WILLIAM MURRAY, EARL OF MANSFIELD, LORD CHIEF JUSTICE.
Mansfield was not credited with lively sensibility, but his humanity was shocked at the thought of killing a man for a trifling theft. Trying a prisoner at the Old Baily on the charge of stealing in a dwelling-house to the value of 40s.—when this was a capital offence—he advised the jury to find a gold trinket, the subject of the indictment, to be of less value. The prosecutor exclaimed with indignation, "Under 40s., my lord! Why, the fashion alone cost me more than double the sum."—"God forbid, gentlemen, we should hang a man for fashion's sake," observed Lord Mansfield to the jury.
An indictment was tried before him at the Assizes, preferred by parish officers for keeping an hospital for lying-in women, whereby the parish was burdened by illegitimate children. He expressed doubts whether this was an indictable offence, and after hearing arguments in support of it he thus gave his judgment. "We sit here under a Commission requiring us to deliver this gaol, and the statute has been cited to make it unlawful to deliver a woman who is with child. Let the indictment be quashed."
Having met at supper the famous Dr. Brocklesby, he entered into familiar conversation with him, and there was an interchange of stories just a little trenching on the decorous. It so happened that the doctor had to appear next morning before Lord Mansfield in the witness-box; and on the strength of the previous evening's doings the witness, on taking up his position, nodded to the Chief Justice with offensive familiarity as to a boon companion. His lordship taking no notice of his salutation, but writing down his evidence, when he came to summing it up to the jury thus proceeded: "The next witness is one Rocklesby or Brocklesby, Brocklesby or Rocklesby—I am not sure which—and first he swears he is a physician."
Lord Chief Baron Parker, in his eighty-seventh year, having observed to Lord Mansfield who was seventy-eight: "Your lordship and myself are now at sevens and eights," the younger Chief Justice replied: "Would you have us to be all our lives at sixes and sevens? But let us talk of young ladies and not old age."
Trying an action which arose from the collision of two ships at sea, a sailor who gave an account of the accident said, "At the time I was standing abaft the binnacle."—"Where is abaft the binnacle?" asked Lord Mansfield; upon which the witness, who had taken a large share of grog before coming into Court, exclaimed loud enough to be heard by all present: "A pretty fellow to be a judge, who don't know where abaft the binnacle is!" Lord Mansfield, instead of threatening to commit him for contempt, said: "Well, my friend, fit me for my office by telling me where abaft the binnacle is; you have already shown me the meaning of half-seas over."
On one occasion Lord Mansfield covered his retreat from an untenable position with a sparkling pleasantry. An old witness named ELM having given his evidence with remarkable clearness, although he was more than eighty years of age, Lord Mansfield examined him as to his habitual mode of living, and found he had been through life an early riser and a singularly temperate man. "Ay," remarked the Chief Justice, in a tone of approval, "I have always found that without temperance and early habits longevity is never attained." The next witness, the elder brother of this model of temperance, was then called, and he almost surpassed his brother as an intelligent and clear-headed utterer of evidence. "I suppose," observed Lord Mansfield, "that you are an early riser?"—"No, my lord," answered the veteran stoutly; "I like my bed at all hours, and special-lie I like it of a morning."—"Ah, but like your brother, you are a very temperate man?" quickly asked the judge, looking out anxiously for the safety of the more important part of his theory. "My lord," responded this ancient Elm, disdaining to plead guilty to a charge of habitual sobriety, "I am a very old man, and my memory is as clear as a bell, but I can't remember the night when I've gone to bed without being more or less drunk."—"Ah, my lord," Mr. Dunning exclaimed, "this old man's case supports a theory unheld by many persons—that habitual intemperance is favourable to longevity."—"No, no," replied the Chief Justice with a smile; "this old man and his brother merely teach us what every carpenter knows—that Elm, whether it be wet or dry, is a very tough wood."
