Part 8 (2/2)

Judge Foster was trying five prisoners for murder, and misunderstood the drift of the evidence. Four of the prisoners seem to have a.s.sisted, but a witness said as to the fifth, Denis Halligan, that it was he who gave the fatal blow: ”My lord, I saw Denis Halligan (that's in the dock there) take a vacancy (Irish word for 'aim' at an unguarded part) at the poor soul that's kilt, and give him a wipe with a _clehalpin_ (Irish word for 'bludgeon'), and lay him down as quiet as a child.” They were found guilty. The judge, sentencing the first four, gave them seven years' imprisonment. But when he came to Halligan, who really killed the deceased, the judge said, ”Denis Halligan, I have purposely reserved the consideration of your case to the last. Your crime is doubtless of a grievous nature, yet I cannot avoid taking into consideration the mitigating circ.u.mstances that attend it. By the evidence of the witness it clearly appears that _you_ were the only one of the party who showed any mercy to the unfortunate deceased. You took him to a vacant seat, and wiped him with a clean napkin, and you laid him down with the gentleness one shows to a little child. In consideration of these extenuating circ.u.mstances, which reflect some credit upon you, I shall inflict upon you three weeks' imprisonment.” So Denis Halligan got off by the judge mistaking a vacancy for a vacant seat, and a _clehalpin_ for a clean napkin.

John Toler (Lord Norbury) was Chief Justice of the Common Pleas in 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 ill.u.s.tration 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.

Pa.s.sing 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 lords.h.i.+p 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 n.o.bility 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 lords.h.i.+p decided to let it go to a jury trial. ”I do believe,” said the disappointed advocate, ”your lords.h.i.+p 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 a.s.sailant.

”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 lords.h.i.+p 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 lords.h.i.+p'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 lords.h.i.+p's wit, and must have been rather distressed by it. He was pa.s.sing 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 a.s.size, 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 lords.h.i.+p. 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 lords.h.i.+p'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 a.s.sault. 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 lords.h.i.+p on the form of the indictment, if your lords.h.i.+p 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 lords.h.i.+p 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.

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