Martin Chuzzlewit
‘I was going to see if I could find your sister,’ answered Tom, ‘to whom
I wished to say a few words. We were going to Mrs Todgers’s, where I had
the pleasure of seeing her before.’
‘It’s of no use your going on, then,’ said Cherry, ‘for we have not
long left there; and I know she is not at home. But I’ll take you to my
sister’s house, if you please. Augustus--Mr Moddle, I mean--and myself,
are on our way to tea there, now. You needn’t think of HIM,’ she added,
nodding her head as she observed some hesitation on Tom’s part. ‘He is
not at home.’
‘Are you sure?’ asked Tom.
‘Oh, I am quite sure of that. I don’t want any MORE revenge,’ said Miss
Pecksniff, expressively. ‘But, really, I must beg you two gentlemen to
walk on, and allow me to follow with Miss Pinch. My dear, I never was so
taken by surprise!’
In furtherance of this bashful arrangement, Moddle gave his arm to Tom;
and Miss Pecksniff linked her own in Ruth’s.
‘Of course, my love,’ said Miss Pecksniff, ‘it would be useless for me
to disguise, after what you have seen, that I am about to be united to
the gentleman who is walking with your brother. It would be in vain
to conceal it. What do you think of him? Pray, let me have your candid
opinion.’
Ruth intimated that, as far as she could judge, he was a very eligible
swain.
‘I am curious to know,’ said Miss Pecksniff, with loquacious frankness,
‘whether you have observed, or fancied, in this very short space of
time, that he is of a rather melancholy turn?’
‘So very short a time,’ Ruth pleaded.
‘No, no; but don’t let that interfere with your answer,’ returned Miss
Pecksniff. ‘I am curious to hear what you say.’
Ruth acknowledged that he had impressed her at first sight as looking
‘rather low.’
‘No, really?’ said Miss Pecksniff. ‘Well! that is quite remarkable!
Everybody says the same. Mrs Todgers says the same; and Augustus informs
me that it is quite a joke among the gentlemen in the house. Indeed, but
for the positive commands I have laid upon him, I believe it would have
been the occasion of loaded fire-arms being resorted to more than once.
What do you think is the cause of his appearance of depression?’
Ruth thought of several things; such as his digestion, his tailor, his
mother, and the like. But hesitating to give utterance to any one of
them, she refrained from expressing an opinion.
‘My dear,’ said Miss Pecksniff; ‘I shouldn’t wish it to be known, but I
don’t mind mentioning it to you, having known your brother for so many
years--I refused Augustus three times. He is of a most amiable and
sensitive nature, always ready to shed tears if you look at him, which
is extremely charming; and he has never recovered the effect of that
cruelty. For it WAS cruel,’ said Miss Pecksniff, with a self-conviction
candour that might have adorned the diadem of her own papa. ‘There is
no doubt of it. I look back upon my conduct now with blushes. I always
liked him. I felt that he was not to me what the crowd of young men who
had made proposals had been, but something very different. Then what
right had I to refuse him three times?’
‘It was a severe trial of his fidelity, no doubt,’ said Ruth.
‘My dear,’ returned Miss Pecksniff. ‘It was wrong. But such is the
caprice and thoughtlessness of our sex! Let me be a warning to you.
Don’t try the feelings of any one who makes you an offer, as I have
tried the feelings of Augustus; but if you ever feel towards a person
as I really felt towards him, at the very time when I was driving him
to distraction, let that feeling find expression, if that person throws
himself at your feet, as Augustus Moddle did at mine. Think,’ said Miss
Pecksniff, ‘what my feelings would have been, if I had goaded him to
suicide, and it had got into the papers!’
Ruth observed that she would have been full of remorse, no doubt.
‘Remorse!’ cried Miss Pecksniff, in a sort of snug and comfortable
penitence. ‘What my remorse is at this moment, even after making
reparation by accepting him, it would be impossible to tell you! Looking
back upon my giddy self, my dear, now that I am sobered down and
made thoughtful, by treading on the very brink of matrimony; and
contemplating myself as I was when I was like what you are now; I
shudder. I shudder. What is the consequence of my past conduct? Until
Augustus leads me to the altar he is not sure of me. I have blighted and
withered the affections of his heart to that extent that he is not sure
of me. I see that preying on his mind and feeding on his vitals. What
are the reproaches of my conscience, when I see this in the man I love!’
Ruth endeavoured to express some sense of her unbounded and flattering
confidence; and presumed that she was going to be married soon.
‘Very soon indeed,’ returned Miss Pecksniff. ‘As soon as our house is
ready. We are furnishing now as fast as we can.’
In the same vein of confidence Miss Pecksniff ran through a general
inventory of the articles that were already bought with the articles
that remained to be purchased; what garments she intended to be married
in, and where the ceremony was to be performed; and gave Miss Pinch, in
short (as she told her), early and exclusive information on all points
of interest connected with the event.
While this was going forward in the rear, Tom and Mr Moddle walked on,
arm in arm, in the front, in a state of profound silence, which Tom at
last broke; after thinking for a long time what he could say that should
refer to an indifferent topic, in respect of which he might rely, with
some degree of certainty, on Mr Moddle’s bosom being unruffled.
‘I wonder,’ said Tom, ‘that in these crowded streets the foot-passengers
are not oftener run over.’
Mr Moddle, with a dark look, replied:
‘The drivers won’t do it.’
‘Do you mean?’ Tom began--
‘That there are some men,’ interrupted Moddle, with a hollow laugh, ‘who
can’t get run over. They live a charmed life. Coal waggons recoil from
them, and even cabs refuse to run them down. Ah!’ said Augustus, marking
Tom’s astonishment. ‘There are such men. One of ‘em is a friend of
mine.’
‘Upon my word and honour,’ thought Tom, ‘this young gentleman is in
a state of mind which is very serious indeed!’ Abandoning all idea of
conversation, he did not venture to say another word, but he was careful
to keep a tight hold upon Augustus’s arm, lest he should fly into the
road, and making another and a more successful attempt, should get up a
private little Juggernaut before the eyes of his betrothed. Tom was
so afraid of his committing this rash act, that he had scarcely ever
experienced such mental relief as when they arrived in safety at Mrs
Jonas Chuzzlewit’s house.
‘Walk up, pray, Mr Pinch,’ said Miss Pecksniff. For Tom halted,
irresolutely, at the door.
‘I am doubtful whether I should be welcome,’ replied Tom, ‘or, I ought
rather to say, I have no doubt about it. I will send up a message, I
think.’
‘But what nonsense that is!’ returned Miss Pecksniff, speaking apart
to Tom. ‘He is not at home, I am certain. I know he is not; and Merry
hasn’t the least idea that you ever--’
‘No,’ interrupted Tom. ‘Nor would I have her know it, on any account. I
am not so proud of that scuffle, I assure you.’
‘Ah, but then you are so modest, you see,’ returned Miss Pecksniff, with
a smile. ‘But pray walk up. If you don’t wish her to know it, and do
wish to speak to her, pray walk up. Pray walk up, Miss Pinch. Don’t
stand here.’
Tom still hesitated for he felt that he was in an awkward position. But
Cherry passing him at this juncture, and leading his sister upstairs,
and the house-door being at the same time shut behind them, he followed
without quite knowing whether it was well or ill-judged so to do.
‘Merry, my darling!’ said the fair Miss Pecksniff, opening the door of
the usual sitting-room. ‘Here are Mr Pinch and his sister come to see
you! I thought we should find you here, Mrs Todgers! How do you do, Mrs
Gamp? And how do you do, Mr Chuffey, though it’s of no use asking you
the question, I am well aware.’
Honouring each of these parties, as she severally addressed them, with
an acid smile, Miss Charity presented ‘Mr Moddle.’
‘I believe you have seen HIM before,’ she pleasantly observed.
‘Augustus, my sweet child, bring me a chair.’
The sweet child did as he was told; and was then about to retire into a
corner to mourn in secret, when Miss Charity, calling him in an audible
whisper a ‘little pet,’ gave him leave to come and sit beside her. It
is to be hoped, for the general cheerfulness of mankind, that such a
doleful little pet was never seen as Mr Moddle looked when he complied.
So despondent was his temper, that he showed no outward thrill of
ecstasy when Miss Pecksniff placed her lily hand in his, and concealed
this mark of her favour from the vulgar gaze by covering it with a
corner of her shawl. Indeed, he was infinitely more rueful then than
he had been before; and, sitting uncomfortably upright in his chair,
surveyed the company with watery eyes, which seemed to say, without
the aid of language, ‘Oh, good gracious! look here! Won’t some kind
Christian help me!’
But the ecstasies of Mrs Gamp were sufficient to have furnished forth
a score of young lovers; and they were chiefly awakened by the sight of
Tom Pinch and his sister. Mrs Gamp was a lady of that happy temperament
which can be ecstatic without any other stimulating cause than a general
desire to establish a large and profitable connection. She added daily
so many strings to her bow, that she made a perfect harp of it; and upon
that instrument she now began to perform an extemporaneous concerto.
‘Why, goodness me!’ she said, ‘Mrs Chuzzlewit! To think as I should see
beneath this blessed ‘ouse, which well I know it, Miss Pecksniff, my
sweet young lady, to be a ‘ouse as there is not a many like, worse luck,
and wishin’ it were not so, which then this tearful walley would be
changed into a flowerin’ guardian, Mr Chuffey; to think as I should see
beneath this indiwidgle roof, identically comin’, Mr Pinch (I take the
liberty, though almost unbeknown), and do assure you of it, sir, the
smilinest and sweetest face as ever, Mrs Chuzzlewit, I see exceptin’
yourn, my dear good lady, and YOUR good lady’s too, sir, Mr Moddle, if
I may make so bold as speak so plain of what is plain enough to them as
needn’t look through millstones, Mrs Todgers, to find out wot is wrote
upon the wall behind. Which no offence is meant, ladies and gentlemen;
none bein’ took, I hope. To think as I should see that smilinest and
sweetest face which me and another friend of mine, took notice of among
the packages down London Bridge, in this promiscous place, is a surprige
in-deed!’
Having contrived, in this happy manner, to invest every member of her
audience with an individual share and immediate personal interest in
her address, Mrs Gamp dropped several curtseys to Ruth, and smilingly
shaking her head a great many times, pursued the thread of her
discourse:
‘Now, ain’t we rich in beauty this here joyful arternoon, I’m sure. I
knows a lady, which her name, I’ll not deceive you, Mrs Chuzzlewit, is
Harris, her husband’s brother bein’ six foot three, and marked with
a mad bull in Wellington boots upon his left arm, on account of his
precious mother havin’ been worrited by one into a shoemaker’s shop,
when in a sitiwation which blessed is the man as has his quiver full of
sech, as many times I’ve said to Gamp when words has roge betwixt us on
account of the expense--and often have I said to Mrs Harris, “Oh, Mrs
Harris, ma’am! your countenance is quite a angel’s!” Which, but
for Pimples, it would be. “No, Sairey Gamp,” says she, “you best of
hard-working and industrious creeturs as ever was underpaid at any