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becoming so specially tolerant, that no novel or poem seems likely to attract the enlightened public just now, unless it dabbles with some dirt about the seventh commandment. Whenever Mr. Helps touches—and he often touches – on the relations between men and women, and on love, and the office of love in forming the human character, he does so with a purity and with a chivalry which is becoming, alas! more and more rare. In one of his latest books, for instance, “ Casimir Maremma," there is a love scene which, at least to the mind of an elderly man, not blasé with sensation novels, rises to high pathos. And yet the effect is not produced by any violence of language or of incident, but by quiet and subtle analysis of small gestures, small circumstances, and emotions which show little, if at all, upon the surface.

This analytic faculty of Mr. Helps's is very powerful. It has been sharpened, doubtless, by long converse with many men and many matters; but it must have been strong from youth; strong enough to have been dangerous to any character which could not keep it in order by a still stronger moral sense. We have had immoral analysis of character enough, going about tho world of late, to be admired as all tours de force are admired. There have been, and are still, analysts who, in the cause of art, as they fancy, pick human nature to pieces merely to show how crimes can be committed. There have been analysts who, in the cause of religion, as they fancied, picked human nature to pieces, to show how damnable it is. There hi ve been those again, who in the cause of science, as they fancied, picked it to pieces to show howanimal it is. Mr. Helps analyses it to show how tolerable, even loveable, it is after all, and how much more tolerable and loveable it might become by the exercise of a little common sense and charity. Let us say rather of that common sense which is charity, or at least is impossible without it; which comprehends, because it loves; or if it cannot altogether love, can at least pity or deplore.

It is this vein of wise charity, running through all which Mr. Helps has ever

written, which makes his books so wholesome to the student of his fellowmen ; especially wholesome, I should think, to ministers of religion. That, as the wise Yankee said, “It takes all sorts to make a world;" that it is not so easy as we think to know our friends from our foes, the children of light from those of darkness; that the final distinction into “righteous” and “wicked” requires an analysis infinitely deeper than any we can exercise, and must be decided hereafter by One before whom our wisdom is but blindness, our justice but passion; that in a word, “ Judge not, and ye shall not be judged,” is a command which is founded on actual facts, and had therefore better be obeyed : all this we ministers of religion are but too apt to ignore, and need to be reminded of it now and then, by lay-sermons from those who have not forgotten—as we sometimes forget—that we too are men.

And it seems to me, that a young clergyman, wishing to know how to deal with his fellow-creatures, and not having made up his mind, before all experience, to stretch them all alike upon Some Procrustean bed of discipline (Church or other), would do well to peruse and ponder, with something of humility and self-distrust, a good deal which Mr. Helps has written. Let him read, for instance, the first half of “Essays written in the Intervals of Business," and if he does not at first appreciate the wisdom and worth of much therein, let him set down his disappointment, not to any dulness of the author's, but to his own ignorance of the world and of mankind : that is, of the very subject-matter which he has vowed to work on, and to improve.

I would ask him, for instance, toconsider such a passage as this :-“We are all disposed to dislike, in a manner disproportionate to their demerits, those who offend us by pretensions of any kind. We are apt to fancy that they despise us; whereas, all the while, perhaps, they are only courting our admiration. There are people who wear the worst part of their characters outwards; they offend our vanity; they rouse our fears; and under these influences we omit to consider how often a scornful man is tender-hearted, and an assuming man, one who longs to be popular and to please.”

I would ask the young man, too, to read much of “Friends in Council,” not merely the essays, but the conversations also. For in them, too, he will chance on many a wise apophthegm which will stand him in good stead in his daily work. Especially would I ask him to read that chapter on “ Pleasantness ;" and if he be inclined to think it merely a collection of maxims, acute enough, but having no bearing on Theology or on higher Ethics, let him correct his opinion by studying the following passage concerning a certain class of disagreeable people :

“ After much meditation on them, I have come to the conclusion that they are, in general, self-absorbed people. Now to be self-absorbed is a very different thing from being selfish, or of a hard nature. Such persons, therefore, may be very kind, may even be very sensitive ; but the habit of looking at everything from their own point of view, of never travelling out of themselves, prevails even in their kindest and most sympathetic moments; and 50 they say and do the most unfeeling things without any ill intention whatsoever. They are much to be pitied as well as blamed ; and the end is, that they seldom adopt ways of pleasantness, until they are beaten into them by a long course of varied misfortune, which enables them to look at another's grief and errors from his own point of view, because it has become their own.”

Full of sound doctrine are those words; but, like much of Mr. Helps's good ad vice on this and on other subjects, not likely to be learned by those who need it most, till they have been taught them by sad experience.

And for this reason : that too many of us lack imagination, and have, I suppose, lacked it in all ages. Mr. Helps puts sound words into Midhurst's mouth upon this very matter, in the conversation which follows the essay. It enables, according to him, a man “on all occasions to see what is to be said and

thought for others. It corrects harshness of judgment and cruelty of all kinds. I cannot imagine a cruel man imaginative; and I suspect that there is a certain stupidity closely connected with all prolonged severity of word, or thought, or action.”

No doubt: but what if it be said in defence of the stupid and cruel, that imagination is a natural gift ; and that they therefore are not to be blamed for the want of it? That, again, it would doubtless be very desirable that every public functionary, lay or clerical, should possess a fair share of imagination ; enough at least to put himself in the place of some suitor, whose fate he seals with “a clerk's cold spurt of the pen : " but that imagination is a quality too undefinable and transcendental to be discovered-at least the amount of it -by any examination, competitive or other ?

The answer is, I think, to be found in Mr. Helps's own example. The imagination, like other faculties, grows by food ; and its food cannot be too varied, in order that it may assimilate to itself the greatest number of diverse elements. Whatever natural faculty of imagination Mr. Helps may have had, it has evidently been developed, strengthened, and widened, by most various reading, various experience of nen and things. The number and the variety of facts, objective and subjective, touched in his volumes is quite enormous. His mind has plainly been accustomed to place itself in every possible attitude, in order to catch every possible ray of light. The result is, that whenever he looks at a thing, though he may not always—who can, in such a mysterious world ?- see into the heart of it, he at least sees it all round. He has acquired a sense of proportion ; of the relative size and shape of things, which is the very foundation of all just and wise practical thought about them.

And this is what young men, setting out as thinkers, or as teachers, are naturally apt to lack. They are inclined to be bigots or fanatics, not from conceit or stupidity, but simply from ignorance. Their field of vision is too narrow; and

a single object in it is often sufficient to more young men taking orders without intercept the whole light of heaven, and having had a sound classical education, so become an eidôlon-something wor- and more and more young men so overshipped instead of truth, and too often worked by parish duty, as to have really at the expense of human charity. In no time left for study. Under the prethe young layman there is no cure, it is sent mania for over-working everybody, said, for such a state of mind, like the. such Churchmen as the seventeenth House of Commons; and in default of and eighteenth centuries saw-literary, that, good company, in the true sense of philosophic, scientific, generally human the word. Mr. Helps makes no secret, and humane-are becoming more and throughout his pages, of what he owes more impossible; while a priesthood such to the society of men of very varied as may be seen in more than one country opinions and temperaments, as able as, of Europe, composed of mere profesor abler than himself. But all have not sionals, busy, ambitious, illiterate, is his opportunities; and least of all, per- becoming more and more possible. haps, we of the clerical profession, who One remedy, at least, is this, that need them most, not only bocause we more varied culture should be insisted have to influence human hearts and on, by those who have the power to heads of every possible temper, and in insist; that if not a sound knowledge of every possible state, but because the very the best classic literature, at least a sound sacredness of our duties, and our con knowledge of the best English, should viction of the truth of our own teaching, be demanded of young clergymen. Let tempt us—paradoxical, as it may seem such a one have—say only his Shaketowards a self-confident, blind, and harsh speare—at his fingers' ends, and he will routine. What is the young clergyman's find his visits in the parish, and his cure? How shall he keep his imagina- sermon in the pulpit also, all the more tive sympathy strong and open ?

full of that “ Pleasantness,” which is, Certainly, by much varied reading to tell the truth, nothing less than The study of the Greek and Latin Divine “Charity." classics has helped, I believe, much in making the clergy of the Church of Such are a few of the thoughts which England what they are—the most liberal suggested themselves to me while readminded priesthood which the world has ing Mr. Helps's later books, and reyet seen. The want of it has certainly reading, with an increasing sense of helped to narrow the minds of Non- their value- several of his earlier ones. conformists. A boy cannot be brought If those thoughts have turned especially up to read of, and to love, old Greeks towards the gentlemen of my own cloth, and Romans, without a vague, but deep and their needs, it has been because I feeling, that they, too, were men of like found Mr. Helps's Essays eminently full passions, and it may be sometimes of of that “sweetness and light,” which like virtues, with himself; and he who Mr. Matthew Arnold tells is so necessary has learnt how to think and how to for us all. Most necessary are they cerknow, from Aristotle and Plato, will tainly, for us clergymen; and yet they have a far juster view of the yastness are the very qualities which we are most and importance of the whole human likely to lose, not only froin the hurry race and its strivings after truth, than he and worry of labour, but from the very who has learnt his one little lesson about importance of the questions on which we man and the universe from the works of have to make up our minds, and the one or two Divines of his own peculiar hugeness of the evils with which we school. He will be all the more inclined have to fight. And thankful we should to be just to the Mussulman, the Hindoo, be to one who, amid toil no less conthe Buddhist, from having learnt to be tinuous and distracting than that of any just to those who worshipped round the active clergyman, has not only preserved Capitol or the Acropolis. One sees, sweetness and light himself, but has therefore, with much regret, more and taught the value of them to others.

THE LEGAL PROFESSION IN AMERICA.

BY JAMES BRYCE.

Among English institutions there is per- that it held at home, not so much owing haps none more curiously and dis- to any deliberate purpose on the part of tinctively English than our bar, with its those who led and ruled the new comstrong political traditions, its aristocratic munities (for the Puritan settlers at least sympathies, its intense corporate spirit, held lawyers in slight esteem), as because its singular relation (half of dependence, the conditions of a progressive society half of patronage) to the solicitors, its required its existence. That disposition friendly control over its official superiors, to simplify and popularize law, to make the judges. Any serious changes in it less of a mystery and bring it more the organization of such a body are sure within the reach of an average citizen, to be symptomatic of changes in English which is strong in modern Europe, is society and politics at large, and must of course nowhere so strong as in have an influence far beyond the limits the colonies, and naturally tended in of the profession. Such changes have America to lessen the individuality of of late years begun to be earnestly dis- the legal profession and do away with cussed; and in the prospect of their the antiquated rules which had governed attracting much attention during the it at home. On the other hand, the next few years, it becomes a matter of increasing complexity of relations in more than merely speculative interest to modern society, the development of determine how far the arrangements of so many distinct arts and departments our bar are natural, how far artificial; or of applied science, brings into an in other words, to ascertain what form always clearer light the importance of the legal profession would tend to assume a division of labour, and, by attaching if it were left entirely to itself, and greater value to special knowledge and governed by the ordinary laws of de- skill, necessarily limits and specializes mand and supply. Suppose a country the activity of every profession. In where this has happened, where the spite, therefore, of the democratic profession, originally organized upon the aversion to class organizations, the English model, has been freed from lawyers in America soon acquired prothose restrictions which ancient custom fessional habits and an esprit de corps imposes on it here, what new aspects similar to that of their brethren in or features will it develop ? Will the England; and some forty years ago removal of these restrictions enable it they enjoyed a power and social considebetter to meet the needs of an expanding ration relatively greater than the bar has civilization ? And will this gain, if at- ever held on this side the Atlantic. To tained, be counterbalanced by its expo- explain fully how they gained this sure to new dangers and temptations ? place, and how they have now to some Such a country we find beyond the extent lost it, would involve a discussion Atlantic: a country whose conditions, on American politics generally. I shall however different in points of detail not therefore attempt to do more than from those of England, are sufficiently describe some of those aspects of the similar to make its experience full of United States bar which are likely to instruction for us.

be interesting to an English lawyer, When England sent out her colonies, indicating the points in which their the bar, like most of our other institu- arrangements differ from ours, and tions, reappeared upon the new soil, endeavouring to determine what light and soon gained a position similar to their experience throws on those weighty

questions regarding the organization of the profession which are beginning to be debated among us.

In the United States, as in most parts of Europe and most of our colonies, there is no distinction between barristers and attorneys. Every lawyer, or “counsel,” which is the term whereby they prefer to be known, is permitted to take every kind of business: he may argue a cause in the Supreme Federal Court at Washington, or write six-and-eightpenny letters from a shopkeeper to an obstinate debtor. He may himself conduct all the proceedings in a cause, confer with the client, issue the writ, draw the declaration, get together the evidence, prepare the brief, and manage the trial when it comes on in court. Needless to add that he is employed by and deals with, not another professional man as our barristers do, but with the client himself, who seeks him out and makes his bargain directly with him, just as we in England call in a physician or make our bargain with an architect. In spite, however, of this union of all a lawyer's functions in the same person, considerations of practical convenience have in many places established a division of labour similar to what exists here. Partnerships are formed in which one member undertakes the court work and the duties of the advocate, while another or others transact the rest of the business, see the clients, conduct correspondence, hunt up evidence, prepare witnesses for examination, and manage the thousand little things for which a man goes to his attorney. The merits of the plan are obvious. It saves the senior member from drudgery, and from being distracted by petty details; it introduces the juniors to business, and enables them to profit by the experience and knowledge of the mature practitioner; it secures to the client the benefit of a closer attention to details than a leading counsel could be expected to give, while yet the whole of his suit is managed in the same office, and the responsibility is not divided, as in England, between two independent personages. Nevertheless, owing to causes which it is not easy

to explain, the custom of forming legal partnerships is one which prevails much more extensively in some parts of the Union than in others. In Boston and New York, for instance, it is common ; in the towns of Connecticut and in Philadelphia one is told that it is rather the exception. Even apart from the arrangement which distributes the various kinds of business among the members of a firm, there is a certain tendency for work of a different character to fall into the hands of different men. A beginner is of course glad enough to be employed in any way, and takes willingly the smaller jobs; he will conduct a defence in a police-court, or manage the recovery of a tradesman's petty debt. I remember having been told by a very eminent counsel that when an old apple-woman applied to his son to have her market-licence renewed, which for some reason had been withdrawn, he had insisted on the young man's taking up the case. As he rises, it becomes easier for him to select his business, and when he has attained real eminence he may confine himself entirely to the higher walks, arguing cases and giving opinions, but leaving all the preparatory work and all the communications with the client to be done by the juniors who are re. tained along with him. He is, in fact, with one important difference, to which I shall recur presently, very much in the position of an English Queen's Counsel, and his services are sought, not only by the client, but by another counsel, or firm of counsel, who have an important suit in hand, to which they feel themselves unequal. He may, however, be, and often is, retained directly by the client; and in that case he is allowed to retain a junior to aid him, or to desire the client to do so, naming the man he wishes for, a thing which the etiquette of the English bar forbids. In every great city there are several practitioners of this kind, men who undertake only the weightiest business at the largest fees; and even in the minor towns court practice is in the hands of a comparatively small knot of people. In one New England

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