Samuel Weller Character Analysis

‘We were trespassing, it seems,’ said Wardle.

‘I don’t care,’ said Mr Pickwick, ‘I’ll bring the action.’

‘No, you won’t,’ said Wardle.

‘I will, by – ’ but as there was a humorous expression in Wardle’s face, Mr Pickwick checked himself, and said – ‘Why not?’

‘Because,’ said old Wardle, half-bursting with laughter, ‘because they might turn round on some of us, and say we had taken too much cold punch.’

Do what he would, a smile would come into Mr Pickwick’s face; the smile extended into a laugh, the laugh into a roar, and the roar became general. So, to keep up their good humour, they stopped at the first road-side tavern they came to, and ordered a glass of brandy and water all round, with a magnum of extra strength, for Mr Samuel Weller.’

‘He is a vagabond, Mr. Jinks,’ said the magistrate. ‘He is a vagabond on his own statement,—is he not, Mr. Jinks?’

‘Certainly, Sir.’

‘Then I’ll commit him—I’ll commit him as such,’ said Mr. Nupkins.

‘This is a wery impartial country for justice, ‘said Sam.’ There ain’t a magistrate goin’ as don’t commit himself twice as he commits other people.’

“Nothin’ else,’ said Mr Weller, shaking his head gravely; ‘and wot aggrawates me, Samivel, is to see ’em a wastin’ all their time and labour in making clothes for copper-coloured people as don’t want ’em, and taking no notice of the flesh-coloured Christians as do. If I’d my vay, Samivel, I’d just stick some o’ these here lazy shepherds behind a heavy wheelbarrow, and run ’em up and down a fourteen-inch-wide plank all day. That ’ud shake the nonsense out of ’em, if anythin’ vould.’

Mr Weller having delivered this gentle recipe with strong emphasis, eked out by a variety of nods and contortions of the eye, emptied his glass at a draught, and knocked the ashes out of his pipe, with native dignity.”

Mr Pickwick felt a great deal too much touched by the warmth of Sam’s attachment, to be able to exhibit any manifestation of anger or displeasure at the precipitate course he had adopted, in voluntarily consigning himself to a debtors’ prison for an indefinite period. The only point on which he persevered in demanding any explanation, was, the name of Sam’s detaining creditor, but this Mr Weller as perseveringly withheld.

Mr Pickwick is somewhat infirm now; but he retains all his former juvenility of spirit, and may still be frequently seen, contemplating the pictures in the Dulwich Gallery, or enjoying a walk about the pleasant neighbourhood on a fine day. He is known by all the poor people about, who never fail to take their hats off, as he passes, with great respect. The children idolise him, and so indeed does the whole neighbourhood. Every year he repairs to a large family merry-making at Mr Wardle’s; on this, as on all other occasions, he is invariably attended by the faithful Sam, between whom and his master there exists a steady and reciprocal attachment which nothing but death will sever.

‘We were trespassing, it seems,’ said Wardle.

‘I don’t care,’ said Mr Pickwick, ‘I’ll bring the action.’

‘No, you won’t,’ said Wardle.

‘I will, by – ’ but as there was a humorous expression in Wardle’s face, Mr Pickwick checked himself, and said – ‘Why not?’

‘Because,’ said old Wardle, half-bursting with laughter, ‘because they might turn round on some of us, and say we had taken too much cold punch.’

Do what he would, a smile would come into Mr Pickwick’s face; the smile extended into a laugh, the laugh into a roar, and the roar became general. So, to keep up their good humour, they stopped at the first road-side tavern they came to, and ordered a glass of brandy and water all round, with a magnum of extra strength, for Mr Samuel Weller.’

‘He is a vagabond, Mr. Jinks,’ said the magistrate. ‘He is a vagabond on his own statement,—is he not, Mr. Jinks?’

‘Certainly, Sir.’

‘Then I’ll commit him—I’ll commit him as such,’ said Mr. Nupkins.

‘This is a wery impartial country for justice, ‘said Sam.’ There ain’t a magistrate goin’ as don’t commit himself twice as he commits other people.’

“Nothin’ else,’ said Mr Weller, shaking his head gravely; ‘and wot aggrawates me, Samivel, is to see ’em a wastin’ all their time and labour in making clothes for copper-coloured people as don’t want ’em, and taking no notice of the flesh-coloured Christians as do. If I’d my vay, Samivel, I’d just stick some o’ these here lazy shepherds behind a heavy wheelbarrow, and run ’em up and down a fourteen-inch-wide plank all day. That ’ud shake the nonsense out of ’em, if anythin’ vould.’

Mr Weller having delivered this gentle recipe with strong emphasis, eked out by a variety of nods and contortions of the eye, emptied his glass at a draught, and knocked the ashes out of his pipe, with native dignity.”

Mr Pickwick felt a great deal too much touched by the warmth of Sam’s attachment, to be able to exhibit any manifestation of anger or displeasure at the precipitate course he had adopted, in voluntarily consigning himself to a debtors’ prison for an indefinite period. The only point on which he persevered in demanding any explanation, was, the name of Sam’s detaining creditor, but this Mr Weller as perseveringly withheld.

Mr Pickwick is somewhat infirm now; but he retains all his former juvenility of spirit, and may still be frequently seen, contemplating the pictures in the Dulwich Gallery, or enjoying a walk about the pleasant neighbourhood on a fine day. He is known by all the poor people about, who never fail to take their hats off, as he passes, with great respect. The children idolise him, and so indeed does the whole neighbourhood. Every year he repairs to a large family merry-making at Mr Wardle’s; on this, as on all other occasions, he is invariably attended by the faithful Sam, between whom and his master there exists a steady and reciprocal attachment which nothing but death will sever.