Alexandria Gazette

LYNDHURST AS LORD CHANCELLOR.

BY AN AMERICAN IN ENGLAND.

The present Lord High Chancellor of England is Lord Lyndhurst—the son of the late Mr. Copley—an American, and eminent painter of his day. This distinguished personage, in virtue of his office, presides over the House of Lords, and in that character sits on the "wool-sack." When on duty he wears a large full bottomed wig, which nearly also covers his shoulders, and is dressed in a black gown. His appearance is exceedingly quaint and 'all of the olden time.' His father during the period of his life when his pencil was most skilful, could not have desired a better study for a picture of "a Lord High Chancellor of England" than this—his son now presents.

He is now about seventy-three years of age. I am told he was once a very handsome man; but at present I would incline to describe his personal appearance otherwise—a sour, stern, hard-in-hand expression—enough to occupy all the "wool sacks" of England. I have not heard him speak often and then very briefly; his delivery is remarkably fluent and easy, without any peculiar gesture or mannerism. I found him generally grasping with each hand a fold of his gown opposite his chest, and confining his action and emphasis to his head and wig—whilst saying what he had to say, in an easy and entirely unembarrassed manner—the tone of his voice being also very agreeable. He is listened to with the most marked attention, being regarded as a man of quick and clear perceptions and sound judgment.

When I first saw him the expression of his face gave me an idea that he was suffering pain, and I was not long left in doubt of this—for before the evening closed, he was called on to receive some bills from the House of Commons, which had been brought to the bar of the House of Lords by a Committee, and he was obliged to leave the wool sack to attend to that duty. I then discovered that he walked with evident pain. and on enquiry, was told that he suffers much from rheumatism. This ceremony of receiving Bills struck me very oddly. A committee of some three or four members of the other House brought with them to the bar of the House of Lords, a bundle of papers neatly folded and endorsed. The usher (answering I suppose to our sergeant-at-arms,) then coming up to the bar (or rail which separates the space for strangers from the body of the House where the members sit,) announced with a little of the "Cockney" "me Luds, a message from the Ouse of Commons!" The Lord Chancellor would then leave the wool sack, and taking up an embroidered bag or satchel, which lay upon a little table near him, would wend his way down to the bar, stop and bow once or twice to the Committee, throw the bag on the rail, and receive a Bill, which he would take in one hand and his bag in the other, go back to his place, where the Bill by its title would be read and laid on the table. This done, the usher would again announce from the bar. "Me Luds, a message for the Ouse of Commons." And the same ceremony would be again repeated, not even omitting the "double bow" of the Lord Chancellor and approaching and leaving the committee at the bar.

After making five or six journeys, I was surprised to hear the old gentleman enquire sotto voce "how many more of them have you?" And the answer was, "not many more, me Lud." I think I counted some ten or twelve distinct journeys up and down, with as many separate bills, the only waste of time I noticed in all their proceedings. But it seems the rule is, that every bill must be thus separately and distinctly received—with the bag although not in the bag.

It was as the English say "very odd," to see an old man very much annoyed by rheumatism, and dressed up with that big wig and gown, walking off with an embroidered bag in one hand and a roll of paper in the other, recalled again to the same duty a dozen times by the same announcement, "me Luds, a message from the Ouse of Commons," when one journey with or without "the bag" would have sufficed. And then too at the meeting or adjournment of the House of Lords comes another ceremony, the Usher shouldering the "big mace," (which Cromwell once, irreverently called "a bauble," ) leading out the Lord Chancellor, the legal adviser of the crown and the legitimate depository of its conscience."

I felt an additional respect and instinctive regard for this dignitary, on recognizing him as the son of an American. Nor could I fail to trace a strong family likeness, on recalling the face of old Mrs. Startin, his aunt, who for years occupied a snug dwelling on Broadway, near, if not now a part of the "American Hotel," and an excellent and estimable old lady she was too. These links, in the "electric chain of memory" are not without influence, and whenever I saw the Lord Chancellor on duty, my mind would instinctively go home. In fact, when I saw him as head man, in full rig, leading in the Queen and the whole of her appendages, on the occasion of the Prorogation of Parliament—(a very imposing scene)—and the crowd admitted within the walls, all giving space and gazing admiringly at the top of their bent—and whilst those near me were remarking upon the dignity and imposing appearance and manner of the Lord High Chancellor of England, I was reminded of the enthusiastic Spaniard at a bull fight who, (when a noble animal, from his part of Spain, entered the arena and cleared it of all obstructions)—exclaimed—"Senores y Senoras—Este Toro, es un Paisano mio!"*

I regret not having yet had an opportunity to hear the Lord Chancellor speak at length. I am told his manner and ready utterance are very striking, and what little I have heard him say gives evidence of this. He is regarded also as a man of great courtesy and amiability, with a most agreeable abandon—his appearance does not indicate this—his expression of face is severe and unyielding, it may be Rheumatism but he looked to me always as if he had just bitten a crab apple.

*Ladies and Gentlemen this bull is a countryman of mine.