On one occasion when we had asked Sir Alexander Cockburn to dine with us, my wife took George Critchett, the eminent ophthalmic surgeon and father of our lost friend, Sir Anderson, to him, saying: "Let me present Mr. Critchett to you, Lord Chief; as Justice is said to be blind, you may find his services useful." On another, in reply to a similar invitation, he wrote that he was just starting for Geneva to preside at the Alabama Conference, and wished that troublesome vessel had gone to the bottom of the sea the day she was launched. Soon afterwards, at the close of our annual Swiss holiday, we passed through Geneva just at the time the Alabama claims were settled there, and paid our respects to the Lord Chief at the old Hôtel des Bergues, to the sound of guns firing and the glory of flags flying.
This delightful friendship was broken suddenly. It was in the year we opened our newly rebuilt Haymarket Theatre, which he greatly admired, that after presiding over an intricate case in Westminster Hall, the Lord Chief left the haunts of justice and the "law's delay" for the last time. He dismissed his smart little brougham and walked home to Hertford Street. During the night came a fatal attack of angina pectoris.
When I was a struggling country actor in Liverpool, so far back as 1864, I made the acquaintance of a struggling barrister on the Northern Circuit. His name was Charles Russell, and he, too, became Lord Chief Justice of England. I enjoyed his friendship until his death. His personality was both dominating and downright. You could not be in a room with him and not be conscious of his presence. No man more firmly said what he meant and meant what he said, while his Irish tongue was ever ready with the apt bright answer, as, for instance, when, asked the severest sentence for bigamy, he answered: "Two mothers-in-law!" He was a relentless cross-examiner, and though sometimes a sharp antagonist was always a friend. There was no littleness about him, and he had no use for a fool.
Russell, L. C. J.
When I started my hospital "readings," I made a point of avoiding any suggestion of "creed," and arranged two recitals on behalf of Jewish and Roman Catholic institutions: at the former the Chief Rabbi presided, at the latter Cardinal Vaughan promised to do so, but was prevented by sudden illness: his place was taken by the Lord Chief Justice. Soon afterwards I was asked to serve a cause which was pronouncedly Protestant. In talking over who was to be invited to preside, I found the committee very desirous that Lord Russell should be approached. I pointed out that he, being a fervent Roman Catholic, could hardly be expected to comply, adding that he had only quite recently presided at a "reading" of the same story which I had given for the benefit of Catholics. The committee, however, said they could but be refused, and made their request. Lord Russell replied that I had gone out of my way to help a charity of his Faith, and that he would gladly do the same for me. The generous speech he made on the occasion was a warm tribute to the Reverend William Rogers—known widely as "Hang Theology Rogers." I cherish the remembrance of many acts of kindness shown to me and mine by Lord Russell of Killowen, but not one of them touched me more than that I have just related.
He was an ardent playgoer, with an intimate knowledge of Shakespeare, and rarely missed first nights, or when a play of one of his many friends was produced. He loved a game—of cards or otherwise—and I have seen him at Monte Carlo writhe because his exalted position robbed him of the pleasure of a "flutter" at trente-et-quarante. He was a real sportsman and a member of the Jockey Club.
I was greatly struck by a tribute the Lord Chief paid to an old guest, a host and true friend of mine for many years, the late Sir George Lewis. It was at the close of the Parnell trial, when he spoke to this effect: "The most remarkable attribute in George Lewis is not his great knowledge of the law, not his unrivalled skill in conducting difficult cases, not his wonderful tact, not his genius for compromise. They are all beaten by his courage."
At a banquet given to Irving on his return from one of his tours in the United States, I was seated next to Lord Russell, who, half-way through the dinner, suddenly said to me: "I have to propose Irving's health. What shall I say?" I replied that no one could answer the question so well as himself. However, the Chief persisted, with that well-remembered, imperious manner of his, "Come, come, my friend, you must have done it often: tell me what I am to say." I recalled an occasion when I had proposed Irving's health, and said that I spoke of him as possessing "the strength of a man, the sweetness of a woman, and the simplicity of a child." Lord Russell turned to me with the question, "How about the wisdom of a serpent? I could not have left that out."
Alverstone, L. C. J.
Lord Alverstone, so long known as "Dick" Webster, who succeeded Russell, was Attorney-General, Master of the Rolls, and Lord Chief Justice, all in the same year. It was as Attorney-General that Webster dined with me, and I paid a pleasant visit in his company to the Isle of Wight (which he represented in the House of Commons) to do him a small service.