第169章
WHICH IS ALL ABOUT THE LAW, AND SUNDRY GREAT AUTHORITIESLEARNED THEREIN
S CATTERED about, in various holes and corners of the Temple, are certain dark and dirty chambers, in and out of which, all the morning in Vacation, and half the evening too in Term time, there may be seen constantly hurrying with bundles of papers under their arms, and protruding from their pockets, an almost uninterrupted succession of Lawyers'
Clerks.There are several grades of Lawyers' Clerks.There is the Articled Clerk, who has paid a premium, and is an attorney in perspective, who runs a tailor's bill, receives invitations to parties, knows a family in Gower Street, and another in Tavistock Square: who goes out of town every Long Vacation to see his father, who keeps live horses innumerable; and who is, in short, the very aristocrat of clerks.There is the salaried clerk--out of door, or in door, as the case may be--who devotes the major part of his thirty shillings a week to his personal pleasure and adornment, repairs half-price to the Adelphi Theatre at least three times a week, dissipates majestically at the cider cellars afterwards, and is a dirty caricature of the fashion which expired six months ago.There is the middle-aged copying clerk, with a large family, who is always shabby, and often drunk.And there are the office lads in their first surtouts, who feel a befitting contempt for boys at day-schools: club as they go home at night, for saveloys and porter: and think there's nothing like "life." There are varieties of the genus, too numerous to recapitulate, but however numerous they may be, they are all to be seen, at certain regulated business hours, hurrying to and from the places we have just mentioned.
These sequestered nooks are the public offices of the legal profession, where writs are issued, judgments signed, declarations filed, and numerous other ingenious machines put in motion for the torture and torment of His Majesty's liege subjects, and the comfort and emolument of the practitioners of the law.They are, for the most part, low-roofed, mouldy rooms, where innumerable rolls of parchment, which have been perspiring in secret for the last century, send forth an agreeable odour, which is mingled by day with the scent of the dry rot, and by night with the various exhalations which arise from damp cloaks, festering umbrellas, and the coarsest tallow candles.
About half-past seven o'clock in the evening, some ten days or a fortnight after Mr.Pickwick and his friends returned to London, there hurried into one of these offices, an individual in a brown coat and brass buttons, whose long hair was scrupulously twisted round the rim of his napless hat, and whose soiled drab trousers were so tightly strapped over his Blucher boots, that his knees threatened every moment to start from their concealment.
He produced from his coat pockets a long and narrow strip of parchment, on which the presiding functionary impressed an illegible black stamp.
He then drew forth four scraps of paper, of similar dimensions, each containing a printed copy of the strip of parchment with blanks for a name; and having filled up the blanks, put all the five documents in his pocket, and hurried away.
The man in the brown coat, with the cabalistic documents in his pocket, was no other than our old acquaintance Mr.Jackson, of the house of Dodson and Fogg, Freeman's Court, Cornhill.Instead of returning to the office from whence he came, however, he bent his steps direct to Sun Court, and walking straight into the George and Vulture, demanded to know whether one Mr.Pickwick was within.
"Call Mr.Pickwick's servant, Tom," said the barmaid of the George and Vulture.
"Don't trouble yourself," said Mr.Jackson, "I've come on business.
If you'll show me Mr.Pickwick's room I'll step up myself.""What name, sir?" said the waiter.
"Jackson," replied the clerk.
The waiter stepped up-stairs to announce Mr.Jackson; but Mr.Jackson saved him the trouble by following close at his heels, and walking into the apartment before he could articulate a syllable.
Mr.Pickwick had, that day, invited his three friends to dinner; they were all seated round the fire, drinking their wine, when Mr.Jackson presented himself, as above described.
"How de do, sir?" said Mr.Jackson, nodding to Mr.Pickwick.
That gentleman bowed, and looked somewhat surprised, for the physiognomy of Mr.Jackson dwelt not in his recollection.
"I have called from Dodson and Fogg's," said Mr.Jackson, in an explanatory tone.
Mr.Pickwick roused at the name."I refer you to my attorney, sir: Mr.
Perker, of Gray's Inn," said he."Waiter, show this gentleman out.""Beg your pardon, Mr.Pickwick," said Jackson, deliberately depositing his hat on the floor, and drawing from his pocket the strip of parchment.
"But personal service, by clerk or agent, in these cases, you know, Mr.
Pickwick--nothing like caution, sir, in all legal forms?"Here Mr.Jackson cast his eye on the parchment; and, resting his hands on the table, and looking round with a winning and persuasive smile, said:
"Now, come; don't let's have no words about such a little matter as this.
Which of you gentlemen's name's Snodgrass?"At this inquiry Mr.Snodgrass gave such a very undisguised and palpable start, that no further reply was needed.
"Ah! I thought so," said Mr.Jackson, more affably than before."I've got a little something to trouble you with, sir.""Me!" exclaimed Mr.Snodgrass.
"It's only a subpoena in Bardell and Pickwick on behalf of the plaintiff," replied Jackson, singling out one of the slips of paper, and producing a shilling from his waistcoat pocket."It'll come on, in the settens after Term; fourteenth of Febooary, we expect; we've marked it a special jury cause, and it's only ten down the paper.That's yours, Mr.
Snodgrass." As Jackson said this he presented the parchment before the eyes of Mr.Snodgrass, and slipped the paper and the shilling into his hand.