A Philadelphia Lawyer in the London Courts

by Thomas Leaming

In the House of Lords appeals are equally informal and colloquial, an impression that is heightened by the absence of wigs and gowns, so far as the bench is concerned, and by the very casual manner in which the half dozen gentlemen composing the court are seated. The house itself is a large, oblong chamber with steep tiers of seats, upholstered in red leather, which rise high up the side walls and upon which the peers sit when legislating, but which are, of course, empty when the court only sit. At the far end is an unoccupied throne, while, at the near end, raised above the floor, is a kind of box from which counsel address the court. It is much like the rear platform of one of our street cars. Counsel, of course, are in wig and gown, and if K. C.'s, in full bottomed wigs, but one may occasionally see a litigant actually arguing his own case in propria persona. On either side of the counsel's box is a very narrow standing place for reporters and the public.

The court, consisting of the Lord Chancellor in gown and full bottomed wig, and perhaps of five judges, in ordinary clothing, sit at the floor level, and therefore considerably lower than counsel in the elevated box. They are not placed in a row nor behind any bench or table. On the contrary, though the presiding Lord Chancellor is vis-a-vis to the counsel box, the others sit where they please. Sometimes this is on the front row of benches and sometimes on one of the higher tiers, with a foot propped up, perhaps, on the bench in front, and their thumbs hitched to the armholes of their waist-coats, and, necessarily, with their sides to the speaker. The members of the court often have portable tables in front of them, piled with books and papers. During the course of an argument they constantly debate with each other across the House, or walk over to one of their colleagues with some document or a book and talk of the case audibly and perfectly freely. One may hear one of them, in a salt and pepper suit, call across the floor to another Lord of Appeal who has interrupted a barrister's argument, "I say, can't you give the man a chance to say what he's got to say?"

These little circumstances show that judges and counsel in the appellate courts of England behave as natural men without the slightest restraint, formality or self-consciousness. Arguments are delivered with surprising rapidity of utterance, in a conversational tone, and with a crispness of articulation altogether delightful to the ear. The drawling style of speech sometimes heard on the stage as typical of a certain kind of Englishman, seems to have disappeared in real life; it certainly is not to be found in the Courts. An American stenographer reporting an English argument, would have to increase his accustomed speed at least one-third.

The methods of the Divisional Court are the same as those of the Court of Appeal, but the low limit of its jurisdiction renders it of little interest.

The Judicial Committee of the Privy Council—or, as it is colloquially described by the lawyers, "The Privy Council"—is doubtless the most interesting court in England because of the variety of the questions there considered and owing to the fact that, geographically, the litigations originate in nearly every quarter of the civilized world, for, as noted above, this is the court of last resort for all of the British Colonies. It should not be confused with the Privy Council itself—a political adviser of the Crown—for the Judicial Committee's functions are purely judicial and its personnel consists of the Lord Chancellor and the other Law Lords, a few paid members, and some Ex-Colonial Judges. Historically, indeed, it was but a sub-committee of the Privy Council, which circumstance gives the Court its name and explains why its judgments always conclude with the phrase that the Committee "humbly advises His Majesty" to affirm or reverse the judgment rendered in the Colony, instead of pronouncing the conclusion in direct language, as do other courts.

This extraordinary body sits in a large second story chamber, not in the least resembling a court room, of a building in Downing Street, and rarely is there any audience other than the professional men whose business takes them there.

Of course, most of the Colonies are equipped with their own court of appeals—usually called the Supreme Court—but, nevertheless, an appeal lies from their decisions to the Privy Council in certain circumstances, although to define exactly the scope of this jurisdiction would be too technical for present purposes.

Here are to be found, arguing their cases, lawyers from Colonies in every corner of the globe in some of which the division of the profession into barristers and solicitors hardly exists, or at least, the line separating them is quite hazy—but they must all appear in wig and gown.

Bearing in mind the fact that the Colonies of Great Britain are scattered over the whole world and that it has always been the policy, so far as possible, to accept the existing law of each and graft it upon the English law system, the diversity and broadness of this court's deliberations may be imagined.

The succession to an Indian Principality, to be determined under the ancient law of that far Eastern land, will be followed by a question of the legality of the adoption of a child in South Africa, to be considered under the rules of Dutch law. The next case will, perhaps, involve the effect upon an area much greater than that of all England, of the diversion of a river in the Canadian North-West. And the court may next turn its attention to the problem whether the widow of a Scotchman who left two wills—one intended to operate at home and the other to take effect in Australia—can take her thirds against the will in Scotland but accept the benefits of the other will as to property in Australia.