‘Yes, I have a pair of eyes,’ replied Sam, ‘and that’s just it. If they wos a pair o’ patent double million magnifyin’ gas microscopes of hextra power, p’raps I might be able to see through a flight o’ stairs and a deal door; but bein’ only eyes, you see, my wision ‘s limited.’
At this answer, which was delivered without the slightest appearance of irritation, and with the most complete simplicity and equanimity of manner, the spectators tittered, the little judge smiled, and Serjeant Buzfuz looked particularly foolish. After a short consultation with Dodson & Fogg, the learned Serjeant again turned towards Sam, and said, with a painful effort to conceal his vexation, ‘Now, Mr. Weller, I’ll ask you a question on another point, if you please.’
‘If you please, Sir,’ rejoined Sam, with the utmost good–humour.
‘Do you remember going up to Mrs. Bardell’s house, one night in November last?’ ‘Oh, yes, wery well.’
‘Oh, you do remember that, Mr. Weller,’ said Serjeant Buzfuz, recovering his spirits; ‘I thought we should get at something at last.’
‘I rayther thought that, too, sir,’ replied Sam; and at this the spectators tittered again.
‘Well; I suppose you went up to have a little talk about this trial—eh, Mr. Weller?’ said Serjeant Buzfuz, looking knowingly at the jury.
‘I went up to pay the rent; but we did get a–talkin’ about the trial,’ replied Sam.
‘Oh, you did get a–talking about the trial,’ said Serjeant Buzfuz, brightening up with the anticipation of some important discovery. ‘Now, what passed about the trial; will you have the goodness to tell us, Mr. Weller’?’
‘Vith all the pleasure in life, sir,’ replied Sam. ‘Arter a few unimportant obserwations from the two wirtuous females as has been examined here to–day, the ladies gets into a very great state o’ admiration at the honourable conduct of Mr. Dodson and Fogg—them two gen’l’men as is settin’ near you now.’ This, of course, drew general attention to Dodson & Fogg, who looked as virtuous as possible.
‘The attorneys for the plaintiff,’ said Mr. Serjeant Buzfuz. ‘Well! They spoke in high praise of the honourable conduct of Messrs. Dodson and Fogg, the attorneys for the plaintiff, did they?’
‘Yes,’ said Sam, ‘they said what a wery gen’rous thing it was o’ them to have taken up the case on spec, and to charge nothing at all for costs, unless they got ’em out of Mr. Pickwick.’
At this very unexpected reply, the spectators tittered again, and Dodson & Fogg, turning very red, leaned over to Serjeant Buzfuz, and in a hurried manner whispered something in his ear.
‘You are quite right,’ said Serjeant Buzfuz aloud, with affected composure. ‘It’s perfectly useless, my Lord, attempting to get at any evidence through the impenetrable stupidity of this witness. I will not trouble the court by asking him any more questions. Stand down, sir.’
‘Would any other gen’l’man like to ask me anythin’?’ inquired Sam, taking up his hat, and looking round most deliberately.
‘Not I, Mr. Weller, thank you,’ said Serjeant Snubbin, laughing.
‘You may go down, sir,’ said Serjeant Buzfuz, waving his hand impatiently. Sam went down accordingly, after doing Messrs. Dodson & Fogg’s case as much harm as he conveniently could, and saying just as little respecting Mr. Pickwick as might be, which was precisely the object he had had in view all along.
‘I have no objection to admit, my Lord,’ said Serjeant Snubbin, ‘if it will save the examination of another witness, that Mr. Pickwick has retired from business, and is a gentleman of considerable independent property.’
‘Very well,’ said Serjeant Buzfuz, putting in the two letters to be read, ‘then that’s my case, my Lord.’
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; but inasmuch as our readers are far better able to form a correct estimate of that gentleman’s merits and deserts, than Serjeant Snubbin could possibly be, we do not feel called upon to enter at any length into the learned gentleman’s observations. 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.
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. The jury then retired to their private room to talk the matter over, and the judge retired to his private room, to refresh himself with a mutton chop and a glass of sherry. An anxious quarter of a 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 & 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’ll think better of that, before next term, Mr. Pickwick.’
‘He, he, he! We’ll soon see about that, Mr. Pickwick,’ grinned 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,