IN WHICH IS GIVEN A FAITHFULPORTRAITURE OF TWO DISTINGUISHEDPERSONS; AND AN ACCURATE DESCRIPTIONOF A PUBLIC BREAKFAST IN THEIR HOUSEAND GROUNDS: WHICH PUBLIC BREAKFASTLEADS TO THE RECOGNITION OF AN OLDACQUAINTANCE, AND THE COMMENCEMENTOF ANOTHER CHAPTERr. Pickwick’s conscience had been somewhatreproaching him for his recent neglect of his friends atthe Peacock; and he was just on the point of walkingforth in quest of them, on the third morning after the election hadterminated, when his faithful valet put into his hand a card, onwhich was engraved3 the following inscription:―Mrs. Leo Hunter.
‘Person’s a-waitin’,’ said Sam, epigrammatically.
‘Does the person want me, Sam?’ inquired Mr. Pickwick.
‘He wants you partickler; and no one else’ll do, as the devil’sprivate secretary said ven he fetched avay Doctor Faustus,’ repliedMr. Weller.
‘He. Is it a gentleman?’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘A wery good imitation o’ one, if it ain’t,’ replied Mr. Weller.
‘But this is a lady’s card,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Given me by a gen’l’m’n, howsoever,’ replied Sam, ‘and he’s a-waitin’ in the drawing-room―said he’d rather wait all day, thannot see you.’
Mr. Pickwick, on hearing this determination, descended5 to thedrawing-room, where sat a grave man, who started up on hisentrance, and said, with an air of profound respect:―‘Mr. Pickwick, I presume?’
‘The same.’
‘Allow me, sir, the honour of grasping your hand. Permit me,sir, to shake it,’ said the grave man.
‘Certainly,’ said Mr. Pickwick. The stranger shook the extendedhand, and then continued―‘We have heard of your fame, sir. The noise of your antiquariandiscussion has reached the ears of Mrs. Leo Hunter―my wife, sir;I am Mr. Leo Hunter’―the stranger paused, as if he expected thatMr. Pickwick would be overcome by the disclosure; but seeing thathe remained perfectly6 calm, proceeded―‘My wife, sir―Mrs. Leo Hunter―is proud to number among heracquaintance all those who have rendered themselves celebratedby their works and talents. Permit me, sir, to place in aconspicuous part of the list the name of Mr. Pickwick, and hisbrother-members of the club that derives8 its name from him.’
‘I shall be extremely happy to make the acquaintance of such alady, sir,’ replied Mr. Pickwick.
‘You shall make it, sir,’ said the grave man. ‘To-morrowmorning, sir, we give a public breakfast―a fête champêtre―to agreat number of those who have rendered themselves celebratedby their works and talents. Permit Mrs. Leo Hunter, sir, to havethe gratification of seeing you at the Den.’
‘With great pleasure,’ replied Mr. Pickwick.
‘Mrs. Leo Hunter has many of these breakfasts, sir,’ resumedthe new acquaintance―‘“feasts of reason,” sir, “and flows of soul,”
as somebody who wrote a sonnet9 to Mrs. Leo Hunter on herbreakfasts, feelingly and originally observed.’
‘Was he celebrated7 for his works and talents?’ inquired Mr.
Pickwick.
‘He was sir,’ replied the grave man, ‘all Mrs. Leo Hunter’sacquaintances are; it is her ambition, sir, to have no otheracquaintance.’
‘It is a very noble ambition,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘When I inform Mrs. Leo Hunter, that that remark fell fromyour lips, sir, she will indeed be proud,’ said the grave man. ‘Youhave a gentleman in your train, who has produced some beautifullittle poems, I think, sir.’
‘My friend Mr. Snodgrass has a great taste for poetry,’ repliedMr. Pickwick.
‘So has Mrs. Leo Hunter, sir. She dotes on poetry, sir. Sheadores it; I may say that her whole soul and mind are wound up,and entwined with it. She has produced some delightful10 pieces,herself, sir. You may have met with her “Ode to an ExpiringFrog,” sir.’
‘I don’t think I have,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘You astonish me, sir,’ said Mr. Leo Hunter. ‘It created animmense sensation. It was signed with an “L” and eight stars, andappeared originally in a lady’s magazine. It commenced―‘“Can I view thee panting, lyingOn thy stomach, without sighing;Can I unmoved see thee dyingOn a logExpiring frog!”’
‘Beautiful!’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Fine,’ said Mr. Leo Hunter; ‘so simple.’
‘Very,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘The next verse is still more touching11. Shall I repeat it?’
‘If you please,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘It runs thus,’ said the grave man, still more gravely.
‘“Say, have fiends in shape of boys,With wild halloo, and brutal12 noise,Hunted thee from marshy13 joys,With a dog,Expiring frog!”’
‘Finely expressed,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘All point, sir,’ said Mr. Leo Hunter; ‘but you shall hear Mrs.
Leo Hunter repeat it. She can do justice to it, sir. She will repeat it,in character, sir, to-morrow morning.’
‘In character!’
‘As Minerva. But I forgot―it’s a fancy-dress breakfast.’
‘Dear me,’ said Mr. Pickwick, glancing at his own figure―‘Ican’t possibly―’
‘Can’t, sir; can’t!’ exclaimed Mr. Leo Hunter. ‘Solomon Lucas,the Jew in the High Street, has thousands of fancy-dresses.
Consider, sir, how many appropriate characters are open for yourselection. Plato, Zeno, Epicurus, Pythagoras―all founders14 ofclubs.’
‘I know that,’ said Mr. Pickwick; ‘but as I cannot put myself incompetition with those great men, I cannot presume to wear theirdresses.’
The grave man considered deeply, for a few seconds, and thensaid―‘On reflection, sir, I don’t know whether it would not affordMrs. Leo Hunter greater pleasure, if her guests saw a gentlemanof your celebrity15 in his own costume, rather than in an assumedone. I may venture to promise an exception in your case, sir―yes,I am quite certain that, on behalf of Mrs. Leo Hunter, I mayventure to do so.’
‘In that case,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘I shall have great pleasure incoming.’
‘But I waste your time, sir,’ said the grave man, as if suddenlyrecollecting himself. ‘I know its value, sir. I will not detain you. Imay tell Mrs. Leo Hunter, then, that she may confidently expectyou and your distinguished1 friends? Good-morning, sir, I amproud to have beheld16 so eminent17 a personage―not a step sir; not aword.’ And without giving Mr. Pickwick time to offerremonstrance or denial, Mr. Leo Hunter stalked gravely away.
Mr. Pickwick took up his hat, and repaired to the Peacock, butMr. Winkle had conveyed the intelligence of the fancy-ball there,before him.
‘Mrs. Pott’s going,’ were the first words with which he salutedhis leader.
‘Is she?’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘As Apollo,’ replied Winkle. ‘Only Pott objects to the tunic19.’
He is right. He is quite right,’ said Mr. Pickwick emphatically.
‘Yes; so she’s going to wear a white satin gown with goldspangles.’
‘They’ll hardly know what she’s meant for; will they?’ inquiredMr. Snodgrass.
‘Of course they will,’ replied Mr. Winkle indignantly. ‘They’llsee her lyre, won’t they?’
‘True; I forgot that,’ said Mr. Snodgrass.
‘I shall go as a bandit,’ interposed Mr. Tupman.
‘What!’ said Mr. Pickwick, with a sudden start.
‘As a bandit,’ repeated Mr. Tupman, mildly.
‘You don’t mean to say,’ said Mr. Pickwick, gazing with solemnsternness at his friend―‘you don’t mean to say, Mr. Tupman, thatit is your intention to put yourself into a green velvet20 jacket, with atwo-inch tail?’
‘Such is my intention, sir,’ replied Mr. Tupman warmly. ‘Andwhy not, sir?’
‘Because, sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, considerably21 excited―‘because you are too old, sir.’
‘Too old!’ exclaimed Mr. Tupman.
‘And if any further ground of objection be wanting,’ continuedMr. Pickwick, ‘you are too fat, sir.’
‘Sir,’ said Mr. Tupman, his face suffused22 with a crimson23 glow,‘this is an insult.’
‘Sir,’ replied Mr. Pickwick, in the same tone, ‘it is not half theinsult to you, that your appearance in my presence in a greenvelvet jacket, with a two-inch tail, would be to me.’
‘Sir,’ said Mr. Tupman, ‘you’re a fellow.’
‘Sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘you’re another!’
Mr. Tupman advanced a step or two, and glared at Mr.
Pickwick. Mr. Pickwick returned the glare, concentrated into afocus by means of his spectacles, and breathed a bold defiance24.
Mr. Snodgrass and Mr. Winkle looked on, petrified25 at beholdingsuch a scene between two such men.
‘Sir,’ said Mr. Tupman, after a short pause, speaking in a low,deep voice, ‘you have called me old.’
‘I have,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘And fat.’
‘And a fellow.’
‘So you are!’
There was a fearful pause.
‘My attachment28 to your person, sir,’ said Mr. Tupman, speakingin a voice tremulous with emotion, and tucking up his wristbandsmeanwhile, ‘is great―very great―but upon that person, I musttake summary vengeance29.’
‘Come on, sir!’ replied Mr. Pickwick. Stimulated30 by the excitingnature of the dialogue, the heroic man actually threw himself intoa paralytic31 attitude, confidently supposed by the two bystanders tohave been intended as a posture32 of defence.
‘What!’ exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass, suddenly recovering thepower of speech, of which intense astonishment33 had previouslybereft him, and rushing between the two, at the imminent34 hazardof receiving an application on the temple from each―‘what! Mr.
Pickwick, with the eyes of the world upon you! Mr. Tupman! who,in common with us all, derives a lustre35 from his undying name!
For shame, gentlemen; for shame.’
The unwonted lines which momentary36 passion had ruled in Mr.
Pickwick’s clear and open brow, gradually melted away, as hisyoung friend spoke37, like the marks of a black-lead pencil beneaththe softening38 influence of india-rubber. His countenance39 hadresumed its usual benign40 expression, ere he concluded.
‘I have been hasty,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘very hasty. Tupman;your hand.’
The dark shadow passed from Mr. Tupman’s face, as he warmlygrasped the hand of his friend.
‘I have been hasty, too,’ said he.
‘No, no,’ interrupted Mr. Pickwick, ‘the fault was mine. You willwear the green velvet jacket?’
‘No, no,’ replied Mr. Tupman.
‘To oblige me, you will,’ resumed Mr. Pickwick.
‘Well, well, I will,’ said Mr. Tupman.
It was accordingly settled that Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, andMr. Snodgrass, should all wear fancy-dresses. Thus Mr. Pickwickwas led by the very warmth of his own good feelings to give hisconsent to a proceeding41 from which his better judgment42 wouldhave recoiled―a more striking illustration of his amiablecharacter could hardly have been conceived, even if the eventsrecorded in these pages had been wholly imaginary.
Mr. Leo Hunter had not exaggerated the resources of Mr.
Solomon Lucas. His wardrobe was extensive―very extensive―notstrictly classical perhaps, not quite new, nor did it contain any onegarment made precisely44 after the fashion of any age or time, buteverything was more or less spangled; and what can be prettierthan spangles! It may be objected that they are not adapted to thedaylight, but everybody knows that they would glitter if there werelamps; and nothing can be clearer than that if people give fancy-balls in the day-time, and the dresses do not show quite as well asthey would by night, the fault lies solely45 with the people who givethe fancy-balls, and is in no wise chargeable on the spangles. Suchwas the convincing reasoning of Mr. Solomon Lucas; andinfluenced by such arguments did Mr. Tupman, Mr. Winkle, andMr. Snodgrass engage to array themselves in costumes which histaste and experience induced him to recommend as admirablysuited to the occasion.
A carriage was hired from the Town Arms, for theaccommodation of the Pickwickians, and a chariot was orderedfrom the same repository, for the purpose of conveying Mr. andMrs. Pott to Mrs. Leo Hunter’s grounds, which Mr. Pott, as adelicate acknowledgment of having received an invitation, hadalready confidently predicted in the Eatanswill Gazette ‘wouldpresent a scene of varied46 and delicious enchantment―abewildering coruscation47 of beauty and talent―a lavish48 andprodigal display of hospitality―above all, a degree of splendoursoftened by the most exquisite49 taste; and adornment50 refined withperfect harmony and the chastest good keeping―compared withwhich, the fabled51 gorgeousness of Eastern fairyland itself wouldappear to be clothed in as many dark and murky52 colours, as mustbe the mind of the splenetic and unmanly being who couldpresume to taint53 with the venom54 of his envy, the preparationsmade by the virtuous55 and highly distinguished lady at whoseshrine this humble56 tribute of admiration57 was offered.’ This lastwas a piece of biting sarcasm58 against the Independent, who, inconsequence of not having been invited at all, had been, throughfour numbers, affecting to sneer59 at the whole affair, in his verylargest type, with all the adjectives in capital letters.
The morning came: it was a pleasant sight to behold26 Mr.
Tupman in full brigand60’s costume, with a very tight jacket, sittinglike a pincushion over his back and shoulders, the upper portionof his legs incased in the velvet shorts, and the lower part thereofswathed in the complicated bandages to which all brigands61 arepeculiarly attached. It was pleasing to see his open and ingenuouscountenance, well mustachioed and corked62, looking out from anopen shirt collar; and to contemplate63 the sugar-loaf hat, decoratedwith ribbons of all colours, which he was compelled to carry on hisknee, inasmuch as no known conveyance64 with a top to it, wouldadmit of any man’s carrying it between his head and the roof.
Equally humorous and agreeable was the appearance of Mr.
Snodgrass in blue satin trunks and cloak, white silk tights andshoes, and Grecian helmet, which everybody knows (and if they donot, Mr. Solomon Lucas did) to have been the regular, authentic,everyday costume of a troubadour, from the earliest ages down tothe time of their final disappearance65 from the face of the earth. Allthis was pleasant, but this was as nothing compared with theshouting of the populace when the carriage drew up, behind Mr.
Pott’s chariot, which chariot itself drew up at Mr. Pott’s door,which door itself opened, and displayed the great Pott accoutredas a Russian officer of justice, with a tremendous knout in hishand―tastefully typical of the stern and mighty66 power of theEatanswill Gazette, and the fearful lashings it bestowed67 on publicoffenders.
‘Bravo!’ shouted Mr. Tupman and Mr. Snodgrass from thepassage, when they beheld the walking allegory.
‘Bravo!’ Mr. Pickwick was heard to exclaim, from the passage.
‘Hoo-roar Pott!’ shouted the populace. Amid these salutations,Mr. Pott, smiling with that kind of bland69 dignity which sufficientlytestified that he felt his power, and knew how to exert it, got intothe chariot.
Then there emerged from the house, Mrs. Pott, who would havelooked very like Apollo if she hadn’t had a gown on, conducted byMr. Winkle, who, in his light-red coat could not possibly have beenmistaken for anything but a sportsman, if he had not borne anequal resemblance to a general postman. Last of all came Mr.
Pickwick, whom the boys applauded as loud as anybody, probablyunder the impression that his tights and gaiters were someremnants of the dark ages; and then the two vehicles proceededtowards Mrs. Leo Hunter’s; Mr. Weller (who was to assist inwaiting) being stationed on the box of that in which his master wasseated.
Every one of the men, women, boys, girls, and babies, who wereassembled to see the visitors in their fancy-dresses, screamed withdelight and ecstasy70, when Mr. Pickwick, with the brigand on onearm, and the troubadour on the other, walked solemnly up theentrance. Never were such shouts heard as those which greetedMr. Tupman’s efforts to fix the sugar-loaf hat on his head, by wayof entering the garden in style.
The preparations were on the most delightful scale; fullyrealising the prophetic Pott’s anticipations71 about the gorgeousnessof Eastern fairyland, and at once affording a sufficientcontradiction to the malignant72 statements of the reptileIndependent. The grounds were more than an acre and a quarterin extent, and they were filled with people! Never was such a blazeof beauty, and fashion, and literature. There was the young ladywho ‘did’ the poetry in the Eatanswill Gazette, in the garb73 of asultana, leaning upon the arm of the young gentleman who ‘did’
the review department, and who was appropriately habited in afield-marshal’s uniform―the boots excepted. There were hosts ofthese geniuses, and any reasonable person would have thought ithonour enough to meet them. But more than these, there werehalf a dozen lions from London―authors, real authors, who hadwritten whole books, and printed them afterwards―and here youmight see ’em, walking about, like ordinary men, smiling, andtalking―aye, and talking pretty considerable nonsense too, nodoubt with the benign intention of rendering74 themselvesintelligible to the common people about them. Moreover, therewas a band of music in pasteboard caps; four something-eansingers in the costume of their country, and a dozen hired waitersin the costume of their country―and very dirty costume too. Andabove all, there was Mrs. Leo Hunter in the character of Minerva,receiving the company, and overflowing75 with pride andgratification at the notion of having called such distinguishedindividuals together.
‘Mr. Pickwick, ma’am,’ said a servant, as that gentlemanapproached the presiding goddess, with his hat in his hand, andthe brigand and troubadour on either arm.
‘What! Where!’ exclaimed Mrs. Leo Hunter, starting up, in anaffected rapture76 of surprise.
‘Here,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘Is it possible that I have really the gratification of beholdingMr. Pickwick himself!’ ejaculated Mrs. Leo Hunter.
‘No other, ma’am,’ replied Mr. Pickwick, bowing very low.
‘Permit me to introduce my friends―Mr. Tupman―Mr. Winkle―Mr. Snodgrass―to the authoress of “The Expiring Frog.”’ Veryfew people but those who have tried it, know what a difficultprocess it is to bow in green velvet smalls, and a tight jacket, andhigh-crowned hat; or in blue satin trunks and white silks, or knee-cords and top-boots that were never made for the wearer, andhave been fixed77 upon him without the remotest reference to thecomparative dimensions of himself and the suit. Never were suchdistortions as Mr. Tupman’s frame underwent in his efforts toappear easy and graceful―never was such ingenious posturing78, ashis fancy-dressed friends exhibited.
‘Mr. Pickwick,’ said Mrs. Leo Hunter, ‘I must make you promisenot to stir from my side the whole day. There are hundreds ofpeople here, that I must positively79 introduce you to.’
‘You are very kind, ma’am,’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘In the first place, here are my little girls; I had almost forgottenthem,’ said Minerva, carelessly pointing towards a couple of full-grown young ladies, of whom one might be about twenty, and theother a year or two older, and who were dressed in very juvenilecostumes―whether to make them look young, or their mammayounger, Mr. Pickwick does not distinctly inform us.
‘They are very beautiful,’ said Mr. Pickwick, as the juvenilesturned away, after being presented.
‘They are very like their mamma, sir,’ said Mr. Pott,majestically.
‘Oh, you naughty man,’ exclaimed Mrs. Leo Hunter, playfullytapping the editor’s arm with her fan (Minerva with a fan!).
‘Why now, my dear Mrs. Hunter,’ said Mr. Pott, who wastrumpeter in ordinary at the Den, ‘you know that when yourpicture was in the exhibition of the Royal Academy, last year,everybody inquired whether it was intended for you, or youryoungest daughter; for you were so much alike that there was notelling the difference between you.’
‘Well, and if they did, why need you repeat it, before strangers?’
said Mrs. Leo Hunter, bestowing80 another tap on the slumberinglion of the Eatanswill Gazette.
‘Count, count,’ screamed Mrs. Leo Hunter to a well-whiskeredindividual in a foreign uniform, who was passing by.
‘Ah! you want me?’ said the count, turning back.
‘I want to introduce two very clever people to each other,’ saidMrs. Leo Hunter. ‘Mr. Pickwick, I have great pleasure inintroducing you to Count Smorltork.’ She added in a hurriedwhisper to Mr. Pickwick―‘The famous foreigner―gatheringmaterials for his great work on England―hem!―CountSmorltork, Mr. Pickwick.’ Mr. Pickwick saluted18 the count with allthe reverence81 due to so great a man, and the count drew forth2 aset of tablets.
‘What you say, Mrs. Hunt?’ inquired the count, smilinggraciously on the gratified Mrs. Leo Hunter, ‘Pig Vig or Big Vig―what you call―lawyer―eh? I see―that is it. Big Vig’―and thecount was proceeding to enter Mr. Pickwick in his tablets, as agentleman of the long robe, who derived82 his name from theprofession to which he belonged, when Mrs. Leo Hunterinterposed.
‘No, no, count,’ said the lady, ‘Pick-wick.’
‘Ah, ah, I see,’ replied the count. ‘Peek83―christian name;Weeks―surname; good, ver good. Peek Weeks. How you do,Weeks?’
‘Quite well, I thank you,’ replied Mr. Pickwick, with all his usualaffability. ‘Have you been long in England?’
‘Long―ver long time―fortnight―more.’
‘Do you stay here long?’
‘One week.’
‘You will have enough to do,’ said Mr. Pickwick smiling, ‘togather all the materials you want in that time.’
‘Eh, they are gathered,’ said the count.
‘Indeed!’ said Mr. Pickwick.
‘They are here,’ added the count, tapping his foreheadsignificantly. ‘Large book at home―full of notes―music, picture,science, potry, poltic; all tings.’
‘The word politics, sir,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘comprises in itself, adifficult study of no inconsiderable magnitude.’
‘Ah!’ said the count, drawing out the tablets again, ‘ver good―fine words to begin a chapter. Chapter forty-seven. Poltics. Theword poltic surprises by himself―.’ And down went Mr.
Pickwick’s remark, in Count Smorltork’s tablets, with suchvariations and additions as the count’s exuberant84 fancy suggested,or his imperfect knowledge of the language occasioned.
‘Count,’ said Mrs. Leo Hunter. ‘Mrs. Hunt,’ replied the count.
‘This is Mr. Snodgrass, a friend of Mr. Pickwick’s, and a poet.’
‘Stop,’ exclaimed the count, bringing out the tablets once more.
‘Head, potry―chapter, literary friends―name, Snowgrass; vergood. Introduced to Snowgrass―great poet, friend of PeekWeeks―by Mrs. Hunt, which wrote other sweet poem―what isthat name?―Fog―Perspiring Fog―ver good―ver good indeed.’
And the count put up his tablets, and with sundry85 bows andacknowledgments walked away, thoroughly86 satisfied that he hadmade the most important and valuable additions to his stock ofinformation.
‘Wonderful man, Count Smorltork,’ said Mrs. Leo Hunter.
‘Sound philosopher,’ said Mr. Pott.
‘Clear-headed, strong-minded person,’ added Mr. Snodgrass.
A chorus of bystanders took up the shout of Count Smorltork’spraise, shook their heads sagely87, and unanimously cried, ‘Very!’
As the enthusiasm in Count Smorltork’s favour ran very high,his praises might have been sung until the end of the festivities, ifthe four something-ean singers had not ranged themselves in frontof a small apple-tree, to look picturesque88, and commenced singingtheir national songs, which appeared by no means difficult ofexecution, inasmuch as the grand secret seemed to be, that threeof the something-ean singers should grunt89, while the fourthhowled. This interesting performance having concluded amidstthe loud plaudits of the whole company, a boy forthwith proceededto entangle90 himself with the rails of a chair, and to jump over it,and crawl under it, and fall down with it, and do everything but situpon it, and then to make a cravat91 of his legs, and tie them roundhis neck, and then to illustrate92 the ease with which a human beingcan be made to look like a magnified toad―all which feats93 yieldedhigh delight and satisfaction to the assembled spectators. Afterwhich, the voice of Mrs. Pott was heard to chirp94 faintly forth,something which courtesy interpreted into a song, which was allvery classical, and strictly43 in character, because Apollo washimself a composer, and composers can very seldom sing theirown music or anybody else’s, either. This was succeeded by Mrs.
Leo Hunter’s recitation of her far-famed ‘Ode to an Expiring Frog,’
which was encored once, and would have been encored twice, ifthe major part of the guests, who thought it was high time to getsomething to eat, had not said that it was perfectly shameful95 totake advantage of Mrs. Hunter’s good nature. So although Mrs.
Leo Hunter professed96 her perfect willingness to recite the odeagain, her kind and considerate friends wouldn’t hear of it on anyaccount; and the refreshment97 room being thrown open, all thepeople who had ever been there before, scrambled98 in with allpossible despatch―Mrs. Leo Hunter’s usual course of proceedingsbeing, to issue cards for a hundred, and breakfast for fifty, or inother words to feed only the very particular lions, and let thesmaller animals take care of themselves.
‘Where is Mr. Pott?’ said Mrs. Leo Hunter, as she placed theaforesaid lions around her.
‘Here I am,’ said the editor, from the remotest end of the room;far beyond all hope of food, unless something was done for him bythe hostess.
‘Won’t you come up here?’
‘Oh, pray don’t mind him,’ said Mrs. Pott, in the most obligingvoice―‘you give yourself a great deal of unnecessary trouble, Mrs.
Hunter. You’ll do very well there, won’t you―dear?’
‘Certainly―love,’ replied the unhappy Pott, with a grim smile.
Alas for the knout! The nervous arm that wielded99 it, with such agigantic force on public characters, was paralysed beneath theglance of the imperious Mrs. Pott.
Mrs. Leo Hunter looked round her in triumph. CountSmorltork was busily engaged in taking notes of the contents ofthe dishes; Mr. Tupman was doing the honours of the lobster100 saladto several lionesses, with a degree of grace which no brigand everexhibited before; Mr. Snodgrass having cut out the younggentleman who cut up the books for the Eatanswill Gazette, wasengaged in an impassioned argument with the young lady who didthe poetry; and Mr. Pickwick was making himself universallyagreeable. Nothing seemed wanting to render the select circlecomplete, when Mr. Leo Hunter―whose department on theseoccasions, was to stand about in doorways101, and talk to the lessimportant people―suddenly called out―‘My dear; here’s Mr.
Charles Fitz-Marshall.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Mrs. Leo Hunter, ‘how anxiously I have beenexpecting him. Pray make room, to let Mr. Fitz-Marshall pass. TellMr. Fitz-Marshall, my dear, to come up to me directly, to bescolded for coming so late.’
‘Coming, my dear ma’am,’ cried a voice, ‘as quick as I can―crowds of people―full room―hard work―very.’
Mr. Pickwick’s knife and fork fell from his hand. He staredacross the table at Mr. Tupman, who had dropped his knife andfork, and was looking as if he were about to sink into the groundwithout further notice.
‘Ah!’ cried the voice, as its owner pushed his way among thelast five-and-twenty Turks, officers, cavaliers, and Charles theSeconds, that remained between him and the table, ‘regularmangle―Baker’s patent―not a crease102 in my coat, after all thissqueezing―might have “got up my linen” as I came along―ha!
ha! not a bad idea, that―queer thing to have it mangled103 when it’supon one, though―trying process―very.’
With these broken words, a young man dressed as a navalofficer made his way up to the table, and presented to theastonished Pickwickians the identical form and features of Mr.
Alfred Jingle104. The offender68 had barely time to take Mrs. LeoHunter’s proffered105 hand, when his eyes encountered the indignantorbs of Mr. Pickwick.
‘Hollo!’ said Jingle. ‘Quite forgot―no directions to postillion―give ’em at once―back in a minute.’
‘The servant, or Mr. Hunter will do it in a moment, Mr. Fitz-Marshall,’ said Mrs. Leo Hunter.
‘No, no―I’ll do it―shan’t be long―back in no time,’ repliedJingle. With these words he disappeared among the crowd.
‘Will you allow me to ask you, ma’am,’ said the excited Mr.
Pickwick, rising from his seat, ‘who that young man is, and wherehe resides?’
‘He is a gentleman of fortune, Mr. Pickwick,’ said Mrs. LeoHunter, ‘to whom I very much want to introduce you. The countwill be delighted with him.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Mr. Pickwick hastily. ‘His residence―’
‘Is at present at the Angel at Bury.’
‘At Bury?’
‘At Bury St. Edmunds, not many miles from here. But dear me,Mr. Pickwick, you are not going to leave us; surely Mr. Pickwickyou cannot think of going so soon?’
But long before Mrs. Leo Hunter had finished speaking, Mr.
Pickwick had plunged106 through the throng107, and reached thegarden, whither he was shortly afterwards joined by Mr. Tupman,who had followed his friend closely.
‘It’s of no use,’ said Mr. Tupman. ‘He has gone.’
I know it,’ said Mr. Pickwick, ‘and I will follow him.’
‘Follow him! Where?’ inquired Mr. Tupman.
‘To the Angel at Bury,’ replied Mr. Pickwick, speaking veryquickly. ‘How do we know whom he is deceiving there? Hedeceived a worthy108 man once, and we were the innocent cause. Heshall not do it again, if I can help it; I’ll expose him! Sam! Where’smy servant?’
‘Here you are, sir,’ said Mr. Weller, emerging from asequestered spot, where he had been engaged in discussing abottle of Madeira, which he had abstracted from the breakfast-table an hour or two before. ‘Here’s your servant, sir. Proud o’ thetitle, as the living skellinton said, ven they show’d him.’
‘Follow me instantly,’ said Mr. Pickwick. ‘Tupman, if I stay atBury, you can join me there, when I write. Till then, good-bye!’
Remonstrances were useless. Mr. Pickwick was roused, and hismind was made up. Mr. Tupman returned to his companions; andin another hour had drowned all present recollection of Mr. AlfredJingle, or Mr. Charles Fitz-Marshall, in an exhilarating quadrilleand a bottle of champagne109. By that time, Mr. Pickwick and SamWeller, perched on the outside of a stage-coach, were everysucceeding minute placing a less and less distance betweenthemselves and the good old town of Bury St. Edmunds.
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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4
den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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5
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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6
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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7
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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8
derives
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| v.得到( derive的第三人称单数 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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9
sonnet
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| n.十四行诗 | |
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10
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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11
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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12
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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13
marshy
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| adj.沼泽的 | |
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14
founders
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| n.创始人( founder的名词复数 ) | |
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15
celebrity
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| n.名人，名流；著名，名声，名望 | |
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16
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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17
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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18
saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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19
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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20
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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21
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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22
suffused
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| v.（指颜色、水气等）弥漫于，布满( suffuse的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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23
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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24
defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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25
petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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26
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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27
reiterate
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| v.重申，反复地说 | |
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28
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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29
vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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30
stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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31
paralytic
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| adj. 瘫痪的 n. 瘫痪病人 | |
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32
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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33
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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34
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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35
lustre
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| n.光亮，光泽；荣誉 | |
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36
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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37
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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38
softening
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| 变软，软化 | |
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39
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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40
benign
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| adj.善良的，慈祥的；良性的，无危险的 | |
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41
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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42
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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43
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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44
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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45
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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46
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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47
coruscation
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| n.闪光，焕发 | |
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48
lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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49
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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50
adornment
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| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
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51
fabled
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| adj.寓言中的，虚构的 | |
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52
murky
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| adj.黑暗的，朦胧的；adv.阴暗地，混浊地；n.阴暗；昏暗 | |
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53
taint
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| n.污点；感染；腐坏；v.使感染；污染 | |
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54
venom
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| n.毒液，恶毒，痛恨 | |
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55
virtuous
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| adj.有品德的，善良的，贞洁的，有效力的 | |
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56
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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57
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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58
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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59
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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60
brigand
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| n.土匪，强盗 | |
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61
brigands
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| n.土匪，强盗( brigand的名词复数 ) | |
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62
corked
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| adj.带木塞气味的，塞着瓶塞的v.用瓶塞塞住( cork的过去式 ) | |
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63
contemplate
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| vt.盘算，计议；周密考虑；注视，凝视 | |
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64
conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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65
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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66
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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67
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
offender
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| n.冒犯者，违反者，犯罪者 | |
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69
bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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70
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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71
anticipations
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| 预期( anticipation的名词复数 )； 预测； （信托财产收益的）预支； 预期的事物 | |
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72
malignant
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| adj.恶性的，致命的；恶意的，恶毒的 | |
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73
garb
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| n.服装，装束 | |
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74
rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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75
overflowing
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| n. 溢出物,溢流 adj. 充沛的，充满的 动词overflow的现在分词形式 | |
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76
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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77
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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78
posturing
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| 做出某种姿势( posture的现在分词 ) | |
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79
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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80
bestowing
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| 砖窑中砖堆上层已烧透的砖 | |
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81
reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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82
derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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83
peek
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| vi.偷看，窥视；n.偷偷的一看，一瞥 | |
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84
exuberant
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| adj.充满活力的；（植物）繁茂的 | |
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85
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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86
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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87
sagely
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| adv. 贤能地，贤明地 | |
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88
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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89
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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90
entangle
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| vt.缠住，套住；卷入，连累 | |
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91
cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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92
illustrate
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| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
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93
feats
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| 功绩，伟业，技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
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94
chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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95
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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96
professed
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| 公开声称的，伪称的，已立誓信教的 | |
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97
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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98
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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99
wielded
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| 手持着使用（武器、工具等）( wield的过去式和过去分词 )； 具有； 运用（权力）； 施加（影响） | |
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100
lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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101
doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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102
crease
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| n.折缝，褶痕，皱褶；v.(使)起皱 | |
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103
mangled
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| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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104
jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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105
proffered
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| v.提供，贡献，提出( proffer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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107
throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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108
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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109
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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