Month: July 2021

Half a Century After Renouncing Monastic Vows, Septuagenarian Barrister Magistrate Marries his Nurse, 1908

From the Dublin Evening Telegraph, 28 April 1908:

“INTERESTING ROMANCE

At St Patrick’s Church, Monkstown, at half-past nine o’clock yesterday morning, Mr Thomas J Wall, K.C., 26 Longford Terrace, Monkstown, was married to Miss Gertrude Garland, of Dublin. The ceremony was performed by the Rev Father Eaton, P.P., of Monkstown. The son of the bridegroom is stated to have been present, presumably in the capacity of best man. Mr Wall, Junior, is about 26 years of age, and a very popular young gentleman, being a captain in the City of Dublin Artillery Militia. After the ceremony the bridegroom, Mr Wall, and Mrs Wall, departed by the ten o’clock train from Sandycove station on their honeymoon southwards. To-day the wedding is the talk of Monkstown, and even of Kingstown, mainly because of the romantic circumstances attached to it, and to the local regret that Mr Wall, who is so well known a public man, would have conducted his nuptials in so discreet and quiet a manner. No one knew of the celebration, except those immediately concerned.

Mr Wall, who has lived at Monkstown since he became Chief Divisional Magistrate of the Dublin Metropolitan Police, has become extremely popular there, having for many years occupied a prominent place in the legal profession. He was called to the Bar as far back as 1861. Though on the Bench somewhat inclined to be severe in manner, impartially hard upon all classes of witnesses, a veritable note of perpetual interrogation, he is known in private life to be extremely affable and to be, in fact, a most amiable personality. He is a man extremely devoted to his public duties.

After a long day’s work in the Police Courts – not shortened by his anxiety to have every possible witness and circumstance brought before him – he has been known to light his pipe, cigar or cigarette, and to roam as an ordinary citizen about the streets of Dublin where the poor live and where his form and visage is perfectly known, studying for himself the conditions of the classes, a proportion of whom usually come before him in public. And it is remarkable that it has never been known that an angry or even an impolite expression has been used towards him on any of these Haroun al Raschid peregrinations. Although the Sultan went always disguised, Mr Wall went on his own – open and undisguised. The fact is that his sense of justice and cordial feeling for the poor have been recognised.

The story of the wedding current in Monkstown, if romantic, is creditable alike to bride and bridegroom. There is a certain disparity in their years – it might not be May and December, but certainly July and November. Mr Wall had settled down into widowhood, which happened some years ago, when he was attacked by a severe illness. A nurse was summoned from a leading city hospital to attend him, and the lady connected did her duties so kindly and winningly that Mr Wall decided he could not do without her, and on her part she conceived a sincere affection for her patient. So they married, and the congratulations and good wishes of all their friends, both in public and private life, will follow them on their excursion into the sunny South.”

Not mentioned in the article, and presumably long-forgotten by 1908, was Mr Wall’s interesting early history – before joining the Bar, he had taken monastic vows, only to subsequently renounce them and successfully recover his property from the Order in question on the basis of undue influence!

Mr Wall died in July 1910 at the age of 75, after collapsing due to acute pneumonia. One obituary described him as having ‘often created much amusement in court by the pungency of his sallies, directed for the most part at police witnesses,’ which may go some way to explaining his popularity. His early institutional experiences might also explain his distrust of authority!

Mr Wall was still sitting as a magistrate at the time of his death – here’s one of his decisions.

The War of the Motions: Silk Precedence in the Court of Exchequer, 1834-39

From the Dublin Morning Register, 24 February 1836:

“By some strange combination amongst the clients, almost all the law business of the country is brought into the Court of Exchequer, the Common Pleas being perfectly idle, the judges absolute masters of their own time, and being frequently met with at one o’clock in the day during the middle of term at Kingstown or Howth, enjoying a little country air ‘after the fatigues of business.’ Unfortunately it does not appear to be the policy of this court either to accommodate the public or the junior bar; the rights of the latter it has attempted to crush altogether.

I allude more particularly to Baron Pennefather’s decision the other day, when he sat to hear the arrear of motions. On the last of the eight motion days this term the juniors had precedence, but that day was altogether consumed by a motion which stood over from some days before, and which was argued by King’s Counsel. A junior counsel got up to move as soon as Baron Pennefather got on the bench, but that learned, self-sufficient and infallible baron at once stopped him by saying that he thought the inner bar had not had sufficient opportunity of moving and that he should call on them.

It was in vain that the junior replied that the junior bar had no opportunity of moving on any other day. The learned baron was inflexible, and he called on his brother, Mr Pennefather, to move, and next on his brother-in-law, Mr Bennett. Both had their bags well filled and the court to themselves for many hours, while the junior bar, whose right to precedence was never before questioned, was for several days deprived of the exercise of that right, to the serious loss and inconvenience of themselves and their clients.

A JUNIOR BARRISTER.”

At the time, eight days were set aside for motions in the Court of Exchequer each term, with no advance listing of motions and with Seniors having precedence in relation to moving same save on the last of the eight days, when Juniors had precedence (at least once the choir of Christchurch had finished singing).

Complaints about senior motion privileges had already been aired in the Inquirer in May 1834, when it had been stated that the effect of the precedence given to KCs in that court in relation to the moving of motions, each having the right to move three, had had the effect of almost creating a monopoly for ‘that portion of the bar who want it least, having surmounted the difficulties of an arduous profession.’

The same article also pointed out that because of the weight of business in the Court at the time, ‘an entire term will often elapse before the junior who may have been entrusted with some motion can get an opportunity to move it.’

The February 1836 letter provoked a reply from another barrister (gown material unstated) which described the profession as having more confidence in the Court of Exchequer, and as more satisfied with the manner in which business was carried on there, than in any other court (the fees were also higher!) and saying that the charge of self-sufficiency and want of courtesy against Baron Pennefather was one with which very few members of the bar would concur, and that the good baron had in fact subsequently gone to the trouble of sitting on additional motion days to ensure all junior bar motions were dealt with before vacation.

In November 1837, when junior bar motions were again not dealt with in full during the eight motion days, and had to be assigned an additional motion day, the junior bar did not attend at all on this additional day. Whether intended as a statement or not, this non-appearance failed to make any impression at all on Baron Pennefather, who merely remarked that he hoped that there would be no more complaints about motions not being heard.

Of course, the junior bar’s objection to seniors taking precedence at Exchequer motions was not really about motions not getting on, but more about discouraging senior practice in motion lists, it being thought that if the senior bar had to wait around in line they would not be interested in engaging in this sort of work at all, thereby leaving the field free for their junior colleagues.

In January 1839 junior bar agitators took the further step of calling a general meeting of the bar to vote on a resolution that motions in the Court of Exchequer be listed according to their dates and called in the order of the list. Although the resolution was carried, it all came to nothing when the then father of the bar, Mr Dickson QC, insisted on having it engrossed and left in the library for signature, thereby giving members a second chance to decide as to whether to vote for call in order of the list or in order of seniority. Possibly as a result of pressure from the senior bar, a number of juniors then changed their mind, with the majority of signatures ultimately favouring call in order of seniority.

Their covert attempt to discourage the senior bar from appearing in motion lists having failed, the agitators fell back on the more extreme tactic of having QCs excluded from motions altogether – something which met with surprising judicial support. In June 1842, the Dublin Register gleefully reported that

“The Lord Chief Justice [of the Queen’s Bench] refused the other day to hear Mr Brewster make a motion of course, which should, by right, have been made by a member of the outer bar.  His lordship observed that he could not sanction silk gownsmen making those motions which properly belonged to the junior branch of the profession.  Mr Hatchell came on the following day to make a similar motion, and Mr Justice Crampton, acting upon the preceded given by the Chief Justice refused to hear him.  We trust that the other two courts, particularly the Exchequer, where so much junior business is done by Queen’s Counsel, will following the example set by the Queen’s Bench.”

Before long, the Courts of Exchequer and Common Pleas had followed suit in barring seniors from moving any but the most complex and involved motions. Perhaps, if Mr Dickson QC had not acted to frustrate the resolution of 1839, the senior bar might not have lost their motion practice so definitively.

The Lord Chief Justice so instrumental in excluding QCs from motion work was the very same Edward Pennefather previously accused by the junior bar of having unfairly taken up motion time which should have gone to junior counsel. Shocking though the letter at the start of the piece may have seemed at the time, it certainly seems to have achieved its objective – and then some!

The 19th century junior bar was a formidable group unafraid to argue its case against silks and solicitors alike! More to come!

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Mother of Bride Dies of Apoplexy as Officer Groom Exposed as Fraudster, 1857

From the Carlow Post, 1857:

“An extraordinary case just occurred in Kingstown [now Dun Laoghaire] Police Court. It appears that a gentleman who recently held a commission in the 95th Foot was about to be married to a lady in that town. On passing through Birmingham, last week, he purchased jewellery to the value of about £45 or £50, and gave a draft on a London bank, in the name of Lord Charles Hay, and then proceeded to Ireland. The draft, on being presented in London, was declared to be worthless – the drawer not being known. The jeweller, with a Birmingham police officer then started for Kingstown, where the offender was discovered on Sunday morning last, suffering in a frightful manner from delirium tremens. He was arrested and brought to the police-office. Informations were taken, and, on his being identified, he was transmitted to Kilmainham, prison on remand, to be forwarded to Birmingham as soon as the fit was over. The young lady’s mother received so terrible a shock, almost on the eve of the day fixed for her daughter’s wedding, that she was struck with apoplexy, and died on Sunday afternoon. The gentleman was a Crimean officer.”

In an era in which marrying off one’s daughters was a second career for society women, a broken engagement could be nearly as traumatic for the mother of the bride as the bride herself. I wonder were the jewels a present for the wedding party – if so, the shock of losing them may also have contributed.

Some might think the young lady here had a lucky escape!

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Lord Chancellor’s Mace-Bearer Fined for Assaulting Dublin United Tramways Conductor, 1902

From the Irish News and Belfast Morning News, 1 July 1902:

“SCENE IN A TRAMCAR

Today in the Southern Police Court, before Mr Wall KC, a respectable-looking elderly man named Matthew Orr, a crier in the Four Courts, was brought up in custody of Constable 46B, charged at the instance of Patrick Reddy, a conductor in the employment of the Dublin United Tramways Company, with having been guilty of disorderly behaviour by catching Reddy by the corner of the coat, shaking him, and striking him on the left jaw with his clenched fist, also refusing to pay his fare of one penny, and refusing to tell his name and address to the conductor, and further with endangering his life by running through the front door of the car and jumping from the platform onto the guard-shafts, the car being then in motion.  There was a second charge preferred by the constable of refusing his name when asked for it in Westmoreland Street, and also with assaulting him by catching him by the collar of the tunic and endeavouring to knock him down, and violently resisting arrest.

Mr Gerald Byrne prosecuted on behalf of the Tramway Company, and the accused was defended by Mr RF Todd (instructed by Mr Wm McCune).

When the defendant entered the dock, Mr Wall asked – What is this man? I know his face very well.

Mr Todd – He is the crier of the Court of Chancery.

Patrick Reddy, 6 Brighton Avenue, deposed that he was conductor of a tramcar coming between Rathfarnham and Drumcondra, which was proceeding northwards towards the latter place between four and five o’clock on Saturday evening.  Accused got on the tram at Leonard’s Corner at Clanbrassil Street and paid a penny fare.  The stage began at Harold’s Cross Bridge and ended at the Grattan Statue, College Green.  Witness on reaching the latter place told him that the stage was ended.

Mr Byrne – What did he say? He told me I did not know where he got on the car.  I told him I knew very well where he got on, and that in any case the penny fare was up.

Witness, continuing, said the car went on towards Westmoreland Street, and he asked Orr for an extra fare.  He said he would pay no more.  Witness demanded his fare three times altogether.

After further evidence the accused, acting on his counsel’s advices, apologised, and Mr Wall said that settled the case from the tramway point of view.  In regards to the police charges he would impose a fine of 10s.”

Mr Orr was a person of considerable importance in the Four Courts, being responsible for looking after the massive silver mace with ancient Irish ornament which had been part of the insignia of the Lord High Chancellorship since that office was first established.  Always displayed prominently on the left side of the court during the presence of the Lord Chancellor, the mace was carried before him by his crier as he moved from court to court.   

Stolen during the occupation of the Four Courts in 1922, the mace was subsequently recovered under the floorboards of Arran Quay.  The Weekly Irish Times of 15th July, 1922, ran a piece dealing with its recovery, which included (above) a late 19th century photograph of Mr Orr holding the mace.  It looks rather imposing, and with some sharp edges. Just as well its bearer was off-duty during his altercation with Mr Reddy – or he might have done a lot more damage!

The transition from a position of authority at work to mere everyday customer outside can be difficult! But Four Courts tipstaffs could sometimes be over-zealous even in the pursuit of their official duties. Read about another criminal case from the mid-19th century involving a Mr Falkner here.

Was Mr Orr a relation of David Orr, the Four Courts plumber involved in a gas explosion in the Bankruptcy Court in 1888? It would be interesting to know!

Laughter at Under-the-Table Police Chase in Rolls Court, 1857

From the Wexford People, 17 June 1857:

“The Master of the Rolls having taken his seat on the bench on Tuesday last, proceeded with the hearing of motions of course. Before they had concluded, Mr Richard Major Hassard, the well-known litigant, who has been for some years past in the frequent habit of making viva voce appeals in person to the equity judges, made his appearance at the side bar, and addressed his Honor, complaining of an order lately made by him in one of the suits in which Mr Hassard and his wife are parties.

Master of the Rolls – I have made my order, and if you are dissatisfied with it you may appeal. I will not discuss it with you now… you must go to the Court of Appeal, which is now sitting, if you are not satisfied with my order.

Mr Hassard, notwithstanding his lordship’s intimidation, continued to press his complaints, interrupting counsel who were speaking in cases fixed for the sitting of the court.

His Honor – Sir, I will not allow you to disturb the court. If you persevere I must have you removed by the police.

Mr Hassard – Very well, my lord, give me into custody at your peril.

Policemen having come forward to remove Mr Hassard, he made a sudden dive under the table and disappeared to the laughter of all the spectators. The policemen, who were far beyond man’s ordinary stature, vainly endeavoured to squeeze their persons into the small space between the table and the floor which had readily admitted the spare figure of the disappointed litigant. After a time, one of them succeeded in getting on all-fours into his concealment, and gave chase. On Hassard’s sudden disappearance, the business of the court had been resumed, and Mr Hughes, QC, addressing the court, was obliged to throw down his brief convulsed with laughter. The hero of a hundred legal battles flying along, still under the table, from the policeman who was in pursuit of him, had seized the eminent Queen’s Counsel by the legs. On this circumstances becoming known, the bar, the spectators, and even the ordinarily immovable gravity of the learned judge, were overcome.

Nor were the sounds that issued from under the table of a character that tended to diminish the ludicrousness of the occasion. Kicks and plunges might be heard, mingled with such exclamations as these sounding through the wood, like the conversations of Gallagher, the ventriloquist:- ‘Let me go’ – ‘That’s not fair’ – ‘This isn’t justice’ – ‘I’m getting no fair play.’

Mr Hughes at length suggested to his honour the propriety of adjourning the court for a few minutes. To this the learned judge acceded, and left the bench. A few minutes afterwards Mr Hassard emerged from his hiding place at the opposite side from that at which he entered, starting up covered with dust amongst the Queen’s counsel as suddenly as he had disappeared, at the same time that his colossal pursuer came up at the other side, his face red and swollen from exertions in the unusual enterprise in which he had been engaged.

Mr Hassard then walked quietly out with the policeman, and remained for some time perambulating in the hall, an object of interest to all who saw him, and obviously pleased at the ‘sensation’ his antics had occasioned. His Honour immediately afterwards resumed his place on the bench, and the business was proceeded with as usual.”

This exciting chase took place in the Rolls Court behind the Round Hall, just about where Court 5 is today. The Master of the Rolls in Ireland at the time was Thomas Berry Cusack ‘Alphabet’ Smith, himself no stranger to courtroom dramatics, or indeed practical jokes by those wishing to puncture his dignity.

The 19th century Four Courts had a long and proud tradition of scene-stealing lay litigants.

Always an exciting day in the Four Courts when the aptly named Mr Hassard was about!