The Pickwick Papers - Chapter 57
IN WHICH THE PICKWICK CLUB IS FINALLY DISSOLVED, AND EVERYTHING CONCLUDED TO THE SATISFACTION OF
For a whole week after the happy arrival of Mr. Winkle from Birmingham, Mr. Pickwick and Sam Weller were from
home all day long, only returning just in time for dinner, and then wearing an air of mystery and importance quite
foreign to their natures. It was evident that very grave and eventful proceedings were on foot; but various
surmises were afloat, respecting their precise character. Some (among whom was Mr. Tupman) were disposed to think
that Mr. Pickwick contemplated a matrimonial alliance; but this idea the ladies most strenuously repudiated. Others
rather inclined to the belief that he had projected some distant tour, and was at present occupied in effecting the
preliminary arrangements; but this again was stoutly denied by Sam himself, who had unequivocally stated, when
cross-examined by Mary, that no new journeys were to be undertaken. At length, when the brains of the whole party
had been racked for six long days, by unavailing speculation, it was unanimously resolved that Mr. Pickwick should
be called upon to explain his conduct, and to state distinctly why he had thus absented himself from the society of
his admiring friends.
With this view, Mr. Wardle invited the full circle to dinner at the Adelphi; and the decanters having been
thrice sent round, opened the business.
'We are all anxious to know,' said the old gentleman, 'what we have done to offend you, and to induce you to
desert us and devote yourself to these solitary walks.'
'Are you?' said Mr. Pickwick. 'It is singular enough that I had intended to volunteer a full explanation this
very day; so, if you will give me another glass of wine, I will satisfy your curiosity.'
The decanters passed from hand to hand with unwonted briskness, and Mr. Pickwick, looking round on the faces of
his friends with a cheerful smile, proceeded-- 'All the changes that have taken place among us,' said Mr. Pickwick,
'I mean the marriage that HAS taken place, and the marriage that WILL take place, with the changes they involve,
rendered it necessary for me to think, soberly and at once, upon my future plans. I determined on retiring to some
quiet, pretty neighbourhood in the vicinity of London; I saw a house which exactly suited my fancy; I have taken it
and furnished it. It is fully prepared for my reception, and I intend entering upon it at once, trusting that I may
yet live to spend many quiet years in peaceful retirement, cheered through life by the society of my friends, and
followed in death by their affectionate remembrance.'
Here Mr. Pickwick paused, and a low murmur ran round the table.
'The house I have taken,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'is at Dulwich. It has a large garden, and is situated in one of
the most pleasant spots near London. It has been fitted up with every attention to substantial comfort; perhaps to
a little elegance besides; but of that you shall judge for yourselves. Sam accompanies me there. I have engaged, on
Perker's representation, a housekeeper--a very old one--and such other servants as she thinks I shall require. I
propose to consecrate this little retreat, by having a ceremony in which I take a great interest, performed there.
I wish, if my friend Wardle entertains no objection, that his daughter should be married from my new house, on the
day I take possession of it. The happiness of young people,' said Mr. Pickwick, a little moved, 'has ever been the
chief pleasure of my life. It will warm my heart to witness the happiness of those friends who are dearest to me,
beneath my own roof.'
Mr. Pickwick paused again: Emily and Arabella sobbed audibly.
'I have communicated, both personally and by letter, with the club,' resumed Mr. Pickwick, 'acquainting them
with my intention. During our long absence, it has suffered much from internal dissentions; and the withdrawal of
my name, coupled with this and other circumstances, has occasioned its dissolution. The Pickwick Club exists no
'I shall never regret,' said Mr. Pickwick in a low voice, 'I shall never regret having devoted the greater part
of two years to mixing with different varieties and shades of human character, frivolous as my pursuit of novelty
may have appeared to many. Nearly the whole of my previous life having been devoted to business and the pursuit of
wealth, numerous scenes of which I had no previous conception have dawned upon me--I hope to the enlargement of my
mind, and the improvement of my understanding. If I have done but little good, I trust I have done less harm, and
that none of my adventures will be other than a source of amusing and pleasant recollection to me in the decline of
life. God bless you all!'
With these words, Mr. Pickwick filled and drained a bumper with a trembling hand; and his eyes moistened as his
friends rose with one accord, and pledged him from their hearts.
There were few preparatory arrangements to be made for the marriage of Mr. Snodgrass. As he had neither father
nor mother, and had been in his minority a ward of Mr. Pickwick's, that gentleman was perfectly well acquainted
with his possessions and prospects. His account of both was quite satisfactory to Wardle --as almost any other
account would have been, for the good old gentleman was overflowing with Hilarity and kindness--and a handsome
portion having been bestowed upon Emily, the marriage was fixed to take place on the fourth day from that time
--the suddenness of which preparations reduced three dressmakers and a tailor to the extreme verge of insanity.
Getting post-horses to the carriage, old Wardle started off, next day, to bring his mother back to town.
Communicating his intelligence to the old lady with characteristic impetuosity, she instantly fainted away; but
being promptly revived, ordered the brocaded silk gown to be packed up forthwith, and proceeded to relate some
circumstances of a similar nature attending the marriage of the eldest daughter of Lady Tollimglower, deceased,
which occupied three hours in the recital, and were not half finished at last.
Mrs. Trundle had to be informed of all the mighty preparations that were making in London; and, being in a
delicate state of health, was informed thereof through Mr. Trundle, lest the news should be too much for her; but
it was not too much for her, inasmuch as she at once wrote off to Muggleton, to order a new cap and a black satin
gown, and moreover avowed her determination of being present at the ceremony. Hereupon, Mr. Trundle called in the
doctor, and the doctor said Mrs. Trundle ought to know best how she felt herself, to which Mrs. Trundle replied
that she felt herself quite equal to it, and that she had made up her mind to go; upon which the doctor, who was a
wise and discreet doctor, and knew what was good for himself, as well as for other people, said that perhaps if
Mrs. Trundle stopped at home, she might hurt herself more by fretting, than by going, so perhaps she had better go.
And she did go; the doctor with great attention sending in half a dozen of medicine, to be drunk upon the road.
In addition to these points of distraction, Wardle was intrusted with two small letters to two small young
ladies who were to act as bridesmaids; upon the receipt of which, the two young ladies were driven to despair by
having no 'things' ready for so important an occasion, and no time to make them in--a circumstance which appeared
to afford the two worthy papas of the two small young ladies rather a feeling of satisfaction than otherwise.
However, old frocks were trimmed, and new bonnets made, and the young ladies looked as well as could possibly have
been expected of them. And as they cried at the subsequent ceremony in the proper places, and trembled at the right
times, they acquitted themselves to the admiration of all beholders. How the two poor relations ever reached
London--whether they walked, or got behind coaches, or procured lifts in wagons, or carried each other by turns--is
uncertain; but there they were, before Wardle; and the very first people that knocked at the door of Mr. Pickwick's
house, on the bridal morning, were the two poor relations, all smiles and shirt collar.
They were welcomed heartily though, for riches or poverty had no influence on Mr. Pickwick; the new servants
were all alacrity and readiness; Sam was in a most unrivalled state of high spirits and excitement; Mary was
glowing with beauty and smart ribands.
The bridegroom, who had been staying at the house for two or three days previous, sallied forth gallantly to
Dulwich Church to meet the bride, attended by Mr. Pickwick, Ben Allen, Bob Sawyer, and Mr. Tupman; with Sam Weller
outside, having at his button-hole a white favour, the gift of his lady-love, and clad in a new and gorgeous suit
of livery invented for the occasion. They were met by the Wardles, and the Winkles, and the bride and bridesmaids,
and the Trundles; and the ceremony having been performed, the coaches rattled back to Mr. Pickwick's to breakfast,
where little Mr. Perker already awaited them.
Here, all the light clouds of the more solemn part of the proceedings passed away; every face shone forth
joyously; and nothing was to be heard but congratulations and commendations. Everything was so beautiful! The lawn
in front, the garden behind, the miniature conservatory, the dining-room, the drawing-room, the bedrooms, the
smoking-room, and, above all, the study, with its pictures and easy-chairs, and odd cabinets, and queer tables, and
books out of number, with a large cheerful window opening upon a pleasant lawn and commanding a pretty landscape,
dotted here and there with little houses almost hidden by the trees; and then the curtains, and the carpets, and
the chairs, and the sofas! Everything was so beautiful, so compact, so neat, and in such exquisite taste, said
everybody, that there really was no deciding what to admire most.
And in the midst of all this, stood Mr. Pickwick, his countenance lighted up with smiles, which the heart of no
man, woman, or child, could resist: himself the happiest of the group: shaking hands, over and over again, with the
same people, and when his own hands were not so employed, rubbing them with pleasure: turning round in a different
direction at every fresh expression of gratification or curiosity, and inspiring everybody with his looks of
gladness and delight.
Breakfast is announced. Mr. Pickwick leads the old lady (who has been very eloquent on the subject of Lady
Tollimglower) to the top of a long table; Wardle takes the bottom; the friends arrange themselves on either side;
Sam takes his station behind his master's chair; the laughter and talking cease; Mr. Pickwick, having said grace,
pauses for an instant and looks round him. As he does so, the tears roll down his cheeks, in the fullness of his
Let us leave our old friend in one of those moments of unmixed happiness, of which, if we seek them, there are
ever some, to cheer our transitory existence here. There are dark shadows on the earth, but its lights are stronger
in the contrast. Some men, like bats or owls, have better eyes for the darkness than for the light. We, who have no
such optical powers, are better pleased to take our last parting look at the visionary companions of many solitary
hours, when the brief sunshine of the world is blazing full upon them.
It is the fate of most men who mingle with the world, and attain even the prime of life, to make many real
friends, and lose them in the course of nature. It is the fate of all authors or chroniclers to create imaginary
friends, and lose them in the course of art. Nor is this the full extent of their misfortunes; for they are
required to furnish an account of them besides.
In compliance with this custom--unquestionably a bad one --we subjoin a few biographical words, in relation to
the party at Mr. Pickwick's assembled.
Mr. and Mrs. Winkle, being fully received into favour by the old gentleman, were shortly afterwards installed in
a newly- built house, not half a mile from Mr. Pickwick's. Mr. Winkle, being engaged in the city as agent or town
correspondent of his father, exchanged his old costume for the ordinary dress of Englishmen, and presented all the
external appearance of a civilised Christian ever afterwards.
Mr. and Mrs. Snodgrass settled at Dingley Dell, where they purchased and cultivated a small farm, more for
occupation than profit. Mr. Snodgrass, being occasionally abstracted and melancholy, is to this day reputed a great
poet among his friends and acquaintance, although we do not find that he has ever written anything to encourage the
belief. There are many celebrated characters, literary, philosophical, and otherwise, who hold a high reputation on
a similar tenure.
Mr. Tupman, when his friends married, and Mr. Pickwick settled, took lodgings at Richmond, where he has ever
since resided. 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 ladies of single condition, who reside in the vicinity. He
has never proposed again.
Mr. Bob Sawyer, having previously passed through the GAZETTE, passed over to Bengal, accompanied by Mr. Benjamin
Allen; both gentlemen having received surgical appointments from the East India Company. They each had the yellow
fever fourteen times, and then resolved to try a little abstinence; since which period, they have been doing well.
Mrs. Bardell let lodgings to many conversable single gentlemen, with great profit, but never brought any more
actions for breach of promise of marriage. Her attorneys, Messrs. Dodson & Fogg, continue in business, from
which they realise a large income, and in which they are universally considered among the sharpest of the
Sam Weller kept his word, and remained unmarried, for two years. The old housekeeper dying at the end of that
time, Mr. Pickwick promoted Mary to the situation, on condition of her marrying Mr. Weller at once, which she did
without a murmur. From the circumstance of two sturdy little boys having been repeatedly seen at the gate of the
back garden, there is reason to suppose that Sam has some family.
The elder Mr. Weller drove a coach for twelve months, but being afflicted with the gout, was compelled to
retire. The contents of the pocket-book had been so well invested for him, however, by Mr. Pickwick, that he had a
handsome independence to retire on, upon which he still lives at an excellent public-house near Shooter's Hill,
where he is quite reverenced as an oracle, boasting very much of his intimacy with Mr. Pickwick, and retaining a
most unconquerable aversion to widows.
Mr. Pickwick himself continued to reside in his new house, employing his leisure hours in arranging the
memoranda which he afterwards presented to the secretary of the once famous club, or in hearing Sam Weller read
aloud, with such remarks as suggested themselves to his mind, which never failed to afford Mr. Pickwick great
amusement. He was much troubled at first, by the numerous applications made to him by Mr. Snodgrass, Mr. Winkle,
and Mr. Trundle, to act as godfather to their offspring; but he has become used to it now, and officiates as a
matter of course. He never had occasion to regret his bounty to Mr. Jingle; for both that person and Job Trotter
became, in time, worthy members of society, although they have always steadily objected to return to the scenes of
their old haunts and temptations. Mr. Pickwick is somewhat infirm now; but he retains all his former juvenility of
spirit, and may still be frequently seen, contemplating the pictures in the Dulwich Gallery, or enjoying a walk
about the pleasant neighbourhood on a fine day. He is known by all the poor people about, who never fail to take
their hats off, as he passes, with great respect. The children idolise him, and so indeed does the whole
neighbourhood. Every year he repairs to a large family merry-making at Mr. Wardle's; on this, as on all other
occasions, he is invariably attended by the faithful Sam, between whom and his master there exists a steady and
reciprocal attachment which nothing but death will terminate.