them all to jail as desperate characters when Sam Weller called his
master aside and whispered to him that the house they were in was the
very one from which he had seen Job Trotter come, and from this fact he
guessed that Jingle himself had wormed himself into the good graces of
the mayor. At this Mr. Pickwick asked to have a private talk with
Nupkins.
This was grudgingly granted and in a few moments Mr. Pickwick had
learned that Jingle, calling himself "Captain Fitz-Marshall," had
imposed so well on the pompous mayor that the latter's wife and daughter
had introduced him everywhere and he himself had boasted to everybody of
his acquaintance.
It was Nupkins's turn to feel humble when Mr. Pickwick told him Jingle's
real character. He was terribly afraid the story would get out and that
the town would laugh at him, so he became all at once tremendously
polite, declared their arrest had been all a mistake and begged the
Pickwickians to make themselves at home. Sam Weller was sent down to the
kitchen to get his dinner, where he met a pretty housemaid named Mary,
with whom he proceeded to fall very much in love for the first time in
his life.
Jingle and Job walked into the trap a little later, not expecting the
kind of reception they were to find there. But even before the combined
scorn of Nupkins, Mrs. Nupkins, Miss Nupkins and the Pickwickians,
Jingle showed a brazen front. He knew pride would prevent the mayor from
exposing him, and when finally shown the door, he left with a mocking
jeer, followed by the chuckling Job.
In spite of his own troubles Mr. Pickwick left Ipswich comforted by the
defeat of Jingle. As for Sam, he kissed the pretty housemaid behind the
door and they parted with mutual regrets.
To atone for these difficult adventures, the Pickwickians prepared for a
long visit to Dingley Dell, where they spent an old-fashioned Merry
Christmas; where they found the fat boy even fatter and Mr. Wardle even
jollier; where Tupman was not saddened by the sight of his lost love,
the spinster aunt, who had been sent to live with another relative;
where Snodgrass came more than ever to admire Emily, the pretty
daughter; where Winkle fell head over ears in love with a black-eyed
young lady visitor named Arabella Allen, who wore a nice little pair of
boots with fur around the top; where they went skating and Mr. Pickwick
broke through, and had to be carried home and put to bed; where they
hung mistletoe and told stories, and altogether enjoyed themselves in a
hundred ways.
Ben Allen, Arabella's brother, reached Dingley Dell on Christmas Day--a
thick-set, mildewy young man, with short black hair, a long white face
and spectacles. He was a medical student, and brought with him his chum,
Bob Sawyer, a slovenly, smart, swaggering young gentleman, who smelled
strongly of tobacco smoke and looked like a dissipated Robinson Crusoe.
Ben intended that his chum should marry his sister Arabella, and Bob
Sawyer paid her so much attention that Winkle began to hate him on the
spot.
The Christmas merrymaking was all too soon over, and as Mrs. Bardell's
lawsuit against Mr. Pickwick was shortly to be tried, the Pickwickians
returned regretfully to the city.
VI
THE CELEBRATED CASE OF BARBELL AGAINST PICKWICK.
SERGEANT BUZFUZ'S SPEECH AND
AN UNEXPECTED VERDICT
On the morning of the trial Mr. Pickwick went to court certain that the
outcome would be in his favor. The room was full of people, and all the
Pickwickians were there when he arrived. The Judge was a very short man,
so plump that he seemed all face and waistcoat. When he had rolled in
upon two little turned legs, and sat down at his desk, all you could see
of him was two little eyes, one broad pink face, and about half of a
comical, big wig. Scarcely had the jurors taken their seats, when Mrs.
Bardell's lawyers brought in the lady herself, half hysterical, and
supported by two tearful lady friends. The ushers called for silence and
the trial began.
The lawyer who spoke for Mrs. Bardell was named Sergeant Buzfuz, a
blustering man with a fat body and a red face. He began by picturing Mr.
Pickwick's housekeeper as a lonely widow who had been heartlessly
deceived by the villainy of her lodger. He declared that for two years,
Mrs. Bardell had attended to Mr. Pickwick's comforts, that once he had
patted her little boy on the head and asked him how he would like to
have another father; that he had also asked her to marry him, and on the
same day had been seen by three of his friends holding her in his arms
and soothing her agitation. Drawing forth two scraps of paper, Sergeant
Buzfuz went on:
"Gentlemen, one word more. Two letters have passed between these
parties, which speak volumes. They are not open, fervent letters of
affection. They are sly, underhanded communications evidently intended
by Pickwick to mislead and delude any one into whose hands they might
fall. Let me read the first: '_Dear Mrs. B.--Chops and tomato Sauce.
Yours, Pickwick._' Gentlemen, what does this mean? Chops! Gracious
Heavens! and Tomato Sauce. Gentlemen, is the happiness of a trusting
female to be trifled away by such shallow tricks? The next has no date.
'_Dear Mrs. B.--I shall not be at home till to-morrow._' And then
follows this remarkable expression--'_Don't trouble yourself about the
warming-pan._' The warming-pan! Why is Mrs. Bardell begged not to
trouble herself about this warming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the
case) it is a mere substitute for some endearing word or promise,
cunningly used by Pickwick, with a view to his intended desertion?
"But enough of this, gentlemen. It is hard to smile with an aching
heart. My client's hopes are ruined. All is gloom in the house; the
child's sports are forgotten while his mother weeps. But Pickwick,
gentlemen, Pickwick, the pitiless destroyer--Pickwick who comes before
you to-day with his heartless tomato sauce and warming-pans--Pickwick
still rears his head, and gazes without a sigh on the ruins he has made.
Damages, gentlemen, heavy damages is the only punishment with which you
can visit him. And for these damages, my client now appeals to a
high-minded, a right-feeling, a sympathizing jury of her countrymen!"
With this Sergeant Buzfuz stopped, and began to call his witnesses. The
first was one of Mrs. Bardell's female cronies, whose testimony of
course, was all in her favor.
Then Winkle was called. Knowing that he was a friend of Mr. Pickwick's,
Mrs. Bardell's lawyers browbeat and puzzled him till poor Mr. Winkle had
the air of a disconcerted pickpocket, and was in a terrible state of
confusion. He was soon made to tell how, with Tupman and Snodgrass, he
had come into Mr. Pickwick's lodgings one day to find him holding Mrs.
Bardell in his arms. The other two Pickwickians were also compelled to
testify to this.
Nor was this all. Sergeant Buzfuz finally entrapped the agonized Winkle
into telling how Mr. Pickwick had been found at night in the wrong room
at the Ipswich Inn and how as a result a lady's marriage had been broken
off and the whole party arrested and taken before the mayor. Poor Winkle
was obliged to tell this, though he knew it would hurt the case of Mr.
Pickwick. When he was released he rushed away to the nearest inn, where
he was found some hours later by the waiter, groaning dismally with his
head under the sofa cushions.
Mr. Pickwick's case looked black. The only comfort he received was from
the testimony of Sam Weller, who tried to do Mrs. Bardell's side all
possible harm yet say as little about his master as he could, and who
kept the court room in a roar of laughter with his sallies.
"Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Weller," said Sergeant Buzfuz finally,
"that you saw nothing of Mrs. Bardell's fainting in the arms of Mr.
Pickwick? Have you a pair of eyes, Mr. Weller?"
"Yes, I _have_ a pair of eyes," replied Sam, "and that's just it. If
they was a pair o' patent-double-million-magnifyin'-gas-miscroscopes of
hextra power, p'r'aps I might be able to see through a flight o' stairs
and a deal door; but bein' only eyes, you see, my wision's limited."
Sergeant Buzfuz could make nothing out of Sam, and so the case for Mrs.
Bardell closed.
Mr. Pickwick's lawyer made a long speech in his favor, but it was of no
use. The evidence seemed all against him. The jury found him guilty of
breach of promise of marriage, and sentenced him to pay Mrs. Bardell her
damages.
Mr. Pickwick was speechless with indignation. He vowed that not one
penny would he ever pay if he spent the rest of his life in a jail. His
own lawyer warned him that if he did not pay within two months, Mrs.
Bardell's lawyers could put him into the debtors' prison, but Mr.
Pickwick prepared to start on another excursion with his three friends,
still declaring that he would never pay.
VII
WINKLE HAS AN EXCITING ADVENTURE WITH MR. DOWLER,
AND WITH THE AID OF MR. PICKWICK AND
SAM WELLER DISCOVERS THE
WHEREABOUTS OF MISS
ARABELLA ALLEN
At Bath, a resort very popular with people of fashion, the Pickwickians
decided to spend the next two months, and started by coach at once,
accompanied by Sam Weller. On the coach they fell in with a
fierce-looking, abrupt gentleman named Dowler, with a bald, glossy
forehead and large black whiskers, who introduced them to the society of
Bath, particularly to Mr. Angelo Cyrus Bantam, master of ceremonies at
the famous Assembly-Room, where the fashionable balls were held. Mr.
Bantam carried a gold eye-glass, a gold snuff-box, gold rings on his
finger, a gold watch in his waistcoat pocket, a gold chain and an ebony
cane with a gold head. His linen was the whitest, his wig the blackest,
and his teeth were so fine that it was hard to tell the real ones from
the false ones.
Mr. Bantam made the Pickwickians welcome and in three days' time they
were settled in a fine house, where Mr. and Mrs. Dowler also lodged. Mr.
Pickwick passed his days in drinking the spring-water for which Bath was
famous, and in walking; his evenings he spent at the Assembly balls, at
the theater or in making entries in his journal.
One evening Mrs. Dowler was carried off to a party in her sedan-chair,
leaving her husband to sit up for her. The Pickwickians had long since
gone to bed, and Mr. Dowler fell fast asleep while he waited. It was a
very windy night and the sedan-carriers, who brought the lady home,
knocked in vain at the door. Mr. Dowler did not wake, though they
knocked like an insane postman.
At length Winkle in his own room was roused by the racket. He donned
slippers and dressing-gown, hurried down stairs half asleep and opened
the door. At the glare of the torches he jumped to the conclusion that
the house was on fire and rushed outside, when the door blew shut behind
him.
Seeing a lady's face at the window of the sedan-chair, he turned and
knocked at the door frantically, but with no response. He was undressed
and the wind blew his dressing-gown in a most unpleasant manner. "There
are people coming down the street now. There are ladies with 'em; cover
me up with something! Stand before me!" roared Winkle, but the chairmen
only laughed. The ladies were nearer and in desperation he bolted into
the sedan-chair where Mrs. Dowler was.
Now Mr. Dowler, a moment before, had bounced off the bed, and now threw
open the window just in time to see this. He thought his wife was
running away with another man, and seizing a supper knife, the indignant
husband tore into the street, shouting furiously.
Winkle, hearing his horrible threats, did not wait. He leaped out of the
sedan-chair and took to his heels, hotly pursued by Dowler. He dodged
his pursuer at length, rushed back, slammed the door in Dowler's face,
gained his bedroom, barricaded his door with furniture and packed his
belongings. At the first streak of dawn, he slipped out and took coach
for Bristol.
Mr. Pickwick was greatly vexed over Winkle's unheroic flight. Sam Weller
soon discovered where he had gone, and Mr. Pickwick sent him after the
fugitive, bidding him find Winkle and either compel him to return or
keep him in sight until Mr. Pickwick himself could follow.
Winkle, meanwhile, walking about the Bristol streets, chanced to stop at
a doctor's office to make some inquiries, and in a young medical
gentleman in green spectacles recognized, to his huge surprise, Bob
Sawyer, the bosom friend of Ben Allen, both of whom he had met on
Christmas Day at Dingley Dell. Bob, in delight, dragged Winkle into the
back room where sat Ben Allen, amusing himself by boring holes in the
chimney piece with a red-hot poker.
The precious couple had, in fact, set up shop together, and were using
every trick they knew to make people think them great doctors with a
tremendous practice. They insisted on Winkle's staying to supper, and it
was lucky he did so, for he heard news of Arabella, the pretty girl who
had worn the little boots with fur around the top at Dingley Dell, and
with whom he had fallen in love. He learned that Arabella had scorned
the sprightly Bob Sawyer, and that her brother, in anger, had taken her
away from Mr. Wardle's and put her in the house of an old aunt--a dull,
close place not far from Bristol. Before he bade them good night, Winkle
had determined to find her.
He met with a shock, on returning to his inn, to come suddenly upon
Dowler sitting in the coffee-room. Winkle drew back, very pale, and was
greatly surprised to see the bloodthirsty Dowler do likewise as, growing
even paler than Winkle, he began an apology for his action of the
evening before. As a matter of fact, Dowler had run away from Bath,
too, at dawn, in fear of Winkle, and thought now the latter had pursued
him. Winkle, suspecting this, put on a look of great fierceness but
accepted the apology, and the pair shook hands.
Winkle's plan for finding Arabella Allen met now with a set-back. Sam
Weller arrived at midnight and insisted that Winkle be waked at once.
Once in his room, Sam told him Mr. Pickwick's instructions and declared
he would not leave his sight till Winkle came back with him to Bath.
This was awkward, but luckily, Mr. Pickwick himself, to whom Sam wrote,
arrived next day and released his follower.
Mr. Pickwick approved of Winkle's determination to find the pretty
Arabella, and so the next morning Sam Weller was sent on a voyage of
discovery among the servants of the town. For many hours Sam searched in
vain without a clue.
In the afternoon he sat in a lane running between rows of gardens in one
of the suburbs, when a gate opened and a maid-servant came out to shake
some carpets. Sam gallantly rose to help her, when she uttered a
half-suppressed scream. It was Mary, the good-looking housemaid whom Sam
had kissed at the house of Nupkins, the mayor of Ipswich, on the day of
the arrest of the Pickwickians and the exposure of Jingle. She had left
her place there for this new situation.
When Sam had finished his gallant speeches and Mary her blushing, he
told her of Winkle's search. What was his surprise when she told him
that Arabella was living the very next door. She let Sam come into the
garden, and presently when Arabella came out to walk, he scrambled on to
the wall and pleaded Winkle's cause.
"Ve thought ve should ha' been obliged to straitveskit him last
night," he declared. "He's been a-ravin' all day; and he says if
he can't see you afore to-morrow night's over, he vishes he may be
somethin'-unpleasanted if he don't drownd hisself."
Arabella, in great distress at this prospect, promised she would be in
the garden next evening, and Sam returned with the news to Mr. Pickwick
and Winkle.
The next evening all three set out for the spot. Mary let them into the
garden and, while Winkle climbed the wall to throw himself at Arabella's
feet, Mr. Pickwick kept guard at the gate with a dark lantern. So far he
threw its beam that a scientific gentleman who lived a few houses away,
seeing the light from his window, took it for some new and wonderful
freak of electricity and came out to investigate.
Before he arrived, however, Winkle had scrambled back over the wall and
Arabella had run into the house. Seeing the scientific gentleman's head
poked out of a garden-gate as they passed, Sam gave it a gentle tap
with his fist and then, hoisting Mr. Pickwick on his back, and followed
by Winkle, he ran off at full speed, leaving the scientific gentleman to
go back to his room and write a long article about the wonderful light
and to tell how he had received a shock of electricity which left him
stunned for a quarter of an hour afterward.
The Pickwickians' stay at Bath came to an end soon after this adventure,
and their leader, with Sam Weller, returned to London.
VIII
MR. PICKWICK'S EXPERIENCES IN THE DEBTORS'
PRISON, WHERE HE FINDS AN OLD ENEMY
AND HEAPS COALS OF FIRE ON THE
HEAD OF MRS. BARDELL
Mr. Pickwick had not been long in London when his lawyer's warning
proved too true. One morning a bailiff forced his way to his bedroom
and, since he had not paid the damages to Mrs. Bardell, arrested him in
bed, waited till he was dressed and carried him off to the debtors'
prison.
The prison was called The Fleet. It was a gloomy building with a heavy
gate, guarded by a turnkey, holding all classes, from laboring men to
broken-down spendthrifts. Its filthy galleries, and low coffee-room
reeked with tobacco smoke and its open court was noisy with the oaths
of card-players. In some of the rooms lived men with their wives and
whole families of children, and Mr. Pickwick found he would have to pay
extra even to have a room to himself.
Caged with this coarse, vulgar crowd, Mr. Pickwick suffered greatly, but
no idea of paying the unjust damages entered his mind. Instead, he
busied himself with wandering about the prison and learning all he could
of its customs and inmates. Those who, like himself, had money were
well-treated. Those who had none lived in starvation and wretchedness.
In one wall was a kind of iron cage, within which was posted a lean and
hungry prisoner who rattled a money-box and called out: "Remember the
poor debtors!" The money he collected from passers-by in the street was
divided and bought food for the poorest.
As Mr. Pickwick entered the room given over to the latter class, he
started. In one of its occupants, clad in tattered garments and yellow
shirt, pinched with starvation and pale with illness, he saw Alfred
Jingle; and near him, faithful still in rags and dirt, was Job Trotter.
Jingle was no longer jaunty and impudent. He had pawned all his
belongings; had lived, in fact, for the last week on a silk umbrella
with an ivory handle. His smile now was a mere twitch of the face as he
said: "Nothing soon--starve--die--workhouse funeral--serve him
right--all over--drop the curtain!" Unable, however, to keep up this
make-believe recklessness, Jingle sat down at length and sobbed like a
child.
Mr. Pickwick was greatly moved at the sight, and gave Job some money for
his master as he turned away.
Sam Weller had come with Mr. Pickwick to the prison. The latter,
however, told his servant he must now leave him, though his wages would
go on as usual. Sam pretended to agree, but lost no time in going to his
father with a plan by which he, too, should be sent to the Fleet Prison
for debt, so as to be near his master. He borrowed some money from the
old stage-driver, and then when he refused to pay it, his father had him
arrested and sent to the prison as he wished. Old Tony Weller and all
his friends went with him, and gave him three tremendous cheers at the
door. When Mr. Pickwick saw Sam return and learned what he had done, he
was much affected at the devotion of this faithful servant and felt
himself more fond of him than ever.
It was a long time before Winkle, Tupman and Snodgrass learned of their
leader's imprisonment and came to see him. Sam also had visitors in the
person of his mother-in-law (who, of course, did not know he had brought
about his own arrest) and the hypocritical, red-nosed preacher who came
with her to lecture him on his evil ways.
Old Tony Weller came, too, with a plan that he had thought of for Mr.
Pickwick's escape in a piano.
"It'll hold him easy," he whispered, "with his hat and shoes on, and
breathe through the legs, vich is holler. Have a passage ready taken for
'Mericker. The 'Merikin gov'ment will never give him up when they finds
as he's got money to spend, Sammy. Let him stop there till Mrs.
Bardell's dead, then let him come back and write a book about the
'Merikins as'll pay all his expenses and more if he blows 'em up
enough."
But Mr. Pickwick did not avail himself of this plan to escape to
America. Day by day he wandered about the prison, learning its tales of
misery and hopelessness, till his head and his heart ached and he could
bear no more. For three months he remained there, shut up all day,
stealing from his room only at night, and no entreaties would induce him
to pay the money which was keeping him a prisoner.
Mrs. Bardell's lawyers meanwhile grew impatient. They had not been paid
even the costs of the trial, and these Mrs. Bardell had agreed to pay if
they won the suit. As Mr. Pickwick had not paid the damages, however,
she had no money, and so the lawyers at last had her arrested, and she,
too, was sent to the Fleet Prison. After a few hours there, Mrs. Bardell
was willing to do anything to escape, and she agreed if Mr. Pickwick
paid the costs, to release him from the damages.
Mr. Pickwick was still so indignant that he would possibly not have
consented, but at this juncture Winkle entered, leading by the hand the
beautiful girl who had been Arabella Allen, but whom he introduced now
as Mrs. Winkle. He had run away with her from the old aunt's house, with
the help of Mary, the pretty housemaid, and they had been married
without the knowledge of Winkle's father. They had come to Mr. Pickwick
to beg him to go and plead with old Mr. Winkle for forgiveness.
Arabella's tears and Winkle's plight proved too much for Mr. Pickwick's
resolution. He paid Mrs. Bardell's costs and left Fleet Prison that very
day, with Sam Weller, whose father, of course, immediately released him
also.
IX
SNODGRASS GETS INTO DIFFICULTIES, BUT WINS HIS
LADY-LOVE. THE ADVENTURES OF THE
PICKWICKIANS COME TO AN END
Mr. Pickwick journeyed first to Bristol, to break the news of Arabella's
marriage to her brother, Ben Allen. The latter was angry at first, but
finally he and Bob Sawyer shook hands with the visitor and agreed to
treasure no ill-feeling.
Both the young gentlemen insisted on going with Mr. Pickwick to the
Winkle homestead--a circumstance which did not make that visit an easy
one. Arabella's brother went fast asleep in the parlor while they
waited, and when Bob Sawyer pinched him, as the old gentleman entered,
he awoke with a shriek without the least idea where he was.
This was most embarrassing to Mr. Pickwick, but he said all he could for
Winkle. The old gentleman, however, would send no message to his son,
and Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller returned with disappointment.
In London Sam found a letter awaiting him from his father. His
mother-in-law was dead and the public house and its earnings were now
the old stage-driver's. Sam went to see old Tony and found him
terrified. All the widows in town were setting their caps for him and he
was afraid one of them would succeed in marrying him. He had determined
to sell out the business, give the money to Mr. Pickwick to invest for
him, and keep to stage-driving so as to be safe.
While Sam sat with his father talking matters over, the red-nosed
preacher came sidling in to inquire whether Mrs. Weller's will had not
left some money for him. He felt so much at home that he went to the
cupboard and poured himself out a big tumbler of his favorite pineapple
rum. This was more than old Tony Weller could stand. He fell upon the
old hypocrite, kicked him through the door and ducked him in the horse
trough.
Mr. Pickwick, meanwhile, had been arranging to buy the release of Jingle
and Job Trotter, and to send them to the West Indies, where they might
have a chance to make an honest living. While he was attending to this
at his lawyer's, a prolonged knock came at the door. It was Joe, Mr.
Wardle's fat boy, erect, but gone fast asleep between his knocks.