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

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 conceivable event--I saw, emerging from a bystreet that led from Bedford Jail, and coming along through the square and near the window where I was standing, a common farm cart, drawn by a horse which was led by a labouring man. As I was above the crowd on the first floor I could see there was a layer of straw in the cart at the bottom, and above it, tumbled into a rough heap, as though carelessly thrown in, a quantity of the same; and I could see also from all the surrounding circumstances, especially the pallid faces of the crowd, that