  took  it  for  banter,  and  giggled 
excessively. 

"  Come  !"  said  the  old  man,  with  unusual  kindness,  "you  are  young, 
good-looking,  and  I  think  good-natured  !  Frivolous  you  are,  and  love 
to  be,  undoubtedly ;  but  you  must  have  some  heart." 

"  I  have  not  given  it  all  away,  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Merry,  nodding 
her  head  shrewdly,  and  plucking  up  the  grass. 

"  Have  you  parted  with  any  of  it  V 

She  threw  the  grass  about,  and  looked  another  way,  but  said  nothing. 

Martin  repeated  his  question. 

"  Lor,  my  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit !  really  you  must  excuse  me  !  How 
very  odd  you  are." 

"  If  it  be  odd  in  me  to  desire  to  know  whether  you  love  the  young 
man  whom  I  understand  you  are  to  marry,  I  am  very  odd,"  said  Martin. 
"  For  that  is  certainly  my  wish." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  299 

"  He  's  such  a  monster,  you  know,"  said  Merry,  pouting. 

"  Then  you  don't  love  him  ?"  returned  the  old  man.  "  Is  that  your 
meaning  ?" 

"  Why,  my  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  'm  sure  I  tell  him  a  hundred  times 
a  day  that  I  hate  him.     You  must  have  heard  me  tell  him  that." 

"  Often,"  said  Martin. 

"  And  so  I  do,"  cried  Merry.      "  I  do  positively." 

"  Being  at  the  same  time  engaged  to  marry  him,"  observed  the  old 
man. 

"Oh  yes,"  said  Merry.  "But  I  told  the  wretch — my  dear  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit,  I  told  him  when  he  asked  me — that  if  I  ever  did  marry 
him,  it  should  only  be  that  I  might  hate  and  teaze  him  all  my  life." 

She  had  a  suspicion  that  the  old  man  regarded  Jonas  with  anything 
but  favour,  and  intended  these  remarks  to  be  extremely  captivating. 
He  did  not  appear,  however,  to  regard  them  in  that  light  by  any  means  ; 
for  when  he  spoke  again,  it  was  in  a  tone  of  severity. 

"  Look  about  you,"  he  said,  pointing  to  the  graves  ;  "  and  remember 
that  from  your  bridal  hour  to  the  day  which  sees  you  brought  as  low  as 
these,  and  laid  in  such  a  bed,  there  will  be  no  appeal  against  him. 
Think,  and  speak,  and  act,  for  once,  like  an  accountable  creature.  Is 
any  control  put  upon  your  inclinations  ?  Are  you  forced  into  this 
match  1  Are  you  insidiously  advised  or  tempted  to  contract  it,  by  any 
one  1  I  will  not  ask  by  whom  :  by  any  one  1" 

"  No,"  said  Merry,  shrugging  her  shoulders.  "  I  don't  know  that 
I  am." 

"  Don't  know  that  you  are  !     Are  you  ?" 

"  No,"  replied  Merry.  "  Nobody  ever  said  anything  to  me  about  it. 
If  any  one  had  tried  to  make  me  have  him,  I  would  n't  have  had  him 
at  all." 

"  I  am  told  that  he  was  at  first  supposed  to  be  your  sister's  admirer," 
said  Martin. 

"  Oh,  good  gracious  !  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  it  would  be  very  hard 
to  make  him,  though  he  is  a  monster,  accountable  for  other  people's 
vanity,"  said  Merry.     "  And  poor  dear  Cherry  is  the  vainest  darling  1" 

"  It  was  her  mistake  then  ?" 

"  I  hope  it  was,"  cried  Merry;  "  but,  all  along,  the  dear  child  has  been 
80  dreadfully  jealous  and  so  cross,  that,  upon  my  word  and  honour,  it 's 
impossible  to  please  her,  and  it 's  of  no  use  trying." 

"Not  forced,  persuaded,  or  controlled,"  said  Martin,  thoughtfully. 
"  And  that 's  true,  I  see.  There  is  one  chance  yet.  You  may  have 
lapsed  into  this  engagement  in  very  giddiness.  It  may  have  been  the 
wanton  act  of  a  light  head.    Is  that  so  V 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  simpered  Merry,  "  as  to  light-headedness, 
there  never  was  such  a  feather  of  a  head  as  mine.  It 's  a  perfect  balloon, 
I  declare  !     You  never  did,  you  know  !" 

He  waited  quietly  till  she  had  finished,  and  then  said,  steadily  and 
slowly,  and  in  a  softened  voice,  as  if  he  would  still  invite  her  con- 
fidence : 

"  Have  you  any  msh — or  is  there  anything  within  your  breast  that 


300  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES   OP 

•wliispers  you  may  form  the  wish,  if  you  have  time  to  think — to  be 
released  from  this  engagement?" 

Again  Miss  Merry  pouted,  and  looked  down,  and  plucked  the  grass, 
and  shrugged  her  shoulders.  No.  She  didn't  know  that  she  had.  She 
was  pretty  sure  she  hadn't.  Quite  sure,  she  might  say.  She  "  didn't 
mind  it." 

"  Has  it  ever  occurred  to  you,"  said  Martin,  "  that  your  married  life 
may  perhaps  be  miserable,  full  of  bitterness,  and  most  unhappy  1 " 

Merry  looked  down  again ;  and  now  she  tore  the  grass  up  by  the 
roots. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewlt,  what  shocking  words  !  Of  course,  I  shall 
quarrel  with  him  ;  I  should  quarrel  with  any  husband.  Married  people 
always  quarrel,  I  believe.  But  as  to  being  miserable,  and  bitter,  and  all 
those  dreadful  things,  you  know,  why  I  couldn't  be  absolutely  that, 
unless  he  always  had  the  best  of  it ;  and  I  mean  to  have  the  best  of  it 
myself.  I  always  do  now,"  cried  Merry,  nodding  her  head,  and  giggling 
very  much ;  "  for  I  make  a  perfect  slave  of  the  creature." 

"  Let  it  go  on,"  said  Martin,  rising.  "  Let  it  go  on  !  I  sought  to 
know  your  mind,  my  dear,  and  you  have  shown  it  me.  I  wish  you 
joy.  Joy  !"  he  repeated,  looking  full  upon  her,  and  pointing  to  the 
wicket-gate  where  Jonas  entered  at  the  moment.  And  then,  without 
waiting  for  his  nephew,  he  passed  out  at  another  gate,  and  went  away. 

"  Oh  you  terrible  old  man  !"  cried  the  facetious  Merry  to  herself. 
"  What  a  perfectly  hideous  monster  to  be  wandering  about  churchyards 
in  the  broad  daylight,  frightening  people  out  of  their  wits  1  Don't  come 
here.  Griffin,  or  I'll  go  away  directly." 

Mr.  Jonas  was  the  Griffin.  He  sat  down  upon  the  grass  at  her  side, 
in  spite  of  this  warning,  and  sulkily  inquired  : 

"  What 's  my  uncle  been  a  talking  about  ?" 

"About  you,"  rejoined  Merry.  "He  says  you're  not  half  good 
enough  for  me." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  dare  say  !  We  all  know  that.  He  means  to  give  you 
some  present  worth  having,  I  hope.  Did  he  say  anything  that  looked 
like  it  r 

"  That  he  didn't  I"  cried  Merry,  most  decisively. 

"  A  stingy  old  dog  he  is,"  said  Jonas.     "  Well  ?" 

"  Griffin  !"  cried  Miss  Mercy,  in  counterfeit  amazement  ;  "  what  are 
you  doing,  Griffin  1" 

"  Only  giving  you  a  squeeze,"  said  the  discomfited  Jonas.  "  There 's 
no  harm  in  that,  I  suppose '?" 

"  But  there  is  a  great  deal  of  harm  in  it,  if  I  don't  consider  it  agree- 
able," returned  his  cousin.  "  Do  go  along,  will  you  1  You  make  me 
so  hot !" 

Mr.  Jonas  withdrew  his  arm  ;  and  for  a  moment  looked  at  her  more 
like  a  murderer  than  a  lover.  But  he  cleared  his  brow  by  degrees,  and 
broke  silence  with  : 

"  I  say,  Mel !" 

"  What  do  you  say,  you  vulgar  thing — you  low  savage  ]"  cried  his 
fair  betrothed. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  301 

"  "When  is  it  to  be  ?  I  can't  afford  to  go  on  dawdling  about  here  half 
my  life,  I  needn't  tell  you,  and  Pecksniff  says  that  father's  being  so 
lately  dead  makes  very  little  odds  ;  for  we  can  be  married  as  quiet  as 
we  please  down  here,  and  my  being  lonely  is  a  good  reason  to  the 
neighbours  for  taking  a  wife  home  so  soon,  especially  one  that  He  knew. 
As  to  crossbones  (my  uncle,  I  mean),  he 's  sure  not  to  put  a  spoke  in  the 
wheel,  whatever  we  settle  on,  for  he  told  Pecksniff  only  this  morning, 
that  if  you  liked  it,  he  'd  nothing  at  all  to  say.  So,  Mel,"  said  Jonas, 
venturing  on  another  squeeze  ;  "  when  shall  it  be  T 

"  Upon  my  word,"  cried  Merry. 

"  Upon  my  soul,  if  you  like,"  said  Jonas.  "  What  do  you  say  to  next 
week,  now?" 

"  To  next  week  !  If  you  had  said  next  quarter,  I  should  have  wondered 
at  your  impudence." 

"  But  I  didn't  say  next  quarter,"  retorted  Jonas.     "  I  said  next  week." 

"  Then,  Griffin,"  cried  Miss  Merry,  pushing  him  off,  and  rising.  "  I 
say  no !  not  next  week.  It  shan't  be  till  I  choose — and  I  may  not 
choose  it  to  be  for  months.     There  1" 

He  glanced  up  at  her  from  the  ground,  almost  as  darkly  as  he  had 
looked  at  Tom  Pinch  ;  but  held  his  peace. 

"  No  fright  of  a  Griffin  with  a  patch  over  his  eye,  shall  dictate  to  me, 
or  have  a  voice  in  the  matter,"  said  Merry.     "  There  !" 

Still  Mr.  Jonas  held  his  peace. 

"  If  it's  next  month,  that  shall  be  the  very  earliest ;  but  I  won't  say 
when  it  shall  be  till  to-morrow;  and  if  you  don't  like  that,  it  shall  never 
be  at  all,"  said  Merry  ;  "  and  if  you  follow  me  about  and  won't  leave  me 
alone,  it  shall  never  be  at  all.  There !  And  if  you  don't  do  everything 
I  order  you  to  do,  it  shall  never  be  at  all.  So  don't  follow  me.  There, 
Griffin  !" 

And  with  that,  she  skipped  away,  among  the  trees. 

"  Ecod,  my  lady  !"  said  Jonas,  looking  after  her,  and  biting  a  piece  of 
straw,  almost  to  powder  ;  "  you  '11  catch  it  for  this,  when  you  are 
married !  It's  all  very  well  now — it  keeps  one  on,  somehow,  and  you 
know  it — but  I  '11  pay  you  off  scot  and  lot  by  and  bye.  This  is  a  plaguey 
dull  sort  of  place  for  a  man  to  be  sitting  by  himself  in.  I  never  could 
abide  a  mouldy  old  churchyard." 

As  he  turned  into  the  avenue  himself,  Miss  Merry,  who  was  far  ahead, 
happened  to  look  back. 

"Ah!"  said  Jonas  with  a  sullen  smile,  and  a  nod  that  was  not 
addressed  to  her  ;  "  make  the  most  of  it  while  it  lasts.  Get  in  your  hay 
while  the  sun  shines.  Take  your  own  way  as  long  as  it's  in  your  power, 
my  lady !" 


302  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES   OP 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

IS  IN  PART  PROFESSIONAL  ;  AND  FURNISHES  THE  READER  WITH  SOME 
VALUABLE  HINTS  IN  RELATION  TO  THE  MANAGEMENT  OF  A  SICK 
CHAMBER. 

Mr.  Mould  was  surrounded  by  his  household  gods.  He  was  enjoying 
the  sweets  of  domestic  repose,  and  gazing  on  them  with  a  calm  delight. 
The  day  being  sultry,  and  the  window  open,  the  legs  of  Mr.  Mould 
were  on  the  window-seat,  and  his  back  reclined  against  the  shutter. 
Over  his  shining  head  a  handkerchief  was  drawn,  to  guard  his  baldness 
from  the  flies.  The  room  was  fragrant  with  the  smell  of  punch,  a 
tumbler  of  which  grateful  compound  stood  upon  a  small  round  table, 
convenient  to  the  hand  of  Mr.  Mould  j  so  deftly  mixed,  that  as  his  eye 
looked  down  into  the  cool  transparent  drink,  another  eye,  peering 
brightly  from  behind  the  crisp  lemon-peel,  looked  up  at  him,  and 
twinkled  like  a  star. 

Deep  in  the  city,  and  within  the  ward  of  Cheap,  stood  Mr.  Mould's 
establishment.  His  Harem,  or,  in  other  words,  the  common  sitting- 
room  of  Mrs.  Mould  and  family,  was  at  the  back,  over  the  little 
counting-house  behind  the  shop  :  abutting  on  a  churchyard,  small  and 
shady.  In  this  domestic  chamber  Mr.  Mould  now  sat ;  gazing,  a  placid 
man,  upon  his  punch  and  home.  If,  for  a  moment  at  a  time,  he  sought 
a  wider  prospect,  whence  he  might  return  with  freshened  zest  to  these 
enjoyments,  his  moist  glance  wandered  like  a  sunbeam  through  a  rural 
screen  of  scarlet  runners,  trained  on  strings  before  the  window ;  and  he 
looked  down,  with  an  artist's  eye,  upon  the  graves. 

The  partner  of  his  life,  and  daughters  twain,  were  Mr.  Mould's  com- 
panions. Plump  as  any  partridge  was  each  Miss  Mould,  and  Mrs.  M. 
was  plumper  than  the  two  together.  So  round  and  chubby  were  their 
fair  proportions,  that  they  might  have  been  the  bodies  once  belonging 
to  the  angels'  faces  in  the  shop  below,  grown  up,  with  other  heads 
attached  to  make  them  mortal.  Even  their  peachy  cheeks  were 
puffed  out  and  distended,  as  though  they  ought  of  right  to  be  performing 
on  celestial  trumpets.  The  bodiless  cherubs  in  the  shop,  who  were 
depicted  as  constantly  blowing  those  instruments  for  ever  and  ever 
without  any  lungs,  played,  it  is  to  be  presumed,  entirely  by  ear. 

Mr.  Mould  looked  lovingly  at  Mrs.  Mould,  who  sat  hard  by,  and  was 
a  helpmate  to  him  in  his  punch  as  in  all  other  things.  Each  seraph 
daughter,  too,  enjoyed  her  share  of  his  regards,  and  smiled  upon  him 
in  return.  So  bountiful  were  Mr.  Mould's  possessions,  and  so  large  his 
stock  in  trade,  that  even  there,  within  his  household  sanctuary,  stood 
a  cumbrous  press,  whose  mahogany  maw  was  filled  with  shrouds,  and 
winding-sheets,  and  other  furniture  of  funerals.  But,  though  the  Misses 
Mould  had  been  brought  up,  as  one  may  say,  beneath  its  eye,  it  had 
cast  no  shadow  on  their  timid  infancy  or  blooming  youth.  Sporting 
behind  the  scenes  of  death  and  burial  from  cradlehood,  the  Misses 
Mould  knew  better.     Hatbands,  to  them,  were  but  so  many  yards  of 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  303 

silk  or  crape  ;  the  final  robe  but  such  a  quantity  of  iinen.  The  Misses 
Mould  could  idealize  a  player's  habit,  or  a  court-lady's  petticoat,  or 
even  an  act  of  parliament.  But  they  were  not  to  be  taken  in  by  palls. 
They  made  them  sometimes. 

The  premises  of  Mr.  Mould  were  hard  of  hearing  to  the  boisterous 
noises  in  the  great  main  streets,  and  nestled  in  a  quiet  corner,  where 
the  city  strife  became  a  drowsy  hum,  that  sometimes  rose  and  sometimes 
fell  and  sometimes  altogether  ceased  :  suggesting  to  a  thoughtful  mind 
a  stoppage  in  Cheapside.  The  light  came  sparkling  in  among  the 
scarlet  runners,  as  if  the  churchyard  winked  at  Mr.  Mould,  and  said, 
"  We  understand  each  other ;"  and  from  the  distant  shop  a  pleasant 
sound  arose  of  coffin-making  with  a  low  melodious  hammer,  rat,  tat, 
tat,  tat,  alike  promoting  slumber  and  digestion. 

"  Quite  the  buzz  of  insects,"  said  Mr.  Mould,  closing  his  eyes  in  a 
perfect  luxury.  "  It  puts  one  in  mind  of  the  sound  of  animated  nature 
in  the  agricultural  districts.    It 's  exactly  like  the  woodpecker  tapping." 

"  The  woodpecker  tapping  the  hollow  elm  tree,"  observed  Mrs.  Mould, 
adapting  the  words  of  the  popular  melody  to  the  description  of  w^ood 
commonly  used  in  the  trade. 

"Ha  ha!"  laughed  Mr.  Mould.  "Not  at  all  bad,  my  dear.  We 
shall  be  glad  to  hear  from  you  again,  Mrs.  M.  Hollow  elm  tree,  eh  1 
Ha  ha  !  Very  good  indeed.  I  've  seen  worse  than  that  in  the  Sunday 
papers,  my  love." 

Mrs.  Mould,  thus  encouraged,  took  a  little  more  of  the  punch,  and 
handed  it  to  her  daughters,  who  dutifully  followed  the  example  of  their 
mother. 

"Hollow  elm  tree,  eh  ?"  said  Mr.  Mould,  making  a  slight  motion 
with  his  legs  in  his  enjoyment  of  the  joke.  "  It 's  beech  in  the  song. 
Elm,  eh  ?  Yes,  to  be  sure.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Upon  my  soul,  that 's  one 
of  the  best  things  I  know  !"  He  was  so  excessively  tickled  by  the  jest 
that  he  couldn't  forget  it,  but  repeated  twenty  times,  "  Elm,  eh  ?  Yes, 
to  be  sure.  Elm,  of  course.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Upon  my  life,  you  know, 
that  ought  to  be  sent  to  somebody  who  could  make  use  of  it.  It 's  one 
of  the  smartest  things  that  ever  was  said.  Hollow  elm  tree,  eh  1  Of 
course.     Very  hollow.     Ha,  ha,  ha  !" 

Here  a  knock  was  heard  at  the  room  door. 

"  That 's  Tacker,  /  know,"  said  Mrs.  Mould,  "  by  the  wheezing  he 
makes.  Who  that  hears  him  now,  would  suppose  he  'd  ever  had  wind 
enough  to  carry  the  feathers  on  his  head  !     Come  in,  Tacker." 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  ma'am,"  said  Tacker,  looking  in  a  little  way.  "  I 
thought  our  Governor  was  here." 

"  Well  !     So  he  is,"  cried  Mould. 

"  Oh  !  I  didn't  see  you,  I  'm  sure,"  said  Tacker,  looking  in  a  little 
farther.  "  You  wouldn't  be  inclined  to  take  a  walking  one  of  two,  with 
the  plain  wood  and  a  tin  plate,  I  suppose  1 " 

"  Certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Mould,  "  much  too  common.  Nothing 
to  say  to  it." 

"  I  told  'em  it  was  precious  low,"  observed  Mr.  Tacker. 

"'  Tell  'em  to  go  somewhere  else.     We  don't  do  that  style  of  business 


304  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

here,"  said  Mr.  Mould.     "  Like  their  impudence  to  propose  it.     Who 
is  it?" 

"  Why,"  returned  Tacker,  pausing,  "  that 's  where  it  is,  you  see.  It 's 
the  beadle's  son-in-law." 

"  The  beadle's  son-in-law,  eh  ?"  said  Mould.  "  Well !  1 11  do  it  if 
the  beadle  follows  in  his  cocked  hat  ;  not  else.  We  may  carry  it  off 
that  way,  by  looking  official,  but  it  '11  be  low  enough  then.  His  cocked 
hat,  mind  !" 

"I'll  take  care,  sir,"  rejoined  Tacker.  "Oh  !  Mrs.  Gamp  's  below, 
and  wants  to  speak  to  you." 

"  Tell  Mrs.  Gamp  to  come  up  stairs,"  said  Mould.  "  Now,  Mrs. 
Gamp,  what 's  your  news  ?" 

The  lady  in  question  was  by  this  time  in  the  doorway,  curtseying  to 
Mrs.  Mould.  At  the  same  moment  a  peculiar  fragrance  was  borne  upon 
the  breeze,  as  if  a  passing  fairy  had  hiccoughed,  and  had  previously  been 
to  a  wine-vaults. 

Mrs.  Gamp  made  no  response  to  Mr.  Mould,  but  curtseyed  to  Mrs. 
Mould  again,  and  held  up  her  hands  and  eyes,  as  in  a  devout  thanks- 
giving that  she  looked  so  well.  She  was  neatly,  but  not  gaudily  attired, 
in  the  weeds  she  had  worn  when  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  the  pleasure  of 
making  her  acquaintance  j  and  was  perhaps  the  turning  of  a  scale  more 
snuffy. 

"  There  are  some  happy  creeturs,"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed,  "  as  time 
runs  back'ards  with,  and  you  are  one,  Mrs.  Mould  ;  not  that  he  need  do 
nothing  except  use  you  in  his  most  owldacious  way  for  years  to  come, 
I  'm  sure  ;  for  young  you  are  and  will  be.  I  says  to  Mrs.  Harris," 
Mrs.  Gamp  continued,  "  only  t'other  day  ;  the  last  Monday  evening 
fortnight  as  ever  dawned  upon  this  Piljian's  Projiss  of  a  mortal  wale ; 
I  says  to  Mrs.  Harris  when  she  says  to  me,  '  Years  and  our  trials,  Mrs. 
Gamp,  sets  marks  upon  us  all ' — '  Say  not  the  words,  Mrs.  Harris,  if 
you  and  me  is  to  continual  friends,  for  sech  is  not  the  case.  Mrs.  Mould,' 
I  says,  making  so  free,  I  will  confess,  as  use  the  name,"  (she  curtseyed 
here),  "  '  is  one  of  them  that  goes  agen  the  obserwation  straight ;  and 
never,  Mrs.  Harris,  whilst  I  've  a  drop  of  breath  to  draw,  will  I  set  by, 
and  not  stand  up,  don't  think  it.' — 'I  ast  your  pardon,  ma'am,' says 
Mrs.  Harris,  '  and  I  humbly  grant  your  grace  ;  for  if  ever  a  woman 
lived  as  would  see  her  feller  creeturs  into  fits  to  serve  her  friends,  well 
do  I  know  that  woman's  name  is  Sairey  Gamp.'  " 

At  this  point  she  was  fain  to  stop  for  breath  ;  and  advantage  may 
be  taken  of  the  circumstance,  to  state  that  a  fearful  mystery  surrounded 
this  lady  of  the  name  of  Harris,  whom  no  one  in  the  circle  of  Mrs. 
Gamp's  acquaintance  had  ever  seen  ;  neither  did  any  human  being 
know  her  place  of  residence,  though  Mrs.  Gamp  appeared  on  her  own 
showing  to  be  in  constant  communication  with  her.  There  were  con- 
flicting rumours  on  the  subject ;  but  the  prevalent  opinion  was  that  she 
was  a  phantom  of  Mrs.  Gamp's  brain — as  Messrs.  Doe  and  Roe  are 
fictions  of  the  law — created  for  the  express  purpose  of  holding  visionary 
dialogues  with  her  on  all  manner  of  subjects,  and  invariably  winding  up 
with  a  compliment  to  the  excellence  of  her  nature. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  305 

"  And  likeways  what  a  pleasure/'  said  Mrs.  Gamp^  turning  with  a 
tearful  smile  towards  the  daughters,  "  to  see  them  two  young  ladies  as 
I  know'd  afore  a  tooth  in  their  pretty  heads  was  cut,  and  have  many  a 
day  seen — ah,  the  sweet  creeturs  ! — playing  at  berryins  down  in  the  shop, 
and  follerin'  the  order-book  to  its  long  home  in  the  iron  safe  !  But 
that's  all  past  and  over,  Mr.  Mould  ;"  as  she  thus  got  in  a  carefully 
regulated  routine  to  that  gentleman,  she  shook  her  head  waggishly  j 
"  That's  all  past  and  over  now,  sir,  an't  it  ?" 

"  Changes,  Mrs.  Gamp,  changes  ! "  returned  the  undertaker. 

"  More  changes  too,  to  come,  afore  we  've  done  with  changes,  sir," 
said  Mrs.  Gamp,  nodding  yet  more  waggishly  than  before.  "  Young 
ladies  with  such  faces  thinks  of  something  else  besides  berryins,  don't 
they,  sir?" 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  Mould,  with  a  chuckle. 
— "  Not  bad  in  Mrs.  Gamp,  my  dear  ?" 

"Oh  yes,  you  do  know,  sir!"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "and  so' does  Mrs. 
Mould,  your  ansome  pardner  too,  sir  ;  and  so  do  I,  although  the  blessing 
of  a  daughter  was  deniged  me  ;  which,  if  we  had  had  one.  Gamp  would 
certainly  have  drunk  its  little  shoes  right  off  its  feet,  as  with  our  precious 
boy  he  did,  and  arterwards  send  the  child  a  errand  to  sell  his  wooden  leg 
for  any  money  it  would  fetch  as  matches  in  the  rough,  and  bring  it  home 
in  liquor :  which  was  truly  done  beyond  his  years,  for  ev'ry  individgle 
penny  that  child  lost  at  toss  or  buy  for  kidney  ones ;  and  come  home 
arterwards  quite  bold,  to  break  the  news,  and  oifering  to  drown  himself 
if  that  would  be  a  satisfaction  to  his  parents. — Oh  yes,  you  do  know, 
sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  wiping  her  eye  with  her  shawl,  and  resuming  the 
thread  of  her  discourse.  "  There 's  something  besides  births  and  berryins 
in  the  newspapers,  an't  there,  Mr.  Mould?" 

Mr.  Mould  winked  at  Mrs.  Mould,  whom  he  had  by  this  time  taken 
on  his  knee,  and  said  :  "  No  doubt.  A  good  deal  more,  Mrs.  Gamp. 
Upon  my  life,  Mrs.  Gamp  is  very  far  from  bad,  my  dear  !" 

"  There's  marryings,  an't  there,  sir  ?"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  while  both 
the  daughters  blushed  and  tittered.  "  Bless  their  precious  hearts,  and 
well  they  knows  it !  Well  you  know'd  it  too,  and  well  did  Mrs.  Mould, 
when  you  was  at  their  time  of  life  !  But  my  opinion  is,  you  're  all  of 
one  age  now.  I'or  as  to  you  and  Mrs.  Mould  sir,  ever  having  grand- 
children— " 

"  Oh !  Fie,  fie !  Nonsense,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  replied  the  undertaker. 
"Devilish  smart,  though.  Ca-pi-tal !" — this  was  in  a  whisper.  "My 
dear — "  aloud  again — "  Mrs,  Gamp  can  drink  a  glass  of  rum  I  dare  say. 
Sit  down  Mrs.  Gamp,  sit  down." 

Mrs.  Gamp  took  the  chair  that  was  nearest  the  door,  and  casting  up 
her  eyes  towards  the  ceiling,  feigned  to  be  wholly  insensible  to  the  fact 
of  a  glass  of  rum  being  in  preparation,  until  it  was  placed  in  her  hand 
by  one  of  the  young  ladies,  when  she  exhibited  the  greatest  surprise. 

"  A  thing,"  she  said,  "  as  hardly  ever,  Mrs.  Mould,  occurs  with  me 
unless  it  is  when  I  am  indispoged,  and  find  my  half  a  pint  of  porter  settling 
heavy  on  the  chest.  Mrs.  Harris  often  and  often  says  to  me,  '  Sairey 
Gamp,'  she  says,  '  you  raly  do  amaze  me  ! '    '  Mrs.  Harris,'  I  says  to  her, 

X 


306  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

*  why  SO  ?  Give  it  a  name,  I  beg.'  *  Telling  the  truth  then,  ma'am/ 
says  Mrs.  Harris,  '  and  shaming  him  as  shall  be  nameless  betwixt  you 
and  me,  never  did  I  think  till  I  know'd  you,  as  any  woman  could  sick- 
nurse  and  monthly  likeways,  on  the  little  that  you  takes  to  drink.'  '  Mrs. 
Harris,'  I  says  to  her,  '  none  on  us  knows  what  we  can  do  till  we  tries  ; 
and  wunst,  when  me  and  Gamp  kept  ouse,  I  thought  so  too.  But  now,' 
I  says,  '  my  half  a  pint  of  porter  fully  satisfies ;  perwisin',  Mrs.  Harris, 
that  it  is  brought  reg'lar,  and  draw'd  mild.  Whether  I  sicks  or  monthlies, 
ma'am,  I  hope  I  does  my  duty,  but  I  am  but  a  poor  woman,  and  I  earns 
my  living  hard  ;  therefore  I  do  require  it,  which  I  makes  confession,  to 
be  brought  reg'lar  and  draw'd  mild.' " 

The  precise  connexion  between  these  observations  and  the  glass  of  rum, 
did  not  appear  ;  for  Mrs.  Gamp  proposing  as  a  toast  "  The  best  of  lucks 
to  all,"  took  off  the  dram  in  quite  a  scientific  manner,  without  any 
further  remarks. 

"  And  what's  your  news,  Mrs.  Gamp?"  asked  Mould  again,  as  that  lady 
wiped  her  lips  upon  her  shawl,  and  nibbled  a  corner  oif  a  soft  biscuit, 
which  she  appeared  to  carry  in  her  pocket  as  a  provision  against  contin- 
gent drams.     "  How  's  Mr.  Chuffey  1" 

"  Mr.  Chuffey,  sir,"  she  replied,  "  is  jest  as  usual ;  he  an't  no  better 
and  he  an't  no  worse.  I  take  it  very  kind  in  the  gentleman  to  have 
wrote  up  to  you  and  said,  '  let  Mrs.  Gamp  take  care  of  him  till  I  come 
home  ;'  but  ev'ry  think  he  does  is  kind.  There  an't  a  many  like  him. 
If  there  was,  we  should  n't  want  no  churches." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  speak  to  me  about,  Mrs.  Gamp  % "  said  Mould, 
coming  to  the  point. 

"  Jest  this,  sir,"  Mrs.  Gamp  returned,  "with  thanks  to  you  for  asking. 
There  is  a  gent  sir,  at  the  Bull  in  Holborn,  as  has  been  took  ill  there, 
and  is  bad  abed.  They  have  a  day  nurse  as  was  recommended  from 
Bartholomew's  ;  and  well  I  knows  her,  Mr.  Mould,  her  name  bein'  Mrs. 
Prig,  the  best  of  creeturs.  But  she  is  otherways  engaged  at  night, 
and  they  are  in  wants  of  night- watching ;  consequent  she  says  to  them, 
having  reposed  the  greatest  friendliness  in  me  for  twenty  year,  '  The 
soberest  person  going,  and  the  best  of  blessings  in  a  sick  room,  is  Mrs. 
Gamp.  Send  a  boy  to  Kingsgate  Street,'  she  says,  '  and  snap  her  up  at 
any  price,  for  Mrs.  Gamp  is  worth  her  weight  and  more  in  goldian 
guineas.'  My  landlord  brings  the  message  down  to  me,  and  says,  '  bein' 
in  a  light  place  where  you  are,  and  this  job  promising  so  well,  why  not 
unite  the  two  1 '  '  No,  sir,'  I  says,  '  not  unbeknown  to  Mr.  Mould,  and 
therefore  do  not  think  it.  But  I  will  go  to  Mr.  Mould,'  I  says,  '  and  ast 
him,  if  you  like.' "  Here  she  looked  sideways  at  the  undertaker,  and 
came  to  a  stop. 

"  Night- watching,  eh  1 "  said  Mould,  rubbing  his  chin. 

"  From  eight  o'clock  till  eight,  sir  :  I  will  not  deceive  you,"  Mrs. 
Gamp  rejoined. 

"  And  then  go  back,  eh  V  said  Mould. 

"  Quite  free  then,  sir,  to  attend  to  Mr.  Chuffey.  His  ways  bein'  quiet, 
and  his  hours  early,  he  'd  be  abed,  sir,  nearly  all  the  time.  I  will  not 
deny,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  with  meekness,  "  that  I  am  but  a  poor  woman. 


MAETIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  307 

and  that  the  money  is  a  object,  but  do  not  let  tbat  act  upon  you, 
Mr.  Mould.  Rich  folks  may  ride  on  camels,  but  it  an't  so  easy 
for  'em  to  see  out  of  a  needle's  eye.  That  is  my  comfort,  and  I  hope 
I  knows  it." 

"  Well,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  observed  Mould,  "  I  don't  see  any  particular 
objection  to  your  earning  an  honest  penny  under  such  circumstances.  I 
should  keep  it  quiet,  I  think,  Mrs.  Gamp.  I  wouldn't  mention  it  to  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit  on  his  return,  for  instance,  unless  it  were  necessary,  or  he 
asked  you  point-blank." 

"The  very  words  was  on  my  lips,  sir,"  Mrs.  Gamp  rejoined.  "  Sup- 
poging  that  the  gent  should  die,  I  hope  I  might  take  the  liberty  of 
saying  as  I  know'd  some  one  in  the  undertaking  line,  and  yet  give  no 
offence  to  you,  sir  ? " 

"  Certainly,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  Mould,  with  much  condescension.  "  You 
may  casually  remark,  in  such  a  case,  that  we  do  the  thing  pleasantly  and 
in  a  great  variety  of  styles,  and  are  generally  considered  to  make  it  as 
agreeable  as  possible  to  the  feelings  of  the  survivors.  But  don't  obtrude 
it — don't  obtrude  it.  Easy,  easy !  My  dear,  you  may  as  well  give  Mrs. 
Gamp  a  card  or  two,  if  you  please." 

Mrs.  Gamp  received  them,  and  scenting  no  more  rum  in  the  wdnd  (for 
the  bottle  was  locked  up  again)  rose  to  take  her  departure. 

"  Wishing  ev'ry  happiness  to  this  happy  family,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
"  with  all  my  heart.  Good  arternoon,  Mrs.  Mould  !  If  I  was  Mr. 
Mould,  I  should  be  jealous  of  you,  ma'am  ;  and  I  'm  sure,  if  I  was  you, 
I  should  be  jealous  of  Mr.  Mould." 

"  Tut,  tut !  Bah,  bah  !  Go  along,  Mrs.  Gamp  !"  cried  the  delighted 
undertaker. 

"  As  to  the  young  ladies,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  dropping  a  curtsey,  "  bless 
their  sweet  looks — how  they  can  ever  reconsize  it  with  their  duties  to  be 
so  grown  up  with  such  young  parents,  it  an't  for  sech  as  me  to  give  a 
guess  at." 

"  Nonsense,  nonsense.  Be  off,  Mrs.  Gamp  ! "  cried  Mould.  But  in  the 
height  of  his  gratification,  he  actually  pinched  Mrs.  Mould,  as  he  said  it. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  what,  my  dear,"  he  observed,  when  Mrs.  Gamp  had  at 
last  withdrawn,  and  shut  the  door,  "that's  a  ve-ry  shrewd  woman. 
That 's  a  woman  whose  intellect  is  immensely  superior  to  her  station  in 
life.  That 's  a  woman  who  observes  and  reflects  in  an  uncommon  man- 
ner. She  's  the  sort  of  woman  now,"  said  Mould,  drawing  his  silk  hand- 
kerchief over  his  head  again,  and  composing  himself  for  a  nap,  "  one 
would  almost  feel  disposed  to  bury  for  nothing  :  and  do  it  neatly,  too  !" 

Mrs.  Mould  and  her  daughters  fully  concurred  in  these  remarks ;  the 
subject  of  which  had  by  this  time  reached  the  street,  where  she  expe- 
rienced so  much  inconvenience  from  the  air,  that  she  was  obliged  to  stand 
under  an  archway  for  a  short  time,  to  recover  herself.  Even  after  this 
precaution,  she  walked  so  unsteadily  as  to  attract  the  compassionate 
regards  of  divers  kind-hearted  boys,  who  took  the  liveliest  interest  in  her 
disorder ;  and  in  their  simple  language,  bade  her  be  of  good  cheer,  for 
she  was  "  only  a  little  screwed." 

Whatever  she  was,  or  whatever  name  the  vocabulary  of  medical  science 

X  2 


308  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

would  have  bestowed  upon  her  malady,  Mrs.  Gamp  was  perfectly 
acquainted  with  the  way  home  again ;  and  arriving  at  the  house  of 
Anthony  Chuzzlewit  &  Son,  lay  down  to  rest.  Remaining  there  until 
seven  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  then  persuading  poor  old  ChufFey  to 
betake  himself  to  bed,  she  sallied  forth  upon  her  new  engagement.  First, 
she  went  to  her  private  lodgings  in  Kingsgate-street,  for  a  bundle  of  robes 
and  wrappings  comfortable  in  the  night  season ;  and  then  repaired  to  the 
Bull  in  Holborn,  which  she  reached  as  the  clocks  were  striking  eight. 

As  she  turned  into  the  yard,  she  stopped ;  for  the  landlord,  landlady,  and 
head  chambermaid,  v^^ere  all  on  the  threshold  together,  talking  earnestly 
with  a  young  gentleman  who  seemed  to  have  just  come  or  to  be  just 
going  away.  The  first  words  that  struck  upon  Mrs.  Gamp's  ear  obviously 
bore  reference  to  the  patient;  and  it  being  expedient  that  all  good 
attendants  should  know  as  much  as  possible  about  the  case  on  which  their 
skill  is  brought  to  bear,  Mrs.  Gamp  listened  as  a  matter  of  duty. 

"No  better,  then?"  observed  the  gentleman. 

"Worse  !"  said  the  landlord. 

"  Much  worse,"  added  the  landlady. 

"  Oh  !  a  deal  badder,"  cried  the  chambermaid  from  the  back-ground, 
opening  her  eyes  very  wide,  and  shaking  her  head. 

"  Poor  fellow ! "  said  the  gentleman,  "  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.  The 
worst  of  it  is,  that  I  have  no  idea  what  friends  or  relations  he  has,  or 
where  they  live,  except  that  it  certainly  is  not  in  London." 

The  landlord  looked  at  the  landlady ;  the  landlady  looked  at  the  land- 
lord; and  the  chambermaid  remarked,  hysterically,  "  that  of  all  the  many 
wague  directions  she  had  ever  seen  or  heerd  of  (and  they  wasn't  few  in 
an  hotel),  that  was  the  waguest." 

"  The  fact  is,  you  see,"  pursued  the  gentleman,  "  as  I  told  you  yester- 
day when  you  sent  to  me,  I  really  know  very  little  about  him.  We 
were  schoolfellows  together ;  but  since  that  time  I  have  only  met  him 
twice.  On  both  occasions  I  was  in  London  for  a  boy's  holiday  (having 
come  up  for  a  week  or  so  from  Wiltshire),  and  lost  sight  of  him  again, 
directly.  The  letter  bearing  my  name  and  address  which  you  found 
upon  his  table,  and  which  led  to  your  applying  to  me,  is  in  answer,  you 
will  observe,  to  one  he  wrote  from  this  house  the  very  day  he  was  taken 
ill,  making  an  appointment  with  him  at  his  own  request.  Here  is  his 
letter,  if  you  wish  to  see  it." 

The  landlord  read  it :  the  landlady  looked  over  him.  The  chamber- 
maid, in  the  back-ground,  made  out  as  much  of  it  as  she  could,  and 
invented  the  rest ;  believing  it  all  from  that  time  forth  as  a  positive 
piece  of  evidence. 

"He  has  very  little  luggage,  you  say?"  observed  the  gentleman,  wha 
was  no  other  than  our  old  friend,  John  Westlock. 

"Nothing  but  a  portmanteau,"  said  the  landlord;  "and  very  little 
in  it." 

"A  few  pounds  in  his  purse,  though?" 

"  Yes.  It 's  sealed  up,  and  in  the  cash-box.  I  made  a  memorandum 
of  the  amount,  which  you  're  welcome  to  see." 

"Well  1"  said  John,  "as  the  medical  gentleman  says  the  fever  must 


MARTIN    CHTTZZLEWIT.  309 

take  Its  course,  and  notliing  can  be  done  just  now  beyond  giving  him  bis 
drinks  regularly  and  having  him  carefully  attended  to,  nothing  more 
can  be  said  that  I  know  of,  until  he  is  in  a  condition  to  give  us  some 
information.     Can  you  suggest  anything  elseT' 

"  N-no,"  replied  the  landlord,  "  except — " 

"Except,  who  's  to  pay,  I  suppose?"  said  John, 

"  Why,"  hesitated  the  landlord,  "  it  would  be  as  well." 

"  Quite  as  well,"  said  the  landlady. 

"  Not  forcrettinof  to  remember  the  servants,"  said  the  chambermaid  in 
a  bland  whisper. 

"  It  is  but  reasonable,  I  fully  admit,"  said  John  Westlock.  "  At  all 
events,  you  have  the  stock  in  hand  to  go  upon  for  the  present ;  and  I 
will  readily  undertake  to  pay  the  doctor  and  the  nurses." 

"  Ah  !"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,     "  A  rayal  gentleman  !" 

She  groaned  her  admiration  so  audibly,  that  they  all  turned  round. 
Mrs,  Gamp  felt  the  necessity  of  advancing,  bundle  in  hand,  and  intro- 
ducing herself. 

"  The  night-nurse,"  she  observed,  "from  Kingsgate-street,  well  beknown 
to  Mrs,  Prig  the  day-nurse,  and  the  best  of  creeturs.  How  is  the  poor 
dear  gentleman,  to-night  ?  If  he  an't  no  better  yet,  still  that  is  what 
must  be  expected  and  prepared  for.  It  an't  the  fust  time  by  a  many 
score,  ma'am,"  dropping  a  curtesy  to  the  landlady,  "that  Mrs,  Prig  and 
me  has  nussed  together,  turn  and  turn  about,  one  oiF,  one  on,  We 
knows  each  other's  ways,  and  often  gives  relief  when  others  fail.  Our 
charges  is  but  low,  sir  " — Mrs,  Gamp  addressed  herself  to  John  on  this 
head — "  considerin'  the  nater  of  our  painful  dooty.  If  they  wos  made 
xiccordin'  to  our  wishes,  they  would  be  easy  paid." 

Regarding  herself  as  having  now  delivered  her  inauguration  address, 
Mrs.  Gamp  curtseyed  all  round,  and  signified  her  wish  to  be  conducted 
to  the  scene  of  her  official  duties.  The  chambermaid  led  her,  through 
a  variety  of  intricate  passages,  to  the  top  of  the  house ;  and  pointing  at 
length  to  a  solitary  door  at  the  end  of  a  gallery,  informed  her  that 
yonder  was  the  chamber  where  the  patient  lay.  That  done,  she  hurried 
oflf  with  all  the  speed  she  could  make. 

Mrs,  Gamp  traversed  the  gallery  in  a  great  heat  from  having  carried 
her  large  bundle  up  so  many  stairs,  and  tapped  at  the  door,  which  was 
immediately  opened  by  Mrs,  Prig,  bonneted  and  shawled  and  all  im- 
patience to  be  gone,  Mrs,  Prig  was  of  the  Gamp  build,  but  not  so  fat  ; 
and  her  voice  was  deeper  and  more  like  a  man's.     She  had  also  a  beard* 

"  I  began  to  think  you  warn't  a  coming  1 "  Mrs.  Prig  observed,  in 
some  displeasure. 

"  It  shall  be  made  good  to-morrow  night,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "honor- 
able. I  had  to  go  and  fetch  my  things,"  She  had  begun  to  make 
signs  of  enquiry  in  reference  to  the  position  of  the  patient  and  his 
-overhearing  them — for  there  was  a  screen  before  the  door — when  Mrs. 
Prig  settled  that  point  easily. 

"  Oh  !"  she  said  aloud,  "  he's  quiet,  but  his  wits  is  gone.  It  an't 
no  matter  wot  you  say." 

"  Anythin'  to  tell  afore  you  goes,  my  dear  1 "  asked   Mrs,  Gamp, 


310  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES   OP 

setting  lier  bundle  down  inside  the  door,  and  looking  aifectionately  at 
her  partner. 

"  The  pickled  salmon,"  Mrs.  Prig  replied,  "  is  quite  delicious.  I 
can  partick'ler  recommend  it.  Don't  have  nothink  to  say  to  the  cold 
meat,  for  it  tastes  of  the  stable.     The  drinks  is  all  good." 

Mrs.  Gamp  expressed  herself  much  gratified. 

"  The  physic  and  them  things  is  on  the  drawers  and  mankleshelf," 
said  Mrs.  Prig,  cursorily.  "  He  took  his  last  slime  draught  at  seven. 
The  easy-chair  an't  soft  enough.     You  '11  want  his  piller." 

Mrs.  Gamp  thanked  her  for  these  hints,  and  giving  her  a  friendly 
good  night,  held  the  door  open  until  she  had  disappeared  at  the  other 
end  of  the  gallery.  Having  thus  performed  the  hospitable  duty  of 
seeing  her  safely  off,  she  shut  it,  locked  it  on  the  inside,  took  up  her 
bundle,  walked  round  the  screen,  and  entered  on  her  occupation  of  the 
sick  chamber. 

"  A  little  dull,  but  not  so  bad  as  might  be,"  Mrs.  Gamp  remarked. 
"  I  'm  glad  to  see  a  parapidge,  in  case  of  fire,  and  lots  of  roofs  and 
chimley-pots  to  walk  upon." 

It  will  be  seen  from  these  remarks  that  Mrs.  Gamp  was  looking  out 
of  window.  AVhen  she  had  exhausted  the  prospect,  she  tried  the  easy- 
chair,  which  she  indignantly  declared  was  "  harder  than  a  brickbadge." 
Next  she  pursued  her  researches  among  the  physic-bottles,  glasses, 
jugs,  and  tea-cups  ;  and  when  she  had  entirely  satisfied  her  curiosity 
on  all  these  subjects  of  investigation,  she  untied  her  bonnet-strings  and 
strolled  up  to  the  bedside  to  take  a  look  at  the  patient. 

A  young  man — dark  and  not  ill-looking — with  long  black  hair,  that 
seemed  the  blacker  for  the  whiteness  of  the  bed-clothes.  His  eyes  were 
partly  open,  and  he  never  ceased  to  roll  his  head  from  side  to  side  upon 
the  pillow,  keeping  his  body  almost  quiet.  He  did  not  utter  words  ; 
but  every  now  and  then  gave  vent  to  an  expression  of  impatience  or 
fatigue,  sometimes  of  surprise  ;  and  still  his  restless  head — oh,  weary, 
weary  hour  ! — went  to  and  fro  without  a  moment's  intermission. 

Mrs.  Gamp  solaced  herself  with  a  pinch  of  snuff,  and  stood  looking  at 
him  with  her  head  inclined  a  little  sideways,  as  a  connoisseur  might 
gaze  upon  a  doubtful  work  of  art.  By  degrees,  a  horrible  remembrance 
of  one  branch  of  her  calling  took  possession  of  the  woman  ;  and  stoop- 
ing down,  she  pinned  his  wandering  arms  against  his  sides,  to  see  how 
he  would  look  if  laid  out  as  a  dead  man.  Hideous  as  it  may  appear,  her 
fingers  itched  to  compose  his  limbs  in  that  last  marble  attitude. 

"Ah  !"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  walking  away  from  the  bed,  "he'd  make 
a  lovely  corpse  !  " 

She  now  proceeded  to  unpack  her  bundle  ;  lighted  a  candle  with  the 
aid  of  a  fire-box  on  the  drawers ;  filled  a  small  kettle,  as  a  preliminary 
to  refreshing  herself  with  a  cup  of  tea  in  the  course  of  the  night ;  laid 
what  she  called  "  a  little  bit  of  fire,"  for  the  same  philanthropic  pur- 
pose j  and  also  set  forth  a  small  teaboard,  that  nothing  might  be  wanting 
for  her  comfortable  enjoyment.  These  preparations  occupied  so  long, 
that  when  they  were  brought  to  a  conclusion  it  was  high  time  to  think 
about  supper  j  so  she  rang  the  bell  and  ordered  it. 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  311 

"  I  think,  young  woman,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  to  tlie  assistant  chamber- 
maid, in  a  tone  expressive  of  weakness,  "  that  I  could  pick  a  little  bit 
of  pickled  salmon,  with  a  nice  little  sprig  of  fennel,  and  a  sprinkling 
of  white  pepper.  I  takes  new  bread,  my  dear,  with  jest  a  little  pat  of 
fresh  butter,  and  a  mossel  of  cheese.  In  case  there  should  be  such  a 
thing  as  a  cowcumber  in  the  'ouse,  will  you  be  so  kind  as  bring  it, 
for  I  'm  rather  partial  to  'em,  and  they  does  a  world  of  good  in  a  sick 
room.  If  they  draws  the  Brighton  Tipper  here,  I  takes  that  ale  at 
night,  my  love  ;  it  bein'  considered  wakeful  by  the  doctors.  And 
whatever  you  do,  young  woman,  don't  bring  more  than  a  shilling's- 
worth  of  gin  and  water  warm  when  I  rings  the  bell  a  second  time  :  for 
that  is  always  my  allowance,  and  I  never  takes  a  drop  beyond  !  " 

Having  preferred  these  moderate  requests,  Mrs.  Gamp  observed  that 
she  would  stand  at  the  door  until  the  order  was  executed,  to  the  end 
that  the  patient  might  not  be  disturbed  by  her  opening  it  a  second 
time ;  and  therefore  she  would  thank  the  young  woman  to  "  look 
sharp." 

A  tray  was  brought  with  everything  upon  it,  even  to  the  cucumber  ; 
and  Mrs.  Gamp  accordingly  sat  down  to  eat  and  drink  in  high  good 
humour.  The  extent  to  which  she  availed  herself  of  the  vinegar,  and 
supped  up  that  refreshing  fluid  with  the  blade  of  her  knife,  can  scarcely 
be  expressed  in  narrative. 

"  Ah  !  "  sighed  Mrs.  Gamp,  as  she  meditated  over  the  warm  shilling's- 
worth,  "  what  a  blessed  thing  it  is — living  in  a  wale — to  be  contented  ! 
What  a  blessed  thing  it  is  to  make  sick  people  happy  in  their  beds,  and 
never  mind  one's  self  as  long  as  one  can  do  a  service  !  I  don't  believe 
a  finer  cowcumber  was  ever  grow'd.     I  'm  sure  I  never  see  one  !  " 

She  moralised  in  the  same  vein  until  her  glass  was  empty,  and  then 
administered  the  patient's  medicine,  by  the  simple  process  of  clutching 
his  windpipe  to  make  him  gasp,  and  immediately  pouring  it  down  his 
throat. 

"  I  a'most  forgot  the  piller,  I  declare  ! "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  drawing  it 
away.  "  There  !  Now  he  's  as  comfortable  as  he  can  be,  /  'm  sure  !  I 
must  try  to  make  myself  as  much  so  as  I  can." 

With  this  view,  she  went  about  the  construction  of  an  extemporaneous 
bed  in  the  easy-chair,  with  the  addition  of  the  next  easy  one  for  her 
feet.  Having  formed  the  best  couch  that  the  circumstances  admitted  of, 
she  took  out  of  her  bundle  a  yellow  nightcap,  of  prodigious  size,  in 
shape  resembling  a  cabbage  ;  which  article  of  dress  she  fixed  and  tied 
on  with  the  utmost  care,  previously  divesting  herself  of  a  row  of  bald 
old  curls  that  could  scarcely  be  called  false,  they  were  so  very  innocent 
of  anything  approaching  to  deception.  From  the  same  repository  she 
brought  forth  a  night-jacket,  in  which  she  also  attired  herself  Finally, 
she  produced  a  watchman's  coat,  which  she  tied  round  her  neck  by  the 
sleeves,  so  that  she  became  two  people  ;  and  looked,  behind,  as  if  she 
were  in  the  act  of  being  embraced  by  one  of  the  old  patrol. 

All  these  arrangements  made,  she  lighted  the  rushlight,  coiled  herself 
up  on  her  couch,  and  went  to  sleep.  Ghostly  and  dark  the  room  became, 
and  full  of  lowering  shadows.     The  distant  noises  in  the  streets  were 


312  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES   OP 

gradually  hushed  ;  the  house  was  quiet  as  a  sepulchre ;  the  dead  of 
night  was  coffined  in  the  silent  city. 

Oh,  weary,  weary  hour  !  Oh,  haggard  mind,  groping  darkly  through 
the  past ;  incapable  of  detaching  itself  from  the  miserable  present ; 
dragging  its  heavy  chain  of  care  through  imaginary  feasts  and  revels,  and 
scenes  of  awful  pomp  ;  seeking  but  a  moment's  rest  among  the  long- 
forgotten  haunts  of  childhood,  and  the  resorts  of  yesterday  ;  and  dimly 
finding  fear  and  horror  everywhere  !  Oh,  weary,  weary  hour  !  What 
were  the  wanderings  of  Cain,  to  these  ! 

Still,  without  a  moment's  interval,  the  burning  head  tossed  to  and 
fro.  Still,  from  time  to  time,  fatigue,  impatience,  suiFering,  and  surprise, 
found  utterance  upon  that  rack,  and  plainly  too,  though  never  once  in 
words.  At  length,  in  the  solemn  hour  of  midnight,  he  began  to  talk  ; 
waiting  awfully  for  answers  sometimes  ;  as  though  invisible  companions 
were  about  his  bed  ;  and  so  replying  to  their  speech  and  questioning  again. 

Mrs.  Gamp  awoke,  and  sat  up  in  her  bed  :  presenting  on  the  wall  the 
shadow  of  a  gigantic  night  constable,  struggling  with  a  prisoner. 

"  Come  !  Hold  your  tongue ! "  she  cried,  in  sharp  reproof.  "  Don't 
make  none  of  that  noise  here." 

There  was  no  alteration  in  the  face,  or  in  the  incessant  motion  of  the 
head,  but  he  talked  on  wildly. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  coming  out  of  the  chair  with  an  impatient 
shiver  ;  "  I  thought  I  was  a  sleepin'  too  pleasant  to  last !  The  devil 's 
in  the  night,  I  think,  it's  turned  so  chilly." 

"  Don't  drink  so  much  !  "  cried  the  sick  man.  "  You  '11  ruin  us  all. 
Don't  you  see  how  the  fountain  sinks  1  Look  at  the  mark  where  the 
sparkling  water  was  just  now  !  " 

"  Sparkling  water  indeed  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  I  '11  have  a  sparkling 
cup  o'  tea,  I  think.     I  wish  you  'd  hold  your  noise  !  " 

He  burst  into  a  laugh,  which,  being  prolonged,  fell  off  into  a  dismal 
wail.    Checking  himself,  with  fierce  inconstancy  he  began  to  count — fast. 

"  One — two — three — four — five — six." 

"  '  One,  two,  buckle  my  shoe,' "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  who  was  now  on  her 
knees,  lighting  the  fire,  "  ^ three,  four,  shut  the  door' — I  wish  you  'd  shut 
your  mouth,  young  man — '  five,  six,  picking  up  sticks.'  If  I  'd  got  a 
few  handy,  I  should  have  the  kettle  biling  all  the  sooner." 

Awaiting  this  desirable  consummation,  she  sat  down  so  close  to  the 
fender  (which  was  a  high  one)  that  her  nose  rested  upon  it ;  and  for 
some  time  she  drowsily  amused  herself  by  sliding  that  feature  backwards 
and  forwards  along  the  brass  top,  as  far  as  she  could,  without  changing 
her  position  to  do  it.  She  maintained,  all  the  while,  a  running  com- 
mentary upon  the  wanderings  of  the  man  in  bed. 

"  That  makes  five  hundred  and  twenty-one  men,  all  dressed  alike, 
and  with  the  same  distortion  on  their  faces,  that  have  passed  in  at  the 
window,  and  out  at  the  door,"  he  cried,  anxiously.  "  Look  there  !'  Five 
hundred  and  twenty-two — twenty-three — twenty-four.  Do  you  see 
them  ! " 

"  Ah  !  I  see  'em,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  "  all  the  whole  kit  of  'em 
numbered  like  hackney-coaches — an't  they  1 " 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  313 

"  Toucli  me  !     Let  me  be  sure  of  this.     Touch  me  !" 

"  You  '11  take  your  next  draught  when  I  've  made  the  kettle  bile," 
retorted  Mrs.  Gamp,  composedly,  "  and  you  '11  be  touched  then.  You  'II 
be  touched  up,  too,  if  you  don't  take  it  quiet." 

"  Five  hundred  and  twenty-eight,  five  hundred  and  twenty-nine,  five 
hundred  and  thirty. — Look  here  1" 

"  What 's  the  matter  now?"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  They  're  coming  four  abreast,  each  man  with  his  arm  entwined  in  the 
next  man's,  and  his  hand  upon  his  shoulder.  What 's  that  upon  the 
arm  of  every  man,  and  on  the  flag'?" 

"  Spiders,  p'raps,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"Crape  !     Black  crape  !     Good  God  !  why  do  they  wear  it  outside  1" 

"  Would  you  have  'em  carry  black  crape  in  their  insides?"  Mrs.  Gamp 
retorted.     "  Hold  your  noise,  hold  your  noise." 

The  fire  beginning  by  this  time  to  impart  a  grateful  warmth,  Mrs. 
Gamp  became  silent ;  gradually  rubbed  her  nose  more  and  more  slowly 
along  the  top  of  the  fender  ;  and  fell  into  a  heavy  doze.  She  was  awakened 
by  the  room  ringing  (as  she  fancied)  with  a  name  she  knew : 

"Chuzzlewit!" 

The  sound  was  so  distinct  and  real,  and  so  full  of  agonised  entreaty, 
that  Mrs.  Gamp  jumped  up  in  terror,  and  ran  to  the  door.  She  expected 
to  find  the  passage  filled  with  people,  come  to  tell  her  that  the  house  ia 
the  city  had  taken  fire.  But  the  place  was  empty :  not  a  soul  was 
there.  She  opened  the  window,  and  looked  out.  Dark,  dull,  dingy, 
and  desolate  house-tops.  As  she  passed  to  her  seat  again,  she  glanced  at 
the  patient.  Just  the  same  ;  but  silent.  Mrs.  Gamp  was  so  warm  now, 
that  she  threw  ofi"  the  watchman's  coat,  and  fanned  herself. 

"  It  seemed  to  make  the  wery  bottles  ring,"  she  said.  "  What  could  I 
have  been  a-dreaming  of?     That  dratted  Chuffey,  I  '11  be  bound." 

The  supposition  was  probable  enough.  At  any  rate,  a  pinch  of  snufF, 
and  the  song  of  the  steaming  kettle,  quite  restored  the  tone  of  Mrs.  Gamp's 
nerves,  which  were  none  of  the  weakest.  She  brewed  her  tea ;  made 
some  buttered  toast  j  and  sat  down  at  the  tea-board,  with  her  face  to  the 
fire. 

When  once  asrain,  in  a  tone  more  terrible  than  that  which  had  vibrated 
in  her  slumbering  ear,  these  words  were  shrieked  out  : 

"Chuzzlewit!     Jonas!     No!" 

Mrs.  Gamp  dropped  the  cup  she  was  in  the  act  of  raising  to  her  lips, 
and  turned  round  with  a  start  that  made  the  little  teaboard  leap.  The 
cry  had  come  from  the  bed. 

It  was  bright  morning  the  next  time  Mrs.  Gamp  looked  out  of  window, 
and  the  sun  was  rising  cheerfully.  Lighter  and  lighter  grew  the  sky,  and 
noisier  the  streets  ;  and  high  into  the  summer  air  uprose  the  smoke  of 
newly  kindled  fires,  until  the  busy  day  was  broad  awake. 

Mrs.  Prig  relieved  punctually,  having  passed  a  good  night  at  her  other 
patient's.  Mr.  Westlock  came  at  the  same  time,  but  he  was  not  admitted, 
the  disorder  being  infectious.  The  doctor  came  too.  The  doctor  shook  his 
head.  It  was  all  he  could  do,  under  the  circumstances,  and  he  did  it  well. 

"  What  sort  of  a  night,  nurse  1" 


314  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES   OF 

"  Restless,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Talk  mucli  V 

"  Middling,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Nothing  to  the  purpose,  I  suppose  ]" 

"  Oh  bless  you  no,  sir.     Only  jargon." 

"  Well !"  said  the  doctor,  "  we  must  keep  him  quiet ;  keep  the  room 
cool ;  give  him  his  draughts  regularly  j  and  see  that  he 's  carefully  looked 
to.     That's  all !" 

"  And  as  long  as  Mrs.  Prig  and  me  waits  upon  him,  sir,  no  fear  of  that," 
said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  I  suppose,"  observed  Mrs.  Prig,  when  they  had  curtsied  the  doctor 
out  :  "  there 's  nothin'  new  ?" 

''•^^  "  Nothin'  at  all,  my. dear,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "He's  rather  wearin' 
in  his  talk  from  making  up  a  lot  of  names ;  elseways  you  need  n't 
mind  him." 

"  Oh,  I  shan't  mind  him,"  Mrs.  Prig  returned.  "  I  have  somethin'  else 
to  think  of." 

"  I  pays  my  debts  to-night,  you  know,  my  dear,  and  comes  afore  my 
time,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  But  Betsey  Prig " — speaking  with  great 
feeling,  and  laying  her  hand  upon  her  arm — "  try  the  cowcumbers,  God 
bless  you ! " 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


AN   UNEXPECTED    MEETING,    AND    A    PROMISING   PROSPECT. 

The  laws  of  sympathy  between  beards  and  birds,  and  the  secret 
source  of  that  attraction  which  frequently  impels  a  shaver  of  the  one  to 
be  a  dealer  in  the  other,  are  questions  for  the  subtle  reasoning  of 
scientific  bodies  :  not  the  less  so,  because  their  investigation  would 
seem  calculated  to  lead  to  no  particular  result.  It  is  enough  to  know 
that  the  artist  who  had  the  honour  of  entertaining  Mrs.  Gamp  as  his 
first-floor  lodger,  united  the  two  pursuits  of  barbering  and  bird-fancying  ; 
and  that  it  was  not  an  original  idea  of  his,  but  one  in  which  he  had, 
dispersed  about  the  bye-streets  and  suburbs  of  the  town,  a  host  of  rivals. 

The  name  of  this  householder  was  Paul  Sweedlepipe.  But  he  was 
commonly  called  Poll  Sweedlepipe  ;  and  was  not  uncommonly  believed 
to  have  been  so  christened,  among  his  friends  and  neighbours. 

With  the  exception  of  the  staircase,  and  his  lodger's  private  apart- 
ment. Poll  Sweedlepipe's  house  was  one  great  bird's  nest.  Game-cocks 
resided  in  the  kitchen  ;  pheasants  wasted  the  brightness  of  their  golden 
plumage  on  the  garret ;  bantams  roosted  in  the  cellar  ;  owls  had  pos- 
session of  the  bed-room  ;  and  specimens  of  all  the  smaller  fry  of  birds 
chirrupped  and  twittered  in  the  shop.  The  staircase  was  sacred  to 
rabbits.  There,  in  hutches  of  all  shapes  and  kinds,  made  from  old 
packing-cases,  boxes,  drawers,  and  tea-chests,  they  increased  in  a  prodi- 
gious degree,    and  contributed  their  share  towards  that  complicated 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  315 

whifF  wtlcli,  quite  impartially,  and  without  distinction  of  persons, 
saluted  every  nose  that  "was  put  into  Sweedlepipe's  easy  shaving- 
shop. 

Many  noses  found  their  way  there,  for  all  that,  especially  on  a  Sunday 
morning,  before  church-time.  Even  Archbishops  shave,  or  must  be 
shaved,  on  a  Sunday,  and  beards  icill  grow  after  twelve  o'clock  on 
Saturday  night,  though  it  be  upon  the  chins  of  base  mechanics  :  who, 
not  being  able  to  engage  their  valets  by  the  quarter,  hire  them  by  the 
job,  and  pay  them — -oh,  the  wickedness  of  copper  coin  ! — in  dirty  pence. 
Poll  Sweedlepipe,  the  sinner,  shaved  all  comers  at  a  penny  each,  and 
cut  the  hair  of  any  customer  for  twopence  ;  and  being  a  lone  unmarried 
man,  and  having  some  connection  in  the  bird  line,  Poll  got  on  tolerably 
well. 

He  was  a  little  elderly  man,  with  a  clammy  cold  right  hand,  from 
which  even  rabbits  and  birds  could  not  remove  the  smell  of  shaving- 
soap.  Poll  had  something  of  the  bird  in  his  nature  ;  not  of  the  hawk 
or  eagle,  but  of  the  sparrow,  that  builds  in  chimney-stacks,  and  inclines 
to  human  company.  He  was  not  quarrelsome,  though,  like  the  sparrow  j 
but  peaceful,  like  the  dove.  In  his  walk  he  strutted ;  and,  in  this  respect, 
he  bore  a  faint  resemblance  to  the  pigeon,  as  well  as  in  a  certain  prosi- 
ness  of  speech,  which  might,  in  its  monotony,  be  likened  to  the  cooing 
of  that  bird.  He  was  very  inquisitive  ;  and  when  he  stood  at  his 
shop-door  in  the  evening-tide,  watching  the  neighbours,  with  his  head 
on  one  side,  and  his  eye  cocked  knowingly,  there  was  a  dash  of  the  raven 
in  him.  Yet,  there  was  no  more  wickedness  in  Poll  than  in  a  robin. 
Happily,  too,  when  any  of  his  ornithological  properties  were  on  the  verge 
of  going  too  far,  they  were  quenched,  dissolved,  melted  down,  and 
neutralised  in  the  barber  ;  just  as  his  bald  head — otherwise,  as  the  head 
of  a  shaved  magpie — lost  itself  in  a  wig  of  curly  black  ringlets,  parted 
on  one  side,  and  cut  away  almost  to  the  crown,  to  indicate  immense 
capacity  of  intellect. 

Poll  had  a  very  small,  shrill,  treble  voice,  which  might  have  led  the 
wags  of  Kingsgate  Street  to  insist  the  more  upon  his  feminine  designa- 
tion. He  had  a  tender  heart,  too  ;  for,  when  he  had  a  good  commis- 
sion to  provide  three  or  four  score  sparrows  for  a  shooting-match,  he 
would  observe,  in  a  compassionate  tone,  how  singular  it  was  that 
sparrows  should  have  been  made  expressly  for  such  purposes.  The 
question,  whether  men  were  made  to  shoot  them,  never  entered  into 
Poll's  philosophy. 

Poll  wore,  in  his  sporting  character,  a  velveteen  coat,  a  great  deal  of 
blue  stocking,  ankle  boots,  a  neckerchief  of  some  bright  colour,  and 
a  very  tall  hat.  Pursuing  his  more  quiet  occupation  of  barber,  he 
generally  subsided  into  an  apron  not  over-clean,  a  flannel  jacket,  and 
corduroy  knee-shorts.  It  vras  in  this  latter  costume,  but  with  his  apron 
girded  round  his  waist,  as  a  token  of  his  having  shut  up  shop  for  the 
night,  that  he  closed  the  door  one  evening,  some  weeks  after  the  occur- 
rences detailed  in  the  last  chapter,  and  stood  upon  the  steps,  in  Kings- 
gate  Street,  listening  until  the  little  cracked  bell  within  should  leave 
off  ringing.  For,  until  it  did — this  was  Mr.  Sweedlepipe's  reflection — 
the  place  never  seemed  quiet  enough  to  be  left  to  itself. 


316  LIFE   AND   ADYENTUEES    OP 

"  It's  the  greediest  little  bell  to  ring,"  said  Poll,  "  that  ever  was. 
But  it's  quiet  at  last." 

He  rolled  his  apron  up  a  little  tighter  as  he  said  these  words,  and 
hastened  down  the  street.  Just  as  he  was  turning  into  Holborn,  he  ran 
against  a  young  gentleman  in  a  livery.  This  youth  was  bold,  though 
small,  and,  with  several  lively  expressions  of  displeasure,  turned  upon  him 
instantly. 

"Now,  Stoo-PiD !"  cried  the  young  gentleman.  "Can't  you  look 
where  you  're  a  going  to — eh  1  Can't  you  mind  where  you  're  a  coming 
to — eh  ?  What  do  you  think  your  eyes  was  made  for — eh  1  Ah  !  Yes. 
Oh!     Now  then!" 

The  young  gentleman  pronounced  the  two  last  words  in  a  very  loud 
tone  and  with  frightful  emphasis,  as  though  they  contained  within  them- 
selves the  essence  of  the  direst  aggravation.  But  he  had  scarcely  done  so, 
when  his  anger  yielded  to  surprise,  and  he  cried,  in  a  milder  tone  : 

"What!     Polly!" 

"  Why  it  an't  you,  sure  !"  cried  Poll.     "  It  can't  be  you  !" 

"  No.  It  an't  me,"  returned  the  youth.  "  It 's  my  son  :  my  oldest 
one.  He's  a  credit  to  his  father;  ain't  he,  Polly?"  With  this  delicate 
little  piece  of  banter,  he  halted  on  the  pavement,  and  went  round  and 
round  in  circles,  for  the  better  exhibition  of  his  figure  :  rather  to  the  in- 
convenience of  the  passengers  generally,  who  were  not  in  an  equal  state 
of  spirits  with  himself. 

"I  wouldn't  have  believed  it,"  said  Poll.  "What!  You've  left 
your  old  place,  then  1     Have  you  1 " 

"  Have  I !"  returned  his  young  friend,  who  had  by  this  time  stuck  his 
hands  into  the  pockets  of  his  white  cord  breeches,  and  was  swaggering 
along  at  the  barber's  side.  "  D'ye  know  a  pair  of  top-boots  when  you 
gee  'em,  Polly? — look  here  !" 

"Beau-ti-ful !"  cried  Mr.  Sweedlepipe. 

"D'ye  know  a  slap-up  sort  of  button,  w^hen  you  see  it?"  said  the 
youth.  "  Don't  look  at  mine,  if  you  ain't  a  judge,  because  these  lions' 
heads  was  made  for  men  of  taste  :  not  snobs." 

"Beau-ti-ful!"  cried  the  barber  again.  "  A  grass-green  frock-coat, 
too,  bound  with  gold  !  and  a  cockade  in  your  hat." 

"  /  should  hope  so,"  replied  the  youth.  "  Blow  the  cockade,  though  ; 
for,  except  that  it  don't  turn  round,  its  like  the  wentilator  that  used  to 
be  in  the  kitchin  winder  at  Todgers's.  You  ain't  seen  the  old  lady's 
name  in  the  Gazette,  have  you  ?" 

"  No,"  returned  the  barber.     "  Is  she  a  bankrupt  ?" 

"  If  she  ain't,  she  will  be,"  retorted  Bailey.  "  That  bis'ness  never  can 
be  carried  on  without  77ie.     Well !     How  are  you?" 

"  Oh  !  I'm  pretty  well,"  said  Poll.  "Are  you  living  at  this  end  of 
the  town,  or  were  you  coming  to  see  me  ?  Was  that  the  bis'ness  that 
brought  you  to  Holborn  ? " 

"  I  haven't  got  no  bis'ness  in  Holborn,"  returned  Bailey,  with  some 
displeasure.  "  All  my  bis'ness  lays  at  the  West  End.  I've  got  the 
right  sort  of  Governor  now.  You  can't  see  his  face  for  his  whiskers,  and 
can't  see  his  whiskers  for  the  dye  upon  'em.  That's  a  gentleman,  a'nt 
it  1    You  wouldn't  like  a  ride  in  a  cab,  would  you  ?     Why,  it  wouldn't 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  317 

be  safe  to  offer  it.     You'd  faint  away,  only  to  see  me  a  comin'  at  a  mild 
trot  round  the  corner." 

To  convey  a  slight  idea  of  the  effect  of  this  approach,  Mr.  Bailey  coun- 
terfeited in  his  own  person  the  action  of  a  high-trotting  horse,  and  threw 
up  his  head  so  high,  in  backing  against  a  pump,  that  he  shook  his  hat  off. 

"  Why,  he's  own  uncle  to  Capricorn,"  said  Bailey,  "  and  brother  to 
Cauliflower.  He 's  been  through  the  winders  of  two  chancy  shops  since 
we've  had  him,  and  wos  sold  for  killin'  his  missis.  That's  a  horse, 
I  hope?" 

"  Ah  !  you  '11  never  want  to  buy  any  more  red-polls,  now,"  observed 
Poll,  looking  on  his  young  friend  with  an  air  of  melancholy.  "  You  '11 
never  want  to  buy  any  more  red-polls  now,  to  hang  up  over  the  sink, 
will  you  V 

"  /  should  think  not,"  replied  Bailey.  "  Reether  so.  I  wouldn't 
have  nothin'  to  say  to  any  bird  below  a  Peacock ;  and  he  'd  be  wulgar. 
Well,  how  are  you  V 

"  Oh  !  I  'm  pretty  well,"  said  Poll.  He  answered  the  question  again 
because  Mr.  Bailey  asked  it  again  ;  Mr.  Bailey  asked  it  again,  because — 
accompanied  with  a  straddling  action  of  the  white  cords,  a  bend  of  the 
knees,  and  a  striking-forth  of  the  top-boots — it  was  an  easy,  horse-fleshy, 
turfy  sort  of  thing  to  do. 

"Wot  are  you  up  to,  old  feller?"  asked  Mr.  Bailey,  with  the  same 
graceful  rakishness.  He  was  quite  the  man-about-town  of  the  conversa- 
tion, while  the  easy-shaver  was  the  child. 

"  Why,  I  am  going  to  fetch  my  lodger  home,"  said  Paul. 

"  A  woman  !"  cried  Mr.  Bailey,  "  for  a  twenty-pun'  note  !  " 

The  little  barber  hastened  to  explain  that  she  was  neither  a  young 
woman,  nor  a  handsome  woman,  but  a  nurse,  who  had  been  acting  as  a 
kind  of  housekeeper  to  a  gentleman  for  some  weeks  past,  and  left  her 
place  that  night,  in  consequence  of  being  superseded  by  another  and  a 
more  legitimate  housekeeper  :  to  wit,  the  gentleman's  bride. 

"  He  's  newly-married,  and  he  brings  his  young  wife  home  to-night," 
said  the  barber.  "  So  I  'm  going  to  fetch  my  lodger  away — Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit's,  close  behind  the  Post-office — and  carry  her  box  for  her." 

"Jonas  Chuzzlewit's  ?"  said  Bailey. 

"  Ah  1 "  returned  Paul  :  "  that 's  the  name,  sure  enough.  Do  you 
know  him?" 

"Oh,  no  !"  cried  Mr.  Bailey;  "not  at  all.  And  I  don't  know  her? 
Not  neither  ?    Why,  they  first  kept  company  through  me,  a'most." 

"Ah?"  said  Paul. 

"Ah  !"  said  Mr.  Bailey,  with  a  wink;  "and  she  ain't  bad-looking, 
mind  you.  But  her  sister  was  the  best.  She  was  the  merry  one.  I 
often  used  to  have  a  bit  of  fun  with  her,  in  the  hold  times  !" 

Mr.  Bailey  spoke  as  if  he  already  had  a  leg  and  three-quarters  in  the 
grave,  and  this  had  happened  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago.  Paul 
Sweedlepipe,  the  meek,  was  so  perfectly  confounded  by  his  precocious  self- 
possession,  and  his  patronising  manner,  as  well  as  by  his  boots,  cockade, 
and  livery,  that  a  mist  swam  before  his  eyes,  and  he  saw — not  the  Bailey  of 
acknowledged  juvenility,  from  Todgers's  Commercial  Boarding  House, 


318  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES   OF 

who  had  made  his  acquaintance  within  a  twelvemonth,  by  purchasing,  at 
sundry  times,  small  birds  at  twopence  each — but  a  highly-condensed 
embodiment  of  all  the  sporting  grooms  in  London ;  an  abstract  of  all  the 
stable-knowledge  of  the  time  ;  a  something  at  a  high-pressure  that  must 
have  had  existence  many  years,  and  was  fraught  with  terrible  experiences. 
And  truly,  though  in  the  cloudy  atmosphere  of  Todgers's  Mr.  Bailey's  ge- 
nius had  ever  shone  out  brightly  in  this  particular  respect,  it  now  eclipsed 
both  time  and  space,  cheated  beholders  of  their  senses,  and  worked 
on  their  belief  in  defiance  of  all  natural  laws.  He  walked  along  the 
tangible  and  real  stones  of  Holborn-hill,  an  under-sized  boy;  and  yet  he 
winked  the  winks,  and  thought  the  thoughts,  and  did  the  deeds,  and 
said  the  sayings,  of  an  ancient  man.  There  was  an  old  principle  within 
him,  and  a  young  surface  without.  He  became  an  inexplicable  creature  ; 
a  breeched  and  booted  Sphinx.  There  was  no  course  open  to  the 
barber  but  to  go  distracted  himself,  or  to  take  Bailey  for  granted  :  and 
he  wisely  chose  the  latter. 

Mr.  Bailey  was  good  enough  to  continue  to  bear  him  company,  and 
to  entertain  him,  as  they  went,  with  easy  conversation  on  various 
sporting  topics ;  especially  on  the  comparative  merits,  as  a  general  prin- 
ciple, of  horses  with  white  stockings,  and  horses  without.  In  regard 
to  the  style  of  tail  to  be  preferred,  Mr.  Bailey  had  opinions  of  his  own, 
which  he  explained,  but  begged  they  might  by  no  means  influence  his 
friends,  as  here  he  knew  he  had  the  misfortune  to  differ  from  some 
excellent  authorities.  He  treated  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  to  a  dram,  compounded 
agreeably  to  his  own  directions,  which  he  informed  him  had  been  invented 
by  a  member  of  the  Jockey  Club  ;  and,  as  they  were  by  this  time  near 
the  barber  s  destination,  he  observed  that,  as  he  had  an  hour  to  spare,  and 
knew  the  parties,  he  would,  if  quite  agreeable,  be  introduced  to  Mrs.  Gamp. 

Paul  knocked  at  Jonas  Chuzzlewit's  ;  and,  on  the  door  being  opened 
by  that  lady,  made  the  two  distinguished  persons  known  to  one  another. 
It  was  a  happy  feature  in  Mrs.  Gamp's  twofold  profession,  that  it  gave 
her  an  interest  in  everything  that  was  young  as  well  as  in  everything  that 
was  old.     She  received  Mr.  Bailey  with  much  kindness. 

"  It 's  very  good,  I  'm  sure,  of  you  to  come,"  she  said  to  her  landlord, 
"  as  well  as  bring  so  nice  a  friend.  But  I  'm  afraid  that  I  must  trouble 
you  so  far  as  to  step  in,  for  the  young  couple  has  not  yet  made 
appearance." 

"  They 're  late,  ain't  they?"  inquired  her  landlord,  when  she  had 
conducted  them  down  stairs  into  the  kitchen. 

"  Well,  sir,  considerin'  the  Wings  of  Love,  they  are,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

Mr.  Bailey  inquired  whether  the  Wings  of  Love  had  ever  won  a 
plate,  or  could  be  backed  to  do  anything  remarkable  ;  and  being  in- 
formed that  it  was  not  a  horse,  but  merely  a  poetical  or  figurative 
expression,  evinced  considerable  disgust.  Mrs.  Gamp  was  so  very  much 
astonished  by  his  affable  manners  and  great  ease,  that  she  was  about  to 
propound  to  her  landlord  in  a  whisper  the  staggering  inquiry,  whether 
he  was  a  man  or  a  boy,  when  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  anticipating  her  design, 
made  a  timely  diversion. 

"  He  knows  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Paul  aloud. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  319 

"  There 's  nothin'  he  don't  know  ;  that 's  my  opinion,"  observed  Mrs. 
Gamp.     "  All  the  wickedness  of  the  world  is  Print  to  him." 

Mr.  Bailey  received  this  as  a  compliment,  and  said,  adjusting  his 
cravat,  "  reether  so." 

"  As  you  knows  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,  you  knows,  p'raps,  what  her  chris'en 
name  is?"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed. 

"  Charity,"  said  Bailey. 

"  That  it  ain't !"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Cherry,  then,"  said  Bailey.    "  Cherry's  short  for  it.    It's  all  the  same. 

"  It  don't  begin  with  a  C  at  all,"  retorted  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking  her 
head.     "  It  begins  with  a  M." 

"  Whew  !"  cried  Mr.  Bailey,  slapping  a  little  cloud  of  pipeclay  out  of 
his  left  leg,  "  then  he 's  been  and  married  the  merry  one  ! " 

As  these  words  were  mysterious,  Mrs.  Gamp  called  upon  him  to 
explain,  which  Mr.  Bailey  proceeded  to  do  :  that  lady  listening  greedily 
to  everything  he  said.  He  was  yet  in  the  fulness  of  his  narrative  when 
the  sound  of  wheels,  and  a  double  knock  at  the  street  door,  announced 
the  arrival  of  the  newly-married  couple.  Begging  him  to  reserve  what 
more  he  had  to  say,  for  her  hearing  on  the  way  home,  Mrs.  Gamp  took  up 
the  candle,  and  hurried  away  to  receive  and  welcome  the  young  mistress 
of  the  house. 

"  Wishing  you  appiness  and  joy  with  all  my  art,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp 
dropping  a  curtsey  as  they  entered  the  hall ;  "  and  you  too,  sir.  Your 
lady  looks  a  little  tired  with  the  journey,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  a  pretty  dear  !" 

"  She  has  bothered  enough  about  it,"  grumbled  Mr.  Jonas.  "  Now, 
show  a  light,  will  you  !  " 

"  This  way,  ma'am,  if  you  please,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  going  up-stairs 
before  them.  "  Things  has  been  made  as  comfortable  as  they  could  be ; 
but  there  's  many  things  you  '11  have  to  alter  your  own  self  when  you 
gets  time  to  look  about  you.  Ah  !  sweet  thing  !  But  you  don't," 
added  Mrs.  Gamp,  internally,  "  you  don't  look  much  like  a  merry  one, 
I  must  say  !  " 

It  was  true  ;  she  did  not.  The  death  that  had  gone  before  the 
bridal  seemed  to  have  left  its  shade  upon  the  house.  The  air  was 
heavy  and  oppressive  ;  the  rooms  were  dark  ;  a  deep  gloom  filled  up 
every  chink  and  corner.  Upon  the  hearthstone,  like  a  creature  of  ill 
omen,  sat  the  aged  clerk,  with  his  eyes  fixed  on  some  withered  branches 
in  the  stove.     He  rose  and  looked  at  her. 

"  So  there  you  are,  Mr.  Chuff,"  said  Jonas  carelessly,  as  he  dusted  his 
boots  ;  "■  still  in  the  land  of  the  living,  eh  ?  " 

"  Still  in  the  land  of  the  living,  sir,"  retorted  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  And  Mr. 
Chuffey  may  thank  you  for  it,  as  many  and  many  a  time  I  've  told  him." 

Mr,  Jonas  was  not  in  the  best  of  humours,  for  he  merely  said,  as  he 
looked  round,  "We  don't  want  you  any  more,  you  know,  Mrs.  Gamp." 

"  I  'm  a  going  immediate,  sir,"  returned  the  nurse  ;  "  unless  there  's 
nothink  I  can  do  for  you,  ma'am.  Ain't  there,"  said  Mrs,  Gamp,  with 
a  look  of  great  sweetness,  and  rummaging  all  the  time  in  her  pocket ; 
"  ain't  there  nothink  I  can  do  for  you,  my  little  bird  1 " 

"  No,"  said  Merry,  almost  crying.  "  You  had  better  go  away,  please !" 


320  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES   OP 

With  a  leer  of  mingled  sweetness  and  slyness ;  witli  one  eye  on  tlie 
future,  one  on  the  bride  ;  and  an  arch  expression  in  her  face,  partly 
spiritual,  partly  spirituous,  and  wholly  professional  and  peculiar  to  her 
art ;  Mrs.  Gamp  rummaged  in  her  pocket  again,  and  took  from  it  a 
printed  card,  whereon  was  an  inscription  copied  from  her  sign-board. 

"  Would  you  be  so  good,  my  darling  dovey  of  a  dear  young  married 
lady,"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed,  in  a  low  voice,  "  as  put  that  somewheres 
where  you  can  keep  it  in  your  mind  ?  I  'm  well  beknown  to  many 
ladies,  and  it 's  my  card.  Gamp  is  my  name,  and  Gamp  my  nater. 
Livin'  quite  handy,  I  will  make  so  bold  as  call  in  now  and  then,  and 
make  inquiry  how  your  health  and  spirits  is,  my  precious  chick  !" 

And  with  innumerable  leers,  winks,  coughs,  nods,  smiles,  and  curt- 
sies, all  leading  to  the  establishment  of  a  mysterious  and  confidential 
understanding  between  herself  and  the  bride,  Mrs.  Gamp,  invoking  a 
blessing  upon  the  house,  leered,  winked,  coughed,  nodded,  smiled,  and 
curtsied  herself  out  of  the  room. 

"  But  I  will  say,  and  I  would  if  I  was  led  a  Martha  to  the  Stakes  for 
it,"  Mrs.  Gamp  remarked  below-stairs,  in  a  whisper,  "  that  she  don't 
look  much  like  a  merry  one  at  this  present  moment  of  time." 

"  Ah  !  wait  till  you  hear  her  laugh  1"  said  Bailey. 

"  Hem  !"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  in  a  kind  of  groan.     "I  will,  child." 

They  said  no  more  in  the  house,  for  Mrs.  Gamp  put  on  her  bonnet, 
Mr.  Sweedlepipe  took  up  her  box,  and  Mr.  Bailey  accompanied  them 
towards  Kingsgate  Street ;  recounting  to  Mrs.  Gamp,  as  they  went  along, 
the  origin  and  progress  of  his  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit  and 
her  sister.  It  was  a  pleasant  instance  of  this  youth's  precocity,  that  he 
fancied  Mrs.  Gamp  had  conceived  a  tenderness  for  him,  and  was  much 
tickled  by  her  misplaced  attachment. 

As  the  door  closed  heavily  behind  them,  Mrs.  Jonas  sat  down  in  a 
chair,  and  felt  a  strange  chill  creep  upon  her,  whilst  she  looked  about  the 
room.  It  was  pretty  much  as  she  had  known  it,  but  appeared  more 
dreary.     She  had  thought  to  see  it  brightened  to  receive  her. 

"  It  ain't  good  enough  for  you,  I  supposed "  said  Jonas,  watching  her  looks. 

"  Why,  it  is  dull,"  said  Merry,  trying  to  be  more  herself. 

"  It  '11  be  duller  before  you  're  done  with  it,"  retorted  Jonas,  "  if  you 
give  me  any  of  your  airs.  You  're  a  nice  article,  to  turn  sulky  on 
first  coming  home  !  'Ecod,  you  used  to  have  life  enough,  when  you 
could  plague  me  with  it.  The  gal's  down  stairs.  Eing  the  bell  for 
supper,  while  I  take  my  boots  oif !" 

She  roused  herself  from  looking  after  him  as  he  left  the  room,  to  do 
what  he  had  desired :  when  the  old  man  Chuffey  laid  his  hand  softly  on 
her  arm. 

"  You  are  not  married  ?"  he  said  eagerly.     "  Not  married  ?" 

"  Yes.     A  month  ago.     Good  Heaven,  what  is  the  matter  1" 

He  answered  nothing  was  the  matter  ;  and  turned  from  her.  But 
in  her  fear  and  wonder,  turning  also,  she  saw  him  raise  his  trembling 
hands  above  his  head,  and  heard  him  say : 

"  Oh  !  woe,  woe,  woe,  upon  this  wicked  house  !" 

It  was  her  welcome, — Home. 


"^  Ua/mAyAa^  d&'i'  .£yi/ey^/2y.Me^/^^^^^. 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  321 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

SHOWING  THAT  OLD  FRIENDS  MAY  NOT  ONLY  APPEAR  WITH  NEW  FACES, 
BUT  IN  FALSE  COLOURS.  THAT  PEOPLE  ARE  PRONE  TO  BITE  j  AND 
THAT   BITERS    MAY    SOMETIMES    BE    BITTEN. 

Mr.  Bailey,  Junior — for  the  sporting  character,  whilom  of  general 
utility  at  Todgers's,  had  now  regularly  set  up  in  life  under  that  name, 
without  troubling  himself  to  obtain  from  the  legislature  a  direct  licence 
in  the  form  of  a  Private  Bill,  which  of  all  kinds  and  classes  of  bills  is 
without  exception  the  most  unreasonable  in  its  charges — Mr.  Bailey, 
Junior,  just  tall  enough  to  be  seen  by  an  inquiring  eye,  gazing  indolently 
at  society  from  beneath  the  apron  of  his  master's  cab,  drove  slowly 
up  and  down  Pall  Mall  about  the  hour  of  noon,  in  waiting  for  his 
"  Governor."  The  horse  of  distinguished  family,  who  had  Capricorn  for 
his  nephew,  and  Cauliflower  for  his  brother,  showed  himself  worthy  of 
his  high  relations  by  champing  at  the  bit  until  his  chest  was  white  with 
foam,  and  rearing  like  a  horse  in  heraldry  ;  the  plated  harness  and  the 
patent  leather  glittered  in  the  sun ;  pedestrians  admired  ;  Mr.  Bailey 
was  complacent,  but  unmoved.  He  seemed  to  say,  "  A  barrow,  good 
people,  a  mere  barrow ;  nothing  to  what  we  could  do,  if  we  chose  ! " 
and  on  he  went,  squaring  his  short  green  arms  outside  the  apron,  as  if 
he  were  hooked  on  to  it  by  his  armpits. 

Mr.  Bailey  had  a  great  opinion  of  Brother  to  Cauliflower,  and  esti- 
mated his  powers  highly.  But  he  never  told  him  so.  On  the  contrary, 
it  was  his  practice,  in  driving  that  animal,  to  assail  him  with  disrespectful, 
if  not  injurious,  expressions,  as,  "  Ah  !  would  you  !  "  "  Did  you  think 
it  then  ? "  "  Where  are  you  going  to  now  ?"  "  No  you  won't,  my  lad  !'* 
and  similar  fragmentary  remarks.  These  being  usually  accompanied 
by  a  jerk  of  the  rein,  or  a  crack  of  the  whip,  led  to  many  trials  of 
strength  between  them,  and  to  many  contentions  for  the  upper  hand, 
terminating,  now  and  then,  in  china-shops,  and  other  unusual  goals,  as 
Mr.  Bailey  had  already  hinted  to  his  friend  Poll  Sweedlepipe. 

On  the  present  occasion  Mr.  Bailey,  being  in  spirits,  was  more  than 
commonly  hard  upon  his  charge  ;  in  consequence  of  which  that  fiery 
animal  confined  himself  almost  entirely  to  his  hind  legs  in  displaying 
his  paces,  and  constantly  got  himself  into  positions  with  reference  to  the 
cabriolet  that  very  much  amazed  the  passengers  in  the  street.  But 
Mr.  Bailey,  not  at  all  disturbed,  had  still  a  shower  of  pleasantries  to 
bestow  on  any  one  who  crossed  his  path  :  as  calling  to  a  full-grown 
coalheaver  in  a  wagon,  who  for  a  moment  blocked  the  way,  "Now, 
young  'un,  who  trusted  you  with  a  cart  ?"  inquiring  of  elderly  ladies 
who  wanted  to  cross,  and  ran  back  again,  "  Why  they  didn't  go  to  the 
workhouse  and  get  an  order  to  be  buried  ;"  tempting  boys,  with  friendly 
words,  to  get  up  behind,  and  immediately  afterwards  cutting  them 
down  :  and  the  like  flashes  of  a  cheerful  humour,  which  he  would 
occasionally  relieve  by  going  round  St.  James's  Square  at  a  hand  gallop, 
and  coming  slowly  into  Pall  Mall  by  another  entry,  as  if,  in  the  interval, 
his  pace  had  been  a  perfect  crawl. 


322  LIFE    AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

It  was  not  until  these  amusements  had  been  very  often  repeated, 
and  the  apple-stall  at  the  corner  had  sustained  so  many  miraculous 
escapes  as  to  appear  impregnable,  that  Mr.  Bailey  was  summoned 
to  the  door  of  a  certain  house  in  Pall  Mall,  and  turning  short, 
obeyed  the  call  and  jumped  out.  It  was  not  until  he  had  held  the 
bridle  for  some  minutes  longer,  every  jerk  of  Cauliflower's  brother's 
head,  and  every  twitch  of  Cauliflower's  brother's  nostril,  taking  him  off 
his  legs  in  the  meanwhile,  that  two  persons  entered  the  vehicle,  one  of 
whom  took  the  reins  and  drove  rapidly  off.  Nor  was  it  until  Mr.  Bailey 
had  run  after  it  some  hundreds  of  yards  in  vain,  that  he  managed  to 
lift  his  short  leg  into  the  iron  step,  and  Anally  to  get  his  boots  upon 
the  little  footboard  behind.  Then,  indeed,  he  became  a  sight  to  see  : 
and — standing  now  on  one  foot  and  now  upon  the  other  ;  now  trying  to 
look  round  the  cab  on  this  side,  now  on  that;  and  now  endeavouring 
to  peep  over  the  top  of  it,  as  it  went  dashing  in  among  the  carts  and 
coaches — was  from  head  to  heel  Newmarket. 

The  appearance  of  Mr.  Bailey's  governor  as  he  drove  along,  fully  justi- 
fied that  enthusiastic  youth's  description  of  him  to  the  wondering  Poll. 
He  had  a  world  of  jet-black  shining  hair  upon  his  head,  upon  his  cheeks, 
upon  his  chin,  upon  his  upper  lip.  His  clothes,  symmetrically  made,  were 
of  the  newest  fashion  and  the  costliest  kind.  Flowers  of  gold  and  blue, 
and  green  and  blushing  red,  were  on  his  waistcoat ;  precious  chains  and 
jewels  sparkled  on  his  breast ;  his  fingers,  clogged  with  brilliant  rings, 
were  as  unwieldy  as  summer  flies  but  newly  rescued  from  a  honey-pot. 
The  daylight  mantled  in  his  gleaming  hat  and  boots  as  in  a  polished 
glass.  And  yet,  though  changed  his  name,  and  changed  his  outward 
surface,  it  was  Tigg.  Though  turned  and  twisted  upside  down,  and 
inside  out,  as  great  men  have  been  sometimes  known  to  be ;  though  no 
longer  Montague  Tigg,  but  Tigg  Montague  ;  still  it  was  Tigg :  the 
same  Satanic,  gallant,  military  Tigg.  The  brass  was  burnished,  lac- 
quered, newly-stamped  ;  yet  it  was  the  true  Tigg  metal  notwithstanding. 

Beside  him  sat  a  smiling  gentleman,  of  less  pretensions  and  of 
business  looks,  whom  he  addressed  as  David.  Surely  not  the  David  of 
the — how  shall  it  be  phrased  ? — the  triumvirate  of  golden  balls?  Not 
David,  tapster  at  the  Lombards'  Arms  ?     Y  es.     The  very  man. 

"  The  secretary's  salary,  David,"  said  Mr.  Montague,  "  the  office 
being  now  established,  is  eight  hundred  pounds  per  annum,  with  his 
house-rent,  coals,  and  candles  free.  His  five-and-twenty  shares  he 
holds,  of  course.     Is  that  enough?" 

David  smiled  and  nodded,  and  coughed  behind  a  little  locked  port- 
folio which  he  carried  ;  with  an  air  that  proclaimed  him  to  be  the 
secretary  in  question. 

"  If  that 's  enough,"  said  Montague,  "  I  will  propose  it  at  the  Board 
to-day,  in  my  capacity  as  chairman." 

The  secretary  smiled  again ;  laughed,  indeed,  this  time  ;  and  said, 
rubbing  his  nose  slyly  with  one  end  of  the  portfolio  : 

"  It  was  a  capital  thought,  wasn't  it  ?" 

"  What  was  a  capital  thought,  David  ?"  Mr.  Montague  inquired. 
"  The  Anglo-Bengalee,"  tittered  the  secretary. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  323 

"  The  Anglo-Bengalee  Disiaterested  Loan  and  Life  Insurance  Com- 
pany, is  rather  a  capital  concern,  I  hope,  David,"  said  jMontague. 

"  Capital  indeed  !"  cried  the  secretary,  with  another  laugh — "  in  one 
sense." 

"  In  the  only  important  one,"  observed  the  chairman ;  "  which  is 
number  one,  David." 

"  What,"  asked  the  secretary,  bursting  into  another  laugh,  "  what 
will  be  the  paid  up  capital  according  to  the  next  prospectus  V 

"  A  figure  of  two,  and  as  many  oughts  after  it  as  the  printer  can  get 
into  the  same  line,"  replied  his  friend.     "  Ha,  ha  !" 

At  this  they  both  laughed  ;  the  secretary  so  vehemently,  that  in 
kicking  up  his  feet,  he  kicked  the  apron  open,  and  nearly  started 
Cauliflower  s  brother  into  an  oyster-shop  ;  not  to  mention  Mr.  Bailey's 
receiving  such  a  sudden  swing,  that  he  held  on  for  the  moment,  quite  a 
young  Fame,  by  one  strap  and  no  legs. 

"  What  a  chap  you  are  !"  exclaimed  David  admiringly,  w^hen  this 
little  alarm  had  subsided. 

"  Say  genius,  David,  genius." 

"  Well,  upon  my  soul,  you  are  a  genius  then,"  said  David.  "  I 
always  knew  you  had  the  gift  of  the  gab,  of  course  ;  but  I  never  believed 
you  were  half  the  man  you  are.     How  could  I  ?" 

"  I  rise  with  circumstances,  David.  That 's  a  point  of  genius  in 
itself,"  said  Tigg.  "  If  you  were  to  lose  a  hundred  pound  wager  to  me 
at  this  minute,  David,  and  were  to  pay  it  (which  is  most  confoundedly 
improbable),  I  should  rise,  in  a  mental  point  of  view,  directly." 

It  is  due  to  Mr.  Tigg  to  say.  that  he  had  really  risen  with  his  oppor- 
tunities ;  and  peculating  on  a  grander  scale,  had  become  a  grander  man, 
altogether. 

"  Ha,  ha,"  cried  the  secretary,  laying  his  hand,  with  growing  fa- 
miliarity, upon  the  chairman's  arm.  "  When  I  look  at  you,  and  think 
of  your  property  in  Bengal  being — ha,  ha,  ha  !  — " 

The  half-expressed  idea  seemed  no  less  ludicrous  to  Mr.  Tigg  than  to 
his  friend,  for  he  laughed  too,  heartily. 

" — Being,"  resumed  David,  "  being  amenable — your  property  in 
Bengal  being  amenable — to  all  claims  upon  the  company  :  when  I  look 
at  you  and  think  of  that,  you  might  tickle  me  into  fits  by  waving  the 
feather  of  a  pen  at  me.     Upon  my  soul  you  might !  " 

"  It 's  a  devilish  fine  property,"  said  Tigg  Montague,  "  to  be  amenable 
to  any  claims.  The  preserve  of  tigers  alone  is  worth  a  mint  of  money 
David." 

David  could  only  reply  in  the  intervals  of  his  laughter,  "  Oh,  what  a 
chap  you  are  ! "  and  so  continued  to  laugh,  and  hold  his  sides,  and  wipe 
his  eyes,  for  some  time,  without  offering  any  other  observation. 

"  A  capital  idea  1 "  said  Tigg,  returning  after  a  time  to  his  com- 
panion's first  remark:  "  no  doubt  it  was  a  capital  idea.     It  was  my  idea.'* 

"  No,  no.  It  was  my  idea,"  said  David.  ''  Hang  it,  let  a  man  have 
some  credit.     Didn't  I  say  to  you  that  I  'd  saved  a  few  pounds  1 — " 

"  You  said  !  Didn't  I  say  to  you,"  interposed  Tigg,  "  that  /  had 
come  into  a  few  pounds  1  " 

Y'2 


324  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Certainly  you  did,"  returned  David,  warmly,  "  but  that 's  not  the 
idea.  Who  said,  that  if  we  put  the  money  together  we  could  furnish  an 
office,  and  make  a  show  1 " 

"  And  who  said,"  retorted  Mr.  Tigg,  "  that,  providing  we  did  it  on 
a  sufficiently  large  scale,  we  could  furnish  an  office  and  make  a  show, 
without  any  money  at  all  1  Be  rational,  and  just,  and  calm,  and  tell  me 
whose  idea  was  that." 

"  Why  there,"  David  was  obliged  to  confess,  "  you  had  the  advantage 
of  me,  I  admit.  But  I  don't  put  myself  on  a  level  with  you.  I  only 
want  a  little  credit  in  the  business." 

"  All  the  credit  you  deserve,  you  have,"  said  Tigg.  "  The  plain 
work  of  the  company,  David — figures,  books,  circulars,  advertisements, 
pen  ink  and  paper,  sealing-wax  and  wafers — is  admirably  done  by  you. 
You  are  a  first-rate  groveller.  I  don't  dispute  it.  But  the  ornamental 
department,  David  ;  the  inventive  and  poetical  department — " 

'  Is  entirely  yours,"  said  his  friend.  "  No  question  of  it.  But  with 
such  a  swell  turn-out  as  this,  and  all  the  handsome  things  you  've  got 
about  you,  and  the  life  you  lead,  I  mean  to  say  it 's  a  precious  com- 
fortable department  too." 

"  Does  it  gain  the  purpose  1    Is  it  Anglo-Bengalee  1 "  asked  Tigg. 
.    «  Yes,"  said  David. 

"  Could  you  undertake  it  yourself  1 "  demanded  Tigg. 
"  No,"  said  David. 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  Tigg.  "  Then  be  contented  with  your  station 
and  your  profits,  David,  my  fine  fellow,  and  bless  the  day  that  made  us 
acquainted  across  the  counter  of  our  common  uncle,  for  it  was  a  golden 
day  to  you." 

It  will  have  been  already  gathered  from  the  conversation  of  these 
worthies,  that  they  were  embarked  in  an  enterprise  of  some  magnitude, 
in  which  they  addressed  the  public  in  general  from  the  strong  position 
of  having  everything  to  gain,  and  nothing  at  all  to  lose  ;  and  which, 
based  upon  this  great  principle,  was  thriving  pretty  comfortably. 

The  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life  Insurance  Company, 
started  into  existence  one  morning,  not  an  Infant  Institution,  but  a 
Grown-up  Company  running  alone  at  a  great  pace,  and  doing  business 
right  and  left :  with  a  "  branch  "  in  a  first  floor  over  a  tailor's  at  the 
west-end  of  the  town,  and  main  offices  in  a  new  street  in  the  city,  com- 
prising the  upper  part  of  a  spacious  house,  resplendent  in  stucco  and 
plate-glass,  with  wire  blinds  in  all  the  windows,  and  "  Anglo-Bengalee  " 
worked  into  the  pattern  of  every  one  of  them.  On  the  door-post  was 
painted  again  in  large  letters,  "  Offices  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disin- 
terested Loan  and  Life  Insurance  Company,"  and  on  the  door  was  a 
large  brass  plate  with  the  same  inscription  :  always  kept  very  bright,  as 
courting  inquiry ;  staring  the  city  out  of  countenance  after  office-hours 
on  working  days,  and  all  day  long  on  Sundays  ;  and  looking  bolder  than 
the  Bank.  Within,  the  offices  were  newly  plastered,  newly  painted, 
newly  papered,  newly  countered,  newly  floor-clothed,  newly  tabled,  newly 
chaired,  newly  fitted-up  in  every  way,  with  goods  that  were  substantial 
and  expensive,  and  designed  (like  the  company)  to  last.  Business  !  Look 
at  the  green  ledgers  with  red  backs,  like  strong  cricket-balls  beaten  flat ; 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  325 

the  court-guides,  directories,  day-books,  almanacks,  letter-boxes,  weighing- 
macbines  for  letters,  rows  of  fire-buckets  for  dashing  out  a  conflagration 
in  its  first  spark,  and  saving  the  immense  -wealtli  in  notes  and  bonds 
belonging  to  the  company ;  look  at  the  iron  safes,  the  clock,  the  office 
seal — in  its  capacious  self,  security  for  anything.  Solidity  !  Look  at  the 
massive  blocks  of  marble  in  the  chimney-pieces,  and  the  gorgeous  parapet 
on  the  top  of  the  house  !  Publicity !  Why,  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested 
Loan  and  Life  Insurance  Company,  is  painted  on  the  very  coal-scuttles. 
It  is  repeated  at  every  turn  until  the  eyes  are  dazzled  with  it,  and  the 
head  is  giddy.  It  is  engraved  upon  the  top  of  all  the  letter-paper,  and  it 
makes  a  scroll-work  round  the  seal,  and  it  shines  out  of  the  porter's  buttons, 
and  it  is  repeated  twenty  times  in  every  circular  and  public  notice  wherein 
one  David  Crimple,  Esquire,  Secretary  and  resident  Director,  takes  the 
liberty  of  inviting  your  attention  to  the  accompanying  statement  of  the 
advantages  offered  by  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life 
Insurance  Company  :  and  fully  proves  to  you  that  any  connection  on  your 
part  with  that  establishment  must  result  in  a  perpetual  Christmas  Box 
and  constantly  increasing  Bonus  to  yourself,  and  that  nobody  can  run  any 
risk  by  the  transaction  except  the  office,  which,  in  its  great  liberality,  is 
pretty  sure  to  lose.  And  this,  David  Crimple,  Esquire,  submits  to  you 
(and  the  odds  are  heavy  you  believe  him),  is  the  best  guarantee  that  can 
reasonably  be  suggested  by  the  Board  of  Management  for  its  permanence 
and  stability. 

This  gentleman's  name,  by  the  way,  had  been  originally  Crimp  :  but 
as  the  word  was  susceptible  of  an  awkward  construction  and  might  be 
misrepresented,  he  had  altered  it  to  Crimple. 

Lest  with  all  these  proofs  and  confirmations,  any  man  should  be  sus- 
picious of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life  Insurance 
Company  ;  should  doubt  in  tiger,  cab,  or  person,  Tigg  Montague  Esquire 
(of  Pall  Mall  and  Bengal),  or  any  other  name  in  the  imaginative  List  of 
Directors ;  there  was  a  porter  on  the  premises — a  wonderful  creature,  in 
a  vast  red  waistcoat  and  a  short-tailed  pepper-and-salt  coat — who  carried 
more  conviction  to  the  minds  of  sceptics  than  the  whole  establisliment 
without  him.  No  confidences  existed  between  him  and  the  Directorship  ; 
nobody  knew  where  he  had  served  last ;  no  character  or  explanation  had 
been  given  or  required.  No  questions  had  been  asked  on  either  side. 
This  mysterious  being,  relying  solely  on  his  figure,  had  applied  for  the 
situation,  and  had  been  instantly  engaged  on  his  own  terms.  They  were 
high ;  but  he  knew,  doubtless,  that  no  man  could  carry  such  an  extent 
of  waistcoat  as  himself,  and  felt  the  full  value  of  his  capacity  to  such  an 
institution.  When  he  sat  upon  a  seat  erected  for  him  in  a  corner  of  the 
office,  with  his  glazed  hat  hanging  on  a  peg  over  his  head,  it  was  im- 
possible to  doubt  the  respectability  of  the  concern.  It  went  on  doubling 
itself  with  every  square  inch  of  his  red  waistcoat  until,  like  the  problem 
of  the  nails  in  the  horse's  shoes,  the  total  became  enormous.  People  had 
been  known  to  apply  to  effect  an  insurance  on  their  lives  for  a  thousand 
pounds,  and  looking  at  him,  to  beg,  before  the  form  of  proposal  was  filled 
up,  that  it  might  be  made  two.  And  yet  he  was  not  a  giant.  His  coat 
v.-as  rather  small  than  otherwise.     The  whole  charm  was  in  his  waistcoat. 


326       •  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Respectability,  competence,  property  in  Bengal  or  anywhere  else,  responsi- 
bility to  any  amount  on  the  part  of  the  company  that  employed  him, 
were  all  expressed  in  that  one  garment. 

Rival  offices  had  endeavoured  to  lure  him  away ;  Lombard-street 
itself  had  beckoned  to  him  ;  rich  companies  had  whispered  "  Be  a 
Beadle!"  but  he  still  continued  faithful  to  the  Anglo-Bengalee. 
Whether  he  was  a  deep  rogue,  or  a  stately  simpleton,  it  was  impossible 
to  make  out,  but  he  appeared  to  believe  in  the  Anglo-Bengalee.  He 
was  grave  with  imaginary  cares  of  office  ;  and  having  nothing  whatever 
to  do,  and  something  less  to  take  care  of,  would  look  as  if  the  pressure 
of  his  numerous  duties,  and  a  sense  of  the  treasure  in  the  company's 
strong-room,  made  him  a  solemn  and  a  thoughtful  man. 

As  the  cabriolet  drove  up  to  the  door,  this  officer  appeared  bare- 
headed on  the  pavement,  crying  aloud  "  Room  for  the  chairman,  room 
for  the  chairman,  if  you  please  ! "  much  to  the  admiration  of  the  by- 
standers, who,  it  is  needless  to  say,  had  their  attention  directed  to  the 
Anglo-Bengalee  Company  thenceforth,  by  that  means.  Mr.  Tigg  leaped 
gracefully  out,  followed  by  the  Managing  Director  (who  was  by  this  time 
very  distant  and  respectful),  and  ascended  the  stairs,  still  preceded  by 
the  porter :  who  cried  as  he  went,  "  By  your  leave  there  !  by  your 
leave  !  The  chairman  of  the  Board,  Gentle — men  !'  In  like  manner, 
but  in  a  still  more  stentorian  voice,  he  ushered  the  chairman  through 
the  public  office,  where  some  humble  clients  were  transacting  business, 
into  an  awful  chamber,  labelled  Board-room  :  the  door  of  which  sanctuary 
immediately  closed,  and  screened  the  great  capitalist  from  vulgar  eyes. 

The  boardroom  had  a  Turkey  carpet  in  it,  a  sideboard,  a  portrait  of  Tigg 
Montague  Esquire  as  chairman ;  a  very  imposing  chair  of  office,  garnished 
with  an  ivory  hammer  and  a  little  hand-bell ;  and  a  long  table,  set  out  at 
intervals  with  sheets  of  blotting-paper,  foolscap,  clean  pens,  and  ink- 
stands. The  chairman  having  taken  his  seat  with  great  solemnity,  the 
secretary  supported  him  on  his  right  hand,  and  the  porter  stood  bolt 
upright  behind  them,  forming  a  warm  background  of  waistcoat.  This 
was  the  board  :   everything  else  being  a  light-hearted  little  fiction. 

"Bullamy  !"  said  Mr.  Tigg. 

"Sir!"  replied  the  Porter. 

"  Let  the  Medical  Officer  know,  with  my  compliments,  that  I  wish  to 
see  him." 

Bullamy  cleared  his  throat,  and  bustled  out  into  the  office,  crying 
"  The  Chairman  of  the  Board  wishes  to  see  the  Medical  Officer.  By 
your  leave  there  !  by  your  leave  !"  He  soon  returned  with  the  gentle- 
man in  question  ;  and  at  both  openings  of  the  boardroom  door — at  his 
coming  in  and  at  his  going  out — simple  clients  were  seen  to  stretch  their 
necks  and  stand  upon  their  toes,  thirsting  to  catch  the  slightest  glimpse 
of  that  mysterious  chamber. 

"  Jobling,  my  dear  friend  ! "  said  Mr.  Tigg,  "  how  are  you  1  Bullamy, 
wait  outside.  Crimple,  don't  leave  us.  Jobling,  my  good  fellow,  I  am 
glad  to  see  you." 

"And  how  are  yow,  Mr.  Montague,  eh  f  said  the  Medical  Officer, 
throwing  himself  luxuriously  into  an  easy  chair  (they  were  all  easy 


c . ,  "^fie '    ^ycJo-^y^  a 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  327 

chairs  in  the  board-room),  and  taking  a  handsome  gold  snuffbox  from  the 
pocket  of  his  black  satin  waistcoat.  "  How  are  you  1  A  little  worn 
with  business,  eh  ?  If  so,  rest.  A  little  feverish  from  wine,  humph  ? 
If  so,  water.  Nothing  at  all  the  matter,  and  quite  comfortable  1  Then 
take  some  lunch.  A  very  wholesome  thing  at  this  time  of  day  to 
strengthen  the  gastric  juices  with  lunch,  Mr.  Montague." 

The  medical  officer  (he  was  the  same  medical  officer  who  had  followed 
poor  old  Anthony  Chuzzlewit  to  the  grave,  and  who  had  attended  Mrs. 
Gamp's  patient  at  the  Bull)  smiled  in  saying  these  words  ;  and  casually 
added,  as  he  brushed  some  grains  of  snuff  from  his  shirt-frill,  "  I 
always  take  it  myself  about  this  time  of  day,  do  you  knowl" 

"  Bullamy  ! "  said  the  chairman,  ringing  the  little  bell. 

"Sir!" 

"  Lunch." 

"  Not  on  my  account,  I  hope  ? "  said  the  doctor.  "  You  are  very 
good.  Thank  you.  I  'm  quite  ashamed.  Ha,  ha  !  if  I  had  been  a 
sharp  practitioner,  Mr.  Montague,  I  shouldn't  have  mentioned  it  with- 
out a  fee;  for  you  may  depend  upon' it, 'my  dear  sir,  that  if  you  don't 
make  a  point  of  taking  lunch,  you  '11  very  soon  come  under  my  hands. 
Allow  me  to  illustrate  this.     In  Mr.  Crimple's  leg — " 

The  resident  Director  gave  an  involuntary  start,  for  the  Doctor,  in 
the  heat  of  his  demonstration,  caught  it  up  and  laid  it  across  his  own, 
as  if  he  were  going  to  take  it  off,  then  and  there. 

"  In  Mr.  Crimple's  leg,  you  '11  observe,"  pursued  the  Doctor,  turning 
back  his  cuffs  and  spanning  the  limb  with  both  hands,  "  where  Mr. 
Crimple's  knee  fits  into  the  socket,  here,  there  is — that  is  to  say,  between 
the  bone  and  the  socket — a  certain  quantity  of  animal  oil." 

"  What  do  you  pick  my  leg  out  for  ?"  said  Mr.  Crimple,  looking  with 
something  of  an  anxious  expression  at  his  limb.  "  It 's  the  same  with 
other  legs,  ain't  it  ?" 

"  Never  you  mind,  my  good  sir,"  returned  the  Doctor,  shaking  his 
head,  "  whether  it  is  the  same  with  other  legs,  or  not  the  same." 

"  But  I  do  mind,"  said  David. 

"  I  take  a  particular  case,  Mr.  Montague,"  returned  the  Doctor,  "  as 
illustrating  my  remark,  you  observe.  In  this  portion  of  Mr.  Crimple's 
leg,  sir,  there  is  a  certain  amount  of  animal  oil.  In  every  one  of  Mr. 
Crimple's  joints,  sir,  there  is  more  or  less  of  the  same  deposit.  Very  good. 
If  Mr.  Crimple  neglects  his  meals,  or  fails  to  take  his  proper  quantity  of 
rest,  that  oil  wanes,  and  becomes  exhausted.  What  is  the  consequence  ? 
Mr.  Crimple's  bones  sink  down  into  their  sockets,  sir,  and  Mr.  Crimple 
becomes  a  weazen,  puny,  stunted,  miserable  man  !" 

The  Doctor  let  Mr.  Crimple's  leg  fall  suddenly,  as  if  he  were  already 
in  that  agreeable  condition  :  turned  down  his  wristbands  again,  and 
looked  triumphantly  at  the  chairman. 

"  We  know  a  few  secrets  of  nature  in  our  profession,  sir,"  said  the 
Doctor.  "  Of  course  we  do.  We  study  for  that ;  we  pass  the  Hall  and 
the  College  for  that ;  and  we  take  our  station  in  society  bf/  that.  It 's 
extraordinary  how  little  is  known  on  these  subjects  generally.  Where 
do  you  suppose,  now " — the  doctor  closed  one  eye,  as  he  leaned  back 
smilingly  in  his  chair,  and  formed  a  triangle  with  his  hands,  of  which 


328  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

his  two  thumbs  composed  the  base — "  where  do  you  suppose  Mr. 
Crimple's  stomach  is  ?" 

Mr.  Crimple,  more  agitated  than  before,  clapped  his  hand  immediately 
below  his  waistcoat. 

"  Not  at  all,"  cried  the  Doctor  ;  "  not  at  all.  Quite  a  popular  mis- 
take !     My  good  sir,  you  're  altogether  deceived." 

"  I  feel  it  there,  when  it 's  out  of  order  j  that 's  all  I  know,"  said 
Crimple. 

"  You  think  you  do,"  replied  the  Doctor  ;  "  but  science  knows 
better.  There  was  a  patient  of  mine  once,"  touching  one  of  the  many 
mourning  rings  upon  his  fingers,  and  slightly  bowing  his  head,  "  a 
gentleman  who  did  me  the  honour  to  make  a  very  handsome  mention 
of  me  in  his  will — '  in  testimony,'  as  he  was  pleased  to  say,  '  of  the 
unremitting  zeal,  talent,  and  attention  of  my  friend  and  medical  atten- 
dant, John  Jobling,  Esquire,  M.KC.S.' — who  was  so  overcome  by  the 
idea  of  having  all  his  life  laboured  under  an  erroneous  view  of  the  locality 
of  this  important  organ,  that  when  I  assured  him,  on  my  professional 
reputation,  he  was  mistaken,  he  burst  into  tears,  put  out  his  hand,  and 
said,  *  Jobling,  God  bless  you!'  Immediately  afterwards  he  became 
speechless,  and  was  ultimately  buried  at  Brixton." 

"  By  your  leave  there  !"  cried  BuUamy,  without.  "  By  your  leave  ! 
refreshment  for  the  Board-room  !" 

"  Ha  !"  said  the  doctor,  jocularly,  as  he  rubbed  his  hands,  and  drew 
his  chair  nearer  to  the  table.  "  The  true  Life  Insurance,  Mr.  Montague. 
The  best  Policy  in  the  world,  my  dear  sir.  We  should  be  provident, 
and  eat  and  drink  whenever  we  can.     Eh,  Mr.  Crimple  V 

The  resident  Director  acquiesced  rather  sulkily,  as  if  the  gratification 
of  replenishing  his  stomach  had  been  impaired  by  the  unsettlement  of 
his  preconceived  opinions  in  reference  to  its  situation.  But  the  appear- 
ance of  the  porter  and  under  porter  with  a  tray  covered  with  a  snow- 
white  cloth,  which,  being  thrown  back,  displayed  a  pair  of  cold  roast 
fowls,  flanked  by  some  potted  meats  and  a  cool  salad,  quickly  restored 
his  good  humour.  It  was  enhanced  still  further  by  the  arrival  of  a  bottle 
of  excellent  madeira,  and  another  of  champagne  :  and  he  soon  attacked 
the  repast  with  an  appetite  scarcely  inferior  to  that  of  the  medical  officer. 

The  lunch  was  handsomely  served,  with  a  profusion  of  rich  glass, 
plate,  and  china ;  which  seemed  to  denote  that  eating  and  drinking  on 
a  showy  scale  formed  no  unimportant  item  in  the  business  of  the  Anglo- 
Bengalee  Directorship.  As  it  proceeded,  the  medical  officer  grew  more 
and  more  joyous  and  red-faced,  insomuch  that  every  mouthful  he  ate, 
and  every  drop  of  wine  he  swallowed,  seemed  to  impart  new  lustre  to 
his  eyes,  and  to  light  up  new  sparks  in  his  nose  and  forehead. 

In  certain  quarters  of  the  city  and  its  neighbourhood,  Mr.  Jobling^ 
was,  as  we  have  already  seen  in  some  measure,  a  very  popular  character. 
He  had  a  portentously  sagacious  chin,  and  a  pompous  voice,  with  a  rich 
huskiness  in  some  of  its  tones  that  went  directly  to  the  heart,  like  a  ray 
of  light  shining  through  the  ruddy  medium  of  choice  old  burgundy. 
His  neck-kerchief  and  shirt-frill  were  ever  of  the  whitest,  his  clothes  of 
the  blackest  and  sleekest,  his  gold  watch-chain  of  the  heaviest,  and  his 
seals  of  the  largest.     His  boots,  which  were  always  of  the  brightest 


MARTIN    CHTJZZLEWIT.  329 

creaked  as  he  walked.  Perhaps  he  could  shake  his  head,  rub  his  hands, 
or  warm  himself  before  a  fire,  better  than  any  man  alive  ;  and  he  had 
a  peculiar  way  of  smacking  his  lips  and  saying,  "  Ah  ! "  at  intervals 
while  patients  detailed  their  symptoms,  which  inspired  great  confidence. 
It  seemed  to  express,  "  I  know  what  you  're  going  to  say  better  than 
you  do  ;  but  go  on,  go  on."  As  he  talked  on  all  occasions  whether  he 
had  anything  to  say  or  not,  it  was  unanimously  observed  of  him  that  he 
was  "  full  of  anecdote ; "  and  his  experience  and  profit  from  it  were 
considered,  for  the  same  reason,  to  be  something  much  too  extensive  for 
description.  His  female  patients  could  never  praise  him  too  highly ; 
and  the  coldest  of  his  male  admirers  would  always  say  this  for  him 
to  their  friends,  "  that  whatever  Jobling's  professional  skill  might  be 
(and  it  could  not  be  denied  that  he  had  a  very  high  reputation),  he  was 
one  of  the  most  comfortable  fellows  you  ever  saw  in  your  life  !  " 

Jobling  was  for  many  reasons,  and  not  last  in  the  list  because 
his  connection  lay  principally  among  tradesmen  and  their  families, 
exactly  the  sort  of  person  whom  the  Anglo-Bengalee  company  wanted 
for  a  medical  officer.  But  Jobling  was  far  too  knowing  to  connect  him- 
self with  the  company  in  any  closer  ties  than  as  a  paid  (and  well-paid) 
functionary,  or  to  allow  his  connection  to  be  misunderstood  abroad,  if  he 
could  help  it.  Hence  he  always  stated  the  case  to  an  inquiring  patient, 
after  this  manner : 

"  Why,  my  dear  sir,  with  regard  to  the  Anglo-Bengalee,  my  infor- 
mation, you  see,  is  limited  :  very  limited.  I  am  the  medical  officer,  in 
consideration  of  a  certain  monthly  payment.  The  labourer  is  worthy  of 
his  hire  ;  Bis  dat  qui  cito  dat  " — ("  classical  scholar,  Jobling  !  "  thinks 
the  patient,  "  Well  read  man  !  ") — "  and  I  receive  it  regularly.  There- 
fore I  am  bound,  so  far  as  my  own  knowledge  goes,  to  speak  well  of  the 
establishment."  ("  Nothing  can  be  fairer  than  Jobling's  conduct,"  thinks 
the  patient,  who  has  just  paid  Jobling's  bill  himself.)  "  If  you  put 
any  question  to  me,  my  dear  friend,"  says  the  doctor,  "  touching  the 
responsibility  or  capital  of  the  company,  there  I  am  at  fault ;  for  I  have 
no  head  for  figures,  and  not  being  a  shareholder,  am  delicate  of  showing 
any  curiosity  whatever  on  the  subject.  Delicacy — ^your  amiable  lady 
will  agree  with  me  I  am  sure — should  be  one  of  the  first  characteristics 
of  a  medical  man."  ("  Nothing  can  be  finer  or  more  gentlemanly  than 
Jobling's  feeling,"  thinks  the  patient.)  "  Very  good,  my  dear  sir,  so 
the  matter  stands.  You  don't  know  Mr.  Montague  ?  I  'm  sorry  for  it. 
A  remarkably  handsome  man,  and  quite  the  gentleman  in  every  respect. 
Property,  I  am  told,  in  India.  House,  and  everything  belonging  to  him, 
beautiful.  Costly  furniture  on  the  most  elegant  and  lavish  scale.  And 
pictures,  which,  even  in  an  anatomical  point  of  view,  are  per — fection. 
In  case  you  should  ever  think  of  doing  anything  with  the  company, 
I  '11  pass  you,  you  may  depend  upon  it.  I  can  conscientiously  report 
you  a  healthy  subject.  If  I  understand  any  man's  constitution,  it  is 
yours  ;  and  this  little  indisposition  has  done  him  more  good,  ma'am," 
says  the  doctor,  turning  to  the  patient's  wife,  "  than  if  he  had  swallowed 
the  contents  of  half  the  nonsensical  bottles  in  my  surgery.  For  they 
are  nonsense — to  tell  the  honest  truth,  one  half  of  them  are  nonsense 
— compared  with  such  a  constitution  as  his ! " — ("  Jobling  is  the  most 


330  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

friendly  creature  I   ever  met  with  in  my  life/'   thinks  the  patient; 
"  and  upon  my  word  and  honour,  1 11  consider  of  it !  ") 

"  Commission  to  you,  Doctor,  on  four  new  policies,  and  a  loan  this 
morning,  eh  1 "  said  Crimple  looking,  when  they  had  finished  lunch, 
over  some  papers  brought  in  by  the  porter.     "  Well  done  !" 

"  Jobling,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Tigg,  "  long  life  to  you." 

"No,  no.  Nonsense.  Upon  my  word  I've  no  right  to  draw  the 
commission,"  said  the  doctor,  "  I  haven't  really.  It 's  picking  your 
pocket.  I  don't  recommend  anybody  here.  I  only  say  what  I  know. 
My  patients  ask  me  what  I  know,  and  I  tell  'em  what  I  know.  Nothing 
else.  Caution  is  my  weak  side,  that 's  the  truth  ;  and  always  was  from 
a  boy.  That  is,"  said  the  doctor,  filling  his  glass,  "  caution  in  behalf 
of  other  people.  Whether  I  would  repose  confidence  in  this  company 
myself,  if  I  had  not  been  paying  money  elsewhere  for  many  years — that 's 
quite  another  question." 

He  tried  to  look  as  if  there  were  no  doubt  about  it  j  but  feeling 
that  he  did  it  but  indifferently,  changed  the  theme,  and  praised  the 
wine. 

"  Talking  of  wine,"  said  the  doctor,  "  reminds  me  of  one  of  the  finest 
glasses  of  old  light  port  I  ever  drank  in  my  life  ;  and  that  was  at  a 
funeral.  You  have  not  seen  anything  of — of  that  party,  Mr.  Mon- 
tague, have  you  ?'  handing  him  a  card. 

"  He  is  not  buried,  I  hope  f  said  Tigg,  as  he  took  it.  "  The  honour 
of  his  company  is  not  requested  if  he  is." 

"  Ha,  ha  !"  laughed  the  doctor.  "  No  ;  not  quite.  He  was  honour- 
ably connected  with  that  very  occasion  though." 

"  Oh  ! "  said  Tigg,  smoothing  his  moustache,  as  he  cast  his  eyes  upon 
the  name.     "  I  recollect.     No.     He  has  not  been  here." 

The  words  were  on  his  lips,  when  BuUamy  entered,  and  presented  a 
card  to  the  Medical  Ofiicer.  ^ 

"  Talk  of  the  what's  his  name — "  observed  the  doctor,  rising. 

"  And  he's  sure  to  appear,  eh  V  said  Tigg. 

"  Why,  no,  Mr.  Montague,  no,"  returned  the  Doctor.  "  We  will  not 
say  that  in  the  present  case,  for  this  gentleman  is  very  far  from  it." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  retorted  Tigg.    "  So  much  the  more  adaptable 
to  the  Anglo-Bengalee.     Bullamy,  clear  the  table  and  take  the  things 
out  by  the  other  door.     Mr.  Crimple,  business." 
,     "  Shall  I  introduce  him  1 "  asked  Jobling. 

"  I  shall  be  eternally  delighted,"  answered  Tigg,' kissing  his  hand  and 
smiling  sweetly. 

The  doctor  disappeared  into  the  outer  ofiice,  and  immediately 
returned  with  Jonas  Chuzzlewit. 

"Mr.  Montague,"  said  Jobling.  "Allow  me.  My  friend  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit.  My  dear  friend — our  chairman.  Now  do  you  know,"  he 
added,  checking  himself  with  infinite  policy,  and  looking  round  with  a 
smile  :  "  that's  a  very  singular  instance  of  the  force  of  example. 
It  really  is  a  very  remarkable  instance  of  the  force  of  example.  I 
say  o?(r  chairman.  Why  do  I  say  our  chairman  1  Because  he  is  not  mi/ 
chairman,  you  know.  I  have  no  connection  with  the  company,  farther 
than  giving  them,  for  a  certain  fee  and  reward,  my  poor  opinion  as  a 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  331 

medical  man,  precisely  as  I  may  give  it  any  day  to  Jack  Noakes  or  Tom 
Styles.  Then  why  do  I  say  our  chairman  1  Simply  because  I  hear  the 
phrase  constantly  repeated  about  me.  Such  is  the  involuntary  opera- 
tion of  the  mental  faculty  in  the  imitative  biped  man.  Mr.  Crimple,  I 
believe  you  never  take  snuff?     Injudicious.     You  should." 

Pending  these  remarks  on  the  part  of  the  doctor,  and  the  lengthened 
and  sonorous  pinch  with  which  he  followed  them  up,  Jonas  took  a 
seat  at  the  board  :  as  ungainly  a  man  as  ever  he  has  been  within  the 
reader's  knowledge.  It  is  too  common  with  all  of  us,  but  it  is  especially 
in  the  nature  of  a  mean  mind,  to  be  overawed  by  fine  clothes  and  fine 
furniture.     They  had  a  very  decided  influence  on  Jonas. 

"  Now  you  two  gentlemen  have  business  to  discuss,  I  know,"  said  the 
doctor,  •'  and  your  time  is  precious.  So  is  mine  ;  for  several  lives  are 
waiting  for  me  in  the  next  room,  and  I  have  a  round  of  visits  to  make 
after — after  I  have  taken  'em.  Having  had  the  happiness  to  introduce 
you  to  each  other,  I  may  go  about  my  business.  Good  bye.  But 
allow  me,  Mr.  Montague,  before  I  go,  to  say  this  of  my  friend  who  sits 
beside  you  :  That  gentleman  has  done  more,  sir,"  rapping  his  snuff- 
box solemnly,  "  to  reconcile  me  to  human  nature,  than  any  man  alive 
or  dead.     Good  bye  !" 

With  these  words  Jobling  bolted  abruptly  out  of  the  room,  and  pro- 
ceeded, in  his  own  official  department,  to  impress  the  lives  in  waiting 
with  a  sense  of  his  keen  conscientiousness  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty, 
and  the  great  difficulty  of  getting  into  the  Anglo-Bengalee  ;  by  feeling 
their  pulses,  looking  at  their  tongues,  listening  at  their  ribs,  poking  them 
in  the  chest,  and  so  forth  ;  though,  if  he  didn't  well  know  beforehand 
that  whatever  kind  of  lives  they  were,  the  Anglo-Bengalee  would  accept 
them  readily,  he  was  far  from  being  the  Jobling  that  his  friends 
considered  him ;  and  was  not  the  original  Jobling,  but  a  spurious 
imitation. 

Mr.  Crimple  also  departed  on  the  business  of  the  morning  ;  and  Jonas 
Chuzzlewit  and  Tigg  were  left  alone. 

"  I  learn  from  our  friend,"  said  Tigg,  drawing  his  chair  towards  Jonas 
with  a  winning  ease  of  manner,  "  that  you  have  been  thinking — " 

"  Oh  !  Ecod  then  he  'd  no  right  to  say  so,"  cried  Jonas,  interrupting. 
^'  I  didn't  tell  him  my  thoughts.  If  he  took  it  into  his  head  that  I  was 
coming  here  for  such  or  such  a  purpose,  why,  that's  his  look-out.  I 
don't  stand  committed  by  that." 

Jonas  said  this  offensively  enough ;  for  over  and  above  the  habitual 
distrust  of  his  character,  it  was  in  his  nature  to  seek  to  revenge  himself 
on  the  fine  clothes  and  the  fine  furniture,  in  exact  proportion  as  he  had 
been  unable  to  withstand  their  influence. 

"  If  I  come  here  to  ask  a  question  or  two,  and  get  a  document  or  two 
to  consider  of,  I  don't  bind  myself  to  anything.  Let's  understand  that, 
you  know,"  said  Jonas. 

"  My  dear  fellow  ! "  cried  Tigg,  clapping  him  on  the  shoulder,  "  I 
applaud  your  frankness.  If  men  like  you  and  I  speak  openly  at  first, 
all  possible  misunderstanding  is  avoided.  Why  should  I  disguise  what 
you  know  so  well,  but  what  the  crowd  never  dream  of?  We  companies 
are   all  birds  of  prey  :   mere  birds  of  prey.       The  only  question  is. 


332  LIFE   AND    ADVENTUEES    OF 

whether  in  serving  our  own  turn,  we  can  serve  yours  too  ;  whether 
in  double-lining  our  own  nest,  we  can  put  a  single  lining  into  yours. 
Oh;  you  're  in  our  secret.  You  're  behind  the  scenes.  We  '11  make  a 
merit  of  dealing  plainly  with  you,  when  we  know  we  can't  help  it." 

It  was  remarked,  on  the  first  introduction  of  Mr.  Jonas  into  these 
pages,  that  there  is  a  simplicity  of  cunning,  no  less  than  a  simplicity  of 
innocence,  and  that  in  all  matters  involving  a  faith  in  knavery,  he  was 
the  most  credulous  of  men.  If  Mr.  Tigg  had  preferred  any  claim  to 
high  and  honourable  dealing,  Jonas  would  have  suspected  him  though  he 
had  been  a  very  model  of  probity ;  but  when  he  gave  utterance  to  Jonas's 
own  thoughts  of  everything  and  everybody,  Jonas  began  to  feel  that  he 
was  a  pleasant  fellow,  and  one  to  be  talked  to  freely. 

He  changed  his  position  in  his  chair ;  not  for  a  less  awkward,  but  for 
a  more  boastful  attitude ;  and  smiling  in  his  miserable  conceit,  rejoined  : 

"  You  an't  a  bad  man  of  business,  Mr.  Montague.  You  know  how  to 
set  about  it,  I  will  say." 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Tigg,  nodding  confidentially,  and  showing  his  white 
teeth :  "  we  are  not  children,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit ;  we  are  grown  men,  I 
hope." 

Jonas  assented,  and  said  after  a  short  silence,  first  spreading  out  his 
legs,  and  sticking  one  arm  akimbo  to  show  how  perfectly  at  home  he  was, 

"  The  truth  is—" 

"  Don't  say,  the  truth,"  interposed  Tigg,  with  another  grin.  "  It 's  so 
like  humbug." 

Greatly  charmed  by  this,  Jonas  began  again. 

"  The  long  and  the  short  of  it,  is — " 

"  Better,"  muttered  Tigg.     "  Much  better  !" 

«  — That  I  didn't  consider  myself  very  well  used  by  one  or  two  of  the 
old  companies  in  some  negotiations  I  have  had  with  'em — once  had,  I 
mean.  They  started  objections  they  had  no  right  to  start,  and  put 
questions  they  had  no  right  to  put,  and  carried  things  much  too  high 
for  my  taste." 

As  he  made  these  observations  he  cast  down  his  eyes,  and  looked 
curiously  at  the  carpet.     Mr.  Tigg  looked  curiously  at  him. 

He  made  so  long  a  pause,  that  Tigg  came  to  the  rescue,  and  said,  in 
his  pleasantest  manner  : 

"  Take  a  glass  of  wine  ?" 

"  No,  no,"  returned  Jonas,  with  a  cunning  shake  of  the  head  ;  "  none 
of  that,  thankee.  No  wine  over  business.  All  very  well  for  you,  but 
it  wouldn't  do  for  me." 

"  What  an  old  hand  you  are,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit ! "  said  Tigg,  leaning 
back  in  his  chair,  and  leering  at  him  through  his  half-shut  eyes. 

Jonas  shook  his  head  again,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  You're  right  there ;'' 
and  then  resumed,  jocosely  : 

"  Not  such  an  old  hand,  either,  but  that  I  've  been  and  got  married. 
That 's  rather  green,  you  '11  say.  Perhaps  it  is,  especially  as  she 's 
young.  But  one  never  knows  what  may  happen  to  these  women,  so 
I  'm  thinking  of  insuring  her  life.  It  is  but  fair,  you  know,  that  a 
man  should  secure  some  consolation  in  case  of  meeting  with  such  a 
loss." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  333 

"  If  anything  can  console  him  under  such  heart-breaking  circum- 
stances," murmured  Tigg,  with  his  eyes  shut  up  as  before. 

"  Exactly,"  returned  Jonas  ;  "  if  anything  can.  Now,  supposing  I 
did  it  here,  I  should  do  it  cheap,  I  know,  and  easy,  without  bothering 
her  about  it ;  which  I  'd  much  rather  not  do,  for  it 's  just  in  a  woman's 
way  to  take  it  into  her  head,  if  you  talk  to  her  about  such  things,  that 
she  's  going  to  die  directly." 

"  So  it  is,"  cried  Tigg,  kissing  his  hand  in  honour  of  the  sex. 
"  You  're  quite  right.     Sweet,  silly,  fluttering  little  simpletons  ! " 

"  Well,"  said  Jonas,  "  on  that  account,  you  know,  and  because  offence 
has  been  given  me  in  other  quarters,  I  wouldn't  mind  patronising  this 
Company.  But  I  want  to  know  what  sort  of  security  there  is  for  the 
Company's  going  on.     That 's  the — ^" 

"  Not  the  truth  ]"  cried  Tigg,  holding  up  his  jewelled  hand.  "  Don't 
use  that  Sunday  School  expression,  please  !" 

"  The  long  and  the  short  of  it,"  said  Jonas.  "  The  long  and  the  short 
of  it  is,  what 's  the  security  % " 

"  The  paid-up  capital,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Tigg,  referring  to  some  papers 
on  the  table,  "  is,  at  this  present  moment — " 

"  Oh  !    I  understand  all  about  paid-up  capitals,  you  know,"  said  Jonas. 

"You  do  ?"  cried  Tigg,  stopping  short. 

"  I  should  hope  so." 

He  turned  the  papers  down  again,  and  moving  nearer  to  him,  said  in 
his  ear  : 

"I  know  you  do.     I  know  you  do.     Look  at  me  !" 

It  was  not  much  in  Jonas's  way  to  look  straight  at  anybody ;  but 
thus  requested,  he  made  shift  to  take  a  tolerable  survey  of  the  chair- 
man's features.  The  chairman  fell  back  a  little,  to  give  him  the  better 
opportunity. 

"  You  know  me  V  he  inquired,  elevating  his  eyebrows.  "  You  recol- 
lect %     You  've  seen  me  before  % " 

"  Why,  I  thought  I  remembered  your  face  when  I  first  came  in," 
said  Jonas,  gazing  at  it ;  "  but  I  couldn't  call  to  mind  where  I  had 
seen  it.     No.     I  don't  remember,  even  now.     Was  it  in  the  street  ?" 

"  Was  it  in  Pecksniff's  parlour  ?"  said  Tigg. 

"In  Pecksniff's  parlour!"  echoed  Jonas,  fetching  a  long  breath. 
"  You  don't  mean  when — " 

"  Yes,"  cried  Tigg,  "  when  there  was  a  very  charming  and  delightful 
little  family  party,  at  which  yourself  and  your  respected  father  assisted." 

"Well,  never  mind  himl'  said  Jonas.  "  He's  dead,  and  there's 
no  help  for  it." 

"  Dead,  is  he  !"  cried  Tigg.  "  Venerable  old  gentleman,  is  he  dead  ! 
You  're  very  like  him." 

Jonas  received  this  compliment  with  anything  but  a  good  grace  : 
perhaps  because  of  his  own  private  sentiments  in  reference  to  the 
personal  appearance  of  his  deceased  parent  ;  perhaps  because  he  was 
not  best  pleased  to  find  that  Montague  and  Tigg  were  one.  That  gen- 
tleman perceived  it,  and  tapping  him  familiarly  on  the  sleeve,  beckoned 
him  to  the  window.  From  this  moment,  Mr.  Montague's  jocularity  and 
flow  of  spirits,  were  remarkable. 


334  LIFE    AND    ADVENTUEES    OF 

"Do  you  find  me  at  all  changed  since  that  time?"  he  asked.  "  Speak 
plainly." 

Jonas  looked  hard  at  his  waistcoat  and  jewels  ;  and  said,  "  Kather 
ecod  !" 

"  Was  I  at  all  seedy  in  those  days  ?"  asked  Montague. 

"  Precious  seedy,"  said  Jonas. 

Mr.  Montague  pointed  down  into  the  street,  where  Bailey  and  the 
cab  were  in  attendance. 

"  Neat :  perhaps  dashing.     Do  you  know  whose  it  is  ?" 

"  No." 

"  Mine.     Do  you  like  this  room  ?" 

"  It  must  have  cost  a  lot  of  money,"  said  Jonas. 

"  You  're  right.  Mine  too.  Why  don't  you  " — he  whispered  this, 
and  nudged  him  in  the  side  with  his  elbow — "  why  don't  you  take 
premiums,  instead  of  paying  'em.  That 's  what  a  man  like  you  should 
do.     Join  us  !" 

Jonas  stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

"  Is  that  a  crowded  street  ?"  asked  Montague,  calling  his  attention  to 
the  multitude  without. 

"  Very,"  said  Jonas,  only  glancing  at  it,  and  immediately  afterwards 
looking  at  him  again. 

"  There  are  printed  calculations,"  said  his  companion,  "  which  will 
tell  you  pretty  nearly  how  many  people  will  pass  up  and  down  that 
thoroughfare  in  the  course  of  a  day.  /  can  tell  you  how  many  of  'em 
will  come  in  here,  merely  because  they  find  this  office  here ;  knowing 
no  more  about  it  than  they  do  of  the  Pyramids.  Ha,  ha  !  Join  us. 
You  shall  come  in  cheap." 

Jonas  looked  at  him  harder  and  harder. 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  said  Tigg  in  his  ear,  "  how  many  of  'em  will  buy 
annuities,  effect  insurances,  bring  us  their  money  in  a  hundred  shapes 
and  ways,  force  it  upon  us,  trust  us  as  if  we  were  the  Mint ;  yet  know 
no  more  about  us  than  you  do  of  that  crossing-sweeper  at  the  corner. 
Not  so  much.     Ha,  ha  !" 

Jonas  gradually  broke  into  a  smile. 

"  Yah  !"  said  Montague,  giving  him  a  pleasant  thrust  in  the  breast ; 
"  you  're  too  deep  for  us,  you  dog,  or  I  wouldn't  have  told  you.  Dine 
with  me  to-morrow,  in  Pall  Mall !" 

"  I  will,"  said  Jonas. 

"  Done  !"  cried  Montague.  "  Wait  a  bit.  Take  these  papers  with 
you,  and  look  'em  over.  See,"  he  said,  snatching  some  printed  forms 
from  the  table.  "  B  is  a  little  tradesman,  clerk,  parson,  artist,  author  ; 
any  common  thing  you  like." 

"  Yes,"  said  Jonas,  looking  greedily  over  his  shoulder.     "  Well  !" 

"  B  wants  a  loan.  Say  fifty  or  a  hundred  pound  ;  perhaps  more  ;  no 
matter.  B  proposes  self  and  two  securities.  B  is  accepted.  Two 
securities  give  a  bond.  B  insures  his  own  life  for  double  the  amount,  and 
brings  two  friends'  lives  also — just  to  patronise  the  office.  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 
Is  that  a  good  notion  ?" 

"  Ecod,  that 's  a  capital  notion  !"  cried  Jonas.  "  But  does  he  really 
do  it  V 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  335 

"  Do  it  !"  repeated  the  chairman.     "  B  's  har  J-up,  my  good  fellow, 
and  will  do  anything.     Don't  you  see  ?     It 's  my  idea." 
"  It  does  you  honour.     I  'm  blest  if  it  don't,"  said  Jonas. 
"  I  think  it  does,"  replied  the  chairman,  "  and  I  'm  proud  to  hear  you 
say  so.     B  pays  the  highest  lawful  interest — " 
"  That  an't  much,"  interrupted  Jonas. 

"  Right  !  quite  right  ! "  retorted  Tigg.  "  And  hard  it  is  upon 
the  part  of  the  law  that  it  should  be  so  confoundedly  down  upon  us 
unfortunate  victims ;  when  it  takes  such  amazing  good  interest  for  itself 
from  all  its  clients.  But  charity  begins  at  home,  and  justice  begins 
next  door.  Well!  The  law  being  hard  upon  us,  we're  not  exactly 
soft  upon  B  ;  for  besides  charging  B  the  regular  interest,  we  get  B's 
premium,  and  B's  friends'  premiums,  and  we  charge  B  for  the  bond, 
and,  whether  we  accept  him  or  not,  we  charge  B  for  "  inquiries  "  (we 
keep  a  man,  at  a  pound  a  week,  to  make  'em),  and  we  charge  B  a  trifle 
for  the  secretary  •  and,  in  short,  my  good  fellow,  we  stick  it  into  B  up 
hill  and  down  dale,  and  make  a  devilish  comfortable  little  property  out 
of  him.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  I  drive  B,  in  point  of  fact,"  said  Tigg,  pointing 
to  the  cabriolet,  "  and  a  thorough-bred  horse  he  is.     Ha,  ha,  ha  !" 

Jonas  enjoyed  this  joke  very  much  indeed.  It  was  quite  in  his 
peculiar  vein  of  humour. 

"  Then,"  said  Tigg  Montague,  "  we  grant  annuities  on  the  very  lowest 
and  most  advantageous  terms,  known  in  the  money  market ;  and  the 
old  ladies  and  gentlemen  down  in  the  country,  buy  'em.  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 
And  we  pay  'em  too — perhaps.     Ha,  ha,  ha  ! " 

"  But  there's  responsibility  in  that,"  said  Jonas,  looking  doubtful. 
"  I  take  it  all  myself,"  said  Tigg  Montague.  "  Here  I  am,  responsi- 
ble for  everything.  The  only  responsible  person  in  the  establishment  ! 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !  Then  there  are  the  Life  Insurances  without  loans  :  the 
common  policies.  Very  profitable,  very  comfortable.  Money  down,  you 
know  ;  repeated  every  year  ;  capital  fun  !" 

"  But  when  they  begin  to  fall  in  "  observed  Jonas.  "  It 's  all  very 
well,  while  the  office  is  young,  but  when  the  policies  begin  to  die — 
that 's  what  I  am  thinking  of" 

"  At  the  first  start,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Montague,  "  to  show  you 
how  correct  your  judgment  is,  we  had  a  couple  of  unlucky  deaths  that 
brought  us  down  to  a  grand  piano." 

"  Brought  you  down  where  ? "  cried  Jonas. 

"  I  give  you  my  sacred  word  of  honour,"  said  Tigg  Montague,  "  that 
I  raised  money  on  every  other  individual  piece  of  property,  and  was 
left  alone  in  the  world  with  a  grand  piano.  And  it  was  an  upright- 
grand  too,  so  that  I  couldn't  even  sit  upon  it.  But  my  dear  fellow  we 
got  over  it.  We  granted  a  great  many  new  policies  that  week  (liberal 
allowance  to  solicitors,  by  the  bye),  and  got  over  it  in  no  time.  When- 
ever they  should  chance  to  fall  in  heavily,  as  you  very  justly  observe 
they  may,  one  of  these  days ;  then — "  he  finished  the  sentence  in  so  low 
a  whisper,  that  only  one  disconnected  word  was  audible,  and  that 
imperfectly.     But  it  sounded  like  "  Bolt." 

"  Why,  you're  as  bold  as  brass  !"  said  Jonas,  in  the  utmost  admiration. 
"  A  man  can  well  afford  to  be  as  bold  as  brass,  my  good  fellow,  when 


336  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

he  gets  gold  in  exchange  !"  cried  the  Chairman,  with  a  laugh  that 
shook  him  from  head  to  foot.    "  You  11  dine  with  me  to-morrow  ?" 

"  At  what  time  ? "  asked  Jonas. 

"  Seven.  Here 's  my  card.  Take  the  documents.  I  see  you  11 
join  us  ! " 

"  I  don't  know  ahout  that,"  said  Jonas.  "  There 's  a  good  deal  to  be 
looked  into  first." 

"  You  shall  look,"  said  Montague,  slapping  him  on  the  back,  "  into 
anything  and  everything  you  please.  But  you  11  join  us,  I  am  con- 
vinced.    You  were  made  for  it.     Bullamy  !" 

Obedient  to  the  summons  and  the  little  bell,  the  waistcoat  appeared. 
Being  charged  to  show  Jonas  out,  it  went  before  ;  and  the  voice  within 
it  cried,  as  usual,  "  By  your  leave  there,  by  your  leave  !  Gentleman 
from  the  board-room,  by  your  leave  ! " 

Mr.  Montague  being  left  alone,  pondered  for  some  moments,  and  then 
said,  raising  his  voice, 

"  Is  Nadgett  in  the  office  there  ? " 

"  Here  he  is,  sir."  And  he  promptly  entered  :  shutting  the  board- 
room door  after  him,  as  carefully  as  if  he  were  about  to  plot  a  murder. 

He  was  the  man  at  a  pound  a  week  who  made  the  inquiries.  It  was 
no  virtue  or  merit  in  Nadgett  that  he  transacted  all  his  Anglo-Bengalee 
business  secretly  and  in  the  closest  confidence  ;  for  he  was  born  to  be  a 
secret.  He  was  a  short,  dried-up,  withered,  old  man,  who  seemed  to 
have  secreted  his  very  blood  ;  for  nobody  would  have  given  him  credit 
for  the  possession  of  six  ounces  of  it  in  his  whole  body.  How  he  lived 
was  a  secret ;  where  he  lived  was  a  secret ;  and  even  what  he  was,  was  a 
secret.  In  his  musty  old  pocket-book  he  carried  contradictory  cards, 
in  some  of  which  he  called  himself  a  coal-merchant,  in  others  a  wine- 
merchant,  in  others  a  commission-agent,  in  others  a  collector,  in  others 
an  accountant :  as  if  he  really  didn't  know  the  secret  himself.  He  was 
always  keeping  appointments  in  the  city,  and  the  other  man  never 
seemed  to  come.  He  would  sit  on  'Change  for  hours,  looking  at  every- 
body who  walked  in  and  out,  and  would  do  the  like  at  Garraway's,  and 
in  other  business  coffee-rooms,  in  some  of  which  he  would  be  occasionally 
seen  drying  a  very  damp  pocket-handkerchief  before  the  fire,  and  still 
looking  over  his  shoulder  for  the  man  who  never  appeared.  He  was 
mildewed,  threadbare,  shabby ;  always  had  flue  upon  his  legs  and  back  • 
and  kept  his  linen  so  secret  by  buttoning  up  and  wrapping  over,  that 
he  might  have  had  none — perhaps  he  hadn't.  He  carried  one  stained 
beaver  glove,  which  he  dangled  before  him  by  the  forefinger  as  he 
walked  or  sat ;  but  even  its  fellow  was  a  secret.  Some  people  said  he 
had  been  a  bankrupt,  others  that  he  had  gone  an  infant  into  an  ancient 
Chancery  suit  which  was  still  depending,  but  it  was  all  a  secret.  He 
carried  bits  of  sealing-wax  and  a  hieroglyphical  old  copper  seal  in  his 
pocket,  and  often  secretly  indited  letters  in  corner  boxes  of  the  trysting- 
places  before  mentioned ;  but  they  never  appeared  to  go  to  anybody,  for 
he  would  put  them  into  a  secret  place  in  his  coat,  and  deliver  them  to 
himself  weeks  afterwards,  very  much  to  his  own  surprise,  quite  yellow. 
He  was  that  sort  of  man  that  if  he  had  died  worth  a  million  of  money, 
or  had  died  worth  twopence  halfpenny,  everybody  would  have  been 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  337 

perfectly  satisfied,  and  would  have  said  it  was  just  as  they  expected. 
And  yet  he  belonged  to  a  class  ;  a  race  peculiar  to  the  city  ;  who  are 
secrets  as  profound  to  one  another,  as  they  are  to  the  rest  of  mankind. 

"  Mr.  Nadgett,"  said  Montague,  copying  Jonas  Chuzzlewit's  address 
upon  a  piece  of  paper,  from  the  card  which  was  still  lying  on  the  table, 
"  any  information  about  this  name,  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  myself. 
Don't  you  mind  what  it  is.  Any  you  can  scrape  together,  bring  me. 
Bring  it  to  rue,  Mr.  Nadgett." 

Nadgett  put  on  his  spectacles,  and  read  the  name  attentively;  then 
looked  at  the  chairman  over  his  glasses,  and  bowed ;  then  took  them 
off,  and  put  them  in  their  case ;  and  then  put  the  case  in  his  pocket. 
When  he  had  done  so,  he  looked,  without  his  spectacles,  at  the  paper  as 
it  lay  before  him,  and  at  the  same  time  produced  his  pocket-book  from 
somewhere  about  the  middle  of  his  spine.  Large  as  it  was,  it  was  very 
full  of  documents,  but  he  found  a  place  for  this  one  ;  and  having  clasped 
it  carefully,  passed  it  by  a  kind  of  solemn  legerdemain  into  the  same 
rea'ion  as  before. 

He  withdrew  with  another  bow  and  without  a  word  ;  opening  the 
door  no  wider  than  was  sufficient  for  his  passage  out  ;  and  shutting 
it  as  carefully  as  before.  The  chairman  of  the  board  employed  the 
rest  of  the  morning  in  affixing  his  sign-manual  of  gracious  acceptance 
to  various  new  proposals  of  annuity-purchase  and  insurance.  The 
Company  was  looking-up,  for  they  flowed  in  gaily. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

ME.  MONTAGUE    AT    HOME.      AND    MR.  JONAS    CHUZZLEWIT    AT    HOME. 

There  were  many  powerful  reasons  for  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  being  strongly 
prepossessed  in  favour  of  the  scheme  v/hich  its  great  originator  had  so 
boldly  laid  open  to  him  ;  but  three  among  them  stood  prominently 
forward.  Firstly,  there  was  money  to  be  made  by  it.  Secondly,  the 
money  had  the  peculiar  charm  of  being  sagaciously  obtained  at  other 
people's  cost.  Thirdly,  it  involved  much  outward  show  of  homage  and 
distinction  :  a  board  being  'an  awful  institution  in  its  own  sphere,  and 
a  director  a  mighty  man.  "  To  make  a  swingeing  profit,  have  a  lot  of 
chaps  to  order  about,  and  get  into  regular  good  society  by  one  and  the 
same  means,  and  them  so  easy  to  one's  hand,  ain't  such  a  bad  look-out," 
thought  Jonas.  The  latter  considerations  were  only  second  to  his 
avarice  ;  for,  conscious  that  there  was  nothing  in  his  person,  conduct, 
character,  or  accomplishments,  to  command  respect,  he  was  greedy  of 
power,  and  was,  in  his  heart,  as  much  a  tyrant  as  any  laurelled  con- 
queror on  record. 

But  he  determined  to  proceed  with  cunning  and  caution,  and  to  be 
very  keen  in  his  observation  of  the  gentility  of  Mr,  Montague's  private 
establishment.  For  it  no  more  occurred  to  this  shallow  knave  that 
Montague  wanted  him  to  be  so,  or  he  wouldn't  have  invited  him  while 
his  decision  was  yet  in  abeyance,  than  the  possibility  of  that  genius 
being  able  to  overreach  him  in  any  way,  pierced  through  his  self-conceit 

z 


338  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

by  the  inlet  of  a  needle's  point.  He  had  said,  in  the  outset,  that  Jonas 
was  too  sharp  for  him  ;  and  Jonas,  who  would  have  been  sharp  enough 
to  believe  him  in  nothing  else,  though  he  had  solemnly  sworn  it,  believed 
him  in  that  instantly. 

It  was  with  a  faultering  hand,  and  yet  with  an  imbecile  attempt  at 
a  swagger,  that  he  knocked  at  his  new  friend's  door  in  Pall  Mall  when 
the  appointed  hour  arrived.  Mr.  Bailey  quickly  answered  to  the  sum- 
mons. He  was  not  proud,  and  was  kindly  disposed  to  take  notice  of 
Jonas  ;  but  Jonas  had  forgotten  him. 

"Mr.  Montague  at  home?" 

"  I  should  hope  he  wos  at  home,  and  waiting  dinner,  too,"  said  Bailey, 
with  the  ease  of  an  old  acquaintance.  "  Will  you  take  your  hat  up 
along  with  you,  or  leave  it  here  V 

Mr.  Jonas  preferred  leaving  it  there. 

"  The  hold  name,  I  suppose  ?"  said  Bailey,  with  a  grin. 

Mr.  Jonas  stared  at  him,  in  mute  indignation. 

"  What,  don't  you  remember  hold  Mother  Todgers's  1"  said  Mr. 
Bailey,  with  his  favourite  action  of  the  knees  and  boots.  "  Don't  you 
remember  my  taking  your  name  up  to  the  young  ladies,  when  you  come 
a  courting  there  ?  A  reg'lar  scaly  old  shop,  warn't  it  1  Times  is  changed, 
ain't  they?     I  say,  how  you've  growed  !" 

Without  pausing  for  any  acknowledgment  of  this  compliment,  he 
ushered  the  visitor  up  stairs  ;  and  having  announced  him,  retired  with 
a  private  wink. 

The  lower  story  of  the  house  was  occupied  by  a  wealthy  tradesman, 
but  Mr.  Montague  had  all  the  upper  portion,  and  splendid  lodging 
it  was.  The  room  in  which  he  received  Jonas  was  a  spacious  and 
elegant  apartment,  furnished  with  extreme  magnificence  :  decorated 
with  pictures,  copies  from  the  antique  in  alabaster  and  marble,  china 
vases,  lofty  mirrors,  crimson  hangings  of  the  richest  silk,  gilded 
carvings,  luxurious  couches,  glistening  cabinets  inlaid  with  precious 
woods  :  costly  toys  of  every  sort  in  negligent  abundance.  The  only 
guests  besides  Jonas  were  the  Doctor,  the  resident  Director,  and  two 
other  gentlemen,  whom  Montague  presented  in  due  form. 

"  My  dear  friend,  I  am  delighted  to  see  you.  Jobling  you  know,  I 
believe?" 

"  I  think  so,"  said  the  Doctor  pleasantly,  as  he  stepped  out  of  the 
circle  to  shake  hands.  "  I  trust  I  have  that  honour.  I  hope  so.  My 
dear  sir,  I  see  you  well.    Quite  well  ?     That's  well ! " 

"  Mr.  Wolf,"  said  Montague,  as  soon  as  the  Doctor  would  allow  him 
to  introduce  the  two  others,  "Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Mr.  Pip,  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit." 

Both  gentlemen  were  exceedingly  happy  to  have  the  honour  of  making 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit's  acquaintance.  The  Doctor  drew  Jonas  a  little  apart, 
and  whispered  behind  his  hand  : 

"  Men  of  the  world,  my  dear  sir — men  of  the  world.  Hem  !  Mr. 
Wolf — literary  character — ^you  needn't  mention  it — remarkably  clever 
weekly  paper — oh,  remarkably  clever  !  Mr.  Pip — theatrical  man — 
capital  man  to  know — oh,  capital  man  !" 

"  Well ! "  said  Wolf,  folding  his  arms  and  resuming  a  conversation 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  339 

whicli  the  arrival  of  Jonas  had  interrupted.  "And  what  did  Lord 
Nobley  say  to  that  1" 

"Why,"  returned  Pip,  with  an  oath,  "he  didn't  know  what  to 
say.  Damme,  sir,  if  he  wasn't  as  mute  as  a  poker.  But  you  know 
what  a  good  fellow  Nobley  is  ! " 

"  The  best  fellow  in  the  world  !  "  cried  Wolf  "  It  was  only  last  week 
that  Nobley  said  to  me,  '  By  Gad,  Wolf,  I  've  got  a  living  to  bestow,  and 
if  you  had  but  been  brought  up  at  the  University,  strike  me  blind  if  I 
wouldn't  have  made  a  parson  of  you  ! ' " 

"  Just  like  him,"  said  Pip  with  another  oath.  "  And  he  'd  have 
done  it  ! " 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it,"  said  Wolf.     "  But  you  were  going  to  tell  us  " — 

"  Oh,  yes  !  "  cried  Pip.  "  To  be  sure.  So  I  was.  At  first  he  was 
dumb — sewn  up,  dead,  sir — but  after  a  minute  he  said  to  the  Duke, 
^  Here's  Pip.  Ask  Pip.  Pip 's  our  mutual  friend.  Ask  Pip.  He 
knows.'  '  Damme  ! '  said  the  Duke,  '  I  appeal  to  Pip  then.  Come 
Pip.  Bandy  or  not  bandy  ?  Speak  out  ! '  '  Bandy,  your  Grrace,  by  the 
Lord  Harry! '  said  I.  '  Ha,  ha  !'  laughed  the  Duke.  '  To  be  sure  she 
is.  Bravo  Pip.  Well  said  Pip.  I  wish  I  may  die  if  you  're  not  a 
trump,  Pip.  Pop  me  down  among  your  fashionable  visitors  whenever 
I  'm  in  town,  Pip.'     And  so  I  do,  to  this  day." 

The  conclusion  of  this  story  gave  immense  satisfaction,  which  was  in 
no  degree  lessened  by  the  announcement  of  dinner.  Jonas  repaired  to 
the  dining-room,  along  with  his  distinguished  host,  and  took  his  seat  at 
the  board  between  that  individual  and  his  friend  the  Doctor.  The  rest 
fell  into  their  places  like  men  who  were  well  accustomed  to  the  house  ; 
and  dinner  was  done  full  justice  to,  by  all  parties. 

It  was  as  good  a  one  as  money  (or  credit,  no  matter  which)  could  pro- 
duce. The  dishes,  wines,  and  fruits  were  of  the  choicest  kind.  Every- 
thing was  elegantly  served.  The  plate  was  gorgeous.  Mr.  Jonas  was 
in  the  midst  of  a  calculation  of  the  value  of  this  item  alone,  when  his 
host  disturbed  him. 

"  A  glass  of  wine  ?  " 

"'  Oh  ! "  said  Jonas,  who  had  had  several  glasses  already.  "  As  much 
of  that,  as  you  like  !     It 's  too  good  to  refuse." 

"  Well  said,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  !  "  cried  Wolf. 

"  Tom  Gag,  upon  my  soul  !  "  said  Pip. 

"  Positively,  you  know,  that 's — ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  observed  the  Doctor, 
laying  down  his  knife  and  fork  for  one  instant,  and  then  going  to 
work  again,  pell-mell — "  that's  epigrammatic  ;  quite  !  " 

"  You  're  tolerably  comfortable,  I  hope  1 "  said  Tigg,  apart  to 
Jonas. 

"  Oh  !  You  need  n't  trouble  your  head  about  7ne,''  he  replied. 
''  Famous  !  " 

"  I  thought  it  best  not  to  have  a  party,"  said  Tigg.    "  You  feel  that  ?" 

"  Why,  what  do  you  call  this  1  "  retorted  Jonas.  "  You  don't  mean 
to  say  you  do  this  every  day,  do  you  1  " 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  said  Montague,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  "  every 
day  of  my  life,  when  I  dine  at  home.  This  is  my  common  style.  It 
was  of  no  use  having  anything  uncommon  for  you.     You  'd  have  seen 

z  2 


340  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

through  it.     '  You  11  have  a  party  ? '  said  Crimple.     '  No,  I  won't/  I 
said;  '  he  shall  take  us  in  the  rough  ! '" 

"  And  pretty  smooth  too,  ecod  ! "  said  Jonas,  glancing  round  the 
table.     "  This  don't  cost  a  trifle." 

"  Why,  to  be  candid  with  you,  it  does  not,"  returned  the  other.  "  But 
I  like  this  sort  of  thing.     It 's  the  way  I  spend  my  money." 

Jonas  thrust  his  tongue  into  his  cheek,  and  said,  "  Was  it  1 " 

"  When  you  join  us,  you  won't  get  rid  of  your  share  of  the  profits  in 
the  same  way  1 "  said  Tigg. 

"  Quite  different,"  retorted  Jonas. 

"  Well,  and  you're  right,"  said  Tigg,  with  friendly  candour.  "  You 
needn't.  It 's  not  necessary.  One  of  a  Company  must  do  it  to  hold  the 
connexion  together ;  but,  as  I  take  a  pleasure  in  it,  that 's  my  department. 
You  don't  mind  dining  expensively  at  another  man's  expense,  I  hope  V 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Jonas. 

"  Then  I  hope  you'll  often  dine  with  me  ?" 

"  Ah  !"  said  Jonas,  "  I  don't  mind.     On  the  contrary." 

"  And  I  '11  never  attempt  to  talk  business  to  you  over  wine,  I  take 
my  oath,"  said  Tigg.  "  Oh  deep,  deep,  deep  of  you  this  morning  !  I 
must  tell  'em  that.  They're  the  very  men  to  enjoy  it.  Pip,  my  good 
fellow,  I  've  a  splendid  little  trait  to  tell  you  of  my  friend  Chuzzlewit, 
who  is  the  deepest  dog  I  know  :  I  give  you  my  sacred  word  of  honour 
he  is  the  deepest  dog  I  know,  Pip  !" 

Pip  swore  a  frightful  oath  that  he  was  sure  of  it  already  ;  and  the 
anecdote,  being  told,  was  received  with  loud  applause,  as  an  iucon- 
testible  proof  of  Mr.  Jonas's  greatness.  Pip,  in  a  natural  spirit  of 
emulation,  then  related  some  instances  of  his  own  depth ;  and  Wolf, 
not  to  be  left  behind-hand,  recited  the  leading  points  of  one  or  two 
vastly  humorous  articles  he  was  then  preparing.  These  lucubrations, 
being  of  what  he  called  "  a  warm  complexion,"  were  highly  approved  ; 
and  all  the  company  agreed  that  they  were  full  of  point. 

"  Men  of  the  world,  my  dear  sir,"  Jobling  whispered  to  Jonas ; 
"  thorough  men  of  the  world  !  To  a  professional  person  like  myself,  it's 
quite  refreshing  to  come  into  this  kind  of  society.  It's  not  only  agree- 
able— and  nothing  caji  be  more  agreeable — but  it's  philosophically 
improving.     It's  character,  my  dear  sir  ;  character  !" 

It  is  so  pleasant  to  find  real  merit  appreciated,  whatever  its  particular 
walk  in  life  may  be,  that  the  general  harmony  of  the  company  was 
doubtless  much  promoted  by  their  knowing  that  the  two  men  of  the 
world  were  held  in  great  esteem  by  the  upper  classes  of  society,  and  by 
the  gallant  defenders  of  their  country  in  the  army  and  navy,  but  par- 
ticularly the  former.  The  least  of  their  stories  had  a  colonel  in  it ; 
lords  were  as  plentiful  as  oaths  ;  and  even  the  Blood  Royal  ran  in  the 
muddy  channel  of  their  personal  recollections. 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  didn't  know  him,  I'm  afraid,"  said  Wolf,  in  reference 
to  a  certain  personage  of  illustrious  descent,  who  had  previously  figured 
in  a  reminiscence. 

"  No,"  said  Tmy,     «  But  we  must  brins'  him  into  contact  with  this 

p  CO  o 

sort  of  fellows." 

"  He  was  very  fond  of  literature,"  observed  Wolf.     . 


MARTIN    CliUZZLEWIT.  '  341 

"  Was  he  V  said  Tigg. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  he  took  my  paper  regularly  foi  many  years.  Dc  you 
know  he  said  some  good  things  now  and  then  ?  He  asked  a  certain 
Viscount,  who's  a  friend  of  mine — Pip  knows  him — 'What's  the 
editor's  name,  what 's  the  editor's  name  T  '  Wolf  '  Wolf,  eh  1  Sharp 
hiter.  Wolf.  We  must  keep  the  wolf  from  the  door,  as  the  proverb  says/ 
It  was  very  well.     And  being  complimentary,  I  printed  it." 

"  But  the  Viscount 's  the  boy  !"  cried  Pip,  who  invented  a  new 
oath  for  the  introduction  of  everything  he  said.  "  The  Viscount 's  the 
boy  !  He  came  into  our  place  one  night  to  take  Her  home  ;  rather 
slued,  but  not  much  ;  and  said,  ^  Where  's  Pip  1  I  want  to  see  Pip. 
Produce  Pip!' — 'What's  the  row,  my  lord?' — '  Shakspeare 's  an 
infernal  humbug,  Pip  !  What 's  the  good  of  Shakspeare,  Pip  ?  I 
never  read  him.  What  the  devil  is  it  all  about,  Pip  1  There 's  a  lot  of 
feet  in  Shakspeare's  verse,  but  there  an't  any  legs  worth  mentioning  in 
Shakspeare's  plays,  are  there,  Pip  ?  Juliet,  Desdemona,  Lady  Mac- 
beth, and  all  the  rest  of  'em,  whatever  their  names  are,  might  as  well 
have  no  legs  at  all,  for  anything  the  audience  know  about  it,  Pip. 
Why,  in  that  respect  they're  all  Miss  Biffins  to  the  audience,  Pip.  I  11 
tell  you  what  it  is.  What  the  people  call  dramatic  poetry  is  a  collection  of 
sermons.  Do  I  go  to  the  theatre  to  be  lectured  1  No,  Pip.  If  I  wanted 
that,  I  'd  go  to  church.  What's  the  legitimate  object  of  the  drama,  Pip  1 
Human  nature.  What  are  legs  1  Human  nature.  Then  let  us  have 
plenty  of  leg  pieces,  Pip,  and  I'll  stand  by  you,  my  buck  !'  And  I  am 
proud  to  say,"  added  Pip,  "  that  he  did  stand  by  me,  handsomelj^" 

The  conversation  now  becoming  general,  Mr.  Jonas's  opinion  was 
requested  on  this  subject ;  and  as  it  was  in  full  accordance  with  the 
sentiments  of  Mr.  Pip,  that  gentleman  was  extremely'  gratified. 
Indeed,  both  himself  and  Wolf  had  so  much  in  common  with  Jonas, 
that  they  became  very  amicable  ;  and  between  their  increasing  friendship 
and  the  fumes  of  wine,  Jonas  grew  talkative. 

It  does  not  follow  in  the  case  of  such  a  person  that  the  more  talkative 
he  becomes,  the  more  agreeable  he  is  ;  on  the  contrary,  his  merits  show  to 
most  advantage,  perhaps,  in  silence.  Having  no  means,  as  he  thought,  of 
putting  himself  on  an  equality  with  the  rest,  but  by  the  assertion  of  that 
depth  and  sharpness  on  which  he  had  been  complimented,  Jonas  exhibited 
that  faculty  to  the  utmost ;  and  was  so  deep  and  so  sharp  that  he  lost 
himself  in  his  own  profundity,  and  cut  his  fingers  with  his  own  edge-tools. 

It  was  especially  in  his  way  and  character  to  exhibit  his  quality  at 
his  entertainer's  expense  ;  and  while  he  drank  of  the  sparkling  wines, 
and  partook  of  his  monstrous  profusion,  to  ridicule  the  extravagance 
which  had  set  such  costly  fare  before  him.  Even  at  such  a  wanton 
board,  and  in  such  more  than  doubtful  company,  this  might  have  proved 
a  disagreeable  experiment,  but  that  Tigg  and  Crimple,  studying  to 
understand  their  man  thoroughly,  gave  him  what  license  he  chose  : 
knowing  that  the  more  he  took,  tlie  better  for  their  purpose.  And  thus 
while  the  blundering  cheat — gull  that  he  was,  for  all  his  cunning — 
thought  himself  rolled  up  hedge-hog  fashion,  with  his  sharpest  points 
towards  them,  he  was,  in  fact,  betraying  all  his  vulnerable  parts  to 
their  unwinking  watchfulness. 


342  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Whether  the  two  gentlemen  who  contributed  so  much  to  the  Doctor's 
philosophical  knowledge  (by  the  way,  the  Doctor  slipped  off  quietly, 
after  swallowing  his  usual  amount  of  wine)  had  had  their  cue  distinctly 
from  the  host,  or  took  it  from  what  they  saw  and  heard,  they  acted  their 
parts  very  well.  They  solicited  the  honour  of  Jonas's  better  acquaint- 
ance ;  trusted  that  they  would  have  the  pleasure  of  introducing  him 
into  that  elevated  society  in  which  he  was  so  well  qualified  to  shine  ;  and 
informed  him,  in  the  most  friendly  manner,  that  the  advantages  of  their 
respective  establishments  were  entirely  at  his  control.  In  a  word,  they 
said  "  Be  one  of  us  ! "  And  Jonas  said  he  was  infinitely  obliged  to 
them,  and  he  would  be  ;  adding  within  himself,  that  so  long  as  they 
"  stood  treat,"  there  was  nothing  he  would  like  better. 

After  coffee,  which  was  served  in  the  drawing-room,  there  was  a  short 
interval  (mainly  sustained  by  Pip  and  Wolf)  of  conversation ;  rather 
highly  spiced  and  strongly  seasoned.  When  it  flagged,  Jonas  took  it 
up,  and  showed  considerable  humour  in  appraising  the  furniture  ; 
inquiring  whether  such  an  article  was  paid  for  ;  what  it  had  originally 
cost ;  and  the  like.  In  all  of  this,  he  was,  as  he  considered,  desperately 
hard  on  Montague,  and  very  demonstrative  of  his  own  brilliant  parts. 

Some  Champagne  Punch  gave  a  new  though  temporary  fillip  to  the 
entertainments  of  the  evening.  For  after  leading  to  some  noisy  pro- 
ceedings, which  were  not  at  all  intelligible,  it  ended  in  the  unsteady 
departure  of  the  two  gentlemen  of  the  world,  and  the  slumber  of  Mr. 
Jonas  upon  one  of  the  sofas. 

As  he  could  not  be  made  to  understand  where  he  was,  Mr.  Bailey 
received  orders  to  call  a  hackney-coach,  and  take  him  home  :  which 
that  young  gentleman  roused  himself  from  an  uneasy  sleep  in  the  hall, 
to  do.     It  being  now  almost  three  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

"  Is  he  hooked,  do  you  think  ?"  whispered  Crimple,  as  himself  and 
partner  stood  in  a  distant  part  of  the  room  observing  him  as  he  lay. 

"  Ay ! "  said  Tigg,  in  the  same  tone.  "  With  a  strong  iron,  per- 
haps.    Has  Nadgett  been  here  to-night  1 " 

"  Yes.  I  went  out  to  him.  Hearing  you  had  company,  he  went 
away." 

"  Why  did  he  do  that  ? " 

"  He  said  he  would  come  back  early  in  the  morning,  before  you  were 
out  of  bed." 

"  Tell  them  to  be  sure  and  send  him  up  to  my  bedside.  Hush  I 
Here 's  the  boy  !  Now  Mr.  Bailey,  take  this  gentleman  home,  and  see 
him  safely  in.     Hallo  here  !    Why  Chuzzlewit,  halloa  !  " 

They  got  him  upright  with  some  difficulty,  and  assisted  him  down 
stairs,  where  they  put  his  hat  upon  his  head,  and  tumbled  him  into  the 
coach.  Mr.  Bailey  having  shut  him  in,  mounted  the  box  beside  the 
coachman,  and  smoked  his  cigar  with  an  air  of  particular  satisfaction ; 
the  undertaking  in  which  he  was  engaged  having  a  free  and  sporting 
character  about  it,  which  was  quite  congenial  to  his  taste. 

Arriving  in  due  time  at  the  house  in  the  city,  Mr.  Bailey  jumped 
down,  and  expressed  the  lively  nature  of  his  feelings,  in  a  knock  :  the 
like  of  which  had  probably  not  been  heard  in  that  quarter  since  the 
great  fire  of  London.     Going  out  into  the  road  to  observe  the  effect  of 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  343 

this  feat,  he  saw  that  a  dim  light,  previously  visible  at  an  upper  window, 
had  been  already  removed  and  was  travelling  down-stairs.  To  obtain  a 
foreknowledge  of  the  bearer  of  this  taper,  Mr.  Bailey  skipped  back  to  the 
door  again,  and  put  his  eye  to  the  keyhole. 

It  was  the  merry  one  herself  But  sadly,  strangely  altered  !  So  careworn 
and  dejected,  so  faultering  and  full  of  fear  ;  so  fallen,  humbled,  broken  ; 
that  to  have  seen  her,  quiet  in  her  coffin,  would  have  been  a  less  surprise. 
She  set  the  light  upon  a  bracket  in  the  hall,  and  laid  her  hand  upon 
her  heart ;  upon  her  eyes  ;  upon  her  burning  head.  Then  she  came 
on  towards  the  door,'with  such  a  wild  and  hurried  step,  that  Mr.  Bailey 
lost  his  self-possession,  and  still  had  his  eye  where  the  keyhole  had  been, 
when  she  opened  it. 

"  Aha  1"  said  Mr.  Bailey,  with  an  effort.  "  There  you  are,  are  you  1 
What's  the  matter  1     Ain't  you  well,  though  V 

In  the  midst  of  her  astonishment  as  she  recognised  him  in  his  altered 
dress,  so  much  of  her  old  smile  came  back  to  her  face  that  Bailey  was 
glad.  But  next  moment  he  was  sorry  again,  for  he  saw  tears  standing 
in  her  poor  dim  eyes. 

"  Don't  be  frightened,"  said  Bailey.  "  There  ain't  nothing  the  matter. 
I  've  brought  home  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  He  ain't  ill.  He  's  only  a  little 
swipey  you  know."  Mr.  Bailey  reeled  in  his  boots,  to  express  intoxication. 
"  Have  you  come  from  Mrs.  Todgers's?"  asked  Merry,  trembling. 
"  Todgers's,  bless  you  !  No  !"  cried  Mr.  Bailey.  '•  I  haven't  got  nothing 
to  do  with  Todgers's.  I  cut  that  connexion  long  ago.  He's  been  a 
dining  with  my  governor  at  the  west-end.  Didn't  you  know  he  was  a 
comin'  to  see  us?" 

"  No,"  she  said,  faintly. 

"  Oh  yes  !  We  're  heavy  swells  too,  and  so  I  tell  you.  Don't  you 
come  out,  a  catching  cold  in  your  head,  /'ll  wake  him  !"  And  Mr. 
Bailey  expressing  in  his  demeanour  a  perfect  confidence  that  he  could 
carry  him  in  with  ease,  if  necessary,  opened  the  coach-door,  let  do"\ATi  the 
steps,  and  giving  Jonas  a  shake,  cried  "  We  've  got  home,  my  flower  I 
Tumble  up  then  !" 

He  was  so  far  recovered  as  to  be  able  to  respond  to  this  appeal,  and  to 
come  stumbling  out  of  the  coach  in  a  heap,  to  the  great  hazard  of  Mr. 
Bailey's  person.  When  he  got  upon  the  pavement,  Mr.  Bailey  first 
butted  at  him  in  front,  and  then  dexterously  propped  him  up  behind  ; 
and  having  steadied  him  by  these  means,  he  assisted  him  into  the  house. 
"  You  go  up  first  with  the  light,"  said  Bailey  to  Mrs.  Jonas,  "  and 
we'llfoller.  Don't  tremble  so.  He  won't  hurt  you.  When /'ve  had  a 
drop  too  much,  I  'm  full  of  good  natur  myself" 

She  went  on  before  ;  and  her  husband  and  Bailey,  by  dint  of  tumbling 
over  each  other,  and  knocking  themselves  about,  got  at  last  into  the 
sitting-room  above  stairs,  where  Jonas  staggered  into  a  seat. 

"There!"  said  Mr.  Bailey.  "He's  all  right  now.  You  ain't  got 
nothing  to  cry  for,  bless  you  !     He's  righter  than  a  trivet !" 

The  ill-favoured  brute,  with  dress  awry,  and  sodden  face,  and  rumpled 
hair,  sat  blinking  and  drooping,  and  rolling  his  idiotic  eyes  about,  until, 
becoming  conscious  by  degrees,  he  recognised  his  wife,  and  shook  his  fist 
at  her. 


344  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

"  AK  ! "  cried  Mr.  Bailey,  squaring  his  arms  with  a  sudden  emotion. 
"  What,  you  're  wicious,  are  you  ?  Would  you  though  !  You  'd  better 
not!" 

"  Pray,  go  away!"  said  Merry.  "Bailey,  my  good  boy,  go  home. 
Jonas  !"  she  said  ;  timidly  laying  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and 
bending  her  head  down,  over  him  ;  "Jonas  !" 

"  Look  at  her  !"  cried  Jonas,  pushing  her  off  with  his  extended  arm. 
"  Look  here  !     Look  at  her  !     Here 's  a  bargain  for  a  man  !" 

"  Dear  Jonas !" 

"  Dear  Devil !"  he  replied,  with  a  fierce  gesture.  "  You're  a  pretty 
clog  to  be  tied  to  a  man  for  life,  you  mewling,  white-faced  cat  I  Get  out 
of  my  sight!" 

"I  know  you  don't  mean  it,  Jonas.  You  wouldn't  say  it  if  you 
were  sober." 

With  affected  gaiety  she  gave  Bailey  a  piece  of  money,  and  again 
implored  him  to  be  gone.  Her  entreaty  was  so  earnest,  that  the  boy 
had  not  the  heart  to  stay  there.  But  he  stopped  at  the  bottom  of  the 
stairs,  and  listened. 

"  I  wouldn't  say  it  if  I  was  sober!"  retorted  Jonas.  "You  know 
oetter.     Have  I  never  said  it  when  I  was  sober?" 

"Often,  indeed  !"  she  answered  through  her  tears. 

"  Hark  ye  !"  cried  Jonas,  stamping  his  foot  upon  the  ground.  "  You 
made  me  bear  your  pretty  humours  once,  and  ecod  I  '11  make  you  bear 
mine  now.  I  always  promised  myself  I  would.  I  married  you  that  I 
might.     I  '11  know  who 's  master,  and  w^ho  's  slave  ! " 

"  Heaven  knows  I  am  obedient!"  said  the  sobbing  girl.  "Much 
more  so  than  I  ever  thought  to  be  !" 

Jonas  laughed  in  his  drunken  exultation.  "  What  !  you  're  finding- 
it  out,  are  you  !  Patience,  and  you  will  in  time  !  Griffins  have  claws, 
my  girl.  There 's  not  a  pretty  slight  you  ever  put  upon  me,  nor  a 
pretty  trick  you  ever  played  me,  nor  a  pretty  insolence  you  ever  showed 
me,  that  I  w^on't  pay  back  a  hundred-fold.  VV^hat  else  did  I  marry  you 
for.      You,  too  ! ''  he  said,  with  coarse  contemj^t. 

It  might  have  softened  him — indeed  it  might — to  hear  her  turn  a 
little  fragment  of  a  song  he  used  to  say  he  liked  ;  trying,  with  a  heart 
so  full,  to  win  him  back. 

"  Oho  !"  he  said,  "  you  're  deaf,  are  you  1  You  don't  hear  me,  eli  ? 
So  much  the  better  for  you.  I  hate  you.  I  hate  myself,  for  having 
been  fool  enough  to  strap  a  pack  upon  my  back  for  the  pleasure  of 
treading  on  it  whenever  I  choose.  Why,  things  have  opened  to  me,  now, 
so  that  I  might  marry  almost  where  I  liked.  But  I  wouldn't ;  I  'd  keep 
single.  I  ought  to  be  single,  among  the  friends  /  know.  Instead  of 
that,  here  I  am,  tied  like  a  log  to  you.  Pah  !  Why  do  you  show  your 
pale  face  when  I  come  home  1     Am  I  never  to  forget  you  V 

"How  late  it  is  !"  she  said  cheerfully  :  opening  the  shutter,  after  an 
interval  of  silence.     "  Broad  day,  Jonas  ! " 

"  Broad  day  or  black  night,  what  do  /  care  !"  was  the  kind  rejoinder. 

"  The  night  passed  quickly,  too.     I  don't  mind  sitting  up,  at  all." 

"Sit  up  for  me  again,  if  you  dare  !"  growled  Jonas. 

"  I  was  reading,"  she  proceeded,  "  all  night  long.      I  began  when 


MARTIN"    CHUZZLEWIT.  345 

you  went  out,  and  read  till  you  came  home  again.  The  strangest 
story,  Jonas  !     And  true,  the  book  says.     I  '11  tell  it  you  to-morrow." 

"  True,  was  it  ?"  said  Jonas,  doggedly. 

"  So  the  book  says." 

"  Was  there  anything  In  it,  about  a  man's  being  determined  to  con- 
quer his  wife,  break  her  spirit,  bend  her  temper,  crush  all  her  humours 
like  so  many  nutshells — kill  her,  for  aught  I  know  f  said  Jonas. 

"  No.     Not  a  word,"  she  answered  quickly. 

"  Ah  !"  he  returned.  "  That  '11  be  a  true  story  though,  before  long  ; 
for  all  the  book  says  nothing  about  it.  It 's  a  lying  book,  I  see.  A 
fit  book  for  a  lying  reader.     But  you  're  deaf.     I  forgot  that." 

There  was  another  interval  of  silence  ;  and  the  boy  was  stealing  away, 
when  he  heard  her  footstep  on  the  floor,  and  stopped.  She  went  up  to 
him,  as  it  seemed,  and  spoke  lovingly  :  saying  that  she  would  defer  to 
him  in  everything,  and  would  consult  his  wishes  and  obey  them,  and 
they  might  be  very  happy  if  he  would  be  gentle  with  her.  He 
answered  with  an  imprecation,  and — 

Not  with  a  blow  1  Yes.  Stern  truth  against  the  base-souled  villain  : 
with  a  blow. 

No  angry  cries  ;  no  loud  reproaches.  Even  her  weeping  and  her  sobs 
were  stifled  by  her  clinging  round  him.  She  only  said,  repeating  it  in 
agony  of  heart.  How  could  he,  could  he,  could  he — and  lost  utterance 
in  tears. 

Oh  woman,  God  beloved  in  old  Jerusalem  !  The  best  among  us  need 
deal  lightly  with  thy  faults,  if  only  for  the  punishment  thy  nature  will 
endure,  in  bearing  heavy  evidence  against  us,  on  the  Day  of  Judgment  ! 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

IN    WHICH    SOME    PEOPLE     ARE     PRECOCIOUS,     OTHERS     PROFESSIONAL,     AND 
OTHERS    MYSTERIOUS  :    ALL    IN    THEIR    SEVERAL    WAYS. 

It  may  have  been  the  restless  remembrance  of  what  he  had  seen  and 
heard  over-night,  or  it  may  have  been  no  deeper  mental  operation  than 
the  discovery  that  he  had  nothing  to  do,  which  caused  Mr.  Bailey,  on 
the  following  afternoon,  to  feel  particularly  disposed  for  agreeable 
society,  and  prompted  him  to  pay  a  visit  to  his  friend  Poll  Sweedlepipe. 
On  the  little  bell  giving  clamorous  notice  of  a  visitor's  approach  (for 
Mr.  Bailey  came  in  at  the  door  with  a  lunge,  to  get  as  much  sound  out 
of  the  bell  as  possible).  Poll  Sweedlepipe  desisted  from  the  contempla- 
tion of  a  favourite  owl,  and  gave  his  young  friend  hearty  welcome. 

"  Why,  you  look  smarter  by  day,"  said  Poll,  "  than  you  do  by  candle- 
light.    I  never  see  such  a  tight  young  dasher." 

"  Pteether  so,  Polly.     How  's  our  fair  friend  Sairah  1 " 
«  Oh,  she  's  pretty  well,"  said  Poll.     "  She 's  at  home." 
"  There 's  the  remains  of  a  fine  woman  about  Sairah,  Poll,"  observed 
Mr.  Bailey,  with  genteel  indiflerence. 

"Oh  1"  thought  Poll,  "he's  old.     He  must  be  very  old  !" 
"  Too  much  crumb,  you  know,"    said   Mr.  Bailey ;    '-  too  fat.  Poll. 
But  there's  many  worse  at  her  time  of  life." 


346  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

"The  very  owl's  a  opening  his  eyes!"  thought  Poll.  "I  don't 
wonder  at  it,  in  a  bird  of  his  opinions." 

He  happened  to  have  been  sharpening  his  razors,  which  were  lying 
open  in  a  row,  while  a  huge  strop  dangled  from  the  wall.  Glancing  at 
these  preparations,  Mr.  Bailey  stroked  his  chin,  and  a  thought  appeared 
to  occur  to  him. 

"Poll,"  he  said,  "I  ain't  as  neat  as  I  could  wish  about  the  gills. 
Being  here,  I  may  as  well  have  a  shave,  and  get  trimmed  close." 

The  barber  stood  aghast ;  but  Mr.  Bailey  divested  himself  of  his 
neckcloth,  and  sat  down  in  the  easy  shaving  chair  with  all  the  dignity 
and  confidence  in  life.  There  was  no  resisting  his  manner.  The  evi- 
dence of  sight  and  touch  became  as  nothing.  His  chin  was  as  smooth 
as  a  new-laid  egg  or  a  scraped  Dutch  cheese  ;  but  Poll  Sweedlepipe 
wouldn't  have  ventured  to  deny,  on  affidavit,  that  he  had  the  beard  of 
a  Jewish  rabbi. 

"  Go  with  the  grain.  Poll,  all  round,  please,"  said  Mr.  Bailey,  screwing 
up  his  face  for  the  reception  of  the  lather.  "  You  may  do  wot  you  like 
with  the  bits  of  whisker.     I  don't  care  for  'em." 

The  meek  little  barber  stood  gazing  at  him  with  the  brush  and  soap- 
dish  in  his  hand,  stirring  them  round  and  round  in  a  ludicrous  uncer- 
tainty, as  if  he  were  disabled  by  some  fascination  from  beginning.  At 
last  he  made  a  dash  at  Mr.  Bailey's  cheek.  Then  he  stopped  again,  as 
if  the  ghost  of  a  beard  had  suddenly  receded  from  his  touch  ;  but 
receiving  mild  encouragement  from  Mr.  Bailey,  in  the  form  of  an  adju- 
ration to  "  Go  in  and  win,"  he  lathered  him  bountifully.  Mr.  Bailey 
smiled  through  the  suds  in  his  satisfaction. 

"  Gently  over  the  stones.  Poll.     Go  a-tiptoe  over  the  pimples  ! " 

Poll  Sweedlepipe  obeyed,  and  scraped  the  lather  off  again  with  parti- 
cular care.  Mr.  Bailey  squinted  at  every  successive  dab,  as  it  was 
deposited  on  a  cloth  on  his  left  shoulder,  and  seemed,  with  a  microscopic 
eye,  to  detect  some  bristles  in  it ;  for  he  murmured  more  than  once, 
"  Beether  redder  than  I  could  wish.  Poll."  The  operation  being  con- 
cluded, Paul  fell  back  and  stared  at  him  again,  while  Mr.  Bailey,  wiping 
his  face  on  the  jack-towel,  remarked,  "  that  arter  late  hours  nothing 
freshened  up  a  man  so  much  as  a  easy  shave." 

He  was  in  the  act  of  tying  his  cravat  at  the  glass,  without  his  coat, 
and  Poll  had  wiped  his  razor,  ready  for  the  next  customer,  when  Mrs. 
Gamp,  coming  down  stairs,  looked  in  at  the  shop-door  to  give  the  barber 
neighbourly  good  day.  Feeling  for  her  unfortunate  situation,  in  having 
conceived  a  regard  for  himself  which  it  was  not  in  the  nature  of  things 
that  he  could  return,  Mr.  Bailey  hastened  to  soothe  her  with  words  of 
kindness. 

"Hallo!"  he  said,  "  Sairah  !  I  needn't  ask  you  how  you've  been 
this  long  time,  for  you  're  in  full  bloom.  All  a  blowin'  and  a  growin'  ; 
ain't  she,  Polly  V 

"  Why,  drat  the  Bragian  boldness  of  that  boy  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp, 
though  not  displeased.  "  What  a  imperent  young  sparrow  it  is  !  I 
wouldn't  be  that  creetur  s  mother  not  for  fifty  pound  ! " 

Mr.  Bailey  regarded  this  as  a  delicate  confession  of  her  attachment, 
and  a  hint  that  no  pecuniary  gain  could  recompense  her  for  its  being 


Jp 


CaaJ-^Qy%^ 


%^'^^'7- 


5IARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  347 

rendered  hopeless.  He  felt  flattered.  Disinterested  affection  is  always 
flattering. 

"  Ah,  dear !"  moaned  Mrs.  Gamp,  sinking  into  the  shaving  chair, 
"  That  there  blessed  Bull,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  has  done  his  wery  best  to 
conker  me.  Of  all  the  trying  invalieges  in  this  wally  of  the  shadder, 
that  one  beats  'em  black  and  blue." 

It  was  the  practice  of  Mrs.  Gamp  and  her  friends  in  the  profession,  to 
say  this  of  all  the  easy  customers ;  as  having  at  once  the  effect  of  dis- 
couraging competitors  for  office,  and  accounting  for  the  necessity  of  high 
living  on  the  part  of  the  nurses. 

"  Talk  of  constitooshun  !"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed.  "  A  person's  con- 
stitooshun  need  be  made  of  Bricks  to  stand  it.  Mrs.  Harris  jestly  says 
to  me,  but  t'other  day,  '  Oh  !  Sairey  Gamp,'  she  says,  '  how  is  it  done  T 
'  Mrs.  Harris,  ma'am,'  I  says  to  her,  '  we  gives  no  trust  ourselves,  and 
puts  a  deal  o'  trust  elsevere  ;  these  is  our  religious  feelins,  and  we  finds 
'em  answer.'  '  Sairey,'  says  Mrs.  Harris,  '  sech  is  life.  Vich  likeways 
is  the  hend  of  all  things  !'  " 

The  barber  gave  a  soft  murmur,  as  much  as  to  say  that  Mrs.  Harris's 
remark,  though  perhaps  not  quite  so  intelligible  as  could  be  desired 
from  such  an  authority,  did  equal  honour  to  her  head  and  to  her  heart. 

"  And  here,"  continued  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  and  here  am  I  a  goin  twenty 
mile  in  distant,  on  as  wentersome  a  chance  as  ever  any  one  as  monthlied 
ever  run,  I  do  believe.  Says  Mrs.  Harris,  with  a  woman's  and  a 
mother's  art  a  beatin  in  her  human  breast,  says  she  to  me,  '  You  're  not 
a  goin,  Sairey,  Lord  forgive  you  !'  '  Why  am  I  not  a  going,  Mrs. 
Harris  V  I  replies.  '  Mrs.  Gill,'  I  says,  '  wos  never  wrong  with  six  ; 
and  is  it  likely,  ma'am — I  ast  you  as  a  mother — that  she  will  begin 
to  be  unreg'lar  now.  Often  and  often  have  I  heerd  him  say,'  I  says  to 
Mrs.  Harris,  'meaning  Mr.  Gill,  that  he  would  back  his  wife  agen 
Moore's  almanack,  to  name  the  very  day  and  hour,  for  ninepence  farden. 
Is  it  likely,  ma'am,'  I  says,  '  as  she  will  fail  this  once  ?'  Says  Mrs. 
Harris,  '  No,  ma'am,  not  [in  the  course  of  nater.  But,'  she  says,  the 
tears  a  fillin  in  her  eyes,  '  you  knows  much  betterer  than  me,  with  your 
experienge,  how  little  puts  us  out.  A  Punch's  show,'  she  says,  '  a 
chimbley  sweep,  a  newfunlandog,  or  a  drunkin  man,  a  comin  round  the 
comer  sharp,  may  do  it.'  So  it  may,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes,"  said  Mrs. 
Gamp,  "  there 's  no  deniging  of  it ;  and  though  my  books  is  clear  for  full 
a  week,  I  takes  a  anxious  art  along  with  me,  I  do  assure  you,  sir." 

"  You  're  so  full  of  zeal,  you  see ! "  said  Poll.    "You  worrit  yourself  so." 

'•'Worrit  myself  !"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  raising  her  hands  and  turning  up 
her  eyes.  "  You  speak  the  truth  in  that,  sir,  if  you  never  speaks  no 
more,  'twixt  this  and  when  two  Sundays  jines  together.  I  feels  the 
sufferins  of  other  people  more  than  I  feels  my  own,  though  no  one  mayn't 
suppoge  it.  The  families  I've  had,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "if  all  wos 
knowd,  and  credit  done  where  credit's  doo,  would  take  a  week  to 
chris'en  at  Saint  Polge's  fontin  !" 

"  Where  's  the  patient  going?"  asked  Sweedlepipe. 

"  Into  Harfordshire,  which  is  his  native  air.  But  native  airs  nor 
native  graces  neither,"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed,  "  won't  bring  /n'?u  round." 

"  So  bad  as  that  ?"  inquired  the  wistful  barber.     "  Indeed  !" 


348  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Mrs.  Gamp  shook  her  head  mysteriously,  and  pursed  up  her  lips. 
"  There 's  fevers  of  the  mind,"  she  said,  "  as  well  as  body.  You  may 
take  your  slime  drafts  till  you  flies  into  the  air  with  efferwescence  ;  but 
you  won't  cure  that." 

"Ah  !"  said  the  barber,  opening  his  eyes,  and  putting  on  his  raven 
aspect,  "  Lor  !" 

"  No.  You  may  make  yourself  as  light  as  any  gash  balloon,"  said 
Mrs.  Gamp.  "  But  talk,  when  you  're  wrong  in  your  head  and  when 
you  're  in  your  sleep,  of  certain  things  ;  and  you  '11  be  heavy  in  your 
mind." 

"  Of  what  kind  of  things  now  1"  inquired  Poll,  greedily  biting  his 
nails  in  his  great  interest.     "  Ghosts  ?" 

Mrs.  Gamp,  who  perhaps  had  been  already  tempted  further  than  she 
had  intended  to  go,  by  the  barber's  stimulating  curiosity,  gave  a  sniff  of 
uncommon  significance,  and  said,  it  didn't  matter. 

"  I'm  a  going  down  with  my  patient  in  the  coach  this  arternoon," 
she  proceeded.  "  I  'm  a  going  to  stop  with  him  a  day  or  so,  till  he  gets 
a  country  nuss  (drat  them  country  nusses,  much  the  orkard  hussies 
knows  about  their  bis'ness)  ;  and  then  I  'm  a  comin'  back  ;  and  that 's 
my  trouble,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes.  But  I  hope  that  everythink  '11  only  go 
on  right  and  comfortable  as  long  as  I  'm  away  ;  perwisin  which,  as 
Mrs.  Harris  says,  Mrs.  Gill  is  welcome  to  choose  her  own  time  :  all 
times  of  the  day  and  night  bein'  equally  the  same  to  me." 

During  the  progress  of  the  foregoing  remarks,  which  Mrs.  Gamp  had 
addressed  exclusively  to  the  Barber,  Mr.  Bailey  had  been  tying  his 
cravat,  getting  on  his  coat,  and  making  hideous  faces  at  himself  in  the 
glass.  Being  now  personally  addressed  by  Mrs.  Gamp,  he  turned 
round,  and  mingled  in  the  conversation. 

"  You  ain't  been  in  the  city,  I  suppose,  sir,  since  we  was  all  three 
there  together,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "at  Mr.  Ohuzzlewit's  1" 

"  Yes  I  have,  Sairah.     I  was  there,  last  night." 

"  Last  night ! "  cried  the  Barber. 

"  Yes,  Poll,  reether  so.  You  can  call  it  this  morning  if  you  like  to  be 
particular.     He  dined  with  us." 

"  Who  does  that  young  Limb  mean  by  '  hus  1 ' "  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
with  most  impatient  emphasis. 

"  Me  and  my  Governor,  Sairah.  He  dined  at  our  house.  We  vros 
very  merry,  Sairah.  So  much  so,  that  I  was  obliged  to  see  him  home 
in  a  hackney  coach  at  three  o'clock  in  the  morning."  It  was  on  the  tip 
of  the  boy's  tongue  to  relate  what  had  followed  ;  but  remembering  how 
easily  it  might  be  carried  to  his  master's  ears,  and  the  repeated  cautions 
he  had  had  from  Mr.  Crimple  "  not  to  chatter,"  he  checked  himself : 
adding  only,  "  She  was  sitting  up,  expecting  him," 

"  And  all  things  considered,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  sharply,  "  she  might 
have  know'd  better  than  to  go  a  tiring  herself  out,  by  doin'  anythink  of 
the  sort.     Did  they  seem  pretty  pleasant  together,  sir  1 " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  answered  Bailey,  "  pleasant  enough." 

"  I'm  glad  on  it,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  a  second  sniff  of  significance. 

"  They  haven't  been  married  so  long,"  observed  Poll,  rubbing  his 
hands,  "  that  they  need  be  anything  but  pleasant  yet  awhile." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  349 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  a  third  significant  signal. 

"  Especially,"  pursued  the  Barber,  "  when  the  gentleman  bears  such  a 
character  as  you  gave  him." 

"  I  speak  as  I  find,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  Forbid 
it  should  be  otherv/ays  !  But  we  never  knows  wot's  hidden  in  each 
others  hearts  ;  and  if  we  had  glass  winders  there,  we'd  need  to  keep  the 
shetters  up,  some  on  us,  I  do  assure  you  ! " 

"  But  you  don't  mean  to  say  " — Poll  Sweedlepipe  began. 

"  No, "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  cutting  him  very  short,  "  I  don't.  Don't 
think  I  do.  The  torters  of  the  Imposition  shouldn't  make  me  own  I 
did.  All  I  says  is,"  added  the  good  woman  rising  and  folding  her 
shawl  about  her,  "  that  the  Bull's  a  waitin,  and  the  precious  moments  is 
a  flyin'  fast."^^ 

The  little  barber  having  in  his  eager  curiosity  a  great  desire  to  see 
Mrs.  Gamp's  patient,  proposed  to  Mr.  Bailey  that  they  should  accompany 
her  to  the  Bull,  and  witness  the  departure  of  the  coach.  That  young 
gentleman  assenting,  they  all  went  out  together. 

Arri\dng  at  the  tavern,  Mrs.  Gamp  (who  was  full-dressed  for  the 
journey,  in  her  latest  suit  of  mourning)  left  her  friends  to  entertain  them- 
selves in  the  yard,  while  she  ascended  to  the  sick  room,  where  her  fellow- 
labourer  Mrs.  Prig  was  dressing  the  invalid. 

He  was  so  wasted,  that  it  seemed  as  if  his  bones  would  rattle  when 
they  moved  him.  His  cheeks  were  sunken,  and  his  eyes  unnaturally 
large.  He  lay  back  in  the  easy  chair  like  one  more  dead  than  living  ; 
and  rolled  his  languid  eyes  towards  the  door  when  Mrs.  Gamp  appeared, 
as  painfully  as  if  their  weight  alone  were  burdensome  to  move. 

"  And  how  are  we  by  this  time  ?"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed.  "  We  looks 
charming." 

"  We  looks  a  deal  charminger  than  we  are,  then,"  returned  Mrs.  Prig, 
a  little  chafed  in  her  temper.  "  We  got  out  of  bed  back'ards,  I  think, 
for  we're  as  cross  as  two  sticks.  I  never  see  sich  a  man.  He  wouldn't 
have  been  washed,  if  he'd  had  his  own  way." 

"  She  put  the  soap  in  my  mouth,"  said  the  unfortunate  patient, 
feebly. 

"  Couldn't  you  keep  it  shut  then  ?"  retorted  Mrs.  Prig.  "  Who  do 
you  think's  to  wash  one  feater,  and  miss  another,  and  wear  one's  eyes  out 
with  all  manner  of  fine-work  of  that  -description,  for  half-a-crown  a  day] 
If  you  wants  to  be  tittivated,  you  must  pay  accordin." 

"  Oh  dear  me  !  "  cried  the  patient,  "  oh  dear,  dear  !  " 

"  There  !  "  said  Mrs.  Prig,  "  that's  the  way  he  's  been  a  conducting 
of  himself,  Sarah,  ever  since  I  got  him  out  of  bed,  if  you  '11  believe  it." 

"  Instead  of  being  grateful,"  Mrs.  Gamp  observed,  "  for  all  our  little 
ways.     Oh,  fie  for  shame,  sir,  fie  for  shame  ! " 

Here  Mrs.  Prig  seized  the  patient  by  the  chin,  and  began  to  rasp 
his  unhappy  head  with  a  hair-brush. 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  like  that,  neither  !  "  she  observed,  stopping  to 
look  at  him. 

It  was  just  possible  that  he  didn't,  for  the  brush  was  a  specimen  of 
the  hardest  kind  of  instrument  producible  by  modern  art  ;  and  his  very 
eye-lids  were  red  with  the  friction.     Mrs.  Prig  was  e-ratified  to  observe 


350  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

the  correctness  of  her  supposition,  and  said  triumphantly,  "  she  know'd 
as-much." 

When  his  hair  was  smoothed  down  comfortably  into  his  eyes,  Mrs. 
Prig  and  Mrs.  Gamp  put  on  his  neckerchief :  adjusting  his  shirt-collar 
with  great  nicety,  so  that  the  starched  points  should  also  invade  those 
organs,  and  afflict  them  with  an  artificial  ophthalmia.  His  waistcoat 
and  coat  were  next  arranged  :  and  as  every  button  was  wrenched  into  a 
wrong  button-hole,  and  the  order  of  his  boots  was  reversed,  he  pre- 
sented on  the  whole  rather  a  melancholy  appearance. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  right,"  said  the  poor  weak  invalid.  "  I  feel  as  if 
I  was  in  somebody  else's  clothes.  I'm  all  on  one  side ;  and  you've 
made  one  of  my  legs  shorter  than  the  other.  There's  a  bottle  in  my 
pocket  too.     What  do  you  make  me  sit  upon  a  bottle  for  1 " 

"  Deuce  take  the  man  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  drawing  it  forth.  "  If 
he  ain't  been  and  got  my  night-bottle  here.  I  made  a  little  cupboard 
of  his  coat  when  it  hung  behind  the  door,  and  quite  forgot  it,  Betsey. 
You'll  find  a  ingun  or  two,  and  a  little  tea  and  sugar  in  his  t'other 
pocket,  my  dear,  if  you'll  jest  be  good  enough  to  take  'em  out." 

Betsey  produced  the  property  in  question,  together  with  some  other 
articles  of  general  chandlery ;  and  Mrs.  Gamp  transferred  them  to  her 
own  pocket,  which  was  a  species  of  nankeen  pannier.  Refreshment  then 
arrived  in  the  form  of  chops  and  strong  ale,  for  the  ladies,  and  a  basin 
of  beef-tea  for  the  patient  :  which  refection  was  barely  at  an  end  when 
John  Westlock  appeared. 

"  Up  and  dressed  ! "  cried  John,  sitting  down  beside  him.  "  That's 
brave.     How  do  you  feel  1 " 

"  Much  better.     But  very  weak." 

"  No  wonder.  You  have  had  a  hard  bout  of  it.  But  country  air, 
and  change  of  scene,"  said  John,  "  will  make  another  man  of  you !  Why, 
Mrs,  Gamp,"  he  added,  laughing,  as  he  kindly  arranged  the  sick  man's 
garments,  "you  have  odd  notions  of  a  gentleman's  dress  !" 

"  Mr.  Leewsome  an't  a  easy  gent  to  get  into  his  clothes,  sir,"  Mrs. 
Gamp  replied  with  dignity ;  "  as  me  and  Betsey  Prig  can  certify  afore 
the  Lord  Mayor  and  Uncommon  Counsellors,  if  needful  !  " 

John  was  at  that  moment  standing  close  in  front  of  the  sick  man,  in 
the  act  of  releasing  him  from  the  torture  of  the  collars  before  mentioned, 
when  he  said  in  a  whisper  : 

"  Mr.  Westlock  !  I  don't  wish  to  be  overheard.  I  have  something 
very  particular  and  strange  to  say  to  you ;  something  that  has  been  a 
dreadful  weight  on  my  mind,  through  this  long  illness." 

Quick  in  all  his  motions,  John  was  turning  round  to  desire  the 
women  to  leave  the  room  :  when  the  sick  man  held  him  by  the  sleeve. 

"  Not  now.     I've  not  the  strength.     I've  not  the  courage.     May  I  tell 
it  when  I  have  1     May  I  write  it,  if  I  find  that  easier  and  better  ?  " 
.-  "  May  you  !  "  cried  John.     "  Why,  Leewsome,  what  is  this  !  " 

"  Don't  ask  me  what  it  is.  It's  unnatural  and  cruel.  Frightful  to 
think  of.  Frightful  to  tell.  Frightful  to  know.  Frightful  to  have 
helped  in.  Let  me  kiss  your  hand  for  all  your  goodness  to  me.  Be 
kinder  still,  and  don't  ask  me  what  it  is  !  " 

At  first,  John  gazed  at  him,  in  great  surprise  ;  but  remembering  how 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  351 

very  much  reduced  lie  was,  and  how  recently  his  brain  had  been  on  fire 
with  fever,  believed  that  he  was  labouring  under  some  imaginary  horror, 
or  despondent  fancy.  For  farther  information  on  this  point,  he  took  an 
opportunity  of  drawing  Mrs.  Gamp  aside,  while  Betsey  Prig  was  wrapping 
him  in  cloaks  and  shawls,  and  asked  her  whether  he  was  quite  col- 
lected in  his  mind. 

"  Oh  bless  you,  no  !"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  He  hates  his  nusses  to  this 
hour.  They  always  does  it,  sir.  It 's  a  certain  sign.  If  you  could 
have  heerd  the  poor  dear  soul  a  findin'  fault  with  me  and  Betsey  Prig, 
not  half  an  hour  ago,  you  would  have  wondered  how  it  is  we  don't  get 
fretted  to  the  tomb." 

This  almost  confirmed  John  in  his  suspicion ;  so,  not  taking  what  had 
passed  into  any  serious  account,  he  resumed  his  former  cheerful  manner, 
and  assisted  by  Mrs.  Gamp  and  Betsey  Prig,  conducted  Leewsome  down- 
stairs to  the  coach  :  just  then  upon  the  point  of  starting. 

Poll  Sweedlepipe  was  at  the  door  with  his  arms  tight  folded  and  his 
•eyes  wide  open,  and  looked  on  with  absorbing  interest,  while  the  sick 
man  was  slowly  moved  into  the  vehicle.  His  bony  hands  and  haggard 
face  impressed  Poll  wonderfully  ;  and  he  informed  Mr.  Bailey,  in  confi- 
dence, that  he  wouldn't  have  missed  seeing  him  for  a  pound.  Mr.  Bailey, 
who  was  of  a  different  constitution,  remarked,  that  he  would  have  staid 
away  for  five  shillings. 

It  was  a  troublesome  matter  to  adjust  Mrs.  Gamp's  luggage  to  her 
satisfaction  ;  for  every  package  belonging  to  that  lady  had  the  in- 
convenient property  of  requiring  to  be  put  in  a  boot  by  itself,  and  to 
have  no  other  luggage  near  it,  on  pain  of  actions  at  law  for  heavy 
damages  against  the  proprietors  of  the  coach.  The  umbrella  with  the 
circular  patch  was  particularly  hard  to  be  got  rid  of,  and  several  times 
thrust  out  its  battered  brass  nozzle  from  improper  crevices  and  chinks, 
to  the  great  terror  of  the  other  passengers.  Indeed,  in  her  intense 
anxiety  to  find  a  haven  of  refuge  for  this  chattel,  Mrs.  Gamp  so  often 
moved  it,  in  the  course  of  five  minutes,  that  it  seemed  not  one  umbrella 
but  fifty.  At  length  it  was  lost,  or  said  to  be  ;  and  for  the  next  five 
minutes  she  was  face  to  face  with  the  coachman,  go  wherever  he  might, 
protesting  that  it  should  be  "  made  good,"  though  she  took  the  question 
to  the  House  of  Commons. 

At  last,  her  bundle,  and  her  pattens,  and  her  basket,  and  everything 
€lse,  being  disposed  of,  she  took  a  friendly  leave  of  Poll  and  Mr.  Bailey, 
dropped  a  curtsey  to  John  Westlock,  and  parted  as  from  a  cherished 
member  of  the  sisterhood  with  Betsey  Prig. 

"  Wishin'  you  lots  of  sickness,  my  darling  creetur,"  Mrs.  Gamp  ob- 
served, "  and  good  places.  It  won't  be  long,  I  hope,  afore  we  works 
together,  ofi"  and  on,  again,  Betsey  ;  and  may  our  next  meetin'  be  at  a 
large  family's,  where  they  all  takes  it  reg'lar,  one  from  another,  turn  and 
turn  about,  and  has  it  business-like." 

"  I  don't  care  how  soon  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Prig  ;  "  nor  how  many  weeks 
it  lasts." 

Mrs.  Gamp  with  a  reply  in  a  congenial  spirit  was  backing  to  the 
coach,  when  she  came  in  contact  with  a  lady  and  gentleman  who  were 
passing  along  the  footway. 


352  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Take  care,  take  care  here  ! "  cried  the  gentleman.  "  Halloo  !  My 
dear  !     Why,  it's  Mrs.  Gamp  !  " 

"What,  Mr.  Mould  !"  exclaimed  the  nurse.  "  And  Mrs.  Mould  !  who 
would  have  thought  as  we  should  ever  have  a  meetin'  here,  I'm  sure  !" 

"  Going  out  of  town,  Mrs.  Gamp  ? "  cried  Mould.  "  That's  unusual, 
isn't  it  ?" 

"  It  is  unusual,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  But  only  for  a  day  or  two  at 
most.     The  gent,"  she  whispered,  "  as  I  spoke  about." 

"  What,  in  the  coach  !  "  cried  Mould.  "  The  one  you  thought  of 
recommending  ?  Very  odd.  My  dear,  this  will  interest  you.  The  gen- 
tleman that  Mrs.  Gamp  thought  likely  to  suit  us,  is  in  the  coach,  my 
love." 

Mrs.  Mould  was  greatly  interested. 

"  Here,  my  dear.  You  can  stand  upon  the  door-step,"  said  Mould, 
"  and  take  a  look  at  him.  Ha  !  There  he  is.  Where's  my  glass  ? 
Oh  !  all  right,  I've  got  it.    Do  you  see  him,  my  dear  1 " 

"  Quite  plain,"  said  Mrs.  Mould. 

"  Upon  my  life  you  know,  this  is  a  very  singular  circumstance,"  said 
Mould,  quite  delighted.  "  This  is  the  sort  of  thing,  my  dear,  I  wouldn't 
have  missed  on  any  account.  It  tickles  one.  It's  interesting.  It's 
almost  a  little  play,  you  know.  Ah !  There  he  is  !  To  be  sure. 
Look's  poorly,  Mrs.  M.,  don't  he  ? " 

Mrs.  Mould  assented. 

"  He's  coming  our  way,  perhaps,  after  all,"  said  Mould.  "  'Who 
knows  !  I  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  show  him  some  little  attention,  really. 
He  don't  seem  a  stranger  to  me.  I'm  very  much  inclined  to  move  my 
hat,  my  dear." 

"He's  looking  hard  this  way,"  said  Mrs.  Mould. 

"  Then  I  will !  "  cried  Mould.  "  How  d'ye  do,  sir  %  I  wish  you  good 
day.  Ha  !  He  bows  too.  Very  gentlemanly.  Mrs.  Gamp  has  the 
cards  in  her  pocket,  I  have  no  doubt.  This  is  very  singular,  my  dear — 
and  very  pleasant.  I  am  not  superstitious,  but  it  really  seems  as  if  one 
was  destined  to  pay  him  those  little  melancholy  civilities  which  belong- 
to  our  peculiar  line  of  business.  There  can  be  no  kind  of  objection  to 
your  kissing  your  hand  to  him,  my  dear." 

Mrs.  Mould  did  so. 

"  Ha  ! "  said  Mould.  "  He 's  evidently  gratified.  Poor  fellow  !  I  'm 
quite  glad  you  did  it,  my  love.  Bye  bye,  Mrs.  Gamp  !"  waving  his 
hand.     "  There  he  goes  ;  there  he  goes  i" 

So  he  did  ;  for  the  coach  rolled  off  as  the  words  were  spoken.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Mould,  in  high  good  humour,  went  their  merry  way.  Mr.  Bailey 
retired  with  Poll  Sweedlepipe  as  soon  as  possible  ;  but  some  little  time 
elapsed  before  he  could  remove  his  friend  from  the  ground,  owing  to  the 
impression  wrought  upon  the  barber's  nerves  by  Mrs.  Prig,  whom  he 
pronounced,  in  admiration  of  her  beard,  to  be  a  woman  of  transcendent 
charms. 

When  the  light  cloud  of  bustle  hanging  round  the  coach  was  thus 
dispersed,  Nadgett  was  seen  in  the  darkest  box  of  the  Bull  coffee-room, 
looking  wistfully  up  at  the  clock — as  if  the  man  who  never  appeared, 
were  a  little  behind  his  time. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  353 


CHAPTEE,   XXX. 

PROVES  THAT  CHANGES  MAY  BE  RUNG  IN  THE  BEST-REGULATED  FAMILIES, 
AND  THAT  MR.  PECKSNIFF  WAS  A  SPECIAL  HAND  AT  A  TRIPLE-BOB- 
MAJOR. 

As  the  surgeon's  first  care  after  amputating  a  limb  is  to  take  up  the 
arteries  the  cruel  knife  has  severed,  so  it  is  the  duty  of  this  history, 
which  in  its  remorseless  course  has  cut  from  the  Pecksniffian  trunk  its 
right  arm,  Mercy,  to  look  to  the  parent  stem,  and  see  how  in  all  its 
various  ramifications  it  got  on  without  her. 

And  first  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  it  may  be  observed,  that  having  provided 
for  his  younger  daughter  that  choicest  of  blessings,  a  tender  and 
indulgent  husband ;  and  having  gratified  the  dearest  wish  of  his  parental 
heart  by  establishing  her  in  life  so  happily;  he  renewed  his  youth,  and 
spreading  the  plumage  of  his  own  bright  conscience,  felt  himself  equal 
to  all  kinds  of  flights.  It  is  customary  with  fathers  in  stage-plays, 
after  giving  their  daughters  to  the  men  of  their  hearts,  to  congratulate 
themselves  on  having  no  other  business  on  their  hands  but  to  die 
immediately  :  though  it  is  rarely  found  that  they  are  in  a  hurry  to  do 
it.  Mr.  Pecksnifi",  being  a  father  of  a  more  sage  and  practical  class, 
appeared  to  think  that  his  immediate  business  was  to  live;  and  having 
deprived  himself  of  one  comfort,  to  surround  himself  with  others. 

But  however  much  inclined  the  good  man  was,  to  be  jocose  and  play- 
ful, and  in  the  garden  of  his  fancy  to  disport  himself  (if  one  may  say  so), 
like  an  architectural  kitten,  he  had  one  impediment  constantly  opposed  to 
him.  The  gentle  Cherry,  stung  by  a  sense  of  slight  and  injury,  which 
far  from  softening  down  or  wearing  out,  rankled  and  festered  in  her 
heart — the  gentle  Cherry  was  in  fiat  rebellion.  She  waged  fierce  war 
against  her  dear  Papa  ;  she  led  her  parent  what  is  usually  called,  for 
want  of  a  better  figure  of  speech,  the  life  of  a  dog.  But  never  did  that 
dog  live,  in  kennel,  stable-yard,  or  house,  whose  life  was  half  as  hard 
as  Mr.  Pecksnifi''s  with  his  gentle  child. 

The  father  and  daughter  were  sitting  at  their  breakfast.  Tom  had 
retired,  and  they  were  alone.  Mr.  Pecksnifi"  frowned  at  first ;  but  hav- 
ing cleared  his  brow,  looked  stealthily  at  his  child.  Her  nose  was 
very  red  indeed,  and  screwed  up  tight,  with  hostile  preparation. 

"  Cherry,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff",  "  what  is  amiss  between  us  1  My 
child,  why  are  we  disunited?" 

Miss  Pecksniff"'s  answer  was  scarcely  a  response  to  this  gush  of  affec- 
tion, for  it  was  simply,  "Bother,  Pa!" 

"Bother!"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff",  in  a  tone  of  anguish. 

"  Oh  !  'tis  too  late.  Pa,"  said  his  daughter,  calmly,  "  to  talk  to  me 
like  that.     I  know  what  it  means,  and  what  its  value  is." 

"This  is  hard!"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff",  addressing  his  breakfr.st-cup. 
"  This   is   very  hard !     She  is  my  child.     I  carried  her   in  my  arms, 

A  A 


354 


LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 


when  she  wore  shapeless  worsted  shoes — I  might  say,  mufflers — many 
years  ago  !" 

"  You  need  n't  taunt  me  with  that,  Pa/'  retorted  Cherry,  with  a  spite- 
ful look.  "  I  am  not  so  many  years  older  than  my  sister,  either,  though 
she  is  married  to  your  friend  !" 

"Ah,  human  nature,  human  nature!  Poor  human  nature!"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his  head  at  human  nature  as  if  he  did  n't  belong 
to  it.  "  To  think  that  this  discord  should  arise  from  such  a  cause  !  oh 
dear,  oh  dear!" 

"  From  such  a  cause  indeed!"  cried  Cherry.  "  State  the  real  cause, 
Pa,  or  I  '11  state  it  myself     Mind  !  I  will !" 

Perhaps  the  energy  with  which  she  said  this  was  infectious.  However 
that  may  be,  Mr.  Pecksniff  changed  his  tone  and  the  expression  of  his 
face,  for  one  of  anger  if  not  downright  violence,  when  he  said  : 

"  You  will !  you  have.  You  did  yesterday.  You  do  always.  You 
have  no  decency ;  you  make  no  secret  of  your  temper  ;  you  have  exposed 
yourself  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  a  hundred  times." 

"  Myself ! "  cried  Cherry,  with  a  bitter  smile.  "  Oh  indeed  !  I  don't 
mind  that." 

"  Me  too,  then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

His  daughter  answered  with  a  scornful  laugh. 

"  And  since  we  have  come  to  an  explanation.  Charity,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, rolling  his  head  portentously,  "  let  me  tell  you  that  I  won't  allow 
it.     None  of  your  nonsense.  Miss !  I  won't  permit  it  to  be  done." 

"  I  shall  do,"  said  Charity,  rocking  her  chair  backwards  and  forwards, 
and  raising  her  voice  to  a  high  pitch,  "  I  shall  do.  Pa,  what  I  please 
and  what  I  have  done.  I  am  not  going  to  be  crushed  in  everything, 
depend  upon  it,  I  've  been  more  shamefully  used  than  anybody  ever 
was  in  this  world,"  here  she  began  to  cry  and  sob,  "  and  may  expect 
the  worst  treatment  from  you,  I  know.  But  I  don't  care  for  that.  No 
I  don't !" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  made  so  desperate  by  the  loud  tone  in  which  she 
spoke,  that,  after  looking  about  him  in  frantic  uncertainty  for  some 
means  of  softening  it,  he  rose  and  shook  her  until  the  ornamental  bow 
of  hair  upon  her  head  nodded  like  a  plume.  She  was  so  very  much 
astonished  by  this  assault,  that  it  really  had  the  desired  effect. 

"  I  '11  do  it  again  !"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  he  resumed  his  seat,  and 
fetched  his  breath,  "  if  you  dare  to  talk  in  that  loud  manner.  How 
do  you  mean  about  being  shamefully  used  1  If  Mr.  Jonas  chose  your 
sister  in  preference  to  you,  who  could  help  it,  I  should  wish  to  know  ? 
What  have  /  to  do  with  it  ?" 

"  Was  n't  I  made  a  convenience  of  1  Were  n't  my  feelings  trifled  with  ? 
Didn't  he  address  himself  to  me  first?"  sobbed  Cherry,  clasping  her 
hands ;  "  and  oh  good  gracious,  that  I  should  live  to  be  shook  ! " 

"  You  '11  live  to  be  shaken  again,"  returned  her  parent,  "  if  you  drive 
me  to  that  means  of  maintaining  the  decorum  of  this  humble  roof  You 
surprise  me.  I  wonder  you  have  not  more  spirit.  If  Mr.  Jonas  did  n't 
care  for  you,  how  could  you  wish  to  have  him  ?" 

"  /  wish  to  have  him  ! "  exclaimed  Cherry.     "  /  wish  to  have  him,  Pa  !" 


my  ^^'- '-' 
pitylitJ'  • 


5SV. 


±:. 


:    Mr 

htltillr,. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  355 

"  Then  wliat  are  you  niakiug  all  tliis  piece  of  work  for,"  retorted  her 
father,  "  if  you  did  n't  wish  to  have  him  ?" 

"  Because  I  was  treated  with  duplicity,"  said  Cherry  ;  "  and  because 
my  own  sister  and  my  own  father  conspired  against  me.  I  am  not 
angry  with  her,'"  said  Cherry,  looking  much  more  angry  than  ever.  "  I 
pity  her.  I  'm  sorry  for  her.  I  know  the  fate  that 's  in  store  for  her, 
with  that  Wretch." 

"  Mr.  Jonas  will  survive  your  calling  him  a  wretch,  my  child,  I  dare 
say,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  returning  resignation  :  "  hut  call  him  what 
you  like  and  make  an  end  of  it." 

"  Not  an  end  Pa,"  said  Charity.  "  No,  not  an  end.  That 's  not  the 
only  point  on  which  we're  not  agreed.  I  won't  submit  to  it.  It's 
better  you  should  know  that,  at  once.  No  ;  I  Avon't  submit  to  it 
indeed  Pa  !  I  am  not  quite  a  fool,  and  I  am  not  blind.  All  I  have 
got  to  say,  is,  I  won't  submit  to  it." 

Whatever  she  meant,  she  shook  Mr.  Pecksniff  now ;  for  his  lame 
attempt  to  seem  composed,  was  melancholy  in  the  last  degree.  His 
anger  changed  to  meekness,  and  his  words  were  mild  and  fawning. 

"  My  dear,"  he  said  ;  "  if  in  the  short  excitement  of  an  angry  moment 
I  resorted  to  any  unjustifiable  means  of  suppressing  a  little  outbreak  cal- 
culated to  injure  you  as  well  as  myself — it 's  possible  I  may  have  done 
so  ;  perhaps  I  did — I  ask  your  pardon.  A  father  asking  pardon  of  his 
child"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  "is,  I  believe,  a  spectacle  to  soften  the  most 
rugged  nature." 

But  it  did  n't  at  all  soften  Miss  Pecksniff :  perhaps  because  her  nature 
was  not  rugged  enough.  On  the  contrary  she  persisted  in  saying,  over 
and  over  again,  that  she  wasn't  quite  a  fool,  and  wasn't  blind,  and 
Avould  n't  submit  to  it. 

"You  labour  under  some  mistake,  my  child  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff: 
"  but  I  will  not  ask  you  what  it  is  ;  I  don't  desire  to  know.  No,  pray  !" 
he  added,  holding  out  his  hand  and  colouring  again,  "  let  us  avoid  the 
subject  my  dear,  whatever  it  is  !" 

"  It 's  quite  right  that  the  subject  should  be  avoided  between  us,  Sir,'* 
said  Cherry.  "  But  I  wish  to  be  able  to  avoid  it  altogether,  and  conse- 
quently must  beg  you  to  provide  me  with  a  home." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  about  the  room,  and  said  "  A  home,  my  child  !" 

"  Another  home.  Papa,"  said  Cherry  with  increasing  stateliness. 
"  Place  me  at  Mrs.  Todgers's  or  somewhere,  on  an  independent  footing  j 
but  I  will  not  live  here,  if  such  is  to  be  the  case." 

It  is  possible  that  Miss  Pecksniff  saw  in  Mrs.  Todgers's,  a  vision  of 
enthusiastic  men,  pining  to  fall,  in  adoration,  at  her  feet.  It  is  possible 
that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  his  new-born  juvenility,  saw  in  the  suggestion  of 
that  same  establishment,  an  easy  means  of  relieving  himself  from  an  irk- 
some charge  in  the  way  of  temper  and  watchfulness.  It  is  undoubtedly 
a  fact  that  in  the  attentive  ears  of  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  proposition  did  not 
sound  quite  like  the  dismal  knell  of  all  his  hopes. 

But  he  was  a  man  of  great  feeling,  and  acute  sensibility  ;  and  he 
squeezed  his  pocket-handkerchief  against  his  eyes  with  both  hands — as 
such  men  always  do  :  especially  when  they  are  observed       "  One  of  my 

A  A  2 


356  LIFE    AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

birds,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  said,  "  has  left  me  for  the  stranger's  breast ;  the 
other  would  take  wing  to  Todgers's  !  Well,  well,  what  am  11  I  don't 
know  what  I  am,  exactly.     Never  mind  !" 

Even  this  remark,  made  more  pathetic  perhaps  bj  his  breaking 
down  in  the  middle  of  it,  had  no  effect  upon  Charity.  She  was  grim, 
rigid,  and  inflexible. 

"  But  I  have  ever,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  sacrificed  my  children's  happi- 
ness to  my  own — I  mean  my  own  happiness  to  my  children's — and  I  will 
not  begin  to  regulate  my  life  by  other  rules  of  conduct  now.  If  you 
can  be  happier  at  Mrs.  Todgers's  than  in  your  father's  house,  my  dear, 
go  to  Mrs.  Todgers's  !  Do  not  think  of  me,  my  girl !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
M'ith  emotion  :  "  I  shall  get  on  pretty  well,  no  doubt." 

Miss  Charity,  who  knew  he  had  a  secret  pleasure  in  the  contemplation 
of  the  proposed  change,  suppressed  her  own,  and  went  on  to  negociate 
the  terms.  His  views  upon  this  subject  were  at  first  so  very  limited 
that  another  difference,  involving  possibly  another  shaking,  threatened 
to  ensue  ;  but  by  degrees  they  came  to  something  like  an  understanding, 
and  the  storm  blew  over.  Indeed  Miss  Charity's  idea  was  so  agreeable 
to  both,  that  it  would  have  been  strange  if  they  had  not  come  to  an 
amicable  agreement.  It  was  soon  arranged  between  them  that  the  project 
should  be  tried,  and  that  immediately  ;  and  that  Cherry's  not  being  well, 
and  needing  change  of  scene,  and  wishing  to  be  near  her  sister,  should 
form  the  excuse  for  her  departure,  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  and  Mary,  to  both 
of  whom  she  had  pleaded  indisposition  for  some  time  past.  These  pre- 
mises agreed  on,  Mr.  Pecksniff  gave  her  his  blessing,  with  all  the  dignity 
of  a  self-denying  man  who  had  made  a  hard  sacrifice,  but  comforted 
himself  with  the  reflection  that  virtue  is  its  own  reward.  Thus  they  were 
reconciled  for  the  first  time  since  that  not  easily  forgiven  night,  when 
Mr.  Jonas,  repudiating  the  elder,  had  confessed  his  passion  for  the 
younger  sister,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  abetted  him  on  moral  grounds. 

But  how  happened  it — in  the  name  of  an  unexpected  addition  to  that 
small  family,  the  Seven  Wonders  of  the  World,  whatever  and  wherever 
they  may  be,  how  happened  it — that  Mr.  Pecksniff  and  his  daughter 
were  about  to  part  1  How  happened  it  that  their  mutual  relations  were 
so  greatly  altered  ?  Why  was  Miss  Pecksniff  so  clamorous  to  have  it 
understood  that  she  was  neither  blind  nor  foolish,  and  she  wouldn't  bear 
it  1  It  is  not  possible  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  any  thoughts  of  marrying 
again  !  or  that  his  daughter,  with  the  sharp  eye  of  a  single  woman, 
fathomed  his  desio:n  ! 

Let  us  inquire  into  this. 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  as  a  man  without  reproach,  from  whom  the  breath  of 
slander  passed  like  common  breath  from  any  other  polished  surface, 
could  afford  to  do  what  common  men  could  not.  He  knew  the  purity 
of  his  own  motives ;  and  when  he  had  a  motive  worked  at  it  as  only  a 
very  good  man  (or  a  very  bad  one)  can.  Did  he  set  before  himself  any 
strong  and  palpable  motives  for  taking  a  second  wife  1  Yes  :  and  not 
one  or  two  of  them,  but  a  combination  of  very  many. 

Old  Martin  Chuzzlewit  had  gradually  undergone  an  important  change. 
Even  upon  the  night  when  he  made  such  an  ill-timed  arrival  at  Mr. 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  3o7 

Pecksniff's  house,  lie  was  comparatively  subdued  and  easy  to  deal  with. 
This  Mr.  Pecksniff  attributed,  at  the  time,  to  the  effect  his  brother  s 
death  had  had  upon  him.  But  from  that  hour  his  character  seemed  to 
have  modified  by  regular  degrees  and.  to  have  softened  down  into  a 
dull  indifference  for  almost  every  one  but  Mr.  Pecksniff.  His  looks 
were  much  the  same  as  ever,  but  his  mind  was  singularly  altered. 
It  was  not  that  this  or  that  passion  stood  out  in  brighter  or  in 
dimmer  hues ;  but  that  the  colour  of  the  whole  man  was  faded.  As 
one  trait  disappeared,  no  other  trait  sprung  up  to  take  its  place. 
His  senses  dwindled  too.  He  was  less  keen  of  sight  ;  was  deaf 
sometimes  ;  took  little  notice  of  what  passed  before  him  ;  and  would  be 
profoundly  taciturn  for  days  together.  The  process  of  this  alteration 
was  so  easy,  that  almost  as  soon  as  it  began  to  be  observed  it  was  com- 
plete. But  Mr.  Pecksniff  saw  it  first,  and  having  Anthony  Chuzzlewit 
fresh  in  his  recollection,  saw  in  his  brother  Martin  the  same  process  of 
decay. 

To  a  gentleman  of  Mr.  Pecksniff^s  tenderness,  this  was  a  very  mourn- 
ful sight.  He  could  not  but  foresee  the  probability  of  his  respected 
relative  being  made  the  victim  of  designing  persons,  and  of  his  riches 
falling  into  worthless  hands.  It  gave  him  so  much  pain  that  he  resolved 
to  secure  the  property  to  himself ;  to  keep  bad  testamentary  suitors  at  a 
distance ;  to  wall  up  the  old  gentleman,  as  it  were,  for  his  own  use.  By 
little  and  little,  therefore,  he  began  to  try  whether  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  gave 
any  promise  of  becoming  an  instrument  in  his  hands ;  and  finding 
that  he  did,  and  indeed  that  he  was  very  supple  in  his  plastic  fingers,  he 
made  it  the  business  of  his  life — kind  soul ! — to  establish  an  ascendancy 
over  him  :  and  every  little  test  he  durst  apply  meeting  with  a  success 
beyond  his  hopes,  he  began  to  think  he  heard  old  Martin's  cash  already 
chinking  in  his  own  unworldly  pockets. 

But  when  Mr.  Pecksniff  pondered  on  this  subject  (as,  in  his  zealous 
way  he  often  did),  and  thought  with  an  uplifted  heart  of  the  train  of 
circumstances  which  had  delivered  the  old  gentleman  into  his  hands  for 
the  confusion  of  evil-doers  and  the  triumph  of  a  righteous  nature,  he 
always  felt  that  Mary  Uraham  was  his  stumbling-block.  Let  the  old 
man  say  what  he  would,  Mr.  Pecksniff  knew  he  had  a  strong  affection 
for  her.  He  knew  that  he  showed  it  in  a  thousand  little  ways  ;  that  he 
liked  to  have  her  near  him,  and  was  never  quite  at  ease  when  she  was 
absent  long.  That  he  had  ever  really  sworn  to  leave  her  nothing  in 
his  will,  Mr.  Pecksniff  greatly  doubted.  That  even  if  he  had,  there  were 
many  ways  by  which  he  could  evade  the  oath  and  satisfy  his  conscience, 
Mr.  Pecksniff  knew.  That  her  unprotected  state  was  no  light  burden 
on  the  old  man's  mind,  he  also  knew,  for  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  had  plainly 
told  him  so.  "  Then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff',  "  what  if  I  married  her  ! 
"What,"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  sticking  up  his  hair  and  glancing  at  his 
bust  by  Spoker  :  "  What  if,  making  sure  of  his  approval  first — he  is 
nearly  imbecile,  poor  gentleman — I  married  her  !" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  a  lively  sense  of  the  Beautiful :  especially  in  women. 
His  manner  towards  the  sex,  was  remarkable  for  its  insinuating  cha- 
racter.    It  is  recorded  of  him  in  another  part  of  these  pages,  that  he 


358  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

embraced  Mrs.  Todgers  on  the  smallest  provocation  :  and  it  was  a  way  he 
had  :  it  was  a  part  of  the  gentle  placidity  of  his  disposition.  Before  any 
thought  of  matrimony  was  in  his  mind,  he  had  bestowed  on  Mary  many 
little  tokens  of  his  spiritual  admiration.  They  had  been  indignantly 
received,  but  that  was  nothing.  True,  as  the  idea  expanded  within  him, 
these  had  become  too  ardent  to  escape  the  piercing  eye  of  Cherry,  who 
read  his  scheme  at  once  ;  but  he  had  always  felt  the  power  of  Mary's 
charms.  So  Interest  and  Inclination  made  a  pair,  and  drew  the  curricle 
of  Mr.  PecksniiF's  plan. 

As  to  any  thought  of  revenging  himself  on  young  Martin  for  his  in- 
solent expressions  when  they  parted,  and  of  shutting  him  out  still  more 
effectually  from  any  hope  of  reconciliation  with  his  grandfather,  Mr. 
Pecksniff  was  much  too  meek  and  forgiving  to  be  suspected  of  harbouring 
it.  As  to  being  refused  by  Mary,  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  quite  satisfied  that 
in  her  position  she  could  never  hold  out  if  he  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  were 
both  against  her.  As  to  consulting  the  wishes  of  her  heart  in  such  a 
case,  it  formed  no  part  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  moral  code  ;  for  he  knew  what 
a  good  man  he  was,  and  what  a  blessing  he  must  be,  to  anybody.  His 
daughter  having  broken  the  ice,  and  the  murder  being  out  between 
them,  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  now  only  to  pursue  his  design  as  cleverly  as  he 
could,  and  by  the  craftiest  approaches. 

"  Well,  my  good  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  meeting  old  Martin  in  the 
garden,  for  it  was  his  habit  to  walk  in  and  out  by  that  way,  as  the 
fancy  took  him  :  "  and  how  is  my  dear  friend  this  delicious  morning  V^ 

"  Do  you  mean  me  ?"  asked  the  old  man. 

"  Ah  ! "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  one  of  his  deaf  days,  I  see.  Gould  I 
mean  any  one  else,  my  dear  Sir  1" 

"  You  might  have  meant  Mary,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Indeed  I  might.  Quite  true.  I  might  speak  of  her  as  a  dear, 
dear  friend,  I  hope?"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"I  hope  so,"  returned  old  Martin.     " I  think  she  deserves  it."  - 

"  Think  !  "  cried  Pecksniff.     "  Think,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit !" 

"  You  are  speaking  I  know,"  returned  Martin,  "  but  I  don't  catch 
what  you  say.     Speak  up  !" 

"  He  's  getting  deafer  than  a  flint,"  said  Pecksniff.  "  I  was  saying, 
my  dear  Sir,  that  I  am  afraid  I  must  make  up  my  mind  to  part  with 
Cherry." 

"  What  has  she  been  doing  ? "  asked  the  old  man. 

"He  puts  the  most  ridiculous  questions  I  ever  heard  !"  muttered  Mr. 
Pecksniff.  "  He  's  a  child  to-day."  After  which  he  added,  in  a  mild 
roar  ;  "  She  hasn  't  been  doing  anything,  my  dear  friend." 

"What  are  you  going  to  part  with  her  for  1"  demanded  Martin. 

"  She  hasn  't  her  health  by  any  means,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  She 
misses  her  sister,  my  dear  Sir;  they  doated  on  each  other  from  the  cradle. 
And  I  think  of  giving  her  a  run  in  London  for  a  change.  A  good  long 
run  Sir,  if  I  find  she  likes  it." 

"  Quite  right,"  cried  Martin.     "  It 's  judicious." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  I  hope  you  mean  to  bear  me  com- 
pany in  this  dull  part,  while  she's  away?"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  350 

"  I  have  no  intention  of  removing  from  it,"  was  Martin's  answer. 

'•  Then  why,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking  the  okl  man's  arm  in  his,  and 
walking  slowly  on:  "Why,  my  good  Sir,  can't  you  come  and  stay 
with  me  ?  I  am  sure  I  could  surround  you  with  more  comforts — lowly 
as  is  my  Cot,  than  you  can  obtain  at  a  village  house  of  entertainment. 
And  pardon  me,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  pardon  me  if  I  say  that  such  a  place 
as  the  Dragon,  however  well-conducted  (and,  as  far  as  I  know,  Mrs. 
Lupin  is  one  of  the  worthiest  creatures  in  this  county),  is  hardly  a  home 
for  Miss  Graham." 

Martin  mused  a  moment :  and  then  said,  as  he  shook  him  by  the 
hand, 

"  No.     You  're  quite  right ;  it  is  not." 

"  The  very  sight  of  skittles,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  eloquently  pursued,  "  is 
far  from  being  congenial  to  a  delicate  mind." 

"  It 's  an  amusement  of  the  vulgar,"  said  old  Martin,  "  certainly." 

"  Of  the  very  vulgar,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  answered.  "  Then  why  not 
bring  Miss  Graham  here.  Sir?  Here  is  the  house  !  Here  am  I  alone 
in  it,  for  Thomas  Pinch  I  do  not  count  as  any  one.  Our  lovely  friend 
shall  occupy  my  daughter's  chamber ;  you  shall  choose  your  own ;  we 
shall  not  quarrel,  I  hope  !" 

"  We  are  not  likely  to  do  that,"  said  Martin. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  pressed  his  hand.  "  We  understand  each  other,  my 
dear  Sir,  I  see  ! — I  can  wind  him,"  he  thought,  Avith  exultation,  '•  round 
my  little  finger  ! " 

"  You  leave  the  recompense  to  me  ?"  said  the  old  man,  after  a  minute's 
silence. 

"  Oh  !  Do  not  speak  of  recompense  ! "  cried  Pecksniff. 

"  I  say,"  repeated  Martin,  with  a  glimmer  of  his  old  obstinacy,  "  you 
leave  the  recompense  to  me.    Do  you  1" 

"  Since  you  desire  it,  my  good  Sir." 

"  I  always  desire  it,"  said  the  old  man.  "  You  know  I  always  desire 
it.  I  wish  to  pay  as  I  go,  even  when  I  buy  of  you.  Not  that  I  do  not 
leave  a  balance  to  be  settled  one  day,  Pecksniff." 

The  architect  was  too  much  overcome  to  speak.  He  tried  to  drop  a 
tear  upon  his  patron's  hand,  but  could  n't  find  one  in  his  dry 
distillery. 

"  May  that  day  be  very  distant  !"  was  his  pious  exclamation.  "  Ah 
Sir !  If  I  could  say  how  deep  an  interest  I  have  in  you  and  yours  ! 
I  allude  to  our  beautiful  young  friend." 

"  True,"  he  answered.  "  True.  She  need  have  some  one  interested 
in  her.  I  did  her  wrong  to  train  her  as  I  did.  Orphan  though  she 
was,  she  would  have  found  some  one  to  protect  her  whom  she  might  have 
loved  again.  When  she  was  a  child,  I  pleased  myself  with  the  thought 
that  in  gratifying  my  whim  of  placing  her  between  me  and  false- 
hearted knaves,  I  had  done  her  a  kindness.  Now  she  is  a  woman, 
I  have  no  such  comfort.  She  has  no  protector  but  herself.  I  have  put 
her  at  such  odds  with  the  world,  that  any  dog  may  bark  or  fawn  upon 
her  at  his  pleasure.  Indeed  she  stands  in  need  of  delicate  consideration. 
Yes  ;  indeed  she  does  !" 


360  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"If  her  position  could  be  altered  and  defined,  Sir?"  Mr.  Pecksniff 
liinted. 

"  How  can  that  be  done  1  Should  I  make  a  seamstress  of  her,  or  a 
governess  1 " 

"  Heaven  forbid  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "My  dear  Sir,  there  are  other 
ways.  There  are  indeed.  But  I  am  much  excited  and  embarrassed  at 
present,  and  would  rather  not  pursue  the  subject.  I  scarcely  know  what 
I  mean.     Permit  me  to  resume  it  at  another  time." 

"You  are  not  unwell  ?"  asked  Martin  anxiously. 

"  No,  no  !"  cried  Pecksniff.  "  No.  Permit  me  to  resume  it  at  another 
time.     I'll  walk  a  little.     Bless  you  !" 

Old  Martin  blessed  him  in  return,  and  squeezed  his  hand.  As  he  turned 
away,  and  slowly  walked  towards  the  house,  Mr.  Pecksniff  stood  gazing 
after  him  :  being  pretty  well  recovered  from  his  late  emotion,  which,  in 
any  other  man,  one  might  have  thought  had  been  assumed  as  a  machinery 
for  feeling  Martin's  pulse.  The  change  in  the  old  man  found  such  a 
slight  expression  in  his  figure,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff,  looking  after  him, 
could  not  help  saying  to  himself, 

"And  I  can  wind  him  round  my  little  finger  !     Only  think  !" 

Old  Martin  happening  to  iurn  his  head,  saluted  him  affectionately. 
Mr.  Pecksniff  returned  the  gesture. 

"  Why  the  time  was,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff ;  "  and  not  long  ago,  when 
he  would  n't  look  at  me  !  How  soothing  is  this  change.  Such  is  the 
delicate  texture  of  the  human  heart  :  so  complicated  is  the  process  of  its 
being  softened  !  Externally  he  looks  the  same,  and  I  can  wind  him 
round  my  little  finger.     Only  think  !" 

In  sober  truth,  there  did  appear  to  be  nothing  on  which  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff might  not  have  ventured  with  Martin  Chuzzlewit ;  for  whatever 
Mr.  Pecksniff  said  or  did  was  right,  and  whatever  he  advised  was  done. 
Martin  had  escaped  so  many  snares  from  needy  fortune-hunters,  and  had 
withered  in  the  shell  of  his  suspicion  and  distrust  for  so  many  years,  but 
to  become  the  good  man's  tool  and  plaything.  With  the  happiness  of 
this  conviction  painted  on  his  face,  the  architect  went  forth  upon  his 
morning  walk. 

The  summer  weather  in  his  bosom  was  reflected  in  the  breast  of 
Nature.  Through  deep  green  vistas  where  the  boughs  arched  over-head, 
and  showed  the  sunlight  flashing  in  the  beautiful  perspective  ;  through 
dewy  fern  from  which  the  startled  hares  leaped  up,  and  fled  at  his 
approach  ;  by  mantled  pools,  and  fallen  trees,  and  down  in  hollow  places, 
rustling  among  last  year's  leaves  whose  scent  was  Memory  ;  the  placid 
Pecksniff  strolled.  By  meadow  gates  and  hedges  fragrant  with  wild 
roses;  and  bythatched-roofed  cottages  whose  inmates  humbly  bowed  before 
him  as  a  man  both  good  and  wise;  the  worthy  Pecksniff  walked  in  tran- 
quil meditation.  The  bee  passed  onward,  humming  of  the  work  he  had 
to  do;  the  idle  gnats  for  ever  going  round  and  round  in  one  contracting 
and  expanding  ring,  yet  always  going  on  as  fast  as  he,  danced  merrily 
before  him  ;  the  colour  of  the  long  grass  came  and  went,  as  if  the  light 
clouds  made  it  timid  as  they  floated  through  the  distant  air.  The  birds, 
so  many  Pecksniff  consciences,  sang    gaily  upon    every  branch  ;    and 


MAKTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  3G1 

Mr.  Pecksniff  paid  his  homage  to  the  day  by  ruminating  on  his  projects 
as  he  walked  along. 

Chancing  to  trip,  in  his  abstraction,  over  the  spreading  root  of  an  old 
tree,  he  raised  his  pious  eyes  to  take  a  survey  of  the  ground  before  him. 
It  startled  him  to  see  the  embodied  imasfe  of  his  thouo-hts  not  far  a-head. 
Mary  herself.     And  alone. 

At  first  Mr.  Pecksniff  stopped,  as  if  with  the  intention  of  avoiding 
her  ;  but  his  next  impulse  was,  to  advance,  which  he  did  at  a  brisk  pace  ; 
carolling  as  he  went,  so  sweetly  and  with  so  much  innocence,  that  he 
only  wanted  feathers  and  wings  to  be  a  bird. 

Hearing  notes  behind  her,  not  belonging  to  the  songsters  of  the  grove, 
she  looked  round.  Mr.  Pecksniff  kissed  his  hand,  and  was  at  her  side 
immediately. 

"Communing  with  Nature?"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "So  am  I." 

She  said  the  morning  was  so  beautiful  that  she  had  walked  further 
than  she  intended  and  would  return.  Mr.  Pecksniff  said  it  was  exactly 
his  case,  and  he  would  return  with  her. 

"  Take  my  arm,  sweet  girl,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

Mary  declined  it,  and  walked  so  very  fast  that  he  remonstrated.  "  You 
were  loitering  when  I  came  upon  you,"  Mr.  Pecksniff  said.  "Why  be  so 
cruel  as  to  hurry  now  !  You  would  not  shun  me,  would  you  V 

"  Yes,  I  would,"  she  answered,  turning  her  glowing  cheek  indignantly 
upon  him,  "you  know  I  would.  Release  me,  Mr.  Pecksniff.  Your 
touch  is  disagreeable  to  me." 

His  touch  !  What,  that  chaste  patriarchal  touch  which  Mrs.  Todgers 
— surely  a  discreet  lady — had  endured,  not  only  without  complaint, 
but  with  apparent  satisfaction  !  This  was  positively  wrong.  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff was  sorry  to  hear  her  say  it. 

"  If  you  have  not  observed,"  said  Mary,  "  that  it  is  so,  pray  take  the 
assurance  from  my  lips,  and  do  not,  as  you  are  a  gentleman,  continue  to 
offend  me." 

"'Well,  well !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  mildly,  "I  feel  that  I  might  con- 
sider this  becoming  in  a  daughter  of  my  own,  and  why  should  I  object 
to  it  in  one  so  beautiful  !  It 's  harsh.  It  cuts  me  to  the  soul,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff :  "  but  I  cannot  quarrel  with  you,  Mary." 

She  tried  to  say  she  was  sorry  to  hear  it,  but  burst  into  tears.  Mr. 
Pecksniff  now  repeated  the  Todgers  performance  on  a  comfortable  scale, 
as  if  he  intended  it  to  last  some  time ;  and  in  his  disengaged  hand, 
catching  hers,  employed  himself  in  separating  the  fingers  with  his  own, 
and  sometimes  kissing  them,  as  he  pursued  the  conversation  thus  : 

"  I  am  glad  we  met.  I  am  very  glad  we  met.  I  am  able  now  to 
ease  my  bosom  of  a  heavy  load,  and  speak  to  you  in  confidence.  Mary," 
said  Mr,  Pecksniff,  in  his  tenderest  tones  :  indeed,  they  were  so  very 
tender  that  he  almost  squeaked  :    "  My  soul !  I  love  you  !" 

A  fantastic  thing,  that  maiden  affectation !  She  made-believe  to  shudder, 

"  I  love  you,"  said  Mr,  Pecksniff,  "  my  gentle  life,  with  a  devotion 
which  is  quite  surprising,  even  to  myself,  I  did  suppose  that  the  sen- 
sation was  buried  in  the  silent  tomb  of  a  lady,  only  second  to  you  in 
qualities  of  the  mind  and  form  ;  but  I  find  I  am  mistaken," 


362  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

She  tried  to  disengage  her  hand,  but  might  as  well  have  tried  to  free 
herself  from  the  embrace  of  an  affectionate  boa  constrictor  :  if  anything 
so  wily  may  be  brought  into  comparison  with  Pecksniff. 

"  Although  I  am  a  widower/'  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  examining  the  rings 
upon  her  fingers,  and  tracing  the  course  of  one  delicate  blue  vein  with  his 
fat  thumb,  "  a  widower  with  two  daughters,  still  I  am  not  encumbered, 
my  love.  One  of  them,  as  you  know,  is  married.  The  other,  by  her 
own  desire,  but  with  a  view,  I  will  confess — why  not  1 — to  my  altering 
my  condition,  is  about  to  leave  her  father's  house.  I  have  a  character,  I 
hope.  People  are  pleased  to  speak  well  of  me,  I  think.  My  person  and 
manner  are  not  absolutely  those  of  a  monster,  I  trust.  Ah,  naughty 
Hand  ! "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  apostrophising  the  reluctant  prize,  "  why 
did  you  take  me  prisoner  !     Go,  go  ! " 

He  slapped  the  hand  to  punish  it ;  but  relenting,  folded  it  in  his 
waistcoat,  to  comfort  it  again. 

"  Blessed  in  each  other,  and  in  the  society  of  our  venerable  friend, 
my  darling,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "we  shall  be  happy.  When  he  is 
wafted  to  a  haven  of  rest,  we  will  console  each  other.  My  pretty  prim- 
rose, what  do  you  say  ?" 

"  It  is  possible,"  Mary  answered,  in  a  hurried  manner,  "  that  I  ought 
to  feel  grateful  for  this  mark  of  your  confidence.  I  cannot  say  that  I 
do,  but  I  am  willing  to  suppose  you  may  deserve  my  thanks.  Take 
them  ;  and  pray  leave  me,  Mr.  Pecksniff." 

The  good  man  smiled  a  greasy  smile  :  and  drew  her  closer  to  him. 

"  Pray,  pray  release  me,  Mr.  Pecksniff.  I  cannot  listen  to  your  pro- 
posal. I  cannot  receive  it.  There  are  many  to  whom  it  may  be  accept- 
able, but  it  is  not  so  to  me.  As  an  act  of  kindness  and  an  act  of  pity, 
leave  me  !" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  walked  on  with  his  arm  round  her  waist,  and  her  hand 
in  his,  as  contentedly  as  if  they  had  been  all  in  all  to  each  other,  and 
were  joined  together  in  the  bonds  of  truest  love. 

"  If  you  force  me  by  your  superior  strength,"  said  Mary,-  who  finding 
that  good  words  had  not  the  least  effect  upon  him,  made  no  further  effort 
to  suppress  her  indignation  :  "  if  you  force  me  by  your  superior  strength 
to  accompany  you  back,  and  to  be  the  subject  of  your  insolence  upon  the 
way,  you  cannot  constrain  the  expression  of  my  thoughts.  I  hold  you 
in  the  deepest  abhorrence.     I  know  your  real  nature  and  despise  it." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  sweetly.     "  No,  no,  no  ! " 

"  By  what  arts  or  unhappy  chances  you  have  gained  your  influence 
over  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  do  not  know,"  said  Mary  :  "  it  may  be  strong 
enough  to  soften  even  this,  but  he  shall  know  of  this,  trust  me.  Sir." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  raised  his  heavy  eyelids  languidly,  and  let  them  fall 
again.     It  was  sajdng  with  perfect  coolness,  "Aye,  aye  !     Indeed  !" 

"  Is  it  not  enough,"  said  Mary,  "  that  you  warp  and  change  his 
nature,  adapt  his  every  prejudice  to  your  bad  ends,  and  harden  a  heart 
naturally  kind  by  shutting  out  the  truth  and  allowing  none  but  false 
and  distorted  views  to  reach  it ;  is  it  not  enough  that  you  have  the 
power  of  doing  this,  and  that  you  exercise  it,  but  must  you  also  be  so 
coarse,  so  cruel,  and  so  cowardly  to  me  1 " 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  3G3 

Still  Mr.  Pecksniff  led  lier  calmly  on,  and  looked  as  mild  as  any  lamb 
that  ever  pastured  in  the  fields. 

"  Will  nothing  move  you,  sir  ! "  cried  Mary. 

"  My  dear,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  -with  a  placid  leer,  "  a  habit  of 
self-examination,  and  the  practice  of — shall  I  say  of  virtue  'i " 

"  Of  hypocrisy,"  said  Mary. 

"  No,  no,"  resumed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  chafing  the  captive  hand  reproach- 
fully: "of  virtue — have  enabled  me  to  set  such  guards  upon  myself, 
that  it  is  really  diflicult  to  ruffle  me.  It  is  a  curious  fact,  but  it  is  diffi- 
cult, do  you  know,  for  any  one  to  ruffle  me.  And  did  she  think,"  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  playful  tightening  of  his  grasp,  "  that  s//e  could  ! 
How  little  did  she  know  his  heart !" 

Little  indeed  !  Her  mind  was  so  strangely  constituted  that  she  would 
have  preferred  the  caresses  of  a  toad,  an  adder,  or  a  serpent :  nay,  the 
hug  of  a  bear  :  to  the  endearments  of  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  that  good  gentleman,  "  a  word  or  two  will  set  this 
matter  right,  and  establish  a  pleasant  understanding  between  us.  I  am 
not  angry,  my  love." 

"  You  angry  !" 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  I  am  not.     I  say  so.     Neither  are  you." 

There  was  a  beating  heart  beneath  his  hand  that  told  another  story 
though. 

"  I  am  sure  you  are  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff :  "  and  I  will  tell  you 
why.  There  are  two  Martin  Chuzzlewits,  my  dear  ;  and  your  carrying 
your  anger  to  one  might  have  a  serious  effect,  who  knows,  upon  the 
other.     You  wouldn't  wish  to  hurt  him,  would  you  !" 

She  trembled  violently,  and  looked  at  him  with  such  a  proud  disdain 
that  he  turned  his  eyes  away.  No  doubt  lest  he  should  be  offended  with 
her  in  spite  of  his  better  self. 

"  A  passive  quarrel,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  may  be  changed 
into  an  active  one,  remember.  It  would  be  sad  to  blight  even  a  disin- 
herited young  man  in  his  already  blighted  prospects  :  but  how  easy  to 
do  it.  Ah,  how  easy  !  Have  I  influence  with  our  venerable  friend, 
do  you  think  1     Well,  perhaps  I  have.     Perhaps  I  have." 

He  raised  his  eyes  to  hers  ;  and  nodded  with  an  air  of  banter  that 
was  charming. 

"  No,"  he  continued,  thoughtfully.  "  Upon  the  whole,  my  sweet,  if 
I  were  you,  I  'd  keep  my  secret  to  myself  I  am  not  at  all  sure  :  very 
far  from  it :  that  it  would  surprise  our  friend  in  any  way,  for  he  and  I 
have  had  some  conversation  together  only  this  morning,  and  he  is 
anxious,  very  anxious,  to  establish  you  in  some  more  settled  manner. 
But  whether  he  was  surprised  or  not  surprised,  the  consequence  of  your 
imparting  it  might  be  the  same.  Martin,  junior,  might  suffer  severely. 
I  'd  have  compassion  on  Martin,  junior,  do  you  know  !"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, with  a  persuasive  smile.    "  Yes.    He  don't  deserve  it,  but  I  would." 

She  wept  so  bitterly  now,  and  was  so  much  distressed,  that  he  thought 
it  prudent  to  unclasp  her  waist,  and  hold  her  only  by  the  hand. 

"  As  to  our  own  share  in  the  precious  little  mystery,"  said  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, "  we  will  keep  it  to  ourselves,  and  talk  of  it  between  ourselves, 


364  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

and  you  shall  think  it  over.  You  will  consent,  my  love;  you  will  con- 
sent, I  know.  Whatever  you  may  think ;  you  will.  I  seem  to  remem- 
ber to  have  heard:  I  really  don't  know  where,  or  how:"  he  added, 
with  bewitching  frankness,  "  that  you  and  Martin  junior,  when  you 
were  children,  had  a  sort  of  childish  fondness  for  each  other.  When  we 
are  married,  you  shall  have  the  satisfaction  of  thinking  that  it  did  n't 
last,  to  ruin  him,  but  passed  away,  to  do  him  good  ;  for  we  '11  see  then, 
what  we  can  do  to  put  some  trifling  help  in  Martin  junior's  way. 
Have  I  any  influence  with  our  venerable  friend  ?  Well !  Perhaps  I 
have.     Perhaps  I  have." 

The  outlet  from  the  wood  in  which  these  tender  passages  occurred, 
was  close  to  Mr.  Pecksnifl"'s  house.  They  were  now  so  near  it  that  he 
stopped,  and  holding  up  her  little  finger,  said  in  playful  accents,  as  a 
parting  fancy : 

"  Shall  I  bite  it  ?" 

Pbeceiving  no  reply  he  kissed  it  instead  ;  and  then  stooping  down, 
inclined  his  flabby  face  to  hers — he  had  a  flabby  face,  although  he  v^as 
a  good  man — and  with  a  blessing,  which  from  such  a  source  was  quite 
enough  to  set  her  up  in  life,  and  prosper  her  for  that  time  forth,  per- 
mitted her  to  leave  him. 

Gallantry  in  its  true  sense  is  supposed  to  ennoble  and  dignify  a  man  ; 
and  love  has  shed  refinements  on  innumerable  Cymons.  But  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff :  perhaps  because  to  one  of  his  exalted  nature  these  were  mere 
grossnesses  :  certainly  did  not  appear  to  any  unusual  advantage,  nov/ 
that  he  was  left  alone.  On  the  contrary,  he  seemed  to  be  shrunk  and 
reduced ;  to  be  trying  to  hide  himself  within  himself ;  and  to  be  wretched 
at  not  having  the  power  to  do  it.  His  shoes  looked  too  large ;  his  sleeves 
looked  too  long;  his  hair  looked  too  limp;  his  hat  looked  too  little;  his 
features  looked  too  mean ;  his  exposed  throat  looked  as  if  a  halter  would 
have  done  it  good.  For  a  minute  or  two,  in  fact,  he  was  hot,  and  pale, 
and  mean,  and  shy,  and  slinking,  and  consequently  not  at  all  Peck- 
sniflian.  But  after  that,  he  recovered  himself,  and  went  home  with  as 
beneficent  an  air  as  if  he  had  been  the  High  Priest  of  the  summer 
weather. 

"  I  have  arranged  to  go,  Papa,"  said  Charity,  "  to-morrow." 

"  So  soon,  my  child!" 

"  I  can't  go  too  soon,"  said  Charity,  "  under  the  circumstances.  I 
have  written  to  Mrs.  Todgers  to  propose  an  arrangement,  and  have 
requested  her  to  meet  me  at  the  coach,  at  all  events.  You  '11  be  quite 
your  own  master  now,  Mr.  Pinch ! " 

Mr.  Pecksniff"  had  just  gone  out  of  the  room,  and  Tom  had  just  come 
into  it. 

"  My  own  master!"  repeated  Tom. 

"  Yes,  you'll  have  nobody  to  interfere  with  you,"  said  Charity.  "  At 
least  I  hope  you  won't.     Hem!  It's  a  changing  world." 

"What!  are — are  yoii  going  to  be  married.  Miss  Pecksniff*?"  asked 
Tom  in  great  surprise. 

"  Not  exactly,"  faltered  Cherry.  "  I  have  n't  made  up  my  mind  to 
be.     I  believe  I  could  be,  if  I  chose,  Mr.  Pinch." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  365 

"Of  course  you  could!"  said  Tom.  And  he  said  it  in  perfect  good 
faith.    He  believed  it  from  the  bottom  of  his  heart. 

"  No,"  said  Cherry.  "  /am  not  going  to  be  married.  Nobody  is,  that 
I  know  of.  Hem !  But  I  am  not  going  to  live  with  Papa.  I  have 
my  reasons,  but  it's  all  a  secret.  I  shall  always  feel  very  kindly 
towards  you,  I  assure  you,  for  the  boldness  you  showed  that  night. 
As  to  you  and  me,  Mr.  Pinch,  ice.  part  the  best  friends,  possible  !" 

Tom  thanked  her  for  her  confidence,  and  for  her  friendship,  but  there 
was  a  mystery  in  the  former,  which  perfectly  bewildered  him.  In  his 
extravagant  devotion  to  the  family,  he  had  felt  the  loss  of  Merry  more 
than  any  one  but  those  who  knew  that  for  all  the  slights  he  underwent  he 
thought  his  own  demerits  were  to  blame,  could  possibly  have  understood. 
He  had  scarcely  reconciled  himself  to  that,  when  here  was  Charity  about 
to  leave  them.  She  had  grown  up,  as  it  were  under  Tom's  eye.  The 
sisters  were  a  part  of  Pecksniff,  and  a  part  of  Tom  ;  items  in  Pecksniff's 
goodness,  and  in  Tom's  service.  He  could  n't  bear  it :  not  two  hours' 
sleep  had  Tom  that  night,  through  dwelling  in  his  bed  upon  these  dreadful 
changes. 

When  morning  dawned,  he  thought  he  must  have  dreamed  this  piece 
of  ambiguity ;  but  no,  on  going  down  stairs  he  found  them  packing 
trunks  and  cording  boxes,  and  making  other  preparations  for  Miss 
Charity's  departure,  which  lasted  all  day  long.  In  good  time  for  the 
evening-coach.  Miss  Charity  deposited  her  housekeeping  keys  with  much 
ceremony  upon  the  parlour  table  ;  took  a  gracious  leave  of  all  the  house  ; 
and  quitted  her  paternal  roof — a  blessing,  for  which  the  Pecksniffian 
servant  was  observed  by  some  profane  persons  to  be  particularly  active 
in  the  thanksgiving  at  church  next  Sunday. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

MR.  PINCH  IS  DISCHARGED  OF  A  DUTY  WHICH  HE  NEVER  OWED  TO  ANT- 
BODY  ;  AND  MR.  PECKSNIFF  DISCHARGES  A  DUTY  WHICH  HE  OWES  TO 
SOCIETY. 

The  closing  words  of  the  last  chapter,  lead  naturally  to  the  com- 
mencement of  this,  its  successor;  for  it  has  to  do  with  a  church.  With 
the  church  so  often  mentioned  heretofore,  in  which  Tom  Pinch  played 
the  organ  for  nothing. 

One  sultry  afternoon,  about  a  week  after  Miss  Charity's  departure  for 
London,  Mr.  Pecksniff  being  out  walking  by  himself,  took  it  into  his 
head  to  stray  into  the  churchyard.  As  he  was  lingering  among  the 
tombstones,  endeavouring  to  extract  an  available  sentiment  or  two 
from  the  epitaphs — for  he  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  making  up  a 
few  moral  crackers,  to  be  let  off  as  occasion  served — Tom  Pinch  began  to 
practise.  Tom  could  run  down  to  the  church  and  do  so  whenever  he 
had  time  to  spare  ;  for  it  was  a  simple  little  organ,  provided  with  wind 
by  the  action  of  the  musician's  feet ;  and  he  was  independent,  even  of  a 


366  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

bellows-blower.  Though  if  Tom  had  wanted  one  at  any  time,  there  was 
not  a  man  or  boy  in  all  the  village,  and  away  to  the  turnpike  (tollman 
included),  but  would  have  blown  away  for  him  till  he  was  black  in  the 
face. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  no  objection  to  music  ;  not  the  least.  He  was 
tolerant  of  everything — he  often  said  so.  He  considered  it  a  vagabond 
kind  of  trifling,  in  general,  just  suited  to  Tom's  capacity.  But  in  regard 
to  Tom's  performance  upon  this  same  organ,  he  was  remarkably  lenient, 
singularly  amiable ;  for  when  Tom  played  it  on  Sundays,  Mr.  Pecksniff 
in  his  unbounded  sympathy  felt  as  if  he  played  it  himself,  and  were  a 
benefactor  to  the  congregation.  So  whenever  it  was  impossible  to  devise 
any  other  means  of  taking  the  value  of  Tom's  wages  out  of  him,  Mr. 
Pecksniff  gave  him  leave  to  cultivate  this  instrument.  For  which  mark 
of  his  consideration,  Tom  was  very  grateful. 

The  afternoon  was  remarkably  warm,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  been 
strolling  a  long  way.  He  had  not  what  may  be  called  a  fine  ear  for 
music,  but  he  knew  when  it  had  a  tranquillising  influence  on  his  soul  ; 
and  that  was  the  case  now,  for  it  sounded  to  him  like  a  melodious  snore. 
He  approached  the  church,  and  looking  through  the  diamond  lattice  of 
a  window  near  the  porch,  saw  Tom,  with  the  curtains  in  the  loft  drawn 
back,  playing  away  with  great  expression  and  tenderness. 

The  church  had  an  inviting  air  of  coolness.  The  old  oak  roof  sup- 
ported by  cross-beams,  the  hoary  walls,  the  marble  tablets,  and  the 
cracked  stone  pavement,  were  refreshing  to  look  at.  There  were  leaves 
of  ivy  tapping  gently  at  the  opposite  windows;  and  the  sun  poured 
in  through  only  one  :  leaving  the  body  of  the  church  in  tempting  shade. 
But  the  most  tempting  spot  of  all,  was  one  red-curtained  and  soft- 
cushioned  pew,  wherein  the  official  dignitaries  of  the  place  (of  whom 
Mr.  Pecksniff  was  the  head  and  chief)  enshrined  themselves  on  Sundays. 
Mr.  Pecksniffs  seat  was  in  the  corner:  a  remarkably  comfortable  corner : 
where  his  very  large  Prayer-Book  was  at  that  minute  making  the  most 
of  its  quarto  self  upon  the  desk.     He  determined  to  go  in  and  rest. 

He  entered  very  softly ;  in  part  because  it  was  a  church ;  in  part 
because  his  tread  was  always  soft;  in  part  because  Tom  played  a  solemn 
tune;  in  part  because  he  thought  he  would  surprise  him  when  he  stopped. 
Unbolting  the  door  of  the  high  pew  of  state,  he  glided  in  and  shut  it 
after  him;  then  sitting  in  his  usual  place,  and  stretching  out  his  legs 
upon  the  hassocks,  he  composed  himself  to  listen  to  the  music. 

It  is  an  unaccountable  circumstance  that  he  should  have  felt  drowsy 
there,  where  the  force  of  association  might  surely  have  been  enough  to 
keep  him  wide  awake ;  but  he  did.  He  had  not  been  in  the  snug  little 
corner  five  minutes  before  he  began  to  nod.  He  had  not  recovered  him- 
self one  minute  before  he  began  to  nod  again.  In  the  very  act  of  open- 
ing his  eyes  indolently,  he  nodded  again.  In  the  very  act  of  shutting 
them,  he  nodded  again.  So  he  fell  out  of  one  nod  into  another  until  at 
last  he  ceased  to  nod  at  all,  and  was  as  fast  as  the  church  itself 

He  had  a  consciousness  of  the  organ,  long  after  he  fell  asleep,  though 
as  to  its  being  an  organ  he  had  no  more  idea  of  that,  than  he  had  of  its 
being  a  Bull.     After  a  while  he  began  to  have  at  intervals  the  same 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  JO/ 

dreamy  impression  of  voices  ;  and  awakening  to  an  indolent  curiosity 
upon  the  subject,  opened  his  eyes. 

He  was  so  indolent,  that  after  glancing  at  the  hassocks  and  the  pew, 
he  was  already  half-way  off  to  sleep  again,  when  it  occurred  to  him  that 
there  really  were  voices  in  the  church  :  low  voices,  talking  earnestly 
hard  by:  while  the  echoes  seemed  to  mutter  responses.  He  roused 
himself,  and  listened. 

Before  he  had  listened  half  a  dozen  seconds,  he  became  as  broad  awake 
as  ever  he  had  been  in  all  his  life.  With  eyes,  and  ears,  and  mouth, 
wide  open,  he  moved  himself  a  very  little  with  the  utmost  caution,  and 
gathering  the  curtain  in  his  hand,  peeped  out. 

Tom  Pinch  and  Mary.  Of  course.  He  had  recognised  their  voices,  and 
already  knew  the  topic  they  discussed.  Looking  like  the  small  end  of  a 
guillotined  man,  with  his  chin  on  a  level  with  the  top  of  the  pew,  so 
that  he  might  duck  down  immediately  in  case  of  either  of  them  turning 
round,  he  listened.  Listened  with  such  concentrated  eagerness,  that  his 
very  hair  and  shirt-collar  stood  bristling  up  to  help  him. 

"  No,"  cried  Tom.  "  No  letters  have  ever  reached  me,  except  that 
one  from  New  York.  But  don't  be  uneasy  on  that  account,  for  it's  very 
likely  they  have  gone  away  to  some  far-off  place,  where  the  posts  are 
neither  regular  nor  frequent.  He  said  in  that  very  letter  that  it  might 
be  so,  even  in  that  city  to  which  they  thought  of  travelling — Eden,  you 
know." 

"  It  is  a  great  weight  upon  my  mind,"  said  Mary. 

"  Oh,  but  you  must  n't  let  it  be,"  said  Tom.  "  There's  a  true  saying 
that  nothing  travels  so  fast  as  ill  news  ;  and  if  the  slightest  harm  had 
happened  to  Martin,  you  may  be  sure  you  would  have  heard  of  it  long 
ago.  I  have  often  wished  to  say  this  to  you,"  Tom  continued  with  an 
embarrassment  that  became  him  very  well,  "  but  you  have  never  given 
me  an  opportunity." 

"  I  have  sometimes  been  almost  afraid,"  said  Mary,  "  that  you  might 
suppose  I  hesitated  to  confide  in  you,  Mr.  Pinch." 

"  No,"  Tom  stammered,  "  I — I  am  not  aware  that  I  ever  supposed 
that.  I  am  sure  that  if  I  have,  I  have  checked  the  thought  directly,  as 
an  injustice  to  you.  I  feel  the  delicacy  of  your  situation  in  having  to 
confide  in  me  at  all,"  said  Tom,  "  but  I  would  risk  my  life  to  save  you 
from  one  day's  uneasiness  :  indeed  I  would  !" 

Poor  Tom  ! 

"  I  have  dreaded  sometimes,"  Tom  continued,  "  that  I  might  have 
displeased  you  by — by  having  the  boldness  to  try  and  anticipate  }'our 
wishes  now  and  then.  At  other  times  I  have  fancied  that  your  kindness 
prompted  you  to  keep  aloof  from  me." 

"Indeed!" 

"  It  was  very  foolish  :  very  presumptuous  and  ridiculous  :  to  think 
so,"  Tom  pursued  :  "  but  I  feared  you  might  suppose  it  possible  that  I 
— I — should  admire  you  too  much  for  my  own  peace  ;  and  so  denied 
yourself  the  slight  assistance  you  would  otherwise  have  accepted  from 
me.  If  such  an  idea  has  ever  presented  itself  to  you,"  faltered  Tom, 
"  pray  dismiss  it.     I  am  easily  made  happy  :  and  I  shall  live  contented 


368  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

here  long  after  you  and  Martin  have  forgotten  me.  I  am  a  poor,  shy, 
awkward,  creature  :  not  at  all  a  man  of  the  world :  and  you  should 
think  no  more  of  me,  bless  you,  than  if  I  were  an  old  friar  !" 

If  friars  bear  such  hearts  as  thine,  Tom,  let  friars  multiply  ;  though 
they  have  no  such  rule  in  all  their  stern  arithmetic. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  said  Mary,  giving  him  her  hand  ;  "  I  cannot  tell 
you  how  your  kindness  moves  me.  I  have  never  wronged  you  by  the 
lightest  doubt,  and  have  never  for  an  instant  ceased  to  feel  that  you 
were  all ;  much  more  than  all  ;  that  Martin  found  you.  Without  the 
silent  care  and  friendship  I  have  experienced  from  you,  my  life  here 
would  have  been  unhappy.  But  you  have  been  a  good  angel  to  me  ; 
filling  me  with  gratitude  of  heart,  hope,  and  courage." 

"  I  am  as  little  like  an  angel,  I  am  afraid,"  replied  Tom,  shaking  his 
head,  "as  any  stone  cherubim  among  the  gravestones  ;  and  I  don't 
think  there  are  many  real  angels  of  t/iat  pattern.  But  I  should  like  to 
know  (if  you  will  tell  me)  why  you  have  been  so  very  silent  about  Martin." 

"  Because  I  have  been  afraid,"  said  Mary.  "  of  injuring  you." 

"Of  injuring  me  !"  cried  Tom. 

"  Of  doing  you  an  injury  with  your  employer. 

The  gentleman  in  question  dived. 

"With  Pecksniif!"  rejoined  Tom,  with  cheerful  confidence.  "Oh 
dear,  he  'd  never  think  of  us  !  He  's  the  best  ot  men.  The  more  at 
ease  you  were,  the  happier  he  woiald  be.  Oh  dear,  you  need  n't  be  afraid 
of  Pecksniff.     He  is  not  a  spy." 

Many  a  man  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's  place,  if  he  could  have  dived  through 
the  floor  of  the  pew  of  state  and  come  out  at  Calcutta  or  any  inhabited 
region  on  the  other  side  of  the  earth,  would  have  done  it  instantly. 
Mr.  Pecksniff  sat  down  upon  a  hassock,  and  listening  more  attentively 
than  ever,  smiled. 

Mary  seemed  to  have  expressed  some  dissent  in  the  meanwhile,  for 
Tom  went  on  to  say,  wdth  honest  energy  : 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  it  always  happens,  whenever  I 
express  myself  in  this  way,  to  anybody  almost,  that  I  find  they  won't  do 
justice  to  Pecksniff.  It  is  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  circumstances 
that  ever  came  within  my  knowledge,  but  it  is  so.  There's  John  West- 
lock,  who  used  to  be  a  pupil  here,  one  of  the  best-hearted  young  men  in 
the  world,  in  all  other  matters — I  really  believe  John  would  have  Peck- 
sniff flogged  at  the  cart's  tail  if  he  could.  And  John  is  not  a  solitary 
case,  for  every  pupil  we  have  had  in  my  time  has  gone  away  w^ith  the 
same  inveterate  hatred  of  him.  There  was  Mark  Tapley,  too,  quite  in 
another  station  of  life,"  said  Tom  :  "  the  mockery  he  used  to  make  of 
Pecksniff  when  he  was  at  the  Dragon  was  shocking.  Martin  too  : 
Martin  was  worse  than  any  of  'em.  But  I  forgot.  He  prepared  you  to 
dislike  Pecksniff,  of  course.  So  you  came  with  a  prejudice,  you  know, 
Miss  Graham,  and  are  not  a  fair  witness." 

Tom  triumphed  very  much  in  this  discovery,  and  rubbed  his  hands 
with  great  satisfaction. 

"Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Mary,  "you  mistake  him." 

"  No,  no  !"  cried  Tom.    "  You  mistake  him.     But,"  he  added,  with  a 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWlT.  369 

rapid  change  in  his  tone,  "  what  is  the  matter  ?     Miss  Graham,  what  is 
the  matter  !" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  brought  up  to  the  top  of  the  pew,  by  slow  degrees,  his 
hair,  his  forehead,  his  eyebrow,  his  eye.  She  was  sitting  on  a  bench 
beside  the  door  with  her  hands  before  her  face  ;  and  Tom  w^as  bending 
over  her. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ! "  cried  Tom.  "  Have  I  said  anything  to  hurt 
you  1  Has  any  one  said  anything  to  hurt  you  ?  Don't  cry.  Pray  tell 
me  what  it  is.  I  cannot  bear  to  see  you  so  distressed.  Mercy  on  us,  I 
never  was  so  surprised  and  grieved  in  all  my  life  !" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  kept  his  eye  in  the  same  place.  He  could  have  moved 
it  now  for  nothing  short  of  a  gimlet  or  a  red-hot  wire. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  told  you,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Mary,  "  if  I  could  have 
helped  it ;  but  your  delusion  is  so  absorbing,  and  it  is  so  necessary  that 
we  should  be  upon  our  guard ;  that  you  should  not  be  compromised ;  and 
to  that  end  that  you  should  know  by  whom  I  am  beset ;  that  no  alterna- 
tive is  left  me.  I  came  here  purposely  to  tell  you,  but  I  think  I  should 
have  wanted  courage  if  you  had  not  chanced  to  lead  me  so  directly  to  the 
object  of  my  coming." 

Tom  gazed  at  her  stedfastly,  and  seemed  to  say,  "  What  else  1 "  But 
he  said  not  a  word. 

"  That  person  whom  you  think  the  best  of  men,"  said  Mary,  looking 
up,  and  speaking  with  a  quivering  lip  and  flashing  eye  : 

'^  Lord  bless  me  !  muttered  Tom,  staggering  back.  "  Wait  a  moment. 
That  person  wdiom  I  think  the  best  of  men  !  You  mean  Pecksniff,  of 
course.  Yes,  I  see  you  mean  Pecksniff.  Good  gracious  me,  don't  speak 
without  authority.  What  has  he  done  ?  If  he  is  not  the  best  of  men, 
what  is  he  V 

"  The  worst.  The  falsest,  craftiest,  meanest,  cruelest,  most  sordid, 
most  shameless,"  said  the  trembling  girl — trembling  with  her  indig- 
nation. 

Tom  sat  down  on  a  seat,  and  clasped  his  hands. 

"  What  is  he,"  said  Mary,  "  who  receiving  me  in  his  house  as  his  guest : 
his  unwilling  guest  :  knowing  my  history,  and  how  defenceless  and 
alone  I  am,  presumes  before  his  daughters  to  affront  me  so  that  if  I  had 
a  brother  but  a  child,  who  saw  it,  he  would  instinctively  have  helped 
me  r 

"  He  is  a  scoundrel !"  exclaimed  Tom.  "  Whoever  he  may  be,  he  is  a 
scoundrel." 

Mr.  Pecksniff  dived  again. 

"  What  is  he,"  said  Mary,  "  who,  when  my  only  friend  :  a  dear  and 
kind  one  too  :  was  in  full  health  of  mind,  humbled  himself  before  him, 
but  was  spurned  away  (for  he  knew  him  then)  like  a  dog.  W  ho,  in  his 
forgiving  spirit,  now  that  that  friend  is  sunk  into  a  failing  state,  can  crawl 
about  him  again,  and  use  the  influence  he  basely  gains,  for  every  base  and 
wicked  purpose,  and  not  for  one — not  one — that 's  true  or  good  V 

"  I  say  he  is  a  scoundrel,"  answered  Tom. 

"  But  what  is  he  :  oh  Mr.  Pinch,  what  is  he  :  who,  thinking  he  could 
compass  these  designs  the  better  were  I  his  wife,  assails  me  with  the 

B  B 


370  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

coward's  argument  tliat  if  I  marry  him,  Martin,  on  whom  I  have  brought 
so  much  misfortune,  shall  be  restored  to  something  of  his  former  hopes  ; 
and  if  I  do  not,  shall  be  plunged  in  deeper  ruin  ?  What  is  he  who  makes 
my  very  constancy  to  one  I  love  with  all  my  heart  a  torture  to  myself 
and  wrong  to  him  ;  who  makes  me,  do  what  I  will,  the  instrument  to 
hurt  a  head  I  would  heap  blessings  on  !  What  is  he  who,  winding  all 
these  cruel  snares  about  me,  explains  their  purpose  to  me,  with  a  smooth 
tongue  and  a  smiling  face,  in  the  broad  light  of  day  :  dragging  me  on 
the  while  in  his  embrace,  and  holding  to  his  lips  a  hand,"  pursued  the 
agitated  girl,  extending  it,  "  which  I  would  have  struck  off,  if  with  it 
I  could  lose  the  shame  and  degradation  of  his  touch  1"' 

"  I  say, "  cried  Tom,  in  great  excitement,  "  he  is  a  scoundrel  and  a 
villain.  I  don't  care  who  he  is,  I  say  he  is  a  double-dyed  and  most 
intolerable  villain  !" 

Covering  her  face  with  her  hands  again,  as  if  the  passion  which  had 
sustained  her  through  these  disclosures  lost  itself  in  an  overwhelming 
sense  of  shame  and  grief,  she  abandoned  herself  to  tears. 

Any  sight  of  distress  was  sure  to  move  the  tenderness  of  Tom,  but 
this  especially.  Tears  and  sobs  from  her,  were  arrows  in  his  heart.  He 
tried  to  comfort  her ;  sat  down  beside  her  ;  expended  all  his  store  of 
homely  eloquence ;  and  spoke  in  words  of  praise  and  hope  of  Martin. 
Ay,  though  he  loved  her  from  his  soul  with  such  a  self-denying  love  as 
woman  seldom  wins  :  he  spoke  from  first  to  last  of  Martin.  Not  the 
wealth  of  the  rich  Indies  would  have  tempted  Tom  to  shirk  one  mention 
of  her  lover's  name. 

-  When  she  was  more  composed,  she  impressed  upon  Tom  that  this 
man  she  had  described,  was  Pecksniff  in  his  real  colours ;  and  word  by 
word  and  phrase  by  phrase,  as  well  as  she  remembered  it,  related  what 
had  passed  between  them  in  the  wood  :  which  was  no  doubt  a  source  of 
high  gratification  to  that  gentleman  himself,  who  in  his  desire  to  see 
and  his  dread  of  being  seen,  was  constantly  diving  down  into  the 
state  pew,  and  coming  up  again  like  the  intelligent  householder  in 
Punch's  Show,  who  avoids  being  knocked  on  the  head  with  a  cudgel. 
When  she  had  concluded  her  account,  and  had  besought  Tom  to  be  ver}^ 
distant  and  unconscious  in  his  manner  towards  her  after  this  expla- 
nation, and  had  thanked  him  very  much,  they  parted  on  the  alarm  of 
footsteps  in  the  burial-ground  ;  and  Tom  was  left  alone  in  the  church 
again. 

And  now  the  full  agitation  and  misery  of  the  disclosure,  came  rushing 
upon  Tom  indeed.  The  star  of  his  whole  life  from  boyhood,  had 
become,  in  a  moment,  putrid  vapour.  It  was  not  that  Pecksniff :  Tom's 
Pecksniff:  had  ceased  to  exist,  but  that  he  never  had  existed.  In  his 
death,  Tom  would  have  had  the  comfort  of  remembering  what  he  used 
to  be,  but  in  this  discovery,  he  had  the  anguish  of  recollecting  what  he 
never  was.  For  as  Tom's  blindness  in  this  matter  had  been  total  and 
not  partial,  so  was  his  restored  sight.  His  Pecksniff  could  never  have 
worked  the  wickedness  of  which  he  had  just  now  heard,  but  any  other 
Pecksniff  could ;  and  the  Pecksniff  who  could  do  that,  could  do  anything, 
and  no  doubt  had  been  doing  anything  and  everything  except  the  right 


.MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  371 

tiling,  all  through  his  career.  From  the  lofty  height  on  which  poor 
Tom  had  placed  his  idol  it  was  tumbled  down  headlong,  and 

Not  all  the  king's  horses  nor  all  the  king's  men 
Could  have  set  Mr.  Pecksniff  up  again. 

Legions  of  Titans  could  n't  have  got  him  out  of  the  mud  ;  and  serve  him 
right.  But  it  was  not  he  who  suffered  ;  it  was  Tom.  His  compass  was 
broken,  his  chart  destroyed,  his  chronometer  had  stopped,  his  masts 
were  gone  by  the  board  ;  his  anchor  was  adrift,  ten  thousand  leagues 
away. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  watched  him  with  a  lively  interest,  for  he  divined  the 
purpose  of  Tom's  ruminations,  and  was  curious  to  see  how  he  conducted 
himself.  For  some  time,  Tom  wandered  up  and  down  the  aisle  like  a 
man  demented,  stopping  occasionally  to  lean  against  a  pew  and  think  it 
over ;  then  he  stood  staring  at  a  blank  old  monument  bordered  taste- 
fully with  skulls  and  cross-bones,  as  if  it  were  the  finest  work  of  Art  he 
had  ever  seen,  although  at  other  times  he  held  it  in  unspeakable  con- 
tempt ;  then  he  sat  down  ;  and  then  walked  to  and  fro  again  ;  and  then 
went  wandering  up  into  the  organ-loft,  and  touched  the  keys.  But  their 
minstrelsy  was  changed,  their  music  gone ;  and  sounding  one  long 
melancholy  chord,  Tom  drooped  his  head  upon  his  hands,  and  gave  it 
up  as  hopeless. 

"  I  would  n't  have  cared,"  said  Tom  Pinch,  rising  from  his  stool,  and 
looking  down  into  the  church  as  if  he  had  been  the  Clergyman,  "  I 
would  n't  have  cared  for  anything  he  might  have  done  to  Me,  for  I  have 
tried  his  patience  often,  and  have  lived  upon  his  sufferance,  and  have 
never  been  the  help  to  him  that  others  could  have  been.  I  would  n  t 
have  minded,  Pecksniff,"  Tom  continued,  little  thinking  who  heard  him, 
"  if  you  had  done  Me  any  wrong ;  I  could  have  found  plenty  of  excuses 
for  that ;  and  though  you  might  have  hurt  me,  could  have  still  gone  on 
respecting  you.  But  why  did  you  ever  fall  so  low  as  this  in  my  esteem  ! 
Oh  Pecksniff,  Pecksniff,  there  is  nothing  I  would  not  have  given  to  have 
had  you  deserve  my  old  opinion  of  you  j  nothing  !" 

Mr.  Pecksniff  sat  upon  the  hassock  pulling  up  his  shirt-collar,  while 
Tom,  touched  to  the  quick,  delivered  this  apostrophe.  After  a  pause  he 
heard  Tom  coming  down  the  stairs,  jingling  the  church  keys  ;  and 
bringing  his  eye  to  the  top  of  the  pew  again,  saw  him  go  slowly  out,  and 
lock  the  door. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  durst  not  issue  from  his  place  of  concealment ;  for 
through  the  windows  of  the  church,  he  saw  Tom  passing  on  among  the 
graves,  and  sometimes  stopping  at  a  stone,  and  leaning  there,  as  if  he 
were  a  mourner  who  had  lost  a  friend.  Even  when  he  had  left  the 
churchyard,  Mr.  Pecksniff  still  remained  shut  up  :  not  being  at  all 
secure  but  that  in  his  restless  state  of  mind  Tom  might  come  wandering 
back.  At  length  he  issued  forth,  and  walked  with  a  pleasant  counte- 
nance into  the  vestry ;  where  he  knew  there  was  a  window  near  the 
ground,  by  which  he  could  release  himself  by  merely  stepping  out. 

He  was  in  a  curious  frame  of  mind,  Mr.  Pecksniff:  being  in  no  hurry 
to  go,  but  rather  inclining  to  a  dilatory  trifling  with  the  time,  which 

B  b2 


372  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

prompted  him  to  open  the  vestry  cupboard,  and  look  at  himself  in  the 
parson's  little  glass  that  hung  within  the  door.  Seeing  that  his  hair 
was  rumpled,  he  took  the  liberty  of  borrowing  the  canonical  brush  and 
arranging  it.  He  also  took  the  liberty  of  opening  another  cupboard  ; 
but  he  shut  it  up  again  quickly,  being  rather  startled  by  the  sight  of  a 
black  and  a  white  surplice  dangling  against  the  wall ;  which  had  very  much 
the  appearance  of  two  curates  who  had  committed  suicide  by  hanging 
themselves.  Remembering  that  he  had  seen  in  the  first  cupboard 
a  port-wine  bottle  and  some  biscuits,  he  peeped  into  it  again,  and  helped 
himself  with  much  deliberation  :  cogitating  all  the  time  though,  in  a 
very  deep  and  weighty  manner,  as  if  his  thoughts  were  otherwise  employed. 

He  soon  made  up  his  mind,  if  it  had  ever  been  in  doubt ;  and  putting 
back  the  bottle  and  biscuits,  opened  the  casement.  He  got  out  into  the 
churchyard  without  any  difficulty ;  shut  the  window  after  him  ;  and 
walked  straisrht  home. 

"Is  Mr.  Pinch  in-doors  ?"  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff  of  his  serving-maid. 

"  Just  come  in.  Sir." 

"  Just  come  in,  eh  ?"  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  cheerfully.  "  And  gone 
up-stairs,  I  suppose?" 

"Yes,  Sir.     Gone  up-stairs.     Shall  I  call  him.  Sir?" 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  no.  You  needn't  call  him,  Jane.  Thank 
you,  Jane.     How  are  your  relations,  Jane?" 

"  Pretty  well,  I  thank  you,  Sir." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it.  Let  them  know  I  asked  about  them,  Jane. 
Is  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  in  the  way,  Jane  ?" 

"  Yes,  Sir.      He 's  in  the  parlour,  reading." 

"He's  in  the  parlour,  reading,  is  he,  Jane'?"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  Very  well.     Then  I  think  I  '11  go  and  see  him,  Jane." 

Never  had  Mr.  Pecksniff  been  beheld  in  a  more  pleasant  humour  ! 

But  when  he  walked  into  the  parlour  where  the  old  man  was  engaged 
as  Jane  had  said  ;  with  pen  and  ink  and  paper  on  a  table  close  at  hand 
(for  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  always  very  particular  to  have  him  well  supplied 
with  writing  materials) ;  he  became  less  cheerful.  He  was  not  angry, 
he  was  not  vindictive,  he  was  not  cross,  he  was  not  moody,  but  he  was 
grieved  :  he  was  sorely  grieved.  As  he  sat  down  by  the  old  man's  side, 
two  tears  :  not  tears  like  those  with  which  recording  angels  blot  their 
entries  out,  but  drops  so  precious  that  they  use  them  for  their  ink  : 
stole  down  his  meritorious  cheeks. 

"What  is  the  matter?"  asked  old  Martin.  "Pecksniff,  what  ails 
you,  man  ?" 

"  I  am  sorry  to  interrupt  you,  my  dear  Sir,  and  I  am  still  more  sorry 
for  the  cause.     My  good,  my  worthy  friend,  I  am  deceived." 

"  You  are  deceived  !" 

"  Ah  !"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  an  agony,  "  deceived  in  the  tenderest 
point.  Cruelly  deceived  in  that  quarter,  Sir,  in  which  I  placed  the 
most  unbounded  confidence.  Deceived,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  by  Thomas 
Pinch." 

"  Oh  !  bad,  bad,  bad  ! "  said  Martin,  laying  down  his  book.  "  Very 
bad.     I  hope  not.     Are  you  certain  ?" 


MAnilN    CHUZZLEWIT.  373 

"  Certain,  my  good  Sir  !  My  eyes  and  ears  are  "witnesses.  I  wouldn  't 
have  believed  it  otherwise.  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it,  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit,  if  a  Fiery  Serpent  had  proclaimed  it  from  the  top  of  Salisbury 
Cathedral.  I  would  have  said,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  that  the  Serpent 
lied.  Such  was  my  faith  in  Thomas  Pinch,  that  I  would  have  cast  the 
falsehood  back  into  the  Serpent's  teeth,  and  would  have  taken  Thomas 
to  my  heart.  But  I  am  not  a  Serpent,  Sir,  myself,  I  grieve  to  say,  and 
no  excuse  or  hope  is  left  me." 

Martin  was  greatly  disturbed  to  see  him  so  much  agitated,  and  to 
hear  such  unexpected  news.  Pie  begged  him  to  compose  himself,  and 
asked  upon  what  subject  Mr.  Pinch's  treachery  had  been  developed. 

"  That  is  almost  the  worst  of  all,  Sir,"  Mr.  Pecksniif  answered.  "  On 
a  subject  nearly  concerning  you.  Oh  !  is  it  not  enough,"  said  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  looking  upward,  "  that  these  blows  must  fall  on  me,  but  must 
they  also  hit  my  friends  !" 

"  You  alarm  me,"  cried  the  old  man,  changing  colour.  "  I  am  not  so 
strong  as  I  w^as.     You  terrify  me,  Pecksniff ! " 

"  Cheer  up,  my  noble  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking  courage,  "  and 
we  will  do  what  is  required  of  us.  You  shall  know  all.  Sir,  and  shall  be 
righted.  But  first  excuse  me.  Sir,  ex — cuse  me.  I  have  a  duty  to  dis- 
charge, which  I  owe  to  society." 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  Jane  appeared. 

"  Send  Mr.  Pinch  here,  if  you  ple-ase,  Jane  !" 

Tom  came.  Constrained  and  altered  in  his  manner,  downcast  and 
dejected,  visibly  confused  \  not  liking  to  look  Pecksniff  in  the  face. 

The  honest  man  bestowed  a  glance  on  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  who  should 
say  "  You  see  !"  and  addressed  himself  to  Tom  in  these  terms  : 

"  Mr.  Pinch,  I  have  left  the  vestry-window  unfastened.  Will  you  do 
me  the  favour  to  go  and  secure  it ;  then  bring  the  keys  of  the  sacred 
edifice  to  me  !" 

"  The  vestry-window.  Sir  !"  cried  Tom. 
■  "  You  understand  me  Mr.  Pinch,  I  think"  returned  his  patron.  "  Yes 
]\Ir.  Pinch,  the  vestry-window.  I  grieve  to  say  that  sleeping  in  the 
church  after  a  fatiguing  ramble,  I  overheard  just  now  some  fragments" 
he  emphasised  that  word  "  of  a  dialogue  between  two  parties  ;  and  one 
of  them  locking  the  church  when  he  went  out,  I  was  obliged  to  leave  it 
myself  by  the  vestry-wdndow.  Do  me  the  favour  to  secure  that  vestry- 
window,  Mr.  Pinch,  and  then  come  back  to  me." 

No  physiognomist  that  ever  dwelt  on  earth  could  have  construed 
Tom's  face  when  he  heard  these  words.  Wonder  was  in  it,  and  a  mild 
look  of  reproach,  but  certainly  no  fear  or  guilt,  although  a  host  of  strong 
emotions  struggled  to  display  themselves.  He  bowed,  and  without 
saying  one  word,  good  or  bad,  withdrew. 

"  Pecksniff,"  cried  Martin,  in  a  tremble,  "  what  does  all  this  mean  % 
You  are  not  going  to  do  anything  in  haste,  you  may  regret  ! " 

"  No,  my  good  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  firmly,  "  No.  But  I  have  a 
duty  to  discharge  w^hich  I  owe  to  society  ;  and  it  shall  be  discharged, 
my  friend,  at  any  cost !" 

Oh  late-remembered,  much-forgotten,  mouthing,  braggart  duty,  always 


374  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

owed,  and  seldom  paid  in  any  other  coin  than  punishment  and  wrath, 
when  will  mankind  begin  to  know  thee  !  When  will  men  acknowledge 
thee  in  thy  neglected  cradle,  and  thy  stunted  youth,  and  not  begin  their 
recognition  in  thy  sinful  manhood  and  thy  desolate  old  age !  Oh  ermined 
Judge  whose  duty  to  society  is  now  to  doom  the  ragged  criminal  to 
punishment  and  death,  hadst  thou  never,  Man,  a  duty  to  discharge  in 
barring  up  the  hundred  open  gates  that  wooed  him  to  the  felon's  dock, 
and  throwing  but  ajar  the  portals  to  a  decent  life  !  Oh  prelate,  prelate, 
whose  duty  to  society  it  is  to  mourn  in  melancholy  phrase  the  sad 
degeneracy  of  these  bad  times  in  which  thy  lot  of  honours  has  been  cast, 
did  nothing  go  before  thy  elevation  to  the  lofty  seat,  from  which  thou 
dealest  out  thy  homilies  to  other  tarriers  for  dead  men's  shoes,  whose 
duty  to  society  has  not  begun  !  Oh  magistrate,  so  rare  a  country  gentle- 
man and  brave  a  squire,  had  you  no  duty  to  society,  before  the  ricks 
were  blazing  and  the  mob  were  mad  ;  or  did  it  spring  up  armed  and 
booted  from  the  earth,  a  corps  of  yeomanry,  full-grown  ! 

Mr.  Pecksniff's  duty  to  society  could  not  be  paid  till  Tom  came  back. 
The  interval  which  preceded  the  return  of  that  young  man,  he  occupied 
in  a  close  conference  with  his  friend  ;  so  that  when  Tom  did  arrive,  he 
found  the  two  quite  ready  to  receive  him.  Mary  was  in  her  own  room 
above,  whither  Mr.  Pecksniff,  always  considerate,  had  besought  old 
Martin  to  entreat  her  to  remain  some  half-hour  longer,  that  her  feelings 
might  be  spared. 

When  Tom  came  back,  he  found  old  Martin  sitting  by  the  window, 
and  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  an  imposing  attitude  at  the  table.  On  one  side  of 
him  was  his  pocket-handkerchief ;  and  on  the  other,  a  little  heap  (a  very 
little  heap)  of  gold  and  silver,  and  odd  pence.  Tom  saw,  at  a  glance, 
that  it  was  his  own  salary  for  the  current  quarter. 

" Have  you  fastened  the  vestry- window,  Mr.  Pinch?"  said  Pecksniff. 

«  Yes  Sir." 

"  Thank  you.     Put  down  the  keys  if  you  please,  Mr.  Pinch." 

Tom  placed  them  on  the  table.  He  held  the  bunch  by  the  key  of 
the  organ-loft  (though  it  was  one  of  the  smallest)  and  looked  hard  at  it 
as  he  laid  it  down.  It  had  been  an  old,  old  friend  of  Tom's  ;  a  kind 
companion  to  him,  many  and  many  a  day„ 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  shaking  his  head  :  "  Oh  Mr.  Pinch  !  I 
wonder  you  can  look*  me  in  the  face  !  " 

Tom  did  it  though  ;  and  notwithstanding  that  he  has  been  described 
as  stooping  generally,  he  stood  as  upright  then  as  man  could  stand. 

"  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  taking  up  his  handkerchief,  as  if  he  felt 
that  he  should  want  it  soon,  "  I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  past.  I  will 
spare  you,  and  I  will  spare  myself,  that  pain  at  least." 

Tom's  was  not  a  very  bright  eye,  but  it  was  a  very  expressive  one 
when  he  looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  said  : 

"  Thank  you  Sir.     I  am  very  glad  you  will  not  refer  to  the  past." 

"  The  present  is  enough,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  dropping  a  penny,  "  and 
the  sooner  that  is  past,  the  better.  Mr.  Pinch,  I  will  not  dismiss  you 
without  a  word  of  explanation.  Even  such  a  course  would  be  quite 
justifiable  under  the  circumstances  ;  but  it  might  wear  an  appearance  of 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  3/0 

hurry,  and  I  will  not  do  it ;  for  I  am,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  knocking 
down  another  penny,  "  perfectly  self-possessed.  Therefore  I  will  say  to 
you,  what  I  have  already  said  to  Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 

Tom  glanced  at  the  old  gentleman,  who  nodded  now  and  then  as 
approving  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  sentences  and  sentiments,  but  interposed 
between  them  in  no  other  way. 

"  From  fragments  of  a  conversation  which  I  overheard  in  the 
church,  just  now,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Pecksniff,  "  between  yourself  and  Miss 
Graham — ^I  say  fragments,  because  I  was  slumbering  at  a  considerable 
distance  from  you,  when  I  was  roused  by  your  voices — and  from  what  I 
saw,  I  ascertained  (I  would  have  given  a  great  deal  not  to  have  ascer- 
tained, Mr.  Pinch)  that  you,  forgetful  of  all  ties  of  duty  and  of  honour 
Sir  ;  regardless  of  the  sacred  laws  of  hospitality,  to  which  you  were 
pledged  as  an  Inmate  of  this  house  ;  have  presumed  to  address  Miss 
Graham  with  un-returned  professions  of  attachment  and  proposals  of 
love." 

Tom  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"Do  you  deny  it  Sir?"  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff,  dropping  one  pound  two 
and  fourpence,  and  making  a  great  business  of  picking  it  up  again. 

"  No  Sir,"  replied  Tom.     "  I  do  not." 

"  You  do  not,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  glancing  at  the  old  gentleman. 
"  Oblige  me  by  counting  this  money,  Mr.  Pinch,  and  putting  your  name 
to  this  receipt.     You  do  not?" 

No,  Tom  did  not.  He  scorned  to  deny  it.  He  saw  that  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff having  overheard  his  own  disgrace,  cared  not  a  jot  for  sinking 
lower  yet  in  his  contempt.  He  saw  that  he  had  devised  this  fiction  as 
the  readiest  means  of  getting  rid  of  him  at  once,  but  that  it  must  end 
in  that  any  way.  He  saw  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  reckoned  on  his  not 
denying  it,  because  his  doing  so  and  explaining,  would  incense  the  old 
man  more  than  ever  against  Martin,  and  against  Mary  :  while  Pecksniff 
himself  would  only  have  been  mistaken  in  his  "  fragments."  Deny 
it  !     No. 

"  You  find  the  amount  correct,  do  you  Mr.  Pinch  ?"  said   Pecksniff. 

"  Quite  correct  Sir,"  answered  Tom. 

"  A  person  is  waiting  in  the  kitchen,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  to  'carry 
your  luggage  wherever  you  please.  We  part,  Mr.  Pinch,  at  once,  and 
are  strangers  from  this  time." 

Something  without  a  name  ;  compassion,  sorrow,  old  tenderness,  mis- 
taken gratitude,  habit :  none  of  these,  and  yet  all  of  them  ;  smote  upon 
Tom's  gentle  heart,  at  parting.  There  was  no  such  soul  as  Pecksniff's 
in  that  carcase  ;  and  yet,  though  his  speaking  out  had  not  involved  the 
compromise  of  one  he  loved,  he  could  n't  have  denounced  the  very 
shape  and  figure  of  the  man.     Not  even  then. 

"  I  will  not  say,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shedding  tears,  "  what  a  blow 
this  is.  I  will  not  say  how  much  it  tries  me  ;  how  it  works  upon  my 
nature ;  how  it  grates  upon  my  feelings.  I  do  not  care  for  that.  I 
can  endure  as  well  as  another  man.  But  what  I  have  to  hope,  and 
what  you  have  to  hope,  Mr.  Pinch  (otherwise  a  great  responsibility  rests 
upon  you),  is,  that  this  deception  may  not  alter  my  ideas  of  humanity  ; 


376  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

that  it  may  not  impair  my  freshness,  or  contract,  if  I  may  use  the 
expression,  my  Pinions.  I  hope  it  will  not ;  I  don't  think  it  Avill.  It 
may  be  a  comfort  to  you,  if  not  now,  at  some  future  time,  to  know,  that 
I  shall  endeavour  not  to  think  the  worse  of  my  fellow-creatures  in 
general,  for  what  has  passed  between  us.     Farewell !" 

Tom  had  meant  to  spare  him  one  little  puncturation  with  a  lancet, 
which  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  administer,  but  he  changed  his  mind  on 
hearing  this,  and  said  ; 

"  I  think  you  left  something  in  the  church,  Sir." 
"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  PecksniiF.     "  I  am  not  aware  that 
I  did." 

"  This  is  your  double  eye-glass,  I  believe  ?"  said  Tom. 
"Oh!"    cried    Pecksniff,   with  some   degree  of  confusion.     "I  am 
obliged  to  you.     Put  it  down  if  you  please." 

"  I  found  it,"  said  Tom,  slowly — "  when  I  went  to  bolt  the  vestry- 
window — in  the  Pew." 

So  he  had.  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  taken  it  off  when  he  was  bobbing  up 
and  down,  lest  it  should  strike  against  the  pannelling  :  and  had  for- 
gotten it.  Going  back  to  the  church  with  his  mind  full  of  having  been 
watched,  and  wondering  very  much  from  what  part,  Tom's  attention 
was  caught  by  the  door  of  the  state  pew  standing  open.  Looking  into 
it  he  found  the  glass.  And  thus  he  knew,  and  by  returning  it  gave 
Mr.  Pecksniff  the  information  that  he  knew,  where  the  listener  had 
been  ;  and  that  instead  of  overhearing  fragments  of  the  conversation,  he 
must  have  rejoiced  in  every  word  of  it. 

"  I  am  glad  he's  gone,"  said  Martin,  drawing  a  long  breath  when  Tom 
had  left  the  room. 

"  It  is  a  relief,"  assented  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  It  is  a  great  relief.  But 
having  discharged  :  I  hope  with  tolerable  firmness  :  the  duty  which  I 
owed  to  society,  I  will  now,  my  dear  Sir,  if  you  will  give  me  leave,  retire 
to  shed  a  few  tears  in  the  back  garden,  as  an  humble  individual." 

Tom  went  upstairs ;  cleared  his  shelf  of  books  :  packed  them  up 
"vvith  his  music  and  an  old  fiddle  in  his  trunk  ;  got  out  his  clothes  (they 
were  not  so  many  that  they  made  his  head  ache) ;  put  them  on  the  top 
of  his  books  ;  and  went  into  the  workroom  for  his  case  of  instruments. 
There  was  a  ragged  stool  there,  with  the  horsehair  all  sticking  out  of 
the  top  like  a  wig  :  a  very  Beast  of  a  stool  in  itself :  on  which  he  had 
taken  up  his  daily  seat,  year  after  year,  during  the  whole  period  of  his 
service.  They  had  grown  older  and  shabbier  in  company.  Pupils  had 
served  their  time  ;  seasons  had  come  and  gone  ;  Tom  and  the  worn-out 
stool  had  held  together  through  it  all.  That  part  of  the  room  was  tra- 
ditionally called  "  Tom's  Corner."  It  had  been  assigned  to  him  at  first 
because  of  its  being  situated  in  a  strong  draught,  and  a  great  way  from 
the  fire  ;  and  he  had  occupied  it  ever  since.  There  were  portraits  of 
him  on  the  wall,  with  all  his  weak  points  monstrously  portrayed. 
Diabolical  sentiments,  foreign  to  his  character,  were  represented  as 
issuing  from  his  mouth  in  fat  balloons.  Every  pupil  had  added  some- 
thing, even  unto  fancy  portraits  of  his  father  with  one  eye,  and  of  his 
mother  with  a  disproportionate  nose,  and  especially  of  his  sister  :  who 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  377 

always  being  presento  1  as  extremely  beautiful,  made  full  amends  to 
Tom  for  any  other  joke.  Under  less  uncommon  circumstances,  it 
would  have  cut  Tom  to  the  heart  to  leave  these  things,  and  think  that 
he  saw  them  for  the  last  time  ;  but  it  didn't  now.  There  was  no  Peck- 
sniff ;  there  never  had  been  a  Pecksniff ;  and  all  his  other  griefs  were 
swallowed  up  in  that. 

So  when  he  returned  into  the  bedroom,  and  having  fastened  up  his 
box  and  a  carpet-bag,  had  put  on  his  walking  gaiters,  and  his  great-coat, 
and  his  hat,  and  taken  his  stick  in  his  hand,  he  looked  round  it  for  the 
last  time.  Early  on  summer  mornings,  and  by  the  light  of  private 
candle-ends  on  winter  nights,  he  had  read  himself  half  blind  in  this 
same  room.  He  had  tried  in  this  same  room  to  learn  the  fiddle  under 
the  bedclothes,  but  yielding  to  objections  from  the  other  pupils,  had  re- 
luctantly abandoned  the  design.  At  any  other  time  he  would  have  parted 
from  it  with  a  pang,  thinking  of  all  he  had  learned  there,  of  the  many 
hours  he  had  passed  there  :  for  the  love  of  his  very  dreams.  But  there  was 
no  Pecksniff ;  there  never  had  been  a  Pecksniff ;  and  the  unreality  of 
Pecksniff  extended  itself  to  the  chamber,  in  which,  sitting  on  one  par- 
ticular bed,  the  thing  supposed  to  be  that  Great  Abstraction  had  ofcen 
preached  morality  with  such  effect,  that  Tom  had  felt  a  moisture  in  his 
eyes,  while  hanging  breathless  on  the  words. 

The  man  engaged  to  bear  his  box  :  Tom  knew  him  well.  A  Dragon 
man  :  came  stamping  up  the  stairs,  and  made  a  roughish  bow  to 
Tom  (to  whom  in  common  times  he  would  have  nodded  with  a  grin)  as 
though  he  were  aware  of  what  had  happened,  and  wished  him  to  perceive 
it  made  no  difference  in  him.  It  was  clumsily  done  ;  he  was  a  mere 
waterer  of  horses  ;  but  Tom  liked  the  man  for  it,  and  felt  it  more  than 
going  away. 

Tom  would  have  helped  him  with  the  box,  but  he  made  no  more  of  it, 
tliough  it  was  a  heavy  one,  than  an  elephant  would  have  made  of  a 
castle  :  just  swinging  it  on  his  back  and  bowling  down  stairs  as  if,  being 
naturally  a  heavy  sort  of  fellow,  he  could  carry  a  box  infinitely  better  than 
he  could  go  alone.  Tom  took  the  carpet-bag,  and  went  down  stairs  along 
with  him.  At  the  outer  door  stood  Jane,  crying  with  all  her  might ; 
and  on  the  steps  was  Mrs.  Lupin,  sobbing  bitterly,  and  putting  out  her 
hand  for  Tom  to  shake. 

"  You  're  coming  to  the  Dragon,  Mr.  Pinch  1  " 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  "no.  I  shall  walk  to  Salisbury  to-night.  I  couldn't 
stay  here.    For  goodness'  sake,  don't  make  me  so  unhappy,  Mrs.  Lupin." 

"  But  you  '11  come  to  the  Dragon,  Mr.  Pinch.  If  it's  only  for  to-night. 
To  see  me,  you  know  :   not  as  a  traveller." 

"  God  bless  my  soul  !  "  said  Tom,  wiping  his  eyes.  "  The  kindness  of 
people  is  enough  to  break  one's  heart  !  I  mean  to  go  to  Salisbury  to-night, 
my  dear  good  creature.  If  you'll  take  care  of  my  box  for  me,  till  I 
write  for  it,  I  shall  consider  it  the  greatest  kindness  you  can  do  me." 

"  I  wish,"  cried  Mrs.  Lupin,  "  there  were  twenty  boxes,  Mr.  Pinch, 
that  I  might  have  'em  all." 

"  Thank 'ee  "  said  Tom.     "  It's  like  you.     Good  bye.     Good  bye." 

There  were  several  people,  young  and  old,  standing  about  the  door, 


378  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

some  of  whom  cried  with.  Mrs.  Lupin  ;  wliile  others  tried  to  keep  up  a 
stout  heart  as  Tom  did  ;  and  others  were  absorbed  in  admiration  of  Mr. 
Pecksniff — a  man  who  could  build  a  church,  as  one  may  say,  by  squint- 
ing at  a  sheet  of  paper  ;  and  others  were  divided  between  that  feeling, 
and  sympathy  with  Tom.  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  appeared  on  the  top  of  the 
steps,  simultaneously  with  his  old  pupil,  and  while  Tom  was  talking 
with  Mrs.  Lupin  kept  his  hand  stretched  out,  as  though  he  said  "Go 
forth  !  "  When  Tom  went  forth,  and  had  turned  the  corner,  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff shook  his  head,  shut  his  eyes,  and  heaving  a  deep  sigh,  likewise 
shut  the  door.  On  which,  the  best  of  Tom's  supporters  said  he  must  have 
done  some  dreadful  deed,  or  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  never  could 
have  felt  like  that.  If  it  had  been  a  common  quarrel  (they  observed) 
he  would  have  said  something,  but  when  he  did  n't,  Mr.  Pinch  must  have 
shocked  him  dreadfully. 

Tom  was  out  of  hearing  of  their  shrewd  opinions,  and  plodded  on  as 
steadily  as  he  could  go,  until  he  came  within  sight  of  the  turnpike  where 
the  tollman's  family  had  cried  out  "Mr.  Pinch  !"  that  frosty  morning, 
when  he  went  to  meet  young  Martin.  He  had  got  through  the  village, 
and  this  tollbar  was  his  last  trial ;  but  when  the  infant  toll-takers  came 
screeching  out,  he  had  half  a  mind  to  run  for  it,  and  make  a  bolt  across 
the  country. 

"  Why  deary  Mr.  Pinch  !  oh  deary  Sir ! "  exclaimed  the  tollman's  wife. 
"  What  an  unlikely  time  for  you  to  be  a  going  this  way  with  a  bag!" 

"  I'm  going  to  Salisbury,"  said  Tom. 

"Why,  goodness,  where's  the  gig  then?"  cried  the  tollman's  wife, 
looking  down  the  road,  as  if  she  thought  Tom  might  have  been  upset 
without  observing  it. 

"  I  have  n't  got  it,"  said  Tom.  "  I — "  he  couldn't  evade  it :  he  felt 
she  would  have  him  in  the  next  question,  if  he  got  over  this  one.  "  I 
have  left  Mr.  Pecksniff." 

The  tollman — a  crusty  customer,  always  smoking  solitary  pipes  in  a 
Windsor  chair,  inside,  set  artfully  between  two  little  windows  that  looked 
up  and  down  the  road,  so  that  when  he  saw  anything  coming  up,  he 
might  hug  himself  on  having  toll  to  take,  and  when  he  saw  it  going 
down,  might  hug  himself  on  having  taken  it — the  tollman  was  out  in  an 
instant. 

"  Left  Mr.  Pecksniff!"  cried  the  tollman. 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom,  "  left  him." 

The  tollman  looked  at  his  wife,  uncertain  whether  to  ask  her  if  she 
had  anything  to  suggest,  or  to  order  her  to  mind  the  children.  Asto- 
nishment making  him  surly,  he  preferred  the  latter,  and  sent  her  into 
the  toll-house,  with  a  flea  in  her  ear. 

"  You  left  Mr.  Pecksniff!"  cried  the  tollman,  folding  his  arms,  and 
spreading  his  legs.  "  I  should  as  soon  have  thought  of  his  head  leaving 
him." 

"  Ay  !"  said  Tom,  "  so  should  I,  yesterday.     Good  night !"  ' 

If  a  heavy  drove  of  oxen  had  n't  come  by,  immediately,  the  tollman 
would  have  gone  down  to  the  village  straight  to  inquire  into  it.  As 
things  turned  out,  he  smoked  another  pipe,  and  took  his  wife  into  his 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  379 

confidence.  But  their  united  sagacity  could  make  nothing  of  it,  and 
they  went  to  bed — metaphorically — in  the  dark.  But  several  times 
that  night,  when  a  waggon  or  other  vehicle  came  through,  and  the 
driver  asked  the  tollkeeper  "  What  news  ?"  he  looked  at  the  man  by  the 
light  of  his  lantern,  to  assure  himself  that  he  had  an  interest  in  the 
subject,  and  then  said,  wrapping  his  watch-coat  round  his  legs  : 

"  You've  heerd  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  down  yonder  ? " 

"Ah!  sure-ly!" 

"  And  of  his  young  man  Mr.  Pinch  p'raps  ? " 

"Ah!" 

"  They've  parted." 

After  every  one  of  these  disclosures,  the  tollman  plunged  into  his 
house  again,  and  was  seen  no  more,  while  the  other  side  went  on,  in 
great  amazement. 

But  this  was  long  after  Tom  was  abed,  and  Tom  was  now  with  his 
face  towards  Salisbury,  doing  his  best  to  get  there.  The  evening  was 
beautiful  at  first,  but  it  became  cloudy  and  dull  at  sunset,  and  the  rain 
fell  heavily  soon  afterwards.  For  ten  long  miles  he  plodded  on,  wet 
through,  until  at  last  the  lights  appeared,  and  he  came  into  the  welcome 
precincts  of  the  city. 

He  went  to  the  inn  where  he  had  waited  for  Martin,  and  briefly 
answering  their  enquiries  after  Mr.  Pecksniff,  ordered  a  bed.  He  had 
no  heart  for  tea  or  supper,  meat  or  drink  of  any  kind,  but  sat  by  himself 
before  an  empty  table  in  the  public-room  while  the  bed  was  getting 
ready  :  revolving  in  his  mind  all  that  had  happened  that  eventful  day, 
and  wondering  what  he  could  or  should  do  for  the  future.  It  was  a 
great  relief  when  the  chambermaid  came  in,  and  said  the  bed  was  ready. 

It  was  a  low  four-poster  shelving  downward  in  the  centre  like  a 
trough,  and  the  room  was  crowded  with  impracticable  tables  and 
exploded  chests  of  drawers,  full  of  damp  linen.  A  graphic  representation 
in  oil  of  a  remarkably  fat  ox  hung  over  the  fire-place,  and  the  portrait  of 
some  former  landlord  (who  might  have  been  the  ox's  brother,  he  was  so 
like  him)  stared  roundly  in,  at  the  foot  of  the  bed.  A  variety  of  queer 
smells  were  partially  quenched  in  the  prevailing  scent  of  very  old  laven- 
der ;  and  the  window  had  not  been  opened  for  such  a  long  space  of  time, 
that  it  pleaded  immemorial  usage,  and  wouldn't  come  open  now. 

These  were  trifles  in  themselves,  but  they  added  to  the  strangeness  of 
the  place,  and  did  not  induce  Tom  to  forget  his  new  position.  Pecksniff 
had  gone  out  of  the  world — had  never  been  in  it — and  it  was  as  much 
as  Tom  could  do  to  say  his  prayers  without  him.  But  he  felt  happier 
afterwards,  and  went  to  sleep,  and  dreamed  about  him  as  he  Never  Was. 


380  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 


CHAPTER  XXXII. 

TREATS    OF     TODGERs's    AGAIN  ;     AND    OF    ANOTHER     BLIGHTED     PLANT 
BESIDES    THE    PLANTS    UPON    THE    LEADS. 

Early  on  the  day  next  after  that  on  which  she  bade  adieu  to  the 
halls  of  her  youth  and  the  scenes  of  her  childhood,  Miss  Pecksniff, 
arriving  safely  at  the  coach-office  in  London,  was  there  received,  and 
conducted  to  her  peaceful  home  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Monument, 
by  Mrs.  Todgers.  M.  Todgers  looked  a  little  worn  by  cares  of  gravy 
and  other  such  solicitudes  arising  out  of  her  establishment,  but  displayed 
her  usual  earnestness  and  warmth  of  manner. 

"  And  how,  my  sweet  Miss  Pecksniif,"  said  she,  "  how  is  your 
princely  pa  ?" 

Miss  Pecksniff  signified  (in  confidence)  that  he  contemplated  the 
introduction  of  a  princely  ma ;  and  repeated  the  sentiment  that  she 
wasn't  blind,  and  wasn't  quite  a  fool,  and  wouldn't  bear  it. 

Mrs.  Todgers  was  more  shocked  by  the  intelligence  than  any  one 
could  have  expected.  She  was  quite  bitter.  She  said  there  was  no 
truth  in  man,  and  that  the  warmer  he  expressed  himself,  as  a  general 
principle,  the  falser  and  more  treacherous  he  was.  She  foresaw  with 
astonishing  clearness  that  the  object  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  attachment  was 
designing,  worthless,  and  wicked  ;  and  receiving  from  Charity  the  fullest 
confirmation  of  these  views,  protested  with  tears  in  her  eyes  that  she 
loved  Miss  Pecksniff  like  a  sister,  and  felt  her  injuries  as  if  they  were 
her  own. 

"  Your  real  darling  sister,  I  have  not  seen  more  than  once  since  her 
marriage,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  and  then  I  thought  her  looking  poorly. 
My  sweet  Miss  Pecksniff,  I  always  thought  that  you  was  to  be  the  lady." 

"  Oh  dear  no  !"  cried  Cherry,  shaking  her  head.  "  Oh  no,  Mrs. 
Todgers.     Thank  you.     No  !  not  for  any  consideration  he  could  offer." 

"  I  dare  say  you  are  right,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  with  a  sigh.  "  I 
feared  it  all  along.  But  the  misery  we  have  had  from  that  match,  here 
among  ourselves,  in  this  house,  my  dear  Miss  Pecksniff,  nobody  would 
believe." 

"  Lor,  Mrs.  Todgers  !" 

"  Awful,  awful !"  repeated  Mrs.  Todgers,  with  strong  emphasis. 
"  You  recollect  our  youngest  gentleman,  my  dear  f 

"  Of  course  I  do,"  said  Cherry. 

"  You  might  have  observed,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  how  he  used  to 
watch  your  sister ;  and  that  a  kind  of  stony  dumbness  came  over  him 
whenever  she  was  in  company  1 " 

"  I  am  sure  I  never  saw  anything  of  the  sort,"  said  Cherry,  in  a 
peevish  manner.     "  What  nonsense,  Mrs.  Todgers  !" 

"  My  dear,"  returned  that  lady  in  a  hollow  voice,  "  I  have  seen  him, 
again  and  again,  sitting  over  his  pie  at  dinner,  with  his  spoon  a  perfect 
fixture  in  his  mouth,  looking  at  your  sister.     I  have  seen  him  standing 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  381 

in  a  corner  of  our  drawing-room,  gazing  at  her,  in  such  a  lonely,  melan- 
choly state,  that  he  was  more  like  a  Pump  than  a  man,  and  might  have 
drawed  tears." 

"  I  never  saw  it  !"  cried  Cherry ;  "that's  all  I  can  say." 

"  But  when  the  marriage  took  place,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  proceeding 
with  her  subject,  "when  it  was  in  the  paper,  and  was  read  out  here  at 
breakfast,  I  thought  he  had  taken  leave  of  his  senses,  I  did  indeed.  The 
violence  of  that  young  man,  my  dear  Miss  Pecksniff ;  the  frightful 
opinions  he  expressed  upon  the  subject  of  self-destruction  ;  the  extraor- 
dinary actions  he  performed  with  his  tea  ;  the  clenching  way  in  which 
he  bit  his  bread  and  butter  ;  the  manner  in  which  he  taunted  Mr.  Jin- 
kins  ;  all  combined  to  form  a  picture  never  to  be  forgotten." 

"  It's  a  pity  he  did  n't  destroy  himself,  I  think,"  observed  Miss  Peck- 
sniff. 

"Himself!"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  it  took  another  turn  at  night.  He 
was  for  destroying  other  people  then.  There  was  a  little  chaffing  going 
on — I  hope  you  don't  consider  that  a  low  expression.  Miss  Pecksniff ;  it 
is  always  in  our  gentlemen's  mouths — a  little  chaffing  going  on,  my  dear, 
among  'em,  all  in  good  nature,  when  suddenly  he  rose  up,  foaming  with 
his  fury,  and  but  for  being  held  by  three,  would  have  had  Mr.  Jinkins's 
life  with  a  boot-jack  !" 

Miss  Pecksniff's  face  expressed  supreme  indifference. 

"  And  now,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  now  he  is  the  meekest  of  men.  You 
can  almost  bring  the  tears  into  his  eyes  by  looking  at  him.  He  sits 
with  me  the  whole  day  long  on  Sundays,  talking  in  such  a  dismal  way 
that  I  find  it  next  to  impossible  to  keep  my  spirits  up  equal  to  the 
accommodation  of  the  boarders.  His  only  comfort  is  in  female  society. 
Pie  takes  me  half-price  to  the  play,  to  an  extent  which  I  sometimes  fear 
is  beyond  his  means  ;  and  I  see  the  tears  a  standing  in  his  eyes  during 
the  whole  performance  :  particularly  if  it  is  anything  of  a  comic  nature. 
The  turn  I  experienced  only  yesterday,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  putting  her 
hand  to  her  side,  "  when  the  housemaid  threw  his  bedside  carpet  out 
of  the  window  of  his  room,  while  I  was  sitting  here,  no  one  can  imagine. 
I  thought  it  was  him,  and  that  he  had  done  it  at  last  !" 

The  contempt  with  which  Miss  Charity  received  this  pathetic  account 
of  the  state  to  which  the  youngest  gentleman  in  company  was  reduced, 
did  not  say  much  for  her  power  of  sympathising  with  that  unfortunate 
character.  She  treated  it  with  great  levity,  and  went  on  to  inform  her- 
self, then  and  afterwards,  whether  any  other  changes  had  occurred  in  the 
commercial  boarding-house. 

Mr.  Bailey  was  gone,  and  had  been  succeeded  (such  is  the  decay  of 
human  greatness  !)  by  an  old  woman  whose  name  was  reported  to  be 
Tamaroo  :  which  seemed  an  impossibility.  Indeed  it  appeared  in  the 
fulness  of  time  that  the  jocular  boarders  had  appropriated  the  word  from 
an  English  ballad,  in  which  it  is  supposed  to  express  the  bold  and  fiery 
nature  of  a  certain  hackney-coachman  ;  and  that  it  was  bestowed  upon 
Mr.  Bailey's  successor  by  reason  of  her  having  nothing  fiery  about  her, 
except  an  occasional  attack  of  that  fire  which  is  called  St.  Anthony's. 
This  ancient  female  had  been  engaged,  in  fulfilment  of  a  vow,  registered 
by  Mrs.  Todgers,  that  no  more  boys  should  darken  the  commercial  doors; 


382  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

and  she  was  chiefly  remarkable  for  a  total  absence  of  all  comprehension 
upon  every  subject  whatever.  She  was  a  perfect  Tomb  for  messages  and 
small  parcels  ;  and  when  despatched  to  the  Post-office  with  letters,  had 
been  frequently  seen  endeavouring  to  insinuate  them  into  casual  chinks 
in  private  doors,  under  the  delusion  that  any  door  with  a  hole  in  it 
would  answer  the  purpose.  She  was  a  very  little  old  woman,  and  always 
wore  a  very  coarse  apron  with  a  bib  before  and  a  loop  behind,  together 
with  bandages  on  her  wrists,  which  appeared  to  be  afflicted  with  an 
everlasting  sprain.  She  was  on  all  occasions  chary  of  opening  the  street- 
door,  and  ardent  to  shut  it  again ;  and  she  waited  at  table  in  a  bonnet. 

This  was  the  only  great  change  over  and  above  the  change  which  had 
fallen  on  the  youngest  gentleman.  As  for  him,  he  more  than  corrobo- 
rated the  account  of  Mrs.  Todgers  :  possessing  greater  sensibility  than 
even  she  had  given  him  credit  for.  He  entertained  some  terrible  notions 
of  Destiny,  among  other  matters,  and  talked  much  about  people's  "  Mis- 
sions :"  upon  which  he  seemed  to  have  some  private  information  not 
generally  attainable,  as  he  knew  it  had  been  poor  Merry's  mission  to 
crush  him  in  the  bud.  He  was  very  frail,  and  tearful ;  for  being  aware 
that  a  shepherd's  mission  was  to  pipe  to  his  flocks,  and  that  a  boatswain's 
mission  was  to  pipe  all  hands,  and  that  one  man's  mission  was  to  be  a  paid 
piper,  and  another  man's  mission  was  to  pay  the  piper,  so  he  had  got  it 
into  his  head  that  his  own  peculiar  mission  was  to  pipe  his  eye.  Which 
he  did  perpetually. 

He  often  informed  Mrs.  Todgers  that  the  sun  had  set  upon  him  ; 
that  the  billows  had  rolled  over  him  ;  that  the  Car  of  Juggernaut  had 
crushed  him  ;  and  also  that  the  deadly  Upas  tree  of  Java  had  blighted 
him.     His  name  was  Moddle. 

Towards  this  most  unhappy  Moddle,  Miss  Pecksnifi"  conducted  herself 
at  first  with  distant  haughtiness,  being  in  no  humour  to  be  entertained 
with  dirges  in  honour  of  her  married  sister.  The  poor  young  gentleman 
was  additionally  crushed  by  this,  and  remonstrated  with  Mrs.  Todgers  on 
the  subject. 

"  Even  she  turns  from  me,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  said  Moddle. 

"  Then  why  don't  you  try  and  be  a  little  bit  more  cheerful  Sir  1 " 
retorted  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Cheerful  Mrs.  Todgers  !  Cheerful ! "  cried  the  youngest  gentleman  : 
"  when  she  reminds  me  of  days  for  ever  fled,  Mrs.  Todgers  !" 

"  Then  you  had  better  avoid  her  for  a  short  time  if  she  does,"  said  Mrs. 
Todgers,  "and  come  to  know  her  again,  by  degrees.    That's  my  advice." 

"  But  I  can't  avoid  her,"  replied  Moddle.  "  I  haven't  strength  of  mind 
to  do  it.  Oh  Mrs.  Todgers,  if  you  knew  what  a  comfort  her  nose  is 
to  me  ! " 

"  Her  nose.  Sir  !  "  Mrs.  Todgers  cried. 

"  Her  profile  in  general,"  said  the  youngest  gentleman,  "  but  particu- 
larly her  nose.  It's  so  like  ;"  here  he  yielded  to  a  burst  of  grief;  "  It's  so 
like  hers  who  is  Another's,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  " 

The  observant  matron  did  not  fail  to  report  this  conversation  to 
Charity,  who  laughed  at  the  time,  but  treated  Mr.  Moddle  that  very 
evening  with  increased  consideration,  and  presented  her  side-face  to  him 
as  much  as  possible.     Mr.  Moddle  was  not  less  sentimental  than  usual ; 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  383 

was  rather  more  so,  if  anything  ;  but  lie  sat  and  stared  at  her  with 
glistening  eyes,  and  seemed  grateful. 

"  Well,  Sir  ! "  said  the  lady  of  the  Boarding-House  next  day,  "  you 
held  up  your  head  last  night.     You're  coming  round,  I  think." 

"  Only  because  she 's  so  like  her  who  is  Another's,  Mrs.  Todgers," 
rejoined  the  youth.  "  When  she  talks,  and  when  she  smiles,  I  think 
I'm  looking  on  her  brow  again,  Mrs.  Todgers." 

This  was  likewise  carried  to  Charity,  who  talked  and  smiled  next 
evening  in  her  most  engaging  manner,  and  rallying  Mr,  Moddle  on  the 
lowness  of  his  spirits,  challenged  him  to  play  a  rubber  at  cribbage.  Mr. 
Moddle  taking  up  the  gauntlet,  they  played  several  rubbers  for  sixpences, 
and  Charity  won  them  all.  This  may  have  been  partially  attributable 
to  the  gallantry  of  the  youngest  gentleman,  but  it  was  certainly  refer- 
able to  the  state  of  his  feelings  also ;  for  his  eyes  being  frequently 
dimmed  by  tears,  he  thought  that  aces  were  tens,  and  knaves  queens, 
which  at  times  occasioned  some  confusion  in  his  play. 

On  the  seventh  night  of  cribbage,  when  Mrs.  Todgers,  sitting  by, 
proposed  that  instead  of  gambling  they  should  play  for  "love,"  Mr. 
Moddle  was  seen  to  change  colour.  On  the  fourteenth  night,  he  kissed 
Miss  Pecksniff's  snuffers,  in  the  passage,  when  she  went  up  stairs  to  bed: 
meaning  to  have  kissed  her  hand,  but  missing  it. 

In  short,  Mr.  Moddle  began  to  be  impressed  with  the  idea  that  Miss 
Pecksniff's  mission  was  to  comfort  him  ;  and  Miss  Pecksniff  began  to 
speculate  on  the  probability  of  its  being  her  mission  to  become  ulti- 
mately Mrs.  Moddle.  He  was  a  young  gentleman  (Miss  Pecksniff  was 
not  a  very  young  lady)  with  rising  prospects,  and  "  almost"  enough  to 
live  on.     Really  it  looked  very  well. 

Besides — besides — he  had  been  regarded  as  devoted  to  Merry.  Merry 
had  joked  about  him,  and  had  once  spoken  of  it  to  her  sister  as  a  con- 
quest. He  was  better  looking,  better  shaped,  better  spoken,  better 
tempered,  better  mannered  than  Jonas.  He  was  easy  to  manage,  could 
be  made  to  consult  the  humours  of  his  Betrothed,  and  could  be  shown 
off  like  a  lamb  when  Jonas  was  a  bear.     There  was  the  rub  ! 

In  the  meantime  the  cribbage  went  on,  and  Mrs.  Todgers  went  off;  for 
the  youngest  gentleman,  dropping  her  society,  began  to  take  Miss  Pecksniff 
to  the  play.  He  also  began,  as  Mrs,  Todgers  said,  to  slip  home  "  in  his 
dinner-times,"  and  to  get  away  from  "the  office"  at  unholy  seasons;  and 
twice,  as  he  informed  Mrs.  Todgers  himself,  he  received  anonymous  letters, 
inclosing  cards  from  Furniture  Warehouses — clearly  the  act  of  that 
ungentlemanly  ruffian  Jinkins  :  only  he  had  n't  evidence  enough  to  call 
him  out  upon.  All  of  which,  so  Mrs.  Todgers  told  Miss  Pecksniff,  spoke 
as  plain  English  as  the  shining  sun, 

"  My  dear  Miss  Pecksniff,  you  may  depend  upon  it,"  said  Mrs,  Todgers, 
"  that  he  is  burning  to  propose." 

"  My  goodness  me,  why  don't  he  then  ! "  cried  Cherry, 

"  Men  are  so  much  more  timid  than  we  think  'em,  my  dear,"  returned 
Mrs.  Todgers,  "  They  baulk  themselves  continually,  I  saw  the  words 
on  Todgers's  lips  for  months  and  months  and  months,  before  he  said  'em." 

Miss  Pecksniff  submitted  that  Todgers  might  not  have  been  a  fair 
specimen. 


384  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF  ■" 

"  Oh  yes  he  was.  Oh  bless  you,  yes  my  dear.  I  was  very  particular 
in  those  days,  I  assure  you,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  bridling.  "  No,  no.  You 
give  Mr.  Moddle  a  little  encouragement.  Miss  Pecksniff,  if  you  wish  him 
to  speak ;  and  he'll  speak  fast  enough,  depend  upon  it." 

"  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  encouragement  he  would  have,  Mrs. 
Todgers,"  returned  Charity.  "  He  walks  with  me,  and  plays  cards  with 
me,  and  he  comes  and  sits  alone  with  me." 

"  Quite  right,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers.     "  That's  indispensable,  my  dear." 

"  And  he  sits  very  close  to  me." 

"  Also  quite  correct,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  And  he  looks  at  me." 

"  To  be  sure  he  does,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  And  he  has  his  arm  upon  the  back  of  the  chair  or  sofa,  or  whatever 
it  is — behind  me,  you  know." 

"  /  should  think  so,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  And  then  he  begins  to  cry  !" 

Mrs.  Todgers  admitted  that  he  might  do  better  than  that ;  and  might 
undoubtedly  profit  by  the  recollection  of  the  great  Lord  Nelson's  signal 
at  the  battle  of  Trafalgar.  Still,  she  said,  he  would  come  round,  or,  not 
to  mince  the  matter,  would  be  brought  round,  if  Miss  Pecksniff  took  up 
a  decided  position,  and  plainly  showed  him  that  it  must  be  done. 

Determining  to  regulate  her  conduct  by  this  opinion,  the  young  lady 
received  Mr.  Moddle,  on  the  earliest  subsequent  occasion,  with  an  air  of 
constraint;  and  gradually  leading  him  to  inquire,  in  a  dejected  manner, 
why  she  was  so  changed,  confessed  to  him  that  she  felt  it  necessary  for 
their  mutual  peace  and  happiness  to  take  a  decided  step.  They  had 
been  much  together  lately,  she  observed,  much  together,  and  had  tasted 
the  sweets  of  a  genuine  reciprocity  of  sentiment.  She  never  could  forget 
him,  nor  could  she  ever  cease  to  think  of  him  with  feelings  of  the  liveliest 
friendship;  but  people  had  begun  to  talk,  the  thing  had  been  observed; 
and  it  was  necessary  that  they  should  be  nothing  more  to  each  other, 
than  any  gentleman  and  lady  in  society  usually  are.  She  was  glad  she 
had  had  the  resolution  to  say  thus  much  before  her  feelings  had  been 
tried  too  far;  they  had  been  greatly  tried,  she  would  admit;  but  though 
she  was  weak  and  silly,  she  would  soon  get  the  better  of  it,  she  hoped. 

Moddle,  who  had  by  this  time  become  in  the  last  degree  maudlin,  and 
who  wept  abundantly,  inferred  from  the  foregoing  avowal,  that  it  was 
his  mission  to  communicate  to  others  the  blight  which  had  fallen  on 
himself ;  and  that,  being  a  kind  of  unintentional  Vampire,  he  had  had 
Miss  Pecksniff  assigned  to  him  by  the  Fates,  as  Victim  Number  One. 
Miss  Pecksniff  controverting  this  opinion  as  sinful,  Moddle  was  goaded 
on  to  ask  whether  she  could  be  contented  with  a  blighted  heart;  and  it 
appearing  on  further  examination  that  she  could  be,  plighted  his  dismal 
troth,  which  was  accepted  and  returned. 

He  bore  his  good  fortune  with  the  utmost  moderation.  Instead  of 
being  triumphant,  he  shed  more  tears  than  he  had  ever  been  known  to 
shed  before  :  and,  sobbing,  said  : 

"  Oh,  what  a  day  this  has  been  !  I  can't  go  back  to  the  office  this 
afternoon.     Oh,  what  a  trying  day  this  has  been,  Good  Gracious  !" 


I 


Yiyfl 


'4^, 


'Za^y- 


Y6^zz^ cn^' 1^6^)  aJ^^i^i^yu 


MARTIN    CHFZZLEWIT.  385 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

FURTHER   PROCEEDINGS    IN    EDEN,    AND    A    PROCEEDING    OUT    OF    IT. 
MARTIN    MAKES    A    DISCOVERY    OF    SOME    IMPORTANCE. 

From  Mr.  Moddle  to  Eden  is  an  easy  and  natural  transition.  Mr. 
Moddle,  living  in  the  atmosphere  of  Miss  Pecksniff's  love,  dwelt  (if 
he  had  but  known  it)  in  a  terrestrial  Paradise.  The  thriving  city  of 
Eden  was  also  a  terrestrial  Paradise,  upon  the  showing  of  its  proprie- 
tors. The  beautiful  Miss  Pecksniff  might  have  been  poetically  described 
as  a  something  too  good  for  man  ,'in  his  fallen  and  degraded  state. 
That  was  exactly  the  character  of  the  thriving  city  of  Eden,  as  poetically 
heightened  by  Zephaniah  Scadder,  General  Choke,  and  other  worthies : 
part  and  parcel  of  the  talons  of  that  great  American  Eagle,  which  is 
always  airing  itself  sky-high  in  purest  a?ther,  and  never,  no  never, 
never,  tumbles  down,  with  draggled  wings,  into  the  mud. 

When  Mark  Tapley,  leaving  Martin  in  the  architectural  and  sur- 
veying offices,  had  effectually  strengthened  and  encouraged  his  own 
spirits  by  the  contemplation  of  their  joint  misfortunes,  he  proceeded, 
with  new  cheerfulness,  in  search  of  help  :  congratulating  himself,  as  he 
went  along,  on  the  enviable  position  to  which  he  had  at  last  attained. 

"  I  used  to  think,  sometimes,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  "  as  a  desolate  island 
would  suit  me,  but  I  should  only  have  had  myself  to  provide  for  there, 
and  being  naterally  a  easy  man  to  manage,  there  would  n't  have  been 
much  credit  in  l/mt.  Now  here  I  've  got  my  partner  to  take  care  on, 
and  he 's  something  like  the  sort  of  man  for  the  purpose.  I  want  a  man 
as  is  always  a  sliding  off  his  legs  when  he  ought  to  be  on  'em.  I  want 
a  man  as  is  so  low  down  in  the  school  of  life,  that  he 's  always  a  making 
figures  of  one  in  his  copy-book,  and  can't  get  no  further.  I  want  a 
man  as  is  his  own  great  coat  and  cloak,  and  is  always  a  wrapping  him- 
self up  in  himself.  And  I  have  got  him  too,"  said  Mr.  Tai^ley,  after  a 
moment's  silence.     "  What  a  happiness  1" 

Pie  paused  to  look  round,  uncertain  to  vv'hich  of  the  log-houses  he 
should  repair. 

"  I  don't  know  which  to  take,"  he  observed  ;  "  that 's  the  truth. 
They  're  equally  prepossessing  outside,  and  equally  commodious,  no 
doubt,  within  ;  being  fitted  up  with  every  convenience  that  a  Alligator, 
in  a  state  of  natur',  could  possibly  require.  Let  me  see  !  The  citizen 
as  turned  out  last  night  lives  under  water,  in  the  right  hand  dog-kennel 
at  the  corner.  I  don't  want  to  trouble  him  if  I  can  help  it,  poor  man, 
for  he  is  a  melancholy  object :  a  reg'lar  Settler  in  every  respect.  There 's 
a  house  with  a  winder,  but  I  'm  afraid  of  their  being  proud.  I  don't 
know  whether  a  door  ain't  too  aristocratic  ;  but  here  goes  for  the  first 
one  ! " 

He  went  up  to  the  nearest  cabin,  and  knocked  with  his  hand.  Being 
desired  to  enter,  he  complied. 

c  c 


386  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Xeighbour,"  said  Mark  ;  "  for  I  am  a  neighbour,  tliougli  you  don't 

know  me  ;  I  've  come  a  begging.     Hallo  !  lial — lo  ! Am  I  a-bed, 

and  dreaming  !  " 

He  made  this  exclamation  on  hearing  his  own  name  pronounced,  and 
finding  himself  clasped  about  the  skirts  by  two  little  boys,  whose  faces 
he  had  often  washed,  and  whose  suppers  he  had  often  cooked,  on  board 
of  that  noble,  and  fast-sailing  line  of  packet  ship,  the  Screw. 

"  My  eyes  is  wrong  !"  said  Mark.  "  I  don't  believe  'em.  That  ain't 
my  fellow-passenger  yonder,  a  nursing  her  little  girl,  who,  I  am  sorry  to 
see,  is  so  delicate ;  and  that  ain't  her  husband  as  come  to  New  York  to 
fetch  her.  Nor  these,"  he  added,  looking  down  upon  the  boys,  "  ain't 
them  two  young  shavers  as  was  so  familiar  to  me  j  though  they  are 
uncommon  like  'em.     That  I  must  confess." 

The  woman  shed  tears,  in  very  joy  to  see  him  ;  the  man  shook  both 
his  hands,  and  would  not  let  them  go  ;  the  two  boys  hugged  his  legs  ;  the 
sick  child,  in  the  mother's  arms,  stretched  out  her  burning  little  fingers, 
and  muttered,  in  her  hoarse,  dry  throat,  his  well-remembered  name. 

It  was  the  same  family,  sure  enough.  Altered  by  the  salubrious  air 
of  Eden.     But  the  same. 

"  This  is  a  new  sort  of  a  morning  call,"  said  Mark,  drawing  a  long 
breath.  "  It  strikes  one  all  of  a  heap.  Wait  a  little  bit  !  I  'm  a 
coming  round,  fast.  That  '11  do  !  These  gentlemen  ain't  my  friends. 
Are  they  on  the  wisiting  list  of  the  house  1 " 

The  inquiry  referred  to  certain  gaunt  pigs,  who  had  walked  in  after 
him,  and  were  much  interested  in  the  heels  of  the  family.  As  they  did 
not  belong  to  the  mansion,  they  were  expelled  by  the  two  little  boys. 

"  I  ain't  superstitious  about  toads,"  said  Mark,  looking  round  the 
room,  "  but  if  you  could  prevail  upon  the  two  or  three  I  see  in  company, 
to  step  out  at  the  same  time,  my  young  friends,  I  think  they  'd  find  the 
open  air  refreshing.  Not  that  I  at  all  object  to  'em.  A  very  handsome 
animal  is  a  toad,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  sitting  down  upon  a  stool  :  "  very 
spotted  ;  very  like  a  partickler  style  of  old  gentleman  about  the  throat ; 
very  bright-eyed,  very  cool,  and  very  slippy.  But  one  sees  'em  to  the 
best  advantage  out  of  doors  perhaps." 

While  pretending,  with  such  talk  as  this,  to  be  perfectly  at  his  ease, 
and  to  be  the  most  indifferent  and  careless  of  men,  Mark  Tapley  had  an 
eye  on  all  around  him.  The  wan  and  meagre  aspect  of  the  family,  the 
changed  looks  of  the  poor  mother,  the  fevered  child  she  held  in  her 
lap,  the  air  of  great  despondency  and  little  hope  on  everything,  were 
plain  to  him,  and  made  a  deep  impression  on  his  mind.  He  saw  it  all 
as  clearly  and  as  quickly,  as  with  his  bodily  eyes  he  saw  the  rough 
shelves  supported  by  pegs  driven  between  the  logs,  of  wliich  the  house 
was  made  ;  the  flour-cask  in  the  corner,  serving  also  for  a  table  ;  the 
blankets,  spades,  and  other  articles  against  the  walls  ;  the  damp  that 
blotched  the  ground  ;  or  the  crop  of  vegetable  rottenness  in  every  crevice 
of  the  hut. 

"  How  is  it  that  you  have  come  here  ?  "  asked  the  man,  when  their 
first  expressions  of  surprise  were  over. 

"  Why,  we  come  by  the  steamer  last  night,"  replied  Mark.     "  Our 


( 


y  / 


7^      ,7  / 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  387 

intention  is  to  make  our  fortuns  with  punctuality  and  dispatch  ;  and 
to  retire  upon  our  property  as  soon  as  ever  it's  realised.  But  how  are 
you  all  ?     You  're  looking  noble  !  " 

"  We  are  but  sickly  now,"  said  the  poor  woman,  bending  over  her 
child.     "  But  we  shall  do  better  when  we  are  seasoned  to  the  place." 

"  There  are  some  here,"  thought  Mark,  "  whose  seasoning  will  last  for 
ever." 

But  he  said  cheerfully,  "  Do  better  !  To  be  sure  you  will.  We  shall 
all  do  better.  What  we  've  got  to  do,  is,  to  keep  up  our  spirits,  and  be 
neighbourly.  We  shall  come  all  right  in  the  end,  never  fear.  That 
reminds  me,  by  the  bye,  that  my  partner's  all  wrong  just  at  present  ; 
and  that  I  looked  in,  to  beg  for  him.  I  wish  you'd  come,  and  give  me 
your  opinion  of  him,  master." 

That  must  have  been  a  very  unreasonable  request  on  t?ie  part  of 
Mark  Tapley,  with  which,  in  their  gratitude  for  his  kind  offices  on 
board  the  ship,  they  would  not  have  complied  instantly.  The  man  rose 
to  accompany  him  without  a  moment's  delay.  Before  they  went,  ]\Iark 
took  the  sick  child  in  his  arms,  and  tried  to  comfort  the  mother  ;  but 
the  hand  of  death  was  on  it  then,  he  saw. 

They  found  Martin  in  the  house,  lying  wrapped  up  in  his  blanket  on 
the  ground.  He  was,  to  all  appearance,  very  ill  indeed,  and  shook  and 
shivered  horribly :  not  as  people  do  from  cold,  but  in  a  frightful  kind 
of  spasm  or  convulsion,  that  racked  his  whole  body.  Mark's  friend 
pronounced  his  disease  an  aggravated  kind  of  fever,  accompiinied  Avith 
ague  ;  which  was  very  common  in  those  parts,  and  which  he  predicted 
would  be  worse  to-morrow,  and  for  many  more  to-morrows.  He  had 
had  it  himself  off  and  on,  he  said,  for  a  couple  of  years  or  so  ;  but 
he  was  thankful  that,  while  so  many  he  had  known  had  died  about 
him,  he  had  escaped  with  life. 

"  And  with  not  too  much  of  that,"  thought  Mark,  surveying  his 
emaciated  form.     "  Eden  for  ever  !  " 

They  had  some  medicine  in  their  chest ;  and  this  man  of  sad  expe- 
rience showed  Mark  how  and  when  to  administer  it,  and  how  he  could 
best  alleviate  the  sufferings  of  Martin.  His  attentions  did  not  stop 
there;  for  he  was  backwards  and  forwards  constantly,  and  rendered  Mark 
good  service  in  all  his  brisk  attempts  to  make  their  situation  more 
endurable.  Hope  or  comfort  for  the  future  he  could  not  bestow.  The 
season  was  a  sickly  one  ;  the  settlement  a  grave.  His  child  died  that 
night ;  and  Mark,  keeping  the  secret  from  Martin,  helped  to  bury  it, 
beneath  a  tree,  next  day. 

With  all  his  various  duties  of  attendance  upon  Martin  (who  became 
the  more  exacting  in  his  claims,  the  worse  he  grew),  Mark  vrorked  out 
of  doors,  early  and  late ;  and  with  the  assistance  of  his  friend  and 
others,  laboured  to  do  something  with  their  land.  Not  that  he  had  the 
least  strength  of  heart  or  hope,  or  steady  purpose  in  so  doing,  beyond 
the  habitual  cheerfulness  of  his  disposition,  and  his  amazing  power  of 
self-sustainment ;  for  within  himself,  he  looked  on  their  condition  as 
beyond  all  hope,  and,  in  his  own  words,  "  came  out  strong "  in  con- 
sequence. 

cc2 


388  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

"  As  to  coming  out  as  strong  as  I  could  wish,  Sir,"  he  confided  to 
Martin  in  a  leisure  moment ;  that  is  to  say,  one  evening,  while  he  was 
w^ashing  the  linen  of  the  establishment,  after  a  hard  day's  work,  "  that 
I  give  up.  It 's  a  piece  of  good  fortune  as  never  is  to  happen  to  me,  I 
see  ! 

"Would  you  wish  for  circumstances  stronger  than  these?"  Martin 
retorted  with  a  groan,  from  underneath  his  blanket. 

"  Why,  only  see  how  easy  they  might  have  been  stronger,  Sir,"  said 
Mark,  "  if  it  wasn't  for  the  envy  of  that  uncommon  fortun  of  mine, 
which  is  always  after  me,  and  tripping  me  up.  The  night  we  landed 
here,  I  thought  things  did  look  pretty  jolly.  I  won't  deny  it.  I  thought 
they  did  look  pretty  jolly." 

"  How  do  they  look  now  ?"  groaned  Martin. 

"  Ah  !"  said  Mark,  "  Ah  to  be  sure.  That's  the  question.  How  do 
they  look  now  !  On  the  very  first  morning  of  my  going  out,  what  do  I 
do  1  Stumble  on  a  family  I  know,  who  are  constantly  assisting  of  us  in 
all  sorts  of  ways,  from  that  time  to  this  !  That  won't  do,  you  know : 
that  ain't  what  I'd  aright  to  expect.  If  I  had  stumbled  on  a  serpent, 
and  got  bit ;  or  stumbled  on  a  first-rate  patriot,  and  got  bowie-knifed  ; 
or  stumbled  on  a  lot  of  Sympathizers  with  inverted  shirt-collars,  and  got 
made  a  lion  of ;  I  might  have  distinguished  myself,  and  earned  some 
credit.  As  it  is,  the  great  object  of  my  voyage  is  knocked  on  the  head. 
So  it  would  be,  v/herever  I  went.     How  do  you  feel  to-night  Sir?" 

"  Worse  than  ever,"  said  poor  Martin. 

"  That's  something,"  returned  Mark,  "  but  not  enough.  Nothing  but 
being  very  bad  myself,  and  jolly  to  the  last,  will  ever  do  me  justice." 

"  in  Heaven  s  name,  don't  talk  of  that,"  said  Martin,  with  a  thrill  of 
terror.      "What  should  I  do,  Mark,  if  you  were  taken  ill  !" 

Mr.  Tapley's  spirits  appeared  to  be  stimulated  by  this  remark,  although 
it  was  not  a  very  flattering  one.  He  proceeded  with  his  washing  in  a 
brighter  mood  ;  and  observed  "  that  his  glass  was  a-rising." 

"  There's  one  good  thing  in  this  place.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  scrubbing 
away  at  the  linen,  "  as  disposes  me  to  be  jolly  ;  and  that  is,  that  it's  a 
reg'lar  little  United  States  in  itself.  There 's  two  or  three  American 
settlers  left ;  and  they  coolly  comes  over  one,  even  here  Sir,  as  if  it  was 
the  wholesomest  and  loveliest  spot  in  the  world.  But  they  're  like  the 
Cock  that  went  and  hid  himself  to  save  his  life,  and  was  found  out  by 
the  noise  he  made.  They  can 't  help  crowing.  They  was  born  to  do  it ; 
and  do  it  they  must,  whatever  comes  of  it." 

Glancing  from  his  work,  out  at  the  door,  as  he  said  these  words, 
Mark's  eyes  encountered  a  lean  person  in  a  blue  frock  and  a  straw  hat, 
with  a  short  black  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  a  great  hickory  stick,  studded 
all  over  with  knots,  in  his  hand  ;  who,  smoking  and  chewing  as  he  came 
along,  and  spitting  frequently,  recorded  his  progress  by  a  train  of 
decomposed  tobacco  on  the  ground. 

"  Here 's  one  on  'em,"  cried  Mark,  "  Hannibal  Chollop." 

"  Don't  let  him  in,"  said  Martin,  feebly. 

"  He  won't  want  any  letting  in,"  replied  Mark.     "  He'll  come  in.  Sir." 

Which  turned  out  to  be  quite  true,  for  he  did.     His  face  was  almost 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  389 

as  hard  and  knobby  as  liis  stick  ;  and  so  were  bis  hands.  His  bead  was 
like  an  old  black  hearth-broom.  He  sat  down  on  the  chest  with  his  hat 
on  ;  and  crossing  his  legs  and  looking  up  at  Mark,  said,  without  removing 
his  pipe : 

"  Well  Mr.  Co  !  and  how  do  you  git  along,  Sir  ?" 

It  may  be  necessary  to  observe  that  Jlr.  Tapley  had  gravely  introduced 
himself  to  all  strangers,  by  that  name. 

"  Pretty  well,  Sir ;  pretty  well,"  said  Mark. 

"  If  this  ain't  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  ain't  it  !"  exclaimed  the  visitor.  "  How 
do  you  git  along,  Sirl" 

Martin  shook  his  head,  and  drew  the  blanket  over  it  involuntarily  ; 
for  he  felt  that  Hannibal  was  going  to  spit ;  and  his  eye,  as  the  song 
says,  was  upon  him. 

"  You  need  not  regard  me,  Sir,"  observed  iMr.  Chollop,  complacently. 
"I  am  fever-proof,  and  likewise  agur." 

"  Mine  was  a  more  selfish  motive,"  said  Martin,  looking  out  again. 
"  I  was  afraid  you  were  going  to " 

"I  can  calc'late  my  distance.  Sir,"  returned  Mr.  Chollop,  "to  an 
inch." 

With  a  proof  of  which  happy  faculty  he  immediately  favoured  him. 

"  I  re-quire,  Sir,"  said  Hannibal,  "  two  foot  clear  in  a  circ'lar  di-rection 
and  can  engage  my-self  toe  keep  within  it.  I  have  gone  ten  foot,  in  a 
circ'lar  di-rection,  but  that  was  for  a  wager." 

"  I  hope  you  won  it,  Sir,"  said  Mark. 

"  Well  Sir,  I  realised  the  stakes,"  said  Chollop.     "Yes  Sir." 

He  was  silent  for  a  time,  during  which  he  was  actively  engaged  in 
the  formation  of  a  magic  circle  round  the  chest  on  which  he  sat.  When 
it  was  completed,  he  began  to  talk  again. 

"  How  do  you  like  our  country,  Sir  ?"  he  inquired,  looking  at  Martin. 

"  Not  at  all,"  was  the  invalid's  reply. 

Chollop  continued  to  smoke  without  the  least  appearance  of  emotion, 
until  he  felt  disposed  to  speak  again.  That  time  at  length  arriving,  he 
took  his  pipe  from  his  mouth,  and  said  : 

"  I  am  not  surprised  to  hear  you  say  so.  It  re-quires  An  elevation, 
and  A  preparation  of  the  intellect.  The  mind  of  man  must  be  prepared 
for  Freedom,  Mr.  Co." 

He  addressed  himself  to  Mark  :  because  he  saw  that  Martin,  who 
wished  him  to  go,  being  already  half-mad  with  feverish  irritation  which 
the  droning  voice  of  this  new  horror  rendered  almost  insupportable, 
had  closed  his  eyes,  and  turned  on  his  uneasy  bed. 

"  A  little  bodily  preparation  wouldn't  be  amiss,  either,  would  it  Sir,"^ 
said  Mark,  "  in  the  case  of  a  blessed  old  swamp  like  this  ?" 

"  Do  you  con-sider  this  a  swamp,  Sir  1"  inquired  Chollop  gravely. 

"  Why  yes.  Sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  I  have  n't  a  doubt  about  it, 
myself." 

"The  sentiment  is  quite  Europian,"  said  the  Major,  "and  does  not 
surprise  me  :  what  would  your  English  millions  say  to  such  a  swamp  in 
England,  Sir  T 

"  They  'd  say  it  was  an  uncommon  nasty  one,  I  should  think,"  said 


390  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Mark  ;  "  and  tliat  tliey  would  rather  be  inoculated  for  fever  in  some 
other  way," 

"Europian!"  remarked  Chollop^  with  sardonic  pity.  "Quite 
Europian  !" 

And  there  he  sat.  Silent  and  cool,  as  if  the  house  were  his ;  smoking 
away  like  a  factory  chimney. 

Mr.  Chollop  was,  of  course,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in  the 
country ;  but  he  really  was  a  notorious  person  besides.  He  was 
usually  described  by  his  friends,  in  the  South  and  West,  as  "  a  splendid 
sample  of  our  na-tive  raw  material,  Sir,"  and  was  much  esteemed  for 
his  devotion  to  rational  Liberty  ]  for  the  better  propagation  whereof  he 
usually  carried  a  brace  of  revolving-pistols  in  his  coat  pocket,  with 
seven  barrels  apiece.  He  also  carried,  amongst  other  trinkets,  a  sword- 
stick,  which  he  called  his  "  Tickler ;"  and  a  great  knife,  which  (for  he 
was  a  man  of  a  pleasant  turn  of  humour)  he  called  "  Ripper,"  in  allusion 
to  its  usefulness  as  a  means  of  ventilating  the  stomach  of  any  adversary 
in  a  close  contest.  He  had  used  these  weapons  with  distinguished  effect 
in  several  instances  ;  all  duly  chronicled  in  the  newspapers ;  and  was 
greatly  beloved  for  the  gallant  manner  in  which  he  had  "jobbed  out"  the 
eye  of  one  gentleman,  as  he  was  in  the  act  of  knocking  at  his  own  street- 
door. 

Mr.  Chollop  was  a  man  of  a  roving  disposition  ;  and,  in  any  less 
advanced  community,  might  have  been  mistaken  for  a  violent  vagabond. 
But  his  fine  qualities  being  perfectly  understood  and  appreciated  in 
those  regions  where  his  lot  was  cast,  and  where  he  had  many  kindred 
spirits  to  consort  with,  he  may  be  regarded  as  having  been  born  under 
a  fortunate  star,  which  is  not  always  the  case  with  a  man  so  much 
before  the  age  in  which  he  lives.  Preferring,  with  a  view  to  the 
gratification  of  his  tickling  and  ripping  fancies,  to  dwell  upon  the  out- 
skirts of  society,  and  in  the  more  remote  towns  and  cities,  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  emigrating  from  place  to  place,  and  establishing  in  each  some 
business — -usually  a  newspaper — which  he  presently  sold  :  for  the 
most  part  closing  the  bargain  by  challenging,  stabbing,  pistolling,  or 
gouging,  the  new  editor,  before  he  had  quite  taken  possession  of  the 
property. 

He  had  come  to  Eden  on  a  speculation  of  this  kind,  but  had  abandoned 
it,  and  was  about  to  leave.  He  always  introduced  himself  to  strangers 
as  a  worshipper  of  Freedom  ;  was  the  consistent  advocate  of  Lynch  law, 
and  slavery  ;  and  invariably  recommended,  both  in  print  and  speech, 
the  "tarring  and  feathering"  of  any  unpopular  person  who  differed 
from  himself.  He  called  this  "  planting  the  standard  of  civilisation  in 
the  wilder  gardens  of  My  country." 

There  is  little  doubt  that  Chollop  would  have  planted  this  standard 
in  Eden  at  Mark's  expense,  in  return  for  his  plainness  of  speech  (for  the 
genuine  Freedom  is  dumb  save  when  she  vaunts  herself),  but  for  the 
utter  desolation  and  decay  prevailing  in  the  settlement,  and  his  own 
approaching  departure  from  it.  As  it  was,  he  contented  himself  with 
showing  Mark  one  of  the  revolving-pistols,  and  asking  him  what  he 
thought  of  that  weapon. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  391 

"  It  ain't  long,  since  I  shot  a  man  down  with  that,  Sir,  in  the  State 
of  Illinoj/,"  observed  Chollop. 

"  Did  you,  indeed  !"  said  Mark,  without  the  smallest  agitation.    "  Very 
free  of  you.     And  very  independent !" 

"  I  shot  him  down  Sir,"   pursued  Chollop,    "for  asserting   in   the 
Spartan  Portico,  a  tri- weekly  journal,  that  the  ancient  Athenians  Avent 
a-iiead  of  the  present  Locofoco  Ticket." 
"  And  what  's  that  T '  asked  Mark. 

"  Europian  not  to  know,"  said  Chollop,  smoking  placidly.     "  Europian 
quite!" 

After  a  short  devotion  to  the  interests  of  the  magic  circle,  he  resumed 
the  conversation  by  observing  : 

"  You  won't  half  feel  yourself  at  home  in  Eden,  now  1 " 
^'No,"  said  Mark,  "1  don't." 

"  You  miss  the  imposts  of  your  country.     You  miss  the  house  dues  ?" 
■•observed  Chollop. 

"  And  the  houses — rather,"  said  Mark. 
"  No  window  dues  here  Sir,"  observed  Chollop. 
"  And  no  windows  to  put  'em  on,"  said  Mark. 

"  No  stakes,  no  dungeons,  no  blocks,  no  racks,  no  scaffolds,  no  thumb- 
screws, no  pikes,  no  pillories,"  said  Chollop. 

"  Nothing  but  rewolvers  and  bowie  knives,"  returned  Mark.  "  And 
what  are  they  ?     Not  worth  mentioning  ! " 

The  man  who  had  met  them  on  the  night  of  their  arrival  came  crawl- 
ing up  at  this  juncture,  and  looked  in  at  the  door. 

"Well,  Sir  !"  said  Chollop.     "  How  do  j/ou  git  along  f 
He  had  considerable  difficulty  in  getting  along  at  all,  and  said  as 
much  in  reply. 

"  Mr.  Co  And  me,  Sir,"  observed  Chollop,  "  are  disputating  a  piece. 
He  ought  to  be  slicked  up  pretty  smart,  to  disputate  between  the  Old 
World  and  the  New,  I  do  expect?" 

"  Well !"  returned  the  miserable  shadow.     "  So  he  had." 
"  I  was  merely  observing,  Sir,"  said  Mark,  addressing  this  new  visitor, 
"  that  I  looked  upon  the  city  in  w^hich  we  have  the  honour  to  live,  as 
being  swampy.     What's  your  sentiments  ?" 

"  I  opinionate  it's  moist,  perhaps,  at  certain  times,"  returned  the  man. 
"  But  not  as  moist  as  England,  Sir  T'  cried  Chollop,  with  a  fierce 
expression  in  his  face. 

"  Oh  !  Not  as  moist  as  England  ;  let  alone  its  Institutions,"  said  the 
man. 

"  I  should  hope  their  ain't  a  swamp  in  all  Americay,  as  don't  w^hip 
that  small  island  into  mush  and  molasses,"  observed  Chollop,  decisively. 
"You  bought  slick,  straight,  and  right  away,  of  Scadder,  Sir?"  to 
Mark. 

He  answered  in  the  affirmative.  Mr.  Chollop  winked  at  the  other 
citizen. 

"  Scadder  is  a  smart  man.  Sir  1  He  is  a  rising  man  1  He  is  a  man 
as  will  come  up'ards,  right  side  up  Sir  ] "  Mr.  Chollop  winked  again  at 
the  other  citizen. 


392  LIFE    AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

"  He  should  have  his  right  side  very  high  up,  if  I  had  my  way/'  said 
Mark.     '•  As  high  up  as  the  top  of  a  good  tall  gallows,  perhaps." 

Mr.  ChoUop  was  so  delighted  at  the  smartness  of  his  excellent  country- 
man having  been  too  much  for  the  Britisher,  and  at  the  Britisher's 
resenting  it,  that  he  could  contain  himself  no  longer,  and  broke  forth  in 
a  shout  of  delight.  But  the  strangest  exposition  of  this  ruling  passion 
was  in  the  other  :  the  pestilence-stricken,  broken,  miserable  shadow  of  a 
man  :  who  derived  so  much  entertainment  from  the  circumstance,  that 
he  seemed  to  forget  his  own  ruin  in  thinking  of  it,  and  laughed  outright 
when  he  said  "  that  Scadder  was  a  smart  man,  and  had  drawd  a  lot  of 
British  capital  that  way,  as  sure  as  sun-up." 

After  a  full  enjoyment  of  this  joke,  Mr.  Hannibal  Chollop  sat  smoking 
and  improving  the  circle,  without  making  any  attempts  either  to  con- 
verse, or  to  take  leave  ;  apparently  labouring  under  the  not  uncommon 
delusion,  that  for  a  free  and  enlightened  citizen  of  the  United  States  to 
convert  another  man's  house  into  a  spittoon  for  two  or  three  hours 
together,  was  a  delicate  attention,  full  of  interest  and  politeness,  of  which 
nobody  could  ever  tire.     At  last  he  rose. 

"  I  am  a  going  easy,"  he  observed. 

Mark  entreated  him  to  take  particular  care  of  himself. 

"  Afore  I  go,"  he  said  sternly,  "  I  have  got  a  leetle  word  to  say  to  you. 
You  are  damnation  'cute,  you  are." 

Mark  thanked  him  for  the  compliment. 

"  But  you  are  much  too  'cute  to  last.  I  can't  con-ceive  of  any  spotted 
Painter  in  the  bush,  as  ever  was  so  riddled  through  and  through  as  you 
will  be,  I  bet." 

'^  What  for?"  asked  Mark. 

'-  We  must  be  cracked-up,  Sir,"  retorted  Chollop,  in  a  tone  of  menace. 
"  You  are  not  now  in  A  despotic  land.  We  are  a  model  to  the  airth,  and 
must  be  jist  cracked-up,  I  tell  you." 

''What,  I  speak  too  free,  do  I  ?"  cried  Mark. 

"  I  have  draw'd  upon  A  man,  and  fired  upon  A  man  for  less,"  said 
Chollop,  frowning.  "  I  have  know'd  strong  men  obleeged  to  make 
themselves  uncommon  skase  for  less.  I  have  know'd  men  Lynched  for 
less,  and  beaten  into  punkin'-sarse  for  less,  by  an  enlightened  people. 
We  are  the  intellect  and  virtue  of  the  airth,  the  cream  Of  human  natur', 
and  the  flower  Of  moral  force.  Our  backs  is  easy  ris.  We  must  be 
cracked-up,  or  they  rises,  and  we  snarls.  We  shows  our  teeth,  I  tell  you, 
fierce.     You  'd  better  crack  us  up,  you  had  ! " 

After  the  delivery  of  this  caution,  Mr.  Chollop  departed  ;  with  Ripper, 
Tickler,  and  the  revolvers,  all  ready  for  action  on  the  shortest  notice. 

"  Come  out  from  under  the  blanket,  Sir,"  said  Mark,  "  he 's  gone. 
V/hat  's  this ! "  he  added  softly  :  kneeling  down  to  look  into  his 
partner's  face,  and  taking  his  hot  hand.  "  What 's  come  of  all  that 
chattering  and  swaggering  ?■  He 's  wandering  in  his  mind  to-night,  and 
don't  know  me  ! " 

Martin  indeed  was  dangerously  ill ;  very  near  his  death.  He  lay  in 
that  state  many  days,  during  which  time  Mark's  poor  friends,  regardless 
of  themselves,  attended  him.     Mark,  fatigued  in  mind  and  body ;  work- 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  393 

ing  all  tlie  day  and  sitting  up  at  night ;  worn  with  hard  living  and  the 
unaccustomed  toil  of  his  new  life  ;  surrounded  by  dismal  and  discourag- 
ing circumstances  of  every  kind  ;  never  complained  or  yielded  in  the 
least  degree.  If  ever  he  had  thought  Martin  selfish  or  inconsiderate,  or 
had  deemed  him  energetic  only  by  fits  and  starts,  and  then  too  passive 
for  their  desperate  fortunes,  he  now  forgot  it  all.  He  remembered 
nothing  but  the  better  qualities  of  his  fellow-wanderer,  and  was  devoted 
to  him,  heart  and  hand. 

Many  weeks  elapsed  before  Martin  was  strong  enough  to  move  about 
with  the  help  of  a  stick  and  Mark's  arm  ;  and  even  then  his  recovery,  for 
want  of  wholesome  air  and  proper  nourishment,  was  very  slow.  He  was 
yet  in  a  feeble  and  weak  condition,  when  the  misfortune  he  had  so  much 
dreaded  fell  upon  them.     Mark  was  taken  ill. 

i\Iark  fought  against  it ;  but  the  malady  fought  harder,  and  his 
efforts  were  in  vain. 

"  Floored  for  the  present,  Sir,"  he  said  one  morning,  sinking  back 
upon  his  bed  :  "  but  jolly  !" 

Floored  indeed,  and  by  a  heavy  blow  !  As  any  one  but  Martin  might 
have  known  beforehand. 

If  Mark's  friends  had  been  kind  to  Martin  (and  they  had  been  very), 
they  were  twenty  times  kinder  to  Mark.  And  now  it  was  Martin's 
turn  to  work,  and  sit  beside  the  bed  and  watch,  and  listen  through  the 
long,  long  nights,  to  every  sound  in  the  gloomy  wilderness ;  and  hear 
poor  ]\Ir.  Tapley,  in  his  wandering  fancy,  playing  at  skittles  in  the 
Dragon,  making  love-remonstrances  to  Mrs.  Lupin,  getting  his  sea-legs 
on  aboard  the  Screw,  travelling  with  old  Tom  Pinch  on  English  roads, 
and  burning  stumps  of  trees  in  Eden,  all  at  once. 

But  whenever  Martin  gave  him  drink  or  medicine,  or  tended  him  in 
any  way,  or  came  into  the  house  returning  from  some  drudgery  without, 
the  patient  Mr.  Tapley  brightened  up,  and  cried:  "I'm  jolly,  sir: 
I'm  jolly!" 

Now,  when  Martin  began  to  think  of  this,  and  to  look  at  Mark  as  he 
lay  there ;  never  reproaching  him  by  so  much  as  an  expression  of  regret ; 
never  murmuring  ;  always  striving  to  be  manful  and  staunch ;  he  began 
to  think,  how  was  it  that  this  man  who  had  had  so  few  advantages,  was  so 
much  better  than  he  who  had  had  so  many  1  And  attendance  upon  a  sick 
bed,  but  especially  the  sick  bed  of  one  whom  we  have  been  accustomed 
to  see  in  full  activity  and  vigour,  being  a  great  breeder  of  reflection,  he 
began  to  ask  himself  in  what  they  diftered. 

He  was  assisted  in  coming  to  a  conclusion  on  this  head  by  the  frequent 
presence  of  Mark's  friend,  their  fellow-passenger  across  the  ocean  :  which 
suggested  to  him  that  in  regard  to  having  aided  her,  for  example,  they 
had  differed  very  much.  Somehow  he  coupled  Tom  Pinch  with  this 
train  of  reflection  ;  and  thinking  that  Tom  would  be  very  likely  to  have 
struck  up  the  same  sort  of  acquaintance  under  similar  circumstances, 
began  to  think  in  what  respects  two  people  so  extremely  different  were 
like  each  other,  and  were  unlike  him.  At  first  sight  there  was  nothing- 
very  distressing  in  these  meditations,  but  they  did  undoubtedly  distress 
him  for  all  that. 


394  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Martin's  nature  was  a  frank  and  generous  one  ;  but  he  liad  been 
bred  up  in  liis  grandfather's  house ;  and  it  will  usually  be  found,  that 
the  meaner  domestic  vices  propagate  themselves  to  be  their  own  antago- 
nists. Selfishness  does  this  especially;  so  do  suspicion,  cunning,  stealth, 
and  covetous  propensities.  Martin  had  unconsciously  reasoned  as  a 
child,  "  My  guardian  takes  so  much  thought  of  ^himself,  that  unless 
I  do  the  like  by  77i?/se[i]  I  shall  be  forgotten."  So  he  had  grown 
selfish. 

But  he  had  never  known  it.  If  any  one  had  taxed  him  with  the 
vice,  he  would  have  indignantly  repelled  the  accusation,  and  conceived 
himself  unworthily  aspersed.  He  never  would  have  known  it,  but  that 
being  newly  risen  from  a  bed  of  dangerous  sickness,  to  w^atch  by  such 
another  couch,  he  felt  how  nearly  Self  had  dropped  into  the  grave,  and 
what  a  poor,  dependent,  miserable  thing  it  was. 

It  was  natural  for  him  to  reflect — he  had  months  to  do  it  in — upon 
his  own  escape,  and  Mark's  extremity.  This  led  him  to  consider  which 
of  them  could  be  the  better  spared,  and  w^iy  ■?  Then  the  curtain  slowly 
rose  a  very  little  way ;  and  Self,  Self,  Self,  was  shown  below. 

He  asked  himself,  besides,  when  dreading  Mark's  decease  (as  all  men 
do  and  must,  at  such  a  time),  whether  he  had  done  his  duty  by  him,  and 
had  deserved  and  made  a  good  response  to  his  fidelity  and  zeal.  No. 
Short  as  their  companionship  had  been,  he  felt  in  many,  many  instances, 
that  there  was  blame  against  himself;  and  still  inquiring  why,  the 
curtain  slowly  rose  a  little  more,  and  Self,  Self,  Self,  dilated  on  the  scene. 

It  was  long  before  he  fixed  the  knowledge  of  himself  so  firmly  in  his 
mind  that  he  could  thoroughly  discern  the  truth  ;  but  in  the  hideous 
solitude  of  that  most  hideous  j)lace,  with  Hope  so  far  removed.  Ambition 
quenched,  and  Death  beside  him  rattling  at  the  very  door,  reflection 
came,  as  in  a  plague-beleaguered  town  ;  and  so  he  felt  and  knew  the 
failing  of  his  life,  and  saw  distinctly  w^hat  an  ugly  spot  it  was. 

Eden  was  a  hard  school  to  learn  so  hard  a  lesson  in  ;  but  there  were 
teachers  in  the  swamp  and  thicket,  and  the  pestilential  air,  who  had  a 
searching  method  of  their  own. 

He  made  a  solemn  resolution  that  when  his  strength  returned  he 
would  not  dispute  the  point  or  resist  the  conviction,  but  would  look 
upon  it  as  an  established  fact,  that  selfishness  was  in  his  breast,  and 
must  be  rooted  out.  He  was  so  doubtful  (and  wdth  justice)  of  his  own 
character,  that  he  determined  not  to  say  one  word  of  vain  regret  or  good 
resolve  to  Mark,  but  steadily  to  keep  his  purpose  before  his  own  eyes 
solely  :  and  there  was  not  a  jot  of  pride  in  this;  nothing  but  humility  and 
stedfastness  :  the  best  armour  he  could  wear.  So  low  had  Eden  brought 
him  down.     So  high  had  Eden  raised  him  up. 

After  a  long  and  lingering  illness  (in  certain  forlorn  stages  of  w^hich, 
when  too  far  gone  to  speak,  he  had  feebly  written  "jolly  !"  on  a  slate), 
Mark  showed  some  symptoms  of  returning  health.  They  came,  and 
went,  and  flickered  for  a  time  ;  but  he  began  to  mend  at  last  decidedly  ; 
and  after  that,  continued  to  improve  from  day  to  day. 

As  soon  as  he  w^as  well  enough  to  talk  without  fatigue,  Martin  con- 
sulted him  upon  a  project  he  had  in  his  mind,  and  which  a  few  months 


T.IARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  395 

back  he  would  have  carried  into  execution  without  troubling  anybody's 
head  but  his  own. 

"  Ours  is  a  desperate  case,"  said  Martin.  "  Plainly.  The  place  is 
deserted  ;  its  failure  must  have  become  known ;  and  selling  what  we 
have  bought  to  any  one,  for  anything,  is  hopeless,  even  if  it  were  honest. 
We  left  home  on  a  mad  enterprise,  and  have  failed.  The  only  hope  left 
us  :  the  only  one  end  for  which  we  have  now  to  try,  is  to  quit  this 
settlement  for  ever,  and  get  back  to  England.  Any  how  !  by  any 
means  !    Only  to  get  back  there,  Mark." 

"  That 's  all.  Sir,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley,  with  a  significant  stress  upon 
the  words  :  "  only  that  ! " 

"  Now,  upon  this  side  of  the  water,"  said  Martin,  "  we  have  but  one 
friend  who  can  help  us,  and  that  is  Mr.  Bevan." 

"  I  thought  of  him  when  you  was  ill,"  said  Mark. 

"  But  for  the  time  that  would  be  lost,  I  would  even  write  to  my 
grandfather,"  Martin  went  on  to  say,  "  and  implore  him  for  money  to 
free  us  from  this  trap  into  which  we  were  so  cruelly  decoyed.  Shall  I 
try  Mr.  Bevan  first  ?" 

"  He  's  a  very  pleasant  sort  of  a  gentleman,"  said  Mark.    "  I  think  so." 

"  The  few  goods  we  bought  here,  and  in  which  we  spent  our  money, 
would  produce  something  if  sold,"  resumed  Martin;  "  and  whatever  they 
realise  shall  be  paid  him  instantly.     But  they  can't  be  sold  here." 

"  There  's  nobody  but  corpses  to  buy  'em,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  shaking 
his  head  with  a  rueful  air,   "  and  pigs." 

"  Shall  I  tell  him  so,  and  only  ask  him  for  money  enough  to  enable 
us  by  the  cheapest  means  to  reach  New  York,  or  any  port  from  which 
we  may  hope  to  get  a  passage  home,  by  serving  in  any  capacity  1  Ex- 
plaining to  him  at  the  same  time  how  I  am  connected,  and  that  I  will 
endeavour  to  repay  him,  even  through  my  grandfather,  immediately  on 
our  arrival  in  England  1 " 

"  AVhy  to  be  sure,"  said  Mark  :  "  he  can  only  say  no,  and  he  may  say 
yes.     If  you  don't  mind  trying  him,  Sir — " 

"  ^lind  !"  exclaimed  Martin.  "  I  am  to  blame  for  coming  here,  and 
I  would  do  anything  to  get  away.  I  grieve  to  think  of  the  past.  If  I 
had  taken  your  opinion  sooner,  Mark,  we  never  should  have  been  here,  I 
am  certain," 

Mr.  Tapley  was  very  much  surprised  at  this  admission,  but  protested, 
with  great  vehemence,  that  they  would  have  been  there  all  the  same  ; 
and  that  he  had  set  his  heart  upon  coming  to  Eden,  from  the  first  word 
he  had  ever  heard  of  it. 

Martin  then  read  him  a  letter  to  Mr.  Bevan,  which  he  had  already 
prepared.  It  was  frankly  and  ingenuously  written,  and  described  their 
situation  without  the  least  concealment ;  plainly  stated  the  miseries  they 
had  undergone  ;  and  preferred  their  request  in  modest  but  straight- 
forward terms.  Mark  highly  commended  it ;  and  they  determined  to 
despatch  it  by  the  next  steam-boat  going  the  right  way,  that  might  call 
to  take  in  wood  at  Eden, — where  there  was  plenty  of  wood  to  spare.  Not 
knowing  how  to  address  Mr.  Bevan  at  his  own  place  of  abode,  Martin 
superscribed  it  to  the  care  of  the  memorable  Mr,  Norris  of  New  York, 


396  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

and  wrote  upon  tlie  cover  an  entreaty  that  it  miglit  be  forwarded  without 
delay. 

More  than  a  week  elapsed  before  a  boat  appeared ;  but  at  length  the}'- 
were  awakened  very  early  one  morning  by  the  high-pressure  snorting  of 
the  "  Esau  Slodge  : "  named  after  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  in 
the  country,  who  had  been  very  eminent  somewhere.  Hurrying  down  to 
the  landing-place,  they  got  it  safe  on  board  ;  and  waiting  anxiously  to 
see  the  boat  depart,  stopped  up  the  gangway  :  an  instance  of  neglect 
which  caused  the  "  Capting  "  of  the  Esau  Slodge  to  "  wish  he  might  be 
sifted  fine  as  flour,  and  whittled  small  as  chips  ;  that  if  they  didn't  come 
off  that  there  fixing,  right  smart  too,  he'd  spill  'em  in  the  drink  :" 
whereby  the  Capting  metaphorically  said  he  'd  throw  them  in  the  river. 

They  were  not  likely  to  receive  an  answer  for  eight  or  ten  weeks  at 
the  earliest.  In  the  meantime  they  devoted  such  strength  as  they  had, 
to  the  attempted  improvement  of  their  land ;  to  clearing  some  of  it,  and 
preparing  it  for  useful  purposes.  Monstrously  defective  as  their  farming 
was,  still  it  was  better  than  their  neighbours' ;  for  Mark  had  some  prac- 
tical knowledge  of  such  matters,  and  Martin  learned  of  him  ;  whereas 
the  other  settlers  who  remained  upon  the  putrid  swamp  (a  mere  handful, 
and  those  withered  by  disease),  appeared  to  have  wandered  there  with 
the  idea  that  husbandry  was  the  natural  gift  of  all  mankind.  They 
helped  each  other  after  their  own  manner  in  these  struggles,  and  in  all 
others ;  but  they  worked  as  hopelessly  and  sadly  as  a  gang  of  convicts  in 
a  penal  settlement. 

Often  at  night  when  Mark  and  Martin  were  alone,  and  lying  down 
to  sleep,  they  spoke  of  home,  familiar  places,  houses,  roads,  and  people 
whom  they  knew  ;  sometimes  in  the  lively  hope  of  seeing  them  again, 
and  sometimes  with  a  sorrowful  tranquillity,  as  if  that  hope  were  dead. 
It  was  a  source  of  great  amazement  to  Mark  Tapley  to  find,  pervading 
all  these  conversations,  a  singular  alteration  in  Martin. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  make  of  him,"  he  thought  one  night,  "  he 
ain't  what  I  supposed.  He  don't  think  of  himself  half  as  much.  I  '11 
try  him  again.     Asleep  Sir  *? " 

"  No,  Mark." 

"  Thinking  of  home  Sir  1 " 

"  Yes,  Mark." 

"  So  was  I  Sir.  I  was  wonderino;  how  Mi\  Pinch  and  Mr.  Pecksniff 
gets  on  now." 

"  Poor  Tom  ! "  said  Martin,  thoughtfully. 

"  Weak-minded  man  Sir,"  observed  Mr.  Tapley.  "  Plays  the  organ 
for  nothing  Sir.     Takes  no  care  of  himself  ?  " 

"  I  wish  he  took  a  little  more,  indeed,"  said  Martin.  "  Though  I  don't 
know  why  I  should.     We  should  n't  like  him  half  as  well,  perhaps." 

"  He  gets  put  upon  Sir,"  hinted  Mark. 

"  Yes,"  said  Martin,  after  a  short  silence.     "  I  know  that,  Mark." 

He  spoke  so  regretfully,  that  his  partner  abandoned  the  theme,  and 
was  silent  for  a  short  time,  until  he  had  thought  of  another. 

"  Ah,  Sir  !  "  said  Mark,  with  a  sigh.  "  Dear  me  !  You  've^ventured 
a  good  deal  for  a  young  lady's  love  ! " 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  397 

"  I  tell  you  what.  I  'm  not  so  sure  of  tliat,  Mark,"  was  the  reply  : 
so  hastily  and  energetically  spoken,  that  Martin  sat  up  in  his  bed  to 
give  it.  "  I  begin  to  be  far  from  clear  upon  it.  You  may  depend  upon 
it,  she  is  very  unhappy.  She  has  sacrificed  her  peace  of  mind  ;  she  has 
endangered  her  interests  very  much  ;  she  can't  run  away  from  those 
who  are  jealous  of  her,  and  opposed  to  her,  as  I  have  done.  She  has  to 
endure,  Mark  :  to  endure  without  the  possibility  of  action,  poor  girl  !  I 
begin  to  think  she  has  more  to  bear  than  ever  I  have  had.  Upon  my 
soul  I  do  ! " 

Mr.  Tapley  opened  his  eyes  wide,  in  the  dark  ;  but  did  not  interrupt. 

"  And  I  '11  tell  you  a  secret,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  "  since  we  are  upon 
this  subject.     That  ring — " 
.    "  Which  ring.  Sir  ?  "  Mark  inquired  :  opening  his  eyes  still  wider. 

"  That  ring  she  gave  me  when  we  parted,  Mark.  She  bought  it ; 
bought  it ;  knowing  I  was  poor  and  proud  (Heaven  help  me  !  Proud  !) 
and  wanted  money." 

"  Who  says  so.  Sir  ?  "  asked  Mark. 

"  I  say  so.  I  know  it.  I  thought  of  it,  my  good  fellow,  hundreds  of 
times,  while  you  were  lying  ill.  And  like  a  beast,  I  took  it  from  her 
hand,  and  wore  it  on  my  own,  and  never  dreamed  of  this  even  at  the 
moment  when  I  parted  with  it,  when  some  faint  glimmering  of  the 
truth  might  surely  have  possessed  me  !  But  it  's  late,"  said  Martin, 
checking  himself,  "  and  you  are  weak  and  tired,  I  know.  You  only 
talk  to  cheer  me  up.     Good  night  !     God  bless  you,  Mark  ! " 

"  God  bless  you.  Sir !  But  I  'm  reg'larly  defrauded,"  thought  Mr. 
Tapley,  turning  round,  with  a  happy  face.  "  It 's  a  swindle.  I  never 
entered  for  this  sort  of  service.  There'll  be  no  credit  in  being  jolly 
with  Mm  !  " 

The  time  wore  on,  and  other  steam-boats  coming  from  the  point  on 
which  their  hopes  were  fixed,  arrived  to  take  in  wood ;  but  still  no 
answer  to  the  letter.  Eain,  heat,  foul  slime,  and  noxious  vapour, 
with  all  the  ills  and  filthy  things  they  bred,  prevailed.  The  earth,  the 
air,  the  vegetation,  and  the  water  that  they  drank,  all  teemed  with 
deadly  properties.  Their  fellow-passenger  had  lost  two  children  long 
before  ;  and  buried  now  her  last.  Such  things  are  much  too  common 
to  be  widely  known  or  cared  for.  Smart  citizens  grow  rich,  and 
friendless  victims  smart  and  die,  and  are  forgotten.     That  is  all. 

At  last,  a  boat  came  panting  up  the  ugly  river,  and  stopped  at  Eden. 
Mark  was  waiting  at  the  wood  hut,  when  it  came,  and  had  a  letter 
handed  to  him  from  on  board.  He  bore  it  ofi"  to  Martin.  They  looked 
at  one  another,  trembling. 

"  It  feels  heavy,"  faltered  Martin.  And  opening  it,  a  little  roll  of 
dollar-notes  fell  out  upon  the  ground. 

What  either  of  them  said,  or  did,  or  felt,  at  first,  neither  of  them 
knew.  All  Mark  could  ever  tell  was,  that  he  was  at  the  river's  bank 
again  out  of  breath,  before  the  boat  had  gone,  inquiring  when  it  would 
retrace  its  track,  and  put  in  there. 

The  answer  was,  in  ten  or  twelve  days :  notwithstanding  which,  they 
began  to  get  their  goods  together    and  to  tie  them  up,  that  very  night. 


398  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

When  this  stage  of  excitement  was  passed,  each  of  them  believed  (they 
found  this  out,  in  talking  of  it  afterwards)  that  he  would  surely  die 
before  the  boat  returned. 

They  lived,  however,  and  it  came,  after  the  lapse  of  three  long 
crawling  weeks.  At  sunrise,  on  an  autumn  day,  they  stood  upon  her 
deck. 

"  Courage  !  We  shall  meet  again  ! "  cried  Martin,  waving  his  hand  to 
two  thin  figures  on  the  bank.     "  In  the  old  world  !  " 

"  Or  in  the  next  one,"  added  Mark  below  his  breath.  "  To  see  them 
standing  side  by  side,  so  quiet,  is  a'most  the  worst  of  all  !  " 

They  looked  at  one  another,  as  the  vessel  moved  away,  and  then 
looked  backward  at  the  spot  from  which  it  hurried  fast.  The  log- 
house,  with  the  open  door,  and  drooping  trees  about  it ;  the  stagnant 
morning  mist,  and  red  sun,  dimly  seen  beyond  ;  the  vapour  rising  up 
from  land  and  river ;  the  quick  stream  making  the  loathsome  banks  it 
washed,  more  flat  and  dull  :  how  often  they  returned  in  dreams  !  How 
often  it  was  happiness  to  wake,  and  find  them  Shadows  that  had  vanished ! 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


IN    WHICH    THE    TRAVELLERS    MOVE    HOMEWARD,    AND    ENCOUNTER    SOME 
DISTINGUISHED    CHARACTERS    UPON    THE    WAY. 

Among  the  passengers  on  board  the  steam-boat,  there  was  a  faint 
gentleman  sitting  on  a  low  camp-stool,  with  his  legs  on  a  high  barrel  of 
flour,  as  if  he  were  looking  at  the  prospect  with  his  ankles ;  who 
attracted  their  attention  speedily. 

He  had  straight  black  hair,  parted  up  the  middle  of  his  head,  and 
hanging  down  upon  his  coat ;  a  little  fringe  of  hair  upon  his  chin  ; 
wore  no  neckcloth  ;  a  white  hat ;  a  suit  of  black,  long  in  the  sleeves, 
and  short  in  the  legs  ;  soiled  brown  stockings,  and  laced  shoes.  His 
complexion,  naturally  muddy,  was  rendered  muddier  by  too  strict  an 
economy  of  soap  and  water ;  and  the  same  observation  will  apply  to  the 
washable  part  of  his  attire,  which  he  might  have  changed  with  comfort 
to  himself,  and  gratification  to  his  friends.  He  was  about  five-and-thirty ; 
was  crushed  and  jammed  up  in  a  heap,  under  the  shade  of  a  large  green 
cotton  umbrella ;  and  ruminated  over  his  tobacco-plug  like  a  cow. 

He  was  not  singular,  to  be  sure,  in  these  respects ;  for  every  gentleman 
on  board  appeared  to  have  had  a  difference  with  his  laundress,  and  to 
have  left  off  washing  himself  in  early  youth.  Every  gentleman,  too,  was 
perfectly  stopped  up  with  tight  plugging,  and  was  dislocated  in  the 
greater  part  of  his  joints.  But  about  this  gentleman  there  was  a  pecu- 
liar air  of  sagacity  and  wisdom,  which  convinced  Martin  that  he  was  no 
common  character  ;  and  this  turned  out  to  be  the  case. 

"  How  do  you  do.  Sir  ?"  said  a  voice  in  Martin's  ear. 

"How  do  you  do.  Sir?"  said  Martin. 

It  was  a  tall  thin  gentleman  who  spoke  to  him,  with  a  carpet-cap  on^ 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  399 

and  a  long  loose  coat  of  green  baize,  ornamented  about  the  pockets  with 
black  velvet. 

"  You  air  from  Europe,  Sir  ?" 

"  I  am,"  said  Martin. 

"  You  air  fortunate,  Sir." 

Martin  thought  so  too  :  but  he  soon  discovered  that  the  gentleman 
and  he  attached  different  meanings  to  this  remark. 

"  You  air  fortunate.  Sir,  in  having  an  opportunity  of  beholding  our 
Elijah  Pogram,  Sir." 

"Your  Elijahpogram  !"  said  Martin,  thinking  it  was  all  one  word, 
and  a  building  of  some  sort. 

'•'  Yes,  Sir." 

Martin  tried  to  look  as  if  he  understood  him,  but  he  could  n't  make 
it  out. 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  repeated  the  gentleman.  "Our  Elijah  Pogram,  Sir,  is,  at 
this  minute,  identically  settin'  by  the  en-gine  biler." 

The  gentleman  under  the  umbrella  put  his  right  forefinger  to  his 
eyebrow,  as  if  he  were  revolving  schemes  of  state. 

"  That  is  Elijah  Pogram,  is  it  V  said  Martin. 

"  Yes,  Sir,"  replied  the  other.     "  That  is  Elijah  Pogram." 

"  Dear  me  !"  said  Martin.  "  I  am  astonished."  But  he  had  not  the 
least  idea  who  this  Elijah  Pogram  was  ;  having  never  heard  the  name 
in  all  his  life. 

"  If  the  biler  of  this  vessel  was  Toe  bust,  Sir,"  said  his  new  acquaint- 
ance, "  and  Toe  bust  now,  this  would  be  a  fesTival  day  in  the  calendar  of 
despotism  ;  pretty  nigh  equallin',  Sir,  in  its  eifects  upon  the  human 
race,  our  Fourth  of  glorious  July.  Yes,  Sir,  that  is  the  Honourable 
Elijah  Pogram,  Member  of  Congress  ;  one  of  the  master-minds  of  our 
country.  Sir.     There  is  a  brow,  Sir,  there  !" 

"  Quite  remarkable,"  said  Martin. 

"  Yes,  Sir.  Our  ovm  immortal  Chiggle,  Sir,'  is  said  to  have  observed, 
when  he  made  the  celebrated  Pogram  statter  in  marble,  which  rose  so 
much  con-test  and  preju-dice  in  Europe,  that  the  brow  was  more  than 
mortal.  This  was  before  the  Pogram  Defiance,  and  was,  therefore,  a 
pre-diction,  cruel  smart." 

"  What  is  the  Pogram  Defiance?"  asked  Martin,  thinking,  perhaps, 
it  was  the  sign  of  a  public-house. 

"  An  o-ration,  Sir,"  returned  his  friend. 

"  Oh  !  to  be  sure,"  cried  Martin.  "  What  am  I  thinking  of !  It 
defied—" 

"  It  defied  the  world,  Sir,"  said  the  other  gravely.  "  Defied  the 
world  in  genral  to  com-pete  with  our  country  upon  any  hook  ;  and 
devellop'd  our  internal  resources  for  making  war  upon  the  universal 
airth.     You  would  like  to  know  Elijah  Pogram,  Sir  ?" 

"  If  you  please,"  said  Martin. 

"  Mr.  Pogram,"  said  the  stranger — Mr.  Pogram  having  overheard 
every  word  of  the  dialogue — "  this  is  a  gentleman  from  Europe  Sir  ; 
from  England  Sir.  But  gen'rous  ene-mies  may  meet  upon  the  neutral 
sile  of  private  life,  I  think." 


400  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

The  languid  Mr.  Pogram  sliook  hands  with  Martin,  like  a  clock-work 
figure  that  was  just  running  down.  But  he  made  amends  by  chewing- 
like  one  that  was  just  wound  up. 

"  Mr.  Pogram,"  said  the  introducer,  "  is  a  public  servant.  Sir.  When 
Congress  is  recessed,  he  makes  himself  acquainted  with  those  free  United 
States,  of  which  he  is  the  gifted  son." 

It  occurred  to  Martin,  that  if  the  Honourable  Elijah  Pogram  had 
staid  at  home,  and  sent  his  shoes  upon  a  tour,  they  would  have  answered 
the  same  purpose ;  for  they  were  the  only  part  of  him  in  a  situation  to 
see  anything. 

In  course  of  time,  however,  Mr.  Pogram  rose ;  and  having  ejected 
certain  plugging  consequences  which  would  have  impeded  his  articula- 
tion, took  up  a  position  where  there  was  something  to  lean  against,  and 
began  to  talk  to  Martin  :  shading  himself  with  the  green  umbrella  all 
the  time. 

As  he  began  with  the  words,  "  How  do  you  like — ? "  Martin  took  him 
up,  and  said  : 

"  The  country  I  presume  ? " 

"  Yes  Sir/'  said  Elijah  Pogram.  A  knot  of  passengers  gathered 
round  to  hear  what  followed  ;  and  Martin  heard  his  friend  say,  as  he 
whispered  to  another  friend,  and  rubbed  his  hands,  "  Pogram  will 
smash  him  into  sky-blue  fits,  I  know  !  " 

"  Why,"  said  Martin,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  ^'  I  have  learned 
vj  experience,  that  you  take  an  unfair  advantage  of  a  stranger,  when 
you  ask  that  question.  You  don't  mean  it  to  be  answered,  except  in 
one  way.  Now,  I  don't  choose  to  answer  it  in  that  way,  for  I  cannot 
honestly  answer  it  in  that  way.  And  therefore,  I  would  rather  not 
answer  it  at  all." 

But  Mr.  Pogram  was  going  to  make  a  great  speech  in  the  next  session 
about  foreign  relations,  and  was  going  to  write  strong  articles  on  the 
subject ;  and  as  he  greatly  favoured  the  free  and  independent  custom 
(a  very  harmless  and  agreeable  one)  of  procuring  information  of  any 
sort  in  any  kind  of  confidence,  and  afterwards  perverting  it  publicly  in 
any  manner  that  happened  to  suit  him,  he  had  determined  to  get  at 
Martin's  opinions  somehow  or  other.  Eor,  if  he  could  have  got  nothing- 
out  of  him,  he  would  have  had  to  invent  it  for  him,  and  that  would 
have  been  laborious.  He  made  a  mental  note  of  his  answer,  and  went 
in  again. 

"  You  are  from  Eden  Sir  1     How  did  you  like  Eden  1  " 

Martin  said  what  he  thought  of  that  part  of  the  country,  in  pretty 
strong  terms. 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Pogram,  looking  round  upon  the  group,  "  this 
hatred  of  our  country,  and  her  Institutions  !  This  national  antipathy 
is  deeply  rooted  in  the  British  mind  !  " 

"  Good  Heaven,  Sir  ! "  cried  Martin.  "  Is  the  Eden  Land  Corpora- 
tion, with  Mr.  Scadder  at  its  head  ;  and  all  the  misery  it  has  worked, 
at  its  door  ;  an  Institution  of  America  ?  A  part  of  any  form  of  govern- 
ment that  ever  was  known  or  heard  of  ? " 

"  I  con-sider  the  cause   of  this  to  be,"  said  Pogram,  looking  round 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  401 

again,  and  taking  himself  up  where  Martin  had  interrupted  him,  "  partly 
jealousy  and  preju-dice,  and  partly  the  nat'ral  unfitness  of  the  British 
people  to  appreciate  the  ex-alted  Institutions  of  our  native  land.  I 
expect  Sir,"  turning  to  Martin  again,  "  that  a  gentleman  named  Chollop 
happened  in  upon  you  during  your  lo-cation  in  tlie  town  of  Eden  1  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Martin  ;  "  but  my  friend  can  answer  this  better 
than  I  can,  for  I  was  very  ill  at  the  time.  Mark  !  the  gentleman  is 
speaking  of  Mr.  Chollop." 

"  Oh.     Yes  Sir.     Yes.     /  see  him,"  observed  Mark. 

"  A  splendid  example  of  our  na-tive  raw  material,  Sir  ?  "  said  Pogram, 
interrogatively. 

"  Indeed  Sir  ! "  cried  Mark. 

The  Honourable  Elijah  Pogram  glanced  at  his  friends  as  though  he 
would  have  said,  "  Observe  this  !  See  what  follows  !  "  and  they  ren- 
dered tribute  to  the  Pogram  genius,  by  a  gentle  murmur. 

"Our  fellow-countryman  is  a  model  of  a  man,  quite  fresh  from  Natur's 
mould  !"  said  Pogram,  with  enthusiasm.  "He  is  a  true-born  child  of 
this  free  hemisphere  !  Verdant  as  the  mountains  of  our  country  ; 
bright  and  flowing  as  our  mineral  Licks  ;  unspiled  by  withering  con- 
ventionalities as  air  our  broad  and  boundless  Perearers  !  Ptough  he  may 
be.  So  air  our  Barrs.  Wild  he  may  be.  So  air  our  BufFalers.  But 
he  is  a  child  of  Natur',  and  a  child  of  Freedom ;  and  his  boastful 
answer  to  the  Despot  and  the  Tyrant  is,  that  his  bright  home  is  in  the 
Settin  Sun." 

Part  of  this  referred  to  Chollop,  and  part  to  a  western  postmaster, 
who,  being  a  public  defaulter  not  very  long  before  (a  character  not 
at  all  uncommon  in  America),  had  been  removed  from  office  ;  and  on 
whose  behalf  Mr.  Pogram  (he  voted  for  Pogram)  had  thundered  the 
last  sentence  from  his  seat  in  Congress,  at  the  head  of  an  unpopular 
President.  It  told  brilliantly ;  for  the  bystanders  were  delighted,  and 
one  of  them  said  to  Martin,  "  that  he  guessed  he  had  now  seen  some- 
thing of  the  eloquential  aspect  of  our  country,  and  was  chawed  up  pritty 
small." 

Mr.  Pogram  waited  until  his  hearers  were  calm  again,  before  he  said 
to  Mark  : 

"  You  do  not  seem  to  coincide.  Sir?" 

"  Why,"  said  Mark,  "  I  did  n't  like  him  much  ;  and  that 's  the  truth. 
Sir.  I  thought  he  was  a  bully  ;  and  I  did  n't  admire  his  carryin'  them 
murderous  little  persuaders,  and  being  so  ready  to  use  'em." 

"It's  singler  1"  said  Pogram,  lifting  his  umbrella  high  enough  to 
look  all  round  from  under  it.  "  It 's  strange  !  You  observe  the  settled 
opposition  to  our  institutions  which  pervades  the  British  mind  !" 

"  What  an  extraordinary  people  you  are  !"  cried  Martin.  "  Are  Mr. 
Chollop  and  the  class  he  represents,  an  Institution  here  ?  Are  pistols 
with  revolving  barrels,  sword-sticks,  bowie  knives,  and  such  things, 
Institutions  on  which  you  pride  yourselves  1  Are  bloody  duels,  brutal 
combats,  savage  assaults,  shootings  down  and  stabbing  in  the  streets,  your 
Institutions !  Why,  I  shall  hear  next,  that  Dishonour  and  Fraud  are 
among  the  Institutions  of  the  great  republic  !" 

D   D 


402  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

The  moment  tlie  words  passed  his  lips,  the  Honourable  Elijah  Pogram 
looked  round  again. 

"This  morbid  hatred  of  our  Institutions,"  he  observed,  "is  quite  a 
study  for  the  phjschological  observer.  He 's  alludin  to  Repudiation 
now ! " 

"  Oh  !  You  may  make  anything  an  Institution  if  you  like,"  said 
Martin,  laughing,  "  and  I  confess  you  had  me  there,  for  you  certainly  have 
made  that,  one.  But  the  greater  part  of  these  things  are  one  Institution 
with  us,  and  we  call  it  by  the  generic  name  of  Old  Bailey  !" 

The  bell  being  rung  for  dinner  at  this  moment,  everybody  ran  away 
into  the  cabin,  whither  the  Honourable  Elijah  Pogram  lied  with  such 
precipitation  that  he  forgot  his  umbrella  was  up,  and  fixed  it  so  tightly 
in  the  cabin  door  that  it  could  neither  be  let  down  nor  got  out.  For  a 
minute  or  so  this  accident  created  a  perfect  rebellion  among  the  hungry 
passengers  behind,  who,  seeing  the  dishes  and  hearing  the  knives  and 
forks  at  work,  well  knew  what  would  happen  unless  they  got  there 
instantly,  and  were  nearly  mad  :  while  several  virtuous  citizens  at  the 
table  were  in  deadly  peril  of  choking  themselves  in  their  unnatural 
eiforts  to  get  rid  of  all  the  meat  before  these  others  came. 

They  carried  the  umbrella  by  storm,  however,  and  rushed  in  at  the 
breach.  The  Honourable  Elijah  Pogram  and  Martin  found  themselves, 
after  a  severe  struggle,  side  by  side,  as  they  might  have  come  together  in 
the  pit  of  a  London  theatre ;  and  for  four  whole  minutes  afterwards, 
Pogram  was  snapping  up  great  blocks  of  everything  he  could  get  hold 
of,  like  a  raven.  When  he  had  taken  this  unusually  protracted  dinner, 
he  began  to  talk  to  Martin ;  and  begged  him  not  to  have  the  least 
delicacy  in  speaking  with  perfect  freedom  to  him,  for  he  was  a  calm 
philosopher.  Which  Martin  was  extremely  glad  to  hear ;  for  he  had 
begun  to  speculate  on  Elijah  being  a  disciple  of  that  other  school  of 
republican  philosophy,  whose  noble  sentiments  are  carved  with  knives 
upon  a  pupil's  body,  and  written,  not  with  pen  and  ink,  but  tar  and 
feathers. 

"What  do  you  think  of  my  countrymen  who  are  present,  Sir?" 
inquired  Elijah  Pogram. 

"  Oh  !  very  pleasant,"  said  Martin. 

They  were  a  very  pleasant  party.  No  man  had  spoken  a  word  ;  every 
one  had  been  intent,  as  usual,  on  his  own  private  gorging  ;  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  company  were  decidedly  dirty  feeders. 

The  Honourable  Elijah  Pogram  looked  at  Slartin  as  if  he  thought 
"  You  don 't  mean  that,  I  know  ! "  And  he  was  soon  confirmed  in  this 
opinion. 

Sitting  opposite  to  them  was  a  gentleman  in  a  high  state  of  tobacco,  who 
wore  quite  a  little  beard,  composed  of  the  overflowings  of  that  weed,  as 
they  had  dried  about  his  mouth  and  chin  :  so  common  an  ornament  that 
it  scarcely  attracted  Martin's  observation:  but  this  good  citizen, burning 
to  assert  his  equality  against  all  comers,  sucked  his  knife  for  some 
moments,  and  made  a  cut  with  it  at  the  butter,  just  as  Martin  was  in 
the  act  of  taking  some.  There  was  a  juicyness  about  the  deed  that 
might  have  sickened  a  scavenger. 


MAETIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  403 

When  Elijah  Pogram  (to  whom  this  was  an  every-day  incident)  saw 
that  Martin  put  the  plate  away,  and  took  no  butter,  he  was  quite 
delighted,  and  said  : 

"  Well  !  The  morbid  hatred  of  you  British  to  the  Institutions  of  our 
country,  is  as-TONishin  !" 

"  Upon  my  life  ! "  cried  Martin,  in  his  turn,  "  this  is  the  most  won- 
derful community  that  ever  existed.  A  man  deliberately  makes  a  hog 
of  himself,  and  thaf''s  an  Institution  !" 

"  We  have  no  time  to  ac-quire  forms,  Sir,"  said  Elijah  Pogram. 

"Acquire!"  cried  Martin.  "But  it's  not  a  question  of  acquiring 
anything.  It 's  a  question  of  losing  the  natural  politeness  of  a  savage, 
and  that  instinctive  good  breeding  which  admonishes  one  man  not  to 
offend  and  disgust  another.  Don't  you  think  that  man  over  the  way, 
for  instance,  naturally  knows  better,  but  considers  it  a  very  fine  and 
independent  thing  to  be  a  brute  in  small  matters  V 

"  He  is  a  na-tive  of  our  country,  and  is  nat'rally  bright  and  spry,  of 
course,"  said  Mr.  Pogram. 

"  Now,  observe  what  this  comes  to,  Mr.  Pogram,"  pursued  Martin. 
"  The  mass  of  your  countrymen  begin  by  stubbornly  neglecting  little 
social  observances,  which  have  nothing  to  do  with  gentility,  custom,  usage, 
government,  or  country,  but  are  acts  of  common,  decent,  natural,  human 
politeness.  You  abet  them  in  this,  by  resenting  all  attacks  upon  their 
social  offences  as  if  they  were  a  beautiful  national  feature.  From  disre- 
garding small  obligations  they  come  in  regular  course  to  disregard  great 
ones  ;  and  so  refuse  to  pay  their  debts.  What  they  may  do,  or  what 
they  may  refuse  to  do  next,  I  don't  know  ;  but  any  man  may  see  if  he 
will,  that  it  will  be  something  following  in  natural  succession,  and  a  part 
of  one  great  growth,  which  is  rotten  at  the  root." 

The  mind  of  Mr.  Pogram  was  too  philosophical  to  see  this ;  so  they 
went  on  deck  again,  where,  resuming  his  former  post,  he  chewed  until  he 
was  in  a  lethargic  state,  amounting  to  insensibility. 

After  a  weary  voyage  of  several  days,  they  came  again  to  that  same 
wharf  where  Mark  had  been  so  nearly  left  behind  on  the  night  of  start- 
ing for  Eden.  Captain  Kedgick,  the  landlord,  was  standing  there,  and 
was  greatly  surprised  to  see  them  coming  from  the  boat. 

"  Why,  what  the  'tarnal !"  cried  the  captain.  "  Well !  I  do  admire 
at  this,  I  do!" 

"  We  can  stay  at  your  house  until  to-morrow,  Captain,  I  suppose?" 
said  Martin. 

"  I  reckon  you  can  stay  there  for  a  twelvemonth  if  you  like,"  retorted 
Kedgick  coolly.     "  But  our  people  won't  best  like  your  coming  back." 

"  Won't  like  it.  Captain  Kedgick  !"  said  Martin. 

"  They  did  ex-pect  you  was  a-going  to  settle,"  Kedgick  answered,  as 
he  shook  his  head.     "  They  've  been  took  in,  you  can't  deny  1" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  cried  Martin. 

"  You  did  n't  ought  to  have  received  'em,"  said  the  captain.  "  No 
you  did  n't  ! " 

"  My  good  friend,"  returned  Martin,  "  did  I  want  to  receive  them  1 
Was  it  any  act  of  mine  ?     Did  n't  you  tell  me  they  would  rile  up,  and 

dd2 


404  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

that  I  should  be  flayed  like  a  wild  cat ;  and  threaten  all  kinds  of 
vengeance,  if  I  didn't  receive  them?" 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  returned  the  captain.  "  But  when  our 
people's  frills  is  out,  they  're  starched  up  pretty  stiff,  I  tell  you  ! " 

With  that,  he  fell  into  the  rear  to  walk  with  Mark,  while  Martin  and 
Elijah  Pogram  went  on  to  the  National. 

"  We've  come  back  alive,  you  see  !"said  Mark. 

"  It  ain't  the  thing  I  did  expect,"  the  captain  grumbled.  "  A  man 
ain't  got  no  right  to  be  a  public  man,  unless  he  meets  the  public  views. 
Our  fashionable  people  would  n't  have  attended  his  le-vee,  if  they  had 
know'd  it." 

Nothing  mollified  the  captain,  who  persisted  in  taking  it  very  ill  that 
they  had  not  both  died  in  Eden.  The  boarders  at  the  National  felt 
strongly  on  the  subject  too ;  but  it  happened  by  good  fortune  that  they 
had  not  much  time  to  think  about  this  grievance,  for  it  was  suddenly 
determined  to  pounce  upon  the  Honourable  Elijah  Pogram,  and  give 
Mm  a  le-vee  forthwith. 

As  the  general  evening  meal  of  the  house  was  over  before  the  arrival 
of  the  boat,  Martin,  Mark,  and  Pogram,  were  taking  tea  and  fixings  at 
the  public  table  by  themselves,  when  the  deputation  entered,  to  announce 
this  honour  :  consisting  of  six  gentlemen  boarders,  and  a  very  shrill  boy. 

"  Sir  !"  said  the  spokesman. 

"  Mr.  Pogram  !"  cried  the  shrill  boy. 

The  spokesman  thus  reminded  of  the  shrill  boy's  presence,  introduced 
him.  "  Doctor  Ginery  Dunkle,  Sir.  A  gentleman  of  great  poetical 
elements.  He  has  recently  jined  us  here,  Sir,  and  is  an  acquisition  to 
us.  Sir,  I  do  assure  you.  Yes,  Sir.  Mr.  Jodd,  Sir.  Mr.  Izzard,  Sir. 
Mr.  Julius  Bib,  Sir." 

"  Julius  Washington  Merryweather  Bib,"  said  the  gentleman  himself 
to  himself 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir.  Ex-cuse  me.  Mr.  Julius  Washington  Merry- 
weather  Bib,  Sir ;  a  gentleman  in  the  lumber  line,  Sir,  and  much 
esteemed.  Colonel  Groper,  Sir.  Pro-fessor  Piper,  Sir.  My  own  name. 
Sir,  is  Oscar  Buffum." 

Each  man  took  one  slide  forward  as  he  was  named  \  butted  at  the 
Honourable  Elijah  Pogram  with  his  head  j  shook  hands,  and  slid  back 
again.     The  introductions  being  completed,  the  spokesman  resumed. 

"Sir!" 

"Mr.  Pogram  !"  cried  the  shrill  boy. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  the  spokesman,  with  a  hopeless  look,  "  you  will  be 
so  good.  Doctor  Ginery  Dunkle,  as  to  charge  yourself  with  the  execution 
of  our  little  office,  Sir?" 

As  there  was  nothing  the  shrill  boy  desired  more,  he  immediately 
stepped  forward. 

"  Mr.  Pogram  !  Sir  !  A  handful  Of  your  fellow  citizens.  Sir,  hearing 
Of  your  arrival  at  the  National  Hotel ;  and  feeling  the  patriotic  character 
Of  your  public  services  j  wish,  Sir,  to  have  the  gratification  Of  beholding 
you  j  and  mixing  with  you.  Sir;  and  unbending  with  you.  Sir,  in  those 
moments  which — " 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  405 

"  Air,"  suggested  Buffum.  '^' 

"  Which  air  so  peculiarly  the  lot,  sir.  Of  our  great  and  happy  country. ' 

"  Hear  ! "  cried  Colonel  Groper,  in  a  loud  voice.  "  Good  !  Hear  him  ! 
Good  !" 

"  And  therefore.  Sir,"  pursued  the  Doctor,  "  they  request ;  as  A  mark 
Of  their  respect  j  the  honor  of  your  company  at  a  little  le-Vee,  Sir,  in 
the  ladies'  ordinary,  at  eight  o'clock." 

Mr.  Pogram  bowed,  and  said  : 

"  Fellow  countrymen  !" 

"  Good  !"  cried  the  Colonel.     "  Hear  him  !     Good  !" 

Mr.  Pogram  bowed  to  the  Colonel  individually,  and  then  resumed  : 

"  Your  approbation  of  My  labors  in  the  common  cause,  goes  to  My 
heart.  At  all  times  and  in  all  places  j  in  the  ladies'  ordinary.  My 
friends,  and  in  the  Battle  Field  " — 

"  Good,  very  good  !     Hear  him  !     Hear  him  !"  said  the  Colonel. 

"  The  name  Of  Pogram  will  be  proud  to  jine  you.  And  may  it,  My 
friends,  be  written  on  My  tomb,  '  He  was  a  member  of  the  Con-gress  of 
our  common  country,  and  was  ac-Tive  in  his  trust.'  " 

"  The  Com-mittee,  Sir,"  said  the  shrill  boy,  "  will  wait  upon  you  at 
five  minutes  afore  eight.     I  take  My  leave,  Sir  !' 

Mr.  Pogram  shook  hands  with  him,  and  everybody  else,  once  more ; 
and  when  they  came  back  again  at  five  minutes  before  eight,  they  said, 
one  by  one,  in  a  melancholy  voice,  "  How  do  you  do,  Sir  1"  and  shook 
hands  with  Mr.  Pogram  all  over  again,  as  if  he  had  been  abroad  for  a 
twelvemonth  in  the  meantime,  and  they  met,  now,  at  a  funeral. 

But  by  this  time  Mr.  Pogram  had  freshened  himself  up,  and  had 
composed  his  hair  and  features  after  the  Pogram  statue,  so  that  any  one 
with  half  an  eye  might  cry  out,  "  There  he  is  !  as  he  delivered  the 
Defiance  ! "  The  Committee  were  embellished  also ;  and  when  they 
entered  the  ladies'  ordinary  in  a  body,  there  was  much  clapping  of  hands 
from  ladies  and  gentlemen,  accompanied  by  cries  of  "  Pogram !  Pogram ! " 
and  some  standing  up  on  chairs  to  see  him. 

The  object  of  the  popular  caress  looked  round  the  room  as  he  walked 
up  it,  and  smiled  :  at  the  same  time  observing  to  the  shrill  boy,  that  he 
knew  something  of  the  beauty  of  the  daughters  of  their  common  country, 
but  had  never  seen  it  in  such  lustre  and  perfection  as  at  that  moment. 
Which  the  shrill  boy  put  in  the  paper  next  day  ;  to  Elijah  Pogram's  great 
surprise. 

"  We  will  re-quest  you.  Sir,  if  you  please,"  said  Buffum,  laying  hands 
on  Mr.  Pogram  as  if  he  were  taking  his  measure  for  a  coat,  "  to  stand  up 
with  your  back  agin  the  wall  right  in  the  furthest  corner,  that  there  may 
be  more  room  for  our  fellow  cit-izeus.  If  you  could  set  your  back  right 
slap  agin  that  curtain-peg,  Sir,  keepin  your  left  leg  everlastingly  behind 
the  stove,  we  should  be  fixed  quite  slick." 

Mr.  Pogram  did  as  he  was  told,  and  wedged  himself  into  such  a  little 
corner,  that  the  Pogram  statue  would'nt  have  known  him. 

The  entertainments  of  the  eveninsr  then  began.  Gentlemen  brought 
ladies  up,  and  brought  themselves  up,  and  brought  each  other  up  ;  and 
a;sked  Elijah  Pogram  what  he  thought  of  this  politica]  question,  and 


406  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

what  he  thought  of  that ;  and  looked  at  him,  and  looked  at  one  another,^ 
and  seemed  very  unhappy  indeed.  The  ladies  on  the  chairs  looked  at 
Elijah  Pogram  through  their  glasses,  and  said  audibly,  "  I  wish  he  'd 
speak.  Why  don't  he  speak.  Oh,  do  ask  him  to  speak  !"  And  Elijah 
Pogram  looked  sometimes  at  the  ladies  and  sometimes  elsewhere, 
delivering  senatorial  opinions,  as  he  was  asked  for  them.  But  the  great 
end  and  object  of  the  meeting  seemed  to  be,  not  to  let  Elijah  Pogram 
out  of  the  corner  on  any  account :  so  there  they  kept  him,  hard  and  fast. 

A  great  bustle  at  the  door,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  announced 
the  arrival  of  some  remarkable  person  ;  and  immediately  afterwards  an 
elderly  gentleman,  much  excited,  was  seen  to  precipitate  himself  upon 
the  crowd,  and  battle  his  way  towards  the  Honourable  Elijah  Pogram. 
Martih,  who  had  found  a  snug  place  of  observation  in  a  distant  corner, 
where  he  stood  with  Mark  beside  him  (for  he  did  not  so  often  forget 
him  now  as  formerly,  though  he  still  did  sometimes),  thought  he  knew 
this  gentleman,  but  had  no  doubt  of  it,  when  he  cried  as  loud  as  he 
could,  with  his  eyes  starting  out  of  his  head  : 

"  Sir,  Mrs.  Hominy  !" 

"  Lord  bless  that  woman,  Mark.     She  has  turned  up  again  !" 

"  Here  she  comes.  Sir,"  answered  Mr.  Tapley.  "  Pogram  knows  her. 
A  public  character  !  Always  got  her  eye  upon  her  country.  Sir  !  If 
that  there  lady's  husband  is  of  my  opinion,  what  a  jolly  old  gentleman 
he  must  be  !" 

A  lane  was  made  ;  and  Mrs.  Hominy,  with  the  aristocratic  stalk, 
the  pocket  handkerchief,  the  clasped  hands,  and  the  classical  cap,  came 
slowly  up  it,  in  a  procession  of  one.  Mr.  Pogram  testified  emotions 
of  delight  on  seeing  her,  and  a  general  hush  prevailed.  For  it  was  known 
that  when  a  woman  like  Mrs.  Hominy  encountered  a  man  like  Pogram^ 
something  interesting  must  be  said. 

Their  first  salutations  were  exchanged  in  a  voice  too  low  to  reach  the 
impatient  ears  of  the  throng  ;  but  they  soon  became  audible,  for  Mrs. 
Hominy  felt  her  position,  and  knew  what  was  expected  of  her. 

Mrs.  H.  was  hard  upon  him  at  first ;  and  put  him  through  a  rigid 
catechism,  in  reference  to  a  certain  vote  he  had  given,  which  she  had 
found  it  necessary,  as  the  mother  of  the  modern  Gracchi,  to  deprecate  in 
a  line  by  itself,  set  up  expressly  for  the  purpose  in  German  text.  But 
Mr.  Pogram  evading  it  by  a  well-timed  allusion  to  the  star-spangled 
banner,  which,  it  appeared,  had  the  remarkable  peculiarity  of  flouting 
the  breeze  whenever  it  was  hoisted  where  the  wind  blew,  she  forgave 
him.  They  now  enlarged  on  certain  questions  of  tariff,  commercial 
treaty,  boundary,  importation,  and  exportation,  with  great  effect.  And 
Mrs.  Hominy  not  only  talked,  as  the  saying  is,  like  a  book,  but  actually 
did  talk  her  own  books,  word  for  word. 

"  My  !  what  is  this  ?"  cried  Mrs.  Hominy,  opening  a  little  note 
which  was  handed  her  by  her  excited  gentleman-usher.  "  Do  tell !  oh,. 
well,  now  !  on'y  think  ! " 

And  then  she  read  aloud,  as  follows  : 

"  Two  literary  ladies  present  their  compliments  to  the  mother  of  the 
modern   Gracchi,   and   claim   her   kind  introduction,  as  their  talented 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  407 

countrywoman,  to  the  honourable  (and  distinguished)  Elijah  Pogram, 
whom  the  two  L.L.'s  have  often  contemplated  in  the  speaking  marble  of 
the  soul-subduing  Chiggle.  On  a  verbal  intimation  from  the  mother  of 
the  M.  Q.,  that  she  will  comply  with  the  request  of  the  two  L.L.'s,  they 
will  have  the  immediate  pleasure  of  joining  the  galaxy  assembled  to  do 
honour  to  the  patriotic  conduct  of  a  Pogram.  It  may  be  another  bond 
of  union  between  the  two  L.  L.'s  and  the  mother  of  the  M.  Gr.  to  observe, 
that  the  two  L.L.'s  are  Transcendental." 

Mrs.  Hominy  promptly  rose,  and  proceeded  to  the  door,  whence  she 
returned,  after  a  minute's  interval,  with  the  two  L.L.'s,  whom  she  led, 
through  the  lane  in  the  crowd,  with  all  that  stateliness  of  deportment 
which  was  so  remarkably  her  own,  up  to  the  great  Elijah  Pogram.  It 
was  (as  the  shrill  boy  cried  out  in  an  ecstacy)  quite  the  Last  Scene  from 
Coriolanus. 

One  of  the  L.L.'s  wore  a  brown  wig  of  uncommon  size.  Sticking  on 
the  forehead  of  the  other,  by  invisible  means,  was  a  massive  cameo,  in 
size  and  shape  like  the  raspberry  tart  which  is  ordinarily  sold  for  a 
penny,  representing  on  its  front,  the  capitol  at  Washington. 

"  Miss  Toppit,  and  Miss  Codger  ! "  said  Mrs.  Hominy. 

"  Codger'  s  the  lady  so  often  mentioned  in  the  English  newspapers, 
I  should  think.  Sir,"  whispered  Mark.  "  The  oldest  inhabitant,  as 
never  remembers  anything." 

"  To  be  presented  to  a  Pogram,"  said  Miss  Codger,  "  by  a  Hominy, 
indeed,  a  thrilling  moment  is  it  in  its  impressiveness  on  what  we  call 
our  feelings.  But  why  we  call  tliem  so,  or  why  impressed  they  are, 
or  if  impressed  they  are  at  all,  or  if  at  all  we  are,  or  if  there  really  is,  oh 
gasping  one  !  a  Pogram  or  a  Hominy,  or  any  active  principle,  to  which 
we  give  those  titles,  is  a  topic  Spirit  searching,  light  abandoned,  much 
too  vast  to  enter  on,  at  this  unlocked  for  crisis." 

"  Mind  and  matter,"  said  the  lady  in  the  wig,  "  glide  swift  into  the 
vortex  of  immensity.  Howls  the  sublime,  and  softly  sleeps  the  calm 
Ideal,  in  the  Avhispering  chambers  of  Imagination.  To  hear  it,  sweet 
it  is.  But  then,  outlaughs  the  stern  philosopher,  and  saith  to  the  Gro- 
tesque, '  What  ho  !  arrest  for  me  that  Agency.'  Go  bring  it  here  ! '  And 
so  the  vision  fadeth." 

After  this,  they  both  took  Mr.  Pogram  by  the  hand,  and  pressed  it 
to  their  lips,  as  a  patriotic  palm.  That  homage  paid,  the  mother  of  the 
modern  Gracchi  called  for  chairs,  and  the  three  literary  ladies  went  to 
work  in  earnest,  to  bring  poor  Pogram  out,  and  make  him  show  himself 
in  all  his  brilliant  colours. 

How  Pogram  got  out  of  his  depth  instantly,  and  how  the  three  L.L.'s 
were  never  in  theirs,  is  a  piece  of  history  not  worth  recording.  Suffice 
it,  that  being  all  four  out  of  their  depths,  and  all  unable  to  swim,  they 
splashed  up  words  in  all  directions,  and  floundered  about  famously.  On 
the  whole,  it  was  considered  to  have  been  the  severest  mental  exercise 
ever  heard  in  the  National  Hotel.  Tears  stood  in  the  shrill  boy's  eyes 
several  times  ;  and  the  whole  company  observed  that  their  heads  ached 
with  the  eifort — as  well  they  might. 

When  it  at  last  became  necessary  to  release  Elijah  Pogram  from  the 


408  1    LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES   OF 

corner,  and  the  Committee  saw  him  safely  back  again  to  the  next  room, 
they  were  fervent  in  their  admiration. 

"  Which,"  said  Mr.  Buifum,  "  must  have  vent,  or  it  will  bust.  Toe 
you,  Mr.  Pogram,  I  am  grateful.  Toe-wards  you,  Sir,  I  am  inspired 
with  lofty  veneration,  and  with  deep  e-mo-tion.  The  sentiment  Toe 
which  I  would  propose  to  give  ex-pression,  Sir,  is  this  :  '  May  you  ever 
be  as  firm,  Sir,  as  your  marble  statter  !  May  it  ever  be  as  great  a  terror 
Toe  its  ene-mies  as  you.'  " 

There  is  some  reason  to  suppose  that  it  was  rather  terrible  to  its 
friends  j  being  a  statue  of  the  Elevated  or  Goblin  School,  in  which  the 
Honourable  Elijah  Pogram  was  represented  as  in  a  very  high  wind,  with 
his  hair  all  standing  on  end,  and  his  nostrils  blown  wide  open.  But 
Mr.  Pogram  thanked  his  friend  and  countryman  for  the  aspiration  to 
which  he  had  given  utterance,  and  the  Committee,  after  another  solemn 
shaking  of  hands,  retired  to  bed,  except  the  Doctor ;  who  immediately 
repaired  to  the  newspaper-office,  and  there  wrote  a  short  poem  suggested 
by  the  events  of  the  evening,  beginning  with  fourteen  stars,  and  headed, 
"  A  Fragment.  Suggested  by  witnessing  the  Honourable  Elijah  Pogram 
engaged  in  a  philosophical  disputation  with  three  of  Columbia's 
fairest  daughters.     By  Doctor  Ginery  Dunkle.     Of  Troy." 

If  Pogram  was  as  glad  to  get  to  bed  as  Martin  was,  he  must  have  been 
well  rewarded  for  his  labours.  They  started  off  again  next  day  (Martin 
and  Mark  previously  disposing  of  their  goods  to  the  storekeepers  of 
whom  they  had  purchased  them,  for  anything  they  would  bring),  and 
were  fellow-travellers  to  within  a  short  distance  of  New  York.  When 
Pogram  was  about  to  leave  them  he  grew  thoughtful,  and  after  ponder- 
ing for  some  time,  took  Martin  aside. 

"  We  air  going  to  part.  Sir,"  said  Pogram. 

"  Pray  don't  distress  yourself,"  said  Martin  :  "we  must  bear  it." 

"  It  ain't  that.  Sir,"  returned  Pogram,  "  not  at  all.  But  I  should 
wish  you  to  accept  a  copy  of  My  oration." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Martin,  "  you  are  very  good.  I  shall  be  most 
happy." 

"  It  ain't  quite  that.  Sir,  neither,"  resumed  Pogram  :  "  air  you  bold 
enough  to  introduce  a  copy  into  your  country  1 " 

"  Certainly,"  said  Martin.     "  Why  not  1 " 

"  Its  sentiments  air  strong.  Sir,"  hinted  Pogram,  darkly. 

"  That  makes  no  difference,"  said  Martin.  "  I  '11  take  a  dozen  if  you 
like." 

"  No,  Sir,"  retorted  Pogram.  "  Not  A  dozen.  That  is  more  than  I 
require.  If  you  are  content  to  run  the  hazard.  Sir,  here  is  one  for  your 
Lord  Chancellor,"  producing  it,  "  and  one  for  Your  principal  Secretary 
of  State.  I  should  wish  them  to  see  it.  Sir,  as  expressing  what  my 
opinions  air.  That  they  may  not  plead  ignorance  at  a  future  time.  But 
don't  get  into  danger.  Sir,  on  my  account ! " 

"  There  is  not  the  least  danger,  I  assure  you,"  said  Martin.  So  he 
put  the  pamphlets  in  his  pocket,  and  they  parted. 

Mr.  Bevan  had  written  in  his  letter  that  at  a  certain  time,  which 
fell  out  happily  just  then,  he  would  be  at  a  certain  hotel  in  the  city, 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT  409 

anxiously  expecting  to  see  them.  To  this  place  they  repaired  without  a 
moment's  delay.  They  had  the  satisfaction  of  finding  him  within  ; 
and  of  being  received,  by  their  good  friend,  with  his  own  warmth  and 
heartiness. 

"  I  am  truly  sorry  and  ashamed,"  said  Martin,  "to  have  begged  of  you. 
But  look  at  us.     See  what  we  are,  and  judge  to  what  we  are  reduced  ! " 

"  So  far  from  claiming  to  have  done  you  any  service,"  returned  the 
other,  "  I  reproach  myself  with  having  been,  unwittingly,  the  original 
cause  of  your  misfortunes.  I  no  more  supposed  you  would  go  to  Eden 
on  such  representations  as  you  received;  or,  indeed,  that  you  would  do 
anything  but  be  dispossessed,  by  the  readiest  means,  of  your  idea  that 
fortunes  were  so  easily  made  here ;  than  I  thought  of  going  to  Eden 
myself." 

"  The  fact  is,  I  closed  with  the  thing  in  a  mad  and  sanguine  manner," 
said  Martin,  "  and  the  less  said  about  it  the  better  for  me.  Mark, 
here,  hadn't  a  voice  in  the  matter." 

"  Well !  But  he  hadn't  a  voice  in  any  other  matter,  had  he  1 "  returned 
Mr.  Bevan  :  laughing  with  an  air  that  showed  his  understanding  of 
Mark  and  Martin  too. 

"  Not  a  very  powerful  one,  I  am  afraid,"  said  Martin  with  a  blush. 
"  But  live  and  learn,  Mr.  Bevan  !  Nearly  die  and  learn  :  and  we  learn 
the  quicker." 

"  Now,"  said  their  friend,  '•  about  your  plans.  You  mean  to  return 
home  at  once  1 " 

"  Oh,  I  think  so,"  returned  Martin  hastily,  for  he  turned  pale  at  the 
thought  of  any  other  suggestion.     "  That  is  your  opinion  too,  I  hope?  " 

"  Unquestionably.  For  I  don't  know  why  you  ever  came  here  ;  though 
it's  not  such  an  unusual  case,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  we  need  go  any 
further  into  that.  You  don't  know  that  the  ship  in  which  you  came 
over,  with  our  friend  General  Eladdock,  is  in  Port ;  of  course  ?  " 

"  Indeed  !  "  said  Martin. 

"  Yes.     And  is  advertised  to  sail  to-morrow." 

This  was  tempting  news,  but  tantalising  too  :  for  Martin  knew  that 
his  getting  any  employment  on  board  a  ship  of  that  class,  was  hopeless. 
The  money  in  his  pocket  would  not  pay  one-fourth  of  the  sum  he  had 
already  borrowed,  and  if  it  had  been  enough  for  their  passage-money, 
he  could  hardly  have  resolved  to  spend  it.  He  explained  this  to  Mr. 
Bevan,  and  stated  what  their  project  was. 

"  Why,  that 's  as  wild  as  Eden  every  bit,"  returned  his  friend.  "  You 
must  take  your  passage  like  a  Christian ;  at  least,  as  like  a  Christian  as 
a  fore-cabin  passenger  can;  and  owe  me  a  few  more  dollars  than  you 
intend.  If  Mark  will  go  down  to  the  ship  and  see  what  passengers 
there  are,  and  finds  that  you  can  go  in  her,  without  being  actually 
suffocated  ;  my  advice  is,  go  !  You  and  I  will  look  about  us  in  the 
meantime  (we  won't  call  at  the  Norris's,  unless  you  like),  and  we  will 
all  three  dine  together,  in  the  afternoon." 

Martin  had  nothing  to  express  but  gratitude,  and  so  it  was  arranged. 
But  he  went  out  of  the  room  after  Mark,  and  advised  him  to  take  their 
passage  in  the  Screw,  though  they  lay  upon  the  bare  deck  ;  which  Mr. 


410  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

Tapley,   who   needed   no   entreaty   on   the   subject,   readily   promised 
to  do. 

When  he  and  Martin  met  again,  and  were  alone,  he  was  in  high 
spirits,  and  evidently  had  something  to  communicate,  in  which  he  gloried 
very  much. 

"  I  've  done  Mr.  Bevan,  Sir,"  said  Mark. 

"  Done  Mr.  Bevan  ! "  repeated  Martin. 

"  The  cook  of  the  Screw  went  and  got  married  yesterday,  Sir,"  said 
Mr.  Tapley. 

Martin  looked  at  him  for  farther  explanation. 

"  And  when  I  got  on  board,  and  the  word  was  passed  that  it  was  me,"" 
said  Mark,  "  the  mate  he  comes  and  asks  me  whether  I  'd  engage  to 
take  this  said  cook's  place  upon  the  passage  home.  '  For  you  're  used 
to  it,*  he  says  :  '  you  were  always  a  cooking  for  everybody  on  your  pas- 
sage out.'  And  so  I  was,"  said  Mark,  "  although  I  never  cooked  before, 
I  '11  take  my  oath." 

"  What  did  you  say  1 "  demanded  Martin. 

"  Say  !  "  cried  Mark.  "  That  I  'd  take  anything  I  could  get.  '  If 
that's  so,'  says  the  mate,  ^why,  bring  a  glass  of  rum;'  which  they 
brought  according.  And  my  wages,  Sir,"  said  Mark  in  high  glee,  "  pays 
your  passage  ;  and,  I've  put  the  rolling-pin  in  your  berth  to  take  it  (its 
the  easy  one  up  in  the  corner)  ;  and  there  we  are,  Rule  Britannia,  and 
Britons  strike  home  !  " 

"There  never  was  such' a  good  fellow  as  you  are!"  cried  Martin,, 
seizing  him  by  the  hand.  "  But  what  do  you  mean  by  '  doing '  Mr. 
Bevan,  Markf' 

"  Why,  don't  you  see,"  said  Mark.  "  We  don't  tell  him,  you  know. 
We  take  his  money,  but  we  don't  spend  it,  and  we  don't  keep  it.  What 
we  do  is,  write  him  a  little  note,  explaining  this  engagement,  and  roll 
it  up,  and  leave  it  at  the  bar,  to  be  given  to  him  after  we  are  gone. 
Don't  you  see?" 

Martin's  delisrht  in  this  idea  was  not  inferior  to  Mark's.  It  was  all 
done  as  he  proposed.  They  passed  a  cheerful  evening  ;  slept  at  the 
hotel ;  left  the  letter  as  arranged  ;  and  went  off  to  the  ship  betimes  next 
morning,  with  such  light  hearts,  as  the  weight  of  their  past  misery 
engendered. 

"Good  bye  !  a  hundred  thousand  times  good  bye  !"  said  Martin  to 
their  friend.  "  How  shall  I  remember  all  your  kindness !  How  shall  I 
ever  thank  you  !" 

"  If  you  ever  become  a  rich  man,  or  a  powerful  one,"  returned  his 
friend,  "  you  shall  try  to  make  your  Government  more  careful  of  its 
subjects  when  they  roam  abroad  to  live.  Tell  it  what  you  know  of 
emigration  in  your  own  case,  and  impress  upon  it  how  much  suiFering 
may  be  prevented  with  a  little  pains  !" 

Cheerily  lads,  cheerily  !  Anchor  weighed.  Ship  in  full  sail.  Her 
sturdy  bowsprit  pointing  true  to  England.  America  a  cloud  upon  the 
sea  behind  them  ! 

"  Why  Cook  !  what  are  you  thinking  of  so  steadily  ?"  said  Martin. 

"  Why  I  was  a  thinking.    Sir,"  returned  Mark,   "  that  if  I  was  a 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  411 

painter,  and  was  called  upon  to  paint  the  American  Eagle,  how  should  I 

doit?" 

"  Paint  it  as  like  an  Eagle  as  you  could,  I  suppose." 

"  No,"  said  Mark.     "  That  would  n't  do  for  me,  Sir.     I  should  want 

to  draw  it  like  a  Bat,  for  its  short-sightedness  ;  like  a  Bantam,  for  its 

bragging ;  like  a  Magpie,  for  its  honesty ;  like  a  Peacock,  for  its  vanity ; 

like  an  Ostrich,  for  its  putting  its  head  in  the  mud,  and  thinking 

nobody  sees  it — " 

"  And  like  a  Phoenix,  for  its  power  of  springing  from  the  ashes  of  its 

faults  and  vices,   and   soaring  up  anew  into  the  sky  1"  said  Martin, 

"  Well,  Mark.     Let  us  hope  so." 


CHAPTER  XXXV. 


ARRIVING  IN  ENGLAND,  MARTIN  WITNESSES  A  CEREMONY,  FROM  WHICH 
HE  DERIVES  THE  CHEERING  INFORMATION  THAT  HE  HAS  NOT  BEEN 
FORGOTTEN    IN    HIS    ABSENCE. 

It  was  mid-day,  and  high  water  in  the  English  port  for  which  the 
Screw  was  bound,  when,  borne  in  gallantly  upon  the  fulness  of  the  tide, 
she  let  go  her  anchor  in  the  river. 

Bright  as  the  scene  was ;  fresh,  and  full  of  motion  ;  airy,  free,  and 
sparkling  ;  it  was  nothing  to  the  life  and  exultation  in  the  breasts  of 
the  two  travellers,  at  sight  of  the  old  churches,  roofs,  and  darkened  chim- 
ney stacks  of  Home.  The  distant  roar,  that  swelled  up  hoarsely  from 
the  busy  streets,  was  music  in  their  ears ;  the  lines  of  people  gazing  from 
the  wharves,  were  friends  held  dear  ;  the  canopy  of  smoke  that  overhung 
the  town,  was  brighter  and  more  beautiful  to  them,  than  if  the  richest 
silks  of  Persia  had  been  waving  in  the  air.  And  though  the  water, 
going  on  its  glistening  track,  turned,  ever  and  again,  aside,  to  dance 
and  sparkle  round  great  ships,  and  heave  them  up  ;  and  leaped  from  off 
the  blades  of  oars,  a  shower  of  diving  diamonds  ;  and  wantoned  with  the 
idle  boats,  and  swiftly  passed,  in  many  a  sportive  chase,  through  obdurate 
old  iron  rings,  set  deep  into  the  stone- work  of  the  quays ;  not  even  it,  was 
half  so  buoyant,  and  so  restless,  as  their  fluttering  hearts,  when  yearning 
to  set  foot,  once  more,  on  native  ground. 

A  year  had  passed,  since  those  same  spires  and  roofs  had  faded  from 
their  eyes.  It  seemed  to  them  a  dozen  years.  Some  trifling  changes, 
here  and  there,  they  called  to  mind  ;  and  wondered  that  they  were  so  few 
and  slight.  In  health  and  fortune,  prospect  and  resource,  they  came 
back  poorer  men  than  they  had  gone  away.  But  it  was  home.  And 
though  home  is  a  name,  a  word,  it  is  a  strong  one  ;  stronger  than  magi- 
cian ever  spoke,  or  spirit  answered  to,  in  strongest  conjuration. 

Being  set  ashore,  with  very  little  money  in  their  pockets,  and  no  defi- 
nite plan  of  operation  in  their  heads,  they  sought  out  a  cheap  tavern, 
where  they  regaled  upon  a  smoking  steak,  and  certain  flowing  mugs  of 
beer,  as  only  men  just  landed  from  the  sea  can  revel  in  the  generous 


412  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

dainties  of  the  earth.  When  they  had  feasted,  as  two  grateful-tempered 
giants  might  have  done,  they  stirred  the  fire,  drew  back  the  glowing 
curtain  from  the  window,  and  making  each  a  sofa  for  himself,  by  union 
of  the  great  unwieldy  chairs,  gazed  blissfully  into  the  street. 

Even  the  street  was  made  a  fairy  street,  by  being  half  hidden  in  an 
atmosphere  of  steak,  and  strong,  stout,  stand-up  English  beer.  For  on 
the  window-glass  hung  such  a  mist,  that  Mr.  Tapley  was  obliged  to  rise 
and  wipe  it  with  his  handkerchief,  before  the  passengers  appeared  like 
common  mortals.  And  even  then,  a  spiral  little  cloud  went  curling  up 
from  their  two  glasses  of  hot  grog,  which  nearly  hid  them  from  each  other. 

It  was  one  of  those  unaccountable  little  rooms  which  are  never  seen 
anywhere  but  in  a  tavern,  and  are  supposed  to  have  got  into  taverns  by 
reason  of  the  facilities  afforded  to  the  architect  for  getting  drunk 
while  engaged  in  their  construction.  It  had  more  corners  in  it  than 
the  brain  of  an  obstinate  man  ;  was  full  of  mad  closets,  into  which 
nothing  could  be  put  that  was  not  specially  invented  and  made  for  that 
purpose ;  had  mysterious  shelvings  and  bulk-heads,  and  indications  of 
staircases  in  the  ceiling  ;  and  was  elaborately  provided  with  a  bell  that 
rung  in  the  room  itself,  about  two  feet  from  the  handle,  and  had  no 
connection  whatever  with  any  other  part  of  the  establishment.  It  was 
a  little  below  the  pavement,  and  abutted  close  upon  it ;  so  that  pas- 
sengers grated  against  the  window-panes  with  their  buttons,  and  scraped 
it  with  their  baskets ;  and  fearful  boys  suddenly  coming  between  a 
thoughtful  guest  and  the  light,  derided  him,  or  put  out  their  tongues  as 
if  he  were  a  physician ;  or  made  white  knobs  on  the  ends  of  their  noses 
by  flattening  the  same  against  the  glass,  and  vanished  awfully,  like 
spectres. 

Martin  and  Mark  sat  looking  at  the  people  as  they  passed,  debating 
every  now  and  then  what  their  first  step  should  be. 

"  We  want  to  see  Miss  Mary,  of  course,"  said  Mark. 

"  Of  course,"  said  Martin.  "  But  I  don't  know  where  she  is.  Not 
having  had  the  heart  to  write  in  our  distress — you  yourself  thought 
silence  most  advisable — and  consequently,  never  having  heard  from  her 
since  we  left  New  York  the  first  time,  I  don't  know  where  she  is,  my 
good  fellow." 

"  My  opinion  is.  Sir,"  returned  Mark,  "  that  what  we  've  got  to  do,  is 
to  travel  straight  to  the  Dragon.  There 's  no  need  for  you  to  go  there, 
where  you  're  known,  unless  you  like.  You  may  stop  ten  mile  short  of 
it.  1 11  go  on.  Mrs.  Lupin  will  tell  me  all  the  news.  Mr.  Pinch  will 
give  me  every  information  that  we  want :  and  right  glad  Mr.  Pinch 
will  be  to  do  it.  My  proposal  is  :  To  set  off  walking  this  afternoon. 
To  stop  when  we  are  tired.  To  get  a  lift  when  we  can.  To  walk 
when  we  can't.     To  do  it  at  once,  and  do  it  cheap." 

"  Unless  we  do  it  cheap,  we  shall  have  some  difficulty  in  doing  it  at 
all,"  said  Martin,  pulling  out  the  bank,  and  telling  it  over  in  his  hand. 

"  The  greater  reason  for  losing  no  time.  Sir,"  replied  Mark. 
'^  Whereas,  when  you  've  seen  the  young  lady  ;  and  know  what  state  of 
mind  the  old  gentleman's  in,  and  all  about  it ;  then  you  '11  know  what 
to  do  next." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  413 

" No  doubt/' said  Martin.     "You  are  quite  right." 

They  were  raising  their  glasses  to  their  lips,  when  their  hands  stopped 
midway,  and  their  gaze  was  arrested  by  a  figure,  which  slowly,  very 
slowly,  and  reflectively,  passed  the  window  at  that  moment. 

Mr.  Pecksniff.  Placid,  calm,  but  proud.  Honestly  proud.  Dressed 
with  peculiar  care,  smiling  with  even  more  than  usual  blandness,  pon- 
dering on  the  beauties  of  his  art  with  a  mild  abstraction  from  all  sordid 
thoughts,  and  gently  travelling  across  the  disc,  as  if  he  were  a  figure  in 
a  magic  lantern. 

As  Mr.  Pecksniff  passed,  a  person  coming  in  the  opposite  direction 
stopped  to  look  after  him  with  great  interest  and  respect  :  almost  with 
veneration  :  and  the  landlord  bouncing  out  of  the  house,  as  if  he  had 
seen  him  too,  joined  this  person,  and  spoke  to  him,  and  shook  his  head 
gravely,  and  looked  after  Sir.  Pecksniff  likewise. 

Martin  and  Mark  sat  staring  at  each  other,  as  if  they  could  not 
believe  it ;  but  there  stood  the  landlord,  and  the  other  man  still.  In 
spite  of  the  indignation  with  which  this  glimpse  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  had 
inspired  him,  Martin  could  not  help  laughing  heartily.  Neither  could 
Mark. 

"  We  must  inquire  into  this  !  "  said  Martin.  "  Ask  the  landlord  in, 
Mark." 

Mr.  Tapley  retired  for  that  purpose,  and  immediately  returned  with 
their  large-headed  host  in  safe  convoy. 

"  Pray  landlord  !  "  said  Martin,  '•  who  is  that  gentleman  who  passed 
just  now,  and  whom  you  were  looking  after  ?" 

The  landlord  poked  the  fire  as  if,  in  his  desire  to  make  the  most  of 
his  answer,  he  had  become  indifferent  even  to  the  price  of  coals  ;  and 
putting  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  said,  after  inflating  himself  to  give  still 
further  effect  to  his  reply  : 

"  That,  gentlemen,  is  the  great  Mr.  Pecksniff !  The  celebrated  archi- 
tect, gentlemen  !  " 

He  looked  from  one  to  the  other  while  he  said  it,  as  if  he  were  ready 
to  assist  the  first  man  who  might  be  overcome  by  the  intelligence. 

"  The  great  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  celebrated  architect,  gentlemen,"  said 
the  landlord,  "  has  come  down  here,  to  help  lay  the  first  stone  of  a  new 
and  splendid  public  building." 

"Is  it  to  be  built  from  his  designs?"  asked  Martin. 

"The  great  Mr.  Pecksniff,  the  celebrated  architect,  gentlemen," 
returned  the  landlord,  who  seemed  to  have  an  unspeakable  delight  in 
the  repetition  of  these  words,  "  carried  off  the  First  Premium,  and  will 
erect  the  building." 

"  Who  lays  the  stone  1  "  asked  Martin. 

"  Our  member  has  come  down  express,"  returned  the  landlord.  "  No 
scrubs  would  do  for  no  such  a  purpose.  Nothing  less  would  satisfy  our 
Directors  than  our  member  in  the  House  of  Commons,  who  is  returned 
upon  the  Gentlemanly  Interest." 

"  Which  interest  is  that  ?  "  asked  Martin. 

"  What,  don't  you  know  !  "  returned  the  landlord. 

It  was  quite  clear  the  landlord  didn't.    They  always  told  him  at  election 


414  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

time,  that  it  was  tlie  Gentlemanly  side,  and  lie  immediately  put  on  his 
top-boots,  and  voted  for  it. 

"  When  does  the  ceremony  take  place  1 "  asked  Martin. 

"  This  day,"  replied  the  landlord.  Then  pulling  out  his  watch,  he 
added  impressively,  "  almost  this  minute." 

Martin  hastily  inquired  whether  there  was  any  possibility  of  getting 
in  to  witness  it;  and  finding  that  there  would  be  no  objection  to  the 
admittance  of  any  decent  person,  unless  indeed  the  ground  were  full, 
hurried  off  with  Mark,  as  hard  as  they  could  go. 

They  were  fortunate  enough  to  squeeze  themselves  into  a  famous 
corner  on  the  ground,  where  they  could  see  all  that  passed,  without  much 
dread  of  being  beheld  by  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  return.  They  were  not  a 
minute  too  soon,  for  as  they  were  in  the  act  of  congratulating  each 
other,  a  great  noise  was  heard  at  some  distance,  and  everybody  looked 
towards  the  gate.  Several  ladies  prepared  their  pocket  handkerchiefs 
for  waving ;  and  a  stray  teacher  belonging  to  the  charity  school  being 
much  cheered  by  mistake,  was  immensely  groaned  at  when  detected. 

"  Perhaps  he  has  Tom  Pinch  with  him,"  Martin  whispered  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  It  would  be  rather  too  much  of  a  treat  for  him,  wouldn't  it,  Sirf 
whispered  Mr.  Tapley  in  return. 

There  was  no  time  to  discuss  the  probabilities  either  way,  for  the 
charity  school,  in  clean  linen,  came  filing  in  two  and  two,  so  much  to  the 
self-approval  of  all  the  people  present  who  didn  't  subscribe  to  it,  that 
many  of  them  shed  tears.  A  band  of  music  followed,  led  by  a  consci- 
entious drummer  who  never  left  off".  Then  came  a  great  many  gentlemen 
with  wands  in  their  hands,  and  bows  on  their  breasts,  whose  share  in  the 
proceedings  did  not  appear  to  be  distinctly  laid  down,  and  who  trod  upon 
each  other,  and  blocked  up  the  entry  for  a  considerable  period.  These 
were  followed  by  the  Mayor  and  Corporation,  all  clustering  round  the 
member  for  the  Gentlemanly  Interest ;  who  had  the  great  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
the  celebrated  architect,  on  his  right  hand,  and  conversed  with  him 
familiarly  as  they  came  along.  Then  the  ladies  waved  their  handker- 
chiefs, and  the  gentlemen  their  hats,  and  the  charity  children  shrieked, 
and  the  member  for  the  Gentlemanly  Interest  bowed. 

Silence  being  restored,  the  member  for  the  Gentlemanly  Interest 
rubbed  his  hands,  and  wagged  his  head,  and  looked  about  him  pleasantlyj 
and  there  was  nothing  this  member  did,  at  which  some  lady  or  other  did 
not  burst  into  an  ecstatic  waving  of  her  pocket-handkerchief.  When  he 
looked  up  at  the  stone,  they  said  how  graceful !  when  he  peeped  into  the 
hole,  they  said  how  condescending  !  when  he  chatted  with  the  Mayor, 
they  said  how  easy  !  when  he  folded  his  arms  they  cried  with  one  accord, 
how  statesman-like ! 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  observed  too  ;  closely.  When  he  talked  to  the 
Mayor,  they  said.  Oh,  really,  what  a  courtly  man  he  was  !  When 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  mason's  shoulder,  giving  him  directions,  how 
pleasant  his  demeanour  to  the  working  classes  :  just  the  sort  of  man 
who  made  their  toil  a  pleasure  to  them,  poor  dear  souls  ! 

But  now  a  silver  trowel  was  brought ;  and  when  the  member  for  the 
Gentlemanly  Interest,  tucking  up  his  coat-sleeve,  did  a  little  sleight-of- 


u^y/Zzr/yi^  '9^F.-t'y^)/y  ^:'r7///4''r.^^/y  a/7i^z^^A^  c^-/r7?'i<97Z^ 


97Z^2^ 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  415 

hand  with  the  mortar,  the  air  was  rent,  so  loud  was  the  applause.  The 
workman-like  manner  in  which  he  did  it  was  amazing.  No  one  could 
conceive  where  such  a  gentlemanly  creature  could  have  picked  the 
knowledge  up. 

When  he  had  made  a  kind  of  dirt-pie  under  the  direction  of  the 
mason,  they  brought  a  little  vase  containing  coins,  the  which  the  member 
for  the  Gentlemanly  Interest  jingled,  as  if  he  were  going  to  conjure. 
Whereat  they  said  how  droll,  how  cheerful,  what  a  flow  of  spirits  !  This 
put  into  its  place,  an  ancient  scholar  read  the  inscription,  which  was  in 
Latin :  not  in  English :  that  would  never  do.  It  gave  great  satisfaction ; 
especially  every  time  there  was  a  good  long  substantive  in  the  third 
declension,  ablative  case,  with  an  adjective  to  match  ;  at  which  periods 
the  assembly  became  very  tender,  and  were  much  affected. 

And  now  the  stone  was  lowered  down  into  its  place,  amidst  the  shouting 
of  the  concourse.  When  it  was  firmly  fixed,  the  member  for  the 
Gentlemanly  Interest  struck  upon  it  thrice  with  the  handle  of  the 
trowel,  as  if  inquiring,  with  a  touch  of  humour,  whether  anybody  was  at 
home.  Mr.  Pecksniff  then  unrolled  his  Plans  (prodigious  plans  they 
were),  and  people  gathered  round  to  look  at  and  admire  them. 

Martin,  who  had  been  fretting  himself — quite  unnecessarily,  as  Mark 
thought — during  the  whole  of  these  proceedings,  could  no  longer  restrain 
his  impatience;  but  stepping  forward  among  several  others,  looked  straight 
over  the  shoulder  of  the  unconscious  Mr.  Pecksniff,  at  the  designs  and 
plans  he  had  unrolled.     He  returned  to  Mark,  boiling  with  rage. 

"Why,  what 's  the  matter.  Sir  V  cried  Mark. 

"  Matter  !     This  is  my  building." 

"Your  building,  Sir  !"  said  Mark. 

"  My  grammar-school.  I  invented  it.  I  did  it  all.  He  has  only 
put  four  windows  in,  the  villain,  and  spoilt  it  !" 

Mark  could  hardly  believe  it  at  first,  but  being  assured  that  it  was 
really  so,  actually  held  him  to  prevent  his  interference  foolishly,  until 
his  temporary  heat  was  past.  In  the  mean  time,  the  member  addressed 
the  company  on  the  gratifying  deed  which  he  had  just  performed. 

He  said  that  since  he  had  sat  in  Parliament  to  represent  the  Gentle- 
manly Interest  of  that  town ;  and  he  might  add,  the  Lady  Interest  he 
hoped,  besides  (pocket  handkerchiefs)  ;  it  had  been  his  pleasant  duty  to 
come  among  them,  and  to  raise  his  voice  on  their  behalf  in  Another  Place 
(pocket  handkerchiefs  and  laughter),  often.  But  he  had  never  come 
among  them,  and  had  never  raised  his  voice,  with  half  such  pure,  such 
deep,  such  unalloyed  delight,  as  now.  "  The  present  occasion,"  he  said, 
''will  ever  be  memorable  to  me :  not  only  for  the  reasons  I  have  assigned, 
but  because  it  has  afforded  me  an  opportunity  of  becoming  personally 
known  to  a  gentleman — " 

Here  he  pointed  the  trowel  at  Mr.  Pecksniff,  who  was  greeted  with 
vociferous  cheering,  and  laid  his  hand  upon  his  heart. 

"  To  a  gentleman  who,  I  am  happy  to  believe,  will  reap  both  distinction 
and  profit  from  this  field :  whose  fame  had  previously  penetrated  to  me 
— as  to  whose  ears  has  it  not ! — but  whose  intellectual  countenance  I 
never  had  the  distinguished  honor  to  behold  until  this  day,  and  whose 


416  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

intellectual  conversation  I  had  never  before  the  improving  pleasure 
to  enjoy. 

Everybody  seemed  very  glad  of  this,  and  applauded  more  than  ever. 

"  But  I  hope  my  Honourable  Friend,"  said  the  Gentlemanly  member 
— of  course  he  added  '  if  he  will  allow  me  to  call  him  so,'  and  of  course 
Mr.  Pecksniff  bowed — "  will  give  me  many  opportunities  of  cultivating 
the  knowledge  of  him ;  and  that  I  may  have  the  extraordinary  gratifica- 
tion of  reflecting  in  after  time  that  I  laid  on  this  day  two  first  stones, 
both  belonging  to  structures  which  shall  last  my  life  !" 

Great  cheering  again.  All  this  time,  Martin  was  cursing  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff up  hill  and  down  dale. 

"  My  friends  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  reply.  "  My  duty  is  to  build, 
not  speak ;  to  act,  not  talk ;  to  deal  with  marble,  stone,  and  brick  : 
not  language.     I  am  very  much  affected.     God  bless  you  !" 

This  address,  pumped  out  apparently  from  Mr.  Pecksniff's  very  heart, 
brought  the  enthusiasm  to  its  highest  pitch.  The  pocket  handkerchiefs 
were  waved  again ;  the  charity  children  were  admonished  to  grow  up 
Pecksniffs,  every  boy  among  them ;  the  corporation,  gentlemen  with 
wands,  member  for  the  Gentlemanly  Interest,  all  cheered  for  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff. Three  cheers  for  Mr.  Pecksniff!  Three  more  for  Mr.  Pecksniff! 
Three  more  for  Mr.  Pecksniff,  gentlemen,  if  you  please  !  One  more, 
gentlemen,  for  Mr.  Pecksniff,  and  let  it  be  a  good  one  to  finish  with  ! 

In  short,  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  supposed  to  have  done  a  great  work,  and 
was  very  kindly,  courteously,  and  generously  rewarded.  When  the  pro- 
cession moved  away,  and  Martin  and  Mark  were  left  almost  alone  upon 
the  ground,  his  merits  and  a  desire  to  acknowledge  them  formed  the 
common  topic.     He  was  only  second  to  the  Gentlemanly  member. 

"Compare  that  fellow's  situation  to-day,  with  ours!"  said  Martin, 
bitterly. 

" Lord  bless  you  Sir  !"  cried  Mark,  "what 's  the  use  !  Some  architects 
are  clever  at  making  foundations,  and  some  architects  are  clever  at 
building  on  'em  when  they  're  made.  But  it  '11  all  come  right  in  the 
end  Sir  ;  it  '11  all  come  right  ! " 

"  And  in  the  mean  time,"  began  Martin. 

"  In  the  mean  time,  as  you  say  Sir,  we  have  a  deal  to  do,  and  far  to 
go.     So  sharp's  the  word,  and  Jolly  !" 

"You  are  the  best  master  .in  the  world,  Mark,"  said  Martin,  "and  I 
will  not  be  a  bad  scholar  if  I  can  help  it,  I  am  resolved.!  So  come  ! 
Best  foot  foremost,  old  fellow  !  " 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  417 


CHAPTER  XXXYI. 

TOM    PINCH    DEPARTS    TO    SEEK    HIS    FORTUNE.       WHAT    HE    FINDS    AT 

STARTING. 

Oh  !  what  a  different  town  Salisbury  was  in  Tom  Pinch's  eyes  to  be 
sure,  when  the  substantial  Pecksniff  of  his  heart  melted  away  into  an 
idle  dream  !  He  possessed  the  same  faith  in  the  wonderful  shops, 
the  same  intensified  appreciation  of  the  mystery  and  wickedness  of  the 
place ;  made  the  same  exalted  estimate  of  its  wealth,  population  and 
resources  ;  and  yet  it  was  not  the  old  city  nor  anything  like  it.  He 
•walked  into  the  market  while  they  were  getting  breakfast  ready  for  him 
at  the  Inn  :  and  though  it  was  the  same  market  as  of  old,  crowded  by 
the  same  buyers  and  sellers  ;  brisk  with  the  same  business  ;  noisy  with 
the  same  confusion  of  tongues  and  cluttering  of  fowls  in  coops ;  fair  with 
the  same  display  of  rolls  of  butter,  newly  made,  set  forth  in  linen  cloths  of 
dazzling  whiteness  ;  green  with  the  same  fresh  show  of  dewy  vegetables  ; 
dainty  with  the  same  array  in  higglers'  baskets  of  small  shaving-glasses, 
laces,  braces,  trouser-straps,  and  hardware ;  savoury  with  the  same 
unstinted  show  of  delicate  pigs'  feet  and  pies  made  precious  by  the 
pork  that  once  had  walked  upon  them  :  still  it  was  strangely  changed 
to  Tom.  For  in  the  centre  of  the  market-place  he  missed  a  statue  he 
had  set  up  there,  as  in  all  other  places  of  his  personal  resort ;  and  it 
looked  cold  and  bare  without  that  ornament. 

The  change  lay  no  deeper  than  this,  for  Tom  was  far  from  being  sage 
enough  to  know,  that,  having  been  disappointed  in  one  man,  it  would 
have  been  a  strictly  rational  and  eminently  wise  proceeding  to  have 
revenged  himself  upon  mankind  in  general,  by  mistrusting  them  one  and 
all.  Indeed  this  piece  of  justice,  though  it  is  upheld  by  the  authority 
of  divers  profound  poets  and  honorable  men,  bears  a  nearer  resemblance 
to  the  justice  of  that  good  Vizier  in  the  Thousand-and-one  Nights,  who 
issues  orders  for  the  destruction  of  all  the  Porters  in  Bagdad  because 
one  of  that  unfortunate  fraternity  is  supposed  to  have  misconducted 
himself,  than  to  any  logical,  not  to  say  Christian  system  of  conduct, 
known  to  the  world  in  later  times. 

Tom  had  so  long  been  used  to  steep  the  Pecksniff  of  his  fancy  in  his 
tea,  and  spread  him  out  upon  his  toast,  and  take  him  as  a  relish  with 
his  beer,  that  he  made  but  a  poor  breakfast  on  the  first  morning  after 
his  expulsion.  Nor  did  he  much  improve  his  appetite  for  dinner  by 
seriously  considering  his  own  affairs,  and  taking  counsel  thereon  with 
his  friend  the  organist's  assistant. 

The  organist's  assistant  gave  it  as  his  decided  opinion  that  whatever 
Tom  did,  he  must  go  to  London  ;  for  there  was  no  place  like  it.  Which 
may  be  true  in  the  main,  though  hardly  perhaps,  in  itself,  a  sufiicient 
reason  for  Tom's  going  there. 

E    E 


418  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

But  Tom  had  thouglit  of  London  before,  and  had  coupled  with  it 
thoughts  of  his  sister,  and  of  his  old  friend  John  Westlock,  whose  advice 
he  naturally  felt  disposed  to  seek  in  this  important  crisis  of  his  fortunes. 
To  London,  therefore,  he  resolved  to  go  ;  and  he  went  away  to  the  coach- 
office  at  once,  to  secure  his  place.  The  coach  being  already  full,  he  was 
obliged  to  postpone  his  departure  until  the  next  night ;  but  even  this 
circumstance  had  its  bright  side  as  well  as  its  dark  one,  for  though  it 
threatened  to  reduce  his  poor  purse  with  unexpected  country-charges, 
it  afforded  him  an  opportunity  of  writing  to  Mrs.  Lupin  and  appointing 
his  box  to  be  brought  to  the  old  finger-post  at  the  old  time  ;  which 
would  enable  him  to  take  that  treasure  with  him  to  the  metropolis,  and 
save  the  expense  of  its  carriage.  "  So,"  said  Tom,  comforting  himself, 
"it's  very  nearly  as  broad  as  it's  long." 

And  it  cannot  be  denied  that,  when  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  even 
this  extent,  he  felt  an  unaccustomed  sense  of  freedom — a  vague  and 
indistinct  impression  of  holiday-making — which  was  very  luxurious. 
He  had  his  moments  of  depression  and  anxiety,  and  they  were,  with  good 
reason,  pretty  numerous  ;  but  still,  it  was  wonderfully  pleasant  to  reflect 
that  he  was  his  own  master,  and  could  plan  and  scheme  for  himself.  It 
was  startling,  thrilling,  vast,  difficult  to  understand ;  it  was  a  stu- 
pendous truth,  teeming  with  responsibility  and  self-distrust;  but,  in  spite 
of  all  his  cares,  it  gave  a  curious  relish  to  the  viands  at  the  Inn,  and 
interposed  a  dreamy  haze  between  him  and  his  prospects,  in  which  they 
sometimes  showed  to  magical  advantage. 

In  this  unsettled  state  of  mind,  Tom  went  once  more  to  bed  in  the 
low  four-poster,  to  the  same  immoveable  surprise  of  the  effigies  of  the 
former  landlord  and  the  fat  ox  ;  and  in  this  condition,  passed  the  whole 
of  the  succeeding  day.  When  the  coach  came  round  at  last,  with 
"  London"  blazoned  in  letters  of  gold  upon  the  boot,  it  gave  Tom  such 
a  turn,  that  he  was  half  disposed  to  run  away.  But  he  didn't  do  it ;  for 
he  took  his  seat  upon  the  box  instead,  and  looking  down  upon  the  four 
grays,  felt  as  if  he  were  another  gray  himself,  or,  at  all  events,  a  part  of 
the  turn-out ;  and  was  quite  confused  by  the  novelty  and  splendour  of 
his  situation. 

And  really  it  might  have  confused  a  less  modest  man  than  Tom  to 
find  himself  sitting  next  that  coachman  ;  for  of  all  the  swells  that  ever 
flourished  a  whip,  professionally,  he  might  have  been  elected  emperor. 
He  didn't- handle  his  gloves  like  another  man,  but  put  them  on — even 
when  he  was  standing  on  the  pavement,  quite  detached  from  the  coach 
— as  if  the  four  grays  were,  somehow  or  other,  at  the  ends  of  the  fingers. 
It  was  the  same  with  his  hat.  He  did  things  with  his  hat,  which 
nothing  but  an  unlimited  knowledge  of  horses  and  the  wildest  freedom 
of  the  road,  could  ever  have  made  him  perfect  in.  Valuable  little  par- 
cels were  brought  to  him  with  particular  instructions,  and  he  pitched 
them  into  this  hat,  and  stuck  it  on  again  ;  as  if  the  laws  of  gravity  did 
not  admit  of  such  an  event  as  its  being  knocked  off  or  blown  off,  and 
nothing  like  an  accident  could  befal  it.  The  guard,  too  !  Seventy  breezy 
miles  a-day  were  written  in  his  very  whiskers.  His  manners  were  a 
canter ;  his  conversation  a  round  trot.     He  was  a  fast  coach  upon  a 


^>i^. 


j^  Aee/>  A-6^  /cyd^i 


'l/Z€ 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  419 

down-hill  turnpike  road  ;    he  was  all  pace.     A  waggon  couldn't  have 
moved  slowly,  with  that  guard  and  his  key-bugle  on  the  top  of  it. 

These  were  all  foreshadowings  of  London,  Tom  thought,  as  he  sat 
upon  the  box,  and  looked  about  him.  Such  a  coachman,  and  such  a 
guard,  never  could  have  existed  between  Salisbury  and  any  other  place. 
The  coach  was  none  of  your  steady-going,  yokel  coaches,  but  a  swag- 
gering, rakish,  dissipated,  London  coach ;  up  all  night,  and  lying  by 
all  day,  and  leading  a  devil  of  a  life.  It  cared  no  more  for  Salisbury 
than  if  it  had  been  a  hamlet.  It  rattled  noisily  through  the  best  streets, 
defied  the  Cathedral,  took  the  worst  corners  sharpest,  went  cutting  in 
everywhere,  making  everything  get  out  of  its  way ;  and  spun  along  the 
open  country-road,  blowing  a  lively  defiance  out  of  its  key-bugle,  as  its 
last  glad  parting  legacy. 

It  was  a  charming  evening.  Mild  and  bright.  And  even  with  the 
weight  upon  his  mind  which  arose  out  of  the  immensity  and  uncertainty 
of  London,  Tom  could  not  resist  the  captivating  sense  of  rapid  motion 
through  the  pleasant  air.  The  four  grays  skimmed  along,  as  if  they 
liked  it  quite  as  well  as  Tom  did  ;  the  bugle  was  in  as  high  spirits  as 
the  grays ;  the  coachman  chimed  in  sometimes  with  his  voice ;  the 
wheels  hummed  cheerfully  in  unison ;  the  brass- work  on  the  harness 
was  an  orchestra  of  little  bells  ;  and  thus,  as  they  went  clinking,  jingling, 
rattling,  smoothly  on,  the  whole  concern,  from  the  buckles  of  the  leaders' 
coupling-reins,  to  the  handle  of  the  hind  boot,  was  one  great  instrument 
of  music. 

Yoho,  past  hedges,  gates,  and  trees  ;  past  cottages  and  barns,  and 
people  going  home  from  work.  Yoho,  past  donkey-chaises,  drawn  aside 
into  the  ditch,  and  empty  carts  with  rampant  horses,  whipped  up  at  a 
bound  upon  the  little  watercourse,  and  held  by  struggling  carters  close 
to  the  five-barred  gate,  until  the  coach  had  passed  the  narrow  turning  in 
the  road.  Yoho,  by  churches  dropped  down  by  themselves  in  quiet 
nooks,  with  rustic  burial-grounds  about  them,  where  the  graves  are 
green,  and  daisies  sleep — for  it  is  evening — on  the  bosoms  of  the  dead. 
Yoho,  past  streams,  in  which  the  cattle  cool  their  feet,  and  where  the 
rushes  grow ;  past  paddock-fences,  farms,  and  rick-yards  ;  past  last 
year's  stacks,  cut,  slice  by  slice,  away,  and  showing,  in  the  waning  light, 
like  ruined  gables,  old  and  brown.  Yoho,  down  the  pebbly  dip,  and 
through  the  merry  water-splash,  and  up  at  a  canter  to  the  level  road 
again.     Yoho  !  Yoho  ! 

Was  the  box  there,  when  they  came  up  to  the  old  finger-post  ?  The 
box  !  Was  Mrs.  Lupin  herself?  Had  she  turned  out  magnificently  as 
a  hostess  should,  in  her  own  chaise-cart,  and  was  she  sitting  in  a  mahogany 
chair,  driving  her  own  horse  Dragon  (who  ought  to  have  been  called 
Dumpling),  and  looking  lovely  1  Did  the  stage-coach  pull  up  beside 
her,  shaving  her  very  wheel,  and  even  while  the  guard  helped  her  man 
up  with  the  trunk,  did  he  send  the  glad  echoes  of  his  bugle  careering 
down  the  chimneys  of  the  distant  Pecksniff",  as  if  the  coach  expressed  its 
exultation  in  the  rescue  of  Tom  Pinch  ? 

"  This  is  kind  indeed  !  "  said  Tom,  bending  down  to  shake  hands  with 
her.     "  I  didn't  mean  to  give  you  this  trouble." 

E  E  2 


420  LIFE    AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Trouble,  Mr.  Pincli  !  "  cried  the  hostess  of  the  Dragon. 

"  Well  !  It 's  a  pleasure  to  you,  I  know,"  said  Tom,  squeezing  her 
hand  heartily.     "Is  there  any  news  ?  " 

The  hostess  shook  her  head. 

"  Say  you  saw  me,"  said  Tom,  "  and  that  I  was  very  bold  and  cheer- 
fn\  and  not  a  bit  down-hearted ;  and  that  I  entreated  her  to  be  the 
same,  for  all  is  certain  to  come  right  at  last.     Good  bye  !  " 

"  You  '11  write  when  you  get  settled,  Mr.  Pinch  1 "  said  Mrs.  Lupin. 

"  When  I  get  settled  1 "  cried  Tom,  with  an  involuntary  opening  of 
his  eyes.  "  Oh,  yes,  I  '11  write  when  I  get  settled.  Perhaps  I  had  better 
write  before,  because  I  may  find  that  it  takes  a  little  time  to  settle 
myself:  not  having  too  much  money,  and  having  only  one  friend.  I 
shall  give  your  love  to  the  friend,  by  the  way.  You  were  always 
great  with  Mr.  Westlock,  you  know.     Good  bye  ! " 

"  Good  bye  !  "  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  hastily  producing  a  basket  with  a  long 
bottle  sticking  out  of  it.     "  Take  this.     Good  bye  1 " 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  carry  it  to  London  for  you  ? "  cried  Tom. 
She  was  already  turning  the  chaise-cart  round. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin.  "  It 's  only  a  little  something  for  refresh- 
ment on  the  road.  Sit  fast,  Jack.  Drive  on,  sir.  All  right  !  Good  bye  !  " 

She  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  off,  before  Tom  collected  himself ;  and  then 
he  was  waving  his  hand  lustily  ;  and  so  was  she. 

"  And  that 's  the  last  of  the  old  finger-post,"  thought  Tom,  straining 
his  eyes,  "  where  I  have  so  often  stood,  to  see  this  very  coach  go  by,  and 
where  I  have  parted  with  so  many  companions  !  I  used  to  compare  this 
coach  to  some  great  monster  that  appeared  at  certain  times  to  bear  my 
friends  away  into  the  world.  And  now  it 's  bearing  me  away,  to  seek 
my  fortune,  Heaven  knows  where  and  how  !" 

It  made  Tom  melancholy  to  picture  himself  walking  up  the  lane  and 
back  to  Pecksnifi''s  2^s  of  old  ;  and  being  melancholy,  he  looked  down- 
wards at  the  basket  on  his  knee,  which  he  had  for  the  moment  forgotten. 

"  She  is  the  kindest  and  most  considerate  creature  in  the  world," 
thought  Tom.  "  Now  I  know  that  she  particularly  told  that  man  of 
her's  not  to  look  at  me,  on  purpose  to  prevent  my  throwing  him  a 
shilling  !  I  had  it  ready  for  him  all  the  time,  and  he  never  once  looked 
towards  me  ;  whereas  that  man  naturally  (for  I  know  him  very  well), 
would  have  done  nothing  but  grin  and  stare.  Upon  my  word,  the  kind- 
ness of  people  perfectly  melts  me." 

Here  he  caught  the  coachman's  eye.  The  coachman  winked.  "  Ee- 
markable  fine  woman  for  her  time  of  life,"  said  the  coachman. 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,"  returned  Tom.     "So  she  is." 

"  Finer  than  many  a  young  one,  I  mean  to  say,"  observed  the  coach- 
man.    "Eh?" 

"  Than  many  a  young  one,"  Tom  assented. 

"  I  don't  care  for  'em  myself  when  they're  too  young,"  remarked 
the  coachman. 

This  was  a  matter  of  taste,  which  Tom  did  not  feel  himself  called 
upon  to  discuss. 

"  You'll  seldom  find  'em  possessing  correct  opinions  about  refresh- 


MARTIN    CHUZZLET7IT. 

ment,  for  instance,  when  they're  too  young',  you  know,"  said  the 
coachman  :  "a  woman  must  have  arrived  at  maturity,  before  her  mind's 
equal  to  coming  provided  with  a  basket  like  that." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  know  what  it  contains  ?"  said  Tom, 
smiling. 

As  the  coachman  only  laughed,  and  as  Tom  was  curious  himself,  he 
unpacked  it,  and  put  the  articles,  one  by  one,  upon  the  footboard.  A 
cold  roast  fowl,  a  packet  of  ham  in  slices,  a  crusty  loaf,  a  piece  of  cheese, 
a  paper  of  biscuits,  half  a  dozen  apples,  a  knife,  some  butter,  a  screw  of 
salt,  and  a  bottle  of  old  sherry.  There  was  a  letter  besides,  which  Tom 
put  in  his  pocket. 

The  coachman  was  so  earnest  in  his  approval  of  Mrs.  Lupin's  provi- 
dent habits,  and  congratulated  Tom  so  warmly  on  his  good  fortune, 
that  Tom  felt  it  necessary,  for  the  lady's  sake,  to  explain  that  the 
basket  was  a  strictly  Platonic  basket,  and  had  merely  been  presented  to 
him  in  the  way  of  friendship.  When  he  had  made  the  statement  with 
perfect  gravity ;  for  he  felt  it  incumbent  on  him  to  disabuse  the  mind  of 
this  lax  rover  of  any  incorrect  impressions  on  the  subject;  he  signified 
that  he  would  be  happy  to  share  the  gifts  with  him,  and  proposed  that 
they  should  attack  the  basket  in  a  spirit  of  good  fellowship  at  any  time 
in  the  course  of  the  night  which  the  coachman's  experience  and  know- 
ledge of  the  road  might  suggest,  as  being  best  adapted  to  the  purpose. 
Prom  this  time  they  chatted  so  pleasantly  together,  that  although  Tom 
knew  infinitely  more  of  unicorns  than  horses,  the  coachman  informed  his 
friend  the  guard,  at  the  end  of  the  next  stage,  "  that  rum  as  the  box- 
seat  looked,  he  was  as  good  a  one  to  go,  in  point  of  conversation,  as  ever 
he  'd  wish  to  sit  by." 

Yoho,  among  the  gathering  shades  ;  making  of  no  account  the  deep 
reflections  of  the  trees,  but  scampering  on  through  light  and  darkness, 
all  the  same,  as  if  the  light  of  London  fifty  miles  away,  were  quite 
enough  to  travel  by,  and  some  to  spare.  Yoho,  beside  the  village-green, 
where  cricket-players  linger  yet,  and  every  little  indentation  made  in 
the  fresh  grass  by  bat  or  wicket,  ball  or  player's  foot,  sheds  out  its  per- 
fume on  the  night.  Away  with  four  fresh  horses  from  the  Bald-faced 
Stag,  where  topers  congregate  about  the  door  admiring  ;  and  the  last 
team  with  traces  hanging  loose,  go  roaming  ofi*  towards  the  pond, 
until  observed  and  shouted  after  by  a  dozen  throats,  while  volunteering 
boys  pursue  them.  Now  with  a  clattering  of  hoofs  and  striking  out  of 
fiery  sparks,  across  the  old  stone  bridge,  and  down  again  into  the 
shadowy  road,  and  through  the  open  gate,  and  far  away,  away,  into  the 
wold.     Yoho ! 

Yoho,  behind  there,  stop  that  bugle  for  a  moment !  Come  creep- 
ing over  to  the  front,  along  the  coach-roof,  guard,  and  make  one  at 
this  basket  !  Not  that  we  slacken  in  our  pace  the  while,  not  we  :  we 
rather  put  the  bits  of  blood  upon  their  mettle,  for  the  greater  glory  of 
the  snack.  Ah  !  It  is  Ions;  since  this  bottle  of  old  wine  was  brouo-ht 
into  contact  with  the  mellow  breath  of  night,  you  may  depend,  and  rare 
good  stuff  it  is  to  wet  a  bugler's  whistle  with.  Only  try  it.  Don't 
be  afraid  of  turning  up  your  finger.  Bill,  another  pull  !     Now,  take 


422  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

your  breath,  and  try  the  bugle,  Bill.  There 's  music  !  There's  a  tone  ! 
"  Over  the  hills  and  far  away,"  indeed.  Yoho  !  The  skittish  mare  is 
all  alive  to-night.     Yoho  !     Yoho  ! 

See  the  bright  moon  !  High  up  before  we  know  it :  making  the 
earth  reflect  the  objects  on  its  breast  like  water.  Hedges,  trees,  low 
cottages,  church  steeples,  blighted  stumps  and  flourishing  young  slips, 
have  all  grown  vain  upon  the  sudden,  and  mean  to  contemplate  their 
own  fair  images  till  morning.  The  poplars  yonder  rustle,  that  their 
quivering  leaves  may  see  themselves  upon  the  ground.  Not  so  the 
oak  ;  trembling  does  not  become  him  ;  and  he  watches  himself  in  his 
stout  old  burly  stedfastness,  without  the  motion  of  a  twig.  The  moss- 
grown  gate,  ill-poised  upon  its  creaking  hinges,  crippled  and  decayed, 
swings  to  and  fro  before  its  glass,  like  some  fantastic  dowager  ;  while 
our  own  ghostly  likeness  travels  on,  Yoho  !  Yoho  !  through  ditch  and 
brake,  upon  the  ploughed  land  and  the  smooth,  along  the  steep  hill- 
side and  steeper  wall,  as  if  it  were  a  phantom-Hunter. 

Clouds  too  !  And  a  mist  upon  the  Hollow  !  Not  a  dull  fog  that  hides 
it,  but  a  light  airy  gauze-like  mist,  which  in  our  eyes  of  modest  admira- 
tion gives  a  new  charm  to  the  beauties  it  is  spread  before :  as  real 
gauze  has  done  ere  now,  and  would  again,  so  please  you,  though  we 
were  the  Pope.  Yoho  !  Why  now  we  travel  like  the  Moon  herself. 
Hiding  this  minute  in  a  grove  of  trees ;  next  minute  in  a  patch  of 
vapour  j  emerging  now  upon  our  broad  clear  course  ;  withdrawing  now, 
but  always  dashing  on,  our  journey  is  a  counterpart  of  hers.  Yoho  !  A 
match  against  the  Moon.     Yoho,  yoho  ! 

The  beauty  of  the  night  is  hardly  felt,  when  Day  comes  leaping  up. 
Yoho  !  Two  stages,  and  the  country  roads  are  almost  changed  to  a 
continuous  street.  ''Yoho,  past  market-gardens,  rows  of  houses,  villas, 
crescents,  terraces,  and  squares  j  past  waggons,  coaches,  carts  j  past 
early  workmen,  late  stragglers,  drunken  men,  and  sober  carriers  o* 
loads ;  past  brick  and  mortar  in  its  every  shape  ;  and  in  among  the 
rattling  pavements,  where  a  jaunty-seat  upon  a  coach  is  not  so  easy  to 
preserve  !  Yoho,  down  countless  turnings,  and  through  countless  mazy 
ways,  until  an  old  Inn-yard  is  gained,  and  Tom  Pinch,  getting  down, 
quite  stunned  and  giddy,  is  in  London  ! 

"  Five  minutes  before  the  time,  too  !"  said  the  driver,  as  he  received 
his  fee  of  Tom. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Tom,  "  I  should  not  have  minded  nqtj  much, 
if  we  had  been  five  hours  after  it ;  for  at  this  early  hour  I  don't  know 
where  to  go,  or  what  to  do  with  myself." 

"  Don't  they  expect  you  then  T  inquired  the  driver. 

"  Who  r  said  Tom. 

"  Why,  them,"  returned  the  driver. 

His  mind  was  so  clearly  running  on  the  assumption  of  Tom's  having 
come  to  town  to  see  an  extensive  circle  of  anxious  relations  and  friends, 
that  it  would  have  been  pretty  hard  work  to  undeceive  him.  Tom  did 
not  try.  He  cheerfully  evaded  the  subject,  and  going  into  the  Inn  fell 
fast  asleep  before  a  fire  in  one  of  the  public  rooms  opening  from  the 
yard.     When  he  awoke,  the  people  in  the  house  were  all  astir,  so  he 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  423 

washed  and  dressed  himself;  to  his  great  refreshment  after  the  journey; 
and,  it  being  by  that  time  eight  o'clock,  went  forth  at  once  to  see  his 
old  friend  John. 

John  Westlock  lived  in  Furnival's  Inn,  High  Holborn,  which  was  within 
a  quarter  of  an  hour's  walk  of  Tom's  starting  point,  but  seemed  a  long 
way  off,  by  reason  of  his  going  two  or  three  miles  out  of  the  straight 
road  to  make  a  short  cut.  When  at  last  he  arrived  outside  John's  door, 
two  stories  up,  he  stood  faltering  with  his  hand  upon  the  knocker,  and 
trembled  from  head  to  foot.  For  he  was  rendered  very  nervous  by  the 
thought  of  having  to  relate  what  had  fallen  out  between  himself  and 
Pecksniff;  and  he  had  a  misgiving  that  John  would  exult  fearfully  in 
the  disclosure. 

"  But  it  must  be  made,"  thought  Tom,  "  sooner  or  later  ;  and  I  had 
better  get  it  over." 

Hat  tat. 

"  I  am  afraid  that 's  not  a  London  knock,"  thought  Tom.  "  "  It 
didn't  sound  bold.  Perhaps  that 's  the  reason  why  nobody  answers  the 
door." 

It  is  quite  certain  that  nobody  came,  and  that  Tom  stood  looking  at  the 
knocker  :  wondering  whereabouts  in  the  neighbourhood  a  certain  gentle- 
man resided,  who  was  roaring  out  to  somebody  "Come  in  !"  with  all  his 
might. 

"  Bless  my  soul !"  thought  Tom  at  last.  "  Perhaps  he  lives  here,  and 
is  calling  to  me.  I  never  thought  of  that.  Can  I  open  the  door  from 
the  outside,  I  wonder.     Yes,  to  be  sure  I  can." 

To  be  sure  he  could,  by  turning  the  handle  :  and  to  be  sure  when  he 
did  turn  it,  the  same  voice  came  rushing  out,  crying  "  Why  don't  you 
come  in  ?  Come  in,  do  you  hear  1  What  are  you  standing  there  for  ^" 
quite  violently. 

Tom  stepped  from  the  little  passage  into  the  room  from  which  these 
sounds  proceeded,  and  had  barely  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  gentleman  in  a 
dressing-gown  and  slippers  (with  his  boots  beside  him  ready  to  put  on), 
sitting  at  his  breakfast  with  a  newspaper  in  his  hand,  when  the  said 
gentleman,  at  the  imminent  hazard  of  oversetting  his  tea  table,  made  a 
plunge  at  Tom,  and  hugged  him. 

"  Why,  Tom  my  boy  !"  cried  the  gentleman.     "Tom  !" 

"  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  Mr.  Westlock  !"  said  Tom  Pinch,  shak- 
ing both  his  hands,  and  trembling  more  than  ever.  "  How  kind 
you  are  !" 

"  Mr.  Westlock  1 "  repeated  John,  "  what  do  you  mean  by  that.  Pinch  1 
You  have  not  forgotten  my  Christian  name,  I  suppose?" 

"  No  John,  no.  I  have  not  forgotten  it,"  said  Thomas  Pinch.  "  Good 
gracious  me,  how  kind  you  are  ! " 

"  I  never  saw  such  a  fellow  in  all  my  life  !"  cried  John.  "  What  do 
you  mean  by  saying  that  over  and  over  again  1  What  did  you  expect 
me  to  be,  I  wonder  !  Here,  sit  down  Tom,  and  be  a  reasonable  creature. 
How  are  you,  my  boy.     I  am  delighted  to  see  you  !" 

"  And  I  am  delighted  to  see  ?/o?^"  said  Tom. 

"  It 's  mutual  of  course,"  returned  John.     '■'  It  always  was,  I  hope. 


424  LIFE   AND   ADVENTUEES    OF 

If  I  had  known  you  liad  been  coming,  Tom,  I  would  liave  had  some- 
thing for  breakfast.  I  would  rather  have  such  a  surprise  than  the  best 
breakfast  in  the  world,  myself;  but  yours  is  another  case,  and  I  have 
no  doubt  you  are  as  hungry  as  a  hunter.  You  must  make  out  as  well 
as  you  can,  Tom,  and  we  11  recompense  ourselves  at  dinner  time.  You 
take  sugar  I  know  :  I  recollect  the  sugar  at  Pecksniff's.  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 
How  is  Pecksniff  ?  When  did  you  come  to  town  1  Do  begin  at  some- 
thing or  other,  Tom.  There  are  only  scraps  here,  but  they  are  not  at 
all  bad.  Boar's  Head  potted.  Try  it,  Tom  !  Make  a  beginning  what- 
ever you  do.     What  an  old  Blade  you  are !     I  am  delighted  to  see 

you."_ 

While  he  delivered  himself  of  these  words  in  a  state  of  great  commo- 
tion, John  was  constantly  running  backwards  and  forwards  to  and  from 
the  closet,  bringing  out  all  sorts  of  things  in  pots,  scooping  extraordinary 
quantities  of  tea  out  of  the  caddy,  dropping  French  rolls  into  his  boots, 
pouring  hot  water  over  the  butter,  and  making  a  variety  of  similar 
mistakes  without  disconcerting  himself  in  the  least. 

"There  !"  said  John,  sitting  down  for  the  fiftieth  time,  and  instantly 
starting  up  again  to  make  some  other  addition  to  the  breakfast.  "  Now 
we  are  as  well  off  as  we  are  likely  to  be  'till  dinner.  And  now  let  us 
have  the  news  Tom.     Imprimis,  how's  Pecksniff?" 

"  I  don't  know  how  he  is,"  was  Tom's  grave  answer. 

John  Westlock  put  the  teapot  down,  and  looked  at  him,  in  astonish- 
ment. 

"  I  don't  know  how  he  is,"  said  Thomas  Pinch  ;  "  and  saving  that  I 
wish  him  no  ill,  I  don't  care.  I  have  left  him,  John.  I  have  left  him 
for  ever." 

"Voluntarily?" 

"Why  no,  for  he  dismissed  me.  But  I  had  first  found  out  that 
I  was  mistaken  in  him ;  and  I  could  not  have  remained  with  him 
under  any  circumstances.  I  grieve  to  say  that  you  were  right  in  your 
estimate  of  his  character,  it  may  be  a  ridiculous  weakness,  John, 
but  it  has  been  very  painful  and  bitter  to  me  to  find  this  out,  I  do 
assure  you." 

Tom  had  no  need  to  direct  that  appealing  look  towards  his  friend,  in 
mild  and  gentle  deprecation  of  his  answering  with  a  laugh.  John 
Westlock  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  striking  him  down  upon  the 
floor. 

"It  was  all  a  dream  of  mine,"  said  Tom,  "and  it  is  over.  I'll  tell 
you  how  it  happened,  at  some  other  time.  Bear  v/ith  my  folly,  John. 
I  do  not,  just  now,  like  to  think  or  speak  about  it." 

"  I  swear  to  you,  Tom,"  returned  his  friend,  with  great  earnestness  of 
manner,  after  remaining  silent  for  a  few  moments,  "  that  when  I  see,  as 
I  do  now,  how  deeply  you  feel  this,  I  don't  know  whether  to  be  glad  or 
sorry,  that  you  have  made  the  discovery  at  last.  I  reproach  myself 
with  the  thought  that  I  ever  jested  on  the  subject ;  I  ought  to  have 
known  better." 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Tom,  extending  his  hand,  "  it  is  very  generous 
and  gallant  in  you  to  receive  me  and  my  disclosure  in  this  spirit ;  it 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  425 

makes  me  blusH  to  think  that  I  should  have  felt  a  moment's  uneasiness 
as  I  came  along.  You  can't  think  what  a  weight  is  lifted  off  my 
mind,"  said  Tom,  taking  up  his  knife  and  fork  again,  and  looking  very 
cheerful.     "  I  shall  punish  the  Boar's  Head  dreadfully." 

The  host,  thus  reminded  of  his  duties,  instantly  betook  himself  to 
piling  up  all  kinds  of  irreconcilable  and  contradictory  viands  in  Tom's 
plate,  and  a  very  capital  breakfast  Tom  made,  and  very  much  the  better 
for  it,  Tom  felt. 

"  That 's  all  right,"  said  John,  after  contemplating  his  visitor's  pro- 
ceedings, with  infinite  satisfaction.  "  Now,  about  our  plans.  You  are 
going  to  stay  with  me,  of  course.     Where  's  your  box  V 

"  It 's  at  the  Inn,"  said  Tom.     "  I  did'nt  intend ." 

"  Never  mind  what  you  didn't  intend,"  John  Westlock  interposed. 
"What  you  did  intend  is  more  to  the  purpose.  You  intended,  in 
coming  here,  to  ask  my  advice,  did  you  not  Tom  ?" 

"Certainly." 

"  And  to  take  it  when  I  gave  it  to  you  ?" 

"Yes,"  rejoined  Tom,  smiling,  "  if  it  were  good  advice,  which,  being 
yours,  I  have  no  doubt  it  will  be." 

"  Very  well.  Then  don't  be  an  obstinate  old  humbug  in  the  outset, 
Tom,  or  I  shall  shut  up  shop  and  dispense  none  of  that  invaluable 
commodity.  You  are  on  a  visit  to  me.  I  wish  I  had  an  organ  for  you, 
Tom ! " 

"  So  do  the  gentlemen  down  stairs,  and  the  gentlemen  overhead,  I 
have  no  doubt,"  was  Tom's  reply. 

"  Let  me  see.  In  the  first  place,  you  will  wish  to  see  your  sister  this 
morning,"  pursued  his  friend,  "  and  of  course  you  will  like  to  go  there 
alone.  I  '11  Avalk  part  of  the  way  with  you  ;  and  see  about  a  little 
business  of  my  own,  and  meet  you  here  again  in  the  afternoon.  Put 
that  in  your  pocket,  Tom.  It 's  only  the  key  of  the  door.  If  you  come 
home  first,  you  '11  want  it." 

"  Really,"  said  Tom,  "  quartering  one's  self  upon  a  friend  in  this 
way  — " 

"  Why,  there  are  two  keys,"  interposed  John  Westlock.  "  I  can't  open 
the  door  with  them  both  at  once,  can  I  ?  What  a  ridiculous  fellow  you 
are,  Tom  !     Nothing  particular  you  'd  like  for  dinner,  is  there  ?  " 

"Oh  dear  no,"  said  Tom. 

"  Very  well,  then  you  may  as  well  leave  it  to  me.  Have  a  glass  of 
cherry  brandy,  Tom  1 " 

"  Not  a  drop  !  What  remarkable  chambers  these  are  !  "  said  Pinch, 
"  there 's  everything  in  'em  !  " 

"  Bless  your  soul,  Tom,  nothing  but  a  few  little  bachelor  contrivances  ! 
the  sort  of  improptu  arrangements  that  might  have  suggested  themselves 
to  Philip  Quarll  or  Robinson  Crusoe  :  that 's  all.  What  do  you  say  ? 
Shall  we  walk  ? " 

"  By  all  means,"  cried  Tom.     "  As  soon  as  you  like." 

Accordingly,  John  Westlock  took  the  French  rolls  out  of  his  boots, 
and  put  his  boots  on,  and  dressed  himself :  giving  Tom  the  paper  to 


4:26  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

read  in  the  meanwhile.     When  he  returned,  equipped  for  walking,  he 
found  Tom  in  a  brown  study,  with  the  paper  in  his  hand. 

"  Dreaming,  Tom  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Pinch,  "  No.  I  have  been  looking  over  the  advertising 
sheet,  thinking  there  might  be  something  in  it,  which  would  be  likely 
to  suit  me.  But,  as  I  often  think,  the  strange  thing  seems  to  be  that 
nobody  is  suited.  Here  are  all  kinds  of  employers  wanting  all  sorts  of 
servants,  and  all  sorts  of  servants  wanting  all  kinds  of  employers,  and 
they  never  seem  to  come  together.  Here  is  a  gentleman  in  a  public 
office  in  a  position  of  temporary  difficulty,  who  wants  to  borrow  five 
hundred  pounds ;  and  in  the  very  next  advertisement  here  is  another 
gentleman  who  has  got  exactly  that  sum  to  lend.  But  he  '11  never  lend 
it  to  him,  John,  you  '11  find.  Here  is  a  lady  possessing  a  moderate 
independence,  who  wants  to  board  and  lodge  with  a  quiet,  cheerful 
family ;  and  here  is  a  family  describing  themselves  in  those  very  words, 
*  a  quiet  cheerful  family,'  who  want  exactly  such  a  lady  to  come  and  live 
with  them.  But  she  '11  never  go,  John.  Neither  do  any  of  these  single 
gentlemen  who  want  an  airy  bedroom,  with  the  occasional  use  of  a  parlour, 
ever  appear  to  come  to  terms  with  these  other  people  who  live  in  a  rural 
situation,  remarkable  for  its  bracing  atmosphere,  within  five  minutes' 
walk  of  the  Koyal  Exchange.  Even  those  letters  of  the  alphabet,  who  are 
always  running  away  from  their  friends  and  being  entreated  at  the  tops 
of  columns  to  come  back,  never  do  come  back,  if  we  may  judge  from  the 
number  of  times  they  are  asked  to  do  it,  and  don't.  It  really  seems," 
said  Tom,  relinquishing  the  paper,  with  a  thoughtful  sigh,  "  as  if  people 
had  the  same  gratification  in  printing  their  complaints  as  in  making 
them  known  by  word  of  mouth ;  as  if  they  found  it  a  comfort  and  con- 
solation to  proclaim  '  I  want  such  and  such  a  thing,  and  I  can't  get  it, 
and  I  don't  expect  I  ever  shall ! '  " 

John  Westlock  laughed  at  the  idea,  and  they  went  out  together.  So 
many  years  had  passed  since  Tom  was  last  in  London,  and  he  had  known 
so  little  of  it  then,  that  his  interest  in  all  he  saw  was  very  great.  He  was 
particularly  anxious,  among  other  notorious  localities,  to  have  those 
streets  pointed  out  to  him  which  were  appropriated  to  the  slaughter  of 
countrymen ;  and  was  quite  disappointed  to  find,  after  half-an-hour's 
walking,  that  he  had'nt  had  his  pocket  picked.  But  on  John  Westlock's 
inventing  a  pickpocket  for  his  gratification,  and  pointing  out  a  highly 
respectable  stranger  as  one  of  that  fraternity,  he  was  much  delighted. 

His  friend  accompanied  him  to  within  a  short  distance  of  Camberwell, 
and  having  put  him  beyond  the  possibility  of  mistaking  the  wealthy 
brass-and-copper  founder's,  left  him  to  make  his  visit.  Arriving  before 
the  great  bell-handle,  Tom  gave  it  a  gentle  pull.     The  porter  appeared. 

"  Pray  does  Miss  Pinch  live  here  % "  said  Tom. 

"  Miss  Pinch  is  Governess  here,"  replied  the  porter. 

At  the  same  time  he  looked  at  Tom  from  head  to  foot,  as  if  he  would 
have  said,  '  You  are  a  nice  man,  yo7i  are  ;  where  did  you  com.e  from  ! ' 

"  It 's  the  same  young  lady,"  said  Tom.  "  It 's  quite  right.  Is  she 
at  home  ?  " 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  4:27 

"  I  don't  know,  I  'm  sure,"  rejoined  the  porter. 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  have  the  goodness  to  ascertain  ? "  said  Tom. 
He  had  quite  a  delicacy  in  offering  the  suggestion,  for  the  possibility  of 
such  a  step  did  not  appear  to  present  itself  to  the  porter's  mind  at  all. 

The  fact  was  that  the  porter  in  answering  the  gate-bell  had,  according 
to  usage,  rung  the  house-bell  (for  it  is  as  well  to  do  these  things  in  the 
Baronial  style  while  you  are  about  it),  and  that  there  the  functions  of 
his  office  had  ceased.  Being  hired  to  open  and  shut  the  gate,  and  not 
to  explain  himself  to  strangers,  he  left  this  little  incident  to  be  deve- 
loped by  the  footman  with  the  tags,  vrho,  at  this  juncture,  called  out 
from  the  door  steps  : 

"  Hollo,  there  !  wot  are  you  up  to  !     This  way,  young  man  !  " 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Tom,  hurrying  towards  him.  "  I  did'nt  observe  that 
there  was  anybody  else.     Pray  is  Miss  Pinch  at  home  1 " 

"  She  's  in,"  replied  the  footman.  As  much  as  to  say  to  Tom  :  '  But 
if  you  think  she  has  anything  to  do  with  the  proprietorship  of  this 
place,  you  had  better  abandon  that  idea.' 

"  I  wish  to  see  her  if  you  please,"  said  Tom. 

The  footman  being  a  lively  young  man,  happened  to  have  his  atten- 
tion caught  at  that  moment  by  the  flight  of  a  pigeon,  in  which  he  took 
so  warm  an  interest,  that  his  gaze  was  rivetted  on  the  bird  until  it  was 
quite  out  of  sight.  He  then  invited  Tom  to  come  in,  and  showed  him 
into  a  parlour. 

"  Hany  neem  1 "  said  the  young  man,  pausing  languidly  at  the 
door. 

It  was  a  good  thought :  because  without  providing  the  stranger,  in  case 
he  should  happen  to  be  of  a  warm  temper,  with  a  sufficient  excuse  for 
knocking  him  down,  it  implied  this  young  man's  estimate  of  his  quality, 
and  relieved  his  breast  of  the  oppressive  burden  of  rating  him  in  secret 
as  a  nameless  and  obscure  individual. 

"  Say  her  brother,  if  you  please,"  said  Tom. 

"  Mother  ? "  drawled  the  footman. 

"Brother,"  repeated  Tom,  slightly  raising  his  voice.  "And  if  you 
will  say,  in  the  first  instance,  a  gentleman,  and  then  say  her  brother,  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  you,  as  she  does  not  expect  ine,  or  know  I  am  in 
London,  and  I  do  not  wish  to  startle  her." 

The  young  man's  interest  in  Tom's  observations  had  ceased  long 
before  this  time,  but  he  kindly  waited  until  now  ;  when  shutting  the 
door,  he  withdrew. 

"  Dear  me  ! "  said  Tom.  "  This  is  very  disrespectful  and  uncivil 
behaviour.  I  hope  these  are  new  s^ervants  here,  and  that  Kuth  is  very 
differently  treated." 

His  cogitations  were  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  voices  in  the 
adjoining  room.  They  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  high  dispute,  or  in 
indignant  reprimand  of  some  offender  ;  and  gathering  strength  occa- 
sionally, broke  out  into  a  perfect  whirlwind.  It  was  in  one  of  these 
gusts,  as  it  appeared  to  Tom,  that  the  footman  announced  him ;  for  an 
abrupt  and  unnatural  calm  took  place,  and  then  a  dead  silence.  He 
was  standing  before  the  window,  wondering  what  domestic  c|uarrel  might 


428  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

have  caused  these  sounds,  and  hoping  Ruth  had  nothing  to  do  with  it, 
when  the  door  opened,  and  his  sister  ran  into  his  arms. 

"  Why.  bless  my  soul  !  "  said  Tom,  looking  at  her  with  great  pride, 
when  they  had  tenderly  embraced  each  other,  "  how  altered  you  are, 
Kuth  !  I  should  scarcely  have  known  you,  my  love,  if  I  had  seen  you 
anywhere  else,  I  declare  !  You  are  so  improved,"  said  Tom,  with  inex- 
pressible delight  :  "  you  are  so  womanly  ;  you  are  so — positively,  you 
know,  you  are  so  handsome  !  " 

"  li  ?/oic  think  so,  Tom — " 

"  Oh,  but  everybody  must  think  so,  you  know,"  said  Tom,  gently 
smoothing  down  her  hair.  "  It 's  matter  of  fact ;  not  opinion.  But 
what 's  the  matter  V  said  Tom,  look  at  her  more  intently,  "  how  flushed 
you  are  !  and  you  have  been  crying." 

"  No,  I  have  not,  Tom." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  her  brother  stoutly.  "  That 's  a  story.  Don't  tell 
me  !  I  know  better.  What  is  it,  dear  ?  I  'm  not  with  Mr.  Pecksniff 
now  ;  I  am  going  to  try  and  settle  myself  in  London  ;  and  if  you  are 
not  happy  here  (as  I  very  much  fear  you  are  not,  for  I  begin  to  think 
you  have  been  deceiving  me  with  the  kindest  and  most  affectionate 
intention)  you  shall  not  remain  here." 

Oh  !  Tom's  blood  was  rising ;  mind  that.  Perhaps  the  Boar's  Head 
had  something  to  do  with  it,  but  certainly  the  footman  had.  So  had 
the  sight  of  his  pretty  sister — a  great  deal  to  do  with  it.  Tom  could 
bear  a  good  deal  himself,  but  he  was  proud  of  her,  and  pride  is  a 
sensitive  thing.  He  began  to  think,  "  there  are  more  Pecksniff's  than 
one,  perhaps,"  and  by  all  the  pins  and  needles  that  run  up  and  down 
in  angry  veins,  Tom  was  in  a  most  unusual  tingle  all  at  once. 

"  We  will  talk  about  it,  Tom,"  said  Ruth,  giving  him  another  kiss  to 
pacify  him.     "  I  am  afraid  I  cannot  stay  here." 

"  Cannot ! "  replied  Tom.  "  Why  then,  you  shall  not,  my  love. 
Heyday  !     You  are  not  an  object  of  charity  !     Upon  my  word  !  " 

Tom  was  stopped  in  these  exclamations  by  the  footman,  who  brought 
a  message  from  his  master,  importing  that  he  wished  to  speak  with  him 
before  he  went,  and  with  Miss  Pinch  also. 

"  Show  the  way,"  said  Tom.     "  I'll  wait  upon  him  at  once." 

Accordingly  they  entered  the  adjoining  room  from  which  the  noise  of 
altercation  had  proceeded  ;  and  there  they  found  a  middle-aged  gentle- 
man, with  a  pompous  voice  and  manner,  and  a  middle-aged  lady,  with 
what  may  be  termed  an  exciseable  face,  or  one  in  which  starch  and 
vinegar  were  decidedly  employed.  There  was  likewise  present  that 
eldest  pupil  of  Miss  Pinch,  whom  Mrs.  Todgers,  on  a  previous  occasion, 
had  called  a  syrup,  and  who  was  now  weeping  and  sobbing  spitefully. 

"  My  brother,  sir,"  said  Ruth  Pinch,  timidly  presenting  Tom. 

"Oh  !"  cried  the  gentleman,  surveying  Tom  attentively.  "  You  really 
are  Miss  Pinch's  brother,  I  presume  1  You  will  excuse  my  asking.  1 
don't  observe  any  resemblance." 

"  Miss  Pinch  has  a  brother,  I  know,"  observed  the  lady. 

"  Miss  Pinch  is  always  talking  about  her  brother,  when  she  ought  to 
be  engaged  upon  my  education,"  sobbed  the  pupil. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  429 

"  Sophia  !  Hold  your  tongue  !  "  observed  the  gentleman.  "  Sit  down, 
if  you  please,"  addressing  Tom. 

Tom  sat  down,  looking  from  one  face  to  another,  in  mute  surprise. 

"Remain  here,  if  you  please,  Miss  Pinch,"'  pursued  the  gentleman, 
looking  slightly  over  his  shoulder. 

Tom  interrupted  him  here,  by  rising  to  place  a  chair  for  his  sister. 
Having  done  which,  he  sat  down  again. 

"  I  am  glad  you  chance  to  have  called  to  see  your  sister  to-day,  sir," 
resumed  the  brass  and  copper  founder.  "  For  although  I  do  not  approve, 
as  a  principle,  of  any  young  person  engaged  in  my  family,  in  the  capacity 
of  a  governess,  receiving  visitors,  it  happens  in  this  case  to  be  well-timed. 
I  am  sorry  to  inform  you  that  we  are  not  at  all  satisfied  with  your  sister." 

"  We  are  very  much  o'/ssatisfied  with  her,"  observed  the  lady. 

"  I  'd  never  say  another  lesson  to  Miss  Pinch  if  I  was  to  be  beat  to 
death  for  it !  "  sobbed  the  pupil. 

"  Sophia  !  "  cried  her  father.     "  Plold  your  tongue  !  " 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  inquire  what  your  ground  of  dissatisfaction  is  ?" 
asked  Tom. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  gentleman,  "  I  will.  I  don't  recognise  it  as  a  right ; 
but  I  will.  Your  sister  has  not  the  slightest  innate  power  of  command- 
ing respect.  It  has  been  a  constant  source  of  difference  between  us. 
Although  she  has  been  in  this  family  for  some  time,  and  although  the 
young  lady  who  is  now  present,  has  almost,  as  it  were,  grown  up  under 
her  tuition,  that  young  lady  has  no  respect  for  her.  Miss  Pinch  has 
been  perfectly  unable  to  command  my  daughter's  respect,  or  to  win  my 
daughter's  confidence.  Now,"  said  the  gentleman,  allowing  the  palm  of 
his  hand  to  fall  gravely  down  upon  the  table  :  "  I  maintain  that  there  is 
something  radically  wrong  in  that !  You,  as  her  brother,  may  be 
disposed  to  deny  it — " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  said  Tom.  "lam  not  at  all  disposed  to 
deny  it.  I  am  sure  that  there  is  something  radically  wrong  :  radically 
monstrous  :  in  that." 

"  Good  Heavens  !  "  cried  the  gentleman,  looking  round  the  room  with 
dignity,  "  what  do  I  find  to  be  the  case  !  what  results  obtrude  them- 
selves upon  me  as  flowing  from  this  weakness  of  character  on  the  part  of 
Miss  Pinch  !  W^hat  are  my  feelings  as  a  father,  when,  after  my  desire 
(repeatedly  expressed  to  Miss  Pinch,  as  I  think  she  will  not  venture 
to  deny)  that  my  daughter  should  be  choice  in  her  expressions,  genteel 
in  her  deportment,  as  becomes  her  station  in  life,  and  politely  distant  to 
her  inferiors  in  society,  I  find  her,  only  this  very  morning,  addressing 
Miss  Pinch  herself,  as  a  beggar  !  " 

"  A  beggarly  thing,"  observed  the  lady,  in  correction. 

"  Which  is  worse,"  said  the  gentleman,  triumphantly  ;  "  which  is 
worse.     A  beggarly  thing !     A  low,  coarse,  despicable  expression  !  " 

"  Most  despicable,"  cried  Tom.  "  I  am  glad  to  find  that  there  is  a 
just  appreciation  of  it  here." 

"  So  just,  sir,"  said  the  gentleman,  lowering  his  voice  to  be  the  more 
impressive.  "So  just,  that,  but  for  my  knowing  Miss  Pinch  to  be  an 
unprotected  young  person,  an  orphan,  and  without  friends,  I  would,  as 


430  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

I  assured  Miss  Pinch,  upon  my  veracity  and  personal  character,  a  few 
minutes  ago,  I  would  have  severed  the  connection  between  us  at  that 
moment  and  from  that  time." 

"Bless  my  soul,  sir!"  cried  Tom,  rising  from  his  seat;  for  he  was 
now  unable  to  contain  himself  any  longer  ;  "  don't  allow  such  considera- 
tions as  those  to  influence  you,  pray.  They  don't  exist,  sir.  She  is 
not  unprotected.  She  is  ready  to  depart  this  instant.  Ruth,  my  dear, 
get  your  bonnet  on  !  " 

"  Oh,  a  pretty  family ! "  cried  the  lady.  "  Oh,  he 's  her  brother  ! 
There  's  no  doubt  about  that !  " 

"  As  little  doubt,  madam,"  said  Tom,  "  as  that  the  young  lady  yonder 
is  the  child  of  your  teaching,  and  not  my  sister's.  Ruth,  my  dear,  get 
your  bonnet  on  ! " 

"  When  you  say,  young  man,"  interposed  the  brass-and-copper  founder, 
haughtily,  "  with  that  impertinence  which  is  natural  to  you,  and  which 
I  therefore  do  not  condescend  to  notice  further,  that  the  young  lady,  my 
eldest  daughter,  has  been  educated  by  any  one  but  Miss  Pinch,  you — I 
needn't  proceed.  You  comprehend  me  fully.  I  have  no  doubt  you 
are  used  to  it." 

"  Sir ! "  cried  Tom,  after  regarding  him  in  silence  for  some  little 
time.  "  If  you  do  not  understand  what  I  mean,  I  will  tell  you.  If 
you  do  understand  what  I  mean,  I  beg  you  not  to  repeat  that  mode  of 
expressing  yourself  in  answer  to  it.  My  meaning  is,  that  no  man  can 
expect  his  children  to  respect  what  he  degrades." 

"  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  "  laughed  the  gentleman.  ."  Cant !  cant !  The  common 
cant!" 

"  The  common  story,  sir!"  said  Tom  ;  "  the  story  of  a  common  mind. 
Your  governess  cannot  win  the  confidence  and  respect  of  your  children, 
forsooth  !    Let  her  begin  by  winning  yours,  and  see  what  happens  then." 

"Miss  Pinch  is  getting  her  bonnet  on,  I  trust,  my  dear  ?  "  said  the 
gentleman. 

"  I  trust  she  is,"  said  Tom,  forestalling  the  reply.  "  I  have  no  doubt 
she  is.  In  the  meantime,  I  address  myself  to  you,  sir.  You  made  your 
statement  to  me,  sir ;  you  required  to  see  me  for  that  purpose  ;  and  I 
have  a  right  to  answer  it.  I  am  not  loud  or  turbulent,"  said  Tom, 
which  was  quite  true,  "  though  I  can  scarcely  say  as  much  for  you,  in 
your  manner  of  addressing  yourself  to  me.  And  I  wish,  on  my  sister's 
behalf,  to  state  the  simple  truth." 

"  You  may  state  anything  you  like,  young  man,"  returned  the  gentle- 
man, affecting  to  yawn.     "  My  dear  !     Miss  Pinch's  money." 

"  When  you  tell  me,"  resumed  Tom,  who  was  not  the  less  indignant 
for  keeping  himself  quiet,  "  that  my  sister  has  no  innate  power  of  com- 
manding the  respect  of  your  children,  I  must  tell  you  it  is  not  so  ;  and 
that  she  has.  She  is  as  well  bred,  as  well  taught,  as  well  qualified  by 
nature  to  command  respect,  as  any  hirer  of  a  governess  you  know.  But 
when  you  place  her  at  a  disadvantage  in  reference  to  every  servant  in 
your  house,  how  can  you  suppose,  if  you  have  the  gift  of  common  sense, 
that  she  is  not  in  a  tenfold  worse  position  in  reference  to  your 
daughters  ? " 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  431 

"  Pretty  well  !  Upon  my  word,"  exclaimed  the  gentleman,  "  this  is 
pretty  well !" 

"  It  is  very  ill,  sir,"  said  Tom.  "  It  is  very  bad  and  mean,  and  wrong 
and  cruel.  Respect !  I  believe  young  people  are  quick  enough  to  observe 
and  imitate  ;  and  why  or  how  should  they  respeco  whom  no  one  else 
respects,  and  everybody  slights  1  And  very  partial  they  must  grow  : 
oh,  very  partial :  to  their  studies,  when  they  see  to  what  a  pass  profi- 
ciency in  those  same  tasks  has  brought  their  governess  !  Respect !  Put 
anything  the  most  deserving  of  respect  before  your  daughters  in  the 
light  in  which  you  place  her,  and  you  will  bring  it  down  as  low,  no 
matter  what  it  is  {  " 

"  You  speak  with  extreme  impertinence,  young  man,"  observed  the 
gentleman. 

"  I  speak  without  passion,  but  with  extreme  indignation  and  contempt 
for  such  a  course  of  treatment,  and  for  all  who  practise  it,"  said  Tom. 
"  Why,  how  can  you,  as  an  honest  gentleman,  profess  displeasure  or  sur- 
prise, at  your  daughter  telling  my  sister  she  is  something  beggarly  and 
humble,  when  you  are  for  ever  telling  her  the  same  thing  yourself  in 
fifty  plain,  out-speaking  ways,  though  not  in  words  ;  and  when  your  very 
porter  and  footman  make  the  same  delicate  announcment  to  all  comers  1 
As  to  your  suspicion  and  distrust  of  her  :  even  of  her  word  :  if  she  is 
not  above  their  reach,  you  have  no  right  to  employ  her." 

"  No  right !  "  cried  the  brass-and-copper  founder. 

"  Distinctly  not,"  Tom  answered.  "  If  you  imagine  that  the  payment 
of  an  annual  sum  of  money  gives  it  to  you,  you  immensely  exaggerate 
its  power  and  value.  Your  money  is  the  least  part  of  your  bargain  in 
such  a  case.  You  may  be  punctual  in  that  to  half  a  second  on  the  clock, 
and  yet  be  Bankrupt.  I  have  nothing  more  to  say,"  said  Tom,  much 
flushed  and  flustered,  now  that  it  was  over,  "  except  to  crave  permission 
to  stand  in  your  garden  until  my  sister  is  ready." 

Not  waiting  to  obtain  it,  Tom  walked  out. 

Before  he  had  well  begun  to  cool,  his  sister  joined  him.  She  was 
crying ;  and  Tom  could  not  bear  that  any  one  about  the  house  should 
see  her  doing  that. 

"  They  will  think  you  are  sorry  to  go,"  said  Tom.  "  You  are  not 
sorry  to  go  ?" 

"  No,  Tom,  no.     I  have  been  anxious  to  go  for  a  very  long  time." 

"  Very  well,  then  !  Don't  cry  !"  said  Tom. 

"  I  am  so  sorry  for  ?/oii,  dear,"  sobbed  Tom's  sister. 

"  But  you  ought  to  be  glad  on  my  account,"  said  Tom.  "  I  shall  be 
twice  as  happy  with  you  for  a  companion.  Hold  up  your  head.  There  ! 
Now  we  go  out  as  we  ought.  Not  blustering,  you  know,  but  firm  and 
confident  in  ourselves." 

The  idea  of  Tom  and  his  sister  blustering,  under  any  circumstances, 
was  a  splendid  absurdity.  But  Tom  was  very  far  from  feeling  it  to  be 
so,  in  his  excitement ;  and  passed  out  at  the  gate  with  such  severe 
determination  written  in  his  face  that  the  porter  hardly  knew  him  again. 

It  was  not  until  they  had  walked  some  short  distance,  and  Tom  found 
himself  getting  cooler  and  more  collected,  that  he  was  quite  restored  to 


432  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

himself  by  an  inquiry,  from  his  sister,  who  said  in  her  pleasant  little 
voice  : 

"  Where  are  we  going,  Tom  ?" 

"Dear  me  !"  said  Tom,  stopping,  "  I  don't  know." 

"  Don't  you — don't  you  live  anywhere,  dear  ? "  asked  Tom's  sister, 
looking  wistfully  in  his  face. 

"  No,"  said  Tom.  "  Not  at  present.  Not  exactly.  I  only  arrived 
this  morning.     We  must  have  some  lodgings." 

He  didn't  tell  her  that  he  had  been  going  to  stay  with  his  friend 
John,  and  could  on  no  account  think  of  billeting  two  inmates  upon  him, 
of  whom  one  was  a  young  lady ;  for  he  knew  that  would  make  her  un- 
comfortable, and  would  cause  her  to  regard  herself  as  being  an  incon- 
venience to  him.  Neither  did  he  like  to  leave  her  anywhere  while  he 
called  on  John  and  told  him  of  this  change  in  his  arrangements  ;  for 
he  was  delicate  of  seeming  to  encroach  upon  the  generous  and  hospitable 
nature  of  his  friend.  Therefore  he  said  again,  "  We  must  have  some 
lodgings,  of  course  ;"  and  said  it  as  stoutly  as  if  he  had  been  a  perfect 
Directory  and  Guide-Book  to  all  the  lodgings  in  London. 

"  Where  shall  we  go  and  look  for  'em  ?"  said  Tom,  "  What  do  you 
think  r 

Tom's  sister  was  not  much  wiser  on  such  a  topic  than  he  was.  So  she 
squeezed  her  little  purse  into  his  coat-pocket,  and  folding  the  little  hand 
with  which  she  did  so  on  the  other  little  hand  with  which  she  clasped 
his  arm,  said  nothing. 

"  It  ought  to  be  a  cheap  neighbourhood,"  said  Tom,  "  and  not  too  far 
from  London.     Let  me  see.     Should  you  think  Islington  a  good  place  ?" 

"  I  should  think  it  was  an  excellent  place,  Tom." 

"  It  used  to  be  called  Merry  Islington,  once  upon  a  time,"  said  Tom. 
Perhaps  it 's  merry  now  ;  if  so,  it 's  all  the  better.     Eh  ?" 

"  If  it 's  not  too  dear,"  said  Tom's  sister. 

"  Of  course,  if  it 's  not  too  dear,"  assented  Tom.  "  Well,  where  is 
Islington  1   We  can't  do  better  than  go  there,  I  should  think.    Let 's  go  !" 

Tom's  sister  would  have  gone  anywhere  with  him ;  so  they  walked 
offj  arm  in  arm,  as  comfortably  as  possible.  Finding  presently  that 
Islington  was  not  in  that  neighbourhood,  Tom  made  inquiries  respecting 
a  public  conveyance  thither  :  which  they  soon  obtained.  As  they  rode 
along,  they  were  very  full  of  conversation  indeed,  Tom  relating  what  had 
happened  to  him,  and  Tom's  sister  relating  what  had  happened  to  her, 
and  both  finding  a  great  deal  more  to  say  than  time  to  say  it  in  :  for 
they  had  only  just  begun  to  talk,  in  comparison  with  what  they  had  to 
tell  each  other,  when  they  reached  their  journey's  end. 

"  Now,"  said  Tom,  "  we  must  first  look  out  for  some  very  unpretending 
streets,  and  then  look  out  for  bills  in  the  windows." 

So  they  walked  oiF  again,  quite  as  happily  as  if  they  had  just  stepped 
out  of  a  snug  little  house  of  their  own,  to  look  for  lodgings  on  account  of 
somebody  else.  Tom's  simplicity  was  unabated.  Heaven  knows  ;  but 
now  that  he  had  somebody  to  rely  upon  him,  he  was  stimulated  to 
rely  a  little  more  upon  himself,  and  vras,  in  his  own  opinion,  quite  a 
desperate  fellow. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  433 

After  roaming  up  and  down  for  hours,  looking  at  some  scores  of 
lodgings,  tliej  began  to  find  it  rather  fatiguing,  especially  as  they  saw 
none  which  were  at  all  adapted  to  their  pur23ose.  At  length,  however, 
in  a  singular  little  old-fashioned  house,  up  a  blind  street,  they  discovered 
two  small  bed-rooms  and  a  triangular  parlour,  which  promised  to  suit 
them  well  enough.  Their  desiring  to  take  possession  immediately  was 
a  suspicious  circumstance,  but  even  this  was  surmounted  by  the  pay- 
ment of  their  first  week's  rent,  and  a  reference  to  John  Westlock, 
Escjuire,  Furnival's  Inn,  High  Ilolborn. 

Ah  !  It  was  a  goodly  sight,  wdien  this  important  point  was  settled,  to 
behold  Tom  and  his  sister  trotting  round  to  the  baker's,  and  the  butcher's, 
and  the  grocer's,  with  a  kind  of  dreadful  delight  in  the  unaccustomed 
cares  of  housekeeping  ;  taking  secret  counsel  together  as  they  gave  their 
small  orders,  and  distracted  by  the  least  suggestion  on  the  part  of  the 
shopkeeper  !  When  they  got  back  to  the  triangular  parlour,  and  Tom's 
sister,  bustling  to  and  fro,  busy  about  a  thousand  pleasant  nothings, 
stopped  every  now  and  then  to  give  old  Tom  a  kiss,  or  smile  upon  him  ; 
Tom  rubbed  his  hands,  as  if  all  Islington  were  his. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  now,  though,  and  high  time  for  Tom  to 
keep  his  appointment.  So,  after  agreeing  with  his  sister  that  in  con- 
sideration of  not  having  dined,  they  would  venture  on  the  extravagance 
of  chops  for  supper  at  nine,  he  walked  out  again  to  narrate  these 
marvellous  occurrences  to  John. 

"  I  am  c[uite  a  family  man  all  at  once,"  thought  Tom.  "  If  I  can  only 
get  something  to  do,  how  comfortable  Ruth  and  I  may  be  !  Ah,  that  if ! 
But  it 's  of  no  use  to  despond.  I  can  but  do  that  when  I  have  tried 
everything  and  failed  ;  and  even  then  it  won't  serve  me  much.  Upon 
my  word,"  thought  Tom,  quickening  his  pace,  "  I  don't  know  what  John 
will  think  has  become  of  me.  He  '11  beoin  to  be  afraid  I  have  straved 
into  one  of  those  streets  where  the  countrymen  are  murdered  ;  and  that 
I  have  been  made  meat  pies  of,  or  some  horrible  thing. " 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 


TOM    PINCH,    GOING    ASTRAY,    FINDS   THAT     HE     IS    NOT    THE    ONLY     PERSON 
IN    THAT    PREDICAMENT.       HE    RETALIATES    UPON    A    FALLEN    FOE. 

Tom's  evil  genius  did  not  lead  him  into  the  dens  of  any  of  those 
preparers  of  cannibalic  pastry,  who  are  represented  in  many  standard 
country  legends,  as  doing  a  lively  retail  business  in  the  Metropolis ;  nor 
did  it  mark  him  out  as  the  prey  of  ring-droppers,  pea  and  thimble- 
riggers,  duffers,  touters,  or  any  of  those  bloodless  sharpers,  who  are,  per- 
haps, a  little  better  known  to  the  Police.  He  fell  into  conversation  ^vith 
no  gentleman,  who  took  him  into  a  public-house,  where  there  happened 
to  be  another  gentleman,  w^ho  swore  he  had  more  money  than  any  gen- 
tleman, and  very  soon  proved  he  had  more  money  than  one  gentleman, 
by  taking  his  away  from  him  :  neither  did  he  fall  into  any  other  of  the 

F  F 


434  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

numerous  man-traps  which  are  set  up,  without  notice,  in  the  public 
grounds  of  this  city.  But  he  lost  his  way.  He  very  soon  did  that ; 
and  in  trying  to  find  it  again,  he  lost  it  more  and  more. 

Now  Tom,  in  his  guileless  distrust  of  London,  thought  himself  very 
knowing  in  coming  to  the  determination  that  he  would  not  ask  to  be 
directed  to  Furnival's  Inn,  if  he  could  help  it ;  unless,  indeed,  he  should 
happen  to  find  himself  near  the  Mint,  or  the  Bank  of  England  ;  in  which 
case,  he  would  step  in,  and  ask  a  civil  question  or  two,  confiding  in  the 
perfect  respectability  of  the  concern.  So  on  he  went,  looking  up  all  the 
streets  he  came  near,  and  going  up  half  of  them ;  and  thus,  by  dint  of 
not  being  true  to  Goswell  Street,  and  filing  ofif  into  Aldermanbury,  and 
bewildering  himself  in  Barbican,  and  being  constant  to  the  wrong  point 
of  the  compass  in  London  Wall,  and  then  getting  himself  crosswise  into 
Thames  Street,  by  an  instinct  that  would  have  been  marvellous  if  he 
had  had  the  least  desire  or  reason  to  go  there,  he  found  himself,  at  last, 
hard  by  the  Monument. 

The  Man  in  the  Monument  was  quite  as  mysterious  a  being  to  Tom 
as  the  Man  in  the  Moon.  It  immediately  occurred  to  him  that  the 
lonely  creature  who  held  himself  aloof  from  all  mankind  in  that  pillar, 
like  some  old  hermit,  was  the  very  man  of  whom  to  ask  his  way. 
Cold,  he  might  be  ;  little  sympathy  he  had,  perhaps,  with  human 
passion — the  column  seemed  too  tall  for  that  ;  but  if  Truth  didn't  live 
in  the  base  of  the  Monument,  notwithstanding  Pope's  couplet  about 
the  outside  of  it^,  where  in  London  (Tom  thought)  was  she  likely  to 
be  found  ! 

Coming  close  below  the  pillar,  it  was  a  great  encouragement  to  Tom 
to  find  that  the  Man  in  the  Monument  had  simple  tastes  ;  that  stony  and 
artificial  as  his  residence  was,  he  still  preserved  some  rustic  recollec- 
tions ;  that  he  liked  plants,  hung  up  bird-cages,  was  not  wholly  cut  off 
from  fresh  groundsel,  and  kept  young  trees  in  tubs.  The  Man  in  the 
Monument,  himself,  was  sitting  outside  the  door — his  own  door  :  the 
Monument-door  :  what  a  grand  idea  ! — and  was  actually  yawning,  as  if 
there  were  no  Monument  to  stop  his  mouth,  and  give  him  a  perpetual 
interest  in  his  own  existence. 

Tom  was  advancing  towards  this  remarkable  creature,  to  inquire  the 
way  to  Furnival's  Inn,  when  two  people  came  to  see  the  Monument. 
They  were  a  gentleman  and  a  lady ;  and  the  gentleman  said,  "  How 
much  a-piece "? " 

The  Man  in  the  Monument  replied,  "  A  Tanner." 

It  seemed  a  low  expression,  compared  with  the  Monument. 

The  gentleman  put  a  shilling  into  his  hand,  and  the  Man  in  the 
Monument  opened  a  dark  little  door.  When  the  gentleman  and  lady  had 
passed  out  of  view,  he  shut  it  again,  and  came  slowly  back  to  his  chair. 

He  sat  doAvn  and  laughed. 

"  They  don't  know  what  a  many  steps  there  is  !  "  he  said.  It 's  worth 
twice  the  money  to  stop  here.     Oh,  my  eye  !  " 

The  Man  in  the  Monument  was  a  Cynic  ;  a  worldly  man  !  Tom 
couldn't  ask  his  way  of  him.  He  was  prepared  to  put  no  confidence  in 
anything  he  said. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  435 

"  My  Gracious  !  "  cried  a  well-known  voice  behind  Mr.  Pinch.  "  Whj, 
to  be  sure  it  is  !  " 

At  the  same  time  he  was  poked  in  the  back  by  a  parasol.  Turning 
round  to  inquire  into  this  salute,  he  beheld  the  eldest  daughter  of  his 
late  patron. 

"  Miss  Pecksniff  !"  said  Tom. 

"  Why,  my  goodness,  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  cried  Cherry.  "  What  are  you 
doing  here  1  " 

"  I  have  rather  wandered  from  my  way,"  said  Tom.     "  I — " 

"  I  hope  you  have  run  away,"  said  Charity.  "  It  would  be  quite 
spirited  and  proper  if  you  had,  when  my  Papa  so  far  forgets  himself." 

"  I  have  left  him,"  returned  Tom.  "  But  it  was  perfectly  understood 
on  both  sides.     It  was  not  done  clandestinely." 

"  Is  he  married  V  asked  Cherry,  with  a  spasmodic  shake  of  her  chin. 

"  No,  not  yet,"  said  Tom,  colouring  :  "  to  tell  you  the  truth,  I 
don't  think  he  is  likely  to  be,  if— if  Miss  Graham  is  the  object  of  his 
passion." 

"  Tcha,  Mr.  Pinch  ! "  cried  Charity,  with  sharp  impatience,  "  you  're 
very  easily  deceived.  You  don't  know  the  arts  of  which  such  a  creature 
is  capable.     Oh  !  it 's  a  wicked  world." 

"  You  are  not  married  ^"    Tom  hinted,  to  divert  the  conversation. 

"  No — no  ! "  said  Cherry,  tracing  out  one  particular  paving  stone  in 
Monument  Yard  with  the  end  of  her  parasol.  "  I — but  really  it 's  quite 
impossible  to  explain.     Won't  you  walk  in  ?" 

"  You  live  here,  then  ?"  said  Tom. 

"  Yes,  returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  pointing  with  her  parasol  to  Todgers's : 
*'  I  reside  with  this  lady,  at  present'' 

The  great  stress  on  the  two  last  words  suggested  to  Tom  that  he  was 
expected  to  say  something  in  reference  to  them.     So  he  said  : 

"  Only  at  present !     Are  you  going  home  again,  soon  ?" 

"No,  Mr.  Pinch,"  returned  Charity.  "No,  thank  you.  No!  A 
mother-in-law  who  is  younger  than — I  mean  to  say,  who  is  as  nearly  as 
possible  about  the  same  age  as  one's  self,  would  not  quite  suit  my  spirit. 
Not  quite  !"  said  Cherry,  with  a  spiteful  shiver. 

"  I  thought  from  your  saying  at  present" — Tom  observed. 

"  Really  upon  my  word  !  I  had  no  idea  you  would  press  me  so  very 
closely  on  the  subject,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Charity,  blushing,  "or  I  should 
not  have  been  so  foolish  as  to  allude  to — Oh  really ! — won't  you  walk  in  ?" 

Tom  mentioned,  to  excuse  himself,  that  he  had  an  appointment  in 
Furnival's  Inn,  and  that  coming  from  Islington  he  had  taken  a  few 
wrong  turnings,  and  arrived  at  the  Monument  instead.  Miss  Pecksniff 
simpered  very  much  when  he  asked  her  if  she  knew  the  way  to  Furnival's 
Inn,  and  at  length  found  courage  to  reply  : 

"  A  gentleman  who  is  a  friend  of  mine,  or  at  least  who  is  not  exactly 
a  friend  so  much  as  a  sort  of  acquaintance — Oh,  upon  my  word,  I  hardly 
know  what  I  say,  Mr.  Pinch  ;  you  must  n't  suppose  there  is  any  engage- 
ment between  us  ;  or  at  least  if  there  is,  that  it  is  at  all  a  settled  thing 
as  yet — is  going  to  Furnival's  Inn  immediately,  I  believe  upon  a  little 
business,  and  I  am  sure  he  would  be  very  glad  to  accompany  you,  so  as 

F  p2 


436  LIFE    AND    ADVENTUKES    OF 

to  prevent  your  going  wrong  again.  You  had  Letter  walk  in.  You  "will 
very  likely  find  my  sister  Merry  here/'  she  said,  with  a  curious  toss  of 
her  head,  and  anything  but  an  agreeable  smile. 

"  Then,  I  think,  1 11  endeavour  to  find  my  way  alone,"  said  Tom  ; 
"  for  I  fear  she  would  not  be  very  glad  to  see  me.  That  unfortunate 
occurrence,  in  relation  to  which  you  and  I  had  some  amicable  words 
together,  in  private,  is  not  likely  to  have  impressed  her  with  any  friendly 
feeling  towards  me.     Though  it  really  was  not  my  fault." 

"  She  has  never  heard  of  that,  you  may  depend,"  said  Cherry,  gather- 
ing up  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  and  nodding  at  Tom.  "  I  am  far  from 
sure  that  she  would  bear  you  any  mighty  ill  will  for  it,  if  she  had." 

"You  don't  say  so?"  cried  Tom,  who  was  really  concerned  by  this 
insinuation. 

"  I  say  nothing,"  said  Charity.  "  If  I  had  not  already  known  what 
shocking  things  treachery  and  deceit  are  in  themselves,  Mr.  Pinch,  I 
might  perhaps  have  learnt  it  from  the  success  they  meet  with — from  the 
success  they  meet  with."  Here  she  smiled  as  before.  "But  I  don't  say 
anything.    On  the  contrary,  I  should  scorn  it.    You  had  better  walk  in ! " 

There  was  something  hidden  here,  which  piqued  Tom's  interest  and 
troubled  his  tender  heart.  When,  in  a  moment's  irresolution  he  looked 
at  Charity,  he  could  not  but  observe  a  struggle  in  her  face  between  a 
sense  of  triumph  and  a  sense  of  shame  ;  nor  could  he  but  remark  how, 
meeting  even  his  eyes,  which  she  cared  so  little  for,  she  turned  away  her 
own,  for  all  the  splenetic  defiance  in  her  manner. 

An  uneasy  thought  entered  Tom's  head ;  a  shadowy  misgiving  that 
the  altered  relations  between  himself  and  Pecksniff,  were  somehow  to 
involve  an  altered  knowledge  on  his  part  of  other  people,  and  were  to 
give-  him  an  insight  into  much  of  which  he  had  had  no  previous 
suspicion.  And  yet  he  put  no  definite  construction  upon  Charity's 
proceedings.  He  certainly  had  no  idea  that  as  he  had  been  the  audience 
and  spectator  of  her  mortification,  she  grasped  with  eager  delight  at 
any  opportunity  of  reproaching  her  sister  with  his  presence  in  her  far 
deeper  misery  ;  for  he  knew  nothing  of  it,  and  only  pictured  that  sister 
as  the  same  giddy,  careless,  trivial  creature  she  always  had  been,  with 
the  same  slight  estimation  of  himself  which  she  had  never  been  at  the 
least  pains  to  conceal.  In  short,  he  had  merely  a  confused  impression 
that  Miss  Pecksniff  was  not  quite  sisterly  or  kind ;  and  being  curious 
to  set  it  right,  accompanied  her,  as  she  desired. 

The  house-door  being  opened,  she  went  in  before  Tom,  requesting 
him  to  follow  her ;  and  led  the  way  to  the  parlour  door. 

"  Oh,  Merry  ! "  she  said,  looking  in,  "  I  am  so  glad  you  have  not  gone 
home.  Who  do  you  think  I  have  met  in  the  street,  and  brought  to  see 
you  !     Mr.  Pinch  !     There.     Now  you  are  surprised,  I  am  sure  ! " 

Not  more  surprised  than  Tom  was,  when  he  looked  upon  her.  Not 
so  much.     Not  half  so  much. 

"  Mr.  Pinch  has  left  Papa,  my  dear,"  said  Cherry,  "  and  his  prospects 
are  quite  flourishing.  I  have  promised  that  Augustus,  who  is  going 
that  way,  shall  escort  him  to  the  place  he  wants.  Augustus,  my  child, 
where  are  you  %  " 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  437 

With  W'liicli  Miss  Pecksniff  screamed  out  of  the  parlour,  calling  on 
Augustus  Moddle  to  appear  ;  and  left  Tom  Pinch  alone  with  her. 

If  she  had  always  been  his  kindest  friend  ;  if  she  had  treated  him 
through  all  his  servitude  with  such  consideration  as  was  never  yet 
received  by  struggling  man  ;  if  she  had  lightened  every  moment  of 
those  many  years,  and  had  ever  spared  and  never  wounded  him  ;  his 
honest  heart  could  not  have  swelled  before  her  with  a  deeper  pity,  or  a 
purer  freedom  from  all  base  remembrance  than  it  did  then. 

"  My  gracious  me  !  You  are  really  the  last  person  in  the  world  I 
should  have  thought  of  seeing,  I  am  sure  ! " 

Tom  was  sorry  to  hear  her  speaking  in  her  old  manner.  lie  had 
not  expected  that.  Yet  he  did  not  feel  it  a  contradiction  that  he 
should  be  sorry  to  see  her  so  unlike  her  old  self,  and  sorry  at  the  same 
time  to  hear  her  speaking  in  her  old  manner.  The  two  things  seemed 
quite  natural. 

"  I  wonder  you  find  any  gratification  in  coming  to  see  me,  I  can't 
think  what  put  it  in  your  head.  I  never  had  much  in  seeing  you. 
There  was  no  love  lost  between  us,  Mr.  Pinch,  at  any  time,  I  think." 

Her  bonnet  lay  beside  her  on  the  sofa,  and  she  was  very  busy  M'ith 
the  ribbons  as  she  spoke.  Much  too  busy  to  be  conscious  of  the  work 
her  fingers  did. 

"  We  never  quarrelled,"  said  Tom. — Tom  was  right  in  that,  for  one 
person  can  no  more  quarrel  without  an  adversary,  than  one  person  can 
play  at  chess,  or  fight  a  duel.  "  I  hoped  you  would  be  glad  to  shake 
hands  with  an  old  friend.  Don't  let  us  rake  up  byegones,"  said  Tom. 
"  If  I  ever  offended  you,  forgive  me." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  moment  ;  dropped  her  bonnet  from  her 
hands  ;  spread  them  before  her  altered  face  ;  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Pinch  ! "  she  said,  "  although  I  never  used  you  well,  I 
did  believe  your  nature  was  forgiving.  I  did  not  think  you  could 
be  cruel." 

She  spoke  as  little  like  her  old  self  now,  for  certain,  as  Tom  could 
possibly  have  wished.  But  she  seemed  to  be  appealing  to  him  reproach- 
fully, and  he  did  not  understand  her. 

"  I  seldom  shewed  it — never — I  know  that.  But  I  had  that  belief 
in  you,  that  if  I  had  been  asked  to  name  the  person  in  the  world  least 
likely  to  retort  upon  me,  I  would  have  named  you,  confidently." 

"  Would  have  named  me  !  "  Tom  repeated. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  with  energy,  "  and  I  have  often  thought  so." 

After  a  moment's  reflection,  Tom  sat  himself  upon  a  chair  beside  her. 

"  Do  you  believe,"  said  Tom,  "  oh  can  you  think,  that  what  I  said 
just  now,  I  said  with  any  but  the  true  and  plain  intention  which  my 
words  professed  ?  I  mean  it,  in  the  spirit  and  the  letter.  If  I  ever 
offended  you,  forgive  me  ;  I  may  have  done  so,  many  times.  You 
never  injured  or  offended  me.  How,  then,  could  I  possibly  retort,  if 
even  I  were  stern  and  bad  enough  to  wish  to  do  it !  " 

After  a  little  while  she  thanked  him,  through  her  tears  and  sobs,  and 
told  him  she  had  never  been  at  once  so  sorry  and  so  comforted,  since  she 
left  home.     Still  she  wept  bitterly  ;  and  it  was  the  greater  pain  to 


438  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Tom  to  see  her  weeping,  from  her  standing  in  especial  need,  just  then, 
of  sympathy  and  tenderness. 

"  Come,  come  1 "  said  Tom,  "  you  used  to  be  as  cheerful  as  the  day 
was  long." 

"  Ah  !  used  !  "  she  cried,  in  such  a  tone  as  rent  Tom's  heart. 

"And  will  be  again,"  said  Tom. 

"  No,  never  more.  No,  never,  never  more.  If  you  should  talk  with 
old  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  at  any  time,"  she  added  looking  hurriedly  into 
his  face — "  I  sometimes  thought  he  liked  you,  but  suppressed  it — will 
you  [promise  me  to  tell  him  that  you  saw  me  here,  and  that  I  said  I 
bore  in  mind  the  time  we  talked  together  in  the  churchyard  1 " 

Tom  promised  that  he  would. 

"  Many  times  since  then,  when  I  have  wished  I  had  been  carried 
there  before  that  day,  I  have  recalled  his  words.  I  vv^ish  that  he  should 
know  how  true  they  were,  although  the  least  acknowledgment  to  that 
effect  has  never  passed  my  lips,  and  never  will." 

Tom  promised  this,  conditionally,  too.  He  did  not  tell  her  how 
improbable  it  was  that  he  and  the  old  man  would  ever  meet  again, 
because  he  thought  it  might  disturb  her  more. 

"  If  he  should  ever  know  this,  through  your  means,  dear  Mr.  Pinch," 
said  Mercy,  "  tell  him  that  I  sent  the  message,  not  for  myself,  but  that 
he  might  be  more  forbearing,  and  more  patient,  and  more  trustful  to 
some  other  person,  in  some  other  time  of  need.  Tell  him  that  if  he 
could  know  how  my  heart  trembled  in  the  balance  that  day,  and  what 
a  very  little  would  have  turned  the  scale,  his  own  would  bleed  with 
pity  for  me." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  Tom,  "  I  will." 

"  When  I  appeared  to  him  the  most  unworthy  of  his  help,  I  was — I 
know  I  was,  for  I  have  often,  often,  thought  about  it  since — the  most 
inclined  to  yield  to  what  he  showed  me.  Oh  !  If  he  had  relented  but  a 
little  more  ;  if  he  had  thrown  himself  in  my  way  for  but  one  other  quarter 
of  an  hour ;  if  he  had  extended  his  compassion  for  a  vain,  unthink- 
ing miserable  girl  in  but  the  least  degree ;  he  might,  and  I  believe  he 
would,  have  saved  her  !  Tell  him  that  I  don't  blame  him,  but  am  grate- 
ful for  the  effort  that  he  made ;  but  ask  him  for  the  love  of  God,  and 
youth,  and  in  a  merciful  consideration  for  the  struggle  which  an  ill- 
advised  and  unawakened  nature  makes  to  hide  the  strength  it  thinks 
its  weakness — ask  him  never  never  to  forget  this,  when  he  deals  with 
one  again  ! " 

Although  Tom  did  not  hold  the  clue  to  her  full  meaning,  he  could 
guess  it  pretty  nearly.  Touched  to  the  quick,  he  took  her  hand  and 
said,  or  meant  to  say,  some  words  of  consolation.  She  felt  and  under- 
stood them,  whether  they  were  spoken  or  no.  He  was  not  quite  certain 
afterwards  but  that  she  had  tried  to  kneel  down  at  his  feet,  and  bless  him. 

He  found  that  he  was  not  alone  in  the  room  when  she  had  left  it. 
Mrs.  Todgers  was  there,  shaking  her  head.  Tom  had  never  seen  Mrs. 
Todgers,  it  is  needless  to  say,  but  he  had  a  perception  of  her  being  the 
lady  of  the  house  ;  and  he  saw  some  genuine  compassion  in  her  eyes, 
that  won  his  good  opinion. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  439 

"  Ah,  sir  !     You  are  an  old  friend,  I  see,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers. 

"  Yes,"  said  Tom. 

"  And  yet,"  quoth  Mrs.  Todgers,  shutting  the  door  softly,  "  she 
hasn't  told  you  what  her  troubles  are,  I  'm  certain." 

Tom  was  struck  by  these  words,  for  the}'-  were  quite  true.  "  Indeed," 
he  said,  "  she  has  not." 

"  And  never  would,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  "  if  you  saw  her  daily.  She 
never  makes  the  least  complaint  to  me,  or  utters  a  single  word  of  expla- 
nation or  reproach.  But  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  drawing  in  her 
breath,  "  1  know  !  " 

Tom  nodded  sorrowfully,  "  so  do  I." 

"  I  fully  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  taking  her  pocket-handkerchief 
from  the  flat  reticule,  "  that  nobody  can  tell  one  half  of  what  that  poor 
young  creature  has  to  undergo.  But  though  she  comes  here,  constantly, 
to  ease  her  poor  full  heart  without  his  knowing  it  ;  and  saying,  '  Mrs. 
Todgers,  I  am  very  low  to-day ;  I  think  that  I  shall  soon  be  dead,'  sits 
crying  in  my  room  until  the  fit  is  past ;  I  know  no  more  from  her. 
And,  I  believe,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  putting  back  her  handkerchief 
again,  "  that  she  considers  me  a  good  friend  too." 

Mrs.  Todgers  might  have  said  her  best  friend.  Commercial  gentlemen 
and  gravy  had  tried  Mrs.  Todgers's  temper  ;  the  main  chance — it  was 
such  a  very  small  one  in  her  case,  that  she  might  have  been  excused  for 
looking  sharp  after  it,  lest  it  should  entirely  vanish  from  her  sight — had 
taken  a  firm  hold  on  ]\Irs.  Todgers's  attention.  But  in  some  odd  nook 
of  Mrs.  Todgers's  breast,  up  a  great  many  steps,  and  in  a  corner  easy  to 
be  overlooked,  there  was  a  secret  door,  with  'Woman'  written  on  the 
spring,  which  at  a  touch  from  Mercy's  hand  had  flown  wide  open,  and 
admitted  her  for  shelter. 

When  boarding-house  accounts  are  balanced  with  all  other  ledgers,  and 
the  books  of  the  Recording  Angel  are  made  up  for  ever,  perliaps  there 
may  be  seen  an  entry  to  thy  credit,  lean  Mrs.  Todgers,  which  shall 
make  thee  beautiful  ! 

She  was  growing  beautiful  so  rapidly  in  Tom's  eyes  ;  for  he  saw  that 
she  was  poor,  and  that  this  good  had  sprung  up  in  her  from  among  the 
sordid  strivings  of  her  life  ;  that  she  might  have  been  a  very  Venus  in 
a  minute  more,  if  Miss  Pecksnifl*  had  not  entered  with  her  friend. 

"  Mr.  Thomas  Pinch  !  "  said  Charity,  performing  the  ceremony  of 
introduction  with  evident  pride,  "  Mr.  Moddle.     Where 's  my  sister  '? " 

"  Gone,  Miss  Pecksnifi","  Mrs.  Todgers  answered.  "  She  had  appointed 
to  be  home." 

"  Ah  !  "  sighed  Charity,  looking  at  Tom.     "  Oh,  dear  me  !  " 

"  She  's  greatly  altered  since  she 's  been  Anoth —  since  she  's  been 
married,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  "  observed  Moddle. 

"  My  dear  Augustus  ! "  said  Miss  Pecksnifl",  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  verily 
believe  you  have  said  that  fifty  thousand  times,  in  my  hearing.  What 
a  Prose  you  are  !  " 

This  was  succeeded  by  some  trifling  love  passages,  which  appeared  to 
originate  with,  if  not  to  be  wholly  carried  on  by.  Miss  Pecksniff".  At 
any  rate,  Mr.  Moddle  was  much  slower  in  his  responses  than  is  customary 


440  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

witli  young  lovers,  and  exhibited  a  lowness  of  spirits  wliicli  was  quite 
oppressive. 

He  did  not  improve  at  all  when  Tom  and  he  were  in  the  streets,  but 
sighed  so  dismally  that  it  was  dreadful  to  hear  him.  As  a  means  of 
cheering  him  up,  Tom  told  him  that  he  wished  him  joy. 

"  Joy  !  "  cried  Moddle.     "  Ha,  ha  !  " 

"  What  an  extraordinary  young  man  ! "  thought  Tom. 

"  The  Scorner  has  not  set  his  seal  upon  you.  You  care  what  becomes 
of  you?"  said  Moddle. 

Tom  admitted  that  it  was  a  subject  in  which  he  certainly  felt  some 
interest. 

'•'  I  don't,"  said  Mr.  Moddle.  "  The  Elements  may  have  me  when  they 
please.     I  'm  ready." 

Tom  inferred  from  these,  and  other  expressions  of  the  same  nature, 
that  he  was  jealous.  Therefore  he  allowed  him  to  take  his  own  course; 
which  was  such  a  gloomy  one,  that  he  felt  a  load  removed  from  his  mind 
when  they  parted  company  at  the  gate  of  Furnival's  Inn. 

It  was  now  a  couple  of  hours  past  John  Westlock's  dinner-time  ;  and 
he  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room,  quite  anxious  for  Tom's  safety. 
The  table  w^as  spread  ;  the  wine  was  carefully  decanted  ;  and  the  dinner 
smelt  delicious. 

"  Why,  Tom,  old  boy,  where  on  earth  have  you  been  ?  Your  box  is 
here.     Get  your  boots  off  instantly,  and  sit  down  !  " 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  I  can't  stay,  John,"  replied  Tom  Pinch,  who  was 
breathless  with  the  haste  he  had  made  in  running  up  the  stairs. 

"  Can't  stay  !  " 

"  If  you  '11  go  on  with  your  dinner,"  said  Tom,  "  I  '11  tell  you  my 
reason  the  Mobile.  I  mustn't  eat  myself,  or  I  shall  have  no  appetite  for 
the  chops." 

"  There  are  no  chops  here,  my  good  fellow." 

"  No.     But  there  are,  at  Islington,"  said  Tom. 

John  Westlock  was  perfectly  confounded  by  this  reply,  and  vowed  he 
would  not  touch  a  morsel  until  Tom  had  explained  himself  fully.  So 
Tom  sat  down,  and  told  him  all ;  to  which  he  listened  with  the  greatest 
interest. 

He  knew  Tom  too  well,  and  respected  his  delicacy  too  much,  to  ask 
him  why  he  had  taken  these  measures  without  communicating  vrith  him 
first.  He  quite  concurred  in  the  expediency  of  Tom's  immediately 
returning  to  his  sister,  as  he  knew  so  little  of  the  place  in  which  he  had 
left  her  ;  and  good-humouredly  proposed  to  ride  back  with  him  in  a  cab, 
in  which  he  might  convey  his  box.  Tom's  proposition  that  he  should 
sup  with  them  that  night,  he  flatly  rejected,  but  made  an  appointment 
with  him  for  the  morrow,  "  And  now  Tom,"  he  saia,  as  they  rode  along, 
"  I  have  a  question  to  ask  you,  to  which  I  expect  a  manly  and  straight- 
forward answer.     Do  you  want  any  money  ?    I  am  pretty  sure  you  do." 

"  I  don't  indeed,"  said  Tom. 

"  I  believe  you  are  deceiving  me." 

"  No.  With  many  thanks  to  you,  I  am  quite  in  earnest,"  Tom  replied. 
"  My  sister  has  some  money,  and  so  have  I.     If  I  had  nothing  else,  John, 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  441 

I  have  a  five-pound  note,  whicli  that  good  creature,  Mrs.  Lupin,  of  the 
Dragon,  handed  up  to  me  outside  the  coach,  in  a  letter,  begging  me  to 
borrow  it ;  and  then  drove  off  as  hard  as  she  could  go." 

"And  a  blessing  on  every  dimple  in  her  handsome  face,  say  I  1"  cried 
John,  "  though  why  you  should  give  her  the  preference  over  me,  I  don't 
know.     Never  mind.      I  bide  my  time,  Tom." 

"  And  I  hope  you  '11  continue  to  bide  it,"  returned  Tom  gaily.  "  For 
I  owe  you  more  already,  in  a  hundred  other  ways,  than  I  can  ever  hope 
to  pay." 

They  parted  at  the  door  of  Tom's  new  residence.  John  Westlock, 
sitting  in  the  cab,  and,  catching  a  glimpse  of  a  blooming  little  busy 
creature  darting  out  to  kiss  Tom  and  to  help  him  with  his  box,  would 
not  have  had  the  least  objection  to  change  places  with  him. 

Well  !  she  was  a  cheerful  little  thing  ;  and  had  a  quaint,  bright 
quietness  about  her,  that  was  infinitely  pleasant.  Surely  she  was  the 
best  sauce  for  chops  ever  invented.  The  potatoes  seemed  to  take  a 
pleasure  in  sending  up  their  grateful  steam  before  her  ;  the  froth  upon 
the  pint  of  porter  pouted  to  attract  her  notice.  But  it  was  all  in  vain. 
She  saw  nothina*  but  Tom.  Tom  was  the  first  and  last  thinsr  in  the 
world. 

As  she  sat  opposite  to  Tom  at  supper,  fingering  one  of  Tom's  pet 
tunes  upon  the  table  cloth,  and  smiling  in  his  face,  he  had  never  been 
so  happy  in  his  life. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

SECRET    SERVICE. 


In  walking  from  the  City  with  his  sentimental  friend,  Tom  Pinch 
had  looked  into  the  face,  and  brushed  against  the  threadbare  sleeve,  of 
Mr.  Nadgett,  man  of  mystery  to  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested 
Loan  and  Life  Insurance  Company.  Mr.  Nadgett  naturally  passed 
away  from  Tom's  remembrance,  as  he  passed  out  of  his  view  j  for  he 
didn't  know  him,  and  had  never  heard  his  name. 

As  there  are  a  vast  number  of  people  in  the  huge  metropolis  of  Eng- 
land who  rise  up  every  morning,  not  knowing  where  their  heads  will 
rest  at  night,  so  there  are  a  multitude  who  shooting  arrows  over  houses 
as  their  daily  business,  never  know  on  vrhom  they  fall.  Mr.  Nadgett 
might  have  passed  Tom  Pinch  ten  thousand  times  ;  might  even  have 
been  quite  familiar  with  his  face,  his  name,  pursuits,  and  character  ;  yet 
never  once  have  dreamed  that  Tom  had  any  interest  in  any  act  or 
mystery  of  his.  Tom  might  have  done  the  like  by  him,  of  course.  But 
the  same  private  man  out  of  all  the  men  alive,  was  in  the  mind  of  each 
at  the  same  moment ;  was  prominently  connected,  though  in  a  different 
manner,  with  the  day's  adventures  of  both  ;  and  formed,  when  they 
passed  each  other  in  the  street,  the  one  absorbing  topic  of  their 
thougrhts. 


442  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Why  Tom  tiad  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  in  his  mind  requires  no  explana- 
tion. Why  Mr.  Nadgett  should  have  had  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  in  his,  is 
quite  another  thing. 

But  somehow  or  other  that  amiable  and  worthy  orphan  had  become 
a  part  of  the  mystery  of  Mr.  Xadgett's  existence.  Mr.  Nadgett  took  an 
interest  in  his  lightest  proceedings  ;  and  it  never  flagged  or  wavered. 
He  watched  him  in  and  out  of  the  Insurance  Office,  where  he  was  now 
formally  installed  as  a  Director  ;  he  dogged  his  footsteps  in  the  streets  ; 
he  stood  listening  when  he  talked  ;  he  sat  in  coflee-rooms  entering  his 
name  in  the  great  pocket-book,  over  and  over  again  ;  he  wrote  letters 
to  himself  about  him  constantly  ;  and  when  he  found  them  in  his  pocket 
put  them  in  the  fire,  with  such  distrust  and  caution  that  he  would  bend 
down  to  watch  the  crumpled  tinder  while  it  floated  upward,  as  if  his 
mind  misgave  him,  that  the  mystery  it  had  contained  might  come  out 
at  the  chimney-pot. 

And  yet  all  this  was  quite  a  secret.  Mr.  Nadgett  kept  it  to  himself, 
and  kept  it  close.  Jonas  had  no  more  idea  that  Mr.  Nadgett's  eyes 
were  fixed  on  him,  than  he  had  that  he  was  living  under  the  daily 
inspection  and  report  of  a  whole  order  of  Jesuits.  Indeed  Mr.  Nadgett's 
eyes  were  seldom  fixed  on  any  other  objects  than  the  ground,  the  clock, 
or  the  fire  ;  but  every  button  on  his  coat  might  have  been  an  eye  :  he 
saw  so  much. 

The  secret  manner  of  the  man  disarmed  suspicion  in  this  wise  ;  sug- 
gesting, not  that  he  was  watching  any  one,  but  that  he  thought  some 
other  man  was  watching  him.  He  went  about  so  stealthily,  and  kept 
himself  so  wrapped  up  in  himself,  that  the  whole  object  of  his  life 
appeared  to  be,  to  avoid  notice,  and  preserve  his  own  mystery.  Jonas 
sometimes  saw  him  in  the  street,  hovering  in  the  outer  office,  waiting  at 
the  door  for  the  man  who  never  came,  or  slinking  ofl"  with  his  immoveable 
face  and  drooping  head,  and  the  one  beaver  glove  dangling  before  him  : 
but  he  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  the  cross  upon  the  top  of  St,  Paul's 
Cathedral  taking  note  of  what  he  did,  or  slowly  winding  a  great  net 
about  his  feet,  as  of  Nadgett's  being  engaged  in  such  an  occupation. 

Mr.  Nadgett  made  a  mysterious  change  about  this  time  in  his 
mysterious  life  :  for  whereas  he  had,  until  now,  been  first  seen  every 
morning  coming  down  Cornhill,  so  exactly  like  the  Nadgett  of  the  day 
before  as  to  occasion  a  popular  belief  that  he  never  went  to  bed  or  took 
his  clothes  off",  he  was  now  first  seen  in  Holborn,  coming  out  of 
Kingsgate-street  j  and  it  was  soon  discovered  that  he  actually  went  every 
morning  to  a  barber's  shop  in  that  street  to  get  shaved ;  and  that  the 
barber's  name  was  Sweedlepipe.  He  seemed  to  make  appointments  with 
the  man  who  never  came,  to  meet  him  at  this  barber's  ;  for  he  would 
frequently  take  long  spells  of  waiting  in  the  shop,  and  would  ask  for  pen 
and  ink,  and  pull  out  his  pocket-book,  and  be  very  busy  over  it  for  an 
hour  at  a  time.  Mrs.  Gamp  and  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  had  many  deep  dis- 
coursings  on  the  subject  of  this  mysterious  customer ;  but  they  usually 
agreed  that  he  had  speculated  too  much  and  was  keeping  out  of  the  way. 

He  must  have  appointed  the  man  who  never  kept  his  word,  to  meet 
him  at  another  new  place  too  ;  for  one  day  he  was  found,  for  the  first 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  443 

time,  by  the  waiter  at  the  Mourning  Coach-IIorse,  the  House-of-call  for 
Undertakers,  down  in  the  City  there,  making  figures  with  a  pipe-stem 
in  the  sawdust  of  a  clean  spittoon  ;  and  declined  to  call  for  anything,  on 
the  ground  of  expecting  a  gentleman  presently.  As  the  gentleman  was 
not  honourable  enough  to  keep  his  engagement,  he  came  again  next  day, 
with  his  pocket-book  in  such  a  state  of  distention  that  he  was  regarded 
in  the  bar  as  a  man  of  large  property.  After  that,  he  repeated  his  visits 
every  day,  and  had  so  much  writing  to  do,  that  he  made  nothing  of 
emptying  a  capacious  leaden  inkstand  in  two  sittings.  Although  he 
never  talked  much,  still  by  being  there  among  the  regular  customers,  he 
made  their  acquaintance  ;  and  in  course  of  time  became  quite  intimate 
with  Mr.  Tacker,  Mr.  Mould's  foreman  ;  and  even  with  Mr.  Mould  him- 
self, who  openly  said  he  was  a  long-headed  man,  a  dry  one,  a  salt  fish,  a 
deep  file,  a  rasper  :  and  made  him  the  subject  of  many  other  flattering- 
encomiums. 

At  the  same  time,  too,  he  told  the  people  at  the  Insurance  Ofhce,  in 
his  own  mysterious  way,  that  there  was  something  wrong  (secretly 
wrong,  of  course)  in  his  liver,  and  that  he  feared  he  must  put  himself 
under  the  doctor's  hands.  He  was  delivered  over  to  Jobling  upon  this 
representation  ;  and  though  Jobling  could  not  find  out  where  his  liver 
was  wrong,  wrong  Mr.  Nadgett  said  it  was  ;  observing,  that  it  was  his 
own  liver,  and  he  hoped  he  ought  to  know.  Accordingly,  he  became 
Mr.  Jobling's  patient ;  and  detailing  his  symptoms  in  his  slow  and  secret 
way,  was  in  and  out  of  that  gentleman's  room  a  dozen  times  a-day. 

As  he  pursued  all  these  occupations  at  once;  and  all  steadily;  and 
all  secretly;  and  never  slackened  in  his  watchfulness  of  everything  that 
Mr.  Jonas  said  and  did,  and  left  unsaid  and  undone  :  it  is  not  improbable 
that  they  were,  secretly,  essential  parts  of  some  great  secret  scheme  which 
Mr.  Nadgett  had  on  foot. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  this  very  day  on  which  so  much  had 
happened  to  Tom  Pinch,  that  Nadgett  suddenly  appeared  before 
Mr.  Montague's  house  in  Pall  Mall — he  always  made  his  appearance  as 
if  he  had  that  moment  come  up  a  trap — when  the  clocks  were  striking- 
nine.  He  rang  the  bell  in  a  covert  under-handed  way,  as  though  it  were 
a  treasonable  act ;  and  passed  in  at  the  door,  the  moment  it  was  opened 
wide  enough  to  receive  his  body.  That  done,  he  shut  it  immediately, 
with  his  own  hands. 

Mr.  Bailey,  taking  up  his  name  without  delay,  returned  with  a  request 
that  he  would  follow  him  into  his  master's  chamber.  The  chairman  of 
the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life  Insurance  Board  was 
dressing,  and  received  him  as  a  business  person  who  was  often  backwards 
and  forwards,  and  was  received  at  all  times  for  his  business'  sake. 

V  Well,  Mr.  Nadgett  ! " 

Mr.  Nadgett  put  his  hat  upon  the  ground  and  coughed.  The  boy 
having  withdrawn  and  shut  the  door,  he  went  to  it  softly,  examined  the 
handle,  and  returned  to  within  a  pace  or  two  of  the  chair  in  which  Mr. 
Montague  sat. 

"  Any  news  Mr.  Nadgett?" 

"  I  think  we  have  some  news  at  last,  Sir." 


444  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  I  am  happy  to  hear  it.  I  began  to  fear  you  were  off  the  scent, 
Mr.  Nadgett." 

"  No;  Sir.  It  grows  cold  occasionally.  It  will  sometimes.  We  can't 
help  that." 

"  You  are  Truth  itself,  Mr.  Nadgett.    Do  you  report  a  great  success  ?" 

"  That  depends  upon  your  judgment  and  construction  of  it,"  was  his 
a,nswer,  as  he  put  on  his  spectacles. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  it  yourself.     Have  you  pleased  yourself? " 

Mr.  Nadgett  rubbed  his  hands  slowly,  stroked  his  chin,  looked  round 
the  room,  and  said,  "  Yes,  yes,  I  think  it 's  a  good  case.  I  am  disposed 
to  think  it 's  a  good  case.     Will  you  go  into  it  at  once  1" 

"  By  all  means." 

Mr.  Nadgett  picked  out  a  certain  chair  from  among  the  rest,  and  hav- 
ing planted  it  in  a  particular  spot,  as  carefully  as  if  he  had  been  going  to 
vault  over  it,  placed  another  chair  in  front  of  it :  leaving  room  for  his 
own  legs  between  them.  He  then  sat  down  in  chair  number  two,  and 
laid  his  pocket-book,  very  carefully,  on  chair  number  one.  He  then 
untied  the  pocket-book,  and  hung  the  string  over  the  back  of  chair 
number  one.  He  then  drew  both  the  chairs  a  little  nearer  Mr.  Mon- 
tague, and  opening  the  pocket-book  spread  out  its  contents.  Finally,  he 
selected  a  certain  memorandum  from  the  rest,  and  held  it  out  to  his 
employer,  who,  during  the  whole  of  these  preliminary  ceremonies,  had 
been  making  violent  efforts  to  conceal  his  impatience. 

"  I  wish  you  wouldn't  be  so  fond  of  making  notes,  my  excellent 
friend,"  said  Tigg  Montague  with  a  ghastly  smile.  "  I  wish  you  would 
consent  to  give  me  their  purport  by  word  of  mouth." 

"  I  don't  like  word  of  mouth,"  said  Mr.  Nadgett,  gravely.  "We  never 
know  who 's  listening." 

Mr.  Montague  was  going  to  retort,  when  Nadgett  handed  him  the 
paper,  and  said,  with  quiet  exultation  in  his  tone,  "  We  '11  begin  at  the 
beginning,  and  take  that  one  first,  if  you  please,  sir." 

The  chairman  cast  his  eyes  upon  it,  coldly,  and  with  a  smile  which 
did  not  render  any  great  homage  to  the  slow  and  methodical  habits  of 
his  spy.  But  he  had  not  read  half-a-dozen  lines  when  the  expression 
of  his  face  began  to  change,  and  before  he  had  finished  the  perusal  of 
the  paper,  it  was  full  of  grave  and  serious  attention. 

"Number  Two,"  said  Mr.  Nadgett,  handing  him  another,  and  receiving 
back  the  first.  "  Head  Number  Two,  sir,  if  you  please.  There  is  more 
interest  as  you  go  on." 

Tigg  Montague  leaned  backward  in  his  chair,  and  cast  upon  his 
emissary  such  a  look  of  vacant  wonder  (not  unmingled  with  alarm), 
that  Mr.  Nadgett  considered  it  necessary  to  repeat  the  request  he  had 
already  twice  preferred  :  with  the  view  of  recalling  his  attention  to  the 
point  in  hand.  Profiting  by  the  hint,  Mr.  Montague  went  on  With 
Number  Two,  and  afterwards  with  Numbers  Three,  and  Four,  and  Five, 
and  so  on. 

These  documents  were  all  in  Mr.  Nadgett's  writing,  and  were  appa- 
rently a  series  of  memoranda,  jotted  down  from  time  to  time  upon  the 
backs  of  old  letters,  or  any  scrap  of  paper  that  came  first  to  hand. 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  445 

Loose  straggling  scrawls  ihej  were,  and  of  very  uninviting  exterior  ; 
but  they  had  weighty  purpose  in  them,  if  the  chairman's  face  were  any 
index  to  the  character  of  their  contents. 

The  progress  of  Mr.  Padgett's  secret  satisfaction  arising  out  of  the 
effect  they  made,  kept  pace  with  the  emotions  of  the  reader.  At  first, 
Mr.  Nadgett  sat  with  his  spectacles  low  down  upon  his  nose,  looking 
over  them  at  his  employer,  and  nervously  rubbing  his  hands.  After  a 
little  while,  he  changed  his  posture  in  his  chair  for  one  of  greater  ease, 
and  leisurely  perused  the  next  document  he  held  ready,  as  if  an  occa- 
sional glance  at  his  employer's  face  were  now  enough,  and  all  occasion  for 
anxiety  or  doubt  were  gone.  And  finally  he  rose  and  looked  out  of  the 
window,  where  he  stood,  with  a  triumphant  air,  until  Tigg  Montague 
had  finished. 

"  And  tliis  is  tlie  last,  Mr.  Nadgett !  "  said  that  gentleman,  drawing 
a  long  breath. 

"  That,  Sir,  is  the  last." 

"  You  are  a  wonderful  man,  Mr.  Nadgett  ! " 

"  I  think  it  is  a  pretty  good  case,"  he  returned,  as  he  gathered  up  his 
papers.     "  It  cost  some  trouble.  Sir." 

"  The  trouble  shall  be  well  rewarded,  Mr,  Nadgett."  Nadgett  bowed. 
'•  There  is  a  deeper  impression  of  Somebody's  Hoof  here,  than  I  had 
expected,  Mr.  Nadgett.  I  may  congratulate  myself  upon  your  being- 
such  a  good  hand  at  a  secret." 

"  Oh  !  nothing  has  an  interest  to  me  that 's  not  a  secret,"  replied 
Nadgett,  as  he  tied  the  string  about  his  pocket-book,  and  put  it  up. 
"  It  almost  takes  away  any  pleasure  I  may  have  had  in  this  inquiry  even 
to  make  it  known  to  you." 

"  A  most  invaluable  constitution,"  Tigg  retorted.  "  A  great  gift  for 
a  gentleman  employed  as  you  are,  Mr.  Nadgett.  Much  better  than  dis- 
cretion :  though  you  possess  that  quality  also  in  an  eminent  degree, 
I  think  I  heard  a  double  knock.  Will  you  put  your  head  out  of 
window,  and  tell  me  whether  there  is  anybody  at  the  door  1 " 

Mr.  Nadgett  softly  raised  the  sash,  and  peered  out  from  the  very  corner, 
as  a  man  might  who  was  looking^  down  into  a  street  from  whence  a  brisk 
discharge  of  musketry  might  be  expected  at  any  moment.  Drawing  in  his 
head  with  equal  caution,  he  observed,  not  altering  his  voice  or  manner  : 

"  Mr.  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  !  " 

"  I  thought  so,"  Tigg  retorted. 

"Shall  Igor' 

"  1  think  you  had  better.  Stay  though  !  No  !  rcinain  here,  Mr. 
Nadgett,  if  you  please." 

It  was  remarkable  how  pale  and  flurried  he  had  become  in  an  instant. 
There  was  nothing  to  account  for  it.  His  eye  had  fallen  on  his  razors  : 
but  what  of  them  ! 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  was  announced. 

"  Show  him  up  directly,  Nadgett  !  Don't  you  leave  us  alone  together. 
Mind  you  don't,  now  !  By  the  Lord  !  "  he  added  in  a  whisper  to  him- 
self :  "  We  don't  know  what  may  happen," 

Saying  this,  he  hurriedly  took  up  a  couple  of  hair-brushes,  and  began 
to  exercise  them  on  his  own  head,  as  if  his  toilet  had  not  been  interrupted. 


446  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

Mr.  Nadgett  withdrew  to  the  stove  in  which  there  was  a  small  fire  for 
the  convenience  of  heating  curling-irons  ;  and  taking  advantage  of  so 
favourable  an  opportunity  for  drying  his  pocket-handkerchief,  produced 
it  without  loss  of  time.  There  he  stood,  during  the  whole  interview, 
holding  it  before  the  bars,  and  sometimes,  but  not  often,  glancing  over 
his  shoulder. 

"  My  dear  Chuzzlewit  !  "  cried  Montague,  as  Jonas  entered  :  "  you 
rise  with  the  lark.  Though  you  go  to  bed  with  the  nightingale,  you 
rise  with  the  lark.  You  have  superhuman  energy,  my  dear  Chuz- 
zlewit ! " 

"  Ecod  ! "  said  Jonas,  with  an  air  of  languor  and  ill-humour,  as  he 
took  a  chair,  "  I  should  be  very  glad  not  to  get  up  with  the  lark,  if  I 
could  help  it.  But  I  am  a  light  sleeper  ;  and  it 's  better  to  be  up,  than 
lying  awake,  counting  the  dismal  old  church-clocks,  in  bed." 

"  A  light  sleeper  !  "  cried  his  sriend.  "  Now,  what  is  a  light  sleeper  ? 
I  often  hear  the  expression,  but  upon  my  life  I  have  not  the  least  concep- 
tion what  a  light  sleeper  is." 

"  Hallo  !  "  said  Jonas,  "  Who 's  that  ?  Oh,  old  what  's-his-name  : 
looking  (as  usual)  as  if  he  wanted  to  skulk  up  the  chimney." 

"  Ha,  ha  !    I  have  no  doubt  he  does." 

"  Well !    He 's  not  wanted  here,  I  suppose.    He  may  go,  mayn't  he?  " 

"  Oh,  let  him  stay,  let  him  stay !  "  said  Tigg.  "  He  's  a  mere  piece 
of  furniture.  He  has  been  making  his  report,  and  is  waiting  for  further 
orders.  He  has  been  told,"  said  Tigg,  raising  his  voice,  "  not  to  lose 
sight  of  certain  friends  of  ours,  or  to  think  that  he  has  done  with  them 
by  any  means.     He  understands  his  business." 

"  He  need,"  replied  Jonas  :  "  for  of  all  the  precious  old  dummies  in 
appearance  that  ever  I  saw,  he 's  about  the  worst.  He 's  afraid  of  me, 
I  think." 

"  It 's  my  belief,"  said  Tigg,  "  that  you  are  Poison  to  him.  Nadgett ! 
give  me  that  towel ! " 

He  had  as  little  occasion  for  a  towel  as  Jonas  had  for  a  start.  But 
Kadgett  brought  it  quickly ;  and,  having  lingered  for  a  moment,  fell 
back  upon  his  old  post  by  the  fire. 

"  You  see,  my  dear  fellow,"  resumed  Tigg,  "  you  are  too what 's 

the  matter  with  your  lips  1    How  white  they  are  !  " 

"  I  took  some  vinegar  just  now,"  said  Jonas.  "  I  had  oysters  for  my 
breakfast.  Where  are  they  white  1"  he  added,  muttering  an  oath,  and 
rubbing  them  upon  his  handkerchief     "  I  don't  believe  they  are  white." 

"  Now  I  look  again,  they  are  not,"  replied  his  friend.  "  They  are 
coming  right  again." 

"  Say  what  you  were  going  to  say,"  cried  Jonas,  angrily,  "  and  let  my 
face  be  !  As  long  as  I  can  shew  my  teeth  when  I  want  to  (and  I  can 
do  that  pretty  well),  the  colour  of  my  lips  is  not  material." 

"  Quite  true,"  said  Tigg  !  "  I  was  only  going  to  say  that  you  are 
too  quick  and  active  for  our  friend.  He  is  too  shy  to  cope  with  such  a 
man  as  you,  but  does  his  duty  well.  Oh  very  well !  But  what  is  a 
light  sleeper  ?" 

"  Hang  a  light  sleeper  !"  exclaimed  Jonas,  pettishly. 

"  No,  no,"  interrupted  Tigg.     "  No.  We  '11  not  do  that." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  447 

"  A  light  sleeper  an't  a  heavy  one/'  said  Jonas  in  his  sulky  way  : 
^'  don't  sleep  much,  and  don't  sleep  well,  and  don't  sleep  sound." 

"  And  dreams,"  said  Tigg,  "  and  cries  out  in  an  ugly  manner ;  and 
when  the  candle  burns  down  in  the  night,  is  in  an  agony ;  and  all  that 
sort  of  thing.     I  see  !" 

They  were  silent  for  a  little  time.     Then  Jonas  spoke  : 

"  Now  we  've  done  with  child's  talk,  I  want  to  have  a  word  with  you. 
I  want  to  have  a  word  with  you  before  we  meet  up  yonder  to-day.  I 
am  not  satisfied  with  the  state  of  affairs." 

"  Not  satisfied  !  "  cried  Tigg.    "  The  money  comes  in  well." 

"  The  money  comes  in  well  enough,"  retorted  Jonas  :  "  but  it  don't 
come  out  well  enough.  It  can't  be  got  at,  easily  enough.  I  haven't 
sufficient  power  ;  it 's  all  in  your  hands.  Ecod  !  what  with  one  of  your 
bye-laws,  and  another  of  your  bye-laws,  and  your  votes  in  this  capacity, 
and  your  votes  in  that  capacity,  and  your  official  rights,  and  your  indi- 
vidual rights,  and  other  people's  rights  who  are  only  you  again,  there  are 
no  rights  left  for  me.  Everybody  else's  rights  are  my  wrongs.  What 's 
the  use  of  my  having  a  voice  if  it 's  always  drowned  1  I  might  as  well  be 
dumb,  and  it  would  be  much  less  aggravating.  I  'm  not  agoing  to  stand 
that,  you  know." 

"  No  ?"  said  Tigg  in  an  insinuating  tone. 

"  No  ! "  returned  Jonas,  "  I  'ra  not  indeed.  I  '11  play  Old  Gooseberry 
with  the  office,  and  make  you  glad  to  buy  me  out  at  a  good  high  figure, 
if  you  try  any  of  your  tricks  with  me." 

"  I  give  you  my  honor ^"  Montague  began. 

"  Oh  !  confound  your  honor,"  interrupted  Jonas,  who  became  more 
coarse  and  quarrelsome  as  the  other  remonstrated,  which  may  have  been 
a  part  of  Mr.  Montague's  intention  :  "  I  want  a  little  more  control  over 
the  money.  You  may  have  all  the  honor,  if  you  like  ;  I  '11  never  bring 
you  to  book  for  that.  But  I  'm  not  agoing  to  stand  it,  as  it  is  now.  If 
you  should  take  it  into  your  honorable  head  to  go  abroad  with  the 
bank,  I  don't  see  much  to  prevent  you.  Well !  That  won't  do.  I  've 
had  some  very  good  dinners  here,  but  they  'd  come  too  dear  on  such 
terms  :  and  therefore,  that  won't  do," 

"  I  am  unfortunate  to  find  you  in  this  humour,"  said  Tigg,  with  a 
remarkable  kind  of  smile  :  "for  I  was  going  to  propose  to  you — for 
your  own  advantage  ;  solely  for  your  own  advantage — that  you  should 
venture  a  little  more  with  us." 

"  Was  you,  by  G —  V  said  Jonas,  with  a  short  laugh. 

"  Yes.  And  to  suggest,"  pursued  Montague,  "  that  surely  you  have 
friends  ;  indeed,  I  know  you  have  ;  who  would  answer  our  purpose 
admirably,  and  whom  we  should  be  delighted  to  receive." 

"  How  kind  of  you  !  You  'd  be  delighted  to  receive  *em,  would 
you  ]"  said  Jonas,  bantering. 

"  I  give  'you  my  sacred  honor,  quite  transported.  As  your  friends, 
observe  ! " 

"  Exactly,"  said  Jonas  :  "  as  my  friends,  of  course.  You  '11  be  very 
much  delighted  when  you  get  'em,  I  have  no  doubt.  And  it  '11  be  all 
to  my  advantage,  won't  it  ?  " 

"  It  will  be  very  much  to  your    advantage,"   answered   Montague, 


448  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

poising  a  briisli  in  each  hand,  and  looking  steadily    upon  him.     "  It 
will  be  very  much  to  your  advantage,  I  assure  you." 

"  And  you  can  tell  me  how,"  said  Jonas,  ''  can't  you  1 " 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  how  ?  "  returned  the  other. 

"  I  think  you  had  better,"  said  Jonas.  "  Strange  things  have  been 
done  in  the  Insurance  way  before  now,  by  strange  sorts  of  men,  and 
I  mean  to  take  care  of  myself" 

"  Chuzzlewit  ! "  replied  Montague,  leaning  forward,  with  his  arms 
upon  his  knees,  and  looking  full  into  his  face.  "  Strange  things  have 
been  done,  and  are  done  every  day  ;  not  only  in  our  way,  but  in  a 
variety  of  other  waj'^s  ;  and  no  one  suspects  them.  But  ours,  as  you 
say,  my  good  friend,  is  a  strange  way  ;  and  we  strangely  happen,  some- 
times, to  come  into  the  knowledge  of  very  strange  events." 

He  beckoned  to  Jonas  to  bring  his  chair  nearer  ;  and  looking  slightly 
round,  as  if  to  remind  him  of  the  presence  of  Nadgett,  whispered  in  his  ear. 

From  red  to  white  ;  from  white  to  red  again  ;  from  red  to  yellow  ; 
then  to  a  cold,  dull,  awful,  sweat-bedabbled  blue.  In  that  short  whis- 
per, all  these  changes  fell  upon  the  face  of  Jonas  Chuzzlewit ;  and  when 
at  last  he  laid  his  hand  upon  the  whisperer's  mouth,  appalled,  lest  any 
syllable  of  what  he  said  should  reach  the  ears  of  the  third  person 
present,  it  was  as  bloodless,  and  as  heavy  as  the  hand  of  Death. 

He  drew  his  chair  away,  and  sat  a  spectacle  of  terror,  misery  and 
rage.  He  was  afraid  to  speak,  or  look,  or  move,  or  sit  still.  Abject, 
crouching,  and  miserable,  he  was  a  greater  degradation  to  the  form  he 
bore,  than  if  he  had  been  a  loathsome  wound  from  head  to  heel. 

His  companion  leisurely  resumed  his  dressing,  and  completed  it, 
glancing  sometimes  with  a  smile  at  the  transformation  he  had  effected, 
but  never  speaking  once. 

"  You  11  not  object,"  he  said,  when  he  was  quite  equipped,  "  to  ven- 
ture further  with  us,  Chuzzlewit,  my  friend  ? " 

His  pale  lips  faintly  stammered  out  a  "  No." 

"  Well  said  !  That 's  like  yourself.  Do  you  know,  I  was  thinking 
yesterday  thfit  your  father-in-law,  relying  on  your  advice  as  a  man  of 
great  saga-city  in  money  matters,  as  no  doubt  you  are,  would  join  us,  if 
the  thing  were  well  presented  to  him.     He  has  money  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  has  money." 

"  Shall  I  leave  I\Ir.  Pecksniff  to  you  ?  Will  you  undertake  for 
Mr.  Pecksniff?" 

"  1 11  try.     1 11  do  my  best." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,"  replied  the  other,  clapping  him  upon  the 
shoulder.  "  Shall  we  walk  down  stairs  ?  Mr.  Nadgett  !  Follow  us,  if 
you  please." 

They  went  down  in  that  order.  Whatever  Jonas  felt  in  reference  to 
Montague  ;  whatever  sense  he  had  of  being  caged,  and  barred,  and 
trapped,  and  having  fallen  down  into  a  pit  of  deepest  ruin  ;  whatever 
thoughts  came  crowding  on  his  mind  even  at  that  early  time,  of  one 
terrible  chance  of  escape,  of  one  red  glimmer  in  a  sky  of  blackness  ;  he 
no  more  thought  that  the  slinking  figure  half  a  dozen  stairs  behind 
him  was  his  pursuing  Fate,  than  that  the  other  figure  at  his  side  was 
his  Good  Angel. 


■tyVa^)^!a^^^^^/^.6J,  aJ  /.^^H/^,  a^z  a/??t^?£^^A^y!!(r^  oi^ynz-j^^A- 


I 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  449 


CHAPTER  XXXIX. 

CONTAINING  SOME  FURTHER  PARTICULARS  OF  THE  DOMESTIC  ECONOMY 
OF  THE  PINCHES  ;  WITH  STRANGE  NEWS  FROM  THE  CITY,  NARROWLY 
CONCERNING   TOM. 

Pleasant  little  Ruth  !  Cheerful,  tidy,  bustlin<^,  quiet  little  Rutli  I 
No  doirs-house  ever  yielded  greater  delight  to  its  young  mistress,  than 
little  Ruth  derived  from  her  glorious  dominion  over  the  triangular 
parlour  and  the  two  small  bed-rooms. 

To  be  Tom's  housekeeper.  What  dignity  !  Housekeeping,  upon  the 
commonest  terms,  associated  itself  with  elevated  responsibilities  of  all  sorts 
and  kinds  ;  but  housekeeping  for  Tom,  implied  the  utmost  complication 
of  grave  trusts  and  mighty  charges.  Well  might  she  take  the  keys  out 
of  the  little  chiffonnier  which  held  the  tea  and  sugar  ;  and  out  of  the  tAvo 
little  damp  cupboards  down  by  the  fire-place,  where  the  very  black 
beetles  got  mouldy,  and  had  the  shine  taken  out  of  their  backs  by  envious 
mildew ;  and  jingle  them  upon  a  ring  before  Tom's  eyes  when  he  came 
down  to  breakfast  !  Well  might  she,  laughing  musically,  put  them  up 
in  that  blessed  little  pocket  of  her  s  with  a  merry  pride  !  For  it  was 
such  a  grand  novelty  to  be  mistress  of  anything,  that  if  she  had  Ifeen  the 
most  relentless  and  despotic  of  all  little  housekeepers,  she  might  have 
pleaded  just  that  much  for  her  excuse,  and  have  been  honourably 
acquitted. 

So  far  from  being  despotic,  however,  there  was  a  coyness  about  her 
very  way  of  pouring  out  the  tea,  which  Tom  quite  revelled  in.  And 
when  she  asked  him  what  he  would  like  to  have  for  dinner,  and  faltered 
out  "chops"  as  a  reasonably  good  suggestion  after  their  last  night's 
successful  supper,  Tom  grew  quite  facetious  and  rallied  her  desperately. 

"  I  don't  know  Tom,"  said  his  sister,  blushing,  "  I  am  not  quite  con- 
fident, but  I  think  I  could  make  a  beef-steak  pudding,  if  I  tried,  Tom." 

"  In  the  whole  catalogue  of  cookery,  there  is  notliing  I  should  like 
so  much  as  a  beef-steak  pudding  ! "  cried  Tom  ;  slapping  his  leg  to  give 
the  greater  force  to  this  reply. 

"  Yes,  dear,  that 's  excellent !  But  if  it  should  happen  not  to  come 
quite  right  the  first  time,"  his  sister  faltered  ;  "  if  it  should  happen 
not  to  be  a  pudding  exactly,  but  should  turn  out  a  stew,  or  a  soup,  or 
something  of  that  sort,  you  '11  not  be  vexed  Tom,  will  you  ? " 

The  serious  way  in  which  she  looked  at  Tom  ;  the  way  in  which  Tom 
looked  at  her ;  and  the  way  in  which  she  gradually  broke  into  a  merry 
laugh  at  her  own  expense  ;  would  have  enchanted  you. 

"  Why,"  said  Tom,  "  this  is  capital.  It  gives  us  a  new,  and  quite 
an  uncommon  interest  in  the  dinner.  We  put  into  a  lottery  for  a  beef- 
steak pudding,  and  it  is  impossible  to  say  what  we  may  get.  We  may 
make  some  wonderful  discovery,  perhaps,  and  produce  such  a  dish  as 
never  was  known  before." 

"  I  shall  not  be  at  all  surprised  if  we  do,  Tom,"  returned  his  sister, 
still  laughing  merrily,  "  or  if  it  should  prove  to  be  such  a  dish  as  we 

G  G 


450  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

shall  not  feel  very  anxious  to  produce  again ;  but  the  meat  must  come 
out  of  the  saucepan  at  last,  somehow  or  other,  you  know.  We  can't 
cook  it  into  nothing  at  all ;  that 's  a  great  comfort.  So  if  you  like  to 
venture,  /will." 

"I  have  not  the  least  doubt,"  rejoined  Tom,  "that  it  will  come  out 
an  excellent  pudding  ;  or  at  all  events,  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  think  it 
so.  There  is  naturally  something  so  handy  and  brisk  about  you,  Ruth, 
that  if  you  said  you  could  make  a  bowl  of  faultless  turtle  soup,  I  should 
believe  you." 

And  Tom  was  right.  She  was  precisely  that  sort  of  person.  Nobody 
ought  to  have  been  able  to  resist  her  coaxing  manner  ;  and  nobody  had 
any  business  to  try.  Yet  she  never  seemed  to  know  it  was  her  manner 
at  all.     That  was  the  best  of  it. 

Well  !  she  washed  up  the  breakfast  cups,  chatting  away  the  whole 
time,  and  telling  Tom  all  sorts  of  anecdotes  about  the  brass  and  copper 
founder  ;  put  everything  in  its  place  ;  made  the  room  as  neat  as  herself ; 
— you  must  not  suppose  its  shape  was  half  as  neat  as  her's  though,  or 
anything  like  it  ;  and  brushed  Tom's  old  hat  round  and  round  and 
round  again,  until  it  was  as  sleek  as  Mr.  Pecksniff.  Then  she  discovered, 
all  in  a  moment,  that  Tom's  shirt-collar  was  frayed  at  the  edge ;  and 
flying  up  stairs  for  a  needle  and  thread,  came  flying  down  again  with 
her  thimble  on,  and  set  it  right  with  wonderful  expertness  ;  never  once 
sticking  the  needle  into  his  face,  although  she  was  humming  his  pet 
tune  from  first  to  last,  and  beating  time  with  the  fingers  of  her  left 
hand  upon  his  neckcloth.  She  had  no  sooner  done  this,  than  off  she 
was  again ;  and  there  she  stood  once  more,  as  brisk  and  busy  as  a  bee, 
tying  that  compact  little  chin  of  her's  into  an  equally  compact  little 
bonnet  :  intent  on  bustling  out  to  the  butcher's,  without  a  minute's  loss 
of  time  ;  and  inviting  Tom  to  come  and  see  the  steak  cut  with  his  own 
eyes.  As  to  Tom,  he  was  ready  to  go  anywhere  :  so  off  they  trotted, 
arm-in-arm,  as  nimbly  as  you  please  :  saying  to  each  other  what  a 
quiet  street  it  was  to  lodge  in,  and  how  very  cheap,  and  what  an  airy 
situation. 

To  see  the  butcher  slap  the  steak,  before  he  laid  it  on  the  block,  and 
gave  his  knife  a  sharpening,  was  to  forget  breakfast  instantly.  It  was 
agreeable,  too — it  really  was — to  see  him  cut  it  off,  so  smooth  and  juicy. 
There  was  nothing  savage  in  the  act,  although  the  knife  was  large  and 
keen  ;  it  was  a  piece  of  art,  high  art ;  there  was  delicacy  of  touch,  clear- 
ness of  tone,  skilful  handling  of  the  subject,  fine  shading.  It  was  the 
triumph  of  mind  over  matter  ;  quite. 

Perhaps  the  greenest  cabbage-leaf  ever  grown  in  a  garden  was  wrapped 
about  this  steak,  before  it  was  delivered  over  to  Tom.  But  the  butcher 
had  a  sentiment  for  his  business,  and  knew  how  to  refine  upon  it.  When 
he  saw  Tom  putting  the  cabbage-leaf  into  his  pocket  awkwardly,  he 
begged  to  be  allowed  to  do  it  for  him  ;  "  for  meat,"  he  said,  with  some 
emotion,  "  must  be  humoured,  not  drove." 

Back  they  went  to  the  lodgings  again,  after  they  had  bought  some 
eggs,  and  flour,  and  such  small  matters ;  and  Tom  sat  gravely  down  to 
write,  at  one  end  of  the  parlour  table,  while  Ruth  prepared  to  make  the 
pudding,  at  the  other  end :  for  there  was  nobody  in  the  house  but  an 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  451 

old  woman  (tlie  landlord  being  a  mysterious  sort  of  man,  who  went  out 
early  in  the  morning,  and  was  scarcely  ever  seen) ;  and,  saving  in  mere 
household  drudgery,  they  waited  on  themselves. 

"What  are  you  writing,  Tom  V  inquired  his  sister,  laying  her  hand 
upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Why,  you  see,  my  dear,"  said  Tom,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  and 
looking  up  in  her  face,  "  I  am  very  anxious,  of  course,  to  obtain  some 
suitable  employment ;  and,  before  Mr.  Westlock  comes  this  afternoon,  I 
think  I  may  as  well  prepare  a  little  description  of  myself  and  my 
qualifications ;  such  as  he  could  shew  to  any  friend  of  his." 

"You  had  better  do  the  same  for  me,  Tom,  also,"  said  his  sister, 
casting  down  her  eyes.  "  I  should  dearly  like  to  keep  house  for  you,  and 
take  care  of  you,  always,  Tom  ;  but  we  are  not  rich  enough  for  that." 

"We  are  not  rich,"  returned  Tom,  "certainly;  and  we  may  be  much 
poorer.  But  we  will  not  part,  if  we  can  help  it.  No,  no :  we  will  make 
lip  our  minds,  lluth,  that,  unless  we  are  so  very  unfortunate  as  to  render 
me  quite  sure  that  you  would  be  better  off  away  from  me  than  with  me, 
we  will  battle  it  out  together.  I  am  certain  we  shall  be  happier  if  we 
can  battle  it  out  together.  Don't  you  think  we  shall  ? " 
"Think,  Tom!" 

"  Oh,  tut,  tut ! "  interposed  Tom,  tenderly.     "  You  must  n't  cry." 
"  No,  no  ;  I  won't,  Tom.     But  you  can't  afford  it,  dear.     You  can't, 
indeed." 

"  We  don't  know  that,"  said  Tom.  "  How  are  we  to  know  that  yet 
awhile,  and  without  trying?  Lord  bless  my  soul ! " ;  Tom's  energy  became 
quite  grand  ;  "  There  is  no  knowing  v/hat  may  happen,  if  we  try  hard. 
And  I  am  sure  we  can  live  contentedly  upon  a  very  little — if  we  can 
only  get  it." 

"  Yes  :  that  I  am  sure  we  can,  Tom." 

"  Why,  then,"  said  Tom,  "  we  must  try  for  it.  My  friend,  John 
AVestlock,  is  a  capital  fellow,  and  very  shrewd  and  intelligent.  I  '11  take 
his  advice.  We  '11  talk  it  over  with  him — both  of  us  together.  You  '11 
like  John  very  much,  when  you  come  to  know  him,  I  am  certain.  Don't 
cry,  don't  cry.  You  make  a  beef-steak  pudding,  indeed  ! "  said  Tom, 
giving  her  a  gentle  push.  "  Why,  you  have  n't  boldness  enough  for  a 
dumpling  !" 

"  You  2cill  call  it  a  pudding,  Tom.     Mind  !  I  told  you  not ! " 
"  I  may  as  well  call  it  that,  'till  it  proves  to  be  something  else,"  said 
Tom.     "  Oh,  you  are  going  to  work  in  earnest,  are  you  1 " 

Aye,  aye  !  That  she  was.  And  in  such  pleasant  earnest,  moreover, 
that  Tom's  attention  wandered  from  his  writing,  every  moment.  First, 
she  tripped  down  stairs  into  the  kitchen  for  the  flour,  then  for  the  pie- 
board,  then  for  the  eggs,  then  for  the  butter,  then  for  a  jug  of  water, 
then  for  the  rolling-pin,  then  for  a  pudding-basin,  then  for  the  pepper, 
then  for  the  salt  :  making  a  separate  journey  for  everything,  and  laugh- 
ing every  time  she  started  off  afresh.  When  all  the  materials  were 
collected,  she  was  horrified  to  find  she  had  no  apron  on,  and  so  ran 
2(p  stairs,  by  way  of  variety,  to  fetch  it.  She  didn't  put  it  on  up  stairs, 
but  came  dancing  down  with  it  in  her  hand ;  and  being  one  of  those 
little  women  to  whom  an  apron  is  a  most  becoming  little  vanity,  it  took 

GG  2 


45^  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

an  immense  time  to  arrange ;  having  to  be  carefully  smoothed  clown 
beneath — Oh,  heaven,  what  a  wicked  little  stomacher  ! — and  to  be 
gathered  up  into  little  plaits  by  the  strings  before  it  could  be  tied,  and 
to  be  tapped,  rebuked,  and  wheedled,  at  the  pockets,  before  it  would  set 
right,  which  at  last  it  did,  and  when  it  did — but  never  mind  ;  this^s  a 
sober  chronicle  ;  Oh,  never  mind  !  And  then  there  were  her  cuffs  to  be 
tucked  up,  for  fear  of  flour  ;  and  she  had  a  little  ring  to  pull  off  her 
finger,  which  wouldn't  come  oif  (foolish  little  ring !) ;  and  during  the  whole 
of  these  preparations  she  looked  demurely  every  now  and  then  at  Tom, 
from  under  her  dark  eye-lashes,  as  if  they  were  all  a  part  of  the  pud- 
ding, and  indispensable  to  its  composition. 

For  the  life  and  soul  of  him,  Tom  could  get  no  further  in  his  writing 
than,  "  A  respectable  young  man  aged  thirty-five,"  and  this,  notwith- 
standing the  show  she  made  of  being  supernaturally  quiet,  and  going 
about  on  tiptoe,  lest  she  should  disturb  him  :  which  only  served  as  an 
additional  means  of  distracting  his  attention,  and  keeping  it  upon  her. 

"  Tom,"  she  said  at  last,  in  high  glee.     "  Tom  ! " 

"  What  now  1 "  said  Tom,  repeating  to  himself,  "  aged  thirty-five  ! 

"  Will  you  look  here  a  moment,  please." 

As  if  he  had  n't  been  looking  all  the  time  ! 

"  I  am  going  to  begin,  Tom.  Don't  you  wonder  why  I  butter  the 
inside  of  the  basin  1 "  said  his  busy  little  sister.     "  Eh,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Not  more  than  you  do,  I  dare  say,"  replied  Tom,  laughing.  "  For 
I  believe  you  don't  know  anything  about  it." 

"  What  an  infidel  you  are,  Tom  !  How  else  do  you  think  it  would 
turn  out  easily  when  it  was  done  ?  For  a  civil-engineer  and  land-sur- 
veyor not  to  know  that.     My  goodness,  Tom  !  " 

It  was  wholly  out  of  the  question  to  try  to  write.  Tom  lined  out 
"  A  respectable  young  man,  aged  thirty-five  ;  "  and  sat  looking  on,  pen 
in  hand,  with  one  of  the  most  loving  smiles  imaginable. 

Such  a  busy  little  woman  as  she  was  !  So  full  of  self-importance,  and 
trying  so  hard  not  to  smile,  or  seem  uncertain  about  anything  !  It 
w^as  a  perfect  treat  to  Tom  to  see  her  with  her  brows  knit,  and  her  rosy 
lips  pursed  up,  kneading  away  at  the  crust,  rolling  it  out,  cutting  it  up 
into  strips,  lining  the  basin  with  it,  shaving  it  oif  fine  round  the  rim  ; 
chopping  up  the  steak  into  small  pieces,  raining  down  pepper  and  salt 
upon  them,  packing  them  into  the  basin,  pouring  in  cold  water  for 
gravy ;  and  never  venturing  to  steal  a  look  in  his  direction,  lest  her 
gravity  should  be  disturbed  ;  until  at  last,  the  basin  being  quite  full  and 
only  wanting  the  top  crust,  she  clapped  her  hands,  all  covered  with 
paste  and  flour,  at  Tom,  and  burst  out  heartily  into  such  a  charming 
iittle  laugh  of  triumph,  that  the  pudding  need  have  had  no  other  sea- 
soning to  commend  it  to  the  taste  of  any  reasonable  man  on  earth. 

"  Where 's  the  pudding  'i  "  said  Tom.  For  he  was  cutting  his  jokes, 
Tom  was. 

"  Where  !  "  she  answered,  holding  it  up  with  both  hands.  "  Look 
at  it !  " 

"  T/iat  a  pudding  ! "  said  Tom. 

"It  will  be,  you  stupid  fellow,  when  it  's  covered  in,"  returned  his 
sister.     Tom  still  pretending  to  look  incredulous,  she  gave  him  a  tap  on 


//TlCOTZ^^hT'/C^^^  ^/  ^'  -^ 


ZH^Z-cS^t 


«< 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  4C)3 

the  head  witli  tlie  rolling-pin,  and  still  laughing  merrily,  had  returned 
to  the  composition  of  the  top-crust,  when  she  started  and  turned  very 
red.  Tom  started,  too,  for  following  her  eyes,  he  saw  John  Westlock  in 
the  room. 

"  Why,  my  goodness,  John  !     How  did  ijou  come  in  %  " 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  said  John — "  your  sister's  pardon  especially  :  but  I 
met  an  old  lady  at  the  street  door,  who  requested  me  to  enter  here  ; 
and  as  you  didn't  hear  me  knock,  and  the  door  was  open,  I  made  bold 
to  do  so.  I  hardly  know,"  said  John,  with  a  smile,  ''why  any  of  us 
should  be  disconcerted  at  my  having  accidentally  intruded  upon  such  an 
agreeable  domestic  occupation,  so  very  agreeably  and  skilfully  pursued  ; 
but  I  must  confess  that  /  am.  Tom,  will  you  kindly  come  to  my  relief  % " 

"  Mr.  John  Westlock,"  said  Tom.     "  My  sister." 

"  I  hope,  that  as  the  sister  of  so  old  a  friend,"  said  John,  laughing, 
"  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  detach  your  first  impressions  of  me  from 
my  unfortunate  entrance." 

"  My  sister  is  not  indisposed  perhaps  to  say  the  same  to  you  on  her 
own  behalf,"  retorted  Tom. 

John  said,  of  course,  that  this  was  quite  unnecessary,  for  he  had  been 
transfixed  in  silent  admiration  ;  and  he  held  out  his  hand  to  i\liss  Pinch; 
who  could  n't  take  it,  however,  by  reason  of  the  flour  and  paste  upon 
her  own.  This,  which  might  seem  calculated  to  increase  the  general 
confusion  and  render  matters  worse,  had  in  reality  the  best  effect  in  the 
world,  for  neither  of  them  could  help  laughing ;  and  so  they  both  found 
themselves  on  easy  terms  immediately. 

"  I  am  delighted  to  see  you,"  said  Tom.     "Sit  doAvn." 

"  I  can  only  think  of  sitting  down,  on  one  condition,"  returned  his 
friend  :  "  and  that  is,  that  your  sister  goes  on  with  the  pudding,  as  if 
you  were  still  alone." 

"  That  I  am  sure  she  will,"  said  Tom.  "  On  one  other  condition,  and 
that  is,  that  you  stay  and  help  us  to  eat  it." 

Poor  little  Ruth  was  seized  with  a  palpitation  of  the  heart  when  Tom 
-committed  this  appalling  indiscretion,  for  she  felt  that  if  the  dish  turned 
out  a  failure,  she  never  would  be  able  to  hold  up  her  head  before  John 
Westlock  again.  Quite  unconscious  of  her  state  of  mind,  John  accepted 
the  invitation  with  all  imaginable  heartiness ;  and  after  a  little  more 
pleasantry  concerning  this  same  pudding,  and  the  tremendous  expecta- 
tions he  made  belief  to  entertain  of  it,  she  blushingly  resumed  her 
occupation,  and  he  took  a  chair. 

"  I  am  here  much  earlier  than  I  intended,  Tom  ;  but  I  will  tell  you 
what  brings  me,  and  I  think  I  can  answer  for  your  being  glad  to  hear 
it.     Is  that  anything  you  wish  to  show  me  % " 

"  Oh  dear  no  !"  cried  Tom,  who  had  forgotten  the  blotted  scrap  of 
paper  in  his  hand,  until  this  inquiry  brought  it  to  his  recollection. 
.^' '  A  respectable  young  man,  aged  thirty-five' — The  beginning  of  a 
description  of  myself.     That 's  all." 

"  I  don't  think  you  will  have  occasion  to  finish  it,  Tom.  But  how  is 
it,  you  never  told  me  you  had  friends  in  London  f 

Tom  looked  at  his  sister  with  all  his  might ;  and  certainly  his  sister 
looked  with  all  her  mifrht  at  him. 

o 


454  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

"  Friends  in  London  !"  echoed  Tom. 

"  Ah  !"  said  Westlock,  "  to  be  sure." 

"  Have  you  any  friends  in  London,  Ruth,  my  dear "?"  asked  Tom. 

"  No,  Tom." 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  hear  that  /  have,"  said  Tom, ''  but  it 's  news  ta 
me.  I  never  knew  it.  They  must  be  capital  people  to  keep  a  secret, 
John." 

"  You  shall  judge  for  yourself,"  returned  the  other.  "  Seriously, 
Tom,  here  is  the  plain  state  of  the  case.  As  I  was  sitting  at  breakfast 
this  morning,  there  comes  a  knock  at  my  door." 

"  On  which  you  cried  out,  very  loud,  '  Come  in  ! '  "  suggested  Tom. 

"  So  I  did.  And  the  person  who  knocked,  not  being  a  respectable 
young  man  aged  thirty-five,  from  the  country,  came  in  when  he  was 
invited,  Tom,  instead  of  standing  gaping  and  staring  about  him  on  the 
landing.  Well !  when  he  came  in,  I  found  he  was  a  stranger ;  a 
grave,  business-like,  sedate-looking,  stranger.  '■  Mr,  Westlock  ?'  said 
he.  '  That  is  my  name,'  said  I.  '  The  favour  of  a  few  words  with  you  ?  ^ 
said  he.     '  Pray  be  seated,  sir,'  said  I." 

Here  John  stopped  for  an  instant,  to  glance  towards  the  table,  where 
Tom's  sister,  listening  attentively,  was  still  busy  with  the  basin,  which 
by  this  time  made  a  noble  appearance.     Then  he  resumed  : 

"  The  pudding  having  taken  a  chair,  Tom" — 

"What!"  cried  Tom. 

"  Having  taken  a  chair." 

"  You  said  a  pudding." 

"No,  no,"  replied  John,  colouring  rather;  "a  chair.  The  Idea  of 
a  stranger  coming  into  my  rooms  at  half-past  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  and  taking  a  pudding  !  Having  taken  a  chair,  Tom  a  chair — 
amazed  me  by  opening  the  conversation  thus  :  '  I  believe  you  are- 
acquainted,  sir,  with  Mr.  Thomas  Pinch  % ' " 

"No!"  cried  Tom. 

"  His  very  words,  I  assure  you.  I  told  him  that  I  was.  Did  I  know 
where  you  were  at  present '  residing  %  Yes.  In  London  %  Yes.  He 
had  casually  heard,  in  a  roundabout  way,  that  you  had  left  your  situa- 
tion with  Mr.  Pecksniff.  Was  that  the  fact  %  Yes,  it  was.  Did  you 
want  another  ?    Yes,  you  did." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Tom,  nodding  his  head. 

"  Just  M'hat  I  impressed  upon  him.  You  may  rest  assured  that  I  set 
that  point  beyond  the  possibility  of  any  mistake,  and  gave  him  distinctly 
to  understand  that  he  might  make  up  his  mind  about  it.  Very  well. 
*  Then,'  said  he,  *  I  think  I  can  accommodate  him.'  " 

Tom's  sister  stopped  short. 

"  Lord  bless  me  ! "  cried  Tom.  "  Euth,  my  dear,  ^  think  I  can 
accommodate  him.' " 

"  Of  course  I  begged  him,"  pursued  John  Westlock,  glancing  at  Tom's 
sister,  who  was  not  less  eager  in  her  interest  than  Tom  himself,  "  to  pro- 
ceed, and  said  that  I  would  undertake  to  see  you  immediately.  He 
replied  that  he  had  very  little  to  say,  being  a  man  of  few  words,  but 
such  as  it  was,  it  was  to  the  purpose  :  and  so,  indeed,  it  turned  out  :  for 
he  immediately  went  on  to  tell  me  that  a  friend  of  his  was  in  want  of  a 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  455 

kind  of  secretary  and  librarian  ;  and  that  although  the  salary  was  small, 
being  only  a  hundred  pounds  a  year,  with  neither  board  nor  lodging, 
still  the  duties  were  not  heavy,  and  there  the  post  was.  Vacant,  and 
ready  for  your  acceptance." 

"  Good  gracious  me  !  "  cried  Tom  ;  "  a  hundred  pounds  a  year  !  My 
dear  John  !  Kuth,  my  love  !     A  hundred  pounds  a  year  !  " 

"  But  the  strangest  part  of  the  story,"  resumed  John  Westlock,  laying 
his  hand  on  Tom's  wrist,  to  bespeak  his  attention,  and  repress  his  ecstacies 
for  the  moment :  "  the  strangest  part  of  the  story,  Miss  Pinch,  is  this. 
I  don't  know  this  man  from  Adam ;  neither  does  this  man  know  Tom." 

"  He  can't,"  said  Tom,  in  great  perplexity,  "  if  he 's  a  Londoner. 
I  don't  know  any  one  in  London." 

"  And  on  my  observing,"  John  resumed,  still  keeping  his  hand  upon 
Tom's  wrist,  "  that  I  had  no  doubt  he  would  excuse  the  freedom  I  took, 
in  inquiring  who  directed  him  to  me  ;  how  he  came  to  know  of  the 
change  which  had  taken  place  in  my  friend's  position  ;  and  how  he  came 
to  be  acquainted  with  my  friend's  peculiar  fitness  for  such  an  office  as 
he  had  described ;  he  drily  said  that  he  was  not  at  liberty  to  enter  into 
any  explanations." 

"  Not  at  liberty  to  enter  into  any  explanations  ! "  repeated  Tom, 
drawing  a  long  breath. 

"  '  I  must  be  perfectly  aware,'  he  said,"  John  added,  "  '  that  to  any 
person  who  had  ever  been  in  Mr.  PecksniiF's  neighbourhood,  Mr.  Thomas 
Pinch  and  his  acquirements  were  as  well  known  as  the  Church  steeple, 
or  the  Blue  Dragon," 

"  The  Blue  Dragon  !  "  replied  Tom,  staring  alternately  at  his  friend 
and  his  sister. 

"  Aye  ;  think  of  that  !  He  spoke  as  familiarly  of  the  Blue  Dragon, 
I '  give  you  my  word,  as  if  he  had  been  Mark  Tapley.  I  opened  my 
eyes,  I  can  tell  you,  when  he  did  so ;  but  I  could  not  fancy  I  had  ever 
seen  the  man  before,  although  he  said  with  a  smile,  '  You  know  the  Blue 
Dragon,  Mr.  Westlock ;  you  kept  it  up  there,  once  or  twice,  yourself.' 
Kept  it  up  there  !     So  I  did.     You  remember,  Tom  ?" 

Tom  nodded  with  great  significance,  and,  falling  into  a  state  of  deeper 
perplexity  than  before,  observed  that  this  was  the  most  unaccountable 
and  extraordinary  circumstance  he  had  ever  heard  of  in  his  life. 

"  Unaccountable  !  "  his  friend  repeated.  "  I  became  afraid  of  the  man. 
Though  it  was  broad  day,  and  bright  sunshine,  I  was  positively  afraid 
of  him.  I  declare  I  half  suspected  him  to  be  a  supernatural  visitor,  and 
not  a  mortal,  until  he  took  out  a  commonplace  description  of  pocket- 
book,  and  handed  me  this  card." 

"  Mr.  Fips,"  said  Tom,  reading  it  aloud.  "  Austin  Friars.  Austin 
Friars  sounds  ghostly,  John." 

"  Fips  don't,  I  think,"  was  John's  reply.  "  But  there  he  lives,  Tom, 
and  there  he  expects  us  to  call  this  morning.  And  now  you  know  as 
much  of  this  strange  incident  as  I  do,  upon  my  honour." 

Tom's  face,  between  his  exultation  in  the  hundred  pounds  a  year,  and 
his  wonder  at  this  narration,  was  only  to  be  equalled  by  the  face  of  his 
sister,  on  Avhich  there  sat  the  very  best  expression  of  blooming  surprise 
that  any  painter  could  have  wished  to  see.    What  the  beef-steak  pudding 


4:5Q  LIFE     AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

would  have  come  to,  if  it  had  not  been  by  this  time  finished,  astrology 
itself  could  hardly  determine. 

"  Tom,"  said  Ruth,  after  a  little  hesitation,  "  Perhaps  Mr.  Westlock, 
in  his  friendship  for  you,  knows  more  of  this  than  he  chooses  to  tell." 

"  No,  indeed  !"  cried  John,  eagerly.  "  It  is  not  so,  I  assure  you. 
I  wish  it  were.  I  cannot  take  credit  to  myself,  Miss  Pinch,  for  any 
such  thing.  All  that  I  know,  or,  so  far  as  I  can  judge,  am  likely  to 
know,  I  have  told  you." 

"  Could  n't  you  know  more  if  you  thought  proper  !"  said  Ruth,  scrap- 
ing the  pie-board  industriously. 

"  No,"  retorted  John.  "  Indeed,  no.  It  is  very  ungenerous  in  you, 
to  be  so  suspicious  of  me,  when  I  repose  implicit  faith  in  you.  I  have 
unbounded  confidence  in  the  pudding,  Miss  Pinch." 

She  laughed  at  this,  but  they  soon  got  back  into  a  serious  vein,  and 
discussed  the  subject  with  profound  gravity.  Whatever  else  was  obscure 
in  the  business,  it  appeared  to  be  quite  plain  that  Tom  was  offered  a 
salary  of  one  hundred  pounds  a  year  ;  and  this  being  the  main  point, 
the  surrounding  obscurity  rather  set  it  off  than  otherwise. 

Tom,  being  in  a  great  flutter,  wished  to  start  for  Austin  Friars 
instantly,  but  they  waited  nearly  an  hour,  by  John's  advice,  before  they 
departed.  Tom  made  himself  as  spruce  as  he  could  before  leaving  home, 
and  when  John  Westlock,  through  the  half- opened  parlour  door,  had 
glimpses  of  that  brave  little  sister  brushing  the  collar  of  his  coat  in  the 
passage,  taking  up  loose  stitches  in  his  gloves,  and  hovering  lightly  about 
and  about  him,  touching  him  up  here  and  there  in  the  height  of  her 
quaint,  little,  old-fashioned  tidiness,  he  called  to  mind  the  fancy-portraits 
of  her  on  the  wall  of  the  Pecksniffian  work-room,  and  decided  with 
uncommon  indignation  that  they  were  gross  libels,  and  not  half  pretty 
enough  :  though,  as  hath  been  mentioned  in  its  place,  the  artists  always 
made  those  sketches  beautiful,  and  he  had  drawn  at  least  a  score 
of  them  with  his  own  hands. 

"  Tom,"  he  said,  as  they  were  walking  along,  "  I  begin  to  think  you 
must  be  somebody's  son." 

"  I  suppose  I  am,"  Tom  answered  in  his  quiet  way. 

"  But  I  mean  somebody's  of  consequence." 

"Bless  your  heart,"  replied  Tom.  "My  poor  father  was  of  no 
consequence,  nor  my  mother  either." 

"  You  remember  them  perfectly,  then  ?" 

"  Remember  them  1  oh  dear  yes.  My  poor  mother  was  the  last.  She 
died  when  Ruth  was  a  mere  baby,  and  then  we  both  became  a  charge 
upon  the  savings  of  that  good  old  grandmother  I  used  to  tell  you  of. 
You  remember  !    Oh  !     There  's  nothing  romantic  in  our  history,  John." 

"  Very  well,"  said  John  in  quiet  despair.  "  Then  there  is  no  way  of 
accounting  for  my  visitor  of  this  morning.     So  we'll  not  try,  Tom." 

They  did  try  notwithstanding,  and  never  left  off  trying  until  they 
got  to  Austin  Friars,  where,  in  a  very  dark  passage  on  the  first  floor, 
oddly  situated  at  the  back  of  a  house,  across  some  leads,  they  found  a 
little  blear-eyed  glass  door  up  in  one  corner,  with  Mr.  Fips  painted 
on  it  in  characters  which  were  meant  to  be  transparent.  There  was 
also  a  wicked  old  sideboard  hiding  in  the  gloom  hard  by,  meditating 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  457 

designs  upon  the  ribs  of  visitors  ;  and  an  old  mat,  worn  into  lattice 
work,  which,  being  useless  as  a  mat  (even  if  anybody  could  have  seen  it, 
which  was  impossible),  had  for  many  years  directed  its  industry  into 
another  channel,  and  regularly  tripped  up  every  one  of  Mr.  Fips's  clients. 

Mr.  Fips,  hearing  a  violent  concussion  between  a  human  hat  and  his 
office  door,  was  apprised,  by  the  usual  means  of  communication,  that  some- 
body had  come  to  call  upon  him,  and  giving  that  somebody  admission, 
observed  that  it  was  "  rather  dark." 

"  Dark  indeed,"  John  whispered  in  Tom  Pinch's  ear.  "  Not  a 
bad  place  to  dispose  of  a  countryman  in,  I  should  think,  Tom." 

Tom  had  been  already  turning  over  in  his  mind  the  possibility  of  their 
having  been  tempted  into  that  region  to  furnish  forth  a  pie ;  but 
the  sight  of  Mr.  Fips,  who  was  small  and  spare,  and  looked  peaceable, 
and  wore  black  shorts  and  powder,  dispelled  his  doubts. 

"  Walk  in,"  said  Mr.  Fips. 

They  walked  in.  And  a  mighty  yellow-jaundiced  little  office  Mr.  Fips 
had  of  it  :  with  a  great,  black,  sprawling  splash  upon  the  floor  in  one 
corner,  as  if  some  old  clerk  had  cut  his  throat  there,  years  ago,  and  had 
let  out  ink  instead  of  blood. 

"  I  have  brought  my  friend  Mr.  Pinch,  sir,"  said  John  Westlock. 

"  Be  pleased  to  sit,"  said  Mr.  Fips. 

They  occupied  the  two  chairs,  and  Mr.  Fips  took  the  office  stool, 
from  the  stuffing  whereof  he  drew  forth  a  piece  of  horsehair  of  immense 
length,  which  he  put  into  his  mouth  with  a  great  appearance  of 
appetite. 

He  looked  at  Tom  Pinch  curiously,  but  with  an  entire  freedom  from 
any  such  expression  as  could  be  reasonably  construed  into  an  unusual 
display  of  interest.  After  a  short  silence,  during  which  Mr.  Fips  was 
so  perfectly  unembarrassed  as  to  render  it  manifest  that  he  could  have 
broken  it  sooner  without  hesitation,  if  he  had  felt  inclined  to  do  so,  he 
asked  if  Mr.  Westlock  had  made  his  offer  fully  known  to  Mr.  Pinch. 

John  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  And  you  think  it  worth  your  while,  sir,  do  you  ?"  Mr.  Fips  inquired 
of  Tom. 

"  I  think  it  a  piece  of  great  good  fortune,  sir,"  said  Tom.  "  I  am 
exceedingly  obliged  to  you  for  the  offer." 

"  Not  to  me,"  said  Mr.  Fips.     "  I  act  upon  instructions.'* 

"  To  your  friend,  sir,  then,"  said  Tom.  "  To  the  gentleman  with 
whom  I  am  to  engage,  and  whose  confidence  I  shall  endeavour  to 
deserve.  When  he  knows  me  better,  sir,  I  hope  he  will  not  lose  his  good 
opinion  of  me.  He  will  find  me  punctual  and  vigilant,  and  anxious  to 
do  what  is  right.  That  I  think  I  can  answer  for,  and  so,"  looking 
towards  him,  "  can  Mr.  Westlock." 

"  Most  assuredly,"  said  John. 

Mr.  Fips  appeared  to  have  some  little  difficulty  in  resuming  the  con- 
versation. To  relieve  himself,  he  took  up  the  wafer-stamp,  and  began 
stamping  capital  F's  all  over  his  legs. 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  "  that  my  friend  is  not,  at  this  present 
moment,  in  town." 

Tom's  countenance  fell ;  for  he  thought  this  equivalent  to  telling  him 


458  LIFE    AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

that  liis  appearance  did  not  answer ;  and  that  Tips  must  look  out  for 
somebody  else. 

"  When  do  you  think  he  will  be  in  town,  sir  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  can't  say  ;  it 's  impossible  to  tell.  I  really  have  no  idea.  But," 
said  Fips,  taking  off  a  very  deep  impression  of  the  wafer-stamp  upon  the 
calf  of  his  left  leg,  and  looking  steadily  at  Tom,  "  I  don't  know  that 
it 's  a  matter  of  much  consequence." 

Poor  Tom  inclined  his  head  deferentially,  but  appeared  to  doubt  that. 

"  I  say,"  repeated  Mr.  Fips,  "  that  I  don't  know  it 's  a  matter  of  much 
consequence.  The  business  lies  entirely  between  yourself  and  me, 
Mr.  Pinch.  With  reference  to  your  duties,  I  can  set  you  going  ;  and 
with  reference  to  your  salary,  I  can  pay  it.  Weekly,"  said  Mr.  Fips, 
putting  down  the  wafer-stamp,  and  looking  at  John  Westlock  and  Tom 
Pinch  by  turns,  "  weekly  ;  in  this  office  ;  at  any  time  between  the  hours 
of  four  and  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon."  As  Mr.  Fips  said  this,  he 
made  up  his  face  as  if  he  were  going  to  whistle.    But  he  didn't. 

"  You  are  very  good,"  said  Tom,  whose  countenance  was  now  suffused 
with  pleasure  :  "  and  nothing  can  be  more  satisfactory  or  straight- 
forward.    My  attendance  will  be  required — " 

"  From  half-past  nine  to  four  o'clock  or  so,  I  should  say,"  interrupted 
Mr.  Fips.     "  About  that." 

"  I  did  not  mean  the  hours  of  attendance,"  retorted  Tom,"  whidh  are- 
light  and  easy,  I  am  sure ;  but  the  place." 

"  Oh,  the  place  !      The  place  is  in  the  Temple." 

Tom  was  delighted. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  "  you  would  like  to  see  the  place  1 " 

"  Oh  dear  !"  cried  Tom.  "  I  shall  only  be  too  glad  to  consider  myself 
engaged,  if  you  will  allow  me  ;  without  any  further  reference  to  the  place." 

"  You  may  consider  yourself  engaged,  by  all  means,"  said  Mr.  Fips  : 
"you  couldn't  meet  me  at  the  Temple-Gate  in  Fleet-street,  in  an  hour 
from  this  time,  I  suppose,  could  you  ?" 

Certainly  Tom  could. 

"  Good,"  said  Mr.  Fips,  rising.  "  Then  I  will  show  you  the  place ; 
and  you  can  begin  your  attendance  to-morrow  morning.  In  an  hour, 
therefore.  I  shall  see  you,  too,  Mr.  Westlock  ?  Very  good.  Take  care 
how  you  go.     It 's  rather  dark." 

With  this  remark,  which  seemed  superfluous,  he  shut  them  out  upon 
the  staircase,  and  they  groped,  their  way  into  the  street  again. 

The  interview  had  done  so  little  to  remove  the  mystery  in  which 
Tom's  new  engagement  was  involved,  and  had  done  so  much  to  thicken 
it,  that  neither  could  help  smiling  at  the  puzzled  looks  of  the  other. 
They  agreed,  however,  that  the  introduction  of  Tom  to  his  new  office  and 
office  companions  could  hardly  fail  to  throw  a  light  upon  the  subject ; 
and  therefore  postponed  its  further  consideration  until  after  the  fulfil- 
ment of  the  appointment  they  had  made  with  Mr.  Fips. 

After  looking  in  at  John  Westlock's  chambers,  and  devoting  a  few 
spare  minutes  to  the  Boar's  Head,  they  issued  forth  again  to  the  place  of 
meeting.  The  time  agreed  upon  had  not  quite  come  ;  but  Mr.  Fips  was 
already  at  the  Temple  Gate,  and  expressed  his  satisfaction  at  their 
punctuality. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  459 

He  led  tlie  way  througli  sundry  lanes  and  courts,  into  one  more  quiet 
and  more  gloomy  than  the  rest,  and,  singling  out  a  certain  house,  ascended 
a  common  staircase  :  taking  from  his  pocket,  as  he  went,  a  bunch  of  rusty 
keys.  Stopping  before  a  door  upon  an  upper  story,  which  had  nothing 
but  a  yellow  smear  of  paint  where  custom  would  have  placed  the  tenant's 
name,  he  began  to  beat  the  dust  out  of  one  of  these  keys,  very  delibe- 
rately, upon  the  great  broad  hand-rail  of  the  balustrade. 

"  You  had  better  have  a  little  plug  made,"  he  said,  looking  round  at 
Tom,  after  blowing  a  shrill  whistle  into  the  barrel  of  the  key.  "  It 's 
the  only  way  of  preventing  them  from  getting  stopped  up.  You  '11  find 
the  lock  go  the  better,  too,  I  dare  say,  for  a  little  oil." 

Tom  thanked  him  ;  but  was  too  much  occupied  wit?i  his  'own  specu- 
lations, and  John  Westlock's  looks,  to  be  very  talkative.  In  the 
meantime,  Mr.  Fips  opened  the  door,  which  yielded  to  his  hand  very 
unwillingly,  and  with  a  horribly  discordant  sound.  He  took  the  key 
out  when  he  had  done  so  and  gave  it  to  Tom. 

"  Aye,  aye  !  "  said  Mr.  Fips.     "  The  dust  lies  rather  thick  here." 

Truly,  it  did.  Mr.  Fips  might  have  gone  so  far  as  to  say,  very 
thick.  It  had  accumulated  everywhere  ;  lay  deep  on  everything  ;  and 
in  one  part,  where  a  ray  of  sun  shone  through  a  crevice  in  the  shutter 
and  struck  upon  the  opposite  wall,  it  went  twirling  round  and  round 
like  a  gigantic  squirrel-cage. 

Dust  was  the  only  thing  in  the  place  that  had  any  motion  about  it. 
When  their  conductor  admitted  the  light  freely,  and  lifting  up  the 
heavy  window-sash,  let  in  the  summer  air,  he  showed  the  mouldering- 
furniture,  discoloured  wainscoting  and  ceiling,  rusty  stove,  and  ashy 
hearth,  in  all  their  inert  neglect.  Close  to  the  door  there  stood  a 
candlestick,  with  an  extinguisher  upon  it,  as  if  the  last  man  who  had 
been  there,  had  paused,  after  securing  a  retreat,  to  take  a  parting  look 
at  the  dreariness  he  left  behind,  and  then  had  shut  out  light  and 
life  together,  and  closed  the  place  up  like  a  tomb. 

There  were  two  rooms  on  that  floor  ;  and  in  the  first  or  outer  one  a 
narrow  staircase,  leading  to  two  more  above.  These  last  were  fitted  up  as 
bed-chambers.  Neither  in  them,  nor  in  the  rooms  below,  was  any  scarcity 
of  convenient  furniture  observable,  although  the  fittings  were  of  a  by-gone 
fashion  ;  but  solitude  and  want  of  use  seemed  to  have  rendered  it  unfit 
for  any  purposes  of  comfort,  and  to  have  given  it  a  grisly,  haunted  air. 

Moveables  of  every  kind  lay  strewn  about,  without  the  least  attempt 
at  order,  and  were  intermixed  with  boxes,  hampers,  and  all  sorts  of  lumber. 
On  all  the  floors  were  piles  of  books,  to  the  amount  perhaps  of  some  thou- 
sands of  volumes  :  these  still  in  bales  :  those  wrapped  in  paper,  as  they 
had  been  purchased  :  others  scattered  singly  or  in  heaps :  not  one  upon  the 
shelves  which  lined  the  walls.  To  these,  Mr.  Fips  called  Tom's  attention. 

"  Before  anything  else  can  be  done,  we  must  have  them  put  in  order, 
catalogued,  and  ranged  upon  the  book-shelves,  Mr.  Pinch.  That  will 
do  to  begin  with,  I  think,  sir." 

Tom  rubbed  his  hands  in  the  pleasant  anticipation  of  a  task  so  con- 
genial to  his  taste,  and  said  : 

"  An  occupation  full  of  interest  for  me,  I  assure  you.  It  will  occupy 
me,  perhaps,  until  Mr. " 


■460  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Until  Mr. ^"  repeated  Fips ;  as  mucli  as  to  ask  Tom  what  lie  was 

stopping  for. 

"  I  forgot  that  you  had  not  mentioned  the  gentleman's  name," 
said  Tom. 

"  Oh  !/'  cried  Mr.  Fips,  pulling  on  his  glove,  "  didn't  I  ?  No,  by-the- 
bye,  I  don't  think  I  did.  Ah  !  I  dare  say  he  '11  be  here  soon.  You  will 
get  on  very  well  together,  I  have  no  doubt.  I  wish  you  success,  I  am  sure. 
You  won't  forget  to  shut  the  door  ?  It  '11  lock  of  itself  if  you  slam  it. 
Half-past  nine,  you  know.  Let  us  say  from  half-past  nine  to  four,  or 
half-past  four,  or  thereabouts  ;  one  day,  perhaps,  a  little  earlier,  another 
day  perhaps  a  little  later,  according  as  you  feel  disposed,  and  as  you 
arrange  your  work.  Mr.  Fips,  Austin  Friars,  of  course  you'll  remem- 
ber ?     And  you  won* t  forget  to  slam  the  door,  if  you  please  1 " 

He  said  all  this  in  such  a  comfortable,  easy  manner,  that  Tom  could 
only  rub  his  hands,  and  nod  his  head,  and  smile  in  acquiescence,  which 
he  was  still  doing,  when  Mr.  Fips  walked  coolly  out. 

"  Why,  he 's  gone,"  cried  Tom. 

"  And  what 's  more,  Tom,"  said  John  Westlock,  seating  himself  upon 
a  pile  of  books,  and  looking  up  at  his  astonished  friend,  "he  is 
evidently  not  coming  back  again  :  so  here  you  are  installed.  Under 
rather  singular  circumstances,  Tom  ! " 

It  was  such  an  odd  affair  throughout,  and  Tom  standing  there  among 
the  books  with  his  hat  in  one  hand  and  the  key  in  the  other,  looked  so 
prodigiously  confounded,  that  his  friend  could  not  help  laughing 
heartily.  Tom  himself  was  tickled  :  no  less  by  the  hilarity  of  his 
friend,  than  by  the  recollection  of  the  sudden  manner  in  which  he  had 
been  brought  to  a  stop,  in  the  very  height  of  his  urbane  conference 
with  Mr.  Fips  ;  so  by  degrees  Tom  burst  out  laughing  too ;  and  each 
making  the  other  laugh  more,  they  fairly  roared. 

When  they  had  had  their  laugh  out,  which  did  not  happen  very  soon, 
for,  give  John  an  inch  in  that  way,  and  he  was  sure  to  take  several  ells, 
being  a  jovial,  good-tempered  fellow,  they  looked  about  them  more  closely, 
groping  among  the  lumber  for  any  'stray  means  of  enlightenment  that 
might  turn  up.  But  no  scrap  or  shred  of  information  could  they  find.  The 
books  were  marked  with  a  variety  of  owners'  names,  having,  no  doubt, 
been  bought  at  sales,  and  collected  here  and  there  at  diiferent  times  ; 
but  whether  any  one  of  these  names  belonged  to  Tom's  employer,  and, 
if  so,  which  of  them,  they  had  no  means  whatever  of  determining. 
It  occurred  to  John  as  a  very  bright  thought,  to  make  inquiry  at  the 
steward's  office,  to  whom  the  chambers  belonged,  or  by  whom  they  were 
held  ;  but  he  came  back  no  wiser  than  he  went,  the  answer  being, 
"  Mr.  Fips,  of  Austin  Friars." 

"  After  all,  Tom,  I  begin  to  think  it  lies  no  deeper  than  this.  Fips 
is  an  eccentric  man  ;  has  some  knowledge  of  Pecksniff;  despises  him, 
of  course  ;  has  heard  or  seen  enough  of  you  to  know  that  you  are  the 
man  he  w^ants  ;  and  engages  you  in  his  own  whimsical  manner." 

"  But  why  in  his  own  whimsical  manner  1 "  asked  Tom. 

"  Oh  !  why  does  any  man  entertain  his  own  whimsical  taste  1  Why 
does  Mr.  Fips  wear  shorts  and  powder,  and  Mr.  Fips's  next  door 
neighbour  boots  and  a  wig  1 " 


i'!:i::.i' 


lllfe^ 


(?//>/ciyZ^oi^<y 


f^/'z<y^^a//r^/^r?r,  o/,.  ^M/'.-  ^^^rc.  v/ 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  4G1 

Tom,  being  in  that  state  of  mind  in  which  any  explanation  is  a 
great  relief,  adopted  this  last  one  (which  indeed  was  quite  as  feasible 
as  any  other)  readily,  and  said  he  had  no  doubt  of  it.  Nor  was  his  faith 
at  all  shaken  by  his  having  said  exactly  the  same  thing  to  each  sugges- 
tion of  his  friend's  in  turn,  and  being  perfectly  ready  to  say  it  again  if 
he  had  had  any  new  solution  to  propose. 

As  he  had  not,  Tom  drew  down  the  window  sash,  and  folded  the 
shutter  ;  and  they  left  the  rooms.  He  closed  the  door  heavily,  as 
Mr.  Fips  had  desired  him  ;  tried  it,  found  it  all  fast,  and  put  the  key 
in  his  pocket. 

They  made  a  pretty  wide  circuit  in  going  back  to  Islington,  as  they 
had  time  to  spare  ;  and  Tom  was  never  tired  of  looking  about  him. 
It  was  well  he  had  John  Westlock  for  his  companion,  for  most  people 
would  have  becm  weary  of  his  perpetual  stoppages  at  shop-windows,  and 
his  frequent  dashes  into  the  crowded  carriage-way  at  the  peril  of  his 
life,  to  get  the  better  view  of  church  steeples,  and  other  public  buildings. 
But  John  was  charmed  to  see  him  so  much  interested,  and  every  time 
Tom  came  back  with  a  beaming  face  from  among  the  wheels  of  carts 
and  hackney-coaches,  wholly  unconscious  of  the  personal  congratulations 
addressed  to  him  by  the  drivers,  John  seemed  to  like  him  better  than 
before. 

There  was  no  flour  on  Ruth's  hands  when  she  received  them  in  the 
triangular  parlour,  but  there  were  pleasant  smiles  upon  her  face,  and  a 
crowd  of  welcomes  shining  out  of  every  one,  and  gleaming  in  her  bright 
eyes.  By-the-bye,  how  bright  they  were  !  Looking  into  them  for  but  a 
moment,  when  you  took  her  hand,  you  saw  in  each  such  a  capital 
miniature  of  yourself,  representing  you  as  such  a  restless,  flashing,  eager, 
brilliant  little  fellow — 

Ah !  if  you  could  only  have  kept  them  for  your  own  miniature  !  But 
wicked,  roving,  restless,  too  impartial  eyes,  it  was  enough  for  any  one 
to  stand  before  them,  and  straightway,  there  he  danced  and  sparkled 
quite  as  merrily  as  you. 

The  table  was  already  spread  for  dinner ;  and  though  it  was  spread 
with  nothing  very  choice  in  the  way  of  glass  or  linen,  and  with  green- 
handled  knives,  and  very  mountebanks  of  two-pronged  forks,  which 
seemed  to  be  trying  how  far  asunder  they  could  possibly  stretch  their 
legs,  without  converting  themselves  into  double  the  number  of  iron 
toothpicks  j  it  wanted  neither  damask,  silver,  gold,  nor  china  :  no,  nor 
any  other  garniture  at  all.  There  it  was  :  and,  being  there,  nothing 
else  would  have  done  as  well. 

The  success  of  that  initiative  dish  :  that  first  experiment  of  hers  in 
cookery :  was  so  entire,  so  unalloyed  and  perfect,  that  John  Westlock 
and  Tom  agreed  she  must  have  been  studying  the  art  in  secret  for  a  long 
time  past ;  and  urged  her  to  make  a  full  confession  of  the  fact.  They 
were  exceedingly  merry  over  this  jest,  and  many  smart  things  were  said 
concerning  it ;  but  John  was  not  as  fair  in  his  behaviour  as  might  have 
been  expected,  for,  after  luring  Tom  Pinch  on  for  a  long  time,  he 
suddenly  went  over  to  the  enemy,  and  swore  everything  his  sister  said. 
However,  as  Tom  observed  the  same  night  before  going  to  bed,  it  was  only 
in  joke,  and  John  had  always  been  famous  for  being  polite  to  ladies, 


462  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

even  wlien  he  was  quite  a  boy.    Buth  said,  f  Oh!  indeed  !  "'  She  didn't 
say  anything  else. 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  three  people  may  find  to  talk  about. 
They  scarcely  left  off  talking  once.  And  it  was  not  all  lively  chat  which 
occupied  them  ;  for  when  Tom  related  how  he  had  seen  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
daughters)  and  what  a  change  had  fallen  on  the  younger,  they  were 
very  serious. 

John  Westlock  became  quite  absorbed  in  her  fortunes  ;  asking  many 
questions  of  Tom  Pinch  about  her  marriage,  inquiring  whether  her 
husband  was  the  gentleman  whom  Tom  had  brought  to  dine  with  him 
at  Salisbury ;  in  what  degree  of  relationship  they  stood  towards  each 
other,  being  different  persons  ;  and  taking,  in  short,  the  greatest  inte- 
rest in  the  subject.  Tom  then  went  into  it,  at  full  length  ;  he  told 
how  Martin  had  gone  abroad,  and  had  not  been  heard  of  for  a  long 
time ;  how  Dragon  Mark  had  borne  him  company  ;  how  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff had  got  the  poor  old  doting  grandfather  into  his  power ;  and 
how  he  basely  sought  the  hand  of  Mary  Graham.  But  not  a  word 
said  Tom  of  what  lay  hidden  in  his  heart ;  his  heart,  so  deep,  and  true, 
and  full  of  honour,  and  yet  with  so  much  room  for  every  gentle  and 
unselfish  thought ;  not  a  word. 

Tom,  Tom  !  The  man  in  all  this  world  most  confident  in  his  sagacity 
and  shrewdness  ;  the  man  in  all  this  world  most  proud  of  his  distrust  of 
other  men,  and  having  most  to  show  in  gold  and  silver  as  the  gains 
belonging  to  his  creed  j  the  meekest  favourer  of  that  wise  doctrine, 
Every  man  for  himself,  and  God  for  us  all  (there  being  high  wisdom 
in  the  thought  that  the  Eternal  Majesty  of  Heaven  ever  was,  or  can  be, 
on  the  side  of  selfish  lust  and  love  !)  :  shall  never  find  ;  oh,  never  find, 
be  sure  of  that :  the  time  come  home  to  him,  when  all  his  wisdom  is  an 
idiot's  folly,  weighed  against  a  simple  heart ! 

Well,  well,  Tom,  it  was  simple,  too,  though  simple  in  a  different  way, 
to  be  so  eager  touching  that  same  theatre,  of  which  John  said,  when  tea 
was  done,  he  had  the  absolute  command,  so  far  as  taking  parties  in 
without  the  payment  of  a  sixpence,  was  concerned  ;  and  simpler  yet, 
perhaps,  never  to  suspect  that  when  he  went  in  first,  alone,  he  paid  the 
money  !  Simple  in  thee,  dear  Tom,  to  laugh  and  cry  so  heartily,  at  such 
a  sorry  show  so  poorly  shown  ;  simple,  to  be  so  happy  and  loquacious 
trudging  home  with  Ruth  ;  simple,  to  be  so  surprised  to  find  that  merry 
present  of  a  cookery-book,  awaiting  her  in  the  parlour  next  morning, 
with  the  beefsteak-pudding-leaf  turned  down,  and  blotted  out.  There  ! 
Let  the  record  stand  !  Thy  quality  of  soul  was  simple,  simple  j  quite 
contemptible,  Tom  Pinch ! 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THE   PINCHES    MAKE    A   NEW    ACQUAINTANCE,    AND    HAVE    FRESH    OCCASION 
FOR    SURPRISE    AND    WONDER. 

There  was  a  ghostly  air  about  these  uninhabited  chambers  in  the 
Temple,  and  attending  every  circumstance  of  Tom's  employment  there, 
which  had  a  strange  charm  in  it.  Every  morning  when  he  shut  his 
door  at  Islington,  he  turned  his  face  towards  an  atmosphere  of  unac- 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  463 

countable  fascination,  as  sorely  as  he  turned  it  to  tlie  London  smoke ; 
and  from  that  moment,  it  thickened  round  and  round  him  all  day  long, 
until  the  time  arrived  for  going  home  again,  and  leaving  it,  like  a 
motionless  cloud,  behind. 

It  seemed  to  Tom,  every  morning,  that  he  approached  this  ghostly 
mist,  and  became  enveloped  in  it,  by  the  easiest  succession  of  degrees 
imaginable.  Passing  from  the  roar  and  rattle  of  the  streets  into  the 
quiet  court-yards  of  the  Temple,  was  the  first  preparation.  Every  echo 
of  his  footsteps  sounded  to  him  like  a  sound  from  the  old  walls  and 
pavements,  wanting  language  to  relate  the  histories  of  the  dim,  dismal 
rooms  ;  to  tell  him  what  lost  documents  were  decaying  in  forgotten 
corners  of  the  shut-up  cellars,  from  whose  lattices  such  mouldy  sighs 
came  breathing  forth  as  he  went  past ;  to  whisper  of  dark  bins  of  rare 
old  wine,  bricked  up  in  vaults  among  the  old  foundations  of  the  Halls  ; 
or  mutter  in  a  lower  tone  yet  darker  legends  of  the  cross-legged  knights, 
whose  marble  effigies  were  in  the  church.  With  the  first  planting  of 
his  foot  upon  the  staircase  of  his  dusty  ofiice,  all  these  mysteries  increased ; 
until  ascending  step  by  step,  as  Tom  ascended,  they  attained  their  full 
growth  in  the  solitary  labours  of  the  day. 

Every  day  brought  one  recurring,  never-failing  source  of  speculation. 
This  employer ;  would  he  come  to-day,  and  what  would  he  be  like  ^ 
Por  Tom  could  not  stop  short  at  Mr.  Eips  ;  he  quite  believed  that  Mr. 
Eips  had  spoken  truly,  when  he  said  he  acted  for  another ;  and  what 
manner  of  man  that  other  was,  became  a  full-blown  flower  of  wonder  in 
the  garden  of  Tom's  fancy,  which  never  faded  or  got  trodden  down. 

At  one  time  he  conceived  that  Mr.  Pecksnifi",  repenting  of  his  false- 
hood, might,  by  exertion  of  his  influence  with  some  third  person,  have 
devised  these  means  of  giving  him  employment.  He  found  this  idea  so 
insupportable  after  what  had  taken  place  between  that  good  man  and 
himself,  that  he  confided  it  to  John  Westlock  on  the  very  same  day  ; 
informing  John  that  he  would  rather  ply  for  hire  as  a  porter,  than  fall 
so  low  in  his  own  esteem  as  to  accept  the  smallest  obligation  from  the 
hands  of  Mr.  Pecksniff".  But  John  assured  him  that  he  (Tom  Pinch)  was 
far  from  doing  justice  to  the  character  of  Mr.  Pecksniff  yet,  if  he  supposed 
that  gentleman  capable  of  performing  a  generous  action  ;  and  that  he 
might  make  his  mind  quite  easy  on  that  head,  until  he  saw  the  sun  turn 
green  and  the  moon  black,  and  at  the  same  time  distinctly  perceived 
with  the  naked  eye,  twelve  first-rate  comets  careering  round  those 
planets.  In  which  unusual  state  of  things,  he  said  (and  not  before), 
it  might  become  not  absolutely  lunatic  to  suspect  Mr.  Pecksniff"  of 
anything  so  monstrous.  In  short  he  laughed  the  idea  down,  com- 
pletely ;  and  Tom,  abandoning  it,  was  thrown  upon  his  beam-ends  again 
for  some  other  solution. 

In  the  meantime  Tom  attended  to  his  duties  daily,  and  made  consi- 
derable progress  with  the  books  :  which  were  already  reduced  to  some 
sort  of  order,  and  made  a  great  appearance  in  his  fairly-written  cata- 
logue. During  his  business  hours,  he  indulged  himself  occasionally 
with  snatches  of  reading  ;  which  were  often  indeed  a  necessary  part  of 
his  pursuit ;  and  as  he  usually  made  bold  to  carry  one  of  these  goblin 
volumes  home  at  night  (always  bringing  it  back  again  next  morning,  in 


4G4  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

case  his  strange  employer  should  appear  and  ask  what  had  become  of 
it),  he  led  a  happy,  quiet,  studious  kind  of  life,  after  his  own  heart. 

But  though  the  books  were  never  so  interesting,  and  never  so  full  of 
novelty  to  Tom,  they  could  not  so  enchain  him,  in  those  mysterious  cham- 
bers, as  to  render  him  unconscious  for  a  moment  of  the  lightest  sound. 
Any  footstep  on  the  flags  without,  set  him  listening  attentively,  and 
when  it  turned  into  that  house,  and  came  up,  up,  up,  the  stairs,  he 
always  thought  with  a  beating  heart,  "  Now  I  am  coming  face  to  face 
with  him,  at  last !  "  But  no  footstep  ever  passed  the  floor  immediately 
below  :  except  his  own. 

This  mystery  and  loneliness  engendered  fancies  in  Tom's  mind,  the 
folly  of  which  his  common  sense  could  readily  discover,  but  which  his 
common  sense  was  quite  unable  to  keep  away,  notwithstanding ;  that 
quality  being  with  most  of  us,  in  such  a  case,  like  the  old  French  Police 
— quick  at  detection,  but  very  weak  as  a  preventive  power.  Misgivings, 
undefined,  absurd,  inexplicable,  that  there  was  some  one  hiding  in  the 
inner  room  ;  walking  softly  overhead,  peeping  in  through  the  door- 
chink  ;  doing  something  stealthy,  anywhere  where  he  was  not ;  came 
over  him  a  hundred  times  a  day :  making  it  pleasant  to  throw  up  the  sash, 
and  hold  communication  even  with  the  sparrows  who  had  built  in  the  roof 
and  water-spout,  and  were  twittering  about  the  windows  all  day  long. 

He  sat  with  the  outer  door  wide  open  at  all  times,  that  he  might  hear 
the  footsteps  as  they  entered,  and  turned  oif  into  the  chambers  on  the 
lower  floors.  He  formed  odd  prepossessions  too,  regarding  strangers  in  the 
streets  ;  and  would  say  within  himself  of  such  or  such  a  man,  who  struck 
him  as  having  anything  uncommon  in  his  dress  or  aspect,  "  I  should  n't 
wonder  now  if  that  were  he  ! "  But  it  never  was.  And  though  he  actually 
turned  back  and  followed  more  than  one  of  these  suspected  individuals, 
in  a  singular  belief  that  they  were  going  to  the  place  he  was  then  upon 
his  way  from,  he  never  got  any  other  satisfaction  by  it,  than  the  satis- 
faction of  knowing  it  was  not  the  case. 

Mr.  Tips,  of  Austin  Friars,  rather  deepened  than  illumined  the 
obscurity  of  his  position  ;  for  on  the  first  occasion  of  Tom's  waiting  on 
him  to  receive  his  weekly  pay,  he  said  : 

"  Oh  !  by-the-bye,  Mr.  Pinch,  you  need  n't  mention  it,  if  you  please  !  '* 

Tom  thought  he  was  going  to  tell  him  a  secret ;  so  he  said  that  he 
would  n't  on  any  account,  and  that  Mr.  Fips  might  entirely  depend 
upon  him.  But  as  Mr.  Fips  said  "  Very  good,"  in  reply,  and  nothing 
more,  Tom  prompted  him  : 

"  Not  on  any  account,"  repeated  Tom. 

Mr.  Fips  repeated  "  Very  good." 

"  You  were  going  to  say" — Tom  hinted. 

"  Oh  dear  no  !"  cried  Fips.  "  Not  at  all."  However,  seeing  Tom  con- 
fused, he  added,  "I  mean  that  you  needn't  mention  any  particulars  about 
your  place  of  employment,  to  people  generally.    You'll  find  it  better  not.'^ 

"  I  have  not  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  my  employer  yet,  sir,"  observed 
Tom,  putting  his  week's  salary  in  his  pocket. 

"  Have  n't  you  ? "  said  Fips.    "  No,  I  don't  suppose  you  have  though. 

"  I  should  like  to  thank  him,  and  to  know  that  what  I  have  done  so 
far,  is  done  to  his  satisfaction,"  faltered  Tom. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  4G5 

"  Quite  right,"  said  islr.  Fips,  witli  a  yawn.  "  Highly  creditable. 
Very  proper." 

Tom  hastily  resolved  to  try  him  on  another  tack. 

"  I  shall  soon  have  finished  with  the  books,"  he  said.  "  I  hope  that 
will  not  terminate  my  engagement,  sir,  or  render  me  useless." 

"  Oh  dear  no  ! "  retorted  Fips.  "  Plenty  to  do  :  plen-ty  to  do  !  Be 
careful  how  you  go.     It 's  rather  dark." 

This  was  the  very  utmost  extent  of  information  Tom  could  ever  get 
out  of  him.  So  it  was  dark  enough  in  all  conscience  ;  and  if  j\Ir.  Fips 
expressed  himself  with  a  double  meaning,  he  had  good  reason  for  doing  so. 

But  now  a  circumstance  occurred,  which  helped  to  divert  Tom's 
thoughts  from  even  this  mystery,  and  to  divide  them  between  it  and  a 
new  channel,  which  was  a  very  Nile  in  itself. 

The  way  it  came  about  was  this.  Having  always  been  an  early  riser, 
and  having  now  no  Organ  to  engage  him  in  sweet  converse  every  morn- 
ing, it  was  his  habit  to  take  a  long  walk  before  going  to  the  Temple  ; 
and  naturally  inclining,  as  a  stranger,  towards  those  parts  of  the  town 
which  were  conspicuous  for  the  life  and  animation  pervading  them,  he 
became  a  great  frequenter  of  the  market-places,  bridges,  quays,  and 
especially  the  steam-boat  wharves ;  for  it  was  very  lively  and  fresh  to  see 
the  people  hurrying  away  upon  their  many  schemes  of  business  or  plea- 
sure ;  and  it  made  Tom  glad  to  think  that  there  was  that  much  change 
and  freedom  in  the  monotonous  routine  of  city  lives. 

In  most  of  these  morning  excursions  Euth  accompanied  him.  As  their 
landlord  was  always  up  and  away  at  his  business  (whatever  that  might  be, 
no  one  seemed  to  know)  at  a  very  early  hour,  the  habits  of  the  people 
of  the  house  in  which  they  lodged  corresponded  with  their  own.  Thus, 
they  had  often  finished  their  breakfast,  and  were  out  in  the  summer-air, 
by  seven  o'clock.  After  a  two  hours'  stroll  they  parted  at  some  conve- 
nient point  :  Tom  going  to  the  Temple,  and  his  sister  returning  home, 
as  methodically  as  you  please. 

Many  and  many  a  pleasant  stroll  they  had  in  Coven t-Garden  Market : 
snuffing  up  the  perfume  of  the  fruits  and  flowers,  wondering  at  the 
magnificence  of  the  pine-apples  and  melons ;  catching  glimpses  down 
side-avenues,  of  rows  and  rows  of  old  women,  seated  on  inverted  baskets 
shelling  peas  ;  looking  unutterable  things  at  the  fat  bundles  of  asparagus 
with  which  the  dainty  shops  were  fortified  as  with  a  breastwork  ;  and, 
at  the  herbalists'  doors,  gratefully  inhaling  scents  as  of  veal-stuffing  yet 
uncooked,  dreamily  mixed  up  with  capsicums,  brown-paper,  seeds  :  even 
with  hints  of  lusty  snails  and  fine  young  curly  leeches.  Many  and  many 
a  pleasant  stroll  they  had  among  the  poultry  markets,  where  ducks 
and  fowls,  with  necks  unnaturally  long,  lay  stretched  out  in  pairs, 
ready  for  cooking  ;  where  there  were  speckled  eggs  in  mossy  baskets  ; 
white  country  sausages  beyond  impeachment  by  surviving  cat  or  dog, 
or  horse  or  donkey  ;  new  cheeses  to  any  wild  extent ;  live  birds  in  coops 
and  cages,  looking  much  too  big  to  be  natural,  in  consequence  of  those 
receptacles  being  much  too  little  ;  rabbits,  alive  and  dead,  innumerable. 
Many  a  pleasant  stroll  they  had  among  the  cool,  refreshing,  silvery  fish- 
stalls,  with  a  kind  of  moonlight  effect  about  their  stock  in  trade,  except- 
ing always  for  the  ruddy  lobsters.  ]\Iany  a  pleasant  stroll  among  the 
waggon-loads  of  fragrant  hay,  beneath  which  dogs  and  tired  waggoners  lay 

H   H 


465  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

fast  asleep,  oblivious  of.  the  pieman  and  the  public-house.    But  never  half 
so  good  a  stroll,  as  down  among  the  steam-boats  on  a  bright  morning. 

There  they  lay,  alongside  of  each  other ;  hard  and  fast  for  ever,  to  all 
appearance,  but  designing  to  get  out  somehow,  and  quite  confident  of 
doing  it ;  and  in  that  faith  shoals  of  passengers,  and  heaps  of  luggage, 
were  proceeding  hurriedly  on  board.  Little  steamboats  dashed  up  and 
down  the  stream  incessantly.  Tiers  upon  tiers  of  vessels,  scores  of  masts, 
labyrinths  of  tackle,  idle  sails,  splashing  oars,  gliding  row-boats,  lumber- 
ing barges ;  sunken  piles,  with  ugly  lodgings  for  the  water-rat  within  their 
mud-discoloured  nooks  ;  church  steeples,  warehouses,  house-roofs,  arches, 
bridges,  men  and  women,  children,  casks,  cranes,  boxes,  horses,  coaches, 
idlers,  and  hard-labourers  :  there  they  were,  all  jumbled  up  together,  any 
summer  morning,  far  beyond  Tom's  power  of  separation. 

In  the  midst  of  all  this  turmoil,  there  was  an  incessant  roar  from 
every  packet's  funnel,  which  quite  expressed  and  carried  out  the  upper- 
most emotion  of  the  scene.  They  all  appeared  to  be  perspiring  and 
bothering  themselves,  exactly  as  their  passengers  did  ;  they  never  left  off 
fretting  and  chafing,  in  their  own  hoarse  manner,  once  ;  but  were  always 
panting  out,  without  any  stops,  "  Come  along  do  make  haste  I  'm  very 
nervous  come  along  oh  good  gracious  we  shall  never  get  there  how 
late  you  are  do  make  haste  I  'm  off  directly  come  along  !"  Even  when 
they  had  left  off,  and  had  got  safely  out  into  the  current,  on  the  smallest 
provocation  they  began  again  :  for  the  bravest  packet  of  them  all,  being 
stopped  by  some  entanglement  in  the  river,  would  immediately  begin  to 
fume  and  pant  afresh,  "  Oh  here  's  a  stoppage  what 's  the  matter  do  go 
on  there  I  'm  in  a  hurry  it 's  done  on  purpose  did  you  ever  oh  my 
goodness  do  go  on  there  !"  and  so,  in  a  state  of  mind  bordering  on  dis- 
traction, would  be  last  seen  drifting  slowly  through  the  mist  into  the 
summer  light  beyond,  that  made  it  red. 

Tom's  ship,  however ;  or,  at  least,  the  packet-boat  in  which  Tom  and 
his  sister  took  the  greatest  interest  on  one  particular  occasion  ;  was  not 
off  yet,  by  any  means ;  but  was  at  the  height  of  its  disorder.  The  press 
of  passengers  was  very  great ;  another  steam-boat  lay  on  each  side  of  her; 
the  gangways  were  choked  up  ;  distracted  women,  obviously  bound  for 
Gravesend,  but  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  all  representations  that  this  parti- 
cular vessel  was  about  to  sail  for  Antwerp,  persisted  in  secreting  baskets 
of  refreshments  behind  bulk-heads  and  water-casks,  and  under  seats ; 
and  very  great  confusion  prevailed. 

It  was  so  amusing,  that  Tom,  with  Pvuth  upon  his  arm,  stood  looking 
down  from  the  wharf,  as  nearly  regardless  as  it  was  in  the  nature  of. 
flesh  and  blood  to  be,  of  an  elderly  lady  behind  him,  who  had  brought  a 
large  umbrella  with  her,  and  didn't  know  what  to  do  with  it.  This 
tremendous  instrument  had  a  hooked  handle  ;  and  its  vicinity  was  first 
made  known  to  him  by  a  painful  pressure  on  the  windpipe,  consequent 
upon  its  having  caught  him  round  the  throat.  Soon  after  disengaging 
himself  with  perfect  good  humour,  he  had  a  sensation  of  the  ferrule  in 
his  back ;  immediately  afterwards,  of  the  hook  entangling  his  ankles  ; 
then  of  the  umbrella  generally,  wandering  about  his  hat,  and  flapping 
at  it  like  a  great  bird  j  and,  lastly,  of  a  poke  or  thrust  below  the  ribs, 
which  gave  him  such  exceeding  anguish,  that  he  could  not  refrain  from 
turning  round,  to  offer  a  mild  remonstrance. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  467 

Upon  his  turning  round,  he  found  the  owner  of  the  umbrella  strug- 
gling, on  tiptoe,  with  a  countenance  expressive  of  violent  animosity,  to 
look  down  upon  the  steamboats  ;  from  which  he  inferred  that  she  had  at- 
tacked him  :  standingin  the  front  row :  by  design,  and  as  her  natural  enemy. 

"  What  a  very  ill-natured  person  you  must  be  !"  said  Tom. 

The  lady  cried  out  fiercely,  "  Where  'sthe  pelisse !" — meaning  the  con- 
stabulary— and  went  on  to  say,  shaking  the  handle  of  the  umbrella  at 
Tom,  that  but  for  them  fellers  never  being  in  the  way  when  they  was 
wanted,  she  'd  have  given  him  in  charge,  she  would. 

"  If  they  greased  their  whiskers  less,  and  minded  the  duties  which 
they're  paid  so  heavy  for,  a  little  more,"  she  observed,  "  no  one  needn't 
be  drove  mad  by  scrouding  so  !  " 

She  had  been  grievously  knocked  about,  no  doubt,  for  her  bonnet  was 
bent  into  the  shape  of  a  cocked  hat.  Being  a  fat  little  woman,  too,  she 
was  in  a  state  of  great  exhaustion  and  intense  heat.  Instead  of  pursu- 
ing the  altercation,  therefore,  Tom  civilly  inquired  what  boat  she  wanted 
to  go  on  board  of. 

"  I  suppose,"  returned  the  lady,  "  as  nobody  but  yourself  can  want 
to  look  at  a  steam  package,  without  wanting  to  go  a  boarding  of  it,  can 
they!    Booby!" 

"  ^^Tiich  one  do  you  want  to  look  at  then  ?  "  said  Tom.  «  We  '11 
make  room  for  you  if  we  can.     Don't  be  so  ill-tempered." 

"  No  blessed  creetur  as  ever  I  was  with  in  trying  times,"  returned 
the  lady,  somewhat  softened,  "  and  they  're  a  many  in  their  numbers, 
ever  brought  it  as  a  charge  again  myself  that  I  was  anythin  but  mild 
and  equal  in  my  spirits.  Never  mind  a  contradicting  of  me,  if  you  seems 
to  feel  it  does  you  good,  ma'am,  I  often  says,  for  well  you  know  that  Sairey 
maybe  trusted  not  to  give  it  back  again.  But  I  will  not  denige  that  I 
am  worrited  and  wexed  this  day,  and  with  good  reagion,  Lord  forbid  ! " 

By  this  time,  Mrs.  Gamp  (for  it  was  no  other  than  that  experienced 
practitioner)  had,  with  Tom's  assistance,  squeezed  and  worked  herself  into 
a  small  corner  between  Ruth  and  the  rail ;  where,  after  breathing  very  hard 
for  some  little  time,  and  performing  a  short  series  of  dangerous  evolutions 
with  the  umbrella,  she  managed  to  establish  herself  pretty  comfortably. 

"  And  which  of  all  them  smoking  monsters  is  the  Ankworks  boat, 
I  wonder.  Goodness  me  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  What  boat  did  you  want  V  asked  Ruth. 

"  The  Ankworks  package,"  iNIrs.  Gamp  replied.  "  I  will  not  deceive 
you,  my  sweet.     Why  should  I  ?" 

"  That  is  the  Antwerp  packet  in  the  middle,"  said  Ruth. 

"  And  I  wish  it  was  in  Jonadge's  belly,  I  do,"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp  ; 
appearing  to  confound  the  prophet  with  the  whale  in  this  miraculous 
aspiration. 

Ruth  said  nothing  in  reply ;  but  as  Mrs.  Gamp,  laying  her  chin 
against  the  cool  iron  of  the  rail,  continued  to  look  intently  at  the 
Antwerp  boat,  and  every  now  and  then  to  give  a  little  groan,  she 
inquired  whether  any  child  of  hers  was  going  abroad  that  morning  ? 
Or  perhaps  her  husband,  she  said  kindly. 

"  Which  shows,"  said  Mrs,  Gamp,  casting  up  her  eyes,  "  what  a  little 
way  you  've  travelled  into  this  wale  of  life,  my  dear  young  creetur.  As 
a  good  friend  of  mine  has  frequent  made  remark  to  me,  which  her 

H  H  2 


468  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

name,  my  love,  is  Harris,  Mrs.  Harris  through  the  square  and  up  the 
steps  a  turnin  round  by  the  tobacker  shop,  '  Oh  Sairey,  Sairey,  little  do 
we  know  wot  lays  afore  us  ! '  *  Mrs.  Harris  ma'am,'  I  says,  '  not  much, 
it 's  true,  but  more  than  you  suppoge.  Our  calcilations  ma'am,'  I  says, 
'  respectin  wot  the  number  of  a  family  will  be,  comes  most  times  within 
one,  and  oftener  than  you  would  suppoge,  exact.'  '  Sairey,'  says  Mrs. 
Harris,  in  a  awful  way,  '  Tell  me  wot  is  my  individgle  number.'  *  No, 
Mrs.  Harris,'  I  says  to  her,  *  ex-cuge  me,  if  you  please.  My  own,' 
I  says,  '  has  fallen  out  of  three-pair  backs,  and  had  damp  doorsteps 
settled  on  their  lungs,  and  one  was  turned  up  smilin  in  a  bedstead,  un- 
beknown. Therefore,  ma'am,'  I  says,  '  seek  not  to  proticipate,  but  take 
'em  as  they  come  and  as  they  go.'  Mine,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  mine  is  all 
gone,  my  dear  young  chick.  And  as  to  husbands,  there  's  a  wooden  leg 
gone  likeways  home  to  its  account,  which  in  its  constancy  of  walkin 
into  wine  vaults,  and  never  comin  out  again  'till  fetched  by  force,  was 
quite  as  weak  as  flesh,  if  not  weaker." 

When  she  had  delivered  this  oration,  Mrs.  Gamp  leaned  her  chin  upon 
the  cool  iron  again;  and  looking  intently  at  the  Antwerp  packet,  shook 
her  head  and  groaned. 

"  I  would  n't"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  I  would  n't  be  a  man  and  have  such  a 
think  upon  my  mind ! — but  nobody  as  owned  the  name  of  man,could  do  it!" 

Tom  and  his  sister  glanced  at  each  other  ;  and  Ruth,  after  a  moment's 
hesitation,  asked  Mrs.  Gamp  what  troubled  her  so  much. 

"  My  dear,"  returned  that  lady,  dropping  her  voice,  "  you  are  single, 
aVtyou?" 

Ftuth  laughed,  blushed,  and  said   "  Yes." 

"  Worse  luck,"  proceeded  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  for  all  parties  !  But  others 
is  married,  and  in  the  marriage  state  ;  and  there  is  a  dear  young  creetur 
a  comin'  down  this  mornin'  to  that  very  package,  which  is  no  more  fit  to 
trust  herself  to  sea,  than  nothiu'  is  !" 

She  paused  here,  to  look  all  over  the  deck  of  the  packet  in  question, 
and  on  the  steps  leading  down  to  it,  and  on  the  gangways.  Seeming  to 
have  thus  assured  herself  that  the  object  of  her  commiseration  had  not 
yet  arrived,  she  raised  her  eyes  gradually  up  to  the  top  of  the  escape- 
pipe,  and  indignantly  apostrophised  the  vessel : 

"  Oh  drat  you !"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking  her  umbrella  at  it,  "you  're 
a  nice  spluttering  noisy  monster  for  a  delicate  young  creetur  to  go  and 
be  a  passinger  by ;  a'n't  you  !  "  You  never  do  no  harm  in  that  way, 
do  you  1  With  your  hammering,  and  roaring,  and  hissing,  and  lamp- 
iling,  you  brute  !  Them  Confusion  steamers,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking 
her  umbrella  again,  "  has  done  more  to  throw  us  out  of  our  reg'lar 
work  and  bring  ewents  on  at  times  when  nobody  counted  on  'em  (espe- 
cially them  screeching  railroad  ones),  than  all  the  other  frights  that  ever 
was  took.  I  have  heerd  of  one  young  man,  a  guard  upon  a  railway, 
only  three  year  opened — well  does  Mrs.  Harris  know  him,  which  indeed 
he  is  her  own  relation  by  her  sister's  marriage  with  a  master  sawyer — as 
is  godfather  at  this  present  time  to  six-and-tvventy  blessed  little  strangers, 
equally  unexpected,  and  all  on  'um  named  after  the  Ingeins  as  was  the 
cause.  Ugh  !"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  resuming  her  apostrophe,  "one  might 
easy  know  you  was  a  man's  invention,  from  your  disregardlessness  of 
the  weakness  of  our  naturs,  so  one  might,  you  brute  1" 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  469 

It  would  not  Iiave  been  unnatural  to  suppose,  from  the  first  part  of 
Mrs.  Gamp's  lamentations,  that  she  was  connected  with  the  stage  coach- 
ing or  post-horsing  trade.  She  had  no  means  of  judging  of  the  effect 
of  her  concluding  remarks  upon  her  young  companion  ;  for  she  inter- 
rupted herself  at  this  point,  and  exclaimed  : 

"  There  she  identically  goes  !  Poor  sweet  young  creetur,  there  she 
goes,  like  a  lamb  to  the  sacrifige  !  If  there  's  any  illness  when  that 
wessel  gets  to  sea,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  prophetically,  "it's  murder,  and 
I'm  the  witness  for  the  persecution." 

She  was  so  very  earnest  on  the  subject,  that  Tom's  sister  (being  as 
kind  as  Tom  himself),  could  not  help  saying  something  to  her  in  reply. 

"  Pray  which  is  the  lady,"  she  inquired,  "  in  whom  you  are  so  much 
interested?" 

"  There  !  "  groaned  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  There  she  goes  !  A  crossin'  the 
little  wooden  bridge  at  this  minute.  She's  a  slippin'  on  a  bit  of  orange- 
peel !"  tightly  clutching  her  umbrella.     "What  a  turn  it  give  me!" 

"  Do  you  mean  the  lady  who  is  with  that  man  wrapped  up  from  head 
to  foot  in  a  large  cloak,  so  that  his  face  is  almost  hidden  1 " 

"  Well  he  may  hide  it ! "  Mrs.  Gamp  replied.  "  He 's  good  call  to  be 
ashamed  of  himself     Did  you  see  him  a  jerking  of  her  wrist,  then  ?" 

"  He  seems  to  be  hasty  with  her,  indeed." 

"  Now  he's  a  taking  of  her  down  into  the  close  cabin !"  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
impatiently.  "  What 's  the  man  about !  The  deuce  is  in  him  I  think. 
Why  can't  he  leave  her  in  the  open  air  ?  " 

He  did  not,  whatever  his  reason  was,  but  led  her  quickly  down  and 
disappeared  himself,  without  loosening  his  cloak,  or  pausing  on  the 
crowded  deck  one  moment  longer  than  was  necessary  to  clear  their  way 
to  that  part  of  the  vessel. 

Tom  had  not  heard  this  little  dialogue  ;  for  his  attention  had  been 
engaged  in  an  unexpected  manner.  A  hand  upon  his  sleeve  had  caused 
him  to  look  round  just  when  Mrs.  Gamp  concluded  her  apostrophe  to 
the  steam-engine  ;  and  on  his  right  arm,  Kuth  being  on  his  left,  he 
found  their  landlord  ;  to  his  great  surprise. 

He  was  not  so  much  surprised  at  the  man's  being  there,  as  at  his  having 
got  close  to  him  so  quietly  and  swiftly  j  for  another  person  had  been  at 
his  elbow  one  instant  before  ;  and  he  had  not  in  the  meantime  been 
conscious  of  any  change  or  pressure  in  the  knot  of  people  among  whom 
he  stood.  He  and  Ruth  had  frequently  remarked  how  noiselessly  this 
landlord  of  theirs  came  into  and  went  out  of  his  own  house ;  but  Tom 
was  not  the  less  amazed  to  see  him  at  his  elbow  now. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Pinch,"  he  said  in  his  ear.  "  I  am  rather  in- 
firm, and  out  of  breath,  and  my  eyes  are  not  very  good.  I  am  not  as  young 
as  I  was,  sir.  You  don't  see  a  gentleman  in  a  large  cloak  down  yonder, 
with  a  lady  on  his  arm ;  a  lady  in  a  veil  and  a  black  shawl ;  do  you  1 " 

If  /w  did  not,  it  was  curious  that  in  speaking  he  should  have  singled 
out  from  all  the  crowd  the  very  people  whom  he  described  :  and  should 
have  glanced  hastily  from  them  to  Tom,  as  if  he  were  burning  to  direct 
his  wandering  eyes. 

"A  gentleman  in  a  large  cloak  !"  said  Tom,  "and  a  lady  in  a  black 
shawl !     Let  me  see  !  " 
.  "  Yes,  yes  ! "  replied  the  other,  with  keen  impatience.     "'A  gentleman 


470  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

muffled  up  from  liead  to  foot — strangely  muffled  up  for  such  a  morning 
as  this — like  an  invalid,  with  his  hand  to  his  face  at  this  minute,  perhaps. 
No,  no,  no  !  not  there,"  he  added,  following  Tom's  gaze  ;  "  the  other 
way ;  in  that  direction ;  down  yonder."  Again  he  indicated,  but  this 
tipae  in  his  hurry,  with  his  outstretched  finger,  the  very  spot  on  which 
the  progress  of  these  persons  was  checked  at  that  moment. 

"There  are  so  many  people,  and  so  much  motion,  and  so  many 
objects,"  said  Tom,  "that  I  find  it  difficult  to — no,  I  really  don't  see  a 
gentleman  in  a  large  cloak,  and  a  lady  in  a  black  shawl.  There 's  a 
lady  in  a  red  shawl  over  there  !  " 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  cried  his  landlord,  pointing  eagerly  again,  "  not 
there.  The  other  way  :  the  other  way.  Look  at  the  cabin  steps.  To 
the  left.  They  must  be  near  the  cabin  steps.  Do  you  see  the  cabin 
steps  1     There  's  the  bell  ringing  already  !     Do  you  see  the  steps  1 " 

"  Stay  ! "  said  Tom,  "  you  're  right.  Look  !  there  they  go  now.  Is 
that  the  gentleman  you  mean  1  Descending  at  this  minute  j  with  the 
folds  of  a  great  cloak  trailing  down  after  him  1 " 

"  The  very  man  ! "  returned  the  other,  not  looking  at  what  Tom 
pointed  out,  however,  but  at  Tom's  own  face.  "  Will  you  do  me  a  kind- 
ness, sir,  a  great  kindness  1  Will  you  put  that  letter  in  his  hand  ?  Only: 
give  him  that  1  He  expects  it.  I  am  charged  to  do  it  by  my  employers, 
but  I  am  late  in  finding  him,  and,  not  being  as  young  as  I  have  been, 
should  never  be  able  to  make  my  way  on  board  and  off  the  deck  again 
in  time.  Will  you  pardon  my  boldness,  and  do  me  that  great  kind- 
ness ?" 

His  hands  shook,  and  his  face  bespoke  the  utmost  interest  and 
agitation,  as  he  pressed  the  letter  upon  Tom,  and  pointed  to  its  destina- 
tion, like  the  Tempter  in  some  grim  old  carving. 

To  hesitate  in  the  performance  of  a  good-natured  or  compassionate 
office,  was  not  in  Tom's  way.  He  took  the  letter ;  whispered  Ruth  to 
wait  till  he  returned,  which  would  be  immediately ;  and  ran  down 
the  steps  with  all  the  expedition  he  could  make.  There  were  so  many 
people  going  down,  so  many  others  coming  up,  such  heavy  goods  in 
course  of  transit  to  and  fro,  such  a  ringing  of  bells,  blowing-off  of  steam, 
and  shouting  of  men's  voices,  that  he  had  much  ado  to  force  his  way, 
or  keep  in  mind  to  which  boat  he  was  going.  But  he  reached  the 
right  one  with  good  speed,  and  going  down  the  cabin-stairs  immediately, 
descried  the  object  of  his  search  standing  at  the  further  end  of  the 
saloon,  with  his  back  towards  him,  reading  some  notice  which  was  hung 
against  the  wall.  As  Tom  advanced  to  give  him  the  letter,  he  started, 
hearing  footsteps,  and  turned  round. 

What  was  Tom's  astonishment  to  find  in  him  the  man  with  whom 
he  had  had  the  conflict  in  the  field,  poor  Mercy's  husband.  Jonas  ! 

Tom  understood  him  to  say,  what  the  devil  did  he  want ;  but  it  was 
not  easy  to  make  out  what  he  said  ;  he  spoke  so  indistinctly. 

"  I  want  nothing  with  you  for  myself  ;  "  said  Tom,  "  I  was  asked  a 
moment  since  to  give  you  this  letter.  You  were  pointed  out  to  me,  but 
I  did'nt  know  you  in  your  strange  dress.     Take  it !  " 

He  did  so,  opened  it,  and  read  the  writing  on  the  inside.  The  contents 
were  evidently  very  brief;  not  more  perhaps  than  one  line;  but  they 
struck  upon  him  like  a  stone  from  a  sling.     He  reeled  back  as  he  read. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  471 

His  emotion  was  so  different  from  any  Tom  had  ever  seen  before, 
that  he  stopped  involuntarily.  Momentary  as  his  state  of  indecision 
was,  the  bell  ceased  while  he  stood  there  ;  and  a  hoarse  voice  calling 
down  the  steps,  inquired  if  there  was  any  one  to  go  ashore. 

"Yes,"  cried  Jonas,  "I — I  am  coming.  Give  me  time.  Where's 
that  woman  !  Come  back  ;  come  back  here." 

He  threw  open  another  door  as  he  spoke,  and  dragged,  rather  than 
led,  her  forth.  She  was  pale  and  frightened,  and  amazed  to  see  her  old 
acquaintance ;  but  had  no  time  to  speak,  for  they  were  making  a  great 
stir  above ;  and  Jonas  drew  her  rapidly  towards  the  deck, 

"  Where  are  we  going  1    What  is  the  matter  ?  " 

"  We  are  going  back,"  said  Jonas,  wildly.  "  I've  changed  my  mind. 
I  can't  go.  Don't  question  me,  or  I  shall  be  the  death  of  you,  or  some 
one  else.  Stop  there  !  Stop  !  We  're  for  the  shore.  Do  you  hear  1  We  're 
for  the  shore  !  " 

He  turned,  even  in  the  madness  of  his  hurry,  and  scowling  darkly  back 
at  Tom,  shook  his  clenched  hand  at  him.  There  are  not  many  human 
faces  capable  of  the  expression  with  which  he  accompanied  that  gesture. 

He  dragged  her  up,  and  Tom  followed  them.  Across  the  deck,  over 
the  side,  along  the  crazy  plank,  and  up  the  steps,  he  dragged  her 
fiercely ;  not  bestowing  any  look  on  her,  but  gazing  upwards  all  the  while 
-among  the  faces  on  the  wharf.  Suddenly  he  turned  again,  and  said  to 
Tom  with  a  tremendous  oath  : 

''  Where  is  he  1  " 

Before  Tom,  in  his  indignation  and  amazement,  could  return  an 
answer  to  a  question  he  so  little  understood,  a  gentleman  approached 
Tom  behind,  and  saluted  Jonas  Chuzzlewit  by  name.  He  was  a  gentle- 
man of  foreign  appearance,  with  a  black  moustache  and  whiskers  ;  and 
addressed  him  with  a  polite  composure,  strangely  different  from  his  own 
distracted  and  desperate  manner. 

"  Chuzzlewit,  my  good  fellow  !  "  said  the  gentleman,  raising  his  hat 
in  compliment  to  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,  "  I  ask  your  pardon  twenty  thousand 
times.  I  am  most  unwilling  to  interfere  between  you  and  a  domestic 
trip  of  this  nature  (always  so  very  charming  and  refreshing,  I  know, 
although  I  have  not  the  happiness  to  be  a  domestic  man  myself,  which 
is  the  great  infelicity  of  my  existence)  :  but  the  bee-hive,  my  dear  friend, 
the  bee-hive — will  you  introduce  me  ? " 

"This  is  Mr.  Montague,"  said  Jonas,  whom  the  words  appeared  to  choke. 

"'  The  most  unhappy  and  most  penitent  of  men,  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit," 
pursued  that  gentleman,  "  for  having  been  the  means  of  spoiling  this 
excursion  ;  but  as  I  tell  my  friend,  the  bee-hive  ;  the  bee-hive.  You 
projected  a  short  little  continental  trip,  my  dear  friend,  of  course  1 " 

Jonas  maintained  a  dogged  silence. 

"  May  I  die  !  "  cried  IMontague,  "but  I  am  shocked.  Upon  my  soul 
I  am  shocked.  But  that  confounded  bee-hive  of  ours  in  the  city  must  be 
paramount  to  every  other  consideration,  when  there  is  honey  to  be 
made  ;  and  that  is  my  best  excuse.  Here  is  a  very  singular  old  female 
dropping  curtseys  on  my  right,"  said  Montague,  breaking  off  in  his 
discourse,  and  looking  at  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  who  is  not  a  friend  of  mine. 
Does  anybody  know  her  1 " 

"  Ah  1    Well  they  knows  me,    bless  their  precious   hearts  I "    said 


472  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

Mrs.  Gamp  ;  "  not  forgettin'  your  own  merry  one,  sir,  and  long  may  it 
be  so  !  Wishin'  as  every  one,"  (she  delivered  this  in  the  form  of  a  toast 
or  sentiment)  "  was  as  merry,  and  as  handsome-looking,  as  a  little  bird 
has  whispered  me  a  certain  gent  is,  which  I  will  not  name  for  fear 
I  give  offence  where  none  is  due  !  My  precious  lady,"  here  she  stopped 
short  in  her  merriment,  for  she  had  until  now  affected  to  be  vastly 
entertained,  "  you  're  too  pale  by  half !  " 

"  You  are  here  too,  are  you  1 "  muttered  Jonas.  "  Ecod,  there  are 
enough  of  you." 

"  I  hope,  sir,"  returned  Mrs.  Gamp,  dropping  an  indignant  curtsey, 
"  as  no  bones  is  broke  by  me  and  Mrs.  Harris  walkin'  down  upon  a 
public  wharf.  Which  was  the  very  words  she  says  to  me  (although  they 
was  the  last  I  ever  had  to  speak)  was  these  :  '  Sairey,'  she  says,  '  is  it  a 
public  wharf  ? '  '  Mrs.  Harris,'  I  makes  answer,  '  can  you  doubt  it  ? 
You  have  know'd  me,  now,  ma'am,  eight  and  thirty  year ;  and  did  you 
ever  know  me  go,  or  wish  to  go,  where  I  was  not  made  welcome,  say  the 
words.'  '  No,  Sairey,'  Mrs.  Harris  says,  '  contrairy  quite.'  And  well  she 
knows  it,  too.  I  am  but  a  poor  woman,  but  I  've  been  sought  arter,  sir, 
though  you  may  not  think  it.  I  've  been  knocked  up  at  all  hours  of  the 
night,  and  warned  out  by  a  many  landlords,  in  consequence  of  being 
mistook  for  Fire.  I  goes  out  working  for  my  bread,  'tis  true,  but  I 
maintains  my  indepency,  with  your  kind  leave,  and  which  I  will  till 
death.  I  has  my  feelins  as  a  woman,  sir,  and  I  have  been  a  mother 
likeways ;  but  touch  a  pipkin  as  belongs  to  me,  or  make  the  least 
remarks  on  what  I  eats  or  drinks,  and  though  you  was  the  favouritest 
young,  for'ard,  hussy  of  a  servant-gal  as  ever  come  into  a  house,  either  you 
leaves  the  place,  or  me.  My  earnins  is  not  great,  sir,  but  I  will  not  be 
impoged  upon.  Bless  the  babe,  and  save  the  mother,  is  my  motter,  sir  ; 
but  I  makes  so  free  as  add  to  that,  Don't  try  no  impogician  with  the 
Nuss,  for  she  will  not  abear  it  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  concluded  by  drawing  her  shawl  tightly  over  herself  with 
both  hands,  and,  as  usual,  referring  to  Mrs.  Harris  for  full  corroboration 
of  these  particulars.  She  had  that  peculiar  trembling  of  the  head,  which,  in 
ladies  of  her  excitable  nature,  may  be  taken  as  a  sure  indication  of  their 
breaking  out  again  very  shortly;  when  Jonas  made  a  timely  interposition. 

"  As  you  are  here,"  he  said,  "you  had  better  see  to  her,  and  take  her 
home.  I  am  otherwise  engaged."  He  said  nothing  more  ;  but  looked 
at  Montague,  as  if  to  give  him  notice  that  he  was  ready  to  attend  him. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  take  you  away,"  said  Montague. 

Jonas  gave  him  a  sinister  look,  which  long  lived  in  Tom's  memory, 
and  which  he  often  recalled  afterwards. 

"  I  am,  upon  my  life,"  said  Montague.  "  ^Vhy  did  you  make  it 
necessary  1  " 

With  the  same  dark  glance  as  before,  Jonas  replied,  after  a  moment's 
silence, 

"  The  necessity  is  none  of  my  making.  You  have  brought  it  about 
yourself." 

He  said  nothing  more.  He  said  even  this  as  if  he  were  bound,  and  in 
the  other's  power,  but  had  a  sullen  and  suppressed  devil  within  him, 
which  he  could  not  quite  resist.  His  very  gait,  as  they  walked  away 
together,  was  like  that  of  a  fettered  man ;  but,  striving  to  work  out  at 


MAUTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  "  473 

his  clenclied  liands,  knitted  brows,  and  fast-set  lips,  was  the  same 
imprisoned  devil  still. 

They  got  into  a  handsome  cabriolet,  which  was  waiting  for  them, 
and  drove  away. 

The  whole  of  this  extraordinary  scene  had  passed  so  rapidly,  and  the 
tumult  which  prevailed  around  was  so  unconscious  of  any  impression 
from  it,  that  although  Tom  had  been  one  of  the  chief  actors,  it  was  like 
a  dream.  No  one  had  noticed  him  after  they  had  left  the  packet.  He 
had  stood  behind  Jonas,  and  so  near  him,  that  he  could  not  help  hearing 
all  that  passed.  He  had  stood  there,  with  his  sister  on  his  arm,  expect- 
ing and  hoping  to  have  an  opportunity  of  explaining  his  strange  share 
in  this  yet  stranger  business.  But  Jonas  had  not  raised  his  eyes  from 
the  ground  ;  no  one  else  had  even  looked  towards  him  ;  and  before  he 
could  resolve  on  any  course  of  action,  they  were  all  gone. 

He  gazed  round  for  his  landlord.  But  he  had  done  that  more  than 
once  already ;  and  no  such  man  was  to  be  seen.  He  was  still  pursuing 
this  search  with  his  eyes,  when  he  saw  a  hand  beckoning  to  him  from  a 
hackney-coach  ;  and  hurrying  towards  it,  found  it  was  i\Ierry's.  She 
addressed  him  hurriedly,  but  bent  out  of  the  window,  that  she  might  not 
be  overheard  by  her  companion,  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  What  is  it  !  "  she  said,  "  Good  Heaven,  what  is  it  1  "Why  did  he 
tell  me  last  night  to  prepare  for  a  long  journey,  and  why  have  you 
brought  us  back  like  criminals  1  Dear  Mr.  Pinch  !  "  she  clasped  her 
hands,  distractedly,  "  be  merciful  to  us.  Whatever  this  dreadful  secret 
is,  be  merciful,  and  God  will  bless  you  ! " 

"  If  any  power  of  mercy  lay  with  me,"  cried  Tom,  "  trust  me,  you 
should  n't  ask  in  vain.     But  I  am  far  more  ignorant  and  weak  than  you." 

She  withdrew  into  the  coach  again,  and  he  saw  the  hand  waving 
towards  him  for  a  moment ;  but  whether  in  reproachfulness  or  in- 
credulity, or  misery,  or  grief,  or  sad  adieu,  or  what  else,  he  could 
not,  being  so  hurried,  understand.  She  was  gone  now  j  and  Ruth  and 
he  were  left  to  walk  away,  and  wonder. 

Had  Mr.  Nadgett  appointed  the  man  who  never  came,  to  meet  him 
upon  London  Bridge,  that  morning  1  He  was  certainly  looking  over  the 
parapet,  and  down  upon  the  steamboat-wharf  at  that  moment.  It  could 
not  have  been  for  pleasure  ;  he  never  took  pleasure.  No.  He  must 
have  had  some  business  there. 


CHAPTER  XLL 

MR.  JONAS  AND   HIS    FRIEND,    ARRIVING    AT    A    PLEASANT    UNDERSTANDING;, 
SET    FORTH    UPON    AN    ENTERPRISE. 

The  office  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  Disinterested  Loan  and  Life  Insur- 
ance Company  being  near  at  hand  ;  and  Mr.  Montague  driving  Jonas 
straight  there  ;  they  had  very  little  way  to  go.  But  the  journey 
might  have  been  one  of  several  hours'  duration,  without  provoking  a 
remark  from  either  :  for  it  was  clear  that  Jonas  did  not  mean  to  break 
the  silence  which  prevailed  betvv'een  them,  and  that  it  was  not,  as  yet, 
his  dear  friend's  cue  to  tempt  him  into  conversation. 


474  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

He  had  thrown  aside  Jbis  cloak,  as  having  now  no  motive  for  con- 
cealment, and  with  that  garment  huddled  on  his  knees,  sat  as  far 
removed  from  his  companion  as  the  limited  space  in  such  a  carriage 
would  allow.  There  was  a  striking  difference  in  his  manner,  compared 
with  what  it  had  been,  within  a  few  minutes,  when  Tom  encountered 
him  so  unexpectedly  on  board  the  packet,  or  when  the  ugly  change  had 
fallen  on  him  in  Mr.  Montague's  dressing-room.  He  had  the  aspect  of 
a  man  found  out,  and  held  at  bay ;  of  being  baffled,  hunted,  and  beset  ; 
but  there  was  now  a  dawning  and  increasing  purpose  in  his  face,  which 
changed  it  very  much.  It  was  gloomy,  distrustful,  lowering  ;  pale  with 
-anger,  and  defeat ;  it  still  was  humbled,  abject,  cowardly,  and  mean  ; 
but  let  the  conflict  go  on  as  it  would,  there  was  one  strong  purpose 
wrestling  with  every  emotion  of  his  mind,  and  casting  the  whole  series 
down  as  they  arose. 

'  Not  prepossessing  in  appearance,  at  the  best  of  times,  it  may  be 
readily  supposed  that  he  was  not  so  now.  He  had  left  deep  marks  of 
his  front  teeth  in  his  nether  lip  ;  and  those  tokens  of  the  agitation  he 
had  lately  undergone,  improved  his  looks  as  little  as  the  heavy  corru- 
gations in  his  forehead.  But  he  was  self-possessed  now  ;  unnaturally 
self-possessed,  indeed,  as  men  quite  otherwise  than  brave  are  known  to 
be  in  desperate  extremities  ;  and  when  the  carriage  stopped,  he  waited 
for  no  invitation,  but  leaped  hardily  out,  and  went  up  stairs. 

The  chairman  followed  him ;  and  closing  the  board-room  door  as 
soon  as  they  had  entered,  threw  himself  upon  a  sofa.  Jonas  stood  before 
the  window,  looking  down  into  the  street  j  and  leaned  against  the  sash  ; 
resting  his  head  upon  his  arms. 

"  This  is  not  handsome,  Chuzzlewit  1 "  said  Montague,  at  length. 
*'  Not  handsome,  upon  my  .  ■    1  ! " 

"  What  would  you  ^  .lo  ?"  he  answered,  looking  round  abruptly ; 

"  what  do  you  expe 

"  Confidence,  my  gv^od  fellow.  Some  confidence  1 "  said  Montague, 
in  an  injured  tone. 

"Ecod!  You  show  great  confidence  in  me,"  retorted  Jonas.  "Don't  you?" 

"  Do  I  not  1 "  said  his  companion,  raising  his  head,  and  looking  at 
him,  but  he  had  turned  again.  "  Do  I  not  ?  Have  I  not  confided  to 
you  the  easy  schemes  I  have  formed  for  our  advantage  ;  our  advantage, 
mind  ;  not  mine  alone  ;  and  what  is  my  return  1    Attempted  flight  1 " 

"  How  do  you  know  that  1     Who  said  I  meant  to  fly  ?  " 

"  Who  said  !  Come,  come.  A  foreign  boat,  my  friend,  an  early  hour, 
a  figure  wrapped  up  for  disguise  !  Who  said  !  If  you  didn't  mean  to 
jilt  me,  why  were  you  there  ?  If  you  didn't  mean  to  jilt  me,  why  did 
you  come  back  *?  " 

"  I  came  back,"  said  Jonas,  "  to  avoid  disturbance." 

"  You  were  wise,"  rejoined  his  friend. 

Jonas  stood  quite  silent :  still  looking  down  into  the  street,  and 
resting  his  head  upon  his  arms. 

"  Now,  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Montague,  "  notwithstanding  what  has 
passed,  I  will  be  plain  with  you.  Are  you  attending  to  me,  there  1  I 
only  see  your  back." 

"  /  hear  you.     Go  on  ! " 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  475 

"  I  say  tliafc  notwithstanding  what  has  passed,  I  will  be  plain  with 
you." 

"  You  said  that  before.  And  I  have  told  you  once,  I  heard  you  say 
it.     Go  on." 

"  You  are  a  little  chafed,  but  I  can  make  allowances  for  that ;  and 
am,  fortunately,  myself  in  the  very  best  of  tempers.  Now,  let  us  see 
how  circumstances  stand.  A  day  or  two  ago,  I  mentioned  to  you,  my 
dear  fellow,  that  I  thought  I  had  discovered " 

"  Will  you  hold  your  tongue  ?  "  said  Jonas,  looking  fiercely  round, 
and  glancing  at  the  door. 

"  Well,  well  !  "  said  Montague.  "  Judicious  !  Quite  correct  !  My 
discoveries  being  published,  would  be  like  many  other  men's  dis- 
coveries in  this  honest  world ;  of  no  further  use  to  me.  You 
see,  Chuzzlewit,  how  ingenuous  and  frank  I  am  in  showing  you 
the  weakness  of  my  own  position  !  To  return.  I  make,  or  think  I 
make,  a  certain  discovery,  which  I  take  an  early  opportunity  of  men- 
tioning in  your  ear,  in  that  spirit  of  confidence  which  I  really  hoped 
did  prevail  between  us,  and  was  reciprocated  by  you.  Perhaps  there  is 
something  in  it ;  perhaps  there  is  nothing.  I  have  my  knowledge  and 
opinion  on  the  subject.  You  have  yours.  We  will  not  discuss  the 
question.  But,  my  good  fellow,  you  have  been  weak  ;  what  I  wish  to 
point  out  to  you  is,  that  you  have  been  weak.  I  may  desire  to  turn 
this  little  incident  to  my  account  (indeed,  I  do.  I  '11  not  deny  it) 
but  my  account  does  not  lie  in  probing  it,  or  using  it  against  you." 

"  What  do  you  call  using  it  against  me '?  "  asked  Jonas,  who  had  not 
jet  changed  his  attitude. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Montague,  with  a  laugh.     "  We  '11  not  enter  into  that." 

"  Using  it,  to  make  a  beggar  of  me.     1     '  '^t  the  use  you  mean  ?  " 

"No." 

"  Ecod,"  muttered  Jonas,  bitterly.    "  Thu  use  in  which  your 

account  does  lie.     You  speak  the  truth  there.' 

"  I  wish  you  to  venture  (it 's  a  very  safe  venture)  a  little  more  with 
us,  certainly,  and  to  keep  quiet,"  said  Montague.  You  promised  me  you 
would  ;  and  you  must.  I  say  it  plainly,  Chuzzlewit,  you  must.  Reason 
the  matter.  If  you  don't,  my  secret  is  worthless  to  me ;  and  being  so, 
it  may  as  well  become  the  public  property  as  mine  :  better,  for  I  shall 
gain  some  credit,  bringing  it  to  light.  I  want  you,  besides,  to  act  as  a 
•decoy  in  a  case  I  have  already  told  you  of.  You  don't  mind  that,  I 
know.  You  care  nothing  for  the  man  (you  care  nothing  for  any  man  ; 
you  are  too  sharp  ;  so  am  I,  I  hope)  ;  and  could  bear  any  loss  of  his  with 
pious  fortitude.  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  You  have  tried  to  escape  from  the  first 
consequence.  You  cannot  escape  it,  I  assure  you.  I  have  shown  you 
that  to-day.  Now,  I  am  not  a  moral  man,  you  know.  I  am  not  the  least 
in  the  world  affected  by  anything  you  may  have  done  ;  by  any  little  indis- 
cretion you  may  have  committed  ;  but  I  wish  to  profit  by  it,  if  I  can  ; 
and  to  a  man  of  your  intelligence  I  make  that  free  confession.  I  am  not 
at  all  singular  in  that  infirmity.  Everybody  profits  by  the  indiscretion 
of  his  neighbour ;  and  the  people  in  the  best  repute,  the  most.  Why 
do  you  give  me  this  trouble ']  It  must  come  to  a  friendly  agreement,, 
or  an  unfriendly  crash.    It  must.    If  the  former,  you  are  very  little 


476  LIFE    AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

hurt.  If  the  latter — well !  you  know  Lest  what  is  likely  to  happen 
then." 

Jonas  left  the  window,  and  walked  up  close  to  him.  He  did  not  look 
him  in  the  face ;  it  was  not  his  habit  to  do  that ;  but  he  kept  his  eyes 
towards  him — on  his  breast,  or  thereabouts — and  was  at  great  pains  to 
speak  slowly  and  distinctly,  in  reply.  Just  as  a  man  in  a  state  of 
conscious  drunkenness  might  be. 

"  Lying  is  of  no  use,  now,"  he  said.  "  I  did  think  of  getting  away 
this  morning,  and  making  better  terms  with  you  from  a  distance." 

"  To  be  sure  !  To  be  sure  !  "  replied  Montague.  "  Nothing  more 
natural.  I  foresaw  that,  and  provided  against  it.  But  I  am  afraid  I 
am  interrupting  you." 

"  How  the  devil,"  pursued  Jonas,  with  a  still  greater  effort,  "  you 
made  choice  of  your  messenger,  and  where  you  found  him,  I  '11  not  ask 
you.  I  owed  him  one  good  turn  before  to-day.  If  you  are  so  careless 
of  men  in  general,  as  you  said  you  were  just  now,  you  are  quite 
indifferent  to  what  becomes  of  such  a  crop-tailed  cur  as  that,  and  will 
leave  me  to  settle  my  account  with  him  in  my  own  manner." 

If  he  had  raised  his  eyes  to  his  companion's  face,  he  would  have  seen 
that  Montague  was  evidently  unable  to  comprehend  his  meaning.  But 
continuing  to  stand  before  him,  with  his  furtive  gaze  directed  as  before, 
and  pausing  here,  only  to  moisten  his  dry  lips  with  his  tongue,  the^fact 
was  lost  upon  him.  It  might  have  struck  a  close  observer  that  this 
fixed  and  steady  glance  of  Jonas's  was  a  part  of  the  alteration  which  had 
taken  place  in  his  demeanour.  He  kept  it  rivetted  on  one  spot,  with 
which  his  thoughts  had  manifestly  nothing  to  do ;  like  as  a  juggler 
walking  on  a  cord  or  wire  to  any  dangerous  end,  holds  some  object  in 
his  sight  to  steady  him,  and  never  wanders  from  it,  lest  he  trip. 

Montague  was  quick  in  his  rejoinder,  though  he  made  it  at  a  venture. 
There  was  no  difference  of  opinion  between  him  and  his  friend  on  that 
point.     Not  the  least. 

*'  Your  great  discovery,"  Jonas  proceeded,  with  a  savage  sneer  that 
got  the  better  of  him  for  the  moment,  "  may  be  true,  and  may  be  false. 
Whichever  it  is,  I  dare  say  I  'm  no  worse  than  other  men." 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Tigg.     "  Not  a  bit.    We  're  all  alike — or  nearly  so." 

"I  want  to  know  this,"  Jonas  went  on  to  say;  "is  it  your  own? 
You  '11  not  wonder  at  my  asking  the  question." 

"  My  own  !  "  repeated  Montague. 

"  Aye  !"  returned  the  other,  gruffly.  "Is  it  known  to  anybody  else? 
Come  !     Don't  waver  about  that." 

"  No  !  "  said  Montague,  without  the  smallest  hesitation.  "  What 
would  it  be  worth,  do  you  think,  unless  I  had  the  keeping  of  it  1 " 

Now,  for  the  first  time,  Jonas  looked  at  him.  After  a  pause,  he  put 
out  his  hand,  and  said,  with  a  laugh  : 

"  Come  !  make  things  easy  to  me,  and  I'm  yours.  I  don't  know  that 
I  may  not  be  better  off  here,  after  all,  than  if  I  had  gone  away  this 
morning.     But  here  I  am,  and  here  I'll  stay  now.     Take  your  oath  !  " 

He  cleared  his  throat,  for  he  was  speaking  hoarsely,  and  said  in  a, 
lighter  tone  : 

"Shall  I  go  to  Pecksniff?    When?    Say  when  !  " 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  477 

"Immediately  !  "  cried  Montague.    " He  cannot  be  enticed  too  soon." 

"  Ecod  !  "  cried  Jonas,  with  a  wild  laugh.  "  There  's  some  fun  in 
catching  that  old  hypocrite.    I  hate  him.    Shall  I  go  to-night  1 " 

"  Aye  !  This,"  said  Montague,  ecstatically,  '-  is  like  business  !  We 
understand  each  other  now  !     To-night,  my  good  fellow,  by  all  means." 

"  Come  with  me  !  "  cried  Jonas.  "  We  must  make  a  dash  :  go  down 
in  state,  and  carry  documents,  for  he  's  a  deep  one  to  deal  with,  and 
must  be  drawn  on  with  an  artful  hand,  or  he  '11  not  follow.  I  know  him. 
As  I  can't  take  your  lodgings  or  your  dinners  down,  I  must  take  you. 
Will  you  come  to-night  1 " 

His  friend  appeared  to  hesitate  ;  and  neither  to  have  anticipated  this 
proposal,  nor  to  relish  it  very  much. 

"  We  can  concert  our  plans  upon  the  road,"  said  Jonas.  "  We  must 
not  go  direct  to  him,  but  cross  over  from  some  other  place,  and  turn  out 
of  our  way  to  see  him,  I  may  not  want  to  introduce  you,  but  I  must 
have  you  on  the  spot.     I  know  the  man,  I  tell  you." 

"  But,  what  if  the  man  knows  me  1 "  said  Montague,  shrugging  his 
shoulders. 

"  He  know  ! "  cried  Jonas,  "  Don't  you  run  that  risk  with  fifty  men 
a  day  !  Would  your  father  know  you  ?  Did  I  know  you  ?  Ecod,  you 
were  another  figure  when  I  saw  you  first.  Ha,  ha  ha  !  I  see  the  rents  and 
patches  now  !  No  false  hair  then,  no  black  dye  !  You  were  another  sort 
of  joker  in  those  days,  you  were!  You  even  spoke  different,  then.  You've 
acted  the  gentleman  so  seriously  since,  that  you've  taken  in  yourself. 
If  he  should  know  you,  what  does  it  matter  ?  Such  a  change  is  a  proof 
of  your  success.!  You  know  that,  or  you  would  not  have  made  yourself 
known  to  me.   Will  you  come  1  " 

"  My  good  fellow,"  said  Montague,  still  hesitating,  "  I  can  trust 
you  alone." 

"  Trust  me !  Ecod,  you  may  trust  me  now  far  enough.  I'll  try  to  go 
away  no  more — no  more  !  "  He  stopped,  and  added  in  a  more  sober  tone, 
"  I  can't  get  on  without  you.    Will  you  come  ?  " 

"I will,"  said  Montague,  "if  that's  your  opinion."  And  they  shook 
hands  upon  it. 

The  boisterous  manner  which  Jonas  had  exhibited  during  the  latter 
part  of  this  conversation,  and  which  had  gone  on  rapidly  increasing  with 
almost  every  word  he  had  spoken  ;  from  the  time  when  he  looked  his 
honourable  friend  in  the  face  until  now ;  did  not  now  subside,  but,  remain- 
ing at  its  height,  abided  by  him.  Most  unusual  with  him  at  any  period  ; 
most  inconsistent  with  his  temper  and  constitution;  especially  unnatural 
it  would  appear  in  one  so  darkly  circumstanced  ;  it  abided  by  him.  It 
was  not  like  the  effect  of  wine,  or  any  ardent  drink,  for  he  was  perfectly 
coherent.  It  even  made  him  proof  against  the  usual  influence  of 
such  means  of  excitement ;  for,  although  he  drank  deeply  several  times 
that  day,  with  no  reserve  or  caution,  he  remained  exactly  the  same 
man,  and  his  spirits  neither  rose  nor  fell  in  the  least  observable  degree. 

Deciding,  after  some  discussion,  to  travel  at  night,  in  order  that  the 
day's  business  might  not  be  broken  in  upon,  they  took  counsel  together 
in  reference  to  the  means.  Mr.  Montague  being  of  opinion  that  four 
horses  were  advisable,  at  all  events  for  the  first  stage,  as  throwing  a 


478  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

great  deal  of  dust  into  people's  eyes,  in  more  senses  than  one,  a 
travelling  chariot  and  four  lay  under  orders  for  nine  o'clock.  Jonas  did 
not  go  home :  observing,  that  his  being  obliged  to  leave  town  on  business 
in  so  great  a  hurry,  would  be  a  good  excuse  for  having  turned  back  so 
unexpectedly  in  the  morning.  So  he  wrote  a  note  for  his  portmanteau, 
and  sent  it  by  a  messenger,  who  duly  brought  his  luggage  back,  with  a 
short  note  from  that  other  piece  of  luggage,  his  wife,  expressive  of  her 
wish  to  be  allowed  to  come  and  see  him  for  a  moment.  To  this  request 
he  sent  for  answer,  "  she  had  better  ;  "  and  one  such  threatening  affirm- 
ative being  sufficient,  in  defiance  of  the  English  grammar,  to  express  a. 
negative,  she  kept  away. 

Mr.  Montague,  being  much  engaged  in  the  course  of  the  day,  Jonas, 
bestowed  his  spirits  chiefly  on  the  doctor,  with  whom  he  lunched  in  the 
medical  officer's  own  room.  On  his  way  thither,  encountering  Mr, 
Nadgett  in  the  outer  office,  he  bantered  that  stealthy  gentleman  on 
always  appearing  anxious  to  avoid  him,  and  inquired  if  he  were  afraid 
of  him.  Mr.  Nadgett  shyly  answered,  "  No,  but  he  believed  it  must  be^ 
his  way,  as  he  had  been  charged  with  much  the  same  kind  of  thing  before.'* 

Mr.  Montague  was  listening  to  :  or,  to  speak  with  greater  elegance,  he 
overheard  this  dialogue.  As  soon  as  Jonas  was  gone,  he  beckoned 
Nadgett  to  him  with  the  feather  of  his  pen,  and  whispered  in  his  ear, 

"  Who  gave  him  my  letter  this  morning  ? " 

"  My  lodger,  sir,"  said  Nadgett,  behind  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"  How  came  that  about  ? " 

"  I  found  him  on  the  wharf,  sir.  Being  so  much  hurried,  and  yoix 
not  arrived,  it  was  necessary  to  do  something.  It  fortunately  occurred 
to  me,  that  if  I  gave  it  him  myself,  I  could  be  of  no  further  use.  I  should 
have  been  blown  upon  immediately." 

"  Mr.  Nadgett,  you  are  a  jewel,"  said  Montague,  patting  him  on  the 
back.     "  What 's  your  lodger's  name  1 " 

"  Pinch,  sir.     Mr.  Thomas  Pinch." 

Montague  reflected  for  a  little  while,  and  then  asked  : 

"  From  the  country,  do  you  know  1  " 

"  From  Wiltshire,  sir,  he  told  me." 

They  parted  without  another  word.  To  see  Mr.  Nadgett's  bow  when 
Montague  and  he  next  met,  and  to  see  Mr.  Montague  acknowledge  it, 
anybody  might  have  undertaken  to  swear  that  they  had  never  spoken 
to  each  other  confidentially,  in  all  their  lives. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Mr.  Jonas  and  the  doctor  made  themselves  very 
comfortable  up  stairs,  over  a  bottle  of  the  old  Madeira,  and  some  sand- 
wiches ;  for  the  doctor  having  been  already  invited  to  dine  below  at 
six  o'clock,  preferred  a  light  repast  for  lunch.  It  was  advisable,  he  said, 
in  two  points  of  view  :  First,  as  being  healthy  in  itself.  Secondly,  as 
being  the  better  preparation  for  dinner. 

"  And  you  are  bound  for  all  our  sakes  to  take  particular  care  of  your 
digestion,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  my  dear  sir,"  said  the  doctor,  smacking  his 
lips  after  a  glass  of  wine  ;  "  for  depend  upon  it,  it  is  worth  preserving. 
It  must  be  in  admirable  condition,  sir  ;  perfect  chronometer-work. 
Otherwise  your  spirits  could  not  be  so  remarkable.  Your  bosom's  lord 
sits  lightly  on  its  throne,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  what's-his-name  says  in  the 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  479 

plaj.  I  wisli  he  said  it  in  a  play  which  did  anything  like  common 
justice  to  our  profession,  by-the-bye.  There  is  an  apothecary  in  that 
drama,  sir,  which  is  a  low  thing ;  vulgar,  sir  ;  out  of  nature  altogether." 

Mr.  Jobling  pulled  out  his  shirt-frill  of  fine  linen,  as  though  he  would 
have  added,  "  This  is  what  I  call  nature  in  a  medical  man,  sir ;"  and 
looked  at  Jonas  for  an  observation. 

Jonas  not  being  in  a  condition  to  pursue  the  subject,  took  up  a  case 
of  lancets  that  was  lying  on  the  table,  and  opened  it. 

"  Ah  ! "  said  the  doctor,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  "  I  always  take 
'em  out  of  my  pocket  before  I  eat.  My  pockets  are  rather  tight. 
Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

Jonas  had  opened  one  of  the  shining  little  instruments  ;  and  was 
scrutinising  it  with  a  look  as  sharp  and  eager  as  its  own  bright  edge. 

"  Good  steel,  doctor.     Good  steel  !  Eh  ?" 

"  Ye-es,''  replied  the  doctor,  with  the  faltering  modesty  of  ownership. 
"  One  might  open  a  vein  pretty  dexterously  with  that,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 

"It  has  opened  a  good  many  in  its  time,  I  suppose?"  said  Jonas, 
looking  at  it  with  a  growing  interest. 

"  Not  a  few,  my  dear  sir,  not  a  few.  It  has  been  engaged  in  a — in  a 
pretty  good  practice,  I  believe  I  may  say,"  replied  the  doctor,  coughing  as 
if  the  matter-of-fact  were  so  very  dry  and  literal  that  he  couldn  't  help  it. 
"  In  a  pretty  good  practice,"  repeated  the  doctor,  putting  another  glass 
of  wine  to  his  lips. 

"  Now,  could  you  cut  a  man's  throat  with  such  a  thing  as  this  1 "" 
demanded  Jonas. 

"  Oh  certainly,  certainly,  if  you  took  him  in  the  right  place,"  returned 
the  doctor.     "  It  all  depends  upon  that." 

"  Where  you  have  your  hand  now,  hey  ?"  cried  Jonas,  bending  forward 
to  look  at  it. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  doctor  ;  "  that 's  the  jugular." 

Jonas,  in  his  vivacity,  made  a  sudden  sawing  in  the  air,  so  close  behind 
the  doctor's  jugular,  tliat  he  turned  quite  red.  Then  Jonas  (in  the  same 
strange  spirit  of  vivacity)  burst  into  a  loud  discordant  laugh. 

"No,  no,"  said  the  doctor,  shaking  his  head  :  "edge  tools,  edge  tools; 
never  play  with  'em.  A  very  remarkable  instance  of  the  skilful  use  of 
edge-tools,  by  the  way,  occurs  to  me  at  this  moment.  It  was  a  case  of 
murder.  I  am  afraid  it  was  a  case  of  murder,  committed  by  a  member 
of  our  profession  ;  it  was  so  artistically  done." 

"  Aye  \"  said  Jonas.     "  How  was  that  ? " 

"  Why,  sir,"  returned  Jobling,  "  the  thing  lies  in  a  nut-shell.  A 
certain  gentleman  was  found,  one  morning,  in  an  obscure  street,  stand- 
ing upright  in  an  angle  of  a  doorway — I  should  rather  say,  leaning,  in 
an  upright  position,  in  the  angle  of  a  doorway,  and  supported  conse- 
quently b?/  the  doorway.  Upon  his  waistcoat  there  was  one  solitary 
drop  of  blood.     He  was  dead,  and  cold  ;  and  had  been  murdered,  sir." 

"  Only  one  drop  of  blood  !  "  said  Jonas. 

"  Sir,  that  man,"  replied  the  doctor,  "  had  been  stabbed  to  the  heart. 
Had  been  stabbed  to  the  heart  with  such  dexterity,  sir,  that  he  had 
died  instantly,  and  had  bled  internally.  It  was  supposed  that  a  medi- 
cal friend  of  his  (to  whom  suspicion  attached)  had  engaged  him  in 


480  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

conversation  on  some  pretence  ;  had  taken  him,  very  likely,  by  the 
"button  in  a  conversational  manner  ;  had  examined  his  ground,  at  leisure, 
with  his  other  hand  ;  had  marked  the  exact  spot ;  drawn  out  the  instru- 
ment, whatever  it  was,  when  he  was  quite  prepared  ;  and " 

"  And  done  the  trick,"  suggested  Jonas. 

"  Exactly  so,"  replied  the  doctor.  "  It  was  quite  an  operation  in  its 
way,  and  very  neat.  The  medical  friend  never  turned  up  ;  and,  as  I 
tell  you,  he  had  the  credit  of  it.  Whether  he  did  it  or  not,  I  can't  say. 
But  having  had  the  honour  to  be  called  in  with  two  or  three  of  my 
professional  brethren  on  the  occasion,  and  having  assisted  to  make  a 
careful  examination  of  the  wound,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  that 
it  would  have  reflected  credit  on  any  medical  man  ;  and  that  in  an 
unprofessional  person,  it  could  not  but  be  considered,  either  as  an  extra- 
ordinary work  of  art,  or  the  result  of  a  still  more  extraordinary,  happy, 
and  favourable  conjunction  of  circumstances." 

His  hearer  was  so  much  interested  in  this  case,  that  the  doctor  went 
on  to  elucidate  it  with  the  assistance  of  his  own  finger  and  thumb  and 
waistcoat ;  and  at  Jonas's  request,  he  took  the  further  trouble  of  standing 
wp  in  one  corner  of  the  room,  and  alternately  representing  the  murdered 
man  and  the  murderer  ;  which  he  did  with  great  effect.  The  bottle  being 
emptied  and  the  story  done,  Jonas  was  in  precisely  the  same  boisterous 
and  unusual  state  as  when  they  had  sat  down.  If,  as  Jobling  theorised, 
his  good  digestion  were  the  cause,  he  must  have  been  a  very  ostrich. 

At  dinner,  it  was  just  the  same  ;  and  after  dinner  too  ;  though  wine 
was  drunk  in  abundance,  and  various  rich  meats  eaten.  At  nine  o'clock 
it  was  still  the  same.  There  being  a  lamp  in  the  carriage,  he  swore 
they  would  take  a  pack  of  cards,  and  a  bottle  of  wine  :  and  with  these 
things  under  his  cloak,  went  down  to  the  door. 

"  Out  of  the  way,  Tom  Thumb,  and  get  to  bed  !" 

This  was  the  salutation  he  bestowed  on.  Mr.  Bailey,  who  booted  and 
wrapped  up,  stood  at  the  carriage-door  to  help  him  in. 

"  To  bed,  sir  !     I  'm  a  going,  too,"  said  Bailey. 

He  alighted  quickly,  and  walked  back  into  the  hall,  where  Montague 
was  lighting  a  cigar :  conducting  Mr.  Bailey  with  him,  by  the  collar, 

"  You  are  not  a  going  to  take  this  monkey  of  a  boy,  are  you  1" 

"  Yes,"  said  Montague,  "  I  am." 

He  gave  the  boy  a  shake,  and  threw  him  roughly  aside.  There  was 
more  of  his  familiar  self  in  the  action,  than  in  anything  he  had  done 
that  day ;  but  he  broke  out  laughing  immediately  afterwards ;  and 
making  a  thrust  at  the  doctor  with  his  hand  in  imitation  of  his 
representation  of  the  medical  friend,' went  out  to  the  carriage  again, 
and  took  his  seat.  His  companion  followed  immediately.  Mr.  Bailey 
climbed  into  the  rumble. 

"  It  will  be  a  stormy  night  !"  exclaimed  the  doctor,  as  they  started. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  481 

CHAPTER  XLII. 

CONTINUATION    OF    THE    ENTERPRISE    OF    MR.    JONAS    AND    HIS    FRIEND. 

The  Doctor's  prognostication  in  reference  to  the  weather,  was  speedily 
verified.  Although  the  weather  was  not  a  patient  of  his,  and  no  third 
party  had  required  him  to  give  an  opinion  on  the  case,  the  quick  fulfil- 
ment of  his  prophecy  may  be  taken  as  an  instance  of  his  professional 
tact ;  for  unless  the  threatening  aspect  of  the  night  had  been  perfectly 
plain  and  unmistakeable,  Mr.  Jobling  would  never  have  compromised 
his  reputation  by  delivering  any  sentiments  on  the  subject.  He  used 
this  principle  in  Medicine  with  too  much  success,  to  be  unmindful  of  it 
in  his  commonest  transactions. 

It  was  one  of  those  hot,  silent,  nights,  when  people  sit  at  windows, 
listening  for  the  thunder  which  they  know  will  shortly  break ;  when 
they  recall  dismal  tales  of  hurricanes  and  earthquakes ;  and  of  lonely 
travellers  on  open  plains,  and  lonely  ships  at  sea  struck  by  lightning. 
Lightning  flashed  and  quivered  on  the  black  horizon  even  now  ;  and 
hollow  murmurings  were  in  the  wind,  as  though  it  had  been  blowing 
where  the  thunder  rolled,  and  still  was  charged  with  its  exhausted 
echoes.  But  the  storm,  though  gathering  swiftly,  had  not  yet  come  up  ; 
and  the  prevailing  stillness  was  the  more  solemn,  from  the  dull 
intelligence  that  seemed  to  hover  in  the  air,  of  noise  and  conflict 
afar  off". 

It  was  very  dark ;  but  in  the  murky  sky  there  were  masses  of  cloud 
which  shone  with  a  lurid  light,  like  monstrous  heaps  of  copper  that 
had  been  heated  in  a  furnace,  and  were  growing  cold.  These  had  been 
advancing  steadily  and  slowly,  but  they  were  now  motionless,  or  nearly 
so  ;  and  as  the  carriage  clattered  round  the  corners  of  the  streets,  it 
passed,  at  every  one,  a  knot  of  persons,  who  had  come  there — many 
from  their  houses  close  at  hand,  without  hats — to  look  up  at  that 
c|uarter  of  the  sky.  And  now  a  very  few  large  drops  of  rain  began  to 
fall :  and  thunder  rumbled  in  the  distance. 

Jonas  sat  in  a  corner  of  the  carriage,  with  his  bottle  resting  on  his 
knee,  and  gripped  as  tightly  in  his  hand,  as  if  he  would  have  ground  its 
neck  to  powder  if  he  could.  Instinctively  attracted  by  the  night,  he  had 
laid  aside  the  pack  of  cards  upon  the  cushion;  and  with  the  same 
involuntary  impulse,  so  intelligible  to  both  of  them  as  not  to  occasion 
a  remark  on  either  side,  his  companion  had  extinguished  the  lamp. 
The  front  glasses  were  down ;  and  they  sat  looking  silently  out  upon  the 
gloomy  scene  before  them. 

They  were  clear  of  London  :  or  as  clear  of  it  as  travellers  can  be, 
whose  way  lies  on  the  Western  Road,  within  a  stage  of  that  enormous 
city.  Occasionally,  they  encountered  a  foot-passenger,  hurrying  to  the 
nearest  place  of  shelter;  or  some  unwieldy  cart  proceeding  onward  at  a 
heavy  trot,  with  the  same  end  in  view.  Little  clusters  of  such  vehicles 
were  gathered  round  the  stable-yard  or  baiting-place  of  every  way-side 

1 1 


482  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

tavern;  while  their  drivers  watched  the  weather  from  the  doors  and  open 
windows,  or  made  merry  within.  Everywhere  the  people  were  disposed 
to  bear  each  other  company,  rather  than  sit  alone  ;  so  that  groups  of 
watchful  faces  seemed  to  be  looking  out  upon  the  night  and  them,  from 
almost  every  house  they  passed. 

It  may  appear  strange  that  this  should  have  disturbed  Jonas,  or 
rendered  him  uneasy  :  but  it  did.  After  muttering  to  himself,  and 
often  changing  his  position,  he  drew  up  the  blind  on  his  side  of  the 
carriage,  and  turned  his  shoulder  sulkily  towards  it.  But  he  neither 
looked  at  his  companion,  nor  broke  the  silence  which  prevailed  between 
them,  and  which  had  fallen  so  suddenly  upon  himself,  by  addressing  a 
word  to  him. 

The  thunder  rolled,  the  lightning  flashed;  the  rain  poured  down  like 
Heaven's  wrath.  Surrounded  at  one  moment  by  intolerable  light,  and 
at  the  next  by  pitchy  darkness,  they  still  pressed  forward  on  their 
journey.  Even  when  they  arrived  at  the  end  of  the  stage,  and  might 
have  tarried,  they  did  not;  but  ordered  horses  out  immediately.  Nor 
had  this  any  reference  to  some  five  minutes'  lull,  which  at  that  time 
seemed  to  promise  a  cessation  of  the  storm.  They  held  their  course 
as  if  they  were  impelled  and  driven  by  its  fury.  Although  they  had  not 
exchanged  a  dozen  words,  and  might  have  tarried  very  well,  they 
seemed  to  feel,  by  joint  consent,  that  onward  they  must  go. 

Louder  and  louder  the  deep  thunder  rolled,  as  through  the  myriad 
halls  of  some  vast  temple  in  the  sky  ;  fiercer  and  brighter  became  the 
lightning  ;  more  and  more  heavily  the  rain  poured  down.  The  horses 
(they  were  travelling  now  with  a  single  pair),  plunged  and  started  from 
the  rills  of  quivering  fire  that  seemed  to  wind  along  the  ground  before 
them  :  but  there  these  two  men  sat,  and  forward  they  went  as  if  they 
were  led  on  by  an  invisible  attraction. 

The  eye,  partaking  of  the  quickness  of  the  flashing  light,  saw  in  its 
every  gleam  a  multitude  of  objects  which  it  could  not  see  at  steady  noon 
in  fifty  times  that  period.  Bells  in  steeples,  with  the  rope  and  wheel 
that  moved  them ;  ragged  nests  of  birds  in  cornices  and  nooks  ;  faces 
full  of  consternation  in  the  tilted  waggons  that  came  tearing  past,  their 
frightened  teams  ringing  out  a  warning  which  the  thunder  drowned  ; 
harrows  and  ploughs  left  out  in  fields;  miles  upon  miles  of  hedge- 
divided  country,  with  the  distant  fringe  of  trees  as  obvious  as  the  scare- 
crow in  the  beanfield  close  at  hand  :  in  a  trembling,  vivid,  flickering 
instant,  everything  was  clear  and  plain  :  then  came  a  flush  of  red  into 
the  yellow  light ;  a  change  to  blue ;  a  brightness  so  intense  that  there 
was  nothing  else  but  light :  and  then  the  deepest  and  profoundest 
darkness. 

The  lightning,  being  very  crooked  and  very  dazzling,  may  have  pre- 
sented or  assisted  a  curious  optical  illusion,  which  suddenly  rose  before 
the  startled  eyes  of  Montague  in  the  carriage,  and  as  rapidly  disappeared. 
He  thought  he  saw  Jonas  with  his  hand  lifted,  and  the  bottle  clenched 
in  it  like  a  hammer,  making  as  if  he  would  aim  a  blow  at  his  head. 
At  the  same  time  he  observed  (or  so  believed),  an  expression  in  his  face  ; 
a  combination  of  the  unnatural  excitement  he  had  shown  all  day,  with 


MARTIN    CHIJZZLEWIT.  483 

a  wild  hatred  and  fear  which  might  have  rendered  a  Wolf  a  less  terrible 
companion. 

He  uttered  an  involuntary  exclamation,  and  called  to  the  driver,  who 
brought  his  horses  to  a  stop  with  all  speed. 

It  could  hardly  have  been  as  he  supposed,  for  although  he  had  not 
taken  his  eyes  off  his  companion,  and  had  not  seen  him  move,  he  sat 
reclining  in  his  corner  as  before. 

"  What 's  the  matter  ? "  said  Jonas.  "  Is  that  your  general  way  of 
waking  out  of  your  sleep  ?  " 

''  I  could  swear,"  returned  the  other,  "  that  I  have  not  closed  my  eyes !" 

"  When  you  have  sworn  it,"  said  Jonas,  composedly,  "  we  had  better 
go  on  again,  if  you  have  only  stopped  for  that." 

He  uncorked  the  bottle  with  the  help  of  his  teeth  ;  and  putting  it  to 
his  lips,  took  a  long  draught. 

"  I  wish  we  had  never  started  on  this  journey.  This  is  not,"  said 
Montague,  recoiling  instinctively,  and  speaking  in  a  voice  that  betrayed 
his  agitation  :  "  this  is  not  a  night  to  travel  in." 

"  Ecod  !  you  're  right  there,"  returned  Jonas  :  "  and  we  shouldn't  be 
out  in  it  but  for  you.  If  you  hadn't  kept  me  waiting  all  day,  we  might 
have  been  at  Salisbury  by  this  time ;  snug  abed  and  fast  asleep.  What 
are  we  stopping  now  for  ? " 

His  companion  put  his  head  out  of  window  for  a  moment,  and  drawing 
it  in  again,  observed  (as  if  that  were  his  cause  of  anxiety),  that  the  boy 
was  drenched  to  the  skin. 

"  Serve  him  right,"  said  Jonas.  "  I'm  glad  of  it.  What  the  devil  are 
we  stopping  now,  for  ?     Are  you  going  to  spread  him  out  to  dry  ?" 

"  I  have  half  a  mind  to  take  him  inside,"  observed  the  other  with 
some  hesitation. 

"  Oh  !  thankee  !  "  said  Jonas.  "  We  don't  want  any  damp  boys  here : 
especially  a  young  imp  like  him.  Let  him  be  where  he  is.  He  aint 
afraid  of  a  little  thunder  and  lightning,  I  dare  say  ;  whoever  else  is. 
Go  on,  Driver  !  We  had  better  have  him  inside  perhaps,"  he  muttered 
with  a  laugh ;  "  and  the  horses  !  " 

"  Don't  go  too  fast,"  cried  Montague  to  the  postillion ;  "  and  take 
care  how  you  go.     You  were  nearly  in  the  ditch  when  I  called  to  you." 

This  was  not  true  ;  and  Jonas  bluntly  said  so,  as  they  moved  forward 
again.  Montague  took  little  or  no  heed  of  what  he  said,  but  repeated 
that  it  was  not  a  night  for  travelling,  and  showed  himself,  both  then 
and  afterwards,  unusually  anxious. 

From  this  time,  Jonas  recovered  his  former  spirits  ;  if  such  a  term 
may  be  employed  to  express  the  state  in  which  he  had  left  the  city.  He 
had  his  bottle  often  at  his  mouth ;  roared  out  snatches  of  songs,  without 
the  least  regard  to  time  or  tune  or  voice,  or  anything  but  loud  discor- 
dance ;  and  urged  his  silent  friend  to  be  merry  with  him. 

"  You  're  the  best  company  in  the  world,  my  good  fellow,"  said 
Montague  with  an  effort,  "  and  in  general  irresistible  j  but  to-night — 
do  you  hear  it  ? " 

"  Ecod  I  hear  and  see  it  too,"  cried  Jonas,  shading  his  eyes,  for  the 
moment,  from  the  lightning  which  was  flashing,  not  in  any  one  direction, 

I  I  2 


484  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

but  all  round  them.  "  What  of  that  ?  It  don't  change  you,  nor  me, 
nor  our  affairs.     Chorus,  chorus  ! 

It  may  lighten  and  storm, 

Till  it  hunt  the  red  worm 
From  the  grass  where  the  gibbet  is  driven  ; 

But  it  can't  hurt  the  dead, 

And  it  wo'nt  save  the  head 
That  is  doom'd  to  be  i-ifled  and  riven. 

That  must  be  a  precious  old  song,"  he  added  with  an  oath,  as  he  stopped 
short  in  a  kind  of  wonder  at  himself.  "  I  haven't  heard  it  since  I  w^as  a 
boj,  and  how  it  comes  into  my  head  now,  unless  the  lightning  put  it 
there,  I  don't  know.  'Can't  hurt  the  dead'!  No  no.  'And  won't 
save  the  head ' !     No  no.     No  !     Ha  ha  ha  ! " 

His  mirth  was  of  such  a  savage  and  extraordinary  character,  and  was, 
in  an  inexplicable  way,  at  once  so  suited  to  the  night,  and  yet  such 
a  coarse  intrusion  on  its  terrors,  that  his  fellow-traveller,  always  a 
coward,  shrunk  from  him  in  positive  fear.  Instead  of  Jonas  being 
his  tool  and  instrument,  their  places  seemed  to  be  reversed.  Eut  there 
was  reason  for  this  too,  Montague  thought ;  since  the  sense  of  his 
debasement  might  naturally  inspire  such  a  man  with  the  wish  to  assert 
a  noisy  independence,  and  in  that  license  to  forget  his  real  condition. 
Being  quick  enough  in  reference  to  such  subjects  of  contemplation,  he 
was  not  long  in  taking  this  argument  into  account,  and  giving  it  its  full 
weight.  But  still  he  felt  a  vague  sense  of  alarm,  and  was  depressed 
and  uneasy. 

He  was  certain  he  had  not  been  asleep ;  but  his  eyes  might  have 
deceived  him,  for  looking  at  Jonas  now,  in  any  interval  of  darkness,  he 
could  represent  his  figure  to  himself  in  any  attitude  his  state  of  mind 
suggested.  On  the  other  hand,  he  knew  full  well  that  Jonas  had  no 
reason  to  love  him  ;  and  even  taking  the  piece  of  pantomime  which  had 
so  impressed  his  mind  to  be  a  real  gesture,  and  not  the  working  of  his 
fancy,  the  most  that  could  be  said  of  it  was,  that  it  was  quite  in  keeping 
with  the  rest  of  his  diabolical  fun,  and  had  the  same  impotent  expres- 
sion of  truth  in  it.  "  If  he  could  kill  me  with  a  wish,"  thought  the 
swindler,  "  I  should  not  live  long." 

He  resolved,  that  when  he  should  have  had  his  use  of  Jonas,  he  would 
restrain  him  with  an  iron  curb  :  in  the  mean  time,  that  he  could  not 
do  better  than  leave  him  to  take  his  own  way,  and  preserve  his  own 
peculiar  description  of  good-humour,  after  his  own  uncommon  manner. 
It  was  no  great  sacrifice  to  bear  with  him  ;  "  for  when  all  is  got  that 
can  be  got/'  thought  Montague,  "  I  shall  decamp  across  the  water,  and 
have  the  laugh  on  my  side — and  the  gains." 

Such  were  his  reflections  from  hour  to  hour ;  his  state  of  mind  being 
one  in  which  the  same  thoughts  constantly  present  themselves  over  and 
over  again  in  w^earisome  repetition  ;  while  Jonas,  who  appeared  to  have 
dismissed  reflection  altogether,  entertained  himself  as  before.  They 
agreed  that  they  would  go  to  Salisbury,  and  would  cross  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
in  the  morning ;  and  at  the  prospect  of  deluding  that  worthy  gentleman, 
the  spirits  of  his  amiable  son-in-law  became  more  boisterous  than  ever. 


p. 


-mi^  s 


Of  4^  e^v, 


^y/U''^/.^j  /ri.-i  ,/?ylt\uy/^<'<    <.'■/   //unu  . 


MARTIN    CimZZLEWIT.  485 

As  the  niglitwore  on,  the  thunder  died  away,  but  still  rolled  gloomily 
and  mournfully  in  the  distance.  The  lightning  too,  though  now  com- 
paratively harmless,  was  yet  bright  and  frequent.  The  rain  was  quite 
as  violent  as  it  had  ever  been. 

It  was  their  ill-fortune,  at  about  the  time  of  dawn  and  in  the  last 
stage  of  their  journey,  to  have  a  restive  pair  of  horses.  These  animals 
had  been  greatly  terrified  in  their  stable  by  the  tempest ;  and  coming 
out  into  the  dreary  interval  between  night  and  morning,  when  the  glare 
of  the  lightning  was  yet  unsubdued  by  day,  and  the  various  objects  in 
their  view  were  presented  in  indistinct  and  exaggerated  shapes  which 
they  would  not  have  worn  by  night,  they  gradually  became  less  and  less 
capable  of  controul ;  until,  taking  a  sudden  fright  at  something  by  the 
roadside,  they  dashed  off  wildly  down  a  steep  hill,  flung  the  driver  from 
his  saddle,  drew  the  carriage  to  the  brink  of  a  ditch,  stumbled  headlong 
down,  and  threw  it  crashing  over. 

The  travellers  had  opened  the  carriage  door,  and  had  either  jumped 
or  fallen  out.  Jonas  was  the  first  to  stagger  to  his  feet.  He  felt  sick 
and  weak,  and  very  giddy,  and,  reeling  to  a  five-barred  gate,  stood  hold- 
ing by  it :  looking  drowsily  about,  as  the  whole  landscape  swam  before  his 
eyes.  But  by  degrees  he  grew  more  conscious,  and  presently  observed 
that  Montague  was  lying  senseless  in  the  road,  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
horses. 

In  an  instant,  as  if  his  own  faint  body  were  suddenly  animated  by  a 
demon,  he  ran  to  the  horses'  heads  j  and  pulling  at  their  bridles  with 
all  his  force,  set  them  struggling  and  plunging  with  such  mad  violence 
as  brought  their  hoofs  at  every  effort  nearer  to  the  skull  of  the  prostrate 
man,  and  must  have  led  in  half  a  minute  to  his  brains  being  dashed 
out  on  the  highw^ay. 

As  he  did  this,  he  fought  and  contended  with  them  like  a  man 
possessed  :  making  them  wilder  by  his  cries. 

"  Whoop  !  "  cried  Jonas.  "  Whoop  !  again  !  another  !  A  little  more, 
a  little  more  !     Up,  ye  devils  !     Hillo  ! " 

As  he  heard  the  driver  who  had  risen  and  was  hurrying  up,  crying 
to  him  to  desist,  his  violence  increased. 
"  Hillo  !     Hillo  !  "  cried  Jonas. 

"  For  God's  sake  ! "  cried  the  driver. — "  The  gentleman — In  the  road 
—he '11  be  killed!" 

The  same  shouts  and  the  same  struggles  were  his  only  answer.  But 
the  man  darting  in  at  the  peril  of  his  own  life,  saved  Montague's,  by 
dragging  him  through  the  mire  and  water  out  of  the  reach  of  present 
harm.  That  done  he  ran  to  Jonas  ;  and  with  the  aid  of  his  knife  they  veiy 
shortly  disengaged  the  horses  from  the  broken  chariot,  and  got  them, 
cut  and  bleeding,  on  their  legs  again.  The  postillion  and  Jonas  had 
now  leisure  to  look  at  each  other,  which  they  had  not  had  yet. 

"  Presence  of  mind,  presence  of  mind  !  "  cried  Jonas,  throwing  up 
his  hands  wildly.     "  What  would  you  have  done  without  me  !  " 

"  The  other  gentleman  would  have  done  badly  without  me,'"  returned 
the  man,  shaking  his  head.  "  You  should  have  moved  him  first.  I 
gave  him  up  for  dead." 


db86  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Presence  of  mind,  you  croaker,  presence  of  mind  !"  cried  Jonas, 
witli  a  harsh  loud  laugh.     "  Was  he  struck,  do  you  think  1" 

They  both  turned  to  look  at  him.  Jonas  muttered  something  to 
himself,  when  he  saw  him  sitting  up  beneath  the  hedge,  looking  vacantly 
round. 

"  What 's  the  matter  1 "  asked  Montague.     "  Is  anybody  hurt  ?" 

"  Ecod  !"  said  Jonas,  "  it  don't  seem  so.  There  are  no  bones  broke, 
after  all." 

They  raised  him,  and  he  tried  to  walk.  He  was  a  good  deal  shaken, 
and  trembled  very  much.  But  with  the  exception  of  a  few  cuts  and 
bruises,  this  was  all  the  damage  he  had  sustained. 

"  Cuts  and  bruises,  eh  ?"  said  Jonas.  "  We  've  all  got  them.  Only 
cuts  and  bruises,  eh  ?" 

"  I  wouldn't  have  given  sixpence  for  the  gentleman's  head  in  half  a 
dozen  seconds  more,  for  all  he  's  only  cut  and  bruised,"  observed  the  post- 
boy. "  If  ever  you  're  in  an  accident  of  this  sort  again,  Sir  ;  which  I 
hope  you  won't  be ;  never  you  pull  at  the  bridle  of  a  horse  that 's  down, 
when  there 's  a  man's  head  in  the  way.  That  can't  be  done  twice 
without  there  being  a  dead  man  in  the  case ;  it  would  have  ended  in 
that,  this  time,  as  sure  as  ever  you  were  born,  if  I  hadn't  come  up  just 
when  I  did ." 

Jonas  replied  by  advising  him  with  a  curse  to  hold  his  tongue,  and  to 
go  somewhere,  whither  he  was  not  very  likely  to  go  of  his  own  accord. 
But  Montague,  who  had  listened  eagerly,  to  every  word,  himself  diverted 
the  subject,  by  exclaiming  :  "  Where 's  the  boy  !" 

"  Ecod,  I  forgot  that  monkey,"  said  Jonas.  "  What's  become  of  him  !" 
A  very  brief  search  settled  that  question.  The  unfortunate  Mr.  Bailey 
had  been  thrown  sheer  over  the  hedge  or  the  five  barred  gate  ;  and  was 
lying  in  the  neighbouring  field,  to  all  appearance  dead. 

"  When  I  said  to-night,  that  I  wished  I  had  never  started  on  this 
journey,"  cried  his  master,  "  I  knew  it  was  an  ill-fated  one.  Look  at 
this  boy !" 

"  Is  that  all  ?"  growled  Jonas.     "  If  you  call  thai  a  sign  of  it  — ^" 

"  W^hy,  what  should  I  call  a  sign  of  it  ?"  asked  Montague,  hurriedly. 
*'  What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"  I  mean,"  said  Jonas,  stooping  down  over  the  body,  "  that  I  never 
heard  you  were  his  father,  or  had  any  particular  reason  to  care  much 
about  him.    Halloa.     Hold  up  here  !" 

But  the  boy  was  past  holding  up,  or  being  held  up,  or  giving  any  other 
sign  of  life,  than  a  faint  and  fitful  beating  of  the  heart.  After  some  dis- 
cussion, the  driver  mounted  the  horse  which  had  been  least  injured,  and 
took  the  lad  in  his  arms,  as  well  as  he  could  ;  while  Montague  and  Jonas 
leading  the  other  horse,  and  carrying  a  trunk  between  them,  walked  by 
his  side  towards  Salisbury. 

"  You'd  get  there  in  a  few  minutes,  and  be  able  to  send  assistance  to 
meet  us,  if  you  went  forward,  post-boy,"  said  Jonas.     "  Trot  on  I" 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Montague,  hastily  ;  "  we'll  keep  together." 

"  Why,  what  a  chicken  you  are  !  You  are  not  afraid  of  being  robbed  ; 
are  you  1"  said  Jonas. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  487 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  anything,"  replied  the  other,  whose  looks  and 
manner  were  in  flat  contradiction  to  his  words.  "But  we'll  keep 
together." 

"  You  were  mighty  anxious  about  the  boy,  a  minute  ago,"  said  Jonas. 
^'  I  suppose  you  know  that  he  may  die  in  the  mean  time  f 

"Aye,  aye.     I  know.     But  we '11  keep  together." 

As  it  was  clear  that  he  was  not  to  be  moved  from  this  determination, 
Jonas  made  no  other  rejoinder  than  such  as  his  face  expressed  ;  and  they 
proceeded  in  company.  They  had  three  or  four  good  miles  to  travel ; 
and  the  way  was  not  made  easier  by  the  state  of  the  road,  the  burden  by 
which  they  were  embarrassed,  or  their  own  stiff  and  sore  condition. 
After  a  sufficiently  long  and  painful  walk,  they  arrived  at  the  Inn ;  and 
having  knocked  the  people  up  (it  being  yet  very  early  in  the  morning), 
sent  out  messengers  to  see  to  the  carriage  and  its  contents,  and  roused  a 
surgeon  from  his  bed  to  tend  the  chief  sufferer.  All  the  service  he  could 
render,  he  rendered  promptly  and  skilfully.  But  he  gave  it  as  his 
opinion  that  the  boy  was  labouring  under  a  severe  concussion  of  the 
brain,  and  that  Mr.  Bailey's  mortal  course  was  run. 

If  Montague's  strong  interest  in  the  announcement  could  have  been 
considered  as  unselfish,  in  any  degree  ;  it  might  have  been  a  redeeming 
trait  in  a  character  that  had  no  such  lineaments  to  spare.  But  it  w^as 
not  difficult  to  see  that  for  some  unexpressed  reason  best  appreciated  by 
himself,  he  attached  a  strange  value  to  the  company  and  presence  of  this 
mere  child.  When,  after  receiving  some  assistance  from  the  surgeon 
himself,  he  retired  to  the  bed-room  prepared  for  him,  and  it  was  broad 
•day,  his  mind  was  still  dwelling  on  this  theme. 

"  I  would  rather  have  lost,"  he  said,  "  a  thousand  pounds  than  lost 
the  boy  just  now.  But  I  '11  return  home  alone  ;  I  am  resolved  upon 
that.  Chuzzlewit  shall  go  forward  first,  and  I  will  follow  in  my  own 
time.  I  '11  have  no  more  of  this,"  he  added,  wiping  his  damp  forehead. 
*'  Twenty-four  hours  of  this  would  turn  my  hair  gray  !  " 

After  examining  his  chamber,  and  looking  under  the  bed,  and  in  the 
cupboards,  and  even  behind  the  curtains,  with  unusual  caution  ;  although 
it  was,  as  has  been  said,  broad  day  ;  he  double-locked  the  door  by  which 
he  had  entered,  and  retired  to  rest.  There  was  another  door  in  the 
room,  but  it  was  locked  on  the  outer  side ;  and  with  what  place  it 
communicated,  he  knew  not. 

His  fears  or  evil  conscience  reproduced  this  door  in  all  his  dreams. 
He  dreamed  that  a  dreadful  secret  was  connected  with  it :  a  secret  which 
he  knew,  and  yet  did  not  know,  for  although  he  was  heavily  responsible 
for  it,  and  a  party  to  it,  he  was  harassed  even  in  his  vision  by  a  dis- 
tracting uncertainty  in  reference  to  its  import.  Incoherently  entwined 
with  this  dream  was  another,  which  represented  it  as  the  hiding-place 
of  an  enemy,  a  shadow,  a  phantom  ;  and  made  it  the  business  of  his 
life  to  keep  the  terrible  creature  closed  up,  and  prevent  it  from  forcing 
its  way  in  upon  him.  With  this  view  Nadgett,  and  he,  and  a  strange 
man  with  a  bloody  smear  upon  his  head  (who  told  him  that  he  had 
been  his  playfellow,  and  told  him,  too,  the  real  name  of  an  old  school- 
mate, forgotten  until  then),  worked  with  iron  plates  and  nails  to  make 


488  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

the  door  secure  ;  but  though  they  worked  never  so  hard,  it  was  all  in  vain, 
for  the  nails  broke,  or  changed  to  soft  twigs,  or,  what  was  worse,  to 
worros,  between  their  fingers  ;  the  wood  of  the  door  splintered  and 
crumbled,  so  that  even  nails  would  not  remain  in  it ;  and  the  iron  plates 
curled  up  like  hot  paper.  All  this  time  the  creature  on  the  other  side — 
whether  it  was  in  the  shape  of  man,  or  beast,  he  neither  knew  nor 
sought  to  know — was  gaining  on  them.  But  his  greatest  terror  was 
when  the  man  with  the  bloody  smear  upon  his  head  demanded  of  him 
if  he  knew  this  creature's  name,  and  said  that  he  would  whisper  it. 
At  this  the  dreamer  fell  upon  his  knees,  his  whole  blood  thrilling  with 
inexplicable  fear,  and  held  his  ears.  But  looking  at  the  speaker's  lips, 
he  saw  that  they  formed  the  utterance  of  the  letter  "  J  ;"  and  crying 
out  aloud  that  the  secret  was  discovered,  and  they  were  all  lost,  he 
awoke. 

Awoke  to  find  Jonas  standing  at  his  bedside  watching  him.  And 
that  very  door  wide  open. 

As  their  eyes  met,  Jonas  retreated  a  few  paces,  and  Montague  sprang 
out  of  bed. 

"  Heyday  !  "  said  Jonas.     "  You  're  all  alive  this  morning." 

"  Alive  ! "  the  other  stammered,  as  he  pulled  the  bell-rope  violently : 
"  What  are  you  doing  here  ? " 

"  It 's  your  room  to  be  sure,"  said  Jonas  ;  "  but  I  'm  almost  inclined 
to  ask  you  what  you  are  doing  here.  My  room  is  on  the  other  side  of 
that  door.  No  one  told  me  last  night  not  to  open  it.  I  thought  it  led 
into  a  passage,  and  was  coming  out  to  order  breakfast.  There  's — there 's 
no  bell  in  my  room." 

Montague  had  in  the  mean  time  admitted  the  man  with  his  hot  water 
and  boots,  who  hearing  this,  said,  yes,  there  was  ;  and  passed  into 
the  adjoining  room  to  point  it  out,  at  the  head  of  the  bed. 

"  I  couldn't  find  it,  then,"  said  Jonas  :  "  it's  all  the  same.  Shall  I 
order  breakfast  ?" 

Montague  answered  in  the  affirmative.  When  Jonas  had  retired, 
whistling,  through  his  own  room,  he  opened  the  door  of  communication, 
to  take  out  the  key  and  fasten  it  on  the  inner  side.  But  it  was  taken 
out  already. 

He  dragged  a  table  against  the  door  and  sat  down  to  collect  himself, 
as  if  his  dreams  still  had  some  influence  upon  his  mind. 

"  An  evil  journey,"  he  repeated  several  times.  "  An  evil  journey. 
But  I'll  travel  home  alone.     I'll  have  no  more  of  this  !  " 

His  presentiment,  or  superstition,  that  it  was  an  evil  journey,  did  not 
at  all  deter  him  from  doing  the  evil  for  which  the  journey  was  under- 
taken. With  this  in  view,  he  dressed  himself  more  carefully  than 
usual,  to  make  a  favourable  impression  on  Mr.  Pecksnifi" :  and,  reassured 
by  his  own  appearance,  the  beauty  of  the  morning,  and  the  flashing  of 
the  wet  boughs  outside  his  window  in  the  merry  sunshine,  he  was  soon. 
sufficiently  inspirited  to  swear  a  few  round  oaths,  and  hum  the  fag-end 
of  a  song. 

But  he  still  muttered  to  himself  at  intervals,  for  all  that :  "  I  '11 
travel  home  alone  !  " 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  489 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

HAS  AX  INFLUENCE  ON  THE  FORTUNES  OF  SEVERAL  PEOPLE.  MR.  PECK- 
SNIFF IS  EXHIBITED  IN  THE  PLENITUDE  OF  POAVER  ;  AND  WIELDS 
THE    SAME    WITH    FORTITUDE    AND    MAGNANIMITY. 

On  the  night  of  the  storm,  Mrs.  Lupin,  hostess  of  the  Blue  Dragon, 
sat  by  herself  in  her  little  bar.  Her  solitary  condition,  or  the  bad 
weather,  or  both  united,  made  Mrs.  Lupin  thoughtful,  not  to  say 
sorrowful;  and  as  she  sat  with  her  chin  upon  her  hand,  looking  out 
through  a  low  back  lattice,  rendered  dim  in  the  brightest  day-time  by 
clustering  vine-leaves,  she  shook  her  head  very  often,  and  said,  "  Dear 
me  !  ah,  dear,  dear  me  !  " 

It  was  a  melancholy  time,  even  in  the  snugness  of  the  Dragon  bar. 
The  rich  expanse  of  corn-field,  pasture-land,  green  slope,  and  gentle 
undulation,  with  its  sparkling  brooks,  its  many  hedgerows,  and  its 
clumps  of  beautiful  trees,  was  black  and  dreary,  from  the  diamond  panes 
of  the  lattice  away  to  the  far  horizon,  where  the  thunder  seemed  to  roll 
along  the  hills.  The  heavy  rain  beat  down  the  tender  branches  of  vine 
and  jessamine,  and  trampled  on  them  in  its  fury  ;  and  when  the  light- 
ning gleamed,  it  showed  the  tearful  leaves  shivering  and  cowering 
together  at  the  window,  and  tapping  at  it  urgently,  as  if  beseeching  to 
be  sheltered  from  the  dismal  night. 

As  a  mark  of  her  respect  for  the  lightning,  Mrs.  Lupin  had  removed 
her  candle  to  the  chimney-piece.  Her  basket  of  needlework  stood 
unheeded  at  her  elbow  ;  her  supper,  spread  on  a  round  table  not  far  off, 
was  untasted  ;  and  the  knives  had  been  removed  for  fear  of  attraction. 
She  had  sat  for  a  long  time  with  her  chin  upon  her  hand,  saying  to 
herself  at  intervals,  "  Dear  me  !  Ah,  dear,  dear  me  !  " 

She  was  on  the  eve  of  saying  so,  once  more,  when  the  latch  of  the 
house-door  (closed  to  keep  the  rain  out),  rattled  on  its  well-worn  catch, 
and  a  traveller  came  in,  who,  shutting  it  after  him,  and  walking 
straight  up  to  tlie  half-door  of  the  bar,  said,  rather  gruffly : 

"  A  pint  of  the  best  old  beer  here." 

He  had  some  reason  to  be  gruff,  for  if  he  had  passed  the  day  in 
a  waterfall,  he  could  scarcely  have  been  wetter  than  he  was.  He  was 
wrapped  up  to  the  eyes  in  a  rough  blue  sailor's  coat,  and  had  an  oil-skin 
hat  on,  from  the  capacious  brim  of  which,  the  rain  fell  trickling  down 
upon  his  breast,  and  back,  and  shoulders.  Judging  from  a  certain 
liveliness  of  chin — he  had  so  pulled  down  his  hat,  and  pulled  up  his 
collar,  to  defend  himself  from  the  weather,  that  she  could  only  see  his 
chin,  and  even  across  that  he  drew  the  wet  sleeve  of  his  shaggy  coat,  as 
she  looked  at  him — Mrs.  Lupin  set  him  doAvn  for  a  good-natured 
fellow,  too.' 

"  A  bad  night  I  "  observed  the  hostess  cheerfully. 

The  traveller  shook  himself  like  a  Newfoundland  dog,  and  said  ifc 
was,  rather. 


490  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES   OF 

"  There  's  a  fire  in  the  kitchen,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  "  and  very  good 
company  there.     Hadn't  you  better  go  and  dry  yourself?  " 

"  No,  thankee,"  said  the  man,  glancing  towards  the  kitchen  as  he 
spoke  :  he  seemed  to  know  the  way, 

"  It 's  enough  to  give  you  your  death  of  cold,"  observed  the  hostess. 

" I  don't  take  my  death  easy,"  returned  the  traveller ;  "or  I  should 
most  likely  have  took  it  afore  to-night.     Your  health,  ma'am  !  " 

Mrs.  Lupin  thanked  him ;  but  in  the  act  of  lifting  the  tankard  to  his 
mouth,  he  changed  his  mind,  and  put  it  down  again.  Throwing  his 
body  back,  and  looking  about  him  stiffly,  as  a  man  does  who  is  wrapped 
up,  and  has  his  hat  low  down  over  his  eyes,  he  said, 

"  What  do  you  call  this  house  ?  Not  the  Dragon,  do  you  1 " 

Mrs.  Lupin  complacently  made  answer,  "  Yes,  the  Dragon." 

"  Why,  then,  you  've  got  a  sort  of  relation  of  mine  here,  ma'am," 
said  the  traveller  :  "  a  young  man  of  the  name  of  Tapley.  What !  Mark, 
my  boy  !  "  apostrophising  the  premises,  "have  I  come  upon  you  at 
last,  old  buck  ! " 

This  was  touching  Mrs. .  Lupin  on  a  tender  point.  She  turned  to 
trim  the  candle  on  the  chimney-piece,  and  said,  with  her  back  towards 
the  traveller  : 

"  Nobody  should  be  made  more  welcome  at  the  Dragon,  master,  than 
any  one  who  brought  me  news  of  Mark.  But  it 's  many  and  many  a  long 
day  and  month  since  he  left  here  and  England.  And  whether  he 's 
alive  or  dead,  poor  fellow.  Heaven  above  us  only  knows  !  " 

She  shook  her  head,  and  her  voice  trembled ;  her  hand  must  have 
•done  so  too,  for  the  light  required  a  deal  of  trimming. 

"  Where  did  he  go,  ma'am  ? "  asked  the  traveller,  in  a  gentler  voice. 

"  He  went,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  with  increased  distress,  "  to  America. 
He  was  always  tender-hearted  and  kind,  and  perhaps  at  this  moment 
may  be  lying  in  prison  under  sentence  of  death,  for  taking  pity  on 
some  miserable  black,  and  helping  the  poor  runaway  creetur  to  escape. 
How  could  he  ever  go  to  America  !  Why  didn't  he  go  to  some  of  those 
countries  which  are  not  quite  barbarous ;  where  the  savages  eat  each 
other  fairly,  and  give  an  equal  chance  to  every  one  !  " 

Quite  subdued  by  this  time,  Mrs.  Lupin  sobbed,  and  was  retiring  to  a 
chair  to  give  her  grief  free  vent,  when  the  traveller  caught  her  in  his 
arms,  and  she  uttered  a  glad  cry  of  recognition. 

"  Yes,  I  will !  "  cried  Mark,  "  another — one  more — twenty  more  ! 
You  didn't  know  me  in  that  hat  and  coat  ?  I  thought  you  would  have 
known  me  anywhere  !     Ten  more  !  " 

"  So  I  should  have  known  you,  if  I  could  have  seen  you  ;  but  I  couldn't, 
;and  you  spoke  so  gruiF.  I  didn  't  think  you  could  speak  gruff  to  me, 
Mark,  at  first  coming  back." 

"  Fifteen  more  ! "  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  How  handsome  and  how  young 
you  look  !  Six  more  !  The  last  half-dozen  warn't  a  fair  one,  and 
must  be  done  over  again.  Lord  bless  you,  what  a  treat  it  is  to  see  you  ! 
One  more  !  Well,  I  never  was  so  jolly.  Just  a  few  more,  on  account 
of  there  not  being  any  credit  in  it  !  " 

When  Mr.  Tapley  stopped  in  these  calculations  in  simple  addition, 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  491 

he  did  it,  not  because  he  was  at  all  tired  of  the  exercise,  but  because  he 
was  out  of  breath.     The  pause  reminded  him  of  other  duties. 

"  Mr.  Martin  Chuzzlewit  's  outside,"  he  said.  "  I  left  him  under  the 
cart-shed,  while  I  came  on  to  see  if  there  was  anybody  here.  We  want 
to  keep  quiet  to-night,  'till  we  know  the  news  from  you,  and  what  it 's 
best  for  us  to  do." 

"  There 's  not  a  soul  in  the  house  except  the  kitchen  company," 
returned  the  hostess.  "  If  they  were  to  know  you  had  come  back, 
Mark,  they  'd  have  a  bonfire  in  the  street,  late  as  it  is." 

"  But  they  mustn't  know  it  to-night,  my  precious  soul,"  said  Mark  : 
"  so  have  the  house  shut,  and  the  kitchen  fire  made  up ;  and  when 
it 's  all  ready,  put  a  light  in  the  winder,  and  we  '11  come  in.  One  more  ! 
I  long  to  hear  about  old  friends.  You  '11  tell  me  all  about  'em,  won't 
you  :  Mr.  Pinch,  and  the  butcher's  dog  down  the  street,  and  the  terrier 
over  the  way,  and  the  wheelwright's,  and  every  one  of  'em.  When  I 
first  caught  sight  of  the  church  to-night,  I  thought  the  steeple  would 
have  choked  me,  I  did.  One  more  !  Won't  you  '?  Not  a  very  little 
one  to  finish  ofi"  with  ?  " 

"  You  have  had  plenty,  I  am  sure,"  said  the  hostess.  "  Go  along  with 
your  foreign  manners  ! " 

"That  ^aint  foreign,  bless  you  !"  cried  Mark.  "Native  as  oysters, 
that  is  !  One  more,  because  it 's  native  !  As  a  mark  of  respect  for 
the  land  we  live  in  !  This  don't  count  as  between  you  and  me,  you 
understand,"  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  I  a'n't  a  kissin'  you  now,  you'll 
observe.     I  have  been  among  the  patriots  :   I'm  a  kissin'  my  country."' 

It  would  have  been  very  unreasonable  to  complain  of  the  exhibi- 
tion of  his  patriotism  with  which  he  followed  up  this  explanation,  that 
it  was  all  lukewarm  or  indifferent.  When  he  had  given  full  expres- 
sion to  his  nationality,  he  hurried  off  to  Martin  ;  while  Mrs.  Lupin,  in 
a  state  of  great  agitation  and  excitement,  prepared  for  their  reception. 

The  company  soon  came  tumbling  out :  insisting  to  each  other  that 
the  Dragon  clock  was  half  an  hour  too  fast,  and  that  the  thunder 
must  have  affected  it.  Impatient,  wet,  and  weary,  though  they  were, 
Martin  and  IMark  were  overjoyed  to  see  these  old  faces,  and  watched 
them  with  delighted  interest,  as  they  departed  from  the  house,  and 
passed  close  by  them. 

"  There  's  the  old  tailor,  Mark  !  "  whispered  Martin. 

"  There  he  goes.  Sir  !  A  little  bandyer  than  he  was,  I  think.  Sir, 
^int  he  ?  His  figure 's  so  far  altered,  as  it  seems  to  me,  that  you  might 
wheel  a  rather  larger  barrow  between  his  legs  as  he  walks,  than  you 
could  have  done  conveniently,  when  we  know'd  him.  There  's  Sam  a 
coming  out.  Sir." 

"  Ah,  to  be  sure  !  "  cried  Martin  :  "  Sam,  the  hostler.  I  wonder 
whether  that  horse  of  Pecksniff's  is  alive  still  ?  " 

"  Not  a  doubt  on  it,  Sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  That 's  a  description  of 
animal.  Sir,  as  will  go  on  in  a  bony  way  peculiar  to  himself  for  a  long 
time,  and  get  into  the  newspapers  at  last  under  the  title  of  '  Sing'lar 
Tenacity  of  Life  in  a  Quadruped.'  As  if  he  had  ever  been  alive  in 
all  his  life,  worth  mentioning  !  There 's  the  clerk,  Sir, — wery  drunk, 
sls  usual." 


492  LIFE    AND    ADVENTUEES    OF 

"  I  see  him  !  "  said  Martin,  laughing.  "  But,  m j  life,  how  wet  you 
are,  Mark  ! " 

"  /  am  !     What  do  you  consider  yourself.  Sir  ?  " 

"  Oh,  not  half  as  bad,"  said  his  fellow-traveller,  with  an  air  of  great 
vexation.  "  I  told  you  not  to  keep  on  the  windy  side,  Mark,  but  to 
let  us  change  and  change  about.  The  rain  has  been  beating  on  you, 
ever  since  it  began.'' 

"  You  don't  know  how  it  pleases  me.  Sir,"  said  Mark,  after  a  short 
silence  :  "  if  I  may  make  so  bold  as  say  so,  to  hear  you  a  going  on  in  that 
there  uncommon  considerate  way  of  yours  ;  which  I  don't  mean  to  attend 
to,  never,  but  which,  ever  since  that  time  when  I  was  floored  in  Eden, 
you  have  shewed." 

"Ah  Mark  !  "  sighed  Martin,  "the  less  we  say  of  that  the  better. 
Do  I  see  the  light  yonder  1  " 

"  That 's  the  light  !  "  cried  Mark.  "  Lord  bless  her,  what  briskness 
she  possesses  !  Now  for  it,  sir.  Neat  wines,  good  beds,  and  first-rate 
entertainment  for  man  or  beast." 

The  kitchen  fire  burnt  clear  and  red,  the  table  was  spread  out,  the 
kettle  boiled,  the  slippers  were  there,  the  boot-jack  too,  sheets  of  ham 
were  cooking  on  the  gridiron,  half-a-dozen  eggs  were  poaching  in  the 
frying-pan  ;  a  plethoric  cherry-brandy  bottle  was  winking  at  a  foaming 
jug  of  beer  upon  the  table ;  rare  provisions  were  dangling  from  the 
rafters  as  if  you  had  only  to  open  your  mouth,  and  something  exquisitely 
ripe  and  good  would  be  but  too  glad  of  the  excuse  for  tumbling  into  it. 
Mrs.  Lupin,  who  for  their  sakes  had  dislodged  the  very  cook,  high 
priestess  of  the  temple,  with  her  own  genial  hands  was  dressing  their 
repast. 

It  was  impossible  to  help  it — a  ghost  must  have  hugged  her.  The 
Atlantic  Ocean  and  the  Red  Sea  being,  in  that  respect,  all  one,  Martin 
hugged  her  instantly.  Mr.  Tapley  (as  if  the  idea  were  quite  novel,  and 
had  never  occurred  to  him  before),  followed,  with  much  gravity,  on  the 
same  side. 

"  Little  did  I  ever  think,"  said  Mrs.  Lupin,  adjusting  her  cap  and 
laughing  heartily  ;  yes,  and  blushing  too  ;  "  often  as  I  have  said  that 
Mr.  Pecksniff 's  young  gentlemen  were  the  life  and  soul  of  the  Dragon, 
and  that  without  them  it  would  be  too  dull  to  live  in — little  did  I  ever 
think,  I  am  sure,  that  any  one  of  them  would  ever  make  so  free  as  you, 
Mr.  Martin  !  And  still  less  that  I  shouldn't  be  angry  with  him,  but 
should  be  glad  with  all  my  heart,  to  be  the  first  to  welcome  him  home 
from  America,  with  Mark  Tapley,  for  his  —  " 

"  For  his  friend,  Mrs.  Lupin,"  interposed  Martin  hastily. 

"  For  his  friend,"  said  the  hostess,  evidently  gratified  by  this  dis- 
tinction, but  at  the  same  time  admonishing  Mr.  Tapley  with  a  fork,  to 
remain  at  a  respectful  distance.  "  Little  did  I  ever  think  that !  But 
still  less,  that  I  should  ever  have  the  changes  to  relate  that  I  shall 
have  to  tell  you  of,  when  you  have  done  your  supper  ! " 

"  Good  Heaven  !  "  cried  Martin,  changing  colour,   "  What  changes"  1 " 

"  Me,"  said  the  hostess,  "  is  quite  well,  and  now  at  Mr.  Pecksniff"'s. 
Don't  be  at  all  alarmed  about  her.     She  is  everything  you  could  wish. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLBWIT.  493 

It 's  of  no  use  mincing  matters  or  making  secrets,  is  it  ? "  added  Mrs. 
Lupin.     "  I  know  all  about  it,  you  see  ! " 

"  My  good  creature,"  returned  Martin,  "  you  are  exactly  the  person 
who  ought  to  know  all  about  it.  I  am  delighted  to  think  you  do  know 
all  about  it.  But  what  changes  do  you  hint  at  1  Has  any  death 
occurred  *?  " 

"  No,  no  !  "  said  the  hostess.  "  Not  so  bad  as  that.  But  I  declare 
now  that  I  will  not  be  drawn  into  saying  another  word  till  you  have 
had  your  supper.  If  you  ask  me  fifty  questions  in  the  mean  time,  I  won't 
answer  one." 

She  was  so  positive  that  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  get  the  supper 
over  as  quickly  as  possible  ;  and  as  they  had  been  walking  a  great 
many  miles,  and  had  fasted  since  the  middle  of  the  day,  they  did  no 
great  violence  to  their  own  inclinations  in  falling  on  it  tooth  and  nail. 
It  took  rather  longer  to  get  through  than  might  have  been  expected  ; 
for,  half-a-dozen  times,  when  they  thought  they  had  finished,  Mrs.  Lupin 
exposed  the  fallacy  of  that  impression  triumphantly.  But  at  last,  in 
the  course  of  time  and  nature,  they  gave  in.  Then,  sitting  with  their 
slippered  feet  stretched  out  upon  the  kitchen  hearth  (which  was  wonder- 
fully comforting,  for  the  night  had  grown  by  this  time  raw  and  chilly), 
and  looking  with  involuntary  admiration  at  their  dimpled,  buxom, 
blooming  hostess,  as  the  firelight  sparkled  in  her  eyes  and  glimmered 
in  her  raven  hair,  they  composed  themselves  to  listen  to  her  news. 

Many  were  the  exclamations  of  surprise  which  interrupted  her,  when 
she  told  them  of  the  separation  between  Mr.  Pecksniff'  and  his  daughters, 
and  between  the  same  good  gentleman  and  Mr.  Pinch.  But  these  were 
nothing  to  the  indignant  demonstrations  of  Martin,  when  she  related, 
as  the  common  talk  of  the  neighbourhood,  what  entire  possession  he  had 
obtained  over  the  mind  and  person  of  old  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  and  what  high 
honour  he  designed  for  Mary.  On  receipt  of  this  intelligence,  Martin's 
slippers  flew  off*  in  a  twinkling,  and  he  began  pulling  on  his  wet  boots 
with  that  indefinite  intention  of  going  somewhere  instantly,  and  doing 
something  to  somebody,  which  is  the  first  safety-valve  of  a  hot  temper. 

"  He  !"  said  Martin,  "smooth-tongued  villain  that  he  is  1  He  !  Give 
me  that  other  boot,  Mark  !  " 

"  Where  was  you  a  thinking  of  going  to,  sir  ?  "  inquired  Mr.  Tapley, 
drying  the  sole  at  the  fire,  and  looking  coolly  at  it  as  he  spoke,  as  if  it 
were  a  slice  of  toast. 

"  Where  !  "  repeated  Martin.  "  You  don't  suppose  I  am  going  to 
remain  here,  do  you  ?  " 

The  imperturbable  Mark  confessed  that  he  did. 

"  You  do  !  "  retorted  Martin  angrily.  "  I  am  much  obliged  to  you. 
What  do  you  take  me  for  1 " 

"  I  take  you  for  what  you  are,  sir,"  said  Mark  ;  "  and,  consequently, 
am  quite  sure  that  whatever  you  do,  will  be  right  and  sensible.  The 
boot,  sir." 

Martin  darted  an  impatient  look  at  him,  without  taking  it,  and 
walked  rapidly  up  and  down  the  kitchen  several  times,  with  one  boot 
and  a  stocking  on.    But,  mindful  of  his  Eden  resolution,  he  had  already 


494  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

gained  many  victories  over  himself  when  Mark  v/as  in  the  case,  and  he 
resolved  to  conquer  now.  So  he  came  back  to  the  boot-jack,  laid  his 
hand  on  Mark's  shoulder  to  steady  himself,  pulled  the  boot  off,  picked 
up  his  slippers,  put  them  on,  and  sat  down  again.  He  could  not  help 
thrusting  his  hands  to  the  very  bottom  of  his  pockets,  and  muttering 
at  intervals,  "  Pecksniff  too  !  That  fellow  !  Upon  my  soul  !  In-deed  I 
What  next  ?  "  and  so  forth  :  nor  could  he  help  occasionally  shaking  his 
iist  at  the  chimney,  with  a  very  threatening  countenance  :  but  this 
did  not  last  long  ;  and  he  heard  Mrs.  Lupin  out,  if  not  with  composure, 
at  all  events  in  silence. 

"As  to  Mr.  Pecksniff  himself,"  observed  the  hostess  in  conclusion, 
spreading  out  the  skirts  of  her  gown  with  both  hands,  and  nodding  her 
head  a  great  many  times  as  she  did  so,  "  I  don't  know  what  to  say. 
Somebody  must  have  poisoned  his  mind,  or  influenced  him  in  some 
extraordinary  way.  I  cannot  believe  that  such  a  noble-spoken  gentle- 
man would  go  and  do  wrong  of  his  own  accord !  " 

How  many  people  are  there  in  the  world,  who,  for  no  better  reason, 
uphold  their  Pecksniffs  to  the  last,  and  abandon  virtuous  men,  when. 
Pecksniffs  breathe  upon  them  ! 

"  As  to  Mr.  Pinch,"  pursued  the  landlady,  "  if  ever  there  was  a  dear, 
good,  pleasant,  w^orthy,  soul  alive,  Pinch,  and  no  other,  is  his  name. 
But  how  do  we  know  that  old  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  himself  was  not  the  cause 
of  difference  arising  between  him  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  ?  No  one  but 
themselves  can  tell :  for  Mr.  Pinch  has  a  proud  spirit,  though  he  has 
such  a  quiet  way ;  and  when  he  left  us,  and  was  so  sorry  to  go,  he 
scorned  to  make  his  story  good,  even  to  me." 

"  Poor  old  Tom  ! "  said  Martin,  in  a  tone  that  sounded  like 
remorse. 

"  It 's  a  comfort  to  know,"  resumed  the  landlady,  "  that  he  has  his 
sister  living  with  him,  and  is  doing  well.  Only  yesterday  he  sent  me 
back,  by  post,  a  little" — here  the  colour  came  into  her  cheeks — "a  little 
trifle  I  was  bold  enough  to  lend  him  when  he  went  away  :  saying,  with 
many  thanks,  that  he  had  good  employment,  and  didn't  want  it.  It 
was  the  same  note ;  he  hadn't  broken  it.  I  never  thought  I  could  have 
been  so  little  pleased  to  see  a  bank-note  come  back  to  me,  as  I  was 
to  see  that." 

"  Kindly  said,  and  heartily  ! "  said  Martin.     "  Is  it  not,  Mark  ?  " 

"  She  can't  say  anything  as  does  not  possess  them  qualities,"  returned 
Mr.  Tapley  ;  "  which  as  much  belong  to  the  Dragon  as  its  license.  And 
now  that  we  have  got  quite  cool  and  fresh,  to  the  subject  again.  Sir  : 
what  will  you  do  ?  If  you  're  not  proud,  and  can  make  up  your  mind 
to  go  through  with  what  you  spoke  of,  coming  along,  that 's  the  course 
for  you  to  take.  If  you  started  wrong  with  your  grandfather  :  (which, 
you  '11  excuse  my  taking  the  liberty  of  saying,  appears  to  have  been  the 
case),  up  with  you.  Sir,  and  tell  him  so,  and  make  an  appeal  to  his 
affections.  Don't  stand  out.  He  's  a  great  deal  older  than  you,  and  if 
he  was  hasty,  you  was  hasty  too:     Give  way.  Sir,  give  way." 

The  eloquence  of  Mr.  Tapley  was  not  without  its  effect  on  Martin, 
but  he  still  hesitated,  and  expressed  his  reason  thus  : 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  495 

"  That's  all  very  true,  and  perfectly  correct,  Mark  ;  and  if  it  were  a 
mere  question  of  humbling  myself  before  him,  I  would  not  consider  it 
twice.  But  don't  you  see,  that  being  wholly  under  this  hypocrite's 
government,  and  having  (if  what  we  hear  be  true)  no  mind  or  will  of 
his  own,  I  throw  myself,  in  fact,  not  at  his  feet,  but  at  the  feet  of  Mr. 
Pecksniff?  And  when  I  am  rejected  and  spurned  away,"  said  Martin,^ 
turning  crimson  at  the  thought,  "  it  is  not  by  him  :  my  own  blood 
stirred  against  me  :  but  by  Pecksniff — Pecksniff,  Mark  !  " 

"  Well,   but  we  know  beforehand,"  returned  the  politic  Mr.   Tapley^ 
"that  Pecksniff  is  a  wagabond,  a  scoundrel,  and  a  willain." 

"  A  most  pernicious  villain !  "  said  Martin. 

"  A  most  pernicious  willain.  We  know  that  beforehand,  sir  ;  and^ 
consequently,  it 's  no  shame  to  be  defeated  by  Pecksniff.  Blow  Pecksniff!' 
cried  Mr.  Tapley,  in  the  fervour  of  his  eloquence.  "  Who's  he!  It 's  not. 
in  the  natur  of  Pecksniff  to  shame  us,  unless  he  agreed  with  us,  or 
done  us  a  service  ;  and,  in  case  he  offered  any  outdacity  of  that  descrip- 
tion, we  could  express  our  sentiments  in  the  English  language,  I  hope  1 
Pecksniff  !  "  repeated  Mr.  Tapley,  with  ineffable  disdain.  "  What 's 
Pecksniff,  who  's  Pecksniff,  where 's  Pecksniff,  that  he  's  to  be  so  much, 
considered  ?  We  're  not  a  calculating  for  ourselves  ;  "  he  laid  uncommon 
emphasis  on  the  last  syllable  of  that  word,  and  looked  full  in  Martin's 
face  ;  "  we  're  making  a  effort  for  a  young  lady  likewise  as  has  undergone 
her  share  ;  and  whatever  little  hope  we  have,  this  here  Pecksniff  is  not 
to  stand  in  its  way,  I  expect,  I  never  heerd  of  any  act  of  Parliament 
as  was  made  by  Pecksniff.  Pecksniff  !  Why,  I  wouldn't  see  the  man 
myself ;  I  wouldn't  hear  him ;  I  wouldn't  choose  to  know  he  was  in 
company.  I'd  scrape  my  shoes  on  the  scraper  of  the  door,  and  call  that 
Pecksniff,  if  you  liked  ;   but  I  wouldn't  condescend  no  further." 

The  amazement  of  Mrs.  Lupin,  and  indeed  of   Mr.   Tapley  himself 
for  that  matter,  at  this  impassioned  flow  of  language,  was  immense. 
But  Martin,  after  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  fire  for  a  short  time,  said  : 

"  You  are  right,  Mark.    Right  or  wrong,  it  shall  be  done.    I  '11  do  it." 

"  One  word  more  Sir,"  returned  Mark.  "  Only  think  of  him  so  far, 
as  not  to  give  him  a  handle  against  you.  Don't  you  do  anything  secret, 
that  he  can  report  before  you  get  there.  Don't  you  even  see  Miss  Mary 
in  the  morning,  but  let  this  here  dear  friend  of  ours ; "  Mr.  Taplej^ 
bestowed  a  smile  upon  the  hostess  ;  "  prepare  her  for  what 's  a  going  to 
happen,  and  carry  any  little  message  as  may  be  agreeable.  She  knows 
how.  Don't  you  V  Mrs.  Lupin  laughed  and  tossed  her  head.  "  Then 
you  go  in,  bold  and  free  as  a  gentleman  should.  ^  I  haven't  done 
nothing  under-handed,'  says  you.  '  I  haven't  been  a  skulking  about  the 
premises,  here  I  am,  for-give  me,  I  ask  your  pardon,  God  Bless  You  !" 

Martin  smiled,  but  felt  that  it  was  good  advice  notwithstanding,  and 
resolved  to  act  upon  it.  When  they  had  ascertained  from  Mrs.  Lupin 
that  Pecksniff  had  already  returned  from  the  great  ceremonial  at  which 
they  had  beheld  him  in  his  glory ;  and  when  they  had  fully  arranged 
the  order  of  their  proceedings  ;  they  went  to  bed,  intent  upon  the 
morrow. 

In  pursuance  of  their  project  as  agreed  upon  at  this  discussion;  ]\Ir. 


496  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

Tapley  issued  fortk  next  morning,  after  breakfast,  charged  with  a  letter 
from  Martin  to  his  grandfather,  requesting  leave  to  wait  upon  him  for  a 
few  minutes.  And  postponing  as  he  went  along  the  congratulations  of 
his  numerous  friends  until  a  more  convenient  season,  he  soon  arrived  at 
Mr.  Pecksniffs  house.  At  that  gentleman's  door  :  with  a  face  so 
immoveable  that  it  would  have  been  next  to  an  impossibility  for  the 
most  acute  physiognomist  to  determine  what  he  was  thinking  about,  or 
whether  he  was  thinking  at  all :  he  straightway  knocked. 

A  person  of  Mr.  Tapley's  observation  could  not  long  remain  insensible 
to  the  fact,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  making  the  end  of  his  nose  very  blunt 
against  the  glass  of  the  parlour  window,  in  an  angular  attempt  to  discover 
who  had  knocked  at  the  door.  Nor  was  Mr.  Tapley  slow  to  baffle  this 
movement  on  the  part  of  the  enemy,  by  perching  himself  on  the  top 
step,  and  presenting  the  crown  of  his  hat  in  that  direction.  But  possibly 
Mr.  Pecksniff  had  already  seen  him,  for  Mark  soon  heard  his  shoes 
creaking,  as  he  advanced  to  open  the  door  with  his  own  hands. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  was  as  cheerful  as  ever,  and  sang  a  little  song  in  the 
passage. 

"  How  d'ye  do  Sir  ?"  said  Mark. 

"Ohl"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "Tapley,  I  believe?  The  Prodigal 
returned  !  We  don't  want  any  Beer,  my  friend." 

"  Thankee  Sir,"  said  Mark.  "  I  couldn't  accommodate  you,  if  you 
did.     A  letter  Sir.     Wait  for  an  answer." 

"  For  me  ?"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "  And  an  answer,  eh  ?" 

"  Not  for  you  I  think  Sir,"  said  Mark,  pointing  out  the  direction. 
"Chuzzlewit,  I  believe  the  name  is.  Sir." 

"  Oh  !"  returned  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Thank  you.  Yes.  Who's  it  from, 
my  good  young  man  "?" 

"  The  gentleman  it  comes  from,  wrote  his  name  inside  Sir,"  returned 
Mr,  Tapley  with  extreme  politeness.  "  I  see  him  a  signing  of  it  at  the 
end,  while  I  was  a  waitin'." 

"  And  he  said  he  wanted  an  answer  did  he  ]"  asked  Mr.  Pecksniff  in 
his  most  persuasive  manner. 

Mark  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  He  shall  have  an  answer.  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  tearing  the 
ktter  into  small  pieces  as  mildly  as  if  that  were  the  most  flattering 
attention  a  correspondent  could  receive.  "  Have  the  goodness  to  give 
him  that,  with  my  compliments,  if  you  please.  Good  morning!" 
Whereupon,  he  handed  Mark  the  scraps  ;  retired  ;  and  shut  the  door. 

Mark  thought  it  prudent  to  subdue  his  personal  emotions,  and  return 
to  Martin,  at  the  Dragon.  They  were  not  unprepared  for  such  a  recep- 
tion, and  suffered  an  hour  or  so  to  elapse  before  making  another  attempt. 
When  this  interval  had  gone  by,  they  returned  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house 
in  company.  Martin  knocked  this  time,  while  Mr.  Tapley  prepared 
himself  to  keep  the  door  open  with  his  foot  and  shoulder,  when  anybody 
came,  and  by  that  means  secure  an  enforced  parley.  But  this  precaution 
was  needless,  for  the  servant-girl  appeared  almost  immediately.  Brushing 
quickly  past  her  as  he  had  resolved  in  such  a  case  to  do,  Martin  (closely 
followed  by  his  faithful  ally)  opened  the  door  of  that  parlour  in  which 


fi/^  'L^^  /'/:/f/>^/i^/7  a^/^^^//^//r^ 


'^//r€,<>  M^ /?L4t'// iZJ  m^r-^^^^' ^/  >^^>^/^ 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  497 

he  knew  a  visitor  was  most  likely  to  be  found  ;  passed  at  once  into  the 
room  ;  and  stood,  without  a  word  of  notice  or  announcement,  in  the  pre- 
sence of  his  grandfather. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  also  was  in  the  room  ;  and  Mary.  In  the  swift  instant 
of  their  mutual  recognition,  Martin  saw  the  old  man  droop  his  gray 
head,  and  hide  his  face  in  his  hands. 

It  smote  him  to  the  heart.  In  his  most  selfish  and  most  careless  day, 
this  lingering  remnant  of  the  old  man's  ancient  love,  this  buttress  of  a 
ruined  tower  he  had  built  up  in  the  time  gone  by,  with  so  much  pride 
and  hope,  would  have  caused  a  pang  in  Martin's  heart.  But  now, 
changed  for  the  better  in  his  worst  respect ;  looking  through  an  altered 
medium  on  his  former  friend,  the  guardian  of  his  childhood,  so  broken 
and  bowed  down  ;  resentment,  suUenness,  self-confidence,  and  pride,  were 
all  swept  away,  before  the  starting  tears  upon  the  withered  cheeks.  He 
could  not  bear  to  see  them.  He  could  not  bear  to  think  they  fell  at 
sight  of  him.  He  could  not  bear  to  view  reflected  in  them,  the  reproach- 
ful and  irrevocable  Past. 

He  hurriedly  advanced,  to  seize  the  old  man's  hand  in  his,  when  Mr. 
Pecksniff  interposed  himself  between  them. 

"No,  young  man  !•"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  striking  himself  upon  the 
breast,  and  stretching. out  his  other  arm  towards  his  guest  as  if  it  were 
a  wing  to  shelter  him.  "  No  Sir.  None  of  that.  Strike  here  Sir,  here  ! 
Launch  your  arrows  at  Me  sir,  if  you'll  have  the  goodness  ;  not  at  Him  !" 

"  Grandfather  ! "  cried  Martin.  "  Hear  me  !  I  implore  you,  let  me 
speak !" 

"  Would  you  Sir  !  Would  you  ! "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  dodging  about, 
so  as  to  keep  himself  always  between  them.  "  Is  it  not  enough.  Sir,  that 
you  come  into  my  house  like  a  thief  in  the  night,  or  I  should  rather  say, 
for  we  can  never  be  too  particular  on  the  subject  of  Truth,  like  a  thief 
in  the  day-time  ;  bringing  your  dissolute  companions  with  you,  to  plant 
themselves  with  their  backs  against  the  insides  of  parlour  doors,  and  pre- 
vent the  entrance  or  issuing  forth  of  any  of  my  household  ; "  Mark  had 
taken  up  this  position,  and  held  it  quite  unmoved  ;  "  but  would  you  also 
strike  at  venerable  Virtue  1  Would  you  1  Know  that  it  is  not  defenceless. 
I  will  be  its  shield  young  man    Assail  me.    Come  on  Sir.    Fire  away  ! " 

"  Pecksniff,"  said  the  old  man,  in  a  feeble  voice.  "  Calm  yourself. 
Be  quiet." 

"  I  can't  be  calm,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  and  I  won't  be  quiet.  My 
benefactor  and  my  friend  !  Shall  even  my  house  be  no  refuge  for  your 
hoary  pillow ! " 

"  Stand  aside  !  "  said  the  old  man,  stretching  out  his  hand  ;  "  and  let 
me  see  what  it  is,  I  used  to  love  so  dearly." 

"  It  is  right  that  you  should  see  it,  my  friend,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 
"  It  is  well  that  you  should  see  it,  my  noble  Sir.  It  is  desirable  that  you 
should  contemplate  it  in  its  true  proportions.  Behold  it !  There  it  is 
Sir.     There  it  is  !  " 

Martin  could  hardly  be  a  mortal  man,  and  not  express  in  his  face, 
something  of  the  anger  and  disdain,  with  which  Mr.  Pecksniff  inspired 
him.      But  beyond  this   he  evinced  no  knowledge  whatever  of  that 

K  K 


498  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

gentleman's  presence  or  existence.  True,  he  had  once,  and  that  at  first, 
glanced  at  him  involuntarily,  and  with  supreme  contempt ;  but  for  any 
other  heed  he  took  of  him,  there  might  have  been  nothing  in  his  place 
save  empty  air. 

As  Mr.  Pecksniff  withdrew  from  between  them,  agreeably  to  the  wish 
just  now  expressed  (which  he  did,  during  the  delivery  of  the  observations 
last  recorded),  old  Martin,  who  had  taken  Mary  Graham's  hand  in  his, 
and  whispered  kindly  to  her,  as  telling  her  she  had  no  cause  to  be 
alarmed,  gently  pushed  her  from  him,  behind  his  chair ;  and  looked 
steadily  at  his  grandson. 

"  And  that,"  he  said,  "  is  he.  Ah  !  that  is  he  1  Say  what  you  wish 
to  say.     But  come  no  nearer." 

"  His  sense  of  justice  is  so  fine,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "that  he  will  hear 
even  him;  although  he  knows  beforehand  that  nothing  can  come  of  it.  In- 
genuous mind !"  Mr.  Pecksniff  did  not  address  himself  immediately  to  any 
person  in  saying  this,  but  assuming  the  position  of  the  Chorus  in  a  Greek 
Tragedy,  delivered  his  opinion  as  a  commentary  on  the  proceedings. 

"  Grandfather  !"  said  Martin,  with  great  earnestness.  "  From  a  painful 
journey,  from  a  hard  life,  from  a  sick  bed,  from  privation  and  distress, 
from  gloom  and  disappointment,  from  almost  hopelessness  and  despair, 
I  have  come  back  to  you." 

"  Ptovers  of  this  sort,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  Chorus,  "very  com- 
monly come  back  when  they  find  they  don't  meet  with  the  success  they 
expected  in  their  marauding  ravages." 

"  But  for  this  faithful  man,"  said  Martin,  turning  towards  Mark, 
"  whom  I  first  knew  in  this  place,  and  who  went  away  with  me  volun- 
tarily, as  a  servant,  but  has  been,  throughout,  my  zealous  and  devoted 
friend  ;  but  for  him,  I  must  have  died  abroad.  Par  from  home,  far 
from  any  help  or  consolation  ;  far  from  the  probability  even  of  my 
wretched  fate  being  ever  known  to  any  one  who  cared  to  hear  it — oh 
that  you  would  let  me  say,  of  being  known  to  you  !  " 

The  old  man  looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff.  Mr.  Pecksniff  looked  at  him. 
"  Did  you  speak  my  worthy  Sir  1 "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  smile. 
The  old  man  answered  in  the  negative.  "  I  know  what  you  thought," 
said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  another  smile.  "  Let  him  go  on,  my  friend. 
The  development  of  self-interest  in  the  human  mind  is  always  a  curious 
study.     Let  him  go  on,  Sir." 

"  Go  on  !  "  observed  the  old  man  ;  in  a  mechanical  obedience,  it 
appeared,  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  suggestion. 

"  I  have  been  so  wretched  and  so  poor,"  said  Martin,  "  that  I  am 
indebted  to  the  charitable  help  of  a  stranger  in  a  land  of  strangers,  for 
the  means  of  returning  here.  All  this  tells  against  me  in  your  mind,  I 
know.  I  have  given  you  cause  to  think  I  have  been  driven  here  wholly 
by  want,  and  have  not  been  led  on,  in  any  degree,  by  affection  or  regret. 
When  I  parted  from  you,  Grandfather,  I  deserved  that  suspicion,  buf 
I  do  not  now.     I  do  not  now." 

The  Chorus  put  its  hand  in  its  waistcoat,  and  smiled.  "  Let  him  go 
on,  my  worthy  Sir,"  it  said.  "  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  of,  but 
don't  express  it  prematurely." 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  499 

Old  Martin  raised  his  eyes  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  face,  and  appearing  to 
derive  renewed  instruction  from  his  looks  and  words,  said,  once  again  : 

"Go  on!" 

"  I  have  little  more  to  say,"  returned  Martin.  "  And  as  I  say  it 
now,  with  little  or  no  hope,  Grandfather  ;  whatever  dawn  of  hope  I 
had  on  enterino^  the  room  :  believe  it  to  be  true.  At  least  believe  it 
to  be  true." 

"  Beautiful  Truth  ! "  exclaimed  the  Chorus,  looking  upward.  *^  How 
is  your  name  profaned  by  vicious  persons  !  You  don't  live  in  a  well, 
my  holy  principle,  but  on  the  lips  of  false  mankind.  It  is  hard  to  bear 
•with  mankind,  dear  Sir," — addressing  the  elder  Mr.  Chuzzlewit;  "but 
let  us  do  so,  meekly.  It  is  our  duty  so  to  do.  Let  us  be  among  the 
Pew  who  do  their  duty.  If,"  pursued  the  Chorus,  soaring  up  into  a 
lofty  flight,  "  as  the  poet  informs  us,  England  expects  Every  man  to 
do  his  duty,  England  is  the  most  sanguine  country  on  the  face  of  the 
earth,  and  will  find  itself  continually  disappointed." 

"  Upon  that  subject,"  said  Martin,  looking  calmly  at  the  old  man  as 
he  spoke,  but  glancing  once  at  Mary,  whose  face  was  now  buried  in  her 
hands,  upon  the  back  of  his  easy  chair  :  "upon  that  subject,  which  first 
occasioned  a  division  between  us,  my  mind  and  heart  are  incapable  of 
change.  Whatever  influence  they  have  undergone,  since  that  unhappy 
time,  has  not  been  one  to  weaken  but  to  strengthen  me.  I  cannot  pro- 
fess sorrow  for  that,  nor  irresolution  in  that,  nor  shame  in  that.  Nor 
would  you  wish  me,  I  know.  But  that  I  might  have  trusted  to  your 
love,  if  I  had  thrown  myself  manfully  upon  it ;  that  I  might  have 
won  you  over  with  ease,  if  I  had  been  more  yielding,  and  more  con- 
siderate ;  that  I  should  have  best  remembered  myself  in  forgetting 
myself,  and  recollecting  you ;  reflection,  solitude,  and  misery,  have 
taught  me.  I  came  resolved  to  say  this,  and  to  ask  your  forgiveness  : 
not  so  much  in  hope  for  the  future,  as  in  regret  for  the  past  :  for  all 
that  I  would  ask  of  you,  is,  that  you  would  aid  me  to  live.  Help  me 
to  get  honest  work  to  do,  and  I  would  do  it.  My  condition  places  me 
at  the  disadvantage  of  seeming  to  have  only  my  selfish  ends  to  serve, 
but  try  if  that  be  so,  or  not.  Try  if  I  be  self-wdlled,  obdurate,  and 
haughty,  as  I  was  ;  or  have  been  disciplined  in  a  rough  school.  Let 
the  voice  of  nature  and  association  plead  between  us,  Grandfather;  and 
do  not,  for  one  fault,  how^ever  thankless,  quite  reject  me  1  " 

As  he  ceased,  the  gray  head  of  the  old  man  drooped  again  j  and  he 
concealed  his  face  behind  his  outspread  fingers. 

"  My  dear  Sir,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff",  bending  over  him,  "  you  must 
not  give  way  to  this.  It  is  very  natural,  and  very  amiable,  but  you 
must  not  allow  the  shameless  conduct  of  one  whom  you  long  ago  cast 
off",  to  move  you  so  far.  Rouse  yourself.  Think,"  said  Mr.  Pecksnifif, 
■"  think  of  Me,  my  friend." 

"  I  will,"  returned  old  Martin,  looking  up  into  his  face.  "  You 
recall  me  to  myself.     I  will." 

"  Why,  what,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff",  sitting  down  beside  him  in  a  chair 
which  he  drew  up  for  the  purpose,  and  tapping  him  playfully  on  the 
arm,  "  what  is  the  matter  with  my  strong-minded  compatriot,  if  I  may 

K  K  2 


500  LIFE    A>'D    ADVENTURES    OP 

venture  to  take  tlie  liberty  of  calling  him  by  that  endearing  expression  1 
Shall  I  have  to  scold  my  coadjutor,  or  to  reason  with  an  intellect  like 
his  ?     I  think  not." 

"  i^o,  no.  There  is  no  occasion,"  said  the  old  man.  "  A  momentary 
feeling.     Nothing  more." 

"  Indignation,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  will  bring  the  scalding  tear 
into  the  honest  eye,  I  know  " — he  wiped  his  own  elaborately.  "  But 
we  have  higher  duties  to  perform  than  that.  Rouse  yourself,  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit.     Shall  I  give  expression  to  your  thoughts,  my  friend  ? " 

"  Yes,"  said  old  Martin,  leaning  back  in  his  chair,  and  looking  at 
him,  half  in  vacancy  and  half  in  admiration,  as  if  he  were  fascinated  by 
the  man.  "  Speak  for  me,  Pecksniff.  Thank  you.  You  are  true  to 
me.     Thank  you!" 

"  Do  not  unman  me,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his  hand 
vigorously,  "  or  I  shall  be  unequal  to  the  task.  It  is  not  agreeable  to  my 
feelings,  my  good  Sir,  to  address  the  person  who  is  now  before  us,  for  when 
I  ejected  him  from  this  house,  after  hearing  of  his  unnatural  conduct 
from  your  lips,  I  renounced  communication  with  him  for  ever.  But  you 
desire  it ;  and  that  is  sufficient.  Young  man  !  The  door  is  imme- 
diately behind  the  companion  of  your  infamy.  Blush  if  you  can  ; 
begone  without  a  blush,  if  you  can't." 

Martin  looked  as  steadily  at  his  grandfather  as  if  there  had  been  a 
dead  silence  all  this  time.  The  old  man  looked  no  less  steadily  at 
Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  When  I  ordered  you  to  leave  this  house  upon  the  last  occasion  of 
your  being  dismissed  from  it  with  disgrace,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff:  "when, 
stung  and  stimulated  beyond  endurance  by  your  shameless  conduct  to 
this  extraordinarily  noble-minded  individual,  I  exclaimed  '  Go  forth  ! ' 
I  told  you  that  I  wept  for  your  depravity.  Do  not  suppose  that  the 
tear  which  stands  in  my  eye  at  this  moment,  is  shed  for  you.  It  is  shed 
for  him.  Sir.     It  is  shed  for  him." 

Here  Mr.  Pecksniff,  accidentally  dropping  the  tear  in  question  on  a 
bald  part  of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit's  head,  wiped  the  place  with  his  pocket- 
handkerchief,  and  begged  pardon. 

"  It  is  shed  for  him,  Sir,  whom  you  seek  to  make  the  victim  of  your 
arts,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff :  "  whom  you  seek  to  plunder,  to  deceive,  and 
to  mislead.  It  is  shed  in  sympathy  with  him,  and  admiration  of  him ; 
not  in  pity  for  him,  for  happily  he  knows  what  you  are.  You  shall  not 
wrong  him  further,  Sir,  in  anyway,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  quite  transported 
with  enthusiasm,  "  while  I  have  Life.  You  may  bestride  my  senseless 
corse,  sir.  That  is  very  likely.  I  can  imagine  a  mind  like  yours 
deriving  great  satisfaction  from  any  measure  of  that  kind.  But  while 
I  continue  to  be  called  upon  to  exist.  Sir,  you  must  strike  at  him  through 
me.  Aye  !  "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his  head  at  Martin  with 
indignant  jocularity  ;  "  and  in  such  a  cause  you  will  find  me,  my  young 
sir,  an  Ugly  Customer  !  " 

Still  Martin  looked  steadily  and  mildly  at  his  grandfather.  "  Will 
you  give  me  no  answer,"  he  said,  at  length,  "  not  a  word  ? " 

"  You  hear  what  has  been    said,"  replied    the  old   man,  without 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  501 

averting  his  ejes  from  the  face  of  Mr.  Pecksniff :  who  nodded  encou- 
ragingly. 

"  I  have  not  heard  your  voice.  I  have  not  heard  your  spirit,"  returned 
Martin. 

"  Tell  him  again,"  said  the  old  man,  still  gazing  up  in  Mr.  Pecksniff's 
face. 

"  I  only  hear,"  replied  Martin,  strong  in  his  purpose  from  the  first, 
and  stronijer  in  it  as  he  felt  how  Pecksniff  winced  and  shrunk  beneath 
his  contempt  ;  "  I  only  hear  what  you  say  to  me,  grandfather." 

Perhaps  it  was  well  for  Mr.  Pecksniff  that  his  venerable  friend  found 
in  his  (Mr.  Pecksniff's)  features  an  exclusive  and  engrossing  object  of  con- 
templation, for  if  his  eyes  had  gone  astray,  and  he  had  compared  young 
Martin's  bearing  v/ith  that  of  his  zealous  defender,  the  latter  disinterested 
gentleman  would  scarcely  have  shown  to  greater  advantage  than  on  the 
memorable  afternoon  when  he  took  Tom  Pinch's  last  receipt  in  full  of  all 
demands.  One  really  might  have  thought  there  was  some  quality  in 
Mr.  Pecksniff — an  emanation  from  the  brightness  and  purity  within  him 
perhaps — which  set  off  and  adorned  his  foes:  they  looked  so  gallant  and 
60  manly  beside  him. 

"Xot  a  word  ?  "  said  Martin,  for  the  second  time. 

"  I  remember  that  I  have  a  word  to  say,  Pecksniff,"  observed  the  old 
man.  "  But  a  word.  You  spoke  of  being  indebted  to  the  charitable 
help  of  some  stranger  for  the  means  of  returning  to  England.  Who 
is  he  ?     And  what  help,  in  money,  did  he  render  you  1 " 

Although  he  asked  this  question  of  Martin,  he  did  not  look  towards 
him,  but  kept  his  eyes  on  Mr.  Pecksniff  as  before.  It  appeared  to  have 
become  a  habit  with  him,  both  in  a  literal  and  figurative  sense,  to  look 
to  Mr.  Pecksniff  alone. 

Martin  took  out  his  pencil,  tore  a  leaf  from  his  pocket-book,  and 
hastily  wrote  down  the  particulars  of  his  debt  to  Mr.  Bevan.  The  old 
man  stretched  out  his  hand  for  the  paper,  and  took  it ;  but  his  eyes  did 
not  wander  from  Mr.  Pecksniff's  face. 

"It  would  be  a  poor  pride  and  a  false  humility,"  said  Martin,  in  a 
low  voice,  "  to  say,  I  do  not  wish  that  to  be  paid,  or  that  I  have  any 
present  hope  of  being  able  to  pay  it.  But  I  never  felt  my  poverty  so 
deeply  as  1  feel  it  now." 

"  Read  it  to  me,  Pecksniff,"  said  the  old  man. 

Mr.  Pecksniff,  after  approaching  the  perusal  of  the  paper  as  if  it  were 
a  manuscript  confession  of  a  murder,  complied. 

"I  think,  Pecksniff,"  said  old  Martin,  "I  could  wish  that  to  be 
discharged.  I  should  not  like  the  lender,  who  was  abroad  ;  who  had 
no  opportunity  of  making  inquiry,  and  who  did  (as  he  thought)  a  kind 
action  j  to  suffer." 

"  An  honourable  sentiment,  my  dear  Sir.  Your  own  entirely.  But  a 
dangerous  precedent,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  permit  me  to  suggest." 

"  It  shall  not  be  a  precedent,"  returned  the  old  man.  "  It  is  the  only 
recognition  of  him.  But  we  will  talk  of  it  again.  You  shall  advise 
me.     There  is  nothino:  else  1 " 

"  Nothing  else,"    said   Mr.   Pecksniff,  buoyantly,   "  but  for  you  to 


502  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

recover  this  intrusion  :  this  cowardly  and  indefensible  outrage  on  your 
feelings  :  with  all  possible  dispatch  ;  and  smile  again." 

"  You  have  nothing  more  to  say  ? "  enquired  the  old  man,  laying  his 
hand  with  unusual  earnestness  on  Mr.  Pecksniff 's  sleeve. 

Mr.  Pecksniff  would  not  say  what  rose  to  his  lips.  For  reproaches,  he 
observed,  were  useless. 

"  You  have  nothing  at  all  to  urge  1  You  are  sure  of  that  1  If  you 
have  ;  no  matter  what  it  is  ;  speak  freely.  I  will  oppose  nothing  that 
you  ask  of  me,"  said  the  old  man. 

The  tears  rose  in  such  abundance  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  eyes  at  this  proof 
of  unlimited  confidence  on  the  part  of  his  friend,  that  he  was  fain  to 
clasp  the  bridge  of  his  nose  convulsively  before  he  could  at  all  compose 
himself.  When  he  had  the  power  of  utterance  again,  he  said,  with  great 
emotion,  that  he  hoped  he  should  live  to  deserve  this  ;  and  added,  that 
he  had  no  other  observation  whatever  to  make. 

For  a  few  moments  the  old  man  sat  looking  at  him,  with  that  blank 
and  motionless  expression  which  is  not  uncommon  in  the  faces  of  those 
whose  faculties  are  on  the  wane,  in  age.  But  he  rose  up  firmly  too,  and 
walked  towards  the  door,  from  which  Mark  withdrew  to  make  way 
for  him. 

The  obsequious  Mr.  Pecksniff  proffered  his  arm.  The  old  man  took 
it.  Turning  at  the  door,  he  said  to  Martin,  waving  him  off  with  his  hand, 

"  You  have  heard  him.     Go  away.     It  is  all  over.      Gro  ! " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  murmured  certain  cheering  expressions  of  sympathy  and 
encouragement  as  they  retired  ;  and  Martin,  awakening  from  the  stupor 
into  which  the  closing  portion  of  this  scene  had  plunged  him,  to  the 
opportunity  afforded  by  their  departure,  caught  the  innocent  cause  of  all 
in  his  embrace,  and  pressed  her  to  his  heart. 

"  Dear  girl !"  said  Martin.  "  He  has  not  changed  you.  Why,  what 
an  impotent  and  harmless  knave  the  fellow  is  !" 

"  You  have  restrained  yourself  so  nobly  !  You  have  borne  so  much  !" 

"  Restrained  myself !"  cried  Martin,  cheerfully.  "  You  were  by,  and 
were  unchanged,  I  knew.  What  more  advantage  did  I  want  ?  The  sight  of 
me  was  such  bitterness  to  the  dog,  that  I  had  my  triumph  in  his  being 
forced  to  endure  it.  But  tell  me,  love — for  the  few  hasty  words  we  can 
exchange  now,  are  precious — what  is  this,  which  has  been  rumoured  to 
me  1     Is  it  true  that  you  are  persecuted  by  this  knave's  addresses." 

"  I  was,  dear  Martin,  and  to  some  extent  am  now ;  but  my  chief 
source  of  unhappiness  has  been  anxiety  for  you.  Why  did  you  leave 
us  in  such  terrible  suspense  ?' 

"  Sickness,  distance  ;  the  dread  of  hinting  at  our  real  condition,  the 
impossibility  of  concealing  it  except  in  perfect  silence  ;  the  knowledge 
that  the  truth  would  have  pained  you  infinitely  more  than  uncertainty 
and  doubt,"  said  Martin,  hurriedly  ;  as  indeed  everything  else  was 
done  and  said,  in  those  few  hurried  moments,  "were  the  causes 
of  my  writing  only  once.  But  Pecksniff?  You  needn't  fear  to  tell 
me  the  whole  tale  :  for  you  saw  me  with  him  face  to  face,  hearing  him 
speak,  and  not  taking  him  by  the  throat  :  what  is  the  history  of  hi» 
pursuit  of  you  ?     Is  it  known  to  my  grandfather  1" 


■P. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  503 

"Yes." 

"  And  lie  assists  him  in  it  ?" 

"  No,"  she  answered  eagerly. 

"  Thank  Heaven  !"  cried  Martin,  "  that  it  leaves  his  mind  unclouded 
In  that  one  respect  !" 

"  I  do  not  think,"  said  Marj,  "it  was  known  to  him  at  first.  When  this 
man  had  sufficiently  prepared  his  mind,  he  revealed  it  to  him  by  degrees. 
I  think  so,  but  I  only  know  it,  from  my  own  impression :  not  from 
anything  they  told  me.     Then  he  spoke  to  me  alone." 

"  My  grandfather  did  V  said  Martin. 

"  Yes — spoke  to  me  alone,  and  told  me — " 

"  What  the  hound  had  said,"  cried  Martin.      "  Don't  repeat  it." 

"  And  said  I  knew  well  what  qualities  he  possessed  ;  that  he  was 
moderately  rich;  in  good  repute  ;  and  high  in  his  favour  and  confidence. 
But  seeing  me  very  much  distressed,  he  said  that  he  would  not  controul 
or  force  my  inclinations,  but  would  content  himself  with  telling  me  the 
act.  He  would  not  pain  me  by  dwelling  on  it,  or  reverting  to  it  :  nor 
has  he  ever  done  so  since,  but  has  truly  kept  his  word." 

"  The  man  himself  ? — "  asked  Martin. 

"  He  has  had  few  opportunities  of  pursuing  his  suit.  I  have  never 
walked  out  alone,  or  remained  alone  an  instant  in  his  presence.  Dear 
Martin,  I  must  tell  you,"  she  continued,  "  that  the  kindness  of  your 
grandfather  to  me,  remains  unchanged.  I  am  his  companion  still.  An 
indescribable  tenderness  and  compassion  seem  to  have  mingled  them- 
selves with  his  old  regard  ;  and  if  I  were  his  only  child,  I  could  not  have 
a  gentler  father.  What  former  fancy  or  old  habit  survives  in  this,  when 
his  heart  has  turned  so  cold  to  you,  is  a  mystery  I  cannot  penetrate  ;  but 
it  has  been,  and  it  is,  a  happiness  to  me,  that  I  remained  true  to  him  ; 
that  if  he  should  wake  from  his  delusion,  even  at  the  point  of  death,  I 
am  here,  love,  to  recall  you  to  his  thoughts." 

Martin  looked  with  admiration  on  her  glowing  face,  and  pressed  his 
lips  to  hers. 

"  I  have  sometimes  heard,  and  read,"  she  said,  "  that  those  whose 
powers  had  been  enfeebled  long  ago,  and  whose  lives  had  faded,  as  it 
were,  into  a  dream,  have  been  known  to  rouse  themselves  before  death, 
and  inquire  for  familiar  faces  once  very  dear  to  them  ;  but  forgotten, 
unrecognised,  hated  even,  in  the  meantime.  Think,  if  with  his  old 
impressions  of  this  man,  he  should  suddenly  resume  his  former  self, 
and  find  in  him  his  only  friend  !" 

"  I  would  not  urge  you  to  abandon  him,  dearest,"  said  Martin, 
"  though  I  could  count  the  years  we  are  to  wear  out  asunder.  But  the 
influence  this  fellow  exercises  over  him,  has  steadily  increased,  I  fear.'* 

She  could  not  help  admitting  that.  Steadily,  imperceptibly,  and 
surely,  until  now  it  was  paramount  and  supreme.  She  herself  had 
none ;  and  yet  he  treated  her  with  more  affection  than  at  any 
previous  time.  Martin  thought  the  inconsistency  a  part  of  his  weakness 
and  decay. 

"  Does  the  influence  extend  to  fear  ?"  said  Martin.  "  Is  he  timid  of 
asserting  his  own  opinion  in  the  presence  of  this  infatuation  ?  I  fancied 
so  just  now." 


504  LLFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  I  have  tliouglit  so,  often.  Often  when  we  are  sitting  alone,  almost 
as  we  used  to  do,  and  I  have  been  reading  a  favourite  book  to  him  or 
he  has  been  talking  quite  cheerfully,  I  have  observed  that  the  entrance 
of  Mr.  Pecksniff  has  changed  his  whole  demeanour.  He  has  broken  off 
immediately,  and  become  what  you  have  seen  to-day.  When  we  first 
came  here  he  had  his  impetuous  outbreaks,  in  which  it  was  not  easy 
for  Mr.  Pecksniff  with  his  utmost  plausibility  to  appease  him.  But 
these  have  long  since  dwindled  away.  He  defers  to  him  in  everything, 
and  has  no  opinion  upon  any  question,  but  that  which  is  forced  upon 
him  by  this  treacherous  man." 

Such  was  the  account ;  rapidly  furnished  in  whispers,  and  inter- 
rupted, brief  as  it  was,  by  many  false  alarms  of  Mr.  Pecksniff 's  return  ; 
which  Martin  received  of  his  grandfather's  decline,  and  of  that  good 
gentleman's  ascendancy.  He  heard  of  Tom  Pinch  too,  and  Jonas  too, 
with  not  a  little  about  himself  into  the  bargain  ;  for  though  lovers  are 
remarkable  for  leaving  a  great  deal  unsaid  on.  all  occasions,  and  very 
properly  desiring  to  come  back  and  say  it,  they  are  remarkable  also  for 
a  wonderful  power  of  condensation  ;  and  can,  in  one  way  or  other,  give 
utterance  to  more  language — eloquent  language — in  any  given  short 
space  of  time,  than  all  the  six  hundred  and  fifty-eight  members  in  the 
Commons  House  of  Parliament  of  the  United  Kingdom  of  Great  Britain 
and  Ireland  ;  who  are  strong  lovers,  no  doubt,  but  of  their  country  only, 
which  makes  all  the  difference  ;  for  in  a  passion  of  that  kind  (which  is 
not  always  returned),  it  is  the  custom  to  use  as  many  words  as  possible, 
and  express  nothing  whatever. 

A  caution  from  Mr.  Tapley  ;  a  hasty  interchange  of  farewells,  and  of 
something  else  which  the  proverb  says  must  not  be  told  of  afterwards  ; 
a  white  hand  held  out  to  Mr.  Tapley  himself,  which  he  kissed  with  the 
devotion  of  a  knight-errant ;  more  farewells,  more  something  else's  ;  a 
parting  word  from  Martin  that  he  would  write  from  London  and  would 
do  great  things  there  yet  (Heaven  knows  what,  but  he  quite  believed  it)  ; 
and  Mark  and  he  stood  on  the  outside  of  the  Pecksniflian  halls. 

"  A  short  interview  after  such  an  absence  1 "  said  Martin,  sorrowfully. 
"  But  we  are  well  out  of  the  house.  We  might  have  placed  ourselves  in 
a  false  position  by  remaining  there,  even  so  long,  Mark." 

"  I  don't  know  about  ourselves.  Sir,"  he  returned  ;  "  but  somebody 
else  would  have  got  into  a  false  position,  if  he  had  happened  to  come 
back  again,  while  we  was  there.  I  had  the  door  all  ready.  Sir.  If  Pecksniff 
had  showed  his  head,  or  had  only  so  much  as  listened  behind  it,  I  should 
have  caught  him  like  a  walnut.  He 's  the  sort  of  man,"  added  Mr.  Tapley, 
musing,  "  as  would  squeeze  soft,  I  know." 

A  person  who  was  evidently  going  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house,  passed 
them  at  this  moment.  He  raised  his  eyes  at  the  mention  of  the  archi- 
tect's name  ;  and  when  he  had  gone  on  a  few  yards,  stopped,  and  gazed 
at  them.  Mr.  Tapley,  also,  looked  over  his  shoulder,  and  so  did  Martin; 
for  the  stranger,  as  he  passed,  had  looked  very  sharply  at  them. 

"Who  may  that  be,  I  wonder!  "  said  Martin.  "The  face  seems  familiar 
to  me,  but  I  don't  know  the  man." 

"  He  seems  to  have  a  amiable  desire  that  his  face  should  be  tolerable 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  505 

familiar  to  us,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  "  for  lie  's  a  staring  pretty  hard.  He'd 
better  not  waste  liis  beauty,  for  he  aint  got  much  to  spare," 

Coming  in  sight  of  the  Dragon,  they  saw  a  travelling  carriage  at 
the  door. 

"  And  a  Salisbury  carriage,  eh  !  "  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  That  "s  what 
he  came  in,  depend  upon  it.  What 's  in  the  wind  now  '?  A  new  pupil, 
I  shouldn't  wonder.  P'raps  it 's  a  order  for  another  grammar-school, 
of  the  same  pattern  as  the  last." 

Before  they  could  enter  at  the  door,  Mrs.  Lupin  came  running  out ; 
and  beckoning  them  to  the  carriage  showed  them  a  portmanteau  with 
the  name  of  Chuzzlewit  upon  it. 

"  Miss  Pecksniff's  husband  that  was,"  said  the  good  woman  to  Martin. 
"  I  didn't  know  what  terms  you  might  be  on,  and  was  quite  in  a  worry 
till  you  came  back." 

"  He  and  I  have  never  interchanged  a  word  yet,"  observed  Martin  ; 
"  and  as  I  have  no  wish  to  be  better  or  worse  acquainted  with  him,  I  will 
not  put  myself  in  his  way.  We  passed  him  on  the  road,  I  have  no 
doubt.  I  am  glad  he  timed  his  coming,  as  he  did.  Upon  my  word  ! 
Miss  Pecksniff's  husband  travels  gaily  !  " 

"A  very  fine-looking  gentleman  with  him — in  the  best  room  now," 
whispered  Mrs.  Lupin,  glancing  up  at  the  window  as  they  went  into  the 
house.  "  He  has  ordered  everything  that  can  be  got  for  dinner ;  and 
has  the  glossiest  mustaches  and  whiskers  that  ever  you  saw." 

"  Has  he  1  "  cried  Martin,  "  why  then  we  '11  endeavour  to  avoid  him 
too,  in  the  hope  that  our  self-denial  may  be  strong  enough  for  the  sacri- 
fice. It  is  only  for  a  few  hours,"  said  Martin,  dropping  wearily  into  a 
chair  behind  the  little  screen  in  the  bar.  "  Our  visit  has  met  with  no 
success,  my  dear  Mrs.  Lupin,  and  I  must  go  to  London." 

'■  Dear,  dear  !  "  cried  the  hostess. 

"  Yes.  One  foul  wind  no  more  makes  a  winter,  than  one  swallow 
makes  a  summer. — I  '11  try  it  again.  Tom  Pinch  has  succeeded.  With  his 
advice  to  guide  me,  I  may  do  the  same,  I  took  Tom  under  my  protection 
once,  God  save  the  mark  !  "  said  Martin,  with  a  melancholy  smile  ;  "and 
promised  I  would  make  his  fortune.  Perhaps  Tom  will  take  me  under 
/lis  protection  now,  and  teach  me  how  to  earn  my  bread." 


CHAPTER  XLIY, 

FURTHER     CONTINUATION    OF    THE    ENTERPRISE    OF    MR.    JONAS    AND     HIS 

FRIEND. 

It  was  a  special  quality,  among  the  many  admirable  qualities  possessed 
by  Mr.  Pecksniff,  that  the  more  he  was  found  out,  the  more  hypocrisy 
he  practised.  Let  him  be  discomfited  in  one  quarter,  and  he  refreshed 
and  recompensed  himself  by  carrying  the  war  into  another.  If  his 
workings  and  windings  were  detected  by  A,  so  much  the  greater  reason 
was  there  for  practising  without  loss  of  time  on  B,  if  it  were  only  to 
keep  his  hand  in.     He  had  never  been  such  a  saintly  and  improving 


506  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

spectacle  to  all  about  him,  as  after  his  detection  by  Thomas  Pinch.  He 
had  scarcely  ever  been  at  once  so  tender  in  his  humanity,  and  so  digni- 
fied and  exalted  in  his  virtue,  as  when  young  Martin's  scorn  was  fresh 
and  hot  upon  him. 

Having  this  large  stock  of  superfluous  sentiment  and  morality  on 
hand  which  must  positively  be  cleared  off  at  any  sacrifice,  Mr.  Pecksniff 
no  sooner  heard  his  son-in-law  announced,  than  he  regarded  him  as  a 
kind  of  wholesale  or  general  order,  to  be  immediately  executed.  De- 
scending, therefore,  swiftly  to  the  parlour,  and  clasping  the  young  man 
in  his  arms,  he  exclaimed,  with  looks  and  gestures  that  denoted  the 
perturbation  of  his  spirit  : 

"  Jonas  !     My  child — she  is  well  ?     There  is  nothing  the  matter  ?  " 

"  What  you  're  at  it  again,  are  you  ?"  replied  his  son-in-law.  "  Even 
with  me  ?     Get  away  with  you,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Tell  me  she  is  well,  then,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Tell  me  she  is- 
well,  my  Boy  1 "        . 

"  She's  well  enough,"  retorted  Jonas,  disengaging  himself.  "There's 
nothing  the  matter  with  Aer." 

"  There  is  nothing  the  matter  with  her  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  sitting 
down  in  the  nearest  chair,  and  rubbing  up  his  hair.  "  Fie  upon  my 
weakness  !  I  cannot  help  it  Jonas.  Thank  you.  I  am  better  now. 
How  is  my  other  child  ;  my  eldest ;  my  Cherry werrychigo  1  "  said 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  inventing  a  playful  little  name  for  her,  in  the  restored 
lightness  of  his  heart. 

"  She 's  much  about  the  same  as  usual,"  returned  Mr.  Jonas.  "  She 
sticks  pretty  close  to  the  vinegar-bottle.  You  know  she 's  got  a 
sweetheart,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  I  have  heard  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  from  head-quarters  ;  from 
my  child  herself,  I  will  not  deny  that  it  moved  me  to  contemplate  the 
loss  of  my  remaining  daughter,  Jonas — I  am  afraid  we  parents  are  selfish  ; 
I  am  afraid  we  are — but  it  has  ever  been  the  study  of  my  life  to  qualify 
them  for  the  domestic  hearth ;  and  it  is  a  sphere  which  Cherry  will  adorn.'^ 

"  She  need  adorn  some  sphere  or  other,"  observed  his  son-in-law,  with 
charming  frankness.     "  For  she  aint  very  ornamental  in  general." 

"  My  girls  are  now  provided  for,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  They  are 
now  happily  provided  for  ;  and  I  have  not  laboured  in  vain  ! " 

This  is  exactly  what  Mr.  Pecksniff  would  have  said,  if  one  of  his 
daughters  had  drawn  a  prize  of  thirty  thousand  pounds  in  the  lottery, 
or  the  other  had  picked  up  a  valuable  purse  in  the  street,  which  nobody 
appeared  to  claim.  In  either  of  these  cases,  he  would  have  invoked  a 
patriarchal  blessing  on  the  fortunate  head,  with  great  solemnity,  and 
would  have  taken  immense  credit  to  himself,  as  having  meant  it  from 
the  infant's  cradle. 

"  Suppose  we  talk  about  something  else,  now,"  observed  Jonas,, 
drily  ;  "just  for  a  change.     Are  you  quite  agreeable?" 

"  Quite,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Ah,  you  wag,  you  naughty  wag  t 
You  laugh  at  poor  old  fond  papa.  Well  !  He  deserves  it.  And  he 
don't  mind  it  either,  for  his  feelings  are  their  own  reward.  You  have 
come  to  stay  with  me,  Jonas  1 " 


MAETIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  507 

"  No.     I  Ve  got  a  friend  with  me,"  said  Jonas. 

"  Bring  your  friend  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  in  a  gush  of  hospitality^ 
*'  Bring  any  number  of  your  friends  ! " 

"  This  aint  the  sort  of  man  to  be  brought/'  said  Jonas,  contemptu- 
ously. I  think  I  see  myself  '  bringing  '  him  to  your  house,  for  a  treat  t 
Thank'ee  all  the  same  ;  but  he 's  a  little  too  near  the  top  of  the  tree  for 
that,  Pecksniff." 

The  good  man  pricked  up  his  ears  ;  his  interest  was  awakened.  A 
position  near  the  top  of  the  tree  was  greatness,  virtue,  goodness,  sense, 
genius  ;  or,  it  should  rather  be  said,  a  dispensation  from  all,  and  in  itself 
something  immeasurably  better  than  all ;  with  Mr.  Pecksniff.  A  man 
who  was  able  to  look  down  upon  Mr.  Pecksniff  could  not  be  looked  up 
at,  by  that  gentleman,  with  too  great  an  amount  of  deference,  or  from  a 
position  of  too  much  humility.     So  it  always  is  with  great  spirits. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  you  may  do,  if  you  like,"  said  Jonas  :  "you  may 
come  and  dine  with  us  at  the  Dragon.  We  were  forced  to  come  down, 
to  Salisbury  last  night,  on  some  business,  and  I  got  him  to  bring  me 
over  here  this  morning,  in  his  carriage  ;  at  least,  not  his  own  carriage, 
for  we  had  a  break-down  in  the  night,  but  one  we  hired  instead  ;  it 's  all 
the  same.  Mind  what  your  're  about,  you  know.  He 's  not  used  to  all 
sorts  ;  he  only  mixes  with  the  best ! " 

"  Some  young  nobleman  who  has  been  borrowing  money  of  you  at 
good  interest,  eh  1 "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his  forefinger  facetiously- 
"  I  shall  be  delighted  to  know  the  gay  sprig." 

"  Borrowing  ! "  echoed  Jonas.  "  Borrowing  !  When  you  're  a  twentieth 
part  as  rich  as  he  is,  you  may  shut  up  shop  !  We  should  be  pretty  well 
off,  if  we  could  buy  his  furniture,  and  plate,  and  pictures,  by  clubbing 
together.  A  likely  man  to  borrow  :  Mr.  Montague  !  Why,  since  I 
was  lucky  enough  (come  !  and  I'll  say,  sharp  enough,  too)  to  get  a  share 
in  the  Insurance  Office  that  he 's  President  of,  I  've  made — never 
mind  what  I  've'made,"  said  Jonas,  seeming  to  recover  all  at  once  his  usual 
caution.  "  You  know  me  pretty  well,  and  I  don't  blab  about  such  things. 
But,  Ecod,  I  've  made  a  trifle." 

"  Really,  my  dear  Jonas,"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  much  warmth, 
"  a  gentleman  like  this  should  receive  some  attention.  Would  he  like 
to  see  the  church  ?  Or  if  he  has  a  taste  for  the  fine  arts — which  I  have 
no  doubt  he  has,  from  the  description  you  give  of  his  circumstances — 
I  can  send  him  down  a  few  portfolios.  Salisbury  Cathedral,  my  dear 
Jonas,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff;  the  mention  of  the  portfolios,  and  his 
anxiety  to  display  himself  to  advantage,  suggesting  his  usual  phrase- 
ology in  that  regard  ;  "  is  an  edifice  replete  with  venerable  associations, 
and  strikingly  suggestive  of  the  loftiest  emotions.  It  is  here  we  con- 
template the  work  of  bygone  ages.  It  is  here  we  listen  to  the  swelling 
organ,  as  we  stroll  through  the  reverberating  aisles.  We  have  drawings 
of  this  celebrated  structure  from  the  North,  from  the  South,  from  the 
East,  from  the  West,  from  the  South-East,  from  the  Nor'-West " 

During  this  digression,  and  indeed  during  the  whole  dialogue, 
Jonas  had  been  rocking  on  his  chair,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and 
his  head  thrown  cunningly  on  one  side.     He  looked  at  Mr.  Pecksniff 


508  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

now  with  such  shrewd  meaning  twinkling  in  his  eyes,  that  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff stopped,  and  asked  him  what  he  was  going  to  say. 

"  Ecod  !  "  he  answered.  "  Pecksniff,  if  I  knew  how  you  meant  to  leave 
your  money,  I  could  put  you  in  the  way  of  doubling  it,  in  no  time.  It 
wouldn't  be  bad  to  keep  a  chance  like  this  snug  in  the  family.  But 
you  're  such  a  deep  one  !  " 

"  Jonas  ! "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  much  affected,  "  I  am  not  a  diploma- 
tical  character  :  my  heart  is  in  my  hand.  By  far  the  greater  part  of  the 
inconsiderable  savings  I  have  accumulated  in  the  course  of — I  hope — a 
not  dishonourable  or  useless  career,  is  already  given,  devised,  and 
bequeathed  (correct  me,  my  dear  Jonas,  if  I  am  technically  wrong), 
with  expressions  of  confidence,  which  I  will  not  repeat ;  and  in  securities 
which  it  is  unnecessary  to  mention  ;  to  a  person,  whom  I  cannot,  whom 
I  will  not,  whom  I  need  not,  name."  Here  he  gave  the  hand  of  his  son- 
in-law  a  fervent  squeeze,  as  if  he  would  have  added,  "  God  bless  you  ;  be 
very  careful  of  it  when  you  get  it  !" 

Mr.  Jonas  only  shook  his  head  and  laughed,  and,  seeming  to  think 
better  of  what  he  had  had  in  his  mind,  said,  "  No.  Pie  would  keep  his 
own  counsel."  But  as  he  observed  that  he  would  take  a  walk,  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff insisted  on  accompanying  him,  remarking  that  he  could  leave  a  card 
for  Mr.  Montague,  as  they  went  along,  by  way  of  gentleman-usher  to 
himself  at  dinner-time.     Which  he  did. 

In  the  course  of  their  walk,  Mr.  Jonas  affected  to  maintain  that  close 
reserv^e  which  had  operated  as  a  timely  check  upon  him  during  the  fore- 
going dialogue.  And  as  he  made  no  attempt  to  conciliate  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff, but,  on  the  contrary,  was  more  boorish  and  rude  to  him  than  usual, 
that  gentleman,  so  far  from  suspecting  his  real  design,  laid  himself  out 
to  be  attacked  with  advantage.  For  it  is  in  the  nature  of  a  knave 
to  think  the  tools  with  which  he  works  indispensable  to  knavery ; 
and  knowing  what  he  would  do  himself  in  such  a  case,  Mr.  Pecksniff 
argued,  "  if  this  young  man  wanted  anything  of  me  for  his  own  ends, 
he  would  be  polite  and  deferential." 

The  more  Jonas  repelled  him  in  his  hints  and  inquiries,  the  more 
solicitous,  therefore,  Mr.  Pecksniff  became  to  be  initiated  into  the  golden 
mysteries  at  which  he  had  obscurely  glanced.  Why  should  there  be  cold 
and  worldly  secrets,  he  observed,  between  relations  ?  What  was  life 
without  confidence  1  If  the  chosen  husband  of  his  daughter,  the  man 
to  whom  he  had  delivered  her  with  so  much  pride  and  hope,  such  bound- 
ing and  such  beaming  joy  :  if  he  were  not  a  green  spot  in  the  barren 
waste  of  life,  where  was  that  Oasis  to  be  found  1 

Little  did  Mr.  Pecksniff  think  on  what  a  very  green  spot  he  planted 
one  foot  at  that  moment !  Little  did  he  foresee  when  he  said,  "  All  is 
but  dust !  "  how  very  shortly  he  would  come  down  with  his  own  ! 

Inch  by  inch,  in  his  grudging  and  ill-conditioned  way :  sustained  to 
the  life,  for  the  hope  of  making  Mr.  Pecksniff  suffer  in  that  tender 
place,  the  pocket,  where  Jonas  smarted  so  terribly  himself,  gave  him  an 
additional  and  malicious  interest  in  the  wiles  he  was  set  on  to  practise  : 
inch  by  inch,  and  bit  by  bit,  Jonas  rather  allowed  the  dazzling 
prospects  of  the  Anglo-Bengalee  establishment   to  escape  him,    than 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  509 

paraded  them  before  liis  greedy  listener.  And  in  the  same  niggardly 
spirit,  he  left  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  infer,  if  he  chose  (which  he  did  choose^ 
of  course),  that  a  consciousness  of  not  having  any  great  natural  gifts  of 
speech  and  manner  himself,  rendered  him  desirous  to  have  the  credit 
of  introducing  to  Mr.  Montague  some  one  who  was  well  endowed  in. 
those  respects,  and  so  atone  for  his  own  deficiencies.  Otherwise,  he 
muttered  discontentedly,  he  would  have  seen  his  beloved  father-in- 
law  "  far  enough  off,  "  before  he  would  have  taken  him  into  his  con- 
fidence. 

Primed  in  this  artful  manner,  Mr.  Pecksniff  presented  himself  at 
dinner-time  in  such  a  state  of  suavity,  benevolence,  cheerfulness,  polite- 
ness, and  cordiality,  as  even  he  had  perhaps  never  attained  before. 
The  frankness  of  the  country  gentleman,  the  refinement  of  the  artist, 
the  good-humoured  allowance  of  the  man  of  the  world  ;  philanthropy, 
forbearance,  piety,  toleration,  all  blended  together  in  a  flexible  adap- 
tability to  anything  and  everything;  were  expressed  in  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
as  he  shook  hands  with  the  great  speculator  and  capitalist. 

"  Welcome,  respected  Sir, "  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  to  our  humble 
village  !  We  are  a  simple  people  ;  primitive  clods,  Mr.  Montague  ;  but 
we  can  appreciate  the  honour  of  your  visit,  as  my  dear  son-in-law  can 
testify.  It  is  very  strange,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  pressing  his  hand  almost 
reverentially,  "  but  I  seem  to  know  you.  That  towering  forehead,  my 
dear  Jonas,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff  aside,  "  and  those  clustering  masses  of 
rich  hair — I  must  have  seen  you,  my  dear  sir,  in  the  sparkling  throng." 

Nothing  was  more  probable,  they  all  agreed. 

"  I  could  have  wished,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  to  have  had  the  honour 
of  introducing  you  to  an  elderly  inmate  of  our  house":  to  the  uncle  of 
our  friend.  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  sir,  would  have  been  proud  indeed  to  have 
taken  you  by  the  hand." 

"  Is  the  gentleman  here  now  ?  "  asked  Montague,  turning  deeply  red. 

"He  is,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  You  said  nothing  about  that,  Chuzzlewit." 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you  'd  care  to  hear  of  it,"  returned  Jonas.  "  Yom 
wouldn't  care  to  know  him,  I  can  promise  you." 

"  Jonas  1  my  dear  Jonas !  "  remonstrated  Mr.  Pecksniff.    "  Really  !"  ' 

"  Oh  !  it 's  all  very  well  for  you  to  speak  up  for  him,"  said  Jonas. 
"  You  have  nailed  him.     You  '11  get  a  fortune  by  him." 

"  Oho!  Is  the  wind  in  that  quarter!"  cried  Montague.  "Ha,  ha,  ha!" 
and  here  they  all  laughed — especially  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  No,  no  ! "  said  that  gentleman,  clapping  his  son-in-law  playfully 
upon  the  shoulder.  "  You  must  not  believe  all  that  my  young  relative 
says,  Mr.  Montague.  You  may  believe  him  in  official  business,  and 
trust  him  in  official  business,  but  you  must  not  attach  importance  to  his 
flights  of  fancy." 

"  Upon  my  life,  Mr.  Pecksniff,"  cried  Montague,  "  I  attach  the 
greatest  importance  to  that  last  observation  of  his.  I  trust  and  hope  it 's 
true.  Money  cannot  be  turned  and  turned  again  quickly  enough  in  the 
ordinary  course,  Mr.  Pecksniff.  There  is  nothing  like  building  our 
fortunes  on  the  weaknesses  of  mankind." 


510  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"Oh  fie  !  Oil  fie  !  Oh  fie,  for  shame!"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.  But  they 
all  laughed  again — especially  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  I  give  you  my  honour  that  we  do  it,"  said  Montague. 
"  Oh  fie,  fie  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff.     "  You  are  very  pleasant.     That 
I  am  sure  you  don't !    That  I  am  sure  you  don't !    How  can  you, 
jou  know  % " 

Again  they  all  laughed  in  concert  j  and  again  Mr.  Pecksniff  laughed 
-especially. 

This  was  very  agreeable  indeed.  It  was  confidential,  easy,  straight- 
forward :  and  still  left  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  the  position  of  being  in  a  gentle 
way  the  Mentor  of  the  party.  The  greatest  achievements  in  the  article 
of  cookery  that  the  Dragon  had  ever  performed,  were  set  before  them  ; 
the  oldest  and  best  wines  in  the  Dragon's  cellar  saw  the  light  on  that 
occasion;  a  thousand  bubbles,  indicative  of  the  wealth  and  station  of 
Mr.  Montague  in  the  depths  of  his  pursuits,  were  constantly  rising  to 
the  surface  of  the  conversation  ;  and  they  were  as  frank  and  merry  as 
three  honest  men  could  be.  Mr.  Pecksniff  thought  it  a  pity ;  he  said  so  ; 
that  Mr.  Montague  should  think  lightly  of  mankind  and  their  weak- 
nesses. He  was  anxious  upon  this  subject ;  his  mind  ran  upon  it ; 
in  one  way  or  other  he  was  constantly  coming  back  to  it ;  he  must  make 
a  convert  of  him,  he  said.  And  as  often  as  Mr.  Montague  repeated  his 
sentiment  about  building  fortunes  on  the  weaknesses  of  mankind,  and 
added  frankly,  "  We  do  it  ! "  just  as  often  Mr.  Pecksniff  repeated  "  Oh 
"fie !  Oh  fie,  for  shame !  I  am  sure  you  don't.  How  can  you,  you  know  1" 
laying  a  greater  stress  each  time  on  those  last  words. 

The  frequent  repetition  of  this  playful  inquiry  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  led  at  last  to  playful  answers  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Montague  ; 
but  after  some  little  sharp-shooting  on  both  sides,  Mr.  Pecksniff  became 
grave,  almost  to  tears  ;  observing  that  if  Mr.  Montague  would  give 
him  leave,  he  would  drink  the  health  of  his  young  kinsman,  Mr. 
Jonas :  congratulating  him  upon  the  valuable  and  distinguished  friendship 
he  had  formed,  but  envying  him,  he  would  confess,  his  usefulness  to  his 
fellow-creatures.  For  if  he  understood  the  objects  of  that  Institution 
"with  which  he  was  newly  and  advantageously  connected — knowing  them 
but  imperfectly — they  were  calculated  to  do  Good  ;  and  for  his  (Mr. 
Pecksniff's)  part,  if  he  could  in  any  way  promote  them,  he  thought  he 
would  be  able  to  lay  his  head  upon  his  pillow  every  night,  with  an 
absolute  certainty  of  going  to  sleep  at  once. 

The  transition  from  this  accidental  remark  (for  it  was  quite  accidental, 
and  had  fallen  from  Mr.  Pecksniff  in  the  openness  of  his  soul),  to  the 
discussion  of  the  subject  as  a  matter  of  business,  was  easy.  Books, 
papers,  statements,  tables,  calculations  of  various  kinds,  were  soon  spread 
out  before  them  ;  and  as  they  were  all  framed  with  one  object,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  they  should  all  have  tended  to  one  end.  But  still,  when- 
ever Montague  enlarged  upon  the  profits  of  the  office,  and  said  that  as 
long  as  there  were  gulls  upon  the  wing  it  must  succeed,  Mr.  Pecksniff 
mildly  said  "  Oh  fie  !  " — and  might  indeed  have  remonstrated  with  him, 
but  that  he  knew  he  was  joking.  Mr.  Pecksniff  did  know  he  was 
joking  ;  because  he  said  so. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  511 

There  never  had  been  before,  and  there  never  would  be  again,  such 
an  opportunity  for  the  investment  of  a  considerable  sum  (the  rate  of 
advantage  increased  in  proportion  to  the  amount  invested),  as  at  that 
moment.  The  only  time  that  had  at  all  approached  it,  was  the  time 
when  Jonas  had  come  into  the  concern  ;  which  made  him  ill-natured 
now,  and  inclined  him  to  pick  out  a  doubt  in  this  place,  and  a  flaw  in 
that,  and  grumblingly  to  advise  Mr.  Pecksniff  to  think  better  of  it.  The 
sum  which  would  complete  the  proprietorship  in  this  snug  concern,  was 
nearly  equal  to  Mr.  Pecksniff's  M^hole  hoard :  not  counting  Mr.  Chuzzle- 
wit,  that  is  to  say,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  money  in  the  Bank,  the 
possession  of  which  inclined  him  the  more  to  make  a  dash  with  his 
own  private  sprats  for  the  capture  of  such  a  whale  as  Mr.  Montague 
described.  The  returns  began  almost  immediately,  and  were  immense. 
The  end  of  it  was,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  agreed  to  become  the  last  partner 
and  proprietor  in  the  Anglo-Bengalee,  and  made  an  appointment  to 
dine  with  Mr.  Montague,  at  Salisbury,  on  the  next  day  but  one,  then 
and  there  to  complete  the  negotiation. 

It  took  so  long  to  bring  the  subject  to  this  head,  that  it  was  nearly 
midnight  when  they  parted.  When  Mr.  Pecksniff  walked  down  stairs 
to  the  door,  he  found  Mrs.  Lupin  standing  there  :  looking  out. 

"  Ah,  my  good  friend  ! "  he  said  :  "  not  a-bed  yet  !  Contemplating 
the  stars,  Mrs.  Lupin  1 " 

"  It's  a  beautiful  starlight'  night,  sir." 

"A    beautiful   starlight   night,"    said    Mr.    Pecksniff,    looking    up. 

"  Behold  the  planets,  how  they  shine  !  Behold  the those  two  persons 

who  were  here  this  morning,  have  left  your  house,  I  hope,  Mrs.  Lupin  1" 

"  Yes,  sir.     They  are  gone." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Behold  the  wonders 
of  the  firmament,  Mrs.  Lupin  !  How  glorious  is  this  scene  !  When  I 
look  up  at  those  shining  orbs,  I  think  that  each  of  them  is  winking  to 
the  other  to  take  notice  of  the  vanity  of  men's  pursuits.  My  fellow- 
men  !  "  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff,  shaking  his  head  in  pity  ;  "  you  are  much 
mistaken  ;  my  wormy  relatives,  you  are  much  deceived  !  The  stars  are 
perfectly  contented  (I  suppose  so)  in  their  several  spheres.  Why  are  not 
you  '?  Oh  !  do  not  strive  and  struggle  to  enrich  yourselves,  or  to  get  the 
better  of  each  other,  my  deluded  friends,  but  look  up  there,  with  me  !  " 

Mrs.  Lupin  shook  her  head,  and  heaved  a  sigh.  It  was  very  affecting. 

"  Look  up  there,  with  me  ! "  repeated  Mr.  Pecksniff,  stretching  out 
his  hand  ;  "■  with  me,  an  humble  individual  who  is  also  an  Insect  like 
yourselves.  Can  silver,  gold,  or  precious  stones,  sparkle  like  those  con- 
stellations ?  I  think  not.  Then  do  not  thirst  for  silver,  gold,  or 
precious  stones;  but  look  up  there,  with  me  !  " 

With  these  words,  the  good  man  patted  Mrs.  Lupin's  hand  between 
his  own,  as  if  he  would  have  added  "  think  of  this,  my  good  woman  ! " 
und  walked  away  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy  or  rapture,  with  his  hat  under 
his  arm. 

Jonas  sat  in  the  attitude  in  which  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  left  him,  gazing 
moodily  at  his  friend  :  who,  surrounded  by  a  heap  of  documents,  was 
writing  something  on  an  oblong  slip  of  paper. 


512  LIFE    AXD    ADVENTURES    OP 

"  You  mean  to  wait  at  Salisbury  over  the  day  after  to-morrow,  do  you, 
then  1 "  said  Jonas. 

"  You  heard  our  appointment,"  returned  Montague,  without  raising 
his  eyes.     "  In  any  case  I  should  have  waited  to  see  after  the  boy." 

They  appeared  to  have  changed  places  again ;  Montague  being  in 
high  spirits  ;  and  Jonas  gloomy  and  lowering. 

"  You  don't  want  me,  I  suppose  1 "  said  Jonas. 

"  I  want  you  to  put  your  name  here,"  he  returned,  glancing  at  him 
with  a  smile,  "  as  soon  as  I  have  filled  up  the  stamp.  I  may  as  well 
have  your  note  of  hand  for  that  extra  capital.  That 's  all  I  want.  If 
you  wish  to  go  home,  I  can  manage  Mr.  Pecksniff  now,  alone.  There  is 
a  perfect  understanding  between  us." 

Jonas  sat  scowling  at  him  as  he  WTote,  in  silence.  When  he  had 
finished  his  writing,  and  had  dried  it  on  the  blotting-paper  in  his  travel- 
ling-desk ;  he  looked  up,  and  tossed  the  pen  towards  him. 

"  What,  not  a  day's  grace,  not  a  day's  trust,  eh  1 "  said  Jonas,  bitterly. 
"  Not  after  the  pains  I  have  taken  with  to-night's  work "? " 

"  To-night's  work  was  a  part  of  our  bargain,"  replied  Montague  ;  "  and 
so  was  this." 

"  You  drive  a  hard  bargain,"  said  Jonas,  advancing  to  the  table. 
"  You  know  best.     Give  it  here  ! " 

Montague  gave  him  the  paper.  After  pausing  as  if  he  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  to  put  his  name  to  it,  Jonas  dipped  his  pen  hastily 
in  the  nearest  inkstand,  and  began  to  write.  But  he  had  scarcely 
marked  the  paper  when  he  started  back,  in  a  panic. 

"  Why,  what  the  devil 's  this  1 "  he  said.     "  It 's  bloody  !  " 

He  had  dipped  the  pen,  as  another  moment  shewed,  into  red  ink. 
But  he  attached  a  strange  degree  of  importance  to  the  mistake.  He 
asked  how  it  had  come  there,  who  had  brought  it,  why  it  had  been 
brought ;  and  looked  at  Montague,  at  first,  as  if  he  thought  he  had 
put  a  trick  upon  him.  Even  when  he  used  a  different  pen,  and  the 
right  ink,  he  made  some  scratches  on  another  paper  first,  as  half- 
believing  they  would  turn  red  also. 

"  Black  enough,  this  time,"  he  said,  handing  the  note  to  Montague. 
«  Good-bye ! " 

"  Going  now  !     How  do  you  mean  to  get  away  from  here  1  '* 

"  I  shall  cross  early  in  the  morning,  to  the  high  road,  before  you  are 
out  of  bed  ;  and  catch  the  day-coach,  going  up.     Good-bye  !  " 

"  You  are  in  a  hurry  ! " 

"  I  have  Something  to  do,"  said  Jonas.     "  Good-bye  ! " 

His  friend  looked  after  him  as  he  went  out,  in  surprise,  which  gra- 
dually gave  place  to  an  air  of  satisfaction  and  relief. 

"  It  happens  all  the  better.  It  brings  about  what  I  wanted,  without 
any  difficulty.     I  shall  travel  home  alone." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT,  "  513 


CHAPTER   XLY. 


IN    WHICH    TOM    PINCH    AND    HIS    SISTER,    TAKE    A    LITTLE    PLEASURE  j     BUT 
QUITE    IN    A    DOMESTIC    WAY,    AND    WITH    NO    CEREMONY    ABOUT    IT. 

Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister  having  to  part,  for  the  dispatch  of  the 
morning's  business,  immediately  after  the  dispersion  of  the  other  actors 
in  the  scene  upon  the  Wharf  with  which  the  reader  has  been  already 
made  acquainted,  had  no  opportunity  of  discussing  the  subject  at  that 
time.  But  Tom,  in  his  solitary  ofiice,  and  Ruth,  in  the  triangular 
parlour,  thought  about  nothing  else  all  day  :  and,  when  their  hour  of 
meeting  in  the  afternoon  approached,  they  were  very  full  of  it,  to 
be  sure. 

There  was  a  little  plot  between  them,  that  Tom  should  always  come 
out  of  the  Temple  by  one  way ;  and  that  was,  past  the  fountain. 
Coming  through  Fountain  Court,  he  was  just  to  glance  down  the  steps 
leading  into  Garden  Court,  and  to  look  once  all  round  him  ;  and  if 
Ruth  had  come  to  meet  him,  there  he  would  see  her ;  not  sauntering, 
you  understand  (on  account  of  the  clerks),  but  coming  briskly  up,  with 
the  best  little  laugh  upon  her  face  that  ever  played  in  opposition  to  the 
fountain,  and  beat  it  all  to  nothing.  Eor,  fifty  to  one,  Tom  had  been 
looking  for  her  in  the  wrong  direction,  and  had  quite  given  her  up, 
while  she  had  been  tripping  towards  him  from  the  first  :  jingling  that 
little  reticule  of  hers  (with  all  the  keys  in  it)  to  attract  his  wandering 
observation. 

Whether  there  was  life  enough  left  in  the  slow  vegetation  of  Fountain 
Court  for  the  smoky  shrubs  to  have  any  consciousness  of  the  brightest 
and  purest-hearted  little  woman  in  the  world,  is  a  question  for  gardeners, 
and  those  who  are  learned  in  the  loves  of  plants.  But,  that  it  was  a 
good  thing  for  that  same  paved  yard  to  have  such  a  delicate  little  figure 
fiitting  through  it ;  that  it  passed  like  a  smile  from  the  grimy  old 
houses,  and  the  worn  flagstones,  and  left  them  duller,  darker,  sterner 
than  before ;  there  is  no  sort  of  doubt.  The  Temple  fountain  might 
have  leaped  up  twenty  feet  to  greet  the  spring  of  hopeful  maidenhood, 
that  in  her  person  stole  on,  sparkling,  through  the  dry  and  dusty  channels 
of  the  Law  ;  the  chirping  sparrows,  bred  in  Temple  chinks  and  crannies, 
might  have  held  their  peace  to  listen  to  imaginary  skylarks,  as  so  fresh 
a  little  creature  passed;  the  dingy  boughs,  unused  to  droop,  otherwise 
than  in  their  puny  growth,  might  have  bent  down  in  a  kindred  grace- 
fulness, to  shed  their  benedictions  on  her  graceful  head  ;  old  love  letters, 
shut  up  in  iron  boxes  in  the  neighbouring  offices,  and  made  of  no  account 
among  the  heaps  of  family  papers  into  which  they  had  strayed,  and  of 
which,  in  their  degeneracy,  they  formed  a  part,  might  have  stirred  and 
fluttered  with  a  moment's  recollection  of  their  ancient  tenderness,  as  she 
went  lightly  by.  Anything  might  have  happened  that  did  not  happen, 
and  never  will,  for  the  love  of  Ruth. 

Something  happened,  too,  upon  the  afternoon  of  which  the  history 

L  L 


514  "    LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES   OP 

treats.  Not  for  her  love.  Oh  no  !  quite  by  accident,  and  without  the 
least  reference  to  her  at  all. 

Either  she  was  a  little  too  soon,  or  Tom  was  a  little  too  late — she  was 
so  precise  in  general,  that  she  timed  it  to  half  a  minute — but  no  Tom 
was  there.  Well  !  But  was  anybody  else  there,  that  she  blushed  so 
deeply,  after  looking  round,  and  tripped  off  down  the  steps  with  such 
unusual  expedition  t 

Why,  the  fact  is,  that  Mr.  Westlock  was  passing  at  that  moment. 
The  Temple  is  a  public  thoroughfare  ;  they  may  write  up  on  the  gates 
that  it  is  not,  but  so  long  as  the  gates  are  left  open  it  is,  and  will  be ; 
and  Mr.  Westlock  had  as  good  a  right  to  be  there  as  anybody  else.  But 
Vr'hy  did  she  run  away,  then  ?  Not  being  ill  dressed,  for  she  was  much 
too  neat  for  that,  why  did  she  run  away  1  The  brown  hair  that  had 
fxUen  down  beneath  her  bonnet,  and  had  one  impertinent  imp  of  a  false 
flower  clinging  to  it,  boastful  of  its  license  before  all  men,  that  could  not 
have  been  the  cause,  for  it  looked  charming.  Oh  !  foolish,  panting, 
frightened  little  heart,  why  did  she  run  away  ! 

Merrily  the  tiny  fountain  played,  and  merrily  the  dimples  sparkled 
on  its  sunny  face.  John  Westlock  hurried  after  her.  Softly  the  whis- 
pering water  broke  and  fell ;  and  roguishly  the  dimples  twinkled ;  as  he 
stole  upon  her  footsteps. 

Oh,  foolish,  panting,  timid  little  heart,  why  did  she  feign  to  be  uncon- 
scious of  his  coming  !  •  Why  vv^ish  herself  so  far  away,  yet  be  so  flutteringly 
happy  there  ! 

"  I  felt  sure  it  was  you,"  said  John,  when  he  overtook  her,  in  the 
sanctuary  of  Garden  Court.     "I  knew  I  couldn't  be  mistaken." 

She  was  so  surprised. 

"  You  are  waiting  for  your  brother,"  said  John.  "  Let  me  bear  yoa 
company." 

So  light  was  the  touch  of  the  coy  little  hand,  that  he  glanced  down 
to  assure  himself  he  had  it  on  his  arm.  But  his  glance,  stopping  for  an 
instant  at  the  bright  eyes,  forgot  its  first  design,  and  went  no  farther. 

They  walked  up  and  down  three  or  four  times,  speaking  about  Tom 
and  his  mysterious  employment.  Now  that  was  a  very  natural  and 
innocent  subject,  surely.  Then  why,  whenever  Huth  lifted  up  her  eyes, 
did  she  let  them  fall  again  immediately,  and  seek  the  uncongenial  pave- 
ment of  the  court  1  They  were  not  such  eyes  as  shun  the  light ;  they 
were  not  such  eyes  as  require  to  be  hoarded  to  enhance  their  value. 
They  were  much  too  precious  and  too  genuine  to  stand  in  need  of  arts 
like  those.     Somebody  must  have  been  looking  at  them  ! 

They  found  out  Tom,  though,  quickly  enough.  This  pair  of  eyes 
descried  him  in  the  distance,  the  moment  he  appeared.  He  was 
staring  about  him,  as  usual,  in  all  directions  but  the  right  one ;  and 
was  as  obstinate  in  not  looking  towards  them,  as  if  he  had  intended  it. 
As  it  was  plain  that,  being  left  to  himself,  he  would  walk  away  home, 
John  Westlock  darted  off  to  stop  him. 

This  made  the  approach  of  poor  little  Ruth,  by  herself,  one  of  the 
most  embarrassing  of  circumstances.  There  was  Tom,  manifesting 
extreme  surprise  (he  had  no  presence  of  mind,  that  Tom,  on  small  occa- 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  515 

■sions) ;  there  was  Jolin,  making  as  light  of  it  as  he  could,  but  explaining 
at  the  same  time,  with  most  unnecessary  elaboration  ;  and  here  was  she, 
coming  towards  them,  with  both  of  them  looking  at  her,  conscious  of 
blushing  to  a  terrible  extent,  but  trying  to  throw  up  her  eyebrows  care- 
lessly, and  pout  her  rosy  lips,  as  if  she  were  the  coolest  and  most 
Tinconcerned  of  little  women. 

Merrily  the  fountain  plashed  and  plashed,  until  the  dimples,  merging 
into  one  another,  swelled  into  a  general  smile,  that  covered  the  whole 
surface  of  the  basin. 

"  What  an  extraordinary  meeting  !  "  said  Tom.  '•  I  should  never 
have  dreamed  of  seeing  you  two  together,  here." 

"  Quite  accidental,"  John  was  heard  to  murmur. 

"  Exactly,"  cried  Tom ;  "  that 's  what  I  mean,  you  know.  If  it 
wasn't  accidental,  there  would  be  nothing  remarkable  in  it." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  John. 

"  Such  an  out-of-the-way  place  for  you  to  have  met  in,"  pursued  Tom, 
quite  delighted.     '•  Such  an  unlikely  spot !  " 

John  rather  disputed  that.  On  the  contrary,  he  considered  it  a  very 
likely  spot,  indeed.  He  was  constantly  passing  to  and  fro  there,  he  said. 
He  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  were  to  happen  again.  His  only  wonder  was, 
ihat  it  had  never  happened  before. 

By  this  time  Ruth  had  got  round  on  the  further  side  of  her  brother, 
and  had  taken  his  arm.  She  was  squeezing  it  now,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  Are  you  going  to  stop  here  ail  day,  you  dear,  old,  blundering  Tom  V 

Tom  answered  the  squeeze  as  if  it  had  been  a  speech.  "  John,"  he 
said,  "  if  you  '11  give  my  sister  your  arm,  v.^e  '11  take  her  betvv^een  us, 
and  walk  on.  I  have  a  curious  circumstance  to  relate  to  you.  Our 
meeting  could  not  have  happened  better." 

Merrily  the  fountain  leaped  and  danced,  and  merrily  the  smiling 
dimples  twinkled  and  expanded  more  and  more,  until  they  broke  into 
a  laugh  against  the  basin's  rim,  and  vanished. 

"  Tom,"  said  his  friend,  as  they  turned  into  the  noisy  street,  "  I  have 
a  proposition'  to  make.  It  is,  that  you  and  your  sister — if  she  will  so 
far  honour  a  poor  bachelor's  dwelling — give  me  a  great  pleasure,  and 
come  and  dine  with  me," 

"What,  to-day r'  cried  Tom. 

"  Yes,  to-day.  It 's  close  by,  you  know.  Pray,  Miss  Pinch,  insist 
upon  it.     It  will  be  very  disinterested,  for  I  have  nothing  to  give  you." 

"  Oh !  you  must  not  believe  that,  Ruth,"  said  Tom.  "  He  is  the  most 
tremendous  fellow,  in  his  housekeeping,  that  I  ever  heard  of,  for  a  sino-le 
man.  He  ought  to  be  Lord  Mayor.  Well !  what  do  you  say?  Shall 
we  go  ? " 

"  If  you  please,  Tom,"  rejoined  his  dutiful  little  sister. 

"But  I  mean,"  said  Tom,  regarding  her  with  smiling  admiration  :  "  is 
there  anything  you  ought  to  wear,  and  haven't  got  1  I  am  sure  I  don't 
know,  John  :  she  may  not  be  able  to  take  her  bonnet  off,  for  anything 
I  can  tell." 

There  was  a  great  deal  of  laughing  at  this,  and  there  were  divers 
compliments  from  John  Westlock — not  compliments,  he  said  at  least 

LL  2 


516  LIFE    AXD    ADVENTURES    OF 

(and  really  he  was  right),  but  good,  plain,  honest  truths,  which  no  one 
could  deny.  Ruth  laughed,  and  all  that,  but  she  made  no  objection  ; 
so  it  was  an  engagement. 

"  If  I  had  known  it  a  little  sooner,"  said  John,  "  I  would  have  tried 
another  pudding.  Not  in  rivalry  ;  but  merely  to  exalt  that  famous  one. 
I  wouldn't  on  any  account  have  had  it  made  wdth  suet." 

"  Why  not  f  asked  Tom. 

"  Because  that  cookery  book  advises  suet,"  said  John  Westlock  ; 
"  and  ours  was  made  with  flour  and  eggs." 

"  Oh  good  gracious  !"  cried  Tom.  "Our's  was  made  with  flour  and 
eggs,  was  it  ?  Ha,  ha,  ha  !  A  beefsteak  pudding  made  with  flour  and 
eggs  !  Why  anybody  knows  better  than  that.  /  know  better  than 
that !     Ha,  ha,  ha  !" 

It  is  unnecessary  to  say  that  Tom  had  been  present  at  the  making  of 
the  pudding,  and  had  been  a  devoted  believer  in  it  all  through.  But  he 
was  so  delighted  to  have  this  joke  against  his  busy  little  sister,  and  w^as 
tickled  to  that  degree  at  having  found  her  out,  that  he  stopped  in 
Temple  Bar  to  laugh  ;  and  it  was  no  more  to  Tom,  that  he  was  anathe- 
matized and  knocked  about  by  the  surly  passengers,  than  it  would  have 
been  to  a  post ;  for  he  continued  to  exclaim  with  unabated  good  humour, 
'•flour  and  eggs  !  a  beefsteak  pudding  made  with  flour  and  eggs  !"  until 
John  Westlock  and  his  sister  fairly  ran  away  from  him,  and  left  him  to 
have  his  laugh  out  by  himself ;  which  he  had  ;  and  then  came  dodging 
across  the  crowded  street  to  them,  Avith  such  sAveet  temper  and  tender- 
ness (it  was  quite  a  tender  joke  of  Tom's)  beaming  in  his  face,  God  bless 
it,  that  it  might  have  purified  the  air,  though  Temple  Bar  had  been,  as 
in  the  golden  days  gone  by,  embellished  wdth  a  row  of  rotting  human 
heads. 

There  are  snug  chambers  in  those  Inns  where  the  bachelors  live,  and,  for 
the  desolate  fellows  they  pretend  to  be,  it  is  quite  surprising  how  well 
they  get  on.  John  was  very  pathetic  on  the  subject  of  his  dreary  life,  and 
the  deplorable  make-shifts  and  apologetic  contrivances  it  involved  ;  but 
he  really  seemed  to  make  himself  pretty  comfortable.  His  rooms  were 
the  perfection  of  neatness  and  convenience  at  any  rate  ;  and  if  he  were 
anything  but  comfortable,  the  fault  was  certainly  not  theirs. 

He  had  no  sooner  ushered  Tom  and  his  sister  into  his  best  room 
(where  there  was  a  beautiful  little  vase  of  fresh  flowers  on  the  table,  all 
ready  for  Buth.  Just  as  if  he  had  expected  her,  Tom  said),  than  seizing 
his  hat,  he  bustled  out  again,  in  his  most  energetically  bustling  way  ; 
and  presently  came  hurrying  back,  as  they  saw  through  the  half-opened 
door,  attended  by  a  fiery-faced  matron  attired  in  a  crunched  bonnet,  with 
particularly  long  strings  to  it  hanging  down  her  back  ;  in  conjunction 
Avith  whom,  he  instantly  began  to  lay  the  cloth  for  dinner,  polishing  up 
the  wine  glasses  with  his  own  hands,  brightening  the  silver  top  of  the 
pepper-castor  on  his  coat-sleeve,  drawing  corks  and  filling  decanters,  with 
a  skill  and  expedition  that  were  quite  dazzling.  And  as  if,  in  the 
course  of  this  rubbing  and  polishing,  he  had  rubbed  an  enchanted  lamp  or 
a  magic  ring,  obedient  to  which  there  were  twenty  thousand  supernatural 
slaves  at  least,  suddenly  there  appeared  a  being  in  a  white  waistcoat> 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  517. 

carrying  under  his  arm  a  napkin,  and  attended  by  another  being  ^vith 
an  oblong  box  upon  his  head,  from  which  a  banquet,  piping  hot,  was 
taken  out  and  set  upon  the  table. 

Salmon,  lamb,  peas,  innocent  young  potatoes,  a  cool  salad,  sliced 
cucum1)er,  guinea  fowl,  and  tart — all  there.  They  all  came  at  the  right 
time.  Where  they  came  from  didn't  appear  ;  but  the  oblong  box  was 
constantly  going  and  coming,  and  making  its  arrival  known  to  the  man 
in  the  white  waistcoat  by  bumping  modestly  against  the  outside  of  the 
door  ;  for,  after  its  first  appearance,  it  entered  the  room  no  more.  He 
was  never  surprised,  this  man  ;  he  never  seemed  to  wonder  at  the  extra- 
ordinary things  he  found  in  the  box ;  but  took  them  out  with  a  face 
expressive  of  a  steady  purpose  and  impenetrable  character,  and  put  them 
on  the  table.  He  was  a  kind  man  ;  gentle  in  his  manners,  and  much 
interested  in  what  they  ate  and  drank.  He  was  a  learned  man, 
and  knew  the  flavour  of  John  Westlock's  private  sauces,  which  he  softly 
and  feelingly  described,  as  he  handed  the  little  bottles  round.  He  was  a 
grave  man,  and  a  noiseless  ;  for  dinner  being  done,  and  wine  and  fruit 
arranged  upon  the  board,  he  vanished,  box  and  all,  like  something  that 
had  never  been. 

"Didn't  I  say  he  was  a  tremendous  fellow  in  his  housekeeping  1 "  cried 
Tom.     "  Bless  my  soul  !     It 's  wonderful." 

"  Ah,  Miss  Pinch,"  said  John.  "  This  is  the  bright  side  of  the  life 
we  lead  in  such  a  place.  It  would  be  a  dismal  life,  indeed,  if  it  didn't 
brighten  up  to-day." 

"  Don't  believe  a  word  he  says,"  cried  Tom.  ''He  lives  here  like  a 
monarch,  and  wouldn't  change  his  mode  of  life  for  any  consideration. 
He  only  pretends  to  grumble." 

No,  John  really  did  not  appear  to  pretend ;  for  he  was  uncommonly 
earnest  in  his  desire  to  have  it  understood,  that  he  was  as  dull,  solitary, 
and  uncomfortable  on  ordinary  occasions  as  an  unfortunate  young  man 
could,  in  reason,  be.  It  was  a  wretched  life,  he  said  ;  a  miserable  life. 
He  thought  of  getting  rid  of  the  chambers  as  soon  as  possible  ;  and 
meant,  in  fact,  to  put  a  bill  up  very  shortly. 

"  Well !"  said  Tom  Pinch,  "  I  don't  know  where  you  can  go,  John, 
to  be  more  comfortable.  That  's  all  I  can  say.  What  do  you  say, 
Ruthr' 

Ruth  trifled  with  the  cherries  on  her  plate,  and  said  that  she  thought 
Mr.  Westlock  ought  to  be  quite  happy,  and  that  she  had  no  doubt  he 
was. 

Ah,  foolish,  panting,  frightened  little  heart,  how  timidly  she  said  it ! 
"  But  you  are  forgetting  what  you  had  to  tell,  Tom  :  what  occurred 
this  morning,"  she  added  in  the  same  breath. 

"  So  I  am,"  said  Tom.  "  We  have  been  so  talkative  on  other  topics, 
that  I  declare  I  have  not  had  time  to  think  of  it.  I  '11  tell  it  you  at 
once,  John,  in  case  I  should  forget  it  altogether." 

On  Tom's  relating  what  had  passed  upon  the  wharf,  his  friend  was 
very  much  surprised,  and  took  such  a  great  interest  in  the  narrative  as 
Tom  could  not  quite  understand.  He  believed  he  knew  the  old  lady 
whose  acquaintance  they  had  made,  he  said ;  and  that  he  might  venture 


518  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

to  say,  from  their  description  of  lier,  tliat  her  name  was  Gamp.  But  of 
what  nature  the  communication  could  have  been  which  Tom  had  borne 
so  unexpectedly  ;  why  its  delivery  had  been  entrusted  to  him  ;  how- 
it  happened  that  the  parties  were  involved  together  j  and  what  secret 
lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  affair  ;  perplexed  him  very  much. 
Tom  had  been  sure  of  his  taking  some  interest  in  the  matter ;  but  was 
not  prepared  for  the  strong  interest  he  shewed.  It  held  John  Westlock 
to  the  subject,  even  after  Ruth  had  left  the  room ;  and  evidently  made 
him  anxious  to  pursue  it  further  than  as  a  mere  subject  of  conversation. 

"  I  shall  remonstrate  with  my  landlord,  of  course,"  said  Tom  : 
"  though  he  is  a  very  singular  secret  sort  of  man,  and  not  likely  tO' 
afford  me  much  satisfaction ;  even  if  he  knew  what  was  in  the  letter." 

"  Which  you  may  swear  he  did,"  John  interposed. 

"  You  think  so  r' 

"  I  am  certain  of  it." 

"  Well !"  said  Tom,  "  I  shall  remonstrate  with  him  when  I  see  him 
(he  goes  in  and  out  in  a  strange  way,  but  I  will  try  to  catch  him  to- 
morrow morning),  on  his  having  asked  me  to  execute  such  an  unpleasant 
commission.  And  I  have  been  thinking,  John,  that  if  I  went  down  to 
Mrs.  What  's-her-name's  in  the  City,  where  I  was  before,  you  know — 
Mrs.  Todgers's — to-morrow  morning,  I  might  find  poor  Mercy  PecksnifF 
there,  perhaps,  and  be  able  to  explain  to  her  how  I  came  to  have  any 
hand  in  the  business." 

"  You  are  perfectly  right,  Tom,"  returned  his  friend,  after  a  short 
interval  of  reflection.  "  You  cannot  do  better.  It  is  quite  clear  to  me 
that  whatever  the  business  is,  there  is  little  good  in  it ;  and  it  is  so 
desirable  for  you  to  disentangle  yourself  from  any  appearance  of  wilful 
connection  with  it,  that  I  would  counsel  you  to  see  her  husband,  if  you. 
can,  and  wash  your  hands  of  it,  by  a  plain  statement  of  the  facts. 
I  have  a  misgiving  that  there  is  something  dark  at  work  here,  Tom. 
I  will  tell  you  why,  at  another  time  ;  when  I  have  made  an  inquiry  or 
two  myself." 

All  this  sounded  very  mysterious  to  Tom  Pinch.  But  as  he  knew  he: 
could  rely  upon  his  friend,  he  resolved  to  follow  this  advice. 

Ah,  but  it  would  have  been  a  good  thing  to  have  had  a  coat  of  invisi- 
bility, wherein  to  have  watched  little  Buth,  when  she  was  left  to  herself  in 
John  Westlock's  chambers,  and  John  and  her  brother  M^ere  talking  thus, 
over  their  wine  !  The  gentle  way  in  which  she  tried  to  get  up  a  little 
conversation  with  the  fiery-faced  matron  in  the  crunched  bonnet,  who 
was  waiting  to  attend  her  :  after  making  a  desperate  rally  in  regard 
of  her  dress,  and  attiring  herself  in  a  washed-out  yellow  gown  with 
sprigs  of  the  same  upon  it,  so  that  it  looked  like  a  tesselated  work  of 
pats  of  butter.  That  would  have  been  pleasant.  The  grim  and  griffin- 
like inflexibility  with  which  the  fiery-faced  matron  repelled  these 
engaging  advances,  as  proceeding  from  a  hostile  and  dangerous  power, 
who  could  have  no  business  there,  unless  it  were  to  deprive  her  of  a 
customer,  or  suggest  what  became  of  the  self-consuming  tea  and  sugar, 
and  other  general  trifles.  That  Avould  have  been  agreeable.  The  bashful, 
winning,  glorious  curiosity,  with  which  little  Ptuth,  when  fiery-face  was. 


MAETIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  519 

gone,  peeped  into  tlie  books  and  nick-nacks  that  were  lying  about,  and 
had  a  particular  interest  in  some  delicate  paper-matches  on  the  chimney- 
piece  :  wondering  who  could  have  made  them.  That  would  have  been 
worth  seeing.  The  faltering  hand  with  which  she  tied  those  flov/ers 
together  ;  with  which,  almost  blushing  at  her  own  fair  self  as  imaged 
in  the  glass,  she  arranged  them  in  her  breast,  and  looking  at  them  with 
her  head  aside,  now  half  resolved  to  take  them  out  again,  now  half 
resolved  to  leave  them  vrhere  they  vrere.  That  would  have  been 
delightful ! 

John  seemed  to  think  it  all  delightful  :  for  coming  in  with  Tom  to  tea, 
he  took  his  seat  beside  her  like  a  man  enchanted.  And  Avhen  the  tea- 
service  had  been  removed,  and  Tom,  sitting  down  at  the  piano,  became 
absorbed  in  some  of  his  old  organ  tunes,  he  was  still  beside  her  at  the 
open  window,  looking  out  upon  the  twilight. 

There  is  little  enough  to  see,  in  Furnival's  Inn.  It  is  a  shadv, 
quiet  place,  echoing  to  the  footsteps  of  the  stragglers  who  have 
business  there ;  and  rather  monotonous  and  gloomy  on  summer 
evenings.  What  gave  it  such  a  charm  to  them,  that  they  remained  at 
the  window  as  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time  as  Tom  himself,  the 
dreamer,  while  the  melodies  which  had  so  often  soothed  his  spirit,  were 
hovering  again  about  him  !  "What  power  infused  into  the  fading  light, 
the  gathering  darkness;  the  stars  that  here  and  there  appeared  ;  the 
evening  air,  the. city's  hum  and  stir,  the  very  chiming  of  the  old  church 
clocks ;  such  exquisite  enthralment,  that  the  divinest  regions  of  the 
earth  spread  out  before  their  eyes  could  not  have  held  them  captive  in 
a  stronger  chain  ! 

The  shadows  deepened  ;  deepened  ;  and  the  room  became  quite  dark. 
Still  Tom's  fingers  wandered  over  the  keys  of  the  piano  ;  and  still  the 
window  had  its  pair  of  tenants. 

At  length,  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  her  breath  upon  his  fore- 
head, roused  Tom  from  his  reverie. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  he  cried,  desisting  with  a  start.  "  I  am  afraid  I  have 
been  very  inconsiderate  and  unpolite." 

Tom  little  thought  how  much  consideration  and  politeness  he  had 
shown  ! 

"  Sing  something  to  us,  my  dear,"  said  Tom.  "  Let  us  hear  your 
voice.     Come  ! " 

John  Westlock  added  his  entreaties,  with  such  earnestness  that  a 
flinty  heart  alone  could  have  resisted  them.  Her 's  was  not  a  flinty 
heart.     Oh  dear  no  !     Quite  another  thing. 

So  down  she  sat,  and  in  a  pleasant  voice  began  to  sing  the  ballads 
Tom  loved  well.  Old  rhyming  stories,  with  here  and  there  a  pause  for 
a  few  simple  chords,  such  as  a  harper  might  have  sounded  in  the  ancient 
time  while  looking  upward  for  the  current  of  some  half-remembered 
legend ;  words  of  old  poets,  wedded  to  such  measures  that  the  strain  of 
music  might  have  been  the  poet's  breath,  giving  utterance  and  expression 
to  his  thoughts  ;  and  now  a  melody  so  joyous  and  light-hearted,  that 
the  singer  seemed  incapable  of  sadness,  until  in  her  inconstancy  (oh 
wicked  little  singer  I)  she  relapsed,  and  broke  the  listeners'  hearts  again  i 


520  LIFE   AND    ADVENTUKES    OF 

these  were  tlie  simple  means  she  used  to  please  them.  And  that  these 
simple  means  prevailed,  and  she  did  please  them,  let  the  still  darkened 
chamber,  and  its  long-deferred  illumination  witness  ! 

The  candles  came  at  last,  and  it  was  time  for  moving  homeward. 
Cutting  paper  carefully,  and  rolling  it  about  the  stalks  of  these  same 
flowers,  occasioned  some  delay  ;  but  even  this  was  done  in  time,  and 
Euth  was  ready. 

"  Good  night ! "  said  Tom.  "  A  memorable  and  delightful  visit, 
John  !     Good  night !  " 

John  thought  he  would  walk  with  them. 

"  No,  no.  Don't !  "  said  Tom.  "  What  nonsense  !  We  can  get  home 
very  well  alone,     I  couldn't  think  of  taking  you  out." 

But  John  said  he  would  rather. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  would  rather  ?  "  said  Tom.  "  I  am  afraid  you 
only  say  so  out  of  politeness." 

John  being  quite  sure,  gave  his  arm  to  Ruth,  and  led  her  out. 
Fiery-face,  who  was  again  in  attendance,  acknowledged  her  departure 
with  so  cold  a  curtsey  that  it  was  hardly  visible  ;  and  cut  Tom,  dead. 

Their  host  was  bent  on  walking  the  whole  distance,  and  would  not 
listen  to  Tom's  dissuasions.  Happy  time,  happy  walk,  happy  parting, 
happy  dreams  !  But  there  are  some  sweet  day-dreams,  so  there  are,  that 
put  the  visions  of  the  night  to  shame. 

Busily  the  Temple  fountain  murmured  in  the  moonlight,  while  Ruth 
lay  sleeping  with  her  flowers  beside  herj  and  John  Westlock  sketched  a 
portrait — whose  1 — from  memory. 


CHAPTER  XLVI. 


IN    WHICH    MISS     PECKSNIFF    MAKES    LOVE,      MR.     JONAS     MAKES     WRATIT, 
MRS.    GAMP    MAKES    TEA,    AND    MR.    CHUFFEY    MAKES    BUSINESS. 

On  the  next  day's  oflicial  duties  coming  to  a  close,  Tom  hurried  home 
without  losing  any  time  by  the  way ;  and,  after  dinner  and  a  short  rest, 
sallied  out  again,  accompanied  by  Ruth,  to  pay  his  projected  visit  to 
Todgers's.  Tom  took  Ruth  with  him,  not  only  because  it  was  a  great 
pleasure  to  him  to  have  her  for  his  companion  whenever  he  could,  but 
because  he  wished  her  to  cherish  and  comfort  poor  Merry ;  which  she, 
for  her  own  part  (having  heard  the  wretched  history  of  that  young 
wife  from  Tom),  was  all  eagerness  to  do. 

"  She  was  so  glad  to  see  me,"  said  Tom,  "  that  I  am  sure  she  will  be 
glad  to  see  you.  Your  sympathy  is  certain  to  be  much  more  delicate 
and  acceptable  than  mine." 

"  I  am  very  far  from  being  certain  of  that,  Tom,"  she  replied  ;  "  and 
indeed  you  do  yourself  an  injustice.  Indeed  you  do.  But  I  hope  she 
may  like  me,  Tom." 

"  Oh,  she  is  sure  to  do  that  ! "  cried  Tom,  confidently. 

"  What  a  number  of  friends  I  should  have,  if  everybody  was  of  your 


^ 


y .^ym?r//://ry yj  /^^^  /^.ty  (r^^.-7^/^^-iAui//c' 


'   ^/''yf/l7lU 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  521 

way  of  tliinklng.  Shouldn't  I,  Tom,  deir  ] "  said  his  little  sister, 
pinching  him  upon  the  cheek. 

Tom  laughed,  and  said  that  with  reference  to  this  particuliar  case  he 
had  no  doubt  at  all  of  finding  a  disciple  in  Merry.  "  For  you  women," 
said  Tom,  "  you  women,  my  dear,  are  so  kind,  and  in  your  kindness 
have  such  nice  perception ;  you  know  so  well  how  to  be  affectionate  and 
full  of  solicitude  without  appearing  to  be  ;  your  gentleness  of  feeling  is 
like  your  touch  :  so  light  and  easy,  that  the  one  enables  you  to  deal 
with  wounds  of  the  mind  as  tenderly  as  the  other  enables  you  to  deal 
with  wounds  of  the  body.     You  are  such " 

"  My  goodness,  Tom  !  "  his  sister  interposed.  "  You  ought  to  fall  in 
love  immediately." 

Tom  put  this  observation  off  good-humouredly,  but  somewhat  gravely 
too  ;  and  they  were  soon  very  chatty  again  on  some  other  subject. 

As  they  were  passing  through  a  street  in  the  City,  not  very  far  from 
Mrs.  Todgers's  place  of  residence,  Ruth  checked  Tom  before  the  window 
of  a  large  Upholstery  and  Furniture  Warehouse,  to  call  his  attention  to 
something  very  magnificent  and  ingenious,  displayed  there  to  the  best 
advantage,  for  the  admiration  and  temptation  of  the  public.  Tom  had 
hazarded  some  most  erroneous  and  extravagantly  wrong  guess  in  relation 
to  the  price  of  this  article,  and  had  joined  his  sister  in  laughing  heartily 
at  his  mistake,  when  he  pressed  her  arm  in  his,  and  pointed  to  two 
persons  at  a  little  distance,  who  were  looking  in  at  the  same  window 
with  a  deep  interest  in  the  chests  of  drawers  and  tables. 

"  Hush!"  Tom  whispered.  "Miss  Pecksniff,  and  the  young  gentleman 
to  whom  she  is  going  to  be  married." 

"  Why  does  he  look  as  if  he  was  going  to  be  buried,  Toml"  inquired 
his  little  sister. 

"Why,  he  is  naturally  a  dismal  young  gentleman,  I  believe,"  said 
Tom  :   "  but  he  is  very  civil  and  inoffensive." 

"  I  suppose  they  are  furnishing  their  house,"  whispered  Ruth. 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  they  are,"  replied  Tom.  "  We  had  better  avoid 
speaking  to  them." 

They  could  not  very  well  avoid  looking  at  them,  however,  especially 
as  some  obstruction  on  the  pavement,  at  a  little  distance,  happened  to 
detain  them  where  they  were  for  a  few  moments.  Miss  Pecksniff  had 
quite  the  air  of  having  taken  the  unhappy  Moddle  captive,  and  brought 
him  up  to  the  contemplation  of  the  furniture  like  a  lamb  to  the  altar. 
He  offered  no  resistance,  but  was  perfectly  resigned  and  quiet.  The 
melancholy  depicted  in  the  turn  of  his  languishing  head,  and  in  his 
dejected  attitude,  was  extreme;  and  though  there  was  a  fall-sized  four- 
post  bedstead  in  the  window,  such  a  tear  stood  trembling  in  his  eye,  as 
seemed  to  blot  it  out. 

"  Augustus,  my  love,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  "ask  the  price  of  the  eight 
rosewood  chairs,  and  the  loo  table." 

"  Perhaps  they  are  ordered  already,"  said  Augustus.  "  Perhaps  they 
are  Another's." 

"They  can  make  more  like  them,  if  they  are,"  rejoined  Miss  Pecksniff. 

^'  No,  no,  they  can't,"  said  Moddle.     "  It 's  impossible  1  " 


522  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

He  appeared,  for  the  moment,  to  be  quite  overwhelmed  and  stupified 
by  the  prospect  of  his  approaching  hajDpiness ;  but  recovering,  entered 
the  shop.     He  returned  immediately :  saying  in  a  tone  of  despair, 

"  Twenty-four  pound  ten  !  " 

Miss  Pecksniff,  turning  to  receive  this  announcement,  became  conscious 
of  the  observation  of  Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister. 

"  Oh,  really  !"  cried  Miss  Pecksniii,  glancing  about  her,  as  if  for  some 
convenient  means  of  sinking  into  the  earth.  "  Upon  my  word,  I — 
there  never  was  such  a  —  to  think  that  one  should  be  so  very — 
Mr.  Augustus  ^loddle  :  Miss  Pinch  !  " 

Miss  Pecksniff  was  quite  gracious  to  Miss  Pinch  in  this  triumphant 
introduction  ;  exceedingly  gracious.  She  was  more  than  gracious  ;  she 
was  kind  and  cordial.  Whether  the  recollection  of  the  old  service  Tom 
had  rendered  her  in  knocking  Mr.  Jonas  on  the  head,  had  WTOught  this 
change  in  her  opinions ;  or  whether  her  separation  from  her  parent  had 
reconciled  her  to  all  human-kind,  or  to  all  that  increasing  portion  of 
human-kind  w^hich  was  not  friendly  to  him  ;  or  whether  the  delight  of 
having  some  new  female  acquaintance  to  whom  to  communicate  her 
interesting  prospects,  w^as  paramount  to  every  other  consideration  j  cordial 
and  kind  Miss  Pecksniff  was.  And  twice  Miss  Pecksniff  kissed  ]\iiss 
Pinch  upon  the  cheek. 

"  Augustus — Mr.  Pinch,  you  know.  My  dear  girl ! "  said  Miss  Peck- 
sniff, aside.     "  I  never  was  so  ashamed  in  my  life." 

Ruth  begged  her  not  to  think  of  it. 

"  I  mind  your  brother  less  than  anybody  else,"  simpered  Miss 
Pecksniff.  "But  the  indelicacy  of  meeting  any  gentleman  under  such 
circumstances  !     Augustus,  my  child,  did  you " 

Here  Miss  Pecksniff  whispered  in  his  ear.  The  suffering  Moddle 
repeated  : 

"  Twenty  four  pound  ten  !  " 

"  Oh,  you  silly  man  !  I  don't  mean  them,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  I 
am  speaking  of  the 

Here  she  whispered  him  again. 

"  If  it 's  the  same  patterned  chintz  as  that  in  the  window ;  thirty-two, 
twelve,  six,"  said  Moddle,  with  a  sigh.     "  And  very  dear." 

Miss  Pecksniff  stopped  him  from  giving  any  further  explanation  by 
laying  her  hand  upon  his  lips,  and  betraying  a  soft  embarrassment. 
She  then  asked  Tom  Pinch  Avhich  way  he  was  going. 

''  I  was  going  to  see  if  I  could  find  your  sister,"  answered  Tom,  "  to 
whom  I  wished  to  say  a  few  words.  V/e  were  going  to  Mrs.  Todgers's, 
Avhere  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her,  before." 

"  It 's  of  no  use  your  going  on,  then,"  said  Cherry,  "  for  we  have  not 
long  left  there  ;  and  I  know  she  is  not  at  home.  But  I  '11  take  you  to 
my  sister's  house,  if  you  please.  Augustus — Mr.  Moddle,  I  mean — and 
myself,  are  on  our  way  to  tea  there,  now.  You  needn't  think  of  ki?n,''* 
she  added,  nodding  her  head,  as  she  observed  some  hesitation  on  Tom's 
part.     "  He  is  not  at  home." 

"  Are  you  sure  1 "  asked  Tom. 

"  Oh,  I  am  quite  sure  of  that.     I  don't  w^ant  any  7nore  revenge," 


MAKTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  523 

said  Miss  PecksniiF,  expressively.  "  But,  really,  I  must  beg  you  two 
gentlemen  to  walk  on,  and  allow  me  to  follow  with  Miss  Pinch.  My 
dear,  I  never  was  so  taken  by  surprise  !  " 

In  furtherance  of  this  bashful  arrangement,  Moddle  gave  his  arm  ta 
Tom  ;  and  Miss  PecksniiF  linked  her  own  in  Ruth's. 

"  Of  course,  my  love,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  "  it  would  be  useless  for 
me  to  disguise,  after  Vv'hat  you  have  seen,  that  I  am  about  to  be  united 
to  the  gentleman  who  is  walking  with  your  brother.  It  would  be  in 
vain  to  conceal  it.  What  do  you  think  of  him  ?  Pray,  let  me  have 
your  candid  opinion." 

Ruth  intimated  that,  as  far  as  she  could  judge,  he  was  a  very  eligible 
swain. 

"  I  am  curious  to  know,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  with  loquacious  frank- 
ness, "  whether  you  have  observed,  or  fancied,  in  this  very  short  space  of 
time,  that  he  is  of  a  rather  melancholy  turn  ? " 

"  So  very  short  a  time,"  Ruth  pleaded. 

"  No,  no  ;  but  don't  let  that  interfere  with  your  answer,"  returned 
Miss  Pecksniff.     "  I  am  curious  to  hear  what  you  say." 

Ruth  acknowledged  that  he  had  impressed  her  at  first  sight  as  looking 
"  rather  low. " 

"  No,  really  ?"  said  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  Well !  that  is  quite  remarkable  t 
Everybody  says  the  same.  Mrs.  Todgers  says  the  same  ;  and  Augustus 
informs  me  that  it  is  quite  a  joke  among  the  gentlemen  in  the  house. 
Indeed,  but  for  the  positive  commands  I  have  laid  upon  him,  I  believe 
it  would  have  been  the  occasion  of  loaded  fire-arms  being  resorted  to 
more  than  once.  What  do  you  think  is  the  cause  of  his  appearance  of 
depression  ?  " 

Ruth  thought  of  several  things  ;  such  as  his  digestion,  his  tailor,  his 
mother,  and  the  like.  But,  hesitating  to  give  utterance  to  any  one  of 
them,  she  refrained  from  expressing  an  opinion. 

"My  dear,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff;  "I  shouldn't  wish  it  to  be  known, 
but  I  don't  mind  mentioning  it  to  you,  having  known  your  brother  for 
so  many  years — I  refused  Augustus  three  times.  He  is  of  a  most 
amiable  and  sensitive  nature  ;  always  ready  to  shed  tears,  if  you  look  at 
him,  which  is  extremely  charming ;  and  he  has  never  recovered  the 
effect  of  that  cruelty.  For  it  icas  cruel,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  with  a 
self-convictiuff  candour  that  mij^ht  have  adorned  the  diadem  of  her  own 
papa.  "  There  is  no  doubt  of  it.  I  look  back  upon  my  conduct  now 
wdth  blushes.  I  always  liked  him.  I  felt  that  he  was  not  to  me  what 
the  crowd  of  young  men  who  had  made  proposals  had  been,  but  something- 
very  different.     Then  what  right  had  I  to  refuse  him  three  times  V 

"It  was  a  severe  trial  of  his  fidelity,  no  doubt,"" said  Ruth. 

"  My  dear,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  It  was  wrong.  But  such  is 
the  caprice  and  thoughtlessness  of  our  sex !  Let  me  be  a  warning  to 
you.  Don't  try  the  feelings  of  any  one  who  makes  you  an  ofter,  as  I 
have  tried  the  feelings  of  Augustus  ;  but  if  you  ever  feel  towards  a 
person  as  I  really  felt  towards  him-,  at  the  very  time  when  I  was  driving 
him  to  distraction,  let  that  feeling  find  expression,  if  that  person  throws 
himself  at  your  feet,  as  Augustus  Moddle  did  at  mine.     Think,"  said 


524  LIFE    AND    ADVEXTURES    OF 

Miss  Pecksniff,  '-  what  my  feelings  would  have  been,  if  I  had  goaded  him 
to  suicide,  and  it  had  got  into  the  papers  !" 

Euth  observed  that  she  -would  have  been  full  of  remorse,  no  doubt. 

"  Remorse ! "  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  in  a  sort  of  snug  and  comfortable 
penitence.  "  What  my  remorse  is  at  this  moment,  even  after  making 
reparation  by  accepting  him,  it  would  be  impossible  to  tell  you  !  Looking 
back  upon  my  giddy  self,  my  dear,  now  that  I  am  sobered  down  and  made 
thoughtful,  by  treading  on  the  very  brink  of  matrimony ;  and  contem- 
plating myself  as  I  was  when  I  was  like  what  you  are  now ;  I  shudder. 
I  shudder.  What  is  the  consequence  of  my  past  conduct  1  Until 
Augustus  leads  me  to  the  altar,  he  is  not  sure  of  me.  I  have  blighted 
and  withered  the  affections  of  his  heart  to  that  extent  that  he  is  not 
sure  of  me.  I  see  that  preying  on  his  mind  and  feeding  on  his  vitals. 
What  are  the  reproaches  of  my  conscience,  when  I  see  this  in  the  man 
I  love  !" 

Ruth  endeavoured  to  express  some  sense  of  her  unbounded  and  flat- 
tering confidence ;  and  presumed  that  she  was  going  to  be  married  soon. 

"Very  soon  indeed,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff.  "As  soon  as  our  house 
is  ready.     We  are  furnishing  now  as  fast  as  we  can." 

In  the  same  vein  of  confidence,  Miss  Pecksniff  ran  through  a  general 
inventory  of  the  articles  that  were  already  bought,  and  the  articles  that 
remained  to  be  purchased  ;  what  garments  she  intended  to  be  married 
in,  and  where  the  ceremony  was  to  be  performed  ;  and  gave  Miss  Pinch, 
in  short  (as  she  told  her),  early  and  exclusive  information  on  all  points 
of  interest  connected  with  the  event. 

While  this  was  going  forward  in  the  rear,  Tom  and  Mr.  Moddle 
walked  on,  arm  in  arm,  in  the  front,  in  a  state  of  profound  silence,  which 
Tom  at  last  broke  :  after  thinking  for  a  long  time  what  he  could  say 
that  should  refer  to  an  indifferent  topic,  in  respect  of  which  he  might 
rely,  with  some  degree  of  certainty,  on  Mr.  Moddle's  bosom  being 
unruffled. 

"  I  wonder,"  said  Tom,  "  that  in  these  crowded  streets,  the  foot- 
passengers  are  not  oftener  run  over." 

Mr.  Moddle,  with  a  dark  look,  replied  : 

"  The  drivers  won't  do  it." 

"  Do  you  mean  T     Tom  began — 

"  That  there  are  some  men,"  interrupted  Moddle,  with  a  hollow  laugh, 
"who  can't  get  run  over.  They  live  a  charmed  life.  Coal  waggons 
recoil  from  them,  and  even  cabs  refuse  to  run  them  down.  Ay !"  said 
Augustus,  marking  Tom's  astonishment.  "  There  are  such  men.  One 
of  'em  is  a  friend  of  mine." 

"  Upon  my  word  and  honour,"  thought  Tom,  "  this  young  gentleman 
is  in  a  state  of  mind,  which  is  very  serious  indeed  !"  xibandoning  all 
idea  of  conversation,  he  did  not  venture  to  say  another  word ;  but  he 
was  careful  to  keep  a  tight  hold  upon  Augustus's  arm,  lest  he  should 
fly  into  the  road  ;  and  making  another,  and  a  more  successful  attempt, 
should  get  up  a  private  little  Juggernaut  before  the  eyes  of  his  betrothed. 
Tom  was  so  afraid  of  his  committing  this  rash  act,  that  he  had  scarcely 
ever  experienced  such  a  mental  relief  as  when  they  arrived  in  safety  at 
Mrs.  Jonas  Chuzzlewit's  house. 


MARTIN    CHrzZLEWIT.  525 

"  Walk  up,  pray,  Mr.  Pincli,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff.  For  Tom  halted, 
irresolutely,  at  the  door. 

"  I  am  doubtful  whether  I  should  be  welcome,"  replied  Tom,  "  or,  I 
ought  rather  to  say,  I  have  no  doubt  about  it.  I  will  send  up  a  message, 
I  think." 

"But  what  nonsense  that  is  !"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  speaking  apart 
to  Tom.  "  He  is  not  at  home,  I  am  certain  ;  I  know  he  is  not ;  and 
Merry  hasn't  the  least  idea  that  you  ever " 

"  Ko,"  interrupted  Tom.  "  Nor  would  I  have  her  know  it,  on  any 
account.     I  am  not  so  proud  of  that  scuffle,  I  assure  you." 

"  Ah,  but  then  you  are  so  modest,  you  see,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff, 
with  a  smile.  •'  But  pray  walk  up.  If  you  don't  wish  her  to  know  it^ 
and  do  wish  to  speak  to  her,  pray  walk  up.  Pray  walk  up.  Miss  Pinch. 
Don't  stand  here." 

Tom  still  hesitated ;  for  he  felt  that  he  was  in  an  awkward  position. 
But  Cherry  passing  him  at  this  juncture,  and  leading  his  sister  upstairs; 
and  the  house-door  being  at  the  same  time  shut  behind  them ;  he  fol- 
lowed without  quite  knowing  whether  it  was  well  or  ill-judged  so  to  do. 

"  Merry,  my  darling  !"  said  the  fair  Miss  Pecksniff,  opening  the  door 
of  the  usual  sitting-room.  "  Here  are  Mr.  Pinch  and  his  sister  come  to 
see  you  !  I  thought  we  should  find  you  here,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  How  do 
you  do,  Mrs.  Gamp  ?  And  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Chuffey,  though  it 's  of  no 
use  asking  you  the  question,  I  am  well  aware." 

Honouring  each  of  these  parties,  as  she  severally  addressed  them^ 
with  an  acid  smile;  Miss  Charity  presented  Mr.  Moddle. 

"I  believe  you  have  seen  him  before,"  she  pleasantly  observed. 
"  Augustus,  my  sweet  child,  bring  me  a  chair." 

The  sweet  child  did  as  he  was  told ;  and  was  then  about  to  retire 
into  a  corner  to  mourn  in  secret,  when  Miss  Charity,  calling  him  in  an 
audible  whisper  "  a  little  pet,"  gave  him  leave  to  come  and  sit  beside 
her.  It  is  to  be  hoped,  for  the  general  cheerfulness  of  mankind,  that 
such  a  doleful  little  pet  was  never  seen  as  Mr.  Moddle  looked  when 
he  complied.  So  despondent  was  his  temper,  that  he  showed  no  out- 
ward thrill  of  ecstasy,  when  Miss  Pecksniff  placed  her  lily  hand  in  his, 
and  concealed  this  mark  of  her  favour  from  the  vulgar  gaze,  by  cover- 
ing it  with  a  corner  of  her  shawl.  Indeed,  he  was  infinitely  more 
rueful  then  than  he  had  been  before  ;  and,  sitting  uncomfortably  up- 
right in  his  chair,  surveyed  the  company  with  watery  eyes,  which  seemed 
to  say,  without  the  aid  of  language,  "  Oh,  good  gracious  !  look  here ! 
Won't  some  kind  Christian  help  me  !  " 

But  the  ecstasies  of  Mrs.  Gamp  were  sufficient  to  have  furnished  forth 
a  score  of  young  lovers  ;  and  they  were  chiefly  awakened  by  the  sight 
of  Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister.  Mrs.  Gamp  was  a  lady  of  that  happy 
temperament  which  can  be  ecstatic  without  any  other  stimulating  cause 
than  a  general  desire  to  establish  a  large  and  profitable  connection.  She 
added  daily  so  many  strings  to  her  bow,  that  she  made  a  perfect  harp  of 
it ;  and  upon  that  instrument  she  now  began  to  perform  an  extempo- 
raneous concerto. 

"Why,  goodness  me  !"  she  said.     "Mrs.  Chuzzlewit !     To  think  as 


526  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

I  should  see  beneath  this  blessed  ouse,  which  well  I  know  it,  Miss 
Pecksniff,  mj  sweet  young  ladjj^-  to  be  a  ouse  as  there  is  not  a  many 
like,  worse  luck  and  wishin'  it  ware  not  so,  which  then  this  tearful 
walley  would  be  changed  into  a  flowerin'  guardian,  Mr.  Chuffey  ;  to 
think  as  I  should  see  beneath  this  indiwidgle  roof,  identically  comin', 
Mr.  Pinch  (I  take  the  liberty,  though  almost  unbeknown),  and  do 
assure  you  of  it,  sir,  the  smilinest  and  sweetest  face  as  ever,  Mrs. 
Chuzzlewit,  I  see,  exceptin'  yourn,  my  dear  good  lady,  and  ?/ozfr  good 
lady's  too,  sir,  Mr.  Moddle,  if  I  may  make  so  bold  as  speak  so  plain  of 
what  is  plain  enough  to  them  as  needn't  look  through  millstones,  Mrs. 
Todgers,  to  find  out  wot  is  wrote  upon  the  wall  behind.  Which  no 
offence  is  meant,  ladies  and  gentlemen  ;  none  bein'  took,  I  hope.  To 
think  as  I  should  see  that  smilinest  and  sweetest  face  which  me  and 
another  friend  of  mine,  took  notige  of  among  the  packages  down  London 
JBridge,  in  this  promiscous  place,  is  a  surprige  in-deed  ! " 

Having  contrived,  in  this  happy  manner,  to  invest  every  member  of  her 
audience  with  an  individual  share  and  immediate  personal  interest  in  her 
address,  Mrs.  Gamp  dropped  several  curtseys  to  Ruth,  and  smilingly  shak- 
ing her  head  a  great  many  times,  pursued  the  thread  of  her  discourse  : 

"Now;,  ain't  we  rich  in  beauty  this  here  joyful .arternoon,  I  'm  sure  ! 
I  knows  a  lady,  which  her  name,  I'll  not  deceive  you,  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit, 
is  Harris,  her  husband's  brother  bein'  six  foot  three,  and  marked  with 
a  mad  bull  in  Wellinton  boots  upon  his  left  arm,  on  account  of  his 
precious  mother  havin'  been  worrited  by  one  into  a  shoemaker's  shop, 
when  in  a  sitiwation  which  blessed  is  the  man  as  has  his  quiver  full  of 
sech,  as  many  times  I  've  said  to  Gamp  when  words  has  roge  betwixt  us 
on  account  of  the  expense — and  often  have  I  said  to  Mrs.  Harris,  '  Oh, 
Mrs.  Harris,  ma'am  !  your  countenance  is  quite  a  angel's  ! '  Which, 
but  for  Pimples,  it  would  be.  '  No,  Sairey  Gamp,'  says  she,  'you  best  of 
hard-working  and  industrious  creeturs  as  ever  was  underpaid  at  any 
price,  which  underpaid  you  are,  quite  diff'rent.  Harris  had  it  done 
afore  marriage  at  ten  and  six,'  she  says,  '  and  wore  it  faithful  next  his 
heart  'till  the  colour  run,  when  the  money  was  declined  to  be  give  back, 
and  no  arrangement  could  be  come  to.  But  he  never  said  it  was  a 
angel's,  Sairey,  wotever  he  might  have  thought.'  If  Mrs.  Harris's 
husband  was  here  now,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  looking  round,  and  chuckling 
as  she  dropped  a  general  curtsey,  "  he  'd  speak  out  plain,  he  would, 
and  his  dear  wife  would  be  the  last  to  blame  him  !  For  if  ever  a 
woman  lived  as  know'd  not  wot  it  was  to  form  a  wish  to  pizon  them  as 
had  good  looks,  and  had  no  reagion  give  her  by  the  best  of  husbands, 
Mrs.  Harris  is  that  ev'nly  dispogician  !  " 

With  these  words  the  worthy  woman,  who  appeared  to  have  dropped 
in  to  take  tea  as  a  delicate  little  attention,  rather  than  to  have  any 
engagement  on  the  premises  in  an  official  capacity,  crossed  to  Mr. 
Chuffey,  who  was  seated  in  the  same  corner  as  of  old,  and  shook  him 
by  the  shoulder. 

"Rouge  yourself,  and  look  up!  Come!"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "Here's 
company,  Mr.  Chuffey." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  it,"  cried  the  old  man,  looking  humbly  round  the 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  527' 

room.      "  I  know  I  'm  in  the  way.     I  ask  pardon,  but  I  've  nowliere 
else  to  go  to.     Where  is  she  1 " 

Merrj  went  to  him  immediately. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  old  man,  patting  her  on  the  cheek.  "  Here  she  is. 
Here  she  is !     She 's  never  hard  on  poor  old  ChufFey.    Poor  old  Chuff  !  " 

As  she  took  her  seat  upon  a  low  chair  by  the  old  man's  side,  and  put 
herself  Avithin  the  reach  of  his  hand,  she  looked  up  once  at  Tom.  It 
was  a  sad  look  that  she  cast  upon  him,  though  there  vfas  a  faint  smile 
trembling  on  her  face.  It  was  a  speaking  look,  and  Tom  knew  what  it 
said.  "  You  see  how  misery  has  changed  me.  I  can  feel  for  a  dependant 
now,  and  set  some  value  on  his  attachment." 

"Ay,  ay  !"  cried  ChufFey  in  a  soothing  tone.  "  Ay,  ay,  ay  !  Never 
mind  him.  It 's  hard  to  bear,  but  never  mind  him.  He  'II  die  one 
day.  There  are  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  in  the  year — 
three  hundred  and  sixty-six  in  leap-year — and  he  may  die  on  any  one 
of  'em." 

"  You  're  a  wearing  old  soul,  and  that 's  the  sacred  truth,"  said 
Mrs.  Gamp,  contemplating  him  from  a  little  distance  with  anything  but 
favour,  as  he  continued  to  mutter  to  himself.  "  It 's  a  pity  that  you  don't 
know  wot  you  say,  for  you  'd  tire  your  own  patience  out  if  you  did, 
and  fret  yourself  into  a  happy  releage  for  all  as  knows  you." 

"  His  son,"  murmured  the  old  man  liftins^  ud  his  hand.     "  His  son  !  " 

"Well  I'm  sure!"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "You're  a  settlin'  of  it, 
Mr.  ChufFey.  To  your  satigefaction.  Sir,  I  hope.  But  I  wouldn't  lay 
a  new  pincushion  on  it  myself,  Sir,  though  you  are  so  well  informed. 
Drat  the  old  creetur,  he  's  a  layin'  down  the  law  tolerable  confident,  too  ! 
A  deal  he  knows  of  sons  !  or  darters  either  !  Suppose  you  was  to  favor 
us  with  some  remarks  on  twins.  Sir,  would  you  be  so  good  !" 

The  bitter  and  indignant  sarcasm  which  Mrs.  Gamp  conveyed  into 
these  taunts  was  altogether  lost  on  the  unconscious  Chuffey,  who  appeared 
to  be  as  little  cognizant  of  their  delivery  as  of  his  having  given 
Mrs.  Gamp  offence.  But  that  high-minded  woman,  being  sensitively 
alive  to  any  invasion  of  her  professional  province,  and  imagining  that 
Mr.  ChufFey  had  given  utterance  to  some  prediction  on  the  subject  of 
sons,  which  ought  to  have  emanated  in  the  first  instance  from  herself  as 
the  only  lawful  authority,  or  which  should  at  least  have  been  on  no 
account  proclaimed  without  her  sanction  and  concurrence,  was  not  so 
easily  appeased.  She  continued  to  sidle  at  Mr.  ChufFey  with  looks  of 
sharp  hostility,  and  to  defy  him  with  many  other  ironical  remarks, 
uttered  in  that  low  key  which  commonly  denotes  suppressed  indigna- 
tion ;  until  the  entrance  of  the  tea-board,  and  a  request  from  Mrs.  Jonas 
that  she  would  make  tea  at  a  side-table  for  the  party  that  had  unex- 
pectedly assembled,  restored  her  to  herself.  She  smiled  again,  and 
entered  on  her  ministration  with  her  own  particular  urbanity. 

"  And  quite  a  family  it  is  to  make  tea  for,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  "  and 
wot  a  happiness  to  do  it !  My  good  young  'ooman  " — to  the  servant- 
girl — "  p'raps  somebody  would  like  to  try  a  new-laid  egg  or  two,  not 
biled  too  hard.  Likeways,  a  few  rounds  o'  buttered  toast,  first  cuttin' 
off  the  crust,  in  consequence  of  tender  teeth,  and  not  too  many  of  'em  ; 


528  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

which  Gamp  himself,  Mrs.  Chuzzlewit,  at  one  blow,  being  In  llquop 
struck  out  four,  two  single,  and  two  double,  as  was  took  by  Mrs.  Harris  for 
a  keepsake,  and  is  carried  In  her  pocket  at  this  present  hour,  along  with 
two  cramp-bones,  a  bit  o'  ginger,  and  a  grater  like  a  blessed  infant's 
shoe,  in  tin,  with  a  little  heel  to  put  the  nutmeg  in  :  as  many  times 
I  've  seen  and  said,  and  used  for  caudle  when  required  within  the  month." 

As  the  privileges  of  the  side-table ;  besides  including  the  small  pre- 
rogatives of  sitting  next  the  toast,  and  taking  two  cups  of  tea  to  other 
people's  one,  and  always  taking  them  at  a  crisis,  that  is  to  say,  before 
putting  fresh  water  into  the  teapot,  and  after  it  had  been  standing  for 
some  time ;  also  comprehended  a  full  view  of  the  company,  and  an 
opportunity  of  addressing  them  as  from  a  rostrum,  Mrs.  Gamp  discharged 
the  functions  entrusted  to  her  with  extreme  good-humour  and  affability. 
Sometimes,  resting  her  saucer  on  the  palm  of  her  outspread  hand,  and 
supporting  her  elbow  on  the  table,  she  stopped  between  her  sips  of  tea 
to  favour  the  circle  with  a  smile,  a  wink,  a  roll  of  the  head,  or  some  other 
mark  of  notice ;  and  at  those  periods,  her  countenance  was  lighted  up  with 
a  degree  of  intelligence  and  vivacity,  which  it  was  almost  impossible  to 
separate  from  the  benignant  influence  of  distilled  waters. 

But  for  Mrs.  Gamp,  it  M'ould  have  been  a  curiously  silent  party. 
Miss  Pecksniff  only  spoke  to  her  Augustus,  and  to  him  in  whispers. 
Augustus  spoke  to  nobody,  but  sighed  for  every  one,  and  occasionally 
gave  himself  such  a  sounding  slap  upon  the  forehead  as  would  make 
Mrs.  Todgers,  who  was  rather  nervous,  start  up  in  her  chair  with  an 
involuntary  exclamation.  Mrs.  Todgers  was  occupied  in  knitting,  and 
seldom  spoke.  Poor  Merry  held  the  hand  of  cheerful  little  Ruth  between 
her  own,  and  listening  with  evident  pleasure  to  all  she  said,  but  rarely 
speaking  herself,  sometimes  smiled,  and  sometimes  kissed  her  on  the 
cheek,  and  sometimes  turned  aside  to  hide  the  tears  that  trembled  in 
her  eyes.  Tom  felt  this  change  in  her  so  much,  and  was  so  glad  to  see 
how  tenderly  Ruth  dealt  with  her,  and  how  she  knew  and  answered  to 
it,  that  he  had  not  the  heart  to  make  any  movement  towards  their 
departure,  although  he  had  long  since  given  utterance  to  all  he  came 
to  say. 

The  old  clerk,  subsiding  into  his  usual  state,  remained  profoundly 
silent,  while  the  rest  of  the  little  assembly  were  thus  occupied,  intent 
upon  the  dreams,  whatever  they  might  be,  which  hardly  seemed  to  stir 
the  surface  of  his  sluggish  thoughts.  The  bent  of  these  dull  fancies 
combining  probably  with  the  silent  feasting  that  was  going  on  about 
him,  and  some  struggling  recollection  of  the  last  approach  to  revelry  he 
had  witnessed,  suggested  a  strange  question  to  his  mind.  He  looked 
round  upon  a  sudden,  and  said, 

"  Who  's  lying  dead  upstairs  1 " 

"  No  one,"  said  Merry  turning  to  him.  "  What  Is  the  matter  ? 
We  are  all  here." 

"  All  here  ! "  cried  the  old  man,  "  All  here  !  Where  Is  he  then — my 
old  master,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  who  had  the  only  son  1    Where  is  he  1 " 

'•Hush !  Hush  !"  said  Merry,  speaking  kindly  to  him.  "That  happened 
long  ago.     Don't  you  recollect  1 " 


-^. 


a^p?i//>'  '7/ia/f^< 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  '  529 

•     *' Kecollect  !  "  rejoined  the  old  man,  with  a  cry  of  grief.     "As  if  I 
X30uld  forget !     As  if  I  ever  could  forget !  " 

He  put  his  hand  up  to  his  face  for  a  moment ;  and  then  repeated, 
turning  round  exactly  as  before, 

"  Who  's  lying  dead  upstairs  ?  " 

"  No  one  !  "  said  Merry. 

At  first  he  gazed  angrily  upon  her,  as  upon  a  stranger  who  endeavoured 
to  deceive  him ;  but,  peering  into  her  face,  and  seeing  that  it  was  indeed 
she,  he  shook  his  head  in  sorrowful  compassion. 

"  You  think  not.  But  they  don't  tell  you.  No,  no,  poor  thing  ! 
They  don't  tell  you.  Who  are  these,  and  why  are  they  merry-making 
here,  if  there  is  no  one  dead  1    Foul  play  !    Go  see  who  it  is  !  " 

She  made  a  sign  to  them  not  to  speak  to  him,  which  indeed  they  had 
little  inclination  to  do ;  and  remained  silent  herself.  So  did  he  for  a 
■short  time ;  but  then  he  repeated  the  same  question  with  an  eagerness 
that  had  a  peculiar  terror  in  it. 

"  There 's  some  one  dead,"  he  said,  "  or  dying  ;  and  I  want  to  know 
who  it  is.     Go  see,  go  see  !  Where  's  Jonas  1 " 

"  In  the  country,"  she  replied. 

The  old  man  gazed  at  her  as  if  he  doubted  what  she  said,  or  had  not 
heard  her ;  and,  rising  from  his  chair,  walked  across  the  room  and 
■upstairs,  whispering  as  he  w^ent,  "Foul  play!"  They  heard  his  footsteps 
over-head,  going  up  into  that  corner  of  the  room  in  which  the  bed  stood 
(it  was  there  old  Anthony  had  died)  ;  and  then  they  heard  him  coming 
down  again  immediately.  His  fancy  was  not  so  strong  or  wild  that  it 
pictured  to  him  anything  in  the  deserted  bed-chamber  which  was  not 
there ;  for  he  returned  much  calmer,  and  appeared  to  have  satisfied 
himself. 

"  They  don't  tell  you,"  he  said  to  Merry  in  his  quavering  voice,  as  he 
sat  down  again,  and  patted  her  upon  the  head.  "  They  don't  tell  me 
either;  but  I'll  watch,  I'll  watch.  They  shall  not  hurt  you  ;  don't  be 
frightened.  When  you  have  sat  up  w^atching,  I  have  sat  up  watching 
too.  Ay,  ay,  I  have  !"  he  piped  out,  clenching  his  weak,  shrivelled 
hand.     "Many  a  night  I  have  been  ready  !  " 

He  said  this  with  such  trembling  gaps  and  pauses  in  his  want  of 
breath,  and  said  it  in  his  jealous  secrecy  so  closely  in  her  ear,  that  little 
or  nothing  of  it  was  understood  by  the  visitors.  But  they  had  heard 
and  seen  enough  of  the  old  man  to  be  disquieted,  and  to  have  left  their 
seats  and  gathered  about  him ;  thereby  affording  Mrs.  Gamp,  whose 
professional  coolness  was  not  so  easily  disturbed,  an  eligible  opportunity 
for  concentrating  the  whole  resources  of  her  powerful  mind  and  appetite 
upon  the  toast  and  butter,  tea  and  eggs.  She  had  brought  them  to  bear 
upon  those  viands  with  such  vigour  that  her  face  was  in  the  highest 
state  of  inflammation,  when  she  now  (there  being  nothing  left  to  eat  or 
drink)  saw  fit  to  interpose. 

"  Why,  highty  tighty,  sir  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  is  these  your  man- 
ners 1  You  want  a  pitcher  of  cold  water  throw'd  over  you  to  bring  you 
round  ;  that 's  my  belief ;  and  if  you  was  under  Betsy  Prig  you  'd  have 
it,  too,  I  do  assure  you,  Mr.  Chuffey.     Spanish  Flies  is  the  only  thing 

M  M 


530 


LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES     OF 


to  draw  this  nonsense  out  of  you ;  and  if  any  body  wanted  to  do  you  a 
kindness,  tliey  'd  clap  a  blister  of  'em  on  your  head,  and  put  a  mustard 
poultige  on  your  back.  Who 's  dead,  indeed  !  It  wouldn't  be  no 
grievious  loss  if  some  one  was,  I  think  ! " 

"  He  's  quiet  now,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  said  Merry.     "  Don't  disturb  him." 

"  Oh,  bother  the  old  wictim,  Mrs.  ChuzzleAvit,"  replied  that  zealous 
lady,  "  I  ain't  no  patience  with  him.  You  give  him  his  own  way  too 
much  by  half.     A  worritin'  Avexagious  creeter  !" 

No  doubt  with  the  view  of  carrying  out  the  precepts  she  enforced^ 
and  'bothering  the  old  victim'  in  practice  as  well  as  in  theory,  Mrs, 
Gamp  took  him  by  the  collar  of  his  coat,  and  gave  him  some  dozen  or 
two  of  hearty  shakes  backward  and  forward  in  his  chair  ;  that  exercise 
being  considered  by  the  disciples  of  the  Prig  school  of  nursing  (who  are 
very  numerous  among  professional  ladies)  as  exceedingly  conducive  to 
repose,  and  highly  beneficial  to  the  performance  of  the  nervous  functions. 
Its  effect  in  this  instance  was  to  render  the  patient  so  giddy  and  addle- 
headed,  that  he  could  say  nothing  more  ;  which  Mrs.  Gamp  regarded  as 
the  triumph  of  her  art. 

"  There  ! "  she  said,  loosening  the  old  man's  cravat,  in  consequence  of 
his  being  rather  black  in  the  face,  after  this  scientific  treatment.  "  Now, 
I  hope,  you  're  easy  in  your  mind.  If  you  should  turn  at  all  faint,  we 
can  soon  rewive  you,  sir,  I  promige  you.  Bite  a  person's  thumbs,  or  turn 
their  fingers  the  wrong  way,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  smiling  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  at  once  imparting  pleasure  and  instruction  to  her  auditors, 
"  and  they  comes  to,  wonderful,  Lord  bless  you  ! " 

As  this  excellent  woman  had  been  formally  entrusted  with  the  care  of 
Mr.  Chuffey  on  a  previous  occasion,  neither  Mrs.  Jonas  nor  anybody 
else  had  the  resolution  to  interfere  directly  with  her  mode  of  treatment : 
though  all  present  (Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister  especially)  appeared  to  be 
disposed  to  differ  from  her  views.  For  such  is  the  rash  boldness  of  the 
uninitiated,  that  they  will  frequently  set  up  some  monstrous  abstract 
principle,  such  as  humanity,  or  tenderness,  or  the  like  idle  folly,  in 
obstinate  defiance  of  all  precedent  and  usage ;  and  will  even  venture  to 
maintain  the  same  against  the  persons  who  have  made  the  precedents 
and  established  the  usage,  and  who  must  therefore  be  the  best  and 
most  impartial  judges  of  the  subject. 

"  Ah,  Mr.  Pinch  ! "  said  Miss  Pecksniff.  "  It  all  comes  of  this  unfor- 
tunate marriage.  If  my  sister  had  not  been  so  precipitate,  and  had  not 
united  herself  to  a  Wretch,  there  would  have  been  no  Mr.  Chuffey  in  the 
house." 

"  Hush  !"  cried  Tom.     "  She  11  hear  you." 

"  I  should  be  very  sorry  if  she  did  hear  me,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Cherry, 
raising  her  voice  a  little  :  "  for  it  is  not  in  my  nature  to  add  to  the  un- 
easiness of  any  person  :  far  less  of  my  own  sister.  /  know  what  a 
sister's  duties  are,  Mr.  Pinch,  and  I  hope  I  always  showed  it  in  my 
practice.  Augustus,  my  dear  child,  find  my  pocket-handkerchief,  and 
give  it  to  me." 

Augustus  obeyed,  and  took  Mrs.  Todgers  aside  to  pour  his  griefs  into 
her  friendly  bosom. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  531 

"I  am  sure,  Mr.  Pinch,"  said  Charity,  looking  after  her  betrothed 
and  glancing  at  her  sister,  "  that  I  ought  to  be  very  grateful  for  the  bless- 
ings I  enjoy,  and  those  which  are  yet  in  store  for  me.  When  I  contrast 
Augustus  " — here  she  was  modest  and  embarrassed — '•  who,  I  don't  mind 
saying  to  you,  is  all  softness,  mildness,  and  devotion,  with  the  detestable 
man  who  is  my  sister's  husband  ;  and  when  I  think,  Mr.  Pinch,  that  in 
the  dispensations  of  this  world,  our  cases  might  have  been  reversed  ;  I 
have  much  to  be  thankful  for,  indeed,  and  much  to  make  me  humble 
and  contented." 

Contented  she  might  have  been,  but  humble  she  assuredly  was  not. 
Her  face  and  manner  experienced  something  so  widely  different  from 
humility,  that  Tom  could  not  help  understanding  and  despising  the 
base  motives  that  were  working  in  her  breast.  He  turned  away,  and 
said  to  Ptutli,  that  it  was  time  for  them  to  go. 

"  I  will  write  to  your  husband,"  said  Tom  to  Merry,  "  and  explain  to 
him,  as  I  would  have  done  if  I  had  met  him  here,  that  if  he  has  sus- 
tained any  inconvenience  through  my  means,  it  is  not  my  fault  :  a 
postman  not  being  more  innocent  of  the  news  he  brings  than  I  was  when 
I  handed  him  that  letter." 

"I  thank  you!"  said  Merry.  "It  may  do  some  good.  Heaven 
bless  you  !" 

She  parted  tenderly  from  Ruth,  who  with  her  brother  was  in  the  act 
of  leaving  the  room,  when  a  key  was  heard  in  the  lock  of  the  door 
below,  and  immediately  afterwards  a  quick  footstep  in  the  passage.  Tom 
stopped,  and  looked  at  Merry. 

It  was  Jonas,  she  said  timidly. 

"  I  had  better  not  meet  him  on  the  stairs,  perhaps,"  said  Tom,  draw- 
ing his  sister's  arm  through  his,  and  coming  back  a  step  or  two.  "I'll 
wait  for  him  here  a  moment." 

He  had  scarcely  said  it,  when  the  door  opened,  and  Jonas  entered. 
His  wife  came  forward  to  receive  him ;  but  he  put  her  aside  with  his 
hand,  and  said  in  a  surly  tone  : 

"  I  didn't  know  you'd  got  a  party." 

As  he  looked,  at  the  same  time,  either  by  accident  or  design,  towards 
Miss  Pecksniff;  and  as  Miss  Pecksniff  was  only  too  delighted  to  quarrel 
with  him,  she  instantly  resented  it. 

"  Oh  dear  !"  she  said,  rising.  "Pray  don't  let  us  intrude  upon  your 
domestic  happiness  1  That  would  be  a  pity.  We  have  taken  tea  here, 
sir,  in  your  absence  ;  but  if  you  will  have  the  goodness  to  send  us  a 
note  of  the  expense,  receipted,  we  shall  be  happy  to  pay  it.  Augustus, 
my  love,  we  will  go,  if  you  please.  Mrs.  Todgers,  unless  you  wish  to 
remain  here,  we  shall  be  happy  to  take  you  with  us.  It  would  be  a  pity, 
indeed,  to  spoil  the  bliss  which  this  gentleman  always  brings  with  him  : 
especially  into  his  own  home." 

"  Charity  1  Charity  1"  remonstrated  her  sister,  in  such  a  heartfelt  tone 
that  she  might  have  been  imploring  her  to  show  the  cardinal  virtue 
whose  name  she  bore. 

"  Merry,  my  dear,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  your  advice,"  returned 
Miss  Pecksniff,  with  a  stately  scorn  :  by  the  way,   she  had  not  been 

offered  any  :  "  but  /  am  not  his  slave " 

M  M  2 


532  LIFE     AND     ADVENTURES     OP 

"  No,  nor  wouldn't  have  been  if  you  could,"  interrupted  Jonas.  "We 
know  all  about  it." 

"  What  did  you  say,  sir?"  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  sharply. 

"  Didn't  you  bear  ?"  retorted  Jonas,  lounging  down  upon  a  cbair.  "  I 
am  not  a-going  to  say  it  again.  If  you  like  to  stay,  you  may  stay.  If 
you  like  to  go,  you  may  go.     But  if  you  stay,  please  to  be  civil." 

"  Beast  !"  cried  Miss  Pecksniff,  sweeping  past  him.  "  Augustus  !  He 
is  beneath  your  notice  !"  Augustus  had  been  making  some  faint  and 
sickly  demonstration  of  shaking  his  fist.  "  Come  away,  child,"  screamed 
Miss  Pecksniff,  "  I  command  you  !" 

The  scream  was  elicited  from  her  by  Augustus  manifesting  an  inten- 
tion to  return  and  grapple  with  him.  But  Miss  Pecksniff  giving  the 
fiery  youth  a  pull,  and  Mrs.  Todgers  giving  him  a  push,  they  all  three 
tumbled  out  of  the  room  together,  to  the  music  of  Miss  Pecksniff's  shrill 
remonstrances. 

All  this  time,  Jonas  had  seen  nothing  of  Tom  and  his  sister  ;  for  they 
were  almost  behind  the  door  when  he  opened  it,  and  he  had  sat  down 
with  his  back  towards  them,  and  had  purposely  kept  his  eyes  upon  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street  during  his  altercation  with  Miss  Pecksniff,  in 
order  that  his  seeming  carelessness  might  increase  the  exasperation  of 
that  wronged  young  damsel.  His  wife  now  faltered  out  that  Tom  had 
been  waiting  to  see  him  ;  and  Tom  advanced. 

The  instant  he  presented  himself,  Jonas  leaped  up  from  his  chair,  and 
swearing  a  great  oath,  caught  it  in  his  grasp,  as  if  he  would  have  felled 
Tom  to  the  ground  with  it.  As  he  most  unquestionably  would  have 
done,  but  that  his  very  passion  and  surprise  made  him  irresolute,  and 
gave  Tom,  in  his  calmness,  an  opportunity  of  being  heard. 

"  You  have  no  cause  to  be  violent,  sir,"  said  Tom.  "  Though  what  I 
wish  to  say  relates  to  your  own  affairs,  I  know  nothing  of  them,  and 
desire  to  know  nothing  of  them." 

Jonas  was  too  enraged  to  speak.  He  held  the  door  open ;  and 
stamping  his  foot  upon  the  ground,  motioned  Tom  away. 

"  As  you  cannot  suppose,"  said  Tom,  "  that  I  am  here,  with  any  view 
of  conciliating  you  or  pleasing  myself,  I  am  quite  indifferent  to  your 
reception  of  me,  or  your  dismissal  of  me.  Hear  what  I  have  to  say,  if 
you  are  not  a  madman.  I  gave  you  a  letter  the  other  day,  when  you 
were  about  to  go  abroad." 

"  You  Thief,  you  did  !"  retorted  Jonas.  "  I  '11  pay  you  for  the  carriage 
of  it  one  day,  and  settle  an  old  score  besides.     I  will." 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Tom,  "  you  needn't  waste  foul  words  or  idle  threats. 
I  wish  you  to  understand ;  plainly  because  I  would  rather  keep  clear 
of  you  and  everything  that  concerns  you  :  not  because  I  have  the  least 
apprehension  of  your  doing  me  any  injury  :  which  would  be  weak 
indeed ;  that  I  am  no  party  to  the  contents  of  that  letter.  That  I 
know  nothing  of  it.  That  I  was  not  even  aware  that  it  was  to  be 
delivered  to  you  ;  and  that  I  had  it  from " 

"  By  the  Lord  1"  cried  Jonas,  fiercely  catching  up  the  chair,  "  I  'II 
knock  your  brains  out,  if  you  speak  another  word." 

Tom,  nevertheless,  persisting  in  his  intention,  and  opening  his  lips  to 
speak  again,  Jonas  set  upon  him  like  a  savage ;  and  in  the  quickness 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  533 

and  ferocity  of  his  attack  would  have  surely  done  him  some  grievous 
injury,  defenceless  as  he  was,  and  embarrassed  by  having  his  frightened 
sister  clinging  to  his  arm,  if  Merry  had  not  run  between  them,  crying 
to  Tom  for  the  love  of  Heaven  to  leave  the  house.  The  agony  of  this 
poor  creature,  the  terror  of  his  sister,  the  impossibility  of  making  him- 
self audible,  and  the  equal  impossibility  of  bearing  up  against  Mrs. 
Gamp,  who  threw  herself  upon  him  like  a  feather-bed,  and  forced  him 
backwards  down  the  stairs  by  the  mere  oppression  of  her  dead-weight, 
prevailed.  Tom  shook  the  dust  of  that  house  off  his  feet,  without 
having  mentioned  Nadgett's  name. 

If  the  name  could  have  passed  his  lips  ;  if  Jonas,  in  the  insolence  of 
his  vile  nature,  had  never  roused  him  to  do  that  old  act  of  manliness, 
for  which  (and  not  for  his  last  offence)  he  hated  him  with  such  malignity  ; 
if  Jonas  could  have  learned,  as  then  he  could  and  would  have  learned, 
through  Tom's  means,  what  unsuspected  spy  there  was  upon  him  ;  he 
would  have  been  saved  from  the  commission  of  a  Guilty  Deed,  then 
drawing  on  towards  its  black  accomplishment.  But  the  fatality  was  of 
his  own  working  ;  the  pit  was  of  his  own  digging  ;  the  gloom  that 
gathered  round  him,  was  the  shadow  of  his  own  life. 

His  wife  had  closed  the  door,  and  thrown  herself  before  it,  on  the 
ground,  upon  her  knees.  She  held  up  her  hands  to  him  now,  and 
besought  him  not  to  be  harsh  with  her,  for  she  had  interposed  in  fear 
of  bloodshed. 

"  So,  so  ! "  said  Jonas,  looking  down  upon  her,  as  he  fetched  his 
breath.  "  These  are  your  friends,  are  they,  when  I  am  away  ?  You 
plot  and  tamper  with  this  sort  of  people,  do  you  1 " 

"  No,  indeed  !  I  have  no  knowledge  of  these  secrets,  and  no  clue  to 
their  meaning.  I  have  never  seen  him  since  I  left  home  but  once — but 
twice — before  to-day." 

"  Oh  !  "  sneered  Jonas,  catching  at  this  correction.  "  But  once,  but 
twice,  eh  ?  Which  do  you  mean  *?  Twice  and  once,  perhaps.  Three 
times  !     How  many  more,  you  lying  jade  ?" 

As  he  made  an  angry  motion  with  his  hand,  she  shrunk  down  hastily. 
A  suggestive  action  !     Full  of  a  cruel  truth  ! 

"  How  many  more  times "?  "  he  repeated. 

"  No  more.     The  other  morning,  and  to-day,  and  once  besides." 

He  was  about  to  retort  upon  her,  when  the  clock  struck.  He 
started,  stopped,  and  listened  :  appearing  to  revert  to  some  engage- 
ment, or  to  some  other  subject,  a  secret  within  his  own  breast,  recalled 
to  him  by  this  record  of  the  progress  of  the  hours. 

"  Don't  lie  there.     Get  up  I  " 

Having  helped  her  to  rise,  or  rather  hauled  her  up  by  the  arm,  he 
went  on  to  say: 

"  Listen  to  me,  young  lady ;  and  don't  whine  when  you  have  no  occa- 
sion, or  I  may  make  some  for  you.  If  I  find  him  in  my  house  again, 
or  find  that  you  have  seen  him  in  anybody  else's  house,  you  '11  repent 
it.  If  you  are  not  deaf  and  dumb  to  everything  that  concerns  me, 
unless  you  have  my  leave  to  hear  and  speak,  you  '11  repent  it.  If  you 
don't  obey  exactly  what  I  order,  you  11  repent  it.  Now,  attend.  Wh  it 's 
the  time  1 " 

"  It  struck  Eight  a  minute  ago." 


534  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

He  looked  towards  lier  intently ;  and  said,  v/ith  a  laboured  distinctness, 
as  if  he  had  got  the  words  off  by  heart  : 

"  I  have  been  travelling  day  and  night,  and  am  tired.  I  have  lost  some 
money,  and  that  don't  improve  me.  Put  my  supper  in  the  little  off- 
room  below,  and  have  the  truckle-bed  made.  I  shall  sleep  there  to-night, 
and  maybe  to-morrow  night  ;  and  if  I  can  sleep  all  day  to-morrow,  so 
much  the  better,  for  I  've  got  trouble  to  sleep  off,  if  I  can.  Keep  the 
house  quiet,  and  don't  call  me.  Mind  !  Don't  call  me.  Don't  let 
anybody  call  me.     Let  me  lie  there." 

She  said  it  should  be  done.     Was  that  all  1 

"  What !  you  must  be  prying  and  questioning  1 "  he  angrily  retorted. 
"^What  more  do  you  want  to  know  1 " 

"  I  want  to  know  nothing,  Jonas,  but  what  you  tell  me.  All  hope  of 
confidence  between  us,  has  long  deserted  me." 

"  Bcod,  I  should  hope  so  !  "  he  muttered. 

"  But  if  you  will  tell  me  what  you  wish,  I  will  be  obedient,  and  will 
try  to  please  you.  I  make  no  merit  of  that,  for  I  have  no  friend  in  my 
father  or  my  sister,  but  am  quite  alone.  I  am  very  humble  and  sub- 
missive. You  told  me  you  would  break  mj  spirit,  and  you  have  done 
so.    Do  not  break  my  heart  too  ! " 

She  ventured,  as  she  said  these  words,  to  lay  her  hand  upon  his 
shoulder.  He  suffered  it  to  rest  there,  in  his  exultation  ;  and  the  whole 
mean,  abject,  sordid,  pitiful  soul  of  the  man,  looked  at  her,  for  the 
moment,  through  his  wicked  eyes. 

For  the  moment  only :  for,  with  the  same  hurried  return  to  something 
within  himself,  he  bade  her,  in  a  surly  tone,  show  her  obedience  by  exe- 
cuting his  commands  without  delay.  When  she  had  withdrawn,  he  paced 
up  and  down  the  room  several  times  ;  but  always  with  his  right  hand 
clenched,  as  if  it  held  something;  which  it  did  not,  being  empty.  When 
he  was  tired  of  this,  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  thoughtfully  turned 
up  the  sleeve  of  his  right  arm,  as  if  he  were  rather  musing  about  its 
strength  than  examining  it ;  but  even  then,  he  kept  the  hand  clenched. 

He  was  brooding  in  this  chair,  with  his  eyes  cast  down  upon  the 
ground,  when  Mrs.  Gamp  came  in  to  tell  him  that  the  little  room  was 
ready.  Not  being  quite  sure  of  her  reception  after  interfering  in  the 
quarrel,  Mrs.  Gamp,  as  a  means  of  interesting  and  propitiating  her 
patron,  affected  a  deep  solicitude  in  Mr.  Chuffey. 

"  How  is  he  now,  sir?"  she  said. 

"WhoT'  cried  Jonas,  raising  his  head,  and  staring  at  her. 

"To  be  sure?"  returned  the  matron  with  a  smile  and  a  curtsey. 
"  What  am  I  a  thinking  of  !  You  wasn't  here,  sir,  when  he  was  took  so 
strange.  I  never  see  a  poor  dear  creetur  took  so  strange  in  all  my  life, 
except  a  patient  much  about  the  same  age,  as  I  once  nussed,  which  his 
calling  was  the  custom-'us,  and  his  name  was  Mrs.  Harris's  own 
father,  as  pleasant  a  singer,  J\Ir.  Chuzzlewlt,  as  ever  you  heerd,  with  a 
voice  like  a  Jew's-harp  in  the  bass  notes,  that  it  took  six  men  to  hold 
at  sech  times,  foaming  frightful." 

"  Chuffey,  eh  1"  said  Jonas  carelessly,  seeing  that  she  went  up  to  the 
old  clerk,  and  looked  at  him.     "  Ha  !" 

"  The  creetur's  head  's  so  hot,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  that  you  might  eat  a 
ilat-iron  at  it.  And  no  wonder,  I  am  sure,considerin'  the  things  he  said!" 


MARTIN    CHXJZZLEWIT.  535 

«  Said  !"  cried  Jonas.     "  What  did  he  say  1 " 

Mrs.  Gamp  laid  her  hand  upon  her  heart,  to  put  some  check  upon 
its  palpitations,  and  turning  up  her  eyes  replied  in  a  faint  voice  : 

"  The  awfuUest  things,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  ever  I  heerd  !  Which  Mrs. 
Harris's  father  never  spoke  a  word  when  took  so,  some  does  and  some 
don't,  except  sayin'  when  he  come  round,  '  Where  is  Sairey  Gamp  1 ' 
But  raly,  sir,  when  Mr.  Chuffey  comes  to  ask  who's  lyin'  dead  upstairs^ 
and " 

"Who's  lying  dead  up-stairs  !"  repeated  Jonas,  standing  aghast. 

Mrs.  Gamp  nodded,  made  as  if  she  were  swallowing,  and  went  on. 

"  Who 's  lying  dead  up  stairs;  sech  was  his  Bible  language  ;  and  where 
was  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  as  had  the  only  son  ;  and  when  he  goes  up  stairs 
a  looking  in  the  beds  and  wandering  about  the  rooms,  and  comes  down 
again  a  whisperin'  softly  to  his-self  about  foul  play  and  that;  it  give  me 
sich  a  turn,  I  don't  deny  it,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  that  I  never  coUld  have 
kep  myself  up  but  for  a  little  drain  o'  spirits,  which  I  seldom  touches, 
but  could  always  wish  to  know  where  to  find,  if  so  dispoged,  never 
knowin'  wot  may  happen  next,  the  world  bein'  so  uncertain." 

"Why,  the  old  fool 's  mad  !"  cried  Jonas,  much  disturbed. 

"  That 's  my  opinion,  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  and  I  will  not  deceive 
you.  I  believe  as  Mr.  Chuffey,  sir,  rekwires  attention  (if  I  may  make 
so  bold),  and  should  not  have  his  liberty  to  wex  and  worrit  your  sweet 
lady  as  he  does." 

"  Why,  who  minds  what  he  says  ?  "  retorted  Jonas. 

"  Still  he  is  worritin  sir,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  No  one  don't  mind  him, 
but  he  is  a  ill  conwenience." 

"  Ecod  you  're  right,"  said  Jonas,  looking  doubtfully  at  the  subject  of 
this  conversation.     "  I  have  half  a  mind  to  shut  him  up." 

Mrs.  Gamp  rubbed  her  hands,  and  smiled,  and  shook  her  head,  and 
sniffed  expressively,  as  scenting  a  job. 

"  Could  you — could  you  take  care  of  such  an  idiot,  now,  in  some 
spare  room  up  stairs  'I  "  asked  Jonas. 

"  Me  and  a  friend  of  mine,  one  off,  one  on,  could  do  it,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit," 
replied  the  nurse ;  "  our  charges  not  bein'  high,  but  wishin'  they  was 
lower,  and  allowance  made  considerin'  not  strangers.  Me  and  Betsey 
Prig,  sir,  would  undertake  Mr.  Chuffey,  reasonable,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
looking  at  him  with  her  head  on  one  side,  as  if  he  had  been  a  piece  of 
goods,  for  which  she  was  driving  a  bargain  ;  "  and  give  every  satige- 
faction.  Betsey  Prig  has  nussed  a  many  lunacies,  and  well  she  knows 
their  ways,  which  puttin'  'em  right  close  afore  the  fire,  when  fractious, 
is  the  certainest  and  most  compoging." 

While  Mrs.  Gamp  discoursed  to  this  effect,  Jonas  was  walking  up 
and  down  the  room  again  :  glancing  covertly  at  the  old  clerk,  as  he  did 
so.     He  now  made  a  stop,  and  said  : 

"  I  must  look  after  him,  I  suppose,  or  I  may  have  him  doing  some 
mischief.     What  say  you  1  " 

"  Nothin'  more  likely  !  "  Mrs.  Gamp  replied.  "  As  well  I  have 
experienged,  I  do  assure  you,  sir." 

"  Well  !  Look  after  him,  for  the  present,  and — let  me  see — three 
'd^ys  from  this  time  let  the  other  woman  come  here,  and  we  '11  see  if 


536  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

we  can  make  a  bargain  of  it.  •  About  nine  or  ten  o'clock  at  niglit,  say. 
Keep  your  eye  upon  him  in  the  meanwhile,  and  don't  talk  about  it. 
He 's  as  mad  as  a  March  hare  !  " 

"  Madder  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.     "  A  deal  madder  !  " 

"  See  to  him,  then  ;  take  care  that  he  does  no  harm  ;  and  recollect 
what  I  have  told  you." 

Leaving  Mrs.  Gamp  in  the  act  of  repeating  all  she  had  been  told,  and 
of  producing  in  support  of  her  memory  and  trustworthiness,  many 
commendations  selected  from  among  the  most  remarkable  opinions  of 
the  celebrated  Mrs.  Harris,  he  descended  to  the  little  room  prepared  for 
him,  and  pulling  off  his  coat  and  his  boots,  put  them  outside  the  door 
before  he  locked  it.  In  locking  it,  he  was  careful  so  to  adjust  the  key,  as- 
to  baffle  any  curious  person  who  might  try  to  peep  in  through  the  keyhole;, 
and  when  he  had  taken  these  precautions,  he  sat  down  to  his  supper. 

"  Mr.  Chuff,"  he  muttered,  "  it'll  be  pretty  easy  to  be  even  with  you^ 
It's  of  no  use  doing  things  by  halves,  and  as  long  as  I  stop  here,  I'll  take- 
good  care  of  you.  When  I  am  off,  you  may  say  what  you  please.  But 
its  a  d — d  strange  thing,"  he  added,  pushing  away  his  untouched  plate, 
and  striding  moodily  to  and  fro,  "  that  his  drivellings  should  have  taken 
this  turn  just  now." 

After  pacing  the  little  room  from  end  to  end  several  times,  he  sat 
down  in  another  chair. 

"I  say  just  now,  but  for  anything  I  know,  he  may  have  been  carry- 
ing on  the  same  game  all  along.     Old  dog  !     He  shall  be  gagged  !" 

He  paced  the  room  again  in  the  same  restless  and  unsteady  way  ; 
and  then  sat  down  upon  the  bedstead,  leaning  his  chin  upon  his  hand, 
and  looking  at  the  table.  When  he  had  looked  at  it  for  a  long  time, 
he  remembered  his  supper  ;  and  resuming  the  chair  he  had  first  occu- 
pied, began  to  eat  with  great  rapacity  :  not  like  a  hungry  man,  but  as 
if  he  were  determined  to  do  it.  He  drank  too,  roundly  ;  sometimes, 
stopping  in  the  middle  of  a  draught  to  walk,  and  change  his  seat  and 
walk  again,  and  dart  back  to  the  table  and  fall  to,  in  a  ravenous  hurry, 
as  before. 

It  was  now  growing  dark.  As  the  gloom  of  evening,  deepening 
into  night,  came  on,  another  dark  shade  emerging  from  within  him 
seemed  to  overspread  his  face,  and  slowly  change  it.  Slowly,  slowly  :, 
darker  and  darker  ;  more  and  more  haggard ;  creeping  over  him  by 
little  and  little;  until  it  was  black  night  within  him  and  without. 

The  room  in  which  he  had  shut  himself  up,  was  on  the  ground-floor, 
at  the  back  of  the  house.  It  was  lighted  by  a  dirty  skylight,  and  had  a 
door  in  the  wall,  opening  into  a  narrow  covered  passage  or  blind-alley, 
very  little  frequented  after  five  or  six  o'clock  in  the  evening,  and  not 
in  much  use  as  a  thoroughfare  at  any  hour.  But  it  had  an  outlet  in 
a  neiojhbourino:  street. 

The  ground  on  which  this  chamber  stood,  had,  at  one  time,  not 
within  his  recollection,  been  a  yard  ;  and  had  been  converted  to  its- 
present  purpose,  for  use  as  an  office.  But  the  occasion  for  it,  died  with 
the  man  who  built  it  :  and  savinsf  that  it  had  sometimes  served  as- 
an  apology  for  a  spare  bed-room,  and  that  the  old  clerk  had  once  held 
it  (but  that  was  years  ago)  as  his  recognised  apartment  3   it  had  been 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  537 

little  troubled  by  Antliony  Chuzzlewit  and  Son.  It  was  a  blotched, 
stained,  mouldering  room,  like  a  vault ;  and  there  were  water-pipes 
running  through  it,  which  at  unexpected  times  in  the  night,  when  other 
things  were  quiet,  clicked  and  gurgled  suddenly,  as  if  they  were  choking. 

The  door  into  the  court  had  not  been  opened  for  a  long,  long  time  ; 
but  the  key  had  always  hung  in  one  place,  and  there  it  hung  now.  He 
was  prepared  for  its  being  rusty ;  for  he  had  a  little  bottle  of  oil  in  his 
pocket  and  the  feather  of  a  pen,  with  which  he  lubricated  the  key,  and 
the  lock  too,  carefully.  All  this  while  he  had  been  without  his  coat,  and 
had  nothing  on  his  feet  but  his  stockings.  He  now  got  softly  into  bed, 
in  the  same  state,  and  tossed  from  side  to  side  to  tumble  it.  In  his  restless 
condition,  that  was  easily  done. 

When  he  arose,  he  took  from  his  portmanteau,  which  he  had  caused  to 
be  carried  into  that  place  when  he  came  home,  a  pair  of  clumsy  shoes, 
and  put  them  on  his  feet ;  also  a  pair  of  leather  leggings,  such  as 
countrymen  are  used  to  wear,  with  straps  to  fasten  them  to  the  waist- 
band ;  in  which  he  dressed  himself  at  leisure.  Lastly,  he  took  out  a 
common  frock  of  coarse  dark  jean,  which  he  drew  over  his  own  under- 
clothing; and  a  felc  hat — he  had  purposely  left  his  own  upstairs.  He 
then  sat  down  by  the  door,  with  the  key  in  his  hand  :  waiting. 

He  had  no  light ;  the  time  was  dreary,  long,  and  awful.  The  ringers 
were  practising  in  a  neighbouring  church,  and  the  clashing  of  the  bells 
was  almost  maddening.  Curse  the  clamouring  bells,  they  seemed  to 
know  that  he  was  listening  at  the  door,  and  to  proclaim  it  in  a  crowd  of 
voices  to  all  the  town.     Would  they  never  be  still  ? 

They  ceased  at  last ;  and  then  the  silence  was  so  new  and  terrible 
that  it  seemed  the  prelude  to  some  dreadful  noise.  Footsteps  in  the^ 
court  !  Two  men.  He  fell  back  from  the  door  on  tiptoe,  as  if  they 
could  have  seen  him  through  its  wooden  panels. 

They  passed  on,  talking  (he  could  make  out)  about  a  skeleton  which 
had  been  dug  up  yesterday,  in  some  work  of  excavation  near  at  hand,  and 
was  supposed  to  be  that  of  a  murdered  man.  "  So  murder  is  not  always 
found  out,  you  see,"  they  said  to  one  another  as  they  turned  the  corner. 

Hush  ! 

He  put  the  key  into  the  lock,  and  turned  it.  The  door  resisted  for  a 
while,  but  soon  came  stiffly  open :  mingling  with  the  sense  of  fever  in  his 
mouth,  a  taste  of  rust,  and  dust,  and  earth,  and  rotting  wood.  He  looked 
out ;  passed  out ;  locked  it  after  him. 

All  was  clear  and  quiet,  as  he  fled  away. 


CHAPTER  XLVII. 


CONCLUSION    OF    THE    ENTERPRISE    OF    3IR.  JONAS    AND    HIS    FRIEND. 

Did  no  men  passing  through  the  dim  streets  shrink  without  knowing 
why,  when  he  came  stealing  up  behind  them  1  As  he  glided  on,  had  no 
child  in  its  sleep  an  indistinct  perception  of  a  guilty  shadow  falling  on 
its  bed,  that  troubled  its  innocent  rest  ?  Did  no  dog  howl,  and  strive 
to  break  its  rattling  chain,  that  it  might  tear  him  j  no  burrowing  rat^ 


538  LIFE    AND    ADVENl'URES    OF 

scenting  the  work  he  had  in  hand,  essay  to  gnaw  a  passage  after  him, 
that  it  might  hold  a  greedy  revel  at  the  feast  of  his  providing  1  When  he 
looked  back,  across  his  shoulder,  was  it  to  see  if  his  quick  footsteps  still 
fell  dry  upon  the  dusty  pavement,  or  were  already  moist  and  clogged 
with  the  red  mire  that  stained  the  naked  feet  of  Gain  ! 

He  shaped  his  course  for  the  main  w^estern  road,  and  soon  reached  it : 
riding  a  part  of  the  way,  then  alighting  and  walking  on  again.  He 
travelled  for  a  considerable  distance  upon  the  roof  of  a  stage-coach,  which 
came  up  while  he  was  a-foot ;  and  when  it  turned  out  of  his  road, 
bribed  the  driver  of  a  return  post-chaise  to  take  him  on  with  him  ;  and 
then  made  across  the  country  at  a  run,  and  saved  a  mile  or  two  before 
he  struck  again  into  the  road.  At  last,  as  his  plan  was,  he  came  up 
with  a  certain  lumbering,  slow,  night-coach,  which  stopped  wherever  it 
could,  and  was  stopping  then  at  a  public-house,  while  the  guard  and 
coachman  ate  and  drank  within. 

He  bargained  for  a  seat  outside  this  coach,  and  took  it.  And  he 
quitted  it  no  more  until  it  was  within  a  few  miles  of  its  destination, 
but  occupied  the  same  place  all  night. 

All  night  !  It  is  a  common  fancy  that  nature  seems  to  sleep  by 
night.     It  is  a  false  fancy,  as  who  should  know  better  than  he  ? 

The  fishes  slumbered  in  the  cold,  bright,  glistening  streams  and 
rivers,  perhaps  ;  and  the  birds  roosted  on  the  branches  of  the  trees  j 
and  in  their  stalls  and  pastures  beasts  were  quiet ;  and  human  creatures 
slept.  But  what  of  that,  when  the  solemn  night  was  watching,  when  it 
never  winked,  when  its  darkness  watched  no  less  than  its  light  1  The 
stately  trees,  the  moon,  and  shining  stars,  the  softly  stirring  wind,  the 
over-shadowed  lane,  the  broad,  bright  country-side,  they  all  kept  watch. 
There  w^as  not  a  blade  of  growing  grass  or  corn,  but  w^atched  ;  and  the 
quieter  it  was,  the  more  intent  and  fixed  its  watch  upon  him  seemed  to  be. 

And  yet  he  slept.  Riding  on  among  these  sentinels  of  Grod,  he  slept, 
and  did  not  change  the  purpose  of  his  journey.  If  he  forgot  it  in  his 
troubled  dreams,  it  came  up  steadily,  and  woke  him.  But  it  never  woke 
him  to  remorse,  or  to  abandonment  of  his  design. 

He  dreamed  at  one  time  that  he  was  lying  calmly  in  his  bed,  thinking 
of  a  moonlight  night  and  the  noise  of  wheels,  when  the  old  clerk  put 
his  head  in  at  the  door,  and  beckoned  him.  At  this  signal  he  rose 
immediately  :  being  already  dressed,  in  the  clothes  he  actually  wore  at 
that  time  :  and  accompanied  him  into  a  strange  city,  where  the  names 
of  the  streets  were  written  on  the  walls  in  characters  quite  new  to  him  ; 
which  gave  him  no  surprise  or  uneasiness,  for  he  remembered  in  his 
dream  to  have  been  there  before.  Although  these  streets  were  very 
precipitous,  insomuch  that  to  get  from  one  to  another,  it  was  necessary  to 
descend  great  heights  by  ladders  that  were  too  short,  and  ropes  that  moved 
deep  bells,  and  swung  and  swayed  as  they  were  clung  to,  the  danger  gave 
him  little  emotion  beyond  the  first  thrill  of  terror ;  his  anxieties  being 
concentrated  on  his  dress,  which  was  quite  unfitted  for  some  festival  that 
w^as  about  to  be  holden  there,  and  in  which  he  had  come  to  take  a  part. 
Already,  great  crowds  began  to  fill  the  streets,  and  in  one  direction 
myriads  of  people  came  rushing  down  an  interminable  perspective 
strewing  flowers  and  making  way  for  others  on  white  horses,  when   a 


MARTIN    CHTJZZLEWIT.  539 

terrible  fii^ure  started  from  the  throne;,  and  cried  out  that  it  was  the  Last 
Day  for  all  the  world.  The  crj  being  spread,  there  was  a  wild  hurry- 
ing on  to  Judgment ;  and  the  press  became  so  great  that  he  and  his 
companion  (who  Avas  constantly  changing,  and  was  never  the  same  man 
two  minutes  to2;ether,  thouofh  he  never  saw  one  man  come  or  another 
go),  stood  aside  in  a  porch,  fearfully  surveying  the  multitude  ;  in  which 
there  were  many  faces  that  he  knew,  and  many  that  he  did  not  know,  but 
dreamed  he  did  ;  Avhen  all  at  once  a  struggling  head  rose  up  among 
the  rest — livid  and  deadly,  but  the  same  as  he  had  known  it — and 
denounced  him  as  having  appointed  that  direful  day  to  happen.  They 
closed  together.  As  he  strove  to  free  the  hand  in  which  he  held  a  club, 
and  strike  the  blow  he  had  so  often  thous^ht  of,  he  started  to  the  know- 
ledge  of  his  v/aking  purpose  and  the  rising  of  the  sun. 

The  sun  was  welcome  to  him.  There  were  life,  and  motion,  and  a 
world  astir,  to  divide  the  attention  of  Day.  It  was  the  eye  of  Night : 
of  wakeful,  watchful,  silent,  and  attentive  Night,  with  so  much  leisure 
for  the  observation  of  his  wicked  thoudits :  that  he  dreaded  most. 
There  is  no  glare  in  the  night.  Even  Glory  shews .  to  small  advantage 
in  the  night,  upon  a  crowded  battle-iield.  How  then  shows  Glory's 
blood-relation,  bastard  Murder ! 

Ay  !  He  made  no  compromise,  and  held  no  secret  with  himself  now. 
Murder  !     He  had  come  to  do  it. 

"  Let  me  get  down  here,"  he  said. 

"  Short  of  the  town,  eh  1 "  observed  the  coachman. 

"  I  may  get  down  where  I  please,  I  suppose." 

"  You  got  up  to  please  yourself,  and  may  get  down  to  please  yourself 
It  won't  break  our  hearts  to  lose  you,  and  it  wouldn't  have  broken 'em  if 
we  'd  never  found  you.     Be  a  little  quicker.     That 's  all." 

The  guard  had  alighted,  and  was  waiting  in  the  road  to  take  his 
money.  In  the  jealousy  and  distrust  of  what  he  contemplated,  he 
thought  this  man  looked  at  him  with  more  than  common  curiosity. 

"What  are  you  staring  at  V  said  Jonas. 

"  Not  at  a  handsome  man,"  returned  the  guard.  "  If  you  want  your 
fortune  told,  I  '11  tell  you  a  bit  of  it.  You  won't  be  drowned.  That 's 
a  consolation  for  you." 

Before  he  could  retort,  or  turn  away,  the  coachman  put  an  end  to  the 
dialogue  by  giving  him  a  cut  with  his  whip,  and  bidding  him  get  out 
for  a  surly  dog.  The  guard  jumped  up  to  his  seat  at  the  same  moment, 
and  ^they  drove  off,  laughing  ;  leaving  him  to  stand  in  the  road,  and 
shake  his  fist  at  them.  He  was  not  displeased  though,  on  second 
thoughts,  to  have  been  taken  for  an  ill-conditioned  common  country 
fellow ;  but  rather  congratulated  himself  upon  it  as  a  proof  that  he  was 
well  disguised. 

Wandering  into  a  copse  by  the  road-side — but  not  in  that  place  :  two 
or  three  miles  off — he  tore  out  from  a  fence  a  thick,  hard,  knotted  stake  ; 
and,  sitting  down  beneath  a  hay-rick,  spent  some  time  in  shaping  it,  in 
peeling  off  the  bark,  and  fashioning  its  jagged  head,  with  his  knife. 

The  day^'passed  on.    Noon,  afternoon,  evening.     Sunset. 

At  that  serene  and  peaceful  time  two  men,  riding  in  a  gig,  came  out 
•of  the  city  by  a  road  not  much  frequented.     It  was  the  day  on  which 


540  LIFE    AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

Mr.  Pecksniff  had  agreed  to  dine  with  Montague.  He  had  kept  his 
appointment,  and  was  now  going  home.  His  host  was  riding  with  him 
for  a  short  distance  ;  meaning  to  return  bj  a  pleasant  track,  which  Mr. 
Pecksniff  had  engaged  to  show  him,  through  some  fields.  Jonas  knew 
their  plans.  He  had  hung  about  the  Inn-yard  while  they  were  at 
dinnerj  and  had  heard  their  orders  given. 

They  were  loud  and  merry  in  their  conversation,  and  might  have  been 
heard  at  some  distance  ;  far  above  the  sound  of  their  carriage  wheels 
or  horse's  hoofs.  They  came  on  noisily,  to  where  a  stile  and  footpath 
indicated  their  point  of  separation.     Here  they  stopped. 

"  It 's  too  soon.  Much  too  soon,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  But  this  is 
the  place,  my  dear  sir.  Keep  the  path,  and  go  straight  through  the 
little  wood  you  '11  come  to.  The  path  is  narrower  there,  but  you  can't 
miss  it.     When  shall  I  see  you  again  ?     Soon,  I  hope  1 " 

"  I  hope  so,"  replied  Montague. 

«  Good-night ! " 

"  Good-night.     And  a  pleasant  ride  !  " 

So  long  as  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  in  sight,  and  turned  his  head,  at 
intervals,  to  salute  him,  Montague  stood  in  the  road  smiling,  and 
waving  his  hand.  But  when  his  new  partner  had  disappeared,  and  this 
show  was  no  longer  necessary,  he  sat  down  on  the  stile  with  looks  so 
altered,  that  he  might  have  grown  ten  years  older  in  the  meantime. 

He  was  flushed  with  wine,  but  not  gay.  His  scheme  had  suc- 
ceeded, but  he  shewed  no  triumph.  The  effort  of  sustaining  his 
difficult  part  before  his  late  companion,  had  fatigued  him,  perhaps, 
or  it  may  be,  that  the  evening  whispered  to  his  conscience,  or  it  may 
be  (as  it  has  been)  that  a  shadowy  veil  was  dropping  round  him,  closing- 
out  all  thoughts  but  the  presentiment  and  vague  foreknowledge  of 
impending  doom. 

If  there  be  fluids,  as  we  know  there  are,  which,  conscious  of  a  coming 
wind,  or  rain,  or  frost,  will  shrink  and  strive  to  hide  themselves  in  their 
glass  arteries  ;  may  not  that  subtle  liquor  of  the  blood  perceive  by  pro- 
perties within  itself,  that  hands  are  raised  to  waste  and  spill  it ;  and  in 
the  veins  of  men  run  cold  and  dull  as  his  did,  in  that  hour  ! 

So  cold,  although  the  air  was  warm  :  so  dull,  although  the  sky  was 
bright :  that  he  rose  up  shivering,  from  his  seat,  and  hastily  resumed 
his  walk.  He  checked  himself  as  hastily  :  undecided  whether  to  pur- 
sue the  footpath  which  was  lonely  and  retired,  or  to  go  back  by  the- 
road. 

He  took  the  footpath. 

The  glory  of  the  departing  sun  was  on  his  face.  The  music  of  the 
birds  was  in  his  eare.  Sweet  wild  flowers  bloomed  about  him.  Thatched 
roofs  of  poor  men's  homes  were  in  the  distance  ;  and  an  old  grey  spire 
surmounted  by  a  cross,  rose  up  between  him  and  the  coming  night. 

He  had  never  read  the  lesson  which  these  things  conveyed  ;  he  had 
ever  mocked  and  turned  away  from  it  ;  but  before  going  down  into  a 
hollow  place,  he  looked  round  once  upon  the  evening  prospect  sorrow- 
fully.    Then  he  went  down,  down,  down,  into  the  dell. 

It  brought  him  to  the  wood  ;  a  close,  thick,  shadowy  wood,  through 
which  the  path  went  winding  on,  dwindling  away  into  a  slender  sheep- 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  541 

track.  He  paused  before  entering  ;  for  the  stillness  of  this  spot  almost 
daunted  him. 

The  last  rays  of  the  sun  were  shining  in,  aslant,  making  a  path  of 
golden  light  along  the  stems  and  branches  in  its  range,  which  even  as  he 
looked  began  to  die  away  :  yielding  gently  to  the  twilight  that  came 
<;reeping  on.  It  was  so  very  quiet  that  the  soft  and  stealthy  moss  about 
the  trunks  of  some  old  trees,  seemed  to  have  grown  out  of  the  silence, 
and  to  be  its  proper  offspring.  Those  other  trees  which  were  subdued 
by  blasts  of  wind  in  winter  time,  had  not  quite  tumbled  down,  but  being 
oaught  by  others,  lay  all  bare  and  scathed  across  their  leafy  arms,  as  if 
unwilling  to  disturb  the  general  repose  by  the  crash  of  their  fall.  Vistas 
of  silence  opened  everywhere,  into  the  heart  and  innermost  recesses  of 
the  wood  :  beginning  with  the  likeness  of  an  aisle,  a  cloister,  or  a  ruin 
open  to  the  sky  ;  then  tangling  oiF  into  a  deep  green  rustling  mystery, 
through  which  gnarled  trunks,  and  twisted  boughs,  and  ivy-covered 
•stems,  and  trembling  leaves,  and  bark-stripped  bodies  of  old  trees 
stretched  out  at  length,  were  faintly  seen  in  beautiful  confusion. 

As  the  sunlight  died  away,  and  evening  fell  upon  the  Avood,  he 
entered  it.  Moving  here  and  there  a  bramble  or  a  drooping  bough  which 
stretched  across  his  path,  he  slowly  disappeared.  At  intervals  a  narrow 
opening  showed  him  passing  on,  or  the  sharp  cracking  of  some  tender 
branch  denoted  where  he  went :  then  he  was  seen  or  heard  no  more. 

Never  more  beheld  by  mortal  eye  or  heard  by  mortal  ear  :  one  man 
-excepted.  That  man,  parting  the  leaves  and  branches  on  the  other  side, 
near  where  the  path  emerged  again,  came  leaping  out  soon  afterwards. 

What  had  he  left  within  the  wood,  that  he  sprang  out  of  it,  as  if  it 
were  a  hell ! 

The  body  of  a  murdered  man.  In  one  thick  solitary  spot,  it  lay 
among  the  last  year's  leaves  of  oak  and  beech,  just  as  it  had  fallen 
headlong  down.  Sopping  and  soaking  in  among  the  leaves  that  formed 
its  pillow  ;  oozing  down  into  the  boggy  ground,  as  if  to  cover  itself  from 
liuman  sight ;  forcing  its  way  between  and  through  the  curling  leaves, 
as  if  those  senseless  things  rejected  and  foreswore  it,  and  were  coiled  up 
in  abhorrence  ;  went  a  dark,  dark  stain  that  dyed  and  scented  the 
whole  summer  night  from  earth  to  heaven. 

The  doer  of  this  deed  came  leaping  from  the  wood  so  fiercely,  that 
he  cast  into  the  air  a  shower  of  fragments  of  young  boughs,  torn  away 
in  his  passage,  and  fell  with  violence  upon  the  grass.  But  he  quickly 
gained  his  feet  again,  and  keeping  underneath  a  hedge  with  his  body 
bent,  went  running  on  towards  the  road.  The  road  once  reached,  he 
fell  into  a  rapid  walk,  and  set  on  towards  London. 

And  he  was  not  sorry  for  what  he  had  done.  He  was  frightened 
when  he  thought  of  it — when  did  he  not  think  of  it  ! — but  he  was  not 
sorry.  He  had  had  a  terror  and  dread  of  the  wood  when  he  was  in  it ; 
but  being  out  of  it,  and  having  committed  the  crime,  his  fears  were  now 
■diverted,  strangely,  to  the  dark  room  he  had  left  shut  up  at  home.  He 
had  a  greater  horror,  infinitely  greater,  of  that  room  than  of  the  wood. 
Now  that  he  was  on  his  return  to  it,  it  seemed  beyond  comparison  more 
dismal  and  more  dreadful  than  the  wood.     His  hideous  secret  was  shut 


54t2  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

up  in  the  room,  and  all  its  terrors  were  there ;  to  his  thinking  it*  was 
not  in  the  wood  at  all. 

He  walked  on  for  ten  miles  ;  and  then  stopped  at  an  alehouse  for  a 
coach;  which  he  knew  would  pass  through,  on  its  way  to  London,  before 
long ;  and  which  he  also  knew  was  not  the  coach  he  had  travelled  down 
by,  for  it  came  from  another  place.  He  sat  down  outside  the  door  here, 
on  a  bench,  beside  a  man  who  Avas  smoking  his  pipe.  Having  called  for 
some  beer,  and  drunk,  himself,  he  oifered  it  to  this  companion,  who 
thanked  him,  and  took  a  draught.  He  could  not  help  thinking  that,  if 
the  man  had  known  all,  he  might  scarcely  have  relished  drinking  out 
of  the  same  cup  with  him. 

"  A  fine  night,  master  !"  said  this  person.     "And  a  rare  sunset." 
"  I  didn't  see  it,"  was  his  hasty  answer. 
"Didn't  see  it?"  returned  the  man. 
"  How  the  devil  could  I  see  it,  if  I  was  asleep  ?" 
"Asleep!      Ay,  ay."      The  man  appeared  surprised  by  his  unex- 
pected irritability,  and  saying  no  more,  smoked  his  pipe  in  silence. 
They  had  not  sat  very  long,  when  there  was  a  knocking  within. 
"  What's  that?"  cried  Jonas. 
"  Can't  say,  I  'm  sure,"  replied  the  man. 

He  made  no  further  inquiry,  for  the  last  question  had  escaped  him, 
in  spite  of  himself  But  he  was  thinking,  at  the  moment,  of  the  closed- 
up  room  j  of  the  possibility  of  their  knocking  at  the  door  on  some  special 
occasion  ;  of  their  being  alarmed  at  receiving  no  answer  ;  of  their  burst- 
ing it  open ;  of  their  finding  the  room  empty ;  of  their  fastening  the 
door  into  the  court,  and  rendering  it  impossible  for  him  to  get  into  the 
house  without  shewing  himself  in  the  garb  he  wore  ;  which  would  lead 
to  rumour,  rumour  to  detection,  detection  to  death.  At  that  instant,  as 
if  by  some  design  and  order  of  circumstances,  the  knocking  had  come. 

It  still  continued ;  like  a  warning  echo  of  the  dread  reality  he  had 
conjured  up.  As  he  could  not  sit  and  hear  it,  he  paid  for  his  beer  and 
walked  on  again.  And  having  slunk  about,  in  places  unknown  to  him, 
all  day ;  and  being  out  at  night,  in  a  lonely  road,  in  an  unusual  dress, 
and  in  that  wandering  and  unsettled  frame  of  mind ;  he  stopped  more 
than  once  to  look  about  him,  hoping  he  might  be  in  a  dream. 

Still  he  was  not  sorry.  No.  He  had  hated  the  man  too  much,  and 
had  been  bent,  too  desperately  and  too  long,  on  setting  himself  free. 
If  the  thing  could  have  come  over  again,  he  would  have  done  it  again. 
His  malignant  and  revengeful  passions  were  not  so  easily  laid.  There 
was  no  more  penitence  or  remorse  within  him  now,  than  there  had  been 
while  the  deed  was  brewing. 

Dread  and  fear  were  upon  him.  To  an  extent  he  had  never 
counted  on,  and  could  not  manage  in  the  least  degree.  He  was  so  hor- 
ribly afraid  of  that  infernal  room  at  home.  This  made  him,  in  a 
gloomy,  murderous,  mad  way,  not  only  fearful, /or  himself  but  of  him- 
self ;  for  being,  as  it  were,  a  part  of  the  room  :  a  something  supposed  to 
be  there,  yet  missing  from  it :  he  invested  himself  M'ith  its  mysterious 
terrors  ;  and  when  he  pictured  in  his  mind  the  ugly  chamber,  false  and 
quiet,  false  and  quiet;  through  the  dark  hours  of  two  nights  ;  and  the 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.    '  543 

tumbled  bed,  and  he  not  in  it,  though  believed  to  be  ;  he  became  in  a 
manner  his  own  ghost  and  phantom,  and  was  at  once  the  haunting  spirit 
and  the  haunted  man. 

When  the  coach  came  up,  which  it  soon  did,  he  got  a  place  outside, 
and  was  carried  briskly  onw^ard  towards  home.  Now,  in  taking  his 
seat  among  the  people  behind,  who  were  chiefly  country  people,  he 
conceived  a  fear  that  they  knew  of  the  murder,  and  would  tell  him  that 
the  body  had  been  found ;  which,  considering  the  time  and  place  of  the 
commission  of  the  crime,  were  events  almost  impossible  to  have  happened 
yet,  as  he  very  well  knew\  But,  although  he  did  know  it,  and  had 
therefore  no  reason  to  regard  their  ignorance  as  anything  but  the  natural 
sequence  to  the  facts,  still  this  very  ignorance  of  theirs  encouraged  him. 
So  far  encouraged  him,  that  he  began  to  believe  the  body  never  would 
be  found,  and  began  to  speculate  on  that  probability.  Setting  off 
from  this  point ;  and  measuring  time  by  the  rapid  hurry  of  his  guilty 
thoughts,  and  what  had  gone  before  the  bloodshed,  and  the  troops  of 
incoherent  and  disordered  images,  of  which  he  was  the  constant  prey  ; 
he  came  by  daylight  to  regard  the  murder  as  an  old  murder,  and  to  think 
himself  comparatively  safe,  because  it  had  not  been  discovered  yet.  Yet  1 
"When  the  sun  w^hich  looked  into  the  wood,  and  gilded  with  its  rising 
light  a  dead  man's  face,  had  seen  that  man  alive,  and  sought  to  win  him 
to  one  thought  of  Heaven,  on  its  going  down  last  night ! 

But  here  were  London  streets  again.     Hush  ! 

It  was  but  five  o'clock.  He  had  time  enough  to  reach  his  own  house 
unobserved,  and  before  there  were  many  people  in  the  streets  ;  if  nothing- 
had  happened  so  far,  tending  to  his  discovery.  He  slipped  down  from 
the  coach  without  troubling  the  driver  to  stop  his  horses :  and  hurrying- 
across  the  road,  and  in  and  out  of  every  by-way  that  lay  near  his  course^ 
at  length  approached  his  own  dwelling.  He  used  additional  caution  in 
his  immediate  neighbourhood,  halting  first  to  look  all  down  the  street 
before  him  j  then  gliding  swiftly  through  that  one,  and  stopping  to 
survey  the  next ;  and  so  on. 

The  passage-way  w^as  empty  when  his  murderer's  face  looked  into  it. 
He  stole  on  to  the  door  on  tiptoe,  as  if  he  dreaded  to  disturb  his  own 
imaginary  rest. 

He  listened.  Not  a  sound.  As  he  turned  the  key  with  a  trembling 
hand,  and  pushed  the  door  softly  open  with  his  knee,  a  monstrous  fear 
beset  his  mind. 

What  if  the  murdered  man  were  there  before  him  ! 

He  cast  a  fearful  glance  all  round.     But  there  was  nothing  there. 

He  went  in,  locked  the  door,  drew  the  key  through  and  through  the 
dust  and  damp  in  the  fire-place  to  sully  it  again,  and  hung  it  up  as  of 
old.  He  took  oif  his  disguise,  tied  it  up  in  a  bundle  ready  for  carrying 
away  and  sinking  in  the  river  before  night,  and  locked  it  up  in  a  cup- 
board.    These  precautions  taken,  he  undressed,  and  went  to  bed. 

The  raging  thirst,  the  fire  that  burnt  within  him,  as  he  lay  beneath 
the  clothes  ;  the  augmented  horror  of  the  room,  when  they  shut  it  out 
from  his  view ;  the  agony  of  listening,  in  which  he  paid  enforced  regard 
to  every  sound,  and  thought  the  most  unlikely  one  the  prelude  to  that 
knocking  which  should  bring  the  news  ;  the  starts  wdth  which  he  left 


544  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

his  couch,  and  looking  in  the  glass,  imagined  that  his  deed  was  broadly 
written  in  his  face ;  and  lying  down  and  burying  himself  once  more 
beneath  the  blankets,  heard  his  own  heart  beating  Murder,  Murder, 
Murder,  in  the  bed.    What  words  can  paint  tremendous  truths  like  these ! 

The  morning  advanced.  There  were  footsteps  in  the  house.  He 
heard  the  blinds  drawn  up,  and  shutters  opened  ;  and  now  and  then  a 
stealthy  tread  outside  his  own  door.  He  tried  to  call  out  more  than 
once,  but  his  mouth  was  dry  as  if  it  had  been  filled  with  burning  sand. 
At  last  he  sat  up  in  his  bed,  and  cried, 

"  Who  's  there  !  " 

It  was  his  wife. 

He  asked  her  what  it  was  o'clock.     Nine. 

"  Did — did  no  one  knock  at  my  door,  yesterday  ? "  he  faltered. 
"  Something  disturbed  me  ;  but  unless  you  had  knocked  the  door  down, 
you  would  have  got  no  notice  from  me." 

"  No  one,"  she  replied.  That  was  well.  He  had  waited,  almost 
breathless,  for  her  answer.     It  was  a  relief  to  him,  if  anything  could  be. 

"  Mr.  Nadgett  wanted  to  see  you,"  she  said,  "  but  I  told  him  you 
were  tired,  and  had  requested  not  to  be  disturbed.  He  said  it  was  of  little 
consequence,  and  went  away.  As  I  was  opening  my  window,  to  let  in 
the  cool  air,  I  saw  him  passing  through  the  street  this  morning,  very 
early ;  but  he  hasn't  been  again." 

Passing  through  the  street  that  morning.  Very  early  !  Jonas 
trembled  at  the  thought  of  having  had  a  narrow  chance  of  seeing  him 
himself :  even  him,  who  had  no  object  but  to  avoid  people,  and  sneak 
on  unobserved,  and  keep  his  own  secrets  :  and  who  saw  nothing. 

He  called  to  her  to  get  his  breakfast  ready,  and  prepared  to  go  up 
stairs  :  attiring  himself  in  the  clothes  he  had  taken  off  when  he  came 
into  that  room,  which  had  been  ever  since  outside  the  door.  In  his 
secret  dread  of  meeting  the  household  for  the  first  time,  after  what  he 
had  done,  he  lingered  at  the  door  on  slight  pretexts  that  they  might  see 
him  without  looking  in  his  face ;  and  left  it  ajar  while  he  dressed  ;  and 
called  out  to  have  the  windows  opened,  and  the  pavement  watered,  that 
they  might  become  accustomed  to  his  voice.  Even  when  he  had  put  off 
the  time,  by  one  means  or  other,  so  that  he  had  seen  or  spoken  to  them 
all,  he  could  not  muster  courage  for  a  long  while  to  go  in  among  them, 
but  stood  at  his  own  door  listening:  to  the  murmur  of  their  distant  con- 
versation. 

He  could  not  stop  there  for  ever,  and  so  joined  them.  His  last  glance 
at  the  glass  had  seen  a  tell-tale  face,  but  that  might  have  been 
because  of  his  anxious  looking  in  it.  He  ^ared  not  look  at  them  to  see 
if  they  observed  him,  but  he  thought  them  very  silent. 

And  whatsoever  guard  he  kept  upon  himself,  he  could  not  help  listen- 
ing, and  showing  that  he  listened.  Whether  he  attended  to  their  talk, 
or  tried  to  think  of  other  things,  or  talked  himself,  or  held  his  peace,  or 
resolutely  counted  the  dull  tickings  of  a  hoarse  old  clock  at  his  back, 
he  always  lapsed,  as  if  a  spell  were  on  him,  into  eager  listening  :  for  he 
knew  it  must  come,  and  his  present  punishment,  and  torture,  and  dis- 
traction, was,  to  listen  for  its  coming. 

Hush! 


MARTIN    CHUZZLETVIT.  5i5 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

BEARS  TIDINGS  OF  MARTIN,  AND  OF  MARK,  AS  WELL  AS  OF  A  THIRD  PERSON 
NOT  QUITE  UNKNOWN  TO  THE  READER.  EXHIBITS  FILIAL  PIETY  IN  AN 
UGLY  ASPECT  j  AND  CASTS  A  DOUBTFUL  RAY  OF  LIGHT  UPON  A  VERY 
DARK  PLACE. 

Tom  Pinch  and  Ruth  were  sitting  at  their  early  breakfast,  with  the 
window  open,  and  a  row  of  the  freshest  little  plants  arranged  before  it 
on  the  inside,  by  Ruth's  own  hands  ;  and  Ruth  had  fastened  a  sprig  of 
geranium  in  Tom's  button-hole,  to  make  him  very  smart  and  summer- 
like for  the  day  (it  was  obliged  to  be  fastened  in,  or  that  dear  old  Tom 
was  certain  to  lose  it)  ;  and  people  were  crying  flowers  up  and  down  the 
street ;  and  a  blundering  bee,  who  had  got  himself  in  between  the  two 
sashes  of  the  window,  was  bruising  his  head  against  the  glass,  endea- 
vouring to  force  himself  out  into  the  fine  morning,  and  considering 
himself  enchanted  because  he  couldn't  do  it ;  and  the  morning  was  as 
fine  a  mornino^  as  ever  was  seen  :  and  the  frafjrant  air  was  kissins^  Ruth 
and  rustling  about  Tom,  as  if  it  said,  "  How  are  you,  my  dears  :  I  came 
all  this  way  on  purpose  to  salute  you  ;"  and  it  was  one  of  those  glad 
times  when  we  form,  or  ought  to  form,  the  wish  that  every  one  on  earth 
were  able  to  be  happy,  and  catching  glimpses  of  the  summer  of  the 
heart,  to  feel  the  beauty  of  the  summer  of  the  year. 

It  was  even  a  pleasanter  breakfast  than  usual ;  and  it  was  always  a 
pleasant  one.  For  little  Ruth  had  now  two  pupils  to  attend,  each  three 
times  a  week,  and  each  two  hours  at  a  time  ;  and  besides  this,  she  had 
painted  some  screens  and  card-racks,  and,  unknown  to  Tom  (was  there 
ever  anything  so  delightful !)  had  walked  into  a  certain  shop  which 
dealt  in  such  articles,  after  often  peeping  through  the  window  ;  and  had 
taken  courage  to  ask  the  mistress  of  that  shop  whether  she  would  buy 
them.  And  the  mistress  had  not  only  bought  them,  but  had  ordered 
more  j  and  that  very  morning  Ruth  had  made  confession  of  these  facts 
to  Tom,  and  had  handed  him  the  money  in  a  little  purse  she  had  worked 
expressly  for  the  purpose.  They  had  been  in  a  flutter  about  this,  and 
perhaps  had  shed  a  happy  tear  or  two  for  an^'thing  the  history  knows 
to  the  contrary ;  but  it  was  all  over  now ;  and  a  brighter  face  than 
Tom's,  or  a  brighter  face  than  Ruth's,  the  bright  sun  had  not  looked  on 
since  he  went  to  bed  last  nis-ht. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  Tom,  coming  so  abruptly  on  the  subject,  that 
he  interrupted  himself  in  the  act  of  cutting  a  slice  of  bread,  and  left 
the  knife  sticking  in  the  loaf,  "  what  a  queer  fellow  our  landlord  is  !  I 
don't  believe  he  has  been  home  once,  since  he  got  me  into  that  unsatis- 
factory scrape.  I  begin  to  think  he  will  never  come  home  again. 
What  a  mysterious  life  that  man  does  lead,  to  be  sure  1" 

"  Very  strange.     Is  it  not,  Tom  ! " 

"  Really,"  said  Tom,  "  I  hope  it  is  only  strange.  I  hope  there  may 
be  nothing  wrong  in  it.     Sometimes  I  begin  to  be  doubtful  of  that.     I 

N    N 


546  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

must  have  an  explanation  with  him,"  said  Tom,  shaking  his  head  as  if 
this  were  a  most  tremendous  threat,  "  when  I  can  catch  him  ! " 

A  short  double  knock  at  the  door  put  Tom's  menacing  looks  to  flight, 
and  awakened  an  expression  of  surprise  instead. 

"  Heyday  !"  said  Tom.  "An  early  hour  for  visitors  !  It  must  be 
John,  I  suppose." 

"  I — I — don't  think  it  was  his  knock,  Tom,"  observed  his  little  sister. 

"No?"  said  Tom.  "It  surely  can't  be  my  employer,  suddenly 
arrived  in  town  ;  directed  here  by  Mr.  Fips  ;  and  come  for  the  key  of  the 
office.  It 's  somebody  inquiring  for  me,  I  declare !  Come  in,  if  you  please ! " 

But  when  the  person  came  in,  Tom  Pinch,  instead  of  saying  "  Did 
you  wish  to  speak  with  me,  sir  1 "  or  "  My  name  is  Pinch,  sir  ;  what  is 
your  business,  may  I  ask  ?"  or  addressing  him  in  any  such  distant  terms  ; 
cried  out,  "  Good  gracious  Heaven  ! "  and  seized  him  by  both  hands, 
with  the  liveliest  manifestations  of  astonishment  and  pleasure. 

The  visitor  was  not  less  moved  than  Tom  himself,  and  they  shook 
hands  a  great  many  times,  without  another  word  being  spoken  on  either 
side.     Tom  was  the  first  to  find  his  voice. 

"  Mark  Tapley,  too  !"  said  Tom,  running  towards  the  door,  and  shak- 
ing hands  with  somebody  else.  "  My  dear  Mark,  come  in.  How  are 
you,  Mark  ?  He  don't  look  a  day  older  than  he  used  to  do,  at  the 
Dragon.     How  «re  you,  Mark  !" 

"  Uncommon  jolly,  sir,  thank 'ee,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley,  all  smiles 
and  bows.     "  I  hope  I  see  you  well,  sir." 

"  Good  gracious  me  !"  cried  Tom,  patting  him  tenderly  on  the  back. 
"  How  delightful  it  is  to  hear  his  old  voice  again  !     My  dear  Martin, 
sit  down.     My  sister,  Martin.    Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  my  love.     Mark  Tapley 
from  the  Dragon,  my  dear.     Good  gracious  me,  what  a  surprise  this  is  !  ■ 
Sit  down.     Lord  bless  me  !" 

Tom  was  in  such  a  state  of  excitement  that  he  couldn't  keep  himself 
still  for  a  moment,  but  was  constantly  running  between  Mark  and 
Martin,  shaking  hands  with  them  alternately,  and  presenting  them  over 
and  over  asrain  to  his  sister. 

"  I  remember  the  day  we  parted,  Martin,  as  well  as  if  it  were  yester- 
day," said  Tom.  "  What  a  day  it  was  !  and  what  a  passion  you  were 
in  !  And  don't  you  remember  my  overtaking  you  in  the  road  that 
morning,  Mark,  when  I  -v^as  going  to  Salisbury  in  the  gig  to  fetch  him, 
and  you  were  looking  out  for  a  situation  1  And  don't  you  recollect 
the  dinner  we  had  at  Salisbury,  Martin,  with  John  Westlock,  eh  1 
Good  gracious  me  !  Ruth,  my  dear,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Mark  Tapley, 
my  love,  from  the  Dragon.  More  cups  and  saucers,  if  you  please. 
Bless  my  soul,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you  both  ! " 

And  then  Tom  (as  John  Westlock  had  done  on  his  arrival)  ran  off  to 
the  loaf  to  cut  some  bread  and  butter  for  them ;  and  before  he  had 
spread  a  single  slice,  remembered  something  else,  and  came  running 
back  again  to  tell  it  ;  and  then  he  shook  hands  with  them  again  ;  and 
then  he  introduced  his  sister  again  ;  and  then  he  did  everything  he  had 
done  already  all  over  again  ;  and  nothing  Tom  could  do,  and  nothing 
Tom  could  say,  was  half  sufficient  to  express  his  joy  at  their  safe  return. 


MARTIN    CHIJZZLEWIT.  547 

Mr.  Tapley  was  the  first  to  resume  his  composure:  In  a  very  short 
■space  of  time,  he  was  discovered  to  have  somehow  installed  himself  in 
office  as  waiter,  or  attendant  upon  the  party ;  a  fact  which  was  first 
suggested  to  them  by  his  temporary  absence  in  the  kitchen,  and  speedy 
return  with  a  kettle  of  boiling  water,  from  which  he  replenished  the 
tea-pot  with  a  self-possession  that  was  quite  his  own. 

"  Sit  down,  and  take  your  breakfast,  Mark,"  said  Tom.  "  Make  him 
sit  down  and  take  his  breakfast,  Martin." 

"  Oh  !  I  gave  him  up,  long  ago,  as  incorrigible,"  Martin  replied. 
"  He  takes  his  own  way,  Tom.  You  would  excuse  him,  Miss  Pinch,  if 
you  knew  his  value." 

"  She  knows  it,  bless  you  !  "  said  Tom.  "  I  have  told  her  all  about 
Mark  Tapley.     Have  I  not,  Iluth  1 " 

"  Yes,  Tom." 

"  Not  all,"  returned  Martin,  in  a  low  voice.  "  The  best  of  Mark 
Tapley  is  only  known  to  one  man,  Tom ;  and  but  for  Mark  he  would 
hardly  be  alive  to  tell  it." 

"Mark!"  said  Tom  Pinch,  energetically:  "  If  you  don't  sit  down 
this  minute,  I'll  swear  at  you  !  " 

"Well,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley,  "sooner  than  you  should  do  that, 
I'll  com-ply.  It 's  a  considerable  invasion  of  a  man's  jollity  to  be  made 
so  partickler  welcome,  but  a  Werb  is  a  word  as  signifies  to  be,  to  do,  or 
to  sufi'er  (which  is  all  the  grammar,  and  enough  too,  as  ever  I  wos 
taught)  ;  and  if  there's  a  Werb  alive,  I  'm  it.  For  I'm  always  a  bein', 
sometimes  a  doin',  and  continually  a  sufferin'." 

"Not  jolly  yet  ?  "  asked  Tom,  with  a  smile. 

"  Why,  I  was  rather  so,  over  the  water,  sir,"  returned  Mr.  Tapley ; 
^'  and  not  entirely  without  credit.  But  Human  Natur'  is  in  a  conspiracy 
again'  me ;  I  can't  get  on.  I  shall  have  to  leave  it  in  my  will,  sir,  to 
be  wrote  upon  my  tomb  :  *  He  was  a  man  as  might  have  come  out 
strong  if  he  could  have  got  a  chance.     But  it  was  denied  him.'  " 

Mr.  Tapley  took  this  occasion  of  looking  about  him  with  a  grin,  and 
subsequently  attacking  the  breakfast,  with  an  appetite  not  at  all 
expressive  of  blighted  hopes,  or  insurmountable  despondency. 

In  the  meanwhile,  Martin  drew  his  chair  a  little  nearer  to  Tom  and 
his  sister,  and  related  to  them  what  had  passed  at  Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  ; 
adding  in  few  words  a  general  summary  of  the  distresses  and  disap- 
pointments he  had  undergone  since  he  left  England. 

"  For  your  faithful  stewardship  in  the  trust  I  left  with  you,  Tom," 
he  said,  "and  for  all  your  goodness  and  disinterestedness,  I  can  never 
thank  you  enough.     When  I  add  Mary's  thanks  to  mine " 

Ah,  Tom  !  The  blood  retreated  from  his  cheeks,  and  came  rushing 
back,  so  violently,  that  it  was  pain  to  feel  it ;  ease  though,  ease  to 
the  aching  of  his  wounded  heart. 

"  When  I  add  Mary's  thanks  to  mine,"  said  Martin,  "  I  have  made 
the  only  poor  acknowledgment  it  is  in  our  power  to  ofi'er  ;  but  if  you 
knew  how  much  we  feel,  Tom,  you  would  set  some  store  by  it,  I  am 
sure." 

And  if  they  had  known  how  much  Tom  felt — but  that  no  human 

N   N    2 


548  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

creature  ever  knew — they  would  have  set  some  store  by  him.  Indeed 
they  would. 

Tom  changed  the  topic  of  discourse.  lie  was  sorry  he  could  not 
pursue  it,  as  it  gave  Martin  pleasure  ;  hut  he  was  unable,  at  that 
moment,  i^o  drop  of  envy  or  bitterness  was  in  his  soul ;  but  he  could 
not  master  the  firm  utterance  of  her  name. 

He  inquired  what  Martin's  projects  were. 

"  Xo  longer  to  make  your  fortune,  Tom,"  said  Martin,  "  but  to  try  to 
live.  I  tried  that  once  in  London,  Tom  ;  and  failed.  If  you  will  give 
me  the  benefit  of  your  advice  and  friendly  counsel,  I  may  succeed  better 
under  your  guidance  ;  I  will  do  anything,  Tom  ;  anything ;  to  gain  a 
livelihood  by  my  own  exertions.     My  hopes  do  not  soar  above  that,  now." 

High-hearted,  noble  Tom  !  Sorry  to  find  the  pride  of  his  old  com- 
panion humbled,  and  to  hear  him  speaking  in  this  altered  strain  ;  at 
once,  at  once,  he  drove  from  his  breast  the  inability  to  contend  with  its 
deep  emotions,  and  spoke  out  bravely. 

"  Your  hopes  do  not  soar  above  that  !  "  cried  Tom.  "  Yes  they  do. 
How  can  you  talk  so  !  They  soar  up  to  the  time  M'hen  you  will  be 
happy  with  her,  Martin.  They  soar  up  to  the  time  when  you  will  be 
able  to  claim  her,  Martin.  They  soar  up  to  the  time  when  you  will  not 
be  able  to  believe  that  you  were  ever  cast  down  in  spirit,  or  poor  in 
pocket,  Martin.  Advice  and  friendly  counsel  !  Why,  of  course.  But 
you  shall  have  better  advice  and  counsel  (though  you  cannot  have  more 
friendly)  than  mine.  You  shall  consult  John  Westlock.  We  '11  go 
there  immediately.  It  is  yet  so  early,  that  I  shall  have  time  to  take 
you  to  his  chambers  before  I  go  to  business  ;  they  are  in  my  way  ; 
and  I  can  leave  you  there,  to  talk  over  your  afiairs  with  him.  So  come 
along.  Gome  along.  I  am  a  man  of  occupation  now,  you  know,"  said 
Tom,  with  his  pleasantest  smile  ;  "  and  have  no  time  to  lose.  Your 
hopes  don't  soar  higher  than  that  1  I  dare  say  they  don't.  /  know  you, 
pretty  well.  They  '11  be  soaring  out  of  sight  soon,  Martin,  and  leaving 
all  the  rest  of  us  leagues  behind." 

"  Ay  !  But  I  may  be  a  little  changed,"  said  Martin,  "  since  you 
knew  me  pretty  well,  Tom." 

'•  What  nonsense !"  exclaimed  Tom.  "  Why  should  you  be  changed? 
You  talk  as  if  you  were  an  old  man.  I  never  heard  such  a  fellow  ! 
Come  to  John  Westlock's,  come.  Come  along,  Mark  Tapley.  It's 
Mark's  doing,  I  have  no  doubt ;  and  it  serves  you  right  for  having 
such  a  grumbler  for  your  companion." 

"There's  no  credit  to  be  got  through  being  jolly  with  7/ou,  Mr. 
Pinch,  anyways,"  said  Mark,  with  his  face  all  wrinkled  up  with  grins. 
"  A  parish  doctor  might  be  jolly  with  you.  There  's  nothing  short  of 
goin'  to  the  U-nited  States  for  a  second  trip,  as  would  make  it  at  all 
creditable  to  be  jolly,  arter  seein'  you  again  !  " 

Tom  laughed,  and  taking  leave  of  his  sister,  hurried  Mark  and 
Martin  out  into  the  street,  and  away  to  John  Westlock's  by  the  nearest 
road  ;  for  his  hour  of  business  was  very  near  at  hand,  and  he  prided 
himself  on  always  being  exact  to  his  time. 

John  Westlock  was  at  home,  but,  strange  to  say,  was  rather  embar- 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  549 

rassed  to  see  tliem  ;  and  when  Tom  was  about  to  go  into  the  room  where 
he  was  breakfasting,  said  he  had  a  straDger  there.  It  appeared  to  be  a 
mysterious  stranger,  for  John  shut  that  door  as  he  said  it,  and  led  them 
into  the  next  room. 

He  was  very  much  delighted,  though,  to  see  Mark  Tapley  ;  and 
received  Martin  with  his  own  frank  courtesy.  But  Martin  felt  that  he 
did  not  inspire  John  Westlock  with  any  unusual  interest  ;  and  twice  or 
thrice  observed  that  he  looked  at  Tom  Pinch  doubtfully;  not  to  say 
compassionately.  He  thought,  and  blushed  to  think,  that  he  knew  the 
cause  of  this. 

"  I  apprehend  you  are  engaged,"  said  IMartin,  vrhen  Tom  had 
announced  the  purport  of  their  visit.  "  If  you  will  allow  me  to  come 
again  at  your  ov/n  time,  I  shall  be  glad  to  do  so." 

"  I  am  engaged/'  replied  John,  with  some  reluctance  ;  "  but  the  matter 
on  which  I  am  engaged  is  one,  to  say  the  truth,  more  immediately 
demanding  your  knowledge  than  mine." 

"  Indeed  !  "  cried  Martin. 

"  It  relates  to  a  member  of  your  family,  and  is  of  a  serious  nature. 
If  you  will  have  the  kindness  to  remain  here,  it  will  be  a  satisfaction  to 
me  to  have  it  privately  communicated  to  you,  in  order  that  you  may 
judge  of  its  importance  for  yourself." 

"  And  in  the  meantime,"  said  Tom,  "  I  must  really  take  myself  off, 
without  any  further  ceremony." 

"  Is  your  business  so  very  particular,"  asked  Martin,  "  that  you 
cannot  remain  with  us  for  half  an  hour  ?  I  wish  you  could.  What  is 
your  business,  TomT' 

It  was  Tom's  turn  to  be  embarrassed,  now  :  but  he  plainly  said,  after 
a  little  hesitation  : 

"  Why,  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  say  what  it  is,  Martin  :  though  I  hope 
soon  to  be  in  a  condition  to  do  so,  and  am  aware  of  no  other  reason  to 
prv^vent  my  doing  so  now,  than  the  request  of  my  employer.  It's  an 
awkward  position  to  be  placed  in,"  said  Tom,  with  an  uneasy  sense  of 
seeming  to  doubt  his  friend,  "  as  I  feel  every  day ;  but  I  really  cannot 
help  it,  can  I,  John^" 

John  Westlock  replied  in  the  negative  ;  and  Martin,  expressing  him- 
self perfectly  satisfied,  begged  them  not  to  say  another  word  :  though  he 
could  not  help  wondering  very  much,  what  curious  office  Tom  held,  and 
why  he  was  so  secret,  and  embarrassed,  and  unlike  himself,  in  reference 
to  it.  Nor  could  he  help  reverting  to  it,  in  his  own  mind,  several  times 
after  Tom  went  away,  which  he  did  as  soon  as  this  conversation  was 
ended  ;  taking  Mr.  Tapley  with  him,  who,  as  he  laughingly  said,  might 
accompany  him  as  far  as  Fleet-street,  without  injury, 

"  And  what  do  t/ou  mean  to  do,  Mark  ? "  asked  Tom,  as  they  walked 
on  together. 

"Mean  to  do,  sir?"  returned  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  Ay.     What  course  of  life  do  you  mean  to  pursue  1  " 

"  Well,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  The  fact  is,  that  I  have  been  a-thinking 
rather,  of  the  matrimonial  line,  sir." 

"  You  don't  say  so,  Mark  !  "  cried  Tom. 


550  LIFE    AND    ADVE5TTUIIES    OP 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  've  "been  a-turnin'  of  it  over." 

"  And  who  is  the  lady,  Mark  ? " 

"  The  which,  sir  ? "  said  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  The  lady.  Come  !  You  know  what  I  said/'  replied  Tom,  laughing, 
"  as  well  as  I  do  !  " 

Mr.  Tapley  suppressed  his  own  inclination  to  laugh  ;  and,  with  one  of 
his  most  whimsically-twisted  looks,  replied, 

"  You  couldn't  guess  I  suppose,  Mr.  Pinch  ?  " 

"  How  is  it  possible  ? "  said  Tom.  "  I  don't  know  any  of  your 
flames,  Mark.     Except  Mrs.  Lupin,  indeed." 

"  Well,  sir  !  "  retorted  Mr.  Tapley.     "  And  supposing  it  was  her  ! " 

Tom  stopping  in  the  street  to  look  at  him,  Mr.  Tapley  for  a  moment 
presented  to  his  view,  an  utterly  stolid  and  expressionless  face  :  a  perfect 
dead  wall  of  countenance.  But  opening  window  after  window  in  it,  with 
astonishing  rapidity,  and  lighting  them  all  up  as  for  a  general  illumina- 
tion, he  repeated  : 

"  Supposin',  for  the  sake  of  argument,  as  it  was  her,  sir  !  " 

"  Why,  I  thought  such  a  connexion  wouldn't  suit  you,  Mark,  on  any 
terms  ! "  cried  Tom. 

"  Well  sir,  I  used  to  think  so  myself,  once,"  said  Mark.  "  But  I  an't 
so  clear  about  it  now.     A  dear,  sweet  creetur,  sir  ! " 

"  A  dear,  sweet  creature  1  To  be  sure  she  is,"  cried  Tom.  "  But  she 
always  was  a  dear  sweet  creature,  was  she  not  1 " 

"  Was  she  not !  "  assented  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  Then  why  on  earth  didn't  you  marry  her  at  first,  Mark,  instead  of 
wandering  abroad  :  and  losing  all  this  time,  and  leaving  her  alone  by 
herself  :  liable  to  be  courted  by  other  people  ? " 

"  Why,  sir,"  retorted  Mr.  Tapley,  in  a  spirit  of  unbounded  confidence, 
"  I  '11  tell  you  how  it  come  about.  You  know  me,  Mr.  Pinch,  sir  ;  there- 
an't  a  gentleman  alive  as  knows  me  better.  You  're  acquainted  with 
my  constitution,  and  you  're  acquainted  with  my  weakness.  My  consti- 
tution is,  to  be  jolly;  and  my  weakness  is,  to  wish  to  find  a  credit  in  it.. 
Wery  good,  sir.  In  this  state  of  mind,  I  gets  a  notion  in  my  head  that 
she  looks  on  me  with  a  eye  of — with  what  you  may  call  a  favourable 
sort  of  eye  in  fact,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  with  modest  hesitation. 

"  No  doubt,"  replied  Tom.  "  We  knew  that  perfectly  well  when  we 
spoke  on  this  subject  long  ago  ;  before  you  left  the  Dragon." 

Mr.  Tapley  nodded  assent,  "  Well  sir  !  But  bein'  at  that  time  full 
of  hopeful  wisions,  I  arrives  at  the  con-elusion  that  no  credit  is  to  be  got 
out  of  such  a  way  of  life  as  that,  where  everything  agreeable  would  be 
ready  to  one's  hand.  Lookin'  on  the  bright  side  of  human  life  in  short, 
one  of  my  hopeful  wisions  is,  that  there  's  a  deal  of  misery  a-waitin'  for 
me  ;  in  the  midst  of  which  I  may  come  out  tolerable  strong,  and  be  jolly 
under  circumstances  as  reflects  some  credit.  I  goes  into  the  world  sir, 
wery  boyant,  and  I  tries  this.  I  goes  aboard  ship  first,  and  wery  soon 
discovers  (by  the  ease  with  which  I  'm  jolly,  mind  you)  as  there  's  no. 
credit  to  be  got  tke?-e.  I  might  have  took  warning  by  this,  and  gave  it 
up  ;  but  I  didn't.  I  gets  to  the  XJ-nited  States  ;  and  then  I  do  begin, 
I  won't  deny  it,  to  feel  some  little  credit  in  sustaining  my  spirits.    What 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  551 

follows  1  Jest  as  I  'm  beginning  to  come  out,  and  am  a  treadin'  on  the 
werge,  my  master  deceives  me." 

"  Deceives  you  !  "  cried  Tom. 

"  Swindles  me,"  retorted  Mr.  Tapley,  with  a  beaming  face.  "  Turns 
his  back  on  ev'ry  thing  as  made  his  service  a  creditable  one,  and  leaves 
me,  high  and  dry,  without  a  leg  to  stand  upon.  In  which  state,  I 
returns  home.  Wery  good.  Then  all  my  hopeful  wisions  bein'  crushed  ; 
and  findin'  that  there  an't  no  credit  for  me  nowhere  ;  I  abandons  myself 
to  despair,  and  says, '  Let  me  do  that  as  has  the  least  credit  in  it,  of  all ; 
marry  a  dear,  sweet  creetur,  as  is  wery  fond  of  me  :  me  being,  at  the 
same  time,  wery  fond  of  her  :  lead  a  happy  life  ;  and  struggle  no  more 
again'  the  blight  which  settles  on  my  prospects." 

"  If  your  philosophy,  Mark,"  said  Tom,  who  laughed  heartily  at  this 
speech,  "  be  the  oddest  I  ever  heard  of,  it  is  not  the  least  wise.  Mrs.  Lupin 
has  said  '  yes,'  of  course  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Tiipley ;  "  she  hasn't  gone  so  far  as  that 
yet.  Which  I  attribute  principally  to  my  not  havin'  asked  her.  But  we 
was  wery  agreeable  together — comfortable,  I  may  say — the  night  I  come 
home.     It 's  all  right,  sir." 

"  Well!  "  said  Tom,  stopping  at  the  Temple  Gate.  "I  wish  you  joy, 
Mark,  with  all  my  heart.  I  shall  see  you  again  to-day,  I  dare  say. 
Good-bye  for  the  present." 

"  Good-bye,  sir  !  Good-bye,  Mr.  Pinch,"  he  added,  by  way  of 
soliloquy,  as  he  stood  looking  after  him.  "  Although  you  ai^e  a 
damper  to  a  honorable  ambition.  Y(Su  little  think  it,  but  you  was  the 
first  to  dash  my  hopes.  Pecksniff  would  have  built  me  up  for  life,  but 
your  sweet  temper  pulled  me  down.     Good-bye  Mr.  Pinch  ! " 

While  these  confidences  were  interchanged  between .  Tom  Pinch  and 
Mark,  Martin  and  John  Westlock  were  very  differently  engaged.  They 
were  no  sooner  left  alone  together  than  Martin  said,  with  an  effort  he 
could  not  disOTise  : 

"  Mr.  Westlock,  we  have  met  only  once  before,  but  you  have  known 
Tom  a  long  while,  and  that  seems  to  render  you  familiar  to  me.  I 
cannot  talk  freely  vvith  you  on  any  subject  unless  I  relieve  my  mind  of 
what  oppresses  it  just  now.  I  see  with  pain  that  you  so  far  mistrust 
me  that  you  think  me  likely  to  impose  on  Tom's  regardlessness  of 
himself,  or  on  his  kind  nature,  or  some  of  his  good  qualities." 

"  I  had  no  intention,"  replied  John,  "  of  conveying  any  such  impres- 
sion to  you,  and  am  exceedingly  sorry  to  have  done  so." 

"But  you  entertain  it?"  said  Martin. 

"  You  ask  me  so  pointedly  and  directly,"  returned  the  other,  "  that  I 
cannot  deny  the  having  accustomed  myself  to  regard  you  as  one  who, 
not  in  wantonness  but  in  mere  thoughtlessness  of  character,  did  not 
sufficiently  consider  his  nature  and  did  not  quite  treat  it  as  it  deserves 
to  be  treated.    It  is  much  easier  to  slight  than  to  appreciate  Tom  Pinch." 

This  was  not  said  warmly,  but  vras  energetically  spoken  too  ;  for 
there  was  no  subject  in  the  world  (but  one)  on  which  the  speaker  felt 
so  strongly. 

"  I  grew  into  the  knowledge  of  Tom,"   he  pursued,    "  as   I  grew 


552  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

towards  manhood ;  and  I  liave  learned  to  love  liim  as  something 
infinitely  better  than  myself.  I  did  not  think  that  you  understood 
him  when  we  met  before.  I  did  not  think  that  you  greatly  cared  to 
understand  him.  The  instances  of  this  which  I  observed  in  you,  were, 
like  my  opportunities  for  observation,  very  trivial  j  and  were  very 
harmless  I  dare  say.  But  they  were  not  agreeable  to  me,  and  they 
forced  themselves  upon  me  ;  for  I  was  not  upon  the  watch  for  them, 
believe  me.  You  will  say,"  added  John,  with  a  smile,  as  he  subsided 
into  more  of  his  accustomed  manner,  "  that  I  am  not  by  any  means 
agreeable  to  you.  I  can  only  assure  you,  in  reply,  that  I  would  not 
have  originated  this  topic  on  any  account." 

"  I  originated  it,"  said  Martin  ;  "  and  so  far  from  having  any  com- 
plaint to  make  against  you,  highly  esteem  the  friendship  you  entertain 
for  Tom,  and  the  very  many  proofs  you  have  given  him  of  it.  Why 
should  I  endeavour  to  conceal  from  you  : "  he  coloured  deeply  though  : 
"  that  I  neither  understood  him  nor  cared  to  understand  him  when  I 
was  his  companion  ;  and  that  I  am  very  truly  sorry  for  it  now ! " 

It  was  so  sincerely  said,  at  once  so  modestly  and  manfully,  that  John 
offered  him  his  hand  as  if  he  had  not  done  so  before  ;  and  Martin 
giving  his  in  the  same  open  spirit,  all  constraint  between  the  young 
men  vanished. 

"  Kow  pray,"  said  John,  when  I  tire  your  patience  very  much  in 
what  I  am  going  to  say,  recollect  that  it  has  an  end  to  it,  and  that  the 
end  is  the  point  of  the  story." 

With  this  preface,  he  related  all  the  circumstances  connected  with  his 
having  presided  over  the  illness  and  slow  recovery  of  the  patient  at  the 
Bull ;  and  tacked  on  to  the  skirts  of  that  narrative  Tom's  own  account  of 
the  business  on  .the  wharf.  Martin  was  not  a  little  puzzled  when  he 
came  to  an  end,  for  the  two  stories  seemed  to  have  no  connexion  with 
each  other,  and  to  leave  him.,  as  the  phrase  is,  all  abroad. 

"  If  you  will  excuse  me  for  one  moment,"  said  John,  rising,  "  I  will 
beg  you  almost  immediately  to  come  into  the  next  room." 

Upon  that,  he  left  Martin  to  himself,  in  a  state  of  considerable 
astonishment ;  and  soon  came  back  again  to  fulfil  his  promise.  Accom- 
panying him  into  the  next  room,  Martin  found  there  a  third  person  ;  no 
doubt  the  stranger  of  whom  his  host  had  spoken  when  Tom  Pinch 
introduced  him. 

He  was  a  young  man ;  with  deep  black  hair  and  eyes.  He  was  gaunt 
and  pale  ;  and  evidently  had  not  long  recovered  from  a  severe  illness.  He 
stood  as  Martin  entered,  but  sat  again  at  John's  desire.  His  eyes  were 
cast  downward  ;  and  but  for  one  glance  at  them  both,  half  in  humilia- 
tion and  half  in  entreaty,  he  kept  them  so,  and  sat  quite  still  and  silent. 

"This  person's  name  is  Lewsome,"  said  John  W^estlock,  "whom  I 
have  mentioned  to  you  as  having  been  seized  with  illness  at  the  inn 
near  here,  and  undergone  so  much.  He  has  had  a  very  hard  time 
of  it,  ever  since  he  began  to  recover ;  but  as  you  see  he  is  now  doing 
well." 

As  he  did  not  move  or  speak,  and  John  Westlock  made  a  pause, 
Martm,  not  knowino:  what  to  sav,  said  that  he  was  ixlad  to  hear  it.' 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  00  3 

"  The  sliori;  statement  that  I  wish  you  to  hear  from  his  own  lips, 
IMr.  Chuzzlewit,"  John  pursued  :  looking  attentively  at  him,  and  not 
at  Martin  :  "  he  made  to  me  for  the  first  time  yesterday,  and  repeated 
to  me  this  morning,  without  the  least  variation  of  any  essential  parti- 
cular. I  have  already  told  you  that  he  informed  me  before  he  was 
removed  from  the  Inn,  that  he  had  a  secret  to  disclose  to  me  which  lay 
heavy  on  his  mind.  But  fluctuating  between  sickness  and  health  ;  and 
between  his  desire  to  relieve  himself  of  it,  and  his  dread  of  involving 
himself  by  revealing  it ;  he  has,  until  yesterday,  avoided  the  disclosure. 
I  never  pressed  him  for  it  (having  no  idea  of  its  weight  or  import,  or 
of  my  right  to  do  so),  until  within  a  few  days  past  ;  when  under- 
standing from  him,  on  his  own  voluntary  avowal,  in  a  letter  from  the 
country,  that  it  related  to  a  person  whose  name  was  Jonas  Chuzzlewit ; 
and  thinking  that  it  might  throw  some  light  on  that  little  mystery 
which  made  Tom  anxious  now  and  then  ;  I  urged  the  point  upon  him, 
and  heard  his  statement  as  you  will  now,  from  his  own  lips.  It  is  due 
to  him  to  say,  that  in  the  apprehension  of  death,  he  committed  it  to 
writing  sometime  since,  and  folded  it  in  a  sealed  paper,  addressed 
to  me  ;  which  he  could  not  resolve,  however,  to  place  of  his  own  act 
in  my  hands.  He  has  the  paper  in  his  breast,  I  believe,  at  this 
moment." 

The  young  man  touched  it  hastily  ;  in  corroboration  of  the  fact. 

"  It  will  be  well  to  leave  that  in  our  charge,  perhaps,"  said  John. 
"  But  do  not  mind  it  now." 

As  he  said  this,  he  held  up  his  hand  to  bespeak  Martin's  attention. 
It-  M^as  already  fixed  upon  the  man  before  him,  who,  after  a  short 
silence  said,  in  a  low,  weak,  hollow  voice  : 

."  What  relation  was  Mr.  Anthony  Chuzzlewit,  who — " 

" — Who  died — to  me  1 "  said  Mariin.  "  He  was  my  grandfather's 
brother." 

"  I  fear  he  was  made  away  with.     Murdered  !  " 

"  My  God  !  "  said  Martin.      "  By  whom  ?  " 

The  young  man,  Lewsome,  looked  up  in  his  face,  and  casting  down 
Lis  eyes  again,  replied  : 

"  I  fear,  by  me." 

"  By  you  ?  "  cried  Martin. 

"  Not  by  my  act,  but  I  fear  by  my  means." 

'•  Speak  out !"  said  Martin,  "and  speak  the  truth." 

"  I  fear  this  is  the  truth." 

Martin  was  about  to  interrupt  him  again,  but  John  Westlock  saying 
softly,  "  Let  him  tell  his  story  in  his  own  way,"  Lewsome  went  on  thus  : 

"  I  have  been  bred  a  surgeon,  and  for  the  last  few  years  have  served 
a  general  practitioner  in  the  city,  as  his  assistant.  While  I  was  in  his 
employment  I  became  acquainted  with  Jonas  Chuzzlewit.  He  is  the 
principal  in  this  deed." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  demanded  Martin,  sternly.  "Do  you  know 
he  is  the  son  of  the  old  man  of  whom  you  have  spoken  ?" 

"  I  do,"  he  answered. 

He  remained  silent  for  some  moments ;  when  he  resumed  at  the  point 
where  he  had  left  off. 


554  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OP 

"  I  have  reason  to  know  it ;  for  I  have  often  heard  him  wish  his  old 
father  dead,  and  complain  of  his  being  wearisome  to  him,  and  a  drag 
upon  him.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  so,  at  a  place  of  meeting  we 
had  :  three  or  four  of  us  :  at  night.  There  was  no  good  in  the  place, 
you  may  suppose,  when  you  hear  that  he  was  the  chief  of  the  party. 
I  wish  I  had  died  myself,  and  never  seen  it !" 

He  stopped  again  ;  and  again  resumed  as  before. 

"  We  met  to  drink  and  game  ;  not  for  large  sums,  but  for  sums  that 
were  large  to  us.  He  generally  won.  Whether  or  no,  he  lent  money 
at  interest  to  those  who  lost  ;  and  in  this  way,  though  I  think  we  all 
secretly  hated  him,  he  came  to  be  the  master  of  us.  To  propitiate  him, 
we  made  a  jest  of  his  father  :  it  began  with  his  debtors  ;  I  was  one  : 
and  we  used  to  toast  a  quicker  journey  to  the  old  man,  and  a  swift 
inheritance  to  the  young  one." 

He  paused  again. 

"  One  night  he  came  there  in  a  very  bad  humour.  He  had  been 
greatly  tried,  he  said,  by  the  old  man  that  day.  He  and  I  were 
alone  together  ;  and  he  angrily  told  m^e,  that  the  old  man  was  in  his 
second  childhood  ;  that  he  was  weak,  imbecile,  and  drivelling  ;  as  unbear- 
able to  himself  as  he  was  to  other  people  ;  and  that  it  would  be  a  charity 
to  put  him  out  of  the  way.  He  swore  that  he  had  often  thought  of 
mixing  something  with  the  stuff  he  took  for  his  cough,  which  should 
help  him  to  die  easily.  People  were  sometimes  smothered  who  were 
bitten  by  mad  dogs,  he  said  ;  and  why  not  help  these  lingering  old  men 
out  of  their  troubles  too  1  He  looked  full  at  me  as  he  said  so,  and  I 
looked  full  at  him  j  but  it  went  no  farther  that  night." 

He  stopped  once  more,  and  was  silent  for  so  long  an  interval,  that 
John  Westlock  said  "  Go  on."  Martin  had  never  removed  his  eyes 
from  his  face,  but  was  so  absorbed  in  horror  and  astonishment,  that  he 
could  not  speak. 

"  It  may  have  been  a  week  after  that,  or  it  may  have  been  less,  or 
more  :  the  matter  was  in  my  mind  all  the  time,  but  I  cannot  recollect 
the  time,  as  I  should  any  other  period  :  when  he  spoke  to  me  again. 
We  were  alone  then,  too  ;  being  there  before  the  usual  hour  of  assembling. 
There  was  no  appointment  between  us  ;  but  I  think  I  went  there  tO' 
meet  him,  and  1  know  he  came  there  to  meet  me.  He  was  there  first. 
He  was  reading  a  newspaper  when  I  went  in,  and  nodded  to  me  without 
looking  up,  or  leaving  off  reading.  I  sat  down  opposite  and  close  to 
him.  He  said,  immediately,  that  he  wanted  me  to  get  him  some  of  two 
sorts  of  drugs.  One  that  was  instantaneous  in  its  effect ;  of  which  he 
wanted  very  little.  One  that  was  slow,  and  not  suspicious  in  appear- 
ance ;  of  which  he  wanted  more.  While  he  was  speaking  to  me  he 
still  read  the  newspaper.  He  said  '  Drugs,'  and  never  used  any  other 
word.     Neither  did  I." 

"This  all  agrees  with  what  I  have  heard  before,"  observed  John 
Westlock. 

"  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted  them  for  ?  He  said  for  no  harm  ;  to 
physic  cats  ;  what  did  it  matter  to  me  ?  I  was  going  out  to  a  distant 
colony  (I  had  recently  got  the  appointment,  which,  as  Mr.  Westlock 
knows,  I  have  since  lost  by  my  sickness,  and  which  was  my  only  hope 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  5,55 

of  salvation  from  ruin),  and  what  did  it  matter  to  me  1  He  could  get 
them  without  mj  aid  at  half  a  hundred  places,  but  not  so  easily  as  he 
could  get  them  of  me.  This  was  true.  He  might  not  want  them  at 
all,  he  said,  and  he  had  no  present  idea  of  using  them  ;  but  he  wished 
to  have  them  by  him.  All  this  time  he  still  read  the  newspaper.  We 
talked  about  the  price.  He  was  to  forgive  me  a  small  debt — I  was 
quite  in  his  power — and  to  pay  me  five  pounds  ;  and  there  the  matter 
dropped,  through  others  coming  in.  Eut  next  night,  under  exactly 
similar  circumstances,  I  gave  him  the  drugs,  on  his  saying  I  was  a  fool 
to  think  that  he  should  ever  use  them  for  any  harm  ;  and  he  gave  me 
the  money.  We  have  never  met  since.  I  only  know  that  the  poor  old 
father  died  soen  afterwards  :  just  as  he  would  have  died  from  this  cause  : 
and  that  I  have  undergone,  and  suffer  now,  intolerable  misery.  Nothing," 
he  added,  stretching  out  his  hands,  "  can  paint  my  misery  !  It  is  well 
deserved,  but  nothing  can  paint  it." 

With  that  he  hung  his  head,  and  said  no  more.  Wasted  and 
wretched,  he  was  not  a  creature  upon  whom  to  heap  reproaches  that 
were  unavailing. 

"  Let  him  remain  at  hand,"  said  Martin,  turning  from  him  j  "  but 
out  of  sight,  in  Heaven's  name  ! " 

"  He  will  remain  here,"  John  whispered.  "Come  with  me!"  Softly 
turning  the  key  upon  him  as  they  went  out,  he  conducted  Martin  into 
the  adjoining  room,  in  which  they  had  been  before. 

Martin  was  so  amazed,  so  shocked,  and  confounded  by  what  he  had 
heard,  that  it  was  some  time  before  he  could  reduce  it  to  any  order  in 
his  mind,  or  could  sufficiently  comprehend  the  bearing  of  one  part  upon 
another,  to  take  in  all  the  details  at  one  view.  When  he  at  length  had 
the  whole  narrative  clearly  before  him,  John  Westlock  went  on  to  point 
out  the  great  probability  of  the  guilt  of  Jonas  being  known  to  other 
people,  who  traded  in  it  for  their  own  benefit,  and  who  were  by  such 
means  able  to  exert  that  control  over  him  which  Tom  Pinch  had  acci- 
dentally witnessed,  and  unconsciously  assisted.  This  appeared  so  plain, 
that  they  agreed  upon  it  without  difficulty  ;  but  instead  of  deriving  the 
least  assistance  from  this  source,  they  found  that  it  embarrassed  them 
the  more. 

They  knew  nothing  of  the  real  parties,  who  possessed  this  power. 
The  only  person  before  them  was  Tom's  landlord.  They  had  no  right 
to  question  Tom's  landlord,  even  if  they  could  find  him,  which,  according 
to  Tom's  account,  it  would  not  be  easy  to  do.  And  granting  that  they 
did  question  him,  and  he  answered  (which  was  taking  a  good  deal  for 
granted),  he  had  only  to  say,  with  reference  to  the  adventure  on  the 
wharf,  that  he  had  been  sent  from  such  and  such  a  place  to  summon 
Jonas  back  on  urgent  business,  and  there  was  an  end  of  it. 

Besides,  there  was  the  great  difficulty  and  responsibility  of  moving 
at  all  in  the  matter.  Lewsorae's  story  might  be  false  ;  in  his  wretched 
state  it  might  be  greatly  heightened  by  a  diseased  brain  ;  or  admitting 
it  to  be  entirely  true,  the  old  man  might  have  died  a  natural  death.  Mr. 
Pecksniff  had  been  there  at  the  time  ;  as  Tom  immediately  remembered, 
when  he  came  back  in  the  afternoon,  and  shared  their  counsels ;  and 


555  LIFE    AND    ADTENTFRES    OF 

tliere  had  been  no  secrecy  about  it.  Martin's  grandfatlier  was  of  right 
the  person  to  decide  upon  the  course  that  sliould  be  taken  ;  but  to  get 
at  his  views  would  be  impossible,  for  Mr,  Pecksniff's  views  were  certain 
to  be  his.  And  the  nature  of  Mr.  Pecksniff's  views  in  reference  to  his 
own  son-in-law,  might  be  easily  reckoned  upon. 

Apart  from  these  considerations,  Martin  could  not  endure  the  thought 
of  seeming  to  grasp  at  this  unnatural  charge  against  his  relative,  and 
using  it  as  a  stepping-stone  to  his  grandfather's  favour.  But  that  he 
would  seem  to  do  so,  if  he  presented  himself  before  his  grandfather  in 
Mr.  Pecksniff's  house  again,  for  the  purpose  of  declaring  it ;  and  that 
Mr.  Pecksniff,  of  all  men,  would  represent  his  conduct  in  that  despicable 
light  j  he  perfectly  well  knew.  On  the  other  hand,  to  be  in  possession 
of  such  a  statement,  and  to  take  no  measures  of  further  inquiry  in 
reference  to  it,  was  tantamount  to  being  a  partner  in  the  guilt  it  pro- 
fessed to  disclose. 

In  a  word,  they  were  wholly  unable  to  discover  any  outlet  from  this 
maze  of  difficulty,  which  did  not  lie  through  some  perplexed  and 
entangled  thicket.  And  although  Mr.  Tapley  was  promptly  taken  into 
their  confidence ;  and  the  fertile  imagination  of  that  gentleman  suggested 
many  bold  expedients,  which,  to  do  him  justice,  he  was  quite  ready  to 
carry  into  instant  operation  on  his  own  personal  responsibility  ;  still, 
'bating  the  general  zeal  of  Mr.  Tapley's  nature,  nothing  was  made  parti- 
cularly clearer  by  these  offers  of  service. 

It  was  in  this  position  of  affairs  that  Tom's  account  of  the  strange 
behaviour  of  the  decayed  clerk,  upon  the  night  of  the  tea-party,  became 
of  great  moment,  and  finally  convinced  them  that  to  arrive  at  a  more 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  workings  of  that  old  man's  mind  and  memory, 
would  be  to  take  a  most  important  stride  in  their  pursuit  of  the  truth. 
So,  having  first  satisfied  themselves  that  no  communication  had  ever 
taken  place  between  Lewsome  and  Mr.  Chuffey  (which  would  have 
accounted  at  once  for  any  suspicions  the  latter  might  entertain),  they 
unanimously  resolved  that  the  old  clerk  was  the  man  they  wanted. 

Eut  like  the  unanimous  resolution  of  a  public  meeting  ;  which  will 
oftentimes  declare  that  this'  or  that  grievance  is  not  to  be  borne  a 
moment  longer,  which  is  nevertheless  borne  for  a  century  or  two  after- 
wards, without  any  modification  ;  they  only  reached  in  this  the  conclu- 
sion that  they  were  all  of  one  mind.  For  it  was  one  thing  to  want  Mr. 
Chuffey,  and  another  thing  to  get  at  him ;  and  to  do  that  without 
alarming  him,  or  without  alarming  Jonas,  or  without  being  discomfited 
by  the  difficulty  of  striking,  in  an  instrument  so  out  of  tune  and  so 
unused,  the  note  they  sought,  was  an  end  as  far  from  their  reach  as 
ever. 

The  question  then  became,  who  of  those  about  the  old  clerk  had  had 
most  influence  with  him,  that  night  ?  Tom  said  his  young  mistress 
clearly.  But  Tom  and  all  of  them  shrunk  from  the  thought  of  entrap- 
ping her,  and  making  her  the  innocent  means  of  bringing  retribution  on 
Ler  cruel  husband.  AVas  there  nobody  else  1  Why  yes.  In  a  very 
different  way,  Tom  said,  he  was  influenced  by  Mrs,  Gamp,  the  nurse  : 
who  had  once  had  the  controul  of  him  as  he  understood,  for  some  time. 


MARTIN    CIIUZZLEWIT.  557 

They  caught  at  this  immediately.  Here  was  a  new  way  out,  developed 
in  a  quarter  until  then  overlooked.  John  Westlock  knew  Mrs.  Gamp ; 
he  had  given  her  employment ;  he  was  acquainted  with  her  place  of 
residence  :  for  that  good  lady  had  obligingly  furnished  him,  at  parting, 
with  a  pack  of  her  professional  cards  for  general  distribution.  It  was 
decided  that  Mrs.  Gamp  should  be  approached  with  caution,  but  ap- 
proached v/ithout  delay  ;  and  that  the  depths  of  that  discreet  matron's 
knowledge  of  Mr.  Chuffey,  and  means  of  bringing  them,  or  one  of  them, 
into  communication  with  him,  should  be  carefully  sounded. 

On  this  service,  Martin  and  John  Westlock  determined  to  proceed 
that  night;  waiting  on  Mrs.  Gamp  first,  at  her  lodgings;  and  taking 
their  chance  of  finding  her  in  the  repose  of  private  life,  or  of  having  to 
seek  her  out,  elsewhere,  in  the  exercise  of  her  professional  duties. 
Tom  returned  home,  that  he  might  lose  no  opportunity  of  having  an 
interview  with  Nadgett,  by  being  absent  in  the  event  of  his  re- 
appearance. And  Mr.  Tapley  remained  (by  his  own  particular  desire) 
for  the  time  being  in  Furnival's  Inn,  to  look  after  Lewsome  ;  who  might 
safely  have  been  left  to  himself,  however,  for  any  thought  he  seemed  to 
entertain  of  giving  them  the  slip. 

But  before  they  parted  on  their  several  errands,  they  caused  him  to 
read  aloud,  in  the  presence  of  them  all,  the  paper  which  he  had  about 
him,  and  the  declaration  he  had  attached  to  it,  which  was  to  the  effect, 
that  he  had  written  it  voluntarily,  in  the  fear  of  death,  and  in  the 
torture  of  his  mind.  And  when  he  had  done  so,  they  all  signed  it,  and 
taking  it  from  him,  of  his  free  will,  locked  it  in  a  place  of  safety. 

Martin  also  wrote,  by  John's  advice,  a  letter  to  the  trustees  of  the 
famous  Grammar  School,  boldly  claiming  the  successful  design  as  his, 
and  charging  Mr.  Pecksnifi"  with  the  fraud  he  had  committed.  In  this 
proceeding  also  John  was  hotly  interested  :  observing  with  his  usual 
irreverence,  that  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  been  a  successful  rascal  all  his  life 
through,  and  that  it  would  be  a  lasting  source  of  happiness  to  him 
(John)  if  he  could  help  to  do  him  justice  in  the  smallest  particular. 

A  busy  day !  But  Martin  had  no  lodgings  yet ;  so  when  these  matters 
were  disposed  of,  he  excused  himself  from  dining  with  John  Westlock 
and  was  fain  to  wander  out  alone,  and  look  for  some.  He  succeeded 
after  great  trouble,  in  engaging  two  garrets  for  himself  and  Mark, 
situated  in  a  court  in  the  Strand,  not  far  from  Temple  Bar.  Their 
luggage,  which  was  waiting  for  them  at  a  coach-office,  he  conveyed 
to  this  new  place  of  refuge  ;  and  it  was  with  a  glow  of  satisfaction,  which 
as  a  selfish  man  he  never  could  have  knovv'n  and  never  had,  that  : 
thinking  how  much  pains  and  trouble  he  had  saved  Mark,  and  how 
pleased  and  astonished  i\Iark  would  be  :  he  afterwards  walked  up  and 
down,  in  the  Temple,  eating  a  meat-pie  for  his  dinner. 


558  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    0¥ 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 

IN   WHICH    MRS.    HARRIS,    ASSISTED     BY     A     TEAPOT,     IS     THE     CAUSE    OF    A 
DIVISION    BETWEEN    FRIENDS. 

Mrs.  Gamp's  apartment  in  Kingsgate-street,  High  Holborn,  wore, 
metaphorically  speaking,  a  robe  of  state.  It  was  swept  and  garnished 
for  the  reception  of  a  visitor.  That  visitor  was  Betsey  Prig  :  Mrs.  Prig 
of  Bartlemy's ;  or  as  some  said  Barklemy's,  or  as  some  said  Bard- 
lemy's  :  for  by  all  these  endearing  and  familiar  appellations,  had  the 
hospital  of  Saint  Bartholomew  become  a  household  word  among  the 
sisterhood  which  Betsey  Prig  adorned. 

Mrs.  Gamp's  apartment  was  not  a  spacious  one,  but,  to  a  contented 
mind  a  closet  is  a  palace  ;  and  the  first-floor  front  at  Mr.  Sweedlepipe's 
may  have  been,  in  the  imagination  of  Mrs.  Gamp,  a  stately  pile.  If  it 
were  not  exactly  that,  to  restless  intellects,  it  at  least  comprised  as  much 
accommodation  as  any  person,  not  sanguine  to  insanity,  could  have 
looked  for,  in  a  room  of  its  dimensions.  For  only  keep  the  bedstead 
always  in  your  mind  ;  and  you  were  safe.  That  was  the  grand  secret. 
Ptemembering  the  bedstead,  you  might  even  stoop  to  look  under  the 
little  round  table  for  anything  you  had  dropped,  without  hurting  your- 
self much  against  the  chest  of  drawers,  or  qualifying  as  a  patient  of 
Saint  Bartholomew,  by  falling  into  the  fire. 

Visitors  were  much  assisted  in  their  cautious  eiforts  to  preserve  an 
unflagging  recollection  of  this  piece  of  furniture,  by  its  size  :  which  was 
great.  It  was  not  a  turn-up  bedstead,  nor  yet  a  French  bedstead,  nor 
yet  a  four-post  bedstead,  but  what  is  poetically  called,  a  tent :  the  sack- 
ing whereof,  was  low  and  bulgy,  insomuch  that  Mrs.  Gamp's  box  would 
not  go  under  it,  but  stopped  half  way,  in  a  manner  which  while  it  did 
violence  to  the  reason,  likewise  endangered  the  legs,  of  a  stranger.  The 
frame  too,  which  would  have  supported  the  canopy  and  hangings  if 
there  had  been  any,  was  ornamented  with  divers  pippins  carved  in 
timber,  which  on  the  slightest  provocation  and  frequently  on  none  at 
all,  came  tumbling  down ;  harrassing  the  peaceful  guest  with  inexpli- 
cable terrors. 

The  bed  itself  was  decorated  with  a  patchwork  quilt  of  great  anti- 
quity ;  and  at  the  upper  end,  upon  the  side  nearest  to  the  door,  hung  a 
scanty  curtain  of  blue  check,  which  prevented  the  Zephyrs  that  were 
-abroad  in  Kingsgate-street  from  visiting  Mrs.  Gamp's  head  too  roughly. 
Some  rusty  gowns  and  other  articles  of  that  lady's  wardrobe  depended 
from  the  posts  ;  and  these  had  so  adapted  themselves  by  long  usage 
to  her  figure,  that  more  than  one  impatient  husband  coming  in  preci- 
pitately, at  about  the  time  of  twilight,  had  been  for  an  instant  stricken 
dumb  by  the  supposed  discovery  that  Mrs.  Gamp  had  hanged  herself. 
One  gentleman,  coming  on  the  usual  hasty  errand,  had  said  indeed,  that 
they  looked  like  guardian  angels  "watching  of  her  in  her  sleep."  But 
that,  as  Mrs.  Gamp  said,  "  was  his  first ;"  and  he  never  repeated  the 
sentiment  though  he  often  repeated  his  visit. 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  559 

The  cTiairs  in  Mrs.  Gamp's  apartment  were  extremely  large  and  broad- 
backed,  which  was  more  than  a  sufficient  reason  for  their  being  but  two 
in  number.  They  were  both  elbow-chairs,  of  ancient  mahogany  ;  and 
were  chiefly  valuable  for  the  slippery  nature  of  their  seats  ;  which  had 
been  originally  horse-hair,  but  were  now  covered  with  a  shiny  substance 
of  a  blueish  tint,  from  which  the  visitor  began  to  slide  away  with  a  dis- 
mayed countenance,  immediately  after  sitting  down.  AVhat  Mrs.  Gamp 
wanted  in  chairs  she  made  up  in  bandboxes  ;  of  which  she  had  a  great 
collection,  devoted  to  the  reception  of  various  miscellaneous  valuables, 
which  were  not,  however,  as  well  protected  as  the  good  woman,  by  a 
pleasant  fiction,  seemed  to  think  :  for  though  every  bandbox  had  a  care- 
fully closed  lid,  not  one  among  them  had  a  bottom  ;  owing  to  which 
cause,  the  property  within  was  merely,  as  it  were,  extinguished.  The 
chest  of  drawers  having  been  originally  made  to  stand  upon  the  top  of 
another  chest,  had  a  dwarfish,  elfin  look,  alone;  but  in  regard  of  its  secu- 
rity it  had  a  great  advantage  over  the  bandboxes,  for  as  all  the  handles 
had  been  long  ago  pulled  off,  it  was  very  difficult  to  get  at  its  contents. 
This  indeed  was  only  to  be  done  by  one  of  two  devices  ;  either  by  tilting 
the  whole  structure  forward  until  all  the  drawers  fell  out  together,  or 
by  opening  them  singly  with  knives  :  like  oysters. 

Mrs.  Gamp  stored  all  her  household  matters  in  a  little  cupboard  by 
the  fire-place  ;  beginning  below  the  surface  (as  in  nature)  with  the 
€oals,  and  mounting  gradually  upwards  to  the  spirits,  which,  from 
motives  of  delicacy,  she  kept  in  a  tea-pot.  The  chimney-piece  was 
ornamented  with  a  small  almanack,  marked  here  and  there  in  Mrs. 
Gamp's  own  hand,  with  a  memorandum  of  the  date  at  which  some  lady 
was  expected  to  fall  due.  It  was  also  embellished  with  three  profiles  : 
one,  in  colours,  of  Mrs.  Gamp  herself  in  early  life  ;  one  in  bronze  of 
a  lady  in  feathers,  supposed  to  be  Mrs.  Harris,  as  she  appeared  when 
dressed  for  a  ball  ;  and  one  in  black,  of  Mr.  Gamp,  deceased.  The  last 
w^as  a  full  length,  in  order  that  the  likeness  might  be  rendered  more 
obvious  and  forcible,  by  the  introduction  of  the  wooden  leg. 

A  pair  of  bellows,  a  pair  of  pattens,  a  toasting-fork,  a  kettle,  a  pap- 
boat,  a  spoon  for  the  administration  of  medicine  to  the  refractory ;  and 
lastly,  Mrs.  Gamp's  umbrella,  which  as  something  of  great  price  and 
rarity  was  displayed  with  particular  ostentation;  completed  the  deco- 
rations of  the  chimney-piece  and  adjacent  wall.  Towards  these  objects, 
Mrs.  Gamp  raised  her  eyes  in  satisfaction  when  she  had  arranged  the 
tea-board,  and  had  concluded  her  arrangements  for  the  reception  of 
Betsey  Prig,  even  unto  the  setting  forth  of  two  pounds  of  JS^ewcastle 
salmon,  intensely  pickled. 

"  There  !  Now  drat  you,  Betsey,  don't  be  long  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp, 
apostrophising  her  absent  friend.  "  For  I  can't  abear  to  wait,  I  do 
assure  you.  To  wotever  place  I  goes,  T  sticks  to  this  one  mortar,  '  I'm 
oasy  pleased  ;  it  is  but  little  as  I  wants ;  but  T  must  have  that  little 
of  the  best,  and  to  the  minit  when  the  clock  strikes,  else  we  do  not 
part  as  I  could  wish,  but  bearin'  malice  in  our  arts.'  " 

Her  own  preparations  were  of  the  best,  for  they  comprehended  a  deli- 
cate new  loaf,  a  plate  of  fresh  butter,  a  basin  of  fine  white  sugar  and 


560  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

other  arrangements  on  the  same  scale.  Even  the  snuff  with  which  she 
now  refreshed  herself,  was  so  choice  in  quality,  that  she  took  a  second 
pinch. 

"  There  's  the  little  bell  a  ringing  now,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  hurrying  to 
the  stair-head  and  looking  over.  "Betsy  Prig,  my — why  it's  -ihat 
there  disapintin'  Sweedlepipes,  I  do  believe." 

"  Yes,  it 's  me,"  said  the  barber,  in  a  faint  voice,  "  I  've  just  come  in." 

"  You  're  always  a  comin'  in,  I  think,"  muttered  Mrs.  Gamp  to  her- 
self, "  except  wen  you  're  a-going  out.  I  ha' n't  no  patience  with 
that  man  !" 

"  Mrs.  Gamp  !  "  said  the  barber.    I  say  !  Mrs.  Gamp  !  " 

"  Well  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  impatiently,  as  she  descended  the  stairs. 
"  What  is  it  ?  Is  the  Thames  a-fire,  and  cooking  its  own  fish,  Mr. 
Sweedlepipes  1  Why  wot's  the  man  gone  and  been  a-doin  of  to  himself? 
He  's  as  white  as  chalk  !  " 

She  added  the  latter  clause  of  inquiry,  when  she  got  down  stairs,  and 
found  him  seated  in  the  shaving-chair,  pale  and  disconsolate. 

"  You  recollect,"  said  Poll.     "  You  recollect  young " 

"  Not  young  Wilkins  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  Don't  say  young 
Wilkins,  wotever  you  do.     If  young  Wilkins's  wife  is  took " 

"It  isn't  anybody's  wife,"  exclaimed  the  little  barber.  "Bailey, 
Young  Bailey  ! " 

"  Why,  wot  do  you  mean  to  say  that  chit's  been  a-doin  of?"  retorted 
Mrs.  Gamp,  sharply.     "  Stuff  and  nonsense,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes  ! " 

"  He  hasn't  been  a  doing  anything  ! "  exclaimed  poor  Poll,  quite 
desperate.  "  What  do  you  catch  me  up  go  short  for,  when  you  see  me 
put  out,  to  that  extent,  that  I  can  hardly  speak  1  He  '11  never  do 
anything  again.  He  's  done  for.  He 's  killed.  The  first  time  I  ever 
see  that  boy,"  said  Poll,  "  I  charged  him  too  much  for  a  redpoll.  I 
asked  him  three-halfpence  for  a  penny  one,  because  I  was  afraid  he'd 
beat  me  down.  But  he  did'nt.  And  now  he 's  dead  ;  and  if  you  was 
to  crowd  all  the  steam-engines  and  electric  fluids  that  ever  Avas,  into 
this  shop,  and  set  'em  every  one  to  work  their  hardest,  they  couldn't 
square  the  account,  though  it 's  only  a  ha'penny  !  " 

Mr.  Sweedlepipe  turned  aside  to  the  towel,  and  waped  his  eyes  with  it. 

"  And  what  a  clever  boy  he  was  ! "  he  said.  "  What  a  surprising 
young  chap  he  was  !  How  he  talked  !  and  what  a  deal  he  know'd  1 
Shaved  in  this  very  chair  he  was  ;  only  for  fun  ;  it  was  all  his  fun  ; 
he  was  full  of  it.  Ah  !  to  think  that  he  '11  never  be  shaved  in  earnest  I 
The  birds  might  every  one  have  died,  and  welcome,"-  cried  the  little 
barber,  looking  round  him  at  the  cages,  and  again  appl}'ing  to  the 
towel,  "  sooner  than  I  'd  have  heard  this  news  !  " 

"  How  did  you  ever  come  to  hear  it  ? "  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  Who  told 
you?" 

"  I  went  out,"  returned  the  little  barber,  "  into  the  city,  to  meet  a 
sporting  Gent  upon  the  Stock  Exchange,  that  wanted  a  few  slow 
pigeons  to  practise  at ;  and  when  I  'd  done  with  him,  I  went  to  get  a 
little  drop  of  beer,  and  there  I  heard  everybody  a-talking  about  it.  It 's 
in  tl  e  papers. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  5G1 

"  You  are  in  a  nice  state  of  confugion,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes,  you  are  ! " 
said  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking  her  head ;  "  and  my  opinion  is,  as  half-a- 
dudgeon  fresh  young  lively  leeches  on  your  temples,  wouldn't  be  too  much 
to  clear  your  mind,  which  so  1  tell  you.  Wot  were  they  a-talkin  on,  and 
wot  was  in  the  papers  ?  " 

"  All  about  it !  "  cried  the  barber.  "  What  else  do  you  suppose  1 
Him  and  his  master  were  upset  on  a  journey,  and  he  was  carried  to 
Salisbury,  and  was  breathing  his  last  when  the  account  came  away. 
He  never  spoke  afterwards.  Not  a  single  word.  That 's  the  worst  of 
it  to  me  ;  but  that  an't  all.  His  master  can't  be  found.  The  other 
manager  of  their  office  in  the  city  :  Crimple,  David  Crimple  :  has  gone 
off  with  the  money,  and  is  advertised  for,  with  a  reward,  upon  the  walls. 
Mr.  Montague,  poor  young  Bailey's  master  (what  a  boy  he  was  !)  is 
advertised  for,  too.  Some  say  he  's  slipped  off,  to  join  his  friend  abroad  ; 
some  say  he  mayn't  have  got  away  yet ;  and  they  're  looking  for  him 
high  and  low.  Their  office  is  a  smash  ;  a  swindle  altogether.  But 
what 's  a  Life  Insurance  Office  to  a  Life !  And  what  a  Life  Young 
Bailey's  was  ! " 

"  He  was  born  into  a  wale,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  philosophical  cool- 
ness ;  "  and  he  lived  in  a  wale  ;  and  he  must  take  the  consequences  of  sech 
a  sitiwation.    But  don't  you  hear  nothink  of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  in  all  this  1 " 

"  No,"  said  Poll,  "  nothing  to  speak  of.  His  name  wasn't  printed  as 
one  of  the  board,  though  some  people  say  it  was  just  going  to  be. 
Some  believe  he  was  took  in,  and  some  believe  he  was  one  of  the 
takers-in  ;  but  however  that  may  be,  they  can't  prove  nothing  against 
him.  This  morning  he  went  up  of  his  own  accord  afore  the  Lord  Mayor 
or  some  of  them  city  big-wigs,  and  complained  that  he  'd  been  swindled, 
and  that  these  two  persons  had  gone  off  and  cheated  him,  and  that  he 
had  just  found  out  that  Montague's  name  wasn't  even  Montague,  but 
something  else.  And  they  do  say  that  he  looked  like  Death,  owing  to 
his  losses.  But,  Lord  forgive  me,"  cried  the  barber,  coming  back  again  to 
the  subject  of  his  individual  grief,  "  what 's  his  looks  to  me  !  He  might 
have  died  and  welcome,  fifty  times,  and  not  been  such  a  loss  as  Bailey  ! " 

At  this  juncture  the  little  bell  rang,  and  the  deep  voice  of  Mrs. 
Prig  struck  into  the  conversation. 

"  Oh  !  You  're  a  talkin  about  it,  are  you  ! "  observed  that  lady. 
"  Well,  I  hope  you  've  got  it  over,  for  I  an't  interested  in  it  myself." 

"  My  precious  Betsey,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  how  late  you  are  !  " 

The  worthy  Mrs.  Prig  replied,  with  some  asperity,  '•  that  if  perwerse 
people  went  off  dead,  when  they  was  least  expected,  it  warn't  no  fault  of 
her'n."  And  further,  "  that  it  was  quite  aggrawation  enough  to  be  made 
late  when  one  was  dropping  for  one's  tea,  without  hearing  on  it  again." 

Mrs.  Gamp,  deriving  from  this  exhibition  of  repartee  some  clue  to  the 
state  of  Mrs.  Prig  s  feelings,  instantly  conducted  her  up  stairs  :  deeming 
that  the  sight  of  pickled  salmon  might  work  a  softening  change. 

But  Betsey  Prig  expected  pickled  salmon.  It  was  obvious  that  she 
did  ;  for  her  first  words,  after  glancing  at  the  table,  were  : 

"  I  know'd  she  wouldn't  have  a  coucumber  1 " 

Mrs.  Gamp  changed  colour,  and  sat  down  upon  the  bedstead. 

0  0 


562  LIFE    AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Lord  bless  you,  Betsey  Prig,  your  words  is  true.    I  quite  forgot  it ! "" 

Mrs.  Prig,  looking  steadfastly  at  her  friend,  put  her  hand  in  her 
pocket,  and,  with  an  air  of  surly  triumph,  drew  forth  either  the  oldest 
of  lettuces  or  youngest  of  cabbages,  but  at  any  rate,  a  green  vegetable ; 
of  an  expansive  nature,  and  of  such  magnificent  proportions  that  she  was 
obliged  to  shut  it  up  like  an  umbrella  before  she  could  pull  it  out.  She 
also  produced  a  handful  of  mustard  and  cress,  a  trifle  of  the  herb  called 
dandelion,  three  bunches  of  radishes,  an  onion  rather  larger  than  an 
average  turnip,  three  substantial  slices  of  beet  root,  and  a  short  prong 
or  antler  of  celery ;  the  whole  of  this  garden-stuif  having  been  publicly 
exhibited  but  a  short  time  before  as  a  twopenny  salad,  and  purchased 
by  Mrs.  Prig,  on  condition  that  the  vendor  could  get  it  all  into  her 
pocket.  Which  had  been  happily  accomplished,  in  High  Holborn  :  to 
the  breathless  interest  of  a  hackney-coach  stand.  And  she  laid  so  little 
stress  on  this  surprising  forethought,  that  she  did  not  even  smile,  but 
returning  her  pocket  into  its  accustomed  sphere,  merely  recommended 
that  these  productions  of  nature  should  be  sliced  up,  for  immediate  con- 
sumption, in  plenty  of  vinegar. 

"  And  don't  go  a  dropping  none  of  your  snuff  in  it,"  said  Mrs.  Prig. 
"  In  gruel,  barley-water,  apple-tea,  mutton-broth,  and  that,  it  don't 
signify.     It  stimilates  a  patient.     But  I  don't  relish  it  myself." 

"  Why,  Betsey  Prig  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  how  ca7i  you  talk  so  !  " 

"  What,  an't  your  patients,  wotever  their  diseases  is,  always  a  sneezin 
their  wery  heads  oif,  along  of  your  snuff !  "  said  Mrs.  Prig. 

"  And  wot  if  they  are  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Nothing  if  they  are,"  said  Mrs.  Prig.     "  But  don't  deny  it,  Sairah." 

"  Who  deniges  of  it  1 "  Mrs.  Gamp  inquired. 

Mrs.  Prig  returned  no  answer. 

"Who  deniges  of  it,  Betsey?"  Mrs.  Gamp  inquired  again.  Then 
Mrs.  Gamp,  by  reversing  the  question,  imparted  a  deeper  and  more 
awful  character  of  solemnity  to  the  same.     "  Betsey,  who  deniges  of  it?" 

It  was  the  nearest  possible  approach  to  a  very  decided  difference  of 
opinion  between  these  ladies ;  but  Mrs.  Prig's  impatience  for  the  meal 
being  greater  at  the  moment  than  her  impatience  of  contradiction,  she 
replied,  for  the  present,  "  Nobody,  if  you  don't,  Sairah,"  and  prepared 
herself  for  tea.  For  a  quarrel  can  \)Q  taken  up  at  any  time,  but  a 
limited  quantity  of  salmon  can  not. 

Her  toilet  was  simple.  She  had  merely  to  "  chuck  "  her  bonnet  and 
shawl  upon  the  bed  ;  give  her  hair  two  pulls,  one  upon  the  right  side  and 
one  upon  the  left,  as  if  she  were  ringing  a  couple  of  bells  ;  and  all  was 
done.  The  tea  was  already  made,  Mrs.  Gamp  was  not  long  over  the 
salad,  and  they  were  soon  at  the  height  of  their  repast. 

The  temper  of  both  parties  was  improved,  for  the  time  being,  by  the 
enjoyments  of  the  table.  When  the  meal  came  to  a  termination  (which 
it  was  pretty  long  in  doing),  and  Mrs.  Gamp  having  cleared  away,  pro- 
duced the  tea-pot  from  the  top  shelf,  simultaneously  with  a  couple  of 
wine-glasses,  they  were  quite  amiable. 

"  Betsey,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  filling  her  own  glass,  and  passing  tho 
tea-pot,  "I  will  now  propoge  a  toast.  My  frequent  pardner,  Betsey  Prig  1" 


<7y7?'Z-//  '  yf  V  r  yr  t    </  f >  /      ^t        c  c 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  563 

"  Which,  altering  the  name  to  Sairah  Gamp ;  I  drink,"  said  Mrs. 
Prig,  "with  love  and  tenderness." 

From  this  moment,  symptoms  of  inflammation  began  to  lurk  in  the 
nose  of  each  lady;  and  perhaps,  notwithstanding  all  appearances  to  the 
contrary,  in  the  temper  also. 

"Now  Sairah,"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  "joining  business  with  pleasure,  wot 
is  this  case  in  which  you  wants  me  1 " 

Mrs.  Gamp  betraying  in  her  face  some  intention  of  returning  an 
evasive  answer,  Betsey  added  : 

"  Is  It  Mrs.  Harris  ?  " 

"No,  Betsey  Prig,  it  an't,"  was  Mrs.  Gamp's  reply. 

"Well !  "  said  Mrs.  Prig,  with  a  short  laugh.  "  I'm  glad  of  that,  at 
any  rate." 

"  Why  should  you  be  glad  of  that  Betsey  ? "  Mrs.  Gamp  retorted, 
warmly.  "  She  is  unbeknown  to  you  except  by  hearsay,  why  should  you 
be  glad  1  If  you  have  anythink  to  say  contrairy  to  the  character  of 
Mrs.  Harris,  which  well  I  knows  behind  her  back  afore  her  face  or 
anywheres  is  not  to  be  impeaged,  out  with  it,  Betsey.  I  have  know'd  that 
sweetest  and  best  of  women,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  shaking  her  head,  and  shed- 
ding tears,  "  ever  since  afore  her  First,  which  Mr.  Harris  who  was  dread- 
ful timid  went  and  stopped  his  ears  in  a  empty  dog-kennel,  and  never 
took  his  hands  away  or  come  out  once  till  he  was  showed  the  baby,  wen 
bein  took  with  fits,  the  doctor  collared  him  and  laid  him  on  his  back  upon 
the  airy  stones,  and  she  was  told  to  ease  her  mind,  his  owls  was  organs. 
And  I  have  know'd  her,  Betsey  Prig,  wen  he  has  hurt  her  feelin  art  by 
sayin  of  his  Ninth  that  it  was  one  too  many,  if  not  two,  while  that  dear 
innocent  was  cooln  in  his  face,  which  thrive  it  did  though  bandy,  but  I 
have  never  know'd  as  you  had  occagion  to  be  glad,  Betsey,  on  accounts  of 
Mrs.  Harris  not  requiring  you.  Require  she  never  will,  depend  upon  it, 
for  her  constant  words  in  sickness  is,  and  will  be,  '  Send  for  Sairey  !  ' " 

During  this  touching  address,  Mrs.  Prig  adroitly  feigning  to  be  the 
victim  of  that  absence  of  mind  which  has  its  origin  in  excessive  attention 
to  one  topic,  helped  herself  from  the  tea-pot  without  appearing  to 
observe  it.  Mrs.  Gamp  observed  it,  however,  and  came  to  a  premature 
close  In  consequence. 

"  Well  it  an't  her,  it  seems,"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  coldly  :  "  who  Is  it, 
then  1 " 

"You  have  heerd  me  mention,  Betsey,"  Mrs.  Gamp  replied,  after 
glancing  in  an  expressive  and  marked  manner  at  the  tea-pot,  "  a  person 
as  I  took  care  on  at  the  time  as  you  and  me  was  pardners  off  and  on,  in 
that  there  fever  at  the  Bull  ?  " 

"  Old  Snuffey,"  Mrs.  Prig  observed. 

Sarah  Gamp  looked  at  her  with  an  eye  of  fire,  for  she  saw  in  this 
mistake  of  Mrs.  Prig,  another  wilful  and  malignant  stab  at  that  same 
weakness  or  custom  of  hers,  an  ungenerous  allusion  to  which,  on  the 
part  of  Betsey,  had  first  disturbed  their  harmony  that  evening.  And 
she  saw  it  still  more  clearly,  when,  politely  but  firmly  correcting  that 
lady  by  the  distinct  enunciation  of  the  word  "  Chuffey,"  Mrs.  Prig 
received  the  correction  with  a  diabolical  laugh. 

oo2 


564  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

The  best  amoug  us  have  their  failings,  and  it  must  be  conceded  of 
Mrs.  Prig,  that  if  there  were  a  blemish  in  the  goodness  of  her  disposition, 
it  was  a  habit  she  had  of  not  bestowing  all  its  sharp  and  acid  properties 
upon  her  patients  (as  a  thoroughly  amiable  woman  would  have  done), 
but  of  keeping  a  considerable  remainder  for  the  service  of  her  friends. 
Highly  pickled  salmon,  and  lettuces  chopped  up  in  vinegar,  may,  as 
viands  possessing  some  acidity  of  their  own,  have  encouraged  and 
increased  this  failing  in  Mrs.  Prig ;  and  every  application  to  the  tea- 
pot, certainly  did  ;  for  it  was  often  remarked  of  her  by  her  friends,  that 
she  was  most  contradictory  when  most  elevated.  It  is  certain  that  her 
countenance  became  about  this  time  derisive  and  defiant,  and  that  she 
sat  with  her  arms  folded,  and  one  eye  shut  up  :  in  a  somewhat  offensive, 
because  obtrusively  intelligent,  manner. 

Mrs.  Gamp  observing  this,  felt  it  the  more  necessary  that  Mrs.  Prig 
should  know  her  place,  and  be  made  sensible  of  her  exact  station  in 
society,  as  well  as  of  her  obligations  to  herself.  She  therefore  assumed 
an  air  of  greater  patronage  and  importance,  as  she  went  on  to  answer 
Mrs.  Prig  a  little  more  in  detail. 

"  Mr.  Chuffey,  Betsey,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  is  weak  in  his  mind.  Ex- 
cuge  me  if  I  makes  remark,  that  he  may  neither  be  so  weak  as  people 
thinks,  nor  people  may  not  think  he  is  so  weak  as  they  pretends,  and 
what  I  knows,  I  knovv^s  ;  and  what  you  don't,  you  don't  ;  so  do  not  ask 
me,  Betsey.  But  Mr.  GhufFey's  friends  has  made  propojals  for  his  bein 
took  care  on,  and  has  said  to  me,  '  Mrs.  Gamp,  will  you  undertake  it  ? 
We  couldn't  think,'  they  says,  ^  of  trustin  him  to  nobody  but  you, 
for,  Sairey,  you  are  gold  as  has  passed  through  the  furnage.  Will  you 
undertake  it,  at  your  own  price,  day  and  night,  and  by  your  own  self  % ' 
'  No,'  I  says,  '  I  will  not.  Do  not  reckon  on  it.  There  is,'  I  says,  '  but 
one  creetur  in  the  world  as  I  would  undertake  on  sech  terms,  and  her 
name  is  Harris.  But,'  I  says,  '  I  am  acquainted  with  a  friend,  whose 
name  is  Betsey  Prig,  that  I  can  recomm.end,  and  will  assist  me.  Betsey,' 
I  says,  '  is  always  to  be  trusted,  under  me,  and  will  be  guided  as  I 
could  desire.'" 

Plere  Mrs.  Prig,  without  any  abatement  of  her  offensive  manner,  again 
counterfeited  abstraction  of  mind,  and  stretched  out  her  hand  to  the 
tea-pot.  It  was  more  than  Mrs.  Gamp  could  bear.  She  stopped  the 
hand  of  Mrs.  Prig  with  her  own,  and  said,  with  great  feeling  : 

"  No,  Betsey  !     Drink  fair,  wotever  you  do  !" 

Mrs.  Prig,  thus  baffled,  threw  herself  back  in  her  chair,  and  closing 
the  same  eye  more  emphatically,  and  folding  her  arms  tighter,  suffered 
lier  head  to  roll  slowly  from  side  to  side,  while  she  surveyed  her  friend 
with  a  contemptuous  smile. 

Mrs.  Gamp  resumed  : 

"  Mrs.  Harris,  Betsey ^" 

"  Bother  Mrs.  Harris  !  "  said  Betsey  Prig. 

Mrs.  Gamp  looked  at  her  with  amazement,  incredulity,  and  indig- 
nation ;  when  Mrs.  Prig,  shutting  her  eye  still  closer,  and  folding  her 
arms  still  tighter,  uttered  these  memorable  and  tremendous  words  : 

"I  don't  believe  there  's  no  sich  a  person  !" 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  5Q5 

After  tlie  utterance  of  whicli  expressions,  slie  leaned  forward,  and 
snapped  her  fingers  once,  twice,  thrice  ;  each  time  nearer  to  the  face  of 
Mrs.  Gamp  ;  and  then  rose  to  put  on  her  bonnet,  as  one  who  felt  that 
there  was  now  a  gulf  between  them,  which  nothing  could  ever  bridge 
across. 

The  shock  of  this  blow  was  so  violent  and  sudden,  that  Mrs.  Gamp 
sat  staring  at  nothing  with  uplifted  eyes,  and  her  mouth  open  as  if  she 
w^ere  gasping  for  breath,  until  Betsey  Prig  had  got  on  her  bonnet  and  her 
shawl,  and  was  gathering  the  latter  about  her  throat.  Then  Mrs.  Gamp 
rose — morally  and  physically  rose — and  denounced  her. 

"What!"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "you  bage  creetur,  have  I  know'd  Mrs. 
Harris  five  and  thirty  year,  to  be  told  at  last  that  there  an't  no  sech 
a  person  livin  1  Have  I  stood  her  friend  in  all  her  troubles,  great  and 
small,  for  it  to  come  at  last  to  sech  a  end  as  this,  which  her  own  sweet 
picter  hanging  up  afore  you  all  the  time,  to  shame  your  Bragian 
words !  But  well  you  mayn't  believe  there's  no  sech  a  creetur,  for  she 
wouldn't  demean  herself  to  look  at  you,  and  often  has  she  said,  when 
I  have  made  mention  of  your  name,  which,  to  my  sinful  sorrow,  I  have 
done, '  What,  Sairey  Gamp !  debage  yourself  to  //er  ! '    Go  along  with  you  ! " 

"  I  'm  a  goin,  ma'am,  ain't  I?"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  stopping  as  she  said  it. 

"  You  had  better,  ma'am,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Do  you  know  who  you  're  talking  to,  ma'am  ?  "  inquired  her  visitor. 

"  Aperiently,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  surveying  her  with  scorn  from  head 
to  foot,  "  to  Betsey  Prig.  Aperiently  so.  I  know  her.  No  one  better. 
Go  along  with  you,  do  !  " 

"  And  you  was  a  going  to  take  me  under  you  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Prig,  sur- 
veying Mrs.  Gamp  from  head  to  foot  in  her  turn.  "  You  was,  was  you  ! 
Oh,  how  kind  !  Why,  deuce  take  your  imperence,"  said  Mrs.  Prig,  with 
a  rapid  change  from  banter  to  ferocity,  "  what  do  you  mean  ! " 

"  Go  along  with  you  !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp.     "  I  blush  for  5^ou." 

"  You  had  better  blush  a  little  for  yourself,  while  you  are  about  it !  " 
said  Mrs.  Prig.  "  You  and  your  Chuffeys  !  What,  the  poor  old  creetur 
isn't  mad  enough,  isn't  he  ?     Aha  !  " 

"  He  'd  very  soon  be  mad  enough,  if  you  had  anythink  to  do  with 
him,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  And  that 's  what  I  was  wanted  for,  is  it  ? "  cried  Mrs.  Prig, 
triumphantly.  "  Yes.  But  you  '11  find  yourself  deceived.  I  won't  go 
near  him.  We  shall  see  how  you  get  on  without  me.  I  won't  have 
nothink  to  do  with  him." 

"  You  never  spoke  a  truer  word  than  that !  "  said  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  Go 
along  with  you  !  " 

She  was  prevented  from  witnessing  the  actual  retirement  of  Mrs.  Prig 
from  the  room,  notwithstanding  the  great  desire  she  had  expressed  to 
behold  it,  by  that  lady,  in  her  angry  withdrawal,  coming  into  contact 
with  the  bedstead,  and  bringing  dov/n  the  previously-mentioned  pippins  ; 
three  or  four  of  which  came  rattling  on  the  head  of  Mrs.  Gamp  so 
smartly,  that  when  she  recovered  from  this  wooden  shower-bath, 
Mrs.  Prig  was  gone. 

She  had  the  satisfaction,  however,  of  hearing  the  deep  voice  of  Betsey, 
proclaiming  her  injuries  and  her  determination  to  have  nothing  to  do 


56Q  LIFE    AND    ADVENTTJEES    OP 

with  Mr.  ChufFey,  down  the  stairs,  and  along  the  passage,  and  even  out 
in  Kingsgate-street,  Likewise,  of  seeing  in  her  own  apartment,  in  the 
place  of  Mrs.  Prig,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe  and  two  gentlemen. 

"  Why,  bless  my  life  !  "  exclaimed  the  little  barber,  "  What 's  amiss  1 
The  noise  you  ladies  have  been  making,  Mrs.  Gamp  !  Why,  these  two 
gentlemen  have  been  standing  on  the  stairs,  outside  the  door,  nearly  all 
the  time,  trying  to  make  you  hear,  while  you  were  pelting  away,  hammer 
and  tongs  !  It  11  be  the  death  of  the  little  bulfinch  in  the  shop,  that 
draws  his  own  water.  In  his  fright,  he  's  been  a  straining  himself  all  to 
bits,  drawing  more  water  than  he  could  drink  in  a  twelvemonth.  He 
must  have  thought  it  was  Fire  !  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  had  in  the  meanwhile  sunk  into  her  chair,  from  whence, 
turning  up  her  overflowing  eyes,  and  clasping  her  hands,  she  delivered 
the  following  lamentation  : 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes,  which  Mr.  Westlock  also,  if  my  eyes  do  not 
deceive  me,  and  a  friend  not  havin  the  pleasure  of  bein  beknown,  wot 
I  have  took  from  Betsey  Prig  this  blessed  night,  no  mortial  creetur 
knows  !  If  she  had  abuged  me,  bein  in  liquor,  which  I  thought  I 
smelt  her  wen  she  come,  but  could  not  so  believe,  not  bein  used  myself " 
— Mrs.  Gamp,  by  the  way,  was  pretty  far  gone,  and  the  fragrance  of  the 
tea-pot  was  strong  in  the  room — "  I  could  have  bore  it  with  a  thankful 
art.  But  the  words  she  spoke  of  Mrs.  Harris,  lambs  could  not  forgive. 
No,  Betsey  1 "  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  in  a  violent  burst  of  feeling,  "  nor 
worms  forget  !  " 

The  little  barber  scratched  his  head,  and  shook  it,  and  looked  at  the 
teapot,  and  gradually  got  out  of  the  room.  John  Westlock,  taking  a 
chair,  sat  down  on  one  side  of  Mrs.  Gamp.  Martin,  taking  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  supported  her  on  the  other. 

"  You  wonder  what  we  want,  I  dare  say,"  observed  John.  "  I  '11  tell 
you  presently,  when  you  have  recovered.  It 's  not  pressing,  for  a  few 
minutes  or  so.     How  do  you  find  yourself  1    Better  ?  " 

Mrs.  Gamp  shed  more  tears,  shook  her  head,  and  feebly  pronounced 
Mrs.  Harris's  name. 

"  Have  a  little — "  John  was  at  a  loss  what  to  call  it. 

"  Tea,"  suggested  Martin. 

"  It  ain't  tea,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Physic  of  some  sort,  I  suppose,"  cried  John.     "  Have  a  little." 

Mrs.  Gamp  was  prevailed  upon  to  take  a  glassful.  "  On  condition," 
she  passionately  observed,  "  as  Betsey  never  has  another  stroke  of  work 
from  me." 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  John.     "  She  shall  never  help  to  nurse  me.''^ 

"  To  think,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  as  she  should  ever  have  helped  to 
nuss  that  friend  of  yourn,  and  been  so  near  of  hearing  things  that— « 
Ah!" 

John  looked  at  Martin. 
,     *'  Yes,"  he  said.     "  That  was  a  narrow  escape,  Mrs.  Gamp." 

"  Narrer,  in-deed  !"  she  returned.  "  It  was  only  my  having  the  night, 
and  hearin  of  him  in  his  wanderins ;  and  her  the  day,  that  saved  it.  Wot 
would  she  have  said  and  done,  if  she  had  know'd  what  /  know ;  that 
perfeejus  wretch  !    Yet,  oh  good  gracious  me  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  tramp- 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  567 

ling  on  the  floor,  in  the  absence  of  Mrs.  Prig,  "  that  I  should  hear  from 
that  same  woman's  lips  what  I  have  heerd  her  speak  of  Mrs.  Harris  1 " 
"  Never  mind,"  said  John.  "  You  know  it  is  not  true." 
"  Isn't  true  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  True  !  Don't  I  know  as  that 
■dear  woman  is  expectin  of  me  at  this  minnit,  Mr.  Westlock,  and  is  a 
lookin  out  of  winder  down  the  street,  with  little  Tommy  Harris  in  her 
arms,  as  calls  me  his  own  Gammy,  and  truly  calls  for  bless  the  mottled 
little  legs  of  that  there  precious  child  (like  Canterbury  Brawn  his  own 
dear  father  says,  which  so  they  are)  his  own.  I  have  been,  ever  since  I 
found  him,  Mr.  Westlock,  with  his  small  red  worsted  shoe  a  gurglin  in 
his  throat,  where  he  had  put  it  in  his  play,  a  chick,  wile  they  was 
leavin  of  him  on  the  floor  a  lookin  for  it  through  the  ouse  and  him  a 
choakin  sweetly  in  the  parlor!  Oh,  Betsey  Prig,  wot  wickedness  you've 
shewed  this  night,  but  never  shall  you  darken  Sairey's  doors  agen,  you 
twining  serpiant  1 " 

"  You  were  always  so  kind  to  her,  too!"  said  John,  consolingly. 
"  That 's  the  cuttin  part.     That 's  where  it  hurts  me,  Mr.  Westlock," 
Mrs.  Gamp  replied ;  holding  out  her  glass  unconsciously,  while  Martin 
filled  it. 

"Chosen  to  help  you  with  Mr.  Lewsome  !"  said  John.  "Chosen  to 
help  you  with  Mr.  Chufley!" 

"  Chose  once,  but  chose  no  more,"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  No  pardner- 
ship  with  Betsey  Prig  agen  sir  !  " 

"  No  no,"  said  John.     "  That  would  never  do." 

"  I  don't  know  as  it  ever  would  have  done,  sir,"  Mrs.  Gamp  replied, 
with  the  solemnity  peculiar  to  a  certain  stage  of  intoxication.  "  Now 
that  the  marks,"  by  which  Mrs.  Gamp  is  supposed  to  have  meant  mask, 
"  is  ofl"  that  creetur's  face,  I  do  not  think  it  ever  would  have  done. 
There  are  reagions  in  families  for  keepin  things  a  secret,  Mr.  Westlock, 
and  havin  only  them  about  you  as  you  knows  you  can  repoge  in.  Who 
could  repoge  in  Betsey  Prig,  arter  her  words  of  Mrs.  Harris,  settin  in 
that  chair  afore  my  eyes  !  " 

"  Quite  true,"  said  John :  "  quite.  I  hope  you  have  time  to  find 
another  assistant,  Mrs.  Gamp  ] " 

Betv/een  her  indignation  and  the  tea-pot,  her  powers  of  comprehend- 
ing what  was  said  to  her  began  to  fail.  She  looked  at  John  with 
tearful  eyes,  and  murmuring  the  well-remembered  name  which  Mrs.  Prig 
had  challenged — as  if  it  were  a  talisman  against  all  earthly  sorrows — 
seemed  to  wander  in  her  mind. 

"I  hope,"  repeated  John,  "that  you  have  time  to  find  another 
assistant  ? " 

"  Which  short  it  is,  indeed,"  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  turning  up  her  languid 
eyes,  and  clasping  Mr,  Westlock's  wrist  with  matronly  aflection.  "  To- 
morrow evenin,  sir,  I  waits  upon  his  friends.  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  apinted 
it  from  nine  to  ten." 

"  From  nine  to  ten,"  said  John,  with  a  significant  glance  at  Martin  j 
^'  and  then  Mr.  Chufley  retires  into  safe  keeping,  does  he  1 " 

"  He  needs  to  be  kep  safe,  I  do  assure  you,"  Mrs.  Gamp  replied,  with 
a  mysterious  air.  "  Other  people  besides  me  has  had  a  happy  deliverance 
from  Betsey  Prig.    I  little  know'd  that  woman.    She'd  have  let  it  out  i" 


568  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  Let  him  out,  you  mean,"  said  John. 

"  Do  I ! "  retorted  Mrs.  Gamp.     "  Oh  !  " 

The  severely  ironical  character  of  this  reply  was  strengthened  by  a  very 
slow  nod,  and  a  still  slower  drawing  dovni  of  the  corners  of  Mrs,  Gamp's 
mouth.  She  added  with  extreme  stateliness  of  manner,  after  indulging 
in  a  short  doze  : 

"  But  I  am  a  keepin  of  you  gentlemen,  and  time  is  precious." 

Mingling  with  that  delusion  of  the  tea-pot  which  inspired  her  with 
the  belief  that  they  wanted  her  to  go  somewhere  immediately,  a  shrewd 
avoidance  of  any  further  reference  to  the  topics  into  which  she  had 
lately  strayed,  Mrs.  Gamp  rose  ;  and  putting  away  the  tea-pot  in  its 
accustomed  place,  and  locking  the  cupboard  with  much  gravity,  pro- 
ceeded to  attire  herself  for  a  professional  visit. 

This  preparation  was  easily  made,  as  it  required  nothing  more  than 
the  snuffy  black  bonnet,  the  snuffy  black  shawl,  the  pattens,  and  the 
indispensable  umbrella,  without  which  neither  a  lying-in  nor  a  laying- 
out  could  by  any  possibility  be  attempted.  When  Mrs.  Gamp  had 
invested  herself  with  these  appendages  she  returned  to  her  chair,  and 
sitting  down  again,  declared  herself  quite  ready. 

"  It 's  a  appiness  to  know  as  one  can  benefit  the  poor  sweet  creetur," 
she  observed,  "  I  'm  sure.  It  isn't  all  as  can.  The  torters  Betsy  Prig 
inflicts  is  frightful." 

Closing  her  eyes  as  she  made  this  remark,  in  the  acuteness  of  her 
commiseration  for  Betsy's  patients,  she  forgot  to  open  them  again  until 
she  dropped  a  patten.  Her  nap  was  also  broken  at  intervals,  like  the 
fabled  slumbers  of  Friar  Bacon,  by  the  dropping  of  the  other  patten, 
and  of  the  umbrella  ;  but  when  she  had  got  rid  of  these  incumbrances, 
her  sleep  was  peaceful. 

The  two  young  men  looked  at  each  other,  ludicrously  enough  ;  and 
Martin,  stifling  his  disposition  to  laugh,  whispered  in  John  West- 
lock's  ear  : 

"  What  shall  we  do  now  ? " 

"  Stay  here,"  he  replied. 

Mrs.  Gamp  was  heard  to  murmur  "  Mrs.  Harris  !  "  in  her  sleep. 

"  Rely  upon  it,"  whispered  John,  looking  cautiously  towards  her, 
"that  you  shall  question  this  old  clerk,  though  you  go  as  Mrs.  Harris 
herself.  We  know  quite  enough  to  carry  her  our  own  way  now,  at  all 
events  ;  thanks  to  this  quarrel,  which  confirms  the  old  saying  that, 
when  rogues  fall  out,  honest  people  get  what  they  want.  Let  Jonas 
Chuzzlewit  look  to  himself ;  and  let  her  sleep  as  long  as  she  likes.  We 
shall  gain  our  end  in  good  time." 


CHAPTER  L. 

SURPRISES  TOM  PINCH  VERY  MUCH,  AND  SHOWS  HOW  CERTAIN  CONFIDENCES 
PASSED  BETWEEN  HIM  AND  HIS  SISTER. 

It  was  the  next  evening  ;  and  Tom  and  his  sister  were  sitting  together 
before  tea,  talking,  in  their  usual  quiet  way,  about  a  great  many  things, 
but  not  at  all  about  Lewsome's  story  or  anything  connected  with  it ;  for 


MARTIN    CliUZZLEWIT.  569 

John  Westlock — really  John,  for  so  young  a  man,  was  one  of  the  most 
considerate  fellows  in  the  world — had  particularly  advised  Tom  not  to 
mention  it  to  his  sister  just  yet,  in  case  it  should  disquiet  her.  "  And 
I  wouldn't,  Tom,"  he  said,  with  a  little  hesitation,  "  I  wouldn't  have  a 
shadow  on  her  happy  face,  or  an  uneasy  thought  in  her  gentle  heart, 
for  all  the  wealth  and  honours  of  the  universe  !"  Really  John  was 
uncommonly  kind  ;  extraordinarily  kind.  If  he  had  been  her  father, 
Tom  said,  he  could  not  have  taken  a  greater  interest  in  her. 

But  although  Tom  and  his  sister  were  extremely  conversational,  they 
were  less  lively,  and  less  cheerful,  than  usual.  Tom  had  no  idea  that 
this  originated  with  Ruth,  but  took  it  for  granted  that  he  was  rather 
dull  himself.  In  truth  he  was  ;  for  the  lightest  cloud  upon  the  Heaven 
of  her  quiet  mind,  cast  its  shadow  upon  Tom. 

And  there  was  a  cloud  on  little  Ruth  that  evening.  Yes,  indeed. 
When  Tom  was  looking  in  another  direction,  her  bright  eyes,  stealing 
on  towards  his  face,  would  sparkle  still  more  brightly  than  their  custom 
was,  and  then  grow  dim.  When  Tom  was  silent,  looking  out  upon  the 
summer  weather,  she  would  sometimes  make  a  hasty  movement,  as  if 
she  were  about  to  throw  herself  upon  his  neck ;  then  check  the  impulse, 
and  when  he  looked  round,  show  a  laughing  face,  and  speak  to  him 
very  merrily.  When  she  had  anything  to  give  Tom,  or  had  any  excuse 
for  coming  near  him,  she  would  flutter  about  him,  and  lay  her  little 
bashful  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  not  be  willing  to  withdraw  it ;  and 
would  show  by  all  such  means  that  there  was  something  on  her  heart 
which  in  her  great  love  she  longed  to  say  to  him,  but  had  not  the 
courage  to  utter. 

So  they  were  sitting,  she  with  her  work  before  her,  but  not  working, 
and  Tom  with  his  book  beside  him,  but  not  reading,  when  Martin 
knocked  at  the  door.  Anticipating  who  it  was,  Tom  went  to  open  it ; 
and  he  and  Martin  came  back  into  the  room  together.  Tom  looked 
surprised,  for  in  answer  to  his  cordial  greeting  Martin  had  hardly  spoken 
a  word. 

Ruth  also  saw  that  there  was  something  strange  in  the  manner  of 
their  visitor,  and  raised  her  eyes  inquiringly  to  Tom's  face,  as  if  she 
were  seeking  an  explanation  there.  Tom  shook  his  head,  and  made  the 
same  mute  appeal  to  Martin. 

Martin  did  not  sit  down,  but  walked  up  to  the  window,  and  stood 
there,  looking  out.  He  turned  round  after  a  few  moments  to  speak, 
but  hastily  averted  his  head  again,  without  doing  so. 

"  What  has  happened,  Martin  ?"  Tom  anxiously  inquired.  "  My  dear 
fellow,  what  bad  news  do  you  bring]" 

"  Oh  Tom  ! "  replied  Martin,  in  a  tone  of  deep  reproach.  "  To  hear 
you  feign  that  interest  in  anything  that  happens  to  me,  hurts  me  even 
more  than  your  ungenerous  dealing." 

"  My  ungenerous  dealing  !  Martin  !  My — "  Tom  could  get  no 
further. 

"  How  could  you  Tom,  how  could  you  suffer  me  to  thank  you  so  fer- 
vently and  sincerely  for  your  friendship  ;  and  not  tell  me,  like  a  man, 
that  you  had  deserted  me  !  Was  it  true,  Tom  !  Was  it  honest  !  Was 
it  worthy  of  what  you  used  to  be  :  of  what  I  am  sure  you  used  to  be : 


570  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

to  tempt  me,  when  you  had  turned  against  me,  into  pouring  out  my 
heart!     Oh  Tom  !" 

His  tone  was  one  of  such  strong  injury  and  yet  of  so  much  grief  for 
the  loss  of  a  friend  he  had  trusted  in  ;  it  expressed  such  high  past  love 
for  Tom,  and  so  much  sorrow  and  compassion  for  his  supposed  unwor- 
thiness ;  that  Tom,  for  a  moment,  put  his  hand  before  his  face,  and  had 
no  more  power  of  justifying  himself,  than  if  he  had  been  a  monster  of 
deceit  and  falsehood. 

"  I  protest,  as  I  must  die,"  said  Martin,  "  that  I  grieve  over  the  loss 
of  what  I  thought  you  ;  and  have  no  anger  in  the  recollection  of  my 
own  injuries.  It  is  only  at  such  a  time,  and  after  such  a  discovery, 
that  we  know  the  full  measure  of  our  old  regard  for  the  subject 
of  it.  And  I  swear,  little  as  I  showed  it ;  little  as  I  know  I  showed  it ; 
that  when  I  had  the  least  consideration  for  you,  Tom,  I  loved  you  like 
a  brother." 

Tom  was  composed  by  this  time,  and  might  have  been  the  Spirit  of 
Truth,  in  a  homely  dress — it  very  often  wears  a  homely  dress,  thank 
€rod  ! — when  he  replied  to  him  : 

"  Martin,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  know  what  is  in  your  mind,  or  who  has 
abused  it,  or  by  what  extraordinary  means.  But  the  means  are  false. 
There  is  no  truth  whatever  in  the  impression  under  which  you  labour. 
It  is  a  delusion  from  first  to  last ;  and  I  warn  you  that  you  will  deeply 
regret  the  wrong  you  do  me.  I  can  honestly  say  that  I  have  been  true 
to  you,  and  to  myself.  You  will  be  very  sorry  for  this.  Indeed,  you 
will  be  very  sorry  for  it,  Martin." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  returned  Martin,  shaking  his  head.  *'  I  never  knew 
what  it  was  to  be  sorry  in  my  heart,  until  now." 

"  At  least,"  said  Tom,  "  if  I  had  always  been  what  you  charge  me 
with  being  now,  and  had  never  had  a  place  in  your  regard,  but  had 
always  been  despised  by  you,  and  had  always  deserved  it,  you  would 
tell  me  in  what  you  have  found  me  to  be  treacherous  ;  and  on  what 
grounds  you  proceed.  I  do  not  intreat  you,  therefore,  to  give  me  that 
satisfaction  as  a  favour,  Martin  ;  but  I  ask  it  of  you  as  a  right." 

"  My  own  eyes  are  my  witnesses,"  returned  Martin.  "  Am  I  to 
believe  them  1 " 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  calmly.     "  Not  if  they  accuse  me." 

"  Your  own  words.  Your  own  manner,"  pursued  Martin.  "  Am  I 
to  believe  themT'' 

"  No,"  replied  Tom,  calmly.  "  Not  if  they  accuse  me.  But  they 
never  have  accused  me.  Whoever  has  perverted  them  to  such  a  purpose, 
has  wronged  me,  almost  as  cruelly  j "  his  calmness  rather  failed  him 
here  ;  "  as  you  have  done." 

"  I  came  here,"  said  Martin  ;  "  and  I  appeal  to  your  good  sister  to 
hear  me " 

"  Not  to  her,"  interrupted  Tom.  "  Pray,  do  not  appeal  to  her.  She 
will  never  believe  you." 

He  drew  her  arm  through  his  own,  as  he  said  it. 

"/believe  it,  Tom!" 

"  No,  no,"  cried  Tom,  "  of  course  not.  I  said  so.  Why,  tut,  tut, 
tut.     What  a  silly  little  thing  you  are  !" 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  571 

"I  never  meant,"  said  Martin,  hastily,  "to  appeal  to  you  against 
jour  brother.  Do  not  think  me  so  unmanly  and  unkind.  I  merely 
appealed  to  you  to  hear  my  declaration,  that  I  came  here  for  no  purpose 
of  reproach  :  I  have  not  one  to  vent :  but  in  deep  regret.  You  could 
not  know  in  what  bitterness  of  regret,  unless  you  knew  how  often  I 
have  thought  of  Tom ;  how  long  in  almost  hopeless  circumstances,  I 
have  looked  forward  to  the  better  estimation  of  his  friendship  ;  and 
how  stedfastly  I  have  believed  and  trusted  in  him," 

"  Tut,  tut,"  said  Tom,  stopping  her  as  she  was  about  to  speak.  "  He 
is  mistaken.  He  is  deceived.  Why  should  you  mind  ?  He  is  sure  to 
be  set  right  at  last." 

"Heaven  bless  the  day  that  sets  me  right!"  cried  Martin,  "if  it 
could  ever  come  !" 

"'  Amen  ! "  said  Tom.     "  And  it  will !" 

Martin  paused,  and  then  said  in  a  still  milder  voice  : 

"  You  have  chosen  for  yourself,  Tom,  and  will  be  relieved  by  our 
parting.     It  is  not  an  angry  one.     There  is  no  anger  on  my  side — " 

"  There  is  none  on  mine,"  said  Tom. 

" — It  is  merely  what  you  have  brought  about,  and  worked  to  bring 
about.  I  say  again,  you  have  chosen  for  yourself.  You  have  made  the 
choice  that  might  have  been  expected  in  most  people  situated  as  you 
are,  but  which  I  did  not  expect  in  you.  For  that,  perhaps,  I  should 
blame  my  own  judgment  more  than  you.  There  is  wealth  and  favour 
worth  having,  on  one  side ;  and  there  is  the  worthless  friendship  of  an 
abandoned,  struggling  fellow,  on  the  other.  You  were  free  to  make 
your  election,  and  you  made  it ;  and  the  choice  was  not  difficult.  But 
those  who  have  not  the  courage  to  resist  such  temptations,  should  have 
the  courage  to  avow  that  they  have  yielded  to  them  ;  and  I  do  blame 
you  for  this,  Tom  :  that  you  received  me  with  a  show  of  warmth, 
encouraged  me  to  be  frank  and  plain-spoken,  tempted  me  to  confide  in 
you,  and  professed  that  you  were  able  to  be  mine ;  when  you  had  sold 
yourself  to  others.  I  do  not  believe,"  said  Martin,  with  great  emo- 
tion :  "  hear  me  say  it  from  my  heart ;  I  cannot  believe,  Tom,  now  that 
I  am  standing  face  to  face  with  you,  that  it  would  have  been  in  your 
nature  to  do  me  any  serious  harm,  even  though  I  had  not  discovered, 
by  chance,  in  whose  employment  you  were.  But  I  should  have  incum- 
bered you  ;  I  should  have  led  you  into  more  double-dealing  ;  I  should 
have  hazarded  your  retaining  the  favour  for  which  you  have  paid  so 
high  a  price,  bartering  away  your  former  self ;  and  it  is  best  for  both 
of  us  that  I  have  found  out  what  you  so  much  desired  to  keep  secret." 

"  Be  just,"  said  Tom  ;  who  had  not  removed  his  mild  gaze  from  Mar- 
tin's face  since  the  commencement  of  this  last  address  ;  "  be  just  even 
in  your  injustice,  Martin.  You  forget.  You  have  not  yet  told  me 
what  your  accusation  is  !  " 

"  Why  should  IV  returned  Martin,  waving  his  hand,  and  moving 
towards  the  door.  "  You  could  not  know  it  the  better  for  my  dwell- 
ing on  it,  and  though  it  would  be  really  none  the  worse,  it  might 
seem  to  me  to  be.  No,  Tom.  Bygones  shall  be  bygones  between 
us.  I  can  take  leave  of  you  at  this  moment,  and  in  this  place  : 
in   which  you   are   so   amiable  and  so  good :   as   heartily,  if  not  as 


572  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

clieerfully,  as  ever  I  have  done  since  we  first  met.    All  good  go  with 
you,  Tom  ! — I — " 

"  You  leave  me  so  1     You  can  leave  me  so,  can  you  1 "  said  Tom. 

«  I — you — you  have  chosen  for  yourself,  Tom  !  I — I  hope  it  was  a 
rash  choice,"  Martin  faltered.  "  I  think  it  was.  I  am  sure  it  was ! 
Good  bye  !  " 

And  he  was  gone. 

Tom  led  his  little  sister  to  her  chair,  and  sat  down  in  his  own.  He 
took  his  book,  and  read,  or  seemed  to  read.  Presently  he  said  aloud  : 
turning  a  leaf  as  he  spoke  :  "  He  will  be  very  sorry  for  this."  And  a 
tear  stole  down  his  face,  and  dropped  upon  the  page. 

Ruth  nestled  down  beside  him  on  her  knees,  and  clasped  her  arms 
about  his  neck. 

"  No  Tom  !     No  no  !     Be  comforted  !     Dear  Tom !  " 

"  I  am  quite — comforted,"  said  Tom.     "  It  will  be  set  right." 

"  Such  a  cruel,  bad  return  !  "  cried  Pbuth. 

"  No  no,"  said  Tom.  '*'  He  believes  it.  I  cannot  imagine  why.  But 
it  will  be  set  right." 

More  closely  yet,  she  nestled  down  about  him;  and  wept  as  if  her 
heart  would  break. 

"  Don't.    Don't,"  said  Tom.    "  Why  do  you  hide  your  face,  my  dear  !" 

Then  in  a  burst  of  tears,  it  all  broke  out  at  last. 

"  Oh  Tom,  dear  Tom,  I  know  your  secret  heart.  I  have  found  it  out ; 
you  couldn't  hide  the  truth  from  me.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  ]  I  am 
sure  I  could  have  made  you  happier,  if  you  had  !  You  love  her  Tom, 
so  dearly ! " 

Tom  made  a  motion  with  his  hand  as  if  he  would  have  put  his  sister 
hurriedly  away ;  but  it  clasped  upon  hers,  and  all  his  little  history  was 
written  in  the  action.  All  its  pathetic  eloquence  was  in  the  silent  touch. 

"  In  spite  of  that,"  said  Ruth,  "  you  have  been  so  faithful  and  so  good, 
dear ;  in  spite  of  that,  you  have  been  so  true  and  self-denying,  and 
have  struggled  with  yourself ;  in  spite  of  that,  you  have  been  so  gentle, 
and  so  kind,  and  even-tempered,  that  I  have  never  seen  you  give  a 
hasty  look,  or  heard  you  say  one  irritable  word.  In  spite  of  all,  you 
have  been  so  cruelly  mistaken.  Oh  Tom,  dear  Tom,  loved  as  no  other 
brother  can  be,  will  this  be  set  right  too  !  Will  it  Tom  !  Will  you 
always  have  this  sorrow  in  your  breast  :  you  who  deserve  to  be  so 
happy  :  or  is  there  any  hope  ! " 

And  still  she  hid  her  face  from  Tom,  and  clasped  him  round  the  neck, 
and  wept  for  him,  and  poured  out  all  her  woman's  heart  and  soul  in  the 
relief  and  pain  of  this  disclosure. 

It  was  not  very  long  before  she  and  Tom  were  sitting  side  by  side, 
and  she  was  looking  with  an  earnest  quietness  in  Tom's  face.  Then 
Tom  spoke  to  her  thus  :  cheerily,  though  gravely. 

"  I  am  very  glad,  my  dear,  that  this  has  passed  between  us.  Not 
because  it  assures  me  of  your  tender  affection  (for  I  was  well  assured  of 
that,  before),  but  because  it  relieves  my  mind  of  a  great  weight." 

Tom's  eyes  glistened  when  he  spoke  of  her  affection ;  and  he  kissed 
her  on  the  cheek. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  Tom  :    "  with  whatever  feeling  I  regard  her  ; " 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT  573 

they  seemed  to  avoid  the  name  by  mutual  consent ;  "  I  have  long  ago 
— I  am  sure  I  may  say  from  the  very  first — looked  upon  it  as  a  dream. 
As  something  that  might  possibly  have  happened  under  very  different 
circumstances,  but  which  can  never  be.  Now,  tell  me.  What  would 
you  have  set  right  1 " 

She  gave  Tom  such  a  significant  little  look,  that  he  was  obliged  to 
take  it  for  an  answer  whether  he  would  or  no ;  and  to  go  on. 

"  By  her  own  choice  and  free  consent,  my  love,  she  is  betrothed  to 
Martin  ;  and  was,  long  before  either  of  them  knew  of  my  existence. 
You  would  have  her  betrothed  to  me?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said  directly. 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  Tom,  "  but  that  might  be  setting  it  wrong,  instead  of 
right.  Do  you  think,"  said  Tom,  with  a  grave  smile,  "  that  even  if  she 
had  never  seen  him,  it  is  very  likely  she  would  have  fallen  in  love  with  Mel" 

"  Why  not,-  dear  Tom  ? " 

Tom  shook  his  head,  and  smiled  again. 

"  You  think  of  me,  Ruth,"  said  Tom,  "  and  it  is  very  natural  that  ypu 
should,  as  if  I  were  a  character  in  a  book  ;  and  you  make  it  a  sort  of 
poetical  justice  that  I  should,  by  some  impossible  means  or  other,  come, 
at  last,  to  marry  the  person  I  love.  But  there  is  a  much  higher  justice 
than  poetical  justice  my  dear,  and  it  does  not  order  events  upon  the 
same  principle.  Accordingly  people  who  read  about  heroes  in  books, 
and  choose  to  make  heroes  of  themselves  out  of  books,  consider  it 
a  very  fine  thing  to  be  discontented  and  gloomy,  and  misanthropical, 
and  perhaps  a  little  blasphemous,  because  they  cannot  have  everything 
ordered  for  their  individual  accommodation.  Would  you  like  me  to 
become  one  of  that  sort  of  people  1 " 

"  No,  Tom.  But  still  I  know,"  she  added  timidly,  "  that  this  is  a 
sorrow  to  you  in  your  own  better  way." 

Tom  thought  of  disputing  the  position.  But  it  would  have  been 
mere  folly,  and  he  gave  it  up. 

"  My  dear,"  said  Tom,  "  I  will  repay  your  affection  with  the  Truth, 
and  all  the  Truth.  It  is  a  sorrow  to  me.  I  have  proved  it  to  be  so 
sometimes,  though  I  have  always  striven  against  it.  But  somebody 
who  is  precious  to  you  may  die,  and  you  may  dream  that  you  are  in 
heaven  with  the  departed  spirit,  and  you  may  find  it  a  sorrow  to  wake 
to  the  life  on  earth,  which  is  no  harder  to  be  borne  than  when  you  fell 
asleep.  It  is  sorrowful  to  me  to  contemplate  my  dream,  which  I  always 
knew  was  a  dream,  even  when  it  first  presented  itself;  but  the  realities 
about  me  are  not  to  blame.  They  are  the  same  as  they  were.  My 
sister,  my  sweet  companion,  who  makes  this  place  so  dear,  is  she  less 
devoted  to  me,  Ruth,  than  she  would  have  been,  if  this  vision  had  never 
troubled  me  ?  My  old  friend  John,  who  might  so  easily  have  treated 
me  with  coldness  and  neglect,  is  he  less  cordial  to  me  1  The  world 
about  me,  is  there  less  good  in  that  1  Are  my  words  to  be  harsh  and 
my  looks  to  be  sour,  and  is  my  heart  to  grow  cold,  because  there  has 
fiillen  in  my  way  a  good  and  beautiful  creature,  who  but  for  the  selfish 
regret  that  I  cannot  call  her  my  own,  would,  like  all  other  good  and 
beautiful  creatures,  make  me  happier  and  better  !  No,  my  dear  sister. 
No,"  said  Tom,  stoutly.     "Remembering  all  my  means  of  happiness,  I 


574  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

hardly  dare  to  call  this  lurking  something,  a  sorrow ;  hut  whatever 
name  it  may  justly  bear,  I  thank  Heaven  that  it  renders  me  more 
sensible  of  affection  and  attachment,  and  softens  me  in  fifty  ways.  Not 
less  happy.     Not  less  happy,  Ruth  ! " 

She  could  not  speak  to  him,  but  she  loved  him,  as  he  well  deserved. 
Even  as  he  deserved,  she  loved  him. 

"  She  will  open  Martin's  eyes,"  said  Tom,  with  a  glow  of  pride,  "  and 
that  (which  is  indeed  wrong)  will  be  set  right.  Nothing  will  persuade 
her,  I  know,  that  I  have  betrayed  him.  It  will  be  set  right  through  her, 
and  he  will  be  very  sorry  for  it.  Our  secret,  Ruth,  is  our  own,  and  lives- 
and  dies  with  us.  I  don't  believe  I  ever  could  have  told  it  you,"  said 
Tom,  with  a  smile,  "  but  how  glad  I  am  to  think  you  have  found  it  out ! " 

They  had  never  taken  such  a  pleasant  walk  as  they  took  that  night. 
Tom  told  her  all  so  freely,  and  so  simply,  and  was  so  desirous  to  return 
her  tenderness  with  his  fullest  confidence,  that  they  prolonged  it  far 
beyond  their  usual  hour,  and  sat  up  late  v/hen  they  came  home.  And 
when  they  parted  for  the  night  there  was  such  a  tranquil,  beautiful 
expression  in  Tom's  face,  that  she  could  not  bear  to  shut  it  out,  but 
going  back  on  tip-toe  to  his  chamber-door,  looked  in,  and  stood  there 
till  he  saw  her,  and  then  embracing  him  again,  withdrew.  And  in  her 
prayers,  and  in  her  sleep — good  times  to  be  remembered  with  such 
fervor,  Tom  ! — his  name  was  uppermost. 

When  he  was  left  alone,  Tom  pondered  very  much  on  this  discovery 
of  her's,  and  greatly  wondered  what  had  led  her  to  it.  "  Because," 
thought  Tom,  "  I  have  been  so  very  careful.  It  was  foolish  and 
unnecessary  in  me,  as  I  clearly  see  now,  when  I  am  so  relieved  by  her 
knowing  it ;  but  I  have  been  so  very  careful  to  conceal  it  from  her. 
Of  course  I  knew  that  she  was  intelligent  and  quick,  and  for  that  reason 
was  more  upon  my  guard  ;  but  I  was  not  in  the  least  prepared  for  this. 
I  am  sure  her  discovery  has  been  sudden  too.  Dear  me  ! "  said  Tom. 
"  It's  a  most  singular  instance  of  penetration  !" 

Tom  could  not  get  it  out  of  his  head.  There  it  was,  when  his  head 
was  on  his  pillow. 

"  How  she  trembled  when  she  began  to  tell  me  she  knew  it ! "  thought 
Tom,  recalling  all  the  little  incidents  and  circumstances  ;  "  and  how  her 
face  flushed  !  But  that  was  natural.  Oh  quite  natural !  That  needs 
no  accounting  for." 

Tom  little  thought  how  natural  it  was.  Tom  little  knew  that  there 
was  that  in  Ruth's  own  heart,  but  newly  set  there,  which  had  helped 
her  to  the  reading  of  his  mystery.  Ah  Tom  !  He  didn't  understand 
the  whispers  of  the  Temple  Fountain,  though  he  passed  it  every  day. 

Who  so  lively  and  cheerful  as  busy  Ruth  next  morning  !  Her  early 
tap  at  Tom's  door,  and  her  light  foot  outside,  would  have  been  music  to 
him  though  she  had  not  spoken.  But  she  said  it  was  the  brightest 
morning  ever  seen  ;  and  so  it  was ;  and  if  it  had  been  otherwise,  she 
AYOuld  have  made  it  so  to  Tom. 

She  was  ready  with  his  neat  breakfast  when  he  went  down  stairs,  and 
had  her  bonnet  ready  for  the  early  walk,  and  was  so  full  of  news,  that 
Tom  was  lost  in  wonder.  She  might  have  been  up  all  night,  collecting- 
it  for  his  entertainment.     There  was  Mr.  Nadgett  not  come  home  yet. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  575 

and  there  was  bread  down  a  penny  a  loaf,  and  tliere  was  twice  as  much 
strength  in  this  tea  as  in  the  last,  and  the  milkwoman's  husband  had 
come  out  of  the  hospital  cured,  and  the  curly-headed  child  over  the 
way  had  been  lost  all  yesterday,  and  she  was  going  to  make  all  sorts 
of  preserves  in  a  desperate  hurry,  and  there  happened  to  be  a  saucepan 
in  the  house  which  was  the  very  saucepan  for  the  purpose ;  and  she 
knew  all  about  the  last  book  Tom  had  brought  home,  all  through,  though 
it  was  a  teazer  to  read  ;  and  she  had  so  much  to  tell  him  that  she  had 
finished  breakfast  first.  Then  she  had  her  little  bonnet  on,  and  the  tea 
and  sugar  locked  up,  and  the  keys  in  her  reticule,  and  the  flower,  as 
usual,  in  Tom's  coat,  and  was  in  all  respects  quite  ready  to  accompany 
him,  before  Tom  knew  she  had  begun  to  prepare.  And  in  short,  as  Tom 
said,  with  a  confidence  in  his  own  assertion  which  amounted  to  a  defiance 
of  the  public  in  general,  there  never  was  such  a  little  woman. 

She  made  Tom  talkative.  It  was  impossible  to  resist  her.  She  put 
such  enticing  questions  to  him  :  about  books,  and  about  dates  of 
churches,  and  about  organs,  and  about  the  Temple,  and  about  all  kinds 
of  things.  Indeed,  she  lightened  the  way  (and  Tom's  heart  with  it) 
to  that  degree,  that  the  Temple  looked  quite  blank  and  solitary  when 
he  parted  from  her  at  the  gate. 

"  No  Mr.  Fips's  friend  to-day,  I  suppose,"  thought  Tom,  as  he 
ascended  the  stairs. 

Not  yet,  at  any  rate,  for  the  door  was  closed  as  usual,  and  Tom 
opened  it  with  his  key.  He  had  got  the  books  into  perfect  order  now, 
and  had  mended  the  torn  leaves,  and  pasted  up  the  broken  backs,  and 
substituted  neat  labels  for  the  worn-out  letterings.  It  looked  a  different 
place,  it  was  so  orderly  and  neat :  Tom  felt  some  pride  in  contemplating 
the  change  he  had  wrought,  though  there  was  no  one  to  approve  or 
disapprove  of  it. 

He  was  at  present  occupied  in  making  a  fair  copy  of  his  draught  of 
the  catalogue  ;  on  which,  as  there  was  no  hurry,  he  was  painfully  con- 
centrating all  the  ingenious  and  laborious  neatness  he  had  ever  expended 
on  map  or  plan  in  Mr.  Pecksnifi''s  workroom.  It  was  a  very  marvel  of 
a  catalogue  ;  for  Tom  sometimes  thought  he  was  really  getting  his 
money  too  easily,  and  he  had  determined  within  himself  that  this 
document  should  take  a  little  of  his  superfluous  leisure  out  of  him. 

So,  with  pens  and  ruler,  and  compasses  and  india-rubber,  and  pencil, 
and  black  ink,  and  red  ink,  Tom  worked  away  all  the  morning.  He 
thought  a  good  deal  about  Martin  and  their  interview  of  yesterday,  and 
would  have  been  far  easier  in  his  mind  if  he  could  have  resolved  ta 
confide  it  to  his  friend  John,  and  to  have  taken  his  opinion  on  the  sub- 
ject. But  besides  that  he  knew  what  John's  boiling  indignation  would 
be,  he  bethought  himself  that  he  was  helping  Martin  now  in  a  matter 
of  great  moment,  and  that  to  deprive  the  latter  of  his  assistance  at  such 
a  crisis  of  aflairs,  would  be  to  inflict  a  serious  injury  upon  him. 

"So  I'll  keep  it  to  myself,"  said  Tom,  with  a  sigh.  "I'll  keep  it  to 
myself." 

And  to  work  he  went  again,  more  assiduously  than  ever,  with  the 
pens,  and  the  ruler,  and  the  india-rubber,  and  the  pencil,  and  the  black 
ink;  and  the  red  ink,  that  he  might  forget  it. 


576  LIFE     AND     ADVENTURES     OF 

He  had  laboured  away  for  another  hour  or  more,  when  he  heard  a 
footstep  in  the  entry,  down  below. 

"  Ah ! "  said  Tom,  looking  towards  the  door,  "  time  was,  not  long  ago 
either,  when  that  would  have  set  me  wondering  and  expecting.  But  I 
have  left  off  now." 

The  footstep  came  on,  up  the  stairs. 

"Thirty-six,  thirty-seven,  thirty-eight,"  said  Tom,  counting.  "Now 
you'll  stop.     Nobody  ever  comes  past  the  thirty-eighth  stair." 

The  person  did  stop,  certainly,  but  only  to  take  breath  ;  for  up  the 
footstep  came  again.     Forty,  forty-one,  forty-two,  and  so  on. 

The  door  stood  open.  As  the  tread  advanced,  Tom  looked  impatiently 
and  eagerly  towards  it.  When  a  figure  came  upon  the  landing,  and 
arriving  in  the  doorway,  stopped  and  gazed  at  him,  he  rose  up  from  his 
chair,  and  half  believed  he  saw  a  spirit. 

Old  Martin  Chuzzlewit.  The  same  whom  he  had  left  at  Mr.  Peck- 
sniff's, weak  and  sinking. 

The  same  !  No,  not  the  same,  for  this  old  man,  though  old,  was 
strong,  and  leaned  upon  his  stick  with  a  vigorous  hand,  while  with  the 
other  he  signed  to  Tom  to  make  no  noise.  One  glance  at  the  resolute 
face,  the  watchful  eye,  the  vigorous  hand  upon  the  staff,  the  triumphed 
purpose  in  the  figure,  and  such  a  light  broke  in  on  Tom  as  blinded  him. 

"  You  have  expected  me,"  said  Martin,  "  a  long  time." 

"  I  was  told  that  my  employer  would  arrive  soon,"  said  Tom  ;  "but — " 

"  I  know.  You  were  ignorant  who  he  was.  It  was  my  desire.  I  am 
glad  it  has  been  so  well  observed.  I  intended  to  have  been  with  you 
much  sooner.  I  thought  the  time  had  come.  I  thought  I  could  know 
no  more,  and  no  worse,  of  him,  than  I  did  on  that  day  when  I  saw 
you  last.    But  I  was  WTong." 

He  had  by  this  time  come  up  to  Tom,  and  now  he  seized  his  hand. 

"I  have  lived  in  his  house,  Pinch,  and  had  him  fawning  on  me  days 
and  weeks,  and  months.  You  know  it.  I  have  suffered  him  to  treat 
me  like  his  tool  and  instrument.  You  know  it ;  you  have  seen  me 
there.  I  have  undergone  ten  thousand  times  as  much  as  I  could  have 
endured  if  I  had  been  the  miserable  weak  old  man  he  took  me  for. 
You  know  it.  I  have  seen  him  offer  love  to  Mary.  You  know  it ;  who 
better — who  better,  my  true  heart  !  I  have  had  his  base  soul  bare  before 
me,  day  by  day,  and  have  not  betrayed  myself  once.  I  never  could 
have  undergone  such  torture  but  for  looking  forward  to  this  time." 

He  stopped,  even  in  the  passion  of  his  speech  ;  if  that  can  be  called 
passion  which  was  so  resolute  and  steady ;  to  press  Tom's  hand  again. 
Then  he  said,  in  great  excitement  : 

"  Close  the  door,  close  the  door.  He  will  not  be  long  after  me,  but 
may  come  too  soon.  The  time  now  drawing  on,"  said  the  old  man, 
hurriedly :  his  eyes  and  whole  face  brightening  as  he  spoke  :  "  will  make 
amends  for  all.  I  wouldn't  have  him  die  or  hang  himself  for  millions 
of  golden  pieces  !  Close  the  door  !  " 

Tom  did  so ;  hardly  knowing  yet  whether  he  was  awake,  or  in  a 
dream. 


c.,.-''^^^c-^<^:^ii^^3»^  .-^  ^yTn^te^ay  y^^  a>92yyt^^?^€arA,s€-^/:z^  aA/uiyi^^^ff^^d-n^'. 


MAETIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  577 


CHAPTER  LI. 

SHEDS  NEW  AND  BRIGHTER  LIGHT  FPON  THE  VERY  DARK  PLACE  j    AND  CON- 
TAINS THE  SEQUEL  OF  THE  ENTERPRISE  OF  MR.  JONAS  AND  HIS  FRIEND. 

The  night  had  now  come,  when  the  old  clerk  was  to  be  delivered  over 
to  his  keepers.  In  the  midst  of  his  guilty  distractions,  Jonas  had  not 
forgotten  it. 

It  was  a  part  of  his  guilty  state  of  mind  to  remember  it ;  for  on 
his  persistance  in  the  scheme  depended  one  of  his  precautions  for  his 
own  safety.  A  hint,  a  word,  from  the  old  man,  uttered  at  such  a 
moment  in  attentive  ears,  might  fire  the  train  of  suspicion,  and  destroy 
him.  His  watchfulness  of  every  avenue  by  which  the  discovery  of  his 
guilt  might  be  approached,  sharpened  with  his  sense  of  the  danger  by 
which  he  was  encompassed.  With  murder  on  his  soul,  and  its  innu- 
merable alarms  and  terrors  dragging  at  him  night  and  day,  he  would  have 
repeated  the  crime,  if  he  had  seen  a  path  of  safety  stretching  out  beyond. 
It  was  in  his  punishment ;  it  was  in  his  guilty  condition.  The  very 
deed  which  his  ffears  rendered  insupportable,  his  fears  would  have 
impelled  him  to  commit  again. 

But  keeping  the  old  man  close,  according  to  his  design,  would  serve 
his  turn.  His  purpose  was,  to  escape,  when  the  first  alarm  and  wonder 
had  subsided  ;  and  when  he  could  make  the  attempt  without  awakening 
instant  suspicion.  In  the  meanwhile  these  women  would  keep  him 
quiet ;  and  if  the  talking  humour  came  upon  him,  would  not  be  easily 
startled.     He  knew  their  trade. 

Nor  had  he  spoken  idly  when  he  said  the  old  man  should  be  gagged. 
He  had  resolved  to  ensure  his  silence ;  and  he  looked  to  the  end,  not 
the  means.  He  had  been  rouo^h  and  rude  and  cruel  to  the  old  man  all 
his  life  ;  and  violence  was  natural  to  his  mind  in  connexion  with  him. 
"  He  shall  be  gagged  if  he  speaks,  and  pinioned  if  he  writes,"  said 
Jonas  looking  at  him;  for  they  sat  alone  together.  "  He  is  mad  enough 
for  that  j  I  '11  go  through  with  it ! " 

Hush  ! 

Still  listening  !  To  every  sound.  He  had  listened  ever  since,  and  it 
had  not  come  yet.  The  exposure  of  the  Insurance  ofiice ;  the  flight  of 
Crimple  and  Bullamy  with  the  plunder,  and  among  the  rest,  as  he  feared, 
with  his  own  bill,  which  he  had  not  found  in  the  pocket-book  of  the 
murdered  man,  and  which  with  Mr.  Pecksniff's  money  had  probably 
been  remitted  to  one  or  other  of  those  trusty  friends  for  safe  deposit  at 
the  banker's ;  his  immense  losses,  and  peril  of  being  still  called  to  account 
as  a  partner  in  the  broken  firm  ;  all  these  things  rose  in  his  mind  at 
one  time  and  always,  but  he  could  not  contemplate  them.  He  was  aware 
of  their  presence,  and  of  the  rage,  discomfiture,  and  despair,  they  brought 
along  with  them  ;  but  he  thought — of  his  own  controlling  power  and 
direction  he  thought — of  the  one  dread  question  only.  When  they  would 
find  the  body  in  the  wood. 

PP 


578  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

He  tried — he  had  never  left  off  trying — not  to  forget  it  was  there,, 
for  that  was  impossible,  but  to  forget  to  weary  himself  by  drawing  vivid 
pictures  of  it  in  his  fancy  :  by  going  softly  about  it  and  about  it  among 
the  leaves,  approaching  it  nearer  and  nearer  through  a  gap  in  the 
boughs,  and  startling  the  very  flies  that  were  thickly  sprinkled  all  over 
it,  like  heaps  of  dried  currants.  His  mind  was  fixed  and  fastened  on 
the  discovery,  for  intelligence  of  which  he  listened  intently  to  every  cry 
and  shout  j  listened  when  any  one  came  in,  or  went  out ;  watched  from 
the  window  the  people  who  passed  up  and  down  the  street ;  and  mis- 
trusted his  own  looks  and  words.  And  the  more  his  thoughts  were  set 
upon  the  discovery,  the  stronger  was  the  fascination  which  attracted 
them  to  the  thing  itself :  lying  alone  in  the  wood.  He  was  for  ever 
showing  and  presenting  it,  as  it  were,  to  every  creature  whom  he  saw. 
"  Look  here  !  Do  you  know  of  this  1  Is  it  found  ?  Do  you  suspect 
me  1 "  If  he  had  been  condemned  to  bear  the  body  in  his  arms,  and 
lay  it  down  for  recognition  at  the  feet  of  every  one  he  met,  it  could  not 
have  been  more  constantly  with  him,  or  a  cause  of  more  monotonous  and 
dismal  occupation  than  it  was  in  this  state  of  his  mind. 

Still  he  was  not  sorry.  It  was  no  contrition  or  remorse  for  what  he 
had  done  that  moved  him  ;  it  was  nothing  but  alarm  for  his  own 
security.  The  vague  consciousness  he  possessed  of  having  wrecked  his 
fortune  in  the  murderous  venture,  intensified  his  hatred  and  revenge, 
and  made  him  set  the  greater  store  by  what  he  had  gained.  The  man 
was  dead  j  nothing  could  undo  that.  He  felt  a  triumph  yet,  in  the 
reflection. 

He  had  kept  a  jealous  watch  on  Chuffey,  ever  since  the  deed  j  seldom 
leaving  him  but  on  compulsion,  and  then  for  as  short  intervals  a& 
possible.  They  were  alone  together  now.  It  was  twilight,  and  the 
appointed  time  drew  near  at  hand.  Jonas  walked  up  and  down  th& 
room.     The  old  man  sat  in  his  accustomed  corner. 

The  slightest  circumstance  was  matter  of  disquiet  to  the  murderer, 
and  he  was  made  uneasy  at  this  time  by  the  absence  of  his  wife,  who 
had  left  home  early  in  the  afternoon,  and  had  not  returned  yet.  No 
tenderness  for  her  was  at  the  bottom  of  this  ;  but  he  had  a  misgiving 
that  she  might  have  been  waylaid,  and  tempted  into  saying  something 
that  would  criminate  him  when  the  news  came.  For  anything  he  knew, 
she  might  have  knocked  at  the  door  of  his  room,  while  he  was  away, 
and  discovered  his  plot.  Confound  her,  it  was  like  her  pale  face,  to  be 
wandering  up  and  down  the  house  !     Where  was  she  now  1 

"  She  went  to  her  good  friend,  Mrs.  Todgers,"  said  the  old  man,  when 
he  asked  the  question  with  an  angry  oath. 

Aye  !  To  be  sure  !  always  stealing  away  into  the  company  of  that 
woman.  She  was  no  friend  of  his.  Who  could  tell  what  devil's  mischief 
they  might  hatch  together  !     Let  her  be  fetched  home  directly. 

The  old  man,  muttering  some  words  softly,  rose  as  if  he  would  have 
gone  himself,  but  Jonas  thrust  him  back  into  his  chair  with  an  impa- 
tient imprecation,  and  sent  a  servant-girl  to  fetch  her.  When  he  had 
charged  her  with  her  errand  he  walked  to  and  fro  again,  and  never 
stopped  till  she  came  back,  which  she  did  pretty  soon  :  the  way  being 
short,  and  the  woman  having  made  good  haste. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  579 

Well  !     Where  was  slie  ?     Had  she  come  1 

No.     She  had  left  there,  full  three  hours. 

"  Left  there  !     Alone  1 " 

The  messenger  had  not  asked  ;  taking  that  for  granted. 

"  Curse  you  for  a  fool.     Bring  candles  ! " 

She  had  scarcely  left  the  room,  when  the  old  clerk,  who  had  been 
unusually  observant  of  him  ever  since  he  had  asked  about  his  wife,  came 
suddenly  upon  him. 

"  Give  her  up  !"  cried  the  old  man.  "  Come  !  Give  her  up  to  me  ! 
Tell  me  what  you  have  done  with  her.  Quick  !  I  have  made  no 
promises  on  that  score.     Tell  me  what  you  have  done  with  her." 

He  laid  his  hands  upon  his  collar  as  he  spoke,  and  grasped  it : 
tightly  too. 

"  You  shall  not  leave  me  !"  cried  the  old  man.  "  I  am  strong  enough 
to  cry  out  to  the  neighbours,  and  I  will,  unless  you  give  her  up.  Give 
her  up  to  me  !" 

Jonas  was  so  dismayed  and  conscience-stricken,  that  he  had  not  even 
hardihood  enough  to  unclench  the  old  man's  hands  with  his  own  ;  but 
stood  looking  at  him  as  well  as  he  could  in  the  darkness,  without 
moving  a  finger.  It  was  as  much  as  he  could  do  to  ask  him  what  he 
meant. 

"  I  will  know  what  you  have  done  with  her  !"  retorted  ChufFey.  "  If 
you  hurt  a  hair  of  her  head,  you  shall  answer  it.  Poor  thing  !  Poor 
thing  !    Where  is  she  ?" 

"  Why,  you  old  madman  !"  said  Jonas,  in  a  low  voice,  and  with 
trembling  lips.    "  What  Bedlam  fit  has  come  upon  you  now  V 

"  It  is  enough  to  make  me  mad,  seeing  what  I  have  seen  in  this 
house  !"  cried  ChufFey.  "  Where  is  my  dear  old  master  !  Where  is  his 
only  son  that  I  have  nursed  upon  my  knee,  a  child  !  Where  is  she, 
she  who  was  the  last ;  she  that  I  've  seen  pining  day  by  day,  and  heard 
M'eeping  in  the  dead  of  night !  She  was  the  last,  the  last  of  all  my 
friends  !     Heaven  help  me,  she  was  the  very  last !" 

Seeing  that  the  tears  were  stealing  down  his  face,  Jonas  mustered 
courage  to  unclench  his  hands,  and  push  him  off  before  he  answered  : 

"  Did  you  hear  me  ask  for  her  1  Did  you  hear  me  send  for  her  1  How 
can  I  give  you  up  what  I  hav'n't  got,  idiot !  Ecod,  I  'd  give  her  up  to 
you  and  welcome,  if  I  could  ;  and  a  precious  pair  you  'd  be  !" 

"  If  she  has  come  to  any  harm,"  cried  ChufFey,  "  mind  !  I  'm  old  and 
silly ;  but  I  have  my  memory  sometimes ;  and  if  she  has  come  to  any 
harm — " 

"  Devil  take  you,"  interrupted  Jonas,  but  in  a  suppressed  voice  still ; 
"  what  harm  do  you  suppose  she  has  come  to  ?  I  know  no  more  where 
she  is  than  you  do  ;  I  wish  I  did.  Wait  till  she  comes  home,  and  see ; 
she  can't  be  long.     Will  that  content  you  V 

"  Mind  !"  exclaimed  the  old  man.  "  Not  a  hair  of  her  head  !  not  a, 
hair  of  her  head  ill  used  !  I  won't  bear  it.  I — I — have  borne  it  too 
long,  Jonas.  I  am  silent,  but  I — I — I  can  speak.  I — I — I  can  speak — " 
he  stammered,  as  he  crept  back  to  his  chair,  and  turned  a  threatening, 
though  a  feeble,  look  upon  him. 

"  You  can  speak,  can  you  !"  thought  Jonas.    "  So,  so,  we  '11  stop  your 

pp2 


580  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

speaking.  It 's  well  I  knew  of  this  in  good  time.  Prevention  is  better 
than  cure." 

He  had  made  a  poor  show  of  playing  the  Bully  and  evincing  a  desire 
to  conciliate  at  the  same  time,  but  was  so  afraid  of  the  old  man  that 
great  drops  had  started  out  upon  his  brow ;  and  they  stood  there  yet. 
His  unusual  tone  of  voice  and  agitated  manner  had  sufficiently  expressed 
his  fear ;  but  his  face  would  have  done  so  now,  without  that  aid,  as  he 
again  walked  to  and  fro,  glancing  at  him  by  the  candle-light. 

He  stopped  at  the  window  to  think.  An  opposite  shop  was  lighted 
up ;  and  the  tradesman  and  a  customer  were  reading  some  printed  bill 
together  across  the  counter.  The  sight  brought  him  back,  instantly,  to 
the  occupation  he  had  forgotten.  "  Look  here  !  Do  you  know  of  this  1 
Is  it  found  1    Do  you  suspect  me  ?" 

A  hand  upon  the  door.     "  What 's  that ! " 

"  A  pleasant  evenin,"  said  the  voice  of  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  though  warm, 
which,  bless  you  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  we  must  expect  when  cowcumbers  is 
three  for  twopence.     How  does  Mr.  Chuffey  find  his  self  to-night.  Sir  V 

Mrs.  Gamp  kept  particularly  close  to  the  door  in  saying  this,  and 
curtseyed  more  than  usual.  She  did  not  appear  to  be  quite  so  much  at 
her  ease  as  she  generally  was. 

"  Get  him  to  his  room,"  said  Jonas,  walking  up  to  her,  and  speaking 
in  her  ear.  "  He  has  been  raving  to-night — stark  mad.  Don't  talk 
while  he 's  here,  but  come  down  again." 

"  Poor  sweet  dear ! "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  with  uncommon  tenderness. 
"  He 's  all  of  a  tremble." 

"  Well  he  may  be,"  said  Jonas,  "  after  the  mad  fit  he  has  had.  Get 
him  up  stairs." 

She  was  by  this  time  assisting  him  to  rise. 

"  There 's  my  blessed  old  chick  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Gamp,  in  a  tone  that 
was  at  once  soothing  and  encouraging.  "  There 's  my  darlin'  Mr.  ChufFey ! 
Now  come  up  to  your  own  room.  Sir,  and  lay  down  on  your  bed  a  bit ; 
for  you  're  a  shakin'  all  over,  as  if  your  precious  jints  was  hung  upon 
wires.     That 's  a  good  creetur  !  come  with  Sairey  !" 

"  Is  she  come  home  1"  inquired  the  old  man. 

"  She  '11  be  here  directly  minnit,"  returned  Mrs.  Gamp.  "  Come  with 
Sairey,  Mr.  Chuffey.     Come  with  your  own  Sairey  !" 

The  good  woman  had  no  reference  to  any  female  in  the  world  in  pro- 
mising this  speedy  advent  of  the  person  for  whom  Mr.  Chuffey  inquired, 
but  merely  threw  it  out  as  a  means  of  pacifying  the  old  man.  It  had 
its  effect,  for  he  permitted  her  to  lead  him  away ;  and  they  quitted  the 
room  together. 

Jonas  looked  out  of  the  window  again.  They  were  still  reading 
the  printed  paper  in  the  shop  opposite,  and  a  third  man  had  joined  in  the 
perusal.     What  could  it  be,  to  interest  them  so  1 

A  dispute  or  discussion  seemed  to  arise  among  them,  for  they  all  looked 
up  from  their  reading  together,  and  one  of  the  three,  who  had  been 
glancing  over  the  shoulder  of  another,  stepped  back  to  explain  or  illus- 
trate some  action  by  his  gestures. 

Horror  !     How  like  the  blow  he  had  struck  in  the  wood  ! 

It  beat  him  from  the  window  as  if  it  had  lighted  on  himself.     As  he 


MARTIN    CnUZZLEWIT.  581 

staggered  into  a  cliair  he  thought  of  the  change  in  Mrs.  Gamp,  exhibited 
in  her  new-born  tenderness  to  her  charge.  Was  that  because  it  was 
found  ? — because  she  knew  of  it  ? — because  she  suspected  him  1 

"  Mr.  Chuffey  is  a  lyin'  down,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  returning,  "  and 
much  good  may  it  do  him,  Mr.  Ghuzzlewit,  which  harm  it  can't  and 
good  it  may  :  be  joyful !" 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Jonas,  hoarsely,  "  and  let  us  get  this  business  done. 
"  Where  is  the  other  woman  ?" 

"  The  other  person 's  with  him  now,"  she  answered. 

"  That 's  right,"  said  Jonas.  "  He  is  not  fit  to  be  left  to  himself. 
Why,  he  fastened  on  me  to-night  j  here,  upon  my  coat ;  like  a  savage 
dog.  Old  as  he  is,  and  feeble  as  he  is  usually,  I  had  some  trouble  to 
shake  him  off.  You — Hush  ! — It 's  nothing.  You  told  me  the  other 
woman's  name.     I  forget  it." 

"  I  mentioned  Betsey  Prig,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  She  is  to  be  trusted,  is  she  1" 

"  That  she  ain't !"  said  Mrs.  Gamp  ;  "  nor  have  I  brought  her,  Mr. 
Chuzzlewit.  I  've  brought  another,  which  engages  to  give  every  satige- 
faction." 

"  What  is  her  name  ?"  asked  Jonas. 

Mrs.  Gamp  looked  at  him  in  an  odd  way  without  returning  any 
answer,  but  appeared  to  understand  the  question  too. 

"  What  is  her  name  ?"  repeated  Jonas. 

"  Her  name,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  is  Harris." 

It  was  extraordinary  how  much  effort  it  cost  Mrs.  Gamp  to  pronounce 
the  name  she  was  commonly  so  ready  with.  She  made  some  three  or 
four  gasps  before  she  could  get  it  out ;  and,  when  she  had  uttered  it, 
pressed  her  hand  upon  her  side,  and  turned  up  her  eyes,  as  if  she  were 
going  to  faint  away.  But,  knowing  her  to  labour  under  a  complication 
of  internal  disorders,  which  rendered  a  few  drops  of  spirits  indispensable 
at  certain  times  to  her  existence,  and  which  came  on  very  strong  when 
that  remedy  was  not  at  hand,  Jonas  merely  supposed  her  to  be  the 
victim  of  one  of  these  attacks. 

"  Well !"  he  said,  hastily,  for  he  felt  how  incapable  he  was  of  confining 
his  wandering  attention  to  the  subject.  "You  and  she  have  arranged 
to  take  care  of  him,  have  you  ? " 

Mrs.  Gamp  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and  softly  discharged  herself  of 
her  familiar  phrase,  "  Turn  and  turn  about ;  one  off,  one  on."  But  she 
spoke  so  tremulously  that  she  felt  called  upon  to  add,  "  which  fiddle- 
strings  is  weakness  to  expredge  my  nerves  this  night !" 

Jonas  stopped  to  listen.     Then  said,  hurriedly  : 

"  We  shall  not  quarrel  about  terms.  Let  them  be  the  same  as  they 
were  before.  Keep  him  close,  and  keep  him  quiet.  He  must  be 
restrained.  He  has  got  it  in  his  head  to-night  that  my  wife 's  dead,  and 
has  been  attacking  me  as  if  I  had  killed  her.  It 's — it 's  common 
with  mad  people  to  take  the  worst  fancies  of  those  they  like  best. 
Is  n't  it?" 

Mrs.  Gamp  assented  with  a  short  groan. 

"  Keep  him  close,  then,  or  in  one  of  his  fits  he  '11  be  doing  me  a 
mischief.    And  don't  trust  him  at  any  time ;  for  when  he  seems  most 


582  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES   OF 

rational,  he 's  wildest  in  his  talk.  But  that  you  know  already.  Let  me 
see  the  other." 

"  The  t'other  person,  Sir?"  said  Mrs.  Gamp. 

"  Ay  !     Go  you  to  him  and  send  the  other.     Quick  !     I  'm  busy." 

Mrs.  Gamp  took  two  or  three  backward  steps  towards  the  door,  and 
stopped  there. 

"  It  is  your  wishes,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  she  said,  in  a  sort  of  quavering 
croak,  "  to  see  the  t'other  person.     Is  it  1 " 

But  the  ghastly  change  in  Jonas  told  her  that  the  other  person  was 
already  seen.  Before  she  could  look  round  towards  the  door,  she  was 
put  aside  by  old  Martin's  hand  ;  and  Chuffey  and  John  Westlock 
entered  with  him. 

"  Let  no  one  leave  the  house,"  said  Martin.  "  This  man  is  my 
brother's  son.  Ill  met,  ill-trained,  ill-begotten.  If  he  moves  from  the 
spot  on  which  he  stands,  or  speaks  a  word  above  his  breath  to  any 
person  here,  fling  up  the  window,  and  call  for  help  !" 

"  What  right  have  you  to  give  such  directions  in  this  house  ? "  asked 
Jonas  faintly. 

"  The  right  of  your  wrong-doing.     Come  in  there  ! " 

An  irrepressible  exclamation  burst  from  the  lips  of  Jonas,  as  Lewsome 
entered  at  the  door.  It  was  not  a  groan,  or  a  shriek,  or  a  word,  but 
was  wholly  unlike  any  sound  that  had  ever  fallen  on  the  ears  of  those 
who  heard  it,  while  at  the  same  time  it  was  the  most  sharp  and  terrible 
expression  of  what  was  working  in  his  guilty  breast,  that  nature  could 
have  invented. 

He  had  done  murder  for  this  !  He  had  girdled  himself  about  with 
perils,  agonies  of  mind,  innumerable  fears,  for  this  !  He  had  hidden 
his  secret  in  the  wood  ;  pressed  and  stamped  it  down  into  the  bloody 
ground ;  and  here  it  started  up  when  least  expected,  miles  upon  miles 
away  ;  known  to  many  ;  proclaiming  itself  from  the  lips  of  an  old  man 
who  had  renewed  his  strength  and  vigour  as  by  a  miracle,  to  give  it 
voice  against  him  ! 

He  leaned  his  hand  on  the  back  of  a  chair,  and  looked  at  them.  It 
was  in  vain  to  try  to  do  so,  scornfully;  or  with  his  usual  insolence.  He 
required  the  chair  for  his  support.     But  he  made  a  struggle  for  it. 

"  I  know  that  fellow,"  he  said,  fetching  his  breath  at  every  word,  and 
pointing  his  trembling  finger  towards  Lewsome.  "  He 's  the  greatest 
liar  alive.  What 's  his  last  tale  ?  Ha,  ha  !  You  're  rare  fellows,  too  ! 
Why,  that  uncle  of  mine  is  childish  ;  he  's  even  a  greater  child  than  his 
brother,  my  father,  was,  in  his  old  age ;  or  than  Chuffey  is.  What  the 
devil  do  you  mean,"  he  added,  looking  fiercely  at  John  Westlock  and 
Mark  Tapley  (the  latter  had  entered  with  Lewsome),  "  by  coming  here, 
and  bringing  two  idiots  and  a  knave  with  you  to  take  my  house  by 
storm.     Hallo,  there  !    Open  the  door  !     Turn  these  strangers  out ! " 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  coming  forward,  "  if  it  was  n't 
for  your  name,  I  'd  drag  you  through  the  streets  of  my  own  accord,  and 
single-handed,  I  would  !  Ah,  I  would  !  Don't  try  and  look  bold  at 
me.  You  can't  do  it !  Now  go  on.  Sir,"  this  was  to  old  Martin.  "  Bring 
the  murderin'  wagabond  upon  his  knees  !  If  he  wants  noise,  he  shall 
have  enough  of  it ;  for  as  sure  as  he 's  a  shiverin'  from  head  to  foot,  I  '11 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  583 

raise  a  uproar  at  this  winder  that  shall  bring  half  London  in.    Go  on  Sir  I 
Let  him  try  me  once,  and  see  whether  I  'm  a  man  of  my  word  or  not." 

With  that,  Mark  folded  his  arms,  and  took  his  seat  upon  the  window- 
ledge,  with  an  air  of  general  preparation  for  anything,  which  seemed  to 
imply  that  he  was  equally  ready  to  jump  out  himself j  or  to  throw  Jonas 
out,  upon  receiving  the  slightest  hint  that  it  would  be  agreeable  to  the 
company. 

Old  Martin  turned  to  Lewsome  : 

"  This  is  the  man,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand  towards  Jonas.   "  Is  it?" 

"  You  need  do  no  more  than  look  at  him  to  be  sure  of  that,  or  of  the 
truth  of  what  I  have  said,"  was  the  reply.     "  He  is  my  witness." 

"  Oh,  brother  !"  cried  old  Martin,  clasping  his  hands  and  lifting  up 
his  eyes.  "  Oh,  brother,  brother  !  Were  we  strangers  half  our  lives 
that  you  might  breed  a  wretch  like  this,  and  I  make  life  a  desert  by 
withering  every  flower  that  grew  about  me  !  Is  it  the  natural  end  of 
your  precepts  and  mine,  that  this  should  be  the  creature  of  your  rearing, 
training,  teaching,  hoarding,  striving  for  :  and  I  the  means  of  bringing 
him  to  punishment,  when  nothing  can  repair  the  wasted  past !" 

He  sat  down  upon  a  chair  as  he  spoke,  and  turning  away  his  face,  was 
silent  for  a  few  moments.      Then  with  recovered  energy  he  proceeded : 

"  But  the  accursed  harvest  of  our  mistaken  lives  shall  be  trodden 
down.  It  is  not  too  late  for  that.  You  are  confronted  with  this  man, 
yon  monster  there;  not  to  be  spared,  but  to  be  dealt  with  justly.  Hear 
what  he  says  !  Reply,  be  silent,  contradict,  repeat,  defy,  do  what  you 
please.  My  course  shall  be  the  same.  Go  on  !  And  you,"  he  said  to 
Chuffey,  "  for  the  love  of  your  old  friend,  speak  out,  good  fellow  1 " 

"  I  have  been  silent  for  his  love  ! "  cried  the  old  man.  "  He  urged 
me  to  it.  He  made  me  promise  it,  upon  his  dying  bed.  I  never  would 
have  spoken,  but  for  your  finding  out  so  much.  I  have  thought  about 
it  ever  since  :  I  could  n't  help  that  :  and  sometimes  I  have  had  it  all 
before  me  in  a  dream :  but  in  the  day-time,  not  in  sleep.  Is  there  such 
a  kind  of  dream?"  said  Chuffey,  looking  anxiously  in  old  Martin's  face. 

As  Martin  made  him  an  encouraging  reply,  he  listened  attentively  to 
his  voice  ;  and  smiled. 

"  Ah,  ay!"  he  cried.  "He  often  spoke  to  me  like  that.  We  were  at 
school  together,  he  and  I.  I  could  n't  turn  against  his  son,  you  know — 
his  only  son,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit ! " 

"  I  would  to  heaven  you  had  been  his  son  !"  said  Martin. 

"  You  speak  so  like  my  dear  old  master,"  cried  the  old  man  with  a 
childish  delight,  "that  I  almost  think  I  hear  him.  lean  hear  you 
quite  as  well  as  I  used  to  hear  him.  It  makes  me  young  again.  He 
never  spoke  unkindly  to  me,  and  I  always  understood  him.  I  could 
always  see  him  too,  though  my  sight  was  dim.  Well,  well !  He 's  dead, 
he 's  dead.     He  was  very  good  to  me,  my  dear  old  master  !  " 

He  shook  his  head  mournfully  over  the  brother's  hand.  At  this 
moment  Mark,  who  had  been  glancing  out  of  the  window,  left  the  room. 

"  I  could  n't  turn  against  his  only  son,  you  know,"  said  Chuffey.  "  He 
has  nearly  driven  me  to  do  it  sometimes  ;  he  very  nearly  did  to-night. 
Ah  !"  cried  the  old  man,  with  a  sudden  recollection  of  the  cause.  "Where 
is  she  !     She  's  not  come  home  1" 


584  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"Do  you  mean  his  wife  ?"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit. 

"Yes." 

"  I  have  removed  her.  She  is  in  my  care,  and  will  be  spared  the 
present  knowledge  of  what  is  passing  here.  She  has  known  misery- 
enough,  without  that  addition." 

Jonas  heard  this  with  a  sinking  heart.  He  knew  that  they  were  on 
his  heels,  and  felt  that  they  were  resolute  to  run  him  to  destruction. 
Inch  by  inch  the  ground  beneath  him  was  sliding  from  his  feet ;  faster 
and  faster  the  encircling  ruin  contracted  and  contracted  towards  himself, 
its  wicked  centre,  until  it  should  close  in  and  crush  him. 

And  now  he  heard  the  voice  of  his  accomplice  stating  to  his  face, 
with  every  circumstance  of  time  and  place  and  incident ;  and  openly 
proclaiming,  with  no  reserve,  suppression,  passion,  or  concealment ;  all 
the  truth.  The  truth,  which  nothing  would  keep  down ;  which  blood 
would  not  smother,  and  earth  would  not  hide  ;  the  truth,  whose  terrible 
inspiration  seemed  to  change  dotards  into  strong  men  ;  and  on  whose 
avenging  wings,  one  whom  he  had  supposed  to  be  at  the  extremest  corner 
of  the  earth  came  swooping  down  upon  him. 

He  tried  to  deny  it,  but  his  tongue  would  not  move.  He  conceived 
some  desperate  thought  of  rushing  away,  and  tearing  through  the  streets ; 
but  his  limbs  would  as  little  answer  to  his  will  as  his  stark,  stiff,  staring 
face.  All  this  time  the  voice  went  slowly  on,  denouncing  him.  It  was 
as  if  every  drop  of  blood  in  the  wood  had  found  a  voice  to  jeer  him  with. 

When  it  ceased,  another  voice  took  up  the  tale,  but  strangely  :  for  the 
old  clerk,  who  had  watched,  and  listened  to  the  whole,  and  had  wrung, 
his  hands  from  time  to  time,  as  if  he  knew  its  truth  and  could  confirm 
it,  broke  in  with  these  words  : 

"  No,  no,  no  !  you  're  wrong  ;  you  're  wrong — all  wrong  together  \ 
Have  patience,  for  the  truth  is  only  known  to  me  !" 

"  How  can  that  be,"  said  his  old  master's  brother,  "  after  what  you 
have  heard  ?  Besides,  you  said  just  now,  above-stairs,  when  I  told  you 
of  the  accusation  against  him,  that  you  knew  he  was  his  father's 
murderer." 

"  Ay,  yes  !  and  so  he  was  !"  cried  Chuifey,  wildly.  "  But  not  as  you 
suppose — not  as  you  suppose.  Stay  !  Give  me  a  moment's  time.  I 
have  it  all  here — all  here  !  It  was  foul,  foul,  cruel,  bad  ;  but  not  as  you 
suppose.     Stay,  stay  !  " 

He  put  his  hands  up  to  his  head,  as  if  it  throbbed  or  pained  him. 
After  looking  about  him  in  a  wandering  and  vacant  manner  for  some 
moments,  his  eyes  rested  upon  Jonas,  when  they  kindled  up  with  sudden 
recollection  and  intelligence. 

"  Yes  !"  cried  old  Chuffey,  "  yes  !  That 's  how  it  was.  It 's  all  upon 
me  now.  He — he  got  up  from  his  bed  before  he  died,  to  be  sure,  to  say- 
that  he  forgave  him  ;  and  he  came  down  with  me  into  this  room ;  and 
when  he  saw  him — his  only  son,  the  son  he  loved — his  speech  forsook 
him  :  he  had  no  speech  for  what  he  knew — and  no  one  understood  him 
except  me.     But  I  did — I  did  !" 

Old  Martin  regarded  him  in  amazement ;  so  did  his  companions.  Mrs. 
Gamp,  who  had  said  nothing  yet ;  but  had  kept  two-thirds  of  herself 
behind  the  door,  ready  for  escape,  and  one-third  in  the  room,  ready  for 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  585 

siding  with  the  strongest  party  ;  came  a  little  further  in  and  remarked, 
with  a  sob,  that  Mr.  Ghuhey  was  "  the  sweetest  old  creetur  goin'." 

"  He  bought  the  stuff,"  said  ChufFey,  stretching  out  his  arm  towards 
Jonas,  while  an  unwonted  fire  shone  in  his  eye,  and  lightened  up  his 
face  j  "  he  bought  the  stuff,  no  doubt,  as  you  have  heard,  and  brought  it 
home.  He  mixed  the  stuff — look  at  him  ! — with  some  sweetmeat  in  a 
jar,  exactly  as  the  medicine  for  his  father's  cough  was  mixed,  and  put  it 
in  a  drawer ;  in  that  drawer  yonder  ;  in  the  desk  ;  he  knows  which 
drawer  I  mean  !  He  kept  it  there  locked  up.  But  his  courage  failed 
him,  or  his  heart  was  touched — my  God  !  1  hope  it  was  his  heart !  He 
was  his  only  son  ! — and  he  did  not  put  it  in  the  usual  place,  where  my 
old  master  would  have  taken  it  twenty  times  a-day." 

The  trembling  figure  of  the  old  man  shook  with  the  strong  emotions 
that  possessed  him.  But,  with  the  same  light  in  his  eye,  and  with  his 
arm  outstretched,  and  with  his  gray  hair  stirring  on  his  head,  he  seemed 
to  grow  in  size,  and  was  like  a  man  inspired.  Jonas  shrunk  from  look- 
ing at  him,  and  cowered  down  into  the  chair  by  which  he  had  held.  It 
seemed  as  if  this  tremendous  Truth  could  make  the  dumb  speak. 

"I  know  it  every  word  now  !"  cried  Chuffey.  "Every  word  !  He 
put  it  in  that  drawer,  as  I  have  said.  He  went  so  often  there,  and  was 
so  secret,  that  his  father  took  notice  of  it ;  and  when  he  was  out,  had  it 
opened.  We  were  there  together,  and  we  found  the  mixture — Mr. 
Chuzzlewit  and  I.  He  took  it  into  his  possession,  and  made  light  of  it 
at  the  time  ;  but  in  the  night  he  came  to  my  bedside,  weeping,  and  told 
me  that  his  own  son  had  it  in  his  mind  to  poison  him.  'Oh,  Chuff!' 
he  said,  '  oh,  dear  old  Chuff !  a  voice  came  into  my  room  to-night,  and 
told  me  that  this  crime  began  with  me.  It  began  when  I  taught  him  to 
be  too  covetous  of  what  I  have  to  leave,  and  made  the  expectation  of  it 
his  great  business  !'  Those  were  his  words  ;  ay,  they  are  his  very  words  ! 
If  he  was  a  hard  man  now  and  then,  it  was  for  his  only  son.  He 
loved  his  only  son,  and  he  was  always  good  to  me  !  " 

Jonas  listened  with  increased  attention.  Hope  was  breaking  in  upon 
him. 

"  '  He  shall  not  weary  for  my  death.  Chuff  :'  that  was  what  he  said 
next,"  pursued  the  old  clerk,  as  he  wiped  his  eyes  ;  "  that  was  what  he 
said  next,  crying  like  a  little  child  :  '  He  shall  not  weary  for  my  death. 
Chuff.  He  shall  have  it  now  ;  he  shall  marry  where  he  has  a  fancy, 
Chuff,  although  it  don't  please  me  ;  and  you  and  I  will  go  away  and  live 
upon  a  little.  I  always  loved  him  ;  perhaps  he  '11  love  me  then.  It 's 
a  dreadful  thing  to  have  my  own  child  thirsting  for  my  death.  But  I 
might  have  known  it.  I  have  sown,  and  I  must  reap.  He  shall  believe 
that  I  am  taking  this  ;  and  when  I  see  that  he  is  sorry,  and  has  all  he 
wants,  1 11  tell  him  that  I  found  it  out,  and  I  '11  forgive  him.  He  'II 
make  a  better  man  of  his  own  son,  and  be  a  better  man  himself, 
perhaps.  Chuff ! ' " 

Poor  Chuffey  paused  to  dry  his  eyes  again.  Old  Martin's  face  was 
hidden  in  his  hands.  Jonas  listened  still  more  keenly,  and  his  breast 
heaved  like  a  swollen  water,  but  with  hope.     With  growing  hope. 

"  My  dear  old  master  made  believe  next  day,"  said  Chuffey,  "  that  he 
had  opened  the  drawer  by  mistake  with  a  key  from  the  bunch,  which 


dSG  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

happened  to  fit  it  (we  had  one  made  and  hung  upon  it)  ;  and  that  he  had 
been  surprised  to  find  his  fresh  supply  of  cough  medicine  in  such  a 
place,  but  supposed  it  had  been  put  there  in  a  hurry  when  the  drawer 
stood  open.  We  burnt  it ;  but  his  son  believed  that  he  was  taking  it — he 
knows  he  did.  Once  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  to  try  him,  took  heart  to  say  it 
had  a  strange  taste  ;  and  he  got  up  directly,  and  went  out." 

Jonas  gave  a  short,  dry  cough  ;  and,  changing  his  position  for  an 
easier  one,  folded  his  arms  wthout  looking  at  them,  though  they  could 
now  see  his  face. 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  wrote  to  her  father ;  I  mean  the  father  of  the  poor 
thing  who's  his  wife;"  said  Chuffey;  "  and  got  him  to  come  up:  intend- 
ing to  hasten  on  the  marriage.  But  his  mind,  like  mine,  went  a  little 
wrong  through  grief,  and  then  his  heart  broke.  He  sank  and  altered 
from  the  time  when  he  came  to  me  in  the  night ;  and  never  held  up 
his  head  again.  It  was  only  a  few  days,  but  he  had  never  changed 
so  much  in  twice  the  years.  '  Spare  him,  Chufi"!'  he  said,  before 
he  died.  They  were  the  only  words  he  could  speak.  '  Spare  him. 
Chuff!'  I  promised  him  I  would.  I've  tried  to  do  it.  He  's  his  only 
son." 

In  his  recollection  of  the  last  scene  in  his  old  friend's  life,  poor 
Chufiey's  voice,  which  had  grown  weaker  and  weaker,  quite  deserted 
him.  Making  a  motion  with  his  hand,  as  if  he  would  have  said  that 
Anthony  had  taken  it,  and  had  died  with  it  in  his,  he  retreated  to  the 
corner  where  he  usually  concealed  his  sorrows  ;  and  was  silent. 

Jonas  could  look  at  his  company  now,  and  vauntingly  too.  "Well!" 
he  said,  after  a  pause.  "  Are  you  satisfied  1  Or  have  you  any  more  of 
your  plots  to  broach  1  Why  that  fellow,  Lewsome,  can  invent  'em  for 
you  by  the  score.     Is  this  all  ?     Have  you  nothing  else  1 " 

Old  Martin  looked  at  him  steadily. 

"  Whether  you  are  what  you  seemed  to  be  at  Pecksniff's,  or  are  some- 
thing else  and  a  mountebank,  I  don't  know  and  I  don't  care,"  said  Jonas, 
looking  downward  with  a  smile,  "  but  I  don't  want  you  here.  You  were 
here  so  often  when  your  brother  was  alive,  and  were  always  so  fond  of  him 
(your  dear  dear  brother  and  you  would  have  been  cuffing  one  another 
before  this,  ecod  !)  that  I'm  not  surprised  at  your  being  attached  to  the 
place  ;  but  the  place  is  not  attached  to  you,  and  you  can't  leave  it  too 
soon,  though  you  may  leave  it  too  late.  And  for  my  wife,  old  man,  send 
her  home  straight,  or  it  will  be  the  worse  for  her.  Ha  ha  !  You  carry 
it  with  a  high  hand  too  !  But  it  isn't  hanging  yet  for  a  man  to  keep 
a  penn'orth  of  poison  for  his  own  purposes,  and  have  it  taken  from  him 
by  two  old  crazy  jolter-heads  who  go  and  act  a  play  about  it.  Ha, 
ha  !     Do  you  see  the  door?" 

His  base  triumph,  struggling  with  his  cowardice,  and  shame,  and 
guilt,  was  so  detestable,  that  they  turned  away  from  him,  as  if  he  were 
some  obscene  and  filthy  animal,  repugnant  to  the  sight.  And  here  that 
last  black  crime  was  busy  with  him  too  ;  working  M'ithin  him  to  his 
perdition.  But  for  that,  the  old  clerk's  story  might  have  touched  him, 
though  never  so  lightly  ;  but  for  that,  the  sudden  removal  of  so  great  a 
load  might  have  brought  about  some  wholesome  change  even  in  him. 
With  that  deed  done,  however  ;  with  that  unnecessary  wasteful  danger 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  587 

"haunting  him ;  despair  was  in  his  very  triumph  and  relief :  wild, 
ungovernable,  raging  despair,  for  the  uselessness  of  the  peril  into  which 
he  had  plunged ;  despair  that  hardened  him  and  maddened  him,  and 
set  his  teeth  a  grinding  in  the  moment  of  his  exultation. 

"  My  good  friend  !  "  said  Martin,  laying  his  hand  on  Chuffey's  sleeve. 
*'  This  is  no  place  for  you  to  remain  in.     Come  with  me." 

"  Just  his  old  way  !"  cried  Chuffey,  looking  up  into  his  face.  "  I 
almost  believe  it 's  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  alive  again.  Yes  !  Take  me  with 
you  !     Stay  though,  stay." 

"  For  what?"  asked  Martin. 

"  I  can't  leave  her,  poor  thing  ! "  said  Chuifey,  "  She  has  been  very 
good  to  me.  I  can't  leave  her,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  Thank  you  kindly. 
I'll  remain  here.     I  hav'n't  long  to  remain  ;  it's  no  great  matter." 

As  he  meekly  shook  his  poor,  gray  head,  and  thanked  old  Martin 
in  these  words,  Mrs.  Gamp,  now  entirely  in  the  room,  was  affected  to 
tears. 

"  The  mercy  as  it  is  ! "  she  said,  "  as  sech  a  dear,  good,  reverend 
creetur,  never  got  into  the  cludges  of  Betsey  Prig,  which  but  for 
me  he  would  have  done,  undoubted  :  facts  bein  stubborn  and  not  easy 
drove  ! " 

"  You  heard  me  speak  to  you  just  now,  old  man,"  said  Jonas  to 
his  uncle.  "  I  '11  have  no  more  tampering  with  my  people,  man  or 
woman.     Do  you  see  the  door  1 " 

"  Do  you  see  the  door  ]"  returned  the  voice  of  Mark,  coming  from 
that  direction.     "  Look  at  it  !  " 

He  looked,  and  his  gaze  was  nailed  there.  Fatal,  ill-omened,  blighted 
thresh-hold,  cursed  by  his  father's  footsteps  in  his  dying  hour,  cursed 
by  his  young  wife's  sorrowing  tread,  cursed  by  the  daily  shadow  of  the 
old  clerk's  figure,  cursed  by  the  crossing  of  his  murderer's  feet — what 
men  were  standing  in  the  doorway  ! 

Nadgett,  foremost. 

Hark  !  It  came  on,  roaring  like  a  sea !  Hawkers  burst  into  the 
street,  crying  it  up  and  down  ;  windows  were  thrown  open  that  the 
inhabitants  might  hear  it ;  people  stopped  to  listen  in  the  road  and 
on  the  pavement ;  the  bells,  the  same  bells  began  to  ring  :  tumbling 
over  one  another  in  a  dance  of  boisterous  joy  at  the  discovery  (that  was 
the  sound  they  had  in  his  distempered  thoughts),  and  making  their  airy 
playground  rock. 

"  That  is  the  man,"  said  Nadgett.     "  By  the  window  ! " 

Three  others  came  in,  laid  hands  upon  him,  and  secured  him.  It 
was  so  quickly  done,  that  he  had  not  lost  sight  of  the  informer's  face  for 
an  instant  when  his  wrists  were  manacled  together. 

"  Murder,"  said  Nadgett,  looking  round  on  the  astonished  group. 
*'  Let  no  one  interfere." 

The  sounding  street  repeated  Murder.  Barbarous  and  dreadful 
Murder;  Murder,  Murder,  Murder.  Rolling  on  from  house  to  house,  and 
echoing  from  stone  to  stone,  until  the  voices  died  away  into  the  distant 
hum,  which  seemed  to  mutter  the  same  word. 

They  all  stood  silent ;  listening,  and  gazing  in  each  other's  faces,  as 
the  noise  passed  on. 


588  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

Martin  was  the  first  to  speak.  "  Wliat  terrible  history  is  this  ? "  he 
demanded. 

"  Ask  him,^''  said  Nadgett.     "  You  're  his  friend,  Sir.     He  can  tell 
you,  if  he  will.     He  knows  more  of  it  than  I  do,  though  I  know  much." 
"  How  do  you  know  much  % " 

"  I  have  not  been  watching  him  so  long  for  nothing,"  returned 
Nadgett.     "  I  never  watched  a  man  so  close  as  I  have  watched  him." 

Another  of  the  phantom  forms  of  this  terrific  Truth  !  Another  of  the 
many  shapes  in  which  it  started  up  about  him,  out  of  vacancy.  This 
man,  of  all  men  in  the  world,  a  spy  upon  him  ;  this  man,  changing  his 
identity  :  casting  off  his  shrinking,  purblind,  unobservant  character, 
and  springing  up  into  a  watchful  enemy  !  The  dead  man  might  have 
come  out  of  his  grave,  and  not  confounded  and  appalled  him  so. 

The  game  was  up.  The  race  was  at  an  end  ;  the  rope  was  woven  for 
his  neck.  If  by  a  miracle  he  could  escape  from  this  strait,  he  had  but 
to  turn  his  face  another  way,  no  matter  where,  and  there  would  rise 
some  new  avenger  front  to  front  with  him  :  some  infant  in  an  hour 
grown  old,  or  old  man  in  an  hour  grown  young,  or  blind  man  with  his 
sight  restored,  or  deaf  man  with  his  hearing  given  him.  There  was  no 
chance.  He  sank  down  in  a  heap  against  the  wall,  and  never  hoped 
again,  from  that  moment. 

"  I  am  not  his  friend,  although  I  have  the  dishonour  to  be  his 
relative,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  "  You  may  speak  to  me.  Where  have 
you  watched,  and  what  have  you  seen  % " 

"  I  have  watched  in  many  places,"  returned  Nadgett,  "  night  and 
day.  I  have  watched  him  lately,  almost  without  rest  or  relief : "  his 
anxious  face  and  bloodshot  eyes  confirmed  it.  "  I  little  thought  to  what 
my  watching  was  to  lead.  As  little  as  he  did  when  he  slipped  out  in  the 
night,  dressed  in  those  clothes  which  he  afterwards  sunk  in  a  bundle  at 
London  Bridge  ! " 

Jonas  moved  upon  the  ground  like  a  man  in  bodily  torture.  He 
uttered  a  suppressed  groan,  as  if  he  had  been  wounded  by  some  cruel 
weapon ;  and  plucked  at  the  iron  band  upon  his  wrists,  as  though  (his 
hands  being  free)  he  would  have  torn  himself. 

"  Steady,  kinsman  !"  said  the  chief  officer  of  the  party.  "Don't  be 
violent." 

"  Whom  do  you  call  kinsman  ? "  asked  old  P*lartin  sternly. 

"  You,"  said  the  man,  "  among  others." 

Martin  turned  his  scrutinising  gaze  upon  him.  He  was  sitting  lazily 
across  a  chair  with  his  arms  resting  on  the  back ;  eating  nuts,  and 
throwing  the  shells  out  of  window  as  he  cracked  them,  which  he  still 
continued  to  do,  while  speaking. 

"  Ay,"  he  said,  with  a  sulky  nod.  "  You  may  deny  your  nephews  till 
you  die  j  but  Chevy  Slyme  is  Chevy  Slyme  still,  all  the  world  over. 
Perhaps  even  you  may  feel  it  some  disgrace  to  your  own  blood  to  be 
employed  in  this  way.     I  'm  to  be  bought  off." 

"  At  every  turn?"  cried  Martin.  "  Self,  self,  self.  Every  one  among 
them  for  himself ! " 

"  You  had  better  save  one  or  two  among  them  the  trouble  then,  and 
be  for  them  as  well  as  ^^oz^rself,"  replied  his  nephew.     "  Look  here  at 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  589 

me  !  Can  you  see  the  man  of  your  family^  who  has  more  talent  in  his 
little  finger  than  all  the  rest  in  their  united  brains,  dressed  as  a  police 
officer,  without  being  ashamed  ?  I  took  up  with  this  trade  on  purpose 
to  shame  you.  I  did  n't  think  I  should  have  to  make  a  capture  in  the 
family,  though." 

"  If  your  debauchery,  and  that  of  your  chosen  friends,  has  really 
brought  you  to  this  level,"  returned  the  old  man,  "keep  it.  You  are 
living  honestly,  I  hope  ;  and  that 's  something." 

"  Don't  be  hard  upon  my  chosen  friends,"  returned  Slyme,  "  for  they 
were  sometimes  your  chosen  friends  too.  Don't  say  you  never  employed 
my  friend  Tigg,  for  I  know  better.     We  quarrelled  upon  it." 

"  I  hired  the  fellow,"  retorted  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  "  and  I  paid  him." 

"  It 's  well  you  paid  him,"  said  his  nephew,  "  for  it  would  be  too  late 
to  do  so  now.  He  has  given  his  receipt  in  full ;  or  had  it  forced  from 
him  rather." 

The  old  man  looked  at  him  as  if  he  were  curious  to  know  what  he 
meant,  but  scorned  to  prolong  their  conversation. 

"  I  have  always  expected  that  he  and  I  would  be  brought  together 
again  in  the  course  of  business,"  said  Slyme,  taking  a  fresh  handful  of 
nuts  from  his  pocket,  "  but  I  thought  he  would  be  wanted  for  some 
swindling  job  :  it  never  entered  my  head  that  I  should  hold  a  warrant 
for  the  apprehension  of  his  murderer." 

"  His  murderer  ! "  cried  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  looking  from  one  to  another. 

"  His  or  Mr.  Montague's,"  said  Nadgett.  "  They  are  the  same,  I  am 
told.  I  accuse  him  yonder  of  the  murder  of  Mr.  Montague,  who  was 
found  last  night,  killed,  in  a  wood.  You  will  ask  me  why  I  accuse  him, 
as  you  have  already  asked  me  how  I  know  so  much.  I  '11  tell  you.  It 
can't  remain  a  secret  long." 

The  ruling  passion  of  the  man  expressed  itself  even  l;hen,  in  the  tone 
of  regret  in  which  he  deplored  the  approaching  publicity  of  what  he 
knew. 

"  I  told  you  I  had  watched  him,"  he  proceeded.  "  I  was  instructed 
to  do  so  by  Mr.  Montague,  in  whose  employment  I  have  been  for  some 
time.  We  had  our  suspicions  of  him  ;  and  you  know  what  they  pointed 
at,  for  you  have  been  discussing  it  since  we  have  been  waiting  here,  outside 
the  room.  If  you  care  to  hear,  now  it 's  all  over,  in  what  our  suspicions 
began,  I  '11  tell  you  plainly  :  in  a  quarrel  (it  first  came  to  our  ears 
through  a  hint  of  his  own)  between  him  and  another  ofiice  in  which  his 
father's  life  was  insured,  and  which  had  so  much  doubt  and  distrust  upon 
the  subject,  that  he  compounded  with  them,  and  took  half  the  money ; 
and  was  glad  to  do  it.  Bit  by  bit,  I  ferreted  out  more  circumstances 
against  him,  and  not  a  few.  It  required  a  little  patience  ;  but  it 's  my 
calling.  I  found  the  nurse — here  she  is  to  confirm  me ;  I  found  the 
doctor,  I  found  the  undertaker,  I  found  the  undertaker's  man.  I  found 
out  how  the  old  gentleman  there,  Mr.  Chufiey,  had  behaved  at  the 
funeral ;  and  I  found  out  what  this  man,"  touching  Lewsome  on  the 
arm,  "  had  talked  about  in  his  fever.  I  found  out  how  he  conducted 
himself  before  his  father's  death,  and  how  since,  and  how  at  the  time ; 
and  writing  it  all  down,  and  putting  it  carefully  together,  made  case 
enough,  for  Mr.  Montague  to  tax  him  with  the  crime,  which  (as  he 


590  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OP 

himself  believed  until  to-night)  he  had  committed.     I  was  by  when  this 
was  done.     You  see  him  now.     He  is  only  worse  than  he  was  then." 

Oh,  niiserable,  miserable  fool  !  oh,  insupportable,  excruciating  torture  ! 
To  find  alive  and  active — a  party  to  it  all — the  brain  and  right-hand  of 
the  secret  he  had  thought  to  crush  !  In  whom,  though  he  had  walled 
the  murdered  man  up,  by  enchantment  in  a  rock,  the  story  would  have 
lived  and  walked  abroad*!  He  tried  to  stop  his  ears  with  his  fettered 
arms,  that  he  might  shut  out  the  rest. 

As  he  crouched  upon  the  floor,  they  drew  away  from  him  as  if  a 
pestilence  were  in  his  breath.  They  fell  off,  one  by  one,  from  that  part 
of  the  room,  leaving  him  alone  upon  the  ground.  Even  those  who  had 
him  in  their  keeping  shunned  him,  and  (with  the  exception  of  Slyme, 
who  was  still  occupied  with  his  nuts)  kept  apart. 

"  From  that  garret-window  opposite,"  said  Nadgett,  pointing  across 
the  narrow  street,  "  I  have  watched  this  house  and  him  for  days  and 
nights.  From  that  garret-window  opposite  I  saw  him  return  home^ 
alone,  from  a  journey  on  which  he  had  set  out  with  Mr.  Montague. 
That  was  my  token  that  Mr.  Montague's  end  was  gained  ;  and  I  might 
rest  easy  on  my  watch,  though  I  was  not  to  leave  it  until  he  dismissed 
me.  But,  standing  at  the  door  opposite,  after  dark  that  same  night,  I 
saw  a  countryman  steal  out  of  this  house,  by  a  side-door  in  the  court, 
who  had  never  entered  it.  I  knew  his  walk,  and  that  it  was  himself, 
disguised.  I  followed  him  immediately.  I  lost  him  on  the  western  road, 
still  travelling  westward." 

Jonas  looked  up  at  him  for  an  instant,  and  muttered  an  oath. 
"  I  could  not  comprehend  what  this  meant,"  said  Nadgett ;  "  but, 
having  seen  so  much,  I  resolved  to  see  it  out,  and  through.  And  I  did. 
Learning,  on  inquiry  at  his  house  from  his  wife,  that  he  was  supposed  to 
be  sleeping  in  the  room  from  which  I  had  seen  him  go  out,  and  that  he 
had  given  strict  orders  not  to  be  disturbed,  I  knew  that  he  was  coming 
back  j  and  for  his  coming  back  I  watched.  I  kept  my  watch  in  the 
street — in  doorways,  and  such  places — all  that  night ;  at  the  same 
window,  all  next  day ;  and  when  night  came  on  again,  in  the  street  once 
more.  For  I  knew  he  would  come  back,  as  he  had  gone  out,  when  this 
part  of  the  town  was  empty.  He  did.  Early  in  the  morning,  the  same 
countryman  came  creeping,  creeping,  creeping  home." 

"  Look  sharp  !"  interposed  Slyme,  who  had  now  finished  his  nuts. 
"  This  is  quite  irregular,  Mr.  Nadgett." 

"  I  kept  at  the  window  all  day,"  said  Nadgett,  without  heeding  him. 
"  I  think  I  never  closed  my  eyes.  At  night,  I  saw  him  come  out  with 
a  bundle.  I  followed  him  again.  He  went  down  the  steps  at  London 
Bridge,  and  sunk  it  in  the  river.  I  now  began  to  entertain  some  serious 
fears,  and  made  a  communication  to  the  Police,  which  caused  that  bundle 
to  be—" 

"  To  be  fished  up,"  interrupted  Slyme.  "  Be  alive,  Mr.  Nadgett.'' 
"It  contained  the  dress  I  had  seen  him  wear,"  said  Nadgett;  "stained 
with  clay,  and  spotted  with  blood.  Information  of  the  murder  was 
received  in  town  last  night.  The  wearer  of  that  dress  is  already  known 
to  have  been  seen  near  the  place ;  to  have  been  lurking  in  that  neigh- 
bourhood ;  and  to  have  alighted  from  a  coach  coming  from  that  part  of 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  591 

the  country,  at  a  time  exactly  tallying  witli  the  very  minute  when  I  saw 
him  returning  home.  The  warrant  has  been  out,  and  these  officers 
have  been  with  me  some  hours.  We  chose  our  time ;  and  seeing  you 
come  in,  and  seeing  this  person  at  the  window — " 

"  Beckoned  to  him,"  said  Mark,  taking  up  the  thread  of  the  narrative, 
on  hearing  this  allusion  to  himself,  "  to  open  the  door ;  which  he  did 
with  a  deal  of  pleasure." 

"  That 's  all  at  present,"  said  Nadgett,  putting  up  his  great  pocket- 
book,  which  from  mere  habit  he  had  produced  when  he  began  his  revela- 
tion, and  had  kept  in  his  hand  all  the  time ;  "  but  there  is  plenty  more 
to  come.  You  asked  me  for  the  facts  so  far ;  I  have  related  them,  and 
need  not  detain  these  gentlemen  any  longer.  Are  you  ready,  Mr.  Slyme  ?" 
"  And  something  more,"  replied  that  worthy,  rising.  "  If  you  walk 
round  to  the  office,  we  shall  be  there  as  soon  as  you,  Tom  !  Get  a  coach  1" 
The  officer  to  whom  he  spoke  departed  for  that  purpose.  Old  Martin 
lingered  for  a  few  moments,  as  if  he  would  have  addressed  some  words 
to  Jonas ;  but  looking  round,  and  seeing  him  still  seated  on  the  floor, 
rocking  himself  in  a  savage  manner  to  and  fro,  took  Chuifey's  arm,  and 
slowly  followed  Nadgett  out.  John  Westlock  and  Mark  Tapley  accompa- 
nied them.  Mrs.  Gamp  had  tottered  out  first,  for  the  better  display  of  her 
feelings,  in  a  kind  of  walking  swoon ;  for  Mrs.  Gamp  performed  swoons 
of  different  sorts,  upon  a  moderate  notice,  as  Mr.  Mould  did  Funerals. 

"  Ha  !"  muttered  Slyme,  looking  after  them.  "  Upon  my  soul !  As 
insensible  of  being  disgraced  by  having  such  a  nephew  as  myself,  in  such 
a  situation,  as  he  was  of  my  being  an  honour  and  a  credit  to  the  family ! 
That 's  the  return  I  get  for  having  humbled  my  spirit — such  a  spirit  as 
mine — to  earn  a  livelihood,  is  it  V 

He  got  up  from  his  chair,  and  kicked  it  away  indignantly. 
"  And  such  a  livelihood  too  !     When  there  are  hundreds  of  men, 
not  fit  to  hold  a  candle  to  me,  rolling  in  carriages  and  living  on  their 
fortunes.     Upon  my  soul  it 's  a  nice  world  ! " 

His  eyes  encountered  Jonas,  who  looked  earnestly  towards  him,  and 
moved  his  lips  as  if  he  were  whispering. 
"  Eh  ]  "  said  Slyme. 

Jonas  glanced  at  the  attendant  whose  back  was  towards  him,  and 
made  a  clumsy  motion  with  his  bound  hands  towards  the  door. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Slyme,  thoughtfully.  "  I  could  n't  hope  to  dis- 
grace him  into  anything  when  you  have  shot  so  far  ahead  of  me  though. 
I  forgot  that." 

Jonas  repeated  the  sariie  look  and  gesture. 
"  Jack  ! "  said  Slyme. 
"  Hallo  !  "  returned  his  man. 

"  Go  down  to  the  door,  ready  for  the  coach.     Call  out  when  it  comes, 
I'd  rather  have  you  there.     Now  then,"  he  added,  turning  hastily  to 
Jonas,  when  the  man  was  gone.     "  What 's  the  matter  ?  " 
Jonas  essayed  to  rise. 

"  Stop  a  bit,"  said  Slyme.  "  It 's  not  so  easy  when  your  wrists  are 
tight  together.     Now  then  !     Up  !     What  is  it  1 " 

"  Put  your  hand  in  my  pocket.  Here  !  The  breast-pocket,  on  the 
left ! "  said  Jonas. 


592  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

He  did  so  ;  and  drew  out  a  purse. 

"  There  's  a  hundred  pound  in  it/'  said  Jonas,  whose  words  were  almost 
unintelligible ;  as  his  face,  in  its  pallor  and  agony,  was  scarcely  human. 

Slyme  looked  at  him  ;  gave  it  into  his  hands ;  and  shook  his  head. 

"  I  can't.  I  daren't.  I  couldn't  if  I  dared.  Those  fellows  below " 

"  Escape 's  impossible/'  said  Jonas.  "  I  know  it.  One  hundred 
pound  for  only  five  minutes  in  the  next  room ! " 

"  What  to  do  !  "  he  asked. 

The  face  of  his  prisoner  as  he  advanced  to  whisper  in  his  ear,  made 
him  recoil  involuntarily.  But  he  stopped  and  listened  to  him.  The 
words  were  few,  but  his  own  face  changed  as  he  heard  them. 

"  I  have  it  about  me,"  said  Jonas,  putting  his  hands  to  his  throat,  as 
though  whatever  he  referred  to,  were  hidden  in  his  neck-kerchief  "  How 
should  you  know  of  it  ?  How  could  you  know  ?  A  hundred  pound  for 
only  five  minutes  in  the  next  room  !     The  time 's  passing.      Speak  !  " 

"  It  would  be  more — more  creditable  to  the  family,"  observed  Slyme, 
with  trembling  lips.  "  I  wish  you  had  n't  told  me  half  so  much.  Less 
would  have  served  your  purpose.     You  might  have  kept  it  to  yourself" 

"  A  hundred  pound  for  only  five  minutes  in  the  next  room !  Speak ! " 
cried  Jonas,  desperately. 

He  took  the  purse.  Jonas  with  a  wild  unsteady  step,  retreated  to 
the  door  in  the  glass  partition. 

"  Stop  !  "  cried  Slyme,  catching  at  his  skirts.  "  I  don't  know  about 
this.     Yet  it  must  end  so  at  last.     Are  you  guilty  1 " 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Jonas. 

"  Are  the  proofs  as  they  were  told  just  now  1-  " 

"  Yes  !  "  said  Jonas. 

"  Will  you — will  you  engage  to  say  a — a  Prayer,  or  something  of  that 
sort  ?  "  faltered  Slyme. 

Jonas  broke  from  him  without  replying,  and  closed  the  door  between 
them. 

Slyme  listened  at  the  keyhole.  After  that,  he  crept  away  on  tiptoe, 
as  far  off  as  he  could  ;  and  looked  awfully  towards  the  place.  He  was 
roused  by  the  arrival  of  the  coach,  and  their  letting  down  the  steps. 

"  He 's  getting  a  few  things  together,"  he  said,  leaning  out  of  window, 
and  speaking  to  the  two  men  below,  who  stood  in  the  full  light  of  a 
street-lamp.    "  Keep  your  eye  upon  the  back,  one  of  you,  for  form's  sake." 

One  of  the  men  withdrew  into  the  court.  The  other,  seating  him- 
self on  the  steps  of  the  coach,  remained  in  conversation  with  Slyme  at 
the  window :  who  perhaps  had  risen  to  be  his  superior,  in  virtue  of  his 
old  propensity  (once  so  much  lauded  by  the  murdered  man)  of  being 
always  round  the  corner.     A  useful  habit  in  his  present  calling. 

"  Where  is  he  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

Slyme  looked  into  the  room  for  an  instant  and  gave  his  head  a  jerk, 
as  much  as  to  say,  "  Close  at  hand.     I  see  him." 

"  He 's  booked,"  observed  the  man. 

"  Through,"  said  Slyme. 

They  looked  at  each  other,  and  up  and  down  the  street.  The 
man  on  the  coach-steps  took  his  hat  off,  and  put  it  on  again,  and 
whistled  a  little. 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  593 

"  I  say  !  he 's  taking  his  time  ! "  he  remonstrated. 

"  I  allowed  him  five  minutes,"  said  Slyme.  "  Time 's  more  than  up, 
though,     I  '11  bring  him  down." 

He  withdrew  from  the  window  accordingly,  and  walked  on  tiptoe  to  the 
door  in  the  partition.  He  listened.  There  was  not  a  sound  within. 
He  set  the  candles  near  it,  that  they  might  shine  through  the  glass. 

It  was  not  easy,  he  found,  to  make  up  his  mind  to  the  opening  of  the 
door.  But  he  flung  it  wide  open  suddenly,  and  with  a  noise  ;  then 
retreated.     After  peeping  in  and  listening  again,  he  entered. 

He  started  back  as  his  eyes  met  those  of  Jonas,  standing  in  an  angle 
of  the  wall,  and  staring  at  him.  His  neck-kerchief  was  off;  his  face  vras 
ashy  pale. 

"  You  're  too  soon,"  said  Jonas,  with  an  abject  whimper.  "I  Ve  not 
had  time.  I  have  not  been  able  to  do  it.  I — five  minutes  more — two 
minutes  more  ! — Only  one  !  " 

Slyme  gave  him  no  reply,  but  thrusting  the  purse  upon  him  and 
forcing  it  back  into  his  pocket,  called  up  his  men. 

He  whined,  and  cried,  and  cursed,  and  entreated  them,  and  struggled, 
and  submitted,  in  the  same  breath,  and  had  no  power  to  stand.  But 
they  got  him  away  and  into  the  coach,  where  they  put  him  on  a  seat, 
but  he  soon  fell  moaning  down  among  the  straw  at  the  bottom,  and  lay 
there. 

The  two  men  were  with  him  ;  Slyme  being  on  the  box  with  the 
driver;  and  they  let  him  lie.  Happening  to  pass  a  fruiterer's  on  their 
way;  the  door  of  which  was  open,  though  the  shop  was  by  this  time 
shut ;  one  of  them  remarked  how  faint  the  peaches  smelt. 

The  other  assented  at  the  moment,  but  presently  stooped  down  in 
quick  alarm,  and  looked  at  the  prisoner. 

"  Stop  the  coach  !  He  has  poisoned  himself !  The  smell  comes  from 
this  bottle  in  his  hand  !" 

The  hand  had  shut  upon  it  tight.  With  that  rigidity  of  grasp  with 
"svhich  no  living  man,  in  the  full  strength  and  energy  of  life,  can  clutch 
a  prize  he  has  won. 

They  dragged  him  out,  into  the  dark  street ;  but  jury,  judge,  and 
hangman  could  have  done  no  more,  and  could  do  nothing  now.  Dead, 
dead,  dead. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

IN   WHICH    THE   TABLES    ARE   TURNED,    COMPLETELY    UPSIDE    DOWN. 

Old  Martin's  cherished  projects,  so  long  hidden  in  his  own  breast,  so 
frequently  in  danger  of  abrupt  disclosure  through  the  bursting  forth  of 
the  indignation  he  had  hoarded  up,  during  his  residence  with  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  were  retarded,  but  not  beyond  a  few  hours,  by  the  occurrences 
just  now  related.  Stunned,  as  he  had  been  at  first  by  the  intelligence 
conveyed  to  him  through  Tom  Pinch  and  John  "VVestlock,  of  the  supposed 
manner  of  his  brother's  death ;  overwhelmed  as  he  was  by  the  subsequent 


594:  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

narratives  of  Chuffey  and  Nadgett,  and  tlie  forging  of  that  chain  of  cir- 
cumstances ending  in  the  death  of  Jonas,  of  which  catastrophe  he  was 
immediately  informed  ;  scattered  as  his  purposes  and  hopes  were  for  the 
moment,  by  the  crowding  in  of  all  these  incidents  between  him  and  his 
end  ;  still  their  very  intensity  and  the  tumult  of  their  assemblage  nerved 
him  to  the  rapid  and  unyielding  execution  of  his  scheme.  In  every 
single  circumstance,  whether  it  were  cruel,  cowardly,  or  false,  he  saw 
the  flowering  of  the  same  pregnant  seed.  Self;  grasping,  eager, 
narrow-ranging,  over-reaching  self;  with  its  long  train  of  suspicions, 
lusts,  deceits,  and  all  their  growing  consequences  ;  was  the  root  of  the 
vile  tree.  Mr.  Pecksniif  had  so  presented  his  character  before  the  old 
man's  eyes,  that  he — the  good,  the  tolerant,  enduring  Pecksniff — had 
become  the  incarnation  of  all  selfishness  and  treachery;  and  the  more 
odious  the  shapes  in  which  those  vices  ranged  themselves  before  him  now, 
the  sterner  consolation  he  had  in  his  design  of  setting  Mr.  Pecksniff 
right,  and  Mr.  Pecksniff's  victims  too. 

To  this  work  he  brought,  not  only  the  energy  and  determination 
natural  to  his  character  (which,  as  the  reader  may  have  observed  in  the 
beginning  of  his  or  her  acquaintance  with  this  gentleman,  was  remark- 
able for  the  strong  development  of  those  qualities),  but  all  the  forced 
and  unnaturally  nurtured  energy  consequent  upon  their  long  suppres- 
sion. And  these  two  tides  of  resolution  setting  into  one  and  sweeping 
on,  became  so  strong  and  vigorous,  that,  to  prevent  themselves  from 
being  carried  away  before  it.  Heaven  knows  where,  was  as  much  as  John 
Westlock  and  Mark  Tapley  together  (though  they  were  tolerably 
energetic  too),  could  manage  to  effect. 

He  had  sent  for  John  Westlock  immediately  on  his  arrival ;  and 
John,  under  the  conduct  of  Tom  Pinch,  had  waited  on  him.  Having  a 
lively  recollection  of  Mr.  Tapley,  he  had  caused  that  gentleman's 
attendance  to  be  secured,  through  John's  means,  without  delay  ;  and 
thus,  as  we  have  seen,  they  had  all  repaired,  together,  to  the  city.  But 
his  grandson  he  had  refused  to  see  until  to-morrow,  when  Mr.  Tapley 
was  instructed  to  summon  him  to  the  Temple  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
forenoon.  Tom  he  would  not  allow  to  be  employed  in  anything,  lest  he 
should  be  wrongfully  suspected  ;  but  he  was  a  party  to  all  their  pro- 
ceedings, and  was  with  them  until  late  at  night — until  after  they  knew 
of  the  death  of  Jonas ;  when  he  went  home  to  tell  all  these  wonders  to 
little  Ruth,  and  to  prepare  her  for  accompanying  him  to  the  Temple  in 
the  morning,  agreeably  to  Mr.  Chuzzle wit's  particular  injunction. 

It  was  characteristic  of  old  Martin,  and  his  looking  on  to  something 
which  he  had  distinctly  before  him,  that  he  communicated  to  them 
nothing  of  his  intentions,  beyond  such  hints  of  reprisal  on  Mr.  Pecksniif 
as  they  gathered  from  the  game  he  had  played  in  that  gentleman's 
house,  and  the  brightening  of  his  eyes  whenever  his  name  was  mentioned. 
Even  to  John  Westlock,  in  whom  he  was  evidently  disposed  to  place 
great  confidence  (which  may  indeed  be  said  of  every  one  of  them),  he 
gave  no  explanation  whatever.  He  merely  requested  him  to  return  in 
the  morning  ;  and  with  this  for  their  utmost  satisfaction,  they  left  him, 
when  the  night  was  far  advanced,  alone. 

The  events  of  such  a  dny  might  have  worn  out  the  body  and  spirit  of 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  595 

a  much  younger  man  than  he,  but  he  sat  in  deep  and  painful  meditation 
until  the  morning  was  bright.  Nor  did  he  even  then  seek  any  prolonged 
repose,  but  merely  slumbered  in  his  chair,  until  seven  o'clock,  when 
Mr.  Tapley  had  appointed  to  come  to  him  by  his  desire  :  and  came — as 
fresh  and  clean  and  cheerful  as  the  morning^  itself. 

"  You  are  punctual,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  opening  the  door  to  him  in 
reply  to  his  light  knock,  which  had  roused  him  instantly. 

"  My  wishes.  Sir,"  replied  Mr.  Tapley,  whose  mind  would  appear 
from  the  context  to  have  been  running  on  the  matrimonial  service,  "  is 
to  love,  honour,  and  obey.     The  clock 's  a  striking  now.  Sir." 

"Come  in!" 

"  Thank 'ee,  Sir,"  rejoined  Mr.  Tapley,  "what  could  I  do  for  you 
first.  Sir?" 

"  You  gave  my  message  to  Martin  1 "  said  the  old  man  bending  his 
eyes  upon  him. 

"  I  did,  Sir,"  returned  Mark  ;  "  and  you  never  see  a  gentleman  more 
surprised  in  all  your  born  days  than  he  was." 

"What  more  did  you  tell  him?"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  inquired. 

"  Why,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  smiling,  "  I  should  have  liked  to  tell 
him  a  deal  more,  but  not  being  able.  Sir,  I  did  n't  tell  it  him." 

"  You  told  him  all  you  knew  1 " 

"  But  it  was  precious  little,  Sir,"  retorted  Mr.  Tapley.  "  There  was 
very  little  respectin'  you  that  I  was  able  to  tell  him.  Sir.  I  only  men- 
tioned my  opinion  that  Mr.  Pecksniif  would  find  himself  deceived.  Sir, 
and  that  you  would  find  yourself  deceived,  and  that  he  would  find 
himself  deceived,  Sir." 

"  In  what  ? "  asked  Mr.  Chuzzlewit. 

"  Meaning  him.  Sir  ? " 

"  Meaning  both  him  and  me." 

"  Well,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley.  "  In  your  old  opinions  of  each  other. 
As  to  him.  Sir,  and  his  opinions,  I  know  he 's  a  altered  man.  I  know  it. 
I  know'd  it  long  afore  he  spoke  to  you  t'other  day,  and  I  must  say  it. 
Nobody  don't  know  half  as  much  of  him  as  I  do.  Nobody  can't. 
There  was  always  a  deal  of  good  in  him,  but  a  little  of  it  got  crusted 
over  somehow.  I  can't  say  who  rolled  the  paste  of  that  'ere  crust 
myself,  but " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Martin.     "  Why  do  you  stop  ? " 

"  But  it — well !  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  I  think  it  may  have  been 
3''ou,  Sir.  Unintentional  I  think  it  may  have  been  you.  I  don't 
believe  that  neither  of  you  gave  the  other  quite  a  fair  chance.  There  ! 
Now  I  've  got  rid  on  it,"  said  Mr.  Tapley  in  a  fit  of  desperation  :  "  I 
can't  go  a  carryin'  it  about  in  my  own  mind,  bustin'  myself  with  it ; 
yesterday  was  quite  long  enough.  It 's  out  now.  I  can't  help  it.  I  'm 
sorry  for  it.     Don't  wisit  it  on  him.  Sir,  that 's  all." 

It  was  clear  that  Mark  expected  to  be  ordered  out  immediately,  and 
was  quite  prepared  to  go. 

"  So  you  think,"  said  Martin,  "  that  his  old  faults  are,  in  some  degree, 
of  my  creation,  do  you  1 " 

"  Well,  Sir,"  retorted  Mr.  Tapley,  "  I  'm  wery  sorry,  but  I  can't  unsay 
it.     It 's  hardly  fair  of  you,  Sir,  to  make  a  ignorant  man  conwict  himself 

QQ  2 


596  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

in  tins  way,  but  I  do  think  so.     I  am  as  respectful  disposed  to  you,  Sir, 
as  a  man  can  be ;  but  I  do  think  so." 

The  light  of  a  faint  smile  seemed  to  break  through  the  dull  steadiness 
of  Martin's  face,  as  he  looked  attentively  at  him,  without  replying. 

"  Yet  you  are  an  ignorant  man,  you  say,"  he  observed,  after  a  long- 
pause. 

"  Wery  much  so,"  Mr.  Tapley  replied. 

"And  I  a  learned,  well-instructed  man,  you  think  ?" 

"  Likewise  wery  much  so,"  Mr.  Tapley  answered. 

The  old  man,  with  his  chin  resting  on  his  hand,  paced  the  room  twice 
or  thrice  before  he  added  : 

"  You  have  left  him  this  morning  ?" 

"  Come  straight  from  him  now,  Sir." 

"  For  what :  does  he  suppose  1 " 

"  He  don't  know  wot  to  suppose.  Sir,  no  more  than  myself.  I  told 
him  jest  wot  passed  yesterday.  Sir,  and  that  you  had  said  to  me,  '  Can 
you  be  here  by  seven  in  the  morning  1 '  and  that  you  had  said  to  him^ 
through  me,  *  Can  you  be  here  by  ten  in  the  morning  V  and  that  I  had 
said  '  Yes'  to  both.     That 's  all.  Sir." 

His  frankness  was  so  genuine  that  it  plainly  was  all. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Martin,  "  he  may  think  you  are  going  to  desert  him, 
and  to  serve  me  ?" 

"  I  have  served  him  in  that  sort  of  way,  Sir,"  replied  Mark,  without  th«^ 
loss  of  any  atom  of  his  self-possession  ;  "  and  we  have  been  that  sort  of 
companions  in  misfortune  ;  that  my  opinion  is,  he  don't  believe  a  word 
on  it.     No  more  than  you  do.  Sir." 

"  Will  you  help  me  to  dress  ?  and  get  me  some  breakfast  from  the 
hotel?"  asked  Martin. 

"  With  pleasure,  Sir,"  said  Mark. 

"  And  by-and-by,"  pursued  Martin,  "  remaining  in  the  room,  as  I 
wish  you  to  do,  will  you  attend  to  the  door  yonder — give  admission  to 
visitors,  I  mean,  when  they  knock." 

'^  Certainly,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley. 

"  You  will  not  find  it  necessary  to  express  surprise  at  their  appear- 
ance," Martin  suggested. 

"  Oh  dear,  no.  Sir  !  "  said  Mr.  Tapley,  "  not  at  all." 

Although  he  pledged  himself  to  this  with  perfect  confidence,  he  was 
in  a  state  of  unbounded  astonishment  even  now.  Martin  appeared  to 
observe  it,  and  to  have  some  sense  of  the  ludicrous  bearing  of  Mr. 
Tapley  under  these  perplexing  circumstances ;  for  in  spite  of  the 
composure  of  his  voice  and  the  gravity  of  his  face,  the  same  indistinct 
light  flickered  on  the  latter  several  times.  Mark  bestirred  himself, 
however,  to  execute  the  offices  with  which  he  was  entrusted ;  and  soon 
lost  all  tendency  to  any  outward  expression  of  his  surprise,  in  the 
occupation  of  being  brisk  and  busy. 

But  when  he  had  put  Mr.  Chuzzlewit's  clothes  in  good  order  for 
dressing,  and  when  that  gentleman  was  dressed  and  sitting  at  his 
breakfast,  Mr.  Tapley's  feelings  of  wonder  began  to  return  upon  him  with 
great  violence ;  and,  standing  beside  the  old  man  with  a  napkin  under 
his  arm  (it  was  as  natural  and  easy  a  joke  to  Mark  to  be  a  butler  in 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT*  597 

the  Temple,  as  it  had  been  to  volunteer  as  cook  on  board  the  Screw), 
he  found  it  difficult  to  resist  the  temptation  of  casting  sidelong  glances 
at  him  very  often.  I^aj,  he  found  it  impossible  ;  and  accordingly 
yielded  to  this  impulse  so  often,  that  Martin  caught  him  in  the  fact  some 
fifty  times.  The  extraordinary  things  Mr.  Tapley  did  with  his  own 
face  -when  any  of  these  detections  occurred ;  the  sudden  occasions  he  had 
to  rub  his  eyes  or  his  nose  or  his  chin ;  the  look  of  wisdom  with  which 
he  immediately  plunged  into  the  deepest  thought,  or  became  intensely 
interested  in  the  habits  and  customs  of  the  flies  upon  the  ceiling,  or  the 
sparrows  out  of  doors ;  or  the  overwhelming  politeness  with  which  he 
endeavoured  to  hide  his  confusion  by  handing  the  muffin  ;  may  not 
unreasonably  be  assumed  to  have  exercised  the  utmost  power  of  feature 
that  even  Martin  Chuzzlewit  the  elder  possessed. 

But  he  sat  perfectly  quiet  and  took  his  breakfast  at  his  leisure,  or 
made  a  show  of  doing  so,  for  he  scarcely  ate  or  drank,  and  frequently 
lapsed  into  long  intervals  of  musing.  When  he  had  finished,  Mark  sat 
down  to  his  breakfast '  at  the  same  table  ;  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  quite 
silent  still,  walked  up  and  down  the  room. 

Mark  cleared  away  in  due  course,  and  set  a  chair  out  for  him,  in 
which,  as  the  time  drew  on  towards  ten  o'clock,  he  took  his  seat,  leaning 
his  hands  upon  his  stick,  and  clenching  them  upon  the  handle,  and 
resting  his  chin  on  them  again.  All  his  impatience  and  abstraction  of 
manner  had  vanished  now  ;  and  as  he  sat  there,  looking,  with  his  keen 
eyes,  steadily  towards  the  door,  Mark  could  not  help  thinking  what  a 
firm,  square,  powerful  face  it  was  ;  or  exulting  in  the  thought  that  Mr. 
Pecksniff,  after  playing  a  pretty  long  game  of  bowls  with  its  owner, 
seemed  to  be  at  last  in  a  very  fair  way  of  coming  in  for  a  rubber  or  two. 

Mark's  uncertainty  in  respect  of  what  was  going  to  be  done  or  said, 
and  by  whom  to  whom,  would  have  excited  him  in  itself  But  knowing  for 
a  certainty,  besides,  that  young  Martin  was  coming,  and  in  a  very  few 
minutes  must  arrive,  he  found  it  by  no  means  easy  to  remain  quiet  and 
silent.  But,  excepting  that  he  occasionally  coughed  in  a  hollow  and 
unnatural  manner  to  relieve  himself,  he  behaved  with  great  decorum 
through  the  longest  ten  minutes  he  had  ever  known. 

A  knock  at  the  door.  Mr.  Westlock.  Mr.  Tapley,  in  admitting 
him,  raised  his  eyebrows  to  the  highest  possible  pitch,  implying  thereby 
that  he  considered  himself  in  an  unsatisfactory  position.  Mr.  Chuzzlewit 
received  him  very  courteously. 

Mark  waited  at  the  door  for  Tom  Pinch  and  his  sister,  who  were 
coming  up  the  stairs.  The  old  man  went  to  meet  them  ;  took  her 
hands  in  his  ;  and  kissed  her  on  the  cheek.  As  this  looked  promising, 
Mr.  Tapley  smiled  benignantly. 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  had  resumed  his  chair,  before  young  Martin,  who  was 
close  behind  them,  entered.  The  old  man,  scarcely  looking  at  him, 
pointed  to  a  distant  seat.  This  was  less  encouraging  ;  and  Mr.  Tapley's 
spirits  fell  again. 

He  was  quickly  summoned  to  the  door  by  another  knock.  He  did 
not  start,  or  cry,  or  tumble  down,  at  sight  of  Miss  Graham  and  Mrs. 
Lupin,  but  he  drew  a  very  long  breath,  and  came  back  perfectly  resigned, 
looking  on  them  and  on  the  rest  with  an  expression  which  seemed  to 


598  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

say,  that  notliing  could  surprise  him  any  more ;  and  that  he  was  rather 
glad  to  have  done  with  that  sensation  for  ever. 

The  old  man  received  Mary  no  less  tenderly  than  he  had  received 
Tom  Pinch's  sister.  A  look  of  friendly  recognition  passed  between 
himself  and  Mrs.  Lupin,  which  implied  the  existence  of  a  perfect  under- 
standing between  them.  It  engendered  no  astonishment  in  Mr.  Tapley  ; 
for,  as  he  afterwards  observed,  he  had  retired  from  the  business,  and  sold 
off  the  stock. 

Not  the  least  curious  feature  in  this  assemblage  was,  that  everybody 
present  was  so  much  surprised  and  embarrassed  by  the  sight  of  everybody 
else,  that  nobody  ventured  to  speak.  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  alone  broke  silence. 

"  Set  the  door  open,  Mark  !"  he  said  ;  "  and  come  here."^ 

Mark  obeyed. 

The  last  appointed  footstep  sounded  now  upon  the  stairs.  They  all 
knew  it.  It  was  Mr.  Pecksniff's  ;  and  Mr.  Pecksniff  was  in  a  hurry  too, 
for  he  came  bounding  up  with  such  uncommon  expedition  that  he 
stumbled  twice  or  thrice. 

"  Where  is  my  venerable  friend  !"  he  cried,  upon  the  upper  landing  ; 
and  then  with  open  arms  came  darting  in. 

Old  Martin  merely  looked  at  him  ;  but  Mr.  Pecksniff  started  back  as 
if  he  had  received  the  charge  of  an  electric  battery. 

"  My  venerable  friend  is  well  ?"  cried  Mr.  Pecksniff. 

"  Quite  well." 

It  seemed  to  reassure  the  anxious  inquirer.  He  clasped  his  hands, 
and,  looking  upward  with  a  pious  joy,  silently  expressed  his  gratitude. 
He  then  looked  round  on  the  assembled  group,  and  shook  his  head 
reproachfully.      For  such  a  man  severel}',  quite  severely. 

"  Oh,  vermin  !"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  Oh,  blood-suckers  !  Is  it  not 
enough  that  you  have  embittered  the  existence  of  an  individual,  wholly 
unparalleled  in  the  biographical  records  of  amiable  persons ;  but  must 
you  now,  even  now,  when  he  has  made  his  election,  and  reposed  his  trust 
in  a  Numble,  but  at  least  sincere  and  disinterested  relative ;  must  you 
now,  vermin  and  swarmers  (I  regret  to  make  use  of  these  strong  expres- 
sions, my  dear  Sir,  but  there  are  times  when  honest  indignation  will 
not  be  controlled),  must  you  now,  vermin  and  swarmers  (for  I  will 
repeat  it),  taking  advantage  of  his  unprotected  state,  assemble  round 
him  from  all  quarters,  as  wolves  and  vultures,  and  other  animals  of  the 
feathered  tribe  assemble  round — I  will  not  say  round  carrion  or  a 
carcass,  for  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  is  quite  the  contrary — but  round  their  prey; 
their  prey ;  to  rifle  and  despoil ;  gorging  their  voracious  maws,  and 
staining  their  offensive  beaks,  with  every  description  of  carnivorous 
enjoyment !" 

As  he  stopped  to  fetch  his  breath,  he  waved  them  off,  in  a  solemn 
manner,  with  his  hand. 

"  Horde  of  unnatural  plunderers  and  robbers  !"  he  continued ; 
"  Leave  him !  leave  him,  I  say !  Begone  !  Abscond !  You  had  better  be 
off !  Wander  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  young  Sirs,  like  vagabonds  as 
you  are,  and  do  not  presume  to  remain  in  a  spot  which  is  hallowed  by  the 
gray  hairs  of  the  patriarchal  gentleman  to  whose  tottering  limbs  I  have 
the  honour  to  act  as  an  unworthy,  but  I  hope  an  unassuming,  prop  and 


600  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

"  The  curse  of  our  house,"  said  the  old  man,  looking  kindlj  down 
upon  her,  "has  been  the  love  of  self;  has  ever  been  the  love  of  self. 
How  often  have  I  said  so,  when  I  never  knew  that  I  had  wrought  it 
upon  others  !" 

He  drew  one  hand  through  Martin's  arm,  and  standing  so,  between 
them,  proceeded  thus  : 

"  You  all  know  how  I  bred  this  orphan  up,  to  tend  me.  None  of  you 
can  know  bj  what  degrees  I  have  come  to  regard  her  as  a  daughter ;  for 
she  has  won  upon  me,  by  her  self-forgetfulness,  her  tenderness,  her 
patience,  all  the  goodness  of  her  nature,  when  Heaven  is  her  witness  that 
I  took  but  little  pains  to  draw  it  forth.  It  blossomed  without  cultivation, 
and  it  ripened  without  heat.  I  cannot  find  it  in  my  heart  to  say  that  I 
am  sorry  for  it  now,  or  yonder  fellow  might  be  holding  up  his  head." 

Mr.  PecksniiF  put  his  hand  into  his  waistcoat,  and  slightly  shook 
that  part  of  him  to  which  allusion  had  been  made  :  as  if  to  signify 
that  it  was  still  uppermost. 

"  There  is  a  kind  of  selfishness,"  said  Martin  :  "  I  have  learned  it 
in  my  own  experience  of  my  own  breast :  which  is  constantly  upon  the 
watch  for  selfishness  in  others  ;  and  holding  others  at  a  distance  by 
suspicions  and  distrusts,  wonders  why  they  don't  approach,  and  don't 
confide,  and  calls  that  selfishness  in  them.  Thus  I  once  doubted  those 
about  me — not  without  reason  in  the  beginning — and  thus  I  once 
doubted  you,  Martin." 

"  Not  without  reason,"  Martin  answered  ;  "  either." 

"  Listen,  hypocrite!  Listen,  smooth-tongued,  servile,  crawling  knave!  " 
said  Martin.  "  Listen,  you  shallow  dog.  What !  When  I  was  seek- 
ing him,  you  had  already  spread  your  nets  ;  you  were  already  fishing 
for  him,  were  ye  ?  When  I  lay  ill  in  this  good  woman's  house,  and 
your  meek  spirit  pleaded  for  my  grandson,  you  had  already  caught  him, 
had  ye  ?  Counting  on  the  restoration  of  the  love  you  knew  I  bore  him, 
you  designed  him  for  one  of  your  two  daughters,  did  ye  1  Or  failing 
that,  you  traded  in  him  as  a  speculation  which  at  any  rate  should  blind 
me  with  the  lustre  of  your  charity,  and  found  a  claim  upon  me  !  Why, 
even  then  I  knew  you,  and  I  told  you  so.  Did  I  tell  you  that  I  knew 
you,  even  then  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  angry.  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  softly.  "  I  can  bear  a  great 
deal  from  you.     I  will  never  contradict  you,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit." 

"  Observe  ! "  said  Martin,  looking  round.  "  I  put  myself  in  that 
man's  hands  on  terms  as  mean  and  base,  and  as  degrading  to  himself  as 
I  could  render  them  in  words.  I  stated  them  at  length  to  him,  before 
his  own  children,  syllable  by  syllable,  as  coarsely  as  I  could,  and  with  as 
much  offence,  and  wdth  as  plain  an  exposition  of  my  contempt,  as 
words — not  looks  and  manner  merely — could  convey.  If  I  had  only 
called  the  angry  blood  into  his  face,  I  would  have  wavered  in  my 
purpose.  If  I  had  only  stung  him  into  being  a  man  for  a  minute  I 
would  have  abandoned  it.  If  he  had  offered  me  one  word  of  remon- 
strance, in  favour  of  the  grandson  whom  he  supposed  I  had  disinherited ; 
if  he  had  pleaded  wdth  me,  though  never  so  faintly,  against  my  appeal 
to  him  to  abandon  him  to  misery  and  cast  him  from  his  house;  I  think 
I  could  have  borne  with  him  for  ever  afterwards.     But  not  a  word,  not 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  601 

a  word.  Pandering  to  fhe  worst  of  human  passions  was  tlie  ofRce  of 
Lis  nature  ;  and  faithfully  he  did  his  work  ! " 

"  I  am  not  angry,"  observed  Mr.  Pecksniff.  "  I  am  hurt,  Mr.  Chuz- 
zlewit :  wounded  in  my  feelings  :  but  I  am  not  angry,  my  good  Sir." 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  resumed. 

"  Once  resolved  to  try  him,  I  was  resolute  to  pursue  the  trial  to  the 
end  ;  but  while  I  was  bent  on  fathoming  the  depth  of  his  duplicity,  I 
made  a  sacred  compact  with  myself  that  I  would  give  him  credit  on  the 
other  side  for  any  latent  spark  of  goodness,  honour,  forbearance — any 
virtue — that  might  glimmer  in  him.  From  first  to  last,  there  has  been 
no  such  thing.  Not  once.  He  cannot  say  I  have  not  given  him  oppor- 
tunity. He  cannot  say  I  have  ever  led  him  on.  He  cannot  say  I  have 
not  left  him  freely  to  himself  in  all  things  ;  or  that  I  have  not  been  a 
passive  instrument  in  his  hands,  which  he  might  have  used  for  good 
as  easily  as  evil.     Or  if  he  can,  he  Lies  !     And  that 's  his  nature  too." 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  interrupted  Pecksniff,  shedding  tears.  "  I  am  not 
angry,  Sir.  I  cannot  be  angry  with  you.  But  did  you  never,  my  dear 
Sir,  express  a  desire  that  the  unnatural  young  man  who  by  his  wicked 
arts  has  estranged  your  good  opinion  from  me,  for  the  time  being  : 
only  for  the  time  being  :  that  your  grandson,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  should 
be  dismissed  my  house  1    llecollect  yourself,  my  christian  friend." 

"  I  have  said  so,  have  I  not  1  "  retorted  the  old  man  sternly.  "  I  could 
not  tell  how  far  your  specious  hypocrisy  had  deceived  him,  knave  ;  and 
knew  no  better  way  of  opening  his  eyes  than  by  presenting  you  before 
him  in  your  own  servile  character.  Yes.  I  did  express  that  desire. 
And  you  leaped  to  meet  it ;  and  you  met  it ;  and  turning  in  an  instant 
on  the  hand  you  had  licked  and  beslavered,  as  only  such  hounds  can, 
you  strengthened,  and  confirmed,  and  justified  me  in  my  scheme," 

Mr.  Pecksniff  made  a  bow  ;  a  submissive,  not  to  say,  a  grovelling 
and  an  abject  bow.  If  he  had  been  complimented  on  his  practice  of 
the  loftiest  virtues,  he  never  could  have  bowed  as  he  bowed  then. 

"  The  wretched  man  who  has  been  murdered,"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  went 
on  to  say ;  "  then  passing  by  the  name  of " 

"  Tigg,"  suggested  Mark. 

"  Of  Tigg ;  brought  begging  messages  to  me,  on  behalf  of  a  friend 
of  his,  and  an  unworthy  relative  of  mine  ;  and  finding  him  a  man 
well  enough  suited  to  my  purpose,  I  employed  him  to  glean  some  news 
of  you,  Martin,  for  me.  It  was  from  him  I  learned  that  you  had  taken 
up  your  abode  with  yonder  fellow.  It  was  he,  who  meeting  you  here, 
in  town,  one  evening — you  remember  where  1 " 

"  At  the  pawnbroker's  shop,"  said  Martin. 

"  Yes ;  watched  you  to  your  lodging,  and  enabled  me  to  send  you  a 
Bank  note." 

''  I  lately  thought,"  said  Martin,  greatly  moved,  "  that  it  had  come 
from  you.  I  little  thought  that  you  were  interested  in  my  fate.  If  I 
had " 

"  If  you  had,"  returned  the  old  man,  sorrowfully,  "  you  would  have 
shev/n  less  knowledge  of  me  as  I  seemed  to  be,  and  as  I  really  was. 
I  hoped  to  bring  you  back,  Martin,  penitent  and  humbled.  I  hoped  to 
distress  you  into  coming  back  to  me.     Much  as  I  loved  ycu,  I  had  that 


602  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES     OF 

to  acknowledge  which  I  could  not  reconcile  it  to  myself  to  avow,  then^ 
unless  you  made  submission  to  me,  first.  Thus  it  was  I  lost  you.  If  I 
have  had,  indirectly,  any  act  or  part  in  the  fate  of  that  unhappy  man, 
by  putting  means,  however  small,  within  his  reach  ;  Heaven  forgive 
me !  I  might  have  known,  perhaps,  that  he  would  misuse  money  ; 
that  it  was  ill  bestowed  upon  him  ;  and  that  sown  by  his  hands,  it 
could  engender  mischief  only.  But  I  never  thought  of  him  at  that 
time,  as  having  the  disposition  or  ability  to  be  a  serious  impostor,  or 
otherwise  than  as  a  thoughtless,  idle-humoured,  dissipated  spendthrift, 
sinning  more  against  himself  than  others,  and  frequenting  low  haunts 
and  indulging  vicious  tastes,  to  his  own  ruin  only." 

"  Beggin'  your  pardon,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  who  had  Mrs.  Lupin 
on  his  arm  by  this  time,  quite  agreeably  ;  "  if  I  may  make  so  bold  as 
say  so,  my  opinion  is,  as  you  was  quite  correct,  and  that  he  turned  out 
perfectly  nat'ral  for  all  that.  There 's  a  surprisin'  number  of  men,  Sir, 
w^ho  as  long  as  they  've  only  got  their  own  shoes  and  stockings  to  depend 
upon,  will  walk  down-hill,  along  the  gutters  quiet  enough,  and  by 
themselves,  and  not  do  much  harm.  But  set  any  on  'em  up  with  a 
coach  and  horses,  Sir;  and  it's  wonderful  what  a  knowledge  of  drivin' 
he  Tl  shew,  and  how  he  11  fill  his  wehicle  with  passengers,  and  start  off 
in  the  middle  of  the  road,  neck  or  nothing,  to  the  Devil !  Bless  your 
heart.  Sir,  there 's  ever  so  many  Tiggs  a  passing  this  here  Temple-gate 
any  hour  in  the  day,  that  only  want  a  chance,  to  turn  out  full-blown 
Montagues  every  one  !  " 

"  Your  ignorance,  as  you  call  it,  Mark,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  "  is 
wiser  than  some  men's  enlightenment,  and  mine  among  them.  You 
are  right ;  not  for  the  first  time  to-day.  Now  hear  me  out,  my  dears. 
And  hear  me,  you,  who,  if  what  I  have  been  told  be  accurately  stated, 
are  Bankrupt  in  pocket  no  less  than  in  good  name  !  And  when  you  have 
heard  me,  leave  this  place,  and  poison  my  sight  no  more  ! " 

Mr.  Pecksniff  laid  his  hand  upon  his  breast,  and  bowed  again. 

"  The  penance!  have  done  in  his  house,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  "has 
carried  this  reflection  with  it  constantly,  above  all  others.  That  if  it  had 
pleased  Heaven  to  visit  such  infirmity  on  my  old  age  as  really  had  reduced 
me  to  the  state  in  which  I  feigned  to  be,  I  should  have  brought  its 
misery  upon  myself.  Oh  you  whose  wealth,  like  mine,  has  been  a 
source  of  continual  unhappiness,  leading  you  to  distrust  the  nearest  and 
dearest,  and  to  dig  yourself  a  living  grave  of  suspicion  and  reserve  ; 
take  heed  that,  having  cast  off  all  whom  you  might  have  bound  to  you, 
and  tenderly,  you  do  not  become  in  your  decay  the  instrument  of 
such  a  man  as  this,  and  waken  in  another  world  to  the  knowledge  of 
such  wrong,  as  would  embitter  Heaven  itself,  if  wrong  or  you  could 
ever  reach  it  !  " 

And  then  he  told  them,  how  he  had  sometimes  thought,  in  the 
beginning,  that  love  might  grow  up  between  Mary  and  Martin  ;  and 
how  he  had  pleased  his  fancy  with  the  picture  of  observing  it  when  it 
was  new,  and  taking  them  to  task,  apart,  in  counterfeited  doubt,  and 
then  confessing  to  them  that  it  had  been  an  object  dear  to  his  heart;  and 
by  his  sympathy  with  them,  and  generous  provision  for  their  young 
fortunes,  establishing  a  claim  on  their  affection  and  regard  which  nothing 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  603 

should  wither,  and  whlcli  should  surround  his  old  age  with  means  of 
happiness.  How  in  the  first  dawn  of  this  design,  and  when  the  pleasure 
of  such  a  scheme  for  the  happiness  of  others  was  new  and  indistinct 
within  him,  Martin  had  come  to  tell  him  that  he  had  already  chosen  for 
himself;  knowing  that  he,  the  old  man,  had  some  faint  project  on  that 
head,  but  ignorant  whom  it  concerned.  How  it  was  little  comfort 
to  him  to  know  that  Martin  had  chosen  Her,  because  the  grace  of  his 
design  was  lost,  and  because,  finding  that  she  had  returned  his  love,  he 
tortured  himself  with  the  reflection  that  they,  so  young,  to  whom  he 
had  been  so  kind  a  benefactor,  were  already  like  the  world,  and  bent  on 
their  own  selfish,  stealthy  ends.  How  in  the  bitterness  of  this  impression^ 
and  of  his  past  experience,  he  had  reproached  Martin  so  harshly 
(forgetting  that  he  had  never  invited  his  confidence  on  such  a  point,, 
and  confounding  what  he  had  meant  to  do  with  what  he  had  done),  that 
high  words  sprung  up  between  them,  and  they  separated  in  wrath. 
How  he  loved  him  still,  and  hoped  he  would  return.  How  on  the  night 
of  his  illness  at  the  Dragon,  he  had  secretly  written  tenderly  of  him,  and 
made  him  his  heir,  and  sanctioned  his  marriage  with  Mary  :  and  hoWy 
after  his  interview  with  Mr.  Pecksnifi",  he  had  distrusted  him  again, 
and  burnt  the  paper  to  ashes,  and  had  lain  down  in  his  bed  distracted 
by  suspicions,  doubts,  and  regrets. 

And  then  he  told  them  how,  resolved  to  probe  this  Pecksnifi",  and  to- 
prove  the  constancy  and  truth  of  Mary  (to  himself  no  less  than  Martin), 
he  had  conceived  and  entered  on  his  plan  ;  and  how,  beneath  her  gentle- 
ness and  patience,  he  had  softened  more  and  more  ;  still  more  and  more 
beneath  the  goodness  and  simplicity,  the  honour  and  the  manly  faith 
of  Tom.  And  when  he  spoke  of  Tom,  he  said  God  bless  him  !  and 
the  tears  were  in  his  eyes  ;  for  he  said  that  Tom,  mistrusted  and 
disliked  by  him  at  first,  had  come  like  summer  rain  upon  his  heart ; 
and  had  disposed  it  to  believe  in  better  things.  And  Martin  took  him 
by  the  hand,  and  Mary  too,  and  John,  his  old  friend,  stoutly  too  ;  and 
Mark,  and  Mrs.  Lupin,  and  his  sister,  little  Ruth.  And  peace  of  mind, 
deep,  tranquil  peace  of  mind,  was  in  Tom's  heart. 

The  old  man  then  related  how  nobly  Mr.  Pecksniff  had  performed 
the  duty  in  which  he  stood  indebted  to  society,  in  the  matter  of  Tom's 
dismissal ;  and  how,  having  often  heard  disparagement  of  Mr.  Westlock 
from  Pecksniffian  lips,  and  knowing  him  to  be  a  friend  to  Tom,  he  had 
used,  through  his  confidential  agent  and  solicitor,  that  little  artifice- 
which  had  kept  him  in  readiness  to  receive  his  unknown  friend  in  London. 
And  he  called  on  Mr.  Pecksniff"  (by  the  name  of  Scoundrel)  to  remember- 
that  there  again  he  had  not  trapped  him  to  do  evil,  but  that  he  had 
done  it  of  his  own  free  will  and  agency ;  nay,  that  he  had  cautioned 
him  against  it.  And  once  again  he  called  on  Mr.  Pecksnifi"  (by  the- 
name  of  Hangdog)  to  remember  that  when  Martin  coming  home  at  last, 
an  altered  man,  had  sued  for  the  forgiveness  which  awaited  him,  he, 
Pecksniff,  had  rejected  him  in  language  of  his  own,  and  had  remorse- 
lessly stepped  in  between  him  and  the  least  touch  of  natural  tenderness. 
"  For  which,"  said  the  old  man,  "if  the  bending  of  my  finger  would 
remove  a  halter  from  your  neck,  I  would  n't  bend  it !  " 

"  Martin,"  he  added,  "  your  rival  has  not  been  a  dangerous  one,  but. 


604  LIFE     AND     ADVENTURES     OP 

Mrs.  Lupin  here^  has  played  duenna  for  some  weeks ;  not  so  mucli  to 
■watch  your  love  as  to  watch  her  lover.  For  that  Ghoule  " — his  fertility 
in  finding  names  for  Mr.  PecksniiF  was  astonishing — "  would  have 
crawled  into  her  daily  walks  otherwise,  and  polluted  the  fresh  air. 
What 's  this?     Her  hand  is  trembling  strangely.     See  if  you  can  hold  it." 

Hold  it !     If  he  clasped  it  half  as  tightly  as  he  did  her  waist. 

Well,  well !     That 's  dangerous. 

But  it  was  good  in  him  that  even  then,  in  his  high-  fortune  and 
Jtiappiness,  with  her  lips  nearly  printed  on  his  own,  and  her  proud  young 
beauty  in  his  close  embrace,  he  had  a  hand  still  left  to  stretch  out  to 
Tom  Pinch. 

"  Oh,  Tom  !  Dear  Tom  !  I  saw  you,  accidentally,  coming  here.  For- 
give me  !  " 

"  Forgive  !  "  cried  Tom.  "  I  '11  never  forgive  you  as  long  as  I  live, 
Martin,  if  you  say  another  syllable  about  it.  Joy  to  you  both  !  Joy, 
my  dear  fellow,  fifty  thousand  times." 

Joy  !  There  is  not  a  blessing  on  earth  that  Tom  did  not  wish  them. 
There  is  not  a  blessing  on  earth  that  Tom  would  not  have  bestowed  upon 
them,  if  he  could. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  stepping  forward  ;  "  but 
you  was  mentionin',  just  now,  a  lady  of  the  name  of  Lupin,  Sir." 

"  I  was,"  returned  old  Martin. 

"  Yes,  Sir.     It 's  a  pretty  name.  Sir  1 " 

"  A  very  good  name,"  said  Martin. 

"  It  seems  a'most  a  pity  to  change  such  a  name  into  Tapley.  Don't 
it,  Sir  ?  "  said  Mark. 

"  That  depends  upon  the  lady.     What  is  he?'  opinion  1 " 

"Why,  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Tapley,  retiring,  with  a  bow,  towards  the 
buxom  hostess,  "  her  opinion  is  as  the  name  ain't  a  change  for  the 
better,  but  the  indiwidual  may  be  ;  and  therefore,  if  nobody  ain't 
acquainted  with  no  jest  cause  or  impediment,  et  cetrer,  the  Blue  Dragon 
will  be  con-werted  into  the  Jolly  Tapley.  A  sign  of  my  own  inwention, 
Sir.     Wery  new,  conwivial,  and  expressive  ! " 

The  whole  of  these  proceedings  were  so  agreeable  to  Mr.  Pecksniff, 
that  he  stood  with  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  floor  and  his  hands  clasping 
one  another  alternately,  as  if  a  host  of  penal  sentences  were  being  passed 
upon  him.  Not  only  did  his  figure  appear  to  have  shrunk,  but  his 
<liscomfiture  seemed  to  have  extended  itself,  even  to  his  dress.  His 
clothes  seemed  to  have  grown  shabbier,  his  linen  to  have  turned  yellow, 
liis  hair  to  have  become  lank  and  frowzy;  his  very  boots  looked 
villanous  and  dim,  as  if  their  gloss  had  departed  with  his  own. 

Feeling,  rather  than  seeing,  that  the  old  man  now  pointed  to  the  door, 
he  raised  his  eyes,  picked  up  his  hat,  and  thus  addressed  him : 

"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  Sir  !  you  have  partaken  of  my  hospitality." 

"  And  paid  for  it,"  he  observed. 

"  Thank  you.  That  savours,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  taking  out  his 
pocket-handkerchief,  "  of  your  old  familiar  frankness.  You  have  paid 
for  it.  I  was  about  to  make  the  remark.  You  have  deceived  me.  Sir. 
Thank  you  again.  I  am  glad  of  it.  To  see  you  in  the  possession  of 
your  health  and  faculties  on  any  terms,  is,  in  itself,  a  sufficient  recom- 


MARTIN    CHtrZZLEWIT.  605 

pense.     To  liave  been  deceived,  implies  a  trusting  nature.     Mine  is  a 
trustino'  nature.     I  am  thankful  for  it.     I  would  rather  have  a  trustinor 

o  o 

nature,  do  you  know,  Sir,  than  a  doubting  one  ! " 

Here  Mr.  Pecksniff,  with  a  sad  smile,  bowed,  and  wiped  his  eyes. 

"  There  is  hardly  any  person  present,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  said  Pecksniff, 
"  by  whom  I  have  not  been  deceived.  I  have  forgiven  those  persons  on 
the  spot.  That  was  my  duty  ;  and,  of  course,  I  have  done  it.  Whether 
it  was  worthy  of  you  to  partake  of  my  hospitality,  and  to  act  the  part 
you  did  act  in  my  house  ;  that,  Sir,  is  a  question  which  I  leave  to  your 
own  conscience.   And  your  conscience  does  not  acquit  you.    No,  Sir,  no  !" 

Pronouncing  these  last  words  in  a  loud  and  solemn  voice,  Mr.  Pecksniff 
was  not  so  absolutely  lost  in  his  own  fervour  as  to  be  unmindful  of  the 
expediency  of  getting  a  little  nearer  to  the  door. 

"  I  have  been  struck  this  day,"  said  Mr.  Pecksniff,  "  with  a  walking- 
stick,  which  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  has  knobs  upon  it :  on  that 
delicate  and  exquisite  portion  of  the  human  anatomy,  the  brain.  Several 
blows  have  been  inflicted.  Sir,  without  a  walking-stick,  upon  that  tenderer 
portion  of  my  frame  :  my  heart.  You  have  mentioned.  Sir,  my  being 
bankrupt  in  my  purse.  Yes,  Sir,  I  am.  By  an  unfortunate  speculation, 
combined  with  treachery,  I  find  myself  reduced  to  poverty ;  at  a  time. 
Sir,  when  the  child  of  my  bosom  is  widowed,  and  affliction  and  disgrace 
are  in  my  family." 

Here  Mr.  Pecksniff  wiped  his  eyes  again,  and  gave  himself  two  or 
three  little  knocks  upon  the  breast,  as  if  he  were  answering  two  or 
three  other  little  knocks  from  within,  given  by  the  tinkling  hammer  of 
his  conscience,  to  express  "  Cheer  up,  my  boy  !" 

"  I  know  the  human  mind,  although  I  trust  it.  That  is  my  w^eakness. 
Do  I  not  know.  Sir ;"  here  he  became  exceedingly  plaintive,  and  was 
observed  to  glance  towards  Tom  Pinch ;  "  that  my  misfortunes  bring 
this  treatment  on  me  ?  Do  I  not  know.  Sir,  that  but  for  them  I  never 
should  have  heard  what  I  have  heard  to-day  ?  Do  I  not  know,  that  in 
the  silence  and  the  solitude  of  night,  a  little  voice  will  whisper  in  your 
ear,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  '  This  was  not  well.  This  was  not  well,  Sir  ! '  Think 
of  this.  Sir  (if  you  will  have  the  goodness),  remote  from  the  impulses  of 
passion,  and  apart  from  the  specialities,  if  I  may  use  that  strong 
remark,  of  prejudice.  And  if  you  ever  contemplate  the  silent  tomb.  Sir, 
which  you  will  excuse  me  for  entertaining  some  doubt  of  your  doing, 
after  the  conduct  into  which  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  be  betrayed 
this  day  ;  if  you  ever  contemplate  the  silent  tomb,  Sir,  think  of  me.  If 
you  find  yourself  approaching  to  the  silent  tomb,  Sir,  think  of  me.  If 
you  should  wish  to  have  anything  inscribed  upon  your  silent  tomb.  Sir, 
let  it  be,  that  I — ah,  my  remorseful  Sir  !  that  I — the  humble  individual 
who  has  now  the  honour  of  reproaching  you  :  forgave  you.  That  I 
forgave  you  when  my  injuries  were  fresh,  and  when  my  bosom  was 
newly  wrung.  It  may  be  bitterness  to  you  to  hear  it  now,  Sir,  but  you 
will  live  to  seek  a  consolation  in  it.  May  you  find  a  consolation  in  it 
when  you  want  it,  Sir  !     Good  morning  !  " 

With  this  sublime  address  Mr.  Pecksniff  departed.  But  the  effect  of 
his  departure  was  much  impaired  by  his  being  immediately  afterwards 
run  against,  and  nearly  knocked  down  by,  a  monstrously-excited  little 


606  LIFE   AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

man  in  velveteen  shorts  and  a  very  tall  hat ;  who  came  bursting  up 
the  stairs,  and  straight  into  the  chambers  of  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  as  if  he 
were  deranged. 

"  Is  there  anybody  here  that  knows  him  1"  cried  the  little  man.  "  Is 
there  anybody  here  that  knows  him?  Oh,  my  stars,  is  there  anybody 
here  that  knows  him  !" 

They  looked  at  each  other  for  an  explanation ;  but  nobody  knew  any- 
'thing  more  than  that  here  was  an  excited  little  man  with  a  very  tall 
hat  on,  running  in  and  out  of  the  room  as  hard  as  he  could  go  ;  making 
his  single  pair  of  bright  blue  stockings  appear  at  least  a  dozen ;  and 
constantly  repeating,  in  a  shrill  voice,  "  Is  there  anybody  here  that 
knows  him  ?" 

"If  your  brains  is  not  turned  topjy  turjey,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes  !"  ex- 
claimed another  voice,  "hold  that  there  nige  of  yourn,  I  beg  you,  Sir." 

At  the  same  time,  Mrs.  Gamp  was  seen  in  the  doorway;  out  of  breath 
from  coming  up  so  many  stairs,  and  panting  fearfully ;  but  dropping 
-curtseys  to  the  last. 

"  Excuge  the  weakness  of  the  man,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  eyeing  Mr. 
Sweedlepipe,  with  great  indignation ;  "  and  well  I  might  expect  it,  as 
I  should  have  know'd,  and  wishin  he  was  drownded  in  the  Thames  afore 
I  had  brought  him  here,  which  not  a  blessed  hour  ago  he  nearly  shaved 
the  noge  off  from  the  father  of  as  lovely  a  family  as  ever,  Mr.  Ghuzzlewit, 
was  born  three  sets  of  twins,  and  would  have  done  it,  only  he  see  it 
a  goin  in  the  glass,  and  dodged  the  rager.  And  never,  Mr.  Sweedlepipes, 
I  do  assure  you.  Sir,  did  I  so  well  know  what  a  misfortun  it  was  to  be 
acquainted  with  you,  as  now  I  do,  which  so  I  say,  Sir,  and  I  don't 
•deceive  you  !" 

"  I  ask  your  pardon,  ladies  and  gentlemen  all,"  cried  the  little  barber, 
taking  off  his  hat,  "  and  yours  too,  Mrs.  Gamp.  But — but,"  he  added  this, 
half-laughing  and  half-crying,  "  Is  there  anybody  here  that  knows  him  1" 

As  the  barber  said  these  words,  a  something  in  top-boots,  with  its 
head  bandaged  up,  staggered  into  the  room,  and  began  going  round  and 
round  and  round,  apparently  under  the  impression  that  it  was  walking 
straight  forward. 

"  Look  at  him!"  cried  the  excited  little  barber.  "  Here  he  is  !  That'll 
soon  wear  off,  and  then  he'll  be  all  right  again.  He  's  no  more  dead 
than  I  am.     He  's  all  alive  and  hearty.     Ain't  you,  Bailey  ?" 

"  B — r — reether  so.  Poll  1"  replied  that  gentleman. 

"  Look  here  !"  cried  the  little  barber,  laughing  and  crying  in  the 
same  breath.  "  When  I  steady  him  he  comes  all  right.  There  !  He 's 
all  right  now.  Nothing 's  the  matter  with  him  now,  except  that  he  's  a 
little  shook  and  rather  giddy  ;  is  there,  Bailey  ?" 

"  B — r — reether  shook.  Poll — reether  so !"  said  Mr.  Bailey.  "  What, 
my  lovely  Sairey  !     There  you  air  !  " 

"  What  a  boy  he  is  !"  cried  the  tender-hearted  Poll,  actually  sobbing 
over  him.  "  I  never  see  such  a  boy  !  It 's  all  his  fun.  He 's  full  of  it. 
He  shall  go  into  the  business  along  with  me.  I  am  determined  he  shall. 
We  11  make  it  Sweedlepipe  and  Bailey.  He  shall  have  the  sporting- 
branch  (what  a  one  he  '11  be  for  the  matches  !)  and  me  the  shavin'.  1 11 
make  over  the  birds  to  him  as  soon  as  ever  he 's  well  enough.     He  shall 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  607 

Lave  the  little  bullfinch  in  the  shop,  and  all.  He  's  sech  a  boy  !  I  ask 
jour  pardon,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  but  I  thought  there  might  be  some 
one  here  that  know'd  him  !" 

Mrs.  Gamp  had  observed,  not  without  jealousy  and  scorn,  that  a 
favourable  impression  appeared  to  exist  in  behalf  of  Mr.  8weedlepipe 
and  his  young  friend  ;  and  that  she  had  fallen  rather  into  the  back- 
ground in  consequence.  She  now  struggled  to  the  front,  therefore,  and 
stated  her  business. 

"  Which,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  she  said,  "  is  well  beknown  to  Mrs.  Harris 
as  has  one  sweet  infant  (though  she  do  not  wish  it  known)  in  her  own 
family  by  the  mother's  side,  kep  in  spirits  in  a  bottle  ;  and  that  sweet 
babe  she  see  at  Greenwich  Fair,  a  travellin  in  company  vith  the  pink- 
■eyed  lady,  Prooshan  dwarf,  and  livin  skelinton,  which  judge  her  feelins 
wen  the  barrel  organ  played,  and  she  was  showed  her  own  dear  sister's 
child,  the  same  not  bein  expected  from  the  outside  picter,  where  it  was 
painted  quite  contrairy  in  a  livin  state,  a  many  sizes  larger,  and  per- 
forming beautiful  upon  the  Arp,  which  never  did  that  dear  child  know 
or  do  :  since  breathe  it  never  did,  to  speak  on,  in  this  wale  !  And  Mrs. 
Harris,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  has  knowed  me  many  year,  and  can  give  you 
information  that  the  lady  which  is  widdered  can't  do  better  and  may  do 
worse,  than  let  me  wait  upon  her,  which  I  hope  to  do.  Permittin 
the  sweet  faces  as  I  see  afore  me." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  '^  Is  that  your  business  ?  Was  this 
good  person  paid  for  the  trouble  we  gave  her  ?  " 

"  I  paid  her.  Sir,"  returned  Mark  Tapley  ;  "  liberal." 

"  The  young  man's  words  is  true,"  said  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  and  thank 
you  kindly." 

'•  Then  here  we  will  close  our  acquaintance,  Mrs.  Gamp,"  retorted 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit.     "  And  Mr.  Sweedlepipe — is  that  your  name  1  " 

"  That  is  my  name,  Sir,"  replied  Poll,  accepting  with  a  profusion 
of  gratitude,  some  chinking  pieces  which  the  old  man  slipped  into  his 
hand. 

"  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  take  as  much  care  of  your  lady-lodger  as  you 
can,  and  give  her  a  word  or  two  of  good  advice  now  and  then.  Such," 
said  old  Martin,  looking  gravely  at  the  astonished  Mrs.  Gamp,  "  as 
hinting  at  the  expediency  of  a  little  less  liquor,  and  a  little  more 
humanity,  and  a  little  less  regard  for  herself,  and  a  little  more  regard 
for  her  patients,  and  perhaps  a  trifle  of  additional  honesty.  Or  when 
Mrs.  Gamp  gets  into  trouble,  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  it  had  better  not  be  at 
a  time  when  I  am  near  enough  to  the  Old  Bailey,  to  volunteer  myself 
as  a  witness  to  her  character.  Endeavour  to  impress  that  upon  her  at 
your  leisure,  if  you  please." 

Mrs.  Gamp  clasped  her  hands,  turned  up  her  eyes  until  they  were 
quite  invisible,  threw  back  her  bonnet  for  the  admission  of  fresh  air  to 
her  heated  brow  ;  and  in  the  act  of  saying  faintly — "  Less  liquor  ! — 
Sairey  Gamp  ! — Bottle  on  the  chimley-piece,  and  let  me  put  my  lips  to 
it,  when  I  am  so  dispoged  !  " — fell  into  one  of  the  walking  swoons  :  in 
which  pitiable  state  she  was  conducted  forth  by  Mr.  Sweedlepipe,  who 
between  his  two  patients,  the  swooning  Mrs.  Gamp  and  the  revolving 
Bailey,  had  enough  to  do,  poor  fellow. 


608  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

The  old  man  looked  about  him,  with  a  smile,  until  his  ejes  rested  on 
Tom  Pinch's  sister  ;  when  he  smiled  the  more. 

"  We  will  all  dine  here  together,"  he  said ;  "  and  as  you  and  Mary  have 
enough  to  talk  of,  Martin,  you  shall  keep  house  for  us  until  the  after- 
noon, with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tapley.  I  must  see  your  lodgings  in  the 
meanwhile,  Tom." 

Tom  was  quite  delighted.     So  was  Ruth.     She  would  go  with  them. 

"  Thank  you,  my  love,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  "  But  I  am  afraid  I 
must  take  Tom  a  little  out  of  the  way,  on  business.  Suppose  you  go 
on  first,  my  dear  ?  " 

Pretty  little  Ruth  was  equally  delighted  to  do  that. 

"  But  not  alone,"  said  Martin,  "  not  alone.  Mr.  Westlock,  I  dare 
say,  will  escort  you." 

Why,  of  course  he  would  :  what  else  had  Mr.  Westlock  in  his  mind  ? 
How  dull  these  old  men  are  ! 

"  You  are  sure  you  have  no  engagement  1 "  he  persisted. 

Engagement !     As  if  he  could  have  any  engagement  ! 

So  they  went  off  arm  in  arm.  When  Tom  and  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  went 
off  arm  in  arm  a  few  minutes  after  them,  the  latter  was  still  smiling  : 
and  really,  for  a  gentleman  of  his  habits,  in  rather  a  knowing  manner. 


CHAPTER  LIII. 


WHAT  JOHN  WESTLOCK  SAID  TO  TOM  PINCH's  SISTER  ;  WHAT  TOM  PINCh's 
SISTER  SAID  TO  JOHN  WESTLOCK  j  WHAT  TOM  PINCH  SAID  TO  BOTH  OF 
THEM  j    AND  HOW  THEY  ALL  PASSED  THE  REMAINDER  OP  THE  DAY. 

Brilliantly  the  Temple  Fountain  sparkled  in  the  sun,  and  laugh- 
ingly its  liquid  music  played,  and  merrily  the  idle  drops  of  water 
danced  and  danced,  and  peeping  out  in  sport  among  the  trees,  plunged 
lightly  down  to  hide  themselves,  as  little  Ruth  and  her  companion  came 
towards  it. 

And  why  they  came  towards  the  Fountain  at  all  is  a  mystery  ;  for 
they  had  no  business  there.  It  was  not  in  their  way.  It  was  quite  out 
of  their  way.  They  had  no  more  to  do  with  the  Fountain,  bless  you^ 
than  they  had  with — with  Love,  or  any  out  of  the  way  thing  of  that  sort. 

It  was  all  very  well  for  Tom  and  his  sister  to  make  appointments  by 
the  Fountain,  but  that  was  quite  another  affair.  Because,  of  course, 
when  she  had  to  wait  a  minute  or  two,  it  would  have  been  very  awk- 
ward for  her  to  have  had  to  wait  in  any  but  a  tolerably  quiet  spot ;  and 
that  was  as  quiet  a  spot  :  everything  considered  :  as  they  could  choose. 
But  when  she  had  John  Westlock  to  take  care  of  her,  and  was  going 
home  with  her  arm  in  his  (home  being  in  a  different  direction 
altogether),  their  coming  anywhere  near  that  Fountain,  was  quite 
extraordinary. 

However,  there  they  found  themselves.  And  another  extraordinary 
part  of  the  matter,  was,  that  they  seemed  to  have  come  there,  by  a 
silent  understanding.     Yet  when  they  got  there,  they  were  a  little  con- 


MAETIN    CHUZZLETTIT.  609 

fused  hj  being  there,  wliich  was  tlie  strangest  part  of  all ;  because  there 
is  nothing  naturally  confusing  in  a  Fountain.     We  all  know  that. 

What  a  good  old  place  it  was  !  John  said.  With  quite  an  earnest 
affection  for  it. 

"  A  pleasant  place,  indeed,"  said  little  Ptuth.     "  So  shady  !  "  . 
Oh  wicked  little  Ruth  ! 

They  came  to  a  stop  when  John  began  to  praise  it.  The  day  was 
exquisite ;  and  stopping  at  all,  it  was  quite  natural — nothing  could  be 
more  so — that  they  should  glance  down  Garden  Court ;  because  Garden 
Court  ends  in  the  Garden,  and  the  Garden  ends  in  the  River,  and  that 
glimpse  is  very  bright  and  fresh  and  shining  on  a  summer's  day.  Then 
oh  little  Ruth,  why  not  look  boldly  at  it !  Why  fit  that  tiny,  precious, 
blessed  little  foot  into  the  cracked  corner  of  an  insensible  old  flas-stone 
in  the  pavement ;  and  be  so  very  anxious  to  adjust  it  to  a  nicety  ! 

If  the  Fiery  faced  matron  in  the  crunched  bonnet  could  have  seen 
them  as  they  walked  away  :  how  many  years'  purchase,  might  Fiery 
Face  have  been  disposed  to  take  for  her  situation  in  Furnival's  Inn  as 
laundress  to  Mr.  Westlock  ! 

They  went  away,  but  not  through  London's  streets  !  Through  some 
enchanted  city,  where  the  pavements  were  of  air  ;  where  all  the  rough 
sounds  of  a  stirring  town  were  softened  into  gentle  music  ;  where  every 
thing  was  happy  ;  where  there  was  no  distance,  and  no  time.  There 
were, two  good-tempered  burly  draymen  letting  down  big  butts  of  beer 
into  a  cellar,  somewhere;  and  when  John  helped  her — almost  lifced  her 
— the  lightest,  easiest,  neatest  thing  you  ever  saw — across  the  rope, 
they  said  he  owed  them  a  good  turn  for  giving  him  the  chance.  Celestial 
draymen !    ■ 

Green  pastures,  in  the  summer  tide,  deep-littered  straw-yards  in  the 
winter,  no  stint  of  corn  and  clover,  ever  to  that  noble  horse  who  icould 
dance  on  the  pavement  with  a  gig  behind  him,  and  who  frightened  her, 
and  made  her  clasp  his  arm  with  both  hands  (both  hands  :  meeting  one 
upon  the  other,  so  endearingly  1),  and  caused  her  to  implore  him  to  take 
refuge  in  the  pastry-cook's  ;  and  afterwards  to  peep  out  at  the  door 
so  shrinkingly  ;  and  then  :  looking  at  him  with  those  eyes  :  to  ask  him 
was  he  sure — now  was  he  sure — they  might  go  safely  on  !  Oh  for  a 
string  of  rampant  horses  !  For  a  lion,  for  a  bear,  a  mad  bull,  any 
thing  to  bring  the  little  hands  together  on  his  arm,  again  ! 

They  talked,  of  course.  They  talked  of  Tom,  and  all  these  changes, 
and  the  attachment  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  had  conceived  for  him,  and  the 
bright  prospects  he  had  in  such  a  friend,  and  a  great  deal  more  to  the 
same  purpose.  The  more  they  talked,  the  more  afraid  this  fluttering 
little  Ruth  became  of  any  pause  ;  and  sooner  than  have  a  pause  she 
would  say  the  same  things  over  again  ;  and  if  she  hadn't  courage  or 
presence  of  mind  enough  for  that  (to  say  the  truth  she  very  seldom 
had),  she  was  ten  thousand  times  more  charming  and  irresistible  than 
she  had  been  before. 

"  Martin  will  be  married  very  soon  now,  I  suppose,"  said  John. 

She  supposed  he  would.  Never  did  a  bewitching  little  woman 
suppose  anything  in  such  a  faint  voice  as  Ruth  supposed  that. 

But  feeling  that  another  of  those  alarming  pauses  was  approaching, 

R   R 


610  LIFE   AND   ADVENTURES    OF 

she  remarked  that  he  would  have  a  beautiful  wife.    Didn't  Mr.  Westlock 
think  so  1 

"  Ye — yes,"  said  John  ;  "  oh,  yes." 

She  feared  he  was  rather  hard  to  please,  he  spoke  so  coldly. 

"  Rather  say  already  pleased,"  said  John.  "  I  have  scarcely  seen  her. 
I  had  no  care  to  see  her.     I  had  no  eyes  for  //er,  this  morning." 

Oh,  good  gracious  ! 

It  was  well  they  had  reached  their  destination.  She  never  could 
have  gone  any  further.  It  would  have  been  impossible  to  walk  in  such 
a  tremble. 

Tom  had  not  come  in.  They  entered  the  triangular  parlour  together, 
and  alone.     Fiery  Face,  Fiery  Face,  how  many  years'  purchase  oiow  f 

She  sat  down  on  the  little  sofa,  and  untied  her  bonnet-strings.  He 
sat  down  by  her  side,  and  very  near  her :  very,  very  near  her.  Oh, 
rapid,  swelling,  bursting  little  heart,  you  knew  that  it  would  come  to 
this,  and  hoped  it  would.     Why  beat  so  wildly,  heart  ! 

"  Dear  Ruth  !  Sweet  Ruth  !  If  I  had  loved  you  less,  T  could  have 
told  you  that  I  loved  you,  long  ago.  I  have  loved  you  from  the  first. 
There  never  was  a  creature  in  the  world  more  truly  loved  than  you, 
dear  Ruth,  by  me  !  " 

She  clasped  her  little  hands  before  her  face.  The  gushing  tears  of 
joy,  and  pride,  and  hope,  and  innocent  affection,  would  not  be  restrained. 
Fresh  from  her  full  young  heart  they  came  to  answer  him. 

"  My  dear  love  !  If  this  is  :  I  almost  dare  to  hope  it  is,  now  :  not 
painful  or  distressing  to  you,  you  make  me  happier  than  I  can  tell,  or 
you  imagine.  Darling  Ruth  !  My  own  good,  gentle,  winning  Ruth  ! 
I  hope  I  know  the  value  of  your  heart,  I  hope  I  know  the  worth  of  your 
angel  nature.  Let  me  try  and  show  you  that  I  do ;  and  you  will  make 
me  happier,  Ruth " 

"  Not  happier,"  she  sobbed,  "  than  you  make  me.  No  one  can  be 
happier,  John,  than  you  make  me  !  " 

Fiery  Face,  provide  yourself !  The  usual  wages,  or  the  usual  warning. 
It 's  all  over,  Fiery  Face.     We  needn't  trouble  you  any  further. 

The  little  hands  could  meet  each  other  now,  without  a  rampant  horse 
to  urge  them.  There  was  no  occasion  for  lions,  bears,  or  mad  bulls.  It 
could  all  be  done,  and  infinitely  better,  without  their  assistance.  No 
burly  drayman,  or  big  butts  of  beer,  were  wanted  for  apologies.  No 
apology  at  all  was  wanted.  The  soft,  light  touch  fell  coyly,  but  quite 
naturally,  upon  the  lover's  shoulder ;  the  delicate  waist,  the  drooping 
head,  the  blushing  cheek,  the  beautiful  eyes,  the  exquisite  little  mouth 
itself,  were  all  as  natural  as  possible.  If  all  the  horses  in  Araby  had 
run  away  at  once,  they  couldn't  have  improved  upon  it. 

They  soon  began  to  talk  of  Tom  again. 

"  I  hope  he  will  be  glad  to  hear  of  it !"  said  John,  with  sparkling  eyes. 

Ruth  drew  the  little  hands  a  little  tighter  when  he  said  it,  and  looked 
up  seriously  into  his  face. 

"  I  am  never  to  leave  him,  am  I,  dear  ?  I  could  never  leave  Tom.  I 
am  sure  you  know  that." 

"  Do  you  think  I  would  ask  you  1 "  he  returned,  with  a — well  ! 
Never  mind  with  what. 


MARTIN   CHUZZLEWIT.  611 

"  I  am  sure  you  never  would,"  she  answered,  the  bright  tears  standing 
in  her  eyes. 

"  And  I  will  swear  it,  Ruth,  my  darling,  if  you  please.  Leave  Tom  ! 
That  would  be  a  strange  beginning.  Leave  Tom,  dear  !  If  Tom  and 
we  be  not  inseparable,  and  Tom  (God  bjless  him)  have  not  all  honour 
and  all  love  in  our  home,  my  little  wife,  may  that  home  never  be  !  And 
that 's  a  strong  oath,  Ruth." 

Shall  it  be  recorded  how  she  thanked  him  1  Yes,  it  shall.  In  all 
simplicity  and  innocence  and  purity  of  heart,  yet  with  a  timid,  graceful, 
half-determined  hesitation,  she  set  a  little  rosy  seal  upon  the  vow,  whose 
colour  was  reflected  in  her  face,  and  flashed  up  to  the  braiding  of  her 
dark  brown  hair. 

"  Tom  will  be  so  happy,  and  so  proud,  and  glad,"  she  said,  clasping 
her  little  hands.  "  But  so  surprised  !  I  am  sure  he  has  never  thought 
of  such  a  thing." 

Of  course  John  asked  her  immediately — because  you  know  they  were 
in  that  foolish  state  when  great  allowances  must  be  made — when  she 
had  begun  to  think  of  such  a  thing,  and  this  made  a  little  diversion  in 
their  talk  ;  a  charming  diversion  to  them,  but  not  so  interesting  to  us  ; 
at  the  end  of  which,  they  came  back  to  Tom  again. 

"  Ah,  dear  Tom  !"  said  Ruth.  "  I  suppose  I  ought  to  tell  you  every- 
thing now.    I  should  have  no  secrets  from  you.    Should  I  John,  love?" 

It  is  of  no  use  saying  how  that  preposterous  John  answered  her, 
because  he  answered  in  a  manner  which  is  untranslateable  on  paper, 
though  highly  satisfactory  in  itself.  But  what  he  conveyed  was.  No  no 
no,  sweet  Ruth  ;  or  something  to  that  effect. 

Then  she  told  him  Tom's  great  secret ;  not  exactly  saying  how  she 
had  found  it  out,  but  leaving  him  to  understand  it  if  he  liked ;  and 
John  was  sadly  grieved  to  hear  it,  and  was  full  of  sympathy  and  sorrow. 
Rut  they  would  try,  he  said,  only  the  more,  on  this  account,  to  make 
him  happy,  and  to  beguile  him  with  his  favourite  pursuits.  And  then, 
in  all  the  confidence  of  such  a  time,  he  told  her  how  he  had  a  capital 
opportunity  of  establishing  himself  in  his  old  profession  in  the  country; 
and  how  he  had  been  thinking,  in  the  event  of  that  happiness  coming 
upon  him  which  had  actually  come — there  was  another  slight  diversion 
here — how  he  had  been  thinking  that  it  would  afibrd  occupation  to 
Tom,  and  enable  them  to  live  together  in  the  easiest  manner,  without 
any  sense  of  dependence  on  Tom's  part ;  and  to  be  as  happy  as  the  day 
was  long  :  and  Ruth  receiving  this  with  joy,  they  went  on  catering  for 
Tom  to  that  extent  that  they  had  already  purchased  him  a  select  library 
and  built  him  an  organ,  on  which  he  was  performing  with  the  greatest 
satisfaction  :  when  they  heard  him  knocking  at  the  door. 

Though  she  longed  to  tell  him  what  had  happened,  poor  little  Ruth 
was  greatly  agitated  by  his  arrival ;  the  more  so  because  she  knew  that 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit  was  with  him.     So  she  said,  all  in  a  tremble  : 

"  What  shall  I  do,  dear  John  !  I  can't  bear  that  he  should  hear  it 
from  any  one  but  me,  and  I  could  not  tell  him,  unless  we  were  alone." 

"  Do,  my  love,"  said  John,  "  whatever  is  natural  to  you  on  the 
impulse  of  the  moment,  and  I  am  sure  it  will  be  right." 

He  had  hardly  time  to  say  thus  much,  and  Ruth  had  hardly  time  to 

E  B  2 


612  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

— -just  to  get  a  little  farther  off — upon  the  sofa,  when  Tom  and  Mr. 
Chuzzlevvit  came  in.  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  came  first,  and  Tom  was  a  few 
seconds  behind  him. 

Now  Ruth  had  hastily  resolved  that  she  would  beckon  Tom  up  stairs 
after  a  short  time,  and  would  tell  him  in  his  little  bedroom.  But  when 
she  saw  his  dear  old  face  come  in,  her  heart  was  so  touched  that  she  ran 
into  his  arms,  and  laid  her  head  down  on  his  breast,  and  sobbed  out, 
"  Bless  me,  Tom  !     My  dearest  brother  !  " 

Tom  looked  up,  in  surprise,  and  saw  John  Westlock  close  beside  him, 
holding  out  his  hand. 

"  John  !"  cried  Tom.     "John  !  " 

"  Dear  Tom,"  said  his  friend,  "  give  me  your  hand.  We  are  brothers, 
Tom." 

Tom  wrung  it  with  all  his  force,  embraced  his  sister  fervently,  and 
put  her  in  John  Westlock's  arms. 

"  Don't  speak  to  me,  John.     Heaven  is  very  good  to  us.     I " 

Tom  could  find  no  further  utterance,  but  left  the  room  ;  and  Ruth  went 
after  him. 

And  when  they  came  back,  which  they  did  by-and-by,  she  looked 
more  beautiful,  and  Tom  more  good  and  true  (if  that  were  possible) 
than  ever.  And  though  Tom  could  not  speak  upon  the  subject  even 
now :  being  yet  too  newly  glad  :  he  put  both  his  hands  in  both  of  John's 
with  emphasis  sufficient  for  the  best  speech  ever  spoken. 

"  I  am  glad  you  chose  to-day,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  to  John ;  with 
the  same  knowing  smile  as  when  they  had  left  him.  "  I  thought  you 
would.  I  hope  Tom  and  I  lingered  behind  a  discreet  time.  It 's  so  long 
since  I  had  any  practical  knowledge  of  these  subjects,  that  I  have  been 
anxious,  I  assure  you." 

"  Your  knowledge  is  still  pretty  accurate,  Sir,"  returned  John 
laughing,  "  if  it  led  you  to  foresee  what  would  happen  to-day." 

"  Why,  I  am  not  sure,  Mr.  Westlock,"  said  the  old  man,  "  that 
any  great  spirit  of  prophesy  was  needed,  after  seeing  you  and  Ruth 
together.  Come  hither,  pretty  one.  See  what  Tom  and  I  purchased 
this  morning,  while  you  were  dealing  in  exchange  with  that  young 
merchant  there." 

The  old  man's  way  of  seating  her  beside  him,  and  humouring  his  voice 
as  if  she  were  a  child,  was  whimsical  enough,  but  full  of  tenderness,  and 
not  ill  adapted,  somehow,  to  charming  little  Ruth. 

"  See  here  !  "  he  said,  taking  a  case  from  his  pocket,  "  what  a  beauti- 
ful necklace.  Ah  !  How  it  glitters  !  Ear-rings,  too,  and  bracelets, 
and  a  zone  for  your  waist.  This  set  is  yours,  and  Mary  has  another 
like  it.  Tom  couldn't  understand  why  I  wanted  two.  What  a  short- 
sighted Tom  !  Ear-rings  and  bracelets,  and  a  zone  for  your  waist ! 
Ah  !  beautiful !  Let  us  see  how  brave  they  look.  Ask  Mr.  Westlock 
to  clasp  them  on." 

It  was  the  prettiest  thing  to  see  her  holding  out  her  round,  white 
arm  ;  and  John  (oh  deep,  deep  John  !)  pretending  that  the  bracelet  was 
very  hard  to  fasten  ;  it  was  the  prettiest  thing  to  see  her  girding  on  the 
precious  little  zone,  and  yet  obliged  to  have  assistance  because  her 
fingers  were  in  such  terrible  perplexity  j  it  was  the  prettiest  thing  to 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  G13 

see  her  so  confused  and  bashful,  with  the  smiles  and  blushes  playing 
brightly  on  her  face,  like  the  sparkling  light  upon  the  jewels  ;  it  was 
the  prettiest  thing  that  you  would  see,  in  the  common  experiences  of  a 
twelvemonth,  rely  upon  it. 

"  The  set  of  jewels  and  the  wearer  are  so  well  matched,"  said  the  old 
man,  "  that  I  don't  know  which  becomes  the  other  most.  Mr.  Westlock 
could  tell  me,  I  have  no  doubt  ;  but  I'll  not  ask  him  for  he  is  bribed. 
Health  to  wear  them,  my  dear,  and  happiness  to  make  you  forgetful  of 
them,  except  as  a  remembrance  from  a  loving  friend  !  " 

He  patted  her  upon  the  cheek,  and  said  to  Tom  : 

"  I  must  play  the  part  of  father  here,  Tom,  also.  There  are  not  many 
fe-thers  who  marry  two  such  daughters  on  the  same  day;  but  we  will  over- 
look the  improbability  for  the  gratification  of  an  old  man's  fancy.  I  may 
claim  that  much  indulgence,"  he  added,  "  for  I  have  gratified  few  fancies 
enough  in  my  life  tending  to  the  happiness  of  others.  Heaven  knows  ! " 

These  various  proceedings  had  occupied  so  much  time,  and  they  fell 
into  such  a  pleasant  conversation  now,  that  it  was  within  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  of  the  time  appointed  for  dinner  before  any  of  them  thought  about 
it.  A  hackney-coach  soon  carried  them  to  the  Temple^  however  ;  and 
there  they  found  everything  prepared  for  their  reception. 

Mr.  Tapley  having  been  furnished  with  unlimited  credentials  relative 
to  the  ordering  of  dinner,  had  so  exerted  himself  for  the  honour  of  the 
party,  that  a  prodigious  bancpet  was  served,  under  the  joint  direction  of 
himself  and  his  Intended.  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  would  have  had  them  of  the 
party,  and  Martin  urgently  seconded  his  wish,  but  Mark  could  by  no 
means  be  persuaded  to  sit  down  at  table  ;  observing,  that  in  having  the 
honour  of  attending  to  their  comforts,  he  felt  himself,  indeed,  the  landlord 
of  the  Jolly  Tapley,  and  could  almost  delude  himself  into  the  belief  that 
the  entertainment  was  actually  being  held  under  the  Jolly  Tapley 's  roof. 

I" or  the  better  encouragement  of  himself  in  this  fable,  Mr.  Tapley 
took  it  upon  him  to  issue  divers  general  directions  to  the  waiters  from 
the  Hotel,  relative  to  the  disposal  of  the  dishes  and  so  forth  ;  and  as 
they  were  usually  in  direct  opposition  to  all  precedent,  and  were  always 
issued  in  his  most  facetious  form  of  thought  and  speech,  they  occasioned 
great  merriment  among  these  attendants ;  in  which  Mr.  Tapley  par- 
ticipated, with  an  infinite  enjoyment  of  his  own  humour.  He  like- 
wise entertained  them  with  short  anecdotes  of  his  travels,  appropriate 
to  the  occasion  ;  and  now  and  then  with  some  comic  passage  or 
other  betvreen  himself  and  Mrs.  Lupin  ;  so  that  explosive  laughs  v^-ere 
constantly  issuing  from  the  sideboard,  and  from  the  backs  of  chairs ; 
and  the  head-waiter  (who  wore  powder,  and  knee-smalls,  and  was 
usually  a  grave  man)  got  to  be  a  bright  scarlet  in  the  face,  and  broke 
his  waistcoat-strings,  audibly. 

Young  Martin  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  Tom  Pinch  at  the 
foot ;  and  if  there  were  a  genial  face  at  that  board,  it  was  Tom's. 
They  all  took  their  tone  from  Tom.  Everybody  drank  to  him,  every- 
body looked  to  him,  everybody  thought  of  him,  everybody  loved  him. 
If  he  so  much  as  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  somebody  put  out  a 
hand  to  shake  with  him.  Martin  and  Mary  had  taken  him  aside 
before   dinner,  and  spoken  to  him  so  heartily  of  the  time  to  come  : 


614  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

laying  such  fervent  stress  upon  the  trust  they  had  in  his  completion  of 
their  felicity,  by  his  society  and  closest  friendship  :  that  Tom  was 
positively  moved  to  tears.  He  couldn't  bear  it.  His  heart  was  full, 
he  said,  of  happiness.  And  so  it  was.  Tom  spoke  the  honest  truth. 
It  was.  Large  as  thy  heart  was,  dear  Tom  Pinch,  it  had  no  room  that 
day,  for  anything  but  happiness  and  sympathy  ! 

And  there  was  Fips,  old  Fips  of  Austin  Friars,  present  at  the  dinner^ 
and  turning  out  to  be  the  j  oiliest  old  dog  that  ever  did  violence  to  his 
convivial  sentiments  by  shutting  himself  up  in  a  dark  office.  "  Where 
is  he  ! "  said  Fips,  when  he  came  in.  And  then  he  pounced  on  Tom, 
and  told  him  that  he  wanted  to  relieve  himself  of  all  his  old  constraint : 
and  in  the  first  place  shook  him  by  one  hand,  and  in  the  second  place 
shook  him  by  the  other,  and  in  the  third  place  nudged  him  in  the 
waistcoat,  and  in  the  fourth  place,  said,  "  How  are  you  ! "  and  in  a 
great  many  other  places  did  a  great  many  other  things  to  shew  his 
friendliness  and  joy.  And  he  sang  songs,  did  Fips  ;  and  made  speeches, 
did  Fips  ;  and  knocked  off  his  wine  pretty  handsomely,  did  Fips  ;  and, 
in  short,  he  was  a  perfect  Trump,  was  Fips,  in  all  respects. 

But  ah !  the  happiness  of  strolling  home  at  night — obstinate  little 
Euth,  she  wouldn't  hear  of  riding  ! — as  they  had  done  on  that  dear 
night,  from  Furnival's  Inn  !  The  happiness  of  being  able  to  talk  about 
it,  and  to  confide  their  happiness  to  each  other !  The  happiness  of 
stating  all  their  little  plans  to  Tom,  and  seeing  his  bright  face  grow 
brighter  as  they  spoke  ! 

When  they  reached  home,  Tom  left  John  and  his  sister  in  the  parlour, 
and  went  upstairs  into  his'  own  room,  under  pretence  of  seeking  a  book* 
And  Tom  actually  winked  to  himself,  when  he  got  upstairs :  he  thought 
it  such  a  deep  thing  to  have  done. 

"  They  like  to  be  by  themselves'^of  course,"  said  Tom  ;  "  and  I  came 
away  so  naturally,  that  I  have  no  doubt  they  are  expecting  me,  every 
moment,  to  return.     That 's  capital  1" 

But  he  had  not  sat  reading  very  long,  when  he  heard  a  tap  at  his  door. 
"  May  I  come  in  T  said  John. 
"  Oh,  surely  1"  Tom  replied. 

"  Don't  leave  us,  Tom.  Don't  sit  by  yourself.  We  want  to  make 
you  merry ;  not  melancholy." 

"  My  dear  friend,"  said  Tom,  with  a  cheerful  smile. 
"  Brother,  Tom.     Brother." 

"  My  dear  brother,"  said  Tom ;  "  there  is  no  danger  of  my  being 
melancholy.  How  can  I  be  melancholy,  when  I  know  that  you  and 
Ruth  are  so  blest  in  each  other  !  I  think  I  can  find  my  tongue  to-night, 
John,"  he  added,  after  a  moment's  pause.  "  But  I  never  can  tell  you 
what  unutterable  joy  this  day  has  given  me.  It  would  be  unjust  to 
you  to  speak  of  your  having  chosen  a  portionless  girl,  for  I  feel  that  you 
know  her  worth  ;  I  am  sure  you  know  her  worth.  Nor  will  it  diminish 
in  your  estimation,  John ;  which  money  might." 

"  Which  money  would,  Tom,"  he  returned.  "  Her  worth  !  Oh,  who 
could  see  her  here,  and  not  love  her.  Who  could  know  her,  Tom,  and 
not  honour  her.  Who  could  ever  stand  possessed  of  such  a  heart 
as  her's,  and  grow  indifferent  to  the  treasure.     Who  could  feel  the 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  •;  615 

rapture  that  I  feel  to-day,  and  love  as  I  love  her,  Tom  ;  ^vitllout 
knowing  something  of  her  worth  !  Your  joy  unutterable  !  No,  no, 
Tom.     It 's  mine,  it 's  mine." 

"  No,  no,  John,"  said  Tom.     "  It 's  mine,  it 's  mine."  ; 

Their  friendly  contention  was  brought  to  a  close  by  little  Ruth 
herself,  who  came  peeping  in  at  the  door.  And  oh,  the  look,  the 
glorious,  half-proud,  half-timid  look  she  gave  Tom,  when  her  lover  drew 
her  to  his  side !  As  much  as  to  say,  "  Yes  indeed,  Tom,  he  will  do  it. 
But  then  he  has  a  right  you  know.     Because  I  am  fond  of  him,  Tom." 

As  to  Tom,  he  was  perfectly  delighted.  He  could  have  sat  and 
looked  at  them,  just  as  they  were,  for  hours. 

"  I  have  told  Tom,  love  ;  as  we  agreed  ;  that  we  are  not  going  to 
permit  him  to  run  away,  and  that  we  cannot  possibly  allow  it.  The 
loss  of  one  person,  and  such  a  person  as  Tom,  too,  out  of  our  small 
household  of  three,  is  not  to  be  endured ;  and  so  I  have  told  him.  Whether 
he  is  considerate,  or  whether  he  is  only  selfish,  I  don't  know.  But  he 
needn't  be  considerate,  for  he  is  not  the  least  restraint  upon  us.  Is  he, 
dearest  Ruth  % " 

Well  !  He  really  did  not  seem  to  be  any  particular  restraint  upon 
them.     Judging  from  what  ensued. 

Was  it  folly  in  Tom  to  be  so  pleased  by  their  remembrance  of  him, 
at  such  a  time  %  Was  their  graceful  love  a  folly,  were  their  dear 
caresses  follies,  was  their  lengthened  parting  folly  %  Was  it  folly  in 
him  to  watch  her  window  from  the  street,  and  rate  its  scantiest  gleam 
of  light  above  all  diamonds  ;  folly  in  her  to  breathe  his  name  upon  her 
knees,  and  pour  out  her  pure  heart  before  that  Being,  from  whom  such 
hearts  and  such  affections  come  ! 

If  these  be  follies,  then  Fiery  Face  go  on  and  prosper !  If  they  be 
not,  then  Fiery  Face  avaunt !  But  set  the  crunched  bonnet  at  some 
other  single  gentleman,  in  any  case,  for  one  is  lost  to  thee  for  ever ! 


CHAPTER  LIV. 

GIVES  THE  AUTHOR  GREAT  CONCERN.       FOR  IT  IS  THE  LAST  IN  THE  BOOK. 

ToDGERs's  was  in  high  feather,  and  mighty  preparations  for  a  late 
breakfast  were  astir  in  its  commercial  bowers.  The  blissful  morning 
had  arrived  when  Miss  Pecksniff  was  to  be  united,  in  holy  matrimony, 
to  Augustus. 

Miss  Pecksniff  was  in  a  frame  of  mind,  equally  becoming  to  herself 
and  the  occasion.  She  was  full  of  clemency  and  conciliation.  She  had 
laid  in  several  chaldrons  of  live  coals,  and  was  prepared  to  heap  thenx 
on  the  heads  of  her  enemies.  She  bore  no  spite  or  malice  in  her  heart, 
Not  the  least. 

Quarrels,  Miss  Pecksniff  said,  were  dreadful  things  in  families ;  and 
though  she  never  could  forgive  her  dear  papa,  she  was  willing  to  receive 
her  other  relations.  They  had  been  separated,  she  obseiTed,  too  long. 
It  was  enough  to  call  down  a  judgment  upon  the  family.     She  believed 


616  LIFE    AND    ADYENTIJRES    OF 

the  death  of  Jonas  was  a  judgment  on  them  for  their  internal  dissensions. 
And  Miss  Pecksniff  was  confirmed  in  this  belief,  by  the  lightness  with 
which  the  visitation  had  fallen  on  herself 

Bj  way  of  doing  sacrifice— not  in  triumph;  not,  of  course,  in  triumph, 
but  in  humiliation  of  spirit — this  amiable  young  person  wrote,  there- 
fore, to  her  kinswoman  of  the  strong  mind,  and  informed  her,  that  her 
nuptials  would  take  place  on  such  a  day.  That  she  had  been  much  hurt 
by  the  unnatural  conduct  of  herself  and  daughters,  and  hoped  they  might 
not  have  suffered  in  their  consciences.  That  being  desirous  to  forgive  her 
enemies,  and  make  her  peace  with  the  world  before  entering  into  the  most 
solemn  of  covenants  with  the  most  devoted  of  men,  she  now  held  out 
the  hand  of  friendship.  That  if  the  strong-minded  woman  took  that 
hand,  in  the  temper  in  which  it  was  extended  to  her,  she.  Miss  Pecksniff, 
did  invite  her  to  be  present  at  the  ceremony  of  her  marriage,  and  did 
furthermore  invite  the  three  red-nosed  spinsters,  her  daughters  (but  Miss 
Pecksniff  did  not  particularise  their  noses),  to  attend  as  bridesmaids. 

The  strong-minded  woman  returned  for  answer,  that  herself  and 
daughters  were,  as  regarded  their  consciences,  in  the  enjoyment  of 
robust  health,  which  she  knew  Miss  Pecksniff  would  be  glad  to  hear. 
That  she  had  received  Miss  Pecksniff's  note  with  unalloyed  delight, 
because  she  never  had  attached  the  least  importance  to  the  paltry  and 
insignificant  jealousies  with  which  herself  and  circle  had  been  assailed ; 
otherwise  than  as  she  found  them,  in  the  contemplation,  a  harmless 
source  of  innocent  mirth.  That  she  would  joyfully  attend  Miss  Peck- 
sniff's bridal ;  and  that  her  three  dear  daughters  would  be  happy  to 
assist,  on  so  interesting,  and  so  very  unexj^ected — which  the  strong- 
minded  woman  underlined — so  very  unexpected  an  occasion. 

On  the  receipt  of  this  gracious  reply.  Miss  Pecksniff  extended  her 
forgiveness  and  her  invitations  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spottletoe ;  to  Mr. 
George  Chuzzlewit  the  bachelor  cousin ;  to  the  solitary  female  who 
usually  had  the  toothache ;  and  to  the  hairy  young  gentleman  with  the 
outline  of  a  face  ;  surviving  remnants  of  the  party  that  had  once  assem- 
bled in  Mr.  Pecksniff 's  parlour.  After  which  Miss  Pecksniff  remarked, 
that  there  was  a  sweetness  in  doing  our  duty,  which  neutralised  the 
bitter  in  our  cups. 

The  wedding  guests  had  not  yet  assembled,  and  indeed  it  was  so  early 
that  l^Iiss  Pecksniff  herself  was  in  the  act  of  dressing  at  her  leisure,  when 
a  carriage  stopped  near  the  Monument ;  and  Mark,  dismounting  from  the 
rumble,  assisted  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  to  alight.  The  carriage  remained  in  wait- 
ing ;  so  did  Mr.  Tapley.     Mr.  Chuzzlewit  betook  himself  to  Todgers's. 

He  was  shown,  by  the  degenerate  successor  of  Mr.  Bailey,  into  the 
dining-parlour  ;  where — for  his  visit  was  expected — Mrs.  Todgers  im- 
mediately appeared, 

"  You  are  dressed,  I  see,  for  the  wedding,"  he  said. 

Mrs.  Todgers,  who  was  greatly  flurried  by  the  preparations,  replied 
in  the  affirmative. 

"  It  goes  against  my  wishes  to  have  it  in  progress  just  now,  I  assure 
you,  Sir,"  said  Mrs.  Todgers  ;  "but  Miss  Pecksniff's  mind  was  set  upon 
it,  and  it  really  is  time  that  Miss  Pecksnift'  was  married.  That  cannot 
be  denied.  Sir." 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  G17 

"  No/'  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  "  assuredly  not.  Her  sister  takes  no  part 
in  the  proceedings  ?" 

"  Oil  dear,  no,  Sir.  Poor  thing  !"  said  Mrs.  Todgers,  shaking  her 
head,  and  dropping  her  voice.  "  Since  she  has  known  the  worst,  she  has 
never  left  my  room  ;  the  next  room." 

"  Is  she  prepared  to  see  me  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  Quite  prepared,  Sir." 
.    "  Then  let  us  lose  no  time." 

Mrs.  Todgers  conducted  him  into  the  little  back  chamber  commanding 
the  prospect  of  the  cistern  ;  and  there,  sadly  different  from  when  it  had 
first  been  her  lodging,  sat  poor  Merry,  in  mourning  weeds.  The  room 
looked  very  dark  and  sorrowful  ;  and  so  did  she ;  but  she  had  one 
friend  beside  her,  faithful  to  the  last.     Old  Chuff ey. 

When  j\lr.  Chuzzlewit  sat  down  at  her  side,  she  took  his  hand  and  put 
it  to  her  lips.  She  was  in  great  grief.  He  too  was  agitated  ;  for  he  had 
not  seen  her  since  their  parting  in  the  churchyard. 

"  I  judged  you  hastily,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  fear  I  judged 
you  cruelly.     Let  me  know  that  I  have  your  forgiveness." 

"  She  kissed  his  hand  again  ;  and  retaining  it  in  hers,  thanked 
him,  in  a  broken  voice,  for  all  his  kindness  to  her^  since. 

"  Tom  Pinch,"  said  Martin,  "  has  faithfully  related  to  me  all  that  you 
desired  him  to  convey  ;  at  a  time  when  he  deemed  it  very  improbable 
that  he  would  ever  have  an  opportunity  of  delivering  your  message. 
Believe  me,  that  if  I  ever  deal  again  with  an  ill-advised  and  unawakened 
nature,  hiding  the  strength  it  thinks  its  weakness :  I  will  have  lono;  and 
merciful  consideration  for  it." 

"  You  had  for  me  ;  even  for  me,"  she  answered.  "  I  quite  believe  it. 
I  said  the  words  you  have  repeated,  wdien  my  distress  was  very  sharp  and 
hard  to  bear ;  I  say  them  now  for  others  ;  but  I  cannot  urge  them  for 
myself  You  spoke  to  me  after  you  had  seen  and  watched  me  day  by  day. 
There  was  great  consideration  in  that.  You  might  have  spoken,  perhaps, 
more  kindly;  you  might  have  tried  to  invite  my  confidence  by  greater 
gentleness  ;  but  the  end  would  have  been  the  same." 

He  shook  his  head  in  doubt,  and  not  without  some  inward  self- 
reproach. 

"  How  can  I  hope,"  she  said,  "  that  your  interposition  would  have 
prevailed  with  me,  when  I  know  how  obdurate  I  was  !  I  never  thought 
at  all ;  dear  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  I  never  thought  at  all ;  I  had  no  thought, 
no  heart,  no  care  to  find  one ;  at  that  time.  It  has  grown  out  of  my 
trouble.  I  have  felt  it  in  my  trouble.  I  vrouldn't  recall  my  trouble, 
such  as  it  is,  and  has  been — and  it  is  light  in  comparison  with  trials 
which  hundreds  of  good  people  suffer  every  day,  I  know — I  wouldn't 
recall  it  to-morrow,  if  I  could.  It  has  been  my  friend,  for  without  it,  no 
one  could  have  changed  me  ;  nothing  could  have  changed  me.  Do  not 
mistrust  me  because  of  these  tears;  1  cannot  help  them.  I  am  grateful 
for  it,  in  my  soul.     Indeed  I  am  ! " 

"  Indeed  she  is  ! "  said  Mrs.  Todgers.     "  I  believe  it.  Sir." 

"  And  so  do  I ! "  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  "  Now,  attend  to  me,  my  dear. 
Your  late  husband's  estate,  if  not  wasted  by  the  confession  of  a  large  debt 
to  the  broken  office  (which  document,  being  useless  to  the  runaways,  has 


618  LIFE   AND   ADYE5^TrRES    OF 

been  sent  over  to  England  by  them  :  not  so  much  for  tlie  sake  of  the 
creditors  as  for  the  gratification  of  their  dislike  to  him,  -whom  they 
suppose  to  be  still  living),  will  be  seized  upon  by  law ;  for  it  is  not  exempt^ 
as  I  learn,  from  the  claims  of  those  who  have  suffered  by  the  fraud  in 
which  he  was  engaged.  Your  father's  property  was  all,  or  nearly  all, 
embarked  in  the  same  transaction.  If  there  be  any  left,  it  will  be  seized 
on,  in  like  manner.     There  is  no  home  there" 

"  I  couldn't  return  to  him,"  she  said,  with  an  instinctive  reference  to 
his  having  forced  her  marriage  on.     "I  could  not  return  to  him  !  " 

"  I  know  it,"  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  resumed  :  "  and  I  am  here,  because  I 
know  it..  Come  with  me  !  From  all  who  are  about  me,  you  are 
certain  (I  have  ascertained  it)  of  a  generous  welcome.  But  until  your 
health  is  re-established,  and  you  are  sufficiently  composed  to  bear  that 
welcome,  you  shall  have  your  abode  in  any  quiet  retreat  of  your  own 
choosing,  near  London  ;  not  so  far  removed  but  that  this  kind-hearted 
lady  may  still  visit  you  as  often  as  she  pleases.  You  have  suffered  much  ; 
but  you  are  young,  and  have  a  brighter  and  a  better  future  stretching  out 
before  you.  Come  with  me.  Your  sister  is  careless  of  you,  I  know. 
She  hurries  on  and  publishes  this  marriage,  in  a  spirit  which  (to  say  no 
more  of  it)  is  barely  decent,  is  unsisterly,  and  bad.  Leave  the  house  before 
her  guests  arrive.  She  means  to  give  you  pain.  Spare  her  the  offence  ; 
and  come  with  me  ! " 

Mrs.  Todgers,  though  most  unwilling  to  part  with  her,  added  her 
persuasions.  Even  poor  old  Chuffey  (of  course  included  in  the  project) 
added  his.  She  hurriedly  attired  herself,  and  was  ready  to  depart,  when 
Miss  Pecksniff  dashed  into  the  room. 

Miss  Pecksniff  dashed  in  so  suddenly,  that  she  was  placed  in  an 
embarrassing  position.  For  though  she  had  completed  her  bridal 
toilette  as  to  her  head,  on  which  she  wore  a  bridal  bonnet  with  orange 
flowers,  she  had  not  completed  it  as  to  her  skirts,  which  displayed  no 
choicer  decoration  than  a  dimity  bedgown.  She  had  dashed  in,  in  fact, 
about  half  way  through,  to  console  her  sister  in  her  affliction  with  a 
sight  of  the  aforesaid  bonnet ;  and  being  quite  unconscious  of  the 
presence  of  a  visiter,  until  she  found  Mr.  Chuzzlewit  standing  face  to 
face  with  her,  her  suprise  was  an  uncomfortable  one. 

"  So  young  lady!"  said  the  old  man,  eyeing  her  with  strong  disfavour. 
"  You  are  to  be  married  to-day  !  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  modestly.  "I  am:  I — my  dress 
is  rather — really,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  " 

"  Your  delicacy,"  said  old  Martin,  "  is  troubled,  I  perceive.  I  am  not 
surprised  to  find  it  so.  You  have  chosen  the  period  of  your  marriage, 
unfortunately." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,"  retorted  Cherry  ;  very  red  and 
angry  in  a  moment:  "but  if  you  have  anything  to  say  on  that  subject,  I 
must  beg  to  refer  you  to  Augustus.  You  will  scarcely  think  it  manly, 
I  hope,  to  force  an  argument  on  me,  when  Augustus  is  at  all  times  ready 
to  discuss  it  with  you.  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  deceptions  that 
may  have  been  practised  on  my  parent,"  said  Miss  Pecksniff,  pointedly  ; 
"  and  as  I  wish  to  be  on  good  terms  with  everybody  at  such  a  time,  I 
should  have  been  glad  if  you  would  have  favoured  us  with  your  company 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  619 

at  breakfast.  But  I  will  not  ask  you  as  it  is :  seeing  that  you  have 
been  prepossessed  and  set  against  me  in  another  quarter.  I  hope  1  have 
my  natural  affections  for  another  quarter,  and  my  natural  pity  for 
another  quarter ;  but  I  cannot  always  submit  to  be  subservient  to  it, 
Mr.  Chuzzlewit.  That  would  be  a  little  too  much.  I  trust  I  have  more 
respect  for  myself,  as  well  as  for  the  man  who  claims  me  as  his  Bride." 

"  Your  sister,  meeting,  as  I  think  :  not  as  she  says,  for  she  has  said 
nothing  about  it :  with  little  consideration  from  you,  is  going  away  with 
me,"  said  Mr.  Chuzzlewit, 

"  I  am  very  happy  to  find  that  she  has  some  good  fortune  at  last," 
returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  tossing  her  head.  "  I  congratulate  her,  I  am  sure. 
I  am  not  surprised  that  this  event  should  be  painful  to  her  :  painful  to 
her  :  but  I  can't  help  that,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit.     It 's  not  my  fault." 

"  Come,  Miss  Pecksniff ! "  said  the  old  man,  quietly.  "  I  should  like  to 
see  a  better  parting  between  you.  I  should  like  to  see  a  better  parting 
on  your  side,  in  such  circumstances.  It  would  make  me  your  friend. 
You  may  want  a  friend  one  day  or  other." 

"  Every  relation  of  life,  Mr.  Chuzzlewit,  begging  your  pardon  :  and 
every  friend  in  life  : "  returned  Miss  Pecksniff,  with  dignity,  "  is  now 
bound  up  and  cemented  in  Augustus.  So  long  as  Augustus  is  my  own, 
I  cannot  want  a  friend.  When  you  speak  of  friends,  sir,  I  must  beg, 
once  for  all,  to  refer  you  to  Augustus.  That  is  my  impression  of  the 
religious  ceremony  in  which  I  am  so  soon  to  take  a  part  at  that  altar  to 
which  Augustus  will  conduct  me.  I  bear  no  malice  at  any  time,  much 
less  in  a  moment  of  triumph,  towards  any  one  ;  much  less  towards  my 
sister.  On  the  contrary,  I  congratulate  her.  If  you  didn't  hear  me  say 
so,  I  am  not  to  blame.  And  as  I  owe  it  to  Augustus,  to  be  punctual  on 
an  occasion  when  he  may  naturally  be  supposed  to  be— to  be  impatient 
— really,  Mrs.  Todgers  !  —  I  must  beg  your  leave.  Sir,  to  retire." 

After  these  words  the  bridal  bonnet  disappeared ;  with  as  much  state, 
as  the  dimity  bedgown  left  in  it. 

Old  Martin  gave  his  arm  to  the  younger  sister  without  speaking ;  and 
led  her  out.  Mrs.  Todgers,  with  her  holiday  garments  fluttering  in  the 
wind,  accompanied  them  to  the  carriage,  clung  round  Merry's  neck  at 
parting,  and  ran  back  to  her  own  dingy  house,  crying  the  whole  way. 
She  had  a  lean  lank  body,  Mrs.  Todgers,  but  a  well-conditioned  soul 
within.  Perhaps  the  Good  Samaritan  was  lean  and  lank,  and  found  it 
hard  to  live.     Who  knows  ! 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  followed  her  so  closely  with  his  eyes,  that,  until  she 
had  shut  her  own  door,  they  did  not  encounter  Mr.  Tapley's  face. 

"  Why,  Mark  ! "  he  said,  as  soon  as  he  observed  it,  "  what 's  the 
matter!" 

"  The  wonderfullest  ewent,  sir  ! "  returned  Mark,  pumping  at  his 
voice  in  a  most  laborious  manner,  and  hardly  able  to  articulate  with  all 
his  efforts.  "  A  coincidence  as  never  was  equalled  !  I'm  blessed  if  here 
aint  two  old  neighbours  of  ourn,  sir  !" 

"What  neighbours!"  cried  old  Martin,  looking  out  of  window, 
"Where  !" 

"  I  was  a  walkin'  up  and  down  not  five  yards  from  this  spot,"  said 
Mr.  Tapley,  breathless,  "  and  they  come  upon  me  like  their  own  ghosts. 


620  ■      LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF 

as  I  thought  they  was  !  It 's  the  wonderfullest  ewent  that  ever  hap- 
pened.     Bring  a  feather,  somebody,  and  knock  me  down  with  it !" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ! "  exclaimed  old  Martin,  quite  as  much  excited 
by  the  spectacle  of  Mark's  excitement,  as  that  strange  person  was  him- 
self.    "  Neighbours  where  !  " 

"  Here,  sir  ! "  replied  Mr.  Tapley.  "  Here  in  the  city  of  London  ! 
Here  upon  these  very  stones  !  Here  they  are,  sir  !  Don't  I  know  'em  ! 
Lord  love  their  welcome  faces,  don't  I  know  'em  !  " 

With  which  ejaculations  Mr.  Tapley  not  only  pointed  to  a  decent- 
looking  man  and  woman  standing  by,  but  commenced  embracing  them 
alternately,  over  and  over  again,  in  Monument  Yard. 

"Neighbours,  where  !"  old  Martin  shouted  :  almost  maddened  by 
his  ineffectual  efforts  to  get  out  at  the  coach-door. 

"  Neighbours  in  America  !  Neighbours  in  Eden  ! "  cried  Mark. 
"  Neighbours  in  the  swamp,  neighbours  in  the  bush,  neighbours  in  the 
fever.  Didn't  she  nurse  us  !  Didn't  he  help  us  !  Shouldn't  we  both 
have  died  without  'em  !  Hav'n't  they  come  a  strugglin'  back,  without 
a  single  child  for  their  consolation  !     And  talk  to  me  of  neighbours !" 

Away  he  went  again,  in  a  perfectly  wild  state,  hugging  them,  and 
skipping  round  them,  and  cutting  in  between  them,  as  if  he  were  per- 
forming some  frantic  and  outlandish  dance. 

Mr.  Chuzzlewit  no  sooner  gathered  who  these  people  were,  than  he 
burst  open  the  coach-door  somehow  or  other,  and  came  tumbling  out 
among  them ;  and  as  if  the  lunacy  of  Mr.  Tapley  were  contagious,  he 
immediately  began  to  shake  hands  too,  and  exhibit  every  demonstration 
of  the  liveliest  joy. 

"  Get  up  behind  !"  he  said.  "  Get  up  in  the  rumble.  Come  along 
with  me  !     Go  you  on  the  box,  Mark.     Home  !      Home  !" 

"  Home  !"  cried  Mr.  Tapley,  seizing  the  old  man's  hand  in  a  burst  of 
enthusiasm.  "  Exactly  my  opinion.  Sir.  Home,  for  ever  !  Excuse 
the  libert}^.  Sir,  I  can't  help  it.  Success  to  the  Jolly  Tapley  !  There 's 
nothin'  in  the  house  they  sha'n't  have  for  the  askin'  for,  except  a  bill. 
Home  to  be  sure  !     Hurrah  !" 

Home  they  rolled  accordingly,  when  he  had  got  the  old  man  in  again, 
as  fast  as  they  could  go ;  Mark  abating  nothing  of  his  fervor  by  the 
way,  but  allowing  it  to  vent  itself  as  unrestrainedly  as  if  he  had  been  on 
Salisbury  Plain. 

And  now  the  wedding  party  began  to  assemble  at  Todgers's.  Mr. 
Jinkins,  the  only  boarder  invited,  was  on  the  ground  first.  He  wore  a 
white  favor  in  his  button-hole,  and  a  bran  new  extra  super  double- 
milled  blue  saxony  dress  coat  (that  was  its  description  in  the  bill),  with 
a  variety  of  tortuous  embellishments  about  the  pockets,  invented  by  the 
artist  to  do  honour  to  the  day.  The  miserable  Augustus  no  longer  felt 
strongly  even  on  the  subject  of  Jinkins.  He  hadn't  strength  of  mind 
enough  to  do  it.  "  Let  him  come  !"  he  had  said,  in  answer  to  Miss 
Pecksniff,  when  she  urged  the  point.  "  Let  him  come  !  He  has  ever 
been  my  rock  ahead  through  life.  'Tis  meet  he  should  be  there.  Ha,  ha ! 
Oh,  yes !  let  Jinkins  come  !" 

Jinkins  had  come,  with  all  the  pleasure  in  life  ;  and  there  he  was. 
For  some  few  minutes  he  had  no  companion  but  the  breakfast,  which 


MAETIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  621 

was  set  fortli  in  the  drawing-room,  with  unusual  taste  and  ceremony.  But 
Mrs.  Todgers  soon  joined  him;  and  the  bachelor  cousin,  the  hairy  young 
gentleman,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spottletoe,  arrived  in  quick  succession. 

Mr.  Spottletoe  honoured  Jinkins  with  an  encouraging  bow.  "  Glad 
to  know  you,  Sir,"  he  said.  "  Give  you  joy !"  Under  the  impression  that 
Jinkins  was  the  happy  man. 

Mr.  Jinkins  explained.  He  was  merely  doing  the  honours  for  his  friend 
Mod  die,  who  had  ceased  to  reside  in  the  house^  and  had  not  yet  arrived, 

"  Not  arrived,  Sir  ! "  exclaimed  Spottletoe,  in  a  great  heat. 
J   "Not  yet,"  said  Mr.  Jinkins. 

"  Upon  my  soul !"  cried  Spottletoe.  "  He  begins  well !  Upon  my  life 
and  honour  this  young  man  begins  well  !  But  I  should  very  much  like 
to  know  how  it  is  that  every  one  who  comes  into  contact  with  this 
family  is  guilty  of  some  gross  insult  to  it.  Death  !  Not  arrived  yet. 
Not  here  to  receive  us  ! " 

The  nephew  with  the  outline  of  a  countenance,  suggested  that  perhaps 
he  had  ordered  a  new  pair  of  boots,  and  they  hadn't  come  home. 

"Don't  talk  to  me  of  Boots,  Sir!"  retorted  Spottletoe,  with  immense 
indignation.  "  He  is  bound  to  come  here  in  his  slippers  then  ;  he  is 
bound  to  come  here  barefoot.  Don't  offer  such  a  wretched  and  evasive 
plea  to  me  on  behalf  of  your  friend,  as  Boots,  Sir." 

"  He  is  not  my  friend,"  said  the  nephew.     "  I  never  saw  him." 

"  Very  well.  Sir,"  returned  the  fiery  Spottletoe.  "  Then  don't  talk 
to  me." 

The  door  was  thrown  open  at  this  juncture,  and  Miss  Pecksniff 
entered,  tottering,  and  supported  by  her  three  bridesmaids.  The  strong- 
minded  woman  brought  up  the  rear  ;  having  waited  outside  until  now, 
for  the  purpose  of  spoiling  the  effect. 

"  How  do  you  do,  ma'am !"  said  Spottletoe  to  the  strong-minded  woman 
in  a  tone  of  defiance.     "  I  believe  you  see  Mrs.  Spottletoe,  Ma'am." 

The  strong-minded  woman,  with  an  air  of  great  interest  in  Mrs. 
Spottletoe's  health,  regretted  that  she  was  not  more  easily  seen.  Nature 
erring,  in  that  lady's  case,  upon  the  slim  side. 

"  Mrs.  Spottletoe  is  at  least  more  easily  seen  than  the  bridegroom, 
Ma'am,"  returned  that  lady's  husband.  "  That  is,  unless  he  has  con- 
fined his  attentions  to  any  particular  part  or  branch  of  this  family,  which 
would  be  quite  in  keeping  with  its  usual  proceedings." 

"  If  you  allude  to  me,  Sir "  the  strong-minded  woman  began. 

"  Pray,"  interposed  Miss  Pecksniff,  "  do  not  allow  Augustus,  at  this 
awful  moment  of  his  life  and  mine,  to  be  the  means  of  disturbing  that 
harmony  which  it  is  ever  Augustus's  and  my  wish  to  maintain. 
Augustus  has  not  been  introduced  to  any  of  my  relations  now  present. 
He  preferred  not." 

"  Why,  then,  I  venture  to  assert,"  cried  Mr.  Spottletoe,  "  that  the  man 
who  aspires  to  join  this  family,  and  'prefers  not '  to  be  introduced  to  its 
members,  is  an  impertinent  Puppy.      That  is  my  opinion  oi  him  .'" 

The  strong-minded  woman  remarked  with  great  suavity,  that  she  was 
afraid  he  must  be.  Her  three  daughters  observed  aloud  that  it  was 
"  Shameful !  " 

"  You   do    not   know  Augustus,"    said    Miss   Pecksniff,    tearfully, 


€22  LIFE   AND   ADVENTUEES    OP 

"  indeed  you  do  not  know  him.  Augustus  is  all  mildness  and  humility. 
Wait  'till  you  see  Augustus,  and  I'm  sure  he  will  conciliate  your 
affections." 

"  The  question  arises,"  said  Spottletoe,  folding  his  arms  :  "  How 
long  we  are  to  wait.  I  am  not  accustomed  to  wait ;  that 's  the  fact. 
And  I  want  to  know  how  long  we  are  expected  to  wait." 

"  Mrs.  Todgers !  "  said  Charity,  "  Mr.  Jinkins  !  I  am  afraid  there 
must  be  some  mistake.  I  think  Augustus  must  have  gone  straight  to 
the  Altar  ! " 

As  such  a  thing  was  possible,  and  the  church  was  close  at  hand, 
Mr.  Jinkins  ran  off  to  see  :  accompanied  by  Mr.  George  Chuzzlewit  the 
bachelor  cousin,  who  preferred  anything  to  the  aggravation  of  sitting 
near  the  breakfast,  without  being  able  to  eat  it.  But  they  came  back 
with  no  other  tidings  than  a  familiar  message  from  the  clerk  importing 
that  if  they  wanted  to  be  married  that  morning,  they  had  better  look 
sharp  :  as  the  curate  wasn't  going  to  wait  there  all  day. 

The  bride  was  now  alarmed  ;  seriously  alarmed.  Good  Heavens 
what  could  have  happened  !     Augustus  !     Dear  Augustus  ! 

Mr.  Jinkins  volunteered  to  take  a  cab,  and  seek  him  at  the  newly- 
furnished  house.  The  strong-minded  woman  administered  comfort  to 
Miss  Pecksniff.  "  It  was  a  specimen  of  what  she  had  to  expect.  It 
would  do  her  good.  It  would  dispel  the  romance  of  the  affair."  The 
red-nosed  daughters  also  administered  the  kindest  comfort.  "  Perhaps 
he  'd  come,"  they  said.  The  sketchy  nephew  hinted  that  he  might  have 
fallen  off  a  bridge.  The  wrath  of  Mr.  Spottletoe  resisted  all  the  entreaties 
of  his  wife.  Everybody  spoke  at  once,  and  Miss  Pecksniff,  with  clasped 
hands,  sought  consolation  everywhere  and  found  it  nowhere,  when 
Jinkins  having  met  the  postman  at  the  door,  came  back  with  a  letter  : 
which  he  put  into  her  hand. 

Miss  Pecksniff  opened  it :  glanced  at  it ;  uttered  a  piercing  shriek  ; 
threw  it  down  upon  the  ground  :  and  fainted  away. 

They  picked  it  up  ;  and  crowding  round,  and  looking  over  one 
another's  shoulders,  read,  in  the  words  and  dashes  following,  this  com- 
munication : 

"Off  Gravesend. 

"  Clipper  Schooner,  Cupid. 

"  Wednesday  night. 

*'  Ever  injured  Miss  Pecksniff, 

"  Ere  this  reaches  you,  the  undersigned  will  be — if  not  a 
corpse — on  the  way  to  Van  Diemen's  Land.  Send  not  in  pursuit.  I 
never  will  be  taken  alive  ! 

"  The  burden — 300  tons  per  register — forgive,  if  in  my  distraction,  I 
allude  to  the  ship — on  my  mind — has  been  truly  dreadful.  Frequently 
— when  you  have  sought  to  soothe  my  brow  with  kisses — has  self- 
destruction  flashed  across  me.  Frequently — incredible  as  it  may  seem 
— have  I  abandoned  the  idea. 

"  I  love  another.  She  is  another's.  Everything  appears  to  be  some- 
body else's.  Nothing  in  the  world  is  mine — not  even  my  Situation — 
which  I  have  forfeited— by  my  rash  conduct — in  running  away. 


^/i£y<yl!^/i/lai^l  6j/^^'f/^o^s<ryi)7'^-//^  a/ ^^?'zA<?^a^^  c^/z^^". 


MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT.  623 

"  If  you  ever  loved  me,  liear  my  last  appeal  !  The  last  appeal  of  a 
'miserable  and  blighted  exile.  Forward  the  inclosed — it  is  the  key  of 
my  desk — to  the  office — by  hand.  Please  address  to  Bobbs  and 
Cholberry — I  mean  to  Chobbs  and  Bolberry — but  my  mind  is  totally 
unhinged.  I  left  a  penknife — with  a  buck-horn  handle — in  your 
work-box.  It  will  repay  the  messenger.  May  it  make  him  happier 
than  ever  it  did  me  ! 

"  Oh,  Miss  Pecksniff,  why  didn't  you  leave  me  alone  !  Was  it  not 
cruel,  cruel!  Oh,  my  goodness,  have  you  not  been  a  witness  of  my 
feelings — have  you  not  seen  them  flowing  from  my  eyes — did  you  not, 
yourself,  reproach  me  with  w^eeping  more  than  usual  on  that  dreadful 
night  when  last  we  met — in  that  house — where  I  once  was  peaceful — 
though  blighted — in  the  society  of  Mrs.  Todgers  ! 

"  But  it  was  written — in  the  Talmud — that  you  should  involve  yourself 
in  the  inscrutable  and  gloomy  Fate  w^hich  it  is  my  mission  to  accomplish, 
and  which  wreathes  itself — e'en  now — about  my — temples.  I  will  not 
reproach,  for  I  have  wronged  you.  May  the  Furniture  make  some  amends ! 

"  Farewell !  Be  the  proud  bride  of  a  ducal  coronet,  and  forget  me  ! 
Long  may  it  be  before  you  know  the  anguish  with  which  I  now  sub- 
scribe myself — amid  the  tempestuous  bowlings  of  the — sailors, 

"  Unalterably, 

"  Never  yours, 

"  Augustus." 

They  thought  as  little  of  Miss  Pecksniff,  while  they  greedily  perused 
this  letter,  as  if  she  were  the  very  last  person  on  earth  whom  it  con- 
cerned. But  Miss  Pecksniff  really  had  fainted  away.  The  bitterness  of 
her  mortification ;  the  bitterness  of  having  summoned  witnesses,  and  such 
witnesses  to  behold  it ;  the  bitterness  of  knowing  that  the  strong-minded 
woman  and  the  red-nosed  daughters  towered  triumphant  in  this  hour  of 
their  anticipated  overthrow  ;  was  too  much  to  be  borne.  Miss  Pecksniff 
had  fainted  away  in  earnest. 


"What  sounds  are  these  that  fall  so  grandly  on  the  ear  !  What  dark- 
ening room  is  this  ! 

And  that  mild  figure  seated  at  an  organ,  who  is  he  %  Ah  Tom,  dear 
Tom,  old  friend  ! 

Thy  head  is  prematurely  grey,  though  Time  has  passed  between  thee 
^nd  our  old  association,  Tom.  But  in  those  sounds  wdth  which  it  is 
thy  wont  to  bear  the  twilight  company,  the  music  of  thy  heart  speaks 
out :  the  story  of  thy  life  relates  itself. 

Thy  life  is  tranquil,  calm,  and  happy,  Tom.  In  the  soft  strain  which 
ever  and  again  comes  stealing  back  upon  the  ear,  the  memory  of  thine 
old  love  may  find  a  voice  perhaps ;  but  it  is  a  pleasant,  softened,  whis- 
pering memory,  like  that  in  w^hich  we  sometimes  hold  the  dead,  and 
does  not  pain  or  grieve  thee,  God  be  thanked  ! 

Touch  the  notes  lightly,  Tom,  as  lightly  as  thou  wdlt,  but  never  will 
thine  hand  fall  half  so  lightly  on  that  Instrument  as  on  the  head  of 
thine  old  tyrant  brought  down  very,  very  low  ;  and  never  will  it  make 
as  hollow  a  response  to  any  touch  of  thine,  as  he  does  always. 


624:  LIFE    AND    ADVENTURES    OF    MARTIN    CHUZZLEWIT. 

For  a  drunken,  begging,  squalid-letter-writing  man,  called  Peck- 
snifF :  with  a  shrewish  daughter  :  haunts  thee,  Tom  ;  and  when  he 
makes  appeals  to  thee  for  cash,  reminds  thee  that  he  built  thy  for- 
tunes better  than  his  own ;  and  when  he  spends  it,  entertains  the  ale- 
house company,  with  tales  of  thine  ingratitude  and  his  munificence 
towards  thee  once  upon  a  time  ;  and  then  he  shews  his  elbows  worn 
in  holes,  and  puts  his  soleless  shoes  up,  on  a  bench,  and  begs  his 
auditors  look  there  ;  while  thou  art  comfortably  housed  and  clothed. 
All  known  to  thee,  and  yet  all  borne  with,  Tom  ! 

So,  with  a  smile  upon  thy  face,  thou  passest  gently  to  another 
measure  ;  to  a  quicker  and  more  joyful  one  ;  and  little  feet  are  used  to 
dance  about  thee  at  the  sound  ;  and  bright  young  eyes  to  glance  up 
into  thine.  And  there  is  one  slight  creature,  Tom — her  child  ;  not 
Ruth's — whom  thine  eyes  follow  in  the  romp  and  dance  :  who,  won- 
dering sometimes  to  see  thee  look  so  thoughtful,  runs  to  climb  up  on 
thy  knee,  and  put  her  cheek  to  thine  :  who  loves  thee,  Tom,  above  the 
rest,  if  that  can  be  :  and  falling  sick  once,  chose  thee  for  her  nurse  : 
and  never  knew  impatience,  Tom,  when  Thou  wert  by  her  side. 

Thou  glidest  now,  into  a  graver  air  :  an  air  devoted  to  old  friends 
and  byegone  times  ;  and  in  thy  lingering  touch  upon  the  keys,  and  the 
rich  swelling  of  the  mellow  harmony,  they  rise  before  thee.  The  spirit 
of  that  old  man  dead,  who  delighted  to  anticipate  thy  wants,  and  never 
ceased  to  honour  thee,  is  there,  among  the  rest :  repeating,  with  a  face 
composed  and  calm,  the  words  he  said  to  thee  upon  his  bed,  and  bless- 
ing thee  ! 

And  coming  from  a  garden,  Tom  :  bestrewn  with  flowers  by  children's 
hands  :  thy  sister  little  Ruth,  as  light  of  foot  and  heart  as  in  old  days, 
sits  down  beside  thee.  From  the  Present,  and  the  Past,  with  which  she 
is  so  tenderly  entwined  in  all  thy  thoughts,  thy  strain  soars  onward 
to  the  Future.  As  it  resounds  within  thee  and  without,  thy  kindling 
face  looks  on  her  with  a  Love  and  Trust,  that  knows  it  cannot  die. 
The  noble  music,  rolling  round  her  in  a  cloud  of  melody,  shuts  out 
the  grosser  prospect  of  an  earthly  parting,  and  uplifts  her,  Tom,  to 
Heaven  ! 


THE   END. 


LONDON  : 
BRADBURY  AND  EVANS,   PRINTERS,  WHJTEFRIARS. 


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