Overwhelmed by the challenge of memorizing the minutely detailed information required for the New York Bar, I no longer have the leisure to read Dickens at the expense of substantive law. But I squeeze in the Pickwick Papers on the elliptical cross-trainer and have found more discouragement for a career in the law. For instance, here's how Dickens describes the Temple, London:

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 (ch.XXXI).

In chapter XXXIV Mrs. Bardell's suit against Pickwick for breach of promise of marriage is finally heard. Going into court Pickwick's solicitor hopes that the foreman of the jury has had a good breakfast, explaining to his client, "Discontented or hungry jurymen ... always find for the plaintiff." That's just a low expectation; the presentation of the plaintiff's case goes well beyond this cynicism. She enters the court "in a drooping state" on the arms of her friends, and at the appearance of her young son, we read:

Mrs. Bardell started; suddenly recollecting herself, she kissed him in a frantic manner; then relapsing into a state of hysterical imbecility, the good lady requested to be informed where she was. In reply to this, Mrs. Cluppins and Mrs. Sanders turned their heads away and wept, while Messrs. Dodson and Fogg [her solicitors] intreated the plaintiff to compose herself. Serjeant Buzfuz [her barrister] rubbed his eyes very hard with a large white handkerchief, and gave an appealing look towards the jury, while the judge was visibly affected, and several of the beholders tried to cough down their emotions.

Even Pickwick's solicitor has to admit: "Very good notion that, indeed.... Capital fellows those Dodson and Fogg; excellent ideas of effect."

The theatrics continue in Buzfuz's opening remarks, in which he describes Mrs. Bardell as

a widow; yes, gentlemen, a widow. The late Mr. Bardell, after enjoying, for many years, the esteem and confidence of his sovereign, as one of the guardians of his royal revenues, glided almost imperceptibly from the world, to seek elsewhere for that repose and peace which a custom-house can never afford.

The narrator then continues: "At this pathetic description of the decease of Mr. Bardell, who had been knocked on the head with a quart-pot in a public-house cellar, the learned serjeant's voice faltered, and he proceeded with emotion...."

Buzfuz attempts to incriminate Pickwick with two notes he wrote to Mrs. Bardell, warning the jury that the notes

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:--"Garraway's, twelve o'clock. Dear Mrs. B.--Chops and Tomata sauce. Yours, Pickwick." Gentlemen, what does this mean? Chops and Tomata sauce! Yours, Pickwick! Chops! Gracious heavens! and Tomata sauce! Gentlemen, is the happiness of a sensitive and confiding female to be trifled away, by such shallow artifices as these?

And what of the judge whom we might expect to rein in this performance that hints at so much without stating anything? We've already read: