When the last "natural" had been declared, and the profit and loss
account of fish and sixpences adjusted, to the satisfaction of all
parties, Mr. Bob Sawyer rang for supper, and the visitors squeezed
themselves into corners while it was getting ready.
[Footnote 28: From Chapter XXXI of "The Posthumous Papers of the
Pickwick Club."]
It was not so easily got ready as some people may imagine. First of
all, it was necessary to awaken the girl, who had fallen asleep with
her face on the kitchen table; this took a little time, and, even when
she did answer the bell, another quarter of an hour was consumed in
fruitless endeavors to impart to her a faint and distant glimmering of
reason. The man to whom the order for the oysters had been sent, had
not been told to open them; it is a very difficult thing to open an
oyster with a limp knife or a two-pronged fork, and very little was
done in this way. Very little of the beef was done either; and the ham
(which was also from the German sausage-shop round the corner) was in
a similar predicament. However, there was plenty of porter in a tin
can; and the cheese went a great way, for it was very strong. So upon
the whole, perhaps, the supper was quite as good as such matters
usually are.
After supper another jug of punch was put upon the table, together
with a paper of cigars, and a couple of bottles of spirits. Then there
was an awful pause; and this awful pause was occasioned by a very
common occurrence in this sort of places, but a very embarrassing one
notwithstanding.
The fact is that the girl was washing the glasses. The establishment
boasted four; we do not record the circumstance as at all derogatory
to Mrs. Raddle, for there never was a lodging-house yet that was not
short of glasses.
The landlady's glasses were little thin blown-glass tumblers, and
those which had been borrowed from the public house were great,
dropsical, bloated articles, each supported on a huge gouty leg. This
would have been in itself sufficient to have possest the company with
the real state of affairs; but the young woman of all work had
prevented the possibility of any misconception arising in the mind of
any gentlemen on the subject, by forcibly dragging every man's glass
away, long before he had finished his beer, and audibly stating,
despite the winks and interruptions of Mr. Bob Sawyer, that it was to
be conveyed down-stairs, and washed forthwith.
It is a very ill wind that blows nobody any good. The prim man in the
cloth boots, who had been unsuccessfully attempting to make a joke
during the whole time the round game lasted, saw his opportunity, and
availed himself of it. The instant the glasses disappeared he
commenced a long story about a great public character, whose name he
had forgotten, making a particular happy reply to another eminent and
illustrious individual whom he had never been able to identify. He
enlarged at some length and with great minuteness upon divers
collateral circumstances, distantly connected with the anecdote in
hand, but for the life of him he couldn't recollect at that precise
moment what the anecdote was, altho he had been in the habit of
telling the story with great applause for the last ten years.
"Dear me," said the prim man in the cloth boots, "it is a very
extraordinary circumstance."
"I am sorry you have forgotten it," said Mr. Bob Sawyer, glancing
eagerly at the door, as he thought he heard the noise of glasses
jingling--"very sorry."
"So am I," responded the prim man, "because I know it would have
afforded so much amusement. Never mind; I dare say I shall manage to
recollect it, in the course of half an hour or so."
The prim man arrived at this point just as the glasses came back, when
Mr. Bob Sawyer, who had been absorbed in attention during the whole
time, said he should very much like to hear the end of it, for, so far
as it went, it was, without exception, the very best story he had ever
heard.
The sight of the tumblers restored Bob Sawyer to a degree of
equanimity which he had not possest since his interview with his
landlady. His face brightened up and he began to feel quite convivial.
"Now, Betsy," said Mr. Bob Sawyer, with great suavity, and
dispersing, at the same time, the tumultuous little mob of glasses
that the girl had collected in the center of the table; "now, Betsy,
the warm water: be brisk, there's a good girl."
"You can't have no warm water," replied Betsy.
"No warm water!" exclaimed Mr. Bob Sawyer.
"No," said the girl, with a shake of the head which exprest a more
decided negative than the most copious language could have conveyed.
"Missis Raddle said you warn't to have none."
The surprize depicted on the countenances of his guests imparted new
courage to the host.
"Bring up the warm water instantly--instantly!" said Mr. Bob Sawyer,
with desperate sternness.
"No; I can't," replied the girl; "Missis Raddle raked out the kitchen
fire afore she went to bed, and locked up the kittle."
"Oh, never mind; never mind. Pray, don't disturb yourself about such a
trifle," said Mr. Pickwick, observing the conflict of Bob Sawyer's
passions, as depicted in his countenance, "cold water will do very
well."
"Oh, admirably," said Mr. Benjamin Allen.
"My landlady is subject to some slight attacks of mental derangement,"
remarked Bob Sawyer with a ghastly smile; "I fear I must give her
warning."
"No, don't," said Ben Allen.
"I fear I must," said Bob with heroic firmness. "I'll pay her what I
owe her, and give her warning to-morrow morning." Poor fellow! how
devoutly he wished he could!
Mr. Bob Sawyer's heart-sickening attempts to rally under this last
blow communicated a dispiriting influence to the company, the greater
part of whom, with the view of raising their spirits, attached
themselves with extra cordiality to the cold brandy and water, the
first perceptible effects of which were displayed in a renewal of
hostilities between the scorbutic youth and the gentleman in the
sanguine shirt. The belligerents vented their feelings of mutual
contempt, for some time, in a variety of frownings and snortings,
until at last the scorbutic youth felt it necessary to come to a more
explicit understanding on the matter; when the following clear
understanding took place.
"Sawyer," said the scorbutic youth.
"Well, Noddy," replied Mr. Bob Sawyer.
"I should be very sorry, Sawyer," said Mr. Noddy, "to create any
unpleasantness at any friend's table, and much less at yours,
Sawyer--very; but I must take this opportunity of informing Mr. Gunter
that he is no gentleman."
"And I should be very sorry, Sawyer, to create any disturbance in the
street in which you reside," said Mr. Gunter, "but I'm afraid I shall
be under the necessity of alarming the neighbors by throwing the
person who has just spoken, out o' window."
"What do you mean by that, Sir?" inquired Mr. Noddy.
"What I say, Sir," replied Mr. Gunter.
"I should like to see you do it, Sir," said Mr. Noddy.
"You shall feel me do it in half a minute, Sir," replied Mr. Gunter.
"I request that you'll favor me with your card, Sir," said Mr. Noddy.
"I'll do nothing of the kind, Sir," replied Mr. Gunter.
"Why not, Sir?" inquired Mr. Noddy.
"Because you'll stick it up over your chimney-piece, and delude your
visitors into the false belief that a gentleman had been to see you,
Sir," replied Mr. Gunter.
"Sir, a friend of mine shall wait on you in the morning," said Mr.
Noddy.
"Sir, I'm very much obliged to you for the caution, and I'll leave
particular directions with the servants to lock up the spoons,"
replied Mr. Gunter.
At this point the remainder of the guests interposed, and remonstrated
with both parties on the impropriety of their conduct, on which Mr.
Noddy begged to state that his father was quite as respectable as Mr.
Gunter's father; to which Mr. Gunter replied that his father was to
the full as respectable as Mr. Noddy's father, and that his father's
son was as good a man as Mr. Noddy, any day in the week. As this
announcement seemed the prelude to a recommencement of the dispute,
there was another interference on the part of the company; and a vast
quantity of talking and clamoring ensued, in the course of which Mr.
Noddy gradually allowed his feelings to overpower him, and profest
that he had ever entertained a devoted personal attachment toward Mr.
Gunter. To this Mr. Gunter replied that, upon the whole, he rather
preferred Mr. Noddy to his own brother; on hearing which admission,
Mr. Noddy magnanimously rose from his seat, and proferred his hand to
Mr. Gunter. Mr. Gunter grasped it with affecting fervor; and everybody
said that the whole dispute had been conducted in a manner which was
highly honorable to both parties concerned.
"Now," said Jack Hopkins, "just to set us going again, Bob, I don't
mind singing a song." And Hopkins, incited thereto by tumultuous
applause, plunged himself at once into "The King, God Bless Him,"
which he sang as loud as he could, to a novel air, compounded to the
"Bay of Biscay," and "A Frog He Would." The chorus was the essence of
the song, and, as each gentleman sang it to the tune he knew best, the
effect was very striking indeed.
It was at the end of the chorus to the first verse, that Mr. Pickwick
held up his hand in a listening attitude, and said, as soon as silence
was restored:
"Hush! I beg your pardon. I thought I heard somebody calling from
up-stairs."
A profound silence immediately ensued; and Mr. Bob Sawyer was observed
to turn pale.
"I think I hear it now," said Mr. Pickwick. "Have the goodness to open
the door."
The door was no sooner opened than all doubt on the subject was
removed.
"Mr. Sawyer--Mr. Sawyer," screamed a voice from the two-pair landing.
"It's my landlady," said Bob Sawyer, looking around him with great
dismay. "Yes, Mrs. Raddle."
"What do you mean by this, Mr. Sawyer?" replied the voice, with great
shrillness and rapidity of utterance. "Ain't it enough to be swindled
out of one's rent, and money lent out of pocket besides, and abused
and insulted by your friends that dares to call themselves men,
without having the house turned out of window, and noise enough made
to bring the fire-engines here, at two o'clock in the morning? Turn
them wretches away."
"You ought to be ashamed of yourselves," said the voice of Mr. Raddle,
which appeared to proceed from beneath some distant bed-clothes.
"Ashamed of themselves!" said Mrs. Raddle. "Why don't you go down and
knock 'em every one down-stairs? You would if you was a man."
"I should if I was a dozen men, my dear," replied Mr. Raddle,
pacifically, "but they've rather the advantage of me in numbers, my
dear."
"Ugh, you coward!" replied Mrs. Raddle, with supreme contempt. "Do you
mean to turn them wretches out, or not, Mr. Sawyer?"
"They're going, Mrs. Raddle, they're going," said the miserable Bob.
"I am afraid you'd better go," said Mr. Bob Sawyer to his friends. "I
thought you were making too much noise."
"It's a very unfortunate thing," said the prim man. "Just as we were
getting so comfortable too!" The fact was the prim man was just
beginning to have a dawning recollection of the story he had
forgotten.
"It's hardly to be borne," said the prim man, looking round. "Hardly
to be borne, is it?"
"Not to be endured," replied Jack Hopkins; "let's have the other
verse, Bob. Come, here goes."
"No, no, Jack, don't," interposed Bob Sawyer; "it's a capital song,
but I am afraid we had better not have the other verse. They are very
violent people, the people of the house."
"Shall I step up-stairs, and pitch into the landlord?" inquired
Hopkins, "or keep on ringing the bell, or go and groan on the
staircase? You may command me, Bob."
"I am very much indebted to you for your friendship and good nature,
Hopkins," said the wretched Mr. Bob Sawyer, "but I think the best plan
to avoid any further dispute is for us to break up at once."
"Now, Mr. Sawyer," screamed the shrill voice of Mrs. Raddle, "are them
brutes going?"
"They're only looking for their hats, Mrs. Raddle," said Bob; "they
are going directly."
"Going!" said Mrs. Raddle, thrusting her nightcap over the banisters
just as Mr. Pickwick, followed by Mr. Tupman, emerged from the
sitting-room. "Going! What did they ever come for?"
"My dear ma'am," remonstrated Mr. Pickwick, looking up.
"Get along with you, you old wretch!" replied Mrs. Raddle, hastily
withdrawing the nightcap. "Old enough to be his grandfather, you
villain! You're worse than any of 'em."
Mr. Pickwick found it in vain to protest his innocence, so hurried
down-stairs into the street, whither he was closely followed by Mr.
Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass. Mr. Ben Allen, who was dismally
deprest with spirits and agitation, accompanied them as far as London
Bridge, and in the course of the walk confided to Mr. Winkle, as an
especially sensible person to entrust the secret to, that he was
resolved to cut the throat of any gentleman except Mr. Bob Sawyer who
should aspire to the affections of his sister Arabella. Having exprest
his determination to perform this painful duty of a brother with
proper firmness, he burst into tears, knocked his hat over his eyes,
and making the best of his way back, knocked double knocks at the door
of the Borough Market, and took short naps on the steps alternately,
until daybreak, under the firm impression that he lived there, and had
forgotten the key.
The visitors having all departed, in compliance with the rather
pressing request of Mrs. Raddle, the luckless Mr. Bob Sawyer was left
alone to meditate on the probable events of the morrow, and the
pleasures of the evening.