Chapter 16: Getting on

Little Dorrit

by Charles Dickens

The newly married pair, on their arrival in Harley Street,
Cavendish Square, London, were received by the Chief Butler. That
great man was not interested in them, but on the whole endured them.
People must continue to be married and given in marriage, or Chief
Butlers would not be wanted. As nations are made to be taxed, so
families are made to be butlered. The Chief Butler, no doubt,
reflected that the course of nature required the wealthy population
to be kept up, on his account.

He therefore condescended to look at the carriage from the Hall-
door without frowning at it, and said, in a very handsome way, to one
of his men, 'Thomas, help with the luggage.' He even escorted the
Bride up-stairs into Mr Merdle's presence; but this must be
considered as an act of homage to the sex (of which he was an
admirer, being notoriously captivated by the charms of a certain
Duchess), and not as a committal of himself with the family.

Mr Merdle was slinking about the hearthrug, waiting to welcome
Mrs Sparkler. His hand seemed to retreat up his sleeve as he
advanced to do so, and he gave her such a superfluity of coat-cuff
that it was like being received by the popular conception of Guy
Fawkes. When he put his lips to hers, besides, he took himself into
custody by the wrists, and backed himself among the ottomans and
chairs and tables as if he were his own Police officer, saying to
himself, 'Now, none of that! Come! I've got you, you know, and you
go quietly along with me!'

Mrs Sparkler, installed in the rooms of state--the innermost
sanctuary of down, silk, chintz, and fine linen--felt that so far her
triumph was good, and her way made, step by step. On the day before
her marriage, she had bestowed on Mrs Merdle's maid with an air of
gracious indifference, in Mrs Merdle's presence, a trifling little
keepsake (bracelet, bonnet, and two dresses, all new) about four
times as valuable as the present formerly made by Mrs Merdle to her.
She was now established in Mrs Merdle's own rooms, to which some
extra touches had been given to render them more worthy of her
occupation. In her mind's eye, as she lounged there, surrounded by
every luxurious accessory that wealth could obtain or invention
devise, she saw the fair bosom that beat in unison with the
exultation of her thoughts, competing with the bosom that had been
famous so long, outshining it, and deposing it. Happy? Fanny must
have been happy. No more wishing one's self dead now.

The Courier had not approved of Mr Dorrit's staying in the house
of a friend, and had preferred to take him to an hotel in Brook
Street, Grosvenor Square. Mr Merdle ordered his carriage to be ready
early in the morning that he might wait upon Mr Dorrit immediately
after breakfast. Bright the carriage looked, sleek the horses looked,
gleaming the harness looked, luscious and lasting the liveries
looked. A rich, responsible turn-out. An equipage for a Merdle.
Early people looked after it as it rattled along the streets, and
said, with awe in their breath, 'There he goes!'

There he went, until Brook Street stopped him. Then, forth from
its magnificent case came the jewel; not lustrous in itself, but
quite the contrary.

Commotion in the office of the hotel. Merdle! The landlord,
though a gentleman of a haughty spirit who had just driven a pair of
thorough-bred horses into town, turned out to show him up- stairs.
The clerks and servants cut him off by back-passages, and were found
accidentally hovering in doorways and angles, that they might look
upon him. Merdle! O ye sun, moon, and stars, the great man! The
rich man, who had in a manner revised the New Testament, and already
entered into the kingdom of Heaven. The man who could have any one
he chose to dine with him, and who had made the money!

As he went up the stairs, people were already posted on the
lower stairs, that his shadow might fall upon them when he came down.
So were the sick brought out and laid in the track of the
Apostle--who had not got into the good society, and had not made the
money.

Mr Dorrit, dressing-gowned and newspapered, was at his
breakfast. The Courier, with agitation in his voice, announced 'Miss
Mairdale!' Mr Dorrit's overwrought heart bounded as he leaped up.

'Mr Merdle, this is--ha--indeed an honour. Permit me to express
the--hum--sense, the high sense, I entertain of this--ha hum-- highly
gratifying act of attention. I am well aware, sir, of the many
demands upon your time, and its--ha--enormous value,' Mr Dorrit could
not say enormous roundly enough for his own satisfaction. 'That you
should--ha--at this early hour, bestow any of your priceless time
upon me, is--ha--a compliment that I acknowledge with the greatest
esteem.' Mr Dorrit positively trembled in addressing the great
man.

Mr Merdle uttered, in his subdued, inward, hesitating voice, a
few sounds that were to no purpose whatever; and finally said, 'I am
glad to see you, sir.'

'You are very kind,' said Mr Dorrit. 'Truly kind.' By this
time the visitor was seated, and was passing his great hand over his
exhausted forehead. 'You are well, I hope, Mr Merdle?'

'I am as well as I--yes, I am as well as I usually am,' said Mr
Merdle.

'Your occupations must be immense.'

'Tolerably so. But--Oh dear no, there's not much the matter
with me,' said Mr Merdle, looking round the room.

'A little dyspeptic?' Mr Dorrit hinted.

'Very likely. But I--Oh, I am well enough,' said Mr Merdle.

There were black traces on his lips where they met, as if a
little train of gunpowder had been fired there; and he looked like a
man who, if his natural temperament had been quicker, would have been
very feverish that morning. This, and his heavy way of passing his
hand over his forehead, had prompted Mr Dorrit's solicitous
inquiries.

'Mrs Merdle,' Mr Dorrit insinuatingly pursued, 'I left, as you
will be prepared to hear, the--ha--observed of all observers,
the--hum-- admired of all admirers, the leading fascination and charm
of Society in Rome. She was looking wonderfully well when I quitted
it.'

'Mrs Merdle,' said Mr Merdle, 'is generally considered a very
attractive woman. And she is, no doubt. I am sensible of her being
so.'

'Who can be otherwise?' responded Mr Dorrit.

Mr Merdle turned his tongue in his closed mouth--it seemed
rather a stiff and unmanageable tongue--moistened his lips, passed
his hand over his forehead again, and looked all round the room
again, principally under the chairs.

'But,' he said, looking Mr Dorrit in the face for the first
time, and immediately afterwards dropping his eyes to the buttons of
Mr Dorrit's waistcoat; 'if we speak of attractions, your daughter
ought to be the subject of our conversation. She is extremely
beautiful. Both in face and figure, she is quite uncommon. When the
young people arrived last night, I was really surprised to see such
charms.'

Mr Dorrit's gratification was such that he said--ha--he could
not refrain from telling Mr Merdle verbally, as he had already done
by letter, what honour and happiness he felt in this union of their
families. And he offered his hand. Mr Merdle looked at the hand for
a little while, took it on his for a moment as if his were a yellow
salver or fish-slice, and then returned it to Mr Dorrit.

'I thought I would drive round the first thing,' said Mr Merdle,
'to offer my services, in case I can do anything for you; and to say
that I hope you will at least do me the honour of dining with me
to-day, and every day when you are not better engaged during your
stay in town.'

Mr Dorrit was enraptured by these attentions.

'Do you stay long, sir?'

'I have not at present the intention,' said Mr Dorrit, 'of
--ha-- exceeding a fortnight.'

'That's a very short stay, after so long a journey,' returned Mr
Merdle.

'Hum. Yes,' said Mr Dorrit. 'But the truth is--ha--my dear Mr
Merdle, that I find a foreign life so well suited to my health and
taste, that I--hum--have but two objects in my present visit to
London. First, the--ha--the distinguished happiness and--ha --
privilege which I now enjoy and appreciate; secondly, the
arrangement--hum--the laying out, that is to say, in the best way,
of--ha, hum--my money.'

'Well, sir,' said Mr Merdle, after turning his tongue again, 'if
I can be of any use to you in that respect, you may command me.'

Mr Dorrit's speech had had more hesitation in it than usual, as
he approached the ticklish topic, for he was not perfectly clear how
so exalted a potentate might take it. He had doubts whether
reference to any individual capital, or fortune, might not seem a
wretchedly retail affair to so wholesale a dealer. Greatly relieved
by Mr Merdle's affable offer of assistance, he caught at it directly,
and heaped acknowledgments upon him.

'I scarcely--ha--dared,' said Mr Dorrit, 'I assure you, to hope
for so--hum--vast an advantage as your direct advice and assistance.
Though of course I should, under any circumstances, like the--ha,
hum--rest of the civilised world, have followed in Mr Merdle's
train.'

'You know we may almost say we are related, sir,' said Mr
Merdle, curiously interested in the pattern of the carpet, 'and,
therefore, you may consider me at your service.'

'Ha. Very handsome, indeed!' cried Mr Dorrit. 'Ha. Most
handsome!'

'it would not,' said Mr Merdle, 'be at the present moment easy
for what I may call a mere outsider to come into any of the good
things--of course I speak of my own good things--'

'Of course, of course!' cried Mr Dorrit, in a tone implying that
there were no other good things.

'--Unless at a high price. At what we are accustomed to term a
very long figure.'

Mr Dorrit laughed in the buoyancy of his spirit. Ha, ha, ha!
Long figure. Good. Ha. Very expressive to be sure!

'However,' said Mr Merdle, 'I do generally retain in my own
hands the power of exercising some preference--people in general
would be pleased to call it favour--as a sort of compliment for my
care and trouble.' 'And public spirit and genius,' Mr Dorrit
suggested.

Mr Merdle, with a dry, swallowing action, seemed to dispose of
those qualities like a bolus; then added, 'As a sort of return for
it. I will see, if you please, how I can exert this limited power
(for people are jealous, and it is limited), to your advantage.' 'You
are very good,' replied Mr Dorrit. 'You are very good.'

'Of course,' said Mr Merdle, 'there must be the strictest
integrity and uprightness in these transactions; there must be the
purest faith between man and man; there must be unimpeached and
unimpeachable confidence; or business could not be carried on.'

Mr Dorrit hailed these generous sentiments with fervour.

'Therefore,' said Mr Merdle, 'I can only give you a preference
to a certain extent.'

'I perceive. To a defined extent,' observed Mr Dorrit.

'Defined extent. And perfectly above-board. As to my advice,
however,' said Mr Merdle, 'that is another matter. That, such as it
is--'

Oh! Such as it was! (Mr Dorrit could not bear the faintest
appearance of its being depreciated, even by Mr Merdle himself.)

'--That, there is nothing in the bonds of spotless honour
between myself and my fellow-man to prevent my parting with, if I
choose. And that,' said Mr Merdle, now deeply intent upon a
dust-cart that was passing the windows, 'shall be at your command
whenever you think proper.'

New acknowledgments from Mr Dorrit. New passages of Mr Merdle's
hand over his forehead. Calm and silence. Contemplation of Mr
Dorrit's waistcoat buttons by Mr Merdle.

'My time being rather precious,' said Mr Merdle, suddenly
getting up, as if he had been waiting in the interval for his legs
and they had just come, 'I must be moving towards the City. Can I
take you anywhere, sir? I shall be happy to set you down, or send
you on. My carriage is at your disposal.'

Mr Dorrit bethought himself that he had business at his
banker's. His banker's was in the City. That was fortunate; Mr
Merdle would take him into the City. But, surely, he might not
detain Mr Merdle while he assumed his coat? Yes, he might and must;
Mr Merdle insisted on it. So Mr Dorrit, retiring into the next room,
put himself under the hands of his valet, and in five minutes came
back glorious.

Then said Mr Merdle, 'Allow me, sir. Take my arm!' Then
leaning on Mr Merdle's arm, did Mr Dorrit descend the staircase,
seeing the worshippers on the steps, and feeling that the light of Mr
Merdle shone by reflection in himself. Then the carriage, and the
ride into the City; and the people who looked at them; and the hats
that flew off grey heads; and the general bowing and crouching before
this wonderful mortal the like of which prostration of spirit was not
to be seen--no, by high Heaven, no! It may be worth thinking of by
Fawners of all denominations--in Westminster Abbey and Saint Paul's
Cathedral put together, on any Sunday in the year. It was a
rapturous dream to Mr Dorrit to find himself set aloft in this public
car of triumph, making a magnificent progress to that befitting
destination, the golden Street of the Lombards.

There Mr Merdle insisted on alighting and going his way a-foot,
and leaving his poor equipage at Mr Dorrit's disposition. So the
dream increased in rapture when Mr Dorrit came out of the bank alone,
and people looked at him in default of Mr Merdle, and when, with the
ears of his mind, he heard the frequent exclamation as he rolled
glibly along, 'A wonderful man to be Mr Merdle's friend!'

At dinner that day, although the occasion was not foreseen and
provided for, a brilliant company of such as are not made of the dust
of the earth, but of some superior article for the present unknown,
shed their lustrous benediction upon Mr Dorrit's daughter's marriage.
And Mr Dorrit's daughter that day began, in earnest, her competition
with that woman not present; and began it so well that Mr Dorrit
could all but have taken his affidavit, if required, that Mrs
Sparkler had all her life been lying at full length in the lap of
luxury, and had never heard of such a rough word in the English
tongue as Marshalsea.

Next day, and the day after, and every day, all graced by more
dinner company, cards descended on Mr Dorrit like theatrical snow.
As the friend and relative by marriage of the illustrious Merdle,
Bar, Bishop, Treasury, Chorus, Everybody, wanted to make or improve
Mr Dorrit's acquaintance. In Mr Merdle's heap of offices in the
City, when Mr Dorrit appeared at any of them on his business taking
him Eastward (which it frequently did, for it throve amazingly), the
name of Dorrit was always a passport to the great presence of Merdle.
So the dream increased in rapture every hour, as Mr Dorrit felt
increasingly sensible that this connection had brought him forward
indeed.

Only one thing sat otherwise than auriferously, and at the same
time lightly, on Mr Dorrit's mind. It was the Chief Butler. That
stupendous character looked at him, in the course of his official
looking at the dinners, in a manner that Mr Dorrit considered
questionable. He looked at him, as he passed through the hall and up
the staircase, going to dinner, with a glazed fixedness that Mr
Dorrit did not like. Seated at table in the act of drinking, Mr
Dorrit still saw him through his wine-glass, regarding him with a
cold and ghostly eye. It misgave him that the Chief Butler must have
known a Collegian, and must have seen him in the College-- perhaps
had been presented to him. He looked as closely at the Chief Butler
as such a man could be looked at, and yet he did not recall that he
had ever seen him elsewhere. Ultimately he was inclined to think
that there was no reverence in the man, no sentiment in the great
creature. But he was not relieved by that; for, let him think what
he would, the Chief Butler had him in his supercilious eye, even when
that eye was on the plate and other table-garniture; and he never let
him out of it. To hint to him that this confinement in his eye was
disagreeable, or to ask him what he meant, was an act too daring to
venture upon; his severity with his employers and their visitors
being terrific, and he never permitting himself to be approached with
the slightest liberty.