Nae playing hocus-pocus
With the tempus and the locus,
Nae pleas in mitigation (a kittle job are they),
Nae bonny rapes and reivings,
Nae forgeries and thievings,—
The days o' my Circuits are a' fled away.
Nae dinners wi' the Judges,
Nae drooning a' your grudges
In deep, deep draughts o' claret, and a' your senses tae,
Nae chatter wise or witty
On ticklish points o' dittay,—
The days o' my Circuits are a' fled away.
Nae high-jinks after dinner
Wi' ony madcap sinner,
Nae drinking whisky-toddy until the break o' day,
Nae speeches till a hiccup
Compels a sudden stick-up,—
The nichts o' my Circuits are a' fled away.
Lord Hermand's manner on the Bench conveyed the impression that he was of an impatient, almost savage temper, but in his domestic circle he was one of the warmest-hearted of men, and one with the simplest of tastes. His outbursts on the Bench, too, were emphasised by what, in Scotland, was called "Birr"—the emphatic energy of his pronunciation—which may be imagined but cannot be transcribed in the following dialogue between him and Lord Meadowbank.
Meadowbank: "We are bound to give judgment in terms of the statute, my lords."
Hermand: "A statute! What's a statute? Words—mere words. And am I to be tied down by words? No, my laards; I go by the law of right reason."
He was a great friend of John Scott (Lord Eldon). In a case appealed to the House of Lords, Scott had taken the trouble to write out his speech, and read it over to Hermand, inviting his opinion of it. "It is delightful—absolutely delightful. I could listen to it for ever," said Hermand. "It is so beautifully written, and so beautifully read. But, sir, it's the greatest nonsense! It may do very well for an English Chancellor, but it would disgrace a clerk with us." The blunder that drew forth this criticism was a gross one for a Scottish lawyer, but one an English barrister might readily fall into.
It was put forward in mitigation of the crime that the prisoner was in liquor when, either rashly or accidentally, he stabbed his friend. While the other judges were in favour of a short sentence, Lord Hermand—who had no sympathy with a man who could not carry his liquor—was vehement for transportation: "We are told that there was no malice, and that the prisoner must have been in liquor. In liquor! Why, he was drunk!... And yet he murdered the very man who had been drinking with him! Good God, my laards, if he will do this when he is drunk, what will he not do when he is sober?"
On one of Lord Hermand's circuits a wag put a musical-box, which played "Jack Alive," on one of the seats of the Court. The music struck the audience with consternation, and the judge stared in the air, looking unutterable things, and frantically called out, "Macer, what in the name of God is that?" The macer looked round in vain, when the wag called out, "It's 'Jack Alive,' my lord."—"Dead or alive, put him out this moment," called out the judge. "We can't grip him, my lord."—"If he has the art of hell, let every man assist to arraign him before me, that I may commit him for this outrage and contempt." Everybody tried to discover the offender, and fortunately the music ceased. But it began again half an hour afterwards, and the judge exclaimed, "Is he there again? By all that's sacred, he shall not escape me this time—fence, bolt, bar the doors of the Court, and at your peril let not a man, living or dead, escape." All was bustle and confusion, the officers looked east and west, and up in the air and down on the floor; but the search was in vain. The judge at last began to suspect witchcraft, and exclaimed, "This is a deceptio auris—it is absolute delusion, necromancy, phantasmagoria." And to the day of his death the judge never understood the precise origin of this unwonted visitation.
On another occasion, in his own Court in the Parliament House, he was annoyed by a noise near the door, and called to the macer, "What is that noise?"—"It's a man, my lord."—"What does he want?"—"He wants in, my lord."—"Keep him out!" The man, it seems, did get in, and soon afterwards a like noise was renewed, and his lordship again demanded, "What's the noise there?"—"It's the same man, my lord."—"What does he want now?"—"He wants out, my lord."—"Then keep him in—I say, keep him in!"