Pickwickian Studies

by Percy Fitzgerald

III.—Tupman

Tupman’s relations to Mr. Pickwick were somewhat peculiar; he was elderly—about Mr. Pickwick’s age—whereas Winkle and Snodgrass were young fellows under Mr. Pickwick’s guardianship. Over them he could exercise despotic authority; which he did, and secured obedience. It was difficult to do this in the case of his contemporary, Tupman, who naturally resented being “sat upon.” In the incident of the Fête at Mrs. Leo Hunter’s, and the Brigand’s dress—“the two-inch tail,” Mr. Pickwick was rather insulting and injudicious, gibing at and ridiculing his friend on the exhibition of his corpulence, so that Tupman, stung to fury, was about to assault him. Mr. Pickwick had to apologise, but it is clear the insult rankled; and it would appear that Tupman was never afterwards much in the confidence of his leader, and, for that matter, in the confidence of his author. Boz, either consciously or unconsciously, felt this. Tupman, too, never seems to have got over the figure he “cut” in the spinster aunt business, and the loss of general respect.

Still he submitted to be taken about under Mr. Pickwick’s

patronage, but soon the mutual irritation broke out. The occasion was the latter’s putting on speckled stockings for the dance at Manor Farm. “You in silk stockings,” exclaimed Tupman, jocosely; a most natural, harmless remark, considering that Mr. Pickwick invariably wore his gaiters at evening parties. But the remark was hotly resented, and challenged. “You see nothing extraordinary in the stockings as stockings, I trust, sir?” Of course his friend said “No, certainly not,” which was the truth, but Mr. Pickwick put aside the obvious meaning. Mr. Tupman “walked away,” wishing to avoid another altercation, afraid to trust himself; and Mr. Pickwick, proud of having once more “put him down,” assumed his “customary benign expression.” This did not promise well.

In all the Manor Farm jollity, we hear little or nothing of Tupman, who seems to have been thought a cypher. No doubt he felt that the girls could never look at him without a smile—thinking of the spinster aunt. In the picture of the scene, we find this “old Buck” in the foreground, on one knee, trying to pickup a pocket handkerchief and holding a young lady by the hand. Snodgrass and his lady are behind; Winkle and his Arabella on the other side; Trundle and his lady at the fire. Then who was Tupman’s young woman? She is not mentioned in the text, yet is evidently a prominent personage—one of the family. At Ipswich, he was crammed into the sedan chair with his leader—two very stout gentlemen—which could not have increased their good humour, though Tupman assisted him from within to stand up and address the mob. We are told that “all Mr. Tupman’s entreaties to have the lid of the vehicle closed” were unattended to. He felt the ridicule of his position—a sedan chair carried along, and a stout man speaking. This must have produced friction. Then there was the sense of injustice in being charged with aiding and abetting his leader, which Mr. Pickwick did not attempt to clear him from. When Mr. Pickwick fell through the ice, Tupman, instead of rendering help, ran off to Manor Farm with the news of the accident.

Then the whole party went down to Bath and, during their stay there, we have not a word of Tupman. He came to see his friend in the

Fleet—with the others of course. But now for the remarkable thing. On Mr. Pickwick’s happy release and when every one was rejoining, Wardle invited the whole party to a family dinner at the Osborne. There were Snodgrass, Winkle, Perker even, but no Tupman! Winkle and his wife were at the “George and Vulture.” Why not send to Tupman as well. No one perhaps thought of him—he had taken no interest in the late exciting adventures, had not been of the least help to anybody—a selfish old bachelor. When Mr. Pickwick had absented himself looking for his Dulwich house, it is pointed out with marked emphasis that certain folk—“among whom was Mr. Tupman”—maliciously suggested that he was busy looking for a wife! Neither Winkle nor Snodgrass started this hypothesis, but Tupman. He, however, was at Dulwich for Winkle’s marriage, and had a seat on the Pickwick coach. In later days, we learn that the Snodgrasses settled themselves at Dingley Dell so as to be near the family—the Winkles, at Dulwich, to be near Mr. Pickwick, both showing natural affection. The selfish Tupman, thinking of nobody but himself, settled at Richmond where he showed himself on the Terrace with a youthful and jaunty air, “trying to attract the elderly single ladies of condition.” All the others kept in contact with their chief, asking him to be godfather, &c. But we have not a word of Tupman. It is likely, with natures such as his, that he never forgot the insulting remark about his corpulence. That is the way with such vain creatures.

Boz, I believe, had none of these speculations positively before him, but he was led by the logic of his story. He had to follow his characters and their development; they did not follow him.