Sir James Colquhoun, Bart. of Luss, Principal Clerk of Session, was one of the odd characters of his time, and was much teased by the wags of the Parliament House. On one occasion, whilst Henry Erskine was at the Inner House Bar, during the advising of some important case he amused himself by making faces at Sir James, who was sitting at the Clerk’s table, beneath the Judges. His victim was much annoyed at the strange conduct of the tormenting lawyer, and, unable to bear it, disturbed the gravity of the Court by rising, and exclaiming—“My Lord, my Lord, I wish you would speak to Harry, he’s aye making faces at me!”
Harry, however, looked as grave as a judge.
Peace ensued, and the advising went on, when Sir James, casting his eyes towards the Bar, witnessed a new grimace from his tormentor, and convulsed Bench, Bar, and audience by roaring out, “There, my Lord, he’s at it again!”
Erskine was remarkable for his ready wit and stinging repartee. Like the illustrious John Clerk of Eldin, he was indifferent to the rules of pronunciation, and in pleading before a learned senator he spoke of a curator bonis.
“Allow me to correct you,” said his Lordship, “the word is curaator.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” said Erskine. “I doubt not your Lordship is right, since you are so learned a senaator, and so eloquent an oraator.”
Mr. Erskine of Alva, subsequently Lord Bargaig, was a person of short stature. Having been counsel in a case in which Henry Erskine appeared on the opposite side, he was obliged on account of the crowded state of the court to have a chair brought forward on which to raise himself when addressing the judge.
“This,” remarked Henry, “is one way of rising at the Bar.”
To a Judge of the Commissary Court, who talked in an inflated and pompous manner, who told him that his brother in the country had fallen from a stile and sprained his foot—
“It was fortunate for your brother,” remarked Henry, “that it was not from your style he fell, or he had certainly broken his neek.”