Judges
vary, no doubt. Some are young, others old, by the calendar. But the
old ones have an air of physical incorruptibility--are `well-
preserved,' as by swathes and spices; and the young ones are just as
mummified as they. Some of them are pleased to crack jokes; jokes of
the sarcophagus, that twist our lips to obsequious laughter, but send
a chill through our souls. There are `strong' judges and weak ones (so
barristers will tell you). Perhaps--who knows?--Minos was a strong
judge, and Aeacus and Rhadamanthus were weak ones. But all three seem
equally terrible to us. And so seem, in virtue of their position, and
of the manner and aspect it invests them with, all the judges of our
own high courts.
I hearken in awe to the toneless murmur in which My Lord comments on
the application in the case of `Brown v. Robinson and Another.' He
says something about the Court of Crown Cases Reserved... Ah, what
place on this earth bears a name so mystically majestic? Even in the
commonest forensic phrases there is often this solemnity of cadence,
always a quaintness, that stirs the imagination... The grizzled junior
dares interject something `with submission,' and is finally advised to
see `my learned brother in chambers.' `As your Lordship pleases.
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