PICKWICKIAN STUDIES

BYPERCY FITZGERALD, M. A. , F. S. A. AUTHOR OF "_The History of Pickwick_, " "_Pickwickian Manners andCustoms_, ""_Bozland_, " _&c. _

London:THE NEW CENTURY PRESS, LIMITED434 STRAND, W. C1899

CHAPTER I. IPSWICH

I. --The Great White Horse

This ancient Inn is associated with some pleasant and divertingPickwickian memories. We think of the adventure with "the lady in theyellow curl papers" and the double-bedded room, just as we would recallsome "side splitting" farce in which Buckstone or Toole once made ourjaws ache. As all the world knows, the "Great White Horse" is found inthe good old town of Ipswich, still flourishes, and is scarcely alteredfrom the days when Mr. Pickwick put up there. Had it not been thusassociated, Ipswich would have remained a place obscure and scarcelyknown, for it has little to attract save one curious old house and someold churches; and for the theatrical antiquary, the remnant of the oldtheatre in Tacket Street, where Garrick first appeared as an amateurunder the name of Lyddal, about a hundred and sixty years ago, and wherenow the Salvation Army "performs" in his stead. {1} The touch of "Boz"kindled the old bones into life, it peopled the narrow, winding streetswith the Grummers, Nupkins, Jingles, Pickwick and his followers; with theimmortal lady aforesaid in her yellow curl papers, to say nothing of Mr. Peter Magnus. From afar off even, we look at Ipswich with a singularinterest; some of us go down there to enjoy the peculiar feeling--and it_is_ a peculiar and piquant one--of staying at Mr. Pickwick's Inn--ofsleeping even in his room. This relish, however, is only given to yourtrue "follower, " not to his German-metal counterfeit--though, strange tosay, at this moment, Pickwick is chiefly "made in Germany, " and comes tous from that country in highly-coloured almanacks--and pictures of allkinds. About Ipswich there is a very appropriate old-fashioned tone, andmuch of the proper country town air. The streets seem dingy enough--thehay waggon is encountered often. The "Great White Horse, " which is atthe corner of several streets, is a low, longish building--with a ratherseedy air. But to read "Boz's" description of it, we see at once that hewas somewhat overpowered by its grandeur and immense size--which, to usin these days of huge hotels, seems odd. It was no doubt a large postinghouse of many small chambers--and when crowded, as "Boz" saw it atElection time in 1835, swarming with committeemen, agents, and voters, must have impressed more than it would now. The Ball-room at "The Bull, "in Rochester, affected him in much the same way; and there is a curioussensation in looking round us there, on its modest proportions--itslittle hutch of a gallery which would hold about half-a-dozen musicans, and the small contracted space at the top where the "swells" of thedockyard stood together. "Boz, " as he himself once told me, took awayfrom Rochester the idea that its old, red brick Guildhall was one of themost imposing edifices in Europe, and described his astonishment on hisreturn at seeing how small it was. 

Apropos of Rochester and the Pickwick feeling, it may be said that topass that place by on the London, Chatham, and Dover line rouses the mostcurious sensation. Above is the Castle, seen a long time before, withthe glistening river at its feet; then one skirts the town passing by thebacks of the very old-fashioned houses, and you can recognise those ofthe Guildhall and of the Watts' Charity, and the gilt vanes of otherquaint, old buildings; you see a glimpse of the road rising and falling, with its pathways raised on each side, with all sorts of fadedtints--mellow, subdued reds, sombre greys, a patch of green here andthere, and all more or less dingy, and "quite out of fashion. " There isa rather forlorn tone over it all, especially when we have a glimpse ofOrdnance Terrace, at Chatham, that abandoned, dilapidated row where theboy Dickens was brought up dismally enough. At that moment the images ofthe Pickwickians recur as of persons who had lived and had come downthere on this pleasant adventure. And how well we know every stone andcorner of the place, and the tone of the place! We might have livedthere ourselves. Positively, as we walk through it, we seem to recogniselocalities like old friends. 

"Boz, " when he came to Ipswich, was no more than a humble reporter, onspecial duty, living in a homely way enough. The "White Horse" was notlikely to put itself out for him, and he criticises it in his story, after a fashion that seems rather bold. His description is certainlyunflattering:

 "In the main street, on the left-hand side of the way"--observe how minute Boz is in his topography--"a short distance after you have passed through the open space fronting the Town Hall, stands an Inn known far and wide by the appellation of 'The Great White Horse, ' rendered the more conspicuous by a stone statue of some rampacious animal, with flowing mane and tail, distantly resembling an insane cart horse, which is elevated above the principal door. The 'Great White Horse' is famous in the neighbourhood in the same degree as a prize ox or county paper-chronicled turnip, or unwieldy pig--for its _enormous size_. Never were there such labyrinths of _uncarpeted passages_, such clusters of _mouldy_, _badly-lighted rooms_, such huge numbers of small dens for eating or sleeping in, beneath any other roof, as are collected between the four walls of this overgrown Tavern. "

Boz cannot give the accommodation a good word, for he calls thePickwickian room "a large, badly furnished apartment, with _a dirtygrate_ in which a small fire was making a wretched attempt to becheerful, but was fast sinking beneath the dispiriting influence of theplace. " The dinner, too, seems to have been as bad, for a _bit of fish_and a steak took one hour to get ready, with "_a bottle of the worstpossible port_, _at the highest possible price_. " Depreciation of ahostelry could not be more damaging. Again, Mr. Pickwick's bedroom isdescribed as a sort of surprise, being "a more comfortable-lookingapartment that his short experience of the accommodation of the GreatWhite House had led him to expect. "

Now this was bad enough, but his sketch of the waiter who received thearriving party is worse:

 "A corpulent man, with a fortnight's napkin under his arm and coeval stockings. "

There is something so hostile in all this that it certainly must havecome from a sense of bad reception. As we said, the young reporter waslikely enough to have been treated with haughty contempt by the corpulentwaiter so admirably described, with his "coeval stockings. "

Even the poor horse is not spared, "Rampacious" he is styled; the stoneanimal that still stands over the porch. It must be said that the steedin question is a very mild animal indeed, and far from ramping, istrotting placidly along. "Rampacious, " however, scarcely seemscorrect--"Rampagious" is the proper form--particularly as "Boz" uses thewords "On the rampage. " We find ourselves ever looking at the animalwith interest--as he effects his trot, one leg bent. The porch, andhorse above it, have a sort of sacred character. I confess when I saw itfor the first time I looked at it with an almost absurd reverence andcuriosity. The thing is so much in keeping, one would expect to see thecoach laden with Pickwickians drive up. 

Mr. Pickwick's adventure, his losing his way in the passages, &c. , mightoccur to anyone. It is an odd feeling, the staying at this old hostelry, and, as it draws on towards midnight, seeking your room, through endlesswindings, turns, and short flights. There is even now to be seen theniche where Mr. Pickwick sat down for the night; so minute are thedirections we can trace the various rooms. Mr. Pickwick asked for aprivate room and was taken down a "long dark passage. " It turned outlater that Miss Witherfield's sitting-room was actually next door, so Mr. Magnus had not far to go. These rooms were on the ground floor, so Mr. Pickwick had to "descend" from his bedroom. 

There is a tradition indeed that Mr. Pickwick's adventure with a ladyreally occurred to "Boz" himself, who had lost his way in the mazes ofthe passages. I have a theory that his uncomfortable night in thepassages, and the possible displeasure of the authorities, may havejaundiced his views. 

II. --Eatanswill and Ipswich

It is not "generally known" that Ipswich is introduced twice in the book:as Eatanswill, as well asunder its own proper name. As "Boz" was dealingwith the corrupt practices at Elections, and severely ridiculing them, hewas naturally afraid of being made responsible. Further, he had beendespatched by the proprietors of the _Chronicle_ to report the speechesat the election, and he did not care to take advantage of his mission forliterary purposes. The father of the late Mr. Alfred Morrison, the well-known, amiable virtuoso, was one of the candidates for Ipswich at theelection in 1835, and he used to tell how young "Boz" was introduced intoone of the rooms at the "Great White Horse, " where the head-quarters ofthe candidate was. Sir Fitzroy Kelly was the other candidate, a namethat seems pointed at in Fizkin. 

This high and mighty point of the locality of Eatanswill has given riseto much discussion, and there are those who urge the claims of othertowns, such as Yarmouth and Norwich. It has been ingeniously urged that, in his examination before Nupkins, Mr. Pickwick stated that he was aperfect stranger in the town, and had no knowledge of any householdersthere who could be bail for him. Now if Eatanswill were Ipswich, he musthave known many--the Pott family for instance--and he had resided therefor some time. But the author did not intend that the reader shouldbelieve that the two places were the same, and wished them to beconsidered different towns, though _he_ considered them as one. It hasbeen urged, too, that Ipswich is not on the direct road to Norwich asstated by the author; but on consulting an old road book (Mogg's) I findthat it is one of the important stages on the coach line. 

But what is conclusive is the question of distance. On hurrying away soabruptly from Mrs. Leo Hunter's, Mr. Pickwick was told by that lady thatthe adventurer was at Bury St. Edmunds, "_not many miles from here_, "that is a short way off. Now Bury is no more than about four-and-twentymiles from Ipswich, a matter of about four hours' coach travelling. GreatYarmouth is fully seventy by roundabout roads, which could not bedescribed as being "a short way from here. " It would have taken eight ornine hours--a day's journey. Mr. Pickwick left Eatanswill about one ortwo, for the lunch was going on, and got to Bury in time for dinner, which, had he left Yarmouth, would have taken him to the small hours ofthe morning. 

No one was such a thorough "Pressman" as was "Boz, " or threw himself withsuch ardour into his profession. To his zeal and knowledge in thisrespect we have the warmest testimonies. When he was at Ipswich for theelection, he, beyond doubt, entered with zest and enjoyment into all thehumours. No one could have written so minute and hearty an accountwithout having been "behind the scenes" and in the confidence of one orother of the parties. And no wonder, for he represented one of the mostimportant of the London "dailies. "

The fact is, Ipswich was a sort of a tempestuous borough, the scene ofmany a desperate conflict in which one individual, Mr. FitzroyKelly--later Chief Baron--made the most persevering efforts, again andagain renewed, to secure his footing. Thus, in December, 1832, there wasa fierce struggle with other candidates, Messrs. Morrison, Dundas, andRigby Wason, in which he was worsted--for the moment. But, in January, 1835, when he stood again, he was successful. This must have been theone in Pickwick, when the excesses there described may have taken place. There were four candidates: one of whom, Mr. Dundas--no doubt depicted asthe Honourable Mr. Slumkey--being of the noble family of Zetland. Wefind that the successful candidate was unseated on petition, and hisplace taken by another candidate. In 1837, he stood once more, and wasdefeated by a very narrow majority. On a scrutiny, he was restored toParliament. Finally, in 1847, he lost the seat and gave up this veryuncertain borough. Now all this shows what forces were at work, andthat, with such determined candidates, electoral purity was not likely tostand in the way. All which makes for Ipswich. 

It must be said, however, that a fair case can be made for Norwich. Inintroducing Eatanswill, Boz says that "an anxious desire to abstain fromgiving offence" prompted Mr. Pickwick, _i. E. _, Boz, to conceal the realname of the place. He adds that he travelled by the Norwich coach, "butthis entry (in Mr. Pickwick's notes) was afterwards lined through as iffor the purpose of concealing even the direction. " Some might think thatthis was a veiled indication, but it seems too broad and obvious amethod, that is, by crossing out a name to reveal the name. It is muchmore likely he meant that the town was somewhere between Norwich andLondon, and on that line. There are arguments, too, from the distances. There are two journeys in the book from Eatanswill to Bury, which seem tofurnish data for both theories--the Ipswich and the Norwich ones. But ifwe have to take the _dejeuner_ in its literal sense, and put it early inthe day, say, at eleven, and Mr. Pickwick's arrival at Bury, "wery late, "as Sam had it, we have some six hours, or, say, forty miles, covered bythe journey. But the events at Mrs. Leo Hunter's were certainly at mid-day--between one and three o'clock. It was, in fact, a grand lunch. Sowith Winkle's journey. He left Eatanswill half-an-hour after breakfast, and must have travelled by the same coach as Mr. Pickwick had done, andreached Bury just in time for dinner, or in six or seven hours. Now itwill not be said that he would not be a whole day going four-and-twentymiles. 

A fair answer to these pleas might be that Boz was not too scrupulous asto times or distances when he was contriving incidents or events; andnumberless specimens could be given of his inaccuracies. Here, "pantingtime toiled after him in vain. " It was enough to talk of breakfast anddinner without accurately computing the space between. But a closeadmeasurement of the distance will disprove the Norwich theory. Bury wastwenty-four miles from Ipswich, and Ipswich forty miles from Norwich--atotal of seventy-four miles, to accomplish which would have taken ten, eleven or twelve hours, to say nothing of the chance of missing the"correspondance" with the Northern Norwich coach. Then again, Boz iscareful to state that Eatanswill was "one of the smaller towns. " In thisclass we would not place Norwich, a large Cathedral City, with itsinnumerable churches, and population, even then, of over 60, 000, whereasIpswich was certainly one of these "smaller towns, " having only 20, 000. It must be also considered, too, that this was a cross road, when thepace would be slower than on the great main lines, say, at five miles anhour, which, with stoppages, &c. , would occupy a period for the twenty-four miles of some four hours, that is, say, from two to six o'clock. Boz, by his arrangement of the traffic, would seem to assume that aconveyance could be secured at any time of the day, for Mr. Pickwickconveniently found one the instant he so abruptly quitted Mrs. LeoHunter's, while Winkle and his friends just as conveniently found oneimmediately after breakfast. He appears to have been seven hours on theroad. But the strong point on which all Ipswichians may rest secure isMr. Pickwick's statement to Mrs. Leo Hunter that Bury was "not many milesfrom here. "

But an even more convincing proof can be found in Jingle's relation toEatanswill. He came over from Bury to Mrs. Leo Hunter's party, leavinghis servant there, at the Hotel, and returned the same evening. Theplace must have been but a short way off, when he could go and return inthe same day. Then what brought him to Eatanswill? We are told that atthe time he was courting Miss Nupkins, the Mayor's daughter; of course, he rushed over in the hope of meeting her at Mrs. Leo Hunter's_dejeuner_. Everything, therefore, fits well together. 

I thought of consulting the report of the House of Commons Committee onthe Election Petition, and this confirmed my view. There great stress islaid on the Blue and Buff colours: in both the report and the novel it ismentioned that the constables' staves were painted Blue. Boz makes BobSawyer say, in answer to Potts' horrified enquiry "Not Buff, sir?" "WellI'm a kind of plaid at present--mixed colours"--something very like thishe must have noticed in the Report. A constable, asked was his comrade, one Seagrave, Buff, answered, "_well_, _half and half_, _I believe_. " Inthe Report, voters were captured and put to bed at the White Horse; andSam tells how he "pumped over" a number of voters at the same house. Thevery waiter, who received Mr. Pickwick so contemptuously, was examined bythe Committee--his name was Henry Cowey--and he answered exactly like thewaiter with the "fortnight's napkin and the coeval stockings. " Whenasked "was not so-and-so's appearance that of an intoxicated person?" thelanguage seemed too much for him, rather, he took it to himself: "If I_had_ been intoxicated, I could not have done my business. " This isquite in character. 

Boz calls the inn at Eatanswill, "The Town Arms. " There was no such signin all England at the time, as the Road Book shows. Why then would hecall the White Horse by that name? The Town Arms of Ipswich have twowhite _Sea Horses_ as supporters. This had certainly something to dowith the matter. 

Mr. Pott was surely a real personage: for "Boz, " who presently did notscruple to "takeoff" a living Yorkshire schoolmaster in a fashion thatall his neighbours and friends recognised the original, would not drawback in the case of an editor. Indeed, it is plain that in all pointsPott is truly an admirable figure, perfect in every point of view, andfinished. In fact, Pott and Pell, in their way, are the two best piecesof work in the book. How admirable is the description; "a tall, thin manwith a sandy-coloured head, inclined to baldness, and a face in whichsolemn importance was blended with a look of unfathomable profundity. Hewas dressed in a long, brown surtout, with a black cloth waistcoat anddrab trousers. A double eye-glass dangled at his waistcoat, and on hishead he wore a very low-crowned hat with a broad rim. " Every touch isdelightful--although all is literal the literalness is all humour. Aswhen Pott, to recreate his guest, Mr. Pickwick, told Jane to "go downinto the office and bring me up the file of the Gazette for 1828. I'llread you just a few of the leaders I wrote at that time upon the Buff jobof appointing a new tollman to the turnpike here. I rather think they'llamuse you. " This was rich enough, and he came back to the same topictowards the end of the book. 

It will be remembered Mr. Pott went to Mrs. Leo Hunter's _Fete_ in thecharacter of a Russian with a knout in his hand. No doubt the Gazettehad its "eye on Russia" and like the famous _Skibbereen Eagle_ hadsolemnly warned the Autocrat to that effect. It is, by the way, amusingto find that this organ, _The Eagle_ to wit, which so increased thegaiety of the nation, has once more been warning the Autocrat, and in avein that proves that "our filthy contemporary, " _The EatanswillGazette_, was no exaggerated picture. This is how _The Eagle_, in a lateissue, speaks of the Russian occupation of Port Arthur:--"And once againthat keen, fierce glance is cast in the direction of the graspingMuscovite; again, one of the foulest, one of the vilest dynasties thathas impiously trampled on the laws of God, and has violated everyprogressive aspiration the Almighty implanted in the human heart when Hefashioned man in His own image, and breathed into his soul the breath oflife, threatens, for the moment at least, to put back the hands of theclock that tells the progress of civilisation. The Emperor of all theRussias, this wicked enemy of the human race, has succeeded in raisinghis hideous flag on Port Arthur, and planting his iron heel and clovenhoof on the heathen Chinese--filthy, degenerate creatures, who, it mustbe admitted, are fitting companions for the tallow-eating, 'knouting'barbarian. "

III. --Nupkins and Magnus. 

Who was intended by Nupkins, the intolerable Mayor of Ipswich? An odiousbeing. We may wonder at "Boz's" courage, for, of course, the existingMayor of Ipswich might think that the satire was pointed at _him_. Therecan be little doubt, however, that Nupkins was drawn from a London PoliceMagistrate, and is, in fact, another portrait of the functionary whom hesketched specially for "Oliver Twist" under the name of Mr. Fang. Nupkins, however, is more in the comedy vein--ridiculed rather thangibbeted--than was Mr. Fang. We have only to compare the touches in bothdescriptions:

 "I beg your pardon for interrupting you, " said Mr. Pickwick, "but before you proceed to act upon any opinion you may have formed, I must claim my right to be heard. "

 "Hold your tongue, " said the magistrate, peremptorily. 

 "I must submit to you, sir--" said Mr. Pickwick. 

 "Hold your tongue, or I shall order an officer to remove you. "

 "You may order your officers to do whatever you please, sir, " said Mr. Pickwick. 

Compare with this "Oliver Twist":

 "Who are you?" said Mr. Fang. 

 "Before I am sworn, I must beg to say one word, and that is I really never, without actual experience, could have believed--"

 "Hold your tongue, sir, " said Mr. Fang, peremptorily. 

 "I will not, sir. "

 "Hold your tongue this instant, or I'll have you turned out of the office. "

Mr. Pickwick, it will be remembered, made a communication to Mr. Nupkinswhich changed the whole state of affairs. Mr. Nupkins, with all hisinsolent despotism, was held in check by conference with his clerk, Jinks, who kept him from making mistakes by judicious hints. 

Fang's clerk, like Mr. Jinks, interposed:

 "How do you propose to deal with the case, sir?" inquired the clerk, in a low voice. 

 Mr. Jinks pulled him by the sleeve and whispered something. He was evidently remonstrating. At length the magistrate, gulping down with a very bad grace his disinclination to hear anything more, said sharply, "What do you want to say?"

When Mr. Fang was about to commit Oliver, the Bookstall-keeper rushed in, and insisted on being heard, and, like Mr. Nupkins, Mr. Fang had tolisten:

 "I demand to be sworn, " said the man, "I will not be put down. "

 "Swear the man, " growled Mr. Fang, with a very ill grace. "Now, what have you got to say?"

Again, Mr. Nupkins said of Sam:

 "He is evidently a desperate ruffian. "

 "He is my servant, sir, " said Mr. Pickwick, angrily. 

 "Oh, he is your servant, is he. A conspiracy to defeat the ends of justice. "

Compare Fang and the Bookseller:

 "That book, is it paid for? No, it is not. "

 "Dear me, I forgot all about it, " exclaimed the old gentleman. 

 "A nice person to prepare a charge against a poor boy, " said Fang; "the law will overtake you yet, &c. "

and so on. 

In short, Nupkins is a softened edition of Fang. It was curious that heturned out at the end not altogether so badly, and there is certainly alittle inconsistency in the character. After Mr. Pickwick's disclosures, he becomes very rational and amiable. We may wonder, too, how the lattercould have accepted hospitality from, or have sat down at the board of, the man who treated him in so gross a fashion, and, further, that afteraccepting this entertainment, Mr. Pickwick should take an heroic andinjured tone, recalling his injuries as he withdrew, but _after_ hisdinner. 

This magistrate was despotic enough, but we might have expected that hewould have had Mr. Peter Magnus brought before him also, and have issueda warrant. The lady, however, was silent as to her admirer, and thisdifficulty appears to have occurred to the author for he makes Mr. Nupkins remark: "The other principal _you say_ has absconded, " she havingsaid nothing whatever. Being at the "White Horse, " too, he wasaccessible. He may, however, have gone off to secure "a friend. "

In Ipswich there is controversy as to the exact whereabouts of hismansion. But there can be little doubt as to the matter, as thedirections given are minute. The guide books take care to point it out. "Bending his steps towards St. Clement's Church"--that is leaving the"White Horse" and following the street on the right, "he found himself ina retired spot, a kind of courtyard of venerable appearance, which hediscovered had no other outlet than the turning by which he had entered. "I believe it is the house at the far end of the lane--now Mr. Bennett's. The street has been cut through the lawn. There are here, as there werethen, "old red brick houses" and "the green gate of a garden at thebottom of the yard. " Nothing could be more precise, allowing of coursefor the changes, demolitions, re-buildings, &c. , of sixty years. 

What became of Mr. Peter Magnus and his lady? Did they "make it up"? orwas Mr. Pickwick enabled to make such explanations as would clear awayall suspicions. Did the two angry gentlemen meet again after Mr. Pickwick's return to the "White Horse?" These are interesting questions, and one at least can be answered. Owing to an indiscretion of thefoolish Winkle's, during the famous action of Bardell v. Pickwick, welearn that Mr. Pickwick "being found in a lady's apartment at midnighthad led to the _breaking off of the projected marriage_ of the lady inquestion. " Now this seems a serious result of Mr. Pickwick'sindiscretion, and very unfortunate for the poor lady, and ought to havecaused him some remorse. No doubt he explained the incident, which hehad better have done at first, for _now_ it had the air of attempting toshield the lady. It was odd that Mr. Pickwick should thus haveinterfered with the marriage of _two_ elderly spinster ladies. 

There is, by the way, a droll inconsistency on the part of the author inhis description of a scene between Mr. Magnus and Mr. Pickwick. When theformer was about to propose to the middle-aged lady, he told Mr. Pickwickthat he arranged to see her at eleven. "It only wants a quarter now. "Breakfast was waiting, and the pair sat down to it. Mr. Magnus waslooking at the clock every other second. Presently he announced, "Itonly wants _two minutes_. " Notwithstanding this feverish impatience, heasks Mr. Pickwick for his advice in proposing, which the latter gave atgreat length. Mr. Magnus listened, now without any impatience. Theclock hand was "verging on the five minutes past;" not until it was _ten_minutes past did he rise. 

IV. --Had Mr. Pickwick ever Loved?

Mr. Pickwick's early history is obscure enough, and we know no detailssave that he had been "in business. " But had he ever an affair of theheart? Just as in real life, when a stray allusion will occasionallyescape from a person betraying something of his past history, so once ortwice a casual remark of Mr. Pickwick's furnishes a hint. Thus Mr. Magnus, pressing him for his advice in this delicate matter of proposing, asked him had he ever done this sort of thing in his time. "You meanproposing?" said the great man. "Yes. " "Never, " said Mr. Pickwick, _with great energy_, and then repeated the word "Never. " His friend thenassumed that he did not know how it was best to begin. "Why, " said theother, cautiously, "I may have formed some ideas on the subject, " butthen added that he had "never submitted them to the test of experience. "This is distinct enough, but it does all the same hint at some _affairede coeur_, else why would he "have formed some ideas upon the subject. "Of course, it may be that he was thinking of Mrs. Bardell and her cruelcharges. Still, it was strange that a man should have reached to fifty, have grown round and stout, without ever offering his hand. The firstpicture in the book, however, helps us to speculate a little. Over hishead in the room at Dulwich hangs the portrait of an old lady inspectacles, the image of the great Samuel; his mother certainly. Heevidently regarded her with deep affection, he had brought the picture toDulwich and placed it where it should always be before his eyes. Couldit not be, and is it not natural that in addition to his otheramiabilities he was the best of sons--that she "ruled the roast"--that inthe old Mrs. Wardle, to whom he so filially attended, he saw his mother'simage, that she was with him to the day of her death, and that while shelived, he resolved that no one else should be mistress there! After herdeath he found himself a confirmed old bachelor. There's a speculationfor you on the German lines. 

We might go on. This self denial must have been the more meritorious ashe was by nature of an affectionate, even amorous, cast. He seized everyopportunity of kissing the young ladies. He would certainly have likedto have had some fair being at home whom he could thus distinguish. Howgood this description of the rogue--

 "Mr. Pickwick kissed the young ladies--we were going to say as if they were his own daughters, only, as he might possibly have infused _a little more warmth into the salutation_, the comparison would not be quite appropriate. "

He never lost a chance. In the same spirit, when the blushing Arabellacame to tell of her marriage, "can you forgive my imprudence?" Hereturned "no verbal response"--not he--"but _took off his spectacles ingreat haste_, and seizing both the young lady's hands in his, kissed hera great many times--perhaps a greater number of times than was absolutelynecessary. " Observe the artfulness of all this--the deliberation--takingoff the spectacles so that they should not be in the way--seizing herhands--and then setting to work! Oh, he knew more of "this sort ofthing" than he had credit for. He had never proposed--true--but he hadbeen near it a precious sight more than he said. 

Miss Witherfield is a rather mysterious personage, yet we take aninterest in her and speculate on her history. She lived some twentymiles from Ipswich--no doubt at a family place of her own. She had comein to stay at the White Horse for the night and the morning. She was, nodoubt, a person of property--otherwise Mr. Magnus would not have been soeager, and he must have been a fortune hunter, for he confided to Mr. Pickwick, that he had been jilted "three or four times. " What a quaintnotion by the way that of his: "I think an Inn is a good sort of place topropose to a single woman in, Mr. Pickwick. She is more likely to feelthe loneliness of her situation in travelling, perhaps than she would be, at home. "

We find here some of the always amusing bits of confusion that recur inthe book. Here might be a Calverley question, "When was it, and wherewas it, that the Pickwickians had _two_ dinners in the one day?" Answer:At the Great White Horse on this very visit. When Mr. Nupkins retired tolunch, after his interview with Miss Witherfield, the Pickwickians satdown to their dinner "quietly, " and were in the midst of that meal, whenGrummer arrived to arrest them. They were taken to Nupkins', and theredined with him. This dinner would have brought them to five o'clock:--weare told of candles--so that it was dark--yet this was the month of May, when it would been light enough till eight o'clock. Mrs. Nupkins' dress, on coming in from lunch, is worth noting. "A blue gauze turban and alight brown wig. "

Again, it was to Mr. Pickwick's watch, that we owe the diverting andfarcical incident of the double bedded bedroom--and indeed we have hereall the licensed improbabilities of a Farce. To forget his watch on ahotel table was the last thing a staid man of business would do. Howcould he be made to forget it? "By winding it up, " said the author. "Winding up his watch, and _laying it on the table_. " This was of coursein the _Fob_ days, when the watch had to be drawn from the deep pocket;not as now when it is secured with a "guard chain. " Naturally, he mightin an abstracted moment have so laid it down. 

As an instance of the natural, every-day sort of tone prevailing throughthe book, it may be noted that it is mentioned as a matter of history, that the breakfast next day was at eleven o'clock--a late hour. But weknow, though it is not pointed out, that Mr. Magnus and Mr. Pickwick hadsat till morning drinking brandy and water, and that Mr. Pickwick hadspent a portion of the night wandering about the Hotel. Naturally hecame down late. 

We are also minutely told that Mr. Magnus left the room at ten minutespast eleven. Mr. Pickwick "took a few strides to and fro, " when itbecame half past eleven! But this is a rather mysterious passage, for wenext learn that "the _small hand_ of the clock, following the _latterpart_ of his example, had arrived at the figure which indicates the halfhour. " The "latter part, " would refer to "fro. " Perhaps it is a freshgibe at the unlucky White Horse and its administration. The "smallhand, " in any case, could not, and would not, point to the half hour, save that it had got loosened, and had jumped down, as hands will do, toseek the centre of gravity. 

How natural, too, is the appearance of Jingle. With Wardles' 120 poundsin his pocket, he was flush of cash, and could make a new appearance--ina new district--as an officer--Captain FitzMarshall. He was "picked up, "we are told, at some neighbouring races. Sudbury and Stowmarket are notfar off. 

Some years ago, the late Lady Quain was staying at Ipswich and took sodeep an interest in the "Great White Horse" and its traditions that shehad it with all its apartments photographed on a large scale, forming aregular series. Her husband, the amiable physician whose loss we have todeplore, gave them to me. The "White Horse" was decidedly wrong inhaving Mr. Pickwick's double-bedded room fitted up with brass Birminghambedsteads. Were I the proprietor I would assuredly have the roomarranged exactly as in Phiz's picture--the two old-fashioned four-postswith the dimity curtains, the rush light and shade on the floor, the oldglass on the dressing-table. To be even more realistic still there mightbe added Mr. Pickwick's night-capped head peeping out, and the leanpresentment of the lady herself, all, say, in wax, _a la Tussaud_. Whata show and attraction that would be!

The author's ingenuity was never at fault in the face of a difficulty. Mr. Pickwick was to be got to Nupkins' in a sedan chair, a grotesqueincident; but then, what to do with Tupman, also arrested? As both wouldnot fit in an ordinary sedan, the sedan was made to fit _them_, and thusit was done. "It was recollected that there stood in the Inn yard an oldsedan chair, which, having been originally built for a gouty gentlemanwith funded property, would hold Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman at least asconveniently as a modern postchaise. "

Nothing is more remarkable than the ingenious and striking fashion inwhich "_Boz_" has handled the episode of the double-bedded room and theyellow curl papers. The subject was an awkward one and required skilfulmanagement, or it might have repelled. The problem was how to make thesituation amusing and yet not too realistic? It will be seen that allthe _appearances_ of a most embarrassing situation are produced, and yetreally neither the lady nor Mr. Pickwick have taken off their garments. To produce this result, much elaborate machinery was requisite. The bedswere arranged as if on the stage, one on each side of the door with asort of little lane between the wall and each bed. Mr. Pickwick, we aretold, actually crept into this lane, got to the end where there was achair, and in this straight, confined situation proceeded to take off hiscoat and vest and to fold them up. It was thus artfully brought aboutthat he appeared to have gone to bed, and could look out from the dimitycurtains without having done so. It does not strike every one that Mr. Pickwick, under ordinary circumstances, would have taken off his "things"before the fire just as the lady did, in the free and open space, and nothuddled up in a dark corner. However, as Mr. Weller says: "It wos to be, and--it wos, " or we should have had no story and no laugh. 

There is a pleasant story--quite akin to Mr. Pickwick's adventure--ofwhat befell Thackeray when travelling in America. Going up to bed, hemistook the floor, and entered a room the very counterpart of his own. Hehad begun to take off his clothes, when a soft voice came fromwithin--"_Is that you_, _George_?" In a panic, he bundled up his things, like Mr. Pickwick, and hurriedly rushed out, thinking what would be theconfusion should he encounter "George" at the door. Anthony Trollope, myold, pleasant friend and sponsor at the Garrick Club, used to relateanother of these hotel misadventures which, he protested, was the most"side-splitting" thing ever he heard of. A gentleman who was staying atone of the monster Paris hotels with his lady, was seized with someviolent cold or pulmonary attack. She went down to try and get him amustard plaster, which, with much difficulty, she contrived. Returningin triumph, as Mr. Pickwick did with his recovered watch, she found thathe had fallen into a gentle sleep, and was lying with his head buried inthe pillows. With much softness and deftness, she quickly drew away thecoverings, and, without disturbing him, managed to insinuate the plasterinto its proper place. Having done her duty, she then proceeded to liedown, when the sleeping man, moving uneasily, awoke and showed his face. It was _not_ her husband! She fled from the room. The humour of thething--as described by Trollope--was the bewilderment of the man ondiscovering the damp and burning mass that had been applied to him, andthe amazing disappearance of his visitant. What did it all mean? Themystery probably remained unsolved to the day of his death. 

But the Great White Horse received an important cosmopolitan complimentfrom across the seas--at the Chicago Exhibition--when a large andcomplete model was prepared and set up in the building. This was anelaborate as well as important tribute to the Book which it was assumedthat every one knew by heart. 

V. --Ipswich Theatre

Boz, on his travels, with his strong theatrical taste, was sure to havegone to the little theatre in Tacket Street, now a Salvation Army meeting-house. It is the same building, though much altered and pulled about, asthat in which David Garrick made his first appearance on the stage, asMr. Lyddal, about 150 years ago. I have before me now a number ofIpswich play bills, dated in the year 1838, just after the conclusion of"Pickwick, " and which, most appropriately, seem to record little butBoz's own work. Pickwick, Oliver, Nickleby, and others, are the Bill ofFare, and it may be conceived that audiences would attend to see theirown Great White Horse, and the spinster lady in her curl papers, and Mr. Nupkins, the Mayor, brought on the boards. These old strips of tissuepaper have a strange interest; they reflect the old-fashioned theatre andaudiences; and the Pickwickian names of the characters, so close afterthe original appearance, have a greater reality. Here, for instance, isa programme for Mr. Gill's benefit, on January 19, 1839, when we had "ThePickwickians at half-price. " This was "a comic drama, in three acts, exhibiting the life and manners of the present day, entitled--

 "PICKWICK, or the sayings and doings of Sam Weller!" _Adapted expressly for this Theatre from the celebrated Pickwick Papers_, _by Boz_!

 "The present drama of Pickwick has been honoured by crowded houses, and greeted by shouts of laughter and reiterated peals of applause upon every representation, and has been acknowledged by the public Press to be the only successful adaptation. 

 The ILLUSTRATIONS designed and executed by popular PHIZ-ES. 

 The new music by Mr. Pindar. The quadrilles under the direction of Mr. Harrison. "

All the characters are given. 

"Mr. Pickwick, " founder of the Club, and travelling the counties of Essexand Suffolk in pursuit of knowledge. 

"Snodgrass, " a leetle bit of a poet. 

"Winkle, " a corresponding member also; and a something of a sportsman. 

"Job Trotter, " thin plant o' ooman natur; something between a servant anda friend to Jingle; a kind of perambulating hydraulic. 

"Joe, " a fat boy, addicted to cold pudding and snoring. 

"Miss Rachel Wardle, " in love with Jingle or anybody else that will haveher. 

"Emily" was appropriately represented in such a Theatre, by Miss Garrick. 

The scenes are laid at first at the Red Lion, Colchester, close by whichis Manor Farm, where a ball is given, and, of course, "the PickwickianQuadrilles!" are danced "as performed at the Nobility's Balls. " (I havethese quadrilles, with Mr. Pickwick, on the title. ) Then comes the WhiteHart, and "How they make sausages!" displayed in large type. The sceneis then shifted to the Angel, at Bury, and the double-bedded room withits "horrible dilemma, " and

"SCENE OF NIGHT CAPS!"

It will be noticed that there is nothing of the Great White Horse in thevery town. The reason was that the proprietor was disgusted by theunflattering account given of his Inn and must have objected. It windsup with the Fleet scenes, where Mr. Weller, senr. , "ARRESTS HIS OWN OFFSPRING. "

That this notion of the Great White Horse being sulky and hostile is thetrue one is patent from another bill, December 10, 1843, some four yearslater, when the proprietor allowed his Inn to be introduced. The piecewas called--

"BOOTS AT THE WHITE HORSE. "

"Now acting in London with extraordinary success. " This was, of course, our old friend "Boots at the Swan, " which Frank Robson, later, made hisown. As Boz had nothing to do with it, there could be no objection. Barnaby Rudge, however, was the piece of resistance. On anotheroccasion, January, 1840, came Mr. J. Russell, with his vocalentertainment, "Russell's Recollections" and "A Portrait from thePickwick Gallery. " "Have you seen him? Alphabetical Distinctions. Asample of MISTER SAM WELLER'S Descriptive Powers. "

Some adaptation or other of Dickens seems to have been always thestanding dish. The old Ipswich Theatre is certainly an interesting one, and Garrick and Boz are names to conjure with. 

VI. --Who was Pott?

There have been abundant speculations as to the originals of thePickwickian characters--some Utopian enough, but I do not think that anyhave been offered in the case of Mr. Pott, the redoubtable editor of the_Eatanswill Gazette_. I am inclined to believe that the notorious andbrilliant Dr. Maginn was intended. He and Pott were both distinguishedfor their "slogging" or bludgeoning articles, and both were High Tories, or "Blue, " as Mr. Pott had it. But what is most significant is that inthe very year Pickwick was coming out, to wit, 1836, Maginn had attractedgeneral attention and reprobation by the scandal of his duel withGrantley Berkely, arising out of a most scurrilous review of the latter'snovel. To this meeting he had been brought with some difficulty--just asPott--the "Pot-valiant, " declined to "serve him so, " _i. E. _, Slurk; beingrestrained by the laws of his country. He was an assistant editor to the"Standard, " and had furnished scurrilites to the "John Bull. " He hadabout this time also obtained an influence over the interesting "L. E. L. , " whom John Forster, it is known, was "courting, " and by some rumoursand machinations succeeded in breaking off the business. Now Forster andBoz, at the time, were bosom friends--Forster could be unsparing enoughwhere he was injured: and how natural that his new friend should sharehis enmities. Boz was always glad to gibbet a notorious public abuse, and here was an opportunity. Maginn's friend, Kenealey, wrote to anAmerican, who was about to edit Maginn's writings, "You have a gloriousopportunity, where you have no fear of libel before your eyes. _Maginn'sbest things can never be published till his victims have passed from thescene_. " How significant is this! Then Pott's "combining hisinformation, " his "cramming" critic, his using the lore of theEncyclopedia Britannica for his articles suggest Maginn's classicallucubrations. A well-known eminent _Litterateur_, to whom I suggestedthis view, objected that Pott is not shown to be such a blackguard asMaginn, and that Maginn was not such an ass as Pott. But Boz generalisedhis borrowed originals. Skimpole was taken from Leigh Hunt, yet wasrepresented as a sort of scoundrel; and Boz confessed that he onlyadapted his lighter manner and airy characteristics. 

In these latter days, people have been somewhat astonished by the strange"freak" of our leading journal in so persistently offering and pressingon the public their venture of a new edition of the Encyclopedia. Everyingenious variation of bold advertisement is used to tempt thepurchaser--a sovereign down and time for the rest; actual pictures of thewhole series of volumes; impassioned arguments, pleadings, and an appealto take it at the most wonderfully low price. Then we have desirableinformation, dealing with topics of varied kind, and assurances thatmaterial would here be found for dealing conveniently with every knownsubject. Still, what a surprise that use was not made of "the immortalPickwick" in whose pages these peculiar advantages were more successfullyand permanently set forth and illustrated by one most telling examplefurnished by no other than Mr. Pott himself, the redoubtable editor ofthe _Eatanswill Gazette_. To him and to no other is due the credit ofbeing the first to show practically _how to use_ the Encyclopedia. Hehas furnished a _principle_ which is worth all the lengthy exhortationsof the _Times_ itself. 

Pott seems to have kept the work in his office, and to have used it forhis articles in a highly ingenious fashion. For three months had he beensupplying a series of papers, which he assures us "appeared atintervals, " and which excited "such general--I may say, such universalattention and admiration. " A fine tribute surely to the Encyclopedia. For recollect Pott's was a newspaper. The _Times_ folk say nothing ofthis important view. Poor, simple Mr. Pickwick had not seen the articlesbecause he was busy travelling about and had no time for reading. (Probably Pott would have put him on the "free list" of his paper, butfor the awkward Winkle flirtation which broke up the intimacy). Nay, hemight have had "the revolving book case, " which would handily contain_all_ the volumes. 

And what were these articles? "They appeared in the form of a_copious_"--mark the word!--"review of a work on Chinese Metaphysics. " Ithad need to be copious therefor, for it is a very large subject. Mr. Pickwick himself must have been very familiar with the Encyclopedia, forhe at once objected that he was not aware that so abstruse a topic wasdealt with in its pages. He had perhaps consulted the book, say, atGarraway's Coffee House, for, alas! the good man was not able to have alibrary of his own, living, as he did, in lodgings or at the "George andVulture. " Mr. Pott, however, who also knew the work well, had then toconfess that there was no such subject treated separately in it. But thearticles were from the pen of his critic (not from his own), "who_crammed_ for it, to use a technical but expressive term; he read up forthe subject, at my desire, in the Encyclopedia. "

Now, as the subject was _not_ treated in the work, how could this"cramming" help him? Here comes in the system, so unaccountablyoverlooked by the _Times_, _i. E. _, the Combination Method. "He read, sir, " rejoined Pott, laying his hand on Mr. Pickwick's knee and lookinground with a smile of intellectual superiority, "he read for metaphysicsunder the letter _M_, and for China under the letter _C_, and _combinedhis information_, _sir_. " There we have it! We find separate articles_De omni scribili_, and many topics unavoidably passed over; but we seehow this can be cured by the ingenious Pott system. Combine yourinformation! There you are! Here for instance--under "Metaphysics" wedo find something about' Confucius and the other Pundits; we then turn toChina and get local colour, Chinese writers. &c. , and then proceed "tocombine our information. " And so with hundreds of other instances andother topics. Pott, therefore, has been overlooked by the managers ofthe _Times_, but it is not yet too late for them to call attention to hissystem. It is of interest to all at Eatanswill. 

Pott was in advance of his time. His paper was not wholly the sort ofscurrilous organ it has been shown to be. To weight its columns with"Chinese Metaphysics, " was a bold, reforming step--then the going on forthree months, _i. E. _, _twelve_ articles--and all read with avidity. Andwhat are we to think of the Eatanswill readers--surely in advance, too. And here we have him, nearly seventy years ago, giving a well-deservedpuff to the Encyclopedia, which is really worth the innumerable columnsthe leading journal has devoted to the book. Its last effort was to showan ingenious connection between the British Association and theEncyclopedia, on the ground of its various Presidents. "It stimulates, in fact creates, the necessity for a good working Library of Science. Itis here that the Encyclopedia comes in as of especial service. "

CHAPTER II. BATH

I. --The Old City

Bath, which already owed so much to famous writers, was destined to oweeven more to Boz, the genial author of "Pickwick"--a book which has somuch increased the gaiety of the nation. The scenes at the old city aremore minute and vivid than any yet offered. But, if it owe much to Boz, it repaid him by furnishing him with a name for his book which has goneover the world. Everything about this name will be interesting; and itis not generally known when and how Boz obtained it. 

There is a small hamlet some few miles from Bath and 97 from London--whichis 106 miles away from Bath--bearing the name of "Pickwick. " The Bathcoach, by the way, started from the White Horse Cellars, Piccadilly, athalf-past seven in the morning, and took just twelve hours for thejourney. Now it is made by the Great Western in two! Here, many yearsago, at the time of the story, was "Pickwick House, the seat of C. N. Loscombe, Esq. , " and also "Pickwick Lodge, " where dwelt Captain Fenton. Boz had never seen or heard of such places, but all the same theyindirectly furnished him with the name. A mail-coach guard found aninfant on the road in this place, and gave it the name of "Pickwick. " Theword "Pickwick" contains the common terminal "wick, " as in "Warwick, " andwhich means a village or hamlet of some kind. Pickwick, however, haslong since disappeared from the face of the map. Probably, after theyear 1837, folk did not relish dating their letters from a spot of suchhumorous memories. 

This Moses Pickwick was taken into the service of the coaching hotel, theWhite Hart, gradually devoted himself to the horse and coaching business, and, at the time of Boz's or Mr. Pickwick's visit, was the actualproprietor of the coaches on the road. "The name, " said Sam, "is notonly down on the vay-bill, sir, but they've painted vun on 'em on thedoor of the coach. " As Sam spoke he pointed to that part of the door onwhich the proprietor's name usually appears, and there, sure enough, ingilt letters of a goodly size, was the magic name of PICKWICK. "Dearme, " said Mr. Pickwick, quite staggered by the coincidence, "what a veryextraordinary thing!" "Yes; but that ain't all, " said Sam, againdirecting his master's attention to the coach-door. "Not content withwritin' up 'Pickwick, ' they put 'Moses' afore it, which I calls addinginsult to injury. " "It's odd enough, certainly, " said Mr. Pickwick. Whenhe was casting about for a good name for his venture, it recurred to himas having a quaint oddity and uncanniness. And thus it is that we owe toBath, and to Bath only, this celebrated name. It is said that he rushedinto the publisher's office, exultingly proclaiming his selection. 

Few cities have had their society and manners sketched by such eminentpens as Bath--Smollett, Miss Burney, Miss Austen, and Boz. The old wallsand houses are thus made to live. Boz has given one of the most vividand vivacious pictures of its expiring glories in the thirties, whenthere were still "M. C. S, " routs, assemblies, and sedans. His ownconnection with the place is a personal, and a very interesting one. Hewas there in 1835 on election business hurrying after Lord John Russell, all over the country, to report his speeches--a young fellow of three andtwenty, full of "dash, " "go, " and readiness of resource, of immenseenergy and carelessness of fatigue, ready to go anywhere and do anything. While thus engaged on serious business, he kept his eyes wide open, tookin all the humours of Bath, and noted them in his memory, though he madeno use of this till more than two years later, when he was well on into"Pickwick. "

The entering an old city by night always leaves a curious romanticimpression, and few old cities gain so much as Bath by this mode ofapproach. The shadowy houses have a monumental air; the fine streetswhich we mostly ascend show a mystery, especially as we flit by the opensquare, under the great, black Abbey, which seems a beetling rock. Thisold Bath mysteriousness seems haunted by the ghosts of Burney, Johnson, Goldsmith, Wilkes, Quin, Thrale, Mr. Pickwick, and dozens more. Fashionand gentilily hover round its stately homes. Nothing rouses such ideasof state and dignity as the Palladian Circus. There is a tone ofmournful grandeur about it--something forlorn. Had it, in some freak offashion, been abandoned, and suffered, for a time at least, to go toneglect and be somewhat overgrown with moss and foliage, it would passfor some grand Roman ruin. There is a solemn, greyish gloom about it;the grass in the enclosure is rank, long, and very green. PulteneyStreet, too: what a state and nobility there is about it! So wide and sospacious; the houses with an air of grand solidity, with no carvings orfrittering work, but relying on their fine lines and proportion. Tolodge there is an education, and the impression remains with one as of asense of personal dignity from dwelling in such large and lofty chambers, grandly laid out with noble stairs and the like. The builders in thisfine city would seem to have been born architects; nearly all the houseshave claims to distinction: each an expression and feeling of its own. The fine blackened or browned tint adds to the effect. The mouldings arefull of reserve and chastened, suited exactly to the material. There issomething, too, very stately about the octagon Laura Place, which openson to Pulteney Street. 

In this point of view Bath is a more interesting city than Edinburgh. Mr. Peach has written two most interesting little quartos on the "HistoricHouses of Bath;" and Mr. T. Sturge Cotterell has prepared a singularlyinteresting map of Bath, in which all the spots honoured by the residenceof famous visitors are marked down. It is very extraordinary the numberand distinction of these personages. 

I don't know anything more strange and agreeable than the feeling ofpromenading the Parades, North and South--a feeling compounded of awe, reverence, and exciting interest. The tranquil repose and dignity ofthese low, solid houses, the broad flagged Promenade, the unmistakableair of old fashion, the sort of reality and self-persuasion that theymight in a moment be re-peopled with all these eminent persons--much asBoz called up the ghosts of the old mail-coach passengers in his tellingghost story--the sombre grey of the walls, the brightness of the windows:these elements join to leave an extraordinary impression. The houses onthese Parades are charming from their solid proportions, adapted, as itwere, to the breadth of the Parade. Execrable, by the way, are themodern attempts seen side by side; feeble and incapable, not attemptingany expression at all. There is a row of meagre tenements beside theAbbey--attempts at pinnacled gables--which it is a sorrowful thing tolook on, so cheap and starved is it. Even the newer shops, in placeslike Milsom Street, with nothing to do but to copy what is before them, show the same _platitude_. Here and there you are constantly coming uponone of these beautifully designed old mansions piteously disguised, cutup in two or three it may be, or the lower portion fashioned into a shop. 

II. --The Pump Room and Assembly Rooms

No group of architectural objects is more effective or touches one morenearly than the buildings gathered about the Baths. There is somethingquaint and old-fashioned in the arrangement, and I am never tired ofcoming back to the pretty, open colonnade, the faded yet dignified Pump-room, with the ambitious hotel and the solemn Abbey rising solemnlybehind. Then there is the delightful Promenade opposite, under thearcades--a genuine bit of old fashion--under whose shadow the capriciousFanny Burney had often strolled. Everything about this latterconglomeration--the shape of the ground, the knowledge that themarvellous Roman baths are below, and even the older portion of themunicipal buildings whose elegant decorations, sculptured garlands, &c. , bespeak the influence of the graceful Adam, whose pupil or imitator Mr. Baldwin may have been. 

Boz's description of the tarnished Pump-room answers to what is seen now, save as to the tone of the decorations. I say "Boz's, " for Pickwick, itshould be recollected, was not actually acknowledged by the author, underhis proper name. It was thought that the well-known and popular "Boz" ofthe "Sketches" would attract far more than the obscure C. Dickens. NowBoz and the Sketches have receded and are little thought of. Boz andPickwick go far better together than do Pickwick and Dickens. There isan old-fashioned solemnity over this Pump-room which speaks of the oldclassical taste over a hundred years ago. How quaint and suitable theinscription, "[Greek text], " in faded gilt characters. Within it is onestately chamber, not altered a bit since the day, sixty-three years ago, that Boz strolled in and wrote this inscription: As I sat with a friendbeside me in the newly finished concert-room, which is in _happy_keeping, I called up the old genial Pickwick promenading about under thedirection of Bantam, M. C. , and the genial tone of the old gaiety and goodspirits. 

The "Tompion Clock, " which is carefully noted by Boz, seems to have beenalways regarded as a sort of monument. It is like an overgrown eight-dayclock, without any adornment and plain to a degree--no doubt relying uponits Tompion works. It is in exactly the same place as it was over sixtyyears ago, and goes with the old regularity. Nay, for that matter, itstands where it did a hundred years ago--in the old recess by Nash'sstatue and inscription, and was no doubt ordered at the opening of therooms. In an old account of Bath, at the opening of the century, attention is called to the Tompion clock with a sort of pride. The steepand shadowy Gay Street, which leads up to the inviting Crescent and themore sombre Queen's Square, affects one curiously. Then we come to theold Assembly Rooms close by the Circus, between Alfred Street and BennellStreet--a stately, dignified pile--in the good old classical style ofBath. One looks on it with a mysterious reverence: it seems charged withall sorts of memories of old, bygone state. For here all the rank andfashion of Bath used to make its way of Assembly nights. Many years ago, there was here given a morning concert to which I found my way, mainlyfor the purpose of calling up ghostly memories of the Thrales, and DoctorJohnson, and Miss Burney, and, above all, of Mr. Pickwick. Though themusic was the immortal "Passion" of Bach, my eyes were travelling all thewhile from one piece of faded _rococo_ work and decoration. Boz neverfails to secure the _tone_ of any strange place he is describing. Weall, for instance, have that pleased, elated feeling on the first morningafter our arrival over night at a new place--the general brightness, surprise, and air of novelty. We are willing to be pleased witheverything, and pass from object to object with enjoyment. Now all thisis difficult to seize or to describe. Boz does not do the latter, but heconveys it perfectly. We see the new arrivals seated at breakfast, andthe entrance of the Dowlers with the M. C. , and the party setting off tosee the "Lions, " the securing tickets for the Assembly, the writing downtheir names in "the book, " Sam sent specially up to Queen's Square, andso on. All which is very exhilarating, and reveals one's own feeling onsuch an occasion. The "Pump-room books" are formally mentioned in theregulations. We can see the interior of the Assembly Rooms in Phiz'splate, with its huge and elaborately framed oval mirrors andchandeliers--the dancing-room set round with raised benches. After thepattern of Ridotto rooms abroad, there were the card-rooms and tea-rooms, where Mr. Pickwick played whist with Miss Bolo. We note the sort of Adamor Chippendale chair on which the whist Dowager is sitting with her backto us. 

Considering that the rules of dress were so strict, pumps and silkstockings being of necessity, we may wonder how it was that the Presidentof the Pickwick Club was admitted in his morning dress, his kerseymeretights, white waistcoat, and black gaiters. It is clear that he neverchanged his dress for evening parties, save on one occasion. Mr. Pickwick's costume was certainly in defiance of all rules andregulations. It is _laid_ in the regulations of Mr. Tyson, M. C. , whodirected that "no gentleman in boots or half-boots be admitted into therooms on ball nights or card nights. " Half-boots might certainly coverMr. Pickwick's gaiters. So accurate is the picture that speculationarises whether Phiz went specially to Bath to make his sketches; for hehas caught in the most perfect way the whole _tone_ of a Bath Assembly, and he could not have obtained this from descriptions by others. So, too, with this picture of the Circus in Mr. Winkle's _escapade_. It willbe remembered that Boz was rather particular about this picture, andsuggested some minute alterations. Bantam, the M. C. , or "the GrandMaster" as Boz oddly calls him, was drawn from life from an eccentricfunctionary named Jervoise. I have never been quite able to understandhis odd hypothesis about Mr. Pickwick being "the gentleman who had thewaters bottled and sent to Clapham. " But how characteristic the dialogueon the occasion! It will be seen that this M. C. Cannot credit the notionof anyone of such importance as Mr. Pickwick "never having been in _Ba-ath_. " His ludicrous and absurd, "Not bad--not bad! Good--good. He, he, re-markable!" showed how it struck him. A man of such a position, too; it was incredible. With a delightful sense of this theory, hebegan: "It is long--_very long_, Mr. Pickwick, _since you drank thewaters_--it appears an age. " Mr. Pickwick protested that it wascertainly long since he had drunk the waters, and his proof was that hehad never been in Bath in his life. After a moment's reflection the M. C. Saw the solution. "Oh, I see; yes, yes; good, good; better and better. You are the gentleman residing on Clapham Green who lost the use of yourlimbs from imprudently taking cold _after port wine_, who could not bemoved in consequence of acute suffering, and who had the water from theKing's Bath bottled at 103 degrees and sent by waggon to his bed-room intown, where he bathed, sneezed, and same day recovered. " This amusingconcatenation is, besides, an admirable and very minute stroke ofcharacter, and the frivolous M. C. Is brought before us perfectly. Whilea capital touch is that when he saw young Mr. Mutanhead approaching. "Hush! draw a little nearer, Mr. Pickwick. You see that splendidlydressed young man coming this way--the richest young man in Bath!"

"You don't say so, " said Mr. Pickwick. 

"_Yes_, _you'll hear his voice in a moment_, _Mr. Pickwick_. _He'llspeak to me_. " _Particular_ awe and reverence could not be betterexpressed. 

It is curious how accurate the young fellow was in all his details. Hedescribes the ball as beginning at "precisely twenty minutes before eighto'clock;" and according to the old rules it had to begin as soon afterseven as possible. "Stay in the tea room and take your sixpennorths. "Mr. Dowler's advice was after a regulation "that everyone admitted to thetea-rooms on dress nights shall pay _6d. _ for tea. " The M. C. 's visit toMr. Pickwick was a real carrying out of the spirit of the regulations, inwhich it was requested that "all strangers will give the M. C. Anopportunity of being introduced to them before they themselves areentitled to that attention and respect. "

Nothing is more gratifying to the genuine Pickwickians than to find howall these old memories of the book are fondly cherished in the good city. All the Pickwickian localities are identified, and the inhabitants areeager in every way to maintain that Mr. Pickwick belongs to them, and hadbeen with them. We should have had his room in the White Hart pointedout, and "slept in" by Americans and others, had it still been left tostand. Not long since, the writer went down to the good old city for thepleasant duty of "preaching Pickwick, " as he had done in a good manyplaces. There is an antique building or temple not far from where an oldsociety of the place--the Bath Literary and Scientific Institute--holdsits meetings, and here, to a crowded gathering under the presidency ofMr. Austen King, the subject was gone into. It was delightful for thePickwickian stranger to meet so appreciative a response, and many curiousdetails were mentioned. At the close--such is the force of thedelusion--we were all discussing Mr. Pickwick and his movements here andthere, with the same _conviction_ as we would have had in the case ofMiss Burney, or Mrs. Thrale or Dr. Johnson. The whole atmosphere wascongenial, and there was an old-world, old-fashioned air over the rooms. It was delightful to be talking of Mr. Pickwick's Bath adventures inBath. 

Nor was there anything unreasonably fantastical in making suchspeculations all but realities. Bantam lived, as we know, in St. James'sSquare--that very effective enclosure, with its solemn house and richdeep greenery, that recall our own Fitzroy. No. 14 was his house, andthis, it was ascertained, was the actual residence of the living M. C. Howbold, therefore, of Boz to send up Sam to the very Square! Everyone, too, knew Mrs. Craddock's house in the Circus--at least it was one oftwo. It was No. 15 or 16, because at the time there were only a couplein the middle which were let in lodgings, the rest being private houses. This was fairly reasonable. But how accurate was Boz! No doubt he hadsome friends who were quartered in lodgings there. 

I scarcely hoped to find the scene of the footmen's "swarry" tracked out, but so it was. On leaving Queen Square in company with Mr. Smauker torepair to the scene of the festivity, Sam and his friend set off walking"towards High Street, " then "turned down a bye-street, " and would "soonbe there. " This bye-street was one turning out of Queen Square at thecorner next Bantam's house; and a few doors down we find a rather shabby-looking "public" with a swinging sign, on which is inscribed "TheBeaufort Arms"--a two-storied, three-windowed house. This, in the book, is called a "greengrocer's shop, " and is firmly believed to be the sceneof "the Swarry" on the substantial ground that the Bath footmen used toassemble here regularly as at their club. The change from a public to agreengrocer's scarcely affects the point. The uniforms of thesegentlemen's gentlemen were really splendid, as we learn from thetext--rich plushes, velvets, gold lace, canes, &c. There is noexaggeration in this, for natives of Bath have assured me they can recallsimilar displays at the fashionable church--of Sundays--when these noblecreatures, arrayed gorgeously as "generals, " were ranged in lines outside"waiting their missuses, " _pace_ Mr. John Smauker. At the greengrocer's, where the Bath footmen had their "swarry, " the favourite drink was "coldsrub and water, " or "gin and water sweet;" also "S'rub punch, " a WestIndian, drink, has now altogether disappeared. It sounds strange tolearn that a fashionable footman should consult "a copper timepiece whichdwelt at the bottom of a deep watch-pocket, and was raised to the surfaceby means of a black string with a copper key. " A _copper_ watch seemsextraordinary, though we have now those of gun metal. 

The Royal Crescent, with its fine air and fine view, always strikes onewith admiration as a unique and original monument: the size andproportions are so truly grand. The whole scene of Mr. Winkle's escapadehere is extraordinarily vivid, and so protracted, while Mrs. Dowler waswaiting in her sedan for the door to be opened, that it has the effect ofimprinting the very air, look, and tone of the Royal Cresent on us. Weseem to be waiting with her and the chair-man. It seems the most_natural_ thing in the world. The houses correspond almost exactly withPhiz's drawing. 

Pickwick, it has been often pointed out, is full of amusing "oversights, "which are pardonable enough, and almost add to the "fun" of the piece. Atthe opening, Mr. Pickwick is described as carrying his portmanteau--inthe picture it is a carpet-bag. The story opens in 1827, but at once Mr. Jingle begins to talk of being present at the late Revolution of 1830. The "George and Vulture" is placed in two different streets. Old Welleris called Samuel. During the scene at the Royal Crescent we are toldthat Mrs. Craddock threw up the drawing-room window "just as Mr. Winklewas rushing into the chair. " She ran and called Mr. Dowler, who rushedin just as Mr. Pickwick threw up the other window, "when the first objectthat met the gaze of both was Mr. Winkle bolting into the sedan chair"into which he had bolted a minute before. The late Charles Dickens theyounger, in the notes to his father's writings, affects to havediscovered an oversight in the account of the scene in the Circus. It isdescribed how he "took to his heels and tore _round_ the Crescent, hotlypursued by Dowler and the coachman. He kept ahead; the door was open ashe came _round_ the second time, &c. " Now, objects the son, the Cresentis only a half circle; there is no going round it, you must turn backwhen you come to the end. Boz must have been thinking of the Circus. Hardly--for he knew both well--and Circus and Crescent are things not tobe confused. The phrase was a little loose, but, as the Circus wascurved "round, " is not inappropriate, and he meant that Winkle turnedwhen he got to the end, and ran back. 

It must have been an awkward thing for Winkle to present himself oncemore at Mrs. Craddock's in the Crescent. How was the incident to beexplained save either at his own expense or at that of Mr. Dowler? IfDowler were supposed to have gone in pursuit of him, then Mr. Winkle musthave fled, and if he were supposed to have gone to seek a friend, thenDowler was rather compromised. No doubt both gentlemen agreed to supportthe one story that they had gone away for mutual satisfaction, and hadmade it up. 

Then, we are told, if it were theatre night perhaps the visitors met atthe theatre. Did Mr. Pickwick ever go? This is an open question. Isthe chronicler here a little obscure, as he is speaking of "thegentlemen" _en bloc_? Perhaps he did, perhaps he did'nt, as Boz mightsay. On his visit to Rochester, it does not appear that he went to seehis "picked-up" friend, Jingle, perform. The Bath Theatre is in the SawClose, next door to Beau Nash's picturesque old house. The old greyfront, with its blackened mouldings and sunk windows, is still there; buta deep vestibule, or entrance, with offices has been built out in front, which, as it were, thrusts the old wall back--an uncongenial mixture. Within, the house has been reconstructed, as it is called, so that Mr. Palmer or Dimond, or any of the old Bath lights, to say nothing of Mr. And Mrs. Siddons, would not recognise it. Attending it one night, Icould not but recall the old Bath stories, when this modest little housesupplied the London houses regularly with the best talent, and "From theTheatre Royal, Bath, " was an inducement set forth on the bill. 

III. --Boz and Bath

After his brilliant, genial view of the old watering-place, it is asurprise to find Boz speaking of it with a certain acerbity and evendisgust. Over thirty years later, in 1869, he was there, and wrote toForster: "The place looks to me like a cemetery which the dead havesucceeded in rising and taking. Having built streets of their oldgravestones, they wander about scantly, trying to look alive--a deadfailure. " And yet, what ghostly recollections must have come back on himas he walked those streets, or as he passed by into Walcot, the Saracen'sHead, where he had put up in those old days, full of brightness, ardour, and enthusiasm; but not yet the famous Boz! Bath folk set down thisjaundiced view of their town to a sort of pique at the comparativefailure of the Guild dramatic performance at the Old Assembly Rooms, where, owing to the faulty arrangement of the stage, hardly a word couldbe heard, to the dissatisfaction of the audience. The stage, it seems, was put too far behind the proscenium, "owing to the headstrongperversity of Dickens, who never forgave the Bath people. " CharlesKnight, it was said, remonstrated, but in vain. Boz, however, was not aman to indulge in such feelings. In "Bleak House" he calls it "dreary. "

There had been, however, a previous visit to Bath, in company withMaclise and Forster, to see Landor, who was then living at No. 35 St. James's Square--a house become memorable because it was there that theimage of his "Little Nell" first suggested itself. The enthusiasticLandor used, in his "tumultuous" fashion, to proclaim that he would setfire to the house and burn it to the ground to prevent its being profanedby less sacred associations. He had done things even more extravagantthan this, and would take boisterous roars of laughter as his oddcompliment was discussed. 

The minuteness of his record of the gaieties shows how amused andinterested Boz was in all that he saw. Nothing escaped him of theroutine, day, hour, and place; all is given, even the different rooms atthe Assembly House. "In the ball-room, the long card-room, the octagoncard-room, the staircases, the passages, the hum of many voices and thesound of many feet were perfectly bewildering; dresses rustled, featherswaved, lights shone, and jewels sparkled. There was the music, not ofthe quadrille band, for it had not yet commenced, " &c. Here Bantam, M. C. , arrived at precisely twenty minutes before eight, "to receive thecompany. " And such company! "Brilliant eyes, lighted up withpleasurable expectation, gleamed from every side, and, look where youwould, some exquisite form glided gracefully through the throng, and wasno sooner lost than it was replaced by another as dainty and bewitching";the warmth of which description showing how delighted was the young manwith all he saw. But how did he secure admission? For it was a highlyfashionable company; there were vouchers and tickets to be secured. Butthese were slight difficulties for our brilliant "pushful" young man. Hecould make his way, and his mission found him interest. He certainly sawas much of Bath as anyone could in the time. Yet, gay and sprightly aswas his account of Bath, there may have been a reason why Boz may havenot recalled the place with pleasurable feelings. It will be recollectedthat, after giving a few lines to the account of Mr. Pickwick and friendsbeing set down at the White Hart, he carries them off at once to lodgingsin the Crescent. That first-class hotel was, alas! not open to the poor, over-worked reporter; and he could tell of nothing that went on withinits portals. Hotel life on a handsome scale was not for _him_, and hewas obliged to put up at far humbler quarters, a sort of common inn. 

There is nothing more quaint or interesting than this genuine antique--theSaracen's Head in Walcot. It may pair off with the old White Horse inCanongate, where "Great Sam" put up for a night. It is surely the mosteffective of all the old inns one could see. It has two faces, and looksinto two different streets, with its double gables, and date (1713)inscribed on a tablet outside. It is a yellow, well-worn littlebuilding. And you enter through darkened tunnels, as it were, cutthrough the house, coming into a strange yard of evident antiquity, witha steep, ladder-like flight of stone steps that leads up to a window muchlike the old Canongate houses. Here, then, it was that Boz put up, andhere are preserved traditions and relics of his stay. One of the talesis that, after some exuberant night _in the election time_, he would gethis candle and, having to cross the court, would have it blown out half adozen times, when he would go back patiently to relight it. They showhis chair, and a jug out of which he drank, but one has not much faith inthese chairs and jugs; they always seem to be supplied to demand, andmust be found to gratify the pilgrims. 

One of the examination queries which might have found a place in Mr. Calverley's paper of questions is this: "When did Mr. Pickwick sit down_to make entries in his journal_, and spend half an hour in so doing?" AtBath on the night of Mr. Winkle's race round the Crescent. What was thisjournal? Or why did he keep it? Or why are so few allusions made to it?Mr. Snodgrass was the appointed historiographer of the party, and his"notes" are often spoken of and appealed to as the basis of thechronicle. But half an hour, as I say, was the time the great man seemsto have allotted to his posting up the day's register: "Mr. Pickwick shutup the book, wiped his pen _on the bottom of the inside of hiscoat-tail_, and opened the drawer of the inkstand to put it carefullyaway. " How particular--how real all this is! This it is that gives the_living_ force to the book, and a persuasion--irresistible almost--thatit is all about _some living person_. I have often wondered how it isthat this book of Boz's has such an astounding power of development, sucha fertility in engendering other books, and what is the secret of it. Scott's astonishing Waverley series, Thackeray's "Vanity Fair, " Boz's own"Nicholas Nickleby, " "Oliver Twist, " in fact, not one of the whole seriessave "the immortal 'Pickwick'" has produced anything in the way of booksor commentaries. I believe it is really owing to this. Boz was a greatadmirer of Boswell's equally immortal book. I have heard him speak ofit. He attempted parodies of it even. He knew all the turns, theJohnsonian twists, "Why, sirs, " &c. , and used them in his letters. Hewas permeated with the Johnsonian ether; that detail, that description oftrifling things which was in Boswell, attracted him, and he felt it; andthe fact remains that Pickwick is written on _the principles_--no copy--ofthe great biography, and that Boz applied to a mere fictional story whatwas related in the account of a living man. And it is really curiousthat Boswell's "Life of Johnson" should be the only other book thattempts people to the same rage for commentary, illustrations, andspeculations. These are of exactly the same character in both books. 

The MS. That Mr. Pickwick so oddly found in the drawer of his inkstand atMrs. Craddock's, Royal Crescent, Bath, offered another instance of Boz'singenious methods of introducing episodical tales into his narrative. Hewas often hard put to it to find an occasion: they were highly useful tofill a space when he was pressed for matter. He had the strongest_penchant_ for this sort of thing, and it clung to him through his life. Those in "Pickwick" are exceedingly good, full of spirit and "go, " saveone, the "Martha Lobbs" story, which is a poorish thing. So good are theothers, they have been taken out and published separately. They were nodoubt written for magazines, and were lying by him, but his Bathstory--"The True Legend of Prince Bladud"--was written specially. It isquite in the vein of Elia's Roast Pig story, and very gaily told. He hadprobably been reading some local guide-book, with the mythical account ofPrince Bladud, and this suggested to him his own humorous version. Atthe close, he sets Mr. Pickwick a-yawning several times, who, when he hadarrived at the end of this little manuscript--which certainly could nothave been compressed into "a couple of sheets of writing-paper, " butwould have covered at least ten pages--replaced it in the drawer, and"then, with a _countenance of the utmost weariness_, lighted his chambercandle and went upstairs to bed. " And here, by the way, is one of theamusing oversights which give such a piquancy to "Pickwick. " Before hebegan to read his paper, we are carefully told that Mr. Pickwick"unfolded it, lighted his bedroom candle that it might burn up to thetime he had finished. " It was Mr. C. Kent who pointed this out to him, when Boz seized the volume and humorously made as though he would hurl itat his friend. 

Anyone interested in Bath must of necessity be interested in Bristol, towhich, as all know, Mr. Winkle fled after the unhappy business in theCircus. He found a coach at the Royal Hotel--which no longer exists--avehicle which, we are told, went the whole distance "twice a day andmore" with a single pair of horses. There he put up at the Bush, whereMr. Pickwick was to follow him presently. The Bush--a genuine Pickwickinn--where Mr. Pickwick first heard the news of the action that was to bebrought against him, stood in Corn Street, near to the Guildhall, themost busy street in Bristol; but it was taken down in 1864, and thepresent Wiltshire Bank erected on the site. Mr. Pickwick broke off hisstay at Bath somewhat too abruptly; he left it and all its festivities onthis sudden chase after Winkle. But he may have had a reason. Nothingis more wonderful than Boz's propriety in dealing with his incidents, apropriety that is really instinctive. Everything falls out in thecorrect, natural way. For instance, Mr. Pickwick having received such ashock at the Bush--the announcement of the Bardell action--was scarcelyin heart to resume his jollity and gaieties at Bath. We might naturallyexpect a resumption of the frolics there. He accordingly returned there;but we are told curtly, "The remainder of the period which Mr. Pickwickhad assigned as the duration of his stay at Bath passed over without anoccurrence of anything material. Trinity term commenced on theexpiration of the first week. Mr. Pickwick and his friends returned toLondon; and the former gentleman, attended of course by Sam, straightwayrepaired to his old quarters at the George and Vulture. "

And now in these simple sentences have we not the secret of the greatattraction of the book? Who would not suppose that this was a passagefrom a biography of some one that had lived? How carefully _minute_ andyet how naturally the time is accounted for--"passed over without theoccurrence of anything material. " It is impossible to resist this air of_vraisemblance_. 

CHAPTER III. OLD ROCHESTER

I. --Jingle and the Theatre

The little Theatre here must be interesting to us from the fact ofJingle's having been engaged to play there with the officers of the 52ndRegiment on the night of May 15th, 1827. Jingle was described as "astrolling actor, " and belonged to the "Kent circuit, " that is, to thetowns of Canterbury, Rochester, Maidstone, &c. To this circuit alsobelonged "Dismal Jemmy, " who was "no actor, " yet did the "heavybusiness. " It does not appear that he, also, was engaged for theofficers' performance. We often wonder whether Jingle _did_ perform onthe night in question; or did Dr. Payne and Lieutenant Tappleton tell thestory of his behaviour to their brethren: of his passing himself off as agentleman, his wearing another gentleman's clothes, and his insults toDr. Slammer. Tappleton scornfully recommended Mr. Pickwick to be morenice in the selection of his companions. No doubt Jingle was suggestedto the officers by the manager: "knew a really smart chap who will justdo for the part. " On the whole, I think they must have had his services, as it was too late to get a substitute. Jingle, as we know, was playedsuccessfully by Sir Henry Irving in the early 'seventies, _tempore_Bateman. His extraordinary likeness to the Phiz portrait struck everyone, and it was marked, not only in face, but in figure, manner, &c. Theadaptation of "Pickwick, " however, was very roughly done by the lateJames Albery, who merely _tacked_ together the Jingle scenes. Those, where there is much genial comedy, such as the Ball scene at Rochester, were left out. It is likely that the boy, Boz, noticed Dismal Jemmyamong the strollers, and possibly may have seen a Jingle himself. Butthe characters of Jingle and his confederate, Job, were certainlysuggested by Robert Macaire and Jacques Strop, which, a little before theappearance of Pickwick, were being played in London--in "_L'Auberge desAdrets_. "

Mr. Pickwick had discovered in the morning that Jingle was "connectedwith the Theatre in that place, _though he is not desirous to have itgenerally known_. "

Now considering generally the different "games" he was pursuing, hispassing himself off as an officer, an amateur of cricket, &c. , it was notaltogether desirable to have his profession known. Knowing also that Mr. Pickwick intended staying at Rochester, and that the gay Tupman orSnodgrass would find out his engagement and witness his performance, helikely enough confided his secret to Mr. Pickwick. "Dismal Jemmy, " theodd being who appears at Rochester for a short time, had promised Mr. Pickwick a tale which he never gave him. At the end of the story, _Boz_, having forgotten the engagement, is driven to supply a far-fetchedreason. He was Job's brother, and went to America "in consequence ofbeing too much sought after here. " It will be recollected he was of adepressed and gloomy cast, and on the Bridge at Rochester talked ofsuicide. He also told the dismal "stroller's tale. " Now, it is plainthat Boz drew him as a genuine character, and his behaviour to thestroller was of a charitable kind. Boz, in fact, meant him to be asuitable person to relate so dismal an incident. However, all this wasforgotten or put aside at the end, and having become Job's brother, hehad to be in keeping. The reformed Jingle declared he was "merelyacting--clever rascal--hoaxing fellow. " His brother Job added that hehimself was the serious one, "while Jemmy never was. " Mr. Pickwick thenpresumed that his talk of suicide was all flam, and that his dismals wereall assumed. "He could assume anything, " said Job. Boz, too, forgotthat his name was James Hutley, whereas the brothers' was Trotter--thoughthis may have been an assumed one. 

The condition of the Rochester stage must have been rather low, when wefind two such persons as Jingle and Dismal Jemmy members of the corps. Jingle's jerky system of elocution would seem a completedisqualification. From sheer habit, it would have been impossible forhim to say his lines in any other fashion--which in all the round oflight "touch and go" comedy, would have been a drawback. 

The little Theatre is at the farther end of the town, where the roadturns off to the fields, a low, unpretending building with a smallportico. I recall it in the old days, on a walk from Gads Hill, when Ipaused to examine the bills of the benefit of a certain theatrical familyof the Crummles sort--father, mother, sons, and daughters, who suppliedeverything. The head founded his claims to support on being a fellowtownsman, winding up with Goldsmith's lines:

 And as the hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, Pants to the spot from whence at first it flew; I still had hopes, my lengthened wanderings past, Here to return, and die at home at last. 

Boz was hugely amused when I rehearsed this to him at lunch. 

He himself, on his later visit, noted the strange encroachments that werebeing made on the Theatre. A wine merchant had begun on the cellars, andwas gradually squeezing himself into the box-office, and would no doubtgo on till he secured the auditorium, the lobbies, etc. When I lastpassed by that way, it had become the Conservative Club, or some suchinstitution. 

The wonderful picture, given in "Nickleby, " of the Portsmouth playhouse, with all its characters and accessories and inner life, shows the mostintimate familiarity with all the ways and fashions of the old ProvincialTheatre. Every touch--Crummles, Folair, Lenville, Snivelicci--provesclearly that he knew perfectly the life behind the scenes, and that hewrote of it _con amore_. There was a firm belief at the Theatre Royal, Portsmouth, that all the performers in "Nickleby" were personal sketchesof this corps. One actor told my friend, Mr. Walter Pollock, that theycould even identify Folair, Lenville & Co. , and that there was a playbillstill extant in which either the names or the pieces corresponded. Butin this theory, however, little faith can be placed; for at the time thefamily was at Portsmouth, Dickens was but a child not more than ten ortwelve years old, and not likely, therefore, to be taken behind thescenes, or to pick up or observe much. It is certain that the wholedescription of the Theatre and its company, with the minute and intimatedetails of stage life, was drawn from this little house at Rochester. Butwe can go beyond mere speculation. 

In one of his retrospections, Boz tells us of a visit he paid toRochester in the fifties, "scenes among which my _early days_ were past. "The town he calls Dullborough, which is a little hard on the place. Hewent to look at the old theatre, and reveals to us how it brought back tohim a number of reminiscences, which shows that he was much associatedwith stage matters when a youth, for he describes Richard III. AndMacbeth all "cast" and mounted exactly as Mr. Crummles would have mountedthem. "There was Richard in a very uncomfortable wig, and sleeping inwar time on a sofa that was much too short for him, and his consciencefearfully troubled his boots. " There was the lovely young woman, "whowent out gleaning, in a narrow, white muslin apron, with five beautifulbars of five different colours across it. The witches bore an awfulresemblance to the Thanes and other inhabitants of Scotland; while thegood King Duncan couldn't rest in his grave, but was constantly comingout of it and calling himself somebody else. " These are all Crummlestouches, only he refrained from going again over the old ground. But onepoint further favours the theory--he recalls his alarm when Richard inhis terrific combat was "backing up against the stage box. " He was inthe stage box then, and therefore a privileged person at the theatre. Hisuncle, "Dr. Slammer, " no doubt was thus complimented as being "in HerMajesty's service. " "Of course, " he goes on, "the town had shrunkfearfully since I was a child there. "

The description of the outlaw drama which Nicholas Nickleby saw on thenight of his arrival is exactly in the key of the account of theperformance of "Richard III. " just given: also the account of the Londonmanager, who was in the boxes; still more so when Mr. Crummles and allthe company _died at him_. And as in Nickleby we have "the ComicCountryman" who so inopportunely caught a bluebottle when Mrs. Crummleswas making her great point for the London Manager: so in the account ofDullborough we are told of "the _Funny_ Countryman" who sustained thecomic, bucolic parts. This alone would show that the Rochester andPortsmouth Theatres were the same, while the beautiful young lady in thewhite apron performed the same sort of characters that Miss Bravassa, orMiss Snivelicci did. 

And in this connection may be supplied a further speculation which isinteresting. In _Boz's_ earlier works it is plain that he relies for hismost striking effects of character on his own recollections and personalobservations. They might be considered passages from his autobiography. I have thought that much in "Nickleby" of Nicholas's career andNicholas's own character was drawn from himself. Nicholas suggests Bozin appearance, in his spirit and vehemence, and in some of hisadventures. Some years ago a remarkable letter appeared in the papers, in which Dickens, then a mere youth, made an application to one of themanagers, Mr. Webster I think, for a situation in his theatre. He wantedto go on the stage. Was not this like Nicholas? This desire was surelyfounded on intimate acquaintance with the boards and amateur experience. 

"I had entertained the impression, " he goes on, "that the High Street wasas wide as Regent Street--I found it little better than a lane. Therewas a public clock in it which I had supposed to be the finest clock inthe world, whereas it now turned out to be _as inexpressive_, _moon-facedand weak_ a clock as ever I saw. " The Town Hall was a "mean little brickheap, like a demented chapel. "

II. --The Bull

Jingle, it will be recollected, on the party arriving at the Bull, gavethat Inn the highest praise, recommending them to stay there--"_goodhouse_--_nice beds_--" a testimonial that used to be displayed in goldletters at the door, but which, I have seen it stated, has been removed. I have also read the same testimonial in the guides and advertisements. Jingle warned them against another Inn hard by, --"Wright's--nexthouse--_dear_--_very dear_--half-a-crown if you look at the waiter, making a charge for dinner, all the same, if you dined out"; a practice, however, not altogether unknown to modern Hotels. It was bold in Boz, thus to publicly disparage Hotels that he did not approve. "Wright's"could not have relished so public an allusion. What or where wasWright's--"next house?" There is now--in the same High Street--"TheKing's Head, " described as "Family and Commercial, one of theoldest-established in the Kingdom, close to the Cathedral and Castle--homecomforts. " This being its position--the Castle on one side, theCathedral on the other--situated exactly as the Bull was--and therefore"next house, " accurately described its position. Being "one of theoldest-established, " it must have been there at the time of thePickwickian visit. 

At the Bull, they show you "Mr. Pickwick's room"--as well as Tupman's andWinkle's--Boz's very particular description enables this to be done. Mr. Pickwick's was, of course, to the front--when, roused by the Boots, hegave the direction of his followers' bed-room, "next room but two on theright hand. " Winkle's room was inside Tupman's--so we are shown a roomin the front with another inside of it--and the _third_ on the left will, of course, be Mr. Pickwick's, Q. E. D. The waiters know all these points, and prove them to the bewildered visitors. "You see, sir, there is thevery room _where the clothes were stolen_. "

III. --Jingle's Love Affairs

Jingle's elopement with the spinster aunt was ingeniously contrived, butit seemed rather speculative and rash--she might not have had a penny. His only ground for jumping to the conclusion that she _had_ a fortunewas that, on his saying that "Tupman only wants your money"; "Thewretch!" she exclaimed--"Mr. Jingle's doubts were resolved--she _had_money. " More wonderful, too, were the very easy terms on which he was"bought off"--a hundred and twenty pounds. Her fortune might beestimated at some thousands. He was really master of the situation. Thelady was of mature age--her own mistress, Wardle and his attorney coulddo nothing to stop the business. He certainly might have held out forfour or five hundred pounds. Perker's diplomacy was wretched, and hisplea about the age of the old lady mere burlesque. "You are right, mydear sir--she is rather old. The founder of the family came into Kentwhen Julius Caesar invaded Britain; only one member of it since whohasn't lived to eighty-five, and _he_ was beheaded by one of the Henrys. The old lady is not seventy-three now, my dear sir. " Which seems likebuffooning in a man of business. 

Jingle's course, after he left Rochester, can be traced very readily. With plenty of money in his pocket, he found his way to Ipswich (orEatanswill), assuming the name of Captain FitzMarshall, and taking withhim, as his confederate, Job Hutley. There he got introduced to Nupkins, the Mayor, who presided at the election, and who had made his money in"the nail and sarsepan business"--that is, as an ironmonger. The fewwords this functionary uttered on the hustings are of the same pompouscharacter as his later magisterial deliverances. 

"'Whiffin, _proclaim_ silence, ' said the Mayor, with air of _pomp_, &c. , where this superciliousness is emphasised. 'Gentlemen, ' he went on, 'brother electors of the Borough of Eatanswill, we are met here to-dayfor the purpose of choosing a representative in the room of our late'--butthe noise and interruptions prevented the rest of the speech being heard. Notwithstanding, he characteristically 'thanked the meeting for thepatient attention with which they had heard him throughout, ' adeclaration that excited roars of laughter, lasting for a quarter of anhour. "

This is exactly what one might expect from the self-sufficient Nupkins, who was evidently understood and laughed at by his fellow townsmen. Later, when the confusion and "row" grew fast and furious, our Mayor"issued imperative orders to twelve constables to seize the ringleaders, who might amount in number to two hundred and fifty or thereabouts. " Wecan recall Nupkins' dealing with the schoolboys in exactly the samesapient spirit. 

Into the family of this worthy Jingle insinuated himself. But would henot be recognised by Mr. Pickwick and his friends? Yes; but we find thathe took up his quarters at Bury St. Edmunds, conveniently near, and, assuming that the Pickwickians had departed after the election, thoughthe might safely exhibit himself at Mrs. Leo Hunter's party, whence he wastracked back to Bury by Mr. Pickwick. It is certainly fresh evidence ofthe identity of Eatanswill with Ipswich that Jingle should have appearedin both places as "Captain FitzMarshall. " Once established in theMayor's family, the insinuating Jingle devoted himself to the capture ofthe haughty and ill-natured Henrietta Nupkins, making his way into hergood graces, and "cutting out" Sidney Porkenham, her old-establishedadmirer. This was Jingle's second attempt at matrimony which failed likethe first. It may be said, after all, that his behaviour was not soheinous. He was a fortune hunting adventurer--such was his role--whichwas common enough in those times. The unlucky Leo Hunter meeting, however, spoiled all. 

After the trick on Mr. Pickwick at the school, and which was a fairretort, the pair left Bury that very night. 

By an odd coincidence, they were taken up the next day by old Weller atChelmsford--a stage or two from London. He was driving the Ipswichcoach, and brought them to that town. It is clear, therefore, that theytook this round from Bury in dread of pursuit, and with a view to throwMr. Pickwick off the scent. The latter gentleman never dreamed that theywere so near him, dismissed the whole matter, and returned to town toarrange about his action. By a happy chance he met old Weller, and, within a few days, set off for Ipswich and unmasked Captain FitzMarshallin Nupkins' own house. After this failure, his course was downward, andwe next meet him in the Fleet. 

Job's story was that Jingle dragged him away in a post-chaise andpersuaded the girl at the boarding-school to tell Mr. Pickwick that sheknew nothing of the matter. He had also bribed the schoolmistress totell the same story. He had then deserted her for a better speculation, to wit, Miss Nupkins, to whom he had hurried back. 

But for Mr. Pickwick's unfortunate adventure at the "White Horse, " Jinglewould likely enough have captured Henrietta Nupkins. When Sam soopportunely met Job in the Inn yard at Ipswich, he, instead of punishinghim as he had so often threatened to do, merely bid him be at the Inn ateight o'clock. Why did he not bring him straight to Mr. Pickwick who wasupstairs? Instead, he went up himself, told his master it was "all intrainin', " and "detailed the plan of action. " Mr. Pickwick was curious, but Sam only said "all in good time. " We never learn what the plan ofaction was to be. Indeed, what could the pair do to Jingle?

IV. --The Garrison

The military recollections of Rochester and Chatham are amusinglyconfused, or rather, in defiance of all known regulations. Thus, at theBall, we find Colonel Bulder as "head of the garrison"--one would thinkat so important a quarter, where there was a large garrison, a General atleast would be in command. Then we may ask the question, why was not Dr. Slammer in uniform--always required in presence of a commander? It waswonderfully bold, too, on Boz's part to give the _numbers_ of theregiments. Hon. Wilmot Snipe of the 97th, who _was_ in full uniform, which Mr. Tupman took for "a fancy dress. " It was, of course, a Highlandone. We learn, too, that the other regiment was the 43rd, to which Dr. Payne belonged, and that the 52nd was getting up plays at the localtheatre. And why did Boz select these particular numbers?

The Chatham garrison consisted of "half-a-dozen regiments, " with which afair display at a Review could be made on "The Lines. " Temporaryfortifications had been erected, the citadel was to be attacked andtaken--Fort Pitt we may assume--and a mine was to be sprung. Servantswere keeping places for the ladies "on the Batteries"--an alarmingposition it would seem. The Sergeants were running "with vellum books"under their arms, usually left at home on Review-day. The Officers were"running backwards and forwards, " while Colonel Bulder was seen"gallopping" (with two p's) at large, "prancing and curvetting, " that is, making his steed curvet. The operations were, however, not under hiscommand, but directed by the "Commander-in-Chief, " not, of course, of theArmy, but, we may presume, the General of the district. His behaviourwas the most extraordinary of all, for, instead of cultivating a solemnreserve and quietude, and standing still, surrounded by his staff, he wasseen "backing his horse _among the people_, " and heard shouting "till hewas hoarse. " The soldiers wore the old, stiff leather stock, chokingthem, which was heard of so much in Crimean days. They were also arrayedin _white_ trowsers. Boz is here wonderfully accurate, for thesegarments were always worn after May came round, and this was May. 

The catastrophe to the Pickwickians from their having got between the twolines of soldiers, is somewhat perplexing. One line was advancing to theattack, the other firmly awaiting it. They were shouted at to get out ofthe way. Suddenly the half-dozen regiments had overthrown them. Mr. Pickwick was upset. Winkle received a bloody nose, after performing acompulsory _somerset_; then, at the same moment--wonder of wonders--wewere told that the regiments were "half-a-thousand yards off, "--that isabout a third of a mile away--all in a second! It is hard to understandwhy they were so maltreated. The soldiers would, of course, never havemet; and in our own time the amenities of a Review and the police wouldhave secured stray civilians from such rough treatment. We do not knowwhether the evolutions described were accurate--such as "one rank firingover the heads of another and then running away. "

It was to this exciting spectacle that old Wardle brought a party in thatwonderful Barouche of his--which is really phenomenal for itsaccommodation. When Mr. Pickwick recovered his hat, he found thesepersons in the carriage:--1, Wardle; 2, a daughter; 3, a second ditto; 4, a sister; 5, Trundle; 6, Tupman; 7, Fat Boy, on the box. ThePickwickians were actually summoned by the hearty Wardle to join. "Room_for you all_--two inside and one on the ox, " where there was onealready. All accepted the invitation, making _ten_ persons in all whowere accommodated in the Barouche! But this does not exhaust itswonders. When lunch time came round, with plates, dishes, bottles, eightpersons were squeezed together inside, so no wonder Wardle said, "We mustsit close. " How it was done is not to be conceived--two sitting togetheris the usual allowance for a modern Barouche, but four on one side!--andyet we are told, when the horses were put to, the Barouche "rattled off. "

The boy Dickens had carefully noted the behaviour of the garrison, anddescribed them as "staggering about the streets of Chatham dead drunk, "more especially when we remember that the "following them about, andjoking with them, affords _a cheap and innocent amusement for the boypopulation_--" (_vide Mr. Pickwick's notes_). The boy, no doubt, oftenwitnessed the incident of the private, "drawing his bayonet, and stabbingthe barmaid who had refused to draw him more liquor. " It ischaracteristic, by the way, of the police in a garrison town, for thisfellow appears to have been at large on the next day, as he went down tothe Tavern and tried to "square it" with the girl. 

And now, is not this a testimony to this strange book, that we should bethus introduced to old Rochester and its doings, and out of the scantmaterials furnished, can really reconstruct the time and the place, andfind out, as if by enquiries, all about Jingle and his connections andthe theatre--such is the fruitfulness of the text?

CHAPTER IV. BOZ AND BLACKING. 

One of the remarkable things associated with "Pickwick" is itsautobiographical character, as it might be termed, and the amount of theauthor's personal experience which is found in passages. Such are hissketches of Rochester and Chatham life during his boyhood, hisrecollections of Grimaldi's dissolute son, his own poignant sorrow on thedeath of Mary Hogarth, and the painful memories of his boyishapprenticeship to an uncongenial trade more than hinted at. The electionmatters were also particular memories of his own, so was the scene of theghostly mail coaches. Then there was the hideous recollection of thelife in a debtors' prison, of which he had such sad personal experience, with much more. He recalled the time when he had a miserable lodging inLant Street, Borough, and Lant Street was for him always a fixed point inhis memory, and grew in size and importance. And when he described somewretched creature hiding himself in London purlieus, he chose somemiserable place like College-street in Camden Town, whither his ownfamily had retired. 

All these things supply a singular vitality and realism, and also adistinct interest for those who are "in the know, " for Boz himself at thetime was a dramatic and interesting figure, and this story of hisstruggle out of a state of squalid misery is truly pathetic. 

Readers of Forster's interesting "Life" will recall the dismal passage inthe account given by Dickens to his friend, and his agonising experiencewhen he was employed at the blacking factory. Many at the time thoughtthat this painful episode might have been spared the reader, but theuncompromising biographer would not sacrifice it. On the whole, he wasright, as the trial had an important influence on the writer's character. It will be recollected that he was employed at a place set up in ChandosStreet, just out of the Strand, by one of the firm of Warrens, and hisduties seemed to consist in pasting the labels on the bottles. Many willstill recall the keen rivalry that existed between the famous firms, Warren and Day and Martin, which brought much amusement to the publicfrom the arts of "bold advertisement" with which the war was waged. Therewere ingenious "Crambos, " such as a cat gazing with well-assumed surpriseat her face reflected in one of Day and Martin's well-polished shoes. These things made a deep impression on the boy, who saw their grotesqueside. They were oddly bound up with his early impressions and sorrows. 

Hence, we find in the course of "Pickwick, " a few allusions to theseblacking rivals and their ways, which might seem mysterious and uncalledfor to those not in the secret, but which for himself had the highestsignificance. When Sam is first introduced at the "White Hart, " he is inthe very act of cleaning boots, and we have almost an essay on thevarious species of boots and polishing. We are told minutely that he wasengaged in "brushing the dirt off a pair of boots . . . " There were tworows before him, one cleaned, the other dirty. "There were _eleven_pair, and one shoe, as belongs to No. 6 with the wooden leg. " "Theeleven boots is to be called at half-past eight (an odd consensus ineleven persons), and the shoe at nine. " He set to work upon a top-boot. 

The landlady then made her appearance in the opposite gallery and flungdown a pair of shoes to be cleaned for No. 5, first floor. There is adramatic action in these calls from the different galleries, which showsthat Boz had the stage before him. Sam then chalked the number on thesole. When he found that it was for people of consequence in a privateroom that the articles were required, he set to work with a will andproduced a polish "that would have struck envy to the soul of _theamiable Mr. Warren_, _for they used Day and Martin's at the_ '_WhiteHart_. '" Here will be noted the compliment to his old employer, thoughit was of a conventional sort. 

With this very number "Pickwick" was destined to leap into its amazingpopularity, and the advertisement must have been a valuable one. Theremay have been another reason, for there was to be a "Pickwickadvertiser, " which was patronised by the firms, and it may have beenstipulated as a condition that the author was to give them this "lift. "Another patron was Rowland, whose real name was Rouland, of "Maccassaroil" and "Kalydor" celebrity. We have a relic of one of these forgottennostrums in the familiar "Anti-maccassar" known to every good housewife. To Rowland or Rouland he later made an allusion in the text. 

This method of calling attention to the merits of wares was a Frenchone--a sort of _reclame_ introduced by Villemessant in his journal _LaSylphide_. Thus "Pickwick" was quite "up-to-date. " After Jingle hadgone off to Doctors Commons for his license, Sam renewed his efforts, "burnishing a pair of _painted tops_, worn by a farmer. " Then, interrogated by Perker, he described the tenants of the inn by theirboots--a pair of "Hessians" in 13, two pair of "halves, " with six "tops. "

In chapter xxxiv. We have another allusion to blacking. "No man, " saidSam, "ever talked in poetry 'cept a beadle on Boxin' Day, _or Warren'sblackin'_. " This referred to the rhymes--or verses--with which the firmfilled the newspapers in praise of their article. It will be rememberedthat Mrs. Jarley, in the "Old Curiosity Shop, " employed "a poet" tocelebrate her waxworks in similar fashion, and who was content with a fewshillings for each effort. We may be certain that this was a boyishrecollection, and that he had seen this blacking "poet" making his callsin Chandos Street or haggling for his miserable wage. The beadle, alsoalluded to, was a prominent figure with Boz; but he has disappeared, withhis huge cocked hat, scarlet waistcoat, and uniform. He is to be seen inWilkie's brilliant picture in the National Gallery. It is evident fromthe passage that he came round on Boxing Day for his _douceur_, remindinghis patrons, as the dustmen now do sometimes, by a copy of verses. Samadds that no one did this sort of thing except the persons mentioned--"and_Rowland's oil_, or some of them low fellows. " The perfumer could onlyhave been half pleased with this uncomplimentary form. Still, such as itwas, it _was_ an advertisement. Boz also makes several allusions to theinventor, Bramah, mentioning Bramah locks and keys with plugs, &c. OldWeller talks of being locked up "in a fireproof chest with a patent_Bramin_. " Bramah's hydraulic press was a scientific novelty then, aswere also his "patent safes. " Bramah appears to have advertised in"Pickwick. " These _reclames_ are of a rather elaborate kind, as whenLowten arrived at the office (lii), we are told, he drew "a Bramah keyfrom his pocket, with a small plug therein to keep the dust out. " Then"comforting himself with this reflection, Mr. Lowten extricated the plugfrom the door key; having opened the door, re-plugged and re-pocketed hisBramah. "

NOTE. --The horrors of the Blacking episode were ever present to Dickens'recollection, and, as if under a sort of fascination, he later seemedalmost impelled to refer to them. Thus, in Copperfield, we find himdescribing, but under a disguise, the same incident. As when he was sentto Murdstone and Grimby's warehouse, it was still the washing andlabelling of bottles--"_not of blacking_, " but of wines and spirits. "When the empty bottles ran short, there were labels to be pasted on thefull ones, or corks to be fitted to them, &c. " But there is also anotherallusion to the same, but curiously veiled, when he speaks of the carman, Tipp, who "wore a red jacket. " Now, to this day Day and Martin's carmenwear red jackets, and Warren's men probably did so; but, at all events, it is clearly an allusion to the costume of the blacking drivers. Thereare allusions to blacking in Little Dorrit and Bleak House. 

CHAPTER V. SINGLE SPEECH TRUNDLE

This gentleman, as we know, was the affianced husband of Isabella Wardle, and to the scenes of their marriage, the festivities, &c. , we owe somepleasing incidents. Trundle was a good specimen of the _cypher_ ornullity; naturally, he is a figure at Manor Farm, but does nothing, andpractically says nothing. He was clearly a neighbouring squire oflimited ideas, or plain country gentlemen, that could do no more thanlove his Isabella. Yet, while Boz describes the "affairs" of Arabellaand Winkle, of Emily and Snodgrass, he wholly passes by Trundle and his_inamorata_. We can see what manner of man Trundle was, as he is shownseated in the barouche, at the review, between the two sisters, each withlong ringlets and parasols. He is a good-looking young man, with mutton-chop whiskers and black hair, on which his hat is set jauntily. He isdescribed as "a young gentleman apparently enamoured of one of the youngladies in scarfs and pattens. " Wardle introduced him in a ratherpatronising way. "This is my friend, Mr. Trundle. " When the firingbegan, there was much agitation among the young ladies, screaming, &c. , so that the gentlemen had to support them: Mr. Trundle "was actuallyobliged to hold one of them up. " But after the lunch was unpacked, thewine uncorked, &c. , there came a remarkable development--Trundle actuallyspoke, made the one single remark that is recorded of him in the wholechronicle! Never before or after did he say a word. He was, in fact, "single speech Trundle. " And what were these words: "Will you permit meto have the pleasure, Sir?" said Mr. Trundle to Mr. Winkle; a proposal to"take wine with him, " as it is called, Winkle had a bottle all to himselfon the box seat, which, no doubt, attracted the reticent Trundle. Thetwo gentlemen not only took wine together, but had "a glass round, ladiesand all. " But we should note that Trundle phrase, the almost too humbleform: "Will you permit me the pleasure, Sir. " It looks as though Trundlewere "an ass, " as it is called. The fact remains, however, thatTrundle's single speech was: "Will you permit me to have the pleasure, Sir?"

After a few days' interval, when Mr. Pickwick and party found their wayto Manor Farm, there were games _galore_, and at the "round one, "Isabella and Trundle, we are told, "went partners, " so all was going onwell. The Squire had been nearly brought up to the point. It is painfulto come to the conclusion, but Isabella's admirer, though a countrygentlemen, was nothing of a sportsman, and rather a poor creature. WhenMr. Pickwick and his followers were up early and out at the rookshooting, we find no Trundle. He was lying a-bed, no doubt. Strangerstill, when the whole party went in for a day to Muggleton for thecricket match, Trundle was the only one who stayed behind. He remainedwith the ladies, for a purpose, no doubt; still, ladies don't like thissort of thing. The evening came. "Isabella and Emily strolled out withMr. Trundle. " I have an idea that on this very day matters came to acrisis in that quarter. Everything favoured--all the men were away--hemay have seized the opportunity to "propose. " At all events, we aresignificantly told that at the supper "Isabella Wardle devoted herself_exclusively_ to Mr. Trundle. " Pointed enough, surely. We may befortified in this view by finding that on the return of the party, alldead drunk, at one in the morning, on Trundle was specially cast thedegrading menial duty of carrying Wardle to bed--his future father-in-law. 

Did Boz dislike this man all this while, or did he feel that he could donothing with him in the story? It is certain, however, that in the talksat Bury over the Bardell action, the Boarding School adventure, &c. , wenever hear the sound of Trundle's voice. He is effaced. He makes noremark on anything. 

One of Boz's most daring pantomime changes, is the sudden arrival of oldWardle at Bury, when Mr. Pickwick was released from the cupboard--andsandwich bags--in Miss Tomkins' school. The door was unlocked, and therestood Wardle and the silent Trundle. A rather lame account is given ofthe coincidence. Mr. Pickwick naturally asked, "How did you come here?""Trundle and I came down here for some good shooting on the first, " &c. Now, here it is evident Wardle good-naturedly saddled himself with thecompany of the silent man, but he had his reasons. Trundle was now son-in-law _elect_. They were both at the "Angel" at Bury, and for some dayshere were Mr. Pickwick and his "followers. " There was the excitingnotice of action _re_ Bardell v. Pickwick. There had nearly been Pott v. Pott and Winkle. And yet, all the time, this Trundle listens, and eatsand drinks; but there is no sign of him on the record. He is busymaintaining his character as a cypher. 

Everything, however, points to show the all but comtemptuous opinion thatwas held of this Trundle. Wardle had been there two or three days whenWinkle and the others came over from Eatanswill, yet he had never toldMr. Pickwick or Winkle that Trundle was to be married at Christmas, andthat they were all to be invited to the wedding. By the oddest ofcoincidences, Tupman and Snodgrass, getting down from the coach at the"Angel, " were met by Wardle, who at once said, "I have _just been_telling Pickwick that we must have you all down at Christmas. We'regoing to have a wedding. " But I doubt if this _be_ an oversight. Thefact was, no one thought anything of that cypher Trundle, or of hismarriage--a matter of no importance to anybody. That this is the trueexplanation is plain, for Snodgrass, fancying that the wedding was of_his_ lady, turned pale. What was old Wardle's remark? Most significantof Trundle's _status_. "Don't be frightened, " he said, "_it's only_Trundle _there_ and Bella. " "Only Trundle there, " _i. E. _, only that poorinsignificant thing there! No more depreciatory words could be chosen, or put into the mouth of an honest country gentleman. I am certain thatold Wardle gave his child reluctantly to this soft sort of fellow--"OnlyTrundle there!" Then for the shooting party. We hear of Tupman andWinkle even, with their guns, &c. , but not a sign of this Trundle, acountry gentleman, supposed to enjoy field sports. If Tupman and Winklehad to carry their guns reversed "like privates at a funeral, " wasTrundle excepted? We cannot tell, for he is not even named. Or was heof the shooting party at all? It has always seemed astonishing thatWinkle should have been allowed, particularly by Mr. Pickwick, to jointhe _second_ shooting party. Everyone seemed to have forgotten his firstperformance, when he might have shot his friend Tupman dead, and, as itwas, "peppered" him severely. Tupman would naturally have objected to sodangerous a companion. Wardle, at whose home the casualty occurred, merely said, "I beg my friend Winkle's pardon, though; he has had somepractice. " Was this ironical? I fancy the whole scene had passed out ofthe author's mind. 

Well, the Christmas season having come round--and certainly Trundle musthave been a very feeble creature to allow himself to be "kept over" forso long a time--the whole party assembled at Manor Farm; now there, andon such an occasion at least, Trundle, being one of the two centralfigures, will certainly assert himself. We shall expect to see and hearhim to good effect. Never was there a greater mistake. As thePickwickians arrived, the whole "house party" were in the lane to greetthem; we are told in careless fashion that among them "there wereIsabella and _her faithful_ Trundle, " _i. E. _, the poor insignificant"chap" who was about to enter the family by particular favour. Then Mr. Pickwick was told that they had all been to "inspect the furniture andfittings-up of the new house which the young couple were to tenant. " Thisis very significant, for it throws a certain light on Trundle'ssituation. It is plain that this house was on Wardle's property, andthat Trundle had none of his own. It was, in fact, a poorish match andthe young couple were dependent more or less on Wardle. Even the oldlady didn't like it, she resented their going to look at the house, andher son, to soothe her, made this significant speech: "Recollect Bella;_come_, _you must keep her spirits up_, _poor girl_. " "Poor girl!" "Keepher spirits up!" Why?

On the wedding day, however, Trundle made an effort to assert himself. Hewas "in high feather and spirits, " _i. E. _, awkwardly pretended to be, but, of course, took nobody in. Indeed, we are told he was "a littlenervous withal. " We may be sure he was, and therefore looking "more ofan ass" than ever. For such _must_ appear to be a really nervous man inhigh spirits and going to be married. All the girls were in tears, Wardle himself quite broken down, for they knew what was before the poorchild. At the wedding banquet Mr. Pickwick made an admirable, naturalspeech, which was greeted with tumults of applause, and was reported wordfor word. Then we are told how Wardle proposed Mr. Pickwick; Mr. Pickwick, the old lady; Snodgrass, Tupman, the poor relations, all hadtheir speeches; but there is not a single word of Trundle, who appears tohave been mumchance--no one wanted him. In his speech at the wedding, the amiable Pickwick had, of course, to give the expected conventionalpraises to Trundle. But how guarded he is! "God bless 'em, " he says;"my young friend I believe to be a very excellent and manly fellow. " I_believe_, _i. E. _, he did not _know_ it. "Manly, " we might question, forin manliness he was deficient. We could hear the rustics below: "SquireTrundle manly! he! he! not he!" But on the bride, Mr. Pickwick wasenthusiastic: "I _know_ her, " he said, "to be a very, very amiable andlovely girl; I admire, love, and esteem her. " At the close he prayedthat Wardle's daughter "might enjoy all the happiness that even he coulddesire. " Not that he was sure of, but that he could desire. ButTrundle, the cypher, no one thought of him, no one cared about hisspeech. Most likely, in his "nervousness, " he mumbled forth someindistinct words which no one could hear, so it was best and mostcharitable to pass him by altogether in the report. At the dance atnight, where he surely would have led off the movements, still not a wordof him. And at last, "long before Mr. Pickwick was weary of dancing, thenewly-married pair had retired from the room. " Mr. Lang fancies thatthey had gone upstairs; but I imagine they repaired to their new homeclose by. But then, with that minuteness which never fails Boz, we hadbeen told that they were not to go there till after the Christmasholidays. 

But, after all, one might be inclined to doubt this theory of the youngpair remaining at the house. For do we not find that on the next day, which was Christmas day, when there was the going to Church, and theskating and sliding, and Mr. Pickwick's immersion, there is no mention ofthe happy pair? It looks as though they were at their own home. 

After this, many events occurred. Mr. Pickwick was "tried" and"conwicted, " as old Weller has it; was sent to prison and released. Onhis return from Birmingham we have some signs of Wardle and his family. That gentleman was sorely disturbed by Emily's "goings on" withSnodgrass, and forecasted another imprudent marriage like Trundle's. Hehad a suitable match for her in his eye: "a young gentleman down in ourneighbourhood, " but Arabella's elopement set the fire to the powder, andhere it is worth while comparing the marriages of Emily and her sisterIsabella as a test of the relative importance of Snodgrass and thisTrundle. The one took place in London with great show and pomp, all thefamily going up specially for it. "A handsome portion was bestowed onEmily, " but there is not a word to show that Trundle received ahalfpenny. 

Then followed the scenes at Osborne's Hotel in the Adelphi, when all wasmade up and Snodgrass accepted. And now, at last, we hear something ofTrundle. Mrs. T. , as we might expect, was in an "interesting way, " andhad to be informed of what was going on. But it had to be broken to herby Trundle, in right of his office. Good, easy man! We can hear him:"the news will be too much for her" (this is on the record). She wouldinsist on going, and it would be fatal. He would, of course, implore hernot to agitate herself in her present state. As a matter of course hewas all astray. The news was _not_ too much for her. She ordered atonce a cap and a new dress, and declared that she _would_ go up for thewedding. The horrified Trundle, who had clearly no authority whatever, called in the Doctor to exert _his_, which he did in this way: by leavingit all to herself. Boz emphasizes it, by way of contrast to Trundle, saying that "he was a wise and _discreet fellow_. "

Of course the foolish Trundle was put aside; the lady went and sufferedno harm. This proves that Trundle was the _mari de la femme_, with nowill of his own. 

At Dulwich Church, the bridegroom was met "by the bride, the maids, theWinkles, the Wardles, and Trundles, " always to be last and insignificant. In course of time we are told that Mr. Pickwick was much troubled atfirst by the numerous applications made to him to act as Godfather to theoffspring of his friends! These came from Mr. Winkle, Mr. Snodgrass, andMr. Trundle. Last of course. Poor soul! We can see him, grown elderly, sitting at his own table, smiling or silent, or with an occasional "yes, my dear, " "certainly, my dear, " "by all means, my dear. "

CHAPTER VI. MUGGLETON AND ITS CRICKET

The situation and real name of Muggleton has always been a hotly debatedpoint; many have been the speculations and many the suggestions as to theoriginal. I was once inclined to adopt Gravesend, on the statement ofthe author's daughter, that, one day, driving with her father towardsCobham, he said that "it was here that Mr. Pickwick dropped his whip. "Cobham would be on the way to Gravesend. 

Now what was Muggleton? A large town, with Mayor, Burgesses, andFreemen--an ancient and loyal Borough, much given to petitioningParliament. It is insinuated that these petitions were guided byStiggins-like instincts--"a zealous advocacy of Christian principlescombined with a devoted attachment to commercial rights. Hence they wereagainst negro slavery abroad and _for_ the factory system at home. Theywere for abolishing Sunday trading in the streets, and for maintainingthe sale of church livings. " A member of Boz's family has assured methat Maidstone was in the author's mind: it is only some eight miles fromRochester. But "The Bull" waiter informed the Pickwickians thatMuggleton was nearly double the distance, or fifteen miles; whileGravesend is about six miles from Rochester--so the evidence of distancedoes not help us. Where, too, did Mr. Pickwick drop his whip? ThePickwickian enthusiast can ascertain this--'an he will--by a littlecalculation. After leaving "The Bull, " the tall quadruped exercised his"manoeuvre" of darting to the side of the road, rushing forward for someminutes--_twenty times_--which would cover about an hour. In theetching, there is a picture of the spot--a hedge-lined road. Mr. Pickwick and his friends had to walk the whole way; yet they arrived latein the afternoon. No one could walk from Rochester to Maidstone in thattime. 

It was natural that Mr. Pickwick should drop his whip--but most unnaturalthat he should ask Winkle to dismount and pick it up for him; and mostunnatural of all that Winkle, in his precarious situation, should consentto dismount. The ordinary course would be that Tupman or Snodgrassshould get down. Then, for the great marvel of all, we have Mr. Pickwick, who _would not_ get down, or _could not_ get down to pick uphis whip, getting down to help Mr. Winkle on to his horse! Thus, on thetwo occasions, the useless or lazy Tupman and Snodgrass kept their seats. 

It has been claimed--by the late Charles Dickens the younger--that TownMalling was Muggleton, and on the ground that it has always had areputation for good cricket. It is not far from Maidstone. But this iseasily disposed of. Muggleton is described as an important corporatetown, with a Mayor, etc. Further, the cricketing at Muggleton was of thepoorest sort. There was an elderly gentleman playing who could not stopthe balls--a slim one was hit on the nose--they were a set of "duffers, "in fact. As for Dickens knowing nothing about cricket, as Mr. Langcontends, I can say, that he was always interested in it. I myself haveseen him sit the whole day in a marquee, during a match got up by himselfat Gads Hill, marking (or "notching") in the most admirable manner. Anything he did or described, he did and described according to the bestfashion he could compass. 

Wishing, however, to investigate this knotty question thoroughly, Ilately communicated with the Town Clerk of Maidstone, Mr. HerbertMonckton, who was good enough to search the Books with reference tocertain queries which I furnished. Dickens states of the mysterious andunnamed Borough, that it had its Mayor, Burgesses, and Freemen--which atonce excludes Town Malling which the younger Charles Dickens hadselected. The Clerk has found that, at the period in question, therewere 813 Freemen on the roll. It has always been held to be "an ancientand loyal Borough, " but this, of course, most boroughs of its standingwould claim to be. Boz speaks of innumerable Petitions to Parliament, and Mr. Monckton tells me that he has found many petitions in theBooks--one in 1828 _against_ the Licensing Bill, which seems to provethat Maidstone, like Muggleton, "mingled a zealous advocacy of Christianprinciples with a devoted attachment to commercial rights. " Then as tothe description: Both Maidstone and Muggleton have an open square for themarket: there are also in both places in the square a fire office, linendraper, corn factor, saddler, grocer, shoe-shop, but apparently nodistiller. It was curious, certainly, that there should be an Inn withso odd a sign as the Blue Lion in Maidstone--and also a post bearing thissign, in front. Then as to the cricket, the cricket field was in theMeadow, Maidstone, not far from the High Street; while at Muggleton, weare told that Mr. Pickwick's friends "had turned out of the main streetand were already within sight of the field of battle. "

And here we may admire the wonderful walking powers that Boz allots tohis heroes--Tupman and Pickwick, who were elderly persons and stoutwithal. Fifteen miles to Muggleton--two miles further to Manor Farm--andall done between eleven o'clock, and a period "late in the afternoon"--sayfive o'clock. At a later visit came the memorable five-and-twenty-milewalk to get an appetite for dinner. The truth was, such stretches wereas nothing to Boz himself. Walking was his grand pastime and oneabsolute necessity. He tramped on with an amazing energy and vigour, which, as I know from experience, it was impossible to match. Sometimeshe walked the streets for nearly the whole night. This personal elementhelps to explain many things in "Pickwick" which contains the early lifeof Boz. 

CHAPTER VII. GOSWELL STREET

A question that has often exercised ingenious folk is, why did Mr. Pickwick choose to live in Goswell Street? rather, why did Boz selectsuch a quarter for him? Of course, at that time, it was really a"genteel" neighbourhood, as anyone can see who walks along the desolatestreets and terraces, the forlorn squares and enclosures that are closeby, and where the New River runs. Nothing is more depressing than theaspect of these fallen places; but, in Mr. Pickwick's time, they had notbeen very long erected. Indeed, this offers yet another department whichhis wonderful Book suggests: that it is the best record of all thechanges that have taken place in London. This Goswell Street tenancyshows clearly that the neighbourhood was a desirable one for residents ofposition. Mr. Pickwick was a City man, and his club met in Huggin Lane, in the City. He generally put up, or, as Bob Sawyer had it, "hung out, "at the "George and Vulture, " also in the City. One side of GoswellStreet, in those days--a road ascending to the old Angel Inn--faced, nearthe top, a number of the pretentious squares and terraces I have beendescribing. That interesting old theatre, Sadler's Wells, was in therear, and the New River passed beneath it or beside it, and, quiteuncovered in those days, rippled along on its course from the country. 

All the houses were private houses. Some enthusiasts have actuallyidentified Mrs. Bardell's apartments--but without a particle of evidence. Now it has become a busy thoroughfare, with a noisy tramway: nearly allthe houses have been turned into shops, and Mr. Pickwick could scarcelyrecognize his old quarters. The whole region bears a faded air. Amateurs, who love exploring their London, will find entertainment inwandering about Islington and the adjoining districts, experiencing quitea new sensation and hardly realizing that they are so close toAldersgate. The New River itself, which ends its course here, is apleasant attraction, with its great basin, and ancient offices by theedge of the water. 

Imitating Elia, I once set out from here, and followed its course and itsmany windings far out into the country, taking up the journey onsuccessive days, going towards its source in Hertfordshire, and a mostpleasant, interesting voyage of discovery it was. For it so winds andbends, now passing through fields and demesnes, now skirting towns andvillages, that it is just as picturesque as any natural stream. Suchbeing its attractions, Mr. Pickwick was virtually living in the countryor in the suburbs, and enjoying the fine, keen, inspiring air which thejaded Londoner from lower districts may, even now, still inhale. Thereis no Goswell Street now, but Goswell _Road_--a very noisy, clatteringthoroughfare. 

Another remark to be made is this:--how much do we owe to the vivifyingpower of Boz's descriptions of these old Towns, Inns, and Streets? Theordinary provincial town--unsung and undescribed by him--remains what itis and nothing more. York and Manchester stir no memories, and areunvisited by pilgrims, because _they are not in Pickwick_. Boz seems tohave found the true _interpretation_ and inner meaning of each place, andhas actually preserved the tone and flavour that existed in his own time. This continues even now. As we stroll through Rochester or Ipswich, Bathor Bury, Pickwick and his friends walk with us. And, as if wellcontented to rest under the spell, these antique towns have made noeffort at change, but remain much as they were. 

And this prompts the question: _Where did Mrs. Cluppins live_? At thetrial we learned that she was a friend and neighbour of Mrs. Bardell's, one of her _commeres_. She had "looked in" on the momentous morning, having been out to purchase "kidney pertaties, " yet, on their Hampsteadjunketting, we find her coming with the Raddles, in their cab, all theway from Lant Street, Borough. She was clearly Mrs. Raddle's friend andneighbour. Perhaps she had moved, though this is not likely. Thehousehold gods of such, like Elia's, strike a deep root. 

In his descriptions of the Bardell party's journey to Hampstead, whichended so disastrously, the art of Boz is shown as usual by supplying thenotion of movement--he seems to take us along up the northern heights--wefeel the pleasurable anticipations of a party of pleasure for the lowermiddle class. From the lower end of Goswell Street--where Mr. Pickwick'slodgings must have been, for, in the upper part, there are no housesopposite for Mrs. Raddle to call at--it must have been a long drive forthe party. I assume they must have made for Kentish Town, and toiled upHaverstock Hill at a walk, for the coach was heavily laden enough. Pleasant Hampstead! One is always glad to find Boz associating hishumour with places that we are deeply interested in. The Hampstead ofthis hour, though changed enough, may remind us very fairly of Boz'stime. It has still the attractions of the old-fashioned, red-brickhouses, and terraces, the mixture of green, and the charming, evenseductive, heath. "The Spaniards" at Hampstead--Boz calls it "_The_Spaniard"--is scarcely altered from the day of the Bardell visit, and isas picturesque as ever with its Tea Gardens and Bowers. I never pass itwithout seeming to see Jackson's hackney-coach waiting and the Sheriff'sman at the gate taking his drink. The other Inn, also bound up withmemories of Boz, "Jack Straw's Castle, " also stands, but one reads withalarm on this day of grace (June 12th, 1898):--

 There are few Londoners who will not grieve to hear that the well-known inn on the Spaniards Road, "Jack Straw's Castle, " famous as the rendezvous of authors, artists, statesmen, and many a celebrity of old days, is going the way of other ancient buildings. The low rooms and quaint interior of the hostel are now being entirely transformed and modernised. The only concession made to the prejudices of the old frequenters of the inn is that the outer face is to be preserved intact. To the passer by, no great change will perhaps be apparent; but within, the charm of the place will have vanished entirely. A spacious saloon bar flooded with glaring light, with modern furniture and appliances, is to take the place of the old rooms, coffee-room, billiard-room, and bar. In fact, it is to become a modern hotel. The change is quite enough to make the shade of Dickens arise. As John Forster has told us, the great novelist loved this old chop-house, and, after a ramble on the Heath, often adjourned here for a good, wholesome dinner. 

CHAPTER VIII. MARY HOGARTH

This young girl--to whom a touching interest attached from her being soprematurely cut off--was a most interesting creature, one of threesisters, daughters of Mr. George Hogarth, a Writer to the Signet, who isa sort of link between Scott and Dickens. For he had acted as theformer's man of business in the Ballantyne disputes, and must haveprompted Dickens in the article that he wrote on that thorny subject. Hewas a good musician and a writer in the magazines. We find his work inthe old "Monthly Magazine" where Dickens made his _debut_; and when Bozwas installed as editor of "Bentley's, " we find him admitting much of hisfather-in-law's writing. His "Memoirs of the Opera" are well-known. There is a charming outline sketch of Maclise's, showing the profiles oftwo of the sisters with Dickens, all three of the most refined andinteresting cast--but Boz's face is certainly the handsomest of thethree. He must have been a most attractive young man--something of thepattern of his own Nicholas Nickleby. 

One of the most interesting features of the episode is the reference theauthor was constantly making to this bereavement. In the rollicking"Pickwick, " any serious introduction of such a topic would have been outof place: though I fancy a little paragraph in the account of the ManorFarm Christmas festivities is connected with it. But about the sametime, or rather, some six months later, he was busy with his "OliverTwist, " and it seems certain that Rose Maylie was drawn from thissympathetic creature, for there is a feeling and a passionate griefdisplayed that could only be caused by the loss of a person that he hadknown and loved. Here is his description of Rose:--"The younger lady wasin the lovely bloom and springtime of womanhood, at that age when, ifever angels be for God's good purposes enthroned in mortal forms, theymay be without impiety supposed to abide in such forms as hers. She wasnot _past seventeen_. Cast in so slight and exquisite a mould; so mildand gentle; so pure and beautiful; that earth seemed not her element, norits rough creatures her fit companions. "

We may compare with this the touching inscription placed by Dickens onher tomb in Kensal Green: "Young, beautiful and good, God, in His mercy, numbered her among His angels at the early age of seventeen. " He hadlong planned that he should be laid beside her, but on Mrs. Hogarth'sdeath, some five years later, he had to resign his place to her. Thiswas a renewal of the old grief. The epitaph nearly seems the epitome ofall that he says of Rose Maylie. 

"The very intelligence that shone in her deep blue eye, and was stampedupon her noble head, seemed scarcely of her age, or of the world; and yetthe changing expression of sweetness and good humour, the thousand lightsthat played upon the face and left no shadow there; above all, the smile, the cheerful, happy smile, were for Home, and fireside peace andhappiness. " She is then described as "playfully putting back her hair, which was simply braided on her forehead; and threw into her beaming looksuch an expression of affection and artless loveliness that blessedspirits might have smiled to look upon her. "

The earnestness, the feeling of sincerity thrown into thisdescription--the tone of reality--leave a conviction that this must havebeen drawn from a person who had lived and in whom the writer had thedeepest interest. Further, it is clearly the description of a person whohad passed away: of one who was no longer with him. {66} "She was at thetheatre with us on Saturday night, well and happy, and expired in my armsa few hours afterwards. " So he wrote to Mr. Cox. 

At the end, he returns to the subject, and retouches the picture:

 "I would show Rose Maylie in all the bloom and grace of early womanhood, shedding on her secluded path in life the soft and gentle light that fell on all who trod it with her and shone into their hearts; I would paint her _the life and joy of the fireside circle_, and the lively summer group; I would follow her through the sultry fields at noon, and hear the low tones of her sweet voice in the moonlit evening walk; I would watch her in all her goodness and charity abroad, and the untiring discharge of domestic duties at home; I would summon before me again those joyous little faces that clustered round her knee; I would recall the tone of that clear laugh, and conjure up that sympathizing tear that glistened in the soft, blue eye. These, and a thousand looks and smiles, and turns of thought and speech, I would fain recall them, every one. "

Again, it is clear that all this is personal, and written of one that heknew and deeply loved. 

In "Nickleby, " there is yet another allusion to this sad subject--it issuggested by Kate's grief for Smike:

 "It is an exquisite and beautiful thing in our nature that, when the heart is softened and touched by some tranquil happiness or affectionate feeling, the memory of the dead comes over it most powerfully and irresistibly. It would almost seem as though our better thoughts and sympathies were charms in virtue of which the soul is enabled to hold some vague and mysterious intercourse with the spirits of those whom we dearly loved in life. Alas! how often and how long may these patient angels hover above us, watching for the spell which is so seldom uttered, and so soon forgotten. "

This is no artificial utterance. He had clearly interrupted himself toindulge in this sad retrospect. He then points a moral from Mrs. Nickleby, who, he says, could not conceive the idea of anyone dwelling onsuch thoughts in secret. I have always had a notion that this worthylady's incongruities and rambling methods were suggested by one of hisown household, whose imperfection was found to be a complete lack ofsympathy with him in all his feelings. 

The devotion of Oliver Twist to Rose, it is not fanciful to say, wasintended to symbolise his own to Mary. We can recall the passionate, agitated excitement with which Rose's illness is described--the hangingon the doctor's sentence, &c. --a reminiscence certainly, and we have onlyto look at the sketch by Cruikshank of his friend (given in my"_Bozland_") to recognise the likeness to Oliver. Oliver's sufferingswere his own. 

How tremendous the blow of her death must have been to the successfulwriter may be conceived when he did not scruple to interrupt the book andcast it aside altogether from sheer incapacity to write a line. The Junenumber did not appear. No one can imagine the inconvenience, the loss, the enormous risks that were run by taking this step--the horror andconsternation of the publishers and all concerned. It proved howindifferent he had become to his prospects and prosperity when he couldhazard such a thing. The first of the month came round, but no"Pickwick. " It was a public catastrophe. When he was able to resume hisstory, he found it necessary to issue an explanation in the form of anaddress. {68}

 186 Strand, June 30th, 1837. 

 The author is desirous to take the opportunity afforded him by the resumption of his work to state, once again, what he thought had been stated sufficiently emphatically before, namely, that its publication was interrupted by a severe domestic affliction of no ordinary kind; that this was the sole cause of the non-appearance of the present number in its usual course; that, hereafter, it will continue to be published with its accustomed regularity. However superfluous this _second notice_ may appear to many, it is rendered necessary by various idle speculations and absurdities which have been industriously propagated during the past month and which have reached the author's ears from many quarters, and have grieved him exceedingly. By one set of intimate acquaintances, especially well- informed, he has been killed outright; by another, driven mad; by a third, imprisoned for debt; by a fourth, left per steamer for the United States; by a fifth, rendered incapable of mental exertion for evermore; by all, in short, represented as doing anything but seeking by a few weeks' retirement, the restoration of cheerfulness and peace, of which a sad bereavement has necessarily deprived him. 

CHAPTER IX. THE PICKWICK CLUB

This was a common form of social meeting, and we find in the memoirs ofAdolphus and John Taylor and Frederick Reynolds descriptions of the "Keepthe Line, " "The Finish, " and other oddly-named societies. The cheerfulglass was the chief object. Mr. Lowten's Club, "The Magpie and Stump, "in Clare Market, supplies a specimen of a lower class club. "Veelsvithin veels, " as Sam would say. 

In his speech at Dulwich, at the close of the book, Mr. Pickwick spokerather pathetically of the closing of his wanderings. "I shall neverforget having devoted the greater part of two years to mixing withdifferent varieties and shades of human character, frivolous as mypursuit of novelty may have appeared to many. " He spoke of the clubalso, to which "he had communicated both personally and by letter, "acquainting them with his intention of withdrawing from public life tothe country. He added that "during our long absence it had suffered muchfrom internal dissensions, " and this, with other reasons, had obliged himto dissolve it. This "absence, " both as planned and carried out, wasmerely occasional. Mr. Pickwick and his friends were rarely, and onlynow and then, absent from town, going away for short spells, save, ofcourse, the enforced absence in the Fleet Prison and the months or weeks(as it may be) in Bath. "The George and Vulture" was not far from HugginLane, so Mr. Pickwick must have been constantly at the Club, or _could_have been had he chosen to go there. All this notion of severance, therefore, was somewhat sentimental. 

But the "dissensions" the President spoke of were natural enough. He wasthe founder and mainstay of the association--probably paid its expenses. The whole object of the institution, it may be suspected, was to exaltthe founder. In such a state of things, it was natural that there shouldbe an opposition, or discontented party, headed by "that Blotton. " WhenBlotton was got rid of, his friends would think that he had been badlytreated and take advantage of the occasional absences of the chief tofoment revolt. Then Blotton was expelled, assuredly unfairly, for hemerely took the opposite view on the Cobham stone, and he might have leftsome who belonged to his faction and who thought he had been harshlydealt with. Mr. Pickwick, in fact, merely returned from his agreeablejunketting to have this gentleman expelled. Despotism of this sortalways leads to discontent and parties--hence the "dissensions. " Mr. Pickwick, from his treatment of Blotton, must have been a Tory of the oldEldon school. Here was his blemish. He had no toleration for others, and had an undue idea of his own position. We can trace the whole thingperfectly. He was a successful man of business--an export merchantapparently--being connected with an agent at Liverpool whom he had"obliged. " Round such a man who was good-natured and philanthropic wouldgather flatterers and toadies; hence the suggestion to found a club withhis own name and "button. " Of this he could be "Boss, " and he waslistened to and courted. It was like the devotion of satellites to thelate Mr. Gladstone. We can see all this in the picture of the club atthe beginning, where, with the exception of the four legitimatePickwickians, all seem rather of the tradesman class, and are vulgartypes enough. In such surroundings, Mr. Pickwick could "rule the roast"and grow despotic and even arrogant. 

Blotton, however, who seems to have been an independent sort of fellow, could not submit to this, was of the Opposition, and, no doubt, a thornin Mr. Pickwick's side. And here is yet another point of the likeness tothe Johnsonian coterie. In "The Club, " Hawkins--Sir John of that ilk--wasuncongenial--"a detestable fellow, " Bozzy calls him--objecting, quarrelling, and, at last, on one occasion was so rude that he had towithdraw. Now, that this offence was rankling is evident, and itexplains the fracas which took place at the opening. Blotton looked onMr. Pickwick's travelling as pure humbug. The idea of his contributinganything useful or instructive in his so-called reports seemed nonsense. Further, was it not something of a job? Pickwick was taking three of hisown special "creatures" with him--Winkle, to whom he had been appointedgovernor; Snodgrass, who was his ward; and Tupman, who was his butt andtoady. They were the _gentlemen_ of the club. None of the outsiderswere chosen. From Blotton's behaviour, too, on the Cobham business, itis clear he thought Mr. Pickwick's scientific researches were also"humbug. " A paper by that gentleman had just been read--"The tracing ofthe source of the ponds at Hampstead" and "Some observations on thetheory of tittlebats. " There was somewhat too much of this "bossing. "The whole report read by the secretary was full of gross flatteries. Theyhad "just heard read with feelings of unmingled satisfaction andunqualified approval, " &c. , "from which advantages must accrue to thecause of science"--cause of rubbish! Then, it added, obsequiously, something about "the _inestimable_ benefits from carrying thespeculations of that _learned_ man" &c. Mr. Pickwick, in his speech, wascertainly self-laudatory and provocative. He talked of his pride inpromoting the Tittlebatian theory, and "let _his enemies make the most ofit_. " This was marked enough, and no doubt caused looks at Blotton. Thenhe began to puff his new enterprise at "a service of some danger. "

There were, were there not, upsets of coaches "in all directions, " horsesbolting--boats overturning, and boilers bursting? Now, Blotton--afterall the humbug that had gone before, and particularly after a provocativereference to himself--could not stand this, and, amid the obsequiouscries and "cheers, " said, boldly, "No!" (A Voice: "No!") That is, signifying there were no such dangers. The fury of the orator on "theWindsor chair, " was quite Gladstonian. "No!" he cried; on which thecheers of his followers broke out. "Who was it that cried No?" Then heproceeded to imagine it came from some "vain and disappointed man--hewouldn't say haberdasher. "

To the Pickwick Club there was a Vice-President, named Smiggers--JosephSmiggers, Esq. , P. V. P. M. P. C. , that is, Perpetual Vice-President andMember of the Pickwick Club. Smiggers was, of course, supposed to be"Pickwick's creature, " or he would not have been there. He was a tall, corpulent man, with a soft face--as we see him in his picture. As Mr. Pickwick speaks, it is remarkable that both Vice-President andSecretary--the two officers--have each one arm raised as if in ecstaticrapture--clear proof of their subservience to Pickwick. On Smiggers'right is a "doddering" old fellow of between seventy and eighty--clearlya "nullity"--on his left, another member nearly as old, but with aglimmer of intelligence. Down the side of the table, facing the orator, are some odd faces--one clearly a Jew; one for whom the present Mr. Edward Terry might have sat. Blotton is at the bottom, half turned awayin disgust. His neighbour looks at him with wonder, as who should say, "How can you be so insensible?" Odd to say--and significant, too--Blottonhas brought into the club his _dog_, a ferocious looking "bull, " whichsits at his feet under the table. We should say, on the whole, thatBlotton could only count on--and that, with but a limited sympathy--theTerry-faced and Jew-faced men--if he _could_ count on them. TheSecretary was like a clerk--a perky fellow--and had a pen behind his ear;probably in some Bank or Counting House, so strong is habit. One memberof the Club alone is invisible--the one beyond Tupman--all that is seenof him is a hand holding a tumbler as if about to drink. The Dodderer isapplauding; so are the Jew, Blotton and Tupman; so is the round-facedman, just beyond the invisible one. 

Mr. Pickwick and his three friends being removed or absent, and Blottonexpelled, out of the fourteen members there were left but nine, whereofwe reckon four or five as Pickwickians and the rest as _Blottonites_. 

And how easily can we imagine the acrimonious discussions that went on!

"This 'ere Pickwick, who was always making the club a hend to his ownglorification, had gone off on his touring to get more grist for hismill. " It was really, a "mutual admiration society, " and as for thereports, notes, &c. , he was sending back "they 'ad 'ad enough of it. " Theclub didn't meet to be listening to long-winded yarns to be read out bytheir worthy secretary, but for a glass and social intercourse. As forthe "travels and preambulations, " what were they more than visits togenteel 'ouses where Pickwick was "showing oft" at their expense? Thenwhere were the "Sportin' transactions?" The whole thing was "rot. " Thenthe Cobham stone business, at which the whole town was laughing, andwhich their worthy friend Blotton had exposed. Blotton was the only long-headed, creditable man they had. _He_ ought to have been theirpresident. But he had been turned out by the "_lick-spittles_" of thesociety. 

CHAPTER X. ROADSIDE INNS

I. --The Bell at Berkeley Heath

In the animated journey, from Bristol to Birmingham, the travellersstopped at various posting-houses where the mercurial Sawyer would insiston getting down to lunch, dine, or otherwise refresh--his friends beingalways ready to comply after a little decent hesitation. It was thusthat they drew up at The Bell at Berkeley Heath, which our writerpresently sketches. It will be seen there is more of the drink at theBell than of the Bell itself. It is, indeed, no more than _coecumnomen_--much as though we read the name at the end of "Bradshaw"--yet, somehow, from the life and movement of the journey, it offers a sort ofattraction: it seems familiar, and we have an interest in it. The Bellnow "goes on, " as the proprietor tells me. There are travellers who comethere and drink Boz's health in the snug parlour. It is, in fact, aPickwickian Inn, and is drawn within the glamour of the legend, and, whata marvel! the thing is done by the magic of those three or four lines. "The Bell, " says Mrs. Hooper, "lies back on the main road from Bristol toGloucester, and is just nineteen miles from Bristol. It is a ramblingold house and a good deal dilapidated, and of good age. "

With this meagre record it yet offers such Pickwickian interest that, notmany months ago, a photograph was taken of it which was engraved for the_Daily Graphic_. There is no Mr. Pickwick's room to be shown, asundoubtedly there _would_ be had that gentleman only stayed the nightthere; but he only lunched and then went forward. There is a mistinessas to whether the Pickwickians sat in the public coffee-room or had aprivate "settin'-room. " It was to a certainty the coffee-room, as theyonly stayed a short time. So the proprietor, with a safe conscience, might exhibit "the room where Mr. Pickwick lunched. " On the face isimbedded a tablet bearing the date 1729, and there is an ancient farmerclose by who was born in "The Bell" in the year 1820. If we lendourselves properly to the delusion, he might recall Mr. Pickwick's chaisedrawing up full sixty years ago. "Ay, I mind it well. I were joost thenfifteen. A stoutish gent in gaiters--might 'ave been a bishop--and sicha lively young chap as wos with him, full o' spirits, chucking a' thegurls under the chins. And their sarvant! O _he_ were one. Sam, hewere caa'd--I moind that--Sam Summut. And they caa'd for the best o'everythin', and took away wi' them a lot, Madeary, and wot not, " and soon. 

II. --The Greyhound, Dulwich

Mr. Pickwick, as we know, at the close of his wanderings retired to thistranquil and pleasant suburb--then much more retired than it is now. Inaccordance with his habit of enshrining his own personal sympathies inhis writing, Boz was, as it were, conveying that it was such asequestered spot as he himself would choose under similar conditions. Last year (1898), the interesting old road-side Inn, The Greyhound, waslevelled--an Inn to which Mr. Pickwick must have found his way in thedull evening to drink "cold Punch" or preside at the club which he mostcertainly--if we know him well--must have founded. A wealthy gentlemanof social tastes, and with a love for tavern life, would have nodifficulty in establishing a new Pickwick Club. 

At the Greyhound, nigh a century ago, there was actually a club whichentertained Tom Campbell, Mark Lemon, Byron's tutor, and many more. Bozhimself, we are told, used to find his way there with Theodore Hook, Moore, and others. Boz, therefore, must have regarded this place withmuch favour, owing to his own experiences of it--and to have selected itfor his hero's tranquil old age shows how high a place it had in hismemory. The description is charming and brings this sylvan retreat towhich we have walked many a time perfectly before us. 

This taste for surrounding himself with persons of lower degree--such aswere the rank and file--was curiously enough shared by Mr. Pickwick'spredecessor, Dr. Johnson, who, when he found the Literary Club somewhattoo much of a republic, and getting "out of hand, " established a socialmeeting at the Essex Head Club--in the street of that name, off theStrand--composed in the main of respectable tradesmen, who would listenobsequiously. Thus, it may be repeated, does the same sort of characterdevelop invariably on the same lines, and thus did Mr. Pickwickunconsciously follow in the footsteps of the "great Lexicographer. "

III. --Grimaldi the Younger

As I was the first to point out, the powerful "Stroller's Tale" of whichBoz himself thought so highly, was founded on the career of theunfortunate son of the great Grimaldi. The story is related by "DismalJemmy, " the actor, who, in the tale itself, is called Hutley, and itcorresponds in all its details with Grimaldi's history. He died inSeptember, 1832, nearly four years before Pickwick was thought of, butBoz had learned the incident long before the Grimaldi MSS. Were given himto edit, and I am inclined to think he must have learned them from hisfriend Harley who was intimate with the Grimaldis. In the memoirs it isstated that Gledinning, a Printer, was sent by the father to his son'sdying bed, and he was probably the Hutley of the Stroller's Tale, and, perhaps, the person who brought old Grimaldi the news of his death. Weare told in the "Tale" that he had an engagement "at one of the Theatreson the Surrey side of the water, " and in the memoirs we find that he wasoffered "an engagement for the Christmas at the Coburg. " There his deathis described:--"He rose in bed, drew up his withered limbs--he wasacting--he was at the Theatre. He then sang some roaring song. Thewalls were alive with reptiles, frightful figures flitted to and fro . . . His eyes shone with a lustre frightful to behold, the lips wereparched and cracked, the dry, hard skin glowed with a burning heat, andthere was an almost unearthly air of wild anxiety in the man's face. "Hutley also describes how he had to hold him down in his bed. Comparewith this the account in the memoirs--"his body was covered with afearful inflammation--he died in a state of wild and furious madness, rising from his bed, dressing himself in stage costume to act snatches ofthe parts, and requiring to be held down to die by strong manual force. "This dreadful scene took place at a public house in Pitt Street, out ofTottenham Court Road. 

"The man I speak of, " says Boz in the story, "was a low, pantomime actorand an habitual drunkard. In his better days he had been in the receiptof a good salary. His besetting sin gained so fast on him that it wasfound impossible to employ him in the situations in which he really wasuseful. " In the "memoirs" this is more than supported: "The man whomight have earned with ease and comfort from six to seven hundred a year, was reduced to such a dreadful state of destitution and filth . . . Infact, at one time, it was thought he might have succeeded his father. "

It is quite plain, therefore, that Boz was recalling this tragic episode. Boz remarks that pantomime actors--clowns and others "either die earlyor, by unnaturally taxing their bodily energies, lose prematurely theirphysical powers. " This was what occurred to Grimaldi, the father, whosecurious decay he was to describe later in the memoirs. It may be addedthat there is an Alderman Harmer, Hatton Garden, mentioned in thememoirs, with whom Grimaldi _pere_ had some dealings; and, long after, this name was introduced by Boz into "Our Mutual Friend. "

CHAPTER XI. MR. PICKWICK'S PROTOTYPE

We had a narrow escape of losing our Pickwick and his familiar type. Theoriginal notion was to have "a tall, long, thin man, " and only for thelate Edward Chapman, who providentially thought of the Richmondgentleman, Foster, we should have lost for ever the short, rotundPickwick that we so love and cherish. A long, thin Pickwick! He couldnot be amiable, or benevolent, or mild, or genial. But what _could_ sucha selection mean? Why, that Boz saw an opening for humorous treatment inintroducing a purblind, foolish Professor, or scientist--one withspectacles--prying into this and that, taking notes &c. As Winkle wasthe sportsman, Tupman, the lover, Snodgrass, the poet, so Mr. Pickwickwas to be a sort of Pangloss or Dominie Sampson. His curiosity and loveof enquiry were to get him into scrapes, just as Mr. Winkle's shamsportsmanship was to get him into embarrassments. In fact, the firstappearance in Seymour's plate--the scene with the cabman--shows him asquite a different Pickwick; with a sour, cantankerous face; not in"tights, " but in a great coat; he is scarcely recognisable. Seymour wasthen determined to show him after his own ideal. But when the poorartist destroyed himself the great man was brought up to the fittingtype. So undecided were the parties about that type that the author hadto leave it altogether an open question--a _tabula rasa_--not announcingthat his hero was either tall or short, fat or lean, pale or rosy; all hecommits himself to in his opening chapter is that he was bald, that hewore tights and gaiters, and, what is rather singular, _circularspectacles_. I suppose, in contrast to the more elongated glasses. 

It might be an interesting question for the "paper of questions, " "Whydid Mr. Pickwick wear circular spectacles?" Was there any localweakness? The artist never forgot this direction. In the author of theTittlebatian system, &c. , the "circular spectacles" would impart a sortof wise and owl-like stare. It was, of course, due to Chapman, thepublisher, and was another of his "happy suggestions. "

This Mr. Foster, of Richmond--fortunately for himself--was not known tobe the original of "Pickwick, " though many must have been struck by thelikeness, both in physique and costume, to the picture. It is not statedthat the features were copied, though, no doubt, Chapman would havevividly described them also; and Seymour was so ready and deft with hispencil that he must have certainly caught the likeness even from thedescription. We could fancy him rapidly making trial sketches, "Is thatnear it?" "No, fatter in the cheeks. " "Is _that_?" "No, forehead alittle higher, more bald, " and so on. I myself was at Richmond, havingjust come from school, about ten years after the appearance ofPickwick--and for aught I know may have seen this Foster promenading iton the Hill. There was no particular interest then in Pickwick--whichwas somewhat forgotten, the interest being absorbed in the newer andbrilliant works which Boz was bringing out. The society there wasthoroughly Pickwickian; there were many old-fashioned figures, includingthe Mr. Jesse at whom the "Ponto" story was directed. We were gayenough. The old Star and Garter was flourishing. There were theAssembly Rooms at the Castle Inn, with "Almack's Balls"; barges comingdown on Regatta days, when people danced on the deck and feasted in thecabin. There were private parties and dinners, and the oldTheatre--Kean's, with the manager's house adjoining--was still standingon the Green, opening fitfully enough for a few nights, and then closingas fitfully. There I saw "The Green Bushes. " Such a little Bandbox asit was! There were the two wooden staircases _outside_, of quaintappearance. Mr. Tupman may have been then alive and walking on theTerrace. He had retired there just twenty years before. He had probablyrooms on the Green, near Maid of Honour Row. This little sketch showsclearly that Richmond is very nearly associated with Pickwick. But herecomes in another reminiscence of Richmond, for there rises before me, about a dozen years after the appearance of the book, the image of a veryPickwickian figure--bald and "circular, " cozy, wearing a white tie andglasses--a favourite gossip with all the ladies--no other indeed thanMaria Edgworth's brother. He was a florid, good-humoured personage, agreat talker, knew everybody in the place, and, like Mr. Pickwick, was anold bachelor, and kept an important housekeeper. He was genial andhospitable, would give parties, dinners, and dances. But the likeness inphysique was the oddest part. 

As the outside of Foster, of Richmond, supplied Mr. Pickwick's outsideand habit as he lived, so his "in'ards, " or character, was also turned toprofit and not wasted. And here suggests itself a very likelyspeculation. This image of the Richmond Foster was before him; throughthe book he thought of the old Beau and the ladies' protests. Theamorous element would not do for his hero, for whom he had other work;but while he left the physique to Pickwick he certainly transferred the_character_ to one of his leading figures. That this is not fancifulwill be seen. Mr. Chapman described Foster as "a fat old Beau": he wasvery popular, or, it may be, exceedingly well off. And at a place likeRichmond he would be very _recherche_. But is it not exactly suggestiveof Tupman--this "fat old Beau" devoted to the ladies? ("Because you aretoo old, sir; and too fat, sir, " said his chief. ) And on the firstopportunity he _did_ get into tights, viz. , as the brigand. What is moreconvincing is that at the close Boz sent Tupman back to Richmond whencehe came, and where we are carefully assured "he walks constantly on theTerrace during the summer months with a youthful and jaunty air which hasrendered him the admiration of the numerous elderly dames of singlecondition who reside in the vicinity. " Seeing Mr. Foster's occupation, Ireally think that this accounts for the novelist's selection of Richmond. 

Mr. Chapman recalled that not even the persuasion of the Richmond ladiescould induce Mr. Foster, of Richmond, to forego his "tights" andgaiters--and much amusement was caused by the idiosyncrasy. Thispersistence, it is clear, was before Boz, who makes Mr. Pickwick abandonhis gaiters only at the Ball at Manor Farm, but we are distinctly told"that it was the first time" he did so "within the memory of his oldestfriends. " Thus we have Foster, of Richmond, brought into actual touchwith his double. Thus much for his physique, which, it is admitted, wasall that was drawn from Foster. But that friendly manner; that genial, amiable nature which made him think "the whole world akin;" whence didBoz import all that? I believe he found this genial, friendly type inthe very man who had suggested Foster, of Richmond, to him. That this isnot purely fanciful will be seen from an account of Edward Chapman kindlysupplied to me by one of his family. 

"He was a short, stoutish person, very good-humoured, an affectionatefamily man, unaffected, and fond of the country. But touching hischaracter; the first feature that came into my mind was his extremejustice; in my very earliest years I remember being impressed by it--one_felt_ it: all actions and motives were judged with a catholicity andcharity that made us trust him implicity, and I see my sister has thesame remembrance. He was naturally of a quiet, easy disposition; notmuch of a talker, but when he spoke he was always worth listening to. Isee also she mentions his sense of humour, when his eyes would light upwith a merry twinkle. I never remember hearing him say an unkind word toanyone. It is very pleasant to hear that papa is to be mentioned inconnection with Pickwick, and I will gladly tell you all I can regardingmy impressions of his character and tastes, &c. We only saw him for ashort hour in the evening when he was tired after his day's work andlittle inclined to talk, but we always had a child-like instinct of hisgreat justice and impartiality--an impression that I retained all throughhis life. 

"Later on, at Tunbridge Wells, where we saw more of him, I learned toadmire his vast store of knowledge, as there was hardly a subject that Iasked for information on that he did not know a great deal about. Alsohe had a great love of beauty in nature, and was never so happy as whenhe had his favourite, shabby old hat on and a long stick, which he hadcut himself, in his hand, and poked about the grounds which surroundedour house, inspecting the holly hedge and shrubs he had planted--in factit used to be a standing joke that he used to measure his holly bushesevery day to see how much they had grown in the night. He was perfectlyhappy in such a life, as it suited his peaceful contented nature. 

"He was a man who never used a rough word to anyone, but his remarks, ifhe were angry, could sting sharply. He had a fund of quiet humour, likea Scotchman, and his sallies told all the more, as they generally camewhen least expected and without an effort. Later on, I travelled with mymother and him for several years and benefited greatly through hisknowledge and love of art, and his recognition and appreciation of allthat was good and worthy of admiration in foreign lands and peoples. Hehad a soft heart, too, and was always ready to help those who asked foraid. "

Next is introduced the prototype of Mr. Pickwick in a few touches:--

"There was an old family friend living at Richmond, named John Foster, _not Forster_, who was quite a character, especially in his personalappearance; it occurred to my father to introduce him to Dickens who hadjust commenced the Pickwick Papers. Accordingly, they were invited tomeet one another at dinner, and, from this copy, Dickens turned outPickwick. 

"The trial in Pickwick was not originally written as it is given to thepublic. The number was just coming out and in the hands of "the reader"(I believe John Forster was my father's reader at that time, and had beeneducated for the Bar), when the following occurred: Dickens was going todine that evening at my father's house; they were waiting for dinner tobe announced, when a messenger came in a great hurry (I think it musthave been from the reader) to say that Dickens was wrong on a point oflaw, and that something must be done at once as the number was on the eveof publication, and the printers were waiting. They rang the bell, ordered dinner to be put back, and placed pen and paper before Dickenswho set to work at once and re-wrote part of the trial, there and then;it was given to the messenger waiting in the hall, and Dickens sat downto dinner with a comfortable feeling that the publication had been savedin time. 

"I have given these anecdotes as we remember hearing them spoken about inour home. I can picture the last one so well, the rapidity with which itwas done, the young author, my parents, and the pretty home in which ittook place. 

"My father's marriage was a romantic one. Visiting at Hitchin, he fellin love with his next door neighbour, a very pretty little Quakeress, dressed in the Quaker fashion of those days; her father was a very strictFriend, and was made very uneasy at the attentions of this London lover;but Mary was bright and vivacious, and encouraged him, and many were theinterviews contrived by the young couple. Their rooms were on the samefloor, though in different houses; my father, behind a piece offurniture, bored a hole through the dividing wall, and the lovers slippednotes backwards and forwards by this means. I am not aware that thesimple-hearted parents ever found it out. 

"But, at last, Mary was persuaded to leave her sheltered home and launchout into the world by his side. They were married in the north ofEngland, from her brother's house; the bridegroom sending from London, the day before the marriage, the dresses the little Quakeress was to robeherself in when she slipped out of her garb. The fit must have beengreatly left to chance!

"Being full of tact and of engaging manners, she proved an excellenthostess, and well fitted for the position she held. 

"My father died 20th February, 1880, aged 76, and was buried at Hitchin, beside my mother. He had long retired from business, and spent manyyears abroad on account of my mother's health. "

This pleasing sketch quite suggests the account given by Sterne of hisfather. There is a quaint, old-world air about it--and the traits arereally those of Mr. Pickwick in his later development. We could imaginethe latter at Dulwich examining and measuring his holly bushes. It wouldnot be too fanciful to suppose that Boz--constantly with him, dining withhim, and consulting him on every point--must have been impressed, andinfluenced too, by those amiable qualities, particularly by thatunaffected simplicity and good-will which is also so notable in his hero. So the figure stands thus--first, the long, thin man with Dry-as-dusttastes: then the short, round philanthropist, whose externals weresuggested by the Foster, of Richmond, the latter's "internals" beingtransferred to Tupman. Not only do "Vith and Visdom" go together, butalso "Vith" and good humour and benevolence, which Boz felt werenecessary adjuncts to such a physique. Where was he to find these? Now, we know how much Boz was inclined to draw from what was before his eyes. It saved him trouble and also set his imagination at work. The CheerybleBrothers, each a _Pickwick redivivus_, were taken from the GrantBrothers, merchants, at Manchester. And here he had this veryexceptional character daily before him, in the person of Edward Chapman. {84}

CHAPTER XII. THE CALVERLEY EXAMINATION PAPER

Few things have been more interesting to the Pickwickian, or have donemore to elevate Pickwickian study, than this celebrated _jeu d'esprit_. Calverley, or Blayds--his original name--was a brilliant creature, wellknown for his scholarship, verses, and sayings. He early obtained afellowship at Cambridge, and was one of the youngest "Dons. " Like Dr. Thomson, the celebrated Master, he is felt to be a characteristic and areal personage, even by those little familiar with his work or writings. He was, moreover, an ardent Pickwickian and thoroughly saturated with thespirit of the immortal book, to appreciate which a first-rate memory, which he possessed, is essential; for the details, allusions, names, suggestions, are so immense that they require to be present together inthe mind, and jostle each other out of recollection. In the 'fifties, there were at Cambridge a number of persons interested in the Book, whowere fond of quoting it and detecting oddities. It was in the year 1858or 1859--for, curious to say, the year cannot be fixed--that Calverleyconceived the _bizarre_ idea of offering a premium for the best answersto a series of searching examination questions, drawn from this classic. It was held at his own rooms at 7 o'clock in the evening, as Sir WalterBesant, one of the candidates, recalls it. There were about a dozenentered, the most formidable of whom were Skeat, the present professor ofAnglo-Saxon, a well-known Chaucerian scholar, and Sir Walter Besantaforesaid. The latter describes the scene in very dramatic fashion--theExaminer, in his gown, cap, and hood, gravely walking up and down duringthe two hours the examination lasted, going through the ceremonial withall the regular solemnity of the Senate House. The candidates, we aretold, expected a sort of jocose business, and were little prepared forthe "stiffness" of the questions which were of the deep and searchingkind they were accustomed to in the case of a Greek Play or a Latin Epic. Almost at once, three-fourths showed by their helpless bewilderment thatthe thing was beyond them; and the struggle lay between the twowell-versed Pickwickians--Besant and Skeat. The latter was known to havehis "Pickwick" at his fingers' ends, and Besant confessed that he had butsmall hopes of success. Both plodded steadily through the long list ofquestions. It should be said that the competition was open only tomembers of Christ Church College, which thus excluded the greatestreputed Pickwickian of them all, John Lempriere Hammond--the name, by theway, of the "creator" of Sam Weller on the stage. Besant went steadilythrough his list of questions to the end, revised his answers, and gothis paper ready for delivery, but Skeat worked on to the very lastmoment. An evening or two later, as they were going into Hall, Calverleypinned up his report on the board at the door just like one of the usualUniversity reports, and there was read the result:--

Besant . . . 1st Prize

Skeat . . . 2nd Prize

The authorities were not a little shocked at a liberty which assumed theaspect of a burlesque of their own proceedings, and Calverley was spokento gently by a Don of the older school. The paper of questions certainlyshows what ability may be brought to bear on so trifling a matter; forthere is really a power of analysis and a grasp of "inner meaning" thatis most remarkable. Sir Walter has very acutely commented on this little"exercise, " and has shown that it reached much higher than a mere jest. It brought out the extraordinary capacities of the book which haveexercised so many minds. For "The Pickwick Examination, " he says, "wasnot altogether a burlesque of a college examination; it was a very realand searching examination in a book which, brimful as it is of merriment, mirth, and wit, is just as intensely human as a book can be. Thecharacters are not puppets in a farce, stuck up only to be knocked down:they are men and women. Page after page, they show their true charactersand reveal themselves; they are consistent; even when they are mostabsurd they are most real; we learn to love them. It is a really serioustest paper; no one could answer any of it who had not read and re-readthe Pickwick Papers, and acquired, so to speak, a mastery of the subject. No one could do well in the examination who had not gone much furtherthan this and got to know the book almost by heart. It was a mostwonderful burlesque of the ordinary College and Senate House examination, considering the subject from every possible point of view. Especially isit rich in the department then dear to Cambridge: the explanation ofwords, phrases, and idioms. "

Some of these cruxes, Sir Walter tells us, could not be solved by theexaminer, and were laid before Boz himself, with a copy of the questions. Needless to say, Boz was infinitely amused, but, to the generaldisappointment, could or would give no information. The answer ofBrowning on a similar appeal is well known--he referred his questionersto the Browning Society, as knowing as much as he did on the point. Thereis no doubt that this is the true philosophy of the thing: that, once hisideas are in print, the author has no more to do with them or theirmeaning than anyone else has. The passages must speak for themselves;they are children sent into the world--helpless infants like thosePickwickian "expletives, let loose upon society. " Among theseunexplained things were "my Prooshan Blue" and "Old Nobs. " Sir Walter, with real Pickwickian sagacity, points to a true explanation which may beapplied in other cases. "Probably it was a phrase _which he had heard ina crowd_, and had never asked himself what it meant, " _i. E. _, it seemedappropriate, and what a person in such a case would use. This is in factpart of that "hallucination" of which G. H. Lewes spoke; the scene cameso completely before Boz that the words and phrases suggested themselvesto him and could not be denied, and he did not ask them to give anyaccount. This principle, however, does not hinder an amusing display ofspeculation. Mr. Andrew Lang's explanation of "My Prooshan Blue" iscertainly far fetched. He thinks it refers to a dreamy notion of GeorgeIV. , who, at one moment, thought of changing the British uniform to thePrussian Blue. Now, this was not known at the time, and came out yearslater. It had certainly not reached persons of the Weller class. Thetruth is that most of Sam's grotesque epithets, _e. G. _, "young Brokileysprout, " were the arbitrary coinage of a fantastic mind. This, too, asSir Walter said, "he may have heard in a crowd, " or in the mazes of hisown brain. "Old Nobs" is just as reasonable as Hamlet's "Old Truepenny. ""Are you there, Old Truepenny, " might have been said by Sam to hisfather, as Hamlet addressed it to _his_. 

CHAPTER XIII. PICKWICK IN REAL LIFE

I. --Dowler and John Forster

The truculent Dowler figured before in "The Tuggs at Ramsgate"--a veryamusing and Pickwickian tale--under the title of Capt. Waters, whoexhibits the same simulated ferocity and jealousy of his spouse. Cruickshank's sketch, too, of the Captain is like that of Dowler whenthrowing up the window in the Crescent. Mrs. Waters is made asattractive as Mrs. Dowler, and Cymon Tuggs, like Winkle, excites thejealousy of the husband. 

"Stop him, " roared Dowler, "hold him--keep him tight--shut him in till Icome down--I'll cut his throat--give me a knife--from ear to ear, Mrs. Craddock, I will. " And Captain Waters: "Ah! what do I see? Slaughter, your sabre--unhand me--the villain's life!"

In the same story we have an anticipation of another incident: theshutting up and detection of Pipkin in the cupboard, who is discovered bya pipe being required, just as young Tuggs was by his coughing from thetobacco smoke. Boz was partial to this method of discovery, for, at theclose, Snodgrass was thus concealed and shut up at Osborne's Hotel. Hisdetection, through the stupidity of the Fat Boy, is singularly naturaland original. 

Some of Dowler's dictatorial ways may have been suggested by Boz'sfriend, the redoubtable John Forster. There is one passage in the Bathchapters where we almost seem to hear our old friend speaking, when hetook command of his friends and introduced them, "My friend, Angelo CyrusBantam, Esquire, know each other. " "Bantam; Mr. Pickwick and his friendsare strangers. _They must put their names down_. _Where's the book_?"Then adds: "This is a long call. It's time to go; I shall be here againin an hour. _Come_. " And at the assembly he still continued hispatronage and direction of everybody. "Step in the tea-room--take yoursixpenn'orth. They lay on hot water and call it tea. Drink it, " saidMr. Dowler, _in a loud voice_, _directing Mr. Pickwick_. " Forster "allover. " We have heard him "direct" on many an occasion. When startingfrom the White Horse Cellars, Dowler, fancying that more passengers wereto be squeezed into the coach, said he would be d---d if there were; he'dbring an action against the company, and take a post chaise. 

II. --Thackeray

In Thackeray's "Newcomes, " the writer had some reminiscences of a placelike Eatanswill, for we are told of the rival newspapers, "The NewcomeIndependent" and "The Newcome Sentinel, " the former being edited by onePotts. These journals assailed each other like their brethren in"Pickwick. " "Is there any man in Newcome except, perhaps, our _twaddlingold contemporary_, _the Sentinel_, " &c. Doyle's picture of the electionis surely a reminiscence of Phiz's. There is the same fight between thebandsmen--the drum which someone is kicking a hole in, the brassinstrument used, placards, flags, and general _melee_. 

Doyle could sketch Forster admirably. Witness the drawing of thetravelling party in a carriage, given by Mr. Kitton in his wonderfulcollection, "Dickens, by pen and pencil, " where he has caught Forster's"magisterial" air to the life. The picture, "F. B. , " Fred Bayham in thestory, is certainly the figure of Forster (vol. Ii. , pp. 55 and 116. ) F. B. Is shown both as a critic and pressman, though he has nothing of J. F. 's domineering ways. Again, the waiter, speaking of Lord Highgate, said he was a _most harbitrary gent_. This refers to the memorable storyof Forster being summoned by the cabman who said he did so because "hewere such a harbitrary cove. " The truth was, Forster knew the distanceto a yard, and would tender the cabman his exact fare and no more. Once, dining with Forster at a hotel in the country where he had rooms, we litour cigars after dinner, on which the waiter remonstrated, saying it wasnot allowed. Then I knew the meaning of a "Harbitrary Cove. " How theirate Forster blew him up, roared at him, and drove him out, terrified!It was, indeed, Dowler threatening the coach proprietor. 

Thackeray would of course have known the story; he meant a sort of veiledallusion which had or had not a reference. We have the key to this sortof thing in the strange, uncomplimentary reference to Catherine Hayes, the murderess, but which was at once applied to an interesting andcelebrated Irish singer of the same name. The author must haveanticipated this, and, perhaps, chuckled over the public ignorance, butthe allusion was far-fetched. In the same fashion a dramatist once choseto dub one of his characters by my own rather unusual name, on which heprotested that he never dreamt of it, that others bore it; still he, however, was obliged to remove it. 

Again, on p. 55 we have this passage: "I was thirsty, having walked from"Jack Straw's Castle, " at Hampstead, where poor Kiteley and I had beentaking a chop. " This was written in 1855, only a few years afterForster's admirable performance of Kiteley with the other amateurs in"Every man in his humour. " "Jack Straw's Castle, " too, was a regularhaunt of Forster and Dickens. It is as certain as anything can be thatthis allusion was not an accidental one. 

III. --Tupman

Tupman's relations to Mr. Pickwick were somewhat peculiar; he waselderly--about Mr. Pickwick's age--whereas Winkle and Snodgrass wereyoung fellows under Mr. Pickwick's guardianship. Over them he couldexercise despotic authority; which he did, and secured obedience. It wasdifficult to do this in the case of his contemporary, Tupman, whonaturally resented being "sat upon. " In the incident of the _Fete_ atMrs. Leo Hunter's, and the Brigand's dress--"the two-inch tail, " Mr. Pickwick was rather insulting and injudicious, gibing at and ridiculinghis friend on the exhibition of his corpulence, so that Tupman, stung tofury, was about to assault him. Mr. Pickwick had to apologise, but it isclear the insult rankled; and it would appear that Tupman was neverafterwards much in the confidence of his leader, and, for that matter, inthe confidence of his author. Boz, either consciously or unconsciously, felt this. Tupman, too, never seems to have got over the figure he "cut"in the spinster aunt business, and the loss of general respect. 

Still he submitted to be taken about under Mr. Pickwick's patronage, butsoon the mutual irritation broke out. The occasion was the latter'sputting on speckled stockings for the dance at Manor Farm. "_You_ insilk stockings, " exclaimed Tupman, jocosely; a most natural, harmlessremark, considering that Mr. Pickwick invariably wore his gaiters atevening parties. But the remark was hotly resented, and challenged. "Yousee nothing extraordinary in the stockings _as_ stockings, I trust, sir?"Of course his friend said "No, certainly not, " which was the truth, butMr. Pickwick put aside the obvious meaning. Mr. Tupman "walked away, "wishing to avoid another altercation, afraid to trust himself; and Mr. Pickwick, proud of having once more "put him down, " assumed his"customary benign expression. " This did not promise well. 

In all the Manor Farm jollity, we hear little or nothing of Tupman, whoseems to have been thought a cypher. No doubt he felt that the girlscould never look at him without a smile--thinking of the spinster aunt. In the picture of the scene, we find this "old Buck" in the foreground, on one knee, trying to pickup a pocket handkerchief and holding a younglady by the hand. Snodgrass and his lady are behind; Winkle and hisArabella on the other side; Trundle and his lady at the fire. Then whowas Tupman's young woman? She is not mentioned in the text, yet isevidently a prominent personage--one of the family. At Ipswich, he wascrammed into the sedan chair with his leader--two very stoutgentlemen--which could not have increased their good humour, thoughTupman assisted him from within to stand up and address the mob. We aretold that "all Mr. Tupman's entreaties to have the lid of the vehicleclosed" were unattended to. He felt the ridicule of his position--asedan chair carried along, and a stout man speaking. This must haveproduced friction. Then there was the sense of injustice in beingcharged with aiding and abetting his leader, which Mr. Pickwick did notattempt to clear him from. When Mr. Pickwick fell through the ice, Tupman, instead of rendering help, ran off to Manor Farm with the news ofthe accident. 

Then the whole party went down to Bath and, during their stay there, wehave not a word of Tupman. He came to see his friend in the Fleet--withthe others of course. But now for the remarkable thing. On Mr. Pickwick's happy release and when every one was rejoining, Wardle invitedthe whole party to a family dinner at the Osborne. There were Snodgrass, Winkle, Perker even, but no Tupman! Winkle and his wife were at the"George and Vulture. " Why not send to Tupman as well. No one perhapsthought of him--he had taken no interest in the late exciting adventures, had not been of the least help to anybody--a selfish old bachelor. WhenMr. Pickwick had absented himself looking for his Dulwich house, it ispointed out with marked emphasis that certain folk--"among whom was Mr. Tupman"--maliciously suggested that he was busy looking for a wife!Neither Winkle nor Snodgrass started this hypothesis, but Tupman. He, however, was at Dulwich for Winkle's marriage, and had a seat on thePickwick coach. In later days, we learn that the Snodgrasses settledthemselves at Dingley Dell so as to be near the family--the Winkles, atDulwich, to be near Mr. Pickwick, both showing natural affection. Theselfish Tupman, thinking of nobody but himself, settled at Richmond wherehe showed himself on the Terrace with a youthful and jaunty air, "tryingto attract the elderly single ladies of condition. " All the others keptin contact with their chief, asking him to be godfather, &c. But we havenot a word of Tupman. It is likely, with natures such as his, that henever forgot the insulting remark about his corpulence. That is the waywith such vain creatures. 

Boz, I believe, had none of these speculations positively before him, buthe was led by the logic of his story. He had to follow his charactersand their development; they did not follow him. 

IV. --Grummer

This well drawn sketch of an ignorant, self-sufficient constable isadmirable. I have little doubt that one of the incidents in which hefigures was suggested to _Boz_ by a little adventure of Grimaldi's whichhe found in the mass of papers submitted to him, and which he worked upeffectively. A stupid and malicious old constable, known as "Old Lucas, "went to arrest the clown on an imaginary charge, as he was among hisfriends at the theatre. As in the case of Grummer, the friends, likeWinkle and Snodgrass, threatened the constable. The magistrate heard thecase, sentenced Grimaldi to pay 5s. Fine. Old Lucas, in hisdisappointment, arrested him again. Being attacked by Grimaldi, asGrummer was by Sam, he drew his staff and behaved outrageously. Themagistrate then, like Nupkins, had him placed in the dock, and sentenced. 

It has also been stated that Grummer was drawn from Towshend--thecelebrated Bow Street Runner again introduced in "Oliver Twist. " Towshendwas a privileged person, like Grummer, and gave his advice familiarly tothe magistrates. 

CHAPTER XIV. CHARACTERISTICS

I. --The Wardle Family

Here is a very pleasing and natural group of persons, in whom it isimpossible not to take a deep interest. They are like some amiablefamily that we have known. Old Wardle, as he is called, though he wasunder fifty, was a widower, and had remained so, quite content with hisdaughters' attachment. He had his worthy old mother to live with him, towhom he was most dutiful, tolerant, and affectionate. These two pointsrecommend him. There was no better son than Boz himself, so he couldappreciate these things. The sketch is interesting as a picture of thepatriarchal system that obtained in the country districts, all the familyforming one household, as in France. For here we have Wardle, hismother, and his sister, together with his two pleasing daughters, while, later on, his sons-in-law established themselves close by. The "poorrelations" seem to have been always there. It is astonishing how Boz, inhis short career, could have observed and noticed these things. Wardle'sfondness for his daughters is really charming, and displayed withoutaffectation. He connected them with the image of his lost wife. Thereis no more natural, truly affecting passage than his display offretfulness when he got some inkling that his second daughter was aboutto make a rather improvident marriage with young Snodgrass. The firsthad followed her inclinations in wedding Trundle--a not very goodmatch--but he did not lose her as the pair lived beside him. He thoughtEmily, however, a pretty girl who ought to do better, and he had his eyeon "a young gentleman in the neighbourhood"--and for some four or fivemonths past he had been pressing her to receive his addresses favourably. This was clearly a good match. Not that he would unduly press her, but"if she _could_, for I would never force a young girl's inclinations. " Henever thought, he says, that the Snodgrass business was serious. But, how natural that, when Arabella, their friend, had become a regularheroine and had gone off with her Winkle, that this should fill Emily'shead with similar thoughts, and set the pair on thinking that they werepersecuted, &c. What a natural scene is this between father anddaughter. 

 "My daughter Bella, Emily having gone to bed with a headache after she had read Arabella's letter to me, sat herself down by my side the other evening, and began to talk over this marriage affair. "Well, pa, " she says; "what do you think of it?" "Why, my dear, " I said; "I suppose it's all very well; I hope it's for the best. " I answered in this way because I was sitting before the fire at the time, drinking my grog rather thoughtfully, and I knew my throwing in an undecided word now and then would induce her to continue talking. Both my girls are pictures of their dear mother, and as I grow old I like to sit with only them by me; for their voices and looks carry me back to the happiest period of my life, and make me, for the moment, as young as I used to be then, though not quite so light-hearted. "It's quite a marriage of affection, pa, " said Bella, after a short silence. "Yes, my dear, " said I; "but such marriages do not always turn out the happiest. " "I am sorry to hear you express your opinion against marriages of affection, pa, " said Bella, colouring a little. "I was wrong; I ought not to have said so, my dear, either, " said I patting her cheek as kindly as a rough old fellow like me could do it, "for your mother's was one and so was yours. " "It's not that, I meant, pa, " said Bella. "The fact is, pa, I wanted to speak to you about Emily. " The long and the short of it is, then, that Bella at last mustered up courage to tell me that Emily was unhappy; that she and your young friend Snodgrass had been in constant correspondence and communication ever since last Christmas; that she had very dutifully made up her mind to run away with him, in laudable imitation of her old friend and schoolfellow. 

Another member of this pleasant household was "The Fat Boy. " There isnothing humorous or farcical in the mere physical exhibition of a fatperson, _qua_ his fat. It was, indeed, the fashion of the day--and onthe stage particularly--to assume that fatness was associated withsomething comic. There are a number of stout persons in Pickwick--thehero himself, Tupman, old Weller, and all the coachmen, the turnkeys, Slammer, Wardle, Fat Boy, Nupkin's cook, Grummer, Buzfuz, Mrs. Weller, Mr. Bagman's uncle, and others. Thackeray attempted to work with thiselement in the case of Jos Sedley, and his fatness had a very closeconnection with his character. But, in the case of Boz, his aim was muchmore intellectual and, as it were, refined. For his object was to showwhat was a fat person's view of this world, as seen through the medium ofFat. The Fat Boy is not a selfish, sensual being by nature--he is reallyhelpless, and the creature of necessity who is forced by his bulk to takea certain _fat_ view of everything round him. " If we reflect on it weshall see how clearly this is carried out. It is curious that, in theinstance of the Fat Boy, Boz should have repeated or duplicated asituation, and yet contrived to impart such varied treatment, but Isuspect no one has ever noticed the point. Joe, it will be remembered, witnessed the proceedings in the arbour, when Mr. Tupman declared hispassion for the spinster aunt, and the subsequent embracing--to the greatembarrassment of the pair. At the close of the story he also intruded onanother happy pair--Mr. Snodgrass and his _inamorata_--at a similardelicate moment. Yet in the treatment, how different--"_I wants to makeyer flesh creep_!"--his taking the old lady into confidence; and then hewas pronounced by his master, Wardle, to be under some delusion--"let meat him"--&c. , so his story and report led him into a scrape. When heintruded on the pair at Osborne's Hotel, and Snodgrass was, later, shutup there, again he was made the scapegoat, and Wardle insisted that hewas drunk, &c. So here were the incidents repeating themselves. 

II. --Shooting, Riding, Driving, etc. 

Boz declared in one of his Prefaces that he was so ignorant of countrysports, that he could not attempt to deal with them in a story. Notwithstanding this protest, he has given us a couple of shooting sceneswhich show much experience of that form of field sports. There is a toneof sympathy and freshness, a keen enjoyment of going forth in themorning, which proves that he himself had taken part in such things. Rook-shooting was then an enjoyable sport, and Boz was probably thinking ofthe rooks at Cobham, where he had no doubt hovered round the party when alad. As we know, Mr. Tupman, who was a mere looker-on, was "peppered" byhis friend Winkle, a difficult thing to understand, as Winkle must havebeen firing high into the trees, and if he hit his friend at all, wouldhave done so with much more severity. The persons who were in seriousdanger from Mr. Winkle's gun were the boys in the trees, and we maywonder that one, at least, was not shot dead. But the whole is sopleasantly described as to give one a perfect _envie_ to go out and shootrooks. There are some delightful touches, such as Mr. Pickwick's alarmabout the climbing boys, "for he was not quite certain that the distressin the agricultural interest, might not have compelled the small boysattached to the soil to earn a precarious and hazardous existence bymaking marks of themselves for inexperienced sportsmen. " And again, "theboy shouted and shook a branch with a nest on it. _Half-a-dozen youngrooks in violent conversation flew out to ask what the matter was_. " Doesnot this bring the whole scene before us. 

The other shooting scene is near Bury St. Edmunds--on Sir GeoffreyManning's grounds--on September 1st, 1830, or 1827, whichever Bozpleases, when "many a young partridge who strutted complacently among thestubble with all his finical coxcombry of youth, and many an older onewho watched his levity out of his little, round eye with the contemptuousair of a bird of wisdom and experience, alike unconscious of theirapproaching doom, basked in the fresh morning air with lively andblithesome feelings, and, a few hours later, were laid low upon theearth. " Here we have the beginning of that delightful fashion ofDickens's, which he later carried to such perfection, of associatinghuman feelings and associations with the animal creation, and alsoinanimate objects. 

Everything connected with "the shooting" is admirably touched: The old, experienced "shot, " Wardle; the keepers and their boys; the dogs; thesham amateurs; the carrying of the guns "reversed arms, like privates ata funeral. " Mr. Winkle "flashed and blazed and smoked away withoutproducing any material results; at one time expending his charge in mid-air, and at others sending it skimming along so near the surface of theground as to place the lives of the two dogs on a rather uncertain andprecarious tenure. 'What's the matter with the dogs' legs? How _queer_they're standing!' whispered Mr. Winkle. 'Hush, can't you! Don't yousee they are making a point?' said Wardle. 'Making a point?' said Mr. Winkle, glaring about him, as if he expected to discern some particularbeauty in the landscape which the sagacious animals were calling specialattention to. 'What are they pointing at?' 'Keep your eyes open, ' saidWardle, not heeding the question in the excitement of the moment. 'Nowthen. '" How natural and humorous is all this. 

This was partridge shooting, "old style"--delightful and inspiriting, asall have felt who have shared in it. Now we have "drives" on a vastscale; then you would follow the birds from field to field "marking themdown. " I myself with an urchin, a dog, and a single-barrelled old gunhave thus followed a few precious birds from field to field all the dayand secured them at the last. That was true enjoyment. 

III. --Horses and Driving in "Pickwick. "

For one who so modestly disclaimed all knowledge of sporting and countrytastes, Boz shows a very familiar acquaintance with horses and theirways. He has introduced a number of these animals whose points are alldistinctly emphasized: a number of persons are shown to be interested inhorses, who exhibit their knowledge of and sympathise with the animals, aknowledge and sympathy which is but a reflection of his own. The cunninghand that could so discriminate between shades of humorous characterswould not be at a loss to analyse traits of equine nature. There is thecab horse, said to be forty years old and kept in the shafts for two orthree weeks at a time, which is depicted in Seymour's plate. Howexcellently drawn are the two Rochester steeds: one "an immense brownhorse, displaying great symmetry of bone, " which was to be driven by Mr. Pickwick, and Mr. Winkle's riding animal, another immense horse"apparently a near relative of the animal in the chaise. " "He don't shy, does he?" The ostler guaranteed him quiet--"a hinfant in arms mightdrive him"--"He wouldn't shy if he met a whole waggon-load of monkeyswith their tails burnt off. " A far more original illustration thananything used by the Wellers, whose special form that was. I pass overthe details of the driving and the riding which show a perfect knowledgeof animals, such as "the tall quadruped. " Nothing is more droll than thedescription of the loathing with which the party came to regard theanimal they were compelled to lead about all day. Then we have the posthorses and all connected with them. There is Tom Smart's "vixenishmare, " quite an intelligent character in her way. The account of thecoach drive down to Muggleton shows admirable observation of the ways ofthe drivers. 

Ben Allen's aunt had her private fly, painted a sad green colour drawn bya "chubby sort of brown horse. " I pass over the ghostly mailcoach horsesthat flew through the night in "The Story of the Bagman's Uncle, " flowing-maned, black horses. There are many post horses figuring in Mr. Pickwick's journey from Bristol to Birmingham and thence home; horses inthe rain and out of it. 

Namby's horse was "a bay, a well-looking animal enough, but withsomething of a flash and dog-fighting air about him. " The horses whichtook the hackney coach to the Fleet jolted along as hackney coachesusually do. "The horses 'went better, ' the driver said, 'when they hadanything before them. ' They must have gone at a most extraordinary pacewhen there was nothing. " Visiting the Fleet with Mrs. Weller and thedeputy Shepherd, Mr. Weller drove up from Dorking with the old piebald inhis chaise cart, which, after long delay, was brought out for the returnjourney. "If he stands at livery much longer he'll stand at nothin' aswe go back. " There is a capital scene at the opening of Chapter XLVI. , when the "cabrioilet" was drawing up at Mrs. Bardell's, and where so muchthat is dramatic is "got out" of such a simple incident between thecontending directions. 

IV. --Mr. Pickwick in Silk Stockings. 

How well Boz knew how to touch the chords of human character--a powerthat certainly needs long experience to work--is shown by the scene atWardle's dance, where Mr. Pickwick is nettled by Tupman's remarking thathe was wearing "pumps" for the first time. "_You_ in silk stockings, "said that gentleman. Mr. Pickwick had just called attention to thechange which he considered a sort of public event to be admired by all. "See this great man condescending to our frivolous tastes, " and his hosthad noted it in a flattering way. "You mean to dance?" But Tupman didnot look at it in this respectful way--he made a joke of it! "_You_ insilk stockings. " This was insolent to the grave, great man andphilosopher, so he turned sharply on his familiar: "And why not, sir--whynot?" This with warmth. The foolish Tupman, still inclined to bejocose, said, "Oh, of course, there is no reason why you shouldn't wearthem"--a most awkward speech--as who should say, "This is a freecountry--a man can wear a night cap in public if he chooses. " "I imaginenot, sir--I imagine not, " said Mr. Pickwick, in a _very peremptory_ tone. Mr. Tupman had contemplated a laugh, but he found it was a seriousmatter, so he looked grave, and said _they were a pretty pattern_. Hownatural is all this! And still more so his leader's reply. "I hope theyare, " he said, fixing his eyes upon his friend, "You see nothingextraordinary in the stockings, _as_ stockings, I trust, sir. " Thefrightened Tupman said, "Certainly not, Oh, certainly not, " and walkedaway. Mr. Pickwick's face resumed its customary benign expression. Thislittle picture of weakness in an eminent man is characteristic. Forobserve, when Tupman showed the folly of wearing a "two inch tail" to thebrigand's coat, Mr. Pickwick was furious, told him he was too old and toofat; but when someone remarks on _his_ silk stockings he gets deeplyoffended. His vanity is touched, there should have been no remark, or, at least, only of admiration. He was, in fact, one of those flatteredand spoiled personages who cannot see any harm in their doing what theyreprove in others. Many a really great character is weak in thisdirection. Observe the disingenuousness of the great man; he knew, perfectly, that Tupman noticed nothing odd in the stockings, "_as_stockings, " he meant the oddity of his wearing them at all, and he hadsaid so, plainly. But, ignoring this, the great man chose to assume thathe was insolently reflecting on their pattern as outlandish. With hisdespotic pressure, he forced him to say they were of a "pretty pattern, "and thus vindicated his authority. 

V. --Violent Assaults, Shooting, &c

Duelling, imprisonment for debt, intoxication, elopements, are, perhaps, the most striking social incidents in "Pickwick" that have disappearedand become all but antiquarian in their character. Yet another, almostas curious, was the ready recourse to physical force or violence--fisticcorrection as it might be termed. A gentleman of quiet, restrainedhabit, like Mr. Pickwick, was prepared, in case of call, either tothreaten or execute summary chastisement on anyone who offended him. Thepolice or magistrates seemed not to have been thought of, for the victimwould not think of appealing to either--all which seems strange to usnowadays. At the Review even, the soldiers coolly overthrew Mr. Pickwickand his friends who had got in their way. Winkle was maltreated soseverely that the blood streamed from his nose; this would not now betolerated. When Jingle affronted the great man by calling his friend"Tuppy, " Mr. Pickwick, we are told, "hurled the inkstand madly forwardand followed it up himself. " This hurling of things at offenders was acommon incident, particularly in quarrels at table, when the decanter wasfrequently so used, or a glass of wine thrown in the face. After theadventure at the Boarding School, Mr. Pickwick "indented his pillow witha tremendous blow, " and announced that, if he met Jingle again, he would"inflict personal chastisement on him"; while Sam declared that he wouldbring "real water" into Job's eyes. Old Lobbs, in the story, was goingto throttle Pipkin. Mrs. Potts insisted that the editor of _TheIndependent_ should be horsewhipped. More extraordinary still, oldWeller, at a quiet tea-meeting, assaulted the Shepherd, giving him "twoor three for himself, and two or three more to hand over to the man withthe red nose. " Everyone set themselves right in this way and, it isclear, knew how to use their "bunch of fives. " Nor were there anysummonses or police courts afterwards; the incident was closed. Sam, attempting to rescue his master at Ipswich, knocked down the "specials"right and left, knocking down some for others to lie upon, yet he wasonly fined two pounds for the first assault and three for the second--nowhe would have been sent to jail under a severe sentence. Mrs. Raddleinsisted that her husband should get up and knock every one of the guestsdown stairs, while Jack Hopkins offered to go upstairs and "pitch intothe landlord. " At the Brick Lane meeting, Brother Stiggins, intoxicated, knocked Brother Tadger down the stairs, while old Weller violentlyassaulted Stiggins. At Bath, Dowler hunted Winkle round the Crescent, threatening to cut his throat; and at Bristol, when the terrified Winkletried to ring the bell, Dowler fancied that he was going to strike him. At Bristol, Ben Allen flourished the poker, threatening his sister'srival, and when Mr. Pickwick sent Sam to capture Winkle, he instructedhim to knock him down even, if he resisted; this direction was given withall seriousness. "If he attempts to run away from you, _knock him down_, or lock him up, you have my full authority, Sam. " The despotism of thisamiable man was truly extraordinary, he ruled his "followers" with a rodof iron. That such should be exercised, or accepted even by the reader, is a note of the time. It was, however, only a logical consequence ofthe other summary methods. 

The altercation between Mr. Pickwick and his other "follower, " Tupman, arising out of the "two-inch tail" question, was on the same lines. Forthe affront of being called fat and old the latter scientifically turnedup his cuffs and announced that he would inflict summary chastisement onhis leader. Mr. Pickwick met him with a cordial "come on, " throwinghimself into a pugilistic attitude, supposed by the two bystanders tohave been intended as a posture of defence. This seems to have beenaccepted as a natural incident, though it was deprecated. In the FleetPrison, when Mr. Pickwick's nightcap was snatched off, he retorted with asmart blow, and again invited everyone, "all of you, " to "come on. " Whenthe coachmen attended Sam to the Fleet, walking eight abreast, they hadto leave behind one of the party "to fight a ticket porter, it beingarranged that his friends should call for him as they came back. " Evenin a moment of agitation--as when Ben Allen learned that his sister had"bolted, " his impulse was to rush at Martin the groom and throttle him;the latter, in return, "felling the medical student to the ground. " Thenwe have the extraordinary and realistic combat between Pott and Slurk inthe kitchen of the "Saracen's Head, " Towcester--the one armed with ashovel, the other with a carpet bag--and old Weller's chastisement ofStiggins. In short, this system of chastisement on the spot, it isclear, was a necessary equipment, and everybody, high and low, wasunderstood to be ready to secure satisfaction for himself by the aid ofviolence. No doubt this was a consequence of the duel which was, ofcourse, to be had recourse to only as the last resort. 

When the wretched Jingle, and the still more wretched Job met Mr. Pickwick in the Fleet, and the latter, giving money, had said, "Takethat, sir, " the author adds, "Take what? . . . As the world runs, itought to have been a sound, hearty cuff, for Mr. Pickwick had been duped, deceived, &c. " Thus, Boz thought, as of course, that this was thesuitable method of treatment in such cases. "Must we tell the truth?" hegoes on; "it was a piece of money. " The unconsciousness of all this isvery striking. 

VI. --Winkle and Snodgrass

It has always seemed a matter of astonishment to me how such a creatureas Winkle should have won the fair Arabella. Every act of this man was adeception--he could not help pretence, or, shall we say it boldly, lying. His duel was a series of tricks--his shooting, skating, etc. , all a sham. Even when found out as an impostor before all the keepers and others, wefind him impudently saying, "I'll tell you what I shall do _to get up myshooting again_. " The fellow never had any shooting to get up. But themere habit of untruth was ingrained in the man. His undignified race, ina dressing-gown, round the Crescent was no doubt concealed fromArabella--she would never have got over that! As a display of cowardiceit was only matched by his hypocritical assumption of courage beforeDowler when he found he could assume it safely. He deceived his fatherand Mr. Pickwick as to his marriage, and dropped on his knees to thelatter to beg pardon. How mean, too, was his behaviour to Mrs. Pott inthe difficulty with her husband. But nothing could shake the interest ofthe fair Arabella in her lover, even his ignominious and public treatmentby Mr. Pickwick at the skating exhibition. How _can_ we account for it. But Boz knew the female nature well, and here is the explanation: Winklehad been "out"--had figured in a duel with a real officer in the army. There was no mistake about _that_--gone out, too, in what appeared achivalrous manner to save the honour of the club. At least it had theappearance of all that (though here was another falsehood). This hadbeen told to all--no doubt by Winkle himself--many times over. Nothingcould enfeeble that, it seemed heroic, and covered all other _laches_. Neither did it lose in _his_ telling of it. 

The most ridiculous feature surely in the man was his costume--meant tobe of a sporting complexion--which he never abandoned: green shootingcoat, plaid neckchief, and closely fitting drabs. When he returned fromhis honeymoon, he was still in this uniform. 

We may assume, however, that this points to a custom of the time: thatthe sportsman was _always_ a sportsman. Even at the club meeting, at apoorish room in a tavern, he must carry on the fiction that he has justcome back from a day's sporting, for there on the floor, conspicuous, arethe fowling piece, game bag, fishing rod, &c. 

Snodgrass was another incapable and quite uninteresting--a person whom wewould not care to know. He posed as a poet and, to this end, wore, evenat the club, "a mysterious blue cloak, with a canine skin collar";imagine this of a warm evening--May 12--in a stuffy room in Huggin Lane!He must, however, live up to his character, at all hazards. 

Snodgrass and his verses, and his perpetual "note book, " must have madehim a bore of the first water. How could the charming Emily haveselected him. He, too, had some of Winkle's craft. He had beenentertained cordially and hospitably by old Wardle, and repaid him bystealing his daughter's affections in a very underhand way, actuallyplotting to run away with her. 

There was something rather ignominious in his detection at Osborne'sHotel. He is a very colourless being. As to his being a Poet, it wouldseem to be that he merely gave himself out for one and persuaded hisfriends that he was such. His remarks at the "Peacock" are trulysapient: "Show me the man that says anything against women, as women, and_I boldly declare he is not a man_!" Which is matched by Mr. Winkle'sanswer to the charge of his being "a serpent": "Prove it, " said Mr. Winkle, warmly. It is to be suspected that the marriage with the amiableEmily was not a success. The author throws out a hint to that effect:"Mr Snodgrass, being occasionally abstracted and melancholy, is to thisday reputed a great poet among his acquaintance, though we do not find hehas ever written anything to encourage the belief. " In other words hewas carrying on the old Pickwick game of "Humbug. " So great an intellecthad quite thrown itself away on poor Emily--even his abstraction andmelancholy. How natural too that he should "hang on" to his father-in-law "and establish himself close to Dingly Dell"--to "sponge, "probably--while he made a sham of farming; for are we not told that hepurchased and cultivated a small farm--"_more for occupation thanprofit_"--thus again making believe. Poor Emily!

I lately looked through the swollen pages of the monster London Directoryto find how many of the Pickwickian names were in common use. There wasnot a single Snodgrass, though there was one Winkel, and one "Winkle andCo. " in St. Mary Axe. There was one Tupman, a Court dressmaker--noNupkins, but some twenty Magnuses, and not a single Pickwick. Therewere, however, some twenty-four Wellers. 

CHAPTER XV. --DULWICH

I. --Mr. Pickwick's Diversions

Mr. Pickwick, as we know, retired to end his days at peacefulDulwich--placid and tranquil as his own amiable heart. It is as certainas though we had been living there and had seen all that was going on, that he became universally popular, and quite a personage in the place. Everyone was sure to meet him taking his afternoon walk along the rurallanes, or making his way to the Greyhound, where he was often found of anevening--possibly every evening. This Greyhound, an old-fashioned andsomewhat antique house, though not mentioned in the story, is linked toit by implication; for to settle at Dulwich and ignore the Greyhound wasa thing that could not be. There is a Pickwickian tone--or was, rather, for it is now levelled--about the place, and Boz himself used to frequentit, belonging to a sort of dining club that met down there. 

Such a paper as say the _Dulwich Observer_ would make much account of aman like Mr. Pickwick; all his movements would be chronicled, and anyonethat chooses to bid Sarah or Mary "bring up the file for the year of Mr. Pickwick's residence, " must find innumerable entries. Let us supply afew of these imaginative extracts:

MR. PICKWICK AT THE OPENING OF THE DULWICH LITERARY AND SCIENTIFICASSOCIATION. 

 A meeting of this admirable and thriving society--which, as our readers know, was founded by Mr. Pickwick--was held on Saturday, at the Greyhound Inn, where this learned and popular gentleman read a special paper on Ralph Alleyne and his celebrated college at Dulwich. There was a large attendance. Mr. Pickwick stated that he had long been making researches into the Alleyne pedigree, and had made an astonishing discovery--Alleyne, he found, was the family of the Allens! A very dear and intimate friend of his own--a high member of the medical profession--with whom he had spent some of the pleasantest hours of his whole life, and who was now following his practice in India, also bore the name of Allen--Benjamin Allen! It will be said that there was not much in this; there were many Allens about, and, in the world generally (loud laughter); but what will be said when, on carelessly turning over the old rate-books, he came on this startling fact? That at the beginning of the century his old friend's grandfather actually occupied a small house on Tulse Hill, not five minutes' walk from the college (loud applause). He saw, they saw the significance of this. Following up the clue, he next found that this gentleman was a person of literary tastes--and, mark this, often went into town to scientific meetings and to the theatres (loud applause). Further, he had discovered one or two very "oldest inhabitants" (a laugh) who had known this very Benjamin Allen, the grandfather, and who could not recall anything precise about him: but all agreed, and they should further mark this, that he had the air and bearing of a man of theatrical tastes, and that "it was as likely as not"--to use their very words--"that he belonged to the family of Ralph Allen" (applause). The learned gentleman then proceeded to work out his clever theory with much ingenuity, and, at the end, left "not a shadow of a shade of a doubt" in the minds of his hearers in general, and in his own mind in particular, that this Dr. Benjamin Allen--of the East Indies--was the lineal descendant of our own Ralph Allen. We have, however, with regret to add, that this evening did not pass over so harmoniously as it could be desired. As soon as Mr. Pickwick had sat down and discussion was invited--Mr. Pickwick, however, saying that there was really nothing to discuss, as no one knew the facts but himself--a visitor from Town, who had been introduced at his own request by one of the members, stood up, will it be believed, to _attack_ Mr. Pickwick and his paper! It transpired that this intruder's name was Blotton, a person in the haberdashery line, and that he came from somewhere in the neighbourhood of Huggin Lane. He said that all they had been listening to was simple moonshine. (_No_! _No_!) But Yes! Yes! Had they ever heard of a river in Monmouth and another in Macedon? There was an Allen some hundred years ago--and a Ben Allen now alive in India. What rubbish was this? ("_Shame_" cries of "_put him out_"). Where was the connection, he asked. Some old dotard or dodderer, they were told, said so. The doddering in the case was not confined to that individual. Here Mr. Pickwick rose, and, with much heat, told the intruder to sit down. He would not hear him; he ought to be ashamed of himself. "Would you believe it, " went on Mr. Pickwick, "this is a person who was actually _expelled_--yes, expelled--from a club--the well-known Pickwick Club of which I was the founder. Let him deny it if he dare. " Here the individual called out "Bill Stumps! Tell 'em about that. " "I will not tell 'em, sir, " said Mr. Pickwick, warmly; "they know it too well. It shall be known as long as my name is known and when this person is consigned to the gutter whence he came. " "It's all Humbug, " said Mr. Blotton, "humbug you were and humbug you ever will be. " Here Dr. Pettigrew, our excellent local practitioner, interposed, "Gentlemen, gentlemen, " he said; "is this to go on; are we to listen to this low abuse?" A number of persons closing round Blotton succeeded in ejecting him from the room, and this truly painful incident closed. 

VISITORS AT THE DELL. 

 During the past week, Mr. Pickwick has been entertaining a series of visitors--among others, Mr. Wardle, of Manor Farm, Muggleton, Kent, with Miss Wardle, his sister--the heroine of a most romantic story communicated to us by Mr. Weller, though we are not privileged to lift the veil from this interesting episode. But suffice it to say that it comprised an elopement and exciting chase, in which Mr. Pickwick, with his usual gallantry, took part. The estrangement which necessarily followed between brother and sister has long since been happily healed. Mr. Perker, the eminent London solicitor--Mr. Pickwick's "guide, philosopher and friend"--has also been staying at the Dell. 

HUMOROUS ADVENTURE. 

 Our readers will be entertained by the following droll contretemps which befel our deservedly popular fellow-citizen, as we may call him, Mr. Pickwick. As our readers know, the Annual Charity Dinner took place at the Greyhound, on Tuesday, Mr. Pickwick being in the chair, and making many of his happiest speeches during the course of which he related many curious details about himself and his life. The party did not break up till a late hour--nearly eleven o'clock. A fly--a special one, as usual--had been retained to take Mr. Pickwick home, but as the trusted Hobson, who invariably attends Mr. Pickwick on such occasions, had another engagement, a stranger was procured from Camberwell. Mr. Pickwick was placed in the vehicle not, as he says, without misgivings, and, as he admits, fell fast asleep. He was driven home--as he fancied. On arriving, the coachman had much difficulty in making himself heard. Mr. Pickwick entered the house, still scarcely aroused, and turning into the study, sank into an armchair, and once more fell into a slumber. He was presently aroused, he says, by voices, and found himself surrounded by strange faces and figures in various states of _deshabille_. The head of the house, the well-known Mr. Gibson, who had been roused from his slumbers, on the maid, Mary Perkes, giving the alarm that robbers were in the house, had rushed down in his trousers only; the man-servant ditto; the young ladies in anything they could find. Mr. Pickwick describes his alarm as he found these faces round him, and, not unnaturally, conceived the idea that robbers had broken into _his_ house, and that his was in their power! A humorous imbroglio followed. He instantly rushed to secure the poker, and, flourishing it round his head, cried out repeatedly, "Keep off! every one of you! or I'll brain the first man that comes near me!" Fortunately, the respected man-servant, who had been many years with Mr. Gibson, and had met Mr. Weller, at once recognized Mr. Weller's master, and said: "Why, its Mr. Pickwick! ain't it? Don't you know _this_ ain't your own house, sir. " The truth then all flashed upon him. Mr. Pickwick relates that he became so tickled with the odd humour of his situation that he fell into his chair in convulsions of laughter, and laughed long and loudly, for many minutes. The more he laughed, the more Mr. Gibson laughed. At last, all was explained, and the amusing scene ended by a room being hastily got ready for Mr. Pickwick (for the cabman had gone away). No one was more amused, or indeed, more pleased, at these "mistakes of a night" than Mr. Gibson, who always tells the story with infinite drollery. Mr. Pickwick takes all the blame on himself, declaring, as he says his old friend Winkle used to say: "_It wasn't the wine_, _but the salmon_. "

ATTEMPTED ROBBERY AT MR. PICKWICK'S HOUSE. 

 Last night, we are sorry to learn, a very daring attempt was made to rob the mansion of our much esteemed resident, Mr. Pickwick. The Dell, as our readers know, is a substantial dwelling-house, standing in its own grounds, and comparatively unprotected. The family, consists of the owner, his housekeeper, Mrs. Purdy, and his faithful servant, Mr. Samuel Weller, whose pleasant humour is well-known, and who is deservedly popular in Dulwich. Nothing was noticed until about two o'clock in the morning, when, as Mr. Weller has informed us, he was awakened by a low, grinding sound, which, in his quaint style, he says reminded him "a fellow in _quad_ a-filing his irons. " With much promptitude he rose and, loosening the dog, proceeded in the direction of the sounds; the villains, however, became alarmed, and Mr. Weller was just in time to see them, as he says, "a-cuttin' their lucky" over the garden wall. Much sympathy is expressed for the worthy and deservedly esteemed Mr. Pickwick, and for the outrage done to his feelings. 

FETE AT MR. PICKWICK'S. 

 On Thursday last, this amiable and always benevolent gentleman, who, it is known, takes the deepest interest in the stage, invited all the brethren of the college to a dinner, after which, he threw open his grounds to all his acquaintances, indeed, to all Dulwich. The banquet was of a sumptuous character, and was provided from the Greyhound. After the usual loyal toasts, the warden proposed Mr. Pickwick's health in appropriate terms, to which that gentleman responded in an admirable speech, in which he reviewed some portions of his life. After stating how dear and near to his affection was the college and all that was concerned with it, he entered into some various details of Ralph Alleyne, who, as we all know, was an actor and connected with actors. "I have already, by means of my researches, shown how strangely related he was to myself, being of the same family with an eminent physician in India, Mr. Benjamin Allen. (Cheers. ) I, myself, have known actors--one who was known to his brethren as 'dismal Jemmy'--(loud laughter)--from, I suppose, the caste of characters he was always assuming. Dismal Jemmy, however, had to leave the country--(laughter)--I will not say why. " (Roars of laughter. ) Another actor whom he had known was one of the most remarkable men he had ever met, for talent and resources--would that he had confined his talent to its legitimate sphere, namely, on the _boards_--but, unfortunately, he had chosen to exert it at his, Mr. Pickwick's, expense. (Loud laughter. ) This performer tried to live by his wits, as it is called, and he, Mr. Pickwick, had encountered him, and his wits, too and nearly always with success. Mr. Pickwick then humorously described some of his adventures with this person, causing roars of laughter by a description of a night in the garden of a Boarding School, into which he had been entrapped on the pretext that the actor was about to run away with one of the young ladies. In the most comic fashion, he related how he had been captured by the whole school, headed by its principal, and locked up in a cupboard, and was only released by his faithful man, Sam, whom, personally, some of them knew--(loud applause. ) Well, after frustrating the knavish tricks of this actor, he at last found him in a debtors' prison in the most abject misery and destitution, and he was happy to tell them, that the man was completely reformed, and getting an honest livelihood in one of our colonies. Such was his experience of the actors' profession. 

MARRIAGE IN HIGH LIFE AT IPSWICH. 

 An interesting event, in which our esteemed fellow-citizen, Mr. Pickwick, has taken a deep interest, took place at the historic town of Ipswich, when Mr. Sidney Porkenham, eldest son of --- Porkenham, Esq. , led to the altar at St. Clement's Church, Henrietta, the beautiful and accomplished daughter of --- Nupkins, Esq. , late Mayor of that city. Among the guests were J. Grigg, Esq. , Mrs. And the Misses Grigg, Mr. And Mrs. Slummin Towken and Mr. Slummin Towken, jun, --- Jinks, Esq. , and many more. Mr. Pickwick had intended to be present and had already promised to stay with Mr. Nupkins, but was prevented by illness. His present to the bride, a costly one and in exquisite taste, was purchased at Micklethwaite's, High Street, Camberwell, where it was exhibited and excited universal admiration. It consisted of a watch and curb chain of the finest workmanship, for Mr. Pickwick placed no limit on Micklethwaite. We understand that at a recent dinner at Mr. Humberstone, our esteemed rector's, Mr. Pickwick, after alluding to Miss Nupkins and the coming marriage, literally convulsed the party by relating his famous adventure at the Great White Horse, which he tells in the raciest style, and how it led to his being led off prisoner, and brought before his friend, Mr. Nupkins, then Mayor of Ipswich. At the close he became a little pensive. "Ah! poor Peter Magnus! and Miss W---, sorry! I'm sorry, very. " Our Rector has often "chaffed" this worthy gentleman on his midnight adventure, saying, waggishly, "there was more in it than met the eye. " We have seen Mr. Pickwick smile, and he would say, "well, sir, she was a fine woman, a very fine woman, and I'm not going to kiss and tell. "

MR. PICKWICK AT DULWICH POLICE COURT. 

 Thomas Bardell, aged 19, was charged before His Worship, with extorting money under false pretences from Mr. Pickwick. It appears from the gentleman's evidence, which he gave with great fulness, that, many years ago, a woman of the name of Bardell, a lodging-house keeper, brought an unfounded action against Mr. Pickwick, and obtained damages which Mr. Pickwick refused to pay, preferring to go to the Fleet Prison. This person had a son, then a mere child, who was the prisoner. A week ago, Mr. Pickwick received a piteous letter, signed Tommy Bardell, saying that his mother was dying, and in the deepest distress, all their furniture sold, or pawned. After making some inquiries, and finding that there was a woman in distress at the place, Mr. Pickwick sent the prisoner two sovereigns. Within a fortnight he received a second application, saying that the unhappy woman's bed was being taken away, &c. ; he sent another sovereign. When he received a third application he thought it high time to put it into the hands of his man, Sam Weller, who made enquiries and found out there was no mother, Mrs. Bardell being long, long since dead. His worship committed him to jail for six months as a vagabond, but, at Mr. Pickwick's request, reduced his sentence to two months. 

II. --Mr. Pickwick's Funeral. 

 The funeral _cortege_ left the Dell at ten o'clock, and was one of the most striking displays of public feeling that Dulwich has seen for many years. And not only was Dulwich thus affected, but in Camberwell all the numerous shops were closed, and the inhabitants turned out in crowds. The procession comprised many mourning coaches containing all Mr. Pickwick's oldest friends. He had survived all his relations. Among the mourners were Mr. Wardle, of Dingley Dell, with his son-in- law, --- Trundle, Esq. ; Mr. Tupman, who travelled specially from Richmond; Messrs. Winkle and Snodgrass, who had been his inseparable companions in his famous tours; and --- Perker, Esq. , who was the deceased's legal adviser and confidential friend. An interesting incident was the appearance among the mourners of an elderly gentleman, Mr. Peter Magnus, between whom and Mr. Pickwick, as we learn from his faithful servant, there had for many years been a cloud or misunderstanding on account of some lady whose marriage with Mr. Magnus Mr. Pickwick had unwittingly frustrated. This injury, if injury there was, Mr. Magnus had buried in the grave, and had rushed to Dulwich to lend his heartfelt sympathy. Such things go far to reconcile one to human nature, if such reconcilement be incumbent. A deputation from the Dulwich Literary and Scientific Association, of which Mr. Pickwick was Perpetual President, walked in the procession. Passing the well-known Greyhound Inn, one of Mr. Pickwick's favourite haunts, it was noticed the blinds were drawn down. 

 We copy from the _Eatanswill Gazette_ the following admirable tribute to Mr. Pickwick's merit, from the vigorous pen, as we understand, of its Editor, Mr. Pott:--"Not only in Dulwich, but in Eatanswill, is there mourning, to-day. We have lost Pickwick--Pickwick the true and the Blue. For Blue he was, to the very core and marrow of his bones, and it was we ourselves, who first permeated him with real Blue principles. Many a time and oft has he sat at our feet, drinking in with rapture, almost, the stray scraps of immortal doctrine with which we favoured him. Is it not an open secret that, but for Pickwick's exertions--exertions which laid the foundations of the disease which ultimately carried him off--our late admirable member, the Honourable Samuel Slumkey, would not have been returned? The _Gazette_, it is true, first burst open the breach, in which Pickwick threw himself, waving his flag on high, and led us on to victory. Of course, our verminous contemporary, the _Independent_, will scoff, and wipe its shoes on the illustrious dead. Of course, the mangey creature--ceasing the while from its perennial self-scratching--will hoot something derogatory. Let it sneer, yelp aloud in its impotent hog-like manner; let it root with its filthy snout among the heaps of garbage where it loves to make its unclean haunt in unspeakable Buffery. 'Twill not serve--the noisome fumes will stifle it. "

 We regret to say that these prognostications of Mr. Pott's were but too soon, and too fatally realised, for in almost the next issue of the _Independent_, we find a scandalous and indecent attack on our late beloved Mr. Pickwick. Shocking as it is, we cannot forbear, in duty to the deceased gentleman, presenting it to our readers--

"POTT'S PICKWICK. "

 "Our emasculated contemporary, not content with debauching Eatanswill politics, must go far afield and drag from his grave an obscure and feeble being whom he claims to make one of his besmirched heroes. But Potts' praise, as we have learned long since, is no more than daubing its object with dirt. Why, this very Pickwick whom he belauds--can it be forgotten how Eatanswill shook its sides with laughter at the figure he made our besotted contemporary cut? Who will forget Mr. W--- le, his creature, whom Pickwick introduced into the Potts' household and the resulting scandal, how Mr. W---le, aforesaid, fled from the house, leaving the belated Ariadne in tears? Does Pott forget who it was put his finger on this spot and, for the fair fame of Eatanswill, clamoured for its extinction? Who forgets our warnings and their fulfilment? The arrival of the Lieutenant; the menaced proceedings in a certain court; the departure of the fair but frail culprit. And yet Pott with an ineffable effrontery that would do credit to a fishwife in and from Billingsgate, clamours about this Pickwick and his virtues, and drops his maudlin tears upon his coffin! Why was he not there to give his hand to Mr. Lothario W---le, who, we understand, was also present? By the way, we have received the following lines from a valued correspondent:--

 Your tears you may sprinkle O W---le, O W---le, With more of this same kind of rot. The lady so gay Could not say you nay, Merely bidding you '_Go to Pot_. '

 Our hide-bound contemporary, will not, of course, see the point--"

 We are grieved to say, that the indecent Eatanswill controversy over the lamented Mr. Pickwick still goes on. More strictly speaking, however, he has dropped out of sight owing to the inflamed passions which have been roused between the editors. Our sympathies are, we need not say, with Mr. Pott, still we wish he would somewhat temper his language, out of respect for the dead. Here is his crushing retort--

"FILTH ON THE COFFIN. "

 "We have seen at some historic funeral, say of some personage obnoxious to the mob, dead dogs, cats, rats, and rotten eggs, hurled from a safe distance at the passing coffin. This is what our fast decomposing and wholly noisome contemporary is now doing. Shall we say it? How beastly, how congenial to the man's feelings! Paugh! Decency; propriety; sense of restraint; all unknown terms in his Malay tongue--for this Swift's yahoo. But we know what rankles. Has our contemporary in mind a chastisement that was inflicted on him in the kitchen of a certain inn, and in the presence of Pickwick himself--has he forgotten the fire irons--or, to speak accurately, _the_ fire irons. That bruise, we dare swear, is still raw. But there are pole- cats who cannot divest themselves of their odour, do what they will, and this festering mass of decaying garbage, which goes by the name of _The Independent_, and which is unaccountably overlooked by the night men in their rounds, is fast breeding a pestilence in the pure air of Eatanswill. " This lamentable controversy still continues. 

STRANGE INCIDENT. 

 We noticed among the company at Mr. Pickwick's funeral a gentleman of unobstrusive exterior, who seemed to be vainly seeking his place, and to whom our representative offered his services. It turned out that his name was Trundle, and that he was one of the appointed pall-bearers, but that he had been unaccountably overlooked, and his place taken by someone else. Mr. Trundle made no complaint, but our representative thought it his duty to mention the circumstance to Mr. Wardle, who, it appears, is his father-in-law, but who only smiled, good-humouredly saying "O, Trundle, to be sure. No one minds him and _he_ won't mind. " But no further attention was paid to the matter. Mr. Trundle, our representative adds, was a man of modest and retiring ways, and did not seem in the least put out by the mistake. 

Footnotes:

{1} Some years ago, as it is stated in Murray's Guide Book, most of theold gabled houses disappeared. They are shown in "Phiz's" picturesquesketch. 

{66} "Oliver Twist" was begun in January, 1837, and Rose Maylieintroduced about July or August. Mary Hogarth died on May 7th. 

{68} Mr. Wright lately possessed a most interesting copy, presentednumber by number to Mary Hogarth by the author, up to No. 14, with thisinscription: "From hers affectionately, Charles Dickens. " The succeedingnumbers were given to her schoolfellow, Miss Walker. Mr. Wright alsopossessed the letter announcing her death. It runs: "Sunday night, 8thMay, 1837. We are in deep and sincere distress. Miss Hogarth, afteraccompanying Mrs. Dickens and myself to the theatre last night, was takenseriously ill, and, despite our best endeavours to save her, expired inmy arms. " It is curious to notice that this phrase should recur inNickleby, it running, "My darling lad, who was taken ill last night, Ithought would have expired in my arms. "

{84} In a presentation copy of "Pickwick, " given to Edward Chapman, November 14th, 1839, he calls him and Hall "the best of booksellers, past, present, or to come, and my trusty friends. "