The Pickwick Papers
‘I saw the sudden change that came upon him beneath my gaze. He was a
bold man, but the colour faded from his face, and he drew back his
chair. I dragged mine nearer to him; and I laughed--I was very merry
then--I saw him shudder. I felt the madness rising within me. He was
afraid of me.
‘“You were very fond of your sister when she was alive,” I said.--
“Very.”
‘He looked uneasily round him, and I saw his hand grasp the back of his
chair; but he said nothing.
‘“You villain,” said I, “I found you out: I discovered your hellish
plots against me; I know her heart was fixed on some one else before you
compelled her to marry me. I know it--I know it.”
‘He jumped suddenly from his chair, brandished it aloft, and bid me
stand back--for I took care to be getting closer to him all the time I
spoke.
‘I screamed rather than talked, for I felt tumultuous passions eddying
through my veins, and the old spirits whispering and taunting me to tear
his heart out.
‘“Damn you,” said I, starting up, and rushing upon him; “I killed her. I
am a madman. Down with you. Blood, blood! I will have it!”
‘I turned aside with one blow the chair he hurled at me in his terror,
and closed with him; and with a heavy crash we rolled upon the floor
together.
‘It was a fine struggle that; for he was a tall, strong man, fighting
for his life; and I, a powerful madman, thirsting to destroy him. I knew
no strength could equal mine, and I was right. Right again, though a
madman! His struggles grew fainter. I knelt upon his chest, and clasped
his brawny throat firmly with both hands. His face grew purple; his eyes
were starting from his head, and with protruded tongue, he seemed to
mock me. I squeezed the tighter.
‘The door was suddenly burst open with a loud noise, and a crowd of
people rushed forward, crying aloud to each other to secure the madman.
‘My secret was out; and my only struggle now was for liberty and
freedom. I gained my feet before a hand was on me, threw myself among my
assailants, and cleared my way with my strong arm, as if I bore a
hatchet in my hand, and hewed them down before me. I gained the door,
dropped over the banisters, and in an instant was in the street.
‘Straight and swift I ran, and no one dared to stop me. I heard the
noise of the feet behind, and redoubled my speed. It grew fainter and
fainter in the distance, and at length died away altogether; but on I
bounded, through marsh and rivulet, over fence and wall, with a wild
shout which was taken up by the strange beings that flocked around me on
every side, and swelled the sound, till it pierced the air. I was borne
upon the arms of demons who swept along upon the wind, and bore down
bank and hedge before them, and spun me round and round with a rustle
and a speed that made my head swim, until at last they threw me from
them with a violent shock, and I fell heavily upon the earth. When I
woke I found myself here--here in this gray cell, where the sunlight
seldom comes, and the moon steals in, in rays which only serve to show
the dark shadows about me, and that silent figure in its old corner.
When I lie awake, I can sometimes hear strange shrieks and cries from
distant parts of this large place. What they are, I know not; but they
neither come from that pale form, nor does it regard them. For from the
first shades of dusk till the earliest light of morning, it still stands
motionless in the same place, listening to the music of my iron chain,
and watching my gambols on my straw bed.’
At the end of the manuscript was written, in another hand, this note:--
[The unhappy man whose ravings are recorded above, was a melancholy
instance of the baneful results of energies misdirected in early life,
and excesses prolonged until their consequences could never be repaired.
The thoughtless riot, dissipation, and debauchery of his younger days
produced fever and delirium. The first effects of the latter was the
strange delusion, founded upon a well-known medical theory, strongly
contended for by some, and as strongly contested by others, that an
hereditary madness existed in his family. This produced a settled gloom,
which in time developed a morbid insanity, and finally terminated in
raving madness. There is every reason to believe that the events he
detailed, though distorted in the description by his diseased
imagination, really happened. It is only matter of wonder to those who
were acquainted with the vices of his early career, that his passions,
when no longer controlled by reason, did not lead him to the commission
of still more frightful deeds.]
Mr. Pickwick’s candle was just expiring in the socket, as he concluded
the perusal of the old clergyman’s manuscript; and when the light went
suddenly out, without any previous flicker by way of warning, it
communicated a very considerable start to his excited frame. Hastily
throwing off such articles of clothing as he had put on when he rose
from his uneasy bed, and casting a fearful glance around, he once more
scrambled hastily between the sheets, and soon fell fast asleep.
The sun was shining brilliantly into his chamber, when he awoke, and the
morning was far advanced. The gloom which had oppressed him on the
previous night had disappeared with the dark shadows which shrouded the
landscape, and his thoughts and feelings were as light and gay as the
morning itself. After a hearty breakfast, the four gentlemen sallied
forth to walk to Gravesend, followed by a man bearing the stone in its
deal box. They reached the town about one o’clock (their luggage they
had directed to be forwarded to the city, from Rochester), and being
fortunate enough to secure places on the outside of a coach, arrived in
London in sound health and spirits, on that same afternoon.
The next three or four days were occupied with the preparations which
were necessary for their journey to the borough of Eatanswill. As any
references to that most important undertaking demands a separate
chapter, we may devote the few lines which remain at the close of this,
to narrate, with great brevity, the history of the antiquarian
discovery.
It appears from the Transactions of the Club, then, that Mr. Pickwick
lectured upon the discovery at a General Club Meeting, convened on the
night succeeding their return, and entered into a variety of ingenious
and erudite speculations on the meaning of the inscription. It also
appears that a skilful artist executed a faithful delineation of the
curiosity, which was engraven on stone, and presented to the Royal
Antiquarian Society, and other learned bodies: that heart-burnings and
jealousies without number were created by rival controversies which were
penned upon the subject; and that Mr. Pickwick himself wrote a pamphlet,
containing ninety-six pages of very small print, and twenty-seven
different readings of the inscription: that three old gentlemen cut off
their eldest sons with a shilling a-piece for presuming to doubt the
antiquity of the fragment; and that one enthusiastic individual cut
himself off prematurely, in despair at being unable to fathom its
meaning: that Mr. Pickwick was elected an honorary member of seventeen
native and foreign societies, for making the discovery: that none of the
seventeen could make anything of it; but that all the seventeen agreed
it was very extraordinary.
Mr. Blotton, indeed--and the name will be doomed to the undying contempt
of those who cultivate the mysterious and the sublime--Mr. Blotton, we
say, with the doubt and cavilling peculiar to vulgar minds, presumed to
state a view of the case, as degrading as ridiculous. Mr. Blotton, with
a mean desire to tarnish the lustre of the immortal name of Pickwick,
actually undertook a journey to Cobham in person, and on his return,
sarcastically observed in an oration at the club, that he had seen the
man from whom the stone was purchased; that the man presumed the stone
to be ancient, but solemnly denied the antiquity of the inscription--
inasmuch as he represented it to have been rudely carved by himself in
an idle mood, and to display letters intended to bear neither more or
less than the simple construction of--‘BILL STUMPS, HIS MARK’; and that
Mr. Stumps, being little in the habit of original composition, and more
accustomed to be guided by the sound of words than by the strict rules
of orthography, had omitted the concluding ‘L’ of his Christian name.
The Pickwick Club (as might have been expected from so enlightened an
institution) received this statement with the contempt it deserved,
expelled the presumptuous and ill-conditioned Blotton from the society,
and voted Mr. Pickwick a pair of gold spectacles, in token of their
confidence and approbation: in return for which, Mr. Pickwick caused a
portrait of himself to be painted, and hung up in the club room.
Mr. Blotton was ejected but not conquered. He also wrote a pamphlet,
addressed to the seventeen learned societies, native and foreign,
containing a repetition of the statement he had already made, and rather
more than half intimating his opinion that the seventeen learned
societies were so many ‘humbugs.’ Hereupon, the virtuous indignation of
the seventeen learned societies being roused, several fresh pamphlets
appeared; the foreign learned societies corresponded with the native
learned societies; the native learned societies translated the pamphlets
of the foreign learned societies into English; the foreign learned
societies translated the pamphlets of the native learned societies into
all sorts of languages; and thus commenced that celebrated scientific
discussion so well known to all men, as the Pickwick controversy.
But this base attempt to injure Mr. Pickwick recoiled upon the head of
its calumnious author. The seventeen learned societies unanimously voted
the presumptuous Blotton an ignorant meddler, and forthwith set to work
upon more treatises than ever. And to this day the stone remains, an
illegible monument of Mr. Pickwick’s greatness, and a lasting trophy to
the littleness of his enemies.
CHAPTER XII. DESCRIPTIVE OF A VERY IMPORTANT PROCEEDING ON THE PART OF
MR. PICKWICK; NO LESS AN EPOCH IN HIS LIFE, THAN IN THIS HISTORY
Mr. Pickwick’s apartments in Goswell Street, although on a limited
scale, were not only of a very neat and comfortable description, but
peculiarly adapted for the residence of a man of his genius and
observation. His sitting-room was the first-floor front, his bedroom the
second-floor front; and thus, whether he were sitting at his desk in his
parlour, or standing before the dressing-glass in his dormitory, he had
an equal opportunity of contemplating human nature in all the numerous
phases it exhibits, in that not more populous than popular thoroughfare.
His landlady, Mrs. Bardell--the relict and sole executrix of a deceased
custom-house officer--was a comely woman of bustling manners and
agreeable appearance, with a natural genius for cooking, improved by
study and long practice, into an exquisite talent. There were no
children, no servants, no fowls. The only other inmates of the house
were a large man and a small boy; the first a lodger, the second a
production of Mrs. Bardell’s. The large man was always home precisely at
ten o’clock at night, at which hour he regularly condensed himself into
the limits of a dwarfish French bedstead in the back parlour; and the
infantine sports and gymnastic exercises of Master Bardell were
exclusively confined to the neighbouring pavements and gutters.
Cleanliness and quiet reigned throughout the house; and in it Mr.
Pickwick’s will was law.
To any one acquainted with these points of the domestic economy of the
establishment, and conversant with the admirable regulation of Mr.
Pickwick’s mind, his appearance and behaviour on the morning previous to