serve, claim the authorship of the letters
for James Stephen) had, no doubt, made him a suspicious character. The
benchers accordingly informed him that they would not call him to the
bar, giving as their reasons his 'want of birth, want of fortune, want
of education, and want of temper.' His friend, William Jackson, hereupon
printed a letter,[7] addressing the benchers in the true Junius style.
He contrasts Stephen with his persecutors. Stephen might not know Law
Latin, but he had read Bracton and Glanville and Coke; he knew French
and had read Latin at Aberdeen; he had been educated, it was true, in
some 'paltry principles of honour and honesty,' while the benchers had
learnt 'more useful lessons;' he had written letters to Wilkes copied in
all the papers; he had read Locke, could 'harangue for hours upon social
feelings, friendship, and benevolence,' and would trudge miles to save a
family from prison, not considering that he was thereby robbing the
lawyers and jailors of their fees. The benchers, it seems, had sworn the
peace against him before Sir John Fielding, because he had made a
friendly call upon a member of the society. They mistook a card of
introduction for a challenge. Jackson signs himself 'with the
profoundest sense of your Masterships' demerits, your Masterships'
inflexible detestor,' and probably did not improve his friend's
position.

Stephen, thus rejected, entered the legal profession by a back door,
which, if not reputable, was not absolutely closed. He entered into a
kind of partnership with a solicitor who was the ostensible manager of
the business, and could be put forward when personal appearance was
necessary. Stephen's imposing looks and manner, his acquaintance with
commercial circles and his reputation as a victim of Mansfield brought
him a certain amount of business. He had, however, to undertake such
business as did not commend itself to the reputable members of the
profession. He had a hard struggle and was playing a losing game. He
became allied with unfortunate adventurers prosecuting obscure claims
against Government, which, even when admitted, did not repay the costs
incurred. He had to frequent taverns in order to meet his clients, and
took to smoking tobacco and possibly to other indulgences. His wife, who
was a delicate woman, was put to grievous shifts to make both ends meet.
Her health broke down, and she died at last on March 21, 1775. She had
brought him six children, of whom