Martin Chuzzlewit
glad you did it, my love. Bye bye, Mrs Gamp!’ waving his hand. ‘There he
goes; there he goes!’
So he did; for the coach rolled off as the words were spoken. Mr and Mrs
Mould, in high good humour, went their merry way. Mr Bailey retired
with Poll Sweedlepipe as soon as possible; but some little time
elapsed before he could remove his friend from the ground, owing to
the impression wrought upon the barber’s nerves by Mrs Prig, whom he
pronounced, in admiration of her beard, to be a woman of transcendent
charms.
When the light cloud of bustle hanging round the coach was thus
dispersed, Nadgett was seen in the darkest box of the Bull coffee-room,
looking wistfully up at the clock--as if the man who never appeared were
a little behind his time.
CHAPTER THIRTY
PROVES THAT CHANGES MAY BE RUNG IN THE BEST-REGULATED FAMILIES, AND THAT
MR PECKNIFF WAS A SPECIAL HAND AT A TRIPLE-BOB-MAJOR
As the surgeon’s first care after amputating a limb, is to take up the
arteries the cruel knife has severed, so it is the duty of this history,
which in its remorseless course has cut from the Pecksniffian trunk its
right arm, Mercy, to look to the parent stem, and see how in all its
various ramifications it got on without her.
And first of Mr Pecksniff it may be observed, that having provided for
his youngest daughter that choicest of blessings, a tender and indulgent
husband; and having gratified the dearest wish of his parental heart by
establishing her in life so happily; he renewed his youth, and spreading
the plumage of his own bright conscience, felt himself equal to all
kinds of flights. It is customary with fathers in stage-plays, after
giving their daughters to the men of their hearts, to congratulate
themselves on having no other business on their hands but to die
immediately; though it is rarely found that they are in a hurry to do
it. Mr Pecksniff, being a father of a more sage and practical class,
appeared to think that his immediate business was to live; and having
deprived himself of one comfort, to surround himself with others.
But however much inclined the good man was to be jocose and playful, and
in the garden of his fancy to disport himself (if one may say so) like
an architectural kitten, he had one impediment constantly opposed to
him. The gentle Cherry, stung by a sense of slight and injury, which
far from softening down or wearing out, rankled and festered in her
heart--the gentle Cherry was in flat rebellion. She waged fierce war
against her dear papa, she led her parent what is usually called, for
want of a better figure of speech, the life of a dog. But never did that
dog live, in kennel, stable-yard, or house, whose life was half as hard
as Mr Pecksniff’s with his gentle child.
The father and daughter were sitting at their breakfast. Tom had
retired, and they were alone. Mr Pecksniff frowned at first; but having
cleared his brow, looked stealthily at his child. Her nose was very red
indeed, and screwed up tight, with hostile preparation.
‘Cherry,’ cried Mr Pecksniff, ‘what is amiss between us? My child, why
are we disunited?’
Miss Pecksniff’s answer was scarcely a response to this gush of
affection, for it was simply, ‘Bother, Pa!’
‘Bother!’ repeated Mr Pecksniff, in a tone of anguish.
‘Oh! ‘tis too late, Pa,’ said his daughter, calmly ‘to talk to me like
this. I know what it means, and what its value is.’
‘This is hard!’ cried Mr Pecksniff, addressing his breakfast-cup. ‘This
is very hard! She is my child. I carried her in my arms when she wore
shapeless worsted shoes--I might say, mufflers--many years ago!’
‘You needn’t taunt me with that, Pa,’ retorted Cherry, with a spiteful
look. ‘I am not so many years older than my sister, either, though she
IS married to your friend!’
‘Ah, human nature, human nature! Poor human nature!’ said Mr Pecksniff,
shaking his head at human nature, as if he didn’t belong to it. ‘To
think that this discord should arise from such a cause! oh dear, oh
dear!’
‘From such a cause indeed!’ cried Cherry. ‘State the real cause, Pa, or
I’ll state it myself. Mind! I will!’
Perhaps the energy with which she said this was infectious. However that
may be, Mr Pecksniff changed his tone and the expression of his face for
one of anger, if not downright violence, when he said:
‘You will! you have. You did yesterday. You do always. You have no
decency; you make no secret of your temper; you have exposed yourself to
Mr Chuzzlewit a hundred times.’
‘Myself!’ cried Cherry, with a bitter smile. ‘Oh indeed! I don’t mind
that.’
‘Me, too, then,’ said Mr Pecksniff.
His daughter answered with a scornful laugh.
‘And since we have come to an explanation, Charity,’ said Mr Pecksniff,
rolling his head portentously, ‘let me tell you that I won’t allow it.
None of your nonsense, Miss! I won’t permit it to be done.’
‘I shall do,’ said Charity, rocking her chair backwards and forwards,
and raising her voice to a high pitch, ‘I shall do, Pa, what I please
and what I have done. I am not going to be crushed in everything, depend
upon it. I’ve been more shamefully used than anybody ever was in
this world,’ here she began to cry and sob, ‘and may expect the worse
treatment from you, I know. But I don’t care for that. No, I don’t!’
Mr Pecksniff was made so desperate by the loud tone in which she spoke,
that, after looking about him in frantic uncertainty for some means of
softening it, he rose and shook her until the ornamental bow of hair
upon her head nodded like a plume. She was so very much astonished by
this assault, that it really had the desired effect.
‘I’ll do it again!’ cried Mr Pecksniff, as he resumed his seat and
fetched his breath, ‘if you dare to talk in that loud manner. How do
you mean about being shamefully used? If Mr Jonas chose your sister in
preference to you, who could help it, I should wish to know? What have I
to do with it?’
‘Wasn’t I made a convenience of? Weren’t my feelings trifled with?
Didn’t he address himself to me first?’ sobbed Cherry, clasping her
hands; ‘and oh, good gracious, that I should live to be shook!’
‘You’ll live to be shaken again,’ returned her parent, ‘if you drive
me to that means of maintaining the decorum of this humble roof. You
surprise me. I wonder you have not more spirit. If Mr Jonas didn’t care
for you, how could you wish to have him?’
‘I wish to have him!’ exclaimed Cherry. ‘I wish to have him, Pa!’
‘Then what are you making all this piece of work for,’ retorted her
father, ‘if you didn’t wish to have him?’
‘Because I was treated with duplicity,’ said Cherry; ‘and because my own
sister and my own father conspired against me. I am not angry with HER,’
said Cherry; looking much more angry than ever. ‘I pity her. I’m sorry
for her. I know the fate that’s in store for her, with that Wretch.’
‘Mr Jonas will survive your calling him a wretch, my child, I dare say,’
said Mr Pecksniff, with returning resignation; ‘but call him what you
like and make an end of it.’
‘Not an end, Pa,’ said Charity. ‘No, not an end. That’s not the only
point on which we’re not agreed. I won’t submit to it. It’s better you
should know that at once. No; I won’t submit to it indeed, Pa! I am
not quite a fool, and I am not blind. All I have got to say is, I won’t
submit to it.’
Whatever she meant, she shook Mr Pecksniff now; for his lame attempt to
seem composed was melancholy in the last degree. His anger changed to
meekness, and his words were mild and fawning.
‘My dear,’ he said; ‘if in the short excitement of an angry moment I
resorted to an unjustifiable means of suppressing a little outbreak
calculated to injure you as well as myself--it’s possible I may have
done so; perhaps I did--I ask your pardon. A father asking pardon of
his child,’ said Mr Pecksniff, ‘is, I believe, a spectacle to soften the
most rugged nature.’
But it didn’t at all soften Miss Pecksniff; perhaps because her nature
was not rugged enough. On the contrary, she persisted in saying, over
and over again, that she wasn’t quite a fool, and wasn’t blind, and
wouldn’t submit to it.
‘You labour under some mistake, my child!’ said Mr Pecksniff, ‘but
I will not ask you what it is; I don’t desire to know. No, pray!’ he
added, holding out his hand and colouring again, ‘let us avoid the
subject, my dear, whatever it is!’
‘It’s quite right that the subject should be avoided between us,
sir,’ said Cherry. ‘But I wish to be able to avoid it altogether, and
consequently must beg you to provide me with a home.’
Mr Pecksniff looked about the room, and said, ‘A home, my child!’
‘Another home, papa,’ said Cherry, with increasing stateliness ‘Place me
at Mrs Todgers’s or somewhere, on an independent footing; but I will not
live here, if such is to be the case.’
It is possible that Miss Pecksniff saw in Mrs Todgers’s a vision
of enthusiastic men, pining to fall in adoration at her feet. It is
possible that Mr Pecksniff, in his new-born juvenility, saw, in the
suggestion of that same establishment, an easy means of relieving
himself from an irksome charge in the way of temper and watchfulness.
It is undoubtedly a fact that in the attentive ears of Mr Pecksniff, the
proposition did not sound quite like the dismal knell of all his hopes.
But he was a man of great feeling and acute sensibility; and he squeezed
his pocket-handkerchief against his eyes with both hands--as such men
always do, especially when they are observed. ‘One of my birds,’ Mr
Pecksniff said, ‘has left me for the stranger’s breast; the other would
take wing to Todgers’s! Well, well, what am I? I don’t know what I am,
exactly. Never mind!’
Even this remark, made more pathetic perhaps by his breaking down in
the middle of it, had no effect upon Charity. She was grim, rigid, and
inflexible.
‘But I have ever,’ said Mr Pecksniff, ‘sacrificed my children’s
happiness to my own--I mean my own happiness to my children’s--and I
will not begin to regulate my life by other rules of conduct now. If you
can be happier at Mrs Todgers’s than in your father’s house, my dear, go
to Mrs Todgers’s! Do not think of me, my girl!’ said Mr Pecksniff with
emotion; ‘I shall get on pretty well, no doubt.’
Miss Charity, who knew he had a secret pleasure in the contemplation of
the proposed change, suppressed her own, and went on to negotiate the
terms. His views upon this subject were at first so very limited that
another difference, involving possibly another shaking, threatened to
ensue; but by degrees they came to something like an understanding, and
the storm blew over. Indeed, Miss Charity’s idea was so agreeable
to both, that it would have been strange if they had not come to an
amicable agreement. It was soon arranged between them that the project
should be tried, and that immediately; and that Cherry’s not being well,
and needing change of scene, and wishing to be near her sister, should
form the excuse for her departure to Mr Chuzzlewit and Mary, to both of
whom she had pleaded indisposition for some time past. These premises
agreed on, Mr Pecksniff gave her his blessing, with all the dignity of
a self-denying man who had made a hard sacrifice, but comforted himself
with the reflection that virtue is its own reward. Thus they were
reconciled for the first time since that not easily forgiven night,
when Mr Jonas, repudiating the elder, had confessed his passion for the
younger sister, and Mr Pecksniff had abetted him on moral grounds.
But how happened it--in the name of an unexpected addition to that small
family, the Seven Wonders of the World, whatever and wherever they may
be, how happened it--that Mr Pecksniff and his daughter were about
to part? How happened it that their mutual relations were so greatly