At last the momentous morning came round. It was the fourteenth of
February, Valentine's Day, 1828--one not of good omen for the Plaintiff.
{26} The Defendant's party was rather gloomy at breakfast, when Perker,
by wave of encouraging his client, uttered some _dicta_ as to the chances
of the Jury having had a good breakfast "Discontented or hungry jurymen,
my dear Sir, always find for the Plaintiff." "Bless my heart," said Mr.
Pickwick, looking very blank, "What do they do that for!"
The party then got into hackney coaches and was driven to the Guildhall,
where the case was to be tried at ten o'clock precisely.
[Picture: Exterior of the Guildhall Court.--Now City Museum]
[Picture: Interior of the Guildhall, Court, circa 1830. (From an
original drawing by T. Allen.)]
How dramatic Boz has made the "calling of the Jury," which might be
thought an uninteresting and prosaic operation enough. It was a special
jury, which entailed one guinea per head extra expense on Mr. Pickwick.
He had, of course, asked for it: but Dodson and Fogg would have been well
content with and perhaps even have preferred a common jury. Now-a-days,
special jurors, though summoned largely, have to be almost coerced into
attending. A fine of ten pounds is imposed, but this is almost
invariably remitted on affidavit. The common jurors, moreover, do not
show the reluctance to "serve" of Groffin, the chemist. A guinea is not
to be despised. There are, as it were, professional common jurors who
hang about the Courts in the hope of being thus called as "understudies."
On this occasion what was called a _Tales_ was prayed for, and two common
jurors were pressed into the service: and "a greengrocer and a chemist
were caught directly."
It is impossible to say too much of the completeness with which the legal
scene is put forward. Everything is dealt with. We have perfect
sketches of the judge, the ushers, the jury, the counsel on the case, the
witnesses, the barristers, the attorneys; we have the speeches, the
methods of examination and cross-examination.
There is nothing better or more life-like than the sketch of the court in
the chill morning, and before the actors came on the scene--the
inimitable description of the idle barristers hanging about "the Bar of
England," which is accurate to this hour.
Few could describe effectively the peculiar appearance of a crowd of
barristers assembled in a Court of Law. They are a type apart, and their
odd headgear accentuates all the peculiarities of their faces. No one
has, however, succeeded so well as Boz in touching off their
peculiarities. This sort of histrionic guise and bearing is assumed with
a view to impose on his friends and the public, to suggest an idea that
they have much or at least something to do.
'And that,' said Mr. Pickwick, pointing to a couple of enclosed seats
on his right, 'that's where the jurymen sit, is it not?'
'The identical place, my dear Sir,' replied Perker, tapping the lid
of his snuff-box.
Mr. Pickwick stood up in a state of great agitation and took a glance
at the court. There were already a pretty large sprinkling of
spectators in the gallery, and a numerous muster of gentlemen in wigs
in the barristers' seats, who presented, as a body, all that pleasing
and extensive variety of nose and whisker for which the bar of
England is so justly celebrated. Such of the gentlemen as had got a
brief to carry, carried it in as conspicuous a manner as possible,
and occasionally scratched their noses therewith, to impress the fact
more strongly on the observation of the spectators.
One of the happiest descriptions is surely that of the binding of law
books. A law library is the most repulsive and uninteresting thing in
the world. The colour of the leather is unhealthy and disagreeable, and
the necessary shading is secured at the expense of grace. Boz
characterises it as 'that under-done pie crust.'
Other gentlemen, who had no briefs to show, carried under their arms
goodly octavos, with a red label behind, and that
under-done-pie-crust-coloured cover, which is technically known as
"law calf." Others, who had neither briefs nor books, thrust their
hands into their pockets, and looked as wise as they conveniently
could; while others, again, moved here and there with great
restlessness and earnestness of manner, content to awaken thereby the
admiration and astonishment of the uninitiated stranger. The whole,
to the great wonderment of Mr. Pickwick, were divided into little
groups, who were chatting and discussing the news of the day in the
most unfeeling manner possible--just as if no trial at all were
coming on.
A bow from Mr. Phunky, as he entered, and took his seat behind the
row appropriated to the King's Counsel, attracted Mr. Pickwick's
attention; and he had scarcely returned it, when Mr. Serjeant Snubbin
appeared, followed by Mr. Mallard, who half hid the Serjeant behind a
large crimson bag, which he placed on his table, and after shaking
hands with Perker, withdrew. Then there entered two or three more
Serjeants, and among them, one with a fat body and a red face, who
nodded in a friendly manner to Mr. Serjeant Snubbin, and said it was
a fine morning.
'Who's that red-faced man, who said it was a fine morning and nodded
to our counsel?' whispered Mr. Pickwick.
'Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz,' replied Perker. 'He's opposed to us; he leads
on the other side. That gentleman behind him is Mr. Skimpin, his
junior.'
Mr. Pickwick was just on the point of inquiring, with great
abhorrence of the man's cold-blooded villainy, how Mr. Serjeant
Buzfuz, who was counsel for the opposite party, dared to presume to
tell Mr. Serjeant Snubbin, who was counsel for him, that it was a
fine morning,--when he was interrupted by a general rising of the
barristers, and a loud cry of 'Silence!' from the officers of the
court. Looking round, he found that this was caused by the entrance
of the Judge.
On reaching the Court, Perker said, "put Mr. Pickwick's friends in the
students' box. Mr. Pickwick had better sit by me." This useful
provision for the instruction of legal probationers has fallen into
desuetude--no place is reserved for the students now-a-days. Lord
Campbell describes the custom and recalls an incident that occurred when
he was sitting in the students' box, close to the Bench.
There were some matters of procedure which have since been changed--such
as Mr. Skimpin "calling for" Winkle, and the latter answering. This is
now done by an Officer of the Court. Skimpin also asks Winkle his name,
as a first question, though he had been sworn and had given it. And the
_mal-entendu_ as to "Daniel Nathaniel" could not then have occurred, as
the Officer would have obtained the name correctly. Another unusual
thing was that Buzfuz, after his long and rather exhausting speech,
should have examined the first witness. Now-a-days the junior would do
this. We may note that at this time it was always "my Lord," and "your
Lordship," with the full natural sound--we had not yet got to the clipped
"M'lud,'" and "your Ludship." Perhaps this form _was_ actually used by
the Counsel but was not noticed by Boz, or seemed to him the right thing.
The King's Counsel were behind and could stoop down to consult their
solicitors.
This minute observation and particularity of Boz is further shown in his
noting the very places where the Attorneys sat, and which he describes.
They had the seats next the table:
"You are quite right," said Buzfuz later on, answering the whisper of
Dodson and Fogg, after Sam's awkward revelation. How often have we seen
these hasty communications, which are not without their dramatic effect.