Martin Chuzzlewit

  CHAPTER THREE

  IN WHICH CERTAIN OTHER PERSONS ARE INTRODUCED; ON THE SAME TERMS AS INTHE LAST CHAPTER

  Mention has been already made more than once, of a certain Dragon whoswung and creaked complainingly before the village alehouse door. Afaded, and an ancient dragon he was; and many a wintry storm of rain,snow, sleet, and hail, had changed his colour from a gaudy blue to afaint lack-lustre shade of grey. But there he hung; rearing, in a stateof monstrous imbecility, on his hind legs; waxing, with every month thatpassed, so much more dim and shapeless, that as you gazed at him onone side of the sign-board it seemed as if he must be gradually meltingthrough it, and coming out upon the other.

  He was a courteous and considerate dragon, too; or had been in hisdistincter days; for in the midst of his rampant feebleness, he keptone of his forepaws near his nose, as though he would say, 'Don'tmind me--it's only my fun;' while he held out the other in polite andhospitable entreaty. Indeed it must be conceded to the whole broodof dragons of modern times, that they have made a great advance incivilisation and refinement. They no longer demand a beautiful virginfor breakfast every morning, with as much regularity as any tame singlegentleman expects his hot roll, but rest content with the society ofidle bachelors and roving married men; and they are now remarkablerather for holding aloof from the softer sex and discouraging theirvisits (especially on Saturday nights), than for rudely insisting ontheir company without any reference to their inclinations, as they areknown to have done in days of yore.

  Nor is this tribute to the reclaimed animals in question so wide adigression into the realms of Natural History as it may, at first sight,appear to be; for the present business of these pages in with the dragonwho had his retreat in Mr Pecksniff's neighbourhood, and that courteousanimal being already on the carpet, there is nothing in the way of itsimmediate transaction.

  For many years, then, he had swung and creaked, and flapped himselfabout, before the two windows of the best bedroom of that house ofentertainment to which he lent his name; but never in all his swinging,creaking, and flapping, had there been such a stir within its dingyprecincts, as on the evening next after that upon which the incidents,detailed in the last chapter occurred; when there was such a hurrying upand down stairs of feet, such a glancing of lights, such a whisperingof voices, such a smoking and sputtering of wood newly lighted in adamp chimney, such an airing of linen, such a scorching smell of hotwarming-pans, such a domestic bustle and to-do, in short, as neverdragon, griffin, unicorn, or other animal of that species presided over,since they first began to interest themselves in household affairs.

  An old gentleman and a young lady, travelling, unattended, in a rustyold chariot with post-horses; coming nobody knew whence and going nobodyknew whither; had turned out of the high road, and driven unexpectedlyto the Blue Dragon; and here was the old gentleman, who had taken thisstep by reason of his sudden illness in the carriage, suffering the mosthorrible cramps and spasms, yet protesting and vowing in the very midstof his pain, that he wouldn't have a doctor sent for, and wouldn't takeany remedies but those which the young lady administered from a smallmedicine-chest, and wouldn't, in a word, do anything but terrify thelandlady out of her five wits, and obstinately refuse compliance withevery suggestion that was made to him.

  Of all the five hundred proposals for his relief which the good womanpoured out in less than half an hour, he would entertain but one. Thatwas that he should go to bed. And it was in the preparation of his bedand the arrangement of his chamber, that all the stir was made in theroom behind the Dragon.

  He was, beyond all question, very ill, and suffered exceedingly; not theless, perhaps, because he was a strong and vigorous old man, with a willof iron, and a voice of brass. But neither the apprehensions whichhe plainly entertained, at times, for his life, nor the great pain heunderwent, influenced his resolution in the least degree. He would haveno person sent for. The worse he grew, the more rigid and inflexible hebecame in his determination. If they sent for any person to attend him,man, woman, or child, he would leave the house directly (so he toldthem), though he quitted it on foot, and died upon the threshold of thedoor.

  Now, there being no medical practitioner actually resident in thevillage, but a poor apothecary who was also a grocer and general dealer,the landlady had, upon her own responsibility, sent for him, in thevery first burst and outset of the disaster. Of course it followed, asa necessary result of his being wanted, that he was not at home. He hadgone some miles away, and was not expected home until late at night; sothe landlady, being by this time pretty well beside herself, dispatchedthe same messenger in all haste for Mr Pecksniff, as a learned manwho could bear a deal of responsibility, and a moral man who couldadminister a world of comfort to a troubled mind. That her guest hadneed of some efficient services under the latter head was obvious enoughfrom the restless expressions, importing, however, rather a worldly thana spiritual anxiety, to which he gave frequent utterance.

  From this last-mentioned secret errand, the messenger returned with nobetter news than from the first; Mr Pecksniff was not at home. However,they got the patient into bed without him; and in the course of twohours, he gradually became so far better that there were much longerintervals than at first between his terms of suffering. By degrees, heceased to suffer at all; though his exhaustion was occasionally so greatthat it suggested hardly less alarm than his actual endurance had done.

  It was in one of his intervals of repose, when, looking round withgreat caution, and reaching uneasily out of his nest of pillows, heendeavoured, with a strange air of secrecy and distrust, to make useof the writing materials which he had ordered to be placed on a tablebeside him, that the young lady and the mistress of the Blue Dragonfound themselves sitting side by side before the fire in the sickchamber.

  The mistress of the Blue Dragon was in outward appearance just what alandlady should be: broad, buxom, comfortable, and good looking, with aface of clear red and white, which, by its jovial aspect, at once boretestimony to her hearty participation in the good things of the larderand cellar, and to their thriving and healthful influences. She was awidow, but years ago had passed through her state of weeds, and burstinto flower again; and in full bloom she had continued ever since; andin full bloom she was now; with roses on her ample skirts, and roseson her bodice, roses in her cap, roses in her cheeks,--aye, and roses,worth the gathering too, on her lips, for that matter. She had still abright black eye, and jet black hair; was comely, dimpled, plump, andtight as a gooseberry; and though she was not exactly what the worldcalls young, you may make an affidavit, on trust, before any mayor ormagistrate in Christendom, that there are a great many young ladies inthe world (blessings on them one and all!) whom you wouldn't like halfas well, or admire half as much, as the beaming hostess of the BlueDragon.

  As this fair matron sat beside the fire, she glanced occasionally withall the pride of ownership, about the room; which was a large apartment,such as one may see in country places, with a low roof and a sunkenflooring, all downhill from the door, and a descent of two steps onthe inside so exquisitely unexpected, that strangers, despite themost elaborate cautioning, usually dived in head first, as into aplunging-bath. It was none of your frivolous and preposterously brightbedrooms, where nobody can close an eye with any kind of propriety ordecent regard to the association of ideas; but it was a good, dull,leaden, drowsy place, where every article of furniture reminded youthat you came there to sleep, and that you were expected to go to sleep.There was no wakeful reflection of the fire there, as in your modernchambers, which upon the darkest nights have a watchful consciousness ofFrench polish; the old Spanish mahogany winked at it now and then, asa dozing cat or dog might, nothing more. The very size and shape, andhopeless immovability of the bedstead, and wardrobe, and in a minordegree of even the chairs and tables, provoked sleep; they were plainlyapoplectic and disposed to snore. There were no staring portraitsto remonstrate with you for being lazy; no round-eyed birds upon thecurtains, disgustingly wide awake, and
insufferably prying. Thethick neutral hangings, and the dark blinds, and the heavy heapof bed-clothes, were all designed to hold in sleep, and act asnonconductors to the day and getting up. Even the old stuffed fox uponthe top of the wardrobe was devoid of any spark of vigilance, for hisglass eye had fallen out, and he slumbered as he stood.

  The wandering attention of the mistress of the Blue Dragon roved tothese things but twice or thrice, and then for but an instant at a time.It soon deserted them, and even the distant bed with its strange burden,for the young creature immediately before her, who, with her downcasteyes intently fixed upon the fire, sat wrapped in silent meditation.

  She was very young; apparently no more than seventeen; timid andshrinking in her manner, and yet with a greater share of self possessionand control over her emotions than usually belongs to a far moreadvanced period of female life. This she had abundantly shown, but now,in her tending of the sick gentleman. She was short in stature; and herfigure was slight, as became her years; but all the charms of youth andmaidenhood set it off, and clustered on her gentle brow. Her face wasvery pale, in part no doubt from recent agitation. Her dark brown hair,disordered from the same cause, had fallen negligently from its bonds,and hung upon her neck; for which instance of its waywardness no maleobserver would have had the heart to blame it.

  Her attire was that of a lady, but extremely plain; and in her manner,even when she sat as still as she did then, there was an indefinablesomething which appeared to be in kindred with her scrupulouslyunpretending dress. She had sat, at first looking anxiously towards thebed; but seeing that the patient remained quiet, and was busy with hiswriting, she had softly moved her chair into its present place; partly,as it seemed, from an instinctive consciousness that he desired to avoidobservation; and partly that she might, unseen by him, give some vent tothe natural feelings she had hitherto suppressed.

  Of all this, and much more, the rosy landlady of the Blue Dragon tookas accurate note and observation as only woman can take of woman. And atlength she said, in a voice too low, she knew, to reach the bed:

  'You have seen the gentleman in this way before, miss? Is he used tothese attacks?'

  'I have seen him very ill before, but not so ill as he has beentonight.'

  'What a Providence!' said the landlady of the Dragon, 'that you had theprescriptions and the medicines with you, miss!'

  'They are intended for such an emergency. We never travel without them.'

  'Oh!' thought the hostess, 'then we are in the habit of travelling, andof travelling together.'

  She was so conscious of expressing this in her face, that meetingthe young lady's eyes immediately afterwards, and being a very honesthostess, she was rather confused.

  'The gentleman--your grandpapa'--she resumed, after a short pause,'being so bent on having no assistance, must terrify you very much,miss?'

  'I have been very much alarmed to-night. He--he is not my grandfather.'

  'Father, I should have said,' returned the hostess, sensible of havingmade an awkward mistake.

  'Nor my father' said the young lady. 'Nor,' she added, slightly smilingwith a quick perception of what the landlady was going to add, 'Nor myuncle. We are not related.'

  'Oh dear me!' returned the landlady, still more embarrassed than before;'how could I be so very much mistaken; knowing, as anybody in theirproper senses might that when a gentleman is ill, he looks so much olderthan he really is? That I should have called you "Miss," too, ma'am!'But when she had proceeded thus far, she glanced involuntarily at thethird finger of the young lady's left hand, and faltered again; forthere was no ring upon it.

  'When I told you we were not related,' said the other mildly, but notwithout confusion on her own part, 'I meant not in any way. Not even bymarriage. Did you call me, Martin?'

  'Call you?' cried the old man, looking quickly up, and hurriedly drawingbeneath the coverlet the paper on which he had been writing. 'No.'

  She had moved a pace or two towards the bed, but stopped immediately,and went no farther.

  'No,' he repeated, with a petulant emphasis. 'Why do you ask me? If Ihad called you, what need for such a question?'

  'It was the creaking of the sign outside, sir, I dare say,' observed thelandlady; a suggestion by the way (as she felt a moment after she hadmade it), not at all complimentary to the voice of the old gentleman.

  'No matter what, ma'am,' he rejoined: 'it wasn't I. Why how you standthere, Mary, as if I had the plague! But they're all afraid of me,' headded, leaning helplessly backward on his pillow; 'even she! There is acurse upon me. What else have I to look for?'

  'Oh dear, no. Oh no, I'm sure,' said the good-tempered landlady, rising,and going towards him. 'Be of better cheer, sir. These are only sickfancies.'

  'What are only sick fancies?' he retorted. 'What do you know aboutfancies? Who told you about fancies? The old story! Fancies!'

  'Only see again there, how you take one up!' said the mistress of theBlue Dragon, with unimpaired good humour. 'Dear heart alive, there isno harm in the word, sir, if it is an old one. Folks in good health havetheir fancies, too, and strange ones, every day.'

  Harmless as this speech appeared to be, it acted on the traveller'sdistrust, like oil on fire. He raised his head up in the bed, and,fixing on her two dark eyes whose brightness was exaggerated by thepaleness of his hollow cheeks, as they in turn, together with hisstraggling locks of long grey hair, were rendered whiter by the tightblack velvet skullcap which he wore, he searched her face intently.

  'Ah! you begin too soon,' he said, in so low a voice that he seemed tobe thinking it, rather than addressing her. 'But you lose no time. Youdo your errand, and you earn your fee. Now, who may be your client?'

  The landlady looked in great astonishment at her whom he called Mary,and finding no rejoinder in the drooping face, looked back again at him.At first she had recoiled involuntarily, supposing him disordered inhis mind; but the slow composure of his manner, and the settled purposeannounced in his strong features, and gathering, most of all, about hispuckered mouth, forbade the supposition.

  'Come,' he said, 'tell me who is it? Being here, it is not very hard forme to guess, you may suppose.'

  'Martin,' interposed the young lady, laying her hand upon his arm;'reflect how short a time we have been in this house, and that even yourname is unknown here.'

  'Unless,' he said, 'you--' He was evidently tempted to express asuspicion of her having broken his confidence in favour of the landlady,but either remembering her tender nursing, or being moved in some sortby her face, he checked himself, and changing his uneasy posture in thebed, was silent.

  'There!' said Mrs Lupin; for in that name the Blue Dragon was licensedto furnish entertainment, both to man and beast. 'Now, you will be wellagain, sir. You forgot, for the moment, that there were none but friendshere.'

  'Oh!' cried the old man, moaning impatiently, as he tossed one restlessarm upon the coverlet; 'why do you talk to me of friends! Can you oranybody teach me to know who are my friends, and who my enemies?'

  'At least,' urged Mrs Lupin, gently, 'this young lady is your friend, Iam sure.'

  'She has no temptation to be otherwise,' cried the old man, like onewhose hope and confidence were utterly exhausted. 'I suppose she is.Heaven knows. There, let me try to sleep. Leave the candle where it is.'

  As they retired from the bed, he drew forth the writing which hadoccupied him so long, and holding it in the flame of the taper burntit to ashes. That done, he extinguished the light, and turning his faceaway with a heavy sigh, drew the coverlet about his head, and lay quitestill.

  This destruction of the paper, both as being strangely inconsistent withthe labour he had devoted to it, and as involving considerable danger offire to the Dragon, occasioned Mrs Lupin not a little consternation. Butthe young lady evincing no surprise, curiosity, or alarm, whispered her,with many thanks for her solicitude and company, that she would remainthere some time longer; and that she begged her not to share her watch,as she was well used to
being alone, and would pass the time in reading.

  Mrs Lupin had her full share and dividend of that large capital ofcuriosity which is inherited by her sex, and at another time it mighthave been difficult so to impress this hint upon her as to induce her totake it. But now, in sheer wonder and amazement at these mysteries, shewithdrew at once, and repairing straightway to her own little parlourbelow stairs, sat down in her easy-chair with unnatural composure.At this very crisis, a step was heard in the entry, and Mr Pecksniff,looking sweetly over the half-door of the bar, and into the vista ofsnug privacy beyond, murmured:

  'Good evening, Mrs Lupin!'

  'Oh dear me, sir!' she cried, advancing to receive him, 'I am so veryglad you have come.'

  'And I am very glad I have come,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'if I can be ofservice. I am very glad I have come. What is the matter, Mrs Lupin?'

  'A gentleman taken ill upon the road, has been so very bad upstairs,sir,' said the tearful hostess.

  'A gentleman taken ill upon the road, has been so very bad upstairs, hashe?' repeated Mr Pecksniff. 'Well, well!'

  Now there was nothing that one may call decidedly original in thisremark, nor can it be exactly said to have contained any wise precepttheretofore unknown to mankind, or to have opened any hidden source ofconsolation; but Mr Pecksniff's manner was so bland, and he nodded hishead so soothingly, and showed in everything such an affable sense ofhis own excellence, that anybody would have been, as Mrs Lupin was,comforted by the mere voice and presence of such a man; and, though hehad merely said 'a verb must agree with its nominative case in numberand person, my good friend,' or 'eight times eight are sixty-four, myworthy soul,' must have felt deeply grateful to him for his humanity andwisdom.

  'And how,' asked Mr Pecksniff, drawing off his gloves and warming hishands before the fire, as benevolently as if they were somebody else's,not his; 'and how is he now?'

  'He is better, and quite tranquil,' answered Mrs Lupin.

  'He is better, and quite tranquil,' said Mr Pecksniff. 'Very well! Ve-rywell!'

  Here again, though the statement was Mrs Lupin's and not Mr Pecksniff's,Mr Pecksniff made it his own and consoled her with it. It was not muchwhen Mrs Lupin said it, but it was a whole book when Mr Pecksniff saidit. 'I observe,' he seemed to say, 'and through me, morality in generalremarks, that he is better and quite tranquil.'

  'There must be weighty matters on his mind, though,' said the hostess,shaking her head, 'for he talks, sir, in the strangest way you everheard. He is far from easy in his thoughts, and wants some proper advicefrom those whose goodness makes it worth his having.'

  'Then,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'he is the sort of customer for me.' Butthough he said this in the plainest language, he didn't speak a word. Heonly shook his head; disparagingly of himself too.

  'I am afraid, sir,' continued the landlady, first looking round toassure herself that there was nobody within hearing, and then lookingdown upon the floor. 'I am very much afraid, sir, that his conscienceis troubled by his not being related to--or--or even married to--a veryyoung lady--'

  'Mrs Lupin!' said Mr Pecksniff, holding up his hand with something inhis manner as nearly approaching to severity as any expression of his,mild being that he was, could ever do. 'Person! young person?'

  'A very young person,' said Mrs Lupin, curtseying and blushing; '--I begyour pardon, sir, but I have been so hurried to-night, that I don't knowwhat I say--who is with him now.'

  'Who is with him now,' ruminated Mr Pecksniff, warming his back (as hehad warmed his hands) as if it were a widow's back, or an orphan's back,or an enemy's back, or a back that any less excellent man would havesuffered to be cold. 'Oh dear me, dear me!'

  'At the same time I am bound to say, and I do say with all my heart,'observed the hostess, earnestly, 'that her looks and manner almostdisarm suspicion.'

  'Your suspicion, Mrs Lupin,' said Mr Pecksniff gravely, 'is verynatural.'

  Touching which remark, let it be written down to their confusion, thatthe enemies of this worthy man unblushingly maintained that he alwayssaid of what was very bad, that it was very natural; and that heunconsciously betrayed his own nature in doing so.

  'Your suspicion, Mrs Lupin,' he repeated, 'is very natural, and I haveno doubt correct. I will wait upon these travellers.'

  With that he took off his great-coat, and having run his fingers throughhis hair, thrust one hand gently in the bosom of his waist-coat andmeekly signed to her to lead the way.

  'Shall I knock?' asked Mrs Lupin, when they reached the chamber door.

  'No,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'enter if you please.'

  They went in on tiptoe; or rather the hostess took that precaution forMr Pecksniff always walked softly. The old gentleman was still asleep,and his young companion still sat reading by the fire.

  'I am afraid,' said Mr Pecksniff, pausing at the door, and givinghis head a melancholy roll, 'I am afraid that this looks artful. I amafraid, Mrs Lupin, do you know, that this looks very artful!'

  As he finished this whisper, he advanced before the hostess; and at thesame time the young lady, hearing footsteps, rose. Mr Pecksniff glancedat the volume she held, and whispered Mrs Lupin again; if possible, withincreased despondency.

  'Yes, ma'am,' he said, 'it is a good book. I was fearful of thatbeforehand. I am apprehensive that this is a very deep thing indeed!'

  'What gentleman is this?' inquired the object of his virtuous doubts.

  'Hush! don't trouble yourself, ma'am,' said Mr Pecksniff, as thelandlady was about to answer. 'This young'--in spite of himself hehesitated when "person" rose to his lips, and substituted another word:'this young stranger, Mrs Lupin, will excuse me for replying briefly,that I reside in this village; it may be in an influential manner,however, undeserved; and that I have been summoned here by you. I amhere, as I am everywhere, I hope, in sympathy for the sick and sorry.'

  With these impressive words, Mr Pecksniff passed over to the bedside,where, after patting the counterpane once or twice in a very solemnmanner, as if by that means he gained a clear insight into the patient'sdisorder, he took his seat in a large arm-chair, and in an attitude ofsome thoughtfulness and much comfort, waited for his waking. Whateverobjection the young lady urged to Mrs Lupin went no further, for nothingmore was said to Mr Pecksniff, and Mr Pecksniff said nothing more toanybody else.

  Full half an hour elapsed before the old man stirred, but at length heturned himself in bed, and, though not yet awake, gave tokens thathis sleep was drawing to an end. By little and little he removed thebed-clothes from about his head, and turned still more towards the sidewhere Mr Pecksniff sat. In course of time his eyes opened; and helay for a few moments as people newly roused sometimes will, gazingindolently at his visitor, without any distinct consciousness of hispresence.

  There was nothing remarkable in these proceedings, except the influencethey worked on Mr Pecksniff, which could hardly have been surpassed bythe most marvellous of natural phenomena. Gradually his hands becametightly clasped upon the elbows of the chair, his eyes dilated withsurprise, his mouth opened, his hair stood more erect upon his foreheadthan its custom was, until, at length, when the old man rose in bed,and stared at him with scarcely less emotion than he showed himself, thePecksniff doubts were all resolved, and he exclaimed aloud:

  'You ARE Martin Chuzzlewit!'

  His consternation of surprise was so genuine, that the old man, with allthe disposition that he clearly entertained to believe it assumed, wasconvinced of its reality.

  'I am Martin Chuzzlewit,' he said, bitterly: 'and Martin Chuzzlewitwishes you had been hanged, before you had come here to disturb him inhis sleep. Why, I dreamed of this fellow!' he said, lying down again,and turning away his face, 'before I knew that he was near me!'

  'My good cousin--' said Mr Pecksniff.

  'There! His very first words!' cried the old man, shaking his grey headto and fro upon the pillow, and throwing up his hands. 'In his veryfirst words he asserts his relationship! I knew he would; they all doit! Near or dis
tant, blood or water, it's all one. Ugh! What a calendarof deceit, and lying, and false-witnessing, the sound of any word ofkindred opens before me!'

  'Pray do not be hasty, Mr Chuzzlewit,' said Pecksniff, in a tone thatwas at once in the sublimest degree compassionate and dispassionate;for he had by this time recovered from his surprise, and was in fullpossession of his virtuous self. 'You will regret being hasty, I knowyou will.'

  'You know!' said Martin, contemptuously.

  'Yes,' retorted Mr Pecksniff. 'Aye, aye, Mr Chuzzlewit; and don'timagine that I mean to court or flatter you; for nothing is further frommy intention. Neither, sir, need you entertain the least misgiving thatI shall repeat that obnoxious word which has given you so much offencealready. Why should I? What do I expect or want from you? There isnothing in your possession that I know of, Mr Chuzzlewit, which is muchto be coveted for the happiness it brings you.'

  'That's true enough,' muttered the old man.

  'Apart from that consideration,' said Mr Pecksniff, watchful of theeffect he made, 'it must be plain to you (I am sure) by this time, thatif I had wished to insinuate myself into your good opinion, I shouldhave been, of all things, careful not to address you as a relative;knowing your humour, and being quite certain beforehand that I could nothave a worse letter of recommendation.'

  Martin made not any verbal answer; but he as clearly implied though onlyby a motion of his legs beneath the bed-clothes, that there was reasonin this, and that he could not dispute it, as if he had said as much ingood set terms.

  'No,' said Mr Pecksniff, keeping his hand in his waistcoat as thoughhe were ready, on the shortest notice, to produce his heart forMartin Chuzzlewit's inspection, 'I came here to offer my services toa stranger. I make no offer of them to you, because I know you woulddistrust me if I did. But lying on that bed, sir, I regard you as astranger, and I have just that amount of interest in you which I hope Ishould feel in any stranger, circumstanced as you are. Beyond that, I amquite as indifferent to you, Mr Chuzzlewit, as you are to me.'

  Having said which, Mr Pecksniff threw himself back in the easy-chair;so radiant with ingenuous honesty, that Mrs Lupin almost wondered not tosee a stained-glass Glory, such as the Saint wore in the church, shiningabout his head.

  A long pause succeeded. The old man, with increased restlessness,changed his posture several times. Mrs Lupin and the young lady gazedin silence at the counterpane. Mr Pecksniff toyed abstractedly with hiseye-glass, and kept his eyes shut, that he might ruminate the better.

  'Eh?' he said at last, opening them suddenly, and looking towards thebed. 'I beg your pardon. I thought you spoke. Mrs Lupin,' he continued,slowly rising 'I am not aware that I can be of any service to you here.The gentleman is better, and you are as good a nurse as he can have.Eh?'

  This last note of interrogation bore reference to another changeof posture on the old man's part, which brought his face towards MrPecksniff for the first time since he had turned away from him.

  'If you desire to speak to me before I go, sir,' continued thatgentleman, after another pause, 'you may command my leisure; but Imust stipulate, in justice to myself, that you do so as to a stranger,strictly as to a stranger.'

  Now if Mr Pecksniff knew, from anything Martin Chuzzlewit had expressedin gestures, that he wanted to speak to him, he could only have found itout on some such principle as prevails in melodramas, and in virtue ofwhich the elderly farmer with the comic son always knows what the dumbgirl means when she takes refuge in his garden, and relates her personalmemoirs in incomprehensible pantomime. But without stopping to make anyinquiry on this point, Martin Chuzzlewit signed to his young companionto withdraw, which she immediately did, along with the landlady leavinghim and Mr Pecksniff alone together. For some time they looked at eachother in silence; or rather the old man looked at Mr Pecksniff, and MrPecksniff again closing his eyes on all outward objects, took an inwardsurvey of his own breast. That it amply repaid him for his trouble,and afforded a delicious and enchanting prospect, was clear from theexpression of his face.

  'You wish me to speak to you as to a total stranger,' said the old man,'do you?'

  Mr Pecksniff replied, by a shrug of his shoulders and an apparentturning round of his eyes in their sockets before he opened them, thathe was still reduced to the necessity of entertaining that desire.

  'You shall be gratified,' said Martin. 'Sir, I am a rich man. Not sorich as some suppose, perhaps, but yet wealthy. I am not a miser sir,though even that charge is made against me, as I hear, and currentlybelieved. I have no pleasure in hoarding. I have no pleasure in thepossession of money, The devil that we call by that name can give menothing but unhappiness.'

  It would be no description of Mr Pecksniff's gentleness of manner toadopt the common parlance, and say that he looked at this moment as ifbutter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He rather looked as if any quantityof butter might have been made out of him, by churning the milk of humankindness, as it spouted upwards from his heart.

  'For the same reason that I am not a hoarder of money,' said the oldman, 'I am not lavish of it. Some people find their gratification instoring it up; and others theirs in parting with it; but I have nogratification connected with the thing. Pain and bitterness are the onlygoods it ever could procure for me. I hate it. It is a spectre walkingbefore me through the world, and making every social pleasure hideous.'

  A thought arose in Pecksniff's mind, which must have instantly mountedto his face, or Martin Chuzzlewit would not have resumed as quickly andas sternly as he did:

  'You would advise me for my peace of mind, to get rid of this source ofmisery, and transfer it to some one who could bear it better. Even you,perhaps, would rid me of a burden under which I suffer so grievously.But, kind stranger,' said the old man, whose every feature darkened ashe spoke, 'good Christian stranger, that is a main part of my trouble.In other hands, I have known money do good; in other hands I have knownit triumphed in, and boasted of with reason, as the master-key to allthe brazen gates that close upon the paths to worldly honour,fortune, and enjoyment. To what man or woman; to what worthy, honest,incorruptible creature; shall I confide such a talisman, either nowor when I die? Do you know any such person? YOUR virtues are of courseinestimable, but can you tell me of any other living creature who willbear the test of contact with myself?'

  'Of contact with yourself, sir?' echoed Mr Pecksniff.

  'Aye,' returned the old man, 'the test of contact with me--with me. Youhave heard of him whose misery (the gratification of his own foolishwish) was, that he turned every thing he touched into gold. The curseof my existence, and the realisation of my own mad desire is that by thegolden standard which I bear about me, I am doomed to try the metal ofall other men, and find it false and hollow.'

  Mr Pecksniff shook his head, and said, 'You think so.'

  'Oh yes,' cried the old man, 'I think so! and in your telling me "Ithink so," I recognize the true unworldly ring of YOUR metal. I tellyou, man,' he added, with increasing bitterness, 'that I have gone, arich man, among people of all grades and kinds; relatives, friends, andstrangers; among people in whom, when I was poor, I had confidence, andjustly, for they never once deceived me then, or, to me, wronged eachother. But I have never found one nature, no, not one, in which, beingwealthy and alone, I was not forced to detect the latent corruption thatlay hid within it waiting for such as I to bring it forth. Treachery,deceit, and low design; hatred of competitors, real or fancied, for myfavour; meanness, falsehood, baseness, and servility; or,' and herehe looked closely in his cousin's eyes, 'or an assumption of honestindependence, almost worse than all; these are the beauties which mywealth has brought to light. Brother against brother, child againstparent, friends treading on the faces of friends, this is the socialcompany by whom my way has been attended. There are stories told--theymay be true or false--of rich men who, in the garb of poverty, havefound out virtue and rewarded it. They were dolts and idiots for theirpains. They should have made the search in their own characters. Theyshould have shown thems
elves fit objects to be robbed and preyed uponand plotted against and adulated by any knaves, who, but for joy, wouldhave spat upon their coffins when they died their dupes; and then theirsearch would have ended as mine has done, and they would be what I am.'

  Mr Pecksniff, not at all knowing what it might be best to say in themomentary pause which ensued upon these remarks, made an elaboratedemonstration of intending to deliver something very oracular indeed;trusting to the certainty of the old man interrupting him, before heshould utter a word. Nor was he mistaken, for Martin Chuzzlewit havingtaken breath, went on to say:

  'Hear me to an end; judge what profit you are like to gain from anyrepetition of this visit; and leave me. I have so corrupted and changedthe nature of all those who have ever attended on me, by breedingavaricious plots and hopes within them; I have engendered such domesticstrife and discord, by tarrying even with members of my own family; Ihave been such a lighted torch in peaceful homes, kindling up all theinflammable gases and vapours in their moral atmosphere, which, but forme, might have proved harmless to the end, that I have, I may say, fledfrom all who knew me, and taking refuge in secret places have lived, oflate, the life of one who is hunted. The young girl whom you just nowsaw--what! your eye lightens when I talk of her! You hate her already,do you?'

  'Upon my word, sir!' said Mr Pecksniff, laying his hand upon his breast,and dropping his eyelids.

  'I forgot,' cried the old man, looking at him with a keenness which theother seemed to feel, although he did not raise his eyes so as to seeit. 'I ask your pardon. I forgot you were a stranger. For the momentyou reminded me of one Pecksniff, a cousin of mine. As I was saying--theyoung girl whom you just now saw, is an orphan child, whom, with onesteady purpose, I have bred and educated, or, if you prefer the word,adopted. For a year or more she has been my constant companion, and sheis my only one. I have taken, as she knows, a solemn oath never toleave her sixpence when I die, but while I live I make her an annualallowance; not extravagant in its amount and yet not stinted. There isa compact between us that no term of affectionate cajolery shall ever beaddressed by either to the other, but that she shall call me always bymy Christian name; I her, by hers. She is bound to me in life by tiesof interest, and losing by my death, and having no expectationdisappointed, will mourn it, perhaps; though for that I care little.This is the only kind of friend I have or will have. Judge from suchpremises what a profitable hour you have spent in coming here, and leaveme, to return no more.'

  With these words, the old man fell slowly back upon his pillow. MrPecksniff as slowly rose, and, with a prefatory hem, began as follows:

  'Mr Chuzzlewit.'

  'There. Go!' interposed the other. 'Enough of this. I am weary of you.'

  'I am sorry for that, sir,' rejoined Mr Pecksniff, 'because I have aduty to discharge, from which, depend upon it, I shall not shrink. No,sir, I shall not shrink.'

  It is a lamentable fact, that as Mr Pecksniff stood erect beside thebed, in all the dignity of Goodness, and addressed him thus, the old mancast an angry glance towards the candlestick, as if he were possessedby a strong inclination to launch it at his cousin's head. But heconstrained himself, and pointing with his finger to the door, informedhim that his road lay there.

  'Thank you,' said Mr Pecksniff; 'I am aware of that. I am going.But before I go, I crave your leave to speak, and more than that, MrChuzzlewit, I must and will--yes indeed, I repeat it, must and will--beheard. I am not surprised, sir, at anything you have told me tonight.It is natural, very natural, and the greater part of it was known tome before. I will not say,' continued Mr Pecksniff, drawing out hispocket-handkerchief, and winking with both eyes at once, as it were,against his will, 'I will not say that you are mistaken in me. Whileyou are in your present mood I would not say so for the world. I almostwish, indeed, that I had a different nature, that I might repress eventhis slight confession of weakness; which I cannot disguise from you;which I feel is humiliating; but which you will have the goodness toexcuse. We will say, if you please,' added Mr Pecksniff, with greattenderness of manner, 'that it arises from a cold in the head, or isattributable to snuff, or smelling-salts, or onions, or anything but thereal cause.'

  Here he paused for an instant, and concealed his face behind hispocket-handkerchief. Then, smiling faintly, and holding the bedfurniture with one hand, he resumed:

  'But, Mr Chuzzlewit, while I am forgetful of myself, I owe it to myself,and to my character--aye, sir, and I HAVE a character which is very dearto me, and will be the best inheritance of my two daughters--to tellyou, on behalf of another, that your conduct is wrong, unnatural,indefensible, monstrous. And I tell you, sir,' said Mr Pecksniff,towering on tiptoe among the curtains, as if he were literally risingabove all worldly considerations, and were fain to hold on tight, tokeep himself from darting skyward like a rocket, 'I tell you withoutfear or favour, that it will not do for you to be unmindful of yourgrandson, young Martin, who has the strongest natural claim upon you.It will not do, sir,' repeated Mr Pecksniff, shaking his head. 'You maythink it will do, but it won't. You must provide for that young man;you shall provide for him; you WILL provide for him. I believe,' said MrPecksniff, glancing at the pen-and-ink, 'that in secret you have alreadydone so. Bless you for doing so. Bless you for doing right, sir. Blessyou for hating me. And good night!'

  So saying, Mr Pecksniff waved his right hand with much solemnity, andonce more inserting it in his waistcoat, departed. There was emotion inhis manner, but his step was firm. Subject to human weaknesses, he wasupheld by conscience.

  Martin lay for some time, with an expression on his face of silentwonder, not unmixed with rage; at length he muttered in a whisper:

  'What does this mean? Can the false-hearted boy have chosen such atool as yonder fellow who has just gone out? Why not! He has conspiredagainst me, like the rest, and they are but birds of one feather. A newplot; a new plot! Oh self, self, self! At every turn nothing but self!'

  He fell to trifling, as he ceased to speak, with the ashes of the burntpaper in the candlestick. He did so, at first, in pure abstraction, butthey presently became the subject of his thoughts.

  'Another will made and destroyed,' he said, 'nothing determined on,nothing done, and I might have died to-night! I plainly see to what fouluses all this money will be put at last,' he cried, almost writhing inthe bed; 'after filling me with cares and miseries all my life, it willperpetuate discord and bad passions when I am dead. So it always is.What lawsuits grow out of the graves of rich men, every day; sowingperjury, hatred, and lies among near kindred, where there should benothing but love! Heaven help us, we have much to answer for! Oh self,self, self! Every man for himself, and no creature for me!'

  Universal self! Was there nothing of its shadow in these reflections,and in the history of Martin Chuzzlewit, on his own showing?