CHAPTER XXIII. IN WHICH MR. SAMUEL WELLER BEGINS TO DEVOTE HIS ENERGIESTO THE RETURN MATCH BETWEEN HIMSELF AND MR. TROTTER
In a small room in the vicinity of the stableyard, betimes in themorning, which was ushered in by Mr. Pickwick's adventure with themiddle--aged lady in the yellow curl-papers, sat Mr. Weller, senior,preparing himself for his journey to London. He was sitting in anexcellent attitude for having his portrait taken; and here it is.
It is very possible that at some earlier period of his career, Mr.Weller's profile might have presented a bold and determined outline. Hisface, however, had expanded under the influence of good living, and adisposition remarkable for resignation; and its bold, fleshy curves hadso far extended beyond the limits originally assigned them, that unlessyou took a full view of his countenance in front, it was difficult todistinguish more than the extreme tip of a very rubicund nose. His chin,from the same cause, had acquired the grave and imposing form which isgenerally described by prefixing the word 'double' to that expressivefeature; and his complexion exhibited that peculiarly mottledcombination of colours which is only to be seen in gentlemen of hisprofession, and in underdone roast beef. Round his neck he wore acrimson travelling-shawl, which merged into his chin by suchimperceptible gradations, that it was difficult to distinguish the foldsof the one, from the folds of the other. Over this, he mounted a longwaistcoat of a broad pink-striped pattern, and over that again, a wide-skirted green coat, ornamented with large brass buttons, whereof the twowhich garnished the waist, were so far apart, that no man had everbeheld them both at the same time. His hair, which was short, sleek, andblack, was just visible beneath the capacious brim of a low-crownedbrown hat. His legs were encased in knee-cord breeches, and painted top-boots; and a copper watch-chain, terminating in one seal, and a key ofthe same material, dangled loosely from his capacious waistband.
We have said that Mr. Weller was engaged in preparing for his journey toLondon--he was taking sustenance, in fact. On the table before him,stood a pot of ale, a cold round of beef, and a very respectable-lookingloaf, to each of which he distributed his favours in turn, with the mostrigid impartiality. He had just cut a mighty slice from the latter, whenthe footsteps of somebody entering the room, caused him to raise hishead; and he beheld his son.
'Mornin', Sammy!' said the father.
The son walked up to the pot of ale, and nodding significantly to hisparent, took a long draught by way of reply.
'Wery good power o' suction, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller the elder, lookinginto the pot, when his first-born had set it down half empty. 'You'd ha'made an uncommon fine oyster, Sammy, if you'd been born in that stationo' life.'
'Yes, I des-say, I should ha' managed to pick up a respectable livin','replied Sam applying himself to the cold beef, with considerable vigour.
'I'm wery sorry, Sammy,' said the elder Mr. Weller, shaking up the ale,by describing small circles with the pot, preparatory to drinking. 'I'mwery sorry, Sammy, to hear from your lips, as you let yourself begammoned by that 'ere mulberry man. I always thought, up to three daysago, that the names of Veller and gammon could never come into contract,Sammy, never.'
'Always exceptin' the case of a widder, of course,' said Sam.
'Widders, Sammy,' replied Mr. Weller, slightly changing colour. 'Widdersare 'ceptions to ev'ry rule. I have heerd how many ordinary women onewidder's equal to in pint o' comin' over you. I think it's five-and-twenty, but I don't rightly know vether it ain't more.'
'Well; that's pretty well,' said Sam.
'Besides,' continued Mr. Weller, not noticing the interruption, 'that'sa wery different thing. You know what the counsel said, Sammy, asdefended the gen'l'm'n as beat his wife with the poker, venever he gotjolly. "And arter all, my Lord," says he, "it's a amiable weakness." SoI says respectin' widders, Sammy, and so you'll say, ven you gets as oldas me.'
'I ought to ha' know'd better, I know,' said Sam.
'Ought to ha' know'd better!' repeated Mr. Weller, striking the tablewith his fist. 'Ought to ha' know'd better! why, I know a young 'un ashasn't had half nor quarter your eddication--as hasn't slept about themarkets, no, not six months--who'd ha' scorned to be let in, in such avay; scorned it, Sammy.' In the excitement of feeling produced by thisagonising reflection, Mr. Weller rang the bell, and ordered anadditional pint of ale.
'Well, it's no use talking about it now,' said Sam. 'It's over, andcan't be helped, and that's one consolation, as they always says inTurkey, ven they cuts the wrong man's head off. It's my innings now,gov'nor, and as soon as I catches hold o' this 'ere Trotter, I'll have agood 'un.'
'I hope you will, Sammy. I hope you will,' returned Mr. Weller. 'Here'syour health, Sammy, and may you speedily vipe off the disgrace as you'veinflicted on the family name.' In honour of this toast Mr. Wellerimbibed at a draught, at least two-thirds of a newly-arrived pint, andhanded it over to his son, to dispose of the remainder, which heinstantaneously did.
'And now, Sammy,' said Mr. Weller, consulting a large double-facedsilver watch that hung at the end of the copper chain. 'Now it's time Iwas up at the office to get my vay-bill and see the coach loaded; forcoaches, Sammy, is like guns--they requires to be loaded with wery greatcare, afore they go off.'
At this parental and professional joke, Mr. Weller, junior, smiled afilial smile. His revered parent continued in a solemn tone--
'I'm a-goin' to leave you, Samivel, my boy, and there's no telling ven Ishall see you again. Your mother-in-law may ha' been too much for me, ora thousand things may have happened by the time you next hears any newso' the celebrated Mr. Veller o' the Bell Savage. The family name dependswery much upon you, Samivel, and I hope you'll do wot's right by it.Upon all little pints o' breedin', I know I may trust you as vell as ifit was my own self. So I've only this here one little bit of adwice togive you. If ever you gets to up'ards o' fifty, and feels disposed to goa-marryin' anybody--no matter who--jist you shut yourself up in your ownroom, if you've got one, and pison yourself off hand. Hangin's wulgar,so don't you have nothin' to say to that. Pison yourself, Samivel, myboy, pison yourself, and you'll be glad on it arterwards.' With theseaffecting words, Mr. Weller looked steadfastly on his son, and turningslowly upon his heel, disappeared from his sight.
In the contemplative mood which these words had awakened, Mr. SamuelWeller walked forth from the Great White Horse when his father had lefthim; and bending his steps towards St. Clement's Church, endeavoured todissipate his melancholy, by strolling among its ancient precincts. Hehad loitered about, for some time, when he found himself in a retiredspot--a kind of courtyard of venerable appearance--which he discoveredhad no other outlet than the turning by which he had entered. He wasabout retracing his steps, when he was suddenly transfixed to the spotby a sudden appearance; and the mode and manner of this appearance, wenow proceed to relate.
Mr. Samuel Weller had been staring up at the old brick houses now andthen, in his deep abstraction, bestowing a wink upon some healthy-looking servant girl as she drew up a blind, or threw open a bedroomwindow, when the green gate of a garden at the bottom of the yardopened, and a man having emerged therefrom, closed the green gate verycarefully after him, and walked briskly towards the very spot where Mr.Weller was standing.
Now, taking this, as an isolated fact, unaccompanied by any attendantcircumstances, there was nothing very extraordinary in it; because inmany parts of the world men do come out of gardens, close green gatesafter them, and even walk briskly away, without attracting anyparticular share of public observation. It is clear, therefore, thatthere must have been something in the man, or in his manner, or both, toattract Mr. Weller's particular notice. Whether there was, or not, wemust leave the reader to determine, when we have faithfully recorded thebehaviour of the individual in question.
When the man had shut the green gate after him, he walked, as we havesaid twice already, with a brisk pace up the courtyard; but he no soonercaught sight of Mr. Weller than he faltered, and stopped, as ifuncertain, for the moment, what course to adopt
. As the green gate wasclosed behind him, and there was no other outlet but the one in front,however, he was not long in perceiving that he must pass Mr. SamuelWeller to get away. He therefore resumed his brisk pace, and advanced,staring straight before him. The most extraordinary thing about the manwas, that he was contorting his face into the most fearful andastonishing grimaces that ever were beheld. Nature's handiwork never wasdisguised with such extraordinary artificial carving, as the man hadoverlaid his countenance with in one moment.
'Well!' said Mr. Weller to himself, as the man approached. 'This is weryodd. I could ha' swore it was him.'
Up came the man, and his face became more frightfully distorted thanever, as he drew nearer.
'I could take my oath to that 'ere black hair and mulberry suit,' saidMr. Weller; 'only I never see such a face as that afore.'
As Mr. Weller said this, the man's features assumed an unearthly twinge,perfectly hideous. He was obliged to pass very near Sam, however, andthe scrutinising glance of that gentleman enabled him to detect, underall these appalling twists of feature, something too like the small eyesof Mr. Job Trotter to be easily mistaken.
'Hollo, you Sir!' shouted Sam fiercely.
The stranger stopped.
'Hollo!' repeated Sam, still more gruffly.
The man with the horrible face looked, with the greatest surprise, upthe court, and down the court, and in at the windows of the houses--everywhere but at Sam Weller--and took another step forward, when he wasbrought to again by another shout.
'Hollo, you sir!' said Sam, for the third time.
There was no pretending to mistake where the voice came from now, so thestranger, having no other resource, at last looked Sam Weller full inthe face.
'It won't do, Job Trotter,' said Sam. 'Come! None o' that 'ere nonsense.You ain't so wery 'andsome that you can afford to throw avay many o'your good looks. Bring them 'ere eyes o' yourn back into their properplaces, or I'll knock 'em out of your head. D'ye hear?'
As Mr. Weller appeared fully disposed to act up to the spirit of thisaddress, Mr. Trotter gradually allowed his face to resume its naturalexpression; and then giving a start of joy, exclaimed, 'What do I see?Mr. Walker!'
'Ah,' replied Sam. 'You're wery glad to see me, ain't you?'
'Glad!' exclaimed Job Trotter; 'Oh, Mr. Walker, if you had but known howI have looked forward to this meeting! It is too much, Mr. Walker; Icannot bear it, indeed I cannot.' And with these words, Mr. Trotterburst into a regular inundation of tears, and, flinging his arms aroundthose of Mr. Weller, embraced him closely, in an ecstasy of joy.
'Get off!' cried Sam, indignant at this process, and vainly endeavouringto extricate himself from the grasp of his enthusiastic acquaintance.'Get off, I tell you. What are you crying over me for, you portableengine?'
'Because I am so glad to see you,' replied Job Trotter, graduallyreleasing Mr. Weller, as the first symptoms of his pugnacitydisappeared. 'Oh, Mr. Walker, this is too much.'
'Too much!' echoed Sam, 'I think it is too much--rayther! Now, what haveyou got to say to me, eh?'
Mr. Trotter made no reply; for the little pink pocket-handkerchief wasin full force.
'What have you got to say to me, afore I knock your head off?' repeatedMr. Weller, in a threatening manner.
'Eh!' said Mr. Trotter, with a look of virtuous surprise.
'What have you got to say to me?'
'I, Mr. Walker!'
'Don't call me Valker; my name's Veller; you know that vell enough. Whathave you got to say to me?'
'Bless you, Mr. Walker--Weller, I mean--a great many things, if you willcome away somewhere, where we can talk comfortably. If you knew how Ihave looked for you, Mr. Weller--'
'Wery hard, indeed, I s'pose?' said Sam drily.
'Very, very, Sir,' replied Mr. Trotter, without moving a muscle of hisface. 'But shake hands, Mr. Weller.'
Sam eyed his companion for a few seconds, and then, as if actuated by asudden impulse, complied with his request.
'How,' said Job Trotter, as they walked away, 'how is your dear, goodmaster? Oh, he is a worthy gentleman, Mr. Weller! I hope he didn't catchcold, that dreadful night, Sir.'
There was a momentary look of deep slyness in Job Trotter's eye, as hesaid this, which ran a thrill through Mr. Weller's clenched fist, as heburned with a desire to make a demonstration on his ribs. Samconstrained himself, however, and replied that his master was extremelywell.
'Oh, I am so glad,' replied Mr. Trotter; 'is he here?'
'Is yourn?' asked Sam, by way of reply.
'Oh, yes, he is here, and I grieve to say, Mr. Weller, he is going onworse than ever.'
'Ah, ah!' said Sam.
'Oh, shocking--terrible!'
'At a boarding-school?' said Sam.
'No, not at a boarding-school,' replied Job Trotter, with the same slylook which Sam had noticed before; 'not at a boarding-school.'
'At the house with the green gate?' said Sam, eyeing his companionclosely.
'No, no--oh, not there,' replied Job, with a quickness very unusual tohim, 'not there.'
'What was you a-doin' there?' asked Sam, with a sharp glance. 'Gotinside the gate by accident, perhaps?'
'Why, Mr. Weller,' replied Job, 'I don't mind telling you my littlesecrets, because, you know, we took such a fancy for each other when wefirst met. You recollect how pleasant we were that morning?'
'Oh, yes,' said Sam, impatiently. 'I remember. Well?'
'Well,' replied Job, speaking with great precision, and in the low toneof a man who communicates an important secret; 'in that house with thegreen gate, Mr. Weller, they keep a good many servants.'
'So I should think, from the look on it,' interposed Sam.
'Yes,' continued Mr. Trotter, 'and one of them is a cook, who has savedup a little money, Mr. Weller, and is desirous, if she can establishherself in life, to open a little shop in the chandlery way, you see.'
Yes.'
'Yes, Mr. Weller. Well, Sir, I met her at a chapel that I go to; a veryneat little chapel in this town, Mr. Weller, where they sing the numberfour collection of hymns, which I generally carry about with me, in alittle book, which you may perhaps have seen in my hand--and I got alittle intimate with her, Mr. Weller, and from that, an acquaintancesprung up between us, and I may venture to say, Mr. Weller, that I am tobe the chandler.'
'Ah, and a wery amiable chandler you'll make,' replied Sam, eyeing Jobwith a side look of intense dislike.
'The great advantage of this, Mr. Weller,' continued Job, his eyesfilling with tears as he spoke, 'will be, that I shall be able to leavemy present disgraceful service with that bad man, and to devote myselfto a better and more virtuous life; more like the way in which I wasbrought up, Mr. Weller.'
'You must ha' been wery nicely brought up,' said Sam.
'Oh, very, Mr. Weller, very,' replied Job. At the recollection of thepurity of his youthful days, Mr. Trotter pulled forth the pinkhandkerchief, and wept copiously.
'You must ha' been an uncommon nice boy, to go to school vith,' saidSam.
'I was, sir,' replied Job, heaving a deep sigh; 'I was the idol of theplace.'
'Ah,' said Sam, 'I don't wonder at it. What a comfort you must ha' beento your blessed mother.'
At these words, Mr. Job Trotter inserted an end of the pink handkerchiefinto the corner of each eye, one after the other, and began to weepcopiously.
'Wot's the matter with the man,' said Sam, indignantly. 'Chelsea water-works is nothin' to you. What are you melting vith now? Theconsciousness o' willainy?'
'I cannot keep my feelings down, Mr. Weller,' said Job, after a shortpause. 'To think that my master should have suspected the conversation Ihad with yours, and so dragged me away in a post-chaise, and afterpersuading the sweet young lady to say she knew nothing of him, andbribing the school-mistress to do the same, deserted her for a betterspeculation! Oh! Mr. Weller, it makes me shudder.'
'Oh, that was the vay, was it?' said Mr. Weller.
'To be sure it was,'
replied Job.
'Vell,' said Sam, as they had now arrived near the hotel, 'I vant tohave a little bit o' talk with you, Job; so if you're not particklerengaged, I should like to see you at the Great White Horse to-night,somewheres about eight o'clock.'
'I shall be sure to come,' said Job.
'Yes, you'd better,' replied Sam, with a very meaning look, 'or else Ishall perhaps be askin' arter you, at the other side of the green gate,and then I might cut you out, you know.'
'I shall be sure to be with you, sir,' said Mr. Trotter; and wringingSam's hand with the utmost fervour, he walked away.
'Take care, Job Trotter, take care,' said Sam, looking after him, 'or Ishall be one too many for you this time. I shall, indeed.' Havinguttered this soliloquy, and looked after Job till he was to be seen nomore, Mr. Weller made the best of his way to his master's bedroom.
'It's all in training, Sir,' said Sam.
'What's in training, Sam?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.
'I've found 'em out, Sir,' said Sam.
'Found out who?'
'That 'ere queer customer, and the melan-cholly chap with the blackhair.'
'Impossible, Sam!' said Mr. Pickwick, with the greatest energy. 'Whereare they, Sam: where are they?'
'Hush, hush!' replied Mr. Weller; and as he assisted Mr. Pickwick todress, he detailed the plan of action on which he proposed to enter.
'But when is this to be done, Sam?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.
'All in good time, Sir,' replied Sam.
Whether it was done in good time, or not, will be seen hereafter.