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appearance of truth, as being worth, from first to last, half-a-million

of money.

Admiralty said Mr Merdle was a wonderful man, Treasury said he was a

new power in the country, and would be able to buy up the whole House of

Commons. Bishop said he was glad to think that this wealth flowed into

the coffers of a gentleman who was always disposed to maintain the best

interests of Society.

Mr Merdle himself was usually late on these occasions, as a man still

detained in the clutch of giant enterprises when other men had shaken

off their dwarfs for the day. On this occasion, he was the last arrival.

Treasury said Merdle's work punished him a little. Bishop said he was

glad to think that this wealth flowed into the coffers of a gentleman

who accepted it with meekness.

Powder! There was so much Powder in waiting, that it flavoured the

dinner. Pulverous particles got into the dishes, and Society's meats had

a seasoning of first-rate footmen. Mr Merdle took down a countess who

was secluded somewhere in the core of an immense dress, to which she

was in the proportion of the heart to the overgrown cabbage. If so low a

simile may be admitted, the dress went down the staircase like a richly

brocaded Jack in the Green, and nobody knew what sort of small person

carried it.

Society had everything it could want, and could not want, for dinner.

It had everything to look at, and everything to eat, and everything to

drink. It is to be hoped it enjoyed itself; for Mr Merdle's own share of

the repast might have been paid for with eighteenpence. Mrs Merdle was

magnificent. The chief butler was the next magnificent institution of

the day. He was the stateliest man in the company. He did nothing, but

he looked on as few other men could have done. He was Mr Merdle's

last gift to Society. Mr Merdle didn't want him, and was put out of

countenance when the great creature looked at him; but inappeasable

Society would have him--and had got him.

The invisible countess carried out the Green at the usual stage of

the entertainment, and the file of beauty was closed up by the bosom.

Treasury said, Juno. Bishop said, Judith.

Bar fell into discussion with Horse Guards concerning courts-martial.

Brothers Bellows and Bench struck in. Other magnates paired off. Mr

Merdle sat silent, and looked at the table-cloth. Sometimes a magnate

addressed him, to turn the stream of his own particular discussion

towards him; but Mr Merdle seldom gave much attention to it, or did more

than rouse himself from his calculations and pass the wine.

When they rose, so many of the magnates had something to say to Mr

Merdle individually that he held little levees by the sideboard, and

checked them off as they went out at the door.

Treasury hoped he might venture to congratulate one of England's

world-famed capitalists and merchant-princes (he had turned that

original sentiment in the house a few times, and it came easy to him) on

a new achievement. To extend the triumphs of such men was to extend

the triumphs and resources of the nation; and Treasury felt--he gave Mr

Merdle to understand--patriotic on the subject.

'Thank you, my lord,' said Mr Merdle; 'thank you. I accept your

congratulations with pride, and I am glad you approve.'

'Why, I don't unreservedly approve, my dear Mr Merdle. Because,'

smiling Treasury turned him by the arm towards the sideboard and spoke

banteringly, 'it never can be worth your while to come among us and help

us.'

Mr Merdle felt honoured by the--

'No, no,' said Treasury, 'that is not the light in which one so

distinguished for practical knowledge and great foresight, can be

expected to regard it. If we should ever be happily enabled, by

accidentally possessing the control over circumstances, to propose

to one so eminent to--to come among us, and give us the weight of his

influence, knowledge, and character, we could only propose it to him as

a duty. In fact, as a duty that he owed to Society.'

Mr Merdle intimated that Society was the apple of his eye, and that its

claims were paramount to every other consideration. Treasury moved

on, and Bar came up. Bar, with his little insinuating jury droop, and

fingering his persuasive double eye-glass, hoped he might be excused if

he mentioned to one of the greatest converters of the root of all evil

into the root of all good, who had for a long time reflected a shining

lustre on the annals even of our commercial country--if he mentioned,

disinterestedly, and as, what we lawyers called in our pedantic way,

amicus curiae, a fact that had come by accident within his knowledge. He

had been required to look over the title of a very considerable estate

in one of the eastern counties--lying, in fact, for Mr Merdle knew we

lawyers loved to be particular, on the borders of two of the eastern

counties. Now, the title was perfectly sound, and the estate was to

be purchased by one who had the command of--Money (jury droop and

persuasive eye-glass), on remarkably advantageous terms. This had come

to Bar's knowledge only that day, and it had occurred to him, 'I

shall have the honour of dining with my esteemed friend Mr Merdle

this evening, and, strictly between ourselves, I will mention the

opportunity.' Such a purchase would involve not only a great legitimate

political influence, but some half-dozen church presentations of

considerable annual value. Now, that Mr Merdle was already at no loss

to discover means of occupying even his capital, and of fully employing

even his active and vigorous intellect, Bar well knew: but he would

venture to suggest that the question arose in his mind, whether one who

had deservedly gained so high a position and so European a reputation

did not owe it--we would not say to himself, but we would say to

Society, to possess himself of such influences as these; and to exercise

them--we would not say for his own, or for his party's, but we would say

for Society's--benefit.

Mr Merdle again expressed himself as wholly devoted to that object of

his constant consideration, and Bar took his persuasive eye-glass up the

grand staircase. Bishop then came undesignedly sidling in the direction

of the sideboard.

Surely the goods of this world, it occurred in an accidental way to

Bishop to remark, could scarcely be directed into happier channels than

when they accumulated under the magic touch of the wise and sagacious,

who, while they knew the just value of riches (Bishop tried here to

look as if he were rather poor himself), were aware of their importance,

judiciously governed and rightly distributed, to the welfare of our

brethren at large.

Mr Merdle with humility expressed his conviction that Bishop couldn't

mean him, and with inconsistency expressed his high gratification in

Bishop's good opinion.

Bishop then--jauntily stepping out a little with his well-shaped right

leg, as though he said to Mr Merdle 'don't mind the apron; a mere form!'

put this case to his good friend:

Whether it had occurred to his good friend, that Society might not

unreasonably hope that one so blest in his undertakings, and whose

example on his pedestal was so influential with it, would shed a little

money in the direction of a mission or so to Africa?

Mr Merdle signifying that the idea should have his best attention,

Bishop put another case:

Whether his good friend had at all interested himself in the proceedings

of our Combined Additional Endowed Dignitaries Committee, and whether it

had occurred to him that to shed a little money in that direction might

be a great conception finely executed?

Mr Merdle made a similar reply, and Bishop explained his reason for

inquiring.

Society looked to such men as his good friend to do such things. It was

not that HE looked to them, but that Society looked to them.

Just as it was not Our Committee who wanted the Additional Endowed

Dignitaries, but it was Society that was in a state of the most

agonising uneasiness of mind until it got them. He begged to assure his

good friend that he was extremely sensible of his good friend's regard

on all occasions for the best interests of Society; and he considered

that he was at once consulting those interests and expressing the

feeling of Society, when he wished him continued prosperity, continued

increase of riches, and continued things in general.

Bishop then betook himself up-stairs, and the other magnates gradually

floated up after him until there was no one left below but Mr Merdle.

That gentleman, after looking at the table-cloth until the soul of the

chief butler glowed with a noble resentment, went slowly up after the

rest, and became of no account in the stream of people on the grand

staircase. Mrs Merdle was at home, the best of the jewels were hung out

to be seen, Society got what it came for, Mr Merdle drank twopennyworth

of tea in a corner and got more than he wanted.

Among the evening magnates was a famous physician, who knew everybody,

and whom everybody knew. On entering at the door, he came upon Mr Merdle

drinking his tea in a corner, and touched him on the arm.

Mr Merdle started. 'Oh! It's you!'

'Any better to-day?'

'No,' said Mr Merdle, 'I am no better.'

'A pity I didn't see you this morning. Pray come to me to-morrow, or let

me come to you.'

'Well!' he replied. 'I will come to-morrow as I drive by.' Bar and

Bishop had both been bystanders during this short dialogue, and as Mr

Merdle was swept away by the crowd, they made their remarks upon it

to the Physician. Bar said, there was a certain point of mental strain

beyond which no man could go; that the point varied with various

textures of brain and peculiarities of constitution, as he had had

occasion to notice in several of his learned brothers; but the point of

endurance passed by a line's breadth, depression and dyspepsia ensued.

Not to intrude on the sacred mysteries of medicine, he took it, now

(with the jury droop and persuasive eye-glass), that this was Merdle's

case? Bishop said that when he was a young man, and had fallen for a

brief space into the habit of writing sermons on Saturdays, a habit

which all young sons of the church should sedulously avoid, he had

frequently been sensible of a depression, arising as he supposed from an

over-taxed intellect, upon which the yolk of a new-laid egg, beaten up

by the good woman in whose house he at that time lodged, with a glass

of sound sherry, nutmeg, and powdered sugar acted like a charm. Without

presuming to offer so simple a remedy to the consideration of so

profound a professor of the great healing art, he would venture to

inquire whether the strain, being by way of intricate calculations,

the spirits might not (humanly speaking) be restored to their tone by a

gentle and yet generous stimulant?

'Yes,' said the physician, 'yes, you are both right. But I may as well

tell you that I can find nothing the matter with Mr Merdle. He has

the constitution of a rhinoceros, the digestion of an ostrich, and

the concentration of an oyster. As to nerves, Mr Merdle is of a cool

temperament, and not a sensitive man: is about as invulnerable, I should

say, as Achilles. How such a man should suppose himself unwell without

reason, you may think strange. But I have found nothing the matter with

him. He may have some deep-seated recondite complaint. I can't say. I

only say, that at present I have not found it out.'

There was no shadow of Mr Merdle's complaint on the bosom now displaying

precious stones in rivalry with many similar superb jewel-stands; there

was no shadow of Mr Merdle's complaint on young Sparkler hovering about

the rooms, monomaniacally seeking any sufficiently ineligible young lady

with no nonsense about her; there was no shadow of Mr Merdle's complaint

on the Barnacles and Stiltstalkings, of whom whole colonies were

present; or on any of the company. Even on himself, its shadow was faint

enough as he moved about among the throng, receiving homage.

Mr Merdle's complaint. Society and he had so much to do with one another

in all things else, that it is hard to imagine his complaint, if he

had one, being solely his own affair. Had he that deep-seated recondite

complaint, and did any doctor find it out? Patience, in the meantime,

the shadow of the Marshalsea wall was a real darkening influence, and

could be seen on the Dorrit Family at any stage of the sun's course.

CHAPTER 22. A Puzzle

Mr Clennam did not increase in favour with the Father of the Marshalsea

in the ratio of his increasing visits. His obtuseness on the great

Testimonial question was not calculated to awaken admiration in the

paternal breast, but had rather a tendency to give offence in that

sensitive quarter, and to be regarded as a positive shortcoming in point

of gentlemanly feeling. An impression of disappointment, occasioned

by the discovery that Mr Clennam scarcely possessed that delicacy for

which, in the confidence of his nature, he had been inclined to give

him credit, began to darken the fatherly mind in connection with that

gentleman. The father went so far as to say, in his private family

circle, that he feared Mr Clennam was not a man of high instincts.

He was happy, he observed, in his public capacity as leader and

representative of the College, to receive Mr Clennam when he called to

pay his respects; but he didn't find that he got on with him personally.

There appeared to be something (he didn't know what it was) wanting in

him. Howbeit, the father did not fail in any outward show of politeness,

but, on the contrary, honoured him with much attention; perhaps

cherishing the hope that, although not a man of a sufficiently

brilliant and spontaneous turn of mind to repeat his former testimonial

unsolicited, it might still be within the compass of his nature to

bear the part of a responsive gentleman, in any correspondence that way

tending.

In the threefold capacity, of the gentleman from outside who had been