[Illustration]
_Wherein Mr. Peter Magnus grows jealous, and the Middle-aged Lady
apprehensive, which brings the Pickwickians within the Grasp of
the Law_
When Mr. Pickwick descended to the room in which he and Mr. Peter
Magnus had spent the preceding evening, he found that gentleman with
the major part of the contents of the two bags, the leathern hat-box,
and the brown-paper parcel, displayed to all possible advantage on his
person, while he himself was pacing up and down the room in a state of
the utmost excitement and agitation.
"Good morning, sir," said Mr. Peter Magnus. "What do you think of this,
sir?"
"Very effective indeed," replied Mr. Pickwick, surveying the garments
of Mr. Peter Magnus with a good-natured smile.
"Yes, I think it'll do," said Mr. Magnus. "Mr. Pickwick, sir, I have
sent up my card."
"Have you?" said Mr. Pickwick.
"And the waiter brought back word that she would see me at eleven--at
eleven, sir; it only wants a quarter now."
"Very near the time," said Mr. Pickwick.
"Yes, it is rather near," replied Mr. Magnus, "rather too near to be
pleasant--eh! Mr. Pickwick, sir?"
"Confidence is a great thing in these cases," observed Mr. Pickwick.
"I believe it is, sir," said Mr. Peter Magnus. "I am very confident,
sir. Really, Mr. Pickwick, I do not see why a man should feel any
fear in such a case as this, sir. What is it, sir? There's nothing to
be ashamed of; it's a matter of mutual accommodation, nothing more.
Husband on one side, wife on the other. That's my view of the matter,
Mr. Pickwick."
"It is a very philosophical one," replied Mr. Pickwick. "But breakfast
is waiting, Mr. Magnus. Come."
Down they sat to breakfast, but it was evident, notwithstanding
the boasting of Mr. Peter Magnus, that he laboured under a very
considerable degree of nervousness, of which loss of appetite, a
propensity to upset the tea-things, a spectral attempt at drollery, and
an irresistible inclination to look at the clock, every other second,
were among the principal symptoms.
"He--he--he," tittered Mr. Magnus, affecting cheerfulness, and gasping
with agitation. "It only wants two minutes, Mr. Pickwick. Am I pale,
sir?"
"Not very," replied Mr. Pickwick.
There was a brief pause.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick; but have you ever done this sort of
thing in your time?" said Mr. Magnus.
"You mean proposing?" said Mr. Pickwick.
"Yes."
"Never," said Mr. Pickwick, with great energy, "never."
"You have no idea, then, how it's best to begin?" said Mr. Magnus.
"Why," said Mr. Pickwick, "I may have formed some ideas upon the
subject, but, as I have never submitted them to the test of experience,
I should be sorry if you were induced to regulate your proceedings by
them."
"I should feel very much obliged to you for any advice, sir," said Mr.
Magnus, taking another look at the clock: the hand of which was verging
on the five minutes past.
"Well, sir," said Mr. Pickwick, with the profound solemnity with which
that great man could, when he pleased, render his remarks so deeply
impressive: "I should commence, sir, with a tribute to the lady's
beauty and excellent qualities; from them, sir, I should diverge to my
own unworthiness."
"Very good," said Mr. Magnus.
"Unworthiness for _her_ only, mind, sir," resumed Mr. Pickwick; "for to
show that I was not wholly unworthy, sir, I should take a brief review
of my past life, and present condition. I should argue, by analogy,
that to anybody else, I must be a very desirable object. I should then
expatiate on the warmth of my love, and the depth of my devotion.
Perhaps I might then be tempted to seize her hand."
"Yes, I see," said Mr. Magnus; "that would be a very great point."
"I should then, sir," continued Mr. Pickwick, growing warmer as the
subject presented itself in more glowing colours before him: "I should
then, sir, come to the plain and simple question, 'Will you have me?'
I think I am justified in assuming, that upon this she would turn away
her head."
"You think that may be taken for granted?" said Mr. Magnus; "because if
she did not do that at the right place, it would be embarrassing."
"I think she would," said Mr. Pickwick. "Upon this, sir, I should
squeeze her hand, and I think--I _think_, Mr. Magnus--that after I had
done that, supposing there was no refusal, I should gently draw away
the handkerchief, which my slight knowledge of human nature leads me
to suppose the lady would be applying to her eyes at the moment, and
steal a respectful kiss. I think I should kiss her, Mr. Magnus; and
at this particular point, I am decidedly of opinion that if the lady
were going to take me at all, she would murmur into my ears a bashful
acceptance."
Mr. Magnus started; gazed on Mr. Pickwick's intelligent face for a
short time in silence; and then (the dial pointing to the ten minutes
past) shook him warmly by the hand, and rushed desperately from the
room.
Mr. Pickwick had taken a few strides to and fro; and the small hand of
the clock following the latter part of his example, had arrived at the
figure which indicates the half-hour, when the door suddenly opened. He
turned round to meet Mr. Peter Magnus, and encountered in his stead,
the joyous face of Mr. Tupman, the serene countenance of Mr. Winkle,
and the intellectual lineaments of Mr. Snodgrass. As Mr. Pickwick
greeted them, Mr. Peter Magnus tripped into the room.
"My friends, the gentleman I was speaking of--Mr. Magnus," said Mr.
Pickwick.
"Your servant, gentlemen," said Mr. Magnus, evidently in a high state
of excitement; "Mr. Pickwick, allow me to speak to you one moment, sir."
As he said this, Mr. Magnus harnessed his forefinger to Mr. Pickwick's
button-hole, and, drawing him to a window recess, said:
"Congratulate me, Mr. Pickwick; I followed your advice to the very
letter."
"And it was all correct, was it?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.
"It was, sir. Could not possibly have been better," replied Mr. Magnus.
"Mr. Pickwick, she is mine."
"I congratulate you with all my heart," replied Mr. Pickwick, warmly
shaking his new friend by the hand.
"You must see her, sir," said Mr. Magnus; "this way if you please.
Excuse us for one instant, gentlemen." Hurrying on in this way, Mr.
Peter Magnus drew Mr. Pickwick from the room. He paused at the next
door in the passage, and tapped gently thereat.
"Come in," said a female voice. And in they went.
"Miss Witherfield," said Mr. Magnus, "allow me to introduce my very
particular friend, Mr. Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick, I beg to make you known
to Miss Witherfield."
The lady was at the upper end of the room. As Mr. Pickwick bowed,
he took his spectacles from his waistcoat pocket and put them on;
a process which he had no sooner gone through, than, uttering an
exclamation of surprise, Mr. Pickwick retreated several paces, and
the lady, with a half-suppressed scream, hid her face in her hands,
and dropped into a chair; whereupon Mr. Peter Magnus was stricken
motionless on the spot, and gazed from one to the other, with a
countenance expressive of the extremities of horror and surprise.
This certainly was, to all appearance, very unaccountable behaviour;
but the fact is, that Mr. Pickwick no sooner put on his spectacles,
than he at once recognised in the future Mrs. Magnus the lady into
whose room he had so unwarrantably intruded on the previous night; and
the spectacles had no sooner crossed Mr. Pickwick's nose, than the lady
at once identified the countenance which she had seen surrounded by
all the horrors of a night-cap. So the lady screamed and Mr. Pickwick
started.
"Mr. Pickwick!" exclaimed Mr. Magnus, lost in astonishment, "what is
the meaning of this, sir? What is the meaning of it, sir?" added Mr.
Magnus, in a threatening and a louder tone.
"Sir," said Mr. Pickwick, somewhat indignant at the very sudden manner
in which Mr. Peter Magnus had conjugated himself into the imperative
mood, "I decline answering that question."
"You decline it, sir?" said Mr. Magnus.
"I do, sir," replied Mr. Pickwick: "I object to saying anything which
may compromise that lady, or awaken unpleasant recollections in her
breast, without her consent and permission."
"Miss Witherfield," said Mr. Peter Magnus, "do you know this person?"
"Know him!" repeated the middle-aged lady, hesitating.
"Yes, know him, ma'am. I said know him," replied Mr. Magnus, with
ferocity.
"I have seen him," replied the middle-aged lady.
"Where," inquired Mr. Magnus, "where?"
"That," said the middle-aged lady, rising from her seat, and averting
her head, "that I would not reveal for worlds."
"I understand you, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, "and respect your
delicacy; it shall never be revealed by _me_, depend upon it."
"Upon my word, ma'am," said Mr. Magnus, "considering the situation in
which I am placed with regard to yourself, you carry this matter off
with tolerable coolness--tolerable coolness, ma'am."
"Cruel Mr. Magnus!" said the middle-aged lady; here she wept very
copiously indeed.
"Address your observations to me, sir," interposed Mr. Pickwick; "I
alone am to blame, if anybody be."
"Oh! you alone are to blame, are you, sir?" said Mr. Magnus. "I--I--see
through this, sir. You repent of your determination now, do you?"
"My determination!" said Mr. Pickwick.
"Your determination, sir. Oh! don't stare at me, sir," said Mr.
Magnus; "I recollect your words last night, sir. You came down here,
sir, to expose the treachery and falsehood of an individual on
whose truth and honour you had placed implicit reliance--eh?" Here
Mr. Peter Magnus indulged in a prolonged sneer; and taking off his
green spectacles--which he probably found superfluous in his fit of
jealousy--rolled his little eyes about, in a manner frightful to behold.
"Eh?" said Mr. Magnus; and then he repeated the sneer with increased
effect. "But you shall answer it, sir."
"Answer what?" said Mr. Pickwick.
"Never mind, sir," replied Mr. Magnus, striding up and down the room.
"Never mind."
There must be something very comprehensive in this phrase of "Never
mind," for we do not recollect to have ever witnessed a quarrel in the
street, at a theatre, public room, or elsewhere, in which it has not
been the standard reply to all belligerent inquiries. "Do you call
yourself a gentleman, sir?"--"Never mind, sir." "Did I offer to say
anything to the young woman, sir?"--"Never mind, sir."--"Do you want
your head knocked up against that wall, sir?"--"Never mind, sir." It is
observable, too, that there would appear to be some hidden taunt in
this universal "Never mind," which rouses more indignation in the bosom
of the individual addressed, than the most lavish abuse could possibly
awaken.
We do not mean to assert that the application of this brevity to
himself, struck exactly that indignation to Mr. Pickwick's soul, which
it would infallibly have roused in a vulgar breast. We merely record
the fact that Mr. Pickwick opened the room door, and abruptly called
out, "Tupman, come here!"
Mr. Tupman immediately presented himself, with a look of very
considerable surprise.
"Tupman," said Mr. Pickwick, "a secret of some delicacy, in which that
lady is concerned, is the cause of a difference which has just arisen
between this gentleman and myself. When I assure him, in your presence,
that it has no relation to himself, and is not in any way connected
with his affairs, I need hardly beg you to take notice that if he
continue to dispute it, he expresses a doubt of my veracity, which I
shall consider extremely insulting." As Mr. Pickwick said this, he
looked encyclopædias at Mr. Peter Magnus.
Mr. Pickwick's upright and honourable bearing, coupled with that force
and energy of speech which so eminently distinguished him, would have
carried conviction to any reasonable mind; but unfortunately, at that
particular moment, the mind of Mr. Peter Magnus was in anything but
reasonable order. Consequently, instead of receiving Mr. Pickwick's
explanation as he ought to have done, he forthwith proceeded to work
himself into a red-hot, scorching, consuming passion, and to talk
about what was due to his own feelings, and all that sort of thing:
adding force to his declamation by striding to and fro, and pulling his
hair--amusements which he would vary occasionally by shaking his fist
in Mr. Pickwick's philanthropic countenance.
Mr. Pickwick, in his turn, conscious of his own innocence and
rectitude, and irritated by having unfortunately involved the
middle-aged lady in such an unpleasant affair, was not so quietly
disposed as was his wont. The consequence was, that words ran high, and
voices higher; and at length Mr. Magnus told Mr. Pickwick he should
hear from him; to which Mr. Pickwick replied, with laudable politeness,
that the sooner he heard from him the better; whereupon the middle-aged
lady rushed in terror from the room, out of which Mr. Tupman dragged
Mr. Pickwick, leaving Mr. Peter Magnus to himself and meditation.
If the middle-aged lady had mingled much with the busy world, or had
profited at all by the manners and customs of those who make the laws
and set the fashions, she would have known that this sort of ferocity
is the most harmless thing in nature; but as she had lived for the most
part in the country, and never read the parliamentary debates, she
was little versed in these particular refinements of civilised life.
Accordingly, when she had gained her bed-chamber, bolted herself in,
and begun to meditate on the scene she had just witnessed, the most
terrific pictures of slaughter and destruction presented themselves
to her imagination; among which, a full-length portrait of Mr. Peter
Magnus borne home by four men, with the embellishment of a whole
barrel-full of bullets in his left side, was among the very least. The
more the middle-aged lady meditated, the more terrified she became;
and at length she determined to repair to the house of the principal
magistrate of the town, and request him to secure the persons of Mr.
Pickwick and Mr. Tupman without delay.
To this decision the middle-aged lady was impelled by a variety of
considerations, the chief of which, was the incontestable proof it
would afford of her devotion to Mr. Peter Magnus, and her anxiety for
his safety. She was too well acquainted with his jealous temperament to
venture the slightest allusion to the real cause of her agitation on
beholding Mr. Pickwick; and she trusted to her own influence and power
of persuasion with the little man, to quell his boisterous jealousy,
supposing that Mr. Pickwick were removed, and no fresh quarrel could
arise. Filled with these reflections, the middle-aged lady arrayed
herself in her bonnet and shawl, and repaired to the Mayor's dwelling
straightway.
Now George Nupkins, Esquire, the principal magistrate aforesaid, was as
grand a personage as the fastest walker would find out, between sunrise
and sunset, on the twenty-first of June, which being, according to the
almanacs, the longest day in the whole year, would naturally afford
him the longest period for his search. On this particular morning,
Mr. Nupkins was in a state of the utmost excitement and irritation,
for there had been a rebellion in the town; all the day-scholars
at the largest day-school had conspired to break the windows of an
obnoxious apple-seller, and had hooted the beadle, and pelted the
constabulary--an elderly gentleman in top-boots, who had been called
out to repress the tumult, and who had been a peace-officer, man and
boy, for half a century at least. And Mr. Nupkins was sitting in his
easy chair, frowning with majesty, and boiling with rage, when a lady
was announced on pressing, private, and particular business. Mr.
Nupkins looked calmly terrible, and commanded that the lady should
be shown in: which command, like all the mandates of emperors, and
magistrates, and other great potentates of the earth, was forthwith
obeyed; and Miss Witherfield, interestingly agitated, was ushered in
accordingly.
"Muzzle!" said the magistrate.
Muzzle was an undersized footman, with a long body and short legs.
"Muzzle!"
"Yes, your worship."
"Place a chair, and leave the room."
"Yes, your worship."
"Now, ma'am, will you state your business?" said the magistrate.
"It is of a very painful kind, sir," said Miss Witherfield.
"Very likely, ma'am," said the magistrate. "Compose your feelings,
ma'am." Here Mr. Nupkins looked benignant. "And then tell me what legal
business brings you here, ma'am." Here the magistrate triumphed over
the man; and he looked stern again.
"It is very distressing to me, sir, to give this information," said
Miss Witherfield, "but I fear a duel is going to be fought here."
"Here, ma'am?" said the magistrate. "Where, ma'am?"
"In Ipswich."
"In Ipswich, ma'am! A duel in Ipswich!" said the magistrate, perfectly
aghast at the notion. "Impossible, ma'am; nothing of the kind can be
contemplated in this town, I am persuaded. Bless my soul, ma'am, are
you aware of the activity of our local magistracy? Do you happen to
have heard, ma'am, that I rushed into a prize-ring on the fourth of May
last, attended by only sixty special constables; and, at the hazard of
falling a sacrifice to the angry passions of an infuriated multitude,
prohibited a pugilistic contest between the Middlesex Dumpling and the
Suffolk Bantam? A duel in Ipswich, ma'am! I don't think--I do _not_
think," said the magistrate, reasoning with himself, "that any two men
can have had the hardihood to plan such a breach of the peace, in this
town."
"My information is unfortunately but too correct," said the middle-aged
lady, "I was present at the quarrel."
"It's a most extraordinary thing," said the astounded magistrate.
"Muzzle!"
"Yes, your worship."
"Send Mr. Jinks here, directly! Instantly."
"Yes, your worship."
Muzzle retired; and a pale, sharp-nosed, half-fed, shabbily-clad clerk,
of middle age, entered the room.
"Mr. Jinks," said the magistrate. "Mr. Jinks."
"Sir?" said Mr. Jinks.
"This lady, Mr. Jinks, has come here, to give information of an
intended duel in this town."
Mr. Jinks, not knowing exactly what to do, smiled a dependent's smile.
"What are you laughing at, Mr. Jinks?" said the magistrate.
Mr. Jinks looked serious, instantly.
"Mr. Jinks," said the magistrate, "you're a fool."
Mr. Jinks looked humbly at the great man, and bit the top of his pen.
"You may see something very comical in this information, sir; but I can
tell you this, Mr. Jinks; that you have very little to laugh at," said
the magistrate.
The hungry-looking Jinks sighed, as if he were quite aware of the fact
of his having very little indeed, to be merry about; and, being ordered
to take the lady's information, shambled to a seat, and proceeded to
write it down.
"This man, Pickwick, is the principal, I understand?" said the
magistrate, when the statement was finished.
"He is," said the middle-aged lady.
"And the other rioter--what's his name, Mr. Jinks?"
"Tupman, sir."
"Tupman is the second?"
"Yes."
"The other principal, you say, has absconded, ma'am?"
"Yes," replied Miss Witherfield, with a short cough.
"Very well," said the magistrate. "These are two cut-throats from
London, who have come down here to destroy His Majesty's population;
thinking that at this distance from the capital, the arm of the law
is weak and paralysed. They shall be made an example of. Draw up the
warrants, Mr. Jinks. Muzzle!"
"Yes, your worship."
"Is Grummer down-stairs?"
"Yes, your worship."
"Send him up."
The obsequious Muzzle retired, and presently returned, introducing the
elderly gentleman in the top-boots, who was chiefly remarkable for a
bottle-nose, a hoarse voice, a snuff-coloured surtout, and a wandering
eye.
"Grummer," said the magistrate.
"Your wash-up."
"Is the town quiet now?"
"Pretty well, your wash-up," replied Grummer. "Pop'lar feeling has in a
measure subsided, consekens o' the boys having dispersed to cricket."
"Nothing but vigorous measures will do in these times, Grummer," said
the magistrate, in a determined manner. "If the authority of the King's
officers is set at nought, we must have the Riot Act read. If the civil
power cannot protect these windows, Grummer, the military must protect
the civil power, and the windows too. I believe that is a maxim of the
constitution, Mr. Jinks?"
"Certainly, sir," said Jinks.
"Very good," said the magistrate, signing the warrants. "Grummer, you
will bring these persons before me, this afternoon. You will find them
at the Great White Horse. You recollect the case of the Middlesex
Dumpling and the Suffolk Bantam, Grummer?"
Mr. Grummer intimated, by a retrospective shake of the head, that he
should never forget it--as indeed it was not likely he would, so long
as it continued to be cited daily.
"This is even more unconstitutional," said the magistrate; "this is
even a greater breach of the peace, and a grosser infringement of His
Majesty's prerogative. I believe duelling is one of His Majesty's most
undoubted prerogatives, Mr. Jinks?"
"Expressly stipulated in Magna Charta, sir," said Mr. Jinks.
"One of the brightest jewels in the British crown, wrung from His
Majesty by the Barons, I believe, Mr. Jinks?" said the magistrate.
"Just so, sir," replied Mr. Jinks.
"Very well," said the magistrate, drawing himself up proudly, "it
shall not be violated in this portion of his dominions. Grummer,
procure assistance, and execute these warrants with as little delay as
possible. Muzzle!"
"Yes, your worship."
"Show the lady out."
Miss Witherfield retired, deeply impressed with the magistrates'
learning and research; Mr. Nupkins retired to lunch; Mr. Jinks retired
within himself--that being the only retirement he had, except the
sofa-bedstead in the small parlour which was occupied by his landlady's
family in the daytime--and Mr. Grummer retired, to wipe out, by his
mode of discharging his present commission, the insult which had been
fastened upon himself, and the other representative of His Majesty--the
beadle--in the course of the morning.
While these resolute and determined preparations for the conservation
of the King's peace were pending, Mr. Pickwick and his friends,
wholly unconscious of the mighty events in progress, had sat quietly
down to dinner; and very talkative and companionable they all were.
Mr. Pickwick was in the very act of relating his adventure of the
preceding night, to the great amusement of his followers, Mr. Tupman
especially, when the door opened and a somewhat forbidding countenance
peeped into the room. The eyes in the forbidding countenance looked
very earnestly at Mr. Pickwick, for several seconds, and were to
all appearance satisfied with their investigation; for the body to
which the forbidding countenance belonged, slowly brought itself into
the apartment, and presented the form of an elderly individual in
top-boots--not to keep the reader any longer in suspense, in short, the
eyes were the wandering eyes of Mr. Grummer, and the body was the body
of the same gentleman.
Mr. Grummer's mode of proceeding was professional, but peculiar. His
first act was to bolt the door on the inside; his second, to polish his
head and countenance very carefully with a cotton handkerchief; his
third, to place his hat, with the cotton handkerchief in it, on the
nearest chair; and his fourth, to produce from the breast-pocket of his
coat a short truncheon, surmounted by a brazen crown, with which he
beckoned to Mr. Pickwick with a grave and ghost-like air.
Mr. Snodgrass was the first to break the astonished silence. He looked
steadily at Mr. Grummer for a brief space, and then said emphatically:
"This is a private room, sir. A private room."
Mr. Grummer shook his head, and replied, "No room's private to His
Majesty when the street door's once passed. That's law. Some people
maintains that an Englishman's house is his castle. That's gammon."
The Pickwickians gazed on each other with wondering eyes.
"Which is Mr. Tupman?" inquired Mr. Grummer. He had an intuitive
perception of Mr. Pickwick; he knew _him_ at once.
"My name's Tupman," said that gentleman.
"My name's Law," said Mr. Grummer.
"What?" said Mr. Tupman.
"Law," replied Mr. Grummer, "law, civil power, and exekative; them's
my titles; here's my authority. Blank Tupman, blank Pickvick--against
the peace of our sufferin Lord the King--stattit in that case made
and purwided--and all regular. I apprehend you Pickvick! Tupman--the
aforesaid."
"What do you mean by this insolence?" said Mr. Tupman, starting up.
"Leave the room!"
"Halloo," said Mr. Grummer, retreating very expeditiously to the door,
and opening it an inch or two, "Dubbley."
"Well," said a deep voice from the passage.
"Come for'ard, Dubbley."
At the word of command, a dirty-faced man, something over six feet
high, and stout in proportion, squeezed himself through the half-open
door (making his face very red in the process), and entered the room.
"Is the other specials outside, Dubbley?" inquired Mr. Grummer.
Mr. Dubbley, who was a man of few words, nodded assent.
"Order in the diwision under your charge, Dubbley," said Mr. Grummer.
Mr. Dubbley did as he was desired; and half a dozen men, each with a
short truncheon and a brass crown, flocked into the room. Mr. Grummer
pocketed his staff and looked at Mr. Dubbley; Mr. Dubbley pocketed
_his_ staff and looked at the division; the division pocketed _their_
staffs and looked at Messrs. Tupman and Pickwick.
Mr. Pickwick and his followers rose as one man.
"What is the meaning of this atrocious intrusion upon my privacy?" said
Mr. Pickwick.
"Who dares apprehend me?" said Mr. Tupman.
"What do you want here, scoundrels?" said Mr. Snodgrass.
Mr. Winkle said nothing, but he fixed his eyes on Grummer, and bestowed
a look upon him, which, if he had had any feeling, must have pierced
his brain. As it was, however, it had no visible effect upon him
whatever.
When the executive perceived that Mr. Pickwick and his friends were
disposed to resist the authority of the law, they very significantly
turned up their coat sleeves, as if knocking them down in the first
instance, and taking them up afterwards, were a mere professional act
which had only to be thought of, to be done, as a matter of course.
This demonstration was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He conferred a few
moments with Mr. Tupman apart, and then signified his readiness to
proceed to the Mayor's residence, merely begging the parties then and
there assembled, to take notice, that it was his firm intention to
resent this monstrous invasion of his privileges as an Englishman, the
instant he was at liberty; whereat the parties then and there assembled
laughed very heartily, with the single exception of Mr. Grummer, who
seemed to consider that any slight cast upon the divine right of
magistrates, was a species of blasphemy, not to be tolerated.
But when Mr. Pickwick had signified his readiness to bow to the laws of
his country; and just when the waiters and hostlers, and chamber-maids,
and post-boys, who had anticipated a delightful commotion from his
threatened obstinacy, began to turn away, disappointed and disgusted,
a difficulty arose which had not been foreseen. With every sentiment
of veneration for the constituted authorities, Mr. Pickwick resolutely
protested against making his appearance in the public streets,
surrounded and guarded by the officers of justice, like a common
criminal. Mr. Grummer, in the then disturbed state of public feeling
(for it was half-holiday, and the boys had not yet gone home), as
resolutely protested against walking on the opposite side of the way,
and taking Mr. Pickwick's parole that he would go straight to the
magistrate's; and both Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman as strenuously
objected to the expense of a post-coach, which was the only respectable
conveyance that could be obtained. The dispute ran high, and the
dilemma lasted long; and just as the executive were on the point of
overcoming Mr. Pickwick's objection to walking to the magistrate's,
by the trite expedient of carrying him thither, it was recollected
that there stood in the inn-yard, an old sedan-chair, which having
been originally built for a gouty gentleman with funded property,
would hold Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman, at least as conveniently as a
modern post-chaise. The chair was hired, and brought into the hall;
Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman squeezed themselves inside, and pulled
down the blinds; a couple of chairmen were speedily found; and the
procession started in grand order. The specials surrounded the body of
the vehicle; Mr. Grummer and Mr. Dubbley marched triumphantly in front;
Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle walked arm in arm behind; and the unsoaped
of Ipswich brought up the rear.
The shopkeepers of the town, although they had a very indistinct
notion of the nature of the offence, could not but be much edified
and gratified by this spectacle. Here was the strong arm of the law,
coming down with twenty gold-beater force, upon two offenders from
the metropolis itself; the mighty engine was directed by their own
magistrate, and worked by their own officers; and both the criminals,
by their united efforts, were securely shut up in the narrow compass of
one sedan-chair. Many were the expressions of approval and admiration
which greeted Mr. Grummer, as he headed the cavalcade, staff in hand;
loud and long were the shouts raised by the unsoaped; and amidst these
united testimonials of public approbation, the procession moved slowly
and majestically along.
Mr. Weller, habited in his morning jacket with the black calico
sleeves, was returning in a rather desponding state from an
unsuccessful survey of the mysterious house with the green gate,
when raising his eyes, he beheld a crowd pouring down the street,
surrounding an object which had very much the appearance of a
sedan-chair. Willing to divert his thoughts from the failure of his
enterprise, he stepped aside to see the crowd pass; and finding that
they were cheering away, very much to their own satisfaction, forthwith
began (by way of raising his spirits) to cheer too, with all his might
and main.
Mr. Grummer passed, and Mr. Dubbley passed, and the sedan passed, and
the body-guard of specials passed, and Sam was still responding to the
enthusiastic cheers of the mob, and waving his hat about as if he were
in the very last extreme of the wildest joy (though, of course, he had
not the faintest idea of the matter in hand), when he was suddenly
stopped by the unexpected appearance of Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass.
"What's the row, gen'l'm'n?" cried Sam. "Who have they got in this here
watch-box in mournin'?"
Both gentlemen replied together, but their words were lost in the
tumult.
"Who?" cried Sam again.
Once more was a joint reply returned; and, though the words were
inaudible, Sam saw by the motion of the two pairs of lips that they had
uttered the magic word "Pickwick."
This was enough. In another minute Mr. Weller had made his way through
the crowd, stopped the chairmen, and confronted the portly Grummer.
"Hallo, old gen'l'm'n!" said Sam. "Who have you got in this here
conwayance?"
"Stand back," said Mr. Grummer, whose dignity, like the dignity of
a great many other men, had been wondrously augmented by a little
popularity.
"Knock him down, if he don't," said Mr. Dubbley.
"I'm wery much obliged to you, old gen'l'm'n!" replied Sam, "for
consulting my conwenience, and I'm still more obliged to the other
gen'l'm'n, who looks as if he'd just escaped from a giant's carrywan,
for his wery 'ansome suggestion; but I should perfer your givin' me
a answer to my question, if it's all the same to you.--How are you,
sir?" This last observation was addressed with a patronising air to Mr.
Pickwick, who was peeping through the front window.
Mr. Grummer, perfectly speechless with indignation, dragged the
truncheon with the brass crown from its particular pocket, and
flourished it before Sam's eyes.
"Ah," said Sam, "it's wery pretty, 'specially the crown, which is
uncommon like the real one."
"Stand back!" said the outraged Mr. Grummer. By way of adding force to
the command, he thrust the brass emblem of royalty into Sam's neckcloth
with one hand, and seized Sam's collar with the other: a compliment
which Mr. Weller returned by knocking him down out of hand: having
previously, with the utmost consideration, knocked down a chairman for
him to lie upon.
Whether Mr. Winkle was seized with a temporary attack of that species
of insanity which originates in a sense of injury, or animated by this
display of Mr. Weller's valour, is uncertain; but certain it is, that
he no sooner saw Mr. Grummer fall than he made a terrific onslaught
on a small boy who stood next to him; whereupon Mr. Snodgrass, in
a truly Christian spirit, and in order that he might take no one
unawares, announced in a very loud tone that he was going to begin,
and proceeded to take off his coat with the utmost deliberation. He
was immediately surrounded and secured; and it is but common justice
both to him and Mr. Winkle to say, that they did not make the slightest
attempt to rescue either themselves or Mr. Weller: who, after a most
vigorous resistance, was overpowered by numbers and taken prisoner. The
procession then re-formed; the chairmen resumed their stations; and the
march was re-commenced.
Mr. Pickwick's indignation during the whole of this proceeding was
beyond all bounds. He could just see Sam upsetting the specials, and
flying about in every direction; and that was all he could see, for the
sedan doors wouldn't open, and the blinds wouldn't pull up. At length,
with the assistance of Mr. Tupman, he managed to push open the roof;
and mounting on the seat, and steadying himself as well as he could, by
placing his hand on that gentleman's shoulder, Mr. Pickwick proceeded
to address the multitude; to dwell upon the unjustifiable manner in
which he had been treated; and to call upon them to take notice that
his servant had been first assaulted. In this order they reached the
magistrate's house; the chairmen trotting, the prisoners following, Mr.
Pickwick oratorising, and the crowd shouting.