Walden of Bermondsey by Peter Murphy

Author:Peter Murphy
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780857301239
Published: 2017-06-14T12:35:44+00:00

UNEASY LIES THE HEAD

Lunchtime last Friday

‘It’s like the Feast of Pentecost, the baptism of the Holy Spirit, you see,’ Legless explains, ‘the transmission of spiritual gifts by the laying on of hands. Once a chap gets decked out in the red robes and the Lord Chancellor anoints him a High Court judge, the Spirit of the Common Law descends from Heaven, alights on him, and imbues him with the spiritual gift of conducting criminal trials.’

The lunchtime conversation in the judicial mess has turned to one of the most hallowed traditions of English law, namely: that the most serious criminal cases, such as murder, are tried by those judges least qualified to try them. I refer, of course, to their Lordships of the High Court. In any rational world, such trials would be conducted by those of us who had some experience of them while in practice. In the real world, the opposite is true. The type of barrister who becomes a High Court judge wouldn’t be seen dead in a criminal court. Not much money in it, for one thing. And crime has always been a bit infra dig, actually, old boy, not the kind of thing one wants to be seen doing. No, those destined for the highest preferment learn their advocacy in a more agreeable setting, such as arguing the finer points of a charter party in the Commercial Court, or carving up a fat, juicy estate in the Chancery Division. Yet, as if by magic, once elevated to the dizzying heights of the High Court bench, they acquire the ability to preside effortlessly over the criminal jury trial – an unruly beast whose potential for sudden, total catastrophe occasionally makes fools of the best of us.

How this apparently magical process occurs has never been satisfactorily explained. Personally, I attribute it to the principle that the gods love a true amateur and will always look after him, especially when he is entrusted with some vital task completely beyond his experience. England has always depended on this kind of divine intervention – on the battlefield, on the sports field, and, it seems, in the courtroom.

‘Does he assume the form of a dove?’ Hubert asks.

‘Who, the Lord Chancellor?’

Hubert looks confused.

‘No, not the Lord Chancellor; the whatsit, the Spirit of the Common Law.’

‘I’m not sure the dove is quite the right image,’ I comment.

‘An eagle, I would have thought,’ Marjorie suggests. ‘Clear sight and sharp talons.’

‘Bloody vulture, more like,’ Legless rejoins. He sounds depressed, as if his theory of the laying on of hands brings him little consolation.

To add insult to injury, High Court judges don’t confine themselves to presiding over trials. They also hunt in packs in the Criminal Division of the Court of Appeal, where they can do a lot more damage. In the Court of Appeal they can bugger up not only the case in front of them, but also all future cases of a similar nature unless and until Parliament intervenes to restore order. Arrayed en banc,

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