Bardell v. Pickwick Page 2

  THE CAUSE OF ACTION.

  Mr. Pickwick was a well-to-do bachelor, who lived by himself near thecity, where he had been in trade. His age was about fifty, as can beaccurately calculated by his remark on the sliding at Manor Farm. "Iused to do so on the gutters when I was a boy . . . but I hav'nt donesuch a thing these thirty years." This was said in 1828. He resided inGoswell Street--now Goswell Road--with a widow lady, whose husband hadbeen in the Excise. He cannot have paid more than a pound a week, if somuch, for two rooms on the first floor. There was no servant, and thehardworking landlady, Mrs. Martha Bardell, performed all the duties ofher household single-handed. As her Counsel later described it,--and seeall she did for him!--"She waited on him, attended to his comforts,cooked his meals, looked out his linen for the washer-woman when it wentabroad, darned, aired, and prepared it for his wear when it came home,and, in short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence." Thus SergeantBuzfuz, duly "instructed." Not only was there Mr. Pickwick, but therewas another lodger, and her little boy Tommy. The worthy woman took careof and looked after all three. This might incline us to take a favorableview of her. She regarded her lodger with feelings of veneration andattachment, of which proof is found in her later talk with Sam. To himshe said that "he had always behaved himself like a perfect gentlemen,"and then added this significant speech: "It's a terrible thing to bedragged in this way before the public, but _I now see_ that it's the onlything that I ought to do." That is, she seems to have held out as longas possible, believing that her amiable lodger would act as a perfectgentlemen and like himself. But when she found that even an action hadno terrors for him, she saw that there was nothing else to do but to letthe action go on.

  And what was Mrs. Bardell like? One would imagine her a plump, buxomwidow, "fat, fair, and forty," with her dear little boy, "the only pledgeof her deceased exciseman," or say something between thirty and fortyyears old. Fortunately, two portraits have come down to us of thelady--one somewhat of this pattern, and depicting her, as she flungherself on Mr. Pickwick on that disastrous morning: the other--a swollen,dreadful thing, which must be a caricature of the literal presentment.Here we see a woman of gross, enormous proportions seated on the frontbench and apparently weighing some thirteen or fourteen stone, with avast coarse face. This is surely an unfair presentment of the worthylandlady; besides, Dodson and Fogg were too astute practitioners toimperil their chances by exhibiting to his Lordship and the Jury soill-favoured a plaintiff. Indeed, we are told that they arranged arather theatrical exhibition in this scene, with a view of creating animpression in their favour.

  Many find pleasure in reading the Bookseller's Catalogues, and a vastnumber are showered on me in the course of the year. But on one of theseI always gaze with a special interest, and even tenderness. For it comesfrom one Herbert, who lives in Goswell Road. Only think, _Goswell_Road--erst Goswell Street, where just seventy years ago Mrs. Bardell wasletting lodgings and Mr. Pickwick himself was lodging: and on the cover Iread, furthur attraction, "Goswell Road, near the 'Angel,'" whence the"stage" which took the party to the "Spaniard" at Hampstead started!Sometimes I am drawn to the shop, crowded with books; but one's thoughtsstray away from the books into speculations as to _which_ house it was.But the indications are most vague, though the eye settles on a decentrange of shabby-looking faded tenements--two storeys high only--and which_look_ like lodging houses. Some ingenious commentators have indeedventured to identify the house itself, arguing from the very generaldescription in the text.

  We should note, however, Mr. Pickwick's lack of caution. He came in thevery next day, having apparently made no enquiries as to the landlady.Had he done so, he would have learned of the drunken exciseman who methis death by being knocked on the head with a quart pot. He might haveheard of the friends, Cluppins, Raddle, etc., who seemed to have beencharwomen or something of the sort; also that there was a sort of workingman as a fellow lodger. Above all, that there was no servant in thehouse. All which boded ill, and made it likely that Mr. Pickwick wouldbe the easy victim of some crafty scheme.

  All went well until the unluckly morning in July, 1827, when Mr.Pickwick's friends, coming to pay a morning call, and enteringunexpectedly, surprised Mr. Pickwick with his landlady fainting in hisarms in an hysterical condition. This was a very awkward business. Thedelinquent, however, did not at once grasp the situation, and could not"make head or tail of it, or what the lady meant." His friends, however,had their doubts:

  'What _is_ the matter?' said the three tongue-tied Pickwickians.

  'I don't know,' replied Mr. Pickwick, pettishly. 'Now, help me, lead this woman down stairs.'

  'Oh, I am better now,' said Mrs. Bardell, faintly.

  'Let me lead you downstairs,' said the ever gallant Mr. Tupman.

  'Thank you, sir--thank you?' exclaimed Mrs. Bardell hysterically. And downstairs she was led accordingly, accompanied by her affectionate son.

  [Picture: The cause of action]

  'I cannot conceive--' said Mr. Pickwick, when his friend returned--'I cannot conceive what has been the matter with that woman. I had merely announced to her my intention of keeping a man servant, when she fell into the extraordinary paroxysm in which you found her. Very extraordinary thing.'

  'Very,' said his three friends.

  'Placed me in such an extremely awkward situation,' continued Mr. Pickwick.

  'Very,' was the reply of his followers, as they coughed slightly, and looked dubiously at each other.

  This behaviour was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He remarked their incredulity. They evidently suspected him.

  It may be reasonably supposed that Mr. Pickwick had not been verydiscreet, or sufficiently cautious in his general behaviour to hislandlady. As we know, he was rather too effusive in his relations withthe fair sex. One of his weaknesses was _kissing_. He would kisseverybody who was young or good-looking. His maxim was "Kiss early andkiss often." Who can forget his _systematic_ method of greeting theengaging Arabella? "He (1) took off his spectacles, (2) in great haste,and (3) taking both the young lady's hands in his (4) kissed her (5) agreat many times (6) perhaps a greater number of times than wasabsolutely necessary." Old rogue! I have little doubt that on hisreturn home from his tours he encircled the buxom figure of Mrs.Bardell--all of course in his own paternal and privileged way.

  It should be borne in mind also that Mr. Pickwick was almost invariablydrawn into his more serious scrapes and embarrassments by this devotionto the sex. The night in the boarding school garden--the affair with thespinster lady--his interview with Arabella from the top of the wall--hisdevotion to Mrs. Pott and Mrs. Dowler--and much more that we do not hearof, show that he was a gallant elderly gentleman. Oh, he was a "sly dog,he was."

  There is a curious burst of Mr. Pickwick's which seems to hint at a sortof tender appreciation on his side. When the notice of trial was sent tohim, in his first vehemence, he broke out that Mrs. Bardell had nothingto do with the business, "_She hadn't the heart to do it_." Mr. Pickwickcould not speak with this certainty, unless he knew the lady's feelingspretty well. _Why_ hadn't she the heart to do it? Because she wassincerely attached to him and his interests and was "a dear creature."This, however, was a fond delusion of the worthy gentleman's. Persons ofher class are not quite so disinterested as they appear to be, especiallyif they have to interpret the various paternal and comforting advancesmade to them by their well to do lodgers.

  There is another factor which can hardly be left out, when consideringMr. Pickwick's responsibility--that is, his too frequent indulgence inliquor, and the insufficiency of his head to stand its influence. Nowthis was a very important day for him, the first time he was to set up aman servant. He had to break it to his landlady, who would naturallyresent the change. He may have been _priming_ himself with some of thoseperpetual glasses of brandy and water to which he was addicted, and whoknows but that, in his ardour t
o propitiate, he may have gone a _little_too far? This fact too, of the introducing a man servant into herestablishment, Mrs. Bardell may have indistinctly associated with ageneral change in his life. If she were to become Mrs. Pickwick herduties might be naturally expected to devolve on a male assistant.

  Next morning he and his friends quitted London on their travels toEatanswill in pursuit of adventure. He airily dismissed the matter. Wemay wonder whether he made any remonstrance to his landlady before hisdeparture. Probably he did not, fancying that she had been merely in aslight fit of the "tantrums."

  At Bury, however, after the boarding-school adventure, he was to bepainfully awakened. He was sitting with his friends after dinner at the"Angel," in his happiest mood. Winkle had related his quarrel with Pott_in re_ Mrs. Pott, in a humorous fashion when one of the most delightfulof humorous scenes followed.

  Mr. Pickwick was proceeding with his scathing rebuke, when Sam enterswith a letter.

  'I don't know this hand,' said Mr. Pickwick, opening the letter. 'Mercy on us! what's this? It must be a jest; it--it--can't be true.'

  'What's the matter?' was the general inquiry.

  'Nobody dead, is there?' said Wardle, alarmed at the horror in Mr. Pickwick's countenance.

  Mr. Pickwick made no reply, but, pushing the letter across the table, and desiring Mr. Tupman to read it aloud, fell back in his chair with a look of vacant astonishment quite alarming to behold.

  Mr. Tupman, with a trembling voice, read the letter, of which the following is a copy:--

  '_Freeman's Court_, _Cornhill_, _August_ 28_th_, 1827. _Bardell against Pickwick_.

  _Sir_,

  _Having been instructed by Mrs. Martha Bardell to commence an action against you for a breach of promise of marriage_, _for which the plaintiff lays her damages at fifteen hundred pounds_, _we beg to inform you that a writ has been issued against you in this suit in the Court of Common Pleas_; _and request to know_, _by return of post_, _the name of your attorney in London_, _who will accept service thereof_.

  _We are_, _Sir_, _Your obedient servants_, _DODSON & FOGG_.

  Mr. Samuel Pickwick.'

  So Mr. Pickwick, the general mentor, the philosopher and friend--the manof high moral tone, "born to set the world aright"--the general lecturerof his "followers," was now in for an action at law of the most awkwardand unpleasant kind. To be philandering with one's landlady! rather lowform this. But what would they say down at Manor Farm? How IsabellaWardle and her sister--and all the girls--would laugh! And the spinsteraunt--_she_ would enjoy it! But there was no help for it. It must befaced.

  Naturally Mr. Pickwick felt uncomfortable, and his first idea was toarrange the matter. This was a sensible course, and he ought at once tohave put the matter into the hands of his friend Perker, with full powersto treat. But no. Mr. Pickwick's vanity and indiscretion made himmeddle in the business behind his solicitor's back, as it where, and withdamaging results to himself--a warning to all such amateurs. It must besaid that Dodson and Fogg's behaviour at the extraordinary visit which hepaid them was marked by a certain propriety. Mr. Pickwick insisted onknowing what were the grounds of action--that is, the details of theevidence against him--in short, their case. They, very correctly,refused to tell him. "The case may be false or it may be true--it may becredible it may be incredible." But all the same it was a strong case.This was as much as they could tell. Mr. Pickwick could only urge thatif "it were so, he was a most unfortunate man," on which Dodsonpromptly--"I hope you are, sir, I trust you may be, sir. If you arereally innocent, you are more unfortunate than I had believed any mancould possibly be."

  Mr. Pickwick then rather foolishly asked did he understand they meant togo on with the action--as if they could have been affected by hisdeclaration. "Understand?" was the reply, "that you certainly may"--avery natural speech.

  With some want of professional delicacy and etiquette, Dodson seized theopportunity to "serve" Mr. Pickwick; but they were not a high-class firmand their methods were not high-class. Then an extraordinarilyincredible display followed. His passion broke forth. "_Of all thedisgraceful and rascally proceedings he ever_, _etc._!" Dodson summonedhis clerks to listen to this gross language, and said, "Perhaps you wouldlike to call us swindlers." "_You are_," said Mr. Pickwick. Fogg evenwished him to assault them--and perhaps he would have done so, but forSam, who at last got him away. This was certainly not correct, but howaggravating was Mr. Pickwick! One is rather astonished at theforbearance of this sharp firm.

  Now, had Mr. Pickwick gone straight to his lodgings in Goswell Street andseen Mrs. Bardell, heard her views and claims, had he been told by herthat she had been professionally urged to go to law as she had such astrong case--there might have been some excuse for this violence toDodson and Fogg. But he knew nothing whatever of the matter--knewnothing of the attornies--and in his blind fury gratuitously assumed thatthey had "conspired" to harass him in this way. True, he had overheardhow they had treated poor Ramsey.

  This very _malapropos_ visit of Mr. Pickwick to the firm was, as I said,a mistake and damaged his case. It showed that he was nervous andanxious, and _insecure_. He took nothing by it. There was in truth muchshort-sighted cunning in his ways, which came of his overweening vanity.But this was only one of several attempts he made to worm out somethingto his own advantage.

  Another of Mr. Pickwick's foolish manoeuvres was his sending his man tohis old lodgings to his landlady--ostensibly to fetch away his "things,"when this dialogue passed:

  'Tell Mrs. Bardell she may put a bill up, as soon as she likes.'

  'Wery good, sir,' replied Mr. Weller; 'anythin' more, sir.'

  'Nothing more, Sam.'

  Mr. Weller stepped slowly to the door, as if he expected something more; slowly opened it, slowly stepped out, and had slowly closed it within a couple of inches, when Mr. Pickwick called out.

  'Sam.'

  'Sir,' said Mr. Weller, stepping quickly back, and closing the door behind him.

  'I have no objection, Sam, to your endeavouring to ascertain how Mrs. Bardell herself seems disposed towards me, and whether it is really probable that this vile and groundless action is to be carried to extremity. _I say_, _I do not object to your doing this_, _if you wish it_, _Sam_,' said Mr. Pickwick. Sam gave a short nod of intelligence and left the room.

  Now this was very artful on the part of Mr. Pickwick, but it was a veryshallow sort of artfulness, and it was later to recoil on himself. Samof course saw through it at once. It never dawned on this simple-mindedman what use the Plaintiff's solicitors would make of his _demarche_.

  When the subpoenas were served he rushed off to Perker:

  'They have subpoena'd my servant too,' said Mr. Pickwick.

  'Sam?' said Perker.

  Mr. Pickwick replied in the affirmative.

  'Of course, my dear sir; of course. I knew they would. I could have told _you_ that a month ago. You know, my dear sir, if you _will_ take the management of your affairs into your own hands after intrusting them to your solicitor, you must also take the consequences.' Here Mr. Perker drew himself up with conscious dignity, and brushed some stray grains of snuff from his shirt frill.

  'And what do they want him to prove?' asked Mr. Pickwick, after two or three minutes' silence.

  'That you sent him up to the plaintiff's to make some offer of a compromise, I suppose,' replied Perker. 'It don't matter much, though; I don't think many counsel could get a great deal out of _him_.'

  'I don't think they could,' said Mr. Pickwick.

  The minutiae of legal process are prosaic and uninteresting, and it mightseem impossibl
e to invest them with any dramatic interest; but howadmirably has Boz lightened up and coloured the simple incident of anattorney's clerk--a common, vulgar fellow of the lowest type, arriving toserve his subpoenas on the witnesses--all assumed to be hostile. Thescene is full of touches of light comedy.

  'How de do, sir?' said Mr. Jackson, nodding to Mr. Pickwick.

  That gentlemen bowed, and looked somewhat surprised for the physiognomy of Mr. Jackson dwelt not in his recollection.

  'I have called from Dodson and Fogg's,' said Mr. Jackson, in an explanatory tone.

  Mr. Pickwick roused at the name. 'I refer you to my attorney, sir: Mr. Perker, of Gray's Inn,' said he. 'Waiter, show this gentleman out.'

  'Beg your pardon, Mr. Pickwick,' said Jackson, deliberately depositing his hat on the floor, and drawing from his pocket the strip of parchment. 'But personal service, by clerk or agent, in these cases, you know, Mr. Pickwick--nothing like caution, sir, in all legal forms?'

  Here Mr. Jackson cast his eye on the parchment; and, resting his hands on the table, and looking round with a winning and persuasive, smile, said: 'Now, come; don't let's have no words about such a little matter as this. Which of you gentlemen's name's Snodgrass?'

  At this inquiry Mr. Snodgrass gave such a very undisguised and palpable start, that no further reply was needed.

  'Ah! I thought so,' said Mr. Jackson, more affably than before. 'I've got a little something to trouble you with, sir.'

  'Me!' exclaimed Mr. Snodgrass.

  'It's only a _subpoena_ in Bardell and Pickwick on behalf of the plaintiff,' replied Jackson, singling out one of the slips of paper, and producing a shilling from his waistcoat pocket. 'It'll come on, in the settens after Term; fourteenth of Febooary, we expect; we've marked it a special jury cause, and it's only ten down the paper. That's yours, Mr. Snodgrass.' As Jackson said this he presented the parchment before the eyes of Mr. Snodgrass, and slipped the paper and the shilling into his hand.

  Mr. Tupman had witnessed this process in silent astonishment, when Jackson, turning sharply upon him, said:

  'I think I ain't mistaken when I say your name's Tupman, am I?'

  Mr. Tupman looked at Mr. Pickwick; but, perceiving no encouragement in that gentleman's widely-opened eyes to deny his name, said:

  'Yes, my name _is_ Tupman, sir.'

  'And that other gentleman's Mr. Winkle, I think?' said Jackson.

  Mr. Winkle faltered out a reply in the affirmative; and both gentlemen were forthwith invested with a slip of paper, and a shilling each, by the dexterous Mr. Jackson.

  'Now,' said Jackson, 'I'm affraid you'll think me rather troublesome, but I want somebody else, if it ain't inconvenient. I _have_ Samuel Weller's name here, Mr. Pickwick.'

  'Send my servant here, waiter,' said Mr. Pickwick. The waiter retired, considerably astonished, and Mr. Pickwick motioned Jackson to a seat.

  There was a painful pause, which was at length broken by the innocent defendant.

  'I suppose, sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, his indignation rising while he spoke; 'I suppose, sir, that it is the intention of your employers to seek to criminate me upon the testimony of my own friends?'

  Mr. Jackson struck his forefinger several times against the left side of his nose, to intimate that he was not there to disclose the secrets of the prison-house, and playfully rejoined:

  'Not knowin', can't say.'

  'For what other reason, sir,' pursued Mr. Pickwick, 'are these subpoenas served upon them, if not for this?'

  'Very good plant, Mr. Pickwick,' replied Jackson, slowly shaking his head. 'But it won't do. No harm in trying, but there's little to be got out of me.'

  Here Mr. Jackson smiled once more upon the company, and, applying his left thumb to the tip of his nose, worked a visionary coffee-mill with his right hand: thereby performing a very graceful piece of pantomime (then much in vogue, but now, unhappily, almost obsolete) which was familiarly denominated 'taking a grinder.' (Imagine a modern solicitor's clerk "Taking a grinder!")

  'No, no, Mr. Pickwick,' said Jackson, in conclusion; 'Perker's people must guess what we served these subpoenas for. If they can't, they must wait till the action comes on, and then they'll find out.'

  Mr. Pickwick bestowed a look of excessive disgust on his unwelcome visitor, and would probably have hurled some tremendous anathema at the heads of Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, had not Sam's entrance at the instant interrupted him.

  'Samuel Weller?' said Mr. Jackson, inquiringly.

  'Vun o' the truest things as you've said for many a long year,' replied Sam, in a most composed manner.

  'Here's a subpoena for you, Mr. Weller,' said Jackson.

  'What's that in English?' inquired Sam.

  'Here's the original,' said Jackson, declining the required explanation.

  'Which?' said Sam.

  'This,' replied Jackson, shaking the parchment.

  'Oh, that's the 'rig'nal, is it?' said Sam. 'Well, I'm wery glad I've seen the 'rig'nal, 'cos it's a gratifyin' sort o' thing, and eases vun's mind so much.'

  'And here's the shilling,' said Jackson. 'It's from Dodson and Fogg's.'

  'And it's uncommon handsome o' Dodson and Fogg, as knows so little of me, to come down vith a present,' said Sam. 'I feel it as a wery high compliment, sir; it's a wery hon'rable thing to them, as they knows how to reward merit werever they meets it. Besides wich, it's affectin to one's feelin's.'

  As Mr. Weller said this, he inflicted a little friction on his right eye-lid, with the sleeve of his coat, after the most approved manner of actors when they are in domestic pathetics.

  Mr. Jackson seemed rather puzzled by Sam's proceedings; but, as he had served the subpoenas, and had nothing more to say, he made a feint of putting on the one glove which he usually carried in his hand, for the sake of appearances; and returned to the office to report progress.

  Another of Mr. Pickwick's foolish and self-willed proceedings was theinterview with Serjeant Snubbin, which he so positively insisted upon.We may wonder now-a-days would any K.C. of position have condescended toallow such a proceeding? I fancy it would be thought "irregular:" thoughperhaps _ex gratia_, and from the oddity of the proposal, it might beconceded.

  When Mr. Pickwick called upon him, it turned out that the Serjeant knewnothing whatever of his case; probably cared nothing about it. It wasnot in his line. He perhaps wondered why the old-fashioned lawyer had"retained" him. We learn Parker's reason:

  'Well, we've done everything that's necessary. I have engaged Serjeant Snubbin.'

  'Is he a good man?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

  'Good man!' replied Perker; 'bless your heart and soul, my dear sir, Serjeant Snubbin is at the very top of his profession. Gets treble the business of any man in court--engaged in every case. You needn't mention it abroad; but we say--we of the profession--that Serjeant Snubbin leads the court by the nose.'

  How foolish was this reasoning can be seen on an instant's reflection.To "lead the court by the nose" is well enough in an argument before ajudge: but here it was more important to lead _a jury_ by the nose, whichBuzfuz knew how to do. Moreover when a counsel has this power, itusually operates on a special judge and his colleagues; but who couldguarantee that Snubbin's special judge would try the case. As it turnedout, the Chief Justice fell sick before the day, and Mr. JusticeStareleigh unexpectedly took the case. He as it proved was anything but"led by the nose." Perker indeed, summed up the whole weakness of thecase in a single sentence:

  'They have subpoena'd my three friends,' said Mr. Pickwick.

  'Ah! of course they would,' replied Perker. 'Important witnesses; saw you in a delicate situation.'

>   'But she fainted of her own accord,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'She threw herself into my arms.'

  'Very likely, my dear sir,' replied Perker; 'very likely and very natural. Nothing more so, my dear sir, nothing. _But who's to prove it_?'

  A suggestion, we are told, that rather "staggered" Mr. Pickwick.

  Within ten minutes after he had received the assurance that the thing wasimpossible, he was conducted by his solicitors into the outer office ofthe great Serjeant Snubbin himself.

  It was an uncarpeted room of tolerable dimensions, with a large writing table drawn up near the fire, the baize top of which had long since lost all claim to its original hue of green, and had gradually grown grey with dust and age, except where all traces of its natural colour were obliterated by ink-stains. Upon the table were numerous little bundles of papers tied with red tape; and behind it, sat an elderly clerk, whose sleek appearance and heavy gold watch-chain presented imposing indications of the extensive and lucrative practice of Mr. Serjeant Snubbin.

  'Is the Serjeant in his room, Mr. Mallard?' inquired Perker, offering his box with all imaginable courtesy.

  'Yes, he is,' was the reply, 'but he's very busy. Look here; not an opinion given yet, on any one of these cases; and an expedition fee paid with all of them.' The clerk smiled as he said this, and inhaled the pinch of snuff with a zest which seemed to be compounded of a fondness for snuff and a relish for fees.

  'Something like practice that,' said Perker.

  'Yes,' said the barrister's clerk, producing his own box, and offering it with the greatest cordiality; 'and the best of it is, that as nobody alive except myself can read the Serjeant's writing, they are obliged to wait for the opinions, when he has given them, till I have copied 'em, ha--ha--ha!'

  'Which makes good for we know who, besides the Serjeant, and draws a little more out of his clients, eh?' said Perker; 'Ha, ha, ha!' At this the Serjeant's clerk laughed again--not a noisy boisterous laugh, but a silent, internal chuckle, which Mr. Pickwick disliked to hear. When a man bleeds inwardly, it is a dangerous thing for himself; but when he laughs inwardly, it bodes no good to other people.

  'You haven't made me out that little list of the fees that I'm in your debt, have you?' said Perker.

  'No, I have not,' replied the clerk.

  'I wish you would,' said Perker. 'Let me have them, and I'll send you a cheque. But I suppose you're too busy pocketing the ready money, to think of the debtors, eh? ha, ha, ha!' This sally seemed to tickle the clerk, amazingly, and he once more enjoyed a little quiet laugh to himself.

  'But, Mr. Mallard, my dear friend,' said Perker, suddenly recovering his gravity, and drawing the great man's great man into a corner, by the lappel of his coat, 'you must persuade the Serjeant to see me, and my client here.'

  'Come, come,' said the clerk, 'that's not bad either. See the Serjeant! come, that's too absurd.' Notwithstanding the absurdity of the proposal, however, the clerk allowed himself to be gently drawn beyond the hearing of Mr. Pickwick; and after a short conversation conducted in whispers, walked softly down a little dark passage and disappeared into the legal luminary's sanctum, from whence he shortly returned on tiptoe, and informed Mr. Perker and Mr. Pickwick that the Serjeant had been prevailed upon, in violation of all his established rules and customs, to admit them at once.

  The Serjeant was writing when his clients entered; he bowed abstractedly when Mr. Pickwick was introduced by his solicitor; and then, motioning them to a seat, put his pen carefully in the inkstand, nursed his left leg, and waited to be spoken to.

  'Mr. Pickwick is the defendant in Bardell and Pickwick, Serjeant Snubbin,' said Perker.

  'I am retained in that, am I?' said the Serjeant.

  'You are, Sir,' replied Perker.

  The Serjeant nodded his head, and waited for something else.

  'Mr. Pickwick was anxious to call upon you, Serjeant Snubbin,' said Perker, 'to state to you, before you entered upon the case, that he denies there being any ground or pretence whatever for the action against him; and that unless he came into court with clean hands, and without the most conscientious conviction that he was right in resisting the plaintiff's demand, he would not be there at all. I believe I state your views correctly; do I not, my dear Sir?' said the little man, turning to Mr. Pickwick.

  'Quite so,' replied that gentleman.

  Mr. Serjeant Snubbin unfolded his glasses, raised them to his eyes; and, after looking at Mr. Pickwick for a few seconds with great curiosity, turned to Mr. Perker, and said, smiling slightly as he spoke--

  'Has Mr. Pickwick a strong case?'

  The attorney shrugged his shoulders.

  'Do you purpose calling witnesses?'

  'No.'

  The smile on the Serjeant's countenance became more defined; he rocked his leg with increased violence, and, throwing himself back in his easy-chair, coughed dubiously.

  These tokens of the Serjeant's presentiments on the subject, slight as they were, were not lost on Mr. Pickwick. He settled the spectacles, through which he had attentively regarded such demonstrations of the barrister's feeling as he had permitted himself to exhibit, more firmly on his nose; and said with great energy, and in utter disregard of all Mr. Perker's admonitory winkings and frownings--

  'My wishing to wait upon you for such a purpose as this, Sir, appears, I have no doubt, to a gentleman who sees so much of these matters as you must necessarily do, a very extraordinary circumstance.'

  The Serjeant tried to look gravely at the fire, but the smile came back again.

  [Picture: Mr. Pickwick expounds his case to his Counsel]

  'Gentlemen of your profession, Sir,' continued Mr. Pickwick, 'see the worst side of human nature--all its disputes, all its ill-will and bad blood, rise up before you. You know from your experience of juries (I mean no disparagement to you or them) how much depends upon _effect_; and you are apt to attribute to others, a desire to use, for purposes of deception and self-interest, the very instruments which you, in pure honesty and honour of purpose, and with a laudable desire to do your utmost for your client, know the temper and worth of so well, from constantly employing them yourselves. I really believe that to this circumstance may be attributed the vulgar but very general notion of your being, as a body, suspicious, distrustful, and over-cautious. Conscious as I am, Sir, of the disadvantage of making such a declaration to you, under such circumstances, I have come here, because I wish you distinctly to understand, as my friend Mr. Perker has said, that I am innocent of the falsehood laid to my charge; and although I am very well aware of the inestimable value of your assistance, Sir, I must beg to add, that unless you sincerely believe this, I would rather be deprived of the aid of your talents than have the advantage of them.'

  Long before the close of this address, which we are bound to say was of a very prosy character for Mr. Pickwick, the Serjeant had relapsed into a state of abstraction.

  Now the Serjeant might at once have replied to all this, that theinnocence or guilt of a client had nothing to do with him, that his usewas merely to secure a client such benefit and advantage as the lawentitled him to: that a judge and jury would decide the point ofinnocence. Boz himself evidently shared this popular delusion, and seemsto be speaking by Mr. Pickwick's mouth. The sagacious Serjeant, however,took no notice whatever of the appeal, but simply asked "who was withhim" in the case. Mr. Phunky was sent for, and asked by his leader "totake Mr. Pickwick away" and "hear anything he may wish to communicate."The party was then bowed out.

  The truth was, Mr. Pickwick's attorney was too much of a social characterand of the "old family solicitor" pattern for so critical a ca
se. Thecounsel he "instructed" were unsuitable. Serjeant Snubbin was anoverworked "Chamber lawyer," whose whole time and experience was given tofurnishing "opinions" on tangled cases; so pressed was he that he took"expedition fees" to give certain cases priority: an illegitimatepractice that now the Bar Committee would scarcely tolerate. What couldsuch a man know of nisi prius trials, of cross-examining or handlingwitnesses? It is enough to give his portrait, as supplied by the author:

  [Picture: Serjeant Snubbin, K.C.]

  Mr. Serjeant Snubbin was a lantern-faced, sallow-complexioned man, of about five-and-forty, or--as the novels say--he might be fifty. He had that _dull-looking boiled eye_ which is often to be seen in the heads of people who have applied themselves during many years to a weary and laborious course of study; and which would have been sufficient, without the additional eye-glass which dangled from a broad black riband round his neck, to warn a stranger that he was very near-sighted. His hair was thin and weak, which was partly attributable to his having never devoted much time to its arrangement, and partly to his having worn for five-and-twenty years the forsenic wig which hung on a block beside him. The marks of hair powder on his coat collar, and the ill-washed and worse tied white neckerchief round his throat, showed that he had not found leisure since he left the court to make any alteration in his dress: while the slovenly style of the remainder of his costume warranted the inference that his personal appearance would not have been very much improved if he had. Books of practice, heaps of papers, and opened letters, were scattered over the table, without any attempt at order or arrangement; the furniture of the room was old and ricketty; the doors of the bookcase were rotting in their hinges; the dust flew out from the carpet in little clouds at every step; the blinds were yellow with age and dirt; the state of everything in the room showed, with a clearness not to be mistaken, that Mr. Serjeant Snubbin was far too much occupied with his professional pursuits to take any great heed or regard of his personal comforts.

  It was a characteristic feature of the slowness of legal process in thosedays that though the notice of action was sent on August the 28th, 1827,the case was not ripe for trial until February 14th of the nextyear--nearly six months having elapsed. It is difficult to speculate asto what this long delay was owing. There were only two witnesses whoseevidence had to be briefed--Mrs. Cluppins and Mrs. Sanders--and they wereat hand. It is odd, by the way, that they did not think of examininglittle Tommy Bardell, the only one who actually witnessed the proceeding.True, he was of tender years--about eight or ten--and the son of thePlaintiff, but he must have "known the nature of an oath."