 CHAPTER XVI Martin Disembarks from that noble and fast-sailing line of package ship the screw at the port of New York in the United States of America. He makes some acquaintances and dines at a boarding-house, the particulars of those transactions. Part I Some trifling excitement prevailed upon the very brink and margin of the land of liberty, for an alderman had been elected the day before, and party-feeling naturally running rather high on such an exciting occasion, the friends of the disappointed candidate had found it necessary to assert the great principles of purity of election and freedom of opinion by breaking a few legs and arms, and furthermore pursuing one obnoxious gentleman through the streets with the design of hitting his nose. These good-humored little outbursts of the popular fancy were not in themselves sufficiently remarkable to create any great stir after the lapse of a whole night, but they found fresh life and notoriety in the breath of the news boys, who not only proclaimed them with shrill yells in all the highways and byways of the town upon the wharves and among the shipping, but on the deck and down in the cabins of the steamboat, which, before she touched the shore, was boarded and overrun by a legion of those young citizens. Here's this morning's New York sewer, cried one. Here's this morning's New York stabber. Here's the New York family spy. Here's the New York private listener. Here's the New York peeper. Here's the New York plunderer. Here's the New York keyhole reporter. Here's the New York rowdy journal. Here's all the New York papers. Here's full particulars of the patriotic local focal movement yesterday in which the wigs were so charred up, and the last Alabama gouging case, and the interesting Arkansas duel with bowie knives, and all the political, commercial, and fashionable news. Here they are, here they are. Here's the papers, here's the papers. Here's the sewer, cried another. Here's the New York sewer. Here's some of the 12,000 of today's sewers with the best accounts of the markets and all the shipping news, and four whole columns of country correspondence, and a full account of the ball at Mrs. White's last night, where all the beauty and fashion of New York was assembled, with the sewers' own particulars of the private lives of all the ladies that was there. Here's the sewer. Here's some of the 12,000 of the New York sewer. Here's the sewers' exposure of the Wall Street gang, and the sewers' exposure of the Washington gang, and the sewers' exclusive account of a flagrant act of dishonesty committed by the Secretary of State when he was eight years old. Now communicated at a great expense by his own nurse. Here's the sewer. Here's the New York sewer, and it's 12,000, with a whole column of New Yorkers to be shown up, and all their names printed. Here's the sewers' article upon the judge that tried him, day after yesterday, for libel, and the sewers' tribute to the independent jury that didn't convict him, and the sewers' account of what they might have expected if they had. Here's the sewer. Here's the sewer. Here's the wide-awake sewer. Here's on the lookout, the leading journal of the United States, now in its 12,000, and still a printing off. Here's the New York sewer. It isn't such enlightened means, said a voice, almost in Martin's ear, that the bubbling passions of my country find event. Martin turned involuntarily and saw, standing close at his side, a sallow gentleman with sunken cheeks, black hair, small twinkling eyes, and a singular expression, hovering about that region of his face, which was not a frown, nor a leer, and yet might have been mistaken at the first glance for either. Indeed it would have been difficult, on a much closer acquaintance, to describe it in any more satisfactory terms than as a mixed expression of vulgar cunning and conceit. This gentleman wore a rather broad-brimmed hat for the greater wisdom of his appearance, and had his arms folded for the greater impressiveness of his attitude. He was somewhat shabbily dressed in a blue shirt-out, reaching nearly to his ankles, short loose trousers of the same color, and a faded buff waistcoat, through which a discolored shirt-frill struggled to force itself into notice, as asserting an equality of civil rights with the other portions of his dress, and maintaining a declaration of independence on its own account. His feet, which were of unusually large proportions, were leisurely crossed before him as he half leaned against, half sat upon the steamboat's bower. And his thick cane, shod with a mighty fair-rule at one end, and armed with a great metal knob at the other, depended from a line in tassel on his wrist. Thus attired, and thus composed, into an aspect of great profundity, the gentleman twitched up the right-hand corner of his mouth and his right eye simultaneously, and said once more, It is in such enlightened means that the bubbling passions of my country find event. As he looked at Martin, and nobody else was by, Martin inclined his head and said, You allude to—to the palladium of rational liberty at home, sir, and the dread of foreign oppression abroad, returns the gentleman, as he pointed with his cane, to an uncommonly dirty news-boy with one eye. To the envy of the world, sir, and the leaders of human civilization. Let me ask you, sir, he added, bringing the fair-rule of his stick heavily upon the deck with the air of a man who must not be equivocated with. How do you like my country? I am hardly prepared to answer that question yet, said Martin, seeing that I have not been ashore. Well, I should expect you were not prepared, sir, said the gentleman, to behold such signs of national prosperity as those. He pointed to the vessels lying at the wharves, and then gave a vague flourish with his stick, as if he would include the air and water, generally, in this remark. Really, said Martin, I don't know. Yes, I think I was. The gentleman glanced at him with a knowing look, and said he liked his policy. It was natural, he said, and it pleased him as a philosopher, to observe the prejudices of human nature. You have brought, I see, sir, he said, turning round towards Martin, and resting his chin on the top of his stick. The usual amount of misery and poverty and ignorance and crime to be located in the bosom of the great republic. Well, sir, let him come on in shiploads from the old country. When vessels are about to founder, the rats are said to leave him. There is considerable of truth, I find, in that remark. The old ship will keep afloat a year or two longer yet, perhaps, said Martin, with a smile, partly occasioned by what the gentleman said, partly by his manner of saying it, which was odd enough, for he emphasized all the small words and syllables in his discourse, and left the others to take care of themselves, as if he thought the larger parts of speech could be trusted alone, but the little ones required to be constantly looked after. Hope is said by the poet, sir, observed the gentleman, to be the nurse of young desire. Martin signified that he had heard of the cardinal virtue in question, serving occasionally in that domestic capacity. She will not rear her infant in the present instance, sir, you'll find, observed the gentleman. Time will show, said Martin. The gentleman nodded his head gravely and said, What is your name, sir? Martin told him. How old are you, sir? Martin told him. What is your profession, sir? Martin told him that also. What is your destination, sir? inquired the gentleman. Really, said Martin, laughing, I can't satisfy you in that particular, for I don't know it myself. Yes, said the gentleman. No, said Martin. The gentleman adjusted his cane under his left arm and took a more deliberate and complete survey of Martin than he had yet had leisure to make. When he had completed his inspection, he put out his right hand, shook Martin's hand, and said, My name is Colonel Diver, sir. I am the editor of the New York Rowdy Journal. Martin received the communication with that degree of respect, which an announcement so distinguished appeared to demand. The New York Rowdy Journal, sir, resumed the Colonel, is, as I expect you know, the organ of our aristocracy in this city. Oh, there is an aristocracy here, then, said Martin. Of what is it composed? Of intelligence, sir, replied the Colonel, of intelligence and virtue, and of their necessary consequence in this republic. Dollars, sir. Martin was very glad to hear this, feeling well assured that if intelligence and virtue led, as a matter of course, to the acquisition of dollars, he would speedily become a great capitalist. He was about to express the gratification such news afforded him, when he was interrupted by the captain of the ship who came up at the moment to shake hands with the Colonel, and who, being a well-dressed stranger on the deck, for Martin had thrown aside his cloak, shook hands with him also. This was an unspeakable relief to Martin, who, in spite of the acknowledged supremacy of intelligence and virtue in that happy country, would have been deeply mortified to appear before Colonel Diver in the poor character of a steerage passenger. Well, Captain, said the Colonel. Well, Colonel, cried the Captain, you're looking most uncommon bright, sir. I can hardly realize it's being you, and that's a fact. A good passage, Captain, inquired the Colonel, taking him aside. Well, now it was a pretty spanking run, sir, said, or rather sung the Captain, who was a genuine New Englander, considering the weather. Yes, said the Colonel. Well, it was, sir, said the Captain. I've just now sent a boy up to your office with the passenger list, Colonel. You haven't got another boy to spare, perhaps, Captain, said the Colonel, in a tone almost amounting to severity. I guess there are a dozen if you want them, Colonel, said the Captain. One moderate bigon could convey a dozen champagne, perhaps, observed the Colonel musing to my office. You set a spanking run, I think. Well, so I did, was the reply. It's very nigh, you know, observed the Colonel. I'm glad it was a spanking run, Captain. Don't mind about quarts if you're short of them. The boy can as well bring four and twenty pints and travel twice as once. A first-rate spanker, Captain, was it, yes? A most eternal spanker, said the Skipper. I admire it, your good fortune, Captain. You might loan me a corkscrew at the same time, and half a dozen glasses if you like. However bad the elements combine against my country's noble package ship the screw, sir, said the Colonel, turning to Martin and drawing a flourish on the surface of the deck with his cane. Her passage, either way, is almost certain to eventuate a spanker. The Captain, who had the sewer below at that moment lunching expensively in one cabin, while the amiable stabber was drinking himself into a state of blind madness in another, took a cordial leave of his friend the Colonel and hurried away to dispatch the champagne, well-knowing, as it afterwards appeared, that if he failed to conciliate the editor of the rowdy journal that potentate would denounce him and his ship in large capitals before he was a day older, and would probably assault the memory of his mother also, who had not been dead more than twenty years. The Colonel, being again left alone with Martin, checked him as he was moving away and offered, in consideration of his being an Englishman, to show him the town and to introduce him, if such were his desire, to a gentile boarding-house. But before they entered on these proceedings, he said, he would beseech the honor of his company at the office of the rowdy journal to partake of a bottle of champagne of his own importation. All this was so extremely kind and hospitable that Martin, though it was quite early in the morning, readily acquiesced. So instructing Mark, who was deeply engaged with his friend and her three children, that when he had done assisting them and had cleared the baggage he was to wait for further orders at the rowdy journal office, Martin accompanied his new friend on shore. They made their way, as best they could, through the melancholy crowd of emigrants upon the wharf, who, grouped about their beds and boxes with the bare ground below them and the bare sky above, might have fallen from another planet for anything they knew of the country, and walked for some short distance along a busy street, bounded on one side by the keys and shipping, and on the other by a long row of staring red-brick storehouses and offices ornamented with more black boards and white letters and more white boards and black letters than Martin had ever seen before and fifty times the space. Presently they turned up a narrow street and presently into other narrow streets, until at last they stopped before a house whereon was painted in great characters rowdy journal. The colonel who had walked the whole way with one hand in his breast, his head occasionally wagging from side to side and his hat thrown back upon his ears, like a man who was oppressed to inconvenience by a sense of his own greatness, led the way up a dark and dirty flight of stairs into a room of similar character, all littered and bestrewed with odds and ends of newspapers and other crumpled fragments, both in proof and manuscripts. Behind a mangy old writing-table in this apartment sat a figure with a stump of a pen in its mouth and a great pair of scissors in its right hand clipping and slicing at a file of rowdy journals, and it was such a laughable figure that Martin had some difficulty in preserving his gravity, though conscious of the close observation of Colonel Diver. The individual who sat clipping and slicing as aforesaid at the rowdy journals was a small young gentleman of very juvenile appearance and unwholesomely pale in the face, partly perhaps from intense thought, but partly there is no doubt from the excessive use of tobacco which he was at that moment chewing vigorously. He wore his shirt collar turned down over a black ribbon, and his lank hair, a fragile crop, was not only smooth than parted back from his brow that none of the poetry of his aspect might be lost, but had, here and there, been grubbed up by the roots which accounted for his loftiest developments being somewhat pimply. He had that order of nose on which the envy of mankind has bestowed the appellation's snub, and it was very much turned up at the end as with a lofty scorn. Upon the upper lip of this young gentleman were tokens of a sandy down, so very, very smooth and scant that, though encouraged to the utmost, it looked more like a recent trace of gingerbread than the fair promise of a mustache, and this conjecture his apparently tender age went far to strengthen. He was intent upon his work. Every time he snapped the great pair of scissors he made a corresponding motion with his jaws, which gave him a very terrible appearance. Martin was not long in determining within himself that this must be Colonel Diver's son, the hope of the family and future mainspring of the rowdy journal. Indeed, he had begun to say that he presumed this was the Colonel's little boy, and that it was very pleasant to see him playing at editor in all the guilelessness of childhood, when the Colonel proudly interposed and said, My war correspondent, sir, Mr. Jefferson Brick. Martin could not help starting at this unexpected announcement and the consciousness of the irretrievable mistake he had nearly made. Mr. Brick seemed pleased with the sensation he produced upon the stranger, and shook hands with him with an air of patronage designed to reassure him, and to let him know that there was no occasion to be frightened, for he, Brick, wouldn't hurt him. You have heard of Jefferson Brick, I see, sir, quote the Colonel with a smile. England has heard of Jefferson Brick. Europe has heard of Jefferson Brick. Let me see, when did you leave England, sir? Five weeks ago, said Martin. Five weeks ago, repeated the Colonel thoughtfully, as he took his seat upon the table, and swung his legs. Now let me ask you, sir, which of Mr. Brick's articles had become, at that time, the most obnoxious to the British Parliament and the Court of St. James's? Upon my words, said Martin, I have reason to know, sir, interrupted the Colonel, that the aristocratic circles of your country quail before the name of Jefferson Brick. I should like to be informed, sir, from your lips which of his sentiments has struck the deadliest blow. At the hundred heads of the hydra of corruption, now grumbling in the dust beneath the lance of reason, and spouting up to the universal arch above us at Sanguinary Gore, said Mr. Brick, putting on a little blue cloth cap with a glazed front and quoting his last article. The libation of freedom, Brick, hinted the Colonel, must sometimes be quaffed in blood, Colonel, cried Brick. And when he said blood, he gave the great pair of scissors a sharp snap, as if they said blood, too, and were quite of his opinion. This done they both looked at Martin, pausing for a reply. Upon my life, said Martin, who had by this time quite recovered his usual coolness, I can't give you any satisfactory information about it, for the truth is that I— Stop! cried the Colonel, glancing sternly at his war correspondent, and giving his head one shake after every sentence, that you never heard of Jefferson Brick, sir, that you never read Jefferson Brick, sir, that you never saw the rowdy journal, sir, that you never knew, serve its mighty influence upon the cabinets of Europe, yes? That's what I was about to observe, certainly, said Martin. Keep cool, Jefferson, said the Colonel gravely, don't bust. O you Europeans! After that, let's have a glass of wine. So saying, he got down from the table and produced from a basket outside the door a bottle of champagne and three glasses. Mr. Jefferson Brick, sir, said the Colonel, filling Martin's glass and his own, and pushing the bottle to that gentleman, will give us a sentiment. Well, sir, cried the war correspondent, since you have concluded to call upon me, I will respond. I will give you, sir, the rowdy journal and its brethren, the well of truth, whose waters are black from being composed of printers ink, but are quite clear enough for my country to behold the shadow of her destiny reflected in. Here, here, cried the Colonel, with great complacency, there are flowery components, sir, in the language of my friend. Very much so indeed, said Martin. There is today's rowdy, sir, observed the Colonel, handing him a paper. You'll find Jefferson Brick at his usual post in the van of human civilization and moral purity. The Colonel was, by this time, seated on the table again. Mr. Brick also took up a position on that same piece of furniture, and they fell to drinking pretty hard. They often looked at Martin as he read the paper, and then at each other. When he laid it down, which was not until they had finished a second bottle, the Colonel asked him what he thought of it. Why, it's horribly personal, said Martin. The Colonel seemed much flattered by this remark, and said he hoped it was. We are independent here, sir, said Mr. Jefferson Brick. We do as we like. If I may judge from this specimen, returned Martin, there must be a few thousands here, rather than a reverse of independent, who do as they don't like. Well, they yield to the popular mind of the popular instructor, sir, said the Colonel. They rile up sometimes, but in general we have a hold upon our citizens, both in public and in private life, which is as much one of the ennobling institutions of our happy country as nigger slavery itself, suggested Mr. Brick. Entirely so, remarked the Colonel. Pray, said Martin, after some hesitation. May I venture to ask, with reference to a case I observe in this paper of yours, whether the popular instructor often deals in? I am at a loss to express it without giving you offense. In forgery, in forged letters, for instance, he pursued, for the Colonel was perfectly calm and quite at his ease, solemnly purporting to have been written at recent periods by living men. Well, sir, replied the Colonel, it does now and then. And the popular instructed, what do they do? asked Martin. Buy them, said the Colonel. Mr. Jefferson Brick expectederated and laughed. The former copiously, the latter approvingly. Buy them by hundreds of thousands, resumed the Colonel. We are a smart people here and can appreciate smartness. Is smartness American for forgery, asked Martin? Well, said the Colonel, I expect it's American for a good many things that you call by other names, but you can't help yourself in Europe. We can. And do, sometimes, thought Martin, you help yourselves with very little ceremony, too. At all events, whatever name we choose to employ, said the Colonel, stooping down to roll the third empty bottle into a corner after the other two. I suppose the art of forgery was not invented here, sir. I suppose not, replied Martin. Nor any other kind of smartness, I reckon. Invented? No, I presume not. Well, said the Colonel, then we got it all from the old country, and the old country is to blame for it and not the new one. There's an end of that. Now, if Mr. Jefferson Brick and you will be so good as to clear, I'll come out last and lock the door. Rightly interpreting this as the signal for their departure, Martin walked downstairs after the war correspondent who preceded him with great majesty. The Colonel following, they left the rowdy journal office and walked forth into the streets, Martin feeling doubtful whether he ought to kick the Colonel for having presumed to speak to him or whether it came within the bounds of possibility that he and his establishment could be among the boasted usages of that regenerated land. It was clear that Colonel Diver, in the security of his strong position and in his perfect understanding of the public sentiment, cared very little what Martin or anybody else thought about him. His high-spiced wares were made to sell, and they sold, and his thousands of readers could as rationally charge their delighting filth upon him as a glutton can shift upon his cook the responsibility of his beastly excess. Nothing would have delighted the Colonel more than to be told that no such man as he could walk in high success the streets of any other country in the world. For that would only have been a logical assurance to him of the correct adaptation of his labors to the prevailing taste and of his being strictly and peculiarly a national feature of America. They walked a mile or more along a handsome street which the Colonel said was called Broadway and which Mr. Jefferson Brick said whipped the universe. Looking at length into one of the numerous streets which branched from this main thoroughfare, they stopped before a rather mean-looking house with jealousy blinds to every window, a flight of steps before the green street door, a shining white ornament on the rails on either side like a petrified pineapple polished, a little oblong plate of the same material over the knocker where on the name of Pawkins was engraved and four accidental pigs looking down the area. The Colonel knocked at this house with the air of a man who lived there, and an Irish girl popped her head out of one of the top windows to see who it was. Pending her journey downstairs the pigs were joined by two or three friends from the next street, in company with whom they lay down sociably in the gutter. Is the Major indoors, inquired the Colonel, as he entered? Is it the Master, sir? Returned to the girl, with a hesitation which seemed to imply that they were rather flush of Majors in that establishment. The Master, said Colonel Diver, stopping short and looking round at his war correspondent. Oh, the depressing institutions of that British Empire, Colonel, said Jefferson Brick. Master! What's the matter with the word? asked Martin. I should hope it was never heard in our country, sir. That's all, said Jefferson Brick, except when it is used by some degraded help, as new to the blessings of our form of government, as this help is. There are no Masters here. All owners, are they? said Martin. Mr. Jefferson Brick followed in the rowdy journal's footsteps without returning any answer. Martin took the same course, thinking as he went, that perhaps the free and independent citizens, who in their moral elevation, own the Colonel for their Master, might render better homage to the Goddess Liberty in nightly dreams upon the oven of a Russian surf. End of Chapter 16, Part 1. Chapter 16, Part 2 of Life and Adventures of Martin Cheslowit. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Life and Adventures of Martin Cheslowit by Charles Dickens. Chapter 16, Part 2. The Colonel led the way into a room at the back of the house upon the ground floor, light and of fair dimensions but exquisitely uncomfortable, having nothing in it but the four cold white walls and ceiling, a mean carpet, a dreary waste of dining table, reaching from end to end, and a bewildering collection of cane-bottomed chairs. In the further region of this banqueting hall was a stove, garnished on either side with a great brass spatoon, and shaped in itself like three little iron barrels set up on end in a fender, and joined together on the principle of the Siamese twins. Before it, swinging himself in a rocking chair, lounged a large gentleman with his hat on, who amused himself by spitting alternately into the spatoon on the right hand of the stove and the spatoon on the left, and then working his way back again in the same order. A negro lad in a soiled white jacket was busily engaged in placing on the table two long rows of knives and forks relieved at intervals by jugs of water, and as he traveled down one side of this festive board, he straightened with his dirty hands the dirtier cloth, which was all askew, and had not been removed since breakfast. The atmosphere of this room was rendered intensely hot and stifling by the stove, but being further flavored by a sickly gush of soup from the kitchen, and by such remote suggestions of tobacco as lingered within the brazen receptacles already mentioned, it became, to a stranger's senses, almost insupportable. The gentleman in the rocking chair having his back towards them, and being much engaged in his intellectual pastime, was not aware of their approach until the Colonel, walking up to the stove, contributed his might towards the support of the left hand's platoon, just as the Major, for it was the Major, bore down upon it. Major Pawkins then reserved his fire, and looking upwards said with a peculiar air of quiet weariness, like a man who had been up all night, an air which Martin had already observed both in the Colonel and Mr. Jefferson Brick. Well, Colonel! Here is a gentleman from England, Major, the Colonel replied, who has concluded to locate himself here if the amount of compensation suits him. I am glad to see you, sir, observed the Major, shaking hands with Martin, and not moving a muscle of his face. You are pretty bright, I hope. Never better, said Martin. You are never likely to be, returned the Major. You will see the sunshine here. I think I remember to have seen it shine at home sometimes, said Martin, smiling. I think not, replied the Major. He said so with a stoical indifference, certainly, but still in a tone of firmness which admitted of no further dispute on that point. When he had thus settled the question, he put his hat a little on one side for the greater convenience of scratching his head, and saluted Mr. Jefferson Brick with a lazy nod. Mr. Pawkins, a gentleman of Pennsylvanian origin, was distinguished by a very large skull and a great mass of yellow forehead, in deference to which commodities it was currently held in bar rooms and other such places of resort that the Major was a man of huge sagacity. He was further to be known by a heavy eye and a dull, slow manner, and for being a man of that kind who, mentally speaking, requires a deal of room to turn himself in. But in trading on his stock of wisdom, he invariably proceeded on the principle of putting all the goods he had and more into his window, and that went a great way with his constituency of admirers. It went a great way, perhaps, with Mr. Jefferson Brick, who took occasion to whisper in Martin's ear, one of the most remarkable men in our country, sir. It must not be supposed, however, that the perpetual exhibition in the marketplace of all his stock in trade for sale or hire was the Major's sole claim to a very large share of sympathy and support. He was a great politician, and the one article of his creed, in reference to all public obligations involving the good faith and integrity of his country, was, run a moist pen, slick through everything, and start fresh. This made him a patriot. In commercial affairs he was a bold speculator. In plainer words he had a most distinguished genius for swindling, and could start a bank or negotiate a loan or form a land-jobbing company, entailing ruin, pestilence, and death on hundreds of families, with any gifted creature in the union. This made him an admirable man of business. He could hang about a bar room discussing the affairs of the nation for twelve hours together, and in that time could hold forth with more intolerable dullness, chew more tobacco, smoke more tobacco, drink more rum toddy, mint, julep, gin, sling, and cocktail, than any private gentleman of his acquaintance. This made him an orator, and a man of the people. In a word the Major was a rising character, and a popular character, and was in a fair way to be sent by the popular party to the State House of New York, if not in the end to Washington itself. But as a man's private prosperity does not always keep pace with his patriotic devotion to public affairs, and his fraudulent transactions have their downs as well as ups, the Major was occasionally under a cloud. Hence, just now, Mrs. Pawkins kept a boarding-house, and the Major Pawkins rather loafed his time away than otherwise. "'You have come to visit our country, sir, at a season of great commercial depression,' said the Major. "'At an alarming crisis,' said the Colonel, at a period of unprecedented stagnation,' said Mr. Jefferson Brick. "'I am sorry to hear that,' returned Martin. "'It's not likely to last, I hope.' Martin knew nothing about America, or he would have known perfectly well, that if its individual citizens, to a man, are to be believed, it always is depressed and always is stagnated, and always is at an alarming crisis, and never was otherwise, though as a body they are ready to make oath upon the evangelists at any hour of the day or night, that it is the most thriving and prosperous of all countries on the habitable globe.' "'It's not likely to last, I hope,' said Martin. "'Well,' returned the Major, "'I expect we shall get along somehow and come right in the end.' "'We are an elastic country,' said the rowdy journal. "'We are a young lion,' said Mr. Jefferson Brick. "'We have revivifying and vigorous principles within ourselves,' observed the Major. "'Shall we drink a bitter a-four dinner, Colonel?' The Colonel, assenting to this proposal with great alacrity, Major Pawkins proposed an adjournment to a neighboring bar room, which, as he observed, was only in the next block. He then referred Martin to Mrs. Pawkins for all particulars connected with the rate of board and lodging, and informed him that he would have the pleasure of seeing that lady at dinner, which would soon be ready, as the dinner hour was two o'clock, and it only wanted a quarter now. This reminded him that if the bitter were to be taken at all, there was no time to lose, so he walked off without more ado, and left them to follow if they thought proper. When the Major rose from his rocking chair before the stove, and so disturbed the hot air and balmy whiff of soup which fanned their brows, the odor of stale tobacco became so decidedly prevalent as to leave no doubt of its proceeding mainly from that gentleman's attire. Indeed, as Martin walked behind him to the bar room, he could not help thinking that the great square Major, in his listlessness and languor, looked very much like a stale weed himself, such as might be howed out of the public garden, with great advantage to the decent growth of that preserve, and tossed on some congenial dung hill. They encountered more weeds in the bar room, some of whom, being thirsty souls as well as dirty, were pretty stale in one sense, and pretty fresh in another. Among them was a gentleman who, as Martin gathered from the conversation that took place over the bitter, started that afternoon for the far west on a six-months business tour, and who, as his outfit and equipment for this journey, had just such another shiny hat and just such another little pale valise as had composed the luggage of the gentleman who came from England in the screw. They were walking back very leisurely, Martin arm-in-arm with Mr. Jefferson Brick, and the Major and the Colonel side-by-side before them, when, as they came within a house or two of the Major's residence, they heard a bell ringing violently. The instant this sound struck upon their ears, the Colonel and the Major darted off, dashed up the steps, and in at the street door, which stood ajar, like lunatics, while Mr. Jefferson Brick, detaching his arm from Martin's, made a precipitate dive in the same direction and vanished also. Good heaven, thought Martin, the premises are on fire. It was an alarm bell. But there was no smoke to be seen, nor any flame, nor was there any smell of fire. As Martin faltered on the pavement, three more gentlemen, with horror and agitation depicted in their faces, came plunging wildly round the street corner, jostled each other on the steps, struggled for an instant, and rushed into the house, a confused heap of arms and legs. Unable to bear it any longer, Martin followed. Even in his rapid progress, he was run down, thrust aside, and passed by two more gentlemen, stark mad, as it appeared, with fierce excitement. Where is it, cried Martin breathlessly, to a negro whom he encountered in the passage? In an eaten room, sa, Colonel sa, him kept a seat side himself, sa, a seat, cried Martin, for a din ar, sa. Martin stared at him for a moment and burst into a hearty laugh, to which the negro, out of his natural good humor and desire to please, so heartily responded that his teeth shone like a gleam of light. Here the pleasantest fellow I have seen yet, said Martin, clapping him on the back, and give me a better appetite than bidders. With this sentiment he walked into the dining room and slipped into a chair next to Colonel, which that gentleman, by this time nearly through his dinner, had turned down and reserved for him with its back against the table. It was a numerous company, eighteen or twenty perhaps, of these some five or six were ladies who sat wedged together in a little phalanx by themselves. All the knives and forks were working away at a rate that was quite alarming. Very few words were spoken, and everybody seemed to eat his utmost in self-defense, as if a famine were expected to set in before breakfast time tomorrow morning, and it had become high time to assert the first law of nature. The poultry, which may perhaps be considered to have formed the staple of the entertainment, for there was a turkey at the top, a pair of ducks at the bottom, and two foals in the middle, disappeared as rapidly as if every bird had had the use of its wings and had flown in desperation down a human throat. The oysters, stewed and pickled, leaped from their capacious reservoirs and slid by scores into the mouths of the assembly. The sharpest pickles vanished, whole cucumbers at once, like sugar plums, and no man winked his eye, great heaps of indigestible matter melted away as ice before the sun. It was a solemn and an awful thing to see. Dispeptic individuals bolted their food in wedges, feeding not themselves but broods of nightmares who were continually standing at livery within them. Sparemen with lank and rigid cheeks came out unsatisfied from the destruction of heavy dishes and glared with watchful eyes upon the pastry. But Mrs. Pawkins felt each day at dinner time is hidden from all human knowledge, but she had one comfort it was very soon over. When the Colonel had finished his dinner, which event took place while Martin, who had sent his plate for some turkey, was waiting to begin, he asked him what he thought of the Borders, who were from all parts of the Union, and whether he would like to know any particulars concerning them. Pray, said Martin, who is that sickly little girl opposite with the tight round eyes? I don't see anybody here who looks like her mother, or who seems to have charge of her. Do you mean the matron in blue, sir? asked the Colonel with emphasis. That is Mrs. Jefferson Brick, sir. No, no, said Martin, I mean the little girl, like a doll directly opposite. Well, sir, cried the Colonel, that is Mrs. Jefferson Brick. The matron glanced at the Colonel's face, but he was quite serious. Bless my soul, I suppose there will be a young Brick, then, one of these days, said Martin. There are two young Bricks already, sir, returned the Colonel. The matron looked so uncommonly like a child herself that Martin could not help saying as much. Yes, sir, returned the Colonel, but some institutions develop human nature, others retarded. Then Brick, he observed, after a short silence in commendation of his correspondent, is one of the most remarkable men in our country, sir. This had passed almost in a whisper, for the distinguished gentleman alluded to sat on Martin's other hand. Pray, Mr. Brick, said Martin, turning to him and asking a question more for conversations sake than for many feeling of interest in its subject. Who is that he was going to say young, but thought it prudent to eschew the word? That very short gentleman yonder with the red nose. That is Professor Mullet, sir, replied Jefferson. May I ask what he is professor of, asked Martin? Of education, sir, said Jefferson Brick. A sort of school master, possibly? Martin ventured to observe. He is a man of fine moral elements, sir, and not commonly endowed, said the war correspondent. He felt it necessary at the last election for president to repudiate and denounce his father, who voted on the wrong interest. He has since written some powerful pamphlets under the signature of suit herb, or Brutus reversed. He is one of the most remarkable men in our country, sir. There seemed to be plenty of them, thought Martin, at any rate. Pursuing his inquiries, Martin found that there were no fewer than four majors present, two colonels, one general and a captain, so that he could not help thinking how strongly officer the American militia must be, and wondering very much whether the officers commanded each other, or if they did not, where on earth the privates came from. There seemed to be no man there without a title, for those who had not attained to military honors were either doctors, professors, or reverends. Three very hard and disagreeable gentlemen were on missions from neighboring states. One on monetary affairs, one on political, one on sectarian. Among the ladies there were Mrs. Parkins, who was very straight, bony, and silent, and a wiry-faced old damsel who held strong sentiments touching the rights of women, and had diffused the same in lectures. But the rest were strangely devoid of individual traits of character in so much that any one of them might have changed minds with the other, and nobody would have found it out. These, by the way, were the only members of the party who did not appear to be among the most remarkable people in the country. Several of the gentlemen got up one by one and walked off as they swallowed their last morsel, pausing generally by the stove for a minute or so to refresh themselves at the brass batons. A few sedentary characters, however, remained at table full a quarter of an hour, and did not rise until the ladies rose when all stood up. Where are they going, asked Martin, in the ear of Mr. Jefferson Brick, to their bedrooms, sir? Is there no dessert or other interval of conversation, asked Martin, who was disposed to enjoy himself after his long voyage? We are a busy people here, sir, and have no time for that, was the reply. So the ladies passed out in single file. Mr. Jefferson Brick and such other married gentlemen as were left acknowledging the departure of their other halves by a nod, and there was an end of them. Martin thought this an uncomfortable custom, but he kept his opinion to himself for the present, being anxious to hear and inform himself by the conversation of the busy gentleman who now lounged about the stove as if a great weight had been taken off their minds by the withdrawal of the other sex, and who made a plentiful use of the spittoons and their toothpicks. It was rather barren of interest, to say the truth, and the greater part of it may be summed up in one word, dollars. All their cares, hopes, joys, affections, virtues, and associations seemed to be melted down into dollars. Whatever the chance contributions that fell into the slow cauldron of their talk, they made the gruel thick and slab with dollars. Men were weighed by their dollars, measures gauged by their dollars. Life was auctioneered, appraised, put up and knocked down for its dollars. The next respectable thing to dollars was any venture having their attainment for its end. The more of that worthless ballast, honor and fair dealing which any man cast overboard from the ship of his good name and good intent, the more ample stowage room he had for dollars. Make commerce one huge lie and mighty theft, deface the banner of the nation for an idle rag, pollute it star by star and cut out stripe by stripe as from the arm of a degraded soldier. Do anything for dollars. What is the flag to them? One who rides at all hazards of limb and life in the chase of a fox will prefer to ride recklessly at most times. So it was with these gentlemen. He was the greatest patriot in their eyes who brawled the loudest and who cared the least for decency. He was their champion who, in the brutal fury of his own pursuit, could cast no stigma upon them for the hot navery of theirs. Thus, Martin learned in the five-minute straggling talk about the stove that to carry pistols into legislative assemblies and swords and sticks and other such peaceful toys, to seize opponents by the throat as dogs or rats might do, to bluster, bully and overbear by personal assailment were glowing deeds, not thrusts and stabs at freedom striking far deeper into her house of life than any sultan's scimitar could reach, but rare incense on her altars, having a grateful scent in patriotic nostrils, and curling upward to the seventh heaven of fame. Once or twice, when there was a pause, Martin asked such questions as naturally occurred to him, being a stranger, about the national poets, the theater, literature, and the arts. But the information which these gentlemen were in a condition to give him on such topics did not extend beyond the effusions of such master spirits of the time as Colonel Diver, Mr. Jefferson Brick, and others, renowned, as it appeared, for excellence in the achievement of a peculiar style of broadside essay called a Screamer. We are a busy people, sir, said one of the captains, who is from the West, and have no time for reading mere notions. We don't mind them if they come to us in newspapers along with all mighty strong stuff of another sort, but darn your books. Here the general, who appeared to grow quite faint at the bare thought of reading anything which was neither mercantile nor political, and was not in a newspaper, inquired, if any gentleman would drink some. Most of the company, considering this a very choice and seasonable idea, lounged out one by one to the bar room in the next block, since they probably went to their stores and counting houses, thence to the bar room again to talk once more of dollars, and enlarge their minds with the perusal and discussion of screamers, and thence each man to snore in the bosom of his own family. Which would seem, said Martin, pursuing the current of his own thoughts, to be the principal recreation they enjoy in common. With that he fell amusing again on dollars, demagogues, and bar rooms, debating within himself whether busy people of this class were really as busy as they claimed to be, or only had an inaptitude for social and domestic pleasure. It was a difficult question to solve, and the mere fact of its being strongly presented to his mind by all that he had seen and heard was not encouraging. He sat down at the deserted board, and becoming more and more despondent as he thought of all the uncertainties and difficulties of his precarious situation side heavily. Now there had been at the dinner table a middle-aged man with a dark eye and a sun-burnt face who had attracted Martin's attention by having something very engaging and honest in the expression of his features, but of whom he could learn nothing from either of his neighbors who seemed to consider him quite beneath their notice. He had taken no part in the conversation round the stove, nor had he gone forth with the rest. And now, when he heard Martin sigh for the third or fourth time, he interposed with some casual remark, as if he desired, without obtruding himself upon a stranger's notice, to engage him in cheerful conversation if he could. His motive was so obvious, and yet so delicately expressed, that Martin felt really grateful to him, and showed him so in the manner of his reply. I will not ask you, said this gentleman with a smile, as he rose and moved towards him, how you like my country, for I can quite anticipate your feeling on that point, but as I am an American and consequently bound to begin with a question, I will ask you how you like the Colonel. You are so very frank, returned Martin, that I have no hesitation in saying I don't like him at all, though I must add that I am beholden to him for his civility in bringing me here, and arranging for my stay on pretty reasonable terms, by the way, he added, that the Colonel had whispered him to that effect before going out. Not much beholden, said the stranger, dryly, the Colonel occasionally boards packet ships I have heard to glean the latest information for his journal, and he occasionally brings strangers to board here, I believe, with a view to the little percentage which attaches to those good offices, in which the hostess deducts from his weekly bill. I don't offend you, I hope, he added, seeing that Martin reddened. My dear sir, returned Martin, as they shook hands, how is that possible? To tell you the truth, I am—yes, said the gentleman, sitting down beside him. I am rather at a loss, since I must speak plainly, said Martin, getting the better of his hesitation, to know how this Colonel escapes being beaten. Well, he has been beaten once or twice, remarked the gentleman quietly. He is one of a class of men in whom our own Franklin so long ago as ten years before the close of the last century foresaw our danger and disgrace. Perhaps you don't know that Franklin, in very severe terms, published his opinion that those who were slandered by such fellows as this Colonel, having no sufficient remedy in the administration of this country's laws, or in the decent and right-minded feeling of its people, were justified in retorting on such public nuisances by means of a stout cudgel. I was not aware of that, said Martin, but I am very glad to know it, and I think it worthy of his memory. Especially here he hesitated again. Go on, said the other, smiling as if he knew what stuck in Martin's throat. Especially pursued Martin, as I can already understand that may have required great courage, even in his time, to write freely on any question which was not a party one in this very free country. Some courage, no doubt, returned his new friend. Do you think it would require any to do so now? Indeed, I think it would, and not a little, said Martin. You are right, so very right that I believe no satirist could breathe this air. If another juvenile or swift could rise up among us tomorrow, he would be hunted down. If you have any knowledge of our literature and can give me the name of any man, American born and bred, who has anatomized our follies as a people, and not as this or that party, and who has escaped the foulest and most brutal slander, the most inveterate hatred and intolerant pursuit, it will be a strange name in my ears, believe me. In some cases I could name to you where a native writer has ventured on the most harmless and good-humored illustrations of our vices or defects, it has been found necessary to announce that in a second edition the passage has been expunged or altered or explained away or patched into praise. And how has this been brought about? asked Martin in dismay. Think of what you have seen and heard today beginning with the colonel, said his friend, and asked yourself. How they came about is another question. Heaven forbid that they should be samples of the intelligence and virtue of America, but they come uppermost and in great numbers and too often represented. Will you walk? There was a cordial candor in his manner and an engaging confidence that it would not be abused, a manly bearing on his own part, and a simple reliance on the manly faith of a stranger, which Martin had never seen before. He linked his arm readily in that of the American gentleman, and they walked out together. It was perhaps to men like this, his new companion, that a traveler of honored name who trod those shores now nearly forty years ago, and woke upon that soil as many have done since, to blots and stains upon its high pretensions, which in the brightness of his distant dreams were lost to view, appealed in these words. Oh, but for such, Columbia's days were done, rank without ripeness, quickened without sun, crude at the surface, rotten at the core, her fruits would fall before her spring were End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17, Part 1 of Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit by Charles Dickens Chapter 17 Martin enlarges his circle of acquaintance, increases his stock of wisdom, and has an excellent opportunity of comparing his own experiences with those of Lummi Ned of the Light Salisbury as related by his friend, Mr. William Simmons. Part 1 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 oppressing nature, which might be attended to by and by, 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 behindhand 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 fault, 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 friends know, 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 divide society into two classes, where of 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 wheel to such fortune as may be tied 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 did 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 Pawkins's, 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 daresay, 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 heir 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 anyone 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 rural Britannia with all his might in Maine greeted their ears before they reached the house. On ascending to the spot from once 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 gray-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 case-bottle, and certain broken meats and 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 the 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 madwoman, sir, said Mr. Tapley. Oh, she's all right, sir. Did she find her husband? Yes, sir, least ways 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 agus than is quite reconcilable with being alive. When she didn't see him 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 knowed 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. Bevin, ah, he'd bought land, said Mark, shaking his head, and paid for it, too. Every sort of natural advantage was connected with it, the agent said, and there certainly was one, quite unlimited, no end of the water. It's a thing he couldn't have done without, I suppose, observed Martin peevishly. Certainly not, sir, there it was, anyway. Always turned on at 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, before 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 daresay. 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 there 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 color, 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 color, returned Mark, I mean that he's been one of them as there's pictures of in the shops. A man and a brother, you know, sir, said Mr. Tapley, favoring his master with a significant indication of the figures 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 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 before he dies to one small purchase. It's nothing to speak of, only his own daughter, that's all. cried Mr. Tappley, becoming excited. Liberty forever, 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 by, 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 them. They have 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' boarding-house. Mrs. Pawkins' 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, then 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 temporately 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. Bevin pointed out. Night then coming on apace, Martin proposed that they should adjourn to Mrs. Pawkins' 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 traveling had done him that much good already. Mr. Bevin knocked at the door of a very neat house of moderate size from the parlor 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. Bevin led the way into the room which had shed its cheerfulness upon the street to whose occupants he introduced Mr. Chuzzlewitt 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 18, the other 20, both very slender but very pretty. Their mother, who looked as Martin thought much older and more fated 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 lady's father and the young lady's 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' 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, vicounts, marqueses, duchesses, knights, and baronettes 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 tomorrow. 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 splendor 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 honor. And recollections of what Mr. Norris the father had said to the Marques and of what Mrs. Norris the mother had said to the Marchioness and of what the Marques and Marchioness had both said when they said that upon their words and honors, they wished Mr. Norris the father and Mrs. Norris the mother and the Mrs. Norris the daughters and Mr. Norris Jr. 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 strange 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 Jr. 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. Bevin diverted his thoughts by happening to make some causal inquiry relative to the occupier of the next house and reply to which the same Mr. Norris the father observed that that person entertained religious opinions of which he couldn't approve and therefore he hadn't the honor 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. Bevin told them about Mark and the Negro and then it appeared that all the Norris's 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 Mrs. Norris the sister and Mr. Norris Jr. the brother and even Mrs. Norris Sr. 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 tough tonic 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 cruelest of tortures and the bargain and sale of unborn generations. Mr. Norris the son said nothing but he made a rye 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 colors 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 there were great proficiency 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 is distinguished by a talent for metaphysics, the laws of hydraulic pressure and the rights of humankind had a novel way of combining these requirements and bringing them to bear on any subject from millenary 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. End of chapter 17, part one. Chapter 17, part two of life and adventures of Martin Cheslowit. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Life and Adventures of Martin Cheslowit by Charles Dickens. Chapter 17, part two. 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 Mrs. Norris 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 travelers, ordinary and commonplace enough at home but specially genteel abroad. There is little doubt that in the course of time the Mrs. 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. General Flatic. 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 that 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 epaulets 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 pure delight and joy than at this unlooked for appearance of general flatic. 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 lover money. He shook hands with the Norises 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 choice of spirits of my country. Yes, said Mr. Norris the father, here we are, general. Then all the Norris's 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, marqueses, duchesses, knights and baronettes 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 them 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 amazing 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 Norris's, quite overwhelmed with despondency. I couldn't have realized 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 realized it without being located on the spot. Never, said Mr. Norris. The exclusiveness, the pride, the form, the ceremony, exclaimed the general, emphasizing the article more vigorously at every repetition. The artificial barrier set up between man and man, the division of the human race into court cards and playing 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, flatic, flatic in full militia uniform, flatic the general, flatic the caress of foreign noblemen, expected to know a fellow who had come over in the steerage of line of package ship at the cost of four pound 10 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 Norrises. If this story should get wind, their country relation had by his imprudence forever 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 highest state, 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 monopolizes 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 an 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 Bevin quite out of breath. He drew his arm through Martin's and in treating 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 will quit 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 pretenses. In good faith, that's true, said Martin. I daresay 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. Bevin. Is he, said Martin, dryly. 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 form of Poparis, he would be all kindness and consideration. I needn't have traveled 3,000 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 majors. 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 shalled 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 20 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. Bevin, 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 out shown 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. Chuzzlewitt, our ladies are fully employed, said Bevin. 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 favor, 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. Bevin 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 fair worse, said Martin, pursuing the old adage. Well, I hope not, but sufficient for the day, you know. Good night. They shook hands hardly 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 12 or 15 hours, how great a change had fallen on his hopes and sang when 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 fingers sparkled with the brightness of tears and had no ray of hope in all their brilliant luster. He continued to sit in gloomy rumination by the stove, unmindful of the borders who dropped in one by one from their stores and counting houses or the neighboring bar rooms. And after taking long pulls from a great white water jug upon the sideboard and lingering with a kind of hideous fascination near the brass batons, lounged heavily to bed until at length, Mark Tapley came and shook him by the arms, posing 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, Jorn, sir, and a man as wasn't thirsty might drink before breakfast all the water you've got to wash in and afterwards eat the towel, but you'll sleep without rocking tonight, sir. I feel as if the house were on the sea, said Martin, staggering when he rose and a mutterly 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 has had the very small trunk, sir, the valise, yes. Well, sir, there's been a delivery of clean clothes from the wash tonight, 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 he 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 bed stead 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 slot basin. I suppose they polished themselves with a dry cloth in this country, said Mark. They certainly got a touch of the phobia, 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 tomorrow morning, sir, you won't return, Mr. Tapley, nor even tonight, 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 eyes 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 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 boot jack. 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 taply, 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 Peckstaff's? Oh, dragon, dragon, echoed Mark cheerfully, if there weren'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 them 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 to, whispered Mark Tappley, when he was out of hearing and in his own room, for if there don't come a time before 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 at 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. End of chapter 17.