Unfortunately persistent ill-health, aggravated by years of overwork and constant strain, had taxed to the uttermost a delicate constitution, and in March 1837, after a few weeks of suffering, he died at the age of thirty-six.
But for his early death he would certainly have risen to high distinction in his profession. His talents and learning, combined with his moral worth and charming personality, endeared him to his family and to a large circle of friends.
An appreciation by Henry Chorley speaks of him as the most gifted of the sons of the Italian historian—of quick sympathy and solid judgment, and with such instant justice and strength of decision as belongs to a truthful, acute, and strong man.
Certain of his legal books were standard works long after his death. Somebody once asked Sir Henry Roscoe if “Roscoe on Evidence” was any connection of his. “No nearer than that of father,” was the reply.
In 1831 he married Maria Fletcher, second daughter of a respected Liverpool merchant, and chairman of the West Indian Committee,
An honest man … Broadcloth without and a warm heart within,
who also was ruined by the failure of a Liverpool bank. Her maternal grandfather, Dr. William Enfield, author of a “History of Liverpool” and of the well-known “Speaker,” a man distinguished for elegance of taste and sound literary judgment, was the last rector of the famous Warrington Academy, where he had as colleagues at one time or another, Joseph Priestley, the chemist; Taylor of Norwich; Aikin, the father of Mrs. Barbauld; John Reinhold Forster, the naturalist to one of Cook’s expeditions; and Gilbert Wakefield, the editor of “Lucretius.”
Henry Roscoe brought his young wife to 10 Powis Place, Great Ormond Street, London, and here on January 7, 1833, his only son, Henry Enfield Roscoe, first saw the light. A daughter, Harriet, was born in 1836.
The young judge had little opportunity of making provision for his family, and on his death they were left with very straitened means. His widow moved with her children into a small cottage at Gateacre, and as she had considerable artistic gifts sought to add to her slender income by teaching water-colour painting at a girls’ school in the vicinity. She also possessed some of the literary power of her distinguished grandfather, and in 1868 published a “Life of Vittoria Colonna,” with admirable translations of the sonnets. She was a strong, vigorous character, devotedly attached to her son and proud of his success in life. Her Manchester friends used playfully to refer to her as “the Mother of Owens College,” and the allusion to her association with its fortunes gave her pleasure. She was always deeply interested in its progress and rejoiced in its success. She died at the age of eighty-seven, falling “like autumn fruit that mellowed long.”