There is a sort of affinity between the bar and the stage: actors are attached to lawyers because lawyers are attached to actors; at least that has been my experience—my wife and I were rich in their friendship from very early days.
I have often thought there is a strong link between our callings. The feelings of the distinguished counsel when he goes into court, with all the anxious weight upon his mind, with all his grave responsibility, cannot be unlike the feelings of the great actor on a "first night," when his fame may be in peril.
I was once, when a child, taken to the House of Lords by my grandfather; he pointed out to me the venerable Lord Brougham, who was sitting in judgment with other Law Lords. I remember that he wore shepherd's plaid trousers, also his nose, the famous nose which was immortalised by Dicky Doyle on the mask which is being dragged along the lower part of the title page of Punch.
Cockburn, L. C. J.
Lord Chief Justice Cockburn was the first great man we knew; our meeting was at dinner, when we were young, at the house of Henry Fothergill Chorley, a worshipper of Dickens and a prominent musical critic of those days; two of the guests were "Mamie" Dickens, the elder daughter of the great novelist, and Arthur Sullivan, then quite young and a protégé of our host.
I have never forgotten the feeling of awe which came over me when the butler announced, "The Lord Chief Justice of England." I always thought he looked less like a lawyer than an admiral, or the skipper of his own beloved yacht, the Sybil. My wife had the good fortune to be placed next to the Lord Chief. She had the gift of manners, and was at home in any surroundings. He took a great fancy to her, and we enjoyed the charm of his friendship for about ten years, until the end of his career. In those days I thought his was the most attractive male voice I ever listened to, whether on the Bench or in a room—even during the lengthy summing-up of the Tichborne trial it never grew monotonous—although I admit that, nowadays, the voices of Johnston Forbes-Robertson and Henry Ainley could run it very close.
Let me add that the two most attractive female voices I have listened to were owned by women widely apart in rank and station: one belonged to Queen Victoria, the other to my wife, and both voices were preserved unto old age. It is pleasant to have this opinion confirmed by no less a person than Ellen Terry, who wrote of my wife "such a very pretty voice—one of the most silvery voices I have ever heard from any woman except the late Queen Victoria, whose voice was like a silver stream flowing over golden stones."
The Lord Chief was a perfect host, well described as having the vivacity of youth tempered by the wisdom of age.
He also adored music: it was almost certain you would meet its professors at his house, and I recall memories of Madame Schumann, Joachim and Piatti. During a short time when my wife was not acting, her delight was great at being taken by him to the Monday Pops. Among his other accomplishments was an intimate acquaintance with languages: his French was as near perfection as a foreigner could get to.
"Justice is blind"