Martin Chuzzlewit
said some good things now and then? He asked a certain Viscount, who’s
a friend of mine--Pip knows him--“What’s the editor’s name, what’s the
editor’s name?” “Wolf.” “Wolf, eh? Sharp biter, Wolf. We must keep the
Wolf from the door, as the proverb says.” It was very well. And being
complimentary, I printed it.’
‘But the Viscount’s the boy!’ cried Pip, who invented a new oath for
the introduction of everything he said. ‘The Viscount’s the boy! He came
into our place one night to take Her home; rather slued, but not much;
and said, “Where’s Pip? I want to see Pip. Produce Pip!”--“What’s the
row, my lord?”--“Shakspeare’s an infernal humbug, Pip! What’s the good
of Shakspeare, Pip? I never read him. What the devil is it all about,
Pip? There’s a lot of feet in Shakspeare’s verse, but there an’t any
legs worth mentioning in Shakspeare’s plays, are there, Pip? Juliet,
Desdemona, Lady Macbeth, and all the rest of ‘em, whatever their names
are, might as well have no legs at all, for anything the audience know
about it, Pip. Why, in that respect they’re all Miss Biffins to the
audience, Pip. I’ll tell you what it is. What the people call dramatic
poetry is a collection of sermons. Do I go to the theatre to be
lectured? No, Pip. If I wanted that, I’d go to church. What’s the
legitimate object of the drama, Pip? Human nature. What are legs? Human
nature. Then let us have plenty of leg pieces, Pip, and I’ll stand by
you, my buck!” and I am proud to say,’ added Pip, ‘that he DID stand by
me, handsomely.’
The conversation now becoming general, Mr Jonas’s opinion was requested
on this subject; and as it was in full accordance with the sentiments of
Mr Pip, that gentleman was extremely gratified. Indeed, both himself and
Wolf had so much in common with Jonas, that they became very amicable;
and between their increasing friendship and the fumes of wine, Jonas
grew talkative.
It does not follow in the case of such a person that the more talkative
he becomes, the more agreeable he is; on the contrary, his merits show
to most advantage, perhaps, in silence. Having no means, as he thought,
of putting himself on an equality with the rest, but by the assertion
of that depth and sharpness on which he had been complimented, Jonas
exhibited that faculty to the utmost; and was so deep and sharp that
he lost himself in his own profundity, and cut his fingers with his own
edge-tools.
It was especially in his way and character to exhibit his quality at his
entertainer’s expense; and while he drank of his sparkling wines, and
partook of his monstrous profusion, to ridicule the extravagance which
had set such costly fare before him. Even at such a wanton board, and in
such more than doubtful company, this might have proved a disagreeable
experiment, but that Tigg and Crimple, studying to understand their man
thoroughly, gave him what license he chose: knowing that the more
he took, the better for their purpose. And thus while the blundering
cheat--gull that he was, for all his cunning--thought himself rolled
up hedgehog fashion, with his sharpest points towards them, he was,
in fact, betraying all his vulnerable parts to their unwinking
watchfulness.
Whether the two gentlemen who contributed so much to the doctor’s
philosophical knowledge (by the way, the doctor slipped off quietly,
after swallowing his usual amount of wine) had had their cue distinctly
from the host, or took it from what they saw and heard, they acted
their parts very well. They solicited the honour of Jonas’s better
acquaintance; trusted that they would have the pleasure of introducing
him into that elevated society in which he was so well qualified to
shine; and informed him, in the most friendly manner that the advantages
of their respective establishments were entirely at his control. In a
word, they said ‘Be one of us!’ And Jonas said he was infinitely obliged
to them, and he would be; adding within himself, that so long as they
‘stood treat,’ there was nothing he would like better.
After coffee, which was served in the drawing-room, there was a short
interval (mainly sustained by Pip and Wolf) of conversation; rather
highly spiced and strongly seasoned. When it flagged, Jonas took it up
and showed considerable humour in appraising the furniture; inquiring
whether such an article was paid for; what it had originally cost, and
the like. In all of this, he was, as he considered, desperately hard on
Montague, and very demonstrative of his own brilliant parts.
Some Champagne Punch gave a new though temporary fillip to the
entertainments of the evening. For after leading to some noisy
proceedings, which were not intelligible, it ended in the unsteady
departure of the two gentlemen of the world, and the slumber of Mr Jonas
upon one of the sofas.
As he could not be made to understand where he was, Mr Bailey received
orders to call a hackney-coach, and take him home; which that young
gentleman roused himself from an uneasy sleep in the hall to do. It
being now almost three o’clock in the morning.
‘Is he hooked, do you think?’ whispered Crimple, as himself and partner
stood in a distant part of the room observing him as he lay.
‘Aye!’ said Tigg, in the same tone. ‘With a strong iron, perhaps. Has
Nadgett been here to-night?’
‘Yes. I went out to him. Hearing you had company, he went away.’
‘Why did he do that?’
‘He said he would come back early in the morning, before you were out of
bed.’
‘Tell them to be sure and send him up to my bedside. Hush! Here’s the
boy! Now Mr Bailey, take this gentleman home, and see him safely in.
Hallo, here! Why Chuzzlewit, halloa!’
They got him upright with some difficulty, and assisted him downstairs,
where they put his hat upon his head, and tumbled him into the coach.
Mr Bailey, having shut him in, mounted the box beside the coachman, and
smoked his cigar with an air of particular satisfaction; the undertaking
in which he was engaged having a free and sporting character about it,
which was quite congenial to his taste.
Arriving in due time at the house in the City, Mr Bailey jumped down,
and expressed the lively nature of his feelings in a knock the like of
which had probably not been heard in that quarter since the great fire
of London. Going out into the road to observe the effect of this feat,
he saw that a dim light, previously visible at an upper window, had been
already removed and was travelling downstairs. To obtain a foreknowledge
of the bearer of this taper, Mr Bailey skipped back to the door again,
and put his eye to the keyhole.
It was the merry one herself. But sadly, strangely altered! So careworn
and dejected, so faltering and full of fear; so fallen, humbled,
broken; that to have seen her quiet in her coffin would have been a less
surprise.
She set the light upon a bracket in the hall, and laid her hand upon her
heart; upon her eyes; upon her burning head. Then she came on towards
the door with such a wild and hurried step that Mr Bailey lost his
self-possession, and still had his eye where the keyhole had been, when
she opened it.
‘Aha!’ said Mr Bailey, with an effort. ‘There you are, are you? What’s
the matter? Ain’t you well, though?’
In the midst of her astonishment as she recognized him in his altered
dress, so much of her old smile came back to her face that Bailey was
glad. But next moment he was sorry again, for he saw tears standing in
her poor dim eyes.
‘Don’t be frightened,’ said Bailey. ‘There ain’t nothing the matter.
I’ve brought home Mr Chuzzlewit. He ain’t ill. He’s only a little
swipey, you know.’ Mr Bailey reeled in his boots, to express
intoxication.
‘Have you come from Mrs Todgers’s?’ asked Merry, trembling.
‘Todgers’s, bless you! No!’ cried Mr Bailey. ‘I haven’t got nothin, to
do with Todgers’s. I cut that connection long ago. He’s been a-dining
with my governor at the west-end. Didn’t you know he was a-coming to see
us?’
‘No,’ she said, faintly.
‘Oh yes! We’re heavy swells too, and so I tell you. Don’t you come out,
a-catching cold in your head. I’ll wake him!’ Mr Bailey expressing in
his demeanour a perfect confidence that he could carry him in with ease,
if necessary, opened the coach door, let down the steps, and giving
Jonas a shake, cried ‘We’ve got home, my flower! Tumble up, then!’
He was so far recovered as to be able to respond to this appeal, and
to come stumbling out of the coach in a heap, to the great hazard of Mr
Bailey’s person. When he got upon the pavement, Mr Bailey first butted
at him in front, and then dexterously propped him up behind; and having
steadied him by these means, he assisted him into the house.
‘You go up first with the light,’ said Bailey to Mr Jonas, ‘and we’ll
foller. Don’t tremble so. He won’t hurt you. When I’ve had a drop too
much, I’m full of good natur myself.’
She went on before; and her husband and Bailey, by dint of tumbling
over each other, and knocking themselves about, got at last into the
sitting-room above stairs, where Jonas staggered into a seat.
‘There!’ said Mr Bailey. ‘He’s all right now. You ain’t got nothing to
cry for, bless you! He’s righter than a trivet!’
The ill-favoured brute, with dress awry, and sodden face, and rumpled
hair, sat blinking and drooping, and rolling his idiotic eyes about,
until, becoming conscious by degrees, he recognized his wife, and shook
his fist at her.
‘Ah!’ cried Mr Bailey, squaring his arms with a sudden emotion. ‘What,
you’re wicious, are you? Would you though! You’d better not!’
‘Pray, go away!’ said Merry. ‘Bailey, my good boy, go home. Jonas!’ she
said; timidly laying her hand upon his shoulder, and bending her head
down over him. ‘Jonas!’
‘Look at her!’ cried Jonas, pushing her off with his extended arm. ‘Look
here! Look at her! Here’s a bargain for a man!’
‘Dear Jonas!’
‘Dear Devil!’ he replied, with a fierce gesture. ‘You’re a pretty clog
to be tied to a man for life, you mewling, white-faced cat! Get out of
my sight!’
‘I know you don’t mean it, Jonas. You wouldn’t say it if you were
sober.’
With affected gayety she gave Bailey a piece of money, and again
implored him to be gone. Her entreaty was so earnest, that the boy had
not the heart to stay there. But he stopped at the bottom of the stairs,
and listened.
‘I wouldn’t say it if I was sober!’ retorted Jonas. ‘You know better.
Have I never said it when I was sober?’
‘Often, indeed!’ she answered through her tears.
‘Hark ye!’ cried Jonas, stamping his foot upon the ground. ‘You made me
bear your pretty humours once, and ecod I’ll make you bear mine now. I
always promised myself I would. I married you that I might. I’ll know
who’s master, and who’s slave!’
‘Heaven knows I am obedient!’ said the sobbing girl. ‘Much more so than
I ever thought to be!’
Jonas laughed in his drunken exultation. ‘What! you’re finding it out,
are you! Patience, and you will in time! Griffins have claws, my girl.
There’s not a pretty slight you ever put upon me, nor a pretty trick you
ever played me, nor a pretty insolence you ever showed me, that I won’t
pay back a hundred-fold. What else did I marry you for? YOU, too!’ he
said, with coarse contempt.
It might have softened him--indeed it might--to hear her turn a little
fragment of a song he used to say he liked; trying, with a heart so
full, to win him back.
‘Oho!’ he said, ‘you’re deaf, are you? You don’t hear me, eh? So much
the better for you. I hate you. I hate myself, for having, been fool
enough to strap a pack upon my back for the pleasure of treading on it
whenever I choose. Why, things have opened to me, now, so that I might
marry almost where I liked. But I wouldn’t; I’d keep single. I ought to
be single, among the friends I know. Instead of that, here I am, tied