The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens (black male authors txt) đ
- Author: Charles Dickens
- Performer: 0812967275
Book online «The Pickwick Papers by Charles Dickens (black male authors txt) đ». Author Charles Dickens
Punctual to five oâclock came the stranger, and shortly afterwards the dinner. He had divested himself of his brown paper parcel, but had made no alteration in his attire, and was, if possible, more loquacious than ever.
âWhatâs that?â he inquired, as the waiter removed one of the covers.
âSoles, Sir.â
âSolesâah!âcapital fishâall come from London-stage- coach proprietors get up political dinnersâcarriage of solesâ dozens of basketsâcunning fellows. Glass of wine, Sir.â
âWith pleasure,â said Mr. Pickwick; and the stranger took wine, first with him, and then with Mr. Snodgrass, and then with Mr. Tupman, and then with Mr. Winkle, and then with the whole party together, almost as rapidly as he talked.
âDevil of a mess on the staircase, waiter,â said the stranger. âForms going upâcarpenters coming downâlamps, glasses, harps. Whatâs going forward?â
âBall, Sir,â said the waiter.
âAssembly, eh?â
âNo, Sir, not assembly, Sir. Ball for the benefit of a charity, Sir.â
âMany fine women in this town, do you know, Sir?â inquired Mr. Tupman, with great interest.
âSplendidâcapital. Kent, sirâeverybody knows Kentâ apples, cherries, hops, and women. Glass of wine, Sir!â
âWith great pleasure,â replied Mr. Tupman. The stranger filled, and emptied.
âI should very much like to go,â said Mr. Tupman, resuming the subject of the ball, âvery much.â
âTickets at the bar, Sir,â interposed the waiter; âhalf-a-guinea each, Sir.â
Mr. Tupman again expressed an earnest wish to be present at the festivity; but meeting with no response in the darkened eye of Mr. Snodgrass, or the abstracted gaze of Mr. Pickwick, he applied himself with great interest to the port wine and dessert, which had just been placed on the table. The waiter withdrew, and the party were left to enjoy the cosy couple of hours succeeding dinner.
âBeg your pardon, sir,â said the stranger, âbottle standsâpass it roundâway of the sunâthrough the buttonholeâno heeltaps,â and he emptied his glass, which he had filled about two minutes before, and poured out another, with the air of a man who was used to it.
The wine was passed, and a fresh supply ordered. The visitor talked, the Pickwickians listened. Mr. Tupman felt every moment more disposed for the ball. Mr. Pickwickâs countenance glowed with an expression of universal philanthropy, and Mr. Winkle and Mr. Snodgrass fell fast asleep.
âTheyâre beginning upstairs,â said the strangerââhear the companyâfiddles tuningânow the harpâthere they go.â The various sounds which found their way downstairs announced the commencement of the first quadrille.
âHow I should like to go,â said Mr. Tupman again.
âSo should I,â said the strangerââconfounded luggage,âheavy smacksânothing to go inâodd, ainât it?â
Now general benevolence was one of the leading features of the Pickwickian theory, and no one was more remarkable for the zealous manner in which he observed so noble a principle than Mr. Tracy Tupman. The number of instances recorded on the Transactions of the Society, in which that excellent man referred objects of charity to the houses of other members for left-off garments or pecuniary relief is almost incredible. âI should be very happy to lend you a change of apparel for the purpose,â said Mr. Tracy Tupman, âbut you are rather slim, and I amââ
âRather fatâgrown-up Bacchusâcut the leavesâdismounted from the tub, and adopted kersey, eh?ânot double distilled, but double milledâha! ha! pass the wine.â
Whether Mr. Tupman was somewhat indignant at the peremptory tone in which he was desired to pass the wine which the stranger passed so quickly away, or whether he felt very properly scandalised at an influential member of the Pickwick Club being ignominiously compared to a dismounted Bacchus, is a fact not yet completely ascertained. He passed the wine, coughed twice, and looked at the stranger for several seconds with a stern intensity; as that individual, however, appeared perfectly collected, and quite calm under his searching glance, he gradually relaxed, and reverted to the subject of the ball.
âI was about to observe, Sir,â he said, âthat though my apparel would be too large, a suit of my friend Mr. Winkleâs would, perhaps, fit you better.â
The stranger took Mr. Winkleâs measure with his eye, and that feature glistened with satisfaction as he said, âJust the thing.â
Mr. Tupman looked round him. The wine, which had exerted its somniferous influence over Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle, had stolen upon the senses of Mr. Pickwick. That gentleman had gradually passed through the various stages which precede the lethargy produced by dinner, and its consequences. He had undergone the ordinary transitions from the height of conviviality to the depth of misery, and from the depth of misery to the height of conviviality. Like a gas-lamp in the street, with the wind in the pipe, he had exhibited for a moment an unnatural brilliancy, then sank so low as to be scarcely discernible; after a short interval, he had burst out again, to enlighten for a moment; then flickered with an uncertain, staggering sort of light, and then gone out altogether. His head was sunk upon his bosom, and perpetual snoring, with a partial choke occasionally, were the only audible indications of the great manâs presence.
The temptation to be present at the ball, and to form his first impressions of the beauty of the Kentish ladies, was strong upon Mr. Tupman. The temptation to take the stranger with him was equally great. He was wholly unacquainted with the place and its inhabitants, and the stranger seemed to possess as great a knowledge of both as if he had lived there from his infancy. Mr. Winkle was asleep, and Mr. Tupman had had sufficient experience in such matters to know that the moment he awoke he would, in the ordinary course of nature, roll heavily to bed. He was undecided. âFill your glass, and pass the wine,â said the indefatigable visitor.
Mr. Tupman did as he was requested; and the additional stimulus of the last glass settled his determination.
âWinkleâs bedroom is inside mine,â said Mr. Tupman; âI couldnât make him understand what I wanted, if I woke him now, but I know he has a dress-suit in a carpet bag; and supposing you wore it to the ball, and took it off when we returned, I could replace it without troubling him at all about the matter.â
âCapital,â said the stranger, âfamous planâdamned odd situationâfourteen coats in the packing-cases, and obliged to wear another manâsâvery good notion, thatâvery.â
âWe must purchase our tickets,â said Mr. Tupman.
âNot worth while splitting a guinea,â said the stranger, âtoss who shall pay for bothâI call; you spinâfirst timeâwomanâ womanâbewitching woman,â and down came the sovereign with the dragon (called by courtesy a woman) uppermost.
Mr. Tupman rang the bell, purchased the tickets, and ordered chamber candlesticks. In another quarter of an hour the stranger was completely arrayed in a full suit of Mr. Nathaniel Winkleâs.
âItâs a new coat,â said Mr. Tupman, as the stranger surveyed himself with great complacency in a cheval glass; âthe first thatâs been made with our club button,â and he called his companionsâ attention to the large gilt button which displayed a bust of Mr. Pickwick in the centre, and the letters âP. C.â on either side.
ââP. C.ââ said the strangerââqueer set outâold fellowâs likeness, and âP. C.ââWhat does âP. C.â stand forâPeculiar Coat, eh?â
Mr. Tupman, with rising indignation and great importance, explained the mystic device.
âRather short in the waist, ainât it?â said the stranger, screwing himself round to catch a glimpse in the glass of the waist buttons, which were half-way up his back. âLike a general postmanâs coat âqueer coats thoseâmade by contractâno measuringâ mysterious dispensations of Providenceâall the short men get long coatsâall the long men short ones.â Running on in this way, Mr. Tupmanâs new companion adjusted his dress, or rather the dress of Mr. Winkle; and, accompanied by Mr. Tupman, ascended the staircase leading to the ballroom.
âWhat names, sir?â said the man at the door. Mr. Tracy Tupman was stepping forward to announce his own titles, when the stranger prevented him.
âNo names at all;â and then he whispered Mr. Tupman, ânames wonât doânot knownâvery good names in their way, but not great onesâcapital names for a small party, but wonât make an impression in public assembliesâincog. the thingâ gentlemen from Londonâdistinguished foreignersâanything.â The door was thrown open, and Mr. Tracy Tupman and the stranger entered the ballroom.
It was a long room, with crimson-covered benches, and wax candles in glass chandeliers. The musicians were securely confined in an elevated den, and quadrilles were being systematically got through by two or three sets of dancers. Two card-tables were made up in the adjoining card-room, and two pair of old ladies, and a corresponding number of stout gentlemen, were executing whist therein.
The finale concluded, the dancers promenaded the room, and Mr. Tupman and his companion stationed themselves in a corner to observe the company.
âCharming women,â said Mr. Tupman.
âWait a minute,â said the stranger, âfun presentlyânobs not come yetâqueer placeâdockyard people of upper rank donât know dockyard people of lower rankâdockyard people of lower rank donât know small gentryâsmall gentry donât know tradespeopleâcommissioner donât know anybody.â
âWhoâs that little boy with the light hair and pink eyes, in a fancy dress?âinquired Mr. Tupman.
âHush, prayâpink eyesâfancy dressâlittle boyânonsenseâ ensign 97thâHonourable Wilmot Snipeâgreat familyâSnipesâvery.â
âSir Thomas Clubber, Lady Clubber, and the Misses Clubber!â shouted the man at the door in a stentorian voice. A great sensation was created throughout the room by the entrance of a tall gentleman in a blue coat and bright buttons, a large lady in blue satin, and two young ladies, on a similar scale, in fashionably-made dresses of the same hue.
âCommissionerâhead of the yardâgreat manâremarkably great man,â whispered the stranger in Mr. Tupmanâs ear, as the charitable committee ushered Sir Thomas Clubber and family to the top of the room. The Honourable Wilmot Snipe, and other distinguished gentlemen crowded to render homage to the Misses Clubber; and Sir Thomas Clubber stood bolt upright, and looked majestically over his black kerchief at the assembled company.
âMr. Smithie, Mrs. Smithie, and the Misses Smithie,â was the next announcement.
âWhatâs Mr. Smithie?â inquired Mr. Tracy Tupman.
âSomething in the yard,â replied the stranger. Mr. Smithie bowed deferentially to Sir Thomas Clubber; and Sir Thomas Clubber acknowledged the salute with conscious condescension. Lady Clubber took a telescopic view of Mrs. Smithie and family through her eyeglass and Mrs. Smithie stared in her turn at Mrs. Somebody-else, whose husband was not in the dockyard at all.
âColonel Bulder, Mrs. Colonel Bulder, and Miss Bulder,â were the next arrivals.
âHead of the garrison,â said the stranger, in reply to Mr. Tupmanâs inquiring look.
Miss Bulder was warmly welcomed by the Misses Clubber; the greeting between Mrs. Colonel Bulder and Lady Clubber was of the most affectionate description; Colonel Bulder and Sir Thomas Clubber exchanged snuff-boxes, and looked very much like a pair of Alexander SelkirksââMonarchs of all they surveyed.â
While the aristocracy of the placeâthe Bulders, and Clubbers, and Snipesâwere thus preserving their dignity at the upper end of the room, the other classes of society were imitating their example in other parts of it. The less aristocratic officers of the 97th devoted themselves to the families of the less important functionaries from the dockyard. The solicitorsâ wives, and the wine-merchantâs wife, headed another grade (the brewerâs wife visited the Bulders); and Mrs. Tomlinson, the post-office keeper, seemed by mutual consent to have been chosen the leader of the trade party.
One of the most popular personages, in his own circle, present, was a little fat man, with a
Comments (0)