This was a common form of social meeting, and we find in the memoirs of
Adolphus and John Taylor and Frederick Reynolds descriptions of the "Keep
the Line," "The Finish," and other oddly-named societies. The cheerful
glass was the chief object. Mr. Lowten's Club, "The Magpie and Stump,"
in Clare Market, supplies a specimen of a lower class club. "Veels
vithin veels," as Sam would say.
In his speech at Dulwich, at the close of the book, Mr. Pickwick spoke
rather pathetically of the closing of his wanderings. "I shall never
forget having devoted the greater part of two years to mixing with
different varieties and shades of human character, frivolous as my
pursuit of novelty may have appeared to many." He spoke of the club
also, to which "he had communicated both personally and by letter,"
acquainting them with his intention of withdrawing from public life to
the country. He added that "during our long absence it had suffered much
from internal dissensions," and this, with other reasons, had obliged him
to dissolve it. This "absence," both as planned and carried out, was
merely occasional. Mr. Pickwick and his friends were rarely, and only
now and then, absent from town, going away for short spells, save, of
course, the enforced absence in the Fleet Prison and the months or weeks
(as it may be) in Bath. "The George and Vulture" was not far from Huggin
Lane, so Mr. Pickwick must have been constantly at the Club, or _could_
have been had he chosen to go there. All this notion of severance,
therefore, was somewhat sentimental.
But the "dissensions" the President spoke of were natural enough. He was
the founder and mainstay of the association--probably paid its expenses.
The whole object of the institution, it may be suspected, was to exalt
the founder. In such a state of things, it was natural that there should
be an opposition, or discontented party, headed by "that Blotton." When
Blotton was got rid of, his friends would think that he had been badly
treated and take advantage of the occasional absences of the chief to
foment revolt. Then Blotton was expelled, assuredly unfairly, for he
merely took the opposite view on the Cobham stone, and he might have left
some who belonged to his faction and who thought he had been harshly
dealt with. Mr. Pickwick, in fact, merely returned from his agreeable
junketting to have this gentleman expelled. Despotism of this sort
always leads to discontent and parties--hence the "dissensions." Mr.
Pickwick, from his treatment of Blotton, must have been a Tory of the old
Eldon school. Here was his blemish. He had no toleration for others,
and had an undue idea of his own position. We can trace the whole thing
perfectly. He was a successful man of business--an export merchant
apparently--being connected with an agent at Liverpool whom he had
"obliged." Round such a man who was good-natured and philanthropic would
gather flatterers and toadies; hence the suggestion to found a club with
his own name and "button." Of this he could be "Boss," and he was
listened to and courted. It was like the devotion of satellites to the
late Mr. Gladstone. We can see all this in the picture of the club at
the beginning, where, with the exception of the four legitimate
Pickwickians, all seem rather of the tradesman class, and are vulgar
types enough. In such surroundings, Mr. Pickwick could "rule the roast"
and grow despotic and even arrogant.
Blotton, however, who seems to have been an independent sort of fellow,
could not submit to this, was of the Opposition, and, no doubt, a thorn
in Mr. Pickwick's side. And here is yet another point of the likeness to
the Johnsonian coterie. In "The Club," Hawkins--Sir John of that ilk--was
uncongenial--"a detestable fellow," Bozzy calls him--objecting,
quarrelling, and, at last, on one occasion was so rude that he had to
withdraw. Now, that this offence was rankling is evident, and it
explains the fracas which took place at the opening. Blotton looked on
Mr. Pickwick's travelling as pure humbug. The idea of his contributing
anything useful or instructive in his so-called reports seemed nonsense.
Further, was it not something of a job? Pickwick was taking three of his
own special "creatures" with him--Winkle, to whom he had been appointed
governor; Snodgrass, who was his ward; and Tupman, who was his butt and
toady. They were the _gentlemen_ of the club. None of the outsiders
were chosen. From Blotton's behaviour, too, on the Cobham business, it
is clear he thought Mr. Pickwick's scientific researches were also
"humbug." A paper by that gentleman had just been read--"The tracing of
the source of the ponds at Hampstead" and "Some observations on the
theory of tittlebats." There was somewhat too much of this "bossing."
The whole report read by the secretary was full of gross flatteries. They
had "just heard read with feelings of unmingled satisfaction and
unqualified approval," &c., "from which advantages must accrue to the
cause of science"--cause of rubbish! Then, it added, obsequiously,
something about "the _inestimable_ benefits from carrying the
speculations of that _learned_ man" &c. Mr. Pickwick, in his speech, was
certainly self-laudatory and provocative. He talked of his pride in
promoting the Tittlebatian theory, and "let _his enemies make the most of
it_." This was marked enough, and no doubt caused looks at Blotton. Then
he began to puff his new enterprise at "a service of some danger."
There were, were there not, upsets of coaches "in all directions," horses
bolting--boats overturning, and boilers bursting? Now, Blotton--after
all the humbug that had gone before, and particularly after a provocative
reference to himself--could not stand this, and, amid the obsequious
cries and "cheers," said, boldly, "No!" (A Voice: "No!") That is,
signifying there were no such dangers. The fury of the orator on "the
Windsor chair," was quite Gladstonian. "No!" he cried; on which the
cheers of his followers broke out. "Who was it that cried No?" Then he
proceeded to imagine it came from some "vain and disappointed man--he
wouldn't say haberdasher."
To the Pickwick Club there was a Vice-President, named Smiggers--Joseph
Smiggers, Esq., P.V.P.M.P.C., that is, Perpetual Vice-President and
Member of the Pickwick Club. Smiggers was, of course, supposed to be
"Pickwick's creature," or he would not have been there. He was a tall,
corpulent man, with a soft face--as we see him in his picture. As Mr.
Pickwick speaks, it is remarkable that both Vice-President and
Secretary--the two officers--have each one arm raised as if in ecstatic
rapture--clear proof of their subservience to Pickwick. On Smiggers'
right is a "doddering" old fellow of between seventy and eighty--clearly
a "nullity"--on his left, another member nearly as old, but with a
glimmer of intelligence. Down the side of the table, facing the orator,
are some odd faces--one clearly a Jew; one for whom the present Mr.
Edward Terry might have sat. Blotton is at the bottom, half turned away
in disgust. His neighbour looks at him with wonder, as who should say,
"How can you be so insensible?" Odd to say--and significant, too--Blotton
has brought into the club his _dog_, a ferocious looking "bull," which
sits at his feet under the table. We should say, on the whole, that
Blotton could only count on--and that, with but a limited sympathy--the
Terry-faced and Jew-faced men--if he _could_ count on them. The
Secretary was like a clerk--a perky fellow--and had a pen behind his ear;
probably in some Bank or Counting House, so strong is habit. One member
of the Club alone is invisible--the one beyond Tupman--all that is seen
of him is a hand holding a tumbler as if about to drink. The Dodderer is
applauding; so are the Jew, Blotton and Tupman; so is the round-faced
man, just beyond the invisible one.
Mr. Pickwick and his three friends being removed or absent, and Blotton
expelled, out of the fourteen members there were left but nine, whereof
we reckon four or five as Pickwickians and the rest as _Blottonites_.
And how easily can we imagine the acrimonious discussions that went on!
"This 'ere Pickwick, who was always making the club a hend to his own
glorification, had gone off on his touring to get more grist for his
mill." It was really, a "mutual admiration society," and as for the
reports, notes, &c., he was sending back "they 'ad 'ad enough of it." The
club didn't meet to be listening to long-winded yarns to be read out by
their worthy secretary, but for a glass and social intercourse. As for
the "travels and preambulations," what were they more than visits to
genteel 'ouses where Pickwick was "showing oft" at their expense? Then
where were the "Sportin' transactions?" The whole thing was "rot." Then
the Cobham stone business, at which the whole town was laughing, and
which their worthy friend Blotton had exposed. Blotton was the only long-
headed, creditable man they had. _He_ ought to have been their
president. But he had been turned out by the "_lick-spittles_" of the
society.