Paul grows more and more Old-fashioned, and goes Home for the
Holidays
WHEN the Midsummer vacation approached, no indecent manifestations of joy
were exhibited by the leaden-eyed young gentlemen assembled at Doctor Blimber's.
Any such violent expression as `breaking up,' would have been quite inapplicable
to that polite establishment. The young gentlemen oozed away, semi-annually, to
their own homes; but they never broke up. They would have scorned the action.
Tozer, who was constantly galled and tormented by a starched white cambric
neckerchief, which he wore at the express desire of Mrs. Tozer, his parent, who,
designing him for the Church, was of opinion that he couldn't be in that forward
state of preparation too soon--Tozer said, indeed, that choosing between two
evils, he thought he would rather stay where he was, than go home. However
inconsistent this declaration might appear with that passage in Tozer's Essay on
the subject, wherein he had observed `that the thoughts of home and all its
recollections, awakened in his mind the most pleasing emotions of anticipation
and delight,' and had also likened himself to a Roman General, flushed with a
recent victory over the Iceni, or laden with Carthaginian spoil, advancing
within a few hours' march of the Capitol, presupposed, for the purposes of the
simile, to be the dwelling-place of Mrs. Tozer, still it was very sincerely
made. For it seemed that Tozer had a dreadful uncle, who not only volunteered
examinations of him, in the holidays, on abstruse points, but twisted innocent
events and things, and wrenched them to the same fell purpose. So that if this
uncle took him to the Play, or, on a similar pretence of kindness, carried him
to see a Giant, or a Dwarf, or a Conjuror, or anything, Tozer knew he had read
up some classical allusion to the subject before-hand, and was thrown into a
state of mortal apprehension: not foreseeing where he might break out, or what
authority he might not quote against him.
As to Briggs, his father made no show of artifice about it. He never would
leave him alone. So numerous and severe were the mental trials of that
unfortunate youth in vacation time, that the friends of the family (then
resident near Bays-water, London) seldom approached the ornamental piece of
water in Kensington Gardens, without a vague expectation of seeing Master
Briggs's hat floating on the surface, and an unfinished exercise lying on the
bank. Briggs, therefore, was not at all sanguine on the subject of holidays; and
these two sharers of little Paul's bedroom were so fair a sample of the young
gentlemen in general, that the most elastic among them contemplated the arrival
of those festive periods with genteel resignation.
It was far otherwise with little Paul. The end of these first holidays was to
witness his separation from Florence, but who ever looked forward to the end of
holidays whose beginning was not yet come! Not Paul, assuredly. As the happy
time drew near, the lions and tigers climbing up the bedroom walls, became quite
tame and frolicsome. The grim sly faces in the squares and diamonds of the
floor-cloth, relaxed and peeped out at him with less wicked eyes. The grave old
clock had more of personal interest in the tone of its formal inquiry; and the
restless sea went rolling on all night, to the sounding of a melancholy
strain--yet it was pleasant too--that rose and fell with the waves, and rocked
him, as it were, to sleep.
Mr. Feeder, B.A., seemed to think that he, too, would enjoy the holidays very
much. Mr. Toots projected a life of holidays from that time forth; for, as he
regularly informed Paul every day, it was his `last half' at Doctor Blimber's,
and he was going to begin to come into his property directly.
It was perfectly understood between Paul and Mr. Toots, that they were
intimate friends, notwithstanding their distance in point of years and station.
As the vacation approached, and Mr. Toots breathed harder and stared oftener in
Paul's society, than he had done before, Paul knew that he meant he was sorry
they were going to lose sight of each other, and felt very much obliged to him
for his patronage and good opinion.
It was even understood by Doctor Blimber, Mrs. Blimber, and Miss Blimber, as
well as by the young gentlemen in general, that Toots had somehow constituted
himself protector and guardian of Dombey, and the circumstance became so
notorious, even to Mrs. Pipchin, that the good old creature cherished feelings
of bitterness and jealousy against Toots; and, in the sanctuary of her own home,
repeatedly denounced him as a `chuckle-headed noodle.' Whereas the innocent
Toots had no more idea of awakening Mrs. Pipchin's wrath, than he had of any
other definite possibility or proposition. On the contrary, he was disposed to
consider her rather a remarkable character, with many points of interest about
her. For this reason he smiled on her with so much urbanity, and asked her how
she did, so often, in the course of her visits to little Paul, that at last she
one night told him plainly, she wasn't used to it, whatever he might think; and
she could not, and she would not bear it, either from himself or any other puppy
then existing: at which unexpected acknowledgment of his civilities, Mr. Toots
was so alarmed that he secreted himself in a retired spot until she had gone.
Nor did he ever again face the doughty Mrs. Pipchin, under Doctor Blimber's
roof.
They were within two or three weeks of the holidays, when, one day, Cornelia
Blimber called Paul into her room, and said, `Dombey, I am going to send home
your analysis.'
`Thank you, Ma'am,' returned Paul.
`You know what I mean, do you, Dombey?' inquired Miss Blimber, looking hard
at him through the spectacles.
`No, Ma'am,' said Paul.
`Dombey, Dombey,' said Miss Blimber, `I begin to be afraid you are a sad boy.
When you don't know the meaning of an expression, why don't you seek for
information?'
`Mrs. Pipchin told me I wasn't to ask questions,' returned Paul.
`I must beg you not to mention Mrs. Pipchin to me, on any account, Dombey,'
returned Miss Blimber. `I couldn't think of allowing it. The course of study
here, is very far removed from anything of that sort. A repetition of such
allusions would make it necessary for me to request to hear, without a mistake,
before breakfast-time to-morrow morning, from Verbum personale down to simillima
cygno.'
`I didn't mean, Ma'am--' began little Paul.
`I must trouble you not to tell me that you didn't mean, if you please,
Dombey,' said Miss Blimber, who preserved an awful politeness in her
admonitions. `That is a line of argument I couldn't dream of permitting.'
Paul felt it safest to say nothing at all, so he only looked at Miss
Blimber's spectacles. Miss Blimber having shaken her head at him gravely,
referred to a paper lying before her.
`"Analysis of the character of P. Dombey." If my recollection serves me,'
said Miss Blimber breaking off, `the word analysis as opposed to synthesis, is
thus defined by Walker. "The resolution of an object, whether of the senses or
of the intellect, into its first elements." As opposed to synthesis, you
observe. Now you know what analysis is, Dombey.'
Dombey didn't seem to be absolutely blinded by the light let in upon his
intellect, but he made Miss Blimber a little bow.
`"Analysis,"' resumed Miss Blimber, casting her eye over the paper, `"of the
character of P. Dombey." I find that the natural capacity of Dombey is extremely
good; and that his general disposition to study may be stated in an equal ratio.
Thus, taking eight as our standard and highest number, I find these qualities in
Dombey stated each at six three-fourths!'
Miss Blimber paused to see how Paul received this news. Being undecided
whether six three-fourths meant six pounds fifteen, or sixpence three farthings,
or six foot three, or three quarters past six, or six somethings that he hadn't
learnt yet, with three unknown something elses over, Paul rubbed his hands and
looked straight at Miss Blimber. It happened to answer as well as anything else
he could have done; and Cornelia proceeded.
`"Violence two. Selfishness two. Inclination to low company, as evinced in
the case of a person named Glubb, originally seven, but since reduced.
Gentlemanly demeanour four, and improving with advancing years." Now what I
particularly wish to call your attention to, Dombey, is the general observation
at the close of this analysis.'
Paul set himself to follow it with great care.
`"It may be generally observed of Dombey,"'said Miss Blimber, reading in a
loud voice, and at every second word directing her spectacles towards the little
figure before her: `"that his abilities and inclinations are good, and that he
has made as much progress as under the circumstances could have been expected.
But it is to be lamented of this young gentleman that he is singular (what is
usually termed old-fashioned) in his character and conduct, and that without
presenting anything in either which distinctly calls for reprobation, he is
often very unlike other young gentlemen of his age and social position." Now,
Dombey,' said Miss Blimber, laying down the paper, `do you understand that?'
`I think I do, Ma'am,' said Paul.
`This analysis, you see, Dombey,'Miss Blimber continued, is going to be sent
home to your respected parent. It will naturally be very painful to him to find
that you are singular in your character and conduct. It is naturally painful to
us; for we can't like you, you know, Dombey, as well as we could wish.'
She touched the child upon a tender point. He had secretly become more and
more solicitous from day to day, as the time of his departure drew more near,
that all the house should like him. From some hidden reason, very imperfectly
understood by himself--if understood at all--he felt a gradually increasing
impulse of affection, towards almost everything and everybody in the place. He
could not bear to think that they would be quite indifferent to him when he was
gone. He wanted them to remember him kindly; and he had made it his business
even to conciliate a great hoarse shaggy dog, chained up at the back of the
house, who had previously been the terror of his life; that even he might miss
him when he was no longer there.
Little thinking that in this, he only showed again the difference between
himself and his compeers, poor tiny Paul set it forth to Miss Blimber as well as
he could, and begged her, in despite of the official analysis, to have the
goodness to try and like him. To Mrs. Blimber, who had joined them, he preferred
the same petition: and when that lady could not forbear, even in his presence,
from giving utterance to her often-repeated opinion, that he was an odd child,
Paul told her that he was sure she was quite right; that he thought it must be
his bones, but he didn't know; and that he hoped she would overlook it, for he
was fond of them all.
`Not so fond,' said Paul, with a mixture of timidity and perfect frankness,
which was one of the most peculiar and most engaging qualities of the child,
`not so fond as I am of Florence, of course; that could never be. You couldn't
expect that, could you, Ma'am?'
`Oh! the old-fashioned little soul!' cried Mrs. Blimber, in a whisper.
`But I like everybody here very much,' pursued Paul, `and I should grieve to
go away, and think that any one was glad that I was gone, or didn't care.'
Mrs. Blimber was now quite sure that Paul was the oddest child in the world;
and when she told the Doctor what had passed, the Doctor did not controvert his
wife's opinion. But he said, as he had said before, when Paul first came, that
study would do much; and he also said, as he had said on that occasion, `Bring
him on, Cornelia! Bring him on!'
Cornelia had always brought him on as vigorously as she could; and Paul had
had a hard life of it. But over and above the getting through his tasks, he had
long had another purpose always present to him, and to which he still held fast.
It was, to be a gentle, useful, quiet little fellow, always striving to secure
the love and attachment of the rest; and though he was yet often to be seen at
his old post on the stairs, or watching the waves and clouds from his solitary
window, he was oftener found, too, among the other boys, modestly rendering them
some little voluntary service. Thus it came to pass, that even among those rigid
and absorbed young anchorites, who mortified themselves beneath the roof of
Doctor Blimber, Paul was an object of general interest; a fragile little
plaything that they all liked, and that no one would have thought of treating
roughly. But he could not change his nature, or re-write the analysis; and so
they all agreed that Dombey was old-fashioned.
There were some immunities, however, attaching to the character enjoyed by no
one else. They could have better spared a newer-fashioned child, and that alone
was much. When the others only bowed to Doctor Blimber and family on retiring
for the night, Paul would stretch out his morsel of a hand, and boldly shake the
Doctor's; also Mrs. Blimber's; also Cornelia's. If anybody was to be begged off
from impending punishment, Paul was always the delegate. The weak-eyed young man
himself had once consulted him, in reference to a little breakage of glass and
china. And it was darkly rumoured that the butler, regarding him with favour
such as that stern man had never shown before to mortal boy, had sometimes
mingled porter with his table-beer to make him strong.
Over and above these extensive privileges, Paul had free right of entry to
Mr. Feeder's room, from which apartment he had twice led Mr. Toots into the open
air in a state of faintness, consequent on an unsuccessful attempt to smoke a
very blunt cigar: one of a bundle which that young gentleman had covertly
purchased on the shingle from a most desperate smuggler, who had acknowledged,
in confidence, that two hundred pounds was the price set upon his head, dead or
alive, by the Custom House. It was a snug room, Mr. Feeder's, with his bed in
another little room inside of it; and a flute, which Mr. Feeder couldn't play
yet, but was going to make a point of learning, he said, hanging up over the
fireplace. There were some books in it, too, and a fishing-rod; for Mr. Feeder
said he should certainly make a point of learning to fish, when he could find
time. Mr. Feeder had amassed, with similar intentions, a beautiful little curly
secondhand key-bugle, a chess-board and men, a Spanish Grammar, a set of
sketching materials, and a pair of boxing-gloves. The art of self-defence Mr.
Feeder said he should undoubtedly make a point of learning, as he considered it
the duty of every man to do; for it might lead to the protection of a female in
distress.
But Mr. Feeder's great possession was a large green jar of snuff, which Mr.
Toots had brought down as a present, at the close of the last vacation; and for
which he had paid a high price, as having been the genuine property of the
Prince Regent. Neither Mr. Toots not Mr. Feeder could partake of this or any
other snuff, even in the most stinted and moderate degree, without being seized
with convulsions of sneezing. Nevertheless it was their great delight to moisten
a box-full with cold tea, stir it up on a piece of parchment with a paper-knife,
and devote themselves to its consumption then and there. In the course of which
cramming of their noses, they endured surprising torments with the constancy of
martyrs: and, drinking table-beer at intervals, felt all the glories of
dissipation.
To little Paul sitting silent in their company, and by the side of his chief
patron, Mr. Toots, there was a dread charm in these reckless occasions: and when
Mr. Feeder spoke of the dark mysteries of London, and told Mr. Toots that he was
going to observe it himself closely in all its ramifications in the approaching
holidays, and for that purpose had made arrangements to board with two old
maiden ladies at Peckham, Paul regarded him as if he were the hero of some book
of travels or wild adventure, and was almost afraid of such a slashing person.
Going into this room one evening, when the holidays were very near, Paul
found Mr. Feeder filling up the blanks in some printed letters, while some
others, already filled up and strewn before him, were being folded and sealed by
Mr. Toots. Mr. Feeder said, `Aha, Dombey, there you are, are you?'--for they
were always kind to him, and glad to see him--and then said, tossing one of the
letters towards him, `And there you are, too, Dombey. That's yours.'
`Mine, Sir?' said Paul.
`Your invitation,' returned Mr. Feeder.
Paul, looking at it, found, in copper-plate print, with the exception of his
own name and the date, which were in Mr. Feeder's Penmanship, that Doctor and
Mrs. Blimber requested the pleasure of Mr. P. Dombey's company at an early party
on Wednesday Evening the Seventeenth Instant; and that the hour was half-past
seven o'clock; and that the object was Quadrilles. Mr. Toots also showed him, by
holding up a companion sheet of paper, that Doctor and Mrs. Blimber requested
the pleasure of Mr. Toots's company at an early party on Wednesday Evening the
Seventeenth Instant, when the hour was half-past seven o'clock, and when the
object was Quadrilles. He also found, on glancing at the table where Mr. Feeder
sat, that the pleasure of Mr. Briggs's company, and of Mr. Tozer's company, and
of every young gentleman's company, was requested by Doctor and Mrs. Blimber on
the same genteel occasion.
Mr. Feeder then told him, to his great joy, that his sister was invited, and
that it was a half-yearly event, and that, as the holidays began that day, he
could go away with his sister after the party, if he liked, which Paul
interrupted him to say he would like, very much. Mr. Feeder then gave him to
understand that he would be expected to inform Doctor and Mrs. Blimber, in
superfine small-hand, that Mr. P. Dombey would be happy to have the honour of
waiting on them, in accordance with their polite invitation. Lastly, Mr. Feeder
said, he had better not refer to the festive occasion, in the hearing of Doctor
and Mrs. Blimber; as these preliminaries, and the whole of the arrangements,
were conducted on principles of classicality and high breeding; and that Doctor
and Mrs. Blimber on the one hand, and the young gentlemen on the other, were
supposed, in their scholastic capacities, not to have the least idea of what was
in the wind.
Paul thanked Mr. Feeder for these hints, and pocketing his invitation, sat
down on a stool by the side of Mr. Toots as usual. But Paul's head, which had
long been ailing more or less, and was sometimes very heavy and painful, felt so
uneasy that night, that he was obliged to support it on his hand. And yet it
dropped so, that by little and little it sunk on Mr. Toots's knee, and rested
there, as if it had no care to be ever lifted up again.
That was no reason why he should be deaf, but he must have been, he thought,
for, by and by, he heard Mr. Feeder calling in his ear, and gently shaking him
to rouse his attention. And when he raised his head, quite scared, and looked
about him, he found that Doctor Blimber had come into the room; and that the
window was open, and that his forehead was wet with sprinkled water; though how
all this had been done without his knowledge, was very curious indeed.
`Ah! Come, come! That's well! How is my little friend now?' said Doctor
Blimber, encouragingly.
`Oh, quite well, thank you, Sir,' said Paul.
But there seemed to be something the matter with the floor, for he couldn't
stand upon it steadily; and with the walls too, for they were inclined to turn
round and round, and could only be stopped by being looked at very hard indeed.
Mr. Toots's head had the appearance of being at once bigger and farther off than
was quite natural: and when he took Paul in his arms, to carry him up stairs,
Paul observed with astonishment that the door was in quite a different place
from that in which he had expected to find it, and almost thought, at first,
that Mr. Toots was going to walk straight up the chimney.
It was very kind of Mr. Toots to carry him to the top of the house so
tenderly; and Paul told him that it was. But Mr. Toots said he would do a great
deal more than that, if he could; and indeed he did more as it was: for he
helped Paul to undress, and helped him to bed, in the kindest manner possible,
and then sat down by the bedside and chuckled very much; while Mr. Feeder, B.A.,
leaning over the bottom of the bedstead, set all the little bristles on his head
bolt upright with his bony hands, and then made believe to spar at Paul with
great science, on account of his being all right again, which was so uncommonly
facetious, and kind too in Mr. Feeder, that Paul, not being able to make up his
mind whether it was best to laugh or cry at him, did both at once.
How Mr. Toots melted away, and Mr. Feeder changed into Mrs. Pipchin, Paul
never thought of asking; neither was he at all curious to know; but when he saw
Mrs. Pipchin standing at the bottom of the bed, instead of Mr. Feeder, he cried
out, `Mrs. Pipchin, don't tell Florence!'
`Don't tell Florence what, my little Paul?' said Mrs. Pipchin, coming round
to the bedside, and sitting down in the chair.
`About me,' said Paul.
`No, no,' said Mrs. Pipchin.
`What do you think I mean to do when I grow up, Mrs. Pipchin?' inquired Paul,
turning his face towards her on his pillow, and resting his chin wistfully on
his folded hands.
Mrs. Pipchin couldn't guess.
`I mean,' said Paul, `to put my money all together in one Bank, never try to
get any more, go away into the country with my darling Florence, have a
beautiful garden, fields, and woods, and live there with her all my life!'
`Indeed!' cried Mrs. Pipchin.
`Yes,' said Paul. `That's what I mean to do, when I--' He stopped, and
pondered for a moment.
Mrs. Pipchin's grey eye scanned his thoughtful face.
`If I grow up,' said Paul. Then he went on immediately to tell Mrs. Pipchin
all about the party, about Florence's invitation, about the pride he would have
in the admiration that would be felt for her by all the boys, about their being
so kind to him and fond of him, about his being so fond of them, and about his
being so glad of it. Then he told Mrs. Pipchin about the analysis, and about his
being certainly old-fashioned, and took Mrs. Pipchin's opinion on that point,
and whether she knew why it was, and what it meant. Mrs. Pipchin denied the fact
altogether, as the shortest way of getting out of the difficulty; but Paul was
far from satisfied with that reply, and looked so searchingly at Mrs. Pipchin
for a truer answer, that she was obliged to get up and look out of the window to
avoid his eyes.
There was a certain calm Apothecary, who attended at the establishment when
any of the young gentlemen were ill, and somehow he got into the room and
appeared at the bedside, with Mrs. Blimber. How they came there, or how long
they had been there, Paul didn't know; but when he saw them, he sat up in bed,
and answered all the Apothecary's questions at full length, and whispered to him
that Florence was not to know anything about it, if he pleased, and that he had
set his mind upon her coming to the party. He was very chatty with the
Apothecary, and they parted excellent friends. Lying down again with his eyes
shut, he heard the Apothecary say, out of the room and quite a long way off--or
he dreamed it--that there was a want of vital power (what was that, Paul
wondered) and great constitutional weakness. That as the little fellow had set
his heart on parting with his school-mates on the seventeenth, it would be
better to indulge the fancy if he grew no worse. That he was glad to hear from
Mrs. Pipchin, that the little fellow would go to his friends in London on the
eighteenth. That he would write to Mr. Dombey, when he should have gained a
better knowledge of the case, and before that day. That there was no immediate
cause for--what? Paul lost that word. And that the little fellow had a fine
mind, but was an old-fashioned boy.
What old fashion could that be, Paul wondered with a palpitating heart, that
was so visibly expressed in him; so plainly seen by so many people!
He could neither make it out, not trouble himself long with the effort. Mrs.
Pipchin was again beside him, if she had ever been away (he thought she had gone
out with the Doctor, but it was all a dream perhaps), and presently a bottle and
glass got into her hands magically, and she poured out the contents for him.
After that, he had some real good jelly, which Mrs. Blimber brought to him
herself; and then he was so well, that Mrs. Pipchin went home, at his urgent
solicitation, and Briggs and Tozer came to bed. Poor Briggs grumbled terribly
about his own analysis, which could hardly have discomposed him more if it had
been a chemical process; but he was very good to Paul, and so was Tozer, and so
were all the rest, for they everyone looked in before going to bed, and said,
`How are you now, Dombey?' `Cheer up, little Dombey!' and so forth. After Briggs
had got into bed, he lay awake for a long time, still bemoaning his analysis,
and saying he knew it was all wrong, and they couldn't have analysed a murderer
worse, and how would Doctor Blimber like it if his pocket-money depended on it?
It was very easy, Briggs said, to make a galley-slave of a boy all the
half-year, and then score him up idle; and to crib two dinners a-week out of his
board, and then score him up greedy: but that wasn't going to be submitted to,
he believed, was it? Oh! Ah!
Before the weak-eyed young man performed on the gong next morning, he came up
stairs to Paul and told him he was to lie still, which Paul very gladly did.
Mrs. Pipchin reappeared a little before the Apothecary, and a little after the
good young woman whom Paul had seen cleaning the stove on that first morning
(how long ago it seemed now!) had brought him his breakfast. There was another
consultation a long way off, or else Paul dreamed it again; and then the
Apothecary, coming back with Doctor and Mrs. Blimber, said:
`Yes, I think, Doctor Blimber, we may release this young gentleman from his
books just now; the vacation being so very near at hand.'
`By all means,' said Doctor Blimber. `My love, you will inform Cornelia, if
you please.'
`Assuredly,' said Mrs. Blimber.
The Apothecary bending down, looked closely into Paul's eyes, and felt his
head, and his pulse, and his heart, with so much interest and care, that Paul
said, `Thank you, sir.'
`Our little friend,' observed Doctor Blimber, `has never complained.'
`Oh no!' replied the Apothecary. `He was not likely to complain.'
`You find him greatly better?' said Doctor Blimber.
`Oh! he is greatly better, Sir,' returned the Apothecary.
Paul had begun to speculate, in his own odd way, on the subject that might
occupy the Apothecary's mind just at that moment; so musingly had he answered
the two questions of Doctor Blimber. But the Apothecary happening to meet his
little patient's eyes, as the latter set off on that mental expedition, and
coming instantly out of his abstraction with a cheerful smile, Paul smiled in
return and abandoned it.
He lay in bed all that day, dozing and dreaming, and looking at Mr. Toots:
but got up on the next, and went down stairs. Lo and behold, there was something
the matter with the great clock; and a workman on a pair of steps had taken its
face off, and was poking instruments into the works by the light of a candle!
This was a great event for Paul, who sat down on the bottom stair, and watched
the operation attentively: now and then glancing at the clock face, leaning all
askew, against the wall hard by, and feeling a little confused by a suspicion
that it was ogling him.
The workman on the steps was very civil; and as he said, when he observed
Paul, `How do you do, Sir?' Paul got into conversation with him, and told him he
hadn't been quite well lately. The ice being thus broken, Paul asked him a
multitude of questions about chimes and clocks: as, whether people watched up in
the lonely church steeples by night to make them strike, and how the bells were
rung when people dies, and whether those were different bells from wedding
bells, or only sounded dismal in the fancies of the living. Finding that his new
acquaintance was not very well informed on the subject of the Curfew Bell of
ancient days, Paul gave him an account of that institution; and also asked him,
as a practical man, what he thought about King Alfred's idea of measuring time
by the burning of candles; to which the workman replied, that he thought it
would be the ruin of the clock trade if it was to come up again. In fine, Paul
looked on, until the clock had quite recovered its familiar aspect, and resumed
its sedate inquiry: when the workman, putting away his tools in a long basket,
bade him good day, and went away. Though not before he had whispered something,
on the door-mat, to the footman, in which there was the phrase
`old-fashioned'--for Paul heard it.
What could that old fashion be, that seemed to make the people sorry! what
could it be!
Having nothing to learn now, he thought of this frequently; though not so
often as he might have done, if he had had fewer things to think of. But he had
a great many; and was always thinking, all day long.
First, there was Florence coming to the party. Florence would see that the
boys were fond of him; and that would make her happy. This was his great theme.
Let Florence once be sure that they were gentle and good to him, and that he had
become a little favourite among them, and then she would always think of the
time he had passed there, without being very sorry. Florence might be all the
happier too for that perhaps, when he came back.
When he came back! Fifty times a day, his noiseless little feet went up the
stairs to his own room, as he collected every book and scrap, and trifle that
belonged to him, and put them all together there, down to the minutest thing,
for taking home!There was no shade of coming back on little Paul; no preparation
for it, or other reference to it, grew out of anything he thought or did, except
this slight one in connexion with his sister. On the contrary, he had to think
of everything familiar to him, in his contemplative moods and in his wanderings
about the house, as being to be parted with; and hence the many things he had to
think of, all day long.
He had to peep into those rooms up-stairs, and think how solitary they would
be when he was gone, and wonder through how many silent days, weeks, months, and
years, they would continue just as grave and undisturbed. He had to think--would
any other child (old-fashioned, like himself) stray there at any time, to whom
the same grotesque distortions of pattern and furniture would manifest
themselves; and would anybody tell that boy of little Dombey, who had been there
once?
He had to think of a portrait on the stairs, which always looked earnestly
after him as he went away, eyeing it over his shoulder: and which, when he
passed it in the company of any one, still seemed to gaze at him, and not at his
companion. He had much to think of, in association with a print that hung up in
another place, where, in the centre of a wondering group, one figure that he
knew, a figure with a light about its head--benignant, mild, and merciful--stood
pointing upward.
At his own bedroom window, there were crowds of thoughts that mixed with
these, and came on, one upon another, like the rolling waves. Where those wild
birds lived, that were always hovering out at sea in troubled weather; where the
clouds rose and first began; whence the wind issued on its rushing flight, and
where it stopped; whether the spot where he and Florence had so often sat, and
watched, and talked about these things, could ever be exactly as it used to be
without them; whether it could ever be the same to Florence, if he were in some
distant place, and she were sitting there alone.
He had to think, too, of Mr. Toots, and Mr. Feeder, B.A; of all the boys; and
of Doctor Blimber, Mrs. Blimber, and Miss Blimber; of home, and of his aunt and
Miss Tox; of his father, Dombey and Son, Walter with the poor old uncle who had
got the money he wanted, and that gruff-voiced Captain with the iron hand.
Besides all this, he had a number of little visits to pay, in the course of the
day; to the schoolroom, to Doctor Blimber's study, to Mrs. Blimber's private a
apartment, to Miss Blimber's, and to the dog. For he was free of the whole house
now, to range it as he chose; and, in his desire to part with everybody on
affectionate terms, he attended, in his way, to them all. Sometimes he found
places in books for Briggs, who was always losing them; sometimes he looked up
words in dictionaries for other young gentlemen who were in extremity; sometimes
he held skeins of silk for Mrs. Blimber to wind; sometimes he put Cornelia's
desk to rights; sometimes he would even creep into the Doctor's study, and,
sitting on the carpet near his learned feet, turn the globes softly, and go
round the world, or take a flight among the far-off stars.
In those days immediately before the holidays, in short, when the other young
gentlemen were labouring for dear life through a general resumption of the
studies of the whole half-year, Paul was such a privileged pupil as had never
been seen in that house before. He could hardly believe it himself; but his
liberty lasted from hour to hour, and from day to day; and little Dombey was
caressed by everyone. Doctor Blimber was so particular about him, that he
requested Johnson to retire from the dinner-table one day, for having
thoughtlessly spoken to him as `poor little Dombey;' which Paul thought rather
hard and severe, though he had flushed at the moment, and wondered why Johnson
should pity him. It was the more questionable justice, Paul thought, in the
Doctor, from his having certainly overheard that great authority give his assent
on the previous evening, to the proposition (stated by Mrs. Blimber) that poor
dear little Dombey was more old-fashioned than ever. And now it was that Paul
began to think it must surely be old-fashioned to be very thin, and light, and
easily tired, and soon disposed to lie down anywhere and rest; for he couldn't
help feeling that these were more and more his habits every day.
At last the party-day arrived; and Doctor Blimber said at breakfast,
`Gentlemen, we will resume our studies on the twenty-fifth of next month.' Mr.
Toots immediately threw off his allegiance, and put on his ring: and mentioning
the Doctor in casual conversation shortly afterwards, spoke of him as `Blimber!'
This act of freedom inspired the older pupils with admiration and envy; but the
younger spirits were appalled, and seemed to marvel that no beam fell down and
crushed him.
Not the least allusion was made to the ceremonies of the evening, either at
breakfast or at dinner; but there was a bustle in the house all day, and in the
course of his perambulations, Paul made acquaintance with various strange
benches and candlesticks, and met a harp in a green greatcoat standing on the
landing outside the drawing-room door. There was something queer, too, about
Mrs. Blimber's head at dinner-time, as if she had screwed her hair up too tight;
and though Miss Blimber showed a graceful bunch of plaited hair on each temple,
she seemed to have her own little curls in paper underneath, and in a play-bill
too: for Paul read `Theatre Royal' over one of her sparkling spectacles, and
`Brighton' over the other.
There was a grand array of white waistcoats and cravats in the young
gentlemen's bedrooms as evening approached; and such a smell of singed hair,
that Doctor Blimber sent up the footman with his compliments, and wished to know
if the house was on fire. But it was only the hairdresser curling the young
gentlemen, and over-heating his tongs in the ardour of business.
When Paul was dressed--which was very soon done, for he felt unwell and
drowsy, and was not able to stand about it very long--he went down into the
drawing-room; where he found Doctor Blimber pacing up and down the room full
dressed, but with a dignified and unconcerned demeanour, as if he thought it
barely possible that one or two people might drop in by and by. Shortly
afterwards, Mrs. Blimber appeared, looking lovely, Paul thought; and attired in
such a number of skirts that it was quite an excursion to walk round her. Miss
Blimber came down soon after her mama; a little squeezed in appearance, but very
charming.
Mr. Toots and Mr. Feeder were the next arrivals. Each of these gentlemen
brought his hat in his hand, as if he lived somewhere else; and when they were
announced by the butler, Doctor Blimber said, `Aye, aye, aye! God bless my
soul!' and seemed extremely glad to see them. Mr. Toots was one blaze of
jewellery and buttons: and he felt the circumstance so strongly, that when he
had shaken hands with the Doctor, and had bowed to Mrs. Blimber and Miss
Blimber, he took Paul aside, and said, `What do you think of this, Dombey?'
But notwithstanding this modest confidence in himself, Mr. Toots appeared to
be involved in a good deal of uncertainty whether, on the whole, it was
judicious to button the bottom button of his waistcoat, and whether, on a calm
revision of all the circumstances, it was best to wear his wristbands turned up
or turned down. Observing that Mr. Feeder's were turned up, Mr. Toots turned his
up; but the wristbands of the next arrival being turned down, Mr. Toots turned
his down. The differences in point of waistcoat buttoning, not only at the
bottom, but at the top too, became so numerous and complicated as the arrivals
thickened, that Mr. Toots was continually fingering that article of dress, as if
he were performing on some instrument; and appeared to find the incessant
execution it demanded, quite bewildering.
All the young gentlemen, tightly cravatted, curled, and pumped, and with
their best hats in their hands, having been at different times announced and
introduced, Mr. Baps, the dancing-master, came, accompanied by Mrs. Baps, to
whom Mrs. Blimber was extremely kind and condescending. Mr. Baps was a very
gentleman, with a slow and measured manner of speaking; and before he had stood
under the lamp five minutes, he began to talk to Toots (who had been silently
comparing pumps with him) about what you were to do with your raw materials when
they came into your ports in return for your drain of gold. Mr. Toots, to whom
the question seemed perplexing, suggested `Cook 'em.' But Mr. Baps did not
appear to think that would do.
Paul now slipped away from the cushioned corner of a sofa, which had been his
post of observation, and went down stairs into the tea-room to be ready for
Florence, whom he had not seen for nearly a fortnight, as he had remained at
Doctor Blimber's on the previous Saturday and Sunday, lest he should take cold.
Presently she came: looking so beautiful in her simple ball dress, with her
fresh flowers in her hand, that when she knelt down on the ground to take Paul
round the neck and kiss him (for there was no one there, but his friend and
another young woman waiting to serve out the tea), he could hardly make up his
mind to let her go again, or to take away her bright and loving eyes from his
face.
`But what is the matter, Floy?' asked Paul, almost sure that he saw a tear
there.
`Nothing, darling; nothing,' returned Florence.
Paul touched her cheek gently with his finger--and it was a tear! `Why,
Floy!' said he.
`We'll go home together, and I'll nurse you, love,' said Florence.
`Nurse me!' echoed Paul.
Paul couldn't understand what that had to do with it, not why the two young
women looked on so seriously, nor why Florence turned away her face for a
moment, and then turned it back, lighted up again with smiles.
`Floy,' said Paul, holding a ringlet of her dark hair in his hand. `Tell me,
dear. Do you think I have grown old-fashioned?'
His sister laughed, and fondled him, and told him `No.'
`Because I know they say so,' returned Paul, `and I want to know what they
mean, Floy.'
But a loud double knock coming at the door, and Florence hurrying to the
table, there was no more said between them. Paul wondered again when he saw his
friend whisper to Florence, as if she were comforting her; but a new arrival put
that out of his head speedily.
It was Sir Barnet Skettles, Lady Skettles, and Master Skettles. Master
Skettles was to be a new boy after the vacation, and Fame had been busy, in Mr.
Feeder's room, with his father, who was in the House of Commons, and of whom Mr.
Feeder had said that when he did catch the Speaker's eye (which he had been
expected to do for three or four years), it was anticipated that he would rather
touch up the Radicals.
`And what room is this now, for instance?' said Lady Skettles to Paul's
friend, 'Melia.
`Doctor Blimber's study, ma'am,' was the reply.
Lady Skettles took a panoramic survey of it through her glass, and said to
Sir Barnet Skettles, with a nod of approval, `Very good.' Sir Barnet assented,
but Master Skettles looked suspicious and doubtful.
`And this little creature, now,' said Lady Skettles, turning to Paul. `Is he
one of the--'
`Young gentlemen, ma'am; yes, ma'am,' said Paul's friend.
`And what is your name, my pale child?' said Lady Skettles.
`Dombey,' answered Paul.
Sir Barnet Skettles immediately interposed, and said that he had had the
honour of meeting Paul's father at a public dinner, and that he hoped he was
very well. Then Paul heard him say to Lady Skettles, `City--very rich--most
respectable--Doctor mentioned it.' And then he said to Paul, `Will you tell your
good papa that Sir Barnet Skettles rejoiced to hear that he was very well, and
sent him his best compliments?'
`Yes, Sir,' answered Paul.
`That is my brave boy,' said Sir Barnet Skettles. `Barnet,' to Master
Skettles, who was revenging himself for the studies to come, on the plum-cake,
`this is a young gentleman you ought to know. This is a young gentleman you may
know, Barnet,' said Sir Barnet Skettles, with an emphasis on the permission.
`What eyes! What hair! What a lovely face!' exclaimed Lady Skettles softly,
as she looked at Florence through her glass.
`My sister,' said Paul, presenting her.
The satisfaction of the Skettleses was now complete. And as Lady Skettles had
conceived, at first sight, a liking for Paul, they all went up stairs together:
Sir Barnet Skettles taking care of Florence, and young Barnet following.
Young Barnet did not remain long in the background after they had reached the
drawing-room, for Dr. Blimber had him out in no time, dancing with Florence. He
did not appear to Paul to be particularly happy, or particularly anything but
sulky, or to care much what he was about; but as Paul heard Lady Skettles say to
Mrs. Blimber, while she beat time with her fan, that her dear boy was evidently
smitten to death by that angel of a child, Miss Dombey, it would seem that
Skettles Junior was in a state of bliss, without showing it.
Little Paul thought it a singular coincidence that nobody had occupied his
place among the pillows; and that when he came into the room again, they should
all make way for him to go back to it, remembering it was his. Nobody stood
before him either, when they observed that he liked to see Florence dancing, but
they left the space in front quite clear, so that he might follow her with his
eyes. They were so kind too, even the strangers, of whom there were soon a great
many, that they came and spoke to him every now and then, and asked him how he
was, and if his head ached, and whether he was tired. He was very much obliged
to them for all their kindness and attention, and reclining propped up in his
corner, with Mrs. Blimber and Lady Skettles on the same sofa, and Florence
coming and sitting by his side as soon as every dance was ended, he looked on
very happily indeed.
Florence would have sat by him all night, and would not have danced at all of
her own accord, but Paul made her, by telling her how much it pleased him. And
he told her the truth, too; for his small heart swelled, and his face glowed,
when he saw how much they all admired her, and how she was the beautiful little
rosebud of the room.
From his nest among the pillows, Paul could see and hear almost everything
that passed, as if the whole were being done for his amusement. Among other
little incidents that the observed, he observed Mr. Baps the dancing-master get
into conversation with Sir Barnet Skettles, and very soon ask him, as he had
asked Mr. Toots, what you were to do with your raw materials, when they came
into your ports in return for your drain of gold--which was such a mystery to
Paul that he was quite desirous to know what ought to be done with them. Sir
Barnet Skettles had much to say upon the question, and said it; but it did not
appear to solve the question, for Mr. Baps retorted, Yes, but supposing Russia
stepped in with her tallows; which struck Sir Barnet almost dumb, for he could
only shake his head after that, and say, Why then you must fall back upon your
cottons, he supposed.
Sir Barnet Skettles looked after Mr. Baps when he went to cheer up Mrs. Baps
(who, being quite deserted, was pretending to look over the music-book of the
gentleman who played the harp), as if he thought him a remarkable kind of man;
and shortly afterwards he said so in those words to Doctor Blimber, and inquired
if he might take the liberty of asking who he was, and whether he had ever been
in the Board of Trade. Doctor Blimber answered no, he believed not; and that in
fact he was a Professor of--
`Of something connected with statistics, I'll swear?' observed Sir Barnet
Skettles.
`Why no, Sir Barnet,' replied Doctor Blimber, rubbing his chin. No, not
exactly.'
`Figures of some sort, I would venture a bet,' said Sir Barnet Skettles.
`Why yes,' said Doctor Blimber,' `yes, but not of that sort. Mr. Baps is a
very worthy sort of man, Sir Barnet, and--in fact he's our professor of
dancing.'
Paul was amazed to see that this piece of information quite altered Sir
Barnet Skettles' opinion of Mr. Baps, and that Sir Barnet flew into a perfect
rage, and glowered at Mr. Baps over on the other side of the room. He even went
so far as to D Mr. Baps to Lady Skettles, in telling her what had happened, and
to say that it was like his most con-sum-mate and confoun-ded impudence.
There was another thing that Paul observed. Mr. Feeder, after imbibing
several custard-cups of negus, began to enjoy himself. The dancing in general
was ceremonious, and the music rather solemn--a little like church music in
fact--but after the custard--cups, Mr. Feeder told Mr. Toots that he was going
to throw a little spirit into the thing. After that, Mr. Feeder not only began
to dance as if he meant dancing and nothing else, but secretly to stimulate the
music to perform wild tunes. Further, he became particular in his attentions to
the ladies; and dancing with Miss Blimber, whispered to her--whispered to
her!--though not so softly but that Paul heard him say this remarkable poetry,
`Had I a heart for falsehood framed, I ne'er could injure You!'
This Paul heard him repeat to young ladies in succession. Well might Mr.
Feeder say to Mr. Toots, that he was afraid he should be the worse for it
to-morrow!
Mrs. Blimber was a little alarmed by this--comparatively speaking--profligate
behaviour; and especially by the alteration in the character of the music,
which, beginning to comprehend low melodies that were popular in the streets,
might not unnaturally be supposed to give offence to Lady Skettles. But Lady
Skettles was so very kind as to beg Mrs. Blimber not to mention it; and to
receive her explanation that Mr. Feeder's spirits sometimes betrayed him into
excesses on these occasions, with the greatest courtesy and politeness;
observing, that he seemed a very nice sort of person for his situation, and that
she particularly liked the unassuming style of his hair--which (as already
hinted) was about a quarter of an inch long.
Once, when there was a pause in the dancing, Lady Skettles told Paul that he
seemed very fond of music. Paul replied, That he was; and if she was too, she
ought to hear his sister, Florence, sing. Lady Skettles presently discovered
that she was dying with anxiety to have that gratification; and though Florence
was at first very much frightened at being asked to sing before so many people,
and begged earnestly to be excused, yet, on Paul calling her to him, and saying,
`Do, Floy!Please! For me, my dear!' she went straight to the piano, and began.
When they all drew a little away, that Paul might see her; and when he saw her
sitting there all alone, so young, and good, and beautiful, and kind to him; and
heard her thrilling voice, so natural and sweet, and such a golden link between
him and all his life's love and happiness, rising out of the silence; he turned
his face away, and hid his tears. Not, as he told them when they spoke to him,
not that the music was too plaintive or too sorrowful, but it was so dear to
him.
They all loved Florence! How could they help it! Paul had known beforehand
that they must and would; and sitting in his cushioned corner, with calmly
folded hands, and one leg loosely doubled under him, few would have thought what
triumph and delight expanded his childish bosom while he watched her, or what a
sweet tranquillity he felt. Lavish encomiums on `Dombey's sister' reached his
ears from all the boys: admiration of the self-possessed and modest little
beauty was on every lip: reports of her intelligence and accomplishments floated
past him, constantly; and, as if borne in upon the air of the summer night,
there was a half-intelligible sentiment diffused around, referring to Florence
and himself, and breathing sympathy for both, that soothed and touched him.
He did not know why. For all that the child observed, and felt, and thought,
that night--the present and the absent; what was then and what had been--were
blended like the colours in the rainbow, or in the plumage of rich birds when
the sun is shining on them, or in the softening sky when the same sun is
setting. The many things he had had to think of lately, passed before him in the
music; not as claiming his attention over again, or as likely evermore to occupy
it, but as peacefully disposed of and gone. A solitary window, gazed through
years ago, looked out upon an ocean, miles and miles away; upon its waters,
fancies, busy with him only yesterday, were hushed and lulled to rest like
broken waves. The same mysterious murmur he had wondered at, when lying on his
couch upon the beach, he thought he still heard sounding through his sister's
song, and through the hum of voices, and the tread of feet, and having some part
in the faces flitting by, and even in the heavy gentleness of Mr. Toots, who
frequently came up to shake him by the hand. Through the universal kindness he
still thought he heard it, speaking to him; and even his oldfashioned reputation
seemed to be allied to it, he knew not how. Thus little Paul sat musing,
listening, looking on, and dreaming; and was very happy.
Until the time arrived for taking leave: and then, indeed, there was a
sensation in the party. Sir Barnet Skettles brought up Skettles Junior to shake
hands with him, and asked him if he would remember to tell his good papa, with
his best compliments, that he, Sir Barnet Skettles, had said he hoped the two
young gentlemen would become intimately acquainted. Lady Skettles kissed him,
and parted his hair upon his brow, and held him in her arms; and even Mrs.
Baps--poor Mrs. Baps! Paul was glad of that--came over from beside the
music-book of the gentleman who played the harp, and took leave of him quite as
heartily as anybody in the room.
`Good-bye, Doctor Blimber,' said Paul, stretching out his hand.
`Good-bye, my little friend,' returned the Doctor.
`I'm very much obliged to you, Sir,' said Paul, looking innocently up into
his awful face. `Ask them to take care of Diogenes, if you please.'
Diogenes was the dog: who had never in his life received a friend into his
confidence, before Paul. The Doctor promised that every attention should be paid
to Diogenes in Paul's absence, and Paul having again thanked him, and shaken
hands with him, bade adieu to Mrs. Blimber and Cornelia with such heartfelt
earnestness that Mrs. Blimber forgot from that moment to mention Cicero to Lady
Skettles, though she had fully intended it all the evening. Cornelia, taking
both Paul's hands in hers, said, `Dombey, Dombey, you have always been my
favourite pupil. God bless you!' And it showed, Paul thought, how easily one
might do injustice to a person; for Miss Blimber meant it--though she was a
Forcer.
A buzz then went round among the young gentlemen, of `Dombey's going!'
`Little Dombey's going!' and there was a general move after Paul and Florence
down the staircase and into the hall, in which the whole Blimber family were
included. Such a circumstance, Mr. Feeder said aloud, as had never happened in
the case of any former young gentleman within his experience; but it would be
difficult to say if this were sober fact or custard-cups. The servants, with the
butler at their head, had all an interest in seeing Little Dombey go; and even
the weak-eyed young man, taking out his books and trunks to the coach that was
to carry him and Florence to Mrs. Pipchin's for the night, melted visibly.
Not even the influence of the softer passion on the young gentlemen--and they
all, to a boy, doated on Florence--could restrain them from taking quite a noisy
leave of Paul; waving hats after him, pressing downstairs to shake hands with
him, crying individually `Dombey, don't forget me!' and indulging in many such
ebullitions of feeling, uncommon among those young Chesterfields. Paul whispered
Florence, as she wrapped him up before the door was opened, Did she hear them?
Would she ever forget it? Was she glad to know it? And a lively delight was in
his eyes as he spoke to her.
Once, for a last look, he turned and gazed upon the faces thus addressed to
him, surprised to see how shining and how bright, and numerous they were, and
how they were all piled and heaped up, as faces are at crowded theatres. They
swam before him as he looked, like faces in an agitated glass; and next moment
he was in the dark coach outside, holding close to Florence. From that time,
whenever he thought of Doctor Blimber's, it came back as he had seen it in this
last view; and it never seemed to be a real place again, but always a dream,
full of eyes.
This was not quite the last of Doctor Blimber's, however. There was something
else. There was Mr. Toots. Who, unexpectedly letting down one of the
coach-windows, and looking in, said, with a most egregious chuckle, `Is Dombey
there?' and immediately put it up again, without waiting for an answer. Nor was
this quite the last of Mr. Toots, even; for before the coachman could drive off,
he as suddenly let down the other window, and looking in with a precisely
similar chuckle, said in a precisely similar tone of voice, `Is Dombey there?'
and disappeared precisely as before.
How Florence laughed! Paul often remembered it, and laughed himself whenever
he did so.
But there was much, soon afterwards--next day, and after that--which Paul
could only recollect confusedly. As, why they stayed at Mrs. Pipchin's days and
nights, instead of going home; why he lay in bed, with Florence sitting by his
side; whether that had been his father in the room, or only a tall shadow on the
wall; whether he had heard his doctor say, of some one, that if they had removed
him before the occasion on which he had built up fancies, strong in proportion
to his own weakness, it was very possible he might have pined away.
He could not even remember whether he had often said to Florence, `Oh Floy,
take me home, and never leave me!' but he thought he had. He fancied sometimes
he had heard himself repeating, `Take me home, Floy! take me home!'
But he could remember, when he got home, and was carried up the
well-remembered stairs, that there had been the rumbling of a coach for many
hours together, while he lay upon the seat, with Florence still beside him, and
old Mrs. Pipchin sitting opposite. He remembered his old bed too, when they laid
him down in it: his aunt, Miss Tox, and Susan: but there was something else, and
recent too, that still perplexed him.
`I want to speak to Florence, if you please,' he said. `To Florence by
herself, for a moment!'
She bent down over him, and the others stood away.
`Floy, my pet, wasn't that Papa in the hall, when they brought me from the
coach?'
`Yes, dear.'
`He didn't cry, and go into his room, Floy, did he, when he saw me coming
in?'
Florence shook her head, and pressed her lips against his cheek.
`I'm very glad he didn't cry,' said little Paul. `I thought he did. Don't
tell them that I asked.'
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