that he rather suspected somebody wanted to take advantage of him, but
it wouldn't do.
'Waiter,' said the gentleman with the whiskers.
'Sir?' replied a man with a dirty complexion, and a towel of the same,
emerging from the kennel before mentioned.
'Some more toast.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Buttered toast, mind,' said the gentleman fiercely.
'Directly, sir,' replied the waiter.
The gentleman with the whiskers hummed a tune in the same manner as
before, and pending the arrival of the toast, advanced to the front of
the fire, and, taking his coat tails under his arms, looked at his boots
and ruminated.
'I wonder whereabouts in Bath this coach puts up,' said Mr. Pickwick,
mildly addressing Mr. Winkle.
'Hum--eh--what's that?' said the strange man.
'I made an observation to my friend, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick, always
ready to enter into conversation. 'I wondered at what house the Bath
coach put up. Perhaps you can inform me.' 'Are you going to Bath?' said
the strange man.
'I am, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick.
'And those other gentlemen?'
'They are going also,' said Mr. Pickwick.
'Not inside--I'll be damned if you're going inside,' said the strange
man.
'Not all of us,' said Mr. Pickwick.
'No, not all of you,' said the strange man emphatically. 'I've taken two
places. If they try to squeeze six people into an infernal box that only
holds four, I'll take a post-chaise and bring an action. I've paid
my fare. It won't do; I told the clerk when I took my places that it
wouldn't do. I know these things have been done. I know they are done
every day; but I never was done, and I never will be. Those who know me
best, best know it; crush me!' Here the fierce gentleman rang the bell
with great violence, and told the waiter he'd better bring the toast in
five seconds, or he'd know the reason why.
'My good sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'you will allow me to observe that
this is a very unnecessary display of excitement. I have only taken
places inside for two.'
'I am glad to hear it,' said the fierce man. 'I withdraw my expressions.
I tender an apology. There's my card. Give me your acquaintance.'
'With great pleasure, Sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick. 'We are to be
fellow-travellers, and I hope we shall find each other's society
mutually agreeable.'
'I hope we shall,' said the fierce gentleman. 'I know we shall. I like
your looks; they please me. Gentlemen, your hands and names. Know me.'
Of course, an interchange of friendly salutations followed this gracious
speech; and the fierce gentleman immediately proceeded to inform the
friends, in the same short, abrupt, jerking sentences, that his name was
Dowler; that he was going to Bath on pleasure; that he was formerly in
the army; that he had now set up in business as a gentleman; that he
lived upon the profits; and that the individual for whom the second
place was taken, was a personage no less illustrious than Mrs. Dowler,
his lady wife.
'She's a fine woman,' said Mr. Dowler. 'I am proud of her. I have
reason.'
'I hope I shall have the pleasure of judging,' said Mr. Pickwick, with
a smile. 'You shall,' replied Dowler. 'She shall know you. She shall
esteem you. I courted her under singular circumstances. I won her
through a rash vow. Thus. I saw her; I loved her; I proposed; she
refused me.--"You love another?"--"Spare my blushes."--"I know
him."--"You do."--"Very good; if he remains here, I'll skin him."'
'Lord bless me!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick involuntarily.
'Did you skin the gentleman, Sir?' inquired Mr. Winkle, with a very pale
face.
'I wrote him a note, I said it was a painful thing. And so it was.'
'Certainly,' interposed Mr. Winkle.
'I said I had pledged my word as a gentleman to skin him. My character
was at stake. I had no alternative. As an officer in His Majesty's
service, I was bound to skin him. I regretted the necessity, but it must
be done. He was open to conviction. He saw that the rules of the service
were imperative. He fled. I married her. Here's the coach. That's her
head.'
As Mr. Dowler concluded, he pointed to a stage which had just driven
up, from the open window of which a rather pretty face in a bright blue
bonnet was looking among the crowd on the pavement, most probably for
the rash man himself. Mr. Dowler paid his bill, and hurried out with
his travelling cap, coat, and cloak; and Mr. Pickwick and his friends
followed to secure their places. Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass had seated
themselves at the back part of the coach; Mr. Winkle had got inside; and
Mr. Pickwick was preparing to follow him, when Sam Weller came up to his
master, and whispering in his ear, begged to speak to him, with an air
of the deepest mystery.
'Well, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'what's the matter now?'
'Here's rayther a rum go, sir,' replied Sam.
'What?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.
'This here, Sir,' rejoined Sam. 'I'm wery much afeerd, sir, that the
properiator o' this here coach is a playin' some imperence vith us.'
'How is that, Sam?' said Mr. Pickwick; 'aren't the names down on the
way-bill?'
'The names is not only down on the vay-bill, Sir,' replied Sam, 'but
they've painted vun on 'em up, on the door o' the coach.' As Sam spoke,
he pointed to that part of the coach door on which the proprietor's name
usually appears; and there, sure enough, in gilt letters of a goodly
size, was the magic name of PICKWICK!
'Dear me,' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick, quite staggered by the coincidence;
'what a very extraordinary thing!'
'Yes, but that ain't all,' said Sam, again directing his master's
attention to the coach door; 'not content vith writin' up "Pick-wick,"
they puts "Moses" afore it, vich I call addin' insult to injury, as the
parrot said ven they not only took him from his native land, but made
him talk the English langwidge arterwards.'
'It's odd enough, certainly, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'but if we stand
talking here, we shall lose our places.'
'Wot, ain't nothin' to be done in consequence, sir?' exclaimed Sam,
perfectly aghast at the coolness with which Mr. Pickwick prepared to
ensconce himself inside.
'Done!' said Mr. Pickwick. 'What should be done?' 'Ain't nobody to be
whopped for takin' this here liberty, sir?' said Mr. Weller, who had
expected that at least he would have been commissioned to challenge the
guard and the coachman to a pugilistic encounter on the spot.
'Certainly not,' replied Mr. Pickwick eagerly; 'not on any account. Jump
up to your seat directly.'
'I am wery much afeered,' muttered Sam to himself, as he turned away,
'that somethin' queer's come over the governor, or he'd never ha' stood
this so quiet. I hope that 'ere trial hasn't broke his spirit, but
it looks bad, wery bad.' Mr. Weller shook his head gravely; and it is
worthy of remark, as an illustration of the manner in which he took
this circumstance to heart, that he did not speak another word until the
coach reached the Kensington turnpike. Which was so long a time for
him to remain taciturn, that the fact may be considered wholly
unprecedented.
Nothing worthy of special mention occurred during the journey. Mr.
Dowler related a variety of anecdotes, all illustrative of his own
personal prowess and desperation, and appealed to Mrs. Dowler in
corroboration thereof; when Mrs. Dowler invariably brought in, in the
form of an appendix, some remarkable fact or circumstance which Mr.
Dowler had forgotten, or had perhaps through modesty, omitted; for the
addenda in every instance went to show that Mr. Dowler was even a more
wonderful fellow than he made himself out to be. Mr. Pickwick and Mr.
Winkle listened with great admiration, and at intervals conversed with
Mrs. Dowler, who was a very agreeable and fascinating person. So,
what between Mr. Dowler's stories, and Mrs. Dowler's charms, and Mr.
Pickwick's good-humour, and Mr. Winkle's good listening, the insides
contrived to be very companionable all the way. The outsides did
as outsides always do. They were very cheerful and talkative at the
beginning of every stage, and very dismal and sleepy in the middle,
and very bright and wakeful again towards the end. There was one young
gentleman in an India-rubber cloak, who smoked cigars all day; and there
was another young gentleman in a parody upon a greatcoat, who lighted a
good many, and feeling obviously unsettled after the second whiff, threw
them away when he thought nobody was looking at him. There was a third
young man on the box who wished to be learned in cattle; and an old one
behind, who was familiar with farming. There was a constant succession
of Christian names in smock-frocks and white coats, who were invited to
have a 'lift' by the guard, and who knew every horse and hostler on the
road and off it; and there was a dinner which would have been cheap at
half-a-crown a mouth, if any moderate number of mouths could have eaten
it in the time. And at seven o'clock P.m. Mr. Pickwick and his friends,
and Mr. Dowler and his wife, respectively retired to their private
sitting-rooms at the White Hart Hotel, opposite the Great Pump Room,
Bath, where the waiters, from their costume, might be mistaken for
Westminster boys, only they destroy the illusion by behaving themselves
much better. Breakfast had scarcely been cleared away on the succeeding
morning, when a waiter brought in Mr. Dowler's card, with a request to
be allowed permission to introduce a friend. Mr. Dowler at once followed
up the delivery of the card, by bringing himself and the friend also.
The friend was a charming young man of not much more than fifty, dressed
in a very bright blue coat with resplendent buttons, black trousers, and
the thinnest possible pair of highly-polished boots. A gold eye-glass
was suspended from his neck by a short, broad, black ribbon; a gold
snuff-box was lightly clasped in his left hand; gold rings innumerable
glittered on his fingers; and a large diamond pin set in gold glistened
in his shirt frill. He had a gold watch, and a gold curb chain with
large gold seals; and he carried a pliant ebony cane with a gold top.
His linen was of the very whitest, finest, and stiffest; his wig of the
glossiest, blackest, and curliest. His snuff was princes' mixture; his
scent BOUQUET DU ROI. His features were contracted into a perpetual
smile; and his teeth were in such perfect order that it was difficult at
a small distance to tell the real from the false.
'Mr. Pickwick,' said Mr. Dowler; 'my friend, Angelo Cyrus Bantam,
Esquire, M.C.; Bantam; Mr. Pickwick. Know each other.'
'Welcome to Ba-ath, Sir. This is indeed an acquisition. Most welcome to
Ba-ath, sir. It is long--very long, Mr. Pickwick, since you drank the
waters. It appears an age, Mr. Pickwick. Re-markable!'
Such were the expressions with which Angelo Cyrus Bantam, Esquire, M.C.,
took Mr. Pickwick's hand; retaining it in his, meantime, and shrugging
up his shoulders with a constant succession of bows, as if he really
could not make up his mind to the trial of letting it go again.
'It is a very long time since I drank the waters, certainly,' replied
Mr. Pickwick; 'for, to the best of my knowledge, I was never here
before.'
'Never in Ba-ath, Mr. Pickwick!' exclaimed the Grand Master, letting the
hand fall in astonishment. 'Never in Ba-ath! He! he! Mr. Pickwick, you
are a wag. Not bad, not bad. Good, good. He! he! he! Re-markable!'
'To my shame, I must say that I am perfectly serious,' rejoined Mr.
Pickwick. 'I really never was here before.'
'Oh, I see,' exclaimed the Grand Master, looking extremely pleased;
'yes, yes--good, good--better and better. You are the gentleman of whom
we have heard. Yes; we know you, Mr. Pickwick; we know you.'
'The reports of the trial in those confounded papers,' thought Mr.
Pickwick. 'They have heard all about me.' 'You are the gentleman
residing on Clapham Green,' resumed Bantam, 'who lost the use of his
limbs from imprudently taking cold after port wine; who could not be
moved in consequence of acute suffering, and who had the water from the
king's bath bottled at one hundred and three degrees, and sent by wagon
to his bedroom in town, where he bathed, sneezed, and the same day
recovered. Very remarkable!'
Mr. Pickwick acknowledged the compliment which the supposition implied,
but had the self-denial to repudiate it, notwithstanding; and taking
advantage of a moment's silence on the part of the M.C., begged to
introduce his friends, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass. An
introduction which overwhelmed the M.C. with delight and honour.
'Bantam,' said Mr. Dowler, 'Mr. Pickwick and his friends are strangers.
They must put their names down. Where's the book?'
'The register of the distinguished visitors in Ba-ath will be at the
Pump Room this morning at two o'clock,' replied the M.C. 'Will you guide
our friends to that splendid building, and enable me to procure their
autographs?'
'I will,' rejoined Dowler. 'This is a long call. It's time to go. I
shall be here again in an hour. Come.'
'This is a ball-night,' said the M.C., again taking Mr. Pickwick's hand,
