[3] I mean no personal disrespect to Mr. Bell, whose superior talents I freely acknowledge; but such are the opinions of most counsel, and on such precious morsels of indecision are founded chancery suits without number.
[4] This is a scene from Lincolns Inn. There is not a draftsman or solicitor, that will not feel the truth of it; the one with conscious shame, the other with that bitterness of spirit, arising from the recollection of repeated disappointments of a similar nature to those described.
[5] It is this demand of “money on account” that first removes the film from the eyes of the unhappy client. He then discovers the full horror of his situation. Expenses have been incurred, and to retreat will involve him in a certain loss. He therefore determines to proceed, but with terror in his looks, and despair at his heart.
[6] All chancery writs are sealed, which, being a mere matter of form, is done in a moment. Certain days, however, are appointed for this ceremony, and should any pressing business occur at any other time, it is necessary to pay a fee of two guineas to open the seal, as it is called.
[7] I recommend no man to attach his adversary for want of appearance or answer—let a defendant take his own time. The allowed costs of an attachment are somewhere about eight shillings and two pence, upon tendering which sum the defendant is entitled to be discharged from his contempt, although the plaintiff may have incurred an expense of 20l. in executing the process, and carrying his opponent to goal. Another instance of the propriety with which this court is denominated a “court of equity.”
[8] Should a solicitor be negligent in his business, the clerk in court will amuse himself for years with handing alternative notes of “Answer or Attachment” to the adverse clerk in court, without the least probability of any attention ever being paid to them. In every case this ridiculous courtesy is productive of much unnecessary delay. The order for time is equally useless and absurd. A defendant in a country cause is entitled as of course to two; one for six weeks, and another for a month. Why could he not be allowed to claim the time he is thus entitled to without this mummery and expense.
[9] An ingenious draftsman, well versed in all the dilatory knowledge necessary to protract a suit—the uncle, I believe, of the notorious Edward Gibbon Wakefield!
[10] James Lowe of Southampton Buildings, Chancery Lane, a well-known solicitor, very fond of drawing his own pleadings, but which, it is said, he cannot often get counsel to sign. Koe obliges him occasionally with his sign manual, but I have understood that this gentleman’s conscience is too tender on some occasions to give perfect satisfaction.
[11] To whom is the ignorant and blustering Francis Cross unknown; once captain of Militia, now master in chancery? His qualifications for the latter office are said to have been discovered by the late Lord Chancellor in the gallant exertions he displayed in assisting his Lordship and Lady Eldon out of the kennel, in which a broken down carriage had left them sprawling. Any scavenger would have done as much. Gratitude on this occasion really carried his Lordship too far, but as the only instance on record of any thing like feeling in his character, it is well worthy of admiration. The military genius of Captain Cross still displays itself in the repeated vollies of fire, ending in smoke, with which he attacks all those who have courage enough to dispute his erroneous opinions.
[12] Samuel Compton Cox,—a worthy man, but one who lets his passions outstrip his judgment. The slightest observation will often give offence, and anger renders him deaf to all reason and argument.