Punch (99.1890)

October 11, 1890.] PUNCH, OE THE LONDON

CHARIVARI.

177

MOSSOO IN EGYPT.

Mr. Punch {to French Guardian of Egyptian Monuments). " Comb, I say, Sir !

do you call this looking after the monuments ? wake up, or you 'll
have to go i "—See " Times " Leader, Oct. 3rd.

JOURNAL OF A ROLLING STONE.
Seventh Entry.

To my intense surprise-shared, as far as I can see, by all my friends and
relatives—I have managed to pass the " Bar Final" ! I attribute the portentous
fact to the Examiners having discreetly avoided all reference to the "Rule in
Shelley's Case."

Find that the Students who are going to be "called within the Bar," have
to oe presented to the Benchers on one special evening, after dinner, in Hall.
Ceremony rather funereal, at my Inn—but not the same at all Inns. About
twenty of us summoned one by one to the High Table; several go up before
me, and as there is a big screen I can't see what happens to them. Only—
most remarkable circumstance this— not one of them comes back! Have the
Benchers decided to sternly limit the numbers of the Profession ? Perhaps
they are " putting in an execution." Just thinking of escape, when my name
called out. March up to Table, determined not to perish without a tpirited
resistance.

To complete the idea of its being an Execution, here is the Chaplain ! "Will
he say a "few last words" to the culprit—myself—-prior to my being pinioned ?

As matter of fact, Bencher at head of Table (portly old gentleman, who looks
as if he might be described as a " bottle-a-day-of-port-ly " old gentleman) shakes
hands, coldly, and that's all. Not even a Queen's Shilling given me, as I am
conducted off to another table close by.

MyBtery of disappearance of other candidates explained. Here they are—
all at this table—" all silent, and all called"! It seems that this is the
Barristers' part of the Hall, other the Students'.

Ceremony not over yet. After dinner we are invited, all twenty, to dessert
and wine with the Benchers—or rather, at the Benchers' expense, because we
don't really see and chat with these great men, only a single representative,
who presides at table in a long bare room downstairs, resembling a cellar.
Benchers' own Common-room above. Why don't they invite us up there ?

Bencher, who has come down to preside over this entertainment, has a rather
forbidding air about him. Seems to be thinking—" I don't oare much for this
sort of function. Stupid old custom. But must keep it up, I suppose, for good
of Inn; and Benchers (hang them!) have deputed me to take head of the table
to-night—probably because I look so desperately lively."

There is a sort of "disinterred liveliness" (to quote Bishop Wilberforce)

about him, after all. Tries to joke. No doubt regards us
all as a pack of fools to join over-crowded profession—
still, as we are here, he will try and forget that, in a few
years, the majority of us will probably be starving.

After an interval. Bored Bencher thinks it necessary
to rise and make little speech. Assures us (Query—
hyprocrisy P) that we are all extremely likely to attain
to high positions at the Bar. Says something feebly
humorous about Woolsack. Bad taste, because we can't
all sit on "Woolsack at once; and mention of it excites
feelings of emulation, almost of animosity, towards other
new-liedged Barristers. I am conscious, for instance, of
distinct repulsion towards man on my right, who is
cracking nuts, and who must be a son or nephew of our
Chairman, judging by the familiarity with which he
treats latter. Probably his uncle will flood him with
briefs—and that will be called "making his own way
in the world." Pshaw I

"Wine-and-dessert entertainment only lasts an hour.
Forbidding Bencher evidently feels that an hour is as
much as he can possibly stand. So we all depart, except
the favoured nephew (or son), who, as I suspeot,
"remains to prey" on his uncle (or father), and pro-
bably to be invited in to the real feast which no doubt
the Inn worthies are enjoying upstairs.

Next morning meet a legal friend, who asks, " "When
are you to be presented at Court ? "

" Presented at Court?"—I ask in surprise.

"Yes-Court of Queen's Bench—ha! ha! You'll
have to go one of these days in wig and gown to the
0.. B. D., and inscribe your name in a big book, and
bow to the Judges, and come out."

'' What's the good of doing that ? " I want to know.

" None whatever. An old custom, that's all. A sort
of legal fiction, you know." (Query—If a Queen's
Counsel writes a novel, isn't that a real legal fiction ?)
"You'll feel rather like a little boy going to a new
school. Judges look at you with an air of 'I say, you
new feller, what's your name? Where do you come
from ? What House are you in ?—then a good kick.
They can't kick you, so they glare at you instead.
Interesting ceremony. Ta, ta 1"

It turns out as my friend says. But previously there
is the other little formality of purchasing the trailing
garments of the Profession. Go to a wig-and-gown-
maker near the Law Courts. Ask to see different kinds
of wigs,

"We only make one kind," replies the wig-man,
pityingly. "The Patent Yentilating Anticalvitium.
Tou '11 find it as light as a feather, almost. Made of
superfine 'orse-'air." He says this as if he never got
his material from anything below the value of a Derby
Winner.

" Why do you call it the Anticalvitium ? " I ask.

" Because it don't make the 'air fall off, Sir, as all
other wigs do."

Do they ? Another objection to the profession. Wish
I had known this before I began to grind for the Bar
Exam. Wig-man measures my head.

" Rather large size, Sir," he remarks. Says it as if
I must have water on the brain at the very least.
"Middle Temple, I suppose?"—he queries. Why?
Somehow it would sound more flattering if he had
supposed Inner Temple, instead of Middle. Wonder if
I shall ever be described as an " Outer barrister, of the
Inner Temple, with Middling abilities." Is there a
special cut of face belonging to the Inner Temple,
another for the Middle (there is a "middle cut" in
salmon, why not in the law ?) and a third for Lincoln's Inn ?

Find, while I am meditating these problems, that I
have been " suited" with a gown, also with a stock of
ridiculous little linen flaps, which are called "bands."
Think about "forbidding the bands," but don't know
how to.__

note for the new unionism.
" Union is Strength." Let lovers of communion
Remember Strength (of language) is not Union I

New Definition op a " Feather-Bed Fighter."—
A Boxer with gloves over four ounces in weight. And
anything over that, we suppose, must be considered a
" feather-weight." This gives a new significance to the
saying, "You might have knocked, me down with a
feather."