One of the most honourable and humane judges I ever saw upon the Irish bench was the late Justice Kelly, of the Common Pleas. He acquired professionally a very large fortune, and died at a great age, beloved and regretted by every being who had known him. It was he who tried the cause of Lady M—; and never did I see him chuckle with pleasure and a proper sense of gallantry more than he did at the verdict in that case.
He was no common man. Numerous anecdotes have been told of him: many singular ones I myself witnessed; but none which did not do credit to some just or gentlemanly feeling. He had practised several years in the West Indies; and studying at the Temple on his return, was in due season admitted to the Irish bar, to the head of which he rose with universal approbation.
At the time the Irish insisted on a declaration of their independence Judge Kelly had attained the high dignity of prime sergeant; a law office not known in England. In Ireland the prime sergeant was at the head of his profession, having precedence of the attorney and solicitor-general. On the government first opposing the declaration of Irish independence Kelly, from his place in Parliament, declared “he should consider it rather a disgrace than an honour to wear the prime sergeant’s gown under a ministry which resisted the rights of his country!” and immediately sent in his resignation, and retired to the rank of a private barrister.
Among such a people, and in consequence of such conduct, it is useless to attempt describing his popularity. Nobody was satisfied who had not Tom Kelly for his advocate in the courts: no suitor was content who had not Tom Kelly’s opinion as to title: all purchasers of property must have Tom Kelly’s sanction for their speculations. In a word, he became both an oracle and a fortune-teller: his court-bag grew too heavy for his strength; but he got through every cause gallantly and cheerfully: he was always prepared; his perseverance never yielded; his arguments seldom failed; his spirits never flagged. This enviable old man lived splendidly, yet saved a large fortune. At length, it was found so unpopular to leave him at the bar, that he was first appointed solicitor-general, and then mounted on the bench of the Common Pleas, where having sat many years, he retired to his beautiful country residence, near Stradbally, Queen’s County, and lived as a country gentleman in hospitable magnificence. He married three of his daughters well, pursued his field-sports to his death, and departed this world to the unanimous regret of all who knew him.
Judge Kelly’s only son, while his father yet lived, turned methodist; got infatuated among devotees and old women; became a sectarian preacher! and has by these means contrived, as thoroughly as the possession of a large fortune will permit him, to bury once more the family name in that obscurity whence his father had raised it. After Judge Kelly had assumed the bench the public began to find out that his legal knowledge had been overrated! his opinions were overruled—his advice thought scarce worth having—his deductions esteemed illogical:—in short, he lost altogether the character of an infallible lawyer; but had the happiness of thinking he had confirmed his reputation for honour, justice, and integrity. He used to say, laughingly, “So they find out now that I am not a very stanch lawyer. I am heartily glad they did not find it out thirty years ago!”
He loved the world; and this was only gratitude, for the world loved him; and nobody ever yet enjoyed existence with more cheerfulness and composure. “Egad!” he used to say, “this world is wheeling round and round quite too fast to please me. For my part, I’d rather be a young shoe-boy than an old judge.” He always most candidly admitted his legal mistakes. I recollect my friend William Johnson once pressing him very fiercely to a decision in his favour, and stating as an argument (in his usual peremptory tone to judges he was not afraid of) that there could be no doubt on the point—precedent was imperative in the matter, as his lordship had decided the same points the same way twice before.
“So, Mr. Johnson,” said the judge, looking archly—shifting his seat somewhat, and shrugging up his right shoulder,—“so! because I decided wrong twice, Mr. Johnson, you’d have me do so a third time? No, no, Mr. Johnson! you must excuse me. I’ll decide right this bout:”—and so he did. Had he died previous to this circumstance, his two wrong decisions would have been precedents and settled law.
The anecdotes of his quaint humour are in fact innumerable, and some of his charges quite extraordinary. His profile was very like Edmund Burke’s: he had that sharp kind of nose which gives a singular cast to the general contour; but there was always an appearance of drollery lurking in his countenance. No man could more justly boast of carrying about him proofs of nationality, as few ever had the Irish dialect stronger. It was in every word and every motion! Curran used to say he had the brogue in his shoulders! If Judge Kelly conceived he had no grounds to be ashamed of his country, she had still less to be ashamed of him. He was calculated to do credit to any land.
I also had the pleasure of being acquainted with Mr. Arthur Wolfe intimately, afterward Baron Kilwarden, and chief justice of Ireland. This gentleman had, previously to his advancement, acquired very high eminence as an equity lawyer: he was many years my senior at the bar.
Wolfe had no natural genius, and but scanty general information: his talents were originally too feeble to raise him by their unassisted efforts into any political importance. Though patronised by the Earl of Tyrone, and supported by the Beresford aristocracy, his rise was slow and gradual; and his promotion to the office of solicitor-general had been long predicted, not from his ability, but in consequence of his reputation as a good-hearted man and a sound lawyer.