The Pickwick Papers
and energy of speech which so eminently distinguished him, would have
carried conviction to any reasonable mind; but, unfortunately, at that
particular moment, the mind of Mr. Peter Magnus was in anything but
reasonable order. Consequently, instead of receiving Mr. Pickwick’s
explanation as he ought to have done, he forthwith proceeded to work
himself into a red-hot, scorching, consuming passion, and to talk about
what was due to his own feelings, and all that sort of thing; adding
force to his declamation by striding to and fro, and pulling his hair--
amusements which he would vary occasionally, by shaking his fist in Mr.
Pickwick’s philanthropic countenance.
Mr. Pickwick, in his turn, conscious of his own innocence and rectitude,
and irritated by having unfortunately involved the middle-aged lady in
such an unpleasant affair, was not so quietly disposed as was his wont.
The consequence was, that words ran high, and voices higher; and at
length Mr. Magnus told Mr. Pickwick he should hear from him; to which
Mr. Pickwick replied, with laudable politeness, that the sooner he heard
from him the better; whereupon the middle-aged lady rushed in terror
from the room, out of which Mr. Tupman dragged Mr. Pickwick, leaving Mr.
Peter Magnus to himself and meditation.
If the middle-aged lady had mingled much with the busy world, or had
profited at all by the manners and customs of those who make the laws
and set the fashions, she would have known that this sort of ferocity is
the most harmless thing in nature; but as she had lived for the most
part in the country, and never read the parliamentary debates, she was
little versed in these particular refinements of civilised life.
Accordingly, when she had gained her bedchamber, bolted herself in, and
began to meditate on the scene she had just witnessed, the most terrific
pictures of slaughter and destruction presented themselves to her
imagination; among which, a full-length portrait of Mr. Peter Magnus
borne home by four men, with the embellishment of a whole barrelful of
bullets in his left side, was among the very least. The more the middle-
aged lady meditated, the more terrified she became; and at length she
determined to repair to the house of the principal magistrate of the
town, and request him to secure the persons of Mr. Pickwick and Mr.
Tupman without delay.
To this decision the middle-aged lady was impelled by a variety of
considerations, the chief of which was the incontestable proof it would
afford of her devotion to Mr. Peter Magnus, and her anxiety for his
safety. She was too well acquainted with his jealous temperament to
venture the slightest allusion to the real cause of her agitation on
beholding Mr. Pickwick; and she trusted to her own influence and power
of persuasion with the little man, to quell his boisterous jealousy,
supposing that Mr. Pickwick were removed, and no fresh quarrel could
arise. Filled with these reflections, the middle-aged lady arrayed
herself in her bonnet and shawl, and repaired to the mayor’s dwelling
straightway.
Now George Nupkins, Esquire, the principal magistrate aforesaid, was as
grand a personage as the fastest walker would find out, between sunrise
and sunset, on the twenty-first of June, which being, according to the
almanacs, the longest day in the whole year, would naturally afford him
the longest period for his search. On this particular morning, Mr.
Nupkins was in a state of the utmost excitement and irritation, for
there had been a rebellion in the town; all the day-scholars at the
largest day-school had conspired to break the windows of an obnoxious
apple-seller, and had hooted the beadle and pelted the constabulary--an
elderly gentleman in top-boots, who had been called out to repress the
tumult, and who had been a peace-officer, man and boy, for half a
century at least. And Mr. Nupkins was sitting in his easy-chair,
frowning with majesty, and boiling with rage, when a lady was announced
on pressing, private, and particular business. Mr. Nupkins looked calmly
terrible, and commanded that the lady should be shown in; which command,
like all the mandates of emperors, and magistrates, and other great
potentates of the earth, was forthwith obeyed; and Miss Witherfield,
interestingly agitated, was ushered in accordingly.
‘Muzzle!’ said the magistrate.
Muzzle was an undersized footman, with a long body and short legs.
‘Muzzle!’
Yes, your Worship.’
‘Place a chair, and leave the room.’
‘Yes, your Worship.’
‘Now, ma’am, will you state your business?’ said the magistrate.
‘It is of a very painful kind, Sir,’ said Miss Witherfield.
‘Very likely, ma’am,’ said the magistrate. ‘Compose your feelings,
ma’am.’ Here Mr. Nupkins looked benignant. ‘And then tell me what legal
business brings you here, ma’am.’ Here the magistrate triumphed over the
man; and he looked stern again.
‘It is very distressing to me, Sir, to give this information,’ said Miss
Witherfield, ‘but I fear a duel is going to be fought here.’
‘Here, ma’am?’ said the magistrate. ‘Where, ma’am?’
‘In Ipswich.’
In Ipswich, ma’am! A duel in Ipswich!’ said the magistrate, perfectly
aghast at the notion. ‘Impossible, ma’am; nothing of the kind can be
contemplated in this town, I am persuaded. Bless my soul, ma’am, are you
aware of the activity of our local magistracy? Do you happen to have
heard, ma’am, that I rushed into a prize-ring on the fourth of May last,
attended by only sixty special constables; and, at the hazard of falling
a sacrifice to the angry passions of an infuriated multitude, prohibited
a pugilistic contest between the Middlesex Dumpling and the Suffolk
Bantam? A duel in Ipswich, ma’am? I don’t think--I do not think,’ said
the magistrate, reasoning with himself, ‘that any two men can have had
the hardihood to plan such a breach of the peace, in this town.’
‘My information is, unfortunately, but too correct,’ said the middle-
aged lady; ‘I was present at the quarrel.’
‘It’s a most extraordinary thing,’ said the astounded magistrate.
‘Muzzle!’
‘Yes, your Worship.’
‘Send Mr. Jinks here, directly! Instantly.’
‘Yes, your Worship.’
Muzzle retired; and a pale, sharp-nosed, half-fed, shabbily-clad clerk,
of middle age, entered the room.
‘Mr. Jinks,’ said the magistrate. ‘Mr. Jinks.’
‘Sir,’ said Mr. Jinks.
‘This lady, Mr. Jinks, has come here, to give information of an intended
duel in this town.’
Mr. Jinks, not knowing exactly what to do, smiled a dependent’s smile.
‘What are you laughing at, Mr. Jinks?’ said the magistrate.
Mr. Jinks looked serious instantly.
‘Mr. Jinks,’ said the magistrate, ‘you’re a fool.’
Mr. Jinks looked humbly at the great man, and bit the top of his pen.
‘You may see something very comical in this information, Sir--but I can
tell you this, Mr. Jinks, that you have very little to laugh at,’ said
the magistrate.
The hungry-looking Jinks sighed, as if he were quite aware of the fact
of his having very little indeed to be merry about; and, being ordered
to take the lady’s information, shambled to a seat, and proceeded to
write it down.
‘This man, Pickwick, is the principal, I understand?’ said the
magistrate, when the statement was finished.
‘He is,’ said the middle-aged lady.
‘And the other rioter--what’s his name, Mr. Jinks?’
‘Tupman, Sir.’
Tupman is the second?’
‘Yes.’
‘The other principal, you say, has absconded, ma’am?’
‘Yes,’ replied Miss Witherfield, with a short cough.
‘Very well,’ said the magistrate. ‘These are two cut-throats from
London, who have come down here to destroy his Majesty’s population,
thinking that at this distance from the capital, the arm of the law is
weak and paralysed. They shall be made an example of. Draw up the
warrants, Mr. Jinks. Muzzle!’
‘Yes, your Worship.’
‘Is Grummer downstairs?’
‘Yes, your Worship.’
‘Send him up.’
The obsequious Muzzle retired, and presently returned, introducing the
elderly gentleman in the top-boots, who was chiefly remarkable for a
bottle-nose, a hoarse voice, a snuff-coloured surtout, and a wandering
eye.
‘Grummer,’ said the magistrate.
‘Your Wash-up.’
‘Is the town quiet now?’
‘Pretty well, your Wash-up,’ replied Grummer. ‘Pop’lar feeling has in a
measure subsided, consekens o’ the boys having dispersed to cricket.’
‘Nothing but vigorous measures will do in these times, Grummer,’ said
the magistrate, in a determined manner. ‘If the authority of the king’s
officers is set at naught, we must have the riot act read. If the civil
power cannot protect these windows, Grummer, the military must protect
the civil power, and the windows too. I believe that is a maxim of the
constitution, Mr. Jinks?’
Certainly, sir,’ said Jinks.
‘Very good,’ said the magistrate, signing the warrants. ‘Grummer, you
will bring these persons before me, this afternoon. You will find them
at the Great White Horse. You recollect the case of the Middlesex
Dumpling and the Suffolk Bantam, Grummer?’
Mr. Grummer intimated, by a retrospective shake of the head, that he
should never forget it--as indeed it was not likely he would, so long as
it continued to be cited daily.
‘This is even more unconstitutional,’ said the magistrate; ‘this is even
a greater breach of the peace, and a grosser infringement of his
Majesty’s prerogative. I believe duelling is one of his Majesty’s most
undoubted prerogatives, Mr. Jinks?’
‘Expressly stipulated in Magna Charta, sir,’ said Mr. Jinks.
‘One of the brightest jewels in the British crown, wrung from his
Majesty by the barons, I believe, Mr. Jinks?’ said the magistrate.
‘Just so, Sir,’ replied Mr. Jinks.
‘Very well,’ said the magistrate, drawing himself up proudly, ‘it shall
not be violated in this portion of his dominions. Grummer, procure
assistance, and execute these warrants with as little delay as possible.
Muzzle!’
‘Yes, your Worship.’
‘Show the lady out.’
Miss Witherfield retired, deeply impressed with the magistrate’s
learning and research; Mr. Nupkins retired to lunch; Mr. Jinks retired
within himself--that being the only retirement he had, except the sofa-
bedstead in the small parlour which was occupied by his landlady’s
family in the daytime--and Mr. Grummer retired, to wipe out, by his mode
of discharging his present commission, the insult which had been
fastened upon himself, and the other representative of his Majesty--the
beadle--in the course of the morning.
While these resolute and determined preparations for the conservation of
the king’s peace were pending, Mr. Pickwick and his friends, wholly
unconscious of the mighty events in progress, had sat quietly down to
dinner; and very talkative and companionable they all were. Mr. Pickwick
was in the very act of relating his adventure of the preceding night, to
the great amusement of his followers, Mr. Tupman especially, when the
door opened, and a somewhat forbidding countenance peeped into the room.
The eyes in the forbidding countenance looked very earnestly at Mr.
Pickwick, for several seconds, and were to all appearance satisfied with
their investigation; for the body to which the forbidding countenance
belonged, slowly brought itself into the apartment, and presented the
form of an elderly individual in top-boots--not to keep the reader any
longer in suspense, in short, the eyes were the wandering eyes of Mr.
Grummer, and the body was the body of the same gentleman.
Mr. Grummer’s mode of proceeding was professional, but peculiar. His
first act was to bolt the door on the inside; his second, to polish his
head and countenance very carefully with a cotton handkerchief; his
third, to place his hat, with the cotton handkerchief in it, on the
nearest chair; and his fourth, to produce from the breast-pocket of his