My Helplessness

It was easy enough 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.

It was easy enough to qualify as a barrister, but practising law was difficult. I had read the laws, but I had not learned how to practise law. I had read ‘Legal Maxims’ with interest, but I did not know how to apply them in my profession. One of them was ‘Sic utere tuo ut alienum non laedas’ (Use your property in such a way as not to damage that of others). But I did not know how to use this maxim to benefit a client. I had read all the leading cases on this maxim, but they gave me no confidence in applying it when practising 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 Phirozeshah Mehta as one who roared like a lion in law courts. How, I wondered, could he have learnt 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 even be able to earn a living by the profession.

Besides, I had learned nothing at all about Indian law. I had no idea about Hindu or Muslim law. I had not even learned how to draft a legal complaint, and I felt completely lost. I had heard that Sir Phirozeshah Mehta roared like a lion in court. How, I wondered, could he have learned that skill in England? I could never hope to match his legal insight. But I had serious doubts about whether I could even earn a living as a lawyer.

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 some one else who recommended me to meet Mr. Frederick Pincutt. He was a Conservative, but his affection 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 every one must be a Phirozeshah Mehta? Phirozeshahs 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 reading.’

I was troubled by these doubts and anxieties while I was studying law. I confided my difficulties to some of my friends. One suggested that I seek Dadabhai Naoroji’s advice. As I have already said, I had a letter of introduction to Dadabhai when I went to England. I waited a long time before using it. I thought I had no right to trouble such a great man by asking for a meeting. Whenever he was scheduled to speak, I attended and listened from a corner of the hall. Then I left, having enjoyed the sight and sound of him. Dadabhai had founded an association to keep in close touch with students. I attended its meetings and was glad to see his concern for the students and their respect for him. In time, I gathered the courage to present my letter of introduction. He said, ‘You can come to me for advice whenever you like.’ But I never took up his offer. I thought it wrong to trouble him unless I had a pressing need. So I did not dare follow my friend’s advice to bring my difficulties to Dadabhai at that time. I now forget whether the same friend or someone else recommended that I meet Mr. Frederick Pincutt. He was a Conservative, but his affection for Indian students was sincere and unselfish. Many students sought his advice. I also asked him for an appointment, and he agreed to see me. I can never forget that meeting. He greeted me as a friend and laughed away my pessimism. ‘Do you think,’ he said, ‘that everyone must be a Phirozeshah Mehta? Phirozeshahs and Badruddins are rare. You can be sure that no unusual skill is needed to be an ordinary lawyer. Ordinary honesty and hard work are enough for him to earn a living. Not all cases are complicated. Now, tell me how much general reading you have done.’

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 history 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 Kay 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.

When I told him how little I had read, I could see that he was rather disappointed. But only for a moment. Soon his face lit up with a pleasant smile, and he said, ‘I understand your difficulty. You have done very little general reading. You know nothing of the world, which is essential for a vakil, or lawyer. You have not even read the history of India. A vakil should understand human nature. He should be able to read a man’s character from his face. And every Indian ought to know Indian history. Knowing Indian history has no connection with practicing law, but you ought to know it. I see that you have not even read Kay and Malleson’s history of the Mutiny of 1857. Get a copy at once. 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 which I found 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.

I was extremely grateful to this respected friend. When I was with him, all my fear disappeared. But as soon as I left him, I began to worry again. On my way home, I thought about the two books. The question of how ‘To know a man from his face’ haunted me. The next day I bought 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 hardly interesting. I studied Shakespeare’s facial features, but I did not learn how to recognize the Shakespeares walking 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 affection stood me in good stead. His smiling open face stayed in my memory and I trusted his advice that Phirozeshah 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 somewhat reassured.

Lavator’s book did not add to my knowledge. Mr. Pincutt’s advice was of little direct help to me, but his kindness helped me. I remembered his smiling, open face, and I trusted his advice. He said that Phirozeshah Mehta’s sharp judgment, memory, and ability were not essential to becoming a successful lawyer. Honesty and hard work were enough. Since I had a fair share of those qualities, I felt somewhat reassured.

I could not read Kay 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.

I could not read Kay and Malleson’s volumes in England, but I read them in South Africa. I had resolved to read 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.

So, with just a little hope mixed into my despair, I arrived in Bombay aboard the steamship Assam. The sea was rough in the harbor, and I had to take a small boat to the dock.