Chuzzlewit, Chapters 21 - 23

[Tristram]

Dear Pickwickians,

Chapters 21 to 23 take us further into the American adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit jr. and the indefatigable Mark Tapley. We meet some more two-dimensional and extremely flat characters and see some major change in Martin.

One of the tiny details I found quite amusing - probably in the light of our recent off-topic exploits in bird walking - was the engine-driver of the train mentioned in Chapter 21, who was smoking and sometimes gave "a grunt as short as his pipe". ;-)

What about your observations?

[Kim]

The Thriving City of Eden as it Appeared on Paper
Chapter 21

[Kim]

The Thriving City of Eden as it Appeared in Fact
Chapter 23

[Peter]

I remember as a much younger person when one wanted to prove that they were not gullible or naïve you would say something to the effect "sure, and I bet you have some swampland in Florida you want to sell me cheaply." At that time, Florida was swampy. Oh, what a difference a hundred or so years makes. Maybe Martin would have been on to something grand in their own western adventures. Then again, probably not. ;>}

"Poor Martin! forever building castles in the air. Forever in his own selfishness, forgetful of all but his own teeming hopes and sanguine plans."

What a difference a century makes! The irony and perfect choice of the place name shows Dickens at his best. Martin and Mark want to buy a piece of Eden. Ah, the snakes in the bush. When Dickens wrote how Mr. Scudder "blew the dust off the roof of the Theatre" when he showed M&M the plans it sums up their innocence perfectly.

The National Hotel is certainly not The Dragon back in England. The lads should pack up and head on home asap.

[Tristram]

Peter,

I do like your sentence "Martin and Mark want to buy a piece of Eden" ;-) In fact they should have taken a look at Eden first, and one can only wonder at the degree of naivety that induces Martin to acquire land he has never seen.

It is so clear that Mr. Scadder is a crook if ever crook there was. Just remember this brilliant description of the respectable Scadder:

"He was a gaunt man in a huge straw hat, and a coat of green stuff. The weather being hot, he had no cravat, and wore his shirt collar wide open; so that every time he spoke something was seen to twitch and jerk up in his throat, like the little hammers in a harpsichord when the notes are struck. Perhaps it was the Truth feebly endeavouring to leap to his lips. If so, it never reached them.

Two grey eyes lurked deep within this agent's head, but one of them had no sight in it, and stood stock still. With that side of his face he seemed to listen to what the other side was doing. Thus each profile had a distinct expression; and when the movable side was most in action, the rigid one was in its coldest state of watchfulness. It was like turning the man inside out, to pass to that view of his features in his liveliest mood, and see how calculating and intent they were."

Not only has he swallowed Truth and would not let her pass his lips again, but he is literally described as a two-faced man. ;-)

[Kate]

What a depressing image. Poor Mark, he doesn't deserve this. I'm hoping it will teach Martin Jr a major lesson, if he is to escape, so he can alter his path and avoid following in his grandfather's footsteps. If this doesn't, I fear nothing will.

I'm sorry, but America isn't sound very hospitable at the moment. It reminds me of the readings about the early days of colonised Australia, particularly the 'bush'. Urgh. I am glad I live in this day and age.

I wonder how this description of America lived up to what the broadsheets (newspapers) said life was like there. I know it was quite different in Australia in comparison to what they were trying to sell it as to the British public.

[Peter]

Once again my brain is spinning into structure mode, but I can't help it. To me, the wanderings of MC jr and Mark are forming neatly in Joseph Campbell's Hero cycle. ... A man, still young, naïve and in need of maturity, who is obliged to leave his home and the love of his life takes with him his trusty sidekick. They undergo harrowing perils and near death experiences as they cross an ocean to find a new land and a new place to call home. The new land does not open and offer itself graciously, but rather the hero and sidekick encounter more challenges. Once again they set out to find their paradise, their Eden, their new world, only to further descend into greater challenges where "fatal maladies ... hunted them like spectres ... where even the blessed sun, shining down on festering elements of corruption and disease, became a horror; thus was the realm of Hope through which they moved." Notable is the fact that the ship they are on Dickens says ...might have been old Charon's boat."

Now, firmly planted in a fetid Eden, it appears that MC jr is about to become ill like so many have before him in this place. Many of those never were cured, but rather died. With Mark by his side, what will happen to our hero ...

Well, sorry about the above ramble, but when Joseph Campbell's Monomyth theory or Jung drift across my brain, I'm still responding to their siren's call.

[Kate]

Peter wrote: "Once again my brain is spinning into structure mode, but I can't help it. To me, the wanderings of MC jr and Mark are forming neatly in Joseph Campbell's Hero cycle. ... A man, still young, naïve..."

We're thinking on the same lines Peter. The harsh barrenness leaves me contemplating a rebirth of some kind. I'm interested to see how Dickens writes it even though I'm finding it increasingly depressing.

[Peter]

Kate wrote: "Peter wrote: "Once again my brain is spinning into structure mode, but I can't help it. To me, the wanderings of MC jr and Mark are forming neatly in Joseph Campbell's Hero cycle. ... A man, stil..."

Kate

I sometimes wonder if I'm just imagining connections to Jung, Campbell, Frye, Levi-Strauss and the lot. While not all styles of interpretation work well, or even at all, in all circumstances, they do all help and inform my reading and understanding along the way.

Let's track young Mr. MC and see what's up in the rest of the novel.

[Kim]

This is from a letter Dickens wrote to John Forster when he was traveling by train through the mountains near Pittsburg, Forster called it the "Original Of Eden":



"The scenery, before you reach the mountains, and when you are on them, and after you have left them, is very grand and fine; and the canal winds its way through some deep, sullen gorges, which, seen by moonlight, are very impressive: though immeasurably inferior to Glencoe, to whose terrors I have not seen the smallest approach. We have passed, both in the mountains and elsewhere, a great number of new settlements and detached log houses. Their utterly forlorn and miserable appearance baffles all description. I have not seen six cabins out of six hundred, where the windows have been whole. Old hats, old clothes, old boards, old fragments of blanket and paper, are stuffed into the broken glass; and their air is misery and desolation. It pains the eye to see the stumps of great trees thickly strewn in every field of wheat; and never to lose the eternal swamp and dull morass, with hundreds of rotten trunks, of elm and pine and sycamore and logwood, steeped in its unwholesome water; where the frogs so croak at night that after dark there is an incessant sound as if millions of phantom teams, with bells, were traveling through the upper air, at an enormous distance off. It is quite an oppressive circumstance, too, to come upon great tracks, where settlers have been burning down the trees; and where their wounded bodies lie about, like those of murdered creatures; while here and there some charred and blackened giant rears two bare arms aloft, and seems to curse his enemies. The prettiest sight I have seen was yesterday, when we—on the heights of the mountain, and in a keen wind—looked down into a valley full of light and softness; catching glimpses of scattered cabins; children running to the doors; dogs bursting out to bark; pigs scampering home, like so many prodigal sons; families sitting out in their gardens; cows gazing upward, with a stupid indifference; men in their shirt-sleeves, looking on at their unfinished houses, and planning work for to-morrow;—and the train riding on, high above them, like a storm. But I know this is beautiful—very—very beautiful!

[Everyman]

Kate wrote: "What a depressing image. Poor Mark, he doesn't deserve this. "

But in another way, it's just what he needs to test the limits, of any, of his cheerfulness.

[Hilary]

Eden aka Hell. Mark is boisterous in his attempt at positivity. I so hope that he, at least, won't be broken. Such a challenge seems, at the moment, insurmountable; not only having to hone his own optimism, but to shoulder the added responsibility of Martin's peace of mind.