trickery of counsel. Doubtless counsel may try to throw dust in the
eyes of jurors, but they are not very successful. Lord Campbell tells a
story of Clarke, who by such tactics brought a case to a satisfactory
compromise. The attorney, coming to him privately, said, "Sir, don't you
think we have got very good terms? But you rather went beyond my
instructions."--"You fool!" retorted Clarke; "how do you suppose you
could have got such terms if I had stuck to your instructions."
[Illustration: JOHN ADOLPHUS, BARRISTER.]
In the biography of John Adolphus, a famous criminal lawyer, we are told
that the judges of his time were much impressed with the following table
of degrees. "The three degrees of comparison in a lawyer's progress are:
getting on; getting on-er (honour); getting on-est (honest)." He
declared the judges acknowledged much truth in the degrees. The third
degree in Mr. Adolphus' table reminds us of the story of the farmer who
was met by the head of a firm of solicitors, who inquired the name of a
plant the farmer was carrying. "It's a plant," replied the latter, "that
will not grow in a lawyer's garden; it is called honesty."
One night, walking through St. Giles's by way of a short cut towards
home, an Irish woman came up to Mr. Adolphus. "Why, Misther Adolphus!
and who'd a' thought of seeing you in the Holy Ground?"--"And how came
you to know who I am?" said Adolphus. "Lord bless and save ye, sir!
not know ye? Why, I'd know ye if ye was boiled up in a soup!"
Mr. Montagu Chambers was counsel for a widow who had been put in a
lunatic asylum, and sued the two medical men who signed the certificate
of her insanity. The plaintiff's case was to prove that she was not
addicted to drinking, and that there was no pretence for treating hers
as a case of _delirium tremens_. Dr. Tunstal, the last of plaintiff's
witnesses, described one case in which he had cured a patient of
_delirium tremens_ in a _single night_, and he added, "It was a case of
gradual drinking, _sipping all day_ from morning till night." These
words were scarcely uttered when Mr. Chambers rose in triumph, and said,
"My lord, that is _my case_."
* * * * *
On the Northern Circuit a century ago, there was a famous barrister who
was familiarly known among his brother advocates as Jack Lee. He was
engaged in examining one Mary Pritchard, of Barnsley, and began his
examination with, "Well, Mary, if I may credit what I hear, I may
venture to address you by the name of Black Moll."--"Faith you may,
mister lawyer, for I am always called so by the blackguards." On another
occasion he was retained for the plaintiff in an action for breach of
promise of marriage. When the consultation took place, he inquired
whether the lady for whose injury he was to seek redress was
good-looking. "Very handsome indeed, sir," was the assurance of her
attorney. "Then, sir," replied Lee, "I beg you will request her to be in
Court, and in a place where she can be seen." The attorney promised
compliance, and the lady, in accordance with Lee's wishes, took her seat
in a conspicuous place, where the jury could see her. Lee, in addressing
the jury, did not fail to insist with great warmth on the "abominable
cruelty" which had been exercised towards "the highly attractive and
modest girl who trusted her cause to their discernment"; and did not sit
down until he had succeeded in working upon their feelings with great
and, as he thought, successful effect. The counsel on the other side,
however, speedily broke the spell with which Lee had enchanted the jury,
by observing that "his learned friend, in describing the graces and
beauty of the plaintiff, ought in common fairness not to have concealed
from the jury the fact that the lady had a _wooden leg_!" The Court was
convulsed with laughter at this discovery, while Lee, who was ignorant
of this circumstance, looked aghast; and the jury, ashamed of the
influence that mere eloquence had had upon them, returned a verdict for
the defendant.
Justice Willes, the son of Chief Justice Willes, had an offensive habit
of interrupting counsel. On one occasion an old practitioner was so
irritated by this practice that he retorted sharply by saying, "Your
lordship doubtless shows greater acuteness even than your father, the
Chief Justice, for he used to understand me _after I had done_, but your
lordship understands me even _before I have begun_."
Of Whigham, a later leader on the Northern Circuit, an amusing story
used to be told. He was defending a prisoner, and opened an alibi in his
address to the jury, undertaking to prove it by calling the person who
had been in bed with his client at the time in question, and deprecating
their evil opinion of a woman whose moral character was clearly open to
grave reproach, but who was still entitled to be believed upon her oath.
Then he called "Jessie Crabtree." The name was, as usual, repeated by
the crier, and there came pushing his way sturdily through the crowd a
big Lancashire lad in his rough dress, who had been the prisoner's
veritable bedfellow--Whigham's brief not having explained to him that
the Christian name of his witness was, in this case, a male one.
Colman, in his _Random Records_, tells the following anecdote of the
witty barrister, Mr. Jekyll. One day observing a squirrel in Colman's
chambers, in the usual round cage, performing the same operation as a
man in a tread-mill, and looking at it for a minute, exclaimed, "Oh!
poor devil, he's going the Home Circuit."
Jekyll was asked why he no longer spoke to a lawyer named Peat; to which
he replied, "I choose to give up his acquaintance--I have common of
turbary, and have a right to cut _peat_!" An impromptu of his on a
learned serjeant who was holding the Court of Common Pleas with his
glittering eye, is well known:
"Behold the serjeant full of fire,
Long shall his hearers rue it,
His purple garments _came_ from Tyre,
His arguments _go to it_."
Mr. H. L. Adam, in his volume _The Story of Crime_, tells an amusing
story of a prisoner whose counsel had successfully obtained his
acquittal on a charge of brutal assault. A policeman came across a man
one night lying unconscious on the pavement, and near by him was an
ordinary "bowler" hat. That was the only clue to the perpetrator of the
deed. The police had their suspicions of a certain individual, whom they
proceeded to interrogate. In addition to being unable to give a
satisfactory account of his movements on the night of the assault, it
was found that the "bowler" hat in question fitted him like a glove. He
was accordingly arrested and charged with the crime, the hat being the
chief evidence against him. Counsel for the defence, however, dwelt so
impressively on the risk of accepting such evidence that the jury
brought in a verdict of "not proven," and the prisoner was discharged.
Before leaving the dock he turned to the judge, and pointing to the
hat in Court, said, "My lord, may I 'ave my 'at."
* * * * *
Some amusing scenes have occurred in suits brought by tailors and
dressmakers to recover the price of garments for which their customers
have declined to pay on the ground of misfit. Serjeant Ballantine, in
his _Experiences of a Barrister_, relates the case of a tailor in which
the defendant was the famous Sir Edwin Landseer. It was tried in the
Exchequer Court, before Baron Martin. "The coat was produced," says the
serjeant, "and the judge suggested that Sir Edwin should try it on; he
made a wry face, but consented, and took off his own upper garment. He
then put an arm into one of the sleeves of that in dispute, and made an
apparently ineffectual endeavour to reach the other, following it round
amidst roars of laughter from all parts of the Court. It was a common
jury, and I was told that there was a tailor upon it, upon which I
suggested that there was a gentleman of the same profession as the
plaintiff in Court who might assist Sir Edwin. This was acceded to, and
out hopped a little Hebrew slop-seller from the Minories, to whom the
defendant submitted his body. With difficulty he got into the coat, and
then stood as if spitted, his back one mass of wrinkles. The tableau was
truly amusing; the indignant plaintiff looking at the performance with
mingled horror and disgust; Sir Edwin, as if he were choking; whilst the
juryman, with the air of a connoisseur, was examining him and the coat
with profound gravity. At last the judge, when able to stifle his
laughter, addressing the little Hebrew, said, 'Well, Mr. Moses, what do
you say?'--'Oh,' cried he, holding up a pair of hands not over clean,
and very different from those encased in lavender gloves which graced
the plaintiff, 'it ish poshitively shocking, my lord; I should have been
ashamed to turn out such a thing from my establishment.' The rest of the
jury accepted his view, and Sir Edwin, apparently relieved from
suffocation, entered his own coat with a look of relief, which again
convulsed the Court, bowed, and departed."
* * * * *
Financial prosecutions are as a rule very dreary, and any little joke
perpetrated by counsel during the course of them is a relief. One was
being heard, in which Mr. Muir was counsel, and to many of his
statements the junior counsel for the prosecution shook his head
vehemently, although he said nothing. This continual dumb contradiction
at length got on the customary patience of Mr. Muir, who blurted out: "I
do not know why my friend keeps shaking his head, whether it is that he
has palsy, or that there's nothing in it!"
Mr. Baldwin was the counsel employed to oppose a person justifying bail
in the Court of King's Bench. After some common questions, a waggish
counsel sitting near suggested that the witness should be asked as to
his having been a prisoner in Gloucester gaol. Mr. Baldwin thereon
boldly asked: "When, sir, were you last in Gloucester gaol?" The
witness, a respectable tradesman, with astonishment declared that he
never was in a gaol in his life. Mr. Baldwin being foiled after putting
the question in various ways, turned round to his friendly prompter, and
asked for what the man had been imprisoned. He was told that it was for
suicide. Thereupon Mr. Baldwin, with great gravity and solemnity
addressed the witness: "Now, sir, I ask you upon your oath, and remember
that I shall have your words taken down, were you not imprisoned in
Gloucester gaol for suicide?"
A young lawyer who had just "taken the coif," once said to Samuel
Warren, the author of _Ten Thousand a Year_: "Hah! Warren, I never could
manage to get quite through that novel of yours. What did you do with
Oily Gammon?"--"Oh," replied Warren, "I made a serjeant of him, and of
course he never was heard of afterwards."
[Illustration: SAMUEL WARREN, Q.C., MASTER IN LUNACY.]
* * * * *
Warner Sleigh, a great thieves' counsel, was not debarred by etiquette
from taking instructions direct from his clients. One day, following a
rap on the door of his chambers in Middle Temple Lane, a thick-set man,
with cropped poll of unmistakably Newgate cut, slunk into the room, when
the following colloquy took place.
"Mornin', sir," said the man, touching his forelock. "Morning," replied
counsel. "What do you want?"--"Well, sir, I'm sorry to say, sir, our
little Ben, sir, has 'ad a misfortin'; fust offence, sir, only a
'wipe'--"--"Well, well!" interrupted counsel. "Get on."--"So, sir, we
thought as you've 'ad all the family business we'd like you to defend
'im, sir."--"All right," said counsel; "see my clerk--."--"Yessir,"
continued the thief; "but I thought I'd like to make sure you'd attend
yourself, sir; we're anxious, 'cos it's little Ben, our youngest
kid."--"Oh! that will be all right. Give Simmons the fee."--"Well, sir,"
continued the man, shifting about uneasily, "I was going to arst you,
sir, to take a little less. You see, sir (wheedlingly), it's little
Ben--his first misfortin'."--"No, no," said the counsel impatiently.
"Clear out!"--"But, sir, you've 'ad all our business. Well, sir, if you
won't, you won't, so I'll pay you now, sir." And as he doled out the
guineas: "I may as well tell you, sir, you wouldn't 'a' got the
'couties' if I 'adn't 'ad a little bit o' luck on the way."
The gravity of the Court of Appeal was once seriously disturbed by
Edward Bullen reading to them the following paragraph from a pleading in
an action for seduction: "The defendant denies that he is the father of
the said twins, _or of either of them_." This he apologetically
explained was due to an accident in his pupil-room, but everyone
recognised the style of the master-hand.
* * * * *
Serjeant Adams, who acted as assistant judge at the sessions, had a very
pleasant wit, and knew how to deal with any counsel who took to
"high-falutin." On one occasion, after an altercation with the judge,
the counsel for the prisoner in his address to the jury reminded them
that "they were the great palladium of British Liberty--that it was
_their_ province to deal with the facts, the _judge_ with the law--that
they formed one of the great institutions of their country, and that
they came in with William the Conqueror." Adams at the end of his
summing up said: "Gentlemen, you will want to retire to consider your
verdict, and as it seems you came in with the Conqueror you can now go
out with the beadle."
There was always a mystery how Edwin James, who at the Bar was earning
an income of at least £10,000 a year, was continually in monetary
difficulties. Like Sir Thomas Lawrence, he must have had some private
drain on his resources which was never disclosed. Among others who
suffered was the landlord of his chambers, whose rent was very much in
arrear. In the end the landlord hit upon a plan to discover which would
be the best method of recovering his rent, and one day asked James to
advise him on a legal matter in which he was interested, and thereupon
drew up a statement of his grievance against his own tenant. The paper
was duly returned to the landlord next day with the following sentence
subjoined: "In my opinion this is a case which admits of only one
remedy--patience. Edwin James."
In a case before Lord Campbell, James took a line with a witness which
his lordship considered quite inadmissible, and stopped him. When
summing up to the jury Lord Campbell thought to soften his interruption
by saying: "You will have observed, gentlemen, that I felt it my duty to
stop Mr. Edwin James in a certain line which he sought to adopt in the
cross-examination of one of the witnesses; but at the same time I had no
intention to cast any reflection on the learned counsel who I am sure is
known to you all as a most able--" but before his lordship could proceed
any further James interposed, and in a contemptuous voice exclaimed: "My
lord, I have borne your lordship's censure, spare me your lordship's
praise."
* * * * *
Mr. W. G. Thorpe, F.S.A., in his entertaining volume of _Middle Temple
Table Talk_, relates a curious story of a judge taking an extremely
personal interest in a case which was brought before him. A milk company
had sold off a lot of old stock to a cake-maker, and the cake-maker had
declined to pay because the milk had turned out to be poisonous. As the
case went on the judge became more and more exercised. "What do they do
with this stuff?" he asked, pointing to a mass of horrible mixture. "Oh,
my lord, they make cakes of it; it doesn't taste in the cakes."--"Where
do they sell these cakes?" was the judge's next question, and the reply
was, "They are used for certain railway stations, school-treats, and
excursions." Then the defendant specified one of the places. "Bless me!"
said the judge, turning an olive-green, "I had some there myself," and
with a shudder he retired to his private room, returning in a few
minutes wiping his mouth.
There is another story of a counsel defending a woman on a charge of
causing the death of her husband by administering a poisoned cake to
him. "I'll eat some of the cake myself," he said in Court, and took a
bite. Just at this moment a telegram was brought to him to say that his
wife was seriously ill, and he obtained permission to leave in order to
answer the message. He returned, finished his speech, and obtained the
acquittal of his client. It transpired afterwards that the telegram
business was arranged in order that counsel could obtain an emetic
after swallowing the cake.
* * * * *
Mr. Montagu Williams tells a story, in his interesting _Leaves of a
Life_, of two members of the Bar, one of whom had made a large fortune
by his practice, but worked too hard to enjoy his gains, while the
other, who only made a decent living, liked to enjoy life. They met on
one occasion at the end of a long vacation, and the rich man asked his
less fortunate brother what he had been doing. "I have been on the
Continent," the other replied, "and I enjoyed my holiday very much. What
have you been doing?"--"I have been working," said the rich Q.C., "and
have not been out of town; I had lots of work to do."--"What is the use
of it?" queried the other; "you can't carry the money with you when you
die; and if you could, _it would soon melt_."
From the same work we take the following story of Serjeant Ballantine.
On one occasion he was acting in a case with a Jewish solicitor, and it
happened that one of the hostile witnesses also belonged to the same
race. Just as the serjeant was about to examine him, the solicitor
whispered in Ballantine's ear: "Ask him as your first question, if he
isn't a Jew."--"Why, but you're a Jew yourself," said the serjeant in
some surprise. "Never mind, never mind," replied the little solicitor
eagerly. "Please do--just to prejudice the jury."
* * * * *
[Illustration: JOHN ROMILLY, BARON ROMILLY, MASTER OF THE ROLLS.]
No collection of the wit and humour of the Bar would be complete without
some specimens of Sir Frank Lockwood's racy sayings. From Mr. Augustine
Birrell's _Life of Lockwood_ we quote the following:
"A tale is attached to Lockwood's first brief. It was on a petition to
the Master of the Rolls for payment out of Court of a sum of money; and
Lockwood appeared for an official liquidator of a company whose consent
had to be obtained before the Court would part with the fund. Lockwood
was instructed to consent, and his reward was to be three guineas on the
brief and one guinea for consultation. The petition came on in due
course before Lord Romilly, and was made plain to him by counsel for the
petitioner, and still a little plainer by counsel for the principal
respondent.
"Then up rose Lockwood, an imposing figure, and indicated his appearance
in the case.
"'What brings _you_ here?' said Lord Romilly, meaning, I presume, 'Why
need I listen to you?'
"Lockwood looking puzzled, Lord Romilly added a little testily, 'What do
you come here for?'
"The answer was immediate, unexpected, and, accompanied as it was by a
dramatic glance at the outside of his brief, as if to refresh his
memory, triumphant, 'Three and one, my lord!'"
"The following letter is to Mrs. Atkinson:
1 HARE COURT, TEMPLE, E.C., LONDON.
_September 18, '72._
MY DEAR LOO,--I trust it is well with yourself, John, and the
childer.... It is an off-day. We are resting on our legal oars
after a prolonged and determined struggle yesterday. Know!
that near our native hamlet is the level of Hatfield Chase,
whereon are numerous drains. Our drain (speaking from the
Corporation of Hatfield Chase point of view) we have stopped,
for our own purposes. Consequently, the adjacent lands have
been flooded, are flooded, and will continue to be flooded.
The landed gentry wish us to remove our dam, saying that if we
don't they won't be worth a d--n. We answer that we don't care
a d--n.
This interesting case has been simmering in the law-courts
since 1820. The landed gentry got a verdict in their favour at
the last Lincoln Assizes, but find themselves little the
better, as we have appealed, and our dam still reigns
triumphant. Yesterday an application was made to the judge to
order our dam to be removed. In the absence of Mellor, I
donned my forensic armour and did battle for the Corporation.
After two hours' hard fighting, we adjourned for a week; in
the meantime the floods may rise, and the winds blow. The
farmers yelled with rage when they heard that the dam had got
a week's respite. I rather fancy that they will yell louder on
Tuesday, as I hope to win another bloodless victory. It is a
pretty wanton sport, the cream of the joke being that the dam
is no good to us or to anybody else, and we have no real
objection to urge against its removal, excepting that such a
measure would be informal, and contrary to the law as laid
down some hundred years ago by an old gentleman who never
heard of a steam-engine, and who would have fainted at the
sight of a telegraph post. As we have the most money on our
side, I trust we shall win in the end. None of this useful
substance, however, comes my way, as it is Mellor's work. But
I hope to reap some advantage from it, both as to experience
and introduction. I make no apology for troubling you with
this long narration. I wish it to sink into your mind, and
into that of your good husband. Let it be a warning to you and
yours. And never by any chance become involved in any
difficulties which will bring you into a court of law of
higher jurisdiction than a police court. An occasional 'drunk
and disorderly' will do you no harm, and only cost you 5_s._
Beyond a little indulgence of this kind--beware! In all
probability I shall be in the North in a few weeks. Sessions
commence next month. I will write to the Mum this week.--With
best love to all, I am, Your affectionate brother,
FRANK LOCKWOOD."
"Mr. Mellor vouches for the following story, which, as it illustrates
Lockwood's humour and had gone the round of the newspapers, I will tell.
It is the ancient custom of the new Lord Mayor of London, attended by
the Recorder and Sheriffs, to come into the law-courts and be introduced
to the Lord Chief Justice or, if he is not there, to the senior judge to
be found on the premises, and, after a little lecture from the Bench, to
return good for evil by inviting the judges to dinner, only to receive
the somewhat chilling answer, 'Some of their lordships will attend.' On
this occasion the ceremony was over, and the Lord Mayor and his retinue
was retiring from the Court, when his lordship's eye rested on Lockwood,
who in a new wig was one of the throng by the door. 'Ah, my young
friend!' said the Lord Mayor in a pompous way (for in those days there
was no London County Council to teach Lord Mayors humility); 'picking up
a little law, I suppose?' Lockwood had his answer ready. With a profound
bow, he replied: 'I shall be delighted to accept your lordship's
hospitality. I think I heard your lordship name seven as the hour.' The
Lord Mayor hurried out of Court, and even the policeman (and to the
police Lord Mayors are almost divine) shook with laughter."
Counsel sometimes find their position so weak that their only hope of
damaging the other side lies in ridiculing their witnesses. Serjeant
Parry on one occasion was defending a client against a claim for breach
of promise of marriage made a few hours after a chance meeting in Regent
Street. According to the lady's story the introduction had been effected
through the gentleman offering to protect her from a dog. In course of
cross-examination Parry said: "You say you were alarmed at two dogs
fighting, madam?"--"No, no, it was a single dog," was the reply. "What
you mean, madam," retorted Parry, "is that there was only one dog; but
whether it was a single dog or a married dog you are not in a position
to say." With this correction it need not be wondered that the lady had
little more to say.
A learned counsellor in the midst of an affecting appeal in Court on a
slander case delivered himself of the following flight of genius.
"Slander, gentlemen, like a boa constrictor of gigantic size and
immeasurable proportions, wraps the coil of its unwieldy body about its
unfortunate victim, and, heedless of the shrieks of agony that come from
the utmost depths of its victim's soul, loud and reverberating as the
night thunder that rolls in the heavens, it finally breaks its unlucky
neck upon the iron wheel of public opinion; forcing him first to
desperation, then to madness, and finally crushing him in the hideous
jaws of mortal death."