III.—Horses and Driving in “Pickwick.”
For one who so modestly disclaimed all knowledge of sporting and country tastes, Boz shows a very familiar acquaintance with horses and their ways. He has introduced a number of these animals whose points are all distinctly emphasized: a number of persons are shown to be interested in horses, who exhibit their knowledge of and sympathise with the animals, a knowledge and sympathy which is but a reflection of his own. The cunning hand that could so discriminate between shades of humorous characters would not be at a loss to analyse traits of equine nature. There is the cab horse, said to be forty years old and kept in the shafts for two or three weeks at a time, which is depicted in Seymour’s plate. How excellently drawn are the two Rochester steeds: one “an immense brown horse, displaying great symmetry of bone,” which was to be driven by Mr. Pickwick, and Mr. Winkle’s riding animal, another immense horse “apparently a near relative of the animal in the chaise.” “He don’t shy, does he?” The ostler guaranteed him quiet—“a hinfant in arms might drive him”—“He wouldn’t shy if he met a whole waggon-load of monkeys with
their tails burnt off.” A far more original illustration than anything used by the Wellers, whose special form that was. I pass over the details of the driving and the riding which show a perfect knowledge of animals, such as “the tall quadruped.” Nothing is more droll than the description of the loathing with which the party came to regard the animal they were compelled to lead about all day. Then we have the post horses and all connected with them. There is Tom Smart’s “vixenish mare,” quite an intelligent character in her way. The account of the coach drive down to Muggleton shows admirable observation of the ways of the drivers.
Ben Allen’s aunt had her private fly, painted a sad green colour drawn by a “chubby sort of brown horse.” I pass over the ghostly mailcoach horses that flew through the night in “The Story of the Bagman’s Uncle,” flowing-maned, black horses. There are many post horses figuring in Mr. Pickwick’s journey from Bristol to Birmingham and thence home; horses in the rain and out of it.
Namby’s horse was “a bay, a well-looking animal enough, but with something of a flash and dog-fighting air about him.” The horses which took the hackney coach to the Fleet jolted along as hackney coaches usually do. “The horses ‘went better,’ the driver said, ‘when they had anything before them.’ They must have gone at a most extraordinary pace when there was nothing.” Visiting the Fleet with Mrs. Weller and the deputy Shepherd, Mr. Weller drove up from Dorking with the old piebald in his chaise cart, which, after long delay, was brought out for the return journey. “If he stands at livery much longer he’ll stand at nothin’ as we go back.” There is a capital scene at the opening of Chapter XLVI., when the “cabrioilet” was drawing up at Mrs. Bardell’s, and where so much that is dramatic is “got out” of such a simple incident between the contending directions.