Chapter Thirty-Five

Martin Chuzzlewit

by Charles Dickens

ARRIVING IN ENGLAND, MARTIN WITNESSES A CEREMONY, FROM WHICH HE
DERIVES THE CHEERING INFORMATION THAT HE HAS NOT BEEN FORGOTTEN IN
HIS ABSENCE

It was mid-day, and high water in the English port for which the
Screw was bound, when, borne in gallantly upon the fullness of the
tide, she let go her anchor in the river.

Bright as the scene was; fresh, and full of motion; airy, free,
and sparkling; it was nothing to the life and exultation in the
breasts of the two travellers, at sight of the old churches, roofs,
and darkened chimney stacks of Home. The distant roar that swelled
up hoarsely from the busy streets, was music in their ears; the lines
of people gazing from the wharves, were friends held dear; the canopy
of smoke that overhung the town was brighter and more beautiful to
them than if the richest silks of Persia had been waving in the air.
And though the water going on its glistening track, turned, ever and
again, aside to dance and sparkle round great ships, and heave them
up; and leaped from off the blades of oars, a shower of diving
diamonds; and wantoned with the idle boats, and swiftly passed, in
many a sportive chase, through obdurate old iron rings, set deep into
the stone-work of the quays; not even it was half so buoyant, and so
restless, as their fluttering hearts, when yearning to set foot, once
more, on native ground.

A year had passed since those same spires and roofs had faded
from their eyes. It seemed to them, a dozen years. Some trifling
changes, here and there, they called to mind; and wondered that they
were so few and slight. In health and fortune, prospect and
resource, they came back poorer men than they had gone away. But it
was home. And though home is a name, a word, it is a strong one;
stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit answered to, in
strongest conjuration.

Being set ashore, with very little money in their pockets, and
no definite plan of operation in their heads, they sought out a cheap
tavern, where they regaled upon a smoking steak, and certain flowing
mugs of beer, as only men just landed from the sea can revel in the
generous dainties of the earth. When they had feasted, as two
grateful-tempered giants might have done, they stirred the fire, drew
back the glowing curtain from the window, and making each a sofa for
himself, by union of the great unwieldy chairs, gazed blissfully into
the street.

Even the street was made a fairy street, by being half hidden in
an atmosphere of steak, and strong, stout, stand-up English beer.
For on the window-glass hung such a mist, that Mr Tapley was obliged
to rise and wipe it with his handkerchief, before the passengers
appeared like common mortals. And even then, a spiral little cloud
went curling up from their two glasses of hot grog, which nearly hid
them from each other.

It was one of those unaccountable little rooms which are never
seen anywhere but in a tavern, and are supposed to have got into
taverns by reason of the facilities afforded to the architect for
getting drunk while engaged in their construction. It had more
corners in it than the brain of an obstinate man; was full of mad
closets, into which nothing could be put that was not specially
invented and made for that purpose; had mysterious shelvings and
bulkheads, and indications of staircases in the ceiling; and was
elaborately provided with a bell that rung in the room itself, about
two feet from the handle, and had no connection whatever with any
other part of the establishment. It was a little below the pavement,
and abutted close upon it; so that passengers grated against the
window- panes with their buttons, and scraped it with their baskets;
and fearful boys suddenly coming between a thoughtful guest and the
light, derided him, or put out their tongues as if he were a
physician; or made white knobs on the ends of their noses by
flattening the same against the glass, and vanished awfully, like
spectres.

Martin and Mark sat looking at the people as they passed,
debating every now and then what their first step should be.

'We want to see Miss Mary, of course,' said Mark.

'Of course,' said Martin. 'But I don't know where she is. Not
having had the heart to write in our distress--you yourself thought
silence most advisable--and consequently, never having heard from her
since we left New York the first time, I don't know where she is, my
good fellow.'

'My opinion is, sir,' returned Mark, 'that what we've got to do
is to travel straight to the Dragon. There's no need for you to go
there, where you're known, unless you like. You may stop ten mile
short of it. I'll go on. Mrs Lupin will tell me all the news. Mr
Pinch will give me every information that we want; and right glad Mr
Pinch will be to do it. My proposal is: To set off walking this
afternoon. To stop when we are tired. To get a lift when we can. To
walk when we can't. To do it at once, and do it cheap.'

'Unless we do it cheap, we shall have some difficulty in doing
it at all,' said Martin, pulling out the bank, and telling it over in
his hand.

'The greater reason for losing no time, sir,' replied Mark.
'Whereas, when you've seen the young lady; and know what state of
mind the old gentleman's in, and all about it; then you'll know what
to do next.'

'No doubt,' said Martin. 'You are quite right.'

They were raising their glasses to their lips, when their hands
stopped midway, and their gaze was arrested by a figure which slowly,
very slowly, and reflectively, passed the window at that moment.

Mr Pecksniff. Placid, calm, but proud. Honestly proud.
Dressed with peculiar care, smiling with even more than usual
blandness, pondering on the beauties of his art with a mild
abstraction from all sordid thoughts, and gently travelling across
the disc, as if he were a figure in a magic lantern.

As Mr Pecksniff passed, a person coming in the opposite
direction stopped to look after him with great interest and respect,
almost with veneration; and the landlord bouncing out of the house,
as if he had seen him too, joined this person, and spoke to him, and
shook his head gravely, and looked after Mr Pecksniff likewise.

Martin and Mark sat staring at each other, as if they could not
believe it; but there stood the landlord, and the other man still. In
spite of the indignation with which this glimpse of Mr Pecksniff had
inspired him, Martin could not help laughing heartily. Neither could
Mark.

'We must inquire into this!' said Martin. 'Ask the landlord in,
Mark.'

Mr Tapley retired for that purpose, and immediately returned
with their large-headed host in safe convoy.

'Pray, landlord!' said Martin, 'who is that gentleman who passed
just now, and whom you were looking after?'

The landlord poked the fire as if, in his desire to make the
most of his answer, he had become indifferent even to the price of
coals; and putting his hands in his pockets, said, after inflating
himself to give still further effect to his reply:

'That, gentlemen, is the great Mr Pecksniff! The celebrated
architect, gentlemen!'

He looked from one to the other while he said it, as if he were
ready to assist the first man who might be overcome by the
intelligence.

'The great Mr Pecksniff, the celebrated architect, gentlemen.'
said the landlord, 'has come down here, to help to lay the first
stone of a new and splendid public building.'

'Is it to be built from his designs?' asked Martin.

'The great Mr Pecksniff, the celebrated architect, gentlemen,'
returned the landlord, who seemed to have an unspeakable delight in
the repetition of these words, 'carried off the First Premium, and
will erect the building.'

'Who lays the stone?' asked Martin.

'Our member has come down express,' returned the landlord. 'No
scrubs would do for no such a purpose. Nothing less would satisfy
our Directors than our member in the House of Commons, who is
returned upon the Gentlemanly Interest.'

'Which interest is that?' asked Martin.

'What, don't you know!' returned the landlord.

It was quite clear the landlord didn't. They always told him at
election time, that it was the Gentlemanly side, and he immediately
put on his top-boots, and voted for it.

'When does the ceremony take place?' asked Martin.

'This day,' replied the landlord. Then pulling out his watch,
he added, impressively, 'almost this minute.'

Martin hastily inquired whether there was any possibility of
getting in to witness it; and finding that there would be no
objection to the admittance of any decent person, unless indeed the
ground were full, hurried off with Mark, as hard as they could go.

They were fortunate enough to squeeze themselves into a famous
corner on the ground, where they could see all that passed, without
much dread of being beheld by Mr Pecksniff in return. They were not
a minute too soon, for as they were in the act of congratulating each
other, a great noise was heard at some distance, and everybody looked
towards the gate. Several ladies prepared their pocket handkerchiefs
for waving; and a stray teacher belonging to the charity school being
much cheered by mistake, was immensely groaned at when detected.

'Perhaps he has Tom Pinch with him,' Martin whispered Mr
Tapley.

'It would be rather too much of a treat for him, wouldn't it,
sir?' whispered Mr Tapley in return.

There was no time to discuss the probabilities either way, for
the charity school, in clean linen, came filing in two and two, so
much to the self-approval of all the people present who didn't
subscribe to it, that many of them shed tears. A band of music
followed, led by a conscientious drummer who never left off. Then
came a great many gentlemen with wands in their hands, and bows on
their breasts, whose share in the proceedings did not appear to be
distinctly laid down, and who trod upon each other, and blocked up
the entry for a considerable period. These were followed by the
Mayor and Corporation, all clustering round the member for the
Gentlemanly Interest; who had the great Mr Pecksniff, the celebrated
architect on his right hand, and conversed with him familiarly as
they came along. Then the ladies waved their handkerchiefs, and the
gentlemen their hats, and the charity children shrieked, and the
member for the Gentlemanly Interest bowed.

Silence being restored, the member for the Gentlemanly Interest
rubbed his hands, and wagged his head, and looked about him
pleasantly; and there was nothing this member did, at which some lady
or other did not burst into an ecstatic waving of her pocket
handkerchief. When he looked up at the stone, they said how
graceful! when he peeped into the hole, they said how condescending!
when he chatted with the Mayor, they said how easy! when he folded
his arms they cried with one accord, how statesman-like!

Mr Pecksniff was observed too, closely. When he talked to the
Mayor, they said, Oh, really, what a courtly man he was! When he
laid his hand upon the mason's shoulder, giving him directions, how
pleasant his demeanour to the working classes; just the sort of man
who made their toil a pleasure to them, poor dear souls!

But now a silver trowel was brought; and when the member for the
Gentlemanly Interest, tucking up his coat-sleeve, did a little
sleight of hand with the mortar, the air was rent, so loud was the
applause. The workman-like manner in which he did it was amazing. No
one could conceive where such a gentlemanly creature could have
picked the knowledge up.

When he had made a kind of dirt-pie under the direction of the
mason, they brought a little vase containing coins, the which the
member for the Gentlemanly Interest jingled, as if he were going to
conjure. Whereat they said how droll, how cheerful, what a flow of
spirits! This put into its place, an ancient scholar read the
inscription, which was in Latin; not in English; that would never do.
It gave great satisfaction; especially every time there was a good
long substantive in the third declension, ablative case, with an
adjective to match; at which periods the assembly became very tender,
and were much affected.

And now the stone was lowered down into its place, amidst the
shouting of the concourse. When it was firmly fixed, the member for
the Gentlemanly Interest struck upon it thrice with the handle of the
trowel, as if inquiring, with a touch of humour, whether anybody was
at home. Mr Pecksniff then unrolled his Plans (prodigious plans they
were), and people gathered round to look at and admire them.

Martin, who had been fretting himself--quite unnecessarily, as
Mark thought--during the whole of these proceedings, could no longer
restrain his impatience; but stepping forward among several others,
looked straight over the shoulder of the unconscious Mr Pecksniff, at
the designs and plans he had unrolled. He returned to Mark, boiling
with rage.

'Why, what's the matter, sir?' cried Mark.

'Matter! This is my building.'

'Your building, sir!' said Mark.

'My grammar-school. I invented it. I did it all. He has only
put four windows in, the villain, and spoilt it!'

Mark could hardly believe it at first, but being assured that it
was really so, actually held him to prevent his interference
foolishly, until his temporary heat was past. In the meantime, the
member addressed the company on the gratifying deed which he had just
performed.

He said that since he had sat in Parliament to represent the
Gentlemanly Interest of that town; and he might add, the Lady
Interest, he hoped, besides (pocket handkerchiefs); it had been his
pleasant duty to come among them, and to raise his voice on their
behalf in Another Place (pocket handkerchiefs and laughter), often.
But he had never come among them, and had never raised his voice,
with half such pure, such deep, such unalloyed delight, as now. 'The
present occasion,' he said, 'will ever be memorable to me; not only
for the reasons I have assigned, but because it has afforded me an
opportunity of becoming personally known to a gentleman--'

Here he pointed the trowel at Mr Pecksniff, who was greeted with
vociferous cheering, and laid his hand upon his heart.

'To a gentleman who, I am happy to believe, will reap both
distinction and profit from this field; whose fame had previously
penetrated to me--as to whose ears has it not!--but whose
intellectual countenance I never had the distinguished honour to
behold until this day, and whose intellectual conversation I had
never before the improving pleasure to enjoy.'

Everybody seemed very glad of this, and applauded more than
ever.

'But I hope my Honourable Friend,' said the Gentlemanly
member--of course he added "if he will allow me to call him so," and
of course Mr Pecksniff bowed--'will give me many opportunities of
cultivating the knowledge of him; and that I may have the
extraordinary gratification of reflecting in after-time that I laid
on this day two first stones, both belonging to structures which
shall last my life!'

Great cheering again. All this time, Martin was cursing Mr
Pecksniff up hill and down dale.

'My friends!' said Mr Pecksniff, in reply. 'My duty is to
build, not speak; to act, not talk; to deal with marble, stone, and
brick; not language. I am very much affected. God bless you!'

This address, pumped out apparently from Mr Pecksniff's very
heart, brought the enthusiasm to its highest pitch. The pocket
handkerchiefs were waved again; the charity children were admonished
to grow up Pecksniffs, every boy among them; the Corporation,
gentlemen with wands, member for the Gentlemanly Interest, all
cheered for Mr Pecksniff. Three cheers for Mr Pecksniff! Three more
for Mr Pecksniff! Three more for Mr Pecksniff, gentlemen, if you
please! One more, gentlemen, for Mr Pecksniff, and let it be a good
one to finish with!

In short, Mr Pecksniff was supposed to have done a great work
and was very kindly, courteously, and generously rewarded. When the
procession moved away, and Martin and Mark were left almost alone
upon the ground, his merits and a desire to acknowledge them formed
the common topic. He was only second to the Gentlemanly member.

'Compare the fellow's situation to-day with ours!' said Martin
bitterly.

'Lord bless you, sir!' cried Mark, 'what's the use? Some
architects are clever at making foundations, and some architects are
clever at building on 'em when they're made. But it'll all come
right in the end, sir; it'll all come right!'

'And in the meantime--' began Martin.

'In the meantime, as you say, sir, we have a deal to do, and far
to go. So sharp's the word, and Jolly!'

'You are the best master in the world, Mark,' said Martin, 'and
I will not be a bad scholar if I can help it, I am resolved! So
come! Best foot foremost, old fellow!'