Chapter 7
IN WHICH A FRIENDLY MOVE IS ORIGINATED
The arrangement between Mr Boffin and his literary man, Mr Silas Wegg,so far altered with the altered habits of Mr Boffin's life, as thatthe Roman Empire usually declined in the morning and in the eminentlyaristocratic family mansion, rather than in the evening, as of yore,and in Boffin's Bower. There were occasions, however, when Mr Boffin,seeking a brief refuge from the blandishments of fashion, would presenthimself at the Bower after dark, to anticipate the next sallyingforth of Wegg, and would there, on the old settle, pursue the downwardfortunes of those enervated and corrupted masters of the world who wereby this time on their last legs. If Wegg had been worse paid for hisoffice, or better qualified to discharge it, he would have consideredthese visits complimentary and agreeable; but, holding the position ofa handsomely-remunerated humbug, he resented them. This was quiteaccording to rule, for the incompetent servant, by whomsoever employed,is always against his employer. Even those born governors, noble andright honourable creatures, who have been the most imbecile in highplaces, have uniformly shown themselves the most opposed (sometimes inbelying distrust, sometimes in vapid insolence) to THEIR employer. Whatis in such wise true of the public master and servant, is equally trueof the private master and servant all the world over.
When Mr Silas Wegg did at last obtain free access to 'Our House', as hehad been wont to call the mansion outside which he had sat shelterlessso long, and when he did at last find it in all particulars as differentfrom his mental plans of it as according to the nature of things itwell could be, that far-seeing and far-reaching character, by way ofasserting himself and making out a case for compensation, affected tofall into a melancholy strain of musing over the mournful past; as ifthe house and he had had a fall in life together.
'And this, sir,' Silas would say to his patron, sadly nodding his headand musing, 'was once Our House! This, sir, is the building from which Ihave so often seen those great creatures, Miss Elizabeth, MasterGeorge, Aunt Jane, and Uncle Parker'--whose very names were of his owninventing--'pass and repass! And has it come to this, indeed! Ah dearme, dear me!'
So tender were his lamentations, that the kindly Mr Boffin was quitesorry for him, and almost felt mistrustful that in buying the house hehad done him an irreparable injury.
Two or three diplomatic interviews, the result of great subtlety on MrWegg's part, but assuming the mask of careless yielding to a fortuitouscombination of circumstances impelling him towards Clerkenwell, hadenabled him to complete his bargain with Mr Venus.
'Bring me round to the Bower,' said Silas, when the bargain was closed,'next Saturday evening, and if a sociable glass of old Jamaikey warmshould meet your views, I am not the man to begrudge it.'
'You are aware of my being poor company, sir,' replied Mr Venus, 'but beit so.'
It being so, here is Saturday evening come, and here is Mr Venus come,and ringing at the Bower-gate.
Mr Wegg opens the gate, descries a sort of brown paper truncheon underMr Venus's arm, and remarks, in a dry tone: 'Oh! I thought perhaps youmight have come in a cab.'
'No, Mr Wegg,' replies Venus. 'I am not above a parcel.'
'Above a parcel! No!' says Wegg, with some dissatisfaction. But does notopenly growl, 'a certain sort of parcel might be above you.'
'Here is your purchase, Mr Wegg,' says Venus, politely handing it over,'and I am glad to restore it to the source from whence it--flowed.'
'Thankee,' says Wegg. 'Now this affair is concluded, I may mention toyou in a friendly way that I've my doubts whether, if I had consulted alawyer, you could have kept this article back from me. I only throw itout as a legal point.'
'Do you think so, Mr Wegg? I bought you in open contract.'
'You can't buy human flesh and blood in this country, sir; not alive,you can't,' says Wegg, shaking his head. 'Then query, bone?'
'As a legal point?' asks Venus.
'As a legal point.'
'I am not competent to speak upon that, Mr Wegg,' says Venus, reddeningand growing something louder; 'but upon a point of fact I think myselfcompetent to speak; and as a point of fact I would have seen you--willyou allow me to say, further?'
'I wouldn't say more than further, if I was you,' Mr Wegg suggests,pacifically.
--'Before I'd have given that packet into your hand without being paidmy price for it. I don't pretend to know how the point of law may stand,but I'm thoroughly confident upon the point of fact.'
As Mr Venus is irritable (no doubt owing to his disappointment in love),and as it is not the cue of Mr Wegg to have him out of temper, thelatter gentleman soothingly remarks, 'I only put it as a little case; Ionly put it ha'porthetically.'
'Then I'd rather, Mr Wegg, you put it another time, penn'orth-etically,'is Mr Venus's retort, 'for I tell you candidly I don't like your littlecases.'
Arrived by this time in Mr Wegg's sitting-room, made bright on thechilly evening by gaslight and fire, Mr Venus softens and complimentshim on his abode; profiting by the occasion to remind Wegg that he(Venus) told him he had got into a good thing.
'Tolerable,' Wegg rejoins. 'But bear in mind, Mr Venus, that there'sno gold without its alloy. Mix for yourself and take a seat in thechimbley-corner. Will you perform upon a pipe, sir?'
'I am but an indifferent performer, sir,' returns the other; 'but I'llaccompany you with a whiff or two at intervals.'
So, Mr Venus mixes, and Wegg mixes; and Mr Venus lights and puffs, andWegg lights and puffs.
'And there's alloy even in this metal of yours, Mr Wegg, you wasremarking?'
'Mystery,' returns Wegg. 'I don't like it, Mr Venus. I don't like tohave the life knocked out of former inhabitants of this house, in thegloomy dark, and not know who did it.'
'Might you have any suspicions, Mr Wegg?'
'No,' returns that gentleman. 'I know who profits by it. But I've nosuspicions.'
Having said which, Mr Wegg smokes and looks at the fire with a mostdetermined expression of Charity; as if he had caught that cardinalvirtue by the skirts as she felt it her painful duty to depart from him,and held her by main force.
'Similarly,' resumes Wegg, 'I have observations as I can offer uponcertain points and parties; but I make no objections, Mr Venus. Hereis an immense fortune drops from the clouds upon a person that shall benameless. Here is a weekly allowance, with a certain weight of coals,drops from the clouds upon me. Which of us is the better man? Not theperson that shall be nameless. That's an observation of mine, but Idon't make it an objection. I take my allowance and my certain weight ofcoals. He takes his fortune. That's the way it works.'
'It would be a good thing for me, if I could see things in the calmlight you do, Mr Wegg.'
'Again look here,' pursues Silas, with an oratorical flourish of hispipe and his wooden leg: the latter having an undignified tendencyto tilt him back in his chair; 'here's another observation, Mr Venus,unaccompanied with an objection. Him that shall be nameless is liable tobe talked over. He gets talked over. Him that shall be nameless, havingme at his right hand, naturally looking to be promoted higher, and youmay perhaps say meriting to be promoted higher--'
(Mr Venus murmurs that he does say so.)
'--Him that shall be nameless, under such circumstances passes me by,and puts a talking-over stranger above my head. Which of us two is thebetter man? Which of us two can repeat most poetry? Which of us two has,in the service of him that shall be nameless, tackled the Romans, bothcivil and military, till he has got as husky as if he'd been weaned andever since brought up on sawdust? Not the talking-over stranger. Yet thehouse is as free to him as if it was his, and he has his room, and isput upon a footing, and draws about a thousand a year. I am banished tothe Bower, to be found in it like a piece of furniture whenever wanted.Merit, therefore, don't win. That's the way it works. I observe it,because I can't help observing it, being accustomed to take a powerfulsight of notice; but I don't object. Ever here before, Mr Venus?'
'Not inside the gate, Mr Wegg.'
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'You've been as far as the gate then, Mr Venus?'
'Yes, Mr Wegg, and peeped in from curiosity.'
'Did you see anything?'
'Nothing but the dust-yard.'
Mr Wegg rolls his eyes all round the room, in that ever unsatisfiedquest of his, and then rolls his eyes all round Mr Venus; as ifsuspicious of his having something about him to be found out.
'And yet, sir,' he pursues, 'being acquainted with old Mr Harmon, onewould have thought it might have been polite in you, too, to give him acall. And you're naturally of a polite disposition, you are.' This lastclause as a softening compliment to Mr Venus.
'It is true, sir,' replies Venus, winking his weak eyes, and runninghis fingers through his dusty shock of hair, 'that I was so, before acertain observation soured me. You understand to what I allude, Mr Wegg?To a certain written statement respecting not wishing to be regarded ina certain light. Since that, all is fled, save gall.'
'Not all,' says Mr Wegg, in a tone of sentimental condolence.
'Yes, sir,' returns Venus, 'all! The world may deem it harsh, but I'dquite as soon pitch into my best friend as not. Indeed, I'd sooner!'
Involuntarily making a pass with his wooden leg to guard himself as MrVenus springs up in the emphasis of this unsociable declaration, Mr Weggtilts over on his back, chair and all, and is rescued by that harmlessmisanthrope, in a disjointed state and ruefully rubbing his head.
'Why, you lost your balance, Mr Wegg,' says Venus, handing him his pipe.
'And about time to do it,' grumbles Silas, 'when a man's visitors,without a word of notice, conduct themselves with the sudden wiciousnessof Jacks-in-boxes! Don't come flying out of your chair like that, MrVenus!'
'I ask your pardon, Mr Wegg. I am so soured.'
'Yes, but hang it,' says Wegg argumentatively, 'a well-governed mind canbe soured sitting! And as to being regarded in lights, there's bumpeylights as well as bony. IN which,' again rubbing his head, 'I object toregard myself.'
'I'll bear it in memory, sir.'
'If you'll be so good.' Mr Wegg slowly subdues his ironical tone and hislingering irritation, and resumes his pipe. 'We were talking of old MrHarmon being a friend of yours.'
'Not a friend, Mr Wegg. Only known to speak to, and to have a littledeal with now and then. A very inquisitive character, Mr Wegg, regardingwhat was found in the dust. As inquisitive as secret.'
'Ah! You found him secret?' returns Wegg, with a greedy relish.
'He had always the look of it, and the manner of it.'
'Ah!' with another roll of his eyes. 'As to what was found in the dustnow. Did you ever hear him mention how he found it, my dear friend?Living on the mysterious premises, one would like to know. For instance,where he found things? Or, for instance, how he set about it? Whetherhe began at the top of the mounds, or whether he began at the bottom.Whether he prodded'; Mr Wegg's pantomime is skilful and expressive here;'or whether he scooped? Should you say scooped, my dear Mr Venus; orshould you as a man--say prodded?'
'I should say neither, Mr Wegg.'
'As a fellow-man, Mr Venus--mix again--why neither?'
'Because I suppose, sir, that what was found, was found in the sortingand sifting. All the mounds are sorted and sifted?'
'You shall see 'em and pass your opinion. Mix again.'
On each occasion of his saying 'mix again', Mr Wegg, with a hop onhis wooden leg, hitches his chair a little nearer; more as if he wereproposing that himself and Mr Venus should mix again, than that theyshould replenish their glasses.
'Living (as I said before) on the mysterious premises,' says Wegg whenthe other has acted on his hospitable entreaty, 'one likes to know.Would you be inclined to say now--as a brother--that he ever hid thingsin the dust, as well as found 'em?'
'Mr Wegg, on the whole I should say he might.'
Mr Wegg claps on his spectacles, and admiringly surveys Mr Venus fromhead to foot.
'As a mortal equally with myself, whose hand I take in mine for thefirst time this day, having unaccountably overlooked that act so full ofboundless confidence binding a fellow-creetur TO a fellow creetur,' saysWegg, holding Mr Venus's palm out, flat and ready for smiting, and nowsmiting it; 'as such--and no other--for I scorn all lowlier ties betwixtmyself and the man walking with his face erect that alone I call myTwin--regarded and regarding in this trustful bond--what do you think hemight have hid?'
'It is but a supposition, Mr Wegg.'
'As a Being with his hand upon his heart,' cries Wegg; and theapostrophe is not the less impressive for the Being's hand beingactually upon his rum and water; 'put your supposition into language,and bring it out, Mr Venus!'
'He was the species of old gentleman, sir,' slowly returns thatpractical anatomist, after drinking, 'that I should judge likely totake such opportunities as this place offered, of stowing away money,valuables, maybe papers.'
'As one that was ever an ornament to human life,' says Mr Wegg, againholding out Mr Venus's palm as if he were going to tell his fortune bychiromancy, and holding his own up ready for smiting it when the timeshould come; 'as one that the poet might have had his eye on, in writingthe national naval words:
Helm a-weather, now lay her close, Yard arm and yard arm she lies; Again, cried I, Mr Venus, give her t'other dose, Man shrouds and grapple, sir, or she flies!
--that is to say, regarded in the light of true British Oak, for suchyou are explain, Mr Venus, the expression "papers"!'
'Seeing that the old gentleman was generally cutting off some nearrelation, or blocking out some natural affection,' Mr Venus rejoins, 'hemost likely made a good many wills and codicils.'
The palm of Silas Wegg descends with a sounding smack upon the palmof Venus, and Wegg lavishly exclaims, 'Twin in opinion equally withfeeling! Mix a little more!'
Having now hitched his wooden leg and his chair close in front of MrVenus, Mr Wegg rapidly mixes for both, gives his visitor his glass,touches its rim with the rim of his own, puts his own to his lips, putsit down, and spreading his hands on his visitor's knees thus addresseshim:
'Mr Venus. It ain't that I object to being passed over for a stranger,though I regard the stranger as a more than doubtful customer. It ain'tfor the sake of making money, though money is ever welcome. It ain't formyself, though I am not so haughty as to be above doing myself a goodturn. It's for the cause of the right.'
Mr Venus, passively winking his weak eyes both at once, demands: 'Whatis, Mr Wegg?'
'The friendly move, sir, that I now propose. You see the move, sir?'
'Till you have pointed it out, Mr Wegg, I can't say whether I do ornot.'
'If there IS anything to be found on these premises, let us find ittogether. Let us make the friendly move of agreeing to look for ittogether. Let us make the friendly move of agreeing to share theprofits of it equally betwixt us. In the cause of the right.' Thus Silasassuming a noble air.
'Then,' says Mr Venus, looking up, after meditating with his hair heldin his hands, as if he could only fix his attention by fixing his head;'if anything was to be unburied from under the dust, it would be kept asecret by you and me? Would that be it, Mr Wegg?'
'That would depend upon what it was, Mr Venus. Say it was money, orplate, or jewellery, it would be as much ours as anybody else's.'
Mr Venus rubs an eyebrow, interrogatively.
'In the cause of the right it would. Because it would be unknowinglysold with the mounds else, and the buyer would get what he was nevermeant to have, and never bought. And what would that be, Mr Venus, butthe cause of the wrong?'
'Say it was papers,' Mr Venus propounds.
'According to what they contained we should offer to dispose of 'em tothe parties most interested,' replies Wegg, promptly.
'In the cause of the right, Mr Wegg?'
'Always so, Mr Venus. If the parties should use them in the cause of thewrong, that would be their act and deed. Mr Venus. I have an opinion ofyou, sir, to which it is not easy to give mouth. Si
nce I called upon youthat evening when you were, as I may say, floating your powerful mind intea, I have felt that you required to be roused with an object. In thisfriendly move, sir, you will have a glorious object to rouse you.'
Mr Wegg then goes on to enlarge upon what throughout has been uppermostin his crafty mind:--the qualifications of Mr Venus for such a search.He expatiates on Mr Venus's patient habits and delicate manipulation; onhis skill in piecing little things together; on his knowledge of varioustissues and textures; on the likelihood of small indications leading himon to the discovery of great concealments. 'While as to myself,' saysWegg, 'I am not good at it. Whether I gave myself up to prodding,or whether I gave myself up to scooping, I couldn't do it with thatdelicate touch so as not to show that I was disturbing the mounds.Quite different with YOU, going to work (as YOU would) in the light ofa fellow-man, holily pledged in a friendly move to his brother man.' MrWegg next modestly remarks on the want of adaptation in a wooden legto ladders and such like airy perches, and also hints at an inherenttendency in that timber fiction, when called into action for thepurposes of a promenade on an ashey slope, to stick itself into theyielding foothold, and peg its owner to one spot. Then, leaving thispart of the subject, he remarks on the special phenomenon that beforehis installation in the Bower, it was from Mr Venus that he first heardof the legend of hidden wealth in the Mounds: 'which', he observes witha vaguely pious air, 'was surely never meant for nothing.' Lastly,he returns to the cause of the right, gloomily foreshadowing thepossibility of something being unearthed to criminate Mr Boffin (of whomhe once more candidly admits it cannot be denied that he profits by amurder), and anticipating his denunciation by the friendly movers toavenging justice. And this, Mr Wegg expressly points out, not at all forthe sake of the reward--though it would be a want of principle not totake it.
To all this, Mr Venus, with his shock of dusty hair cocked after themanner of a terrier's ears, attends profoundly. When Mr Wegg, havingfinished, opens his arms wide, as if to show Mr Venus how bare hisbreast is, and then folds them pending a reply, Mr Venus winks at himwith both eyes some little time before speaking.
'I see you have tried it by yourself, Mr Wegg,' he says when he doesspeak. 'You have found out the difficulties by experience.'
'No, it can hardly be said that I have tried it,' replies Wegg, a littledashed by the hint. 'I have just skimmed it. Skimmed it.'
'And found nothing besides the difficulties?'
Wegg shakes his head.
'I scarcely know what to say to this, Mr Wegg,' observes Venus, afterruminating for a while.
'Say yes,' Wegg naturally urges.
'If I wasn't soured, my answer would be no. But being soured, Mr Wegg,and driven to reckless madness and desperation, I suppose it's Yes.'
Wegg joyfully reproduces the two glasses, repeats the ceremony ofclinking their rims, and inwardly drinks with great heartiness to thehealth and success in life of the young lady who has reduced Mr Venus tohis present convenient state of mind.
The articles of the friendly move are then severally recited and agreedupon. They are but secrecy, fidelity, and perseverance. The Bower tobe always free of access to Mr Venus for his researches, and everyprecaution to be taken against their attracting observation in theneighbourhood.
'There's a footstep!' exclaims Venus.
'Where?' cries Wegg, starting.
'Outside. St!'
They are in the act of ratifying the treaty of friendly move, by shakinghands upon it. They softly break off, light their pipes which have goneout, and lean back in their chairs. No doubt, a footstep. It approachesthe window, and a hand taps at the glass. 'Come in!' calls Wegg; meaningcome round by the door. But the heavy old-fashioned sash is slowlyraised, and a head slowly looks in out of the dark background of night.
'Pray is Mr Silas Wegg here? Oh! I see him!'
The friendly movers might not have been quite at their ease, eventhough the visitor had entered in the usual manner. But, leaning on thebreast-high window, and staring in out of the darkness, they find thevisitor extremely embarrassing. Especially Mr Venus: who removes hispipe, draws back his head, and stares at the starer, as if it were hisown Hindoo baby come to fetch him home.
'Good evening, Mr Wegg. The yard gate-lock should be looked to, if youplease; it don't catch.'
'Is it Mr Rokesmith?' falters Wegg.
'It is Mr Rokesmith. Don't let me disturb you. I am not coming in. Ihave only a message for you, which I undertook to deliver on my way hometo my lodgings. I was in two minds about coming beyond the gate withoutringing: not knowing but you might have a dog about.'
'I wish I had,' mutters Wegg, with his back turned as he rose from hischair. St! Hush! The talking-over stranger, Mr Venus.'
'Is that any one I know?' inquires the staring Secretary.
'No, Mr Rokesmith. Friend of mine. Passing the evening with me.'
'Oh! I beg his pardon. Mr Boffin wishes you to know that he does notexpect you to stay at home any evening, on the chance of his coming. Ithas occurred to him that he may, without intending it, have been a tieupon you. In future, if he should come without notice, he will take hischance of finding you, and it will be all the same to him if he doesnot. I undertook to tell you on my way. That's all.'
With that, and 'Good night,' the Secretary lowers the window, anddisappears. They listen, and hear his footsteps go back to the gate, andhear the gate close after him.
'And for that individual, Mr Venus,' remarks Wegg, when he is fullygone, 'I have been passed over! Let me ask you what you think of him?'
Apparently, Mr Venus does not know what to think of him, for he makessundry efforts to reply, without delivering himself of any otherarticulate utterance than that he has 'a singular look'.
'A double look, you mean, sir,' rejoins Wegg, playing bitterly upon theword. 'That's HIS look. Any amount of singular look for me, but not adouble look! That's an under-handed mind, sir.'
'Do you say there's something against him?' Venus asks.
'Something against him?' repeats Wegg. 'Something? What would the reliefbe to my feelings--as a fellow-man--if I wasn't the slave of truth, anddidn't feel myself compelled to answer, Everything!'
See into what wonderful maudlin refuges, featherless ostriches plungetheir heads! It is such unspeakable moral compensation to Wegg, to beovercome by the consideration that Mr Rokesmith has an underhanded mind!
'On this starlight night, Mr Venus,' he remarks, when he is showing thatfriendly mover out across the yard, and both are something the worsefor mixing again and again: 'on this starlight night to think thattalking-over strangers, and underhanded minds, can go walking home underthe sky, as if they was all square!'
'The spectacle of those orbs,' says Mr Venus, gazing upward with his hattumbling off; 'brings heavy on me her crushing words that she did notwish to regard herself nor yet to be regarded in that--'
'I know! I know! You needn't repeat 'em,' says Wegg, pressing his hand.'But think how those stars steady me in the cause of the right againstsome that shall be nameless. It isn't that I bear malice. But see howthey glisten with old remembrances! Old remembrances of what, sir?'
Mr Venus begins drearily replying, 'Of her words, in her ownhandwriting, that she does not wish to regard herself, nor yet--' whenSilas cuts him short with dignity.
'No, sir! Remembrances of Our House, of Master George, of Aunt Jane, ofUncle Parker, all laid waste! All offered up sacrifices to the minion offortune and the worm of the hour!'