Month: December 2021

Irish Barrister Beheaded on Banks of Bosphorus, c.1825

Aivazovsky, View of Constantinople and the Bosphorus,1856, via Wikimedia Commons

From the Irish Independent, 17 June 1909:

“A SOCIAL BUTTERFLY

In the early years of the nineteenth century one of the most popular favourites in Dublin Society was a barrister named William Norcott, whose identity is discreetly veiled under the initial ’N—-‘ by several chroniclers of the period.  He was the life and soul of every party; his wit was keenly relished, and his satirical powers enjoyed by all but the victims whose peculiarities were so readily hit off.  As a punster, he was the equal of Lord Norbury, as a mimic unrivalled.  He was in great requests at all fashionable functions, and was supposed to possess considerable means.  He had splendid prospects at the Irish Bar, where his possibilities of practice were very great, if he cared to avail himself of his opportunities, and it was generally thought that his inability to trouble himself in this manner was due to his possession of large wealth.

Cruikshank, An Evening Party, via Wikipedia

SINISTER RUMOURS

His own bachelor entertainments were on a very magnificent scale, and he simply drove all competitors out of the field, until rumours of Norcott’s reckless gambling and doubtful methods of play became current.  That he was an inveterate card-player was common knowledge, but as most of his associates were tarred with the same brush, no special obloquy was attached to that charge.  But it was pretty broadly hinted that Norcott was in serious difficulties, that, in fact he was ‘without a sou’ and was obliged to resort to various shady expedients to continue the pace.  As soon as the fact of his being ‘broke’ became established, he speedily found himself shunned. As one who knew him declared ‘his best puns began to pass without notice, his mimicry excited no laughter, and his most high-flown compliments scarcely received a curtesy.’

AN ESCAPE

He was, according to a contemporary, meditating suicide with one of his duelling pistols, when it occurred to him that one of his college companions, John Wilson Croker, had secured a high position at the Admiralty in London, and might be disposed to provide him with a distant sinecure in which he could continue to indulge his now irresistible passion for gambling.  Accordingly, he obtained a lucrative position in Malta, and left Dublin with the hope that when he had made or married a fortune he would return to the scene of his early triumphs to dazzle and delight once more the worshippers of wealth and success.

View of Malta Harbour, 1828, via Mutual Art

THE EAST

It was in or about 1815 when Norcott left Malta.  He had hardly landed when he recommenced his old life, playing cars for his stakes and spending freely.  The same rumours and suspicions which had enveloped him in Dublin soon began to gather round him in Malta, and finally even that station became too hot to hold him.  He was accused, rightly or wrongly, of various irregularities, and finally fled to Constantinople, where he joined the army of outcasts of all nationalities who congregated in the city on the Bosphorus.  In a comparatively short time he was reduced to absolute poverty, and was finally compelled to sell rhubarb and opium in the streets of Smyrna for a bare subsistence.

The cemetery where Dr Walsh met William Norcott, as depicted by Thomas Allom in an illustration accompanying a book later published by Walsh on Constantinople, via Antique Prints

STRANGE MEETING

Some years passed, and one evening the Rev Dr Robert Walsh, the chaplain to the British Embassy in Constantinople, chanced to visit one of the cemeteries of the city of the Golden Horn.  His attention was caught by the appearance of a man, evidently a European, who was dressed in a tattered white costume and wore a ragged turban.  Speaking in English, the stranger begged him for assistance, as he was absolutely destitute and serving.  He had hardly spoken when Dr Walsh, who was also a graduate of Trinity College, exclaimed ‘Gracious… can it be?’ when the unhappy outcast proceeded to say ‘Alas, it is too true, I am Mr Norcott, of the Irish Bar.‘

THE END

Norcott, in his desperate poverty, had formally abjured Christianity, and hoped to obtain some alleviation of his sufferings, which eventually led to his tragic end.  Some Englishmen having befriended him, he determined to return to Christianity and to escape from Turkey.  His purpose was discovered and he was pursued by the Sultan’s myrmidons.  Being captured a few miles away from the capital, he was instantly decapitated, and his body thrown into the Bosphorus.  Truly, times are changed.’

DJ O’DONOGHUE.”

Officer of the Janissaries, by Thomas Charles Wageman, via Fine Art America

Poor Mr Norcott! The above may have been the last sight he ever saw.

Alas, the only other documentary trace of Mr Norcott lies in this 1810 advertisement for the sale of his law books, presumably placed before he left Dublin for Malta.

Times change indeed – the concept of ‘turn on, tune in, drop out’ being still some way away even in 1909. Perhaps Mr Norcott’s life might now be viewed as a journey of self-discovery?

Not Putting a Ring on it, 1937

From the Irish Examiner, 26 November 1937:

“JUDGE AND A RING

AMUSING CASE AT WEXFORD CIRCUIT COURT

QUESTIONS TO WITNESS

At Wexford Circuit Court, before Judge Comyn KC, William McC, Wexford, appealed against the decision of the District Court Justice at Wexford, sentencing him to a month’s imprisonment on a charge of larceny by finding of a gold ring the property of Mrs K Delaney, Gardiner’s Row, Dublin.

Mrs Delaney swore that on August 22nd, 1937, she was playing golf at the Rosslare Links and lost her ring.  Some time after she returned to Dublin a Civic Guard called with a ring which she understood was her ring.  It fitted her but she had no proof that the ring was hers.  She believed it was her ring.

When the witness gave this evidence late on Tuesday night the ring was not in court, and when the case was taken up in the morning she was not present.  Mr Kelly, State Solicitor, said that as Mrs Delaney had not gone so far as to identify the ring, the State could not prove ownership, and they could not go on with the case.

The Judge – Apparently she has been thinking about it and she thought perhaps she had sworn too much.  There was no blame to be attached to her.

Mr Kelly said nothing remained except for him to present the ring to Mr Esmonde, TD, who appeared for William McC.

Mr Esmonde said the State had adopted a wise and proper course in withdrawing the case.  The defendant had an absolute and perfect defence to the charge, and had brought from England a girl who had given him the ring.  She was not present in the District Court.

Mr Esmonde applied for the return of the ring to the defendant.  The State solicitor had no objection, he understood.

The Judge – I would like to see the lady that gave a wedding ring to a man (laughter).

GIRL’S EVIDENCE

Miss Bessie M was sworn and stated that she is employed in England and had been brought over for this case.  The ring belonged to her mother who is dead.  She was wearing the ring when home at her aunt’s last year, and she gave it to William McC, the defendant.  Rumours got about that she was married and she was showing him the ring and he took it from her finger and kept it.  She was 21 years of age.  She had been at service in Dublin and Waterford before she went to England.

William McC was sworn and said Bessie M gave him the ring at Lady’s Island.

The Judge – Was there any witness of the ceremony? (laughter)

Witness said he was 26 years of age.

The Judge – Have you any notion of getting married?

Witness – No, sir.

What do you mean by walking out with a girl of 21 if you don’t intend to marry her?

Witness – I don’t know.

Of course I don’t want you to commit yourself if you don’t know what you meant (laughter).  Did she ever ask you what were your intentions?

Witness – No.

JUDGE’S COMMENTS

Do you think she was moving towards that when the matter of the ring came up? (laughter).  You must have been slow about giving her a ring when she gave you one (laughter).  How did the Guards discover you had the ring?

Witness – I gave it to another girl in Rosslare.

You got it from Miss M and gave it to another girl.  Are you married yet?

Witness – No sir.

You had great adventures as a bachelor, getting a wedding ring from a fine little girl of 21 because you were too slow about a proposal, and you gave it to another girl you are not married to (laughter) What do you say to that?

Witness – I don’t know what to say?

Well, Mr Esmonde has conducted your case with great courage and success, and you have got free from going to jail, but don’t you think you have great courage to come here and claim the ring?

Witness – I don’t know.

I think I would stick to Miss Murphy if I were you and make a proposal.  I think I will give you back the ring; it just fits her finger (laughter).

Later in the evening the judge said he would not give defendant the ring because he did not seem to be able to make proper use of it (laughter).  He directed that it be sent to Mrs Delaney in Dublin.“

Technically speaking, Mr Esmonde was quite right – his client should have got the ring back! Did Judge Comyn decide not to give it back because of doubts about Bessie M’s story – or because he believed her story, felt sorry for her, and wasn’t going to give her mother’s ring back to Mr McC to be passed onto to another girl? Possibly the former – because otherwise why not just give it back to Bessie M herself?

As you can see from the above story, many judges enjoy putting their former cross-examination skills to use on witnesses! The advocacy skills of the Comyn family were unsurpassed – the legal careers of Judge Comyn and his nephew James, yet another Irishman who became an English High Court Judge, make fascinating reading!

A She-Judge, 1830

From the Dublin Morning Register, 5 May 1830:

“COURT OF KING’S BENCH – (A SHE-JUDGE)

At half-past nine o’clock yesterday morning, one of the Court-Keepers’ maids, a plump, arch-looking girl, entered the Court, and ascended the Bench to arrange their Lordships’ inkstands, cushions etc. Having completed all matters of judicial accommodation, she sat down very gravely in the seat usually occupied by Judge Jebb.

A Reporter, who generally labors under the influence of a couple of glasses (spectacles), while mending his pen, threw a glance at the Bench and asked if her Lordship would go into law arguments today.

Her Lordship, gravely – “Not until my brother Judges come into court; they will be here presently, as I just left one of them dressing.”

Reporter – My Lord, will the Court hear motions today.

Her Lordship – I will hear motions in chamber only, here I will also try applications to make conditional rules absolute.

Her Lordship was in the act of leaving the Bench, when the Reporter asked if he would attend her Lordship in Chamber.

Her Lordship, with great quickness and gravity, replied:

‘Before entering into arguments in Chamber, I must first sit in error.”

Her Lordship then retired.“

So many double entendres in this piece – and so much interesting information about 19th century court procedure.

A judge’s chambers were rooms off the court where the judge dressed and undressed, and retired between cases. ‘Dressing’ meant putting on and off legal robes, bands and wigs.

Motions were (and are) applications heard on affidavit to deal with procedural matters such as delivery of pleadings and discovery of documentation, which come up in the course of preparing a case for trial.

Chamber motions referred to applications heard in the judge’s chambers rather than in open court. They were applications requiring no argument, calculated for the dispatch of business, and the indulgence of the suitor in cases of not too special or difficult of nature, which, if not heard in chamber, might never, or not for a long time be heard.

The Irish Rules of Court still provide for some chamber motions today – an example would be Order 20 of the Circuit Court Rules which allows applications in chambers for the production of deeds or the sale of any goods or merchandise the subject of court proceedings of a perishable nature, and therefore desirable to be sold at once.

Motions in error were motions to set aside orders of a court which had been made in error. Unlike chamber motions, motions in error were heard in open court.

The story illustrates the presence of women in the 19th century Four Courts. Although the idea of a woman lawyer, never mind a woman judge, was as yet fantastical, and 19th century Irish ladies, unlike their English counterparts, were not inclined to attend legal proceedings for mere entertainment, there were nonetheless women housekeepers, court-keepers, currant bun and newspaper sellers within the Round Hall, a strong female contingent engaged in the process of transporting barristers’ bags, and even the occasional female lay litigant!

Amazing to think that the interchange above took place where Court 1 is today. The High Court which replaced the old courts of King’s Bench, Common Pleas, Chancery and Exchequer now has many women judges and counting and a President of the same gender sitting just across the Round Hall in Court 4.

Judges still have chambers and sit on the bench but inkstands are no longer present – not sure about cushions! Times change but legal benches can still be hard on the posterior! Perhaps the girl above was sitting in the judge’s seat to test the quality of the cushions?!

I hope she did not get into trouble as a result of this story!

Image Credit

A Barrister’s Account of the Easter Rising, 1916

Sackville Street, Dublin, following the Rising, via Warwick Digital Collections

From the Northern Whig, 10 May 1916:

“Mr Fred H Mullan, solicitor, Trevor Hill, Newry, has just received a very interesting account from Mr John Cusack, BL, of the Easter Rising in Dublin. Mr Cusack states:-

About 12.30 p.m. on Monday I received a telephone message at my house that the Sinn Feiners had seized Stephen’s Green. I walked there, and found the rebels in possession. They had barricaded the gates with garden seats and pieces of wood, and armed sentries were walking up and down inside, while the rest were digging trenches.

On Tuesday morning early I called to see the Attorney-General, whose election was being held that day, and found at his home the Solicitor-General, who had passed the night at the Castle. As he was returning there in his motor I went with him to the Castle. The Upper Castle Yard was most unhealthy, as the rebels were still sniping.

The entrance to the Upper Castle Yard, Dublin Castle, via Warwick Digital Collections

I soon left , and made my way to Sackville Street, where I found Judge Orr coolly watching the performance. I then went to the Club in Stephen’s Green North on the invitation of a member. We stayed there some time watching a military machine gun operating on the rebels in the Green from the top of the Shelbourne Hotel, and noting the effect of the returned fire on the rebels. In the coachhouse at the back of my house the father of the anatomy porter of the Royal College of Surgeons resides, and from this porter I learned that in the College they had captured a quantity of rifles and ammunition, and they even barricaded the windows with the dead bodies which were in the College for anatomy purposes, which they removed from the tanks.

The Royal College of Surgeons, St Stephen’s Green, Dublin, via Warwick Digital Collections

On Wednesday the Sherwood Foresters came marching in the broiling sun in close order from Kingstown. Nothing occurred till they reached immediately opposite my house, when they were suddenly taken unawares by a fierce fire. The officers, now recognising what they had to meet, caused the neighbourhood to be searched. With rebels sniping all round us, the military entered my home during the search. Luckily some official papers were lying on my desk with a couple of large envelopes, endorsed OHMS and Chief Crown Solicitors’ Department, Dublin Castle, and thus my respectability was vouched for, and the search proceeded no further.”

Mr Cusack, originally from Newry, lived at 9 Waterloo Road, Ballsbridge. He was a barrister with a large practice on the North-East Circuit who had been appointed counsel to the Attorney-General James Campbell earlier that year. He had also acted as counsel to the previous Attorney-General, now Mr Justice Gordon. Shortly after the Rising, he became a KC, and was later appointed County Court Judge for Kerry. He resigned in 1924 and went to live in England, where he was elected Lord Mayor of Twickenham in 1929.

Judge Cusack, as depicted in the Larne Times, 17 April 1920, via British Newspaper Archives

Judge Cusack passed away at his home in Middlesex in 1940 while reading a newspaper. His own newspaper account of 1916, however, omits two interesting matters.

Firstly, while all the above events were happening, he and his wife Dora had a newborn son in the house. This son, born in mid-April 1916, later went on to become Sir Ralph Vincent Cusack, Judge of the High Court of England and Wales. Another son, Jake, was Minister of the Interior of Kenya during the Mau-Mau period.

Secondly, Judge Cusack appears to have neglected his duty as counsel to the Attorney-General in one vitally important respect – namely, that of ensuring that the Chief Law Officer for Ireland had enough ready cash to keep going until normal financial business resumed. By the following week, the Dublin Correspondent of the Daily Telegraph was gleefully reporting that

“[t]he deepest tragedy in Ireland in Ireland is always touched with tragedy, and everybody has a rebellion joke to tell. The joke of Dublin Castle is that the Attorney General and Solicitor General Mr JH Campbell [later Lord Chief Justice and Lord Chancellor of Ireland] and Mr James O’Connor [later Sir James O’Connor, Judge of the Supreme Court of Judicature in Ireland] were besieged for nearly a week, and as no banks were open during the Rebellion they had to raise a loan in cash from a journalistic friend. The idea of an Irish journalist being in a position to finance an Attorney General has vastly entertained Dublin in the midst of its woes.“

The Attorney-General’s pocket was not the only element of the Irish legal system to be turned inside out by the 1916 Rebellion! Lots more small (and large) change to come!

The Misfortunes of Judge Linehan’s Criers, 1913-29

The Old Courthouse, Dungannon, where Mr Ree was locked in in 1913, via Wikimedia Commons.

From the Mid-Ulster Mail, 7 June 1913:

“Mr Robert Ree, County Court Judge Linehan’s crier, met with an unfortunate accident in Dungannon on the afternoon of the 4th.  It seems that the business of the quarter sessions was adjourned early in the afternoon, and the officials hurried off to the Dungannon Agricultural Show, with the result that Mr Ree, after settling up the judge’s papers, found that he was locked inside the courthouse.  There is no interior connection with the caretaker’s apartments beneath the courthouse, but he attracted the attention of passer’s -by, and a ladder was brought and placed against one of the upper windows.  Unfortunately, Mr Ree turned to close the window before descending the ladder, with the result that he overbalanced and fell into the area.  He was promptly removed to the Northland Arms Hotel, and was attended to by Surgeon Marmion, JP.  It was found that his face was much cut and bruised, but fortunately he had escaped more serious injury.”

No better luck attended the judge’s replacement crier, Mr Edward Murphy, who was unfortunate enough to meet his death in Dublin during the Easter Rising of 1916. According to the Mid-Ulster Mail of 13 May 1916, Mr Murphy had been passing through St Stephen’s Green on Easter Tuesday, 9th May, when, opposite the Unionist Club, he waved his hand in salute to an acquaintance at a window.  He was immediately fired at by a rebel sniper and killed.

The Stephen’s Green Hibernian Club, formerly the Unionist Club, Stephen’s Green, Dublin, opposite which Mr Murphy met his death in the Rising of 1916, via Google Maps

On the 10th June, Judge Linehan, in addressing the Tyrone Grand Jury, expressed his satisfaction that the county had been free from the dreadful occurrences which had marked many parts of the country. He referred to the valuable lives lost during Easter Week and particularly that of Mr Murphy, stating that he felt his loss deeply and tendered his sincere sympathy to his widow and family.

Judge Linehan’s next court crier, Robert Fyffe, survived until 1929.  Announcing his death at the Dungannon Quarter Sessions, Judge Linehan said that Mr Fyffe had been with him for a great number of years, and had even made an effort to come with him to Dungannon, but had been too unwell to do so.  He was sure that the court would join with him in deploring his death and sending sympathy to his daughters.

Tyrone County Court Judge Linehan KC

Judge Linehan himself died in 1935. Tributes at Castlederg Petty Sessions Court following his death described him as one of the most courteous, efficient, and conscientious judges that had ever presided at a court in County Tyrone.  Mr VP McMullin, solicitor, on behalf of the legal profession praised his wonderful courtesy and assistance and said that as an advocate at the Bar he had had a brilliant career, but his brilliancy at the bar was easily outshone by his brilliancy on the bench. 

An obituary in the Portadown Times described Judge Linehan as a native of Cork who practised in Dublin, acted as a judge in Northern Ireland, and lived in England,  noting that although almost all the old County Court judges in the Irish Free State had been dismissed, most of the current Northern Irish Bench had been appointed prior to 1919. The obituary drew attention to the fact that, like a number of other members of the bench, Judge Linehan had commenced his career as a newspaper reporter and said that there was no doubt that his early journalistic experience had given him a wide insight into human nature which he had turned into account as a judge.

All Irish judges survived the 1916 Rising, although there were concerns at one point that Mr Justice Barton might have been detained by rebels in the Four Courts, and Mr Justice Johnson’s house in Lansdowne Road was occupied by rebel troops.

The most famous legal deceased of 1916 was of course Patrick Pearse, leader of the Rising, described alternately as ‘a nominal barrister’ and ‘a barrister without briefs’ in contemporaneous accounts. The legal profession, it seemed, was somewhat anxious to disassociate itself from him – and indeed from any of its other members who had participated in the Rising – described by one newspaper as ‘Sinn Fein ornaments.’ Now Pearse’s image hangs proudly a stone’s throw from the Law Library in the Four Courts. Times change!

Tragedy and disapproval aside, the Irish legal profession appeared to have enjoyed the drama of the Rising with gripping accounts by John Cusack BL and solicitor James D Caruth appearing in the press. The restrictions on movement imposed by both sides led to some interesting interaction between certain senior lawyers – not used to being in a position of being ordered about – and both Rebel and British troops.  More to come!