Charles Dickens - Life And Adventures Of Martin Chuzzlewit

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

“Oh! You needn't trouble your head about ME,” he replied, “Famous!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Quite different,” retorted Jonas.

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

“Not a bit,” said Jonas.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He was very fond of literature,” observed Wolf.

“Was he?” said Tigg.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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