We have already referred to Lord Moncreiff's piety, and to it must be added his great simplicity of nature. Like many of his predecessors, he had a habit of making long speeches to prisoners on their conviction; but his intention was to help them to a better mode of life, not to aggravate their feelings by silly or coarse remarks. This habit, however, led him occasionally into enunciating principles which rather astonished his friends. In a murder case he found that the woman killed was not the wife of the prisoner but his mistress, which led his lordship to explain to the prisoner that it might have been some apology for his crime had the woman been his wife, because there was difficulty in getting rid of her any other way. But the victim being only his associate he could have left her at any time, and consequently there were absolutely no ameliorating circumstances in the case. From this point of view it would seem to have been (in Lord Moncreiff's eyes) less criminal to murder a wife than a mistress. In another, a bigamy case, after referring to the perfidy and cruelty to the women and their relations, Lord Cockburn reports him to have said: "All this is bad; but your true iniquity consists in this, that you degraded that holy ceremony which our blessed Saviour condescended to select as the type of the connection between him and His redeemed Church."
In the Court of Session, the judges who do not attend or give a proper excuse for their absence are (or were) liable to a fine. This, however, is never enforced: but it is customary on the first day of the session for the absentee to send an excuse to the Lord President. Lord Stonefield having sent an excuse, and the Lord President mentioning that he had done so, the Lord Justice-Clerk said: "What excuse can a stout fellow like him hae?"—"My lord," said the President, "he has lost his wife." To which the Justice-Clerk replied: "Has he? That is a gude excuse indeed, I wish we had a' the same."
Lord Cockburn's looks, tones, language, and manner were always such as to make one think that he believed every word he said. On one occasion, before he was raised to the Bench, when defending a murderer, although he failed to convince the judge and jurymen of the innocence of his client, yet he convinced the murderer himself that he was innocent. Sentence of death was pronounced, and the day of execution fixed for the 3rd of March. As Lord Cockburn was passing the condemned man, the latter seized him by the gown, saying: "I have not got justice!" To this the advocate coolly replied: "Perhaps not; but you'll get it on the 3rd of March."
Cockburn's racy humour displayed itself in another serious case; one in which a farm-servant was charged with maiming his master's cattle by cutting off their tails. A consultation was held on the question of the man's mental condition at which the farmer was present, and at the close of it some conversation took place about the disposal of the cattle. Turning to the farmer Cockburn said that they might be sold, but that he would have to dispose of them wholesale for he could not now retail them.
He was walking on the hillside on his estate of Bonaly, near Edinburgh, talking to his shepherd, and speculating about the reasons why his sheep lay on what seemed to be the least sheltered and coldest situation on the hill. Said his lordship: "John, if I were a sheep I would lie on the other side of the hill." The shepherd answered: "Ay, my lord; but if ye had been a sheep ye would have had mair sense."
Sitting long after the usual hour listening to a prosy counsel, Lord Cockburn was commiserated by a friend as they left the Court together with the remark: "Counsel has encroached very much on your time, my lord."—"Time, time," exclaimed his lordship; "he has exhausted time and encroached on eternity."
When a young advocate, Cockburn was a frequent visitor at Niddrie Marischal, near Edinburgh, the residence of Mr. Wauchope. This gentleman was very particular about church-going, but one Sunday he stayed at home and his young guest started for the parish church accompanied by one of his host's handsomest daughters. On their way they passed through the garden, and were so beguiled by the gooseberry bushes that the time slipped away and they found themselves too late for the service. At dinner the laird inquired of his daughter what the text was, and when she failed to tell him he put the question to Cockburn, who at once replied: "The woman whom thou gavest to be with me she gave me of the fruit and I did eat."
Jeffrey and Cockburn were counsel together in a case in which it was sought to prove that the heir of an estate was of low capacity, and therefore incapable of administrating his affairs. Jeffrey had vainly attempted to make a country witness understand his meaning as he spoke of the mental imbecility and impaired intellect of the party. Cockburn rose to his relief, and was successful at once. "D'ye ken young Sandy ——?"—"Brawly," said the witness; "I've kent him sin' he was a laddie."—"An' is there onything in the cratur, d'ye think?"—"Deed," responded the witness, "there's naething in him ava; he wadna ken a coo frae a cauf!"
When addressing the jury in a case in which an officer of the army was a witness, Jeffrey frequently referred to him as "this soldier." The witness, who was in Court, bore this for a time, but at last, exasperated, exclaimed, "I am not a soldier, I'm an officer!"—"Well, gentlemen of the jury," proceeded Jeffrey, "this officer, who on his own statement is no soldier," &c.