BOOK THE SECOND: RICHES - CHAPTER 12 In which a Great Patriotic Conference is holden

The famous name of Merdle became, every day, more famous in the

land. Nobody knew that the Merdle of such high renown had ever

done any good to any one, alive or dead, or to any earthly thing;

nobody knew that he had any capacity or utterance of any sort in

him, which had ever thrown, for any creature, the feeblest

farthing-candle ray of light on any path of duty or diversion, pain

or pleasure, toil or rest, fact or fancy, among the multiplicity of

paths in the labyrinth trodden by the sons of Adam; nobody had the

smallest reason for supposing the clay of which this object of

worship was made, to be other than the commonest clay, with as

clogged a wick smouldering inside of it as ever kept an image of

humanity from tumbling to pieces. All people knew (or thought they

knew) that he had made himself immensely rich; and, for that reason

alone, prostrated themselves before him, more degradedly and less

excusably than the darkest savage creeps out of his hole in the

ground to propitiate, in some log or reptile, the Deity of his

benighted soul.

Nay, the high priests of this worship had the man before them as a

protest against their meanness. The multitude worshipped on

trust--though always distinctly knowing why--but the officiators at

the altar had the man habitually in their view. They sat at his

feasts, and he sat at theirs. There was a spectre always attendant

on him, saying to these high priests, 'Are such the signs you

trust, and love to honour; this head, these eyes, this mode of

speech, the tone and manner of this man? You are the levers of the

Circumlocution Office, and the rulers of men. When half-a-dozen of

you fall out by the ears, it seems that mother earth can give birth

to no other rulers. Does your qualification lie in the superior

knowledge of men which accepts, courts, and puffs this man? Or, if

you are competent to judge aright the signs I never fail to show

you when he appears among you, is your superior honesty your

qualification?' Two rather ugly questions these, always going

about town with Mr Merdle; and there was a tacit agreement that

they must be stifled. In Mrs Merdle's absence abroad, Mr Merdle

still kept the great house open for the passage through it of a

stream Of visitors. A few of these took affable possession of the

establishment. Three or four ladies of distinction and liveliness

used to say to one another, 'Let us dine at our dear Merdle's next

Thursday. Whom shall we have?' Our dear Merdle would then receive

his instructions; and would sit heavily among the company at table

and wander lumpishly about his drawing-rooms afterwards, only

remarkable for appearing to have nothing to do with the

entertainment beyond being in its way.

The Chief Butler, the Avenging Spirit of this great man's life,

relaxed nothing of his severity. He looked on at these dinners

when the bosom was not there, as he looked on at other dinners when

the bosom was there; and his eye was a basilisk to Mr Merdle. He

was a hard man, and would never bate an ounce of plate or a bottle

of wine. He would not allow a dinner to be given, unless it was up

to his mark. He set forth the table for his own dignity. If the

guests chose to partake of what was served, he saw no objection;

but it was served for the maintenance of his rank. As he stood by

the sideboard he seemed to announce, 'I have accepted office to

look at this which is now before me, and to look at nothing less

than this.' If he missed the presiding bosom, it was as a part of

his own state of which he was, from unavoidable circumstances,

temporarily deprived. just as he might have missed a centre-piece,

or a choice wine-cooler, which had been sent to the Banker's.

Mr Merdle issued invitations for a Barnacle dinner. Lord Decimus

was to be there, Mr Tite Barnacle was to be there, the pleasant

young Barnacle was to be there; and the Chorus of Parliamentary

Barnacles who went about the provinces when the House was up,

warbling the praises of their Chief, were to be represented there.

It was understood to be a great occasion. Mr Merdle was going to

take up the Barnacles. Some delicate little negotiations had

occurred between him and the noble Decimus--the young Barnacle of

engaging manners acting as negotiator--and Mr Merdle had decided to

cast the weight of his great probity and great riches into the

Barnacle scale. jobbery was suspected by the malicious; perhaps

because it was indisputable that if the adherence of the immortal

Enemy of Mankind could have been secured by a job, the Barnacles

would have jobbed him--for the good of the country, for the good of

the country.

Mrs Merdle had written to this magnificent spouse of hers, whom it

was heresy to regard as anything less than all the British

Merchants since the days of Whittington rolled into one, and gilded

three feet deep all over--had written to this spouse of hers,

several letters from Rome, in quick succession, urging upon him

with importunity that now or never was the time to provide for

Edmund Sparkler. Mrs Merdle had shown him that the case of Edmund

was urgent, and that infinite advantages might result from his

having some good thing directly. In the grammar of Mrs Merdle's

verbs on this momentous subject, there was only one mood, the

Imperative; and that Mood had only one Tense, the Present. Mrs

Merdle's verbs were so pressingly presented to Mr Merdle to

conjugate, that his sluggish blood and his long coat-cuffs became

quite agitated.

In which state of agitation, Mr Merdle, evasively rolling his eyes

round the Chief Butler's shoes without raising them to the index of

that stupendous creature's thoughts, had signified to him his

intention of giving a special dinner: not a very large dinner, but

a very special dinner. The Chief Butler had signified, in return,

that he had no objection to look on at the most expensive thing in

that way that could be done; and the day of the dinner was now

come.

Mr Merdle stood in one of his drawing-rooms, with his back to the

fire, waiting for the arrival of his important guests. He seldom

or never took the liberty of standing with his back to the fire

unless he was quite alone. In the presence of the Chief Butler, he

could not have done such a deed. He would have clasped himself by

the wrists in that constabulary manner of his, and have paced up

and down the hearthrug, or gone creeping about among the rich

objects of furniture, if his oppressive retainer had appeared in

the room at that very moment. The sly shadows which seemed to dart

out of hiding when the fire rose, and to dart back into it when the

fire fell, were sufficient witnesses of his making himself so easy.

They were even more than sufficient, if his uncomfortable glances

at them might be taken to mean anything.

Mr Merdle's right hand was filled with the evening paper, and the

evening paper was full of Mr Merdle. His wonderful enterprise, his

wonderful wealth, his wonderful Bank, were the fattening food of

the evening paper that night. The wonderful Bank, of which he was

the chief projector, establisher, and manager, was the latest of

the many Merdle wonders. So modest was Mr Merdle withal, in the

midst of these splendid achievements, that he looked far more like

a man in possession of his house under a distraint, than a

commercial Colossus bestriding his own hearthrug, while the little

ships were sailing into dinner.

Behold the vessels coming into port! The engaging young Barnacle

was the first arrival; but Bar overtook him on the staircase. Bar,

strengthened as usual with his double eye-glass and his little jury

droop, was overjoyed to see the engaging young Barnacle; and opined

that we were going to sit in Banco, as we lawyers called it, to

take a special argument?

'Indeed,' said the sprightly young Barnacle, whose name was

Ferdinand; 'how so?'

'Nay,' smiled Bar. 'If you don't know, how can I know? You are in

the innermost sanctuary of the temple; I am one of the admiring

concourse on the plain without.'

Bar could be light in hand, or heavy in hand, according to the

customer he had to deal with. With Ferdinand Barnacle he was

gossamer. Bar was likewise always modest and self-depreciatory--in

his way. Bar was a man of great variety; but one leading thread

ran through the woof of all his patterns. Every man with whom he

had to do was in his eyes a jury-man; and he must get that jury-man

over, if he could.

'Our illustrious host and friend,' said Bar; 'our shining

mercantile star;--going into politics?'

'Going? He has been in Parliament some time, you know,' returned

the engaging young Barnacle.

'True,' said Bar, with his light-comedy laugh for special jury-men,

which was a very different thing from his low-comedy laugh for

comic tradesmen on common juries: 'he has been in Parliament for

some time. Yet hitherto our star has been a vacillating and

wavering star? Humph?'

An average witness would have been seduced by the Humph? into an

affirmative answer, But Ferdinand Barnacle looked knowingly at Bar

as he strolled up-stairs, and gave him no answer at all.

'Just so, just so,' said Bar, nodding his head, for he was not to

be put off in that way, 'and therefore I spoke of our sitting in

Banco to take a special argument--meaning this to be a high and

solemn occasion, when, as Captain Macheath says, "the judges are

met: a terrible show!" We lawyers are sufficiently liberal, you

see, to quote the Captain, though the Captain is severe upon us.

Nevertheless, I think I could put in evidence an admission of the

Captain's,' said Bar, with a little jocose roll of his head; for,

in his legal current of speech, he always assumed the air of

rallying himself with the best grace in the world; 'an admission of

the Captain's that Law, in the gross, is at least intended to be

impartial. For what says the Captain, if I quote him correctly--

and if not,' with a light-comedy touch of his double eye-glass on

his companion's shoulder, 'my learned friend will set me right:

"Since laws were made for every degree,

To curb vice in others as well as in me,

I wonder we ha'n't better company

Upon Tyburn Tree!"'

These words brought them to the drawing-room, where Mr Merdle stood

before the fire. So immensely astounded was Mr Merdle by the

entrance of Bar with such a reference in his mouth, that Bar

explained himself to have been quoting Gay. 'Assuredly not one of

our Westminster Hall authorities,' said he, 'but still no

despicable one to a man possessing the largely-practical Mr

Merdle's knowledge of the world.'

Mr Merdle looked as if he thought he would say something, but

subsequently looked as if he thought he wouldn't. The interval

afforded time for Bishop to be announced.

Bishop came in with meekness, and yet with a strong and rapid step

as if he wanted to get his seven-league dress-shoes on, and go

round the world to see that everybody was in a satisfactory state.

Bishop had no idea that there was anything significant in the

occasion. That was the most remarkable trait in his demeanour. He

was crisp, fresh, cheerful, affable, bland; but so surprisingly

innocent.

Bar sidled up to prefer his politest inquiries in reference to the

health of Mrs Bishop. Mrs Bishop had been a little unfortunate in

the article of taking cold at a Confirmation, but otherwise was

well. Young Mr Bishop was also well. He was down, with his young

wife and little family, at his Cure of Souls. The representatives

of the Barnacle Chorus dropped in next, and Mr Merdle's physician

dropped in next. Bar, who had a bit of one eye and a bit of his

double eye-glass for every one who came in at the door, no matter

with whom he was conversing or what he was talking about, got among

them all by some skilful means, without being seen to get at them,

and touched each individual gentleman of the jury on his own

individual favourite spot. With some of the Chorus, he laughed

about the sleepy member who had gone out into the lobby the other

night, and voted the wrong way: with others, he deplored that

innovating spirit in the time which could not even be prevented

from taking an unnatural interest in the public service and the

public money: with the physician he had a word to say about the

general health; he had also a little information to ask him for,

concerning a professional man of unquestioned erudition and

polished manners--but those credentials in their highest

development he believed were the possession of other professors of

the healing art (jury droop)--whom he had happened to have in the

witness-box the day before yesterday, and from whom he had elicited

in cross-examination that he claimed to be one of the exponents of

this new mode of treatment which appeared to Bar to--eh?--well, Bar

thought so; Bar had thought, and hoped, Physician would tell him

so. Without presuming to decide where doctors disagreed, it did

appear to Bar, viewing it as a question of common sense and not of

so-called legal penetration, that this new system was--might be, in

the presence of so great an authority--say, Humbug? Ah! Fortified

by such encouragement, he could venture to say Humbug; and now

Bar's mind was relieved.

Mr Tite Barnacle, who, like Dr johnson's celebrated acquaintance,

had only one idea in his head and that was a wrong one, had

appeared by this time. This eminent gentleman and Mr Merdle,

seated diverse ways and with ruminating aspects on a yellow ottoman

in the light of the fire, holding no verbal communication with each

other, bore a strong general resemblance to the two cows in the

Cuyp picture over against them.

But now, Lord Decimus arrived. The Chief Butler, who up to this

time had limited himself to a branch of his usual function by

looking at the company as they entered (and that, with more of

defiance than favour), put himself so far out of his way as to come

up-stairs with him and announce him. Lord Decimus being an

overpowering peer, a bashful young member of the Lower House who

was the last fish but one caught by the Barnacles, and who had been

invited on this occasion to commemorate his capture, shut his eyes

when his Lordship came in.

Lord Decimus, nevertheless, was glad to see the Member. He was

also glad to see Mr Merdle, glad to see Bishop, glad to see Bar,

glad to see Physician, glad to see Tite Barnacle, glad to see

Chorus, glad to see Ferdinand his private secretary. Lord Decimus,

though one of the greatest of the earth, was not remarkable for

ingratiatory manners, and Ferdinand had coached him up to the point

of noticing all the fellows he might find there, and saying he was

glad to see them. When he had achieved this rush of vivacity and

condescension, his Lordship composed himself into the picture after

Cuyp, and made a third cow in the group.

Bar, who felt that he had got all the rest of the jury and must now

lay hold of the Foreman, soon came sidling up, double eye-glass in

hand. Bar tendered the weather, as a subject neatly aloof from

official reserve, for the Foreman's consideration. Bar said that

he was told (as everybody always is told, though who tells them,

and why, will ever remain a mystery), that there was to be no wall-

fruit this year. Lord Decimus had not heard anything amiss of his

peaches, but rather believed, if his people were correct, he was to

have no apples. No apples? Bar was lost in astonishment and

concern. It would have been all one to him, in reality, if there

had not been a pippin on the surface of the earth, but his show of

interest in this apple question was positively painful. Now, to

what, Lord Decimus--for we troublesome lawyers loved to gather

information, and could never tell how useful it might prove to us--

to what, Lord Decimus, was this to be attributed? Lord Decimus

could not undertake to propound any theory about it. This might

have stopped another man; but Bar, sticking to him fresh as ever,

said, 'As to pears, now?'

Long after Bar got made Attorney-General, this was told of him as

a master-stroke. Lord Decimus had a reminiscence about a pear-tree

formerly growing in a garden near the back of his dame's house at

Eton, upon which pear-tree the only joke of his life perennially

bloomed. It was a joke of a compact and portable nature, turning

on the difference between Eton pears and Parliamentary pairs; but

it was a joke, a refined relish of which would seem to have

appeared to Lord Decimus impossible to be had without a thorough

and intimate acquaintance with the tree. Therefore, the story at

first had no idea of such a tree, sir, then gradually found it in

winter, carried it through the changing season, saw it bud, saw it

blossom, saw it bear fruit, saw the fruit ripen; in short,

cultivated the tree in that diligent and minute manner before it

got out of the bed-room window to steal the fruit, that many thanks

had been offered up by belated listeners for the trees having been

planted and grafted prior to Lord Decimus's time. Bar's interest

in apples was so overtopped by the wrapt suspense in which he

pursued the changes of these pears, from the moment when Lord

Decimus solemnly opened with 'Your mentioning pears recalls to my

remembrance a pear-tree,' down to the rich conclusion, 'And so we

pass, through the various changes of life, from Eton pears to

Parliamentary pairs,' that he had to go down-stairs with Lord

Decimus, and even then to be seated next to him at table in order

that he might hear the anecdote out. By that time, Bar felt that

he had secured the Foreman, and might go to dinner with a good

appetite.

It was a dinner to provoke an appetite, though he had not had one.

The rarest dishes, sumptuously cooked and sumptuously served; the

choicest fruits; the most exquisite wines; marvels of workmanship

in gold and silver, china and glass; innumerable things delicious

to the senses of taste, smell, and sight, were insinuated into its

composition. O, what a wonderful man this Merdle, what a great

man, what a master man, how blessedly and enviably endowed--in one

word, what a rich man!

He took his usual poor eighteenpennyworth of food in his usual

indigestive way, and had as little to say for himself as ever a

wonderful man had. Fortunately Lord Decimus was one of those

sublimities who have no occasion to be talked to, for they can be

at any time sufficiently occupied with the contemplation of their

own greatness. This enabled the bashful young Member to keep his

eyes open long enough at a time to see his dinner. But, whenever

Lord Decimus spoke, he shut them again.

The agreeable young Barnacle, and Bar, were the talkers of the

party. Bishop would have been exceedingly agreeable also, but that

his innocence stood in his way. He was so soon left behind. When

there was any little hint of anything being in the wind, he got

lost directly. Worldly affairs were too much for him; he couldn't

make them out at all.

This was observable when Bar said, incidentally, that he was happy

to have heard that we were soon to have the advantage of enlisting

on the good side, the sound and plain sagacity--not demonstrative

or ostentatious, but thoroughly sound and practical--of our friend

Mr Sparkler.

Ferdinand Barnacle laughed, and said oh yes, he believed so. A

vote was a vote, and always acceptable.

Bar was sorry to miss our good friend Mr Sparkler to-day, Mr

Merdle.

'He is away with Mrs Merdle,' returned that gentleman, slowly

coming out of a long abstraction, in the course of which he had

been fitting a tablespoon up his sleeve. 'It is not indispensable

for him to be on the spot.'

'The magic name of Merdle,' said Bar, with the jury droop, 'no

doubt will suffice for all.'

'Why--yes--I believe so,' assented Mr Merdle, putting the spoon

aside, and clumsily hiding each of his hands in the coat-cuff of

the other hand. 'I believe the people in my interest down there

will not make any difficulty.'

'Model people!' said Bar.

'I am glad you approve of them,' said Mr Merdle.

'And the people of those other two places, now,' pursued Bar, with

a bright twinkle in his keen eye, as it slightly turned in the

direction of his magnificent neighbour; 'we lawyers are always

curious, always inquisitive, always picking up odds and ends for

our patchwork minds, since there is no knowing when and where they

may fit into some corner;--the people of those other two places

now? Do they yield so laudably to the vast and cumulative

influence of such enterprise and such renown; do those little rills

become absorbed so quietly and easily, and, as it were by the

influence of natural laws, so beautifully, in the swoop of the

majestic stream as it flows upon its wondrous way enriching the

surrounding lands; that their course is perfectly to be calculated,

and distinctly to be predicated?'

Mr Merdle, a little troubled by Bar's eloquence, looked fitfully

about the nearest salt-cellar for some moments, and then said

hesitating:

'They are perfectly aware, sir, of their duty to Society. They

will return anybody I send to them for that purpose.'

'Cheering to know,' said Bar. 'Cheering to know.'

The three places in question were three little rotten holes in this

Island, containing three little ignorant, drunken, guzzling, dirty,

out-of-the-way constituencies, that had reeled into Mr Merdle's

pocket. Ferdinand Barnacle laughed in his easy way, and airily

said they were a nice set of fellows. Bishop, mentally

perambulating among paths of peace, was altogether swallowed up in

absence of mind.

'Pray,' asked Lord Decimus, casting his eyes around the table,

'what is this story I have heard of a gentleman long confined in a

debtors' prison proving to be of a wealthy family, and having come

into the inheritance of a large sum of money? I have met with a

variety of allusions to it. Do you know anything of it,

Ferdinand?'

'I only know this much,' said Ferdinand, 'that he has given the

Department with which I have the honour to be associated;' this

sparkling young Barnacle threw off the phrase sportively, as who

should say, We know all about these forms of speech, but we must

keep it up, we must keep the game alive; 'no end of trouble, and

has put us into innumerable fixes.'

'Fixes?' repeated Lord Decimus, with a majestic pausing and

pondering on the word that made the bashful Member shut his eyes

quite tight. 'Fixes?'

'A very perplexing business indeed,' observed Mr Tite Barnacle,

with an air of grave resentment.

'What,' said Lord Decimus, 'was the character of his business; what

was the nature of these--a--Fixes, Ferdinand?'

'Oh, it's a good story, as a story,' returned that gentleman; 'as

good a thing of its kind as need be. This Mr Dorrit (his name is

Dorrit) had incurred a responsibility to us, ages before the fairy

came out of the Bank and gave him his fortune, under a bond he had

signed for the performance of a contract which was not at all

performed. He was a partner in a house in some large way--spirits,

or buttons, or wine, or blacking, or oatmeal, or woollen, or pork,

or hooks and eyes, or iron, or treacle, or shoes, or something or

other that was wanted for troops, or seamen, or somebody--and the

house burst, and we being among the creditors, detainees were

lodged on the part of the Crown in a scientific manner, and all the

rest Of it. When the fairy had appeared and he wanted to pay us

off, Egad we had got into such an exemplary state of checking and

counter-checking, signing and counter-signing, that it was six

months before we knew how to take the money, or how to give a

receipt for it. It was a triumph of public business,' said this

handsome young Barnacle, laughing heartily, 'You never saw such a

lot of forms in your life. "Why," the attorney said to me one day,

"if I wanted this office to give me two or three thousand pounds

instead of take it, I couldn't have more trouble about it." "You

are right, old fellow," I told him, "and in future you'll know that

we have something to do here."' The pleasant young Barnacle

finished by once more laughing heartily. He was a very easy,

pleasant fellow indeed, and his manners were exceedingly winning.

Mr Tite Barnacle's view of the business was of a less airy

character. He took it ill that Mr Dorrit had troubled the

Department by wanting to pay the money, and considered it a grossly

informal thing to do after so many years. But Mr Tite Barnacle was

a buttoned-up man, and consequently a weighty one. All buttoned-up

men are weighty. All buttoned-up men are believed in. Whether or

no the reserved and never-exercised power of unbuttoning,

fascinates mankind; whether or no wisdom is supposed to condense

and augment when buttoned up, and to evaporate when unbuttoned; it

is certain that the man to whom importance is accorded is the

buttoned-up man. Mr Tite Barnacle never would have passed for half

his current value, unless his coat had been always buttoned-up to

his white cravat.

'May I ask,' said Lord Decimus, 'if Mr Darrit--or Dorrit--has any

family?'

Nobody else replying, the host said, 'He has two daughters, my

lord.'

'Oh! you are acquainted with him?' asked Lord Decimus.

'Mrs Merdle is. Mr Sparkler is, too. In fact,' said Mr Merdle, 'I

rather believe that one of the young ladies has made an impression

on Edmund Sparkler. He is susceptible, and--I--think--the

conquest--' Here Mr Merdle stopped, and looked at the table-cloth,

as he usually did when he found himself observed or listened to.

Bar was uncommonly pleased to find that the Merdle family, and this

family, had already been brought into contact. He submitted, in a

low voice across the table to Bishop, that it was a kind of

analogical illustration of those physical laws, in virtue of which

Like flies to Like. He regarded this power of attraction in wealth

to draw wealth to it, as something remarkably interesting and

curious--something indefinably allied to the loadstone and

gravitation. Bishop, who had ambled back to earth again when the

present theme was broached, acquiesced. He said it was indeed

highly important to Society that one in the trying situation of

unexpectedly finding himself invested with a power for good or for

evil in Society, should become, as it were, merged in the superior

power of a more legitimate and more gigantic growth, the influence

of which (as in the case of our friend at whose board we sat) was

habitually exercised in harmony with the best interests of Society.

Thus, instead of two rival and contending flames, a larger and a

lesser, each burning with a lurid and uncertain glare, we had a

blended and a softened light whose genial ray diffused an equable

warmth throughout the land. Bishop seemed to like his own way of

putting the case very much, and rather dwelt upon it; Bar,

meanwhile (not to throw away a jury-man), making a show of sitting

at his feet and feeding on his precepts.

The dinner and dessert being three hours long, the bashful Member

cooled in the shadow of Lord Decimus faster than he warmed with

food and drink, and had but a chilly time of it. Lord Decimus,

like a tall tower in a flat country, seemed to project himself

across the table-cloth, hide the light from the honourable Member,

cool the honourable Member's marrow, and give him a woeful idea of

distance. When he asked this unfortunate traveller to take wine,

he encompassed his faltering steps with the gloomiest of shades;

and when he said, 'Your health sir!' all around him was barrenness

and desolation.

At length Lord Decimus, with a coffee-cup in his hand, began to

hover about among the pictures, and to cause an interesting

speculation to arise in all minds as to the probabilities of his

ceasing to hover, and enabling the smaller birds to flutter up-

stairs; which could not be done until he had urged his noble

pinions in that direction. After some delay, and several stretches

of his wings which came to nothing, he soared to the drawing-rooms.

And here a difficulty arose, which always does arise when two

people are specially brought together at a dinner to confer with

one another. Everybody (except Bishop, who had no suspicion of it)

knew perfectly well that this dinner had been eaten and drunk,

specifically to the end that Lord Decimus and Mr Merdle should have

five minutes' conversation together. The opportunity so

elaborately prepared was now arrived, and it seemed from that

moment that no mere human ingenuity could so much as get the two

chieftains into the same room. Mr Merdle and his noble guest

persisted in prowling about at opposite ends of the perspective.

It was in vain for the engaging Ferdinand to bring Lord Decimus to

look at the bronze horses near Mr Merdle. Then Mr Merdle evaded,

and wandered away. It was in vain for him to bring Mr Merdle to

Lord Decimus to tell him the history of the unique Dresden vases.

Then Lord Decimus evaded and wandered away, while he was getting

his man up to the mark.

'Did you ever see such a thing as this?' said Ferdinand to Bar when

he had been baffled twenty times.

'Often,' returned Bar.

'Unless I butt one of them into an appointed corner, and you butt

the other,' said Ferdinand,'it will not come off after all.'

'Very good,' said Bar. 'I'll butt Merdle, if you like; but not my

lord.'

Ferdinand laughed, in the midst of his vexation. 'Confound them

both!' said he, looking at his watch. 'I want to get away. Why

the deuce can't they come together! They both know what they want

and mean to do. Look at them!'

They were still looming at opposite ends of the perspective, each

with an absurd pretence of not having the other on his mind, which

could not have been more transparently ridiculous though his real

mind had been chalked on his back. Bishop, who had just now made

a third with Bar and Ferdinand, but whose innocence had again cut

him out of the subject and washed him in sweet oil, was seen to

approach Lord Decimus and glide into conversation.

'I must get Merdle's doctor to catch and secure him, I suppose,'

said Ferdinand; 'and then I must lay hold of my illustrious

kinsman, and decoy him if I can--drag him if I can't--to the

conference.'

'Since you do me the honour,' said Bar, with his slyest smile, to

ask for my poor aid, it shall be yours with the greatest pleasure.

I don't think this is to be done by one man. But if you will

undertake to pen my lord into that furthest drawing-room where he

is now so profoundly engaged, I will undertake to bring our dear

Merdle into the presence, without the possibility of getting away.'

'Done!' said Ferdinand.

'Done!' said Bar.

Bar was a sight wondrous to behold, and full of matter, when,

jauntily waving his double eye-glass by its ribbon, and jauntily

drooping to an Universe of jurymen, he, in the most accidental

manner ever seen, found himself at Mr Merdle's shoulder, and

embraced that opportunity of mentioning a little point to him, on

which he particularly wished to be guided by the light of his

practical knowledge. (Here he took Mr Merdle's arm and walked him

gently away.) A banker, whom we would call A. B., advanced a

considerable sum of money, which we would call fifteen thousand

pounds, to a client or customer of his, whom he would call P. q.

(Here, as they were getting towards Lord Decimus, he held Mr Merdle

tight.) As a security for the repayment of this advance to P. Q.

whom we would call a widow lady, there were placed in A. B.'s hands

the title-deeds of a freehold estate, which we would call Blinkiter

Doddles. Now, the point was this. A limited right of felling and

lopping in the woods of Blinkiter Doddles, lay in the son of P. Q.

then past his majority, and whom we would call X. Y.--but really

this was too bad! In the presence of Lord Decimus, to detain the

host with chopping our dry chaff of law, was really too bad!

Another time! Bar was truly repentant, and would not say another

syllable. Would Bishop favour him with half-a-dozen words? (He

had now set Mr Merdle down on a couch, side by side with Lord

Decimus, and to it they must go, now or never.)

And now the rest of the company, highly excited and interested,

always excepting Bishop, who had not the slightest idea that

anything was going on, formed in one group round the fire in the

next drawing-room, and pretended to be chatting easily on the

infinite variety of small topics, while everybody's thoughts and

eyes were secretly straying towards the secluded pair. The Chorus

were excessively nervous, perhaps as labouring under the dreadful

apprehension that some good thing was going to be diverted from

them! Bishop alone talked steadily and evenly. He conversed with

the great Physician on that relaxation of the throat with which

young curates were too frequently afflicted, and on the means of

lessening the great prevalence of that disorder in the church.

Physician, as a general rule, was of opinion that the best way to

avoid it was to know how to read, before you made a profession of

reading. Bishop said dubiously, did he really think so? And

Physician said, decidedly, yes he did.

Ferdinand, meanwhile, was the only one of the party who skirmished

on the outside of the circle; he kept about mid-way between it and

the two, as if some sort of surgical operation were being performed

by Lord Decimus on Mr Merdle, or by Mr Merdle on Lord Decimus, and

his services might at any moment be required as Dresser. In fact,

within a quarter of an hour Lord Decimus called to him 'Ferdinand!'

and he went, and took his place in the conference for some five

minutes more. Then a half-suppressed gasp broke out among the

Chorus; for Lord Decimus rose to take his leave. Again coached up

by Ferdinand to the point of making himself popular, he shook hands

in the most brilliant manner with the whole company, and even said

to Bar, 'I hope you were not bored by my pears?' To which Bar

retorted, 'Eton, my lord, or Parliamentary?' neatly showing that he

had mastered the joke, and delicately insinuating that he could

never forget it while his life remained.

All the grave importance that was buttoned up in Mr Tite Barnacle,

took itself away next; and Ferdinand took himself away next, to the

opera. Some of the rest lingered a little, marrying golden liqueur

glasses to Buhl tables with sticky rings; on the desperate chance

of Mr Merdle's saying something. But Merdle, as usual, oozed

sluggishly and muddily about his drawing-room, saying never a word.

In a day or two it was announced to all the town, that Edmund

Sparkler, Esquire, son-in-law of the eminent Mr Merdle of worldwide

renown, was made one of the Lords of the Circumlocution Office; and

proclamation was issued, to all true believers, that this admirable

appointment was to be hailed as a graceful and gracious mark of

homage, rendered by the graceful and gracious Decimus, to that

commercial interest which must ever in a great commercial country--

and all the rest of it, with blast of trumpet. So, bolstered by

this mark of Government homage, the wonderful Bank and all the

other wonderful undertakings went on and went up; and gapers came

to Harley Street, Cavendish Square, only to look at the house where

the golden wonder lived.

And when they saw the Chief Butler looking out at the hall-door in

his moments of condescension, the gapers said how rich he looked,

and wondered how much money he had in the wonderful Bank. But, if

they had known that respectable Nemesis better, they would not have

wondered about it, and might have stated the amount with the utmost

precision.

Read next: BOOK THE SECOND: RICHES#CHAPTER 13 The Progress of an Epidemic

Read previous: BOOK THE SECOND: RICHES#CHAPTER 11 A Letter from Little Dorrit

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