his colleagues in reference to the advisability, in the present
state of the discussions on the new paving-rate, of answering that
question. But, as the honourable gentleman has NOT had the
courtesy to give him notice of that question (great cheering from
the Wigsby interest), he must decline to give the honourable
gentleman the satisfaction he requires. Mr. Magg, instantly rising
to retort, is received with loud cries of 'Spoke!' from the Wigsby
interest, and with cheers from the Magg side of the house.
Moreover, five gentlemen rise to order, and one of them, in revenge
for being taken no notice of, petrifies the assembly by moving that
this Vestry do now adjourn; but, is persuaded to withdraw that
awful proposal, in consideration of its tremendous consequences if
persevered in. Mr. Magg, for the purpose of being heard, then begs
to move, that you, sir, do now pass to the order of the day; and
takes that opportunity of saying, that if an honourable gentleman
whom he has in his eye, and will not demean himself by more
particularly naming (oh, oh, and cheers), supposes that he is to be
put down by clamour, that honourable gentleman - however supported
he may be, through thick and thin, by a Fellow Parishioner, with
whom he is well acquainted (cheers and counter-cheers, Mr. Magg
being invariably backed by the Rate-Payer) - will find himself
mistaken. Upon this, twenty members of our Vestry speak in
succession concerning what the two great men have meant, until it
appears, after an hour and twenty minutes, that neither of them
meant anything. Then our Vestry begins business.
We have said that, after the pattern of the real original, our
Vestry in playing at Parliament is transcendently quarrelsome. It
enjoys a personal altercation above all things. Perhaps the most
redoubtable case of this kind we have ever had - though we have had
so many that it is difficult to decide - was that on which the last
extreme solemnities passed between Mr. Tiddypot (of Gumption House)
and Captain Banger (of Wilderness Walk).
In an adjourned debate on the question whether water could be
regarded in the light of a necessary of life; respecting which
there were great differences of opinion, and many shades of
sentiment; Mr. Tiddypot, in a powerful burst of eloquence against
that hypothesis, frequently made use of the expression that such
and such a rumour had 'reached his ears.' Captain Banger,
following him, and holding that, for purposes of ablution and
refreshment, a pint of water per diem was necessary for every adult
of the lower classes, and half a pint for every child, cast
ridicule upon his address in a sparkling speech, and concluded by
saying that instead of those rumours having reached the ears of the
honourable gentleman, he rather thought the honourable gentleman's
ears must have reached the rumours, in consequence of their wellknown
length. Mr. Tiddypot immediately rose, looked the honourable
and gallant gentleman full in the face, and left the Vestry.
The excitement, at this moment painfully intense, was heightened to
an acute degree when Captain Banger rose, and also left the Vestry.
After a few moments of profound silence - one of those breathless
pauses never to be forgotten - Mr. Chib (of Tucket's Terrace, and
the father of the Vestry) rose. He said that words and looks had
passed in that assembly, replete with consequences which every
Page 131
Dickens, Charles - Reprinted Pieces
feeling mind must deplore. Time pressed. The sword was drawn, and
while he spoke the scabbard might be thrown away. He moved that
those honourable gentlemen who had left the Vestry be recalled, and
required to pledge themselves upon their honour that this affair
should go no farther. The motion being by a general union of
parties unanimously agreed to (for everybody wanted to have the
belligerents there, instead of out of sight: which was no fun at
all), Mr. Magg was deputed to recover Captain Banger, and Mr. Chib
himself to go in search of Mr. Tiddypot. The Captain was found in
a conspicuous position, surveying the passing omnibuses from the
top step of the front-door immediately adjoining the beadle's box;
overpowered by Mr. Chib (a remarkably hale old gentleman of eightytwo),
and brought back in safety.
Mr. Tiddypot and the Captain being restored to their places, and
glaring on each other, were called upon by the chair to abandon all
homicidal intentions, and give the Vestry an assurance that they
did so. Mr. Tiddypot remained profoundly silent. The Captain
likewise remained profoundly silent, saying that he was observed by
those around him to fold his arms like Napoleon Buonaparte, and to
snort in his breathing - actions but too expressive of gunpowder.
The most intense emotion now prevailed. Several members clustered
in remonstrance round the Captain, and several round Mr. Tiddypot;
but, both were obdurate. Mr. Chib then presented himself amid
tremendous cheering, and said, that not to shrink from the
discharge of his painful duty, he must now move that both
honourable gentlemen be taken into custody by the beadle, and
conveyed to the nearest police-office, there to be held to bail.
The union of parties still continuing, the motion was seconded by
Mr. Wigsby - on all usual occasions Mr. Chib's opponent - and
rapturously carried with only one dissentient voice. This was
Dogginson's, who said from his place 'Let 'em fight it out with
fistes;' but whose coarse remark was received as it merited.
The beadle now advanced along the floor of the Vestry, and beckoned
with his cocked hat to both members. Every breath was suspended.
To say that a pin might have been heard to fall, would be feebly to
express the all-absorbing interest and silence. Suddenly,
enthusiastic cheering broke out from every side of the Vestry.
Captain Banger had risen - being, in fact, pulled up by a friend on
either side, and poked up by a friend behind.
The Captain said, in a deep determined voice, that he had every
respect for that Vestry and every respect for that chair; that he
also respected the honourable gentleman of Gumpton House; but, that
he respected his honour more. Hereupon the Captain sat down,
leaving the whole Vestry much affected. Mr. Tiddypot instantly
rose, and was received with the same encouragement. He likewise
said - and the exquisite art of this orator communicated to the
observation an air of freshness and novelty - that he too had every
respect for that Vestry; that he too had every respect for that
chair. That he too respected the honourable and gallant gentleman
of Wilderness Walk; but, that he too respected his honour more.
'Hows'ever,' added the distinguished Vestryman, 'if the honourable
and gallant gentleman's honour is never more doubted and damaged
than it is by me, he's all right.' Captain Banger immediately
started up again, and said that after
those observations, involving
as they did ample concession to his honour without compromising the
honour of the honourable gentleman, he would be wanting in honour
as well as in generosity, if he did not at once repudiate all
intention of wounding the honour of the honourable gentleman, or
saying anything dishonourable to his honourable feelings. These
Page 132
Dickens, Charles - Reprinted Pieces
observations were repeatedly interrupted by bursts of cheers. Mr.
Tiddypot retorted that he well knew the spirit of honour by which
the honourable and gallant gentleman was so honourably animated,
and that he accepted an honourable explanation, offered in a way
that did him honour; but, he trusted that the Vestry would consider
that his (Mr. Tiddypot's) honour had imperatively demanded of him
that painful course which he had felt it due to his honour to
adopt. The Captain and Mr. Tiddypot then touched their hats to one
another across the Vestry, a great many times, and it is thought
that these proceedings (reported to the extent of several columns
in next Sunday's paper) will bring them in as church-wardens next
year.
All this was strictly after the pattern of the real original, and
so are the whole of our Vestry's proceedings. In all their
debates, they are laudably imitative of the windy and wordy slang
of the real original, and of nothing that is better in it. They
have head-strong party animosities, without any reference to the
merits of questions; they tack a surprising amount of debate to a
very little business; they set more store by forms than they do by
substances: - all very like the real original! It has been doubted
in our borough, whether our Vestry is of any utility; but our own
conclusion is, that it is of the use to the Borough that a
diminishing mirror is to a painter, as enabling it to perceive in a
small focus of absurdity all the surface defects of the real
original.
OUR BORE
IT is unnecessary to say that we keep a bore. Everybody does.
But, the bore whom we have the pleasure and honour of enumerating
among our particular friends, is such a generic bore, and has so
many traits (as it appears to us) in common with the great bore
family, that we are tempted to make him the subject of the present
notes. May he be generally accepted!
Our bore is admitted on all hands to be a good-hearted man. He may
put fifty people out of temper, but he keeps his own. He preserves
a sickly solid smile upon his face, when other faces are ruffled by
the perfection he has attained in his art, and has an equable voice
which never travels out of one key or rises above one pitch. His
manner is a manner of tranquil interest. None of his opinions are
startling. Among his deepest-rooted convictions, it may be
mentioned that he considers the air of England damp, and holds that
our lively neighbours - he always calls the French our lively
neighbours - have the advantage of us in that particular.
Nevertheless he is unable to forget that John Bull is John Bull all
the world over, and that England with all her faults is England
still.
Our bore has travelled. He could not possibly be a complete bore
without having travelled. He rarely speaks of his travels without
introducing, sometimes on his own plan of construction, morsels of
the language of the country - which he always translates. You
cannot name to him any little remote town in France, Italy,
Germany, or Switzerland but he knows it well; stayed there a
fortnight under peculiar circumstances. And talking of that little
place, perhaps you know a statue over an old fountain, up a little
court, which is the second - no, the third - stay - yes, the third
turning on the right, after you come out of the Post-house, going
Page 133
Dickens, Charles - Reprinted Pieces
up the hill towards the market? You DON'T know that statue? Nor
that fountain? You surprise him! They are not usually seen by
travellers (most extraordinary, he has never yet met with a single
traveller who knew them, except one German, the most intelligent
man he ever met in his life!) but he thought that YOU would have
been the man to find them out. And then he describes them, in a
circumstantial lecture half an hour long, generally delivered
behind a door which is constantly being opened from the other side;
and implores you, if you ever revisit that place, now do go and
look at that statue and fountain!
Our bore, in a similar manner, being in Italy, made a discovery of
a dreadful picture, which has been the terror of a large portion of
the civilized world ever since. We have seen the liveliest men
paralysed by it, across a broad dining-table. He was lounging
among the mountains, sir, basking in the mellow influences of the
climate, when he came to UNA PICCOLA CHIESA - a little church - or
perhaps it would be more correct to say UNA PICCOLISSIMA CAPPELLA -
the smallest chapel you can possibly imagine - and walked in.
There was nobody inside but a CIECO - a blind man - saying his
prayers, and a VECCHIO PADRE - old friar-rattling a money-box.
But, above the head of that friar, and immediately to the right of
the altar as you enter - to the right of the altar? No. To the
left of the altar as you enter - or say near the centre - there
hung a painting (subject, Virgin and Child) so divine in its
expression, so pure and yet so warm and rich in its tone, so fresh
in its touch, at once so glowing in its colour and so statuesque in
its repose, that our bore cried out in ecstasy, 'That's the finest
picture in Italy!' And so it is, sir. There is no doubt of it.
It is astonishing that that picture is so little known. Even the
painter is uncertain. He afterwards took Blumb, of the Royal
Academy (it is to be observed that our bore takes none but eminent
people to see sights, and that none but eminent people take our
bore), and you never saw a man so affected in your life as Blumb
was. He cried like a child! And then our bore begins his
description in detail - for all this is introductory - and
strangles his hearers with the folds of the purple drapery.
By an equally fortunate conjunction of accidental circumstances, it
happened that when our bore was in Switzerland, he discovered a
Valley, of that superb character, that Chamouni is not to be
mentioned in the same breath with it. This is how it was, sir. He
was travelling on a mule - had been in the saddle some days - when,
as he and the guide, Pierre Blanquo: whom you may know, perhaps? -
our bore is sorry you don't, because he's the only guide deserving
of the name - as he and Pierre were descending, towards evening,
among those everlasting snows, to the little village of La Croix,
our bore observed a mountain track turning off sharply to the
right. At first he was uncertain whether it WAS a track at all,
and in fact, he said to Pierre, 'QU'EST QUE C'EST DONC, MON AMI? -
What is that, my friend?
'Ou, MONSIEUR!' said Pierre - 'Where,
sir?' ' La! - there!' said our bore. 'MONSIEUR, CE N'EST RIEN DE
TOUT - sir, it's nothing at all,' said Pierre. 'ALLONS! - Make
haste. IL VA NEIGET - it's going to snow!' But, our bore was not
to be done in that way, and he firmly replied, 'I wish to go in
that direction - JE VEUX Y ALLER. I am bent upon it - JE SUIS
DETERMINE. EN AVANT! - go ahead!' In consequence of which
firmness on our bore's part, they proceeded, sir, during two hours
of evening, and three of moonlight (they waited in a cavern till
the moon was up), along the slenderest track, overhanging
perpendicularly the most awful gulfs, until they arrived, by a
winding descent, in a valley that possibly, and he may say
probably, was never visited by any stranger before. What a valley!
Mountains piled on mountains, avalanches stemmed by pine forests;
Page 134
Dickens, Charles - Reprinted Pieces
waterfalls, chalets, mountain-torrents, wooden bridges, every
conceivable picture of Swiss scenery! The whole village turned out
to receive our bore. The peasant girls kissed him, the men shook
hands with him, one old lady of benevolent appearance wept upon his
breast. He was conducted, in a primitive triumph, to the little
inn: where he was taken ill next morning, and lay for six weeks,
attended by the amiable hostess (the same benevolent old lady who
had wept over night) and her charming daughter, Fanchette. It is
nothing to say that they were attentive to him; they doted on him.
They called him in their simple way, L'ANGE ANGLAIS - the English
Angel. When our bore left the valley, there was not a dry eye in
the place; some of the people attended him for miles. He begs and
entreats of you as a personal favour, that if you ever go to
Switzerland again (you have mentioned that your last visit was your
twenty-third), you will go to that valley, and see Swiss scenery
for the first time. And if you want really to know the pastoral
people of Switzerland, and to understand them, mention, in that
valley, our bore's name!
Our bore has a crushing brother in the East, who, somehow or other,
was admitted to smoke pipes with Mehemet Ali, and instantly became
an authority on the whole range of Eastern matters, from Haroun
Alraschid to the present Sultan. He is in the habit of expressing
mysterious opinions on this wide range of subjects, but on