CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MARTIN DISEMBARKS FROM THAT NOBLE AND FAST-SAILING LINE-OF-PACKET 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. THEPARTICULARS OF THOSE TRANSACTIONS
Some trifling excitement prevailed upon the very brink and margin of theland of liberty; for an alderman had been elected the day before;and Party Feeling naturally running rather high on such an excitingoccasion, the friends of the disappointed candidate had found itnecessary to assert the great principles of Purity of Election andFreedom of opinion by breaking a few legs and arms, and furthermorepursuing one obnoxious gentleman through the streets with the design ofhitting his nose. These good-humoured little outbursts of the popularfancy were not in themselves sufficiently remarkable to create any greatstir, after the lapse of a whole night; but they found fresh life andnotoriety in the breath of the newsboys, who not only proclaimed themwith shrill yells in all the highways and byways of the town, upon thewharves and among the shipping, but on the deck and down in the cabinsof the steamboat; which, before she touched the shore, was boarded andoverrun by a legion of those young citizens.
'Here's this morning's New York Sewer!' cried one. 'Here's thismorning's New York Stabber! Here's the New York Family Spy! Here's theNew York Private Listener! Here's the New York Peeper! Here's the NewYork Plunderer! Here's the New York Keyhole Reporter! Here's theNew York Rowdy Journal! Here's all the New York papers! Here's fullparticulars of the patriotic locofoco movement yesterday, in whichthe whigs was so chawed up; and the last Alabama gouging case; and theinteresting Arkansas dooel with Bowie knives; and all the Political,Commercial, and Fashionable News. Here they are! Here they are! Here'sthe papers, here's the papers!'
'Here's the Sewer!' cried another. 'Here's the New York Sewer! Here'ssome of the twelfth thousand of to-day's Sewer, with the best accountsof the markets, and all the shipping news, and four whole columns ofcountry correspondence, and a full account of the Ball at Mrs White'slast night, where all the beauty and fashion of New York was assembled;with the Sewer's own particulars of the private lives of all the ladiesthat was there! Here's the Sewer! Here's some of the twelfth thousand ofthe New York Sewer! Here's the Sewer's exposure of the Wall StreetGang, and the Sewer's exposure of the Washington Gang, and the Sewer'sexclusive account of a flagrant act of dishonesty committed by theSecretary of State when he was eight years old; now communicated, at agreat expense, by his own nurse. Here's the Sewer! Here's the New YorkSewer, in its twelfth thousand, with a whole column of New Yorkers to beshown up, and all their names printed! Here's the Sewer's articleupon the Judge that tried him, day afore yesterday, for libel, and theSewer's tribute to the independent Jury that didn't convict him, and theSewer's account of what they might have expected if they had! Here'sthe Sewer, here's the Sewer! Here's the wide-awake Sewer; always on thelookout; the leading Journal of the United States, now in its twelfththousand, and still a-printing off:--Here's the New York Sewer!'
'It is in such enlightened means,' said a voice almost in Martin's ear,'that the bubbling passions of my country find a vent.'
Martin turned involuntarily, and saw, standing close at his side, asallow gentleman, with sunken cheeks, black hair, small twinkling eyes,and a singular expression hovering about that region of his face, whichwas not a frown, nor a leer, and yet might have been mistaken at thefirst glance for either. Indeed it would have been difficult, on a muchcloser acquaintance, to describe it in any more satisfactory terms thanas a mixed expression of vulgar cunning and conceit. This gentleman worea rather broad-brimmed hat for the greater wisdom of his appearance; andhad his arms folded for the greater impressiveness of his attitude. Hewas somewhat shabbily dressed in a blue surtout reaching nearly tohis ankles, short loose trousers of the same colour, and a faded buffwaistcoat, through which a discoloured shirt-frill struggled to forceitself into notice, as asserting an equality of civil rights withthe other portions of his dress, and maintaining a declaration ofIndependence on its own account. His feet, which were of unusuallylarge proportions, were leisurely crossed before him as he half leanedagainst, half sat upon, the steamboat's bulwark; and his thick cane,shod with a mighty ferule at one end and armed with a great metalknob at the other, depended from a line-and-tassel on his wrist. Thusattired, and thus composed into an aspect of great profundity, thegentleman twitched up the right-hand corner of his mouth and his righteye simultaneously, and said, once more:
'It is in such enlightened means that the bubbling passions of mycountry find a vent.'
As he looked at Martin, and nobody else was by, Martin inclined hishead, and said:
'You allude to--?'
'To the Palladium of rational Liberty at home, sir, and the dread ofForeign oppression abroad,' returned the gentleman, as he pointed withhis cane to an uncommonly dirty newsboy with one eye. 'To the Envy ofthe world, sir, and the leaders of Human Civilization. Let me ask yousir,' he added, bringing the ferule of his stick heavily upon the deckwith the air of a man who must not be equivocated with, 'how do you likemy Country?'
'I am hardly prepared to answer that question yet,' said Martin 'seeingthat 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 vagueflourish 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 hispolicy. It was natural, he said, and it pleased him as a philosopher toobserve 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 ofmisery and poverty and ignorance and crime, to be located in the bosomof the great Republic. Well, sir! let 'em come on in shiploads from theold country. When vessels are about to founder, the rats are said toleave 'em. There is considerable of truth, I find, in that remark.'
'The old ship will keep afloat a year or two longer yet, perhaps,' saidMartin with a smile, partly occasioned by what the gentleman said,and partly by his manner of saying it, which was odd enough for heemphasised all the small words and syllables in his discourse, and leftthe others to take care of themselves; as if he thought the larger partsof speech could be trusted alone, but the little ones required to beconstantly looked after.
'Hope is said by the poet, sir,' observed the gentleman, 'to be thenurse of young Desire.'
Martin signified that he had heard of the cardinal virtue in questionserving occasionally in that domestic capacity.
'She will not rear her infant in the present instance, sir, you'llfind,' 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 moredeliberate and complete survey of Martin than he had yet had leisure tomake. 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 RowdyJournal.'
Martin received the communication with that degree of respect which anannouncement so distinguished appeared to demand.
'The New York Rowdy Journal, sir,' resumed the colonel, 'is, as I expectyou know, the organ of our aristocracy in this city.'
'Oh! t
here IS an aristocracy here, then?' said Martin. 'Of what is itcomposed?'
'Of intelligence, sir,' replied the colonel; 'of intelligence andvirtue. And of their necessary consequence in this republic--dollars,sir.'
Martin was very glad to hear this, feeling well assured that ifintelligence and virtue led, as a matter of course, to the acquisitionof dollars, he would speedily become a great capitalist. He was aboutto express the gratification such news afforded him, when he wasinterrupted by the captain of the ship, who came up at the moment toshake hands with the colonel; and who, seeing a well-dressed stranger onthe deck (for Martin had thrown aside his cloak), shook hands with himalso. This was an unspeakable relief to Martin, who, in spite of theacknowledged supremacy of Intelligence and virtue in that happy country,would have been deeply mortified to appear before Colonel Diver in thepoor character of a steerage passenger.
'Well cap'en!' said the colonel.
'Well colonel,' cried the captain. 'You're looking most uncommon bright,sir. I can hardly realise its being you, and that's a fact.'
'A good passage, cap'en?' inquired the colonel, taking him aside,
'Well now! It was a pretty spanking run, sir,' said, or rather sung, thecaptain, who was a genuine New Englander; 'considerin' the weather.'
'Yes?' said the colonel.
'Well! It was, sir,' said the captain. 'I've just now sent a boy up toyour office with the passenger-list, colonel.'
'You haven't got another boy to spare, p'raps, cap'en?' said thecolonel, in a tone almost amounting to severity.
'I guess there air a dozen if you want 'em, colonel,' said the captain.
'One moderate big 'un could convey a dozen champagne, perhaps,' observedthe colonel, musing, 'to my office. You said 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 aspanking run, cap'en. Don't mind about quarts if you're short of 'em.The boy can as well bring four-and-twenty pints, and travel twice asonce.--A first-rate spanker, cap'en, was it? Yes?'
'A most e--tarnal spanker,' said the skipper.
'I admire at your good fortun, cap'en. You might loan me a corkscrew atthe same time, and half-a-dozen glasses if you liked. However bad theelements combine against my country's noble packet-ship, the Screw,sir,' said the colonel, turning to Martin, and drawing a flourish onthe surface of the deck with his cane, 'her passage either way is almostcertain to eventuate a spanker!'
The captain, who had the Sewer below at that moment, lunchingexpensively in one cabin, while the amiable Stabber was drinking himselfinto a state of blind madness in another, took a cordial leave of hisfriend the colonel, and hurried away to dispatch the champagne; wellknowing (as it afterwards appeared) that if he failed to conciliate theeditor of the Rowdy Journal, that potentate would denounce him and hisship in large capitals before he was a day older; and would probablyassault the memory of his mother also, who had not been dead more thantwenty years. The colonel being again left alone with Martin, checkedhim as he was moving away, and offered in consideration of his being anEnglishman, to show him the town and to introduce him, if such were hisdesire, to a genteel boarding-house. But before they entered on theseproceedings (he said), he would beseech the honour of his company at theoffice of the Rowdy Journal, to partake of a bottle of champagne of hisown importation.
All this was so extremely kind and hospitable, that Martin, though itwas quite early in the morning, readily acquiesced. So, instructingMark, 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, Martinaccompanied his new friend on shore.
They made their way as they best could through the melancholy crowd ofemigrants upon the wharf, who, grouped about their beds and boxes, withthe bare ground below them and the bare sky above, might have fallenfrom another planet, for anything they knew of the country; and walkedfor some short distance along a busy street, bounded on one side by thequays and shipping; and on the other by a long row of staring red-brickstorehouses and offices, ornamented with more black boards and whiteletters, and more white boards and black letters, than Martin had everseen before, in fifty times the space. Presently they turned up a narrowstreet, and presently into other narrow streets, until at last theystopped before a house whereon was painted in great characters, 'ROWDYJOURNAL.'
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 backupon his ears, like a man who was oppressed to inconvenience by a senseof his own greatness, led the way up a dark and dirty flight of stairsinto a room of similar character, all littered and bestrewn with oddsand ends of newspapers and other crumpled fragments, both in proof andmanuscript. Behind a mangy old writing-table in this apartment sat afigure with a stump of a pen in its mouth and a great pair of scissorsin its right hand, clipping and slicing at a file of Rowdy Journals;and it was such a laughable figure that Martin had some difficulty inpreserving his gravity, though conscious of the close observation ofColonel Diver.
The individual who sat clipping and slicing as aforesaid at the RowdyJournals, was a small young gentleman of very juvenile appearance, andunwholesomely pale in the face; partly, perhaps, from intense thought,but partly, there is no doubt, from the excessive use of tobacco, whichhe was at that moment chewing vigorously. He wore his shirt-collarturned down over a black ribbon; and his lank hair, a fragile crop, wasnot only smoothed and parted back from his brow, that none of the Poetryof his aspect might be lost, but had, here and there, been grubbed up bythe roots; which accounted for his loftiest developments being somewhatpimply. He had that order of nose on which the envy of mankind hasbestowed the appellation 'snub,' and it was very much turned up at theend, as with a lofty scorn. Upon the upper lip of this young gentlemanwere tokens of a sandy down; so very, very smooth and scant, that,though encouraged to the utmost, it looked more like a recent trace ofgingerbread than the fair promise of a moustache; and this conjecture,his apparently tender age went far to strengthen. He was intent uponhis work. Every time he snapped the great pair of scissors, he madea corresponding motion with his jaws, which gave him a very terribleappearance.
Martin was not long in determining within himself that this must beColonel Diver's son; the hope of the family, and future mainspring ofthe Rowdy Journal. Indeed he had begun to say that he presumed thiswas the colonel's little boy, and that it was very pleasant to seehim playing at Editor in all the guilelessness of childhood, when thecolonel proudly interposed and said:
'My War Correspondent, sir--Mr Jefferson Brick!'
Martin could not help starting at this unexpected announcement, and theconsciousness of the irretrievable mistake he had nearly made.
Mr Brick seemed pleased with the sensation he produced upon thestranger, and shook hands with him, with an air of patronage designedto reassure him, and to let him blow that there was no occasion to befrightened, for he (Brick) wouldn't hurt him.
'You have heard of Jefferson Brick, I see, sir,' quoth the colonel,with a smile. 'England has heard of Jefferson Brick. Europe has heard ofJefferson 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 hisseat upon the table, and swung his legs. 'Now let me ask you, sir whichof Mr Brick's articles had become at that time the most obnoxious to theBritish Parliament and the Court of Saint James's?'
'Upon my word,' said Martin, 'I--'
'I have reason to know, sir,' interrupted the colonel, 'that thearistocratic circles of your country quail before the name of JeffersonBrick. I should like to be informed, sir, from your lips, which of hissentiments has struck the deadliest blow--'
'At the hundred heads of the Hydra of Corruption now grovelling in thedust beneath the lance of Reason, and spouting up to the universal archabove us, its sanguinary
gore,' said Mr Brick, putting on a little bluecloth 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 whenhe said 'blood,' he gave the great pair of scissors a sharp snap, as ifTHEY 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 hisusual 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 andgiving his head one shake after every sentence. 'That you never heard ofJefferson Brick, sir. That you never read Jefferson Brick, sir. Thatyou never saw the Rowdy Journal, sir. That you never knew, sir, of itsmighty 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! oh youEuropeans! After that, let's have a glass of wine!' So saying, he gotdown from the table, and produced, from a basket outside the door, abottle of champagne, and three glasses.
'Mr Jefferson Brick, sir,' said the colonel, filling Martin's glassand his own, and pushing the bottle to that gentleman, 'will give us asentiment.'
'Well, sir!' cried the war correspondent, 'Since you have concluded tocall upon me, I will respond. I will give you, sir, The Rowdy Journaland its brethren; the well of Truth, whose waters are black from beingcomposed of printers' ink, but are quite clear enough for my country tobehold the shadow of her Destiny reflected in.'
'Hear, hear!' cried the colonel, with great complacency. 'There areflowery components, sir, in the language of my friend?'
'Very much so, indeed,' said Martin.
'There is to-day's Rowdy, sir,' observed the colonel, handing him apaper. 'You'll find Jefferson Brick at his usual post in the van ofhuman civilization and moral purity.'
The colonel was by this time seated on the table again. Mr Brick alsotook up a position on that same piece of furniture; and they fell todrinking 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 theyhad finished a second bottle, the colonel asked him what he thought ofit.
'Why, it's horribly personal,' said Martin.
The colonel seemed much flattered by this remark; and said he hoped itwas.
'We are independent here, sir,' said Mr Jefferson Brick. 'We do as welike.'
'If I may judge from this specimen,' returned Martin, 'there must be afew thousands here, rather the reverse of independent, who do as theydon'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 ahold upon our citizens, both in public and in private life, which is asmuch one of the ennobling institutions of our happy country as--'
'As nigger slavery itself,' suggested Mr Brick.
'En--tirely 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 thePopular Instructor often deals in--I am at a loss to express it withoutgiving you offence--in forgery? In forged letters, for instance,' hepursued, for the colonel was perfectly calm and quite at his ease,'solemnly purporting to have been written at recent periods by livingmen?'
'Well, sir!' replied the colonel. 'It does, now and then.'
'And the popular instructed--what do they do?' asked Martin.
'Buy 'em:' said the colonel.
Mr Jefferson Brick expectorated and laughed; the former copiously, thelatter approvingly.
'Buy 'em by hundreds of thousands,' resumed the colonel. 'We are a smartpeople 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 thingsthat you call by other names. But you can't help yourself in Europe. Wecan.'
'And do, sometimes,' thought Martin. 'You help yourselves with verylittle 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 theother 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, andthe old country's to blame for it, and not the new 'un. There's an endof 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, Martinwalked downstairs after the war correspondent, who preceded him withgreat majesty. The colonel following, they left the Rowdy Journal Officeand walked forth into the streets; Martin feeling doubtful whetherhe ought to kick the colonel for having presumed to speak to him,or whether it came within the bounds of possibility that he and hisestablishment could be among the boasted usages of that regeneratedland.
It was clear that Colonel Diver, in the security of his strong position,and in his perfect understanding of the public sentiment, cared verylittle what Martin or anybody else thought about him. His high-spicedwares were made to sell, and they sold; and his thousands of readerscould as rationally charge their delight in filth upon him, as a gluttoncan shift upon his cook the responsibility of his beastly excess.Nothing would have delighted the colonel more than to be told thatno such man as he could walk in high success the streets of any othercountry in the world; for that would only have been a logical assuranceto him of the correct adaptation of his labours 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 colonelsaid was called Broadway, and which Mr Jefferson Brick said 'whipped theuniverse.' Turning, at length, into one of the numerous streets whichbranched from this main thoroughfare, they stopped before a rathermean-looking house with jalousie blinds to every window; a flight ofsteps before the green street-door; a shining white ornament on therails on either side like a petrified pineapple, polished; a littleoblong plate of the same material over the knocker whereon 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 seewho it was. Pending her journey downstairs, the pigs were joined by twoor three friends from the next street, in company with whom they laydown sociably in the gutter.
'Is the major indoors?' inquired the colonel, as he entered.
'Is it the master, sir?' returned the girl, with a hesitationwhich seemed to imply that they were rather flush of majors in thatestablishment.
'The master!' said Colonel Diver, stopping short and looking round athis war correspondent.
'Oh! The depressing institutions of that British empire, colonel!' saidJefferson 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,' saidJefferson Brick; 'except when it is used by some degraded Help, as newto the blessings of our form of government, as this Help is. There areno masters here.'
'All "owners," are they?' said Martin.
Mr Jefferson Brick followed in the Rowdy Journal's footsteps withoutreturning any answer. Martin took the same course, thinking as he went,that perhaps the free and independent citizens, who in their moralelevation, owned the colonel for their master, might render betterhomage to the goddess, Liberty, in nightly dreams upon the oven of aRussian Serf.
The colonel led the way into a room at the back of the house uponthe ground-floor, light, and of fair dimensions, but exquisitelyuncomfortable; havi
ng nothing in it but the four cold white walls andceiling, a mean carpet, a dreary waste of dining-table reaching fromend to end, and a bewildering collection of cane-bottomed chairs. In thefurther region of this banqueting-hall was a stove, garnished on eitherside with a great brass spittoon, and shaped in itself like three littleiron barrels set up on end in a fender, and joined together on theprinciple of the Siamese Twins. Before it, swinging himself in arocking-chair, lounged a large gentleman with his hat on, who amusedhimself by spitting alternately into the spittoon on the right hand ofthe stove, and the spittoon on the left, and then working his way backagain in the same order. A negro lad in a soiled white jacket was busilyengaged in placing on the table two long rows of knives and forks,relieved at intervals by jugs of water; and as he travelled down oneside of this festive board, he straightened with his dirty hands thedirtier cloth, which was all askew, and had not been removed sincebreakfast. The atmosphere of this room was rendered intensely hot andstifling by the stove; but being further flavoured by a sickly gushof soup from the kitchen, and by such remote suggestions of tobacco aslingered within the brazen receptacles already mentioned, it became, toa stranger's senses, almost insupportable.
The gentleman in the rocking-chair having his back towards them, andbeing much engaged in his intellectual pastime, was not aware of theirapproach until the colonel, walking up to the stove, contributedhis mite towards the support of the left-hand spittoon, just as themajor--for it was the major--bore down upon it. Major Pawkins thenreserved his fire, and looking upward, said, with a peculiar air ofquiet weariness, like a man who had been up all night--an air whichMartin had already observed both in the colonel and Mr Jefferson Brick--
'Well, colonel!'
'Here is a gentleman from England, major,' the colonel replied, 'whohas concluded to locate himself here if the amount of compensation suitshim.'
'I am glad to see you, sir,' observed the major, shaking hands withMartin, and not moving a muscle of his face. 'You are pretty bright, Ihope?'
'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,' saidMartin, smiling.
'I think not,' replied the major. He said so with a stoical indifferencecertainly, but still in a tone of firmness which admitted of no furtherdispute on that point. When he had thus settled the question, he put hishat a little on one side for the greater convenience of scratching hishead, and saluted Mr Jefferson Brick with a lazy nod.
Major Pawkins (a gentleman of Pennsylvanian origin) was distinguished bya very large skull, and a great mass of yellow forehead; in deferenceto which commodities it was currently held in bar-rooms and other suchplaces of resort that the major was a man of huge sagacity. He wasfurther to be known by a heavy eye and a dull slow manner; and for beinga man of that kind who--mentally speaking--requires a deal of room toturn himself in. But, in trading on his stock of wisdom, he invariablyproceeded on the principle of putting all the goods he had (and more)into his window; and that went a great way with his constituency ofadmirers. It went a great way, perhaps, with Mr Jefferson Brick, whotook 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 themarket-place of all his stock-in-trade for sale or hire, was the major'ssole claim to a very large share of sympathy and support. He was a greatpolitician; and the one article of his creed, in reference to all publicobligations involving the good faith and integrity of his country, was,'run a moist pen slick through everything, and start fresh.' Thismade him a patriot. In commercial affairs he was a bold speculator.In plainer words he had a most distinguished genius for swindling, andcould start a bank, or negotiate a loan, or form a land-jobbing company(entailing ruin, pestilence, and death, on hundreds of families), withany gifted creature in the Union. This made him an admirable man ofbusiness. He could hang about a bar-room, discussing the affairs of thenation, for twelve hours together; and in that time could hold forthwith more intolerable dulness, chew more tobacco, smoke more tobacco,drink more rum-toddy, mint-julep, gin-sling, and cocktail, than anyprivate gentleman of his acquaintance. This made him an orator and aman of the people. In a word, the major was a rising character, and apopular character, and was in a fair way to be sent by the popular partyto 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 hispatriotic devotion to public affairs; and as fraudulent transactionshave their downs as well as ups, the major was occasionally under acloud. Hence, just now Mrs Pawkins kept a boarding-house, and MajorPawkins rather 'loafed' his time away than otherwise.
'You have come to visit our country, sir, at a season of greatcommercial 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, Ihope?'
Martin knew nothing about America, or he would have known perfectly wellthat if its individual citizens, to a man, are to be believed, it alwaysIS depressed, and always IS stagnated, and always IS at an alarmingcrisis, and never was otherwise; though as a body they are ready to makeoath upon the Evangelists at any hour of the day or night, that itis the most thriving and prosperous of all countries on the habitableglobe.
'It's not likely to last, I hope?' said Martin.
'Well!' returned the major, 'I expect we shall get along somehow, andcome 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,' observedthe major. 'Shall we drink a bitter afore dinner, colonel?'
The colonel assenting to this proposal with great alacrity, MajorPawkins proposed an adjournment to a neighbouring bar-room, which, as heobserved, was 'only in the next block.' He then referred Martin toMrs Pawkins for all particulars connected with the rate of board andlodging, and informed him that he would have the pleasure of seeing thatlady at dinner, which would soon be ready, as the dinner hour was twoo'clock, and it only wanted a quarter now. This reminded him that if thebitter were to be taken at all, there was no time to lose; so he walkedoff without more ado, and left them to follow if they thought proper.
When the major rose from his rocking-chair before the stove, and sodisturbed the hot air and balmy whiff of soup which fanned their brows,the odour of stale tobacco became so decidedly prevalent as to leave nodoubt of its proceeding mainly from that gentleman's attire. Indeed,as Martin walked behind him to the bar-room, he could not help thinkingthat the great square major, in his listlessness and langour, lookedvery much like a stale weed himself; such as might be hoed out ofthe public garden, with great advantage to the decent growth of thatpreserve, and tossed on some congenial dunghill.
They encountered more weeds in the bar-room, some of whom (being thirstysouls as well as dirty) were pretty stale in one sense, and pretty freshin another. Among them was a gentleman who, as Martin gathered from theconversation that took place over the bitter, started that afternoon forthe Far West on a six months' business tour, and who, as his outfit andequipment for this journey, had just such another shiny hat and justsuch another little pale valise as had composed the luggage of thegentleman who came from England in the Screw.
They were walking back very leisurely; Martin arm-in-arm with MrJefferson 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, theyheard a bell ringing violently. The instant this sound struck upon theirears, the colonel and the major darted off, dashed up the steps and inat the street-door (which stood ajar) like lunatics; while Mr JeffersonBrick, detaching his arm from Martin's, made a precipitate dive in thesame direction, and vanished also.<
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'Good Heaven!' thought Martin. 'The premises are on fire! It was analarm bell!'
But there was no smoke to be seen, nor any flame, nor was there anysmell of fire. As Martin faltered on the pavement, three more gentlemen,with horror and agitation depicted in their faces, came plunging wildlyround the street corner; jostled each other on the steps; struggled foran instant; and rushed into the house, a confused heap of arms andlegs. Unable to bear it any longer, Martin followed. Even in hisrapid progress he was run down, thrust aside, and passed, by two moregentlemen, stark mad, as it appeared, with fierce excitement.
'Where is it?' cried Martin, breathlessly, to a negro whom heencountered in the passage.
'In a eatin room, sa. Kernell, sa, him kep a seat 'side himself, sa.'
'A seat!' cried Martin.
'For a dinnar, sa.'
Martin started at him for a moment, and burst into a hearty laugh; towhich the negro, out of his natural good humour and desire to please, soheartily responded, that his teeth shone like a gleam of light. 'You'rethe pleasantest fellow I have seen yet,' said Martin clapping him on theback, 'and give me a better appetite than bitters.'
With this sentiment he walked into the dining-room and slipped intoa chair next the colonel, which that gentleman (by this time nearlythrough his dinner) had turned down in reserve for him, with its backagainst the table.
It was a numerous company--eighteen or twenty perhaps. Of these somefive or six were ladies, who sat wedged together in a little phalanx bythemselves. All the knives and forks were working away at a rate thatwas quite alarming; very few words were spoken; and everybody seemed toeat his utmost in self-defence, as if a famine were expected to set inbefore breakfast time to-morrow morning, and it had become high timeto assert the first law of nature. The poultry, which may perhaps beconsidered to have formed the staple of the entertainment--for there wasa turkey at the top, a pair of ducks at the bottom, and two fowls in themiddle--disappeared as rapidly as if every bird had had the use of itswings, and had flown in desperation down a human throat. The oysters,stewed and pickled, leaped from their capacious reservoirs, and slid byscores 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. Dyspeptic individuals boltedtheir food in wedges; feeding, not themselves, but broods of nightmares,who were continually standing at livery within them. Spare men, withlank and rigid cheeks, came out unsatisfied from the destruction ofheavy dishes, and glared with watchful eyes upon the pastry. What MrsPawkins 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 whileMartin, who had sent his plate for some turkey, was waiting to begin,he asked him what he thought of the boarders, who were from all parts ofthe Union, and whether he would like to know any particulars concerningthem.
'Pray,' said Martin, 'who is that sickly little girl opposite, with thetight 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; directlyopposite.'
'Well, sir!' cried the colonel. 'THAT is Mrs Jefferson Brick.'
Martin 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 thesedays?' said Martin.
'There are two young Bricks already, sir,' returned the colonel.
The matron looked so uncommonly like a child herself, that Martin couldnot help saying as much. 'Yes, sir,' returned the colonel, 'but someinstitutions develop human natur; others re--tard it.'
'Jefferson Brick,' he observed after a short silence, in commendationof his correspondent, 'is one of the most remarkable men in our country,sir!'
This had passed almost in a whisper, for the distinguished gentlemanalluded to sat on Martin's other hand.
'Pray, Mr Brick,' said Martin, turning to him, and asking a questionmore for conversation's sake than from any feeling of interest in itssubject, 'who is that;' he was going to say 'young' but thought itprudent to eschew the word--'that very short gentleman yonder, with thered nose?'
'That is Pro--fessor Mullit, sir,' replied Jefferson.
'May I ask what he is professor of?' asked Martin.
'Of education, sir,' said Jefferson Brick.
'A sort of schoolmaster, 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 electionfor President, to repudiate and denounce his father, who voted on thewrong interest. He has since written some powerful pamphlets, underthe signature of "Suturb," or Brutus reversed. He is one of the mostremarkable men in our country, sir.'
'There seem to be plenty of 'em,' thought Martin, 'at any rate.'
Pursuing his inquiries Martin found that there were no fewer than fourmajors present, two colonels, one general, and a captain, so that hecould not help thinking how strongly officered the American militia mustbe; and wondering very much whether the officers commanded each other;or if they did not, where on earth the privates came from. There seemedto be no man there without a title; for those who had not attained tomilitary honours were either doctors, professors, or reverends. Threevery hard and disagreeable gentlemen were on missions from neighbouringStates; one on monetary affairs, one on political, one on sectarian.Among the ladies, there were Mrs Pawkins, who was very straight, bony,and silent; and a wiry-faced old damsel, who held strong sentimentstouching the rights of women, and had diffused the same in lectures;but the rest were strangely devoid of individual traits of character,insomuch 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 onlymembers of the party who did not appear to be among the most remarkablepeople in the country.
Several of the gentlemen got up, one by one, and walked off as theyswallowed their last morsel; pausing generally by the stove for a minuteor so to refresh themselves at the brass spittoons. A few sedentarycharacters, however, remained at table full a quarter of an hour, anddid 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 thereply.
So the ladies passed out in single file; Mr Jefferson Brick and suchother married gentlemen as were left, acknowledging the departureof their other halves by a nod; and there was an end of THEM. Martinthought this an uncomfortable custom, but he kept his opinion to himselffor the present, being anxious to hear, and inform himself by, theconversation of the busy gentlemen, who now lounged about the stove asif a great weight had been taken off their minds by the withdrawal ofthe other sex; and who made a plentiful use of the spittoons and theirtoothpicks.
It was rather barren of interest, to say the truth; and the greater partof it may be summed up in one word. Dollars. All their cares, hopes,joys, affections, virtues, and associations, seemed to be melted downinto dollars. Whatever the chance contributions that fell into the slowcauldron 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 itsdollars. The next respectable thing to dollars was any venture havingtheir attainment for its end. The more of that worthless ballast, honourand fair-dealing, which any man cast overboard from the ship of his GoodName and Good Intent, the more ample stowage-room he had for dollars.Make commerce one
huge lie and mighty theft. Deface the banner of thenation for an idle rag; pollute it star by star; and cut out stripe bystripe as from the arm of a degraded soldier. Do anything for dollars!What is a 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 thesegentlemen. He was the greatest patriot, in their eyes, who brawled theloudest, 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 themfor the hot knavery of theirs. Thus, Martin learned in the five minutes'straggling talk about the stove, that to carry pistols into legislativeassemblies, and swords in sticks, and other such peaceful toys; to seizeopponents by the throat, as dogs or rats might do; to bluster, bully,and overbear by personal assailment; were glowing deeds. Not thrusts andstabs at Freedom, striking far deeper into her House of Life than anysultan's scimitar could reach; but rare incense on her altars, having agrateful scent in patriotic nostrils, and curling upward to the seventhheaven of Fame.
Once or twice, when there was a pause, Martin asked such questions asnaturally occurred to him, being a stranger, about the national poets,the theatre, literature, and the arts. But the information which thesegentlemen were in a condition to give him on such topics, did not extendbeyond the effusions of such master-spirits of the time as ColonelDiver, Mr Jefferson Brick, and others; renowned, as it appeared, forexcellence in the achievement of a peculiar style of broadside essaycalled 'a screamer.'
'We are a busy people, sir,' said one of the captains, who was from theWest, 'and have no time for reading mere notions. We don't mind 'emif they come to us in newspapers along with almighty strong stuff ofanother sort, but darn your books.'
Here the general, who appeared to grow quite faint at the bare thoughtof reading anything which was neither mercantile nor political, and wasnot in a newspaper, inquired 'if any gentleman would drink some?' Mostof the company, considering this a very choice and seasonable idea,lounged out, one by one, to the bar-room in the next block. Thencethey probably went to their stores and counting-houses; thence to thebar-room again, to talk once more of dollars, and enlarge their mindswith the perusal and discussion of screamers; and thence each man tosnore in the bosom of his own family.
'Which would seem,' said Martin, pursuing the current of his ownthoughts, 'to be the principal recreation they enjoy in common.' Withthat, he fell a-musing again on dollars, demagogues, and bar-rooms;debating within himself whether busy people of this class were reallyas busy as they claimed to be, or only had an inaptitude for social anddomestic pleasure.
It was a difficult question to solve; and the mere fact of its beingstrongly presented to his mind by all that he had seen and heard, wasnot encouraging. He sat down at the deserted board, and becomingmore and more despondent, as he thought of all the uncertainties anddifficulties of his precarious situation, sighed heavily.
Now, there had been at the dinner-table a middle-aged man with a darkeye and a sunburnt face, who had attracted Martin's attention by havingsomething very engaging and honest in the expression of his features;but of whom he could learn nothing from either of his neighbours, whoseemed to consider him quite beneath their notice. He had taken no partin the conversation round the stove, nor had he gone forth with therest; and now, when he heard Martin sigh for the third or fourthtime, he interposed with some casual remark, as if he desired, withoutobtruding himself upon a stranger's notice, to engage him in cheerfulconversation if he could. His motive was so obvious, and yet sodelicately expressed, that Martin felt really grateful to him, andshowed him so in the manner of his reply.
'I will not ask you,' said this gentleman with a smile, as he rose andmoved towards him, 'how you like my country, for I can quite anticipateyour feeling on that point. But, as I am an American, and consequentlybound to begin with a question, I'll ask you how you like the colonel?'
'You are so very frank,' returned Martin, 'that I have no hesitation insaying I don't like him at all. Though I must add that I am beholden tohim for his civility in bringing me here--and arranging for my stay,on pretty reasonable terms, by the way,' he added, remembering that thecolonel had whispered him to that effect, before going out.
'Not much beholden,' said the stranger drily. 'The colonel occasionallyboards packet-ships, I have heard, to glean the latest informationfor his journal; and he occasionally brings strangers to board here, Ibelieve, with a view to the little percentage which attaches to thosegood offices; and which the hostess deducts from his weekly bill. Idon't offend you, I hope?' he added, seeing that Martin reddened.
'My dear sir,' returned Martin, as they shook hands, 'how is thatpossible! 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 escapesbeing beaten.'
'Well! He has been beaten once or twice,' remarked the gentlemanquietly. 'He is one of a class of men, in whom our own Franklin, solong ago as ten years before the close of the last century, foresawour danger and disgrace. Perhaps you don't know that Franklin, in verysevere terms, published his opinion that those who were slanderedby such fellows as this colonel, having no sufficient remedy in theadministration of this country's laws or in the decent and right-mindedfeeling of its people, were justified in retorting on such publicnuisances by means of a stout cudgel?'
'I was not aware of that,' said Martin, 'but I am very glad to knowit, and I think it worthy of his memory; especially'--here he hesitatedagain.
'Go on,' said the other, smiling as if he knew what stuck in Martin'sthroat.
'Especially,' pursued Martin, 'as I can already understand that it mayhave required great courage, even in his time, to write freely on anyquestion which was not a party one in this very free country.'
'Some courage, no doubt,' returned his new friend. 'Do you think itwould 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 breathethis air. If another Juvenal or Swift could rise up among us to-morrow,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 hasanatomized our follies as a people, and not as this or that party; andwho has escaped the foulest and most brutal slander, the most inveteratehatred 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 writerhas ventured on the most harmless and good-humoured illustrations ofour vices or defects, it has been found necessary to announce, that ina second edition the passage has been expunged, or altered, or explainedaway, or patched into praise.'
'And how has this been brought about?' asked Martin, in dismay.
'Think of what you have seen and heard to-day, beginning with thecolonel,' said his friend, 'and ask yourself. How THEY came about,is another question. Heaven forbid that they should be samples of theintelligence and virtue of America, but they come uppermost, and ingreat numbers, and too often represent it. Will you walk?'
There was a cordial candour in his manner, and an engaging confidencethat it would not be abused; a manly bearing on his own part, and asimple reliance on the manly faith of a stranger; which Martin hadnever seen before. He linked his arm readily in that of the Americangentleman, and they walked out together.
It was perhaps to men like this, his new companion, that a travellerof honoured name, who trod those shores now nearly forty years ago, andwoke upon that soil, as many have done since, to blots and stains uponits high pretensions, which in the brightness of his distant dreams werelost 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 o'er!'
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