The Pickwick Papers

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

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

Mr. Pickwick was regarding the chemist with feelings of the deepest horror, when a slight sensation was perceptible in the body of the court; and immediately afterwards Mrs. Bardell, supported by Mrs. Cluppins, was led in, and placed, in a drooping state, at the other end of the seat on which Mr. Pickwick sat. An extra–sized umbrella was then handed in by Mr. Dodson, and a pair of pattens by Mr. Fogg, each of whom had prepared a most sympathising and melancholy face for the occasion. Mrs. Sanders then appeared, leading in Master Bardell. At sight of her child, Mrs. Bardell started; suddenly recollecting herself, she kissed him in a frantic manner; then relapsing into a state of hysterical imbecility, the good lady requested to be informed where she was. In reply to this, Mrs. Cluppins and Mrs. Sanders turned their heads away and wept, while Messrs. Dodson and Fogg entreated the plaintiff to compose herself. Serjeant Buzfuz rubbed his eyes very hard with a large white handkerchief, and gave an appealing look towards the jury, while the judge was visibly affected, and several of the beholders tried to cough down their emotion.

‘Very good notion that indeed,’ whispered Perker to Mr. Pickwick. ‘Capital fellows those Dodson and Fogg; excellent ideas of effect, my dear Sir, excellent.’

As Perker spoke, Mrs. Bardell began to recover by slow degrees, while Mrs. Cluppins, after a careful survey of Master Bardell’s buttons and the button–holes to which they severally belonged, placed him on the floor of the court in front of his mother—a commanding position in which he could not fail to awaken the full commiseration and sympathy of both judge and jury. This was not done without considerable opposition, and many tears, on the part of the young gentleman himself, who had certain inward misgivings that the placing him within the full glare of the judge’s eye was only a formal prelude to his being immediately ordered away for instant execution, or for transportation beyond the seas, during the whole term of his natural life, at the very least.

‘Bardell and Pickwick,’ cried the gentleman in black, calling on the case, which stood first on the list.

‘I am for the plaintiff, my Lord,’ said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz.

‘Who is with you, Brother Buzfuz?’ said the judge. Mr. Skimpin bowed, to intimate that he was.

‘I appear for the defendant, my Lord,’ said Mr. Serjeant Snubbin.

‘Anybody with you, Brother Snubbin?’ inquired the court.

‘Mr. Phunky, my Lord,’ replied Serjeant Snubbin.

‘Serjeant Buzfuz and Mr. Skimpin for the plaintiff,’ said the judge, writing down the names in his note–book, and reading as he wrote; ‘for the defendant, Serjeant Snubbin and Mr. Monkey.’

‘Beg your Lordship’s pardon, Phunky.’

‘Oh, very good,’ said the judge; ‘I never had the pleasure of hearing the gentleman’s name before.’ Here Mr. Phunky bowed and smiled, and the judge bowed and smiled too, and then Mr. Phunky, blushing into the very whites of his eyes, tried to look as if he didn’t know that everybody was gazing at him, a thing which no man ever succeeded in doing yet, or in all reasonable probability, ever will.

‘Go on,’ said the judge.

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

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