Chapter 2: Mrs General

Little Dorrit

by Charles Dickens

It is indispensable to present the accomplished lady who was of
sufficient importance in the suite of the Dorrit Family to have a
line to herself in the Travellers' Book.

Mrs General was the daughter of a clerical dignitary in a
cathedral town, where she had led the fashion until she was as near
forty- five as a single lady can be. A stiff commissariat officer of
sixty, famous as a martinet, had then become enamoured of the gravity
with which she drove the proprieties four-in-hand through the
cathedral town society, and had solicited to be taken beside her on
the box of the cool coach of ceremony to which that team was
harnessed. His proposal of marriage being accepted by the lady, the
commissary took his seat behind the proprieties with great decorum,
and Mrs General drove until the commissary died. In the course of
their united journey, they ran over several people who came in the
way of the proprieties; but always in a high style and with
composure.

The commissary having been buried with all the decorations
suitable to the service (the whole team of proprieties were harnessed
to his hearse, and they all had feathers and black velvet housings
with his coat of arms in the corner), Mrs General began to inquire
what quantity of dust and ashes was deposited at the bankers'. It
then transpired that the commissary had so far stolen a march on Mrs
General as to have bought himself an annuity some years before his
marriage, and to have reserved that circumstance in mentioning, at
the period of his proposal, that his income was derived from the
interest of his money. Mrs General consequently found her means so
much diminished, that, but for the perfect regulation of her mind,
she might have felt disposed to question the accuracy of that portion
of the late service which had declared that the commissary could take
nothing away with him.

In this state of affairs it occurred to Mrs General, that she
might 'form the mind,' and eke the manners of some young lady of
distinction. Or, that she might harness the proprieties to the
carriage of some rich young heiress or widow, and become at once the
driver and guard of such vehicle through the social mazes. Mrs
General's communication of this idea to her clerical and commissariat
connection was so warmly applauded that, but for the lady's undoubted
merit, it might have appeared as though they wanted to get rid of
her. Testimonials representing Mrs General as a prodigy of piety,
learning, virtue, and gentility, were lavishly contributed from
influential quarters; and one venerable archdeacon even shed tears in
recording his testimony to her perfections (described to him by
persons on whom he could rely), though he had never had the honour
and moral gratification of setting eyes on Mrs General in all his
life.

Thus delegated on her mission, as it were by Church and State,
Mrs General, who had always occupied high ground, felt in a condition
to keep it, and began by putting herself up at a very high figure.
An interval of some duration elapsed, in which there was no bid for
Mrs General. At length a county-widower, with a daughter of
fourteen, opened negotiations with the lady; and as it was a part
either of the native dignity or of the artificial policy of Mrs
General (but certainly one or the other) to comport herself as if she
were much more sought than seeking, the widower pursued Mrs General
until he prevailed upon her to form his daughter's mind and
manners.

The execution of this trust occupied Mrs General about seven
years, in the course of which time she made the tour of Europe, and
saw most of that extensive miscellany of objects which it is
essential that all persons of polite cultivation should see with
other people's eyes, and never with their own. When her charge was
at length formed, the marriage, not only of the young lady, but
likewise of her father, the widower, was resolved on. The widower
then finding Mrs General both inconvenient and expensive, became of a
sudden almost as much affected by her merits as the archdeacon had
been, and circulated such praises of her surpassing worth, in all
quarters where he thought an opportunity might arise of transferring
the blessing to somebody else, that Mrs General was a name more
honourable than ever.

The phoenix was to let, on this elevated perch, when Mr Dorrit,
who had lately succeeded to his property, mentioned to his bankers
that he wished to discover a lady, well-bred, accomplished, well
connected, well accustomed to good society, who was qualified at once
to complete the education of his daughters, and to be their matron or
chaperon. Mr Dorrit's bankers, as bankers of the county- widower,
instantly said, 'Mrs General.'

Pursuing the light so fortunately hit upon, and finding the
concurrent testimony of the whole of Mrs General's acquaintance to be
of the pathetic nature already recorded, Mr Dorrit took the trouble
of going down to the county of the county-widower to see Mrs General,
in whom he found a lady of a quality superior to his highest
expectations.

'Might I be excused,' said Mr Dorrit, 'if I inquired--ha--what
remune--'

'Why, indeed,' returned Mrs General, stopping the word, 'it is a
subject on which I prefer to avoid entering. I have never entered on
it with my friends here; and I cannot overcome the delicacy, Mr
Dorrit, with which I have always regarded it. I am not, as I hope
you are aware, a governess--'

'O dear no!' said Mr Dorrit. 'Pray, madam, do not imagine for a
moment that I think so.' He really blushed to be suspected of it.

Mrs General gravely inclined her head. 'I cannot, therefore,
put a price upon services which it is a pleasure to me to render if I
can render them spontaneously, but which I could not render in mere
return for any consideration. Neither do I know how, or where, to
find a case parallel to my own. It is peculiar.'

No doubt. But how then (Mr Dorrit not unnaturally hinted) could
the subject be approached. 'I cannot object,' said Mrs
General--'though even that is disagreeable to me--to Mr Dorrit's
inquiring, in confidence of my friends here, what amount they have
been accustomed, at quarterly intervals, to pay to my credit at my
bankers'.'

Mr Dorrit bowed his acknowledgements.

'Permit me to add,' said Mrs General, 'that beyond this, I can
never resume the topic. Also that I can accept no second or inferior
position. If the honour were proposed to me of becoming known to Mr
Dorrit's family--I think two daughters were mentioned?--'

'Two daughters.'

'I could only accept it on terms of perfect equality, as a
companion, protector, Mentor, and friend.'

Mr Dorrit, in spite of his sense of his importance, felt as if
it would be quite a kindness in her to accept it on any conditions.
He almost said as much.

'I think,' repeated Mrs General, 'two daughters were
mentioned?'

'Two daughters,' said Mr Dorrit again.

'It would therefore,' said Mrs General, 'be necessary to add a
third more to the payment (whatever its amount may prove to be),
which my friends here have been accustomed to make to my
bankers'.'

Mr Dorrit lost no time in referring the delicate question to the
county-widower, and finding that he had been accustomed to pay three
hundred pounds a-year to the credit of Mrs General, arrived, without
any severe strain on his arithmetic, at the conclusion that he
himself must pay four. Mrs General being an article of that lustrous
surface which suggests that it is worth any money, he made a formal
proposal to be allowed to have the honour and pleasure of regarding
her as a member of his family. Mrs General conceded that high
privilege, and here she was.

In person, Mrs General, including her skirts which had much to
do with it, was of a dignified and imposing appearance; ample,
rustling, gravely voluminous; always upright behind the proprieties.
She might have been taken--had been taken--to the top of the Alps and
the bottom of Herculaneum, without disarranging a fold in her dress,
or displacing a pin. If her countenance and hair had rather a floury
appearance, as though from living in some transcendently genteel
Mill, it was rather because she was a chalky creation altogether,
than because she mended her complexion with violet powder, or had
turned grey. If her eyes had no expression, it was probably because
they had nothing to express. If she had few wrinkles, it was because
her mind had never traced its name or any other inscription on her
face. A cool, waxy, blown-out woman, who had never lighted well. Mrs
General had no opinions. Her way of forming a mind was to prevent it
from forming opinions. She had a little circular set of mental
grooves or rails on which she started little trains of other people's
opinions, which never overtook one another, and never got anywhere.
Even her propriety could not dispute that there was impropriety in
the world; but Mrs General's way of getting rid of it was to put it
out of sight, and make believe that there was no such thing. This
was another of her ways of forming a mind--to cram all articles of
difficulty into cupboards, lock them up, and say they had no
existence. It was the easiest way, and, beyond all comparison, the
properest.

Mrs General was not to be told of anything shocking. Accidents,
miseries, and offences, were never to be mentioned before her.
Passion was to go to sleep in the presence of Mrs General, and blood
was to change to milk and water. The little that was left in the
world, when all these deductions were made, it was Mrs General's
province to varnish. In that formation process of hers, she dipped
the smallest of brushes into the largest of pots, and varnished the
surface of every object that came under consideration. The more
cracked it was, the more Mrs General varnished it. There was varnish
in Mrs General's voice, varnish in Mrs General's touch, an atmosphere
of varnish round Mrs General's figure. Mrs General's dreams ought to
have been varnished--if she had any-- lying asleep in the arms of the
good Saint Bernard, with the feathery snow falling on his
house-top.