everything was correctly and freely done. There
isn't any one you'd like to ask to the funeral, is
there ?"

" No, Mr. Jonas, I think not."
" Because if there is, you know," said Jonas,
"ask him. We don't want to make a secret of it."
" No," repeated Mr. Pecksniff, after a little
reflection. " I am not the less obliged to you
on that account, Mr. Jonas, for your liberal
hospitality ; but there really is no one."

" Very well," said Jonas ; " then you, and I,
and Chuffey, and the doctor, will be just a
coachful. We'll have the doctor, Pecksniff, be-
cause he knows what was the matter with him,
and that it couldn't be helped."

"Where is our dear friend, Mr. Chuffey?"
asked Pecksniff, looking round the chamber,
and winking both his eyes at once — for he was
overcome by his feelings.

But here he was interrupted by Mrs. Gamp,
who, divested of her bonnet and shawl, came
sidling and bridling into the room ; and, with
some sharpness, demanded a conference outside
the door with Mr. Pecksniff.

" You may say whatever you wish to say here,
Mrs. Gamp," said that gentleman, shaking his
head with a melancholy expression.

" It is not much as I have to say, when people
is a mourning for the dead and gone," said Mrs.
Gamp ; " but what I have to say is to the pint
and purpose, and no offence intended, must be
so considered. I have been at a many places
in my time, gentlemen, and I hope I knows
what my duties is, and how the same should be



MR. CHUFFEY BECOMES TROUBLESOME TO MRS. GAMP.



163



performed : in course, if I did not, it would be
very strange, and very wrong in sich a gentleman
as Mr. Mould, which has undertook the highest
families in this land, and given every satisfac-
tion, so to recommend me as he does. I have
seen a deal of trouble my own self," said Mrs.
Gamp, laying greater and greater stress upon
her words, "and I can feel for them as has
their feelings tried, but I am not a Rooshan or
a Prooshan, and consequently cannot suffer
Spies to be set over me."

Before it was possible that an answer could
be returned, Mrs. Gamp, growing redder in the
face, went on to say :

" It is not a easy matter, gentlemen, to live
when you are left a widder woman ; particular
when your feelings works upon you to that
extent that you often find yourself a going out,
on terms which is a certain loss, and never can
repay. But, in whatever way you earns your
bread, you may have rules and regulations of
your own, which cannot be broke through.
Some people," said Mrs. Gamp, again entrench-
ing herself behind her strong point, as if it were
not assailable by human ingenuity, "may be
Rooshans, and others may be Prooshans ; they
are born so, and will please themselves. Them
which is of other naturs thinks different."

" If I understand this good lady," said Mr.
Pecksniff, turning to Jonas, " Mr. Chuffey is
troublesome to her. Shall I fetch him down ?"

" Do," said Jonas. " I was going to tell you
he was up there, when she came in. I'd go
myself and bring him down, only — only I'd
rather you went, if you don't mind."

Mr. Pecksniff promptly departed, followed by
Mrs. Gamp, who, seeing that he took a bottle
and glass from the cupboard, and carried it in
his hand, was much softened.

" I am sure," she said, " that if it wasn't for
his own happiness, I should no more mind his
being there, poor dear, than if he was a fly.
But them as isn't used to these things, thinks so
much of 'em afterwards, that it's a kindness to
'em not to let 'em have their wish. And even,"
said Mrs. Gamp, probably in reference to some
flowers of speech she had already strewn on
Mr. Chuffey, " even if one calls 'em names, it's
only done to rouse 'em."

Whatever epithets she had bestowed on the
old clerk, they had not roused him. He sat
beside the bed, in the chair he had occupied
all the previous night, with his hands folded
before him, and his head bowed down ; and
neither looked up, on their entrance, nor gave
any sign of consciousness, until Mr. Pecksniff
took him by the arm, when he meekly rose.



" Three score and ten," said Chuffey, " ought
and carry seven. Some men are so strong that
they live to four score — four times ought's an
ought, four times two's an eight — eighty. Oh !
why — why — why — didn't he live to four times
ought's an ought, and four times two's an eight,
eighty ? "

"Ah! what a wale of grief!" cried Mrs.
Gamp, possessing herself of the bottle and
glass.

" Why did he die before his poor old, crazy
servant ! " said Chuffey, clasping his hands and
looking up in anguish. " Take him from me,
and what remains?"

"Mr. Jonas," returned Pecksniff, " Mr. Jonas,
my good friend."

" I loved him," cried the old man, weeping.
" He was good to me. We learnt Tare and
Tret together, at school. I took him down
once, six boys, in the arithmetic class. God
forgive me ! Had I the heart to take him
down ! "

" Come, Mr. Chuffey," said Pecksniff, " come
with me. Summon up your fortitude, Mr.
Chuffey."

" Yes, I will," returned the old clerk. " Yes.
I'll sum up my forty — How many times forty —
Oh, Chuzzlewit and Son — Your own son, Mr.
Chuzzlewit ; your own son, sir!"

He yielded to the hand that guided him, as
he lapsed into this familiar expression, and sub-
mitted to be led away. Mrs. Gamp, with the
bottle on one knee, and the glass on the other,
sat upon a stool, shaking her head for a long
time, until, in a moment of abstraction, she
poured out a dram of spirits, and raised it to
her lips. It was succeeded by a second, and
by a third, and then her eyes— either in the
sadness of her reflections upon life and death,
or in her admiration of the liquor — were so
turned up, as to be quite invisible. But she
shook her head still.

Poor Chuffey was conducted to his accus-
tomed corner, and there he remained, silent and
quiet, save at long intervals, when he would
rise, and walk about the room, and wring his
hands, or raise some strange and sudden cry.
For a whole week they all three sat about the
hearth and never stirred abroad. Mr. Peck-
sniff would have walked out in the evening time,
but Jonas was so averse to his being absent for
a minute, that he abandoned the idea, and so,
from morning until night, they brooded together
in the dark room, without relief or occupation.

The weight of that which was stretched out,
stiff and stark, in the awful chamber above-
stairs, so crushed and bore down Jonas, that he



164



J I 1 R TIN CHUZZLE WIT



bent beneath the load. During the whole long
seven days and nights, he was always oppressed
and haunted by a dreadful sense of its presence
in the house. Did the door move, he looked
towards it with a livid face and starting eye, as
if he fully believed that ghostly fingers clutched
the handle. Did the fire flicker in a draught of
air, he glanced over his shoulder, as almost
dreading to behold some shrouded figure fan-
ning and flapping at it with its fearful dress.
The lightest noise disturbed him ; and once, in
the night, at the sound of a footstep overhead,
he cried out that the dead man was walking —
tramp, tramp, tramp, — about his coffin.

He lay at night upon a mattress on the floor
of the sitting-room ; his own chamber having
been assigned to Mrs. Gamp ; and Mr. Peck-
sniff was similarly accommodated. The howl-
ing of a dog before the house filled him with a
terror he could not disguise. He avoided the
reflection in the opposite windows of the light
that burned above, as though it had been an
angry eye. He often, in every night, rose up
from his fitful sleep, and looked and longed for
dawn ; all directions and arrangements, even to
the ordering of their daily meals, he abandoned
to Mr. Pecksniff. That excellent gentleman,
deeming that the mourner wanted comfort, and
that high feeding was likely to do him infinite
service, availed himself of these opportunities to
such good purpose that they kept quite a dainty
table during this melancholy season ; with sweet-
breads, stewed kidneys, oysters, and other such
light viands for supper every night ; over which,
and sundry jorums of hot punch, Mr. Pecksniff
delivered such moral reflections and spiritual
consolation as might have converted a Heathen
— especially if he had had but an imperfect
acquaintance with the English tongue.

Nor did Mr. Pecksniff alone indulge in the
creature comforts during this sad time. Mrs.
Gamp proved to be very choice in her eating,
and repudiated hash mutton with scorn. In
her drinking too, she was very punctual and
particular, requiring a pint of mild porter at
lunch, a pint at dinner, half a pint as a species
of stay or holdfast between dinner and tea, and
a pint of the celebrated staggering ale, or Real
Old Brighton Tipper, at supper ; besides the
bottle on the chimney-piece, and such casual
invitations to refresh herself with wine as the
good-breeding of her employers might prompl
them to offer. In like manner, Mr. Mould's
men found it necessary to drown their grief,
like a young kitten in the morning of its exist-
ence ; for which reason they generally fuddled
themselves before they began to do anything,



lest it should make head and get the better of
them. In short, the whole of that strange week
was a round of dismal joviality and grim enjoy-
ment ; and every one, except poor Chuffey, who
came within the shadow of Anthony Chuzzle-
wit's grave, feasted like a Ghoule.

At length the day of the funeral, pious and
truthful ceremony that it was, arrived. Mr.
Mould, with a glass of generous port between
his eye and the light, leaned against the desk in
the little glass office with his gold watch in his
unoccupied hand, and conversed with Mrs.
Gamp ; two mutes were at the house-door, look-
ing as mournful as could be reasonably expected
of men with such a thriving job in hand ; the
whole of Mr. Mould's establishment were on
duty within the house or without ; feathers
waved, horses snorted, silks and velvets flut-
tered : in a word, as Mr. Mould emphatically
said, " everything that money could do was
done."

"And what can do more, Mrs. Gamp?" ex-
claimed the undertaker, as he emptied his glass,
and smacked his lips.

" Nothing in the world, sir."

" Nothing in the world," repeated Mr. Mould.
" You are right, Mrs. Gamp. Why do people
spend more money" — here he filled his glass
again — " upon a death, Mrs. Gamp, than upon
a birth ? Come, that's in your way ; you ought
to know. How do you account for that
now ?"

" Perhaps it is because an undertaker's charges
comes dearer than a nurse's charges, sir," said
Mrs. Gamp, tittering, and smoothing down her
new black dress with her hands.

" Ha, ha!" laughed Mr. Mould. "You have
been breakfasting at somebody's expense this
morning, Mrs. Gamp." But seeing, by the aid
of a little shaving-glass which hung opposite,
that he looked merry, he composed his features
and became sorrowful.

" Many's the time that I've not breakfasted at
my own expense along of your kind recommend-
ing, sir ; and many's the time I hope to do the
same in time to come," said Mrs. Gamp, with
an apologetic curtsey.

" So be it," replied Mr. Mould, " please Pro-
vidence. No, Mrs. Gamp ; I'll tell you why it
is. It's because the laying out of the money
with a well-conducted establishment, where the
thing is performed upon the very best scale,
binds the broken heart, and sheds balm upon
the wounded spirit. Hearts want binding, and
spirits want balmingwhen people die : not when
people are born. Look at this gentleman to-
day j look at him."



THE FUNERAL PERFORMED.



i65



" An open-handed gentleman ! " cried Mrs.
Gamp, with enthusiasm.

" No, no," said the undertaker ; " not an open-
handed gentleman in general, by any means.
There you mistake him: but an afflicted gentle-
man, an affectionate gentleman, who knows what
it is in the power of money to do, in giving him
relief, and in testifying his love and veneration for
the departed. It can give him," said Mr. Mould,
waving his watch-chain slowly round and round,
so that he described one circle after every item ;
" it can give him four horses to each vehicle ;
it can give him velvet trappings ; it can give
him drivers in cloth cloaks and top-boots ; it can
give him the plumage of the ostrich, dyed black ;
it can give him any number of walking attend-
ants, dressed in the first style of funeral fashion,
and carrying batons tipped with brass ; it can
give him a handsome tomb ; it can give him a
place in Westminster Abbey itself, if he choose
to invest it in such a purchase. Oh ! do not
let us say that gold is dross, when it can buy
such things as these, Mrs. Gamp."

" But what a blessing, sir," said Mrs. Gamp,
" that there are such as you, to sell or let 'em
out on hire ! "

" Ay, Mrs. Gamp, you are right," rejoined the
undertaker. " We should be an honoured call-
ing. We do good by stealth, and blush to have
it mentioned in our little bills. How much
consolation may I — even I " — cried Mr. Mould,
" have diffused among my fellow-creatures by
means of my four long-tailed prancers, never
harnessed under ten pund ten !"

Mrs. Gamp had begun to make a suitable
reply, when she was interrupted by the appear-
ance of one of Mr. Mould's assistants — his chief
mourner in fact — an obese person, with his waist-
coat in closer connection with his legs than is
quite reconcilable with the established ideas of
grace : with that cast of feature which is figura-
tively called a bottle-nose ; and with a face
covered all over with pimples. He had been a
tender plant once upon a time, but from con-
stant blowing in the fat atmosphere of funerals,
had run to seed.

" Well, Tacker," said Mr. Mould, " is all ready
below?"

" A beautiful show, sir," rejoined Tacker.
" The horses are prouder and fresher than
ever I see 'em ; and toss their heads, they
do, as if they knowed how much their plumes
cost. One, two, three, four," said Mr. Tacker,
heaping that number of black cloaks upon his
left arm.

" Is Tom there, with the cake and wine?"
asked Mr. Mould.



" Ready to come in at a moment's notice,
sir," said Tacker.

" Then," rejoined Mr. Mould, putting up his
watch, and glancing at himself in the little
shaving-glass, that he might be sure his face had
the right expression on it : " then I think we
may proceed to business. Give me the paper
of gloves, Tacker. Ah what a man he was ! Ah
Tacker, Tacker, what a man he was ! "

Mr. Tacker, who from his great experience in
the performance of funerals, would have made an
excellent pantomime actor, winked at Mrs.
Gamp without at all disturbing the gravity of
his countenance, and followed his master into
the next room.

It was a great point with Mr. Mould, and a
part of his professional tact, not to seem to
know the doctor — though in reality they were
near neighbours, and very often, as in the
present instance, worked together. So he ad-
vanced to fit on his black kid gloves as if he had
never seen him in all his life ; while the doctor,
on his part, looked as distant and unconscious
as if he had heard and read of undertakers, and
had passed their shops, but had never before
been brought into communication with one.

" Gloves, eh?" said the doctor. " Mr. Peck-
sniff, after you."

" I couldn't think of it," returned Mr. Peck-
sniff.

" You are very good," said the doctor, taking
a pair. " Well, sir, as I was saying — I was
called up to attend that case at about half-past
one o'clock. Cake and wine, eh ? which is
port? Thank you."

Mr. Pecksniff took some also.

" At about half-past one o'clock in the morn-
ing, sir," resumed the doctor, " I was called up
to attend that case. At the first pull of the
night-bell I turned out, threw up the window,
and put cut my head. Cloak, eh ? Don't tie
it too tight. That'll do."

Mr. Pecksniff having been likewise inducted
into a similar garment, the doctor resumed.

" And put out my head— hat, eh? My good
friend, that is not mine. Mr. Pecksniff, I beg
your pardon, but I think we have unintentionally
made an exchange. Thank you. Well, sir, I
was going to tell you — "

" We are quite ready," interrupted Mould in
a low voice.

" Ready, eh ?" said the doctor. " Very good.
Mr. Pecksniff, I'll take an opportunity of relating
the rest in the coach. It's rather curious. Ready,
eh ? No rain, I hope?"

" Quite fair, sir," returned Mould.

" I was afraid the ground would have been



1 66



MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT.



wet," said the doctor, " for my glass fell yester-
day. We may congratulate ourselves upon our
good fortune." But seeing by this time that
Mr. Jonas and Chuffey were going out at the
door, he put a white pocket-handkerchief to his
face as if a violent burst of grief had suddenly
come upon him, and walked down side by side
with Mr. Pecksniff.

Mr. Mould and his men had not exaggerated
the grandeur of the arrangements. They were
splendid. The four hearse-horses, especially,
reared and pranced, and showed their highest
action, as if they knew a man was dead, and
triumphed in it. " They break us, drive us,
ride us ; ill-treat, abuse, and maim us for their
pleasure — But they die ; Hurrah, they die ! "

So through the narrow streets and winding
city ways, went Anthony Chuzzlewit's funeral :
Mr. Jonas glancing stealthily out of the coach-
window now and then, to observe its effect
upon the crowd ; Mr. Mould as he walked along,
listening with a sober pride to the exclamations
of the bystanders ; the doctor whispering his
story to Mr. Pecksniff, without appearing to
come any nearer the end of it ; and poor old
Chuffey sobbing unregarded in the corner. But
he had greatly scandalised Mr. Mould at an
early stage of the ceremony by carrying his
handkerchief in his hat in a perfectly informal
manner, and wiping his eyes with his knuckles.
And as Mr. Mould himself had said already, his
behaviour was indecent, and quite unworthy of
such an occasion ; and he never ought to have
been there.

There he was, however ; and in the church-
yard there he was, also, conducting himself in
a no less unbecoming manner, and leaning for
support on Tacker, who plainly told him that
he was fit for nothing better than a walking
funeral. But Chuffey, Heaven help him ! heard
no sound but the echoes, lingering in his own
heart, of a voice for ever silent.

"I loved him," cried the old man, sinking
down upon the grave when all was done. " He
was very good to me. Oh, my dear old friend
and master !"

" Come, come, Mr. Chuffey," said the doctor,
" this won't do ; it's a clayey soil, Mr. Chuffey.
You mustn't really."

" If it had been the commonest thing w<
and Mr. Chuffey had been a Bearer, gentle-
men," said Mould, casting an imploring glance
upon them, as he helped to raise him, "he
couldn't have gone on worse than tin's."

'â–  Be a man, Mr. Chuffey," said Pecksniff.

"Be a gentleman, Mr. Chuffey," said Mould.

"Upon my word, my good friend," murmured



the doctor, in a tone of stately reproof, as he
stepped up to the old man's side, " this is worse
than weakness. This is bad, selfish, very wrong,
Mr. Chuffey. You should take example from
others, my good sir. You forget that you were
not connected by ties of blood with our deceased
friend ; and that he had a very near and very
dear relation. Mr. Chuffey."'

" Ay, his own son ! " cried the old man, clasp-
ing his hands with remarkable passion. " His
own, own, only son !"

" He's not right in his head, you know," said
Jonas, turning pale. " You're not to mind any-
thing he says. I shouldn't wonder if he was to
talk some precious nonsense. But don't, you
mind him, any of you. I don't. My father left
him to my charge ; and whatever he says or
does, that's enough. I'll take care of him."

A hum of admiration rose from the mourners
(including Mr. Mould and his merry men) at
this new instance of magnanimity and kind
feeling on the part of Jonas. But Chuffey put
it to the test no farther. He said not a word
more, and being left to himself for a little while,
crept back again to the coach.

It has been said that Mr. Jonas turned pale
when the behaviour of the old clerk attracted
general attention ; his discomposure, however,
was but momentary, and he soon recovered.
But these were not the only changes he had
exhibited that day. The curious eyes of Mr.
Pecksniff had observed that as soon as they left
the house upon their mournful errand, he began
to mend ; that as the ceremonies proceeded he
gradually, by little and little, recovered his old
condition, his old looks, his old bearing, his old
agreeable characteristics of speech and manner,
and became, in all respects, his old pleasant
self. And now that they were seated in the
coach on their return home ; and more when
they got there, and found the windows open,
the light and air admitted, and all traces of the
late event removed ; he felt so well convinced
that Jonas was again the Jonas he had known a
week ago, and not the Jonas of the intervening
time, that he voluntarily gave up his recently-
acquired power without one faint attempt to
exercise it, and at once fell back into his former
position of mild and deferential guest.

Mrs. Gamp went home to the bird-fancier's,
and was knocked up again that very night for
a birth of twins; Mr. Mould dined gaily in the
bosom of his family, and passed the evening
facetiously at his club ; the hearse, after stand-
ing for a long time at the door of a roystering
public-house, repaired to its stables with the
feathers inside and twelve red-nosed under-



CONCERNING A MARRIAGE PORTION



167



takers on the roof, each holding on by a dingy
peg, to which, in times of state, a waving plume
was fitted ; the various trappings of sorrow
were carefully laid by in presses for the next
hirer ; the fiery steeds were quenched and quiet
in their stalls ; the doctor got merry with wine
at a wedding-dinner, and forgot the middle of
the story which had no end to it ; the pageant
of a few short hours ago was written nowhere
half so legibly as in the undertaker's books.

Not in the churchyard ? Not even there.
The gates were closed ; the night was dark and
wet ; and the rain fell silently among the stag-
nant weeds and nettles. One new mound was
there which had not been last night. Time, bur-
rowing like a mole below the ground, had marked
his track by throwing up another heap of earth.
And that was all.




CHAPTER XX.

IS A CHAPTER OF LOVE.

ECKSNIFF," said Jonas, taking off
his hat, to see that the black crape
band was all right ; and finding
that it was, putting it on again,
complacently ; " what do you mean
to give your daughters when they
marry?"

My dear Mr. Jonas," cried the affec-
tionate parent, with an ingenuous smile, " what
a very singular inquiry ! "

" Now, don't you mind whether it's a singular
inquiry or a plural one," retorted Jonas, eyeing
Mr. Pecksniff with no great favour, " but answer
it, or let it alone. One or the other."

" Hum ! The question, my dear friend," said
Mr. Pecksniff, laying his hand tenderly upon
his kinsman's knee, " is involved with many
considerations. What would I give them?
Eh ? "

"Ah! what would you give 'em?" repeated
Jonas.

"Why, that," said Mr. Pecksniff, "would
naturally depend in a great measure upon the
kind of husbands they might choose, my dear
young friend."

Mr. Jonas was evidently disconcerted, and at
a loss how to proceed. It was a good answer.
It seemed a deep one, but such is the wisdom
of simplicity !

" My standard for the merits I would require
in a son-in-law," said Mr. Pecksniff, after a
short silence, " is a high one. Forgive me, my
dear Mr. Jonas," he added, greatly moved, " if



I say that you have spoiled me, and made it a
fanciful one ; an imaginative one ; a prismati-
cally tinged one, if I may be permitted to call
it so."

" What do you mean by that ?" growled Jonas,
looking at him with increased disfavour.

" Indeed, my dear friend," said Mr. Pecksniff,
" you may well inquire. The heart is not always
a royal mint, with patent machinery, to work its
metal into current coin. Sometimes it throws
it out in strange forms, not easily recognised as
coin at all. But it is sterling gold. It has at
least that merit. It is sterling gold."

"Is it?" grumbled Jonas, with a doubtful
shake of the head.

"Ay!" said Mr. Pecksniff, warming with his
subject, " it is. To be plain with you, Mr.
Jonas, if I could find two such sons-in-law as
you will one day make to some deserving man,
capable of appreciating a nature such as yours,
I would — forgetful of myself — bestow upon my
daughters, portions reaching to the very utmost