'I shall show you, gentlemen, that for two years, Pickwick continued to

reside constantly, and without interruption or intermission, at Mrs.

Bardell's house. I shall show you that Mrs. Bardell, during the whole

of that time, waited on him, attended to his comforts, cooked his

meals, looked out his linen for the washerwoman when it went

abroad, darned, aired, and prepared it for wear, when it came home,

and, in short, enjoyed his fullest trust and confidence. I shall show

you that, on many occasions, he gave halfpence, and on some

occasions even sixpences, to her little boy; and I shall prove to you, by

a witness whose testimony it will be impossible for my learned friend

to weaken or controvert, that on one occasion he patted the boy on the

head, and, after inquiring whether he had won any ‘ALLEY TORS’ or

‘

COMMONEYS’ lately (both of which I understand to be a particular

species of marbles much prized by the youth of this town), made use

of this remarkable expression, ‘How should you like to have another

father?’ I shall prove to you, gentlemen, that about a year ago,

Pickwick suddenly began to absent himself from home, during long

intervals, as if with the intention of gradually breaking off from my

client; but I shall show you also, that his resolution was not at that

time sufficiently strong, or that his better feelings conquered, if better

feelings he has, or that the charms and accomplishments of my client

prevailed against his unmanly intentions, by proving to you, that on

one occasion, when he returned from the country, he distinctly and in

terms, offered her marriage: previously, however, taking special care

that there would be no witness to their solemn contract; and I am in a

situation to prove to you, on the testimony of three of his own friends -

most unwilling witnesses, gentlemen - most unwilling witnesses - that

on that morning he was discovered by them holding the plaintiff in his

arms, and soothing her agitation by his caresses and endearments.'

A visible impression was produced upon the auditors by this part of

the learned Serjeant's address. Drawing forth two very small scraps of

paper, he proceeded - 'And now, gentlemen, but one word more. Two

letters have passed between these parties, letters which are admitted

to be in the handwriting of the defendant, and which speak volumes,

indeed. The letters, too, bespeak the character of the man. They are

not open, fervent, eloquent epistles, breathing nothing but the

language of affectionate attachment. They are covert, sly,

underhanded communications, but, fortunately, far more conclusive

than if couched in the most glowing language and the most poetic

imagery - letters that must be viewed with a cautious and suspicious

eye - letters that were evidently intended at the time, by Pickwick, to

mislead and delude any third parties into whose hands they might

fall. Let me read the first: ‘Garraways, twelve o'clock. Dear Mrs. B. -

Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, PICKWICK.’ Gentlemen, what does

this mean? Chops and tomato sauce. Yours, Pickwick! Chops!

Gracious heavens! and tomato sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of

a sensitive and confiding female to be trifled away, by such shallow

The Pickwick Papers