Two Middle Temple Benchers on Legal Reading, 400 Years Apart

To “think like a lawyer” also requires one to “read like a lawyer,” navigating legal authorities efficiently and accurately. Books written to assist law students in developing this skill go back centuries. One important English legal method book was written by a Middle Temple Bencher in the seventeenth century: Sir John Dodderidge’s The English Lawyer (1631). By examining The English Lawyer alongside fellow Middle Temple Bencher Glanville Williams’ contemporary legal classic, Learning the Law, we can explore the remarkable persistence of teaching law students a particular way of reading and understanding the common law.

The English Lawyer

Sir John Dodderidge (1555–1628) was a well-respected judge of the King’s Bench.[i] During his lifetime, reading and private study were the primary means of learning the law.  Aural exercises at the Inns of Court were “more perfunctory” and would cease altogether by 1700.[ii] The lack of formal direction in legal education meant that there was an important place for books like The English Lawyer, a 271-page quarto that was published posthumously in 1631. [iii]

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Title page of The English Lawyer. Courtesy of the Benchers of the Honourable Society of the Middle Temple

There are two copies of this book at the Middle Temple Library, one bound in leather, and the other bound in parchment with other works by Dodderidge and some Star Chamber case reports. It carries the bookplate of “Richard Clark, Esq, Chamberlain of London.” There is also a handwritten table of contents dated 1761 with Clark’s name. Clark’s ownership of the book one hundred and thirty years after publication and its subsequent placement in the Middle Temple Library suggests it had enduring value for generations of law students and lawyers.

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Table of contents with Richard Clark’s name, dated 1761. Courtesy of the Benchers of the Honourable Society of the Middle Temple

In The English Lawyer, Dodderidge advocates sustained time for reading. Time allows for reflection and guards against exhaustion:

What booteth it to reade much, which is wearinesse to the flesh; to meditate often, which is a burthen to the minde; to learne daily with encrease of knowledge, when as the matter learned is to seeke, at that time especially when we have most need of the use thereof? Memory therefore is the Chest of an inestimable treasure given from God for the preservation of all kinde of knowledge.[iv]

Time of day matters too: the morning is for committing information to memory and after dinner, “being silent and quiet,” is for memorizing speeches to deliver the next day.[v]

Both Latin and Law French are indispensable: Latin in order to read legal sources like the Magna Carta, and Law French in order to read law books. [vi] Dodderidge assumes his readers already know these languages: he includes untranslated excerpts of both Latin and Law French. He parallels the way in which common law treatises like Glanvill, De legibus et consuetudinibus Angliae, and Fleta order the common law with the divine order of the universe:

GOD in his most excellent worke of the frame of transitorie things, though hee hath furnished the world with unspeakeable variety, thereby making manifest unto all humane creatures, to their great astonishment, his incomprehensible wisedom, his omnipotent power, and his insearchable providence, yet being the God of order, not of confusion, hath admitted no infinitenesse in nature (howsoever otherwise it seeme to our weak capacities) but hath continued the innumerable variety of particular things under certaine specialls; those specialls under generalls; and those generals againe under causes more generall, linking and conjoyning one thing to another, as if by a chaine, even untill wee ascend unto himselfe, the first, chiefe and principall cause of all good things.[vii]

The common law might seem less refined than civil law, but not to Dodderidge. The law changes over time; better to have the law “not left in any other monument, than in the mind of man” so it can be applied anew as circumstances change.[viii] Such a system requires lawyers who are ready with the legal principles in their minds, so Dodderidge provides step-by-step instructions on how to extract the most important parts of a case:

First, after the case read, let us consider with our selves, & meditate in our minds, to what severall purposes the same case may bee applyed, and what matter, or severall matters the resolution of the Case can confirme. Which when wee have considered of, it shall be good for our memorie to commit them to writing […] Upon meditation had of this case, what it will prove, these Propositions or Rules following may easily be collected [.][ix]

Echoing his description of the divine order of the universe, Dodderidge asserts that law students can go from “the particular case, to the Speciall Reason, from that to a more generall, untill we finde out the very primarie ground of naturall reason, from whence all the other are derived.”[x] This draws from French logician Peter Ramus, whose method had spread to Oxford and Cambridge in the late sixteenth century. Ramism’s subsequent popularity at the Inns of Court coincided with increasing numbers of law students who first attended university, like Dodderidge, who had a B.A. from Oxford.[xi]

Dodderidge’s guidance would help law students create what was known as a commonplace book, in which passages would be organized by general and specific headings. Many Early Modern readers kept commonplace books to collect and make sense of what they read. As Robert Darnton explains,

Whenever they came across a pithy passage, they copied it into a notebook under an appropriate heading, adding observations made in the course of daily life…. They broke texts into fragments and assembled them into new patterns by transcribing them in different sections of their notebooks. Then they reread the copies and rearranged the patterns while adding more excerpts.[xii]

Creating legal commonplace books would help students make sense of the common law.

Learning the Law

First published in 1945, Glanville Williams’ Learning the Law has run to sixteen editions so far. Williams’ obituary described it as “a little introductory book about law studies which was, and still remains, indispensable reading for any would-be law student.”[xiii] Williams (1911–1997) had an illustrious career as a lawyer, reformer and scholar. Recent editions of Learning the Law still bear his name but are edited by lawyer and professor A.T.H. Smith, also a Bencher of the Middle Temple.

Williams tells students that learning to identify the ratio decidendi of a case is “an art gradually acquired through practice and study.”[xiv] The Latin phrase is an example of the persistence of Latin in law, though now, like Law French, it exists only in particular terms. Rather than suggesting a student should know either language, Williams directs students to dictionaries and guides on pronunciation.[xv]

While Williams agrees with Dodderidge that students must study cases in order to understand the law, today’s students have another option that Williams endorses: casebooks. First, there is so much more legal literature now.[xvi]  Second, structured law courses compress learning into an “alarmingly short space”[xvii] with many hours needed for lectures, tutorials and other activities, in addition to reading the law. He concludes that students need only read some cases in their entirety and can rely on casebooks for the rest.[xviii]

While practicing lawyers have little need “to carry much law in the mind,” law students “must also be able to recite a considerable number of rules and authorities,” at least for exams.[xix] Like Dodderidge, Williams teaches specific mnemonic techniques, but they are adapted to the academic year:

you can learn the same amount in less learning time by distributing your learning evenly over term and vacation than by crowding your learning into the term and leaving the vacations an academic blank.[xx]

Reading should be done in small portions in order to allow time to assimilate new information into a coherent whole, and passages should be reread multiple times. [xxi]  Rather than following Dodderidge’s advice to meditate silently on the reading, Williams advocates reciting aloud, drawing, perhaps unknowingly, on the Medieval technique of murmuring.[xxii]

The Continued Survival of Early Modern Reading?

Robert Darnton once described the Early Modern reader as reading in fits and starts, breaking up texts, and reassembling them to suit a purpose.[xxiii] This reading for action “compelled its practitioners to read actively, to exercise critical judgment, and to impose their own pattern on their reading matter.”[xxiv] While largely extinct, Darnton found that this type of reading still survived “in places.”[xxv] Could the legal profession be one of those places? When law students learn to brief cases and compile them into outlines for exams, they are hearing echoes of Dodderidge’s advice to “frame a Directory… fit and convenient both for the speedy finding of that we would seeke, and the ready having of that we can wish for.”[xxvi] While they may have new tools, law students continue to have to assemble their learning in a way that makes sense to them individually and makes sense of the common law as a whole. Perhaps these unique needs have meant that Early Modern reading techniques have persisted in this profession while they have been largely forgotten elsewhere.

This guest blog post was written by Amy Kaufman (B.A., LL.B., M.I.St., Head Law Librarian, Queen’s University, Kingston, Canada )*

It is based on an article that was recently published in the Canadian Law Library Review: https://callacbd.ca/resources/Documents/CLLR%2044.3%20(Final).pdf

References:

[i] David Ibbetson, “Dodderidge [Doddridge], Sir John,” in Sir David Cannadine, ed, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (Oxford University Press, 2005), online: <doi.org/10.1093/ref:odnb/7745>.

[ii] Wilfrid R. Prest, The Inns of Court under Elizabeth I and the Early Stuarts, 1590-1640 (Aylesbury: Longman, 1972) at 48, 124-41.

[iii] Sir John Dodderidge, The English Lawyer (London: Assignes of I. More Esq, 1631).

[iv] Ibid at 12-13.

[v] Ibid at 22.

[vi] Ibid at 40-41; 244-45.

[vii] Ibid. at 236-37.

[viii] Ibid. at 241.

[ix] Ibid at 247-49.

[x] Ibid at 255.

[xi] Richard J Ross, “The Commoning of the Common Law: The Renaissance Debate over Printing English Law, 1520-1640” (1998) 146 U Pa L Rev 323 at 346; AWB Simpson, “The Rise and Fall of the Legal Treatise: Legal Principles and the Forms of Legal Literature” (1981) 48 U Chicago L Rev 632 at 649-50; Richard J. Ross, “The Memorial Culture of Early Modern English Lawyers: Memory as Keyword, Shelter, and Identity, 1560-1640” (1998) 10 Yale JL & Human 229 at 287-95, 304; Ibbetson, supra note 1.

[xii] Robert Darnton, “Extraordinary Commonplaces”, New York Times Review of Books (21 December 2000), online: <www.nybooks.com/articles/2000/12/21/extraordinary-commonplaces/>.

[xiii] JR Spencer, “Obituary: Professor Glanville Williams,” Independent (17 April 1997), online: <www.independent.co.uk/news/people/obituary-professor-glanville-williams-1267628.html>.

[xiv] ATH Smith, ed., Glanville Williams: Learning the Law, 13th ed (London: Sweet & Maxwell, 2006) at 92.

[xv] Ibid at 85-88.

[xvi] Ibid at 73.

[xvii] Ibid at 74.

[xviii] Ibid at 75.

[xix] Ibid at 71.

[xx] Ibid at 72.

[xxi] Ibid at 72.

[xxii] Ibid at 73; Mary Carruthers, The Book of Memory: A Study of Memory in Medieval Culture, 2nd ed (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008) at 205.

[xxiii] Darnton, supra note 12.

[xxiv] Ibid.

[xxv] Ibid.

[xxvi] Dodderidge, supra note 3 at 269.

*Thanks to Giles Mandelbrote, Dr. Cynthia Johnston, Daniel Boyer, Sivan Tumarkin, and Simon Baron for their helpful comments on earlier drafts of the paper that this blog post is based on. I am grateful to Renae Satterley, Librarian of the Middle Temple, for all her help.

Women barristers and legal costume

As we move towards 2019, many will be preparing to celebrate the centenary of the Sex Disqualification (Removal) Act 1919. In anticipation of the numerous events marking this historic piece of legislation, we look at one of the hurdles which the first women barristers faced when entering the profession: what should they wear? Or let’s be more precise, what others thought women barristers should (and should not) wear, as reflected in the contemporary press.

It was not until 1919 that women were first allowed to practice law and join an Inn of Court or the Law Society. The question of what they should wear as barristers followed shortly and sparked a heated discussion in the profession itself as well as in the press. In 1922, as the Call of the first woman to the English Bar was approaching, the practicalities of legal costume for women had to be decided. In March 1922, the Committee of Judges and Benchers of the Inns of Court specified the dress code for women barristers in court. However, the debate did not end there, especially with regard to women barristers’ headwear.

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It was this Act which allowed women to become lawyers.

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The press observations

Women entering into the legal profession did not escape the attention of the press. Already in 1919, after the Sex Disqualification (Removal) Act 1919 came into force, speculation as to whether there should be special wigs made exclusively for women arose. The Daily Mail (31 December 1919) featured an article in which a Temple wig-maker raised concerns about women’s demand for wig alterations. The Bystander magazine (7 January 1920) speculated about the need for hairpins, the ridiculousness of ‘curlybits’ of the counsels’ wigs dangling over a bun or ‘the wig planted on the top of a fashion coiffure’.

Miss Helena Normanton, the first woman Called to the Bar by Middle Temple, commented wittily on these concerns: ‘It does not matter much what is outside one’s head’. However, the discussion of women barristers fashion was not over. Even when Normanton stood at court, remarks on her attire and appearance were part of the story. The Daily Express (22 December 1922) reported not only on the case but also on Miss Normanton’s appearance: ‘Her wig was a little newer and whiter than those of the other counsel. Her stiff white collar with square ends was a little higher than those worn by the men.’

Helena Normanton
Helena Normanton. Credit: The Law Society of Ontario Archives

The Manchester Dispatch (18 November 1922) commented on the legal dress of women barristers at their Call at Middle Temple. According to the reporter, women in wigs and gowns were indistinguishable from men. So much attention was paid to this sight that the text reflected every detail. ‘The wigs completely covered the women’s hair and one of them tugged at the lapels of her gown in the same way as a seasoned barrister examining a witness in court’. Another press article from The Daily Mail (18 November 1922) concluded that ‘it was noticeable that the fashion of hairdressing for women barristers is a compact flat scroll around the head, very little hair showing beneath the curled wig at the back’.

1922 dress code committee

On 31 March 1922, The Times reported that ‘the Committee of mere men appointed to determine the style of dress to be worn by women barristers in Court have completed their delicate task’. The Committee consisted of judges and Benchers of the Inns of Court. According to the paper, their decision was summed up in three points:

  1. Ordinary barrister’s wigs should be worn and should completely cover and conceal the hair
  2. Ordinary barrister’s gowns should be worn
  3. Dresses should be plain, black or very dark, high to the neck, with long sleeves, and not shorter than the gown, with high, plain white collar and barrister’s bands; or plain coats and skirts may be worn, black or very dark, not shorter than the gown, with plain white shirts and high collars and barrister’s bands.

As The Times wrote, the regulations were supposed to ‘preserve the dignity of the Courts, and at the same time provide against any chance of women barristers exercising undue influence on the impressionable juries by virtue of the attributes of their sex’. However, the regulations did not seem to specify any sanctions if they were not followed.

Reactions to the dress code recommendations

Before the regulations were agreed, some judges allegedly suggested that women barristers should wear a birreta (a square cap with three or four ridges/peaks) instead of a wig. This idea was repeated in some of the comments in The Times as a reaction to the dress code recommendations. One reaction stated: ‘women barristers ought to wear a distinctive, and probably dark-coloured, head-dress in approximately the form of biretta, a turban, or a toque.’ (1 April 1922)

The same author was primarily concerned about the length of women’s hair and their hair styles:

‘If women barristers are going to cut their hair as short as we cut ours, our wigs will suit them well enough, but I do not believe they will do anything of the kind.’

‘Suppose a woman barrister wears her hair “bobbed”. Her wig, if it completely conceals her hair, will certainly not be an ordinary barrister’s wig. Suppose she has plenty of hair, and wears it coiled in one of the usual ways. She will then want one pattern of wig when fashion places the coils on the top of her head, another when they are resting on the back of her neck, and a third when they approach the situation of the old-fashioned chignon, high up on the back of the head. Each of the three will impart to the wearer a hydrocephalous, ungainly, and ludicrous appearance.’

Another person contributed the following comment to the debate:

‘It is pointed out to me that, in order to strictly conform with regulations, it will be necessary for a lady barrister to crop her head with masculine abbreviation and to incur no inconsiderable expense in obtaining mannish shirts and “stiff high collars” of a kind which, owing to the softer trend of feminine fashions for the last ten years, are unobtainable in ordinary shops, thus putting her to an economic disadvantage compared with a male advocate, whose expenses are limited to the purchase of wig, gown and bands, and whose “quick change” in the robing room chiefly consists in the removal of his tie. While the ban on short sleeves and low necks is agreed to, it is urged that, if the length of skirts is to be governed by that of the stuff-gown, which reaches to just below the knee, the rigid masculinity of the upper portion of a lady barrister’s costume may be discounted without infringement of the regulations by an excessive and illogical insistence on femininity with regard to stockings!’ (3 April 1922)

Despite this initial scepticism, wig-wearing women barristers became a regular sight.  It did, however, take many more decades before they were seen as equal, professionally-speaking, to men barristers.

Sources:

‘Wig fashion’ The Daily Mail (London 31 December 1919)

‘A Question of Hairpins’ The Bystander (London 7 January 1920)

‘Women Barristers’ Costume’ The Times (London 31 March 1922)

‘Women Barristers’ The Times (London 31 March 1922)

Herbert Stephen, ‘Women Barristers And Wigs’ The Times (London 1 April 1922)

C. P. Hawkes, ‘Women Barristers’ Costume’ The Times (London 3 April 1922)

’10 Women To Be Called To The Bar’ The Daily Herald (16 November 1922)

‘Women Called to the Bar’ The Manchester Dispatch (18 November 1922)

‘Portia Win Her First Case’ The Daily Express (28 December 1922)

 

You may also find interesting:

The First 100 Years

1920s cartoon predicts that first women barristers would hilariously modify their wigs

The Association of Women Barristers

Temple Women’s Forum

The Portia effect: Early women law students and their legacy

Women: the Beginnings

Women Lawyers: Equals at the Bar? [Gresham College]

Wigs in the English legal world

While today they are arguably an integral part of the popular image of judges and barristers, the wearing of wigs by legal practitioners was, initially, nothing particularly special – the custom simply followed wider English fashion. With the Restoration of King Charles II following his exile in France, he and the royal court returned from France, bringing with them the practice, already widespread there, for gentlemen to wear wigs. All of fashionable society adopted this habit, and so the judges and lawyers (being dedicated followers of fashion), did the same.

Blackstone (2)

Prior to the advent of wigs, judges had for centuries worn the coif – the headgear of the ancient order of Serjeants-at-Law, from which they were exclusively drawn. From the 14th century onward they had added to this a black skull cap, and by the reign of Henry VIII they had also taken up the pileus quadratus, a four cornered black hat of limp, soft material. This set of items, formalized in the Judges’ Rules of 1635, still made up the standard judicial headgear when wigs arrived on the scene.

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Having been brought in on a tide of modishness, wigs remained subject to such whims. Originally, judges and barristers alike wore long, or ‘full-bottomed’ wigs, but as shorter wigs became more popular in society, young barristers, eager to keep up, adopted short ‘tie’ wigs, which had rows of horizontal curls along the back sides – much as barristers’ wigs do today. Judges, perhaps wishing to maintain some gravitas and distinction, stuck to the more traditional length, and full-bottoms remained the dress of King’s (or Queen’s) counsel, as they do in ceremonial contexts today.

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By the late 18th century, however, even judges had bowed to fashion and, perhaps, comfort, by adopting an ‘undress’ wig – a short wig with one vertical curl at the back and two queues behind, for ordinary sittings in court – reserving the full-bottom for ceremonial occasions.

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A major development in the history of legal wigs was the innovation of Humphrey Ravenscroft in 1820s and 1830s. He patented in 1822 a barristers’ tie wig which did not require any maintenance – previous such wigs had needed daily treatment with ointment and powder. Similarly, in the 1830s he brought out a similarly low-maintenance full-bottom for judges – though many more conservative on the bench refused to adopt such a new-fangled device. Wigs are still manufactured by Ede & Ravenscroft to this pre-Victorian design.

285

Despite the rapid and widespread rise to popularity of wigs, the old coif, skullcap and pileus quadratus did not disappear from the judicial head. The coif and skullcap began to be attached to the back of wigs, growing smaller over the years – by the 1750s they were simply small circles of white and black. While this vestigial coif did eventually disappear, it is still recalled today by a small, circular depression in the back of a judge’s wig marking its position.

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Meanwhile, the pileus quadratus became a ceremonial item – largely carried by hand except on occasions of particular significance. By the 20th century, it had become associated with the pronouncement of a sentence of death. This practice continued until the abolition of the death penalty in the mid-twentieth century, but judges continue to carry the cap as part of their full ceremonial dress.

152

Various changes have been proposed in recent centuries to limit the wearing of wigs, though this has often met with resistance. In 1948, the House of Commons debated a motion which would have introduced a clause prohibiting the wearing of wigs in court, though it was defeated. A survey taking in the views of almost 4 000 barristers showed that while the Bar would embrace change in some areas, it was strongly felt that wigs should remain in place in the Crown Court.

In July 2007, Lord Chief Justice Lord Phillips announced that from January 2008 judges in civil and family cases in England and Wales would no longer wear wigs. However, the Bar Council conducted an extensive consultation in which the overwhelming majority of barristers responded in favour of retaining court dress including wigs. This resulted in the issuing of the Revised Guidance on Court Dress in June 2009.

Tradition in legal dress, then, of which wigs are an undeniably core element, remains strong, despite changes over the years. Legal wigs have evolved time and again over the centuries since their introduction – future evolution may be on the horizon.

This post was prepared in cooperation with the Middle Temple Archive.

Middle Temple Dress Codes

Over the centuries, members of the Middle Temple, from students to Benchers, have had their clothing discussed, disputed and delimited by outside statute and internal order. In this post, we look at some occasions on which dress codes have been imposed upon Middle Templars – and occasions on which such codes have been violated.

One of the earliest records of costume at the Middle Temple is a document describing life at the Inn during the reign of King Henry VIII. Covering a wide range of aspects of the Society’s habits and governance, including the manner of study, discipline, food prices and staff wages, it also describes the mode of dress amongst Middle Templars. The document states that while members of the Inn ‘have no order for their apparell’, each Middle Templar ‘may go as him listeth so that his apparell pretend no lightnesse, or wantonesse in the wearer’. The original document is part of the Robert Cotton collection at the British Library, but a transcript of it from a century or so later was recently discovered amongst the archive’s collection of loose papers.

henry viii
Extract from a manuscript copy of the state, orders and customs of the Middle Temple, taken from a report to Henry VIII (HI/6/FW)

In Tudor England, clothing and apparel were closely regulated by what were known as ‘Sumptuary Laws’ – laws which delimited consumption of various sorts. This was chiefly a matter of status – the authorities were concerned that people dress according to their rank or position, and not demonstrate exhibitionist vanity. A statute of 1574, by order of Queen Elizabeth I, fretted that, quite apart from the damage to the realm wrought by the import of flashy foreign fabrics, there was risk of ‘the wasting and undoing of a great number of young gentlemen… allured by the vain show of these things’.

Elizabeth I
Portrait engraving of Queen Elizabeth I (MT.19/POR/245)

This atmosphere of tailoring totalitarianism was felt everywhere in society, even within the cloistered precincts of the Inns of Court. The minutes of the Middle Temple’s Parliament from the mid-sixteenth to early seventeenth centuries are littered with detailed sartorial diktats.

For example, in 1557 orders were made that ‘none of the Companies except Knights or Benchers shall wear in their doublets or hose any light colour except scarlet and crimson, or wear any upper velvet cap, or any scarf or wing in their gowns’. Members of the Inns were forbidden from wearing their ‘study gowns’ into the City, from wearing ‘Spanish cloak, sword and buckler’ in commons, and from wearing their beard over three weeks’ growth.

Parliament 1558 b beards
Order of Parliament that no one below the rank of Knight wear a beard above ‘three weeks growing’, Minutes of Parliament, 1557 (MT.1/MPA/3)
Parliament 1558 doublets size
Order of Parliament concerning the colour of doublets, velvet caps and scarfs in gowns, Minutes of Parliament, 1557 (MT.1/MPA/3)

Transgressions against these rules are also recorded extensively in the archive. On Friday, 23 May 1617, four young Middle Templars were hauled before Parliament to answer for a terrible crime: wearing hats in Hall. Not to be cowed, they appeared before the Benchers in hats, boots and spurs, and were threatened with expulsion.

Things grew worse, as the minutes of the subsequent Parliament relate, describing the Benchers’ frets about a ‘great conspiracy among the gentlemen of the Fellowship’. Many members had taken to dining in their own rooms rather than Hall – presumably in order to wear their hats in peace, free of disturbance or censure.

Sir Nicholas Crispe
Portrait engraving of Sir Nicholas Crispe (1599-1666), sporting flamboyant fashions (MT.19/POR/188)

One incident arose concerning a clash between a barrister’s court dress and his position within the Inn. In 1668, Francis North (later 1st Baron Guilford and Lord Keeper of the Great Seal) was made a KC at the tender age of 31. Barristers of this distinction had, of late, taken to wearing a cloth gown with velvet facings, lace and tufts (traditionally a ‘Reader’s Gown’), and so North understandably started to wear one. He was taken to task by Sir Thomas Twisden, a judge, for wearing such a gown without being a Reader, or Bencher, of the Middle Temple. An engraving of a near contemporary and a Bencher of the Inn, Sir Geoffrey Palmer, demonstrates the style of gown in question.

Geoffrey Palmer cropped fully
Portrait engraving of Sir Geoffrey Palmer (MT.19/POR/531)

Eventually, the Benchers resolved the dilemma by Calling North to join their number, leaving him at liberty to wear his gown free from criticism or outrage. He did eventually serve as Reader in 1671 – his Reader’s Feast, described by his brother Roger North as one of ‘debauchery, disorder and waste’, was attended by the Archbishop of Canterbury. His portrait hangs today in the Prince’s Room.

CC Sir Francis North 1st Baron Guilford
Portrait of Francis North, 1st Baron Guilford

Dress codes at the Inn did not dominate in quite so much exacting detail again after this period, though gowns in particular remained an issue. In 1819, one W. Boyd removed his gown during dinner and sat on without it, despite the Chief Butler’s reference to various Orders enforcing the wearing of gowns at dinner. In the end the Benchers ordered that he be expelled from the Hall, and be put out of Commons for his ‘Contumacy’.

Boyd Order 1

Boyd Order 2
Order for W. Boyd to be put out of Commons following his refusal to wear his gown during dinner, Minutes of Parliament, 1819 (MT.1/MPA/11)

Gowns continued to be a source of controversy as the nineteenth century unfolded – in 1840, Master Girdlestone submitted a motion to Parliament ahead of the 6 November meeting proposing that the wearing of gowns to Parliament be dispensed with. There are no records of his proposal having formally been discussed, and no Order was made on the subject.

Today, of course, there are still dress codes enforced at the Inn, though these now most commonly govern dress in Hall, and are not applicable to members going about the general Temple precincts. The code of dress for lunch, in particular, is informed by modern fashion – while once velvet caps and scarlet doublets were outlawed, nowadays the regulations focus on t-shirts and trainers. The unacceptability of wearing a sword to lunch is, however, understood still to be very much in force.

Barnaby Bryan, Assistant Archivist

To learn more about legal fashion both in and beyond the Inn, visit Michaelmas 2018’s Library exhibition, “Legal ‘Fashion’: From Mantles to Mourning Hoods” at Middle Temple Library.

This post was first published as an Archive of the Month article here.