BOOK THE SECOND: RICHES - CHAPTER 2 Mrs General

It is indispensable to present the accomplished lady who was of

sufficient importance in the suite of the Dorrit Family to have a

line to herself in the Travellers' Book.

Mrs General was the daughter of a clerical dignitary in a cathedral

town, where she had led the fashion until she was as near forty-

five as a single lady can be. A stiff commissariat officer of

sixty, famous as a martinet, had then become enamoured of the

gravity with which she drove the proprieties four-in-hand through

the cathedral town society, and had solicited to be taken beside

her on the box of the cool coach of ceremony to which that team was

harnessed. His proposal of marriage being accepted by the lady,

the commissary took his seat behind the proprieties with great

decorum, and Mrs General drove until the commissary died. In the

course of their united journey, they ran over several people who

came in the way of the proprieties; but always in a high style and

with composure.

The commissary having been buried with all the decorations suitable

to the service (the whole team of proprieties were harnessed to his

hearse, and they all had feathers and black velvet housings with

his coat of arms in the corner), Mrs General began to inquire what

quantity of dust and ashes was deposited at the bankers'. It then

transpired that the commissary had so far stolen a march on Mrs

General as to have bought himself an annuity some years before his

marriage, and to have reserved that circumstance in mentioning, at

the period of his proposal, that his income was derived from the

interest of his money. Mrs General consequently found her means so

much diminished, that, but for the perfect regulation of her mind,

she might have felt disposed to question the accuracy of that

portion of the late service which had declared that the commissary

could take nothing away with him.

In this state of affairs it occurred to Mrs General, that she might

'form the mind,' and eke the manners of some young lady of

distinction. Or, that she might harness the proprieties to the

carriage of some rich young heiress or widow, and become at once

the driver and guard of such vehicle through the social mazes. Mrs

General's communication of this idea to her clerical and

commissariat connection was so warmly applauded that, but for the

lady's undoubted merit, it might have appeared as though they

wanted to get rid of her. Testimonials representing Mrs General as

a prodigy of piety, learning, virtue, and gentility, were lavishly

contributed from influential quarters; and one venerable archdeacon

even shed tears in recording his testimony to her perfections

(described to him by persons on whom he could rely), though he had

never had the honour and moral gratification of setting eyes on Mrs

General in all his life.

Thus delegated on her mission, as it were by Church and State, Mrs

General, who had always occupied high ground, felt in a condition

to keep it, and began by putting herself up at a very high figure.

An interval of some duration elapsed, in which there was no bid for

Mrs General. At length a county-widower, with a daughter of

fourteen, opened negotiations with the lady; and as it was a part

either of the native dignity or of the artificial policy of Mrs

General (but certainly one or the other) to comport herself as if

she were much more sought than seeking, the widower pursued Mrs

General until he prevailed upon her to form his daughter's mind and

manners.

The execution of this trust occupied Mrs General about seven years,

in the course of which time she made the tour of Europe, and saw

most of that extensive miscellany of objects which it is essential

that all persons of polite cultivation should see with other

people's eyes, and never with their own. When her charge was at

length formed, the marriage, not only of the young lady, but

likewise of her father, the widower, was resolved on. The widower

then finding Mrs General both inconvenient and expensive, became of

a sudden almost as much affected by her merits as the archdeacon

had been, and circulated such praises of her surpassing worth, in

all quarters where he thought an opportunity might arise of

transferring the blessing to somebody else, that Mrs General was a

name more honourable than ever.

The phoenix was to let, on this elevated perch, when Mr Dorrit, who

had lately succeeded to his property, mentioned to his bankers that

he wished to discover a lady, well-bred, accomplished, well

connected, well accustomed to good society, who was qualified at

once to complete the education of his daughters, and to be their

matron or chaperon. Mr Dorrit's bankers, as bankers of the county-

widower, instantly said, 'Mrs General.'

Pursuing the light so fortunately hit upon, and finding the

concurrent testimony of the whole of Mrs General's acquaintance to

be of the pathetic nature already recorded, Mr Dorrit took the

trouble of going down to the county of the county-widower to see

Mrs General, in whom he found a lady of a quality superior to his

highest expectations.

'Might I be excused,' said Mr Dorrit, 'if I inquired--ha--what

remune--'

'Why, indeed,' returned Mrs General, stopping the word, 'it is a

subject on which I prefer to avoid entering. I have never entered

on it with my friends here; and I cannot overcome the delicacy, Mr

Dorrit, with which I have always regarded it. I am not, as I hope

you are aware, a governess--'

'O dear no!' said Mr Dorrit. 'Pray, madam, do not imagine for a

moment that I think so.' He really blushed to be suspected of it.

Mrs General gravely inclined her head. 'I cannot, therefore, put

a price upon services which it is a pleasure to me to render if I

can render them spontaneously, but which I could not render in mere

return for any consideration. Neither do I know how, or where, to

find a case parallel to my own. It is peculiar.'

No doubt. But how then (Mr Dorrit not unnaturally hinted) could

the subject be approached.

'I cannot object,' said Mrs General--'though even that is

disagreeable to me--to Mr Dorrit's inquiring, in confidence of my

friends here, what amount they have been accustomed, at quarterly

intervals, to pay to my credit at my bankers'.'

Mr Dorrit bowed his acknowledgements.

'Permit me to add,' said Mrs General, 'that beyond this, I can

never resume the topic. Also that I can accept no second or

inferior position. If the honour were proposed to me of becoming

known to Mr Dorrit's family--I think two daughters were

mentioned?--'

'Two daughters.'

'I could only accept it on terms of perfect equality, as a

companion, protector, Mentor, and friend.'

Mr Dorrit, in spite of his sense of his importance, felt as if it

would be quite a kindness in her to accept it on any conditions.

He almost said as much.

'I think,' repeated Mrs General, 'two daughters were mentioned?'

'Two daughters,' said Mr Dorrit again.

'It would therefore,' said Mrs General, 'be necessary to add a

third more to the payment (whatever its amount may prove to be),

which my friends here have been accustomed to make to my bankers'.'

Mr Dorrit lost no time in referring the delicate question to the

county-widower, and finding that he had been accustomed to pay

three hundred pounds a-year to the credit of Mrs General, arrived,

without any severe strain on his arithmetic, at the conclusion that

he himself must pay four. Mrs General being an article of that

lustrous surface which suggests that it is worth any money, he made

a formal proposal to be allowed to have the honour and pleasure of

regarding her as a member of his family. Mrs General conceded that

high privilege, and here she was.

In person, Mrs General, including her skirts which had much to do

with it, was of a dignified and imposing appearance; ample,

rustling, gravely voluminous; always upright behind the

proprieties. She might have been taken--had been taken--to the top

of the Alps and the bottom of Herculaneum, without disarranging a

fold in her dress, or displacing a pin. If her countenance and

hair had rather a floury appearance, as though from living in some

transcendently genteel Mill, it was rather because she was a chalky

creation altogether, than because she mended her complexion with

violet powder, or had turned grey. If her eyes had no expression,

it was probably because they had nothing to express. If she had

few wrinkles, it was because her mind had never traced its name or

any other inscription on her face. A cool, waxy, blown-out woman,

who had never lighted well.

Mrs General had no opinions. Her way of forming a mind was to

prevent it from forming opinions. She had a little circular set of

mental grooves or rails on which she started little trains of other

people's opinions, which never overtook one another, and never got

anywhere. Even her propriety could not dispute that there was

impropriety in the world; but Mrs General's way of getting rid of

it was to put it out of sight, and make believe that there was no

such thing. This was another of her ways of forming a mind--to

cram all articles of difficulty into cupboards, lock them up, and

say they had no existence. It was the easiest way, and, beyond all

comparison, the properest.

Mrs General was not to be told of anything shocking. Accidents,

miseries, and offences, were never to be mentioned before her.

Passion was to go to sleep in the presence of Mrs General, and

blood was to change to milk and water. The little that was left in

the world, when all these deductions were made, it was Mrs

General's province to varnish. In that formation process of hers,

she dipped the smallest of brushes into the largest of pots, and

varnished the surface of every object that came under

consideration. The more cracked it was, the more Mrs General

varnished it.

There was varnish in Mrs General's voice, varnish in Mrs General's

touch, an atmosphere of varnish round Mrs General's figure. Mrs

General's dreams ought to have been varnished--if she had any--

lying asleep in the arms of the good Saint Bernard, with the

feathery snow falling on his house-top.

Read next: BOOK THE SECOND: RICHES#CHAPTER 3 On the Road

Read previous: BOOK THE SECOND: RICHES#CHAPTER 1 Fellow Travellers

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