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 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 be able even to earn a living by
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
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 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 reading.'
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 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 somewhat
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
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.