If the guests chose to partake of what
was served, he saw no objection; but it was served for the maintenance
of his rank. As he stood by the sideboard he seemed to announce, 'I have
accepted office to look at this which is now before me, and to look at
nothing less than this.' If he missed the presiding bosom, it was as a
part of his own state of which he was, from unavoidable circumstances,
temporarily deprived, just as he might have missed a centre-piece, or a
choice wine-cooler, which had been sent to the Banker's.
Mr Merdle issued invitations for a Barnacle dinner. Lord Decimus was to
be there, Mr Tite Barnacle was to be there, the pleasant young Barnacle
was to be there; and the Chorus of Parliamentary Barnacles who went
about the provinces when the House was up, warbling the praises of their
Chief, were to be represented there. It was understood to be a great
occasion. Mr Merdle was going to take up the Barnacles. Some delicate
little negotiations had occurred between him and the noble Decimus--the
young Barnacle of engaging manners acting as negotiator--and Mr Merdle
had decided to cast the weight of his great probity and great riches
into the Barnacle scale. Jobbery was suspected by the malicious; perhaps
because it was indisputable that if the adherence of the immortal Enemy
of Mankind could have been secured by a job, the Barnacles would have
jobbed him--for the good of the country, for the good of the country.
Mrs Merdle had written to this magnificent spouse of hers, whom it was
heresy to regard as anything less than all the British Merchants since
the days of Whittington rolled into one, and gilded three feet deep all
over--had written to this spouse of hers, several letters from Rome, in
quick succession, urging upon him with importunity that now or never was
the time to provide for Edmund Sparkler. Mrs Merdle had shown him that
the case of Edmund was urgent, and that infinite advantages might result
from his having some good thing directly. In the grammar of Mrs
Merdle's verbs on this momentous subject, there was only one mood, the
Imperative; and that Mood had only one Tense, the Present. Mrs Merdle's
verbs were so pressingly presented to Mr Merdle to conjugate, that his
sluggish blood and his long coat-cuffs became quite agitated.
In which state of agitation, Mr Merdle, evasively rolling his eyes
round the Chief Butler's shoes without raising them to the index of that
stupendous creature's thoughts, had signified to him his intention of
giving a special dinner: not a very large dinner, but a very special
dinner. The Chief Butler had signified, in return, that he had no
objection to look on at the most expensive thing in that way that could
be done; and the day of the dinner was now come.
Mr Merdle stood in one of his drawing-rooms, with his back to the fire,
waiting for the arrival of his important guests. He seldom or never took
the liberty of standing with his back to the fire unless he was quite
alone. In the presence of the Chief Butler, he could not have done such
a deed. He would have clasped himself by the wrists in that constabulary
manner of his, and have paced up and down the hearthrug, or gone
creeping about among the rich objects of furniture, if his oppressive
retainer had appeared in the room at that very moment. The sly shadows
which seemed to dart out of hiding when the fire rose, and to dart back
into it when the fire fell, were sufficient witnesses of his making
himself so easy.
They were even more than sufficient, if his uncomfortable glances at
them might be taken to mean anything.
Mr Merdle's right hand was filled with the evening paper, and the
evening paper was full of Mr Merdle. His wonderful enterprise, his
wonderful wealth, his wonderful Bank, were the fattening food of the
evening paper that night. The wonderful Bank, of which he was the chief
projector, establisher, and manager, was the latest of the many Merdle
wonders. So modest was Mr Merdle withal, in the midst of these splendid
achievements, that he looked far more like a man in possession of his
house under a distraint, than a commercial Colossus bestriding his own
hearthrug, while the little ships were sailing into dinner.
Behold the vessels coming into port! The engaging young Barnacle was the
first arrival; but Bar overtook him on the staircase. Bar, strengthened
as usual with his double eye-glass and his little jury droop, was
overjoyed to see the engaging young Barnacle; and opined that we were
going to sit in Banco, as we lawyers called it, to take a special
argument?
'Indeed,' said the sprightly young Barnacle, whose name was Ferdinand;
'how so?'
'Nay,' smiled Bar. 'If you don't know, how can I know? You are in the
innermost sanctuary of the temple; I am one of the admiring concourse on
the plain without.'
Bar could be light in hand, or heavy in hand, according to the customer
he had to deal with. With Ferdinand Barnacle he was gossamer. Bar was
likewise always modest and self-depreciatory--in his way. Bar was a man
of great variety; but one leading thread ran through the woof of all his
patterns. Every man with whom he had to do was in his eyes a jury-man;
and he must get that jury-man over, if he could.
'Our illustrious host and friend,' said Bar; 'our shining mercantile
star;--going into politics?'
'Going? He has been in Parliament some time, you know,' returned the
engaging young Barnacle.
'True,' said Bar, with his light-comedy laugh for special jury-men,
which was a very different thing from his low-comedy laugh for comic
tradesmen on common juries: 'he has been in Parliament for some time.
Yet hitherto our star has been a vacillating and wavering star? Humph?'
An average witness would have been seduced by the Humph? into an
affirmative answer, But Ferdinand Barnacle looked knowingly at Bar as he
strolled up-stairs, and gave him no answer at all.
'Just so, just so,' said Bar, nodding his head, for he was not to be put
off in that way, 'and therefore I spoke of our sitting in Banco to take
a special argument--meaning this to be a high and solemn occasion, when,
as Captain Macheath says, "the judges are met: a terrible show!" We
lawyers are sufficiently liberal, you see, to quote the Captain, though
the Captain is severe upon us. Nevertheless, I think I could put in
evidence an admission of the Captain's,' said Bar, with a little jocose
roll of his head; for, in his legal current of speech, he always assumed
the air of rallying himself with the best grace in the world; 'an
admission of the Captain's that Law, in the gross, is at least
intended to be impartial. For what says the Captain, if I quote
him correctly--and if not,' with a light-comedy touch of his double
eye-glass on his companion's shoulder, 'my learned friend will set me
right:
"Since laws were made for every degree,
To curb vice in others as well as in me,
I wonder we ha'n't better company
Upon Tyburn Tree!"'
These words brought them to the drawing-room, where Mr Merdle stood
before the fire. So immensely astounded was Mr Merdle by the entrance
of Bar with such a reference in his mouth, that Bar explained himself
to have been quoting Gay. 'Assuredly not one of our Westminster Hall
authorities,' said he, 'but still no despicable one to a man possessing
the largely-practical Mr Merdle's knowledge of the world.'
Mr Merdle looked as if he thought he would say something, but
subsequently looked as if he thought he wouldn't. The interval afforded
time for Bishop to be announced. Bishop came in with meekness, and yet
with a strong and rapid step as if he wanted to get his seven-league
dress-shoes on, and go round the world to see that everybody was in
a satisfactory state. Bishop had no idea that there was anything
significant in the occasion. That was the most remarkable trait in
his demeanour. He was crisp, fresh, cheerful, affable, bland; but so
surprisingly innocent.
Bar sidled up to prefer his politest inquiries in reference to the
health of Mrs Bishop. Mrs Bishop had been a little unfortunate in the
article of taking cold at a Confirmation, but otherwise was well. Young
Mr Bishop was also well. He was down, with his young wife and little
family, at his Cure of Souls. The representatives of the Barnacle Chorus
dropped in next, and Mr Merdle's physician dropped in next. Bar, who
had a bit of one eye and a bit of his double eye-glass for every one who
came in at the door, no matter with whom he was conversing or what he
was talking about, got among them all by some skilful means, without
being seen to get at them, and touched each individual gentleman of the
jury on his own individual favourite spot. With some of the Chorus,
he laughed about the sleepy member who had gone out into the lobby the
other night, and voted the wrong way: with others, he deplored that
innovating spirit in the time which could not even be prevented from
taking an unnatural interest in the public service and the public money:
with the physician he had a word to say about the general health; he had
also a little information to ask him for, concerning a professional man
of unquestioned erudition and polished manners--but those credentials
in their highest development he believed were the possession of other
professors of the healing art (jury droop)--whom he had happened to
have in the witness-box the day before yesterday, and from whom he had
elicited in cross-examination that he claimed to be one of the exponents
of this new mode of treatment which appeared to Bar to--eh?--well, Bar
thought so; Bar had thought, and hoped, Physician would tell him so.
Without presuming to decide where doctors disagreed, it did appear to
Bar, viewing it as a question of common sense and not of so-called legal
penetration, that this new system was--might be, in the presence of so
great an authority--say, Humbug? Ah! Fortified by such encouragement, he
could venture to say Humbug; and now Bar's mind was relieved.
Mr Tite Barnacle, who, like Dr johnson's celebrated acquaintance, had
only one idea in his head and that was a wrong one, had appeared by this
time. This eminent gentleman and Mr Merdle, seated diverse ways and with
ruminating aspects on a yellow ottoman in the light of the fire,
holding no verbal communication with each other, bore a strong general
resemblance to the two cows in the Cuyp picture over against them.
But now, Lord Decimus arrived. The Chief Butler, who up to this time
had limited himself to a branch of his usual function by looking at the
company as they entered (and that, with more of defiance than favour),
put himself so far out of his way as to come up-stairs with him and
announce him. Lord Decimus being an overpowering peer, a bashful young
member of the Lower House who was the last fish but one caught by the
Barnacles, and who had been invited on this occasion to commemorate his
capture, shut his eyes when his Lordship came in.
Lord Decimus, nevertheless, was glad to see the Member. He was also
glad to see Mr Merdle, glad to see Bishop, glad to see Bar, glad to see
Physician, glad to see Tite Barnacle, glad to see Chorus, glad to
see Ferdinand his private secretary. Lord Decimus, though one of the
greatest of the earth, was not remarkable for ingratiatory manners, and
Ferdinand had coached him up to the point of noticing all the fellows
he might find there, and saying he was glad to see them. When he had
achieved this rush of vivacity and condescension, his Lordship composed
himself into the picture after Cuyp, and made a third cow in the group.
Bar, who felt that he had got all the rest of the jury and must now lay
hold of the Foreman, soon came sidling up, double eye-glass in hand. Bar
tendered the weather, as a subject neatly aloof from official reserve,
for the Foreman's consideration. Bar said that he was told (as everybody
always is told, though who tells them, and why, will ever remain a
mystery), that there was to be no wall-fruit this year. Lord Decimus
had not heard anything amiss of his peaches, but rather believed, if his
people were correct, he was to have no apples. No apples? Bar was lost
in astonishment and concern. It would have been all one to him, in
reality, if there had not been a pippin on the surface of the earth, but
his show of interest in this apple question was positively painful.
Now, to what, Lord Decimus--for we troublesome lawyers loved to gather
information, and could never tell how useful it might prove to us--to
what, Lord Decimus, was this to be attributed? Lord Decimus could not
undertake to propound any theory about it. This might have stopped
another man; but Bar, sticking to him fresh as ever, said, 'As to pears,
now?'
Long after Bar got made Attorney-General, this was told of him as
a master-stroke. Lord Decimus had a reminiscence about a pear-tree
formerly growing in a garden near the back of his dame's house at Eton,
upon which pear-tree the only joke of his life perennially bloomed. It
was a joke of a compact and portable nature, turning on the difference
between Eton pears and Parliamentary pairs; but it was a joke, a refined
relish of which would seem to have appeared to Lord Decimus impossible
to be had without a thorough and intimate acquaintance with the tree.
Therefore, the story at first had no idea of such a tree, sir, then
gradually found it in winter, carried it through the changing season,
saw it bud, saw it blossom, saw it bear fruit, saw the fruit ripen; in
short, cultivated the tree in that diligent and minute manner before it
got out of the bed-room window to steal the fruit, that many thanks had
been offered up by belated listeners for the trees having been planted
and grafted prior to Lord Decimus's time. Bar's interest in apples was
so overtopped by the wrapt suspense in which he pursued the changes
of these pears, from the moment when Lord Decimus solemnly opened with
'Your mentioning pears recalls to my remembrance a pear-tree,' down to
the rich conclusion, 'And so we pass, through the various changes
of life, from Eton pears to Parliamentary pairs,' that he had to go
down-stairs with Lord Decimus, and even then to be seated next to him
at table in order that he might hear the anecdote out. By that time, Bar
felt that he had secured the Foreman, and might go to dinner with a good
appetite.
It was a dinner to provoke an appetite, though he had not had one. The
rarest dishes, sumptuously cooked and sumptuously served; the choicest
fruits; the most exquisite wines; marvels of workmanship in gold and
silver, china and glass; innumerable things delicious to the senses of
taste, smell, and sight, were insinuated into its composition. O, what
a wonderful man this Merdle, what a great man, what a master man, how
blessedly and enviably endowed--in one word, what a rich man!
He took his usual poor eighteenpennyworth of food in his usual
indigestive way, and had as little to say for himself as ever a
wonderful man had. Fortunately Lord Decimus was one of those sublimities
who have no occasion to be talked to, for they can be at any time
sufficiently occupied with the contemplation of their own greatness.
This enabled the bashful young Member to keep his eyes open long enough
at a time to see his dinner. But, whenever Lord Decimus spoke, he shut
them again.
The agreeable young Barnacle, and Bar, were the talkers of the party.
Bishop would have been exceedingly agreeable also, but that his
innocence stood in his way. He was so soon left behind. When there was
any little hint of anything being in the wind, he got lost directly.
Worldly affairs were too much for him; he couldn't make them out at all.
This was observable when Bar said, incidentally, that he was happy to
have heard that we were soon to have the advantage of enlisting on
the good side, the sound and plain sagacity--not demonstrative or
ostentatious, but thoroughly sound and practical--of our friend Mr
Sparkler.
Ferdinand Barnacle laughed, and said oh yes, he believed so. A vote was
a vote, and always acceptable.
Bar was sorry to miss our good friend Mr Sparkler to-day, Mr Merdle.
'He is away with Mrs Merdle,' returned that gentleman, slowly coming
out of a long abstraction, in the course of which he had been fitting a
tablespoon up his sleeve. 'It is not indispensable for him to be on the
spot.'
'The magic name of Merdle,' said Bar, with the jury droop, 'no doubt
will suffice for all.'
'Why--yes--I believe so,' assented Mr Merdle, putting the spoon aside,
and clumsily hiding each of his hands in the coat-cuff of the other
hand. 'I believe the people in my interest down there will not make any
difficulty.'
'Model people!' said Bar. 'I am glad you approve of them,' said Mr
Merdle.
'And the people of those other two places, now,' pursued Bar, with a
bright twinkle in his keen eye, as it slightly turned in the direction
of his magnificent neighbour; 'we lawyers are always curious, always
inquisitive, always picking up odds and ends for our patchwork minds,
since there is no knowing when and where they may fit into some
corner;--the people of those other two places now? Do they yield so
laudably to the vast and cumulative influence of such enterprise and
such renown; do those little rills become absorbed so quietly
and easily, and, as it were by the influence of natural laws, so
beautifully, in the swoop of the majestic stream as it flows upon its
wondrous way enriching the surrounding lands; that their course is
perfectly to be calculated, and distinctly to be predicated?'
Mr Merdle, a little troubled by Bar's eloquence, looked fitfully about
the nearest salt-cellar for some moments, and then said hesitating:
'They are perfectly aware, sir, of their duty to Society. They will
return anybody I send to them for that purpose.'
'Cheering to know,' said Bar. 'Cheering to know.'
The three places in question were three little rotten holes in this
Island, containing three little ignorant, drunken, guzzling, dirty,
out-of-the-way constituencies, that had reeled into Mr Merdle's pocket.
Ferdinand Barnacle laughed in his easy way, and airily said they were
a nice set of fellows. Bishop, mentally perambulating among paths of
peace, was altogether swallowed up in absence of mind.
'Pray,' asked Lord Decimus, casting his eyes around the table, 'what
is this story I have heard of a gentleman long confined in a debtors'
prison proving to be of a wealthy family, and having come into the
inheritance of a large sum of money? I have met with a variety of
allusions to it. Do you know anything of it, Ferdinand?'
'I only know this much,' said Ferdinand, 'that he has given the
Department with which I have the honour to be associated;' this
sparkling young Barnacle threw off the phrase sportively, as who should
say, We know all about these forms of speech, but we must keep it up,
we must keep the game alive; 'no end of trouble, and has put us into
innumerable fixes.'
'Fixes?' repeated Lord Decimus, with a majestic pausing and pondering
on the word that made the bashful Member shut his eyes quite tight.
'Fixes?'
'A very perplexing business indeed,' observed Mr Tite Barnacle, with an
air of grave resentment.
'What,' said Lord Decimus, 'was the character of his business; what was
the nature of these--a--Fixes, Ferdinand?'
'Oh, it's a good story, as a story,' returned that gentleman; 'as good
a thing of its kind as need be. This Mr Dorrit (his name is Dorrit) had
incurred a responsibility to us, ages before the fairy came out of
the Bank and gave him his fortune, under a bond he had signed for the
performance of a contract which was not at all performed. He was a
partner in a house in some large way--spirits, or buttons, or wine, or
blacking, or oatmeal, or woollen, or pork, or hooks and eyes, or iron,
or treacle, or shoes, or something or other that was wanted for troops,
or seamen, or somebody--and the house burst, and we being among
the creditors, detainees were lodged on the part of the Crown in a
scientific manner, and all the rest Of it. When the fairy had appeared
and he wanted to pay us off, Egad we had got into such an exemplary
state of checking and counter-checking, signing and counter-signing,
that it was six months before we knew how to take the money, or how to
give a receipt for it. It was a triumph of public business,' said this
handsome young Barnacle, laughing heartily, 'You never saw such a lot of
forms in your life. "Why," the attorney said to me one day, "if I wanted
this office to give me two or three thousand pounds instead of take it,
I couldn't have more trouble about it." "You are right, old fellow,"
I told him, "and in future you'll know that we have something to do
here."' The pleasant young Barnacle finished by once more laughing
heartily. He was a very easy, pleasant fellow indeed, and his manners
were exceedingly winning.
Mr Tite Barnacle's view of the business was of a less airy character. He
took it ill that Mr Dorrit had troubled the Department by wanting to
pay the money, and considered it a grossly informal thing to do after so
many years. But Mr Tite Barnacle was a buttoned-up man, and consequently
a weighty one. All buttoned-up men are weighty. All buttoned-up men are
believed in. Whether or no the reserved and never-exercised power of
unbuttoning, fascinates mankind; whether or no wisdom is supposed to
condense and augment when buttoned up, and to evaporate when unbuttoned;
it is certain that the man to whom importance is accorded is the
buttoned-up man. Mr Tite Barnacle never would have passed for half his
current value, unless his coat had been always buttoned-up to his white
cravat.
'May I ask,' said Lord Decimus, 'if Mr Darrit--or Dorrit--has any
family?'
Nobody else replying, the host said, 'He has two daughters, my lord.'
'Oh! you are acquainted with him?' asked Lord Decimus.
'Mrs Merdle is. Mr Sparkler is, too. In fact,' said Mr Merdle, 'I rather
believe that one of the young ladies has made an impression on Edmund
Sparkler. He is susceptible, and--I--think--the conquest--' Here Mr
Merdle stopped, and looked at the table-cloth, as he usually did when he
found himself observed or listened to.
Bar was uncommonly pleased to find that the Merdle family, and this
family, had already been brought into contact. He submitted, in a low
voice across the table to Bishop, that it was a kind of analogical
illustration of those physical laws, in virtue of which Like flies to
Like. He regarded this power of attraction in wealth to draw wealth
to it, as something remarkably interesting and curious--something
indefinably allied to the loadstone and gravitation. Bishop, who
had ambled back to earth again when the present theme was broached,
acquiesced. He said it was indeed highly important to Society that one
in the trying situation of unexpectedly finding himself invested with a
power for good or for evil in Society, should become, as it were, merged
in the superior power of a more legitimate and more gigantic growth, the
influence of which (as in the case of our friend at whose board we sat)
was habitually exercised in harmony with the best interests of Society.
Thus, instead of two rival and contending flames, a larger and a lesser,
each burning with a lurid and uncertain glare, we had a blended and a
softened light whose genial ray diffused an equable warmth throughout
the land. Bishop seemed to like his own way of putting the case very
much, and rather dwelt upon it; Bar, meanwhile (not to throw away a
jury-man), making a show of sitting at his feet and feeding on his
precepts.
The dinner and dessert being three hours long, the bashful Member cooled
in the shadow of Lord Decimus faster than he warmed with food and drink,
and had but a chilly time of it. Lord Decimus, like a tall tower in a
flat country, seemed to project himself across the table-cloth, hide the
light from the honourable Member, cool the honourable Member's marrow,
and give him a woeful idea of distance. When he asked this unfortunate
traveller to take wine, he encompassed his faltering steps with the
gloomiest of shades; and when he said, 'Your health sir!' all around him
was barrenness and desolation.
At length Lord Decimus, with a coffee-cup in his hand, began to hover
about among the pictures, and to cause an interesting speculation to
arise in all minds as to the probabilities of his ceasing to hover, and
enabling the smaller birds to flutter up-stairs; which could not be
done until he had urged his noble pinions in that direction. After some
delay, and several stretches of his wings which came to nothing, he
soared to the drawing-rooms.
And here a difficulty arose, which always does arise when two people
are specially brought together at a dinner to confer with one another.
Everybody (except Bishop, who had no suspicion of it) knew perfectly
well that this dinner had been eaten and drunk, specifically to the end
that Lord Decimus and Mr Merdle should have five minutes' conversation
together. The opportunity so elaborately prepared was now arrived, and
it seemed from that moment that no mere human ingenuity could so much as
get the two chieftains into the same room. Mr Merdle and his noble guest
persisted in prowling about at opposite ends of the perspective. It was
in vain for the engaging Ferdinand to bring Lord Decimus to look at the
bronze horses near Mr Merdle. Then Mr Merdle evaded, and wandered away.
It was in vain for him to bring Mr Merdle to Lord Decimus to tell him
the history of the unique Dresden vases. Then Lord Decimus evaded and
wandered away, while he was getting his man up to the mark.
'Did you ever see such a thing as this?' said Ferdinand to Bar when he
had been baffled twenty times.
'Often,' returned Bar.
'Unless I butt one of them into an appointed corner, and you butt the
other,' said Ferdinand,'it will not come off after all.'
'Very good,' said Bar. 'I'll butt Merdle, if you like; but not my lord.'
Ferdinand laughed, in the midst of his vexation. 'Confound them both!'
said he, looking at his watch. 'I want to get away. Why the deuce can't
they come together! They both know what they want and mean to do. Look
at them!'
They were still looming at opposite ends of the perspective, each with
an absurd pretence of not having the other on his mind, which could not
have been more transparently ridiculous though his real mind had been
chalked on his back. Bishop, who had just now made a third with Bar and
Ferdinand, but whose innocence had again cut him out of the subject and
washed him in sweet oil, was seen to approach Lord Decimus and glide
into conversation.
'I must get Merdle's doctor to catch and secure him, I suppose,' said
Ferdinand; 'and then I must lay hold of my illustrious kinsman, and
decoy him if I can--drag him if I can't--to the conference.'
'Since you do me the honour,' said Bar, with his slyest smile, to ask
for my poor aid, it shall be yours with the greatest pleasure. I don't
think this is to be done by one man. But if you will undertake to pen
my lord into that furthest drawing-room where he is now so profoundly
engaged, I will undertake to bring our dear Merdle into the presence,
without the possibility of getting away.'
'Done!' said Ferdinand.
'Done!' said Bar.
Bar was a sight wondrous to behold, and full of matter, when, jauntily
waving his double eye-glass by its ribbon, and jauntily drooping to an
Universe of jurymen, he, in the most accidental manner ever seen,
found himself at Mr Merdle's shoulder, and embraced that opportunity of
mentioning a little point to him, on which he particularly wished to
be guided by the light of his practical knowledge. (Here he took Mr
Merdle's arm and walked him gently away.) A banker, whom we would call
A. B., advanced a considerable sum of money, which we would call fifteen
thousand pounds, to a client or customer of his, whom he would call P.
q. (Here, as they were getting towards Lord Decimus, he held Mr Merdle
tight.) As a security for the repayment of this advance to P. Q. whom
we would call a widow lady, there were placed in A. B.'s hands the
title-deeds of a freehold estate, which we would call Blinkiter Doddles.
Now, the point was this. A limited right of felling and lopping in
the woods of Blinkiter Doddles, lay in the son of P. Q. then past his
majority, and whom we would call X. Y.--but really this was too bad! In
the presence of Lord Decimus, to detain the host with chopping our dry
chaff of law, was really too bad! Another time! Bar was truly repentant,
and would not say another syllable. Would Bishop favour him with
half-a-dozen words? (He had now set Mr Merdle down on a couch, side by
side with Lord Decimus, and to it they must go, now or never.)
And now the rest of the company, highly excited and interested, always
excepting Bishop, who had not the slightest idea that anything was going
on, formed in one group round the fire in the next drawing-room, and
pretended to be chatting easily on the infinite variety of small topics,
while everybody's thoughts and eyes were secretly straying towards the
secluded pair. The Chorus were excessively nervous, perhaps as labouring
under the dreadful apprehension that some good thing was going to
be diverted from them! Bishop alone talked steadily and evenly. He
conversed with the great Physician on that relaxation of the throat with
which young curates were too frequently afflicted, and on the means
of lessening the great prevalence of that disorder in the church.
Physician, as a general rule, was of opinion that the best way to avoid
it was to know how to read, before you made a profession of reading.
Bishop said dubiously, did he really think so? And Physician said,
decidedly, yes he did.
Ferdinand, meanwhile, was the only one of the party who skirmished on
the outside of the circle; he kept about mid-way between it and the
two, as if some sort of surgical operation were being performed by Lord
Decimus on Mr Merdle, or by Mr Merdle on Lord Decimus, and his services
might at any moment be required as Dresser. In fact, within a quarter
of an hour Lord Decimus called to him 'Ferdinand!' and he went, and
took his place in the conference for some five minutes more. Then a
half-suppressed gasp broke out among the Chorus; for Lord Decimus rose
to take his leave. Again coached up by Ferdinand to the point of making
himself popular, he shook hands in the most brilliant manner with the
whole company, and even said to Bar, 'I hope you were not bored by my
pears?' To which Bar retorted, 'Eton, my lord, or Parliamentary?' neatly
showing that he had mastered the joke, and delicately insinuating that
he could never forget it while his life remained.
All the grave importance that was buttoned up in Mr Tite Barnacle, took
itself away next; and Ferdinand took himself away next, to the opera.
Some of the rest lingered a little, marrying golden liqueur glasses to
Buhl tables with sticky rings; on the desperate chance of Mr Merdle's
saying something. But Merdle, as usual, oozed sluggishly and muddily
about his drawing-room, saying never a word.
In a day or two it was announced to all the town, that Edmund Sparkler,
Esquire, son-in-law of the eminent Mr Merdle of worldwide renown, was
made one of the Lords of the Circumlocution Office; and proclamation was
issued, to all true believers, that this admirable appointment was to
be hailed as a graceful and gracious mark of homage, rendered by the
graceful and gracious Decimus, to that commercial interest which must
ever in a great commercial country--and all the rest of it, with
blast of trumpet. So, bolstered by this mark of Government homage, the
wonderful Bank and all the other wonderful undertakings went on and went
up; and gapers came to Harley Street, Cavendish Square, only to look at
the house where the golden wonder lived.
And when they saw the Chief Butler looking out at the hall-door in
his moments of condescension, the gapers said how rich he looked, and
wondered how much money he had in the wonderful Bank. But, if they had
known that respectable Nemesis better, they would not have wondered
about it, and might have stated the amount with the utmost precision.