At length there was a consultation, Drs. Addison, Charles Johnson,
Duplex, and F. Hawkins, my cousin, being present.
It was a kind of medical jury which sat upon me. I will pass over details, and come to the conclusion of the investigation. After considering the case, Dr. Addison, who acted as foreman of the jury, said,—
"We find a verdict of 'Guilty,' under mitigating circumstances. The prisoner has not injured himself with intent to do any grievous bodily or mental harm, but he has been guilty of negligence, not having taken due care of himself, and we hope the sentence we are about to pass will act as a warning to him, and deter others from following a like practice. The prisoner is released on bail, to come up for judgment when called upon; and the meaning of that is," said Dr. Addison, "that if you behave yourself you will hear no more of this; but if you return to your former practice without any regard to the warning you have had, you will be promptly called up for judgment, and I need not say the sentence will be proportioned to the requirements of the case. You may now go."
To carry on Dr. Addison's joke, I heartily thanked him for taking my good character into consideration, and practically acquitting me of all evil tendencies. Acting upon his good advice, from that time to this I have never been in trouble again.
Watson, Q.C., afterwards Baron Watson, advised me to take a long rest; but as he was not a doctor of medicine, I did not act upon his advice. A long rest would have killed me much faster than any amount of work, so I worked with judgment; and although my business went on increasing to an extent that would not have pleased Dr. Addison, I suffered no evil effects, but seemed to get through it with more ease than ever, and was soon in a fair way to achieve the greatest goal of human endeavour—a comfortable independence. The reason of getting through so much work was that I had to reject a great deal, and, of course, had my choice of the best, not only as to work, but as to clients. To use a sporting phrase, I got the best "mounts," and therefore was at the top of the record in wins.
Good cases are easy—they do not need winning; they will do their own work if you only leave them alone. Bad cases require all your attention; they want much propping, and your only chance is that, if you cannot win, your opponent may lose.
But nothing in the chatter about the Bar is more erroneous than the talk of the tremendous incomes of counsel. A man is never estimated at his true worth in this world, certainly not a barrister, actor, physician, or writer; and as for incomes, no one can estimate his neighbour's except the Income-tax Commissioners. They get pretty near sometimes, however, without knowing it.
One morning I was riding in the Park when old Sam Lewis, the great money-lender, a man for whom I had much esteem, and about whom I will relate a little story presently, came alongside. We were on friendly and even familiar terms, although I never borrowed any money of him in my life.
"Why, Mr. Hawkins," said he, "you seem to be in almost everything.
What a fortune you must be piling up!"
"Not so big as you might think," I replied.