MEMOIRS AND CORRESPONDENCE OF SIR SAMUEL

ROMILLY.

PERHAPS no individual ever obtained so great a hold over the Eng. lish public and the English aristocracy, by the mere weight of his personal character, as Sir SAMUEL ROMILLY, and, still more diffi- cult, retained it with increasing power till death. Though strongly opposing the Tories as a body, and preferring the truth to the in. terests of Whigs or the views of Ultra Reformers, the virulence of faction was iu his case almost destroyed : not that he wrought a miracle upon party-tools or party-adventurers and changed their nature, but so great was the respect in which he was held by the bulk of his countrymen, that any libel against him recoiled upon the libellers. Even Conme:rr, reckless as he was, having made some remarks upon Sir SAMUEL and threatened more attacks, thought fit to diop his intention, and long afterwards complained of the letters he had received upon the subject and the " uproar" it had occasioned. When Bennie T, in the heyday of his Liberal fever, started Mr. DOUGLAS KINN AIRD in opposition to ROMILLY, and his Committee proceeded to abuse the latter, he found at the end of three clays' polling that KINNAIRD had received 65 votes, and himself, their "Pride and Glory," little more than one-third the number of ROMILLY ; and he was compelled to abandon his friend and cease scurrility, to secure .his own scat. The Whig aristocracy, next to the beggarly and barbarian Turkmans of the desert the proudest of castes, yielded to the virtues of Rommee. And even GEORGE the Fourth had sufficient penetration to compre- hend that he was safer in his advice, than in that of the "friends" of his private or public career. All this is mainly traceable to the virtues and personal qualities of the man,—that happy blending which his friend MIRABEAU felicitously characterized as the " &dela sawn," the something which is requisite to give a charm to poetry itself; fine whatever weight is assigned to other circumstances, they will neither singly nor in conjunction account for his influence. The son of a reputable jeweller, his birth was very far short of that "distinction" which inlists the influential cluee in a man's favour and soothes the road fbr the promising young geeeman. Taught, after a fashion, at day-schools, but indebted to his own industry for all that he ac- quired beyond the mere elements of common knowledge, and ar- ticled in his teens to a solicitor, he had neither the means of form- iug those youthful connexious with the aristocracy, which, in this country, are the next best substitute tut' birth to a mini who wishes to run the career of public preferment, nor the opportuuity to ac- quire collegiate distinction before he entered life, which public schools and Universities furnish to a youth of " telent." As a lawyer, no doubt, he was profound; and lie vivified his legal lore with the spirit of philosophy and humanity : but still as a lawyer many have equalled him, without acquiring any thing like his in- fluence, cr indeed any idluence beyond that Cir which they render a professional equivalent. Neither would his eloquence have given him distinction ; tor, though always sensible and juet, and sometimes weighty ill matter, sometimes strong in expression, it wanted the force, perhaps the fIdlacy, winch is a necessary point with orators who must speak for party purposes. It is needless to say that Isis milk of human' kindness, which always discovered whatever there was of good in men, and his scrupulous sense of justice, re- strained hint from one very striking and popular branch of do- quence—that or iovoctive. But the virtue of Hommel wits not a mere inert quality., that contented itself with phrases, or with doing nothing mere than was thrust upon it ; nor an indi.icreet and uninfinmed zeal, which at- tempted impossible things. On the contrary, it was untiringly active, and guided by the nicest judgment. Those who know

England only as they now see it, cannot apprehend the indiarcuce

to which characterized authority and that number which follows authority', some eirty or fifty years ago. Every sessions in the Metropolis witneesed the immolation of human victims— frequently half-a-dozen at a time : the law was still more bloody than the execution, and the most trivial crime against property was putlishahle with death. As soon as he had a seat in Par-

liament, Sir S l• 'ROM I us directed his at tention to the mann- absurdities and inhumanities of the Criminal Law, overlooked

or unleisown to the t We fitctioes struggling for place, btit, not wr known to the Juries, who committed perjury to evade it—to num- bers of the community, who suffered galling injury rather thin risk a prosecution which might end in death----and to the "desolate told oppressed," who were constantly feeling it in persons of their class of' life. But to effect at Mimi' in the criminal jurisprudence, though the first, was not the only object of RomilMi : the grosser anomalies and abuses in the other branches of law were assaulted with un- tiring perseverance, though with slender success. The bulk of the Whig party had little care for questions of a practical character, which promised no immediate damage to the Ministry ; and while * " Non otitis eat pulehra case poemata; dulcia sunto." the opposition was strong enough to run PERCEVAL exceedingly I. close in divisions upon various occasions, and sometimes to defeat him BONI1LLY and his reforms were often left to struggle against the cotes which the Ministry and the Law interest could always assemble : if the evil was too palpable for defeat in the Com- mons, there were ELbos, ELLENBOROCEIL and REDESDALE, ready tra to sngle them in the Lords. Still, under these disadvantages, come way was made : but the great merit of 11.0MILLY was as the ;.,...i„llso- Of Law Reform ; it is to his exertions that we owe the parr, sitnplificatiou of the Penal Code, the greater humanity which has since animated our Legislation, and the different attempts which have latterly been made in the Reform of the Law. The memorials of this great and good citizen, which filial piety has publi$Ited after the lapse of nearly a quarter of a century front

his death, will them an enduring monument to his name and a valu-

able contributi,m to our literature. With equal judgment and delicacy, the editors have declined attempting a life of their father,

or even an expression of their own opinion, but have allowed Sir

Sown. llom MIA to be his own biographer so far as the materials exist. In doing this, indeed, they have sometimes been led to publish matters which have little direct biographical character, and sometimes no very general interest ; but such portions constitute a small part or the entire work.

The contents of the volumes form six sections,—a narrative of his Early Life, written by Sir SAMUEL himself; a selection from his Correpondetice ; the Diary of a Journey to Paris after the Peace of /Wens: a piece entitled Narrative of Events in 1805 ; a Journal of his Parliamenthry Life ; and sonic autobiographical fragments. The var ing, clisr.:cter and importance of these publications will render it ad\ :sahlu to give an account of each consecutively.

The Autobiographical Narrative consists of two parts—one written in 1796, when Rommel. had acquired some standing in his profession, the other in 1813 : they embrace his life from 1757, the

date of his birth, to 1789, when he had been called to the bar for several years, and had Worked his way into some practice : and they

form by much the most interesting part of the work, besides display- ing the literary abilit les of Roant.r.y in their but light. The narrative is that of a man full of the spirit of his subject, intimate with its essential points, and drawing his knowledge from reality, not from docuawnts —11 life by the man who has lived it. Less specific than Fa.tsnLis's, and less complete than thaws's, as embracing a shorter period. the Memoirs have more humanity and feeling than either, and derive an indescribable charm from the truth with which they reflect the amiableness of ROM1LLY'S character. In the

narrat c hi: early youth and his domestic enjoyments, we per- ceive his affectionate disposition ; in the labours of his self-instituted studio,,, we lave a type of the industry which in later years fulfilled all the duties of a senator and a leader of the b tr without neglect- ing the calls of domestic life or the claims of friendship ; and in the scnsii,ility of his nature, we see traces of that temperament, too acutely morbid, which finally produced his death. Some of these point: are indicated in the following passage descriptive of

nomILLY's EARLY YEARS.

11FouOlt up principally by it very kind and pious female relation of my moth: r. a Mr.. ala. ynret Facquier, who Lad hied in our family ever since lily root. sr's marriage. •SIr tanght us to read, and to real with intelligence ; thosuds tids Is.oks in '5 ;deli Ise were taught were ill suited to our age. The s ,v1 ;11,,r, tool all ToWBI.Ii translation of Telemachus, are those which most ticsithost use. But this 1:ind relation had too

'and d ot Is, .dt I. to :metal to to: constantly. During the last forty years of her 1 Is. it s, boon happened that many weeks passed without her being con-

fines.. 1..1. I' It J. or at I, list to her room. The care of us, 11: 011 these occasions, ales :s, •S .ds ia.aot or the 3Iary Evans, who was ill qualified to !:i•.:• sir to cultivate our 1.111dCtSfilllililtrS; hilt whose tender aka ,•: Joh, t ',tar,. 0 h,ne sensibility at the of others, toad earliest doh., to 1, .,•,i 1 LW 10 1 he 1111110,t extent or her little means, could hardly fail

to Lt os'i Lose who were under her care.

P,::.. 11.11,11.% . CNIAIL d three perriOnS 1111.re idectionate, more kind, meri• sii •, ate, whose sentiments and whose essample were better cal- culats .i n sssice every won rous alfcetion. than these two excellent sans o anal our nds,t exeeils nt tlither. It is as under the influence of these ex- :mph- tido w is passyl uursarlisst years: as has rat mother, she was incapable, frsais sue ad slate of IRA of taking any part ill our education. The rvant whom I have mentioned ors Co me ill this place of a mother. I loved r to adoration. i remember when quite a alai,:. kissing, unperceived by' L, t I,•• s•Issilass widish she wore : and when she Otiettaillill a design Of qua,I;c: :Int.ty and going to Ike with her oi, n relations, resseiving the news 115 1,1 1111,:411.11lii that could field use: and going up into nay 101■1:1 ..t. •,Ay Id' afflict iun, and imploring God upon toy knees to avert so terrn.'.

If iss sds.I.S■• said to Ise the happy privilege of youth to feel no misfortunes but iii. ls to he easels,: of the future, andtorgetful of the past. That hapr., ,• i cannot rec„ika.t havioa eye, ,,,,ho,at In sty earliest infancy,

lay in i..n was alarmed and my fears aws.hened by stories of

witch, snations; and they had' a much greater elfect upon me than is s liddren ; at beast I Judge so, from then edict being ot It more than mu,:{ ,furanon. The images of ts visor, with whirl those tales abound, in- fest"; lass tiun very long after I had disc:mica all belief' in the tales thee,, s. • . as' in the notions on which they are built : and even now, al- thou, _is I b.sics. lacti accustomed for many years to pass my evenings and my uagl.n .0 add. and without even a servant sleeping in my chambers, I must, with ,• , ,Ii sloe. confess that they are sometimes very unwelcome intruders cruelty. The prints which I found in the Lives of the Martyrs and the Newgate Calendar, have cost me many sleepless nights. My dreams too were disturbed by the hideous images which haunted my imagination by day. I thought myself present at executions, murders, and scenes of blood; and I have often lam in bed agitated by my terrors, equally afraid of remaining awake in the dark and of falling asleep to encounter the horrors of my dreams. Often have I in my evening prayers to God besought him, with the utmost fervour, to suffer me to pass the night undisturbed by horrid dreams. I bail other apprehensions, and some of a kind which are commonly reserved for maturer years. 1 was oppressed with a constant terror of death, not indeed for myself, but for my father, whose life was certainly much dearer to me than my own. I never looked on his countenance, till which care and affliction had deeply imprinted premature marks of old age, without reflecting that there could not be many years of his excellent life still to come. If he returned home later than usual, though but half an hour, a thousand accidents presented themselves to my mind; and, when put to bed, I lay sleepless and in the most tor- menting anxiety till I heard hint kuock. This state of inlaid became so habitual to me, that an uneasiness and a foreboding of some misfortune came upon me regularly about half an hour before the usual time of his return, and went on in- creasing till the moment of his arrival. So fur, indeed, was I from endeavouring to overcome this weakness, that 1 willingly encouraged it, from a strange idea which I had conceived, that by dreading misfortunes 1 prevented them ; and that the calamity which I feared would, whenever it happened, come upon me quite unawares. I took a pleasure therefore in indulging my terrors, and re- proached myself if ever I felt a moment of security. The idea of illy father's approaching death pursued me even in the midst of scenes which seemed most likely to dispel such gloomy reflections. 1 remem- ber once accompanying him to the theatre on a night when Garrick acted. The play was Zeta, and it was ibllowed by the farce of Lethe. The iuimitable and various powers of acting which were displayed by that admirable performer in both those pieces, could not for a moment drive from any mind the dismal idea which haunted me. In the aged Lusignan I saw what any hither in a few years would be, tottering on the brink of the grave ; and when in the farce the old man desires to drink the waters of Letbe, that lie may forget how old he is, I thought that the sante idea must naturally present itself to my father; that he must site as clearly as I did that his sleuth could not be at the distance of many years ; and that, notwithstanding his apparent cheerfulness, that idea must often prey upon his mind, and poison his happiness more even than it did mine. 1 looked at his countenance as he was sittilig by me, persuaded myself that I observed a change in his features, conjectured that the same painful re- flections had occurred to him as had to me, repented of having entered the theatre, and returned front it as sad and as dejected as I could have done from a funeral.

Of his education and his schoolmaster he gives this account-

" But it is time to say something of my education, if the little iustruction I ever received from masters deserves to be so called. My brother and myself were sent, when we were very young, to a day-school in our neig,hhourbood, of which the sole recommendation seems to have been that it had oi.ce been kept by a French refugee, and that the sons of many refugees were still scholars at it. All the learning which it afforded we were to receive; but the utmost that our master professed to teach was reacling, writing, arithmetic, French, and Latin ; and the last was rather inserted ill Isis hill of fare by way of orna- ment, and to give a dignity and character to the school, than that there was any capacity of teaching it either in our master or in any of his ushers. I doubt whether any one of them was capable of construing a single sentence of the easiest Latin prose. Our master was ignorant, severe, and brutal :hqmivalcyht brother and myself; however, escaped the effects of those bad qualities, by the help of others, which lie possessed ; for toe arils his scholars he wa,iosui and partial, and we were both among his favourites. The severity he treated many of the other boys, bosses er, often ixeited rep ibdignation and aversion ; and 1 often hunted with shAulc at tout being arnOng the victims of his injustice. Ile had very bad health, and his disorder gate an vslge to his ill.huinour, and kept it in eonstaut activity. a poor boy have I seen over.. Whellilell with stripes, because our master had a sleepless night or felt the symptoms of a returning. rheumatism. 'Vows,: as I then was, I was struck with the bail effects of this severe t it nicht. 'There were some illy; who were always in scrape, continually playing truant. and continnully punished with increasing severity. Their faults ;not the ini-.fi,,..::stiess of Oa disp.ssitiona seemed to increase in proportion to 1 :,2 ith which they were treated. The observation, however. could 11,,7 I.y datI. , %i■e,ionce titree itself upon the mind of so thoroughbred a seliss,d—sster as Mr. Fiark. Ile would as soon have doubted that food is the pr :or hunger, as that blows and stripes are the only genuine pronso;..- _•■ .5 ,i is cc:stiles to virtue.

script am of the scholars.

From flue nature of the school :

-oils of all the geueral the de- of my r•s trade was, 1 I harherS, tankers, and 1,111elier,, I I. !,,,,•,,s, the favour • I s gentility which we expirienised. this In.,. s. :

1..1 f SeVeral

years; and the only acquisitions I tat we ssi arithmetic,.

.■ ; '

and the rules of the French grammar. .r. .5. ,... that lan- guage we aequired at holm`; a , , 1, Ir., her that Frelahi should be spoken in the fintily on a .•I „Hs:. i,ss 0:.lys time which censtant attendance to business allow ,1 h , 11 My hither Was desirous that 1 :1,411,1 it am Lat■ii. and Latin was :theme the things width nn' master 1, Is as it Ins : but after the account winch I base given of 111\ instructors. it . s to say teat 1 made no proficiency iii it.'' On quitting. school, he kept his fa;hoi's I, for two years; during which period. has n,u.:11 Ile Pursued his reading, and a liking for literature -su " I read. without sy stem or 01.1,, t y way. such as

our father's library afforded. sass. _ libraries to

which 1 subscribed in sue,s,:se a sy, Enghsh poetry, and works of criticissa es-d. er. nit ids, .-• and poetry began to pre l`‘ t. 1 :11 .1 A 1 ssamnpo, 1 tinind 111. Sit. to my toilicakai.ic j. i,.s ,-..S of a t• faculty of rhyming. which 1 mistook fora 1.'2. :it tor L , .and

satires. made traatslatissns of am!

feeble verses and puerile i ••• • s t,• , •tli nest ttcrirg ap- plause by my family. and ittford,,', to myself: NU ;IS soon per-

, . ,

sum, et that I possessed inesstissucia. o N1.■ father's 1111f.i.. 'ICS' bee71,1110 ecgrc day more 1111111V3Sallt LA. that I had not been educated liar some profession i.ss.lo et, d with literature. I considered

But the hour I passed with him was a very small portion of the time which I every day dedicated to this new study. I consumed the greatest part of my time in poring over Caesar, Livy, and Cicero; in consulting at every difficulty the translations of those authors which I had procured ; and in making trans- lations of my own, first from Latin into English, and then back again into Latin."

A legacy left by a distant connexion of the family enabled Roatteee to pursue the late, first in a solicitor's office, and afterwards as a student for the bar. It is, however, singular, as his sons remark, that neither in his Memoirs nor in his other papers are there any traces of his method of legal study, or the means by which he attained his forensic eminence. But we may judge from the industry with which he had previously pursued his pri- vate studies, without an immediate object, that his efforts were not likely to slacken when he had the stimulus of a profession to urge him on, and that application was the secret of his success. This is the account of his self-studies ; in which may be traced the secret of his large and philosophical views of law.

EOMILLY'S SELF-STUDIES.

In the course of three or four years during which I thus applied myself, I had read every arose writer of the ages of pure Latinity, except those who have treated merely Of technical subjects, such as Varro, Collimate, and Celsus. I had gone three times through the whole of Livy, Sallust, and Tacitus: I had read all Cicero, with the exception, I believe, only of his academic questions, and his treati4es Dc That's and De Dirinatione. I had studied the most cele- brated of his oration, his Idelius, his Cuto Major, his treatise De Oratore, and his Letters, and had translated a great part of them. Terence, Virgil, Ho- race, Ovid, and Juvenal, I had read again and again. From Ovid and from Virgil I made many translations in verse, for so 1 ought to call them rather than poetical translations. At the time, however, they appeared to me to have such merit, that I remember reading with triumph, first Dryden's trans- ' Wiens and then my own to my good-natured relations, who concurred with me in thinking that I had left poor Dryden at a most humiliating distance ; a proof certainly, not of the merit of my verses, but of the badness of my judg- ment, the excess of my vanity, and the blind partiality of my friends. In ranging through such a variety of authors and studying their works, I did not imagine that I was doing any thing extraordinary. With, great sim- plicity, 1 supposed that a similar course of reading entered into the plan of education adopted at our public schools and Universities. Greek I attempted, but with no success ; and, after seriously considering the difficulties which the language presented, and the little probability there was at my time of life of my ever becoming completely master of it, or even of my making in it any to- lerable progress without sacrificing a large portion of time which might be more usefully employed, I renounced the hope of ever reading the Greek writers in the original. I determined, however, to read them ; and I went through the most considerable of the Greek historians, orators, and philosophers, in the Latin versions, which generally accompany, the original text.

My reading had been so various, that 1 hail acquired some slight knowledge

of a good many sciences. Travels had been one of my favourite subjects; and, as I seldom read either travels or history without maps betbre me, I had acquired a tolerable stock of geographical knowledge. I had read, too, a good deal of natural history, and bad attended several courses of lectures on natural philosophy given by Martin the optician in Fleet Street, by Ferguson, and by Walker.

My father's taste for pictures and prints coal hardly fail of being commu-

nicated to his children. 1 found a great sonic of amusement in turning over the prints he was possessed of, became a great admirer of pictures, never omitted an opportunity of seeing a good collection, knew the peculiar style of almost every master, and attended the lectures on painting, architecture, and anatomy, which were given at the Royal Academy.

There are many other passages equally autobiographical in their

spirit ; but we must pass on to the second section, which contains the Correspondence ; extending from 1780 to 1805. The bulk of these letters are from ROMILLY ; written chiefly to his sister's hus- band, M. ROGET, a minister of Geneva—to Dewier, and to French families, with which he had formed intimacies during his visits to Paris. his chief correspondents are Demoser and MIRABEAr, with the latter of whom he had become acquainted during the orator's exile in England. Many of ROMILLY'S own let- ters contain family particulars ; or indicate the state of his feelings, his occupations, and his gradual advance in life : but beyond this they are net of' an autobiographical character. The best of his correspondents, in grasp and comprehension, is Miesneau ; but his epistles have more relation to himself or general subjects than to

RONIILLY. The most interesting passages, throughout the letters, are those descriptive of French and English politics. In the letters of Romissv, who was a keen observer, and a pretty constant fre- quenter of the debates in Parliament, there is a good account of passing events,— as the Riots of London, the Coalition Ministry, the Elections, the Parliamentary warfitre,—told with the spirit of an eye-wit.:ess. In the foreign letters, there is an indicatory but a curious account of the French Revolution ; not the least curious parts of' which are, the apparent insensibility of every person to the terrific events which were so shortly to follow, and the little im- portance attached to affairs that, looked at now as part of a chain of causes, seem pregnant with national consequences. The Diary of the Journey to Paris in 1802, furnishes a good picture of the country and capital shortly after the Revolution ; and, besides anecdotes and traits of many eminent men, abounds with striking touches of the imperious and despotic nature of

Naermeos, which showed itself distinctly to the discriminating eye of Rosnisiar, through the flimsy veil of Republican forms. This section, however, is not an autobiography, but an account of a tour.

The " Events of 1805" is strict biography, sofas as it goes ; nar-

rating, in ilia, three important incidents of the year. The first was Rosisre.v's appointment to the Chancellorship of Durham ; the second, a most gracious ()fir of the Prince of Wales to bring him into Parliament, which he respectfully declined, having determined not to sit till he was elected by a constituency, or could purchase a seat without extravagance ; the third, his being selected by the Prince, in conjunction with Tiicasow, to advise him upon the DOUGLAS Narrative, which led to what was called, apparently in contradiction, the " Delicate Investigation." The Diary of his Parliamentary Life, or more properly of his life from the time he entered Parliament, commences in 1806, on his appointment to the office of Solicitor-General : it closes within a month of' his own death, in November 1818 ; and the two last entries are significant of the cause of that. event- " Oct. 9. Slept for the first time after many sleepless nights. 10. Relapse of Anne."

The Diary was undertaken, he says in the opening, because he " might find it very useful to ascertain past events with more ac- curacy than a memory so defective as his could enable him to do." and because " in recording every day the acts of his life, he shod(' be compelled to reflect on them, and on the motives by which he has been actuated, and, as it were, to pass a judgment on his con- duct, before it was too late for any self-confession to be of use." It consists of a journal, in which the most striking circumstances of his public career, and not unfrequently of his private life, are noted and remarked. Occasionally the passages published drop into an abridgment of Parliamentary debates, so far as relates to his own speeches, and the more conspicuous opponents of the ques- tion he was engaged on; but the greater portion of the volume has a high political or personal interest. The reader is admitted behind the scenes of a stirring drama; he sees sonic of the per- formers as they are ; he hears the secret reports of many others, and that from a person whose judgment was perfectly calm and unbiassed, and whose testimony was above ell suspicion. Intend. ing to confine ourselves to the personal chast:ter of' Sir SUWEL, we must pass over a variety of miscellaneous topics—anecdotes of persons, sketches of passing events, private readings of' public affairs, with many valuable remarks and judicious criticisms. Two points, however, we will note. 1. The plausible treachery of Lord ELDON ; the distrust, however it might be cautiously veiled, with which everybody who knew him seems rightfully to have regarded him, as a man whose words could never be trusted, and as an unscru- pulous hunter after power, for which he would sacrifice any one that stood in his way. 2. The backstairs intrigues Geoeoe the Fourth seems to have been addicted to, and the various instruments by which lie carried them on. He wished Very 1111.101 to " see and consult " Rosin-A.1r in 1813, respecting his position with regard to the Princess. Nam the architect was employed to sound him; and the first time he came without any " express message," but only spoke " his own convictions." When ROMILLY told him he could give no private advice upon a public matter, as the responsible Ministers were the only persons to be consulted, he came again with an express message and a lure of the Chancellorship; but with the same result. He then came again and again, to hold out hopes, that might be false, but, false or true, they must have been treacherous either to the Ministry or to Romisse—somehody was to be betrayed.

" 17th, Wednesday. Mr. Nash celled upon me again this morning. lie said that he came to renew the subject of' our hest conversation ; that helms extremely anxious that I should see the Prince ; that the Prince had no person who would speak honestly and openly to hint ; that he thought tint, if I saw him, what I should say to him might lead to a total change of the administra- tion; that he was still attached to his former political friends; and that it was ridiculous that Lord Yarmouth and Lord Hertford should be made by the Op- position an objection to their coining into power ; that those lords, he was sure, cared little about any political party, and only wished to retain their situations about the Prince. He said that be (lid not come to me by any authority what- ever from the Prince ; but that, since he had seen me, lie had had a very tong conversation with the Prince, at whiclOm person was 1■1,..,111t ; the Prince having made some excuse for sending stray bond Yarmouth ; and that, in that conversation the Prince had talked much about 111e; and of the confidence he was disposed to place in me ; and had said that, in a matter respecting his own family he had a right to consult me as his private counsel. * *

"21st, Sunday. I dined to day at Nash's. 1 and Anne had been invited

some time, and we have been in the habit for some years of dining now and then at cads other's houses. To my surprise, Lord Yarmouth (win had pre- viously asked Nash if lie thought Hominy would think it a duty to refuse the Great Seal unless all his friends were brought in) dined there. It was his first visit, and he was introduced to Mrs. Nash as a stram,,,r to her. I was in- troduced to him in the Mine way, though I snot him nine before mine years ago at Holland House. Nothing passed between us but in the general conver- sation which took place. Politics were hardly adverted to ; and though the Princess of Wales and the recent publications were mentioned, it was only by some common and trivial observations being made upon. Belpre Lord Yarmouth came in, however, Nash took no aside to tell me that every thing was in confusion at Carlton House' that this was the moment fin- bringing about a change of' administration ; that he was himself most auxioci that it should be effected ; and that I was the link by which the Prince might be re• milted with his old political friends. I told bins that to me this really appeared to be quite impossible. Ile said that he had, however, thought it right to ap- prize nte of tills, and that he had again had a long conver..:ation with the Prince last Friday."

The sixth and last section consists of a selection from a variety

of papers entitled " Memoranda of things to be done on entering office '—fir the Chancellorship was frequently in RomILsY's thoughts; and they show his provident fbrethought and constant activity of mind. Appended to this are some fragmentary remarks on his own life and prospects at various periods, written in the form of letters to and from himself. They contain some judicious reflections on professional objects, and show the conscientious care with which he kept watch over his own conduct ; but partake somewhat of the unreal nature of the composition's structure. This, however, is a powerful picture of a practising lawyer. " The single circumstance, that for a very long period of time none but practising lawyers have been appointed to the office of' Chancellor, niay suffi- ciently account far the manner in which its duties have been discharged. It is not from such a man that we should expect comprehensive reforms or im- portant alterations in the law. His education, his inveterate habits, the so- ciety Its has lived in, the policy by which lie has always regulated his conduct, have all tended to inspire him with a blind reverence fur every part of that system of law which lie has found established. When we reflect on this—whin we trace the former lives of all the Chancellors of modern times—when we see them, from the moment when they have quitted college, giving up their whole time to the study of one positive science, and cultivating no faculty of the mind but memory, the talent of discovering and pursuing nice and subtle distinc- tions and forced analogies, and the art of amplifying and of disguising truth— when we see them stunned, as it were, during the best years of their lives, by the continual hurry of business, reading nothing but what relates to the parti- cular cases before them, shutting out all liberal knowledge from their minds, and contracting their views to the little objects with which they are continu- ally occupied—when we see them, after a time, advanced to the offices of Soli- citor and A ttorney eneral, in which to defend and to extol every provision of the law seems to be considered as a kind of duty, as the test of loyalty, and as an earliest of their fitness for some high judicial office—when we see them compelled to become politicians because they arc the lawyers of the Crown, and acting in the House of Commons, not the part of liberal and enlightened statesmen, but that of the retained counsel of the King and his Ministers—not debating for the piddle, but pleading for their peculiar clients,—can we be sur- prised that, stepping from hence into the scat of Chancellor, they do not at once assume a new character; that their dispositions and their habits are not altered; but that the same ignorance of every thing but law, the same narrow views, the same prejudices, the same passions, the same little mind, are to be found in the magistrate as marked before the hired and hackneyed advocate?"

Tile event which formed the happiness of ROALILLY'S life for twenty years, was his marriage. This took place in 1798, when he was forty : and of the first meeting with his future wife, and the courtship, he wrote this account, but little more than a twelve- month before the eyes of both husband and wife were closed in

death.

"On the 14th of September, left Chevenage for Bowood. We stayed there ten days. The amiable disposition of Lord and Lady Lansdowne always renders this place eali1:11iful to their guests. To me, besides the enjoyment of the presem moment, there is always added, when 1 am at Bowood, a thousand pleasing recollections a past times; of the happy days I have spent, of the various society of distinguished persons I have enjoyed, of the friendships I have formed, here ; and, above all, that it was here that I first saw and became known to toy dearest Anne. If 1 bad not chanced to meet with her here, there is no probability that I ever should have seen her; for she had never been, nor was likely, unmarried, ever to have come to London. To what accidental causes are the most huportant occurrences of our lives sometimes to be traced ! SOW miles font Bowood is the form of a white horse grotesquely cut out upon the downs, and limning a landmark to a wide extent of country. To that object it is that I owe all the real happiness of my life, In the veal. 1796, 1 made a visit to 130WOOd. My dear Anne, who had been staving there some weeks, with her hither and her sisters, was about to leave it. The day fixed for their departure was the eve of that on which I arrived ; and if nothing had occurred to disappoint their purpose, I never should have seen her. But it happetied that, nu the preceding day, she was one of an equestrian party which was made to visit this curious object; she over-heated herself be her ride; a violent cold and pain in her time was the consequence. Her father found it indispensably necessary to defer his journey for several days, and in the menu time I arrived. I saw in her the most beautiful and accomplished crea- ture that ever blessed the sight and understanding of mall. A most intelligent mind, au uncommonly correct judgment, a lively imagination, a cheerful dia- nosition. a noble mid ,enerons way of thinkinfr, an elevation and heroism of Character, and a warmth and tedderness of Action smelt as is rarely found even in her sex, were among her extraordinary endowments. I was captivated alike by the beauties of her person and the charms of her mind. A. mutual ettachment was thrilled between us, which, at the end ofia little more than a wear, was consecrated by marriage. All the happiness 1 have known in her telored sod, ty, all the ninny ;tut' exquisite enjoyments which my dear children hare .1 me, even my extraordinary success in my professiou, the labours of which, ii mac li had not been so cheered and exhilarated, I never could have underesme,—all are to be traced to this trivial cause."

" What num is happy till he knows his end ? " is a feeling so universally acknowledged that its truth must be admited as inherent in the human mind. Yet reason would decide in favour of a long life of happiness though overcast for a little at the close, in- stead of a career of toil and privation to be crowned at last by a transient enjoyment.