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In the region of low comedy he is easily the most original, the most inexhaustible, the most wonderful, of modern humorists. Creations such as Mrs. Nickleby, Mr. Micawber, Sam Weller, Sairy Gamp, take rank with Falstaff and Dogberry; while many others, like Dick Swiveller, Stiggins, Chadband, Mrs. Jellyby, and Julia Mills, are almost equally good.
This admirable tradition of material comfort allied with Evangelical opinion extended into my own time. The characteristic weakness of Mr. Stiggins has no place in my recollection; but Mr. Chadband I have frequently met in Evangelical circles, both inside and outside the Establishment.
"Either this boy sticks to it like cobbler's-wax or there is something out of the common here that beats anything that ever came into my way at Kenge and Carboy's." Mrs. Chadband whispers Mrs. Snagsby, who exclaims, "You don't say so!" "For years!" replied Mrs. Chadband. "Has known Kenge and Carboy's office for years," Mrs. Snagsby triumphantly explains to Mr. Guppy. "Mrs.
Where is she? To-morrow, indeed! Tell me, and I will fly." "You can't; for, as Brother Chadband observed, you haven't any wings." "Don't trifle with me. I know your fondness for surprises; but if you love me, don't put me off with your nonsense." Greenleaf was thoroughly in earnest, and Easelmann took a more soothing tone. At another time the temptation to tease would have been irresistible.
Chadband's habit it is the head and front of his pretensions indeed to keep this sort of debtor and creditor account in the smallest items and to post it publicly on the most trivial occasions. "My friends," says Chadband, "eightpence is not much; it might justly have been one and fourpence; it might justly have been half a crown. O let us be joyful, joyful! O let us be joyful!"
So Guster, much impressed by regarding herself for the time as the handmaid of Chadband, whom she knows to be endowed with the gift of holding forth for four hours at a stretch, prepares the little drawing-room for tea. All the furniture is shaken and dusted, the portraits of Mr. and Mrs.
Jo never heard of any such book. Its compilers and the Reverend Chadband are all one to him, except that he knows the Reverend Chadband and would rather run away from him for an hour than hear him talk for five minutes. "It an't no good my waiting here no longer," thinks Jo. "Mr. Snagsby an't a-going to say nothink to me to-night." And downstairs he shuffles.
"Perhaps you were acquainted with somebody who was a party in something, ma'am?" says Mr. Guppy, who likes nothing better than to model his conversation on forensic principles. "Not exactly that, either," replies Mrs. Chadband, humouring the joke with a hard-favoured smile. "Not exactly that, either!" repeats Mr. Guppy. "Very good. Take time, ma'am. We shall come to it presently.
Chadband this gentleman's wife Reverend Mr. Chadband." "Oh, indeed!" says Mr. Guppy. "Before I married my present husband," says Mrs. Chadband. "Was you a party in anything, ma'am?" says Mr. Guppy, transferring his cross-examination. "No." "NOT a party in anything, ma'am?" says Mr. Guppy. Mrs. Chadband shakes her head.
Here, Guster, who had been looking out of the bedroom window, comes rustling and scratching down the little staircase like a popular ghost, and falling flushed into the drawing-room, announces that Mr. and Mrs. Chadband have appeared in the court. The bell at the inner door in the passage immediately thereafter tinkling, she is admonished by Mrs.
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