'Is he a good man?' inquired Mr. Pickwick.



'Good man!' replied Perker; 'bless your heart and soul, my dear



sir, Serjeant Snubbin is at the very top of his profession. Gets



treble the business of any man in court―engaged in every case.



You needn't mention it abroad; but we say―we of the profession―



that Serjeant Snubbin leads the court by the nose.'



The little man took another pinch of snuff as he made this



communication, and nodded mysteriously to Mr. Pickwick.



'They have subpoenaed my three friends,' said Mr. Pickwick.



'Ah! of course they would,' replied Perker. 'Important



witnesses; saw you in a delicate situation.'



'But she fainted of her own accord,' said Mr. Pickwick. 'She



threw herself into my arms.'



'Very likely, my dear sir,' replied Perker; 'very likely and very



natural. Nothing more so, my dear sir, nothing. But who's to prove



it?'



'They have subpoenaed my servant, too,' said Mr. Pickwick,



quitting the other point; for there Mr. Perker's question had



somewhat staggered him.



'Sam?' said Perker.



Mr. Pickwick replied in the affirmative.



'Of course, my dear sir; of course. I knew they would. I could



have told you that, a month ago. You know, my dear sir, if you will



take the management of your affairs into your own hands after



entrusting them to your solicitor, you must also take the



consequences.' Here Mr. Perker drew himself up with conscious



dignity, and brushed some stray grains of snuff from his shirt frill.



'And what do they want him to prove?' asked Mr. Pickwick,



after two or three minutes' silence.



'That you sent him up to the plaintiff 's to make some offer of a



compromise, I suppose,' replied Perker. 'It don't matter much,



though; I don't think many counsel could get a great deal out of



him.'



'I don't think they could,' said Mr. Pickwick, smiling, despite his



vexation, at the idea of Sam's appearance as a witness. 'What



course do we pursue?'



'We have only one to adopt, my dear sir,' replied Perker; 'cross-



examine the witnesses; trust to Snubbin's eloquence; throw dust



in the eyes of the judge; throw ourselves on the jury.'



'And suppose the verdict is against me?' said Mr. Pickwick.



Mr. Perker smiled, took a very long pinch of snuff, stirred the



fire, shrugged his shoulders, and remained expressively silent.



'You mean that in that case I must pay the damages?' said Mr.



Pickwick, who had watched this telegraphic answer with



considerable sternness.



Perker gave the fire another very unnecessary poke, and said, 'I



am afraid so.'



'Then I beg to announce to you my unalterable determination



to pay no damages whatever,' said Mr. Pickwick, most



emphatically. 'None, Perker. Not a pound, not a penny of my



money, shall find its way into the pockets of Dodson and Fogg.



That is my deliberate and irrevocable determination.' Mr.



Pickwick gave a heavy blow on the table before him, in



confirmation of the irrevocability of his intention.



'Very well, my dear sir, very well,' said Perker. 'You know best,



of course.'



'Of course,' replied Mr. Pickwick hastily. 'Where does Serjeant



Snubbin live?'



'In Lincoln's Inn Old Square,' replied Perker.



'I should like to see him,' said Mr. Pickwick.



'See Serjeant Snubbin, my dear sir!' rejoined Perker, in utter



amazement. 'Pooh, pooh, my dear sir, impossible. See Serjeant



Snubbin! Bless you, my dear sir, such a thing was never heard of,



without a consultation fee being previously paid, and a



consultation fixed. It couldn't be done, my dear sir; it couldn't be



done.'



Mr. Pickwick, however, had made up his mind not only that it



could be done, but that it should be done; and the consequence



was, that within ten minutes after he had received the assurance



that the thing was impossible, he was conducted by his solicitor



into the outer office of the great Serjeant Snubbin himself.



It was an uncarpeted room of tolerable dimensions, with a large



writing-table drawn up near the fire, the baize top of which had



long since lost all claim to its original hue of green, and had



gradually grown gray with dust and age, except where all traces of



its natural colour were obliterated by ink-stains. Upon the table



were numerous little bundles of papers tied with red tape; and



behind it, sat an elderly clerk, whose sleek appearance and heavy



gold watch-chain presented imposing indications of the extensive



and lucrative practice of Mr. Serjeant Snubbin.



'Is the Serjeant in his room, Mr. Mallard?' inquired Perker,



offering his box with all imaginable courtesy.



'Yes, he is,' was the reply, 'but he's very busy. Look here; not an



opinion given yet, on any one of these cases; and an expedition fee



paid with all of 'em.' The clerk smiled as he said this, and inhaled



the pinch of snuff with a zest which seemed to be compounded of a



fondness for snuff and a relish for fees.



'Something like practice that,' said Perker.



'Yes,' said the barrister's clerk, producing his own box, and



offering it with the greatest cordiality; 'and the best of it is, that as



nobody alive except myself can read the Serjeant's writing, they



are obliged to wait for the opinions, when he has given them, till I



have copied 'em, ha-ha-ha!'



'Which makes good for we know who, besides the Serjeant, and



draws a little more out of the clients, eh?' said Perker; 'ha, ha, ha!'



At this the Serjeant's clerk laughed again―not a noisy boisterous



laugh, but a silent, internalchuckle, which Mr. Pickwick disliked



to hear. When a man bleeds inwardly, it is a dangerous thing for



himself; but when he laughs inwardly, it bodes no good to other



people.



'You haven't made me out that little list of the fees that I'm in



your debt, have you?' said Perker.



'No, I have not,' replied the clerk.



'I wish you would,' said Perker. 'Let me have them, and I'll send



you a cheque. But I suppose you're too busy pocketing the ready



money, to think of the debtors, eh? ha, ha, ha!' This sally seemed



to tickle the clerk amazingly, and he once more enjoyed a little



quiet laugh to himself.



'But, Mr. Mallard, my dear friend,' said Perker, suddenly



recovering his gravity, and drawing the great man's great man



into a Corner, by the lappel of his coat; 'you must persuade the



Serjeant to see me, and my client here.'



'Come, come,' said the clerk, 'that's not bad either. See the



Serjeant! come, that's too absurd.' Notwithstanding the absurdity



of the proposal, however, the clerk allowed himself to be gently



drawn beyond the hearing of Mr. Pickwick; and after a short



conversation conducted in whispers, walked softly down a little



dark passage, and disappeared into the legal luminary's sanctum,



whence he shortly returned on tiptoe, and informed Mr. Perker



and Mr. Pickwick that the Serjeant had been prevailed upon, in



violation of all established rules and customs, to admit them at



once.



Mr. Serjeant Snubbins was a lantern-faced, sallow-



complexioned man, of about five-and-forty, or―as the novels say―



he might be fifty. He had that dull-looking, boiled eye which is



often to be seen in the heads of people who have applied



themselves during many years to a weary and laborious course of



study; and which would have been sufficient, without the



additional eyeglass which dangled from a broad black riband



round his neck, to warn a stranger that he was very near-sighted.



His hair was thin and weak, which was partly attributable to his



having never devoted much time to its arrangement, and partly to



his having worn for five-and-twenty years the forensic wig which



hung on a block beside him. The marks of hair-powder on his coat-



collar, and the ill-washed and worse tied white neckerchief round



his throat, showed that he had not found leisure since he left the court to make any alteration in his dress; while the slovenly style



of the remainder of his costume warranted the inference that his



personal appearance would not have been very much improved if



he had. Books of practice, heaps of papers, and opened letters,



were scattered over the table, without any attempt at order or



arrangement; the furniture of the room was old and rickety; the



doors of the book-case were rotting in their hinges; the dust flew



out from the carpet in little clouds at every step; the blinds were



yellow with age and dirt; the state of everything in the room



showed, with a clearness not to be mistaken, that Mr. Serjeant



Snubbin was far too much occupied with his professional pursuits



to take any great heed or regard of his personal comforts.



The Serjeant was writing when his clients entered; he bowed



abstractedly when Mr. Pickwick was introduced by his solicitor;



and then, motioning them to a seat, put his pen carefully in the



inkstand, nursed his left leg, and waited to be spoken to.



'Mr. Pickwick is the defendant in Bardell and Pickwick,



Serjeant Snubbin,' said Perker.



'I am retained in that, am I?' said the Serjeant.



'You are, sir,' replied Perker.



The Serjeant nodded his head, and waited for something else.



'Mr. Pickwick was anxious to call upon you, Serjeant Snubbin,'



said Perker, 'to state to you, before you entered upon the case, that



he denies there being any ground or pretence whatever for the



action against him; and that unless he came into court with clean



hands, and without the most conscientious conviction that he was



right in resisting the plaintiff's demand, he would not be there at



all. I believe I state your views correctly; do I not, my dear sir?'



said the little man, turning to Mr. Pickwick. 'Quite so,' replied that gentleman.



Mr. Serjeant Snubbin unfolded his glasses, raised them to his



eyes; and, after looking at Mr. Pickwick for a few seconds with



great curiosity, turned to Mr. Perker, and said, smiling slightly as



he spoke―'Has Mr. Pickwick a strong case?'



The attorney shrugged his shoulders.



'Do you propose calling witnesses?'



'No.'



The smile on the Serjeant's countenance became more defined;



he rocked his leg with increased violence; and, throwing himself



back in his easy-chair, coughed dubiously.



These tokens of the Serjeant's presentiments on the subject,



slight as they were, were not lost on Mr. Pickwick. He settled the



spectacles, through which he had attentively regarded such



demonstrations of the barrister's feelings as he had permitted



himself to exhibit, more firmly on his nose; and said with great



energy, and in utter disregard of all Mr. Perker's admonitory



winkings and frownings―



'My wishing to wait upon you, for such a purpose as this, sir,



appears, I have no doubt, to a gentleman who sees so much of



these matters as you must necessarily do, a very extraordinary



circumstance.'



The Serjeant tried to look gravely at the fire, but the smile came



back again.



'Gentlemen of your profession, sir,' continued Mr. Pickwick,



'see the worst side of human nature. All its disputes, all its ill-will



and bad blood, rise up before you. You know from your experience



of juries (I mean no disparagement to you, or them) how much



depends upon effect; and you are apt to attribute to others, a desire to use, for purposes of deception and self-interest, the very



instruments which you, in pure honesty and honour of purpose,



and with a laudable desire to do your utmost for your client, know



the temper and worth of so well, from constantly employing them



yourselves. I really believe that to this circumstance may be



attributed the vulgar but very general notion of your being, as a



body, suspicious, distrustful, and over-cautious. Conscious as I am,



sir, of the disadvantage of making such a declaration to you, under



such circumstances, I have come here, because I wish you



distinctly to understand, as my friend Mr. Perker has said, that I



am innocent of the falsehood laid to my charge; and although I am



very well aware of the inestimable value of your assistance, sir, I



must beg to add, that unless you sincerely believe this, I would



rather be deprived of the aid of your talents than have the



advantage of them.'



Long before the close of this address, which we are bound to



say was of a very prosy character for Mr. Pickwick, the Serjeant



had relapsed into a state of abstraction. After some minutes,



however, during which he had reassumed his pen, he appeared to



be again aware of the presence of his clients; raising his head from



the paper, he said, rather snappishly―



'Who is with me in this case?'



'Mr. Phunky, Serjeant Snubbin,' replied the attorney.



'Phunky―Phunky,' said the Serjeant, 'I never heard the name



before. He must be a very young man.'



'Yes, he is a very young man,' replied the attorney. 'He was only



called the other day. Let me see―he has not been at the Bar eight



years yet.'



'Ah, I thought not,' said the Serjeant, in that sort of pitying tone in which ordinary folks would speak of a very helpless little child.



'Mr. Mallard, send round to Mr.―Mr.―'



'Phunky's―Holborn Court, Gray's Inn,' interposed Perker.



(Holborn Court, by the bye, is South Square now.) 'Mr. Phunky,



and say I should be glad if he'd step here, a moment.'



Mr. Mallard departed to execute his commission; and Serjeant



Snubbin relapsed into abstraction until Mr. Phunky himself was



introduced.



Although an infant barrister, he was a full-grown man. He had a



very nervous manner, and a painfulhesitation in his speech; it did



not appear to be a natural defect, but seemed rather the result of



timidity, arising from the consciousness of being 'kept down' by



want of means, or interest, or connection, or impudence, as the



case might be. He was overawed by the Serjeant, and profoundly



courteous to the attorney.



'I have not had the pleasure of seeing you before, Mr. Phunky,'



said Serjeant Snubbin, with haughty condescension.



Mr. Phunky bowed. He had had the pleasure of seeing the



Serjeant, and of envying him too, with all a poor man's envy, for



eight years and a quarter.



'You are with me in this case, I understand?' said the Serjeant.



If Mr. Phunky had been a rich man, he would have instantly



sent for his clerk to remind him; if he had been a wise one, he



would have applied his forefinger to his forehead, and



endeavoured to recollect, whether, in the multiplicity of his



engagements, he had undertaken this one or not; but as he was



neither rich nor wise (in this sense, at all events) he turned red,



and bowed.



'Have you read the papers, Mr. Phunky?' inquired the Serjeant. Here again, Mr. Phunky should have professed to have



forgotten all about the merits of the case; but as he had read such



papers as had been laid before him in the course of the action, and



had thought of nothing else, waking or sleeping, throughout the



two months during which he had been retained as Mr. Serjeant



Snubbin's junior, he turned a deeper red and bowed again.



'This is Mr. Pickwick,' said the Serjeant, waving his pen in the



direction in which that gentleman was standing.



Mr. Phunky bowed to Mr. Pickwick, with a reverence which a



first client must ever awaken; and again inclined his head towards



his leader.



'Perhaps you will take Mr. Pickwick away,' said the Serjeant,



'and―and―and―hear anything Mr. Pickwick may wish to



communicate. We shall have a consultation, of course.' With that



hint that he had been interrupted quite long enough, Mr. Serjeant



Snubbin, who had been gradually growing more and more



abstracted, applied his glass to his eyes for an instant, bowed



slightly round, and was once more deeply immersed in the case



before him, which arose out of an interminable lawsuit, originating



in the act of an individual, deceased a century or so ago, who had



stopped up a pathway leading from some place which nobody ever



came from, to some other place which nobody ever went to.



Mr. Phunky would not hear of passing through any door until



Mr. Pickwick and his solicitor had passed through before him, so it



was some time before they got into the Square; and when they did



reach it, they walked up and down, and held a long conference,



the result of which was, that it was a very difficult matter to say



how the verdict would go; that nobody could presume to calculate



on the issue of an action; that it was very lucky they had prevented the other party from getting Serjeant Snubbin; and other topics of



doubt and consolation, common in such a position of affairs.



Mr. Weller was then roused by his master from a sweet sleep of



an hour's duration; and, bidding adieu to Lowten, they returned to



the city.

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