SOME ACCOUNT OF EATANSWILL; OF THESTATE OF PARTIES THEREIN; AND OF THEELECTION OF A MEMBER TO SERVE INPARLIAMENT FOR THAT ANCIENT, LOYAL,AND PATRIOTIC BOROUGHe will frankly acknowledge that, up to the period of ourbeing first immersed in the voluminous papers of thePickwick Club, we had never heard of Eatanswill; wewill with equal candour admit that we have in vain searched forproof of the actual existence of such a place at the present day.

　　Knowing the deep reliance to be placed on every note andstatement of Mr. Pickwick’s, and not presuming to set up ourrecollection against the recorded declarations of that great man,we have consulted every authority, bearing upon the subject, towhich we could possibly refer. We have traced every name inschedules A and B, without meeting with that of Eatanswill; wehave minutely examined every corner of the pocket county mapsissued for the benefit of society by our distinguished publishers,and the same result has attended our investigation. We aretherefore led to believe that Mr. Pickwick, with that anxious desireto abstain from giving offence to any, and with those delicatefeelings for which all who knew him well know he was soeminently remarkable, purposely substituted a fictitiousdesignation, for the real name of the place in which hisobservations were made. We are confirmed in this belief by a littlecircumstance, apparently slight and trivial in itself, but whenconsidered in this point of view, not undeserving of notice. In Mr.

　　Pickwick’s note-book, we can just trace an entry of the fact, thatthe places of himself and followers were booked by the Norwichcoach; but this entry was afterwards lined through, as if for thepurpose of concealing even the direction in which the borough issituated. We will not, therefore, hazard a guess upon the subject,but will at once proceed with this history, content with thematerials which its characters have provided for us.

　　It appears, then, that the Eatanswill people, like the people ofmany other small towns, considered themselves of the utmost andmost mighty importance, and that every man in Eatanswill,conscious of the weight that attached to his example, felt himselfbound to unite, heart and soul, with one of the two great partiesthat divided the town―the Blues and the Buffs. Now the Blueslost no opportunity of opposing the Buffs, and the Buffs lost noopportunity of opposing the Blues; and the consequence was, thatwhenever the Buffs and Blues met together at public meeting,town-hall, fair, or market, disputes and high words arose betweenthem. With these dissensions it is almost superfluous to say thateverything in Eatanswill was made a party question. If the Buffsproposed to new skylight the market-place, the Blues got uppublic meetings, and denounced the proceeding; if the Bluesproposed the erection of an additional pump in the High Street,the Buffs rose as one man and stood aghast at the enormity. Therewere Blue shops and Buff shops, Blue inns and Buff inns―therewas a Blue aisle and a Buff aisle in the very church itself.

　　Of course it was essentially and indispensably necessary thateach of these powerful parties should have its chosen organ andrepresentative: and, accordingly, there were two newspapers inthe town―the Eatanswill Gazette and the EatanswillIndependent; the former advocating Blue principles, and the latterconducted on grounds decidedly Buff. Fine newspapers they were.

　　Such leading articles, and such spirited attacks!―‘Our worthlesscontemporary, the Gazette’―‘That disgraceful and dastardlyjournal, the Independent’―‘That false and scurrilous print, theIndependent’―‘That vile and slanderous calumniator, theGazette;’ these, and other spirit-stirring denunciations, werestrewn plentifully over the columns of each, in every number, andexcited feelings of the most intense delight and indignation in thebosoms of the townspeople.

　　Mr. Pickwick, with his usual foresight and sagacity, had chosena peculiarly desirable moment for his visit to the borough. Neverwas such a contest known. The Honourable Samuel Slumkey, ofSlumkey Hall, was the Blue candidate; and Horatio Fizkin, Esq., ofFizkin Lodge, near Eatanswill, had been prevailed upon by hisfriends to stand forward on the Buff interest. The Gazette warnedthe electors of Eatanswill that the eyes not only of England, but ofthe whole civilised world, were upon them; and the Independentimperatively demanded to know, whether the constituency ofEatanswill were the grand fellows they had always taken them for,or base and servile tools, undeserving alike of the name ofEnglishmen and the blessings of freedom. Never had such acommotion agitated the town before.

　　It was late in the evening when Mr. Pickwick and hiscompanions, assisted by Sam, dismounted from the roof of theEatanswill coach. Large blue silk flags were flying from thewindows of the Town Arms Inn, and bills were posted in everysash, intimating, in gigantic letters, that the Honourable SamuelSlumkey’s committee sat there daily. A crowd of idlers wereassembled in the road, looking at a hoarse man in the balcony,who was apparently talking himself very red in the face in Mr.

　　Slumkey’s behalf; but the force and point of whose argumentswere somewhat impaired by the perpetual beating of four largedrums which Mr. Fizkin’s committee had stationed at the streetcorner. There was a busy little man beside him, though, who tookoff his hat at intervals and motioned to the people to cheer, whichthey regularly did, most enthusiastically; and as the red-facedgentleman went on talking till he was redder in the face than ever,it seemed to answer his purpose quite as well as if anybody hadheard him.

　　The Pickwickians had no sooner dismounted than they weresurrounded by a branch mob of the honest and independent, whoforthwith set up three deafening cheers, which being responded toby the main body (for it’s not at all necessary for a crowd to knowwhat they are cheering about), swelled into a tremendous roar oftriumph, which stopped even the red-faced man in the balcony.

　　‘Hurrah!’ shouted the mob, in conclusion.

　　‘One cheer more,’ screamed the little fugleman in the balcony,and out shouted the mob again, as if lungs were cast-iron, withsteel works.

　　‘Slumkey for ever!’ roared the honest and independent.

　　‘Slumkey for ever!’ echoed Mr. Pickwick, taking off his hat. ‘NoFizkin!’ roared the crowd.

　　‘Certainly not!’ shouted Mr. Pickwick. ‘Hurrah!’ And then therewas another roaring, like that of a whole menagerie when theelephant has rung the bell for the cold meat.

　　‘Who is Slumkey?’ whispered Mr. Tupman.

　　‘I don’t know,’ replied Mr. Pickwick, in the same tone. ‘Hush.

　　Don’t ask any questions. It’s always best on these occasions to dowhat the mob do.’

　　‘But suppose there are two mobs?’ suggested Mr. Snodgrass.

　　‘Shout with the largest,’ replied Mr. Pickwick.

　　Volumes could not have said more.

　　They entered the house, the crowd opening right and left to letthem pass, and cheering vociferously. The first object ofconsideration was to secure quarters for the night.

　　‘Can we have beds here?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick, summoningthe waiter.

　　‘Don’t know, sir,’ replied the man; ‘afraid we’re full, sir―I’llinquire, sir.’ Away he went for that purpose, and presentlyreturned, to ask whether the gentleman were ‘Blue.’

　　As neither Mr. Pickwick nor his companions took any vitalinterest in the cause of either candidate, the question was rather adifficult one to answer. In this dilemma Mr. Pickwick bethoughthimself of his new friend, Mr. Perker.

　　‘Do you know a gentleman of the name of Perker?’ inquired Mr.

　　Pickwick.

　　‘Certainly, sir; Honourable Mr. Samuel Slumkey’s agent.’

　　‘He is Blue, I think?’

　　‘Oh, yes, sir.’

　　‘Then we are Blue,’ said Mr. Pickwick; but observing that theman looked rather doubtful at this accommodatingannouncement, he gave him his card, and desired him to presentit to Mr. Perker forthwith, if he should happen to be in the house.

　　The waiter retired; and reappearing almost immediately with arequest that Mr. Pickwick would follow him, led the way to a largeroom on the first floor, where, seated at a long table covered withbooks and papers, was Mr. Perker.

　　‘Ah―ah, my dear sir,’ said the little man, advancing to meethim; ‘very happy to see you, my dear sir, very. Pray sit down. Soyou have carried your intention into effect. You have come downhere to see an election―eh?’ Mr. Pickwick replied in theaffirmative.

　　‘Spirited contest, my dear sir,’ said the little man.

　　‘I’m delighted to hear it,’ said Mr. Pickwick, rubbing his hands.

　　‘I like to see sturdy patriotism, on whatever side it is called forth―and so it’s a spirited contest?’

　　‘Oh, yes,’ said the little man, ‘very much so indeed. We haveopened all the public-houses in the place, and left our adversarynothing but the beer-shops-masterly stroke of policy that, my dearsir, eh?’ The little man smiled complacently, and took a largepinch of snuff.

　　‘And what are the probabilities as to the result of the contest?’

　　inquired Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘Why, doubtful, my dear sir; rather doubtful as yet,’ replied thelittle man. ‘Fizkin’s people have got three-and-thirty voters in thelock-up coach-house at the White Hart.’

　　‘In the coach-house!’ said Mr. Pickwick, considerablyastonished by this second stroke of policy.

　　‘They keep ’em locked up there till they want ’em,’ resumed thelittle man. ‘The effect of that is, you see, to prevent our getting atthem; and even if we could, it would be of no use, for they keepthem very drunk on purpose. Smart fellow Fizkin’s agent―verysmart fellow indeed.’

　　Mr. Pickwick stared, but said nothing.

　　‘We are pretty confident, though,’ said Mr. Perker, sinking hisvoice almost to a whisper. ‘We had a little tea-party here, lastnight―five-and-forty women, my dear sir―and gave every one of’em a green parasol when she went away.’

　　‘A parasol!’ said Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘Fact, my dear sir, fact. Five-and-forty green parasols, at sevenand sixpence a-piece. All women like finery―extraordinary theeffect of those parasols. Secured all their husbands, and half theirbrothers―beats stockings, and flannel, and all that sort of thinghollow. My idea, my dear sir, entirely. Hail, rain, or sunshine, youcan’t walk half a dozen yards up the street, without encounteringhalf a dozen green parasols.’

　　Here the little man indulged in a convulsion of mirth, whichwas only checked by the entrance of a third party.

　　This was a tall, thin man, with a sandy-coloured head inclinedto baldness, and a face in which solemn importance was blendedwith a look of unfathomable profundity. He was dressed in a longbrown surtout, with a black cloth waistcoat, and drab trousers. Adouble eyeglass dangled at his waistcoat; and on his head he worea very low-crowned hat with a broad brim. The new-comer wasintroduced to Mr. Pickwick as Mr. Pott, the editor of theEatanswill Gazette. After a few preliminary remarks, Mr. Pottturned round to Mr. Pickwick, and said with solemnity―‘This contest excites great interest in the metropolis, sir?’

　　‘I believe it does,’ said Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘To which I have reason to know,’ said Pott, looking towardsMr. Perker for corroboration―‘to which I have reason to knowthat my article of last Saturday in some degree contributed.’

　　‘Not the least doubt of it,’ said the little man.

　　‘The press is a mighty engine, sir,’ said Pott.

　　Mr. Pickwick yielded his fullest assent to the proposition.

　　‘But I trust, sir,’ said Pott, ‘that I have never abused theenormous power I wield. I trust, sir, that I have never pointed thenoble instrument which is placed in my hands, against the sacredbosom of private life, or the tender breast of individual reputation;I trust, sir, that I have devoted my energies to―to endeavours―humble they may be, humble I know they are―to instil thoseprinciples of―which―are―’

　　Here the editor of the Eatanswill Gazette, appearing to ramble,Mr. Pickwick came to his relief, and said―‘Certainly.’

　　‘And what, sir,’ said Pott―‘what, sir, let me ask you as animpartial man, is the state of the public mind in London, withreference to my contest with the Independent?’

　　‘Greatly excited, no doubt,’ interposed Mr. Perker, with a lookof slyness which was very likely accidental.

　　‘The contest,’ said Pott, ‘shall be prolonged so long as I havehealth and strength, and that portion of talent with which I amgifted. From that contest, sir, although it may unsettle men’sminds and excite their feelings, and render them incapable for thedischarge of the everyday duties of ordinary life; from that contest,sir, I will never shrink, till I have set my heel upon the EatanswillIndependent. I wish the people of London, and the people of thiscountry to know, sir, that they may rely upon me―that I will notdesert them, that I am resolved to stand by them, sir, to the last.’

　　‘Your conduct is most noble, sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick; and hegrasped the hand of the magnanimous Pott. ‘You are, sir, Iperceive, a man of sense and talent,’ said Mr. Pott, almostbreathless with the vehemence of his patriotic declaration. ‘I ammost happy, sir, to make the acquaintance of such a man.’

　　‘And I,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘feel deeply honoured by thisexpression of your opinion. Allow me, sir, to introduce you to myfellow-travellers, the other corresponding members of the club Iam proud to have founded.’

　　‘I shall be delighted,’ said Mr. Pott.

　　Mr. Pickwick withdrew, and returning with his friends,presented them in due form to the editor of the EatanswillGazette.

　　‘Now, my dear Pott,’ said little Mr. Perker, ‘the question is,what are we to do with our friends here?’

　　‘We can stop in this house, I suppose,’ said Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘Not a spare bed in the house, my dear sir―not a single bed.’

　　‘Extremely awkward,’ said Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘Very,’ said his fellow-voyagers.

　　‘I have an idea upon this subject,’ said Mr. Pott, ‘which I thinkmay be very successfully adopted. They have two beds at thePeacock, and I can boldly say, on behalf of Mrs. Pott, that she willbe delighted to accommodate Mr. Pickwick and any one of hisfriends, if the other two gentlemen and their servant do not objectto shifting, as they best can, at the Peacock.’

　　After repeated pressings on the part of Mr. Pott, and repeatedprotestations on that of Mr. Pickwick that he could not think ofincommoding or troubling his amiable wife, it was decided that itwas the only feasible arrangement that could be made. So it wasmade; and after dinner together at the Town Arms, the friendsseparated, Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass repairing to thePeacock, and Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Winkle proceeding to themansion of Mr. Pott; it having been previously arranged that theyshould all reassemble at the Town Arms in the morning, andaccompany the Honourable Samuel Slumkey’s procession to theplace of nomination.

　　Mr. Pott’s domestic circle was limited to himself and his wife.

　　All men whom mighty genius has raised to a proud eminence inthe world, have usually some little weakness which appears themore conspicuous from the contrast it presents to their generalcharacter. If Mr. Pott had a weakness, it was, perhaps, that he wasrather too submissive to the somewhat contemptuous control andsway of his wife. We do not feel justified in laying any particularstress upon the fact, because on the present occasion all Mrs.

　　Pott’s most winning ways were brought into requisition to receivethe two gentlemen.

　　‘My dear,’ said Mr. Pott, ‘Mr. Pickwick―Mr. Pickwick ofLondon.’

　　Mrs. Pott received Mr. Pickwick’s paternal grasp of the handwith enchanting sweetness; and Mr. Winkle, who had not beenannounced at all, sidled and bowed, unnoticed, in an obscurecorner.

　　‘P. my dear’―said Mrs. Pott.

　　‘My life,’ said Mr. Pott.

　　‘Pray introduce the other gentleman.’

　　‘I beg a thousand pardons,’ said Mr. Pott. ‘Permit me, Mrs. Pott,Mr.―’

　　‘Winkle,’ said Mr. Pickwick.

　　‘Winkle,’ echoed Mr. Pott; and the ceremony of introductionwas complete.

　　‘We owe you many apologies, ma’am,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘fordisturbing your domestic arrangements at so short a notice.’

　　‘I beg you won’t mention it, sir,’ replied the feminine Pott, withvivacity. ‘It is a high treat to me, I assure you, to see any new faces;living as I do, from day to day, and week to week, in this dull place,and seeing nobody.’

　　‘Nobody, my dear!’ exclaimed Mr. Pott archly.

　　‘Nobody but you,’ retorted Mrs. Pott, with asperity.

　　‘You see, Mr. Pickwick,’ said the host in explanation of hiswife’s lament, ‘that we are in some measure cut off from manyenjoyments and pleasures of which we might otherwise partake.

　　My public station, as editor of the Eatanswill Gazette, the positionwhich that paper holds in the country, my constant immersion inthe vortex of politics―’

　　‘P. my dear―’ interposed Mrs. Pott.

　　‘My life―’ said the editor.

　　‘I wish, my dear, you would endeavour to find some topic ofconversation in which these gentlemen might take some rationalinterest.’

　　‘But, my love,’ said Mr. Pott, with great humility, ‘Mr. Pickwickdoes take an interest in it.’

　　‘It’s well for him if he can,’ said Mrs. Pott emphatically; ‘I amwearied out of my life with your politics, and quarrels with theIndependent, and nonsense. I am quite astonished, P., at yourmaking such an exhibition of your absurdity.’

　　‘But, my dear―’ said Mr. Pott.

　　‘Oh, nonsense, don’t talk to me,’ said Mrs. Pott. ‘Do you playecarté, sir?’

　　‘I shall be very happy to learn under your tuition,’ replied Mr.

　　Winkle.

　　‘Well, then, draw that little table into this window, and let meget out of hearing of those prosy politics.’

　　‘Jane,’ said Mr. Pott, to the servant who brought in candles, ‘godown into the office, and bring me up the file of the Gazette foreighteen hundred and twenty-six. I’ll read you,’ added the editor,turning to Mr. Pickwick―‘I’ll just read you a few of the leaders Iwrote at that time upon the Buff job of appointing a new tollmanto the turnpike here; I rather think they’ll amuse you.’

　　‘I should like to hear them very much indeed,’ said Mr.

　　Pickwick.

　　Up came the file, and down sat the editor, with Mr. Pickwick athis side.

　　We have in vain pored over the leaves of Mr. Pickwick’s note-book, in the hope of meeting with a general summary of thesebeautiful compositions. We have every reason to believe that hewas perfectly enraptured with the vigour and freshness of thestyle; indeed Mr. Winkle has recorded the fact that his eyes wereclosed, as if with excess of pleasure, during the whole time of theirperusal.

　　The announcement of supper put a stop both to the game ofecarté, and the recapitulation of the beauties of the EatanswillGazette. Mrs. Pott was in the highest spirits and the mostagreeable humour. Mr. Winkle had already made considerableprogress in her good opinion, and she did not hesitate to informhim, confidentially, that Mr. Pickwick was ‘a delightful old dear.’

　　These terms convey a familiarity of expression, in which few ofthose who were intimately acquainted with that colossal-mindedman, would have presumed to indulge. We have preserved them,nevertheless, as affording at once a touching and a convincingproof of the estimation in which he was held by every class ofsociety, and the case with which he made his way to their heartsand feelings.

　　It was a late hour of the night―long after Mr. Tupman and Mr.

　　Snodgrass had fallen asleep in the inmost recesses of thePeacock―when the two friends retired to rest. Slumber soon fellupon the senses of Mr. Winkle, but his feelings had been excited,and his admiration roused; and for many hours after sleep hadrendered him insensible to earthly objects, the face and figure ofthe agreeable Mrs. Pott presented themselves again and again tohis wandering imagination.

　　The noise and bustle which ushered in the morning weresufficient to dispel from the mind of the most romantic visionaryin existence, any associations but those which were immediatelyconnected with the rapidly-approaching election. The beating ofdrums, the blowing of horns and trumpets, the shouting of men,and tramping of horses, echoed and re―echoed through thestreets from the earliest dawn of day; and an occasional fightbetween the light skirmishers of either party at once enlivened thepreparations, ............