The Reminiscences of Sir Henry Hawkins (Baron Brampton) Part 25

"That's right."

"Would a _teapot_ be of any use to you, Mr. Orkins?"

"A teapot!"

"Yes, sir, or a few silver spoons--anything you like to name, Mr.

Orkins."

I begged him to leave the court.

"Mr. Orkins, I will; but I am grateful for your gettin' me off that job, and if a piece o' plate will be any good, I'll guarantee it's good old family stuff as'll fetch you a lot o' money some day."

I again told him to go, and, disappointed at my not accepting things of greater value, he said,--

"Sir, will a sack o' taters be of any service to you?"

This sort of grat.i.tude was not uncommon in those days. I told the story to Mr. Justice Wightman, and he said,--

"Oh, that's nothing to what happened to the Common Serjeant of London.

He had sent to him once a Christmas hamper containing a hare, a brace and a half of pheasants, three ducks, and a couple of fowls, which _he accepted_."

I sometimes won a jury over by a little good-natured banter, and often annoyed Chief Justice Campbell when I woke him up with laughter. And yet he liked me, for although often annoyed, he was never really angry. He used to crouch his head down over his two forearms and go to sleep, or pretend to, by way of showing it did not matter what I said to the jury. I dare say it was disrespectful, but I could not help on these occasions quietly pointing across my shoulder at him with my thumb, and that was enough. The jury roared, and Campbell looked up,--

"What's the joke, Mr. Hawkins?"

"Nothing, my lord; I was only saying I was quite sure your lordship would tell the jury exactly what I was saying."

"Go on, Mr. Hawkins--"

Then he turned to his clerk and said,--

"I shall catch him one of these days. Confine yourself to the issue, Mr. Hawkins."

"If your lordship pleases," said I, and went on.

The eccentricities of Judges would form a laughable chapter. Some of them were overwhelmed with the importance of their position; none were ever modest enough to perceive their own small individuality amidst their judicial environments; and this thought reminds me of an occurrence at Liverpool a.s.sizes, when Huddlestone and Manisty, the two Judges on circuit, dined as usual with the Lord Mayor. The Queen's health was proposed, of course, and Manisty, with his innate good breeding, stood up to drink it, whereupon his august brother Judge pulled him violently by his sleeve, saying, "Sit down, Manisty, you d.a.m.ned fool! _we_ are the Queen!"

I was addressing a jury for the plaintiff in a breach of promise case, and as the defendant had not appeared in the witness-box, I inadvertently called attention to an elderly well-dressed gentleman in blue frock-coat and bra.s.s b.u.t.tons--a man, apparently, of good position. The jury looked at him and then at one another as I said how shameful it was for a gentleman to brazen it out in the way the defendant did--ashamed to go into the witness-box, but not ashamed to sit in court.

Here the gentleman rose in a great rage amidst the laughter of the audience, in which even the ushers and javelin-men joined, to say nothing of the Judge himself, and shouted with angry vociferation,--

"Mr. Hawkins, I am _not_ the defendant in this case, Sir ----"

"I am very sorry for you," I replied; "but no one said you were."

There was another outburst, and the poor gentleman gesticulated, if possible, more vehemently than before.

"I am not the def--"

"n.o.body would have supposed you were, sir, if you had not taken so much trouble to deny it. The jury, however, will now judge of it."

"I am a married man, sir."

"So much the worse," said I.

CHAPTER XXVII.

MY CANDIDATURE FOR BARNSTAPLE.

Although the House of Commons dislikes lawyers, const.i.tuencies love them. The enterprising patriots of the long robe are everywhere sought after, provided they possess, with all their other qualifications, the one thing needful, and possessing which, all others may be dispensed with.

Barnstaple was no exception to the rule. It had a character for conspicuous discernment, and, like the unseen eagle in the sky, could pick out at any distance the object of its desire.

Eminent, respectable, and rich must be the qualification of any candidate who sought its suffrages--the last, at all events, being indispensable.

Up to this time I had not felt those patriotic yearnings which are manifested so early in the legal heart. I was never a political adventurer; I had no eye on Parliament merely as a stepping-stone to a judgeship; and probably, but for the events I am about to describe, I should never have been heard of as a politician at all. There were so many candidates in the profession to whom time was no object that I left this political hunting-ground entirely to them.

In 1865 I was waited upon at Westminster by a very influential deputation from the Barnstaple electors--honest-looking electors as any candidate could wish to see--bringing with them a requisition signed by almost innumerable independent electors, and stating that there were a great many more of the same respectable cla.s.s who would have signed had time been permitted. Further signatures were, however, to be forwarded. It was urged by the deputation that I should make my appearance at Barnstaple at the earliest possible date, as no time was to be lost, and they were most anxious to hear my views, especially upon topics that they knew more about than I, which is generally the case, I am told, in most const.i.tuencies. I asked when they thought I ought to put in an appearance.

"Within a week at latest," said the leading spirit of the deputation.

"Within a week at latest," repeated all the deputation in chorus."

Because," said the leading personage, "there is already a gentleman of the name of Cave" (it should have been p.r.o.nounced as two syllables, so as to afford me some sort of warning of the danger I was confronting) "busily canva.s.sing in all directions for the Liberal party, and Mr. Howell Gwynne and Sir George Stukely will be the Conservative candidates. However, it would be a certain seat if I would do them the honour of coming forward. There would be little trouble, and it would almost be a walk-over."

A walk-over was very nice, and the tantalizing hopes this deputation inspired me with overcame my great reluctance to enter the field of politics; and in that ill-advised moment I promised to allow myself to be nominated.

It was arranged that I should make my appearance by a specified afternoon train on a particular day in the week (apparently to be set apart as a public holiday), so that I had little time for preparation.

By the next day's post I received a kind of official communication from "our committee," stating that a very substantial deputation from the general body would have the honour to meet me at the station, and accompany me to the committee-rooms for the purpose of introduction.

Down, therefore, I went by the Great Western line, and in due time arrived at my destination, as I thought.

I found, instead of the "influential body of gentlemen" who were to have the honour of conducting me to the headquarters of the Liberal party, there was only a small portion of it, almost too insignificant to admit of counting. But he was an important personage in uniform, and dressed somewhat like a commissionaire.

After much salutation and deferential hemming and stammering, he said I had better proceed to a _little station only a few miles farther on and dine_, "and if so be I'd do that, they would meet me in the evening."

Not being a professional politician, nor greatly ambitious of its honours, I was somewhat disconcerted at such extraordinary conduct on the part of my committee, and would have returned to town, but that the train was going the wrong way, and by the time I reached the little station I had argued the matter out, as I thought. It _might_ be a measure of precaution, in a const.i.tuency so respectable as Barnstaple, to prevent the least suspicion of _treating_ or corrupt influence. Had I dined at Barnstaple it might have been suggested that some one dined with me or drank my health. Whatever it was, the revelation was not yet.

I was to return "as soon as I had dined." Everything was to be ready for my reception.

All these instructions I obeyed with the greatest loyalty, and returned at an early hour in the evening. But if I was disappointed at my first reception, how was I elated by the second! All was made up for by good feeling and enthusiasm. We were evidently all brothers fighting for the sacred cause, but what the cause was I had not been informed up to this time.

At the station was a local band of music waiting to receive me, and to strike up the inspiring air, "See the conquering hero comes;" but, unfortunately, the band consisted only of a drum, of such dimensions that I thought it must have been built for the occasion, and a clarionet.

Before the band struck up, however, I was greeted with such enthusiastic outbursts that they might have brought tears into the eyes of any one less firm than myself. "Orkins for ever!" roared the mult.i.tude. It almost stunned me. Never could I have dreamt my popularity would be so great. "Orkins for ever!" again and again they repeated, each volley, if possible, louder than before. "Bravo, Orkins! Let 'em 'ave it, Orkins! don't spare 'em." I wish I had known what this meant.

I must say they did all that mortals could do with their mouths to honour their future member.