Page 32 - PBCMarch2012

Pickwick Bicycle Club Magazine. Volume 9 No.1 March 2012
32
From the Archives Written by the our lamented Past President “The Shepherd.” July 2004
EXTRACT OF A PREVIOUSLY UNPUBLISHED REVISION OF PART OF
CHAPTER X11 OF THE PICKWICK PAPERS
Mr Pickwick had been attempting to tell Mrs Bardell that he intended to engage Sam Weller as
his manservant, but he had expressed himself badly, and she had interpreted his words as a
proposal of marriage.
"Oh you kind, good, playful dear" said Mrs Bardell, and without more ado, she rose from
her chair, flung her arms around Mr.Pickwick's neck, with a cataract of tears, and a
chorus of sobs.

"Bless my soul!" cried the astonished Mr.Pickwick "Mrs Bardell, my good woman-dear me,
what a situation -prey consider - Mrs Bardell, don't - if anybody should come -" "Oh, let them
come" exclaimed Mrs Bardell frantically, "I'll never leave you - dear, good, kind soul", and, with
these words, Mrs Bardell clung the tighter.

"Mercy upon me" said Mr Pickwick, struggling violently, "Don't, don't, there's a good creature,
don't!". But entreaty and remonstrance were alike unavailing for Mrs Bardell had fainted in Mr
Pickwick's arms.
(In the original version, Mr Pickwick’s friends now enter. There follows here the revision.)

Mr Pickwick was dumbfounded. He had led a sheltered life. His experiences of women had
been few, and those of fainting women, none. He knew not what to do. His first thought was to
lay her down somewhere, and, seeing that the door to his bedchamber was open, he half-
carried, half-dragged her there, and laid her gently on his bed. He noticed that, as he had been
doing this, her slippers had come off, and her toes were twitching, as if in anticipation.

He pulled himself together, and resolved he must be a man of action. He removed his jacket
and cravat, put his gold watch on the bedside table, and turned his attention to the stricken
lady. He noticed that her bosom was heaving, and thought she must be short of air. He undid
the top button of her bodice, and as he did so, her shoulders jerked back. Her figure was
buxom, and, as she moved the remainder of the buttons flew open, exposing to Mr Pickwick's
fascinated gaze, a sight he had never before seen.

Mr Pickwick was at a loss, with wild and uncontrollable feeling rising within him. At his public
school, his games master had advised him that, when these arose, a country run or a cold
shower would effect a cure, but, in the circumstances in which he was placed, neither of these
were possible.

Mrs Bardell groaned and fluttered her eyelids. She grasped his arm, and cried out. "Oh,
Samuel, Samuel I am yours! Be gentle with me!" He was torn between his feelings as a man,
and his duty as a gentleman to be true to his principles as the Chairman of the Club. The two
forces struggled within him, and his appetites as a man won. He recalled that he had ordered
steak and kidney pudding for his supper, and, if the lady was delayed in dalliance, this, and the
vegetable that went with them, might be overcooked.

So he made his excuses, collected his watch and his jacket, and left. Mrs Bardell remained on
the bed, consoled herself, and plotted her revenge. Her friend Mrs Cluppins cleaned the
offices of a firm of Solicitors, Dobson and Fogg. She would talk to her about it, and Mr Pickwick
would live to regret spurning the treasure he had been offered.