manner, or it might have been the temptation--irresistible to a female
mind--of hearing something at present enveloped in mystery, that reduced
the more reasonable portion of the establishment (some four individuals)
to a state of comparative quiet. By them it was proposed, as a test of
Mr. Pickwick's sincerity, that he should immediately submit to personal
restraint; and that gentleman having consented to hold a conference with
Miss Tomkins, from the interior of a closet in which the day boarders
hung their bonnets and sandwich-bags, he at once stepped into it, of
his own accord, and was securely locked in. This revived the others; and
Miss Tomkins having been brought to, and brought down, the conference
began.
'What did you do in my garden, man?' said Miss Tomkins, in a faint
voice.
'I came to warn you that one of your young ladies was going to elope
to-night,' replied Mr. Pickwick, from the interior of the closet.
'Elope!' exclaimed Miss Tomkins, the three teachers, the thirty
boarders, and the five servants. 'Who with?' 'Your friend, Mr. Charles
Fitz-Marshall.'
'MY friend! I don't know any such person.'
'Well, Mr. Jingle, then.'
'I never heard the name in my life.'
'Then, I have been deceived, and deluded,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'I have
been the victim of a conspiracy--a foul and base conspiracy. Send to the
Angel, my dear ma'am, if you don't believe me. Send to the Angel for Mr.
Pickwick's manservant, I implore you, ma'am.'
'He must be respectable--he keeps a manservant,' said Miss Tomkins to
the writing and ciphering governess.
'It's my opinion, Miss Tomkins,' said the writing and ciphering
governess, 'that his manservant keeps him, I think he's a madman, Miss
Tomkins, and the other's his keeper.'
'I think you are very right, Miss Gwynn,' responded Miss Tomkins. 'Let
two of the servants repair to the Angel, and let the others remain here,
to protect us.'
So two of the servants were despatched to the Angel in search of Mr.
Samuel Weller; and the remaining three stopped behind to protect Miss
Tomkins, and the three teachers, and the thirty boarders. And Mr.
Pickwick sat down in the closet, beneath a grove of sandwich-bags,
and awaited the return of the messengers, with all the philosophy and
fortitude he could summon to his aid.
An hour and a half elapsed before they came back, and when they did
come, Mr. Pickwick recognised, in addition to the voice of Mr. Samuel
Weller, two other voices, the tones of which struck familiarly on his
ear; but whose they were, he could not for the life of him call to mind.
A very brief conversation ensued. The door was unlocked. Mr. Pickwick
stepped out of the closet, and found himself in the presence of the
whole establishment of Westgate House, Mr Samuel Weller, and--old
Wardle, and his destined son-in-law, Mr. Trundle!
'My dear friend,' said Mr. Pickwick, running forward and grasping
Wardle's hand, 'my dear friend, pray, for Heaven's sake, explain to this
lady the unfortunate and dreadful situation in which I am placed. You
must have heard it from my servant; say, at all events, my dear fellow,
that I am neither a robber nor a madman.'
'I have said so, my dear friend. I have said so already,' replied Mr.
Wardle, shaking the right hand of his friend, while Mr. Trundle shook
the left. 'And whoever says, or has said, he is,' interposed Mr. Weller,
stepping forward, 'says that which is not the truth, but so far from it,
on the contrary, quite the rewerse. And if there's any number o' men on
these here premises as has said so, I shall be wery happy to give 'em
all a wery convincing proof o' their being mistaken, in this here wery
room, if these wery respectable ladies 'll have the goodness to retire,
and order 'em up, one at a time.' Having delivered this defiance with
great volubility, Mr. Weller struck his open palm emphatically with his
clenched fist, and winked pleasantly on Miss Tomkins, the intensity of
whose horror at his supposing it within the bounds of possibility that
there could be any men on the premises of Westgate House Establishment
for Young Ladies, it is impossible to describe.
Mr. Pickwick's explanation having already been partially made, was soon
concluded. But neither in the course of his walk home with his friends,
nor afterwards when seated before a blazing fire at the supper he so
much needed, could a single observation be drawn from him. He seemed
bewildered and amazed. Once, and only once, he turned round to Mr.
Wardle, and said--
'How did you come here?'
'Trundle and I came down here, for some good shooting on the first,'
replied Wardle. 'We arrived to-night, and were astonished to hear from
your servant that you were here too. But I am glad you are,' said the
old fellow, slapping him on the back--'I am glad you are. We shall have
a jovial party on the first, and we'll give Winkle another chance--eh,
old boy?'
Mr. Pickwick made no reply, he did not even ask after his friends at
Dingley Dell, and shortly afterwards retired for the night, desiring Sam
to fetch his candle when he rung. The bell did ring in due course, and
Mr. Weller presented himself.
'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, looking out from under the bed-clothes.
'Sir,' said Mr. Weller.
Mr. Pickwick paused, and Mr. Weller snuffed the candle.
'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick again, as if with a desperate effort.
'Sir,' said Mr. Weller, once more.
'Where is that Trotter?'
'Job, sir?'
'Yes.
'Gone, sir.'
'With his master, I suppose?'
'Friend or master, or whatever he is, he's gone with him,' replied Mr.
Weller. 'There's a pair on 'em, sir.'
'Jingle suspected my design, and set that fellow on you, with this
story, I suppose?' said Mr. Pickwick, half choking.
'Just that, sir,' replied Mr. Weller.
'It was all false, of course?'
'All, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 'Reg'lar do, sir; artful dodge.'
'I don't think he'll escape us quite so easily the next time, Sam!' said
Mr. Pickwick.
'I don't think he will, Sir.'
'Whenever I meet that Jingle again, wherever it is,' said Mr. Pickwick,
raising himself in bed, and indenting his pillow with a tremendous blow,
'I'll inflict personal chastisement on him, in addition to the exposure
he so richly merits. I will, or my name is not Pickwick.'
'And venever I catches hold o' that there melan-cholly chap with the
black hair,' said Sam, 'if I don't bring some real water into his eyes,
for once in a way, my name ain't Weller. Good-night, Sir!'
CHAPTER XVII. SHOWING THAT AN ATTACK OF RHEUMATISM, IN SOME CASES, ACTS
AS A QUICKENER TO INVENTIVE GENIUS
The constitution of Mr. Pickwick, though able to sustain a very
considerable amount of exertion and fatigue, was not proof against such
a combination of attacks as he had undergone on the memorable night,
recorded in the last chapter. The process of being washed in the night
air, and rough-dried in a closet, is as dangerous as it is peculiar. Mr.
Pickwick was laid up with an attack of rheumatism.
But although the bodily powers of the great man were thus impaired,
his mental energies retained their pristine vigour. His spirits were
elastic; his good-humour was restored. Even the vexation consequent upon
his recent adventure had vanished from his mind; and he could join in
the hearty laughter, which any allusion to it excited in Mr. Wardle,
without anger and without embarrassment. Nay, more. During the two days
Mr. Pickwick was confined to bed, Sam was his constant attendant. On the
first, he endeavoured to amuse his master by anecdote and conversation;
on the second, Mr. Pickwick demanded his writing-desk, and pen and ink,
and was deeply engaged during the whole day. On the third, being able to
sit up in his bedchamber, he despatched his valet with a message to Mr.
Wardle and Mr. Trundle, intimating that if they would take their wine
there, that evening, they would greatly oblige him. The invitation was
most willingly accepted; and when they were seated over their wine, Mr.
Pickwick, with sundry blushes, produced the following little tale, as
having been 'edited' by himself, during his recent indisposition, from
his notes of Mr. Weller's unsophisticated recital.
THE PARISH CLERK
A TALE OF TRUE LOVE
'Once upon a time, in a very small country town, at a considerable
distance from London, there lived a little man named Nathaniel Pipkin,
who was the parish clerk of the little town, and lived in a little house
in the little High Street, within ten minutes' walk from the little
church; and who was to be found every day, from nine till four, teaching
a little learning to the little boys. Nathaniel Pipkin was a harmless,
inoffensive, good-natured being, with a turned-up nose, and rather
turned-in legs, a cast in his eye, and a halt in his gait; and he
divided his time between the church and his school, verily believing
that there existed not, on the face of the earth, so clever a man as the
curate, so imposing an apartment as the vestry-room, or so well-ordered
a seminary as his own. Once, and only once, in his life, Nathaniel
Pipkin had seen a bishop--a real bishop, with his arms in lawn sleeves,
and his head in a wig. He had seen him walk, and heard him talk, at
a confirmation, on which momentous occasion Nathaniel Pipkin was so
overcome with reverence and awe, when the aforesaid bishop laid his
hand on his head, that he fainted right clean away, and was borne out of
church in the arms of the beadle.
'This was a great event, a tremendous era, in Nathaniel Pipkin's life,
and it was the only one that had ever occurred to ruffle the smooth
current of his quiet existence, when happening one fine afternoon, in a
fit of mental abstraction, to raise his eyes from the slate on which
he was devising some tremendous problem in compound addition for
an offending urchin to solve, they suddenly rested on the blooming
countenance of Maria Lobbs, the only daughter of old Lobbs, the great
saddler over the way. Now, the eyes of Mr. Pipkin had rested on the
pretty face of Maria Lobbs many a time and oft before, at church and
elsewhere; but the eyes of Maria Lobbs had never looked so bright, the
cheeks of Maria Lobbs had never looked so ruddy, as upon this particular
occasion. No wonder then, that Nathaniel Pipkin was unable to take his
eyes from the countenance of Miss Lobbs; no wonder that Miss Lobbs,
finding herself stared at by a young man, withdrew her head from the
window out of which she had been peeping, and shut the casement and
pulled down the blind; no wonder that Nathaniel Pipkin, immediately
thereafter, fell upon the young urchin who had previously offended, and
cuffed and knocked him about to his heart's content. All this was very
natural, and there's nothing at all to wonder at about it.
'It IS matter of wonder, though, that anyone of Mr. Nathaniel Pipkin's
retiring disposition, nervous temperament, and most particularly
diminutive income, should from this day forth, have dared to aspire to
the hand and heart of the only daughter of the fiery old Lobbs--of old
Lobbs, the great saddler, who could have bought up the whole village
at one stroke of his pen, and never felt the outlay--old Lobbs, who was
well known to have heaps of money, invested in the bank at the nearest
market town--who was reported to have countless and inexhaustible
treasures hoarded up in the little iron safe with the big keyhole, over
the chimney-piece in the back parlour--and who, it was well known,
on festive occasions garnished his board with a real silver teapot,
cream-ewer, and sugar-basin, which he was wont, in the pride of his
heart, to boast should be his daughter's property when she found a man
to her mind. I repeat it, to be matter of profound astonishment and
intense wonder, that Nathaniel Pipkin should have had the temerity to
cast his eyes in this direction. But love is blind; and Nathaniel had
a cast in his eye; and perhaps these two circumstances, taken together,
prevented his seeing the matter in its proper light.
'Now, if old Lobbs had entertained the most remote or distant idea of
the state of the affections of Nathaniel Pipkin, he would just have
razed the school-room to the ground, or exterminated its master from the
surface of the earth, or committed some other outrage and atrocity of
an equally ferocious and violent description; for he was a terrible
old fellow, was Lobbs, when his pride was injured, or his blood was up.
Swear! Such trains of oaths would come rolling and pealing over the way,
sometimes, when he was denouncing the idleness of the bony apprentice
with the thin legs, that Nathaniel Pipkin would shake in his shoes
with horror, and the hair of the pupils' heads would stand on end with
fright.
'Well! Day after day, when school was over, and the pupils gone, did
Nathaniel Pipkin sit himself down at the front window, and, while he
feigned to be reading a book, throw sidelong glances over the way in
search of the bright eyes of Maria Lobbs; and he hadn't sat there many
days, before the bright eyes appeared at an upper window, apparently
deeply engaged in reading too. This was delightful, and gladdening to
the heart of Nathaniel Pipkin. It was something to sit there for hours
together, and look upon that pretty face when the eyes were cast down;
but when Maria Lobbs began to raise her eyes from her book, and dart
their rays in the direction of Nathaniel Pipkin, his delight and
admiration were perfectly boundless. At last, one day when he knew old
Lobbs was out, Nathaniel Pipkin had the temerity to kiss his hand
