observations for serious insults.[1] Another day Barré told him that he had got into a scrape with the lawyers by publishing the Theory of Morals and Legislation, which was written at Bowood, and Bentham imagined at once that the Colonel had a dark design in making this observation. His host asked him on another occasion, "What it was Mr. Bentham could do for him," and Mr. Bentham at once saw in the remark the evidence of another dark design.[2] This is how he describes his first meeting with Dunning. "It was one evening after dinner that he made his appearance. He came fresh from Bristol, of which city he was Recorder. I found him standing in a small circle, recounting his exploits. They were such as, when associated with the manner in which he spoke of them, and the feelings that sat on his countenance, brought up to me Lord Chief Justice Jefferies. He had been the death of two human beings: he looked and spoke as if regretting there had not been two thousand. Upon my approach, the scowl that sat on his brow seemed more savage than before. The cause I had not at that time any suspicion of: the effect was but too visible. As I came up, he was wiping his face: the weather was warm, and he had in various ways been heated. It was the tail only of a sentence that I heard. It appeared to me incorrect: I expressed a hope that it was so. Subdued and respectful (I well remember) was my tone; for, notwithstanding the freedom to which no member of the Bar could have been unaccustomed—the temerity, such as it was, was by no means unaccompanied with the fear of giving offence. The scowl was deeper still: he made no answer: he took no further notice of me."[3] Dunning was indeed very ugly; his contemporaries said his ugliness was such that no artist less experienced than Sir Joshua Reynolds could give adequate expression to it;[4] but on Bentham the scowl of Dunning produced no temporary effect; years after, when Dunning was dead, he continued to depreciate his
