HUMOUR IN THE LAW COURTS

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 588, 14 February 1929, Page 8

HUMOUR IN THE LAW COURTS

IF there is one thing that turns a constant spectator’s mind from the searing miseries and tragedies of New Zealand courts, it is the wit that is often heard within the gloomy walls. Humour, an inherited tradition from the English Bar, is singularly out of place in courts, and probably it gains force through incongruity. There have been laughs at murder trials, and even though one man at least, had no laugh in him, relief was given to the tension felt by others. Frequently the spectators’ gallery rocks at a sally from a barrister, and there are times when a wittily turned phrase brings a smile of judicial commendation. Even judges themselves, tired of solemnity, have been known to engage in pleasant bantering. The concentrated wretchedness of the criminal courts, and the dullness of the civil, make occasional relief a necessity. Judicial humour is not generally appreciated to the same extent as that of lawyers, and there is not the same scope for it, anyway. To be witty, a victim is needed more often than not, and it is scarcely part of the judicial function to show even the most urbane partiality. Sometimes judicial jesting is not in the best of taste, as is shown by a Scottish anecdote. A judge once had to pass the death sentence on a man with whom he had often played chess. The solemn words were chanted, and then he added, as clever after-thought: “and that, Davy, is checkmate to me.” The New Zealand Bar has had its humorists, and that the line is not extinct is shown by the address that a counsel gave in the Supreme Court yesterday on behalf of a man being sentenced for highway robbery. By the simple process of cloaking dangerous facts with ridicule, he was able to wifi the sympathy of all persons in the court. This, of course, is an effective method. But quite frequently there are lawyers who seem to consider that an elegant bon mot is sufficient return for the fee of the person who has retained their services. The old style of solid forensic argument with bludgeoning logic is not so highly thought of as it was. and yet the men who used it had massive minds. This trend, of course, is one that litigants and felons have most cause to regret, but even they cannot make curmudgeonly demands for unrelieved solemnity. Probably the most picturesque humorist practising at the New Zealand Bar during this generation was the late Mr. Justice Alpers. His addresses to the jury, always elegantly turned and masterful, were full of charming urbanity, never allowed to go unrelieved by wit for very long. Pacing the court room, he would gaze at the jury through his monocle, and suddenly flick it from his eye. Then lie would talk brilliantly at them. A juryman once said, after one of the Alpers addresses: “Well, I feel that I should have paid amusement tax for that.” But all lawyers are not as cleverly entertaining as Mr. Alpers was. Court humour is a relief, and as such is welcome and admirable, but it is doubtful whether it should be the basis of any piece of advocacy.