“A lawyer,” says an old comedy which I once read at the British Museum,
“is an odd sort of fruit--first rotten--then green--and then ripe.”
There is too much of truth in the homely figure. The first years of a
young barrister are spent, or rather worn out, in anxious leisure. His
talents rust, his temper is injured, his little patrimony wastes away,
and not an attorney shows a sign of remorse. He endures term after term,
and circuit after circuit, that greatest of all evils--a rank above his
means of supporting it. He drives round the country in a post-chaise,
and marvels what Johnson found so exhilarating in its motion--that is,
if he paid for it himself. He eats venison, and drinks claret; but he
loses the flavour of both when he reflects that his wife (for the fool
is married, and married for love too!) has perhaps just dined for the
third time on a cold neck of mutton, and has not tasted wine since their
last party--an occurrence beyond even legal memory. He leaves the
festive board early, and takes a solitary walk--returns to his lodgings
in the twilight, and sees on his table a large white rectangular body,
which for a moment he supposes may be a brief--alas! it is only a
napkin. He is vexed, and rings to have it removed, when up comes his
clerk, who is drunk and insolent: he is about to kick him down stairs,
but stays his foot on recollecting the arrears of the fellow’s wages;
and contents himself with wondering where the fellow finds the means of
such extravagance.--Then in court many are the vexations of the
briefless.--The attorney is a cruel person to them--as cruel as a rich
coxcomb in a ball-room, who delights in exciting hopes only to
disappoint them. Indeed I have often thought the communications between
the solicitors and the bar have no slight resemblance to the flirtation
between the sexes. Barristers, like ladies, must wait to be chosen. The
slightest overture would be equally fatal to one gown as the other. The
gentlemen of the bar sit round the table in dignified composure,
thinking just as little of briefs as a young lady of marriage. An
attorney enters--not an eye moves; but somehow or other, the fact is
known to all. Calmly he draws from his pocket a _brief_: practice
enables us to see at a glance that the tormentor has left a blank for
the name of his counsel. He looks around the circle as if to choose his
man; you cannot doubt but his eye rests on you; he writes a name, but
you are too far off to read it, though you know every name on your
circuit upside down. Now he counts out the fee, and wraps it up with
slow and provoking formality. At length all being prepared, he looks
towards you to catch (as you suppose) your eye. You nod, and the brief
comes flying; you pick it up, and find on it the name of a man three
years your junior, who is sitting next you: you curse the attorney’s
impudence, and ask yourself if he meant to insult you.--“Perhaps not,”
you say, “for the dog squints.”--I received my maiden brief in London.
How well do I recollect the minutest circumstances connected with that
case! The rap at the door! I am a connoisseur in raps--there is not a
dun in London who could deceive me: I know their tricks but too well;
they have no medium between the rap _servile_, and the rap _impudent_.
This was a cheerful touch; you felt that the operator knew he should
meet with a face of welcome. My clerk, who is not much under the
influence of sweet sounds, seemed absolutely inspired, and answered the
knock with astonishing velocity. I could hear from my inner room the
murmur of inquiry and answer; and though I could not distinguish a
word,--the tones confirmed my hopes;--I was not long suffered to
doubt--my client entered, and the roll of pure white paper tied round
with the brilliant red tape, met my eye. He inquired respectfully, and
with an appearance of anxiety, which marked him to my mind for a perfect
Chesterfield, if I was already retained in ---- _v._ ----? The rogue
knew well enough that I had never had a retainer in my life. I took a
moment to consider; after making him repeat the name of his case, I
gravely assured him I was at perfect liberty to receive his brief. He
then laid the papers and my fee upon the table; asked me if the time
appointed for a consultation with the two gentlemen who were “with me”
would be convenient; and finding that the state of my engagements would
allow me to attend, made his bow and departed. That fee was sacred, and
I put it to no vulgar use. Many years have now elapsed since that case
was disposed of, and yet how fresh does it live in my memory! how
perfectly do I recollect every authority to which he referred! how I
read and re-read the leading cases that bore upon the question to be
argued! One case I so _bethumbed_ that the volume has opened at it ever
since, as inevitably as the prayer-book of a lady’s maid proffers the
service of matrimony. My brief related to an argument before the judges
of the King’s Bench, and the place of consultation was Ayles’s
coffee-house, adjoining Westminster-hall. There was I before the clock
had finished striking the hour; my brief I knew by heart. I had raised
an army of objections to the points for which we were to contend, and
had logically slain every one of them. I went prepared to discuss the
question thoroughly; and I generously determined to give my leaders the
benefit of my cogitations--though not without a slight struggle at the
thought of how much reputation I should lose by my magnanimity. I had
plenty of time to think of these things, for my leaders were engaged in
court, and the attorney and I had the room to ourselves. After we had
been waiting about an hour, the door flew open, and in strode one of my
leaders, the second in command, less in haste (as it appeared to me) to
meet his appointment, than to escape from the atmosphere of clients in
which he had been just enveloped, during his passage from the
court.--Having shaken off his tormentors, Mr. ---- walked up to the
fire--said it was cold--nodded kindly to me--and had just asked what had
been the last night’s division in the house--when the powdered head of
an usher was protruded through the half open door to announce that
“Jones and Williams was called on.” Down went the poker, and away flew
---- with streaming robes, leaving me to meditate on the loss which the
case would sustain for want of his assistance at the expected
discussion. Having waited some further space, I heard a rustling of
silks, and the great ----, our commander in chief, sailed into the room.
As he did not run foul of me, I think it possible I may not have been
invisible to him; but he furnished me with no other evidence of the
fact. He simply directed the attorney to provide certain additional
affidavits, tacked about and sailed away. And thus ended the first
consultation. I consoled myself with the thought that I had all my
materials for myself, and that from having had so much more time for
considering the subject than the others, I must infallibly make the best
speech of the three. At length the fatal day came. I never shall forget
the thrill with which I heard ---- open the case, and felt how soon it
would be my turn to speak. O, how I did pray for a long speech! I lost
all feeling of rivalry; and would gladly have given him every thing that
I intended to use myself, only to defer the dreaded moment for one
half-hour. His speech was frightfully short, yet, short as it was, it
made sad havoc with my stock of matter. The next speaker’s was even more
concise, and yet my little stock suffered again severely. I then found
how experience will stand in the place of study. These men could not,
from the multiplicity of their engagements, have spent a tithe of the
time upon the case which I had done: and yet they had seen much which
had escaped my research. At length my turn came. I was sitting among the
back rows in the old court of King’s Bench. It was on the first day of
Michaelmas term, and late in the evening. A sort of “darkness visible”
had been produced by the aid of a few candles dispersed here and there.
I arose, but I was not perceived by the judges, who had turned together
to consult, supposing the argument finished. B---- was the first to see
me, and I received from him a nod of kindness and encouragement which I
hope I shall never forget. The court was crowded, for it was a question
of some interest; it was a dreadful moment--the ushers stilled the
audience into awful silence. I began, and at the sound of an unknown
voice, every wig of the white inclined plane, at the upper end of which
I was standing, turned round; and in an instant I had the eyes of
seventy “learned friends” looking me full in the face! It is hardly to
be conceived by those who have not gone through the ordeal, how terrific
is this mute attention to the object of it. How grateful should I have
been for any thing which would have relieved me from its oppressive
weight--a buzz, a scraping of the shoes, or a fit of coughing, would
have put me under infinite obligations to the kind disturber. What I
said I know not; I knew not then; it is the only part of the transaction
of which I am ignorant; it was “a phantasma, or hideous dream.” They
told me, however, to my great surprise, that I spoke in a loud voice;
used violent gesture, and as I went along seemed to shake off my
trepidation. Whether I made a long speech or a short one I cannot tell;
for I had no power of measuring time. All I know is, that I should have
made a much longer one, had I not felt my ideas, like Bob Acre’s
courage, oozing out of my fingers’ ends. The court decided against us,
erroneously as I of course thought, for the young advocate is always on
the right side. The next morning I got up early to look at the
newspapers, which I expected to see full of our case. In an obscure
corner, and in a small type, I found a few words given as the speeches
of my leaders: and I also read that “Mr. ---- followed on the same
side.”