From Matt Hardwick QC (17.01.21):
Richard’s sudden passing is impossible to make any sense of. And in this impossibly cruel time we cannot even grieve together. All we have is words, as fragile and inadequate as they seem in relation to a loss as huge as this.
I met Richard when I was 16 years old on a European Choir Tour: 60 singers from a wide range of schools put together by the great Ralph Allwood. We travelled, by coach, from London, via cities such as Nuremberg, Vienna and Venice where we gave concerts along the way.
Richard was a year a couple of years older than me. He appeared incredibly sophisticated and debonair - impeccably turned out in tweed jacket and chinos. I have flashes of memories of him (cigar in hand) in various cafes and concert halls. I think I first spoke to him St. Marks Square in Venice, where some of us busked for an hour (singing through our repertoire of anthems and being showered with lira by onlookers). I have a picture of him and a friend leaning against a building, smoking a cigar and smiling broadly. I was immediately taken by how friendly and welcoming he was. No airs or graces. Completely open natured. And with a real passion for the arts and music.
A few years later our paths crossed again at Trinity College, Cambridge (late 1980s). I was reading Classics; Richard English. Neither of us any had any thought at that time for a career in law. And so when in 1994 a series of chance events lead to my being offered a pupillage at 3 Gray’s Inn Place (but with Annie Hockaday’s strict 48 hour guillotine in which to make a decision) I was delighted to find that Richard was a pupil there. I called him: what was 3 GIP like? Richard could not have been more enthusiastic: Chambers was, he assured me, a marvellous place full of the friendliest people and with incredibly diverse and interesting practices (from pop bands to EU law). This was the place to be.
When I arrived in September 1994 I was surprised to find that Richard had not been taken on as a tenant and was in the midst of what can be the dispiriting process of applying for a 3rd six pupillage elsewhere. Yet I remember, too, being struck by how calm and positive he seemed. He had an interview lined up at XXIV Old Buildings – and he was sure things would turn out fine.
And then Richard’s dream case hove, serendipitously, into view. Nick Merriman QC, with Ali as his junior, were representing a film finance company. As far as I remember, their client company had paid a very large sum to finance a film (“Mesmer”) about the 18th century Austrian doctor / maverick Franz Mesmer. The film was directed by Roger Spottiswoode and with a script by Dennis Potter. Alan Rickman had the lead role.
It was supposed (claimed the company) to contain a strong romantic narrative, giving it wide commercial appeal. Yet (so the company complained) Alan Rickman had had his own particular view of his role, resulting in a raft of subtle script changes that fundamentally altered the nature of the film. When it came to a final viewing, the company claimed that it was dry and unsellable.
Richard’s 12-month pupillage had come to and. But he was still in Chambers and with time on his hands. An analysis was urgently required of (1) the original script (as approved by the finance company); and (2) the Alan Rickman amendments.
Richard was made for this. And, as Ali’s first 3-month pupil, I had the great fortune of seeing this fascinating case unfold. I do not think it had ever occurred to Richard that he had any prospect of reversing the original tenancy decision. He was just entirely intrigued and absorbed by the task at hand. Word by word, line by line, Richard analysed the text: identifying the slight changes made by Rickman; and then explaining, quite brilliantly, the real impact that such changes made on the narrative.
Richard’s literary criticism was a masterpiece. I will never forget Nick Merriman’s cross-examination of Alan Rickman one winter’s afternoon, before Charles Gray, armed with Richard’s great work. It lit up the court room. The case was won.
The inevitable followed: the tenancy decision was reversed. Richard was taken on – and, of course, he never looked back.
Yet, and as others have already observed, Richard’s way (both as a pupil and then 25 years of practice) is a timely reminder that what is often portrayed as a cut throat world need not be. Richard never elbowed or pushed. It would not have occurred to him. He was extraordinarily kind and decent and generous. His room was an oasis of beautiful music and generous advice. Hearings with (and against) Richard were an absolute pleasure.
I cannot make any sense of the fact that Richard will no longer be that ever-friendly face and voice at the end of our corridor in Building 1, Floor 1. Always smiling, always ready for a chat, some new glorious piece of music playing. I am now filled with regret that I did not make more time: spend longer in his room; linger with a cup of coffee; make time for lunch in Hall. It is all too easy in Chambers to take each other for granted. To imagine that, as colleagues for ever, one day we will have time to catch up.
I am left thinking that Richard’s far too early death is a reminder that that gets it all the wrong way around. Richard always made time for us. Perhaps the best we can do now is make more time for each other.
From Matt Hardwick QC (17.01.21):
Richard’s sudden passing is impossible to make any sense of. And in this impossibly cruel time we cannot even grieve together. All we have is words, as fragile and inadequate as they seem in relation to a loss as huge as this.
I met Richard when I was 16 years old on a European Choir Tour: 60 singers from a wide range of schools put together by the great Ralph Allwood. We travelled, by coach, from London, via cities such as Nuremberg, Vienna and Venice where we gave concerts along the way.
Richard was a year a couple of years older than me. He appeared incredibly sophisticated and debonair - impeccably turned out in tweed jacket and chinos. I have flashes of memories of him (cigar in hand) in various cafes and concert halls. I think I first spoke to him St. Marks Square in Venice, where some of us busked for an hour (singing through our repertoire of anthems and being showered with lira by onlookers). I have a picture of him and a friend leaning against a building, smoking a cigar and smiling broadly. I was immediately taken by how friendly and welcoming he was. No airs or graces. Completely open natured. And with a real passion for the arts and music.
A few years later our paths crossed again at Trinity College, Cambridge (late 1980s). I was reading Classics; Richard English. Neither of us any had any thought at that time for a career in law. And so when in 1994 a series of chance events lead to my being offered a pupillage at 3 Gray’s Inn Place (but with Annie Hockaday’s strict 48 hour guillotine in which to make a decision) I was delighted to find that Richard was a pupil there. I called him: what was 3 GIP like? Richard could not have been more enthusiastic: Chambers was, he assured me, a marvellous place full of the friendliest people and with incredibly diverse and interesting practices (from pop bands to EU law). This was the place to be.
When I arrived in September 1994 I was surprised to find that Richard had not been taken on as a tenant and was in the midst of what can be the dispiriting process of applying for a 3rd six pupillage elsewhere. Yet I remember, too, being struck by how calm and positive he seemed. He had an interview lined up at XXIV Old Buildings – and he was sure things would turn out fine.
And then Richard’s dream case hove, serendipitously, into view. Nick Merriman QC, with Ali as his junior, were representing a film finance company. As far as I remember, their client company had paid a very large sum to finance a film (“Mesmer”) about the 18th century Austrian doctor / maverick Franz Mesmer. The film was directed by Roger Spottiswoode and with a script by Dennis Potter. Alan Rickman had the lead role.
It was supposed (claimed the company) to contain a strong romantic narrative, giving it wide commercial appeal. Yet (so the company complained) Alan Rickman had had his own particular view of his role, resulting in a raft of subtle script changes that fundamentally altered the nature of the film. When it came to a final viewing, the company claimed that it was dry and unsellable.
Richard’s 12-month pupillage had come to and. But he was still in Chambers and with time on his hands. An analysis was urgently required of (1) the original script (as approved by the finance company); and (2) the Alan Rickman amendments.
Richard was made for this. And, as Ali’s first 3-month pupil, I had the great fortune of seeing this fascinating case unfold. I do not think it had ever occurred to Richard that he had any prospect of reversing the original tenancy decision. He was just entirely intrigued and absorbed by the task at hand. Word by word, line by line, Richard analysed the text: identifying the slight changes made by Rickman; and then explaining, quite brilliantly, the real impact that such changes made on the narrative.
Richard’s literary criticism was a masterpiece. I will never forget Nick Merriman’s cross-examination of Alan Rickman one winter’s afternoon, before Charles Gray, armed with Richard’s great work. It lit up the court room. The case was won.
The inevitable followed: the tenancy decision was reversed. Richard was taken on – and, of course, he never looked back.
Yet, and as others have already observed, Richard’s way (both as a pupil and then 25 years of practice) is a timely reminder that what is often portrayed as a cut throat world need not be. Richard never elbowed or pushed. It would not have occurred to him. He was extraordinarily kind and decent and generous. His room was an oasis of beautiful music and generous advice. Hearings with (and against) Richard were an absolute pleasure.
I cannot make any sense of the fact that Richard will no longer be that ever-friendly face and voice at the end of our corridor in Building 1, Floor 1. Always smiling, always ready for a chat, some new glorious piece of music playing. I am now filled with regret that I did not make more time: spend longer in his room; linger with a cup of coffee; make time for lunch in Hall. It is all too easy in Chambers to take each other for granted. To imagine that, as colleagues for ever, one day we will have time to catch up.
I am left thinking that Richard’s far too early death is a reminder that that gets it all the wrong way around. Richard always made time for us. Perhaps the best we can do now is make more time for each other.
