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Walter felt he must not dispute the command - a glance at his Uncle
would have determined him if he had felt otherwise - and disappeared to
execute it. He soon returned, out of breath, to say that Mr Dombey was not
there. It was Saturday, and he had gone to Brighton.
'I tell you what, Wal'r!' said the Captain, who seemed to have prepared
himself for this contingency in his absence. 'We'll go to Brighton. I'll
back you, my boy. I'll back you, Wal'r. We'll go to Brighton by the
afternoon's coach.'
If the application must be made to Mr Dombey at all, which was awful to
think of, Walter felt that he would rather prefer it alone and unassisted,
than backed by the personal influence of Captain Cuttle, to which he hardly
thought Mr Dombey would attach much weight. But as the Captain appeared to
be of quite another opinion, and was bent upon it, and as his friendship was
too zealous and serious to be trifled with by one so much younger than
himself, he forbore to hint the least objection. Cuttle, therefore, taking a
hurried leave of Solomon Gills, and returning the ready money, the
teaspoons, the sugar-tongs, and the silver watch, to his pocket - with a
view, as Walter thought, with horror, to making a gorgeous impression on Mr
Dombey - bore him off to the coach-office, with- out a minute's delay, and
repeatedly assured him, on the road, that he would stick by him to the last.
Containing the Sequel of the Midshipman's Disaster
Major Bagstock, after long and frequent observation of Paul, across
Princess's Place, through his double-barrelled opera-glass; and after
receiving many minute reports, daily, weekly, and monthly, on that subject,
from the native who kept himself in constant communication with Miss Tox's
maid for that purpose; came to the conclusion that Dombey, Sir, was a man to
be known, and that J. B. was the boy to make his acquaintance.
Miss Tox, however, maintaining her reserved behaviour, and frigidly
declining to understand the Major whenever he called (which he often did) on
any little fishing excursion connected with this project, the Major, in
spite of his constitutional toughness and slyness, was fain to leave the
accomplishment of his desire in some measure to chance, 'which,' as he was
used to observe with chuckles at his club, 'has been fifty to one in favour
of Joey B., Sir, ever since his elder brother died of Yellow Jack in the
West Indies.'
It was some time coming to his aid in the present instance, but it
befriended him at last. When the dark servant, with full particulars,
reported Miss Tox absent on Brighton service, the Major was suddenly touched
with affectionate reminiscences of his friend Bill Bitherstone of Bengal,
who had written to ask him, if he ever went that way, to bestow a call upon
his only son. But when the same dark servant reported Paul at Mrs Pipchin's,
and the Major, referring to the letter favoured by Master Bitherstone on his
arrival in England - to which he had never had the least idea of paying any
attention - saw the opening that presented itself, he was made so rabid by
the gout, with which he happened to be then laid up, that he threw a
footstool at the dark servant in return for his intelligence, and swore he
would be the death of the rascal before he had done with him: which the dark
servant was more than half disposed to believe.
At length the Major being released from his fit, went one Saturday
growling down to Brighton, with the native behind him; apostrophizing Miss
Tox all the way, and gloating over the prospect of carrying by storm the
distinguished friend to whom she attached so much mystery, and for whom she
had deserted him,
'Would you, Ma'am, would you!' said the Major, straining with
vindictiveness, and swelling every already swollen vein in his head. 'Would
you give Joey B. the go-by, Ma'am? Not yet, Ma'am, not yet! Damme, not yet,
Sir. Joe is awake, Ma'am. Bagstock is alive, Sir. J. B. knows a move or two,
Ma'am. Josh has his weather-eye open, Sir. You'll find him tough, Ma'am.
Tough, Sir, tough is Joseph. Tough, and de-vilish sly!'
And very tough indeed Master Bitherstone found him, when he took that
young gentleman out for a walk. But the Major, with his complexion like a
Stilton cheese, and his eyes like a prawn's, went roving about, perfectly
indifferent to Master Bitherstone's amusement, and dragging Master
Bitherstone along, while he looked about him high and low, for Mr Dombey and
his children.
In good time the Major, previously instructed by Mrs Pipchin, spied out
Paul and Florence, and bore down upon them; there being a stately gentleman
(Mr Dombey, doubtless) in their company. Charging with Master Bitherstone
into the very heart of the little squadron, it fell out, of course, that
Master Bitherstone spoke to his fellow-sufferers. Upon that the Major
stopped to notice and admire them; remembered with amazement that he had
seen and spoken to them at his friend Miss Tox's in Princess's Place; opined
that Paul was a devilish fine fellow, and his own little friend; inquired if
he remembered Joey B. the Major; and finally, with a sudden recollection of
the conventionalities of life, turned and apologised to Mr Dombey.
'But my little friend here, Sir,' said the Major, 'makes a boy of me
again: An old soldier, Sir - Major Bagstock, at your service - is not
ashamed to confess it.' Here the Major lifted his hat. 'Damme, Sir,' cried
the Major with sudden warmth, 'I envy you.' Then he recollected himself, and
added, 'Excuse my freedom.'
Mr Dombey begged he wouldn't mention it.
'An old campaigner, Sir,' said the Major, 'a smoke-dried, sun-burnt,
used-up, invalided old dog of a Major, Sir, was not afraid of being
condemned for his whim by a man like Mr Dombey. I have the honour of
addressing Mr Dombey, I believe?'
'I am the present unworthy representative of that name, Major,'
returned Mr Dombey.
'By G-, Sir!' said the Major, 'it's a great name. It's a name, Sir,'
said the Major firmly, as if he defied Mr Dombey to contradict him, and
would feel it his painful duty to bully him if he did, 'that is known and
honoured in the British possessions abroad. It is a name, Sir, that a man is
proud to recognise. There is nothing adulatory in Joseph Bagstock, Sir. His
Royal Highness the Duke of York observed on more than one occasion, "there
is no adulation in Joey. He is a plain old soldier is Joe. He is tough to a
fault is Joseph:" but it's a great name, Sir. By the Lord, it's a great
name!' said the Major, solemnly.
'You are good enough to rate it higher than it deserves, perhaps,
Major,' returned Mr Dombey.
'No, Sir,' said the Major, in a severe tone. No, Mr Dombey, let us
understand each other. That is not the Bagstock vein, Sir. You don't know
Joseph B. He is a blunt old blade is Josh. No flattery in him, Sir. Nothing
like it.'
Mr Dombey inclined his head, and said he believed him to be in earnest,
and that his high opinion was gratifying.
'My little friend here, Sir,' croaked the Major, looking as amiably as
he could, on Paul, 'will certify for Joseph Bagstock that he is a
thorough-going, down-right, plain-spoken, old Trump, Sir, and nothing more.
That boy, Sir,' said the Major in a lower tone, 'will live in history. That
boy, Sir, is not a common production. Take care of him, Mr Dombey.'
Mr Dombey seemed to intimate that he would endeavour to do so.
'Here is a boy here, Sir,' pursued the Major, confidentially, and
giving him a thrust with his cane. 'Son of Bitherstone of Bengal. Bill
Bitherstone formerly of ours. That boy's father and myself, Sir, were sworn
friends. Wherever you went, Sir, you heard of nothing but Bill Bitherstone
and Joe Bagstock. Am I blind to that boy's defects? By no means. He's a
fool, Sir.'
Mr Dombey glanced at the libelled Master Bitherstone, of whom he knew
at least as much as the Major did, and said, in quite a complacent manner,
'Really?'
'That is what he is, sir,' said the Major. 'He's a fool. Joe Bagstock
never minces matters. The son of my old friend Bill Bitherstone, of Bengal,
is a born fool, Sir.' Here the Major laughed till he was almost black. 'My
little friend is destined for a public school,' I' presume, Mr Dombey?' said
the Major when he had recovered.
'I am not quite decided,' returned Mr Dombey. 'I think not. He is
delicate.'
'If he's delicate, Sir,' said the Major, 'you are right. None but the
tough fellows could live through it, Sir, at Sandhurst. We put each other to
the torture there, Sir. We roasted the new fellows at a slow fire, and hung
'em out of a three pair of stairs window, with their heads downwards. Joseph
Bagstock, Sir, was held out of the window by the heels of his boots, for
thirteen minutes by the college clock'
The Major might have appealed to his countenance in corroboration of
this story. It certainly looked as if he had hung out a little too long.
'But it made us what we were, Sir,' said the Major, settling his shirt
frill. 'We were iron, Sir, and it forged us. Are you remaining here, Mr
Dombey?'
'I generally come down once a week, Major,' returned that gentleman. 'I
stay at the Bedford.'
'I shall have the honour of calling at the Bedford, Sir, if you'll
permit me,' said the Major. 'Joey B., Sir, is not in general a calling man,
but Mr Dombey's is not a common name. I am much indebted to my little
friend, Sir, for the honour of this introduction.'
Mr Dombey made a very gracious reply; and Major Bagstock, having patted
Paul on the head, and said of Florence that her eyes would play the Devil
with the youngsters before long - 'and the oldsters too, Sir, if you come to
that,' added the Major, chuckling very much - stirred up Master Bitherstone
with his walking-stick, and departed with that young gentleman, at a kind of
half-trot; rolling his head and coughing with great dignity, as he staggered
away, with his legs very wide asunder.
In fulfilment of his promise, the Major afterwards called on Mr Dombey;
and Mr Dombey, having referred to the army list, afterwards called on the
Major. Then the Major called at Mr Dombey's house in town; and came down
again, in the same coach as Mr Dombey. In short, Mr Dombey and the Major got
on uncommonly well together, and uncommonly fast: and Mr Dombey observed of
the Major, to his sister, that besides being quite a military man he was
really something more, as he had a very admirable idea of the importance of
things unconnected with his own profession.
At length Mr Dombey, bringing down Miss Tox and Mrs Chick to see the
children, and finding the Major again at Brighton, invited him to dinner at
the Bedford, and complimented Miss Tox highly, beforehand, on her neighbour
and acquaintance.
'My dearest Louisa,' said Miss Tox to Mrs Chick, when they were alone
together, on the morning of the appointed day, 'if I should seem at all
reserved to Major Bagstock, or under any constraint with him, promise me not
to notice it.'
'My dear Lucretia,' returned Mrs Chick, 'what mystery is involved in
this remarkable request? I must insist upon knowing.'
'Since you are resolved to extort a confession from me, Louisa,' said
Miss Tox instantly, 'I have no alternative but to confide to you that the
Major has been particular.'
'Particular!' repeated Mrs Chick.
'The Major has long been very particular indeed, my love, in his
attentions,' said Miss Tox, 'occasionally they have been so very marked,
that my position has been one of no common difficulty.'
'Is he in good circumstances?' inquired Mrs Chick.
'I have every reason to believe, my dear - indeed I may say I know,'
returned Miss Tox, 'that he is wealthy. He is truly military, and full of
anecdote. I have been informed that his valour, when he was in active
service, knew no bounds. I am told that he did all sorts of things in the
Peninsula, with every description of fire-arm; and in the East and West
Indies, my love, I really couldn't undertake to say what he did not do.'
'Very creditable to him indeed,' said Mrs Chick, 'extremely so; and you
have given him no encouragement, my dear?'
'If I were to say, Louisa,' replied Miss Tox, with every demonstration
of making an effort that rent her soul, 'that I never encouraged Major
Bagstock slightly, I should not do justice to the friendship which exists
between you and me. It is, perhaps, hardly in the nature of woman to receive
such attentions as the Major once lavished upon myself without betraying
some sense of obligation. But that is past - long past. Between the Major
and me there is now a yawning chasm, and I will not feign to give
encouragement, Louisa, where I cannot give my heart. My affections,' said
Miss Tox - 'but, Louisa, this is madness!' and departed from the room.
All this Mrs Chick communicated to her brother before dinner: and it by
no means indisposed Mr Dombey to receive the Major with unwonted cordiality.
The Major, for his part, was in a state of plethoric satisfaction that knew
no bounds: and he coughed, and choked, and chuckled, and gasped, and
swelled, until the waiters seemed positively afraid of him.
'Your family monopolises Joe's light, Sir,' said the Major, when he had
saluted Miss Tox. 'Joe lives in darkness. Princess's Place is changed into
Kamschatka in the winter time. There is no ray of sun, Sir, for Joey B.,
now.'
'Miss Tox is good enough to take a great deal of interest in Paul,
Major,' returned Mr Dombey on behalf of that blushing virgin.
'Damme Sir,' said the Major, 'I'm jealous of my little friend. I'm
pining away Sir. The Bagstock breed is degenerating in the forsaken person
of old Joe.' And the Major, becoming bluer and bluer and puffing his cheeks
further and further over the stiff ridge of his tight cravat, stared at Miss
Tox, until his eyes seemed as if he were at that moment being overdone
before the slow fire at the military college.
Notwithstanding the palpitation of the heart which these allusions
occasioned her, they were anything but disagreeable to Miss Tox, as they
enabled her to be extremely interesting, and to manifest an occasional
incoherence and distraction which she was not at all unwilling to display.
The Major gave her abundant opportunities of exhibiting this emotion: being
profuse in his complaints, at dinner, of her desertion of him and Princess's
Place: and as he appeared to derive great enjoyment from making them, they
all got on very well.
None the worse on account of the Major taking charge of the whole
conversation, and showing as great an appetite in that respect as in regard
of the various dainties on the table, among which he may be almost said to
have wallowed: greatly to the aggravation of his inflammatory tendencies. Mr
Dombey's habitual silence and reserve yielding readily to this usurpation,
the Major felt that he was coming out and shining: and in the flow of
spirits thus engendered, rang such an infinite number of new changes on his
own name that he quite astonished himself. In a word, they were all very
well pleased. The Major was considered to possess an inexhaustible fund of
conversation; and when he took a late farewell, after a long rubber, Mr
Dombey again complimented the blushing Miss Tox on her neighbour and
acquaintance.
But all the way home to his own hotel, the Major incessantly said to
himself, and of himself, 'Sly, Sir - sly, Sir - de-vil-ish sly!' And when he
got there, sat down in a chair, and fell into a silent fit of laughter, with
which he was sometimes seized, and which was always particularly awful. It
held him so long on this occasion that the dark servant, who stood watching
him at a distance, but dared not for his life approach, twice or thrice gave
him over for lost. His whole form, but especially his face and head, dilated
beyond all former experience; and presented to the dark man's view, nothing
but a heaving mass of indigo. At length he burst into a violent paroxysm of
coughing, and when that was a little better burst into such ejaculations as
the following:
'Would you, Ma'am, would you? Mrs Dombey, eh, Ma'am? I think not,
Ma'am. Not while Joe B. can put a spoke in your wheel, Ma'am. J. B.'s even
with you now, Ma'am. He isn't altogether bowled out, yet, Sir, isn't
Bagstock. She's deep, Sir, deep, but Josh is deeper. Wide awake is old Joe -
broad awake, and staring, Sir!' There was no doubt of this last assertion
being true, and to a very fearful extent; as it continued to be during the
greater part of that night, which the Major chiefly passed in similar
exclamations, diversified with fits of coughing and choking that startled
the whole house.
It was on the day after this occasion (being Sunday) when, as Mr
Dombey, Mrs Chick, and Miss Tox were sitting at breakfast, still eulogising
the Major, Florence came running in: her face suffused with a bright colour,
and her eyes sparkling joyfully: and cried,
'Papa! Papa! Here's Walter! and he won't come in.'
'Who?' cried Mr Dombey. 'What does she mean? What is this?'
'Walter, Papa!' said Florence timidly; sensible of having approached
the presence with too much familiarity. 'Who found me when I was lost.'
'Does she mean young Gay, Louisa?' inquired Mr Dombey, knitting his
brows. 'Really, this child's manners have become very boisterous. She cannot
mean young Gay, I think. See what it is, will you?'
Mrs Chick hurried into the passage, and returned with the information
that it was young Gay, accompanied by a very strange-looking person; and
that young Gay said he would not take the liberty of coming in, hearing Mr
Dombey was at breakfast, but would wait until Mr Dombey should signify that
he might approach.
'Tell the boy to come in now,' said Mr Dombey. 'Now, Gay, what is the
matter? Who sent you down here? Was there nobody else to come?'
'I beg your pardon, Sir,' returned Walter. 'I have not been sent. I
have been so bold as to come on my own account, which I hope you'll pardon
when I mention the cause.
But Mr Dombey, without attending to what he said, was looking
impatiently on either side of him (as if he were a pillar in his way) at
some object behind.
'What's that?' said Mr Dombey. 'Who is that? I think you have made some
mistake in the door, Sir.'
'Oh, I'm very sorry to intrude with anyone, Sir,' cried Walter,
hastily: 'but this is - this is Captain Cuttle, Sir.'
'Wal'r, my lad,' observed the Captain in a deep voice: 'stand by!'
At the same time the Captain, coming a little further in, brought out
his wide suit of blue, his conspicuous shirt-collar, and his knobby nose in
full relief, and stood bowing to Mr Dombey, and waving his hook politely to
the ladies, with the hard glazed hat in his one hand, and a red equator
round his head which it had newly imprinted there.
Mr Dombey regarded this phenomenon with amazement and indignation, and
seemed by his looks to appeal to Mrs Chick and Miss Tox against it. Little
Paul, who had come in after Florence, backed towards Miss Tox as the Captain
waved his book, and stood on the defensive.
'Now, Gay,' said Mr Dombey. 'What have you got to say to me?'
Again the Captain observed, as a general opening of the conversation
that could not fail to propitiate all parties, 'Wal'r, standby!'
'I am afraid, Sir,' began Walter, trembling, and looking down at the
ground, 'that I take a very great liberty in coming - indeed, I am sure I
do. I should hardly have had the courage to ask to see you, Sir, even after
coming down, I am afraid, if I had not overtaken Miss Dombey, and - '
'Well!' said Mr Dombey, following his eyes as he glanced at the
attentive Florence, and frowning unconsciously as she encouraged him with a
smile. 'Go on, if you please.'
'Ay, ay,' observed the Captain, considering it incumbent on him, as a
point of good breeding, to support Mr Dombey. 'Well said! Go on, Wal'r.'
Captain Cuttle ought to have been withered by the look which Mr Dombey
bestowed upon him in acknowledgment of his patronage. But quite innocent of
this, he closed one eye in reply, and gave Mr Dombey to understand, by
certain significant motions of his hook, that Walter was a little bashful at
first, and might be expected to come out shortly.
'It is entirely a private and personal matter, that has brought me
here, Sir,' continued Walter, faltering, 'and Captain Cuttle
'Here!' interposed the Captain, as an assurance that he was at hand,
and might be relied upon.
'Who is a very old friend of my poor Uncle's, and a most excellent man,
Sir,' pursued Walter, raising his eyes with a look of entreaty in the
Captain's behalf, 'was so good as to offer to come with me, which I could
hardly refuse.'
'No, no, no;' observed the Captain complacently. 'Of course not. No
call for refusing. Go on, Wal'r.'
'And therefore, Sir,' said Walter, venturing to meet Mr Dombey's eye,
and proceeding with better courage in the very desperation of the case, now
that there was no avoiding it, 'therefore I have come, with him, Sir, to say
that my poor old Uncle is in very great affliction and distress. That,
through the gradual loss of his business, and not being able to make a
payment, the apprehension of which has weighed very heavily upon his mind,
months and months, as indeed I know, Sir, he has an execution in his house,
and is in danger of losing all he has, and breaking his heart. And that if
you would, in your kindness, and in your old knowledge of him as a
respectable man, do anything to help him out of his difficulty, Sir, we
never could thank you enough for it.'
Walter's eyes filled with tears as he spoke; and so did those of
Florence. Her father saw them glistening, though he appeared to look at
Walter only.
'It is a very large sum, Sir,' said Walter. 'More than three hundred
pounds. My Uncle is quite beaten down by his misfortune, it lies so heavy on
him; and is quite unable to do anything for his own relief. He doesn't even
know yet, that I have come to speak to you. You would wish me to say, Sir,'
added Walter, after a moment's hesitation, 'exactly what it is I want. I
really don't know, Sir. There is my Uncle's stock, on which I believe I may
say, confidently, there are no other demands, and there is Captain Cuttle,
who would wish to be security too. I - I hardly like to mention,' said
Walter, 'such earnings as mine; but if you would allow them - accumulate -
payment - advance - Uncle - frugal, honourable, old man.' Walter trailed
off, through these broken sentences, into silence: and stood with downcast
head, before his employer.
Considering this a favourable moment for the display of the valuables,
Captain Cuttle advanced to the table; and clearing a space among the
breakfast-cups at Mr Dombey's elbow, produced the silver watch, the ready
money, the teaspoons, and the sugar-tongs; and piling them up into a heap
that they might look as precious as possible, delivered himself of these
words:
'Half a loaf's better than no bread, and the same remark holds good
with crumbs. There's a few. Annuity of one hundred pound premium also ready
to be made over. If there is a man chock full of science in the world, it's
old Sol Gills. If there is a lad of promise - one flowing,' added the
Captain, in one of his happy quotations, 'with milk and honey - it's his
nevy!'
The Captain then withdrew to his former place, where he stood arranging
his scattered locks with the air of a man who had given the finishing touch
to a difficult performance.
When Walter ceased to speak, Mr Dombey's eyes were attracted to little
Paul, who, seeing his sister hanging down her head and silently weeping in
her commiseration for the distress she had heard described, went over to
her, and tried to comfort her: looking at Walter and his father as he did
so, with a very expressive face. After the momentary distraction of Captain
Cuttle's address, which he regarded with lofty indifference, Mr Dombey again
turned his eyes upon his son, and sat steadily regarding the child, for some
moments, in silence.
'What was this debt contracted for?' asked Mr Dombey, at length. 'Who
is the creditor?'
'He don't know,' replied the Captain, putting his hand on Walter's
shoulder. 'I do. It came of helping a man that's dead now, and that's cost
my friend Gills many a hundred pound already. More particulars in private,
if agreeable.'
'People who have enough to do to hold their own way,' said Mr Dombey,
unobservant of the Captain's mysterious signs behind Walter, and still
looking at his son, 'had better be content with their own obligations and
difficulties, and not increase them by engaging for other men. It is an act
of dishonesty and presumption, too,' said Mr Dombey, sternly; 'great
presumption; for the wealthy could do no more. Paul, come here!'
The child obeyed: and Mr Dombey took him on his knee.
'If you had money now - ' said Mr Dombey. 'Look at me!'
Paul, whose eyes had wandered to his sister, and to Walter, looked his
father in the face.
'If you had money now,' said Mr Dombey; 'as much money as young Gay has
talked about; what would you do?'
'Give it to his old Uncle,' returned Paul.
'Lend it to his old Uncle, eh?' retorted Mr Dombey. 'Well! When you are
old enough, you know, you will share my money, and we shall use it
together.'
'Dombey and Son,' interrupted Paul, who had been tutored early in the
phrase.
'Dombey and Son,' repeated his father. 'Would you like to begin to be
Dombey and Son, now, and lend this money to young Gay's Uncle?'
'Oh! if you please, Papa!' said Paul: 'and so would Florence.'
'Girls,' said Mr Dombey, 'have nothing to do with Dombey and Son. Would
you like it?'
'Yes, Papa, yes!'
'Then you shall do it,' returned his father. 'And you see, Paul,' he
added, dropping his voice, 'how powerful money is, and how anxious people
are to get it. Young Gay comes all this way to beg for money, and you, who
are so grand and great, having got it, are going to let him have it, as a
great favour and obligation.'
Paul turned up the old face for a moment, in which there was a sharp
understanding of the reference conveyed in these words: but it was a young
and childish face immediately afterwards, when he slipped down from his
father's knee, and ran to tell Florence not to cry any more, for he was
going to let young Gay have the money.
Mr Dombey then turned to a side-table, and wrote a note and sealed it.
During the interval, Paul and Florence whispered to Walter, and Captain
Cuttle beamed on the three, with such aspiring and ineffably presumptuous
thoughts as Mr Dombey never could have believed in. The note being finished,
Mr Dombey turned round to his former place, and held it out to Walter.
'Give that,' he said, 'the first thing to-morrow morning, to Mr Carker.
He will immediately take care that one of my people releases your Uncle from
his present position, by paying the amount at issue; and that such
arrangements are made for its repayment as may be consistent with your
Uncle's circumstances. You will consider that this is done for you by Master
Paul.'
Walter, in the emotion of holding in his hand the means of releasing
his good Uncle from his trouble, would have endeavoured to express something
of his gratitude and joy. But Mr Dombey stopped him short.
'You will consider that it is done,' he repeated, 'by Master Paul. I
have explained that to him, and he understands it. I wish no more to be
said.'
As he motioned towards the door, Walter could only bow his head and
retire. Miss Tox, seeing that the Captain appeared about to do the same,
interposed.
'My dear Sir,' she said, addressing Mr Dombey, at whose munificence
both she and Mrs Chick were shedding tears copiously; 'I think you have
overlooked something. Pardon me, Mr Dombey, I think, in the nobility of your
character, and its exalted scope, you have omitted a matter of detail.'
'Indeed, Miss Tox!' said Mr Dombey.
'The gentleman with the - Instrument,' pursued Miss Tox, glancing at
Captain Cuttle, 'has left upon the table, at your elbow - '
'Good Heaven!' said Mr Dombey, sweeping the Captain's property from
him, as if it were so much crumb indeed. 'Take these things away. I am
obliged to you, Miss Tox; it is like your usual discretion. Have the
goodness to take these things away, Sir!'
Captain Cuttle felt he had no alternative but to comply. But he was so
much struck by the magnanimity of Mr Dombey, in refusing treasures lying
heaped up to his hand, that when he had deposited the teaspoons and
sugar-tongs in one pocket, and the ready money in another, and had lowered
the great watch down slowly into its proper vault, he could not refrain from
seizing that gentleman's right hand in his own solitary left, and while he
held it open with his powerful fingers, bringing the hook down upon its palm
in a transport of admiration. At this touch of warm feeling and cold iron,
Mr Dombey shivered all over.
Captain Cuttle then kissed his hook to the ladies several times, with
great elegance and gallantry; and having taken a particular leave of Paul
and Florence, accompanied Walter out of the room. Florence was running after
them in the earnestness of her heart, to send some message to old Sol, when
Mr Dombey called her back, and bade her stay where she was.
'Will you never be a Dombey, my dear child!' said Mrs Chick, with
pathetic reproachfulness.
'Dear aunt,' said Florence. 'Don't be angry with me. I am so thankful
to Papa!'
She would have run and thrown her arms about his neck if she had dared;
but as she did not dare, she glanced with thankful eyes towards him, as he
sat musing; sometimes bestowing an uneasy glance on her, but, for the most
part, watching Paul, who walked about the room with the new-blown dignity of
having let young Gay have the money.
And young Gay - Walter- what of him?
He was overjoyed to purge the old man's hearth from bailiffs and
brokers, and to hurry back to his Uncle with the good tidings. He was
overjoyed to have it all arranged and settled next day before noon; and to
sit down at evening in the little back parlour with old Sol and Captain
Cuttle; and to see the Instrument-maker already reviving, and hopeful for
the future, and feeling that the wooden Midshipman was his own again. But
without the least impeachment of his gratitude to Mr Dombey, it must be
confessed that Walter was humbled and cast down. It is when our budding
hopes are nipped beyond recovery by some rough wind, that we are the most
disposed to picture to ourselves what flowers they might have borne, if they
had flourished; and now, when Walter found himself cut off from that great
Dombey height, by the depth of a new and terrible tumble, and felt that all
his old wild fancies had been scattered to the winds in the fall, he began
to suspect that they might have led him on to harmless visions of aspiring
to Florence in the remote distance of time.
The Captain viewed the subject in quite a different light. He appeared
to entertain a belief that the interview at which he had assisted was so
very satisfactory and encouraging, as to be only a step or two removed from
a regular betrothal of Florence to Walter; and that the late transaction had
immensely forwarded, if not thoroughly established, the Whittingtonian
hopes. Stimulated by this conviction, and by the improvement in the spirits
of his old friend, and by his own consequent gaiety, he even attempted, in
favouring them with the ballad of 'Lovely Peg' for the third time in one
evening, to make an extemporaneous substitution of the name 'Florence;' but
finding this difficult, on account of the word Peg invariably rhyming to leg
(in which personal beauty the original was described as having excelled all
competitors), he hit upon the happy thought of changing it to Fle-e-eg;
which he accordingly did, with an archness almost supernatural, and a voice
quite vociferous, notwithstanding that the time was close at band when he
must seek the abode of the dreadful Mrs MacStinger.
That same evening the Major was diffuse at his club, on the subject of
his friend Dombey in the City. 'Damme, Sir,' said the Major, 'he's a prince,
is my friend Dombey in the City. I tell you what, Sir. If you had a few more
men among you like old Joe Bagstock and my friend Dombey in the City, Sir,
you'd do!'
Paul's Introduction to a New Scene
Mrs Pipchin's constitution was made of such hard metal, in spite of its
liability to the fleshly weaknesses of standing in need of repose after
chops, and of requiring to be coaxed to sleep by the soporific agency of
sweet-breads, that it utterly set at naught the predictions of Mrs Wickam,
and showed no symptoms of decline. Yet, as Paul's rapt interest in the old
lady continued unbated, Mrs Wickam would not budge an inch from the position
she had taken up. Fortifying and entrenching herself on the strong ground of
her Uncle's Betsey Jane, she advised Miss Berry, as a friend, to prepare
herself for the worst; and forewarned her that her aunt might, at any time,
be expected to go off suddenly, like a powder-mill.
'I hope, Miss Berry,' Mrs Wickam would observe, 'that you'll come into
whatever little property there may be to leave. You deserve it, I am sure,
for yours is a trying life. Though there don't seem much worth coming into -
you'll excuse my being so open - in this dismal den.'
Poor Berry took it all in good part, and drudged and slaved away as
usual; perfectly convinced that Mrs Pipchin was one of the most meritorious
persons in the world, and making every day innumerable sacrifices of herself
upon the altar of that noble old woman. But all these immolations of Berry
were somehow carried to the credit of Mrs Pipchin by Mrs Pipchin's friends
and admirers; and were made to harmonise with, and carry out, that
melancholy fact of the deceased Mr Pipchin having broken his heart in the
Peruvian mines.
For example, there was an honest grocer and general dealer in the
retail line of business, between whom and Mrs Pipchin there was a small
memorandum book, with a greasy red cover, perpetually in question, and
concerning which divers secret councils and conferences were continually
being held between the parties to that register, on the mat in the passage,
and with closed doors in the parlour. Nor were there wanting dark hints from
Master Bitherstone (whose temper had been made revengeful by the solar heats
of India acting on his blood), of balances unsettled, and of a failure, on
one occasion within his memory, in the supply of moist sugar at tea-time.
This grocer being a bachelor and not a man who looked upon the surface for
beauty, had once made honourable offers for the hand of Berry, which Mrs
Pipchin had, with contumely and scorn, rejected. Everybody said how laudable
this was in Mrs Pipchin, relict of a man who had died of the Peruvian mines;
and what a staunch, high, independent spirit the old lady had. But nobody
said anything about poor Berry, who cried for six weeks (being soundly rated
by her good aunt all the time), and lapsed into a state of hopeless
spinsterhood.
'Berry's very fond of you, ain't she?' Paul once asked Mrs Pipchin when
they were sitting by the fire with the cat.
'Yes,' said Mrs Pipchin.
'Why?' asked Paul.
'Why!' returned the disconcerted old lady. 'How can you ask such
things, Sir! why are you fond of your sister Florence?'
'Because she's very good,' said Paul. 'There's nobody like Florence.'
'Well!' retorted Mrs Pipchin, shortly, 'and there's nobody like me, I
suppose.'
'Ain't there really though?' asked Paul, leaning forward in his chair,
and looking at her very hard.
'No,' said the old lady.
'I am glad of that,' observed Paul, rubbing his hands thoughtfully.
'That's a very good thing.'
Mrs Pipchin didn't dare to ask him why, lest she should receive some
perfectly annihilating answer. But as a compensation to her wounded
feelings, she harassed Master Bitherstone to that extent until bed-time,
that he began that very night to make arrangements for an overland return to
India, by secreting from his supper a quarter of a round of bread and a
fragment of moist Dutch cheese, as the beginning of a stock of provision to
support him on the voyage.
Mrs Pipchin had kept watch and ward over little Paul and his sister for
nearly twelve months. They had been home twice, but only for a few days; and
had been constant in their weekly visits to Mr Dombey at the hotel. By
little and little Paul had grown stronger, and had become able to dispense
with his carriage; though he still looked thin and delicate; and still
remained the same old, quiet, dreamy child that he had been when first
consigned to Mrs Pipchin's care. One Saturday afternoon, at dusk, great
consternation was occasioned in the Castle by the unlooked-for announcement
of Mr Dombey as a visitor to Mrs Pipchin. The population of the parlour was
immediately swept upstairs as on the wings of a whirlwind, and after much
slamming of bedroom doors, and trampling overhead, and some knocking about
of Master Bitherstone by Mrs Pipchin, as a relief to the perturbation of her
spirits, the black bombazeen garments of the worthy old lady darkened the
audience-chamber where Mr Dombey was contemplating the vacant arm-chair of
his son and heir.
'Mrs Pipchin,' said Mr Dombey, 'How do you do?'
'Thank you, Sir,' said Mrs Pipchin, 'I am pretty well, considering.'
Mrs Pipchin always used that form of words. It meant, considering her
virtues, sacrifices, and so forth.
'I can't expect, Sir, to be very well,' said Mrs Pipchin, taking a
chair and fetching her breath; 'but such health as I have, I am grateful
for.'
Mr Dombey inclined his head with the satisfied air of a patron, who
felt that this was the sort of thing for which he paid so much a quarter.
After a moment's silence he went on to say:
'Mrs Pipchin, I have taken the liberty of calling, to consult you in
reference to my son. I have had it in my mind to do so for some time past;
but have deferred it from time to time, in order that his health might be
thoroughly re-established. You have no misgivings on that subject, Mrs
Pipchin?'
'Brighton has proved very beneficial, Sir,' returned Mrs Pipchin. 'Very
beneficial, indeed.'
'I purpose,' said Mr Dombey, 'his remaining at Brighton.'
Mrs Pipchin rubbed her hands, and bent her grey eyes on the fire.
'But,' pursued Mr Dombey, stretching out his forefinger, 'but possibly
that he should now make a change, and lead a different kind of life here. In
short, Mrs Pipchin, that is the object of my visit. My son is getting on,
Mrs Pipchin. Really, he is getting on.'
There was something melancholy in the triumphant air with which Mr
Dombey said this. It showed how long Paul's childish life had been to him,
and how his hopes were set upon a later stage of his existence. Pity may
appear a strange word to connect with anyone so haughty and so cold, and yet
he seemed a worthy subject for it at that moment.
'Six years old!' said Mr Dombey, settling his neckcloth - perhaps to
hide an irrepressible smile that rather seemed to strike upon the surface of
his face and glance away, as finding no resting-place, than to play there
for an instant. 'Dear me, six will be changed to sixteen, before we have
time to look about us.'
'Ten years,' croaked the unsympathetic Pipchin, with a frosty
glistening of her hard grey eye, and a dreary shaking of her bent head, 'is
a long time.'
'It depends on circumstances, returned Mr Dombey; 'at all events, Mrs
Pipchin, my son is six years old, and there is no doubt, I fear, that in his
studies he is behind many children of his age - or his youth,' said Mr
Dombey, quickly answering what he mistrusted was a shrewd twinkle of the
frosty eye, 'his youth is a more appropriate expression. Now, Mrs Pipchin,
instead of being behind his peers, my son ought to be before them; far
before them. There is an eminence ready for him to mount upon. There is
nothing of chance or doubt in the course before my son. His way in life was
clear and prepared, and marked out before he existed. The education of such
a young gentleman must not be delayed. It must not be left imperfect. It
must be very steadily and seriously undertaken, Mrs Pipchin.'
'Well, Sir,' said Mrs Pipchin, 'I can say nothing to the contrary.'
'I was quite sure, Mrs Pipchin,' returned Mr Dombey, approvingly, 'that
a person of your good sense could not, and would not.'
'There is a great deal of nonsense - and worse - talked about young
people not being pressed too hard at first, and being tempted on, and all
the rest of it, Sir,' said Mrs Pipchin, impatiently rubbing her hooked nose.
'It never was thought of in my time, and it has no business to be thought of
now. My opinion is "keep 'em at it".'
'My good madam,' returned Mr Dombey, 'you have not acquired your
reputation undeservedly; and I beg you to believe, Mrs Pipchin, that I am
more than satisfied with your excellent system of management, and shall have
the greatest pleasure in commending it whenever my poor commendation - ' Mr
Dombey's loftiness when he affected to disparage his own importance, passed
all bounds - 'can be of any service. I have been thinking of Doctor
Blimber's, Mrs Pipchin.'
'My neighbour, Sir?' said Mrs Pipchin. 'I believe the Doctor's is an
excellent establishment. I've heard that it's very strictly conducted, and
there is nothing but learning going on from morning to night.'
'And it's very expensive,' added Mr Dombey.
'And it's very expensive, Sir,' returned Mrs Pipchin, catching at the
fact, as if in omitting that, she had omitted one of its leading merits.
'I have had some communication with the Doctor, Mrs Pipchin,' said Mr
Dombey, hitching his chair anxiously a little nearer to the fire, 'and he
does not consider Paul at all too young for his purpose. He mentioned
several instances of boys in Greek at about the same age. If I have any
little uneasiness in my own mind, Mrs Pipchin, on the subject of this
change, it is not on that head. My son not having known a mother has
gradually concentrated much - too much - of his childish affection on his
sister. Whether their separation - ' Mr Dombey said no more, but sat silent.
'Hoity-toity!' exclaimed Mrs Pipchin, shaking out her black bombazeen
skirts, and plucking up all the ogress within her. 'If she don't like it, Mr
Dombey, she must be taught to lump it.' The good lady apologised immediately
afterwards for using so common a figure of speech, but said (and truly) that
that was the way she reasoned with 'em.
Mr Dombey waited until Mrs Pipchin had done bridling and shaking her
head, and frowning down a legion of Bitherstones and Pankeys; and then said
quietly, but correctively, 'He, my good madam, he.'
Mrs Pipchin's system would have applied very much the same mode of cure
to any uneasiness on the part of Paul, too; but as the hard grey eye was
sharp enough to see that the recipe, however Mr Dombey might admit its
efficacy in the case of the daughter, was not a sovereign remedy for the
son, she argued the point; and contended that change, and new society, and
the different form of life he would lead at Doctor Blimber's, and the
studies he would have to master, would very soon prove sufficient
alienations. As this chimed in with Mr Dombey's own hope and belief, it gave
that gentleman a still higher opinion of Mrs Pipchin's understanding; and as
Mrs Pipchin, at the same time, bewailed the loss of her dear little friend
(which was not an overwhelming shock to her, as she had long expected it,
and had not looked, in the beginning, for his remaining with her longer than
three months), he formed an equally good opinion of Mrs Pipchin's
disinterestedness. It was plain that he had given the subject anxious
consideration, for he had formed a plan, which he announced to the ogress,
of sending Paul to the Doctor's as a weekly boarder for the first half year,
during which time Florence would remain at the Castle, that she might
receive her brother there, on Saturdays. This would wean him by degrees, Mr
Dombey said; possibly with a recollection of his not having been weaned by
would have determined him if he had felt otherwise - and disappeared to
execute it. He soon returned, out of breath, to say that Mr Dombey was not
there. It was Saturday, and he had gone to Brighton.
'I tell you what, Wal'r!' said the Captain, who seemed to have prepared
himself for this contingency in his absence. 'We'll go to Brighton. I'll
back you, my boy. I'll back you, Wal'r. We'll go to Brighton by the
afternoon's coach.'
If the application must be made to Mr Dombey at all, which was awful to
think of, Walter felt that he would rather prefer it alone and unassisted,
than backed by the personal influence of Captain Cuttle, to which he hardly
thought Mr Dombey would attach much weight. But as the Captain appeared to
be of quite another opinion, and was bent upon it, and as his friendship was
too zealous and serious to be trifled with by one so much younger than
himself, he forbore to hint the least objection. Cuttle, therefore, taking a
hurried leave of Solomon Gills, and returning the ready money, the
teaspoons, the sugar-tongs, and the silver watch, to his pocket - with a
view, as Walter thought, with horror, to making a gorgeous impression on Mr
Dombey - bore him off to the coach-office, with- out a minute's delay, and
repeatedly assured him, on the road, that he would stick by him to the last.
Containing the Sequel of the Midshipman's Disaster
Major Bagstock, after long and frequent observation of Paul, across
Princess's Place, through his double-barrelled opera-glass; and after
receiving many minute reports, daily, weekly, and monthly, on that subject,
from the native who kept himself in constant communication with Miss Tox's
maid for that purpose; came to the conclusion that Dombey, Sir, was a man to
be known, and that J. B. was the boy to make his acquaintance.
Miss Tox, however, maintaining her reserved behaviour, and frigidly
declining to understand the Major whenever he called (which he often did) on
any little fishing excursion connected with this project, the Major, in
spite of his constitutional toughness and slyness, was fain to leave the
accomplishment of his desire in some measure to chance, 'which,' as he was
used to observe with chuckles at his club, 'has been fifty to one in favour
of Joey B., Sir, ever since his elder brother died of Yellow Jack in the
West Indies.'
It was some time coming to his aid in the present instance, but it
befriended him at last. When the dark servant, with full particulars,
reported Miss Tox absent on Brighton service, the Major was suddenly touched
with affectionate reminiscences of his friend Bill Bitherstone of Bengal,
who had written to ask him, if he ever went that way, to bestow a call upon
his only son. But when the same dark servant reported Paul at Mrs Pipchin's,
and the Major, referring to the letter favoured by Master Bitherstone on his
arrival in England - to which he had never had the least idea of paying any
attention - saw the opening that presented itself, he was made so rabid by
the gout, with which he happened to be then laid up, that he threw a
footstool at the dark servant in return for his intelligence, and swore he
would be the death of the rascal before he had done with him: which the dark
servant was more than half disposed to believe.
At length the Major being released from his fit, went one Saturday
growling down to Brighton, with the native behind him; apostrophizing Miss
Tox all the way, and gloating over the prospect of carrying by storm the
distinguished friend to whom she attached so much mystery, and for whom she
had deserted him,
'Would you, Ma'am, would you!' said the Major, straining with
vindictiveness, and swelling every already swollen vein in his head. 'Would
you give Joey B. the go-by, Ma'am? Not yet, Ma'am, not yet! Damme, not yet,
Sir. Joe is awake, Ma'am. Bagstock is alive, Sir. J. B. knows a move or two,
Ma'am. Josh has his weather-eye open, Sir. You'll find him tough, Ma'am.
Tough, Sir, tough is Joseph. Tough, and de-vilish sly!'
And very tough indeed Master Bitherstone found him, when he took that
young gentleman out for a walk. But the Major, with his complexion like a
Stilton cheese, and his eyes like a prawn's, went roving about, perfectly
indifferent to Master Bitherstone's amusement, and dragging Master
Bitherstone along, while he looked about him high and low, for Mr Dombey and
his children.
In good time the Major, previously instructed by Mrs Pipchin, spied out
Paul and Florence, and bore down upon them; there being a stately gentleman
(Mr Dombey, doubtless) in their company. Charging with Master Bitherstone
into the very heart of the little squadron, it fell out, of course, that
Master Bitherstone spoke to his fellow-sufferers. Upon that the Major
stopped to notice and admire them; remembered with amazement that he had
seen and spoken to them at his friend Miss Tox's in Princess's Place; opined
that Paul was a devilish fine fellow, and his own little friend; inquired if
he remembered Joey B. the Major; and finally, with a sudden recollection of
the conventionalities of life, turned and apologised to Mr Dombey.
'But my little friend here, Sir,' said the Major, 'makes a boy of me
again: An old soldier, Sir - Major Bagstock, at your service - is not
ashamed to confess it.' Here the Major lifted his hat. 'Damme, Sir,' cried
the Major with sudden warmth, 'I envy you.' Then he recollected himself, and
added, 'Excuse my freedom.'
Mr Dombey begged he wouldn't mention it.
'An old campaigner, Sir,' said the Major, 'a smoke-dried, sun-burnt,
used-up, invalided old dog of a Major, Sir, was not afraid of being
condemned for his whim by a man like Mr Dombey. I have the honour of
addressing Mr Dombey, I believe?'
'I am the present unworthy representative of that name, Major,'
returned Mr Dombey.
'By G-, Sir!' said the Major, 'it's a great name. It's a name, Sir,'
said the Major firmly, as if he defied Mr Dombey to contradict him, and
would feel it his painful duty to bully him if he did, 'that is known and
honoured in the British possessions abroad. It is a name, Sir, that a man is
proud to recognise. There is nothing adulatory in Joseph Bagstock, Sir. His
Royal Highness the Duke of York observed on more than one occasion, "there
is no adulation in Joey. He is a plain old soldier is Joe. He is tough to a
fault is Joseph:" but it's a great name, Sir. By the Lord, it's a great
name!' said the Major, solemnly.
'You are good enough to rate it higher than it deserves, perhaps,
Major,' returned Mr Dombey.
'No, Sir,' said the Major, in a severe tone. No, Mr Dombey, let us
understand each other. That is not the Bagstock vein, Sir. You don't know
Joseph B. He is a blunt old blade is Josh. No flattery in him, Sir. Nothing
like it.'
Mr Dombey inclined his head, and said he believed him to be in earnest,
and that his high opinion was gratifying.
'My little friend here, Sir,' croaked the Major, looking as amiably as
he could, on Paul, 'will certify for Joseph Bagstock that he is a
thorough-going, down-right, plain-spoken, old Trump, Sir, and nothing more.
That boy, Sir,' said the Major in a lower tone, 'will live in history. That
boy, Sir, is not a common production. Take care of him, Mr Dombey.'
Mr Dombey seemed to intimate that he would endeavour to do so.
'Here is a boy here, Sir,' pursued the Major, confidentially, and
giving him a thrust with his cane. 'Son of Bitherstone of Bengal. Bill
Bitherstone formerly of ours. That boy's father and myself, Sir, were sworn
friends. Wherever you went, Sir, you heard of nothing but Bill Bitherstone
and Joe Bagstock. Am I blind to that boy's defects? By no means. He's a
fool, Sir.'
Mr Dombey glanced at the libelled Master Bitherstone, of whom he knew
at least as much as the Major did, and said, in quite a complacent manner,
'Really?'
'That is what he is, sir,' said the Major. 'He's a fool. Joe Bagstock
never minces matters. The son of my old friend Bill Bitherstone, of Bengal,
is a born fool, Sir.' Here the Major laughed till he was almost black. 'My
little friend is destined for a public school,' I' presume, Mr Dombey?' said
the Major when he had recovered.
'I am not quite decided,' returned Mr Dombey. 'I think not. He is
delicate.'
'If he's delicate, Sir,' said the Major, 'you are right. None but the
tough fellows could live through it, Sir, at Sandhurst. We put each other to
the torture there, Sir. We roasted the new fellows at a slow fire, and hung
'em out of a three pair of stairs window, with their heads downwards. Joseph
Bagstock, Sir, was held out of the window by the heels of his boots, for
thirteen minutes by the college clock'
The Major might have appealed to his countenance in corroboration of
this story. It certainly looked as if he had hung out a little too long.
'But it made us what we were, Sir,' said the Major, settling his shirt
frill. 'We were iron, Sir, and it forged us. Are you remaining here, Mr
Dombey?'
'I generally come down once a week, Major,' returned that gentleman. 'I
stay at the Bedford.'
'I shall have the honour of calling at the Bedford, Sir, if you'll
permit me,' said the Major. 'Joey B., Sir, is not in general a calling man,
but Mr Dombey's is not a common name. I am much indebted to my little
friend, Sir, for the honour of this introduction.'
Mr Dombey made a very gracious reply; and Major Bagstock, having patted
Paul on the head, and said of Florence that her eyes would play the Devil
with the youngsters before long - 'and the oldsters too, Sir, if you come to
that,' added the Major, chuckling very much - stirred up Master Bitherstone
with his walking-stick, and departed with that young gentleman, at a kind of
half-trot; rolling his head and coughing with great dignity, as he staggered
away, with his legs very wide asunder.
In fulfilment of his promise, the Major afterwards called on Mr Dombey;
and Mr Dombey, having referred to the army list, afterwards called on the
Major. Then the Major called at Mr Dombey's house in town; and came down
again, in the same coach as Mr Dombey. In short, Mr Dombey and the Major got
on uncommonly well together, and uncommonly fast: and Mr Dombey observed of
the Major, to his sister, that besides being quite a military man he was
really something more, as he had a very admirable idea of the importance of
things unconnected with his own profession.
At length Mr Dombey, bringing down Miss Tox and Mrs Chick to see the
children, and finding the Major again at Brighton, invited him to dinner at
the Bedford, and complimented Miss Tox highly, beforehand, on her neighbour
and acquaintance.
'My dearest Louisa,' said Miss Tox to Mrs Chick, when they were alone
together, on the morning of the appointed day, 'if I should seem at all
reserved to Major Bagstock, or under any constraint with him, promise me not
to notice it.'
'My dear Lucretia,' returned Mrs Chick, 'what mystery is involved in
this remarkable request? I must insist upon knowing.'
'Since you are resolved to extort a confession from me, Louisa,' said
Miss Tox instantly, 'I have no alternative but to confide to you that the
Major has been particular.'
'Particular!' repeated Mrs Chick.
'The Major has long been very particular indeed, my love, in his
attentions,' said Miss Tox, 'occasionally they have been so very marked,
that my position has been one of no common difficulty.'
'Is he in good circumstances?' inquired Mrs Chick.
'I have every reason to believe, my dear - indeed I may say I know,'
returned Miss Tox, 'that he is wealthy. He is truly military, and full of
anecdote. I have been informed that his valour, when he was in active
service, knew no bounds. I am told that he did all sorts of things in the
Peninsula, with every description of fire-arm; and in the East and West
Indies, my love, I really couldn't undertake to say what he did not do.'
'Very creditable to him indeed,' said Mrs Chick, 'extremely so; and you
have given him no encouragement, my dear?'
'If I were to say, Louisa,' replied Miss Tox, with every demonstration
of making an effort that rent her soul, 'that I never encouraged Major
Bagstock slightly, I should not do justice to the friendship which exists
between you and me. It is, perhaps, hardly in the nature of woman to receive
such attentions as the Major once lavished upon myself without betraying
some sense of obligation. But that is past - long past. Between the Major
and me there is now a yawning chasm, and I will not feign to give
encouragement, Louisa, where I cannot give my heart. My affections,' said
Miss Tox - 'but, Louisa, this is madness!' and departed from the room.
All this Mrs Chick communicated to her brother before dinner: and it by
no means indisposed Mr Dombey to receive the Major with unwonted cordiality.
The Major, for his part, was in a state of plethoric satisfaction that knew
no bounds: and he coughed, and choked, and chuckled, and gasped, and
swelled, until the waiters seemed positively afraid of him.
'Your family monopolises Joe's light, Sir,' said the Major, when he had
saluted Miss Tox. 'Joe lives in darkness. Princess's Place is changed into
Kamschatka in the winter time. There is no ray of sun, Sir, for Joey B.,
now.'
'Miss Tox is good enough to take a great deal of interest in Paul,
Major,' returned Mr Dombey on behalf of that blushing virgin.
'Damme Sir,' said the Major, 'I'm jealous of my little friend. I'm
pining away Sir. The Bagstock breed is degenerating in the forsaken person
of old Joe.' And the Major, becoming bluer and bluer and puffing his cheeks
further and further over the stiff ridge of his tight cravat, stared at Miss
Tox, until his eyes seemed as if he were at that moment being overdone
before the slow fire at the military college.
Notwithstanding the palpitation of the heart which these allusions
occasioned her, they were anything but disagreeable to Miss Tox, as they
enabled her to be extremely interesting, and to manifest an occasional
incoherence and distraction which she was not at all unwilling to display.
The Major gave her abundant opportunities of exhibiting this emotion: being
profuse in his complaints, at dinner, of her desertion of him and Princess's
Place: and as he appeared to derive great enjoyment from making them, they
all got on very well.
None the worse on account of the Major taking charge of the whole
conversation, and showing as great an appetite in that respect as in regard
of the various dainties on the table, among which he may be almost said to
have wallowed: greatly to the aggravation of his inflammatory tendencies. Mr
Dombey's habitual silence and reserve yielding readily to this usurpation,
the Major felt that he was coming out and shining: and in the flow of
spirits thus engendered, rang such an infinite number of new changes on his
own name that he quite astonished himself. In a word, they were all very
well pleased. The Major was considered to possess an inexhaustible fund of
conversation; and when he took a late farewell, after a long rubber, Mr
Dombey again complimented the blushing Miss Tox on her neighbour and
acquaintance.
But all the way home to his own hotel, the Major incessantly said to
himself, and of himself, 'Sly, Sir - sly, Sir - de-vil-ish sly!' And when he
got there, sat down in a chair, and fell into a silent fit of laughter, with
which he was sometimes seized, and which was always particularly awful. It
held him so long on this occasion that the dark servant, who stood watching
him at a distance, but dared not for his life approach, twice or thrice gave
him over for lost. His whole form, but especially his face and head, dilated
beyond all former experience; and presented to the dark man's view, nothing
but a heaving mass of indigo. At length he burst into a violent paroxysm of
coughing, and when that was a little better burst into such ejaculations as
the following:
'Would you, Ma'am, would you? Mrs Dombey, eh, Ma'am? I think not,
Ma'am. Not while Joe B. can put a spoke in your wheel, Ma'am. J. B.'s even
with you now, Ma'am. He isn't altogether bowled out, yet, Sir, isn't
Bagstock. She's deep, Sir, deep, but Josh is deeper. Wide awake is old Joe -
broad awake, and staring, Sir!' There was no doubt of this last assertion
being true, and to a very fearful extent; as it continued to be during the
greater part of that night, which the Major chiefly passed in similar
exclamations, diversified with fits of coughing and choking that startled
the whole house.
It was on the day after this occasion (being Sunday) when, as Mr
Dombey, Mrs Chick, and Miss Tox were sitting at breakfast, still eulogising
the Major, Florence came running in: her face suffused with a bright colour,
and her eyes sparkling joyfully: and cried,
'Papa! Papa! Here's Walter! and he won't come in.'
'Who?' cried Mr Dombey. 'What does she mean? What is this?'
'Walter, Papa!' said Florence timidly; sensible of having approached
the presence with too much familiarity. 'Who found me when I was lost.'
'Does she mean young Gay, Louisa?' inquired Mr Dombey, knitting his
brows. 'Really, this child's manners have become very boisterous. She cannot
mean young Gay, I think. See what it is, will you?'
Mrs Chick hurried into the passage, and returned with the information
that it was young Gay, accompanied by a very strange-looking person; and
that young Gay said he would not take the liberty of coming in, hearing Mr
Dombey was at breakfast, but would wait until Mr Dombey should signify that
he might approach.
'Tell the boy to come in now,' said Mr Dombey. 'Now, Gay, what is the
matter? Who sent you down here? Was there nobody else to come?'
'I beg your pardon, Sir,' returned Walter. 'I have not been sent. I
have been so bold as to come on my own account, which I hope you'll pardon
when I mention the cause.
But Mr Dombey, without attending to what he said, was looking
impatiently on either side of him (as if he were a pillar in his way) at
some object behind.
'What's that?' said Mr Dombey. 'Who is that? I think you have made some
mistake in the door, Sir.'
'Oh, I'm very sorry to intrude with anyone, Sir,' cried Walter,
hastily: 'but this is - this is Captain Cuttle, Sir.'
'Wal'r, my lad,' observed the Captain in a deep voice: 'stand by!'
At the same time the Captain, coming a little further in, brought out
his wide suit of blue, his conspicuous shirt-collar, and his knobby nose in
full relief, and stood bowing to Mr Dombey, and waving his hook politely to
the ladies, with the hard glazed hat in his one hand, and a red equator
round his head which it had newly imprinted there.
Mr Dombey regarded this phenomenon with amazement and indignation, and
seemed by his looks to appeal to Mrs Chick and Miss Tox against it. Little
Paul, who had come in after Florence, backed towards Miss Tox as the Captain
waved his book, and stood on the defensive.
'Now, Gay,' said Mr Dombey. 'What have you got to say to me?'
Again the Captain observed, as a general opening of the conversation
that could not fail to propitiate all parties, 'Wal'r, standby!'
'I am afraid, Sir,' began Walter, trembling, and looking down at the
ground, 'that I take a very great liberty in coming - indeed, I am sure I
do. I should hardly have had the courage to ask to see you, Sir, even after
coming down, I am afraid, if I had not overtaken Miss Dombey, and - '
'Well!' said Mr Dombey, following his eyes as he glanced at the
attentive Florence, and frowning unconsciously as she encouraged him with a
smile. 'Go on, if you please.'
'Ay, ay,' observed the Captain, considering it incumbent on him, as a
point of good breeding, to support Mr Dombey. 'Well said! Go on, Wal'r.'
Captain Cuttle ought to have been withered by the look which Mr Dombey
bestowed upon him in acknowledgment of his patronage. But quite innocent of
this, he closed one eye in reply, and gave Mr Dombey to understand, by
certain significant motions of his hook, that Walter was a little bashful at
first, and might be expected to come out shortly.
'It is entirely a private and personal matter, that has brought me
here, Sir,' continued Walter, faltering, 'and Captain Cuttle
'Here!' interposed the Captain, as an assurance that he was at hand,
and might be relied upon.
'Who is a very old friend of my poor Uncle's, and a most excellent man,
Sir,' pursued Walter, raising his eyes with a look of entreaty in the
Captain's behalf, 'was so good as to offer to come with me, which I could
hardly refuse.'
'No, no, no;' observed the Captain complacently. 'Of course not. No
call for refusing. Go on, Wal'r.'
'And therefore, Sir,' said Walter, venturing to meet Mr Dombey's eye,
and proceeding with better courage in the very desperation of the case, now
that there was no avoiding it, 'therefore I have come, with him, Sir, to say
that my poor old Uncle is in very great affliction and distress. That,
through the gradual loss of his business, and not being able to make a
payment, the apprehension of which has weighed very heavily upon his mind,
months and months, as indeed I know, Sir, he has an execution in his house,
and is in danger of losing all he has, and breaking his heart. And that if
you would, in your kindness, and in your old knowledge of him as a
respectable man, do anything to help him out of his difficulty, Sir, we
never could thank you enough for it.'
Walter's eyes filled with tears as he spoke; and so did those of
Florence. Her father saw them glistening, though he appeared to look at
Walter only.
'It is a very large sum, Sir,' said Walter. 'More than three hundred
pounds. My Uncle is quite beaten down by his misfortune, it lies so heavy on
him; and is quite unable to do anything for his own relief. He doesn't even
know yet, that I have come to speak to you. You would wish me to say, Sir,'
added Walter, after a moment's hesitation, 'exactly what it is I want. I
really don't know, Sir. There is my Uncle's stock, on which I believe I may
say, confidently, there are no other demands, and there is Captain Cuttle,
who would wish to be security too. I - I hardly like to mention,' said
Walter, 'such earnings as mine; but if you would allow them - accumulate -
payment - advance - Uncle - frugal, honourable, old man.' Walter trailed
off, through these broken sentences, into silence: and stood with downcast
head, before his employer.
Considering this a favourable moment for the display of the valuables,
Captain Cuttle advanced to the table; and clearing a space among the
breakfast-cups at Mr Dombey's elbow, produced the silver watch, the ready
money, the teaspoons, and the sugar-tongs; and piling them up into a heap
that they might look as precious as possible, delivered himself of these
words:
'Half a loaf's better than no bread, and the same remark holds good
with crumbs. There's a few. Annuity of one hundred pound premium also ready
to be made over. If there is a man chock full of science in the world, it's
old Sol Gills. If there is a lad of promise - one flowing,' added the
Captain, in one of his happy quotations, 'with milk and honey - it's his
nevy!'
The Captain then withdrew to his former place, where he stood arranging
his scattered locks with the air of a man who had given the finishing touch
to a difficult performance.
When Walter ceased to speak, Mr Dombey's eyes were attracted to little
Paul, who, seeing his sister hanging down her head and silently weeping in
her commiseration for the distress she had heard described, went over to
her, and tried to comfort her: looking at Walter and his father as he did
so, with a very expressive face. After the momentary distraction of Captain
Cuttle's address, which he regarded with lofty indifference, Mr Dombey again
turned his eyes upon his son, and sat steadily regarding the child, for some
moments, in silence.
'What was this debt contracted for?' asked Mr Dombey, at length. 'Who
is the creditor?'
'He don't know,' replied the Captain, putting his hand on Walter's
shoulder. 'I do. It came of helping a man that's dead now, and that's cost
my friend Gills many a hundred pound already. More particulars in private,
if agreeable.'
'People who have enough to do to hold their own way,' said Mr Dombey,
unobservant of the Captain's mysterious signs behind Walter, and still
looking at his son, 'had better be content with their own obligations and
difficulties, and not increase them by engaging for other men. It is an act
of dishonesty and presumption, too,' said Mr Dombey, sternly; 'great
presumption; for the wealthy could do no more. Paul, come here!'
The child obeyed: and Mr Dombey took him on his knee.
'If you had money now - ' said Mr Dombey. 'Look at me!'
Paul, whose eyes had wandered to his sister, and to Walter, looked his
father in the face.
'If you had money now,' said Mr Dombey; 'as much money as young Gay has
talked about; what would you do?'
'Give it to his old Uncle,' returned Paul.
'Lend it to his old Uncle, eh?' retorted Mr Dombey. 'Well! When you are
old enough, you know, you will share my money, and we shall use it
together.'
'Dombey and Son,' interrupted Paul, who had been tutored early in the
phrase.
'Dombey and Son,' repeated his father. 'Would you like to begin to be
Dombey and Son, now, and lend this money to young Gay's Uncle?'
'Oh! if you please, Papa!' said Paul: 'and so would Florence.'
'Girls,' said Mr Dombey, 'have nothing to do with Dombey and Son. Would
you like it?'
'Yes, Papa, yes!'
'Then you shall do it,' returned his father. 'And you see, Paul,' he
added, dropping his voice, 'how powerful money is, and how anxious people
are to get it. Young Gay comes all this way to beg for money, and you, who
are so grand and great, having got it, are going to let him have it, as a
great favour and obligation.'
Paul turned up the old face for a moment, in which there was a sharp
understanding of the reference conveyed in these words: but it was a young
and childish face immediately afterwards, when he slipped down from his
father's knee, and ran to tell Florence not to cry any more, for he was
going to let young Gay have the money.
Mr Dombey then turned to a side-table, and wrote a note and sealed it.
During the interval, Paul and Florence whispered to Walter, and Captain
Cuttle beamed on the three, with such aspiring and ineffably presumptuous
thoughts as Mr Dombey never could have believed in. The note being finished,
Mr Dombey turned round to his former place, and held it out to Walter.
'Give that,' he said, 'the first thing to-morrow morning, to Mr Carker.
He will immediately take care that one of my people releases your Uncle from
his present position, by paying the amount at issue; and that such
arrangements are made for its repayment as may be consistent with your
Uncle's circumstances. You will consider that this is done for you by Master
Paul.'
Walter, in the emotion of holding in his hand the means of releasing
his good Uncle from his trouble, would have endeavoured to express something
of his gratitude and joy. But Mr Dombey stopped him short.
'You will consider that it is done,' he repeated, 'by Master Paul. I
have explained that to him, and he understands it. I wish no more to be
said.'
As he motioned towards the door, Walter could only bow his head and
retire. Miss Tox, seeing that the Captain appeared about to do the same,
interposed.
'My dear Sir,' she said, addressing Mr Dombey, at whose munificence
both she and Mrs Chick were shedding tears copiously; 'I think you have
overlooked something. Pardon me, Mr Dombey, I think, in the nobility of your
character, and its exalted scope, you have omitted a matter of detail.'
'Indeed, Miss Tox!' said Mr Dombey.
'The gentleman with the - Instrument,' pursued Miss Tox, glancing at
Captain Cuttle, 'has left upon the table, at your elbow - '
'Good Heaven!' said Mr Dombey, sweeping the Captain's property from
him, as if it were so much crumb indeed. 'Take these things away. I am
obliged to you, Miss Tox; it is like your usual discretion. Have the
goodness to take these things away, Sir!'
Captain Cuttle felt he had no alternative but to comply. But he was so
much struck by the magnanimity of Mr Dombey, in refusing treasures lying
heaped up to his hand, that when he had deposited the teaspoons and
sugar-tongs in one pocket, and the ready money in another, and had lowered
the great watch down slowly into its proper vault, he could not refrain from
seizing that gentleman's right hand in his own solitary left, and while he
held it open with his powerful fingers, bringing the hook down upon its palm
in a transport of admiration. At this touch of warm feeling and cold iron,
Mr Dombey shivered all over.
Captain Cuttle then kissed his hook to the ladies several times, with
great elegance and gallantry; and having taken a particular leave of Paul
and Florence, accompanied Walter out of the room. Florence was running after
them in the earnestness of her heart, to send some message to old Sol, when
Mr Dombey called her back, and bade her stay where she was.
'Will you never be a Dombey, my dear child!' said Mrs Chick, with
pathetic reproachfulness.
'Dear aunt,' said Florence. 'Don't be angry with me. I am so thankful
to Papa!'
She would have run and thrown her arms about his neck if she had dared;
but as she did not dare, she glanced with thankful eyes towards him, as he
sat musing; sometimes bestowing an uneasy glance on her, but, for the most
part, watching Paul, who walked about the room with the new-blown dignity of
having let young Gay have the money.
And young Gay - Walter- what of him?
He was overjoyed to purge the old man's hearth from bailiffs and
brokers, and to hurry back to his Uncle with the good tidings. He was
overjoyed to have it all arranged and settled next day before noon; and to
sit down at evening in the little back parlour with old Sol and Captain
Cuttle; and to see the Instrument-maker already reviving, and hopeful for
the future, and feeling that the wooden Midshipman was his own again. But
without the least impeachment of his gratitude to Mr Dombey, it must be
confessed that Walter was humbled and cast down. It is when our budding
hopes are nipped beyond recovery by some rough wind, that we are the most
disposed to picture to ourselves what flowers they might have borne, if they
had flourished; and now, when Walter found himself cut off from that great
Dombey height, by the depth of a new and terrible tumble, and felt that all
his old wild fancies had been scattered to the winds in the fall, he began
to suspect that they might have led him on to harmless visions of aspiring
to Florence in the remote distance of time.
The Captain viewed the subject in quite a different light. He appeared
to entertain a belief that the interview at which he had assisted was so
very satisfactory and encouraging, as to be only a step or two removed from
a regular betrothal of Florence to Walter; and that the late transaction had
immensely forwarded, if not thoroughly established, the Whittingtonian
hopes. Stimulated by this conviction, and by the improvement in the spirits
of his old friend, and by his own consequent gaiety, he even attempted, in
favouring them with the ballad of 'Lovely Peg' for the third time in one
evening, to make an extemporaneous substitution of the name 'Florence;' but
finding this difficult, on account of the word Peg invariably rhyming to leg
(in which personal beauty the original was described as having excelled all
competitors), he hit upon the happy thought of changing it to Fle-e-eg;
which he accordingly did, with an archness almost supernatural, and a voice
quite vociferous, notwithstanding that the time was close at band when he
must seek the abode of the dreadful Mrs MacStinger.
That same evening the Major was diffuse at his club, on the subject of
his friend Dombey in the City. 'Damme, Sir,' said the Major, 'he's a prince,
is my friend Dombey in the City. I tell you what, Sir. If you had a few more
men among you like old Joe Bagstock and my friend Dombey in the City, Sir,
you'd do!'
Paul's Introduction to a New Scene
Mrs Pipchin's constitution was made of such hard metal, in spite of its
liability to the fleshly weaknesses of standing in need of repose after
chops, and of requiring to be coaxed to sleep by the soporific agency of
sweet-breads, that it utterly set at naught the predictions of Mrs Wickam,
and showed no symptoms of decline. Yet, as Paul's rapt interest in the old
lady continued unbated, Mrs Wickam would not budge an inch from the position
she had taken up. Fortifying and entrenching herself on the strong ground of
her Uncle's Betsey Jane, she advised Miss Berry, as a friend, to prepare
herself for the worst; and forewarned her that her aunt might, at any time,
be expected to go off suddenly, like a powder-mill.
'I hope, Miss Berry,' Mrs Wickam would observe, 'that you'll come into
whatever little property there may be to leave. You deserve it, I am sure,
for yours is a trying life. Though there don't seem much worth coming into -
you'll excuse my being so open - in this dismal den.'
Poor Berry took it all in good part, and drudged and slaved away as
usual; perfectly convinced that Mrs Pipchin was one of the most meritorious
persons in the world, and making every day innumerable sacrifices of herself
upon the altar of that noble old woman. But all these immolations of Berry
were somehow carried to the credit of Mrs Pipchin by Mrs Pipchin's friends
and admirers; and were made to harmonise with, and carry out, that
melancholy fact of the deceased Mr Pipchin having broken his heart in the
Peruvian mines.
For example, there was an honest grocer and general dealer in the
retail line of business, between whom and Mrs Pipchin there was a small
memorandum book, with a greasy red cover, perpetually in question, and
concerning which divers secret councils and conferences were continually
being held between the parties to that register, on the mat in the passage,
and with closed doors in the parlour. Nor were there wanting dark hints from
Master Bitherstone (whose temper had been made revengeful by the solar heats
of India acting on his blood), of balances unsettled, and of a failure, on
one occasion within his memory, in the supply of moist sugar at tea-time.
This grocer being a bachelor and not a man who looked upon the surface for
beauty, had once made honourable offers for the hand of Berry, which Mrs
Pipchin had, with contumely and scorn, rejected. Everybody said how laudable
this was in Mrs Pipchin, relict of a man who had died of the Peruvian mines;
and what a staunch, high, independent spirit the old lady had. But nobody
said anything about poor Berry, who cried for six weeks (being soundly rated
by her good aunt all the time), and lapsed into a state of hopeless
spinsterhood.
'Berry's very fond of you, ain't she?' Paul once asked Mrs Pipchin when
they were sitting by the fire with the cat.
'Yes,' said Mrs Pipchin.
'Why?' asked Paul.
'Why!' returned the disconcerted old lady. 'How can you ask such
things, Sir! why are you fond of your sister Florence?'
'Because she's very good,' said Paul. 'There's nobody like Florence.'
'Well!' retorted Mrs Pipchin, shortly, 'and there's nobody like me, I
suppose.'
'Ain't there really though?' asked Paul, leaning forward in his chair,
and looking at her very hard.
'No,' said the old lady.
'I am glad of that,' observed Paul, rubbing his hands thoughtfully.
'That's a very good thing.'
Mrs Pipchin didn't dare to ask him why, lest she should receive some
perfectly annihilating answer. But as a compensation to her wounded
feelings, she harassed Master Bitherstone to that extent until bed-time,
that he began that very night to make arrangements for an overland return to
India, by secreting from his supper a quarter of a round of bread and a
fragment of moist Dutch cheese, as the beginning of a stock of provision to
support him on the voyage.
Mrs Pipchin had kept watch and ward over little Paul and his sister for
nearly twelve months. They had been home twice, but only for a few days; and
had been constant in their weekly visits to Mr Dombey at the hotel. By
little and little Paul had grown stronger, and had become able to dispense
with his carriage; though he still looked thin and delicate; and still
remained the same old, quiet, dreamy child that he had been when first
consigned to Mrs Pipchin's care. One Saturday afternoon, at dusk, great
consternation was occasioned in the Castle by the unlooked-for announcement
of Mr Dombey as a visitor to Mrs Pipchin. The population of the parlour was
immediately swept upstairs as on the wings of a whirlwind, and after much
slamming of bedroom doors, and trampling overhead, and some knocking about
of Master Bitherstone by Mrs Pipchin, as a relief to the perturbation of her
spirits, the black bombazeen garments of the worthy old lady darkened the
audience-chamber where Mr Dombey was contemplating the vacant arm-chair of
his son and heir.
'Mrs Pipchin,' said Mr Dombey, 'How do you do?'
'Thank you, Sir,' said Mrs Pipchin, 'I am pretty well, considering.'
Mrs Pipchin always used that form of words. It meant, considering her
virtues, sacrifices, and so forth.
'I can't expect, Sir, to be very well,' said Mrs Pipchin, taking a
chair and fetching her breath; 'but such health as I have, I am grateful
for.'
Mr Dombey inclined his head with the satisfied air of a patron, who
felt that this was the sort of thing for which he paid so much a quarter.
After a moment's silence he went on to say:
'Mrs Pipchin, I have taken the liberty of calling, to consult you in
reference to my son. I have had it in my mind to do so for some time past;
but have deferred it from time to time, in order that his health might be
thoroughly re-established. You have no misgivings on that subject, Mrs
Pipchin?'
'Brighton has proved very beneficial, Sir,' returned Mrs Pipchin. 'Very
beneficial, indeed.'
'I purpose,' said Mr Dombey, 'his remaining at Brighton.'
Mrs Pipchin rubbed her hands, and bent her grey eyes on the fire.
'But,' pursued Mr Dombey, stretching out his forefinger, 'but possibly
that he should now make a change, and lead a different kind of life here. In
short, Mrs Pipchin, that is the object of my visit. My son is getting on,
Mrs Pipchin. Really, he is getting on.'
There was something melancholy in the triumphant air with which Mr
Dombey said this. It showed how long Paul's childish life had been to him,
and how his hopes were set upon a later stage of his existence. Pity may
appear a strange word to connect with anyone so haughty and so cold, and yet
he seemed a worthy subject for it at that moment.
'Six years old!' said Mr Dombey, settling his neckcloth - perhaps to
hide an irrepressible smile that rather seemed to strike upon the surface of
his face and glance away, as finding no resting-place, than to play there
for an instant. 'Dear me, six will be changed to sixteen, before we have
time to look about us.'
'Ten years,' croaked the unsympathetic Pipchin, with a frosty
glistening of her hard grey eye, and a dreary shaking of her bent head, 'is
a long time.'
'It depends on circumstances, returned Mr Dombey; 'at all events, Mrs
Pipchin, my son is six years old, and there is no doubt, I fear, that in his
studies he is behind many children of his age - or his youth,' said Mr
Dombey, quickly answering what he mistrusted was a shrewd twinkle of the
frosty eye, 'his youth is a more appropriate expression. Now, Mrs Pipchin,
instead of being behind his peers, my son ought to be before them; far
before them. There is an eminence ready for him to mount upon. There is
nothing of chance or doubt in the course before my son. His way in life was
clear and prepared, and marked out before he existed. The education of such
a young gentleman must not be delayed. It must not be left imperfect. It
must be very steadily and seriously undertaken, Mrs Pipchin.'
'Well, Sir,' said Mrs Pipchin, 'I can say nothing to the contrary.'
'I was quite sure, Mrs Pipchin,' returned Mr Dombey, approvingly, 'that
a person of your good sense could not, and would not.'
'There is a great deal of nonsense - and worse - talked about young
people not being pressed too hard at first, and being tempted on, and all
the rest of it, Sir,' said Mrs Pipchin, impatiently rubbing her hooked nose.
'It never was thought of in my time, and it has no business to be thought of
now. My opinion is "keep 'em at it".'
'My good madam,' returned Mr Dombey, 'you have not acquired your
reputation undeservedly; and I beg you to believe, Mrs Pipchin, that I am
more than satisfied with your excellent system of management, and shall have
the greatest pleasure in commending it whenever my poor commendation - ' Mr
Dombey's loftiness when he affected to disparage his own importance, passed
all bounds - 'can be of any service. I have been thinking of Doctor
Blimber's, Mrs Pipchin.'
'My neighbour, Sir?' said Mrs Pipchin. 'I believe the Doctor's is an
excellent establishment. I've heard that it's very strictly conducted, and
there is nothing but learning going on from morning to night.'
'And it's very expensive,' added Mr Dombey.
'And it's very expensive, Sir,' returned Mrs Pipchin, catching at the
fact, as if in omitting that, she had omitted one of its leading merits.
'I have had some communication with the Doctor, Mrs Pipchin,' said Mr
Dombey, hitching his chair anxiously a little nearer to the fire, 'and he
does not consider Paul at all too young for his purpose. He mentioned
several instances of boys in Greek at about the same age. If I have any
little uneasiness in my own mind, Mrs Pipchin, on the subject of this
change, it is not on that head. My son not having known a mother has
gradually concentrated much - too much - of his childish affection on his
sister. Whether their separation - ' Mr Dombey said no more, but sat silent.
'Hoity-toity!' exclaimed Mrs Pipchin, shaking out her black bombazeen
skirts, and plucking up all the ogress within her. 'If she don't like it, Mr
Dombey, she must be taught to lump it.' The good lady apologised immediately
afterwards for using so common a figure of speech, but said (and truly) that
that was the way she reasoned with 'em.
Mr Dombey waited until Mrs Pipchin had done bridling and shaking her
head, and frowning down a legion of Bitherstones and Pankeys; and then said
quietly, but correctively, 'He, my good madam, he.'
Mrs Pipchin's system would have applied very much the same mode of cure
to any uneasiness on the part of Paul, too; but as the hard grey eye was
sharp enough to see that the recipe, however Mr Dombey might admit its
efficacy in the case of the daughter, was not a sovereign remedy for the
son, she argued the point; and contended that change, and new society, and
the different form of life he would lead at Doctor Blimber's, and the
studies he would have to master, would very soon prove sufficient
alienations. As this chimed in with Mr Dombey's own hope and belief, it gave
that gentleman a still higher opinion of Mrs Pipchin's understanding; and as
Mrs Pipchin, at the same time, bewailed the loss of her dear little friend
(which was not an overwhelming shock to her, as she had long expected it,
and had not looked, in the beginning, for his remaining with her longer than
three months), he formed an equally good opinion of Mrs Pipchin's
disinterestedness. It was plain that he had given the subject anxious
consideration, for he had formed a plan, which he announced to the ogress,
of sending Paul to the Doctor's as a weekly boarder for the first half year,
during which time Florence would remain at the Castle, that she might
receive her brother there, on Saturdays. This would wean him by degrees, Mr
Dombey said; possibly with a recollection of his not having been weaned by