20459m
‘What do you pickmyleg out for?’ said Mr Crimple, looking with something of an anxious expression at his limb. ‘It’s the same with other legs, ain’t it?’
‘Never you mind, my good sir,’ returned the doctor, shaking his head, ‘whether it is the same with other legs, or not the same.’
‘But I do mind,’ said David.
‘I take a particular case, Mr Montague,’ returned the doctor, ‘as illustrating my remark, you observe. In this portion of Mr Crimple’s leg, sir, there is a certain amount of animal oil. In every one of Mr Crimple’s joints, sir, there is more or less of the same deposit. Very good. If Mr Crimple neglects his meals, or fails to take his proper quantity of rest, that oil wanes, and becomes exhausted. What is the consequence? Mr Crimple’s bones sink down into their sockets, sir, and Mr Crimple becomes a weazen, puny, stunted, miserable man!’
The doctor let Mr Crimple’s leg fall suddenly, as if he were already in that agreeable condition; turned down his wristbands again, and looked triumphantly at the chairman.
‘We know a few secrets of nature in our profession, sir,’ said the doctor. ‘Of course we do. We study for that; we pass the Hall and the College for that; and we take our station in societybythat. It’s extraordinary how little is known on these subjects generally. Where do you suppose, now’—the doctor closed one eye, as he leaned back smilingly in his chair, and formed a triangle with his hands, of which his two thumbs composed the base—‘where do you suppose Mr Crimple’s stomach is?’
Mr Crimple, more agitated than before, clapped his hand immediately below his waistcoat.
‘Not at all,’ cried the doctor; ‘not at all. Quite a popular mistake! My good sir, you’re altogether deceived.’
‘I feel it there, when it’s out of order; that’s all I know,’ said Crimple.
‘You think you do,’ replied the doctor; ‘but science knows better. There was a patient of mine once,’ touching one of the many mourning rings upon his fingers, and slightly bowing his head, ‘a gentleman who did me the honour to make a very handsome mention of me in his will—“in testimony,” as he was pleased to say, “of the unremitting zeal, talent, and attention of my friend and medical attendant, John Jobling, Esquire, M.R.C.S.,”—who was so overcome by the idea of having all his life laboured under an erroneous view of the locality of this important organ, that when I assured him on my professional reputation, he was mistaken, he burst into tears, put out his hand, and said, “Jobling, God bless you!” Immediately afterwards he became speechless, and was ultimately buried at Brixton.’
‘By your leave there!’ cried Bullamy, without. ‘By your leave! Refreshment for the Board-room!’
‘Ha!’ said the doctor, jocularly, as he rubbed his hands, and drew his chair nearer to the table. ‘The true Life Assurance, Mr Montague. The best Policy in the world, my dear sir. We should be provident, and eat and drink whenever we can. Eh, Mr Crimple?’
The resident Director acquiesced rather sulkily, as if the gratification of replenishing his stomach had been impaired by the unsettlement of his preconceived opinions in reference to its situation. But the appearance of the porter and under-porter with a tray covered with a snow-white cloth, which, being thrown back, displayed a pair of cold roast fowls, flanked by some potted meats and a cool salad, quickly restored his good humour. It was enhanced still further by the arrival of a bottle of excellent madeira, and another of champagne; and he soon attacked the repast with an appetite scarcely inferior to that of the medical officer.
The lunch was handsomely served, with a profusion of rich glass plate, and china; which seemed to denote that eating and drinking on a showy scale formed no unimportant item in the business of the Anglo-Bengalee Directorship. As it proceeded, the Medical Officer grew more and more joyous and red-faced, insomuch that every mouthful he ate, and every drop of wine he swallowed, seemed to impart new lustre to his eyes, and to light up new sparks in his nose and forehead.
In certain quarters of the City and its neighbourhood, Mr Jobling was, as we have already seen in some measure, a very popular character. He had a portentously sagacious chin, and a pompous voice, with a rich huskiness in some of its tones that went directly to the heart, like a ray of light shining through the ruddy medium of choice old burgundy. His neckerchief and shirt-frill were ever of the whitest, his clothes of the blackest and sleekest, his gold watch-chain of the heaviest, and his seals of the largest. His boots, which were always of the brightest, creaked as he walked. Perhaps he could shake his head, rub his hands, or warm himself before a fire, better than any man alive; and he had a peculiar way of smacking his lips and saying, ‘Ah!’ at intervals while patients detailed their symptoms, which inspired great confidence. It seemed to express, ‘I know what you’re going to say better than you do; but go on, go on.’ As he talked on all occasions whether he had anything to say or not, it was unanimously observed of him that he was ‘full of anecdote;’ and his experience and profit from it were considered, for the same reason, to be something much too extensive for description. His female patients could never praise him too highly; and the coldest of his male admirers would always say this for him to their friends, ‘that whatever Jobling’s professional skill might be (and it could not be denied that he had a very high reputation), he was one of the most comfortable fellows you ever saw in your life!’
Jobling was for many reasons, and not last in the list because his connection lay principally among tradesmen and their families, exactly the sort of person whom the Anglo-Bengalee Company wanted for a medical officer. But Jobling was far too knowing to connect himself with the company in any closer ties than as a paid (and well paid) functionary, or to allow his connection to be misunderstood abroad, if he could help it. Hence he always stated the case to an inquiring patient, after this manner:
‘Why, my dear sir, with regard to the Anglo-Bengalee, my information, you see, is limited; very limited. I am the medical officer, in consideration of a certain monthly payment. The labourer is worthy of his hire;bis dat qui cito dat’—(‘classical scholar, Jobling!’ thinks the patient, ‘well-read man!’)—‘and I receive it regularly. Therefore I am bound, so far as my own knowledge goes, to speak well of the establishment.’ (‘Nothing can be fairer than Jobling’s conduct,’ thinks the patient, who has just paid Jobling’s bill himself.) ‘If you put any question to me, my dear friend,’ says the doctor, ‘touching the responsibility or capital of the company, there I am at fault; for I have no head for figures, and not being a shareholder, am delicate of showing any curiosity whatever on the subject. Delicacy—your amiable lady will agree with me I am sure—should be one of the first characteristics of a medical man.’ (‘Nothing can be finer or more gentlemanly than Jobling’s feeling,’ thinks the patient.) ‘Very good, my dear sir, so the matter stands. You don’t know Mr Montague? I’m sorry for it. A remarkably handsome man, and quite the gentleman in every respect. Property, I am told, in India. House and everything belonging to him, beautiful. Costly furniture on the most elegant and lavish scale. And pictures, which, even in an anatomical point of view, are perfection. In case you should ever think of doing anything with the company, I’ll pass you, you may depend upon it. I can conscientiously report you a healthy subject. If I understand any man’s constitution, it is yours; and this little indisposition has done him more good, ma’am,’ says the doctor, turning to the patient’s wife, ‘than if he had swallowed the contents of half the nonsensical bottles in my surgery. For theyarenonsense—to tell the honest truth, one half of them are nonsense—compared with such a constitution as his!’ (‘Jobling is the most friendly creature I ever met with in my life,’ thinks the patient; ‘and upon my word and honour, I’ll consider of it!’)
‘Commission to you, doctor, on four new policies, and a loan this morning, eh?’ said Crimple, looking, when they had finished lunch, over some papers brought in by the porter. ‘Well done!’
‘Jobling, my dear friend,’ said Tigg, ‘long life to you.’
‘No, no. Nonsense. Upon my word I’ve no right to draw the commission,’ said the doctor, ‘I haven’t really. It’s picking your pocket. I don’t recommend anybody here. I only say what I know. My patients ask me what I know, and I tell ‘em what I know. Nothing else. Caution is my weak side, that’s the truth; and always was from a boy. That is,’ said the doctor, filling his glass, ‘caution in behalf of other people. Whether I would repose confidence in this company myself, if I had not been paying money elsewhere for many years—that’s quite another question.’
He tried to look as if there were no doubt about it; but feeling that he did it but indifferently, changed the theme and praised the wine.
‘Talking of wine,’ said the doctor, ‘reminds me of one of the finest glasses of light old port I ever drank in my life; and that was at a funeral. You have not seen anything of—ofthatparty, Mr Montague, have you?’ handing him a card.
‘He is not buried, I hope?’ said Tigg, as he took it. ‘The honour of his company is not requested if he is.’
‘Ha, ha!’ laughed the doctor. ‘No; not quite. He was honourably connected with that very occasion though.’
‘Oh!’ said Tigg, smoothing his moustache, as he cast his eyes upon the name. ‘I recollect. No. He has not been here.’
The words were on his lips, when Bullamy entered, and presented a card to the Medical Officer.
‘Talk of the what’s his name—’ observed the doctor rising.
‘And he’s sure to appear, eh?’ said Tigg.
‘Why, no, Mr Montague, no,’ returned the doctor. ‘We will not say that in the present case, for this gentleman is very far from it.’
‘So much the better,’ retorted Tigg. ‘So much the more adaptable to the Anglo-Bengalee. Bullamy, clear the table and take the things out by the other door. Mr Crimple, business.’
‘Shall I introduce him?’ asked Jobling.
‘I shall be eternally delighted,’ answered Tigg, kissing his hand and smiling sweetly.
The doctor disappeared into the outer office, and immediately returned with Jonas Chuzzlewit.
‘Mr Montague,’ said Jobling. ‘Allow me. My friend Mr Chuzzlewit. My dear friend—our chairman. Now do you know,’ he added checking himself with infinite policy, and looking round with a smile; ‘that’s a very singular instance of the force of example. It really is a very remarkable instance of the force of example. I sayourchairman. Why do I say our chairman? Because he is notmychairman, you know. I have no connection with the company, farther than giving them, for a certain fee and reward, my poor opinion as a medical man, precisely as I may give it any day to Jack Noakes or Tom Styles. Then why do I say our chairman? Simply because I hear the phrase constantly repeated about me. Such is the involuntary operation of the mental faculty in the imitative biped man. Mr Crimple, I believe you never take snuff? Injudicious. You should.’
Pending these remarks on the part of the doctor, and the lengthened and sonorous pinch with which he followed them up, Jonas took a seat at the board; as ungainly a man as ever he has been within the reader’s knowledge. It is too common with all of us, but it is especially in the nature of a mean mind, to be overawed by fine clothes and fine furniture. They had a very decided influence on Jonas.
‘Now you two gentlemen have business to discuss, I know,’ said the doctor, ‘and your time is precious. So is mine; for several lives are waiting for me in the next room, and I have a round of visits to make after—after I have taken ‘em. Having had the happiness to introduce you to each other, I may go about my business. Good-bye. But allow me, Mr Montague, before I go, to say this of my friend who sits beside you: That gentleman has done more, sir,’ rapping his snuff-box solemnly, ‘to reconcile me to human nature, than any man alive or dead. Good-bye!’
With these words Jobling bolted abruptly out of the room, and proceeded in his own official department, to impress the lives in waiting with a sense of his keen conscientiousness in the discharge of his duty, and the great difficulty of getting into the Anglo-Bengalee; by feeling their pulses, looking at their tongues, listening at their ribs, poking them in the chest, and so forth; though, if he didn’t well know beforehand that whatever kind of lives they were, the Anglo-Bengalee would accept them readily, he was far from being the Jobling that his friend considered him; and was not the original Jobling, but a spurious imitation.
Mr Crimple also departed on the business of the morning; and Jonas Chuzzlewit and Tigg were left alone.
‘I learn from our friend,’ said Tigg, drawing his chair towards Jonas with a winning ease of manner, ‘that you have been thinking—’
‘Oh! Ecod then he’d no right to say so,’ cried Jonas, interrupting. ‘I didn’t tellhimmy thoughts. If he took it into his head that I was coming here for such or such a purpose, why, that’s his lookout. I don’t stand committed by that.’
Jonas said this offensively enough; for over and above the habitual distrust of his character, it was in his nature to seek to revenge himself on the fine clothes and the fine furniture, in exact proportion as he had been unable to withstand their influence.
‘If I come here to ask a question or two, and get a document or two to consider of, I don’t bind myself to anything. Let’s understand that, you know,’ said Jonas.
‘My dear fellow!’ cried Tigg, clapping him on the shoulder, ‘I applaud your frankness. If men like you and I speak openly at first, all possible misunderstanding is avoided. Why should I disguise what you know so well, but what the crowd never dream of? We companies are all birds of prey; mere birds of prey. The only question is, whether in serving our own turn, we can serve yours too; whether in double-lining our own nest, we can put a single living into yours. Oh, you’re in our secret. You’re behind the scenes. We’ll make a merit of dealing plainly with you, when we know we can’t help it.’
It was remarked, on the first introduction of Mr Jonas into these pages, that there is a simplicity of cunning no less than a simplicity of innocence, and that in all matters involving a faith in knavery, he was the most credulous of men. If Mr Tigg had preferred any claim to high and honourable dealing, Jonas would have suspected him though he had been a very model of probity; but when he gave utterance to Jonas’s own thoughts of everything and everybody, Jonas began to feel that he was a pleasant fellow, and one to be talked to freely.
He changed his position in the chair, not for a less awkward, but for a more boastful attitude; and smiling in his miserable conceit rejoined:
‘You an’t a bad man of business, Mr Montague. You know how to set about it, Iwillsay.’
‘Tut, tut,’ said Tigg, nodding confidentially, and showing his white teeth; ‘we are not children, Mr Chuzzlewit; we are grown men, I hope.’
Jonas assented, and said after a short silence, first spreading out his legs, and sticking one arm akimbo to show how perfectly at home he was,
‘The truth is—’
‘Don’t say, the truth,’ interposed Tigg, with another grin. ‘It’s so like humbug.’
Greatly charmed by this, Jonas began again.
‘The long and the short of it is—’
‘Better,’ muttered Tigg. ‘Much better!’
‘—That I didn’t consider myself very well used by one or two of the old companies in some negotiations I have had with ‘em—once had, I mean. They started objections they had no right to start, and put questions they had no right to put, and carried things much too high for my taste.’
As he made these observations he cast down his eyes, and looked curiously at the carpet. Mr Tigg looked curiously at him.
He made so long a pause, that Tigg came to the rescue, and said, in his pleasantest manner:
‘Take a glass of wine.’
‘No, no,’ returned Jonas, with a cunning shake of the head; ‘none of that, thankee. No wine over business. All very well for you, but it wouldn’t do for me.’
‘What an old hand you are, Mr Chuzzlewit!’ said Tigg, leaning back in his chair, and leering at him through his half-shut eyes.
Jonas shook his head again, as much as to say, ‘You’re right there;’ And then resumed, jocosely:
‘Not such an old hand, either, but that I’ve been and got married. That’s rather green, you’ll say. Perhaps it is, especially as she’s young. But one never knows what may happen to these women, so I’m thinking of insuring her life. It is but fair, you know, that a man should secure some consolation in case of meeting with such a loss.’
‘If anything can console him under such heart-breaking circumstances,’ murmured Tigg, with his eyes shut up as before.
‘Exactly,’ returned Jonas; ‘if anything can. Now, supposing I did it here, I should do it cheap, I know, and easy, without bothering her about it; which I’d much rather not do, for it’s just in a woman’s way to take it into her head, if you talk to her about such things, that she’s going to die directly.’
‘So it is,’ cried Tigg, kissing his hand in honour of the sex. ‘You’re quite right. Sweet, silly, fluttering little simpletons!’
‘Well,’ said Jonas, ‘on that account, you know, and because offence has been given me in other quarters, I wouldn’t mind patronizing this Company. But I want to know what sort of security there is for the Company’s going on. That’s the—’
‘Not the truth?’ cried Tigg, holding up his jewelled hand. ‘Don’t use that Sunday School expression, please!’
‘The long and the short of it,’ said Jonas. ‘The long and the short of it is, what’s the security?’
‘The paid-up capital, my dear sir,’ said Tigg, referring to some papers on the table, ‘is, at this present moment—’
‘Oh! I understand all about paid-up capitals, you know,’ said Jonas.
‘You do?’ cried Tigg, stopping short.
‘I should hope so.’
He turned the papers down again, and moving nearer to him, said in his ear:
‘I know you do. I know you do. Look at me!’
It was not much in Jonas’s way to look straight at anybody; but thus requested, he made shift to take a tolerable survey of the chairman’s features. The chairman fell back a little, to give him the better opportunity.
‘You know me?’ he inquired, elevating his eyebrows. ‘You recollect? You’ve seen me before?’
‘Why, I thought I remembered your face when I first came in,’ said Jonas, gazing at it; ‘but I couldn’t call to mind where I had seen it. No. I don’t remember, even now. Was it in the street?’
‘Was it in Pecksniff’s parlour?’ said Tigg
‘In Pecksniff’s parlour!’ echoed Jonas, fetching a long breath. ‘You don’t mean when—’
‘Yes,’ cried Tigg, ‘when there was a very charming and delightful little family party, at which yourself and your respected father assisted.’
‘Well, never mindhim,’ said Jonas. ‘He’s dead, and there’s no help for it.’
‘Dead, is he!’ cried Tigg, ‘Venerable old gentleman, is he dead! You’re very like him.’
Jonas received this compliment with anything but a good grace, perhaps because of his own private sentiments in reference to the personal appearance of his deceased parent; perhaps because he was not best pleased to find that Montague and Tigg were one. That gentleman perceived it, and tapping him familiarly on the sleeve, beckoned him to the window. From this moment, Mr Montague’s jocularity and flow of spirits were remarkable.
‘Do you find me at all changed since that time?’ he asked. ‘Speak plainly.’
Jonas looked hard at his waistcoat and jewels; and said ‘Rather, ecod!’
‘Was I at all seedy in those days?’ asked Montague.
‘Precious seedy,’ said Jonas.
Mr Montague pointed down into the street, where Bailey and the cab were in attendance.
‘Neat; perhaps dashing. Do you know whose it is?’
‘No.’
‘Mine. Do you like this room?’
‘It must have cost a lot of money,’ said Jonas.
‘You’re right. Mine too. Why don’t you’—he whispered this, and nudged him in the side with his elbow—‘why don’t you take premiums, instead of paying ‘em? That’s what a man like you should do. Join us!’
Jonas stared at him in amazement.
‘Is that a crowded street?’ asked Montague, calling his attention to the multitude without.
‘Very,’ said Jonas, only glancing at it, and immediately afterwards looking at him again.
‘There are printed calculations,’ said his companion, ‘which will tell you pretty nearly how many people will pass up and down that thoroughfare in the course of a day. I can tell you how many of ‘em will come in here, merely because they find this office here; knowing no more about it than they do of the Pyramids. Ha, ha! Join us. You shall come in cheap.’
Jonas looked at him harder and harder.
‘I can tell you,’ said Tigg in his ear, ‘how many of ‘em will buy annuities, effect insurances, bring us their money in a hundred shapes and ways, force it upon us, trust us as if we were the Mint; yet know no more about us than you do of that crossing-sweeper at the corner. Not so much. Ha, ha!’
Jonas gradually broke into a smile.
‘Yah!’ said Montague, giving him a pleasant thrust in the breast; ‘you’re too deep for us, you dog, or I wouldn’t have told you. Dine with me to-morrow, in Pall Mall!’
‘I will’ said Jonas.
‘Done!’ cried Montague. ‘Wait a bit. Take these papers with you and look ‘em over. See,’ he said, snatching some printed forms from the table. ‘B is a little tradesman, clerk, parson, artist, author, any common thing you like.’
‘Yes,’ said Jonas, looking greedily over his shoulder. ‘Well!’
‘B wants a loan. Say fifty or a hundred pound; perhaps more; no matter. B proposes self and two securities. B is accepted. Two securities give a bond. B assures his own life for double the amount, and brings two friends’ lives also—just to patronize the office. Ha ha, ha! Is that a good notion?’
‘Ecod, that’s a capital notion!’ cried Jonas. ‘But does he really do it?’
‘Do it!’ repeated the chairman. ‘B’s hard up, my good fellow, and will do anything. Don’t you see? It’s my idea.’
‘It does you honour. I’m blest if it don’t,’ said Jonas.
‘I think it does,’ replied the chairman, ‘and I’m proud to hear you say so. B pays the highest lawful interest—’
‘That an’t much,’ interrupted Jonas.
‘Right! quite right!’ retorted Tigg. ‘And hard it is upon the part of the law that it should be so confoundedly down upon us unfortunate victims; when it takes such amazing good interest for itself from all its clients. But charity begins at home, and justice begins next door. Well! The law being hard upon us, we’re not exactly soft upon B; for besides charging B the regular interest, we get B’s premium, and B’s friends’ premiums, and we charge B for the bond, and, whether we accept him or not, we charge B for “inquiries” (we keep a man, at a pound a week, to make ‘em), and we charge B a trifle for the secretary; and in short, my good fellow, we stick it into B, up hill and down dale, and make a devilish comfortable little property out of him. Ha, ha, ha! I drive B, in point of fact,’ said Tigg, pointing to the cabriolet, ‘and a thoroughbred horse he is. Ha, ha, ha!’
Jonas enjoyed this joke very much indeed. It was quite in his peculiar vein of humour.
‘Then,’ said Tigg Montague, ‘we grant annuities on the very lowest and most advantageous terms known in the money market; and the old ladies and gentlemen down in the country buy ‘em. Ha, ha, ha! And we pay ‘em too—perhaps. Ha, ha, ha!’
‘But there’s responsibility in that,’ said Jonas, looking doubtful.
‘I take it all myself,’ said Tigg Montague. ‘Here I am responsible for everything. The only responsible person in the establishment! Ha, ha, ha! Then there are the Life Assurances without loans; the common policies. Very profitable, very comfortable. Money down, you know; repeated every year; capital fun!’
‘But when they begin to fall in,’ observed Jonas. ‘It’s all very well, while the office is young, but when the policies begin to die—that’s what I am thinking of.’
‘At the first start, my dear fellow,’ said Montague, ‘to show you how correct your judgment is, we had a couple of unlucky deaths that brought us down to a grand piano.’
‘Brought you down where?’ cried Jonas.
‘I give you my sacred word of honour,’ said Tigg Montague, ‘that I raised money on every other individual piece of property, and was left alone in the world with a grand piano. And it was an upright-grand too, so that I couldn’t even sit upon it. But, my dear fellow, we got over it. We granted a great many new policies that week (liberal allowance to solicitors, by the bye), and got over it in no time. Whenever they should chance to fall in heavily, as you very justly observe they may, one of these days; then—’ he finished the sentence in so low a whisper, that only one disconnected word was audible, and that imperfectly. But it sounded like ‘Bolt.’
‘Why, you’re as bold as brass!’ said Jonas, in the utmost admiration.
‘A man can well afford to be as bold as brass, my good fellow, when he gets gold in exchange!’ cried the chairman, with a laugh that shook him from head to foot. ‘You’ll dine with me to-morrow?’
‘At what time?’ asked Jonas.
‘Seven. Here’s my card. Take the documents. I see you’ll join us!’
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Jonas. ‘There’s a good deal to be looked into first.’
‘You shall look,’ said Montague, slapping him on the back, ‘into anything and everything you please. But you’ll join us, I am convinced. You were made for it. Bullamy!’
Obedient to the summons and the little bell, the waistcoat appeared. Being charged to show Jonas out, it went before; and the voice within it cried, as usual, ‘By your leave there, by your leave! Gentleman from the board-room, by your leave!’
Mr Montague being left alone, pondered for some moments, and then said, raising his voice:
‘Is Nadgett in the office there?’
‘Here he is, sir.’ And he promptly entered; shutting the board-room door after him, as carefully as if he were about to plot a murder.
He was the man at a pound a week who made the inquiries. It was no virtue or merit in Nadgett that he transacted all his Anglo-Bengalee business secretly and in the closest confidence; for he was born to be a secret. He was a short, dried-up, withered old man, who seemed to have secreted his very blood; for nobody would have given him credit for the possession of six ounces of it in his whole body. How he lived was a secret; where he lived was a secret; and even what he was, was a secret. In his musty old pocket-book he carried contradictory cards, in some of which he called himself a coal-merchant, in others a wine-merchant, in others a commission-agent, in others a collector, in others an accountant; as if he really didn’t know the secret himself. He was always keeping appointments in the City, and the other man never seemed to come. He would sit on ‘Change for hours, looking at everybody who walked in and out, and would do the like at Garraway’s, and in other business coffee-rooms, in some of which he would be occasionally seen drying a very damp pocket-handkerchief before the fire, and still looking over his shoulder for the man who never appeared. He was mildewed, threadbare, shabby; always had flue upon his legs and back; and kept his linen so secretly buttoning up and wrapping over, that he might have had none—perhaps he hadn’t. He carried one stained beaver glove, which he dangled before him by the forefinger as he walked or sat; but even its fellow was a secret. Some people said he had been a bankrupt, others that he had gone an infant into an ancient Chancery suit which was still depending, but it was all a secret. He carried bits of sealing-wax and a hieroglyphical old copper seal in his pocket, and often secretly indited letters in corner boxes of the trysting-places before mentioned; but they never appeared to go to anybody, for he would put them into a secret place in his coat, and deliver them to himself weeks afterwards, very much to his own surprise, quite yellow. He was that sort of man that if he had died worth a million of money, or had died worth twopence halfpenny, everybody would have been perfectly satisfied, and would have said it was just as they expected. And yet he belonged to a class; a race peculiar to the City; who are secrets as profound to one another, as they are to the rest of mankind.
‘Mr Nadgett,’ said Montague, copying Jonas Chuzzlewit’s address upon a piece of paper, from the card which was still lying on the table, ‘any information about this name, I shall be glad to have myself. Don’t you mind what it is. Any you can scrape together, bring me. Bring it to me, Mr Nadgett.’
Nadgett put on his spectacles, and read the name attentively; then looked at the chairman over his glasses, and bowed; then took them off, and put them in their case; and then put the case in his pocket. When he had done so, he looked, without his spectacles, at the paper as it lay before him, and at the same time produced his pocket-book from somewhere about the middle of his spine. Large as it was, it was very full of documents, but he found a place for this one; and having clasped it carefully, passed it by a kind of solemn legerdemain into the same region as before.
He withdrew with another bow and without a word; opening the door no wider than was sufficient for his passage out; and shutting it as carefully as before. The chairman of the board employed the rest of the morning in affixing his sign-manual of gracious acceptance to various new proposals of annuity-purchase and assurance. The Company was looking up, for they flowed in gayly.
There were many powerful reasons for Jonas Chuzzlewit being strongly prepossessed in favour of the scheme which its great originator had so boldly laid open to him; but three among them stood prominently forward. Firstly, there was money to be made by it. Secondly, the money had the peculiar charm of being sagaciously obtained at other people’s cost. Thirdly, it involved much outward show of homage and distinction: a board being an awful institution in its own sphere, and a director a mighty man. ‘To make a swingeing profit, have a lot of chaps to order about, and get into regular good society by one and the same means, and them so easy to one’s hand, ain’t such a bad look-out,’ thought Jonas. The latter considerations were only second to his avarice; for, conscious that there was nothing in his person, conduct, character, or accomplishments, to command respect, he was greedy of power, and was, in his heart, as much a tyrant as any laureled conqueror on record.
But he determined to proceed with cunning and caution, and to be very keen on his observation of the gentility of Mr Montague’s private establishment. For it no more occurred to this shallow knave that Montague wanted him to be so, or he wouldn’t have invited him while his decision was yet in abeyance, than the possibility of that genius being able to overreach him in any way, pierced through his self-deceit by the inlet of a needle’s point. He had said, in the outset, that Jonas was too sharp for him; and Jonas, who would have been sharp enough to believe him in nothing else, though he had solemnly sworn it, believed him in that, instantly.
It was with a faltering hand, and yet with an imbecile attempt at a swagger, that he knocked at his new friend’s door in Pall Mall when the appointed hour arrived. Mr Bailey quickly answered to the summons. He was not proud and was kindly disposed to take notice of Jonas; but Jonas had forgotten him.
‘Mr Montague at home?’
‘I should hope he wos at home, and waiting dinner, too,’ said Bailey, with the ease of an old acquaintance. ‘Will you take your hat up along with you, or leave it here?’
Mr Jonas preferred leaving it there.
‘The hold name, I suppose?’ said Bailey, with a grin.
Mr Jonas stared at him in mute indignation.
‘What, don’t you remember hold mother Todgers’s?’ said Mr Bailey, with his favourite action of the knees and boots. ‘Don’t you remember my taking your name up to the young ladies, when you came a-courting there? A reg’lar scaly old shop, warn’t it? Times is changed ain’t they. I say how you’ve growed!’
Without pausing for any acknowledgement of this compliment, he ushered the visitor upstairs, and having announced him, retired with a private wink.
The lower story of the house was occupied by a wealthy tradesman, but Mr Montague had all the upper portion, and splendid lodging it was. The room in which he received Jonas was a spacious and elegant apartment, furnished with extreme magnificence; decorated with pictures, copies from the antique in alabaster and marble, china vases, lofty mirrors, crimson hangings of the richest silk, gilded carvings, luxurious couches, glistening cabinets inlaid with precious woods; costly toys of every sort in negligent abundance. The only guests besides Jonas were the doctor, the resident Director, and two other gentlemen, whom Montague presented in due form.
‘My dear friend, I am delighted to see you. Jobling you know, I believe?’
‘I think so,’ said the doctor pleasantly, as he stepped out of the circle to shake hands. ‘I trust I have the honour. I hope so. My dear sir, I see you well. Quite well?That’swell!’
‘Mr Wolf,’ said Montague, as soon as the doctor would allow him to introduce the two others, ‘Mr Chuzzlewit. Mr Pip, Mr Chuzzlewit.’
Both gentlemen were exceedingly happy to have the honour of making Mr Chuzzlewit’s acquaintance. The doctor drew Jonas a little apart, and whispered behind his hand:
‘Men of the world, my dear sir—men of the world. Hem! Mr Wolf—literary character—you needn’t mention it—remarkably clever weekly paper—oh, remarkably clever! Mr Pip—theatrical man—capital man to know—oh, capital man!’
‘Well!’ said Wolf, folding his arms and resuming a conversation which the arrival of Jonas had interrupted. ‘And what did Lord Nobley say to that?’
‘Why,’ returned Pip, with an oath. ‘He didn’t know what to say. Same, sir, if he wasn’t as mute as a poker. But you know what a good fellow Nobley is!’
‘The best fellow in the world!’ cried Wolf. ‘It as only last week that Nobley said to me, “By Gad, Wolf, I’ve got a living to bestow, and if you had but been brought up at the University, strike me blind if I wouldn’t have made a parson of you!”’
‘Just like him,’ said Pip with another oath. ‘And he’d have done it!’
‘Not a doubt of it,’ said Wolf. ‘But you were going to tell us—’
‘Oh, yes!’ cried Pip. ‘To be sure. So I was. At first he was dumb—sewn up, dead, sir—but after a minute he said to the Duke, “Here’s Pip. Ask Pip. Pip’s our mutual friend. Ask Pip. He knows.” “Damme!” said the Duke, “I appeal to Pip then. Come, Pip. Bandy or not bandy? Speak out!” “Bandy, your Grace, by the Lord Harry!” said I. “Ha, ha!” laughed the Duke. “To be sure she is. Bravo, Pip. Well said Pip. I wish I may die if you’re not a trump, Pip. Pop me down among your fashionable visitors whenever I’m in town, Pip.” And so I do, to this day.’
The conclusion of this story gave immense satisfaction, which was in no degree lessened by the announcement of dinner. Jonas repaired to the dining room, along with his distinguished host, and took his seat at the board between that individual and his friend the doctor. The rest fell into their places like men who were well accustomed to the house; and dinner was done full justice to, by all parties.
It was a good a one as money (or credit, no matter which) could produce. The dishes, wines, and fruits were of the choicest kind. Everything was elegantly served. The plate was gorgeous. Mr Jonas was in the midst of a calculation of the value of this item alone, when his host disturbed him.
‘A glass of wine?’
‘Oh!’ said Jonas, who had had several glasses already. ‘As much of that as you like! It’s too good to refuse.’
‘Well said, Mr Chuzzlewit!’ cried Wolf.
‘Tom Gag, upon my soul!’ said Pip.
‘Positively, you know, that’s—ha, ha, ha!’ observed the doctor, laying down his knife and fork for one instant, and then going to work again, pell-mell—‘that’s epigrammatic; quite!’
‘You’re tolerably comfortable, I hope?’ said Tigg, apart to Jonas.
‘Oh! You needn’t trouble your head aboutme,’ he replied, ‘Famous!’
‘I thought it best not to have a party,’ said Tigg. ‘You feel that?’
‘Why, what do you call this?’ retorted Jonas. ‘You don’t mean to say you do this every day, do you?’
‘My dear fellow,’ said Montague, shrugging his shoulders, ‘every day of my life, when I dine at home. This is my common style. It was of no use having anything uncommon for you. You’d have seen through it. “You’ll have a party?” said Crimple. “No, I won’t,” I said, “he shall take us in the rough!”
‘And pretty smooth, too, ecod!’ said Jonas, glancing round the table. ‘This don’t cost a trifle.’
‘Why, to be candid with you, it does not,’ returned the other. ‘But I like this sort of thing. It’s the way I spend my money.’
Jonas thrust his tongue into his cheek, and said, ‘Was it?’
‘When you join us, you won’t get rid of your share of the profits in the same way?’ said Tigg.
‘Quite different,’ retorted Jonas.
‘Well, and you’re right,’ said Tigg, with friendly candour. ‘You needn’t. It’s not necessary. One of a Company must do it to hold the connection together; but, as I take a pleasure in it, that’s my department. You don’t mind dining expensively at another man’s expense, I hope?’
‘Not a bit,’ said Jonas.
‘Then I hope you’ll often dine with me?’
‘Ah!’ said Jonas, ‘I don’t mind. On the contrary.’
‘And I’ll never attempt to talk business to you over wine, I take my oath,’ said Tigg. ‘Oh deep, deep, deep of you this morning! I must tell ‘em that. They’re the very men to enjoy it. Pip, my good fellow, I’ve a splendid little trait to tell you of my friend Chuzzlewit who is the deepest dog I know; I give you my sacred word of honour he is the deepest dog I know, Pip!’
Pip swore a frightful oath that he was sure of it already; and the anecdote, being told, was received with loud applause, as an incontestable proof of Mr Jonas’s greatness. Pip, in a natural spirit of emulation, then related some instances of his own depth; and Wolf not to be left behind-hand, recited the leading points of one or two vastly humorous articles he was then preparing. These lucubrations being of what he called ‘a warm complexion,’ were highly approved; and all the company agreed that they were full of point.
‘Men of the world, my dear sir,’ Jobling whispered to Jonas; ‘thorough men of the world! To a professional person like myself it’s quite refreshing to come into this kind of society. It’s not only agreeable—and nothingcanbe more agreeable—but it’s philosophically improving. It’s character, my dear sir; character!’
It is so pleasant to find real merit appreciated, whatever its particular walk in life may be, that the general harmony of the company was doubtless much promoted by their knowing that the two men of the world were held in great esteem by the upper classes of society, and by the gallant defenders of their country in the army and navy, but particularly the former. The least of their stories had a colonel in it; lords were as plentiful as oaths; and even the Blood Royal ran in the muddy channel of their personal recollections.
‘Mr Chuzzlewit didn’t know him, I’m afraid,’ said Wolf, in reference to a certain personage of illustrious descent, who had previously figured in a reminiscence.
‘No,’ said Tigg. ‘But we must bring him into contact with this sort of fellows.’
‘He was very fond of literature,’ observed Wolf.
‘Was he?’ said Tigg.
‘Oh, yes; he took my paper regularly for many years. Do you know he said some good things now and then? He asked a certain Viscount, who’s a friend of mine—Pip knows him—“What’s the editor’s name, what’s the editor’s name?” “Wolf.” “Wolf, eh? Sharp biter, Wolf. We must keep the Wolf from the door, as the proverb says.” It was very well. And being complimentary, I printed it.’
‘But the Viscount’s the boy!’ cried Pip, who invented a new oath for the introduction of everything he said. ‘The Viscount’s the boy! He came into our place one night to take Her home; rather slued, but not much; and said, “Where’s Pip? I want to see Pip. Produce Pip!”—“What’s the row, my lord?”—“Shakspeare’s an infernal humbug, Pip! What’s the good of Shakspeare, Pip? I never read him. What the devil is it all about, Pip? There’s a lot of feet in Shakspeare’s verse, but there an’t any legs worth mentioning in Shakspeare’s plays, are there, Pip? Juliet, Desdemona, Lady Macbeth, and all the rest of ‘em, whatever their names are, might as well have no legs at all, for anything the audience know about it, Pip. Why, in that respect they’re all Miss Biffins to the audience, Pip. I’ll tell you what it is. What the people call dramatic poetry is a collection of sermons. Do I go to the theatre to be lectured? No, Pip. If I wanted that, I’d go to church. What’s the legitimate object of the drama, Pip? Human nature. What are legs? Human nature. Then let us have plenty of leg pieces, Pip, and I’ll stand by you, my buck!” and I am proud to say,’ added Pip, ‘that hedidstand by me, handsomely.’
The conversation now becoming general, Mr Jonas’s opinion was requested on this subject; and as it was in full accordance with the sentiments of Mr Pip, that gentleman was extremely gratified. Indeed, both himself and Wolf had so much in common with Jonas, that they became very amicable; and between their increasing friendship and the fumes of wine, Jonas grew talkative.
It does not follow in the case of such a person that the more talkative he becomes, the more agreeable he is; on the contrary, his merits show to most advantage, perhaps, in silence. Having no means, as he thought, of putting himself on an equality with the rest, but by the assertion of that depth and sharpness on which he had been complimented, Jonas exhibited that faculty to the utmost; and was so deep and sharp that he lost himself in his own profundity, and cut his fingers with his own edge-tools.
It was especially in his way and character to exhibit his quality at his entertainer’s expense; and while he drank of his sparkling wines, and partook of his monstrous profusion, to ridicule the extravagance which had set such costly fare before him. Even at such a wanton board, and in such more than doubtful company, this might have proved a disagreeable experiment, but that Tigg and Crimple, studying to understand their man thoroughly, gave him what license he chose: knowing that the more he took, the better for their purpose. And thus while the blundering cheat—gull that he was, for all his cunning—thought himself rolled up hedgehog fashion, with his sharpest points towards them, he was, in fact, betraying all his vulnerable parts to their unwinking watchfulness.
Whether the two gentlemen who contributed so much to the doctor’s philosophical knowledge (by the way, the doctor slipped off quietly, after swallowing his usual amount of wine) had had their cue distinctly from the host, or took it from what they saw and heard, they acted their parts very well. They solicited the honour of Jonas’s better acquaintance; trusted that they would have the pleasure of introducing him into that elevated society in which he was so well qualified to shine; and informed him, in the most friendly manner that the advantages of their respective establishments were entirely at his control. In a word, they said ‘Be one of us!’ And Jonas said he was infinitely obliged to them, and he would be; adding within himself, that so long as they ‘stood treat,’ there was nothing he would like better.
After coffee, which was served in the drawing-room, there was a short interval (mainly sustained by Pip and Wolf) of conversation; rather highly spiced and strongly seasoned. When it flagged, Jonas took it up and showed considerable humour in appraising the furniture; inquiring whether such an article was paid for; what it had originally cost, and the like. In all of this, he was, as he considered, desperately hard on Montague, and very demonstrative of his own brilliant parts.
Some Champagne Punch gave a new though temporary fillip to the entertainments of the evening. For after leading to some noisy proceedings, which were not intelligible, it ended in the unsteady departure of the two gentlemen of the world, and the slumber of Mr Jonas upon one of the sofas.
As he could not be made to understand where he was, Mr Bailey received orders to call a hackney-coach, and take him home; which that young gentleman roused himself from an uneasy sleep in the hall to do. It being now almost three o’clock in the morning.
‘Is he hooked, do you think?’ whispered Crimple, as himself and partner stood in a distant part of the room observing him as he lay.
‘Aye!’ said Tigg, in the same tone. ‘With a strong iron, perhaps. Has Nadgett been here to-night?’
‘Yes. I went out to him. Hearing you had company, he went away.’
‘Why did he do that?’
‘He said he would come back early in the morning, before you were out of bed.’
‘Tell them to be sure and send him up to my bedside. Hush! Here’s the boy! Now Mr Bailey, take this gentleman home, and see him safely in. Hallo, here! Why Chuzzlewit, halloa!’
They got him upright with some difficulty, and assisted him downstairs, where they put his hat upon his head, and tumbled him into the coach. Mr Bailey, having shut him in, mounted the box beside the coachman, and smoked his cigar with an air of particular satisfaction; the undertaking in which he was engaged having a free and sporting character about it, which was quite congenial to his taste.
Arriving in due time at the house in the City, Mr Bailey jumped down, and expressed the lively nature of his feelings in a knock the like of which had probably not been heard in that quarter since the great fire of London. Going out into the road to observe the effect of this feat, he saw that a dim light, previously visible at an upper window, had been already removed and was travelling downstairs. To obtain a foreknowledge of the bearer of this taper, Mr Bailey skipped back to the door again, and put his eye to the keyhole.
It was the merry one herself. But sadly, strangely altered! So careworn and dejected, so faltering and full of fear; so fallen, humbled, broken; that to have seen her quiet in her coffin would have been a less surprise.
She set the light upon a bracket in the hall, and laid her hand upon her heart; upon her eyes; upon her burning head. Then she came on towards the door with such a wild and hurried step that Mr Bailey lost his self-possession, and still had his eye where the keyhole had been, when she opened it.
‘Aha!’ said Mr Bailey, with an effort. ‘There you are, are you? What’s the matter? Ain’t you well, though?’
In the midst of her astonishment as she recognized him in his altered dress, so much of her old smile came back to her face that Bailey was glad. But next moment he was sorry again, for he saw tears standing in her poor dim eyes.
‘Don’t be frightened,’ said Bailey. ‘There ain’t nothing the matter. I’ve brought home Mr Chuzzlewit. He ain’t ill. He’s only a little swipey, you know.’ Mr Bailey reeled in his boots, to express intoxication.
‘Have you come from Mrs Todgers’s?’ asked Merry, trembling.
‘Todgers’s, bless you! No!’ cried Mr Bailey. ‘I haven’t got nothin, to do with Todgers’s. I cut that connection long ago. He’s been a-dining with my governor at the west-end. Didn’t you know he was a-coming to see us?’
‘No,’ she said, faintly.
‘Oh yes! We’re heavy swells too, and so I tell you. Don’t you come out, a-catching cold in your head. I’ll wake him!’ Mr Bailey expressing in his demeanour a perfect confidence that he could carry him in with ease, if necessary, opened the coach door, let down the steps, and giving Jonas a shake, cried ‘We’ve got home, my flower! Tumble up, then!’
He was so far recovered as to be able to respond to this appeal, and to come stumbling out of the coach in a heap, to the great hazard of Mr Bailey’s person. When he got upon the pavement, Mr Bailey first butted at him in front, and then dexterously propped him up behind; and having steadied him by these means, he assisted him into the house.
‘You go up first with the light,’ said Bailey to Mr Jonas, ‘and we’ll foller. Don’t tremble so. He won’t hurt you. When I’ve had a drop too much, I’m full of good natur myself.’
She went on before; and her husband and Bailey, by dint of tumbling over each other, and knocking themselves about, got at last into the sitting-room above stairs, where Jonas staggered into a seat.
‘There!’ said Mr Bailey. ‘He’s all right now. You ain’t got nothing to cry for, bless you! He’s righter than a trivet!’
The ill-favoured brute, with dress awry, and sodden face, and rumpled hair, sat blinking and drooping, and rolling his idiotic eyes about, until, becoming conscious by degrees, he recognized his wife, and shook his fist at her.
‘Ah!’ cried Mr Bailey, squaring his arms with a sudden emotion. ‘What, you’re wicious, are you? Would you though! You’d better not!’
‘Pray, go away!’ said Merry. ‘Bailey, my good boy, go home. Jonas!’ she said; timidly laying her hand upon his shoulder, and bending her head down over him. ‘Jonas!’
‘Look at her!’ cried Jonas, pushing her off with his extended arm. ‘Look here! Look at her! Here’s a bargain for a man!’
‘Dear Jonas!’
‘Dear Devil!’ he replied, with a fierce gesture. ‘You’re a pretty clog to be tied to a man for life, you mewling, white-faced cat! Get out of my sight!’
‘I know you don’t mean it, Jonas. You wouldn’t say it if you were sober.’
With affected gayety she gave Bailey a piece of money, and again implored him to be gone. Her entreaty was so earnest, that the boy had not the heart to stay there. But he stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and listened.
‘I wouldn’t say it if I was sober!’ retorted Jonas. ‘You know better. Have I never said it when I was sober?’
‘Often, indeed!’ she answered through her tears.
‘Hark ye!’ cried Jonas, stamping his foot upon the ground. ‘You made me bear your pretty humours once, and ecod I’ll make you bear mine now. I always promised myself I would. I married you that I might. I’ll know who’s master, and who’s slave!’
‘Heaven knows I am obedient!’ said the sobbing girl. ‘Much more so than I ever thought to be!’
Jonas laughed in his drunken exultation. ‘What! you’re finding it out, are you! Patience, and you will in time! Griffins have claws, my girl. There’s not a pretty slight you ever put upon me, nor a pretty trick you ever played me, nor a pretty insolence you ever showed me, that I won’t pay back a hundred-fold. What else did I marry you for?you, too!’ he said, with coarse contempt.
It might have softened him—indeed it might—to hear her turn a little fragment of a song he used to say he liked; trying, with a heart so full, to win him back.
‘Oho!’ he said, ‘you’re deaf, are you? You don’t hear me, eh? So much the better for you. I hate you. I hate myself, for having, been fool enough to strap a pack upon my back for the pleasure of treading on it whenever I choose. Why, things have opened to me, now, so that I might marry almost where I liked. But I wouldn’t; I’d keep single. I ought to be single, among the friends I know. Instead of that, here I am, tied like a log to you. Pah! Why do you show your pale face when I come home? Am I never to forget you?’
‘How late it is!’ she said cheerfully, opening the shutter after an interval of silence. ‘Broad day, Jonas!’
‘Broad day or black night, what do I care!’ was the kind rejoinder.
‘The night passed quickly, too. I don’t mind sitting up, at all.’
‘Sit up for me again, if you dare!’ growled Jonas.
‘I was reading,’ she proceeded, ‘all night long. I began when you went out, and read till you came home again. The strangest story, Jonas! And true, the book says. I’ll tell it you to-morrow.’
‘True, was it?’ said Jonas, doggedly.
‘So the book says.’
‘Was there anything in it, about a man’s being determined to conquer his wife, break her spirit, bend her temper, crush all her humours like so many nut-shells—kill her, for aught I know?’ said Jonas.
‘No. Not a word,’ she answered quickly.
‘Oh!’ he returned. ‘That’ll be a true story though, before long; for all the book says nothing about it. It’s a lying book, I see. A fit book for a lying reader. But you’re deaf. I forgot that.’
There was another interval of silence; and the boy was stealing away, when he heard her footstep on the floor, and stopped. She went up to him, as it seemed, and spoke lovingly; saying that she would defer to him in everything and would consult his wishes and obey them, and they might be very happy if he would be gentle with her. He answered with an imprecation, and—
Not with a blow? Yes. Stern truth against the base-souled villain; with a blow.
No angry cries; no loud reproaches. Even her weeping and her sobs were stifled by her clinging round him. She only said, repeating it in agony of heart, how could he, could he, could he—and lost utterance in tears.
Oh woman, God beloved in old Jerusalem! The best among us need deal lightly with thy faults, if only for the punishment thy nature will endure, in bearing heavy evidence against us, on the Day of Judgment!