Percy Fitzgerald - Bardell v. Pickwick

We should note, however, Mr. Pickwick’s lack of caution. He came in the very next day, having apparently made no enquiries as to the landlady. Had he done so, he would have learned of the drunken exciseman who met his death by being knocked on the head with a quart pot. He might have heard of the friends, Cluppins, Raddle, etc., who seemed to have been charwomen or something of the sort; also that there was a sort of working man as a fellow lodger. Above all, that there was no servant in the house. All which boded ill, and made it likely that Mr. Pickwick would be the easy victim of some crafty scheme.

All went well until the unluckly morning in July, 1827, when Mr. Pickwick’s friends, coming to pay a morning call, and entering unexpectedly, surprised Mr. Pickwick with his landlady fainting in his arms in an hysterical condition. This was a very awkward business. The delinquent, however, did not at once grasp the situation, and could not “make head or tail of it, or what the lady meant.” His friends, however, had their doubts:

‘What is the matter?’ said the three tongue-tied Pickwickians.

‘I don’t know,’ replied Mr. Pickwick, pettishly. ‘Now, help me, lead this woman down stairs.’

‘Oh, I am better now,’ said Mrs. Bardell, faintly.

‘Let me lead you downstairs,’ said the ever gallant Mr. Tupman.

‘Thank you, sir – thank you?’ exclaimed Mrs. Bardell hysterically. And downstairs she was led accordingly, accompanied by her affectionate son.

‘I cannot conceive – ’ said Mr. Pickwick, when his friend returned – ‘I cannot conceive what has been the matter with that woman. I had merely announced to her my intention of keeping a man servant, when she fell into the extraordinary paroxysm in which you found her. Very extraordinary thing.’

‘Very,’ said his three friends.

‘Placed me in such an extremely awkward situation,’ continued Mr. Pickwick.

‘Very,’ was the reply of his followers, as they coughed slightly, and looked dubiously at each other.

This behaviour was not lost upon Mr. Pickwick. He remarked their incredulity. They evidently suspected him.

It may be reasonably supposed that Mr. Pickwick had not been very discreet, or sufficiently cautious in his general behaviour to his landlady. As we know, he was rather too effusive in his relations with the fair sex. One of his weaknesses was kissing . He would kiss everybody who was young or good-looking. His maxim was “Kiss early and kiss often.” Who can forget his systematic method of greeting the engaging Arabella? “He (1) took off his spectacles, (2) in great haste, and (3) taking both the young lady’s hands in his (4) kissed her (5) a great many times (6) perhaps a greater number of times than was absolutely necessary.” Old rogue! I have little doubt that on his return home from his tours he encircled the buxom figure of Mrs. Bardell – all of course in his own paternal and privileged way.

It should be borne in mind also that Mr. Pickwick was almost invariably drawn into his more serious scrapes and embarrassments by this devotion to the sex. The night in the boarding school garden – the affair with the spinster lady – his interview with Arabella from the top of the wall – his devotion to Mrs. Pott and Mrs. Dowler – and much more that we do not hear of, show that he was a gallant elderly gentleman. Oh, he was a “sly dog, he was.”

There is a curious burst of Mr. Pickwick’s which seems to hint at a sort of tender appreciation on his side. When the notice of trial was sent to him, in his first vehemence, he broke out that Mrs. Bardell had nothing to do with the business, “ She hadn’t the heart to do it .” Mr. Pickwick could not speak with this certainty, unless he knew the lady’s feelings pretty well. Why hadn’t she the heart to do it? Because she was sincerely attached to him and his interests and was “a dear creature.” This, however, was a fond delusion of the worthy gentleman’s. Persons of her class are not quite so disinterested as they appear to be, especially if they have to interpret the various paternal and comforting advances made to them by their well to do lodgers.

There is another factor which can hardly be left out, when considering Mr. Pickwick’s responsibility – that is, his too frequent indulgence in liquor, and the insufficiency of his head to stand its influence. Now this was a very important day for him, the first time he was to set up a man servant. He had to break it to his landlady, who would naturally resent the change. He may have been priming himself with some of those perpetual glasses of brandy and water to which he was addicted, and who knows but that, in his ardour to propitiate, he may have gone a little too far? This fact too, of the introducing a man servant into her establishment, Mrs. Bardell may have indistinctly associated with a general change in his life. If she were to become Mrs. Pickwick her duties might be naturally expected to devolve on a male assistant.

Next morning he and his friends quitted London on their travels to Eatanswill in pursuit of adventure. He airily dismissed the matter. We may wonder whether he made any remonstrance to his landlady before his departure. Probably he did not, fancying that she had been merely in a slight fit of the “tantrums.”

At Bury, however, after the boarding-school adventure, he was to be painfully awakened. He was sitting with his friends after dinner at the “Angel,” in his happiest mood. Winkle had related his quarrel with Pott in re Mrs. Pott, in a humorous fashion when one of the most delightful of humorous scenes followed.

Mr. Pickwick was proceeding with his scathing rebuke, when Sam enters with a letter.

‘I don’t know this hand,’ said Mr. Pickwick, opening the letter. ‘Mercy on us! what’s this? It must be a jest; it – it – can’t be true.’

‘What’s the matter?’ was the general inquiry.

‘Nobody dead, is there?’ said Wardle, alarmed at the horror in Mr. Pickwick’s countenance.

Mr. Pickwick made no reply, but, pushing the letter across the table, and desiring Mr. Tupman to read it aloud, fell back in his chair with a look of vacant astonishment quite alarming to behold.

Mr. Tupman, with a trembling voice, read the letter, of which the following is a copy: —

Sir,

Having been instructed by Mrs. Martha Bardell to commence an action against you for a breach of promise of marriage, for which the plaintiff lays her damages at fifteen hundred pounds, we beg to inform you that a writ has been issued against you in this suit in the Court of Common Pleas; and request to know, by return of post, the name of your attorney in London, who will accept service thereof.

Mr. Samuel Pickwick.’

So Mr. Pickwick, the general mentor, the philosopher and friend – the man of high moral tone, “born to set the world aright” – the general lecturer of his “followers,” was now in for an action at law of the most awkward and unpleasant kind. To be philandering with one’s landlady! rather low form this. But what would they say down at Manor Farm? How Isabella Wardle and her sister – and all the girls – would laugh! And the spinster aunt — she would enjoy it! But there was no help for it. It must be faced.

Naturally Mr. Pickwick felt uncomfortable, and his first idea was to arrange the matter. This was a sensible course, and he ought at once to have put the matter into the hands of his friend Perker, with full powers to treat. But no. Mr. Pickwick’s vanity and indiscretion made him meddle in the business behind his solicitor’s back, as it where, and with damaging results to himself – a warning to all such amateurs. It must be said that Dodson and Fogg’s behaviour at the extraordinary visit which he paid them was marked by a certain propriety. Mr. Pickwick insisted on knowing what were the grounds of action – that is, the details of the evidence against him – in short, their case. They, very correctly, refused to tell him. “The case may be false or it may be true – it may be credible it may be incredible.” But all the same it was a strong case. This was as much as they could tell. Mr. Pickwick could only urge that if “it were so, he was a most unfortunate man,” on which Dodson promptly – “I hope you are, sir, I trust you may be, sir. If you are really innocent, you are more unfortunate than I had believed any man could possibly be.”