Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens (ebooks children's books free TXT) 📕

‘You are the American aloe of the human race, my dear Chiv,’ said Mr Tigg, ‘which only blooms once in a hundred years!’

‘Ha, ha, ha!’ laughed Mr Slyme again. ‘Obliged to two strangers for a tavern bill! I obliged to two architect’s apprentices. Fellows who measure earth with iron chains, and build houses like bricklayers. Give me the names of those two apprentices. How dare they oblige me!’

Mr Tigg was quite lost in admiration of this noble trait in his friend’s character; as he made known to Mr Pinch in a neat little ballet of action, spontaneously invented for the purpose.

‘I’ll let ‘em know, and I’ll let all men know,’ cried Chevy Slyme, ‘that I’m none of the mean, grovelling, tame characters they meet with commonly. I have an independent spirit. I have a heart that swells in my bosom. I have a soul that rises superior to base considerations.’

‘Oh Chiv, Chiv,’ murmured Mr Tigg, ‘you have a nobly independent nature, Chiv!’

‘You go and do your duty, sir,’ said Mr Slyme, angrily, ‘and borrow money for travelling expenses; and whoever you borrow it of, let ‘em know that I possess a haughty spirit, and a proud spirit, and have infernally finely-touched chords in my nature, which won’t brook patronage. Do you hear? Tell ‘em I hate ‘em, and that that’s the way I preserve my self-respect; and tell ‘em that no man ever respected himself more than I do!’

He might have added that he hated two sorts of men; all those who did him favours, and all those who were better off than himself; as in either case their position was an insult to a man of his stupendous merits. But he did not; for with the apt closing words above recited, Mr Slyme; of too haughty a stomach to work, to beg, to borrow, or to steal; yet mean enough to be worked or borrowed, begged or stolen for, by any catspaw that would serve his turn; too insolent to lick the hand that fed him in his need, yet cur enough to bite and tear it in the dark; with these apt closing words Mr Slyme fell forward with his head upon the table, and so declined into a sodden sleep.

‘Was there ever,’ cried Mr Tigg, joining the young men at the door, and shutting it carefully behind him, ‘such an independent spirit as is possessed by that extraordinary creature? Was there ever such a Roman as our friend Chiv? Was there ever a man of such a purely classical turn of thought, and of such a toga-like simplicity of nature? Was there ever a man with such a flow of eloquence? Might he not, gents both, I ask, have sat upon a tripod in the ancient times, and prophesied to a perfectly unlimited extent, if previously supplied with gin-and-water at the public cost?’

Mr Pinch was about to contest this latter position with his usual mildness, when, observing that his companion had already gone downstairs, he prepared to follow him.

‘You are not going, Mr Pinch?’ said Tigg.

‘Thank you,’ answered Tom. ‘Yes. Don’t come down.’

‘Do you know that I should like one little word in private with you Mr Pinch?’ said Tigg, following him. ‘One minute of your company in the skittle-ground would very much relieve my mind. Might I beseech that favour?’

‘Oh, certainly,’ replied Tom, ‘if you really wish it.’ So he accompanied Mr Tigg to the retreat in question; on arriving at which place that gentleman took from his hat what seemed to be the fossil remains of an antediluvian pocket-handkerchief, and wiped his eyes therewith.

‘You have not beheld me this day,’ said Mr Tigg, ‘in a favourable light.’

‘Don’t mention that,’ said Tom, ‘I beg.’

‘But you have NOT,’ cried Tigg. ‘I must persist in that opinion. If you could have seen me, Mr Pinch, at the head of my regiment on the coast of Africa, charging in the form of a hollow square, with the women and children and the regimental plate-chest in the centre, you would not have known me for the same man. You would have respected me, sir.’

Tom had certain ideas of his own upon the subject of glory; and consequently he was not quite so much excited by this picture as Mr Tigg could have desired.

‘But no matter!’ said that gentleman. ‘The school-boy writing home to his parents and describing the milk-and-water, said “This is indeed weakness.” I repeat that assertion in reference to myself at the present moment; and I ask your pardon. Sir, you have seen my friend Slyme?’

‘No doubt,’ said Mr Pinch.

‘Sir, you have been impressed by my friend Slyme?’

‘Not very pleasantly, I must say,’ answered Tom, after a little hesitation.

‘I am grieved but not surprised,’ cried Mr Tigg, detaining him with both hands, ‘to hear that you have come to that conclusion; for it is my own. But, Mr Pinch, though I am a rough and thoughtless man, I can honour Mind. I honour Mind in following my friend. To you of all men, Mr Pinch, I have a right to make appeal on Mind’s behalf, when it has not the art to push its fortune in the world. And so, sir—not for myself, who have no claim upon you, but for my crushed, my sensitive and independent friend, who has—I ask the loan of three half-crowns. I ask you for the loan of three half-crowns, distinctly, and without a blush. I ask it, almost as a right. And when I add that they will be returned by post, this week, I feel that you will blame me for that sordid stipulation.’

Mr Pinch took from his pocket an old-fashioned red-leather purse with a steel clasp, which had probably once belonged to his deceased grandmother. It held one half-sovereign and no more. All Tom’s worldly wealth until next quarter-day.

‘Stay!’ cried Mr Tigg, who had watched this proceeding keenly. ‘I was just about to say, that for the convenience of posting you had better make it gold. Thank you. A general direction, I suppose, to Mr Pinch at Mr Pecksniff’s—will that find you?’

‘That’ll find me,’ said Tom. ‘You had better put Esquire to Mr Pecksniff’s name, if you please. Direct to me, you know, at Seth Pecksniff’s, Esquire.’

‘At Seth Pecksniff’s, Esquire,’ repeated Mr Tigg, taking an exact note of it with a stump of pencil. ‘We said this week, I believe?’

‘Yes; or Monday will do,’ observed Tom.

‘No, no, I beg your pardon. Monday will NOT do,’ said Mr Tigg. ‘If we stipulated for this week, Saturday is the latest day. Did we stipulate for this week?’

‘Since you are so particular about it,’ said Tom, ‘I think we did.’

Mr Tigg added this condition to his memorandum; read the entry over to himself with a severe frown; and that the transaction might be the more correct and business-like, appended his initials to the whole. That done, he assured Mr Pinch that everything was now perfectly regular; and, after squeezing his hand with great fervour, departed.

Tom entertained enough suspicion that Martin might possibly turn this interview into a jest, to render him desirous to avoid the company of that young gentleman for the present. With this view he took a few turns up and down the skittle-ground, and did not re-enter the house until Mr Tigg and his friend had quitted it, and the new pupil and Mark were watching their departure from one of the windows.

‘I was just a-saying, sir, that if one could live by it,’ observed Mark, pointing after their late guests, ‘that would be the sort of service for me. Waiting on such individuals as them would be better than grave-digging, sir.’

‘And staying here would be better than either, Mark,’ replied Tom. ‘So take my advice, and continue to swim easily in smooth water.’

‘It’s too late to take it now, sir,’ said Mark. ‘I have broke it to her, sir. I am off tomorrow morning.’

‘Off!’ cried Mr Pinch, ‘where to?’

‘I shall go up to London, sir.’

‘What to be?’ asked Mr Pinch.

‘Well! I don’t know yet, sir. Nothing turned up that day I opened my mind to you, as was at all likely to suit me. All them trades I thought of was a deal too jolly; there was no credit at all to be got in any of ‘em. I must look for a private service, I suppose, sir. I might be brought out strong, perhaps, in a serious family, Mr Pinch.’

‘Perhaps you might come out rather too strong for a serious family’s taste, Mark.’

‘That’s possible, sir. If I could get into a wicked family, I might do myself justice; but the difficulty is to make sure of one’s ground, because a young man can’t very well advertise that he wants a place, and wages an’t so much an object as a wicked sitivation; can he, sir?’

‘Why, no,’ said Mr Pinch, ‘I don’t think he can.’

‘An envious family,’ pursued Mark, with a thoughtful face; ‘or a quarrelsome family, or a malicious family, or even a good out-and- out mean family, would open a field of action as I might do something in. The man as would have suited me of all other men was that old gentleman as was took ill here, for he really was a trying customer. Howsever, I must wait and see what turns up, sir; and hope for the worst.’

‘You are determined to go then?’ said Mr Pinch.

‘My box is gone already, sir, by the waggon, and I’m going to walk on tomorrow morning, and get a lift by the day coach when it overtakes me. So I wish you good-bye, Mr Pinch—and you too, sir— and all good luck and happiness!’

They both returned his greeting laughingly, and walked home arm-in- arm. Mr Pinch imparting to his new friend, as they went, such further particulars of Mark Tapley’s whimsical restlessness as the reader is already acquainted with.

In the meantime Mark, having a shrewd notion that his mistress was in very low spirits, and that he could not exactly answer for the consequences of any lengthened TETE-A-TETE in the bar, kept himself obstinately out of her way all the afternoon and evening. In this piece of generalship he was very much assisted by the great influx of company into the taproom; for the news of his intention having gone abroad, there was a perfect throng there all the evening, and much drinking of healths and clinking of mugs. At length the house was closed for the night; and there being now no help for it, Mark put the best face he could upon the matter, and walked doggedly to the bar-door.

‘If I look at her,’ said Mark to himself, ‘I’m done. I feel that I’m a-going fast.’

‘You have come at last,’ said Mrs Lupin.

Aye, Mark said: There he was.

‘And you are determined to leave us, Mark?’ cried Mrs Lupin.

‘Why, yes; I am,’ said Mark; keeping his eyes hard upon the floor.

‘I thought,’ pursued the landlady, with a most engaging hesitation, ‘that you had been—fond—of the Dragon?’

‘So I am,’ said Mark.

‘Then,’ pursued the hostess—and it really was not an unnatural inquiry—‘why do you desert it?’

But as he gave no manner of answer to this question; not even on its being repeated; Mrs Lupin put his money into his hand, and asked him—not unkindly, quite the contrary—what he would take?

It is proverbial that there are certain things which flesh and blood cannot bear. Such a question as this, propounded in such a manner, at such