They will bear with me, I hope—as I have borne with them for twenty-five years; for, while I complain of their unreasonable ascendency throughout our land, of their imperious, overbearing, unquestioned domination, I acknowledge that, constituted as we are—We, the People—we cannot do without them—and the more’s the pity. Law we must have, and with it, as if by spontaneous generation—lawyers, till Man himself undergoes a transformation, and his very nature is changed. Both are necessary evils—much like war, pestilence, and famine, or lunatic-asylums, poor-houses, and penitentiaries; or apothecaries’ shops, with their adulterous abominations; and every other substitute for, and abridgment of, human liberty, human happiness, the laws of health, or the instinct of self-reliance. If men will not do as they would be done by; if they will not be “temperate in all things”—then they deserve to be drugged, and blistered, and bled here by the doctors, and there by the lawyers, till they have come to their senses, or can no longer be dealt with profitably by either; for, although every man, according to the worthy Joe Miller, may be his own washerwoman—at least in Ireland—it is very clear that in this country, he might as well undertake to be his own jailer, as his own lawyer.
I would go further; for, like the illustrious Hungarian, I desire to conciliate and satisfy, not the few but the many; not only my brethren of the bar, but everybody else worth satisfying; I would even admit—and how could I well go further, and “hope to be forgiven?”—that, in view of Man’s nature, as developed by our social institutions, Law and Lawyers both, may be, and sometimes are, under special circumstances, not only a necessary evil, but a very good thing. There! I have said it—and let them make the most of it. I mean to admit all I can—and much good may it do them! But then, I would ask, if we may not have too much, even of a good thing?
I hold that we may; and I appeal for proof to the countless volumes of law which cannot be understood by any but lawyers; nor by any two of them alike, till every other word, perhaps, in a long paragraph has been settled by adjudication—two or three different ways—after solemn argument.
I appeal to what is called the administration of justice, by jury-trial, in our courts of law, where twelve ignorant, unreasoning men, got together, nobody knows how—hit or miss—are held to be better qualified—being bound by their oaths to think alike in most cases, and to return a unanimous verdict, whether or no—than Lord Chancellor Bacon himself, or Chief Justice Marshall would be, to settle any and every question, however new, and however abstruse and complicated, upon every possible subject that may happen to be brought before them for the first time in all their lives! And this, without any previous knowledge on their parts, or any other preparation by the lawyers who are to enlighten them, than may have been made the night before, by “reading up,” or “stuffing” for the occasion.
I appeal, moreover, to the testimony of the sufferers themselves—parties, they are technically called—who, after being scorched, and sifted, and harassed, and pillaged, under one pretence or another, year after year, and within an inch of their lives; or driven well-nigh distracted by the vicissitudes and anxieties incident to every well-managed law-suit, where “good pickings” are to be had, or by that hope-deferred “which maketh the heart sick,” begin to get their eyes opened, and to see for themselves, and are sometime ready to acknowledge for the help of others, who are elbowing their way up—or down?—to see the elephant, that when they pass over the threshold of those gambling-houses, that are established by law, under the name of Courts of Justice, and put up their stakes, they will find three times out of four—perhaps nineteen times out of twenty—that when the raffle comes off at last—with the jury-box—it is to decide, not which of the two parties litigant—plaintiffs or defendants—but what third party—the lawyers—shall sweep the board.
And I might appeal to the swarming thousands of our younger professional brethren, who, ashamed to beg, afraid to steal, and too lazy to work, instead of following the business of their fathers, taking their places, and maintaining themselves honestly, give way to a foolish mother, or sister, or to some greater simpleton still more to be pitied, or to a most unhealthy ambition—that of being an Esquire, and a pauper, with very white hands, who, having studied law, will have to be provided for at last by marriage, or office; and with that view have literally taken possession of our high places, our kneading-troughs and our bed-chambers—after the fashion of their predecessors in Egypt.
Nay, more—I am ready to acknowledge, and I do for myself, my executors, administrators and assigns—or publishers—hereby acknowledge, and I hope with no unbecoming nor uncourteous qualification, that, taken together, as a power, body, or estate, the Lawyers of our land are to the full as honest—and as trustworthy—by nature—as any other power, body or estate among us, of equal numbers, wealth, dignity, or intelligence; notwithstanding the opinion so generally entertained, and so often expressed, to their disadvantage, in the plays and farces, or newspapers and story-books of the day, (not always, nor altogether synonymous, I hope;) but no honester, and no more trustworthy; for, although I believe—and I mean just what I say—that no great advocate, in the popular sense of the words, can be an honest man, however conscientious he may be out of court, or in other business; and however anxious he and others may be to distinguish between the Advocate and the Man—as if a lawyer were allowed two consciences to practice with, and two courts—one above and the other below—to practice in; yet I believe that a great Lawyer, or Jurist, like Sir Matthew Hale, or Chief Justice Marshall, or Chancellor Kent, or any one of a score that might be named, or Judge Parsons, being translated to the bench, from the corrupting influences and stifling atmosphere below, may be a very honest man; just as I believe—and I don’t care who knows it—that silver spoons and watches left within striking distance of an attorney at law—I am only supposing a case—may be safe, “notwithstanding and nevertheless.”
By nature, I say, and not by education, habit, or association at the bar. Away from the bar, I acknowledge the integrity of my brethren as equal to that of any other class whatever. And this being admitted—what more would they have? Would they claim to be honester and more trustworthy than any other class, either by education or nature?
But observe; though ready to acknowledge their honesty, by nature, as men; or rather, while I acknowledge that they are, to the full, as honest as other men are by nature—but no honester; and as trustworthy in all other relations, apart from law—as good but no better, I maintain that they are constantly exposed to such disqualifying temptations, and to such disastrous influences peculiar to their profession; that they have established a code of morals for themselves, as lawyers, which would not be allowed to them as citizens; and which, if openly avowed and persisted in, by brethren out of the profession, would be sure to send them to the penitentiary; that they have altogether too much power in this country—a power out of all proportion to their numbers, their talents, their intelligence, their virtues, and their usefulness; and that, instead of being chosen for lawgivers throughout our land, in a proportion varying from three-fifths to nearly seven-eighths, in all our legislative bodies, they are the very last persons among us to be intrusted with the business of legislation—having a direct personal interest in multiplying our laws—in altering them—and in making them unintelligible to all the rest of the world.
Not satisfied with their pay, as legislators, for making the law, varying from two to ten dollars a-day—with washing and mending, where washing and mending are possible—they require, as lawyers, from twenty-five to one hundred dollars a-day for telling, or rather for guessing what it means.