Martin Chuzzlewit
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.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
MR MONTAGUE AT HOME. AND MR JONAS CHUZZLEWIT AT HOME
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’S well!’
‘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 about ME,’ 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 nothing CAN be 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