Part 5

_Mr. Kosts (promptly, with a bow)._ I trust your Grace will not give the matter another thought--Mr. Silvertongue shall be instructed. (_Preparing to go._) Of course, your Grace’s young relative, the Honourable Charles Needy, will act as junior?

_The Duke._ Certainly, Mr. Kosts. Give Charley as much of my work as possible. My wife’s cousin, I am afraid, is not overburdened with briefs.

_Mr. Kosts._ I am afraid not, your Grace. And yet Mr. Needy is a sharp and clever young gentleman. Good day, your Grace!

_The Duke (after a moment’s thought, suddenly)._ One moment, Mr. Kosts. Did I understand you to say that the two branches of the legal profession were amalgamated?

_Mr. Kosts._ To all intents and purposes, your Grace. You see we can now do all the work of the Bar.

_The Duke._ And I suppose barristers can act as solicitors--I mean, undertake the same kind of business?

_Mr. Kosts (laughing)._ There is nothing to prevent them, your Grace, save their incapacity.

_The Duke (with dignity)._ No relative of the Duchess, Mr. Kosts, can be incapable!

_Mr. Kosts (puzzled)._ I beg your Grace’s pardon. I do not quite understand----

_The Duke._ Then I will explain. You tell me that barristers can now act as solicitors. Well, you know the old adage, that “blood is thicker than water.” It is, Mr. Kosts; it is. You will pardon me, I am sure, if I suggest that the connection of your firm with my family has not been unlucrative.

_Mr. Kosts._ On the contrary, your Grace! I may fairly say that the connection is worth many hundreds a-year to us. We cannot be sufficiently grateful.

_The Duke._ Pray desist, Mr. Kosts. The matter is one of pure business. It really is not at all a question of gratitude. Well, as I understand you to say that Mr. Needy is quite qualified to undertake solicitor’s work----

_Mr. Kosts (blankly)._ Theoretically, your Grace; theoretically.

_The Duke (haughtily)._ Any relative of the Duchess can reduce theory to practice.

_Mr. Kosts (bowing)._ No doubt, your Grace; no doubt.

_The Duke._ Well, as I now find that Charley can do the work I have hitherto given to you, Mr. Kosts, I feel that some alteration must be made. Charley is poor, and my relative. So I am sure you will not be offended when for the future I give him the whole of the legal work I used to give to you. You see, after all (as you explained to me just now) it is purely a matter of business!

[_Scene closes in upon Mr. Kosts’ discomfiture._

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NEW LEGAL WORK. (_By the author of “In Silk Attire.”_)--“The briefless junior; or, plenty of stuff to spare.”

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MUSICAL LAW.--“Bar’s rest.” Long vacation.

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A LABORIOUS OCCUPATION.--Shop-lifting.

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A Lawsuit now pending in Tennessee between two families has run for such a length of time, that it takes six men of the strongest memories in the State to remember when it was begun.

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MY FIRST CLIENT

(_By A. Briefless, Junior_)

“Here is something for you, sir,” said a sharp-looking youth, suddenly thrusting into my hand a document.

I quietly put the paper into my pocket without comment (I had no wish to bandy words with the process-server), and reflected that some half-forgotten tailor, or too-long-neglected hatter, was a person of no real delicacy of feeling.

“And will you see to the matter at once?” continued the sharp-looking youth, “as they can’t wait.”

“Certainly,” I replied, with a dignity which I intended should suggest that I had a perfectly fabulous account at Coutts’s. My account at the celebrated banking firm referred to _is_ perfectly fabulous.

“All right, sir. I suppose we shall see you in the morning.”

The youth disappeared, and I journeyed home. As I walked along the Thames Embankment I pondered over the alterations made in our law by the Judicature Acts.

“When I was a younger man,” I murmured to myself, “a copy of a writ, when considered entirely without prejudice, was rather a handsome instrument than otherwise. The direct message from the Sovereign, for instance, used to be very far from ungratifying, although perhaps it would have been better had the greeting been joined to a matter a little less embarrassing, say, than an unsatisfied claim for the value of certain shirts. But nowadays the neat crisp document of the olden time seems to be abandoned for a far more bulky paper--for the packet I have in my pocket!”

However, I threw off my cares, and thought no more of the affair until the next morning, when, putting on my overcoat, I discovered, to my intense astonishment, to my overwhelming joy, that what I had believed to be a writ was actually a brief. I had to sit down on the hall-chair for five minutes to compose myself. My emotion was perfectly painful--it was my first, my maiden brief! The news spread like wildfire through the household, and the distant strains of “Rule, Britannia!” were heard coming from the nursery.

There was but one thing to be done, and I did it. I hurriedly collected all the law-books I possess (Shearwood’s “Abridgment of Real Property,” an odd volume of Stephen’s “Commentaries,” and an early edition of “The Comic Blackstone”), jumped into a hansom, and rattled down to Pump-Handle Court. Arrived there, I handed my brief to my clerk (the sharp-looking youth who had given me the paper turned out to be my clerk), and instructed him to put it in a prominent position in his own room, so that my client, when he arrived, might see it, and conclude that I had so many matters just then in hand that I had not had as yet time to look into his case, which was waiting its turn for consideration with numerous others. I was ashamed to give these instructions, but reflected that it was important, having regard to my professional prospects, that my expected visitor should be kept as long as possible in ignorance of the fact that he was my solitary employer.

“All right, sir,” said my clerk, with a facial gesture which I regret to say savoured of a wink. “He will be here by eleven.”

I now entered my own room. It was rather in disorder. I share my chambers with an intimate friend, and as I am very often away, he sometimes uses my _sanctum_ (entirely with my consent) as a receptacle for empty packing-cases, old cigar-boxes, superfluous window-curtains, and worn-out boots. With the assistance of my clerk, who followed me in, I soon set things to rights, putting on the month-indicator from October to March, filling the inkstand with copying fluid, and removing somebody’s pot-hat from the brows of my bust of the late Lord Chancellor Brougham.

“There, sir, I think that will do now,” said my clerk, with a look of satisfaction, and he left me seated at my desk turning over some dusty brief paper which I had found knocking about in one of the drawers.

My room is a semi-subterranean apartment in a circular tower. I have two small casements looking out upon some gardens, but as I occupy the basement, I can only see the ankles of the passers-by, and am myself free from observation save when some more than usually unruly urchin brings his head level with mine, and makes faces at me through the window.

I repeat I was turning over the dusty brief-paper, and toying with Mr. Shearwood’s very excellent “Abridgment,” when the door was thrown open and my clerk announced, “Someone to see you, sir.”

“You will pardon me,” I said, without looking up, consulting in the meantime the hand-book before me with knitted brows, “but I am engaged for a few moments. I will attend to you directly.”

“Oh, certainly, sir,” replied the new-comer, in the most deferential tone possible; and he took a seat.

I jotted down the incidents of Borough English, frowned as if engaged in deep thought, and then smilingly turned to my visitor, and asked him how I could be of service to him.

“I want you to look into this case, sir,” he began, with a timidity that was as unexpected as it was gratifying--his nervousness gave me confidence.

“By all means,” I responded heartily, dipping a pen into the ink, and putting a fresh sheet of brief-paper over the page I had already used for the incidents of Borough English and a freehand sketch of a British Grenadier, “I shall be glad to hear all about it.”

“I must apologise for intruding upon you, knowing how busy you are, but I thought you would be interested in what I have to place before you.”

“Pray do not apologise,” I hastened to say; and then added, with a little laugh, “I certainly have taken you out of your turn, but then this is our first transaction. I hope it will not be the last.”

“I hope so, too,” replied my client, fervently. “If you will allow me, I will often place things like this before you. I should have come to you earlier only so many gentlemen object to seeing me.”

“Dear me!” I replied, a little surprised. “I suppose some men don’t care to jeopardise their professional reputation by failure. And now, with your permission, I will look into your case.”

“It is here, sir,” he answered, opening a rather large portfolio. “You will notice that these are very beautiful engravings.”

“Certainly,” I returned, making a note on the paper before me; “as you say, most beautiful. No doubt of very considerable value.”

“I am glad you like them, sir. They are forced to be got rid of at an enormous sacrifice.”

“Indeed!” I ejaculated, continuing my notes.

“Yes, sir. They are being sold at something less than cost-price.”

“Really!” And again I jotted down the particulars. Then I said, to show that I comprehended the affair at a glance, “I suppose there has been a dispute about the copyright?”

“No, sir, that’s all right.”

“Ah, to be sure--then there has been a breach of contract?” But finding that this also was not the case, I said, with hearty _bonhomie_, “Well, my dear sir, as I have made two bad guesses, perhaps you had better tell me what I can do for you.”

My client coughed deferentially, and then produced a paper.

“I beg your pardon, sir, but would you mind signing this?”

I read the document--it ran as follows:--

“To Messrs. Scamp and Vamp.--_I hereby agree to purchase one copy of your ‘Pillars of the Law from the Earliest Ages,’ profusely illustrated, in one hundred and fifty-seven monthly parts, at seven shillings and sixpence a part. I further agree to pay for this work annually, at the rate of twelve parts in advance._”

There was a solemn and awful pause. Then I drew myself up to my full height, and in a voice of thunder _ordered him out_! I know not _how_ he disappeared--in a moment he had vanished, portfolio and all!

Rather fatigued after my late exertions, I called to my clerk, and with weary haughtiness desired him to bring me my brief, as I wished to “glance through the papers.”

“Your brief, sir?” he returned. “Oh, I should have told you, sir, that, while you were talking to the man with the engravings, they called to see you. They said they were in a hurry, and as you were engaged, they would take it to some one else.”

“Take it to some one else!” My maiden brief!

At this point I must pause--for the moment, I can write no more!

A. BRIEFLESS, JUNIOR.

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_First Cultured Safe-Breaker._ “Harris.”

_Second C. S.-B._ “Sir.”

_First C. S.-B._ “Have you got your gloves on?”

_Second C. S.-B._ “Yes, sir.”

_First C. S.-B._ “Then take the kiver off!”]

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CROSSED-EXAMINATION

OLD STYLE.--_Nervous Witness about to leave the box, when his progress is arrested by Counsel on the other side._

_Counsel (sharply)._ Now, sir, do know the value of an oath?

_Witness (taken aback)._ Why, yes--of course.

_Coun. (pointing at him)._ Come, no prevarication! Do you understand the value, or do you not?

_Wit. (confused)._ If you will allow me to explain----

_Coun._ Come, sir, you surely can answer yes or no--now which is it?

_Wit._ But you will not let me explain----

_Coun._ Don’t be impertinent, sir! Explanation is unneeded. Mind, you have been sworn, so if you _don’t_ know the value of an oath, it will be the worse for you.

_Wit._ But you won’t let me speak.

_Coun._ Won’t let you speak! Why, I can’t get a word out of you. Now, sir, in plain English--are you a liar or not?

_Wit. (appealing to Judge)._ Surely, my lord, he has no right to speak to me like this?

_Judge._ Be good enough to answer the counsel’s questions. I have nothing to do with it.

_Coun._ Now sir--once more; are you a liar, or are you not?

_Wit._ I don’t think that’s the way you would speak to me----

_Coun._ Don’t bully me, sir! You are here to tell us the truth; or as much of it as you can.

_Wit._ But surely you ought to----

_Coun._ Don’t tell me what I ought to do, sir. Again, are you a liar, or are you not?

_Wit._ Please tell me how I am to reply to such a question?

_Coun._ You are not there to ask me questions, sir, but to answer _my_ questions to _you_.

_Wit._ Well, I decline to reply.

_Judge (to Witness)._ Now you had better be careful. If you do not answer the questions put to you, it will be within my right to send you to gaol for contempt of court.

_Coun._ Now you hear what his lordship says, and now, once more, are you a liar or are you not?

_Wit. (confused)._ I don’t know.

_Coun. (to Jury)._ He doesn’t know! I need ask nothing further!

[_Sits down._

_Foreman (to Judge)._ May we not ask, my lord, how you consider this case is being conducted.

_Judge._ With pleasure, gentlemen! I will repeat what I remarked to the Master quite recently. I think the only word that will describe the matter is “noble.” Distinctly noble!

[_Scene closes in upon despair of Witness._

NEW STYLE.--_Arrogant Witness about to leave the box, when his progress is arrested by Counsel on the other side._

_Coun._ I presume, sir, that----

_Wit. (sharply)._ You have no right to presume. Ask me what you want, and have done with it.

_Coun. (amiably)._ I think we shall get on better--more quickly--if you kindly attend to my questions.

_Wit._ Think so? Well, it’s a matter of opinion. But, as I have an engagement in another place, be good enough to ask what you are instructed to ask and settle the matter off-hand.

_Coun._ If you will allow me to speak----

_Wit._ Speak!--I like that! Why, I can’t get a rational word out of you!

_Coun. (appealing to Judge)._ Surely, my lord, he has no right to speak to me like this?

_Judge._ Be good enough to attend to the witness. I have nothing to do with it.

_Wit. (impatiently)._ Now, sir, am I to wait all day?

_Coun. (mildly)._ I really venture to suggest that is not quite the tone to adopt.

_Wit._ Don’t bully me, sir! I am here to answer any questions you like to put, always supposing that you have any worth answering.

_Coun._ But come--surely you ought to----

_Wit._ I am not here to learn my duty from you, sir. You don’t know your subject, sir. How long have you been called?

_Coun._ I decline to reply.

_Judge (to Counsel)._ Now you had really better be careful. I wish to treat the Bar with every respect, but if you waste any more time I shall feel strongly inclined to bring your conduct before your Benchers.

_Wit._ You hear what his lordship says. What are you going to do next?

_Coun. (confused)._ I don’t know.

_Wit. (to Jury)._ He doesn’t know! I needn’t stay here any longer.

[_“Stands” down._

_Judge (to Jury)._ May I ask you, gentlemen, how you consider this case is being conducted?

_Foreman of the Jury._ With pleasure, my lord. We were all using the same word which exactly describes the situation. We consider the deportment of the witness “noble.” Distinctly noble.

[_Scene closes in upon despair of Counsel._

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BARCAROLES FOR BRIEFLESS BARRISTERS

AIR--_“The Sea! the Sea!”_

The Fee! the fee! the welcome fee! The new! the fresh! the scarce to me! Without a brief, without a pound, I travel the circuit round and round. I draw with the pens at each assize, If ink before me handy lies. I’ve got a fee! I’ve got a fee! I’ve got what I so seldom see; With the judge above, and the usher below, I wait upon the last back row. Should a silk gown come with argument deep, What matter! I can go to sleep.

I love (oh, _how_ I love) to bide At some fierce, foaming, senior’s side. When every mad word stuns the court, And the judges wish he’d cut it short, And tell him the case of So-and-So, His argument doth to atoms blow.

I never hear Chancery’s dull, tame jaw, But I love the fun of the Common Law, And fly to the Exchequer, Bench and Pleas, As a mouse flies back to a Cheshire cheese! For the cheese it always seem’d to me, Especially if I got a fee!

My whiskers are white, my head is bald, Since the dreary hour when I was call’d. The Steward he whistled as out he told The fees at my call from a packet of gold. And never was heard of a step so wild As took to the bar the briefless child. I’ve liv’d since then, in term and out, Some thirty years, or thereabout; Without a brief, but power to range From court to court by way of change. And death, whenever he comes to me, Will find me most likely without a fee.

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SONG FOR THE BURGLAR TO HIS “PAL” WHO “PEACHED.”--“Never again with _you_, Robbin’.”

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SUITORS’ SUFFERINGS.--As law is to rheumatism, so is equity to gout. The fusion of law and equity may be said to form the counterpart of rheumatic gout.

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A SPRING CIRCUIT.--Jumping through the hoops held for the riders round a circus.

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SUITABLE SITE FOR A POLICE “COURT.”--The area.

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ON CECIL STREET, STRAND

At the top of the street many lawyers abound, Below, at the bottom, the barges are found: Fly, honesty, fly to a safer retreat, For there’s craft in the river, and craft in the street.

BRADBURY AGNEW & CO LD. PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE.