There are many antiquated allusions in Pickwick—which have often exercised the ingenuity of the curious. Sam’s “Fanteegs,” has been given up in despair—as though there were no solution—yet, Professor Skeat, an eminent authority, has long since furnished it. [34]
“Through the button hole”—a slang term for the mouth, has been well “threshed out”—as it is called. Of “My Prooshian Blue,” as his son affectedly styled his parent, Mr. Lang correctly suggests the solution, that the term came of George IV’s intention of changing
the uniform of the Army to Blue. But this has been said before.
Boz in his Pickwickian names was fond of disguising their sense to the eye, though not to the ear. Thus Lady Snuphanuph, looks a grotesque, but somewhat plausible name—snuff-enough—a further indication of the manners and customs. So with Lord Mutanhed, i.e. “Muttonhead.” Mallard, Serjeant Snubbin’s Clerk, I have suspected, may have been some Mr. Duck—whom “Boz” had known—in that line.
“A MONUMENTAL PICKWICK.”
The fruitfulness of Pickwick, and amazing prolificness, that is one of its marvels. It is regularly “worked on,” like Dante or Shakespeare. The Pickwickian Library is really a wonder. It is intelligible how a work like Boswell’s “Johnson,” full of allusions and names of persons who have lived, spoken, and written, should give rise to explanation and commentaries; but a work of mere imagination, it would be thought, could not furnish such openings. As we have just seen, Pickwick and the other characters are so real, so artfully blended with existing usages, manners, and localities, as to become actual living things.
Mere panegyric of one’s favourite is idle. So I lately took a really effective way of proving the surprising fertility of the work and of its power of engendering speculation and illustration.
I set about collecting all that has been done, written, and drawn on the subject during these sixty years past, together with all those lighter manifestations of popularity which surely indicate “the form and pressure” of its influence. The result is now before me, and all but fills a small room. When set in proper order and bound, it will fill over thirty great quartos—“huge armfuls” as Elia has it. In short, it is a “Monumental Pickwick.”
The basis of The Text is of course, the original edition of 1836. There are specimens of the titles and a few pages of every known edition; the first cheap or popular one; the “Library” edition; the “Charles Dickens” ditto; the Edition de Luxe; the “Victoria”: “Jubilee,” edited by C. Dickens the younger; editions at a shilling and at sixpence; the edition sold for one penny; the new “Gadshill,” edited by Andrew Lang; with the “Roxburghe,” edited by F. Kitton, presently to be published. The Foreign Editions in
English; four American editions, two of Philadelphia, and two of New York; the Tauchnitz (German) and Baudry (French); the curious Calcutta edition; with one of the most interesting editions, viz., the one published at Launceston in Van Diemen’s Land in the year 1839, that is before the name of the Colony was changed. The publisher speaks feelingly of the enormous difficulties he had to encounter, and he boasts, with a certain pride, that it is “the largest publication that has issued from either the New South Wales or the Tasmanian Press.” Not only this, but the whole of the work, printing, engraving, and binding, was executed in the Colony. He had to be content with lithography for the plates, and indeed, could only manage a selection of twenty of the best. He says, too, that even in England, lithography is found a process of considerable difficulty. They are executed in a very rough and imperfect way, and not very faithfully by an artist who signs himself “Tiz.” The poor,