Chapter 2
THE MAN FROM SOMEWHERE
Mr and Mrs Veneering were bran-new people in a bran-new house in abran-new quarter of London. Everything about the Veneerings was spickand span new. All their furniture was new, all their friends were new,all their servants were new, their plate was new, their carriage wasnew, their harness was new, their horses were new, their pictureswere new, they themselves were new, they were as newly married as waslawfully compatible with their having a bran-new baby, and if they hadset up a great-grandfather, he would have come home in matting from thePantechnicon, without a scratch upon him, French polished to the crownof his head.
For, in the Veneering establishment, from the hall-chairs with the newcoat of arms, to the grand pianoforte with the new action, and upstairsagain to the new fire-escape, all things were in a state of high varnishand polish. And what was observable in the furniture, was observable inthe Veneerings--the surface smelt a little too much of the workshop andwas a trifle sticky.
There was an innocent piece of dinner-furniture that went upon easycastors and was kept over a livery stable-yard in Duke Street, SaintJames's, when not in use, to whom the Veneerings were a source of blindconfusion. The name of this article was Twemlow. Being first cousinto Lord Snigsworth, he was in frequent requisition, and at many housesmight be said to represent the dining-table in its normal state. Mr andMrs Veneering, for example, arranging a dinner, habitually started withTwemlow, and then put leaves in him, or added guests to him. Sometimes,the table consisted of Twemlow and half a dozen leaves; sometimes, ofTwemlow and a dozen leaves; sometimes, Twemlow was pulled out to hisutmost extent of twenty leaves. Mr and Mrs Veneering on occasions ofceremony faced each other in the centre of the board, and thus theparallel still held; for, it always happened that the more Twemlow waspulled out, the further he found himself from the center, and nearerto the sideboard at one end of the room, or the window-curtains at theother.
But, it was not this which steeped the feeble soul of Twemlow inconfusion. This he was used to, and could take soundings of. The abyssto which he could find no bottom, and from which started forth theengrossing and ever-swelling difficulty of his life, was the insolublequestion whether he was Veneering's oldest friend, or newest friend.To the excogitation of this problem, the harmless gentleman had devotedmany anxious hours, both in his lodgings over the livery stable-yard,and in the cold gloom, favourable to meditation, of Saint James'sSquare. Thus. Twemlow had first known Veneering at his club, whereVeneering then knew nobody but the man who made them known to oneanother, who seemed to be the most intimate friend he had in the world,and whom he had known two days--the bond of union between their souls,the nefarious conduct of the committee respecting the cookery ofa fillet of veal, having been accidentally cemented at that date.Immediately upon this, Twemlow received an invitation to dine withVeneering, and dined: the man being of the party. Immediately uponthat, Twemlow received an invitation to dine with the man, and dined:Veneering being of the party. At the man's were a Member, an Engineer, aPayer-off of the National Debt, a Poem on Shakespeare, a Grievance, anda Public Office, who all seem to be utter strangers to Veneering. Andyet immediately after that, Twemlow received an invitation to dine atVeneerings, expressly to meet the Member, the Engineer, the Payer-offof the National Debt, the Poem on Shakespeare, the Grievance, and thePublic Office, and, dining, discovered that all of them were the mostintimate friends Veneering had in the world, and that the wives of allof them (who were all there) were the objects of Mrs Veneering's mostdevoted affection and tender confidence.
Thus it had come about, that Mr Twemlow had said to himself in hislodgings, with his hand to his forehead: 'I must not think of this. Thisis enough to soften any man's brain,'--and yet was always thinking ofit, and could never form a conclusion.
This evening the Veneerings give a banquet. Eleven leaves in theTwemlow; fourteen in company all told. Four pigeon-breasted retainers inplain clothes stand in line in the hall. A fifth retainer, proceeding upthe staircase with a mournful air--as who should say, 'Here is anotherwretched creature come to dinner; such is life!'--announces, 'Mis-terTwemlow!'
Mrs Veneering welcomes her sweet Mr Twemlow. Mr Veneering welcomeshis dear Twemlow. Mrs Veneering does not expect that Mr Twemlow can innature care much for such insipid things as babies, but so old a friendmust please to look at baby. 'Ah! You will know the friend of yourfamily better, Tootleums,' says Mr Veneering, nodding emotionally atthat new article, 'when you begin to take notice.' He then begs to makehis dear Twemlow known to his two friends, Mr Boots and Mr Brewer--andclearly has no distinct idea which is which.
But now a fearful circumstance occurs.
'Mis-ter and Mis-sus Podsnap!'
'My dear,' says Mr Veneering to Mrs Veneering, with an air of muchfriendly interest, while the door stands open, 'the Podsnaps.'
A too, too smiling large man, with a fatal freshness on him, appearingwith his wife, instantly deserts his wife and darts at Twemlow with:
'How do you do? So glad to know you. Charming house you have here. Ihope we are not late. So glad of the opportunity, I am sure!'
When the first shock fell upon him, Twemlow twice skipped back inhis neat little shoes and his neat little silk stockings of a bygonefashion, as if impelled to leap over a sofa behind him; but the largeman closed with him and proved too strong.
'Let me,' says the large man, trying to attract the attention of hiswife in the distance, 'have the pleasure of presenting Mrs Podsnapto her host. She will be,' in his fatal freshness he seems to findperpetual verdure and eternal youth in the phrase, 'she will be so gladof the opportunity, I am sure!'
In the meantime, Mrs Podsnap, unable to originate a mistake on her ownaccount, because Mrs Veneering is the only other lady there, does herbest in the way of handsomely supporting her husband's, by lookingtowards Mr Twemlow with a plaintive countenance and remarking to MrsVeneering in a feeling manner, firstly, that she fears he has beenrather bilious of late, and, secondly, that the baby is already verylike him.
It is questionable whether any man quite relishes being mistaken forany other man; but, Mr Veneering having this very evening set up theshirt-front of the young Antinous in new worked cambric just come home,is not at all complimented by being supposed to be Twemlow, who is dryand weazen and some thirty years older. Mrs Veneering equally resentsthe imputation of being the wife of Twemlow. As to Twemlow, he isso sensible of being a much better bred man than Veneering, that heconsiders the large man an offensive ass.
In this complicated dilemma, Mr Veneering approaches the large man withextended hand and, smilingly assures that incorrigible personage that heis delighted to see him: who in his fatal freshness instantly replies:
'Thank you. I am ashamed to say that I cannot at this moment recallwhere we met, but I am so glad of this opportunity, I am sure!'
Then pouncing upon Twemlow, who holds back with all his feeble might, heis haling him off to present him, as Veneering, to Mrs Podsnap, when thearrival of more guests unravels the mistake. Whereupon, having re-shakenhands with Veneering as Veneering, he re-shakes hands with Twemlow asTwemlow, and winds it all up to his own perfect satisfaction by sayingto the last-named, 'Ridiculous opportunity--but so glad of it, I amsure!'
Now, Twemlow having undergone this terrific experience, having likewisenoted the fusion of Boots in Brewer and Brewer in Boots, and havingfurther observed that of the remaining seven guests four discretecharacters enter with wandering eyes and wholly declined to committhemselves as to which is Veneering, until Veneering has them in hisgrasp;--Twemlow having profited by these studies, finds his brainwholesomely hardening as he approaches the conclusion that he really isVeneering's oldest friend, when his brain softens again and all islost, through his eyes encountering Veneering and the large man linkedtogether as twin brothers in the back drawing-room near the conservatorydoor, and through his ears informing him in the tones of Mrs Veneeringthat the same large man is to be baby's godfather.
'Dinner is on the table!'
Thus the melancholy retainer, as who should say, 'Come down and bepoisoned, ye unhappy children of men!'
Twemlow, having no lady assigned him, goes down in the rear, withhis hand to his forehead. Boots and Brewer, thinking him indisposed,whisper, 'Man faint. Had no lunch.' But he is only stunned by theunvanquishable difficulty of his existence.
Revived by soup, Twemlow discourses mildly of the Court Circular withBoots and Brewer. Is appealed to, at the fish stage of the banquet, byVeneering, on the disputed question whether his cousin Lord Snigsworthis in or out of town? Gives it that his cousin is out of town. 'AtSnigsworthy Park?' Veneering inquires. 'At Snigsworthy,' Twemlowrejoins. Boots and Brewer regard this as a man to be cultivated; andVeneering is clear that he is a remunerative article. Meantime theretainer goes round, like a gloomy Analytical Chemist: always seemingto say, after 'Chablis, sir?'--'You wouldn't if you knew what it's madeof.'
The great looking-glass above the sideboard, reflects the table and thecompany. Reflects the new Veneering crest, in gold and eke in silver,frosted and also thawed, a camel of all work. The Heralds' College foundout a Crusading ancestor for Veneering who bore a camel on his shield(or might have done it if he had thought of it), and a caravan of camelstake charge of the fruits and flowers and candles, and kneel down beloaded with the salt. Reflects Veneering; forty, wavy-haired, dark,tending to corpulence, sly, mysterious, filmy--a kind of sufficientlywell-looking veiled-prophet, not prophesying. Reflects Mrs Veneering;fair, aquiline-nosed and fingered, not so much light hair as she mighthave, gorgeous in raiment and jewels, enthusiastic, propitiatory,conscious that a corner of her husband's veil is over herself. ReflectsPodsnap; prosperously feeding, two little light-coloured wiry wings, oneon either side of his else bald head, looking as like his hairbrushes ashis hair, dissolving view of red beads on his forehead, large allowanceof crumpled shirt-collar up behind. Reflects Mrs Podsnap; fine womanfor Professor Owen, quantity of bone, neck and nostrils like arocking-horse, hard features, majestic head-dress in which Podsnap hashung golden offerings. Reflects Twemlow; grey, dry, polite, susceptibleto east wind, First-Gentleman-in-Europe collar and cravat, cheeks drawnin as if he had made a great effort to retire into himself some yearsago, and had got so far and had never got any farther. Reflects matureyoung lady; raven locks, and complexion that lights up well when wellpowdered--as it is--carrying on considerably in the captivation ofmature young gentleman; with too much nose in his face, too much gingerin his whiskers, too much torso in his waistcoat, too much sparkle inhis studs, his eyes, his buttons, his talk, and his teeth. Reflectscharming old Lady Tippins on Veneering's right; with an immense obtusedrab oblong face, like a face in a tablespoon, and a dyed Long Walk upthe top of her head, as a convenient public approach to the bunch offalse hair behind, pleased to patronize Mrs Veneering opposite, whois pleased to be patronized. Reflects a certain 'Mortimer', anotherof Veneering's oldest friends; who never was in the house before,and appears not to want to come again, who sits disconsolate on MrsVeneering's left, and who was inveigled by Lady Tippins (a friend ofhis boyhood) to come to these people's and talk, and who won't talk.Reflects Eugene, friend of Mortimer; buried alive in the back of hischair, behind a shoulder--with a powder-epaulette on it--of the matureyoung lady, and gloomily resorting to the champagne chalice wheneverproffered by the Analytical Chemist. Lastly, the looking-glass reflectsBoots and Brewer, and two other stuffed Buffers interposed between therest of the company and possible accidents.
The Veneering dinners are excellent dinners--or new people wouldn'tcome--and all goes well. Notably, Lady Tippins has made a series ofexperiments on her digestive functions, so extremely complicated anddaring, that if they could be published with their results it mightbenefit the human race. Having taken in provisions from all parts of theworld, this hardy old cruiser has last touched at the North Pole, when,as the ice-plates are being removed, the following words fall from her:
'I assure you, my dear Veneering--'
(Poor Twemlow's hand approaches his forehead, for it would seem now,that Lady Tippins is going to be the oldest friend.)
'I assure you, my dear Veneering, that it is the oddest affair! Likethe advertising people, I don't ask you to trust me, without offeringa respectable reference. Mortimer there, is my reference, and knows allabout it.'
Mortimer raises his drooping eyelids, and slightly opens his mouth. Buta faint smile, expressive of 'What's the use!' passes over his face, andhe drops his eyelids and shuts his mouth.
'Now, Mortimer,' says Lady Tippins, rapping the sticks of her closedgreen fan upon the knuckles of her left hand--which is particularly richin knuckles, 'I insist upon your telling all that is to be told aboutthe man from Jamaica.'
'Give you my honour I never heard of any man from Jamaica, except theman who was a brother,' replies Mortimer.
'Tobago, then.'
'Nor yet from Tobago.'
'Except,' Eugene strikes in: so unexpectedly that the mature young lady,who has forgotten all about him, with a start takes the epaulette outof his way: 'except our friend who long lived on rice-pudding andisinglass, till at length to his something or other, his physician saidsomething else, and a leg of mutton somehow ended in daygo.'
A reviving impression goes round the table that Eugene is coming out. Anunfulfilled impression, for he goes in again.
'Now, my dear Mrs Veneering,' quoth Lady Tippins, I appeal to youwhether this is not the basest conduct ever known in this world? I carrymy lovers about, two or three at a time, on condition that they are veryobedient and devoted; and here is my oldest lover-in-chief, the head ofall my slaves, throwing off his allegiance before company! And here isanother of my lovers, a rough Cymon at present certainly, but of whomI had most hopeful expectations as to his turning out well in course oftime, pretending that he can't remember his nursery rhymes! On purposeto annoy me, for he knows how I doat upon them!'
A grisly little fiction concerning her lovers is Lady Tippins's point.She is always attended by a lover or two, and she keeps a little listof her lovers, and she is always booking a new lover, or striking out anold lover, or putting a lover in her black list, or promoting a lover toher blue list, or adding up her lovers, or otherwise posting her book.Mrs Veneering is charmed by the humour, and so is Veneering. Perhaps itis enhanced by a certain yellow play in Lady Tippins's throat, like thelegs of scratching poultry.
'I banish the false wretch from this moment, and I strike him out ofmy Cupidon (my name for my Ledger, my dear,) this very night. But I amresolved to have the account of the man from Somewhere, and I beg youto elicit it for me, my love,' to Mrs Veneering, 'as I have lost my owninfluence. Oh, you perjured man!' This to Mortimer, with a rattle of herfan.
'We are all very much interested in the man from Somewhere,' Veneeringobserves.
Then the four Buffers, taking heart of grace all four at once, say:
'Deeply interested!'
'Quite excited!'
'Dramatic!'
'Man from Nowhere, perhaps!'
And then Mrs Veneering--for the Lady Tippins's winning wiles arecontagious--folds her hands in the manner of a supplicating child, turnsto her left neighbour, and says, 'Tease! Pay! Man from Tumwhere!' Atwhich the four Buffers, again mysteriously moved all four at once,explain, 'You can't resist!'
'Upon my life,' says Mortimer languidly, 'I find it immenselyembarrassing to have the eyes of Europe upon me to this extent, and myonly consolation is that you will all of you execrate Lady Tippins inyour secret hearts when you find, as you inevitably will, the man fromSomewhere a bore. Sorry to destroy romance by fixing him with a localhabitation, but he comes from the place, the name of which escapes me,but will suggest itself to everybody else here, where they make thewine.'
Eugene suggests 'Day and Martin's.'
'No, not that place,' returns the unmoved Mortimer, 'that's where theymake the Port. My man comes from the country where they make the CapeWine. But look here, old fellow; its not at all statistical and it'srather odd.'
It is always noticeable at the table of the Veneerings, that no mantroubles himself much about the Veneerings themselves, and that anyone who has anything to tell, generally tells it to anybody else inpreference.
'The man,' Mortimer goes on, addressing Eugene, 'whose name is Harmon,was only son of a tremendous old rascal who made his money by Dust.'
'Red velveteens and a bell?' the gloomy Eugene inquires.
'And a ladder and basket if you like. By which means, or by others, hegrew rich as a Dust Contractor, and lived in a hollow in a hilly countryentirely composed of Dust. On his own small estate the growling oldvagabond threw up his own mountain range, like an old volcano, and itsgeological formation was Dust. Coal-dust, vegetable-dust, bone-dust,crockery dust, rough dust and sifted dust,--all manner of Dust.'
A passing remembrance of Mrs Veneering, here induces Mortimer to addresshis next half-dozen words to her; after which he wanders away again,tries Twemlow and finds he doesn't answer, ultimately takes up with theBuffers who receive him enthusiastically.
'The moral being--I believe that's the right expression--of thisexemplary person, derived its highest gratification from anathematizinghis nearest relations and turning them out of doors. Having begun (aswas natural) by rendering these attentions to the wife of his bosom,he next found himself at leisure to bestow a similar recognition on theclaims of his daughter. He chose a husband for her, entirely to his ownsatisfaction and not in the least to hers, and proceeded to settle uponher, as her marriage portion, I don't know how much Dust, but somethingimmense. At this stage of the affair the poor girl respectfullyintimated that she was secretly engaged to that popular character whomthe novelists and versifiers call Another, and that such a marriagewould make Dust of her heart and Dust of her life--in short, wouldset her up, on a very extensive scale, in her father's business.Immediately, the venerable parent--on a cold winter's night, it issaid--anathematized and turned her out.'
Here, the Analytical Chemist (who has evidently formed a very lowopinion of Mortimer's story) concedes a little claret to the Buffers;who, again mysteriously moved all four at once, screw it slowly intothemselves with a peculiar twist of enjoyment, as they cry in chorus,'Pray go on.'
'The pecuniary resources of Another were, as they usually are, of a verylimited nature. I believe I am not using too strong an expression whenI say that Another was hard up. However, he married the young lady, andthey lived in a humble dwelling, probably possessing a porch ornamentedwith honeysuckle and woodbine twining, until she died. I must referyou to the Registrar of the District in which the humble dwelling wassituated, for the certified cause of death; but early sorrow and anxietymay have had to do with it, though they may not appear in the ruledpages and printed forms. Indisputably this was the case with Another,for he was so cut up by the loss of his young wife that if he outlivedher a year it was as much as he did.'
There is that in the indolent Mortimer, which seems to hint that if goodsociety might on any account allow itself to be impressible, he, one ofgood society, might have the weakness to be impressed by what he hererelates. It is hidden with great pains, but it is in him. The gloomyEugene too, is not without some kindred touch; for, when that appallingLady Tippins declares that if Another had survived, he should have gonedown at the head of her list of lovers--and also when the mature younglady shrugs her epaulettes, and laughs at some private and confidentialcomment from the mature young gentleman--his gloom deepens to thatdegree that he trifles quite ferociously with his dessert-knife.
Mortimer proceeds.
'We must now return, as novelists say, and as we all wish they wouldn't,to the man from Somewhere. Being a boy of fourteen, cheaply educatedat Brussels when his sister's expulsion befell, it was some little timebefore he heard of it--probably from herself, for the mother was dead;but that I don't know. Instantly, he absconded, and came over here. Hemust have been a boy of spirit and resource, to get here on a stoppedallowance of five sous a week; but he did it somehow, and he burst inon his father, and pleaded his sister's cause. Venerable parent promptlyresorts to anathematization, and turns him out. Shocked and terrifiedboy takes flight, seeks his fortune, gets aboard ship, ultimatelyturns up on dry land among the Cape wine: small proprietor, farmer,grower--whatever you like to call it.'
At this juncture, shuffling is heard in the hall, and tapping is heardat the dining-room door. Analytical Chemist goes to the door, confersangrily with unseen tapper, appears to become mollified by descryingreason in the tapping, and goes out.
'So he was discovered, only the other day, after having been expatriatedabout fourteen years.'
A Buffer, suddenly astounding the other three, by detaching himself, andasserting individuality, inquires: 'How discovered, and why?'
'Ah! To be sure. Thank you for reminding me. Venerable parent dies.'
Same Buffer, emboldened by success, says: 'When?'
'The other day. Ten or twelve months ago.'
Same Buffer inquires with smartness, 'What of?' But herein perishes amelancholy example; being regarded by the three other Buffers with astony stare, and attracting no further attention from any mortal.
'Venerable parent,' Mortimer repeats with a passing remembrance thatthere is a Veneering at table, and for the first time addressinghim--'dies.'
The gratified Veneering repeats, gravely, 'dies'; and folds his arms,and composes his brow to hear it out in a judicial manner, when he findshimself again deserted in the bleak world.
'His will is found,' said Mortimer, catching Mrs Podsnap'srocking-horse's eye. 'It is dated very soon after the son's flight. Itleaves the lowest of the range of dust-mountains, with some sort of adwelling-house at its foot, to an old servant who is sole executor, andall the rest of the property--which is very considerable--to the son.He directs himself to be buried with certain eccentric ceremonies andprecautions against his coming to life, with which I need not bore you,and that's all--except--' and this ends the story.
The Analytical Chemist returning, everybody looks at him. Not becauseanybody wants to see him, but because of that subtle influence in naturewhich impels humanity to embrace the slightest opportunity of looking atanything, rather than the person who addresses it.
'--Except that the son's inheriting is made conditional on his marryinga girl, who at the date of the will, was a child of four or five yearsold, and who is now a marriageable young woman. Advertisement andinquiry discovered the son in the man from Somewhere, and at the presentmoment, he is on his way home from there--no doubt, in a state of greatastonishment--to succeed to a very large fortune, and to take a wife.'
Mrs Podsnap inquires whether the young person is a young person ofpersonal charms? Mortimer is unable to report.
Mr Podsnap inquires what would become of the very large fortune, in theevent of the marriage condition not being fulfilled? Mortimer replies,that by special testamentary clause it would then go to the old servantabove mentioned, passing over and excluding the son; also, that ifthe son had not been living, the same old servant would have been soleresiduary legatee.
Mrs Veneering has just succeeded in waking Lady Tippins from a snore, bydexterously shunting a train of plates and dishes at her knuckles acrossthe table; when everybody but Mortimer himself becomes aware that theAnalytical Chemist is, in a ghostly manner, offering him a folded paper.Curiosity detains Mrs Veneering a few moments.
Mortimer, in spite of all the arts of the chemist, placidly refresheshimself with a glass of Madeira, and remains unconscious of the Documentwhich engrosses the general attention, until Lady Tippins (who has ahabit of waking totally insensible), having remembered where she is, andrecovered a perception of surrounding objects, says: 'Falser man thanDon Juan; why don't you take the note from the commendatore?' Uponwhich, the chemist advances it under the nose of Mortimer, who looksround at him, and says:
'What's this?'
Analytical Chemist bends and whispers.
'WHO?' Says Mortimer.
Analytical Chemist again bends and whispers.
Mortimer stares at him, and unfolds the paper. Reads it, reads it twice,turns it over to look at the blank outside, reads it a third time.
'This arrives in an extraordinarily opportune manner,' says Mortimerthen, looking with an altered face round the table: 'this is theconclusion of the story of the identical man.'
'Already married?' one guesses.
'Declines to marry?' another guesses.
'Codicil among the dust?' another guesses.
'Why, no,' says Mortimer; 'remarkable thing, you are all wrong. Thestory is completer and rather more exciting than I supposed. Man'sdrowned!'