FROM WHICH IT WILL BE SEEN THAT MARTIN BECAME A LION OF HIS OWN ACCOUNT. TOGETHER WITH THE REASON WHY As soon as it was generally known in the National Hotel, that the young Englishman, Mr Chuzzlewit, had purchased a ‘lo-cation’ in the Valley of Eden, and intended to betake himself to that earthly Paradise by the next steamboat, he became a popular character. Why this should be, or how it had come to pass, Martin no more knew than Mrs Gamp, of Kingsgate Street, High Holborn, did; but that he was for the time being the lion, by popular election, of the Watertoast community, and that his society was in rather inconvenient request there could be no kind of doubt.
The first notification he received of this change in his position, was the following epistle, written in a thin running hand—with here and there a fat letter or two, to make the general effect more striking—on a sheet of paper, ruled with blue lines.
‘NATIONAL HOTEL, ‘MONDAY MORNING.
‘Dear Sir—‘When I had the privillidge of being your fellow-traveller in the cars, the day before yesterday, you offered some remarks upon the subject of the tower of London, which (in common with my fellow-citizens generally) I could wish to hear repeated to a public audience.
‘As secretary to the Young Men’s Watertoast Association of this town, I am requested to inform you that the Society will be proud to hear you deliver a lecture upon the Tower of London, at their Hall to-morrow evening, at seven o’clock; and as a large issue of quarter-dollar tickets may be expected, your answer and consent by bearer will be considered obliging.
‘Dear Sir,
‘Yours truly,
‘LA FAYETTE KETTLE.
‘The Honourable M. Chuzzlewit.
‘P.S.—The Society would not be particular in limiting you to the Tower of London. Permit me to suggest that any remarks upon the Elements of Geology, or (if more convenient) upon the Writings of your talented and witty countryman, the honourable Mr Miller, would be well received.’
Very much aghast at this invitation, Martin wrote back, civilly declining it; and had scarcely done so, when he received another letter.
‘No. 47, Bunker Hill Street,
‘Monday Morning.
‘(Private).
‘Sir—I was raised in those interminable solitudes where our mighty Mississippi (or Father of Waters) rolls his turbid flood.
‘I am young, and ardent. For there is a poetry in wildness, and every alligator basking in the slime is in himself an Epic, self-contained. I aspirate for fame. It is my yearning and my thirst.
‘Are you, sir, aware of any member of Congress in England, who would undertake to pay my expenses to that country, and for six months after my arrival?
‘There is something within me which gives me the assurance that this enlightened patronage would not be thrown away. In literature or art; the bar, the pulpit, or the stage; in one or other, if not all, I feel that I am certain to succeed.
‘If too much engaged to write to any such yourself, please let me have a list of three or four of those most likely to respond, and I will address them through the Post Office. May I also ask you to favour me with any critical observations that have ever presented themselves to your reflective faculties, on “Cain, a Mystery,” by the Right Honourable Lord Byron?
‘I am, Sir,
‘Yours (forgive me if I add, soaringly),
‘PUTNAM SMIF
‘P.S.—Address your answer to America Junior, Messrs. Hancock & Floby, Dry Goods Store, as above.’
Both of which letters, together with Martin’s reply to each, were, according to a laudable custom, much tending to the promotion of gentlemanly feeling and social confidence, published in the next number of the Watertoast Gazette.
He had scarcely got through this correspondence when Captain Kedgick, the landlord, kindly came upstairs to see how he was getting on. The Captain sat down upon the bed before he spoke; and finding it rather hard, moved to the pillow.
‘Well, sir!’ said the Captain, putting his hat a little more on one side, for it was rather tight in the crown: ‘You’re quite a public man I calc’late.’
‘So it seems,’ retorted Martin, who was very tired.
‘Our citizens, sir,’ pursued the Captain, ‘intend to pay their respects to you. You will have to hold a sort of le-vee, sir, while you’re here.’
‘Powers above!’ cried Martin, ‘I couldn’t do that, my good fellow!’
‘I reckon you must then,’ said the Captain.
‘Must is not a pleasant word, Captain,’ urged Martin.
‘Well! I didn’t fix the mother language, and I can’t unfix it,’ said the Captain coolly; ‘else I’d make it pleasant. You must re-ceive. That’s all.’
‘But why should I receive people who care as much for me as I care for them?’ asked Martin.
‘Well! because I have had a muniment put up in the bar,’ returned the Captain.
‘A what?’ cried Martin.
‘A muniment,’ rejoined the Captain.
Martin looked despairingly at Mark, who informed him that the Captain meant a written notice that Mr Chuzzlewit would receive the Watertoasters that day, at and after two o’clock which was in effect then hanging in the bar, as Mark, from ocular inspection of the same, could testify.
‘You wouldn’t be unpop’lar, I know,’ said the Captain, paring his nails. ‘Our citizens an’t long of riling up, I tell you; and our Gazette could flay you like a wild cat.’
Martin was going to be very wroth, but he thought better of it, and said:
‘In Heaven’s name let them come, then.’
‘Oh, they’ll come,’ returned the Captain. ‘I have seen the big room fixed a’purpose, with my eyes.’
‘But will you,’ said Martin, seeing that the Captain was about to go; ‘will you at least tell me this? What do they want to see me for? what have I done? and how do they happen to have such a sudden interest in me?’
Captain Kedgick put a thumb and three fingers to each side of the brim of his hat; lifted it a little way off his head; put it on again carefully; passed one hand all down his face, beginning at the forehead and ending at the chin; looked at Martin; then at Mark; then at Martin again; winked, and walked out.
‘Upon my life, now!’ said Martin, bringing his hand heavily upon the table; ‘such a perfectly unaccountable fellow as that, I never saw. Mark, what do you say to this?’
‘Why, sir,’ returned his partner, ‘my opinion is that we must have got to the most remarkable man in the country at last. So I hope there’s an end to the breed, sir.’
Although this made Martin laugh, it couldn’t keep off two o’clock. Punctually, as the hour struck, Captain Kedgick returned to hand him to the room of state; and he had no sooner got him safe there, than he bawled down the staircase to his fellow-citizens below, that Mr Chuzzlewit was ‘receiving.’
Up they came with a rush. Up they came until the room was full, and, through the open door, a dismal perspective of more to come, was shown upon the stairs. One after another, one after another, dozen after dozen, score after score, more, more, more, up they came; all shaking hands with Martin. Such varieties of hands, the thick, the thin, the short, the long, the fat, the lean, the coarse, the fine; such differences of temperature, the hot, the cold, the dry, the moist, the flabby; such diversities of grasp, the tight, the loose, the short-lived, and the lingering! Still up, up, up, more, more, more; and ever and anon the Captain’s voice was heard above the crowd—‘There’s more below! there’s more below. Now, gentlemen you that have been introduced to Mr Chuzzlewit, will you clear gentlemen? Will you clear? Will you be so good as clear, gentlemen, and make a little room for more?’
Regardless of the Captain’s cries, they didn’t clear at all, but stood there, bolt upright and staring. Two gentlemen connected with the Watertoast Gazette had come express to get the matter for an article on Martin. They had agreed to divide the labour. One of them took him below the waistcoat. One above. Each stood directly in front of his subject with his head a little on one side, intent on his department. If Martin put one boot before the other, the lower gentleman was down upon him; he rubbed a pimple on his nose, and the upper gentleman booked it. He opened his mouth to speak, and the same gentleman was on one knee before him, looking in at his teeth, with the nice scrutiny of a dentist. Amateurs in the physiognomical and phrenological sciences roved about him with watchful eyes and itching fingers, and sometimes one, more daring than the rest, made a mad grasp at the back of his head, and vanished in the crowd. They had him in all points of view: in front, in profile, three-quarter face, and behind. Those who were not professional or scientific, audibly exchanged opinions on his looks. New lights shone in upon him, in respect of his nose. Contradictory rumours were abroad on the subject of his hair. And still the Captain’s voice was heard—so stifled by the concourse, that he seemed to speak from underneath a feather-bed—exclaiming—‘Gentlemen, you that have been introduced to Mr Chuzzlewit, will you clear?’
Even when they began to clear it was no better; for then a stream of gentlemen, every one with a lady on each arm (exactly like the chorus to the National Anthem when Royalty goes in state to the play), came gliding in—every new group fresher than the last, and bent on staying to the latest moment. If they spoke to him, which was not often, they invariably asked the same questions, in the same tone; with no more remorse, or delicacy, or consideration, than if he had been a figure of stone, purchased, and paid for, and set up there for their delight. Even when, in the slow course of time, these died off, it was as bad as ever, if not worse; for then the boys grew bold, and came in as a class of themselves, and did everything that the grown-up people had done. Uncouth stragglers, too, appeared; men of a ghostly kind, who being in, didn’t know how to get out again; insomuch that one silent gentleman with glazed and fishy eyes and only one button on his waistcoat (which was a very large metal one, and shone prodigiously), got behind the door, and stood there, like a clock, long after everybody else was gone.
Martin felt, from pure fatigue, and heat, and worry, as if he could have fallen on the ground and willingly remained there, if they would but have had the mercy to leave him alone. But as letters and messages, threatening his public denouncement if he didn’t see the senders, poured in like hail; and as more visitors came while he took his coffee by himself; and as Mark, with all his vigilance, was unable to keep them from the door; he resolved to go to bed—not that he felt at all sure of bed being any protection, but that he might not leave a forlorn hope untried.
He had communicated this design to Mark, and was on the eve of escaping, when the door was thrown open in a great hurry, and an elderly gentleman entered; bringing with him a lady who certainly could not be considered young—that was matter of fact; and probably could not be considered handsome—but that was matter of opinion. She was very straight, very tall, and not at all flexible in face or figure. On her head she wore a great straw bonnet, with trimmings of the same, in which she looked as if she had been thatched by an unskillful labourer; and in her hand she held a most enormous fan.
‘Mr Chuzzlewit, I believe?’ said the gentleman.
‘That is my name.’
‘Sir,’ said the gentleman, ‘I am pressed for time.’
‘Thank God!’ thought Martin.
‘I go back Toe my home, sir,’ pursued the gentleman, ‘by the return train, which starts immediate. Start is not a word you use in your country, sir.’
‘Oh yes, it............