So Mr. Pickwick, the general mentor, the philosopher and friend--the man
of high moral tone, "born to set the world aright"--the general lecturer
of his "followers," was now in for an action at law of the most awkward
and unpleasant kind. To be philandering with one's landlady! rather low
form this. But what would they say down at Manor Farm? How Isabella
Wardle and her sister--and all the girls--would laugh! And the spinster
aunt--_she_ would enjoy it! But there was no help for it. It must be
faced.
Naturally Mr. Pickwick felt uncomfortable, and his first idea was to
arrange the matter. This was a sensible course, and he ought at once to
have put the matter into the hands of his friend Perker, with full powers
to treat. But no. Mr. Pickwick's vanity and indiscretion made him
meddle in the business behind his solicitor's back, as it where, and with
damaging results to himself--a warning to all such amateurs. It must be
said that Dodson and Fogg's behaviour at the extraordinary visit which he
paid them was marked by a certain propriety. Mr. Pickwick insisted on
knowing what were the grounds of action--that is, the details of the
evidence 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 be
credible 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 that
if "it were so, he was a most unfortunate man," on which Dodson
promptly--"I hope you are, sir, I trust you may be, sir. If you are
really innocent, you are more unfortunate than I had believed any man
could possibly be."
Mr. Pickwick then rather foolishly asked did he understand they meant to
go on with the action--as if they could have been affected by his
declaration. "Understand?" was the reply, "that you certainly may"--a
very natural speech.
With some want of professional delicacy and etiquette, Dodson seized the
opportunity to "serve" Mr. Pickwick; but they were not a high-class firm
and their methods were not high-class. Then an extraordinarily
incredible display followed. His passion broke forth. "_Of all the
disgraceful and rascally proceedings he ever_, _etc._!" Dodson summoned
his clerks to listen to this gross language, and said, "Perhaps you would
like to call us swindlers." "_You are_," said Mr. Pickwick. Fogg even
wished him to assault them--and perhaps he would have done so, but for
Sam, who at last got him away. This was certainly not correct, but how
aggravating was Mr. Pickwick! One is rather astonished at the
forbearance of this sharp firm.
Now, had Mr. Pickwick gone straight to his lodgings in Goswell Street and
seen Mrs. Bardell, heard her views and claims, had he been told by her
that she had been professionally urged to go to law as she had such a
strong case--there might have been some excuse for this violence to
Dodson and Fogg. But he knew nothing whatever of the matter--knew
nothing of the attornies--and in his blind fury gratuitously assumed that
they had "conspired" to harass him in this way. True, he had overheard
how 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 and
anxious, and _insecure_. He took nothing by it. There was in truth much
short-sighted cunning in his ways, which came of his overweening vanity.
But this was only one of several attempts he made to worm out something
to his own advantage.
Another of Mr. Pickwick's foolish manoeuvres was his sending his man to
his 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 very
shallow sort of artfulness, and it was later to recoil on himself. Sam
of course saw through it at once. It never dawned on this simple-minded
man 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 might
seem impossible to invest them with any dramatic interest; but how
admirably has Boz lightened up and coloured the simple incident of an
attorney's clerk--a common, vulgar fellow of the lowest type, arriving to
serve his subpoenas on the witnesses--all assumed to be hostile. The
scene 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 the
interview with Serjeant Snubbin, which he so positively insisted upon.
We may wonder now-a-days would any K.C. of position have condescended to
allow such a proceeding? I fancy it would be thought "irregular:" though
perhaps _ex gratia_, and from the oddity of the proposal, it might be
conceded.
When Mr. Pickwick called upon him, it turned out that the Serjeant knew
nothing whatever of his case; probably cared nothing about it. It was
not 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 a
judge: but here it was more important to lead _a jury_ by the nose, which
Buzfuz knew how to do. Moreover when a counsel has this power, it
usually operates on a special judge and his colleagues; but who could
guarantee that Snubbin's special judge would try the case. As it turned
out, the Chief Justice fell sick before the day, and Mr. Justice
Stareleigh unexpectedly took the case. He as it proved was anything but
"led by the nose." Perker indeed, summed up the whole weakness of the
case 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 was
impossible, he was conducted by his solicitors into the outer office of
the 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 the
innocence or guilt of a client had nothing to do with him, that his use
was merely to secure a client such benefit and advantage as the law
entitled him to: that a judge and jury would decide the point of
innocence. Boz himself evidently shared this popular delusion, and seems
to be speaking by Mr. Pickwick's mouth. The sagacious Serjeant, however,
took no notice whatever of the appeal, but simply asked "who was with
him" in the case. Mr. Phunky was sent for, and asked by his leader "to
take 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 character
and of the "old family solicitor" pattern for so critical a case. The
counsel he "instructed" were unsuitable. Serjeant Snubbin was an
overworked "Chamber lawyer," whose whole time and experience was given to
furnishing "opinions" on tangled cases; so pressed was he that he took
"expedition fees" to give certain cases priority: an illegitimate
practice that now the Bar Committee would scarcely tolerate. What could
such a man know of nisi prius trials, of cross-examining or handling
witnesses? 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 those
days 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 next
year--nearly six months having elapsed. It is difficult to speculate as
to what this long delay was owing. There were only two witnesses whose
evidence had to be briefed--Mrs. Cluppins and Mrs. Sanders--and they were
at hand. It is odd, by the way, that they did not think of examining
little Tommy Bardell, the only one who actually witnessed the proceeding.
True, he was of tender years--about eight or ten--and the son of the
Plaintiff, but he must have "known the nature of an oath."