'What did he do that for?' inquired Mr. Pickwick abruptly; forhe was considerably startled by this tragical termination ofthe narrative.

'Wot did he do it for, Sir?' reiterated Sam. 'Wy, in support ofhis great principle that crumpets wos wholesome, and to showthat he wouldn't be put out of his way for nobody!'With such like shiftings and changings of the discourse, didMr. Weller meet his master's questioning on the night of histaking up his residence in the Fleet. Finding all gentle remonstranceuseless, Mr. Pickwick at length yielded a reluctant consentto his taking lodgings by the week, of a bald-headed cobbler, whorented a small slip room in one of the upper galleries. To thishumble apartment Mr. Weller moved a mattress and bedding,which he hired of Mr. Roker; and, by the time he lay down uponit at night, was as much at home as if he had been bred in theprison, and his whole family had vegetated therein for three generations.

'Do you always smoke arter you goes to bed, old cock?'inquired Mr. Weller of his landlord, when they had both retiredfor the night.

'Yes, I does, young bantam,' replied the cobbler.

'Will you allow me to in-quire wy you make up your bedunder that 'ere deal table?' said Sam.

''Cause I was always used to a four-poster afore I came here,and I find the legs of the table answer just as well,' repliedthe cobbler.

'You're a character, sir,' said Sam.

'I haven't got anything of the kind belonging to me,' rejoinedthe cobbler, shaking his head; 'and if you want to meet with agood one, I'm afraid you'll find some difficulty in suiting yourselfat this register office.'

The above short dialogue took place as Mr. Weller layextended on his mattress at one end of the room, and the cobbleron his, at the other; the apartment being illumined by the lightof a rush-candle, and the cobbler's pipe, which was glowingbelow the table, like a red-hot coal. The conversation, brief as itwas, predisposed Mr. Weller strongly in his landlord's favour;and, raising himself on his elbow, he took a more lengthenedsurvey of his appearance than he had yet had either time orinclination to make.

He was a sallow man--all cobblers are; and had a strongbristly beard--all cobblers have. His face was a queer, good-tempered, crooked-featured piece of workmanship, ornamentedwith a couple of eyes that must have worn a very joyousexpression at one time, for they sparkled yet. The man was sixty,by years, and Heaven knows how old by imprisonment, so thathis having any look approaching to mirth or contentment, wassingular enough. He was a little man, and, being half doubled upas he lay in bed, looked about as long as he ought to have beenwithout his legs. He had a great red pipe in his mouth, and wassmoking, and staring at the rush-light, in a state of enviableplacidity.

'Have you been here long?' inquired Sam, breaking the silencewhich had lasted for some time.

'Twelve year,' replied the cobbler, biting the end of his pipe ashe spoke.

'Contempt?' inquired Sam.The cobbler nodded.

'Well, then,' said Sam, with some sternness, 'wot do youpersevere in bein' obstinit for, vastin' your precious life away, inthis here magnified pound? Wy don't you give in, and tell theChancellorship that you're wery sorry for makin' his courtcontemptible, and you won't do so no more?'

The cobbler put his pipe in the corner of his mouth, while he smiled,and then brought it back to its old place again; but said nothing.

'Wy don't you?' said Sam, urging his question strenuously.

'Ah,' said the cobbler, 'you don't quite understand thesematters. What do you suppose ruined me, now?'

'Wy,' said Sam, trimming the rush-light, 'I s'pose the beginnin'wos, that you got into debt, eh?'

'Never owed a farden,' said the cobbler; 'try again.'

'Well, perhaps,' said Sam, 'you bought houses, wich is delicateEnglish for goin' mad; or took to buildin', wich is a medicalterm for bein' incurable.'

The cobbler shook his head and said, 'Try again.''You didn't go to law, I hope?' said Sam suspiciously.'Never in my life,' replied the cobbler. 'The fact is, I was ruinedby having money left me.'

'Come, come,' said Sam, 'that von't do. I wish some richenemy 'ud try to vork my destruction in that 'ere vay. I'd let him.''Oh, I dare say you don't believe it,' said the cobbler, quietlysmoking his pipe. 'I wouldn't if I was you; but it's true forall that.'

'How wos it?' inquired Sam, half induced to believe the factalready, by the look the cobbler gave him.

'Just this,' replied the cobbler; 'an old gentleman that Iworked for, down in the country, and a humble relation of whoseI married--she's dead, God bless her, and thank Him for it!--was seized with a fit and went off.'

'Where?' inquired Sam, who was growing sleepy after thenumerous events of the day.

'How should I know where he went?' said the cobbler, speakingthrough his nose in an intense enjoyment of his pipe. 'He wentoff dead.'

'Oh, that indeed,' said Sam. 'Well?'

'Well,' said the cobbler, 'he left five thousand pound behind him.'

'And wery gen-teel in him so to do,' said Sam.

'One of which,' continued the cobbler, 'he left to me, 'cause Imarried his relation, you see.'

'Wery good,' murmured Sam.

'And being surrounded by a great number of nieces andnevys, as was always quarrelling and fighting among themselvesfor the property, he makes me his executor, and leaves the rest tome in trust, to divide it among 'em as the will prowided.'

'Wot do you mean by leavin' it on trust?' inquired Sam, wakingup a little. 'If it ain't ready-money, were's the use on it?''It's a law term, that's all,' said the cobbler.

'I don't think that,' said Sam, shaking his head. 'There's werylittle trust at that shop. Hows'ever, go on.''Well,' said the cobbler, 'when I was going to take out aprobate of the will, the nieces and nevys, who was desperatelydisappointed at not getting all the money, enters a caveatagainst it.''What's that?' inquired Sam.

'A legal instrument, which is as much as to say, it's no go,'replied the cobbler.

'I see,' said Sam, 'a sort of brother-in-law o' the have-his-carcass. Well.'

'But,' continued the cobbler, 'finding that they couldn't agreeamong themselves, and consequently couldn't get up a caseagainst the will, they withdrew the caveat, and I paid all thelegacies. I'd hardly done it, when one nevy brings an action to setthe will aside. The case comes on, some months afterwards, aforea deaf old gentleman, in a back room somewhere down by Paul'sChurchyard; and arter four counsels had taken a day a-piece tobother him regularly, he takes a week or two to consider, andread the evidence in six volumes, and then gives his judgmentthat how the testator was not quite right in his head, and I mustpay all the money back again, and all the costs. I appealed; thecase come on before three or four very sleepy gentlemen, who hadheard it all before in the other court, where they're lawyerswithout work; the only difference being, that, there, they'recalled doctors, and in the other place delegates, if you understandthat; and they very dutifully confirmed the decision of the oldgentleman below. After that, we went into Chancery, where weare still, and where I shall always be. My lawyers have had all mythousand pound long ago; and what between the estate, as theycall it, and the costs, I'm here for ten thousand, and shall stophere, till I die, mending shoes. Some gentlemen have talked ofbringing it before Parliament, and I dare say would have done it,only they hadn't time to come to me, and I hadn't power to goto them, and they got tired of my long letters, and dropped thebusiness. And this is God's truth, without one word of suppressionor exaggeration, as fifty people, both in this place and outof it, very well know.'

The cobbler paused to ascertain what effect his story hadproduced on Sam; but finding that he had dropped asleep, knockedthe ashes out of his pipe, sighed, put it down, drew the bed-clothes over his head, and went to sleep, too.

Mr. Pickwick was sitting at breakfast, alone, next morning(Sam being busily engaged in the cobbler's room, polishing hismaster's shoes and brushing the black gaiters) when there came aknock at the door, which, before Mr. Pickwick could cry 'Comein!' was followed by the appearance of a head of hairand a cotton-velvet cap, both of which articles of dress hehad no difficulty in recognising as the personal property ofMr. Smangle.

'How are you?' said that worthy, accompanying the inquirywith a score or two of nods; 'I say--do you expect anybody thismorning? Three men--devilish gentlemanly fellows--have beenasking after you downstairs, and knocking at every door on thehall flight; for which they've been most infernally blown up bythe collegians that had the trouble of opening 'em.'

'Dear me! How very foolish of them,' said Mr. Pickwick,rising. 'Yes; I have no doubt they are some friends whom Irather expected to see, yesterday.'

'Friends of yours!' exclaimed Smangle, seizing Mr. Pickwickby the hand. 'Say no more. Curse me, they're friends of minefrom this minute, and friends of Mivins's, too. Infernal pleasant,gentlemanly dog, Mivins, isn't he?' said Smangle, with great feeling.

'I know so little of the gentleman,' said Mr. Pickwick,hesitating, 'that I--'

'I know you do,' interrupted Smangle, clasping Mr. Pickwickby the shoulder. 'You shall know him better. You'll be delightedwith him. That man, Sir,' said Smangle, with a solemn countenance,'has comic powers that would do honour to Drury Lane Theatre.'

'Has he indeed?' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Ah, by Jove he has!' replied Smangle. 'Hear him come thefour cats in the wheel-barrow--four distinct cats, sir, I pledge youmy honour. Now you know that's infernal clever! Damme, youcan't help liking a man, when you see these traits about him.He's only one fault--that little failing I mentioned to you, you know.'

As Mr. Smangle shook his head in a confidential and sympathisingmanner at this juncture, Mr. Pickwick felt that he wasexpected to say something, so he said, 'Ah!' and looked restlesslyat the door.

'Ah!' echoed Mr. Smangle, with a long-drawn sigh. 'He'sdelightful company, that man is, sir. I don't know better companyanywhere; but he has that one drawback. If the ghost of hisgrandfather, Sir, was to rise before him this minute, he'd ask himfor the loan of his acceptance on an eightpenny stamp.''Dear me!' exclaimed Mr. Pickwick.

'Yes,' added Mr. Smangle; 'and if he'd the power of raisinghim again, he would, in two months and three days from thistime, to renew the bill!'

'Those are very remarkable traits,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'butI'm afraid that while we are talking here, my friends may be in astate of great perplexity at not finding me.'

'I'll show 'em the way,' said Smangle, making for the door.'Good-day. I won't disturb you while they're here, you know. Bythe bye--'

As Smangle pronounced the last three words, he stoppedsuddenly, reclosed the door which he had opened, and, walkingsoftly back to Mr. Pickwick, stepped close up to him on tiptoe,and said, in a very soft whisper--

'You couldn't make it convenient to lend me half-a-crown tillthe latter end of next week, could you?'

Mr. Pickwick could scarcely forbear smiling, but managing topreserve his gravity, he drew forth the coin, and placed it inMr. Smangle's palm; upon which, that gentleman, with manynods and winks, implying profound mystery, disappeared inquest of the three strangers, with whom he presently returned;and having coughed thrice, and nodded as many times, as anassurance to Mr. Pickwick that he would not forget to pay, heshook hands all round, in an engaging manner, and at lengthtook himself off.

'My dear friends,' said Mr. Pickwick, shaking hands alternatelywith Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass,who were the three visitors in question, 'I am delighted to see you.'

The triumvirate were much affected. Mr. Tupman shook hishead deploringly, Mr. Snodgrass drew forth his handkerchief,with undisguised emotion; and Mr. Winkle retired to thewindow, and sniffed aloud.

'Mornin', gen'l'm'n,' said Sam, entering at the moment withthe shoes and gaiters. 'Avay vith melincholly, as the little boysaid ven his schoolmissus died. Velcome to the college, gen'l'm'n.''This foolish fellow,' said Mr. Pickwick, tapping Sam on thehead as he knelt down to button up his master's gaiters--'thisfoolish fellow has got himself arrested, in order to be near me.''What!' exclaimed the three friends.

'Yes, gen'l'm'n,' said Sam, 'I'm a--stand steady, sir, if youplease--I'm a prisoner, gen'l'm'n. Con-fined, as the lady said.''A prisoner!' exclaimed Mr. Winkle, with unaccountable vehemence.

'Hollo, sir!' responded Sam, looking up. 'Wot's the matter, Sir?'

'I had hoped, Sam, that-- Nothing, nothing,' said Mr.Winkle precipitately.

There was something so very abrupt and unsettled in Mr.Winkle's manner, that Mr. Pickwick involuntarily looked at histwo friends for an explanation.

'We don't know,' said Mr. Tupman, answering this muteappeal aloud. 'He has been much excited for two days past,and his whole demeanour very unlike what it usually is. Wefeared there must be something the matter, but he resolutelydenies it.'

Title: The Pickwick Papers
Author: Charles Dickens
Viewed 230343 times

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