As I was the first to point out, the powerful "Stroller"s Tale" of which Boz himself thought so highly, was founded on the career of the unfortunate son of the great Grimaldi. The story is related by "Dismal Jemmy," the actor, who, in the tale itself, is called Hutley, and it corresponds in all its details with Grimaldi"s history. He died in September, 1832, nearly four years before Pickwick was thought of, but Boz had learned the incident long before the Grimaldi MSS. were given him to edit, and I am inclined to think he must have learned them from his friend Harley who was intimate with the Grimaldis. In the memoirs it is stated that Gledinning, a Printer, was sent by the father to his son"s dying bed, and he was probably the Hutley of the Stroller"s Tale, and, perhaps, the person who brought old Grimaldi the news of his death. We are told in the "Tale" that he had an engagement "at one of the Theatres on the Surrey side of the water," and in the memoirs we find that he was offered "an engagement for the Christmas at the Coburg." There his death is described:--"He rose in bed, drew up his withered limbs--he was acting--he was at the Theatre. He then sang some roaring song. The walls were alive with reptiles, frightful figures flitted to and fro . . .
His eyes shone with a l.u.s.tre frightful to behold, the lips were parched and cracked, the dry, hard skin glowed with a burning heat, and there was an almost unearthly air of wild anxiety in the man"s face."
Hutley also describes how he had to hold him down in his bed. Compare with this the account in the memoirs--"his body was covered with a fearful inflammation--he died in a state of wild and furious madness, rising from his bed, dressing himself in stage costume to act s.n.a.t.c.hes of the parts, and requiring to be held down to die by strong manual force."
This dreadful scene took place at a public house in Pitt Street, out of Tottenham Court Road.
"The man I speak of," says Boz in the story, "was a low, pantomime actor and an habitual drunkard. In his better days he had been in the receipt of a good salary. His besetting sin gained so fast on him that it was found impossible to employ him in the situations in which he really was useful." In the "memoirs" this is more than supported: "The man who might have earned with ease and comfort from six to seven hundred a year, was reduced to such a dreadful state of dest.i.tution and filth . . . In fact, at one time, it was thought he might have succeeded his father."
It is quite plain, therefore, that Boz was recalling this tragic episode.
Boz remarks that pantomime actors--clowns and others "either die early or, by unnaturally taxing their bodily energies, lose prematurely their physical powers." This was what occurred to Grimaldi, the father, whose curious decay he was to describe later in the memoirs. It may be added that there is an Alderman Harmer, Hatton Garden, mentioned in the memoirs, with whom Grimaldi _pere_ had some dealings; and, long after, this name was introduced by Boz into "Our Mutual Friend."
CHAPTER XI. MR. PICKWICK"S PROTOTYPE
We had a narrow escape of losing our Pickwick and his familiar type. The original notion was to have "a tall, long, thin man," and only for the late Edward Chapman, who providentially thought of the Richmond gentleman, Foster, we should have lost for ever the short, rotund Pickwick that we so love and cherish. A long, thin Pickwick! He could not be amiable, or benevolent, or mild, or genial. But what _could_ such a selection mean? Why, that Boz saw an opening for humorous treatment in introducing a purblind, foolish Professor, or scientist--one with spectacles--prying into this and that, taking notes &c. As Winkle was the sportsman, Tupman, the lover, Snodgra.s.s, the poet, so Mr. Pickwick was to be a sort of Pangloss or Dominie Sampson. His curiosity and love of enquiry were to get him into sc.r.a.pes, just as Mr. Winkle"s sham sportsmanship was to get him into embarra.s.sments. In fact, the first appearance in Seymour"s plate--the scene with the cabman--shows him as quite a different Pickwick; with a sour, cantankerous face; not in "tights," but in a great coat; he is scarcely recognisable. Seymour was then determined to show him after his own ideal. But when the poor artist destroyed himself the great man was brought up to the fitting type. So undecided were the parties about that type that the author had to leave it altogether an open question--a _tabula rasa_--not announcing that his hero was either tall or short, fat or lean, pale or rosy; all he commits himself to in his opening chapter is that he was bald, that he wore tights and gaiters, and, what is rather singular, _circular spectacles_. I suppose, in contrast to the more elongated gla.s.ses.
It might be an interesting question for the "paper of questions," "Why did Mr. Pickwick wear circular spectacles?" Was there any local weakness? The artist never forgot this direction. In the author of the t.i.ttlebatian system, &c., the "circular spectacles" would impart a sort of wise and owl-like stare. It was, of course, due to Chapman, the publisher, and was another of his "happy suggestions."
This Mr. Foster, of Richmond--fortunately for himself--was not known to be the original of "Pickwick," though many must have been struck by the likeness, both in physique and costume, to the picture. It is not stated that the features were copied, though, no doubt, Chapman would have vividly described them also; and Seymour was so ready and deft with his pencil that he must have certainly caught the likeness even from the description. We could fancy him rapidly making trial sketches, "Is that near it?" "No, fatter in the cheeks." "Is _that_?" "No, forehead a little higher, more bald," and so on. I myself was at Richmond, having just come from school, about ten years after the appearance of Pickwick--and for aught I know may have seen this Foster promenading it on the Hill. There was no particular interest then in Pickwick--which was somewhat forgotten, the interest being absorbed in the newer and brilliant works which Boz was bringing out. The society there was thoroughly Pickwickian; there were many old-fashioned figures, including the Mr. Jesse at whom the "Ponto" story was directed. We were gay enough. The old Star and Garter was flourishing. There were the a.s.sembly Rooms at the Castle Inn, with "Almack"s b.a.l.l.s"; barges coming down on Regatta days, when people danced on the deck and feasted in the cabin. There were private parties and dinners, and the old Theatre--Kean"s, with the manager"s house adjoining--was still standing on the Green, opening fitfully enough for a few nights, and then closing as fitfully. There I saw "The Green Bushes." Such a little Bandbox as it was! There were the two wooden staircases _outside_, of quaint appearance. Mr. Tupman may have been then alive and walking on the Terrace. He had retired there just twenty years before. He had probably rooms on the Green, near Maid of Honour Row. This little sketch shows clearly that Richmond is very nearly a.s.sociated with Pickwick. But here comes in another reminiscence of Richmond, for there rises before me, about a dozen years after the appearance of the book, the image of a very Pickwickian figure--bald and "circular," cozy, wearing a white tie and gla.s.ses--a favourite gossip with all the ladies--no other indeed than Maria Edgworth"s brother. He was a florid, good-humoured personage, a great talker, knew everybody in the place, and, like Mr. Pickwick, was an old bachelor, and kept an important housekeeper. He was genial and hospitable, would give parties, dinners, and dances. But the likeness in physique was the oddest part.
As the outside of Foster, of Richmond, supplied Mr. Pickwick"s outside and habit as he lived, so his "in"ards," or character, was also turned to profit and not wasted. And here suggests itself a very likely speculation. This image of the Richmond Foster was before him; through the book he thought of the old Beau and the ladies" protests. The amorous element would not do for his hero, for whom he had other work; but while he left the physique to Pickwick he certainly transferred the _character_ to one of his leading figures. That this is not fanciful will be seen. Mr. Chapman described Foster as "a fat old Beau": he was very popular, or, it may be, exceedingly well off. And at a place like Richmond he would be very _recherche_. But is it not exactly suggestive of Tupman--this "fat old Beau" devoted to the ladies? ("Because you are too old, sir; and too fat, sir," said his chief.) And on the first opportunity he _did_ get into tights, viz., as the brigand. What is more convincing is that at the close Boz sent Tupman back to Richmond whence he came, and where we are carefully a.s.sured "he walks constantly on the Terrace during the summer months with a youthful and jaunty air which has rendered him the admiration of the numerous elderly dames of single condition who reside in the vicinity." Seeing Mr. Foster"s occupation, I really think that this accounts for the novelist"s selection of Richmond.
Mr. Chapman recalled that not even the persuasion of the Richmond ladies could induce Mr. Foster, of Richmond, to forego his "tights" and gaiters--and much amus.e.m.e.nt was caused by the idiosyncrasy. This persistence, it is clear, was before Boz, who makes Mr. Pickwick abandon his gaiters only at the Ball at Manor Farm, but we are distinctly told "that it was the first time" he did so "within the memory of his oldest friends." Thus we have Foster, of Richmond, brought into actual touch with his double. Thus much for his physique, which, it is admitted, was all that was drawn from Foster. But that friendly manner; that genial, amiable nature which made him think "the whole world akin;" whence did Boz import all that? I believe he found this genial, friendly type in the very man who had suggested Foster, of Richmond, to him. That this is not purely fanciful will be seen from an account of Edward Chapman kindly supplied to me by one of his family.
"He was a short, stoutish person, very good-humoured, an affectionate family man, unaffected, and fond of the country. But touching his character; the first feature that came into my mind was his extreme justice; in my very earliest years I remember being impressed by it--one _felt_ it: all actions and motives were judged with a catholicity and charity that made us trust him implicity, and I see my sister has the same remembrance. He was naturally of a quiet, easy disposition; not much of a talker, but when he spoke he was always worth listening to. I see also she mentions his sense of humour, when his eyes would light up with a merry twinkle. I never remember hearing him say an unkind word to anyone. It is very pleasant to hear that papa is to be mentioned in connection with Pickwick, and I will gladly tell you all I can regarding my impressions of his character and tastes, &c. We only saw him for a short hour in the evening when he was tired after his day"s work and little inclined to talk, but we always had a child-like instinct of his great justice and impartiality--an impression that I retained all through his life.
"Later on, at Tunbridge Wells, where we saw more of him, I learned to admire his vast store of knowledge, as there was hardly a subject that I asked for information on that he did not know a great deal about. Also he had a great love of beauty in nature, and was never so happy as when he had his favourite, shabby old hat on and a long stick, which he had cut himself, in his hand, and poked about the grounds which surrounded our house, inspecting the holly hedge and shrubs he had planted--in fact it used to be a standing joke that he used to measure his holly bushes every day to see how much they had grown in the night. He was perfectly happy in such a life, as it suited his peaceful contented nature.
"He was a man who never used a rough word to anyone, but his remarks, if he were angry, could sting sharply. He had a fund of quiet humour, like a Scotchman, and his sallies told all the more, as they generally came when least expected and without an effort. Later on, I travelled with my mother and him for several years and benefited greatly through his knowledge and love of art, and his recognition and appreciation of all that was good and worthy of admiration in foreign lands and peoples. He had a soft heart, too, and was always ready to help those who asked for aid."
Next is introduced the prototype of Mr. Pickwick in a few touches:--
"There was an old family friend living at Richmond, named John Foster, _not Forster_, who was quite a character, especially in his personal appearance; it occurred to my father to introduce him to d.i.c.kens who had just commenced the Pickwick Papers. Accordingly, they were invited to meet one another at dinner, and, from this copy, d.i.c.kens turned out Pickwick.
"The trial in Pickwick was not originally written as it is given to the public. The number was just coming out and in the hands of "the reader"
(I believe John Forster was my father"s reader at that time, and had been educated for the Bar), when the following occurred: d.i.c.kens was going to dine that evening at my father"s house; they were waiting for dinner to be announced, when a messenger came in a great hurry (I think it must have been from the reader) to say that d.i.c.kens was wrong on a point of law, and that something must be done at once as the number was on the eve of publication, and the printers were waiting. They rang the bell, ordered dinner to be put back, and placed pen and paper before d.i.c.kens who set to work at once and re-wrote part of the trial, there and then; it was given to the messenger waiting in the hall, and d.i.c.kens sat down to dinner with a comfortable feeling that the publication had been saved in time.
"I have given these anecdotes as we remember hearing them spoken about in our home. I can picture the last one so well, the rapidity with which it was done, the young author, my parents, and the pretty home in which it took place.
"My father"s marriage was a romantic one. Visiting at Hitchin, he fell in love with his next door neighbour, a very pretty little Quakeress, dressed in the Quaker fashion of those days; her father was a very strict Friend, and was made very uneasy at the attentions of this London lover; but Mary was bright and vivacious, and encouraged him, and many were the interviews contrived by the young couple. Their rooms were on the same floor, though in different houses; my father, behind a piece of furniture, bored a hole through the dividing wall, and the lovers slipped notes backwards and forwards by this means. I am not aware that the simple-hearted parents ever found it out.
"But, at last, Mary was persuaded to leave her sheltered home and launch out into the world by his side. They were married in the north of England, from her brother"s house; the bridegroom sending from London, the day before the marriage, the dresses the little Quakeress was to robe herself in when she slipped out of her garb. The fit must have been greatly left to chance!
"Being full of tact and of engaging manners, she proved an excellent hostess, and well fitted for the position she held.
"My father died 20th February, 1880, aged 76, and was buried at Hitchin, beside my mother. He had long retired from business, and spent many years abroad on account of my mother"s health."
This pleasing sketch quite suggests the account given by Sterne of his father. There is a quaint, old-world air about it--and the traits are really those of Mr. Pickwick in his later development. We could imagine the latter at Dulwich examining and measuring his holly bushes. It would not be too fanciful to suppose that Boz--constantly with him, dining with him, and consulting him on every point--must have been impressed, and influenced too, by those amiable qualities, particularly by that unaffected simplicity and good-will which is also so notable in his hero.
So the figure stands thus--first, the long, thin man with Dry-as-dust tastes: then the short, round philanthropist, whose externals were suggested by the Foster, of Richmond, the latter"s "internals" being transferred to Tupman. Not only do "Vith and Visdom" go together, but also "Vith" and good humour and benevolence, which Boz felt were necessary adjuncts to such a physique. Where was he to find these? Now, we know how much Boz was inclined to draw from what was before his eyes.
It saved him trouble and also set his imagination at work. The Cheeryble Brothers, each a _Pickwick redivivus_, were taken from the Grant Brothers, merchants, at Manchester. And here he had this very exceptional character daily before him, in the person of Edward Chapman.
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CHAPTER XII. THE CALVERLEY EXAMINATION PAPER
Few things have been more interesting to the Pickwickian, or have done more to elevate Pickwickian study, than this celebrated _jeu d"esprit_.
Calverley, or Blayds--his original name--was a brilliant creature, well known for his scholarship, verses, and sayings. He early obtained a fellowship at Cambridge, and was one of the youngest "Dons." Like Dr.
Thomson, the celebrated Master, he is felt to be a characteristic and a real personage, even by those little familiar with his work or writings.
He was, moreover, an ardent Pickwickian and thoroughly saturated with the spirit of the immortal book, to appreciate which a first-rate memory, which he possessed, is essential; for the details, allusions, names, suggestions, are so immense that they require to be present together in the mind, and jostle each other out of recollection. In the "fifties, there were at Cambridge a number of persons interested in the Book, who were fond of quoting it and detecting oddities. It was in the year 1858 or 1859--for, curious to say, the year cannot be fixed--that Calverley conceived the _bizarre_ idea of offering a premium for the best answers to a series of searching examination questions, drawn from this cla.s.sic.
It was held at his own rooms at 7 o"clock in the evening, as Sir Walter Besant, one of the candidates, recalls it. There were about a dozen entered, the most formidable of whom were Skeat, the present professor of Anglo-Saxon, a well-known Chaucerian scholar, and Sir Walter Besant aforesaid. The latter describes the scene in very dramatic fashion--the Examiner, in his gown, cap, and hood, gravely walking up and down during the two hours the examination lasted, going through the ceremonial with all the regular solemnity of the Senate House. The candidates, we are told, expected a sort of jocose business, and were little prepared for the "stiffness" of the questions which were of the deep and searching kind they were accustomed to in the case of a Greek Play or a Latin Epic.
Almost at once, three-fourths showed by their helpless bewilderment that the thing was beyond them; and the struggle lay between the two well-versed Pickwickians--Besant and Skeat. The latter was known to have his "Pickwick" at his fingers" ends, and Besant confessed that he had but small hopes of success. Both plodded steadily through the long list of questions. It should be said that the compet.i.tion was open only to members of Christ Church College, which thus excluded the greatest reputed Pickwickian of them all, John Lempriere Hammond--the name, by the way, of the "creator" of Sam Weller on the stage. Besant went steadily through his list of questions to the end, revised his answers, and got his paper ready for delivery, but Skeat worked on to the very last moment. An evening or two later, as they were going into Hall, Calverley pinned up his report on the board at the door just like one of the usual University reports, and there was read the result:--
Besant . . . 1st Prize
Skeat . . . 2nd Prize
The authorities were not a little shocked at a liberty which a.s.sumed the aspect of a burlesque of their own proceedings, and Calverley was spoken to gently by a Don of the older school. The paper of questions certainly shows what ability may be brought to bear on so trifling a matter; for there is really a power of a.n.a.lysis and a grasp of "inner meaning" that is most remarkable. Sir Walter has very acutely commented on this little "exercise," and has shown that it reached much higher than a mere jest.
It brought out the extraordinary capacities of the book which have exercised so many minds. For "The Pickwick Examination," he says, "was not altogether a burlesque of a college examination; it was a very real and searching examination in a book which, brimful as it is of merriment, mirth, and wit, is just as intensely human as a book can be. The characters are not puppets in a farce, stuck up only to be knocked down: they are men and women. Page after page, they show their true characters and reveal themselves; they are consistent; even when they are most absurd they are most real; we learn to love them. It is a really serious test paper; no one could answer any of it who had not read and re-read the Pickwick Papers, and acquired, so to speak, a mastery of the subject.
No one could do well in the examination who had not gone much further than this and got to know the book almost by heart. It was a most wonderful burlesque of the ordinary College and Senate House examination, considering the subject from every possible point of view. Especially is it rich in the department then dear to Cambridge: the explanation of words, phrases, and idioms."
Some of these cruxes, Sir Walter tells us, could not be solved by the examiner, and were laid before Boz himself, with a copy of the questions.
Needless to say, Boz was infinitely amused, but, to the general disappointment, could or would give no information. The answer of Browning on a similar appeal is well known--he referred his questioners to the Browning Society, as knowing as much as he did on the point. There is no doubt that this is the true philosophy of the thing: that, once his ideas are in print, the author has no more to do with them or their meaning than anyone else has. The pa.s.sages must speak for themselves; they are children sent into the world--helpless infants like those Pickwickian "expletives, let loose upon society." Among these unexplained things were "my Prooshan Blue" and "Old n.o.bs." Sir Walter, with real Pickwickian sagacity, points to a true explanation which may be applied in other cases. "Probably it was a phrase _which he had heard in a crowd_, and had never asked himself what it meant," _i.e._, it seemed appropriate, and what a person in such a case would use. This is in fact part of that "hallucination" of which G. H. Lewes spoke; the scene came so completely before Boz that the words and phrases suggested themselves to him and could not be denied, and he did not ask them to give any account. This principle, however, does not hinder an amusing display of speculation. Mr. Andrew Lang"s explanation of "My Prooshan Blue" is certainly far fetched. He thinks it refers to a dreamy notion of George IV., who, at one moment, thought of changing the British uniform to the Prussian Blue. Now, this was not known at the time, and came out years later. It had certainly not reached persons of the Weller cla.s.s. The truth is that most of Sam"s grotesque epithets, _e.g._, "young Brokiley sprout," were the arbitrary coinage of a fantastic mind. This, too, as Sir Walter said, "he may have heard in a crowd," or in the mazes of his own brain. "Old n.o.bs" is just as reasonable as Hamlet"s "Old Truepenny."
"Are you there, Old Truepenny," might have been said by Sam to his father, as Hamlet addressed it to _his_.
CHAPTER XIII. PICKWICK IN REAL LIFE
I.--Dowler and John Forster
The truculent Dowler figured before in "The Tuggs at Ramsgate"--a very amusing and Pickwickian tale--under the t.i.tle of Capt. Waters, who exhibits the same simulated ferocity and jealousy of his spouse.
Cruickshank"s sketch, too, of the Captain is like that of Dowler when throwing up the window in the Crescent. Mrs. Waters is made as attractive as Mrs. Dowler, and Cymon Tuggs, like Winkle, excites the jealousy of the husband.
"Stop him," roared Dowler, "hold him--keep him tight--shut him in till I come down--I"ll cut his throat--give me a knife--from ear to ear, Mrs.
Craddock, I will." And Captain Waters: "Ah! what do I see? Slaughter, your sabre--unhand me--the villain"s life!"
In the same story we have an antic.i.p.ation of another incident: the shutting up and detection of Pipkin in the cupboard, who is discovered by a pipe being required, just as young Tuggs was by his coughing from the tobacco smoke. Boz was partial to this method of discovery, for, at the close, Snodgra.s.s was thus concealed and shut up at Osborne"s Hotel. His detection, through the stupidity of the Fat Boy, is singularly natural and original.
Some of Dowler"s dictatorial ways may have been suggested by Boz"s friend, the redoubtable John Forster. There is one pa.s.sage in the Bath chapters where we almost seem to hear our old friend speaking, when he took command of his friends and introduced them, "My friend, Angelo Cyrus Bantam, Esquire, know each other." "Bantam; Mr. Pickwick and his friends are strangers. _They must put their names down_. _Where"s the book_?"
Then adds: "This is a long call. It"s time to go; I shall be here again in an hour. _Come_." And at the a.s.sembly he still continued his patronage and direction of everybody. "Step in the tea-room--take your sixpenn"orth. They lay on hot water and call it tea. Drink it," said Mr. Dowler, _in a loud voice_, _directing Mr. Pickwick_." Forster "all over." We have heard him "direct" on many an occasion. When starting from the White Horse Cellars, Dowler, fancying that more pa.s.sengers were to be squeezed into the coach, said he would be d---d if there were; he"d bring an action against the company, and take a post chaise.