Our Mutual Friend, Page 67

  Chapter 17

  THE VOICE OF SOCIETY

  Behoves Mortimer Lightwood, therefore, to answer a dinner card from Mrand Mrs Veneering requesting the honour, and to signify that Mr MortimerLightwood will be happy to have the other honour. The Veneerings havebeen, as usual, indefatigably dealing dinner cards to Society, andwhoever desires to take a hand had best be quick about it, for it iswritten in the Books of the Insolvent Fates that Veneering shall make aresounding smash next week. Yes. Having found out the clue to that greatmystery how people can contrive to live beyond their means, and havingover-jobbed his jobberies as legislator deputed to the Universe by thepure electors of Pocket-Breaches, it shall come to pass next week thatVeneering will accept the Chiltern Hundreds, that the legal gentleman inBritannia's confidence will again accept the Pocket-Breaches Thousands,and that the Veneerings will retire to Calais, there to live on MrsVeneering's diamonds (in which Mr Veneering, as a good husband, has fromtime to time invested considerable sums), and to relate to Neptune andothers, how that, before Veneering retired from Parliament, the Houseof Commons was composed of himself and the six hundred and fifty-sevendearest and oldest friends he had in the world. It shall likewise cometo pass, at as nearly as possible the same period, that Society willdiscover that it always did despise Veneering, and distrust Veneering,and that when it went to Veneering's to dinner it always hadmisgivings--though very secretly at the time, it would seem, and in aperfectly private and confidential manner.

  The next week's books of the Insolvent Fates, however, being not yetopened, there is the usual rush to the Veneerings, of the people who goto their house to dine with one another and not with them. There is LadyTippins. There are Podsnap the Great, and Mrs Podsnap. There is Twemlow.There are Buffer, Boots, and Brewer. There is the Contractor, whois Providence to five hundred thousand men. There is the Chairman,travelling three thousand miles per week. There is the brilliant geniuswho turned the shares into that remarkably exact sum of three hundredand seventy five thousand pounds, no shillings, and nopence.

  To whom, add Mortimer Lightwood, coming in among them with areassumption of his old languid air, founded on Eugene, and belonging tothe days when he told the story of the man from Somewhere.

  That fresh fairy, Tippins, all but screams at sight of her falseswain. She summons the deserter to her with her fan; but the deserter,predetermined not to come, talks Britain with Podsnap. Podsnap alwaystalks Britain, and talks as if he were a sort of Private Watchmanemployed, in the British interests, against the rest of the world. 'Weknow what Russia means, sir,' says Podsnap; 'we know what France wants;we see what America is up to; but we know what England is. That's enoughfor us.'

  However, when dinner is served, and Lightwood drops into his old placeover against Lady Tippins, she can be fended off no longer. 'Longbanished Robinson Crusoe,' says the charmer, exchanging salutations,'how did you leave the Island?'

  'Thank you,' says Lightwood. 'It made no complaint of being in painanywhere.'

  'Say, how did you leave the savages?' asks Lady Tippins.

  'They were becoming civilized when I left Juan Fernandez,' saysLightwood. 'At least they were eating one another, which looked likeit.'

  'Tormentor!' returns the dear young creature. 'You know what I mean, andyou trifle with my impatience. Tell me something, immediately, about themarried pair. You were at the wedding.'

  'Was I, by-the-by?' Mortimer pretends, at great leisure, to consider.'So I was!'

  'How was the bride dressed? In rowing costume?'

  Mortimer looks gloomy, and declines to answer.

  'I hope she steered herself, skiffed herself, paddled herself,larboarded and starboarded herself, or whatever the technical term maybe, to the ceremony?' proceeds the playful Tippins.

  'However she got to it, she graced it,' says Mortimer.

  Lady Tippins with a skittish little scream, attracts the generalattention. 'Graced it! Take care of me if I faint, Veneering. He meansto tell us, that a horrid female waterman is graceful!'

  'Pardon me. I mean to tell you nothing, Lady Tippins,' repliesLightwood. And keeps his word by eating his dinner with a show of theutmost indifference.

  'You shall not escape me in this way, you morose backwoodsman,' retortsLady Tippins. 'You shall not evade the question, to screen your friendEugene, who has made this exhibition of himself. The knowledge shall bebrought home to you that such a ridiculous affair is condemned by thevoice of Society. My dear Mrs Veneering, do let us resolve ourselvesinto a Committee of the whole House on the subject.'

  Mrs Veneering, always charmed by this rattling sylph, cries. 'Oh yes!Do let us resolve ourselves into a Committee of the whole House!So delicious!' Veneering says, 'As many as are of that opinion, sayAye,--contrary, No--the Ayes have it.' But nobody takes the slightestnotice of his joke.

  'Now, I am Chairwoman of Committees!' cries Lady Tippins.

  ('What spirits she has!' exclaims Mrs Veneering; to whom likewise nobodyattends.)

  'And this,' pursues the sprightly one, 'is a Committee of the wholeHouse to what-you-may-call-it--elicit, I suppose--the voice of Society.The question before the Committee is, whether a young man of very fairfamily, good appearance, and some talent, makes a fool or a wise man ofhimself in marrying a female waterman, turned factory girl.'

  'Hardly so, I think,' the stubborn Mortimer strikes in. 'I take thequestion to be, whether such a man as you describe, Lady Tippins, doesright or wrong in marrying a brave woman (I say nothing of her beauty),who has saved his life, with a wonderful energy and address; whom heknows to be virtuous, and possessed of remarkable qualities; whom he haslong admired, and who is deeply attached to him.'

  'But, excuse me,' says Podsnap, with his temper and his shirt-collarabout equally rumpled; 'was this young woman ever a female waterman?'

  'Never. But she sometimes rowed in a boat with her father, I believe.'

  General sensation against the young woman. Brewer shakes his head. Bootsshakes his head. Buffer shakes his head.

  'And now, Mr Lightwood, was she ever,' pursues Podsnap, with hisindignation rising high into those hair-brushes of his, 'a factorygirl?'

  'Never. But she had some employment in a paper mill, I believe.'

  General sensation repeated. Brewer says, 'Oh dear!' Boots says, 'Ohdear!' Buffer says, 'Oh dear!' All, in a rumbling tone of protest.

  'Then all I have to say is,' returns Podsnap, putting the thing awaywith his right arm, 'that my gorge rises against such a marriage--thatit offends and disgusts me--that it makes me sick--and that I desire toknow no more about it.'

  ('Now I wonder,' thinks Mortimer, amused, 'whether YOU are the Voice ofSociety!')

  'Hear, hear, hear!' cries Lady Tippins. 'Your opinion of thisMESALLIANCE, honourable colleagues of the honourable member who has justsat down?'

  Mrs Podsnap is of opinion that in these matters there should be anequality of station and fortune, and that a man accustomed to Societyshould look out for a woman accustomed to Society and capable of bearingher part in it with--an ease and elegance of carriage--that.' MrsPodsnap stops there, delicately intimating that every such man shouldlook out for a fine woman as nearly resembling herself as he may hope todiscover.

  ('Now I wonder,' thinks Mortimer, 'whether you are the Voice!')

  Lady Tippins next canvasses the Contractor, of five hundred thousandpower. It appears to this potentate, that what the man in questionshould have done, would have been, to buy the young woman a boat and asmall annuity, and set her up for herself. These things are a questionof beefsteaks and porter. You buy the young woman a boat. Very good. Youbuy her, at the same time, a small annuity. You speak of that annuity inpounds sterling, but it is in reality so many pounds of beefsteaks andso many pints of porter. On the one hand, the young woman has the boat.On the other hand, she consumes so many pounds of beefsteaks and so manypints of porter. Those beefsteaks and that porter are the fuel to thatyoung woman's engine. She derives therefrom a certain amount of power torow the boat; that power
will produce so much money; you add that to thesmall annuity; and thus you get at the young woman's income. That (itseems to the Contractor) is the way of looking at it.

  The fair enslaver having fallen into one of her gentle sleeps during thelast exposition, nobody likes to wake her. Fortunately, she comesawake of herself, and puts the question to the Wandering Chairman. TheWanderer can only speak of the case as if it were his own. If such ayoung woman as the young woman described, had saved his own life, hewould have been very much obliged to her, wouldn't have married her, andwould have got her a berth in an Electric Telegraph Office, where youngwomen answer very well.

  What does the Genius of the three hundred and seventy-five thousandpounds, no shillings, and nopence, think? He can't say what he thinks,without asking: Had the young woman any money?

  'No,' says Lightwood, in an uncompromising voice; 'no money.'

  'Madness and moonshine,' is then the compressed verdict of the Genius.'A man may do anything lawful, for money. But for no money!--Bosh!'

  What does Boots say?

  Boots says he wouldn't have done it under twenty thousand pound.

  What does Brewer say?

  Brewer says what Boots says.

  What does Buffer say?

  Buffer says he knows a man who married a bathing-woman, and bolted.

  Lady Tippins fancies she has collected the suffrages of the wholeCommittee (nobody dreaming of asking the Veneerings for their opinion),when, looking round the table through her eyeglass, she perceives MrTwemlow with his hand to his forehead.

  Good gracious! My Twemlow forgotten! My dearest! My own! What is hisvote?

  Twemlow has the air of being ill at ease, as he takes his hand from hisforehead and replies.

  'I am disposed to think,' says he, 'that this is a question of thefeelings of a gentleman.'

  'A gentleman can have no feelings who contracts such a marriage,'flushes Podsnap.

  'Pardon me, sir,' says Twemlow, rather less mildly than usual, 'I don'tagree with you. If this gentleman's feelings of gratitude, of respect,of admiration, and affection, induced him (as I presume they did) tomarry this lady--'

  'This lady!' echoes Podsnap.

  'Sir,' returns Twemlow, with his wristbands bristling a little, 'YOUrepeat the word; I repeat the word. This lady. What else would you callher, if the gentleman were present?'

  This being something in the nature of a poser for Podsnap, he merelywaves it away with a speechless wave.

  'I say,' resumes Twemlow, 'if such feelings on the part of thisgentleman, induced this gentleman to marry this lady, I think he is thegreater gentleman for the action, and makes her the greater lady. I begto say, that when I use the word, gentleman, I use it in the sense inwhich the degree may be attained by any man. The feelings of a gentlemanI hold sacred, and I confess I am not comfortable when they are made thesubject of sport or general discussion.'

  'I should like to know,' sneers Podsnap, 'whether your noble relationwould be of your opinion.'

  'Mr Podsnap,' retorts Twemlow, 'permit me. He might be, or he might notbe. I cannot say. But, I could not allow even him to dictate to me on apoint of great delicacy, on which I feel very strongly.'

  Somehow, a canopy of wet blanket seems to descend upon the company, andLady Tippins was never known to turn so very greedy or so very cross.Mortimer Lightwood alone brightens. He has been asking himself, as toevery other member of the Committee in turn, 'I wonder whether you arethe Voice!' But he does not ask himself the question after Twemlow hasspoken, and he glances in Twemlow's direction as if he were grateful.When the company disperse--by which time Mr and Mrs Veneering have hadquite as much as they want of the honour, and the guests have had quiteas much as THEY want of the other honour--Mortimer sees Twemlow home,shakes hands with him cordially at parting, and fares to the Temple,gaily.