“You see, sir, Mr. Lamb is obliged,” said this enthusiastic student of matrimonial difficulties, “Mr. Lamb is obliged to teach ’em how to take it out in sobbing, and then there’s always the chance of their over-doing it when they once begin. More way with the jury—worse luck with the bench.”
This appeared to me a very matter-of-fact and disagreeable view of the question; but as the young gentleman had been exceedingly obliging in pointing out to me the wonders of the Court, I thought it better not to insist with him on the propriety of greater earnestness in speaking of these distressing cases. Finally, he showed me the spot where my friend Lamb was in the habit of placing his injured client when the leading counsel was opening the story of her agony to the Jury. As it seemed only fair that the gentlemen who were to decide upon her fate should have the opportunity of observing her demeanour upon so trying an occasion, Mr. Lamb used to place his client in full sight of the jury during the opening address; whilst she herself was under examination she sate upon the Bench; then his usual habit was to place her by the side of the jury-box, out of ken of the jury, but in full sight of the Court, with general directions to stand up during the examinations in chief on her own side, but to sit during the cross-examinations, so that she could not be seen. When the Respondent’s case was brought on, the process was reversed. The lady then retired from public view during the opening address and the examinations in chief, but revealed herself during the cross-examinations. There were, of course, many fine distinctions, when exceptions were made to these general rules; as, for example, if a maid had turned against her mistress, or the husband was hinting a suspicion at her perfect propriety of conduct, on which occasions my friend Lamb had often, and with success, practised the tactics of the great Lord Nelson. “Win all, or lose all,” he used to say on such occasions, “I make the signal for the lady to rise, and let Nature have her way. Women are surprising creatures, sir. I have seldom known them to fail me at a pinch; and I’ve seen them many a time fling the oldest hands at the Bar on their backs like so many turtle,—when they had winning cards in their hands, too.”
Lamb had evidently made human nature his study.
Whilst I was looking round, the barristers were hurrying into Court; and, situated where I was, I could not help gathering scraps of their conversation. I confess that, on the whole, I was considerably shocked at the levity of their remarks. One young gentleman, who, despite of his robes, appeared to me far too youthful to take part in the discussion of differences so serious, and so pregnant with the misery or happiness of families as these, observed to a friend that Barber and Barber was likely to prove unusually “spicy!” Could a look have brought him to a sense of his situation, and of the gravity of the interests concerned—he had it from me. Then the talk began to smack of the stables, for Mr. Barber, as it appeared, was connected with the turf. Then, “what sort of looking woman was Mrs. Barber?” These irreverent boys would soon see, and learn to respect outraged innocence in the person of that injured lady. There was a striking difference between the appearance of the professional gentlemen who—to judge by the papers they spread out before them—had some share in the business in hand. The more dogged-looking and thick-set men were, as Mr. Lamb’s clerk informed me, “importations from the Common-Law Courts:” the blander and more feeble ones “the old hands from the Commons, and wasn’t it fun to see Sir Cresswell flinging them over.” This young gentleman had an odd notion of fun. Who was that Q. C. who had entered and quitted the court half-a-dozen times, as if he was overwhelmed with business, and was trying to be in half-a-dozen places at a time? “That was Mr. Muddle, who was in Thoper and Thoper,—but, Lord! sir,” added the clerk, “he hasn’t got his foot in here yet. He’s just doing the regular business, like the Doctors when they get themselves called out of church during the Lessons.” At this moment there was a call for silence. The Bar rose, and the three Judges entered—here was Sir Cresswell at last. They took their seats—Sir Cresswell in the middle—and the business began.
After leave had been asked and given to “mention” a few cases, Thoper v. Thoper and Boggs was called on. Sir Cresswell tried the case, and contrived to pour daylight in a very few words upon many points where the learned gentlemen concerned had thrown a thick haze over the proceedings. I always observed that a look of unusual politeness stole over the face of that learned functionary just as he was about to administer a body-blow to a gasping civilian, and he contrived to deliver it in a way that conveyed to your mind the idea that the recipient was quite enjoying the joke. I was told that his fault, as a Judge, was that he was apt to display impatience; but I can only say that I saw him put out but once, and that was when the learned civilian, who was conducting the cross-examination, asked a good many questions as to whether two eggs of which, as it was alleged, Captain Boggs had partaken upon a particular occasion were poached or fried. The point at issue was as to the identity of Captain Boggs. After this had gone on for a time Sir Cresswell certainly did observe, with something like a growl, “The question, Dr. Dolly, is not as to the identity of the eggs, but the identity of the Co-Respondent.” To be sure the point about the eggs did not seem very material. On the whole, I could not help thinking that if I had right on my side I should be well enough content to leave my case in Sir Cresswell’s hands.
But as for the particular case of Thoper v. Thoper and Boggs, if it could be at all accepted as a sample of the ordinary business of the court, I am sorry for any gentleman who is, by his duty, compelled to sit and listen to such tissues of filth and abomination. If glasses of brandy-and-water had been served out all round, and the three Judges had lighted up three clays, and in the various intervals the gentleman at the table with the