Law and Laughter Part 5

Judge: "Is this your signature?"

Witness: "I don't know."

Judge: "Look at it carefully."

Witness: "I can't say for certain."

Judge: "Is it anything like your writing?"

Witness: "I don't think it is."

Judge: "Can't you identify it?"

Witness: "Not quite."

Judge: "Well, let me see, just write your name here and I will examine the two signatures."

Witness: "I can't write, sir."

Medical men are not as a rule the best witnesses, being too fond of using technical words peculiar to them in their own profession. In an action for a.s.sault tried by a Derbyshire common jury before Mr. Justice Patteson, a surgical witness was asked to describe the injuries the plaintiff had received; he stated he had "ecchymosis" of the left eye.

Upon the judge inquiring whether that did not mean what was commonly understood by a black eye, the witness answered: "Yes."--"Then why did you not say so, sir? What do the jury know of 'ecchymosis'? They might think, as the farmer did of the word 'felicity,' used by a clergyman in his sermon, that it meant something in the inside of a pig."

A notorious thief, being tried for his life, confessed the robbery he was charged with. The judge thereupon directed the jury to find him guilty upon his own confession. The jury having consulted together brought him in "Not guilty." The judge bade them consider their verdict again, but still they brought in a verdict of "Not guilty." The judge asking the reason, the foreman replied: "There is reason enough, for we all know him to be one of the greatest liars in the country."

"Have you committed all these crimes?" asked the judge of a h.o.a.ry old sinner. "Yes, my lord, and worse." "Worse, I should have thought it impossible. What have you done then?"--"My lord, I allowed myself to be caught."

"I knows yer," said a prisoner to the present Lord Chief Justice, "and many's the time I've given yer a hand when ye've been stepping it round the track like a greyhound. So let's down lightly, like a good cove as yer are."

The retort of a witness to Lord Avory was too good to be soon forgotten, and is still circulating among the juniors of the law-courts. "Let me see," said his lordship, "you have been convicted before, haven't you?"--"Yes, sir," answered the man; "but it was due to the incapacity of my counsel rather than to any fault on my part."--"It always is,"

said Lord Avory, with a grim smile, "and you have my sincere sympathy."--"And I deserve it," retorted the man, "seeing that you were my counsel on that occasion!"

CHAPTER TWO

THE BARRISTERS OF ENGLAND

"Hark the hour of ten is sounding!

Hearts with anxious fears are bounding; Hall of Justice crowds surrounding, Breathing hope and fear.

For to-day in this arena Summoned by a stern subpna, Edwin sued by Angelina Shortly will appear."

Sir W. S. GILBERT: _Trial by Jury_.

"As your Solicitor, I should have no hesitation in saying: Chance it----"

Sir W. S. GILBERT: _The Mikado_.

CHAPTER TWO

THE BARRISTERS OF ENGLAND

From the middle of the thirteenth century the senior rank to which a barrister could attain at the Bar was that of serjeant-at-law, and from that body, which existed until 1875, the judges were selected. If a barrister below the rank of serjeant was invited to take a seat on the Bench he invariably conformed to the recognised custom and "took the coif"--became a serjeant-at-law--before he was sworn as one of his (or her) Majesty's judges. This explains the term "brother" applied by judges when addressing serjeants pleading before them in Court. "Taking the coif" had a curious origin. It was customary in very early times for the clergy to add to their clerical duties that of a legal pract.i.tioner, by which considerable fees were obtained, and when the Canon law forbade them engaging in all secular occupations the remuneration they had obtained from the law-courts proved too strong a temptation to evade the new law. They continued therefore to practise in the Courts, and to hide their clerical ident.i.ty they concealed the tonsure by covering the upper part of their heads with a black cap or coif. When ultimately clerical barristers were driven from the law-courts, the "coif" or black patch on the crown of a barrister's wig became the symbol of the rank of serjeant-at-law. That this distinguishing mark has been, in later years, occasionally misunderstood is ill.u.s.trated in the story of Serjeant Allen and Sir Henry Keating, Q.C., who were opposed to one another in a case before the a.s.size Court at Stafford. During the hearing of the case a violent altercation had taken place between them, but when the Court rose they left the building together, walking amicably to their lodgings. Two men who had been in Court and had heard their wrangle were following behind them, when one said to the other: "If you was in trouble, Bill, which o' them two tip-top 'uns would you have to defend you?"--"Well, Jim," was the reply, "I should pitch upon this 'un,"

pointing to the Q.C. "Then you'd be a fool," said his companion; "the fellow with the _sore head_ is worth six of t'other 'un."

There used to be a student joke against the serjeants. "Why is a serjeant's speech like a tailor's goose?"--"Because it is hot and heavy."

"Taking silk," or becoming a K.C. and a senior at the Bar, originated at a much later date than that of serjeant-at-law. Lord Bacon was the first to be recognised as Queen's Counsel, but this distinction arose from his position as legal adviser to Queen Elizabeth, and did not indicate the existence of a senior body (as K.C. does now) among the barristers of that period. The inst.i.tution of the rank dates from the days of Charles II, when Sir Francis North, Lord Guildford, was created King's Counsel by a writ issued under the Great Seal. As was customary in the case of a barrister proposing to "take the coif," so in that of one proposing to "take silk"; he intimates to the seniors already holding the rank that he intends to apply for admission to the body. A story is current in the Temple that when Mr. Justice Eve "took silk" the usual notification of his intention was sent to the seniors, and from one of them he received the following reply: "My dear Eve, whether you wear silk or a fig-leaf, I do not care.--A Dam."

Our selection of facetiae of the English Bar, therefore, naturally opens with stories of the serjeants-at-law, and one of the best-known members of that body in early days was Serjeant Hill, a celebrated lawyer, who was also somewhat remarkable for absence of mind, which was attributed to the earnestness with which he devoted himself to his professional duties.

On the very day when he was married, he had an intricate case on hand, and forgot his engagement, until reminded of his waiting bride, and that the legal time for performing the ceremony had nearly elapsed. He then quitted law for the church; after the ceremony, the serjeant returned to his books and his papers, having forgotten the _cause_ he had been engaged in during the morning, until again reminded by his clerk that the a.s.sembled company impatiently awaited his presence at dinner.

Being once on Circuit, and having occasion to refer to a law authority, he had recourse, as usual, to his bag; but, to the astonishment of the Court, instead of a volume of Viner's abridgment, he took out a specimen candlestick, the property of a Birmingham traveller, whose bag Serjeant Hill had brought into Court by mistake.

A learned serjeant kept the Court waiting one morning for a few minutes.

The business of the Court commenced at nine. "Brother," said the judge, "you are behind your time this morning. The Court has been waiting for you."--"I beg your lordship's pardon," replied the serjeant; "I am afraid I was longer than usual in dressing."--"Oh," returned the judge, "I can dress in five minutes at any time."--"Indeed!" said the learned brother, a little surprised for the moment; "but in that my dog Shock beats your lordship hollow, for he has nothing to do but to shake his coat, and thinks himself fit for any company."

Serjeant Davy, when at the height of his professional career, once received a large brief on which a fee of two guineas only was marked on the back. His client asked him if he had read the brief. Pointing with his finger to the fee, Davy replied: "As far as that I have read, and for the life of me I can read no further." Of the same eminent serjeant in his earlier years an Old Baily story is told. Judge Gould, who presided, asked: "Who is concerned for the prisoner?"--"I am concerned for him, my lord," said Davy, "and very much concerned after what I have just heard."

If Serjeant Davy was concerned about his client, Serjeant Miller had no such scruple about the man charged with horse stealing whom he successfully defended, although the evidence convinced the judge and everybody in the Court that there ought to have been a conviction. When the trial was over and the prisoner had been acquitted, the judge said to him: "Prisoner, luckily for you, you have been found Not Guilty by the jury, but you know perfectly well you stole that horse. You may as well tell the truth, as no harm can happen to you now by a confession, for you cannot be tried again. Now tell me, did you not steal that horse?" "Well, my lord," replied the man, "I always thought I did, until I heard my counsel's speech, but now I begin to think I didn't."

In the days of "riding" and "driving circuit," and even later, the Circuit mess was a very popular inst.i.tution with circuiteers, and was made the occasion of much merriment. After the table had been cleared a fict.i.tious charge would be made against one of the barristers present, and a mock tribunal was immediately const.i.tuted before which he was arraigned and his case duly set forth with all solemnity. The victim was invariably fined--generally in wine, which had to be paid at once, and consumed before the company retired to bed. On one such occasion Serjeant Prime, who is represented as a good-natured but rather dull man, and as a barrister wearisome beyond comparison, was engaged in an important case in an over-crowded courtroom. He had been speaking for three hours, when a boy, seated on a beam above the heads of the audience, overcome by the heat and the serjeant's monotonous tones, fell asleep, and, losing his balance, tumbled down on the people below. The incident was made the subject of a charge against the serjeant at the mess, and he was duly sentenced to pay a fine of two dozen of wine, which he did with the greatest good humour.

Serjeant Wilkins, on one occasion, on defending a prisoner, said: "Drink has upon some an elevating, upon others a depressing, effect; indeed, there is a report, as we all know, that an eminent judge, when at the Bar, was obliged to resort to heavy drinking in the morning, to reduce himself to the level of the judges." Lord Denman, the judge, who had no love for Wilkins, bridled up instantly. His voice trembled with indignation as he uttered the words: "Where is the report, sir? Where is it?" There was a death-like silence. Wilkins calmly turned round to the judge and said: "It was burnt, my lord, in the Temple fire." The effect of this was considerable, and it was a long time before order could be restored, but Lord Denman was one of the first to acknowledge the wit of the answer.

Difference of manner or temperament sometimes gives point to the collisions which occasionally occur in Court between rival counsel.

Serjeant Wilkins, who had an inflated style of oratory, was once opposed in a case to Serjeant Thomas, whose manner of delivery was lighter and more lively. On the conclusion of a heavy bombardment of ponderous Johnsonian sentences from the former, Thomas rose, and, with his eyes fixed on his opponent, prefaced his address to the jury with the words, delivered with much solemnity of manner and intonation: "And now the hurly-burly's done."

Dunning was defending a gentleman in an action brought from _crim. con._ with the plaintiff's wife. The chief witness for the plaintiff was the lady's maid, a clever, self-composed person, who spoke confidently as to seeing the defendant in bed with her mistress. Dunning, on rising to cross-examine her, first made her take off her bonnet, that they might have a good view of her face, but this did not discompose her, as she knew she was good-looking. He then arranged his brief, solemnly drew up his shirt sleeves, and then began: "Are you sure it was not your master you saw in bed with your mistress?"--"Perfectly sure."--"What, do you pretend to say you can be certain when the head only appeared from the bedclothes, and that enveloped in a nightcap?"--"Quite certain."--"You have often found occasion, then, to see your master in his nightcap?"--"Yes--very frequently."--"Now, young woman, I ask you, on your solemn oath, does not your master occasionally go to bed with you?"--"Oh, that trial does not come on to-day, Mr. Slabberchops!"

replied the witness. A loud shout of laughter followed, and Lord Mansfield leaned back to enjoy it, and then gravely leaned forward and asked if Mr. Dunning had any more questions to put to the witness. No answer was given, and none were put. The same counsel, when at the height of his large practice at the Bar, was asked how he got through all his work. He replied: "I do one-third of it; another third does itself; and I don't do the remaining third."