Hawkins got up, and turned Mr. Joseph Brown’s speech to ridicule in two or three sentences.

“Gentlemen,” he almost whispered, after a very small whistle which nobody could hear but those close around, at the same time pointing his thumb over his shoulder at his opponent, “do you know him—­do you know Joe Brown?” There was a roar of laughter.  Joe looked up, saw nothing, and retired again into his bandana.

Again the performance was gone through.  “Do you know Joe Brown, the best fellow in the world?”

Brown looked up again, and was just in time to hear the jury say they had heard quite enough of the case.  No slander—­verdict for the defendant.

It was one of the best pieces of acting I ever saw him do.]

CHAPTER XXXI.

APPOINTED A JUDGE—­MY FIRST TRIAL FOR MURDER,

No sooner was the Tichborne case finished than I was once more in the full run of work.

One brief was delivered with a fee marked twenty thousand guineas, which I declined.  It would not in any way have answered my purpose to accept it.  I was asked, however, to name my own fee, with the assurance that whatever I named it would be forthcoming.  I promised to consider a fee of fifty thousand guineas, and did so, but resolved not to accept the brief on any terms, as it involved my going to Indie, and I felt it would be unwise to do so.

In 1874 I was offered by Lord Cairns the honour of a judgeship, which I respectfully declined.  It was no hope of mine to step into a puisne judgeship, or, for the matter of that, any other judicial position.  I was contented with my work and with my career.  I did not wish to abandon my position at the Bar, and my friends at the Bar, and take up one on the Bench with no friends at all; for a Judge’s position is one of almost isolation.  This refusal gave great dissatisfaction to many, and a letter I have before me says, “I got into a great row with my editor by your refusal.”  Another said he lost a lot of money in consequence:  “I thought it was any odds upon your taking it.”

Sir Alexander Cockburn gave me a complimentary side-cut in a speech he made to some of his old constituents.

“The time comes,” said he, “when men of the greatest eminence are called upon to give up their professional emoluments for the interests of their country.  In my opinion they have no right to refuse their services; no man has this right when his country calls for them.”

But these animadversions did not affect me.  I held on to the course which I had deliberately chosen, and which I thought my labours and sacrifices in the Tichborne case on behalf of my country entitled me to enjoy.  Let any one who has the least knowledge of advocacy consider what it was to carry that case to a successful issue, and then condemn me for not taking a judgeship if he will.  I was entitled to freedom and rest.  A judgeship is neither, as one finds out when once he puts on the ermine.  But it requires no argument to justify the course I took.  I was entitled to decline, and I did.  There is nothing else to be said; all other considerations are idle and irrelevant.