Upon that establishment of state, the Merdle establishment in
Harley Street, Cavendish Square, there was the shadow of no more common wall
than the fronts of other establishments of state on the opposite side of the
street. Like unexceptionable Society, the opposing rows of houses in Harley
Street were very grim with one another. Indeed, the mansions and their
inhabitants were so much alike in that respect, that the people were often to be
found drawn up on opposite sides of dinner-tables, in the shade of their own
loftiness, staring at the other side of the way with the dullness of the houses.
Everybody knows how like the street the two dinner-rows of people who take
their stand by the street will be. The expressionless uniform twenty houses, all
to be knocked at and rung at in the same form, all approachable by the same dull
steps, all fended off by the same pattern of railing, all with the same
impracticable fire- escapes, the same inconvenient fixtures in their heads, and
everything without exception to be taken at a high valuation--who has not dined
with these? The house so drearily out of repair, the occasional bow-window, the
stuccoed house, the newly-fronted house, the corner house with nothing but
angular rooms, the house with the blinds always down, the house with the
hatchment always up, the house where the collector has called for one quarter of
an Idea, and found nobody at home--who has not dined with these? The house that
nobody will take, and is to be had a bargain--who does not know her? The showy
house that was taken for life by the disappointed gentleman, and which does not
suit him at all--who is unacquainted with that haunted habitation?
Harley Street, Cavendish Square, was more than aware of Mr and Mrs Merdle.
Intruders there were in Harley Street, of whom it was not aware; but Mr and Mrs
Merdle it delighted to honour. Society was aware of Mr and Mrs Merdle. Society
had said 'Let us license them; let us know them.'
Mr Merdle was immensely rich; a man of prodigious enterprise; a Midas without
the ears, who turned all he touched to gold. He was in everything good, from
banking to building. He was in Parliament, of course. He was in the City,
necessarily. He was Chairman of this, Trustee of that, President of the other.
The weightiest of men had said to projectors, 'Now, what name have you got? Have
you got Merdle?' And, the reply being in the negative, had said, 'Then I won't
look at you.'
This great and fortunate man had provided that extensive bosom which required
so much room to be unfeeling enough in, with a nest of crimson and gold some
fifteen years before. It was not a bosom to repose upon, but it was a capital
bosom to hang jewels upon. Mr Merdle wanted something to hang jewels upon, and
he bought it for the purpose. Storr and Mortimer might have married on the same
speculation.
Like all his other speculations, it was sound and successful. The jewels
showed to the richest advantage. The bosom moving in Society with the jewels
displayed upon it, attracted general admiration. Society approving, Mr Merdle
was satisfied. He was the most disinterested of men,--did everything for
Society, and got as little for himself out of all his gain and care, as a man
might.
That is to say, it may be supposed that he got all he wanted, otherwise with
unlimited wealth he would have got it. But his desire was to the utmost to
satisfy Society (whatever that was), and take up all its drafts upon him for
tribute. He did not shine in company; he had not very much to say for himself;
he was a reserved man, with a broad, overhanging, watchful head, that particular
kind of dull red colour in his cheeks which is rather stale than fresh, and a
somewhat uneasy expression about his coat- cuffs, as if they were in his
confidence, and had reasons for being anxious to hide his hands. In the little
he said, he was a pleasant man enough; plain, emphatic about public and private
confidence, and tenacious of the utmost deference being shown by every one, in
all things, to Society. In this same Society (if that were it which came to his
dinners, and to Mrs Merdle's receptions and concerts), he hardly seemed to enjoy
himself much, and was mostly to be found against walls and behind doors. Also
when he went out to it, instead of its coming home to him, he seemed a little
fatigued, and upon the whole rather more disposed for bed; but he was always
cultivating it nevertheless, and always moving in it--and always laying out
money on it with the greatest liberality.
Mrs Merdle's first husband had been a colonel, under whose auspices the bosom
had entered into competition with the snows of North America, and had come off
at little disadvantage in point of whiteness, and at none in point of coldness.
The colonel's son was Mrs Merdle's only child. He was of a chuckle-headed, high-
shouldered make, with a general appearance of being, not so much a young man as
a swelled boy. He had given so few signs of reason, that a by-word went among
his companions that his brain had been frozen up in a mighty frost which
prevailed at St john's, New Brunswick, at the period of his birth there, and had
never thawed from that hour. Another by-word represented him as having in his
infancy, through the negligence of a nurse, fallen out of a high window on his
head, which had been heard by responsible witnesses to crack. It is probable
that both these representations were of ex post facto origin; the young
gentleman (whose expressive name was Sparkler) being monomaniacal in offering
marriage to all manner of undesirable young ladies, and in remarking of every
successive young lady to whom he tendered a matrimonial proposal that she was 'a
doosed fine gal--well educated too--with no biggodd nonsense about her.'
A son-in-law with these limited talents, might have been a clog upon another
man; but Mr Merdle did not want a son-in-law for himself; he wanted a son-in-law
for Society. Mr Sparkler having been in the Guards, and being in the habit of
frequenting all the races, and all the lounges, and all the parties, and being
well known, Society was satisfied with its son-in-law. This happy result Mr
Merdle would have considered well attained, though Mr Sparkler had been a more
expensive article. And he did not get Mr Sparkler by any means cheap for
Society, even as it was. There was a dinner giving in the Harley Street
establishment, while Little Dorrit was stitching at her father's new shirts by
his side that night; and there were magnates from the Court and magnates from
the City, magnates from the Commons and magnates from the Lords, magnates from
the bench and magnates from the bar, Bishop magnates, Treasury magnates, Horse
Guard magnates, Admiralty magnates,--all the magnates that keep us going, and
sometimes trip us up.
'I am told,' said Bishop magnate to Horse Guards, 'that Mr Merdle has made
another enormous hit. They say a hundred thousand pounds.'
Horse Guards had heard two.
Treasury had heard three.
Bar, handling his persuasive double eye-glass, was by no means clear but that
it might be four. It was one of those happy strokes of calculation and
combination, the result of which it was difficult to estimate. It was one of
those instances of a comprehensive grasp, associated with habitual luck and
characteristic boldness, of which an age presented us but few. But here was
Brother Bellows, who had been in the great Bank case, and who could probably
tell us more. What did Brother Bellows put this new success at?
Brother Bellows was on his way to make his bow to the bosom, and could only
tell them in passing that he had heard it stated, with great appearance of
truth, as being worth, from first to last, half-a-million of money.
Admiralty said Mr Merdle was a wonderful man, Treasury said he was a new
power in the country, and would be able to buy up the whole House of Commons.
Bishop said he was glad to think that this wealth flowed into the coffers of a
gentleman who was always disposed to maintain the best interests of Society.
Mr Merdle himself was usually late on these occasions, as a man still
detained in the clutch of giant enterprises when other men had shaken off their
dwarfs for the day. On this occasion, he was the last arrival. Treasury said
Merdle's work punished him a little. Bishop said he was glad to think that this
wealth flowed into the coffers of a gentleman who accepted it with meekness.
Powder! There was so much Powder in waiting, that it flavoured the dinner.
Pulverous particles got into the dishes, and Society's meats had a seasoning of
first-rate footmen. Mr Merdle took down a countess who was secluded somewhere in
the core of an immense dress, to which she was in the proportion of the heart to
the overgrown cabbage. If so low a simile may be admitted, the dress went down
the staircase like a richly brocaded Jack in the Green, and nobody knew what
sort of small person carried it.
Society had everything it could want, and could not want, for dinner. It had
everything to look at, and everything to eat, and everything to drink. It is to
be hoped it enjoyed itself; for Mr Merdle's own share of the repast might have
been paid for with eighteenpence. Mrs Merdle was magnificent. The chief butler
was the next magnificent institution of the day. He was the stateliest man in
the company. He did nothing, but he looked on as few other men could have done.
He was Mr Merdle's last gift to Society. Mr Merdle didn't want him, and was put
out of countenance when the great creature looked at him; but inappeasable
Society would have him--and had got him.
The invisible countess carried out the Green at the usual stage of the
entertainment, and the file of beauty was closed up by the bosom. Treasury said,
Juno. Bishop said, Judith.
Bar fell into discussion with Horse Guards concerning courts- martial.
Brothers Bellows and Bench struck in. Other magnates paired off. Mr Merdle sat
silent, and looked at the table-cloth. Sometimes a magnate addressed him, to
turn the stream of his own particular discussion towards him; but Mr Merdle
seldom gave much attention to it, or did more than rouse himself from his
calculations and pass the wine.
When they rose, so many of the magnates had something to say to Mr Merdle
individually that he held little levees by the sideboard, and checked them off
as they went out at the door.
Treasury hoped he might venture to congratulate one of England's world-famed
capitalists and merchant-princes (he had turned that original sentiment in the
house a few times, and it came easy to him) on a new achievement. To extend the
triumphs of such men was to extend the triumphs and resources of the nation; and
Treasury felt--he gave Mr Merdle to understand--patriotic on the subject.
'Thank you, my lord,' said Mr Merdle; 'thank you. I accept your
congratulations with pride, and I am glad you approve.'
'Why, I don't unreservedly approve, my dear Mr Merdle. Because,' smiling
Treasury turned him by the arm towards the sideboard and spoke banteringly, 'it
never can be worth your while to come among us and help us.'
Mr Merdle felt honoured by the--
'No, no,' said Treasury, 'that is not the light in which one so distinguished
for practical knowledge and great foresight, can be expected to regard it. If we
should ever be happily enabled, by accidentally possessing the control over
circumstances, to propose to one so eminent to--to come among us, and give us
the weight of his influence, knowledge, and character, we could only propose it
to him as a duty. In fact, as a duty that he owed to Society.'
Mr Merdle intimated that Society was the apple of his eye, and that its
claims were paramount to every other consideration. Treasury moved on, and Bar
came up. Bar, with his little insinuating jury droop, and fingering his
persuasive double eye-glass, hoped he might be excused if he mentioned to one of
the greatest converters of the root of all evil into the root of all good, who
had for a long time reflected a shining lustre on the annals even of our
commercial country--if he mentioned, disinterestedly, and as, what we lawyers
called in our pedantic way, amicus curiae, a fact that had come by accident
within his knowledge. He had been required to look over the title of a very
considerable estate in one of the eastern counties-- lying, in fact, for Mr
Merdle knew we lawyers loved to be particular, on the borders of two of the
eastern counties. Now, the title was perfectly sound, and the estate was to be
purchased by one who had the command of--Money (jury droop and persuasive
eye-glass), on remarkably advantageous terms. This had come to Bar's knowledge
only that day, and it had occurred to him, 'I shall have the honour of dining
with my esteemed friend Mr Merdle this evening, and, strictly between ourselves,
I will mention the opportunity.' Such a purchase would involve not only a great
legitimate political influence, but some half-dozen church presentations of
considerable annual value. Now, that Mr Merdle was already at no loss to
discover means of occupying even his capital, and of fully employing even his
active and vigorous intellect, Bar well knew: but he would venture to suggest
that the question arose in his mind, whether one who had deservedly gained so
high a position and so European a reputation did not owe it--we would not say to
himself, but we would say to Society, to possess himself of such influences as
these; and to exercise them--we would not say for his own, or for his party's,
but we would say for Society's--benefit.
Mr Merdle again expressed himself as wholly devoted to that object of his
constant consideration, and Bar took his persuasive eye- glass up the grand
staircase. Bishop then came undesignedly sidling in the direction of the
sideboard.
Surely the goods of this world, it occurred in an accidental way to Bishop to
remark, could scarcely be directed into happier channels than when they
accumulated under the magic touch of the wise and sagacious, who, while they
knew the just value of riches (Bishop tried here to look as if he were rather
poor himself), were aware of their importance, judiciously governed and rightly
distributed, to the welfare of our brethren at large.
Mr Merdle with humility expressed his conviction that Bishop couldn't mean
him, and with inconsistency expressed his high gratification in Bishop's good
opinion.
Bishop then--jauntily stepping out a little with his well-shaped right leg,
as though he said to Mr Merdle 'don't mind the apron; a mere form!' put this
case to his good friend:
Whether it had occurred to his good friend, that Society might not
unreasonably hope that one so blest in his undertakings, and whose example on
his pedestal was so influential with it, would shed a little money in the
direction of a mission or so to Africa?
Mr Merdle signifying that the idea should have his best attention, Bishop put
another case:
Whether his good friend had at all interested himself in the proceedings of
our Combined Additional Endowed Dignitaries Committee, and whether it had
occurred to him that to shed a little money in that direction might be a great
conception finely executed?
Mr Merdle made a similar reply, and Bishop explained his reason for
inquiring.
Society looked to such men as his good friend to do such things. It was not
that HE looked to them, but that Society looked to them.
just as it was not Our Committee who wanted the Additional Endowed
Dignitaries, but it was Society that was in a state of the most agonising
uneasiness of mind until it got them. He begged to assure his good friend that
he was extremely sensible of his good friend's regard on all occasions for the
best interests of Society; and he considered that he was at once consulting
those interests and expressing the feeling of Society, when he wished him
continued prosperity, continued increase of riches, and continued things in
general.
Bishop then betook himself up-stairs, and the other magnates gradually
floated up after him until there was no one left below but Mr Merdle. That
gentleman, after looking at the table-cloth until the soul of the chief butler
glowed with a noble resentment, went slowly up after the rest, and became of no
account in the stream of people on the grand staircase. Mrs Merdle was at home,
the best of the jewels were hung out to be seen, Society got what it came for,
Mr Merdle drank twopennyworth of tea in a corner and got more than he wanted.
Among the evening magnates was a famous physician, who knew everybody, and
whom everybody knew. On entering at the door, he came upon Mr Merdle drinking
his tea in a corner, and touched him on the arm.
Mr Merdle started. 'Oh! It's you!'
'Any better to-day?'
'No,' said Mr Merdle, 'I am no better.'
'A pity I didn't see you this morning. Pray come to me to-morrow, or let me
come to you. '
'Well!' he replied. 'I will come to-morrow as I drive by.' Bar and Bishop had
both been bystanders during this short dialogue, and as Mr Merdle was swept away
by the crowd, they made their remarks upon it to the Physician. Bar said, there
was a certain point of mental strain beyond which no man could go; that the
point varied with various textures of brain and peculiarities of constitution,
as he had had occasion to notice in several of his learned brothers; but the
point of endurance passed by a line's breadth, depression and dyspepsia ensued.
Not to intrude on the sacred mysteries of medicine, he took it, now (with the
jury droop and persuasive eye-glass), that this was Merdle's case? Bishop said
that when he was a young man, and had fallen for a brief space into the habit of
writing sermons on Saturdays, a habit which all young sons of the church should
sedulously avoid, he had frequently been sensible of a depression, arising as he
supposed from an over- taxed intellect, upon which the yolk of a new-laid egg,
beaten up by the good woman in whose house he at that time lodged, with a glass
of sound sherry, nutmeg, and powdered sugar acted like a charm. Without
presuming to offer so simple a remedy to the consideration of so profound a
professor of the great healing art, he would venture to inquire whether the
strain, being by way of intricate calculations, the spirits might not (humanly
speaking) be restored to their tone by a gentle and yet generous stimulant?
'Yes,' said the physician, 'yes, you are both right. But I may as well tell
you that I can find nothing the matter with Mr Merdle. He has the constitution
of a rhinoceros, the digestion of an ostrich, and the concentration of an
oyster. As to nerves, Mr Merdle is of a cool temperament, and not a sensitive
man: is about as invulnerable, I should say, as Achilles. How such a man should
suppose himself unwell without reason, you may think strange. But I have found
nothing the matter with him. He may have some deep- seated recondite complaint.
I can't say. I only say, that at present I have not found it out.'
There was no shadow of Mr Merdle's complaint on the bosom now displaying
precious stones in rivalry with many similar superb jewel-stands; there was no
shadow of Mr Merdle's complaint on young Sparkler hovering about the rooms,
monomaniacally seeking any sufficiently ineligible young lady with no nonsense
about her; there was no shadow of Mr Merdle's complaint on the Barnacles and
Stiltstalkings, of whom whole colonies were present; or on any of the company.
Even on himself, its shadow was faint enough as he moved about among the throng,
receiving homage.
Mr Merdle's complaint. Society and he had so much to do with one another in
all things else, that it is hard to imagine his complaint, if he had one, being
solely his own affair. Had he that deep-seated recondite complaint, and did any
doctor find it out? Patience. in the meantime, the shadow of the Marshalsea wall
was a real darkening influence, and could be seen on the Dorrit Family at any
stage of the sun's course.
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