Chapter II: Part 2

If Mr. Perker had lived to-day instead of in the year 1827, he would undoubtedly have been tried for the part he took in the Eatanswill election. What is the charge, after all, against Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, except that question with regard to poor Ramsey?--which, after all, is only a story told by the clerk Wicks, upon whom I do not think we can place very much reliance. What else did Dodson and Fogg do that should make them the object of obloquy and universal execration? They brought an action for breach of promise of marriage--some people think such actions should never be brought at all--they brought the action for breach of promise of marriage; they made a little arrangement with regard to costs, unprofessional if you like, but still nothing to bring down upon them the denouncement to which they have been made subject. So far as Mr. Pickwick was concerned, he had absolutely nothing to complain of in their conduct; and I venture to say it was most reprehensible in him under the circumstances to use the language which he did upon the occasion which I have quoted. But against Mr. Pell there is absolutely nothing to be said. He perhaps romanced a little with regard to his friendship with the Lord Chancellor; but which of us would not like to be on friendly terms with the Lord Chancellor? On that trifling exaggeration there is nothing practically to be urged against him; and while I claim for Mr. Pell the position of premier in this matter, I am sorry I have to accord to Mr. Perker the third place.

Well, now, although I would love to linger over Mr. Pell, I must pass on to say something of the counsel mentioned in this admirable work. But before I consider the more eminent and the more conspicuous of these, there is one member of the Bar who is seldom alluded to, but of whom I wish to say something to-night. I refer to Mr. Prosee. Mr. Prosee very few of you have ever heard of. He dined with Mr. Perker at Montague Place, Russell Square, on one occasion. It must have been rather a dull dinner party, for there were present two good country agents, Mr. Snicks, the Life Office Secretary, Mr. Prosee, the eminent counsel, three solicitors, one Commissioner of Bankrupts, a special pleader from the Temple, a small-eyed, peremptory young gentleman, his pupil, who had written a lively book about the law of demises, with a vast quantity of marginal notes and references; and several other eminent and distinguished personages, including the Mr. Prosee just mentioned.

Ladies and gentlemen, I do not know how it is, but I have always associated Mr. Prosee with the Equity Bar. It may be that his name suggests it.

Well, I come now to the counsel which is better known to you, namely
Serjeant Snubbin.

"We've done everything that's necessary," said Mr. Perker. "I have
retained Serjeant Snubbin."

"Is he a good man?" inquired Mr. Pickwick.

"Good man!" replied Perker. "Bless your heart and soul, my dear sir,
Serjeant Snubbin is at the very top of his profession. Gets treble
the business of any man in court--engaged in every case. You needn't
mention it abroad, but we say--we of the profession--that Serjeant
Snubbin leads the court by the nose."

"I should like to see him," said Mr. Pickwick.

"See Serjeant Snubbin, my dear sir!" rejoined Perker, in utter
amazement. "Pooh, pooh! my dear sir, impossible! See Serjeant
Snubbin! Bless you, my dear sir, such a thing was never heard of
without a consultation fee being previously paid, and a consultation
fixed. It couldn't be done, my dear sir--it couldn't be done!"

Thus was Mr. Pickwick brought face to face with the difficulty of seeing his own counsel. He could not understand why, having retained the services of a professional man and paid for them, there should exist any impediment to prevent access to him. I won't discuss to-night the advisability or non-advisability of dividing the profession of the law into two parts, but I do say that any system which prevents litigants having the fullest personal communication with those they have paid to represent them is an anomaly and an absurdity.

But Mr. Pickwick was a person of determination, and he did see Serjeant Snubbin, and he delivered to that learned gentleman a short address that was well worthy of his attention, as it is of every member of the Bar, including your very humble servant.

"Gentlemen of your profession, sir," continued Mr. Pickwick, "see the
worst side of human nature. All its disputes, all its ill-will and
bad blood, rise up before you. You know from your experience of
juries (I mean no disparagement to you, or them) how much depends upon
_effect_; and you are apt to attribute to others a desire to use, for
purposes of deception and self-interest, the very instruments which
you, in pure honesty and honour of purpose, and with a laudable desire
to do your utmost for your client, know the temper and worth of so
well, from constantly employing them yourselves. I really believe
that to this circumstance may be attributed the vulgar but very
general notion of your being, as a body, suspicious, distrustful, and
overcautious. Conscious as I am, sir, of the disadvantage of making
such a declaration to you, under such circumstances, I have come here,
because I wish you distinctly to understand, as my friend Mr. Perker
has said, that I am innocent of the falsehood laid to my charge; and
although I am very well aware of the inestimable value of your
assistance, sir, I must beg to add that, unless you sincerely believe
this, I would rather be deprived of the aid of your talents than have
the advantage of them."

The only effect this had upon Serjeant Snubbin was to cause him to ask
rather snappishly,--

"Who is with me in this case?"

"Mr. Phunky, Serjeant Snubbin," replied the attorney.

"Phunky, Phunky," said the Serjeant, "I never heard the name before.
He must be a very young man."

"Yes, he is a very young man," replied the attorney. "He was only
called the other day. Let me see--he has not been at the Bar eight
years yet."

"Ah, I thought not," said the Serjeant, in that sort of pitying tone
in which ordinary folks would speak of a very helpless little child.
"Mr. Mallard, send round to Mr.--Mr.--"

"Phunky's--Holborn Court, Gray's Inn," interposed Perker. (Holborn
Court, by-the-bye, is South Square now.)

"Mr. Phunky, and say I should be glad if he'd step here a moment."

Mr. Mallard departed to execute his commission, and Serjeant Snubbin
relapsed into abstraction until Mr. Phunky himself was introduced.

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 forefinger 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
eye 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.

Mr. Phunky would not hear of passing through any door until Mr.
Pickwick and his solicitor had passed through before him, so it was
some time before they got into the Square; and when they did reach it
they walked up and down, and held a long conference, the result of
which was that it was a very difficult matter to say how the verdict
would go; that nobody could presume to calculate on the issue of an
action; that it was very lucky they had prevented the other party from
getting Serjeant Snubbin; and other topics of doubt and consolation
common in such a position of affairs.

Mr. Pickwick's lawsuit was to be tried in the Court of Common Pleas, a division in which Serjeants-at-Law had the exclusive right to practise. At this time, 1827, and indeed up till 1873, every common law judge was turned into a Serjeant, if he were not one ere he was promoted to the Bench. It was a solemn kind of ceremony. The subject of the operation was led out of the precincts of the Inns of Court; the church bell tolled as for one dead.

He was then admitted member of Serjeants' Inn; and the judge would address the Serjeants who practised before him as Brother So-and-So. Justice Lindley was the last judge who took the degree, a degree the only outward visible sign of which is the black patch or coif which is attached to the top of the wig. I do not know what kind of counsel Serjeant Snubbin, retained by Mr. Perker for the defendant, was; but Dodson and Fogg had retained Serjeant Buzfuz for the plaintiff, and we all know that Serjeant Snubbin was no match for Serjeant Buzfuz. It has been objected by a writer in _Fraser's Magazine_, to the account of this trial, that it is full of inconsistencies. Serjeant Buzfuz' case, he says, was absurd, and that he would not have been able to browbeat any witness, and that no jury could have given a verdict on such evidence. This criticism resembles many other criticisms of Pickwick. Had the description in Pickwick been intended as a serious picture of the proceedings in a court of justice, it would have been open to much serious dissection and examination.

But the writer just quoted did not, it seems, possess a sufficient sense of humour to enable him to see that this chapter of "Pickwick" was intended for broad fun amounting to burlesque, and nothing more; and to examine Mr. Buzfuz' proceedings by the light of the law is to strip them of their meaning.

I mentioned just now that this trial took place in 1827. At that time, as I daresay some of you are aware, the parties to the action could not be called upon to give evidence; and Lord Denman did not, I think, till 1843 remove the Arcadian fetters which bound the litigants in this fashion. But, ladies and gentlemen, what a fortunate thing it was for Mr. Pickwick that he could not be called upon that occasion. If Mr. Pickwick had been called he would have been cross-examined. Let us imagine for a moment what that cross-examination would have been. Suppose merely for the sake of example that that operation had been performed by my honourable and learned friend the Attorney-General. Cannot you imagine how in the first place he would forcibly but firmly have interrogated Mr. Pickwick with regard to his conduct after the cricket match at Muggleton; how he would have asked him whether he was prepared to admit, or whether he was prepared to deny, that he was drunk upon that occasion? Could you not imagine how my honourable and learned friend, passing on from that topic, would have alluded to what I think he would have termed the disgraceful incident when, on the 1st of September, Mr. Pickwick was found in a wheelbarrow on the ground of Captain Boldwig, and was removed to the public pound, from which he was only extricated by the violence of his friends and servant? Passing on from that topic, would not my honourable and learned friend have reminded him of how he had been bound over at Ipswich before Mr. Nupkins, together with his friend Mr. Tupman, and called upon to find bail for good behaviour for six months? Then in conclusion how my friend would have turned to that incident in the double-bedded room at Ipswich, at the Great White Horse, and how my learned friend, with that skill which he possesses, would, bit by bit, by slow degrees, have extricated from that miserable man the confession that he had been found in that double-bedded room, a spinster lady being there at the same time. Ladies and gentlemen, what would have been left of Mr. Pickwick after that process had been gone through? His only relief would have been to write to the _Times_ newspaper, and to complain of cross- examination.

Indeed, no notice of this case, as indeed no reference to the lawyers of "Pickwick," would be regarded as in any sense complete that did not include the remarkable forensic efforts of Serjeant Buzfuz. Oft read, oft recited, oft quoted, it stands to-day, perhaps, the best-known speech ever delivered at the Bar.

We are told that the speech of Serjeant Snubbin was long and emphatic, but at any rate it was ineffective, and that learned gentleman committed a grave error in entrusting the cross-examination of Mr. Winkle to Mr. Phunky. Now it does sometimes happen, in the course of a case, that owing to the absence of the leading counsel, which sometimes occurs, the cross-examination of a witness, perchance an important one, is left to some junior; but this excuse did not exist in this case. Serjeant Snubbin was there in Court, because we hear that he winked at Mr. Phunky to intimate to him that he had better sit down; and this, as we know, from what I have told you just now, was the first brief that Mr. Phunky had ever had. No, Serjeant Snubbin was over-matched throughout by Serjeant Buzfuz, and Mr. Phunky was no match even for the scheming junior on the other side, and Perker was no match for Dodson and Fogg. The law, as we are told in one of George Eliot's books, is a kind of cock-fight, in which it is the business of injured honesty to get a game bird with the best pluck and the strongest spurs; and I venture to think that the combined pluck of Buzfuz and Skimpin by far outweighed any of that commodity possessed by Snubbin and Phunky. No wonder Mr. Pickwick lost his case; but his case never recovered the effect of the speech which I now propose to read to you.

Serjeant Buzfuz began by saying that never, in the whole course of his
professional experience--never, from the very first moment of his
applying himself to the study and practice of the law--had he
approached a case with feelings of such deep emotion, or with such a
heavy sense of the responsibility imposed upon him--a responsibility,
he would say, which he could never have supported, were he not buoyed
up and sustained by a conviction so strong, that it amounted to
positive certainty that the cause of truth and justice, or, in other
words, the cause of his much injured and most oppressed client, must
prevail with the high-minded and intelligent dozen of men whom he now
saw in that box before him.

Counsel usually begin in this way, because it puts the jury on the
very best terms with themselves, and makes them think what sharp
fellows they must be. A visible effect was produced immediately;
several jurymen beginning to take voluminous notes with the utmost
eagerness.

"You have heard from my learned friend, gentlemen," continued Serjeant
Buzfuz--well knowing that, from the learned friend alluded to, the
gentlemen of the jury had heard just nothing at all--"you have heard
from my learned friend, gentlemen, 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
come within my learned friend's province to tell you, what are the
facts and circumstances of the case. Those facts and circumstances,
gentlemen, you shall hear detailed by me, and proved by the
unimpeachable female whom I will place in that box before you."

Here Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz, with a tremendous emphasis on the word
"box," smote his table with a mighty sound, and glanced at Dodson and
Fogg, who nodded admiration to the Serjeant, and indignant defiance of
the defendant.

"The plaintiff, gentlemen," continued Serjeant Buzfuz, in a soft and
melancholy voice, "the plaintiff is a widow; yes, gentlemen, a widow.
The late Mr. Bardell, after enjoying, for many years, the esteem and
confidence of his sovereign, as one of the guardians of his royal
revenues, glided almost imperceptibly from the world, to seek
elsewhere for that repose and peace which a custom house can never
afford."

At this pathetic description of the decease of Mr. Bardell, who had
been knocked on the head with a quart pot in a public-house cellar,
the learned Serjeant's voice faltered, and he proceeded with emotion,--

"Some time before his death he had stamped his likeness upon a little
boy. With this little boy, the only pledge of her departed exciseman,
Mrs. Bardell shrunk from the world, and courted the retirement and
tranquillity of Goswell Street; and here she placed in her front
parlour-window a written placard, bearing this inscription--'Apartments
furnished for a single gentleman. Inquire within.'" Here Serjeant
Buzfuz paused, while several gentlemen of the jury took a note of the
document.

"There is no date to that, is there?" inquired a juror.

"There is no date, gentlemen," replied Serjeant Buzfuz; "but I am
instructed to say that it was put in the plaintiff's parlour-window
just this time three years. I 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 the 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 inquired within--he took the lodgings; and on the
very next day he entered into possession of them. The man was
Pickwick--Pickwick, the defendant."

Serjeant Buzfuz, who had proceeded with such volubility that his face
was perfectly crimson, here paused for breath. 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 the
jury with the belief that he always thought most deeply with his eyes
shut. Serjeant Buzfuz proceeded.

"Of this man Pickwick I will say little; the subject presents but few
attractions; and I, gentlemen, am not the man, nor are you, gentlemen,
the men, to delight in the contemplation of revolting heartlessness
and of systematic villainy."

Here Mr. Pickwick, who had been writhing in silence for some time,
gave a violent start, as if some vague idea of assaulting Serjeant
Buzfuz, in the august presence of justice and law, suggested itself to
his mind. An admonitory gesture from Perker restrained him, and he
listened to the learned gentleman's continuation with a look of
indignation, which contrasted forcibly with the admiring faces of Mrs.
Cluppins and Mrs. Sanders.

"I say systematic villainy, gentlemen," said Serjeant Buzfuz, looking
through Mr. Pickwick, and talking _at_ him; "and when I say systematic
villainy, 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 how 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. Serjeant Buzfuz,
having partially recovered from the state of moral elevation into
which he had lashed himself, resumed,--

"I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years Pickwick continued to
reside constantly, and without interruption or intermission, at Mrs.
Bardell's house. I shall show you that Mrs. Bardell, during the whole
of that time, waited on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his
meals, looked out his linen for the washerwoman when it went abroad,
darned, aired, and prepared it for wear, and, in short, enjoyed his
fullest trust and confidence. I shall show you that, on many
occasions, he gave halfpence, and on some occasions even sixpences, to
her little boy; and I shall prove to you, by a witness whose testimony
it will be impossible for my learned friend to weaken or controvert,
that on one occasion he patted the boy on the head, and, after
inquiring whether he had won any _alley tors_ or _commoneys_ lately
(both of which I understand to be a particular species of marbles much
prized by the youth of this town), made use of this remarkable
expression: 'How should you like to have another father?' I shall
prove to you, gentlemen, that about a year ago Pickwick suddenly began
to absent himself from home during long intervals, as with the
intention of gradually breaking off from my client; but I shall show
you also that his resolution was 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; by proving to you that on one occasion, when he
returned from the country, he distinctly and in terms offered her
marriage; previously, however, taking special care that there should
be no witnesses to their solemn contract; and I am in a situation to
prove to you, on the testimony of three of his own friends--most
unwilling witnesses, gentlemen--most unwilling witnesses--that on that
morning he was discovered by them holding the plaintiff in his arms,
and soothing her agitation by his caresses and endearment."

A visible impression was produced upon the auditors by this part of
the learned Serjeant's address. Drawing forth two very small scraps
of paper, he proceeded,--

"And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two letters have passed
between these parties, letters which are admitted to be in the
handwriting of the defendant, and which speak volumes indeed. These
letters, too, bespeak the character of the man. They are not open,
fervent, eloquent epistles, breathing nothing but the language of
affectionate attachment. They are covert, sly, underhanded
communications; but, fortunately, far more conclusive than if couched
in the most glowing language and the most poetic imagery--letters that
must be viewed with a cautious and suspicious eye--letters that were
evidently intended at the time, by Pickwick, to mislead and delude any
third parties into whose hands they might fall. 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 shallow artifices as these? The
next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicious. 'Dear Mrs.
B., I shall not be at home till to-morrow. Slow coach.' And then
follows this very remarkable expression: 'Don't trouble yourself about
the warming-pan.' The warming-pan! Why, gentlemen, who _does_
trouble himself about a warming-pan? 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 comfortable article
of domestic furniture? Why is Mrs. Bardell so earnestly entreated not
to agitate herself about this warming-pan, unless (as is no doubt the
case) it is a mere 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 condition to explain!
And what does this allusion to the slow coach mean? For aught I know,
it may be a reference to Pickwick himself, who has most unquestionably
been a criminally slow coach during the whole of this transaction, but
whose speed will now be very unexpectedly accelerated, and whose
wheels, gentlemen, as he will find to his cost, will very soon be
greased by you!"

Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz 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 inquire 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 or 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 only recompense you can award to my client. And for
those damages she now appeals to an enlightened, a high-minded, a
right-feeling, a conscientious, a dispassionate, a sympathising, a
contemplative jury of her civilised countrymen."

With this beautiful peroration, Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz sat down, and Mr. Justice Stareleigh woke up.

Of the judge of this famous case we hear but little. He went to sleep, and he woke up again, and he tried to look as though he hadn't been asleep; in fact, he behaved very much as judges do.

Mr. Justice Stareleigh summed up in the old-established and most
approved form. He read as much of his notes to the jury as he could
decipher 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 wouldn't. If they were satisfied that a
breach of promise of marriage 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.

So, ladies and gentlemen, in conclusion, let me point out to you how all these types and instances of lawyers and lawyer life have received fair and impartial consideration from Charles Dickens, for which I, at any rate, am grateful. The public, however, to my mind, owe a deeper debt of gratitude to the man who, by his wit, his courage, and his industry, has brought about reforms in our legal administration for which all litigants and honourable practitioners should alike be grateful.

Sir CHARLES RUSSELL: Ladies and gentlemen,--We have spent, I am sure you will all think, a most enjoyable, as well as a most instructive evening, thanks to the vivid picture of the great novelist of our generation put before us by my friend Mr. Lockwood, who has pointed out with force and effect the serious obligation we are under for many reforms which exist in our day through the influence, sometimes serious, sometimes comic, which the great Charles Dickens gave to the world. It is an interesting occasion, and not the less interesting when you are informed that in this room to-night is the son of Mr. Charles Dickens--Mr. Henry Fielding Dickens--referred to by my friend Mr. Lockwood. Mr. Henry Dickens has not followed in his father's footsteps; he has chosen for himself the profession of the bar; and in that profession he has gained for himself a high and honourable name. At this hour I cannot permit myself to say more than to ask you to join in the vote of thanks which I now move to my friend Mr. Lockwood for the very admirable lecture which he has just given.

Vote of thanks seconded by MR. HILLIARD.

Mr. HENRY FIELDING DICKENS: Sir Charles Russell, ladies and gentlemen,--I assure you that when I came into this room to-night I had no more idea that I was to make any observations than--the man in the moon. I came here with the idea of listening to my old friend Mr. Frank Lockwood, with the sure and certain knowledge that I should derive a great deal of amusement and interest from his lecture. In that I need hardly say I have not been disappointed; but I assure you, ladies and gentlemen, that I have not only been interested, I have been touched. I am not alluding to the very graceful allusions and far too flattering observation upon myself given by the Attorney-General, but I am alluding to the spirit pervading this hall this evening--a spirit which proves to me that the memory of my father is still green among you all. To us who have the honour of bearing his name, that memory, I need hardly tell you, is still sacred; and to find that among his fellow-countrymen, though twenty-three years have passed since his death, there is still that feeling of affection felt for him that was felt for him in his lifetime, is most gratifying to us all. I assure you with all the warmth in my heart, and in the name of my sister and other members of the family, that I thank you most sincerely, not only for your generous reception of myself, but for the feeling you have demonstrated that you bear for my dear father.

Mr. FRANK LOCKWOOD: Sir Charles Russell, ladies and gentlemen,--I shall only detain you to say that I thank you for your great kindness to me to- night; it has been a pleasure to me to come. I was to have come, if I remember rightly, in June or July, 1892; I could not come because there was a General Election. I am very glad that I was not prevented from coming to-night by a--General Election.

THE END.

Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.