The Law and the Poor

by Sir Edward Abbott Parry

No doubt it is very unprofessional to make such an agreement, but with the law as it is, and the poor with rights under the law, how on earth are they to get their rights unless there is a speculative solicitor ready to risk a certain amount of out-of-pockets in the hope of getting them back with advantages from Mr. Pickwick? Unless a speculative solicitor is ready to back the poor man’s case with gratuitous services and money enough for counsel’s honorarium, surveyor’s plans, doctor’s and Treasury fees, how can the case be launched at all?

Indeed, could one be certain that such a solicitor never undertook any case unless he was satisfied that his client had right on his side, should we not have to admit that the speculative solicitor was a ministering angel engaged in a practice of delivering the poor that cried, and the fatherless, and him that had none to help him?

And as day by day the poor have more laws made to guide them into the way of righteousness, and more statutes are passed with the intention of making the life of the poor healthier, brighter, and better, and as, moreover, in this imperfect world the servants of the Evil One are always prowling round to cheat the poor of their rights, it would seem to follow that if Law Courts and litigation are to be the order of the day we must each of us have a panel lawyer to whom we can go when we want an injunction and our habeas corpus is not up to the mark.

For years and years there have been speculative doctors. No one thought any the worse of doctors because they founded hospitals and gave their services free of charge and entered a caveat against disease and death without first getting something on account of costs. And why should not we have legal hospitals and out-patient departments attached to the County Court where the house physician is the young man who has taken the best degrees in law and the visiting surgeon is the great leader of the legal profession?

The idea is no more ludicrous in one profession than it is in another. Medicine has its noble traditions of charity. Why should not lawyers set an example of self-sacrifice and unselfishness? Or is there some subtle essence in the law that of necessity destroys the favourable microbes that promote peace and goodwill among men?

We of the long robe of the Inns of Court have always held in theory that we were there to take on the protection of any and every suitor. Please do not think when your attorney asks you for counsel’s fees that you are hiring him by that golden nexus of guineas. By no means. No barrister can stoop to take wages or salary. What you are giving him is a mere gratuity, “which a barrister cannot demand without doing wrong to his reputation.” And, that being so, one might expect some of the wealthier Templars to take the ideal of their profession at its face value and set up to advise and plead for the poor not only without wronging their reputation by demanding a gratuity, but by refusing to accept one.

In a recent case much was said of the noble attitude of Barrister A., who, being a political opponent of Barrister B., appeared for him when he had got into trouble—I use the phrase in no technical sense. Correspondence ensued, and some enthusiasts for the honour of the profession said that every barrister was bound to take up a case if it was offered him. I wonder what would happen if Lazarus went knocking at the doors of Crown Office Row and Pump Court with a claim against Dives, but without a gratuity in his hand? Would he get anyone to advise him on evidence or settle the indorsement on his writ? One never knows.

The atmosphere of our Courts is not all that it should be. I do not refer to the physical fog which pervades them, the smells of which the electric fans blow about the building in the sacred name of ventilation, but the moral atmosphere of our Courts always seems to me to suggest that the law is an appanage of the rich. By all means let us have dignity, decorum, and distinctive dress, but if you go into the High Court, although you may hear the affairs of the poor dealt with sympathetically and in a just spirit, the atmosphere of the Court is well-to-do and prosperous. Everyone connected with the duties seems to belong to the upper middle class. There is no place at all for the working man to play his part except on occasion in the jury box.

And then, if the claim is the claim of a poor man against a rich man, a special jury is empanelled and you get at a greater cost a tribunal of the defendant’s own class to hold the scales of justice. And though I firmly believe that all do their best, and that speaking generally justice is well administered, yet I can quite understand the feeling of a poor man entering a Court of Justice and finding that the judge who lays down the law, the jury who decide the facts, the advocates who argue the case, and the solicitors who instruct the advocates are all drawn from a class of the community which the working man rightly or wrongly believes to be hostile to his outlook on life.

If I have not made myself clear, imagine yourself bringing an action against a trade union, and finding when you came into court that a well-known ex-Labour M.P. was on the bench, that the jury were chosen entirely from the working classes, and that you were only allowed to be represented by a next friend chosen from the ranks of a particular trade union.