When the day arrived that the Chief Baron was to resume his place on
the Bench, no small share of excitement was seen to prevail within the
precincts of the Four Courts. Many opined that his recovery was far
from perfect, and that it was not his intention ever to return to the
justice-seat. Some maintained that the illness had been far less severe
than was pretended, and that he had employed the attack as a means of
pressure on the Government, to accord to his age and long services
the coveted reward. Less argumentative partisans there were who were
satisfied to wager that he would or would not reappear on the Bench, and
bets were even laid that he would come for one last time, as though to
show the world in what full vigor of mind and intellect was the man the
Government desired to consign to inactivity and neglect.
It is needless to say that he was no favorite with the Bar. There was
scarcely a man, from the highest to the lowest, whom he had not on some
occasion or another snubbed, ridiculed, or reprimanded. Whose law had he
not controverted? Whose acuteness had he not exposed, whose rhetoric
not made jest of? The mere presence of ability before him seemed to
stimulate his combative spirit, and incite him to a passage at arms with
one able to defend himself. No first-rate man could escape the shafts of
his barbed and pointed wit; it was only dulness, hopeless dulness,
that left his court with praise of his urbanity and an eulogy over his
courteous demeanor.
Now, hopeless dulness is not the characteristic of the Irish Bar, and
with the majority the Chief Baron was the reverse of popular.
No small tribute was it therefore to his intellectual superiority, to
that mental power that all acknowledged while they dreaded, that his
appearance was greeted with a murmur of approbation, which swelled
louder and louder as he moved across the hall, till it burst out at
last into a hoarse, full cheer of welcome. Mounting the steps with
difficulty, the pale old man, seared with age and wrinkled with care,
turned round towards the vast crowd, and with an eye of flashing
brightness, and a heightened color, pressed his hand upon his heart,
and bowed. A very slight motion it was,--less, far less, perhaps, than
a sovereign might have accorded; but in its dignity and grace it was a
perfect recognition of all the honor he felt had been done him.
How broken! how aged! how fearfully changed! were the whispered remarks
that were uttered around as he took his seat on the Bench, and more
significant even than words were the looks interchanged when he
attempted to speak, and instead of that clear metallic ring which once
had been audible even outside the court, a faint murmuring sound was
only heard.
A few commonplace motions were made and discharged. A somewhat wearisome
argument followed on a motion for a new trial, and the benches of the
Bar gradually grew thinner and thinner, as the interest of the scene
wore off, and as each in turn had scanned, and, after his own fashion,
interpreted, the old Judge's powers of mind and body; when suddenly,
and as it were without ostensible cause, the court began to fill,--bench
after bench was occupied, till at last even all the standing-space was
crowded; and when the massive curtain moved aside, vast numbers were
seen without, eagerly trying to enter. At first the Chief Baron appeared
not to notice the change, but his sharp eye no sooner detected it than
he followed with his glance the directed gaze of the crowd, and saw
it fixed on the gallery, opposite the jury-box, now occupied by a
well-dressed company, in the midst of whom, conspicuous above all, sat
Lady Lendrick. So well known were the relations that subsisted between
himself and his wife, such publicity had been given to their hates and
quarrels, that her presence here was regarded as a measure of shameless
indelicacy. In the very defiant look, too, that she bestowed on the body
of the court she seemed to accept the imputation, and to dare it.
Leisurely and calmly did she scan the old man's features through her
double eyeglass, while from time to time, with a simpering smile, she
would whisper some words to the lady at her side,--words it was not
needful to overhear, they were so palpably words of critical comment
upon him she gazed at.
So engrossed was attention by the indecency of this intrusion, which had
not even the shallow pretext of an interesting cause to qualify it, that
it was only after a considerable time it was perceived that the lady who
sat next Lady Lendrick was exceedingly beautiful. If no longer in her
first youth, there were traits of loveliness in her perfectly formed
features which even years respect; and in the depth of her orbits and
the sculptural elegance of her nostrils and her mouth, there was all
that beauty we love to call Greek, but in which no classic model ever
could compete with the daughters of England.
Her complexion was of exceeding delicacy, as was the half-warm tint of
her light-brown hair. But it was when she smiled that the captivation
of her beauty became perfect; and it seemed as though each and all there
appropriated that radiant favor to himself, and felt his heart bound
with a sort of ecstasy. It had been rumored in the morning through the
hall that the Chief Baron, at the rising of the Court, would deliver a
short reply to the address of the Bar; and now, as the last motion was
being disposed of, the appearance of eager expectation and curiosity
became conspicuous on every side.
That the unlooked-for presence of his wife had irritated and embarrassed
the old man, was plain to the least observant. The stern expression of
his features; the steadfast way in which he gazed into the body of
the court, to avoid even a chance glance at the gallery; the fretful
impatience with which he moved his hands restlessly amongst his
papers,--all showed discomposure and uneasiness. Still, it was well
known that the moment he was called on for a mental effort intellect
ever assumed the mastery over temper, and all felt that when he should
arise not a trace of embarrassment would remain to mar the calm dignity
of his manner.
It was amidst a hushed silence that he stood up, and said: “Mr. Chief
Sergeant, and Gentlemen of the Bar: I had intended to-day,--I had even
brought down with me some notes of a reply which I purposed to make to
the more than flattering address which you so graciously offered to me.
I find, however, that I have overrated the strength that remains to
me. I find I have measured my power to thank you by the depth of my
gratitude, and not by the vigor of my frame. I am too weak to say all
that I feel, and too deeply your debtor to ask you to accept less than I
owe you. Had the testimony of esteem you presented to me only alluded to
those gifts of mind and intellect with which a gracious Providence was
pleased to endow me,--had you limited yourself to the recognition of the
lawyer and the judge,--I might possibly have found strength to assure
you that I accepted your praise with the consciousness that it was not
all unmerited. The language of your address, however, went beyond this;
your words were those of regard, even of affection. I am unused to such
as these, gentlemen,--they unsettle--they unman me. Physicians tell us
that the nerves of the student acquire a morbid and diseased acuteness
for want of those habits of action and physical exertion which more
vulgar organizations practise. So do I feel that the mental faculties
gain an abnormal intensity in proportion as the affections are
neglected, and the soil of the heart left untilled.
“Mine have been worse than ignored,” said he, with an elevated tone, and
in a voice that rang through the court,--“they have been outraged; and
when the time comes that biography will have to deal with my character
and my fortunes, if there be but justice in the award, the summing-up
will speak of me as one ever linked with a destiny that was beneath
him. He was a lawyer,--he ought to have been a legislator. He sat on
the Bench, while his place was the Cabinet; and when at the end of
a laborious life his brethren rallied round him with homage and with
tender regard, they found him like a long beleaguered city starved
into submission, carrying a bold port towards the enemy, but torn by
dissension within, and betrayed by the very garrison that should have
died in its defence.”
The savage fierceness of these words turned every eye in the court to
the gallery, where Lady Lendrick sat, and where, with a pleasant smile
on her face, she not only listened with seeming pleasure, but beat time
with her fan to the rhythm of the well-rounded periods.
A quivering of the lip, and a strange flattening of the cheek of one
side, succeeded to the effort with which he delivered these words, and
when he attempted to speak again his voice failed him; and after a few
attempts he placed his hand on his brow, and with a look of intense and
most painful significancy, bowed around him to both sides of the court
and retired.
“That woman, that atrocious woman, has killed him,” muttered poor Haire,
as he hastened to the Judge's robing-room.
“I am sorry, my dear, you should not have heard him in a better vein,
for he is really eloquent at times,” said Lady Lendrick to her beautiful
companion, as they moved through the crowd to their carriage.
“I trust his present excitement will not have bad consequences,” said
the other, softly. “Don't you think we ought to wait and ask how he is?”
“If you like. I have only one objection, and that is, that we may be
misconstrued. There are people here malicious enough to impute the worst
of motives to our anxiety. Oh, here is Mr. Pemberton! Mr. Pemberton,
will you do me the great favor to inquire how the Chief Baron is? Would
you do more, and say that I am most eager to know if I could be of any
use to him?”
If Mr. Pemberton had no fancy for his mission, he could not very well
decline it. While he was absent, the ladies took a turn through the
hall, inspecting the two or three statues of distinguished lawyers, and
scanning the living faces, whose bewigged expression seemed to blend the
over-wise and the ridiculous in the strangest imaginable manner.
A sudden movement in the crowd betokened some event; and now, through a
lane formed in the dense mass, the Chief Baron was seen approaching.
He had divested himself of his robes, and looked the younger for the
change. Indeed, there was an almost lightness in his step, as he
came forward, and with a bland smile said: “I am most sensible of the
courtesy that led you here. I only wish my strength had been more
equal to the occasion.” And he took Lady Lendrick's hand with a mingled
deference and regard.
“Sir William, this is my daughter-in-law. She only arrived yesterday,
but was determined not to lose the opportunity of hearing you.”
[Illustration: 178]
“To have _heard_ me to-day was disappointment,” said the old man, as
he raised the young lady's hand to his lips; “to see her is none. I am
charmed to meet one so closely tied to me,--of such exquisite beauty.
Ah, Madam! it's a dear-bought privilege, this candid appreciation of
loveliness we old men indulge in. May I offer you my arm?”
And now through the dense crowd they passed along,--all surprised and
amazed at the courteous attentions of the old Judge, whom but a few
moments before they had seen almost convulsed with passion.
“She almost had won the game, Haire,” said the Chief Baron, as, having
handed the ladies to their carriage, he went in search of his own. “But
I have mated her. My sarcasm has never given me one victory with
that woman,” said he, sternly. “I have never conquered her except by
courtesy.”
“Why did she come down to court at all?” blurted out Haire; “it was
positively indecent.”
“The Spanish women go to bull-fights, but I never heard that they
stepped down into, the arena. She has great courage,--very great
courage.”
“Who was the handsome woman with her?”
“Her daughter-in-law, Mrs. Sewell. Now, that is what I call beauty,
Haire. There is the element which is denied to us men,--to subdue
without effort, to conquer without conflict.”
“Your granddaughter is handsomer, to my thinking.”
“They are like each other,--strangely like. They have the same dimpling
of the cheek before they smile, and her laugh has the same ring as
Lucy's.”
Haire muttered something, not very intelligibly, indeed, but certainly
not sounding like assent.
“Lady Lendrick had asked me to take these Sewells in at the Priory, and
I refused her. Perhaps I 'd have been less peremptory had I seen this
beauty. Yes, sir! There is a form of loveliness--this woman has it--as
distinctly an influence as intellectual superiority, or great rank,
or great riches. To deny its power you must live out of the world, and
reject all the ordinances of society.”
“Coquettes, I suppose, have their followers; but I don't think you or I
need be of the number.”
“You speak with your accustomed acuteness, Haire; but coquetry is the
exercise of many gifts, beauty is the display of one. I can parry off
the one; I cannot help feeling the burning rays of the other. Come,
come, don't sulk; I am not going to undervalue your favorite Lucy. They
have promised to dine with me on Sunday; you must meet them.”
“Dine with you!--dine with you, after what you said today in open
court!”
“That I could invite them, and they accept my invitation, is the best
reply to those who would, in their malevolence, misinterpret whatever
may have fallen from me. The wound of a sharp arrow is never very
painful till some inexpert bungler endeavors to withdraw the weapon. It
is then that agony becomes excruciating, and peril imminent.”
“I suppose I am the bungler, then?”
“Heaven forbid I should say so! but as I have often warned you, Haire,
your turn for sarcasm is too strong for even your good sense. When you
have shotted your gun with a good joke, you will make a bull's eye of
your best friend.”
“By George, then, I don't know myself, that's all; and I could as easily
imagine myself a rich man as a witty one.”
“You are rich in gifts more precious than money; and you have the
quintessence of all wit in that property that renders you suggestive;
it is like what chemists call latent heat. But to return to Mrs. Sewell:
she met my son at the Cape, and reports favorably of his health and
prospects.”
“Poor fellow! what a banishment he must feel it!”
“I wonder, sir, how many of us go through life without sacrifices! She
says that he goes much into the world, and is already very popular in
the society of the place,--a great and happy change to a man who
had suffered his indolence and self-indulgence to master him. Had he
remained at home, I might have been able to provide for him. George
Ogle's place is vacant, and I am determined to exercise my right of
appointment.”
“First Registrar, was he not?”
“Yes; a snug berth for incapacity,--one thousand a year. Ogle made
more of it by means we shall not inquire into, but which shall not be
repeated.”
“You ought to give it to your grandson,” said Haire, bluntly.
“You ought to know better than to say so, sir,” said the Judge, with a
stern severity. “It is to men like myself the public look for example
and direction, and it would be to falsify all the teaching of my life if
I were to misuse my patronage. Come up early on Saturday morning, and
go over the lists with me. There are one hundred and twenty-three
applicants, backed by peers, bishops, members of Parliament, and men in
power.”
“I don't envy you your patronage.”
“Of course not, sir. The one hundred and twenty-two disappointed
candidates would present more terror to a mind like yours than any
consciousness of a duty fulfilled would compensate for; but I am
fashioned of other stuff.”
“Well, I only hope it may be a worthy fellow gets it.”
“If you mean worthy in what regards a devotion to the public service, I
may possibly be able to assure you on that head.”
“No, no; I mean a good fellow,--a true-hearted, honest fellow, to whom
the salary will be a means of comfort and happiness.”
“Sir, you ask far too much. Men in my station investigate fitness and
capacity; they cannot descend to inquire how far the domestic virtues
influence those whom they advance to office.”
“You may drop me here: I am near home,” said Haire, who began to feel a
little weary of being lectured.
“You will not dine with me?”
“Not to-day. I have some business this evening. I have a case to look
over.”
“Come up on Saturday, then,--come to breakfast; bring me any newspapers
that treat of the appointment, and let us see if we cannot oppose this
spirit of dictation they are so prone to assume; for I am resolved I
will never name a man to office who has the Press for his patron.”
“It may not be his fault.”
“It shall be his misfortune, then. Stop, Drab; Mr. Haire wishes to get
down. To the Priory,” said he, as his friend went his way; and now,
leaning back in his carriage, the old man continued to talk aloud, and,
addressing an imaginary audience, declaim against the encroaching
spirit of the newspapers, and inveigh against the perils to which their
irresponsible counsels exposed the whole framework of society; and thus
speaking, and passionately gesticulating, he reached his home.