place. He went to look at the old theatre, and reveals to us how it brought back to him a number of reminiscences, which shows that he was much associated with stage matters when a youth, for he describes Richard III. and Macbeth all “cast” and mounted exactly as Mr. Crummles would have mounted them. “There was Richard in a very uncomfortable wig, and sleeping in war time on a sofa that was much too short for him, and his conscience fearfully troubled his boots.” There was the lovely young woman, “who went out gleaning, in a narrow, white muslin apron, with five beautiful bars of five different colours across it. The witches bore an awful resemblance to the Thanes and other inhabitants of Scotland; while the good King Duncan couldn’t rest in his grave, but was constantly coming out of it and calling himself somebody else.” These are all Crummles touches, only he refrained from going again over the old ground. But one point further favours the theory—he recalls his alarm when Richard in his terrific combat was “backing up against the stage box.” He was in the stage box then, and therefore a privileged person at the theatre. His uncle, “Dr. Slammer,” no doubt was thus complimented as being “in Her Majesty’s service.” “Of course,” he goes on, “the town had shrunk fearfully since I was a child there.”
The description of the outlaw drama which Nicholas Nickleby saw on the night of his arrival is exactly in the key of the account of the performance of “Richard III.” just given: also the account of the London manager, who was in the boxes; still more so when Mr. Crummles and all the company died at him. And as in Nickleby we have “the Comic Countryman” who so inopportunely caught a bluebottle when Mrs. Crummles was making her great point for the London Manager: so in the account of Dullborough we are told of “the Funny Countryman” who sustained the comic, bucolic parts. This alone would show that the Rochester and Portsmouth Theatres were the same, while the beautiful young lady in the white apron performed the same sort of characters that Miss Bravassa, or Miss Snivelicci did.
And in this connection may be supplied a further speculation which is interesting. In Boz’s earlier works it is plain that he relies for his most striking effects of character on his own recollections and
personal observations. They might be considered passages from his autobiography. I have thought that much in “Nickleby” of Nicholas’s career and Nicholas’s own character was drawn from himself. Nicholas suggests Boz in appearance, in his spirit and vehemence, and in some of his adventures. Some years ago a remarkable letter appeared in the papers, in which Dickens, then a mere youth, made an application to one of the managers, Mr. Webster I think, for a situation in his theatre. He wanted to go on the stage. Was not this like Nicholas? This desire was surely founded on intimate acquaintance with the boards and amateur experience.
“I had entertained the impression,” he goes on, “that the High Street was as wide as Regent Street—I found it little better than a lane. There was a public clock in it which I had supposed to be the finest clock in the world, whereas it now turned out to be as inexpressive, moon-faced and weak a clock as ever I saw.” The Town Hall was a “mean little brick heap, like a demented chapel.”
II.—The Bull
Jingle, it will be recollected, on the party arriving at the Bull, gave that Inn the highest praise, recommending them to stay there—“good house—nice beds—” a testimonial that used to be displayed in gold letters at the door, but which, I have seen it stated, has been removed. I have also read the same testimonial in the guides and advertisements. Jingle warned them against another Inn hard by,—“Wright’s—next house—dear—very dear—half-a-crown if you look at the waiter, making a charge for dinner, all the same, if you dined out”; a practice, however, not altogether unknown to modern Hotels. It was bold in Boz, thus to publicly disparage Hotels that he did not approve. “Wright’s” could not have relished so public an allusion. What or where was Wright’s—“next house?” There is now—in the same High Street—“The King’s Head,” described as “Family and Commercial, one of the oldest-established in the Kingdom, close to the Cathedral and Castle—home comforts.” This being its position—the Castle on one side, the Cathedral on the other—situated exactly as the Bull was—and therefore “next house,” accurately described its position. Being “one of the oldest-established,” it must have been there at the time of the Pickwickian visit.
At the Bull, they show you “Mr. Pickwick’s room”—as well as Tupman’s and Winkle’s—Boz’s very particular description enables this to be done. Mr. Pickwick’s was, of course, to the front—when, roused by the Boots, he gave the direction of his followers’ bed-room, “next room but two on the right hand.” Winkle’s room was inside Tupman’s—so we are shown a room in the front with another inside of it—and the third on the left will, of course, be Mr. Pickwick’s, Q.E.D. The waiters know all these points, and prove them to the bewildered visitors. “You see, sir, there is the very room where the clothes were stolen.”
III.—Jingle’s Love Affairs
Jingle’s elopement with the spinster aunt was ingeniously contrived, but it seemed rather speculative and rash—she might not have had a penny. His only ground for jumping to the conclusion that she had a fortune was that, on his saying that “Tupman only wants your money”; “The wretch!” she exclaimed—“Mr. Jingle’s doubts were resolved—she had money.” More wonderful, too, were the very easy terms on which he was “bought off”—a hundred and twenty pounds. Her fortune might be estimated at some thousands. He was really master of the situation. The lady was of mature age—her own mistress, Wardle and his attorney could do nothing to stop the business. He certainly might have held out for four or five hundred pounds. Perker’s diplomacy was wretched, and his plea about the age of the old lady mere burlesque. “You are right, my dear sir—she is rather old. The founder of the family came into Kent when Julius Cæsar invaded Britain; only one member of it since who hasn’t lived to eighty-five, and he was beheaded by one of the Henrys. The old lady is not seventy-three now, my dear sir.” Which seems like buffooning in a man of business.