Some of these cruxes, Sir Walter tells us, could not be solved by the examiner, and were laid before Boz himself, with a copy of the questions. Needless to say, Boz was infinitely amused, but, to the general disappointment, could or would give no information. The answer of Browning on a similar appeal is well known—he referred his questioners to the Browning Society, as knowing as much as he did on the point. There is no doubt that this is the true philosophy of the thing: that, once his ideas are in print, the author has no more to do with them or their meaning than anyone else has. The passages must speak for themselves; they are children sent into the world—helpless infants like those Pickwickian “expletives, let loose upon society.” Among these unexplained things were “my Prooshan Blue” and “Old Nobs.” Sir Walter, with real Pickwickian sagacity, points to a true explanation which may be applied in other cases. “Probably it was a phrase which he had heard in a crowd, and had never asked himself what it meant,” i.e., it seemed appropriate, and what a person in such a case would use. This is in fact part of that “hallucination” of which G. H. Lewes spoke; the scene came so completely before Boz that the words and phrases suggested themselves to him and could not be denied, and he did not ask them to give any account. This principle, however, does not hinder an amusing display of speculation. Mr. Andrew Lang’s explanation of “My Prooshan Blue” is certainly far fetched. He thinks it refers to a dreamy notion of George IV., who, at one moment, thought of changing the British uniform to the Prussian Blue. Now, this was not known at the time, and came out
years later. It had certainly not reached persons of the Weller class. The truth is that most of Sam’s grotesque epithets, e.g., “young Brokiley sprout,” were the arbitrary coinage of a fantastic mind. This, too, as Sir Walter said, “he may have heard in a crowd,” or in the mazes of his own brain. “Old Nobs” is just as reasonable as Hamlet’s “Old Truepenny.” “Are you there, Old Truepenny,” might have been said by Sam to his father, as Hamlet addressed it to his.
CHAPTER XIII. PICKWICK IN REAL LIFE
I.—Dowler and John Forster
The truculent Dowler figured before in “The Tuggs at Ramsgate”—a very amusing and Pickwickian tale—under the title of Capt. Waters, who exhibits the same simulated ferocity and jealousy of his spouse. Cruickshank’s sketch, too, of the Captain is like that of Dowler when throwing up the window in the Crescent. Mrs. Waters is made as attractive as Mrs. Dowler, and Cymon Tuggs, like Winkle, excites the jealousy of the husband.
“Stop him,” roared Dowler, “hold him—keep him tight—shut him in till I come down—I’ll cut his throat—give me a knife—from ear to ear, Mrs. Craddock, I will.” And Captain Waters: “Ah! what do I see? Slaughter, your sabre—unhand me—the villain’s life!”
In the same story we have an anticipation of another incident: the shutting up and detection of Pipkin in the cupboard, who is discovered by a pipe being required, just as young Tuggs was by his coughing from the tobacco smoke. Boz was partial to this method of discovery, for, at the close, Snodgrass was thus concealed and shut up at Osborne’s Hotel. His detection, through the stupidity of the Fat Boy, is singularly natural and original.
Some of Dowler’s dictatorial ways may have been suggested by Boz’s friend, the redoubtable John Forster. There is one passage in the Bath chapters where we almost seem to hear our old friend speaking, when he took command of his friends and introduced them, “My friend, Angelo Cyrus Bantam, Esquire, know each other.” “Bantam; Mr. Pickwick and his friends are strangers. They must put their names down. Where’s the book?” Then adds: “This is a long call. It’s time to go; I shall be here again in an hour. Come.” And at the assembly he still continued his patronage and direction of everybody. “Step in the tea-room—take your sixpenn’orth. They lay on hot water and call it tea. Drink it,” said Mr. Dowler, in a loud
voice, directing Mr. Pickwick.” Forster “all over.” We have heard him “direct” on many an occasion. When starting from the White Horse Cellars, Dowler, fancying that more passengers were to be squeezed into the coach, said he would be d---d if there were; he’d bring an action against the company, and take a post chaise.