This famous firm of city attornies has become a bye-word in legal history—being considered the most notorious of practitioners for sharp, underhand, scheming practices. Boz was always vehement against the abuses of the law, but his generous ardour sometimes led him to exaggerated and wholesale statements that were scarcely well founded. This is found in some degree even in the sweeping attacks in Bleak House. But he was so vivid, so persuasive, in his pictures, that there was no appeal.

The unreasoning fury of Mr. Pickwick is specially shown in the case of Jingle, whom he pursued with an animosity that was almost frantic. One would think it was some public enemy he was hunting down for the public good. Poor Jingle had really done nothing so monstrous, after all. He had “chaffed” Dr. Slammer, “run off” with the spinster aunt—nothing so uncommon in those days—had been consigned to the Fleet for non-payment of his debts, and there showed penitence and other signs of a good heart. His one serious offence was passing himself off as a naval officer, and under an assumed name. But he had crossed Mr. Pickwick—had ridiculed him—had contemptuously sent a message to “Tuppy.” When he dared to play a practical joke on his persecutor, his infamy passed beyond bounds. Here was the key to Mr. Pickwick’s nature—any lack of homage or respect was an offence against morality. So with Dodson and Fogg. He had settled in his mind that a condescending visit to these gentlemen, with a little explanation and remonstrance would completely disarm them. His fury on his advances being rejected was extraordinary.

Here Boz shows, as he ever does, his profound and most logical treatment of human character. He never goes astray, being guided by a happy and true instinct. Mr. Pickwick had grown to be the most inflated of men. Flattered and followed—submitted to with the greatest deference—ordering people about—doing what he pleased—he could not stand the slightest opposition. No one was to contradict—no one to question even his stockings—speckled or others. Even when he was clearly wrong, it was an affront to hint at it. He had much in common with that great man, Mr. Gladstone, who was the political Pickwick of his time. He was overbearing and arrogant and unrestrained, and I am afraid vindictive. Dodson and Fogg were associated with the great mortification of his life. He could not forgive them—the very sight of them roused his hatred, and the having to pay them ransom stung him to fury. All which is most natural and yet unexpected.

The popular and genial Sir Frank Lockwood was almost the first to put forward a plea in abatement of prejudice for the firm. He showed that they were not much below the usual type of middle-class solicitors. What they did was in the ordinary course. With Mr. Pickwick they were most forbearing, and even indulgent. There was one rather doubtful passage, but even here he offers extenuation. This was their treatment of poor Ramsey, which, at first sight, seems very bad indeed.

‘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 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 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 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 goodnaturedly 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.’

Sir F. Lockwood, by the way, offers one of the most amusing proofs conceivable, of the convincing power of “Pickwick,” which is constantly taking us out of the world of fiction, into that of the daily living life. He speaks of the cruel trick played upon the unfortunate Ramsey, who came to pay his bill of costs, and was told that these were out of date, had been swelled by subsequent proceedings. An affidavit had been sworn—which, after he left the house, Wicks, the clerk, was sent off to swear—Then, Sir Frank, adds: “After all, this is merely given as the statement of Wicks—on whose testimony not much reliance can be placed.” As though Wicks were some living witness, “erect upon two legs,” whom he had been examining in Court!

It must, however, be recollected that this was an exparte story. Wicks, as Sir F. Lockwood hints, may have coloured it up, to amuse his brethren. The truth is these poor helpless debtors, who fall into the hands of legal “sharks” and money-lenders, have their tricks also. They will often “do” those they employ if they can. And further, let this be considered. Before Ramsey paid his visit the affidavit had been prepared, and was actually in Fogg’s pocket. Such affidavit would not be allowed for in the costs unless necessary to the case, so that Fogg’s statement that it had been filed was very near the truth. Perker himself was playing the same game of hide and seek with another unfortunate—one Watty—who was trying to see him, and learn something about his case, but was always put off with the excuse or falsehood, that Perker was out, though he was within. But then, “Perker was an honourable man.”

Boz lets us know, through Sam, how the case reached Dodson and Fogg. He speaks of “the kind generous people o’ the perfession ’as sets their clerks to work to find out little disputes among their neighbours and acquaintances as wants settlin’ by means of law suits.” This system, however, cannot be checked, and “the speculative attorney” even in our time still flourishes.

It was really not a question whether Mr. Pickwick would “indict them for a conspiracy,” because they acted as solicitors against him, but whether they would bring an action against him on their own account. All through, Mr. Pickwick’s behaviour to them had been outrageous. He chose to assume, quite gratuitously that it was they—not Mrs. Bardell—who got up the case; that they had worked on her for their own nefarious ends. Nothing could be more absurd. The landlady was eager enough to protect her own interests—her female friends worked on her, and the loss of so valuable a lodger, which the incident must have entailed, inflamed her more. We can see from Sam’s interview with her that she was at last, though at first reluctant, determined to have her rights. But Mr. Pickwick acting on this assumption addressed the firm, from the first to the last in the most scurrilous language. He called them “robbers, swindlers,—a brace of pettifogging scoundrels!” Shocking and ungentlemanly terms, and what is worse, actionable. Yet the pair received this abuse with infinite good temper and restraint, merely securing a witness who should listen, and threatening the speaker with legal penalties.

And why did they not take this course? Well, they had to suspend proceedings until Mrs. Bardell’s action was settled, when on receiving their costs they were desirous to part in good humour. But Mr. Pickwick was so furious at being invited to shake hands with them, that he again broke out with coarse abuse, “Robbers!” “Robbers!” calling it after them down the stairs. Why did they not take action on this? Perhaps they were afraid; as Mr. Pickwick had shewn himself such a doughty and unyielding fighter—going to prison rather than pay. Perhaps they thought he might get the better of them again.

We have very little evidence as to what was the scale of fees in use in these days. They were of course far lower than they are now, after allowances even for the lower cost of living. To-day, the fees to Counsel alone would have absorbed considerably more than Dodson and Fogg’s whole bill of costs. A nice point is, could Mr. Pickwick’s irregular interview with Serjeant Snubbin be considered something in the way of a consultation? Here were Counsel, Solicitor and Client: the Serjeant gave up a portion of his valuable time and, further, the junior counsel was summoned specially from his chambers to supply his “advice and opinion.” Mr. Pickwick ought surely to have to pay for his whim. And the bill of costs that these “sharks” of attornies sent in! It was astonishingly moderate. For writ, service of subpoenas, hunting up evidence, consultation, fees to counsel, fees for the day, retainers, etc.,—the sum of £120 was all that was asked.

Imagine Messrs. Lewis and Lewis sending in such a demand at the end of a trial which it had taken them nearly a year to get ready. In our time it could hardly be done under £1,000. Perker, by the way, told his client that on payment of the costs both of Plaintiff and Defendent, into the hands of “these sharks” he would get his release. With much indulgence—the attornies—allowed him to leave the prison on his bare undertaking to pay. And it is not clear why he should pay his own costs to them, and not to Perker. And they were not paid for sometime. Mr. Pickwick’s own costs must have been small. He had no witnesses. Perker would not have made a hand of him, and I fancy he would have got off for ninety pounds, or a hundred pounds. There was, however, the fees of the Special Jury, so he would have to pay, say, £220.