Part 15 (1/2)
CHAPTER SIX
THE ADVOCATES OF SCOTLAND
”Ye lawyers who live upon litigants' fees, And who need a good many to live at your ease, Grave or gay, wise or witty, whate'er your degree, Plain stuff, or Queen's Counsel, take counsel from me, When a festive occasion your spirit unbends, You should never forget the profession's best friends; So we'll send round the wine and a bright b.u.mper fill To the jolly Testator who makes his own will.”
NEAVES: _Songs and Verses_.
CHAPTER SIX
THE ADVOCATES OF SCOTLAND
Since days when Sir Walter Scott gathered round him at the fireplace in the Parliament Hall of Edinburgh a company of young brother advocates to hear the latest of Lord Eskgrove's eccentric sayings from the Bench, that rendezvous has been the favourite resort for story-telling among succeeding generations of counsel. While the Court is in session, they vary their daily walk up and down the hall by lounging round the spot where the future Wizard of the North proved a strong counter-attraction to many an interesting case being argued before a Lord Ordinary in the alcoves on the opposite side of the hall, which was then the ”Outer House.” It is even a.s.serted that this same fireplace is the hatchery of many of the amusing paragraphs daily appearing in a column of a certain Edinburgh newspaper. But of all the witticisms that have enlivened the dull hours of the briefless barrister in that historic hall during the past century, none will stand the test of time or be read with so much pleasure as those of that prince of wits, the Hon. Henry Erskine.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HON. HENRY ERSKINE, LORD ADVOCATE AND DEAN OF FACULTY OF ADVOCATES.]
Hairry, as he was familiarly called both by judge and counsel, was in an eminent degree the ”advocate of the people.” It is said that a poor man in a remote district of Scotland thus answered an acquaintance who wished to dissuade him from ”going to law” with a wealthy neighbour, by representing the hopelessness of being able to meet the expenses of litigation. ”Ye dinna ken what ye're saying, maister,” replied the litigious northerner; ”there's no' a puir man in a' Scotland need want a freen' or fear a foe, sae lang as Hairry Erskine lives.”
When the autocratic reign of Henry Dundas as Lord Advocate was for a time eclipsed, Henry Erskine was his successor in the Whig interest. In his good-humoured way Dundas proposed to lend Erskine his embroidered gown, suggesting that it would not be long before he (Dundas) would again be in office. ”Thank you,” said Hairry, ”I am well aware it is made to suit any party, but it will never be said of me that I a.s.sumed the abandoned habits of my predecessor.”
Having been speaking in the Outer House at the Bar of Lord Swinton, a very good, but a very slow and deaf judge, Erskine was called away to Lord Braxfield's Court. On appearing his lords.h.i.+p said: ”Well, Dean” (he was then Dean of the Faculty of Advocates), ”what is this you've been talking so loudly about to my Lord Swinton?”--”About a cask of whisky, my lord, but I found it no easy matter to make it run in his lords.h.i.+p's head.”
He was once defending a client, a lady of the name of Tickell, before one of the judges who was an intimate friend, and he opened his address to his lords.h.i.+p in these terms: ”Tickell, my client, my lord.”
But the judge was equal to the occasion and interrupted him by saying: ”Tickle her yourself, Harry, you're as able to do it as I am.”
Lord Balmuto was a ponderous judge and not very ”gleg in the uptak” (did not readily see a point), and retained the utmost gravity while the whole Court was convulsed with laughter at some joke of the witty Dean.
Hours later, when another case was being heard, the judge would suddenly exclaim: ”Eh, Maister Hairry, a' hae ye noo, a' hae ye noo, vera guid, vera guid.”
Hugo Arnot, a brother advocate, a tall, cadaverous-looking man, who suffered from asthma, was one day munching a speldin (a sun-dried whiting or small haddock, a favourite article supplied at that time, and till a generation ago, by certain Edinburgh shops). Erskine coming up to Arnot, the latter explained that he was having his lunch. ”So I see,”
said Harry, ”and you're very like your meat.” On another occasion these two worthies were discussing future punishment for errors of the flesh, Arnot taking a liberal, and Erskine a strongly Calvinist view. As they were parting Erskine said to Arnot, referring to his spare figure:
”For ---- and blasphemy by the mercy of heaven To flesh and to blood much may be forgiven, But I've searched all the Scriptures and text I find none That the same is extended to skin and to bone.”
Erskine's brother, the extremely eccentric Lord Buchan, who thought himself as great a jester as his two younger brothers, the Lord Chancellor of England and the Dean of Faculty of Advocates, one day putting his head below the lock of a door, exclaimed: ”See, Harry, here's Locke on the Human Understanding.”--”Rather a poor edition, my lord,” replied the younger brother.
Sir James Colquhoun, Baronet of Luss, Princ.i.p.al Clerk of Session, towards the close of the eighteenth century was one of the odd characters of his time, and was made the b.u.t.t of all the wags of the Parliament House. On one occasion, whilst Henry Erskine was in the Court in which Sir James was on duty, he amused himself by making faces at the Princ.i.p.al Clerk, who was greatly annoyed at the strange conduct of the tormenting lawyer. Unable to bear it longer, he disturbed the gravity of the Court by rising from the table at which he sat and exclaiming, ”My lord, my lord, I wish you would speak to Harry, he's aye making faces at me.” Harry, however, looked as grave as a judge and the work of the Court proceeded, until Sir James, looking again towards the bar, witnessed a new grimace from his tormentor, and convulsed Bench, Bar, and audience by roaring out: ”There, there, my lord, see he's at it again.”
Hugo Arnot's eccentricity took various forms. In his house in South St.
Andrew Street, in the new town of Edinburgh, he greatly annoyed a lady who lived in the same tenement by the violence with which he kept ringing his bell for his servant. The lady complained; but what was her horror next day to hear several pistol-shots fired in the house, which was Arnot's new method of demanding his valet's immediate attendance.
In his professional capacity, however, he was guided by a high sense of honour and of moral obligation. In a case submitted for his consideration, which seemed to him to possess neither of these qualifications, he with a very grave face said to his client: ”Pray what do you suppose me to be?”--”Why, sir,” answered the client, ”I understood you to be a lawyer.”--”I thought, sir,” replied Arnot, ”you took me for a scoundrel.” On another occasion he was consulted by a lady, not remarkable either for youth or beauty or for good temper, as to the best method of getting rid of the importunities of a rejected admirer. After having told her story and claiming a relations.h.i.+p with him because her own name was Arnot, she wound up with: ”Ye maun advise me what I ought to do with this impertinent fellow.”--”Oh, marry him by all means, it's the only way to get quit of his importunities,” was Arnot's advice. ”I would see him hanged first,” retorted the lady.
”Nay, madam,” rejoined Arnot, ”marry him directly as I said before, and by the Lord Harry he'll soon hang himself.”