Martin Chuzzlewit
‘I knew what you were going to say,’ cried Tom, looking fixedly at him,
and speaking very softly. ‘You don’t tell me so?’
‘That was she,’ repeated the young man. ‘After what I have heard
from Pecksniff, I have no doubt that she came and went with my
grandfather.--Don’t you drink too much of that sour wine, or you’ll have
a fit of some sort, Pinch, I see.’
‘It is not very wholesome, I am afraid,’ said Tom, setting down the
empty glass he had for some time held. ‘So that was she, was it?’
Martin nodded assent; and adding, with a restless impatience, that if
he had been a few days earlier he would have seen her; and that now she
might be, for anything he knew, hundreds of miles away; threw himself,
after a few turns across the room, into a chair, and chafed like a
spoilt child.
Tom Pinch’s heart was very tender, and he could not bear to see the
most indifferent person in distress; still less one who had awakened
an interest in him, and who regarded him (either in fact, or as he
supposed) with kindness, and in a spirit of lenient construction.
Whatever his own thoughts had been a few moments before--and to judge
from his face they must have been pretty serious--he dismissed them
instantly, and gave his young friend the best counsel and comfort that
occurred to him.
‘All will be well in time,’ said Tom, ‘I have no doubt; and some trial
and adversity just now will only serve to make you more attached to each
other in better days. I have always read that the truth is so, and I
have a feeling within me, which tells me how natural and right it is
that it should be. That never ran smooth yet,’ said Tom, with a smile
which, despite the homeliness of his face, was pleasanter to see than
many a proud beauty’s brightest glance; ‘what never ran smooth yet, can
hardly be expected to change its character for us; so we must take it as
we find it, and fashion it into the very best shape we can, by patience
and good-humour. I have no power at all; I needn’t tell you that; but I
have an excellent will; and if I could ever be of use to you, in any way
whatever, how very glad I should be!’
‘Thank you,’ said Martin, shaking his hand. ‘You’re a good fellow, upon
my word, and speak very kindly. Of course you know,’ he added, after a
moment’s pause, as he drew his chair towards the fire again, ‘I should
not hesitate to avail myself of your services if you could help me at
all; but mercy on us!’--Here he rumpled his hair impatiently with his
hand, and looked at Tom as if he took it rather ill that he was not
somebody else--‘you might as well be a toasting-fork or a frying-pan,
Pinch, for any help you can render me.’
‘Except in the inclination,’ said Tom, gently.
‘Oh! to be sure. I meant that, of course. If inclination went for
anything, I shouldn’t want help. I tell you what you may do, though, if
you will, and at the present moment too.’
‘What is that?’ demanded Tom.
‘Read to me.’
‘I shall be delighted,’ cried Tom, catching up the candle with
enthusiasm. ‘Excuse my leaving you in the dark a moment, and I’ll fetch
a book directly. What will you like? Shakespeare?’
‘Aye!’ replied his friend, yawning and stretching himself. ‘He’ll do. I
am tired with the bustle of to-day, and the novelty of everything about
me; and in such a case, there’s no greater luxury in the world, I think,
than being read to sleep. You won’t mind my going to sleep, if I can?’
‘Not at all!’ cried Tom.
‘Then begin as soon as you like. You needn’t leave off when you see
me getting drowsy (unless you feel tired), for it’s pleasant to wake
gradually to the sounds again. Did you ever try that?’
‘No, I never tried that,’ said Tom
‘Well! You can, you know, one of these days when we’re both in the right
humour. Don’t mind leaving me in the dark. Look sharp!’
Mr Pinch lost no time in moving away; and in a minute or two returned
with one of the precious volumes from the shelf beside his bed. Martin
had in the meantime made himself as comfortable as circumstances would
permit, by constructing before the fire a temporary sofa of three chairs
with Mercy’s stool for a pillow, and lying down at full-length upon it.
‘Don’t be too loud, please,’ he said to Pinch.
‘No, no,’ said Tom.
‘You’re sure you’re not cold’
‘Not at all!’ cried Tom.
‘I am quite ready, then.’
Mr Pinch accordingly, after turning over the leaves of his book with as
much care as if they were living and highly cherished creatures, made
his own selection, and began to read. Before he had completed fifty
lines his friend was snoring.
‘Poor fellow!’ said Tom, softly, as he stretched out his head to peep
at him over the backs of the chairs. ‘He is very young to have so much
trouble. How trustful and generous in him to bestow all this confidence
in me. And that was she, was it?’
But suddenly remembering their compact, he took up the poem at the place
where he had left off, and went on reading; always forgetting to snuff
the candle, until its wick looked like a mushroom. He gradually became
so much interested, that he quite forgot to replenish the fire; and was
only reminded of his neglect by Martin Chuzzlewit starting up after the
lapse of an hour or so, and crying with a shiver.
‘Why, it’s nearly out, I declare! No wonder I dreamed of being frozen.
Do call for some coals. What a fellow you are, Pinch!’
CHAPTER SEVEN
IN WHICH MR CHEVY SLYME ASSERTS THE INDEPENDENCE OF HIS SPIRIT, AND THE
BLUE DRAGON LOSES A LIMB
Martin began to work at the grammar-school next morning, with so much
vigour and expedition, that Mr Pinch had new reason to do homage to
the natural endowments of that young gentleman, and to acknowledge
his infinite superiority to himself. The new pupil received Tom’s
compliments very graciously; and having by this time conceived a real
regard for him, in his own peculiar way, predicted that they would
always be the very best of friends, and that neither of them, he was
certain (but particularly Tom), would ever have reason to regret the day
on which they became acquainted. Mr Pinch was delighted to hear him say
this, and felt so much flattered by his kind assurances of friendship
and protection, that he was at a loss how to express the pleasure they
afforded him. And indeed it may be observed of this friendship, such as
it was, that it had within it more likely materials of endurance than
many a sworn brotherhood that has been rich in promise; for so long as
the one party found a pleasure in patronizing, and the other in
being patronised (which was in the very essence of their respective
characters), it was of all possible events among the least probable,
that the twin demons, Envy and Pride, would ever arise between them. So
in very many cases of friendship, or what passes for it, the old axiom
is reversed, and like clings to unlike more than to like.
They were both very busy on the afternoon succeeding the family’s
departure--Martin with the grammar-school, and Tom in balancing certain
receipts of rents, and deducting Mr Pecksniff’s commission from the
same; in which abstruse employment he was much distracted by a habit his
new friend had of whistling aloud while he was drawing--when they were
not a little startled by the unexpected obtrusion into that sanctuary of
genius, of a human head which, although a shaggy and somewhat alarming
head in appearance, smiled affably upon them from the doorway, in
a manner that was at once waggish, conciliatory, and expressive of
approbation.
‘I am not industrious myself, gents both,’ said the head, ‘but I know
how to appreciate that quality in others. I wish I may turn grey
and ugly, if it isn’t in my opinion, next to genius, one of the very
charmingest qualities of the human mind. Upon my soul, I am grateful
to my friend Pecksniff for helping me to the contemplation of such
a delicious picture as you present. You remind me of Whittington,
afterwards thrice Lord Mayor of London. I give you my unsullied word of
honour, that you very strongly remind me of that historical character.
You are a pair of Whittingtons, gents, without the cat; which is a most
agreeable and blessed exception to me, for I am not attached to the
feline species. My name is Tigg; how do you do?’
Martin looked to Mr Pinch for an explanation; and Tom, who had never in
his life set eyes on Mr Tigg before, looked to that gentleman himself.
‘Chevy Slyme?’ said Mr Tigg, interrogatively, and kissing his left hand
in token of friendship. ‘You will understand me when I say that I am the
accredited agent of Chevy Slyme; that I am the ambassador from the court
of Chiv? Ha ha!’
‘Heyday!’ asked Martin, starting at the mention of a name he knew.
‘Pray, what does he want with me?’
‘If your name is Pinch’--Mr Tigg began.
‘It is not’ said Martin, checking himself. ‘That is Mr Pinch.’
‘If that is Mr Pinch,’ cried Tigg, kissing his hand again, and beginning
to follow his head into the room, ‘he will permit me to say that I
greatly esteem and respect his character, which has been most highly
commended to me by my friend Pecksniff; and that I deeply appreciate his
talent for the organ, notwithstanding that I do not, if I may use the
expression, grind myself. If that is Mr Pinch, I will venture to express
a hope that I see him well, and that he is suffering no inconvenience
from the easterly wind?’
‘Thank you,’ said Tom. ‘I am very well.’
‘That is a comfort,’ Mr Tigg rejoined. ‘Then,’ he added, shielding his
lips with the palm of his hand, and applying them close to Mr Pinch’s
ear, ‘I have come for the letter.’
‘For the letter,’ said Tom, aloud. ‘What letter?’
‘The letter,’ whispered Tigg in the same cautious manner as before,
‘which my friend Pecksniff addressed to Chevy Slyme, Esquire, and left
with you.’
‘He didn’t leave any letter with me,’ said Tom.
‘Hush!’ cried the other. ‘It’s all the same thing, though not so
delicately done by my friend Pecksniff as I could have wished. The
money.’
‘The money!’ cried Tom quite scared.
‘Exactly so,’ said Mr Tigg. With which he rapped Tom twice or thrice
upon the breast and nodded several times, as though he would say that he
saw they understood each other; that it was unnecessary to mention
the circumstance before a third person; and that he would take it as a
particular favour if Tom would slip the amount into his hand, as quietly
as possible.
Mr Pinch, however, was so very much astounded by this (to him)
inexplicable deportment, that he at once openly declared there must be
some mistake, and that he had been entrusted with no commission whatever
having any reference to Mr Tigg or to his friend, either. Mr Tigg
received this declaration with a grave request that Mr Pinch would have
the goodness to make it again; and on Tom’s repeating it in a still more
emphatic and unmistakable manner, checked it off, sentence for sentence,
by nodding his head solemnly at the end of each. When it had come to
a close for the second time, Mr Tigg sat himself down in a chair and
addressed the young men as follows:
‘Then I tell you what it is, gents both. There is at this present moment
in this very place, a perfect constellation of talent and genius, who is
involved, through what I cannot but designate as the culpable negligence
of my friend Pecksniff, in a situation as tremendous, perhaps, as the
social intercourse of the nineteenth century will readily admit
of. There is actually at this instant, at the Blue Dragon in this
village--an ale-house, observe; a common, paltry, low-minded,
clodhopping, pipe-smoking ale-house--an individual, of whom it may be
said, in the language of the Poet, that nobody but himself can in any
way come up to him; who is detained there for his bill. Ha! ha! For his
bill. I repeat it--for his bill. Now,’ said Mr Tigg, ‘we have heard