David Copperfield - Charles Dickens (fun to read .txt) 📗

“What is your part of the country now?” I asked, seating myself near him.

“I am established within a few miles of Bury St. Edmund’s, sir,” said Mr. Chillip. “Mrs. Chillip, coming into a little property in that neighbourhood, under her father’s will, I bought a practice down there, in which you will be glad to hear I am doing well. My daughter is growing quite a tall lass now, sir,” said Mr. Chillip, giving his little head another little shake. “Her mother let down two tucks in her frocks only last week. Such is time, you see, sir!”

As the little man put his now empty glass to his lips, when he made this reflection, I proposed to him to have it refilled, and I would keep him company with another. “Well, sir,” he returned, in his slow way, “it’s more than I am accustomed to; but I can’t deny myself the pleasure of your conversation. It seems but yesterday that I had the honour of attending you in the measles. You came through them charmingly, sir!”

I acknowledged this compliment, and ordered the negus, which was soon produced. “Quite an uncommon dissipation!” said Mr. Chillip, stirring it, “but I can’t resist so extraordinary an occasion. You have no family, sir?”

I shook my head.

“I was aware that you sustained a bereavement, sir, some time ago,” said Mr. Chillip. “I heard it from your father-in-law’s sister. Very decided character there, sir?”

“Why, yes,” said I, “decided enough. Where did you see her, Mr. Chillip?”

“Are you not aware, sir,” returned Mr. Chillip, with his placidest smile, “that your father-in-law is again a neighbour of mine?”

“No,” said I.

“He is indeed, sir!” said Mr. Chillip. “Married a young lady of that part, with a very good little property, poor thing.⁠—And this action of the brain now, sir? Don’t you find it fatigue you?” said Mr. Chillip, looking at me like an admiring Robin.

I waived that question, and returned to the Murdstones. “I was aware of his being married again. Do you attend the family?” I asked.

“Not regularly. I have been called in,” he replied. “Strong phrenological developments of the organ of firmness, in Mr. Murdstone and his sister, sir.”

I replied with such an expressive look, that Mr. Chillip was emboldened by that, and the negus together, to give his head several short shakes, and thoughtfully exclaim, “Ah, dear me! We remember old times, Mr. Copperfield!”

“And the brother and sister are pursuing their old course, are they?” said I.

“Well, sir,” replied Mr. Chillip, “a medical man, being so much in families, ought to have neither eyes nor ears for anything but his profession. Still, I must say, they are very severe, sir: both as to this life and the next.”

“The next will be regulated without much reference to them, I dare say,” I returned: “what are they doing as to this?”

Mr. Chillip shook his head, stirred his negus, and sipped it.

“She was a charming woman, sir!” he observed in a plaintive manner.

“The present Mrs. Murdstone?”

“A charming woman indeed, sir,” said Mr. Chillip; “as amiable, I am sure, as it was possible to be! Mrs. Chillip’s opinion is, that her spirit has been entirely broken since her marriage, and that she is all but melancholy mad. And the ladies,” observed Mr. Chillip, timorously, “are great observers, sir.”

“I suppose she was to be subdued and broken to their detestable mould, Heaven help her!” said I. “And she has been.”

“Well, sir, there were violent quarrels at first, I assure you,” said Mr. Chillip; “but she is quite a shadow now. Would it be considered forward if I was to say to you, sir, in confidence, that since the sister came to help, the brother and sister between them have nearly reduced her to a state of imbecility?”

I told him I could easily believe it.

“I have no hesitation in saying,” said Mr. Chillip, fortifying himself with another sip of negus, “between you and me, sir, that her mother died of it⁠—or that tyranny, gloom, and worry have made Mrs. Murdstone nearly imbecile. She was a lively young woman, sir, before marriage, and their gloom and austerity destroyed her. They go about with her, now, more like her keepers than her husband and sister-in-law. That was Mrs. Chillip’s remark to me, only last week. And I assure you, sir, the ladies are great observers. Mrs. Chillip herself is a great observer!”

“Does he gloomily profess to be (I am ashamed to use the word in such association) religious still?” I inquired.

“You anticipate, sir,” said Mr. Chillip, his eyelids getting quite red with the unwonted stimulus in which he was indulging. “One of Mrs. Chillip’s most impressive remarks. Mrs. Chillip,” he proceeded, in the calmest and slowest manner, “quite electrified me, by pointing out that Mr. Murdstone sets up an image of himself, and calls it the Divine Nature. You might have knocked me down on the flat of my back, sir, with the feather of a pen, I assure you, when Mrs. Chillip said so. The ladies are great observers, sir?”

“Intuitively,” said I, to his extreme delight.

“I am very happy to receive such support in my opinion, sir,” he rejoined. “It is not often that I venture to give a nonmedical opinion, I assure you. Mr. Murdstone delivers public addresses sometimes, and it is said⁠—in short, sir, it is said by Mrs. Chillip⁠—that the darker tyrant he has lately been, the more ferocious is his doctrine.”

“I believe Mrs. Chillip to be perfectly right,” said I.

“Mrs. Chillip does go so far as to say,” pursued the meekest of little men, much encouraged, “that what such people miscall their religion, is a vent for their bad humours and arrogance. And do you know I must say, sir,” he continued, mildly laying his head on one side, “that I don’t find authority for Mr. and Miss Murdstone in the New Testament?”

“I never found it either!” said I.

“In the meantime, sir,” said Mr. Chillip, “they are much disliked; and as they are very free in consigning everybody who dislikes them to perdition, we really have a good deal of perdition going on in our neighbourhood! However, as Mrs. Chillip says, sir, they undergo a continual punishment; for they are turned inward, to feed upon