[Illustration]
_Some Account of Eatanswill; of the State of Parties therein; and
of the Election of a Member to serve in Parliament for that
Ancient, Loyal, and Patriotic Borough_
We will frankly acknowledge, that up to the period of our being first
immersed in the voluminous papers of the Pickwick Club, we had never
heard of Eatanswill; we will with equal candour admit, that we have
in vain searched for proof of the actual existence of such a place
at the present day. Knowing the deep reliance to be placed on every
note and statement of Mr. Pickwick's, and not presuming to set up our
recollection against the recorded declarations of that great man, we
have consulted every authority, bearing upon the subject, to which
we could possible refer. We have traced every name in schedules A
and B, without meeting with that of Eatanswill; we have minutely
examined every corner of the Pocket County Maps issued for the benefit
of society by our distinguished publishers, and the same result has
attended our investigation. We are therefore led to believe, that Mr.
Pickwick, with that anxious desire to abstain from giving offence to
any, and with those delicate feelings for which all who knew him well
know he was so eminently remarkable, purposely substituted a fictitious
designation, for the real name of the place in which his observations
were made. We are confirmed in this belief by a little circumstance,
apparently slight and trivial in itself, but when considered in this
point of view, not undeserving of notice. In Mr. Pickwick's note-book,
we can just trace an entry of the fact, that the places of himself
and followers were booked by the Norwich coach; but this entry was
afterwards lined through, as if for the purpose of concealing even the
direction in which the borough is situated. We will not, therefore,
hazard a guess upon the subject, but will at once proceed with this
history; content with the materials which its characters have provided
for us.
It appears, then, that the Eatanswill people, like the people of many
other small towns, considered themselves of the utmost and most mighty
importance, and that every man in Eatanswill, conscious of the weight
that attached to his example, felt himself bound to unite, heart and
soul, with one of the two great parties that divided the town--the
Blues and the Buffs. Now the Blues lost no opportunity of opposing the
Buffs, and the Buffs lost no opportunity of opposing the Blues; and
the consequence was, that whenever the Buffs and Blues met together at
public meeting, Town-Hall, fair, or market, disputes and high words
arose between them. With these dissensions it is almost superfluous
to say that everything in Eatanswill was made a party question. If
the Buffs proposed to new skylight the market-place, the Blues got up
public meetings, and denounced the proceeding; if the Blues proposed
the erection of an additional pump in the High Street, the Buffs rose
as one man and stood aghast at the enormity. There were Blue shops and
Buff shops, Blue inns and Buff inns; there was a Blue aisle and a Buff
aisle, in the very church itself.
Of course it was essentially and indispensably necessary that
each of these powerful parties should have its chosen organ and
representative: and, accordingly, there were two newspapers in the
town--the _Eatanswill Gazette_, and the _Eatanswill Independent_;
the former advocating Blue principles, and the latter conducted
on grounds decidedly Buff. Fine newspapers they were. Such
leading articles, and such spirited attacks!--"Our worthless
contemporary, the _Gazette_"--"That disgraceful and dastardly
journal, the _Independent_"--"That false and scurrilous print, the
_Independent_"--"That vile and slanderous calumniator, the _Gazette_;"
these and other spirit-stirring denunciations were strewn plentifully
over the columns of each, in every number, and excited feelings of the
most intense delight and indignation in the bosoms of the townspeople.
Mr. Pickwick, with his usual foresight and sagacity, had chosen a
peculiarly desirable moment for his visit to the borough. Never was
such a contest known. The Honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall,
was the Blue candidate; and Horatio Fizkin, Esq., of Fizkin Lodge, near
Eatanswill, had been prevailed upon by his friends to stand forward
in the Buff interest. The _Gazette_ warned the electors of Eatanswill
that the eyes not only of England, but of the whole civilised world,
were upon them; and the _Independent_ imperatively demanded to know,
whether the constituency of Eatanswill were the grand fellows they had
always taken them for, or base and servile tools, undeserving alike of
the name of Englishmen and the blessings of freedom. Never had such a
commotion agitated the town before.
It was late in the evening, when Mr. Pickwick and his companions,
assisted by Sam, dismounted from the roof of the Eatanswill coach.
Large blue silk flags were flying from the windows of the Town Arms
Inn, and bills were posted in every sash, intimating, in gigantic
letters, that the Honourable Samuel Slumkey's Committee sat there
daily. A crowd of idlers were assembled in the road, looking at a
hoarse man in the balcony, who was apparently talking himself very red
in the face in Mr. Slumkey's behalf; but the force and point of whose
arguments were somewhat impaired by the perpetual beating of four large
drums which Mr. Fizkin's committee had stationed at the street corner.
There was a busy little man beside him, though, who took off his hat
at intervals and motioned to the people to cheer, which they regularly
did, most enthusiastically; and as the red-faced gentleman went on
talking till he was redder in the face than ever, it seemed to answer
his purpose quite as well as if anybody had heard him.
The Pickwickians had no sooner dismounted, than they were surrounded
by a branch mob of the honest and independent, who forthwith set up
three deafening cheers, which being responded to by the main body (for
it's not at all necessary for a crowd to know what they are cheering
about), swelled into a tremendous roar of triumph, which stopped even
the red-faced man in the balcony.
"Hurrah!" shouted the mob in conclusion.
"One cheer more," screamed the little fugleman in the balcony, and out
shouted the mob again, as if lungs were cast iron, with steel works.
"Slumkey for ever!" roared the honest and independent.
"Slumkey for ever!" echoed Mr. Pickwick, taking off his hat.
"No Fizkin!" roared the crowd.
"Certainly not!" shouted Mr. Pickwick.
"Hurrah!" And then there was another roaring, like that of a whole
menagerie when the elephant has rung the bell for the cold meat.
"Who is Slumkey?" whispered Mr. Tupman.
"I don't know," replied Mr. Pickwick in the same tone, "Hush. Don't ask
any questions. It's always best on these occasions to do what the mob
do."
"But suppose there are two mobs?" suggested Mr. Snodgrass.
"Shout with the largest," replied Mr. Pickwick.
Volumes could not have said more.
They entered the house, the crowd opening right and left to let them
pass, and cheering vociferously. The first object of consideration was
to secure quarters for the night.
"Can we have beds here?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, summoning the waiter.
"Don't know, sir," replied the man; "afraid we're full, sir--I'll
inquire, sir." Away he went for that purpose, and presently returned,
to ask whether the gentlemen were "Blue."
As neither Mr. Pickwick nor his companions took any vital interest in
the cause of either candidate, the question was rather a difficult one
to answer. In this dilemma Mr. Pickwick bethought himself of his new
friend, Mr. Perker.
"Do you know a gentleman of the name of Mr. Perker?" inquired Mr.
Pickwick.
"Certainly, sir; honourable Mr. Samuel Slumkey's agent."
"He is Blue, I think?"
"Oh yes, sir."
"Then _we_ are Blue," said Mr. Pickwick; but observing that the man
looked rather doubtful at this accommodating announcement, he gave him
his card, and desired him to present it to Mr. Perker forthwith, if he
should happen to be in the house. The waiter retired; and reappearing
almost immediately with a request that Mr. Pickwick would follow him,
led the way to a large room on the first floor, where, seated at a long
table covered with books and papers, was Mr. Perker.
"Ah--ah, my dear sir," said the little man, advancing to meet him;
"very happy to see you, my dear sir, very. Pray sit down. So you have
carried your intention into effect. You have come down here to see an
election--eh?"
Mr. Pickwick replied in the affirmative.
"Spirited contest, my dear sir," said the little man.
"I am delighted to hear it," said Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his hands.
"I like to see sturdy patriotism, on whatever side it is called
forth;--and so it's a spirited contest?"
"Oh yes," said the little man, "very much so indeed. We have opened
all the public-houses in the place, and left our adversary nothing but
the beer-shops--masterly stroke of policy that, my dear sir, eh?"--the
little man smiled complacently, and took a large pinch of snuff.
"And what are the probabilities as to the result of the contest?"
inquired Mr. Pickwick.
"Why, doubtful, my dear sir; rather doubtful as yet," replied the
little man. "Fizkin's people have got three-and-thirty voters in the
lock-up coach-house at the White Hart."
"In the coach-house!" said Mr. Pickwick, considerably astonished by
this second stroke of policy.
"They keep 'em locked up there till they want 'em," resumed the little
man. "The effect of that is, you see, to prevent our getting at them;
and even if we could, it would be of no use, for they keep them very
drunk on purpose. Smart fellow Fizkin's agent--very smart fellow
indeed."
Mr. Pickwick stared, but said nothing.
"We are pretty confident, though," said Mr. Perker, sinking his
voice almost to a whisper. "We had a little tea-party here last
night--five-and-forty women, my dear sir--and gave every one of 'em a
green parasol when she went away."
"A parasol!" said Mr. Pickwick.
"Fact, my dear sir, fact. Five-and-forty green parasols at seven
and sixpence a-piece. All women like finery,--extraordinary the
effect of those parasols. Secured all their husbands, and half their
brothers--beats stockings and flannel, and all that sort of thing
hollow. My idea, my dear sir, entirely. Hail, rain, or sunshine, you
can't walk half a dozen yards up the street, without encountering half
a dozen green parasols."
Here the little man indulged in a convulsion of mirth, which was only
checked by the entrance of a third party.
This was a tall, thin man, with a sandy-coloured head inclined to
baldness, and a face in which solemn importance was blended with a look
of unfathomable profundity. He was dressed in a long brown surtout,
with a black cloth waistcoat, and drab trousers. A double eye-glass
dangled at his waistcoat: and on his head he wore a very low-crowned
hat with a broad brim. The new-comer was introduced to Mr. Pickwick
as Mr. Pott, the editor of the _Eatanswill Gazette_. After a few
preliminary remarks, Mr. Pott turned round to Mr. Pickwick, and said
with solemnity--
"This contest excites great interest in the metropolis, sir?"
"I believe it does," said Mr. Pickwick.
"To which I have reason to know," said Pott, looking towards Mr. Perker
for information,--"to which I have reason to know that my article of
last Saturday in some degree contributed."
"Not the least doubt of it," said the little man.
"The press is a mighty engine, sir," said Pott.
Mr. Pickwick yielded his fullest assent to the proposition.
"But I trust, sir," said Pott, "that I have never abused the enormous
power I wield. I trust, sir, that I have never pointed the noble
instrument which is placed in my hands, against the sacred bosom
of private life, or the tender breast of individual reputation;--I
trust, sir, that I have devoted my energies to--to endeavours--humble
they may be, humble I know they are--to instil those principles
of--which--are--"
Here the editor of the _Eatanswill Gazette_ appearing to ramble, Mr.
Pickwick came to his relief, and said--
"Certainly."
"And what, sir,"--said Pott--"what, sir, let me ask you as an impartial
man, is the state of the public mind in London with reference to my
contest with the _Independent_?"
"Greatly excited, no doubt," interposed Mr. Perker, with a look of
slyness which was very likely accidental.
"The contest," said Pott, "shall be prolonged so long as I have health
and strength, and that portion of talent with which I am gifted. From
that contest, sir, although it may unsettle men's minds and excite
their feelings, and render them incapable for the discharge of the
every-day duties of ordinary life; from that contest, sir, I will never
shrink, till I have set my heel upon the _Eatanswill Independent_. I
wish the people of London and the people of this country to know, sir,
that they may rely upon me;--that I will not desert them, that I am
resolved to stand by them, sir, to the last."
"Your conduct is most noble, sir," said Mr. Pickwick; and he grasped
the hand of the magnanimous Pott.
"You are, sir, I perceive, a man of sense and talent," said Mr. Pott,
almost breathless with the vehemence of his patriotic declaration. "I
am most happy, sir, to make the acquaintance of such a man."
"And I," said Mr. Pickwick, "feel deeply honoured by this expression of
your opinion. Allow me, sir, to introduce you to my fellow-travellers,
the other corresponding members of the club I am proud to have founded."
"I shall be delighted," said Mr. Pott.
Mr. Pickwick withdrew, and returning with his friends, presented them
in due form to the editor of the _Eatanswill Gazette_.
"Now, my dear Pott," said little Mr. Perker, "the question is, what are
we to do with our friends here?"
"We can stop in this house, I suppose," said Mr. Pickwick.
"Not a spare bed in the house, my dear sir--not a single bed."
"Extremely awkward," said Mr. Pickwick.
"Very," said his fellow-voyagers.
"I have an idea upon this subject," said Mr. Pott, "which I think may
be very successfully adopted. They have two beds at the Peacock, and
I can boldly say, on behalf of Mrs. Pott, that she will be delighted
to accommodate Mr. Pickwick and any of his friends, if the other two
gentlemen and their servant do not object to shifting, as they best
can, at the Peacock."
After repeated pressings on the part of Mr. Pott, and repeated
protestations on that of Mr. Pickwick that he could not think of
incommoding or troubling his amiable wife, it was decided that it was
the only feasible arrangement that could be made. So it _was_ made;
and after dining together at the Town Arms, the friends separated, Mr.
Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass repairing to the Peacock, and Mr. Pickwick
and Mr. Winkle proceeding to the mansion of Mr. Pott; it having been
previously arranged that they should all reassemble at the Town Arms in
the morning, and accompany the honourable Samuel Slumkey's procession
to the place of nomination.
Mr. Pott's domestic circle was limited to himself and his wife. All men
whom mighty genius has raised to a proud eminence in the world, have
usually some little weakness which appears the more conspicuous from
the contrast it presents to their general character. If Mr. Pott had
a weakness, it was, perhaps, that he was _rather_ too submissive to
the somewhat contemptuous control and sway of his wife. We do not feel
justified in laying any particular stress upon the fact, because on the
present occasion all Mrs. Pott's most winning ways were brought into
requisition to receive the two gentlemen.
"My dear," said Mr. Pott, "Mr. Pickwick--Mr. Pickwick of London."
Mrs. Pott received Mr. Pickwick's paternal grasp of the hand with
enchanting sweetness; and Mr. Winkle, who had not been announced at
all, slided and bowed, unnoticed, in an obscure corner.
"P. my dear--" said Mrs. Pott.
"My life," said Mr. Pott.
"Pray introduce the other gentleman."
"I beg a thousand pardons," said Mr. Pott. "Permit me. Mrs. Pott, Mr.
----"
"Winkle," said Mr. Pickwick.
"Winkle," echoed Mr. Pott; and the ceremony of introduction was
complete.
"We owe you many apologies, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, "for disturbing
your domestic arrangements at so short a notice."
"I beg you won't mention it, sir," replied the feminine Pott, with
vivacity. "It is a high treat to me, I assure you, to see any new
faces; living as I do, from day to day, and week to week, in this dull
place, and seeing nobody."
"Nobody, my dear!" exclaimed Mr. Pott, archly.
"Nobody but _you_," retorted Mrs. Pott, with asperity.
"You see, Mr. Pickwick," said the host in explanation of his wife's
lament, "that we are in some measure cut off from many enjoyments and
pleasures of which we might otherwise partake. My public station, as
editor of the _Eatanswill Gazette_, the position which that paper holds
in the country, my constant immersion in the vortex of politics----"
"P. my dear--" interposed Mrs. Pott.
"My life--" said the editor.
"I wish, my dear, you would endeavour to find some topic of
conversation in which these gentlemen might take some rational
interest."
"But, my love," said Mr. Pott, with great humility, "Mr. Pickwick does
take an interest in it."
"It's well for him if he can," said Mrs. Pott, emphatically; "I am
wearied out of my life with your politics, and quarrels with the
_Independent_, and nonsense. I am quite astonished, P., at your making
such an exhibition of your absurdity."
"But, my dear--" said Mr. Pott.
"Oh, nonsense, don't talk to me;" said Mrs. Pott. "Do you play
_écarté_, sir?"
"I shall be very happy to learn under your tuition," replied Mr. Winkle.
"Well, then, draw that little table into this window, and let me get
out of hearing of those prosy politics."
"Jane," said Mr. Pott, to the servant who brought in candles, "go down
into the office, and bring me up the file of the _Gazette_ for Eighteen
Hundred and Twenty Eight. I'll read you--" added the editor, turning
to Mr. Pickwick, "I'll just read you a few of the leaders I wrote at
that time upon the Buff job of appointing a new tollman to the turnpike
here; I rather think they'll amuse you."
"I should like to hear them very much indeed," said Mr. Pickwick.
Up came the file, and down sat the editor, with Mr. Pickwick at his
side.
We have in vain pored over the leaves of Mr. Pickwick's note-book,
in the hope of meeting with a general summary of these beautiful
compositions. We have every reason to believe that he was perfectly
enraptured with the vigour and freshness of the style; indeed Mr.
Winkle has recorded the fact that his eyes were closed, as if with
excess of pleasure, during the whole time of their perusal.
The announcement of supper put a stop both to the game at _écarté_,
and the recapitulation of the beauties of the _Eatanswill Gazette_.
Mrs. Pott was in the highest spirits and the most agreeable humour.
Mr. Winkle had already made considerable progress in her good opinion,
and she did not hesitate to inform him, confidentially, that Mr.
Pickwick was "a delightful old dear." These terms convey a familiarity
of expression, in which few of those who were intimately acquainted
with that colossal-minded man would have presumed to indulge. We have
preserved them, nevertheless, as affording at once a touching and
convincing proof of the estimation in which he was held by every class
of society, and the ease with which he made his way to their hearts and
feelings.
It was a late hour of the night--long after Mr. Tupman and Mr.
Snodgrass had fallen asleep in the inmost recesses of the Peacock--when
the two friends retired to rest. Slumber soon fell upon the senses
of Mr. Winkle, but his feelings had been excited, and his admiration
roused; and for many hours after sleep had rendered him insensible
to earthly objects, the face and figure of the agreeable Mrs. Pott
presented themselves again and again to his wandering imagination.
The noise and bustle which ushered in the morning, were sufficient
to dispel from the mind of the most romantic visionary in existence,
any associations but those which were immediately connected with the
rapidly-approaching election. The beating of drums, the blowing of
horns and trumpets, the shouting of men, and tramping of horses, echoed
and re-echoed through the streets from the earliest dawn of day; and an
occasional fight between the light skirmishers of either party at once
enlivened the preparations and agreeably diversified their character.
"Well, Sam," said Mr. Pickwick, as his valet appeared at his bed-room
door, just as he was concluding his toilet; "all alive to-day, I
suppose?"
"Reg'lar game, sir," replied Mr. Weller; "our people's a col-lecting
down at the Town Arms, and they're a hollering themselves hoarse
already."
"Ah," said Mr. Pickwick, "do they seem devoted to their party, Sam?"
"Never see such dewotion in my life, sir."
"Energetic, eh?" said Mr. Pickwick.
"Uncommon," replied Sam; "I never see men eat and drink so much afore.
I wonder they an't afeer'd o' bustin'."
"That's the mistaken kindness of the gentry here," said Mr. Pickwick.
"Wery likely," replied Sam, briefly.
"Fine, fresh, hearty fellows they seem," said Mr. Pickwick, glancing
from the window.
"Wery fresh," replied Sam: "me, and the two waiters at the Peacock, has
been a pumpin' over the independent woters as supped there last night."
"Pumping over independent voters!" exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.
"Yes," said his attendant, "every man slept vere he fell down; we
dragged 'em out, one by one, this mornin', and put 'em under the pump,
and they're in reg'lar fine order, now. Shillin' a head the committee
paid for that 'ere job."
"Can such things be!" exclaimed the astonished Mr. Pickwick.
"Lord bless your heart, sir," said Sam, "why, where was you half
baptized?--that's nothin', that an't."
"Nothing?" said Mr. Pickwick.
"Nothin' at all, sir," replied his attendant. "The night afore the last
day o' the last election here, the opposite party bribed the barmaid
at the Town Arms, to hocus the brandy and water of fourteen unpolled
electors as was a stoppin' in the house."
"What do you mean by 'hocussing' brandy and water?" inquired Mr.
Pickwick.
"Puttin' laud'num in it," replied Sam. "Blessed if she didn't send 'em
all to sleep till twelve hours arter the election was over. They took
one man up to the booth, in a truck, fast asleep, by way of experiment,
but it was no go--they wouldn't poll him; so they brought him back, and
put him to bed again."
"Strange practices, these," said Mr. Pickwick; half speaking to himself
and half addressing Sam.
"Not half so strange as a miraculous circumstance as happened to my own
father, at an election time, in this wery place, sir," replied Sam.
"What was that?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.
"Why he drove a coach down here once," said Sam; "'lection time came
on, and he was engaged by vun party to bring down woters from London.
Night afore he was a going to drive up, committee on t'other side
sends for him quietly, and away he goes vith the messenger, who shows
him in;--large room--lots of gen'l'm'n--heaps of paper, pens and ink,
and all that 'ere. 'Ah, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n in the chair,
'glad to see you, sir; how are you?'--'Wery well, thank'ee, sir,'
says my father; 'I hope _you're_ pretty middlin,' says he.--'Pretty
well, thank'ee, sir,' says the gen'l'm'n; 'sit down, Mr. Weller--pray
sit down, sir.' So my father sits down, and he and the gen'l'm'n
looks wery hard at each other. 'You don't remember me?' says the
gen'l'm'n.--'Can't say I do,' says my father.--'Oh, I know you,' says
the gen'l'm'n; 'know'd you when you was a boy,' says he.--'Well, I
don't remember you,' says my father--'That's wery odd,' says the
gen'l'm'n--'Wery,' says my father--'You must have a bad mem'ry, Mr.
Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n--'Well, it is a wery bad 'un,' says my
father.--'I thought so,' says the gen'l'm'n. So then they pours him
out a glass of wine, and gammons him about his driving, and gets him
into a reg'lar good humour, and at last shoves a twenty-pound note in
his hand. 'It's a wery bad road between this and London,' says the
gen'l'm'n.--'Here and there it _is_ a heavy road,' says my father.--'
'Specially near the canal, I think,' says the gen'l'm'n.--'Nasty bit
that 'ere,' says my father.--'Well, Mr. Weller,' says the gen'l'm'n,
'you're a wery good whip, and can do what you like with your horses, we
know. We're all wery fond o' you, Mr. Weller, so in case you _should_
have an accident when you're a bringing these here woters down, and
_should_ tip 'em over into the canal vithout hurtin' of 'em, this is
for yourself,' says he.--'Gen'l'm'n, you're wery kind,' says my father,
'and I'll drink your health in another glass of wine,' says he; wich he
did, and then buttons up the money, and bows himself out. You wouldn't
believe, sir," continued Sam, with a look of inexpressible impudence
at his master, "that on the wery day as he came down with them woters,
his coach _was_ upset on that 'ere wery spot, and ev'ry man on 'em was
turned into the canal."
"And got out again?" inquired Mr. Pickwick, hastily.
"Why," replied Sam, very slowly, "I rather think one old gen'l'm'n was
missin'; I know his hat was found, but I an't quite certain whether his
head was in it or not. But what I look at, is the hex-traordinary, and
wonderful coincidence, that arter what that gen'l'm'n said, my father's
coach should be upset in that wery place, and on that wery day!"
"It is, no doubt, a very extraordinary circumstance indeed," said Mr.
Pickwick. "But brush my hat, Sam, for I hear Mr. Winkle calling me to
breakfast."
With these words Mr. Pickwick descended to the parlour, where he
found breakfast laid, and the family already assembled. The meal was
hastily despatched; each of the gentlemen's hats was decorated with an
enormous blue favour, made up by the fair hands of Mrs. Pott herself;
and as Mr. Winkle had undertaken to escort that lady to a house-top,
in the immediate vicinity of the hustings, Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Pott
repaired alone to the Town Arms, from the back window of which, one of
Mr. Slumkey's committee was addressing six small boys, and one girl,
whom he dignified, at every second sentence, with the imposing title
of "men of Eatanswill," whereat the six small boys aforesaid cheered
prodigiously.
The stable-yard exhibited unequivocal symptoms of the glory and
strength of the Eatanswill Blues. There was a regular army of blue
flags, some with one handle, and some with two, exhibiting appropriate
devices, in golden characters, four feet high, and stout in proportion.
There was a grand band of trumpets, bassoons, and drums, marshalled
four abreast, and earning their money, if ever men did, especially the
drum-beaters, who were very muscular. There were bodies of constables
with blue staves, twenty committee-men with blue scarfs, and a mob
of voters with blue cockades. There were electors on horseback,
and electors a-foot. There was an open carriage and four, for the
Honourable Samuel Slumkey; and there were four carriages and pairs,
for his friends and supporters; and the flags were rustling, and the
band was playing, and the constables were swearing, and the twenty
committee-men were squabbling, and the mob was shouting, and the
horses were backing, and the post-boys perspiring; and everybody, and
everything, then and there assembled, was for the special use, behoof,
honour, and renown, of the Honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey
Hall, one of the candidates for the representation of the Borough of
Eatanswill, in the Commons House of Parliament of the United Kingdom.
Loud and long were the cheers, and mighty was the rustling of one of
the blue flags, with "Liberty of the Press" inscribed thereon, when the
sandy head of Mr. Pott was discerned in one of the windows, by the mob
beneath; and tremendous was the enthusiasm when the Honourable Samuel
Slumkey himself, in top-boots, and a blue neckerchief, advanced and
seized the hand of the said Pott, and melodramatically testified by
gestures to the crowd, his ineffaceable obligations to the _Eatanswill
Gazette_.
"Is everything ready?" said the Honourable Samuel Slumkey to Mr. Perker.
"Everything, my dear sir," was the little man's reply.
"Nothing has been omitted, I hope?" said the Honourable Samuel Slumkey.
"Nothing has been left undone, my dear sir--nothing whatever. There are
twenty washed men at the street door for you to shake hands with; and
six children in arms that you're to pat on the head, and inquire the
age of; be particular about the children, my dear sir,--it has always a
great effect, that sort of thing."
"I'll take care," said the Honourable Samuel Slumkey.
"And, perhaps, my dear sir--" said the cautious little man, "perhaps if
you _could_--I don't mean to say it's indispensable--but if you _could_
manage to kiss one of 'em, it would produce a very great impression on
the crowd."
"Wouldn't it have as good an effect if the proposer or seconder did
that?" said the Honourable Samuel Slumkey.
"Why, I am afraid it wouldn't," replied the agent; "if it were done by
yourself, my dear sir, I think it would make you very popular."
"Very well," said the Honourable Samuel Slumkey, with a resigned air,
"then it must be done. That's all."
"Arrange the procession," cried the twenty committee-men.
Amidst the cheers of the assembled throng, the band, and the
constables, and the committee-men, and the voters, and the horse-men,
and the carriages, took their places--each of the two-horse vehicles
being closely packed with as many gentlemen as could manage to stand
upright in it; and that assigned to Mr. Perker, containing Mr.
Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass, and about half a dozen of the
committee beside.
There was a moment of awful suspense as the procession waited for the
Honourable Samuel Slumkey to step into his carriage. Suddenly the crowd
set up a great cheering.
"He has come out," said little Mr. Perker, greatly excited; the more so
as their position did not enable them to see what was going forward.
Another cheer, much louder.
"He has shaken hands with the men," cried the little agent. Another
cheer, far more vehement.
"He has patted the babies on the head," said Mr. Perker, trembling with
anxiety.
A roar of applause that rent the air.
"He has kissed one of 'em!" exclaimed the delighted little man.
A second roar.
"He has kissed another," gasped the excited manager.
A third roar.
"He's kissing 'em all!" screamed the enthusiastic little gentleman. And
hailed by the deafening shouts of the multitude, the procession moved
on.
[Illustration: _"He has patted the babies on the head"_]
How or by what means it became mixed up with the other procession, and
how it was ever extricated from the confusion consequent thereupon,
is more than we can undertake to describe, inasmuch as Mr. Pickwick's
hat was knocked over his eyes, nose, and mouth, by one poke of a Buff
flag-staff, very early in the proceedings. He describes himself as
being surrounded on every side, when he could catch a glimpse of the
scene, by angry and ferocious countenances, by a vast cloud of dust,
and by a dense crowd of combatants. He represents himself as being
forced from the carriage by some unseen power, and being personally
engaged in a pugilistic encounter; but with whom, or how, or why, he
is wholly unable to state. He then felt himself forced up some wooden
steps by the persons from behind: and on removing his hat found himself
surrounded by his friends, in the very front of the left-hand side
of the hustings. The right was reserved for the Buff party, and the
centre for the Mayor and his officers; one of whom--the fat crier of
Eatanswill--was ringing an enormous bell, by way of commanding silence,
while Mr. Horatio Fizkin, and the Honourable Samuel Slumkey, with their
hands upon their hearts, were bowing with the utmost affability to the
troubled sea of heads that inundated the open space in front; and from
whence arose a storm of groans, and shouts, and yells, and hootings,
that would have done honour to an earthquake.
"There's Winkle," said Mr. Tupman, pulling his friend by the sleeve.
"Where?" said Mr. Pickwick, putting on his spectacles, which he had
fortunately kept in his pocket hitherto.
"There," said Mr. Tupman, "on the top of that house." And there, sure
enough, in the leaden gutter of a tiled roof, were Mr. Winkle and
Mrs. Pott, comfortably seated in a couple of chairs, waving their
handkerchiefs in token of recognition--a compliment which Mr. Pickwick
returned by kissing his hand to the lady.
The proceedings had not yet commenced; and as an inactive crowd
is generally disposed to be jocose, this very innocent action was
sufficient to awaken their facetiousness.
"Oh you wicked old rascal!" cried one voice, "looking arter the girls,
are you?"
"Oh you wenerable sinner!" cried another.
"Putting on his spectacles to look at a married 'ooman!" said a third.
"I see him a winkin' at her, with his wicked old eye," shouted a fourth.
"Look arter your wife, Pott," bellowed a fifth;--and then there was a
roar of laughter.
As these taunts were accompanied with invidious comparisons between Mr.
Pickwick and an aged ram, and several witticisms of the like nature;
and as they moreover rather tended to convey reflections upon the
honour of an innocent lady, Mr. Pickwick's indignation was excessive;
but as silence was proclaimed at the moment, he contented himself by
scorching the mob with a look of pity for their misguided minds, at
which they laughed more boisterously than ever.
"Silence!" roared the Mayor's attendants.
"Whiffin, proclaim silence," said the Mayor, with an air of pomp
befitting his lofty station. In obedience to this command the crier
performed another concerto on the bell, whereupon a gentleman in the
crowd called out "muffins;" which occasioned another laugh.
"Gentlemen," said the Mayor, at as loud a pitch as he could possibly
force his voice to. "Gentlemen. Brother electors of the Borough of
Eatanswill. We are met here to-day for the purpose of choosing a
representative in the room of our late----"
Here the Mayor was interrupted by a voice in the crowd.
"Suc-cess to the Mayor!" cried the voice, "and may he never desert the
nail and sarspan business, as he got his money by."
This allusion to the professional pursuits of the orator was received
with a storm of delight, which, with a bell accompaniment, rendered the
remainder of his speech inaudible, with the exception of the concluding
sentence, in which he thanked the meeting for the patient attention
with which they had heard him throughout,--an expression of gratitude
which elicited another burst of mirth, of about a quarter of an hour's
duration.
Next, a tall thin gentleman, in a very stiff white neckerchief, after
being repeatedly desired by the crowd to "send a boy home, to ask
whether he hadn't left his voice under the pillow," begged to nominate
a fit and proper person to represent them in Parliament. And when he
said it was Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, near Eatanswill,
the Fizkinites applauded, and the Slumkeyites groaned, so long, and so
loudly, that both he and the seconder might have sung comic songs in
lieu of speaking, without anybody's being a bit the wiser.
The friends of Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, having had their innings, a
little, choleric, pink-faced man stood forward to propose another
fit and proper person to represent the electors of Eatanswill in
Parliament; and very swimmingly the pink-faced gentleman would have got
on, if he had not been rather too choleric to entertain a sufficient
perception of the fun of the crowd. But after a very few sentences of
figurative eloquence, the pink-faced gentleman got from denouncing
those who interrupted him in the mob, to exchanging defiances with the
gentlemen on the hustings; whereupon arose an uproar which reduced
him to the necessity of expressing his feelings by serious pantomime,
which he did, and then left the stage to his seconder, who delivered
a written speech of half an hour's length, and wouldn't be stopped,
because he had sent it all to the _Eatanswill Gazette_, and the
_Eatanswill Gazette_ had already printed it, every word.
Then Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, near Eatanswill,
presented himself for the purpose of addressing the electors; which
he no sooner did, than the band employed by the Honourable Samuel
Slumkey, commenced performing with a power to which their strength
in the morning was a trifle; in return for which, the Buff crowd
belaboured the heads and shoulders of the Blue crowd; on which the Blue
crowd endeavoured to dispossess themselves of their very unpleasant
neighbours the Buff crowd; and a scene of struggling, and pushing,
and fighting, succeeded, to which we can no more do justice than the
Mayor could, although he issued imperative orders to twelve constables
to seize the ringleaders, who might amount in number to two hundred
and fifty, or thereabouts. At all these encounters, Horatio Fizkin,
Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, and his friends, waxed fierce and furious;
until at last Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, begged to ask
his opponent the Honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall, whether
that band played by his consent; which question the Honourable Samuel
Slumkey declining to answer, Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge,
shook his fist in the countenance of the Honourable Samuel Slumkey, of
Slumkey Hall; upon which the Honourable Samuel Slumkey, his blood being
up, defied Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, to mortal combat. At this violation
of all known rules and precedents of order, the Mayor commanded another
fantasia on the bell, and declared that he would bring before himself,
both Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, of Fizkin Lodge, and the Honourable
Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall, and bind them over to keep the peace.
Upon this terrific denunciation, the supporters of the two candidates
interfered, and after the friends of each party had quarrelled in
pairs, for three-quarters of an hour, Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, touched
his hat to the Honourable Samuel Slumkey: the Honourable Samuel Slumkey
touched his to Horatio Fizkin, Esquire: the band was stopped: the crowd
were partially quieted: and Horatio Fizkin, Esquire, was permitted to
proceed.
The speeches of the two candidates, though differing in every other
respect, afforded a beautiful tribute to the merit and high worth
of the electors of Eatanswill. Both expressed their opinion that a
more independent, a more enlightened, a more public-spirited, a more
noble-minded, a more disinterested set of men than those who had
promised to vote for him, never existed on earth; each darkly hinted
his suspicions that the electors in the opposite interest had certain
swinish and besotted infirmities which rendered them unfit for the
exercise of the important duties they were called upon to discharge.
Fizkin expressed his readiness to do anything he was wanted; Slumkey,
his determination to do nothing that was asked of him. Both said
that the trade, the manufactures, the commerce, the prosperity of
Eatanswill, would ever be dearer to their hearts than any earthly
object; and each had it in his power to state, with the utmost
confidence, that he was the man who would eventually be returned.
There was a show of hands; the Mayor decided in favour of the
Honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey Hall. Horatio Fizkin, Esquire,
of Fizkin Lodge, demanded a poll, and a poll was fixed accordingly.
Then a vote of thanks was moved to the Mayor for his able conduct in
the chair; and the Mayor, devoutly wishing that he had had a chair to
display his able conduct in (for he had been standing during the whole
proceedings), returned thanks. The processions re-formed, the carriages
rolled slowly through the crowd, and its members screeched and shouted
after them as their feelings or caprice dictated.
During the whole time of the polling, the town was in a perpetual
fever of excitement. Everything was conducted on the most liberal
and delightful scale. Excisable articles were remarkably cheap at
all the public-houses; and spring vans paraded the streets for the
accommodation of voters who were seized with any temporary dizziness in
the head--an epidemic which prevailed among the electors, during the
contest, to a most alarming extent, and under the influence of which
they might frequently be seen lying on the pavements in a state of
utter insensibility. A small body of electors remained unpolled on the
very last day. They were calculating and reflecting persons, who had
not yet been convinced by the arguments of either party, although they
had had frequent conferences with each. One hour before the close of
the poll, Mr. Perker solicited the honour of a private interview with
these intelligent, these noble, these patriotic men. It was granted.
His arguments were brief, but satisfactory. They went in a body to the
poll: and when they returned, the Honourable Samuel Slumkey, of Slumkey
Hall, was returned also.