A romp for Rumpole fans

THE British barrister, like the American trial lawyer, may often be something of a dramatist, combining the roles of playwright, actor and director in planning and presenting a case before the audience of judge and jury. John Mortimer, a prominent member of the British bar (he argued for the defense in the "Lady Chatterley's Lover" case), has also distinguished himself as a writer and dramatist. Probably his most famous creation, certainly the best known to American public television viewers, has been the crusty but endearing old defense lawyer Horace Rumpole.

Can anyone think of Rumpole without conjuring up the image of the late Leo McKern, the superb British character actor who played the role to such perfection? Overweight, badly dressed, with a face like a well-worn sofa and a head crammed full of legal precedents, forensic expertise and apt quotations from the Bard and other literary classics, Rumpole is a master of the art of cross-examination and the bane of complacent judges who automatically assume that the accused is damn well guilty.

Rumpole is also the hapless husband of the overbearing Hilda (a.k.a. "She Who Must Be Obeyed"), who seems to be perpetually disappointed that the promising young lawyer she married all those years ago never rose to the position of prominence in his profession that was enjoyed by her father. Rumpole, in turn, is always complaining about having to make enough money to satisfy what he considers Hilda's unreasonable demands: He particularly resents her purchases of household cleaning materials, preferring to spend his money on cigars and cheap plonk at Pomeroy's wine bar.

In terms of his position in the legal profession, Rumpole has never risen to the level of his creator. . Both, however, have a love for literature, and Mortimer, in addition, is the master of a crisp, witty, eminently readable prose style. Rumpole also seems to share his creator's distinctive political views: staunchly liberal on some issues, particularly the legal rights of defendants charged with crimes; suspicious of the establishment, yet wary of newfangled notions such as smoke-free workplaces, sexual harassment suits and celebrities' rights to privacy.

A tad hostile at first to the incursion of women into his profession, Rumpole soon appreciates intelligence and merit when he sees it in a woman like his feminist colleague "Mizz" Liz Probert or Phyllida Erskine-Brown, formerly "the Portia of our Chambers," and lately elevated to a judgeship.