CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

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_ MARTIN ENLARGES HIS CIRCLE OF AQUAINTANCE; INCREASES HIS STOCK OF
WISDOM; AND HAS AN EXCELLENT OPPORTUNITY OF COMPARING HIS OWN
EXPERIENCES WITH THOSE OF LUMMY NED OF THE LIGHT SALISBURY, AS
RELATED BY HIS FRIEND MR WILLIAM SIMMONS.

It was characteristic of Martin, that all this while he had either

forgotten Mark Tapley as completely as if there had been no such

person in existence, or, if for a moment the figure of that

gentleman rose before his mental vision, had dismissed it as

something by no means of a pressing nature, which might be attended

to by-and-bye, and could wait his perfect leisure. But, being now

in the streets again, it occurred to him as just coming within the

bare limits of possibility that Mr Tapley might, in course of time,

grow tired of waiting on the threshold of the Rowdy Journal Office,

so he intimated to his new friend, that if they could conveniently

walk in that direction, he would be glad to get this piece of

business off his mind.

 

'And speaking of business,' said Martin, 'may I ask, in order that I

may not be behind-hand with questions either, whether your

occupation holds you to this city, or like myself, you are a visitor

here?'

 

'A visitor,' replied his friend. 'I was "raised" in the State of

Massachusetts, and reside there still. My home is in a quiet

country town. I am not often in these busy places; and my

inclination to visit them does not increase with our better

acquaintance, I assure you.'

 

'You have been abroad?' asked Martin,

 

'Oh yes.'

 

'And, like most people who travel, have become more than ever

attached to your home and native country,' said Martin, eyeing him

curiously.

 

'To my home--yes,' rejoined his friend. 'To my native country AS my

home--yes, also.'

 

'You imply some reservation,' said Martin.

 

'Well,' returned his new friend, 'if you ask me whether I came back

here with a greater relish for my country's faults; with a greater

fondness for those who claim (at the rate of so many dollars a day)

to be her friends; with a cooler indifference to the growth of

principles among us in respect of public matters and of private

dealings between man and man, the advocacy of which, beyond the foul

atmosphere of a criminal trial, would disgrace your own old Bailey

lawyers; why, then I answer plainly, No.'

 

'Oh!' said Martin; in so exactly the same key as his friend's No,

that it sounded like an echo.

 

'If you ask me,' his companion pursued, 'whether I came back here

better satisfied with a state of things which broadly divides

society into two classes--whereof one, the great mass, asserts a

spurious independence, most miserably dependent for its mean

existence on the disregard of humanizing conventionalities of manner

and social custom, so that the coarser a man is, the more distinctly

it shall appeal to his taste; while the other, disgusted with the

low standard thus set up and made adaptable to everything, takes

refuge among the graces and refinements it can bring to bear on

private life, and leaves the public weal to such fortune as may

betide it in the press and uproar of a general scramble--then again

I answer, No.'

 

And again Martin said 'Oh!' in the same odd way as before, being

anxious and disconcerted; not so much, to say the truth, on public

grounds, as with reference to the fading prospects of domestic

architecture.

 

'In a word,' resumed the other, 'I do not find and cannot believe

and therefore will not allow, that we are a model of wisdom, and an

example to the world, and the perfection of human reason, and a

great deal more to the same purpose, which you may hear any hour in

the day; simply because we began our political life with two

inestimable advantages.'

 

'What were they?' asked Martin.

 

'One, that our history commenced at so late a period as to escape

the ages of bloodshed and cruelty through which other nations have

passed; and so had all the light of their probation, and none of its

darkness. The other, that we have a vast territory, and not--as

yet--too many people on it. These facts considered, we have done

little enough, I think.'

 

'Education?' suggested Martin, faintly.

 

'Pretty well on that head,' said the other, shrugging his shoulders,

'still no mighty matter to boast of; for old countries, and despotic

countries too, have done as much, if not more, and made less noise

about it. We shine out brightly in comparison with England,

certainly; but hers is a very extreme case. You complimented me on

my frankness, you know,' he added, laughing.

 

'Oh! I am not at all astonished at your speaking thus openly when my

country is in question,' returned Martin. 'It is your plain-

speaking in reference to your own that surprises me.'

 

'You will not find it a scarce quality here, I assure you, saving

among the Colonel Divers, and Jefferson Bricks, and Major Pawkinses;

though the best of us are something like the man in Goldsmith's

comedy, who wouldn't suffer anybody but himself to abuse his master.

Come!' he added. 'Let us talk of something else. You have come

here on some design of improving your fortune, I dare say; and I

should grieve to put you out of heart. I am some years older than

you, besides; and may, on a few trivial points, advise you, perhaps.'

 

There was not the least curiosity or impertinence in the manner of

this offer, which was open-hearted, unaffected, and good-natured.

As it was next to impossible that he should not have his confidence

awakened by a deportment so prepossessing and kind, Martin plainly

stated what had brought him into those parts, and even made the very

difficult avowal that he was poor. He did not say how poor, it must

be admitted, rather throwing off the declaration with an air which

might have implied that he had money enough for six months, instead

of as many weeks; but poor he said he was, and grateful he said he

would be, for any counsel that his friend would give him.

 

It would not have been very difficult for any one to see; but it was

particularly easy for Martin, whose perceptions were sharpened by

his circumstances, to discern; that the stranger's face grew

infinitely longer as the domestic-architecture project was

developed. Nor, although he made a great effort to be as

encouraging as possible, could he prevent his head from shaking once

involuntarily, as if it said in the vulgar tongue, upon its own

account, 'No go!' But he spoke in a cheerful tone, and said, that

although there was no such opening as Martin wished, in that city,

he would make it matter of immediate consideration and inquiry where

one was most likely to exist; and then he made Martin acquainted

with his name, which was Bevan; and with his profession, which was

physic, though he seldom or never practiced; and with other

circumstances connected with himself and family, which fully

occupied the time, until they reached the Rowdy Journal Office.

 

Mr Tapley appeared to be taking his ease on the landing of the first

floor; for sounds as of some gentleman established in that region

whistling 'Rule Britannia' with all his might and main, greeted

their ears before they reached the house. On ascending to the spot

from whence this music proceeded, they found him recumbent in the

midst of a fortification of luggage, apparently performing his

national anthem for the gratification of a grey-haired black man,

who sat on one of the outworks (a portmanteau), staring intently at

Mark, while Mark, with his head reclining on his hand, returned the

compliment in a thoughtful manner, and whistled all the time. He

seemed to have recently dined, for his knife, a casebottle, and

certain broken meats in a handkerchief, lay near at hand. He had

employed a portion of his leisure in the decoration of the Rowdy

Journal door, whereon his own initials now appeared in letters

nearly half a foot long, together with the day of the month in

smaller type; the whole surrounded by an ornamental border, and

looking very fresh and bold.

 

'I was a'most afraid you was lost, sir!' cried Mark, rising, and

stopping the tune at that point where Britons generally are supposed

to declare (when it is whistled) that they never, never, never--

 

'Nothing gone wrong, I hope, sir?'

 

'No, Mark. Where's your friend?'

 

'The mad woman, sir?' said Mr Tapley. 'Oh! she's all right, sir.'

 

'Did she find her husband?'

 

'Yes, sir. Leastways she's found his remains,' said Mark,

correcting himself.

 

'The man's not dead, I hope?'

 

'Not altogether dead, sir,' returned Mark; 'but he's had more fevers

and agues than is quite reconcilable with being alive. When she

didn't see him a-waiting for her, I thought she'd have died herself,

I did!'

 

'Was he not here, then?'

 

'HE wasn't here. There was a feeble old shadow come a-creeping down

at last, as much like his substance when she know'd him, as your

shadow when it's drawn out to its very finest and longest by the

sun, is like you. But it was his remains, there's no doubt about

that. She took on with joy, poor thing, as much as if it had been

all of him!'

 

'Had he bought land?' asked Mr Bevan.

 

'Ah! He'd bought land,' said Mark, shaking his head, 'and paid for

it too. Every sort of nateral advantage was connected with it, the

agents said; and there certainly was ONE, quite unlimited. No end

to the water!'

 

'It's a thing he couldn't have done without, I suppose,' observed

Martin, peevishly.

 

'Certainly not, sir. There it was, any way; always turned on, and

no water-rate. Independent of three or four slimy old rivers close

by, it varied on the farm from four to six foot deep in the dry

season. He couldn't say how deep it was in the rainy time, for he

never had anything long enough to sound it with.'

 

'Is this true?' asked Martin of his companion.

 

'Extremely probable,' he answered. 'Some Mississippi or Missouri

lot, I dare say.'

 

'However,' pursued Mark, 'he came from I-don't-know-where-and-all,

down to New York here, to meet his wife and children; and they

started off again in a steamboat this blessed afternoon, as happy

to be along with each other as if they were going to Heaven. I

should think they was, pretty straight, if I may judge from the poor

man's looks.'

 

'And may I ask,' said Martin, glancing, but not with any

displeasure, from Mark to the negro, 'who this gentleman is?

Another friend of yours?'

 

'Why sir,' returned Mark, taking him aside, and speaking

confidentially in his ear, 'he's a man of colour, sir!'

 

'Do you take me for a blind man,' asked Martin, somewhat

impatiently, 'that you think it necessary to tell me that, when his

face is the blackest that ever was seen?'

 

'No, no; when I say a man of colour,' returned Mark, 'I mean that

he's been one of them as there's picters of in the shops. A man and

a brother, you know, sir,' said Mr Tapley, favouring his master with

a significant indication of the figure so often represented in

tracts and cheap prints.

 

'A slave!' cried Martin, in a whisper.

 

'Ah!' said Mark in the same tone. 'Nothing else. A slave. Why,

when that there man was young--don't look at him while I'm a-telling

it--he was shot in the leg; gashed in the arm; scored in his live

limbs, like crimped fish; beaten out of shape; had his neck galled

with an iron collar, and wore iron rings upon his wrists and ankles.

The marks are on him to this day. When I was having my dinner just

now, he stripped off his coat, and took away my appetite.'

 

'Is THIS true?' asked Martin of his friend, who stood beside them.

 

'I have no reason to doubt it,' he answered, shaking his head 'It

very often is.'

 

'Bless you,' said Mark, 'I know it is, from hearing his whole story.

That master died; so did his second master from having his head cut

open with a hatchet by another slave, who, when he'd done it, went

and drowned himself; then he got a better one; in years and years

he saved up a little money, and bought his freedom, which he got

pretty cheap at last, on account of his strength being nearly gone,

and he being ill. Then he come here. And now he's a-saving up to

treat himself, afore he dies, to one small purchase--it's nothing to

speak of. Only his own daughter; that's all!' cried Mr Tapley,

becoming excited. 'Liberty for ever! Hurrah! Hail, Columbia!'

 

'Hush!' cried Martin, clapping his hand upon his mouth; 'and don't

be an idiot. What is he doing here?'

 

'Waiting to take our luggage off upon a truck,' said Mark. 'He'd

have come for it by-and-bye, but I engaged him for a very reasonable

charge (out of my own pocket) to sit along with me and make me

jolly; and I am jolly; and if I was rich enough to contract with him

to wait upon me once a day, to be looked at, I'd never be anything

else.'

 

The fact may cause a solemn impeachment of Mark's veracity, but it

must be admitted nevertheless, that there was that in his face and

manner at the moment, which militated strongly against this emphatic

declaration of his state of mind.

 

'Lord love you, sir,' he added, 'they're so fond of Liberty in this

part of the globe, that they buy her and sell her and carry her to

market with 'em. They've such a passion for Liberty, that they

can't help taking liberties with her. That's what it's owing to.'

 

'Very well,' said Martin, wishing to change the theme. 'Having come

to that conclusion, Mark, perhaps you'll attend to me. The place to

which the luggage is to go is printed on this card. Mrs Pawkins's

Boarding House.'

 

'Mrs Pawkins's boarding-house,' repeated Mark. 'Now, Cicero.'

 

'Is that his name?' asked Martin

 

'That's his name, sir,' rejoined Mark. And the negro grinning

assent from under a leathern portmanteau, than which his own face

was many shades deeper, hobbled downstairs with his portion of

their worldly goods; Mark Tapley having already gone before with his

share.

 

Martin and his friend followed them to the door below, and were

about to pursue their walk, when the latter stopped, and asked, with

some hesitation, whether that young man was to be trusted?

 

'Mark! oh certainly! with anything.'

 

'You don't understand me--I think he had better go with us. He is

an honest fellow, and speaks his mind so very plainly.'

 

'Why, the fact is,' said Martin, smiling, 'that being unaccustomed

to a free republic, he is used to do so.'

 

'I think he had better go with us,' returned the other. 'He may get

into some trouble otherwise. This is not a slave State; but I am

ashamed to say that a spirit of Tolerance is not so common anywhere

in these latitudes as the form. We are not remarkable for behaving

very temperately to each other when we differ; but to strangers!

no, I really think he had better go with us.'

 

Martin called to him immediately to be of their party; so Cicero and

the truck went one way, and they three went another.

 

They walked about the city for two or three hours; seeing it from

the best points of view, and pausing in the principal streets, and

before such public buildings as Mr Bevan pointed out. Night then

coming on apace, Martin proposed that they should adjourn to Mrs

Pawkins's establishment for coffee; but in this he was overruled by

his new acquaintance, who seemed to have set his heart on carrying

him, though it were only for an hour, to the house of a friend of

his who lived hard by. Feeling (however disinclined he was, being

weary) that it would be in bad taste, and not very gracious, to

object that he was unintroduced, when this open-hearted gentleman

was so ready to be his sponsor, Martin--for once in his life, at all

events--sacrificed his own will and pleasure to the wishes of

another, and consented with a fair grace. So travelling had done

him that much good, already.

 

Mr Bevan knocked at the door of a very neat house of moderate size,

from the parlour windows of which, lights were shining brightly into

the now dark street. It was quickly opened by a man with such a

thoroughly Irish face, that it seemed as if he ought, as a matter of

right and principle, to be in rags, and could have no sort of

business to be looking cheerfully at anybody out of a whole suit of

clothes.

 

Commending Mark to the care of this phenomenon--for such he may be

said to have been in Martin's eyes--Mr Bevan led the way into the

room which had shed its cheerfulness upon the street, to whose

occupants he introduced Mr Chuzzlewit as a gentleman from England,

whose acquaintance he had recently had the pleasure to make. They

gave him welcome in all courtesy and politeness; and in less than

five minutes' time he found himself sitting very much at his ease by

the fireside, and becoming vastly well acquainted with the whole

family.

 

There were two young ladies--one eighteen; the other twenty--both

very slender, but very pretty; their mother, who looked, as Martin

thought much older and more faded than she ought to have looked; and

their grandmother, a little sharp-eyed, quick old woman, who seemed

to have got past that stage, and to have come all right again.

Besides these, there were the young ladies' father, and the young

ladies' brother; the first engaged in mercantile affairs; the

second, a student at college; both, in a certain cordiality of

manner, like his own friend, and not unlike him in face. Which was

no great wonder, for it soon appeared that he was their near

relation. Martin could not help tracing the family pedigree from

the two young ladies, because they were foremost in his thoughts;

not only from being, as aforesaid, very pretty, but by reason of

their wearing miraculously small shoes, and the thinnest possible

silk stockings; the which their rocking-chairs developed to a

distracting extent.

 

There is no doubt that it was a monstrous comfortable circumstance

to be sitting in a snug, well-furnished room, warmed by a cheerful

fire, and full of various pleasant decorations, including four small

shoes, and the like amount of silk stockings, and--yes, why not?--the

feet and legs therein enshrined. And there is no doubt that Martin

was monstrous well-disposed to regard his position in that light,

after his recent experience of the Screw, and of Mrs Pawkins's

boarding-house. The consequence was that he made himself very

agreeable indeed; and by the time the tea and coffee arrived (with

sweet preserves, and cunning tea-cakes in its train), was in a

highly genial state, and much esteemed by the whole family.

 

Another delightful circumstance turned up before the first cup of

tea was drunk. The whole family had been in England. There was a

pleasant thing! But Martin was not quite so glad of this, when he

found that they knew all the great dukes, lords, viscounts,

marquesses, duchesses, knights, and baronets, quite affectionately,

and were beyond everything interested in the least particular

concerning them. However, when they asked, after the wearer of this

or that coronet, and said, 'Was he quite well?' Martin answered,

'Yes, oh yes. Never better;' and when they said, 'his lordship's

mother, the duchess, was she much changed?' Martin said, 'Oh dear

no, they would know her anywhere, if they saw her to-morrow;' and

so got on pretty well. In like manner when the young ladies

questioned him touching the Gold Fish in that Grecian fountain in

such and such a nobleman's conservatory, and whether there were as

many as there used to be, he gravely reported, after mature

consideration, that there must be at least twice as many; and as to

the exotics, 'Oh! well! it was of no use talking about THEM; they

must be seen to be believed;' which improved state of circumstances

reminded the family of the splendour of that brilliant festival

(comprehending the whole British Peerage and Court Calendar) to

which they were specially invited, and which indeed had been partly

given in their honour; and recollections of what Mr Norris the

father had said to the marquess, and of what Mrs Norris the mother

had said to the marchioness, and of what the marquess and

marchioness had both said, when they said that upon their words and

honours they wished Mr Norris the father and Mrs Norris the mother,

and the Misses Norris the daughters, and Mr Norris Junior, the son,

would only take up their permanent residence in England, and give

them the pleasure of their everlasting friendship, occupied a very

considerable time.

 

Martin thought it rather stange, and in some sort inconsistent, that

during the whole of these narrations, and in the very meridian of

their enjoyment thereof, both Mr Norris the father, and Mr Norris

Junior, the son (who corresponded, every post, with four members of

the English Peerage), enlarged upon the inestimable advantage of

having no such arbitrary distinctions in that enlightened land,

where there were no noblemen but nature's noblemen, and where all

society was based on one broad level of brotherly love and natural

equality. Indeed, Mr Norris the father gradually expanding into an

oration on this swelling theme, was becoming tedious, when Mr Bevan

diverted his thoughts by happening to make some causal inquiry

relative to the occupier of the next house; in reply to which, this

same Mr Norris the father observed, that 'that person entertained

religious opinions of which he couldn't approve; and therefore he

hadn't the honour of knowing the gentleman.' Mrs Norris the mother

added another reason of her own, the same in effect, but varying in

words; to wit, that she believed the people were well enough in

their way, but they were not genteel.

 

Another little trait came out, which impressed itself on Martin

forcibly. Mr Bevan told them about Mark and the negro, and then it

appeared that all the Norrises were abolitionists. It was a great

relief to hear this, and Martin was so much encouraged on finding

himself in such company, that he expressed his sympathy with the

oppressed and wretched blacks. Now, one of the young ladies--the

prettiest and most delicate--was mightily amused at the earnestness

with which he spoke; and on his craving leave to ask her why, was

quite unable for a time to speak for laughing. As soon however as

she could, she told him that the negroes were such a funny people,

so excessively ludicrous in their manners and appearance, that it

was wholly impossible for those who knew them well, to associate any

serious ideas with such a very absurd part of the creation. Mr

Norris the father, and Mrs Norris the mother, and Miss Norris the

sister, and Mr Norris Junior the brother, and even Mrs Norris Senior

the grandmother, were all of this opinion, and laid it down as an

absolute matter of fact--as if there were nothing in suffering and

slavery, grim enough to cast a solemn air on any human animal;

though it were as ridiculous, physically, as the most grotesque of

apes, or morally, as the mildest Nimrod among tuft-hunting

republicans!

 

'In short,' said Mr Norris the father, settling the question

comfortably, 'there is a natural antipathy between the races.'

 

'Extending,' said Martin's friend, in a low voice, 'to the cruellest

of tortures, and the bargain and sale of unborn generations.'

 

Mr Norris the son said nothing, but he made a wry face, and dusted

his fingers as Hamlet might after getting rid of Yorick's skull;

just as though he had that moment touched a negro, and some of the

black had come off upon his hands.

 

In order that their talk might fall again into its former pleasant

channel, Martin dropped the subject, with a shrewd suspicion that it

would be a dangerous theme to revive under the best of

circumstances; and again addressed himself to the young ladies, who

were very gorgeously attired in very beautiful colours, and had

every article of dress on the same extensive scale as the little

shoes and the thin silk stockings. This suggested to him that they

were great proficients in the French fashions, which soon turned out

to be the case, for though their information appeared to be none of

the newest, it was very extensive; and the eldest sister in

particular, who was distinguished by a talent for metaphysics, the

laws of hydraulic pressure, and the rights of human kind, had a

novel way of combining these acquirements and bringing them to bear

on any subject from Millinery to the Millennium, both inclusive,

which was at once improving and remarkable; so much so, in short,

that it was usually observed to reduce foreigners to a state of

temporary insanity in five minutes.

 

Martin felt his reason going; and as a means of saving himself,

besought the other sister (seeing a piano in the room) to sing.

With this request she willingly complied; and a bravura concert,

solely sustained by the Misses Noriss, presently began. They sang

in all languages--except their own. German, French, Italian,

Spanish, Portuguese, Swiss; but nothing native; nothing so low as

native. For, in this respect, languages are like many other

travellers--ordinary and commonplace enough at home, but 'specially

genteel abroad.

 

There is little doubt that in course of time the Misses Norris would

have come to Hebrew, if they had not been interrupted by an

announcement from the Irishman, who, flinging open the door, cried in

a loud voice--

 

'Jiniral Fladdock!'

 

'My!' cried the sisters, desisting suddenly. 'The general come

back!'

 

As they made the exclamation, the general, attired in full uniform

for a ball, came darting in with such precipitancy that, hitching

his boot in the carpet, and getting his sword between his legs, he

came down headlong, and presented a curious little bald place on the

crown of his head to the eyes of the astonished company. Nor was

this the worst of it; for being rather corpulent and very tight, the

general being down, could not get up again, but lay there writing

and doing such things with his boots, as there is no other instance

of in military history.

 

Of course there was an immediate rush to his assistance; and the

general was promptly raised. But his uniform was so fearfully and

wonderfully made, that he came up stiff and without a bend in him

like a dead Clown, and had no command whatever of himself until he

was put quite flat upon the soles of his feet, when he became

animated as by a miracle, and moving edgewise that he might go in a

narrower compass and be in less danger of fraying the gold lace on

his epaulettes by brushing them against anything, advanced with a

smiling visage to salute the lady of the house.

 

To be sure, it would have been impossible for the family to testify

purer delight and joy than at this unlooked-for appearance of

General Fladdock! The general was as warmly received as if New York

had been in a state of siege and no other general was to be got for

love or money. He shook hands with the Norrises three times all

round, and then reviewed them from a little distance as a brave

commander might, with his ample cloak drawn forward over the right

shoulder and thrown back upon the left side to reveal his manly

breast.

 

'And do I then,' cried the general, 'once again behold the choicest

spirits of my country!'

 

'Yes,' said Mr Norris the father. 'Here we are, general.'

 

Then all the Norrises pressed round the general, inquiring how and

where he had been since the date of his letter, and how he had

enjoyed himself in foreign parts, and particularly and above all, to

what extent he had become acquainted with the great dukes, lords,

viscounts, marquesses, duchesses, knights, and baronets, in whom the

people of those benighted countries had delight.

 

'Well, then, don't ask me,' said the general, holding up his hand.

'I was among 'em all the time, and have got public journals in my

trunk with my name printed'--he lowered his voice and was very

impressive here--'among the fashionable news. But, oh, the

conventionalities of that a-mazing Europe!'

 

'Ah!' cried Mr Norris the father, giving his head a melancholy

shake, and looking towards Martin as though he would say, 'I can't

deny it, sir. I would if I could.'

 

'The limited diffusion of a moral sense in that country!' exclaimed

the general. 'The absence of a moral dignity in man!'

 

'Ah!' sighed all the Norrises, quite overwhelmed with despondency.

 

'I couldn't have realised it,' pursued the general, 'without being

located on the spot. Norris, your imagination is the imagination of

a strong man, but YOU couldn't have realised it, without being

located on the spot!'

 

'Never,' said Mr Norris.

 

'The ex-clusiveness, the pride, the form, the ceremony,' exclaimed

the general, emphasizing the article more vigorously at every

repetition. 'The artificial barriers set up between man and man;

the division of the human race into court cards and plain cards, of

every denomination--into clubs, diamonds, spades--anything but

heart!'

 

'Ah!' cried the whole family. 'Too true, general!'

 

'But stay!' cried Mr Norris the father, taking him by the arm.

'Surely you crossed in the Screw, general?'

 

'Well! so I did,' was the reply.

 

'Possible!' cried the young ladies. 'Only think!'

 

The general seemed at a loss to understand why his having come home

in the Screw should occasion such a sensation, nor did he seem at

all clearer on the subject when Mr Norris, introducing him to

Martin, said:

 

'A fellow-passenger of yours, I think?'

 

'Of mine?' exclaimed the general; 'No!'

 

He had never seen Martin, but Martin had seen him, and recognized

him, now that they stood face to face, as the gentleman who had

stuck his hands in his pockets towards the end of the voyage, and

walked the deck with his nostrils dilated.

 

Everybody looked at Martin. There was no help for it. The truth

must out.

 

'I came over in the same ship as the general,' said Martin, 'but not

in the same cabin. It being necessary for me to observe strict

economy, I took my passage in the steerage.'

 

If the general had been carried up bodily to a loaded cannon, and

required to let it off that moment, he could not have been in a

state of greater consternation than when he heard these words. He,

Fladdock--Fladdock in full militia uniform, Fladdock the General,

Fladdock, the caressed of foreign noblemen--expected to know a

fellow who had come over in the steerage of line-of-packet ship, at

the cost of four pound ten! And meeting that fellow in the very

sanctuary of New York fashion, and nestling in the bosom of the New

York aristocracy! He almost laid his hand upon his sword.

 

A death-like stillness fell upon the Norisses. If this story should

get wind, their country relation had, by his imprudence, for ever

disgraced them. They were the bright particular stars of an exalted

New York sphere. There were other fashionable spheres above them,

and other fashionable spheres below, and none of the stars in any

one of these spheres had anything to say to the stars in any other

of these spheres. But, through all the spheres it would go forth

that the Norrises, deceived by gentlemanly manners and appearances,

had, falling from their high estate, 'received' a dollarless and

unknown man. O guardian eagle of the pure Republic, had they lived

for this!

 

'You will allow me,' said Martin, after a terrible silence, 'to take

my leave. I feel that I am the cause of at least as much

embarrassment here, as I have brought upon myself. But I am bound,

before I go, to exonerate this gentleman, who, in introducing me to

such society, was quite ignorant of my unworthiness, I assure you.'

 

With that he made his bow to the Norrises, and walked out like a man

of snow; very cool externally, but pretty hot within.

 

'Come, come,' said Mr Norris the father, looking with a pale face on

the assembled circle as Martin closed the door, 'the young man has

this night beheld a refinement of social manner, and an easy

magnificence of social decoration, to which he is a stranger in his

own country. Let us hope it may awake a moral sense within him.'

 

If that peculiarly transatlantic article, a moral sense--for, if

native statesmen, orators, and pamphleteers, are to be believed,

America quite monopolises the commodity--if that peculiarly

transatlantic article be supposed to include a benevolent love of

all mankind, certainly Martin's would have borne, just then, a deal

of waking. As he strode along the street, with Mark at his heels,

his immoral sense was in active operation; prompting him to the

utterance of some rather sanguinary remarks, which it was well for

his own credit that nobody overheard. He had so far cooled down,

however, that he had begun to laugh at the recollection of these

incidents, when he heard another step behind him, and turning round

encountered his friend Bevan, quite out of breath.

 

He drew his arm through Martin's, and entreating him to walk slowly,

was silent for some minutes. At length he said:

 

'I hope you exonerate me in another sense?'

 

'How do you mean?' asked Martin.

 

'I hope you acquit me of intending or foreseeing the termination of

our visit. But I scarcely need ask you that.'

 

'Scarcely indeed,' said Martin. 'I am the more beholden to you for

your kindness, when I find what kind of stuff the good citizens here

are made of.'

 

'I reckon,' his friend returned, 'that they are made of pretty much

the same stuff as other folks, if they would but own it, and not set

up on false pretences.'

 

'In good faith, that's true,' said Martin.

 

'I dare say,' resumed his friend, 'you might have such a scene as

that in an English comedy, and not detect any gross improbability or

anomaly in the matter of it?'

 

'Yes, indeed!'

 

'Doubtless it is more ridiculous here than anywhere else,' said his

companion; 'but our professions are to blame for that. So far as I

myself am concerned, I may add that I was perfectly aware from the

first that you came over in the steerage, for I had seen the list of

passengers, and knew it did not comprise your name.'

 

'I feel more obliged to you than before,' said Martin.

 

'Norris is a very good fellow in his way,' observed Mr Bevan.

 

'Is he?' said Martin drily.

 

'Oh yes! there are a hundred good points about him. If you or

anybody else addressed him as another order of being, and sued to

him IN FORMA PAUPERIS, he would be all kindness and consideration.'

 

'I needn't have travelled three thousand miles from home to find

such a character as THAT,' said Martin. Neither he nor his friend

said anything more on the way back; each appearing to find

sufficient occupation in his own thoughts.

 

The tea, or the supper, or whatever else they called the evening

meal, was over when they reached the Major's; but the cloth,

ornamented with a few additional smears and stains, was still upon

the table. At one end of the board Mrs Jefferson Brick and two

other ladies were drinking tea; out of the ordinary course,

evidently, for they were bonneted and shawled, and seemed to have

just come home. By the light of three flaring candles of different

lengths, in as many candlesticks of different patterns, the room

showed to almost as little advantage as in broad day.

 

These ladies were all three talking together in a very loud tone

when Martin and his friend entered; but seeing those gentlemen, they

stopped directly, and became excessively genteel, not to say frosty.

As they went on to exchange some few remarks in whispers, the very

water in the teapot might have fallen twenty degrees in temperature

beneath their chilling coldness.

 

'Have you been to meeting, Mrs Brick?' asked Martin's friend, with

something of a roguish twinkle in his eye.

 

'To lecture, sir.'

 

'I beg your pardon. I forgot. You don't go to meeting, I think?'

 

Here the lady on the right of Mrs Brick gave a pious cough as much

as to say 'I do!'--as, indeed, she did nearly every night in the

week.

 

'A good discourse, ma'am?' asked Mr Bevan, addressing this lady.

 

The lady raised her eyes in a pious manner, and answered 'Yes.' She

had been much comforted by some good, strong, peppery doctrine,

which satisfactorily disposed of all her friends and acquaintances,

and quite settled their business. Her bonnet, too, had far outshone

every bonnet in the congregation; so she was tranquil on all

accounts.

 

'What course of lectures are you attending now, ma'am?' said

Martin's friend, turning again to Mrs Brick.

 

'The Philosophy of the Soul, on Wednesdays.'

 

'On Mondays?'

 

'The Philosophy of Crime.'

 

'On Fridays?'

 

'The Philosophy of Vegetables.'

 

'You have forgotten Thursdays; the Philosophy of Government, my

dear,' observed the third lady.

 

'No,' said Mrs Brick. 'That's Tuesdays.'

 

'So it is!' cried the lady. 'The Philosophy of Matter on Thursdays,

of course.'

 

'You see, Mr Chuzzlewit, our ladies are fully employed,' said Bevan.

 

'Indeed you have reason to say so,' answered Martin. 'Between these

very grave pursuits abroad, and family duties at home, their time

must be pretty well engrossed.'

 

Martin stopped here, for he saw that the ladies regarded him with no

very great favour, though what he had done to deserve the disdainful

expression which appeared in their faces he was at a loss to divine.

But on their going upstairs to their bedrooms--which they very

soon did--Mr Bevan informed him that domestic drudgery was far

beneath the exalted range of these Philosophers, and that the

chances were a hundred to one that not one of the three could

perform the easiest woman's work for herself, or make the simplest

article of dress for any of her children.

 

'Though whether they might not be better employed with such blunt

instruments as knitting-needles than with these edge-tools,' he

said, 'is another question; but I can answer for one thing--they

don't often cut themselves. Devotions and lectures are our balls

and concerts. They go to these places of resort, as an escape from

monotony; look at each other's clothes; and come home again.'

 

'When you say "home," do you mean a house like this?'

 

'Very often. But I see you are tired to death, and will wish you

good night. We will discuss your projects in the morning. You

cannot but feel already that it is useless staying here, with any

hope of advancing them. You will have to go further.'

 

'And to fare worse?' said Martin, pursuing the old adage.

 

'Well, I hope not. But sufficient for the day, you know--good

night'

 

They shook hands heartily and separated. As soon as Martin was left

alone, the excitement of novelty and change which had sustained him

through all the fatigues of the day, departed; and he felt so

thoroughly dejected and worn out, that he even lacked the energy to

crawl upstairs to bed.

 

In twelve or fifteen hours, how great a change had fallen on his

hopes and sanguine plans! New and strange as he was to the ground

on which he stood, and to the air he breathed, he could not--

recalling all that he had crowded into that one day--but entertain a

strong misgiving that his enterprise was doomed. Rash and ill-

considered as it had often looked on shipboard, but had never seemed

on shore, it wore a dismal aspect, now, that frightened him.

Whatever thoughts he called up to his aid, they came upon him in

depressing and discouraging shapes, and gave him no relief. Even

the diamonds on his finger sparkled with the brightness of tears,

and had no ray of hope in all their brilliant lustre.

 

He continued to sit in gloomy rumination by the stove, unmindful of

the boarders who dropped in one by one from their stores and

counting-houses, or the neighbouring bar-rooms, and, after taking

long pulls from a great white waterjug upon the sideboard, and

lingering with a kind of hideous fascination near the brass

spittoons, lounged heavily to bed; until at length Mark Tapley came

and shook him by the arm, supposing him asleep.

 

'Mark!' he cried, starting.

 

'All right, sir,' said that cheerful follower, snuffing with his

fingers the candle he bore. 'It ain't a very large bed, your'n,

sir; and a man as wasn't thirsty might drink, afore breakfast, all

the water you've got to wash in, and afterwards eat the towel. But

you'll sleep without rocking to-night, sir.'

 

'I feel as if the house were on the sea' said Martin, staggering

when he rose; 'and am utterly wretched.'

 

'I'm as jolly as a sandboy, myself, sir,' said Mark. 'But, Lord, I

have reason to be! I ought to have been born here; that's my

opinion. Take care how you go'--for they were now ascending the

stairs. 'You recollect the gentleman aboard the Screw as had the

very small trunk, sir?'

 

'The valise? Yes.'

 

'Well, sir, there's been a delivery of clean clothes from the wash

to-night, and they're put outside the bedroom doors here. If you

take notice as we go up, what a very few shirts there are, and what

a many fronts, you'll penetrate the mystery of his packing.'

 

But Martin was too weary and despondent to take heed of anything, so

had no interest in this discovery. Mr Tapley, nothing dashed by his

indifference, conducted him to the top of the house, and into the

bed-chamber prepared for his reception; which was a very little

narrow room, with half a window in it; a bedstead like a chest

without a lid; two chairs; a piece of carpet, such as shoes are

commonly tried upon at a ready-made establishment in England; a

little looking-glass nailed against the wall; and a washing-table,

with a jug and ewer, that might have been mistaken for a milk-pot and

slop-basin.

 

'I suppose they polish themselves with a dry cloth in this country,'

said Mark. 'They've certainly got a touch of the 'phoby, sir.'

 

'I wish you would pull off my boots for me,' said Martin, dropping

into one of the chairs 'I am quite knocked up--dead beat, Mark.'

 

'You won't say that to-morrow morning, sir,' returned Mr Tapley;

'nor even to-night, sir, when you've made a trial of this.' With

which he produced a very large tumbler, piled up to the brim with

little blocks of clear transparent ice, through which one or two

thin slices of lemon, and a golden liquid of delicious appearance,

appealed from the still depths below, to the loving eye of the

spectator.

 

'What do you call this?' said Martin.

 

But Mr Tapley made no answer; merely plunging a reed into the

mixture--which caused a pleasant commotion among the pieces of ice--

and signifying by an expressive gesture that it was to be pumped up

through that agency by the enraptured drinker.

 

Martin took the glass with an astonished look; applied his lips to

the reed; and cast up his eyes once in ecstasy. He paused no more

until the goblet was drained to the last drop.

 

'There, sir!' said Mark, taking it from him with a triumphant face;

'if ever you should happen to be dead beat again, when I ain't in

the way, all you've got to do is to ask the nearest man to go and

fetch a cobbler.'

 

'To go and fetch a cobbler?' repeated Martin.

 

'This wonderful invention, sir,' said Mark, tenderly patting the

empty glass, 'is called a cobbler. Sherry cobbler when you name it

long; cobbler, when you name it short. Now you're equal to having

your boots took off, and are, in every particular worth mentioning,

another man.'

 

Having delivered himself of this solemn preface, he brought the

bootjack.

 

'Mind! I am not going to relapse, Mark,' said Martin; 'but, good

Heaven, if we should be left in some wild part of this country

without goods or money!'

 

'Well, sir!' replied the imperturbable Tapley; 'from what we've seen

already, I don't know whether, under those circumstances, we

shouldn't do better in the wild parts than in the tame ones.'

 

'Oh, Tom Pinch, Tom Pinch!' said Martin, in a thoughtful tone; 'what

would I give to be again beside you, and able to hear your voice,

though it were even in the old bedroom at Pecksniff's!'

 

'Oh, Dragon, Dragon!' echoed Mark, cheerfully, 'if there warn't any

water between you and me, and nothing faint-hearted-like in going

back, I don't know that I mightn't say the same. But here am I,

Dragon, in New York, America; and there are you in Wiltshire,

Europe; and there's a fortune to make, Dragon, and a beautiful young

lady to make it for; and whenever you go to see the Monument,

Dragon, you mustn't give in on the doorsteps, or you'll never get

up to the top!'

 

'Wisely said, Mark,' cried Martin. 'We must look forward.'

 

'In all the story-books as ever I read, sir, the people as looked

backward was turned into stones,' replied Mark; 'and my opinion

always was, that they brought it on themselves, and it served 'em

right. I wish you good night, sir, and pleasant dreams!'

 

'They must be of home, then,' said Martin, as he lay down in bed.

 

'So I say, too,' whispered Mark Tapley, when he was out of hearing

and in his own room; 'for if there don't come a time afore we're

well out of this, when there'll be a little more credit in keeping

up one's jollity, I'm a United Statesman!'

 

Leaving them to blend and mingle in their sleep the shadows of

objects afar off, as they take fantastic shapes upon the wall in the

dim light of thought without control, be it the part of this slight

chronicle--a dream within a dream--as rapidly to change the scene,

and cross the ocean to the English shore. _

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