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the court would say to them. Accordingly His opinions respecting libels were surprisingthey did; and the chief first, and, then, the ly liberal for a judge of the cavalier party, and rest, in order, gave them a formal chiding may serve to put shame to the courtly lawyers with acrimony enough; all which, with de- of more enlightened days. jected countenances, they were bound to hear. When this discipline was over, the chief pointed to one to move; which he did, (as they said,) more like one crying than speaking; and so ended the comedy, as it was acted in Westminster-hall, called the dumb day."

His lordship used his travels on the circuit as the means of securing an interest in the country gentlemen; and with so much success, that Dr. Mew, Bishop of Winchester, who was called Patels, from a black plaster which he wore to cover a wound received in the civil war, termed him "delicia occidentis," the darling of the West; and the western members of parliament "did so firmly ensconce him that his enemies could never get a clever stroke at him." Once, indeed, he was taken in by a busy fanatic, who importuned the judges to sup with him, at his house near Exeter; and, having them fairly in his power, inflicted on them a long extemporaneous prayer, "after the Presbyterian way," which gave occasion to much merriment at the expense of their lordships, who were said to have been at a conventicle, and in danger of being presented with all their retinue for that offence by the grand jury. He also narrowly escaped being made the dupe or tool of the infamous Bedloe, who sent for him under pretence of making a confession. Excepting in so far as an excessive timidity influenced him, he appears to have acted in his high office with exemplary justice and wisdom. He was, indeed, a most faint-hearted judge, which his biographer, as in duty bound, discloses to his honour. He dreaded the trying of a witch, because he disbelieved the crime: and yet feared to offend the superstitious vulgar. On this nice subject, our author observes

"It is seldom that a poor old wretch is brought to trial upon that account, but there is, at the heels of her, a popular rage that does little less than demand her to be put to death: and, if a judge is so clear and open as to declare against that impious vulgar opinion, that the devil himself has power to torment and kill innocent children, or that he is pleased to divert himself with the good people's cheese, butter, pigs, and geese, and the like errors of the ignorant and foolish rabble; the countrymen (the triers) cry this judge hath no religion, for he doth not believe witches; and so, to show they have some, hang the poor wretches. All which tendency to mistake, requires a very prudent and moderate carriage in a judge, whereby to convince, rather by detecting of the fraud, than by denying authoritatively such power to be given to old women."

His lordship did, indeed, whenever he could, lay open the imposture, and procure the acquittal of witches. But when Mr. Justice Raymond and he went the circuit together, and his co-judge condemned two women to death for the crime, he appears to have contented himself, "with concern, that his brother Raymond's passive behaviour should let them die," without himself making any effort to save them.

"As to the business of lies and libels, which, in those days, were an intolerable vexation to the court, especially finding that the commu nity of gentle and simple strangely ran in with them; it was moved that there should be more messengers of the press, and spies, who should discover secret printing-houses, (which, then, were against law,) and take up the hawkers that sold libels, and all other persons that dispersed them, and inflict severe punishments on all that were found guilty. But his lordship was of a very different opinion, and said that this prosecution would make them but the more inquired after; and it was impossible to hinder the promulgation of libels; for the greediness of every one to get them, and the high price, would make men, of desperate fortunes, venture any thing: and, in such cases, punishments never regulate the abuse; but it must be done, if at all, by methods undermining the encouragement: yet, if any were caught, he thought it was fit to make severe examples of them. But an extraordinary inquisition to be set up, and make so much noise, and the punishment falling, as was most likely, not on the authors and abettors, but some poor wretches that sought to get a penny by selling them, would, as he thought, rather incense than abate the abuse. His notion was, that his majesty should order nothing extraordinary, to make people imagine he was touched to the quick; but to set up counter writers that as every libel came out should take it to task, and answer it. And, so, all the diurnal lies of the town also would be met with: for said he, either we are in the wrong, or in the right; if the former, we must do as usurped powers, use force, and crush all our enemies right or wrong. But there is no need of that, for we are in the right for who will pretend not to own his majesty's authority according to law? And nothing is done, by his majesty and his ministers, but what the law will warrant, and what should we be afraid of? Let them lie and accuse till they are weary, while we declare at the same time, us may be done with demonstration, that all they say is false and unjust; and the better sort of the people whom truth sways, when laid before them, will be with us. This counsel was followed; and some clever writers were employed, such as were called the Observator and Heraclitus, for a constancy, and others, with them, occasionally; and then they soon wrote the libellers out of the pit, and during that king's life, the trade of libels, which before had been in great request, fell to nothing."

Mr. North, notwithstanding the liberality of some of his opinions, was made a privy counsellor, and some time after Lord Keeper of the Great Seal. He opposed Jeffries, the cele brated Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench, with mildness and caution, and secured and used wisely the esteem of his sovereign. He appears to have foreseen, that the consequence of the violent and arbitrary measures, which he was unable to prevent, would, if continued, work the downfall of the Stuart family. His private life was temperate and regular, un

And

he was, to his last breath, true as steel to the
principles of the times when he began his
career. Sir William Scraggs, the fierce vo-
luptuary and outrageous politician, is softened
to us by the single engaging touch, that "in
his house every day was a holyday."
Jeffries himself, as exhibited here, seems to
have had something of real human warmth
within him, which redeems him from utter
hatred. The following is a summary of his
character.

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tainted with the vices of the times. His bro- | due acknowledgment of his learning, and that ther-in-law, actually fearing his virtue might be visited as a libel on the court, seriously advised him to keep a mistress in his own defence; "for he understood, from very great men, that he was ill looked upon for want of doing so; because he seemed continually to reprehend them;" which notable advice was concluded by an offer, "that, if his lordship pleased, he would help him to one." His lordship's regard to virtue, as well as his usual caution, which told him, "there was no spy like a female," made him regard this proffer His friendship and conversation lay much with a scorn, which utterly puzzled his adviser. among the good fellows and humourists; and He was, however, tremulously alive to ridicule. his delights were, accordingly, drinking, laughAware of this infirmity, Jeffries and the Earling, singing, kissing, and all the extravagancies of Sunderland took advantage of a harmless of the bottle. He had a set of banterers, for visit he made to see a rhinoceros, to circulate the most part, near him; as, in old time, great a report that he had ridden on the animal. men kept fools to make them merry. And This threw him into a state of rage and vexa- these fellows, abusing one another and their tion truly surprising; he turned on his ques- betters, were a regale to him. And no friendtioners with unexampled fury, was seriously ship or dearness could be so great, in private, angry with Sir Dudley North for not contra- which he would not use ill, and to an extrava-› dicting it with sufficient gravity, and sent for gant degree, in public. No one, that had any him that he might add his testimony to his expectations from him, was safe from his own solemn denial. His biographer, who ac- public contempt and derision, which some of tually performs the duty of confidante, as de- his minions at the bar bitterly felt. Those scribed in The Critic, to laugh, weep, or go mad above, or that could hurt or benefit him, and with the principal, is also in a towering pas- none else, might depend on fair quarters at sion at the charge. He calls it," an impudent his hands. When he was in temper, and matters buffoon lie, which Satan himself would not indifferent came before him, he became his seat of have owned for his legitimate issue;" and is justice better than any other I ever saw in his place. provoked beyond measure, that "the noble He took a pleasure in mortifying fraudulent Earl, with Jeffries, and others of that crew, attorneys, and would deal forth his severities made merry, and never blushed at the lie of with a sort of majesty. He had extraordinary their own making; but valued themselves natural abilities, but little acquired, beyond upon it, as a very good jest." He was afflicted what practice in affairs had supplied. He by no other "great calumny," notwithstanding talked fluently, and with spirit; and his weakthe watchfulness of his foes. One of his last ness was that he could not reprehend without public acts was to stop the bloody proceedings scolding; and in such Billingsgate language, of Jeffries in the West, which he did by his as should not come out of the mouth of any influence with the king. He did not long sur- man. He called it giving a lick with the rough vive the profligate prince, whom he sometimes side of his tongue. It was ordinary to hear him was able to guide and to soften. He walked say, Go, you are a fikhy, lousy, nitty rascal; with in the coronation of James the Second, when much more of like elegance. Scarce a day imperfectly recovered from a fever; and, after passed that he did not chide some one, or other, a gradual decline of some months, expired at of the bar, when he sat in the Chancery; and his house at Wroxton, really hurried to the it was commonly a lecture of a quarter of an grave by the political broils and vexations at-hour long. And they used to say, This is yours; tendant on the Great Seal. "That pestiferous lump of metal," as our author terms it, was given to Jeffries, whom it did not save from an end more disastrous and fearful.

my turn will be to-morrow. He seemed to lay nothing of his business to heart, nor care what he did, or left undone; and spent, in the Chancery court, what time he thought fit to spare. The work before us, as we have already in- Many times, on days of causes at his house, timated, is rendered more interesting by the the company have waited five hours in a mornadmirable characters which it contains of the ing, and, after eleven, he hath come out inflamed old lawyers. These are all drawn, not only and staring like one distracted. And that visage with great and most felicitous distinctness, but he put on when he animadverted on such as he are touched in a mild, gentlemanly, and hu- took offence at, which made him a terror to real mane spirit, which it is refreshing to recog-offenders; whom also he terrified with his face nise in these days of acrimony and slander. and voice, as if the thunder of the day of judgment Even those who were most opposed in interest broke over their heads: and nothing ever made and in prejudice to the author, receive ample men tremble like his vocal inflictions. He justice from his hands. Hale, whose dislike loved to insult, and was bold without check;' to the court rendered him obnoxious to the but that only when his place was uppermost. author, or, which is the same thing, to his bro-To give an instance. A city attorney was pether, is drawn at full length in all his austere majesty. Even Serjeant Maynard, the acknowledged "anti-restoration lawyer," whose praise was in all the conventicles, and who was a hard rival of "his lordship," receives

titioned against for some abuse; and affidavit was made that when he was told of my lord chancellor, My lord chancellor, said he, I made him; meaning his being a means to bring him early into city business. When this affidavit

was read, Well, said the lord chancellor, then I will lay my maker by the heels. And, with that conceit, one of his best old friends went to jail. One of these intemperances was fatal to him. There was a scrivener of Wapping brought to hearing for relief against a bummery bond; the contingency of losing all being showed, the bill was going to be dismissed. But one of the plaintiff's counsel said that he was a strange fellow, and sometimes went to church, sometimes to conventicles; and none could tell what to make of him; and it was thought he was a trimmer. At that the chancellor fired; and, A trimmer! said he; I have heard much of that monster, but never saw one. Come forth, Mr. Trimmer, turn you round, and let us see your shape: and, at that rate, talked so long that the poor fellow was ready to drop under him; but, at last the bill was dismissed with costs, and he went his way. In the hall, one of his friends asked him how he came off? Came off, said he, I am escaped from the terrors of that man's face, which I would scarce undergo again to save my life; I shall certainly have the frightful impression of it as long as I live. Afterwards, when the Prince of Orange came, and all was in confusion, this lord chancellor, being very obnoxious, disguised himself in order to go beyond sea. He was in a seaman's garb, and drinking a pot in a cellar. This scrivener came into the cellar after some of his clients and his eye caught that face, which made him start; and the chancellor seeing himself eyed, feigned a cough, and turned to the wall with his pot in his hand. But Mr. Trimmer went out, and gave notice that he was there; whereupon the mob flowed in, and he was in extreme hazard of his life; but the lord mayor saved him and lost himself. For the chancellor being hurried with such crowd and noise before him, and appearing so dismally, not only disguised, but disordered; and there having been an amity between them, as also a veneration on the lord mayor's part, he had not spirits to sustain the shock, but fell down in a swoon; and, in not many hours after, died. But this Lord Jeffries came to the seal without any concern at the weight of duty incumbent upon him; for, at the first, being merry over a bottle with some of his old friends, one of them told him that he would find the business heavy. No, said he, I'll make it light. But, to conclude with a strange inconsistency, he would drink and be merry, kiss and slaver, with these bon companions over night, as the way of such is, and the next day fall upon them, ranting and scolding with a virulence unsufferable."

But the richest portion of these volumes is the character of the Lord Chief Justice Saunders, the author of the Reports which Mr. Serjeant Williams has rendered popular by clustering about them the products of his learned industry. He has a better immortality in the memoir. What a picture is exhibited of the stoutest industry, joined with the most luxurious spirit of enjoyment—of the most intense acquaintance with nice technicalities and the most bounteous humour-of more distressing infirmities and scarcely less wit than those of Falstaff! What a singular being is herewhat a laborious, acute, happy and affectionate

spirit in a loathsome frame !-But, we forget; -we are indulging ourselves, when we ought to gratify our readers.

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The Lord Chief Justice Saunders succeeded in the room of Pemberton. His character, and his beginning, were equally strange. He was at first no better than a poor beggar boy, if not a parish foundling, without known parents or relations. He had found a way to live by obsequiousness (in Clement's-Inn, as I remember) and courting the attorney's clerks for scraps. The extraordinary observance and diligence of the boy made the society willing to do him good. He appeared very ambitious to learn to write; and one of the attorneys got a board knocked up at a window on the top of a staircase; and that was his desk, where he sat and wrote after copies of court and other hands the clerks gave him. He made himself so expert a writer that he took in business, and earned some pence by hackney writing. And thus, by degrees, he pushed his faculties, and fell to forms, and, by books that were lent him, became an exquisite entering clerk; and by the same course of improvement of himself, an able counsel, first in special pleading, then, at large. And, after he was called to the bar, had practice, in the King's Bench court, equal with any there. As to his person, he was very corpulent and beastly; a mere lump of morbid flesh. He used to say, by his troggs, (such a humorous way of talking he affected,) none could say he wanted issue of his body, for he had nine in his back. He was a fetid mass that offended his neighbours at the bar in the sharpest degree. Those, whose ill fortune it was to stand near him, were confessors, and, in summer-time, almost martyrs. This hateful decay of his carcass came upon him by continued sottishness; for, to say nothing of brandy, he was seldom without a pot of ale at his nose, or near him. That exercise was all he used; the rest of his life was sitting at his desk, or piping at home; and that home was a tailor's house in Butcher-Row, called his lodging, and the man's wife was his nurse, or worse; but by virtue of his money, of which he made little account, though he got a great deal, he soon became master of the family; and, being no changeling, he never removed, but was true to his friends, and they to him, to the last hour of his life.

His

"So much for his person and education. As for his parts, none had them more lively than he. Wit and repartee, in an affected rusticity, was natural to him. He was ever ready, and never at a loss; and none came so near as he to be a match for Serjeant Maynard. great dexterity was in the art of special pleading, and he would lay snares that often caught his superiors, who were not aware of his traps. And he was so fond of success for his clients that, rather than fail, he would set the court hard with a trick; for which he met sometimes with a reprimand, which he would wittily ward off, so that no one was much offended with him. But Hales could not bear his irregularity of life; and for that, and suspicion of his tricks, used to bear hard upon him in the court. But no ill usage from the bench was too hard for his hold of business, being such as scarce

any could do but himself. With all this, he | had a goodness of nature and disposition in so great a degree that he may be deservedly styled a philanthrope. He was a very Silenus to the boys, as, in this place, I may term the students of the law, to make them merry whenever they had a mind to it. He had nothing of rigid or austere in him. If any, near him at the bar, grumbled at his stench, he ever converted the complaint into content and laughing with the abundance of his wit. As to his ordinary dealing, he was as honest as the driven snow was white; and why not, having no regard for money, nor desire to be rich! And, for good nature and condescension, there was not his fellow. I have seen him, for hours and half hours together, before the court sat, stand at the bar, with an audience of students over against him, putting of cases, and debating so as suited their capacities, and encouraging their industry. And so in the Temple, he seldom moved without a parcel of youths hanging about him, and he merry and jesting with them.

"It will be readily conceived that this man was never cut out to be a presbyter, or any thing that is severe and crabbed. In no time did he lean to faction, but did his business without offence to any. He put off officious talk of government or politics, with jests, and so made his wit a catholicon, or shield, to cover all his weak places and infirmities. When the court fell into a steady course of using the law against all kinds of offenders, this man was taken into the king's business; and had the part of drawing and perusal of almost all indictments and informations that were then to be prosecuted, with the pleadings thereon if any were special; and he had the settling of the large pleadings in the quo warranto against London. His lordship had no sort of conversation with him, but in the way of business, and at the bar; but once after he was in the king's business, he dined with his lordship, and no more. And there he showed another qualification he had acquired, and that was to play jigs upon a harpsichord; having taught himself with the opportunity of an old virginal of his landlady's; but in such a manner, not for, defect but figure, as to see him were a jest. The king, observing him to be of a free disposition, loyal, friendly, and without greediness or guile, thought of him to be the chief justice of the King's Bench at that nice time. And ¦ the ministry could not but approve of it. So great a weight was then at stake, as could not be trusted to men of doubtful principles, or such as any thing might tempt to desert them. While he sat in the Court of King's Bench, he gave the rule to the general satisfaction of the lawyers. But his course of life was so different from what it had been, his business incessant, and, withal, crabbed; and his diet and exercise changed, that the constitution of his body, or head rather, could not sustain it, and ne fell into an apoplexy and palsy, which numbed his parts; and he never recovered the strength of them. He out-lived the judgment in the quo warranto; but was not present, other wise than by sending his opinion, by one of the judges, to be for the king, who, at the pronouncing of the judgment, declared it to be

the court accordingly, which is frequently done in like cases."

Although we have been able to give but a few of the choice peculiarities of these volumes, our readers will be able to gather, from our extracts, that the profession of the law was a very different thing in the reign of Charles the Second, from what it is in the present era. There was something in it more robust and hearty than there is now. Lawyers treated on the dryest subjects, in a "full and heightened style," which now would receive merited ridicule, because it is natural no longer. When Lord Coke "wanders in the wilderness of the laws of the forest"-or stops to “recreate himself with a view of Dido's deer"-or looks on his own fourth Institute, as "the high and honourable building of the jurisdiction of the courts"-we feel that he uses the language of metaphor, merely because he thinks in it. Modern improvement has introduced a division of labour among the faculties. The regions of imagination and of reality are separated by stricter and more definite limits, than in the days of old. Our poems and orations are more wild and extravagant, and our ordinary duties more dry and laborious. Men have learned to refine on their own feelings-to analyze all their sensations-to class all their powers, feelings, and fantasies, as in a museum; and to mark and label them so that they may never be applied, except to appropriate uses. The imagination is only cultivated as a kind of exotic luxury. No one unconsciously writes in a picturesque style, or suffers the colour of his thoughts to suffuse itself over his disquisitions, without caring for the effect on the reader. The rich conceit is either suppressed, or carefully reserved to adorn some cold oration where it may be duly applauded. Our ancestors permitted the wall-flower, when it would, to spread out its sweets from the massive battlement, without thinking there was any thing extraordinary in its growth, or desiring to transplant it to a garden, where it would add little fragrance to the perfume of other flowers.

The study of the law has sunk of late years, Formerly, the path of those by whom it was chosen, though steep and rugged, was clear and open before them. Destitute of adventitious aids, they were compelled to salutary and hopeful toils. They were forced to trace back every doctrine to the principle which was its germ, and to search for their precedents amidst the remotest grandeur of our history. Patient labour was required of them, but their reward was certain. In the most barren and difficult parts of their ascent, they found, at least, in the masses which they surmounted, the stains and colourings of a humanizing antiquity to soften and to dignify their labours. But abridgments, commentaries, and digests without number, have precluded the necessity of these liberal researches, while the vast accumulation of statutes and decisions have' rendered them almost hopeless. Instead of al difficult mountain to ascend, there is a briary labyrinth to penetrate. Wearied out with vain attempts, the student accepts such temporary helps as he can procure, and despairs of re

3

ducing the ever-increasing multitude of deci- increase until it shall work its own curesions to any fixed and intelligible principles. until accumulated reports shall lose their auThus his labours are not directed to a visible thority-or the legislature shall be comgoal-nor cheered by the venerableness of pelled, by the vastness of the mischief, to old time-nor crowned with that certainty of undertake the tremendous task of revising conclusion, which is the best reward of scien- and condensing the whole statute law, and tific researches. The lot of a superficial stu-fixing the construction of the unwritten dent of a dry science, is, of all conditions, the maxims within some tolerable boundaries. most harassing and fruitless. The evil must

REVIEW OF THE DRAMATIC LITERATURE OF THE

AGE OF ELIZABETH.

[EDINBURGH REVIEW.]

Ir Mr. Hazlitt has not generally met with and separates it, in a moment, from all that impartial justice from his contemporaries, we would encumber or deface it. At the same must say that he has himself partly to blame. time, he exhibits to us those hidden sources of Some of the attacks of which he has been the beauty, not like an anatomist, but like a lover: object, have, no doubt, been purely brutal and he does not coolly dissect the form to show the malignant; but others have, in a great measure, springs whence the blood flows all eloquent, arisen from feelings of which he has himself and the divine expression is kindled; but set the example. His seeming carelessness of makes us feel it in the sparkling or softened that public opinion which he would influence eye, the wreathed smile, and the tender bloom. -his love of startling paradoxes-and his in- In a word, he at once analyzes and describes, trusion of political virulence, at seasons when so that our enjoyments of loveliness are not the mind is prepared only for the delicate in- chilled, but brightened, by our acquaintance vestigations of taste, have naturally provoked with their inward sources. The knowledge a good deal of asperity, and prevented the due communicated in his lectures, breaks no sweet appreciation of his powers. We shall strive, enchantment, nor chills one feeling of youthhowever, to divest ourselves of all preposses-ful joy. His criticisms, while they extend our sions, and calmly to estimate those talents and feelings which he has here brought to the contemplation of such beauty and grandeur, as none of the low passions of this "ignorant present time" should ever be permitted to overcloud.

insight into the causes of poetical excellence, teach us, at the same time, more keenly to enjoy, and more fondly to revere it.

It must seem, at first sight, strange, that powers like these should have failed to excite universal sympathy. Much, doubtless, of the Those who regard Mr. Hazlitt as an ordinary coldness and misrepresentation cast on them, writer, have little right to accuse him of suf- has arisen from causes at which we have fering antipathies in philosophy or politics to already hinted-from the apparent readiness influence his critical decisions. He possesses of the author to "give up to party what was one excellent quality, at least, for the office meant for mankind"-and from the occasional which he has chosen, in the intense admira-breaking in of personal animosities on that tion and love which he feels for the great au-deep harmony which should attend the reverent thors on whose excellences he chiefly dwells. contemplation of genius. But we apprehend His relish for their beauties is so keen, that that there are other causes which have diminwhile he describes them, the pleasures which |ished the influence of Mr. Hazliti's faculties, they impart become almost palpable to the originating in his mind itself; and these we pense; and we seem, scarcely in a figure, to shall endeavour briefly to specify. feast and banquet on their "nectared sweets." He introduces us almost corporally into the divine presence of the Great of old time-arrangement, and of harmony, in his powers. enables us to hear the living oracles of wisdom drop from their lips-and makes us partakers, not only of those joys which they diffused, but of those which they felt in the inmost recesses of their souls. He draws aside the veil of Time with a hand tremulous with mingled delight and reverence; and descants, with kindling enthusiasm, on all the delicacies of that picture of genius which he discloses. His intense admiration of intellectual beauty seems always to sharpen his critical faculties. He perceives it, by a kind of intuitive power, how deeply soever it may be buried in rubbish;

The chief of these may, we think, be ascribed primarily to the want of proportion, of

His mind resembles the "rich stronde" which Spencer has so nobly described, and to which he has himself likened the age of Elizabeth, where treasures of every description lie, without order, in inexhaustible profusion. Noble masses of exquisite marble are there, which might be fashioned to support a glorious temple; and gems of peerless lustre, which would adorn the holiest shrine. He has no lack of the deepest feelings, the profoundest sentiments of humanity, or the loftiest aspirations after ideal good. But there are no great leading principles of taste to give singleness to his

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