be initiated into the golden mysteries at which he had obscurely glanced. Why should there be cold and worldly secrets, he observed, between relations? What was life without confidence? If the chosen husband of his daughter, the man to whom he had delivered her with so much pride and hope, such bounding and such beaming joy; if he were not a green spot in the barren waste of life, where was that oasis to be bound?
Little did Mr Pecksniff think on what a very green spot he planted one foot at that moment! Little did he foresee when he said, “All is but dust!” how very shortly he would come down with his own!
Inch by inch, in his grudging and ill-conditioned way; sustained to the life, for the hope of making Mr Pecksniff suffer in that tender place, the pocket, where Jonas smarted so terribly himself, gave him an additional and malicious interest in the wiles he was set on to practise; inch by inch, and bit by bit, Jonas rather allowed the dazzling prospects of the Anglo-Bengalee establishment to escape him, than paraded them before his greedy listener. And in the same niggardly spirit, he left Mr Pecksniff to infer, if he chose (which he DID choose, of course), that a consciousness of not having any great natural gifts of speech and manner himself, rendered him desirous to have the credit of introducing to Mr Montague some one who was well endowed in those respects, and so atone for his own deficiencies. Otherwise, he muttered discontentedly, he would have seen his beloved father-in-law “far enough off,” before he would have taken him into his confidence.
Primed in this artful manner, Mr Pecksniff presented himself at dinner-time in such a state of suavity, benevolence, cheerfulness, politeness, and cordiality, as even he had perhaps never attained before. The frankness of the country gentleman, the refinement of the artist, the good-humoured allowance of the man of the world; philanthropy, forbearance, piety, toleration, all blended together in a flexible adaptability to anything and everything; were expressed in Mr Pecksniff, as he shook hands with the great speculator and capitalist.
“Welcome, respected sir,” said Mr Pecksniff, “to our humble village! We are a simple people; primitive clods, Mr Montague; but we can appreciate the honour of your visit, as my dear son-in-law can testify. It is very strange,” said Mr Pecksniff, pressing his hand almost reverentially, “but I seem to know you. That towering forehead, my dear Jonas,” said Mr Pecksniff aside, “and those clustering masses of rich hair—I must have seen you, my dear sir, in the sparkling throng.”
Nothing was more probable, they all agreed.
“I could have wished,” said Mr Pecksniff, “to have had the honour of introducing you to an elderly inmate of our house: to the uncle of our friend. Mr Chuzzlewit, sir, would have been proud indeed to have taken you by the hand.”
“Is the gentleman here now?” asked Montague, turning deeply red. “He is,” said Mr Pecksniff.
“You said nothing about that, Chuzzlewit.”
“I didn't suppose you'd care to hear of it,” returned Jonas. “You wouldn't care to know him, I can promise you.”
“Jonas! my dear Jonas!” remonstrated Mr Pecksniff. “Really!”
“Oh! it's all very well for you to speak up for him,” said Jonas. “You have nailed him. You'll get a fortune by him.”
“Oho! Is the wind in that quarter?” cried Montague. “Ha, ha, ha!” and here they all laughed—especially Mr Pecksniff.
“No, no!” said that gentleman, clapping his son-in-law playfully upon the shoulder. “You must not believe all that my young relative says, Mr Montague. You may believe him in official business, and trust him in official business, but you must not attach importance to his flights of fancy.”
“Upon my life, Mr Pecksniff,” cried Montague, “I attach the greatest importance to that last observation of his. I trust and hope it's true. Money cannot be turned and turned again quickly enough in the ordinary course, Mr Pecksniff. There is nothing like building our fortune on the weaknesses of mankind.”
“Oh fie! oh fie, for shame!” cried Mr Pecksniff. But they all laughed again—especially Mr Pecksniff.
“I give you my honour that WE do it,” said Montague.
“Oh fie, fie!” cried Mr Pecksniff. “You are very pleasant. That I am sure you don't! That I am sure you don't! How CAN you, you know?”
Again they all laughed in concert; and again Mr Pecksniff laughed especially.
This was very agreeable indeed. It was confidential, easy, straight-forward; and still left Mr Pecksniff in the position of being in a gentle way the Mentor of the party. The greatest achievements in the article of cookery that the Dragon had ever performed, were set before them; the oldest and best wines in the Dragon's cellar saw the light on that occasion; a thousand bubbles, indicative of the wealth and station of Mr Montague in the depths of his pursuits, were constantly rising to the surface of the conversation; and they were as frank and merry as three honest men could be. Mr Pecksniff thought it a pity (he said so) that Mr Montague should think lightly of mankind and their weaknesses. He was anxious upon this subject; his mind ran upon it; in one way or another he was constantly coming back to it; he must make a convert of him, he said. And as often as Mr Montague repeated his sentiment about building fortunes on the weaknesses of mankind, and added frankly, “WE do it!” just as often Mr Pecksniff repeated “Oh fie! oh fie, for shame! I am sure you don't. How CAN you, you know?” laying a greater stress each time on those last words.
The frequent repetition of this playful inquiry on the part of Mr Pecksniff, led at last to playful answers on the part of Mr Montague; but after some little sharp-shooting on both sides, Mr Pecksniff became grave, almost to tears; observing that if Mr Montague would give him leave, he would drink the health of his young kinsman, Mr Jonas; congratulating him upon the valuable and distinguished friendship he had formed, but envying him, he would confess, his usefulness to his fellow-creatures. For, if he understood the objects of that Institution with which he was newly and advantageously connected—knowing them but imperfectly—they were calculated to do Good; and for his (Mr Pecksniff's) part, if he could in any way promote them, he thought he would be able to lay his head upon his pillow every night, with an absolute certainty of going to sleep at once.
The transition from this accidental remark (for it was quite accidental and had fallen from Mr Pecksniff in the openness of his soul), to the discussion of the subject as a matter of business, was easy. Books, papers, statements, tables, calculations of various kinds, were soon spread out before them; and as they were all framed with one object, it is not surprising that they should all have tended to one end. But still, whenever Montague enlarged upon the profits of the office, and said that as long as there were gulls upon the wing it must succeed, Mr Pecksniff mildly said “Oh fie!'— and might indeed have remonstrated with him, but that he knew he was joking. Mr Pecksniff did know he was joking; because he said so.
There never had been before, and there never would be again, such an opportunity for the investment of a considerable sum (the rate of advantage increased in proportion to the amount invested), as at that moment. The only time that had at all approached it, was the time when Jonas had come into the concern; which made him ill- natured now, and inclined him to pick out a doubt in this place, and a flaw in that, and grumbling to advise Mr Pecksniff to think better of it. The sum which would complete the proprietorship in this snug concern, was nearly equal to Mr Pecksniff's whole hoard; not counting Mr Chuzzlewit, that is to say, whom he looked upon as money in the Bank, the possession of which inclined him the more to make a dash with his own private sprats for the capture of such a whale as Mr Montague described. The returns began almost immediately, and were immense. The end of it was, that Mr Pecksniff agreed to become the last partner and proprietor in the Anglo-Bengalee, and made an appointment to dine with Mr Montague, at Salisbury, on the next day but one, then and there to complete the negotiation.
It took so long to bring the subject to this head, that it was nearly midnight when they parted. When Mr Pecksniff walked downstairs to the door, he found Mrs Lupin standing there, looking out.
“Ah, my good friend!” he said; “not a-bed yet! Contemplating the stars, Mrs Lupin?”
“It's a beautiful starlight night, sir.”
“A beautiful starlight night,” said Mr Pecksniff, looking up. “Behold the planets, how they shine! Behold the— those two persons who were here this morning have left your house, I hope, Mrs Lupin?”
“Yes, sir. They are gone.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said Mr Pecksniff. “Behold the wonders of the firmament, Mrs Lupin! how glorious is the scene! When I look up at those shining orbs, I think that each of them is winking to the other to take notice of the vanity of men's pursuits. My fellowmen!” cried Mr Pecksniff, shaking his head in pity; “you are much mistaken; my wormy relatives, you are much deceived! The stars are perfectly contented (I suppose so) in their several spheres. Why are not you? Oh! do not strive and struggle to enrich yourselves, or to get the better of each other, my deluded friends, but look up there, with me!”
