Chapter II: Part 2

Though not gifted with oratorical powers which were likely to gain him employment as a leader, Gaselee's reputation for legal knowledge soon recommended him to a judge's place. He was accordingly selected on July 1st, 1824, to fill a vacancy in the Court of Common Pleas. In that Court he sat for nearly fourteen years "with the character of a painstaking judge, and in his private capacity as a worthy and benevolent man." Thus Mr. Foss, F.S.A.

The reader will have noted the Judge's severity to poor Groffin, the chemist, who had pleaded the danger of his boy mistaking oxalic acid for Epsom salts. Could it be that the Judge's experience as the son of a provincial doctor, had shown what class of man was before him? Later, unexpectedly, we learn that the Judge was a steady member for fourteen years of the Royal Humane Society, of which institution he was also a Vice-President.

But we now come to a most extraordinary thing--the result of the young author's telling and most sarcastic portrait of the irascible little judge. It is curious that Forster, while enumerating various instances of Boz's severe treatment of living persons, as a sort of chastisement for their defects of manner or character, seems not to have thought of this treatment of the judge--and passes it by. Nor did he notice the prompt result that followed on the sketch. The report of the trial appeared in the March number, 1837--and we are told, the luckless judge retired from the Bench, shortly after the end of Hilary Term, that is in April or the beginning of May. We may assume that the poor gentleman could not endure the jests of his _confreres_ or the scarcely concealed tittering of the Barristers, all of whom had of course devoured and enjoyed the number. We may say that the learned Sergeant Buzfuz was not likely to be affected in any way by _his_ picture; it may indeed have added to his reputation. I confess to some sympathy for the poor old judge who was thus driven from the Bench. Sam Foote was much given to this sort of personal attack, and made the lives of some of his victims wretched. Boz, however, seems to have felt himself called upon to act thus as public executioner on two occasions only. After the fall of the judge in June, 1837, he wanted a model for a tyrannical magistrate in _Oliver Twist_--and Mr. Laing, the Hatton Garden Magistrate--a harsh, ferocious personage, at once occurred to him. He wrote accordingly to one of his friends that he wished to be _smuggled_ into his office some morning to study him. This "smuggling" of course meant the placing him where he would not be observed--as a magistrate knowing his "sketches" might recognise him. "I know the man perfectly well" he added. So he did, for he forgot that he had introduced him already in _Pickwick_ as Nupkins--whose talk is exactly alike, in places almost word for word to that of "Mr. Fang."

These palliations, Boz, a young fellow of three and twenty or so, did not pause to weigh. He only saw a testy, red-faced old fellow with goggle eyes, and seventy-four years old, and past his work. His infirmities already made him incapable of carrying through the business of the Court as the mistake, "Is it Daniel Nathaniel or Nathaniel Daniel?" shows. It is curious, however, that this weakness of misapprehending names is described of another judge, Arabin--a strange grotesque. Theodore Hook gives an amusing specimen in his Gilbert Gurney.

From the general description in the text, it is evident Stareleigh was the prey of gouty affections--which swelled him into grotesque shape, and he found himself unequal to the office. He died two years after his retirement at No. 13, Montagu Place, Russell Square; so that the Judge in Bardell _v._ Pickwick was living close to Perker the Attorney in the same case. Here we seem to mix up the fictional and the living characters, but this is the law of _Pickwick_--the confines between the two worlds being quite confused or broken down. The late commander of our forces in China, Sir A. Gaselee, is of this family. It should be remembered, however, when we think of this judge's frowardness, that judges in those times were dictatorial and carried matters with a high hand. There were often angry conflicts between them, and members of the Bar, and Stareleigh was really not so very tyrannical. He did what so many judges do--took a side from the first, and had decided in his own mind that Mr. Pickwick could not possibly have a case. That curious form of address from the Bench is now no longer heard--"who is with you, _Brother Buzfuz_?" Judges and sergeants were then common members of the Guild--both wore the "coif."

THE COURT.

When the swearing of the jury is going on, how good, and how natural is the scene with the unfortunate chemist.

'Answer to your names, gentlemen that you may be sworn,' said the
gentleman in black. 'Richard Upwitch.'

'Here,' said the greengrocer.

'Thomas Groffin.'

'Here,' said the chemist.

'Take the book, gentlemen. You shall well and truly try--'

'I beg this court's pardon,' said the chemist, who was a tall, thin,
yellow-visaged man, 'but I hope this court will excuse my
attendance.'

'On what grounds, sir?' replied Mr. Justice Stareleigh.

'I have no assistant, my Lord,' said the chemist.

'I can't help that, sir,' replied Mr. Justice Stareleigh. 'You
should hire one.'

'I can't afford it, my Lord,' rejoined the chemist.

'Then you ought to be able to afford it, sir,' said the judge,
reddening; for Mr. Justice Stareleigh's temper bordered on the
irritable, and brooked not contradiction.

'I know I _ought_ to do, if I got on as well as I deserved, but I
don't, my Lord,' answered the chemist.

'Swear the gentleman,' said the judge, peremptorily.

The officer had got no farther than the 'You shall well and truly
try,' when he was again interrupted by the chemist.

'I am to be sworn, my Lord, am I?' said the chemist.

'Certainly, sir,' replied the testy little judge.

'Very well, my Lord,' replied the chemist in a resigned manner.
'There'll be murder before this trial's over; that's all. Swear me,
if you please, sir;' and sworn the chemist was, before the judge
could find words to utter.

'I merely wanted to observe, my Lord,' said the chemist, taking his
seat with great deliberation, 'that I've left nobody but an errand
boy in my shop. He is a very nice boy, my Lord, but he is not
acquainted with drugs; and I know that the prevailing impression on
his mind is, that Epsom salts means oxalic acid; and syrup of senna,
laudanum. That's all, my Lord.' With this, the tall chemist
composed himself into a comfortable attitude, and, assuming a
pleasant expression of countenance, appeared to have prepared himself
for the worst.

One who was born in the same year as Boz, but who was to live for thirty years after him, Henry Russell--composer and singer of "The Ivy Green"--was, when a youth, apprenticed to a chemist, and when about ten years old, that is five years before Bardell _v._ Pickwick, was left in charge of the shop. He discovered just in time that he had served a customer who had asked for Epsom salts with poison sufficient to kill fifty people. On this he gave up the profession. I have little doubt that he told this story to his friend a dozen years later, and that it was on Boz's mind when he wrote. Epsom salts was the drug mentioned in both instances.

It must be said that even in our day a defendant for Breach, with Mr. Pickwick's story and surroundings, would have had small chance with a city jury. They saw before them a benevolent-looking Lothario, of a Quaker-like air, while all the witnesses against him were his three most intimate friends and his own man.

We have, of course, testy judges now, who may be "short" in manner, but I think it can be affirmed that no judge of our day could behave to counsel or witnesses as Mr. Justice Stareleigh did. It is, in fact, now the tone for a judge to affect a sort of polished courtesy, and to impart a sort of light gaiety to the business he is transacting. All asperity and tyrannous rudeness is held to be out of place. Hectoring and bullying of witnesses will not be tolerated. The last exhibition was perhaps that of the late Dr. Kenealy in the Tichborne case.

All the swearing of jurymen before the court, with the intervention of the judge, has been got rid of. The Master of the Court, or Chief Clerk, has a number of interviews--at his public desk--with important individuals, bringing him signed papers. These are excuses of some sort--medical certificates, etc.--with a view to be "let off" serving. Some--most, perhaps--are accepted, some refused. A man of wealth and importance can have little difficulty. Of course this would be denied by the jurists: but, somehow, the great guns contrive not to attend. At ten o'clock this officer proceeds to swear the jury, which is happily accomplished by the time the judge enters.

SERJEANT BUZFUZ.

Mr. Pickwick, considering the critical nature of his case, was certainly unfortunate in his solicitor, as well as in the Counsel selected by his solicitors. The other side were particularly favoured in this matter. They had a pushful bustling "wide-awake" firm of solicitors, who let not a point escape. Sergeant Buzfuz was exactly the sort of advocate for the case--masterful, unscrupulous, eloquent, and with a singularly ingenious faculty for putting everything on his client's side in the best light, and his adversary's in the worst. He could "tear a witness to pieces," and turn him inside out. His junior, Skimpin, was glib, ready-armed at all points, and singularly adroit in "making a hare" of any witness who fell into his hands, _teste_ Winkle. He had all the professional devices for dealing with a witness's answers, and twisting them to his purpose, at his fingers' ends. He was the Wontner or Ballantyne of his day. Mr. Pickwick's "bar" was quite outmatched. They were rather a feeble lot, too respectable altogether, and really not familiar with this line of business. Even the judge was against them from the very start, so Mr. Pickwick had very poor chances indeed. All this was due to that old-fashioned and rather incapable "Family Solicitor" Perker.

[Picture: Serjeant Buzfuz, K.C.]

Serjeant Buzfuz is known the world all over, at least wherever English is known. I myself was once startled in a fashionable West End church to hear a preacher, when emphasizing the value and necessity of Prayer, and the certainty with which it is responded to, use this illustration: "As Serjeant Buzfuz said to Sam Weller, '_There is little to do and plenty to get_.'" Needless to say, an amused smile, if not a titter, passed round the congregation. But it is the Barrister who most appreciates the learned Serjeant. For the topics he argued and his fashion of arguing them, bating a not excessive exaggeration, comes home to them all. Nay, they must have a secret admiration, and fondly think how excellently well such and such topics are put, and how they must have told with a jury.

Buzfuz, it is now well known, was drawn from a leading serjeant of his day, Serjeant Bompas, K.C. Not so long since I was sitting by Bompas's son, the present Judge Bompas, at dinner, and a most agreeable causeur he was. Not only did Boz sketch the style and fashion of the serjeant, but it is clear that Phiz drew the figure and features.

"I am the youngest son of Serjeant Bompas," Judge Bompas writes to me, "and have never heard it doubted that the name Buzfuz was taken from my father who was at that time considered a most successful advocate. I think he may have been chosen for the successful advocate because he was so successful: but I have never been able to ascertain that there was any other special resemblance. I do not remember my father myself: he died when I was eight years old. But I am told I am like him in face. He was tall (five feet ten inches) and a large man, very popular, and very excitable in his cases, so that I am told that Counsel against him used to urge him, out of friendship, not to get so agitated. A connection of mine who knew him well, went over to hear Charles Dickens read the Trial Scene, to see if he at all imitated him in voice or manner, but told me that he did not do so at all. I think, therefore, that having chosen his name, as a writer might now that of Sir Charles Russell, he then drew a general type of barrister, as he thought it might be satirised. My father, like myself, was on the Western Circuit and leader of it at the time of his death."

"I had a curious episode happen to me once. A client wrote to apply to the court to excuse a juror on the ground that he was a chemist and had no assistant who understood the drugs. It was not till I made the application and the Court began to laugh that I remembered the Pickwick Trial. I believe the application was quite bona fide, and not at all an imitation of it." An interesting communication from one who might be styled "Buzfuz's son;" and, as Judge Bompas alludes to his own likeness to his sire, I may add that the likeness to the portrait in the court scene, is very striking indeed. There is the same fullness of face, the large features. Buzfuz was certainly a counsel of power and ability, and I think lawyers will admit he managed Mrs. Bardell's case with much adroitness. His speech, besides being a sort of satirical abstract of the unamiable thundering boisterousness addressed to juries in such cases, is one of much ability. He makes the most of every topic that he thought likely to "tell" on a city jury. We laugh heartily at his would-be solemn and pathetic passages, but these are little exaggerated. Buzfuz's statement is meant to show how counsel, quite legitimately, can bring quite innocent acts to the support of their case by marshalling them in suspicious order, and suggesting that they had a connection with the charge made. Many a client thus becomes as bewildered as Mr. Pickwick was, on seeing his own harmless proceedings assuming quite a guilty complexion.

Serjeant Buzfuz-Bompas died at the age of fifty-three, at his house in Park Road, Regents Park, on February 29th, 1844. He was then, comparatively, a young man, and must have had ability to have attained his position so early. He was called to the Bar in 1815, and began as Serjeant in 1827, in Trinity Term, only a year or so before the famous case was tried.

So dramatic is the whole "Trial" in its action and characters, that it is almost fit for the stage as it stands. There have been a great number of versions, one by the author's son, Charles "the Younger," one by Mr. Hollingshead, and so on. It is a favorite piece for charitable benefits, and a number of well-known performers often volunteer to figure as "Gentlemen of the Jury." Buzfuz has been often played by Mr. Toole, but his too farcical methods scarcely enhanced the part. The easiness of comedy is essential. That sound player Mr. James Fernander is the best Buzfuz that I have seen.

There is a French translation of _Pickwick_, in which the general spirit of the "Trial" is happily conveyed. Thus Mr. Phunky's name is given as "M. Finge," which the little judge mistakes for "M. Singe." Buzfuz's speech too is excellent, especially his denouncing the Defendant's coming with his chops "_et son ignoble bassinoire_" i.e., warming pan.

THE OPENING SPEECH.

Buzfuz's great speech is one of the happiest parodies in the language. Never was the forensic jargon and treatment so humorously set forth--and this because of the perfect _sincerity_ and earnestness with which it was done. There is none of the far-fetched, impossible exaggeration--the form of burlesque which Theodore Hook or Albert Smith might have attempted. It is, in fact, a real speech, which might have been delivered to a dull-headed audience without much impairing credibility. Apart from this it is a most effective harangue and most plausible statement of the Plaintiff's case.

A little professional touch, which is highly significant as part of the pantomine, and which Boz made very effective at the reading, was the Serjeant's dramatic preparation for his speech. "Having whispered to Dodson and conferred briefly with Fogg, _he pulled his gown over his shoulders_, _settled his wig_, and addressed the Jury." Who has not seen this bit of business?

Again, Juries may have noted that the Junior as he rises to speak, mumbles something that is quite inaudible, and which nobody attends to. This is known as "opening the pleadings."

The ushers again called silence, and Mr. Skimpin proceeded to 'open
the case;' and the case appeared to have very little inside it when
he had opened it, for he kept such particulars as he knew, completely
to himself, and sat down, after a lapse of three minutes, leaving the
jury in precisely the same advanced stage of wisdom as they were in
before.

Serjeant Buzfuz then rose with all the majesty and dignity which the
grave nature of the proceedings demanded, and having whispered to
Dodson, and conferred briefly with Fogg, pulled his gown over his
shoulders, settled his wig, and addressed the jury.

A most delightful legal platitude, as one might call it, is to be found in the opening of the learned Sergeant's speech. It is a familiar, transparent thing, often used to impose on the Jury. As Boz says of another topic, "Counsel often begins in this way because it makes the jury think what sharp fellows they must be." "You have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen," continued the Serjeant, well knowing that from the learned friend alluded to they had heard just nothing at all, "you have heard from my learned friend, that this is an action for Breach of Promise of Marriage, in which the damages are laid at 1,500 pounds. But you have _not heard from my learned friend_, _inasmuch as it did not lie within my learned friend's province to tell you_, what are the facts and circumstances of the case." This rich bit of circumlocution is simple nonsense, in rotund phrase, and meant to suggest the imposing majesty of legal process. The Jury knew perfectly beforehand what they were going to try: but were to be impressed by the magnifying agency of legal processes, and would be awe stricken accordingly. The passage, "inasmuch as it did not lie within my learned friend's province to tell you," is a delightful bit of cant. In short, the Jury was thus admitted to the secret legal arena, and into community with the learned friends themselves, and were persuaded that they were very sharp fellows indeed. What pleasant satire is here, on the mellifluous "openings" of Counsel, the putting a romantic gloss on the most prosaic incidents.

A sucking Barrister might well study this speech of Buzfuz as a guide to the conducting of a case, and above all of rather a "shaky" one. Not less excellent is his smooth and plausible account of Mrs. Bardell's setting up in lodging letting. He really makes it "interesting." One thinks of some fluttering, helpless young widow, setting out in the battle of life.

He describes the poor innocent lady putting a bill in her window, "and let me entreat the attention of the Jury to the wording of this document--'Apartments furnished for a single gentleman!' Mrs. Bardell's opinions of the opposite sex, gentlemen, were derived from a long contemplation of the inestimable qualities of her lost husband. She had no fear--she had no distrust--she had no suspicion--all was confidence and reliance. 'Mr. Bardell,' said the widow: 'Mr. Bardell was a man of honour--Mr. Bardell was a man of his word--Mr. Bardell was no deceiver--Mr. Bardell was once a single gentleman himself; to single gentlemen I look for protection, for assistance, for comfort, and for consolation--in single gentlemen I shall perpetually see something to remind me of what Mr. Bardell was, when he first won my young and untried affections; to a single gentleman, then, shall my lodgings be let.' Actuated by this beautiful and touching impulse (among the best impulses of our imperfect nature, gentlemen), the lonely and desolate widow dried her tears, furnished her first floor, caught her innocent boy to her maternal bosom, and put the bill up in her parlour window. Did it remain there long? No. The serpent was on the watch, the train was laid, the mine was preparing, the sapper and miner was at work. Before the bill had been in the parlour window three days--three days, gentlemen--a being, erect upon two legs, and bearing all the outward semblance of a man, and not of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell's house. He enquired within."

Those who attended the Reading will recall the admirable briskness, and more admirable spirit with which Boz delivered the passage "by the evidence of the unimpeachable female whom I shall place in that"--here he brought down his palm with a mighty slap on the desk, and added, after a moment's pause, "_Box_ before you." It was that _preceding_ of the stroke that told. So real was it, one fancied oneself listening to some obstreperous counsel. In all true acting--notably on the French boards--the gesture should a little precede the utterance. So the serjeant knew something of art.

When Mr. Pickwick gave an indignant start on hearing himself described as a heartless villain how cleverly does the capable Buzfuz turn the incident to profit.

[Picture: Mr. Pickwick as a Monster]

'I say systematic villany, gentlemen,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, looking
through Mr. Pickwick, and talking _at_ him; 'and when I say
systematic villiany, let me tell the defendant, Pickwick, if he be in
court, as I am informed he is, that it would have been more decent in
him, more becoming, in better judgment and in better taste, if he had
stopped away. Let me tell him, gentlemen, that any gestures of
dissent or disapprobation in which he may indulge in this court will
not go down with you; that you will know how to value, and to
appreciate them; and let me tell him further, as my lord will tell
you, gentlemen, that a counsel, in the discharge of his duty to his
client, is neither to be intimidated nor bullied, nor put down; and
that any attempt to do either the one or the other, or the first or
the last, will recoil on the head of the attempter, be he plaintiff
or be he defendant, be his name Pickwick, or Noakes, or Stoakes, or
Stiles, or Brown, or Thompson.'

This little divergence from the subject in hand, had of course the
intended effect of turning all eyes to Mr. Pickwick.

We relish, too, another "common form." When the Serjeant found that his jest as to "greasing the wheels of Mr. Pickwick's slow-coach" had somewhat missed fire--a thing that often unaccountably happens, in the case of the "twelve intelligent men," the Serjeant knew how to adroitly recover himself.

He paused in this place to see whether the jury smiled at his joke;
but as nobody took it but the greengrocer, whose sensitiveness on the
subject was very probably occasioned by his having subjected a
chaise-cart to the process in question on that identical morning, the
learned Serjeant considered it advisable to undergo a slight relapse
into the dismals before he concluded.

'But enough of this, gentlemen,' said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz, 'it is
difficult to smile with an aching heart; it is ill jesting when our
deepest sympathies are awakened. My client's hopes and prospects are
ruined, and it is no figure of speech to say that her occupation is
gone indeed. The bill is down--but there is no tenant. Eligible
single gentlemen pass and repass--but there is no invitation for them
to enquire within or without. All is gloom and silence in the house;
even the voice of the child is hushed; his infant sports are
disregarded when his mother weeps; his "alley tors" and his
"commoneys" are alike neglected; he forgets the long familiar cry of
"knuckle down," and at tip-cheese, or odd and even, his hand is out.
But Pickwick, gentlemen, Pickwick, the ruthless destroyer of this
domestic oasis in the desert of Goswell Street--Pickwick, who has
choked up the well, and thrown ashes on the sward--Pickwick, who
comes before you to-day with his heartless tomato sauce and
warming-pans--Pickwick still rears his head with unblushing
effrontery, and gazes without a sigh on the ruin he has made.
Damages, gentlemen--heavy damages is the only punishment with which
you can visit him.'

THE INCRIMINATING LETTERS.

"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!"

THE PLAINTIFF'S CASE.

It was really of a very flimsy kind but "bolstered-up" and carried through by the bluster of the serjeant and the smartness of his junior. It rested first on a dialogue between Mr. Pickwick and his landlady which was overheard, in fact by several persons; second, on a striking situation witnessed by his three friends who entered unexpectedly and surprised him with Mrs. Bardell in his arms; third, on some documentary evidence, and lastly, on a damaging incident disclosed by Winkle.

The first witness "put in the box," was Mrs. Martha Cluppins--an intimate friend of the plaintiffs.

We know that she was sister to Mrs. Raddle, who lived far away in Southwark, and was the landlady of Mr. Sawyer. She might have been cross-examined with effect as to her story that she had been "out buying kidney pertaties," etc. Why buy these articles in Goswell Street and come all the way from Southwark? What was she doing there at all? This question could have been answered only in one way--which was that the genial author fancied at the moment she was living near Mrs. Bardell.

Besides this, there was another point which Snubbin, in cross-examination, ought to have driven home. Mrs. Cluppins was of an inferior type, of the common washerwoman or "charing" sort; her language was of Mrs. Gamp's kind; "which her name was" so and so. Yet, this creature, in another room, or on the stairs, the door being "on the jar," can repeat with her limited appreciation, those dubious and imperfect utterances of Mr. Pickwick! How could she remember all? Or could she understand them? Impossible! She, however, may have caught up something.

Winkle, too, said he heard something as he came up the stairs--"Compose yourself my dear creature, for consider if any one were to come," etc. But what could be the value of evidence heard in this way? Would a jury believe it? "Not only," as Sam said, "is 'wision limited,'" but hearing also.

In short, the delicate subtleties of the conversation between Mr. Pickwick and Mrs. Bardell would be wholly lost in her hands. Persons of her class know nothing of suggestion or double meanings or reserved intention, everything for them must be in black and white. How unlikely, therefore, that through the panels of a door or through the half opened door, ("she said on the jar,") could she catch the phrases and their meanings, and, above all, retain them in her memory? No doubt, as the counsel put it bluntly, she listened, and with all her ears.

However this may be, here is what Mrs. Cluppins deposed to:

'Mrs. Cluppins,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, 'pray compose yoursel, ma'am;'
and, of course, directly Mrs. Cluppins was desired to compose herself
she sobbed with increased violence, and gave divers alarming
manifestations of an approaching fainting fit, or, as she afterwards
said, of her feelings being too many for her.

'Do you recollect, Mrs. Cluppins?' said Serjeant Buzfuz, after a few
unimportant questions--'do you recollect being in Mrs. Bardell's back
one pair of stairs, on one particular morning in July last, when she
was dusting Mr. Pickwick's apartment?'

'Yes, my Lord and jury, I do,' replied Mrs. Cluppins.

'Mr. Pickwick's sitting-room was the first floor front, I believe?'

'Yes it were, sir,' replied Mrs. Cluppins.

'What were you doing in the back room, ma'am?' inquired the little
judge.

'My Lord and jury,' said Mrs. Cluppins, with interesting agitation,
'I will not deceive you.'

'You had better not, ma'am,' said the little judge.

'I was there,' resumed Mrs. Cluppins, 'unbeknown to Mrs. Bardell; I
had been out with a little basket, gentlemen, to buy three pounds of
red kidney pertaties, which was three pound, tuppense ha'penny, when
I see Mrs. Bardell's street door on the jar.'

'On the what?' exclaimed the little judge.

'Partly open, my Lord,' said Serjeant Snubbin.

'She _said_ on the jar,' said the little judge with a cunning look.

'It's all the same, my lord,' said Serjeant Snubbin. The little
judge looked doubtful, and said he'd make a note of it. Mrs.
Cluppins then resumed--

'I walked in, gentlemen, just to say good mornin', and went in a
permiscuous manner up-stairs, and into the back room. Gentlemen,
there was the sound of voices in the front room, and--'

'And you listened, I believe, Mrs. Cluppins,' said Serjeant Buzfuz.

'Beggin' your pardon, sir,' replied Mrs. Cluppins, in a majestic
manner, 'I would scorn the haction. The voices was very loud, sir,
and forced themselves upon my ear.'

'Well, Mrs. Cluppins, you were not listening, but you heard the
voices. Was one of those voices Mr. Pickwick's?'

'Yes, it were, sir.'

And Mrs. Cluppins, after distinctly stating that Mr. Pickwick
addressed himself to Mrs. Bardell, repeated by slow degrees, and by
dint of many questions the conversation with which our readers are
already acquainted.

Now we have to turn back to one of the earlier passages in the story for the conversation between the pair, "with which the reader is already acquainted." Thus we shall know what Mrs. Cluppin's might have heard.

Mr. Pickwick paced the room to and fro with hurried steps, popped his
head out of the window at intervals of about three minutes each,
constantly referred to his watch, and exhibited many other
manifestations of impatience, very unusual with him. It was evident
that something of great importance was in contemplation, but what
that something was not even Mrs. Bardell herself had been enabled to
discover.

'Mrs. Bardell,' said Mr. Pickwick at last, as that amiable female
approached the termination of a prolonged dusting of the apartment.

'Sir,' said Mrs. Bardell.

'Your little boy is a very long time gone.'

'Why, it's a good long way to the Borough, sir,' remonstrated Mrs.
Bardell.

'Ah,' said Pickwick, 'very true; so it is.'

Mr. Pickwick relapsed into silence, and Mrs. Bardell resumed her
dusting.

'Mrs. Bardell,' said Mr. Pickwick, at the expiration of a few
minutes.

'Sir,' said Mrs. Bardell again.

'Do you think it's a much greater expense to keep two people, than to
keep one?'

'La, Mr. Pickwick,' said Mrs. Bardell, colouring up to the very
border of her cap, as she fancied she observed a species of
matrimonial twinkle in the eyes of her lodger, 'La, Mr. Pickwick,
what a question!'

'Well, but _do_ you?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.

'That depends--' said Mrs. Bardell, approaching the duster very near
to Mr. Pickwick's elbow, which was planted on the table; 'that
depends a good deal upon the person, you know, Mr. Pickwick; and
whether it's a saving and careful person, sir.'

'That's very true,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'but the person I have in my
eye (here he looked very hard at Mrs. Bardell) I think possesses
these qualities; and has, moreover, a considerable knowledge of the
world, and a great deal of sharpness, Mrs. Bardell; which may be of
material use to me.'

'La, Mr. Pickwick,' said Mrs. Bardell; the crimson rising to her
cap-border again.

'I do,' said Mr. Pickwick, growing energetic, as was his wont in
speaking of a subject which interested him, 'I do, indeed; and to
tell you the truth, Mrs. Bardell, I have made up my mind.'

'Dear me, sir,' exclaimed Mrs. Bardell.

'You'll think it very strange, now,' said the amiable Mr. Pickwick,
with a good humoured glance at his companion, 'that I never consulted
you about this matter, and never even mentioned it, till I sent your
little boy out this morning, eh?'

Mrs. Bardell could only reply by a look. She had long worshipped Mr.
Pickwick at a distance, but here she was, all at once, raised to a
pinnacle to which her wildest and most extravagant hopes and never
dared to aspire. Mr. Pickwick was going to propose--a deliberate
plan, too--sent her little boy to the Borough, to get him out of the
way--how thoughtful--how considerate!'

'Well,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'what do you think?'

'Oh, Mr. Pickwick,' said Mrs. Bardell, trembling with agitation,
'you're very kind, sir.'

'It'll save you a good deal of trouble, won't it?' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Oh, I never thought anything of the trouble, sir,' replied Mrs.
Bardell; 'and, of course, I should take more trouble to please you
then, than ever; but it is so kind of you, Mr. Pickwick, to have so
much consideration for my loneliness.'

'Ah, to be sure,' said Mr. Pickwick; 'I never thought of that. When
I am in town, you'll always have somebody to sit with you. To be
sure, so you will.'

'I'm sure I ought to be a very happy woman,' said Mrs. Bardell.

'And your little boy--' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Bless his heart,' interposed Mrs. Bardell, with a maternal sob.

'He, too, will have a companion,' resumed Mr. Pickwick, 'a lively
one, who'll teach him, I'll be bound, more tricks in a week than he
would ever learn in a year.' And Mr. Pickwick smiled placidly.

'Oh, you dear--' said Mrs. Bardell.

Mr. Pickwick started.

'Oh, you kind, good, playful dear,' said Mrs. Bardell; and without
more ado, she rose from her chair, and flung her arms round Mr.
Pickwick's neck, with a cataract of tears, and a chorus of sobs.

'Bless my soul,' cried the astonished Mr. Pickwick;--'Mrs. Bardell,
my good woman--dear me, what a situation--pray--consider, Mrs.
Bardell, if anybody should come.'

'O, let them come,' exclaimed Mrs. Bardell, frantically.

'I'll never leave you, dear, kind, good soul.' And with these words
Mrs. Bardell clung the tighter.

Every utterance of the little Judge is in character, from his first directions "go on." His suspicious question, "what were you doing in the back room, ma'am?"--and on Serjeant Buzfuz's sudden pause for breath, when "the _silence_ awoke Mr. Justice Stareleigh, who immediately wrote down something, with a pen without any ink in it, and looked unusually profound, to impress his jury with the belief that he always thought most deeply with his eyes shut." Also when at the "on the jar" incident--he "looked doubtful, but said he'd make a note of it." So when Sam made one of his free and easy speeches, the Judge looked sternly at Sam for fully two minutes, but Sam's features were so perfectly calm that he said nothing. When Sam, too, made his witty _reposte_ to Buzfuz as to his "wision being limited," we are told that there was a great laugh--that even "the little Judge smiled:" a good touch, for he enjoyed, like other judges, seeing his learned brother get a fall--'tis human nature.

It must be said the impression of a listener, who had heard all this could have been anything but favourable to Mr. Pickwick. No doubt there was his paternally benevolent character to correct it: but even this might go against him as it would suggest a sort of hypocrisy. Even the firmest friends, in their surprise, do not pause to debate or reason; they are astonished and wonder exceedingly.

WINKLE'S EVIDENCE.

Skimpin may have been intended for Wilkin, a later Serjeant and well-known in the 'fifties, and whose style and manner is reproduced. We could not ask a better junior in a "touch and go" case. He was as ready to take advantage of any opening as was the late Lord Bowen, when he was junior in the Tichborne case.

[Picture: Mr. Skimpin]

On entering the Box, Mr. Winkle "bowed to the Judge," with considerable deference, a politeness quite thrown away. "Don't look at me sir," said the Judge sharply, "look at the Jury." This was ungracious, but judges generally don't relish any advances from witnesses or others.

When poor Winkle was accused by the Judge of giving his name as Daniel, he was told that "he had better be careful:" on which the ready Skimpin: "Now, Mr. Winkle attend to me if you please: and let me recommend you, for your own sake, to bear in mind his lordship's injunction to be careful." Thus by the agency of Judge and counsel witness was discredited at starting and of course flurried.

'I believe you are a particular friend of Pickwick, the defendant,
are you not?

Winkle, eager to retrieve himself by being "careful" began--

'I have known Mr. Pickwick now as well as I recollect at this moment,
nearly--'

'Pray, Mr. Winkle, don't evade the question. Are you, or are you not
a particular friend of the defendant?'

'I was just about to say that--'

'Will you, or will you not answer my question, sir?'

'If you don't you'll be committed, sir,' interposed the little Judge.

'Come, sir,' said Mr. Skimpin, '_yes or no_, _if you please_.'

'Yes, I am,' replied Mr. Winkle.

'_Yes_, _you are_. _And why couldn't you say that at once_, _sir_?'

I think there is no more happy touch of legal satire in the books than that about "What the soldier said." It is perfect, so complete, that it is always understood by unprofessional readers. The lawyer feels at once that it is as true as it is happy.

'Little to do and plenty to get,' said Serjeant Buzfuz to Sam.

'O, quite enough to get, sir, as the soldier said ven they ordered
him three hundred and fifty lashes.'

'_You must not tell us what the soldier or any other man said_,
_sir_; _it's not evidence_,' interposed the Judge.

Who will forget the roar that always greeted this sally when Boz read it, or the low and slow solemnity which he imparted to the Judge's dictum. As an illustration it is simply admirable.

Boz himself would have been pleased to find himself quoted in two impressive legal tomes of some 1800 pages. The great and laborious John Pitt Taylor could not have been wholly a legal dry-as-dust: for the man who could have gravely entered Bardell _v._ Pickwick in his notes and have quoted a passage must have had a share of humour.

Most people know that it is a strict principle that "hearsay evidence" of an utterance will not be accepted in lieu of that of the person to whom the remark was made. Neither can we think it out of probability that such an objection may have been made by some over punctilious judge wishing to restrain Sam's exuberance. A Scotch judge once quoted in court a passage from _The Antiquary_ in which he said the true view of an intricate point was given; but then Scott was a lawyer.

It is requisite, says Mr. John Pitt Taylor (p. 500) speaking of "hearsay evidence" that whatever facts a witness speaks, he should be confined to those lying within his own knowledge. For every witness should give his testimony on oath, and should be subject to cross examination. But testimony from the relation of third persons cannot be subject to these tests. This rule of exclusion has been recognised as a fundamental principle of the law of evidence ever since the time of Charles II. To this he adds a note, with all due gravity: "The rule excluding heresay evidence, or rather the mode in which that rule is frequently misunderstood in Courts of Justice, is amusingly caricatured by Mr. Dickens _in his report_ of the case of Bardell _v._ Pickwick, p. 367."

Bardell _v._ Pickwick! He thus puts it with the many thousand or tens of thousand cases quoted, and he has even found a place for it in his index of places. He then goes on to quote the passage, just as he would quote from Barnwall and Adolphus.

How sagacious--full of legal point--is Boz's comment on Winkle's incoherent evidence. Phunky asked him whether he had any reason to suppose that Pickwick was about to be married. "'Oh no; certainly not,' replied Mr. Winkle with so much eagerness, that Mr. Phunky ought to have got him out of the box with all possible dispatch. Lawyers hold out that there are two kinds of particularly bad witnesses: a reluctant witness, and a too willing witness;" and most true it is. Both commit themselves in each case, but in different ways. The matter of the former, and the manner of the latter do the mischief. The ideal witness affects indifference, and is as impartial as the record of a phonograph. It is wonderful where Boz learned all this. No doubt from his friend Talfourd, K.C., who carefully revised "The Trial."

Skimpin's interpretation of Mr. Pickwick's consolatory phrase, which he evidently devised on the spur of the moment, shows him to be a very ready, smart fellow.

'Now, Mr. Winkle, I have only one more question to ask you, and I beg
you to bear in mind his Lordship's caution. Will you undertake to
swear that Pickwick, the Defendant, did not say on the occasion in
question--"My dear Mrs. Bardell, you're a good creature; compose
yourself to this situation, for to this situation you must come," or
words to that effect?'

'I--I didn't understand him so, certainly,' said Mr. Winkle,
astounded at this ingenious dove-tailing of the few words he had
heard. 'I was on the staircase, and couldn't hear distinctly; the
impression on my mind is--'

'The gentlemen of the jury want none of the impressions on your mind,
Mr. Winkle, which I fear would be of little service to honest,
straightforward men,' interposed Mr. Skimpin. 'You were on the
staircase, and didn't distinctly hear; but you will swear that
Pickwick _did not make use_ of the expressions I have quoted? Do I
understand that?'

'No, I will not,' replied Mr. Winkle; and down sat Mr. Skimpin, with
a triumphant countenance.

This "Will you swear he did _not_," etc., is a device familiar to cross examiners, and is used when the witness cannot be got to accept the words or admit that they were used. It of course means little or nothing: but its effect on the jury is that they come to fancy that the words _may_ have been used, and that the witness is not very clear as to his recollection.

How well described, too, and satirised, is yet another "common form" of the cross examiner, to wit the "How often, Sir?" question. Winkle, when asked as to his knowledge of Mrs. Bardell, replied that "he did not know her, but that he had seen her." (I recall making this very answer to Boz when we were both driving through Sackville Street, Dublin. He had asked "Did I know so-and-so?" when I promptly replied, "I don't know him, but I have seen him." This rather arrided him, as Elia would say.)

Skimpin went on:

'Oh, you don't know her, but you have seen her.'

'Now have the goodness to tell the gentlemen of the jury what you
mean by _that_, Mr. Winkle.'

'I mean that I am not intimate with her, but that I have seen her
when I went to call on Mr. Pickwick, in Goswell Street.'

'How often have you seen her, Sir?'

'How often?'

'_Yes_, _Mr. Winkle_, _how often_? I'll repeat the question for you
a dozen times, if you require it, Sir.' And the learned gentlemen,
with a firm and steady frown, placed his hands on his hips, and
smiled suspiciously to the jury.

_On this question there arose the edifying brow-beating_, _customary
on such points_. First of all, Mr. Winkle said it was quite
impossible for him to say how many times he had seen Mrs. Bardell.
Then he was asked if he had seen her twenty times, to which he
replied, 'Certainly,--more than that.' And then he was asked whether
he hadn't seen her a hundred times--whether he couldn't swear that he
had seen her more than fifty times--whether he didn't know that he
had seen her at least seventy-five times, and so forth; the
satisfactory conclusion which was arrived at, at last, being--that he
had better take care of himself, and mind what he was about. The
witness having been, by these means, reduced to the requisite ebb of
nervous perplexity, the examination was concluded.

How excellent is this. Who has not heard the process repeated over and over again from the young fledgeling Counsel to the old "hardbitten" and experienced K.C.?

A young legal tyro might find profit as well as entertainment in carefully studying others of Mr. Skimpin's adroit methods in cross examination. They are in a manner typical of those in favour with the more experienced members of the profession, allowing, of course, for a little humorous exaggeration. He will note also that Boz shows clearly how effective was the result of the processes. Here are a few useful recipes.

_How to make a witness appear as though he wished to withhold the truth_._ How to highly discredit a witness by an opening question_._ How to insinuate inaccuracy_._ How to suggest that the witness is evading_._ How to deal with a statement of a particular number of instances_._ How to take advantage of a witness' glances_._ How to suggest another imputed meaning to a witness' statement and confuse him into accepting it_.

Another happy and familiar form is Skimpin's interrogation of Winkle as to his "friends"--

'Are they here?'

'Yes they are,' said Mr. Winkle, _looking very earnestly towards the
spot where his friends were stationed_.

As every one attending courts knows, this is an almost intuitive movement in a witness; he thinks it corroborates him somehow.

But how good Skimpin and how ready--

"'Pray attend to me, Mr. Winkle, and _never mind your friends_,' with another expressive look at the jury; '_they must tell their stories without any previous consultation with you_, if none has yet taken place,' another expressive look. 'Now Sir, tell what you saw,' etc. '_Come_, _out with it_, _sir_, _we must_ have it sooner or later.'" The assumption here that the witness would keep back what he knew is adroit and very convincing.

A REVELATION.

But now we come to a very critical passage in Mr. Pickwick's case: one that really destroyed any chance that he had. It really settled the matter with the jury; and the worst was, the point was brought out through the inefficiency of his own counsel.

But let us hear the episode, and see how the foolish Phunky muddled it.

Mr. Phunky rose for the purpose of getting something important out of
Mr. Winkle in cross-examination. Whether he did get anything
important out of him, will immediately appear.

[Picture: Mr. Phunky]

'I believe, Mr. Winkle,' said Mr. Phunky, 'that Mr. Pickwick is not a
young man?'

'Oh no,' replied Mr. Winkle, 'old enough to be my father.'

'You have told my learned friend that you have known Mr. Pickwick a
long time. Had you ever any reason to suppose or believe that he was
about to be married?'