Wherein a certain gentleman becomes particular in his
attentions 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 despondent 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 drawing-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 on 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 extricate himself from the 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, an't it? 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 accompanied 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 affected 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 gentlemen, Bailey,' said Miss Pecksniff. `I think you
must have made a mistake.'
Mr. 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 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 comfortable 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 ecstasy, which is commonly called
The Frog's Hornpipe. A manifestation so lively, brought to their immediate
recollection the great virtuous precept, `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
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 occurrence 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?'
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? I say. How's the other one?'
`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 you 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.'
`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?'
`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
it?' 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 off, 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. What a sleek, sly chap he is! Just
like a tom-cat, an't he?'
`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 my 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?'
`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? Three-score-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? 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 go putting
one's-self out of the way by talking about him. 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?'
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 that 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 shows, in respect of which 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 superior 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
Warehousemen, 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 fantastic 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 bedrooms
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,
strewed 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 affair 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 straddling 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 had 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 things 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?'
`I should think it was,' rejoined the old man.
`What's the good of that?' rejoined the son. `I 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, you 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? Here;
you sit on the right side of me, and I'll have her upon the left. Other one,
will you come here?'
`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?' 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 called. As
he spoke, the door of a small glass office, which was partitioned 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 lumbercloset.
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 immovable about 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?' 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 years 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 understands 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.'
`Has he no appetite?' asked Merry.
`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 immovable.
`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'll 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? 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 infinitely 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, filled him with a stealthy glee: causing him to rub his hands and
chuckle covertly, as if he said in his sleeve, `I taught him. I 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.
Chuffey boggled over his plate so long, that Mr. Jones, 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, Chuffey 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? A hypocrite, girls, eh? 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?'
`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 wouldn'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 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
Chuffey fell back into a dark corner on one side of the fireplace, 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 produced 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 ground-work 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 neutralise
another, when wholesome remedies would not avail, so he was restrained by a bad
passion from quaffing his full measure of evil, when virtue might have sought to
hold him back in vain.
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 unwilling 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 own hospitable and earnest way. When all his efforts to detain them were
fruitless, he put on his hat and greatcoat 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, ha, 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! I'm 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 wrong 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 attention, 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 upstairs; 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 there, and she was glad of it for it really was high time that 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 oysterbarrel or a fat gentleman, or any other dull reality of
life, in a stagecoach 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 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 supposed to be
comprised in Mr. Pecksniff's mission, the young ladies received the compliment
rather coldly.
`If I dared,' said Mrs. Todgers, perceiving this, `to violate a confidence
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 tonight I think you would be
interested. But I mustn'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
arrangement; 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 awakened
some time 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 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 key-hole of the door. He didn't 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, who, for the reasons aforesaid, 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 CHARITY 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 breezes 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 gentlemen
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 their 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, we're going home,' returned Mercy.
`An't you a-going to leave none of 'em a lock of your hair?' inquired the
youth. `It's real, an't it?'
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 have
gone behind her at dinner-time and pulled it; 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 inquired 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? 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'll 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? 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, when
the gentlemans' appetites is good. Wot,' said Mr. Bailey, stung by the
recollection of his wrongs, `wot, if they do consume the per-vishuns. It an't my
fault, is it?'
`Surely no one says it is,' said Mercy.
`Don't they though?' 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, I
know.'
The young ladies, on behalf of Mr. Pecksniff and themselves, acted on this
thoughtful advice; and in consideration of their private friendship, 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?'
`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.
`Look ye!' said Anthony in his ear. `I think he is sweet upon you daughter.'
`Tut, my good sir,' said Mr. Pecksniff, with his eyes still closed; `young
people, young people. A kind of cousins, too. No more sweetness than is in that,
sir.'
`Why, there is very little sweetness in that, according to our experience,'
returned Anthony. `Isn't there a trifle more here?'
`Impossible to say,' rejoined Mr. Pecksniff. `Quite impossible! You surprise
me.'
`Yes, I know that,' said the old man, drily. `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 pretending 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 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. Pecksniff 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 sight of the
coach-lamps caught such brief snatches and glimpses of the good man's face, as
the constant interposition of Mr. Jinkins allowed. For Jinkins, to the last the
youngest gentleman's rock ahead in life, stood upon the coachstep 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 consummation 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 coach man on the box, who thanked him kindly, and stuck it
in his buttonhole.
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 ephemeral 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.
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