all the light and joy of his life was to prove the immediate instrument of his death. The satisfaction he naturally experienced at the honour conferred upon him by the constituency of Westminster was not a little clouded by the anxiety his wife's declining health began to cause him. Towards the close of the summer he repaired with her to East Cowes Castle, the seat of his friend, Mr. Nash, in the Isle of Wight, in the hope that the milder air would improve her condition. There, as her disease fluctuated, his mind continued in a state of alarming disquietude, pulsating from hope to despair, and from despair to hope. On the 27th of September he wrote to his friend Dumont : "Since I last wrote to you Anne has been worse, and was certainly considered by both her medical attendants as being in some danger. She is at present a little better; but, for myself, I still apprehend the worst. I take care to let neither her nor the poor children see the anxiety I feel; but it costs me a good deal. With all this, do not suppose that I have not quite resolution enough to undergo everything, and to preserve my health for my children's sake." On the receipt of this letter, Mr. Dumont seems to have started for Cowes, where he found Lady Romilly so much improved as to be able to spend two or three hours daily in the society of her family and friends. Unfortunately, this improvement was only temporary. A severe relapse followed, and several days of acute suffering; during which, we are told, her husband's anguish could be equalled only by the pious fortitude and resolution with which he strove to control his emotions. But the nervous strain was excessive. Night after night he passed sleeplessly, or, if he slept, it was to be disturbed by such terrible dreams that he awoke unrefreshed and profoundly shaken. At times he believed his faculties to be injured, and began to entertain fears of mental derangement, whilst still discharging with anxious regularity the duties he owed to his God, his country, his family. Struggling against the agony that threatened to overwhelm him, he devoted to his children and friends the time that remained to him from his attendance in the sick chamber of his wife. With Mr. Dumont he held the most intimate and unrestrained conversations, discussing his projects for the future, and his plans for the education and establishment of his children. There is something sadly significant in the last few entries in his diary.* He was evidently unable to sit down and record the day's events with his usual calm ness : 14th. Sailed with Mr. Fazakerley to Southampton. 16th. Consulted with Mr. Bloxam [a local medical practitioner]. 19th. [Dr.] Royet and William arrived, and Mr. Nash. Oct. 9th. Slept for the first time after many sleepless nights. 10th. Relapse of Anne." Relapse of Anne !" These are the last few but most significant words. Having written them, he laid down his pen, as if he felt that his life's record was closed. About the middle of October his sister, to whom he * Memoirs, iii. 368. all the light and joy of his life was to prove the immediate instrument of his death. The satisfaction he naturally experienced at the honour conferred upon him by the constituency of Westminster was not a little clouded by the anxiety his wife's declining health began to cause him. Towards the close of the summer he repaired with her to East Cowes Castle, the seat of his friend, Mr. Nash, in the Isle of Wight, in the hope that the milder air would improve her condition. There, as her disease fluctuated, his mind continued in a state of alarming disquietude, pulsating from hope to despair, and from despair to hope. On the 27th of September he wrote to his friend Dumont :— "Since I last wrote to you Anne has been worse, and was certainly considered by both her medical attendants as being in some danger. She is at present a little better; but, for myself, I still apprehend the worst. I take care to let neither her nor the poor children see the anxiety I feel; but it costs me a good deal. With all this, do not suppose that I have not quite resolution enough to undergo everything, and to preserve my health for my children's sake." On the receipt of this letter, Mr. Dumont seems to have started for Cowes, where he found Lady Romilly so much improved as to be able to spend two or three hours daily in the society of her family and friends. Unfortunately, this improvement was only temporary. A severe relapse followed, and several days of acute suffering; during which, we are told, her husband's anguish could be equalled only by the pious fortitude and resolution with which he strove to control his emotions. But the nervous strain was excessive. Night after night he passed sleeplessly, or, if he slept, it was to be disturbed by such terrible dreams that he awoke unrefreshed and profoundly shaken. At times he believed his faculties to be injured, and began to entertain fears of mental derangement, whilst still discharging with anxious regularity the duties he owed to his God, his country, his family. Struggling against the agony that threatened to overwhelm him, he devoted to his children and friends the time that remained to him from his attendance in the sick chamber of his wife. With Mr. Dumont he held the most intimate and unrestrained conversations, discussing his projects for the future, and his plans for the education and establishment of his children. There is something sadly significant in the last few entries in his diary.* He was evidently unable to sit down and record the day's events with his usual calm ness : "Sept. 3rd. Arrived at Cowes. 12th. Anne went into the sea-bath. 13th. Taken ill. 14th. Sailed with Mr. Fazakerley to Southampton. 16th. Consulted with Mr. Bloxam [a local medical practitioner]. 19th. [Dr.] Royet and William arrived, and Mr. Nash. Oct. 9th. Slept for the first time after many sleepless nights. 10th. Relapse of Anne." Relapse of Anne !" These are the last few but most significant words. Having written them, he laid down his pen, as if he felt that his life's record was closed. About the middle of October his sister, to whom he * Memoirs, iii. 368. affording the only prospect of suppressing crimes, the laws, whatever they were, ought to be executed. Over this golden bridge the young man had no wish to retreat; and he replied: "No, no; it is not that. There is no good done by mercy; they only get worse. I would hang them all up at once." Eventually the bill was passed; but Romilly was forced to strike out the declaration of principle embodied in the preamble: “Whereas, the extreme severity of penal law hath not been found effectual for the prevention of crimes, but, on the contrary, by increasing the difficulty of convicting offenders, in some cases affords them impunity, and in most cases renders their punishment extremely uncertain." His next legislation was in amendment of the Bankruptcy Law; and then, in 1810, he resumed his attack upon the penal code, introducing three bills to repeal the statutes of William III., Queen Anne, and George II., by which the capital penalty might be inflicted for privately stealing in a shop goods to the value of five shillings, or in a dwelling-house, or on board a vessel in a navigable river. It is difficult now to believe that these measures would be bitterly opposed by such men as Windham, an orator of genius, a scholar, and a gentleman; and by Percival, the Prime Minister. Yet such was the fact; and almost every member of the Government followed on the same side. Romilly had the satisfaction, however, of being supported by the eloquence of Canning and the authority of Wilberforce. Notwithstanding their valuable assistance, notwithstanding the strength of his arguments and the accumulated testimony of his facts, he was defeated. His first bill passed the Commons, but was rejected by the Lords; his second, |
