A Good-Humoured Christmas Chapter by Charles Dickens
A Good-Humoured Christmas Chapter, Containing an Account of a Wedding, and Some Other Sports Beside: “Which although in their way, even as good customs as marriage itself, are not quite so religiously kept up, in these degenerate times” is excerpted from Dickens’ first novel, The Pickwick Papers (1837), chapter XXVIII.
As brisk as bees, if not altogether as light as fairies, did the four Pickwickians assemble on the morning of the twenty-second day of December, in the year of grace in which these, their faithfully-recorded adventures, were undertaken and accomplished. Christmas was close at hand, in all his bluff and hearty honesty; it was the season of hospitality, merriment, and open-heartedness; the old year was preparing, like an ancient philosopher, to call his friends around him, and amidst the sound of feasting and revelry to pass gently and calmly away. Gay and merry was the time; and right gay and merry were at least four of the numerous hearts that were gladdened by its coming.
The Pickwick Papers, A Good-Humoured Christmas, Chapter XXVIIIAnd numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas brings a brief season of happiness and enjoyment. How many families, whose members have been dispersed and scattered far and wide, in the restless struggles of life, are then reunited, and meet once again in that happy state of companionship and mutual goodwill, which is a source of such pure and unalloyed delight; and one so incompatible with the cares and sorrows of the world, that the religious belief of the most civilised nations, and the rude traditions of the roughest savages, alike number it among the first joys of a future condition of existence, provided for the blessed and happy! How many old recollections, and how many dormant sympathies, does Christmas time awaken!
We write these words now, many miles distant from the spot at which, year after year, we met on that day, a merry and joyous circle. Many of the hearts that throbbed so gaily then, have ceased to beat; many of the looks that shone so brightly then, have ceased to glow; the hands we grasped, have grown cold; the eyes we sought, have hid their lustre in the grave; and yet the old house, the room, the merry voices and smiling faces, the jest, the laugh, the most minute and trivial circumstances connected with those happy meetings, crowd upon our mind at each recurrence of the season, as if the last assemblage had been but yesterday! Happy, happy Christmas, that can win us back to the delusions of our childish days; that can recall to the old man the pleasures of his youth; that can transport the sailor and the traveller, thousands of miles away, back to his own fireside and his quiet home!
But we are so taken up and occupied with the good qualities of this saint Christmas, that we are keeping Mr. Pickwick and his friends waiting in the cold on the outside of the Muggleton coach, which they have just attained, well wrapped up in great-coats, shawls, and comforters. The portmanteaus and carpet-bags have been stowed away, and Mr. Weller and the guard are endeavouring to insinuate into the fore-boot a huge cod-fish several sizes too large for itโwhich is snugly packed up, in a long brown basket, with a layer of straw over the top, and which has been left to the last, in order that he may repose in safety on the half-dozen barrels of real native oysters, all the property of Mr. Pickwick, which have been arranged in regular order at the bottom of the receptacle. The interest displayed in Mr. Pickwickโs countenance is most intense, as Mr. Weller and the guard try to squeeze the cod-fish into the boot, first head first, and then tail first, and then top upward, and then bottom upward, and then side-ways, and then long-ways, all of which artifices the implacable cod-fish sturdily resists, until the guard accidentally hits him in the very middle of the basket, whereupon he suddenly disappears into the boot, and with him, the head and shoulders of the guard himself, who, not calculating upon so sudden a cessation of the passive resistance of the cod-fish, experiences a very unexpected shock, to the unsmotherable delight of all the porters and bystanders. Upon this, Mr. Pickwick smiles with great good-humour, and drawing a shilling from his waistcoat pocket, begs the guard, as he picks himself out of the boot, to drink his health in a glass of hot brandy-and-water; at which the guard smiles too, and Messrs. Snodgrass, Winkle, and Tupman, all smile in company. The guard and Mr. Weller disappear for five minutes, most probably to get the hot brandy-and-water, for they smell very strongly of it, when they return, the coachman mounts to the box, Mr. Weller jumps up behind, the Pickwickians pull their coats round their legs and their shawls over their noses, the helpers pull the horse-cloths off, the coachman shouts out a cheery โAll right,โ and away they go.
They have rumbled through the streets, and jolted over the stones, and at length reach the wide and open country. The wheels skim over the hard and frosty ground; and the horses, bursting into a canter at a smart crack of the whip, step along the road as if the load behind themโcoach, passengers, cod-fish, oyster-barrels, and allโwere but a feather at their heels. They have descended a gentle slope, and enter upon a level, as compact and dry as a solid block of marble, two miles long. Another crack of the whip, and on they speed, at a smart gallop, the horses tossing their heads and rattling the harness, as if in exhilaration at the rapidity of the motion; while the coachman, holding whip and reins in one hand, takes off his hat with the other, and resting it on his knees, pulls out his handkerchief, and wipes his forehead, partly because he has a habit of doing it, and partly because itโs as well to show the passengers how cool he is, and what an easy thing it is to drive four-in-hand, when you have had as much practice as he has. Having done this very leisurely (otherwise the effect would be materially impaired), he replaces his handkerchief, pulls on his hat, adjusts his gloves, squares his elbows, cracks the whip again, and on they speed, more merrily than before.
A few small houses, scattered on either side of the road, betoken the entrance to some town or village. The lively notes of the guardโs key-bugle vibrate in the clear cold air, and wake up the old gentleman inside, who, carefully letting down the window-sash half-way, and standing sentry over the air, takes a short peep out, and then carefully pulling it up again, informs the other inside that theyโre going to change directly; on which the other inside wakes himself up, and determines to postpone his next nap until after the stoppage. Again the bugle sounds lustily forth, and rouses the cottagerโs wife and children, who peep out at the house door, and watch the coach till it turns the corner, when they once more crouch round the blazing fire, and throw on another log of wood against father comes home; while father himself, a full mile off, has just exchanged a friendly nod with the coachman, and turned round to take a good long stare at the vehicle as it whirls away.
And now the bugle plays a lively air as the coach rattles through the ill-paved streets of a country town; and the coachman, undoing the buckle which keeps his ribands together, prepares to throw them off the moment he stops. Mr. Pickwick emerges from his coat collar, and looks about him with great curiosity; perceiving which, the coachman informs Mr. Pickwick of the name of the town, and tells him it was market-day yesterday, both of which pieces of information Mr. Pickwick retails to his fellow-passengers; whereupon they emerge from their coat collars too, and look about them also. Mr. Winkle, who sits at the extreme edge, with one leg dangling in the air, is nearly precipitated into the street, as the coach twists round the sharp corner by the cheesemongerโs shop, and turns into the market-place; and before Mr. Snodgrass, who sits next to him, has recovered from his alarm, they pull up at the inn yard where the fresh horses, with cloths on, are already waiting. The coachman throws down the reins and gets down himself, and the other outside passengers drop down also; except those who have no great confidence in their ability to get up again; and they remain where they are, and stamp their feet against the coach to warm themโlooking, with longing eyes and red noses, at the bright fire in the inn bar, and the sprigs of holly with red berries which ornament the window.
But the guard has delivered at the corn-dealerโs shop, the brown paper packet he took out of the little pouch which hangs over his shoulder by a leathern strap; and has seen the horses carefully put to; and has thrown on the pavement the saddle which was brought from London on the coach roof; and has assisted in the conference between the coachman and the hostler about the gray mare that hurt her off fore-leg last Tuesday; and he and Mr. Weller are all right behind, and the coachman is all right in front, and the old gentleman inside, who has kept the window down full two inches all this time, has pulled it up again, and the cloths are off, and they are all ready for starting, except the โtwo stout gentlemen,โ whom the coachman inquires after with some impatience. Hereupon the coachman, and the guard, and Sam Weller, and Mr. Winkle, and Mr. Snodgrass, and all the hostlers, and every one of the idlers, who are more in number than all the others put together, shout for the missing gentlemen as loud as they can bawl. A distant response is heard from the yard, and Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman come running down it, quite out of breath, for they have been having a glass of ale a-piece, and Mr. Pickwickโs fingers are so cold that he has been full five minutes before he could find the sixpence to pay for it. The coachman shouts an admonitory โNow then, genโlโmโn,โ the guard re-echoes it; the old gentleman inside thinks it a very extraordinary thing that people will get down when they know there isnโt time for it; Mr. Pickwick struggles up on one side, Mr. Tupman on the other; Mr. Winkle cries โAll rightโ; and off they start. Shawls are pulled up, coat collars are readjusted, the pavement ceases, the houses disappear; and they are once again dashing along the open road, with the fresh clear air blowing in their faces, and gladdening their very hearts within them.
Such was the progress of Mr. Pickwick and his friends by the Muggleton Telegraph, on their way to Dingley Dell; and at three oโclock that afternoon they all stood high and dry, safe and sound, hale and hearty, upon the steps of the Blue Lion, having taken on the road quite enough of ale and brandy, to enable them to bid defiance to the frost that was binding up the earth in its iron fetters, and weaving its beautiful network upon the trees and hedges. Mr. Pickwick was busily engaged in counting the barrels of oysters and superintending the disinterment of the cod-fish, when he felt himself gently pulled by the skirts of the coat. Looking round, he discovered that the individual who resorted to this mode of catching his attention was no other than Mr. Wardleโs favourite page, better known to the readers of this unvarnished history, by the distinguishing appellation of the fat boy.
โAha!โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โAha!โ said the fat boy.
As he said it, he glanced from the cod-fish to the oyster-barrels, and chuckled joyously. He was fatter than ever.
โWell, you look rosy enough, my young friend,โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โIโve been asleep, right in front of the taproom fire,โ replied the fat boy, who had heated himself to the colour of a new chimney-pot, in the course of an hourโs nap. โMaster sent me over with the chay-cart, to carry your luggage up to the house. Heโd haโ sent some saddle-horses, but he thought youโd rather walk, being a cold day.โ
โYes, yes,โ said Mr. Pickwick hastily, for he remembered how they had travelled over nearly the same ground on a previous occasion. โYes, we would rather walk. Here, Sam!โ
โSir,โ said Mr. Weller.
โHelp Mr. Wardleโs servant to put the packages into the cart, and then ride on with him. We will walk forward at once.โ
Having given this direction, and settled with the coachman, Mr. Pickwick and his three friends struck into the footpath across the fields, and walked briskly away, leaving Mr. Weller and the fat boy confronted together for the first time. Sam looked at the fat boy with great astonishment, but without saying a word; and began to stow the luggage rapidly away in the cart, while the fat boy stood quietly by, and seemed to think it a very interesting sort of thing to see Mr. Weller working by himself.
โThere,โ said Sam, throwing in the last carpet-bag, โthere they are!โ
โYes,โ said the fat boy, in a very satisfied tone, โthere they are.โ
โVell, young twenty stun,โ said Sam, โyouโre a nice specimen of a prize boy, you are!โ
Thankโee,โ said the fat boy.
โYou ainโt got nothinโ on your mind as makes you fret yourself, have you?โ inquired Sam.
โNot as I knows on,โ replied the fat boy.
โI should rayther haโ thought, to look at you, that you was a-labourinโ under an unrequited attachment to some young โooman,โ said Sam.
The fat boy shook his head.
โVell,โ said Sam, โI am glad to hear it. Do you ever drink anythinโ?โ
โI likes eating better,โ replied the boy.
โAh,โ said Sam, โI should haโ sโposed that; but what I mean is, should you like a drop of anythinโ asโd warm you? but I sโpose you never was cold, with all them elastic fixtures, was you?โ
โSometimes,โ replied the boy; โand I likes a drop of something, when itโs good.โ
โOh, you do, do you?โ said Sam, โcome this way, then!โ
The Blue Lion tap was soon gained, and the fat boy swallowed a glass of liquor without so much as winkingโa feat which considerably advanced him in Mr. Wellerโs good opinion. Mr. Weller having transacted a similar piece of business on his own account, they got into the cart.
โCan you drive?โ said the fat boy.
โI should rayther think so,โ replied Sam.
โThere, then,โ said the fat boy, putting the reins in his hand, and pointing up a lane, โitโs as straight as you can go; you canโt miss it.โ
With these words, the fat boy laid himself affectionately down by the side of the cod-fish, and, placing an oyster-barrel under his head for a pillow, fell asleep instantaneously.
โWell,โ said Sam, โof all the cool boys ever I set my eyes on, this here young genโlโmโn is the coolest. Come, wake up, young dropsy!โ
But as young dropsy evinced no symptoms of returning animation, Sam Weller sat himself down in front of the cart, and starting the old horse with a jerk of the rein, jogged steadily on, towards the Manor Farm.
Meanwhile, Mr. Pickwick and his friends having walked their blood into active circulation, proceeded cheerfully on. The paths were hard; the grass was crisp and frosty; the air had a fine, dry, bracing coldness; and the rapid approach of the gray twilight (slate-coloured is a better term in frosty weather) made them look forward with pleasant anticipation to the comforts which awaited them at their hospitable entertainerโs. It was the sort of afternoon that might induce a couple of elderly gentlemen, in a lonely field, to take off their greatcoats and play at leap-frog in pure lightness of heart and gaiety; and we firmly believe that had Mr. Tupman at that moment proffered โa back,โ Mr. Pickwick would have accepted his offer with the utmost avidity.
However, Mr. Tupman did not volunteer any such accommodation, and the friends walked on, conversing merrily. As they turned into a lane they had to cross, the sound of many voices burst upon their ears; and before they had even had time to form a guess to whom they belonged, they walked into the very centre of the party who were expecting their arrivalโa fact which was first notified to the Pickwickians, by the loud โHurrah,โ which burst from old Wardleโs lips, when they appeared in sight.
First, there was Wardle himself, looking, if that were possible, more jolly than ever; then there were Bella and her faithful Trundle; and, lastly, there were Emily and some eight or ten young ladies, who had all come down to the wedding, which was to take place next day, and who were in as happy and important a state as young ladies usually are, on such momentous occasions; and they were, one and all, startling the fields and lanes, far and wide, with their frolic and laughter.
The ceremony of introduction, under such circumstances, was very soon performed, or we should rather say that the introduction was soon over, without any ceremony at all. In two minutes thereafter, Mr. Pickwick was joking with the young ladies who wouldnโt come over the stile while he lookedโor who, having pretty feet and unexceptionable ankles, preferred standing on the top rail for five minutes or so, declaring that they were too frightened to moveโwith as much ease and absence of reserve or constraint, as if he had known them for life. It is worthy of remark, too, that Mr. Snodgrass offered Emily far more assistance than the absolute terrors of the stile (although it was full three feet high, and had only a couple of stepping-stones) would seem to require; while one black-eyed young lady in a very nice little pair of boots with fur round the top, was observed to scream very loudly, when Mr. Winkle offered to help her over.
All this was very snug and pleasant. And when the difficulties of the stile were at last surmounted, and they once more entered on the open field, old Wardle informed Mr. Pickwick how they had all been down in a body to inspect the furniture and fittings-up of the house, which the young couple were to tenant, after the Christmas holidays; at which communication Bella and Trundle both coloured up, as red as the fat boy after the taproom fire; and the young lady with the black eyes and the fur round the boots, whispered something in Emilyโs ear, and then glanced archly at Mr. Snodgrass; to which Emily responded that she was a foolish girl, but turned very red, notwithstanding; and Mr. Snodgrass, who was as modest as all great geniuses usually are, felt the crimson rising to the crown of his head, and devoutly wished, in the inmost recesses of his own heart, that the young lady aforesaid, with her black eyes, and her archness, and her boots with the fur round the top, were all comfortably deposited in the adjacent county.
But if they were social and happy outside the house, what was the warmth and cordiality of their reception when they reached the farm! The very servants grinned with pleasure at sight of Mr. Pickwick; and Emma bestowed a half-demure, half-impudent, and all-pretty look of recognition, on Mr. Tupman, which was enough to make the statue of Bonaparte in the passage, unfold his arms, and clasp her within them.
The old lady was seated with customary state in the front parlour, but she was rather cross, and, by consequence, most particularly deaf. She never went out herself, and like a great many other old ladies of the same stamp, she was apt to consider it an act of domestic treason, if anybody else took the liberty of doing what she couldnโt. So, bless her old soul, she sat as upright as she could, in her great chair, and looked as fierce as might beโand that was benevolent after all.
โMother,โ said Wardle, โMr. Pickwick. You recollect him?โ
โNever mind,โ replied the old lady, with great dignity. โDonโt trouble Mr. Pickwick about an old creetur like me. Nobody cares about me now, and itโs very natโral they shouldnโt.โ Here the old lady tossed her head, and smoothed down her lavender-coloured silk dress with trembling hands.
โCome, come, maโam,โ said Mr. Pickwick, โI canโt let you cut an old friend in this way. I have come down expressly to have a long talk, and another rubber with you; and weโll show these boys and girls how to dance a minuet, before theyโre eight-and-forty hours older.โ
The old lady was rapidly giving way, but she did not like to do it all at once; so she only said, โAh! I canโt hear him!โ
โNonsense, mother,โ said Wardle. โCome, come, donโt be cross, thereโs a good soul. Recollect Bella; come, you must keep her spirits up, poor girl.โ
The good old lady heard this, for her lip quivered as her son said it. But age has its little infirmities of temper, and she was not quite brought round yet. So, she smoothed down the lavender-coloured dress again, and turning to Mr. Pickwick said, โAh, Mr. Pickwick, young people was very different, when I was a girl.โ
โNo doubt of that, maโam,โ said Mr. Pickwick, โand thatโs the reason why I would make much of the few that have any traces of the old stockโโand saying this, Mr. Pickwick gently pulled Bella towards him, and bestowing a kiss upon her forehead, bade her sit down on the little stool at her grandmotherโs feet. Whether the expression of her countenance, as it was raised towards the old ladyโs face, called up a thought of old times, or whether the old lady was touched by Mr. Pickwickโs affectionate good-nature, or whatever was the cause, she was fairly melted; so she threw herself on her granddaughterโs neck, and all the little ill-humour evaporated in a gush of silent tears.
A happy party they were, that night. Sedate and solemn were the score of rubbers in which Mr. Pickwick and the old lady played together; uproarious was the mirth of the round table. Long after the ladies had retired, did the hot elder wine, well qualified with brandy and spice, go round, and round, and round again; and sound was the sleep and pleasant were the dreams that followed. It is a remarkable fact that those of Mr. Snodgrass bore constant reference to Emily Wardle; and that the principal figure in Mr. Winkleโs visions was a young lady with black eyes, and arch smile, and a pair of remarkably nice boots with fur round the tops.
Mr. Pickwick was awakened early in the morning, by a hum of voices and a pattering of feet, sufficient to rouse even the fat boy from his heavy slumbers. He sat up in bed and listened. The female servants and female visitors were running constantly to and fro; and there were such multitudinous demands for hot water, such repeated outcries for needles and thread, and so many half-suppressed entreaties of โOh, do come and tie me, thereโs a dear!โ that Mr. Pickwick in his innocence began to imagine that something dreadful must have occurredโwhen he grew more awake, and remembered the wedding. The occasion being an important one, he dressed himself with peculiar care, and descended to the breakfast-room.
There were all the female servants in a bran new uniform of pink muslin gowns with white bows in their caps, running about the house in a state of excitement and agitation which it would be impossible to describe. The old lady was dressed out in a brocaded gown, which had not seen the light for twenty years, saving and excepting such truant rays as had stolen through the chinks in the box in which it had been laid by, during the whole time. Mr. Trundle was in high feather and spirits, but a little nervous withal. The hearty old landlord was trying to look very cheerful and unconcerned, but failing signally in the attempt. All the girls were in tears and white muslin, except a select two or three, who were being honoured with a private view of the bride and bridesmaids, upstairs. All the Pickwickians were in most blooming array; and there was a terrific roaring on the grass in front of the house, occasioned by all the men, boys, and hobbledehoys attached to the farm, each of whom had got a white bow in his button-hole, and all of whom were cheering with might and main; being incited thereto, and stimulated therein by the precept and example of Mr. Samuel Weller, who had managed to become mighty popular already, and was as much at home as if he had been born on the land.
A wedding is a licensed subject to joke upon, but there really is no great joke in the matter after all;โwe speak merely of the ceremony, and beg it to be distinctly understood that we indulge in no hidden sarcasm upon a married life. Mixed up with the pleasure and joy of the occasion, are the many regrets at quitting home, the tears of parting between parent and child, the consciousness of leaving the dearest and kindest friends of the happiest portion of human life, to encounter its cares and troubles with others still untried and little knownโnatural feelings which we would not render this chapter mournful by describing, and which we should be still more unwilling to be supposed to ridicule.
Let us briefly say, then, that the ceremony was performed by the old clergyman, in the parish church of Dingley Dell, and that Mr. Pickwickโs name is attached to the register, still preserved in the vestry thereof; that the young lady with the black eyes signed her name in a very unsteady and tremulous manner; that Emilyโs signature, as the other bridesmaid, is nearly illegible; that it all went off in very admirable style; that the young ladies generally thought it far less shocking than they had expected; and that although the owner of the black eyes and the arch smile informed Mr. Wardle that she was sure she could never submit to anything so dreadful, we have the very best reasons for thinking she was mistaken. To all this, we may add, that Mr. Pickwick was the first who saluted the bride, and that in so doing he threw over her neck a rich gold watch and chain, which no mortal eyes but the jewellerโs had ever beheld before. Then, the old church bell rang as gaily as it could, and they all returned to breakfast.
โVere does the mince-pies go, young opium-eater?โ said Mr. Weller to the fat boy, as he assisted in laying out such articles of consumption as had not been duly arranged on the previous night.
The fat boy pointed to the destination of the pies.
โWery good,โ said Sam, โstick a bit oโ Christmas in โem. Tโother dish opposite. There; now we look compact and comfortable, as the father said ven he cut his little boyโs head off, to cure him oโ squintinโ.โ
As Mr. Weller made the comparison, he fell back a step or two, to give full effect to it, and surveyed the preparations with the utmost satisfaction.
โWardle,โ said Mr. Pickwick, almost as soon as they were all seated, โa glass of wine in honour of this happy occasion!โ
โI shall be delighted, my boy,โ said Wardle. โJoeโdamn that boy, heโs gone to sleep.โ
No, I ainโt, sir,โ replied the fat boy, starting up from a remote corner, where, like the patron saint of fat boysโthe immortal Hornerโhe had been devouring a Christmas pie, though not with the coolness and deliberation which characterised that young gentlemanโs proceedings.
โFill Mr. Pickwickโs glass.โ
โYes, sir.โ
The fat boy filled Mr. Pickwickโs glass, and then retired behind his masterโs chair, from whence he watched the play of the knives and forks, and the progress of the choice morsels from the dishes to the mouths of the company, with a kind of dark and gloomy joy that was most impressive.
โGod bless you, old fellow!โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โSame to you, my boy,โ replied Wardle; and they pledged each other, heartily.
โMrs. Wardle,โ said Mr. Pickwick, โwe old folks must have a glass of wine together, in honour of this joyful event.โ
The old lady was in a state of great grandeur just then, for she was sitting at the top of the table in the brocaded gown, with her newly-married granddaughter on one side, and Mr. Pickwick on the other, to do the carving. Mr. Pickwick had not spoken in a very loud tone, but she understood him at once, and drank off a full glass of wine to his long life and happiness; after which the worthy old soul launched forth into a minute and particular account of her own wedding, with a dissertation on the fashion of wearing high-heeled shoes, and some particulars concerning the life and adventures of the beautiful Lady Tollimglower, deceased; at all of which the old lady herself laughed very heartily indeed, and so did the young ladies too, for they were wondering among themselves what on earth grandma was talking about. When they laughed, the old lady laughed ten times more heartily, and said that these always had been considered capital stories, which caused them all to laugh again, and put the old lady into the very best of humours. Then the cake was cut, and passed through the ring; the young ladies saved pieces to put under their pillows to dream of their future husbands on; and a great deal of blushing and merriment was thereby occasioned.
โMr. Miller,โ said Mr. Pickwick to his old acquaintance, the hard-headed gentleman, โa glass of wine?โ
โWith great satisfaction, Mr. Pickwick,โ replied the hard-headed gentleman solemnly.
โYouโll take me in?โ said the benevolent old clergyman.
โAnd me,โ interposed his wife.
โAnd me, and me,โ said a couple of poor relations at the bottom of the table, who had eaten and drunk very heartily, and laughed at everything.
Mr. Pickwick expressed his heartfelt delight at every additional suggestion; and his eyes beamed with hilarity and cheerfulness.
โLadies and gentlemen,โ said Mr. Pickwick, suddenly rising.
โHear, hear! Hear, hear! Hear, hear!โ cried Mr. Weller, in the excitement of his feelings.
โCall in all the servants,โ cried old Wardle, interposing to prevent the public rebuke which Mr. Weller would otherwise most indubitably have received from his master. โGive them a glass of wine each to drink the toast in. Now, Pickwick.โ
Amidst the silence of the company, the whispering of the women-servants, and the awkward embarrassment of the men, Mr. Pickwick proceededโ
โLadies and gentlemenโno, I wonโt say ladies and gentlemen, Iโll call you my friends, my dear friends, if the ladies will allow me to take so great a libertyโโ
Here Mr. Pickwick was interrupted by immense applause from the ladies, echoed by the gentlemen, during which the owner of the eyes was distinctly heard to state that she could kiss that dear Mr. Pickwick. Whereupon Mr. Winkle gallantly inquired if it couldnโt be done by deputy: to which the young lady with the black eyes replied โGo away,โ and accompanied the request with a look which said as plainly as a look could do, โif you can.โ
โMy dear friends,โ resumed Mr. Pickwick, โI am going to propose the health of the bride and bridegroomโGod bless โem (cheers and tears). My young friend, Trundle, I believe to be a very excellent and manly fellow; and his wife I know to be a very amiable and lovely girl, well qualified to transfer to another sphere of action the happiness which for twenty years she has diffused around her, in her fatherโs house. (Here, the fat boy burst forth into stentorian blubberings, and was led forth by the coat collar, by Mr. Weller.) I wish,โ added Mr. PickwickโโI wish I was young enough to be her sisterโs husband (cheers), but, failing that, I am happy to be old enough to be her father; for, being so, I shall not be suspected of any latent designs when I say, that I admire, esteem, and love them both (cheers and sobs). The brideโs father, our good friend there, is a noble person, and I am proud to know him (great uproar). He is a kind, excellent, independent-spirited, fine-hearted, hospitable, liberal man (enthusiastic shouts from the poor relations, at all the adjectives; and especially at the two last). That his daughter may enjoy all the happiness, even he can desire; and that he may derive from the contemplation of her felicity all the gratification of heart and peace of mind which he so well deserves, is, I am persuaded, our united wish. So, let us drink their healths, and wish them prolonged life, and every blessing!โ
Mr. Pickwick concluded amidst a whirlwind of applause; and once more were the lungs of the supernumeraries, under Mr. Wellerโs command, brought into active and efficient operation. Mr. Wardle proposed Mr. Pickwick; Mr. Pickwick proposed the old lady. Mr. Snodgrass proposed Mr. Wardle; Mr. Wardle proposed Mr. Snodgrass. One of the poor relations proposed Mr. Tupman, and the other poor relation proposed Mr. Winkle; all was happiness and festivity, until the mysterious disappearance of both the poor relations beneath the table, warned the party that it was time to adjourn.
At dinner they met again, after a five-and-twenty mile walk, undertaken by the males at Wardleโs recommendation, to get rid of the effects of the wine at breakfast. The poor relations had kept in bed all day, with the view of attaining the same happy consummation, but, as they had been unsuccessful, they stopped there. Mr. Weller kept the domestics in a state of perpetual hilarity; and the fat boy divided his time into small alternate allotments of eating and sleeping.
The dinner was as hearty an affair as the breakfast, and was quite as noisy, without the tears. Then came the dessert and some more toasts. Then came the tea and coffee; and then, the ball.
The best sitting-room at Manor Farm was a good, long, dark-panelled room with a high chimney-piece, and a capacious chimney, up which you could have driven one of the new patent cabs, wheels and all. At the upper end of the room, seated in a shady bower of holly and evergreens were the two best fiddlers, and the only harp, in all Muggleton. In all sorts of recesses, and on all kinds of brackets, stood massive old silver candlesticks with four branches each. The carpet was up, the candles burned bright, the fire blazed and crackled on the hearth, and merry voices and light-hearted laughter rang through the room. If any of the old English yeomen had turned into fairies when they died, it was just the place in which they would have held their revels.
If anything could have added to the interest of this agreeable scene, it would have been the remarkable fact of Mr. Pickwickโs appearing without his gaiters, for the first time within the memory of his oldest friends.
โYou mean to dance?โ said Wardle.
โOf course I do,โ replied Mr. Pickwick. โDonโt you see I am dressed for the purpose?โ Mr. Pickwick called attention to his speckled silk stockings, and smartly tied pumps.
โYou in silk stockings!โ exclaimed Mr. Tupman jocosely.
โAnd why not, sirโwhy not?โ said Mr. Pickwick, turning warmly upon him.
โOh, of course there is no reason why you shouldnโt wear them,โ responded Mr. Tupman.
โI imagine not, sirโI imagine not,โ said Mr. Pickwick, in a very peremptory tone.
Mr. Tupman had contemplated a laugh, but he found it was a serious matter; so he looked grave, and said they were a pretty pattern.
โI hope they are,โ said Mr. Pickwick, fixing his eyes upon his friend. โYou see nothing extraordinary in the stockings, as stockings, I trust, Sir?โ
โCertainly not. Oh, certainly not,โ replied Mr. Tupman. He walked away; and Mr. Pickwickโs countenance resumed its customary benign expression.
โWe are all ready, I believe,โ said Mr. Pickwick, who was stationed with the old lady at the top of the dance, and had already made four false starts, in his excessive anxiety to commence.
โThen begin at once,โ said Wardle. โNow!โ
Up struck the two fiddles and the one harp, and off went Mr. Pickwick into hands across, when there was a general clapping of hands, and a cry of โStop, stop!โ
โWhatโs the matter?โ said Mr. Pickwick, who was only brought to, by the fiddles and harp desisting, and could have been stopped by no other earthly power, if the house had been on fire.
โWhereโs Arabella Allen?โ cried a dozen voices.
โAnd Winkle?โ added Mr. Tupman.
โHere we are!โ exclaimed that gentleman, emerging with his pretty companion from the corner; as he did so, it would have been hard to tell which was the redder in the face, he or the young lady with the black eyes.
โWhat an extraordinary thing it is, Winkle,โ said Mr. Pickwick, rather pettishly, โthat you couldnโt have taken your place before.โ
โNot at all extraordinary,โ said Mr. Winkle.
โWell,โ said Mr. Pickwick, with a very expressive smile, as his eyes rested on Arabella, โwell, I donโt know that it was extraordinary, either, after all.โ
However, there was no time to think more about the matter, for the fiddles and harp began in real earnest. Away went Mr. Pickwickโhands acrossโdown the middle to the very end of the room, and half-way up the chimney, back again to the doorโpoussette everywhereโloud stamp on the groundโready for the next coupleโoff againโall the figure over once moreโanother stamp to beat out the timeโnext couple, and the next, and the next againโnever was such going; at last, after they had reached the bottom of the dance, and full fourteen couple after the old lady had retired in an exhausted state, and the clergymanโs wife had been substituted in her stead, did that gentleman, when there was no demand whatever on his exertions, keep perpetually dancing in his place, to keep time to the music, smiling on his partner all the while with a blandness of demeanour which baffles all description.
Long before Mr. Pickwick was weary of dancing, the newly-married couple had retired from the scene. There was a glorious supper downstairs, notwithstanding, and a good long sitting after it; and when Mr. Pickwick awoke, late the next morning, he had a confused recollection of having, severally and confidentially, invited somewhere about five-and-forty people to dine with him at the George and Vulture, the very first time they came to London; which Mr. Pickwick rightly considered a pretty certain indication of his having taken something besides exercise, on the previous night.
โAnd so your family has games in the kitchen to-night, my dear, has they?โ inquired Sam of Emma.
โYes, Mr. Weller,โ replied Emma; โwe always have on Christmas Eve. Master wouldnโt neglect to keep it up on any account.โ
โYour masterโs a wery pretty notion of keeping anythinโ up, my dear,โ said Mr. Weller; โI never see such a sensible sort of man as he is, or such a regโlar genโlโmโn.โ
Oh, that he is!โ said the fat boy, joining in the conversation; โdonโt he breed nice pork!โ The fat youth gave a semi-cannibalic leer at Mr. Weller, as he thought of the roast legs and gravy.
โOh, youโve woke up, at last, have you?โ said Sam.
The fat boy nodded.
โIโll tell you what it is, young boa-constructer,โ said Mr. Weller impressively; โif you donโt sleep a little less, and exercise a little more, wen you comes to be a man youโll lay yourself open to the same sort of personal inconwenience as was inflicted on the old genโlโmโn as wore the pigtail.โ
โWhat did they do to him?โ inquired the fat boy, in a faltering voice.
โIโm a-going to tell you,โ replied Mr. Weller; โhe was one oโ the largest patterns as was ever turned outโregโlar fat man, as hadnโt caught a glimpse of his own shoes for five-and-forty year.โ
โLor!โ exclaimed Emma.
โNo, that he hadnโt, my dear,โ said Mr. Weller; โand if youโd put an exact model of his own legs on the dininโ-table afore him, he wouldnโt haโ known โem. Well, he always walks to his office with a wery handsome gold watch-chain hanging out, about a foot and a quarter, and a gold watch in his fob pocket as was worthโIโm afraid to say how much, but as much as a watch can beโa large, heavy, round manufacter, as stout for a watch, as he was for a man, and with a big face in proportion. โYouโd better not carry that โere watch,โ says the old genโlโmโnโs friends, โyouโll be robbed on it,โ says they. โShall I?โ says he. โYes, you will,โ says they. โWell,โ says he, โI should like to see the thief as could get this here watch out, for Iโm blessed if I ever can, itโs such a tight fit,โ says he, โand wenever I vants to know whatโs oโclock, Iโm obliged to stare into the bakersโ shops,โ he says. Well, then he laughs as hearty as if he was a-goinโ to pieces, and out he walks agin with his powdered head and pigtail, and rolls down the Strand with the chain hanginโ out furder than ever, and the great round watch almost bustinโ through his gray kersey smalls. There warnโt a pickpocket in all London as didnโt take a pull at that chain, but the chain โud never break, and the watch โud never come out, so they soon got tired of dragging such a heavy old genโlโmโn along the pavement, and heโd go home and laugh till the pigtail wibrated like the penderlum of a Dutch clock. At last, one day the old genโlโmโn was a-rollinโ along, and he sees a pickpocket as he knowโd by sight, a-coming up, arm in arm with a little boy with a wery large head. โHereโs a game,โ says the old genโlโmโn to himself, โtheyโre a-goinโ to have another try, but it wonโt do!โ So he begins a-chucklinโ wery hearty, wen, all of a sudden, the little boy leaves hold of the pickpocketโs arm, and rushes head foremost straight into the old genโlโmโnโs stomach, and for a moment doubles him right up with the pain. โMurder!โ says the old genโlโmโn. โAll right, Sir,โ says the pickpocket, a-wisperinโ in his ear. And wen he come straight agin, the watch and chain was gone, and whatโs worse than that, the old genโlโmโnโs digestion was all wrong ever afterwards, to the wery last day of his life; so just you look about you, young feller, and take care you donโt get too fat.โ
As Mr. Weller concluded this moral tale, with which the fat boy appeared much affected, they all three repaired to the large kitchen, in which the family were by this time assembled, according to annual custom on Christmas Eve, observed by old Wardleโs forefathers from time immemorial.
From the centre of the ceiling of this kitchen, old Wardle had just suspended, with his own hands, a huge branch of mistletoe, and this same branch of mistletoe instantaneously gave rise to a scene of general and most delightful struggling and confusion; in the midst of which, Mr. Pickwick, with a gallantry that would have done honour to a descendant of Lady Tollimglower herself, took the old lady by the hand, led her beneath the mystic branch, and saluted her in all courtesy and decorum. The old lady submitted to this piece of practical politeness with all the dignity which befitted so important and serious a solemnity, but the younger ladies, not being so thoroughly imbued with a superstitious veneration for the custom, or imagining that the value of a salute is very much enhanced if it cost a little trouble to obtain it, screamed and struggled, and ran into corners, and threatened and remonstrated, and did everything but leave the room, until some of the less adventurous gentlemen were on the point of desisting, when they all at once found it useless to resist any longer, and submitted to be kissed with a good grace. Mr. Winkle kissed the young lady with the black eyes, and Mr. Snodgrass kissed Emily; and Mr. Weller, not being particular about the form of being under the mistletoe, kissed Emma and the other female servants, just as he caught them. As to the poor relations, they kissed everybody, not even excepting the plainer portions of the young lady visitors, who, in their excessive confusion, ran right under the mistletoe, as soon as it was hung up, without knowing it! Wardle stood with his back to the fire, surveying the whole scene, with the utmost satisfaction; and the fat boy took the opportunity of appropriating to his own use, and summarily devouring, a particularly fine mince-pie, that had been carefully put by, for somebody else.
Now, the screaming had subsided, and faces were in a glow, and curls in a tangle, and Mr. Pickwick, after kissing the old lady as before mentioned, was standing under the mistletoe, looking with a very pleased countenance on all that was passing around him, when the young lady with the black eyes, after a little whispering with the other young ladies, made a sudden dart forward, and, putting her arm round Mr. Pickwickโs neck, saluted him affectionately on the left cheek; and before Mr. Pickwick distinctly knew what was the matter, he was surrounded by the whole body, and kissed by every one of them.
It was a pleasant thing to see Mr. Pickwick in the centre of the group, now pulled this way, and then that, and first kissed on the chin, and then on the nose, and then on the spectacles, and to hear the peals of laughter which were raised on every side; but it was a still more pleasant thing to see Mr. Pickwick, blinded shortly afterwards with a silk handkerchief, falling up against the wall, and scrambling into corners, and going through all the mysteries of blind-manโs buff, with the utmost relish for the game, until at last he caught one of the poor relations, and then had to evade the blind-man himself, which he did with a nimbleness and agility that elicited the admiration and applause of all beholders. The poor relations caught the people who they thought would like it, and, when the game flagged, got caught themselves. When they all tired of blind-manโs buff, there was a great game at snap-dragon, and when fingers enough were burned with that, and all the raisins were gone, they sat down by the huge fire of blazing logs to a substantial supper, and a mighty bowl of wassail, something smaller than an ordinary wash-house copper, in which the hot apples were hissing and bubbling with a rich look, and a jolly sound, that were perfectly irresistible.
โThis,โ said Mr. Pickwick, looking round him, โthis is, indeed, comfort.โ โOur invariable custom,โ replied Mr. Wardle. โEverybody sits down with us on Christmas Eve, as you see them nowโservants and all; and here we wait, until the clock strikes twelve, to usher Christmas in, and beguile the time with forfeits and old stories. Trundle, my boy, rake up the fire.โ
Up flew the bright sparks in myriads as the logs were stirred. The deep red blaze sent forth a rich glow, that penetrated into the farthest corner of the room, and cast its cheerful tint on every face.
โCome,โ said Wardle, โa songโa Christmas song! Iโll give you one, in default of a better.โ
โBravo!โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โFill up,โ cried Wardle. โIt will be two hours, good, before you see the bottom of the bowl through the deep rich colour of the wassail; fill up all round, and now for the song.โ
Thus saying, the merry old gentleman, in a good, round, sturdy voice, commenced without more adoโ
A CHRISTMAS CAROL
โI care not for Spring; on his fickle wing
Let the blossoms and buds be borne;
He woos them amain with his treacherous rain,
And he scatters them ere the morn.
An inconstant elf, he knows not himself,
Nor his own changing mind an hour,
Heโll smile in your face, and, with wry grimace,
Heโll wither your youngest flower.
โLet the Summer sun to his bright home run,
He shall never be sought by me;
When heโs dimmed by a cloud I can laugh aloud
And care not how sulky he be!
For his darling child is the madness wild
That sports in fierce feverโs train;
And when love is too strong, it donโt last long,
As many have found to their pain.
โA mild harvest night, by the tranquil light
Of the modest and gentle moon,
Has a far sweeter sheen for me, I ween,
Than the broad and unblushing noon.
But every leaf awakens my grief,
As it lieth beneath the tree;
So let Autumn air be never so fair,
It by no means agrees with me.
โBut my song I troll out, for Christmas Stout,
The hearty, the true, and the bold;
A bumper I drain, and with might and main
Give three cheers for this Christmas old!
Weโll usher him in with a merry din
That shall gladden his joyous heart,
And weโll keep him up, while thereโs bite or sup,
And in fellowship good, weโll part.
โIn his fine honest pride, he scorns to hide
One jot of his hard-weather scars;
Theyโre no disgrace, for thereโs much the same trace
On the cheeks of our bravest tars.
Then again I sing till the roof doth ring
And it echoes from wall to wallโ
To the stout old wight, fair welcome to-night,
As the King of the Seasons all!โ
This song was tumultuously applaudedโfor friends and dependents make a capital audienceโand the poor relations, especially, were in perfect ecstasies of rapture. Again was the fire replenished, and again went the wassail round.
โHow it snows!โ said one of the men, in a low tone.
โSnows, does it?โ said Wardle.
โRough, cold night, Sir,โ replied the man; โand thereโs a wind got up, that drifts it across the fields, in a thick white cloud.โ
โWhat does Jem say?โ inquired the old lady. โThere ainโt anything the matter, is there?โ
โNo, no, mother,โ replied Wardle; โhe says thereโs a snowdrift, and a wind thatโs piercing cold. I should know that, by the way it rumbles in the chimney.โ
โAh!โ said the old lady, โthere was just such a wind, and just such a fall of snow, a good many years back, I recollectโjust five years before your poor father died. It was a Christmas Eve, too; and I remember that on that very night he told us the story about the goblins that carried away old Gabriel Grub.โ
โThe story about what?โ said Mr. Pickwick.
โOh, nothing, nothing,โ replied Wardle. โAbout an old sexton, that the good people down here suppose to have been carried away by goblins.โ
โSuppose!โ ejaculated the old lady. โIs there anybody hardy enough to disbelieve it? Suppose! Havenโt you heard ever since you were a child, that he was carried away by the goblins, and donโt you know he was?โ
โVery well, mother, he was, if you like,โ said Wardle laughing. โHe was carried away by goblins, Pickwick; and thereโs an end of the matter.โ
โNo, no,โ said Mr. Pickwick, โnot an end of it, I assure you; for I must hear how, and why, and all about it.โ
Wardle smiled, as every head was bent forward to hear, and filling out the wassail with no stinted hand, nodded a health to Mr. Pickwick, and began as followsโ
But bless our editorial heart, what a long chapter we have been betrayed into! We had quite forgotten all such petty restrictions as chapters, we solemnly declare. So here goes, to give the goblin a fair start in a new one. A clear stage and no favour for the goblins, ladies and gentlemen, if you please.