| Summary |
John Mortimer's famed barrister Rumpole of the Bailey has bowed out of legal service, with the finale of the television show airing in 1992. An amiable and slightly eccentric old-fashioned English character, Rumpole endeared himself to the public and established an icon in the legal world.
Mortimer was the barrister's creator and wrote a series of books about Rumpole and the cases he handled. The books were so popular that they went on to become a highly successful television series. The show ran for 16 years and delighted fans as Rumpole's wit and wisdom were displayed in various legal cases.
Rumpole's classic unchanging character and his witty language were the main attractions of the show. He was a barrister who was more concerned with justice rather than simply winning cases. His loyalty to his client was unwavering and admirable. Moreover, he was a master of courtroom improvisation and could, with a few well-chosen words, turn a seemingly hopeless case into a victory.
Rumpole was also noted for his fondness for a pint of beer, a cigar and a plate of oxtail and red cabbage. The food and drink of choice became a signature of the series.
Rumpole was an endearing character as he often questioned the behavior of enforcing legal conventions. He was a symbol of justice, but also a symbol of the ability to think outside the box. He represented a sense of freedom in the legal profession that was often denied.
Rumpole's retirement after 16 memorable years marked the end of an era in the law. He embraced justice wholeheartedly and his memory will live on in the legal world. People continue to be inspired by Rumpole and the lessons he taught us about advocating for our clients and about good old-fashioned human justice.
John Mortimer's iconic lawyer, Rumpole of the Bailey, will be fondly remembered for his wit and wisdom. The public adored Rumpole for his endearing character, his fondness for beer and cigars, and his devotion to justice. He was a symbol of freedom in the legal profession and his legacy is sure to live on in the legal world.
Rumpole Rests His Case
Rumpole of the Bailey, that famous British television show from the 1970s, is fondly remembered by millions who tuned in each week to watch the inimitable barrister, Horace Rumpole, defend his clients with fearless wit and intelligence. John Mortimer, who created the character and wrote the screenplay, has been credited with creating one of the most memorable and beloved legal practitioners of all time.In the show, Horace Rumpole was an unapologetic barrister who skirted the rules of the courtroom, but always got the result he was looking for. His wit and intelligence were legendary, and viewers salivated at the prospect of each new episode to see how his clever tactics would win the day. Rumpole's character was so popular that Mortimer was awarded a prestigious British Academy Award for his work.
The Iconic British Legal Drama
Rumpole of the Bailey first aired in 1975 and ran for a period of six years. It was produced by Thames Television and was based on John Mortimer's novels, Rumpole of the Bailey and The Trials of Rumpole. The show has since become a cult classic in Britain, with viewers of all ages and classes tuning in each week to follow the antics of the beloved barrister.The series portrays the life of the barrister Horace Rumpole in the criminal courts of London. It follows him as he defends a variety of clients, and deals with ethical dilemmas and the intricacies of the English legal system. In each episode, Rumpole unflinchingly upholds the principles of justice and fairness, always protecting the innocent and tirelessly working to secure his clients' innocence or a reduced sentence.
The Popularity of Rumpole
The show was an instant hit when it first aired and remains one of the most popular British television shows of all time. It has become a cultural touchstone, with millions of viewers tuning in each week to watch the latest episode. It has won numerous awards, including BAFTA awards for Best Drama Series and Best Single Drama.Rumpole of the Bailey became an international success, airing in more than 30 countries. It continues to be popular today, with fans gathering in person or online to discuss their favorite episodes and to marvel at the wit and intelligence of the brilliant barrister.
In the firmament of fictional lawyers, Rumpole is a bright star. More than a star, he's a nebula. The claret-swilling barrister of the Old Bailey, Britain's famous criminal court, always gets his man (or woman)... off the hook. In so doing, he neatly inverts the multibillion-dollar formula of American crime fiction (including television, movies, and senate hearings), which is predicated on our pleasure in seeing malefactors smited by the iron scales of Justice (not to mention her sword). Instead of socially acceptable schadenfreude, we delight in Rumpole's quest to save the innocent from her attentions. Of course, he is a defense lawyer, so that explains it.
Although well-known and well-regarded — indeed widely loved — in Britain, whence he originates, Rumpole is not very well known in the States. Certainly not as well as he should be. He has a smallish cult following, not unlike Lord Blackadder's, or David Brent's, or Basil Fawlty's, or Sir John Falstaff's, or any of the other glittering cast of comedic characters that the British have produced (with the glaring exceptions of Mr. Bean and Benny Hill) to general acclaim.
The curmudgeonly barrister, who lives in fear of She Who Must Be Obeyed (his wife), muddles his way through each case to see that justice is done. He is not an avuncular hayseed like Matlock, but an urbane, worldly man who wears his learning lightly and has a keen sense of justice and the absurd, as well as the often uncomfortable juxtaposition between the two. He is an ironist, which might usefully be defined as someone who sees the futility of earthly projects, yet rejoices (quietly) in their futility. In real life, John Mortimer, Rumpole's creator, is a well-known raconteur and even a pundit of sorts. He is not, alas, nearly as entertaining as his fictional creation. It is perhaps no coincidence that he was a barrister with a taste for, er, claret before taking up the pen himself.
If little green men were to land on earth tomorrow, they would be hard-pressed to understand that the culture that produced The Firm, and the one that produced Rumpole, are actually part of the same civilization. In fact, if the aliens were capable of rational thought, they would likely throw their fifteen-fingered hands in the air and flee to another, more easily comprehensible planet.
Prima facie, Rumpole's world is a strange one to American eyes. As someone who once worked for a barrister of considerable Rumpolian charm, I had a leg-up in grasping the setting. But I have never worked in a Slough paper merchant's, moonlighted as an hotelier in Torquay, or waited on a buffoonish aristocrat in Queen Elizabeth's court; yet I have enjoyed following the fortunes of these figures of fun with immense pleasure. In short, you do not need to be personally familiar with the setting to grasp and enjoy the humor. True comedy transcends national boundaries, and the particulars of time and place (cf, Aristophanes). But as an attorney, you have a leg up on understanding Rumpole's trials, tribulations, and triumphs.
The endless 'M'Lud's' ('My Lord' in plainer English); the formal, stilted grammar of the courtroom; the strangely preening deference of counsel; the collegial, bibulous nature of the Bar; the grotesque unfairness of it all.
In many respects, this is an alien world. Or is it?
To read Rumpole is to see our own legal system through a glass darkly - if the glass was pointed hundreds of years in the past. Barristers to this day mince around in horsehair wigs (courtesy of the Restoration, and the baroque, transplanted fashions of the court of the Sun King) and black gowny get-ups that our Founding Fathers might have found rather fetching, if recherché. The only thing missing to complete the quasi-Colonial feel would be a set of wooden teeth, although in fairness to him, by British standards George Washington had a decent set of choppers. At least an NHS dentist never laid hands on them.
Despite the many and ongoing kerfuffles about modernizing the British judicial system, much of the archaic and the arcane remain, and not only as residual pomp and ceremony. Perhaps now would be a good time to witness this, before too long, when Rumpole will be read in an elegiac manner, as an historical artifact.
Then there is the matter of the stories themselves, which revolve around Rumpole's character in much the way that the moon orbits earth. They are well-crafted, well-plotted, and well-written. That they are merely vehicles for the exposition of Rumpole's character does not detract from their considerable charm. Anyone who has sat through a trial in the United Kingdom will recognize that some of the situations, and even some of the characters, are very much true to life.
For example, I once watched a case in which a barrister was harshly interrupted when he said "raison d'etre" in an argument by a judge who demanded to know why he didn't just say "the main reason." These sorts of priceless interactions pepper the narrative. Under their breath, barristers sometimes refer to Circuit Court judges as Circus Court judges. And so on.
Although Rumpole does his level best to win their acquittal, his clients are not necessarily models of probity. In short, they are not necessarily "innocent" in a galactic sense. But that is part of the stories' rugged charm - the cast of eccentrics that Rumpole makes his living defending. This again departs from what might be described as our domestic norm, which tends to cast the innocent as entirely innocent, and the guilty guilty as sin.
For those who enjoy television comedy (and who with even a modicum of humanity does not?), there is a screen version available on DVD that has won plaudits from the author himself. Of those things which I can not speak, I must pass over in silence. Unfortunately, the actor who played Rumpole on television, Leo Kern, died in 2002, even before the series itself, and its now elderly creator, have passed on to the next world.
If this is not Chicken Soup for the Soul, and thank goodness for that, perhaps it is spiritual coq au vin. What could be better than to curl up with a collection of these marvelous stories on a rainy afternoon with a bottle of Pomeroy's finest to hand? (That is, if anyone can locate the much sought-after Château Thames Embankment. Call me if you can.)
