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twenty committee-men.
Amidst the cheers of the assembled throng, the band, and the
constables, and the committee-men, and the voters, and the
horsemen, and the carriages, took their places--each of the two-
horse vehicles being closely packed with as many gentlemen as
could manage to stand upright in it; and that assigned to Mr.
Perker, containing Mr. Pickwick, Mr. Tupman, Mr. Snodgrass,
and about half a dozen of the committee besides.
There was a moment of awful suspense as the procession
waited for the Honourable Samuel Slumkey to step into his
carriage. Suddenly the crowd set up a great cheering.
He has come out, said little Mr. Perker, greatly excited; the
more so as their position did not enable them to see what was
going forward.
Another cheer, much louder.
He has shaken hands with the men, cried the little agent.
Another cheer, far more vehement.
He has patted the babies on the head, said Mr. Perker,
trembling with anxiety.
A roar of applause that rent the air.
He has kissed one of em! exclaimed the delighted little man.
A second roar.
He has kissed another, gasped the excited manager.
A third roar.
Hes kissing em all! screamed the enthusiastic little gentleman,
and hailed by the deafening shouts of the multitude, the
procession moved on.
How or by what means it became mixed up with the other
procession, and how it was ever extricated from the confusion
consequent thereupon, is more than we can undertake to describe,
inasmuch as Mr. Pickwicks hat was knocked over his eyes, nose,
and mouth, by one poke of a Buff flag-staff, very early in the
proceedings. He describes himself as being surrounded on every
side, when he could catch a glimpse of the scene, by angry and
ferocious countenances, by a vast cloud of dust, and by a dense
crowd of combatants. He represents himself as being forced
from the carriage by some unseen power, and being personally
engaged in a pugilistic encounter; but with whom, or how, or
why, he is wholly unable to state. He then felt himself forced up
some wooden steps by the persons from behind; and on removing
his hat, found himself surrounded by his friends, in the very
front of the left hand side of the hustings. The right was reserved
for the Buff party, and the centre for the mayor and his officers;
one of whom--the fat crier of Eatanswill--was ringing an
enormous bell, by way of commanding silence, while Mr.
Horatio Fizkin, and the Honourable Samuel Slumkey, with their
hands upon their hearts, were bowing with the utmost affability
to the troubled sea of heads that inundated the open space in
front; and from whence arose a storm of groans, and shouts,
and yells, and hootings, that would have done honour to an earthquake.
Theres Winkle, said Mr. Tupman, pulling his friend by the sleeve.
Where! said Mr. Pickwick, putting on his spectacles, which
he had fortunately kept in his pocket hitherto.
There, said Mr. Tupman, on the top of that house. And
there, sure enough, in the leaden gutter of a tiled roof, were
Mr. Winkle and Mrs. Pott, comfortably seated in a couple of
chairs, waving their handkerchiefs in token of recognition--a
compliment which Mr. Pickwick returned by kissing his hand to
the lady.
The proceedings had not yet commenced; and as an inactive
crowd is generally disposed to be jocose, this very innocent
action was sufficient to awaken their facetiousness.
Oh, you wicked old rascal, cried one voice, looking arter the
girls, are you?
Oh, you wenerable sinner, cried another.
Putting on his spectacles to look at a married ooman! said a
third.
I see him a-winkin at her, with his wicked old eye, shouted a
fourth.
Look arter your wife, Pott, bellowed a fifth--and then there
was a roar of laughter.
As these taunts were accompanied with invidious comparisons
between Mr. Pickwick and an aged ram, and several witticisms of
the like nature; and as they moreover rather tended to convey
reflections upon the honour of an innocent lady, Mr. Pickwicks
indignation was excessive; but as silence was proclaimed at the
moment, he contented himself by scorching the mob with a look
of pity for their misguided minds, at which they laughed more
boisterously than ever.
Silence! roared the mayors attendants.
Whiffin, proclaim silence, said the mayor, with an air of
pomp befitting his lofty station. In obedience to this command the
crier performed another concerto on the bell, whereupon a
gentleman in the crowd called out Muffins; which occasioned
another laugh.
Gentlemen, said the mayor, at as loud a pitch as he could
possibly force his voice to--gentlemen. Brother The Pickwick Papers page 82 The Pickwick Papers page 84 |