English
Tellson’sBankbyTempleBarwasanold-fashionedplace,evenintheyearonethousandsevenhundredandeighty.
Itwasverysmall,verydark,veryugly,veryincommodious.
Itwasanold-fashionedplace,moreover,inthemoralattributethatthepartnersintheHousewereproudofitssmallness,proudofitsdarkness,proudofitsugliness,proudofitsincommodiousness.
Theywereevenboastfulofitseminenceinthoseparticulars,andwerefiredbyanexpressconvictionthat,ifitwerelessobjectionable,itwouldbelessrespectable.
Thiswasnopassivebelief,butanactiveweaponwhichtheyflashedatmoreconvenientplacesofbusiness.
Tellson’s(theysaid)wantednoelbow-room,Tellson’swantednolight,Tellson’swantednoembellishment.
NoakesandCo.’smight,orSnooksBrothers’might;butTellson’s,thankHeaven!—
AnyoneofthesepartnerswouldhavedisinheritedhissononthequestionofrebuildingTellson’s.
InthisrespecttheHousewasmuchonaparwiththeCountry;whichdidveryoftendisinherititssonsforsuggestingimprovementsinlawsandcustomsthathadlongbeenhighlyobjectionable,butwereonlythemorerespectable.
Thusithadcometopass,thatTellson’swasthetriumphantperfectionofinconvenience.
Afterburstingopenadoorofidioticobstinacywithaweakrattleinitsthroat,youfellintoTellson’sdowntwosteps,andcametoyoursensesinamiserablelittleshop,withtwolittlecounters,wheretheoldestofmenmadeyourchequeshakeasifthewindrustledit,whiletheyexaminedthesignaturebythedingiestofwindows,whichwerealwaysunderashower-bathofmudfromFleet-street,andwhichweremadethedingierbytheirownironbarsproper,andtheheavyshadowofTempleBar.
Ifyourbusinessnecessitatedyourseeing“theHouse,”youwereputintoaspeciesofCondemnedHoldattheback,whereyoumeditatedonamisspentlife,untiltheHousecamewithitsbandsinitspockets,andyoucouldhardlyblinkatitinthedismaltwilight.
Yourmoneycameoutof,orwentinto,wormyoldwoodendrawers,particlesofwhichflewupyournoseanddownyourthroatwhentheywereopenedandshut.
Yourbank-noteshadamustyodour,asiftheywerefastdecomposingintoragsagain.
Yourplatewasstowedawayamongtheneighbouringcesspools,andevilcommunicationscorrupteditsgoodpolishinadayortwo.
Yourdeedsgotintoextemporisedstrong-roomsmadeofkitchensandsculleries,andfrettedallthefatoutoftheirparchmentsintothebanking-houseair.
Yourlighterboxesoffamilypaperswentup-stairsintoaBarmecideroom,thatalwayshadagreatdining-tableinitandneverhadadinner,andwhere,evenintheyearonethousandsevenhundredandeighty,thefirstletterswrittentoyoubyyouroldlove,orbyyourlittlechildren,werebutnewlyreleasedfromthehorrorofbeingogledthroughthewindows,bytheheadsexposedonTempleBarwithaninsensatebrutalityandferocityworthyofAbyssiniaorAshantee.
Butindeed,atthattime,puttingtodeathwasarecipemuchinvoguewithalltradesandprofessions,andnotleastofallwithTellson’s.
DeathisNature’sremedyforallthings,andwhynotLegislation’s?
Accordingly,theforgerwasputtoDeath;theuttererofabadnotewasputtoDeath;theunlawfulopenerofaletterwasputtoDeath;thepurloineroffortyshillingsandsixpencewasputtoDeath;theholderofahorseatTellson’sdoor,whomadeoffwithit,wasputtoDeath;thecoinerofabadshillingwasputtoDeath;thesoundersofthree-fourthsofthenotesinthewholegamutofCrime,wereputtoDeath.
Notthatitdidtheleastgoodinthewayofprevention—itmightalmosthavebeenworthremarkingthatthefactwasexactlythereverse—but,itclearedoff(astothisworld)thetroubleofeachparticularcase,andleftnothingelseconnectedwithittobelookedafter.
Thus,Tellson’s,initsday,likegreaterplacesofbusiness,itscontemporaries,hadtakensomanylives,that,iftheheadslaidlowbeforeithadbeenrangedonTempleBarinsteadofbeingprivatelydisposedof,theywouldprobablyhaveexcludedwhatlittlelightthegroundfloorbad,inarathersignificantmanner.
CrampedinallkindsofduncupboardsandhutchesatTellson’s,theoldestofmencarriedonthebusinessgravely.
WhentheytookayoungmanintoTellson’sLondonhouse,theyhidhimsomewheretillhewasold.
Theykepthiminadarkplace,likeacheese,untilhehadthefullTellsonflavourandblue-moulduponhim.
Thenonlywashepermittedtobeseen,spectacularlyporingoverlargebooks,andcastinghisbreechesandgaitersintothegeneralweightoftheestablishment.
OutsideTellson’s—neverbyanymeansinit,unlesscalledin—wasanodd-job-man,anoccasionalporterandmessenger,whoservedasthelivesignofthehouse.
Hewasneverabsentduringbusinesshours,unlessuponanerrand,andthenhewasrepresentedbyhisson:agrislyurchinoftwelve,whowashisexpressimage.
PeopleunderstoodthatTellson’s,inastatelyway,toleratedtheodd-job-man.
Thehousehadalwaystoleratedsomepersoninthatcapacity,andtimeandtidehaddriftedthispersontothepost.
HissurnamewasCruncher,andontheyouthfuloccasionofhisrenouncingbyproxytheworksofdarkness,intheeasterlyparishchurchofHounsditch,hehadreceivedtheaddedappellationofJerry.
ThescenewasMr.Cruncher’sprivatelodginginHanging-sword-alley,Whitefriars:thetime,half-pastsevenoftheclockonawindyMarchmorning,AnnoDominiseventeenhundredandeighty.
(Mr.CruncherhimselfalwaysspokeoftheyearofourLordasAnnaDominoes:apparentlyundertheimpressionthattheChristianeradatedfromtheinventionofapopulargame,byaladywhohadbestowedhernameuponit.)
Mr.Cruncher’sapartmentswerenotinasavouryneighbourhood,andwerebuttwoinnumber,evenifaclosetwithasinglepaneofglassinitmightbecountedasone.Buttheywereverydecentlykept.
Earlyasitwas,onthewindyMarchmorning,theroominwhichhelayabedwasalreadyscrubbedthroughout;andbetweenthecupsandsaucersarrangedforbreakfast,andthelumberingdealtable,averycleanwhiteclothwasspread.
Mr.Cruncherreposedunderapatchworkcounterpane,likeaHarlequinathome.
Atfast,hesleptheavily,but,bydegrees,begantorollandsurgeinbed,untilheroseabovethesurface,withhisspikyhairlookingasifitmusttearthesheetstoribbons.
Atwhichjuncture,heexclaimed,inavoiceofdireexasperation:
“Bustme,ifsheain’tatitagin!”
Awomanoforderlyandindustriousappearancerosefromherkneesinacorner,withsufficienthasteandtrepidationtoshowthatshewasthepersonreferredto.
“What!”saidMr.Cruncher,lookingoutofbedforaboot.“You’reatitagin,areyou?”
Afterhailingthemomwiththissecondsalutation,hethrewabootatthewomanasathird.
Itwasaverymuddyboot,andmayintroducetheoddcircumstanceconnectedwithMr.Cruncher’sdomesticeconomy,that,whereasheoftencamehomeafterbankinghourswithcleanboots,heoftengotupnextmorningtofindthesamebootscoveredwithclay.
“What,”saidMr.Cruncher,varyinghisapostropheaftermissinghismark—”whatareyouupto,Aggerawayter?”
“Iwasonlysayingmyprayers.”
“Sayingyourprayers!You’reanicewoman!Whatdoyoumeanbyfloppingyourselfdownandprayingaginme?”
“Iwasnotprayingagainstyou;Iwasprayingforyou.”
“Youweren’t.Andifyouwere,Iwon’tbetookthelibertywith.Here!
yourmother’sanicewoman,youngJerry,goingaprayingaginyourfather’sprosperity.
You’vegotadutifulmother,youhave,myson.
You’vegotareligiousmother,youhave,myboy:goingandfloppingherselfdown,andprayingthatthebread-and-buttermaybesnatchedoutofthemouthofheronlychild.”
MasterCruncher(whowasinhisshirt)tookthisveryill,and,turningtohismother,stronglydeprecatedanyprayingawayofhispersonalboard.
“Andwhatdoyousuppose,youconceitedfemale,”saidMr.Cruncher,withunconsciousinconsistency,“thattheworthofYOURprayersmaybe?NamethepricethatyouputYOURprayersat!”
“Theyonlycomefromtheheart,Jerry.Theyareworthnomorethanthat.”
“Worthnomorethanthat,”repeatedMr.Cruncher.“Theyain’tworthmuch,then.
Whetherorno,Iwon’tbeprayedagin,Itellyou.Ican’taffordit.
I’mnotagoingtobemadeunluckybyYOURsneaking.
Ifyoumustgofloppingyourselfdown,flopinfavourofyourhusbandandchild,andnotinoppositionto‘em.
IfIhadhadanybutaunnat’ralwife,andthispoorboyhadhadanybutaunnat’ralmother,Imighthavemadesomemoneylastweekinsteadofbeingcounter-prayedandcounterminedandreligiouslycircumwentedintotheworstofluck.B-u-u-ustme!”
saidMr.Cruncher,whoallthistimehadbeenputtingonhisclothes,“ifIain’t,whatwithpietyandoneblowedthingandanother,beenchousedthislastweekintoasbadluckaseverapoordevilofahonesttradesmanmetwith!
YoungJerry,dressyourself,myboy,andwhileIcleanmybootskeepaeyeuponyourmothernowandthen,andifyouseeanysignsofmoreflopping,givemeacall.
For,Itellyou,”hereheaddressedhiswifeoncemore,“Iwon’tbegoneagin,inthismanner.
Iamasricketyasahackney-coach,I’massleepyaslaudanum,mylinesisstrainedtothatdegreethatIshouldn’tknow,ifitwasn’tforthepainin‘em,whichwasmeandwhichsomebodyelse,yetI’mnonethebetterforitinpocket;andit’smysuspicionthatyou’vebeenatitfrommorningtonighttopreventmefrombeingthebetterforitinpocket,andIwon’tputupwithit,Aggerawayter,andwhatdoyousaynow!”
Growling,inaddition,suchphrasesas“Ah!yes!You’rereligious,too.
Youwouldn’tputyourselfinoppositiontotheinterestsofyourhusbandandchild,wouldyou?Notyou!”
andthrowingoffothersarcasticsparksfromthewhirlinggrindstoneofhisindignation,Mr.Cruncherbetookhimselftohisboot-cleaningandhisgeneralpreparationforbusiness.
Inthemeantime,hisson,whoseheadwasgarnishedwithtendererspikes,andwhoseyoungeyesstoodclosebyoneanother,ashisfather’sdid,kepttherequiredwatchuponhismother.
Hegreatlydisturbedthatpoorwomanatintervals,bydartingoutofhissleepingcloset,wherehemadehistoilet,withasuppressedcryof“Youaregoingtoflop,mother.—Halloa,father!”
and,afterraisingthisfictitiousalarm,dartinginagainwithanundutifulgrin.
Mr.Cruncher’stemperwasnotatallimprovedwhenhecametohisbreakfast.HeresentedMrs.Cruncher’ssayinggracewithparticularanimosity.
“Now,Aggerawayter!Whatareyouupto?Atitagain?”
Hiswifeexplainedthatshehadmerely“askedablessing.”
“Don’tdoit!”saidMr.Cruncheslookingabout,asifheratherexpectedtoseetheloafdisappearundertheefficacyofhiswife’spetitions.
“Iain’tagoingtobeblestoutofhouseandhome.
Iwon’thavemywittlesblestoffmytable.Keepstill!”
Exceedinglyred-eyedandgrim,asifhehadbeenupallnightatapartywhichhadtakenanythingbutaconvivialturn,JerryCruncherworriedhisbreakfastratherthanateit,growlingoveritlikeanyfour-footedinmateofamenagerie.
Towardsnineo’clockhesmoothedhisruffledaspect,and,presentingasrespectableandbusiness-likeanexteriorashecouldoverlayhisnaturalselfwith,issuedforthtotheoccupationoftheday.
Itcouldscarcelybecalledatrade,inspiteofhisfavouritedescriptionofhimselfas“ahonesttradesman.”
Hisstockconsistedofawoodenstool,madeoutofabroken-backedchaircutdown,whichstool,youngJerry,walkingathisfather’sside,carriedeverymorningtobeneaththebanking-housewindowthatwasnearestTempleBar:where,withtheadditionofthefirsthandfulofstrawthatcouldbegleanedfromanypassingvehicletokeepthecoldandwetfromtheodd-job-man’sfeet,itformedtheencampmentfortheday.
Onthispostofhis,Mr.CruncherwasaswellknowntoFleet-streetandtheTemple,astheBaritself,—andwasalmostasin-looking.
Encampedataquarterbeforenine,ingoodtimetotouchhisthree-corneredhattotheoldestofmenastheypassedintoTellson’s,JerrytookuphisstationonthiswindyMarchmorning,withyoungJerrystandingbyhim,whennotengagedinmakingforaysthroughtheBar,toinflictbodilyandmentalinjuriesofanacutedescriptiononpassingboyswhoweresmallenoughforhisamiablepurpose.
Fatherandson,extremelylikeeachother,lookingsilentlyonatthemorningtrafficinFleet-street,withtheirtwoheadsasneartooneanotherasthetwoeyesofeachwere,boreaconsiderableresemblancetoapairofmonkeys.
Theresemblancewasnotlessenedbytheaccidentalcircumstance,thatthematureJerrybitandspatoutstraw,whilethetwinklingeyesoftheyouthfulJerrywereasrestlesslywatchfulofhimasofeverythingelseinFleet-street.
TheheadofoneoftheregularindoormessengersattachedtoTellson’sestablishmentwasputthroughthedoor,andthewordwasgiven:
“Porterwanted!”
“Hooray,father!Here’sanearlyjobtobeginwith!”
HavingthusgivenhisparentGodspeed,youngJerryseatedhimselfonthestool,enteredonhisreversionaryinterestinthestrawhisfatherhadbeenchewing,andcogitated.
“Al-waysrusty!Hisfingersisal-waysrusty!”mutteredyoungJerry.“Wheredoesmyfathergetallthatironrustfrom?Hedon’tgetnoironrusthere!”
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