Chapter III: Part 3

'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; it was Mr. Winkle's fate to figure in both characters.

'I will even go further than this, Mr. Winkle,' continued Mr. Phunky,
in a most smooth and complacent manner. 'Did you ever see any thing
in Mr. Pickwick's manner and conduct towards the opposite sex to
induce you to believe that he ever contemplated matrimony of late
years, in any case?'

'Oh no; certainly not,' replied Mr. Winkle.

'Has his behaviour, when females have been in the case, always been
that of a man, who having attained a pretty advanced period of life,
content with his own occupations and amusements, treats them only as
a father might his daughters?'

'Not the least doubt of it,' replied Mr. Winkle, in the fulness of
his heart. 'That is--yes--oh yes--certainly.'

'You have never known anything in his behaviour towards Mrs. Bardell,
or any other female, in the least degree suspicious?' said Mr.
Phunky, preparing to sit down, for Serjeant Snubbin was winking at
him.

'N--n--no,' replied Mr. Winkle, 'except on one trifling occasion,
which, I have no doubt, might be easily explained.'

Now, if the unfortunate Mr. Phunky had sat down when Serjeant Snubbin
winked at him, or if Serjeant Buzfuz had stopped this irregular
cross-examination at the outset (which he knew better than to do, for
observing Mr. Winkle's anxiety, and well knowing it would in all
probability, lead to something serviceable to him), this unfortunate
admission would not have been elicited. The moment the words fell
from Mr. Winkle's lips, Mr. Phunky sat down, and Serjeant Snubbin
rather hastily told him he might leave the box, which Mr. Winkle
prepared to do with great readiness, when Serjeant Buzfuz stopped
him.

'Stay, Mr. Winkle--stay,' said Serjeant Buzfuz, 'will your lordship
have the goodness to ask him, what this one instance of suspicious
behaviour towards females on the part of this gentlemen, who is old
enough to be his father, was?'

'You hear what the learned counsel says, Sir,' observed the Judge,
turning to the miserable and agonized Mr. Winkle. 'Describe the
occasion to which you refer.'

'My lord,' said Mr. Winkle, trembling with anxiety, 'I--I'd rather
not.'

And Winkle had to relate the whole Ipswich adventure of the doublebedded room and the spinster lady.

It is surprising that Dodson and Fogg did not ferret out all about Mr. Pickwick's adventure at the Great White Horse. Peter Magnus lived in town and must have heard of the coming case; these things _do_ somehow leak out, and he would have gladly volunteered the story, were it only to spite the man. But further, Dodson and Fogg must have made all sorts of enquiries into Mr. Pickwick's doings. Mrs. Bardell herself might have heard something. The story was certainly in the Ipswich papers, for there was the riot in the street, the appearance before the mayor, the exposure of "Captain FitzMarshall"--a notable business altogether. What a revelation in open court! Conceive Miss Witherfield called to depose to Mr. Pickwick's midnight invasion. Mr. Pickwick himself might have been called and put on the rack, this incident not concerning his breach of promise. And supposing that the ubiquitous Jingle had heard of this business and had gone to the solicitor's office to volunteer evidence, and most useful evidence it would have been--to wit that Mr. Pickwick had been caught in the garden of a young ladies' school and had alarmed the house by his attempts to gain admission in the small hours! Jingle of course, could not be permitted to testify to this, but he could put the firm on the track. Mr. Pickwick's reputation could hardly have survived these two revelations, and sweeping damages to the full amount would have been the certain result.

This extraordinary adventure of Mr. Pickwick's at the Great White Horse Inn, Ipswich, verifies Dodson's casual remark to him, that "he was either a very designing or a most unfortunate man," circumstances being so strong against him. As the story was brought out, in open court, owing to the joint indiscretion of Phunky and Winkle, it will be best, in justice to Mr. Pickwick, to give practically his account of the affair.

'Nobody sleeps in the other bed, of course,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Oh no, sir.'

'Very good. Tell my servant to bring me up some hot water at
half-past eight in the morning, and that I shall not want him any
more to-night.'

'Yes, sir.'

And bidding Mr. Pickwick good-night, the chambermaid retired, and
left him alone.

Mr. Pickwick sat himself down in a chair before the fire, and fell
into a train of rambling meditations. First he thought of his
friends, and wondered when they would join him; _then his mind
reverted to Mrs. Martha Bardell_; and from that lady it wandered, by
a natural process, to the dingy counting-house of Dodson and Fogg.
From Dodson and Fogg's it flew off at tangent, to the very centre of
the history of the queer client; and then it came back to the Great
White Horse at Ipswich, with sufficient clearness to convince Mr.
Pickwick that he was falling asleep: so he aroused himself, and began
to undress, when he recollected he had left his watch on the table
down stairs. So as it was pretty late now, and he was unwilling to
ring his bell at that hour of the night, he slipped on his coat, of
which he had just divested himself, and taking the japanned
candlestick in his hand, walked quietly down stairs.

The more stairs Mr. Pickwick went down, the more stairs there seemed
to be to descend, and again and again, when Mr. Pickwick got into
some narrow passage, and began to congratulate himself on having
gained the ground-floor, did another flight of stairs appear before
his astonished eyes. At last he reached a stone hall, which he
remembered to have seen when he entered the house. Passage after
passage did he explore; room after room did he peep into; at length,
just as he was on the point of giving up the search in despair, he
opened the door of the identical room in which he had spent the
evening, and beheld his missing property on the table.

Mr. Pickwick seized the watch in triumph, and proceeded to retrace
his steps to his bed-chamber. If his progress downwards had been
attended with difficulties and uncertainty, his journey back, was
infinitely more perplexing. Rows of doors, garnished with boots of
every shape, make, and size, branched off in every possible
direction. A dozen times did he softly turn the handle of some
bedroom door, which resembled his own, when a gruff cry from within
of "Who the devil's that?" or "What do want here?" caused him to
steal away on tiptoe, with a perfectly marvellous celerity. He was
reduced to the verge of despair, when an open door attracted his
attention. He peeped in--right at last. There were the two beds,
whose situation he perfectly remembered, and the fire still burning.
His candle, not a long one when he first received it, had flickered
away in the drafts of air through which he had passed, and sunk into
the socket, just as he had closed the door after him. 'No matter,'
said Mr. Pickwick, 'I can undress myself just as well by the light of
the fire.'

The bedsteads stood, one each side of the door; and on the inner side
of each, was a little path, terminating in a rush-bottomed chair,
just wide enough to admit of a person's getting into, or out of bed,
on that side if he or she thought proper. Having carefully drawn the
curtains of his bed on the outside, Mr. Pickwick sat down on the
rush-bottomed chair, and leisurely divested himself of his shoes and
gaiters. He then took off and folded up, his coat, waistcoat, and
neck-cloth, and slowly drawing on his tasseled night-cap, secured it
firmly on his head, by tying beneath his chin, the strings which he
always had attached to that article of dress. It was at this moment
that the absurdity of his recent bewilderment struck upon his mind;
and throwing himself back in the rush-bottomed chair, Mr. Pickwick
laughed to himself so heartily, that it would have been quite
delightful to any man of well-constituted mind to have watched the
smiles which expanded his amiable features, as they shone forth, from
beneath the night-cap.

'It is the best idea,' said Mr. Pickwick to himself, smiling till he
almost cracked the night-cap strings--'It is the best idea, my losing
myself in this place, and wandering about those staircases, that I
ever heard of. Droll, droll, very droll.' Here Mr. Pickwick smiled
again, a broader smile than before, and was about to continue the
process of undressing, in the best possible humour, when he was
suddenly stopped by a most unexpected interruption; to wit, the
entrance into the room of some person with a candle, who, after
locking the door, advanced to the dressing table, and set down the
light upon it.

The smile that played upon Mr. Pickwick's features, was
instantaneously lost in a look of the most unbounded and
wonder-stricken surprise. The person, whoever it was, had come so
suddenly and with so little noise, that Mr. Pickwick had had no time
to call out, or oppose their entrance. Who could it be? A robber?
Some evil-minded person who had seen him come upstairs with a
handsome watch in his hand, perhaps. What was he to do!

The only way in which Mr. Pickwick could catch a glimpse of his
mysterious visitor with the least danger of being seen himself, was
by creeping on to the bed, and peeping out from between the curtains
on the opposite side. Keeping the curtains carefully closed with his
hand, so that nothing more of him could be seen than his face and
nightcap, and putting on his spectacles, he mustered up courage, and
looked out.

Mr. Pickwick almost fainted with horror and dismay. Standing before
the dressing glass, was a middle-aged lady in yellow curl-papers,
busily engaged in brushing what ladies call their "back hair."
However the unconscious middle-aged lady came into that room, it was
quite clear that she contemplated remaining there for the night; for
she had brought a rushlight and shade with her, which with
praiseworthy precaution against fire, she had stationed in a basin on
the floor, where it was glimmering away, like a gigantic lighthouse,
in a particularly small piece of water.

'Bless my soul,' thought Mr. Pickwick, 'what a dreadful thing!'

'Hem!' said the lady; and in went Mr. Pickwick's head with
automaton-like rapidity.

'I never met with anything so awful as this,'--thought poor Mr.
Pickwick, the cold perspiration starting in drops upon his nightcap.
'Never. This is fearful.'

It was quite impossible to resist the urgent desire to see what was
going forward. So out went Mr. Pickwick's head again. The prospect
was worse than before. The middle-aged lady had finished arranging
her hair; had carefully enveloped it, in a muslin nightcap with a
small plaited border, and was gazing pensively on the fire.

'This matter is growing alarming'--reasoned Mr. Pickwick with
himself. 'I can't allow things to go on in this way. By the
self-possession of that lady, it's clear to me that I must have come
into the wrong room. If I call out, she'll alarm the house, but if I
remain here, the consequences will be still more frightful.'

[Picture: The Double Bedded Room, Great White Horse, Ipswich]

Mr. Pickwick, it is quite unnecessary to say, was one of the most
modest and delicate-minded of mortals. The very idea of exhibiting
his nightcap to a lady, overpowered him, but he had tied those
confounded strings in a knot, and do what he would, he couldn't get
it off. The disclosure must be made. There was only one other way
of doing it. He shrunk behind the curtains, and called out very
loudly--

'Ha--hum.'

That the lady started at this unexpected sound was evident, by her
falling up against the rushlight shade; that she persuaded herself it
must have been the effect of imagination was equally clear, for when
Mr. Pickwick, under the impression that she had fainted away,
stone-dead from fright, ventured to peep out again, she was gazing
pensively on the fire as before.

'Most extraordinary female this,' thought Mr. Pickwick, popping in
again. 'Ha--hum.'

These last sounds, so like those in which, as legends inform us, the
ferocious giant Blunderbore was in the habit of expressing his
opinion that it was time to lay the cloth, were too distinctly
audible, to be again mistaken for the workings of fancy.

'Gracious Heaven!' said the middle-aged lady, 'what's that!'

'It's--it's--only a gentleman, Ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick from behind
the curtains.

'A gentleman!' said the lady with a terrific scream.

'It's all over,' thought Mr. Pickwick.

'A strange man,' shrieked the lady. Another instant and the house
would be alarmed. Her garments rustled as she rushed towards the
door.

'Ma'am,'--said Mr. Pickwick, thrusting out his head, in the extremity
of desperation, 'Ma'am.'

Now although Mr. Pickwick was not actuated by any definite object in
putting out his head, it was instantaneously productive of a good
effect. The lady, as we have alreaded stated, was near the door.
She must pass it, to reach the staircase, and she would most
undoubtedly have done so by this time, had not the sudden apparition
of Mr. Pickwick's nightcap driven her back, into the remotest corner
of the apartment, where she stood, staring wildly at Mr. Pickwick,
while Mr. Pickwick, in his turn, stared wildly at her.

'Wretch,'--said the lady, covering her eyes with her hands, 'what do
you want here.'

'Nothing, Ma'am--nothing whatever, Ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick,
earnestly.

'Nothing!' said the lady, looking up.

'Nothing, Ma'am, upon my honour,' said Mr. Pickwick, nodding his head
so energetically, that the tassel of his nightcap danced again. 'I
am almost ready to sink, Ma'am, beneath the confusion of addressing a
lady in my nightcap (here the lady hastily snatched off her's), but I
can't get it off, Ma'am (here Mr. Pickwick gave it a tremendous tug
in proof of the statment). It is evident to me, Ma'am, now, that I
have mistaken this bedroom for my own. I had not been here five
minutes, Ma'am, when you suddenly entered it.'

'If this improbable story be really true, Sir,'--said the lady,
sobbing violently, 'you will leave it instantly.'

'I will, Ma'am, with the greatest pleasure,' replied Mr. Pickwick.

'Instantly, Sir,' said the lady.

'Certainly, Ma'am,' interposed Mr. Pickwick very quickly.
'Certainly, Ma'am. I--I--am very sorry, Ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick,
making his appearance at the bottom of the bed, 'to have been the
innocent occasion of this alarm and emotion; deeply sorry Ma'am.'

The lady pointed to the door. One excellent quality of Mr.
Pickwick's character was beautifully displayed at this moment, under
the most trying circumstances. Although he had hastily put on his
hat over his night cap, after the manner of the old patrol; although
he carried his shoes and gaiters in his hand, and his coat and
waistcoat over his arm, nothing could subdue his native politeness.

'I am exceedingly sorry, Ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick, bowing very low.

'If you are, Sir, you will at once leave the room,' said the lady.

'Immediately, Ma'am; this instant, Ma'am,' said Mr. Pickwick, opening
the door, and dropping both his shoes with a loud crash in so doing.

'I trust Ma'am,' resumed Mr. Pickwick, gathering up his shoes, and
turning round to bow again, 'I trust, Ma'am, that my unblemished
character, and the devoted respect I entertain for your sex, will
plead as some slight excuse for this'--But before Mr. Pickwick could
conclude the sentence, the lady had thrust him into the passage, and
locked and bolted the door behind him.

Whatever grounds of self-congratulation Mr. Pickwick might have, for
having escaped so quietly from his late awkward situation, his
present position was by no means enviable. He was alone, in an open
passage, in a strange house, in the middle of the night, half
dressed; it was not to be supposed that he could find his way in
perfect darkness to a room which he had been wholly unable to
discover with a light, and if he made the slightest noise in his
fruitless attempts to do so, he stood every chance of being shot at,
and perhaps killed, by some wakeful traveller. He had no resource
but to remain where he was, until daylight appeared. So after
groping his way a few paces down the passage, and to his infinite
alarm, stumbling over several pairs of boots in so doing, Mr.
Pickwick crouched into a little recess in the wall, to wait for
morning, as philosophically as he might.

He was not destined, however, to undergo this additional trial of
patience: for he had not been long ensconced in his present
concealment when, to his unspeakable horror, a man, bearing a light,
appeared at the end of the passage. His horror was suddenly
converted into joy, however, when he recognized the form of his
faithful attendant. It was indeed Mr. Samuel Weller, who after
sitting up thus late, in conversation with the Boots, who was sitting
up for the mail, was now about to retire to rest.

Imagine this story told by Miss Witherfield in open court, with all its details, the lady's narrative being coloured by the recollection that she had lost a suitable husband owing to her adventure. Mr. Peter Magnus would have deposed to Mr. Pickwick's extraordinary interest in the matter of the proposal, and have added his suspicions on recalling Mr. Pickwick's ambiguous declaration that he had come down to expose a certain person--even one of his own sympathetic friends, who had witnessed the scene with Mrs. Bardell, and recalled the Boarding House incident, might murmur, "How odd that he is ever thus in pursuit of the fair under suspicious circumstances? _could_ it be that after all?--What if he had some previous knowledge of the lady, and secretly admired her, and stung to fury at the notion of Mr. Peter Magnus marrying, had taken this strange mode of declaring his passion?" Even the sagacious Sam, devoted as he was to his master, was taken aback on meeting him in his midnight wanderings.

'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, suddenly appearing before him, 'Where's my
bedroom?'

Mr. Weller stared at his master with the most emphatic surprise; and
it was not until the question had been repeated three several times,
that he turned round, and led the way to the long-sought apartment.

'Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, as he got into bed, 'I have made one of the
most extraordinary mistakes to-night, that ever were heard of.'

'Werry likely, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller, drily.

'But of this I am determined, Sam,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'that if I
were to stop in this house for six months, I would never trust myself
about it alone, again.'

'That's the wery prudentest resolution as you could come to, Sir,'
replied Mr. Weller. 'You rayther want somebody to look arter you,
Sir, ven your judgment goes out a wisitin'.'

'What do you mean by that, Sam?' said Mr. Pickwick. He raised
himself in bed, and extended his hand, as if he were about to say
something more; but suddenly checking himself, turned round, and bade
his valet 'Good night.'

'Good night, Sir,' replied Mr. Weller. He paused when he got outside
the door--shook his head--walked on--stopped--snuffed the
candle--shook his head again--and finally proceeded slowly to his
chamber, apparently buried in the profoundest meditation.

It will be seen that Sam went near to being disrespectful in his sceptical view of his master's story.

When Mrs. Sanders was examined, "the Court" put a few questions to her, as to the customs of love-making among persons of her position. She had "received love letters, like other ladies. In the course of their correspondence Mr. Sanders had often called her a 'duck' but never 'chops' or 'tomato sauce.' He was particularly fond of ducks. Perhaps if he had been as fond of chops and tomato sauce, he might have called her that, as a term of affection."

Mrs. Sanders was clearly one of the same class as Mrs. Cluppins, and chiefly deposed to the general impression in the neighbourhood that Mr. Pickwick had "offered" for Mrs. Bardell. Tupman, Snodgrass and Sam were also examined. Being friends of the defendant, they were from the outset assumed to be "hostile" and treated accordingly. It may be doubted, however, whether it is permissible to treat "your own witnesses" in this rough fashion, until at least they have shown some overt signs of their hostility, either by reserve, or an obvious determination to let as little as possible be extracted from them. In such case, it is usual to apply to the court for its sanction to deal with them by the severity of cross examination.

When Sam entered the witness box, the Serjeant addressed him: "I believe you are in the service of Mr. Pickwick, the Defendant in this case. _Speak up_, _if you please_, _Mr. Weller_." Sam had not had time to say anything, so the admonition might seem superfluous. But this is a well-known device. Sam had been "briefed" to the Serjeant as a rather dangerous witness--somewhat too wide awake. It was necessary therefore to be short and summary with him. He thus conveyed to the jury that this Sam was one whom he could address in this curt way, and who by his low, uncertain accents might try to hide the truth. Sam, however, disconcerted the plan by his prompt, ready answer, "I _mean_ to speak up, sir." Sam, as we know, clearly brought out the Dodson and Fogg's damaging assurance to Mrs. Bardell, that no costs should be charged to her personally.

When the Plaintiff's case was closed, things did not look particularly bright for Mr. Pickwick. It had been shown on the evidence of his own friends that he had been surprised with his landlady in his arms; (2) That he had been corresponding with her on most familiar terms--at least Serjeant Buzfuz had made it appear so; (3) Language that _almost_ amounted to a proposal had been overheard; (4) And finally, it had been revealed that the Defendant had been "caught" in a lady's bedroom, at an Inn, at midnight! To answer which a "strong" case was absolutely essential. This, we grieve to say, was not forthcoming.

THE DEFENDANT'S CASE.

When we listen to the defence set up for Mr. Pickwick we have to lament that that worthy gentleman was not better served by his legal advisers.

On the other side the shrewd Dodson and Fogg had done admirably for their client. They were sharp clever attornies, having a thundering, overpowering leader, and a smart, exceedingly smart junior, one of those "wide-awake" brisk fellows who really conduct the case, and will "take silk" in a few years. This gentleman could cross-examine in capital style and address the jury in a language of his own, by glances, shrugs, and remarks addressed to a witness, but intended for the jury, as they knew perfectly well. His style, bearing, and speeches form an admirable epitome of the arts and devices of a smart counsel. There are "common" forms and Skimpin had them at his fingers' ends. As we listen, we feel how admirably directed they were to work on the jury.

Perker's plan of campaign as announced to Mr. Pickwick, was a poor one enough, and showed how desperate he thought the case was. "We have only one (course) to adopt, my dear sir," he said, "cross-examine the witnesses: trust to Snubbin's eloquence, throw dust in the eyes of the judge, and ourselves on the jury." Brave words, but nothing of the programme was carried out. The cross-examination of the witnesses was but tamely attempted. Snubbin's eloquence was not displayed beyond mildly praising his client's good character. As for "throwing dust in the eyes of judge," we have seen Mr. Justice Stareleigh was much too wide awake for that; while the throwing themselves on the jury was disastrous. There were several other lines of defence which a more up-to-date solicitor would not have overlooked. A less scrupulous man would have made searching enquiries into Mrs. Bardell's history and character; but his client, perhaps, would not have sanctioned this course.

Perker is even absurd enough to talk of a _casa_, as though it were some Italian word.

A _ca sa_ was short for a writ of _Capias ad Satisfaciendum_, which gave a warrant to the officers to seize the goods. There were various kinds of this machinery, but what affected Mr. Pickwick was a _Capias ad Satisfaciendum_, to enforce attendance at the Court. The _ca sa_ also came after judgment, giving authority to imprison the defendant till the claim was satisfied.

The appearance of such great guns as the two Serjeants is accounted for by a curious rule that Serjeants only were permitted to lead in cases read in the Court of Common Pleas. {84} This strange monopoly recalls that other one, in the Court of Arches, where the advocates and judges used to exchange places and decide on cases in which perhaps they had been advocates. These illiberal and unaccountable restrictions have been swept away, with the Courts themselves.

Very unusual indeed at this time was the appearance of a lawyer of Serjeant Snubbin's class in court, and there is a well-known story how, when Charles Butler made his appearance on a special occasion, all the Bar crowded in to hear him, and he had, I think, to get a gown for the occasion.

One is sorry to think that there are no Serjeants now, though at the Irish Bar there is one solitary survivor--Serjeant Hemphill. Gone too, are their "coifs" and other paraphernalia. With the abolition of the separate courts they were found superfluous. We like to hear of Serjeant Parry, Serjeant Ballantine, Serjeants Warren and Talford, all four literary men. {85}

Having made this initial blunder, Perker did not even instruct a good, smart and ready junior, but chose instead the incapable Phunky who really brought out that fatal piece of evidence from Winkle, which "did for" his case altogether. He had no business, as Boz tells us.

This junior, we are told, had been just called, that is to say, he had been only eight years at the Bar. Snubbin had never heard of him. The little judge, in court, also said "that he never had the pleasure of hearing the gentleman's name before," a sneer he would not have ventured on to a counsel in good practice. Snubbin's remark is amusing and sarcastic; but now-a-days any barrister who had been at the Bar eight years would not be considered as just called, for if he has been passed over for that time, he is likely never to make a figure. The rude and unbecoming sneers, both of Snubbin and the little Judge, seem amazing in our present code of legal manners. Everything at that time, however, was much more "in the rough" and coarser. This was his first case; and the poor creature is thus described:

Although an infant barrister, he was a full-grown man. He had a very
nervous manner, and a painful hesitation in his speech; it did not
appear to be a natural defect, but seemed rather the result of
timidity, arising from the consciousness of being "kept down" by want
of means, or interest, or connection, or impudence, as the case might
be. He was overawed by the Serjeant, and profoundly courteous to the
attorney.

'I have not had the pleasure of seeing you before, Mr. Phunky,' said
Serjeant Snubbin, with haughty condescension.

Mr. Phunky bowed. He _had_ had the pleasure of seeing the Serjeant,
and of envying him too, with all a poor man's envy, for eight years
and a quarter.

'You are with me in this case, I understand?' said the Serjeant.

If Mr. Phunky had been a rich man, he would have instantly sent for
his clerk to remind him; if he had been a wise one, he would have
applied his fore-finger to his forehead, and endeavoured to
recollect, whether, in the multiplicity of his engagements he had
undertaken this one, or not; but as he was neither rich nor wise (in
this sense at all events) he turned red, and bowed.

'Have you read the papers, Mr. Phunky?' inquired the Serjeant.

Here again, Mr. Phunky should have professed to have forgotten all
about the merits of the case; but as he had read such papers as had
been laid before him in the course of the action, and had thought of
nothing else, waking or sleeping, throughout the two months during
which he had been retained as Mr. Serjeant Snubbin's junior, he
turned a deeper red, and bowed again.

'This is Mr. Pickwick,' said the Serjeant, waving his pen in the
direction in which that gentleman was standing.

Mr. Phunky bowed to Mr. Pickwick with a reverence which a first
client must ever awaken; and again inclined his head towards his
leader.

'Perhaps you will take Mr. Pickwick away,' said the Serjeant,
'and--and--and--hear anything Mr. Pickwick may wish to communicate.
We shall have a consultation, of course.' With this hint that he had
been interrupted quite long enough, Mr. Serjeant Snubbin, who had
been gradually growing more and more abstracted, applied his glass to
his eyes for an instant, bowed slightly round, and was once more
deeply immersed in the case before him: which arose out of an
interminable law suit, originating in the act of an individual,
deceased a century or so ago, who had stopped up a pathway leading
from some place which nobody ever came from, to some other place
which nobody ever went to.

With such a pair the case was literally given away. Perker should have secured a man like the present Mr. Gill or Mr. Charles Matthews--they might have "broken down" the witnesses, or laughed the case out of court.

We may speculate--why did Perker make this foolish selection? As to Snubbin there was some excuse, as it was the custom that Serjeants only should lead in the Court of Common Pleas. But for the choice of Phunky, Perker's stupidity alone was responsible.

Under these conditions Serjeant Snubbin's conduct of the case and his "handling" of the witnesses was truly inefficient. He lost every opportunity for helping his client. He "led" in a quiet, gentlemanly and almost indifferent way. His first opportunity came in examining Mrs. Cluppins. As we have seen, she had deposed to hearing, when the door was "on the jar," Mr. Pickwick make those speeches which Mrs. Bardell had taken to be a proposal. Now here was the moment to show the ambiguity and that Mr. Pickwick was speaking of his servant. It might have been brought out that Sam was actually engaged that day, and that she had met him on the stairs, etc. But Snubbin declined to ask her a single question, saying that Mr. Pickwick admitted the accuracy of her statement. But this was beside the matter, and the Serjeant need not have impeached her accuracy.

When Phunky came to Winkle, the inexperience of the tyro was shown at once. Again, here was the moment to have extracted from the witness a full explanation of Mr. Pickwick's ambiguous speeches to Mrs. Bardell. He could have "brought out" as "clear as the light of day" that Mr. Pickwick was speaking of his engagement of a valet and have shown that the valet was to be engaged that very morning. It would have been impossible to resist such an explanation. But the thing was not thought of. From him also could have been drawn a vast deal favourable to Mr. Pickwick such as his disgust and annoyance at Mrs. Bardell's behaviour, his wish to be rid of her, his complaints of her conduct. But no, there was only the foolish question as to Mr. Pickwick's being an elderly man and of fatherly ways, a topic that would by no means negative the presumption of matrimony. But nothing could excuse the rashness of putting a general question as to "Mr. Pickwick's behaviour towards females." No adroit counsel would run the risk of encountering a too conscientious witness, such as Winkle proved to be and who would "let the cat out of the bag."

As we have seen, this awkward question settled Mr. Pickwick's business. Snubbin had held him out as an elderly but benevolent being, treating every female he met as a daughter, never dreaming of matrimony: when lo! the whole fabric is overthrown in an instant by the luckless Winkle's admission!

Amid the profound silence of the whole court Mr. Winkle faltered out
that the trifling circumstance of suspicion was Mr. Pickwick's being
found in a lady's sleeping apartment at midnight, which had
terminated, _he believed_, in breaking off the projected marriage of
the lady, and had led, _he knew_, to the whole party being forcibly
carried before a magistrate.

Thus was the defendant suddenly revealed as a Pecksniffian Lothario, and his pretence of philanthrophy after was shewn in its true colours. It was impossible not to associate this with the scene with Mrs. Bardell.

But there was an important legal "point" which one might have expected would have occurred to so eminent a Chamber Counsel as Serjeant Snubbin. To prove a breach of the promise, it must always be shown that the defendant had been given an opportunity of officially refusing to fulfil it. It should have been put to him "in black and white," "Will you marry me?" and he must have answered "No, I will not," or something to that effect. In default of this the defendant might plead "True I gave the promise and it stands unbroken, for you never required me to act upon it." Now in Mr. Pickwick's case this actually occurred. As we have seen he left town the morning after the imputed proposal and while he was away, within a month, the notice of action was sent to him. Up to that time he had not heard a word of Dodson and Fogg, or of legal proceedings. But it may be urged that Mrs. Bardell herself may have written, formulating her demands. That this was not the case is evident from Mr. Pickwick's behaviour; he did not dream of such a thing, or he would have been disturbed by it, or have consulted his friends about it. Had it been so, his high opinion of Mrs. Bardell would have been shattered. For did he not say on seeing Dodson and Fogg's letter, "She couldn't do it, she hasn't the heart to do it." The only thing that makes against this theory is his reply to Peter Magnus who asked him "had he ever proposed?" when he answered vehemently "Never," possibly recalling Mrs. Bardell. She may however have written to him a pleading letter reminding him of what he had said to her, declaring her deep-seated affection for him and inviting him to carry out what he had offered. Mr. Pickwick would have replied in one of his amiable letters, couched in rather general terms, perhaps calling her "my dear creature," but putting aside the whole business: and there the matter probably dropped for a time. I have little doubt the good woman up to the last really believed that her elderly lodger intended to make her an offer of his hand, and that on his return from his travels he would resume the business. Much elated by this prospect, and most naturally too, she had told all her friends and neighbours of her approaching advancement. This Mrs. Sanders specially deposed to: "had always said and believed that Pickwick would marry Mrs. Bardell; knew that Mrs. Bardell being engaged to Pickwick was the current topic of conversation in the neighbourhood, after the fainting in July; had been told it herself by Mrs. Mudberry which kept a mangle, and Mrs. Bunkin which clear-starched, but did not see either Mrs. Mudberry or Mrs. Bunkin in court."

Notwithstanding these speculations, it still does not appear that Pickwick made such a legal and official refusal to execute his promise as would be sufficient to support the statement of what is now called "the summons and plaint," to wit, that the plaintiff being able and willing "to marry the defendant the defendant refused, etc."

There is another matter on which hands of skilful counsel might have affected Mrs. Bardell and which my friend Mr. Burnand ("F. C. B.") was the first to push home. At the trial, Mrs. Saunders cross-examined by Serjeant Snubbin, had to admit that her friend had an admirer--a certain Baker in the neighbourhood--who was supposed to have matrimonial designs. Pressed on this matter she thus deposed: "Had heard Pickwick ask the little boy how he should like to have another father. Did not know that Mrs. Bardell was at that time keeping company with the baker, but did know that the baker was then a single man, and is now married. Couldn't swear that Mrs. Bardell was not very fond of the baker, but should think that the baker was not very fond of Mrs. Bardell, or he wouldn't have married somebody else. Thought Mrs. Bardell fainted away on the morning in July, because Pickwick asked her to name the day; knew that she (witness) fainted away stone dead when Mr. Saunders asked _her_ to name the day, and believed that everybody as called herself a lady would do the same, under similar circumstances. Heard Pickwick ask the boy the question about the marbles, but upon her oath did not know the difference between an alley tor and a commoney.

By the COURT.--During the period of her keeping company with Mr. Sanders, had received love letters, like other ladies. In course of their correspondence Mr. Sanders had often called her a 'duck,' but never 'chops,' nor yet 'tomata sauce.' He was particularly fond of ducks. Perhaps if he had been as fond of chops and tomata sauce, he might have called her that, as a term of affection.

What a point, too, Serjeant Snubbin missed here! Could he not have quoted the old verses. How he would have convulsed the court as he poured out the apropos "for Tommy and Me!"

Pat-a-cake, Pat-a-cake, baker's man,
Bake me a cake as quick as you can;
Knead it and bake it as fast as can be,
And put in the oven for Tommy and me.

Now we do not find that the Serjeant made any use of this topic in his speech. He might have surely urged that this "wily and experienced widow" was eager for a husband, that having been "thrown over" by her baker and stung by the mortification, she resolved, as it were, to rehabilitate herself and prepare this "plant" for her unsuspecting lodger. As Sir Henry Irving says in the play, "I don't like widows; _they know too much_." F. C. B., as I have said, has treated this baker theme and developed it regularly in his amusing operetta "Pickwick."

The little epitome given of Snubbin's speech shows how weak were his topics, and that he, in fact, considered that there was no defence.

Serjeant Snubbin then addressed the jury on behalf of the defendant;
and a very long and a very emphatic address he delivered, in which he
bestowed the highest possible eulogiums on the conduct and character
of Mr. Pickwick. He attempted to show that the letters which had
been exhibited, merely related to Mr. Pickwick's dinner, or to the
preparations for receiving him in his apartments on his return from
some country excursion. It is sufficient to add in general terms,
that he did the best he could for Mr. Pickwick; and the best, as
everybody knows on the infallible authority of the old adage, could
do no more.

This was no more than speaking "in mitigation of damages."

Mr. Phunky made no speech, which was just as well, as he might have but damaged the case, as no witnesses had been called on his side. For the same reason, the Court had not the pleasure of hearing Skimpin, who would no doubt have "torn the Defendant's case to tatters."

CHARGE AND VERDICT.

The regular formula is this. The judge begins to read his notes, and makes "running comments" as he goes along. "We have first, gentlemen, the statement of Mrs. Cluppins, she tells you, &c. Of course she comes as the friend of the Plaintiff, and naturally takes a favourable view of her case. If you are satisfied with her statement, it is for you, gentlemen, to consider what value you will attach to it. Then we come to the question of damages. This is entirely a matter for you. You must take into account the position in life of the Defendant, and what the Plaintiff has lost by his default. On the other hand they must be reasonable in amount. If you believe the promise has been clearly established, you should give substantial though not excessive damages, on a scale sufficient to repay the Plaintiff for the wrong. On the other hand--should it seem to you doubtful whether the promise had been made--you will give the Defendant the benefit of the doubt. These are questions entirely for you--not for me. On the whole case, you will ask yourselves, whether a promise such as would satisfy reasonable men, has been supported by sufficient evidence. If so, Plaintiff is entitled to damages--on the other hand, if this is not proved to your satisfaction, you will find for the Defendant."

Mr. Justice Stareleigh, however, as we are told, then "summed up in his old established and most approved form. He read as much of his notes as he could decypher on so short a notice, and made running comments on the evidence as he went along. If Mrs. Bardell were right, it was perfectly clear that Mr. Pickwick was wrong, and if they thought the evidence of Mrs. Cluppins worthy of credence, they would believe it, and if they didn't, why they would'nt. If they were satisfied that a breach of promise had been committed, they would find for the Plaintiff, with such damages as they thought proper; and if, on the other hand, it appeared to them that no promise of marriage had ever been given, they would find for the Defendant, with no damages at all." Such was this lucid direction--which is really, not in the least, an exaggeration.

But I could fancy some acute judge of our time--such as Mr. Justice Day or Mr. Justice Bigham--after trying this case, turning round in his seat to "charge" the jury. "Here, gentlemen," he would tell them, "we have it claimed on one side that a promise of marriage was made--and broken; on the other hand the Defendant denies having ever given such a promise. The question you will have to deal with is: What was this promise, and when was it given? In other words, _when_ did the Defendant propose to the lady. On the part of the Plaintiff, this was said to have been done at the interview in Goswell Street, and two friends of the Plaintiff--Mrs. Cluppins, I think"--turning over his notes--"yes, Cluppins, and Sanders both declare positively that they overheard the language of the proposal. Further, Mr. Pickwick's friends are called, to prove that the lady was in his arms, fainting. It is extraordinary that not one of these three gentlemen should have deposed to any statements or have offered explanations of the situation. One witness indeed says that he heard the Defendant remonstrate with the Plaintiff, on her hysterical behaviour, and ask her to consider that if any one should come in, what would be said. Now, this is not the language of an ardent suitor, who would rather wish than otherwise, that such endearing familiarities should continue: though I don't think you need seriously accept the reading the learned Counsel, Mr. Skimpin, put on the phrase used; on the other hand, the words 'my dear creature,' were distinctly heard.

"There is one little incident," the Judge might go on, "which I must not pass by, and which is not without its significance. A witness deposed that the defendant was noted for his kindness to the Plaintiff's little boy--that he was constantly giving him presents, and once was heard to say to him, patting him on the head, '_how would you like to have another father_?' Now, this addressed to a child of tender years does seem an odd sort of speech. Of course, it will be contended that the reference was to the probability of his Mother marrying some one other than the Defendant: if that be the case, it seems to me rather an indelicate and reckless speech. And then it must be said, it seems inconsistent with the amiable and benevolent character given to the Defendant to-day. On the other hand, if he were referring to _himself_ it will appear natural and proper enough. And there is this to be added, that when the child had reported the remark to his mother, which of course he did, she would most reasonably begin to found hopes upon it. And then what follows, Gentlemen?--the Defendant is found holding this lady in his arms, and becomes so demonstrative in his attentions that this very child comes to her rescue. I am inexperienced in these things--they may be innocent and done with the purest intentions, or may not; but you, Gentlemen of the Jury, are men of the world: and it is for you to put the proper construction on them."

"You will have noted, Gentlemen, this curious feature of the case. None of the witnesses were in the room when the imputed proposal was made, yet all, Cluppins, Weller, and the Defendant's three friends, _heard_ what the Defendant said. This suggests that he must have been very pressing, if not agitated. One of the witnesses, Winkle, I think, yes, Winkle, actually deposes to hearing the words, 'My dear creature! Compose yourself' and the like. He added he was afraid someone might come in; a very reasonable fear, Gentlemen, and well grounded: for several persons _did_ come in and it would seem with awkward results for the Defendant. But, Gentlemen, I confess that what most of all weighs with me in this case is the remarkable avowal wrung from a reluctant witness, of the Defendant's being surprised at midnight in a lady's bed-chamber, and being taken, after a serious riot, before the Magistrates. This came on me, as I saw it did on you all, as a surprise. True, it does not bear on the question of a promise or of the breach. But still it seems a matter which you cannot wholly shut out from your consideration. It startled me as it did you, to find a sort of travelling philanthropist, as the Defendant Pickwick holds himself out to be, on whose mildly benevolent features nature seems to have stamped rectitude and high principle, living a life of hypocrisy, taking part in midnight invasions and daylight riots. It is one of his own friends who tells us this sad story: and it is for you to consider whether the Plaintiff was here also in pursuit of yet another disreputable game, holding out marriage as the bait: I seem to speak strongly, but I feel it would be impossible to withdraw this from your consideration.

"You may reasonably ask yourselves of what Pickwick was afraid--or why did he dread the presence of witnesses? Was he simply beguiling the lady, as he attempted to beguile that lady at Ipswich, without 'meaning business,' as the phrase runs. I must say the Plaintiff had rather reasonable grounds for assuming that the Defendant _did_ mean business. But all this is for you, Gentlemen, not for me.

"Then we have the man Weller's statement--a sort of humorous stage servant, not unamusing--and of course entirely devoted to his master's interest. I don't think you need attach any importance to what he said of the solicitors for the Plaintiff. When I was at the Bar, Gentlemen, attornies did much worse things than this."

The jury consulted for only a few minutes. Perhaps, however, they were only discussing the amount of damages. They were certainly moderate--laid at 1500 pounds--though had Dodson and Fogg's advice prevailed, it should have been double. This only, by the way, is further proof of the amiable Mrs. Bardell's moderation and secret _tendre_ for her genial lodger. Considering that Mr. Pickwick was 'a gentleman,' and further a gentleman of means, and that Mrs. Bardell was but an humble lodging-house keeper, the sum seems hardly commensurate. Dodson and Fogg no doubt expected 1,000 pounds.

An anxious quarter of an hour elapsed; the jury came back; the judge
was fetched in. Mr. Pickwick put on his spectacles, and gazed at the
foreman with an agitated countenance and a quickly beating heart.

'Gentlemen,' said the individual in black, 'are you all agreed upon
your verdict?'

'We are,' replied the foreman.

'Do you find for the plaintiff, gentlemen, or for the defendant?'

'For the plaintiff.'

'With what damages, gentlemen?'

'Seven hundred and fifty pounds.'

Mr. Pickwick took off his spectacles, carefully wiped the glasses,
folded them into their case, and put them in his pocket; then having
drawn on his gloves with great nicety, and stared at the foreman all
the while, he mechanically followed Mr. Perker and the blue bag out
of court.

They stopped in a side room while Perker paid the court fees; and
here, Mr. Pickwick was joined by his friends. Here, too, he
encountered Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, rubbing their hands with every
token of outward satisfaction.

'Well, gentlemen,' said Mr. Pickwick.

'Well, sir,' said Dodson: for self and partner.

'You imagine you'll get your costs, don't you, gentlemen?' said Mr.
Pickwick.

Fogg said they thought it rather probable. Dodson smiled, and said
they'd try.

'You may try, and try, and try again, Messrs. Dodson and Fogg,' said
Mr. Pickwick vehemently, 'but not one farthing of costs or damages do
you ever get from me, if I spend the rest of my existence in a
debtor's prison.'

'Ha, ha!' laughed Dodson. 'You will think better of that, before
next term, Mr. Pickwick.'

'He, he, he! We'll soon see about that Mr. Pickwick,' grinned Mr.
Fogg.

Speechless with indignation, Mr. Pickwick allowed himself to be led
by his solicitor and friends to the door, and there assisted into a
hackney-coach, which had been fetched for the purpose, by the ever
watchful Sam Weller.

Sam had put up the steps; and was preparing to jump upon the box,
when he felt himself gently touched on the shoulder; and looking
round, his father stood before him. The old gentleman's countenance
wore a mournful expression, as he shook his head gravely, and said,
in warning accents:

'I know'd what 'ud come 'o this here mode 'o doin' bisness. Oh
Sammy, Sammy, vy worn't there a alleybi!'

We may wonder that the laborious Chamber Counsel Serjeant Snubbin did not advise "moving for a new trial." The verdict was clearly a wrong one--no sufficient evidence had been furnished either of a promise, or a breach. The full court would no doubt have granted the motion, and this would have led to Mr. Pickwick's release, for the astute Dodson and Fogg must have recognised their poor chances, and perhaps have required "security for costs," which their client could not have given. However, the idea did not occur to anybody.

Since the law was changed both plaintiff and defendant may be examined in such cases as these. What a different complexion this would have put on the suit. The whole case would have tumbled to pieces like a pack of cards. For Mr. Pickwick "put into the box" would have clearly shown that all that had been thus misconstrued, was his proposal for engaging a valet, which was to have been that very morning. He would have related the words of the dialogue, and the Jury would have seen at once how the mistake arose. On the other hand, he would have been exposed to a severe rating cross examination by the learned Serjeant--fortified by Winkle's most damaging slip about the White Horse incident--who would have forced out of him all the incidents. We can almost hear the Serjeant subject the Defendant to the torture.

"This fellow of yours, Sir, was he recommended to you by a friend?"

"No--not at all."

"By a Registry Office?"

"Certainly not--nothing of the kind."

"Nothing of the kind? I suppose too low a class of place for you, eh? Come Sir!"

"I never said such a thing."

"Nor thought it, I suppose? Come, Sir, no beating about the bush. In plain terms, did you get him from a low Public House in the Boro'?"

Mr. Pickwick started up.

"Never!"

"Do you deny it?"

"I never knew that the White Hart was a low Public-House," said the witness indignantly.

"Never mind what you know, Sir. Did you or did you not get him from there?" thundered the Serjeant.

"Of course I did."

"Of course you did. Then what's the use of all this juggling. It does you no good with My Lord and the Jury. I tell you plainly, Mr. Pickwick, we mean to have all out of you. Now Sir, was this man of yours an experienced valet?"

"Certainly not."