'D CHANGE OF RESIDENCK 201 would infer from the blunt and downright character of the great art-satirist. In 1760 Reynolds was instrumental, along with others, in establishing an exhibition of works of British artists, in imitation of those which had for many years existed on the Continent. The introduction to the catalogue of this exhibition was written by Dr. Johnson ; in which he enters into a sort of defence of such exhibitions, vindicating the artists from the supposed charge of vanity or selfishness in exhibiting, and asserting that such exhibitions were simply for the benefit of art itself — a position which, absurd in itself, not all the eloquence of Dr. Johnson was able to make credible. A year after this date Reynolds' pecuniary prosperity began to efiloresce in a change of residence from Newport Street to a splendid mansion in Leicester Square; to which house he added a fine gallery for the exhibition of his pictures, finishing with a carriage of more show than taste, the wheels being carved and gilt, and its panels painted with representa- tions of the four seasons. All the brilliant wits and literary celebrities 202 VISIT TO DEVONSHIRE. of the day were accustomed to meet round his table in Leicester Square — Johnson, and Percy, and Goldsmith, and Burke, and Garrick, and even Sterne. Reynolds was munificent as a host, and wine was not wanting in abun- dance to flavour the wit and the sarcasms of that eminent circle. The host counted him- self suiSciently compensated for his liberality, by the confidence and friendship of his guests, and that insight into character and the philo- sophy of human life which could not fail to be obtained from habitual and easy intercourse with such eminent men. It was about this time that he painted his well-known picture of " Garrick between Tragedy and Comedy," — a work which many have praised, but the propriety and principle of which many also have questioned. The incessant labours of Reynolds began to tell upon his health, and in 1762 he repaired for a time to his native county of Devon. It is said that no great enthusiasm greeted him there, ex- cept on the part of a young man who has since become his biographer. Northcote himself mentions that he first saw him at a public meeting, and that he contrived to get as near PECUNIARY SUCCESS. 203 him as possible, so as to be able to touch the hem of his garment, — a circumstance which afforded him immense satisfaction. From his sojourn in Devonshire his health derived great benefit, and he shortly returned to London and to his labours with renovated powers. At this time his reputation was so high, and the demand for his services so great, that he required to employ several young men to assist in the subordinate parts of his pictures. It is said that his profession now yielded him an income of six thousand pounds a year. About this time, however, he was again attacked by an illness of a nervous description, but much more alarming than the previous one. John- son was absent in Northamptonshire, but on hearing of the attack he wrote to him in terms of the warmest respect and sympathy, offering to repair to him without losing a day, if his presence would be of the slightest ser- vice towards the promoting of his recovery; ■' for," said he, " I know not how I can so effectually promote my own pleasure as by pleasing you, or my own interest as by pre- serving you, in whom, if I should lose you, I bhould lose almost the only man whom I can 204 THE ROYAL ACADEMY. call a fiiead." This illness was tedious, but the recovery came, and Reynolds was once more enabled to resume his professional work. In 1765 several important productions came from his easel, among others, portraits of Lady Banbury, Lady Elizabeth Keppel, and Lady Waldegrave, which competent judges pronounced among the finest of his works. The impulse which he had given to art began to tell on the coming generation, and to raise up men who threatened to rival his fame. Barry and West were among these; but theii growing acceptance did not interfere with the popularity of Reynolds, who still maintained his position as the foremost man in British art. Although the name of Reynolds is for ever associated with the Royal Academy as its first president and otherwise, he was by no means one of the most enthusiastic in its origination. He seems to have doubted greatly for a little as to its success, although his sympathy and support were finally secured through the per- suasions of West, Chambers, and others. The Incorporated Society of Artists had existed since 1765, and the existence of this operated as a bt:comes its first presidkxt. 205 barrier in the mind of Ke3^nolds. It had failed, however, in some of its principal ob- jects, and when, in 1768, Reynolds entered the apartment where the thirty who had been nominated as the first members of the Royal Academy were assembled, and when, on his making his appearance, the whole of them rose simultaneousl}^ and hailed him as their first president, he was visibly afiected, and after consultation with his friend Johnson, agreed to accept the honourable oflSce of President. The two leading features of this important institu- tion, which has exerted so powerful an influence on English art, were a school of design for the instruction of students, and an annual exhibi- tion, not only of the works of academicians, but of any other native works of merit ; the expenses being defrayed from the proceeds of the exhibition. There were two honorary offices attached to the Academy, that of Pro- fessor of Ancient Literature and of Ancient His- tory: Jolmson was appointed to the one, and Goldsmith to the other. They were both without duties and without pay, and Gold- smith's remark, on hearing of his appointment, was somewhat characteristic. " I took it," he 206 EEYN olds' " niSCOURSES." says, " rather as a compliment to the institu- tion than any benefit to myself. Honours to one in my situation are something like ruffles to a man who wants a shirt." To the great delight of all the King added his impri- matur to the Academy by conferring upon its president the honour of knighthood. That Sir Joshua would make an excellent and efficient president of the Academy no one doubted; and his earn est desire for its success was soon rendered evident by his voluntarily under- taking to deliver a series of Discourses illus- trative of the great Principles and Methods of Art. Tliese " Discourses " are now well known. They were fifteen in number, all carefully written, and delivered at such intervals that from first to last they were spread over a number of years. They are distinguished for clearness of thought, breadth of view, and variety of knowledge ; and contributed at the time, and have done so ever since, to the dififusion of large and just views with regard to the nature and value of art. A series of papers in " Blackwood's Magazine," about twenty years ago, was devoted to the exposi- tion of them, and may be read with much NORTH COTE. 207 profit by the individual who wishes an intimate acquaintance with the views and feelings on art entertained by Reynolds. To the first exhibition of the Academy Reynolds sent several important works, por- traits of ladies eminent for their rank or beauty, to which, in accordance with a pre- vailing affectation of the times, he affixed names derived from classic mythology. From Northcote, who became his pupil in 1771, and who had ample facilities for forming a judgment, we gather some interesting parti- culars of his domestic and social manners. His admiration of Sir Joshua indeed seems to have been almost unreasonably high. He tells us that he had been accustomed to regard him as the greatest painter that ever lived. He speaks of him as being greatly distin- guished by gentleness of manners and refine- ment of habits ; and he adds that what with these, and the splendour of his establishment, and the extent of his fame, " almost all the men in the three kingdoms who were distinguished in literature, in art, at the bar, in the senate, or in the field, might be occasionally found feast- ing at his social and well-furnished table." 208 SIR Joshua's hospitality. There seems to be some doubt as to the accuracy of this representation, so far as the elegancy of his table was concerned. Courtenay and others speak of his entertainments as having been characterized by abundance much more than by refinement and elegance ; and they represent his sister, who lived with him^ notwithstanding that wit and genial kindness and humour which won the hearts of all, and especially that of the stern lexicographer, as being far from particular in the equipment and order of her table. No doubt, however, has been thrown upon the copiousness of the supplies ; and this, with many, would doubt- less go far to obliterate other defects. By this time Eeynolds had raised the price of his portraits to thirty-five guineas, without any diminution of the demand. He paid a short visit to Paris, the precise object and effect of which are equally unknown. In July 1773 he visited Oxford, and had conferred on him the degree of Doctor of Civil Law. Dr. Beattie, the author of a work on the "Immutability of Truth," was held by Reynolds in high esteem, and about this time he painted his celebrated portrait of him with accessories ALLEGORICAL "WORK. 209 which gave the whole an allegorical meaning. It was severely criticised by Goldsmith in the presence of the artist, as an instance of open flattery to a person whose reputation did not entitle him to it, and, at the same time, of injustice to much greater men, namely, Voltaire, Hume, and Gibbon, resemblances to whom Goldsmith professed to see in those personages introduced into the picture under the names of Scepticism, Sophistry, and Infidelity, and who were represented as being overpowered by the angel of Truth. Among other things, Goldsmith told the artist that Beattie and his book would be forgotten in ten years, but " your allegorical picture and Voltaire will live to your disgrace as a flatterer." Goldsmith might be honest enough in this rebuke, but the principle of it was wrong. It was not necessarily a personal homage to Beattie, but simply to that Truth of which Beattie, up to the measure of his ability, was the repre- sentative and champion ; and Reynolds was embodying on his canvas no more than was absolutely certain, — that Truth must ulti- mately triumph over Infidelity and every form of en'or. (107) 14 210 ELECTED MEMBER OF FLORENCE ACADEMY. The death of Oliver Goldsmith took place in 1774; by which event Sir Joshua lost a true-hearted though somewhat eccentric friend. It is said that he was considerably affected by it, and that he did not " touch his pencil for a whole day after it;" — not a very extreme mark of grief, we should say, for the loss of a friend, and yet it was so accounted by those who knew the habits of Reynolds. He further testified his respect for his friend ly directing his funeral, and by actiiog as executor on his estate, if estate it might be called where estate was none — unless a huge debt and a confused mass of papers might be so desig- nated. About this time Sir Joshua painted the portraits of the members of the Dilettanti Club. He was elected a member of the Academy of Florence, and presented that body with a portrait of himself, painted by his own hand. This portrait is said to have raised the British school of art in the estimation of the Florentines. He was attacked as a plagiarist by a fellow-painter of the name of Hone, envious of his fame, — an attack which roused the indic^nation of his friends more SIR JOSHUA AND DEAN TUCKKR. 211 than it disturbed Reynolds himself. This was succeeded by some sharp criticism on the evanescence of several of the colours which he was fond of using, and which seems to have been warranted, as Sir Joshua, after a considerable time, and when he saw that some of his pictures were manifestly dete- riorating, made up his mind to abandon them. In 1777 seven of his Discourses on Art were collected into a volume, and inscribed to the King , with an elaborate preface. His en- thusiasm for his art was greatly offended by a remark (certainly not to be expected from a man in the position of him who made it) which fell from the lips of Dr. Tucker, the Dean of Gloucester, to the effect that " a 2}in- maker was a more useful and valuable member of society than Raphael." Sir Joshua's reply, when it was reported to him, is worth notice. " That is an observation," he said, " of a very naiTOw mind ; a mind that is confined to the mere objects of commerce — that sees with a microscopic eye but a part of the great machine of the economy of life, and thinks that small part of it which he sees, the whole. Commerce Is the means, not the end of happi- 212 IMPORTANT WORKS. ness or pleasure ; the end is a rational enjoy- ment by means of arts and sciences. It is therefore the highest degree of folly to set the means in a higher esteem than the end. It is as much as to say that the brick-maker is superior to the architect." Keynolds had now attained the ripe age of fifty-four, and although he had secured both fame and fortune, his professional labours suf- fered no diminution. His price for a portrait was now fifty guineas, and the demands upon his pencil were as great as ever. He exhibited in 1780 a number of excellent pictures in the gallery at Somerset House, to which place the Royal Academy was that year removed. These were portraits of Miss Beauclerc as the Una of Spenser, and heads of Gibbon the historian and Lady Beaumont. During this year also he was engaged on a series of allegorical pictures for the window of the New College Chapel at Oxford. These were seven personi- fications of the virtues. Faith, Hope, Charity, Temperance, &c. Shortly after this he made a visit to the Continent, and inspected some of its eminent galleries. After a short time he returned to London. His health continued APPOINTED king's PAINTER. 213 vigorous till he was fifty-eight years of age, when, however, he was prostrated by a shock of paralysis. From this shock, which was comparatively a slight one, he soon recovered. Upon the death of Allan Ramsay in 1784, Reynolds succeeded him in the ofiice of King's Painter — an office which could bring him neither fame nor emolument, as by this time he was largely in possession of both, and the salary attached to the ofiice was only nominal, being fifty pounds a yeai\ Never- theless, at the desire of his Sovereign, he ac- cepted it. His principal pictures this year were the Fortune-teller, the portrait of Mrs. Siddons as the Tragic Muse, and his portrait of Miss Kemble. These are regarded as among his most eminent works. But if this was a year of honour and fame, it was also one of serious trial and loss. His great friend, with whom he had been on terms of the closest intimacy for many years, Dr. Johnson, died on December 13th of this year. As was to have been expected, Sir Joshua felt this to be a very heavy blow. There is an affecting circumstance, highly creditable to Johnson, mentioned in connection with his last illness. 214 I LLUSTPvATIONS OF SHAKESPEARE. A day before his death he said to Reynolds, " I have three requests to make, and I beg that you will attend to them, Sir Joshua: forgive me thirty pounds, which I borrowed from you; read the Scriptures; and abstain from using your pencil on the Sabbath-day." Reynolds promised for all three, and, it is said, scrupulously kept his promise. In 1786 he painted a subject from the Greek mythology — the Infant Hercules strang- ling the Serpents — for Catherine of Russia, and for which he received from that Empress fifteen hundred guineas, together with a gold box bearing her portrait set in diamonds. His next important works were a series of illustrations of Shakespeare, intended to fur- nish engravings for a new edition of the great dramatist, projected by Boy dell. These were three in number, on the subjects of Puck, Macbeth and the Witches, and the Death of Cardinal Beaufort. Thus did this eminent man continue in the strength of his powers, and in the diligent practice of his art, until he had attained to his sixty-sixth year, when, to the dismay of himself and friends, he was suddenly incapacitated by a mysterious ail- HIS LAST ADDRESS TO THE ACADEMY. 215 ment for all further work. " One clay," says one of his biographers, " in the month of July 1789, while finishing the portrait of the Marchioness of Hertford, he felt a sudden decay of sight in his left eye. He laid down the pencil, sat a little while in mute consid- eration, and never lifted it more." This sad and sudden eclipse never passed away. He lost entirely the sight of his left eye, and that of the other was considerably weakened ; and so his long and prosperous career as an artist was unexpectedly brought to a close. In December of the following year he de- livered his last address at the Royal Academy, and on that occasion reiterated for the last time his unbounded admiration of Michael Anc^elo, statinrj that he desired that the latest words from his lips to the Academy should be the name of that illustrious artist. He lived little more than a year afterwards. His in- firmities increased so as to confine him very much to the house, and he died at Leicester Square on the 23rd of February 1792, in the sixty-ninth year of his age. He was buried in St. Paul's, near the tomb of the architect of the building, Sir Christopher Wren. 216 CHARACTER AND INFLUENCE. In addition to his great fame as a painter, he was not without weight and popularity as a writer. lu this department, indeed, his efforts were of necessity only occasional. Be- sides his well-known " Discourses on Ai-t," he has left behind him a " Tour to Flanders and Holland," consisting of remarks on paintings seen by him in these countries in 1781; also " Notes on Du Fresnoy's Poem," and three papers in the " Idler." Altogether he was a man not only of eminent ability, but of ex- traordinary perseverance and concentration of aim. From the first impulses of his boyhood in the direction of art he never diverged. He yielded to the instinct within him, but he did not content himself with simply doing that — he followed it up by diligent study and cul- ture; and he reaped his reward in a life of honour and prosperity up to the largest wish of his heart, and he will ever remain a striking and instructive example of how much may be done by beginning early in life in the work for which nature has fitted us, and by adher- ing to that course with steadfastness and per- severance to the end IX. Sir llattljtiij inle. I'HE life of this great and good man might be looked upon, at first sight, as in some degree opposed to the truth which this book is intended to illustrate, inasmuch as it shows in him for a short time a tendency to habits very different from those by which he was ultimately and greatly dis- tinguished. But the discrepancy is in appear- ance only, not in reality; since the fact of his yielding to gay frivolities for a brief space was a natural, and almost inevitable, reaction in one who had been subjected previously, and while still very young, to an unnaturally i-igid re- straint. The natural solidity of his character speedily recovered itself from this exceptional condition, and the seriousness which marked even his boyhood regained the ascendant, and steadily deepened into that exemplary piety 21S hale's birth and parentage. by which the whole of his subsequent life was rendered so beautifully conspicuous. He was born on the 1st of November 1609, at the village of Alderly, in Gloucestershire. His father was a barrister of Lincoln's Inn, and his mother belonged to the ancient and respectable family of Poyntz, of Iron Acton. It is seldom that we have to record such tender sensibility of conscience as belonged to the elder Hale, he having felt himself con- strained to withdraw from his profession, the practice of which being, in his opinion, scarcely consistent with the rigid observance of truth. He seems to have felt himself occasionally brought into circumstances where he could not do the most which was possible for his client and preserve, at the same time, that amount of self-respect which was necessary to his peace of mind. Some may be inclined to smile at this as a weakness, but it is impossible not to admire the fine principle of conscientiousness in which it had its root. His illustrious son was visited with the great calamity of the loss of both his parents at a very early period. First his mother died before he was three years old; and about a SENT TO A PURITAN SCHOOL. 219 year after, his father. The immediate effect of this double deprivation was to place the young orphan (in terms of his father's will) under the care of a near relative resident in the same county of Gloucestershire ; who being a rigid Puritan, sent him to a school belonging to that party, with the intention that he should become a clergyman. This school was per- vaded by the austerity of discipline which was characteristic of the Puritans, and which placed an unwise, because an unnatural, restraint upon the feelings and instincts of boyhood. The consequence was, that when set free from this bondage by being sent to the university, he was easily led into the opposite extreme. Not that even then there was anything like gross vice discernible in his conduct ; but he seems to have had a fondness for theatrical amuse- ments, and athletic sports, while he abandoned the idea of the clerical profession. At first he thought of devoting himself to a military life, but circumstances turned him aside from this ; and an eminent lawyer having been brought into contact with him in connection with some dispute about his succession to his father's property, and having been greatly impressed 220 RELIGIOUS FEELING EEVIVED. with the subtlety and clearness of his judgment, strongly advised him to devote himself to the legal profession. This good advice he accepted, was enrolled in the society of Lincoln's Inn in 1629, and gave himself up so heartily to his studies that he is said to have read for a con- siderable period at the rate of sixteen hours a day. The religious element in his character, which had shown itself in his boyhood, but which had been for some time in abeyance, was sud- denly roused at this stage of his career. He was present at a meeting of some students in a tavern in the outskirts of London ; when in the midst of their entertainment, one young man who had drunk to excess fell from his chair in a lit, and was for some time supposed to be dead. Hale assisted his companions in their endeavours to restore him, which were partially successful ; but he was so struck by the incident that he immediately withdrew to another apartment, earnestly engaged in prayer to God for the recovery of the young man, while he supplicated grace for himself to be enabled to carry out the resolution which he now adopted, to withhold himself from all PROGRESS IN LEGAL STUDIES. 221 participation in such scenes for the future, and no more to encourage those customs which foster intemperance, such as drinking healths, fcc, as long as he lived. This resolution he kept, but it has been said that it was a source of no little annoyance to him when the Restora- tion of Charles II. inaugurated the reififn of excess in every form, and when the drinking of the King's health even to intoxication was held as one of "the tests of loyalty in politics, and orthodoxy in religion." Nothing could be more satisfactory than the progress which he continued to make in his legal studies. It fully vindicated the antici- pations of his learned friend who had first pointed his thoughts in that direction, while it secured for him the respect and influence of the most distinguished members of the le£:al profession of the day. Among others to whom he thus became favourably known was the illustrious John Selden, whose influence upon young Hale was of the most beneficial kind. His own largeness of mind and richness of culture led him to see that the exclusive studies of Hale, although thoy might make him great iti the technicalities of law, would still leave 222 BKUINS PRACTICE. him devoid of much that was necessary to constitute him a great lawyer ; and hence he strongly advised liim to widen the sphere and range of his reading, and along with the techni- cal details of law, to enrich his mind by a large and general culture. It was one of the excellences of young Hale's character that he was so open to good advice, by whomsoever it might be tendered ; and immediately after this contact with Selde i we find him plunging into a variety of studies which he had hitherto overlooked ; studies in theology, physiology, and anatomy, and regarding which he was enabled to give after-proof to the world that his acquaintance with them was by no means of a superficial nature. While there is some doubt as to the exact period when he was called to the bar, it is generally believed that he entered upon the actual practice of his profession about the yeai- 1636 He must have rapidly risen to emi- nence as a barrister, since he is mentioned in connection with important State trials so early as 1 640. In the trial of Lord Strafibrd, which took place that year, his name is to be found. There are numerous other instances where his TAKES PART IN ECCLESIASTICAL MATTERS. 223 services were called for, during the following years ; — as, for example, in the trial of Laud in 1643; that of the eleven members in 1647; and, after the death of Charles I., in that of the Duke of Hamilton, who was impeached for treason in taking up arms against the Parliament. It is impossible, in short, to glance at the great trials of that stirring period with- out perceiving that he must have held a fore- most place, both for ability and conscientious- ness, among the professional men of his time. He was one of those laymen who took part in ecclesiastical matters in 1 6 4 3, having taken the Covenant as prescribed by the Parliament, and appearing occasionally with other non- clerics in the Assembly of Divines. In 1651 he took the " Engagement to be faithful and true to the Commonwealth without a King and House of Lords." This concession on his part secured for him certain advantages, although it would scarcely be fair to assert that it was for the sake of these advantages that liis compliance was given. He was permitted to practise at the bar, and was shortly afterwards appointed a member of the Commission for taking steps towards the amendinff the law. While such 224 Cromwell's dksire for his services. details of the proceedings of this Commission as are necessary to enable us to form a definite opinion of its results are wanting, sufficient is known, from the difference between the machinery of law courts before and during the Commonwealth, to warrant the conclu- sion that they had applied themselves to the work with earnestness and success. Such a Btep was indeed highly necessary at the time, and contributed not a little to strengthen the government of Cromwell ; for that bold and shrewd man had sagacity enough to perceive the importance of enlisting the influence and services of such men as Hale, and even of using every endeavour to overcome the reluctance which he manifested, for a time, to join a Com- mission held from one who had arrived at supreme power in so abnormal a manner. This reluctance was conquered only after many entreaties. He was raised to the Bench of the Court of Common Pleas in January 1653. Not long after this he sat as one of the knights of the shire, for the county of Gloucester, in Cromwell's first Parliament of five months; and although he does not seem to have taken a very active share in its pro- HIS INTEGRITY AS A JUDGE. 225 ceedings, he was enabled to defeat the fanatical and barbarous proposal of some zealots for the Commonwealth, to destroy the public records in the Tower and other places of deposit, as useless relics of a form of government and society which had passed away. The clear- ness of statement, and the cogency of reason- ing, with which he set forth the mischief and folly of such a proposal, were such as to carry the House with him, so that the originators of the scheme were constrained to withdraw it. There is abundant evidence that he was not a republican at heart, although he accepted the Kepublic as a temporary necessity of the times ; and all parties allow that the whole of his conduct, especially in the administration of justice, was characterized by the highest honour, and a noble independence of spirit. Everything like interference with the free course of justice he firmly resisted, allowing no dictation, even on the part of Cromwell himself; and on one occasion when he learned that the jury was packed at his instance, he discharged them, and positively refused to try the case. It is stated that for this noble act Cromwell indignantly reprimanded him, telling (107) 15 226 TFIE RECALL OF CHARLES 11. him that " he was not fit to be a judge;" to which he calmly replied, that " it was very true." He continued to hold his position as a Judge of the Common Pleas, till the death of Crom- well, but he declined to receive any new com- mission from his successor, Richard Cromwell ; and although great influence was brought to bear upon him, it was of no avail. He kept his resolution, saying that " he would act no longer under such authority." Little doubt is now entertained, that had the advice of Hale been followed on the abdica- tion of Richard Cromwell, with reference to the best mode of procedure in recalling Charles II., many serious evils, connected with the " wicked, turbulent, and sanguinary reign " of that monarch, might have been avoided. He had been again returned by his native county to act as a member of that Parliament, or Convention, by which the restoration of Charles was to be accomplished. It was sug- gested by Hale, that the recall should not ba of a simple and absolute nature, but should be accompanied with such conditions as would serve to put some restraint upon the wayward bale's restoration policy. 227 and selfish tendencies of tlie King; that, for this purpose, a committee should be appointed, for the purpose of considering the concessions which had been offered by Charles I. during the war, in order to their being made the basis of proposals, to be drawn up and formally pre- sented, for his acceptance, to the King. This important suggestion, which the well-known character of Charles rendered so obviously necessary, was, on the motion of Monk, rejected almost unanimously by the Convention, on the ground that the army and the nation at large were in such an unsettled condition, that the most calamitous consequences might follow upon the delay which should thus be occasioned, and that there was a pressing necessity for an immediate settlement of the government. There was much plausibility in these con- siderations, and yet the whole current of after events, culminating in a second Revolution within thirty years, showed that the festina lente policy of Hale, with a view to securing some palpable check upon Charles, would have been the wiser course to have followed. The settlement of the nation might have been some- what delayed, but it would have been more 228 OFFERED THE CHIEF BARONSHIP, satisliictoiy, and more likely to last when it came. The Restoration took place, as is well known, in the month of May 1660, when the Lord Chancellorship was given to Lord Clarendon. This sagacious and eminent man left no means untried in order to impart stability and moral weight to the new admini- stration; and among these means was his endeavour to fill all the high places of justice with men of the loftiest character he could find. Amono^ others Hale was one whom he greatly desired to see in a position of promi- nence, and he accordingly ofiered him the appointment of Lord Chief Baron. The anxieties and labours of public life, however, had by this time become irksome to him, and for a considerable time he refused the appointment. He had never ceased to attend to the duties of religion, and these had become more a part of his life now than ever. He was exceedingly averse to undertake any duties which would abbreviate his opportunities for attending to these. In a collection of his law tracts, published by Mr. Hargrave, we find a curious and inter- esting paper from Hale's own hand, in which HIS REASONS FOR DECLINING IT. 229 he sets forth, with characteristic honesty and simpHcity, his various reasons for desiring ex- emption from any place in the public service. One of these is, " the smallness of his estate, being not above £500 per annum, six children unprovided for, and a debt of £1000 lying upon him." We should have been inclined to think that this would have been a reason for accepting office, rather than refusing it ; but it is evident that at that time the emolu- ments of such offices were small, while the incidental expenses were so great, tliat, to a man of independence and integrity, the latter more than counterbalanced the former. An- other reason was, that " he was not so well able to endure travel and pains as formerly; that his constitution of body required some ease and relaxation;" — and to this he added, that " he had of late time declined the study of the law, and principally applied himself to other studies, now more easy, grateful, and seasonable for him." Two of what he curiously enough calls " infirmities " are next alluded to, as tending to disqualify him for such avocations; "first, an aversion to the pomp and grandeur necessarily incident to 230 ULTIMATELY ACCEPTS. them ; and secondly, too much piety, clemency, and tenderness, in cases of life, which might prove an unserviceable temper." It has been said that when a man advances a number of reasons for any particular course, he is more likely to be over-ruled in his decision, and induced to change his mind, than when he takes his stand only upon one. So it was, at all events, in this case with Hale ; for, after all, his scruples were overcome, and on the 7th of November he accepted the appointment of Lord Chief Baron. Lord Clarendon was pleased to compliment him on the occasion, stating, as he handed him his commission, that " if the King could have found an honester and fitter man for that employ- ment, he would not have advanced him to it; and that he had therefore preferred him because he knew no other who deserved it so well." To his other honours was added, some time after this, that of knighthood, which it required some effort to make him accept. Some confusion of opinion has arisen in connection with the name of Sir Matthew Hale and the trial of the regicides, which took place in the month of October preceding his ap- HIS DErORTMENT IN THE OFFICE. 231 pointment as Lord Chief Baron, in consequence of his name being found among the commis- sioners on that occasion. From its absence, however, from all the reports of the trial, it is evident that he took no part in the proceed- ings ; the name of Hale, as well as those of the two other judges elect, having been merely entered in the commission as a matter of form, while their patents were not made out till the followincr term. The office of Lord Chief Baron was held by him for eleven years, and all parties admit that his whole deportment, both as a private individual and as a judge, was of such an exemplary nature, as not only to maintain his own high reputation, but greatly to exalt that of the court over which he pre- sided. He was remarkably impartial in his decisions, and never more so than in those Exchequer cases where the interests of the Crown were involved. That his opinions were not always enlight- ened and wise, must, of course, be admitted. He seems to have shared, for example, in the prevalent opinion of the times respecting witchcraft ; and this led to a judicial utterance on one occasion which involved serious results, 232 THE REBUILDING OF LOMDON. and led to much severe remark. Two women had been put upon their trial for witchcraft at the assizes of Bury St. Edmunds, in the year 1665, when the Chief Earon is alleged to have stated to the jury, that " he made no doubt at all that there were such creatures as witches;" — a sentiment which, proceeding from a judge so highly respected, no doubt contributed to the deplorable verdict which brought them in guilty, involving a capital sentence, which was actually carried into effect. He took a great interest in the rebuilding of the city of London, after the wide-spread conflagration of 1666. One of the clauses in the Act of Parliament bearing on this, em- powered the judges to sit singly as adjudicators, in cases of compensation to parties whose property might be interfered with in the course of carrying out the plan. None of them entered into these labours with such enthusiasm as Hale. His zeal was great, and the more praise- worthy that these were extra-judicial labours, for which no remuneration was pro- vided. We should scarcely have expected at this time of life, when his infirmities were increas- LORD CHIEF JUSTICE. 233 ing upou him, that he would have been in- duced to accept a still more laborious and responsible office. And yet such was the case; for on the death of Sir John Kelyng, in 1671, he became his successor, as Lord Chief Justice of the Court of King's Bench. He was equally exemplary in his attention to his duties in this capacity, so long as his strength permitted, and his name is found in all the reported cases which came before that court, till the end of 1675. But the period of his public usefulness was now far advanced, and was speedily brought to a close by an inflammatory attack, which prostrated his strength, and depressed his spirits, so that he constantly asserted the impossibility of his recovery. He immediately resolved to give up his commission, and applied to the Lord Keeper Finch to relieve him. This was not attended to for some little time, when Hale, becoming more and more sensible of declining strength, surrendered personally his patent to the King, who received it in the kindest spirit, and promised that his pension should be continued durins his life. 234 HIS CLOSING DAYS. The Lrief remainder of liis days was spent in pious and meditative retirement, preparing himself for that better world which had long been the dwelling of his thoughts. His friend Richard Baxter thus alludes to the closinof scenes : " It is not the least of my pleasure that I have lived some years in his more than ordinary love and friendship, and that we are now waiting which shall be first in heaven; whither he saith he is going, with full content and acquiescence in the will of a gracious God, and doubts not but we shall shortly live together." — On his withdrawal from public life, he went to live in a house at Acton. Afterwards he removed to his own house at Aldeiiy, intending to die there; and there he did die, under a combined attack of asthma and dropsy, on Christmas Day, 16*78. Such is a brief sketch of one of the most eminent lawyers and most upright judges that ever adorned the judicial courts of our country. But he was not more celebrated as a judge than he was humble, earnest, and devoted as a Christian. His religion was a living power in his soul, interpenetrating his whole life, and shaping his whole conduct after a heavenly CUARACTER AND WORKS. 235 fashion cand type. The different stages of his career were linked to each other by a steady gi'owth of development and progress; and his closing scenes were those of the placid work- man taking his rest at the end of the day ; and of the patient, hopeful Christian, expect- inor the voice of his Master ere long to call him home. His published works were numerous and important. They relate to subjects philo- sophical, scientific, forensic, and religious. The last were some time ago collected into two octavo volumes, and published under the title of " Moral and Religious," with life by Bishop Burnet, and appendix by the Rev. Mr, Thirl- wall. They are exceedingly valuable for their sound sense and their rich devotional spirit. Altogether he is one of those rare individuals who, while they illustrate the advantages of patient industry in their profession, exemplify at tlie same time the majesty of conscience, and the elevating influence which a sense of higher relations and responsibilities invariably exerts upon the character and life- X. HE subject of our present sketch, Jacques Lafitte, was one of the most remarkable examples of self- elevation on record, while at the same time he strikingly illustrates the lesson which this book is intended to teach. Certainly there have been few boyhoods which have presented a more distinct prophecy of the success of after- life than his did, and few consequently which it is more important to recommend to the at- tention of youth in every country and age. He was born at Bayonne on October 24 th, 1767. His father was a carpenter in that town, of honest reputation, but, chiefly owing to the largeness of his family, which consisted of ten children, exceedingly poor. In conse- quence of this he does not seem to have been able to send his childi"en to school; at all events, it is certain that Jacques received no LAFITTE GOES TO PARTS. 237 education but what he was able to take up, as opportunity offered, at his own hand. That a boy with such an unfavourable beginning should rise to be the first banker and financier in France, and that, too, during such a trying period as the Empire and the Restoration, must be regarded as a circumstance implying the existence of extraordinary qualities, cultivated and applied with equally extraordinary wisdom and care. Nor can he be said to have acquired anything like a start in life, in his native place, or even such experience in business as might prove a foundation for his future achievements. His only apprenticeship there was that of an errand boy, in the office of a notary. When he was about twenty years of age he repaired to the metropolis, hoping to find better scope for his talents and the means of supporting himself, and, possibly, of doing something for his family at home. The inci- dent connected with his arrival at Paris and his first engagement there, although very well known, is too interesting and significant to be omitted in this notice. He had travelled all night on his way from Bayonne and arrived in Paris early in the day, 238 APPLIES TO A BANKKU. breakfastless and penniless. He was wearied and worn out by travel and hunger, and was utterly without the means of procuring any relief. His whole stock-in-trade was a letter of introduction to a Monsieur Perregeaux, a first-class banker. No doubt he was blessed with a good appearance, and what was better still, a trust in Providence, and a steadfast resolution to get on. On arriving at Paris his first business was to ascertain where the office of the banker was situated, and then to make his way to it as he best could. He was so fortunate as to find M. Perregeaux on his first call; he presented his letter, and with trem- ulous anxiety waited the result. That result was unfavourable; the establishment was at present overcrowded with clerks, and he could not possibly take in another. The poor young man turned from the door in silent disappoint- ment. He knew not whither he was to bend his steps; he knew not where he was to ob- tain a meal. His one hope had failed him, and now he was emphatically in that gay and heartless capital — heartless, like all capitals, to the friendless and the poor — without a home and without a friend. As he was passing HE PICKS UP A PIN. 239 through the court-yard some small object on the ground attracted his eye. It was nothing more than a common pin, which nevertheless he stooped to pick up, and stuck it in his sleeve. This seemingly indifferent act was not indifferent in the view of the rich banker, who happened to observe it as he looked acci- dentally from the window. He saw in the act the pledge and the germ of carefulness and thrift, and that respect for littles, which hes at the basis of all true industry, and all en- lightened finance. The consequence was, that he called him back and gave him a trial in some very subordinate department of his estab- lishment. This was all that was necessary for such a person as Lafitte. He only required to get a footing, however humble — to be put on trial in short — in order to his achieving for him- self a position of respect and confidence, in relation to his employer. In addition to his moral and intellectual qualities, he had a fine outward appearance, and a frank, manly, and courteous manner. And this last is by no means to be despised by young men. It is not a substitute for more sterling qualifications, 240 HIS BUSINESS QUALIFICATIONS. but neither is it incompatible with them, and it undoubtedly tends, in no small degree, to facilitate their recognition, and to clear, in a general way, the path of the young man to- wards ultimate success. Accordingly we find that young Lafitte soon secured the confidence of the banker, and rose rapidly in his esteem. He found that that carefulness which was manifested by the pick- ing up of the pin was associated with sterling principle, generous instincts, and even great breadth and grasp of mind. He found also that he was gifted with the faculty of close application to his duties, systematic arrange- ment of his work, and, together with the power of controlling his own thoughts, an openness of mind to receive the suggestions of others, and a readiness to turn them to good account. It would have been singular, indeed, if this com- bination of qualities had failed to make an early and a favourable impression. They did not so fail, for, on the contrary, we find that although he had only entered the establishment of M. Perregeaux as a supernumerary clerk, at a salary of £48 per annum, he had not been there two years when he was appointed book- HIS RAPID ADVANCEMENT. 241 keeper to the whole establishment. This was in 1789. In 1792, again, he was made cashier, in 1800 chief clerk and manager, junior partner in 1804, and, on the death of Perregeaux in 1809, he became sole partner of the concern. Thus, in the course of twenty years, or rather less, this youth, who had ar- rived in Paris without a sou in his pocket, and without a friend to look to, rose through all the intermediate steps, beginning as a mere supernumerary, until he had attained to the hio-hest and most influential commercial posi- tion in France. Nor was his elevation to the head of the firm to be traced to the fact of his predecessor having no near relative who might have taken his place, for he had a son. This son, however, differed from his father and from Lafitte alike. He drew a handsome income from the business, but that was the only rela- tion which he had with it. M. Perregeaux had sense enough to perceive which of the two was the competent person, and to appoint Lafitte his executor and his successor accordingly. He had fallen on hard times for great money establishments, as the terrible storm of the Revolution was csilculated to test these to the '107) 1^5 242 HIS DISINTERESTEDNESS. uttermost. Still Lafitte seems to have kept his ground, and even to have acquired a growing reputation as a master of finance. The same year in which he became the sole representa- tive of his firm he was appointed director of the Bank of France, the duties of which office he discharged while still conducting the affairs of his own large establishment. A few years after this we find him acting as Judge of the Tribunal of Commerce of the Seine, and some time thereafter he was elected to the office of President of the Chamber of Commerce, His valuable services were equally appreciated by the party in power after the downfall of the empire, the Provisional Government having then appointed him governor of the Bank of France. This was in 1814. In connection with this appointment, he gave the first proof on a great scale of that public-spirited liber- ality which so strikingly marked his subsequent career. He declined to accept any remunera- tion for the office, thus relieving the public expenditure to the extent of a hundi-ed thou- sand francs a year. We have formerly stated that Lafitte was a man who was capable of taking a large view THE BANK OF FRANCE. 243 of a subject, and at this time his sagacity ^vas of ofi'eat service to the state. He arrived at the conclusion, that as in every country, so especially in a country so unsettled as France at that time was, it would be of the utmost importance that its great national bank should be placed on a footing which would make it ns far as possible independent of those fluctu- ations of government which were so common at the period. He felt that, in proportion as this should be done, a bulwark of safety would be erected for the state itself, and a break- water obtained against the shocks which might be anticipated from the revolutionary passions and reactions then so frequent and violent. This desirable result he was, by his great knowledge and influence, enabled to accom- plish, in consequence of which it became a prevalent opinion that whatever might be up- set, the Bank of France would stand firm, at least as long as Lafitte was at its head. And this opinion was fully justified by facts, for once and again, partly by his admirable ma- nagement, partly by his personal liberality, he was enal>led to guide it through crises which it seemed all but impossible that it should 244 VALUABLE SERVICES. survive. Such, for example, was the case when, on the return of Napoleon from Elba, Louis XVIII. applied to the governor for a sum amounting to several millions, a demand which was more easily made than answered, and yet it was answered, although the parti- cular manner is not very well known. Much about the same time the Duke of Orleans ap- plied for a loan of one million and six hundred thousand francs, offering a premium of twent}' per cent, upon the loan. This also Lafitte was not only able to meet, but did so without charging any per centage at all. This is a specimen of those numerous acts of more than princely munificence by which he has secured for himself so high and honourable a name. One striking illustration of his wisdom and integrity is found in the fact that he possessed and retained the confidence and respect of all political parties, and this not because he had no decided political opinions, for he was a firm and uncompromising liberal ; and nothing could induce him to swerve from his convic- tions. Still he was trusted by all, he was applied to by all, and he was always ready to o^ive his advice or assistance in matters of LAFITTE S GENEROSITY. 245 finance without reference to the political opi- nions of any. Napoleon the Fu'st remitted to him, after the battle of Waterloo, the im- mense sum of five millions in gold as being the most competent party to get it transferred to England or America, and there put to the credit of the fallen and exiled emperor. This Lafitte accomplished, and in testimony of his gratitude Napoleon bequeathed to him the interest which this vast sum had gathered. Such, however, was the chivalrous honour and munificence of the banker that he declined to receive it, saying that he did not accept the charge of the money on the understanding that it was to carry interest. A man of such princely generosity is not likely at any time, and least of all at such a time as that in which he lived, to be long without the recurrence of calls for its exercise. The Im])erial army had not been receiving their pay with regularity, and when the allies entered France after the battle of Waterloo, that army refused to disband till they should receive their arrears. This was a formidable difficulty, fur the public exchequer was empty, and the Provisional Government were under 246 FURTHEK INSTANCES. the necessity of applying again to the head of the bank. In these circumstances Lafitte, not deeming it prudent to summon the Council, advanced on his own responsibility the requi- site sum, amounting to somewhere about two millions. Another and a somewhat similar trial immediately succeeded, in the form of a demand by Blucher for a very large sum within twenty-four hours. Here also Lafitte had to fly to the rescue by personally guaranteeing the money, which was afterwards raised by subscription. Such extraordinary acts as these could not fail to secure for him the utmost confidence and respect. He had taken his seat with the Opposition when elected Deputy of Paris in 1816, and yet that very ministry against whose principles and policy he strongly protested appointed him a member of a com- mission appointed to inquire into the causes of the depressed condition of the exchequer. On this commission he rendered effectual service, giving the benefit of his large experience, and not hesitating to expose and denounce those wrong principles of taxation and finance which had threatened the country with so many evils, and from which it was still suffering greatly. LAFITTE AND THE GOVERNMENT. 247 He averted another crisis in 1818, which seemed about to precipitate revolution and anarchy; and all these services and sacrifices of mind and money were accompanied with the steadfast refusal to appropriate the large salary which rightfully belonged to him as the governor of the bank. Many other instances of self-sacrificing generosity might be men- tioned, as, for example, his heading the sub- scription for the family of General Foy (whom he had signally helped during his lifetime) with the sum of fifty thousand francs, and his gift to Chateaubriand of ten thousand francs at a time when that eminent man was on the verge of ruin, and when he had turned to all other quarters for relief in vain. It has been stated that Lafitte had no con- fidence in the government. A charter, indeed, had been granted to the people when the old dynasty was reinstated. But he was troubled with fears that it would not be long respected, and these fears were confirmed, indeed fully vindicated, by various encroachments calcu- lated to produce irritation and alarm. These encroachments reached their culmination in 1827 in the proposed dissolution of the Na- 248 BKCOMES LEADER OF THE OPPOSITION. tional Guard; and then it was that Lafitte felt himself compelled for the first time to sink in a manner the financier in the states- man and the patriot. He became the avowed leader of the Opposition, and impeached the Ministers of Charles X. His great influence and popularity rendered this a serious matter to the government. The words of M. de Lomenie indicate the Bort of position which he held. " Placed in the foreground of the defenders of the charter, popular as well by his opinions as by his gene- rosity, the opulent banker finds himself sur- rounded by all the notabilities of the press and of the tribune." This contemplated impeach- ment of course threw him more than ever into collision with the Crown, and established him as the champion of the people; and, indeed, by this time he was becoming fully aware of the fact, — or rather we should say impressed with the conviction, — that the days of the elder branch of the Bourbon dynasty were numbered, and that the downfall of Charles was only a question of weeks or months. This, considering his own political views, could not be in itself a matter of regret; but then he LOUIS PHILIPPE. 249 knew what fearful anarchy was certain to succeed if matters were not so previously ar- ranged that the supreme power should at once pass into the possession of one whose claim might be generally recognised. His desire at first was to prevent the crisis he feared, if it were possible, but becoming more and more convinced of the hopelessness of such an at- tempt, there was nothing left but to make it as little disastrous to the country as possible. The arrangement of this was the problem on which he now occupied his thoughts, and these thoughts terminated on the Duke of Orleans, afterwards the citizen king, Louis Philippe. That prince was of liberal sentiments, and Lafitte flattered himself that, should he suc- ceed to the throne, past experience as well as his own avowed principles would lead him to rule in a just and liberal spirit. This idea once seated in his mind, but undreamt of at the time by any other, he cautiously com- municated to some like-minded with himself, and the cause, thus nurtured in secret, made rapid progress till it suddenly ripened into fruition in connection with the Revolution of July 1830. The events of that crisis are too 250 TH li REVOLUTION. well known to require to be recounted here. Immediately after the issuing of the dreaded " ordinances," and the signing of the protest of the deputies, Lafitte, Perrier, and others re- paired to the palace. A general insurrection had taken place, of which the palace of the Duke of Orleans was the acknowledged centre ; and when the Minister arrived with the an- nouncement that the king had recalled the ordinances, Lalitte boldly replied, " It is too late; there is no longei- a Charles the Tenth." In connection with this a deputation was sent to the Duke of Orleans offering him the lieu- tenancy of the kingdom. Of this deputation Lafitte was a member; and there is a curious incident narrated of him here. While on his way to the duke he injured his foot in scram- bling over a barricade. The duke noticed it, and called attention to the wound. " Don't mind my feet," was the reply of Lafitte, " look to my hands, there is a crown in them." There is an impression on the part of some that it was M. Thiers who proposed the Duke ot Orleans as chief magistrate. But this is a mistake. The act in question was that of Lafitte, for although he endeavoured to arrest HIS OWN FORTUNES SUFFER. 251 the insurrection at first, going through the barri- cades to the headquarters of Marshal Marmont and expostulating with that officer that he should use his influence with the king to prevail upon him to withdraw the ordinances w^hich had caused the insurrection, yet, when he failed, he put himself at once in the front of the movement party, and as we have seen, acted as the spokesman of the deputation sent to the duke. His participation in these events, while patriotic in their motive, and quite in accord- ance with his political views, were destined to be fraught with disastrous effects, so far as his own fortunes were concerned. Once that an individual has assumed a prominent posi- tion in any great movement, such as the in- surrection of July, it is difficult for him to go back, or even to stand still, — any such hesi- tancy is apt to be looked upon as unfaithful- ness to the cause, and thus it has happened that many an eminent man has been swept forward by the revolutionary tide much farther than he had ever intended. He may be able to guide the current of feeling to a certain extent when he is altogether powerless to 252 BECOMES PRIME MINISTER. check it. It would have been manifestly for the interest of Lafitte, after the transition crisis was over, to have slipped back at once into his own proper kingdom of finance; and had he done this he might have retained to the last the immense fortune of two millions sterling, which he had amassed in the most honourable manner, and which, notwithstand- ing his extraordinary liberality at various times, he still possessed. But unfortunately for himself, and for the nation as well, he was induced, on the 8d of November 1830, to accept the office of Prime Minister (President du Conseil), and also that of Minister of Finance. The first disclosure to him of the error of this step was in the want of support to the measures which he brought forward, even on the part of tliose who had stood shoulder to shoulder with him in the revolu- tionary crisis, and on whom he had the most implicit reliance. The commercial relations of the country had been greatly disturbed by the dynastic convulsion, and failures were taking place on every side. A new revolution began to be feared; and, in short, Lafitte was so convinced that he was at present not in his MONETARY CRISIS. 253 proper place, that he resigned olRce in March 1831, and was succeeded by Perrier, A severe blow, however, had by this time been given to his fortunes. The Revolution had affected his credit as well as that of all others, and his occupancy of high and engrossing poli- tical office necessitated the neglect almost en- tirely of his own establishment. In the exercise, too, of that wonderful liberality which characterized him almost to rashness, he had put his money at the command of the new government, many of whom were too ready to appropriate it to their own uses. A great monetary crisis, which was felt more or less throughout the whole of Europe, succeeded to this, and in the downfall of hitherto eminent and flourishing houses, that of Lafitte, who was the creditor of many of them to a large extent, could not escape. In this emergency he at once determined, that no one might be a loser by him, to sell off all his estates, which stiU amounted to fifty million francs. One of these estates, the Forest of Breteuil, he dis- posed of to Louis Philippe for ten millions of francs. Tliis tremendous sacrifice, however, was not 254 A NATIONAL SUBSCRIPTION. found equal to the occasion; and in order to meet the remaining demands, he determined to bring also to sale his hotel in Paris, in which the new monarchy had been formed, as well as his share in the business of his bank. This, however, was more than public feeling would allow, and a national subscription, which amounted to one million and a half francs, testified the general sense of the past patriotism and munificence of the fallen, though still great and high-minded financier, and secured the splendid residence for himself and his family. To this subscription the ex-emperor of the French subscribed six hundred francs. Some few years after, when his whole assets became known, he was found, after discharg- ing all his liabilities in full, to have a balance left of eight millions of francs. It is gratifying to think that the great losses which Laiitte had sustained, chiefly from his public spirit and instinctive munificence, did not lessen in the slightest degree that respect and gratitude which he might well have expected at the hands of his country- men. In 1837 he was elected representative of the sixteenth arondissement of Paris, and HIS ILLXESS AXD DEATH. 255 took his seat in opposition to that very go- vernment which he had mainly contributed to set up. Already he had seen that a change of d}Tiasty does not necessarily imply an im- provement of administration and a boon to the people. The professed principles may be sound, and the neu' programme may be salu- .tary, but unless these are in the hands of patriotic and conscientious men, they simply mock the hopes of the nation by promises which are never to be fulfilled, and expecta- tions of good which are never to be realized. This he felt to be the case at the present time, and on his last public appearance in the House, at the opening of the session of 1844, he did not hesitate to state his convictions and his fears, significantly reminding Ministers of the promi.ses of the Revolution. Four years after was afforded the awful comment on the warn- ing voice of the upright and wise old man. The year in which he gave that warning was destined to be his last upon earth. He was seized with an affection of the lungs, and was suddenly cut off on May 26, 1844, being seven ty-.seven years of age. He was buried with every mark of personal and public respect 256 CONCLUSION. in the Cemetery of Pere-la- Chaise. Twenty thousand people are said to have attended his funeral, and Arago and Dupin delivered ora- tions over his grave. Such is a brief sketch of the career of one of the most industrious, honourable, and gener- ous of men,— one of the truest patriots of France, and one of the ablest financiers the world has known. His commencement was small, and his friends were few, or rather none at all He arrived in the great metropolis of France without either money or prospects, and yet, by his unconquerable perseverance and his unswerving integrity, he raised himself to the position of highest influence and authority both in the commercial and political arena. His life was one more added to the countless illustrations that in our earlier stag-es we are fashioning our future, — carving out for our- selves a position of usefulness and honour, or the opposite, according as we form our habits, and apply our faculties, in the youth, and early manhood of life. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-lC0m-9,'52(A3105)444 ^IJNIYERSITY OF CALIFORNIA (LOS.^Ai^GELES CT Tweedie - T91y ce. n CT 107 T91y AA 000 730 191 4 i^