He was one of a little coterie which included Lord Anglesey, ("P."), Millais, Merewether, Q.C., Hare, "Willie" Mathews, one or two others, and myself, who played, with great zest, an old-fashioned card game—four-handed cribbage.
James was made Attorney-General, refused the Lord Chancellorship, and became a Peer.
I remember his once saying: "Fame has no Present; Popularity no Future."
One of our early legal friends was Baron Huddleston. When we first met he was known as "the buck of the Bar," and always pleaded as Counsel in black kid gloves. We owed to him and "Lady 'Di'" many happy visits in delightful company to the Grange at Ascot. He had his vanities, and gloried in being written and spoken of as "The Last of the Barons."
I was dining with Arnold Morley, at one time Postmaster General, after Huddleston's funeral, when I "put my foot in it" more painfully than ever in my life. The little company comprised: John Morley, Herbert Gardner, afterwards Lord Burghclere, Sir Charles Dilke, George Lewis, Henry Labouchere, and one other man whose name I forget. During dinner Lewis said: "Oh! Bancroft, I saw by an evening paper that you were among Huddleston's friends to-day, tell us about his cremation; what is it really like?" Without thought I let myself go and replied that when the coffin disappeared from view Henry James (Lord James of Hereford) asked Sir Henry Thompson, the pioneer and President of the new movement, if we could see any more. Accompanied by Lord Falkland, we entered the inner compartment, so I described what we there saw, it being remembered that cremation was then in its infancy, adding that I revolted against the idea of consigning the remains of a loved one to such a fate. As I spoke my eyes fell upon Sir Charles Dilke, and I was conscious that his late wife had been so treated. It did not need the leer on Labouchere's face to tell me so.
St. Helier and Holker
Lord St. Helier, who became President of the Divorce Court, was also a kind friend of long standing. My wife and I first met him as Francis Jeune, when he was just foreshadowing his successful career, at the house of Lady St. Helier, Mrs. John Stanley then, and soon afterwards we passed them in a carriage on the St. Gothard Pass—before the days of its wonderful railway—when they were on their honeymoon. He was a great authority on ritualistic and ecclesiastical law generally and always a tremendous worker. He had charming manners and was never ruffled—not even when he committed a duchess to gaol. We enjoyed their hospitality in London and at Arlington Manor. I have only one little objection to offer—I cannot help a feeling of resentment against a judge, or, in fact, any barrister, having a moustache and beard. It is not fair to the wig.
A dear friend of far-away days was Lord Justice Holker ("Sleepy Jack"). I knew him first in my old Liverpool apprenticeship when he was leader of the Northern Circuit and its legal giants. I saw him once at the Assizes there stop a case for some minutes after whispering to his clerk, who hurriedly left the court, and returned with Holker's snuff-box, which had been left in the robing-room.
Later on he had a place in Yorkshire where he had happy shooting-parties for his friends, but nothing would induce him to fire a gun himself.
Another legal friend and welcome guest was Lord Justice Mathew, who told us a pretty story of his witty fellow-countryman, Father Healy.