'This sagacious pig was fond of bathing in rich, moist mud.Not in summer, as common pigs do now, to cool themselves,and did even in those distant ages (which is a proof that the lightof civilisation had already begun to dawn, though feebly), but inthe cold, sharp days of winter. His coat was ever so sleek, andhis complexion so clear, that the prince resolved to essay thepurifying qualities of the same water that his friend resorted to.He made the trial. Beneath that black mud, bubbled the hotsprings of Bath. He washed, and was cured. Hastening to hisfather's court, he paid his best respects, and returning quicklyhither, founded this city and its famous baths.

'He sought the pig with all the ardour of their early friendship--but, alas! the waters had been his death. He had imprudentlytaken a bath at too high a temperature, and the natural philosopherwas no more! He was succeeded by Pliny, who also fell avictim to his thirst for knowledge.

'This was the legend. Listen to the true one.

'A great many centuries since, there flourished, in great state,the famous and renowned Lud Hudibras, king of Britain. He wasa mighty monarch. The earth shook when he walked--he was sovery stout. His people basked in the light of his countenance--itwas so red and glowing. He was, indeed, every inch a king. Andthere were a good many inches of him, too, for although he wasnot very tall, he was a remarkable size round, and the inches thathe wanted in height, he made up in circumference. If anydegenerate monarch of modern times could be in any way comparedwith him, I should say the venerable King Cole would bethat illustrious potentate.

'This good king had a queen, who eighteen years before, hadhad a son, who was called Bladud. He was sent to a preparatoryseminary in his father's dominions until he was ten years old, andwas then despatched, in charge of a trusty messenger, to afinishing school at Athens; and as there was no extra charge forremaining during the holidays, and no notice required previousto the removal of a pupil, there he remained for eight long years,at the expiration of which time, the king his father sent the lordchamberlain over, to settle the bill, and to bring him home;which, the lord chamberlain doing, was received with shouts, andpensioned immediately.

'When King Lud saw the prince his son, and found he hadgrown up such a fine young man, he perceived what a grandthing it would be to have him married without delay, so that hischildren might be the means of perpetuating the glorious race ofLud, down to the very latest ages of the world. With this view,he sent a special embassy, composed of great noblemen who hadnothing particular to do, and wanted lucrative employment, to aneighbouring king, and demanded his fair daughter in marriagefor his son; stating at the same time that he was anxious to be onthe most affectionate terms with his brother and friend, but thatif they couldn't agree in arranging this marriage, he should beunder the unpleasant necessity of invading his kingdom andputting his eyes out. To this, the other king (who was the weakerof the two) replied that he was very much obliged to his friendand brother for all his goodness and magnanimity, and that hisdaughter was quite ready to be married, whenever Prince Bladudliked to come and fetch her.

'This answer no sooner reached Britain, than the whole nationwas transported with joy. Nothing was heard, on all sides, butthe sounds of feasting and revelry--except the chinking of moneyas it was paid in by the people to the collector of the royaltreasures, to defray the expenses of the happy ceremony. It wasupon this occasion that King Lud, seated on the top of his thronein full council, rose, in the exuberance of his feelings, and commandedthe lord chief justice to order in the richest wines andthe court minstrels--an act of graciousness which has been,through the ignorance of traditionary historians, attributed toKing Cole, in those celebrated lines in which his Majesty isrepresented as

Calling for his pipe, and calling for his pot,And calling for his fiddlers three.

Which is an obvious injustice to the memory of King Lud, anda dishonest exaltation of the virtues of King Cole.

'But, in the midst of all this festivity and rejoicing, there wasone individual present, who tasted not when the sparkling wineswere poured forth, and who danced not, when the minstrelsplayed. This was no other than Prince Bladud himself, in honourof whose happiness a whole people were, at that very moment,straining alike their throats and purse-strings. The truth was,that the prince, forgetting the undoubted right of the minister forforeign affairs to fall in love on his behalf, had, contrary to everyprecedent of policy and diplomacy, already fallen in love on hisown account, and privately contracted himself unto the fairdaughter of a noble Athenian.

'Here we have a striking example of one of the manifoldadvantages of civilisation and refinement. If the prince had livedin later days, he might at once have married the object of hisfather's choice, and then set himself seriously to work, to relievehimself of the burden which rested heavily upon him. He might haveendeavoured to break her heart by a systematic course of insult andneglect; or, if the spirit of her sex, and a proud consciousnessof her many wrongs had upheld her under this ill-treatment, hemight have sought to take her life, and so get rid of her effectually.But neither mode of relief suggested itself to Prince Bladud; so hesolicited a private audience, and told his father.

'it is an old prerogative of kings to govern everything but theirpassions. King Lud flew into a frightful rage, tossed his crown upto the ceiling, and caught it again--for in those days kings kepttheir crowns on their heads, and not in the Tower--stamped theground, rapped his forehead, wondered why his own flesh andblood rebelled against him, and, finally, calling in his guards,ordered the prince away to instant Confinement in a lofty turret;a course of treatment which the kings of old very generallypursued towards their sons, when their matrimonial inclinationsdid not happen to point to the same quarter as their own.

'When Prince Bladud had been shut up in the lofty turret forthe greater part of a year, with no better prospect before hisbodily eyes than a stone wall, or before his mental vision thanprolonged imprisonment, he naturally began to ruminate on aplan of escape, which, after months of preparation, he managedto accomplish; considerately leaving his dinner-knife in the heartof his jailer, lest the poor fellow (who had a family) should beconsidered privy to his flight, and punished accordingly by theinfuriated king.

'The monarch was frantic at the loss of his son. He knew noton whom to vent his grief and wrath, until fortunately bethinkinghimself of the lord chamberlain who had brought him home, hestruck off his pension and his head together.

'Meanwhile, the young prince, effectually disguised, wanderedon foot through his father's dominions, cheered and supportedin all his hardships by sweet thoughts of the Athenian maid, whowas the innocent cause of his weary trials. One day he stoppedto rest in a country village; and seeing that there were gay dancesgoing forward on the green, and gay faces passing to and fro,ventured to inquire of a reveller who stood near him, the reasonfor this rejoicing.

'"Know you not, O stranger," was the reply, "of the recentproclamation of our gracious king?"

'"Proclamation! No. What proclamation?" rejoined theprince--for he had travelled along the by and little-frequentedways, and knew nothing of what had passed upon the publicroads, such as they were.

'"Why," replied the peasant, "the foreign lady that our princewished to wed, is married to a foreign noble of her own country,and the king proclaims the fact, and a great public festivalbesides; for now, of course, Prince Bladud will come back andmarry the lady his father chose, who they say is as beautiful asthe noonday sun. Your health, sir. God save the king!"

'The prince remained to hear no more. He fled from the spot,and plunged into the thickest recesses of a neighbouring wood.On, on, he wandered, night and day; beneath the blazing sun, andthe cold pale moon; through the dry heat of noon, and the dampcold of night; in the gray light of morn, and the red glareof eve. So heedless was he of time or object, that beingbound for Athens, he wandered as far out of his way as Bath.

'There was no city where Bath stands, then. There was novestige of human habitation, or sign of man's resort, to bear thename; but there was the same noble country, the same broadexpanse of hill and dale, the same beautiful channel stealing on,far away, the same lofty mountains which, like the troubles oflife, viewed at a distance, and partially obscured by the brightmist of its morning, lose their ruggedness and asperity, and seemall ease and softness. Moved by the gentle beauty of the scene,the prince sank upon the green turf, and bathed his swollen feetin his tears.

'"Oh!" said the unhappy Bladud, clasping his hands, andmournfully raising his eyes towards the sky, "would that mywanderings might end here! Would that these grateful tears withwhich I now mourn hope misplaced, and love despised, mightflow in peace for ever!"

'The wish was heard. It was in the time of the heathen deities,who used occasionally to take people at their words, with apromptness, in some cases, extremely awkward. The groundopened beneath the prince's feet; he sank into the chasm; andinstantaneously it closed upon his head for ever, save where hishot tears welled up through the earth, and where they havecontinued to gush forth ever since.

'It is observable that, to this day, large numbers of elderlyladies and gentlemen who have been disappointed in procuringpartners, and almost as many young ones who are anxious toobtain them, repair annually to Bath to drink the waters, fromwhich they derive much strength and comfort. This is mostcomplimentary to the virtue of Prince Bladud's tears, and stronglycorroborative of the veracity of this legend.'

Mr. Pickwick yawned several times when he had arrived at theend of this little manuscript, carefully refolded, and replaced it inthe inkstand drawer, and then, with a countenance expressive ofthe utmost weariness, lighted his chamber candle, and wentupstairs to bed.He stopped at Mr. Dowler's door, according to custom, andknocked to say good-night.

'Ah!' said Dowler, 'going to bed? I wish I was. Dismal night.Windy; isn't it?'

'Very,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'Good-night.'

'Good-night.'

Mr. Pickwick went to his bedchamber, and Mr. Dowlerresumed his seat before the fire, in fulfilment of his rash promiseto sit up till his wife came home.

There are few things more worrying than sitting up for somebody,especially if that somebody be at a party. You cannot helpthinking how quickly the time passes with them, which drags soheavily with you; and the more you think of this, the more yourhopes of their speedy arrival decline. Clocks tick so loud, too,when you are sitting up alone, and you seem as if you had anunder-garment of cobwebs on. First, something tickles yourright knee, and then the same sensation irritates your left. Youhave no sooner changed your position, than it comes again in thearms; when you have fidgeted your limbs into all sorts of queershapes, you have a sudden relapse in the nose, which you rub asif to rub it off--as there is no doubt you would, if you could.Eyes, too, are mere personal inconveniences; and the wick of onecandle gets an inch and a half long, while you are snuffing theother. These, and various other little nervous annoyances,render sitting up for a length of time after everybody else hasgone to bed, anything but a cheerful amusement.

This was just Mr. Dowler's opinion, as he sat before the fire,and felt honestly indignant with all the inhuman people at theparty who were keeping him up. He was not put into betterhumour either, by the reflection that he had taken it into hishead, early in the evening, to think he had got an ache there, andso stopped at home. At length, after several droppings asleep,and fallings forward towards the bars, and catchings backwardsoon enough to prevent being branded in the face, Mr. Dowlermade up his mind that he would throw himself on the bed in theback room and think--not sleep, of course.

'I'm a heavy sleeper,' said Mr. Dowler, as he flung himself onthe bed. 'I must keep awake. I suppose I shall hear a knock here.Yes. I thought so. I can hear the watchman. There he goes.Fainter now, though. A little fainter. He's turning the corner.Ah!' When Mr. Dowler arrived at this point, he turned thecorner at which he had been long hesitating, and fell fast asleep.

Just as the clock struck three, there was blown into the crescenta sedan-chair with Mrs. Dowler inside, borne by one short, fatchairman, and one long, thin one, who had had much ado tokeep their bodies perpendicular: to say nothing of the chair.But on that high ground, and in the crescent, which the windswept round and round as if it were going to tear the pavingstones up, its fury was tremendous. They were very glad to setthe chair down, and give a good round loud double-knock at thestreet door.

They waited some time, but nobody came.

'Servants is in the arms o' Porpus, I think,' said the shortchairman, warming his hands at the attendant link-boy's torch.

'I wish he'd give 'em a squeeze and wake 'em,' observed thelong one.

'Knock again, will you, if you please,' cried Mrs. Dowler fromthe chair. 'Knock two or three times, if you please.'

The short man was quite willing to get the job over, as soon aspossible; so he stood on the step, and gave four or five moststartling double-knocks, of eight or ten knocks a-piece, while thelong man went into the road, and looked up at the windows fora light.

Nobody came. It was all as silent and dark as ever.

'Dear me!' said Mrs. Dowler. 'You must knock again, if youplease.''There ain't a bell, is there, ma'am?' said the short chairman.

Title: The Pickwick Papers
Author: Charles Dickens
Viewed 262627 times

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