| | | The death of Lord Lansdowne is one of those events which, | although long anticipated with their consequences, are | never thoroughly appreciated till they occur. On the | morning of Sunday last, all men more or less connected | with the world of politics, fashion, science, literature, or art, | felt that they had lost something more than a sagacious | counsellor, a courteous and liberal host, a valued friend, a | cultivated companion, or a munificent patron. A link was | simultaneously broken in the chain which binds men of | intellectual mark together for high and useful purposes, | and in that which connects the leading minds of the | present generation with the past. Placed by birth from | boyhood in the position which others, destitute of that | advantage, spend years in struggling for, Lord Lansdowne | eagerly profited by his opportunities. He could relate how | he had listened to Burke in one of his most excited moods, | and how he had strolled in the garden or turnip field at St. | Anne’s Hill ~~ | Having encountered Pitt in actual debate, he could repeat, | with the emphasis of conviction: ~~ | He was showing only the other day at Bowood a copy of | Boswell’s Johnson, presented to him

“from | the Author;”

and one of the most valuable | contributions to

“the Johnsonian Urn”

is his letter | describing his visit to Mrs. Piozzi, whilst she was busy with | Retrospection in 1799. His manhood and old | age were passed, like his youth, amongst all that was | gifted or famous, learned, accomplished, refined or | elevating ~~ attracted round him far more by his unaffected | sympathy and congenial habits than by his rank. He did not | give a haughty and protecting patronage to clever men. He | claimed brotherhood with them, and sought them as his | natural associates; and his usefulness as their common | centre is the measure of their loss. There is no longer a | house at which the celebrities of all nations may be sure of | meeting, as on the tableland of which D’Alembert holds out | a prospect in some future state; and the richest store of | varied and instructive reminiscences existing in our time is | gone with the deceased nobleman to the grave. | Although his fortune came from Sir William Petty through a | female, he was lineally descended in the male line from the | Fitzmaurices, Earls of Kerry. He was the second son of the | celebrated Earl of Shelburne, whose ambition, justified by | his talents, was balked by the suspicion justly or unjustly | entertained of his sincerity. When Gainsborough drew his | portrait, his lordship complained that it was not like. The | painter said he did not approve it either, and | begged to try again. Failing a second time, he flung down | his pencil, saying, We commend this story to | those who believe in inherited qualities, for the late Marquis | was frankness and truth personified. In allusion to the | Earl’s nickname of Malagrida ( a Portuguese Jesuit), | Goldsmith once naively remarked to him ~~ . To | console him for missing the Premiership he was made a | Marquis, and he busied himself during the remainder of his | life with the adornment of Lansdowne House and the | formation of the fine collection of pictures, statues, books, | and manuscripts which was dispersed by his eldest son | and immediate successor. | Henry, the third Marquis, first known to fame as Lord Henry | Petty, was born on July 2, 1780. he was educated at | Westminster, where according to tradition, just before | leaving school at the age of sixteen or seventeen, he was | unjustly and improperly flogged. He was next sent to | Edinburgh under the care of a tutor, Mr. Debarry, where, at | the table of Dugald Stewart and in the Speculative Society, | he associated with a set of young men who were destined | to work a revolution in literature, and (some of them) to | play a conspicuous and important part on the political | arena ~~ with (amongst others) Jeffrey, Sydney Smith, | Lord Palmerstone, Horner, Lord Brougham, and Scott. He | was wont to say that the preparing of his essays and | speeches for their debating club was the most useful | mental training he underwent at any period. | Before he left Scotland he was entered of Trinity College, | Cambridge, where he took his degree in 1801. The | impression left by him on his late associates at Edinburgh, | and the expectations formed of him, may be learned from | one of Horner’s letters to his friend, Murray (the late Lord | Murray), dated April 10, 1801: ~~ | When the Peace of Amiens reopened the Continent to | English enterprise or curiosity, Lord Henry Petty started for | what was called the Grand Tour, attended by Dumont, the | translator or exponent of Bentham, taking Lausanne and | Geneva on his way. Coxe’s Travels in Switzerland | was still fresh in Swiss recollection, and it was at one | of these places, as he used to narrate, that the landlord | boasted of having lodged the two most celebrated of his | countrymen, Monsieur Fox et Monsieur Coxe. | The renewal of the war speedily drove back the travellers, | and Lord Henry took his seat for Calne, the borough which, | under his conrol or counsel, has certainly contributed its full | share to the eloquence, knowledge, and ability of the | Legislature. His maiden speech was on the Bank | Restriction Act, but his first decided Parliamentary hit was | a speech against Lord Melville; of which Horner (April 19, | 1805) writes thus to Mackintosh: ~~ | Tierney said, says Lord Stanhope, in his Life | of Pitt, who died within a week of this time. | So high was then the estimate of the young orator’s | capacity that he was supposed equal to a repetition of the | part played by Pitt in 1784, had he been ready to throw off | the party ties that bound him to Fox ~~ of which, however, | no-one who knew him so much | as suspected him. His fealty had been already tried; for we | learn from Earl Stanhope that when Pitt was forming his | Government in 1804 He was to have moved the | Amendment to the Address on the opening of the Session | of 1806, when party warfare was suspended by the | alarming illness of Pitt; on whose death he was rewarded | for his exertions and straight-forwardness by a place in the | Cabinet of All the Talents. That as their Chancellor of the | Exchequer he did not lose ground with the public, is clear | from the manner in which Horner continues to speak of | him: ~~ | On vacating his seat by acceptance of office, he stood for | the University of Cambridge with Lord Palmerston as a | competitor; and it is a striking proof of the gradual breaking | down of political differences by the sheer force of events, | that these two statesmen, the one starting as a Tory and | the other as a Whig, should during several years, without | an imputation of inconsistency on that account, have been | co-operating more cordially than, perhaps, any two other | English statesmen of equal eminence. They seem to have | reached from opposite sides the same commanding | heights, from which the same broad views of government | and policy were opened to them. Their contest stands | immortalized by “Hours of Idleness:” ~~ | The selfsame question, Catholic Emancipation, lost Lord | Henry both his place and his seat for the University. He | held it only a year, and was succeeded by Sir Vicary Gibbs, | to whom an equally short tenure was promised in the | punning quotation: ~~ | It must have been about this time, and in reference to Irish | claims, that, as Lord Stanhope relates. George III. | remarked to an eminent statesman (Lord L.), | Johnson still more pointed said, Lord Henry was | re-elected for Camelford, which he represented till his | accession to the Marquisate, by the death of his brother, in | November, 1809. In March, 1808, he had married Lady | Louisa Strangways, a daughter of the Earl of Ilchester; and | on the 27th October, 1808, Horner writers to Murray: ~~ | | Her fine taste and winning, though rather reserved, | manners became of incalculable use to him in completing, | fitting up, and adorning his two principal residences, | especially Bowood, which for felicitous arrangements, | refined luxury, harmonizing objects of art, pictures, and | furniture, gradually grew into the most finished or (to | borrow the French expression) the best-mounted house in | Europe. says Mrs. Jamieson, Lady | Lansdowne used to say that, when she first came to | Bowood, she had to borrow a rush-chair from the lodge to | sit down upon. He trusted to his own judgment or feeling, | and the result is, that his pictures please no less by the | subject than by the execution ~~ a recommendation of | which collectors for vanity’s sake never think at all. | The Lansdowne collection is particularly rich in Reynoldses, | including Mrs. Sheridan as St. Caecilia, and | Lawrence Sterne, a much admired and most remarkable | portrait, Many of the pictures are the early works of | painters little known till he sought them out. Many are | associated with noteworthy incidents or remarks. Newton’s | Olivia brought back to her Home (a scene from | the Vicar of Wakefield), is represented with her | face hidden in her father’s bosom.

“It is not very | difficult,”

remarked a carping critic,

“to paint a | figure without the face.”

retorted Constable | . What Lord Lansdowne bought was the sob. | Almost the last (if not the very last) purchase he made was | Mr. Rankley’s picture of “The Prodigal’s Return.” When told | that it had passed into a dealer’s hands, having left the | walls of the Academy unsold, he exclaimed with much | warmth: The “Teacher of Music” by Mr. Millais | was another of his latest favourites. The fitness of each | picture for its allotted place, and its harmony with the room | and the accompaniments, were carefully subjected to | experiment; and when vividly impressed with a favourite | specimen or a new purchase, he would take it with him | from town to country or country to town, as if for the | uninterrupted enjoyment of its society. With the exception, | perhaps, of the Canleti room at Woburn there is nothing in | England more happily conceived than the dining-room at | Bowood, panelled with views by Stansfield in his finest | manner. | In English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, Lord | Henry is accused of being deep in the counsels of the | angry bard’s presumed enemies. | During many years he had ample leisure for both literature | and art; for a long and (to his political friends) tedious | interval was to elapse before he was to take part again in | the practical administration of affairs ~~ | Lord Lansdowne, however, was thoroughly imbued with | the broad principles of civil and religious liberty, and never | missed an opportunity of advancing them by opportune | advocacy. They gradually won their way forward; till the | ground occupied by the Eldon school of Tories became | untenable, and the Canning Ministry was formed; from | which Lord Grey held haughtily and insultingly aloof, whilst | Lord Lansdowne eagerly and cordially supported it. He | used to relate, with evident relish of its absurdity, the | objection started by William IV. To his joining the Cabinet in | 1830. His father had proposed or suggested the cession of | Gibraltar; and His Majesty required a written promise that | the proposal or suggestion should never be renewed by | the son. | It is unnecessary for the purposes of this summary to | enumerate the offices he filled, or the measures he passed | or promoted, from 1827 to 1852, when he formally seceded | from the leadership of the House of Lords. Suffice it to say | that once at least during the intervening period, and once | again prior to the formation of the Aberdeen Ministry, he | refused the Premiership. He also refused a dukedom. His | acceptance of a seat in the Cabinet without office was a | purely unselfish act, dictated by a sense of duty and a wish | to gratify the Queen. After the death of the Duke of | Wellington, Lord Lansdowne filled the vacated place of | constitutional adviser and referee about the throne; and | perhaps no one man ever intervened so often and so | successfully to reconcile political adversaries or | competitors for power. As for coalitions, it would seem as if | the mitis sapientia Loeli formed an | essential and inevitable part of them. | We must not omit to state that, as Home Secretary, in 1828, | he introduced an important Act for the consolidation of the | Criminal Law, and another for rendering the affirmation of | Quakers admissible in criminal cases. But, limited as we | are for space, we prefer dwelling on his social position and | influence; which were personal and peculiar, resulting | more from taste and temper than design. It has been truly | said that, consciously or unconsciously, he acted on | Goethe’s rule, never to pass a day without reading some | good poetry, hearing some good music, and looking at | some fine picture. writes Sydney Smith, | He looked also for brilliancy and attractiveness amongst | women; and the renown of more than one celebrated | beauty dates from her debut at Lansdowne | House ~~ | Brillat-Savarin lays down that, to make a pleasant dinner | party, the guests should be so selected . The | guests at Lansdowne House were so selected; and the | host took care that all should share in the conversation; or | when they were reassembled in the drawing-room, he | would adroitly coax them into groups, or devote himself for | a minute or two, carelessly and without effort, to the most | retiring or least known. He was emphatically described as a | natural gentleman by one whom he had just been putting | at his ease in this manner. He talked delightfully, and he | listened as well as he talked. | To be gathered together, received, and fused, as it were, in | this fashion, is a widely different thing from being lionized, | or invited for an obviously political end; yet it is not the less | true that the Whig party ~~ as stated in a popular Essay ~~ | benefited largely by his uncalculating and cosmopolitan | hospitality: ~~ | There is a passage in Lord Macaulay’s Essays | in which, after sketching the interior of Holland House, he | suggests how the surviving members of its circle might | recur to it: ~~ The awakened fancy might roam in | like manner through some well-remembered scenes at | Lansdowne House. There is the dinner-table at which | Rogers, placed between Hallam and Macaulay, | complained that they wrangled and fought over him, ; at which, in precisely similar circumstances, the great | French historian fell asleep. There are the grim, grey | statues, looking down from their niches on the recumbent | figure (by Canova) in white marble, that gave rise to the | somewhat hazardous joke of Payne Knight, which the | Marquis did not repeat till the ladies had withdrawn. It was | in the doorway of that concert-room that the brilliant and | fastidious Frenchman uttered his now celebrated saying ~~ | ; and it was in the adjoining saloon that Madame | de Stael, after a consultation with her host as to the best | position for attracting notice, took her pre-meditated stand | with Rogers. A descent to the subterranean portion of the | building might possibly lead to the room in which | (according to a plan of the second Marquis) thirty fiddlers | were to have been hermetically sealed up, so as to form a | reservoir of music to be conducted to every quarter of the | house under the control of stopcocks; till an insuperable | difficulty arose in supplying the fiddlers with air without an | escape and waste of sound. | Lord Lansdowne had an exquisite sense of humour, and | told his stories with imitable zest and a propos. | One afternoon at Bowood, when waiting for the ladies to | take a walk, he manifested some impatience at their delay, | which he explained by saying that the water from the lake | was set on for the waterfall, and that he feared it would not | last till they came. He then told the story of his poetic | neighbour, Bowles, being overheard, on the announcement | of visitors, ordering his garden to set the fountains playing, | and carry the hermit his beard. One of the raciest of his | latest stories was of a distinguished diplomatist who had a | country residence near a river, and was out fishing when | he called. On repairing to the scene of action, he found the | Minister in an appalling contest with a gigantic pike, | anxiously watched by an attache, who, whenever the pike | seemed to be getting the upperhand, instinctively clutched | his chief’s coat-tail and held him tight. The fish was landed | after a protracted struggle, and has been stuffed and | preserved as a trophy of the piscatorial prowess of His | Excellency. | Lord Lansdowne’s commerce with picture-dealers and | artists supplied him with some comic incidents. Looking at | the portrait of Sir Thomas More in the National Portrait | Gallery, he identified it by a crack which was pointed out to | him, many years ago, by a vendor, as greatly enhancing | the value, being relied on as proof that this was the | identical portrait flung out of the window by Henry VIII., | when Sir Thomas first set up his conscience against the | royal will. Lord Lansdowne used to relate that when, after | Turner’s death, he went to the artist’s house, on a foggy | day, in the hope of getting a sight of his reserved works, | the old woman in charge, looking up through the area | railings, took him for the cat’s-meat man, and told him he | needn’t come again, since some rascal had stolen her cat. | The best stories recorded by Moore are his Lordship’s; but | Moore was an unsafe carrier of a joke. In his Diary, edited | by Lord Russell, Canning is made to say that the Post | Office refused to convey Sir John Cox Hippisley’s pamphlet | in an official frank, because it was so bulky. | Canning said heavy. | said Johnson, The son’s ordinary | expenditure probably more than trebled the sum set down | by the father (in 1778) as enough; but the third Marquis | must have been an excellent manager, or he could not | have done what he did with an income not half the amount | of many received by nobles and commoners, who muddle | away their fortunes, or suffer them to accumulate, without | doing good to anybody. To our minds, it is still more | wonderful to think that it never crosses the mind of a man | with from fifty to a hundred thousand a year, or a million in | the funds, that he may add ineffably to the happiness or | comfort of half the people with whom he lives in intimacy, | or of a dozen families taken at random, without the | smallest deduction from his own or his heir’s superfluities. | The thought frequently occurred to Lord Lansdowne, who | also knew and felt that the haunts of squalid poverty are | not the places where objects of benevolence must | exclusively be sought; and that, amongst the severest | sufferers from pecuniary embarrassment, are persons in a | higher walk of life painfully struggling to keep up | appearances. We know of three recent instances in which, | with a graceful reference to the privileges of age, he placed | large sums (two of 1000 l. each) at the disposal of ladies of | condition, who had no sort of claim upon him besides | sudden and unmerited distress. The affectionate gratitude | inspired by him in one to whom he had been is | beautifully expressed in the Dedication of The Lady of | La Garaye. The morning after Rogers’ bank was | robbed, Lord Lansdowne wrote to say that his entire | balance at his banker’s was at the service of the aged poet. | The considerate kindness and generosity shown to Moore, | and continued to his widow, by the lord and lady of | Bowood, form part of the literary annals of the country. | Lord Lansdowne’s literary acquirements were precisely of | the kind required by his position and society. He was well | versed in the English, French, and Italian classics; and he | knew enough of most subjects to lead the conversation | upon them till it was taken up by those who had made | them an especial study. He had no particular liking for | science, although he delighted in the society of such men | as Lyell, Owen, Brewster, Wheatstone, and Murchison; | and he was extremely amused with the matter-of-fact | earnestness of one of them, who ~~ when a very eminent | statesman laughingly remarked that, according to Darwin’s | theory, a starfish might become an Archbishop of | Canterbury, passing through the intermediate stage of a | Bishop of Oxford ~~ gravely assured his Lordship that no | such transmutation could take place. | When someone was | mentioned as a fine old gentleman to Swift, he exclaimed | with violence that there was no such thing. Yet | surely the term is fairly applicable to one like Lord | Lansdowne, who, without deep passions, high imagination | or wearing intensity of thought, retains his flow of mind, his | taste, his memory, his sensibility, his attachments, his | rational pleasures, his eagerness to give pleasure and | confer benefits, at eighty-two. Any deduction to be made | on the score of his deafness was more than | counterbalanced by his mode of bearing up against this | infirmity. On a summer’s evening, soon after the | appearance of the Idylls of the King, he was | seated on a lawn not far from Kensington between two | handsome sisters; one of whom, read “Vivian” with that | sweet clear voice which Shakespeare calls

“an | excellent thing in woman.”

Nor did the group strike | anyone as incongruous. | understood better the art of | growing old; and if there be any truth in Rochefoucauld’s | masim ~~ ~~ most assuredly (fatuity | apart) those that can admire, adore, love longest, have the | best of it. | The week before his accident, he was slowly wending his | way to Jeff’s, in Burlington-arcade, to order M. Van de | Weyer’s sparkling brochure. three days before | he died, he was reading and discussing Kinglake’s | History. He sank gradually without pain, and when he | breathed his last, seemed rather to fall into a deep sleep | than to die. | Johnson, following in the wake of the Roman satirist, | indignantly proclaims: ~~ | | Lord Lansdowne’s contemporaries are not open to this | reproach. On his retirement from public life, a subscription | (limited to a guinea each, in order to comprise the greatest | number of subscribers) was set on foot, to present him with | a bust of himself. It was executed by Marochetti, and with a | Latin inscription from the classic pen of Hallam, now stands | in the inner hall at Bowood. Fortunate in all things, he | enjoyed in his lifetime what is commonly a posthumous | tribute; and he read in marble the chosen words ~~ more | lasting that marble ~~ in which his name and memory will | be handed down to posterity by those who knew him best.