He has shown how much may be done for a place in hours of leisure byone master spirit, and how completely it can give its own impress tosurrounding objects. Like his own Lorenzo De' Medici, on whom he seemsto have fixed his eye as on a pure model of antiquity, he hasinterwoven the history of his life with the history of his nativetown, and has made the foundations of its fame the monuments of hisvirtues. Wherever you go in Liverpool, you perceive traces of hisfootsteps in all that is elegant and liberal. He found the tide ofwealth flowing merely in the channels of traffic; he has diverted fromit invigorating rills to refresh the garden of literature. By hisown example and constant exertions he has effected that union ofcommerce and the intellectual pursuits, so eloquently recommended inone of his latest writings:* and has practically proved howbeautifully they may be brought to harmonize, and to benefit eachother. The noble institutions for literary and scientific purposes,which reflect such credit on Liverpool, and are giving such an impulseto the public mind, have mostly been originated, and have all beeneffectively promoted, by Mr. Roscoe; and when we consider therapidly increasing opulence and magnitude of that town, which promisesto vie in commercial importance with the metropolis, it will beperceived that in awakening an ambition of mental improvement amongits inhabitants, he has effected a great benefit to the cause ofBritish literature.
* Address on the opening of the Liverpool Institution.
In America, we know Mr. Roscoe only as the author- in Liverpool heis spoken of as the banker; and I was told of his having beenunfortunate in business. I could not pity him, as I heard some richmen do. I considered him far above the reach of pity. Those who liveonly for the world, and in the world, may be cast down by the frownsof adversity; but a man like Roscoe is not to be overcome by thereverses of fortune. They do but drive him in upon the resources ofhis own mind; to the superior society of his own thoughts; which thebest of men are apt sometimes to neglect, and to roam abroad in searchof less worthy associates. He is independent of the world aroundhim. He lives with antiquity and posterity; with antiquity, in thesweet communion of studious retirement; and with posterity, in thegenerous aspirings after future renown. The solitude of such a mind isits state of highest enjoyment. It is then visited by those elevatedmeditations which are the proper aliment of noble souls, and are, likemanna, sent from heaven, in the wilderness of this world.
While my feelings were yet alive on the subject, it was my fortuneto light on further traces of Mr. Roscoe. I was riding out with agentleman, to view the environs of Liverpool, when he turned off,through a gate, into some ornamented grounds. After riding a shortdistance, we came to a spacious mansion of freestone, built in theGrecian style. It was not in the purest taste, yet it had an air ofelegance, and the situation was delightful. A fine lawn sloped awayfrom it, studded with clumps of trees, so disposed as to break asoft fertile country into a variety of landscapes. The Mersey was seenwinding a broad quiet sheet of water through an expanse of greenmeadow-land; while the Welsh mountains, blended with clouds, andmelting into distance, bordered the horizon.
This was Roscoe's favorite residence during the days of hisprosperity. It had been the seat of elegant hospitality and literaryretirement. The house was now silent and deserted. I saw the windowsof the study, which looked out upon the soft scenery I have mentioned.
The windows were closed- the library was gone. Two or threeill-favored beings were loitering about the place, whom my fancypictured into retainers of the law. It was like visiting someclassic fountain, that had once welled its pure waters in a sacredshade, but finding it dry and dusty, with the lizard and the toadbrooding over the shattered marbles.