but it veiled its face;
and though in rare cases the error and sin of a powerful lawyer may have
been notorious, the preccant man was careful to surround himself with
such an appearance of respectability that society should easily feign
ignorance of his offence. An Elizabethan distich--familiar to all
barristers, but too rudely worded for insertion in this page--informs us
that in the sixteenth century Gray's Inn had an unenviable notoriety
amongst legal hospices for the shamelessness of its female inmates. But
the pungent lines must be regarded as a satire aimed at certain
exceptional members, rather than as a vivacious picture of the general
tone of morals in the society. Anyhow the fact that Gray's Inn[1] was
alone designated as a home for infamy--whilst the Inner Temple was
pointed to as the hospice most popular with rich men, the Middle Temple
as the society frequented by Templars of narrow means, and Lincoln's Inn
as the abode of gentlemen--is, of itself, a proof that the pervading
manners of the last three institutions were outwardly decorous. Under
the least favorable circumstances, a barrister's wife living in
chambers, within or near Lincoln's Inn, or the Temple, during Charles
II.'s reign, fared as well in this respect as she would have done had
Fortune made her a lady-in-waiting at Whitehall.

A good story is told of certain visits paid to William Murray's chambers
at No. 5, King's Bench Walk Temple, in the year 1738. Born in 1705,
Murray was still a young man when in 1738 he made his brilliant speech
in behalf of Colonel Sloper, against whom Colley Cibber's rascally son
had brought an action for _crim. con._ with his wife--the lovely actress
who was the rival of Mrs. Clive. Amongst the many clients who were drawn
to Murray by that speech, Sarah, Duchess of Marlborough, was neither the
least powerful nor the least distinguished. Her grace began by sending
the rising advocate a general retainer, with a fee of a thousand
guineas; of which sum he accepted only the two-hundredth part,
explaining to the astonished duchess that "the professional fee, with a
general retainer, could neither be less nor more than five guineas." If
Murray had accepted the whole sum he would not have been overpaid for
his trouble; for her grace persecuted him with calls at most
unseasonable hours. On one occasion, returning to his chambers after
"drinking champagne with the wits," he found the duchess's carriage and
attendants on King