DOMBEY & SON (Illustrated). Charles Dickens
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in very great affliction and distress. That, through the gradual loss of his business, and not being able to make a payment, the apprehension of which has weighed very heavily upon his mind, months and months, as indeed I know, Sir, he has an execution in his house, and is in danger of losing all he has, and breaking his heart. And that if you would, in your kindness, and in your old knowledge of him as a respectable man, do anything to help him out of his difficulty, Sir, we never could thank you enough for it.’
Walter’s eyes filled with tears as he spoke; and so did those of Florence. Her father saw them glistening, though he appeared to look at Walter only.
‘It is a very large sum, Sir,’ said Walter. ‘More than three hundred pounds. My Uncle is quite beaten down by his misfortune, it lies so heavy on him; and is quite unable to do anything for his own relief. He doesn’t even know yet, that I have come to speak to you. You would wish me to say, Sir,’ added Walter, after a moment’s hesitation, ‘exactly what it is I want. I really don’t know, Sir. There is my Uncle’s stock, on which I believe I may say, confidently, there are no other demands, and there is Captain Cuttle, who would wish to be security too. I—I hardly like to mention,’ said Walter, ‘such earnings as mine; but if you would allow them—accumulate—payment—advance—Uncle—frugal, honourable, old man.’ Walter trailed off, through these broken sentences, into silence: and stood with downcast head, before his employer.
Considering this a favourable moment for the display of the valuables, Captain Cuttle advanced to the table; and clearing a space among the breakfast-cups at Mr Dombey’s elbow, produced the silver watch, the ready money, the teaspoons, and the sugar-tongs; and piling them up into a heap that they might look as precious as possible, delivered himself of these words:
‘Half a loaf’s better than no bread, and the same remark holds good with crumbs. There’s a few. Annuity of one hundred pound premium also ready to be made over. If there is a man chock full of science in the world, it’s old Sol Gills. If there is a lad of promise—one flowing,’ added the Captain, in one of his happy quotations, ‘with milk and honey—it’s his nevy!’
The Captain then withdrew to his former place, where he stood arranging his scattered locks with the air of a man who had given the finishing touch to a difficult performance.
When Walter ceased to speak, Mr Dombey’s eyes were attracted to little Paul, who, seeing his sister hanging down her head and silently weeping in her commiseration for the distress she had heard described, went over to her, and tried to comfort her: looking at Walter and his father as he did so, with a very expressive face. After the momentary distraction of Captain Cuttle’s address, which he regarded with lofty indifference, Mr Dombey again turned his eyes upon his son, and sat steadily regarding the child, for some moments, in silence.
‘What was this debt contracted for?’ asked Mr Dombey, at length. ‘Who is the creditor?’
‘He don’t know,’ replied the Captain, putting his hand on Walter’s shoulder. ‘I do. It came of helping a man that’s dead now, and that’s cost my friend Gills many a hundred pound already. More particulars in private, if agreeable.’
‘People who have enough to do to hold their own way,’ said Mr Dombey, unobservant of the Captain’s mysterious signs behind Walter, and still looking at his son, ‘had better be content with their own obligations and difficulties, and not increase them by engaging for other men. It is an act of dishonesty and presumption, too,’ said Mr Dombey, sternly; ‘great presumption; for the wealthy could do no more. Paul, come here!’
The child obeyed: and Mr Dombey took him on his knee.
‘If you had money now—’ said Mr Dombey. ‘Look at me!’
Paul, whose eyes had wandered to his sister, and to Walter, looked his father in the face.
‘If you had money now,’ said Mr Dombey; ‘as much money as young Gay has talked about; what would you do?’
‘Give it to his old Uncle,’ returned Paul.
‘Lend it to his old Uncle, eh?’ retorted Mr Dombey. ‘Well! When you are old enough, you know, you will share my money, and we shall use it together.’
‘Dombey and Son,’ interrupted Paul, who had been tutored early in the phrase.
‘Dombey and Son,’ repeated his father. ‘Would you like to begin to be Dombey and Son, now, and lend this money to young Gay’s Uncle?’
‘Oh! if you please, Papa!’ said Paul: ‘and so would Florence.’
‘Girls,’ said Mr Dombey, ‘have nothing to do with Dombey and Son. Would you like it?’
‘Yes, Papa, yes!’
‘Then you shall do it,’ returned his father. ‘And you see, Paul,’ he added, dropping his voice, ‘how powerful money is, and how anxious people are to get it. Young Gay comes all this way to beg for money, and you, who are so grand and great, having got it, are going to let him have it, as a great favour and obligation.’
Paul turned up the old face for a moment, in which there was a sharp understanding of the reference conveyed in these words: but it was a young and childish face immediately afterwards, when he slipped down from his father’s knee, and ran to tell Florence not to cry any more, for he was going to let young Gay have the money.
Mr Dombey then turned to a side-table, and wrote a note and sealed it. During the interval, Paul and Florence whispered to Walter, and Captain Cuttle beamed on the three, with such aspiring and ineffably presumptuous thoughts as Mr Dombey never could have believed in. The note being finished, Mr Dombey turned round to his former place, and held it out to Walter.
‘Give that,’ he said, ‘the first thing to-morrow morning, to Mr Carker. He will immediately take care that one of my people releases your Uncle from his present position, by paying the amount at issue; and that such arrangements are made for its repayment as may be consistent with your Uncle’s circumstances. You will consider that this is done for you by Master Paul.’
Walter, in the emotion of holding in his hand the means of releasing his good Uncle from his trouble, would have endeavoured to express something of his gratitude and joy. But Mr Dombey stopped him short.
‘You will consider that it is done,’ he repeated, ‘by Master Paul. I have explained that to him, and he understands it. I wish no more to be said.’
As he motioned towards the door, Walter could only bow his head and retire. Miss Tox, seeing that the Captain appeared about to do the same, interposed.
‘My dear Sir,’ she said, addressing Mr Dombey, at whose munificence both she and Mrs Chick were shedding tears copiously; ‘I think you have overlooked something. Pardon me, Mr Dombey, I think, in the nobility of your character, and its exalted scope, you have omitted a matter of detail.’
‘Indeed, Miss Tox!’ said Mr Dombey.
‘The gentleman with the—Instrument,’ pursued Miss Tox, glancing at Captain Cuttle, ‘has left upon the table, at your elbow—’
‘Good Heaven!’ said Mr Dombey, sweeping the Captain’s property from him, as if it were so much crumb indeed. ‘Take these things away. I am obliged to you, Miss Tox; it is like your usual discretion. Have the goodness to take these things away, Sir!’
Captain Cuttle felt he had no alternative but to comply. But he was so much struck by the magnanimity of Mr Dombey, in refusing treasures lying heaped up to his hand, that when he had deposited the teaspoons and sugar-tongs in one pocket, and the ready money in another, and had lowered the great watch down slowly into its proper vault, he could not refrain from seizing that gentleman’s right hand in his own solitary left, and while he held it open with his powerful fingers, bringing the hook down upon its palm in a transport of admiration. At this touch of warm feeling and cold iron, Mr Dombey shivered all over.
Captain Cuttle then kissed his hook to the ladies several times, with great elegance and gallantry; and having taken a particular leave of Paul and Florence, accompanied Walter out of