XIV. PREPARATION
FOR THE CASE
The year's stay in Pretoria was a most valuable
experience in my life. Here it was that I had
opportunities of learning public work and acquired some
measure of my capacity for it. Here it was that the
religious spirit within me became a living force, and
here too I acquired a true knowledge of legal practice.
Here I learnt the things that a junior barrister learns
in a senior barrister's chamber, and here I also gained
confidence that I should not after all fail as a lawyer.
It was likewise here that I learnt the secret of success
as a lawyer.
Dada Abdulla's was no small case. The suit was for ?
40,000. Arising out of business transactions, it was full
of intricacies of accounts. Part of the claim was based
on promissory notes, and part on the specific performance
of promise to delivery promissory notes. The defence was
that the promissory notes were fraudulently taken and
lacked sufficient consideration. There were numerous
points of fact and law in this intricate case.
Both parties had engaged the best arrorneys and
counsel. I thus had a fine opportunity of studying their
work. The preparation of the plaintiff's case for the
attorney and the sifting of facts in support of his case
had been entrusted to me. It was an education to see how
much the attorney accepted, and how much he rejected from
my preparation, as also to see how much use the counsel
made of the brief prepared by the attorney. I saw that
this preparation for the case would give me a fair
measure of my powers of comprehension and my capacity for
marshalling evidence.
I took the keenest interest in the case. Indeed I
threw myself into it. I read all the papers pertaining to
the transactions. My client was a man of great ability
and reposed absolute confidence in me, and this rendered
my work easy. I made a fair study of book-keeping. My
capacity for translation was improved by having to
translate the correspondence, which was for the most part
in Gujarati.
Although, as I have said before, I took a keen
interest in religious communion and in public work and
always gave some of my time to them, they were not then
my primary interest. The preparation of the case was my
primary interest. Reading of law and looking up law
cases, when necessary, had always a prior claim on my
time. As a result, I acquired such a grasp of the facts
of the case as perhaps was not possessed even by the
parties themselves, inasmuch as I had with me the papers
of both the parties.
I recalled the late Mr. Pincutt's advice - facts are
three-fourths of the law. At a later date it was amply
borne out by that famous barrister of South Africa, the
late Mr. Leonard. In a certain case in my charge I saw
that, though justice was on the side of my client, the
law seemed to be against him. In despair I approached Mr.
Leonard for help. He also felt that the facts of the case
were very strong. He exclaimed, 'Gandhi, I have learnt
one thing, and it is this, that if we take care of the
facts of a case, the law will take care of itself. Let us
dive deeper into the facts of this case.' With these
words he asked me to study the case further and then see
him again. On a re- examination of the facts I saw them
in an entirely new light, and I also hit upon an old
South African case bearing on the point. I was delighted
and went to Mr. Leonard and told him everything. 'Right,'
he said, 'we shall win the case. Only we must bear in
mind which of the judges takes it.'
When I was making preparation for Dada Abdulla's case,
I had not fully realized this paramount importance of
facts. Facts mean truth, and once we adhere to truth, the
law comes to our aid naturally. I saw that the facts of
Dada Abdulla's case made it very strong indeed, and that
the law was bound to be persisted in, would ruin the
plaintiff and the defendant, who were relatives and both
belonged to the same city. No one knew how long the case
might go on. Should it be allowed to continue to be
fought out in court, it might go on indefinitely and to
no advantage of either party. Both, therefore, desired an
immediate termination of the case, if possible.
I approached Tyeb Sheth and requested and advised him
to go to arbitration. I recommended him to see his
counsel. I suggested to him that if an arbitrator
commanding the confidence of both parties could
appointed, the case would be quickly finished. The
lawyers' fees were so rapidly mounting up that they were
enough to devour all the resources of the clients, big
merchants as they were. The case occupied so much of
their attention that they had no time left for any other
work. In the meantime mutual ill-will was steadily
increasing. I became disgusted with the profession. As
lawyers the counsel on both sides were bound to rake up
points of law in support of their own clients. I also saw
for the first time that the winning party never recovers
all the costs incurred. Under the Court Fees Regulation
there was a fixed scale of costs to be allowed as between
party and party, the actual costs as between attorney and
client being very much higher. This was more than I could
bear. I felt that my duty was to befriend both parties
and bring them together. I strained every nerve to bring
about a compromise. At last Tyeb Sheth agreed. An
arbitrator was appointed, the case was argued before him,
and Dada Abdulla won.
But that did not satisfy me. If my client were to seek
immediate execution of the award, it would be impossible
for Tyeb Sheth to meet the whole of the awarded amount,
and there was an unwritten law among the Porbandar Memans
living in South Africa that death should be preferred to
bankruptcy. It was impossible for Tyeb Sheth to pay down
the whole sum of about ?37,000 and costs. He meant to
pay not a pie less than the amount, and he did not want
to be declared bankrupt. There was only one way. Dada
Abdulla should him to pay in moderate instalments. He was
equal to the occasion, and granted Tyeb Sheth instalments
spread over a very long period. It was more difficult for
me to secure this concession of payment by instalments
than to get the parties to agree to arbitration. But both
were happy over the result, and both rose in the public
estimation. My joy was boundless. I had learnt the true
practice of law. I had learnt to find out the better side
of human nature and to enter men's hearts. I realized
that the true function of a lawyer was to unite parties
riven asunder. The lesson was so indelibly burnt into me
that a large part of my time during the twenty years of
my practice as a lawyer was occupied in bringing about
private compromises of hundreds of cases. I lost nothing
thereby - not even money, certainly not my soul.
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