Chapter XVII

Showing That An Attack Of Rheumatism, In Some Cases, Acts As

A Quickener To Inventive Genius

The constitution of Mr Pickwick, though able to sustain a very

considerable amount of exertion and fatigue, was not proof against

such a combination of attacks as he had undergone on the memorable

night, recorded in the last chapter. The process of being washed in the

night air, and rough-dried in a closet, is as dangerous as it is peculiar.

Mr Pickwick was laid up with an attack of rheumatism.

But although the bodily powers of the great man were thus impaired,

his mental energies retained their pristine vigour. His spirits were

elastic; his good-humour was restored. Even the vexation consequent

upon his recent adventure had vanished from his mind; and he could

join in the hearty laughter, which any allusion to it excited in Mr

Wardle, without anger and without embarrassment. Nay, more.

During the two days Mr Pickwick was confined to bed, Sam was his

constant attendant. On the first, he endeavoured to amuse his master

by anecdote and conversation; on the second, Mr Pickwick demanded

his writing-desk, and pen and ink, and was deeply engaged during the

whole day. On the third, being able to sit up in his bedchamber, he

despatched his valet with a message to Mr Wardle and Mr Trundle,

intimating that if they would take their wine there, that evening, they

would greatly oblige him. The invitation was most willingly accepted;

and when they were seated over their wine, Mr Pickwick, with sundry

blushes, produced the following little tale, as having been 'edited' by

himself, during his recent indisposition, from his notes of Mr Weller's

unsophisticated recital.

THE PARISH CLERK A TALE OF TRUE LOVE

'Once upon a time, in a very small country town, at a considerable

distance from London, there lived a little man named Nathaniel

Pipkin, who was the parish clerk of the little town, and lived in a little

house in the little High Street, within ten minutes' walk from the little

church; and who was to be found every day, from nine till four,

teaching a little learning to the little boys. Nathaniel Pipkin was a

harmless, inoffensive, good-natured being, with a turned-up nose, and

rather turned-in legs, a cast in his eye, and a halt in his gait; and he

divided his time between the church and his school, verily believing

that there existed not, on the face of the earth, so clever a man as the

curate, so imposing an apartment as the vestry-room, or so well-

ordered a seminary as his own. Once, and only once, in his life,

Nathaniel Pipkin had seen a bishop - a real bishop, with his arms in

lawn sleeves, and his head in a wig. He had seen him walk, and heard

him talk, at a confirmation, on which momentous occasion Nathaniel

The Pickwick Papers