Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine - Volume 61, No. 376, February, 1847. Various

then Vice-treasurer of Ireland, who gave his son an appointment in the Vice-treasurer's office at Dublin Castle. Sir George quickly detected the superior talents and acquirements of young Smith, and became much attached to him; evincing peculiar satisfaction in conversing with him, and listening to his quaint, exact, pithy answers to questions proposed to him. About this time he was smitten with the love of Lord Byron's poetry, which he devoured with avidity, and his own love of verse-writing revived. He became, indeed, very anxious to excel in poetry. He was soon tired of his official duties, and resigned his situation in favour of his brother, who at this moment fills a responsible office in the same department in Dublin Castle.

      In the year 1826, being then in his seventeenth year, Mr. Smith entered Trinity College, Dublin, where his whole career was, as might have been expected, one of easy triumph. He constantly carried off the highest classical premiums, and occasionally those in science, as well as—whenever he tried—for composition. In 1829, he gained a scholarship, and in the ensuing year obtained the highest honours in the power of Trinity College to bestow, namely, the gold medal for classics. He thought so little, however, of distinctions gained so easily, that he either forgot, or at all events neglected, even to apply for his gold medal till several years afterwards; when, happening to be in Dublin, and conversation turning upon the prize which he had obtained, he said, in a modest, casual kind of way, to a friend, "By the way, I never went after the medal; but I think, as I'm here, I'll go and see about it." This he did, and the medal was of course immediately delivered to its phlegmatic oblivious winner! He was a great favourite at college, for he bore his honours with perfect meekness and modesty, was very kind and obliging to all desiring his assistance, and displayed, on all occasions, that truthful simplicity and straightforwardness of character, which, as we have already seen, he had borne from his birth. He was much beloved, in short, by all his friends and relations; and one of the latter, his uncle, Mr. Connor, an Irish Master in Chancery, confidently predicted that "John William would live to be an honour to his profession and friends." In 1829, he joined his family, who were settled in Versailles, and spent some time there. In the ensuing year, his father, who possessed a first-rate capacity for business, was appointed Vice-treasurer and Paymaster-general of the forces in Ireland, and was obliged to reside in Dublin, whither he accordingly soon afterwards repaired with his family. His son, John William, however, remained in London, having determined upon forthwith commencing his studies for the English bar: a step which his father and he had for some time before contemplated; as it appears, from the records of the Inner Temple, that he was entered as student for the bar on the 20th June, 1827, which was during his second year at Trinity College. The facility with which he not only got through the requisite studies, but obtained every honour for which he thought proper to compete, allowed of his devoting much of his attention at that time to the acquisition of legal knowledge. He procured a copy, therefore, of Blackstone; that, I believe, which had appeared a year or two before, edited by the present (then Sergeant,) Mr. Justice Coleridge,—the only edition of the Commentaries of which he approved, and which he used to the last,—and read it through several times with profound attention, as he has often told me; expressing himself as having been charmed by the purity and beauty of Blackstone's style, his remarkable power of explaining abstruse subjects, and his perspicuous arrangement. The next book which he read was, I believe, "Cruise's Digest of the Laws of England, respecting Real Property," in seven volumes octavo, a standard work of great merit; which, while at college, he read, I think, twice over, and continued perfectly familiar with it for the rest of his life. He also read carefully through nearly the whole of Coke upon Littleton, which he told me he found very "troublesome," and that he had expended much valuable time and attention on some of the most difficult portions, which he very soon afterwards found to be utterly obsolete, particularly mentioning those concerning "homage," "fealty," "knight-service," "wardship," &c. The above may seem a great undertaking for vacant hours at college, but will not appear to any of Mr. Smith's friends to have been such to him, who read as rapidly, as he attended closely to, and tenaciously retained what he had read. It may here be mentioned, that in this particular, viz. reading law at college, Mr. Smith resembled Sir William Follett, who also devoted himself with ardour to the study of the law when at Cambridge, but did not, like Mr. Smith, also gain the highest college honours; for Sir William never competed, or at all events never obtained college honours of any kind. Mr. Smith commenced keeping terms at the beginning, I believe, of 1830; and it was at the mess-table of the Inner Temple Hall that I, who had also shortly before come up from Edinburgh University for the same purpose, first had the happiness and the honour of becoming acquainted with my late distinguished friend. He was then in about his twenty-first year. I distinctly recollect the first time of our meeting, which was at the aforesaid mess-table; and that his appearance struck me as that of a bashful and awkward person dull and taciturn, with a formal precise way of speaking, and a slight abruptness of manner. If Lord Bacon's saying be correct, that a good face is a letter of recommendation—poor John William Smith may be said to have come without a character! How little did I dream of the bright jewel hid in so plain and frail a casket: how often have I felt ashamed of my own want of discernment: what a lesson has it been never again to contract any sort of prejudice against a man from personal appearance! It was not till I had known him for nearly a year, owing partly to our unfrequent meetings, and his absence, that I began to be sensible of his superior talents and acquirements. His personal appearance was, it must be candidly owned, certainly insignificant and unprepossessing. He was of slight make, a trifle under the middle height, his hair was rather light, and his complexion pale. He wore spectacles, being excessively near-sighted, and had a very slight cast in his eyes, which were somewhat full and prominent. The expression of his features, at all events when in repose, was neither intellectual nor engaging, but they improved when he was animated or excited in conversation. His forehead, however, was, though retreating, lofty, and I have heard it characterised as intellectual. At the time of which I am speaking, he used to wear a white hat, placed so far back on his head, that it gave him, to a stranger, almost a ludicrous aspect. His utterance was slow, his demeanour very solemn; and he would sit at dinner for a long time silent, till you would be surprised by his bursting into a short, sudden, but very hearty laugh, when any thing had been said which tickled his fancy; for I found out before long that he had a great taste for the ludicrous, an exquisite perception of humour. When he shook hands with you, he placed his cold hand into yours, like a dead man's hand—even with his most intimate friends—instead of greeting you with a hearty cordial grasp or pressure. How long again this little circumstance misled me as to his supposed insensibility to the claims of friendship or affection! whereas the very reverse was the case; for he was a most firm and devoted friend, and of an exquisite delicacy and sensitiveness of feeling. He did not, at first, as the phrase is, make way with his companions, nor appear desirous of doing so. I recollect, on one occasion, that he and I remained the last at the dinner-table; and, though he sate opposite to me for some minutes, thoughtfully balancing his wine-glass in his hand, an empty decanter being between us, he spoke not a syllable; and I was watching him (his eyes being directed towards the floor) with an amused curiosity, on account of his apparent eccentricity, when he suddenly said, "Mr. Warren, will you take a walk with me up Regent Street, or any where else, as it is such a fine evening?" What passed through my mind, on being thus unexpectedly encountered, was, "Well—he's a curiosity, and seems to know no one—so I will;" and, having said as much, we rose. He walked down the hall, and we took off our gowns in the ante-room, and quitted the building, without his having uttered a syllable! I recollect feeling almost inclined to be offended. We then walked about the town till nearly nine o'clock, and I think he talked a little about France, and we compared notes together concerning Dublin and Edinburgh Universities. I quitted him, musing upon his quaint manner, and his solemn precision of language: but nothing that had passed between us gave me the idea of his being a person of superior ability or acquirements. He was, indeed, a very shy and modest man. It was not, for instance, till after a seven years' intimacy, that I knew of the distinction which he had obtained at college; and on my asking him, one day, whether it was true that he had obtained the gold medal, he blushed, slightly moved his head aside, and, after a pause, said, in a tone rather even of displeasure than gratification, "Possibly I did!" and we dropped the subject. In the year 1830, he entered the chambers of Richard Grainger Blick, Esquire, one of the most eminent special pleaders in the Temple, and who has assured me, that he always considered Mr. John William Smith to be a remarkable man. Probably there never before entered the chambers