CHAPTER XXXV. IN WHICH MR. PICKWICK THINKS HE HAD BETTER GO TO BATH; ANDGOES ACCORDINGLY
But surely, my dear sir,' said little Perker, as he stood in Mr.Pickwick's apartment on the morning after the trial, 'surely you don'treally mean--really and seriously now, and irritation apart--that youwon't pay these costs and damages?'
'Not one halfpenny,' said Mr. Pickwick firmly; 'not one halfpenny.'
'Hooroar for the principle, as the money-lender said ven he vouldn'trenew the bill,' observed Mr. Weller, who was clearing away thebreakfast-things.
'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'have the goodness to step downstairs.'
'Cert'nly, sir,' replied Mr. Weller; and acting on Mr. Pickwick's gentlehint, Sam retired.
'No, Perker,' said Mr. Pickwick, with great seriousness of manner, 'myfriends here have endeavoured to dissuade me from this determination,but without avail. I shall employ myself as usual, until the oppositeparty have the power of issuing a legal process of execution against me;and if they are vile enough to avail themselves of it, and to arrest myperson, I shall yield myself up with perfect cheerfulness and content ofheart. When can they do this?'
'They can issue execution, my dear Sir, for the amount of the damagesand taxed costs, next term,' replied Perker, 'just two months hence, mydear sir.'
'Very good,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'Until that time, my dear fellow, let mehear no more of the matter. And now,' continued Mr. Pickwick, lookinground on his friends with a good-humoured smile, and a sparkle in theeye which no spectacles could dim or conceal, 'the only question is,Where shall we go next?'
Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass were too much affected by their friend'sheroism to offer any reply. Mr. Winkle had not yet sufficientlyrecovered the recollection of his evidence at the trial, to make anyobservation on any subject, so Mr. Pickwick paused in vain.
'Well,' said that gentleman, 'if you leave me to suggest ourdestination, I say Bath. I think none of us have ever been there.'
Nobody had; and as the proposition was warmly seconded by Perker, whoconsidered it extremely probable that if Mr. Pickwick saw a littlechange and gaiety he would be inclined to think better of hisdetermination, and worse of a debtor's prison, it was carriedunanimously; and Sam was at once despatched to the White Horse Cellar,to take five places by the half-past seven o'clock coach, next morning.
There were just two places to be had inside, and just three to be hadout; so Sam Weller booked for them all, and having exchanged a fewcompliments with the booking-office clerk on the subject of a pewterhalf-crown which was tendered him as a portion of his 'change,' walkedback to the George and Vulture, where he was pretty busily employeduntil bed-time in reducing clothes and linen into the smallest possiblecompass, and exerting his mechanical genius in constructing a variety ofingenious devices for keeping the lids on boxes which had neither locksnor hinges.
The next was a very unpropitious morning for a journey--muggy, damp, anddrizzly. The horses in the stages that were going out, and had comethrough the city, were smoking so, that the outside passengers wereinvisible. The newspaper-sellers looked moist, and smelled mouldy; thewet ran off the hats of the orange-vendors as they thrust their headsinto the coach windows, and diluted the insides in a refreshing manner.The Jews with the fifty-bladed penknives shut them up in despair; themen with the pocket-books made pocket-books of them. Watch-guards andtoasting-forks were alike at a discount, and pencil-cases and spongeswere a drug in the market.
Leaving Sam Weller to rescue the luggage from the seven or eight porterswho flung themselves savagely upon it, the moment the coach stopped, andfinding that they were about twenty minutes too early, Mr. Pickwick andhis friends went for shelter into the travellers' room--the lastresource of human dejection.
The travellers' room at the White Horse Cellar is of courseuncomfortable; it would be no travellers' room if it were not. It is theright-hand parlour, into which an aspiring kitchen fireplace appears tohave walked, accompanied by a rebellious poker, tongs, and shovel. It isdivided into boxes, for the solitary confinement of travellers, and isfurnished with a clock, a looking-glass, and a live waiter, which latterarticle is kept in a small kennel for washing glasses, in a corner ofthe apartment.
One of these boxes was occupied, on this particular occasion, by astern-eyed man of about five-and-forty, who had a bald and glossyforehead, with a good deal of black hair at the sides and back of hishead, and large black whiskers. He was buttoned up to the chin in abrown coat; and had a large sealskin travelling-cap, and a greatcoat andcloak, lying on the seat beside him. He looked up from his breakfast asMr. Pickwick entered, with a fierce and peremptory air, which was verydignified; and, having scrutinised that gentleman and his companions tohis entire satisfaction, hummed a tune, in a manner which seemed to saythat he rather suspected somebody wanted to take advantage of him, butit 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 asbefore, and pending the arrival of the toast, advanced to the front ofthe fire, and, taking his coat tails under his arms, looked at his bootsand 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, alwaysready to enter into conversation. 'I wondered at what house the Bathcoach 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 strangeman.
'Not all of us,' said Mr. Pickwick.
'No, not all of you,' said the strange man emphatically. 'I've taken twoplaces. If they try to squeeze six people into an infernal box that onlyholds four, I'll take a post-chaise and bring an action. I've paid myfare. It won't do; I told the clerk when I took my places that itwouldn't do. I know these things have been done. I know they are doneevery day; but I never was done, and I never will be. Those who know mebest, best know it; crush me!' Here the fierce gentleman rang the bellwith great violence, and told the waiter he'd better bring the toast infive seconds, or he'd know the reason why.
'My good sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'you will allow me to observe thatthis is a very unnecessary display of excitement. I have only takenplaces 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 mutuallyagreeable.'
'I hope we shall,' said the fierce gentleman. 'I know we shall. I likeyour looks; they please me. Gentlemen, your hands and names. Know me.'
Of course, an interchange of friendly salutations followed this graciousspeech; and the fierce gentleman immediately proceeded to inform thefriends, in the same short, abrupt, jerking sentences, that his name wasDowler; that he was going to Bath on pleasure; that he was formerly inthe army; that he had now set up in business as a gentleman; that helived upon the profits; and that the individual for whom the secondplace 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 havereason.'
'I hope I shall have the pleasure of judging,' said Mr. Pickwick, with asmile.
'You shall,' replied Dowler. 'She shall know you. She shall esteem you.I courted her under singular circumstances. I won her through a
rashvow. Thus. I saw her; I loved her; I proposed; she refused me.--"Youlove another?"--"Spare my blushes."--"I know him."--"You do."--"Verygood; 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 paleface.
'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 characterwas at stake. I had no alternative. As an officer in His Majesty'sservice, I was bound to skin him. I regretted the necessity, but it mustbe done. He was open to conviction. He saw that the rules of the servicewere imperative. He fled. I married her. Here's the coach. That's herhead.'
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 bluebonnet was looking among the crowd on the pavement, most probably forthe rash man himself. Mr. Dowler paid his bill, and hurried out with histravelling cap, coat, and cloak; and Mr. Pickwick and his friendsfollowed to secure their places.
Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass had seated themselves at the back part ofthe coach; Mr. Winkle had got inside; and Mr. Pickwick was preparing tofollow him, when Sam Weller came up to his master, and whispering in hisear, 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 theproperiator o' this here coach is a playin' some imperence vith us.'
'How is that, Sam?' said Mr. Pickwick; 'aren't the names down on theway-bill?'
'The names is not only down on the vay-bill, Sir,' replied Sam, 'butthey'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 nameusually appears; and there, sure enough, in gilt letters of a goodlysize, 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'sattention to the coach door; 'not content vith writin' up "Pick-wick,"they puts "Moses" afore it, vich I call addin' insult to injury, as theparrot said ven they not only took him from his native land, but madehim talk the English langwidge arterwards.'
'It's odd enough, certainly, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'but if we standtalking 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 toensconce 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 commissionedto challenge the guard and the coachman to a pugilistic encounter on thespot.
'Certainly not,' replied Mr. Pickwick eagerly; 'not on any account. Jumpup 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' stoodthis so quiet. I hope that 'ere trial hasn't broke his spirit, but itlooks bad, wery bad.' Mr. Weller shook his head gravely; and it isworthy of remark, as an illustration of the manner in which he took thiscircumstance to heart, that he did not speak another word until thecoach reached the Kensington turnpike. Which was so long a time for himto remain taciturn, that the fact may be considered whollyunprecedented.
Nothing worthy of special mention occurred during the journey. Mr.Dowler related a variety of anecdotes, all illustrative of his ownpersonal prowess and desperation, and appealed to Mrs. Dowler incorroboration thereof; when Mrs. Dowler invariably brought in, in theform of an appendix, some remarkable fact or circumstance which Mr.Dowler had forgotten, or had perhaps through modesty, omitted; for theaddenda in every instance went to show that Mr. Dowler was even a morewonderful fellow than he made himself out to be. Mr. Pickwick and Mr.Winkle listened with great admiration, and at intervals conversed withMrs. Dowler, who was a very agreeable and fascinating person. So, whatbetween Mr. Dowler's stories, and Mrs. Dowler's charms, and Mr.Pickwick's good-humour, and Mr. Winkle's good listening, the insidescontrived to be very companionable all the way.
The outsides did as outsides always do. They were very cheerful andtalkative at the beginning of every stage, and very dismal and sleepy inthe middle, and very bright and wakeful again towards the end. There wasone young gentleman in an India-rubber cloak, who smoked cigars all day;and there was another young gentleman in a parody upon a greatcoat, wholighted a good many, and feeling obviously unsettled after the secondwhiff, threw them away when he thought nobody was looking at him. Therewas a third young man on the box who wished to be learned in cattle; andan old one behind, who was familiar with farming. There was a constantsuccession of Christian names in smock-frocks and white coats, who wereinvited to have a 'lift' by the guard, and who knew every horse andhostler on the road and off it; and there was a dinner which would havebeen cheap at half-a-crown a mouth, if any moderate number of mouthscould have eaten it in the time. And at seven o'clock P.M. Mr. Pickwickand his friends, and Mr. Dowler and his wife, respectively retired totheir private sitting-rooms at the White Hart Hotel, opposite the GreatPump Room, Bath, where the waiters, from their costume, might bemistaken for Westminster boys, only they destroy the illusion bybehaving themselves much better.
Breakfast had scarcely been cleared away on the succeeding morning, whena waiter brought in Mr. Dowler's card, with a request to be allowedpermission to introduce a friend. Mr. Dowler at once followed up thedelivery of the card, by bringing himself and the friend also.
The friend was a charming young man of not much more than fifty, dressedin a very bright blue coat with resplendent buttons, black trousers, andthe thinnest possible pair of highly-polished boots. A gold eye-glasswas suspended from his neck by a short, broad, black ribbon; a goldsnuff-box was lightly clasped in his left hand; gold rings innumerableglittered on his fingers; and a large diamond pin set in gold glistenedin his shirt frill. He had a gold watch, and a gold curb chain withlarge 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 theglossiest, blackest, and curliest. His snuff was princes' mixture; hisscent _bouquet du roi_. His features were contracted into a perpetualsmile; and his teeth were in such perfect order that it was difficult ata 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 toBa--ath, sir. It is long--very long, Mr. Pickwick, since you drank thewaters. 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 shruggingup his shoulders with a constant succession of bows, as if he reallycould 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,' repliedMr. Pickwick; 'for, to the best of my knowledge, I was never herebefore.'
'Never in Ba--ath, Mr. Pickwick!' exclaimed the Grand Master, lettingthe 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 whomwe 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, 'wholost the use of his limbs from imprudently taking cold after port wine;who could not be moved in consequence of acute suffering, and who hadthe 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, andthe same day recovered. Very remarkable!'
Mr. Pickwick acknowledged the compliment which the supposition implied,but had the self-denial to repudiate it, notwithstanding; and takingadvantage of a moment's silence on the part of the M.C., begged tointroduce his friends, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass. Anintroduction 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 thePump Room this morning at two o'clock,' replied the M.C. 'Will you guideour friends to that splendid building, and enable me to procure theirautographs?'
'I will,' rejoined Dowler. 'This is a long call. It's time to go. Ishall be here again in an hour. Come.'
'This is a ball-night,' said the M.C., again taking Mr. Pickwick's hand,as he rose to go. 'The ball-nights in Ba--ath are moments snatched fromparadise; rendered bewitching by music, beauty, elegance, fashion,etiquette, and--and--above all, by the absence of tradespeople, who arequite inconsistent with paradise, and who have an amalgamation ofthemselves at the Guildhall every fortnight, which is, to say the least,remarkable. Good-bye, good-bye!' and protesting all the way downstairsthat he was most satisfied, and most delighted, and most overpowered,and most flattered, Angelo Cyrus Bantam, Esquire, M.C., stepped into avery elegant chariot that waited at the door, and rattled off.
At the appointed hour, Mr. Pickwick and his friends, escorted by Dowler,repaired to the Assembly Rooms, and wrote their names down in the book--an instance of condescension at which Angelo Bantam was even moreoverpowered than before. Tickets of admission to that evening's assemblywere to have been prepared for the whole party, but as they were notready, Mr. Pickwick undertook, despite all the protestations to thecontrary of Angelo Bantam, to send Sam for them at four o'clock in theafternoon, to the M.C.'s house in Queen Square. Having taken a shortwalk through the city, and arrived at the unanimous conclusion that ParkStreet was very much like the perpendicular streets a man sees in adream, which he cannot get up for the life of him, they returned to theWhite Hart, and despatched Sam on the errand to which his master hadpledged him.
Sam Weller put on his hat in a very easy and graceful manner, and,thrusting his hands in his waistcoat pockets, walked with greatdeliberation to Queen Square, whistling as he went along, several of themost popular airs of the day, as arranged with entirely new movementsfor that noble instrument the organ, either mouth or barrel. Arriving atthe number in Queen Square to which he had been directed, he left offwhistling and gave a cheerful knock, which was instantaneously answeredby a powdered-headed footman in gorgeous livery, and of symmetricalstature.
'Is this here Mr. Bantam's, old feller?' inquired Sam Weller, nothingabashed by the blaze of splendour which burst upon his sight in theperson of the powdered-headed footman with the gorgeous livery.
'Why, young man?' was the haughty inquiry of the powdered-headedfootman.
''Cos if it is, jist you step in to him with that 'ere card, and say Mr.Veller's a-waitin', will you?' said Sam. And saying it, he very coollywalked into the hall, and sat down.
The powdered-headed footman slammed the door very hard, and scowled verygrandly; but both the slam and the scowl were lost upon Sam, who wasregarding a mahogany umbrella-stand with every outward token of criticalapproval.
Apparently his master's reception of the card had impressed thepowdered-headed footman in Sam's favour, for when he came back fromdelivering it, he smiled in a friendly manner, and said that the answerwould be ready directly.
'Wery good,' said Sam. 'Tell the old gen'l'm'n not to put himself in aperspiration. No hurry, six-foot. I've had my dinner.'
'You dine early, sir,' said the powdered-headed footman.
'I find I gets on better at supper when I does,' replied Sam.
'Have you been long in Bath, sir?' inquired the powdered-headed footman.'I have not had the pleasure of hearing of you before.'
'I haven't created any wery surprisin' sensation here, as yet,' rejoinedSam, 'for me and the other fash'nables only come last night.'
'Nice place, Sir,' said the powdered-headed footman.
'Seems so,' observed Sam.
'Pleasant society, sir,' remarked the powdered-headed footman. 'Veryagreeable servants, sir.'
'I should think they wos,' replied Sam. 'Affable, unaffected, say-nothin'-to-nobody sorts o' fellers.'
'Oh, very much so, indeed, sir,' said the powdered-headed footman,taking Sam's remarks as a high compliment. 'Very much so indeed. Do youdo anything in this way, Sir?' inquired the tall footman, producing asmall snuff-box with a fox's head on the top of it.
'Not without sneezing,' replied Sam.
'Why, it _is_ difficult, sir, I confess,' said the tall footman. 'It maybe done by degrees, Sir. Coffee is the best practice. I carried coffee,Sir, for a long time. It looks very like rappee, sir.'
Here, a sharp peal at the bell reduced the powdered-headed footman tothe ignominious necessity of putting the fox's head in his pocket, andhastening with a humble countenance to Mr. Bantam's 'study.' By the bye,who ever knew a man who never read or wrote either, who hadn't got somesmall back parlour which he _would _call a study!
'There is the answer, sir,' said the powdered-headed footman. 'I'mafraid you'll find it inconveniently large.'
'Don't mention it,' said Sam, taking a letter with a small enclosure.'It's just possible as exhausted natur' may manage to surwive it.'
'I hope we shall meet again, Sir,' said the powdered-headed footman,rubbing his hands, and following Sam out to the door-step.
'You are wery obligin', sir,' replied Sam. 'Now, don't allow yourself tobe fatigued beyond your powers; there's a amiable bein'. Consider whatyou owe to society, and don't let yourself be injured by too much work.For the sake o' your feller-creeturs, keep yourself as quiet as you can;only think what a loss you would be!' With these pathetic words, SamWeller departed.
'A very singular young man that,' said the powdered-headed footman,looking after Mr. Weller, with a countenance which clearly showed hecould make nothing of him.
Sam said nothing at all. He winked, shook his head, smiled, winkedagain; and, with an expression of countenance which seemed to denotethat he was greatly amused with something or other, walked merrily away.
At precisely twenty minutes before eight o'clock that night, AngeloCyrus Bantam, Esq., the Master of the Ceremonies, emerged from hischariot at the door of the Assembly Rooms in the same wig, the sameteeth, the same eye-glass, the same watch and seals, the same rings, thesame shirt-pin, and the same cane. The only observable alterations inhis appearance were, that he wore a brighter blue coat, with a whitesilk lining, black tights, black silk stockings, and pumps, and a whitewaistcoat, and was, if possible, just a thought more scented.
Thus attired, the Master of the Ceremonies, in strict discharge of theimportant duties of his all-important office, planted himself in theroom to receive the company.
Bath being full, the company, and the sixpences for tea, poured in, inshoals. In the ballroom, the long card-room, the octagonal card-room,the staircases, and the passages, the hum of many voices, and the soundof many feet, were perfectly bewildering. Dresses rustled, featherswaved, lights shone, and jewels sparkled. There was the music--not ofthe quadrille band, for it had not yet commenced; but the music of soft,tiny footsteps, with now and then a clear, merry laugh--low and gentle,but very pleasant to hear in a female voice, whether in Bath orelsewhere. Brilliant eyes, lighted up with pleasurable expectation,gleamed from every side; and, look where you would, some exquisite formglided gracefully through
the throng, and was no sooner lost, than itwas replaced by another as dainty and bewitching.
In the tea-room, and hovering round the card-tables, were a vast numberof queer old ladies, and decrepit old gentlemen, discussing all thesmall talk and scandal of the day, with a relish and gusto whichsufficiently bespoke the intensity of the pleasure they derived from theoccupation. Mingled with these groups, were three or four match-makingmammas, appearing to be wholly absorbed by the conversation in whichthey were taking part, but failing not from time to time to cast ananxious sidelong glance upon their daughters, who, remembering thematernal injunction to make the best use of their youth, had alreadycommenced incipient flirtations in the mislaying scarves, putting ongloves, setting down cups, and so forth; slight matters apparently, butwhich may be turned to surprisingly good account by expertpractitioners.
Lounging near the doors, and in remote corners, were various knots ofsilly young men, displaying various varieties of puppyism and stupidity;amusing all sensible people near them with their folly and conceit; andhappily thinking themselves the objects of general admiration--a wiseand merciful dispensation which no good man will quarrel with.
And lastly, seated on some of the back benches, where they had alreadytaken up their positions for the evening, were divers unmarried ladiespast their grand climacteric, who, not dancing because there were nopartners for them, and not playing cards lest they should be set down asirretrievably single, were in the favourable situation of being able toabuse everybody without reflecting on themselves. In short, they couldabuse everybody, because everybody was there. It was a scene of gaiety,glitter, and show; of richly-dressed people, handsome mirrors, chalkedfloors, girandoles and wax-candles; and in all parts of the scene,gliding from spot to spot in silent softness, bowing obsequiously tothis party, nodding familiarly to that, and smiling complacently on all,was the sprucely-attired person of Angelo Cyrus Bantam, Esquire, theMaster of the Ceremonies.
'Stop in the tea-room. Take your sixpenn'orth. Then lay on hot water,and call it tea. Drink it,' said Mr. Dowler, in a loud voice, directingMr. Pickwick, who advanced at the head of the little party, with Mrs.Dowler on his arm. Into the tea-room Mr. Pickwick turned; and catchingsight of him, Mr. Bantam corkscrewed his way through the crowd andwelcomed him with ecstasy.
'My dear Sir, I am highly honoured. Ba--ath is favoured. Mrs. Dowler,you embellish the rooms. I congratulate you on your feathers. Re-markable!'
'Anybody here?' inquired Dowler suspiciously.
'Anybody! The _elite _of Ba--ath. Mr. Pickwick, do you see the old ladyin the gauze turban?'
'The fat old lady?' inquired Mr. Pickwick innocently.
'Hush, my dear sir--nobody's fat or old in Ba--ath. That's the DowagerLady Snuphanuph.'
'Is it, indeed?' said Mr. Pickwick.
'No less a person, I assure you,' said the Master of the Ceremonies.'Hush. Draw a little nearer, Mr. Pickwick. You see the splendidly-dressed young man coming this way?'
'The one with the long hair, and the particularly small forehead?'inquired Mr. Pickwick.
'The same. The richest young man in Ba--ath at this moment. Young LordMutanhed.'
'You don't say so?' said Mr. Pickwick.
'Yes. You'll hear his voice in a moment, Mr. Pickwick. He'll speak tome. The other gentleman with him, in the red under-waistcoat and darkmoustache, is the Honourable Mr. Crushton, his bosom friend. How do youdo, my Lord?'
'Veway hot, Bantam,' said his Lordship.
'It _is_ very warm, my Lord,' replied the M.C.
'Confounded,' assented the Honourable Mr. Crushton.
'Have you seen his Lordship's mail-cart, Bantam?' inquired theHonourable Mr. Crushton, after a short pause, during which young LordMutanhed had been endeavouring to stare Mr. Pickwick out of countenance,and Mr. Crushton had been reflecting what subject his Lordship couldtalk about best.
'Dear me, no,' replied the M.C. 'A mail-cart! What an excellent idea.Re-markable!'
'Gwacious heavens!' said his Lordship, 'I thought evewebody had seen thenew mail-cart; it's the neatest, pwettiest, gwacefullest thing that everwan upon wheels. Painted wed, with a cweam piebald.'
'With a real box for the letters, and all complete,' said the HonourableMr. Crushton.
'And a little seat in fwont, with an iwon wail, for the dwiver,' addedhis Lordship. 'I dwove it over to Bwistol the other morning, in acwimson coat, with two servants widing a quarter of a mile behind; andconfound me if the people didn't wush out of their cottages, and awestmy pwogwess, to know if I wasn't the post. Glorwious--glorwious!'
At this anecdote his Lordship laughed very heartily, as did thelisteners, of course. Then, drawing his arm through that of theobsequious Mr. Crushton, Lord Mutanhed walked away.
'Delightful young man, his Lordship,' said the Master of the Ceremonies.
'So I should think,' rejoined Mr. Pickwick drily.
The dancing having commenced, the necessary introductions having beenmade, and all preliminaries arranged, Angelo Bantam rejoined Mr.Pickwick, and led him into the card-room.
Just at the very moment of their entrance, the Dowager Lady Snuphanuphand two other ladies of an ancient and whist-like appearance, werehovering over an unoccupied card-table; and they no sooner set eyes uponMr. Pickwick under the convoy of Angelo Bantam, than they exchangedglances with each other, seeing that he was precisely the very personthey wanted, to make up the rubber.
'My dear Bantam,' said the Dowager Lady Snuphanuph coaxingly, 'find ussome nice creature to make up this table; there's a good soul.' Mr.Pickwick happened to be looking another way at the moment, so herLadyship nodded her head towards him, and frowned expressively.
'My friend Mr. Pickwick, my Lady, will be most happy, I am sure,remarkably so,' said the M.C., taking the hint. 'Mr. Pickwick, LadySnuphanuph--Mrs. Colonel Wugsby--Miss Bolo.'
Mr. Pickwick bowed to each of the ladies, and, finding escapeimpossible, cut. Mr. Pickwick and Miss Bolo against Lady Snuphanuph andMrs. Colonel Wugsby.
As the trump card was turned up, at the commencement of the second deal,two young ladies hurried into the room, and took their stations oneither side of Mrs. Colonel Wugsby's chair, where they waited patientlyuntil the hand was over.
'Now, Jane,' said Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, turning to one of the girls,'what is it?'
I came to ask, ma, whether I might dance with the youngest Mr. Crawley,'whispered the prettier and younger of the two.
'Good God, Jane, how can you think of such things?' replied the mammaindignantly. 'Haven't you repeatedly heard that his father has eighthundred a year, which dies with him? I am ashamed of you. Not on anyaccount.'
'Ma,' whispered the other, who was much older than her sister, and veryinsipid and artificial, 'Lord Mutanhed has been introduced to me. I saidI thought I wasn't engaged, ma.'
'You're a sweet pet, my love,' replied Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, tapping herdaughter's cheek with her fan, 'and are always to be trusted. He'simmensely rich, my dear. Bless you!' With these words Mrs. ColonelWugsby kissed her eldest daughter most affectionately, and frowning in awarning manner upon the other, sorted her cards.
Poor Mr. Pickwick! he had never played with three thorough-paced femalecard-players before. They were so desperately sharp, that they quitefrightened him. If he played a wrong card, Miss Bolo looked a smallarmoury of daggers; if he stopped to consider which was the right one,Lady Snuphanuph would throw herself back in her chair, and smile with amingled glance of impatience and pity to Mrs. Colonel Wugsby, at whichMrs. Colonel Wugsby would shrug up her shoulders, and cough, as much asto say she wondered whether he ever would begin. Then, at the end ofevery hand, Miss Bolo would inquire with a dismal countenance andreproachful sigh, why Mr. Pickwick had not returned that diamond, or ledthe club, or roughed the spade, or finessed the heart, or led throughthe honour, or brought out the ace, or played up to the king, or somesuch thing; and in reply to all these grave charges, Mr. Pickwick wouldbe wholly unable to plead any justification whatever, having by thistime forgotten
all about the game. People came and looked on, too, whichmade Mr. Pickwick nervous. Besides all this, there was a great deal ofdistracting conversation near the table, between Angelo Bantam and thetwo Misses Matinter, who, being single and singular, paid great court tothe Master of the Ceremonies, in the hope of getting a stray partner nowand then. All these things, combined with the noises and interruptionsof constant comings in and goings out, made Mr. Pickwick play ratherbadly; the cards were against him, also; and when they left off at tenminutes past eleven, Miss Bolo rose from the table considerablyagitated, and went straight home, in a flood of tears and a sedan-chair.
Being joined by his friends, who one and all protested that they hadscarcely ever spent a more pleasant evening, Mr. Pickwick accompaniedthem to the White Hart, and having soothed his feelings with somethinghot, went to bed, and to sleep, almost simultaneously.