feeding had expanded that once romantic form; the black silk

waistcoat had become more and more developed; inch by inch had the

gold watch-chain beneath it disappeared from within the range of

Tupman's vision; and gradually had the capacious chin encroached

upon the borders of the white cravat: but the soul of Tupman had

known no change - admiration of the fair sex was still its ruling

passion. On the left of his great leader sat the poetic Snodgrass, and

near him again the sporting Winkle; the former poetically enveloped in

a mysterious blue cloak with a canine-skin collar, and the latter

communicating additional lustre to a new green shooting-coat, plaid

neckerchief, and closely-fitted drabs.

Mr Pickwick's oration upon this occasion, together with the debate

thereon, is entered on the Transactions of the Club. Both bear a

strong affinity to the discussions of other celebrated bodies; and, as it

is always interesting to trace a resemblance between the proceedings

of great men, we transfer the entry to these pages.

Mr Pickwick observed (says the secretary) that fame was dear to the

heart of every man. Poetic fame was dear to the heart of his friend

Snodgrass; the fame of conquest was equally dear to his friend

Tupman; and the desire of earning fame in the sports of the field, the

air, and the water was uppermost in the breast of his friend Winkle.

He (Mr Pickwick) would not deny that he was influenced by human

passions and human feelings (cheers) -

possibly by human

weaknesses (loud cries of ‘No’); but this he would say, that if ever the

fire of self-importance broke out in his bosom, the desire to benefit the

human race in preference effectually quenched it. The praise of

mankind was his swing; philanthropy was his insurance office.

(

Vehement cheering.) He had felt some pride - he acknowledged it

freely, and let his enemies make the most of it - he had felt some pride

when he presented his Tittlebatian Theory to the world; it might be

celebrated or it might not. (A cry of ‘It is,’ and great cheering.) He

would take the assertion of that honourable Pickwickian whose voice

he had just heard - it was celebrated; but if the fame of that treatise

were to extend to the farthest confines of the known world, the pride

with which he should reflect on the authorship of that production

would be as nothing compared with the pride with which he looked

around him, on this, the proudest moment of his existence. (Cheers.)

He was a humble individual. (‘No, no.’) Still he could not but feel that

they had selected him for a service of great honour, and of some

danger. Travelling was in a troubled state, and the minds of coachmen

were unsettled. Let them look abroad and contemplate the scenes

which were enacting around them. Stage-coaches were upsetting in all

directions, horses were bolting, boats were overturning, and boilers

were bursting. (Cheers - a voice ‘No.’) No! (Cheers.) Let that

honourable Pickwickian who cried ‘No’ so loudly come forward and

deny it, if he could. (Cheers.) Who was it that cried ‘No’? (Enthusiastic

The Pickwick Papers