Showing how the greatest wisdom of Parliament may be thrown away on ungrateful people.

The first skirmish between the two doughty champions of the hostile forces took place over the misdated writ. Judgment was signed for want of appearance; and then came a summons to set it aside. The Judge set it aside, and the Divisional Court set aside the Judge, and the Court of Appeal set aside the Divisional Court upon the terms of the defendant paying the costs, and the writ being amended, &c. &c. And I saw that when the Judge in Chambers had hesitatingly and “not without grave doubt” set aside the judgment, Mr. Prigg said to Mr. Locust, “What a very nice point!” And Mr. Locust replied:

“A very nice point, indeed! Of course you’ll appeal?” And Mr. Quibbler, Mr. Locust’s pleader, said, “A very neat point!”

“Oh dear, yes,” answered Mr. Prigg.

And then Mr. Prigg’s clerk said to Mr. Locust’s clerk—“What a very nice point!” And Mr. Locust’s clerk rejoined that it was indeed a very nice point! And then Mr. Locust’s boy in the office said to Mr. Prigg’s boy in the office, “What a very nice point!” And Mr. Prigg’s boy, a pale tall lad of about five feet six, and of remarkably quiet demeanour, replied—

“A dam nice point!”

Next came letters from the respective Solicitors, suggesting a compromise in such terms that compromise became impossible; each affirming that he was so averse from litigation that almost any amicable arrangement that could be come to would be most welcome. Each required a sum of two hundred pounds and an apology in six morning papers. And I saw at the foot of one of Mr. Prigg’s letters, when the hope of compromise was nearly at an end, these touching words:

“Bumpkin’s blood’s up!”

And at the end of the answer thereto, this very expressive retort:

“You say Bumpkin’s blood is up; so is Snooks’—do your worst!”

As I desire to inform the lay reader as to the interesting course an action may take under the present expeditious mode of procedure, I must now state what I saw in my dream. The course is sinuosity itself in appearance, but that only renders it the more beautiful. The reader will be able to judge for himself of the simple method by which we try actions nowadays, and how very delightful the procedure is. The first skirmish cost Snooks seventeen pounds six shillings and eight-pence. It cost Bumpkin only three pounds seventeen shillings, or one heifer. Now commenced that wonderful process called “Pleading,” which has been the delight and the pride of so many ages; developing gradually century by century, until at last it has perfected itself into the most beautiful system of evasion and duplicity that the world has ever seen. It ranks as one of the fine Arts with Poetry and Painting. A great Pleader is truly a great Artist, and more imaginative than any other. The number of summonses at Chambers is only limited by his capacity to invent them. Ask any respectable solicitor how many honest claims are stifled by proceedings at Chambers. And if I may digress in all sincerity for the purpose of usefulness, I may state that while recording my dream for the Press, Solicitors have begged of me to bring this matter forward, so that the Public may know how their interests are played with, and their rights stifled by the iniquitous system of proceedings at Chambers.

The Victorian age will be surely known as the Age of Pleading, Poetry, and Painting.

First, the Statement of Claim. Summons at Chambers to plead and demur; summons to strike out; summons to let in; summons to answer, summons not to answer; summonses for all sorts of conceivable and inconceivable objects; summonses for no objects at all except costs. And let me here say Mr. Prigg and Mr. Locust are not alone blameable for this: Mr. Quibbler, Mr. Locust’s Pleader, had more to do with this than the Solicitor himself. And so had Mr. Wrangler, the Pleader of Mr. Prigg. But without repeating what I saw, let the reader take this as the line of proceeding throughout, repeated in at least a dozen instances:—

The Judge at Chambers reversed the Master;

The Divisional Court reversed the Judge;

And the Court of Appeal reversed the Divisional Court.

And let this be the chorus:—

“What a very nice point!” said Prigg;

“What a very nice point!” said Locust;

“What a very nice point!” said Gride (Prigg’s clerk);

“What a d--- nice point!” said Horatio! (the pale boy).

Summons for particulars.—Chorus.

Further and better particulars.—Chorus.

Interrogatories—Summons to strike out.—Chorus.

Summons for further and better answers.—Chorus.

More summonses for more, further, better, and all sorts of things.—Chorus.

All this repeated by the other side, of course; because each has his proper innings. There is great fairness and impartiality in the game. Something was always going up from the foot of this Jacob’s ladder called “the Master” to the higher regions called the Court of Appeal. The simplest possible matter, which any old laundress of the Temple ought to have been competent to decide by giving both the parties a box on the ear, was taken before the Master, from the Master to the Judge, from the Judge to the Divisional Court, and from the Divisional Court to the Court of Appeal, at the expense of the unfortunate litigants; while Judges, who ought to have been engaged in disposing of the business of the country, were occupied in deciding legal quibbles and miserable technicalities. All this I saw in my dream. Up and down this ladder Bumpkin and Snooks were driven—one going up the front while the other was coming down the back. And I heard Bumpkin ask if he wasn’t entitled to the costs which the Court gave when he won. But the answer of Mr. Prigg was, “No, my dear sir, the labourer is worthy of his hire.” And I saw a great many more ups and downs on the ladder which I should weary the reader by repeating: they are all alike equally useless and equally contemptible. Then I thought that poor Bumpkin went up the ladder with a great bundle on his back; and his face seemed quite changed, so that I hardly knew him, and I said to Horatio, the pale boy—

“Who is that going up now? It looks like Christian in the Pilgrim’s Progress.”

“Oh, no,” said Horatio, “that’s old Bumpkin—it’s a regler sweater for him, ain’t it?”

I said, “Whatever can it be? will he ever reach the top?”

Here Bumpkin seemed to slip, and it almost took my breath away; whereat the pale boy laughed, stooping down as he laughed, and thrusting his hands into his breeches pockets,

“By George!” he exclaimed, “what a jolly lark!”

“I hope he won’t fall,” I exclaimed. “What has he got on his back?”

“A demurrer,” said Horatio, laughing. “Look at him! That there ladder’s the Judicatur Act: don’t it reach a height? There’s as many rounds in that there ladder as would take a man a lifetime to go up if it was all spread out; it’s just like them fire escapes in reaching up, but nobody ever escapes by it.”

“It will break the poor man’s back,” said I, as he was a few feet from the top. And then in my dream I thought he fell; and the fright was so great that I awoke, and found I was sitting in my easy chair by the fire, and the pipe I had been smoking had fallen out of my hand.

* * * * *

“You’ve been dreaming,” said my wife; “and I fear have had a nightmare.” When I was thoroughly aroused, and had refilled my pipe, I told her all my dream.

Then cried she, “I hope good Mr. Bumpkin will get up safely with that great bundle.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said I, “whether he do or not; he will have to bear its burden, whether he take it up or bring it back. He will have to bring it down again after showing it to the gentlemen at the top.”

“What do they want to see it for?” cried she.

“They have no wish to see it,” I replied; “on the contrary, they would rather not. They will simply say he is a very foolish man for his pains to clamber up so high with so useless a burden.”

“But why don’t they check him?”

“Because they have no power; they look and wonder at the folly of mankind, who can devise no better scheme of amusement for getting rid of their money.”

“But the lawyers are wise people, and they should know better.”

“The lawyers,” said I, “do know better; and all respectable lawyers detest the complicated system which brings them more abuse than fees. They see men, permitted by the law, without character and conscience, bring disgrace on an honourable body of practitioners.”

“But do they not remonstrate?”

“They do, but with little effect; no one knows who is responsible for the mischief or how to cure it.”

“That is strange.”

“Yes, but the time will come when the people will insist on a cheaper and more expeditious system. Half-a-dozen solicitors and members of the junior bar could devise such a system in a week.”

“Then why are they not permitted to take it in hand?”

“Because,” said I, “Old Fogeyism has, at present, only got the gout in one leg; wait till he has it in both, and then Common Sense will rise to the occasion.”

“But what,” quoth she, “is this fine art you spoke of?”

“Pleading!”

“Yes; in what consists its great art?”

“In artfulness,” quoth I.

Then there was a pause, and at length I said, “I will endeavour to give you an illustration of the process of pleading from ancient history: you have heard, I doubt not, of Joseph and his Brethren.”

“O, to be sure,” cried she; “did they not put him in the pit?”

“Well, I believe they put him in the pit, but I am not referring to that. The corn in Egypt is what I mean.”

“When they found all their money in their sacks’ mouths?”

“Exactly. Now if Joseph had prosecuted those men for stealing the money, they would simply have pleaded not guilty, and the case would have been tried without any bother, and the defendants have been acquitted or convicted according to the wisdom of the judge, the skill of the counsel, and the common sense of the jury. But now suppose instead thereof, Joseph had brought an action for the price of the corn.”

“Would it not have been as simple?”

“You shall see. The facts would have been stated with some accuracy and a good deal of inaccuracy, and a good many things which were not facts would have been introduced. Then the defendants in their statement of defence would have denied that there was any such place as Egypt as alleged; [52] denied that Pharaoh was King thereof; denied that he had any corn to sell; denied that the said Joseph had any authority to sell; denied that they or any of them went into Egypt; denied that they ever saw the said Joseph or had any communication with him whatever, either by means of an interpreter or otherwise; denied, in fact, everything except their own existence; but in the alternative they would go on to say, if it should be proved that there was a place called Egypt, a man called Pharaoh, an agent of his called Joseph, and that the defendants actually did go to Egypt, all of which they one and all absolutely deny (as becomes men of honour), then they say, that being large corn-merchants and well known to the said Joseph, the factor of the said Pharaoh, as purchasers only of corn for domestic purposes, and requiring therefore a good sound merchantable article, the said Joseph, by falsely and fraudulently representing that certain corn of which he, the said Joseph, was possessed, was at that time of a good sound and merchantable quality and fit for seed and domestic purposes, by the said false and fraudulent representations he, the said Joseph, induced the defendants to purchase a large quantity thereof, to wit, five thousand sacks; whereas the said corn was not of a good sound and merchantable quality and fit for seed and domestic purposes, but was maggoty from damp, and infected with smut and altogether worthless, as he, the said Joseph, well knew at the time he made the said false representations. The defendants would also further allege that, relying on the said Joseph’s word, they took away the said corn, but having occasion at the inn to look into the said sacks, they found that the said wheat was worthless, and immediately communicated with the said Joseph by sending their younger brother Simeon down to demand a return of the price of the said corn. But when the said Simeon came to the said Joseph the said Joseph caught him, and kicked him, and beat him with a great stick, and had him to prison, and would not restore him to his brethren, the defendants. Whereupon the defendants sent other messengers, and at length, after being detained a long time at the said inn, the said Joseph came down, and on being shown the said corn, admitted that it was in bad condition. Whereupon the defendants, fearing to trust the said Joseph with the said sacks until they had got a return of their said money, demanded that he, the said Joseph, should put the full tale of every man’s money in the sack of the said man; which thing the said Joseph agreed to, and placed every man’s money in the mouth of his said sack. And when the said man was about to reach forth his hand to take his said money, the said Joseph seized the said hand and held him fast—.”

“Stop, stop!” cried my wife; “the said Joseph had not ten hands. You must surely draw the line somewhere.”

“No, no,” said I, “that is good pleading; if the other side should omit to deny it, it will be taken by the rules of pleading to be admitted.”

“But surely you can’t admit impossibilities!”

“Can’t you, though!” cried I. “You can do almost anything in pleading.”

“Except, it seems to me, tell the truth.”

“You mustn’t be too hard upon us poor juniors,” cried I. “I haven’t come to the Counterclaim yet.”

“O don’t let us have Counterclaims,” quoth she; “they can have no claim against Joseph?”

“What, not for selling them smutty wheat?”

“Nonsense.”

“I say yes; and he’ll have to call a number of witnesses to prove the contrary—nor do I think he will be able to do it.”

“I fail now,” said my wife, “to see how this pleading is a fine art. Really, without joking, what is the art?”

“The art of pleading,” said I, “consists in denying what is, and inducing your adversary to admit what isn’t.”