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CHAPTER 50
Matrimonial differences are usually discussed by the parties
concerned in the form of dialogue, in which the lady bears at least
her full half share. Those of Mr and Mrs Quilp, however, were an
exception to the general rule; the remarks which they occasioned
being limited to a long soliloquy on the part of the gentleman,
with perhaps a few deprecatory observations from the lady, not
extending beyond a trembling monosyllable uttered at long
intervals, and in a very submissive and humble tone. On the
present occasion, Mrs Quilp did not for a long time venture even on
this gentle defence, but when she had recovered from her
fainting-fit, sat in a tearful silence, meekly listening to the
reproaches of her lord and master.
Of these Mr Quilp delivered himself with the utmost animation and
rapidity, and with so many distortions of limb and feature, that
even his wife, although tolerably well accustomed to his
proficiency in these respects, was well-nigh beside herself with
alarm. But the Jamaica rum, and the joy of having occasioned a
heavy disappointment, by degrees cooled Mr Quilp's wrath; which
from being at savage heat, dropped slowly to the bantering or
chuckling point, at which it steadily remained.
'So you thought I was dead and gone, did you?' said Quilp. 'You
thought you were a widow, eh? Ha, ha, ha, you jade."
'Indeed, Quilp,' returned his wife. 'I'm very sorry--'
'Who doubts it!' cried the dwarf. 'You very sorry! to be sure you
are. Who doubts that you're VERY sorry!'
'I don't mean sorry that you have come home again alive and well,'
said his wife, 'but sorry that I should have been led into such a
belief. I am glad to see you, Quilp; indeed I am.'
In truth Mrs Quilp did seem a great deal more glad to behold her
lord than might have been expected, and did evince a degree of
interest in his safety which, all things considered, was rather
unaccountable. Upon Quilp, however, this circumstance made no
impression, farther than as it moved him to snap his fingers close
to his wife's eyes, with divers grins of triumph and derision.
'How could you go away so long, without saying a word to me or
letting me hear of you or know anything about you?' asked the poor
little woman, sobbing. 'How could you be so cruel, Quilp?'
'How could I be so cruel! cruel!' cried the dwarf. 'Because I was
in the humour. I'm in the humour now. I shall be cruel
when I like. I'm going away again.'
'Not again!'
'Yes, again. I'm going away now. I'm off directly. I mean to go
and live wherever the fancy seizes me--at the wharf--at the
counting-house--and be a jolly bachelor. You were a widow in
anticipation. Damme,' screamed the dwarf, 'I'll be a bachelor in
earnest.'
'You can't be serious, Quilp,' sobbed his wife.
'I tell you,' said the dwarf, exulting in his project, 'that I'll
be a bachelor, a devil-may-care bachelor; and I'll have my
bachelor's hall at the counting-house, and at such times come near
it if you dare. And mind too that I don't pounce in upon you at
unseasonable hours again, for I'll be a spy upon you, and come and
go like a mole or a weazel. Tom Scott--where's Tom Scott?'
'Here I am, master,' cried the voice of the boy, as Quilp threw up
the window.
'Wait there, you dog,' returned the dwarf, 'to carry a bachelor's
portmanteau. Pack it up, Mrs Quilp. Knock up the dear old lady to
help; knock her up. Halloa there! Halloa!'
With these exclamations, Mr Quilp caught up the poker, and hurrying
to the door of the good lady's sleeping-closet, beat upon it
therewith until she awoke in inexpressible terror, thinking that
her amiable son-in-law surely intended to murder her in
justification of the legs she had slandered. Impressed with this
idea, she was no sooner fairly awake than she screamed violently,
and would have quickly precipitated herself out of the window and
through a neighbouring skylight, if her daughter had not hastened
in to undeceive her, and implore her assistance. Somewhat
reassured by her account of the service she was required to render,
Mrs Jiniwin made her appearance in a flannel dressing-gown; and
both mother and daughter, trembling with terror and cold--for the
night was now far advanced--obeyed Mr Quilp's directions in
submissive silence. Prolonging his preparations as much as
possible, for their greater comfort, that eccentric gentleman
superintended the packing of his wardrobe, and having added to it
with his own hands, a plate, knife and fork, spoon, teacup and
saucer, and other small household matters of that nature, strapped
up the portmanteau, took it on his shoulders, and actually marched
off without another word, and with the case-bottle (which he had
never once put down) still tightly clasped under his arm.
Consigning his heavier burden to the care of Tom Scott when he
reached the street, taking a dram from the bottle for his own
encouragement, and giving the boy a rap on the head with it as a
small taste for himself, Quilp very deliberately led the way to the
wharf, and reached it at between three and four o'clock in the
morning.
'Snug!' said Quilp, when he had groped his way to the wooden
counting-house, and opened the door with a key he carried about
with him. 'Beautifully snug! Call me at eight, you dog.'
With no more formal leave-taking or explanation, he clutched the
portmanteau, shut the door on his attendant, and climbing on the
desk, and rolling himself up as round as a hedgehog, in an old
boat-cloak, fell fast asleep.
Being roused in the morning at the appointed time, and roused with
difficulty, after his late fatigues, Quilp instructed Tom Scott to
make a fire in the yard of sundry pieces of old timber, and to
prepare some coffee for breakfast; for the better furnishing of
which repast he entrusted him with certain small moneys, to be
expended in the purchase of hot rolls, butter, sugar, Yarmouth
bloaters, and other articles of housekeeping; so that in a few
minutes a savoury meal was smoking on the board. With this
substantial comfort, the dwarf regaled himself to his heart's
content; and being highly satisfied with this free and gipsy mode
of life (which he had often meditated, as offering, whenever he
chose to avail himself of it, an agreeable freedom from the
restraints of matrimony, and a choice means of keeping Mrs Quilp
and her mother in a state of incessant agitation and suspense),
bestirred himself to improve his retreat, and render it more
commodious and comfortable.
With this view, he issued forth to a place hard by, where sea-
stores were sold, purchased a second-hand hammock, and had it slung
in seamanlike fashion from the ceiling of the counting-house. He
also caused to be erected, in the same mouldy cabin, an old ship's
stove with a rusty funnel to carry the smoke through the roof; and
these arrangements completed, surveyed them with ineffable delight.
'I've got a country-house like Robinson Crusoe," said the dwarf,
ogling the accommodations; 'a solitary, sequestered,
desolate-island sort of spot, where I can be quite alone when I
have business on hand, and be secure from all spies and listeners.
Nobody near me here, but rats, and they are fine stealthy secret
fellows. I shall be as merry as a grig among these gentry. I'll
look out for one like Christopher, and poison him--ha, ha, ha!
Business though--business--we must be mindful of business in the
midst of pleasure, and the time has flown this morning, I declare.'
Enjoining Tom Scott to await his return, and not to stand upon his
head, or throw a summerset, or so much as walk upon his hands
meanwhile, on pain of lingering torments, the dwarf threw himself
into a boat, and crossing to the other side of the river, and then
speeding away on foot, reached Mr Swiveller's usual house of
entertainment in Bevis Marks, just as that gentleman sat down alone
to dinner in its dusky parlour.
'Dick'- said the dwarf, thrusting his head in at the door, 'my pet,
my pupil, the apple of my eye, hey, hey!'
'Oh you're there, are you?' returned Mr Swiveller; 'how are you?'
'How's Dick?' retorted Quilp. 'How's the cream of clerkship, eh?'
'Why, rather sour, sir,' replied Mr Swiveller. 'Beginning to
border upon cheesiness, in fact.'
'What's the matter?' said the dwarf, advancing. 'Has Sally proved
unkind. "Of all the girls that are so smart, there's none like--"
eh, Dick!'
'Certainly not,' replied Mr Swiveller, eating his dinner with great
gravity, 'none like her. She's the sphynx of private life, is
Sally B.'
'You're out of spirits,' said Quilp, drawing up a chair. 'What's
the matter?'
'The law don't agree with me,' returned Dick. 'It isn't moist
enough, and there's too much confinement. I have been thinking of
running away.'
'Bah!' said the dwarf. 'Where would you run to, Dick?'
'I don't know' returned Mr Swiveller. 'Towards Highgate, I
suppose. Perhaps the bells might strike up "Turn again Swiveller,
Lord Mayor of London." Whittington's name was Dick. I wish cats
were scarcer."
Quilp looked at his companion with his eyes screwed up into a
comical expression of curiosity, and patiently awaited his further
explanation; upon which, however, Mr Swiveller appeared in no hurry
to enter, as he ate a very long dinner in profound silence, finally
pushed away his plate, threw himself back into his chair, folded
his arms, and stared ruefully at the fire, in which some ends of
cigars were smoking on their own account, and sending up a fragrant
odour.
'Perhaps you'd like a bit of cake'--said Dick, at last turning to
the dwarf. 'You're quite welcome to it. You ought to be, for it's
of your making.'
'What do you mean?' said Quilp.
Mr Swiveller replied by taking from his pocket a small and very
greasy parcel, slowly unfolding it, and displaying a little slab of
plum-cake extremely indigestible in appearance, and bordered with
a paste of white sugar an inch and a half deep.
'What should you say this was?' demanded Mr Swiveller.
'It looks like bride-cake,' replied the dwarf, grinning.
'And whose should you say it was?' inquired Mr Swiveller, rubbing
the pastry against his nose with a dreadful calmness. 'Whose?'
'Not--'
'Yes,' said Dick, 'the same. You needn't mention her name.
There's no such name now. Her name is Cheggs now, Sophy Cheggs.
Yet loved I as man never loved that hadn't wooden legs, and my
heart, my heart is breaking for the love of Sophy Cheggs.'
With this extemporary adaptation of a popular ballad to the
distressing circumstances of his own case, Mr Swiveller folded up
the parcel again, beat it very flat between the palms of his hands,
thrust it into his breast, buttoned his coat over it, and folded
his arms upon the whole.
'Now, I hope you're satisfied, sir,' said Dick; 'and I hope Fred's
satisfied. You went partners in the mischief, and I hope you like
it. This is the triumph I was to have, is it? It's like the old
country-dance of that name, where there are two gentlemen to one
lady, and one has her, and the other hasn't, but comes limping up
behind to make out the figure. But it's Destiny, and mine's a
crusher.'
Disguising his secret joy in Mr Swiveller's defeat, Daniel Quilp
adopted the surest means of soothing him, by ringing the bell, and
ordering in a supply of rosy wine (that is to say, of its usual
representative), which he put about with great alacrity, calling
upon Mr Swiveller to pledge him in various toasts derisive of
Cheggs, and eulogistic of the happiness of single men. Such was
their impression on Mr Swiveller, coupled with the reflection that
no man could oppose his destiny, that in a very short space of time
his spirits rose surprisingly, and he was enabled to give the dwarf
an account of the receipt of the cake, which, it appeared, had been
brought to Bevis Marks by the two surviving Miss Wackleses in
person, and delivered at the office door with much giggling and
joyfulness.
'Ha!' said Quilp. 'It will be our turn to giggle soon. And that
reminds me--you spoke of young Trent--where is he?'
Mr Swiveller explained that his respectable friend had recently
accepted a responsible situation in a locomotive gaming-house, and
was at that time absent on a professional tour among the
adventurous spirits of Great Britain.
'That's unfortunate,' said the dwarf, 'for I came, in fact, to ask
you about him. A thought has occurred to me, Dick; your friend
over the way--'
'Which friend?'
'In the first floor.'
'Yes?'
'Your friend in the first floor, Dick, may know him.'
'No, he don't,' said Mr Swiveller, shaking his head.
'Don't! No, because he has never seen him,' rejoined Quilp; 'but
if we were to bring them together, who knows, Dick, but Fred,
properly introduced, would serve his turn almost as well as little
Nell or her grandfather--who knows but it might make the young
fellow's fortune, and, through him, yours, eh?'
'Why, the fact is, you see,' said Mr Swiveller, 'that they HAVE
been brought together.'
'Have been!' cried the dwarf, looking suspiciously at his
companion. 'Through whose means?'
'Through mine,' said Dick, slightly confused. 'Didn't I mention it
to you the last time you called over yonder?'
'You know you didn't,' returned the dwarf.
'I believe you're right,' said Dick. 'No. I didn't, I recollect.
Oh yes, I brought 'em together that very day. It was Fred's
suggestion.'
'And what came of it?'
'Why, instead of my friend's bursting into tears when he knew who
Fred was, embracing him kindly, and telling him that he was his
grandfather, or his grandmother in disguise (which we fully
expected), he flew into a tremendous passion; called him all manner
of names; said it was in a great measure his fault that little Nell
and the old gentleman had ever been brought to poverty; didn't hint
at our taking anything to drink; and--and in short rather turned
us out of the room than otherwise.'
'That's strange,' said the dwarf, musing.
'So we remarked to each other at the time,' returned Dick coolly,
'but quite true.'
Quilp was plainly staggered by this intelligence, over which he
brooded for some time in moody silence, often raising his eyes to
Mr Swiveller's face, and sharply scanning its expression. As he
could read in it, however, no additional information or anything to
lead him to believe he had spoken falsely; and as Mr Swiveller,
left to his own meditations, sighed deeply, and was evidently
growing maudlin on the subject of Mrs Cheggs; the dwarf soon broke
up the conference and took his departure, leaving the bereaved one
to his melancholy ruminations.
'Have been brought together, eh?' said the dwarf as he walked the
streets alone. 'My friend has stolen a march upon me. It led him
to nothing, and therefore is no great matter, save in the
intention. I'm glad he has lost his mistress. Ha ha! The
blockhead mustn't leave the law at present. I'm sure of him where
he is, whenever I want him for my own purposes, and, besides, he's
a good unconscious spy on Brass, and tells, in his cups, all that
he sees and hears. You're useful to me, Dick, and cost nothing but
a little treating now and then. I am not sure that it may not be
worth while, before long, to take credit with the stranger, Dick,
by discovering your designs upon the child; but for the present
we'll remain the best friends in the world, with your good leave.'
Pursuing these thoughts, and gasping as he went along, after his
own peculiar fashion, Mr Quilp once more crossed the Thames, and
shut himself up in his Bachelor's Hall, which, by reason of its
newly-erected chimney depositing the smoke inside the room and
carrying none of it off, was not quite so agreeable as more
fastidious people might have desired. Such inconveniences,
however, instead of disgusting the dwarf with his new abode, rather
suited his humour; so, after dining luxuriously from the
public-house, he lighted his pipe, and smoked against the chimney
until nothing of him was visible through the mist but a pair of red
and highly inflamed eyes, with sometimes a dim vision of his head
and face, as, in a violent fit of coughing, he slightly stirred the
smoke and scattered the heavy wreaths by which they were obscured.
In the midst of this atmosphere, which must infallibly have
smothered any other man, Mr Quilp passed the evening with great
cheerfulness; solacing himself all the time with the pipe and the
case-bottle; and occasionally entertaining himself with a melodious
howl, intended for a song, but bearing not the faintest resemblance
to any scrap of any piece of music, vocal or instrumental, ever
invented by man. Thus he amused himself until nearly midnight,
when he turned into his hammock with the utmost satisfaction.
The first sound that met his ears in the morning--as he half
opened his eyes, and, finding himself so unusually near the
ceiling, entertained a drowsy idea that he must have been
transformed into a fly or blue-bottle in the course of the night,
--was that of a stifled sobbing and weeping in the room. Peeping
cautiously over the side of his hammock, he descried Mrs Quilp, to
whom, after contemplating her for some time in silence, he
communicated a violent start by suddenly yelling out--'Halloa!'
'Oh, Quilp!' cried his poor little wife, looking up. 'How you
frightened me!'
'I meant to, you jade,' returned the dwarf. 'What do you want
here? I'm dead, an't I?'
'Oh, please come home, do come home,' said Mrs Quilp, sobbing;
'we'll never do so any more, Quilp, and after all it was only a
mistake that grew out of our anxiety.'
'Out of your anxiety,' grinned the dwarf. 'Yes, I know that--out
of your anxiety for my death. I shall come home when I please, I
tell you. I shall come home when I please, and go when I please.
I'll be a Will o' the Wisp, now here, now there, dancing about you
always, starting up when you least expect me, and keeping you in a
constant state of restlessness and irritation. Will you begone?'
Mrs Quilp durst only make a gesture of entreaty.
'I tell you no,' cried the dwarf. 'No. If you dare to come here
again unless you're sent for, I'll keep watch-dogs in the yard
that'll growl and bite--I'll have man-traps, cunningly altered and
improved for catching women--I'll have spring guns, that shall
explode when you tread upon the wires, and blow you into little
pieces. Will you begone?'
'Do forgive me. Do come back,' said his wife, earnestly.
'No-o-o-o-o!' roared Quilp. 'Not till my own good time, and then
I'll return again as often as I choose, and be accountable to
nobody for my goings or comings. You see the door there. Will you
go?'
Mr Quilp delivered this last command in such a very energetic
voice, and moreover accompanied it with such a sudden gesture,
indicative of an intention to spring out of his hammock, and,
night-capped as he was, bear his wife home again through the public
streets, that she sped away like an arrow. Her worthy lord
stretched his neck and eyes until she had crossed the yard, and
then, not at all sorry to have had this opportunity of carrying his
point, and asserting the sanctity of his castle, fell into an
immoderate fit of laughter, and laid himself down to sleep again.
Content of CHAPTER 50 [Charles Dickens' novel: The Old Curiosity Shop]
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