CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
IN WHICH THE TABLES ARE TURNED, COMPLETELY UPSIDE DOWN
Old Martin's cherished projects, so long hidden in his own breast, sofrequently in danger of abrupt disclosure through the bursting forthof the indignation he had hoarded up during his residence with MrPecksniff, were retarded, but not beyond a few hours, by the occurrencesjust now related. Stunned, as he had been at first by the intelligenceconveyed to him through Tom Pinch and John Westlock, of the supposedmanner of his brother's death; overwhelmed as he was by the subsequentnarratives of Chuffey and Nadgett, and the forging of that chain ofcircumstances ending in the death of Jonas, of which catastrophe he wasimmediately informed; scattered as his purposes and hopes were for themoment, by the crowding in of all these incidents between him and hisend; still their very intensity and the tumult of their assemblagenerved him to the rapid and unyielding execution of his scheme. In everysingle circumstance, whether it were cruel, cowardly, or false, hesaw the flowering of the same pregnant seed. Self; grasping, eager,narrow-ranging, overreaching self; with its long train of suspicions,lusts, deceits, and all their growing consequences; was the root of thevile tree. Mr Pecksniff had so presented his character before the oldman's eyes, that he--the good, the tolerant, enduring Pecksniff--hadbecome the incarnation of all selfishness and treachery; and the moreodious the shapes in which those vices ranged themselves before him now,the sterner consolation he had in his design of setting Mr Pecksniffright and Mr Pecksniff's victims too.
To this work he brought, not only the energy and determination naturalto his character (which, as the reader may have observed in thebeginning of his or her acquaintance with this gentleman, was remarkablefor the strong development of those qualities), but all the forced andunnaturally nurtured energy consequent upon their long suppression. Andthese two tides of resolution setting into one and sweeping on, becameso strong and vigorous, that, to prevent themselves from being carriedaway before it, Heaven knows where, was as much as John Westlock andMark Tapley together (though they were tolerably energetic too) couldmanage to effect.
He had sent for John Westlock immediately on his arrival; and John,under the conduct of Tom Pinch, had waited on him. Having a livelyrecollection of Mr Tapley, he had caused that gentleman's attendance tobe secured, through John's means, without delay; and thus, as we haveseen, they had all repaired together to the City. But his grandson hehad refused to see until to-morrow, when Mr Tapley was instructed tosummon him to the Temple at ten o'clock in the forenoon. Tom he wouldnot allow to be employed in anything, lest he should be wrongfullysuspected; but he was a party to all their proceedings, and was withthem until late at night--until after they knew of the death of Jonas;when he went home to tell all these wonders to little Ruth, and toprepare her for accompanying him to the Temple in the morning, agreeablyto Mr Chuzzlewit's particular injunction.
It was characteristic of old Martin, and his looking on to somethingwhich he had distinctly before him, that he communicated to them nothingof his intentions, beyond such hints of reprisal on Mr Pecksniff as theygathered from the game he had played in that gentleman's house, and thebrightening of his eyes whenever his name was mentioned. Even to JohnWestlock, in whom he was evidently disposed to place great confidence(which may indeed be said of every one of them), he gave no explanationwhatever. He merely requested him to return in the morning; and withthis for their utmost satisfaction, they left him, when the night wasfar advanced, alone.
The events of such a day might have worn out the body and spirit ofa much younger man than he, but he sat in deep and painful meditationuntil the morning was bright. Nor did he even then seek any prolongedrepose, but merely slumbered in his chair, until seven o'clock, when MrTapley had appointed to come to him by his desire; and came--as freshand clean and cheerful as the morning itself.
'You are punctual,' said Mr Chuzzlewit, opening the door to him in replyto his light knock, which had roused him instantly.
'My wishes, sir,' replied Mr Tapley, whose mind would appear from thecontext to have been running on the matrimonial service, 'is to love,honour, and obey. The clock's a-striking now, sir.'
'Come in!'
'Thank'ee, sir,' rejoined Mr Tapley, 'what could I do for you first,sir?'
'You gave my message to Martin?' said the old man, bending his eyes uponhim.
'I did, sir,' returned Mark; 'and you never see a gentleman moresurprised in all your born days than he was.'
'What more did you tell him?' Mr Chuzzlewit inquired.
'Why, sir,' said Mr Tapley, smiling, 'I should have liked to tell him adeal more, but not being able, sir, I didn't tell it him.'
'You told him all you knew?'
'But it was precious little, sir,' retorted Mr Tapley. 'There was verylittle respectin' you that I was able to tell him, sir. I only mentionedmy opinion that Mr Pecksniff would find himself deceived, sir, andthat you would find yourself deceived, and that he would find himselfdeceived, sir.'
'In what?' asked Mr Chuzzlewit.
'Meaning him, sir?'
'Meaning both him and me.'
'Well, sir,' said Mr Tapley. 'In your old opinions of each other. Asto him, sir, and his opinions, I know he's a altered man. I know it.I know'd it long afore he spoke to you t'other day, and I must say it.Nobody don't know half as much of him as I do. Nobody can't. Therewas always a deal of good in him, but a little of it got crusted over,somehow. I can't say who rolled the paste of that 'ere crust myself,but--'
'Go on,' said Martin. 'Why do you stop?'
'But it--well! I beg your pardon, but I think it may have been you, sir.Unintentional I think it may have been you. I don't believe that neitherof you gave the other quite a fair chance. There! Now I've got rid onit,' said Mr Tapley in a fit of desperation: 'I can't go a-carryin' itabout in my own mind, bustin' myself with it; yesterday was quite longenough. It's out now. I can't help it. I'm sorry for it. Don't wisit onhim, sir, that's all.'
It was clear that Mark expected to be ordered out immediately, and wasquite prepared to go.
'So you think,' said Martin, 'that his old faults are, in some degree,of my creation, do you?'
'Well, sir,' retorted Mr Tapley, 'I'm werry sorry, but I can't unsay it.It's hardly fair of you, sir, to make a ignorant man conwict himself inthis way, but I DO think so. I am as respectful disposed to you, sir, asa man can be; but I DO think so.'
The light of a faint smile seemed to break through the dull steadinessof Martin's face, as he looked attentively at him, without replying.
'Yet you are an ignorant man, you say,' he observed after a long pause.
'Werry much so,' Mr Tapley replied.
'And I a learned, well-instructed man, you think?'
'Likewise wery much so,' Mr Tapley answered.
The old man, with his chin resting on his hand, paced the room twice orthrice before he added:
'You have left him this morning?'
'Come straight from him now, sir.'
'For what does he suppose?'
'He don't know what to suppose, sir, no more than myself. I told himjest wot passed yesterday, sir, and that you had said to me, "Can you behere by seven in the morning?" and that you had said to him, through me,"Can you be here by ten in the morning?" and that I had said "Yes" toboth. That's all, sir.'
His frankness was so genuine that it plainly WAS all.
'Perhaps,' said Martin, 'he may think you are going to desert him, andto serve me?'
'I have served him in that sort of way, sir,' replied Mark, without theloss of any atom of his self-possession; 'and we have been that sort ofcompanions in misfortune, that my opinion is, he don't believe a word onit. No more than you do, sir.'
'Will you help me to dress, and get me some breakfast from the hotel?'asked Martin.
'With pleasure, sir,' said Mark.
'And by-and-bye,' said Martin, 'remaining in the room, as I wish you todo, will you attend to the door yonder--give admission to visitors, Imean, when they knock?'
&
nbsp; 'Certainly, sir,' said Mr Tapley.
'You will not find it necessary to express surprise at theirappearance,' Martin suggested.
'Oh dear no, sir!' said Mr Tapley, 'not at all.'
Although he pledged himself to this with perfect confidence, he was in astate of unbounded astonishment even now. Martin appeared to observe it,and to have some sense of the ludicrous bearing of Mr Tapley under theseperplexing circumstances; for, in spite of the composure of his voiceand the gravity of his face, the same indistinct light flickered on thelatter several times. Mark bestirred himself, however, to execute theoffices with which he was entrusted; and soon lost all tendency to anyoutward expression of his surprise, in the occupation of being brisk andbusy.
But when he had put Mr Chuzzlewit's clothes in good order for dressing,and when that gentleman was dressed and sitting at his breakfast,Mr Tapley's feelings of wonder began to return upon him with greatviolence; and, standing beside the old man with a napkin under hisarm (it was as natural and easy to joke to Mark to be a butler in theTemple, as it had been to volunteer as cook on board the Screw), hefound it difficult to resist the temptation of casting sidelong glancesat him very often. Nay, he found it impossible; and accordingly yieldedto this impulse so often, that Martin caught him in the fact some fiftytimes. The extraordinary things Mr Tapley did with his own face whenany of these detections occurred; the sudden occasions he had to rubhis eyes or his nose or his chin; the look of wisdom with which heimmediately plunged into the deepest thought, or became intenselyinterested in the habits and customs of the flies upon the ceiling, orthe sparrows out of doors; or the overwhelming politeness with whichhe endeavoured to hide his confusion by handing the muffin; may notunreasonably be assumed to have exercised the utmost power of featurethat even Martin Chuzzlewit the elder possessed.
But he sat perfectly quiet and took his breakfast at his leisure, ormade a show of doing so, for he scarcely ate or drank, and frequentlylapsed into long intervals of musing. When he had finished, Mark satdown to his breakfast at the same table; and Mr Chuzzlewit, quite silentstill, walked up and down the room.
Mark cleared away in due course, and set a chair out for him, in which,as the time drew on towards ten o'clock, he took his seat, leaning hishands upon his stick, and clenching them upon the handle, and restinghis chin on them again. All his impatience and abstraction of manner hadvanished now; and as he sat there, looking, with his keen eyes, steadilytowards the door, Mark could not help thinking what a firm, square,powerful face it was; or exulting in the thought that Mr Pecksniff,after playing a pretty long game of bowls with its owner, seemed to beat last in a very fair way of coming in for a rubber or two.
Mark's uncertainty in respect of what was going to be done or said, andby whom to whom, would have excited him in itself. But knowing fora certainty besides, that young Martin was coming, and in a very fewminutes must arrive, he found it by no means easy to remain quiet andsilent. But, excepting that he occasionally coughed in a hollow andunnatural manner to relieve himself, he behaved with great decorumthrough the longest ten minutes he had ever known.
A knock at the door. Mr Westlock. Mr Tapley, in admitting him, raisedhis eyebrows to the highest possible pitch, implying thereby that heconsidered himself in an unsatisfactory position. Mr Chuzzlewit receivedhim very courteously.
Mark waited at the door for Tom Pinch and his sister, who were coming upthe stairs. The old man went to meet them; took their hands in his;and kissed her on the cheek. As this looked promising, Mr Tapley smiledbenignantly.
Mr Chuzzlewit had resumed his chair before young Martin, who was closebehind them, entered. The old man, scarcely looking at him, pointed toa distant seat. This was less encouraging; and Mr Tapley's spirits fellagain.
He was quickly summoned to the door by another knock. He did not start,or cry, or tumble down, at sight of Miss Graham and Mrs Lupin, but hedrew a very long breath, and came back perfectly resigned, looking onthem and on the rest with an expression which seemed to say that nothingcould surprise him any more; and that he was rather glad to have donewith that sensation for ever.
The old man received Mary no less tenderly than he had received TomPinch's sister. A look of friendly recognition passed between himselfand Mrs Lupin, which implied the existence of a perfect understandingbetween them. It engendered no astonishment in Mr Tapley; for, as heafterwards observed, he had retired from the business, and sold off thestock.
Not the least curious feature in this assemblage was, that everybodypresent was so much surprised and embarrassed by the sight of everybodyelse, that nobody ventured to speak. Mr Chuzzlewit alone broke silence.
'Set the door open, Mark!' he said; 'and come here.'
Mark obeyed.
The last appointed footstep sounded now upon the stairs. They all knewit. It was Mr Pecksniff's; and Mr Pecksniff was in a hurry too, for hecame bounding up with such uncommon expedition that he stumbled twice orthrice.
'Where is my venerable friend?' he cried upon the upper landing; andthen with open arms came darting in.
Old Martin merely looked at him; but Mr Pecksniff started back as if hehad received the charge from an electric battery.
'My venerable friend is well?' cried Mr Pecksniff.
'Quite well.'
It seemed to reassure the anxious inquirer. He clasped his hands and,looking upwards with a pious joy, silently expressed his gratitude.He then looked round on the assembled group, and shook his headreproachfully. For such a man severely, quite severely.
'Oh, vermin!' said Mr Pecksniff. 'Oh, bloodsuckers! Is it not enoughthat you have embittered the existence of an individual whollyunparalleled in the biographical records of amiable persons, but mustyou now, even now, when he has made his election, and reposed his trustin a Numble, but at least sincere and disinterested relative; mustyou now, vermin and swarmers (I regret to make use of these strongexpressions, my dear sir, but there are times when honest indignationwill not be controlled), must you now, vermin and swarmers (for I WILLrepeat it), take advantage of his unprotected state, assemble roundhim from all quarters, as wolves and vultures, and other animals ofthe feathered tribe assemble round--I will not say round carrion or acarcass, for Mr Chuzzlewit is quite the contrary--but round their prey;their prey; to rifle and despoil; gorging their voracious maws, andstaining their offensive beaks, with every description of carnivorousenjoyment!'
As he stopped to fetch his breath, he waved them off, in a solemnmanner, with his hand.
'Horde of unnatural plunderers and robbers!' he continued; 'leave him!leave him, I say! Begone! Abscond! You had better be off! Wander overthe face of the earth, young sirs, like vagabonds as you are, and do notpresume to remain in a spot which is hallowed by the grey hairs of thepatriarchal gentleman to whose tottering limbs I have the honour to actas an unworthy, but I hope an unassuming, prop and staff. And you, mytender sir,' said Mr Pecksniff, addressing himself in a tone of gentleremonstrance to the old man, 'how could you ever leave me, though evenfor this short period! You have absented yourself, I do not doubt, uponsome act of kindness to me; bless you for it; but you must not do it;you must not be so venturesome. I should really be angry with you if Icould, my friend!'
He advanced with outstretched arms to take the old man's hand. But hehad not seen how the hand clasped and clutched the stick within itsgrasp. As he came smiling on, and got within his reach, old Martin, withhis burning indignation crowded into one vehement burst, and flashingout of every line and wrinkle in his face, rose up, and struck him downupon the ground.
With such a well-directed nervous blow, that down he went, as heavilyand true as if the charge of a Life-Guardsman had tumbled him out of asaddle. And whether he was stunned by the shock, or only confused by thewonder and novelty of this warm reception, he did not offer to get upagain; but lay there, looking about him with a disconcerted meeknessin his face so enormously ridiculous, that neither Mark Tapley nor JohnWestlock could repress a smile, though both were actively interposing toprevent a rep
etition of the blow; which the old man's gleaming eyes andvigorous attitude seemed to render one of the most probable events inthe world.
'Drag him away! Take him out of my reach!' said Martin; 'or I can't helpit. The strong restraint I have put upon my hands has been enough topalsy them. I am not master of myself while he is within their range.Drag him away!'
Seeing that he still did not rise, Mr Tapley, without any compromiseabout it, actually did drag him away, and stick him up on the floor,with his back against the opposite wall.
'Hear me, rascal!' said Mr Chuzzlewit. 'I have summoned you here towitness your own work. I have summoned you here to witness it, becauseI know it will be gall and wormwood to you! I have summoned you here towitness it, because I know the sight of everybody here must be a daggerin your mean, false heart! What! do you know me as I am, at last!'
Mr Pecksniff had cause to stare at him, for the triumph in his face andspeech and figure was a sight to stare at.
'Look there!' said the old man, pointing at him, and appealing to therest. 'Look there! And then--come hither, my dear Martin--look here!here! here!' At every repetition of the word he pressed his grandsoncloser to his breast.
'The passion I felt, Martin, when I dared not do this,' he said, 'wasin the blow I struck just now. Why did we ever part! How could we everpart! How could you ever fly from me to him!'
Martin was about to answer, but he stopped him, and went on.
'The fault was mine no less than yours. Mark has told me so today, andI have known it long; though not so long as I might have done. Mary, mylove, come here.'
As she trembled and was very pale, he sat her in his own chair, andstood beside it with her hand in his; and Martin standing by him.
'The curse of our house,' said the old man, looking kindly down uponher, 'has been the love of self; has ever been the love of self. Howoften have I said so, when I never knew that I had wrought it uponothers.'
He drew one hand through Martin's arm, and standing so, between them,proceeded thus:
'You all know how I bred this orphan up, to tend me. None of you canknow by what degrees I have come to regard her as a daughter; forshe has won upon me, by her self-forgetfulness, her tenderness, herpatience, all the goodness of her nature, when Heaven is her witnessthat I took but little pains to draw it forth. It blossomed withoutcultivation, and it ripened without heat. I cannot find it in my heartto say that I am sorry for it now, or yonder fellow might be holding uphis head.'
Mr Pecksniff put his hand into his waistcoat, and slightly shook thatpart of him to which allusion had been made; as if to signify that itwas still uppermost.
'There is a kind of selfishness,' said Martin--'I have learned it in myown experience of my own breast--which is constantly upon the watch forselfishness in others; and holding others at a distance, by suspicionsand distrusts, wonders why they don't approach, and don't confide, andcalls that selfishness in them. Thus I once doubted those about me--notwithout reason in the beginning--and thus I once doubted you, Martin.'
'Not without reason,' Martin answered, 'either.'
'Listen, hypocrite! Listen, smooth-tongued, servile, crawling knave!'said Martin. 'Listen, you shallow dog. What! When I was seeking him, youhad already spread your nets; you were already fishing for him, were ye?When I lay ill in this good woman's house and your meek spirit pleadedfor my grandson, you had already caught him, had ye? Counting on therestoration of the love you knew I bore him, you designed him for oneof your two daughters did ye? Or failing that, you traded in him as aspeculation which at any rate should blind me with the lustre of yourcharity, and found a claim upon me! Why, even then I knew you, and Itold you so. Did I tell you that I knew you, even then?'
'I am not angry, sir,' said Mr Pecksniff, softly. 'I can bear a greatdeal from you. I will never contradict you, Mr Chuzzlewit.'
'Observe!' said Martin, looking round. 'I put myself in that man'shands on terms as mean and base, and as degrading to himself, as I couldrender them in words. I stated them at length to him, before his ownchildren, syllable by syllable, as coarsely as I could, and with as muchoffence, and with as plain an exposition of my contempt, as words--notlooks and manner merely--could convey. If I had only called the angryblood into his face, I would have wavered in my purpose. If I had onlystung him into being a man for a minute I would have abandoned it. If hehad offered me one word of remonstrance, in favour of the grandson whomhe supposed I had disinherited; if he had pleaded with me, though neverso faintly, against my appeal to him to abandon him to misery andcast him from his house; I think I could have borne with him for everafterwards. But not a word, not a word. Pandering to the worst of humanpassions was the office of his nature; and faithfully he did his work!'
'I am not angry,' observed Mr Pecksniff. 'I am hurt, Mr Chuzzlewit;wounded in my feelings; but I am not angry, my good sir.'
Mr Chuzzlewit resumed.
'Once resolved to try him, I was resolute to pursue the trial to theend; but while I was bent on fathoming the depth of his duplicity, Imade a sacred compact with myself that I would give him credit on theother side for any latent spark of goodness, honour, forbearance--anyvirtue--that might glimmer in him. For first to last there has been nosuch thing. Not once. He cannot say I have not given him opportunity.He cannot say I have ever led him on. He cannot say I have not lefthim freely to himself in all things; or that I have not been a passiveinstrument in his hands, which he might have used for good as easily asevil. Or if he can, he Lies! And that's his nature, too.'
'Mr Chuzzlewit,' interrupted Pecksniff, shedding tears. 'I am not angry,sir. I cannot be angry with you. But did you never, my dear sir,express a desire that the unnatural young man who by his wicked arts hasestranged your good opinion from me, for the time being; only for thetime being; that your grandson, Mr Chuzzlewit, should be dismissed myhouse? Recollect yourself, my Christian friend.'
'I have said so, have I not?' retorted the old man, sternly. 'I couldnot tell how far your specious hypocrisy had deceived him, knave; andknew no better way of opening his eyes than by presenting you before himin your own servile character. Yes. I did express that desire. And youleaped to meet it; and you met it; and turning in an instant on thehand you had licked and beslavered, as only such hounds can, youstrengthened, and confirmed, and justified me in my scheme.'
Mr Pecksniff made a bow; a submissive, not to say a grovelling and anabject bow. If he had been complimented on his practice of the loftiestvirtues, he never could have bowed as he bowed then.
'The wretched man who has been murdered,' Mr Chuzzlewit went on to say;'then passing by the name of--'
'Tigg,' suggested Mark.
'Of Tigg; brought begging messages to me on behalf of a friend of his,and an unworthy relative of mine; and finding him a man well enoughsuited to my purpose, I employed him to glean some news of you, Martin,for me. It was from him I learned that you had taken up your abode withyonder fellow. It was he, who meeting you here in town, one evening--youremember where?'
'At the pawnbroker's shop,' said Martin.
'Yes; watched you to your lodging, and enabled me to send you abank-note.'
'I little thought,' said Martin, greatly moved, 'that it had come fromyou; I little thought that you were interested in my fate. If I had--'
'If you had,' returned the old man, sorrowfully, 'you would have shownless knowledge of me as I seemed to be, and as I really was. I hoped tobring you back, Martin, penitent and humbled. I hoped to distress youinto coming back to me. Much as I loved you, I had that to acknowledgewhich I could not reconcile it to myself to avow, then, unless youmade submission to me first. Thus it was I lost you. If I have had,indirectly, any act or part in the fate of that unhappy man, by puttingmeans, however small, within his reach, Heaven forgive me! I might haveknown, perhaps, that he would misuse money; that it was ill-bestowedupon him; and that sown by his hands it could engender mischief only.But I never thought of him at that time as having the disposition orability to be a serious impostor, or other
wise than as a thoughtless,idle-humoured, dissipated spendthrift, sinning more against himself thanothers, and frequenting low haunts and indulging vicious tastes, to hisown ruin only.'
'Beggin' your pardon, sir,' said Mr Tapley, who had Mrs Lupin on hisarm by this time, quite agreeably; 'if I may make so bold as say so, myopinion is, as you was quite correct, and that he turned out perfectlynat'ral for all that. There's surprisin' number of men sir, who as longas they've only got their own shoes and stockings to depend upon, willwalk down hill, along the gutters quiet enough and by themselves, andnot do much harm. But set any on 'em up with a coach and horses, sir;and it's wonderful what a knowledge of drivin' he'll show, and how he'llfill his wehicle with passengers, and start off in the middle of theroad, neck or nothing, to the Devil! Bless your heart, sir, there's everso many Tiggs a-passin' this here Temple-gate any hour in the day, thatonly want a chance to turn out full-blown Montagues every one!'
'Your ignorance, as you call it, Mark,' said Mr Chuzzlewit, 'is wiserthan some men's enlightenment, and mine among them. You are right; notfor the first time to-day. Now hear me out, my dears. And hear me, you,who, if what I have been told be accurately stated, are Bankrupt inpocket no less than in good name! And when you have heard me, leave thisplace, and poison my sight no more!'
Mr Pecksniff laid his hand upon his breast, and bowed again.
'The penance I have done in this house,' said Mr Chuzzlewit, 'has earnedthis reflection with it constantly, above all others. That if it hadpleased Heaven to visit such infirmity on my old age as really hadreduced me to the state in which I feigned to be, I should have broughtits misery upon myself. Oh, you whose wealth, like mine, has been asource of continual unhappiness, leading you to distrust the nearest anddearest, and to dig yourself a living grave of suspicion and reserve;take heed that, having cast off all whom you might have bound to you,and tenderly, you do not become in your decay the instrument of such aman as this, and waken in another world to the knowledge of such wrongas would embitter Heaven itself, if wrong or you could ever reach it!'
And then he told them how he had sometimes thought, in the beginning,that love might grow up between Mary and Martin; and how he had pleasedhis fancy with the picture of observing it when it was new, and takingthem to task, apart, in counterfeited doubt, and then confessing to themthat it had been an object dear to his heart; and by his sympathy withthem, and generous provision for their young fortunes, establishing aclaim on their affection and regard which nothing should wither, andwhich should surround his old age with means of happiness. How in thefirst dawn of this design, and when the pleasure of such a scheme forthe happiness of others was new and indistinct within him, Martin hadcome to tell him that he had already chosen for himself; knowing thathe, the old man, had some faint project on that head, but ignorant whomit concerned. How it was little comfort to him to know that Martinhad chosen Her, because the grace of his design was lost, and becausefinding that she had returned his love, he tortured himself withthe reflection that they, so young, to whom he had been so kind abenefactor, were already like the world, and bent on their own selfish,stealthy ends. How in the bitterness of this impression, and of his pastexperience, he had reproached Martin so harshly (forgetting that he hadnever invited his confidence on such a point, and confounding whathe had meant to do with what he had done), that high words sprung upbetween them, and they separated in wrath. How he loved him still, andhoped he would return. How on the night of his illness at the Dragon,he had secretly written tenderly of him, and made him his heir, andsanctioned his marriage with Mary; and how, after his interview with MrPecksniff, he had distrusted him again, and burnt the paper to ashes,and had lain down in his bed distracted by suspicions, doubts, andregrets.
And then he told them how, resolved to probe this Pecksniff, and toprove the constancy and truth of Mary (to himself no less thanMartin), he had conceived and entered on his plan; and how, beneath hergentleness and patience, he had softened more and more; still more andmore beneath the goodness and simplicity, the honour and the manly faithof Tom. And when he spoke of Tom, he said God bless him; and the tearswere in his eyes; for he said that Tom, mistrusted and disliked by himat first, had come like summer rain upon his heart; and had disposed itto believe in better things. And Martin took him by the hand, and Marytoo, and John, his old friend, stoutly too; and Mark, and Mrs Lupin,and his sister, little Ruth. And peace of mind, deep, tranquil peace ofmind, was in Tom's heart.
The old man then related how nobly Mr Pecksniff had performed the dutyin which he stood indebted to society, in the matter of Tom'sdismissal; and how, having often heard disparagement of Mr Westlock fromPecksniffian lips, and knowing him to be a friend to Tom, he had used,through his confidential agent and solicitor, that little artifice whichhad kept him in readiness to receive his unknown friend in London. Andhe called on Mr Pecksniff (by the name of Scoundrel) to remember thatthere again he had not trapped him to do evil, but that he had done itof his own free will and agency; nay, that he had cautioned him againstit. And once again he called on Mr Pecksniff (by the name of Hang-dog)to remember that when Martin coming home at last, an altered man, hadsued for the forgiveness which awaited him, he, Pecksniff, had rejectedhim in language of his own, and had remorsely stepped in between him andthe least touch of natural tenderness. 'For which,' said the old man,'if the bending of my finger would remove a halter from your neck, Iwouldn't bend it!'
'Martin,' he added, 'your rival has not been a dangerous one, but MrsLupin here has played duenna for some weeks; not so much to watch yourlove as to watch her lover. For that Ghoul'--his fertility in findingnames for Mr Pecksniff was astonishing--'would have crawled into herdaily walks otherwise, and polluted the fresh air. What's this? Her handis trembling strangely. See if you can hold it.'
Hold it! If he clasped it half as tightly as he did her waist. Well,well!
But it was good in him that even then, in his high fortune andhappiness, with her lips nearly printed on his own, and her proud youngbeauty in his close embrace, he had a hand still left to stretch out toTom Pinch.
'Oh, Tom! Dear Tom! I saw you, accidentally, coming here. Forgive me!'
'Forgive!' cried Tom. 'I'll never forgive you as long as I live, Martin,if you say another syllable about it. Joy to you both! Joy, my dearfellow, fifty thousand times.'
Joy! There is not a blessing on earth that Tom did not wish them. Thereis not a blessing on earth that Tom would not have bestowed upon them,if he could.
'I beg your pardon, sir,' said Mr Tapley, stepping forward, 'but yow wasmentionin', just now, a lady of the name of Lupin, sir.'
'I was,' returned old Martin
'Yes, sir. It's a pretty name, sir?'
'A very good name,' said Martin.
'It seems a'most a pity to change such a name into Tapley. Don't it,sir?' said Mark.
'That depends upon the lady. What is HER opinion?'
'Why, sir,' said Mr Tapley, retiring, with a bow, towards the buxomhostess, 'her opinion is as the name ain't a change for the better, butthe indiwidual may be, and, therefore, if nobody ain't acquaintedwith no jest cause or impediment, et cetrer, the Blue Dragon will becon-werted into the Jolly Tapley. A sign of my own inwention, sir. Werynew, conwivial, and expressive!'
The whole of these proceedings were so agreeable to Mr Pecksniff thathe stood with his eyes fixed upon the floor and his hands clasping oneanother alternately, as if a host of penal sentences were being passedupon him. Not only did his figure appear to have shrunk, but hisdiscomfiture seemed to have extended itself even to his dress. Hisclothes seemed to have grown shabbier, his linen to have turned yellow,his hair to have become lank and frowsy; his very boots looked villanousand dim, as if their gloss had departed with his own.
Feeling, rather than seeing, that the old man now pointed to the door,he raised his eyes, picked up his hat, and thus addressed him:
'Mr Chuzzlewit, sir! you have partaken of my hospitality.'
'And paid for it,' he observed.
'Thank you. That savours,' said Mr Pecksniff, taking out hispocket-handkerchief, 'of your old familiar frankness. You have paid forit. I was about to make the remark. You have deceived me, sir. Thank youagain. I am glad of it. To see you in the possession of your health andfaculties on any terms, is, in itself, a sufficient recompense. To havebeen deceived implies a trusting nature. Mine is a trusting nature. Iam thankful for it. I would rather have a trusting nature, do you know,sir, than a doubting one!'
Here Mr Pecksniff, with a sad smile, bowed, and wiped his eyes.
'There is hardly any person present, Mr Chuzzlewit,' said Pecksniff,'by whom I have not been deceived. I have forgiven those persons on thespot. That was my duty; and, of course, I have done it. Whether it wasworthy of you to partake of my hospitality, and to act the part youdid act in my house, that, sir, is a question which I leave to your ownconscience. And your conscience does not acquit you. No, sir, no!'
Pronouncing these last words in a loud and solemn voice, Mr Pecksniffwas not so absolutely lost in his own fervour as to be unmindful of theexpediency of getting a little nearer to the door.
'I have been struck this day,' said Mr Pecksniff, 'with a walkingstick (which I have every reason to believe has knobs upon it), on thatdelicate and exquisite portion of the human anatomy--the brain. Severalblows have been inflicted, sir, without a walking-stick, upon thattenderer portion of my frame--my heart. You have mentioned, sir,my being bankrupt in my purse. Yes, sir, I am. By an unfortunatespeculation, combined with treachery, I find myself reduced to poverty;at a time, sir, when the child of my bosom is widowed, and afflictionand disgrace are in my family.'
Here Mr Pecksniff wiped his eyes again, and gave himself two or threelittle knocks upon the breast, as if he were answering two or threeother little knocks from within, given by the tinkling hammer of hisconscience, to express 'Cheer up, my boy!'
'I know the human mind, although I trust it. That is my weakness. Do Inot know, sir'--here he became exceedingly plaintive and was observed toglance towards Tom Pinch--'that my misfortunes bring this treatment onme? Do I not know, sir, that but for them I never should have heard whatI have heard to-day? Do I not know that in the silence and the solitudeof night, a little voice will whisper in your ear, Mr Chuzzlewit, "Thiswas not well. This was not well, sir!" Think of this, sir (if you willhave the goodness), remote from the impulses of passion, and apart fromthe specialities, if I may use that strong remark, of prejudice. And ifyou ever contemplate the silent tomb, sir, which you will excuse me forentertaining some doubt of your doing, after the conduct into which youhave allowed yourself to be betrayed this day; if you ever contemplatethe silent tomb sir, think of me. If you find yourself approaching tothe silent tomb, sir, think of me. If you should wish to have anythinginscribed upon your silent tomb, sir, let it be, that I--ah, myremorseful sir! that I--the humble individual who has now the honour ofreproaching you, forgave you. That I forgave you when my injuries werefresh, and when my bosom was newly wrung. It may be bitterness to you tohear it now, sir, but you will live to seek a consolation in it. May youfind a consolation in it when you want it, sir! Good morning!'
With this sublime address, Mr Pecksniff departed. But the effect ofhis departure was much impaired by his being immediately afterwards runagainst, and nearly knocked down, by a monstrously excited little man invelveteen shorts and a very tall hat; who came bursting up the stairs,and straight into the chambers of Mr Chuzzlewit, as if he were deranged.
'Is there anybody here that knows him?' cried the little man. 'Is thereanybody here that knows him? Oh, my stars, is there anybody here thatknows him?'
They looked at each other for an explanation; but nobody knew anythingmore than that here was an excited little man with a very tall hat on,running in and out of the room as hard as he could go; making his singlepair of bright blue stockings appear at least a dozen; and constantlyrepeating in a shrill voice, 'IS there anybody here that knows him?'
'If your brains is not turned topjy turjey, Mr Sweedlepipes!' exclaimedanother voice, 'hold that there nige of yourn, I beg you, sir.'
At the same time Mrs Gamp was seen in the doorway; out of breath fromcoming up so many stairs, and panting fearfully; but dropping curtseysto the last.
'Excuge the weakness of the man,' said Mrs Gamp, eyeing Mr Sweedlepipewith great indignation; 'and well I might expect it, as I should haveknow'd, and wishin' he was drownded in the Thames afore I had broughthim here, which not a blessed hour ago he nearly shaved the noge offfrom the father of as lovely a family as ever, Mr Chuzzlewit, was bornthree sets of twins, and would have done it, only he see it a-goin' inthe glass, and dodged the rager. And never, Mr Sweedlepipes, I do assureyou, sir, did I so well know what a misfortun it was to be acquaintedwith you, as now I do, which so I say, sir, and I don't deceive you!'
'I ask your pardon, ladies and gentlemen all,' cried the little barber,taking off his hat, 'and yours too, Mrs Gamp. But--but,' he added thishalf laughing and half crying, 'IS there anybody here that knows him?'
As the barber said these words, a something in top-boots, with its headbandaged up, staggered into the room, and began going round and roundand round, apparently under the impression that it was walking straightforward.
'Look at him!' cried the excited little barber. 'Here he is! That'llsoon wear off, and then he'll be all right again. He's no more dead thanI am. He's all alive and hearty. Aint you, Bailey?'
'R--r--reether so, Poll!' replied that gentleman.
'Look here!' cried the little barber, laughing and crying in the samebreath. 'When I steady him he comes all right. There! He's all rightnow. Nothing's the matter with him now, except that he's a little shookand rather giddy; is there, Bailey?'
'R--r--reether shook, Poll--reether so!' said Mr Bailey. 'What, mylovely Sairey! There you air!'
'What a boy he is!' cried the tender-hearted Poll, actually sobbingover him. 'I never see sech a boy! It's all his fun. He's full of it.He shall go into the business along with me. I am determined he shall.We'll make it Sweedlepipe and Bailey. He shall have the sporting branch(what a one he'll be for the matches!) and me the shavin'. I'll makeover the birds to him as soon as ever he's well enough. He shall havethe little bullfinch in the shop, and all. He's sech a boy! I ask yourpardon, ladies and gentlemen, but I thought there might be some one herethat know'd him!'
Mrs Gamp had observed, not without jealousy and scorn, that a favourableimpression appeared to exist in behalf of Mr Sweedlepipe and hisyoung friend; and that she had fallen rather into the background inconsequence. She now struggled to the front, therefore, and stated herbusiness.
'Which, Mr Chuzzlewit,' she said, 'is well beknown to Mrs Harris as hasone sweet infant (though she DO not wish it known) in her own family bythe mother's side, kep in spirits in a bottle; and that sweet babe shesee at Greenwich Fair, a-travelling in company with a pink-eyed lady,Prooshan dwarf, and livin' skelinton, which judge her feelings when thebarrel organ played, and she was showed her own dear sister's child, thesame not bein' expected from the outside picter, where it was paintedquite contrairy in a livin' state, a many sizes larger, and performingbeautiful upon the Arp, which never did that dear child know or do;since breathe it never did, to speak on in this wale! And Mrs Harris, MrChuzzlewit, has knowed me many year, and can give you information thatthe lady which is widdered can't do better and may do worse, than let mewait upon her, which I hope to do. Permittin' the sweet faces as I seeafore me.'
'Oh!' said Mr Chuzzlewit. 'Is that your business? Was this good personpaid for the trouble we gave her?'
'I paid her, sir,' returned Mark Tapley; 'liberal.'
'The young man's words is true,' said Mrs Gamp, 'and thank you kindly.'
'Then here we will close our acquaintance, Mrs Gamp,' retorted MrChuzzlewit. 'And Mr Sweedlepipe--is that your name?'
'That is my name, sir,' replied Poll, accepting with a profusion ofgratitude, some chinking pieces which the old man slipped into his hand.
'Mr Sweedlepipe, take as
much care of your lady-lodger as you can, andgive her a word or two of good advice now and then. Such,' said oldMartin, looking gravely at the astonished Mrs Gamp, 'as hinting at theexpediency of a little less liquor, and a little more humanity, anda little less regard for herself, and a little more regard for herpatients, and perhaps a trifle of additional honesty. Or when Mrs Gampgets into trouble, Mr Sweedlepipe, it had better not be at a time when Iam near enough to the Old Bailey to volunteer myself as a witness to hercharacter. Endeavour to impress that upon her at your leisure, if youplease.'
Mrs Gamp clasped her hands, turned up her eyes until they were quiteinvisible, threw back her bonnet for the admission of fresh air to herheated brow; and in the act of saying faintly--'Less liquor!--SaireyGamp--Bottle on the chimney-piece, and let me put my lips to it, when Iam so dispoged!'--fell into one of the walking swoons; in which pitiablestate she was conducted forth by Mr Sweedlepipe, who, between his twopatients, the swooning Mrs Gamp and the revolving Bailey, had enough todo, poor fellow.
The old man looked about him, with a smile, until his eyes rested on TomPinch's sister; when he smiled the more.
'We will all dine here together,' he said; 'and as you and Mary haveenough to talk of, Martin, you shall keep house for us until theafternoon, with Mr and Mrs Tapley. I must see your lodgings in themeanwhile, Tom.'
Tom was quite delighted. So was Ruth. She would go with them.
'Thank you, my love,' said Mr Chuzzlewit. 'But I am afraid I must takeTom a little out of the way, on business. Suppose you go on first, mydear?'
Pretty little Ruth was equally delighted to do that.
'But not alone,' said Martin, 'not alone. Mr Westlock, I dare say, willescort you.'
Why, of course he would: what else had Mr Westlock in his mind? How dullthese old men are!
'You are sure you have no engagement?' he persisted.
Engagement! As if he could have any engagement!
So they went off arm-in-arm. When Tom and Mr Chuzzlewit went offarm-in-arm a few minutes after them, the latter was still smiling; andreally, for a gentleman of his habits, in rather a knowing manner.