last the momentous morning came round. It was the fourteenth of February, Valentine’s Day, 1828 – one not of good omen for the Plaintiff. 1 The Defendant’s party was rather gloomy at breakfast, when Perker, by wave of encouraging his client, uttered some dicta as to the chances of the Jury having had a good breakfast “Discontented or hungry jurymen, my dear Sir, always find for the Plaintiff.” “Bless my heart,” said Mr. Pickwick, looking very blank, “What do they do that for!”
The party then got into hackney coaches and was driven to the Guildhall, where the case was to be tried at ten o’clock precisely.
How dramatic Boz has made the “calling of the Jury,” which might be thought an uninteresting and prosaic operation enough. It was a special jury, which entailed one guinea per head extra expense on Mr. Pickwick. He had, of course, asked for it: but Dodson and Fogg would have been well content with and perhaps even have preferred a common jury. Now-a-days, special jurors, though summoned largely, have to be almost coerced into attending. A fine of ten pounds is imposed, but this is almost invariably remitted on affidavit. The common jurors, moreover, do not show the reluctance to “serve” of Groffin, the chemist. A guinea is not to be despised. There are, as it were, professional common jurors who hang about the Courts in the hope of being thus called as “understudies.” On this occasion what was called a Tales was prayed for, and two common jurors were pressed into the service: and “a greengrocer and a chemist were caught directly.”
It is impossible to say too much of the completeness with which the legal scene is put forward. Everything is dealt with. We have perfect sketches of the judge, the ushers, the jury, the counsel on the case, the witnesses, the barristers, the attorneys; we have the speeches, the methods of examination and cross-examination.
There is nothing better or more life-like than the sketch of the court in the chill morning, and before the actors came on the scene – the inimitable description of the idle barristers hanging about “the Bar of England,” which is accurate to this hour.
Few could describe effectively the peculiar appearance of a crowd of barristers assembled in a Court of Law. They are a type apart, and their odd headgear accentuates all the peculiarities of their faces. No one has, however, succeeded so well as Boz in touching off their peculiarities. This sort of histrionic guise and bearing is assumed with a view to impose on his friends and the public, to suggest an idea that they have much or at least something to do.
‘And that,’ said Mr. Pickwick, pointing to a couple of enclosed seats on his right, ‘that’s where the jurymen sit, is it not?’
‘The identical place, my dear Sir,’ replied Perker, tapping the lid of his snuff-box.
Mr. Pickwick stood up in a state of great agitation and took a glance at the court. There were already a pretty large sprinkling of spectators in the gallery, and a numerous muster of gentlemen in wigs in the barristers’ seats, who presented, as a body, all that pleasing and extensive variety of nose and whisker for which the bar of England is so justly celebrated. Such of the gentlemen as had got a brief to carry, carried it in as conspicuous a manner as possible, and occasionally scratched their noses therewith, to impress the fact more strongly on the observation of the spectators.
One of the happiest descriptions is surely that of the binding of law books. A law library is the most repulsive and uninteresting thing in the world. The colour of the leather is unhealthy and disagreeable, and the necessary shading is secured at the expense of grace. Boz characterises it as ‘that under-done pie crust.’
Other gentlemen, who had no briefs to show, carried under their arms goodly octavos, with a red label behind, and that under-done-pie-crust-coloured cover, which is technically known as “law calf.” Others, who had neither briefs nor books, thrust their hands into their pockets, and looked as wise as they conveniently could; while others, again, moved here and there with great restlessness and earnestness of manner, content to awaken thereby the admiration and astonishment of the uninitiated stranger. The whole, to the great wonderment of Mr. Pickwick, were divided into little groups, who were chatting and discussing the news of the day in the most unfeeling manner possible – just as if no trial at all were coming on.
A bow from Mr. Phunky, as he entered, and took his seat behind the row appropriated to the King’s Counsel, attracted Mr. Pickwick’s attention; and he had scarcely returned it, when Mr. Serjeant Snubbin appeared, followed by Mr. Mallard, who half hid the Serjeant behind a large crimson bag, which he placed on his table, and after shaking hands with Perker, withdrew. Then there entered two or three more Serjeants, and among them, one with a fat body and a red face, who nodded in a friendly manner to Mr. Serjeant Snubbin, and said it was a fine morning.
‘Who’s that red-faced man, who said it was a fine morning and nodded to our counsel?’ whispered Mr. Pickwick.
‘Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz,’ replied Perker. ‘He’s opposed to us; he leads on the other side. That gentleman behind him is Mr. Skimpin, his junior.’
Mr. Pickwick was just on the point of inquiring, with great abhorrence of the man’s cold-blooded villainy, how Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz, who was counsel for the opposite party, dared to presume to tell Mr. Serjeant Snubbin, who was counsel for him, that it was a fine morning, – when he was interrupted by a general rising of the barristers, and a loud cry of ‘Silence!’ from the officers of the court. Looking round, he found that this was caused by the entrance of the Judge.
On reaching the Court, Perker said, “put Mr. Pickwick’s friends in the students’ box. Mr. Pickwick had better sit by me.” This useful provision for the instruction of legal probationers has fallen into desuetude – no place is reserved for the students now-a-days. Lord Campbell describes the custom and recalls an incident that occurred when he was sitting in the students’ box, close to the Bench.
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