Pickwickian Studies | Page 7

twice a casual remark of Mr. Pickwick's furnishes a hint. Thus Mr. Magnus, pressing him for his advice in this delicate matter of proposing, asked him had he ever done this sort of thing in his time. "You mean proposing?" said the great man. "Yes." "Never," said Mr. Pickwick, with great energy, and then repeated the word "Never." His friend then assumed that he did not know how it was best to begin. "Why," said the other, cautiously, "I may have formed some ideas on the subject," but then added that he had "never submitted them to the test of experience." This is distinct enough, but it does all the same hint at some affaire de coeur, else why would he "have formed some ideas upon the subject." Of course, it may be that he was thinking of Mrs. Bardell and her cruel charges. Still, it was strange that a man should have reached to fifty, have grown round and stout, without ever offering his hand. The first picture in the book, however, helps us to speculate a little. Over his head in the room at Dulwich hangs the portrait of an old lady in spectacles, the image of the great Samuel; his mother certainly. He evidently regarded her with deep affection, he had brought the picture to Dulwich and placed it where it should always be before his eyes. Could it not be, and is it not natural that in addition to his other amiabilities he was the best of sons--that she "ruled the roast"--that in the old Mrs. Wardle, to whom he so filially attended, he saw his mother's image, that she was with him to the day of her death, and that while she lived, he resolved that no one else should be mistress there! After her death he found himself a confirmed old bachelor. There's a speculation for you on the German lines.
We might go on. This self denial must have been the more meritorious as he was by nature of an affectionate, even amorous, cast. He seized every opportunity of kissing the young ladies. He would certainly have liked to have had some fair being at home whom he could thus distinguish. How good this description of the rogue--
"Mr. Pickwick kissed the young ladies--we were going to say as if they were his own daughters, only, as he might possibly have infused a little more warmth into the salutation, the comparison would not be quite appropriate."
He never lost a chance. In the same spirit, when the blushing Arabella came to tell of her marriage, "can you forgive my imprudence?" He returned "no verbal response"--not he--"but took off his spectacles in great haste, and seizing both the young lady's hands in his, kissed her a great many times--perhaps a greater number of times than was absolutely necessary." Observe the artfulness of all this--the deliberation--taking off the spectacles so that they should not be in the way--seizing her hands--and then setting to work! Oh, he knew more of "this sort of thing" than he had credit for. He had never proposed--true--but he had been near it a precious sight more than he said.
Miss Witherfield is a rather mysterious personage, yet we take an interest in her and speculate on her history. She lived some twenty miles from Ipswich--no doubt at a family place of her own. She had come in to stay at the White Horse for the night and the morning. She was, no doubt, a person of property--otherwise Mr. Magnus would not have been so eager, and he must have been a fortune hunter, for he confided to Mr. Pickwick, that he had been jilted "three or four times." What a quaint notion by the way that of his: "I think an Inn is a good sort of place to propose to a single woman in, Mr. Pickwick. She is more likely to feel the loneliness of her situation in travelling, perhaps than she would be, at home."
We find here some of the always amusing bits of confusion that recur in the book. Here might be a Calverley question, "When was it, and where was it, that the Pickwickians had two dinners in the one day?" Answer: At the Great White Horse on this very visit. When Mr. Nupkins retired to lunch, after his interview with Miss Witherfield, the Pickwickians sat down to their dinner "quietly," and were in the midst of that meal, when Grummer arrived to arrest them. They were taken to Nupkins', and there dined with him. This dinner would have brought them to five o'clock:--we are told of candles--so that it was dark--yet this was the month of May, when it would been light enough till eight o'clock. Mrs. Nupkins' dress, on coming in from lunch, is worth noting. "A blue