Judges and lawyers turned out in force last night to remember Lord Brown of Eaton-under-Heywood, the former justice of the Supreme Court who died last summer at the age of 86. I wrote a brief tribute of my own at the time, linking back to extracts from his hugely successful memoirs.
It was a warm family occasion, beautifully put together by his son Ben as an entirely secular celebration: Simon Brown was Jewish by descent but professed no religion.
The chambers he joined as a young barrister were then at 2 Garden Court, in Middle Temple. Edwin Glasgow CBE KC was a pupil there and remains a leading member of what is now 39 Essex Chambers.
This was the tribute he delivered last night:
Two Garden Court has been the location for a number of memorable meetings over the past couple of centuries.
Two hundred years ago, it was the place where Pip learnt the identity of his benefactor in Great Expectations. And little more than half a century ago, it was where William Macpherson and John Laws, as they then were, first met as pupil-master and pupil; and where Simon Brown, as he then was, met his first pupil, Edwin Glasgow — as I still am.
Bill and Simon could hardly have been more different; but their friendship was legendary. They shared a room for many years and teased each other mercilessly while making little secret of the admiration that they had for one another. That friendship and mutual admiration laid an unshakeable foundation for what became — and I think always will be — their chambers.
To this day, every member of the chambers, now at an office block in Chancery Lane, would acknowledge the debt that we still owe to them. We all continue to try to live up to what we still refer to as the Garden Court spirit of ethical decency, professional commitment and personal friendship which Simon personified.
Despite being three months older than me, John turned up three weeks late to start his pupillage with Bill — probably because he regarded the Gregorian calendar as a rather modern, vulgar European invention and preferred to organise his affairs in line with its classical Julian predecessor.
For reasons that came as no surprise to anyone, John rather quickly caught up on his late start. But the fact that he continued to progress rather more impressively in his legal career than I did should not be taken as any reflection on Simon’s skill and dedication as a pupil-master. Simon had more work to do on his pupil than Bill had to do with his.
It would take a very long time to list Simon’s qualities. I am going to stick to the one which mattered most to me and, I think, to all the pupils who followed me. That was his kindness — a quality which, increasingly in old age, I believe to be vastly under-rated.
In those far off days, the convention was that pupil-masters knew rather more about the law than their pupils did and pupils paid the princely sum of 100 guineas to sit for one year at their master’s feet. That position is now mercifully reversed. We now pay our pupils — about the same as High Court judges — so that they can tell us what the law is.
I confess that I struggled economically, as well as academically, to make my way to, and at, the bar. When Simon discovered my working overalls in a cupboard in the clerks’ room, what might loosely be called a cross-examination extracted the confession that I was driving long-distance lorries at night in order to get some income during my first six months of pupillage.
He immediately insisted on returning my 100 guineas, including the 100 shillings1 that he had already passed on to our clerk but which had already been invested, many times, in the Wig & Pen. But it goes without saying that no price was too high for the quality of instruction that I received.
I am not sure that Simon taught me a lot of law. But his example in things that matter rather more than jurisprudence left an indelible mark on me.
He treated what he called “bookishness” — which included taking law reports to court — with gentle scorn but secret admiration.
He treated genuine mistakes by his opponents with sympathy and never once tried unfairly to exploit them.
He treated loss and suffering — all too common in the work he then did —with compassion; success, when he won cases, with surprise; and failure — when he lost to others — with generosity to those who had won.
He treated lapses of integrity with furious incredulity. Forensic bullying was treated with one raised eyebrow and that infamously infectious half-smile which was as impertinently beautiful on his face as it was withering to those who were gently shamed when it was aimed at them.
In so far as I have achieved any success in my modest career, I owe almost all of it to this remarkable man.
A guinea was £1. 1s. 0d — 21 shillings or £1.05 as it became in 1971. Barristers charged in guineas and their clerks kept the shilling on each pound.
Erudition, intuition, kindness- and the greatest of the three is kindness