they
Most sturdily refused.
But still that he might understand
The nature of the charge,
The same was in the Latin tongue
Read out to him at large.
'Twas thus the law kept rogues at awe,
Gave honest men protection,
And justly famed, by all was named,
Of 'wisdom the perfection!'
But now the case is different,
The rogues are getting bold—
It was not so, some time ago,
In those good days of old!"
It may be gathered from what has gone before, that Mr. Smith's mind was one of equal activity and strength. His physical energies might flag, but never those of his mind. He was always ready to pass from protracted and intense professional study and exertion, to other kinds of mental exercise—"from gay to grave, from lively to severe"—either reading general literature, or amusing himself with slight affairs such as the foregoing; or, as soon as a little leisure had recruited his spirits, entering with infinite zest into superior conversation on almost any topic that could be started. He was for a long time shy and distant to strangers; but was quite a different person at the tables, and in the company, of his old friends and companions. There certainly never sate at my table a man who, when in the humour, could supply for hours together such genuine fun and amusement as Mr. Smith. Our little children were always very glad to see him, for he was patient and gentle with them, and contrived really to entertain them. Towards ladies, his manner was always most fastidiously delicate and courteous. There was, if I may so speak, a smack of days gone by—a kind of antique and rather quaint gracefulness of demeanour and address, which I used frequently to contemplate with lively interest and curiosity. When he returned from dining out, to his chambers, he would light his candles, and, instead of going to bed, sit up till a very late hour; for not only had he much to get through, but was a bad sleeper. A few years before his death, he had become a member of the Garrick Club, which was ever after his favourite resort, and was also frequented by several other members of the bar. He was delighted to take a friend or two to dinner with him, and would entertain them most hospitably, and with increasing frequency, as his means became rapidly more ample. He was also fond of the theatres, taking special delight in comedies and farces, however broad, and even pantomimes. With what solemn drollery he would afterwards dwell on the feats of Clown and Pantaloon! I am here, however, speaking of several years ago; for latterly he said, "It was a very hard thing to find any thing to laugh at in a pantomime, however much one tried!"
During the years 1842, 1843, and 1844, his practice continued steadily increasing, and that, too, in the highest and most lucrative class of business—not only before special juries at Nisi Prius, and the Courts in Banc and in Error in the Exchequer Chamber, but in the Privy Council and the House of Lords. Before the last tribunal, in particular, he appeared as one of the counsel in the O'Connell case, on behalf of Mr. O'Connell and his companions. His time was now incessantly occupied, by day and night; his slight intervals of relaxation necessarily becoming fewer and fewer. His evenings, indeed, were almost always occupied with arbitrations, consultations, or preparing those pleadings and writing those opinions which his constant attendance in the Courts prevented his then disposing of. His friends saw with pain how grievously he was over-tasking his strength, and earnestly importuned him to give himself more intervals of relaxation—but in vain. For nearly two years before his death, his haggard countenance evidenced the direful havoc which he was making of a constitution never of the strongest. Sir William Follett and he were both sitting at the bar of the House of Lords, on one of the latest days of the hearing of Mr. O'Connell's case, each within a yard or two of me. Two death-doomed beings they looked, each, alas! having similarly provoked and accelerated his fate. On the same afternoon that Sir William Follett leaned heavily and feebly on a friend's arm as he with difficulty retired from the bar, I went home in a cab with Mr. Smith, who sate by me silent and exhausted, and coughing convulsively. I repeatedly conjured him to pause, and give his shattered health a chance of recovery, by retiring for a few months, or even for a year or two, from the excitement and wasting anxieties and exertions of business; but he never would listen to me, nor to any of his friends. "It is all very well," he said to me several times, "to talk of retiring for a while; but what is to become of one's business and connexion in the mean time? You know it will have melted away for ever." He had, however, been persuaded to consult a physician of experienced skill in cases of consumption; who, after having once or twice seen him, sent a private message to the friend who had prevailed on Mr. Smith to call upon him; and on that friend's attending the physician, he pronounced the case to be utterly hopeless; that it might be a matter of months, even; but he ought to be prepared for the worst, and apprised of his situation. His friend requested the physician to undertake that duty, assuring him of his patient's great strength of mind and character: but he declined. Mr. Smith spent the long vacation of 1844 with his brothers and sisters in Ireland. They were shocked at his appearance, and affectionately implored him not to return to England, or attempt to resume his professional duties; but in vain. While staying in Ireland, he regretted the fast flight of time, evidently clinging to the society of his brothers and sisters, to the latter of whom he was most devotedly attached; but bleak, bitter, blighting November saw him again established at the Temple, and fairly over head and ears in the business of the commencing term. He attended the courts as usual; went out in the evenings to arbitrations and consultations as of old; dined also at the Garrick as before, and sat up as late at nights as ever. We all sighed at this deplorable infatuation; but what could we do? He was a man of inflexible will, and a peculiar idiosyncracy. Remonstrance and entreaty, from the first useless, at length evidently became only irritating. Not a judge on the bench, nor a member of the bar, but regretted to see him persist in attending the courts; where he sat and stood, indeed, a piteous spectacle. He resolved on going the Spring Circuit in 1845, being retained in some of the heaviest cases tried there. Shortly before this, the friend already referred to resolved to perform the painful duty of telling him, that in his physician's opinion there was not a ray of hope for his recovery; a communication which he received with perfect calmness and fortitude. To his brother's entreaties, about the month of June, that he would either go abroad, accompanied by one of his brothers or sisters, or allow the latter to come and live with him, in a house a little removed from town, he steadily turned a deaf ear. He evidently knew that it was useless; and spoke of his desperate state as calmly as he would have done in referring to the case of a mere stranger. It is believed that his sole reason for refusing to permit his sister to come over, was his fond and tender regard for her—a reluctance to permit her to witness him waste away, injuring in vain her own health and spirits. About this time, he said to his brother very quietly, but sadly, that "he feared his sisters would soon have to bear a severe shock!" He sat in his chambers, which were within only a few yards' distance from the Temple Church, on the day of Sir William Follett's funeral. He heard the tolling of the bell, and from his window11 he could have seen much of that solemn ceremonial. What must have been his feelings? This was on the 4th July; and five days afterwards, (viz. on the 9th,) poor Mr. Smith appeared, I believe for the last time in the Court of Exchequer, during the post-terminal sittings in Trinity vacation, to argue a demurrer! I was present during part of the time. What a dismal object he looked, while addressing the Court! I think we drove up to the Temple together. He had argued the case of Bradburne v. Botfield, (reported in 14 Meeson and Welsby, 558,) the last time, I believe, that his name appears in the Reports. It was a very nice question, as to whether certain covenants in a lease were joint or several: his argument was successful, and the Court gave judgment in his favour. The next day he said to me, speaking of this occasion,
His chambers were No. 2, Mitre Court Buildings, to which he had removed from No. 12, King's Bench Walk, about two years before.
