BRIEFLY ILLUSTRATIVE OF TWO POINTS;FIRST, THE POWER OF HYSTERICS, AND,SECONDLY, THE FORCE OF CIRCUMSTANCEsor two days after the breakfast at Mrs. Hunter’s, thePickwickians remained at Eatanswill, anxiously awaitingthe arrival of some intelligence from their revered leader.
Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass were once again left to their ownmeans of amusement; for Mr. Winkle, in compliance with a mostpressing invitation, continued to reside at Mr. Pott’s house, and todevote his time to the companionship of his amiable lady. Nor wasthe occasional society of Mr. Pott himself wanting to completetheir felicity. Deeply immersed in the intensity of his speculationsfor the public weal and the destruction of the Independent, it wasnot the habit of that great man to descend from his mentalpinnacle to the humble level of ordinary minds. On this occasion,however, and as if expressly in compliment to any follower of Mr.
Pickwick’s, he unbent, relaxed, stepped down from his pedestal,and walked upon the ground, benignly adapting his remarks to thecomprehension of the herd, and seeming in outward form, if not inspirit, to be one of them.
Such having been the demeanour of this celebrated publiccharacter towards Mr. Winkle, it will be readily imagined thatconsiderable surprise was depicted on the countenance of thelatter gentleman, when, as he was sitting alone in the breakfast-room, the door was hastily thrown open, and as hastily closed, onthe entrance of Mr. Pott, who, stalking majestically towards him,and thrusting aside his proffered hand, ground his teeth, as if toput a sharper edge on what he was about to utter, and exclaimed,in a saw-like voice―‘Serpent!’
‘Sir!’ exclaimed Mr. Winkle, starting from his chair.
‘Serpent, sir,’ repeated Mr. Pott, raising his voice, and thensuddenly depressing it: ‘I said, serpent, sir―make the most of it.’
When you have parted with a man at two o’clock in themorning, on terms of the utmost good-fellowship, and he meetsyou again, at half-past nine, and greets you as a serpent, it is notunreasonable to conclude that something of an unpleasant naturehas occurred meanwhile. So Mr. Winkle thought. He returned Mr.
Pott’s gaze of stone, and in compliance with that gentleman’srequest, proceeded to make the most he could of the ‘serpent.’ Themost, however, was nothing at all; so, after a profound silence ofsome minutes’ duration, he said,―‘Serpent, sir! Serpent, Mr. Pott! What can you mean, sir?―thisis pleasantry.’
‘Pleasantry, sir!’ exclaimed Pott, with a motion of the hand,indicative of a strong desire to hurl the Britannia metal teapot atthe head of the visitor. ‘Pleasantry, sir!―But―no, I will be calm; Iwill be calm, sir;’ in proof of his calmness, Mr. Pott flung himselfinto a chair, and foamed at the mouth.
‘My dear sir,’ interposed Mr. Winkle.
‘Dear sir!’ replied Pott. ‘How dare you address me, as dear sir,sir? How dare you look me in the face and do it, sir?’
‘Well, sir, if you come to that,’ responded Mr. Winkle, ‘how dareyou look me in the face, and call me a serpent, sir?’
‘Because you are one,’ replied Mr. Pott.
‘Prove it, sir,’ said Mr. Winkle warmly. ‘Prove it.’
A malignant scowl passed over the profound face of the editor,as he drew from his pocket the Independent of that morning; andlaying his finger on a particular paragraph, threw the journalacross the table to Mr. Winkle.
That gentleman took it up, and read as follows:―‘Our obscure and filthy contemporary, in some disgustingobservations on the recent election for this borough, haspresumed to violate the hallowed sanctity of private life, and torefer, in a manner not to be misunderstood, to the personal affairsof our late candidate―aye, and notwithstanding his base defeat,we will add, our future member, Mr. Fizkin. What does ourdastardly contemporary mean? What would the ruffian say, if we,setting at naught, like him, the decencies of social intercourse,were to raise the curtain which happily conceals His private lifefrom general ridicule, not to say from general execration? What, ifwe were even to point out, and comment on, facts andcircumstances, which are publicly notorious, and beheld by everyone but our mole-eyed contemporary―what if we were to printthe following effusion, which we received while we were writingthe commencement of this article, from a talented fellow-townsman and correspondent?
‘“LINES TO A BRASS POT‘“Oh Pott! if you’d knownHow false she’d have grown,When you heard the marriage bells tinkle;You have done then, I vow,What you cannot help now,And handed her over to W*****”’
‘What,’ said Mr. Pott solemnly―‘what rhymes to “tinkle,”
villain?’
‘What rhymes to tinkle?’ said Mrs. Pott, whose entrance at themoment forestalled the reply. ‘What rhymes to tinkle? Why,Winkle, I should conceive.’ Saying this, Mrs. Pott smiled sweetlyon the disturbed Pickwickian, and extended her hand towardshim. The agitated young man would have accepted it, in hisconfusion, had not Pott indignantly interposed.
‘Back, ma’am―back!’ said the editor. ‘Take his hand before myvery face!’
‘Mr. P.!’ said his astonished lady.
‘Wretched woman, look here,’ exclaimed the husband. ‘Lookhere, ma’am―“Lines to a Brass Pot.” “Brass Pot”; that’s me,ma’am. “False she’d have grown”; that’s you, ma’am―you.’ Withthis ebullition of rage, which was not unaccompanied withsomething like a tremble, at the expression of his wife’s face, Mr.
Pott dashed the current number of the Eatanswill Independent ather feet.
‘Upon my word, sir,’ said the astonished Mrs. Pott, stooping topick up the paper. ‘Upon my word, sir!’
Mr. Pott winced beneath the contemptuous gaze of his wife. Hehad made a desperate struggle to screw up his courage, but it wasfast coming unscrewed again.
There appears nothing very tremendous in this little sentence,‘Upon my word, sir,’ when it comes to be read; but the tone ofvoice in which it was delivered, and the look that accompanied it,both seeming to bear reference to some revenge to be thereaftervisited upon the head of Pott, produced their effect upon him. Themost unskilful observer could have detected in his troubledcountenance, a readiness to resign his Wellington boots to anyefficient substitute who would have consented to stand in them atthat moment.
Mrs. Pott read the paragraph, uttered a loud shriek, and threwherself at full length on the hearth-rug, screaming, and tapping itwith the heels of her shoes, in a manner which could leave nodoubt of the propriety of her feelings on the occasion.
‘My dear,’ said the terrified Pott, ‘I didn’t say I believed it;―I―’
but the unfortunate man’s voice was drowned in the screaming ofhis partner.
‘Mrs. Pott, let me entreat you, my dear ma’am, to composeyourself,’ said Mr. Winkle; but the shrieks and tappings werelouder, and more frequent than ever.
‘My dear,’ said Mr. Pott, ‘I’m very sorry. If you won’t consideryour own health, consider me, my dear. We shall have a crowdround the house.’ But the more strenuously Mr. Pott entreated,the more vehemently the screams poured forth.
Very fortunately, however, attached to Mrs. Pott’s person was abodyguard of one, a young lady whose ostensible employment wasto preside over her toilet, but who rendered herself useful in avariety of ways, and in none more so than in the particulardepartment of constantly aiding and abetting her mistress in everywish and inclination opposed to the desires of the unhappy Pott.
The screams reached this young lady’s ears in due course, andbrought her into the room with a speed which threatened toderange, materially, the very exquisite arrangement of her capand ringlets.
‘Oh, my dear, dear mistress!’ exclaimed the bodyguard,kneeling frantically by the side of the prostrate Mrs. Pott. ‘Oh, mydear mistress, what is the matter?’
‘Your master―your brutal master,’ murmured the patient.
Pott was evidently giving way.
‘It’s a shame,’ said the bodyguard reproachfully. ‘I know he’ll bethe death on you, ma’am. Poor dear thing!’
He gave way more. The opposite party followed up the attack.
‘Oh, don’t leave me―don’t leave me, Goodwin,’ murmured Mrs.
Pott, clutching at the wrist of the said Goodwin with an hystericjerk. ‘You’re the only person that’s kind to me, Goodwin.’
At this affecting appeal, Goodwin got up a little domestictragedy of her own, and shed tears copiously.
‘Never, ma’am―never,’ said Goodwin.’Oh, sir, you should becareful―you should indeed; you don’t know what harm you maydo missis; you’ll be sorry for it one day, I know―I’ve always saidso.’
The unlucky Pott looked timidly on, but said nothing.
‘Goodwin,’ said Mrs. Pott, in a soft voice.
‘Ma’am,’ said Goodwin.
‘If you only knew how I have loved that man―’
‘Don’t distress yourself by recollecting it, ma’am,’ said thebodyguard.
Pott looked very frightened. It was time to finish him.
‘And now,’ sobbed Mrs. Pott, ‘now, after all, to be treated in thisway; to be reproached and insulted in the presence of a thirdparty, and that party almost a stranger. But I will not submit to it!
Goodwin,’ continued Mrs. Pott, raising herself in the arms of herattendant, ‘my brother, the lieutenant, shall interfere. I’ll beseparated, Goodwin!’
‘It would certainly serve him right, ma’am,’ said Goodwin.
Whatever thoughts the threat of a separation might haveawakened in Mr. Pott’s mind, he forbore to give utterance to them,and contented himself by saying, with great humility:―‘My dear, will you hear me?’
A fresh train of sobs was the only reply, as Mrs. Pott grew morehysterical, requested to be informed why she was ever born, andrequired sundry other pieces of information of a similardescription.
‘My dear,’ remonstrated Mr. Pott, ‘do not give way to thesesensitive feelings. I never believed that the paragraph had anyfoundation, my dear―impossible. I was only angry, my dear―Imay say outrageous―with the Independent people for daring toinsert it; that’s all.’ Mr. Pott cast an imploring look at the innocentcause of the mischief, as if to entreat him to say nothing about theserpent.
‘And what steps, sir, do you mean to take to obtain redress?’
inquired Mr. Winkle, gaining courage as he saw Pott losing it.
‘Oh, Goodwin,’ observed Mrs. Pott, ‘does he mean to horsewhipthe editor of the Independent―does he, Goodwin?’
‘Hush, hush, ma’am; pray keep yourself quiet,’ replied thebodyguard. ‘I dare say he will, if you wish it, ma’am.’
‘Certainly,’ said Pott, as his wife evinced decided symptoms ofgoing off again. ‘Of course I shall.’
‘When, Goodwin―when?’ said Mrs. Pott, still undecided aboutthe going off.
‘Immediately, of course,’ said Mr. Pott; ‘before the day is out.’
‘Oh, Goodwin,’ resumed Mrs. Pott, ‘it’s the only way of meetingthe slander, and setting me right with the world.’
‘Certainly, ma’am,’ replied Goodwin. ‘No man as is a man,ma’am, could refuse to do it.’
So, as the hysterics were still hovering about, Mr. Pott said oncemore that he would do it; but Mrs. Pott was so overcome at thebare idea of having............