CHAPTER NINETEEN
THE READER IS BROUGHT INTO COMMUNICATION WITH SOME PROFESSIONAL PERSONS,AND SHEDS A TEAR OVER THE FILIAL PIETY OF GOOD MR JONAS
Mr Pecksniff was in a hackney cabriolet, for Jonas Chuzzlewit had said'Spare no expense.' Mankind is evil in its thoughts and in its baseconstructions, and Jonas was resolved it should not have an inch tostretch into an ell against him. It never should be charged upon hisfather's son that he had grudged the money for his father's funeral.Hence, until the obsequies should be concluded, Jonas had taken for hismotto 'Spend, and spare not!'
Mr Pecksniff had been to the undertaker, and was now upon his way toanother officer in the train of mourning--a female functionary, a nurse,and watcher, and performer of nameless offices about the persons of thedead--whom he had recommended. Her name, as Mr Pecksniff gathered froma scrap of writing in his hand, was Gamp; her residence in KingsgateStreet, High Holborn. So Mr Pecksniff, in a hackney cab, was rattlingover Holborn stones, in quest of Mrs Gamp.
This lady lodged at a bird-fancier's, next door but one to thecelebrated mutton-pie shop, and directly opposite to the originalcat's-meat warehouse; the renown of which establishments was dulyheralded on their respective fronts. It was a little house, and this wasthe more convenient; for Mrs Gamp being, in her highest walk of art,a monthly nurse, or, as her sign-board boldly had it, 'Midwife,' andlodging in the first-floor front, was easily assailable at night bypebbles, walking-sticks, and fragments of tobacco-pipe; all much moreefficacious than the street-door knocker, which was so constructed asto wake the street with ease, and even spread alarms of fire in Holborn,without making the smallest impression on the premises to which it wasaddressed.
It chanced on this particular occasion, that Mrs Gamp had been up allthe previous night, in attendance upon a ceremony to which the usage ofgossips has given that name which expresses, in two syllables, the cursepronounced on Adam. It chanced that Mrs Gamp had not been regularlyengaged, but had been called in at a crisis, in consequence of her greatrepute, to assist another professional lady with her advice; and thus ithappened that, all points of interest in the case being over, Mrs Gamphad come home again to the bird-fancier's and gone to bed. So when MrPecksniff drove up in the hackney cab, Mrs Gamp's curtains were drawnclose, and Mrs Gamp was fast asleep behind them.
If the bird-fancier had been at home, as he ought to have been, therewould have been no great harm in this; but he was out, and his shop wasclosed. The shutters were down certainly; and in every pane of glassthere was at least one tiny bird in a tiny bird-cage, twittering andhopping his little ballet of despair, and knocking his head against theroof; while one unhappy goldfinch who lived outside a red villa withhis name on the door, drew the water for his own drinking, and mutelyappealed to some good man to drop a farthing's-worth of poison in it.Still, the door was shut. Mr Pecksniff tried the latch, and shook it,causing a cracked bell inside to ring most mournfully; but no one came.The bird-fancier was an easy shaver also, and a fashionable hair-dresseralso, and perhaps he had been sent for, express, from the court end ofthe town, to trim a lord, or cut and curl a lady; but however thatmight be, there, upon his own ground, he was not; nor was there any moredistinct trace of him to assist the imagination of an inquirer, thana professional print or emblem of his calling (much favoured in thetrade), representing a hair-dresser of easy manners curling a ladyof distinguished fashion, in the presence of a patent upright grandpianoforte.
Noting these circumstances, Mr Pecksniff, in the innocence of his heart,applied himself to the knocker; but at the first double knock everywindow in the street became alive with female heads; and before he couldrepeat the performance whole troops of married ladies (some about totrouble Mrs Gamp themselves very shortly) came flocking round the steps,all crying out with one accord, and with uncommon interest, 'Knock atthe winder, sir, knock at the winder. Lord bless you, don't lose no moretime than you can help--knock at the winder!'
Acting upon this suggestion, and borrowing the driver's whip for thepurpose, Mr Pecksniff soon made a commotion among the first floorflower-pots, and roused Mrs Gamp, whose voice--to the great satisfactionof the matrons--was heard to say, 'I'm coming.'
'He's as pale as a muffin,' said one lady, in allusion to Mr Pecksniff.
'So he ought to be, if he's the feelings of a man,' observed another.
A third lady (with her arms folded) said she wished he had chosen anyother time for fetching Mrs Gamp, but it always happened so with HER.
It gave Mr Pecksniff much uneasiness to find, from these remarks, thathe was supposed to have come to Mrs Gamp upon an errand touching--notthe close of life, but the other end. Mrs Gamp herself was under thesame impression, for, throwing open the window, she cried behind thecurtains, as she hastily attired herself--
'Is it Mrs Perkins?'
'No!' returned Mr Pecksniff, sharply. 'Nothing of the sort.'
'What, Mr Whilks!' cried Mrs Gamp. 'Don't say it's you, Mr Whilks, andthat poor creetur Mrs Whilks with not even a pincushion ready. Don't sayit's you, Mr Whilks!'
'It isn't Mr Whilks,' said Pecksniff. 'I don't know the man. Nothingof the kind. A gentleman is dead; and some person being wanted in thehouse, you have been recommended by Mr Mould the undertaker.'
As she was by this time in a condition to appear, Mrs Gamp, who hada face for all occasions, looked out of the window with her mourningcountenance, and said she would be down directly. But the matrons tookit very ill that Mr Pecksniff's mission was of so unimportant a kind;and the lady with her arms folded rated him in good round terms,signifying that she would be glad to know what he meant by terrifyingdelicate females 'with his corpses;' and giving it as her opinion thathe was quite ugly enough to know better. The other ladies were not atall behind-hand in expressing similar sentiments; and the children, ofwhom some scores had now collected, hooted and defied Mr Pecksniff quitesavagely. So when Mrs Gamp appeared, the unoffending gentleman was gladto hustle her with very little ceremony into the cabriolet, and driveoff, overwhelmed with popular execration.
Mrs Gamp had a large bundle with her, a pair of pattens, and a speciesof gig umbrella; the latter article in colour like a faded leaf, exceptwhere a circular patch of a lively blue had been dexterously let in atthe top. She was much flurried by the haste she had made, and labouredunder the most erroneous views of cabriolets, which she appearedto confound with mail-coaches or stage-wagons, inasmuch as she wasconstantly endeavouring for the first half mile to force her luggagethrough the little front window, and clamouring to the driver to 'putit in the boot.' When she was disabused of this idea, her whole beingresolved itself into an absorbing anxiety about her pattens, with whichshe played innumerable games at quoits on Mr Pecksniff's legs. It wasnot until they were close upon the house of mourning that she had enoughcomposure to observe--
'And so the gentleman's dead, sir! Ah! The more's the pity.' She didn'teven know his name. 'But it's what we must all come to. It's as certainas being born, except that we can't make our calculations as exact. Ah!Poor dear!'
She was a fat old woman, this Mrs Gamp, with a husky voice and a moisteye, which she had a remarkable power of turning up, and only showingthe white of it. Having very little neck, it cost her some trouble tolook over herself, if one may say so, at those to whom she talked. Shewore a very rusty black gown, rather the worse for snuff, and a shawland bonnet to correspond. In these dilapidated articles of dress shehad, on principle, arrayed herself, time out of mind, on such occasionsas the present; for this at once expressed a decent amount of venerationfor the deceased, and invited the next of kin to present her with afresher suit of weeds; an appeal so frequently successful, that the veryfetch and ghost of Mrs Gamp, bonnet and all, might be seen hanging up,any hour in the day, in at least a dozen of the second-hand clothesshops about Holborn. The face of Mrs Gamp--the nose in particular--wassomewhat red and swollen, and it was difficult to enjoy her societywithout becoming conscious of a smell of spirits. Like most persons whohave attained to great eminence in the
ir profession, she took to hersvery kindly; insomuch that, setting aside her natural predilections asa woman, she went to a lying-in or a laying-out with equal zest andrelish.
'Ah!' repeated Mrs Gamp; for it was always a safe sentiment in cases ofmourning. 'Ah dear! When Gamp was summoned to his long home, and I seehim a-lying in Guy's Hospital with a penny-piece on each eye, and hiswooden leg under his left arm, I thought I should have fainted away. ButI bore up.'
If certain whispers current in the Kingsgate Street circles had anytruth in them, she had indeed borne up surprisingly; and had exertedsuch uncommon fortitude as to dispose of Mr Gamp's remains for thebenefit of science. But it should be added, in fairness, that this hadhappened twenty years before; and that Mr and Mrs Gamp had long beenseparated on the ground of incompatibility of temper in their drink.
'You have become indifferent since then, I suppose?' said Mr Pecksniff.'Use is second nature, Mrs Gamp.'
'You may well say second nater, sir,' returned that lady. 'One's firstways is to find sich things a trial to the feelings, and so is one'slasting custom. If it wasn't for the nerve a little sip of liquor givesme (I never was able to do more than taste it), I never could go throughwith what I sometimes has to do. "Mrs Harris," I says, at the very lastcase as ever I acted in, which it was but a young person, "Mrs Harris,"I says, "leave the bottle on the chimley-piece, and don't ask me to takenone, but let me put my lips to it when I am so dispoged, and then Iwill do what I'm engaged to do, according to the best of my ability.""Mrs Gamp," she says, in answer, "if ever there was a sober creetur tobe got at eighteen pence a day for working people, and three and six forgentlefolks--night watching,"' said Mrs Gamp with emphasis, '"being aextra charge--you are that inwallable person." "Mrs Harris," I says toher, "don't name the charge, for if I could afford to lay all my fellercreeturs out for nothink, I would gladly do it, sich is the love I bears'em. But what I always says to them as has the management of matters,Mrs Harris"'--here she kept her eye on Mr Pecksniff--'"be they gents orbe they ladies, is, don't ask me whether I won't take none, or whether Iwill, but leave the bottle on the chimley-piece, and let me put my lipsto it when I am so dispoged."'
The conclusion of this affecting narrative brought them to the house. Inthe passage they encountered Mr Mould the undertaker; a little elderlygentleman, bald, and in a suit of black; with a notebook in his hand,a massive gold watch-chain dangling from his fob, and a face in which aqueer attempt at melancholy was at odds with a smirk of satisfaction; sothat he looked as a man might, who, in the very act of smacking his lipsover choice old wine, tried to make believe it was physic.
'Well, Mrs Gamp, and how are YOU, Mrs Gamp?' said this gentleman, in avoice as soft as his step.
'Pretty well, I thank you, sir,' dropping a curtsey.
'You'll be very particular here, Mrs Gamp. This is not a common case,Mrs Gamp. Let everything be very nice and comfortable, Mrs Gamp, if youplease,' said the undertaker, shaking his head with a solemn air.
'It shall be, sir,' she replied, curtseying again. 'You knows me of old,sir, I hope.'
'I hope so, too, Mrs Gamp,' said the undertaker, 'and I think so also.'Mrs Gamp curtseyed again. 'This is one of the most impressive cases,sir,' he continued, addressing Mr Pecksniff, 'that I have seen in thewhole course of my professional experience.'
'Indeed, Mr Mould!' cried that gentleman.
'Such affectionate regret, sir, I never saw. There is no limitation,there is positively NO limitation'--opening his eyes wide, and standingon tiptoe--'in point of expense! I have orders, sir, to put on my wholeestablishment of mutes; and mutes come very dear, Mr Pecksniff; not tomention their drink. To provide silver-plated handles of the very bestdescription, ornamented with angels' heads from the most expensivedies. To be perfectly profuse in feathers. In short, sir, to turn outsomething absolutely gorgeous.'
'My friend Mr Jonas is an excellent man,' said Mr Pecksniff.
'I have seen a good deal of what is filial in my time, sir,' retortedMould, 'and what is unfilial too. It is our lot. We come into theknowledge of those secrets. But anything so filial as this; anything sohonourable to human nature; so calculated to reconcile all of us to theworld we live in; never yet came under my observation. It onlyproves, sir, what was so forcibly observed by the lamented theatricalpoet--buried at Stratford--that there is good in everything.'
'It is very pleasant to hear you say so, Mr Mould,' observed Pecksniff.
'You are very kind, sir. And what a man Mr Chuzzlewit was, sir! Ah! whata man he was. You may talk of your lord mayors,' said Mould, waving hishand at the public in general, 'your sheriffs, your common councilmen,your trumpery; but show me a man in this city who is worthy to walkin the shoes of the departed Mr Chuzzlewit. No, no,' cried Mould, withbitter sarcasm. 'Hang 'em up, hang 'em up; sole 'em and heel 'em, andhave 'em ready for his son against he's old enough to wear 'em; butdon't try 'em on yourselves, for they won't fit you. We knew him,' saidMould, in the same biting vein, as he pocketed his note-book; 'weknew him, and are not to be caught with chaff. Mr Pecksniff, sir, goodmorning.'
Mr Pecksniff returned the compliment; and Mould, sensible of havingdistinguished himself, was going away with a brisk smile, when hefortunately remembered the occasion. Quickly becoming depressed again,he sighed; looked into the crown of his hat, as if for comfort; put iton without finding any; and slowly departed.
Mrs Gamp and Mr Pecksniff then ascended the staircase; and the former,having been shown to the chamber in which all that remained of AnthonyChuzzlewit lay covered up, with but one loving heart, and that a haltingone, to mourn it, left the latter free to enter the darkened room below,and rejoin Mr Jonas, from whom he had now been absent nearly two hours.
He found that example to bereaved sons, and pattern in the eyes of allperformers of funerals, musing over a fragment of writing-paper on thedesk, and scratching figures on it with a pen. The old man's chair, andhat, and walking-stick, were removed from their accustomed places, andput out of sight; the window-blinds as yellow as November fogs, weredrawn down close; Jonas himself was so subdued, that he could scarcelybe heard to speak, and only seen to walk across the room.
'Pecksniff,' he said, in a whisper, 'you shall have the regulation ofit all, mind! You shall be able to tell anybody who talks about it thateverything was correctly and nicely done. There isn't any one you'd liketo ask to the funeral, is there?'
'No, Mr Jonas, I think not.'
'Because if there is, you know,' said Jonas, 'ask him. We don't want tomake a secret of it.'
'No,' repeated Mr Pecksniff, after a little reflection. 'I am notthe less obliged to you on that account, Mr Jonas, for your liberalhospitality; but there really is no one.'
'Very well,' said Jonas; 'then you, and I, and Chuffey, and the doctor,will be just a coachful. We'll have the doctor, Pecksniff, because heknows what was the matter with him, and that it couldn't be helped.'
'Where is our dear friend, Mr Chuffey?' asked Pecksniff, looking roundthe chamber, and winking both his eyes at once--for he was overcome byhis feelings.
But here he was interrupted by Mrs Gamp, who, divested of her bonnet andshawl, came sidling and bridling into the room; and with some sharpnessdemanded a conference outside the door with Mr Pecksniff.
'You may say whatever you wish to say here, Mrs Gamp,' said thatgentleman, shaking his head with a melancholy expression.
'It is not much as I have to say when people is a-mourning for the deadand gone,' said Mrs Gamp; 'but what I have to say is TO the pint andpurpose, and no offence intended, must be so considered. I have been ata many places in my time, gentlemen, and I hope I knows what my dutiesis, and how the same should be performed; in course, if I did not, itwould be very strange, and very wrong in sich a gentleman as Mr Mould,which has undertook the highest families in this land, and given everysatisfaction, so to recommend me as he does. I have seen a deal oftrouble my own self,' said Mrs Gamp, laying greater and greater stressupon her words, 'and I can feel for them as has their feelings tried,
but I am not a Rooshan or a Prooshan, and consequently cannot sufferSpies to be set over me.'
Before it was possible that an answer could be returned, Mrs Gamp,growing redder in the face, went on to say:
'It is not a easy matter, gentlemen, to live when you are left a widderwoman; particular when your feelings works upon you to that extent thatyou often find yourself a-going out on terms which is a certain loss,and never can repay. But in whatever way you earns your bread, you mayhave rules and regulations of your own which cannot be broke through.Some people,' said Mrs Gamp, again entrenching herself behind herstrong point, as if it were not assailable by human ingenuity, 'may beRooshans, and others may be Prooshans; they are born so, and will pleasethemselves. Them which is of other naturs thinks different.'
'If I understand this good lady,' said Mr Pecksniff, turning to Jonas,'Mr Chuffey is troublesome to her. Shall I fetch him down?'
'Do,' said Jonas. 'I was going to tell you he was up there, when shecame in. I'd go myself and bring him down, only--only I'd rather youwent, if you don't mind.'
Mr Pecksniff promptly departed, followed by Mrs Gamp, who, seeing thathe took a bottle and glass from the cupboard, and carried it in hishand, was much softened.
'I am sure,' she said, 'that if it wasn't for his own happiness, Ishould no more mind him being there, poor dear, than if he was afly. But them as isn't used to these things, thinks so much of 'emafterwards, that it's a kindness to 'em not to let 'em have their wish.And even,' said Mrs Gamp, probably in reference to some flowers ofspeech she had already strewn on Mr Chuffey, 'even if one calls 'emnames, it's only done to rouse 'em.'
Whatever epithets she had bestowed on the old clerk, they had notroused HIM. He sat beside the bed, in the chair he had occupied all theprevious night, with his hands folded before him, and his head boweddown; and neither looked up, on their entrance, nor gave any sign ofconsciousness, until Mr Pecksniff took him by the arm, when he meeklyrose.
'Three score and ten,' said Chuffey, 'ought and carry seven. Some menare so strong that they live to four score--four times ought's an ought,four times two's an eight--eighty. Oh! why--why--why didn't he live tofour times ought's an ought, and four times two's an eight, eighty?'
'Ah! what a wale of grief!' cried Mrs Gamp, possessing herself of thebottle and glass.
'Why did he die before his poor old crazy servant?' said Chuffey,clasping his hands and looking up in anguish. 'Take him from me, andwhat remains?'
'Mr Jonas,' returned Pecksniff, 'Mr Jonas, my good friend.'
'I loved him,' cried the old man, weeping. 'He was good to me. We learntTare and Tret together at school. I took him down once, six boys in thearithmetic class. God forgive me! Had I the heart to take him down!'
'Come, Mr Chuffey,' said Pecksniff. 'Come with me. Summon up yourfortitude, Mr Chuffey.'
'Yes, I will,' returned the old clerk. 'Yes. I'll sum up my forty--Howmany times forty--Oh, Chuzzlewit and Son--Your own son Mr Chuzzlewit;your own son, sir!'
He yielded to the hand that guided him, as he lapsed into this familiarexpression, and submitted to be led away. Mrs Gamp, with the bottle onone knee, and the glass on the other, sat upon a stool, shaking her headfor a long time, until, in a moment of abstraction, she poured outa dram of spirits, and raised it to her lips. It was succeeded by asecond, and by a third, and then her eyes--either in the sadness ofher reflections upon life and death, or in her admiration of theliquor--were so turned up, as to be quite invisible. But she shook herhead still.
Poor Chuffey was conducted to his accustomed corner, and there heremained, silent and quiet, save at long intervals, when he would rise,and walk about the room, and wring his hands, or raise some strange andsudden cry. For a whole week they all three sat about the hearth andnever stirred abroad. Mr Pecksniff would have walked out in the eveningtime, but Mr Jonas was so averse to his being absent for a minute, thathe abandoned the idea, and so, from morning until night, they broodedtogether in the dark room, without relief or occupation.
The weight of that which was stretched out, stiff and stark, in theawful chamber above-stairs, so crushed and bore down Jonas, that he bentbeneath the load. During the whole long seven days and nights, he wasalways oppressed and haunted by a dreadful sense of its presence in thehouse. Did the door move, he looked towards it with a livid face andstarting eye, as if he fully believed that ghostly fingers clutched thehandle. Did the fire flicker in a draught of air, he glanced over hisshoulder, as almost dreading to behold some shrouded figure fanning andflapping at it with its fearful dress. The lightest noise disturbed him;and once, in the night, at the sound of a footstep overhead, he criedout that the dead man was walking--tramp, tramp, tramp--about hiscoffin.
He lay at night upon a mattress on the floor of the sitting-room; hisown chamber having been assigned to Mrs Gamp; and Mr Pecksniff wassimilarly accommodated. The howling of a dog before the house, filledhim with a terror he could not disguise. He avoided the reflection inthe opposite windows of the light that burned above, as though it hadbeen an angry eye. He often, in every night, rose up from his fitfulsleep, and looked and longed for dawn; all directions and arrangements,even to the ordering of their daily meals, he abandoned to Mr Pecksniff.That excellent gentleman, deeming that the mourner wanted comfort, andthat high feeding was likely to do him infinite service, availed himselfof these opportunities to such good purpose, that they kept quite adainty table during this melancholy season; with sweetbreads, stewedkidneys, oysters, and other such light viands for supper every night;over which, and sundry jorums of hot punch, Mr Pecksniff delivered suchmoral reflections and spiritual consolation as might have converted aHeathen--especially if he had had but an imperfect acquaintance with theEnglish tongue.
Nor did Mr Pecksniff alone indulge in the creature comforts duringthis sad time. Mrs Gamp proved to be very choice in her eating, andrepudiated hashed mutton with scorn. In her drinking too, she was verypunctual and particular, requiring a pint of mild porter at lunch, apint at dinner, half-a-pint as a species of stay or holdfast betweendinner and tea, and a pint of the celebrated staggering ale, or Real OldBrighton Tipper, at supper; besides the bottle on the chimney-piece,and such casual invitations to refresh herself with wine as the goodbreeding of her employers might prompt them to offer. In like manner, MrMould's men found it necessary to drown their grief, like a young kittenin the morning of its existence, for which reason they generally fuddledthemselves before they began to do anything, lest it should make headand get the better of them. In short, the whole of that strange week wasa round of dismal joviality and grim enjoyment; and every one, exceptpoor Chuffey, who came within the shadow of Anthony Chuzzlewit's grave,feasted like a Ghoul.
At length the day of the funeral, pious and truthful ceremony that itwas, arrived. Mr Mould, with a glass of generous port between his eyeand the light, leaned against the desk in the little glass office withhis gold watch in his unoccupied hand, and conversed with Mrs Gamp; twomutes were at the house-door, looking as mournful as could be reasonablyexpected of men with such a thriving job in hand; the whole of MrMould's establishment were on duty within the house or without; featherswaved, horses snorted, silk and velvets fluttered; in a word, as MrMould emphatically said, 'Everything that money could do was done.'
'And what can do more, Mrs Gamp?' exclaimed the undertaker as he emptiedhis glass and smacked his lips.
'Nothing in the world, sir.'
'Nothing in the world,' repeated Mr Mould. 'You are right, Mrs Gamp.Why do people spend more money'--here he filled his glass again--'upon adeath, Mrs Gamp, than upon a birth? Come, that's in your way; you oughtto know. How do you account for that now?'
'Perhaps it is because an undertaker's charges comes dearer than anurse's charges, sir,' said Mrs Gamp, tittering, and smoothing down hernew black dress with her hands.
'Ha, ha!' laughed Mr Mould. 'You have been breakfasting at somebody'sexpense this morning, Mrs Gamp.' But seeing, by the aid of a littleshaving-glass which hung opposite, that he looke
d merry, he composed hisfeatures and became sorrowful.
'Many's the time that I've not breakfasted at my own expense along ofyour recommending, sir; and many's the time I hope to do the same intime to come,' said Mrs Gamp, with an apologetic curtsey.
'So be it,' replied Mr Mould, 'please Providence. No, Mrs Gamp;I'll tell you why it is. It's because the laying out of money with awell-conducted establishment, where the thing is performed upon thevery best scale, binds the broken heart, and sheds balm upon the woundedspirit. Hearts want binding, and spirits want balming when people die;not when people are born. Look at this gentleman to-day; look at him.'
'An open-handed gentleman?' cried Mrs Gamp, with enthusiasm.
'No, no,' said the undertaker; 'not an open-handed gentleman in general,by any means. There you mistake him; but an afflicted gentleman, anaffectionate gentleman, who knows what it is in the power of money todo, in giving him relief, and in testifying his love and veneration forthe departed. It can give him,' said Mr Mould, waving his watch-chainslowly round and round, so that he described one circle after everyitem; 'it can give him four horses to each vehicle; it can give himvelvet trappings; it can give him drivers in cloth cloaks and top-boots;it can give him the plumage of the ostrich, dyed black; it can give himany number of walking attendants, dressed in the first style of funeralfashion, and carrying batons tipped with brass; it can give him ahandsome tomb; it can give him a place in Westminster Abbey itself, ifhe choose to invest it in such a purchase. Oh! do not let us say thatgold is dross, when it can buy such things as these, Mrs Gamp.'
'But what a blessing, sir,' said Mrs Gamp, 'that there are such as you,to sell or let 'em out on hire!'
'Aye, Mrs Gamp, you are right,' rejoined the undertaker. 'We shouldbe an honoured calling. We do good by stealth, and blush to have itmentioned in our little bills. How much consolation may I--even I,'cried Mr Mould, 'have diffused among my fellow-creatures by means of myfour long-tailed prancers, never harnessed under ten pund ten!'
Mrs Gamp had begun to make a suitable reply, when she was interruptedby the appearance of one of Mr Mould's assistants--his chief mourner infact--an obese person, with his waistcoat in closer connection with hislegs than is quite reconcilable with the established ideas of grace;with that cast of feature which is figuratively called a bottle nose;and with a face covered all over with pimples. He had been a tenderplant once upon a time, but from constant blowing in the fat atmosphereof funerals, had run to seed.
'Well, Tacker,' said Mr Mould, 'is all ready below?'
'A beautiful show, sir,' rejoined Tacker. 'The horses are prouder andfresher than ever I see 'em; and toss their heads, they do, as if theyknowed how much their plumes cost. One, two, three, four,' said MrTacker, heaping that number of black cloaks upon his left arm.
'Is Tom there, with the cake and wine?' asked Mr Mould.
'Ready to come in at a moment's notice, sir,' said Tacker.
'Then,' rejoined Mr Mould, putting up his watch, and glancing at himselfin the little shaving-glass, that he might be sure his face had theright expression on it; 'then I think we may proceed to business. Giveme the paper of gloves, Tacker. Ah, what a man he was! Ah, Tacker,Tacker, what a man he was!'
Mr Tacker, who from his great experience in the performance of funerals,would have made an excellent pantomime actor, winked at Mrs Gamp withoutat all disturbing the gravity of his countenance, and followed hismaster into the next room.
It was a great point with Mr Mould, and a part of his professionaltact, not to seem to know the doctor; though in reality they were nearneighbours, and very often, as in the present instance, worked together.So he advanced to fit on his black kid gloves as if he had never seenhim in all his life; while the doctor, on his part, looked as distantand unconscious as if he had heard and read of undertakers, and hadpassed their shops, but had never before been brought into communicationwith one.
'Gloves, eh?' said the doctor. 'Mr Pecksniff after you.'
'I couldn't think of it,' returned Mr Pecksniff.
'You are very good,' said the doctor, taking a pair. 'Well, sir, as Iwas saying--I was called up to attend that case at about half-past oneo'clock. Cake and wine, eh? Which is port? Thank you.'
Mr Pecksniff took some also.
'At about half-past one o'clock in the morning, sir,' resumed thedoctor, 'I was called up to attend that case. At the first pull ofthe night-bell I turned out, threw up the window, and put out my head.Cloak, eh? Don't tie it too tight. That'll do.'
Mr Pecksniff having been likewise inducted into a similar garment, thedoctor resumed.
'And put out my head--hat, eh? My good friend, that is not mine. MrPecksniff, I beg your pardon, but I think we have unintentionally madean exchange. Thank you. Well, sir, I was going to tell you--'
'We are quite ready,' interrupted Mould in a low voice.
'Ready, eh?' said the doctor. 'Very good, Mr Pecksniff, I'll take anopportunity of relating the rest in the coach. It's rather curious.Ready, eh? No rain, I hope?'
'Quite fair, sir,' returned Mould.
'I was afraid the ground would have been wet,' said the doctor, 'formy glass fell yesterday. We may congratulate ourselves upon our goodfortune.' But seeing by this time that Mr Jonas and Chuffey were goingout at the door, he put a white pocket-handkerchief to his face as if aviolent burst of grief had suddenly come upon him, and walked down sideby side with Mr Pecksniff.
Mr Mould and his men had not exaggerated the grandeur of thearrangements. They were splendid. The four hearse-horses, especially,reared and pranced, and showed their highest action, as if they knew aman was dead, and triumphed in it. 'They break us, drive us, ride us;ill-treat, abuse, and maim us for their pleasure--But they die; Hurrah,they die!'
So through the narrow streets and winding city ways, went AnthonyChuzzlewit's funeral; Mr Jonas glancing stealthily out of thecoach-window now and then, to observe its effect upon the crowd;Mr Mould as he walked along, listening with a sober pride to theexclamations of the bystanders; the doctor whispering his story to MrPecksniff, without appearing to come any nearer the end of it; andpoor old Chuffey sobbing unregarded in a corner. But he had greatlyscandalized Mr Mould at an early stage of the ceremony by carrying hishandkerchief in his hat in a perfectly informal manner, and wiping hiseyes with his knuckles. And as Mr Mould himself had said already, hisbehaviour was indecent, and quite unworthy of such an occasion; and henever ought to have been there.
There he was, however; and in the churchyard there he was, also,conducting himself in a no less unbecoming manner, and leaning forsupport on Tacker, who plainly told him that he was fit for nothingbetter than a walking funeral. But Chuffey, Heaven help him! heard nosound but the echoes, lingering in his own heart, of a voice for eversilent.
'I loved him,' cried the old man, sinking down upon the grave when allwas done. 'He was very good to me. Oh, my dear old friend and master!'
'Come, come, Mr Chuffey,' said the doctor, 'this won't do; it's a clayeysoil, Mr Chuffey. You mustn't, really.'
'If it had been the commonest thing we do, and Mr Chuffey had been aBearer, gentlemen,' said Mould, casting an imploring glance upon them,as he helped to raise him, 'he couldn't have gone on worse than this.'
'Be a man, Mr Chuffey,' said Pecksniff.
'Be a gentleman, Mr Chuffey,' said Mould.
'Upon my word, my good friend,' murmured the doctor, in a tone ofstately reproof, as he stepped up to the old man's side, 'this is worsethan weakness. This is bad, selfish, very wrong, Mr Chuffey. You shouldtake example from others, my good sir. You forget that you were notconnected by ties of blood with our deceased friend; and that he had avery near and very dear relation, Mr Chuffey.'
'Aye, his own son!' cried the old man, clasping his hands withremarkable passion. 'His own, own, only son!'
'He's not right in his head, you know,' said Jonas, turning pale.'You're not to mind anything he says. I shouldn't wonder if he wasto talk some precious nonsense. But don't you mind him, any of you. Idon't.
My father left him to my charge; and whatever he says or does,that's enough. I'll take care of him.'
A hum of admiration rose from the mourners (including Mr Mould and hismerry men) at this new instance of magnanimity and kind feeling on thepart of Jonas. But Chuffey put it to the test no farther. He said nota word more, and being left to himself for a little while, crept backagain to the coach.
It has been said that Mr Jonas turned pale when the behaviour of the oldclerk attracted general attention; his discomposure, however, was butmomentary, and he soon recovered. But these were not the only changeshe had exhibited that day. The curious eyes of Mr Pecksniff had observedthat as soon as they left the house upon their mournful errand, he beganto mend; that as the ceremonies proceeded he gradually, by little andlittle, recovered his old condition, his old looks, his old bearing, hisold agreeable characteristics of speech and manner, and became, in allrespects, his old pleasant self. And now that they were seated in thecoach on their return home; and more when they got there, and found thewindows open, the light and air admitted, and all traces of the lateevent removed; he felt so well convinced that Jonas was again the Jonashe had known a week ago, and not the Jonas of the intervening time, thathe voluntarily gave up his recently-acquired power without one faintattempt to exercise it, and at once fell back into his former positionof mild and deferential guest.
Mrs Gamp went home to the bird-fancier's, and was knocked up again thatvery night for a birth of twins; Mr Mould dined gayly in the bosom ofhis family, and passed the evening facetiously at his club; the hearse,after standing for a long time at the door of a roistering public-house,repaired to its stables with the feathers inside and twelve red-nosedundertakers on the roof, each holding on by a dingy peg, to which, intimes of state, a waving plume was fitted; the various trappings ofsorrow were carefully laid by in presses for the next hirer; the fierysteeds were quenched and quiet in their stalls; the doctor got merrywith wine at a wedding-dinner, and forgot the middle of the story whichhad no end to it; the pageant of a few short hours ago was writtennowhere half so legibly as in the undertaker's books.
Not in the churchyard? Not even there. The gates were closed; the nightwas dark and wet; the rain fell silently, among the stagnant weeds andnettles. One new mound was there which had not been there last night.Time, burrowing like a mole below the ground, had marked his track bythrowing up another heap of earth. And that was all.