In the Superior Courts this would have been no excuse. The man would probably have gone to prison, leaving his wife and family upon the parish. But here that novel sentiment in law proceedings—sympathy—peeped forth.
“I believe this man would pay,” said the Barrister, “if possible. But he has lost everything in the world. At present I shall make no order.”
It did not appear to me that the plaintiffs generally in this Court were anxious to press very hardly upon defendants. Indeed it would be bad policy to do so. Give a man time, and he can often meet demands that it would be impossible for him to defray if pressed at once.
“Immediate execution” in this Court, seemed to be payment within a fortnight. An order to pay in weekly installments is a common mode of arranging a case, and as it is usually made by agreement between the parties, both of them are satisfied. In fact, the rule of the Court seemed not dissimilar from that of trades-people who want to do a quick business, and who proceed upon the principle that “No reasonable offer is refused.”
I had been in the Court sufficiently long to make these and other observations, when Mr. Ficker introduced me to the clerk. On leaving the Court by a side-door, we repaired to Mr. Nottit’s room, where we found that gentleman (an old attorney) prepared to do the honors of “a glass of sherry and a biscuit.” Of course the conversation turned upon “the County Court.”
“Doing a pretty good business here?” said Mr. Ficker.
“Business—we’re at it all day,” replied Mr. Nottit. “I’ll show you. This is an account of the business of the County Courts in England and Wales in the year 1848—the account for 1849 is not yet made up.”
“Take six months, I suppose, to make it,” said Mr. Ficker, rather ill-naturedly.
“Total ‘Number of Plaints or Causes entered,’ ” read the clerk, “427,611.”
“Total amount of money sought to be recovered by the plaintiffs,” continued Mr. Nottit, “£1,346,802.”