Chapter II: Part 2

Off to the court, a cause the criers call,
And echo answers from the neighbouring hall.
’Tis ours at last; and now shall law decide
How long possession must a title guide,--
If sixty years less one unlucky day
Might turn Giles Dobbin from his farm away;
Not that a soul disputes his present claim,
But what may be, is, as it were, the same:--
That is, if Giles to neighbour Gripe dispose
A field, and Gripe should by the bargain lose,--
Giles with delight his contract seeks to keep,
And Gripe a loop-hole from the net to creep:--
Nor hard the task; for error shines reveal’d,
Tho’ dark itself, from others not conceal’d.
But what in law is error? ask the wind,
Whence comes it? goes it? what it’s shape or kind?
Seek from the moon to know each mystic spot,
And judge what constitutes a legal blot.
’Tis something coin’d of ignorance and doubt,
Despis’d by sense, yet seldom found without;
A light, that glimmers thro’ some narrow screen,
Which scarce admits the feeble ray between;
A poison’d bubble, floating in the air,
That, when it bursts, will leave it’s venom there;
A Gorgon’s head, on which the eye, once set,
Must think with terror, and not soon forget;
A monster gliding underneath the wave,
That but appears, to prove the swimmers grave;
A flame that gouls from moulder’d coffins rouse
To shew the horrors of the Charnel-house;
A lamp of Hell, by imp malignant wrought
To scare the sight, and agonize the thought;
’Tis this, that mars all peace; engenders strife,
And adds self-ruin to the woes of life.

See, from the dust a novel creature spring,
The serpent’s nature with an eagles wing!
With tooth so sharp, and pow’r to soar as high
Thro’ all the pathless realms of sophistry!
Conveyancer[44]! so call’d, because his art
Can change and motion to estates impart;
Not by the efforts of mechanic hand,
But using legal error for a wand.
In vain the son his grandsires right displays,
And widow’d mother for her dowry prays.
A deed unsign’d, or signed too late, too soon,
A secret testament, a prior boon--
No stamp, or one not properly affixed,--
An instrument with fraud or weakness mix’d,--
A marriage, not by proper ritual grac’d,--
A seal by chance destroy’d or name effac’d,--
A passage interlined, or falsely crost;
A fine unlevied, or recov’ry lost,--
Construction varying with the varying mind,
And best opinions changing, like the wind,--
A meaning clear, tho’ doubtfully express’d,--
A meaning doubtful, tho’ in clearness dress’d,--
A rule of law, by folly misapplied,--
A point, which justice never yet has tried;--
All these, and thousands more the muse could name
The strength enfeeble of possessive claim;--
Give to this monster necromantic skill,
And make the law subservient to his will.
Lo! at his bidding money chang’d to lands,
And lands to money, as his voice commands;--
Estates for life a stinted term bewail,
And those in fee are hamper’d by a tail,--
O’ergrown remainders vanish into dust.
And useless uses take the form of trust.
’Tis his to conjure doubts, to breed dismay,
And hunt, a jackall, for the lions prey,--
To lend his aid, when crafty villains ask,
And clothe their purpose in an honest mask!

Nor rare the tribe; altho’ at first confin’d
To few; and those of scientific mind,
But yet not much enlighten’d;--as the spark
Of ill-wrought taper makes the night more dark,
Such Hargreave, Butler, Fearne, and many more,
Whose names have added to the mystic lore,
Which all must own was mist enough before.--
But these have had their day; and Preston[45] now
Assumes the sway with dictatorial brow.
And who is he? from whence? and what his claim
To be inscrib’d upon the rolls of fame?
In Devon born, he duly serv’d his time,
That long five years apprenticeship to crime--
Which at the desk he spent without a bribe,--
The ready copyist, and the unsullen scribe.
From Shepherd’s Touchstone next he drew a source
Of knowledge useful for his future course;
Thence did he learn each deed with curious eye.
To scan by practice of anatomy:--
As surgeons carefully dissect the heart,
To gain experience of each inward part.
Thus plodding on, while greater talents slept,
He and his doctrines into notice crept.
But novelty is past; and, like the worm,
That, for a time, has ta’en some brighter form,
Turns to the grub again, when life is gone;--
So Preston’s glory into air hath flown.
See in his chamber, where yon mirror hangs!
’Tis there he studies for his court harangues:
Harangues, whereby he seldom gains a cause,
Yet never fails to win his own applause.
He lisps--did not Demosthenes the same,
Before with pebbles he that fault o’ercame?
What, if conceit possesses Preston’s mind?
Pray, was not Cicero as vainly blind?
Not that I mean--no, reason aid me there--
With one or other Preston to compare.
They shine bright stars of eloquence sublime,
Each name untarnish’d by the rust of time;
While Preston’s name will last no longer than
The brief continuance of his own short span.
Fate in himself hath wisely plac’d the key
Of all he ever was, is, or shall be.
His praise with life shall to the grave descend,
One common burial and one common end!--
Unless, perchance in folly’s rank supreme,
He still may live to be of mirth the theme,
When those, who pass yon barren moors, shall state
How well he tried those heaths to cultivate;
Raise vegetation from the granite stone,
And rule the will of nature by his own.

The cause is open’d. Bell begins to plead,
And argues thus that Dobbin must succeed,[46]
“My Lord, your Lordship sees by common sense
“What is the object of my friend’s defence.
“A losing contract don’t exactly please,
“And that’s the reason, as your lordship sees.
“This having thus premised”--“nay, stop,” cries Horne;
“The statement really is not to be borne;
“A client breathes not, who can mine excell,
“At least as upright as my brother Bell.”
Then Bell resumes his speech with stutt’ring phrase,
“Why interrupt me when I state the case.
“Your Lordship knows that when men feel despair,
“They strive by noise to dissipate their care;
“Just so my friend that feeling would repress
“By dint of rage and stormy scornfulness;
“And well I know this conduct is but meant
“To break the order of one’s argument.
“So this I say, the judgment seat before,
“That right is right;--I do not plead for more.
“Defendant will not to his purchase stand,
“Whereby my client loses cash and land.
“Can this be right? No. Then, ’tis clear to me
“Relief with costs your Lordship will decree!”

Next Horne uprises with resentment dire,
And sputters nonsense in a speech of fire.
“My Lord,” he cries, “behold this massive bill;
“The office copy would a volume fill!
“’Tis only done my client to oppress,
“Investing falsehood with a grander dress,--
“The whole a tissue of malignant lies;
“Defendant’s answer every fact denies.
“My client has perhaps the land enjoyed,
“But then his money has been unemployed;
“For, when the abstract was from Preston got,
“It shew’d too glaringly the fatal blot.
“Possessive title, as your Lordship knows,
“Full sixty years enjoyment must disclose.
“Now it so happen’d that on Lady Day,
“When my poor client had the cash to pay;
“Hours four and twenty (so the fact appears)
“Must pass, to make a term of sixty years.
“The point, tho’ doubted once, is set at rest;--
“My friend may smile, but mine will be the jest.
“I claim your Lordship’s judgment on my side
“With all the foresight of triumphant pride.
“Nor care I who may blame! my client stands
“For Justice; and the law, not praise, demands:--
“If harsh the deed, his conscience may atone,
“But to the priest be that confession known.”

Thus Bell replies--“My Lord, behold my friend,
“Another Shylock--comes our lives to end.
“The pound of flesh he claims in barb’rous mood,
“Tho’ death should follow with the loss of blood.
“My friend admits the only flaw he knows
“Thro’ all the title to the paltry close,
“Is that on Lady Day a few short hours
“Were wanting to complete this term of ours;
“And that, because the title then was found
“Defective, nought on earth could make it sound.
“Who doubts the motive of such rotten plea?
“My friend may fume, ’tis plain enough to me.
“He asks for Justice.--What is Justice here?
“On March the twenty-sixth, our right was clear.
“That very day as evidence will shew,
“Defendant from his purchase wish’d to go,
“In this deceptious refuge took resort,
“And drove us most unwilling into Court.
“If law and justice in one point unite,
“My friend is wrong, and I am surely right.
“Who makes a contract must the terms fulfil;--
“We always have been ready; are so still.
“The title clear; the field by Gripe possess’d,
“No purchase money paid, nor interest,--
“Is this a case for cautious doubt to pause?
“Let common sense at once decide the cause!
“Substantial justice to my claim decree,
“And make for once a Court of Equity.”

Now hear the judge. “This cause I cannot end,
“But must with sorrow to the master send.[47]
“Let him into the business well inquire,
“And state each fact, as parties may desire,--
“What changes, if at all, has undergone
“The title; and when first a right was shewn.
“These points the wisest master should engross;
“So let the matter be referr’d to Cross.
“All other question, and the costs be stay’d
“For future judgment, when report is made.”

Ye heathen bards, in whose Tartarean Hell
“Hope withering droops, and mercy sighs farewell.”
Dark scene of horror, punishment, and fear;
Behold its agonies depictured here!
Another Tantalus attempts to sip
The welcome spring, that flows to mock his lip:--
Another Sysiphus rolls up the stone
To some tall height, from which it thunders down:
Here wretched dames, who never did a crime,
In filling sieves are doom’d to spend their time;--
Here too Ixions writhe upon a wheel
With pangs, that disappointment makes them feel;
While Tityus lies, by justice thrown aback,
And owns the tortures of a sharper rack;
Despair, the vulture, on his liver feeds,
And laps each gory life-drop, as it bleeds,--
Screams with delight at the prolong’d repast,
And owns no more the anguish of a fast!

In Chancery Lane a fabrick[48] rears its head,
Whose vermin inmates, by foul plunder fed,
In impious candour drown all mental qualms,
And cringe for bribes, as beggars ask for alms.
There registrar’s in form prepare decrees
With long recitals, adding to their fees;
While ill-paid clerks, unable else to live,
From office copies equal spoil derive.
Woe to the thrifty wretch, whoe’er he be,
That asks from South[49] no copy of decree!
In vain attention shall he claim; in vain
To ideot Burrows of delay complain.
Threats and entreaties meet the same neglect;
But take a copy, and secure respect.
Thus tam’d, no more the pug-nos’d monkey fear;
For all your wants command the pliant ear!
Your welcome face will haunt him in his dream,
And every smile a copy-order seem.

Nor less are ent’ring clerks by lucre sway’d,
Tho’ shame invests their purpose with a shade.
If orders press, they will not take a bribe:--
No, tempt not thus each conscientious scribe!
They spurn all gold you would on them confer;
But pray, be gen’rous to the stationer.[50]
A name invented rapine to conceal,--
As tailors cabbage, but disdain to steal.
Thro’ all the court it runs from right to left,
By custom sanctified, tho’ still a theft.
No outward form of words will vary crime;--
Who cribs an egg, may rob the house in time.
Once pass the bounds of uprightness, and see
How quick the transit into knavery!

Of all this dunghill crew there triumphs one,
Whom I must name Corruption’s favourite son!
Abbott[51], stand forth! thou pious-looking elf,
Cloak in that simple face thy love of pelf;
Of pelf extorted from the suitor’s purse.
Oh! may it prove to thee and thine a curse!
Let all reports thy greedy hand hath fil’d
Start from their shelves, and hearing thee revil’d,
Make known each instance of thy golden lust,
And own the muse is in its censure just.

Before my sight another viper’s nest[52]
Appears, as foul and loathsome as the rest;
Where bad accountants shew no other tact,
Than that which centres in the word “substract”--
That is, from others’ pocket to transfer
(The price of peace) what none would else confer.
For this objections, flimsy as the net
A spider weaves each passing fly to get,
They coin, and language turn from its intent
To speak a purpose that was never meant.
Some name mis-spelt--one letter less or more,
A petty blunder ne’er observed before,--
A mode of diction not precisely plain,
When fools attempt the grammar’s art to strain,--
Add to delay full many an iron bar,
And every effort of progression mar.
For, like the hydra, should you crush one head,
Behold ten others rising in its stead!

Alcide’s labours seem reviv’d, but none
Are found, like him, to combat vice alone.
Where right should flourish, see the weeds of crime
Brought to perfection by the viper’s slime;
Guilt spreads unnotic’d over Virtue’s ground,
And crawling reptiles spit their venom round.

Time was, when I on common sense intent,
These cocker critics fought with argument;
But soon I found that weapon better told
When slyly pointed with a piece of gold;
Conviction follow’d, as I gave it in,
And all confess’d my art deserv’d to win--
May heaven’s recorder blot away the sin!

Speed onward, Pegasus, and take a peep,
Where sixty clerks with their six elders sleep;[53]
Of whom the muse no good account can give,--
The worst of idlers in a dronish hive.
To do their duty on the Bible sworn;--
That oath should seem as taken but in scorn.
Why should they labour in so bad a trade?
Ten pence for ninety words is vilely paid;
And six and eight-pence adds but little strength,
When taxing bills according to their length.

Luxurious Baines! how often have I knelt
To beg thy presence, ’ere the news was spelt!
When idle fits enchained thee to the fire,
In vain persuasion, or the look of ire.
No force could motion to thy limbs impart;
A torpid creature, without head or heart!
And yet in thee the same weak point abounds.
Paid on account a cheque for fifty pounds
Thou feelest then a temper far more civil,
And for that sum would follow to the devil.
No more the blood-drops stagnate in thy veins;
No more can truth describe thee, lazy Baines!

Taxation[54] hail! thine academic school
Behold, where all are taught to judge by rule,
Not reason. Fools are ever paid the same
As those, whose talents grace the rolls of fame.
Successful labour gets no better pay
Than indolence, that loiters on the way;--
No matter what the toil, or care, or pain,--
Should usage fail, remonstrance pleads in vain.
In odious custom judgment lies interr’d;
To that is argument and sense referr’d.
By general nostrums quacks endanger life,
So clerks in court apply the pruning knife.
The system lops each rotten bough, ’tis true;
But then it severs many a sound one too.
Turn to the tedious process of contempt;--
Why should my foe from payment be exempt,
If, firm in every stage, except the last,
He leaves to me all damage of the past?--
Nor this the only point for suitors grief;
Ten thousand others claim a like relief.
If judges must permit delay at all,
The costs at least should on the guilty fall:
For where is justice, reason, law, or sense,
When parties in the wrong escape th’ expense.
No shelter lies beneath a silly rule;
It serves but to increase the ridicule;--
The blund’ring precept of some ancient sage,
Whose light is darkness in the present age.

There are, I hear, who bound in plainer calf
From every item always tax one half--
A sapient plan! which he, who draws the bill,
Can well defeat without a Turpin’s skill.
’Tis but to double what he means to score,
And thus hath plunder found another door;--
A place of entrance smuggled, as it were,
Thro’ one, who should prevent intrusion there!

I leave the cause with which my strain began;
For why again the same dull topics scan?
What Cross decides will not be right in course,--
Of new delays, and fresh appeals the source!
The ground, law’s hopeless victim trod before,
Must be re-trac’d with tardy pace once more.
Years of long trial he must pass again,
Till death shall finish, not his suit but pain;
And if, perchance, his twentieth heir shall see
An end to this heart-eating misery,
To pay large extra-costs the wretch can’t fail,--
His fate St. Lukes, the Workhouse, or a Jail.

A Court of Equity is well defin’d
By those, who call it “very, very kind,--”
The dwarf, who to a giant friend applied,
Obtain’d large conquests fighting by his side;
But every battle lopp’d away a limb.
Suitors! are you not very much like him?
Without that giant’s aid in vain the war;
But his is all the profit, yours the scar.
What boots success, if dearly bought with life?
Defend me, Heaven! from such victorious strife.
Ye dwarfs, no more such strong protection seek,
Unequal friendships always hurt the weak!
Ye injured, shun all help from Chancery!
The Court’s a hell, of which death keeps the key!!!

Still are there cases, where it seems to shine,
But ’tis like icicle in iron mine,--
Bright for a time, and brilliant beams it’s ray,
But soon it breaks or melting fades away;--
Thus when the Court, a Foundling Hospital,
On orphan babes[55] it’s parent hand lets fall,
The deed so charitably good appears,
That fond delusion hails the sight with tears;--
But soon alas! those tears of joy will turn
To drops of bitter woe, the soul to burn--
E’en babes must pay of guardianship the price,
And feel the gripe of legal avarice.
The masters word must ever guide their fate
In person, conduct, marriage, or estate.
Some trees want felling; houses claim repair;
A lease is sought; are the conditions fair?
Receivers would upon a farm distrain;
Guardians of too small maintenance complain;
In every case, before an act be done,
Must approbation from the Court be won;
Aye, e’n ere Hymen’s torch can hallow love,
The Court and Master must its joys approve.

Oh! happy infants, how supremely blest!
To this parental care is but a jest.
A tiger of her young, by death withdrawn,
Supplied the loss by suckling a young fawn.
Maternal love into her bosom crept,
And for a time each wilder passion slept;
But famine soon upon the savage grew;
With sparkling eyes her foster cub she drew
Close to her dugs, where lay the milky sup;
And out of pure affection eat it up.
Just so the Court each tender orphan treats;
But ’tis the fortune, not the babe, it eats.

When men run mad, the Court effectual pains
Exerts, that none should e’er resume their brains;
For picture one, who buried in the tomb
Should wake again amid the charnel’s gloom,
Find his cold corpse by winding sheets secur’d.
And thus within a narrow vault immured;
Say, would the light of his returning sense
Do more, than once again expel it thence?
E’en so the maniac, if, by chance, a beam
Of wand’ring reason thro’ his head should gleam,
What speechless horror would he feel to see
Himself and substance wards of Chancery?
That prospect all reviving sense would sever,
And plunge his mind in darkest night for ever!

Should partners quarrel in their mutual trade,
What friend so ready as the Court to aid?
View’d from afar it’s proffers kind may seem,
But near acquaintance proves the whole a dream.
Death at our call a visit oft will pay,
Surprised to find we wish him far away;--
So Chancery suitors are compelled with grief
To spurn the hand, from which they sought relief
Whate’er the joint concern; for five per cent
The court secures an able management;
Keeps just account, but at a large expense,
And claims great merit for it’s abstinence.
Thus Eldon long of Opera House the warden,
And erst ex-manager of Covent Garden,[56]
Play’d many parts on the commercial stage;--
The most extensive chapman of the age.
In iron now, and now in brass he dealt,
But gold would never in his fingers melt;
With careful hand he kept the precious ore,
And every guinea made him wish for more.

When stinted tenants do or threaten waste,
Fly for injunctions to the court in haste;
And weep at leisure o’er the wasted means,
That e’en success from such procedure gleans.[57]
Another’s faults are seldom pass’d unknown:
How few will condescend to cure their own!

Ye hungry churchmen, fond of tithes in kind,
Hunt ancient records, ancient rights to find.
Preach to your simple flock of peace with tears,
Then,--set them altogether by the ears;
And, should you wish sincerely lov’d to be,
Drag all the parish into Chancery--
For your’s is not the fault, but theirs, who bilk
The starving rector of his tithes of milk,
Of corn, potatoes, wood, calves, geese, and swine;
Say, claims he not the tenth by right divine?[58]
From holy writ the principle is taken,
And he who doubts will scarcely save his bacon!

How many jars from nuptial contracts rise,
And add fresh force to legal sacrifice!
Decay’d affections, ere they quite expire,
Erect in Chancery their fun’ral pyre;
The husband lights the flambeau for his spouse,
And both in turn contention’s spirit rouse:--
Still is it singular, ’mid all their strife,
How well they keep the part of man and wife.
Each on the other loads abuse at first,
But ends at last in cursing law the worst.[59]

Of all the copious springs, that Chancery fill,
The most prolific is a nabob’s will.
From every line a source of contest flows,
That wakes to light, when he sinks to repose.
How would the miser, who hath left his hoard,
To build a place for service of the Lord,
Or some more charitable purpose, stare,
To see that treasure given to his heir,[60]
A thoughtless prodigal, to whom, in hope
Of making better he bequeathed a rope;
The only loom which that young gen’rous elf
Wished the testator to enjoy himself.
There’s not a legacy, or land devise,
On which some legal question may not rise,
Of long litigious misery the root,
Set by a hand, that never reaps its fruit.

Oh! Equity, thou o’ergorg’d beast, digest
What now distends thy maw, and spare the rest.
Let weary jackalls slumber for a time,
’Till sleep begets an emptiness of crime.
When hunger calls, employ again thy pow’r,
But mangle not, unless thou can’st devour.[61]
Of death itself we little should complain,
If lingering torments did not add to pain.

Exhaustion summons; not that matter fails,
But idle nature o’er my muse prevails.
A weariness in her perhaps may find
The same sensations in a reader’s mind.
Enough for me, if one amid the throng
Shall learn to profit by my humble song;
Embark not vainly in a losing cause,
Nor seek protection from deficient laws.
Enough for me, if by exposure shamed,
One wretch shall be from vicious acts reclaim’d;
Admit that truth has temper’d censure’s rod,
And rescued him from Beelzebub to God!

THE END.

LONDON:

Printed by J. KAY, 1, Welbeck Street,
Cavendish Square.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Market day to a country attorney, is like sowing-time to the corn-field. It lays the foundation of his professional harvest. From the conferences of that day spring all his actions at law, and his chancery suits. Litigation, encouraged by legal advice and good ale, warms into action, and is no longer restrained by the dictates of sober prudence.

[2] Every one knows the difficulty of reading Bell’s opinions. He is said to have three sorts of hand writing: the first he can read himself, but his clerk cannot. The second his clerk can read, but he cannot. The third, no human being; no, not even the most learned decipherer of hieroglyphics, can make out.

[3] I mean no personal disrespect to Mr. Bell, whose superior talents I freely acknowledge; but such are the opinions of most counsel, and on such precious morsels of indecision are founded chancery suits without number.

[4] This is a scene from Lincolns Inn. There is not a draftsman or solicitor, that will not feel the truth of it; the one with conscious shame, the other with that bitterness of spirit, arising from the recollection of repeated disappointments of a similar nature to those described.

[5] It is this demand of “money on account” that first removes the film from the eyes of the unhappy client. He then discovers the full horror of his situation. Expenses have been incurred, and to retreat will involve him in a certain loss. He therefore determines to proceed, but with terror in his looks, and despair at his heart.

[6] All chancery writs are sealed, which, being a mere matter of form, is done in a moment. Certain days, however, are appointed for this ceremony, and should any pressing business occur at any other time, it is necessary to pay a fee of two guineas to open the seal, as it is called.

[7] I recommend no man to attach his adversary for want of appearance or answer--let a defendant take his own time. The allowed costs of an attachment are somewhere about eight shillings and two pence, upon tendering which sum the defendant is entitled to be discharged from his contempt, although the plaintiff may have incurred an expense of 20_l._ in executing the process, and carrying his opponent to goal. Another instance of the propriety with which this court is denominated a “court of equity.”

[8] Should a solicitor be negligent in his business, the clerk in court will amuse himself for years with handing alternative notes of “Answer or Attachment” to the adverse clerk in court, without the least probability of any attention ever being paid to them. In every case this ridiculous courtesy is productive of much unnecessary delay. The order for time is equally useless and absurd. A defendant in a country cause is entitled as of course to two; one for six weeks, and another for a month. Why could he not be allowed to claim the time he is thus entitled to without this mummery and expense.

[9] An ingenious draftsman, well versed in all the dilatory knowledge necessary to protract a suit--the uncle, I believe, of the notorious Edward Gibbon Wakefield!

[10] James Lowe of Southampton Buildings, Chancery Lane, a well-known solicitor, very fond of drawing his own pleadings, but which, it is said, he cannot often get counsel to sign. Koe obliges him occasionally with his sign manual, but I have understood that this gentleman’s conscience is too tender on some occasions to give perfect satisfaction.

[11] To whom is the ignorant and blustering Francis Cross unknown; once captain of Militia, now master in chancery? His qualifications for the latter office are said to have been discovered by the late Lord Chancellor in the gallant exertions he displayed in assisting his Lordship and Lady Eldon out of the kennel, in which a broken down carriage had left them sprawling. Any scavenger would have done as much. Gratitude on this occasion really carried his Lordship too far, but as the only instance on record of any thing like feeling in his character, it is well worthy of admiration. The military genius of Captain Cross still displays itself in the repeated vollies of fire, ending in smoke, with which he attacks all those who have courage enough to dispute his erroneous opinions.

[12] Samuel Compton Cox,--a worthy man, but one who lets his passions outstrip his judgment. The slightest observation will often give offence, and anger renders him deaf to all reason and argument.

[13] Francis Paul Stratford--a gentleman, who frequently amuses himself with throwing books at the solicitors attending before him.

[14] James Stephen--a great advocate for the abolition of the Slave Trade--much to be commended for having abolished in his office that shameful practice of giving to the chief clerk large un-authorized fees upon every report. Few men would have had courage enough to brave the odium, to which such a step, unimitated by the other masters, must have exposed this gentleman.

[15] James Trower--the most trifling of all official babblers.

[16] John Pugh chief clerk to Sir Giffin Wilson, and John Hone the same to Master Cox. Should a solicitor pay not handsomely these two worthies, let him expect but little attention. From the former, indeed, it is hardly possible by any means to secure civility.

[17] Mr. Kensit and Mr. Jones; two men as remarkable for their abilities and civility as for the amiable contrast they exhibit to the two masters (Stratford and Cross) of whom they are respectively chief clerks.

[18] Lord Lyndhurst--the present Lord Chancellor--late Sir John Singleton Copley Knight--a man of strong intellect and sound judgment, but totally inexperienced in the practice and principles of a court of equity.

[19] The Earl of Eldon. The descriptive portrait of his Lordship is drawn from my own observation--my readers (if I should ever be fortunate enough to have any) will judge of its correctness.

[20] Sir John Leach, late vice chancellor, now master of the Rolls; the peculiar object of dislike to Lord Eldon on account of the comparative dispatch with which he disposed of the causes that were brought before him.

[21] Henry Brougham, (pronounced “Broom”) whose continual attacks upon his Lordship, and the court over which he presided, gave mortal offence.

[22] Her Ladyship’s frugality is well known. It would be out of place here to repeat the stories of the turbot and turkey.

[23] Mr. Hand Clerk of the papers to the late Lord Chancellor, who could never be prevailed on to receive papers, where he could avoid it with any sort of decency. Adverting to the immense accumulation of papers he used to say that the Chancellor could scarcely enter his own house without being in danger of breaking his shins over a bundle of briefs at the door.

[24] This being only an interlocutory proceeding, the _supposition may perhaps be entertained_.

[25] William Agar and his mansion in the country, near St. Pancrass workhouse, are well known. So inviolable does he maintain his territorial rights, that a poor wretch caught angling in his fish-pond the other day, was, as I hear, transported for that heinous offence. Frowd, of the firm of Frowd and Rose, Carey Street, and Philip Hurd, of the house of Hurd and Johnson, Temple, are notorious as the chief providers of this calf-like lion.

[26] George Spence. This gentleman, who lately contrived to get himself returned member of parliament for a few weeks, had the vain effrontery to inform the House of Commons that his sole object in getting there, was to instruct them in legislation on equitable juris-prudence.

[27] Witnesses in Chancery are examined upon written interrogations prepared and signed by counsel: a most wretched and ineffectual system of extracting truth. The execution of the commission is entrusted to friends of the solicitors in the cause, and the witnesses are all previously well tutored as to what it is expected of them to swear. The proceedings are always conducted at an inn, where the solicitors, commissioners and witnesses, drown all their animosities in the sociability of the table. Every day is provided at the expense of the litigant parties a dinner, at which the viands and wines are the very best and most expensive that the house can afford. Liberal potations of course produce head-aches, for which there is nothing so wholesome as air and exercise. Business is thus frequently neglected for the sports of the field. Can any censure be too severe for such iniquity?

[28] The depositions of witnesses are liable to be suppressed on many trifling grounds, which is another serious grievance arising out of the mode of taking evidence in the Court of Chancery. I was some time ago informed that the omission of the letter “s” at the end of the word “evangelists” in a jurat, actually caused an expense to the plaintiff of about 80_l._

[29] The death of a party, who has an interest in any cause, often produces infinite delay. I have known a suit remain inactive for many years in consequence of there being no person who would take out administration to the deceased.

[30] The change or death of a solicitor in the cause is also frequently the means of prolonging a suit. There are many instances in which the taxation of a suitor’s bill has been pending for several years. Our friend James Lowe is here introduced on the grand arena of his fame. He carries taxation to an extremity of meanness and hostility that is perfectly disgusting!

[31] Solicitors are allowed 4_d._ a folio of ninety words for abbreviating pleadings, and 3_s._ 4_d._ a brief sheet for copying the abbreviations. They are also allowed 10_s._ a sheet for drawing and copying observations, which I will venture to say no counsel ever reads. The word “brief” is truly the “lucus a non lucendo.”

[32] Sir Samuel Romilly, who, with all his virtues, was as much attached to fees as any man. Hundreds of briefs did he take when he must have known that it was impossible for him to attend to them. A man cannot divide himself, nor be at the same moment in the House of Lords, and the Court of Chancery.

[33] Sir Anthony Hart, of considerable experience in the principles and practice of the Court of Chancery; but a prosing and monotonous advocate. One of his long speeches has frequently set me to sleep, and I believe I was not singular in my drowsiness. He has recently been created Vice Chancellor.

[34] Edward Burtenshaw Sugden, a counsel who always reads his briefs, and does justice to his case. He has written a book on powers, which he frequently cites as “The Book on Powers.” He has great talent, and has also the wit to know it. The Sussex election, at which he was so hastily “perused and settled” by Sir Godfrey Webster must be fresh in public recollection. His conduct more recently, on proposing himself for a borough, and offering to be guided in his politics by the wishes of the electors, deserves severe reprehension; but for this perhaps he is sufficiently punished by the exposure of his correspondence to that effect.

[35] William Horne, an angry snarler, of fluent speech, but feeble argument.

[36] Lancelot Shadwell, who well merits all that is said of him.

[37] John Fonblanque; who has merited more than he has obtained. His notes to the Treatise on Equity, are written with very considerable talent.

[38] Mr. Park, who some few years ago published a book of some merit, but which, it was said, he never wrote. This work, however, and his affectation of extraordinary piety seem to have been the cause of his elevation to a dignity, for which he was totally incompetent. His behaviour in court was occasionally that of an ideot. When on the circuit, the door of the town-hall must not creak, nor he be kept a moment from his dinner under any circumstances. His ill-temper exposed him to continual quarrels with the counsel, and whenever he found himself in the wrong, he talked of behaving towards one he might have offended with the patience of a Christian judge.

[39] George Heald, a man of great abilities, and considerable wit, but so idle that he seldom reads his brief. If the statements of counsel may be supposed to have any weight on the mind of the judge, what must be the situation of Heald’s client;--of whom the adverse counsel may state what he pleases as alledged in the pleadings without the fear of contradiction; for how can the other know whether it be true or false? To be sure if Agar were his adversary, he might give a shrewd guess!

[40] Sir Charles Weatherall!--late attorney general;--an office, to which it should seem he had long aspired. His defence of Watson, Thistlewood, &c. is well known; and the motive of his conduct in that affair is said to have been disappointed ambition. On the occasion of the late change in the ministry, it was asserted that a letter from the premier, appointing Sir Charles, Master of the Rolls, and from Sir Charles, tendering his resignation of the office of Attorney General, crossed each other on the road.

[41] James Lewis Knight;--of whose sound judgment and sterling talents I am glad to have an opportunity of offering this small tribute of admiration.

[42] Basil Montagu!--employed only in bankruptcy cases. He is particularly notorious in stickling for retainers; without which he pretends to think himself justified to support a petition to-day, and oppose it to-morrow. He is also an author; or, I should rather say, a compositor of books, which are sometimes bought, but not much read. I do not trouble myself about his genealogy.

[43] The bankruptcy system in this country is most horrible. Let any one visit the commissioners court in Basinghall Street, and witness the scenes that are there transacted. The commissioners are paid 20_s._ for each meeting, and in order to make the most of their time, they have frequently ten different appointments at the same hour. The confusion may be easily conceived.

[44] It was not until lately that the practice of conveyancing was converted into an independent branch of the legal profession, and clogged with all the niceties in which it is at present enveloped. Few titles can stand the test of the all-searching scrutiny with which they are now investigated. Conveyancers always furnish a very abundant supply of litigation to the Court of Chancery.

[45] Richard Preston, brought up in a country attorneys office, and thence removed to London, where he has for several years practised as a conveyancer. He is the editor of a work called, Shepherd’s Touchstone, and the author of several publications on conveyancing. In the early part of his career he obtained some reputation for talent, but much of it has passed away. He is vainer of his oratorical powers than a peacock of its tail, but the bird has this advantage over the man, that others unite in admiration of its feathers; while Preston is compelled to be satisfied with his own applause. He once formed a project, very ingenious no doubt, for cultivating some of the barren moors in Devonshire, but in attempting to carry it into effect, he was, I believe, nearly ruined.

[46] The arguments, will, I fear, be found very dull; but should the reader ever attend the Court of Chancery, he will find the reality equally stupid. It can hardly be expected of me that I should be able to make Horne agreeable, or Bell amusing.

[47] Some idle reference to the master is the favourite mode of disposing of a cause practiced by Sir John Leach--men who know no better praise him for his dispatch. The suitor finds to his cost that such expedition is very tedious and very expensive.

[48] The office of the registrars.

[49] Mr. South is chief clerk to Henry Burrows one of the deputy registrars of the court. To win South’s favor the solicitor must take copies of all minutes, orders, and decrees. It is not very wise to get into his black book. To those, who never bespeak an office copy he is blind and deaf. The following dialogue is said to have taken place between South and a solicitor. Sol. “I shall be obliged Mr. South by your letting me have the short order as soon as possible.” South. “Do you take a copy.” Sol. “No.” South. “Call in a fortnight.” Sol. “On second thought Mr. South, I shall want a copy.” South. “Oh! call to-morrow.”

[50] “The stationer” is a cant term made use of in all the Chancery offices for money you are obliged to give beyond the regular fees for expediting any business.

[51] Mr. Abbot, chief clerk in the office, where reports are filed--from whom the solicitor will in vain attempt to get an office copy of a report, unless “the stationer” has been thought of.

[52] The accountant general’s office; where a parcel of addle-headed clerks give the solicitors an infinity of trouble by picking holes in orders and reports for the purpose of shewing their consequence, and inducing the profession to bribe them into silence, which is accordingly often done with effect. It is better to humour the viper, than tread upon his tail.

[53] The office of the six clerks, and of the sixty clerks in court where all pleadings are filed. The principal duty of the clerks in court is to copy the pleadings (for which he is allowed 10_d._ a folio) and to assist the masters in taxing costs at the rate of 6_s._ 8_d._ for every hour or for every twenty folios in the length of the bill. They are all a set of drones, but our friend John Baines really out Hectors Hector.

[54] Taxation is entirely regulated by custom, and the principle upon which it is conducted often produces the greatest injustice as well to the solicitor as to the client. To get a party into contempt for disobedience to an order of the court a writ of execution must be taken out and served upon him, and various other expensive proceedings resorted to; and yet should he obey the order before the whole process is actually completed, not one sixpence will be allowed against him in costs. There are other instances equally gross. I have often argued against such injustice, but have been always answered “this is our rule, we cannot do otherwise.” Is it not high time that a remedy should be provided. There are some, who in taxing discretionary charges as between a solicitor and his client, invariably take off one half of each item. How must a conscientious solicitor suffer from this mode of exercising direction! The resource of a less delicate mind is obvious.

[55] Infants and lunatics are the peculiar objects of the court’s protection as well in person as estate--but it is like an ogre feasting on the traveller to whom he had offered an asylum.

[56] The court is frequently obliged to interfere in partnership brawls, and wind up the joint trade. The Opera House has been in Chancery for years, and Covent Garden has now the same felicity.

[57] Why is not the court as vigilant in abstaining from waste, as it is in preventing others from committing it?

[58] Tithe-questions present a fruitful source of equitable jurisdiction. It is the fashion of churchmen to boast of their title by “right divine.” If the right be celestial, the remedy is satanic!

[59] Marriage settlements produce infinite litigation, but much as husband and wife may be dissatisfied with each other, they generally end in abusing their equitable mediator--reminding one of the old adage:

He, who between man and wife interposes
Will get black eyes, and bloody noses.

[60] Referring to the Mortmain Acts. Wills supply the court with more than two thirds of its victims.

[61] Alluding to the present over-abundance of business which it would take years to clear away, without the introduction of any new suits. Even brutes refrain from swallowing what they are unable to digest.