A VISIT TO SHEFFIELD--MRS. HAILSTONE'S DANISH BOARHOUND.
The remembrance of my Sessions days will never vanish from my mind,
although at the period of which I am speaking they had long receded
into the distant past. Even _Nisi Prius_ was diminishing in
importance, although increasing in its business and fees.
Solicitors no longer condescended to deliver their briefs, but
competed for my services. I say this without the smallest vanity,
and only because it was the fact, and a great fact in my life. I was
wanted to win causes by advocacy or compromise; and the innumerable
compensation cases which continually came in with so steady and
so full a tide were a sufficient proof that, at all events, the
solicitors and others thought my services worth having. So did my
clerk!
Those were the days of the golden harvest, the very gleanings of which
were valuable to those who came after.
Lloyd must have made £20,000 a year with the greatest ease. What my
income was is of no consequence to any one; suffice it to say that no
expectations of mine ever came up to its amount, and even now when
I look back it seems absolutely fabulous. I will say no more,
notwithstanding the curiosity it has excited amongst the members of
the profession.
Of course it was a step for me from the humble "_one three six_;" but
I have had a more lively satisfaction from that little sum than from
many a larger fee.
In the midst of all this rush of London business I still found time
to run down to country places in cases of election petitions or
compensation.
One day I found myself on my way to Sheffield to support the member
against an attempt to deprive him of his seat in Parliament. I went
with the Hon. Sir Edward Chandos Leigh, my distinguished junior on
that memorable occasion.
The journey was pleasant until we got near the end of it, and then
the smoke rolled over and around in voluminous dense clouds, for a
description of which you may search in vain through "Paradise Lost."
We were met at the station with great state, and even splendour, and
treated with almost boundless hospitality.
To keep up our spirits, we were taken for a drive by the sitting
member a few miles out, into what they call "the country" in those
parts. The suburban residence was situated in a well-wooded park, if
that can be called well-wooded where there are no woods, but only
stunted undergrowths sickening with the baleful fumes that proceed
from the city of darkness in the distance, and black with the soot
of a thousand chimneys. The member apologized politely enough for
bringing us to this almost uninhabitable and Heaven-forsaken region;
but I begged him not to mind: it was only a more blasted scene than
the heath in "Macbeth."
"Yes," said he, still apologetically; "it _is_ very bad, I admit. You
see, the fumes and fires from those manufactories make such havoc of
our woods."
This was apparent, but the question was how to pass the time amidst
this gloom and sickening atmosphere.
I found his residence, however, to my great joy, was farther than I
expected from the appalling city of darkness, and hope began to revive
both in my junior's heart and mine.
Our friend and host, seeing our spirits thus elated, began, to talk
with more life-like animation.
"The fumes from the factories, Mr. Hawkins, have so played the devil
with our trees that the general impoverishment of nature has earned
for the locality of Sheffield the unpleasant title of the 'Suburbs of
Hell.'"
"I don't wonder," I answered; "no name could be more appropriate or
better deserved; but if it were my fate to choose my locality, I
should prefer to live in _the city itself_."
A curious incident happened to us during this Yorkshire visit. An
excursion was arranged to see Warburton's, situated some few miles
off, and notable for many oddities.
We were driven over, and when we arrived were by no means disappointed
by the singularities of the mansion. It was enclosed within a high
wall, which had been built, not for the purpose, as you might suppose,
of preventing the house from getting away, but for that of keeping
out rats and foxes; for there were birds to be preserved from these
destructive animals. Next, this portion of the estate was surrounded
by water, which afforded an additional security to its isolation,
access to the island being attainable only by means of a bridge.
The mansion was occupied by a Mrs. Hailstone, whose duty it was to
show visitors over the house and explain everything as she went along,
ghost stories as well; and being a remarkably affable lady, with a
great gift of language, we had a very intelligent and edifying lecture
in every room we passed through, now upon ornithology, now chronology,
next on pisciculture and the habits of stuffed pike and other
fish. But this was not all. Our guide was wonderfully well read in
architecture, and displayed no end of knowledge in pointing out the
different orders and sub-orders, periods of, and blendings of the
same, so that we were quite ready for lunch as soon as that period
should mercifully arrive.
But it was not exactly yet. There were many other curiosities to be
shown. For instance, we had not done the Warburton Library, which was
a most singular apartment, as we were informed, I don't know how
many stories high, at the top of a very singular tower, with as many
languages in it as the Tower of Babel itself, and very nearly as tall.
One only wished the whole thing would topple down before we could come
to it.
At last, however, we climbed to this lofty eminence and revelled
as well as we could amongst the musty old books, which themselves
revelled in the dust of ages.
Having seen all the shelves and the backs of the books, and heard all
the accounts of them without receiving any information, we commenced
our descent by means of the winding staircase towards the garden. On
our way a curious circumstance took place. There was an enormously
great Danish boarhound, which had, unperceived by us, followed Mrs.
Hailstone from the library; it pushed by without ceremony, and
proceeded until it reached the lady, who was some distance in advance.
He then carefully took the skirt of her dress with his mouth and
carried it like an accomplished train-bearer until she reached the
bottom of the stairs and the garden, when he let go the dress and
gazed as an interested spectator. We were now in the midst of a very
beautiful and well-kept garden, with a lawn like velvet stretching far
away to the lake, where ultimately we should have to wait for a
boat to ferry us along its placid water. This was part of our
entertainment, and a very beautiful part it was.
But before we parted from Mrs. Hailstone, and while I was talking to
her, I felt my hand in the boarhound's mouth, and a pretty capacious
mouth it was, for I seemed to touch nothing but its formidable fangs.
It was not a pleasant experience, but I preserved sufficient presence
of mind to make no demonstration. Dogs know well enough when a man or
woman loves their kind, and I am sure this one was no exception, or he
would never have behaved with such gentlemanly politeness. So soft was
the touch of his fangs that I was only just conscious my hand was in
his mouth by now and then the gentlest reminder. I knew animals too
well to attempt to withdraw it, and so preserved a calm more wonderful
than I could have given myself credit for.
While I was wondering what the next proceeding might be, Mrs.
Hailstone begged me to be quite easy, and on no account to show any
opposition to the dog's proceedings, in which case she promised that
he would lead me gently to the other side of the lawn, and there leave
me without doing the least harm.
All this was said with such cool indifference that I wondered whether
it was a part of the day's programme, and rather supposed it was; but
it turned out that she said it to reassure me and prevent mischief. I
also learned that it was not by any means the first occasion when this
business had taken place. It was the first time in my life that I had
been in custody, and if I had had my choice I should have preferred a
pair of handcuffs without teeth.
As I was being led away Mrs. Hailstone said,--
"Do exactly as he wishes; he is jealous of your talking to me, and
leads any one away who does so to the other side of the garden."
Having conducted me to the remotest spot he could find, he opened his
huge jaws and released my hand, wagged his tail, and trotted off, much
pleased with his performance. He returned to his mistress and put his
large paws on her arms--a striking proof, I thought, of the dog's
sagacity.
There will be in this history some stories of my famous "Jack," but as
he belonged to me after I became a Judge, they are deferred until that
period arrives. The reminiscences of Jack are amongst my dearest and
most pleasant recollections.
The changeful nature of popular clamour was never more manifested than
on this visit.
The Claimant had been convicted and sentenced to penal servitude, but
to deprive a man of his title and estate because he was a butcher's
son did not coincide with the wishes of a generous democracy, who
lingered round the Sheffield court, where the fate of their sitting
member was to be tried. They believed in their member, and, not
knowing on which side I was retained, when I went along the corridor
into the court they "yah! yah'd!" at me with lungs that would have
been strong enough to set their furnaces going or blow them out.
After the petition was tried, and I had been successful, they changed
their minds and their language. This same British public, which not
long before had "yah! yah'd!" at me, now came forward with true
British hoorays and bravos. "'Orkins for ever!" "Hooray for Orkins!"
"Bravo, Orkins!" "Hooray! a ---- hooray! Hooray for Wagga Wagga!"
This last cry had reference to a village in Australia where the great
Tichborne fraud had its origin; where the first advertisement of the
dowager seeking her lost son was shown to the butcher in his own
little shop, the son of the respectable butcher of Wapping.
The number of people who professed to believe in the Claimant long
after he was sent to penal servitude was prodigious, although not
one of them could have given a reason for his faith, or pointed to
a particle of unimpeachable evidence to support his opinion. It had
never been anything other than feeling in the dark for what never
existed.