The Posthumous Papers of the Pickwick Club, v. 1 (of 2)

  CHAPTER XXIII

  _In which Mr. Samuel Weller begins to devote his Energies to the Return Match between himself and Mr. Trotter_

  In a small room in the vicinity of the stable-yard, 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.

  It is very possible that at some earlier period of his career, Mr.Weller's profile might have presented a bold and determined outline.His face, however, had expanded under the influence of good living,and a disposition remarkable for resignation; and its bold, fleshycurves had so far extended beyond the limits originally assignedthem, that unless you took a full view of his countenance in front,it was difficult to distinguish more than the extreme tip of a veryrubicund nose. His chin, from the same cause, had acquired the graveand imposing form which is generally described by prefixing the word"double" to that expressive feature; and his complexion exhibited thatpeculiarly mottled combination of colours which is only to be seen ingentlemen of his profession, and in under-done roast beef. Round hisneck he wore a crimson travelling shawl, which merged into his chin bysuch imperceptible gradations, that it was difficult to distinguish thefolds of the one from the folds of the other. Over this, he mounted along waistcoat of a broad pink-striped pattern, and over that again, awide-skirted green coat, ornamented with large brass buttons, whereofthe two which garnished the waist, were so far apart, that no man hadever beheld them both, at the same time. His hair, which was short,sleek, and black, was just visible beneath the capacious brim of alow-crowned brown hat. His legs were encased in knee-cord breeches andpainted top-boots; and a copper watch-chain, terminating in one seal,and a key of the same material, dangled loosely from his capaciouswaistband.

  We have said that Mr. Weller was engaged in preparing for hisjourney to London--he was taking sustenance, in fact. On the tablebefore him, stood a pot of ale, a cold round of beef, and a veryrespectable-looking loaf, to each of which he distributed his favoursin turn, with the most rigid impartiality. He had just cut a mightyslice from the latter, when the footsteps of somebody entering theroom, caused him to raise his head; 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'dha' made an uncommon fine oyster, Sammy, if you'd been born in thatstation o' life."

  "Yes, I des-say I should ha' managed to pick up a respectable livin',"replied Sam, applying himself to the cold beef, with considerablevigour.

  "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'm wery 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 contact,Sammy, never."

  "Always exceptin' the case of a widder, of course," said Sam.

  "Widders, Sammy," replied Mr. Weller, slightly changing colour,"widders are 'ceptions to ev'ry rule. I _have_ heerd how many ord'narywomen one widder's equal to, in pint o' comin' over you. I think it'sfive-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 asold as 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 'unas hasn't had half nor quarter your eddication--as hasn't slept aboutthe markets, no, not six months--who'd ha' scorned to be let in, insuch a vay; scorned it, Sammy." In the excitement of feeling producedby this agonising 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'rnor, and as soon as I catches hold o' this 'ere Trotter, I'll havea good '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 asyou've inflicted on the family name." In honour of this toast Mr.Weller imbibed at a draught, at least two-thirds of the newly-arrivedpint, and handed it over to his son, to dispose of the remainder, whichhe instantaneously did.

  "And now, Sammy," said Mr. Weller, consulting the large double-facedsilver watch that hung at the end of the copper chain. "Now it's timeI was up at the office to get my vay-bill, and see the coach loaded;for coaches, Sammy, is like guns--they requires to be loaded with werygreat care, 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 venI shall see you again. Your mother-in-law may ha' been too much forme, or a thousand things may have happened by the time you next hearsany news o' the celebrated Mr. Veller o' the Bell Savage. The familyname depends wery much upon you, Samivel, and I hope you'll do wot'sright by it. Upon all little pints o' breedin', I know I may trust youas vell as if it was my own self. So I've only this here one littlebit of adwice to give you. If ever you gets to up'ards o' fifty, andfeels disposed to go a marryin' anybody--no matter who--just you shutyourself up in your own room, if you've got one, and pison yourself offhand. Hangin's wulgar, so don't you have nothin' to say to that. Pisonyourself, Samivel, my boy, pison yourself, and you'll be glad on itarterwards." With these affecting words, Mr. Weller looked steadfastlyon his son, and turning slowly upon his heel, disappeared from hissight.

  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 court-yard 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 housesnow and then, in his deep abstraction, bestowing a wink upon somehealthy-looking servant girl as she drew up a blind or threw open abed-room window, when the green gate of a garden at the bottom of theyard opened, and a man having emerged therefrom, closed the green gatevery carefully after him, and walked briskly towards the very spotwhere Mr. Weller was standing.

  Now, taking this, as an isolated fact, unaccompanied by any attendantcircumstances, there was nothing very extraordinary in it; becausein many parts of the world, men do come out of gardens, close greengates after 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,to attract Mr. Weller's particular notice. Whether there was, or not,we must leave the reader to determine, when we have faithfully recordedthe behaviour 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 court-yard; but he nosooner caught 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 theman was, that he was contorting his face into the most fearful andastonishing grimaces that ever were beheld. Nature's handiwork neverwas disguised with such extraordinary artificial carving, as the manhad overlaid his countenance with in one moment.

  "Well!" said Mr. Weller to himself, as the man approached. "This iswery odd. 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 unearthlytwinge, perfectly hideous. He was obliged to pass very near Sam,however, and the scrutinising glance of that gentleman enabled him todetect, under all these appalling twists of feature, something too likethe small eyes of Mr. Job Trotter, to be easily mistaken.

  "Hallo, you sir!" shouted Sam, fiercely.

  The stranger stopped.

  "Hallo!" repeated Sam, still more gruffly.

  The man with the horrible face looked with the greatest surprise,up the court, and down the court, and in at the windows of thehouses--everywhere but at Sam Weller--and took another step forward,when he was brought to again, by another shout.

  "Hallo, you sir!" said Sam, for the third time.

  There was no pretending to mistake where the voice came from now, sothe stranger, having no other resource, at last looked Sam Weller fullin the face.

  "It won't do, Job Trotter," said Sam. "Come! none o' that 'erenonsense. You ain't so wery 'andsome that you can afford to throw avaymany o' your good looks. Bring them 'ere eyes o' your'n back into theirproper places, 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 knownhow I have looked forward to this meeting! It is too much, Mr. Walker;I cannot 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 vainlyendeavouring to extricate himself from the grasp of his enthusiasticacquaintance. "Get off, I tell you. What are you crying over me for,you portable ingine?"

  "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.What have 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, dryly.

  "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'tcatch cold, that dreadful night, sir?"

  There was a momentary look of deep slyness in Job Trotter's eye ashe said this, which ran a thrill through Mr. Weller's clenched fistas he burnt 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 your'n?" 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 amto be 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 ofthe purity 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," said Sam.

  "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 pinkhandkerchief into the corner of each eye, one after the other, andbegan to weep copiously.

  "Wot's the matter vith the man," said Sam, indignantly. "Chelseawater-works is nothin' to you. What are you melting vith now? Theconsciousness o' willany?"

  "I cannot keep my feelings down, Mr. Weller," said Job, after a shortpause. "To think that my master should have suspected the conversationI had 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 asking 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, "orI shall 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 bed-room.

  "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 whom?"

  "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.