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Updated: June 19, 2025
The thing about any figure of Dickens, about Sam Weller or Dick Swiveller, or Micawber, or Bagstock, or Trabb's boy, the thing about each one of these persons is that he cannot be exhausted. A Dickens character hits you first on the nose and then in the waistcoat, and then in the eye and then in the waistcoat again, with the blinding rapidity of some battering engine.
There remains one thing to be added to this attempt to exhibit Dickens in the growing and changing lights of our time. But I wish that social reformers would more often remember that they are imposing their rules not on dots and numbers, but on Bob Sawyer and Tim Linkinwater, on Mrs. Lirriper and Dr. Marigold. I wish Mr. Sidney Webb would shut his eyes until he sees Sam Weller.
'To be sure, replied Mrs. Cluppins, eagerly catching at the idea; 'walk in, young man; and shut the street door first, please. Mr. Weller immediately took the hint; and presenting himself in the parlour, explained his business to Mrs. Bardell thus
Gamp; a sort of half-brother to Sam Weller; and an alternately shrieking and apologetic valetudinarian, who was, perhaps, the most whimsical of them all. Nothing more, however, need here be said in regard to Charles Dickens's share, either in these performances for the Guild or in the other strictly private theatricals.
Bardell had got company. Mr. Weller knocked at the door, and after a pretty long interval occupied by the party without, in whistling a tune, and by the party within, in persuading a refractory flat candle to allow itself to be lighted a pair of small boots pattered over the floor-cloth, and Master Bardell presented himself. 'Well, young townskip, said Sam, 'how's mother?
He suffered from low spirits, and Luther repeatedly sent him from Coburg comfort and good advice. The little Hans had now begun his lessons, and Weller praised him as a painstaking pupil. Luther's well-known letter to him was dated from Coburg, June 19.
Mephistophiles is not personally disagreeable, and is exceedingly well-bred in society, I am told; and he should come tete-a-tete with Mrs. Rawdon Crawley. Spenser should escort his Faerie Queen, who would preside at the tea-table. Mr. Samuel Weller I should ask as Lord of Misrule, and Dr. Johnson as the Abbot of Unreason. I would suggest to Major Dobbin to accompany Mrs.
Pickwick; 'very true; I can write to Bury, and tell them to meet me at Ipswich. We will go with you. But don't hurry away, Mr. Weller; won't you take anything? 'You're wery good, Sir, replied Mr. W., stopping short; 'perhaps a small glass of brandy to drink your health, and success to Sammy, Sir, wouldn't be amiss. 'Certainly not, replied Mr. Pickwick.
It was quite unnecessary to call him, for Samuel Weller stepped briskly into the box the instant his name was pronounced. "What's your name, sir?" inquired the judge. "Sam Weller, my lord." "Do you spell it with a 'V or a 'W?" inquired the judge. "That depends upon the taste and fancy of the speller, my lord," replied Sam, "but I spells it with a 'V."
Night afore he was going to drive up, committee on t' other side sends for him quietly, and away he goes vith the messenger, who shows him in; large room lots of gen'l'm'n heaps of papers, pens and ink, and all that 'ere. "Ah, Mr. Weller," says the gen'l'm'n in the chair, "glad to see you, sir; how are you?" "Wery well, thank 'ee, Sir," says my father; "I hope you're pretty middlin," says he.
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