Dombey and Son
Paul was dreadfully frightened; but still he made a stand for the
absent Glubb, though he did it trembling.
“He’s a very nice old man, Ma’am,” he said. “He used to draw my couch.
He knows all about the deep sea, and the fish that are in it, and the
great monsters that come and lie on rocks in the sun, and dive into the
water again when they’re startled, blowing and splashing so, that they
can be heard for miles. There are some creatures, said Paul, warming
with his subject, “I don’t know how many yards long, and I forget their
names, but Florence knows, that pretend to be in distress; and when a
man goes near them, out of compassion, they open their great jaws, and
attack him. But all he has got to do,” said Paul, boldly tendering this
information to the very Doctor himself, “is to keep on turning as he
runs away, and then, as they turn slowly, because they are so long, and
can’t bend, he’s sure to beat them. And though old Glubb don’t know why
the sea should make me think of my Mama that’s dead, or what it is that
it is always saying—always saying! he knows a great deal about it. And
I wish,” the child concluded, with a sudden falling of his countenance,
and failing in his animation, as he looked like one forlorn, upon the
three strange faces, “that you’d let old Glubb come here to see me, for
I know him very well, and he knows me.”
“Ha!” said the Doctor, shaking his head; “this is bad, but study will
do much.”
Mrs Blimber opined, with something like a shiver, that he was an
unaccountable child; and, allowing for the difference of visage, looked
at him pretty much as Mrs Pipchin had been used to do.
“Take him round the house, Cornelia,” said the Doctor, “and familiarise
him with his new sphere. Go with that young lady, Dombey.”
Dombey obeyed; giving his hand to the abstruse Cornelia, and looking at
her sideways, with timid curiosity, as they went away together. For her
spectacles, by reason of the glistening of the glasses, made her so
mysterious, that he didn’t know where she was looking, and was not
indeed quite sure that she had any eyes at all behind them.
Cornelia took him first to the schoolroom, which was situated at the
back of the hall, and was approached through two baize doors, which
deadened and muffled the young gentlemen’s voices. Here, there were
eight young gentlemen in various stages of mental prostration, all very
hard at work, and very grave indeed. Toots, as an old hand, had a desk
to himself in one corner: and a magnificent man, of immense age, he
looked, in Paul’s young eyes, behind it.
Mr Feeder, B.A., who sat at another little desk, had his Virgil stop
on, and was slowly grinding that tune to four young gentlemen. Of the
remaining four, two, who grasped their foreheads convulsively, were
engaged in solving mathematical problems; one with his face like a
dirty window, from much crying, was endeavouring to flounder through a
hopeless number of lines before dinner; and one sat looking at his task
in stony stupefaction and despair—which it seemed had been his
condition ever since breakfast time.
The appearance of a new boy did not create the sensation that might
have been expected. Mr Feeder, B.A. (who was in the habit of shaving
his head for coolness, and had nothing but little bristles on it), gave
him a bony hand, and told him he was glad to see him—which Paul would
have been very glad to have told him, if he could have done so with the
least sincerity. Then Paul, instructed by Cornelia, shook hands with
the four young gentlemen at Mr Feeder’s desk; then with the two young
gentlemen at work on the problems, who were very feverish; then with
the young gentleman at work against time, who was very inky; and lastly
with the young gentleman in a state of stupefaction, who was flabby and
quite cold.
Paul having been already introduced to Toots, that pupil merely
chuckled and breathed hard, as his custom was, and pursued the
occupation in which he was engaged. It was not a severe one; for on
account of his having “gone through” so much (in more senses than one),
and also of his having, as before hinted, left off blowing in his
prime, Toots now had licence to pursue his own course of study: which
was chiefly to write long letters to himself from persons of
distinction, adds “P. Toots, Esquire, Brighton, Sussex,” and to
preserve them in his desk with great care.
These ceremonies passed, Cornelia led Paul upstairs to the top of the
house; which was rather a slow journey, on account of Paul being
obliged to land both feet on every stair, before he mounted another.
But they reached their journey’s end at last; and there, in a front
room, looking over the wild sea, Cornelia showed him a nice little bed
with white hangings, close to the window, on which there was already
beautifully written on a card in round text—down strokes very thick,
and up strokes very fine—DOMBEY; while two other little bedsteads in
the same room were announced, through like means, as respectively
appertaining unto BRIGGS and TOZER.
Just as they got downstairs again into the hall, Paul saw the weak-eyed
young man who had given that mortal offence to Mrs Pipchin, suddenly
seize a very large drumstick, and fly at a gong that was hanging up, as
if he had gone mad, or wanted vengeance. Instead of receiving warning,
however, or being instantly taken into custody, the young man left off
unchecked, after having made a dreadful noise. Then Cornelia Blimber
said to Dombey that dinner would be ready in a quarter of an hour, and
perhaps he had better go into the schoolroom among his “friends.”
So Dombey, deferentially passing the great clock which was still as
anxious as ever to know how he found himself, opened the schoolroom
door a very little way, and strayed in like a lost boy: shutting it
after him with some difficulty. His friends were all dispersed about
the room except the stony friend, who remained immoveable. Mr Feeder
was stretching himself in his grey gown, as if, regardless of expense,
he were resolved to pull the sleeves off.
“Heigh ho hum!” cried Mr Feeder, shaking himself like a cart-horse. “Oh
dear me, dear me! Ya-a-a-ah!”
Paul was quite alarmed by Mr Feeder’s yawning; it was done on such a
great scale, and he was so terribly in earnest. All the boys too (Toots
excepted) seemed knocked up, and were getting ready for dinner—some
newly tying their neckcloths, which were very stiff indeed; and others
washing their hands or brushing their hair, in an adjoining
ante-chamber—as if they didn’t think they should enjoy it at all.
Young Toots who was ready beforehand, and had therefore nothing to do,
and had leisure to bestow upon Paul, said, with heavy good nature:
“Sit down, Dombey.”
“Thank you, Sir,” said Paul.
His endeavouring to hoist himself on to a very high window-seat, and
his slipping down again, appeared to prepare Toots’s mind for the
reception of a discovery.
“You’re a very small chap;” said Mr Toots.
“Yes, Sir, I’m small,” returned Paul. “Thank you, Sir.”
For Toots had lifted him into the seat, and done it kindly too.
“Who’s your tailor?” inquired Toots, after looking at him for some
moments.
“It’s a woman that has made my clothes as yet,” said Paul. “My sister’s
dressmaker.”
“My tailor’s Burgess and Co.,” said Toots. “Fash’nable. But very dear.”
Paul had wit enough to shake his head, as if he would have said it was
easy to see that; and indeed he thought so.
“Your father’s regularly rich, ain’t he?” inquired Mr Toots.
“Yes, Sir,” said Paul. “He’s Dombey and Son.”
“And which?” demanded Toots.
“And Son, Sir,” replied Paul.
Mr Toots made one or two attempts, in a low voice, to fix the Firm in
his mind; but not quite succeeding, said he would get Paul to mention
the name again to-morrow morning, as it was rather important. And
indeed he purposed nothing less than writing himself a private and
confidential letter from Dombey and Son immediately.
By this time the other pupils (always excepting the stony boy) gathered
round. They were polite, but pale; and spoke low; and they were so
depressed in their spirits, that in comparison with the general tone of
that company, Master Bitherstone was a perfect Miller, or complete Jest
Book.” And yet he had a sense of injury upon him, too, had Bitherstone.
“You sleep in my room, don’t you?” asked a solemn young gentleman,
whose shirt-collar curled up the lobes of his ears.
“Master Briggs?” inquired Paul.
“Tozer,” said the young gentleman.
Paul answered yes; and Tozer pointing out the stony pupil, said that
was Briggs. Paul had already felt certain that it must be either Briggs
or Tozer, though he didn’t know why.
“Is yours a strong constitution?” inquired Tozer.
Paul said he thought not. Tozer replied that he thought not also,
judging from Paul’s looks, and that it was a pity, for it need be. He
then asked Paul if he were going to begin with Cornelia; and on Paul
saying “yes,” all the young gentlemen (Briggs excepted) gave a low
groan.
It was drowned in the tintinnabulation of the gong, which sounding
again with great fury, there was a general move towards the
dining-room; still excepting Briggs the stony boy, who remained where
he was, and as he was; and on its way to whom Paul presently
encountered a round of bread, genteelly served on a plate and napkin,
and with a silver fork lying crosswise on the top of it. Doctor Blimber
was already in his place in the dining-room, at the top of the table,
with Miss Blimber and Mrs Blimber on either side of him. Mr Feeder in a
black coat was at the bottom. Paul’s chair was next to Miss Blimber;
but it being found, when he sat in it, that his eyebrows were not much
above the level of the table-cloth, some books were brought in from the
Doctor’s study, on which he was elevated, and on which he always sat
from that time— carrying them in and out himself on after occasions,
like a little elephant and castle.
Grace having been said by the Doctor, dinner began. There was some nice
soup; also roast meat, boiled meat, vegetables, pie, and cheese. Every
young gentleman had a massive silver fork, and a napkin; and all the
arrangements were stately and handsome. In particular, there was a
butler in a blue coat and bright buttons, who gave quite a winey
flavour to the table beer; he poured it out so superbly.
Nobody spoke, unless spoken to, except Doctor Blimber, Mrs Blimber, and
Miss Blimber, who conversed occasionally. Whenever a young gentleman
was not actually engaged with his knife and fork or spoon, his eye,
with an irresistible attraction, sought the eye of Doctor Blimber, Mrs
Blimber, or Miss Blimber, and modestly rested there. Toots appeared to
be the only exception to this rule. He sat next Mr Feeder on Paul’s
side of the table, and frequently looked behind and before the
intervening boys to catch a glimpse of Paul.
Only once during dinner was there any conversation that included the
young gentlemen. It happened at the epoch of the cheese, when the
Doctor, having taken a glass of port wine, and hemmed twice or thrice,
said:
“It is remarkable, Mr Feeder, that the Romans—”
At the mention of this terrible people, their implacable enemies, every
young gentleman fastened his gaze upon the Doctor, with an assumption
of the deepest interest. One of the number who happened to be drinking,
and who caught the Doctor’s eye glaring at him through the side of his
tumbler, left off so hastily that he was convulsed for some moments,
and in the sequel ruined Doctor Blimber’s point.
“It is remarkable, Mr Feeder,” said the Doctor, beginning again slowly,
“that the Romans, in those gorgeous and profuse entertainments of which
we read in the days of the Emperors, when luxury had attained a height