Martin Chuzzlewit

by Charles Dickens

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SHOWING WHAT BECAME OF MARTIN AND HIS DESPARATE RESOLVE, AFTER HE LEFTMR PECKSNIFF'S HOUSE; WHAT PERSONS HE ENCOUNTERED; WHAT ANXIETIES HESUFFERED; AND WHAT NEWS HE HEARD

  Carrying Tom Pinch's book quite unconsciously under his arm, and noteven buttoning his coat as a protection against the heavy rain, Martinwent doggedly forward at the same quick pace, until he had passed thefinger-post, and was on the high road to London. He slackened verylittle in his speed even then, but he began to think, and look abouthim, and to disengage his senses from the coil of angry passions whichhitherto had held them prisoner.

  It must be confessed that, at that moment, he had no very agreeableemployment either for his moral or his physical perceptions. The day wasdawning from a patch of watery light in the east, and sullen cloudscame driving up before it, from which the rain descended in a thick, wetmist. It streamed from every twig and bramble in the hedge; made littlegullies in the path; ran down a hundred channels in the road; andpunched innumerable holes into the face of every pond and gutter. Itfell with an oozy, slushy sound among the grass; and made a muddy kennelof every furrow in the ploughed fields. No living creature was anywhereto be seen. The prospect could hardly have been more desolate ifanimated nature had been dissolved in water, and poured down upon theearth again in that form.

  The range of view within the solitary traveller was quite as cheerlessas the scene without. Friendless and penniless; incensed to the lastdegree; deeply wounded in his pride and self-love; full of independentschemes, and perfectly destitute of any means of realizing them; hismost vindictive enemy might have been satisfied with the extent of histroubles. To add to his other miseries, he was by this time sensible ofbeing wet to the skin, and cold at his very heart.

  In this deplorable condition he remembered Mr Pinch's book; morebecause it was rather troublesome to carry, than from any hope of beingcomforted by that parting gift. He looked at the dingy lettering on theback, and finding it to be an odd volume of the 'Bachelor of Salamanca,'in the French tongue, cursed Tom Pinch's folly twenty times. He was onthe point of throwing it away, in his ill-humour and vexation, when hebethought himself that Tom had referred him to a leaf, turned down;and opening it at that place, that he might have additional causeof complaint against him for supposing that any cold scrap of theBachelor's wisdom could cheer him in such circumstances, found!--

  Well, well! not much, but Tom's all. The half-sovereign. He had wrappedit hastily in a piece of paper, and pinned it to the leaf. These wordswere scrawled in pencil on the inside: 'I don't want it indeed. I shouldnot know what to do with it if I had it.'

  There are some falsehoods, Tom, on which men mount, as on bright wings,towards Heaven. There are some truths, cold bitter taunting truths,wherein your worldly scholars are very apt and punctual, which bind mendown to earth with leaden chains. Who would not rather have to fan him,in his dying hour, the lightest feather of a falsehood such as thine,than all the quills that have been plucked from the sharp porcupine,reproachful truth, since time began!

  Martin felt keenly for himself, and he felt this good deed of Tom'skeenly. After a few minutes it had the effect of raising his spirits,and reminding him that he was not altogether destitute, as he had lefta fair stock of clothes behind him, and wore a gold hunting-watch inhis pocket. He found a curious gratification, too, in thinking what awinning fellow he must be to have made such an impression on Tom; and inreflecting how superior he was to Tom; and how much more likely to makehis way in the world. Animated by these thoughts, and strengthened inhis design of endeavouring to push his fortune in another country, heresolved to get to London as a rallying-point, in the best way he could;and to lose no time about it.

  He was ten good miles from the village made illustrious by being theabiding-place of Mr Pecksniff, when he stopped to breakfast at a littleroadside alehouse; and resting upon a high-backed settle before thefire, pulled off his coat, and hung it before the cheerful blaze todry. It was a very different place from the last tavern in which hehad regaled; boasting no greater extent of accommodation than thebrick-floored kitchen yielded; but the mind so soon accommodates itselfto the necessities of the body, that this poor waggoner's house-of-call,which he would have despised yesterday, became now quite a choice hotel;while his dish of eggs and bacon, and his mug of beer, were not byany means the coarse fare he had supposed, but fully bore out theinscription on the window-shutter, which proclaimed those viands to be'Good entertainment for Travellers.'

  He pushed away his empty plate; and with a second mug upon the hearthbefore him, looked thoughtfully at the fire until his eyes ached. Thenhe looked at the highly-coloured scripture pieces on the walls, inlittle black frames like common shaving-glasses, and saw how the WiseMen (with a strong family likeness among them) worshipped in a pinkmanger; and how the Prodigal Son came home in red rags to a purplefather, and already feasted his imagination on a sea-green calf. Then heglanced through the window at the falling rain, coming down aslant uponthe sign-post over against the house, and overflowing the horse-trough;and then he looked at the fire again, and seemed to descry a doubledistant London, retreating among the fragments of the burning wood.

  He had repeated this process in just the same order, many times, asif it were a matter of necessity, when the sound of wheels called hisattention to the window out of its regular turn; and there he beheld akind of light van drawn by four horses, and laden, as well as he couldsee (for it was covered in), with corn and straw. The driver, whowas alone, stopped at the door to water his team, and presently camestamping and shaking the wet off his hat and coat, into the room whereMartin sat.

  He was a red-faced burly young fellow; smart in his way, and with agood-humoured countenance. As he advanced towards the fire he touchedhis shining forehead with the forefinger of his stiff leather glove,by way of salutation; and said (rather unnecessarily) that it was anuncommon wet day.

  'Very wet,' said Martin.

  'I don't know as ever I see a wetter.'

  'I never felt one,' said Martin.

  The driver glanced at Martin's soiled dress, and his damp shirt-sleeves,and his coat hung up to dry; and said, after a pause, as he warmed hishands:

  'You have been caught in it, sir?'

  'Yes,' was the short reply.

  'Out riding, maybe?' said the driver

  'I should have been, if I owned a horse; but I don't,' returned Martin.

  'That's bad,' said the driver.

  'And may be worse,' said Martin.

  Now the driver said 'That's bad,' not so much because Martin didn't owna horse, as because he said he didn't with all the reckless desperationof his mood and circumstances, and so left a great deal to be inferred.Martin put his hands in his pockets and whistled when he had retorted onthe driver; thus giving him to understand that he didn't care a pin forFortune; that he was above pretending to be her favourite when he wasnot; and that he snapped his fingers at her, the driver, and everybodyelse.

  The driver looked at him stealthily for a minute or so; and in thepauses of his warming whistled too. At length he asked, as he pointedhis thumb towards the road.

  'Up or down?'

  'Which IS up?' said Martin.

  'London, of course,' said the driver.

  'Up then,' said Martin. He tossed his head in a careless mannerafterwards, as if he would have added, 'Now you know all about it.'put his hands deeper into his pockets; changed his tune, and whistled alittle louder.

  'I'm going up,' observed the driver; 'Hounslow, ten miles this sideLondon.'

  'Are you?' cried Martin, stopping short and looking at him.

  The driver sprinkled the fire with his wet hat until it hissed again andanswered, 'Aye, to be sure he was.'

  'Why, then,' said Martin, 'I'll be plain with you. You may suppose frommy dress that I have money to spare. I have not. All I can afford forcoach-hire is a crown, for I have but two. If you can take me for that,and my waistcoat, or this silk handkerchief, do. If you can't, leave italone.'r />
  'Short and sweet,' remarked the driver.

  'You want more?' said Martin. 'Then I haven't got more, and I can't getit, so there's an end of that.' Whereupon he began to whistle again.

  'I didn't say I wanted more, did I?' asked the driver, with somethinglike indignation.

  'You didn't say my offer was enough,' rejoined Martin.

  'Why, how could I, when you wouldn't let me? In regard to the waistcoat,I wouldn't have a man's waistcoat, much less a gentleman's waistcoat,on my mind, for no consideration; but the silk handkerchief's anotherthing; and if you was satisfied when we got to Hounslow, I shouldn'tobject to that as a gift.'

  'Is it a bargain, then?' said Martin.

  'Yes, it is,' returned the other.

  'Then finish this beer,' said Martin, handing him the mug, and pullingon his coat with great alacrity; 'and let us be off as soon as youlike.'

  In two minutes more he had paid his bill, which amounted to a shilling;was lying at full length on a truss of straw, high and dry at the topof the van, with the tilt a little open in front for the convenience oftalking to his new friend; and was moving along in the right directionwith a most satisfactory and encouraging briskness.

  The driver's name, as he soon informed Martin, was William Simmons,better known as Bill; and his spruce appearance was sufficientlyexplained by his connection with a large stage-coaching establishment atHounslow, whither he was conveying his load from a farm belonging tothe concern in Wiltshire. He was frequently up and down the road on sucherrands, he said, and to look after the sick and rest horses, of whichanimals he had much to relate that occupied a long time in thetelling. He aspired to the dignity of the regular box, and expectedan appointment on the first vacancy. He was musical besides, and hada little key-bugle in his pocket, on which, whenever the conversationflagged, he played the first part of a great many tunes, and regularlybroke down in the second.

  'Ah!' said Bill, with a sigh, as he drew the back of his hand acrosshis lips, and put this instrument in his pocket, after screwing off themouth-piece to drain it; 'Lummy Ned of the Light Salisbury, HE was theone for musical talents. He WAS a guard. What you may call a Guard'anAngel, was Ned.'

  'Is he dead?' asked Martin.

  'Dead!' replied the other, with a contemptuous emphasis. 'Not he. Youwon't catch Ned a-dying easy. No, no. He knows better than that.'

  'You spoke of him in the past tense,' observed Martin, 'so I supposed hewas no more.

  'He's no more in England,' said Bill, 'if that's what you mean. He wentto the U-nited States.'

  'Did he?' asked Martin, with sudden interest. 'When?'

  'Five year ago, or then about,' said Bill. 'He had set up in the publicline here, and couldn't meet his engagements, so he cut off to Liverpoolone day, without saying anything about it, and went and shipped himselffor the U-nited States.'

  'Well?' said Martin.

  'Well! as he landed there without a penny to bless himself with, ofcourse they wos very glad to see him in the U-nited States.'

  'What do you mean?' asked Martin, with some scorn.

  'What do I mean?' said Bill. 'Why, THAT. All men are alike in theU-nited States, an't they? It makes no odds whether a man has a thousandpound, or nothing, there. Particular in New York, I'm told, where Nedlanded.'

  'New York, was it?' asked Martin, thoughtfully.

  'Yes,' said Bill. 'New York. I know that, because he sent word home thatit brought Old York to his mind, quite vivid, in consequence of being soexactly unlike it in every respect. I don't understand what particularbusiness Ned turned his mind to, when he got there; but he wrote homethat him and his friends was always a-singing, Ale Columbia, and blowingup the President, so I suppose it was something in the public line; orfree-and-easy way again. Anyhow, he made his fortune.'

  'No!' cried Martin.

  'Yes, he did,' said Bill. 'I know that, because he lost it all the dayafter, in six-and-twenty banks as broke. He settled a lot of the noteson his father, when it was ascertained that they was really stopped andsent 'em over with a dutiful letter. I know that, because they wasshown down our yard for the old gentleman's benefit, that he might treathimself with tobacco in the workus.'

  'He was a foolish fellow not to take care of his money when he had it,'said Martin, indignantly.

  'There you're right,' said Bill, 'especially as it was all in paper, andhe might have took care of it so very easy, by folding it up in a smallparcel.'

  Martin said nothing in reply, but soon afterwards fell asleep, andremained so for an hour or more. When he awoke, finding it had ceasedto rain, he took his seat beside the driver, and asked him severalquestions; as how long had the fortunate guard of the Light Salisburybeen in crossing the Atlantic; at what time of the year had he sailed;what was the name of the ship in which he made the voyage; how much hadhe paid for passage-money; did he suffer greatly from sea-sickness?and so forth. But on these points of detail his friend was possessedof little or no information; either answering obviously at random oracknowledging that he had never heard, or had forgotten; nor, althoughhe returned to the charge very often, could he obtain any usefulintelligence on these essential particulars.

  They jogged on all day, and stopped so often--now to refresh, now tochange their team of horses, now to exchange or bring away a set ofharness, now on one point of business, and now upon another, connectedwith the coaching on that line of road--that it was midnight when theyreached Hounslow. A little short of the stables for which the van wasbound, Martin got down, paid his crown, and forced his silk handkerchiefupon his honest friend, notwithstanding the many protestations that hedidn't wish to deprive him of it, with which he tried to give the lie tohis longing looks. That done, they parted company; and when the van haddriven into its own yard and the gates were closed, Martin stood in thedark street, with a pretty strong sense of being shut out, alone, uponthe dreary world, without the key of it.

  But in this moment of despondency, and often afterwards, therecollection of Mr Pecksniff operated as a cordial to him; awakeningin his breast an indignation that was very wholesome in nerving him toobstinate endurance. Under the influence of this fiery dram he startedoff for London without more ado. Arriving there in the middle of thenight, and not knowing where to find a tavern open, he was fain tostroll about the streets and market-places until morning.

  He found himself, about an hour before dawn, in the humbler regionsof the Adelphi; and addressing himself to a man in a fur-cap, who wastaking down the shutters of an obscure public-house, informed himthat he was a stranger, and inquired if he could have a bed there. Ithappened by good luck that he could. Though none of the gaudiest, it wastolerably clean, and Martin felt very glad and grateful when he creptinto it, for warmth, rest, and forgetfulness.

  It was quite late in the afternoon when he awoke; and by the time he hadwashed and dressed, and broken his fast, it was growing dusk again. Thiswas all the better, for it was now a matter of absolute necessity thathe should part with his watch to some obliging pawn-broker. He wouldhave waited until after dark for this purpose, though it had been thelongest day in the year, and he had begun it without a breakfast.

  He passed more Golden Balls than all the jugglers in Europe have juggledwith, in the course of their united performances, before he coulddetermine in favour of any particular shop where those symbols weredisplayed. In the end he came back to one of the first he had seen,and entering by a side-door in a court, where the three balls, with thelegend 'Money Lent,' were repeated in a ghastly transparency, passedinto one of a series of little closets, or private boxes, erected forthe accommodation of the more bashful and uninitiated customers. Hebolted himself in; pulled out his watch; and laid it on the counter.

  'Upon my life and soul!' said a low voice in the next box to the shopmanwho was in treaty with him, 'you must make it more; you must make it atrifle more, you must indeed! You must dispense with one half-quarterof an ounce in weighing out your pound of flesh, my best of friends, andmake it two-and-six.'

 
Martin drew back involuntarily, for he knew the voice at once.

  'You're always full of your chaff,' said the shopman, rolling up thearticle (which looked like a shirt) quite as a matter of course, andnibbing his pen upon the counter.

  'I shall never be full of my wheat,' said Mr Tigg, 'as long as I comehere. Ha, ha! Not bad! Make it two-and-six, my dear friend, positivelyfor this occasion only. Half-a-crown is a delightful coin. Two-and-six.Going at two-and-six! For the last time at two-and-six!'

  'It'll never be the last time till it's quite worn out,' rejoined theshopman. 'It's grown yellow in the service as it is.'

  'Its master has grown yellow in the service, if you mean that, myfriend,' said Mr Tigg; 'in the patriotic service of an ungratefulcountry. You are making it two-and-six, I think?'

  'I'm making it,' returned the shopman, 'what it always has been--twoshillings. Same name as usual, I suppose?'

  'Still the same name,' said Mr Tigg; 'my claim to the dormant peeragenot being yet established by the House of Lords.'

  'The old address?'

  'Not at all,' said Mr Tigg; 'I have removed my town establishment fromthirty-eight, Mayfair, to number fifteen-hundred-and-forty-two, ParkLane.'

  'Come, I'm not going to put down that, you know,' said the shopman witha grin.

  'You may put down what you please, my friend,' quoth Mr Tigg. 'The factis still the same. The apartments for the under-butler and the fifthfootman being of a most confounded low and vulgar kind at thirty-eight,Mayfair, I have been compelled, in my regard for the feelings which dothem so much honour, to take on lease for seven, fourteen, or twenty-oneyears, renewable at the option of the tenant, the elegant and commodiousfamily mansion, number fifteen-hundred-and-forty-two Park Lane. Make ittwo-and-six, and come and see me!'

  The shopman was so highly entertained by this piece of humour that MrTigg himself could not repress some little show of exultation. It venteditself, in part, in a desire to see how the occupant of the nextbox received his pleasantry; to ascertain which he glanced round thepartition, and immediately, by the gaslight, recognized Martin.

  'I wish I may die,' said Mr Tigg, stretching out his body so far thathis head was as much in Martin's little cell as Martin's own head was,'but this is one of the most tremendous meetings in Ancient or ModernHistory! How are you? What is the news from the agricultural districts?How are our friends the P.'s? Ha, ha! David, pay particular attention tothis gentleman immediately, as a friend of mine, I beg.'

  'Here! Please to give me the most you can for this,' said Martin,handing the watch to the shopman. 'I want money sorely.'

  'He wants money, sorely!' cried Mr Tigg with excessive sympathy. 'David,will you have the goodness to do your very utmost for my friend, whowants money sorely. You will deal with my friend as if he were myself.A gold hunting-watch, David, engine-turned, capped and jewelled infour holes, escape movement, horizontal lever, and warranted to performcorrectly, upon my personal reputation, who have observed it narrowlyfor many years, under the most trying circumstances'--here he winkedat Martin, that he might understand this recommendation would have animmense effect upon the shopman; 'what do you say, David, to my friend?Be very particular to deserve my custom and recommendation, David.'

  'I can lend you three pounds on this, if you like' said the shopman toMartin, confidentially. 'It is very old-fashioned. I couldn't say more.'

  'And devilish handsome, too,' cried Mr Tigg. 'Two-twelve-six for thewatch, and seven-and-six for personal regard. I am gratified; it maybe weakness, but I am. Three pounds will do. We take it. The name of myfriend is Smivey: Chicken Smivey, of Holborn, twenty-six-and-a-half B:lodger.' Here he winked at Martin again, to apprise him that all theforms and ceremonies prescribed by law were now complied with, andnothing remained but the receipt for the money.

  In point of fact, this proved to be the case, for Martin, who had noresource but to take what was offered him, signified his acquiescence bya nod of his head, and presently came out with the cash in his pocket.He was joined in the entry by Mr Tigg, who warmly congratulated him, ashe took his arm and accompanied him into the street, on the successfulissue of the negotiation.

  'As for my part in the same,' said Mr Tigg, 'don't mention it. Don'tcompliment me, for I can't bear it!'

  'I have no such intention, I assure you,' retorted Martin, releasing hisarm and stopping.

  'You oblige me very much' said Mr Tigg. 'Thank you.'

  'Now, sir,' observed Martin, biting his lip, 'this is a large town, andwe can easily find different ways in it. If you will show me which isyour way, I will take another.'

  Mr Tigg was about to speak, but Martin interposed:

  'I need scarcely tell you, after what you have just seen, that Ihave nothing to bestow upon your friend Mr Slyme. And it is quite asunnecessary for me to tell you that I don't desire the honour of yourcompany.'

  'Stop' cried Mr Tigg, holding out his hand. 'Hold! There is a mostremarkably long-headed, flowing-bearded, and patriarchal proverb, whichobserves that it is the duty of a man to be just before he is generous.Be just now, and you can be generous presently. Do not confuse me withthe man Slyme. Do not distinguish the man Slyme as a friend of mine, forhe is no such thing. I have been compelled, sir, to abandon the partywhom you call Slyme. I have no knowledge of the party whom you callSlyme. I am, sir,' said Mr Tigg, striking himself upon the breast,'a premium tulip, of a very different growth and cultivation from thecabbage Slyme, sir.'

  'It matters very little to me,' said Martin coolly, 'whether you haveset up as a vagabond on your own account, or are still trading on behalfof Mr Slyme. I wish to hold no correspondence with you. In the devil'sname, man' said Martin, scarcely able, despite his vexation, to repressa smile as Mr Tigg stood leaning his back against the shutters of a shopwindow, adjusting his hair with great composure, 'will you go one way orother?'

  'You will allow me to remind you, sir,' said Mr Tigg, with suddendignity, 'that you--not I--that you--I say emphatically, YOU--havereduced the proceedings of this evening to a cold and distant matter ofbusiness, when I was disposed to place them on a friendly footing.It being made a matter of business, sir, I beg to say that I expecta trifle (which I shall bestow in charity) as commission upon thepecuniary advance, in which I have rendered you my humble services.After the terms in which you have addressed me, sir,' concluded MrTigg, 'you will not insult me, if you please, by offering more thanhalf-a-crown.'

  Martin drew that piece of money from his pocket, and tossed it towardshim. Mr Tigg caught it, looked at it to assure himself of its goodness,spun it in the air after the manner of a pieman, and buttoned it up.Finally, he raised his hat an inch or two from his head with a militaryair, and, after pausing a moment with deep gravity, as to decide inwhich direction he should go, and to what Earl or Marquis among hisfriends he should give the preference in his next call, stuck his handsin his skirt-pockets and swaggered round the corner. Martin took thedirectly opposite course; and so, to his great content, they partedcompany.

  It was with a bitter sense of humiliation that he cursed, again andagain, the mischance of having encountered this man in the pawnbroker'sshop. The only comfort he had in the recollection was, Mr Tigg'svoluntary avowal of a separation between himself and Slyme, that wouldat least prevent his circumstances (so Martin argued) from being knownto any member of his family, the bare possibility of which filled himwith shame and wounded pride. Abstractedly there was greater reason,perhaps, for supposing any declaration of Mr Tigg's to be false, thanfor attaching the least credence to it; but remembering the terms onwhich the intimacy between that gentleman and his bosom friend hadsubsisted, and the strong probability of Mr Tigg's having establishedan independent business of his own on Mr Slyme's connection, it had areasonable appearance of probability; at all events, Martin hoped so;and that went a long way.

  His first step, now that he had a supply of ready money for his presentnecessities, was, to retain his bed at the public-house until furthernotice, and to write a formal note to Tom Pinch
(for he knew Pecksniffwould see it) requesting to have his clothes forwarded to London bycoach, with a direction to be left at the office until called for. Thesemeasures taken, he passed the interval before the box arrived--threedays--in making inquiries relative to American vessels, at the officesof various shipping-agents in the city; and in lingering about the docksand wharves, with the faint hope of stumbling upon some engagementfor the voyage, as clerk or supercargo, or custodian of something orsomebody, which would enable him to procure a free passage. Butfinding, soon, that no such means of employment were likely to presentthemselves, and dreading the consequences of delay, he drew up a shortadvertisement, stating what he wanted, and inserted it in the leadingnewspapers. Pending the receipt of the twenty or thirty answers whichhe vaguely expected, he reduced his wardrobe to the narrowest limitsconsistent with decent respectability, and carried the overplus atdifferent times to the pawnbroker's shop, for conversion into money.

  And it was strange, very strange, even to himself, to find how, byquick though almost imperceptible degrees, he lost his delicacy andself-respect, and gradually came to do that as a matter of course,without the least compunction, which but a few short days before hadgalled him to the quick. The first time he visited the pawnbroker's,he felt on his way there as if every person whom he passed suspectedwhither he was going; and on his way back again, as if the whole humantide he stemmed, knew well where he had come from. When did he care tothink of their discernment now! In his first wanderings up and down theweary streets, he counterfeited the walk of one who had an object inhis view; but soon there came upon him the sauntering, slipshod gait oflistless idleness, and the lounging at street-corners, and plucking andbiting of stray bits of straw, and strolling up and down the same place,and looking into the same shop-windows, with a miserable indifference,fifty times a day. At first, he came out from his lodging with an uneasysense of being observed--even by those chance passers-by, on whom he hadnever looked before, and hundreds to one would never see again--issuingin the morning from a public-house; but now, in his comings-out andgoings-in he did not mind to lounge about the door, or to stand sunninghimself in careless thought beside the wooden stem, studded from head toheel with pegs, on which the beer-pots dangled like so many boughs upona pewter-tree. And yet it took but five weeks to reach the lowest roundof this tall ladder!

  Oh, moralists, who treat of happiness and self-respect, innate in everysphere of life, and shedding light on every grain of dust in God'shighway, so smooth below your carriage-wheels, so rough beneath thetread of naked feet, bethink yourselves in looking on the swift descentof men who HAVE lived in their own esteem, that there are scores ofthousands breathing now, and breathing thick with painful toil, who inthat high respect have never lived at all, nor had a chance of life! Goye, who rest so placidly upon the sacred Bard who had been young,and when he strung his harp was old, and had never seen the righteousforsaken, or his seed begging their bread; go, Teachers of content andhonest pride, into the mine, the mill, the forge, the squalid depths ofdeepest ignorance, and uttermost abyss of man's neglect, and say can anyhopeful plant spring up in air so foul that it extinguishes the soul'sbright torch as fast as it is kindled! And, oh! ye Pharisees of thenineteen hundredth year of Christian Knowledge, who soundingly appealto human nature, see that it be human first. Take heed it has not beentransformed, during your slumber and the sleep of generations, into thenature of the Beasts!

  Five weeks! Of all the twenty or thirty answers, not one had come. Hismoney--even the additional stock he had raised from the disposal of hisspare clothes (and that was not much, for clothes, though dear to buy,are cheap to pawn)--was fast diminishing. Yet what could he do? At timesan agony came over him in which he darted forth again, though he wasbut newly home, and, returning to some place where he had been alreadytwenty times, made some new attempt to gain his end, but alwaysunsuccessfully. He was years and years too old for a cabin-boy, andyears upon years too inexperienced to be accepted as a common seaman.His dress and manner, too, militated fatally against any such proposalas the latter; and yet he was reduced to making it; for even if he couldhave contemplated the being set down in America totally without money,he had not enough left now for a steerage passage and the poorestprovisions upon the voyage.

  It is an illustration of a very common tendency in the mind of man, thatall this time he never once doubted, one may almost say the certaintyof doing great things in the New World, if he could only get there.In proportion as he became more and more dejected by his presentcircumstances, and the means of gaining America receded from his grasp,the more he fretted himself with the conviction that that was the onlyplace in which he could hope to achieve any high end, and worried hisbrain with the thought that men going there in the meanwhile mightanticipate him in the attainment of those objects which were dearest tohis heart. He often thought of John Westlock, and besides looking outfor him on all occasions, actually walked about London for three daystogether for the express purpose of meeting with him. But although hefailed in this; and although he would not have scrupled to borrow moneyof him; and although he believed that John would have lent it; yet stillhe could not bring his mind to write to Pinch and inquire where he wasto be found. For although, as we have seen, he was fond of Tom afterhis own fashion, he could not endure the thought (feeling so superior toTom) of making him the stepping-stone to his fortune, or being anythingto him but a patron; and his pride so revolted from the idea that itrestrained him even now.

  It might have yielded, however; and no doubt must have yielded soon, butfor a very strange and unlooked-for occurrence.

  The five weeks had quite run out, and he was in a truly desperateplight, when one evening, having just returned to his lodging, andbeing in the act of lighting his candle at the gas jet in the bar beforestalking moodily upstairs to his own room, his landlord called him byhis name. Now as he had never told it to the man, but had scrupulouslykept it to himself, he was not a little startled by this; and so plainlyshowed his agitation that the landlord, to reassure him, said 'it wasonly a letter.'

  'A letter!' cried Martin.

  'For Mr Martin Chuzzlewit,' said the landlord, reading thesuperscription of one he held in his hand. 'Noon. Chief office. Paid.'

  Martin took it from him, thanked him, and walked upstairs. It was notsealed, but pasted close; the handwriting was quite unknown to him.He opened it and found enclosed, without any name, address, or otherinscription or explanation of any kind whatever, a Bank of England notefor Twenty Pounds.

  To say that he was perfectly stunned with astonishment and delight; thathe looked again and again at the note and the wrapper; that he hurriedbelow stairs to make quite certain that the note was a good note; andthen hurried up again to satisfy himself for the fiftieth time thathe had not overlooked some scrap of writing on the wrapper; that heexhausted and bewildered himself with conjectures; and could makenothing of it but that there the note was, and he was suddenly enriched;would be only to relate so many matters of course to no purpose. Thefinal upshot of the business at that time was, that he resolved to treathimself to a comfortable but frugal meal in his own chamber; and havingordered a fire to be kindled, went out to purchase it forthwith.

  He bought some cold beef, and ham, and French bread, and butter, andcame back with his pockets pretty heavily laden. It was somewhat ofa damping circumstance to find the room full of smoke, which wasattributable to two causes; firstly, to the flue being naturally viciousand a smoker; and secondly, to their having forgotten, in lighting thefire, an odd sack or two and some trifles, which had been put up thechimney to keep the rain out. They had already remedied this oversight,however; and propped up the window-sash with a bundle of firewood tokeep it open; so that except in being rather inflammatory to the eyesand choking to the lungs, the apartment was quite comfortable.

  Martin was in no vein to quarrel with it, if it had been in lesstolerable order, especially when a gleaming pint of porter was set uponthe table, and the servant-girl withdrew, bearing with her p
articularinstructions relative to the production of something hot when he shouldring the bell. The cold meat being wrapped in a playbill, Martin laidthe cloth by spreading that document on the little round table with theprint downwards, and arranging the collation upon it. The foot of thebed, which was very close to the fire, answered for a sideboard; andwhen he had completed these preparations, he squeezed an old arm-chairinto the warmest corner, and sat down to enjoy himself.

  He had begun to eat with great appetite, glancing round the roommeanwhile with a triumphant anticipation of quitting it for ever on themorrow, when his attention was arrested by a stealthy footstep on thestairs, and presently by a knock at his chamber door, which, althoughit was a gentle knock enough, communicated such a start to the bundle offirewood, that it instantly leaped out of window, and plunged into thestreet.

  'More coals, I suppose,' said Martin. 'Come in!'

  'It an't a liberty, sir, though it seems so,' rejoined a man's voice.'Your servant, sir. Hope you're pretty well, sir.'

  Martin stared at the face that was bowing in the doorway, perfectlyremembering the features and expression, but quite forgetting to whomthey belonged.

  'Tapley, sir,' said his visitor. 'Him as formerly lived at the Dragon,sir, and was forced to leave in consequence of a want of jollity, sir.'

  'To be sure!' cried Martin. 'Why, how did you come here?'

  'Right through the passage, and up the stairs, sir,' said Mark.

  'How did you find me out, I mean?' asked Martin.

  'Why, sir,' said Mark, 'I've passed you once or twice in the street, ifI'm not mistaken; and when I was a-looking in at the beef-and-ham shopjust now, along with a hungry sweep, as was very much calculated to makea man jolly, sir--I see you a-buying that.'

  Martin reddened as he pointed to the table, and said, somewhat hastily:

  'Well! What then?'

  'Why, then, sir,' said Mark, 'I made bold to foller; and as I told 'emdownstairs that you expected me, I was let up.'

  'Are you charged with any message, that you told them you wereexpected?' inquired Martin.

  'No, sir, I an't,' said Mark. 'That was what you may call a pious fraud,sir, that was.'

  Martin cast an angry look at him; but there was something in thefellow's merry face, and in his manner--which with all its cheerfulnesswas far from being obtrusive or familiar--that quite disarmed him.He had lived a solitary life too, for many weeks, and the voice waspleasant in his ear.

  'Tapley,' he said, 'I'll deal openly with you. From all I can judge andfrom all I have heard of you through Pinch, you are not a likely kind offellow to have been brought here by impertinent curiosity or any otheroffensive motive. Sit down. I'm glad to see you.'

  'Thankee, sir,' said Mark. 'I'd as lieve stand.'

  'If you don't sit down,' retorted Martin, 'I'll not talk to you.'

  'Very good, sir,' observed Mark. 'Your will's a law, sir. Down it is;'and he sat down accordingly upon the bedstead.

  'Help yourself,' said Martin, handing him the only knife.

  'Thankee, sir,' rejoined Mark. 'After you've done.'

  'If you don't take it now, you'll not have any,' said Martin.

  'Very good, sir,' rejoined Mark. 'That being your desire--now it is.'With which reply he gravely helped himself and went on eating. Martinhaving done the like for a short time in silence, said abruptly:

  'What are you doing in London?'

  'Nothing at all, sir,' rejoined Mark.

  'How's that?' asked Martin.

  'I want a place,' said Mark.

  'I'm sorry for you,' said Martin.

  '--To attend upon a single gentleman,' resumed Mark. 'If from thecountry the more desirable. Makeshifts would be preferred. Wages noobject.'

  He said this so pointedly, that Martin stopped in his eating, and said:

  'If you mean me--'

  'Yes, I do, sir,' interposed Mark.

  'Then you may judge from my style of living here, of my means of keepinga man-servant. Besides, I am going to America immediately.'

  'Well, sir,' returned Mark, quite unmoved by this intelligence 'from allthat ever I heard about it, I should say America is a very likely sortof place for me to be jolly in!'

  Again Martin looked at him angrily; and again his anger melted away inspite of himself.

  'Lord bless you, sir,' said Mark, 'what is the use of us a-going roundand round, and hiding behind the corner, and dodging up and down, whenwe can come straight to the point in six words? I've had my eye upon youany time this fortnight. I see well enough there's a screw loose inyour affairs. I know'd well enough the first time I see you down at theDragon that it must be so, sooner or later. Now, sir here am I, withouta sitiwation; without any want of wages for a year to come; for I savedup (I didn't mean to do it, but I couldn't help it) at the Dragon--heream I with a liking for what's wentersome, and a liking for you, anda wish to come out strong under circumstances as would keep other mendown; and will you take me, or will you leave me?'

  'How can I take you?' cried Martin.

  'When I say take,' rejoined Mark, 'I mean will you let me go? and when Isay will you let me go, I mean will you let me go along with you? for goI will, somehow or another. Now that you've said America, I see clear atonce, that that's the place for me to be jolly in. Therefore, if I don'tpay my own passage in the ship you go in, sir, I'll pay my own passagein another. And mark my words, if I go alone it shall be, to carry outthe principle, in the rottenest, craziest, leakingest tub of a wesselthat a place can be got in for love or money. So if I'm lost upon theway, sir, there'll be a drowned man at your door--and always a-knockingdouble knocks at it, too, or never trust me!'

  'This is mere folly,' said Martin.

  'Very good, sir,' returned Mark. 'I'm glad to hear it, because if youdon't mean to let me go, you'll be more comfortable, perhaps, on accountof thinking so. Therefore I contradict no gentleman. But all I say is,that if I don't emigrate to America in that case, in the beastliest oldcockle-shell as goes out of port, I'm--'

  'You don't mean what you say, I'm sure,' said Martin.

  'Yes I do,' cried Mark.

  'I tell you I know better,' rejoined Martin.

  'Very good, sir,' said Mark, with the same air of perfect satisfaction.'Let it stand that way at present, sir, and wait and see how it turnsout. Why, love my heart alive! the only doubt I have is, whether there'sany credit in going with a gentleman like you, that's as certain to makehis way there as a gimlet is to go through soft deal.'

  This was touching Martin on his weak point, and having him at a greatadvantage. He could not help thinking, either, what a brisk fellow thisMark was, and how great a change he had wrought in the atmosphere of thedismal little room already.

  'Why, certainly, Mark,' he said, 'I have hopes of doing well there, or Ishouldn't go. I may have the qualifications for doing well, perhaps.'

  'Of course you have, sir,' returned Mark Tapley. 'Everybody knows that.'

  'You see,' said Martin, leaning his chin upon his hand, and looking atthe fire, 'ornamental architecture applied to domestic purposes,can hardly fail to be in great request in that country; for men areconstantly changing their residences there, and moving further off; andit's clear they must have houses to live in.'

  'I should say, sir,' observed Mark, 'that that's a state of things asopens one of the jolliest look-outs for domestic architecture that everI heerd tell on.'

  Martin glanced at him hastily, not feeling quite free from a suspicionthat this remark implied a doubt of the successful issue of his plans.But Mr Tapley was eating the boiled beef and bread with such entire goodfaith and singleness of purpose expressed in his visage that he couldnot but be satisfied. Another doubt arose in his mind however, as thisone disappeared. He produced the blank cover in which the note had beenenclosed, and fixing his eyes on Mark as he put it in his hands, said:

  'Now tell me the truth. Do you know anything about that?'

  Mark turned it over and over; held it near his eyes; held it away fromhim at
arm's length; held it with the superscription upwards and withthe superscription downwards; and shook his head with such a genuineexpression of astonishment at being asked the question, that Martinsaid, as he took it from him again:

  'No, I see you don't. How should you! Though, indeed, your knowing aboutit would not be more extraordinary than its being here. Come, Tapley,'he added, after a moment's thought, 'I'll trust you with my history,such as it is, and then you'll see more clearly what sort of fortunesyou would link yourself to, if you followed me.'

  'I beg your pardon, sir,' said Mark; 'but afore you enter upon itwill you take me if I choose to go? Will you turn off me--MarkTapley--formerly of the Blue Dragon, as can be well recommended by MrPinch, and as wants a gentleman of your strength of mind to look up to;or will you, in climbing the ladder as you're certain to get to thetop of, take me along with you at a respectful distance? Now, sir,'said Mark, 'it's of very little importance to you, I know, there's thedifficulty; but it's of very great importance to me, and will you be sogood as to consider of it?'

  If this were meant as a second appeal to Martin's weak side, founded onhis observation of the effect of the first, Mr Tapley was a skillful andshrewd observer. Whether an intentional or an accidental shot, ithit the mark fully for Martin, relenting more and more, said with acondescension which was inexpressibly delicious to him, after his recenthumiliation:

  'We'll see about it, Tapley. You shall tell me in what disposition youfind yourself to-morrow.'

  'Then, sir,' said Mark, rubbing his hands, 'the job's done. Go on, sir,if you please. I'm all attention.'

  Throwing himself back in his arm-chair, and looking at the fire, withnow and then a glance at Mark, who at such times nodded his head sagely,to express his profound interest and attention. Martin ran over thechief points in his history, to the same effect as he had related them,weeks before, to Mr Pinch. But he adapted them, according to the best ofhis judgment, to Mr Tapley's comprehension; and with that view made aslight of his love affair as he could, and referred to it in very fewwords. But here he reckoned without his host; for Mark's interest waskeenest in this part of the business, and prompted him to ask sundryquestions in relation to it; for which he apologised as one in somemeasure privileged to do so, from having seen (as Martin explained tohim) the young lady at the Blue Dragon.

  'And a young lady as any gentleman ought to feel more proud of being inlove with,' said Mark, energetically, 'don't draw breath.'

  'Aye! You saw her when she was not happy,' said Martin, gazing at thefire again. 'If you had seen her in the old times, indeed--'

  'Why, she certainly was a little down-hearted, sir, and something palerin her colour than I could have wished,' said Mark, 'but none the worsein her looks for that. I think she seemed better, sir, after she come toLondon.'

  Martin withdrew his eyes from the fire; stared at Mark as if he thoughthe had suddenly gone mad; and asked him what he meant.

  'No offence intended, sir,' urged Mark. 'I don't mean to say she was anythe happier without you; but I thought she was a-looking better, sir.'

  'Do you mean to tell me she has been in London?' asked Martin, risinghurriedly, and pushing back his chair.

  'Of course I do,' said Mark, rising too, in great amazement from thebedstead.

  'Do you mean to tell me she is in London now?'

  'Most likely, sir. I mean to say she was a week ago.'

  'And you know where?'

  'Yes!' cried Mark. 'What! Don't you?'

  'My good fellow!' exclaimed Martin, clutching him by both arms, 'I havenever seen her since I left my grandfather's house.'

  'Why, then!' cried Mark, giving the little table such a blow with hisclenched fist that the slices of beef and ham danced upon it, while allhis features seemed, with delight, to be going up into his forehead, andnever coming back again any more, 'if I an't your nat'ral born servant,hired by Fate, there an't such a thing in natur' as a Blue Dragon. What!when I was a-rambling up and down a old churchyard in the City, gettingmyself into a jolly state, didn't I see your grandfather a-toddling toand fro for pretty nigh a mortal hour! Didn't I watch him into Todgers'scommercial boarding-house, and watch him out, and watch him home to hishotel, and go and tell him as his was the service for my money, and Ihad said so, afore I left the Dragon! Wasn't the young lady a-sittingwith him then, and didn't she fall a-laughing in a manner as wasbeautiful to see! Didn't your grandfather say, "Come back again nextweek," and didn't I go next week; and didn't he say that he couldn'tmake up his mind to trust nobody no more; and therefore wouldn't engageme, but at the same time stood something to drink as was handsome! Why,'cried Mr Tapley, with a comical mixture of delight and chagrin, 'where'sthe credit of a man's being jolly under such circumstances! Who couldhelp it, when things come about like this!'

  For some moments Martin stood gazing at him, as if he really doubted theevidence of his senses, and could not believe that Mark stood there, inthe body, before him. At length he asked him whether, if the young ladywere still in London, he thought he could contrive to deliver a letterto her secretly.

  'Do I think I can?' cried Mark. 'THINK I can? Here, sit down, sir. Writeit out, sir!'

  With that he cleared the table by the summary process of tiltingeverything upon it into the fireplace; snatched some writing materialsfrom the mantel-shelf; set Martin's chair before them; forced him downinto it; dipped a pen into the ink; and put it in his hand.

  'Cut away, sir!' cried Mark. 'Make it strong, sir. Let it be werypinted, sir. Do I think so? I should think so. Go to work, sir!'

  Martin required no further adjuration, but went to work at a great rate;while Mr Tapley, installing himself without any more formalities intothe functions of his valet and general attendant, divested himselfof his coat, and went on to clear the fireplace and arrange the room;talking to himself in a low voice the whole time.

  'Jolly sort of lodgings,' said Mark, rubbing his nose with the knob atthe end of the fire-shovel, and looking round the poor chamber; 'that'sa comfort. The rain's come through the roof too. That an't bad. A livelyold bedstead, I'll be bound; popilated by lots of wampires, no doubt.Come! my spirits is a-getting up again. An uncommon ragged nightcapthis. A very good sign. We shall do yet! Here, Jane, my dear,' callingdown the stairs, 'bring up that there hot tumbler for my master as wasa-mixing when I come in. That's right, sir,' to Martin. 'Go at it as ifyou meant it, sir. Be very tender, sir, if you please. You can't make ittoo strong, sir!'