The Pickwick Papers
‘Any more?’ said the whistling gentleman.
‘No more,’ replied Job Trotter.
Mr. Pickwick paid, the door was unbolted, and out they came; the
uncombed gentleman bestowing a friendly nod upon Mr. Roker, who happened
to be passing at the moment.
From this spot, Mr. Pickwick wandered along all the galleries, up and
down all the staircases, and once again round the whole area of the
yard. The great body of the prison population appeared to be Mivins, and
Smangle, and the parson, and the butcher, and the leg, over and over,
and over again. There were the same squalor, the same turmoil and noise,
the same general characteristics, in every corner; in the best and the
worst alike. The whole place seemed restless and troubled; and the
people were crowding and flitting to and fro, like the shadows in an
uneasy dream.
‘I have seen enough,’ said Mr. Pickwick, as he threw himself into a
chair in his little apartment. ‘My head aches with these scenes, and my
heart too. Henceforth I will be a prisoner in my own room.’
And Mr. Pickwick steadfastly adhered to this determination. For three
long months he remained shut up, all day; only stealing out at night to
breathe the air, when the greater part of his fellow-prisoners were in
bed or carousing in their rooms. His health was beginning to suffer from
the closeness of the confinement, but neither the often-repeated
entreaties of Perker and his friends, nor the still more frequently-
repeated warnings and admonitions of Mr. Samuel Weller, could induce him
to alter one jot of his inflexible resolution.
CHAPTER XLVI. RECORDS A TOUCHING ACT OF DELICATE FEELING, NOT UNMIXED
WITH PLEASANTRY, ACHIEVED AND PERFORMED BY Messrs. DODSON AND FOGG
It was within a week of the close of the month of July, that a hackney
cabriolet, number unrecorded, was seen to proceed at a rapid pace up
Goswell Street; three people were squeezed into it besides the driver,
who sat in his own particular little dickey at the side; over the apron
were hung two shawls, belonging to two small vixenish-looking ladies
under the apron; between whom, compressed into a very small compass, was
stowed away, a gentleman of heavy and subdued demeanour, who, whenever
he ventured to make an observation, was snapped up short by one of the
vixenish ladies before-mentioned. Lastly, the two vixenish ladies and
the heavy gentleman were giving the driver contradictory directions, all
tending to the one point, that he should stop at Mrs. Bardell’s door;
which the heavy gentleman, in direct opposition to, and defiance of, the
vixenish ladies, contended was a green door and not a yellow one.
‘Stop at the house with a green door, driver,’ said the heavy gentleman.
‘Oh! You perwerse creetur!’ exclaimed one of the vixenish ladies. ‘Drive
to the ‘ouse with the yellow door, cabmin.’
Upon this the cabman, who in a sudden effort to pull up at the house
with the green door, had pulled the horse up so high that he nearly
pulled him backward into the cabriolet, let the animal’s fore-legs down
to the ground again, and paused.
‘Now vere am I to pull up?’ inquired the driver. ‘Settle it among
yourselves. All I ask is, vere?’
Here the contest was renewed with increased violence; and the horse
being troubled with a fly on his nose, the cabman humanely employed his
leisure in lashing him about on the head, on the counter-irritation
principle.
‘Most wotes carries the day!’ said one of the vixenish ladies at length.
‘The ‘ouse with the yellow door, cabman.’
But after the cabriolet had dashed up, in splendid style, to the house
with the yellow door, ‘making,’ as one of the vixenish ladies
triumphantly said, ‘acterrally more noise than if one had come in one’s
own carriage,’ and after the driver had dismounted to assist the ladies
in getting out, the small round head of Master Thomas Bardell was thrust
out of the one-pair window of a house with a red door, a few numbers
off.
‘Aggrawatin’ thing!’ said the vixenish lady last-mentioned, darting a
withering glance at the heavy gentleman.
‘My dear, it’s not my fault,’ said the gentleman.
‘Don’t talk to me, you creetur, don’t,’ retorted the lady. ‘The house
with the red door, cabmin. Oh! If ever a woman was troubled with a
ruffinly creetur, that takes a pride and a pleasure in disgracing his
wife on every possible occasion afore strangers, I am that woman!’
‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Raddle,’ said the other little
woman, who was no other than Mrs. Cluppins.
‘What have I been a-doing of?’ asked Mr. Raddle.
‘Don’t talk to me, don’t, you brute, for fear I should be perwoked to
forgit my sect and strike you!’ said Mrs. Raddle.
While this dialogue was going on, the driver was most ignominiously
leading the horse, by the bridle, up to the house with the red door,
which Master Bardell had already opened. Here was a mean and low way of
arriving at a friend’s house! No dashing up, with all the fire and fury
of the animal; no jumping down of the driver; no loud knocking at the
door; no opening of the apron with a crash at the very last moment, for
fear of the ladies sitting in a draught; and then the man handing the
shawls out, afterwards, as if he were a private coachman! The whole edge
of the thing had been taken off--it was flatter than walking.
‘Well, Tommy,’ said Mrs. Cluppins, ‘how’s your poor dear mother?’
‘Oh, she’s very well,’ replied Master Bardell. ‘She’s in the front
parlour, all ready. I’m ready too, I am.’ Here Master Bardell put his
hands in his pockets, and jumped off and on the bottom step of the door.
‘Is anybody else a-goin’, Tommy?’ said Mrs. Cluppins, arranging her
pelerine.
‘Mrs. Sanders is going, she is,’ replied Tommy; ‘I’m going too, I am.’
‘Drat the boy,’ said little Mrs. Cluppins. ‘He thinks of nobody but
himself. Here, Tommy, dear.’
‘Well,’ said Master Bardell.
‘Who else is a-goin’, lovey?’ said Mrs. Cluppins, in an insinuating
manner.
‘Oh! Mrs. Rogers is a-goin’,’ replied Master Bardell, opening his eyes
very wide as he delivered the intelligence.
‘What? The lady as has taken the lodgings!’ ejaculated Mrs. Cluppins.
Master Bardell put his hands deeper down into his pockets, and nodded
exactly thirty-five times, to imply that it was the lady-lodger, and no
other.
‘Bless us!’ said Mrs. Cluppins. ‘It’s quite a party!’
‘Ah, if you knew what was in the cupboard, you’d say so,’ replied Master
Bardell.
‘What is there, Tommy?’ said Mrs. Cluppins coaxingly. ‘You’ll tell _me_,
Tommy, I know.’
No, I won’t,’ replied Master Bardell, shaking his head, and applying
himself to the bottom step again.
‘Drat the child!’ muttered Mrs. Cluppins. ‘What a prowokin’ little
wretch it is! Come, Tommy, tell your dear Cluppy.’
‘Mother said I wasn’t to,’ rejoined Master Bardell, ‘I’m a-goin’ to have
some, I am.’ Cheered by this prospect, the precocious boy applied
himself to his infantile treadmill, with increased vigour.
The above examination of a child of tender years took place while Mr.
and Mrs. Raddle and the cab-driver were having an altercation concerning
the fare, which, terminating at this point in favour of the cabman, Mrs.
Raddle came up tottering.
‘Lauk, Mary Ann! what’s the matter?’ said Mrs. Cluppins.
‘It’s put me all over in such a tremble, Betsy,’ replied Mrs. Raddle.
‘Raddle ain’t like a man; he leaves everythink to me.’
This was scarcely fair upon the unfortunate Mr. Raddle, who had been
thrust aside by his good lady in the commencement of the dispute, and
peremptorily commanded to hold his tongue. He had no opportunity of
defending himself, however, for Mrs. Raddle gave unequivocal signs of
fainting; which, being perceived from the parlour window, Mrs. Bardell,
Mrs. Sanders, the lodger, and the lodger’s servant, darted precipitately
out, and conveyed her into the house, all talking at the same time, and
giving utterance to various expressions of pity and condolence, as if
she were one of the most suffering mortals on earth. Being conveyed into
the front parlour, she was there deposited on a sofa; and the lady from
the first floor running up to the first floor, returned with a bottle of
sal-volatile, which, holding Mrs. Raddle tight round the neck, she
applied in all womanly kindness and pity to her nose, until that lady
with many plunges and struggles was fain to declare herself decidedly
better.
‘Ah, poor thing!’ said Mrs. Rogers, ‘I know what her feelin’s is, too
well.’
Ah, poor thing! so do I,’ said Mrs. Sanders; and then all the ladies
moaned in unison, and said they knew what it was, and they pitied her
from their hearts, they did. Even the lodger’s little servant, who was
thirteen years old and three feet high, murmured her sympathy.
‘But what’s been the matter?’ said Mrs. Bardell.
‘Ah, what has decomposed you, ma’am?’ inquired Mrs. Rogers.
‘I have been a good deal flurried,’ replied Mrs. Raddle, in a
reproachful manner. Thereupon the ladies cast indignant glances at Mr.
Raddle.
‘Why, the fact is,’ said that unhappy gentleman, stepping forward, ‘when
we alighted at this door, a dispute arose with the driver of the
cabrioily--’ A loud scream from his wife, at the mention of this word,
rendered all further explanation inaudible.
‘You’d better leave us to bring her round, Raddle,’ said Mrs. Cluppins.
‘She’ll never get better as long as you’re here.’
All the ladies concurred in this opinion; so Mr. Raddle was pushed out
of the room, and requested to give himself an airing in the back yard.
Which he did for about a quarter of an hour, when Mrs. Bardell announced
to him with a solemn face that he might come in now, but that he must be
very careful how he behaved towards his wife. She knew he didn’t mean to
be unkind; but Mary Ann was very far from strong, and, if he didn’t take
care, he might lose her when he least expected it, which would be a very
dreadful reflection for him afterwards; and so on. All this, Mr. Raddle
heard with great submission, and presently returned to the parlour in a
most lamb-like manner.
‘Why, Mrs. Rogers, ma’am,’ said Mrs. Bardell, ‘you’ve never been
introduced, I declare! Mr. Raddle, ma’am; Mrs. Cluppins, ma’am; Mrs.
Raddle, ma’am.’
‘Which is Mrs. Cluppins’s sister,’ suggested Mrs. Sanders.
‘Oh, indeed!’ said Mrs. Rogers graciously; for she was the lodger, and
her servant was in waiting, so she was more gracious than intimate, in
right of her position. ‘Oh, indeed!’
Mrs. Raddle smiled sweetly, Mr. Raddle bowed, and Mrs. Cluppins said,
‘she was sure she was very happy to have an opportunity of being known
to a lady which she had heerd so much in favour of, as Mrs. Rogers.’ A
compliment which the last-named lady acknowledged with graceful
condescension.
‘Well, Mr. Raddle,’ said Mrs. Bardell; ‘I’m sure you ought to feel very
much honoured at you and Tommy being the only gentlemen to escort so
many ladies all the way to the Spaniards, at Hampstead. Don’t you think
he ought, Mrs. Rogers, ma’am?’
Oh, certainly, ma’am,’ replied Mrs. Rogers; after whom all the other
ladies responded, ‘Oh, certainly.’
‘Of course I feel it, ma’am,’ said Mr. Raddle, rubbing his hands, and
evincing a slight tendency to brighten up a little. ‘Indeed, to tell you
the truth, I said, as we was a-coming along in the cabrioily--’
At the recapitulation of the word which awakened so many painful
recollections, Mrs. Raddle applied her handkerchief to her eyes again,
and uttered a half-suppressed scream; so that Mrs. Bardell frowned upon
Mr. Raddle, to intimate that he had better not say anything more, and
desired Mrs. Rogers’s servant, with an air, to ‘put the wine on.’
This was the signal for displaying the hidden treasures of the closet,
which comprised sundry plates of oranges and biscuits, and a bottle of