CHAPTER XXIX.
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.