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CHAPTER IV - THE CLOCK
As we were going up-stairs, Mr. Pickwick put on his spectacles,
which he had held in his hand hitherto; arranged his neckerchief,
smoothed down his waistcoat, and made many other little
preparations of that kind which men are accustomed to be mindful
of, when they are going among strangers for the first time, and are
anxious to impress them pleasantly. Seeing that I smiled, he
smiled too, and said that if it had occurred to him before he left
home, he would certainly have presented himself in pumps and silk
stockings.
'I would, indeed, my dear sir,' he said very seriously; 'I would
have shown my respect for the society, by laying aside my gaiters.'
'You may rest assured,' said I, 'that they would have regretted
your doing so very much, for they are quite attached to them.'
'No, really!' cried Mr. Pickwick, with manifest pleasure. 'Do you
think they care about my gaiters? Do you seriously think that they
identify me at all with my gaiters?'
'I am sure they do,' I replied.
'Well, now,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'that is one of the most charming
and agreeable circumstances that could possibly have occurred to
me!'
I should not have written down this short conversation, but that it
developed a slight point in Mr. Pickwick's character, with which I
was not previously acquainted. He has a secret pride in his legs.
The manner in which he spoke, and the accompanying glance he
bestowed upon his tights, convince me that Mr. Pickwick regards his
legs with much innocent vanity.
'But here are our friends,' said I, opening the door and taking his
arm in mine; 'let them speak for themselves. - Gentlemen, I present
to you Mr. Pickwick.'
Mr. Pickwick and I must have been a good contrast just then. I,
leaning quietly on my crutch-stick, with something of a care-worn,
patient air; he, having hold of my arm, and bowing in every
direction with the most elastic politeness, and an expression of
face whose sprightly cheerfulness and good-humour knew no bounds.
The difference between us must have been more striking yet, as we
advanced towards the table, and the amiable gentleman, adapting his
jocund step to my poor tread, had his attention divided between
treating my infirmities with the utmost consideration, and
affecting to be wholly unconscious that I required any.
I made him personally known to each of my friends in turn. First,
to the deaf gentleman, whom he regarded with much interest, and
accosted with great frankness and cordiality. He had evidently
some vague idea, at the moment, that my friend being deaf must be
dumb also; for when the latter opened his lips to express the
pleasure it afforded him to know a gentleman of whom he had heard
so much, Mr. Pickwick was so extremely disconcerted, that I was
obliged to step in to his relief.
His meeting with Jack Redburn was quite a treat to see. Mr.
Pickwick smiled, and shook hands, and looked at him through his
spectacles, and under them, and over them, and nodded his head
approvingly, and then nodded to me, as much as to say, 'This is
just the man; you were quite right;' and then turned to Jack and
said a few hearty words, and then did and said everything over
again with unimpaired vivacity. As to Jack himself, he was quite
as much delighted with Mr. Pickwick as Mr. Pickwick could possibly
be with him. Two people never can have met together since the
world began, who exchanged a warmer or more enthusiastic greeting.
It was amusing to observe the difference between this encounter and
that which succeeded, between Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Miles. It was
clear that the latter gentleman viewed our new member as a kind of
rival in the affections of Jack Redburn, and besides this, he had
more than once hinted to me, in secret, that although he had no
doubt Mr. Pickwick was a very worthy man, still he did consider
that some of his exploits were unbecoming a gentleman of his years
and gravity. Over and above these grounds of distrust, it is one
of his fixed opinions, that the law never can by possibility do
anything wrong; he therefore looks upon Mr. Pickwick as one who has
justly suffered in purse and peace for a breach of his plighted
faith to an unprotected female, and holds that he is called upon to
regard him with some suspicion on that account. These causes led
to a rather cold and formal reception; which Mr. Pickwick
acknowledged with the same stateliness and intense politeness as
was displayed on the other side. Indeed, he assumed an air of such
majestic defiance, that I was fearful he might break out into some
solemn protest or declaration, and therefore inducted him into his
chair without a moment's delay.
This piece of generalship was perfectly successful. The instant he
took his seat, Mr. Pickwick surveyed us all with a most benevolent
aspect, and was taken with a fit of smiling full five minutes long.
His interest in our ceremonies was immense. They are not very
numerous or complicated, and a description of them may be comprised
in very few words. As our transactions have already been, and must
necessarily continue to be, more or less anticipated by being
presented in these pages at different times, and under various
forms, they do not require a detailed account.
Our first proceeding when we are assembled is to shake hands all
round, and greet each other with cheerful and pleasant looks.
Remembering that we assemble not only for the promotion of our
happiness, but with the view of adding something to the common
stock, an air of languor or indifference in any member of our body
would be regarded by the others as a kind of treason. We have
never had an offender in this respect; but if we had, there is no
doubt that he would be taken to task pretty severely.
Our salutation over, the venerable piece of antiquity from which we
take our name is wound up in silence. The ceremony is always
performed by Master Humphrey himself (in treating of the club, I
may be permitted to assume the historical style, and speak of
myself in the third person), who mounts upon a chair for the
purpose, armed with a large key. While it is in progress, Jack
Redburn is required to keep at the farther end of the room under
the guardianship of Mr. Miles, for he is known to entertain certain
aspiring and unhallowed thoughts connected with the clock, and has
even gone so far as to state that if he might take the works out
for a day or two, he thinks he could improve them. We pardon him
his presumption in consideration of his good intentions, and his
keeping this respectful distance, which last penalty is insisted
on, lest by secretly wounding the object of our regard in some
tender part, in the ardour of his zeal for its improvement, he
should fill us with dismay and consternation.
This regulation afforded Mr. Pickwick the highest delight, and
seemed, if possible, to exalt Jack in his good opinion.
The next ceremony is the opening of the clock-case (of which Master
Humphrey has likewise the key), the taking from it as many papers
as will furnish forth our evening's entertainment, and arranging in
the recess such new contributions as have been provided since our
last meeting. This is always done with peculiar solemnity. The
deaf gentleman then fills and lights his pipe, and we once more
take our seats round the table before mentioned, Master Humphrey
acting as president, - if we can be said to have any president,
where all are on the same social footing, - and our friend Jack as
secretary. Our preliminaries being now concluded, we fall into any
train of conversation that happens to suggest itself, or proceed
immediately to one of our readings. In the latter case, the paper
selected is consigned to Master Humphrey, who flattens it carefully
on the table and makes dog's ears in the corner of every page,
ready for turning over easily; Jack Redburn trims the lamp with a
small machine of his own invention which usually puts it out; Mr.
Miles looks on with great approval notwithstanding; the deaf
gentleman draws in his chair, so that he can follow the words on
the paper or on Master Humphrey's lips as he pleases; and Master
Humphrey himself, looking round with mighty gratification, and
glancing up at his old clock, begins to read aloud.
Mr. Pickwick's face, while his tale was being read, would have
attracted the attention of the dullest man alive. The complacent
motion of his head and forefinger as he gently beat time, and
corrected the air with imaginary punctuation, the smile that
mantled on his features at every jocose passage, and the sly look
he stole around to observe its effect, the calm manner in which he
shut his eyes and listened when there was some little piece of
description, the changing expression with which he acted the
dialogue to himself, his agony that the deaf gentleman should know
what it was all about, and his extraordinary anxiety to correct the
reader when he hesitated at a word in the manuscript, or
substituted a wrong one, were alike worthy of remark. And when at
last, endeavouring to communicate with the deaf gentleman by means
of the finger alphabet, with which he constructed such words as are
unknown in any civilised or savage language, he took up a slate and
wrote in large text, one word in a line, the question, 'How - do -
you - like - it?' - when he did this, and handing it over the table
awaited the reply, with a countenance only brightened and improved
by his great excitement, even Mr. Miles relaxed, and could not
forbear looking at him for the moment with interest and favour.
'It has occurred to me,' said the deaf gentleman, who had watched
Mr. Pickwick and everybody else with silent satisfaction - 'it has
occurred to me,' said the deaf gentleman, taking his pipe from his
lips, 'that now is our time for filling our only empty chair.'
As our conversation had naturally turned upon the vacant seat, we
lent a willing ear to this remark, and looked at our friend
inquiringly.
'I feel sure,' said he, 'that Mr. Pickwick must be acquainted with
somebody who would be an acquisition to us; that he must know the
man we want. Pray let us not lose any time, but set this question
at rest. Is it so, Mr. Pickwick?'
The gentleman addressed was about to return a verbal reply, but
remembering our friend's infirmity, he substituted for this kind of
answer some fifty nods. Then taking up the slate and printing on
it a gigantic 'Yes,' he handed it across the table, and rubbing his
hands as he looked round upon our faces, protested that he and the
deaf gentleman quite understood each other, already.
'The person I have in my mind,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'and whom I
should not have presumed to mention to you until some time hence,
but for the opportunity you have given me, is a very strange old
man. His name is Bamber.'
'Bamber!' said Jack. 'I have certainly heard the name before.'
'I have no doubt, then,' returned Mr. Pickwick, 'that you remember
him in those adventures of mine (the Posthumous Papers of our old
club, I mean), although he is only incidentally mentioned; and, if
I remember right, appears but once.'
'That's it,' said Jack. 'Let me see. He is the person who has a
grave interest in old mouldy chambers and the Inns of Court, and
who relates some anecdotes having reference to his favourite theme,
- and an odd ghost story, - is that the man?'
'The very same. Now,' said Mr. Pickwick, lowering his voice to a
mysterious and confidential tone, 'he is a very extraordinary and
remarkable person; living, and talking, and looking, like some
strange spirit, whose delight is to haunt old buildings; and
absorbed in that one subject which you have just mentioned, to an
extent which is quite wonderful. When I retired into private life,
I sought him out, and I do assure you that the more I see of him,
the more strongly I am impressed with the strange and dreamy
character of his mind.'
'Where does he live?' I inquired.
'He lives,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'in one of those dull, lonely old
places with which his thoughts and stories are all connected; quite
alone, and often shut up close for several weeks together. In this
dusty solitude he broods upon the fancies he has so long indulged,
and when he goes into the world, or anybody from the world without
goes to see him, they are still present to his mind and still his
favourite topic. I may say, I believe, that he has brought himself
to entertain a regard for me, and an interest in my visits;
feelings which I am certain he would extend to Master Humphrey's
Clock if he were once tempted to join us. All I wish you to
understand is, that he is a strange, secluded visionary, in the
world but not of it; and as unlike anybody here as he is unlike
anybody elsewhere that I have ever met or known.'
Mr. Miles received this account of our proposed companion with
rather a wry face, and after murmuring that perhaps he was a little
mad, inquired if he were rich.
'I never asked him,' said Mr. Pickwick.
'You might know, sir, for all that,' retorted Mr. Miles, sharply.
'Perhaps so, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, no less sharply than the
other, 'but I do not. Indeed,' he added, relapsing into his usual
mildness, 'I have no means of judging. He lives poorly, but that
would seem to be in keeping with his character. I never heard him
allude to his circumstances, and never fell into the society of any
man who had the slightest acquaintance with them. I have really
told you all I know about him, and it rests with you to say whether
you wish to know more, or know quite enough already.'
We were unanimously of opinion that we would seek to know more; and
as a sort of compromise with Mr. Miles (who, although he said 'Yes
- O certainly - he should like to know more about the gentleman -
he had no right to put himself in opposition to the general wish,'
and so forth, shook his head doubtfully and hemmed several times
with peculiar gravity), it was arranged that Mr. Pickwick should
carry me with him on an evening visit to the subject of our
discussion, for which purpose an early appointment between that
gentleman and myself was immediately agreed upon; it being
understood that I was to act upon my own responsibility, and to
invite him to join us or not, as I might think proper. This solemn
question determined, we returned to the clock-case (where we have
been forestalled by the reader), and between its contents, and the
conversation they occasioned, the remainder of our time passed very
quickly.
When we broke up, Mr. Pickwick took me aside to tell me that he had
spent a most charming and delightful evening. Having made this
communication with an air of the strictest secrecy, he took Jack
Redburn into another corner to tell him the same, and then retired
into another corner with the deaf gentleman and the slate, to
repeat the assurance. It was amusing to observe the contest in his
mind whether he should extend his confidence to Mr. Miles, or treat
him with dignified reserve. Half a dozen times he stepped up
behind him with a friendly air, and as often stepped back again
without saying a word; at last, when he was close at that
gentleman's ear and upon the very point of whispering something
conciliating and agreeable, Mr. Miles happened suddenly to turn his
head, upon which Mr. Pickwick skipped away, and said with some
fierceness, 'Good night, sir - I was about to say good night, sir,
- nothing more;' and so made a bow and left him.
'Now, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, when he had got down-stairs.
'All right, sir,' replied Mr. Weller. 'Hold hard, sir. Right arm
fust - now the left - now one strong conwulsion, and the great-
coat's on, sir.'
Mr. Pickwick acted upon these directions, and being further
assisted by Sam, who pulled at one side of the collar, and Mr.
Weller, who pulled hard at the other, was speedily enrobed. Mr.
Weller, senior, then produced a full-sized stable lantern, which he
had carefully deposited in a remote corner, on his arrival, and
inquired whether Mr. Pickwick would have 'the lamps alight.'
'I think not to-night,' said Mr. Pickwick.
'Then if this here lady vill per-mit,' rejoined Mr. Weller, 'we'll
leave it here, ready for next journey. This here lantern, mum,'
said Mr. Weller, handing it to the housekeeper, 'vunce belonged to
the celebrated Bill Blinder as is now at grass, as all on us vill
be in our turns. Bill, mum, wos the hostler as had charge o' them
two vell-known piebald leaders that run in the Bristol fast coach,
and vould never go to no other tune but a sutherly vind and a
cloudy sky, which wos consekvently played incessant, by the guard,
wenever they wos on duty. He wos took wery bad one arternoon,
arter having been off his feed, and wery shaky on his legs for some
veeks; and he says to his mate, "Matey," he says, "I think I'm a-
goin' the wrong side o' the post, and that my foot's wery near the
bucket. Don't say I an't," he says, "for I know I am, and don't
let me be interrupted," he says, "for I've saved a little money,
and I'm a-goin' into the stable to make my last vill and
testymint." "I'll take care as nobody interrupts," says his mate,
"but you on'y hold up your head, and shake your ears a bit, and
you're good for twenty years to come." Bill Blinder makes him no
answer, but he goes avay into the stable, and there he soon
artervards lays himself down a'tween the two piebalds, and dies, -
previously a writin' outside the corn-chest, "This is the last vill
and testymint of Villiam Blinder." They wos nat'rally wery much
amazed at this, and arter looking among the litter, and up in the
loft, and vere not, they opens the corn-chest, and finds that he'd
been and chalked his vill inside the lid; so the lid was obligated
to be took off the hinges, and sent up to Doctor Commons to be
proved, and under that 'ere wery instrument this here lantern was
passed to Tony Veller; vich circumstarnce, mum, gives it a wally in
my eyes, and makes me rekvest, if you vill be so kind, as to take
partickler care on it.'
The housekeeper graciously promised to keep the object of Mr.
Weller's regard in the safest possible custody, and Mr. Pickwick,
with a laughing face, took his leave. The bodyguard followed, side
by side; old Mr. Weller buttoned and wrapped up from his boots to
his chin; and Sam with his hands in his pockets and his hat half
off his head, remonstrating with his father, as he went, on his
extreme loquacity.
I was not a little surprised, on turning to go up-stairs, to
encounter the barber in the passage at that late hour; for his
attendance is usually confined to some half-hour in the morning.
But Jack Redburn, who finds out (by instinct, I think) everything
that happens in the house, informed me with great glee, that a
society in imitation of our own had been that night formed in the
kitchen, under the title of 'Mr. Weller's Watch,' of which the
barber was a member; and that he could pledge himself to find means
of making me acquainted with the whole of its future proceedings,
which I begged him, both on my own account and that of my readers,
by no means to neglect doing.
Content of CHAPTER IV - THE CLOCK [Charles Dickens's novel: Master Humphrey's Clock]
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