No one can be a Judge, nor a High-Caste Lawyer, who does not wear the wig. It has a funny appendage behind, like a pig's tail, exactly fitting to fall upon the small of the neck; and is itself a curiously curled "frizzle" of horsehair, selected for uniformity of whitish colour. There is something cabalistic in this thing, which is carefully hidden from the outside world.
If a Judge take it off, all business immediately stops. A Lawyer instantly loses his power of speech if his wig fall off. It was told me in confidence, that the tail (like that of swine) had a peculiar significance, to say; the utter selfishness of the Caste and greed—another whispered a darker thing, referred to the Devil of the Superstition: that, anciently, this Caste struck a bargain with the Demon, and he made it obligatory upon the Lawyers always to wear this chief sign of diabolism! This may be merely the chaff [pti-ni] of these Barbarians. At any rate, something occult is attached to the thing; and a curious respect is shown to it, mixed of fear and contempt, even by outsiders.
The Judge sits so highly exalted, as to be out of the way of hearing the passages occurring among the Lawyers. He is generally half-blind, half-deaf; quite worn out with age, and the ceaseless wretchedness of his Court and the Lawyers, and incapable of vigorously dealing with anything. In this Court the most imbecile is most fit; for nothing is expected but imbecility (so far as the public is concerned), and fees for Officers and Lawyers.
When a Case is on, the Lawyers begin to talk, and to read from the big books, on one side, and then on the other. Neither tries to get at the truth, but each in turn does his best to mislead the Judge. Both read from the interminable and conflicting Records, and both find ample records which fit the precise Case, which each contends for. The poor old Judge, now and again, takes a note of these quotations from the Big Books of records—for he is to decide not upon the equity but upon the records, as we have seen. By the time he has found his spectacles [Qu-iei] he has forgotten the Book, the number, the Recorder's name, and the many other things, needful to find where the record is, and when he is again told, lifting up his wig-pallet, he only hears imperfectly, and mistakes. So, when, perhaps a long time after, he tries to make up a decree to fit the Case, the record to which he turns refers to nothing in the world like what was intended!
Hour after hour, and sometimes day after day, these speeches of the Lawyers go on. For the longer the talk the larger the fees—nobody thinks of Justice! The old Judge understands the trick of the farce going on, perfectly well; in his younger days he was famous for his skill in all the arts of the High-Caste Lawyers, and obtained his present position on that account, and because others wanted to get a formidable rival out of the way; he understands how very little (but fees) is involved in the endless talk and reading, and begins to nod—even, the gods would nod. The Lawyer observes, stops a bit; the unexpected silence awakens the wearied old man—he opens his watery, blinking eyes, fumbles his papers, or takes a pinch of snuff, and says: "Go on, brother Bounce, I'm with you"—meaning he is attending to him; and soon falls asleep again.
Perhaps one of the talking Lawyers is of the High Q.C. I am told that such is the dread of this Lawyer-Caste, that the Sovereign constantly flatters the tribe, and gives to them the fattest [phig-sti] offices. All Judges and the Keeper of the Sovereign's Conscience—this Court—and a great many other most important places, and exaltation to the Highest Caste of Lords [Tchou], falls to them by established rule—in truth, the Caste is chief in the Law-making Houses, and, consequently, in Government itself. The Q.C. is, however, a thing done to many who cannot, as yet, get fees from the public treasure, that they may get them from out-siders more amply. The right to attach these symbols to the name of Lawyer also gives him a silk gown (during the present reign) worked by the sacred hands of Royalty itself! The honoured wearer of this is a Q.C.—that is, Queen's Champion—and binds all its wearers to defend the Sacred Head (Pope) of the Superstition from the machinations of the Evil One, and those of their own order who, sold to the Devil, may possibly be put up by him to plot mischief, not only against the general outside world, but against "Crown and Altar!"
Perhaps, after days of this weary work, one of the Lawyers suddenly discovers that somebody, or something required in the intricate and dubious processes, is wanting; or in some document some erasure is detected; or something to hang a point upon is seized hold of—and at once a wrangle between the Lawyers ensues. The Judge fairly awakes; the whole case breaks down [kei-tz-se]; and everybody, but the poor victims in the case, anticipate more fees. The victims, however, who have already beggared themselves in it, suddenly despair; perhaps the case never again comes on, and the property involved in it wastes away in dark obscurity beneath the gnawing rats, which infest the Court.
Sometimes (as I was told) some poor man, or woman, who had scraped together the last farthings to pay the Lawyers (for they will in no wise act unless paid beforehand, feeling that such service as they render is not likely to be gratefully recompensed, and it being the severest rule of the order never to show any pity for outsiders), being in Court when they see all hope destroyed, and themselves and their children beggared, have fallen down and been carried out of Court with reason for ever gone; or with such a deadly blow that never more do they revive, but soon die, and are buried at the public charge!
You will see wretched creatures trying to look decent in well-brushed rags, darned and patched, with shoes through which the toes protrude, but over which the blacking [di-yte] is carefully smeared—you will see these victims of the Court, like ghosts, flitting about the passages, and watching for the entry of the Judge. One will attempt to address him—but he is conveniently deaf. He knows the victim is there, and though a party may speak, has the right to speak for himself, and the Judge is bound to hear, yet, such a thing is unknown. The mysteries of the Court deny to any sane man the attempt. These poor creatures are insane—or, what answers just as well, have been branded by the Lawyers as Insane. So the miserable wretch, trembling, raises his voice, "My Lud" (meaning my Lord), "My Lud;" here the Court-officer cries out Silence; or, if the man be, for the first time, attempting to call attention to his case, by the time he has got so far as to fairly say "My Lud!" what with the jeering looks of the Lawyers, his own ignorance of the mysteries, and his wretchedness, he either completely breaks down—or if the Judge, seeing a new face, asks him to "go on"—almost at once perceives that the man is only a "poor ruined suitor," and is entirely out of order, and cannot be heard! He says: "You must sit down. Case Hoggs v. Piggs is in order. Mr. Clerk call Hoggs and Piggs." Thus "My Lud" will be as far as any "poor ruined suitor will ever get!"