Lord Jeffrey himself declared that he only went to Oxford to improve his accent, and according to some of the older members of the Bar of his days, he only lost his Scots accent and did not learn the English. A story of his early days at the Bar is related to the effect that when pleading before Lord Newton the judge stopped him and asked in broad Scots, "Whaur were ye educat', Maister Jawfrey."—"Oxford, my lord."—"Then I doot ye maun gang back there again, for we can mak' nocht o' ye here." But Mr. Jeffrey got back his own. For, before the same judge, happening to speak of an "itinerant violinist," Lord Newton inquired: "D'ye mean a blin' fiddler?"—"Vulgarly so called, my lord," was the reply.
HENRY COCKBURN, LORD COCKBURN.
Circuit Courts were in Scotland, in the eighteenth and early years of the nineteenth century (as in England and Ireland), occasions for a great display in the county towns in which they were held. Whether the judges had arrived on horseback or as later in their private carriages, there was always the procession to the court-house, in which the notabilities of the district took part. Lord Cockburn, who had no sympathy with this part of a judge's duties, thus describes one of his experiences in the early days of his Circuit journeys: "Yet there are some of us who like the procession, though it can never be anything but mean and ludicrous, and who fancy that a line of soldiers, or the more civic array of paltry policemen, or of doited special constables, protecting a couple of judges who flounder in awkward gowns and wigs through ill-paved streets, followed by a few sneering advocates and preceded by two or three sheriffs or their substitutes, with their swords, which trip them, and a provost and some bailie-bodies trying to look grand, the whole defended by a poor iron mace, and advancing each with a different step, to the sound of two cracked trumpets, ill-blown by a couple of drunken royal trumpeters, the spectators all laughing, who fancy that all this pretence of greatness and reality of littleness contributes to the dignity of judges." Things are changed now. Even Lord Cockburn saw the change that the introduction of railways made in the progress of Circuit work, and with them a lesser display and more dignified opening of the courts of justice in local towns. But the older Circuits were times of much feasting and merriment, in which the judges of that period took their full share as well as the members of the Bar accompanying them. In the eyes of some of these old worthies it was part of the dignity of their position to sit down after Court work at two o'clock in the morning to a collation of salmon and roast beef, and drink bumpers of claret and mulled port with the provosts and other local worthies, although they were due in Court that same morning at nine to try some miserable creature for a serious crime. Lord Pitmilly had no stomach for such proceedings, his inclination was stronger for decorum and law than for revelling. Once at a Circuit town he ordered his servant to bring to his room a kettle of hot water. Lord Hermand on his way to dinner at midnight, meeting the servant, said, "God bless me, is he going to make a whole kettle of punch—and before supper too?"—"No, my lord, he's going to bed, but he wants to bathe his feet."—"Feet, sir! what ails his feet? Tell him to put some rum among it, and to give it all to his stomach."
The Circuit sermon was an important part of the duties to which the judges had to attend in the course of their visits in the country. One of these that Lord Cockburn had to listen to was delivered from the text, "What are these that are arrayed in white robes, and whence came they?" There was nothing personal intended, but the ermine on the judges gowns naturally attracted significant glances from the other members of the congregation. A Glasgow clergyman and friend of the judge, not knowing that his lordship was present in his church, preached from the text, "There was in a city a judge which feared not God, neither regarded man." The announcement of the text directed all eyes towards the learned judge, which attracting the preacher's attention nearly prevented him from proceeding further with the service. The judge was the pious Lord Moncreiff, the son of the Rev. Sir Henry Wellwood Moncreiff, and the text stuck to him ever afterwards. But there seemed to have been deliberation in selection of the text made by a south-country minister who, before Lord Justice Boyle and Samuel M'Cormick, Advocate-Depute, preached from I Samuel vii. 16, "And Samuel went from year to year in circuit to Bethel, and Gilgal, and Mizpeh." The two legal gentlemen took offence at this audacious attempt to ridicule the Court, they identifying the places mentioned in the text as representing their circuit towns of Jedburgh, Dumfries, and Ayr. In this connection maybe told the story of Lord Hermand, beside whom stood the clergyman whose duty it was to offer up the opening prayer before the work of the Court began. He seemed to think the company had assembled for no other purpose than to hear him perform, and after praying loud and long his lordship's patience gave way, and with a decided jog of his elbow he exclaimed in a stage whisper, "We've a lot of business to do, sir."
From a somewhat rare volume printed for private circulation we are permitted to quote the following ballad, the authorship of which may be easily guessed, as the circuiteer who mourns the loss of his Circuit days may be as easily identified.