Month: June 2023

From the Freeman’s Journal, 27 February 1858:

“Mr Gordon Cumming, the celebrated lion hunter, was brought before the magistrate at College-street police office on Tuesday last, charged by a young and interesting looking female, named Margaret Jevans, and a number of other young girls, belonging to the neighbourhood of Sandymount, with having indecently exposed himself to them and in their presence.

Mr EA Ennis appeared for the prisoner and stated that the charge preferred against his client was unfounded and called upon the bench to dismiss the complaint.

Margaret Jevans was sworn and examined.  She deposed that she is about eleven years of age; that she resides with her father, who is a smith by trade, and also follows the business of a licensed vintner.  Witness was in the habit of going every morning to the Convent School at Sandymount.  Between the hours of 10 and 11 o’clock in the forenoon of Thursday last she was going to school on the road thither the prisoner met her; he had his clothes open (The young girl here described facts not fit for publication).  Witness did not go near him, as he retreated into a corner; he then went away in the direction of Balls’s bridge; witness went to school and did not say anything of the circumstances to any one; but she heard other girls in the school speak in her hearing about what had been done to themselves by a man on the road; she also heard them describe the kind of person who had so acted; witness, on hearing these remarks, said ‘That is the man I saw.’ The other girls then brought witness to the schoolmistress, to whom she detailed and described what she herself had seen and observed.

Mr Ennis, on behalf of the prisoner, examined the witness at considerable length.  The Magistrate decided on remanding the case for further examination to Thursday. His worship consented to admit the prisoner to bail in two sureties of 50l each and in his own recognisances of 100 to appear before the bench on tomorrow to answer the charge preferred against him.

On Thursday, after the morning cases had been disposed of, Mr Stronge said that he was ready to hear evidence in the above charge.

Mr John Adye Curran, who appeared as counsel for Mr Cumming, stated that Mr Ennis had just then received a letter from Mr Gordon Cumming stating that he was so ill that he was unable to attend in court that day, but would be prepared to do so on the following day.  Under these circumstances he (Mr Curran) would ask the magistrate to postpone the further hearing of the case to one o’clock tomorrow.  No inconvenience would arise by this course being adopted, as Mr Cumming was out on bail for a large amount.

Mr Costello said, as he appeared for the prosecution, he should object to this arrangement, in consequence of information which had come to the knowledge of the police.

Mr Stronge – I cannot postpone this case, unless I am furnished with an affidavit and a medical certificate stating that Mr Cumming is so ill as not to be able to attend.

Mr Costello – What hotel is Mr Cumming stopping at?

Mr Curran – I do not know what hotel he is stopping at.  All I know is, that there is a letter in court from Mr Cumming, stating that he is ill and will be here tomorrow at one’ o clock.

It was finally decided that the case should be allowed to stand adjourned till two o’clock. At that hour the court was crowed to excess, and on the case being called on for hearing Mr Gordon Cumming did not answer to his name.

Mr Stronge called for the bail books and said that he felt it his duty to entreat the two securities.  It was very strange Mr Gordon Cumming had not appeared to answer the serious charge which had been brought against him. At the examination on Tuesday last, he only required a sufficiency of evidence to justify him in remanding the case for hearing to this day.  He would now require additional evidence before he would issue a warrant for the apprehension of Mr Cumming.

The first witness was examined by Mr Costello, an exceedingly clever child, of about twelve years of age, named Catherine Clarke.  She deposed that on Shrove Tuesday last she was in company with two other children, named Anne Mathews and Mary Ryan, on Sandymount Strand near Cranfield Baths. She saw a gentleman there but did not know him or know his name; he wore big whiskers and green plaid trousers, and had a red book in his hand.

To Mr Stronge – I saw the gentleman I met on the Strand on Shrove Tuesday two days ago in this office standing in the dock; he is the gentleman I was speaking of

The witness resumed her direct evidence – Saw the gentleman in the station house; saw the gentleman for the first time at the corner of the baths on the Strand, he did not say anything to her then, but he did at the Watery Lane, where she afterwards met him.

The witness, in reply to Mr Costello, described the offence which Mr Cumming is charged with having committed on Shrove Tuesday last on the Sandymount Strand.  There were two girls with her at the time this offence was committed, and they saw what the gentleman did as well as she did; in about a week after she met him on the strand she met him in the Watery-Lane; there was no one with her at the time except her little brother, who is about six years of age.  This lane is not near the place where she saw the gentleman for the first time; it is a public thoroughfare.   She met the gentleman when she was going to school in the morning. (Here the child described the offence which she says Mr Cumming repeated in the Watery Lane).

Anne Matthews sand Mary Ryan, two children aged respectively ten and twelve years, corroborated the testimony of Catherine Clarke, relative to the offence alleged to have been committed on the strand.

Mr Stronge said that he would grant a warrant for the apprehension of Mr Gordon Cumming, founded on the information made by the witnesses.

 A further warrant was granted by Mr Stronge in the goods of Mr Cumming, which were in the concert room of the Rotunda, where he was in the habit of giving his entertainment, to recover the sum of one hundred pounds, on which Mr Cumming was bound by his own recognizance to appear at College-Street police office, which had been forfeited by his not appearing.”

The famous Roualeyn Gordon Cumming had been appearing for several months previously at the Rotunda in his popular dramatic, tragic musical and pictorial entertainment illustrative of his adventures and exploits in South Africa.

Now, it seems, the Lion Hunter had left Ireland, never to subsequently return.

 On 15 March 1858, it was reported that an Irish constable had been in London looking for Mr Gordon Cumming, but he does not appear ever to have been subsequently apprehended, and his earlier brush with the law remains unmentioned even in the obituaries of him published in the Irish press following his death at Inverness in 1866. 

Regarding that death, according to the Kilkenny Moderator, some ten days previously he had ordered his own coffin, and prior to that he had made his will, leaving all of which he died possessed to his only daughter, a girl in her 12^th year.

Mr Gordon Cumming’s cousin Sir William Gordon Cumming, 4^th baronet, achieved far greater legal notoriety as a result of the case of Cumming v Wilson & others, arising out of the Royal Baccarat Scandal of 1891.

Did the Gordon Cumming family connections allow Roualeyn the lion-hunter to escape justice?

From the Freeman’s Journal, 14 February 1891:

“Yesterday at half-past three, in the Courthouse, Green-Street, Henry C Harvey, described as a druggist, residing in Great Brunswick Street, was placed at the bar before Mr. Justice O’Brien, and indicted for having on the 7^th of January taken away from her parents Annie Cloury, 26 Golden Lane, she being under the age of eighteen years.

Mr. Gerrard, QC, and Mr. Dodd, QC, instructed by Mr. Coll, Crown Solicitor, prosecuted.

Mr. Richard Adams, QC, instructed by Mr. Gerald Byrne, defended.

John Cloury, the father of the girl, deposed that in January he missed his daughter, and from what he heard he went to the prisoner’s lodgings in Great Brunswick Street.  The prisoner was there with another gentleman.  He asked the prisoner did he know Annie Cloury; he replied he did not, but subsequently stated he did know her, that she was all right, and that she was with Mrs. Woods.

 The witness then said, ‘Get me my child,’ and the prisoner called upon the servant to get his coat.  The witness’s wife was with him, and they accompanied the prisoner out of his lodgings, and walked along towards the college.  When near the college the prisoner rushed across the street towards College Street Police Station.  Witness followed him, and upon overtaking him said ‘Now, my man, you must get me my daughter.’  The prisoner then complained to a police constable that he was afraid of him, and he replied that he need not, and asked him to go with his wife to get the child.  He tendered the prisoner 1 shilling for a car hire. 

The prisoner was detained in the police station and witness, accompanied by his wife and a police constable, went to Mrs. Woods on the Canal, opposite Portobello Barracks.  Mrs. Woods denied that his daughter was there, and they returned to the station, where he charged the prisoner.  A few days afterwards he heard his daughter was in Clane, Kildare, and he went to Clane and brought her home from her uncle.  His daughter was under the age of 17 years.

Cross-examined by Mr. Adams – His daughter never stopped out at night until the 7^th of January.  He never made inquiries about her staying out at night in Heytesbury Street.  She had been in Messrs. Winstanley’s employment.

Mrs. Cloury corroborated her husband’s evidence.  When witness saw Harvey, she asked him where her daughter was and asked, ‘Have you murdered her?’  Have you drowned her?’  The prisoner replied that she was all right, that she was with Mrs. Woods.  On leaving the prisoner’s lodgings he said to her that he was afraid to walk with her husband.  He then walked along with the witness and stated that the girl was safe. Witness replied, ‘God forgive you, you wretch; where is my child?’  He again replied that she was all right.  The witness never knew the prisoner before, nor did she know Mrs. Woods.  She had never been away from the witness during her lifetime until Harvey took her away.

Cross-examined by Mr. Adams – Witness met her daughter on one occasion coming out of Mrs. Coghlan’s house in Heytesbury Street.  Her daughter was not then in the company of a medical student. 

The girl Annie Cloury was the next witness.  She was dressed in black, wearing her flaxen hair in waterfall fashion.  In reply to Mr. Gerrard, she stated that on the 7^th of June she was at home until half-past one o’clock.  She had been previously employed in Winstanley’s, but her mother had kept her at home from Christmas.  There was no person with her when she left home.  She went to Westland Row to meet a friend coming on the train.  Before going she met the prisoner, whom she knew before for about twelve months.  She had been doing business in a house in Grafton Street, and opposite there was a tobacconist’s shop, at the door of which the prisoner was constantly standing, and when she had to go for messages, he always followed her, and attempted to speak to her. 

This went on for about three months. One evening, when coming home a few months ago, the prisoner spoke to her.  She told him she did not want to speak to him.  He asked her name, but she did not answer him.  After that he frequently followed her.  He was in the habit of watching her. 

She never walked with him until the 7^th of January.  When he accosted her in Westland Row, he asked her how she was; she replied, ‘Very well.’  He then asked her to have a glass of wine, and she went with him into McGauran’s public house at the corner of Westland Row, where she took a glass of port wine, and he took some whiskey.  He asked her to take a second glass, but she declined but took a half glass of port wine.

 They then left, and he asked her to meet him in half an hour’s time at Earlsfort Terrace.  He said he had something very particular to tell her.  She asked him what he had to say to her, and he asked her to go to Mrs. Woods.  She declined, as she said she did not know her very well, having only met her twice before.  He pressed her to go to Mrs. Woods, Portobello Road, and she did so, driving there on an outside car.  When in the house she met Mrs. Woods, and the prisoner, when in the house, produced a bottle of whiskey.  Witness refused to take it, and the prisoner sent for port wine, and she took half a glass of it. 

She remained at Woods’ for about two hours, and while the witness had her back to the table, Mrs. Woods handed her a glass of port wine.  There was a little child by her side, and she was going to give the child a sip out of the glass when Mrs. Woods sprang up from her seat, saying’ My God, don’t give her that.’  Witness then tasted the wine, and turning to the prisoner, said ‘Taste that, that is not port wine.’ It was very bitter.  The prisoner tasted it, and said, Yes, it is port wine, drink it off.’  She replied that it was too strong, and he said, Nonsense, drink it, Port wine is never strong.’  She drank it and became dizzy.  When leaving Woods’ she staggered against the hall-door, and the prisoner asked her to take his arm. 

The next thing she remembered was leaving in a cab with the prisoner. She recollected nothing until the next morning, when she found herself in bed with the prisoner in a strange bedroom.  The witness was partly undressed.  When she awoke, she said ‘Oh, where am I?’ He said ‘Hush, you are all right.’ The witness further stated that on leaving the hotel in the morning she found that she was in Marlborough Street.  She went that day to Clane to her uncle’s, the prisoner having given her 4s to buy sweets.

Cross-examined by Mr. Adams – She had gone two or three times to the prisoner’s lodgings to pay him visits, as he had asked her to do so.  She knew Mr. Carty, a medical student who resided with the prisoner.  She had met Carty four or five times.  She did not walk with him.  He had purchased her a necktie. 

Mr. Adams – Did you give a false name when you went to visit the prisoner?  No.

You knew he was a medical student?  Yes.

Did your parents catch you coming out of a house in Heytesbury Street with Mr. Carty? No.

How did you know Mr. Carty?  I met him with Mr. Harvey. 

Did you write a letter to Harvey the day after you were in Marlborough Street?  (No answer)

Mr. Adams (reading) – ‘My dear Harry…’   Is that Mr. Harvey the prisoner?  (The witness here began to cry, and did not answer)

Mr. Justice O’Brien – I presume it is.

Mr. Adams – (Reading) –

‘I arrived here all right, but I got the wrong train at Kingsbridge, so that I had to give 2s 6d for a car to Clane.  I hope your feet are all right, and that nothing was suspected of your staying out all night… Say you did not see me.  Don’t forget the gloves, also my brooch which I left in Marlborough Street.  Dear Harry, I did not sleep all night thinking of what I could do.  I send you my love, and remain as ever yours, Annie CLOURY’

Mr. Adams – Then the letter winds up with about 10 crosses, representing kisses (laughter).

Mr. Justice O’Brien – Do you mean they are symbols of kisses?

Mr. Adams – Yes; at least I believe they are (laughter).

Mr. Justice O’Brien – Well, a man is always learning something in this world (laughter).

Mr. Adams – The postscript to the letter is ‘Write soon and direct to Miss A Cloury.’

[several portions of the letter were unfit for publication]

The witness admitted that she wrote the letter, and as to certain phrases in it she denied that she knew what they meant.

In further cross-examination she admitted that she got a boa from a friend of Mr. Harvey’s whom she had met.  She denied that she had taken drinks and dined with persons named in restaurants.  She had taken a ring from the defendant which he had given to her.

Mary Flynn, a housemaid in the Temperance Hotel, Marlborough Street, proved that the prisoner and the girl Cloury passed as man and wife in the hotel; the girl’s hair was not ‘flowing’ but ‘got up’ like a married woman; she did not seem to be suffering from drugs or drink, and was in no way put about.”

Thus ended the first day of the trial.  The second and final day was reported in the Kilkenny Moderator, 18 February 1891, in the following terms:

“THE DUBLIN ABDUCTION CASE

The court was thronged to suffocation before the judge arrived, and the atmosphere within the building during the day was most offensive.  The vast majority of those present appeared mere idlers, who were evidently distracted by the filthy and immoral nature of such a case.  Strange to say, the audience included a number of young lads and about a score of females, some of them mere children, who were allowed to remain throughout the hearing of one of the most demoralizing cases which have occupied the attention of any criminal court in Ireland for several years past. 

The evidence and the speeches of counsel on both sides having concluded, the prisoner was found guilty.  The foreman of the jury said they had added the following rider to their verdict –

 “Having looked into the matter carefully, we beg to recommend the matter carefully to the clemency of the court, believing there were extenuating circumstances.  The jury wish to mention that they consider that the want of care on the part of parents in not taking steps, according to their responsibility, to clearly understand how their daughters are spending their evenings, is the cause of a great number of such cases as this, and that they are not doing their duty to their children by not inquiring who their acquaintances are.’ 

The prisoner was sentenced to twelve months’ imprisonment with hard labour.”

From the Cork Examiner, 6 April 1908, this loving tribute to one of the Irish Bar’s most famous humorists, Limerick County Court Judge Richard Adams:

“Those who knew the late Judge Adams well will find it hardest to believe that he is dead.  For with his personality, they associate all that was brightest and most vivifying in life.  What is chiefly to be written of Judge Adams is matter which from the richness of his genius – and he was a genius endowed with one of the rarest forms of genius – amused his fellow men.   Even in this hour, when all who knew him are keenly realizing the extent of the gap created by his death, men’s thoughts go back to the various incidents in his career, the telling of which have brightened their own lives, and if, in this appreciation, some items creep in which prompt smiles, it will be admitted that they come most naturally out of the inheritance which he has left behind.

Judge Adams was a native of Castletownbere, Berehaven, County Cork, where he was born some sixty-five years ago. He was fond of referring to himself jocosely as a member of the ‘Bantry Bay Band’ and used to tell at least one story of his return to his native town after many years.  When visiting there in the heyday of his career at the Bar, he asked his car driver was not there a fellow of the name of Dick Adams born in these parts.  The driver replied that there was and drove him around and showed him the house where this ‘fellow’ was born.  ‘And who is this Dick Adams?’ queried the big and bearded unknown.  ‘Begor, I’m not rightly sure,’ said the jarvey, ‘But I’m told he is a decent attorney in Dublin.’ 

The future judge does not appear to have greatly distinguished himself in his early days.  He took a course of studies at Queen’s College, Cork, but his first professional calling was that of a bank clerk in the National Bank in Cork.  It can be readily conceived that the routine of office work did not quite fit the temperament of this really original genius, and, according to him, his career in the bank was brief and not particularly glorious. He would himself tell how he was entrusted with the duty of opening letters containing bank notes in separate halves, a favourite way of sending money in those days, and then gumming the two halves together.  But his lack of acumen for bank business was such that he frequently gummed the wrong halves together – a terrible misadventure in any well-organized bank. 

Having regard to this and a general unsuitability for bank life, Richard Adams decided that he had mistaken his vocation. Accordingly, he left the bank and joined the ranks of that more Bohemian profession, the Press.  His future career was divided between the Press and the Bar, and it may fairly be said that he adorned each sphere in a manner that was unique.  He was for a period on the Editorial Staff of the Cork Examiner and subsequently joined the staff of the Freeman’s Journal as leader writer.   While on the staff of the Freeman he, as many other journalists before and after him have done, got called to the Bar.  This event took place in Hilary term of 1873.  

To aid him in his profession he had the advantage of a striking presence, a wonderfully ready flow of language, copious wit and abundance of self-possession, which had been gained by a previous informal career as a social raconteur.   In the eighties his impressive presence was well known in Cork Courthouse and in the Four Courts in Dublin. The fame of his wit and humour invariably drew large audiences, and to Richard Adams may be paid the unique tribute that even jurors heard with pleasure the cases in which he was engaged. 

Once in Cork Courthouse he was engaged, with another eminent counsel, in defending in a murder trial.  The late Mr. Justice William O’Brien was the judge.  The case was a particularly ticklish one, requiring all the art of the advocate and the subtlety of move of the practiced court hand.  During the adjournment, Adams met in the corridors of the Court the judge’s crier, a well-known functionary who was supposed to have the ear of the judge in a way that few court criers have.  This worthy approached Adams with an air that was brimful of mysterious significance and whispered ‘Mr. Adams, don’t call any witnesses, mind now.’  Adams, knowing the relations of the judge and the crier, accepted this as a friendly hint as to the judge’s view.  Accordingly, he decided not to call any witnesses, and closed the case with a brilliant speech.

To his dismay, however, Mr. Justice O’Brien commenced his charge by at once referring to the significant omission of the defence to call a witness who might have thrown light on the case and harped perpetually on the omission all through his charge.  ‘You’ve hanged our man, Richard,’ exclaimed his colleague, throwing up his hands.  But when the case was over, Adams took occasion to seek out the crier, and ask him why he had told him not to call any witnesses.  ‘Because, Mr. Adams’ solemnly affirmed that functionary, ‘I very much dislike perjury.’

Prior the date of his appointment as Queen’s Counsel, Adams enjoyed a very large practice at the Junior Bar.  In actions for breach of promise of marriage his services were particularly sought, and it was one of the treats of the Four Courts to hear a speech on that congenial topic from one who was a master of humorous exposition.  His admission to the ranks of the Inner Bar was soon followed by his elevation to the Bench as County Court Judge of Limerick, and in that position, we have of late come to regard him as quite an institution. 

While not a profound lawyer, he was fortified by a splendid store of common sense – a better commodity for the community at large than intricacies and meshes of law – and his decisions were rarely disturbed by superior tribunals.  He did not himself at all mind jesting on the subject of his legal knowledge – indeed what subject did he not jest upon – and would tell how once he came into one of the Dublin Courts after the luncheon interval and heard a well-known solicitor proclaiming from the solicitors’ table to a cluster of minor lights ‘Adams! Oh, he has a fine nisi prius prescendi, but he knows absolutely no law,’ whereupon Adams himself put his genial countenance over the side barrier and said, ‘Look here, that’s slander of me in my business trade and profession, and it is actionable without proof of special damage, so look out for a writ.’  This was of course said with glorious good humour.

However, he possessed plenty of legal knowledge, and better than that, he had rare intelligence and good judgment in the application of his knowledge.  The public have been vastly entertained and amused by the dialogues reported from the County Court of Limerick.  Most of all were we convulsed by the memorable case in which a man sued for the loss of his whiskers, cut off in malice aforethought by a mischievous neighbour.  This was a case that Judge Adams look simply to his heart of hearts, and the proceedings in court were a perfect classic for humour. 

Then when he ‘held a court in a ditch’ as the newspapers phrased it, the scene was retailed not only in England and Ireland, but in various countries beyond the seas.  He himself referred to the incident in a very humorous way at a dinner given in his honour in Limerick for the solicitors’ profession:

 ‘Some time ago… I had occasion to adjourn a case and intimate that I would go out and see a boundary in dispute on the following Sunday.  I went there and saw the plaintiff and defendant and some more of the boys, and I sat on a stile and had a few words with them all.  But what was my surprise when the next day I saw in the papers – ‘Extraordinary scene in Limerick: Judge Adams holds a court on a boundary fence.’  The climax came when I got enclosed to me in a wrapper that had no stamp an Australian paper with a cartoon representing a villainous looking ruffian with a caubeen on his death and a dhudeen struck across it sitting straddle- legged on a country bank with a scowl on his face and addressing a crowd of ragamuffins with underneath it the inscription ‘How Justice is Administered in Ireland.’’

Judge Adams also loved to go to health resorts on the continent.  These sojourns were rendered doubly enjoyable by reason of his exceptional attainments as a linguist.  We all presumably have heard of the story which he himself told so well on the subject of his resemblance to the present King.  ‘When in Homburg,’ he said, ‘the King’s Equerry came up to me and said ‘Mr. Adams, the King commands me to ask you as a personal favour not to be going about in a tall hat and frock coat.  It is very embarrassing for his Majesty to be so often whacked on the back, and to be shouted at by gentlemen in Dublin accents, ‘Hello Dick, old man, how are all the boys in Dublin?’’

The last time the writer of this article met Richard Adams was in Dublin a year or two ago.  He said he was hankering after his old native county, Cork.  ‘I’ve been to every capital in Europe,’ he said emphatically, ‘and I’ve come to the conclusion that Cork city is simply the loveliest of them all.  I’d like to end my days there – in one of those nice houses down by the river, by Tivoli or Dunkettle.’

Alas! To hosts of friends and thousands of admirers of his brilliant, genial humour, the thought that that peaceful ideal cannot now be realized will occasion the deepest sadness. His unique gifts were a national asset, they gave lightness and spice to routine that is usually dreary, and colour to what is often dull.  To have produced such things in life was a big achievement, and there will be universal grief that the rich, sparkling spring is now dried up forever.”

The story of Judge Adams, his resemblance to King Edward VII and the royal command received by him at Homburg had been circulating in the media for many years.  Indeed, on the occasion of King Edward’s visit to Ireland in 1903, the Dublin Daily Express reported gleefully that Judge Adams was out of the country, otherwise there might have been some amusing complications, as the judge was the King’s double.  

The same article did however suggest, tongue-in-cheek, that perhaps Judge Adams might have been a stand-in for the King on his famous – and most uncharacteristic – expedition to the slums of Dublin during that visit. 

Who knows?