LEAVING THE BENCH--LORD BRAMPTON.
At length the time came when I was to bid good-bye to the Queen's
Bench and the Court No. 5 in which I had so long presided, where I had
met and made so many friends, all more or less learned in the law. I
had been a Judge since the year 1876, and Time, in its never-ceasing
progress, had whispered to me more than once, "Tarry not too long upon
the scene of your old labours, where your presence has made you a
familiar object to all the members of every branch of your great and
responsible profession; and while health and vigour and intelligence
still, by God's blessing, remain to you, apparently unimpaired by
lapse of years, take some of that rest and repose which you have
earned, ere it be too late."
Thereupon, without any needless ceremony of leave-taking, at the close
of the year 1898 I took my leave of the Bench with a simple bow.
Silently, but with real affection for all I was leaving behind me, I
quitted my occupation on the Bench. I considered this to be a far more
dignified way of making my exit than meeting face to face the whole of
the court and its practitioners and officers, and leaving it to the
eloquent and friendly speech of the Attorney-General to flatter me far
beyond my deserts in the customary farewell address which he would
have offered to me. I thought it better to rely upon the expressions
and conduct of those who knew me well, and to feel that they
appreciated the discharge of the many arduous duties which I had been
called on to perform. As some evidence of this, I would point to the
good wishes from all kinds and classes of people which have followed
me into private life, and the numerous letters which every post
brought me, and which would fill a volume in themselves.
But the crowning honour was graciously conferred upon me by her late
Majesty Queen Victoria on January 1, 1899, through the then Marquis of
Salisbury, who signified that her Majesty intended to raise me to the
peerage. His lordship's letter announcing the gracious act I recall
with feelings of pleasure and gratitude, and I need not say that it
will, while life lasts, be my greatest pride. I was subsequently sworn
of her Majesty's Privy Council, and for more than two years attended
pretty regularly in the Final Court of Appeal.
It does not behove me to say more on this subject than that the
acknowledgment of my long services by the Sovereign must ever be my
greatest pride and satisfaction.
On February 7, 1899, I was introduced to the House of Peers, and took
my seat.
I chose for my name and designation the title of Baron Brampton, which
her Majesty was pleased to approve. My little property, therefore,
which I mentioned earlier in my reminiscences, conferred on me what
was more valuable than its income--the title by which I am now known.
Speaking with reference to those long years ago when I was dissuaded
from my career by those who doubtless had the most affectionate
interest in my welfare, and to whose advice I proved to be so
undutiful, I cannot help, whether vanity be attributed to me or not,
contrasting the position of the penniless articled clerk in the
attorney's office and the situation which came to me as the result of
unremitting labour.
Let me state it with pride as well as humility that my rewards have
been beyond my dreams and far above my deserts.
On February 7, in a committee room of the House, I was met by my
supporters and those whose duties made them a portion of the ceremony,
and realized the ambition that came to me only in my later life.
Some members of my family would have preferred the family name to be
associated with the title. I must confess I had some attachment for
it, as it had rendered me such good service, and it was somewhat hard
to give it up.
If, however, I had had any hesitation, it would have been removed
when one afternoon Lord ---- called on me, and in his chaffing manner
said,--
"Well, I hear you are to be Lord '_Awkins_ of '_Itchin_, 'Erts."
"Be ---- if I will!" said I; "Brampton's the only landed estate I have
inherited, and although the old ladies who are life-tenants kept me
out of it as long as they could, I shall take my title from it as the
only thing I am likely to get out of it."
"Bravo!" said he. "I don't like 'Awkins of 'Itchin, 'Erts. _Brampton_
sounds like a title; and so my hearty congratulations, and may you and
her ladyship live long to enjoy it!"
"Mr. Punch" was good enough to furnish me with a beautiful and
humorous coat of arms, done by that very talented artist Mr. E.T.
Reed.
* * * * *
Since the commencement of this volume many of the old friends
mentioned in it with affectionate remembrance have gone to their rest,
and I am steadily approaching my own end. Trusting to the mercy and
goodness of God, I patiently await my summons. I can but humbly add
that to the best of my poor ability I have ever conscientiously
endeavoured in all things to do my duty.
And now, as I lay down my pen, dreamily thinking over old names, old
friends, and old faces of bygone years, I live my life over again.
Everything passes like a picturesque vision before my eyes. I can see
the old coach which brought me from my home--a distance of thirty
miles in eight hours--a rapid journey in those days. This was old
Kirshaw's swift procedure. Then there was the "Bedford Times" I
travelled with, which was Whitehead's fire-engine kind of motor; but
generally in that district John Crowe was the celebrated whip.
Then passes before me the old Cock that crew over the doorway in Fleet
Street, a Johnsonian tavern of mighty lineage and celebrity for chops
and steaks. And I see the old waiter, with his huge pockets behind, in
which he deposited the tons of copper tips from the numberless diners
whom he attended to during his long career.
Then I observe the Rainbow, by no means such a celebrity, although
more brilliant than the Mitre by its side; and in the Mitre I see (but
only in imagination) Johnson and Goldsmith talking over the quaint
philosophy of wine and letters till three o'clock in the morning,
finishing their three or four bottles of port, and wondering why they
were a little seedy the next day.
And there sits at my side, enjoying his chop, Tom Firr, described as
the king of huntsmen--a true and honest sportsman, simple, respectful,
and respected, whose name I will not omit from my list of celebrities,
for he is as worthy of a place in my reminiscences as any M.F.H. you
could meet.