Chapter Twenty-Eight

Martin Chuzzlewit

by Charles Dickens

MR MONTAGUE AT HOME. AND MR JONAS CHUZZLEWIT AT HOME

There were many powerful reasons for Jonas Chuzzlewit being
strongly prepossessed in favour of the scheme which its great
originator had so boldly laid open to him; but three among them stood
prominently forward. Firstly, there was money to be made by it.
Secondly, the money had the peculiar charm of being sagaciously
obtained at other people's cost. Thirdly, it involved much outward
show of homage and distinction: a board being an awful institution in
its own sphere, and a director a mighty man. 'To make a swingeing
profit, have a lot of chaps to order about, and get into regular good
society by one and the same means, and them so easy to one's hand,
ain't such a bad look-out,' thought Jonas. The latter considerations
were only second to his avarice; for, conscious that there was
nothing in his person, conduct, character, or accomplishments, to
command respect, he was greedy of power, and was, in his heart, as
much a tyrant as any laureled conqueror on record.

But he determined to proceed with cunning and caution, and to be
very keen on his observation of the gentility of Mr Montague's
private establishment. For it no more occurred to this shallow knave
that Montague wanted him to be so, or he wouldn't have invited him
while his decision was yet in abeyance, than the possibility of that
genius being able to overreach him in any way, pierced through his
self-deceit by the inlet of a needle's point. He had said, in the
outset, that Jonas was too sharp for him; and Jonas, who would have
been sharp enough to believe him in nothing else, though he had
solemnly sworn it, believed him in that, instantly.

It was with a faltering hand, and yet with an imbecile attempt
at a swagger, that he knocked at his new friend's door in Pall Mall
when the appointed hour arrived. Mr Bailey quickly answered to the
summons. He was not proud and was kindly disposed to take notice of
Jonas; but Jonas had forgotten him.

'Mr Montague at home?'

'I should hope he wos at home, and waiting dinner, too,' said
Bailey, with the ease of an old acquaintance. 'Will you take your
hat up along with you, or leave it here?'

Mr Jonas preferred leaving it there.

'The hold name, I suppose?' said Bailey, with a grin.

Mr Jonas stared at him in mute indignation.

'What, don't you remember hold mother Todgers's?' said Mr
Bailey, with his favourite action of the knees and boots. 'Don't you
remember my taking your name up to the young ladies, when you came
a-courting there? A reg'lar scaly old shop, warn't it? Times is
changed ain't they. I say how you've growed!'

Without pausing for any acknowledgement of this compliment, he
ushered the visitor upstairs, and having announced him, retired with
a private wink.

The lower story of the house was occupied by a wealthy
tradesman, but Mr Montague had all the upper portion, and splendid
lodging it was. The room in which he received Jonas was a spacious
and elegant apartment, furnished with extreme magnificence; decorated
with pictures, copies from the antique in alabaster and marble, china
vases, lofty mirrors, crimson hangings of the richest silk, gilded
carvings, luxurious couches, glistening cabinets inlaid with precious
woods; costly toys of every sort in negligent abundance. The only
guests besides Jonas were the doctor, the resident Director, and two
other gentlemen, whom Montague presented in due form.

'My dear friend, I am delighted to see you. Jobling you know, I
believe?'

'I think so,' said the doctor pleasantly, as he stepped out of
the circle to shake hands. 'I trust I have the honour. I hope so.
My dear sir, I see you well. Quite well? That's well!'

'Mr Wolf,' said Montague, as soon as the doctor would allow him
to introduce the two others, 'Mr Chuzzlewit. Mr Pip, Mr
Chuzzlewit.'

Both gentlemen were exceedingly happy to have the honour of
making Mr Chuzzlewit's acquaintance. The doctor drew Jonas a little
apart, and whispered behind his hand:

'Men of the world, my dear sir--men of the world. Hem! Mr Wolf
--literary character--you needn't mention it--remarkably clever
weekly paper--oh, remarkably clever! Mr Pip--theatrical man--
capital man to know--oh, capital man!'

'Well!' said Wolf, folding his arms and resuming a conversation
which the arrival of Jonas had interrupted. 'And what did Lord
Nobley say to that?'

'Why,' returned Pip, with an oath. 'He didn't know what to say.
Same, sir, if he wasn't as mute as a poker. But you know what a good
fellow Nobley is!'

'The best fellow in the world!' cried Wolf. 'It as only last
week that Nobley said to me, "By Gad, Wolf, I've got a living to
bestow, and if you had but been brought up at the University, strike
me blind if I wouldn't have made a parson of you!"'

'Just like him,' said Pip with another oath. 'And he'd have
done it!'

'Not a doubt of it,' said Wolf. 'But you were going to tell
us--'

'Oh, yes!' cried Pip. 'To be sure. So I was. At first he was
dumb--sewn up, dead, sir--but after a minute he said to the Duke,
"Here's Pip. Ask Pip. Pip's our mutual friend. Ask Pip. He
knows." "Damme!" said the Duke, "I appeal to Pip then. Come, Pip.
Bandy or not bandy? Speak out!" "Bandy, your Grace, by the Lord
Harry!" said I. "Ha, ha!" laughed the Duke. "To be sure she is.
Bravo, Pip. Well said Pip. I wish I may die if you're not a trump,
Pip. Pop me down among your fashionable visitors whenever I'm in
town, Pip." And so I do, to this day.'

The conclusion of this story gave immense satisfaction, which
was in no degree lessened by the announcement of dinner. Jonas
repaired to the dining room, along with his distinguished host, and
took his seat at the board between that individual and his friend the
doctor. The rest fell into their places like men who were well
accustomed to the house; and dinner was done full justice to, by all
parties.

It was a good a one as money (or credit, no matter which) could
produce. The dishes, wines, and fruits were of the choicest kind.
Everything was elegantly served. The plate was gorgeous. Mr Jonas
was in the midst of a calculation of the value of this item alone,
when his host disturbed him.

'A glass of wine?'

'Oh!' said Jonas, who had had several glasses already. 'As much
of that as you like! It's too good to refuse.'

'Well said, Mr Chuzzlewit!' cried Wolf.

'Tom Gag, upon my soul!' said Pip.

'Positively, you know, that's--ha, ha, ha!' observed the doctor,
laying down his knife and fork for one instant, and then going to
work again, pell-mell--'that's epigrammatic; quite!'

'You're tolerably comfortable, I hope?' said Tigg, apart to
Jonas.

'Oh! You needn't trouble your head about me,' he replied,
'Famous!'

'I thought it best not to have a party,' said Tigg. 'You feel
that?'

'Why, what do you call this?' retorted Jonas. 'You don't mean
to say you do this every day, do you?'

'My dear fellow,' said Montague, shrugging his shoulders, 'every
day of my life, when I dine at home. This is my common style. It
was of no use having anything uncommon for you. You'd have seen
through it. "You'll have a party?" said Crimple. "No, I won't," I
said. "he shall take us in the rough!"

'And pretty smooth, too, ecod!' said Jonas, glancing round the
table. 'This don't cost a trifle.'

'Why, to be candid with you, it does not,' returned the other.
'But I like this sort of thing. It's the way I spend my money.'

Jonas thrust his tongue into his cheek, and said, 'Was it?'

'When you join us, you won't get rid of your share of the
profits in the same way?' said Tigg.

'Quite different,' retorted Jonas.

'Well, and you're right,' said Tigg, with friendly candour.
'You needn't. It's not necessary. One of a Company must do it to
hold the connection together; but, as I take a pleasure in it, that's
my department. You don't mind dining expensively at another man's
expense, I hope?'

'Not a bit,' said Jonas.

'Then I hope you'll often dine with me?'

'Ah!' said Jonas, 'I don't mind. On the contrary.'

'And I'll never attempt to talk business to you over wine, I
take my oath,' said Tigg. 'Oh deep, deep, deep of you this morning!
I must tell 'em that. They're the very men to enjoy it. Pip, my
good fellow, I've a splendid little trait to tell you of my friend
Chuzzlewit who is the deepest dog I know; I give you my sacred word
of honour he is the deepest dog I know, Pip!'

Pip swore a frightful oath that he was sure of it already; and
the anecdote, being told, was received with loud applause, as an
incontestable proof of Mr Jonas's greatness. Pip, in a natural
spirit of emulation, then related some instances of his own depth;
and Wolf not to be left behind-hand, recited the leading points of
one or two vastly humorous articles he was then preparing. These
lucubrations being of what he called 'a warm complexion,' were highly
approved; and all the company agreed that they were full of point.

'Men of the world, my dear sir,' Jobling whispered to Jonas;
'thorough men of the world! To a professional person like myself
it's quite refreshing to come into this kind of society. It's not
only agreeable--and nothing can be more agreeable--but it's
philosophically improving. It's character, my dear sir;
character!'

It is so pleasant to find real merit appreciated, whatever its
particular walk in life may be, that the general harmony of the
company was doubtless much promoted by their knowing that the two men
of the world were held in great esteem by the upper classes of
society, and by the gallant defenders of their country in the army
and navy, but particularly the former. The least of their stories
had a colonel in it; lords were as plentiful as oaths; and even the
Blood Royal ran in the muddy channel of their personal
recollections.

'Mr Chuzzlewit didn't know him, I'm afraid,' said Wolf, in
reference to a certain personage of illustrious descent, who had
previously figured in a reminiscence.

'No,' said Tigg. 'But we must bring him into contact with this
sort of fellows.'

'He was very fond of literature,' observed Wolf.

'Was he?' said Tigg.

'Oh, yes; he took my paper regularly for many years. Do you
know he said some good things now and then? He asked a certain
Viscount, who's a friend of mine--Pip knows him--"What's the editor's
name, what's the editor's name?" "Wolf." "Wolf, eh? Sharp biter,
Wolf. We must keep the Wolf from the door, as the proverb says. It
was very well. And being complimentary, I printed it.'

'But the Viscount's the boy!' cried Pip, who invented a new oath
for the introduction of everything he said. 'The Viscount's the boy!
He came into our place one night to take Her home; rather slued, but
not much; and said, "Where's Pip? I want to see Pip. Produce
Pip!"--"What's the row, my lord?"--"Shakspeare's an infernal humbug,
Pip! What's the good of Shakspeare, Pip? I never read him. What
the devil is it all about, Pip? There's a lot of feet in
Shakspeare's verse, but there an't any legs worth mentioning in
Shakspeare's plays, are there, Pip? Juliet, Desdemona, Lady Macbeth,
and all the rest of 'em, whatever their names are, might as well have
no legs at all, for anything the audience know about it, Pip. Why,
in that respect they're all Miss Biffins to the audience, Pip. I'll
tell you what it is. What the people call dramatic poetry is a
collection of sermons. Do I go to the theatre to be lectured? No,
Pip. If I wanted that, I'd go to church. What's the legitimate
object of the drama, Pip? Human nature. What are legs? Human
nature. Then let us have plenty of leg pieces, Pip, and I'll stand
by you, my buck!" and I am proud to say,' added Pip, 'that he did
stand by me, handsomely.'

The conversation now becoming general, Mr Jonas's opinion was
requested on this subject; and as it was in full accordance with the
sentiments of Mr Pip, that gentleman was extremely gratified. Indeed,
both himself and Wolf had so much in common with Jonas, that they
became very amicable; and between their increasing friendship and the
fumes of wine, Jonas grew talkative.

It does not follow in the case of such a person that the more
talkative he becomes, the more agreeable he is; on the contrary, his
merits show to most advantage, perhaps, in silence. Having no means,
as he thought, of putting himself on an equality with the rest, but
by the assertion of that depth and sharpness on which he had been
complimented, Jonas exhibited that faculty to the utmost; and was so
deep and sharp that he lost himself in his own profundity, and cut
his fingers with his own edge-tools.

It was especially in his way and character to exhibit his
quality at his entertainer's expense; and while he drank of his
sparkling wines, and partook of his monstrous profusion, to ridicule
the extravagance which had set such costly fare before him. Even at
such a wanton board, and in such more than doubtful company, this
might have proved a disagreeable experiment, but that Tigg and
Crimple, studying to understand their man thoroughly, gave him what
license he chose: knowing that the more he took, the better for their
purpose. And thus while the blundering cheat--gull that he was, for
all his cunning--thought himself rolled up hedgehog fashion, with his
sharpest points towards them, he was, in fact, betraying all his
vulnerable parts to their unwinking watchfulness.

Whether the two gentlemen who contributed so much to the
doctor's philosophical knowledge (by the way, the doctor slipped off
quietly, after swallowing his usual amount of wine) had had their cue
distinctly from the host, or took it from what they saw and heard,
they acted their parts very well. They solicited the honour of
Jonas's better acquaintance; trusted that they would have the
pleasure of introducing him into that elevated society in which he
was so well qualified to shine; and informed him, in the most
friendly manner that the advantages of their respective
establishments were entirely at his control. In a word, they said
'Be one of us!' And Jonas said he was infinitely obliged to them,
and he would be; adding within himself, that so long as they 'stood
treat,' there was nothing he would like better.

After coffee, which was served in the drawing-room, there was a
short interval (mainly sustained by Pip and Wolf) of conversation;
rather highly spiced and strongly seasoned. When it flagged, Jonas
took it up and showed considerable humour in appraising the
furniture; inquiring whether such an article was paid for; what it
had originally cost, and the like. In all of this, he was, as he
considered, desperately hard on Montague, and very demonstrative of
his own brilliant parts.

Some Champagne Punch gave a new though temporary fillip to the
entertainments of the evening. For after leading to some noisy
proceedings, which were not intelligible, it ended in the unsteady
departure of the two gentlemen of the world, and the slumber of Mr
Jonas upon one of the sofas.

As he could not be made to understand where he was, Mr Bailey
received orders to call a hackney-coach, and take him home; which
that young gentleman roused himself from an uneasy sleep in the hall
to do. It being now almost three o'clock in the morning.

'Is he hooked, do you think?' whispered Crimple, as himself and
partner stood in a distant part of the room observing him as he
lay.

'Aye!' said Tigg, in the same tone. 'With a strong iron,
perhaps. Has Nadgett been here to-night?'

'Yes. I went out to him. Hearing you had company, he went
away.'

'Why did he do that?'

'He said he would come back early in the morning, before you
were out of bed.'

'Tell them to be sure and send him up to my bedside. Hush!
Here's the boy! Now Mr Bailey, take this gentleman home, and see him
safely in. Hallo, here! Why Chuzzlewit, halloa!'

They got him upright with some difficulty, and assisted him
downstairs, where they put his hat upon his head, and tumbled him
into the coach. Mr Bailey, having shut him in, mounted the box
beside the coachman, and smoked his cigar with an air of particular
satisfaction; the undertaking in which he was engaged having a free
and sporting character about it, which was quite congenial to his
taste.

Arriving in due time at the house in the City, Mr Bailey jumped
down, and expressed the lively nature of his feelings in a knock the
like of which had probably not been heard in that quarter since the
great fire of London. Going out into the road to observe the effect
of this feat, he saw that a dim light, previously visible at an upper
window, had been already removed and was travelling downstairs. To
obtain a foreknowledge of the bearer of this taper, Mr Bailey skipped
back to the door again, and put his eye to the keyhole.

It was the merry one herself. But sadly, strangely altered! So
careworn and dejected, so faltering and full of fear; so fallen,
humbled, broken; that to have seen her quiet in her coffin would have
been a less surprise.

She set the light upon a bracket in the hall, and laid her hand
upon her heart; upon her eyes; upon her burning head. Then she came
on towards the door with such a wild and hurried step that Mr Bailey
lost his self-possession, and still had his eye where the keyhole had
been, when she opened it.

'Aha!' said Mr Bailey, with an effort. 'There you are, are you?
What's the matter? Ain't you well, though?'

In the midst of her astonishment as she recognized him in his
altered dress, so much of her old smile came back to her face that
Bailey was glad. But next moment he was sorry again, for he saw
tears standing in her poor dim eyes.

'Don't be frightened,' said Bailey. 'There ain't nothing the
matter. I've brought home Mr Chuzzlewit. He ain't ill. He's only a
little swipey, you know.' Mr Bailey reeled in his boots, to express
intoxication.

'Have you come from Mrs Todgers's?' asked Merry, trembling.

'Todgers's, bless you! No!' cried Mr Bailey. 'I haven't got
nothin, to do with Todgers's. I cut that connection long ago. He's
been a- dining with my governor at the west-end. Didn't you know he
was a- coming to see us?'

'No,' she said, faintly.

'Oh yes! We're heavy swells too, and so I tell you. Don't you
come out, a-catching cold in your head. I'll wake him!' Mr Bailey
expressing in his demeanour a perfect confidence that he could carry
him in with ease, if necessary, opened the coach door, let down the
steps, and giving Jonas a shake, cried 'We've got home, my flower!
Tumble up, then!'

He was so far recovered as to be able to respond to this appeal,
and to come stumbling out of the coach in a heap, to the great hazard
of Mr Bailey's person. When he got upon the pavement, Mr Bailey
first butted at him in front, and then dexterously propped him up
behind; and having steadied him by these means, he assisted him into
the house.

'You go up first with the light,' said Bailey to Mr Jonas, 'and
we'll foller. Don't tremble so. He won't hurt you. When I've had a
drop too much, I'm full of good natur myself.'

She went on before; and her husband and Bailey, by dint of
tumbling over each other, and knocking themselves about, got at last
into the sitting-room above stairs, where Jonas staggered into a
seat.

'There!' said Mr Bailey. 'He's all right now. You ain't got
nothing to cry for, bless you! He's righter than a trivet!'

The ill-favoured brute, with dress awry, and sodden face, and
rumpled hair, sat blinking and drooping, and rolling his idiotic eyes
about, until, becoming conscious by degrees, he recognized his wife,
and shook his fist at her.

'Ah!' cried Mr Bailey, squaring his arms with a sudden emotion.
'What, you're wicious, are you? Would you though! You'd better
not!'

'Pray, go away!' said Merry. 'Bailey, my good boy, go home.
Jonas!' she said; timidly laying her hand upon his shoulder, and
bending her head down over him. 'Jonas!'

'Look at her!' cried Jonas, pushing her off with his extended
arm. 'Look here! Look at her! Here's a bargain for a man!'

'Dear Jonas!'

'Dear Devil!' he replied, with a fierce gesture. 'You're a
pretty clog to be tied to a man for life, you mewling, white-faced
cat! Get out of my sight!'

'I know you don't mean it, Jonas. You wouldn't say it if you
were sober.'

With affected gayety she gave Bailey a piece of money, and again
implored him to be gone. Her entreaty was so earnest, that the boy
had not the heart to stay there. But he stopped at the bottom of the
stairs, and listened.

'I wouldn't say it if I was sober!' retorted Jonas. 'You know
better. Have I never said it when I was sober?'

'Often, indeed!' she answered through her tears.

'Hark ye!' cried Jonas, stamping his foot upon the ground. 'You
made me bear your pretty humours once, and ecod I'll make you bear
mine now. I always promised myself I would. I married you that I
might. I'll know who's master, and who's slave!'

'Heaven knows I am obedient!' said the sobbing girl. 'Much more
so than I ever thought to be!'

Jonas laughed in his drunken exultation. 'What! you're finding
it out, are you! Patience, and you will in time! Griffins have
claws, my girl. There's not a pretty slight you ever put upon me,
nor a pretty trick you ever played me, nor a pretty insolence you
ever showed me, that I won't pay back a hundred-fold. What else did
I marry you for? You, too!' he said, with coarse contempt.

It might have softened him--indeed it might--to hear her turn a
little fragment of a song he used to say he liked; trying, with a
heart so full, to win him back.

'Oho!' he said, 'you're deaf, are you? You don't hear me, eh?
So much the better for you. I hate you. I hate myself, for having,
been fool enough to strap a pack upon my back for the pleasure of
treading on it whenever I choose. Why, things have opened to me,
now, so that I might marry almost where I liked. But I wouldn't; I'd
keep single. I ought to be single, among the friends I know. Instead
of that, here I am, tied like a log to you. Pah! Why do you show
your pale face when I come home? Am I never to forget you?'

'How late it is!' she said cheerfully, opening the shutter after
an interval of silence. 'Broad day, Jonas!'

'Broad day or black night, what do I care!' was the kind
rejoinder.

'The night passed quickly, too. I don't mind sitting up, at
all.'

'Sit up for me again, if you dare!' growled Jonas.

'I was reading,' she proceeded, 'all night long. I began when
you went out, and read till you came home again. The strangest
story, Jonas! And true, the book says. I'll tell it you
to-morrow.'

'True, was it?' said Jonas, doggedly.

'So the book says.'

'Was there anything in it, about a man's being determined to
conquer his wife, break her spirit, bend her temper, crush all her
humours like so many nut-shells--kill her, for aught I know?' said
Jonas.

'No. Not a word,' she answered quickly.

'Oh!' he returned. 'That'll be a true story though, before
long; for all the book says nothing about it. It's a lying book, I
see. A fit book for a lying reader. But you're deaf. I forgot
that.'

There was another interval of silence; and the boy was stealing
away, when he heard her footstep on the floor, and stopped. She went
up to him, as it seemed, and spoke lovingly; saying that she would
defer to him in everything and would consult his wishes and obey
them, and they might be very happy if he would be gentle with her.
He answered with an imprecation, and--

Not with a blow? Yes. Stern truth against the base-souled
villain; with a blow.

No angry cries; no loud reproaches. Even her weeping and her
sobs were stifled by her clinging round him. She only said,
repeating it in agony of heart, how could he, could he, could he--and
lost utterance in tears.

Oh woman, God beloved in old Jerusalem! The best among us need
deal lightly with thy faults, if only for the punishment thy nature
will endure, in bearing heavy evidence against us, on the Day of
Judgment!