Was it murder? Trial of Lord Santry.

**

James Roderick O’Flanagan**

(1814- )

James Roderick O’Flanagan was born in Fermoy, Sept. 1, 1814, and was educated there. After a lengthened tour on the Continent he published his first work, ‘Impressions at Home and Abroad,’ 1837. In the following year he began practicing as a barrister.

In 1845 Mr. O’Flanagan began contributing a series of articles to *The Dublin University Magazine *on ‘Irish Rivers.’ For several years he was a constant writer in various leading Irish periodicals, and was editor of *The Irish National Magazine. *In 1861 ‘The History of Dundalk’ appeared, written in conjunction with the late John D’Alton. ‘The Bar Life of O’Connell,’ published in 1566, was well received by the public; the author wrote from personal knowledge of his subject, and his narrative thus possesses a strong and living interest.

A sporting novel, ‘Brian O’Ryan,’ was his next work. followed by his most valuable contribution to Irish literature, ‘The Lives of the Lord Chancellors of Ireland’ (1870). These volumes embrace a period extending from the reign of Henry III. to the reign of Queen Victoria. Mr. O’Flanagan’s later work, ‘The Irish Bar’ (1878-9), is written in a bright, lively style, and shows no falling off either in the author’s memory or in his powers of graphic description. ‘The Munster Circuit’ (1880) was favorably reviewed in *The Times; *he also prepared a work entitled ‘Anecdotes and Sketches of Prelates and Priests of Every Denomination.’

Tried By His Peers

From ‘The Irish Bar.’

In the year 1738 a* *wild young nobleman, Lord Santry, with other young men of good family but disreputable conduct, were drinking at a rural tavern in the village of Palmerston, a few miles from Dublin. It was a fair day, and many persons were in and out of this tavern. Lord Santry had reached that stage of inebriety when good-humor ceases and a disposition to grow quarrelsome prevails. He had taken the “cross drop,” and his companions, being indisposed to tolerate his ill-humor, dropped off one by one.

Lord Santry then expended his wrath upon a man named Humphreys, and, as it was the custom for gentlemen at this time to wear rapiers, he proceeded to unsheath his rapier; but it stuck fast in the scabbard, and, happily for Humphreys, his lordship failed in his efforts to draw.

In a violent rage at this circumstance, Lord Santry left the room, and proceeded along a passage leading to the kitchen. While here he unfortunately met a man named Laughlin Murphy, who was usually employed as pot-boy and messenger. Finding Murphy in his way, Lord Santry gave him a push, and swore that “he would kill him if he spoke a word.”

Murphy made some reply, on hearing which the excited peer kept to his rash oath, for tugging at his sword, he unsheathed it and plunged it into Murphy’s body. The wounded man instantly exclaimed, “I ‘m killed!” No attempt seems to have been made to take the drunken peer into custody. He gave a four-pound piece of gold to the landlord of the tavern as recompense for the wound he inflicted on Murphy, and went away.

The victim of his intemperance lingered from the 9th August to the 25th of September, 1738, when he died in Dublin, in a small lane called Hammond’s Lane.

The law officers at that time were Robert Jocelyn, Attorney-General, and John Bowes, Solicitor-General. They took prompt steps to bring the offender to the bar of justice. He was arrested and indicted for murder. A true bill being found by the Grand Jury of the County of Dublin, a writ of *certiorari *was applied for and granted, removing the trial from the Court of King’s Bench to the House of Lords, in order that the prisoner should be tried by his Peers.

There was a great bustle and flocking of individuals to the Parliament House on College Green on the morning of the 27th April, 1739, the day fixed for the trial of Lord Santry. Soldiers in uniform, civilians in their best attire, the battle-axe guards in their full equipments, all thronged the avenues to the Parliament House.

There was a strong body of the city constables present, and, as the trial was fixed to take place at an early hour, the city was astir from daybreak. Troops lined the streets as early as seven o’clock, and at half-past seven the noble prisoner, only twenty-nine years of age, was conveyed in a coach, in the custody of the High Sheriff of Dublin, to the court wherein he was to be tried.

The House of Commons, affording more space than the House of Lords, was fitted up for this solemn investigation. The Peers were not so prompt in going forth as the citizens. The Lord High Steward was the Chancellor Lord Wyndham, and he held a levee in ‘his mansion in St. Stephen’s Green on that morning, at which the judges in their ermine, the King-of-Arms in his robes, the Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod, and the Sergeant-at-Arms attended. These high dignitaries escorted the Lord High Steward in his progress to preside at the trial. On this occasion, the *Black *Rod was changed for a *white *one, and the Sergeant-at-Arms bore a mace.

The chronicles of the time give a full account of the solemn procession. They tell us of the state observed-how twelve gentlemen led the way, marching bareheaded, two and two; then followed the Sergeant-at-Arms with the mace and the seal-bearer with the purse, also uncovered; then his Grace the Lord High Steward, in gorgeous robes, and his train-bearers, with Ulster King of Arms on his right, and the Usher of the Black Rod bearing the white wand of the Lord High Steward on his left.

Then followed the chief and puisne judges, in scarlet and ermine. The gorgeous if cumbrous coaches, chiefly drawn by six horses, Conveyed their “potent, grave, and reverend signors” to the Parliament House. They were met by four Sergeants with maces, and, on entering the High Court of Parliament, found the Peers already assembled. A chair of state, raised higher than those of other Peers, and surmounted by a rich canopy, was prepared for the Lord High Steward. Lord Wyndham bowed right and left as he proceeded to his place. The purse was laid on a small table beside him, and the Sergeant-at-Arms, with the mace, took his place near the table.

The proceedings were opened by the Clerk of the Crown of the King’s Bench opening the Court, and the Clerk of the Crown in Chancery bearing the Commission from his Majesty, empowering the Lord High Steward to preside. These officials made their bows, and the Sergeant-at-Arms, having called aloud, “Oyez!” three times, the Clerk of the Crown of the King’s Bench read the Commission the Lords standing uncovered while it was reading.

After an amount of bowing and reverences which it is unnecessary to relate, the Peers took their seats according to their respective rank. The indictment being read, the Clerk of the Crown asked the prisoner to plead, which he did by “Not guilty.”

He was then asked how he would be tried, to which he answered, “By God and my Peers.” Then the Lord High Steward gave him in charge of the Peers, and Robert Jocelyn, the Attorney-General, stated the case for the prosecution as I have already mentioned: The defense was “that the death of Murphy was not caused by the stab, but by a disease of long standing.”

But the masterly speech of the Solicitor-General (Bowes) fully answered this by showing that it was solely owing to the blow inflicted by the prisoner the deceased owed his death, and the disease under which it was alleged Murphy labored would not have caused his death had not the sword of the prisoner entered Murphy’s body. One of the spiritual Peers, Dr. Randle, Bishop of Derry, in a letter to a friend thus refers to the trial

“Poor Lord Santry was tried on Friday by his Peers. I never beheld a sight so awful and majestic and dreadfully beautiful in my life; and nothing was ever performed with such solemnity, silence, and dignity before in any country. The finest room in Europe filled with the nobility and gentry of the whole kingdom, and both sexes; the High Steward, every one of the judges, the Lords, the triers, and the noble prisoner-young and handsome, most decent in his behavior, and with a becoming fortitude in his speaking-could not but compose the most affecting scene. All were so attentive that silence was not once proclaimcd. The King’s Counsel did admirably, but Bowes (the Solicitor-General) had an opportunity to show himself to the highest advantage. I always thought him an admirable speaker, but never imagined him half so great a man as I do at present, though I always loved and esteemed him. He did not use one severe word against the unhappy Lord, nor omitted one severe observation that truth could dictate. I never heard, never read so perfect a piece of eloquence. Its beauty rose from true simplicity and unaffected ornament; from the strength and light of his reason, the fairness, and candor, and good nature of his heart; from the order and disposition of what be said, the elegance and fullness of his expressions, the shortness and propriety of his reflections, the music of his voice, and the gracefulness of his elocution. They were all wonderful indeed, and even those who were concerned and grieved were charmed with his most masterly performance. But if they did well, I think the counsel for the prisoner acted detestably. They only prompted him to ask a few treacherous questions, and spake ‘not one word in his favor, though I have the vanity almost to think I could have offered a point of law that would have bid fair to save him.

“When the twenty-three Peers returned to give their opinion, their countenances astonished the whole House; and all knew, from the horror of their eyes and the paleness of their looks, how they were agitated within before they answered the dread question, ‘Guilty, upon my honor;’ and he was so, most certainly, according to law; nor could they, perhaps, have brought in their dreadful verdict otherwise. The Bishop blamed the surgeon who attended the deceased. Instead of sending him to an hospital, he kept the wounded man in a miserable room, damp, and his bed a mere litter of straw, without the commonest necessaries for comfort. According to the Bishop’s notion, the surgeon caused the man’s death, and this probably was the point he thought could be urged, and a very fair one if it was. I remember the late George Bennett, Crown prosecutor on the Munster circuit, used sometimes to raise a laugh at a medical witness in a case of death by his interrogation, ‘Well, doctor, you attended the deceased?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And he died accordingly.’”

There was a strong hope of a reprieve for Lord Santry. The Bishop says, “It is the King’s office and delightful prerogative to show mercy. May he do so now! What a constitution do we live under, when the blood of the meanest of the King’s subjects shall be required from one of the highest. The prisoner behaves, since his condemnation, in a manner which makes people speak of him with double pity. Even the poor in the streets weep for him. His former character, it is confessed, was had; this will make him a new man, this will purge his heart from every folly - a successful though dreadful medicine - if he survives it.”

The powerful interest put forth in his case was successful. The Viceroy, Duke of Devonshire, and all the Peers who were connected with the Santry family, used their entreaties, and obtained first a reprieve, and finally a pardon.

But the pardon was not easily obtained. It is generally attributed to a threat of Lord Santry’s uncle, Sir Compton Domville, proprietor of Templeogue, near Dublin. The river Dodder was then the chief supply of water for the use of the citizens, as the Vartry is now; and, when there was a refusal to spare the prisoner’s life, it is said, his uncle expressed his determination to divert the stream of the Dodder from the city, unless Lord Santry’s life was spared: that to avoid this calamity, the prisoner was allowed to escape, which he did, into Italy, where he died.

The next trial of a Peer took place only a few years later. It was also an indictment for murder. Nicholas, fifth Viscount Netterville, was arraigned before the Lords of Ireland for the murder of one Michael Walsh, in the county of Meath. The trial took place in 1743, when Lord Jocelyn (Lord Chancellor) presided as Lord High Steward. The counsel for the Crown were the Prime Serjeant Anthony Malone Bowes, the Attorney-General, and St. George Caulfield, Solicitor-General. As spiritual Peers were not entitled to interfere in criminal trials, leave was given them to remain away.

The same ceremonies as those observed in the case of Lord Santry were used, but the case fell to the ground. Two principal witnesses had died since making their depositions, and their depositions could not be read in evidence. So when the Lord High Steward put the question, “Whether Nicholas, Lord Viscount Netterville, is guilty of the felony whereof he stands indicted, or not guilty?” each peer being called *seriatim, *beginning with the last created Baron, declared, upon his honor - standing in his place uncovered-and laying his right hand on his breast, that ” Lord Netterville is not guilty.”

Thereupon the Lord High Steward broke his white wand, and adjourned the House.

General Contents. .