Ireland. His humour was broad, and his absolute indifference to
propriety often saved the situation by converting a serious matter into
a wholly ludicrous one. His Court was in constant uproar, owing to his
noisy jesting, and like a noted old Scottish judge he would have his
joke when the life of a human being was hanging in the balance. Even on
his own deathbed he could not resist the impulse. On hearing that his
friend Lord Erne was also nearing his end at the same time, he called
for his valet: "James," said Lord Norbury, "run round to Lord Erne and
tell him with my compliments that it will be a _dead_-heat between us."
The best illustration of the almost daily condition of things when Lord
Norbury presided at Nisi Prius is given by himself in his reply to the
answer of a witness. "What is your business?" asked the judge. "I keep a
_racquet-court_, my lord."--"So do I, so do I," immediately exclaimed
the judge. Nor did he reserve his _bon mots_ for Court merriment.
Passing the Quay on his way to the Four Courts one morning, he noticed a
crowd and inquired of a bystander the cause of it. On being told that a
tailor had just been rescued from attempted suicide by drowning, his
lordship exclaimed, "What a fool to leave his _hot goose_ for a _cold
duck_." The boastful statement of a gentleman in his company that he had
shot seventy hares before breakfast drew from the Chief Justice the
sarcastic remark, "I suppose, sir, you fired at a wig."
A son of a peer having been accused of arson, of which offence he was
generally believed guilty, but acquitted on a point of insufficiency of
evidence to sustain the indictment, was tried before Lord Norbury. The
young gentleman met the judge next at the Lord-Lieutenant's levee in the
Castle. Instead of avoiding the Chief Justice, the scion of nobility
boldly said, "I have recently married, and have come here to enable me
to present my bride at the Drawing-Room."--"Quite right to mind the
Scripture. Better marry than burn," retorted Lord Norbury.
A barrister once pressed him to non-suit the plaintiff in a case; but
his lordship decided to let it go to a jury trial. "I do believe," said
the disappointed advocate, "your lordship has not the _courage to
non-suit_."--"You say, sir," replied the irate judge, "you don't believe
I'd have the courage to non-suit. I tell you I have courage to _shoot_
and to _non-shoot_, but I'll not non-suit for you." This same counsel
was once horsewhipped by an army officer at Nelson's Pillar in Sackville
Street, and applied for a Criminal Information against his assailant.
"Certainly he shall have it," said the witty judge. "The Court is bound
to give protection to any one who has _bled under the gallant Nelson_."
On a motion before this judge, a sheriff's officer, who had the
hardihood to serve a process in Connemara, where the king's writ _did
not run_, swore that the natives made him eat and swallow both copy and
original. Norbury, affecting great disgust, exclaimed: "Jackson,
Jackson, I hope it's not made returnable into this Court."
While giving a judgment on a writ of right, Lord Norbury observed that
it was not sufficient for a demandant to say he "claimed by descent."
"Such an answer," he continued, "would be a shrewd one for a sweep, who
got into your house by coming down the chimney; and it would be an easy,
as well as a sweeping, way of getting in."
His lordship was attacked by a fit of gout when on Circuit, and sent to
the Solicitor-General requesting the loan of a pair of large slippers.
"Take them," said the Solicitor to the servant, "with my respects, and I
hope soon to be in his lordship's shoes."
At the instigation of O'Connell, Lord Norbury was finally removed from
the Bench. A flagrant case of partiality was brought to Lord Brougham's
notice which exasperated Lord Norbury, and he is reported to have said,
"I'll resign to demand satisfaction. That Scottish Broom wants to be
made acquainted with an Irish stick."
* * * * *
Two notorious highwaymen were charged before Chief Baron O'Grady with
robbery, and to the surprise of all the jury returned a verdict of not
guilty. "Mr. Murphy," said the judge to the gaoler, "you will greatly
ease my mind by keeping these two respectable gentlemen in custody until
seven o'clock. I leave for Dublin at five, and I should like to have at
least two hours' start of them." There is also the story of a barrister
who made an eloquent speech and got his client off, but he was very
anxious to know whether the prisoner was guilty or not. "Well, sir,"
said the man when applied to, "to tell the truth I thought I was guilty
until I heard you speak, and then I didn't see how I could be." This at
once recalls an old story. "Prisoner, I understand you confess your
guilt," said the judge. "No, I don't," said the prisoner. "My counsel
has convinced me of my innocence."
On hearing that some spendthrift barristers, friends of his, were
appointed to be Commissioners of Insolvent Debtors the Chief Baron
remarked, "At all events, the insolvents can't complain of not being
tried by their peers." It was the same judge who caustically observed,
after a long and dull legal argument: "I agree with my brother J----,
for the reasons given by my brother M----." A prisoner once was given a
practical specimen of his lordship's wit, and must have been rather
distressed by it. He was passing sentence upon a pickpocket, and
ordering a punishment common at that time. "You will be whipped from
North Gate to South Gate," said the judge. "Bad luck to you, you old
blackguard," said the prisoner. "--And back again," said the Chief
Baron, as if he had been interrupted in the delivery of the sentence.
A cause of much celebrity was tried at a county Assize, at which Chief
Baron O'Grady presided. Bushe, then a K.C., who held a brief for the
defence, was pleading the cause of his client with much eloquence, when
a donkey in the courtyard outside set up a loud bray. "One at a time,
brother Bushe!" called out his lordship. Peals of laughter filled the
Court. The counsel bore the interruption as best he could. The judge was
proceeding to sum up with his usual ability: the donkey again began to
bray. "I beg your lordship's pardon," said Bushe, putting his hand to
his ear; "but there is such an echo in the Court that I can't hear a
word you say."
In his charges to juries, O'Grady frequently made some quaint remarks.
There was a Kerry case in which a number of men were indicted for riot
and assault. Several of them bore the familiar names of O'Donoghue,
Moriarty, Duggan, &c., while among the jurymen these names were also
found. Well knowing that consanguinity was prevalent in the district,
the judge began his address to the jury with the significant remark: "Of
course, gentlemen, you will acquit your own relatives." In another case
of larceny of pantaloons which was clearly proved, but in which the
thief got a good character for honesty, he began: "Gentlemen, the
prisoner was an honest boy, but he stole the pantaloons."
"I merely wish to address your lordship on the form of the indictment,
if your lordship pleases," said a young barrister to the Chief Baron.
"Oh, certainly, I will hear you with mighty great pleasure, sir; but
I'll be after taking the verdict of the jury first," was the sarcastic
reply.
The brother of Chief Baron O'Grady once caught a boy stealing turnips
from one of his fields and asked his lordship if the culprit could be
prosecuted under the Timber Acts. "No," said the Chief Baron, "unless
you can prove that your turnips are sticky."
* * * * *
Yelverton, first Baron Avonmore, possessed remarkable rhetorical
ability and a highly cultivated mind. He rose rapidly at the Bar, until
he became Chief Baron of Exchequer. He was the founder of the convivial
order of St. Patrick, called "The Monks of the Screw," of which Curran,
who wrote its charter song, was Prior. Avonmore was a man of warm and
benevolent feelings, which he gave vent to in an equal degree in private
life, in the senate, and on the Bench.
Before giving an anecdote of Lord Avonmore it may interest readers,
especially English and Scottish, to quote here the charter song of this
famous Irish convivial club of the eighteenth century.
THE CHARTER SONG OF THE
MONKS OF THE SCREW
When St. Patrick this order establish'd,
He called us the "Monks of the Screw"!
Good rules he reveal'd to our Abbot,
To guide us in what we should do.
But first he replenish'd our fountain,
With liquor the best in the sky;
And he swore on the word of a saint
That the fountain should never run dry.
Each year when your octaves approach,
In full chapter convened let me find you,
And when to the convent you come
Leave your favourite temptation behind you;
And be not a glass in your convent,
Unless on a festival found;
And this rule to enforce I ordain it,
Our festival all the year round.
My brethren, be chaste till you're tempted;
While sober be grave and discreet;
And humble your bodies with fasting,
As oft as you've nothing to eat.
Yet, in honour of fasting, one lean face
Among you I'll always require,
If the Abbot should please he may wear it--
If not, let it come to the Prior.
The last two lines hit off the appearance of the Abbot, a Mr. Doyle, and
of the Prior, J. P. Curran. The former was a big burly man with a fat,
jovial face, while Curran was a short and particularly spare man whose
"lean face" always attracted attention.
On a Lent Circuit, one of the Assize towns happened to be a place, of
which one of Lord Avonmore's college contemporaries held a living: at
his own request, the Chief Baron's reverend friend preached the Assize
sermon. The time being the month of March the weather was cold, the
judge was chilled, and unhappily the sermon was long, and the preacher
tedious. After the discourse was over, the preacher descended from the
pulpit and approached the judge, smirking and smiling, looking fully
satisfied with his own exertions, and expecting to receive the
compliments and congratulations of his quondam chum. "Well, my lord,"
he asked, "and how did you like the sermon?"--"Oh! most wonderfully,"
replied Avonmore. "It was like the peace of God--it passed all
understanding; and--like his mercy--I thought it would have endured for
ever."
* * * * *
When Plunket was at the Bar his great friend and rival was C. K. Bushe.
The former was Attorney-General at the same time as the latter was
Solicitor-General, and it caused him much dissatisfaction when Plunket
learned that on a change of Government Solicitor-General Bushe had not
followed his example and resigned office. At the time this occurred both
barristers happened to be engaged in a case at which, when it was
called, Bushe only appeared. On the judge inquiring of Mr. Bushe if he
knew the reason of Mr. Plunket's absence his friend jocosely remarked,
"I suppose, my lord, he is Cabinet-making." This pleasantry, at his
expense, was told to Plunket by a friend, when he arrived in Court, on
which, turning to the judge, the ex-Attorney-General proudly said, "I
assure your lordship I am not so well qualified for Cabinet-making as my
learned friend. I never was either a _turner_ or a _joiner_."
Two eminent Irish astronomers differed in an argument on the parallax of
a lyræ--the one maintaining that it was three seconds, and the other
that it was only two seconds. On being told of this discussion, and
that the astronomers parted without arriving at an agreement, Plunket
quietly remarked: "It must be a very serious quarrel indeed, when even
the seconds cannot agree."
Once applying the common expression to accommodation bills of exchange,
that they were _mere kites_, the judge, an English Chancellor, said "he
never heard that expression applied before to any but the kites of
boys."--"Oh," replied Plunket, "that's the difference between kites in
England and in Ireland. In England the wind raises the kite, but in
Ireland the kite raises the wind."
Everybody (says Phillips) knew how acutely Plunket felt his forced
resignation of the chancellorship, and his being superseded by Lord
Campbell. A violent storm arose on the day of Campbell's expected
arrival, and a friend remarking to Plunket how sick of his promotion the
passage must have made the new Chancellor: "Yes," said the former,
ruefully, "but it won't make him throw up the seals."
* * * * *
Mr. Frankfort Moore, in his _Journalist's Notebook_, relates how Justice
Lawson summed up in the case of a man who was charged with stealing a
pig. The evidence of the theft was quite conclusive, and, in fact, was
not combated; but the prisoner called the priests and neighbours to
attest to his good character. "Gentlemen of the jury," said the judge,
"I think that the only conclusion you can arrive at is, that the pig was
stolen by the prisoner, and that he is the most amiable man in the
country."
CHAPTER FOUR
THE BARRISTERS OF IRELAND
"'Men that hire out their words and anger'; that are more or
less passionate according as they are paid for it, and allow
their client a quantity of wrath proportionable to the fee
which they receive from him."
ADDISON: _The Spectator_.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE BARRISTERS OF IRELAND
The Irish counsel like the occupants of the Bench were, in early times,
eminent for their jolly carousing. Once, about 1687, a heavy argument
coming on before Lord Chancellor Fitton, Mr. Nagle, the solicitor,
retained Sir Toby Butler as counsel, who entered into a bargain that he
would not drink a drop of wine while the case was at hearing. This
bargain reached the ears of the Chancellor, who asked Sir Toby if it was
true that such a compact had been made. The counsel said it was true,
and the bargain had been rigidly kept; but on further inquiry he
admitted that as he had only promised not to _drink_ a _drop_ of wine,
he felt he must have some stimulant. So he got a basin, into which he
poured two bottles of claret, and then got two hot rolls of bread,
sopped them in the claret and ate them. "I see," replied the Chancellor;
"in truth, Sir Toby, you deserve to be master of the rolls!"
* * * * *
[Illustration: JOHN P. CURRAN, MASTER OF ROLLS.]
One naturally turns to Curran for a selection of the witty sayings of
the Irish Bar, and abundantly he supplies them, although in these days
many of his jests may be considered as in somewhat doubtful taste.
Phillips tells us he remembered Curran once--in an action for breach of
promise of marriage, in which he was counsel for the defendant, a young
clergyman--thus appealing to the jury: "Gentlemen, I entreat you not to
ruin this young man by a vindictive verdict; for _though_ he has
talents, and is in the Church, _he may rise_!"
After his college career Curran went to London to study for the
Bar. His circumstances were often straitened, and at times so much
so that he had to pass the day without dinner. But under such
depressing circumstances his high spirits never forsook him. One
day he was sitting in St. James's Park merrily whistling a tune
when a gentleman passed, who, struck by the youth's melancholy
appearance while, at the same time, he whistled a lively air, asked
how he "came to be sitting there whistling while other people were
at dinner." Curran replied, "I would have been at dinner too, but a
trifling circumstance--delay in remittances--obliges me to dine on
an Irish tune." The result was that Curran was invited to dine with
the stranger, and years afterwards, when he had become famous, he
recalled the incident to his entertainer--Macklin, the celebrated
actor--with the assurance, "You never acted better in your life."
From Phillips again we have Curran's retort upon an Irish judge, who was
quite as remarkable for his good humour and raillery as for his legal
researches. Curran was addressing a jury on one of the State trials in
1803 with his usual animation. The judge, whose political bias, if any
judge can have one, was certainly supposed not to be favourable to the
prisoner, shook his head in doubt or denial of one of the advocate's
arguments. "I see, gentlemen," said Curran, "I see the motion of his
lordship's head; common observers might imagine that implied a
difference of opinion, but they would be mistaken; it is merely
accidental. Believe me, gentlemen, if you remain here many days, you
will yourselves perceive that when his lordship shakes his head, there's
_nothing in it_!"
Curran was one day engaged in a case in which he had for a junior a
remarkably tall and slender gentleman, who had been originally intended
to take orders. The judge observing that the case under discussion
involved a question of ecclesiastical law, Curran interposed with: "I
refer your lordship to a high authority behind me, who was once intended
for the Church, though in my opinion he was fitter for the steeple."
He was one day walking with a friend, who, hearing a person say
"curosity" for "curiosity," exclaimed: "How that man murders the English
language!"--"Not so bad as that," replied Curran. "He has only knocked
an 'i' out."
Curran never joined the hunt, except once, not far from Dublin. His
horse joined very keenly in the sport, but the horseman was inwardly
hoping all the while that the dogs would not find. In the midst of his
career, the hounds broke into a potato field of a wealthy land-agent,
who happened to have been severely cross-examined by Curran some days
before. The fellow came up patronisingly and said, "Oh sure, you are
Counsellor Curran, the great lawyer. Now then, Mr. Lawyer, can you tell
me by what law you are trespassing on my ground?"--"By what law, did you
ask, Mr. Maloney?" replied Curran. "It must be the _Lex Tally-ho-nis_,
to be sure."
During one of the Circuits, Curran was dining with a brother advocate at
a small inn kept by a worthy woman known by the Christian name of
Honoria, or, as it is generally called, Honor. The gentlemen were so
pleased with their entertainment that they summoned Honor to receive
their compliments and drink a glass of wine with them. She attended at
once, and Curran after a brief eulogium on the dinner filled a glass,
and handing it to the landlady proposed as a toast "Honor and Honesty,"
to which the lady with an arch smile added, "Our absent friends," drank
off her amended toast and withdrew.
He happened one day to have for his companion in a stage-coach a very
vulgar and revolting old woman, who seemed to have been encrusted with a
prejudice against Ireland and all its inhabitants. Curran sat chafing in
silence in his corner. At last, suddenly, a number of cows, with their
tails and heads in the air, kept rushing up and down the road in
alarming proximity to the coach windows. The old woman manifestly was
but ill at ease. At last, unable to restrain her terror, she faltered
out, "Oh dear; oh dear, sir! what can the cows mean?"--"Faith, my good
woman," replied Curran, "as there's an Irishman in the coach, I
shouldn't wonder if they were on the outlook for _a bull_!"
Curran was once asked what an Irish gentleman, just arrived in England,
could mean by perpetually putting out his tongue. "I suppose," replied
the wit, "he's trying _to catch the English accent_."
During the temporary separation of Lord Avonmore and Curran, Egan
espoused the judge's imaginary quarrel so bitterly that a duel was the
consequence. The parties met, and on the ground Egan complained that the
disparity in their sizes gave his antagonist a manifest advantage. "I
might as well fire at a razor's edge as at him," said Egan, "and he may
hit me as easily as a turf-stack."--"I'll tell you what, Mr. Egan,"
replied Curran; "I wish to take no advantage of you--let my _size_ be
_chalked_ out upon your side, and I am quite content that every shot
which hits outside that mark should _go for nothing_." And in another
duel, in which his opponent was a major who had taken offence at some
remark the eminent counsel had made about him in Court, the major asked
Curran to fire first. "No," replied Curran, "I am here on your
invitation, so you must _open the ball_."
Sir Thomas Furton, who was a respectable speaker, but certainly nothing
more, affected once to discuss the subject of eloquence with Curran,
assuming an equality by no means palatable to the latter. Curran
happening to mention, as a peculiarity of his, that he could not speak
above a quarter of an hour without requiring something to moisten his
lips, Sir Thomas, pursuing his comparisons, declared _he_ had the
advantage in that respect. "I spoke," said he, "the other night in the
Commons for five hours on the Nabob of Oude, and never felt in the least
thirsty."--"It is very remarkable, indeed," replied Curran, "for
everyone agrees that was the _driest_ speech of the session."
Lord Clare (says Mr. Hayward) had a favourite dog which was permitted to
follow him to the Bench. One day, during an argument of Curran's, the
Chancellor turned aside and began to fondle the dog, with the obvious
view of intimating inattention or disregard. The counsel stopped; the
judge looked up: "I beg your pardon," continued Curran, "I thought your
lordship had been in consultation."
Curran often raised a laugh at Lord Norbury's expense. The laws, at that
period, made capital punishment so general that nearly all crimes were
punishable with death by the rope. It was remarked Lord Norbury never
hesitated to condemn the convicted prisoner to the gallows. Dining in
company with Curran, who was carving some corned beef, Lord Norbury
inquired, "Is that hung beef, Mr. Curran?"--"Not yet, my lord," was the
reply; "you have not _tried_ it."
"A doldrum, Mr. Curran! What does the witness mean by saying you put him
in a doldrum?" asked Lord Avonmore. "Oh, my lord, it is a very common
complaint with persons of this description; it's merely a confusion of
the head arising from a corruption of the heart."
Angered one day in debate, he put his hand on his heart, saying, "I am
the trusty guardian of my own honour."--"Then," replied Sir Boyle Roche,
"I congratulate my honourable friend in the snug little sinecure to
which he has appointed himself."
But on one occasion he met his match in a pert, jolly, keen-eyed son of
Erin, who was up as a witness in a case of dispute in the matter of a
horse deal. Curran was anxious to break down the credibility of this
witness, and thought to do it by making the man contradict himself--by
tangling him up in a network of adroitly framed questions--but to no
avail. The ostler's good common sense, and his equanimity and good
nature, were not to be upset. Presently, Curran, in a towering rage,
thundered forth, as no other counsel would have dared to do in the
presence of the Court: "Sir, you are incorrigible! The truth is not to
be got from you, for it is not in you. I see the villain in your
face!"--"Faith, yer honour," replied the witness, with the utmost
simplicity of truth and honesty, "my face must be moighty clane and
shinin' indade, if it can reflect like that." For once in his life the
great barrister was floored by a simple witness. He could not recover
from that repartee, and the case went against him.
When Curran heard that there was a likelihood of trouble for the part he
took in 1798, and that in all probability he would be deprived of the
rank of Q.C., he remarked: "They may take away the _silk_, but they
leave the _stuff_ behind."
* * * * *
"Bully" Egan had a great muscular figure, as may be guessed from the
story of the duel with Curran. To his bulk he added a stentorian voice,
which he freely used in Nisi Prius practice to browbeat opposing counsel
and witnesses, and through which he acquired his _sobriquet_. On one
occasion his opponent was a dark-visaged barrister who had made out a
good case for his client. Egan, in the course of an eloquent address,
begged the jury not to be carried away by the "dark oblivion of a
brow."--"What do you mean by using such balderdash?" said a friend. "It
may be balderdash," replied Egan, "but depend upon it, it will do very
well for that jury." On another occasion he concluded a vituperative
address by describing the defendant as "a most naufrageous
ruffian."--"What sort of a ruffian is that?" whispered his junior. "I
have no idea," responded Egan, "but I think _it sounds well_."
* * * * *
H. D. Grady was a strong supporter, in the Irish Parliament, of the
Union of Great Britain and Ireland, although he represented a
constituency strongly opposed to it; and he did not conceal the fact
that the Government had made it worth his while to support them. "What!"
exclaimed one of his constituents who remonstrated with him; "do you
mean to sell your country?"--"Thank God," cried this patriot, "I have a
country to sell."