Martin Chuzzlewit
waiting in the cold, and his straggling red whiskers and frowzy hair
being more than usually dishevelled from the same cause, he certainly
looked rather unwholesome and uncomfortable than Shakspearian or
Miltonic.
‘Now,’ said Mr Tigg, clapping one hand on the shoulder of his
prepossessing friend, and calling Mr Pecksniff’s attention to him with
the other, ‘you two are related; and relations never did agree, and
never will; which is a wise dispensation and an inevitable thing, or
there would be none but family parties, and everybody in the world
would bore everybody else to death. If you were on good terms, I should
consider you a most confoundedly unnatural pair; but standing
towards each other as you do, I took upon you as a couple of devilish
deep-thoughted fellows, who may be reasoned with to any extent.’
Here Mr Chevy Slyme, whose great abilities seemed one and all to point
towards the sneaking quarter of the moral compass, nudged his friend
stealthily with his elbow, and whispered in his ear.
‘Chiv,’ said Mr Tigg aloud, in the high tone of one who was not to
be tampered with. ‘I shall come to that presently. I act upon my own
responsibility, or not at all. To the extent of such a trifling loan
as a crownpiece to a man of your talents, I look upon Mr Pecksniff
as certain;’ and seeing at this juncture that the expression of Mr
Pecksniff’s face by no means betokened that he shared this certainty, Mr
Tigg laid his finger on his nose again for that gentleman’s private
and especial behoof; calling upon him thereby to take notice that the
requisition of small loans was another instance of the peculiarities of
genius as developed in his friend Slyme; that he, Tigg, winked at the
same, because of the strong metaphysical interest which these weaknesses
possessed; and that in reference to his own personal advocacy of such
small advances, he merely consulted the humour of his friend, without
the least regard to his own advantage or necessities.
‘Oh, Chiv, Chiv!’ added Mr Tigg, surveying his adopted brother with an
air of profound contemplation after dismissing this piece of pantomime.
‘You are, upon my life, a strange instance of the little frailties that
beset a mighty mind. If there had never been a telescope in the world,
I should have been quite certain from my observation of you, Chiv,
that there were spots on the sun! I wish I may die, if this isn’t the
queerest state of existence that we find ourselves forced into without
knowing why or wherefore, Mr Pecksniff! Well, never mind! Moralise as we
will, the world goes on. As Hamlet says, Hercules may lay about him with
his club in every possible direction, but he can’t prevent the cats from
making a most intolerable row on the roofs of the houses, or the
dogs from being shot in the hot weather if they run about the streets
unmuzzled. Life’s a riddle; a most infernally hard riddle to guess, Mr
Pecksniff. My own opinions, that like that celebrated conundrum, “Why’s
a man in jail like a man out of jail?” there’s no answer to it. Upon my
soul and body, it’s the queerest sort of thing altogether--but there’s
no use in talking about it. Ha! Ha!’
With which consolatory deduction from the gloomy premises recited,
Mr Tigg roused himself by a great effort, and proceeded in his former
strain.
‘Now I’ll tell you what it is. I’m a most confoundedly soft-hearted
kind of fellow in my way, and I cannot stand by, and see you two blades
cutting each other’s throats when there’s nothing to be got by it. Mr
Pecksniff, you’re the cousin of the testator upstairs and we’re the
nephew--I say we, meaning Chiv. Perhaps in all essential points you are
more nearly related to him than we are. Very good. If so, so be it. But
you can’t get at him, neither can we. I give you my brightest word of
honour, sir, that I’ve been looking through that keyhole with short
intervals of rest, ever since nine o’clock this morning, in expectation
of receiving an answer to one of the most moderate and gentlemanly
applications for a little temporary assistance--only fifteen pounds, and
MY security--that the mind of man can conceive. In the meantime, sir, he
is perpetually closeted with, and pouring his whole confidence into the
bosom of, a stranger. Now I say decisively with regard to this state of
circumstances, that it won’t do; that it won’t act; that it can’t be;
and that it must not be suffered to continue.’
‘Every man,’ said Mr Pecksniff, ‘has a right, an undoubted right, (which
I, for one, would not call in question for any earthly consideration; oh
no!) to regulate his own proceedings by his own likings and dislikings,
supposing they are not immoral and not irreligious. I may feel in my
own breast, that Mr Chuzzlewit does not regard--me, for instance; say
me--with exactly that amount of Christian love which should subsist
between us. I may feel grieved and hurt at the circumstance; still I
may not rush to the conclusion that Mr Chuzzlewit is wholly without a
justification in all his coldnesses. Heaven forbid! Besides; how, Mr
Tigg,’ continued Pecksniff even more gravely and impressively than he
had spoken yet, ‘how could Mr Chuzzlewit be prevented from having these
peculiar and most extraordinary confidences of which you speak; the
existence of which I must admit; and which I cannot but deplore--for
his sake? Consider, my good sir--’ and here Mr Pecksniff eyed him
wistfully--‘how very much at random you are talking.’
‘Why, as to that,’ rejoined Tigg, ‘it certainly is a difficult
question.’
‘Undoubtedly it is a difficult question,’ Mr Pecksniff answered. As he
spoke he drew himself aloft, and seemed to grow more mindful, suddenly,
of the moral gulf between himself and the creature he addressed.
‘Undoubtedly it is a very difficult question. And I am far from feeling
sure that it is a question any one is authorized to discuss. Good
evening to you.’
‘You don’t know that the Spottletoes are here, I suppose?’ said Mr Tigg.
‘What do you mean, sir? what Spottletoes?’ asked Pecksniff, stopping
abruptly on his way to the door.
‘Mr and Mrs Spottletoe,’ said Chevy Slyme, Esquire, speaking aloud for
the first time, and speaking very sulkily; shambling with his legs the
while. ‘Spottletoe married my father’s brother’s child, didn’t he?
And Mrs Spottletoe is Chuzzlewit’s own niece, isn’t she? She was his
favourite once. You may well ask what Spottletoes.’
‘Now upon my sacred word!’ cried Mr Pecksniff, looking upwards. ‘This is
dreadful. The rapacity of these people is absolutely frightful!’
‘It’s not only the Spottletoes either, Tigg,’ said Slyme, looking at
that gentleman and speaking at Mr Pecksniff. ‘Anthony Chuzzlewit and his
son have got wind of it, and have come down this afternoon. I saw ‘em
not five minutes ago, when I was waiting round the corner.’
‘Oh, Mammon, Mammon!’ cried Mr Pecksniff, smiting his forehead.
‘So there,’ said Slyme, regardless of the interruption, ‘are his brother
and another nephew for you, already.’
‘This is the whole thing, sir,’ said Mr Tigg; ‘this is the point and
purpose at which I was gradually arriving when my friend Slyme here,
with six words, hit it full. Mr Pecksniff, now that your cousin (and
Chiv’s uncle) has turned up, some steps must be taken to prevent his
disappearing again; and, if possible, to counteract the influence which
is exercised over him now, by this designing favourite. Everybody who
is interested feels it, sir. The whole family is pouring down to this
place. The time has come when individual jealousies and interests must
be forgotten for a time, sir, and union must be made against the
common enemy. When the common enemy is routed, you will all set up for
yourselves again; every lady and gentleman who has a part in the game,
will go in on their own account and bowl away, to the best of their
ability, at the testator’s wicket, and nobody will be in a worse
position than before. Think of it. Don’t commit yourself now. You’ll
find us at the Half Moon and Seven Stars in this village, at any time,
and open to any reasonable proposition. Hem! Chiv, my dear fellow, go
out and see what sort of a night it is.’
Mr Slyme lost no time in disappearing, and it is to be presumed in going
round the corner. Mr Tigg, planting his legs as wide apart as he could
be reasonably expected by the most sanguine man to keep them, shook his
head at Mr Pecksniff and smiled.
‘We must not be too hard,’ he said, ‘upon the little eccentricities of
our friend Slyme. You saw him whisper me?’
Mr Pecksniff had seen him.
‘You heard my answer, I think?’
Mr Pecksniff had heard it.
‘Five shillings, eh?’ said Mr Tigg, thoughtfully. ‘Ah! what an
extraordinary fellow! Very moderate too!’
Mr Pecksniff made no answer.
‘Five shillings!’ pursued Mr Tigg, musing; ‘and to be punctually repaid
next week; that’s the best of it. You heard that?’
Mr Pecksniff had not heard that.
‘No! You surprise me!’ cried Tigg. ‘That’s the cream of the thing sir. I
never knew that man fail to redeem a promise, in my life. You’re not in
want of change, are you?’
‘No,’ said Mr Pecksniff, ‘thank you. Not at all.’
‘Just so,’ returned Mr Tigg. ‘If you had been, I’d have got it for you.’
With that he began to whistle; but a dozen seconds had not elapsed when
he stopped short, and looking earnestly at Mr Pecksniff, said:
‘Perhaps you’d rather not lend Slyme five shillings?’
‘I would much rather not,’ Mr Pecksniff rejoined.
‘Egad!’ cried Tigg, gravely nodding his head as if some ground of
objection occurred to him at that moment for the first time, ‘it’s
very possible you may be right. Would you entertain the same sort of
objection to lending me five shillings now?’
‘Yes, I couldn’t do it, indeed,’ said Mr Pecksniff.
‘Not even half-a-crown, perhaps?’ urged Mr Tigg.
‘Not even half-a-crown.’
‘Why, then we come,’ said Mr Tigg, ‘to the ridiculously small amount of
eighteen pence. Ha! ha!’
‘And that,’ said Mr Pecksniff, ‘would be equally objectionable.’
On receipt of this assurance, Mr Tigg shook him heartily by both hands,
protesting with much earnestness, that he was one of the most consistent
and remarkable men he had ever met, and that he desired the honour
of his better acquaintance. He moreover observed that there were many
little characteristics about his friend Slyme, of which he could by no
means, as a man of strict honour, approve; but that he was prepared to
forgive him all these slight drawbacks, and much more, in consideration
of the great pleasure he himself had that day enjoyed in his social
intercourse with Mr Pecksniff, which had given him a far higher and more
enduring delight than the successful negotiation of any small loan on
the part of his friend could possibly have imparted. With which remarks
he would beg leave, he said, to wish Mr Pecksniff a very good evening.
And so he took himself off; as little abashed by his recent failure as
any gentleman would desire to be.
The meditations of Mr Pecksniff that evening at the bar of the Dragon,
and that night in his own house, were very serious and grave indeed; the
more especially as the intelligence he had received from Messrs Tigg and
Slyme touching the arrival of other members of the family, were fully
confirmed on more particular inquiry. For the Spottletoes had actually
gone straight to the Dragon, where they were at that moment housed and
mounting guard, and where their appearance had occasioned such a vast
sensation that Mrs Lupin, scenting their errand before they had been
under her roof half an hour, carried the news herself with all possible
secrecy straight to Mr Pecksniff’s house; indeed it was her great
caution in doing so which occasioned her to miss that gentleman, who
entered at the front door of the Dragon just as she emerged from