Freeman's Court, Cornhill, sat the four clerks of Messrs. Dodson & Fogg,
two of his Majesty's attorneys of the courts of King's Bench and Common
Pleas at Westminster, and solicitors of the High Court of Chancery--the
aforesaid clerks catching as favourable glimpses of heaven's light and
heaven's sun, in the course of their daily labours, as a man might
hope to do, were he placed at the bottom of a reasonably deep well; and
without the opportunity of perceiving the stars in the day-time, which
the latter secluded situation affords.
The clerks' office of Messrs. Dodson & Fogg was a dark, mouldy,
earthy-smelling room, with a high wainscotted partition to screen the
clerks from the vulgar gaze, a couple of old wooden chairs, a very
loud-ticking clock, an almanac, an umbrella-stand, a row of hat-pegs,
and a few shelves, on which were deposited several ticketed bundles of
dirty papers, some old deal boxes with paper labels, and sundry decayed
stone ink bottles of various shapes and sizes. There was a glass door
leading into the passage which formed the entrance to the court, and on
the outer side of this glass door, Mr. Pickwick, closely followed by
Sam Weller, presented himself on the Friday morning succeeding the
occurrence of which a faithful narration is given in the last chapter.
'Come in, can't you!' cried a voice from behind the partition, in reply
to Mr. Pickwick's gentle tap at the door. And Mr. Pickwick and Sam
entered accordingly.
'Mr. Dodson or Mr. Fogg at home, sir?' inquired Mr. Pickwick, gently,
advancing, hat in hand, towards the partition.
'Mr. Dodson ain't at home, and Mr. Fogg's particularly engaged,' replied
the voice; and at the same time the head to which the voice belonged,
with a pen behind its ear, looked over the partition, and at Mr.
Pickwick.
It was a ragged head, the sandy hair of which, scrupulously parted
on one side, and flattened down with pomatum, was twisted into little
semi-circular tails round a flat face ornamented with a pair of small
eyes, and garnished with a very dirty shirt collar, and a rusty black
stock.
'Mr. Dodson ain't at home, and Mr. Fogg's particularly engaged,' said
the man to whom the head belonged.
'When will Mr. Dodson be back, sir?' inquired Mr. Pickwick. 'Can't say.'
'Will it be long before Mr. Fogg is disengaged, Sir?'
'Don't know.'
Here the man proceeded to mend his pen with great deliberation, while
another clerk, who was mixing a Seidlitz powder, under cover of the lid
of his desk, laughed approvingly.
'I think I'll wait,' said Mr. Pickwick. There was no reply; so Mr.
Pickwick sat down unbidden, and listened to the loud ticking of the
clock and the murmured conversation of the clerks.
'That was a game, wasn't it?' said one of the gentlemen, in a brown coat
and brass buttons, inky drabs, and bluchers, at the conclusion of some
inaudible relation of his previous evening's adventures.
'Devilish good--devilish good,' said the Seidlitz-powder man. 'Tom
Cummins was in the chair,' said the man with the brown coat. 'It was
half-past four when I got to Somers Town, and then I was so uncommon
lushy, that I couldn't find the place where the latch-key went in, and
was obliged to knock up the old 'ooman. I say, I wonder what old Fogg
'ud say, if he knew it. I should get the sack, I s'pose--eh?'
At this humorous notion, all the clerks laughed in concert.
'There was such a game with Fogg here, this mornin',' said the man in
the brown coat, 'while Jack was upstairs sorting the papers, and you two
were gone to the stamp-office. Fogg was down here, opening the letters
when that chap as we issued the writ against at Camberwell, you know,
came in--what's his name again?'
'Ramsey,' said the clerk who had spoken to Mr. Pickwick.
'Ah, Ramsey--a precious seedy-looking customer. "Well, sir," says old
Fogg, looking at him very fierce--you know his way--"well, Sir, have you
come to settle?" "Yes, I have, sir," said Ramsey, putting his hand in
his pocket, and bringing out the money, "the debt's two pound ten, and
the costs three pound five, and here it is, Sir;" and he sighed like
bricks, as he lugged out the money, done up in a bit of blotting-paper.
Old Fogg looked first at the money, and then at him, and then he coughed
in his rum way, so that I knew something was coming. "You don't know
there's a declaration filed, which increases the costs materially, I
suppose," said Fogg. "You don't say that, sir," said Ramsey, starting
back; "the time was only out last night, Sir." "I do say it, though,"
said Fogg, "my clerk's just gone to file it. Hasn't Mr. Jackson gone
to file that declaration in Bullman and Ramsey, Mr. Wicks?" Of course I
said yes, and then Fogg coughed again, and looked at Ramsey. "My God!"
said Ramsey; "and here have I nearly driven myself mad, scraping this
money together, and all to no purpose." "None at all," said Fogg coolly;
"so you had better go back and scrape some more together, and bring it
here in time." "I can't get it, by God!" said Ramsey, striking the desk
with his fist. "Don't bully me, sir," said Fogg, getting into a passion
on purpose. "I am not bullying you, sir," said Ramsey. "You are," said
Fogg; "get out, sir; get out of this office, Sir, and come back, Sir,
when you know how to behave yourself." Well, Ramsey tried to speak, but
Fogg wouldn't let him, so he put the money in his pocket, and sneaked
out. The door was scarcely shut, when old Fogg turned round to me, with
a sweet smile on his face, and drew the declaration out of his coat
pocket. "Here, Wicks," says Fogg, "take a cab, and go down to the Temple
as quick as you can, and file that. The costs are quite safe, for he's a
steady man with a large family, at a salary of five-and-twenty shillings
a week, and if he gives us a warrant of attorney, as he must in the end,
I know his employers will see it paid; so we may as well get all we can
get out of him, Mr. Wicks; it's a Christian act to do it, Mr. Wicks, for
with his large family and small income, he'll be all the better for
a good lesson against getting into debt--won't he, Mr. Wicks, won't
he?"--and he smiled so good-naturedly as he went away, that it was
delightful to see him. He is a capital man of business,' said Wicks, in
a tone of the deepest admiration, 'capital, isn't he?'
The other three cordially subscribed to this opinion, and the anecdote
afforded the most unlimited satisfaction.
'Nice men these here, Sir,' whispered Mr. Weller to his master; 'wery
nice notion of fun they has, Sir.'
Mr. Pickwick nodded assent, and coughed to attract the attention of
the young gentlemen behind the partition, who, having now relaxed their
minds by a little conversation among themselves, condescended to take
some notice of the stranger.
'I wonder whether Fogg's disengaged now?' said Jackson.
'I'll see,' said Wicks, dismounting leisurely from his stool. 'What name
shall I tell Mr. Fogg?'
'Pickwick,' replied the illustrious subject of these memoirs.
Mr. Jackson departed upstairs on his errand, and immediately returned
with a message that Mr. Fogg would see Mr. Pickwick in five minutes; and
having delivered it, returned again to his desk.
'What did he say his name was?' whispered Wicks.
'Pickwick,' replied Jackson; 'it's the defendant in Bardell and
Pickwick.'
A sudden scraping of feet, mingled with the sound of suppressed
laughter, was heard from behind the partition.
'They're a-twiggin' of you, Sir,' whispered Mr. Weller.
'Twigging of me, Sam!' replied Mr. Pickwick; 'what do you mean by
twigging me?'
Mr. Weller replied by pointing with his thumb over his shoulder, and Mr.
Pickwick, on looking up, became sensible of the pleasing fact, that all
the four clerks, with countenances expressive of the utmost amusement,
and with their heads thrust over the wooden screen, were minutely
inspecting the figure and general appearance of the supposed trifler
with female hearts, and disturber of female happiness. On his looking
up, the row of heads suddenly disappeared, and the sound of pens
travelling at a furious rate over paper, immediately succeeded.
A sudden ring at the bell which hung in the office, summoned Mr. Jackson
to the apartment of Fogg, from whence he came back to say that he (Fogg)
was ready to see Mr. Pickwick if he would step upstairs. Upstairs Mr.
Pickwick did step accordingly, leaving Sam Weller below. The room door
of the one-pair back, bore inscribed in legible characters the imposing
words, 'Mr. Fogg'; and, having tapped thereat, and been desired to come
in, Jackson ushered Mr. Pickwick into the presence.
'Is Mr. Dodson in?' inquired Mr. Fogg.
'Just come in, Sir,' replied Jackson.
'Ask him to step here.'
'Yes, sir.' Exit Jackson.
'Take a seat, sir,' said Fogg; 'there is the paper, sir; my partner will
be here directly, and we can converse about this matter, sir.'
Mr. Pickwick took a seat and the paper, but, instead of reading the
latter, peeped over the top of it, and took a survey of the man of
business, who was an elderly, pimply-faced, vegetable-diet sort of man,
in a black coat, dark mixture trousers, and small black gaiters; a kind
of being who seemed to be an essential part of the desk at which he was
writing, and to have as much thought or feeling.
After a few minutes' silence, Mr. Dodson, a plump, portly, stern-looking
man, with a loud voice, appeared; and the conversation commenced.
'This is Mr. Pickwick,' said Fogg.
'Ah! You are the defendant, Sir, in Bardell and Pickwick?' said Dodson.
'I am, sir,' replied Mr. Pickwick.
'Well, sir,' said Dodson, 'and what do you propose?'
'Ah!' said Fogg, thrusting his hands into his trousers' pockets, and
throwing himself back in his chair, 'what do you propose, Mr Pickwick?'
'Hush, Fogg,' said Dodson, 'let me hear what Mr. Pickwick has to say.'
'I came, gentlemen,' said Mr. Pickwick, gazing placidly on the two
partners, 'I came here, gentlemen, to express the surprise with which
I received your letter of the other day, and to inquire what grounds of
action you can have against me.'
'Grounds of--' Fogg had ejaculated this much, when he was stopped by
Dodson.
'Mr. Fogg,' said Dodson, 'I am going to speak.' 'I beg your pardon, Mr.
Dodson,' said Fogg.
'For the grounds of action, sir,' continued Dodson, with moral elevation
in his air, 'you will consult your own conscience and your own feelings.
We, Sir, we, are guided entirely by the statement of our client. That
statement, Sir, may be true, or it may be false; it may be credible, or
it may be incredible; but, if it be true, and if it be credible, I do
not hesitate to say, Sir, that our grounds of action, Sir, are strong,
and not to be shaken. You may be an unfortunate man, Sir, or you may be
a designing one; but if I were called upon, as a juryman upon my oath,
Sir, to express an opinion of your conduct, Sir, I do not hesitate to
assert that I should have but one opinion about it.' Here Dodson drew
himself up, with an air of offended virtue, and looked at Fogg, who
thrust his hands farther in his pockets, and nodding his head sagely,
said, in a tone of the fullest concurrence, 'Most certainly.'
'Well, Sir,' said Mr. Pickwick, with considerable pain depicted in
his countenance, 'you will permit me to assure you that I am a most
unfortunate man, so far as this case is concerned.'
'I hope you are, Sir,' replied Dodson; 'I trust you may be, Sir. If
you are really innocent of what is laid to your charge, you are more
unfortunate than I had believed any man could possibly be. What do you
say, Mr. Fogg?'
'I say precisely what you say,' replied Fogg, with a smile of
incredulity.
'The writ, Sir, which commences the action,' continued Dodson, 'was
issued regularly. Mr. Fogg, where is the PRAECIPE book?'
'Here it is,' said Fogg, handing over a square book, with a parchment
cover.
'Here is the entry,' resumed Dodson. '"Middlesex, Capias MARTHA
BARDELL, WIDOW, v. SAMUEL PICKWICK. Damages #1500. Dodson & Fogg for the
plaintiff, Aug. 28, 1827." All regular, Sir; perfectly.' Dodson coughed
and looked at Fogg, who said 'Perfectly,' also. And then they both
looked at Mr. Pickwick.
'I am to understand, then,' said Mr. Pickwick, 'that it really is your
intention to proceed with this action?'
'Understand, sir!--that you certainly may,' replied Dodson, with
something as near a smile as his importance would allow.
'And that the damages are actually laid at fifteen hundred pounds?' said
Mr. Pickwick.
'To which understanding you may add my assurance, that if we could
have prevailed upon our client, they would have been laid at treble the
amount, sir,' replied Dodson. 'I believe Mrs. Bardell specially said,
however,' observed Fogg, glancing at Dodson, 'that she would not
compromise for a farthing less.'
'Unquestionably,' replied Dodson sternly. For the action was only just
begun; and it wouldn't have done to let Mr. Pickwick compromise it then,
even if he had been so disposed.
'As you offer no terms, sir,' said Dodson, displaying a slip of
