“Why, the truth is, my dear,” said Mr. Pecksniff, smiling upon his assembled kindred, “that I am at a loss for a word. The name of those fabulous animals (pagan, I regret to say) who used to sing in the water, has quite escaped me.”
Mr. George Chuzzlewit suggested “swans.”
“No,” said Mr. Pecksniff. “Not swans. Very like swans, too. Thank you.”
The nephew with the outline of a countenance, speaking for the first and last time on that occasion, propounded “Oysters.”
“No,” said Mr. Pecksniff, with his own peculiar urbanity, “nor oysters. But by no means unlike oysters; a very excellent idea; thank you, my dear sir, very much. Wait! Sirens. Dear me! sirens, of course. I think, I say, that means might be devised of disposing our respected relative to listen to the promptings of nature, and not to the siren-like delusions of art. Now we must not lose sight of the fact that our esteemed friend has a grandson, to whom he was, until lately, very much attached, and whom I could have wished to see here today, for I have a real and deep regard for him. A fine young man, a very fine young man! I would submit to you, whether we might not remove Mr. Chuzzlewit’s distrust of us, and vindicate our own disinterestedness by—”
“If Mr. George Chuzzlewit has anything to say to me,” interposed the strong-minded woman, sternly, “I beg him to speak out like a man; and not to look at me and my daughters as if he could eat us.”
“As to looking, I have heard it said, Mrs. Ned,” returned Mr. George, angrily, “that a cat is free to contemplate a monarch; and therefore I hope I have some right, having been born a member of this family, to look at a person who only came into it by marriage. As to eating, I beg to say, whatever bitterness your jealousies and disappointed expectations may suggest to you, that I am not a cannibal, ma’am.”
“I don’t know that!” cried the strong-minded woman.
“At all events, if I was a cannibal,” said Mr. George Chuzzlewit, greatly stimulated by this retort, “I think it would occur to me that a lady who had outlived three husbands, and suffered so very little from their loss, must be most uncommonly tough.”
The strong-minded woman immediately rose.
“And I will further add,” said Mr. George, nodding his head violently at every second syllable; “naming no names, and therefore hurting nobody but those whose consciences tell them they are alluded to, that I think it would be much more decent and becoming, if those who hooked and crooked themselves into this family by getting on the blind side of some of its members before marriage, and manslaughtering them afterwards by crowing over them to that strong pitch that they were glad to die, would refrain from acting the part of vultures in regard to other members of this family who are living. I think it would be full as well, if not better, if those individuals would keep at home, contenting themselves with what they have got (luckily for them) already; instead of hovering about, and thrusting their fingers into, a family pie, which they flavour much more than enough, I can tell them, when they are fifty miles away.”
“I might have been prepared for this!” cried the strong-minded woman, looking about her with a disdainful smile as she moved towards the door, followed by her three daughters. “Indeed I was fully prepared for it from the first. What else could I expect in such an atmosphere as this!”
“Don’t direct your halfpay-officers’ gaze at me, ma’am, if you please,” interposed Miss Charity; “for I won’t bear it.”
This was a smart stab at a pension enjoyed by the strong-minded woman, during her second widowhood and before her last coverture. It told immensely.
“I passed from the memory of a grateful country, you very miserable minx,” said Mrs. Ned, “when I entered this family; and I feel now, though I did not feel then, that it served me right, and that I lost my claim upon the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland when I so degraded myself. Now, my dears, if you’re quite ready, and have sufficiently improved yourselves by taking to heart the genteel example of these two young ladies, I think we’ll go. Mr. Pecksniff, we are very much obliged to you, really. We came to be entertained, and you have far surpassed our utmost expectations, in the amusement you have provided for us. Thank you. Goodbye!”
With such departing words, did this strong-minded female paralyse the Pecksniffian energies; and so she swept out of the room, and out of the house, attended by her daughters, who, as with one accord, elevated their three noses in the air, and joined in a contemptuous titter. As they passed the parlour window on the outside, they were seen to counterfeit a perfect transport of delight among themselves; and with this final blow and great discouragement for those within, they vanished.
Before Mr. Pecksniff or any of his remaining visitors could offer a remark, another figure passed this window, coming, at a great rate in the opposite direction; and immediately afterwards, Mr. Spottletoe burst into the chamber. Compared with his present state of heat, he had gone out a man of snow or ice. His head distilled such oil upon his whiskers, that they were rich and clogged with unctuous drops; his face was violently inflamed, his limbs trembled; and he gasped and strove for breath.
“My good sir!” cried Mr. Pecksniff.
“Oh yes!” returned the other; “oh yes, certainly! Oh to be sure! Oh, of course! You hear him? You hear him? all of you!”
“What’s the matter?” cried several voices.
“Oh nothing!” cried Spottletoe, still gasping. “Nothing at all! It’s of no consequence! Ask him! He’ll tell you!”
“I do not understand our friend,” said Mr. Pecksniff, looking about him in utter amazement. “I assure you that he is quite unintelligible to me.”
“Unintelligible, sir!” cried the other. “Unintelligible! Do you mean
