MR. JUSTICE TALFOURD.
The noble sentiments uttered by Justice Talfourd in his last moments gave a charm to his sudden death, and shed a hallowed beauty about the painfully closing scenes of this great man. I want them to have a niche in "N. & Q.," and along with them a passage from his beautiful tragedy of Ion, which may be considered as a transcript of those thoughts which filled his mind on the very eve of quitting the high and honourable duties of his earthly course. It forcibly illustrates the loving soul, the kind heart, and the amiable character of this deeply lamented judge.
After speaking of the peculiar aspect of crime in that part of the country where he delivered his last charge, he goes on to say:
"I cannot help myself thinking it may be in no small degree attributable to that separation between class and class, which is the great curse of British society, and for which we are all, more or less, in our respective spheres, in some degree responsible, and which is more complete in these districts than in agricultural districts, where the resident gentry are enabled to shed around them the blessings resulting from the exercise of benevolence, and the influence and example of active kindness. I am afraid we all of us keep too much aloof from those beneath us, and whom we thus encourage to look upon us with suspicion and dislike. Even to our servants we think, perhaps, we fulfil our duty when we perform our contract with them—when we pay them their wages, and treat then with the civility consistent with our habits and feelings—when we curb our temper, and use no violent expressions towards them. But how painful is the thought, that there are men and women growing up around us, ministering to our comforts and necessities, continually inmates of our dwellings, with whose affections and nature we are as much unacquainted as if they were the inhabitants of some other sphere. This feeling, arising from that kind of reserve peculiar to the English character, does, I think, greatly tend to prevent that mingling of class with class, that reciprocation of kind words and gentle affections, gracious admonitions and kind inquiries, which often, more than any book-education, tend to the culture of the affections of the heart, refinement and elevation of the character of those to whom they are addressed. And if I were to be asked what is the great want of English society—to mingle class with class—I would say, in one word, the want is the want of sympathy."
Act I. Sc. 2. After Clemanthe has told Ion that, forsaking all within his house, and risking his life with strangers, he can do but little for their aid, Ion replies:
"It is little:
But in these sharp extremities of fortune,
The blessings which the weak and poor can scatter
Have their own season. 'Tis a little thing
To give a cup of water; yet its draught
Of cool refreshment, drain'd by fever'd lips,
May give a shock of pleasure to the frame
More exquisite than when nectarean juice
Renews the life of joy in happiest hours.
It is a little thing to speak a phrase
Of common comfort, which, by daily use,
Has almost lost its sense; yet, on the ear
Of him who thought to die unmourn'd, 'twill fall
Like choicest music; fill the glazing eye
With gentle tears; relax the knotted hand
To know the bonds of fellowship again;
And shed on the departing soul a sense,
More precious than the benison of friends
About the honour'd death-bed of the rich,
To him who else were lonely, that another
Of the great family is near and feels."
The analogy is as beautiful as it is true.
H. M. Bealby.
North Brixton.
Before this talented judge was advanced to the bench, he amused himself and instructed his clients by occasional metrical notes, of which the annexed is a specimen. To make it intelligible to those whom it may not concern, I must add an explanation by the attorney in the suit, who has obligingly placed the learned serjeant's notes at my disposal. This gentleman says: "These notes are in the margin of a brief held by the serjeant as leading counsel in an action of ejectment brought against a person named Rock, in 1842. In converting into rhyme the evidence of the witness Hopkins, as set out in the brief, he has adhered strictly to the statements, whilst he has at the same time seized the prominent points of the testimony as supporting the case."
John Hopkins will identify the spot,
Unless his early sports are quite forgot,
And from his youngest recollection show
The house fell down some forty years ago.
And then—a case of adverse claim to meet,
Show how the land lay open to the street;
And there the children held their harmless rambles,
Till Robert Woolwich built his odious shambles,
And never did the playmates fear a shock,
From anything so hateful as a Rock.
Perhaps the above may elicit from other quarters similar contributions; indeed, any memorial of the friend of Charles Lamb must be precious to the Muse.
T. J. Buckton.
Lichfield.