"I shall prove to you, gentlemen, that _about a year ago Pickwick
suddenly began to absent himself from home_, during long intervals, ('on
Pickwick Tours,') _as if with the intention of breaking off from my
client_: but I shall show you also that his resolutions were not at that
time sufficiently strong, or that his better feelings conquered, _if
better feelings he has_: or that the charms and accomplishments of my
client prevailed against his unmanly intentions." We may note the
reserve which suggested a struggle going on in Mr. Pickwick. And how
persuasive is Buzfuz's _exegesis_! Then, on the letters:
"These letters bespeak the character of the man. They are not open,
fervid, eloquent epistles breathing nothing but the language of
affectionate attachment. They are _covert_, _sly_, under-hand
communications, but, fortunately, far more conclusive than if couched in
the most glowing language. _Letters that must be viewed with a cautious
and supicious eye_: _letters that were evidently intended at the time_,
_by Pickwick_, _to mislead and delude any third parties into whose hands
they might fall_." The gravity and persuasiveness of all this is really
_impayable_. "Let me read the first: 'Garraway's, twelve o'clock. Dear
Mrs. B., Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick.' Gentlemen, what does
this mean? Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick. Chops! Gracious
Heavens!--and tomato sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive
and confiding female _to be trifled_ away by such artifices as these?
_The next has no date_ _whatever which is in itself suspicious_: 'Dear
Mrs. B., I shall not be at home until to-morrow. Slow coach.' And then
follows the very remarkable expression, 'Don't trouble yourself about the
warming pan.'"
There is a little bit of serious history connected with these letters
which I was the first I think to discover. They were intended to
satirise the trivial scraps brought forward in Mrs. Norton's matrimonial
case--Norton _v._ Lord Melbourne. My late friend, "Charles Dickens the
younger," as he used to call himself, in his notes on _Pickwick_, puts
aside this theory altogether as a mere unfounded fancy; but it will be
seen there cannot be a doubt in the matter. Sir W. Follett laid just as
much stress on these scraps as Serjeant Buzfuz did on his: he even used
the phrase, "it seems there may be latent love like latent heat, in these
productions." We have also, "Yours Melbourne," like "Yours Pickwick,"
the latter signing as though he were a Peer. "There is another of these
notes," went on Sir William, "How are you?" "Again there is no beginning
you see." "The next has no date, which is in itself suspicious," Buzfuz
would have added. Another ran--"I will call about half past four,
Yours." "_These_ are the only notes that have been found," added the
counsel, with due gravity, "_they seem to import much more than mere
words convey_." After this can there be a doubt?
This case was tried in June, 1836, and, it must be borne in mind, caused
a prodigious sensation all over the Kingdom. The Pickwick part,
containing the description, appeared about December, six months
afterwards. Only old people may recall Norton _v._ Melbourne, the fair
Caroline's wrongs have long been forgotten; but it is curious that the
memory of it should have been kept alive in some sort by this farcical
parody. Equally curious is it that the public should always have
insisted that she was the heroine of yet another story, George Meredith's
_Diana_, though the author has disclaimed it over and over again.
The Serjeant's dealing with the warming pan topic is a truly admirable
satiric touch, and not one bit far-fetched or exaggerated. Any one
familiar with suspicious actions has again and again heard comments as
plausible and as forced. "Don't trouble yourself about the warming pan!
The warming pan! Why, gentlemen, who _does_ trouble himself about a
warming pen?" A delicious _non sequitur_, sheer nonsense, and yet with
an air of conviction that is irresistable. "When was the peace of mind
of man or woman broken or disturbed by a warming pan which is in itself a
harmless, a useful _and I will add_, _gentlemen_, a comforting article of
domestic furniture?" He then goes on ingeniously to suggest that it may
be "a cover for hidden fire, a mere substitute for some endearing word or
promise, _agreeably to a preconcerted system_ of correspondence, artfully
contrived by Pickwick _with a view_ to his contemplated desertion and
which I am not in a position to explain?" Admirable indeed! One could
imagine a city jury in their wisdom thinking that there must be
_something_ in this warming pan!
Not less amusing and plausible is his dealing with the famous topic of
the "chops and tomato sauce," not "tomata" as Boz has it. I suppose
there is no popular allusion better understood than this. The very man
in the street knows all about it and what it means. Absurd as it may
seem, it is hardly an exaggeration. Counsel every day give weight to
points just as trivial and expound them elaborately to the jury. The
Serjeant's burst of horror is admirable, "Gentlemen, _what does this
mean_? 'Chops and tomata sauce! Yours Pickwick!' Chops! Gracious
Heavens! What does this mean? Is the happiness of a sensitive and
confiding female to be trifled away _by such shallow artifices as
these_?'"
I recall that admirable judge and pleasant man, the late Lord FitzGerald,
who was fond of talking of this trial, saying to me that Buzfuz lost a
good point here, as he might have dwelt on the mystic meaning of tomato
which is the "love apple," that here was the "secret correspondence," the
real "cover for hidden fire."
He concluded by demanding exemplary damages as "the recompense you can
award my client. And for these damages she now appeals to an
enlightened, a high-minded, a right feeling, a conscientious, a
dispassionate, a sympathising, a contemplative jury of her civilized
countrymen!"