When at the Bar, Erskine was always encouraged by the appreciation of his brother barristers. On one occasion, when making an unusual exertion on behalf of a client, he turned to Mr. Garrow, who was his colleague, and not perceiving any sign of approbation on his countenance, he whispered to him, "Who do you think can get on with that d—d wet blanket face of yours before him."
Nor did he always exhibit graciousness to older members. One nervous old barrister named Lamb, who usually prefaced his pleadings with an apology, said to Erskine one day that he felt more timid as he grew older. "No wonder," replied Erskine, "the older the lamb the more sheepish he grows."
When he was Lord Chancellor he was invited to attend the ministerial fish dinner at Greenwich—known in later years as the Whitebait Dinner—he replied: "To be sure I will attend. What would your fish dinner be without the Great Seal?"
When a stupid jury returns an obviously wrong verdict the judge must feel himself in an awkward position; but in such cases—if they ever occur now—a good precedent has been set by Mr. Justice Maule who, when in that predicament, addressed the prisoner in these terms:
"Prisoner, your counsel thinks you innocent, the prosecution thinks you innocent, and I think you innocent. But a jury of your own fellow-countrymen, in the exercise of such common sense as they possess, have found you guilty, and it remains that I should pass sentence upon you. You will be imprisoned for one day, and as that day was yesterday, you are free to go about your business."
"May God strike me dead! my lord, if I did it," excitedly exclaimed a prisoner who had been tried before the same justice for a serious offence, and a verdict of "guilty" returned by the jury. The judge looked grave, and paused an unusually long time before saying a word. At last, amid breathless silence, he began: "As Providence has not seen fit to interpose in your case, it now becomes my duty to pronounce upon you the sentence of the law," &c. When somewhat excited over a very bad case tried before him he would delay sentence until he felt calmer, lest his impulse or his temper should lead him astray. On one such occasion he exclaimed, "I can't pass sentence now. I might be too severe. I feel as if I could give the man five-and-twenty years' penal servitude. Bring him up to-morrow when I feel calmer."—"Thank you, my lord," said the prisoner, "I know you will think better of it in the morning." Next day the man appeared in the dock for sentence. "Prisoner," said the judge, "I was angry yesterday, but I am calm to-day. I have spent a night thinking of your awful deeds, and I find on inquiry I can sentence you to penal servitude for life. I therefore pass upon you that sentence. I have thought better of what I was inclined to do yesterday."
There are instances of brief summing up of a case by judges, but few in the terms expressed by this worthy judge. "If you believe the witnesses for the plaintiff, you will find for the defendant; if you believe the witnesses for the defendant, you will find for the plaintiff. If, like myself, you don't believe any of them, Heaven knows which way you will find. Consider your verdict."
To Mr. Justice Maule a witness said: "You may believe me or not, but I have stated not a word that is false, for I have been wedded to truth from my infancy."—"Yes, sir," said the judge dryly; "but the question is, how long have you been a widower?"
In the good old days a learned counsel of ferocious mien and loud voice, practising before him, received a fine rebuke from the justice. No reply could be got from an elderly lady in the box, and the counsel appealed to the judge. "I really cannot answer," said the trembling lady. "Why not, ma'am?" asked the judge. "Because, my lord, he frightens me so."—"So he does me, ma'am," replied the judge.