The Pickwick Papers
With these words, Mr. Pickwick filled and drained a bumper with a
trembling hand; and his eyes moistened as his friends rose with one
accord, and pledged him from their hearts.
There were few preparatory arrangements to be made for the marriage of
Mr. Snodgrass. As he had neither father nor mother, and had been in his
minority a ward of Mr. Pickwick’s, that gentleman was perfectly well
acquainted with his possessions and prospects. His account of both was
quite satisfactory to Wardle--as almost any other account would have
been, for the good old gentleman was overflowing with hilarity and
kindness--and a handsome portion having been bestowed upon Emily, the
marriage was fixed to take place on the fourth day from that time--the
suddenness of which preparations reduced three dressmakers and a tailor
to the extreme verge of insanity.
Getting post-horses to the carriage, old Wardle started off, next day,
to bring his mother back to town. Communicating his intelligence to the
old lady with characteristic impetuosity, she instantly fainted away;
but being promptly revived, ordered the brocaded silk gown to be packed
up forthwith, and proceeded to relate some circumstances of a similar
nature attending the marriage of the eldest daughter of Lady
Tollimglower, deceased, which occupied three hours in the recital, and
were not half finished at last.
Mrs. Trundle had to be informed of all the mighty preparations that were
making in London; and, being in a delicate state of health, was informed
thereof through Mr. Trundle, lest the news should be too much for her;
but it was not too much for her, inasmuch as she at once wrote off to
Muggleton, to order a new cap and a black satin gown, and moreover
avowed her determination of being present at the ceremony. Hereupon, Mr.
Trundle called in the doctor, and the doctor said Mrs. Trundle ought to
know best how she felt herself, to which Mrs. Trundle replied that she
felt herself quite equal to it, and that she had made up her mind to go;
upon which the doctor, who was a wise and discreet doctor, and knew what
was good for himself, as well as for other people, said that perhaps if
Mrs. Trundle stopped at home, she might hurt herself more by fretting,
than by going, so perhaps she had better go. And she did go; the doctor
with great attention sending in half a dozen of medicine, to be drunk
upon the road.
In addition to these points of distraction, Wardle was intrusted with
two small letters to two small young ladies who were to act as
bridesmaids; upon the receipt of which, the two young ladies were driven
to despair by having no ‘things’ ready for so important an occasion, and
no time to make them in--a circumstance which appeared to afford the two
worthy papas of the two small young ladies rather a feeling of
satisfaction than otherwise. However, old frocks were trimmed, and new
bonnets made, and the young ladies looked as well as could possibly have
been expected of them. And as they cried at the subsequent ceremony in
the proper places, and trembled at the right times, they acquitted
themselves to the admiration of all beholders.
How the two poor relations ever reached London--whether they walked, or
got behind coaches, or procured lifts in wagons, or carried each other
by turns--is uncertain; but there they were, before Wardle; and the very
first people that knocked at the door of Mr. Pickwick’s house, on the
bridal morning, were the two poor relations, all smiles and shirt
collar.
They were welcomed heartily though, for riches or poverty had no
influence on Mr. Pickwick; the new servants were all alacrity and
readiness; Sam was in a most unrivalled state of high spirits and
excitement; Mary was glowing with beauty and smart ribands.
The bridegroom, who had been staying at the house for two or three days
previous, sallied forth gallantly to Dulwich Church to meet the bride,
attended by Mr. Pickwick, Ben Allen, Bob Sawyer, and Mr. Tupman; with
Sam Weller outside, having at his button-hole a white favour, the gift
of his lady-love, and clad in a new and gorgeous suit of livery invented
for the occasion. They were met by the Wardles, and the Winkles, and the
bride and bridesmaids, and the Trundles; and the ceremony having been
performed, the coaches rattled back to Mr. Pickwick’s to breakfast,
where little Mr. Perker already awaited them.
Here, all the light clouds of the more solemn part of the proceedings
passed away; every face shone forth joyously; and nothing was to be
heard but congratulations and commendations. Everything was so
beautiful! The lawn in front, the garden behind, the miniature
conservatory, the dining-room, the drawing-room, the bedrooms, the
smoking-room, and, above all, the study, with its pictures and easy-
chairs, and odd cabinets, and queer tables, and books out of number,
with a large cheerful window opening upon a pleasant lawn and commanding
a pretty landscape, dotted here and there with little houses almost
hidden by the trees; and then the curtains, and the carpets, and the
chairs, and the sofas! Everything was so beautiful, so compact, so neat,
and in such exquisite taste, said everybody, that there really was no
deciding what to admire most.
And in the midst of all this, stood Mr. Pickwick, his countenance
lighted up with smiles, which the heart of no man, woman, or child,
could resist: himself the happiest of the group: shaking hands, over and
over again, with the same people, and when his own hands were not so
employed, rubbing them with pleasure: turning round in a different
direction at every fresh expression of gratification or curiosity, and
inspiring everybody with his looks of gladness and delight.
Breakfast is announced. Mr. Pickwick leads the old lady (who has been
very eloquent on the subject of Lady Tollimglower) to the top of a long
table; Wardle takes the bottom; the friends arrange themselves on either
side; Sam takes his station behind his master’s chair; the laughter and
talking cease; Mr. Pickwick, having said grace, pauses for an instant
and looks round him. As he does so, the tears roll down his cheeks, in
the fullness of his joy.
Let us leave our old friend in one of those moments of unmixed
happiness, of which, if we seek them, there are ever some, to cheer our
transitory existence here. There are dark shadows on the earth, but its
lights are stronger in the contrast. Some men, like bats or owls, have
better eyes for the darkness than for the light. We, who have no such
optical powers, are better pleased to take our last parting look at the
visionary companions of many solitary hours, when the brief sunshine of
the world is blazing full upon them.
It is the fate of most men who mingle with the world, and attain even
the prime of life, to make many real friends, and lose them in the
course of nature. It is the fate of all authors or chroniclers to create
imaginary friends, and lose them in the course of art. Nor is this the
full extent of their misfortunes; for they are required to furnish an
account of them besides.
In compliance with this custom--unquestionably a bad one--we subjoin a
few biographical words, in relation to the party at Mr. Pickwick’s
assembled.
Mr. and Mrs. Winkle, being fully received into favour by the old
gentleman, were shortly afterwards installed in a newly-built house, not
half a mile from Mr. Pickwick’s. Mr. Winkle, being engaged in the city
as agent or town correspondent of his father, exchanged his old costume
for the ordinary dress of Englishmen, and presented all the external
appearance of a civilised Christian ever afterwards.
Mr. and Mrs. Snodgrass settled at Dingley Dell, where they purchased and
cultivated a small farm, more for occupation than profit. Mr. Snodgrass,
being occasionally abstracted and melancholy, is to this day reputed a
great poet among his friends and acquaintance, although we do not find
that he has ever written anything to encourage the belief. There are
many celebrated characters, literary, philosophical, and otherwise, who
hold a high reputation on a similar tenure.
Mr. Tupman, when his friends married, and Mr. Pickwick settled, took
lodgings at Richmond, where he has ever since resided. He walks
constantly on the terrace during the summer months, with a youthful and
jaunty air, which has rendered him the admiration of the numerous
elderly ladies of single condition, who reside in the vicinity. He has
never proposed again.
Mr. Bob Sawyer, having previously passed through the _Gazette_, passed
over to Bengal, accompanied by Mr. Benjamin Allen; both gentlemen having
received surgical appointments from the East India Company. They each
had the yellow fever fourteen times, and then resolved to try a little
abstinence; since which period, they have been doing well. Mrs. Bardell
let lodgings to many conversable single gentlemen, with great profit,
but never brought any more actions for breach of promise of marriage.
Her attorneys, Messrs. Dodson & Fogg, continue in business, from which
they realise a large income, and in which they are universally
considered among the sharpest of the sharp.
Sam Weller kept his word, and remained unmarried, for two years. The old
housekeeper dying at the end of that time, Mr. Pickwick promoted Mary to
the situation, on condition of her marrying Mr. Weller at once, which
she did without a murmur. From the circumstance of two sturdy little
boys having been repeatedly seen at the gate of the back garden, there
is reason to suppose that Sam has some family.
The elder Mr. Weller drove a coach for twelve months, but being
afflicted with the gout, was compelled to retire. The contents of the
pocket-book had been so well invested for him, however, by Mr. Pickwick,
that he had a handsome independence to retire on, upon which he still
lives at an excellent public-house near Shooter’s Hill, where he is
quite reverenced as an oracle, boasting very much of his intimacy with
Mr. Pickwick, and retaining a most unconquerable aversion to widows.
Mr. Pickwick himself continued to reside in his new house, employing his
leisure hours in arranging the memoranda which he afterwards presented
to the secretary of the once famous club, or in hearing Sam Weller read
aloud, with such remarks as suggested themselves to his mind, which
never failed to afford Mr. Pickwick great amusement. He was much
troubled at first, by the numerous applications made to him by Mr.
Snodgrass, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Trundle, to act as godfather to their
offspring; but he has become used to it now, and officiates as a matter
of course. He never had occasion to regret his bounty to Mr. Jingle; for
both that person and Job Trotter became, in time, worthy members of
society, although they have always steadily objected to return to the
scenes of their old haunts and temptations. Mr. Pickwick is somewhat
infirm now; but he retains all his former juvenility of spirit, and may
still be frequently seen, contemplating the pictures in the Dulwich
Gallery, or enjoying a walk about the pleasant neighbourhood on a fine
day. He is known by all the poor people about, who never fail to take
their hats off, as he passes, with great respect. The children idolise
him, and so indeed does the whole neighbourhood. Every year he repairs
to a large family merry-making at Mr. Wardle’s; on this, as on all other
occasions, he is invariably attended by the faithful Sam, between whom
and his master there exists a steady and reciprocal attachment which
nothing but death will terminate.