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—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.
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