To show the gradual and great improvement of the Irish bench, and the rapid advance as regards the administration of justice in the law courts of that country, I will subjoin a few illustrative anecdotes.
Baron Monckton, of the Exchequer (an importation from England), was said to understand black letter and red wine better than any who had preceded him in that situation. At all events, being often vino deditus, he on such occasions described the segment of a circle in making his way to the seat of justice! This learned baron was longer on the bench than any other I recollect to have heard of; he resided in Butter-lane, and was held as a precedent.
I have in later days enjoyed the intimacy of a very clever well-informed man, and a sound lawyer, who (like the baron) rather indulged in the juice of the grape, and whom Lord Clare had made a judge for some services rendered to himself. The newspapers eulogised this gentleman very much for his singular tender-heartedness, saying, “So great was the humanity of Judge Boyd, that when he was passing sentence of death upon any unfortunate criminal, it was observable that his lordship seldom failed to have ‘a drop in his eye!’” He was, in fact, a humane though firm-minded man, and understood his trade well. He was tall and strong, and his face exactly resembled a scarlet pincushion well studded! He was considered to be a slave to the tender passion, and was called (by no means mal-apropos) “Love in a blaze!”
I remember a barrister being raised to the Irish bench, who had been previously well known by the ingenious surname of Counsellor Necessity,—because “necessitas non legem habet:” and certainly, to do him justice, he was not unworthy of the cognomen.
Old Judge Henn (a very excellent private character) was dreadfully puzzled on circuit, about 1789, by two pertinacious young barristers (arguing a civil bill upon some trifling subject) repeatedly haranguing the court, and each most positively laying down the “law of the case” in direct opposition to his adversary’s statement thereupon. The judge listened with great attention until both were tired of stating the law and contradicting each other, when they unanimously requested his lordship to decide the point.
“How, gentlemen,” said Judge Henn, “can I settle it between you?—You, sir, positively say the law is one way, and you (turning to the opposite party) as unequivocally affirm that it is the other way. I wish to God, Billy Harrison, (to his registrar, who sat underneath,) I knew what the law really was!”
“My lord,” replied Billy Harrison most sententiously, (rising at the same moment, and casting a despairing glance toward the bench,) “if I knew what the law was, I protest to God I would tell your lordship with a great deal of pleasure!”
“Then we’ll save the point, Billy Harrison!” exclaimed the judge.—“What point, my lord?” said Billy.
A more modern justice of the Irish King’s Bench, in giving his dictum on a certain will case, absolutely said, “he thought it very clear that the testator intended to keep a life interest in the estate to himself!” The bar did not laugh outright; but Curran soon rendered that consequence inevitable. “Very true, my lord,” said he, “very true! testators generally do secure life interests to themselves. But, in this case, I rather think your lordship takes the will for the deed!”