Bleak House by Charles Dickens (ebook reader that looks like a book TXT) 📕

appeared to us that some of them must pass their whole lives in

dealing out subscription-cards to the whole post-office directory—

shilling cards, half-crown cards, half-sovereign cards, penny

cards. They wanted everything. They wanted wearing apparel, they

wanted linen rags, they wanted money, they wanted coals, they

wanted soup, they wanted interest, they wanted autographs, they

wanted flannel, they wanted whatever Mr. Jarndyce had—or had not.

Their objects were as various as their demands. They were going to

raise new buildings, they were going to pay off debts on old

buildings, they were going to establish in a picturesque building

(engraving of proposed west elevation attached) the Sisterhood of

Mediaeval Marys, they were going to give a testimonial to Mrs.

Jellyby, they were going to have their secretary’s portrait painted

and presented to his mother-in-law, whose deep devotion to him was

well known, they were going to get up everything, I really believe,

from five hundred thousand tracts to an annuity and from a marble

monument to a silver tea-pot. They took a multitude of titles.

They were the Women of England, the Daughters of Britain, the

Sisters of all the cardinal virtues separately, the Females of

America, the Ladies of a hundred denominations. They appeared to

be always excited about canvassing and electing. They seemed to

our poor wits, and according to their own accounts, to be

constantly polling people by tens of thousands, yet never bringing

their candidates in for anything. It made our heads ache to think,

on the whole, what feverish lives they must lead.

Among the ladies who were most distinguished for this rapacious

benevolence (if I may use the expression) was a Mrs. Pardiggle, who

seemed, as I judged from the number of her letters to Mr. Jarndyce,

to be almost as powerful a correspondent as Mrs. Jellyby herself.

We observed that the wind always changed when Mrs. Pardiggle became

the subject of conversation and that it invariably interrupted Mr.

Jarndyce and prevented his going any farther, when he had remarked

that there were two classes of charitable people; one, the people

who did a little and made a great deal of noise; the other, the

people who did a great deal and made no noise at all. We were

therefore curious to see Mrs. Pardiggle, suspecting her to be a

type of the former class, and were glad when she called one day

with her five young sons.

She was a formidable style of lady with spectacles, a prominent

nose, and a loud voice, who had the effect of wanting a great deal

of room. And she really did, for she knocked down little chairs

with her skirts that were quite a great way off. As only Ada and I

were at home, we received her timidly, for she seemed to come in

like cold weather and to make the little Pardiggles blue as they

followed.

“These, young ladies,” said Mrs. Pardiggle with great volubility

after the first salutations, “are my five boys. You may have seen

their names in a printed subscription list (perhaps more than one)

in the possession of our esteemed friend Mr. Jarndyce. Egbert, my

eldest (twelve), is the boy who sent out his pocket-money, to the

amount of five and threepence, to the Tockahoopo Indians. Oswald,

my second (ten and a half), is the child who contributed two and

ninepence to the Great National Smithers Testimonial. Francis, my

third (nine), one and sixpence halfpenny; Felix, my fourth (seven),

eightpence to the Superannuated Widows; Alfred, my youngest (five),

has voluntarily enrolled himself in the Infant Bonds of Joy, and is

pledged never, through life, to use tobacco in any form.”

We had never seen such dissatisfied children. It was not merely

that they were weazened and shrivelled—though they were certainly

that too—but they looked absolutely ferocious with discontent. At

the mention of the Tockahoopo Indians, I could really have supposed

Egbert to be one of the most baleful members of that tribe, he gave

me such a savage frown. The face of each child, as the amount of

his contribution was mentioned, darkened in a peculiarly vindictive

manner, but his was by far the worst. I must except, however, the

little recruit into the Infant Bonds of Joy, who was stolidly and

evenly miserable.

“You have been visiting, I understand,” said Mrs. Pardiggle, “at

Mrs. Jellyby’s?”

We said yes, we had passed one night there.

“Mrs. Jellyby,” pursued the lady, always speaking in the same

demonstrative, loud, hard tone, so that her voice impressed my

fancy as if it had a sort of spectacles on too—and I may take the

opportunity of remarking that her spectacles were made the less

engaging by her eyes being what Ada called “choking eyes,” meaning

very prominent—“Mrs. Jellyby is a benefactor to society and

deserves a helping hand. My boys have contributed to the African

project—Egbert, one and six, being the entire allowance of nine

weeks; Oswald, one and a penny halfpenny, being the same; the rest,

according to their little means. Nevertheless, I do not go with

Mrs. Jellyby in all things. I do not go with Mrs. Jellyby in her

treatment of her young family. It has been noticed. It has been

observed that her young family are excluded from participation in

the objects to which she is devoted. She may be right, she may be

wrong; but, right or wrong, this is not my course with MY young

family. I take them everywhere.”

I was afterwards convinced (and so was Ada) that from the ill-conditioned eldest child, these words extorted a sharp yell. He

turned it off into a yawn, but it began as a yell.

“They attend matins with me (very prettily done) at half-past six

o’clock in the morning all the year round, including of course the

depth of winter,” said Mrs. Pardiggle rapidly, “and they are with

me during the revolving duties of the day. I am a School lady, I

am a Visiting lady, I am a Reading lady, I am a Distributing lady;

I am on the local Linen Box Committee and many general committees;

and my canvassing alone is very extensive—perhaps no one’s more

so. But they are my companions everywhere; and by these means they

acquire that knowledge of the poor, and that capacity of doing

charitable business in general—in short, that taste for the sort

of thing—which will render them in after life a service to their

neighbours and a satisfaction to themselves. My young family are

not frivolous; they expend the entire amount of their allowance in

subscriptions, under my direction; and they have attended as many

public meetings and listened to as many lectures, orations, and

discussions as generally fall to the lot of few grown people.

Alfred (five), who, as I mentioned, has of his own election joined

the Infant Bonds of Joy, was one of the very few children who

manifested consciousness on that occasion after a fervid address of

two hours from the chairman of the evening.”

Alfred glowered at us as if he never could, or would, forgive the

injury of that night.

“You may have observed, Miss Summerson,” said Mrs. Pardiggle, “in

some of the lists to which I have referred, in the possession of

our esteemed friend Mr. Jarndyce, that the names of my young family

are concluded with the name of O. A. Pardiggle, F.R.S., one pound.

That is their father. We usually observe the same routine. I put

down my mite first; then my young family enrol their contributions,

according to their ages and their little means; and then Mr.

Pardiggle brings up the rear. Mr. Pardiggle is happy to throw in

his limited donation, under my direction; and thus things are made

not only pleasant to ourselves, but, we trust, improving to

others.”

Suppose Mr. Pardiggle were to dine with Mr. Jellyby, and suppose

Mr. Jellyby were to relieve his mind after dinner to Mr. Pardiggle,

would Mr. Pardiggle, in return, make any confidential communication

to Mr. Jellyby? I was quite confused to find myself thinking this,

but it came into my head.

“You are very pleasantly situated here!” said Mrs. Pardiggle.

We were glad to change the subject, and going to the window,

pointed out the beauties of the prospect, on which the spectacles

appeared to me to rest with curious indifference.

“You know Mr. Gusher?” said our visitor.

We were obliged to say that we had not the pleasure of Mr. Gusher’s

acquaintance.

“The loss is yours, I assure you,” said Mrs. Pardiggle with her

commanding deportment. “He is a very fervid, impassioned speaker—

full of fire! Stationed in a waggon on this lawn, now, which, from

the shape of the land, is naturally adapted to a public meeting, he

would improve almost any occasion you could mention for hours and

hours! By this time, young ladies,” said Mrs. Pardiggle, moving

back to her chair and overturning, as if by invisible agency, a

little round table at a considerable distance with my work-basket

on it, “by this time you have found me out, I dare say?”

This was really such a confusing question that Ada looked at me in

perfect dismay. As to the guilty nature of my own consciousness

after what I had been thinking, it must have been expressed in the

colour of my cheeks.

“Found out, I mean,” said Mrs. Pardiggle, “the prominent point in

my character. I am aware that it is so prominent as to be

discoverable immediately. I lay myself open to detection, I know.

Well! I freely admit, I am a woman of business. I love hard work;

I enjoy hard work. The excitement does me good. I am so

accustomed and inured to hard work that I don’t know what fatigue

is.”

We murmured that it was very astonishing and very gratifying, or

something to that effect. I don’t think we knew what it was

either, but this is what our politeness expressed.

“I do not understand what it is to be tired; you cannot tire me if

you try!” said Mrs. Pardiggle. “The quantity of exertion (which is

no exertion to me), the amount of business (which I regard as

nothing), that I go through sometimes astonishes myself. I have

seen my young family, and Mr. Pardiggle, quite worn out with

witnessing it, when I may truly say I have been as fresh as a

lark!”

If that dark-visaged eldest boy could look more malicious than he

had already looked, this was the time when he did it. I observed

that he doubled his right fist and delivered a secret blow into the

crown of his cap, which was under his left arm.

“This gives me a great advantage when I am making my rounds,” said

Mrs. Pardiggle. “If I find a person unwilling to hear what I have

to say, I tell that person directly, ‘I am incapable of fatigue, my

good friend, I am never tired, and I mean to go on until I have

done.’ It answers admirably! Miss Summerson, I hope I shall have

your assistance in my visiting rounds immediately, and Miss Clare’s

very soon.”

At first I tried to excuse myself for the present on the general

ground of having occupations to attend to which I must not neglect.

But as this was an ineffectual protest, I then said, more

particularly, that I was not sure of my qualifications. That I was

inexperienced in the art of adapting my mind to minds very

differently situated, and addressing them from suitable points of

view. That I had not that delicate knowledge of the heart which

must be essential to such a work. That I had much to learn,

myself, before I could teach others, and that I could not confide

in my good intentions alone. For these reasons