Martin Chuzzlewit
by our intelligent and locomotive citizens. This is interesting, and
confirms my observation. When you say, sir,’ he continued, addressing
Martin, ‘that your Queen does not reside in the Tower of London, you
fall into an error, not uncommon to your countrymen, even when their
abilities and moral elements air such as to command respect. But, sir,
you air wrong. She DOES live there--’
‘When she is at the Court of Saint James’s,’ interposed Kettle.
‘When she is at the Court of Saint James’s, of course,’ returned the
General, in the same benignant way; ‘for if her location was in Windsor
Pavilion it couldn’t be in London at the same time. Your Tower of
London, sir,’ pursued the General, smiling with a mild consciousness of
his knowledge, ‘is nat’rally your royal residence. Being located in
the immediate neighbourhood of your Parks, your Drives, your Triumphant
Arches, your Opera, and your Royal Almacks, it nat’rally suggests
itself as the place for holding a luxurious and thoughtless court.
And, consequently,’ said the General, ‘consequently, the court is held
there.’
‘Have you been in England?’ asked Martin.
‘In print I have, sir,’ said the General, ‘not otherwise. We air a
reading people here, sir. You will meet with much information among us
that will surprise you, sir.’
‘I have not the least doubt of it,’ returned Martin. But here he was
interrupted by Mr La Fayette Kettle, who whispered in his ear:
‘You know General Choke?’
‘No,’ returned Martin, in the same tone.
‘You know what he is considered?’
‘One of the most remarkable men in the country?’ said Martin, at a
venture.
‘That’s a fact,’ rejoined Kettle. ‘I was sure you must have heard of
him!’
‘I think,’ said Martin, addressing himself to the General again, ‘that
I have the pleasure of being the bearer of a letter of introduction to
you, sir. From Mr Bevan, of Massachusetts,’ he added, giving it to him.
The General took it and read it attentively; now and then stopping to
glance at the two strangers. When he had finished the note, he came over
to Martin, sat down by him, and shook hands.
‘Well!’ he said, ‘and you think of settling in Eden?’
‘Subject to your opinion, and the agent’s advice,’ replied Martin. ‘I am
told there is nothing to be done in the old towns.’
‘I can introduce you to the agent, sir,’ said the General. ‘I know him.
In fact, I am a member of the Eden Land Corporation myself.’
This was serious news to Martin, for his friend had laid great stress
upon the General’s having no connection, as he thought, with any land
company, and therefore being likely to give him disinterested advice.
The General explained that he had joined the Corporation only a few
weeks ago, and that no communication had passed between himself and Mr
Bevan since.
‘We have very little to venture,’ said Martin anxiously--‘only a
few pounds--but it is our all. Now, do you think that for one of my
profession, this would be a speculation with any hope or chance in it?’
‘Well,’ observed the General, gravely, ‘if there wasn’t any hope or
chance in the speculation, it wouldn’t have engaged my dollars, I
opinionate.’
‘I don’t mean for the sellers,’ said Martin. ‘For the buyers--for the
buyers!’
‘For the buyers, sir?’ observed the General, in a most impressive
manner. ‘Well! you come from an old country; from a country, sir, that
has piled up golden calves as high as Babel, and worshipped ‘em for
ages. We are a new country, sir; man is in a more primeval state here,
sir; we have not the excuse of having lapsed in the slow course of time
into degenerate practices; we have no false gods; man, sir, here, is man
in all his dignity. We fought for that or nothing. Here am I, sir,’
said the General, setting up his umbrella to represent himself, and a
villanous-looking umbrella it was; a very bad counter to stand for the
sterling coin of his benevolence, ‘here am I with grey hairs sir, and
a moral sense. Would I, with my principles, invest capital in this
speculation if I didn’t think it full of hopes and chances for my
brother man?’
Martin tried to look convinced, but he thought of New York, and found it
difficult.
‘What are the Great United States for, sir,’ pursued the General ‘if not
for the regeneration of man? But it is nat’ral in you to make such an
enquerry, for you come from England, and you do not know my country.’
‘Then you think,’ said Martin, ‘that allowing for the hardships we are
prepared to undergo, there is a reasonable--Heaven knows we don’t expect
much--a reasonable opening in this place?’
‘A reasonable opening in Eden, sir! But see the agent, see the agent;
see the maps and plans, sir; and conclude to go or stay, according to
the natur’ of the settlement. Eden hadn’t need to go a-begging yet,
sir,’ remarked the General.
‘It is an awful lovely place, sure-ly. And frightful wholesome,
likewise!’ said Mr Kettle, who had made himself a party to this
conversation as a matter of course.
Martin felt that to dispute such testimony, for no better reason
than because he had his secret misgivings on the subject, would be
ungentlemanly and indecent. So he thanked the General for his promise to
put him in personal communication with the agent; and ‘concluded’ to see
that officer next morning. He then begged the General to inform him who
the Watertoast Sympathisers were, of whom he had spoken in addressing Mr
La Fayette Kettle, and on what grievances they bestowed their Sympathy.
To which the General, looking very serious, made answer, that he might
fully enlighten himself on those points to-morrow by attending a Great
Meeting of the Body, which would then be held at the town to which
they were travelling; ‘over which, sir,’ said the General, ‘my
fellow-citizens have called on me to preside.’
They came to their journey’s end late in the evening. Close to the
railway was an immense white edifice, like an ugly hospital, on which
was painted ‘NATIONAL HOTEL.’ There was a wooden gallery or verandah
in front, in which it was rather startling, when the train stopped, to
behold a great many pairs of boots and shoes, and the smoke of a
great many cigars, but no other evidences of human habitation. By slow
degrees, however, some heads and shoulders appeared, and connecting
themselves with the boots and shoes, led to the discovery that certain
gentlemen boarders, who had a fancy for putting their heels where the
gentlemen boarders in other countries usually put their heads, were
enjoying themselves after their own manner in the cool of the evening.
There was a great bar-room in this hotel, and a great public room
in which the general table was being set out for supper. There were
interminable whitewashed staircases, long whitewashed galleries upstairs
and downstairs, scores of little whitewashed bedrooms, and a four-sided
verandah to every story in the house, which formed a large brick square
with an uncomfortable courtyard in the centre, where some clothes were
drying. Here and there, some yawning gentlemen lounged up and down with
their hands in their pockets; but within the house and without, wherever
half a dozen people were collected together, there, in their looks,
dress, morals, manners, habits, intellect, and conversation, were Mr
Jefferson Brick, Colonel Diver, Major Pawkins, General Choke, and Mr
La Fayette Kettle, over, and over, and over again. They did the same
things; said the same things; judged all subjects by, and reduced all
subjects to, the same standard. Observing how they lived, and how they
were always in the enchanting company of each other, Martin even began
to comprehend their being the social, cheerful, winning, airy men they
were.
At the sounding of a dismal gong, this pleasant company went trooping
down from all parts of the house to the public room; while from the
neighbouring stores other guests came flocking in, in shoals; for half
the town, married folks as well as single, resided at the National
Hotel. Tea, coffee, dried meats, tongue, ham, pickles, cake, toast,
preserves, and bread and butter, were swallowed with the usual ravaging
speed; and then, as before, the company dropped off by degrees, and
lounged away to the desk, the counter, or the bar-room. The ladies had a
smaller ordinary of their own, to which their husbands and brothers
were admitted if they chose; and in all other respects they enjoyed
themselves as at Pawkins’s.
‘Now, Mark, my good fellow, said Martin, closing the door of his
little chamber, ‘we must hold a solemn council, for our fate is decided
to-morrow morning. You are determined to invest these savings of yours
in the common stock, are you?’
‘If I hadn’t been determined to make that wentur, sir,’ answered Mr
Tapley, ‘I shouldn’t have come.’
‘How much is there here, did you say’ asked Martin, holding up a little
bag.
‘Thirty-seven pound ten and sixpence. The Savings’ Bank said so at
least. I never counted it. But THEY know, bless you!’ said Mark, with a
shake of the head expressive of his unbounded confidence in the wisdom
and arithmetic of those Institutions.
‘The money we brought with us,’ said Martin, ‘is reduced to a few
shillings less than eight pounds.’
Mr Tapley smiled, and looked all manner of ways, that he might not be
supposed to attach any importance to this fact.
‘Upon the ring--HER ring, Mark,’ said Martin, looking ruefully at his
empty finger--
‘Ah!’ sighed Mr Tapley. ‘Beg your pardon, sir.’
‘--We raised, in English money, fourteen pounds. So, even with that,
your share of the stock is still very much the larger of the two you
see. Now, Mark,’ said Martin, in his old way, just as he might have
spoken to Tom Pinch, ‘I have thought of a means of making this up
to you--more than making it up to you, I hope--and very materially
elevating your prospects in life.’
‘Oh! don’t talk of that, you know, sir,’ returned Mark. ‘I don’t want no
elevating, sir. I’m all right enough, sir, I am.’
‘No, but hear me,’ said Martin, ‘because this is very important to you,
and a great satisfaction to me. Mark, you shall be a partner in the
business; an equal partner with myself. I will put in, as my additional
capital, my professional knowledge and ability; and half the annual
profits, as long as it is carried on, shall be yours.’
Poor Martin! For ever building castles in the air. For ever, in his very
selfishness, forgetful of all but his own teeming hopes and sanguine
plans. Swelling, at that instant, with the consciousness of patronizing
and most munificently rewarding Mark!
‘I don’t know, sir,’ Mark rejoined, much more sadly than his custom was,
though from a very different cause than Martin supposed, ‘what I can say
to this, in the way of thanking you. I’ll stand by you, sir, to the best
of my ability, and to the last. That’s all.’
‘We quite understand each other, my good fellow,’ said Martin rising in
self-approval and condescension. ‘We are no longer master and servant,
but friends and partners; and are mutually gratified. If we determine on
Eden, the business shall be commenced as soon as we get there. Under the
name,’ said Martin, who never hammered upon an idea that wasn’t red hot,
‘under the name of Chuzzlewit and Tapley.’
‘Lord love you, sir,’ cried Mark, ‘don’t have my name in it. I ain’t
acquainted with the business, sir. I must be Co., I must. I’ve often
thought,’ he added, in a low voice, ‘as I should like to know a Co.; but
I little thought as ever I should live to be one.’
‘You shall have your own way, Mark.’
‘Thank’ee, sir. If any country gentleman thereabouts, in the public way,
or otherwise, wanted such a thing as a skittle-ground made, I could take
that part of the bis’ness, sir.’
‘Against any architect in the States,’ said Martin. ‘Get a couple of