The Sun.
London, England, 1827-04-25 00:00:00

THE OFFICE OF CHANCELLOR.

The title of Chancellor originated with the Ro-
mans. It was adopted by the Church, and became
a half ecclesiastical and half lay office. The Chan-
cellor was intrusted with all public instruments
which were authenticated; and when seals came
into use, the custody of them was confided to that
officer. The mere delivery of the King's great seal,
or the taking it away, is all the ceremony that is
used in creating or unmaking a Chancellor, the Of-
ficer of the greatest weight and power subsisting in
the kingdom. The first Chancellor in England was
appointed in the reign of William the Conqueror,
and with only one exception, it was enjoyed by
ecclesiastics until the time of Elizabeth, when such
Officers were called Keepers of the Great Seal.—
From the time of Sir Thomas More's appointment,
which took place in the reign just mentioned, there
is only one instance of a clergyman having been ele-
vated to the effice--namely, Dr. Williams, Dean
of Westminster, in the time of James I.

The Chancellor is a Privy Councillor by office,
and Speaker of the House of Lords by prescription.
To him belongs the appointment of all Justices of
the Peace throughout the kingdom. When the
Chancellor was an ecclesiastic, he became Keeper
of the King's Conscience, and remainea 80, He is
also visitor of all hospitals and colleges of the King's
foundation. He is patron of all livings under 201.
per annum, in the King's book. He is the general
guardian of all infants, idiots, and lunatics, and has
the superintendence of all charitable institutions in
the kingdom. He takes precedence of every tem-
poral Lord, except the Royal Family, and of all
others, except the Archbishop of Canterbury. It
is declared treason by statute of Edward HI. to slay
the Chancellor in his house, and doing his office.
In the year 1689, there were Commissioners ap-
pointed for executing the office of Lord Chancellor.

ANECDOTES OF
WASHINGTON IRVING, JEFFRAY, SIR W.
SCOTT, AND DAVID WILLISON.

" Mrs. Ibbottson made her appearance amongst us
last evening, and, I regret to say, for the last time.
She entered the drawing-room about nine, with a
sheet of paper in her hand : Mrs. Bradbury, I be-
lieve you collect autographs ;—here is one of
Washington Irving ; he writes the best English
of any man I know—Hall, of Leicester, ex-
cepted—and a most entertaining creature he is.'
He is a friend of yours ?" No, I cannot boast
even of his personal acquaintance ; but I have met
him more than once in general society; and when
you can succeed in drawing him out, I know not
a more delightful companion." Come, describe
him to us,' said Barbara. I'd attempt it. He is a
very well-dressed, good-humoured looking man ; if
not handsome, at least very prepossessing in appear-
ance, though his countenance has not that intellec-
tual expression which his writings would lead one to
expect. The most remarkable feature is his eye; it
is large and full, with a very soft dreamy expression
—a look of indolent repose in it, which strikes one
at first sight very forcibly. I scanned it, and fancieti
that Mr. Irving could never be accused of early ris-
ing; and I half suspected that he admired Gray',
description of Paradise, to lie on a sofa and reac
new novels.' But with all this, he possesses a keen'
perception of the ludicrous; and if any object or
Phrase presents itself which excites this feeling, his
eye lights up with astonishing brilliancy; the
dreamy, dozing look gives way to an expression of
wit and humour, of talent and irresistible mirth,—it
is not ill-natured enough for satire,—which make!,
one ready to laugh with him. Of this I had an op-
portunity of judging for myself the very last evening
I had the good fortune to meet him. It was at a
friend's house. Among the party was Mr. Martin
—Belshazzar Martin, I call him—you've seen, of
course, the splendid picture which entitles him ti
the epithet ; a Mr. Hudson, a young miniature
painter of very promising talents, a nephew of Mrs.
Laurie, of Lincoln; and a Miss—l won't give her
name—a most delightful old maid. I call her de-
lightful, because her dress, manner, topics, style
of conversation, and mode of proceeding, were be-
yond measure droll and diverting. She was attired
in a pea-green silk frock, with a flaming orange tur-
ban, in which waved to and fro, in a most lugubrious
manner, a single white ostrich feather; her shoes
were a light crimson, and her sash Waterloo blue.—
Her eyes were black, and rolled about with a very
roguish leer; her figure that of a scarecrow. She
looked as if, in her youth, all the world had turned
up her nose at her, and now, as if she turned up het
nose at all the world ; she could not, for her life,
sound an r or a w, so she said, she wang the bell
fou times,' and asked quat as that ?' Before she
made her appearance, Mr. Irving seemed dreamy
and stupid, but the moment he caught a glimpse
of this delicious creature, his eye flashed, not ire, but
fun. He seemed actually to devour her. I think
I overheard him ask Martin if he could, with a
pencil and card, make a little sketch of her : she
was a gem of the purest water,' and I fancy Martin
slyly did so. She, meanwhile, was prodigal of her
smiles and antics, flattering herself she made a con-
quest, and by no means insensible to the eclat of
having captivated the author of the Sketch Book
—while his eyes, carefully attendant to all her move-
ments, twinkled with a degree of mirth that was
quite infectious. I see how the game goes,' said I
to Mr. Hudson ; that unfortunate Miss --,
Irving is sketching her off from life!" Sketching
her, Madam ? He has taken her away piecemeal—
limb by limb—and he'll show up the first opportu-
nity !" He writes a wretched hand, however,' said
the lofty Mrs. Floyer. 6 Admirable, you mean?—
' Pray did you ever see Jeffrey's scrawl, or the pot-
hooks of Dr. Chalmers, of Glasgow ?' Never.'—
`
Then you are no judge of the beauties or varieties
of human writing. I've had a note from the latter
lying by me these three years, and I've never been
able to decipher it yet, nor have I ever met with a
being who could. I shewed it to Professoe Lee, as
Arabic, written to me by the celebrated Mirza Seid
Moorshedabad, of Ispahan ! He said at once, I
can make neither head nor tail of it. But pray,
Madam, preserve it ; it's a very great curiosity.' As
to little Jeffray's calligraphy, you shall hear what
Mr. Willison, of Edinburgh, said to me respect-
ing it. But stop—l must tell the story in my
own way. I was at Modern Athens in the
Autumn of 1818, and being known to Mr. Con-
stable, was asked more than once to his house. In
particular, I remember meeting, at a dinner, in Park-
place, a number of literary men, and among the rest
Professor Leslie and Francis Jeffrey. Of the Pro-
fessor, I am ashamed to say, I did not think much.
He might be an adept in natural philosophy, old I
dare say he was, and conversant with science in
general, but most assuredly the only science with
which he betrayed any acquaintance on that occasion
was the science of good eating! He laughed, and
crammed, and seemed particularly intent on getting
his own share of the dainties before him ; but not
one single observation did he drop which might not
have been uttered by the most common-place turtle-
eating Alderman. As to Jeffray, I never heard a
man talk so fast, or woman ei her; the rapidity with
which, after dinner, one idea followed another, (he
said little before, and looked fagged and jaded,) was
to me, who then saw him for the first time, matter
of pure amazement. But though he talks ably and
fluently, he does not talk pleasantly; there is a dash
of conceit and arrogance in his manner—a bitterness
and sarcasm in his tone of feeling—which will not
stand the test of reflection; there is not an atom of

*.
• repose about him. In pertiorgle .is thitt
spare, acute-looking man, wrtttpt ,frog,
_eye,
,And, take -it altogether, a ameluip
nance. One listens-to his etinveraigipdatia, topic*,
at his saturnine complexion, and fancilik that-there is
redundancy of bile both in his morel and physical
constitution; and feels_ persuaded' that a few more
grains of self-knowledge would be'as' beneficial to
the one, as six weeks' residence at Cheltenham
would be to the other. The most extraordinary
thing about him is the rapidity with-which he catches,
comprehends, and answers your ideas; long before
I had finished my sentence, and often when a few
words only had escaped me, he had anticipated my
reply, and had advanced half way in his rejoinder!
This happened again and again, and I was comforted
by observing, to others us well as to myself. Yet
after all, gifted as lie is, his powers, great as they
are, do not leave a pleasing impression on the mind.
The head may be all wisdom, the heart all gall !
The compass and versatility of his attainments—the
point and power of his conversation—the brilliancy
of his sallies—and the bitterness of his invective—
all fail to disguise the melancholy.truth that Jeffrey
is a disappointed man. True, his sneer is. withering
—his sarcasm cutting—let him pride himself on
both; there is no peace or harmony within ! A day
or two afterwards, I met, in a smaller circle, at Park-
place, old Mr. David Willison, father-in-law to Con-
stable, and printer of the -Edinburgh Review from
its commencement. He was one 0 the most in,
telligent, amusing old men.
I ~evor met . with.
Strange that the plinterat ihe. Edinburgh Re-
view should be a staunch tory ! Ah,' says
he, I've pre-served my principles. I've pionecrt d
all their abominations through the press ; but
my politics are my own ! I say nothing agen
their lucubrations on science and belles letters; but
the Lord preserve me from their opinions on religion
and politics ! Eh, sirs, they are blind guides.' I
turned the conversation on Jeffrey. Jeffrey ! he's
worse than them all put thegither., Many and mony's
the time I thought that mon would have driven me
daft. Oh, I know him weel. Ire had more to do
with him than was ever agreeable to me ! Did yon
ever see his writing ? Of all the pothooks—Lord
save us, a cook-maid could have written better with
a skewer ! He's often sent me sheets which were
actually illegible—a mass of mere up and down
strokes—l could have wept to look at them ! Per,
haps I could make out the first letter—say it was a
p—well, then, all the rest was a matter of guess
work; and whether it was particular, or praise.
worthy, or professional, or party spirit, or periwinkle,
I had to conjecture from the context. Surely never
man made such ag, 1, and p, as he does ! And then
the cantrips which his highness would occasionally
play up ! Often when 1 had got a whole number
in type, he would come down, cancel three 'or four
articles, and leave me as many fresh ones in their
place. And times beyond number he has presented
himself to me, seen the proof of a long and diffi-
cult article, and altered and remodelled every line of
it! And then if we made a mistake or two more
than ordinary, he would fume, and rage, and fret,
and talk of his time and our stupidity, as if his
writing was copperplate ! • l've often said to Mr.
Constable, Jeffrey will drive me demented at last ;
and if ever I'm put into a madhouse, see that he pays
the charge o't. But wby didn't Constable inter-
fere ?" Constable interfere ! Save ye : where's the
human being that Jeffrey would bear a word from ?
Constable has less influence with him than you or
any creature would suppose. Often and often, when
he would willingly have had a particular work re-
viewed, or an article upon some passing topic, he could
not for his life and soul get it. He once asked Jef-
"l-ay, point blank, to oblige him in this way ; but lie
never repeated the experiment. The case was this :
Constable had given Walter .Scott a very consider-
'ble sum for his edition of Swift's works. It sold
;lowly ; and my son-in-law intimated an urgent wish
o Jeffray that an article should appear in the next
Number of the Edinburgh. Jeffrey n:inself reviewed
it ; and in such a strain of unexampled severity, that
he nearly damned the affair altogether. Swift's
character,—personal, literary, political,—he made
mince-meat of it Again : when Matnrin's novel of
Women, or Pour et Contre, canke.out.. Walter Si ott,
\laturin's private and particular friend, wrote a very
favourable review of it. As written by Scott, Jef-
fray gladly admitted it into the Review; its tone
was highly favourable; but when it appeared in print,
such was the cutting and maiming to which it had
seen subjected, that Mr. Scott could hardly teceg-
lise his own article ! Scott's a noble fellow,' said
the old printer : he's one of the most generous,
TenThearted men that ever breathed. Ay, lie's on
the right side, too'—and he sipped his Mrs.
Ibbottson, by your leave, we'll drink his very good
health.' Good, excellent old man, -I never sew him
again.' Mrs. Ibbottson,' said four or five in a
breath, ' did you hear any thing as to the author of
Waverley—it is Scott ?' I can only tell you this
-that there appeared to me to be more cordiality,
more unreserved frankness, greater intimacy, and a
better understanding existing between Mr Scott and
\lr. Constable than between him and any other
(iterateur whom I saw in Park-place. And his wel-
come—(though Con Stable was always most hospit-
able, and to men of letters liberal even to muni-
icence)—l thought—or fancied—was warmer.'
Did you ever mention the subject to Mr. Consta-
ble?' Yes; once I asked him, what were the cir-
cumstances which led to-the publication of the first
of the Waverley novels ; as till that time he had not
introduced to the world many prose works of fiction ?
lie said, No, I had not ; but I read it, and so sure
was I that it would sell, that I offered the author
:even hundred and fifty pounds for the copyright.
This he—viewing it in the light of an experiment,
and diffident as to its success,-said was too. much ;
and for the present, at least, would only take part
of it.' This, if my memory is not !platially treacher-
ous, is the sum and substance of all that I could
learn from Mr. C. respectitigit.'"-=-Living and Dead.

The number of cases which remain undecided
in the Court otChancery, is said to be 350 ; of
which it is conjectured the Ex-Chancellor will
pronounce judgment in about 120. The ma-
jority of these, however, are bankrupt and lunatic
petitions.
BRITISH SAILORS AND PORTUGUESE NO-
I LE.—There are three British ships of the line
in the river Tagus at present, and no frigates:—
The health of the crews is in the best state pos-
sible, owing to the fineness of the climate, and
the regulations adopted by the Admiral. They
are never allowed to go on shore, except on
duty, and consequently have no opportunity of
indulging in wine, or quarrelling with the inha-
bitants. Any quarrels that have arisen may be
attributed in a great measure to the rough man-
ners, and perhaps contemptuous conduct of our
countrymen. The British people in general are
not famous for their suavity of manner; the Bri?
tish sailor still less so ; and in this scorching
clime, when the blood is so hot, ever and anon
at the boiling point, when the people are so sen-
sible to trifles, a threat or contemptuous look
would be often sufficient to drive these sons of
the south to madness, and make them risk not
' only the life of an antagonist, but evet their own
lives, to satiate revenge. 1 have heard of no
sanguinary quarrels, such as took place at Lis-
bon, since the army went into the interior, and
am convinced, that if the natives had not been
unnecessarily provoked and insulted, few or no
fatal affrays would have occurred. As far as I
have had an opportunity of judging, the people,
with all their faults, are sensible of kindness, and
ever ready to return any little attention or civi-
lity. All the marines still remain ashore at Be-
lem, or the neighbourhood. No other reasons
have been assigned for their landing than the
advantage of exercise, and the benefit which the
sailors may derive from having more room on
board the ships.