Graham's Magazine, Vol. XL, No. 3, March 1852

by Various

And what is the result? Just this. That a privileged body, anointed for office and power, who, but for the blindness and prodigal infatuation of the People, would often be the nobodies of every productive or efficient class, are enabled to fare sumptuously every day, wear purple and fine linen—at the expense of others—all their lives long; and to carry off all the honors from every other class of the community. Think of this, I pray you; and bear with me, while I proceed with my demonstration.

That they have learned to reverence themselves, and all that belongs to them, I do not deny; but then, if it is only themselves, and not the image of God—if it is only what belongs to themselves and to their estate, or craft, as lawyers, and not as Men, they so reverence—in what particular do they differ from other self-idolators?

Are We, the People, to be concluded by their very pretensions? Are We to be estopped by the very deportment we complain of? Because they are exacting and supercilious, and self-satisfied, and arrogant, and overbearing, are we to be patient and submissive? Are we to be told, if not in language, at least by the bearing and behavior of these gentry, that, inasmuch as all men may be supposed to be best acquainted with themselves, therefore Lawyers are to be taken by others at their own valuation?

Let it be remembered that they who properly reverence themselves, always reverence others. But who ever heard of a Lawyer with any reverence—worth mentioning—for anybody out of the profession? This, to be sure, is very common with ignorant and presumptuous men. It is the natural growth of a narrow-minded, short-sighted, selfish bigotry. A mountebank or a rope-dancer will betray the same ridiculous self-complacency, if hard pushed. Were you to speak of a great man—Kossuth, for example—in the presence of a fiddler, who had never heard of him before, he would probably crook his right elbow, and cant his head to the left, as if preparing to draw the long bow, or go through some of the motions common to all the great men he had ever been acquainted with, or heard of, or acknowledged, before he questioned you further.

It would never enter his head that a truly great man could be any thing but a fiddler; a Paganini dethroned perhaps—like Peter the Great in a dockyard—or that “any gentleman as was a gentleman,” could ever so far forget himself in his company, as to call a man great who was no fiddler.

“What do they say of me in England?” said the corpulent, half-naked savage that Mungo Park saw stuffing for a cross-examination under a bamboo tree in Africa.

Just so is it with our brethren of the bar. Law being the “perfection of Reason,” and her seat “the bosom of God,” they, of course, are the expounders or interpreters of both; a priesthood from the beginning, therefore, with the privilege and power of indefinite self-multiplication. The sum and substance of all they know, and all they care for under Heaven, if they are greatly distinguished, being Law, what else could be expected of them? If they are great lawyers they are never any thing else—they are never statesmen, they are never orators—they are never writers. Carefully speaking, Daniel Webster is not a great lawyer—nor is Henry Clay—nor was Lord Brougham; but they were advocates, and orators and statesmen. Sir James Scarlett and Denham were great lawyers, before whose technical superiority and sharp practice Lord Brougham quailed and shriveled in the Court of King’s Bench. But when they encountered each other in the House of Commons—what a figure the two lawyers cut, to be sure, in the presence of the thunderer! They were phantoms, and he the Olympian Jove. William Pinkney was a great lawyer; but for that very reason he was out of place in the Senate chamber, and made no figure there.

But even for this they have a justification—or a plea in bar. The law is a “jealous mistress,” we are told, and will endure no rival; a monarch “who bears no brother near the throne.” And well do they act upon this belief; and well do they teach it by precept and by practice; for few indeed are they, even among the foremost, who have gathered up, in the course of a long life, any considerable amount of miscellaneous knowledge, notwithstanding the reputation they sometimes acquire, in a single day, by their insolent questioning of learned, shy and modest professional men, or experts, after they have once got them caged and cornered, and tied up hand and foot in a witness-box, and allowed to speak only when they are spoken to; there to be badgered for the amusement of people outside, more ignorant, if possible, than the learned counsel themselves; but incapable of seeing through the counterfeit, which, while it makes them laugh, makes the “judicious grieve;” and mistaking for cleverness and smartness the blundering audacity of an ignorant and garrulous, though privileged pretender, who does not know that it often requires about as much knowledge of a subject to propound a safe and proper question, as to answer it: nor that the veriest blockhead may ask twenty questions in a breath, which no mortal man could ever answer, and would not even try to answer, unless he were a still greater blockhead.

And now, having swept the stage fore and aft, and secured, as I trust, a patient hearing from the profession, let us go to work in earnest.

I maintain that among the popular delusions of the day, there is no one more dangerous nor alarming than that which leads our People to believe that they constitute a republic and that they govern themselves, merely because they are allowed to choose their own masters; provided they choose them out of a particular class—that of the lawyers.