The Reminiscences Of Sir Henry Hawkins (Baron Brampton) | Page 2

A VISIT TO SHEFFIELD--MRS. HAILSTONE'S DANISH
BOARHOUND
XXX. AN EXPERT IN HANDWRITING--"DO YOU KNOW JOE
BROWN?"
XXXI. APPOINTED A JUDGE--MY FIRST TRIAL FOR MURDER
XXXII. ON THE MIDLAND CIRCUIT
XXXIII. JACK
XXXIV. TWO TRAGEDIES
XXXV. THE ST. NEOTS CASE
XXXVI. A NIGHT AT NOTTINGHAM
XXXVII. HOW I MET AN INCORRIGIBLE PUNSTER
XXXVIII. THE TILNEY STREET OUTRAGE--"ARE YOU NOT
GOING TO PUT ON THE BLACK CAP, MY LORD?"

XXXIX. SEVERAL SCENES
XL. DR. LAMSON--A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY--A WILL
CASE
XLI. MR.J.L. TOOLE ON THE BENCH
XLII. A FULL MEMBER OF THE JOCKEY CLUB
XLIII. THE LITTLE MOUSE AND THE PRISONER--THE
BRUTALITY OF OUR OLD LAWS
XLIV. THE LAST OF LORD CAMPBELL--WINE AND
WATER--SIR THOMAS WILDE
XLV. HOW I CROSS-EXAMINED PRINCE LOUIS NAPOLEON
XLVI. THE NEW LAW ALLOWING THE ACCUSED TO GIVE
EVIDENCE--THE CASE OF DR. WALLACE, THE LAST I TRIED
ON CIRCUIT
XLVII. A FAREWELL MEMORY OF JACK
XLVIII. OLD TURF FRIENDS
XLIX. LEAVING THE BENCH--LORD BRAMPTON
L. SENTENCES
LI. CARDINAL MANNING--"OUR CHAPEL"
APPENDIX

THE REMINISCENCES OF SIR HENRY HAWKINS.
(NOW LORD BRAMPTON.)
* * * * *

CHAPTER I.
AT BEDFORD SCHOOL.
My father was a solicitor at Hitchin, and much esteemed in the county
of Hertford. He was also agent for many of the county families, with
whom he was in friendly intercourse. My mother was the daughter of
the respected Clerk of the Peace for Bedfordshire, a position of good
influence, which might be, and is occasionally, of great assistance to a
young man commencing his career at the Bar. To me it was of no
importance whatever.
My father had a large family, sons and daughters, of whom only two
are living. I mention this as an explanation of my early position when
straitened circumstances compelled a most rigid economy. During no
part of my educational career, either at school or in the Inn of Court to
which I belonged, had I anything but a small allowance from my father.
My life at home is as little worth telling as that of any other in the same
social position, and I pass it by, merely stating that, after proper
preparation, I was packed off to Bedford School for a few years.
My life there would have been an uninteresting blank but for a little
circumstance which will presently be related. It was the custom then at
this very excellent foundation to give mainly a classical education, and
doubtless I attained a very fair proficiency in my studies. Had I
cultivated them, however, with the same assiduity as I did many of my
pursuits in after-life, I might have attained some eminence as a
professor of the dead languages, and arrived at the dignity of one of the
masters of Bedford.
However, if I had any ambition at that time, it was not to become a
professor of dead languages, but to see what I could make of my own.
It is of no interest to any one that I had great numbers of peg-tops and
marbles, or learnt to be a pretty good swimmer in the Ouse. There was
a greater swim prepared for me in after-life, and that is the only reason
for my referring to it.
In the year 1830 Bedford Schoolhouse occupied the whole of one side

of St. Paul's Square, which faced the High Street. From that part of the
building you commanded a view of the square and the beautiful
country around. The sleepy old bridge spanned the still more sleepy
river, over which lay the quiet road leading to the little village of
Willshampstead, and it came along through the old square where the
schoolhouse was.
It was market day in Bedford, and there was the usual concourse of
buyers and sellers, tramps and country people in their Sunday gear;
farmers and their wives, with itinerant venders of every saleable and
unsaleable article from far and near.
I was in the upper schoolroom with another boy, and, looking out of the
window, had an opportunity of watching all that took place for a
considerable space. There was a good deal of merriment to divert our
attention, for there were clowns and merry-andrews passing along the
highroad, with singlestick players, Punch and Judy shows, and other
public amusers. Every one knows that the smallest event in the country
will cause a good deal of excitement, even if it be so small an
occurrence as a runaway horse.
There was, however, no runaway horse to-day; but suddenly a great
silence came over the people, and a sullen gloom that made a great
despondency in my mind without my knowing why. Public solemnity
affects even the youngest of us. At all events, it affected me.
Presently--and deeply is the event impressed on my mind after seventy
years of a busy life, full of almost every