When Charity Pecksniff reproved Jonas for speaking irreverently of her father, he said:
“Ecod, you may say what you like of my father, then, and so I give you leave,” said Jonas. “I think it’s liquid aggravation that circulates through his veins, and not regular blood. How old should you think my father was, cousin?”
“Old, no doubt,” replied Miss Charity; “but a fine old gentleman.”
“A fine old gentleman!” repeated Jonas, giving the crown of his hat an angry knock. “Ah! It’s time he was thinking of being drawn out a little finer, too. Why, he’s eighty!”
“Is he, indeed?” said the young lady.
“And ecod,” cried Jonas, “now he’s gone so far without giving in, I don’t see much to prevent his being ninety; no, nor even a hundred. Why, a man with any feeling ought to be ashamed of being eighty, let alone more. Where’s his religion, I should like to know, when he goes flying in the face of the Bible like that? Threescore and ten’s the mark; and no man with a conscience, and a proper sense of what’s expected of him, has any business to live longer.”
When Jonas was particularly brutal in the treatment of Chuffey, the old clerk, his father seemed to enjoy his son’s sharpness.
It was strange enough that Anthony Chuzzlewit, himself so old a man, should take a pleasure in these gibings of his estimable son at the expense of the poor shadow at their table; but he did, unquestionably, though not so much—to do him justice—with reference to their ancient clerk, as in exultation at the sharpness of Jonas. For the same reason, that young man’s coarse allusions, even to himself, filled him with a stealthy glee, causing him to rub his hands and chuckle covertly, as if he said in his sleeve, “I taught him. I trained him. This is the heir of my bringing up. Sly, cunning, and covetous, he’ll not squander my money. I worked for this; I hoped for this; it has been the great end and aim of my life.”
What a noble end and aim it was to contemplate in the attainment, truly! But there be some who manufacture idols after the fashion of themselves, and fail to worship them when they are made; charging their deformity on outraged Nature. Anthony was better than these at any rate.
Exaggerated! Slightly exaggerated, but terribly true to Nature. Centring the life of a child on one base materialistic aim is certain to make a degraded if not a dangerous character. Every noble energy that should have given spiritual strength and beauty is devoured by the material monster as he grows in the heart. Respect for age, even for parents, is lost with all other virtues, and humanity becomes not a brotherhood to be co-operated with for noble purposes, but a horde to be entrapped and cheated. Jonas delighted his father with his rule in business: “Here’s the rule for bargains—‘Do other men, for they would do you.’ That’s the true business precept. All others are counterfeits.”