Martin Chuzzlewit

capital of the company, there I am at fault; for I have no head for figures, and not being a shareholder, am delicate of showing any curiosity whatever on the subject. Delicacy⁠—your amiable lady will agree with me I am sure⁠—should be one of the first characteristics of a medical man.” (“Nothing can be finer or more gentlemanly than Jobling’s feeling,” thinks the patient.) “Very good, my dear sir, so the matter stands. You don’t know Mr. Montague? I’m sorry for it. A remarkably handsome man, and quite the gentleman in every respect. Property, I am told, in India. House and everything belonging to him, beautiful. Costly furniture on the most elegant and lavish scale. And pictures, which, even in an anatomical point of view, are per⁠—fection. In case you should ever think of doing anything with the company, I’ll pass you, you may depend upon it. I can conscientiously report you a healthy subject. If I understand any man’s constitution, it is yours; and this little indisposition has done him more good, ma’am,” says the doctor, turning to the patient’s wife, “than if he had swallowed the contents of half the nonsensical bottles in my surgery. For they are nonsense⁠—to tell the honest truth, one half of them are nonsense⁠—compared with such a constitution as his!” (“Jobling is the most friendly creature I ever met with in my life,” thinks the patient; “and upon my word and honour, I’ll consider of it!”)

“Commission to you, doctor, on four new policies, and a loan this morning, eh?” said Crimple, looking, when they had finished lunch, over some papers brought in by the porter. “Well done!”

“Jobling, my dear friend,” said Tigg, “long life to you.”

“No, no. Nonsense. Upon my word I’ve no right to draw the commission,” said the doctor, “I haven’t really. It’s picking your pocket. I don’t recommend anybody here. I only say what I know. My patients ask me what I know, and I tell ’em what I know. Nothing else. Caution is my weak side, that’s the truth; and always was from a boy. That is,” said the doctor, filling his glass, “caution in behalf of other people. Whether I would repose confidence in this company myself, if I had not been paying money elsewhere for many years⁠—that’s quite another question.”

He tried to look as if there were no doubt about it; but feeling that he did it but indifferently, changed the theme and praised the wine.

“Talking of wine,” said the doctor, “reminds me of one of the finest glasses of light old port I ever drank in my life; and that was at a funeral. You have not seen anything of⁠—of that party, Mr. Montague, have you?” handing him a card.

“He is not buried, I hope?” said Tigg, as he took it. “The honour of his company is not requested if he is.”

“Ha, ha!” laughed the doctor. “No; not quite. He was honourably connected with that very occasion though.”

“Oh!” said Tigg, smoothing his moustache, as he cast his eyes upon the name. “I recollect. No. He has not been here.”

The words were on his lips, when Bullamy entered, and presented a card to the Medical Officer.

“Talk of the what’s his name,” observed the doctor rising.

“And he’s sure to appear, eh?” said Tigg.

“Why, no, Mr. Montague, no,” returned the doctor. “We will not say that in the present case, for this gentleman is very far from it.”

“So much the better,” retorted Tigg. “So much the more adaptable to the Anglo-Bengalee. Bullamy, clear the table and take the things out by the other door. Mr. Crimple, business.”

“Shall I introduce him?” asked Jobling.

“I shall be eternally delighted,” answered Tigg, kissing his hand and smiling sweetly.

The doctor disappeared into the outer office, and immediately returned with Jonas Chuzzlewit.

“Mr. Montague,” said Jobling. “Allow me. My friend Mr. Chuzzlewit. My dear friend⁠—our chairman. Now do you know,” he added, checking himself with infinite policy, and looking round with a smile: “that’s a very singular instance of the force of example. It really is a very remarkable instance of the force of example. I say our chairman. Why do I say our chairman? Because he is not my chairman, you know. I have no connection with the company, farther than giving them, for a certain fee and reward, my poor opinion as a medical man, precisely as I may give it any day to Jack Noakes or Tom Styles. Then why do I say our chairman? Simply because I hear the phrase constantly repeated about me. Such is the involuntary operation of the mental faculty in the imitative biped man. Mr. Crimple, I believe you never take snuff? Injudicious. You should.”

Pending these remarks on the part of the doctor, and the lengthened and sonorous pinch with which he followed them up, Jonas took a seat at the board; as ungainly a man as ever he has been within the reader’s knowledge. It is too common with all of us, but it is especially in the nature of a mean mind, to be overawed by fine clothes and fine furniture. They had a very decided influence on Jonas.

“Now you two gentlemen have business to discuss, I know,” said the doctor, “and your time is precious. So is mine; for several lives are waiting for me in the next room, and I have a round of visits to make after⁠—after I have taken ’em. Having had the happiness to introduce you to each other, I may go about my business. Goodbye. But allow me, Mr. Montague, before I go, to say this of my friend who sits beside you: That gentleman has done more, sir,” rapping his snuffbox solemnly, “to reconcile me to human nature, than any man alive or dead. Goodbye!”

With these words Jobling bolted abruptly out of the room, and proceeded in his own official department, to impress the lives in waiting with a sense of his keen conscientiousness in the discharge of his duty, and the great difficulty of getting into the Anglo-Bengalee;