25. MY HELPLESSNESS
It was easy to be called,
but it was difficult to practise at the bar. I had read the laws, but not
learnt how to practise law. I had read with interest 'Legal Maxims', but
did not know how to apply them in my profession. 'Sic utere tuo ut alienum
non laedas' (Use your property in such a way as not to damage that
of others) was one of them, but I was at a loss to know how one could employ
this maxim for the benefit of one's client. I had read all the leading
cases on this maxim, but they gave me no confidence in the application
of it in the practice of law.
Besides, I had learnt nothing
at all of Indian Law . I had not the slightest idea of Hindu and Mahomedan
Law. I had not even learnt how to draft a plaint, and felt completely at
sea. I had heard of Sir Pherozeshah Mehta as one who roared like a lion
in law courts. How, I wondered, could he have leant the art in England?
It was out of the question for me ever to acquire his legal acumen, but
I had serious misgivings as to whether I should be able even to earn a
living by the profession.
I was torn with these doubts
and anxieties whilst I was studying law. I confided my difficulties to
some of my friends. One of them suggested that I should seek Dadabhai Naoroji's
advice. I have already said that when I went to England, I possessed a
note of introduction to Dadabhai. I availed myself of it very late. I thought
I had no right to trouble such a great man for an interview. Whenever an
address by him was announced, I would attend it, listen to him from a corner
of the hall, and go away after having feasted my eyes and ears. In order
to come in close touch with the students, he had founded an association.
I used to attend its meetings, and rejoiced at Dadabhai's solicitude for
the students, and the latter's respect for him. In course of time I mustered
up courage to present to him the note of introduction. He said: 'You can
come and have my advice whenever you like.' But I never availed myself
of his offer. I thought it wrong to trouble him without the most pressing
necessity. Therefore I dared not venture to accept my friend's advice to
submit my difficulties to Dadabhai at that time. I forget now whether it
was the same friend or someone else who recommended me to meet Mr. Frederick
Pincutt. He was a Conservative, but his affectation for Indian students
was pure and unselfish. Many students sought his advice, and I also applied
to him for an appointment, which he granted. I can never forget that interview.
He greeted me as a friend. He laughed away my pessimism. 'Do you think,'
he said, 'that everyone must be a Pherozeshah Mehta? Pherozeshahs and Badruddins
are rare. Rest assured it takes no unusual skill to be an ordinary lawyer.
Common honesty and industry are enough to enable him to make a living.
All cases are not complicated. Well, let me know the extent of your general
When I acquainted him with my
little stock of reading, he was, as I could see, rather disappointed. But
it was only for a moment. Soon his face beamed with a pleasing smile and
he said, 'I understand your trouble. Your general reading is meagre. You
have no knowledge of the world, a sine qua non for a vakil. You
have not even read the hisory of India. A vakil should know human nature.
He should be able to read a man's character from his face. And every Indian
ought to know Indian History. This has no connection with the practice
of law, but you ought to have that knowledge. I see that you have not even
read Kaye's and Malleson's history of the Mutiny of 1857. Get hold of that
at once, and also read two more books to understand human nature.' These
were Lavator's and Shemmelpennick's books on physiognomy.
I was extremely grateful to
this venerable friend. In his presence I found all my fear gone, but as
soon as I left him I began to worry again. 'To know a man from his face'
was the question that haunted me, as I thought of the two books on my way
home. The next day I purchased Lavator's book. Shemmelpennick's was not
available at the shop. I read Lavator's book and found it more difficult
than Snell's Equity, and scarcely interesting. I studied Shakespeare's
physiognomy, but did not acquire the knack of finding out the Shakespeares
walking up and down the streets of London.
Lavator's book did not add to
my knowledge. Mr. Pincutt's advice did me very little direct service, but
his kindliness stood me in good stead. His smiling open face stayed in
my memory, and I trusted his advice that Pherozeshah Mehta's acumen, memory
and ability were not essential to the making of a successful lawyer; honesty
and industry were enough. And as I had a fair share of these last, I felt
I could not read Kaye's and
Malleson's volumes in England, but I did so in South Africa, as I had made
a point of reading them at the first opportunity.
Thus with just a little leaven
of hope mixed with my despair, I landed at Bombay from S.S. Assam.
The sea was rough in the harbour, and I had to reach the quay in a launch.