’Tis with our judgments as our watches; none
Go just alike, but each believes his own.
Pope: “Essay on Criticism.”
Shee said a witty thing to Lord Coleridge, who was puzzled with the Lancashire dialect. A witness, in describing a verbal encounter, said, “Then the defendant turned round and said if ’e didn’t ’owld ’is noise ’e d knock ’im off ’is peark.”
“Peark? Mr. Shee, what is meant by peark?” asked the Lord Chief Justice.
“Oh, peark, my lord, is any position where a man elevates himself above his fellows—for instance, a bench, my lord.”
As a matter of fact, the witness placed an adjective before the word “peark.” But do not let us bring the blush of shame to the cheek of modesty. There is no cheek like the cheek of modesty.
I am reminded of that story by remembering that it is more than eighteen years since I was elevated on to my “peark” in Quay Street, Manchester. It was rather a curious position for me to attain, and a fortnight before I was appointed I had not the least idea of applying for the post, and never dreamed
that I should get it if I did. I had been very fortunate in my practice, and had, if anything, too much to do; and I confess that working at high pressure by night as well as by day not only had no charms for me, but injured my health. The amount of travelling one did was a great strain on the nerves. I recollect in four consecutive days doing cases at Fleetwood, at Hull, at London, and then at Manchester. One wanted to be as strong as the proverbial horse to get through the work without a breakdown. About ten days before Whitsuntide, I was in a case in town in the Court of Appeal, and I happened to meet a well-known Lancashire member, who began discussing with me the resignation of Judge Heywood and the chances of the various candidates for his place. None of them seemed entirely to his liking, and he suddenly suggested that I should ask for it. So little did I know of the matter that I thought it was a condition precedent to the office that a barrister should be of ten years’ standing, and to make sure about this we went across to my friend’s chambers in the Temple and looked the matter up. It turned out to be seven years and thus made me eligible.
Travelling home, the idea of regular hours of work and equally regular hours of leisure seemed to possess my mind, and I could think of nothing else. One would have to make sacrifices, no doubt, but the credit side of the imaginary balance-sheet seemed far heavier than the debit. So it was that, after some domestic debate, I wrote to the Right