[Illustration]
_Records a touching Act of delicate Feeling, not unmixed with
Pleasantry, achieved and performed by Messrs. Dodson and Fogg_
It was within a week of the close of the month of July, that a hackney
cabriolet, number unrecorded, was seen to proceed at a rapid pace up
Goswell Street; three people were squeezed into it besides the driver,
who sat in his own particular little dickey at the side; over the apron
were hung two shawls, belonging to two small vixenish-looking ladies
under the apron; between whom, compressed into a very small compass,
was stowed away a gentleman of heavy and subdued demeanour, who,
whenever he ventured to make an observation, was snapped up short by
one of the vixenish ladies before-mentioned. Lastly, the two vixenish
ladies and the heavy gentleman were giving the driver contradictory
directions, all tending to the one point that he should stop at Mrs.
Bardell's door; which the heavy gentleman, in direct opposition to, and
defiance of, the vixenish ladies, contended was a green door and not a
yellow one.
"Stop at the house with the green door, driver," said the heavy
gentleman.
"Oh! You perwerse creetur!" exclaimed one of the vixenish ladies.
"Drive to the 'ouse with the yellow door, cabmin."
Upon this, the cabman, who in a sudden effort to pull up at the house
with the green door had pulled the horse up so high that he nearly
pulled him backward into the cabriolet, let the animal's fore-legs down
to the ground again, and paused.
"Now vere am I to pull up?" inquired the driver. "Settle it among
yourselves. All I ask is, vere?"
Here the contest was renewed with increased violence; and the horse
being troubled with a fly on his nose, the cabman humanely employed his
leisure in lashing him about on the head, on the counter-irritation
principle.
"Most wotes carries the day!" said one of the vixenish ladies at
length. "The 'ouse with the yellow door, cabmin."
But after the cabriolet had dashed up, in splendid style, to the
house with the yellow door: "making," as one of the vixenish ladies
triumphantly said, "acterrally more noise than if one had come in
one's own carriage"--and after the driver had dismounted to assist the
ladies in getting out--the small round head of Master Thomas Bardell
was thrust out of the one pair window of a house with a red door, a few
numbers off.
"Aggrawatin' thing!" said the vixenish lady last mentioned, darting a
withering glance at the heavy gentleman.
"My dear, it's not my fault," said the gentleman.
"Don't talk to me, you creetur, don't," retorted the lady. "The house
with the red door, cabmin. Oh! If ever a woman was troubled with a
ruffinly creetur, that takes a pride and pleasure in disgracing his
wife on every possible occasion afore strangers, I am that woman!"
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Raddle," said the other little
woman, who was no other than Mrs. Cluppins.
"What have I been a doing of?" asked Mr. Raddle.
"Don't talk to me, don't, you brute, for fear I should be perwoked to
forgit my sect and strike you!" said Mrs. Raddle.
While this dialogue was going on, the driver was most ignominiously
leading the horse, by the bridle, up to the house with the red door,
which Master Bardell had already opened. Here was a mean and low way
of arriving at a friend's house! No dashing up, with all the fire and
fury of the animal; no jumping down of the driver; no loud knocking at
the door; no opening of the apron with a crash at the very last moment,
for fear of the ladies sitting in a draught; and then the man handing
the shawls out, afterwards, as if he were a private coachman! The whole
edge of the thing had been taken off; it was flatter than walking.
"Well, Tommy," said Mrs. Cluppins, "how's your poor dear mother?"
"Oh, she's very well," replied Master Bardell. "She's in the front
parlour, all ready. I'm ready too, I am." Here Master Bardell put his
hands in his pockets, and jumped off and on the bottom step of the door.
"Is anybody else a goin', Tommy?" said Mrs. Cluppins, arranging her
pelerine.
"Mrs. Sanders is going, she is," replied Tommy. "I'm going too, I am."
"Drat the boy!" said little Mrs. Cluppins. "He thinks of nobody but
himself. Here, Tommy, dear."
"Well?" said Master Bardell.
"Who else is a goin', lovey?" said Mrs. Cluppins in an insinuating
manner.
"Oh! Mrs. Rogers is a goin'," replied Master Bardell, opening his eyes
very wide as he delivered the intelligence.
"What! The lady as has taken the lodgings?" ejaculated Mrs. Cluppins.
Master Bardell put his hands deeper down into his pockets, and nodded
exactly thirty-five times, to imply that it was the lady lodger, and no
other.
"Bless us!" said Mrs. Cluppins. "It's quite a party!"
"Ah, if you knew what was in the cupboard, you'd say so," replied
Master Bardell.
"What is there, Tommy?" said Mrs. Cluppins, coaxingly. "You'll tell
_me_, Tommy, I know."
"No, I won't," replied Master Bardell, shaking his head, and applying
himself to the bottom step again.
"Drat the child!" muttered Mrs. Cluppins. "What a prowokin' little
wretch it is! Come, Tommy, tell your dear Cluppy."
"Mother said I wasn't to," rejoined Master Bardell. "I'm a goin' to
have some, I am." Cheered by this prospect, the precocious boy applied
himself to his infantile treadmill with increased vigour.
The above examination of a child of tender years took place while
Mr. and Mrs. Raddle and the cab-driver were having an altercation
concerning the fare: which, terminating at this point in favour of the
cabman, Mrs. Raddle came up tottering.
"Lauk, Mary Ann! what's the matter?" said Mrs. Cluppins.
"It's put me all over in such a tremble, Betsy," replied Mrs. Raddle.
"Raddle ain't like a man; he leaves everythink to me."
This was scarcely fair upon the unfortunate Mr. Raddle, who had been
thrust aside by his good lady in the commencement of the dispute, and
peremptorily commanded to hold his tongue. He had no opportunity of
defending himself, however, for Mrs. Raddle gave unequivocal signs
of fainting; which being perceived from the parlour window, Mrs.
Bardell, Mrs. Sanders, the lodger, and the lodger's servant, darted
precipitately out, and conveyed her into the house: all talking at
the same time, and giving utterance to various expressions of pity
and condolence, as if she were one of the most suffering mortals on
earth. Being conveyed into the front parlour, she was there deposited
on a sofa; and the lady from the first floor running up _to_ the first
floor, returned with a bottle of sal volatile, which, holding Mrs.
Raddle tight round the neck, she applied in all womanly kindness and
pity to her nose, until that lady with many plunges and struggles was
fain to declare herself decidedly better.
"Ah, poor thing!" said Mrs. Rogers, "I know what her feelin's is, too
well."
"Ah, poor thing! so do I," said Mrs. Sanders: and then all the ladies
moaned in unison, and said they knew what it was, and they pitied her
from their hearts, they did. Even the lodger's little servant, who was
thirteen years old, and three feet high, murmured her sympathy.
"But what's been the matter?" said Mrs. Bardell.
"Ah, what has decomposed you, ma'am?" inquired Mrs. Rogers.
"I have been a good deal flurried," replied Mrs. Raddle, in a
reproachful manner. Thereupon the ladies cast indignant looks at Mr.
Raddle.
"Why, the fact is," said that unhappy gentleman, stepping forward,
"when we alighted at this door, a dispute arose with the driver of the
cabrioily----" A loud scream from his wife, at the mention of this
word, rendered all further explanation inaudible.
"You'd better leave us to bring her round, Raddle," said Mrs. Cluppins.
"She'll never get better as long as you're here."
All the ladies concurred in this opinion; so Mr. Raddle was pushed
out of the room, and requested to give himself an airing in the back
yard. Which he did for about a quarter of an hour, when Mrs. Bardell
announced to him with a solemn face that he might come in now, but
that he must be very careful how he behaved towards his wife. She knew
he didn't mean to be unkind; but Mary Ann was very far from strong,
and, if he didn't take care, he might lose her when he least expected
it, which would be a very dreadful reflection for him afterwards; and
so on. All this Mr. Raddle heard with great submission, and presently
returned to the parlour in a most lamb-like manner.
"Why, Mrs. Roger, ma'am," said Mrs. Bardell, "you've never been
introduced, I declare! Mr. Raddle, ma'am; Mrs. Cluppins, ma'am; Mrs.
Raddle, ma'am."
"Which is Mrs. Cluppins's sister," suggested Mrs. Sanders.
"Oh, indeed!" said Mrs. Rogers, graciously; for she was the lodger, and
her servant was in waiting, so she was more gracious than intimate, in
right of her position. "Oh, indeed!"
Mrs. Raddle smiled sweetly, Mr. Raddle bowed, and Mrs. Cluppins said
"she was sure she was very happy to have a opportunity of being known
to a lady which she had heerd so much in favour of, as Mrs. Rogers."
A compliment which the last-named lady acknowledged with graceful
condescension.
"Well, Mr. Raddle," said Mrs. Bardell; "I'm sure you ought to feel very
much honoured at you and Tommy being the only gentlemen to escort so
many ladies all the way to the Spaniards, at Hampstead. Don't you think
he ought, Mrs. Rogers, ma'am?"
"Oh, certainly, ma'am," said Mrs. Rogers; after whom all the other
ladies responded "Oh, certainly."
"Of course I feel it, ma'am," said Mr. Raddle, rubbing his hands, and
evincing a slight tendency to brighten up a little. "Indeed, to tell
you the truth, I said, as we was a coming along in the cabrioily----"
At the recapitulation of the word which awakened so many painful
recollections, Mrs. Raddle applied her handkerchief to her eyes again,
and uttered a half-suppressed scream; so Mrs. Bardell frowned upon
Mr. Raddle, to intimate that he had better not say anything more, and
desired Mrs. Rogers's servant, with an air, to "put on the wine."
This was the signal for displaying the hidden treasures of the
closet, which comprised sundry plates of oranges and biscuits, and
a bottle of old crusted port--that at one and nine--with another of
the celebrated East India sherry at fourteen-pence, which were all
produced in honour of the lodger, and afforded unlimited satisfaction
to everybody. After great consternation had been excited in the mind
of Mrs. Cluppins, by an attempt on the part of Tommy to recount how he
had been cross-examined regarding the cupboard then in action (which
was fortunately nipped in the bud by his imbibing half a glass of the
old crusted "the wrong way," and thereby endangering his life for some
seconds), the party walked forth in quest of a Hampstead stage. This
was soon found, and in a couple of hours they all arrived safely in the
Spaniards' Tea-gardens, where the luckless Mr. Raddle's very first act
nearly occasioned his good lady a relapse; it being neither more nor
less than to order tea for seven, whereas (as the ladies one and all
remarked), what could have been easier than for Tommy to have drank
out of anybody's cup--or everybody's, if that was all--when the waiter
wasn't looking: which would have saved one head of tea, and the tea
just as good!
However, there was no help for it, and the tea-tray came, with seven
cups and saucers, and bread and butter on the same scale. Mrs. Bardell
was unanimously voted into the chair, and Mrs Rogers being stationed on
her right hand, and Mrs. Raddle on her left, the meal proceeded with
great merriment and success.
"How sweet the country is, to be sure!" sighed Mrs. Rogers; "I almost
wish I lived in it always."
"Oh, you wouldn't like that, ma'am," replied Mrs. Bardell, rather
hastily; for it was not at all advisable, with reference to the
lodgings, to encourage such notions; "you wouldn't like it, ma'am."
"Oh! I should think you was a deal too lively and sought-after to be
content with the country, ma'am," said little Mrs. Cluppins.
"Perhaps I am, ma'am. Perhaps I am," sighed the first-floor lodger.
"For lone people as have got nobody to care for them, or take care
of them, or as have been hurt in their mind, or that kind of thing,"
observed Mr. Raddle, plucking up a little cheerfulness, and looking
round, "the country is all very well. The country for a wounded spirit,
they say."
Now, of all the things in the world that the unfortunate man could have
said, any would have been preferable to this. Of course Mrs. Bardell
burst into tears, and requested to be led from the table instantly;
upon which the affectionate child began to cry too, most dismally.
"Would anybody believe, ma'am," exclaimed Mrs. Raddle, turning fiercely
to the first-floor lodger, "that a woman could be married to such a
unmanly creetur, which can tamper with a woman's feelings as he does,
every hour in the day, ma'am?"
"My dear," remonstrated Mr. Raddle, "I didn't mean anything, my dear."
"You didn't mean!" repeated Mrs. Raddle, with great scorn and contempt.
"Go away. I can't bear the sight on you, you brute."
"You must not flurry yourself, Mary Ann," interposed Mrs. Cluppins.
"You really must consider yourself, my dear, which you never do. Now go
away, Raddle, there's a good soul, or you'll only aggravate her."
"You had better take your tea by yourself, sir, indeed," said Mrs.
Rogers, again applying the smelling-bottle.
Mrs. Sanders, who according to custom was very busy with the bread and
butter, expressed the same opinion, and Mr. Raddle quietly retired.
After this, there was a great hoisting up of Master Bardell, who was
rather a large size for hugging, into his mother's arms: in which
operation he got his boots in the tea-board, and occasioned some
confusion among the cups and saucers. But that description of fainting
fits, which is contagious among ladies, seldom lasts long; so when he
had been well kissed and a little cried over, Mrs. Bardell recovered,
set him down again, wondered how she could have been so foolish, and
poured out some more tea.
It was at this moment that the sound of approaching wheels was heard,
and that the ladies, looking up, saw a hackney-coach stop at the
garden-gate.
"More company!" said Mrs. Sanders.
"It's a gentleman," said Mrs. Raddle.
"Well, if it ain't Mr. Jackson, the young man from Dodson and Fogg's!"
cried Mrs. Bardell. "Why, gracious! Surely Mr. Pickwick can't have paid
the damages."
"Or hoffered marriage!" said Mrs. Cluppins.
"Dear me, how slow the gentleman is," exclaimed Mrs. Rogers: "Why
doesn't he make haste!"
[Illustration: _A shabby man in black leggings_]
As the lady spoke these words, Mr. Jackson turned from the coach where
he had been addressing some observations to a shabby man in black
leggings, who had just emerged from the vehicle with a thick ash-stick
in his hand, and made his way to the place where the ladies were
seated; winding his hair round the brim of his hat as he came along.
"Is anything the matter? Has anything taken place, Mr. Jackson?" said
Mrs. Bardell, eagerly.
"Nothing whatever, ma'am," replied Mr. Jackson. "How de do, ladies? I
have to ask pardon, ladies, for intruding--but the law, ladies, the
law." With this apology Mr. Jackson smiled, made a comprehensive bow,
and gave his hair another wind. Mrs. Rogers whispered Mrs. Raddle that
he was really an elegant young man.
"I called in Goswell Street," resumed Jackson, "and hearing that you
were here, from the slavey, took a coach and came on. Our people want
you down in the city directly, Mrs. Bardell."
"Lor!" ejaculated that lady, starting at the sudden nature of the
communication.
"Yes," said Jackson, biting his lips. "It's very important and pressing
business which can't be postponed on any account. Indeed, Dodson
expressly said so to me, and so did Fogg. I've kept the coach on
purpose for you to go back in."
"How very strange!" exclaimed Mrs. Bardell.
The ladies agreed that it _was_ very strange, but were unanimously of
opinion that it must be very important, or Dodson and Fogg would never
have sent; and further, that the business being urgent, she ought to
repair to Dodson and Fogg's without any delay.
There was a certain degree of pride and importance about being wanted
by one's lawyers in such a monstrous hurry, that was by no means
displeasing to Mrs. Bardell, especially as it might be reasonably
supposed to enhance her consequence in the eyes of the first-floor
lodger. She simpered a little, affected extreme vexation and
hesitation, and at last arrived at the conclusion that she supposed she
must go.
"But won't you refresh yourself after your walk, Mr. Jackson?" said
Mrs. Bardell, persuasively.
"Why, really there ain't much time to lose," replied Jackson; "and I've
got a friend here," he continued, looking towards the man with the ash
stick.
"Oh, ask your friend to come here, sir," said Mrs. Bardell. "Pray ask
your friend here, sir."
"Why, thankee, I'd rather not," said Mr. Jackson, with some
embarrassment of manner. "He's not much used to ladies' society, and it
makes him bashful. If you'll order the waiter to deliver him anything
short, he won't drink it off at once, won't he--only try him!" Mr.
Jackson's fingers wandered playfully round his nose, at this portion of
his discourse, to warn his hearers that he was speaking ironically.
The waiter was at once despatched to the bashful gentleman, and the
bashful gentleman took something; Mr. Jackson also took something, and
the ladies took something, for hospitality's sake. Mr. Jackson then
said he was afraid it was time to go; upon which, Mrs. Sanders, Mrs.
Cluppins, and Tommy (who it was arranged should accompany Mrs. Bardell:
leaving the others to Mr. Raddle's protection), got into the coach.
"Isaac," said Jackson, as Mrs. Bardell prepared to get in: looking up
at the man with the ash stick, who was seated on the box, smoking a
cigar.
"Well?"
"_This_ is Mrs. Bardell."
"Oh, I knowed that long ago," said the man.
Mrs. Bardell got in, Mr. Jackson got in after her, and away they drove.
Mrs. Bardell could not help ruminating on what Mr. Jackson's friend had
said. Shrewd creatures, those lawyers. Lord bless us, how they find
people out!
"Sad thing about these costs of our people's, ain't it," said Jackson,
when Mrs. Cluppins and Mrs. Sanders had fallen asleep; "your bill of
costs, I mean?"
"I'm very sorry they can't get them," replied Mrs. Bardell. "But if you
law-gentlemen do these things on speculation, why you must get a loss
now and then, you know."
"You gave them a _cognovit_ for the amount of your costs, after the
trial, I'm told?" said Jackson.
"Yes. Just as a matter of form," replied Mrs. Bardell.
"Certainly," replied Jackson, drily. "Quite a matter of form. Quite."
On they drove, and Mrs. Bardell fell asleep. She was awakened, after
some time, by the stopping of the coach.
"Bless us!" said the lady. "Are we at Freeman's Court?"
"We're not going quite so far," replied Jackson. "Have the goodness to
step out."
Mrs. Bardell, not yet thoroughly awake, complied. It was a curious
place: a large wall, with a gate in the middle, and a gaslight burning
inside.
"Now, ladies," cried the man with the ash stick, looking into the
coach, and shaking Mrs. Sanders to wake her, "Come!" Rousing her
friend, Mrs. Sanders alighted. Mrs. Bardell, leaning on Jackson's arm,
and leading Tommy by the hand, had already entered the porch. They
followed.
The room they turned into was even more odd-looking than the porch.
Such a number of men standing about! And they stared so!
"What place is this?" inquired Mrs. Bardell, pausing.
"Only one of our public offices," replied Jackson, hurrying her through
a door, and looking round to see that the other women were following.
"Look sharp, Isaac!"
"Safe and sound," replied the man with the ash stick. The door swung
heavily after them, and they descended a small flight of steps.
"Here we are at last. All right and tight, Mrs. Bardell!" said Jackson,
looking exultingly around.
"What do you mean?" said Mrs. Bardell, with a palpitating heart.
"Just this," replied Jackson, drawing her a little on one side; "don't
be frightened, Mrs. Bardell. There never was a more delicate man than
Dodson, ma'am, or a more humane man than Fogg. It was their duty, in
the way of business, to take you in execution for them costs; but
they were anxious to spare your feelings as much as they could. What
a comfort it must be to you, to think how it's been done! This is the
Fleet, ma'am. Wish you good night, Mrs. Bardell. Good night, Tommy!"
As Jackson hurried away, in company with the man with the ash stick,
another man with a key in his hand, who had been looking on, led the
bewildered female to a second short flight of steps leading to the
doorway. Mrs. Bardell screamed violently; Tommy roared; Mrs. Cluppins
shrunk within herself; and Mrs. Sanders made off, without more ado.
For, there stood the injured Mr. Pickwick, taking his nightly allowance
of air; and beside him leant Samuel Weller, who, seeing Mrs. Bardell,
took his hat off with mock reverence, while his master turned
indignantly on his heel.
"Don't bother the woman," said the turnkey to Weller: "she's just come
in."
"A pris'ner" said Sam, quickly replacing his hat. "Who's the
plaintives? What for? Speak up, old feller."
"Dodson and Fogg," replied the man; "execution on cognovit for costs."
"Here Job, Job!" shouted Sam, dashing into the passage. "Run to Mr.
Perker's, Job. _I_ want him directly. I see some good in this. Here's a
game. Hooray! vere's the gov'nor."
But there was no reply to these inquiries, for Job had started
furiously off, the instant he received his commission, and Mrs. Bardell
had fainted in real downright earnest.