Revisiting Pickwick via Percy Fitzgerald’s Bardell v. Pickwick
While Charles Dickens might seem almost as popular now as in his mid-Victorian heyday, the curious thing is that the works of his that are most enjoyed have changed drastically. A case in point is his debut novel, The Pickwick Papers (1836-37). This was an immediate publishing sensation for the young writer: “by the time the book was completed it was clear that it had completely outdistanced the previous successes of Scott. Pickwick was to remain the most continuously popular of all Dickens’ books to the readers of his time, and later on there were moments when its persistent appeal seemed to him something of a liability” (Stephen Wall, “Introduction”, The Dickens Heritage, 1970, p. 26). Dickens’ later works, particularly from Bleak House (1852-53) onwards, were considered “forced and somber compared with the fun of his earlier ones” (Ibid p. 30)
The comparative popularity of Dickens’ different works has been almost inverted. goodreads.com provides a revealing snapshot of what is read and what is not. On that site, Pickwick has received 26,255 ratings, while Bleak House has received 106,094, David Copperfield 210,880, Great Expectations 704,848 and A Tale of Two Cities a whopping 859,593 (all figures as of 12 November 2021). Pickwick is not the least read Dickens novel (that is 1841’s Barnaby Rudge – 9,735 ratings) but it is at the lower end, and that is a fact that would have greatly surprised Dickens and his contemporary readers.
My experience of reading Pickwick was underwhelming when I did it several years ago. I have never returned to it since, partly because, unlike other Dickens novels, there is rarely a stimulus to. It is never adapted on screen, it does not turn up in contemporary works, unlike Two Cities, which was referenced several times in Christopher Nolan’s opus The Dark Night Rises, nor is it continuously brought up as a touch point in discussing influences on contemporary TV serials, as Bleak House is (like here and here regarding The Wire). But I happened to see a copy of Bardell v. Pickwick: A Dickens of a Case (originally published in 1902; read by me in the Hesperus Press 2012 edition) by Percy Fitzgerald in a book shop and thought maybe here was my way in. Here was the meta text that would give me an understanding of how this once beloved book by an author I admire greatly (but equivocally) had entranced a generation and alienated posterity. I might not quite have the stomach right now to retread the whole 800 pages of Pickwick, but I could have a go at the 120 pages of Pickwick v. Bardell.
Bardell v. Pickwick includes an introduction by Baroness Hale of Richmond. This is worth reading before the main text as it gives a good overview of the legal issues involved, pointing out that they are no longer part of the law and so will be unfamiliar to the reader, and also provides the excerpt from Pickwick where the proposal did or did not take place, a very short scene in the novel. This is all the introduction needed. You definitely don’t have to have read Pickwick to appreciate this book. The court case was one of the most popular sections of the novel, and one of Dickens’ most popular readings when he went out on his famous reading tours much later in his career. He was able to remove it from the novel’s larger context in these readings partly because his audience were familiar with the novel in any case, but also because the sub-plot stands alone easily without the scaffolding of the novel.
Fitzgerald was a lawyer, and also a friend and admirer of Dickens. His book, published when he was an old man and Dickens was long dead, purports to be a commentary on the titular legal case. Fitzgerald is playing a Pickwickian version of “The Game” beloved of Sherlockians, though he is not a pure exponent, for at times he switches from treating it as a real court case to extolling the genius of the writer who could have created such comic delights. One thing is sure, Fitzgerald loved this book, and this makes him a good representative of Dickens’ contemporaries, for whom literary comic genius reached its height in Pickwick.
The case of Bardell v. Pickwick forms a fairly small part of Pickwick, in terms of space. It is one of breach of promise. Mr. Pickwick speaks to his landlady about his proposition to hire a servant; he does it in such a way that she thinks he is proposing marriage. That miscommunication is at the heart of the comedy of the “proposal” scene. The humour partially lies in the completely virginal and asexual persona that Dickens builds around Pickwick, a middle-aged bachelor, and the absurdity that he could be propositioning Ms Bardell or anybody else.
Pickwick does not want to marry Ms Bardell and when she realises this she decides, or others convince her, to take a civil case against him. This case is the subject of Fitzgerald’s commentary. He comments both on the legal matters relevant to the case and on the humour it provides. The prosecuting council, Serjeant Buzfuz, describes amusingly how the poor innocent widow Bardell offers lodgings for single gentleman, in response to which:
[A] being, erect upon two legs, and bearing all the outward semblance of a man, and not of a monster, knocked at the door of Mrs. Bardell’s house. He inquired within—he took the lodgings; and on the very next day he entered into possession of them. This man was Pickwick—Pickwick, the defendant.’
The Pickwick Papers, Ch. XXXIV
Serjeant Buzfuz’s imputation is that Pickwick, appearance notwithstanding, is a monster, and his grandstanding is approvingly analysed by Fitzgerald as bearing a close resemblance to real counsel’s speeches.
Pickwick’s guilt is sealed by Buzfuz’s masterly analysis of certain correspondence he sent to Mrs Bardell while her lodger, “The Incriminating Letters”, as Fitzgerald’s chapter title calls them:
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 artifices as these?
The next has no date whatever, which is in itself suspicious. “Dear Mrs. B., I shall not be at home till to-morrow. Slow coach.” And then follows this very remarkable expression. “Don’t trouble yourself about the warming-pan.” The warming-pan! Why, gentlemen, who does trouble himself about a warming-pan? When was the peace of mind of man or woman broken or disturbed by a warming-pan, which is in itself a harmless, a useful, and I will add, gentlemen, a comforting article of domestic furniture?
The Pickwick Papers, Ch. XXXIV
All very suspicious, and it is no surprise when Pickwick is found guilty of breach of promise. Fitzgerald gives examples demonstrating how closely the processes involved in the trial echo those of real trials, such as the notorious Norton v. Lord Melbourne case, which had involved the (over)interpretation of similarly banal missives.
Fitzgerald also provides an amusingly against the grain reading of Pickwick’s character, denouncing him as “overbearing and arrogant and unrestrained and, I am afraid, vindictive” (p. 103) and supports this well with reference to the text. Not only that, he notes of Pickwick that “he was rather too effusive in his relations with the weaker sex. One of his great weaknesses was kissing. He would kiss everybody who was young or good-looking.” (p. 9) Even Fitzgerald’s caveat that he does all this “in his own paternal or privileged way” may make the matter all the more serious, given the shift in connotation of paternal and privileged.
Though Bardell v. Pickwick is an enjoyable read that gives one an appreciation for the young Dickens’ wit and eye for detail, one can only conclude that The Pickwick Papers is unredeemable to the contemporary reader because Pickwick is. The purity and innocence of this middle-aged man is unconvincing and his habit of kissing everybody would make him difficult to represent in a contemporary context without serious caveats. Less likely to be tried for breach of promise than for sexual assault, he is no less likely to be found guilty and, this time, would be denied his happy ending.
The Victorian Sage 
