The Pickwick Papers
man, is the state of the public mind in London, with reference to my
contest with the _Independent_?’
‘Greatly excited, no doubt,’ interposed Mr. Perker, with a look of
slyness which was very likely accidental.
‘The contest,’ said Pott, ‘shall be prolonged so long as I have health
and strength, and that portion of talent with which I am gifted. From
that contest, Sir, although it may unsettle men’s minds and excite their
feelings, and render them incapable for the discharge of the everyday
duties of ordinary life; from that contest, sir, I will never shrink,
till I have set my heel upon the Eatanswill _Independent_. I wish the
people of London, and the people of this country to know, sir, that they
may rely upon me--that I will not desert them, that I am resolved to
stand by them, Sir, to the last.’
Your conduct is most noble, Sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick; and he grasped the
hand of the magnanimous Pott.
‘You are, sir, I perceive, a man of sense and talent,’ said Mr. Pott,
almost breathless with the vehemence of his patriotic declaration. ‘I am
most happy, sir, to make the acquaintance of such a man.’
‘And I,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘feel deeply honoured by this expression of
your opinion. Allow me, sir, to introduce you to my fellow-travellers,
the other corresponding members of the club I am proud to have founded.’
‘I shall be delighted,’ said Mr. Pott.
Mr. Pickwick withdrew, and returning with his friends, presented them in
due form to the editor of the Eatanswill _Gazette_.
‘Now, my dear Pott,’ said little Mr. Perker, ‘the question is, what are
we to do with our friends here?’
‘We can stop in this house, I suppose,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Not a spare bed in the house, my dear sir--not a single bed.’
‘Extremely awkward,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Very,’ said his fellow-voyagers.
‘I have an idea upon this subject,’ said Mr. Pott, ‘which I think may be
very successfully adopted. They have two beds at the Peacock, and I can
boldly say, on behalf of Mrs. Pott, that she will be delighted to
accommodate Mr. Pickwick and any one of his friends, if the other two
gentlemen and their servant do not object to shifting, as they best can,
at the Peacock.’
After repeated pressings on the part of Mr. Pott, and repeated
protestations on that of Mr. Pickwick that he could not think of
incommoding or troubling his amiable wife, it was decided that it was
the only feasible arrangement that could be made. So it _was _made; and
after dinner together at the Town Arms, the friends separated, Mr.
Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass repairing to the Peacock, and Mr. Pickwick and
Mr. Winkle proceeding to the mansion of Mr. Pott; it having been
previously arranged that they should all reassemble at the Town Arms in
the morning, and accompany the Honourable Samuel Slumkey’s procession to
the place of nomination.
Mr. Pott’s domestic circle was limited to himself and his wife. All men
whom mighty genius has raised to a proud eminence in the world, have
usually some little weakness which appears the more conspicuous from the
contrast it presents to their general character. If Mr. Pott had a
weakness, it was, perhaps, that he was rather too submissive to the
somewhat contemptuous control and sway of his wife. We do not feel
justified in laying any particular stress upon the fact, because on the
present occasion all Mrs. Pott’s most winning ways were brought into
requisition to receive the two gentlemen.
‘My dear,’ said Mr. Pott, ‘Mr. Pickwick--Mr. Pickwick of London.’
Mrs. Pott received Mr. Pickwick’s paternal grasp of the hand with
enchanting sweetness; and Mr. Winkle, who had not been announced at all,
sidled and bowed, unnoticed, in an obscure corner.
‘P. my dear’--said Mrs. Pott.
‘My life,’ said Mr. Pott.
‘Pray introduce the other gentleman.’
‘I beg a thousand pardons,’ said Mr. Pott. ‘Permit me, Mrs. Pott, Mr.--’
‘Winkle,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Winkle,’ echoed Mr. Pott; and the ceremony of introduction was
complete.
‘We owe you many apologies, ma’am,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘for disturbing
your domestic arrangements at so short a notice.’
‘I beg you won’t mention it, sir,’ replied the feminine Pott, with
vivacity. ‘It is a high treat to me, I assure you, to see any new faces;
living as I do, from day to day, and week to week, in this dull place,
and seeing nobody.’
‘Nobody, my dear!’ exclaimed Mr. Pott archly.
‘Nobody but you,’ retorted Mrs. Pott, with asperity.
‘You see, Mr. Pickwick,’ said the host in explanation of his wife’s
lament, ‘that we are in some measure cut off from many enjoyments and
pleasures of which we might otherwise partake. My public station, as
editor of the Eatanswill _Gazette_, the position which that paper holds
in the country, my constant immersion in the vortex of politics--’
‘P. my dear--’ interposed Mrs. Pott.
‘My life--’ said the editor.
‘I wish, my dear, you would endeavour to find some topic of conversation
in which these gentlemen might take some rational interest.’
‘But, my love,’ said Mr. Pott, with great humility, ‘Mr. Pickwick does
take an interest in it.’
‘It’s well for him if he can,’ said Mrs. Pott emphatically; ‘I am
wearied out of my life with your politics, and quarrels with the
_Independent_, and nonsense. I am quite astonished, P., at your making
such an exhibition of your absurdity.’
‘But, my dear--’ said Mr. Pott.
‘Oh, nonsense, don’t talk to me,’ said Mrs. Pott. ‘Do you play ecarte,
Sir?’
‘I shall be very happy to learn under your tuition,’ replied Mr. Winkle.
‘Well, then, draw that little table into this window, and let me get out
of hearing of those prosy politics.’
‘Jane,’ said Mr. Pott, to the servant who brought in candles, ‘go down
into the office, and bring me up the file of the _Gazette_ for eighteen
hundred and twenty-six. I’ll read you,’ added the editor, turning to Mr.
Pickwick--‘I’ll just read you a few of the leaders I wrote at that time
upon the Buff job of appointing a new tollman to the turnpike here; I
rather think they’ll amuse you.’
‘I should like to hear them very much indeed,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
Up came the file, and down sat the editor, with Mr. Pickwick at his
side.
We have in vain pored over the leaves of Mr. Pickwick’s note-book, in
the hope of meeting with a general summary of these beautiful
compositions. We have every reason to believe that he was perfectly
enraptured with the vigour and freshness of the style; indeed Mr. Winkle
has recorded the fact that his eyes were closed, as if with excess of
pleasure, during the whole time of their perusal.
The announcement of supper put a stop both to the game of ecarte, and
the recapitulation of the beauties of the Eatanswill _Gazette_. Mrs.
Pott was in the highest spirits and the most agreeable humour. Mr.
Winkle had already made considerable progress in her good opinion, and
she did not hesitate to inform him, confidentially, that Mr. Pickwick
was ‘a delightful old dear.’ These terms convey a familiarity of
expression, in which few of those who were intimately acquainted with
that colossal-minded man, would have presumed to indulge. We have
preserved them, nevertheless, as affording at once a touching and a
convincing proof of the estimation in which he was held by every class
of society, and the ease with which he made his way to their hearts and
feelings.
It was a late hour of the night--long after Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass
had fallen asleep in the inmost recesses of the Peacock--when the two
friends retired to rest. Slumber soon fell upon the senses of Mr.
Winkle, but his feelings had been excited, and his admiration roused;
and for many hours after sleep had rendered him insensible to earthly
objects, the face and figure of the agreeable Mrs. Pott presented
themselves again and again to his wandering imagination.
The noise and bustle which ushered in the morning were sufficient to
dispel from the mind of the most romantic visionary in existence, any
associations but those which were immediately connected with the
rapidly-approaching election. The beating of drums, the blowing of horns
and trumpets, the shouting of men, and tramping of horses, echoed and
re-echoed through the streets from the earliest dawn of day; and an
occasional fight between the light skirmishers of either party at once
enlivened the preparations, and agreeably diversified their character.
‘Well, Sam,’ said Mr. Pickwick, as his valet appeared at his bedroom
door, just as he was concluding his toilet; ‘all alive to-day, I
suppose?’
‘Reg’lar game, sir,’ replied Mr. Weller; ‘our people’s a-collecting down
at the Town Arms, and they’re a-hollering themselves hoarse already.’
‘Ah,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘do they seem devoted to their party, Sam?’
‘Never see such dewotion in my life, Sir.’
‘Energetic, eh?’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Uncommon,’ replied Sam; ‘I never see men eat and drink so much afore. I
wonder they ain’t afeer’d o’ bustin’.’
‘That’s the mistaken kindness of the gentry here,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Wery likely,’ replied Sam briefly.
‘Fine, fresh, hearty fellows they seem,’ said Mr. Pickwick, glancing
from the window.
‘Wery fresh,’ replied Sam; ‘me and the two waiters at the Peacock has
been a-pumpin’ over the independent woters as supped there last night.’
‘Pumping over independent voters!’ exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.
‘Yes,’ said his attendant, ‘every man slept vere he fell down; we
dragged ‘em out, one by one, this mornin’, and put ‘em under the pump,
and they’re in reg’lar fine order now. Shillin’ a head the committee
paid for that ‘ere job.’
‘Can such things be!’ exclaimed the astonished Mr. Pickwick.
‘Lord bless your heart, sir,’ said Sam, ‘why where was you half
baptised?--that’s nothin’, that ain’t.’
‘Nothing?’said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Nothin’ at all, Sir,’ replied his attendant. ‘The night afore the last
day o’ the last election here, the opposite party bribed the barmaid at
the Town Arms, to hocus the brandy-and-water of fourteen unpolled
electors as was a-stoppin’ in the house.’
‘What do you mean by “hocussing” brandy-and-water?’ inquired Mr.
Pickwick.
‘Puttin’ laud’num in it,’ replied Sam. ‘Blessed if she didn’t send ‘em
all to sleep till twelve hours arter the election was over. They took
one man up to the booth, in a truck, fast asleep, by way of experiment,
but it was no go--they wouldn’t poll him; so they brought him back, and
put him to bed again.’
Strange practices, these,’ said Mr. Pickwick; half speaking to himself
and half addressing Sam.
‘Not half so strange as a miraculous circumstance as happened to my own
father, at an election time, in this wery place, Sir,’ replied Sam.
‘What was that?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick.
‘Why, he drove a coach down here once,’ said Sam; ‘’lection time came
on, and he was engaged by vun party to bring down woters from London.
Night afore he was going to drive up, committee on t’ other side sends
for him quietly, and away he goes vith the messenger, who shows him in;-
-large room--lots of gen’l’m’n--heaps of papers, pens and ink, and all
that ‘ere. “Ah, Mr. Weller,” says the gen’l’m’n in the chair, “glad to
see you, sir; how are you?”--“Wery well, thank ‘ee, Sir,” says my
father; “I hope you’re pretty middlin,” says he.--“Pretty well,
thank’ee, Sir,” says the gen’l’m’n; “sit down, Mr. Weller--pray sit
down, sir.” So my father sits down, and he and the gen’l’m’n looks wery
hard at each other. “You don’t remember me?” said the gen’l’m’n.--“Can’t
say I do,” says my father.--“Oh, I know you,” says the gen’l’m’n:
“know’d you when you was a boy,” says he.--“Well, I don’t remember you,”
says my father.--“That’s wery odd,” says the gen’l’m’n.”--“Wery,” says
my father.--“You must have a bad mem’ry, Mr. Weller,” says the
gen’l’m’n.--“Well, it is a wery bad ‘un,” says my father.--“I thought