Rough on the playwright, of course, but does it not contain a subtle compliment to the Judge? I extend to my anonymous correspondent my best thanks. No post-card that I have ever carried about in my pocket has given greater pleasure to my friends.
That first night of “The Captain of the School,” on November 14, 1910, had a keen interest for me, inasmuch as it was the first appearance of my daughter, Miss Dorothy Parry, so that, as it were, from a domestic point of view we were having two first nights at the same time. She made an excellent success, which she repeated in London and elsewhere; but certainly she ought to agree with my appreciation of the Manchester audience. May it be my good fortune to risk another argosy among its friendly waves before the end of the last act.
CHAPTER XVII
QUOTATIONS FROM QUAY STREET
The art of quotation requires more delicacy in the practice than those conceive who can see nothing more in a quotation than an extract.
Isaac Disraeli: “Curiosities of Literature.”
At the corner of Byrom Street and Quay Street was the Manchester County Court, as I knew it, from 1887 to 1894, as a barrister and afterwards from that date to 1911 as judge. I must have spent a great portion of my waking hours within its dreary walls. Often do I walk down Peter Street in my dreams, and find the same officer on point duty holding up the traffic like the waves of the Red Sea in order that I may cross Deansgate with dignity and he may deliver an elaborate salute; but following the pleasant desultory fashion of dreamland I never actually reach the old Court, but wander away elsewhere. I do not think when I am departed I shall ever return to haunt the court-house, not merely because it is noisy, ill-ventilated, and uncomfortable—most court-houses are—but because if I once got back there I should want to be at work again, and to take a hand in what was going on, for despite all the dreariness of its somewhat squalid routine, I found a percentage of entertainment in the day’s work.
I think the real reason spirits do not return to their old haunts is that they know that they would not be allowed to cut in and take part in the game.
I was on the point of saying I had no unpleasant memories of Quay Street, but that would scarcely be correct, for it was in that court that I had the misfortune to be shot. One does not care to remember the tragedies of life, but if one is to set down the happenings of one’s Manchester days one can hardly leave out such an extraordinary occurrence. The facts as I understood them were these. On the morning of July 26, 1898, I had to cancel the certificate of a man named William Taylor. The case had lasted very late the night before. After the decision and just as the next case was started I became aware of what I first thought was a dynamite explosion close to my left ear. The second explosion, which caused me intense pain, I recognised to be a pistol shot, and the bullet from that I carry about with me still. The third, which gave me even greater pain, never hit me at all, for Henry Thomason, with magnificent bravery, had caught my assailant by the throat, thrown him on to the floor, and the third shot, in fact, went into the plaster on the opposite wall and then out again into the middle of the court. I must have tried to drag my head out of the way and so hurt myself. I never absolutely lost consciousness, and remember Montgomery, the surgeon who happened to be in court, examining my throat and saying “there was no perforation.” I hadn’t an idea what he meant, but it sounded reassuring.