Nobs and Plebs in Irish Courts July 22, 2014
Author: Beach Combing | in : Modern , trackback
Nineteenth-century Ireland was a rum place. The vast majority of the population was poor, Catholic and uneducated. The ruling, largely Protestant minority also described themselves as Irish: and many died and fought in the cause of Ireland. But the gulf of communication between these two worlds was immense and this was rarely so evident as in the courtroom.
On the one hand a local ‘squire’ sat as judge, and the prosecution and the defence also typically belonged to the local elite. The accused, the witnesses and the victims, meanwhile, tended to belong to a semi-literate underclass, who survived as best they could till the great famine, when most died or emigrated. There is perhaps nowhere where encounters between the two worlds was as vivid in court. In one sense the anecdotes read like ‘Irish jokes’, the stupid peasant and the bewildered master. But often – and to be fair that wisdom is hinted at in many Irish jokes too – the ‘fool’ had more pep and wit in him than the master andwhen his comments were delivered in a deadpan voice, nothing could be done about the ‘ill manners’ of the Irish peasant. Enjoy some of these classics.
1) Judge Burton, who was a very old and wizened little man, was trying a case, when another very old man, scarcely able to walk, came into court to give evidence. Instead of going to the witness-box, he went towards the passage leading to the bench. McDonagh, the counsel, called out to him. ‘Come back, sir, where are you going? Do you think you are a judge?’ ‘Indeed, sir,’ said the old man looking up at Judge Burton — ‘indeed, sir, I believe I am fit for little else.’
2) Freeman (to Witness): ‘So you had a pistol?’
Witness: ‘I had, sir.’
Freeman. ‘Who did you intend to shoot with it?’
Witness. ‘I wasn’t intending to shoot no one.’
Freeman. ‘Then was it for nothing that you got it?’
Witness. ‘No, it wasn’t.’
Freeman. ‘O Come, come, sir, on the virtue of your solemn oath, what did you get that pistol for?’
Witness. ‘On the virtue of my solemn oath, I got it for three and ninepence in Mr. Richardson’s shop.’
(Much laughter in court.)
Freeman. ‘Oh, how very witty you are! You may go down.’
3) In the north of Ireland the peasantry pronounce the word witness ‘wetness.’ At Derry Assizes a man said he had brought his ‘wetness’ with him to corroborate his evidence.
‘Bless me,’ said the judge, ‘about what age are you’
Witness. ‘Forty-two my last birthday, my lord.’
Judge. ‘Do you mean to tell the jury that at that age you still have a wet nurse?’
Witness. ‘Of course I have, my lord.’
Counsel hereupon interposed and explained.
4) At another time [an aggressive cross-questioner] said to a witness, ‘You’re a nice fellow, ain’t you?’ Witness replied, ‘I am a nice fellow; and if I was not on my oath, I’d say the same of you.’
5) The point at issue was the identity of a valuable picture, and hosts of witnesses, many of them humble Irish folk, were examined on either side. One of these Irishmen, who had turned his harp to the romantic air of his own county court, was a shock to a judge of pedestrian imagination. Darling [the judge] at last turned to him sternly and said: ‘Tell me, in your country what happens to a witness who does not tell the truth?’ ‘Begor, me Lord,’ replied the Irishman, with a candour that disarmed all criticism, ‘I think his side usually wins’.
Other nobs vs plebs in court? drbeachcombing AT yahoo DOT com
Mike Lynd sends in these classics: ‘During his legal career, Pakenham became something of a legend, and, 25 years on, accounts of his exploits are still current. During his appearance before an irascible and unpopular judge in a drugs case, the evidence, a bag of cannabis, was produced. The judge, considering himself an expert on the subject, said to Pakenham, with whom he had clashed during the case: “Come on, hand the exhibit up to me quickly.” Then he proceeded to open the package. Inserting the contents in his mouth, he chewed it and announced: “Yes, yes of course that is cannabis. Where was the substance found, Mr Pakenham?” The reply came swiftly, if inaccurately: “In the defendant’s anus, my Lord.” Pakenham’s final appearance in court has been variously recorded. As defence counsel in a complicated fraud case, he was due to address the court during the afternoon session, and had partaken of a particularly well-oiled lunch. “Members of the jury,” he began, “it is my duty as defence counsel to explain the facts of this case on my client’s behalf; the Judge will guide you and advise you on the correct interpretation of the law and you will then consider your verdict. Unfortunately,” Pakenham went on, “for reasons which I won’t go into now, my grasp of the facts is not as it might be. The judge is nearing senility; his knowledge of the law is pathetically out of date, and will be of no use in assisting you to reach a verdict. While by the look of you, the possibility of you reaching a coherent verdict can be excluded.” He was led from the court.’ Stephen D. ‘From nineteenth-century Ireland, three items: One, the Tipperary Alibi, which needed good men and true who would go to court and testify on oath that the prosecution witnesses were somewhere else at the time. Unleashed on an inexperienced judge, this would so confuse the case that no guilty verdict was possible. The alibi-mongers justified their perjury by arguing that the Good Book forbids us to give false witness against our neighbour, but when the poor feller’s in trouble saying something for him is quite all right. Two, the experience of a recently-appointed magistrate, sitting for the first time in a court previously dominated by the late Mr Justice McDonnell. NAM: Time to begin, now. First case? Old usher: McCarthy v. Driscoll. CLEAR THE COURT! All except the parties are driven out. NAM (uncertain of his footing): Is this the usual procedure? Usher: The late Mr Justice McDonnell always had it done this way, sorr. NAM: But what about the witnesses? Usher (with infinite contempt for NAM’s naivety): The late Mr Justice McDonnell would never waste the court’s time with the witnesses, sorr. Three: after a verdict of Not Guilty in the teeth of the evidence, the judge addresses the accused: “Tim O’Connor, you have been acquitted by a Limerick jury and leave the court with no other stain on your character. But I’ll tell you what, Tim. Take a good look at the men in the jury box, and remember what they look like. Because I promise you, Tim, that if you ever do to one of them what you did to that poor boy in this case, I’ll make sure you get off.”’ Thanks to Stephen and Mike L.
