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3. A.
HARVARD COLLEGE
LIBRARY
††
FROM THE LIBRARY OF
FRANK DYER CHESTER
Class of 1891
&=2
The Gift of
JOSEPH C. WILLEY
1939


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A SELECTION OF THE MOST MEMORABLE PASSAGES
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HARWARD COLLEGF LIBRARY
FROM THE LIBRARY OF
FRANK DYER CHESTER
JUN; 12, 1939
Press of
G. P. PUTNAM's SONS
New York


WIT AND WISDOM OF SYDNEY SMITH.
RIGIN OF THE EDINBURGH REVIEW
(1802).--Towards the end of my resi-
dence in Edinburgh, Brougham, Jeffrey, and
myself happened to meet in the eighth or ninth
story or flat in Buccleugh Place, the then ele-
vated residence of Mr. Jeffrey. I proposed that
we should set up a Review. This was acceded
to with acclamation. I was appointed editor,
and remained long enough in Edinburgh to
edit the first number of the Review. The
motto I proposed for the Review was, “Tenui
Musam meditamur avená "-"We cultivate
literature on a little oatmeal.” But this was
too near the truth to be admitted; so we took
our present grave motto from Publius Syrus,
of whom none of us had, I am sure, read a
single line; and so began what has since turned
out to be a very important and able journal.
PUBLIC OPINION IN ENGLAND IN 1802.-
From the beginning of the century (about


2 $goney, 5mitb’s
which time the Review began), to the death of
Lord Liverpool, was an awful period for those
who ventured to maintain liberal opinions; and
who were too honest to sell them for the er-
mine of the judge, or the lawn of the prelate.
A long and hopeless career in your profession,
the chuckling grin of noodles, the sarcastic leer
of the genuine political rogue; prebendaries,
deans, bishops, made over your head; reverend
renegades advanced to the highest dignities of
the Church, for helping to rivet the fetters of
Catholic and Protestant Dissenters; and no
more chance of a Whig administration than of
a thaw in Zembla. These were the penalties
exacted for liberality of opinion at that period;
and not only was there no pay, but there were
many stripes.
It is always considered a piece of impertin-
ence in England if a man of less than two or
three thousand a year has any opinions at all
on important subjects; and in addition he was
sure to be assailed with all the Billingsgate
of the French Revolution. Jacobin, leveller,
atheist, Socinian, incendiary, regicide, were the
gentlest appellations used; and any man who
breathed a syllable against the senseless bigotry
of the two Georges, or hinted at the abomina-
ble tyranny and persecution exercised against
Catholic Ireland, was shunned as unfit for the


TÜlit amo (Uligoom 3
relations of social life. Not a murmur against
any abuse was permitted. To say a word against
the suitorcide delays of the Court of Chancery,
or the cruel punishments of the Game Laws, or
against any abuse which a rich man inflicted
and a poor man suffered, was treason against
the plousiocracy, and was bitterly and steadily
resented. Lord Grey had not then taken off
the bearing-rein from the English people, as
Sir Francis Head has now done from horses.
LABORS OF THE LIBERAL PARTY.—To ap-
preciate the value of the Edinburgh Review,
the state of England at the period when that
journal began should be had in remembrance.
The Catholics were not emancipated—the Cor-
poration and Test Acts were unrepealed—the
Game Laws were horribly oppressive—Steel
Traps and Spring Guns were set all over the
country—Prisoners tried for their Lives could
have no Counsel—Lord Eldon and the Court of
Chancery pressed heavily upon mankind—Libel
was punished by the most cruel and vindic-
tive imprisonments—the principles of Political
Economy were little understood—the Law of
Debt and Conspiracy were upon the worst pos-
sible footing—the enormous wickedness of the
Slave Trade was tolerated—a thousand evils
were in existence, which the talents of good


4 5gomey 5mitb’s
and able men have since lessened or removed;
and these effects have been not a little assisted
by the honest boldness of the Edinburgh
Review.
MODERN IMPROVEMENTS.—
“The good of ancient times let others state,
I think it lucky I was born so late.”
MR. EDITOR,--It is of some importance at
what period a man is born. A young man,
alive at this period, hardly knows to what im-
provements of human life he has been intro-
duced ; and I would bring before his notice the
following eighteen changes which have taken
place in England since I first began to breathe
in it the breath of life—a period amounting now
to nearly seventy-three years.
Gas was unknown : I groped about the streets
of London in all but the utter darkness of a
twinkling oil lamp, under the protection of
watchmen in their grand climacteric, and ex-
posed to every species of depredation and
insult.
I have been nine hours in sailing from Dover
to Calais before the invention of steam. It
took me nine hours to go from Taunton to
Bath, before the invention of railroads, and I
now go in six hours from Taunton to London |
In going from Taunton to Bath, I suffered


TUIft and (Uligoom 5
between Io,000 and I2,000 severe contusions,
before stone-breaking Macadam was born.
I paid I5l. in a single year for repairs of car-
riage-springs on the pavement of London; and
I now glide without noise or fracture, on
wooden pavements.
I can walk, by the assistance of the police,
from one end of London to the other, without
molestation ; or if tired, get into a cheap and
active cab, instead of those cottages on wheels,
which the hackney coaches were at the begin-
ning of my life.
I had no umbrella They were little used,
and very dear. There were no waterproof hats,
and my hat has often been reduced by rains
into its primitive pulp.
I could not keep my smallclothes in their
proper place, for braces were unknown. If I
had the gout, there was no colchicum. If I was
bilious, there was no calomel. If I was attacked
by ague, there was no quinine. There were
filthy coffee-houses instead of elegant clubs.
Game could not be bought. Quarrels about
uncommuted tithes were endless. The corrup-
tion of Parliament, before Reform, infamous.
There were no banks to receive the savings of
the poor. The Poor Laws were gradually sap-
ping the vitals of the country; and whatever
miseries I suffered, I had no post to whisk my


o $poney, $1mitb's
complaints for a single penny to the remotest
corners of the empire; and yet, in spite of all
these privations, I lived on quietly, and am
now ashamed that I was not more discontented,
and utterly surprised that all these changes and
inventions did not occur two centuries ago.
I forgot to add, that as the basket of stage
coaches, in which luggage was then carried, had
no springs, your clothes were rubbed all to
pieces; and that even in the best society one
third of the gentlemen at least were always
drunk.-[Memoir.]
SCOTLAND IN 1798.-It requires a surgical
operation to get a joke well into a Scotch un-
derstanding. Their only idea of wit, or rather
that inferior variety of this electric talent which
prevails occasionally in the North, and which,
under the name of wuT, is so infinitely distress-
ing to people of good taste, is laughing im-
moderately at stated intervals. They are so
imbued with metaphysics that they even make
love metaphysically. I overheard a young lady
of my acquaintance, at a dance in Edinburgh,
exclaim, in a sudden pause of the music :
“What you say, my Lord, is very true of love
in the aibstract, but—” here the fiddlers began
fiddling furiously, and the rest was lost. No
nation has so large a stock of benevolence of
_- *


TUlit ano (Uligoom 7
heart : if you meet with an accident, half Edin-
burgh immediately flocks to your door to in-
quire after your pure hand or your pure foot,
and with a degree of interest that convinces you
their whole hearts are in the inquiry. You find
they usually arrange their dishes at dinner by
the points of the compass ; “Sandy, put the
gigot of mutton to the south, and move the
singet sheep's head a wee bit to the nor-wast.”
If you knock at the door, you hear a shrill fe-
malevoice from the fifth flatshriek out: “Wha's
chapping at the door?” which is presently
opened by a lassie with short petticoats, bare
legs, and thick ankles. My Scotch servants
bargained they were not to have salmon more
than three times a week, and always pulled off
their stockings, in spite of my repeated objur-
gations, the moment my back was turned.
Their temper stands any thing but an attack on
their climate. They would have you even be-
lieve they can ripen fruit; and, to be candid, I
must own in remarkably warm summers I have
tasted peaches that made most excellent
pickles; and it is upon record that at the siege
of Perth, on one occasion, the ammunition
failing, their nectarines made admirable cannon
balls. Even the enlightened mind of Jeffrey
cannot shake off the illusion that myrtles
flourished at Craig Crook. In vain I have


8 $gomey 5mitb’s
represented to him that they are of the genus
Carduus, and pointed out their prickly pecu-
liarities. In vain I have reminded him that I
have seen hackney coaches drawn by four
horses in the winter, on account of the snow;
that I had rescued a man blown flat against my
door by the violence of the winds, and black
in the face; that even the experienced Scotch
fowls did not venture to cross the streets, but
sidled along, tails aloft, without venturing to
encounter the gale. Jeffrey sticks to his myrtle
illusions, and treats my attacks with as much
contempt as if I had been a wild visionary, who
had never breathed his caller air, nor lived and
suffered under the rigor of his climate, nor
spent five years in discussing metaphysics and
medicine in that garret of the earth — that
knuckle-end of England—that land of Calvin,
oat-cakes, and sulphur.—[Memoir.]
ANIMoSITY OF ENGLAND AND FRANCE IN
1798.-I now consider the war between France
and England no longer as an occasional quarrel
or temporary dispute, but as an antipathy and
national horror, after the same kind as subsists
between the kite and the crow, or the church-
warden and the pauper, the weasel and the rat,
the parson and the Deist, the bailiff and the
half-pay captain, etc., etc., who have persecuted


TCUlit amo Uligoom 9
each other from the beginning of time, and will
peck, swear, fly, preach at, and lie in wait for
each other till the end of time.—[Memoir.]
REvoluTIONARY STATE OF FRANCE.-If it
be visionary to suppose the grandeur and safety
of the two nations as compatible and coèxistent,
we have the important (though the cruel) con-
solation of reflecting, that the French have yet
to put together the very elements of a civil and
political constitution; that they have to expe-
rience all the danger and all the inconvenience
which result from the rashness and the imper-
fect views of legislators, who have every thing
to conjecture, and every thing to create; that
they must submit to the confusion of repeated
change, or the greater evil of obstinate perse-
verance in error; that they must live for a cen-
tury in that state of perilous uncertainty in
which every revolutionized nation remains, be-
fore rational liberty becomes feeling and habit,
as well as law, and is written in the hearts of
men as plainly as in the letter of the statute;
and that the opportunity of beginning this im-
mense edifice of human happiness is so far from
being presented to them at present, that it is
extremely problematical whether or not they
are to be bandied from one vulgar usurper to
another, and remain for a century subjugated to


IO $goney, 5mitb'g
the rigor of a military government, at once
the scorn and the scourge of Europe.*—
[E. R. 1803.]
REACTION IN FRANCE.-Is not the tide of
opinions, at this momeut, in France, setting
back with a strength equal to its flow 2 and is
there not reason to presume, that, for some
time to come, their ancient institutions may be
adored with as much fury as they were de-
stroyed?—[E. R. 1803.]
REPUBLICAN GOVERNMENT IN FRANCE.-A
love of equality is a very strong principle in a
republic ; therefore it does not tolerate heredi-
tary honor or wealth ; and a11 the effect pro-
duced upon the minds of the people by this
factitious power is lost, and the government
weakened; but in proportion as the government
is less able to command, the people should be
more willing to obey; therefore a republic is
better suited to a moral than an immoral
people.
Yet, though narrowness of territory, purity
of morals, and recent escape from despotism,
appear to be the circumstances which most
*All this is, unfortunately, as true now as it was when
written thirty years ago.—(S. S.) And not less true after
‘. lapse of another period of nearly thirty years in
I860,


TUI it amo Uligöom II
strongly recommend a republic, M. Necker
proposes it to the most numerous and the most
profligate people in Europe, who are disgusted
with the very name of liberty, from the in-
credible evils they have suffered in pursuit of it.
Whatever be the species of free government
adopted by France, she can adopt none without
the greatest peril.-[E. R. 1803.]
PoliticAL ExPERIENCE.--To call upon a
nation, on a sudden, totally destitute of such
knowledge and experience, to perform all the
manifold functions of a free constitution, is to
entrust valuable, delicate, and abstruse mecha-
nism to the rudest skill and the grossest
ignorance.—[E. R. 1803.]
OBSTAcLES TO FREEDOM IN FRANCE.-
The want of all the true elements of consti-
tutional government must retard, for a very long
period, the practical enjoyment of liberty in
France, and present very serious obstacles to
her prosperity; obstacles little dreamed of by
men who seem to measure the happiness and
future grandeur of France by degrees of longi-
tude and latitude, and who believe she might
acquire liberty with as much facility as she
would acquire Switzerland or Naples.—[E. R.
1803.]


I2 $gomey 5mitb’s
SUDDEN FREEDOM.–A nation grown free in
a single day is a child born with the limbs and
the vigor of a man, who would take a drawn
sword for his rattle, and set the house in a
blaze, that he might chuckle over the splen-
dor.—[E. R. 1803.]
VALUE OF ELECTIONS.—The only foundation
of political liberty is the spirit of the people ;
and the only circumstance which makes a lively
impression upon their senses, and powerfully
reminds them of their importance, their power,
and their rights, is the periodical choice of their
representatives.—[E. R. 1803.]
PopULAR ELECTIONS.—The uproar even, and
the confusion and the clamor of a popular elec-
tion in England, have their use; they give a
stamp to the names, Liberty, Constitution, and
People.—[E. R. 1803.]
ENGLISH MoBs.—An English mob, which, to
a foreigner, might convey the belief of an im-
pending massacre, is often contented by the
demolition of a few windows.-[E. R. 1803.]
ExTENSION OF THE FRANCHISE.-No person
considers himself as so completely deprived of
a share in the government, which he is to enjoy


TUlit amo Uligoom I3
when he becomes older, as he would do, were
that privilege deferred till he became richer;-
time comes to all, wealth to a few.—[E. R.
1803.]
REPRESENTATIVE Gover NMENT.-The sea-
ports, the universities, the great commercial
towns, should all have their separate organs in
the parliament of a great country. There should
be some means of bringing in active, able,
young men, who would submit to the labor of
business from the stimulus of honor and wealth.
Others should be there, expressly to speak the
sentiments, and defend the interests, of the ex-
ecutive. Every popular assembly must be
grossly imperfect, that is not composed of such
heterogeneous materials as these. Our own
parliament may perhaps contain within itself
too many of that species of representatives, who
could never have arrived at the dignity under a
pure and perfect system of election ; but, for all
the practical purposes of government, amidst a
great majority fairly elected by the people, we
should always wish to see a certain number of
the legislative body representing interests very
distinct from those of the people.—[E. R. 1803.]
SEcoRD CHAMBERs.-The institution of two
assemblies constitutes a check upon the passion


14 $goney, 5mitb'g
and precipitation by which the resolutions of
any single popular assembly may occasionally
be governed.—[E. R. 1803.]
DIVISION OF Pow}ER.—The prize of supreme
power is too tempting to admit of fair play in the
game of ambition ; and it is wise to lessen its
value by dividing it; at least it is wise to do so,
under a form of government that cannot admit
the better expedient of rendering the executive
hereditary; an expedient (gross and absurd as it
seems to be) the best calculated, perhaps, to
obviate the effects of ambition upon the stability
of government, by narrowing the field on which
it acts, and the object for which it contends.-
[E. R. 1803.]
AMERICAN INSTITUTIONS IN 1803.−America
presents such an immediate, and such a sedu-
cing species of provision to all its inhabitants,
that it has no idle discontented populace; its
population amounts only to six millions, and it
is not condensed in such masses as the popula-
tion of Europe. After all, an experiment of
twenty years is never to be cited in politics;
nothing can be built upon such a slender infer-
ence. Even if America were to remain station-
ary, she might find that she had presented too
fascinating and irresistible an object to human


TUlit and UÇligöOm I5
ambition; of course, that peril is increased by
every augmentation of a people, who are has-
tening on, with rapid and irresistible pace, to
the highest eminences of human grandeur.
Some contest for power there must be in every
free state; but the contest for vicarial and de-
puted power, as it implies the presence of a
moderator and a master, is more prudent than
the struggle for that which is original and su-
preme.—[E. R. 1803.]
THE SALIc LAw.—A most sensible and valu-
able law, banishing gallantry and chivalry from
Cabinets, and preventing the amiable antics of
grave statesmen.—[E. R. 1803.]
LIFE PEERAGES.—The partial creation of
peers for life only, would appear to remedy a
very material defect in the English constitu-
tion. An hereditary legislative aristocracy not
only adds to the dignity of the throne, and es-
tablishes that gradation of ranks which is per-
haps absolutely necessary to its security, but it
transacts a considerable share of the business of
the nation as well in the framing of laws as in
the discharge of its juridical functions. But men
of rank and wealth, though they are interested
by a splendid debate, will not submit to the
drudgery of business, much less can they be


I6 5goney, 5mitb's
supposed conversant in all the niceties of law
questions. It is therefore necessary to add to
their number a certain portion of novi ho-
mines, men of established character for talents,
and upon whom the previous tenor of their
lives has necessarily impressed the habits of
business. The evil of this is that the title
descends to their posterity, without the tal-
lents and the utility that procured it; and
the dignity of the peerage is impaired by the
increase of its numbers; not only so, but as
the peerage is the reward of military, as well as
the earnest of civil services, and as the annuity
commonly granted with it is only for one or two
lives, we are in some danger of seeing a race of
nobles wholly dependent upon the Crown for
their support, and sacrificing their political
freedom to their necessities. These evils are
effectually, as it should seem, obviated by the
creation of a certain number of peers for life
only. The most useless and offensive tumor in
the body politic, is the titled son of a great man
whose merit has placed him in the peerage. The
name, face, and perhaps the pension, remain.
The daemon is gone; or there is a slight flavor
from the cask, but it is empty.—[E. R. 1807.]
DR. PARR.—Whoever has had the good for-
tune to see Dr. Parr's wig, must have observed,


TUlit amo (Oligoom 17
that while it trespasses a little on the orthodox
magnitude of perukes in the anterior parts, it
scorns even episcopal limits behind, and swells
out into boundless convexity of frizz, the ſuéya.
Satſua of barbers, and the terror of the literary
world. After the manner of his wig, the Doc-
tor has constructed his sermon, giving us a dis-
course of no common length, and subjoining
an immeasurable mass of notes, which appear
to concern every learned thing, every learned
man, and almost every unlearned man since the
beginning of the world.—[E. R. 1802.]
DR. PARR’s STYLE.--Dr. Parr seems to think
that eloquence consists not in an exuberance of
beautiful images—not in simple and sublime
conceptions—not in the feelings of the pas-
sions ; but in a studious arrangement of sono-
rous, exotic, and sesquipedal words; a very
ancient error, which corrupts the style of young
and wearies the patience of sensible men.
In the university of Benares, in the lettered
kingdom of Ava, among the Mandarins at Pe-
kin, there must, doubtless, be many men who
have the eloquence of Badóovs, the feeling of
TaiAgopos, and the judgment of Oxmpos, of
whom Dr. Parr might be happy to say, that
they have profundity without obscurity—per-
spicuity without prolixity—ornament without


18 $goney, 5mitb's
glare—terseness without barrenness—penetra-
tion without subtlety—comprehensiveness with-
out digression—and a great number of other
things without a great number of other things.
—[E. R. 1802.]
A SOMNOLENT WRITER.—An accident, which
happened to the gentleman engaged in review-
ing this sermon, proves, in the most striking
manner, the importance of the charity for
which it was preached in restoring to life per-
sons in whom the vital power is suspended.
He was discovered with Dr. Langford's dis-
course lying open before him, in a state of the
most profound sleep ; from which he could not,
by any means, be awakened for a great length
of time. By attending, however, to the rules
prescribed by the Humane Society, flinging in
the smoke of tobacco, applying hot flannels,
and carefully removing the discourse itself to a
great distance, the critic was restored to his dis-
consolate brothers.—[E. R. 1802.]
BOOKSELLERs' HAcks. – We suppose the
booksellers have authors at two different prices.
Those who do write grammatically, and those
who do not; and they have not thought fit to
put any of their best hands upon this work.--
[AE. R. 1802.]
-


TJUlit and (UligöOm I9
For ESTALLING AND REGRATING.-The farm-
er has it not in his power to raise the price of
corn; he never has fixed, and never can fix it.
He is unquestionably justified in receiving any
price he can obtain; for it happens very beau-
tifully, that the effect of his efforts to better his
fortune is as beneficial to the public as if his
motive had not been selfish. To insist that he
should take a less price when he can obtain a
greater, is to insist upon laying on that order of
men the whole burden of supporting the poor;
a convenient system enough in the eyes of a
a rich ecclesiastic ; and objectionable only, be-
cause it is impracticable, pernicious, and un-
just.*—[E. R. 1802.]
NATURAL PRODUCTIONS OF AUSTRALIA.—In
this remote part of the earth, Nature (having
made horses, oxen, ducks, geese, oaks, elms,
and all regular and useful productions for the
rest of the world), seems determined to have a
bit of play, and to amuse herself as she pleases.
Accordingly, she makes cherries with the stone
* If it is pleasant to notice the intellectual growth of
an individual, it is still more pleasant to see the public
growing wiser. This absurdity of attributing the high
price of corn to the combinations of farmers, was the
common nonsense talked in the days of ;.."; I
remember when ten judges out of twelve laid down this
doctrine in their charges to the various grand juries on
the circuits. The lowest attorney's clerk is now better
instructed.—(S.S.)


2O $gomey 5mitb'g
on the outside; and a monstrous animal, as tall
as a grenadier, with the head of a rabbit, a tail
as big as a bed-post, hopping along at the rate
of five hops to a mile, with three or four young
kangaroos looking out of its false uterus, to
see what is passing. Then comes a quadruped
as big as a large cat, with the eyes, color, and
skin of a mole, and the bill and web-feet of a
duck—puzzling Dr. Shaw, and rendering the
latter half of his life miserable, from his utter
inability to determine whether it was a bird or
a beast. Add to this a parrot, with the legs of
a sea-gull ; a skate with the head of a shark;
and a bird of such monstrous dimensions that
a side-bone of it will dine three real carniverous
Englishmen;–together with many other pro-
ductions that agitate Sir Joseph, and fill him
with mingled emotions of distress and delight.
—[E. R. 1819.]
AUSTRALIAN ARISTOCRACY. —The time may
come when some Botany Bay Tacitus shall re-
call the crimes of an emperor lineally descend-
ed from a London pickpocket, or paint the
valor with which he has led his New Holland-
ers into the heart of China. At that period,
when the Grand Lama is sending to supplicate
alliance; when the spice islands are purchasing
peace with nutmegs; when enormous tributes


TUlit ano (Uligoom 2I
of green tea and nankeen are wafted into Port
Jackson, and landed on the quays at Sydney,
who will ever remember that the sawing of a
few planks, and the knocking together of a few
nails, were once a serious trial of the energies
and resources of the nation ?
When the history of the colony has been at-
tentively perused in the parish of St. Giles, the
ancient avocation of picking pockets will cer-
tainly not become more discreditable from the
knowledge that it may eventually lead to the
possession of a farm of a thousand acres on the
river Hawkesbury.—[E. R. 1803.]
FUTURE INDEPENDENCE OF AUSTRALIA.—It
may be a curious consideration, to reflect what
we are to do with this colony when it comes to
years of discretion. Are we to spend another
hundred millions of money in discovering its
strength, and to humble ourselves again before
a fresh set of Washingtons and Franklins 2
The moment after we have suffered such serious
mischief from the escape of the old tiger, we
are breeding up a young cub, whom we cannot
render less ferocious, or more secure. Endless
blood and treasure will be exhausted to support
a tax on kangaroos' skins; faithful Commons
will go on voting fresh supplies to support a
just and necessary war; and Newgate, then be-


22 $goney, 5mitb'6
come a quarter of the world, will evince a hero-
ism, not unworthy of the great characters by
whom she was originally peopled.—[E. R. 1803.]
ATTRAcTIONs of AUSTRALIA. —A London
thief, clothed in kangaroos' skins, lodged un-
der the bark of the dwarf eucalyptus, and keep-
ing sheep, fourteen thousand miles from
Piccadilly, with a crook bent into the shape of
a picklock, is not an uninteresting picture;
and an engraving of it might have a very
salutary effect—provided no engraving were
made of his convict master, to whom the sheep
belong.—[E. R. 1823.]
EMANCIPATED CONVICTs.-The history of
emancipated convicts, who have made a great
deal of money by their industry and their specu-
lations, necessarily reaches this country, and
prevents men who are goaded by want, and
hovering between vice and virtue, from looking
upon it as a place of suffering—perhaps leads
them to consider it as the land of hope and
refuge, to them unattainable, except by the
commission of crime. And so they lift up
their heads at the Bar, hoping to be trans-
ported,—
“Stabant orantes primi transmittere cursum,
Tendebantgue manus, ripae ulterioris amore.”


TUlit and Uligoom 23
Another circumstance, which destroys all idea
of punishment in transportation to New South
Wales, is the enormous expense which that
settlement would occasion if it really were made
a place of punishment. A little wicked tailor
arrives, of no use to the architectural projects
of the Governor. He is turned over to a settler,
who leases this sartorial Borgia his liberty for
five shillings per week, and allows him to steal
and snip, what, when, and where he can. The
excuse for all this mockery of law and justice
is, that the expense of his maintenance is saved
to the Government at home. But the expense
is not saved to the country at large. The ne-
farious needleman writes home, that he is as
comfortable as a finger in a thimble ! that
though a fraction only of humanity, he has
several wives, and is filled every day with rum
and kangaroo. This, of course, is not lost upon
the shopboard, and, for the saving of fifteen
pence per day, the foundation of many criminal
tailors is laid.—[E. R. 1803.]
MORAL EQUALITY OF MAN.—All honest men,
whether counts or cobblers, are of the same
rank, if classed by moral distinctions.—[E. R.
1823.]
SocIETY AT Bor ANY BAv.—It is seldom, we


24 $goney, 5mitb's
suspect, that absolute dunces go to the Bay, but
commonly men of active minds, and consider-
able talents in their various lines—who have
not learnt, indeed, the art of self-discipline and
control, but who are sent to learn it in the
bitter school of adversity. And when this
medicine produces its proper effect—when
sufficient time has been given to show a
thorough change in character and disposition
—a young colony really cannot afford to dis-
pense with the services of any person of superior
talents. Activity, resolution, and acuteness are
of such immense importance in the hard cir-
cumstances of a new State, that they must be
eagerly caught at, and employed as soon as
they are discovered. Though all may not be
quite so objectionable as could be wished—
“Res dura, et regni novitas metalia cogunt
Moliri”—
To sit down to dinner with men who have not
been tried for their lives, is a luxury which
cannot be enjoyed in such a country. It is en-
tirely out of the question ; and persons so
dainty, and so truly admirable, had better settle
at Clapham Common than at Botany Bay.
Mr. Marsden, who has no happiness from six
o'clock Monday morning, till the same hour the
week following, will not meet pardoned convicts


TJUlit and Uligoom 25
in society. We have no doubt Mr. Marsden is a
very respectable clergyman ; but is there not
something very different from this in the Gos-
pel? The most resolute and inflexible persons
in the rejection of pardoned convicts were some
of the marching regiments stationed at Botany
Bay, -men, of course, who had uniformly
shunned in the Old World the society of game-
sters, prostitutes, drunkards, and blasphemers
—who had ruined no tailors, corrupted no wives,
and had entitled themselves by a long course
of solemnity and decorum, to indulge in all the
insolence of purity and virtue.—[E. R. 1823.]
DINNERS AT SYDNEY.—An officer, invited to
dinner by the Governor, cannot refuse, unless
in case of sickness. This is the most complete
tyranny we ever heard of. If the officer comes
out to his duty at the proper minute, with his
proper number of buttons and epaulettes, what
matters it to the Governor or anybody else
where he dines 2 He may as well be ordered
what to eat, as where to dine—be confined to
the upper or under side of the meat—be denied
gravy, or refused melted butter. But there is
no end to the small tyranny and puerile vexa-
tions of a military life.—[E. R. 1803.]
TRANSPORTATION.—Men are governed by


26 5goney, 5mitb'g
words; and under the infamous term convict
are comprehended crimes of the most different
degrees and species of guilt. One man is trans-
ported for stealing three hams and a pot of
sausages; and in the next berth to him on
board the transport is a young surgeon, who
has been engaged in the mutiny at the Nore ;
the third man is for extorting money; the
fourth was in a respectable situation in life at
the time of the Irish Rebellion, and was so ill-
read in history as to imagine that Ireland had
been ill-treated by England, and so bad a rea-
soner as to suppose that nine Catholics ought
not to pay tithes to one Protestant. Then
comes a man who set his house on fire to cheat
the Phoenix Office; and, lastly, that most glar-
ing of all human villains, a poacher, driven
from Europe, wife and child, by thirty lords of
manors, at the Quarter Sessions, for killing a
partridge. Now, all these are crimes no doubt
—particularly the last; but they are surely
crimes of very different degrees of intensity, to
which different degrees of contempt and horror
are attached—and from which those who have
committed them may, by subsequent morality,
emancipate themselves, with different degrees
of difficulty, and with more or less of success.
A warrant granted by a reformed bacon-stealer
would be absurd ; but there is hardly any rea-


TUlit amo (Oligoom 27
son why a foolish hot-brained young blockhead,
who chose to favor the mutineers at the Nore
when he was sixteen years of age, may not
make a very loyal subject, and a very respected
magistrate when he is forty years of age, and
has cast his Jacobine teeth, and fallen into the
practical jobbing and loyal business which so
commonly develops itself about that period of
life.
Is it to be believed that a governor, placed
over a land of convicts, and capable of guard-
ing his limbs from any sudden collision with
odemetrous stones, or vertical posts of direc-
tion, should make no distinction between the
simple convict and the double and treble con-
vict—the man of three juries, who has three
times appeared at the Bailey, trilarcenous—
three times driven over the seas?—[E. R. 1823.]
TRANSPORT SHIPS.—We were a little sur-
prised at the scanty limits allowed to convicts
for sleeping on board the transports. Mr. Bigge
(of whose sense and humanity we really have
not the slightest doubt) states eighteen inches
to be quite sufficient—twice the length of a
small sheet of letter paper. The printer's
devil, who carries our works to the press, in-
forms us that the allowance to the demons of
the type is double foolscap length, or twenty-


28 $goney, $mitb's
four inches. The great city upholsterers gener-
ally consider six feet as barely sufficient for a
person rising in business, and assisting occa-
sionally at official banquets.-[E. R. 1823.]
A VOYAGE TO BOTANY BAY. —While a con-
vict vessel lay at anchor, about to sail, a boat
from shore reached the ship, and from it
stepped a clerk from the Bank of England.
The convicts felicitated themselves upon the
acquisition of so gentlemanlike a companion ;
but it soon turned out that the visitant had no
intention of making so long a voyage. Finding
that they were not to have the pleasure of his
company, the convicts very naturally thought
of picking his pockets, the necessity of which
professional measure was prevented by a speedy
distribution of their contents. Forth from his
bill-case this votary of Plutus drew his nitid
Newlands; all the forgers and utterers were
mustered on deck, and to each of them was
well and truly paid into his hand a five pound
note: less acceptable, perhaps, than if privately
removed from the person, but still joyfully re-
ceived. This was well intended on the part of
the directors, but the consequences it is scarcely
necessary to enumerate; a large stock of rum
was immediately laid in from the circumam-
bient slop boats, and the materials of constant


TUlit amo (Oligoom 29
intoxication secured for the rest of the voyage.
—[AE. R. 1823.]
ARCHITECTURE AT BOTANY BAY.-Ornamen-
tal architecture in Botany Bay ! How it could
enter into the head of any human being to
adorn public buildings at the Bay, or to aim at
any other architectural purpose but the exclu-
sion of wind and rain, we are utterly at a loss
to conceive. Such an expense is not only
lamentable for the waste of property it makes
in the particular instance, but because it de-
stroys that guaranty of sound sense which the
Government at home must require in those who
preside over distant colonies. A man who
thinks of pillars and pilasters, when half the
colony are wet through for want of any cover-
ing at all, cannot be a wise or prudent person.
He seems to be ignorant, that the prevention
of rheumatism in all young colonies is a
much more important object than the gratifi-
cation of taste, or the display of skill.—[E. R.
1823.]
CoLoRIAL BREWERIES.—What two ideas are
more inseparable than Beer and Britannia?—
what event more awfully important to an En-
glish colony, than the erection of its first brew-
house?—[E. R. 1823.]


30 $goney, 5mitb'g
SELF-GOVERNMENT IN AUSTRALIA.— The
time of course will come when it would be
in the highest degree unjust and absurd to re-
fuse to that settlement the benefit of popular
institutions. But they are too young, too few,
and too deficient for such civilized machinery
at present. “I cannot come to serve upon the
jury—the waters of the Hawkesbury are out,
and I have a mile to swim—the kangaroos will
break into my corn—the convicts have robbed
me—my little boy has been bitten by an orni-
thorynchus paradoxus—I have sent a man fifty
miles with a sack of flour to buy a pair of
breeches for the assizes, and he is not re-
turned.” These are the excuses which, in new
colonies, always prevent Trial by Jury; and
make it desirable, for the first half ceutury of
their existence, that they should live under the
simplicity and convenience of despotism—such
modified despotism (we mean) as a British
House of Commons will permit, in the gov-
ernors of their distant colonies. – [E. R.
1823. I
CEYLON IN 1803.−The geographical figure
of our possessions in Ceylon is whimsical
enough ; we possess the whole of the sea-coast,
and enclose in a periphery the unfortunate King
of Candia, whose rugged and mountainous do-


TCUlit amo (Uligoom 31
minions may be compared to a coarse mass of
iron, set in a circle of silver. The Popilian
ring, in which this votary of Buddha has been
so long held by the Portuguese and Dutch,
has infused the most vigilant jealousy into the
government, and rendered it as difficult to enter
the kingdom of Candia, as if it were Paradise
or China; and yet, once there, always; for the
difficulty of departing is just as great as the dif-
ficulty of arriving; and his Candian Excel-
lency, who has used every device in his power
to keep them out, is seized with such an affec-
tion for those who baffle his defensive artifices,
that he can on no account suffer them to de-
part. He has been known to retain a string of
four or five Dutch embassies, till various mem-
bers of the legation died of old age at his court,
while they were expecting an answer to their
questions, and a return to their presents; and
His Majesty once exasperated a little French
ambassador to such a degree, by the various
pretences under which he kept him at his court,
that this lively member of the Corps Diploma-
tique, one day, in a furious passion, attacked
six or seven of his Majesty's largest elephants
sword in hand, and would, in all probability,
have reduced them to mince-meat, if the poor
beasts had not been saved from the unequal
combat.—[E. R. 1823.]


32 $goney, 5mitb's
MALAYs.—This is truly a tremendous peo-
ple ! When assassins and blood-hounds will
fall into rank and file, and the most furious
savages submit (with no diminution of their fe-
rocity) to the science and discipline of war, they
only want a Malay Bonaparte to lead them to
the conquest of the world. Our curiosity has
always been very highly excited by the ac-
counts of this singular people; and we cannot
help thinking, that, one day or another, when
they are more full of opium than usual, they
zvill run a muck from Cape Comorin to the Cas-
pian.—[E. R. 1803.]
THE KING OF KANDY.—The King of Candia
is of course despotic; and the history of his life
and reign presents the same monotonous osten-
tation, and baby-like caprice, which character-
ize Oriental governments. In public audiences
he appears like a great fool, squatting on his
hands; far surpassing gingerbread in splendor;
and, after asking some such idiotical question,
as whether Europe is in Asia or Africa, retired
with a flourish of trumpets very much out of
tune. For his private amusement, he rides on
the nose of an elephant, plays with his jewels,
sprinkles his courtiers with rose-water, and feeds
his gold and silver fish. If his tea is not sweet
enough, he impales the footman ; and smites


TÜlit amo Ulligbom 33
off the heads of half a dozen of his noblemen,
if he has a pain in his own.—[E. R. 1803.]
PEARL FISHERY.—A common mode of theft
practised by the common people engaged in the
pearl fishery, is by swallowing the pearls.
Whenever any one is suspected of having swal-
lowed these precious pills of Cleopatra, the po-
lice apothecaries are instantly sent for; a brisk
cathartic is immediately dispatched after the
truant pearl, with the strictest orders to appre-
hend it, in whatever corner of the viscera it may
be found lurking.—[E. R. 1803.]
RELATIONS OF MANKIND.—By what curious
links, and fantastical relations, are mankind
connected together l At the distance of half the
globe, a Hindoo gains his support by groping
at the bottom of the sea for the morbid concre-
tion of a shell-fish, to decorate the throat of a
London alderman’s wife.—[E. R. 1803.]
THE HONEY-BIRD OF CEYLON.—Among the
great variety of birds in Ceylon, we were struck
with Mr. Percival’s account of the honey-bird,
into whose body the soul of a common informer
appears to have migrated. It makes a loud and
shrill noise, to attract the notice of anybody
whom it may perceive; and thus inducing him


34 $goney, 5mitb's
to follow the course it points out leads him to
the tree where the bees have concealed their
treasure; after the apiary has been robbed, this
feathered scoundrel gleans his reward from the
hive. The list of Ceylonese snakes is hideous;
and we become reconciled to the crude and
cloudy land in which we live, from reflecting
that the indiscriminate activity of the sun gene-
rates what is loathsome, as well as what is
lovely; that the asp reposes under the rose;
and the scorpion crawls under the fragrant
flower and the luscious fruit.—[E. R. 1803.]
AN EASY INDIAN CHAPLAINCY.—The best
History of a serpent we ever remember to have
read, was of one killed near one of our settle-
ments in the East Indies, in whose body they
found the chaplain of the garrison, all in black,
the Rev. Mr. — (somebody or other, whose
name we have forgotten), and who, after having
been missing for above a week, was discovered in
this very inconvenient situation.—[AE. R. 1803.]
THE TALIPOT TREE.—A leaf of the talipot
tree is a tent to the soldier, a parasol to the
traveller, and a book to the scholar. It is a
natural umbrella, and is of as eminent service
in that country as a great-coat tree would be in
this.-[E. R. 1803.]
--~
--~~


TJUlit amo (Uligoom 35
COUNTRY GENTLEMEN AS NATURALISTS.—
There is something, too, to be highly respected
and praised in the conduct of a country gentle-
man who, instead of exhausting life in the
chase, has dedicated a considerable portion of
it to the pursuit of knowledge. There are so
many temptations to complete idleness in the
life of a country gentleman, so many examples
of it, and so much loss to the community from
it, that every exception from the practice is
deserving of great praise. Some country gentle-
men must remain to do the business of their
counties; but, in general, there are many more
than are wanted; and, generally speaking also,
they are a class who should be stimulated to
greater exertions. Sir Joseph Banks, a squire
of large fortune in Lincolnshire, might have
given up his existence to double-barrelled guns
and persecutions of poachers—and all the bene-
fits derived from his wealth, industry, and per-
sonal exertion in the cause of science, would
have been lost to the community.—[E. R.
1826.]
MR. WATERTON'S WANDERINGS.—Mr. Wa-
terton complains that the trees of Guiana are
not more than six yards in circumference—a
magnitude in trees which it is not easy for a
Scotch imagination to reach.—[/E. R. 78.26.7


36 $goney, 5mitb’g
THE FORESTS OF GUIANA.—How far does the
gentle reader imagine the campanero may be
heard, whose size is that of a jay? Perhaps
three hundred yards. Poor innocent, ignorant
reader! unconscious of what Nature has done
in the forests of Cayenne, and measuring the
force of tropical intonation by the sounds of a
Scotch duck | The campanero may be heard
three miles —this single little bird being more
powerful than the belfry of a cathedral, ring-
ing for a new dean—just appointed on account
of shabby politics, small understanding, and
good family
It is impossible to contradict a gentleman
who has been in the forests of Cayenne; but we
are determined, as soon as a campanero is
brought to England, to make him toll in a
public place, and have the distance measured.
—[E. R. 1826.]
CUI BONO.-The toucan has an enormous
bill, makes a noise like a puppy dog, and lays
his eggs in hollow trees. How astonishing are
the freaks and fancies of nature | To what
purpose, we say, is a bird placed in the woods
of Cayenne with a bill a yard long, making a
noise like a puppy dog, and laying eggs in
hollow trees? The toucans, to be sure, might
retort, to what purpose were gentlemen in Bond


TÜlit amo (Uligoom 37
Street created 2 To what purpose were certain
foolish prating Members of Parliament created?
—pestering the House of Commons with their
ignorance and folly, and impeding the business
of the country P. There is no end of such ques-
tions. So we will not enter into the metaphysics
of the toucan.—[E. R. 1826.]
IN SUSPENSE.-The sloth, in its wild state,
spends its life in trees, and never leaves them
but from force or accident. The eagle to the
sky, the mole to the ground, the sloth to the
tree, but what is most extraordinary, he lives
not upon the branches, but under them. He
moves suspended, rests suspended, sleeps sus-
pended, and passes his life in suspense—like a
young clergyman distantly related to a bishop.
[E. R. 1826.]
INSECTS IN THE TROPICS.—Insects are the
curse of tropical climates. The Bète rouge lays
the foundation of a tremendous ulcer. In a
moment you are covered with ticks. Chigoes
bury themselves in your flesh, and hatch a large
colony of young chigoes in a few hours. They
will not live together, but every chigoe sets up
a separate ulcer, and has his own private portion
of pus. Flies get entry into your mouth, into
your eyes, into your nose; you eat flies, drink


38 5 goney, 5mitb’s
flies, and breathe flies. Lizards, cockroaches,
and snakes, get into the bed; ants eat up the
books; scorpions sting you on the foot. Every
thing bites, stings, or bruises; every second of
your existence you are wounded by some piece
of animal life that nobody has ever seen before,
except Swammerdam and Meriam. An insect
with eleven legs is swimming in your teacup, a
nondescript with nine wings is struggling in the
small beer, or a caterpillar with several dozen
eyes in his belly is hastening over the bread
and butter | A11 nature is alive, and seems to
be gathering all her entomological hosts to eat
you up, as you are standing, out of your coat,
waistcoat, and breeches. Such are the tropics.
All this reconciles us to our dews, fogs, vapors,
and drizzle—to our apothecaries rushing about
with gargles and tinctures—to our old, British,
constitutional coughs, sore throats, and swelled
faces.—[E. R. 1826.]
THE DANES.—The Danish character is not
agreeable. It is marked by silence, phlegm,
and reserve. A Dane is the excess and ex-
travagance of a Dutchman ; more breeched,
more ponderous, and more saturnine. He is
not often a bad member of society in the great
points of morals, and seldom a good one in the
lighter requisites of manners. His understand-


TUlit and Uligoom 39
ing is alive only to the useful and the profitable:
he never lives for what is merely gracious,
courteous, and ornamental. His faculties seem
to be drenched and slackened by the eternal
fogs in which he resides; he is never alert,
elastic, or serene. His state of animal spirits is
so low, that what in other countries would be
deemed dejection, proceeding from casual mis-
fortune, is the habitual tenor and complexion
of his mind. In all the operations of his under-
standing he must have time. He is capable of
undertaking great journeys; but he travels only
a foot pace, and never leaps nor runs. He loves
arithmetic better than lyric poetry, and affects
Cocker rather than Pindar. He is slow to
speak of fountains and amorous maidens: but
can take a spell at porisms as well as another;
and will make profound and extensive combina-
tions of thought, if you pay him for it, and do
not insist that he shall either be brisk or brief.
—[E. R. 1803.]
LAPLANDERS. — In reading Mr. Catteau's
account of the congealed and blighted Lap-
landers, we were struck with the infinite
delight they must have in dying ; the only
circumstance in which they can enjoy any
superiority over the rest of mankind; or which
tends, in their instance, to verify the theory


4O 5 pomey 5mitb’s
of the equality of human condition.—[E. R.
1803.]
MEDICAL COURAGE.-The boldness and en-
terprise of medical men is quite as striking as
the courage displayed in battle, and evinces
how much the power of encountering danger
depends upon habit. Many a military veteran
would tremble to feed upon pus ; to sleep in
sheets running with water; or to draw up the
breath of feverish patients. Dr. White might
not, perhaps, have marched up to a battery with
great alacrity; but Dr. White, in the year 1801,
inoculated himself in the arms with recent
matter taken from the bubo of a pestiferous
patient, and rubbed the same matter upon
different parts of his body. With somewhat
less of courage, and more of injustice, he wrapt
his Arab servant in the bed of a person just dead
of the plague. The Doctor died; and the Doc-
tor's man (perhaps to prove his master's
theory, that the plague was not contagious) ran
away.—The bravery of our naval officers never
produced any thing superior to this therapeutic
heroism of the Doctor's.-[AE. A. 1803.]
TURKISH DISCIPLINE.-There is at present,
in the Turkish army, a curious mixture of the
severest despotism in the commander, and the
__


TUlit amo (Uligoom 4I
most rebellious insolence in the soldier. When
the soldier misbehaves, the Vizier cuts his head
off, and places it under his arm. When the
soldier is dissatisfied with the Vizier, he fires
his ball through his tent, and admonishes him,
by these messengers, to a more pleasant exercise
of his authority.—[E. R. 1803.]
ENERGY AND EXCESS.—The governed soon
learn to distinguish between systematic energy
and the excesses of casual and capricious cruel-
ty; the one awes them into submission, the
other rouses them to revenge.—[E. R. 1803.]
TURKISH REFORMS.—What is become of all
the reforms of the famous Gazi Hassan 2 The
blaze of partial talents is soon extinguished.
Never was there so great a prospect of improve-
ment as that afforded by the exertions of this
celebrated man, who, in spite of the ridicule
thrown upon him by Baron de Tott, was such a
man as the Turks cannot expect to see again
once in a century. He had the whole power of
the Turkish empire at his disposal for fifteen
years; and after repeated efforts to improve the
army, abandoned the scheme as totally im-
practicable. The celebrated Bonneval, in his
time, and De Tott since, made the same attempt
with the same success. They are not to be


42 5goney, 5mitb's
taught ; and six months after his death, every
thing the present Capitan Pacha has done will
be immediately pulled to pieces.—[E. R.
1803.]
NATIONAL CHARACTERISTICS. — There are
goitres out of the Valais, extortioners who do
not worship Moses, oat cakes south of the
Tweed, and balm beyond the precincts of
Gilead. If nothing can be said to exist pre-
eminently and emphatically in one country,
which exists at all in another, then Frenchmen
are not gay, nor Spaniards grave, nor are gen-
tlemen of the Milesian race remarkable for
their disinterested contempt of wealth in their
connubial relations.—[/E. A. 1803.]
TENACITY OF IGNORANCE.-It must be a
general fact, at all times, that gross ignorance
more tenaciously adheres to a custom once
adopted, because it respects that custom as an
ultimate rule, and does not discern cases of ex-
ception by appealing to any higher rule upon
which the first is founded.—[AE. R. 1803.]
PROvIDENTIAL, INTERFERENCE. — There is
something so natural, and so closely derived
from human governments, in the notion of the
immediate interference of Providence, that


TUlit amo (Uligoom 43
mankind are only weaned from it by centuries
of contradiction and discussion.—[E. R. 1803.]
AFRICAN SUPERSTITIONS. — The desire of
penetrating into futurity, and the belief that
some persons are capable of doing it, is as diffi-
cult to eradicate from the human mind, as is the
belief in an immediate Providence; and conse-
quently, the Africans not only have their ordeal,
but their conjurers and magicians, who are
appealed to in all the difficulties and uncertain-
ties of life, and who always, of course, preserve
their authority, though they are perpetually
showing, by the clearest evidence of facts, upon
what sort of foundation.—[E. R. 1803.]
AFRICAN LITIGATION. — The Africans are
very litigious; and display, in their lawsuits or
palavers, a most forensic exuberance of images,
and loquacity of speech. Their criminal causes
are frequently terminated by selling one of the
parties into slavery; and the Christians are
always ready to purchase either the plaintiff or
defendant, or both; together with all the wit-
nesses, and any other human creature who is
of a dusky color, and worships the great idol
Boo-Boo-Boo, with eleven heads.-[E. R. 1803.]
AFRICAN MERRIMENT.—The Pagan African


44 $göney, 5mitb's
is commonly a merry, dancing animal, given to
every species of antic and apish amusement;
and as he is unacquainted with the future and
promised delights of the Arabian prophet, he
enjoys the bad music and imperfect beauty of
this world with a most eager and undisturbed
relish.-[E. R. 1807.]
BLACKS AND WHITES.—The Ashantees be-
lieve that a higher sort of God takes care of the
whites, and that they are left to the care of an
inferior species of deities. Still the black kings
and black nobility are to go to the upper gods
after death, where they are to enjoy eternally
the state and luxury which was their portion
on earth. For this reason a certain number of
cooks, butlers, and domestics of every descrip-
tion are sacrificed on their tombs.-[E. R.
1803.]
FoRBIDDEN MEATs.-The Ashantees please
their gods by avoiding particular sorts of meat;
but the prohibited viand is not always the
same. Some curry favor by eating no veal;
some seek protection by avoiding pork; others
say that the real monopoly which the celestials
wish to establish is that of beef-and so they
piously and prudently rush into a course of
Inutton.—[E. A. 1803.]


"Ulit amo Uligoom 45
Uses oF ConquEST.-Nothing in the world
is created in vain : lions, tigers, conquerors
have their use. Ambitious monarchs, who are
the curse of civilized nations, are the civilizers
of savage people. With a number of little inde-
pendent hordes civilization is impossible. They
must have a common interest before there can
be peace, and be directed by one will before
there can be order. When mankind are pre-
vented from daily quarrelling and fighting they
first begin to improve; and all this, we are
afraid, is only to be accomplished, in the first
instance, by some great conqueror. We sympa-
thize, therefore, with the victories of the King of
Ashantee—and feel ourselves, for the first time,
in love with military glory. The ex-Emperor
of the French would, at Coomassie, Dagwumba,
or Inta, be an eminent benefactor to the human
race.—[E. R. 1823.]
THE AMERICAN CHARACTER NOT HEROIC.—
The Americans are a brave, industrious, and
acute people; but they have hitherto given no
indications of genius, and made no approaches
to the heroic, either in their morality or
character.
Their Franklins and Washingtons, and all
other sages and heroes of their revolution, were
born and bred subjects of the King of England


46 $goney, 5mitb’s
—and not among the freest or most valued of his
subjects. And, since the period of their sepa-
ration, a far greater proportion of their states-
men and artists and political writers have been
foreigners than ever occurred before in the
history of any civilized and educated people.
During the thirty or forty years of their inde-
pendence they have done absolutely nothing for
the Sciences, for the Arts, for Literature, or
even for the statesman-like studies of Politics or
Political Economy.—[E. R. 1820.]
WHAT HAs AMERICA DONE 2–In the four
quarters of the globe, who reads an American
book? or goes to an American play ? or looks
at an American picture or statue 2 What does
the world yet owe to American physicians or
surgeons? What new substances have their
chemists discovered 2 or what old ones have
they analyzed 2 What new constellations have
been discovered by the telescopes of Americans?
What have they done in the mathematics 2
Who drinks out of American glasses? or eats
from American plates ? or wears American
coats or gowns 2 or sleeps in American blan-
kets P Finally, under which of the old tyran-
nical governments of Europe is every sixth
man a slave, whom his fellow-creatures may
buy and sell and torture?—[E. A. 1820.]


TUlit amo Uligoom 47
SLAVERY IN THE UNITED STATES.—The
great curse of America is the institution of Slav-
ery—of itself far more than the foulest blot upon
their national character, and an evil which
counterbalances all the excisemen, licensers,
and tax-gatherers of England. No virtuous
man ought to trust his own character, or the
character of his children, to the demoralizing
effects produced by commanding slaves. Justice,
gentleness, pity, and humility soon give way be-
fore them. Conscience suspends its functions.
The love of command—the impatience of re-
straint, get the better of every other feeling, and
cruelty has no other limit than fear.—[E. R. 18/8]
THE BLOT OF AMERICA.—Every American
who loves his country should dedicate his whole
life, and every faculty of his soul, to efface this
foul stain from its character. If nations rank
according to their wisdom and their virtue, what
right has the American, a scourger and mur-
derer of slaves, to compare himself with the
least and lowest of the European nations, much
more with this great and humane country,
where the greatest lord dare not lay a finger
upon the meanest peasant? What is freedom,
where all are not free? where the greatest of
God’s blessings is limited, with impious ca-
price, to the color of the body ?—[E. R. 1818.]


48 $pomey 5mitb's
INCONSISTENCY OF SLAVERY AND FREE IN-
STITUTIONs.—Let the world judge which is the
most liable to censure, we who, in the midst of
our rottenness, have torn off the manacles of
slaves all over the world, or they who, with
their idle purity and useless perfection, have re-
mained mute and careless while groans echoed
and whips clanked around the very walls of
their spotless Congress. We wish well to
America; we rejoice in her prosperity, and are
delighted to resist the absurd impertinence with
which the character of her people is often
treated in this country: but the existence of
slavery in America is an atrocious crime with
which no measure can be kept—for which her
situation affords no sort of apology—which
makes liberty itself distrusted and the boast of
it disgusting.—[AE. A. 1818.]
RUPTURE OF THE UNION.——The Americans
are a very sensible, reflecting people, and have
conducted their affairs extremely well; but it is
scarcely possible to conceive that such an em-
pire should very long remain undivided, or that
the dwellers on the Columbia should have com-
mon interest with the navigators of the Hudson
and the Delaware.—[Z. A’. 1878.]
OLD COUNTRIES LEAST EXPENSIVE.—Eng-


TUlit amo (Uligoom 49
land is, to be sure, a very expensive country;
but a million of millions has been expended in
making it habitable and comfortable; and this
is a constant source of revenue, or what is the
same thing, a constant diminution of expense to
every man living in it. No country, in fact, is
so expensive as one which human beings are
just beginning to inhabit;-where there are no
roads, no bridges, no skill, no help, no combi-
nation of powers, and no force of capital.—[E.
R. 1818.]
NAVAL POWER OF ENGLAND AND THE
UNITED STATES.–It would be the height of
madness in America to run into another naval
war with this country if it could be averted by
any other means than a sacrifice of proper dig-
nity and character. They have, comparatively,
no land revenue; and, in spite of the Franklin
and Guerrière, though lined with cedar and
mounted with brass cannon, they must soon be
reduced to the same state which has been de-
scribed by Dr. Seybert, and from which they
were so opportunely extricated by the treaty of
Ghent.—[E. R. 1820.]
BRITISH TAxATION.—We can inform Jona-
than what are the inevitable consequences of
being too fond of glory: TAXES upon every


50 $vomey 5mitb’s
article which enters into the mouth, or covers
the back, or is placed under the foot—taxes
upon every thing which is pleasant to see, hear,
feel, smell, or taste—taxes upon warmth, light,
and locomotion—taxes on everything on earth,
and the waters under the earth—on every thing
that comes from abroad, or is grown at home—
taxes on the raw material—taxes on every fresh
value that is added to it by the industry of man
—taxes on the sauce which pampers man's appe-
tite, and the drug that restores him to health—
on the ermine which decorates the judge, and
rope which hangs the criminal—on the poor
man's salt, and the rich man's spice—on the
brass nails of the coffin, and the ribands of the
bride—at bed or board, couchant or levant, we
must pay. The schoolboy whips his taxed top,
—the beardless youth manages his taxed horse,
with a taxed bridle, on a taxed road, and the
dying Englishman, pouring his medicine, which
has paid 7 per cent., into a spoon that has paid
15 per cent., flings himself back upon his
chintz bed, which has paid 22 per cent., and
expires in the arms of an apothecary who has
paid a license of a hundred pounds for the
privilege of putting him to death. His whole
property is then immediately taxed from 2 to
Io per cent. Besides the probate, large fees are
demanded for burying him in the chancel; his


TCUlit ano Úligocm
5
I
virtues are handed down to posterity on taxed
marble; and he is then gathered to his fathers—
to be taxed no more.—[E. R. 1820.]
AMERICAN PRIVILEGES. — America is ex-
empted, by its very newness as a nation, from
many of the evils of the old governments
of Europe. It has no mischievous remains of
feudal institutions, and no violations of politi-
cal economy sanctioned by time, and older than
the age of reason. If a man find a partridge
upon his ground eating his corn, in any part of
Kentucky or Indiana, he may kill it even if his
father be not a Doctor of Divinity.—[E. A. 1824.]
LIBERTY OF TRADES.–Though America is a
confederation of republics, they are in many
cases much more amalgamated than the various
parts of Great Britain. If a citizen of the Unit-
ed States can make a shoe, he is at liberty to
make a shoe anywhere between Lake Ontario
and New Orleans,—he may sole on the Missis-
sippi, heel on the Missouri, measure Mr. Birk-
beck on the little Wabash, or take (which our
best politicians do not find an easy matter) the
length of Mr. Monroe's foot on the banks of the
Potomac. But woe to the cobbler who, having
made Hessian boots for the alderman of New-
castle, should venture to invest with these coria-


52 5poney, 5mitb’3
ceous integuments the leg of a liege subject at
York. A yellow ant in a nest of red ants—a
butcher's dog in a fox-kennel—a mouse in a
bee-hive, all feel the effects of untimely intru-
sion ;-but far preferable their fate to that of the
misguided artisan who, misled by sixpenny his-
tories of England, and conceiving his country to
have been united at the Heptarchy, goes forth
from his native town to stitch freely within the
sea-girth limits of Albion. Him the mayor, him
the alderman, him the recorder, him the quarter
sessions would worry. Him the justices before
trial would long to get into the treadmill; but
the moment he was tried, they would push him
with redoubled energy, and leave him to tread
himself into a conviction of the barbarous insti-
tutions of his corporation-divided country.—[E.
A’. 1824.]
WIGS AND GowNS.—The Americans, we be-
lieve, are the first persons who have discarded
the tailor in the administration of justice, and
his auxiliary the barber—two persons of endless
importance in the codes and pandects of Eu-
rope. A judge administers justice, without a
calorific wig and parti-colored gown, in a coat
and pantaloons. He is obeyed, however ; and
life and property are not badly protected in the
United States.—[AE. R. 1824.]


TÜlit amo (Uligoom 53
EQUALITY OF DREss.—The true progress of
refinement, we conceive, is to discard all the
mountebank drapery of barbarous ages. One
row of gold and fur falls off after another from
the robe of power, and is picked up and worn
by the parish beadle and the exhibitor of wild
beasts. Meantime, the afflicted wiseacre mourns
over equality of garments; and wotteth not of
two men, whose doublets have cost alike, how
one shall command and the other obey.—[E.
A’. 1824.]
AMERICAN LITERATURE IN 1818.-Literature
the Americans have none—no native literature,
we mean. It is all imported. They had a
Franklin, indeed; and may afford to live for
half a century on his fame. There is, or was, a
Mr. Dwight, who wrote some poems, and his
baptismal name was Timothy. There is also a
small account of Virginia by Jefferson, and an
epic by Joel Barlow ; and some pieces of pleas.
antry by Mr. Irving. But why should the
Americans write books, when a six weeks'
passage brings them, in their own tongue,
our sense, science, and genius, in bales and
hogsheads 2 Prairies, steamboats, grist-mills,
are their natural objects for centuries to come.
Then, when they have got to the Pacific Ocean—
epic poems, plays, pleasures of memory, and all


54 $yoney, 5mitb’s
the elegant gratifications of ancient people who
have tamed the wild earth and sat down to
amuse themselves. This is the natural march
of human affairs.-[E. R. 1818.]
AMERICAN SENSITIVENESS. — It is rather
surprising that such a people, spreading rapidly
over so vast a portion of the earth, and culti-
vating all the liberal and useful arts so success-
fully, should be so extremely sensitive and
touchy as the Americans are said to be.
It is very natural that we Scotch, who live in
a little shabby scraggy corner of a remote island,
with a climate which cannot ripen an apple,
should be jealous of the aggressive pleasantry
of more favored people; but that Americans,
who have done so much for themselves, and
received so much from nature, should be flung
into such convulsions by English Reviewers
and Magazines, is really a sad specimen of
Columbian juvenility.—[E. R. 1824.]
DR. BULL's SULKINESS.–There is nothing
which an Englishman enjoys more than the
pleasure of sulkiness, of not being forced to
hear a word from anybody which may occasion
to him the necessity of replying. It is not so
much that Mr. Bull disdains to talk, as that Mr.
Bull has nothing to say. His forefathers have


TJUlit allo (Uligoom 55
been out of spirits for six or seven hundred
years, and seeing nothing but fog and vapor, he
is out of spirits too ; and when there is no
selling or buying, or no business to settle, he
prefers being alone and looking at the fire.
If any gentleman were in distress, he would
willingly lend a helping hand; but he thinks it
no part of neighborhood to talk to a person
because he happens to be near him. In short,
with many excellent qualities, it must be ac-
knowledged that the English are the most
disagreeable of all the nations of Europe,
more surly and morose, with less disposition to
please, to exert themselves for the good of
society, to make small sacrifices, and to put
themselves out of their way. They are con-
tent with Magna Charta and Trial by Jury,
and think they are not bound to excel the rest
of the world in small behavior, if they are su-
perior to them in great institutions.—[E. R.
1818.]
ExPEctoRATION.—We are terribly afraid that
some Americans spit upon the floor, even when
that floor is covered by good carpets. Now all
claims to civilization are suspended till this
secretion is otherwise disposed of. No English
gentleman has spit upon the floor since the
Heptarchy.—[E. R. 1824.]


|
56 $poney, 5mitb’s
|
CAPTAIN ROCK IN AMERICA.—Captain Rock
has his descendants in America. Mankind
cannot live together without some approxima-
tion to justice; and if the actual government
will not govern well, or cannot govern well, is
too wicked or too weak to do so—then men
prefer Rock to anarchy.—[E. R. 1824.]
AMERICAN FREEDOM AND AMERICAN SLAV-
ERY.—America seems, on the whole, to be a
country possessing vast advantages, and little
inconveniences; they have a cheap government,
and bad roads; they pay no tithes, and have
stage coaches without springs. They have no
poor laws and no monopolies—but their inns
are inconvenient, and travellers are teased with
questions. They have no collections in the fine
arts; but they have no Lord Chancellor, and
they can go to law without absolute ruin.
They cannot make Latin verses, but they ex-
pend immense sums in the education of the
poor. In all this the balance is prodigiously in
their favor : but then comes the great disgrace
and danger of America—the existence of slavery,
which, if not timeously corrected, will one day
entail (and ought to entail) a bloody servile
war upon the Americans, which will separate
America intoslave States and States disclaiming
slavery, and which remains at present as the
-



TUlit and (Uligoom 57
foulest blot in the moral character of that peo-
ple. A high-spirited nation, who cannot endure
the slightest act of foreign aggression, and who
revolt at the very shadow of domestic tyranny,
beat with cart-whips, and bind with chains, and
murder for the merest trifles, wretched human
beings who are of a more dusky color than
themselves; and have recently admitted into
their Union a new State, with the express per-
mission of ingrafting this atrocious wickedness
into their Constitution | No one can admire
the simple wisdom and manly firmness of the
Americans more than we do, or more despise
the pitiful propensity which exists among gov-
ernment runners to vent their small spite at
their character; but on the subject of slavery,
the conduct of America is, and has been, most
reprehensible. It is impossible to speak of it
with too much indignation and contempt; but
for it we should look forward with uuqualified
pleasure to such a land of freedom and such a
magnificent spectacle of human happiness.-
[E. R. 1824.]
AMERICAN REPUDIATION.—The Americans,
who boast to have improved the institutions of
the old world, have at least equalled its crimes.
A great nation, after trampling under foot all
earthly tyranny, has been guilty of a fraud as


58 5goney, 5mitb’s
enormous as ever disgraced the worst king of
the most degraded nation of Europe.—[Letters
on American Debts.]
AMERICAN BAD FAITH.—Little did the friends
of America expect it, and sad is the spectacle to
see you rejected by every state in Europe, as a
nation with whom no contract can be made,
because none will be kept; unstable in the very
foundations of social life, deficient in the ele-
ments of good faith, men who prefer any load
of infamy however great, to any pressure of
taxation however light.—[Letters on American
Debts.]
REVULSION CAUSED BY AMERICAN REPUDIA-
TION.—I am no enemy to America. I loved
and admired honest America when she respect-
ed the laws of pounds, shillings, and pence;
and I thought the United States the most
magnificent picture of human happiness: I
meddle now in these matters because I hate
fraud—because I pity the misery it has occa-
sioned—because I mourn over the hatred it has
excited against free institutions.—[Letters on
American Debts.]
PENNSYLVANIA PLUNDERERS.—I never meet
a Pennsylvanian at a London dinner without


"Ulit amo (Uligoom 59
feeling a disposition to seize and divide him,
to allot his beaver to one sufferer and his coat
to another, to appropriate his pocket-handker-
chief to the orphan, and to comfort the widow
with his silver watch, Broadway rings, and the
London Guide, which he always carries in his
pockets. How such a man can set himself
down at an English table without feeling that
he owes two or three pounds to every man in
company I am at a loss to conceive; he has no
more right to eat with honest men than a leper
has to eat with clean men. If he have a particle
of honor in his composition he should shut
himself up, and say: “I cannot mingle with
you, I belong to a degraded people—I must hide
myself—I am a plunderer from Pennsylvania.”
Figure to yourself a Pennsylvanian receiving
foreigners in his own country, walking over the
public works with them, and showing them
Larcenous Lake, Swindling Swamp, Crafty Ca-
nal, and Rogues’ Railway, and other dishonest
works. “This swamp we gained, (says the
patriotic borrower), by the repudiated loan of
1828. Our canal robbery was in 1830; we
pocketed your good people's money for the
railroad only last year.” All this may seem
very smart to the Americans; but if I had the
misfortune to be born among such a people, the
land of my fathers should not retain me a single


6o $yoney, 5mitb'g
moment after the act of repudiation. I would
appeal from my fathers to my forefathers. I
would fly to Newgate for greater purity of
thought, and seek in the prisons of England
for better rules of life.—[Letters on American
Debts.]
AMERICAN CREDIT.-This new and vain peo-
ple can never forgive us for having preceded
them 300 years in civilization. They are pre-
pared to enter into the most bloody wars in
England, not on account of Oregon, or bounda-
ries, or right of search, but because our clothes
and carriages are better made, and because
Bond Street beats Broadway. Wise Webster
does all he can to convince the people that
these are not lawful causes of war ; but wars
and long wars, they will one day or another
produce; and this, perhaps, is the only advan-
tage of repudiation. The Americans cannot
gratify their avarice and ambition at once; they
cannot cheat and conquer at the same time.
The warlike power of every country depends on
their Three per Cents. If Caesar were to reap-
pear upon earth, Wettenhall's list would be
more important than his Commentaries; Roths-
child would open and shut the temple of Janus;
Thomas Baring, or Bates, would probably
command the Tenth Legion, and the soldiers


WUlit amo (Oligoom 61
would march to battle with loud cries of Scrip
and Omnium reduced, Consols, and Caesar!
Now, the Americans have cut themselves off
from all resources of credit. Having been as
dishonest as they can be, they are prevented
from being as foolish as they wish to be. In
the whole habitable globe they cannot borrow
a guinea, and they cannot draw the sword
because they have not money to buy it.
If I were an American of any of the honest
States, I would never rest till I had compelled
Pennsylvania to be as honest as myself. The
bad faith of that State brings disgrace on all;
just as common snakes are killed because vipers
are dangerous.
THE FOLLY OF REPUDIATION.—We all know
that the Americans can fight. Nobody doubts
their courage. I see now in my mind's eye a
whole army on the plains of Pennsylvania in
battle array, immense corps of insolvent light
infantry, regiments of heavy-horse debtors, bat-
talions of repudiators, brigades of bankrupts,
with Vivre sans payer, ou mourir, on their
banners, and aere alieno on their trumpets: all
these desperate debtors would fight to the death
for their country, and probably drive into the
sea their invading creditors. Of their courage,
I repeat again, I have no doubt. I wish I had


62 $yöncy $mitb's
the same confidence in their wisdom. But I
believe they will become intoxicated by the
flattery of unprincipled orators ; and, instead
of entering with us into a noble competition in
making calico (the great object for which the
Anglo-Saxon race appears to have been created),
they will waste their happiness and their money
(if they can get any) in years of silly, bloody,
foolish, and accursed war, to prove to the world
that Perkins is a real fine gentleman, and that
the carronades of the Washington steamer will
carry farther than those of the Britisher Vic-
toria, or the Robert Peel vessel of war.
AMERICAN PENANCE.-As for me, as soon as
I hear that the last farthing is paid to the last
creditor, I will appear on my knees at the bar
of the Pennsylvania Senate in the plumeopicean
robe of American controversy. Each Conscript
Jonathan shall trickle over me a few drops of
tar, and help to decorate me with those penal
plumes in which the vanquished reasoner of the
transatlantic world does homage to the physical
superiority of his opponents.
VALUE OF PRINCIPLE. — And now, drab-
colored men of Pennsylvania, there is yet a
moment left: the eyes of all Europe are
anchored upon you—


TCUlit and Uligoom 63
“Surrexit mundus justis furiis; ”
start up from that trance of dishonesty into
which you are plunged; don’t think of the
flesh which walls about your life, but of that sin
which has hurled you from the heaven of char-
acter, which hangs over you like a devouring
pestilence, and makes good men sad, and
ruffians dance and sing. It is not for Gin Sling
and Sherry Cobbler alone that man is to live, but
for those great principles against which no
argument can be listened to—principles which
give to every power a double power above their
functions and their offices, which are the
books, the arts, the academies that teach, lift
up, and nourish the world—principles (I am
quite serious in what I say) above cash, superior
to cotton, higher than currency—principles,
without which it is better to die than to live,
which every servant of God, over every sea and
in all lands, should cherish—usque ad abdita
spiramenta animae.
ScIENTIFIc FRUITs of CoNQUEST.--To mili-
tary men we have been, and must be, indebted
for our first acquaintance with the interior of
many countries. Conquest has explored more
than ever curiosity has done; and the path for
science has been commonly opened by the
sword.—[E. R. 1803.1


64 $goney, 5mitb's
ENGLISH RESERVE.-The society into which
a transient stranger gains the most easy access
in any country, is not often that which ought
to stamp the national character; and no criterion
can be more fallible, in a people so reserved and
inaccessible as the British, who (even when they
open their doors to letters of introduction) can-
not for years overcome the awkward timidity
of their nature.—[E. R. 18o3.]
FRENCH PRECIPITATION. — The late Mr.
Pétion, who was sent over into this country to
acquire a knowledge of our criminal law, is said
to have declared himself thoroughly informed
upon the subject, after remaining precisely two
and thirty minutes in the Old Bailey.—[E. R.
1803.]
BENEFITS OF AVARICE.-The avaricious love
of gain, which is so feelingly deplored, appears
to us a principle which, in able hands, might
be guided to the most salutary purposes. The
object is to encourage the love of labor, which
is best encouraged by the love of money.—
[E. R.]
PLAIN WRITING. —Such men, to be sure,
have existed as Julius Caesar; but, in general,
a correct and elegant style is hardly attainable


TUlit amo (Uligoom 65
by those who have passed their lives in action:
and no one has such a pedantic love of good
writing, as to prefer mendacious finery to rough
and ungrammatical truth.-[E. R.]
THE INDICATIVE MooD.—The whole merit
of violent deviations from common style de-
pends upon their rarity, and nothing does, for
ten pages together, but the indicative mood.—
[E. R.]
Acquisition of GooD FoRGOTTEN.—The
laborious acquisition of any good we have long
enjoyed is apt to be forgotten.—[E. R.]
FALSE QUANTITIES.—A young man who, on
a public occasion, makes a false quantity at the
outset of life, can seldom or never get over it.
—[E. R.]
BAD Books.-The immorality of any book
(in our estimation) is to be determined by the
general impressions it leaves on those minds
whose principles, not yet ossified, are capable
of affording a less powerful defence to its in-
fluence.—[E. R. 1803.]
GILDING THE GALLows.—It is in vain to say
the fable evinces, in the last act, that vice is


06 $yoney, 5mitb’8
productive of misery. We may decorate a
villain with graces and felicities for nine
volumes, and hang him in the last page. This
is not teaching virtue, but gilding the gallows,
and raising up splendid associations in favor of
being hanged.—[AE. A. 1803.]
PUBLIC OPINION AND DESPOTIC POWER.—
Many governments are despotic in law, which
are not despotic in fact; not because they are
restrained by their own moderation, but be-
cause, in spite of their theoretical omnipotence,
they are compelled, in many important points,
to respect either public opinion or the opinion
of other balancing powers, which without the
express recognition of law, have gradually
sprung up in the state. Russia, and Imperial
Rome, had their praetorian guards. Turkey has
its uhlema. Public opinion almost always
makes some exceptions to its blind and slavish
submission ; and in bowing its neck to the foot
of a sultan, stipulates how hard he shall tread.
—[E. R. 1803.]
NUNNERIES.–Societies of this sort might
perhaps be extended to other classes, and
to other countries, with some utility. The only
objection to a nunnery is, that those who change
their minds cannot change their situation.


TSUlit amo (Oligoom 67
That a number of unmarried females should
collect together into one mass, and subject
themselves to some few rules of convenience, is
a system which might afford great resources
and accommodation to a number of helpless
individuals, without proving injurious to the
community; unless, indeed, any very timid
statesman shall be alarmed at the progress of
celibacy, and imagine that the increase and
multiplication of the human race may become
a mere antiquated habit.—[E. R. 1803.]
PROTECTION OF THE Accus ED.—It is a prin-
ciple that should never be lost sight of, that an
accused person is presumed to be innocent :
and that no other vexation should be imposed
upon him than what is absolutely necessary for
the purposes of future investigation. The im-
prisonment of a poor man, because he cannot
find bail, is not a gratuitous vexation, but a
necessary severity; justified only, because no
other, nor milder mode of security can, in that
particular instance, be produced.—[E. R. 1803.]
ATTRACTION OF HANGING.—A very curious
circumstance took place in the kingdom of
Denmark, in the middle of the last century,
relative to the infliction of capital punishments
upon malefactors. They were attended from


68 $goney, 5mitb'g
the prison to the place of execution by priests,
accompanied by a very numerous procession,
singing psalms, etc., etc.; which ended, a long
discourse was addressed by the priest to the
culprit, who was hung as soon as he had heard
it. This spectacle, and all the pious cares
bestowed upon the criminals, so far seduced the
imaginations of the common people, that many
of them committed murder purposely to enjoy
such inestimable advantages, and the govern-
ment was positively obliged to make hanging
dull as well as deadly, before it ceased to be an
object of popular ambition.—[E. R. 1802.]
HoMERIC MORALITY. —There is, every now
and then, some plain coarse morality in Homer;
but the most bloody revenge, and the most
savage cruelty in warfare, the ravishing of
women, and the sale of men, etc., etc., etc., are
circumstances which the old bard seems to re-
late as the ordinary events of his times, without
ever dreaming that there could be much harm
in them ; and if it be urged that Homertook his
ideas of right and wrong from a barbarous age,
that is just saying, in other words, that Homer
had very imperfect ideas of natural law.—
[E. R. 1802.]
BLAck Fops.-There is a class of fops not


TJUlit amo (Oligoom 69
usually designated by that epithet — men
clothed in profound black, with large canes,
and strange amorphous hats—of big speech,
and imperative presence—talkers about Plato
—great affecters of senility—despisers of women,
and all the graces of life—fierce foes to common
sense—abusive of the living, and approving no
one who has not been dead for at least a century.
Such fops, as vain, and as shallow as their fra-
ternity in Bond Street, differ from these only as
Gorgonius differed from Rufillus. – [E. R.
1803.]
MEN OF PARADOX.—There are some men
who continue to astonish and please the world,
even in the support of a bad cause. They are
mighty in their fallacies, and beautiful in their
errors.-[E. R.]
SUPERFLUITY of PoETs.-Though we praise
Mr. Broughton for his book, and praise him
very sincerely, we must warn him against that
dreadful propensity which young men have for
writing verses. There is nothing of which
Nature has been more bountiful than poets.
They swarm like the spawn of codfish, with a
vicious fecundity that invites and requires
destruction. To publish verses is become a sort
of evidence that a man wants sense, which is


7o 5 goney, 5mitb’s
repelled not by writing good verses, but by
writing excellent verses.—[/2. R.]
COLONIAL GOVERNORS.–It is common, we
know, to send a person who is somebody’s
cousin; but, when a new empire is to be
founded, the Treasury should send out, into
some other part of the town, for a man of sense
and character.—[AE. R.]
QUALIFICATION OF GOVERNORS. – Young
surgeons are examined in Surgeons' Hall on
the methods of cutting off legs and arms before
they are allowed to practise surgery. An exam-
ination on the principles of Adam Smith, and a
license from Mr. Ricardo, seem to be almost a
necessary preliminary for the appointment of
governors.-[E. R.]
Novel.S.—The main question as to a novel is
—did it amuse? were you surprised at dinner
coming so soon P did you mistake eleven for
ten, and twelve for eleven 2 were you too late
to dress 2 and did you sit up beyond the usual
hour? If a novel produces these effects, it is
good ; if it does not—story, language, love,
scandal itself cannot save it. It is only meant
to please; and it must do that, or it does noth-
ing. The objection, indeed, to these composi-


TCUlit amo (Uligoom 71
tions, when they are well done, is, that it is
impossible to do any thing, or perform any
human duty, while we are engaged in them.
Who can read Mr. Hallam’s “Middle Ages,” or
extract the root of an impossible quantity, or
draw up a bond, when he is in the middle of Mr.
Trebeck and Lady Charlotte Duncan P. How
can the boy's lesson be heard, about the Jove-
nourished Achilles, or his six miserable verses
upon Dido be corrected, when Henry Granby
and Mr. Courtenay are both making love to
Miss Jermyn 2 Common life palls in the middle
of these artificial scenes. All is emotion when
the book is open—all dull, flat, and feeble when
it is shut.—[E. R. 1826.]
CoNCRUITY IN FICTION.—Nobody should
suffer his hero to have a black eye, or to be
pulled by the nose. The Iliad would never
have come down to these times if Agamemnon
had given Achilles a box on the ear. We
should have trembled for the AEneid if any
Tyrian nobleman had kicked the pious AEneas
in the fourth book. AEneas may have deserved
it, but he could not have founded the Roman
Empire after so distressing an accident.—
[E. R. 1826.]
A BORE.-Lord Chesterton we have often


72 $yoney, 5mitb'g
met with, and suffered a good deal from his
Lordship : a heavy, pompous, meddling peer,
occupying a great share of the conversation—
saying things in ten words which required only
two, and evidently convinced that he is making
a great impression; a large man with a large
head, and very landed manner; knowing
enough to torment his fellow creatures, not to
instruct them—the ridicule of young ladies, and
the natural butt and target of wit. It is easy to
talk of carnivorous animals and beasts of prey,
but does such a man, who lays waste a whole
party of civilized beings by prosing, reflect upon
the joys he spoils, and the misery he creates, in
the course of his life 2 and that any one who
listens to him through politeness would prefer
toothache or earache to his conversation ?
Does he consider the extreme uneasiness which
ensues, when the company have discovered a
man to be an extremely absurd person, at the
same time that it is absolutely impossible to
convey, by words or manner, the most distant
suspicion of the discovery 2 And then, who
punishes this bore ? What sessions and what
assizes for him 2 What bill is found against
him 2 Who indicts him 2 When the judges
have gone their vernal and autumnal rounds—
the sheep-stealer disappears—the swindler gets
ready for the Bay—the solid parts of the mur-


TCUlit ano CUlisoom 73
derer are preserved in anatomical collections.
But, after twenty years of crime, the bore is
discovered in the same house, in the same
attitude, eating the same soup, unpunished,
untried, undissected—no scaffold, no skeleton
—no mob of gentlemen and ladies to gape over
his last dying speech and confession.—[E. R.
1826.]
DELPHINE.—This dismal trash, which has
nearly dislocated the jaws of every critic among
us with gaping, so alarmed Buonaparte, that he
seized the whole impression, sent Madame de
Staël out of Paris, and, for aught we know,
sleeps in a nightcap of steel, and dagger-proof
blankets. To us it appears rather an attack upon
the Ten Commandments than the government
of Buonaparte, and calculated not so much to
enforce the rights of the Bourbons, as the bene-
fits of adultery, murder, and a great number of
other vices, which have been somehow or other
strangely neglected in this country, and too
much so (according to the apparent opinion of
Madame de Staël) even in France.
Our general opinion of Delphine is, that it is
calculated to shed a mild lustre over adultery;
by gentle and convenient gradation, to destroy
the modesty and the caution of women; to
facilitate the acquisition of easy vices, and en-
* = .


74 $goney, $nitb’s
cumber the difficulty of virtue. What a
wretched qualification of this censure to add,
that the badness of the principles is alone
corrected by the badness of the style, and that
this celebrated lady would have been very
guilty, if she had not been very dull !—[E. R.
1803.]
SUBJECTION of CLERGY. — The parochial
clergy are as much unrepresented in the English
Parliament as they are in the parliament of
Brobdignag. The bishops make just what laws
they please, and the bearing they may have on
the happiness of the clergy at large never for
one moment comes into the serious considera-
tion of Parliament—[E. R. 1802.]
UTILITY AND WIT.—The idea of utility is
always inimical to the idea of wit.—[E. R.]
A GRACEFUL ILLUSTRATION.—The resem-
blance between the sandal tree imparting (while
it falls) its aromatic flavor to the edge of the axe,
and the benevolent man rewarding evil with
good, would be witty, did it not excite virtuous
emotions.—[E. A.]
IRISH BULLS.–Though the question is not a
very easy one, we shall venture to say, that a


TUlit ano Úligoom 75
“bull’’ is an apparent congruity and real in-
congruity of ideas suddenly discovered. And if
this account of bulls be just, they are (as might
have been supposed) the very reverse of wit;
for as wit discovers real relations that are not
apparent, bulls admit apparent relations that
are not real. The pleasure arising from wit
proceeds from our surprise at suddenly discov-
ering two things to be similar in which we
suspected no similarity. The pleasure arising
from bulls proceeds from our discovering two
things to be dissimilar in which a resemblance
might have been suspected.
It is clear that a bull cannot depend upon
mere incongruity alone; for if a man were to
say that he would ride to London upon a cocked
hat, or that he would cut his throat with a pound
of pickled salmon, this, though completely in-
congruous, would not be to make bulls, but to
talk nonsense. The stronger the apparent
connection, and the more complete the real
disconnection of the ideas, the greater the
surprise and the better the bull. The less
apparent, and the more complete the relations
established by wit, the higher gratification does
it afford. A great deal of the pleasure experi-
enced from bulls proceeds from the sense of
superiority in ourselves. Bulls which we
invented, or knew to be invented, might please,


76 5 goney, 5mitb's
but in a 1ess degree, for want of this additional
zest.—[E. A. 1803.]
TRAINING OF Boys.-Put a hundred boys
together, and the fear of being laughed at will
always be a strong influencing motive with
every individual among them. If a master can
turn this principle to his own use, and get boys
to laugh at vice, instead of the old plan of
laughing at virtue, is he not doing a very new,
a very difficult, and a very laudable thing P-
[E. R. 1806.]
EMULATION OF RANK IN SCHOOLS.–It is,
above all things, perilous to create an order of
merit in a primary school, because it gives the
boys an idea of the origin of nobility. For our
part, when we saw these ragged and interesting
little nobles, shining in their tin stars, we only
thought it probable that the spirit of emulation
would make them better ushers, tradesmen, and
mechanics. We did, in truth, imagine we had
observed, in some of their faces, a bold project
for procuring better breeches for keeping out
the blasts of heaven, which howled through
those garments in every direction, and of aspir-
ing hereafter to greater strength of seam, and
more perfect continuity of cloth. But for the
safety of the titled order we had no fear; nor did


(Ulit and Uligöom 77
we once dream that the black rod which whipt
these dirty little dukes would one day be borne
before them as the emblem of legislative dignity
and the sign of noble blood.
SPECIAL INTERVENTIONS OF PROVIDENCE.-
A belief that Providence interferes in all the
little actions of our lives, refers all merit and
demerit to bad and good fortune; and causes
the successful man to be always considered as a
good man, and the unhappy man as the object
of divine vengeance. It furnishes ignorant and
designing men with a power which is sure to be
abused :—the cry of, a judgment, a judgment, it
is always easy to make, but not easy to resist.
It encourages the grossest superstitions; for if
the Deity rewards and punishes on every slight
occasion, it is quite impossible, but that such a
helpless being as man will set himself at work
to discover the will of Heaven in the appear-
ances of outward nature, and to apply all the
phenomena of thunder, lightning, wind, and
every striking appearance to the regulation of
his conduct; as the poor Methodist, when he
rode into Piccadilly in a thunder-storm, and
imagined that all the uproar of the elements
was a mere hint to him not to preach at Mr.
Romaine's chapel. Hence a great deal of error,
and a great deal of secret misery.—[E. R. 1808.]


78 5goney, 5mitb's
METHODISTS ExAGGERATE THE DOCTRINE.
—There is nothing heretical in saying, that God
sometimes intervenes with his special provi-
dence; but these people differ from the Estab-
lished Church, in the degree in which they
insist upon this doctrine. In the hands of a
man of sense and education, it is a safe
doctrine; in the management of the Methodists,
it becomes ridiculous and degrading.
TRUE BASIS OF RELIGION.—The man who
places religion upon a false basis is the greatest
enemy to religion.—[E. R. 1808.]
PRAcTICAL PIETY.—The honest and the or-
thodox method is to prepare young people for
the world as it actually exists; to tell them that
they will often find vice perfectly successful,
virtue exposed to a long train of afflictions;
that they must bear this patiently, and look to
another world for its rectification.—[E. A.
1808.]
METHODIsM.—The Methodists hate pleasure
and amusements; no theatre, no cards, no
dancing, no punchinello, no dancing dogs, no
blind fiddlers —all the amusements of the rich
and of the poor must disappear, wherever these
gloomy people get a footing. It is not the


TUlit and UÇligoom 79
abuse of pleasure which they attack, but the
interspersion of pleasure, however much it is
guarded by good sense and moderation ;-it is
not only wicked to hear the licentious plays of
Congreve, but wicked to hear Henry the Fifth,
or the School for Scandal;-it is not only dissi-
pated to run about to all the parties in London
and Edinburgh, but dancing is not fit for a
being who is preparing himself for Eternity.
Ennui, wretchedness, melancholy, groans and
sighs, are the offerings which these unhappy
men make to a Deity who has covered the
earth with gay colors, and scented it with rich
perfumes; and shown us, by the plan and order
of his works, that he has given to man some-
thing better than a bare existence, and scattered
over his creation a thousand superfluous joys,
which are totally unnecessary to the mere sup-
port of life.—[E. R. 1808.]
Overwrought PIETY.—Men must eat, and
drink, and work ; and if you wish to fix upon
them high and elevated notions, as the ordinary
furniture of their minds, you do these two
things : you drive men of warm temperaments
mad ; and you introduce, in the rest of the
world, a low and shocking familiarity with
words and images, which every real friend to re-
ligion would wish to keep sacred.—[E. R. 1808.]


8O $poney, 5mitb's
MoDERN FANATICISM.—The fanaticism so
prevalent in the present day, is one of those
evils from which society is never wholly
exempt; but which bursts out at different
periods, with peculiar violence, and sometimes
overwhelms every thing in its course. The last
eruption took place about a century and a half
ago, and destroyed both Church and Throne
with its tremendous force. Though irresistible,
it was short ; enthusiasm spent its force—the
usual reaction took place; and England was
deluged with ribaldry and indecency, because it
had been worried with fanatical restrictions.—
[E. R. 1808.]
BUOYANCY OF RELIGION.—Religion is so
noble and powerful a consideration—it is so
buoyant and so insubmergible—that it may be
made, by fanatics, to carry with it any degree
of error and of perilous absurdity.—[E. R. 1808.]
CAUSE OF FANATICISM.—The great and per-
manent cause of the increase of Methodism, is
the cause which has given birth to fanaticism
in all ages, the facility of mingling human
errors with the fundamental truths of religion.
—[E. R. 1808.]
Low ARTS OF FANATICS.—The Tabernacle


TÜlit amo (Uligoom 81
really is to the Church what Sadler's Wells is to
the Drama. There, popularity is gained by
vaulting and tumbling, by low arts, which the
regular clergy are not too idle to have recourse
to, but too dignified. Their institutions are
chaste and severe—they endeavor to do that
which, upon the whole, and for a great number
of years, will be found to be the most admirable
and the most useful. It is no part of their plan
to descend to small artifices, for the sake of
present popularity and effect. The religion of
the common people under the government
of the Church may remain as it is for ever; the
enthusiasm must be progressive, or it will
expire.—[E. R. 1808.]
INROADS OF METHODISM.—The Methodists
have made an alarming inroad into the Church,
and they are attacking the army and navy.
The principality of Wales, and the East-India
Company they have already acquired. All
mines and subterraneous places belong to them;
they creep into hospitals and small schools,
and so work their way upwards.-[E. R. 1808.]
STATUTORY FAITH. — If experience has
taught us any thing, it is the absurdity of
controlling men's notions of eternity by acts
of Parliament.—[E. R. 1808.]


82 $goncy $mitb’s
METHODISM.–In routing out a nest of conse-
crated cobblers, and in bringing to light such a
perilous heap of trash as we were obliged to
work through, speaking of the Methodists and
Missionaries, we are generally conceived to
have rendered a useful service to the cause of
rational religion. In spite of all misrepresen-
tation, we have ever been, and ever shall be,
the sincere friends of sober and rational
Christianity. We are quite ready, if any fair
opportunity occur, to defend it to the best of
our ability from the tiger-spring of infidelity;
and we are quite determined, if we can prevent
such an evil, that it shall not be eaten up by the
nasty and numerous vermin of Methodism.—
[AE. R. 1808.]
DESTRUCTION OF VERMIN.—Mr. John Styles
should remember that it is not the practice with
destroyers of vermin to allow the little victims
a veto upon the weapons used against them.
If this was otherwise, we should have one set
of vermin banishing small tooth-combs; an-
other protesting against mouse-traps; a third
prohibiting the finger and thumb; a fourth
exclaiming against the intolerable infamy of
using soap and water. It is impossible, how-
ever, to listen to such pleas. They must all be
caught, killed, and cracked, in the manner, and


TJUlit allo (Uligoom 83
by the instruments which are found most effica-
cious to their destruction; and the more they
cry out, the greater plainly is the skill used
against them.—[E. R. 1808.]
METHODISTICAL LUBRICITY. —It is scarcely
possible to reduce the drunken declamations
of Methodism to a point, to grasp the wrig-
gling lubricity of these cunning animals, and
to fix then in one position.—[E. R. 1808.]
METHODIST GARMENTs.-There is, at this
moment, a man in London who prays for what
garments he wants, and finds them next morn-
ing in his room, tight and fitting. This man,
as might be expected, gains between two and
three thousand a year from the common people
by preaching. Anna, the prophetess, encamps
in the woods of America, with thirteen or fourteen
thousand followers, and has visits every night
from the prophet Elijah. Joanna Southcote
raises the dead, etc., etc. Mr. Styles will call us
atheists and disciples of the French school, for
what we are about to say, but it is our decided
opinion that there is some fraud in the pro-
phetic visit; and it is but too probable that the
clothes are merely human, and the man meas-
ured for them in the common way.—[E. R.
1808.]


84 5goney, 5mitb’s
CANT.-If the choice rested with us, we
should say,+Give us back our wolves again—
restore our Danish invaders—curse us with any
evil but the evil of a canting, deluded, and
Methodistical populace.—[E. A. 1809.]
-----"
MISSIONARIES IN INDIA.—The plan, it seems,
is this :—We are to educate India in Christian-
ity, as a parent does his child; and when it is
perfect in its catechism, then to pack up, quit
it entirely, and leave it to its own management.
This is the evangelical project for separating a
colony from the parent country. They see
nothing of the bloodshed, and massacres, and
devastations, nor of the speeches in Parliament,
squandered millions, fruitless expeditions, jobs
and pensions, with which the loss of our Indian
possessions would necessarily be accompanied;
nor will they see that these consequences could
arise from the attempt, and not from the com-
pletion of their scheme of conversion. We
should be swept from the peninsula by Pagan
zealots; and should lose, among other things,
all chance of ever really converting them.—[E.
R. 1809.]
MISSIONARY LABORs.-Prove to us that they
are fit men, doing a fit thing, and we are ready
to praise the missionaries; but it gives us no


TUlit amo (Uligoom 85
pleasure to hear that a man has walked a thou-
sand miles with peas in his shoes, unless we
know why and wherefore, and to what good
purpose he has done it.—[E. R. 1809.]
MISSIONARY PRETENSIONS.—The mission-
aries complain of intolerance. A weasel
might as well complain of intolerance when
he is throttled for sucking eggs.-[E. R. 1809.]
EFFECT OF MISSIONS IN INDIA.—These men
talk of the loss of our possessions in India,
as if it made the argument against them only
more or less strong; whereas, in our estimation,
it makes the argument against them conclusive,
and shuts up the case. Two men possess a
cow, and they quarrel violently how they shall
manage this cow. They will surely both of them
(if they have a particle of common sense) agree
that there is an absolute necessity for prevent-
ing the cow from running away. It is not only
the loss of India that is in question—but how
will it be lost? By the massacre of ten or
twenty thousand English ; by the blood of our
sons and brothers, who have been toiling so
many years to return to their native country.
—[E. R. 1809.]
CrviLIzATION of INDIA.—It may be our duty


86 $goney, 5mitb’s
to make the Hindoos Christians—that is
another argument; but that we shall by so do-
ing strengthen our empire, we utterly deny.
What signifies identity of religion to a question
of this kind? Diversity of bodily color and of
language would soon overpower this considera-
tion. Make the Hindoos enterprising, active,
and reasonable as yourselves—destroy the eter-
nal track in which they have moved for ages,
and in a moment they would sweep you off the
face of the earth.-[E. R. 1809.]
CONVERSION OF HINDOOS.—When the tenac-
ity of the Hindoos on the subject of their re-
ligion is adduced as a reason against the success
of the missions, the friends of this undertaking
are always fond of reminding us how patiently
the Hindoos submitted to the religious perse-
cution and butchery of Tippo. The inference
from such citations is truly alarming. It is the
imperious duty of government to watch some
of these men most narrowly. There is nothing
of which they are not capable. And what, after
all, did Tippo affect in the way of conversion ?
How many Mahometans did he make 2 There
was all the carnage of Medea's Kettle, and
none of the transformation.—[E. R. 1809.]
PROBABLE LOSS OF INDIA.—Upon the whole,


(Ulit amo (Uligoom 87
it appears to us hardly possible to push the
business of proselytism in India to any length,
without incurring the utmost risk of losing our
empire. The danger is more tremendous, be-
cause it may be so sudden ; religious fears are
a very probable cause of disaffection in the
troops; if the troops are generally disaffected,
our Indian empire may be lost to us as suddenly
as a frigate or a fort.—[E. R. 1808.]
DANGER of INDIA.—Nothing is more pre-
carious than our empire in India. Suppose we
were to be driven out of it to-morrow, and to
leave behind us twenty thousand Hindoos ; it
is most probable they would relapse into
heathenism; but their original station in society
could not be regained.—[E. R. 1808.]
CASTES IN INDIA.—The institution of castes
has preserved India in the same state in which
it existed is the days of Alexander, and which
would leave it without the slightest change in
habits and manners, if we were to abandon the
country to-morrow.—[E. R. 1808.]
HINDoo PROSELYTEs.-The duty of conver-
sion is less plain and 1ess imperious when con-
version exposes the convert to great present
misery. An African, or an Otaheite proselyte,


8S 5goney, 5mitb's
might not perhaps be less honored by his coun-
trymen if he became a Christian ; a Hindoo is
instantly subjected to the most perfect degrada-
tion.—[E. R. 1808.]
SUPERSTITION BETTER THAN ATHEISM.—
Conversion is no duty at all if it merely destroys
the old religion, without really and effectually
teaching the new one. Brother Ringletaube
may write home that he makes a Christian,
when, in reality, he ought only to state that he
has destroyed a Hindoo. Foolish and imper-
fect as the religion of a Hindoo is, it is at least
some restraint upon the intemperance of human
passions. It is better a Brahmin should be re-
spected than that nobody should be respected.
A Hindoo had better believe that a deity, with
an hundred legs and arms, will reward and pun-
ish him hereafter than that he is not to be pun-
ished at all.—[E. A. 1808.]
RELIGIOUS EXCITABILITY OF INDIA.—No
man (not an Anabaptist) will, we presume, con-
tend that it is our duty to preach the natives
into an insurrection, or to lay before them, so
fully and emphatically, the scheme of the Gos-
pel, as to make them rise up in the dead of the
night and shoot their instructors through the
head. Even for missionary purposes, there-


TCUlit and (Uligoom 89
fore, the utmost discretion is necessary; and
if we wish to teach the natives a better religion,
we must take care to do it in a manner which
will not inspire them with a passion for political
change, or we shall inevitably lose our disciples
altogether. To us it appears quite clear that
neither Hindoos nor Mahometans are at all indif-
ferent to the attacks made upon their religion;
the arrogance and irritability of the Mahometan
are universally acknowledged ; nor do the Brah-
mins show the smallest disposition to behold the
encroachments upon their religion with pas-
siveness and unconcern.—[E. R. 1808,)
RESPECT FOR OPINION IN INDIA.—How is it
in human nature that a Brahmin should be in-
different to encroachments upon his religion ?
His reputation, his dignity, and in great meas-
ure his wealth, depend upon the preservation
of the present superstitions; and why is it to be
supposed that motives which are so powerful
with all other human beings are inoperative
with him alone? If the Brahmins, however,
are disposed to excite a rebellion in support
of their own influence, no man, who knows
any thing of India, can doubt that they have it
in their power to effect it.
Our object, therefore, is not only not to do
anything violent and unjust upon subjects of


(Ulit and Uligöom 9I
of bending the laws, manners, and institutions
of a country to the dictates of a new religion ?
If it were easy to persuade the Hindoos that
their own religion was folly, it would be infi-
nitely difficult effectually to teach them any
other. They would tumble their own idols into
the river and you would build them no churches:
you would destroy all their present motives for
doing right and avoiding wrong, without being
able to fix upon their minds the more sublime
motives by which you profess to be actuated.
If there were a fair prospect of carrying the
Gospel into regions where it was before un-
known, if such a project did not expose the
best possessions of the country to extreme dan-
ger, and if it was in the hands of men who were
discreet as well as devout, we should consider
it to be a scheme of true piety, benevolence,
and wisdom, but the baseness and malignity
of fanaticism shall never prevent us from at-
tacking its arrogance, its ignorance, and its
activity. For what vice can be more tre-
mendous than that which, while it wears the
outward appearance of religion, destroys the
happiness of man, and dishonors the name of
God.—[E. R. 1808.]
TYRANNY of BISHoPs.—Bishops are men;
not always the wisest of men; not always pre-


92 $goney, 5mitb'g
ferred for eminent virtues and talents, or for
any good reason whatever known to the public.
They are almost always devoid of striking and
indecorous vices; but a man may be very shal-
low, very arrogant, and very vindictive, though
a bishop ; and pursue with unrelenting hatred
a subordinate clergyman, whose principles he
dislikes and whose genius he fears.-[E. R.
1809.]
PETTICOAT BISHOPS.—I have seen in the
course of my life, as the mind of the prelate
decayed, wife bishops, daughter bishops, butler
bishops, and even cook and housekeeper bish-
ops.-[E. R. 1809.]
NON-RESIDENCE. — We remember Horace’s
description of the misery of a parish where
there is no resident clergyman.
“Illacrymabiles
Urgentur, ignotique longá.
Nocte, carent quia vate sacro.”
[E. R. 1809.]
PENALTIES of NoN-RESIDENCE.-Every lay
plunderer, and every fanatical coxcomb, is
forging fresh chains for the English clergy;
and we should not be surprised, in a very little
time, to see them absenting themselves from


(Ulit ano Úligoom 93
their benefices by a kind of day-rule, like
prisoners in the King's Bench.-[E. R. 1809.]
FORCED RELIGION.—You may drag men into
church by main force, and prosecute them for
buying a pot of beer, and cut them off from the
enjoyment of a leg of mutton ; –and you may
do all this, till you make the common people
hate Sunday, and the clergy, and religion, and
every thing which relates to such subjects.-
[E. R. 1810.]
RELIGION BY INDICTMENT.-A robber and a
murderer must be knocked on the head like
mad dogs; but we have no great opinion of the
possibility of indicting men into piety, or of
calling in the Quarter Sessions to the aid of re-
ligion.—[E. R. 1810.]
OUTwARD ConForMITY. —To compel men to
go to church uuder a penalty, appears to us to
be absolutely absurd. The bitterest enemy of
religion will necessarily be that person who is
driven to a compliance with its outward cere-
monies, by informers and justices of the peace.
—[E. R. 1810.]
RELIGIOUS DUTIES INDEPENDENT OF LAW.—
To go to church is a duty of the greatest possible


94 5goney, 5mitb’s
importance; and on the blasphemy and vulgarity
of swearing, there can be but one opinion. But
such duties are not the objects of legislation ;
they must be left to the general state of public
sentiment; which sentiment must be influenced
by example, by the exertions of the pulpit and
the press, and, above all, by education. The
fear of God can never be taught by constables,
nor the pleasures of religion be learnt from a
common informer.—[E. R. 1810.]
OFFICIAL SUPPRESSION OF VICE. — Men,
whose trade is rat-catching, love to catch rats;
the bug-destroyer seizes on his bug with de-
light; and the suppressor is gratified by finding
his vice. The last soon becomes a mere trades-
man like the others; none of them moralize, or
lament that their respective evils should exist
in the world.—[E. R. 1810.]
LovE OF OFFICE.-Profligacy in taking office
is so extreme, that we have no doubt public
men may be found, who, for half a century,
would postpone all remedies for a pestilence, if
the preservation of their places depended upon
the propagation of the virus.-[E. R. 1808.]
PLURALITY OF INFORMERS.–Thirty or forty
informers roaming about the metropolis, may
*


(Ulit amo (Oligocm 95
frighten the mass of offenders a little, and do
some good ; ten thousand informers would
either create an insurrection, or totally destroy
the confidence and cheerfulness of private life.
—[E. R. 1809.]
ExtorTION BY INFORMERS.—If it be lawful
for respectable men to combine for the purpose
of turning informers, it is lawful for the lowest
and most despicable race of informers to do the
same thing; and then it is quite clear that
every species of wickedness and extortion
would be the consequence.—[E. R. 1809.]
AUTHORITY OF VIRTUE.-It is of great im-
portance to keep public opinion on the side
of virtue. To their authorized and legal cor-
rectors, mankind are, on common occasions,
ready enough to submit: but there is something
in the self-erection of a voluntary magistracy
which creates so much disgust, that it almost
renders vice popular, and puts the offence at a
premium.—[E. R. 1809.]
THE DRAMA.—There is something in the
word Playhouse which seems so closely con-
nected, in the minds of some people, with sin
and Satan, that it stands in their vocabulary for
every species of abomination. And yet why?


96 $goney, $nitb’s
Where is every feeling more roused in favor of
virtue than at a good play? Where is goodness
so feelingly, so enthusiastically learnt? What
so solemn as to see the excellent passions of the
human heart called forth by a great actor,
animated by a great poet? To hear Siddons
repeat what Shakespeare wrote To behold the
child and his mother—the noble and the poor
artisan—the monarch and his subjects—all ages
and all ranks convulsed with one common
passion — wrung with one common anguish,
and, with loud sobs and cries, doing involuntary
homage to the God that made their hearts |
What wretched infatuation to interdict such
amusements as these ! What a blessing that
mankind can be allured from sensual gratifica-
tion, and find relaxation and pleasure in such
pursuits l—[E. R. 1809.]
PoliticAL OPPOSITION.—It is the easiest of
all things, too, in this country, to make Eng-
lishmen believe that those who oppose the
Goverument wish to ruin the country.—[E. A.
1809.]
Politicians JUDGED BY RESULTs. – The
visible and immediate stake for which English
politicians play, is not large enough to attract
the notice of the people, and to call them off


(Clit amo (Uligoom 97
from their daily occupations, to investigate
thoroughly the character and motives of men
engaged in the business of legislation. The
people can only understand, and attend to, the
last results of a long series of measures. They
are impatient of the details which lead to these
results; and it is the easiest of all things to
make them believe that those who insist upon.
such details are actuated only by factious mo-
tives.—[E. R. 1809.]
JEALOUSY OF FREEDOM.–When a nation has
become free, it is extremely difficult to per-
suade them that their freedom is only to be
preserved by perpetual and minute jealousy.—
[E. R. 1809.]
POLITICAL INDEPENDENCE IN THE CHURCH.
—Political independence—discouraged enough
in these times among all classes of men—is
sure, in the timid profession of the church, to
doom a man to eternal poverty and obscurity.—
[E. R. 1809.]
LITERARY PROLIXITY..—There is an event
recorded in the Bible, which men who write
books should keep constantly in their remem-
brance. It is there set forth, that many cen-
turies ago the earth was covered with a great


98 $goney, 5mitb's
flood, by which the whole of the human race,
with the exception of one family, was destroyed.
It appears, also, that from thence, a great alter-
ation was made in the longevity of mankind,
who, from a range of seven or eight hundred
years, which they enjoyed before the flood,
were confined to their present period of seventy
or eighty years. This epoch in the history of
man gave birth to the twofold division of the
antediluvian and the postdiluvian style of writ-
ing, the latter of which naturally contracted it-
self into those inferior limits which were better
accommodated to the abridged duration of hu-
man life and literary 1abor. Now, to forget this
event, to write without the fear of the deluge
before his eyes, and to handle a subject as if
mankind could lounge over a pamphlet for ten
years, as before their submersion,--is to be
guilty of the most grievous error into which a
writer can possibly fall. The author of this
book should call in the aid of some brilliant
pencil, and cause the distressing scenes of the
deluge to be portrayed in the most lively colors
for his use. He should gaze at Noah, and be
brief. The ark should constantly remind him
of the little time there is left for reading; and
he should learn, as they did in the ark, to crowd
a great deal of matter into a very little compass.
—[E. R. 1809.]


Tūlīt amo (Uligoom 99
BREVITY AND CHARITY.-Brevity is in writing
what charity is to all other virtues. Righteous-
ness is worth nothing without the one, nor
authorship without the other.—[E. R. 1809.]
SELF-APPLAUSE.-Some persons can neither
stir hand nor foot without making it clear they
are thinking of themselves, and laying little
traps for approbation.—[E. R. 1809.]
THE BROAD A.—Who, oh gracious Heaven
who are a Burgess, La Tomlin, a Bennet, a
Cyril Jackson, a Martin Routh 2–a Tom, -
a Jack,-a Harry, La Peter?—All good men
enough in their generation doubtless they are.
But what have they done for the broad a 2
Surely, scholars and gentlemen can drink tea
with each other, and eat bread and butter,
without all this laudatory cackling.—[E. R.
1809.]
CAPITAL PUNISHMENT.-We are scarcely,
however, converts to that system which would
totally abolish the punishment of death. That
it is much too frequently inflicted in this
country, we readily admit; but we suspect it
will be always necessary to reserve it for the
most pernicious crimes. Death is the most
terrible punishment to the common people,


TUlit amo (Uligoom IOI
and of what avail would it be to repeat such
phrases to the people 2 Again, what laws are
to be repeated, and in what places? Is a law
respecting the number of threads on the shuttle
of a Spitalfields weaver to be read to the corn-
growers of the Isle of Thanet 2 If not, who is
to make the selection ? If the law cannot be
comprehended by listening to the vivá voce
repetition, is the reader to explain it, and are
there to be law lectures all over the kingdom P
The fact is that the evil does not exist.—[E. R.
1809.]
PopULAR KNowLEDGE OF LAws.-The peo-
ple, it is true, are ignorant of the laws; but
they are ignorant only of the laws which do
not concern them. A poacher knows nothing
of the penalties to which he exposes himself by
stealing ten thousand pounds from the public.
Commissioners of public boards are unac-
quainted with all the decretals of our ancestors
respecting the wiring of hares; but the one
pockets his extra percentage, and the other
his leveret, with a perfect knowledge of the
laws—the particular laws which it is his busi-
ness to elude.—[E. R. 1809.]
1648 AND 1793.−Our regicides were serious
and original at least, in the bold, bad deeds


IO2 $goney, 5mitb'g
which they committed. The regicides of
France were poor theatrical imitators, intoxi-
cated with blood and with power, and incapable
even of forming a sober estimate of the guilt
or the consequences of their actions.—[E. R.
1809.]
CAREER OF MR. Fox. —The whole of Mr.
Fox’s life was spent in opposing the profligacy
and exposing the ignorance of his own court.
In the first half of his political career, while
Lord North was losing America, and in the
latter half, while Mr. Pitt was ruining Europe,
the creatures of the Government were eternally
exposed to the attacks of this discerning, daunt-
less, and most powerful speaker. Folly and
corruption never had a more terrible enemy in
the English House of Commons—one whom it
was so impossible to bribe, so hopeless to elude,
and so difficult to answer.—[E. R. 1811.]
OFFICIAL AccuRACY. —The term official accu-
racy has of late days become one of very am-
biguous import. Mr. Rose, we can see, would
imply by it the highest possible accuracy—as
we see office pens advertised in the window of a
shop, by way of excellence. The public reports
of those, however, who have been appointed to
look into the manner in which public offices are


TCUlit amo (Uligoom Io:3
conducted, by no means justify the usage of the
term ;-and we are not without apprehensions,
that Dutch politeness, Carthaginian faith, Boeo-
tian genius, and official accuracy, may be terms
equally current in the world; and that Mr.
Rose may, without intending it, have contrib-
uted to make this valuable addition to the mass
of our ironical phraseology.—[E. R. 1811.]
DURATION OF ERROR.—A hundred years, to
be sure, is a very little time for the duration of
a national error; and it is so far from being
reasonable to look for its decay at so short a
date, that it can hardly be expected, within
such limits, to have displayed the full bloom of
its imbecility.—[E. R. 1809.]
PURSUIT OF KNowLEDGE.-Nothing will do
in the pursuit of knowledge but the blackest
ingratitude;—the moment we have got up the
ladder, we must kick it down ;-as soon as we
have passed over the bridge, we must 1et it rot;
—when we have got upon the shoulders of the
ancients, we must look over their heads. The
man who forgets the friends of his childhood in
real life is base; but he who clings to the props
of his childhood in literature, must be content
to remain ignorant as he was when a child.-
[E. R. 1809.]


IO4 5pomeg $mitb's
VALUE OF CLASSICAL LEARNING.--To almost
every Englishman up to the age of three or
four and twenty, classical learning has been the
great object of existence: and no man is very
apt to suspect, or very much pleased to hear,
that what he has done for so long a time was
not worth doing.—[E. R. 1809.]
BEAUTY OF CLASSICAL LANGUAGE.-The two
ancient languages are as mere inventions—as
pieces of mechanism incomparably more beau-
tiful than any of the modern languages of Eu-
rope; their mode of signifying time and case,
by terminations, instead of auxiliary verbs and
particles, would of itself stamp their superior-
ity. Add to this, the copiousness of the Greek
language, with the fancy, majesty, and harmony
of its compounds; and there are quite sufficient
reasons why the classics should be studied for
the beauties of language. Compared to them,
merely as vehicles of thought and passion, all
modern languages are dull, ill contrived, and
barbarous.-[E. R. 1809.]
THE CLASSICAL AUTHORS.—Whatever our
conjectures may be, we cannot be sure that the
best modern writers can afford us as good mod-
els as the ancients;–we cannot be certain that
they will live through the revolutions of the


TUlit amo (Oligoom IO5
world, and continue to please in every climate
—under every species of government—through
every stage of civilization. We may still bor-
row descriptive power from Tacitus ; dignified
perspicuity from Livy ; simplicity from Caesar;
and from Homer some portion of that light and
heat which, dispersed into ten thousand chan-
nels, has filled the world with bright images
and illustrious thoughts. Let the cultivator of
modern literature addict himself to the purest
models of taste which France, Italy, and Eng-
land could supply, he might still learn from
Virgil to be majestic, and from Tibullus to be
tender; he might not yet look upon the face
of nature as Theocritus saw it; nor might he
reach those springs of pathos with which Eurip-
ides softened the hearts of his audience.—[E.
R. 1809.]
CLASSICAL PEDANTRY.-A learned man —a
scholar !—a man of erudition | Upon whom are
these epithets of approbation bestowed 2 Are
they given to men acquainted with the science
of government? thoroughly masters of the geo-
graphical and commercial relations of Europe?
to men who know the properties of bodies, and
their action upon each other ? No: this is not
learning; it is chemistry, or political economy
—not learning. The distinguishing abstract
|
*


IO6 $vomey 5mitb’s
term, the epithet of Scholar, is reserved to him
who writes on the AEolic reduplication, and is
familiar with the Sylburgian method of arrang-
ing defectives in 69 and ut. The picture which
a young Englishman, addicted to the pursuit
of knowledge, draws—his beau idéal, of human
nature—his top and consummation of man’s
powers—is a knowledge of the Greek language.
His object is not to reason, to imagine, or to
invent; but to conjugate, decline, and derive.
The situations of imaginary glory which he
draws for himself, are the detection of an ana-
paest in the wrong place, or the restoration of a
dative case which Cranzius had passed over,
and the never-dying Ernesti failed to observe.
—[E. R. 1809.]
LATIN VERSEs.-There are few boys who re-
main to the age of eighteen or nineteen at a
public school without making above ten thou-
sand Latin verses –a greater number than is
contained in the A2 neid: and after he has made
this quantity of verses in a dead language, un-
less the poet should happen to be a very weak
man indeed, he never makes another as long as
he lives.—[E. R. 1809.]
VERSIFICATION NO TEST OF CAPACITY.—The
prodigious honor in which Latin verses are held


TClit and (Uligoom Io?
at public schools is surely the most absurd of
all absurd distinctions. You rest all reputation
upon doing that which is a natural gift, and
which no labor can attain. If a lad wont learn
the words of a language, his degradation in the
school is a very natural punishment for his dis-
obedience, or his indolence; but it would be as
reasonable to expect that all boys should be
witty, or beautiful, as that they should be poets.
In either case, it would be to make an acciden-
tal, unattainable, and not a very important gift
of nature, the only, or the principal, test of merit.
This is the reason why boys, who make a con-
siderable figure at school, so very often make
no figure in the world;—and why other lads,
who are passed over without notice, turn out to
be valuable, important men. The test estab-
lished in the world is widely different from that
established in a place which is presumed to be a
preparation for the world ; and the head of a
public school, who is a perfect miracle to his
contemporaries, finds himself shrink into abso-
lute insignificance, because he has nothing else
to command respect or regard, but a talent for
fugitive poetry in a dead language.—[E. R.
1829. J-T--
ExcLUSIVE CULTURE of LANGUAGES.—The
passion for languages is just as strong as any


IoS $goney, 5mitb's
other literary passion. There are very good
Persian and Arabic scholars in this country.
Large heaps of trash have been dug up from
Sanscrit ruins. We have seen, in our own
times, a clergyman of the University of Oxford
complimenting their Majesties in Coptic and
Syrophoenician verses; and yet we doubt
whether there will be a sufficient avidity in
literary men to get at the beauties of the finest
writers which the world has yet seen ; and
though the Bagzat Gheeta has (as can be
proved) met with human beings to translate,
and other human beings to read it, we think
that, in order to secure an attention to Homer
and Virgil, we must catch up every man—
whether he is to be a clergyman or a duke,
begin with him at six years of age, and never
quit him till he is twenty; making him conju-
gate and decline for life and death; and so
teaching him to estimate his progress in real
wisdom as he can scan the verses of the Greek
tragedians.—[E. R. 1809.]
NARROWNESS OF ENGLISH EDUCATION.—
The English clergy, in whose hands education
entirely rests, bring up the first young men of
the country as if they were all to keep gram-
mar schools in little country towns.—[E. R.
1809.]


"Ulit amo Uligoom 109
WASTE of TALENT.—At present, we act
with the minds of our young men, as the
Dutch did with their exuberant spices. An in-
finite quantity of talent is annually destroyed
in the Universities of England by the miserable
jealousy and littleness of ecclesiastical instruc-
tors.-[E. R. 1809.]
MISTAKEN OBJECTs of PURsult.—There is
a delusive sort of splendor in a vast body of
men pursuing one object, and thoroughly ob-
taining it; and yet, though it be very splendid,
it is far from being useful.—[E. R. 1809.]
TRUE EDUCATION FOR CIVII, LIFE.--When
an University has been doing useless things for
a long time, it appears at first degrading for
them to be useful. If we had to do with a young
man going out into public life, we would ex-
hort him to contemn, or at least not to affect the
reputation of a great scholar, but to educate
himself for the offices of civil life. He should
learn what the constitution of his country really
was, -how it had grown into its present state,
the perils that had threatened it, the malig-
nity that had attacked it, the courage that had
fought for it, and the wisdom that had made it
great. We would bring strongly before his
mind the characters of those Englishmen who


1 IO 5goney, 5mitb's
have been the steady friends of the public
happiness; and, by their examples, would
breathe into him a pure public taste, which
should keep him untainted in all the vicissi-
tudes of political fortune.—[E. R. 1809.]
DIscover Y. —That man is not the discoverer
of any art who first says the thing; but he who
says it so long, and so loud, and so clearly, that
he compels mankind to hear him—the man
who is so deeply impressed with the importance
of the discovery that he will take no denial,
but, at the risk of fortune, and fame, pushes
through all opposition, and is determined that
what he thinks he has discovered shall not per-
ish for want of a fair trial. Other persons had
noticed the effect of coal gas in producing light;
but Winsor worried the town with bad English
for three winters before he could attract any
serious attention to his views. Many persons
broke stones before Macadam, but Macadam
felt the discovery more strongly, stated it more
clearly, persevered in it with greater tenacity,
wielded his hammer, in short, with greater force
than other men, and finally succeeded in bring-
ing his plan into general use.—[E. R. 1826.]
ENGLISH PERSEVERANCE.-If the English
were in a paradise of spontaneous productions,


(Ulit ano Úligoom III
they would continue to dig and plough, though
they were never a peach nor a pine-apple the
better for it.—[E. R. 1826.]
THE ELDER GENERATION.—It is by no
means an uncommon wish of the mouldering
and decaying part of mankind, that the next
generation should not enjoy any advantages
from which they themselves have been pre-
cluded. “Ay, ay, it 's all mighty well—but I
went through this myself, and I am deter-
mined my children shall do the same.” We are
convinced that a great deal of opposition to
improvement proceeds from this principle.
Crabbe might make a good picture of an unbe-
nevolent old man, slowly retiring from this
sublunary scene, and lamenting that the coming
race of men would be less bumped on the roads,
better lighted in the streets, and less tormented
with grammars and lexicons, than in the preced-
ing age. A great deal of compliment to the wis-
dom of ancestors, and a great degree of alarm
at the dreadful spirit of innovation, are soluble
into mere jealousy and envy.—[E. R. 1826.]
DIFFICULTIES TO OVERCOME.-Never be
afraid of wanting difficulties for your pupil;
if means are rendered more easy, more will be
expected.—[E. R. 1826.]


1 12 $goney, 5mitb's
DEAD AND LIVING LANGUAGES.—The real
way of learning a dead language, is to imitate,
as much as possible, the method in which a
1iving language is naturally learnt.—[E. R.
1826.]
LATIN AND GREEK.—If there be any thing
which fills reflecting men with melancholy and
regret, it is the waste of mortal time, parental
money, and puerile happiness, in the present
method of pursuing Latin and Greek.-[E. R.
1826.]
Boys AND GIRLS.—As long as boys and girls
run about in the dirt, and trundle hoops
together, they are both precisely alike. If
you catch up one half of these creatures, and
train them to a particular set of actions and
opinions, and the other half to a perfectly op-
posite set, of course their understandings will
differ, as one or the other sort of occupations
has called this or that talent into action. There
is surely no occasion to go into any deeper or
more abstruse reasoning, in order to explain
so very simple a phenomenon.—[E. R. 18/o.]
EDUCATION OF WOMEN.—As the matter now
stands, the time of women is considered as
worth nothing at all. Daughters are kept to
2-
---


(Ulit amo Uligoom 113
occupations in sewing, patching, mantua-mak-
ing, and mending, by which it is impossible
they can earn tenpence a day. They are kept
with nimble fingers and vacant understandings,
till the season for improvement is utterly passed
away, and all chance of forming more important
habits completely lost.—[E. R. 18/o.]
EDUCATION OF COUNTRY GENTLEMEN.—A
century ago, who would have believed that
country gentlemen could be brought to read
and spell with the ease and accuracy which we
now so frequently remark,+or supposed that
they could be carried up even to the elements
of ancient and modern history 2–[AE. R. 1810.]
AFFECTATION.—All affectation and display
proceed from the supposition of possessing
something better than the rest of the world pos-
sesses. Nobody is vain of possessing two legs
and two arms;–because that is the precise
quantity of either sort of limb which everybody
possesses.—[E. R. 1810.]
PEDANTRY.-As pedantry is an ostentatious
obtrusion of knowledge, in which those who
hear us cannot sympathize, it is a fault of which
soldiers, sailors, sportsmen, gamesters, cultiva-
tors, and all men engaged in a particular occu-


II.4 $goney, 5mitb’s
pation, are quite as guilty as scholars; but they
have the good fortune to have the vice only of
pedantry;-while scholars have both the vice
and the name for it too.—[E. R. 1810.]
KNOWLEDGE CURES CONCEIT. —Diffuse
knowledge generally among women, and you
will at once cure the conceit which knowledge
occasions while it is rare.—[E. R. 1810.]
ENLARGE WOMAN's EDUCATION.—Why are
we necessarily to doom a girl, whatever be her
taste or her capacity, to one unvaried line of
petty and frivolous occupation ? If she be full of
strong sense and elevated curiosity, can there
be any reason why she should be diluted and
enfeebled down to a mere culler of simples, and
fancier of birds?—why books of history and
reasoning are to be torn out of her hand, and
why she is to be sent, 1íke a butterfly, to hover
over the idle flowers of the field 2–ſ E. R.
1810].
FEAR OF EDUCATING WOMEN.—There is a
very general notion, that if you once suffer
women to eat of the tree of knowledge, the rest
of the family will very soon be reduced to the
same kind of aerial and unsatisfactory diet.—
[E. R. 1810.]
~


TJUlit amo (Uligoom II5
SIMPLE PLEASUREs SMALL.-If by a simple
pleasure is meant one, the cause of which can be
easily analyzed, or which does not last long, or
which in itself is very faint; then simple pleas-
ures seem to be very nearly synonymous with
small pleasures; and if the simplicity were to
be a little increased, the pleasure would vanish
altogether.—[E. R. 1810.]
RESPECT PAID TO EDUCATED WOMEN.—
Among men of sense and liberal politeness, a
woman who has successfully cultivated her
mind, without diminishing the gentleness and
propriety of her manners, is always sure to meet
with a respect and attention bordering upon
enthusiasm.—[E. R. Z8/o.]
SOLITARINESS OF WOMEN.—Let any man re-
flect upon the solitary situation in which women
are placed,—the ill-treatment to which they are
sometimes exposed, and which they must en-
dure in silence, and without the power of com-
plaining, and he must feel convinced that the
happiness of a woman will be materially in-
creased in proportion as education has given to
her the habit and the means of drawing her re-
sources from herself.-LE. R. 1810.]
OccupATION OF WOMEN.—Nothing, certain-


II6 5poneg 5mitb's
ly, is so ornamental and delightful in women as
the benevolent affections; but time cannot be
filled up, and life employed, with high and im-
passioned virtues. We know women are to be
compassionate; but they cannot be compas-
sionate from eight o'clock in the morning till
twelve at night:—and what are they to do in
the interval 2–LE. R. 1810.]
DEGRADATION OF UNEDUCATED WOMEN.—
If you neglect to educate the mind of a woman,
by the speculative difficulties which occur in
literature, it can never be educated at all; if
you do not effectually rouse it by education, it
must remain for ever languid. Uneducated men
may escape intellectual degradation; unedu-
cated women cannot.—[E. R. 1810.]
THE DECAY OF WOMAN's LIFE.—Men rise
in character often as they increase in years;–
they are venerable from what they have acquir-
ed, and pleasing from what they can impart ;
but women (such is their unfortunate style of
education) hazard every thing upon one cast of
the die;—when youth is gone all is gone. Every
human being must put up with the coldest civil-
ity, who has neither the charms of youth nor the
wisdom of age. Neither is there the slightest com-
miseration for decayed accomplishments –no
º
s
º
s
&


TUlit amo (Uligoom 117
man mourns over the fragments of a dancer, or
drops a tear on the relics of musical skill. They
are flowers destined to perish; but the decay of
great talents is always the subject of solemn
pity; and, even when their last memorial is
over, their ruins and vestiges are regarded with
pious affection.—[E. R. 1810.]
Accom PLISHMENTS.-Accomplishments are
merely means for displaying the grace and
vivacity of youth, which every woman gives up,
as she gives up the dress and the manners of
eighteen : she has no wish to retain them ; or,
if she has, she is driven out of them by diame-
ter and derision. The error is, to make such
things the grand and universal object ; –to
insist upon it that every woman is to sing,
and draw, and dance,—with nature or against
nature, to bind her apprentice to some accom-
plishment, and if she cannot succeed in oil or
water colors, to prefer gilding, varnishing, bur-
nishing, box-making, to real and solid improve-
ment in taste, knowledge, and understanding.
—[E. R. 1810.]
THE RESOURCES of LIFE.-The object is, to
give to children resources that will endure as
long as life endures—habits that time will ame-
liorate, not destroy, occupations that will ren-


II.8 $goney, 5mitb'3
der sickness tolerable, solitude pleasant, age
venerable, life more dignified and useful, and
therefore death less terrible.—[E. R. 1810.]
MENTAL CULTURE.—A woman of accomplish-
ments may entertain those who have the pleas-
ure of knowing her for half an hour with great
brilliancy; but a mind full of ideas, and with
that elastic spring which the love of knowledge
only can convey, is a perpetual source of exhil-
aration and amusement to all that come within
its reach;-not collecting its force into single
and insulated achievements, like the efforts
made in the fine arts—but diffusing, equally
over the whole of existence, a calm pleasure—
better loved as it is longer felt—and suitable to
every variety and every period of life.—[E. R.
1810.]
CHARM of EDUCATION.—Education gives fe-
cundity of thought, copiousness of illustration,
quickness, vigor, fancy, words, images, and il-
lustrations;—it decorates every common thing,
and gives the power of trifling without being
undignified and absurd.—[E. R. 1810.]
COUNTER ACTION.—The true way to attack
vice, is by setting up something else against it.
—[E. R. 1810.]


TCUlit amo (Oligoom 119
NATURAL LOVE OF GOOD.—Trust to the nat-
ural love of good where there is no temptation
to be bad—it operates nowhere more forcibly
than in education.—[E. R. 1810.]
A NATION's BEST GIFT.-The most beautiful
possession which a country can have is a noble
and rich man, who loves virtue and knowledge;
—who without being feeble or fanatical is pious
—and who without being factious is firm and
independent;-who, in his political life, is an
equitable mediator between king and people;
and in his civil life, a firm promoter of all
which can shed a lustre upon his country, or
promote the peace and order of the world.—[E.
R. 1810.] - -
GENTLENESS IN EDUCATION.—Those young
people will turn out to be the best men, who
have been guarded most effectually, in their
childhood, from every species of useless vexa-
tion ; and experienced, in the greatest degree,
the blessings of a wise and rational indulgence.
—[E. R. 1810.]
HEAD BOYS.—The head of a public school is
generally a very conceited young man, utterly
ignorant of his own dimensions, and losing all
that habit of conciliation towards others, and


I2O $goney 5mitb'g
that anxiety for self-improvement, which result
from the natural modesty of youth. Nor is this
conceit very easily and speedily gotten rid of;-
we have seen (if we mistake not) public-school
importance lasting through the half of after-life,
strutting in lawn, swelling in ermine, and dis-
playing itself, both ridiculously and offensively,
in the haunts and business of bearded men.—
[E. R. 1810.]
NATURAL, GROWTH AND DECAY.—In a forest,
or public school for oaks and elms, the trees are
left to themselves; the strong plants live, and
the weak ones die: the towering oak that re-
mains is admired; the saplings that perish
around it are cast into the flames and forgotten.
—[E. R. 1810.]
School, AND HOME.-That education seems
to us to be the best which mingles a domestic
with a school life, and which gives to a youth
the advantage which is to be derived from the
learning of a master, and the emulation which
results from the society of other boys, together
with the affectionate vigilance which he must
experience in the house of his parents.-[E. R.
1810.]
WAR.—If three men were to have their legs
º,


TCUlit and Uligoom I2I
and arms broken, and were to remain all night
exposed to the inclemency of weather, the
whole country would be in a state of the most
dreadful agitation. Look at the wholesale death
of a field of battle, ten acres covered with dead,
and half dead, and dying; and the shrieks and
agonies of many thousand human beings.
There is more of misery inflicted upon mankind
by one year of war, than by all the civil pecula-
lations and oppressions in a century. Yet it is
a state into which the mass of mankind rush
with the greatest avidity, hailing official mur-
derers, in scarlet, gold, and cock's feathers, as
the greatest and most glorious of human crea-
tures. It is the business of every wise and good
man to set himself against this passion for mili-
tary glory, which really seems to be the most
fruitful source of human misery.—[E. R. 1813.]
FREQUENCY OF WARS.–Alas! we have been
at war thirty-five minutes out of every hour
since the peace of Utrecht.—[E. R. 1827.]
QUAKERS’ CHARITY. —Quakers, it must be
allowed, are a very charitable and humane peo-
ple. They are always ready with their money,
and, what is of far more importance, with their
time and attention for every variety of human
misfortune.—[E. R. 1814.]


TCUlit allo (Uligoom I23
great metropolis, are qualified to quit it. Few
have the plain sense to perceive, that they must
soon inevitably be forgotten, or the fortitude
to bear it when they are.—[E. R. 1818.]
OBLIVION IN LONDON.—In London, as in
Law, de non apparentibus, et non existentibus,
eadem est ratio.—[E. R. 1818.]
JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU. — Jean Jacques
Rousseau seems, as the reward of genius and
fine writing, to have claimed an exemption
from all moral duties. He borrowed and
begged and never paid :—put his children in a
poorhouse—betrayed his friends—insulted his
benefactors—and was guilty of every species of
meanness and mischief. His vanity was so great,
that it was almost impossible to keep pace with
it by any activity of attention ; and his suspicion
of all mankind amounted nearly, if not alto-
gether, to insanity.—[E. R. 1818.]
FASHIONABLE PHYSIcIANs.-There is always
some man, of whom the human viscera stand in
greater dread than of any other person, who is
supposed, for the time being, to be the only
person who can dart his pill into their inmost
recesses; and bind them over, in medical
recognizance, to assimilate and digest. In the


I24 $poney, 5mitb's
Trojan war, Podalirius and Machaon were what
Dr. Baillie and Sir Henry Halford now are—
they had the fashionable practice of the Greek
camp; and, in all probability, received many a
guinea from Agamemnon dear to Jove, and
Nestor the tamer of horses.—[E. R. 1818.]
RAILwAY TRAVELLING.-Railroad travelling
is a delightful improvement of human life.
Man is become a bird; he can fly longer and
quicker than a solan goose. The mamma rushes
sixty miles in two hours to the aching finger of
her conjugating and declining grammar boy.
The early Scotchman scratches himself in the
morning mists of the North, and has his por-
ridge in Piccadilly before the setting sun. The
Puseyite priest, after a rush of Ioo miles,
appears with his little volume of nonsense at the
breakfast of his bookseller. Every thing is
near, every thing is immediate—time, distance,
and delay are abolished. But, though charming
and fascinating as all this is, we must not shut
our eyes to the price we shall pay for it. There
will be every three or four years some dreadful
massacre—whole trains will be hurled down a
precipice, and 200 or 300 persons will be killed
on the spot. There will be every now and then
a great combustion of human bodies, as there
has been at Paris; then all the newspapers up in


TUlit amo (Oligooml 125
arms—a thousand regulations, forgotten as soon
as the directors dare—loud screams of the
velocity whistle—monopoly locks and bolts, as
before.—[Letter on Railways.]
RAILwAY ACCIDENTS.—We have been, up to
this point, very careless of our railway regula-
tions. The first person of rank who is killed
will put every thing in order, and produce a
code of the most careful rules. I hope it will
not be one of the bench of bishops; but should
it be so destined, let the burnt bishop—the
unwilling Latimer—remember that, however
painful gradual concoction by fire may be, his
death will produce unspeakable benefit to the
public. Even Sodor and Man will be better
than nothing. From that moment the bad
effects of the monopoly are destroyed; no more
fatal deference to the directors; no despotic in-
carceration ; no barbarous inattention to the
anatomy and physiology of the human body; no
commitment to locomotive prisons with warrant.
We shall then find it possible
“Voyager libre sans mourir.”
[Letter on A'ailways.]
FRANCIs HoRNER.—There was something
very remarkable in his countenance—the com-


126 $yoney, 5mitb's
mandments were written on his face, and I have
often told him there was not a crime he might
not commit with impunity, as no judge or jury
who saw him would give the smallest degree of
credit to any evidence against him : there was
in his look a calm settled love of all that was
honorable and good—an air of wisdom and of
sweetness; you saw at once that he was a great
man, whom nature had intended for a leader of
human beings; you ranged yourself willingly
under his banners and cheerfully submitted to
his sway.
The character of his understanding was the
exercise of vigorous reasoning, in pursuit of im-
portant and difficult truth. He had no wit; nor
did he condescend to that inferior variety of
this electric talent which prevails occasionally
in the North, and which, under the name of
Wut, is so infinitely distressing to persons of
good taste.—[Letter to L. Horner.]
GOOD TASTE OF THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.—
The House of Commons, as a near relation of
mine once observed, has more good taste than
any man in it.—[Letter to L. Horner.]
SIR JAMES MAcKINTosh.-Curran, the Mas-
ter of the Rolls, said to Grattan, “You would
be the greatest man of your age, Grattan, if


TCUlit amo (Oligoom 127
you would buy a few yards of red tape, and tie
up your bills and papers.” This was the fault or
the misfortune of Sir James Mackintosh; he
never knew the use of red tape, and was utterly
unfit for the common business of life. That a
guinea represented a quantity of shillings, and
that it would barter for a quantity of cloth, he
was well aware; but the accurate number of
the baser coin, or the just measurement of the
manufactured article, to which he was entitled
for his gold, he could never learn, and it was
impossible to teach him. Hence his life was
often an example of the ancient and melan-
choly struggle of genius with the difficulties
of existence.—[Letter to Mr. Mackintosh.]
DESTRUCTION OF LETTERS.—You ask for
some of your late father's letters; I am sorry
to say I have none to send you. Upon princi-
ple, I keep no letters except those on business.
I have not a single letter from him, nor from
any human being, in my possession.—[Letter
fo R. Mackintosh.] -
MR. CANNING's PARASITES. — Nature de-
scends down to infinite smallness. Mr. Can-
ning has his parasites; and if you take a large
buzzing blue-bottle fly, and look at it in a micro-
scope, you may see twenty or thirty little ugly


$goney, 5mitb's
Ats crawling about it, which doubtless think
fly to be the bluest, grandest, merriest,
t important animal in the universe, and are
convinced that the world would be at an end if
it ceased to buzz.-[P. P. Letters.]
LIBERTY To DRINK.—There has been in all
governments a great deal of absurd canting
about the consumption of spirits. We believe
the best plan is to let people drink what they
like, and wear what they like ; to make no
sumptuary laws either for the belly or the back.
In the first place, laws against rum, and rum
and water, are made by men who can change a
wet coat for a dry one whenever they choose,
and who do not often work up to their knees
in mud and water; and, in the next place, if
this stimulus did all the mischief it is thought
to do by the wise men of claret, its cheapness
and plenty would rather lessen than increase
the avidity with which it is at present sought
for.—[E. R. 1819.]
SEPARATION OF SALARY AND DUTY.—The
customary separation of salary and duty is the
grand principle which appears to pervade all
human institutions, and to be the most invin-
cible of all human abuses. Not only are Church,
King, and State allured by this principle of


I 30 $goney, 5mitb's
as anybody can do; but what is a climbing boy
in a chimney to a full-grown suitor in the Mas-
ter's office —[E. R. 1819.]
FERAE NATURAE AND DOMESTIC POULTRY. —
It is impossible to make an uneducated man
understand in what manner a bird hatched, no-
body knows where—to-day living in my field,
to-morrow in yours—should be as strictly prop-
erty as the goose whose whole history can be
traced, in the most authentic and satisfactory
manner, from the egg to the spit.—[E. R.
1819.]
PUNISHMENT OF PoAcHERs.-It is expected
by some persons, that the severe operation of
spring-guns and man-traps will put an end to
the trade of a poacher. This has always been
predicated of every fresh operation of severity,
that it was to put an end to poaching. But if
this argument is good ſor one thing, it is good
for another. Let the first pickpocket who is
taken be hung alive by the ribs, and let him be
a fortnight in wasting to death. Let us seize a
little grammar boy, who is robbing orchards,
tie his arms and legs, throw over him a delicate
puff-paste, and bake him in a bun-pan in an
oven. If poaching can be extirpated by in-
tensity of punishment, why not all other


TUlit amo (UligöCn I31
crimes 2 If racks, and gibbets, and tenter-
hooks are the best method of bringing back the
golden age, why do we refrain from so easy a
receipt for abolishing every species of wicked-
ness? The best way of answering a bad argu-
ment is not to stop it, but to let it go on in its
course till it leaps over the boundaries of com-
mon sense.—[E. R. 1821.]
SALE OF GAME.-The plan now proposed is,
to undersell the poacher, which may be suc-
cessful or unsuccessful; but the threat is, if
you attempt this plan there will be no game—
and if there is no game, there will be no country
gentlemen. We deny every part of this enthy-
meme—the last proposition as well as the first.
We really cannot believe that all our rural
mansions would be deserted, although no game
was to be found in their neighborhood. Some
come into the country for health, some for
quiet, for agriculture, for economy, from at-
tachment to family estates, from love of retire-
ment, from the necessity of keeping up pro-
vincial interests, and from a vast variety of
causes. Partridges and pheasants, though they
form nine tenths of human motives, still leave
a small residue, which may classed under some
other head.—[E. R. 1823.]
SHOOTING, A Colonel of the Guards, the


I32 5goney, 5mitb'g
second son just entered at Oxford, three diners-
out from Piccadilly—Major Rock, Lord John,
Lord Charles, the Colonel of the regiment
quartered at the neighboring town, two Irish
Peers, and a German Baron ;-all of this honor-
able company proceed with fustian jackets,
dog-whistles, and chemical inventions to a sol-
emn destruction of pheasants. How is the
country benefited by their presence 2 or how
would earth, air, or sea be injured by their an-
nihilation ?—[E. R. 1823.]
PRIVILEGES OF SQUIRES.–We cannot at all
comprehend the policy of alluring the better
classes of society into the country by the temp-
tation of petty tyranny and injustice, or of
monopoly in sports. How absurd it would be
to offer to the higher orders the exclusive use
of peaches, nectarines, and apricots as the pre-
mium of rustication—to put vast quantities of
men into prison as apricot eaters, apricot buy-
ers, and apricot sellers—to appoint a regular
day for beginning to eat, and another for leav-
ing off—to have a lord of the manor for green
gages—and to rage with a penalty of five pounds
against the unqualified eater of the gage And
yet the privilege of shooting a set of wild poul-
try is stated to be the bonus for the residence
of country gentlemen.—[E. R. 1823.]


Tºlit ano (Oligoom I33
JUSTICE AMONG SQUIREs.-If gentlemen can-
not breathe fresh air without injustice, let them
putrefy in Cranborne Alley. Make just laws,
and let Squires live and die where they please.
—[E. A. 1823.]
GAME LAws.-The first object of a good gov-
ernment is not that rich men should have their
pleasures in perfection, but that all orders of
men should be good and happy; and if crowded
covies and chuckling cock-pheasants are only
to be procured by encouraging the common
people in vice, and leading them into cruel and
disproportionate punishment, it is the duty of
the government to restrain the cruelties which
the country members, in reward for their assid-
uous loyalty, have been allowed to introduce
into the game laws.-[E. R. 1823.]
MISGOVERNMENT OF IRELAND.—So great,
and so long has been the misgovernment of
Ireland, that we verily believe the empire would
be much stronger if every thing was open sea
between England and the Atlantic, and if skates
and cod-fish swam over the fair land of Ulster.
—[AE. R. 1820.]
CATHOLIC AND PROTESTANT MARRIAGES.–
The Catholics marry upon means which the


I34 $goney, 5mitb’s
Protestant considers as insufficient for mar-
riage. A few potatoes and a shed of turf are all
that Luther has left for the Romanist; and,
when the latter gets these he instantly begins
upon the great Irish manufacture of children.
But a Protestant belongs to the sect that eats
the fine flour, and leaves the bran to others;
he must have comforts, and he does not marry
till he gets them.—[E. R. 1820.]
PIG-STYES To PALACES.–A11 degrees of all
nations begin with living in pig-styes. The
king or the priest first gets out of them ; then
the noble, then the pauper, in proportion as
each class becomes more and more opulent.
Better tastes arise from better circumstances;
and the luxury of one period is the wretched-
ness and poverty of another.—[E. R. 1820.]
AN IRISH PLOUGHMAN.—The most ludicrous
of all human objects is an Irishman ploughing.
A gigantic figure—a seven-foot machine for
turning potatoes into human nature, wrapt up
in an immense great coat, and urging on two
starved ponies, with dreadful imprecations, and
uplifted shillala. The Irish crow discerns a
coming perquisite, and is not inattentive to the
proceedings of the steeds. The furrow which
is to be the depository of the future crop is not
_*-
*



TUlit amo (Uligoom I35
unlike, either in depth or regularity, to those
domestic furrows which the nails of the meek
and much-injured wife plough, in some family
quarrel, upon the cheeks of the deservedly pun-
ished husband. The weeds seem to fall con-
tentedly, knowing that they have fulfilled their
destiny, and left behind them, for the resurrec-
tion of the ensuing spring, an abundant and
healthy progeny. The whole is a scene of idle-
ness, laziness, and poverty, of which it is im-
possible, in this active and enterprising country,
to form the most distant conception.—[E. R.
1820.]
AN ENGLISH PLOUGHMAN.—A ploughman
marries a ploughwoman because she is plump;
generally uses her ill; thinks his children an
incumbrance; very often flogs them ; and, for
sentiment, has nothing more nearly approach-
ing to it than the ideas of broiled bacon and
mashed potatoes.—[E. R. 1806.]
THE IRISH CHARACTER.—The Irish charac-
ter contributes something to retard the improve-
ments of that country. The Irishman has many
good qualities: he is brave, witty, generous,
eloquent, hospitable, and open-hearted ; but he
is vain, ostentatious, extravagant, and fond of
display—light in counsel—deficient in perse-


136 $yoney, 5mitb'g
verance—without skill in private or public
economy—an enjoyer, not an acquirer—one
who despises the slow and patient virtues—who
wants the superstructure without the founda-
tion—the result without the previous operation
—the oak without the acorn and the three hun-
dred years of expectation. The Irish are iras-
cible, prone to debt, and to fight, and very
impatient of the restraints of law. Such a peo-
ple are not likely to keep their eyes steadily
upon the main chance, like the Scotch or the
Dutch. England strove very hard, at one
period, to compel the Scotch to pay a double
Church ;-but Sawney took his pen and ink,
and finding what a sum it amounted to, became
furious, and drew his sword. God forbid the
Irishman should do the same ! the remedy,
now, would be worse than the disease; but if
the oppressions of England had been more
steadily resisted a century ago, Ireland would
not have been the scene of poverty, misery, and
distress which it now is.-[E. R. 1820.]
GRATTAN. — Great men hallow a whole
people, and lift up all who live in their time.
What Irishman does not feel proud that he has
lived in the days of Grattan P who has not
turned to him for comfort, from the false
friends and open enemies of Ireland? who did


TCUlit amo (Uligoom 137
not remember him in the days of its burnings
and wastings and murders? No Government
ever dismayed him—the world could not bribe
him—he thought only of Ireland—lived for no
other object—dedicated to her his beautiful
fancy, his elegant wit, his manly courage, and
all the splendor of his astonishing eloquence.
He was so born, and so gifted, that poetry,
forensic skill, elegant literature, and all the
highest attainments of human genius, were
within his reach ; but he thought the noblest
occupation of a man was to make other men
happy and free; and in that straight line he
went on for fifty years, without one side-look,
without one yielding thought, without one mo-
tive in his heart which he might not have laid
open to the view of God and man. He is gone!—
but there is not a single day of his honest life of
which every good Irishman would not be more
proud, than of the whole political existence of
his countrymen, the annual deserters and be-
trayers of their native land. [E. R. 18/o.]
ENGLISH TYRANNY To IRELAND.—England
seems to have treated Ireland much in the same
way as Mrs. Brownrigg treated her apprentice
—for which Mrs. Brownrigg is hanged in the
first volume of the Newgate Calendar. Upon
the whole, we think the apprentice is better off


138 $goney, 5mitb's
than the Irishman : as Mrs. Brownrigg merely
starves and beats her, without any attempt to
prohibit her from going to any shop, or praying
at any church, her apprentice might select; and
once or twice, if we remember rightly, Brown-
rigg appears to have felt some compassion.
Not so Old England, who indulges rather in a
steady baseness, uniform brutality, and unre-
lenting oppression.—[E. R. 1824.]
IRISH PERSECUTIONS.—For some centuries
after the reign of Henry II. the Irish were
killed like game, by persons qualified or un-
qualified. Whether dogs were used does not
appear quite certain, though it is probable they
were, spaniels as well as pointers; and that,
after a regular point by Basto, well backed by
Ponto and Caesar, Mr. O'Donnel or Mr. O'Leary
bolted from the thicket, and were bagged by
the English sportsman.—[E. R. 1824.]
RELIcs.—England is almost the only country
in the world (even at present), where there is
not some favorite religious spot, where absurd
lies, little bits of cloth, feathers, rusty nails,
splinters, and other invaluable relics, are
treasured up, and in defence of which the
whole population are willing to turn out and
perish as one man.—[E. R. 1827.]


TUlit amo Uligoom I39
MAC's AND O’S.—There are not a few of the
best and most humane Englishmen of the pres-
ent day, who, when under the influence of fear
or anger, would think it no great crime to put
to death people whose names begin with O or
Mac. The violent death of Smith, Green, or
Thomson, would throw the neighborhood into
convulsions, and the regular forms would be
adhered to—but little would be really thought
of the death of anybody called O'Dogherty or
O'Toole.—[E. R. 1824.]
ROMAN CATHOLICISM IN ENGLAND. —The
idea of danger from the extension of the
Catholic religion in England I utterly deride.
The Catholic faith is a misfortune to the world,
but those whose faith it conscientiously is are
quite right in professing it boldly, and in pro-
moting it by all means which the law allows.
A physician does not say, “You will be well as
soon as the bile is got rid of ’’; but he says,
“You will not be well until after the bile is got
rid of.” He knows, after the cause of the malady
is removed, that morbid habits are to be changed,
weakness to be supported, organs to be called
back to their proper exercise, subordinate mal-
adies to be watched, secondary and vicarious
symptoms to be studied. The physician is a
wise man—but the anserous politician insists,


I40 $goney, 5mitb's
after 200 years of persecution, and ten of eman-
cipation, that Catholic Ireland should be as
quiet as Edmonton or Tooting.—[Preface to
Works.]
CATHOLIC EMANCIPATION.—If ever a nation
exhibited symptoms of downright madness, or
utter stupidity, we conceive these symptoms
may be easily recognized in the conduct of this
country upon the Catholic question. A man
has a wound in his great toe, and a violent and
perilous fever at the same time; and he refuses
to take the medicines for the fever, because it
will disconcert his toe 1 The mournful and
folly-stricken blockhead forgets that his toe
cannot survive him ;-that if he dies, there can
be no digital life apart from him : yet he lingers
and fondles over this last part of his body,
soothing it madly with little plasters, and anile
fomentations, while the neglected fever rages
in his entrails, and burns away his whole life.
—[E. R. 1807.]
SECTARIAN IRRITATION.—Give a government
only time, and, provided it has the good sense
to treat folly with forbearance, it must ulti-
mately prevail. When, therefore, a sect is
found, after a lapse of years, to be ill-disposed
to the Government, we may be certain that


T(lit ano Úligoom 141
Government has widened its separation by
marked distinctions, roused its resentment by
contumely, or supported its enthusiasm by per-
secution.—[E. R. 1807.]
ToI.ERATION.—Toleration never had a pres-
ent tense, nor taxation a future one. The
answer which Paul received from Felix, he
owed to the subject on which he spoke. When
justice and righteousness were his theme, Felix
told him to go away, and he would hear him
some other time. All men who have spoken to
courts upon such disagreeable topics, have
received the same answer. Felix, however,
trembled when he gave it; but his fear was ill-
directed. He trembled at the subject—he ought
to have trembled at the delay.—[E. R. 1808.]
PoliticAL INAcTION.—To lie by in timid
and indolent silence,—to suppose an inflexi-
bility, in which no court ever could, under
pressing circumstances, persevere, — and to
neglect a regular and vigorous appeal to public
opinion, is to give up all chance of doing good,
and to abandon the only instrument by which
the few are ever prevented from ruining the
many.—[E. R. 1808.]
HERESY.-What right has any Government


"Clit and Uligoom I43
selves ill, and to take a little physic.—[E. R.
1811.]
STRENGTH OF THE CHURCHESTABLISHMENT.
—I am heartily glad that all our disqualifying
laws for religious opinions are abolished, and I
see nothing in such measures but unmixed
good and real increase of strength to our Estab-
lishment.—[Preface to Works.]
EccLESIASTICAL BIGOTRY. —It is a melan-
choly thing to see a man, clothed in soft raiment,
lodged in a public palace, endowed with a rich
portion of the product of other men's industry,
using all the influence of his splendid situation,
however conscientiously, to deepen the igno-
rance, and inflame the fury, of his fellow
creatures. These are the miserable results of
that policy which has been so frequently
pursued for these fifty years past, of placing
men of mean, or middling abilities, in high
ecclesiastical stations. In ordinary times, it is
of less importance who fills them ; but when
the bitter period arrives, in which the people
must give up some of their darling absurdities;
—when the senseless clamor, which has been
carefully handed down from father fool to son
fool, can be no longer indulged ;-when it is of
incalculable importance to turn the people to a


Tºllit amo (Uligöom I45
change hands,-and the washer of the bottles
which they had emptied become the diocesan
of learned divines 2 What has prevented this
change, so beneficial to the upper domestic, but
the extreme improbability of success, if the
attempt were made ; an improbability so great,
that we will venture to say, the very notion of
it has scarcely once entered into the under-
standing of the good man. Why then is the
Reverend Prelate, who lives on so safely and
contentedly with John, so dreadfully alarmed at
the Catholics? And why does he so completely
forget, in their instance alone, that men do not
merely strive to obtain a thing because it is
good, but always mingle with the excellence of
the object a consideration of the chance of gain-
ing it?—[E. R. 1813.]
BRITISH EXTRAVAGANCE.-The world never
yet saw so extravagant a government as the
Government of England. Not only is economy
not practised—but it is despised ; and the idea
of it connected with disaffection, Jacobinism,
and Joseph Hume. Every rock in the ocean
where a cormorant can perch is occupied by our
troops—has a governor, deputy-governor, store-
keeper, and deputy storekeeper, and will soon
have an archdeacon and a bishop. Military
colleges, with thirty-four professors, educating


146 $goney, 5mitb'g
seventeen ensigns per annum, being half an
ensign for each professor, with every species of
nonsense, athletic, sartorial, and plumigerous.
A just and necessary war costs this country
about one hundred pounds a minute; whipcord
fifteen thousand pounds; red tape seven thou-
sand pounds; lace for drummers and fifers,
nineteen thousand pounds; a pension to one
man who has broken his head at the Pole; to
another who has shattered his leg at the
Equator; subsidies to Persia; secret service-
money to Thibet; an annuity to Lady Henry
Somebody and her seven daughters—the hus-
band being shot at some place where we never
ought to have had any soldiers at all ; and the
elder brother returning four members to Parlia-
ment. Such a scene of extravagance, corruption,
and expense as must paralyze the industry, and
mar the fortunes of the most industrious,
spirited people that ever existed.—[E. R. 1827.]
PROGRESS.—The follies of one century are
scarcely credible in that which succeeds it. A
grandmamma of 1827 is as wise as a very wise
man of 1727. If the world lasts till 1927 the
grandmammas of that period will be far wiser
than the tiptop No Popery men of this day.
That this childish nonsense will have got out
of the drawing-room there can be no doubt. It


TJUlit amo (Oligoom I47
will most probably have passed through the
steward's room and butler's pantry into the
kitchen. This is the case with ghosts. They
no longer loll on couches and sip tea; but are
down on their knees scrubbing with the scul-
lion—or stand sweating, and basting with the
cook. Mrs. Abigail turns up her nose at them,
and the housekeeper declares for flesh and
blood, and will have none of their company.—
[E. R. 1827.]
DISSENTING PREACHERS.—Any man may
dissent from the Church of England, and
preach against it by paying sixpence. Almost
every tradesman in a market-town is a preacher.
It must absolutely be ride-and-tie with them ;
the butcher must hear the baker in the morn-
ing, and the baker listen to the butcher in the
afternoon, or there would be no congregation.
We have often speculated upon the peculiar
trade of the preacher from his style of action.
Some have a tying-up or parcel-packing action ;
some strike strongly against the anvil of the
pulpit ; some screw, some bore, and some act as
if they were managing a needle. The occupa-
tion of the preceding week can seldom be mis-
taken.—[E. R. 1827.]
LIVE witH THE TIMEs.—What human plan,


148 5goney, 5mitb'g
device, or invention, 270 years old, does not
require reconsideration ? If a man dressed as
he dressed 270 years ago, the pug-dogs in the
streets would tear him to pieces. If he lived in
the houses of 270 years ago, unrevised and un-
corrected, he would die of rheumatism in a
week. If he listened to the sermons of 270
years ago, he would perish with sadness and
fatigue; and when a man cannot make a coat
or a cheese, for fifty years together, without
making them better, can it be said that laws
made in those days of ignorance, and framed in
the fury of religious hatred, need no revision, and
are capable of no amendment?—[E. R. 1827.]
CoRRESPONDENCE witH ROME.-Can my
Lord Bathurst be ignorant?—can any man, who
has the slightest knowledge of Ireland, be igno-
rant, that the portmanteau which sets out every
quarter for Rome, and returns from it, is a heap
of ecclesiastical matters, which have no more
to do with the safety of the country than they
have to do with the safety of the moon—and
which, but for the respect to individual feel-
ings, might all be published at Charing Cross 2
Mrs. Flanagan, intimidated by stomach com-
plaints, wants a dispensation for eating flesh.
Cornelius Oh Bowel has intermarried by acci-
dent with his grandmother; and, finding that


TÜlit amo (Uligoom I49
she is really his grandmother, his conscience is
uneasy. Mr. Mac Tooley, the priest, is discov-
ered to be married, and to have two sons, Castor
and Pollux Mac Tooley. Three or four schools-
full of little boys have been cursed for going to
hear a Methodist preacher. Bargains for shirts
and toe-nails of deceased saints—surplices and
trencher-caps blessed by the Pope. These are
the fruits of double allegiance—the objects of
our incredible fear, and the cause of our incred-
ible folly.—[E. R. 1827.]
No MonoPoly OF FREEDOM.–A good-na-
tured and well-conditioned person has pleasure
in keeping and distributing any thing that is
good. If he detects any thing with superior
flavor, he presses and invites, and is not easy
till others participate;—and so it is with politi-
cal and religious freedom. It is a pleasure to
possess it, and a pleasure to communicate it to
others. There is something shocking in the
greedy, growling, guzzling monopoly of such a
blessing.—[E. R. 1827.]
MARTYRDOM OF BIGors.-A bigot delights
in public ridicule, for he begins to think he is a
martyr.—[P. P. Letters.]
IMPUNITY OF THEOLOGICAL ERROR.—The


15o $goney, 5mitb'g
state has nothing whatever to do with theologi-
cal errors which do not violate the common
rules of morality, and militate against the fair
power of the ruler.—[P. P. Letters.]
PROGRESS OF ToI.ERATION.—Three hundred
years ago men burnt and hanged each other for
these opinions. Time has softened Catholic
as well as Protestant: they both required it;
though each perceives only his own improve-
ment, and is blind to that of the other.—[P. P.
Letters.]
A NAVAI, ACTION.—Here is a frigate attacked
by a corsair of immense strength and size,
rigging cut, masts in danger of coming by the
board, four foot water in the hold, men drop-
ping off very fast; in this dreadful situation
how do you think the Captain acts (whose name
shall be Perceval) P He calls all hands upon
deck; talks to them of king, country, glory,
sweethearts, gin, French prison, wooden shoes,
Old England, and hearts of oak ; they give
three cheers, rush to their guns, and, after a
tremendous conflict, succeed in beating off the
enemy. Not a syllable of all this; this is not
the manner in which the honorable Commander
goes to work; the first thing he does is to se-
cure twenty or thirty of his prime sailors who


I52 5goney, 5mitb's
the Neapolitan wits said) he had studied dan-
cing under St. Vitus, or whether David, dancing
in a linen vest, was his model, is not known ;
but Mr. Brown danced with such inconceivable
alacrity and vigor, that he threw the Queen of
Naples into convulsions of laughter, which ter-
minated in a miscarriage, and changed the
dynasty of the Neapolitan throne.—[P. P.
Letters.]
FINALITY. —I hear from some persons in Par-
liament, and from others in the sixpenny socie-
ties for debate, a great deal about unalterable
laws passed at the Revolution. When I hear
any man talk of an unalterable law, the only
effect it produces upon me is to convince me
that he is an unalterable fool.—[P. P. Letters.]
EPISCOPALIANISM IN SCOTLAND.—For what
a length of years was it attempted to compel
the Scotch to change their religion : horse,
foot, artillery, and armed Prebendaries, were
sent out after the Presbyterian parsons and
their congregations. The Percevals of those
days called for blood : this call is never made
in vain, and blood was shed : but to the aston-
ishment and horror of the Percevals of those
days, they could not introduce the Book of
Common Prayer, nor prevent that metaphysi-


TÜlit allo (Uligoom I53
cal people from going to heaven their true way,
instead of our true way. With a little oatmeal
for food, and a little sulphur for friction, allay-
ing cutaneous irritation with the one hand, and
holding his Calvanistical creed in the other,
Sawney ran away to his flinty hills, sung his
psalm out of tune his own way, and listened to
his sermon of two hours long, amid the rough
and imposing melancholy of the tallest thistles.
But Sawney brought up his unbreeched off-
spring in a cordial hatred of his oppressors;
and Scotland was as much a part of the weak-
ness of England then, as Ireland is at this mo-
ment. The true and the only remedy was ap-
plied ; the Scotch were suffered to worship God
after their own tiresome manner, without pain,
penalty, and privation. No lightning descended
from heaven ; the country was not ruined ; the
world is not yet come to an end ; the dignita-
ries, who foretold all these consequences, are
utterly forgotten, and Scotland has ever since
been an increasing source of strength to Great
Britain.—[P. P. Letters.]
INVASION.—You cannot imagine, you say,
that England will ever be ruined and con-
quered; and for no other reason that I can find,
but because it seems so very odd it should be
ruined and conquered. Alas! so reasoned, in


I54 $goney, 5mitb'g
their time, the Austrian, Russian, and Prussian
Plymleys. But the English are brave: so were
all these nations. You might get together a
hundred thousand men individually brave; but
without generals capable of commanding such
a machine, it would be as useless as a first-rate
man-of-war manned by Oxford clergymen, or
Parisian shopkeepers.-[P. P. Letters.]
EFFECTS OF INVASION.—As for the spirit of
peasantry in making a gallant defence behind
hedge-rows, and through plate-racks and hen-
coops, highly as I think of their bravery, I do
not know any nation in Europe so likely to be
struck with the panic as the English ; and this
from their total unacquaintance with the science
of war. Old wheat and beans blazing for twenty
miles round ; cart mares shot; sows of Lord
Somerville's breed running wild over the coun-
try; the minister of the parish wounded sorely in
his hinder parts; Mrs. Plymley in fits; all these
Scenes of war an Austrian or a Russian has seen
three or four times over ; but it is now three
centuries since an English pig has fallen in a
fair battle upon English ground, or a farm-house
been rifled, or a clergyman's wife been subjected
to any other proposals of love than the connu-
bial endearments of her sleek and orthodox
mate.—[P. P. Letters.]


TJUlit amo (Uligoom I55
BLocKADES.–If experience has taught us any
thing, it is the impossibility of perpetual block-
ades. The instances are innumerable, during
the course of this war, where whole fleets have
sailed in and out of harbor, in spite of every
vigilance used to prevent it. I shall only men-
tion those cases where Ireland is concerned. In
December, 1796, seven ships of the line, and ten
transports, reached Bantry Bay from Brest, with-
out having seen an English ship in their pas-
sage. It blew a storm when they were off shore,
and therefore England still continues to be an
independent kingdom. You will observe that
at the very time the French fleet sailed out of
Brest Harbor, Admiral Colpoys was cruising off
there with a powerful squadron, and still, from
the particular circumstances of the weather,
found it impossible to prevent the French from
coming out. During the time that Admiral Col-
poys was cruising off Brest, Admiral Richery,
with six ships of the line, passed him, and got
safe into the harbor. At the very moment when
the French squadron was lying in Bantry Bay,
Lord Bridport with his fleet was locked up by a
foul wind in the Channel, and for several days
could not stir to the assistance of Ireland. Ad-
miral Colpoys, totally unable to find the French
fleet, came home. Lord Bridport, at the change
of the wind, cruised for them in vain, and they


156 $goney, 5mitb'g
got safe back to Brest, without having seen a
single one of those floating bulwarks, the pos-
session of which we believe will enable us with
impunity to set justice and common sense at de-
fiance. Such is the miserable and precarious
state of an anemocracy, of a people who put
their trust in hurricanes and are governed by
wind.—[P. P. Letters.]
FREEDOM OF NEUTRAL TRADE.-It is one of
the utmost consequence to a commercial people
at war with the greatest part of Europe, that
there should be a free entry of neutrals into the
enemy's ports.-[P. P. Letters.]
THE TRUE DEFENCE.-At such a crisis you
want the affections of all your subjects, in both
islands: there is no spirit which you must alien-
ate, no art you must avert, every man must feel
he has a country, and that there is an urgent and
pressing cause why he should expose himself to
death.-[P. P. Letters.]
TREATMENT OF DISSENTERS.—When a coun-
try squire hears of an ape, his first feeling is to
give it nuts and apples; when he hears of a
Dissenter, his immediate impulse is to commit
it to the county jail, to shave its head, to alter
its customary food, and to have it privately
whipped.—[P. P. Letters.]


"Ulit amo (Uligoom 157
FAITH OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND.—The
purest religion in the world, in my humble
opinion, is the religion of the Church of Eng-
land; for its preservation (so far as it is exer-
cised without intruding upon the liberties of
others) I am ready at this moment to venture
my present life, and but through that religion I
have no hopes of any other; yet I am not forced
to be silly because I am pious ; nor will I ever
join in eulogiums on my faith, which every
man of common reading and common sense
can so easily refute.—[P. P. Letters.]
GROWTH OF CATHOLICISM.–As for the enor-
mous wax candles, and superstitious mummer-
ies, and painted jackets of the Catholic priests,
I fear them not. Tell me that the world will
return again under the influence of the small-
pox ; that Lord Castlereagh will hereafter op-
pose the power of the Court; that Lord Howick
and Mr. Grattan will do each of them a mean
and dishonorable action ; that anybody who
has heard Lord Redesdale speak once, will
knowingly and willingly hear him again ; that
Lord Eldon has assented to the fact of two and
two making four, without shedding tears, or
expressing the smallest doubt or scruple ;-tell
me any other thing absurd or incredible, but for
the love of common sense, let me hear no more


158 $goney, 5mitb's
of the danger to be apprehended from the gen-
eral diffusion of Popery. It is too absurd to be
reasoned upon ; every man feels it is nonsense
when he hears it stated, and so does every man
while he is stating it.—[P. P. Letters.]
RED-HAIRED MEN.—I have often thought,
that if the wisdom of our ancestors had ex-
cluded all persons with red hair from the
House of Commons, of the throes and con-
vulsions it would occasion to restore them to
their natural rights. What mobs and riots
would it produce To what infinite abuse
and obloquy would the capillary patriot be
exposed; what wormwood would distil from
Mr. Perceval, what froth would drop from Mr.
Canning ; how (I will not say my, but our Lord
Hawkesbury, for he belongs to us all)—how our
Lord Hawkesbury would work away about the
hair of King William and Lord Somers, and the
authors of the great and glorious Revolution;
how Lord Eldon would appeal to the Deity and
his own virtues, and to the hair of his children;
some would say that red-haired men were super-
stitious; some would prove that they were athe-
ists; they would be petitioned against as the
friends of slavery, and the advocates for revolt;
—in short, such a corrupter of the heart and un-
derstanding is the spirit of persecution, that


TUlit ano (Uligoom I59
these unfortunate people (conspired against by
their fellow-subjects of every complexion), if
they did not emigrate to countries where hair
of another color was persecuted, would be
driven to the falsehood of perukes, or the
hypocrisy of the Tricosian fluid. — [P. P.
Letters.]
GRADUAL EMANCIPATION (an apologue).-
There is a village (no matter where) in which
the inhabitants, on one day of the year, sit
down to a dinner prepared at the common ex-
pense; by an extraordinary piece of tyranny
(which Lord Hawkesbury would call the wis-
dom of the village ancestors), the inhabitants
of three of the streets, about a hundred years
ago, seized upon the inhabitants of the fourth
street, bound them hand and foot, laid them
upon their backs, and compelled them to look
on while the rest were stuffing themselves with
beef and beer; the next year the inhabitants of
the persecuted street (though they contributed
an equal quota of the expense) were treated pre-
cisely in the same manner. The tyranny grew
into a custom ; and (as the manner of our nature
is) it was considered as the most sacred of all
duties to keep these poor fellows without their
annual dinner; the village was so tenacious of
this practice, that nothing could induce them to


I6O $goney, $nitb’6
resign it; every enemy to it was looked upon as
a disbeliever in Divine Providence, and any ne-
farious churchwarden who wished to succeed in
his election had nothing to do but to represent
his antagonist as an abolitionist, in order to
frustrate his ambition, endanger his life, and
throw the village into a state of the most dread-
ful commotion. By degrees, however, the ob-
noxious street grew to be so well peopled, and
its inhabitants so firmly united, that their op-
pressors, more afraid of injustice, were more
disposed to be just. At the next dinner they
are unbound, the year after allowed to sit
upright, then a bit of bread and a glass of
water; till at last, after a long series of con-
cessions, they are emboldened to ask, in pretty
plain terms, that they may be allowed to sit
down at the bottom of the table and to fill their
bellies as well as the rest. Forthwith a general
cry of shame and scandal: “Ten years ago,
were you not laid upon your backs 2 Don’t you
remember what a great thing you thought it to
get a piece of bread 2 How thankful you were
for cheese-parings? Have you forgotten that
memorable aera, when the lord of the manor in-
terfered to obtain for you a slice of the public
pudding 2 And now, with an audacity only
equalled by your ingratitude, you have the
impudence to ask for knives and forks, and
S.


TUlit amo (UligöOnt 161
to request, in terms too plain to be mistaken,
that you may sit down to table with the rest,
and be indulged even with beef and beer; there
are not more than half-a-dozen dishes which we
have reserved for ourselves; the rest has been
thrown open to you in the utmost profusion;
you have potatoes, and carrots, suet dumplings,
sops in the pan, and delicious toast and water,
in incredible quantities. Beef, mutton, lamb,
pork, and veal are ours; and if you were not
the most restless and dissatisfied of human be-
ings, you would never think of aspiring to
enjoy them.—[P. P. Letters.]
INTOLERANCE AND EMANCIPATION.—Ireland
a millstone about your neck | Why is it not
a stone of Ajax in your hand?—[P. P. Letters.]
JUSTICE AND INJUSTICE.-The only true way
to make the mass of mankind see the beauty of
justice, is by showing to them in pretty plain
terms the consequences of injustice. —[P. P.
Letters.]
HISTORY OF CHANGE.-Lord Sidmouth, and
all the anti-Catholic people, little foresee that
they will hereafter be the sport of the antiquary ;
that their prophecies of ruin and destruction
from Catholic emancipation will be clapped


I62 $goney, 5mitb's
into the notes of some quaint history, and be
matter of pleasantry even to the sedulous house-
wife and the rural dean. There is always a
copious supply of Lord Sidmouths in the world;
nor is there one single source of human happi-
ness, against which they have not uttered the
most lugubrious predictions. Turnpike roads,
navigable canals, inoculation, hops, tobacco,
the Reformation, the Revolution—there are
always a set of worthy and moderately-gifted
men, who bawl out death and ruin upon every
valuable change which the varying aspect of
human affairs absolutely and imperiously re-
quires. I have often thought that it would be
extremely useful to make a collection of the
hatred and abuse that all those changes have
experienced, which are now admitted to be
marked improvements in our condition. Such
a history might make folly a little more modest,
and suspicious of its own decisions.—[P. P.
Letters.]
PARENTAL AMBITION.—Look at human na-
ture:—what is the history of all professions?
Joel is to be brought up to the bar: has Mrs.
Plymley the slightest doubt of his being Chan-
cellor P Do not his two shrivelled aunts live in
the certainty of seeing him in that situation,
and of cutting out with their own hands his


TJUlit amo (Uligoom I63
equity habiliments 2 And I could name a
certain minister of the Gospel who does not, in
the bottom of his heart, much differ from these
opinions. Do you not think that the fathers
and mothers of the holy Catholic Church are
not as absurd as Protestant papas and mammas?
The probability I admit to be, in each particular
case, that the sweet little blockhead will in fact
never get a brief;-but I will venture to say,
there is not a parent from the Giant's Causeway
to Bantry Bay who does not conceive that his
child is the unfortunate victim of the exclusion,
and that nothing short of positive law could
prevent his own dear pre-eminent Paddy from
rising to the highest honors of the State.—
[P. P. Letters.]
WAR AND REFORMS.—How easy it is to shed
human blood—how easy it is to persuade our-
selves that it is our duty to do so—and that the
decision has cost us a severe struggle—how
much in all ages have wounds and shrieks and
tears been the cheap and vulgar resources of the
rulers of mankind—how difficult and how noble
it is to govern in kindness and to found an em-
pire upon the everlasting basis of justice and
affection —But what do men call vigor? To
1et loose hussars and to bring up artillery, to
govern with lighted matches, and to cut, and


164 $gomey 5mitb’3
push, and prime—I call this, not vigor, but the
sloth of cruelty and ignorance. The vigor Ilove
consists in finding out wherein subjects are
aggrieved, in relieving them, in studying the
temper and genius of a people, in consulting
their prejudices, in selecting proper persons to
lead and manage them, in the laborious, watch-
ful and difficult task of increasing public happi-
ness by allaying each particular discontent.—
[P. P. Letters.]
PROHIBITION OF DRUGS.—Conceive a states-
man who would bring the French to reason by
keeping them without rhubarb, and exhibit to
mankind the awful spectacle of a nation deprived
of neutral salts. This is not the dream of a
wild apothecary indulging in his own opium ;
this is not the distempered fancy of a pounder
of drugs, delirious from smallness of profits:
but it is the sober, deliberate, and systematic
scheme of a man to whom the public safety is
entrusted, and whose appointment is considered
by many as a masterpiece of political sagacity.
What a sublime thought, that no purge can
now be taken between the Weser and the
Garonne; that the bustling pestle is still, the
canorous mortar mute, and the bowels of man-
kind locked up for fourteen degrees of latitude
When, I should be curious to know, were all


"Clit amo (Oligoom 165
the powers of crudity and flatulence fully
explained to his Majesty's ministers ? At what
period was this great plan of conquest and
constipation fully developed 2 In whose mind
was the idea of destroying the pride and the
plasters of France first engendered 2 Without
castor oil they might for some months, to be
sure, have carried on a lingering war; but can
they do without bark? Will the people live
under a government where antimonial powders
cannot be procured 2 Will they bear the loss
of mercury “There 's the rub.” Depend
upon it, the absence of the materia medica will
soon bring them to their senses, and the cry of
Bourbon and bolus burst forth from the Baltic
to the Mediterranean.—[P. P. Letters.]
ToI.ERATION IN HUNGARY.-It is impossible
to think of the affairs of Ireland without being
forcibly struck with the parallel of Hungary.
Of her seven millions of inhabitants, one half
were Protestants, Calvinists, and Lutherans,
many of the Greek Church, and many Jews:
such was the state of their religious dissensions,
that Mahomet had often been called in to the
aid of Calvin, and the crescent often glittered
on the walls of Buda and of Presburg. At last,
in 1791, during the most violent crisis of dis-
turbance, a diet was called, and by a great


I66 $goney, 5mitb’g
majority of voices a decree was passed, which
secured to all the contending sects the fullest
and freest exercise of religious worship and
education; ordained (let it be heard in Hamp-
stead) that churches and chapels should be
erected for all on the most perfectly equal
terms ; that the Protestants of both confessions
should depend upon their spiritual superiors
alone; liberated them from swearing by the
usual oath, “the holy Virgin Mary, the saints,
and chosen of God”; and then the decree
adds, “that public offices and honors, high or
low, great or small, shall be given to natural-
born Hungarians who deserve well of their
country, and possess the other qualifications, let
their religion be zwhat it may.” Such was the
line of policy pursued in a diet consisting of
four hundred members, in a state whose form
of government approaches nearer to our own
than any other, having a Roman Catholic
establishment of great wealth and power, and
under the influence of one of the most bigoted
Catholic Courts in Europe. This measure has
now the experience of eighteen years in its
favor; it has undergone a trial of fourteen
years of revolution such as the world never
witnessed, and more than equal to a century
less convulsed : What have been its effects?
When the French advanced like a torrent
_-_


I68 5goney, 5mitb’3
agree with him upon religious subjects; it ap-
pears to be ludicrous: but I am convinced it
has done infinite mischief to the Catholics, and
made a very serious impression upon the minds
of many gentlemen of large landed property.—
[P. P. Letters.]
IRISH PRIESTS' INCOME.—The revenue of the
Irish Roman Catholic Church is made of half-
pence, potatoes, rags, bones, and fragments of
old clothes; and those, Irish old clothes. They
worship often in hovels, or in the open air, from
the want of any place of worship. Their reli-
gion is the religion of three fourths of the popu-
lation l Not far off, in a well-windowed and
well-roofed house, is a well-paid Protestant cler-
gyman, preaching to stools and hassocks, and
crying in the wilderness; near him the clerk,
near him the sexton, near him the sexton's wife
—furious against the errors of Popery, and will-
ing to lay down their lives for the great truths
established at the Diet of Augsburg.—[Letters
on Irish Clergy.]
CIVII, WAR AND REPEAL.-Civil war is pref-
erable to Repeal. Much as I hate wounds, dan-
gers, privations, and explosions—much as I love
regular hours of dinner—foolish as I think men
covered with the feathers of the male Pullus do-


17o 5 goney, 5mitb’s
PAYMENT OF IRISH CATHOLIC CLERGY..—The
first thing to be done is to pay the priests, and
after a little time they will take the money.
One man wants to repair his cottage; another
wants a buggy; a third cannot shut his eyes
to the dilapidations of a cassock. The draft is
payable at sight in Dublin, or by agents in the
next market town dependent upon the Commis-
sion in Dublin. The housekeeper of the holy
man is importunate for money, and if it be not
procured by drawing for the salary, it must be
extorted by curses and comminations from the
ragged worshippers, slowly, sorrowfully, and
sadly.—[Letters on Irish Clergy.]
DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS witH ROME.-It
turns out that there is no law to prevent enter-
ing into diplomatic engagements with the Pope.
The sooner we become acquainted with a gen-
tleman who has so much to say to eight mil-
lions of our subjects the better | Can anything
be so childish and absurd as a horror of commu-
nicating with the Pope, and all the hobgoblins
we have imagined of premunires and outlawries
for this contraband trade in piety 2 Our ances-
tors (strange to say wiser than ourselves) have
1eft us to do as we please, and the sooner Gov-
ernment do, what they can do legally, the bet-
ter. A thousand opportunities of doing good


Túlit amo (Uligoom 171
in Irish affairs have been lost, from our having
no avowed and dignified agent at the Court of
Rome. If it depended upon me, I would send
the Duke of Devonshire there to-morrow, with
nine chaplains and several tons of Protestant
theology. I have no love of Popery, but the
Pope is at all events better than the idol of Jug-
gernaut, whose chaplains I believe we pay, and
whose chariot I dare say is made in Long Acre.
We pay Io,000l. a year to our ambassador at
Constantinople, and are startled with the idea
of communicating diplomatically with Rome,
deeming the Sultan a better Christian than the
Pope —[Letters on Irish Clergy.]
CABINET DINNERS.—If I were a member of
the Cabinet, and met my colleagues once a week
to eat birds and beasts, and to talk over the state
of the world, I should begin upon Ireland be-
fore the soup was finished, go on through fish,
turkey, and saddle of mutton, and never end till
the last thimbleful of claret had passed down the
throat of the incredulous Haddington: but there
they sit, week after week; there they come,
week after week; the Piccadilly Mars, the
Scotch Neptune, Themis Lyndhurst, the Tam-
worth Baronet, dear Goody, and dearer Gladdy,
and think no more of paying the Catholic
clergy, than a man of real fashion does of


172 $goney, $nitb'g
paying his tailor!—[Letters on Irish Cler-
gy.]
EPISCOPAL CONTRASTs.-If I were a Bishop,
living beautifully in a state of serene plentitude,
I don’t think I could endure the thought of so
many honest, pious, and laborious clergymen
of another faith, placed in such disgraceful cir-
cumstances ! I could not get into my carriage
with jelly-springs, or see my two courses every
day, without remembering the buggy and the
bacon of some poor old Catholic Bishop, ten
times as laborious, and with much more, per-
haps, of theological learning than myself, often
distressed for a few pounds ! and burthened
with duties utterly disproportioned to his age
and strength.-[Letters on Irish Clergy.]
LovE OF TYRANNY.—Human beings cling
to their delicious tyrannies, and to their exqui-
site nonsense, like a drunkard to his bottle,
and go on till death stares them in the face.—
[Letters on Irish Clergy.]
BEEFFOR HINDoos.-Ihave always compared
the Protestant church in Ireland (and I believe
my friend Thomas Moore stole the simile from
me) to the institution of butchers' shops in all
the villages of our Indian empire. “We will


"GUlit amo (Uligoom 173
have a butcher's shop in every village, and you,
Hindoos, shall pay for it. We know that many
of you do not eat meat at all, and that the sight
of beefsteaks is particularly offensive to you;
but still, a stray European may pass through
your village, and want a steak or a chop : the
shop shall be established ; and you shall pay for
it.” This is English Legislation for Ireland 11
—[Letters on Irish Clergy.]
EFFECTS OF PAYMENT OF CATHOLIC CLERGY.
—I am thoroughly convinced that State pay-
ments to the Catholic clergy would remove a
thousand causes of hatred between the priest
and his flock, and would be as favorable to the
increase of his useful authority, as it would be
fatal to his factious influence over the people.
—[Letters on Irish Clergy.]
GoRED TO DEATH.-If a lawyer is wounded,
the rest of the profession pursue him, and put
him to death. If a churchman is hurt, the
others gather round for his protection, stamp
with their feet, push with their horns, and de-
molish the dissenter who did the mischief.-
[E. R. 1822.]
INTERRogATION of CURATES.-If a man is a
captain in the army in one part of England, he


1. ** $gèney Smitb's
is captain in all. The general who commands
north of the Tweed does not say, You shall
never appear in my district, or exercise the
functions of an officer, if you do not answer
eighty-seven questions on the art of war,
according to my notions. The same officer
who commands a ship of the line in the Medi-
terranean, is considered as equal to the same
officer in the North Seas. The sixth command-
ment is suspended, by one medical diploma,
from the north of England to the south. But,
by this new system of interrogation, a man
may be admitted into orders at Barnet, rejected
at Stevenage, readmitted at Brogden, kicked
out as a Calvinist at Witham Common, and
hailed as an ardent Arminian on his arrival at
York.-[E. R. 1822.]
VARIETIES OF BELIEF.—Mr. Greenough has
made a map of England, according to its geo-
logical varieties;–blue for the chalk, green for
the clay, red for the sand, and so forth. Under
the system of Bishop Marsh, we must petition
for the assistance of the geologist in the fabri-
cation of an ecclesiastical map. All the Ar-
minian districts must be purple. Green for one
theological extremity—sky-blue for another—
as many colors as there are bishops—as many
shades of these colors as there are Archdeacons
-


TJUlit and UÇligoom I75
—a tailor's pattern card—the picture of vanity,
fashion, and caprice.—[E. R. 1822.]
CoMMON SENSE.-The longer we live, the
more we are convinced of the justice of the old
saying, that an ounce of mother wit is zvorth a
pound of clergy; that discretion, gentle man-
ners, common sense, and good nature, are, in
men of high ecclesiastical station, of far greater
importance than the greatest skill in discrimi-
nating between sublapsarian and supralapsa-
rian doctrines.—[E. R. 1822.]
BITTER BISHOPS.—What would the worst
enemy of the English Church require 2–a
bitter, bustling, theological Bishop, accused
by his clergy of tyranny and oppression—the
cause of daily petitions and daily debates in
the House of Commons—the idoneous vehicle
of abuse against the Establishment—a stalking-
horse to bad men for the introduction of revo-
lutionary opinions, mischievous ridicule, and
irreligious feelings.
It is inconceivable how such a prelate shakes
all the upper works of the Church, and ripens
it for dissolution and decay. Six such Bishops,
multiplied by eighty-seven, and working with
five hundred and twenty-two questions, would
fetch every thing to the ground in 1ess than six


176 5pbney, 5mitb's
months. But what if it pleased Divine Provi-
dence to afflict every prelate with the spirit of
putting eighty-seven queries, and the two
Archbishops with the spirit of putting twice
as many, and the Bishop of Sodor and Man
with the spirit of putting only forty-three
queries 2—there would then be a grand total of
two thousand three hundred and thirty-five
interrogations flying about the English Church;
and sorely vexed would the land be with Ques-
tion and Answer.—[E. R. 1822.]
THE STANDARD OF FAITH.—The Bishop not
only puts the questions, but he actually assigns
the limits within which they are to be answered.
Spaces are left in the paper of interrogations,
to which limits the answer is to be confined ;-
two inches to original sin ; an inch and a half
to justification; three quarters to predestina-
nation; and to free will only a quarter of an
inch. But if his Lordship gives them an inch,
they will take an ell.—[E. R. 1822.]
MoDERATE PUNISHMENT.—His Lordship
boasts, that he has excluded only two curates.
So the Emperor of Hayti boasted that he had
only cut off two persons’ heads for disagreeable
behaviour at his table.—[E. R. 1822.]
EPIscoPAL BREVITY..—We never met with
_-_
_-


"Ulit amo (Uligöom 177
any style so entirely clear of all redundant
and vicious ornament, as that which the ec-
clesiastical Lord of Peterborough has adopted
towards his clergy. It, in fact, may be all
reduced to these few words—“ Reverend Sir,
I shall do what I please—Peterborough.”—[E.
R. 1822.]
CURATES.—A Curate—there is something
which excites compassion in the very name of a
Curate l!! How any man of Purple, Palaces,
and Preferment, can let himself loose against
this poor working man of God, we are at a loss
to conceive, a learned man in an hovel, with
sermons and saucepans, lexicons and bacon,
Hebrew books and ragged children—good and
patient—a comforter and a preacher—the first
and purest pauper in the hamlet, and yet show-
ing, that, in the midst of his worldly misery, he
has the heart of a gentleman, and the spirit of a
Christian, and the kindness of a pastor; and this
man, though he has exercised the duties of a
clergyman for twenty years—though he has
most ample testimonies of conduct from clergy-
men as respectable as any Bishop—though an
Archbishop add his name to the list of witnesses,
is not good enough for Bishop Marsh ; but is
pushed out in the street, with his wife and
children, and his little furniture, to surrender


178 $goney, 5mitb'6
his honor, his faith, his conscience, and his
learning—or to starve —[E. R. 1822.]
SENSITIVENEss of CURATES.–Men of very
small incomes, be it known to his Lordship,
have very often very acute feelings; and a Curate
trod on feels a pang as great as when a Bishop
is refuted.—[E. R. 1822.]
PAYMENT BY LOTTERY.—It seems a paradox-
ical statement; but the fact is, that the respec-
tability of the Church, as well as of the Bar, is
almost entirely preserved by the unequal
division of their revenues. A Bar of one
hundred lawyers travel the Northern Circuit,
enlightening provincial ignorance, curing local
partialities, diffusing knowledge, and dispensing
justice in their route : it is quite certain that all
they gain is not equal to all that they spend; if
the profits were equally divided there would not
be six and eight-pence for each person, and
there would be no Bar at all. At present, the
success of the leader animates them all—each
man hopes to be a Scarlett or a Brougham—and
takes out his ticket in a lottery by which the
mass must infallibly lose, trusting (as mankind
are so apt to do) to his good fortune, and believ-
ing that the prize is reserved for him—disap-
pointment and defeat for others. So it is with the
º
n


VUlit amo Uligoom I79
clergy: the whole income of the Church, if
equally divided, would be about 25ol. for each
minister. Who would go into the Church and
spend I,2Ool. or 1,500l. upon his education, if
such were the highest remuneration he could
ever look to? At present, men are tempted
into the Church by the prizes of the Church,
and bring into that Church a great deal of
capital, which enables them to live in decency,
supporting themselves, not with the money of
the public, but with their own money, which,
but for this temptation, would have been carried
into some retail trade. The offices of the Church
would then fall down to men little less coarse
and ignorant than agricultural laborers—the
clergyman of the parish would soon be seen in
the squire's kitchen ; and all this would take
place in a country where poverty is infamous.-
[Letter to Archdeacon Singleton.]
DEMOCRACY IN THE CHURCH.-I am sur-
prised it does not strike the mountaineers how
very much the great emoluments of the Church
are flung open to the lowest ranks of the com-
munity. Butchers, bakers, publicans, school-
masters, are perpetually seeing their children
elevated to the mitre. Let a respectable baker
drive through the city from the west end of the
town, and let him cast an eye on the battlements


18O $vöncy $mitb’s
of Northumberland House, has his little muffin-
faced son the smallest chance of getting in
among the Percies, enjoying a share of their
luxury and splendor, and of chasing the deer
with hound and horn upon the Cheviot Hills 2
But let him drive his alum-steeped loaves a little
further, till he reaches St. Paul’s Churchyard,
and all his thoughts are changed when he sees
that beautiful fabric; it is not impossible that his
little penny roll may be introduced into that
splendid oven. Young Crumpet is sent to
school—takes to his books—spends the best
years of his life, as all eminent Englishmen do,
in making Latin verses—knows that the crum
in crum-pet is long, and the pet short—goes to
the University—gets a prize for an Essay on the
Dispersion of the Jews—takes orders—becomes
a Bishop's chaplain—has a young nobleman for
his pupil—publishes an useless classic, and a
serious call to the unconverted—and then goes
through the Elysian transitions of Prebendary,
Dean, Prelate, and the long train of purple,
profit, and power. — [Letter to Archdeacon
Singleton.]
PAYMENT OF THE CLERGY.—This, it will be
said, is a Mammonish view of the subject: it is
so, but those who make this objection forget the
immense effect which Mammon produces upon


TCURIt amo (Uligoom I8I
religion itself. Shall the Gospel be preached by
men paid by the State 2 shall these men be taken
from the lower orders, and be meanly paid?
shall there be men of learning and education ?
and shall there be some magnificent endow-
ments to allure such men into the Church 2
Which of these methods is the best for diffusing
the rational doctrines of Christianity? Not in
the age of the apostles, not in the abstract,
timeless, nameless, placeless land of the phi-
losophers, but in the year 1837, in the porter-
brewing, cotton-spinning, tallow-melting king-
dom of Great Britain, bursting with opulence,
and flying from poverty as the greatest of human
evils. Many different answers may be given to
these questions; but they are questions which,
not ending in Mammon, have a powerful
bearing on real religion, and deserve the deepest
consideration from its disciples and friends. Let
the comforts of the clergy go for nothing.
Consider their state only as religion is affected
by it. If upon this principle I am forced to
allot to some an opulence which my clever
friend the Examiner would pronounce to
be unapostolical, I cannot help it; I must
take this people with all their follies, and
prejudices, and circumstances, and carve out
an establishment best suited for them, how-
ever unfit for early Christianity in barren and


I82 $gomey 5mitb'g
conquered Judea.—[Letter to Archdeacon Sing-
leton.]
BISHOPs Not To BE SUSPECTED.—It is a very
singular thing that the law always suspects
Judges, and never suspects Bishops. If there
be any way in which the partialities of the
Judge may injure laymen, the subject is fenced
round with all sorts of jealousies, and enact-
ments, and prohibitions—all partialities are
guarded against, and all propensities watched.
Where Bishops are concerned, Acts of Parlia-
ment are drawn up for beings who can never
possibly be polluted by pride, prejudice, passion,
or interest. Not otherwise would be the case
with Judges, if they, like the heads of the
Church, legislated for themselves.—[Letter to
Archdeacon Singleton.]
THE PUBLIC EYE.—With regard to that com-
mon newspaper phrase the public eye—there 's
nothing (as the Bench well know) more wan-
dering and slippery than the public eye. In five
years hence the public eye will no more see
what description of men are promoted by Bish-
ops, than it will see what Doctors of Law are
promoted by the Turkish Uhlema; and at the
end of this period (such is the example set by
the Commission), the public eye turned in every


TJUlit amo (Uligoom 183
direction may not be able to see any Bishops at
all.—[Letter to Archdeacon Singleton.]
EPISCOPAL CORRESPONDENCE.-The first of
three bishops whom I remember was a man
of careless easy temper, and how patronage
went in those days may be conjectured by the
following letters—which are not his, but serve
to illustrate a system :—
The Bishop to Lord A–.
My dear Lord,
I have noticed with great pleasure the behavior of your
Lordship's second son, and am most happy to have it in
my power to offer him the living of . . . He will
find it of considerable value; and there is, I understand,
a very good house upon it, etc., etc.
This is to confer a living upon a man of real
merit out of the family; into which family, ap-
parently sacrificed to the public good, the living
is brought back by the second letter:
The same to the same a year after.
My dear Lord,
Will you excuse the liberty I take in soliciting pro-
motion for my grandson 2 He is an officer of great skill
and gallantry, and can bring the most ampletestimonials
from some of the best men in the profession : the Are-
thusa frigate is, I understand, about to be commis-
sioned ; and if, etc., etc.—
[Letter to Archdeacon Singleton.]


TJUlit amo (Uligoom 18
l
away when the time comes. Every body has
their favorite death: some delight in apoplexy,
and others prefer marasmus. I would infinitely
rather be crushed by democrats, than, under the
plea of the public good, be mildly and blandly
absorbed by bishops.—[Letter to Archdeacon
Singleton.]
CLERICAL SUBJECTION.—What Bishops like
best in their Clergy is a dropping-down-dead-
ness of manner.—[Letter to Archdeacon Sin-
gleton.]
SYDNEY SMITH's CAREER IN THE CHURCH.-
You tell me I shall be laughed at as a rich and
overgrown Churchman. Be it so. I have been
laughed at a hundred times in my life, and care
little or nothing about it. If I am well pro-
vided for now—I have had my full share of the
blanks in the lottery as well as the prizes. Till
thirty years of age I never received a farthing
from the Church; then 50l. per annum for two
years—then nothing for ten years—then 500/.
per annum, increased for two or three years to
8ool., till in my grand climacteric, I was made
Canon of St. Paul's; and before that period, I
had built a Parsonage-house with farm offices
for a large farm, which cost me 4,000l., and had
reclaimed another from ruin at the expense of


2.I86 5goney, 5mitb's
2,000l. A lawyer, or a physician in good practice,
would smile at this picture of great ecclesiasti-
cal wealth ; and yet I am considered as a perfect
monster of ecclesiastical prosperity.
I should be very sorry to give offence to the
dignified ecclesiastics who are in the Commis-
sion : I hope they will allow for the provocation,
if I have been a little too warm in the defence
of St. Paul’s, which I have taken a solemn oath
to defend. I was at school and college with the
Archbishop of Canterbury: fifty-three years ago
he knocked me down with the chess-board for
checkmating him—and now he is attempting
to take away my patronage. I believe these
are the only two acts of violence he ever com-
mitted in his life; the interval has been one of
gentleness, kindness, and the most amiable and
high-principled courtesy to his Clergy.—[Letter
to Archdeacon Singleton.]
AN OLD WHIG.—As for my friends the Whigs,
I neither wish to offend them nor anybody else.
I consider myself to be as good a Whig as any
amongst them. I was a Whig before many of
them were born—and while some of them were
Tories and Waverers. I have always turned
out to fight their battles, and when I saw no
other Clergyman turn out but myself—and this
in times before liberality was well recompensed,


"Ulit amo (Uligoom 187
and therefore in fashion, and when the smallest
appearance of it seemed to condemn a Church-
man to the greatest obloquy, and the most hope-
less poverty. It may suit the purpose of the
Ministers to flatter the Bench ; it does not suit
mine. I do not choose in my old age to be
tossed as a prey to the Bishop; I have not
deserved this of my Whig friends. – [Letter
to Archdeacon Singleton.]
THE WHIG ADMINISTRATION.—Nobody ad-
mires the general conduct of the Whig admin-
istration more than I do. They have conferred,
in their domestic policy, the most striking
benefits on the country. To say that there is
no risk in what they have done is mere non-
sense: there is great risk ; and all honest men
must balance to counteract it—holding back as
firmly down hill as they pulled vigorously up
hill. Still, great as the risk is, it was worth
while to incur it in the Poor Law Bill, in the
Tithe Bill, in the Corporation Bill, and in the
circumscription of the Irish Protestant Church.
In all these matters, the Whig Ministry, after
the heat of party is over, and when Joseph
Hume and Wilson Croker are powdered into
the dust of death, will gain great and de-
served fame.—[Letter to Archdeacon Single-
ton, 1835.]


I88 $gomey 5mitb's
A WHIG JEHU.—You will, of course, consider
me as a defender of abuses. I have all my life
been just the contrary, and I remember, with
pleasure, thirty years ago, old Lord Stowell
saying to me: “Mr. Smith, you would have
been a much richer man if you had joined us.”
I like, my dear Lord, the road you are travelling,
but I don’t like the pace you are driving : too
similar to that of the son of Nimshi. I always
feel myself inclined to cry out, Gently, John,
gently down hill. Put on the drag. We shall
be over, if you go so quick—you’ll do us a
mischief.-[Letter to Archdeacon Singleton.]
DISSENTERS WITHOUT A GRIEVANCE.-Re-
member, as a philosopher, that the Church of
England now is a very different Institution
from what it was twenty years ago. It then
oppressed every sect, they are now all free—
all exempt from the tyranny of an Establish-
ment; and the only real cause of complaint for
Dissenters is, that they can no longer find a
grievance, and enjoy the distinction of being
persecuted. I have always tried to reduce them
to this state, and I do not pity them.—[Letter
to Archdeacon Singleton.]
HIGH-PRESSURE WISDOM. — All gradation
and caution have been banished since the


(Clit amo Uligoom 189
Reform Bill—rapid high-pressure wisdom is
the only agent in public affairs.-[Letter to
Archdeacon Singleton.]
LORD MELBOURNE. — Viscount Melbourne
declared himself quite satisfied with the Church
as it is ; but if the public had any desire to alter
it, they might do as they pleased. He might
have said the same thing of the Monarchy, or
of any other of our institutions; and there is in
the declaration a permissiveness and good humor
which in public men have seldom been exceed-
ed. Carelessness, however, is but a poor
imitation of genius, and the formation of a
wise and well-reflected plan of Reform conduces
more to the lasting fame of a Minister than
that affected contempt of duty which every man
sees to be mere vanity, and a vanity of no very
high description.
But if the truth must be told, our Viscount is
somewhat of an impostor. Every thing about
him seems to betoken careless desolation : any
one would suppose from his manner that he
was playing at chuck-farthing with human
Happiness; that he was always on the heel of
pastime; that he would giggle away the Great
Charter, and decide by the method of tee-totum
whether my Lords the Bishops should or should
not retain their seats in the House of Lords.


TUlit and QUligöOm I91
fabric of levity and gayety he has reared; but I
accuse our Minister of honesty and diligence:
I deny that he is careless or rash : he is nothing
more than a man of good understanding, and
good principle, disguised in the eternal and
somewhat wearisome affectation of a political
Roué.-[Letter to Archdeacon Singleton.]
BISHOP BLOMFIELD.—In not acting so as to
be suspected, the Bishop of London should
resemble Caesar's wife. In other respects, this
excellent prelate would not have exactly suited
for the partner for that great and self-willed
man; and an idea strikes me, that it is not im-
possible he might have been in the Senate-
house instead of Caesar.—[Letter to Archdeacon
Singleton.]
LoRD JoHN RUSSELL.—There is not a better
man in England than Lord John Russell; but
his worst failure is that he is utterly ignorant of
all moral fear; there is nothing he would not
undertake. I believe he would perform the
operation for the stone—build St. Peter's—or
assume (with or without ten minutes' notice)
the command of the Channel Fleet; and no one
would discover by his manner that the patient
had died—the Church tumbled down—and the
Channel Fleet been knocked to atoms. I be-


I92 $göncy $mitb'g
lieve his motives are always pure, and his
measures often able; but they are endless, and
never done with that pedetentous pace and
pedetentous mind in which it behooves the wise
and virtuous improver to walk. He alarms the
wise Liberals: and it is impossible to sleep
soundly while he has the command of the
watch.*
Do not say, my dear Lord John, that I am too
severe upon you. A thousand years have scarce
sufficed to make our blessed England what it is;
an hour may lay it in the dust: and can you
with all your talents renovate its shattered
splendor—can you recall back its virtues—can
you vanquish time and fate? But, alas ! you
want to shake the world, and be the Thunderer
of the scene —[Letter to Archdeacon Singleton.]
BISHOPS INCOMEs.-The Bishops and Com-
missioners wanted a fund to endow small Liv-
ings; they did not touch a farthing of their
own incomes, only distributed them a little
more equally; and proceeded lustily at once to
confiscate Cathedral property. But why was
it necessary, if the fund for small Livings was
such a paramount consideration, that the future
* Another peculiarity of the Russells is, that they never
alter their opinions; they are an excellent race, but they
must be trépanned before they can be convinced.-
[Letter to Archdeacon Singleton.]


WUlit amo Uligöom I93
Archbishops of Canterbury should be left with
two palaces, and 15,000l. per annum ? Why is
every future Bishop of London to have a palace
in Fulham, a house in St. James’ Square, and
10,000l. a year? Could not all the Episcopal
functions be carried on well and effectually with
the half of these incomes 2 Is it necessary that
the Archbishop of Canterbury should give feasts
to Aristocratic London; and that the domestics
of the Prelacy should stand with swords and
bag-wigs round pig, and turkey, and venison,
to defend, as it were, the Orthodox gastronome
from the fierce Unitarian, the fell Baptist, and
all the famished children of Dissent?—[Zetter
to Archdeacon Singleton.]
A MODERN FABLE.—This comes of calling a
meeting of one species of cattle only. The
horned cattle say,+“If you want any meat, kill
the sheep; don't meddle with us, there is no
beef to spare.” They said this, however, to the
lion : and the cunning animal, after he had
gained all the information necessary for the de-
struction of the muttons, and learnt how well
and widely they pastured, and how they could
be most conveniently eaten up, turns round and
informs the cattle, who took him for their best
and tenderest friend, that he means to eat them
up also. Frequently did Lord John meet the


I94 $goney 5mitb'g
destroying Bishops: much did he commend
their daily heap of ruins ; sweetly did they
smile on each other, and much charming talk
was there of meteorology and catarrh, and the
particular Cathedral they were pulling down at
each period; till one fine day the Home Secre-
tary, with a voice more bland, and a look more
ardently affectionate, than that which the mas-
culine mouse bestows on his nibbling female,
informed them that the Government meant to
take all the Church property into their own
hands, to pay the rates out of it and deliver the
residue to the rightful possessors. Such an ef-
fect, they say, was never before produced by a
coup de théâtre. The Commission was separated
in an instant: London clenched his fist; Can-
terbury was hurried out by his chaplains, and
put into a warm bed; a solemn vacancy spread
itself over the face of Gloucester; Lincoln was
taken out in strong hysterics. What a noble
scene Serjeant Talfourd would have made of
this ' Why are such talents wasted on ſon and
the Athenian Captive?—[Letter to Archdeacon
Singleton.]
Government MANAGEMENT.-If Govern-
ment are to take into their own hands all prop-
erty which is not managed with the greatest
sharpness and accuracy, they may squeeze one


TUlit amo (Uligoom I95
eighth per cent. out of the Turkey Company;
Spring Rice would become Director of the
Hydro-impervious Association, and clear a few
hundreds for the Treasury. The British Roasted
Apple Society is notoriously mismanaged, and
Lord John and Brother Lister, by a careful se-
lection of fruit, and a judicious management of
fuel, would soon get it up to par.—[Letter to
Archdeacon Singleton.]
THE BISHOPS’ SATURDAY NIGHT.—A Church
is in danger when it is degraded. It costs man-
kind much less to destroy it when an institution
is associated with mean, and not with elevated,
ideas. I should like to see the subject in the
hands of H. B. I would entitle the print—
“The Bishops' Saturday Night; or, Lord John Russell
at the Pay-Table.”
The Bishops should be standing before the
pay-table, and receiving their weekly allowance;
Lord John and Spring Rice counting, ringing,
and biting the sovereigns, and the Bishop of
Exeter insisting that the Chancellor of the
Exchequer has given him one which was not
weight. Viscount Melbourne, in high chuckle,
should be standing, with his hat on, and his
back to the fire, delighted with the contest;
aud the Deans and Canons should be in the


196 $yoney, 5mitb’s
background, waiting till their turn came, and
the Bishops were paid ; and among them a
Canon, of large composition, urging them not
to give way too much to the Bench. Perhaps I
should add the President of the Board of Trade,
recommending the truck principle to the Bish-
ops, and offering to pay them in hassocks, cas-
socks, aprons, shovel-hats, sermon-cases, and
such like ecclesiastical gear.—[Letter to Arch-
deacon Singleton.]
THE FOOLOMETER.—I am astonished that
these Ministers neglect the common precaution
of a foolometer,” with which no public man
should be unprovided : I mean, the acquaint-
ance and society of three or four regular British
fools as a test of public opinion. Every Cabi-
net Minister should judge of all his measures
by his foolometer, as a navigator crowds or
shortens sail by the barometer in his cabin. I
have a very valuable instrument of that kind
* Mr. Fox very often used to say: “I wonder what
Lord B. will think of this 2 ” Lord B. happened to be a
very stupid person, and the curiosity of Mr Fox's friends
was naturally excited to know why he attached such
importance to the opinion of such an ordinary common-
place person. “His opinion,” said Mr. Fox, “is of much
more importance than you are aware of. He is an exact
representative of all commonplace English prejudices,
and what Lord B. thinks of any measure, the great ma-
jority of English people will think of it.” It would be
a good thing 1ſ every Cabinet of philosophers had a Lord
B. among them.—[Letter to Archdeacon Singleton.]


TNI it amo (Uligoom 197
myself, which I have used for many years; and
I would be bound to predict, with the utmost
nicety, by the help of this machine, the precise
effect which any measure would produce on
public opinion. Certainly, I never saw any
thing so decided as the effects produced upon
my machine by the Rate Bill. No man who
had been accustomed in the smallest degree to
handle philosophical instruments could have
doubted of the storin which was coming on, or
of the thoroughly un-English scheme, in which
the Ministry had so rashly engaged themselves.
CATHEDRALS AND PARISH CHURCHES.—The
word parochial is a fine deceitful word, and
eminently calculated to coax the public. If he
means simply that Cathedrals do not belong to
parishes, that St. Paul's is not the parish church
of Upper Puddicomb, and that the vicar of St.
Fiddlefrid does not officiate in Westminster
Abbey: all this is true enough, but do they not
in the most material points instruct the people
precisely in the same manner as the parochial
Clergy P Are not prayers and sermons the most
important means of spiritual instruction ? And
are there not eighteen or twenty services in
every Cathedral for one which is heard in par-
ish churches 2 I have very often counted in the
afternoon of week days in St. Paul’s 150 people,


198 5goney, 5mitb's
and on Sundays it is full to suffocation. Is all
this to go for nothing 2 and what right has the
Bishop of London to suppose that there is not
as much real piety in Cathedrals as in the most
roadless, postless, melancholy, sequestered ham-
let, preached to by the most provincial, seques-
tered, bucolic Clergyman in the Queen's domin-
ions 2—[E. R. 1826.]
EPISCOPAL INCENDIARIES.—I am thinking
of something else, and I see all of a sudden
a great blaze of light: I behold a great number
of gentlemen in short aprons, neat purple
coats, and gold buckles, rushing about with
torches in their hands, calling each other “My
Lord,” and setting fire to all the rooms in the
house, and the people below delighted with the
combustion : finding it impossible to turn them
from their purpose, and finding that they are all
what they are, by divine permission; I endeavor
to direct their holy innovations into another
channel; and I say to them, “My Lords, had
not you better set fire to the out-of-door offices,
to the barns and stables, and spare this fine
library and this noble drawing-room 2 Yonder
are several cow-houses of which no use is
made ; pray direct your fury against them, and
leave this beautiful and venerable mansion as
you found it.” If I address the divinely per-
-
*


TÜlit ano (Uligoom I99
mitted in this manner, has the Bishop of Lon.
don any right to call me a brother incendiary 2
—[Letter to Archdeacon Singleton.]
SHEEP AND SHEPHERDs.—We want (and he
prints it in italics) for these purposes “all that
we can obtain from whatever sources derived.”
I never remember to have been more alarmed
in my life than by this passage. I said to my-
self, the necessities of the Church have got
such complete hold of the imagination of this
energetic Prelate, who is so captivated by the
holiness of his innovations, that all grades and
orders of the Church and all present and
future interests will be sacrificed to it. I im-
mediately rushed to the Acts of Parliament
which I always have under my pillow to see at
once the worst of what had happened. I found
present revenues of the Bishop all safe; that is
some comfort, I said to myself: Canterbury,
24,000l. or 25,000l. per annum ; London, 18,-
oool. or 20,000l. I began to feel some comfort:
“things are not so bad; the Bishops do not
mean to sacrifice to sheep and shepherd's money
their present revenues; the Bishop of London
is less violent and headstrong than I thought he
would be.” I looked a little further, and found
that 15,000l per annum is allotted to the future
Archbishop of Canterbury, Io, oool, to the


2OO $gomey 5mitb'g
Bishop of London, 8,000l. to Durham, and
8,0000l. each to Winchester and Ely. “Noth-
ing of sheep and shepherd in all this,” I ex-
claimed, and felt still more comforted. It was
not till after the Bishops were taken care of,
and the revenues of the Cathedrals came into
full view, that I saw the perfect development of
the sheep and shepherd principle, the deep and
heartfelt compassion for spiritual laborers, and
that inward groaning for the destitute state of
the Church, and that firm purpose, printed in
italics, of taking for these purposes all that
could be obtained from whatever source de-
rived; and even in this delicious rummage
of Cathedral property, where all the fine church
feelings of the Bishop's heart could be indulged
without costing the poor sufferer a penny, stalls
for Archdeacons in Lincoln and St. Paul’s are,
to the amount of 2,000l. per annum, taken from
the sheep and Shepherd fund, and the patronage
of them divided between two Commissioners,
the Bishop of London, and the Bishop of Lin-
coln, instead of being paid to additional labor-
ers in the Vineyard.—[Letter to Archdeacon
Singleton.]
PROSPECTs of PREFERMENT.—The truth is,
the greater number of Clergymen go into the
Church in order that they may derive a com-
*


2O2 $goney, 5mitb'g
average, ordinary, uninteresting minister;
obese, dumpy, neither ill-natured nor good-
natured : neither learned nor ignorant, striding
over the stiles to Church, with a second-rate
wife—dusty and deliquescent—and four paro-
chial children, full of catechism and bread
and butter; or, let him be seen in one of
those Shem-Ham-and-Japhet buggies—made on
Mount Ararat soon after the subsidence of the
waters, driving in the High Street of Edmon-
ton, Lamong all his pecuniary, saponaceous,
oleaginous parishioners. Can any man of
common sense say that all these outward cir-
cumstances of the Ministers of religion have
no bearing on religion itself?—[Zetter to Arch-
deacon Singleton.]
Mock TURTLE.—I ask the Bishop of London,
a man of honor and conscience, as he is, if he
thinks five years will elapse before a second
attack is made upon Deans and Chapters?
Does he think, after Reformers have tasted the
flesh of the Church, that they will put up with
any other diet 2 Does he forget that Deans and
Chapters are but mock turtle—that more deli-
cious delicacies remain behind P Five years
hence he will attempt to make a stand, and he
will be laughed at and eaten up.–[Letter to
Archdeacon Singleton.]


TUlit amo (Uligoom 2O3
BISHOP Monk.-You must have read an at-
tack upon me by the Bishop of Gloucester, in
the course of which he says that I have not
been appointed to my situation as Canon of St.
Paul’s for my piety and learning, but because I
am a scoffer and a jester. Is not this rather
strong for a Bishop, and does it not appear to
you, Mr. Archdeacon, as rather too close an
imitation of that language which is used in the
apostolic occupation of trafficking in fish P
Whether I have been appointed for my piety or
not must depend upon what this poor man
means by piety. He means by that word, of
course, a defence of all the tyrannical and op-
pressive abuses of the Church which have been
swept away within the last fifteen or twenty
years of my life; the Corporation and Test
Acts; the Penal Laws against the Catholics;
the Compulsory Marriages of Dissenters, and
all those disabling and disqualifying laws which
were the disgrace of our Church, and which he
has always looked up to as the consummation
of human wisdom. If piety consisted in the
defence of these—if it was impious to struggle
for their abrogation, I have indeed led an un-
godly life.
There is nothing pompous gentlemen are so
much afraid of as a little humor. It is like the
objection of certain cephalic animalculae to the


2O4 5poney, 5mitb’s
use of small-tooth combs, “Finger and thumb,
precipitate powder, or anything else you please;
but for heaven’s sake no small-tooth combs l’’
After all, I believe Bishop Monk has been the
cause of much more laughter than ever I have
been. I cannot account for it, but I never see
him enter a room without exciting a smile on
every countenance within it.—[Letter to Arch-
deacon Singleton.]
MEN OF THE WORLD.—Much writing and
much talking are very tiresome; and, above all,
they are so to men who, living in the world, ar-
rive at those rapid and just conclusions which
are only to be made by living in the world.—
[Memoir.]
SERMONS.–Preaching has become a bye-
word for long and dull conversation of any
kind; and whoever wishes to imply, in any
piece of writing, the absence of every thing
agreeable and inviting, calls it a sermon.—
[Memoir.]
PULPIT ELocutION.—To this cause of the
unpopularity of sermons may be added the ex-
tremely ungraceful manner in which they are
delivered. The English, generally remarkable
for doing very good things in a very bad man-


"Clít and UligöOm 205
ner, seem to have reserved the maturity and
plentitude of their awkwardness for the pulpit.
A clergyman clings to his velvet cushion with
either hand, keeps his eye riveted upon his
book, speaks of the ecstasies of joy and fear
with a voice and a face which indicate neither,
and pinions his body and soul into the same at-
titude of limb and thought, for fear of being
called theatrical and affected. The most in-
trepid veteran of us all dares no more than
wipe his face with his cambric sudarium. If,
loy mischance, his hand slip from its orthodox
gripe of the velvet, he draws it back as from
liquid brimstone or the caustic iron of the law,
and atones for this indecorum by fresh inflexi-
bility and more rigorous sameness. Is it won-
der, then, that every semi-delirious sectary who
pours forth his animated nonsense with the
genuine look and voice of passion should gestic-
ulate away the congregation of the most pro-
found and learned divine of the Established
Church and in two Sundays preach him bare
to the very sexton P Why are we natural
everywhere but in the pulpit? No man ex-
presses warm and animated feelings anywhere
else, with his mouth alone, but with his whole
body; he articulates with every limb, and talks
from head to foot with a thousand voices.
Why this holoplexia on sacred occasions alone?


206 $goney, 5mitb’s
Why call in the aid of paralysis to piety? Is it
a rule of oratory to balance the style against
the subject, and to handle the most sublime
truths in the dullest language and the driest
manner 2 Is sin to be taken from man as
Eve was from Adam, by casting him into a
deep slumber? Or from what possible perver-
sion of common sense are we all to look like
field preachers in Zembla, holy lumps of ice,
numbed into quiescence, and stagnation, and
mumbling?—[Memoir.]
INSIPIDITY of SERMONs.—The great object
of modern sermons is to hazard nothing: their
characteristic is decent debility, which alike
guards their authors from ludicrous errors, and
precludes them from striking beauties.—[AE. A’.
1802.]
READING of SERMONs.—Pulpit discourses
have insensibly dwindled from speaking to
reading, a practice of itself sufficient to stifle
every germ of eloquence. It is only by the
fresh feelings of the heart that mankind can be
very powerfully affected. What can be more
ludicrous than an orator delivering stale indig-
nation and fervor of a week old; turning over
whole pages of violent passions, written out in
German text; reading the tropes and apos-


"Ulit amo (Oligoom 2O7
trophes into which he is hurried by the ardor
of his mind, and so affected at a preconcerted
line and page that he is unable to proceed any
further —[E. R. 1802.]
CoNFUTATION OF INFIDELITY. —It is a very
easy thing to talk about the shallow impostures
and the silly ignorant sophisms of Voltaire,
Rousseau, Condorcet, D'Alembert, and Volney,
and to say that Hume is not worth answering.
This affectation of contempt will not do. While
these pernicious writers have power to allure
from the Church great numbers of proselytes,
it is better to study them diligently and to re-
ply to them satisfactorily than to veil insolence,
want of power, or want of industry by a pre-
tended contempt, which may leave infidels and
wavering Christians to suppose that such wri-
ters are abused because they are feared, and
not answered because they are unanswerable.—
[E. R. 1802.]
CoLD CHURCHES.—I am convinced we should
do great injury to the cause of religion if we re-
membered the old combination of arae et foci,
and kept our churches a little warmer. An ex-
perienced clergyman can pretty well estimate
the number of bis audience by the indications
of a sensible thermometer. The same blighting


2O8 $goney, 5mitb's
wind chills piety which is fatal to vegetable
life; yet our power of encountering weather
varies with the object of our hardihood. We
are very Scythians when pleasure is concerned,
and Sybarites when the bell summons us to
church.-[Memoir.]
CEREMONIES.–If anything, there is, perhaps,
too little pomp and ceremony in our worship,
instead of too much. We quarrelled with the
Roman Catholic Church, in a great hurry and a
great passion, and furious with spleen; clothed
ourselves with sackcloth, because she was hab-
ited in brocade; rushing, like children, from
one extreme to another, and blind to all me-
dium between complication and barrenness,
formality and neglect.—[Memoir.]
PRESENT AND FUTURE.—A man who was sure
to die a death of torture in ten years would think
more of the most trifling gratification or calam-
ity of the day than of his torn flesh and twisted
nerves years hence.—[Memoir.]
LEVITY OF ATTENTION.—The cry of a child,
the fall of a book, the most trifling occurrence,
is sufficient to dissipate religious thought, and
to introduce a more willing train of ideas; a
sparrow fluttering about the church is an an-
tagonist which the most profound theologian
-
_- *,


WUlit and (Uligoom 209
in Europe is wholly unable to overcome.—
[Memoir.]
CHRISTIAN INFLUENCE.—The beauty of the
Christian religion is, that it carries the order
and discipline of heaven into our very fancies
and conceptions, and, by hallowing the first
shadowy notions of our minds from which
actions spring, makes our actions themselves
good and holy.—[Memoir.]
THE MEASURE OF PIETY.—Piety, stretched
beyond a certain point, is the parent of impiety.
—[Memoir.]
THE BASIS OF FAITH.—The awe and respect
which a child entertains for its parent and in-
structor, is the first scaffolding upon which the
sacred edifice of religion is reared. A child be-
gins to pray, to act, and to abstain, not to please
God, but to please the parent, who tells him that
such is the will of God.—[E. R. 1806.]
TRUE CHRISTIANITY..—True, modest, unob-
trusive religion—charitable, forgiving, indul-
gent Christianity, is the greatest ornament
and the greatest blessing that can dwell in
the mind of man. But if there be one char-
acter more base, more infamous, and more
shocking than another, it is he who, for the


TJUlit ano (Uligoom 2 II
As their words were to be recorded by inspired
writers, and to go down to future ages, nothing
can have been said without reflection and de-
sign. Nothing is to be lost, every thing is to be
studied : a great moral lesson is often conveyed
in a few words. Read slowly, think deeply, let
every word enter into your soul, for it was
intended for your soul.—[Sermons.]
SIMPLICITY OF GOSPEI, TRUTH. — No man
preaches novelties and discoveries; the object
of preaching is constantly to remind mankind
of what mankind are constantly forgetting ; not
to supply the defects of human intelligence, but
to fortify the feebleness of human resolutions,
to recall mankind from the by-paths where they
turn, into that broad path of salvation, which
all know, but few tread. These plain lessons
the humblest ministers of the Gospel may
teach, if they are honest, and the most pow-
erful Christians will ponder, if they are wise.—
[Sermons.]
On the Sunday after the Birth of the then Duke
of Cornwall, Mr. Sydney Smith introduced
the following into the Prayer used at St.
Paul's Cathedral before the Sermon.
We pray also for that Infant of the Royal Race
whom in thy good Providence thou hast given us


2I2 $goney, 5mitb’3
for our future King. We beseech Thee so to
mould his heart and fashion his spirit, that he
may be a blessing and not an evil to the land of
his birth. May he grow in favor with man, by
leaving to its own force and direction the energy
of a free People! May he grow in favor with
God, by holding the Faith in Christ fervently
and feelingly, without feebleness, without fanati-
cism, without folly! As he will be the first
man in these realms, so may he be the best;-
disdaining to hide bad actions by high station,
and endeavoring always, by the example of a
strict and moral life, to repay those gifts which
a loyal people are so willing to spare from their
own necessities to a good King.
THE JUDICIAL OFFICE.-He who takes the
office of a Judge as it now exists in this country
takes in his hands, a splendid gem, good and
glorious, perfect and pure. Shall he give it up
mutilated, shall he mar it, shall he darken it,
shall it emit no light, shall it be valued at no
price, shall it excite no wonder P Shall he find
it a diamond, shall he leave it a stone? What
shall we say to the man who would wilfully de-
stroy with fire the magnificent temple of God,
in which I am now preaching 2 Far worse is he
who ruins the moral edifices of the world, which
time and toil, and many prayers to God, and
-


TUI it and (Uligöom 213
many sufferings of men, have reared; who puts
out the light of the times in which he lives, and
leaves us to wander amid the darkness of cor-
ruption and the desolation of sin. There may
be, there probably is, in this church, some
young man who may hereafter fill the office
of an English Judge, when the greater part of
those who hear me are dead, and mingled with
the dust of the grave. Let him remember my
words, and let them form and fashion his spirit;
he cannot tell in what dangerous and awful
times he may be placed; but as a mariner looks
to his compass in the calm, and looks to his
compass in the storm, and never keeps his eyes
off his compass, so in every vicissitude of a ju-
dicial life, deciding for the people, deciding
against the people, protecting the just rights
of kings, or restraining their unlawful ambi-
tion, let him ever cling to that pure, exalted,
and Christian independence, which towers over
the little motives of life; which no hope of
favor can influence, which no effort of power
can control. —[Sermons.]
THE SAFETY OF NATIONS.—The most obvious
and important use of this perfect Justice is, that
it makes nations safe: under common circum-
stances, the institutions of Justice seem to have
little or no bearing upon the safety and security


214 5poncy, 5mitb's
of a country, but in periods of real danger,
when a nation surrounded by foreign enemies
contends not for the boundaries of an empire,
but for the very being and existence of empire;
then it is that the advantage of just institu-
tions are discovered. Every man feels that he
has a country, that he has something worth
preserving, and worth contending for. In-
stances are remembered where the weak pre-
vailed over the strong : one man recalls to mind
when a just and upright judge protected him
from unlawful violence, gave him back his
vineyard, rebuked his oppressor, restored him
to his rights, published, condemned, and recti-
fied the wrong. This is what is called country.
Equal rights to unequal possessions, equal jus-
tice to the rich and poor : this is what men come
out to fight for, and to defend.—[Sermons.]
ENGLAND's LAw.—I call you all to witness
if there be any exaggerated picture in this : the
sword is just sheathed, the flag is just furled,
the last sound of the trumpet has just died
away. You all remember what a spectacle this
country exhibited : one heart, one voice—one
weapon, one purpose. And why? Because this
country is a country of the law; because the
Judge is a judge for the peasant as well as for
the palace; because every man's happiness is


TJUlit allo (UligöOm 215
guarded by fixed rules from tyranny and ca-
price. This town, this week, the business of
the few next days, would explain to any en-
lightened European why other nations did fall
in the storins of the world, and why we did not
fall. The Christian patience you may witness,
the impartiality of the judgment-seat, the disre-
spect of persons, the disregard of consequences.
These attributes of justice do not end with ar-
ranging your conflicting rights and mine; they
give strength to the English people, duration
to the English name ; they turn the animal
courage of this people into moral and reli-
gious courage, and present to the lowest of
mankind plain reasons and strong motives why
they should resist aggression from without, and
bind themselves a living rampart round the land
of their birth.-[Assize Sermons.]
THE MARCH of JUSTICE.-The whole tone
and tenor of public morals is affected by the
state of supreme Justice; it extinguishes re-
venge, it communicates a spirit of purity and
uprightness to inferior magistrates; it makes
the great good, by taking away impunity; it
banishes fraud, obliquity, and solicitation, and
teaches men that the law is their right. Truth
is its handmaid, freedom is its child, peace is its
companion; safety walks in its steps, victory


2I6 $goney, 5mitb’s
follows in its train ; it is the brightest emana-
tion of the Gospel ; it is the greatest attribute
of God; it is that centre round which human
motives and passions turn : and Justice, sitting
on high, sees Genius and Power and Wealth
and Birth, revolving round her throne, and
teaches their paths and marks out their orbits,
and warns with a loud voice, and rules with a
strong arm, and carries order and discipline
into a world which but for her would only be a
wild waste of passions.—[Sermons.]
PRISON LIFE.-There are, in every county in
England, large public schools maintained at
the expense of the county for the encourage-
ment of profligacy and vice, and for providing
a proper succession of housebreakers, profli-
gates, and thieves. They are schools, too, con-
ducted without the smallest degree of partiality
or favor, there being no man (however mean
his birth or obscure his situation) who may not
easily procure admission to them. The moment
any young person evinces the slightest propen-
sity for these pursuits he is provided with food,
clothing, and lodging, and put to his studies
under the most accomplished thieves and cut-
throats the county can supply.—[E. R. 1821.]
PRISON REFORM.–It is inconceivable to what


TJUlit amo uisbom 217
a spirit of party this has given birth ;-all the
fat and sleek people, the enjoyers, the mump-
simus, and “well as we are " people, are per-
fectly outrageous at being compelled to do their
duty and to sacrifice time and money to the
lower orders of mankind.—[E. R. 1821.]
THE ENEMIES OF IMPROVEMENT.—Dislike
of innovation proceeds sometimes from the dis-
gust excited by false humanity, canting hypoc-
risy, and silly enthusiasm. It proceeds also
from a stupid and indiscriminate horror of
change, whether of evil for good or good for
evil. There is also much party spirit in these
matters. A good deal of these humane projects
and institutions originate from Dissenters. The
plunderers of the public, the jobbers, and those
who sell themselves to some great man, who
sells himself to a greater, all scent from afar the
danger of political change, are sensible that
the correction of one abuse may lead to that of
another, feel uneasy at any visible operation of
public spirit and justice, hate and tremble at a
man who exposes and rectifies abuses from a
sense of duty, and think, if such things are suf-
fered to be, that their candle-ends and cheese-
parings are no longer safe, and these sagacious
persons, it must be said for them, are not very
wrong in this feeling. Providence, which has


218 5pbney, 5mitb's
denied to them all that is great and good, has
given them a fine tact for the preservation of
their plunder. Their real enemy is the spirit
of inquiry, the dislike of wrong, the love of
right, and the courage and diligence which are
concomitants of these virtues.—[E. R. 1823.]
EFFECTs of JAIL DISCIPLINE.—It is quite
obvious that, if men were to appear again six
months after they were hanged, handsomer,
richer, and more plump than before execution,
the gallows would cease to be an object of ter-
ror. But here are men who come out of jail,
and say: “Look at us; we can read and write;
we can make baskets and shoes, and we went
in ignorant of everything ; and we have learnt to
do without strong liquors, and have no longer
any objection to work, and we did work in the
jail, and have saved money, and here it is.”
What is there of terror and detriment in all
this? and how are crimes to be lessened if they
are thus rewarded?—[E. R. 1821.]
TRACTS FOR CULPRITs.—If education is to
be continued in jails, and tracts are to be dis-
persed, we cannot help lamenting that the
tracts, though full of good principles, are so in-
tolerably stupid, and all apparently constructed
upon the supposition that a thief or a peccant


TUlit amo (Uligoom 219
ploughman are inferior in common sense to a
boy of five years old. The story generally is, that
a laborer with six children has nothing to live
upon but mouldy bread and dirty water; yet
nothing can exceed his cheerfulness and con-
tent, no murmurs, no discontent; of mutton he
has scarcely heard ; of bacon he never dreams;
furfurous bread and the water of the pool con-
stitute his food, establish his felicity, and excite
his warmest gratitude. The squire or parson of
the parish always happens to be walking by, and
overhears him praying for the king and the mem-
bers of the county, and for all in authority; and
it generally ends with their offering him a shill-
ing, which this excellent man declares he does
not want, and will not accept! These are the pam-
phlets which Goodies and Noodles are dispersing
with unwearied diligence.—[E. R. 1821.]
JAIL EDUCATION.—A poor man who is lucky
enough to have his son committed for a felony,
educates him, under such a system, for nothing,
while the virtuous simpleton on the other side
of the wall is paying by the quarter for these at-
tainments. He sees clergymen and ladies busy
with the larcenous pupil, while the poor lad,
who respects the eighth commandment, is con-
signed, in some dark alley, to the frowns and
blows of a ragged pedagogue.—[E. R. 1821.]


22O $goney, 5mitb's
DISCIPLINE.—Mrs. Fry is an amiable, excel-
lent woman, and ten thousand times better than
the infamous neglect that preceded her; but
hers is not the method to stop crimes. In
prisons which are really meant to keep the
multitude in order, and to be a terror to evil-
doers, there must be no sharing of profits, no
visiting of friends, no education but religious
education, no freedom of diet, no weavers'
looms or carpenters' benches. There must be
a great deal of solitude, coarse food, a dress of
shame; hard, incessant, irksome, eternal labor;
a planned and regulated and unrelenting exclu-
sion of happiness and comfort.—[E. R. 1822.]
ScARLETT's Poor BILL.—Mr. Scarlett is a very
strong man, and before he works his battering-
ram he chooses to have the wall made of a
thickness worthy of his blow, capable of evin-
cing, by the enormity of its ruins, the superflu-
ity of his vigor and the certainty of his aim.
If this bill had passed, he could not have
passed. His post-chaise on the Northern Cir-
cuit would have been impeded by the crowds
of houseless villagers, driven from their cot-
tages by landlords rendered merciless by the
bill. In the mud—all in the mud (for such
cases made and provided) would they have
rolled this most excellent counsellor. Insti-


TUlit ano (Uligoom 22I
gated by the devil and their own malicious
purposes, his wig they would have polluted,
and tossed to a thousand winds the parchment
bickerings of Doe and Roe.
His bill, we cannot help saying, appears to us
to be a receipt for universal and interminable
litigation all over England—a perfect law-hurri-
cane—a conversion of all flesh into plaintiffs
and defendants. The parish A. has pulled down
houses, and burthened the parish B. ; B. has
demolished to the misery of C.; which has
again misbehaved itself in the same manner
to the oppression of other letters of the al-
phabet. All run into parchment, and pant for
revenge and exoneration.—[E. R. 1821.]
ANTICIPATED REFORM OF THE POOR LAW.—
As soon as it becomes really impossible to in-
crease the poor fund by law—when there is but
little, and there can be no more, that little will
be administered with the utmost caution ; claims
will be minutely inspected; idle manhood will
not receive the scraps and crumbs which be-
long to failing old age ; distress will make the
poor provident and cautious; and all the good
expected from the abolition of the Poor Laws
will begin to appear.—[E. R. 1821.]
JUSTICE BEFORE DISCIPLINE.-Prison disci-


222 $goney, 5mitb'3
pline is an object of considerable importance;
but the common rights of mankind, and the
common principles of justice, humanity, and
liberty, are of greater consequence even than
prison discipline. Right and wrong, innocence
and guilt, must not be confounded, that a pri-
son-fancying Justice may bring his friend into
the prison and say, “Look what a spectacle of
order, silence, and decorum we have established
here no idleness, all grinding ! we produce a pen-
ny roll every second,-our prison is supposed to
be the best regulated prison in England,-Cubitt
is making us a new wheel of forty-felon power-
look how white the flouris, all done by untried
prisoners—as innocentaslambs!”—[AE.R.1824.]
EFFECTs of PUNISHMENT.-Because punish-
ment does not annihilate crime, it is folly to say
it does not lessen it. It did not stop the murder
of Mrs. Donatty; but how many Mrs. Donatty's
has it kept alive!”—[E. R. 1824.]
THE TREAD-MILL.-The labor of the tread-
mill is irksome, dull, monotonous, and disgust-
ing to the last degree. A man does not see his
work, does not know what he is doing, what
progress he is making; there is no room for art,
contrivance, ingenuity, and superior skill-all
which are the cheering circumstances of human


TJUlit and (Uligoom 223
labor. The husbandman sees the field gradually
subdued by the plough ; the smith beats the
rude mass of iron by degrees into its meditated
shape, and gives it a meditated utility; the
tailor accommodates his parallelogram of cloth
to the lumps and bumps of the human body,
and, holding it up, exclaims, “This will contain
the lower moiety of a human being.” But the
treader does nothing but tread; he sees no
change of objects, admires no new relation of
parts, imparts no new qualities to matter, and
gives to it no new arrangements and positions;
or, if he does, he sees and knows it not, but is
turned at once from a rational being, by a jus-
tice of the peace, into a primum mobile, and
put upon a level with a rush of water or a puff
of steam. It is impossible to get gentlemen to
attend to the distinction between raw and roast-
ed prisoners, without which all discussion on
prisoners is perfectly ridiculous.-[E. R. 1824.]
PRIVILEGE OF PUNISHMENT.—It is said, that
labor may be a privilege as well as a punish-
ment. So may taking physic be a privilege, in
cases where it is asked for as a charitable relief,
but not if it is stuffed down a man's throat
whether he says yea or nay.—[E. R. 1824.]
UNTRIED PRISONERS.—You take up a poor


226 - $pöncy $mitb’s
Counsel, FoR PRISONERS.—A most absurd
argument was advanced in the honorable House,
that the practice of employing counsel would
be such an expense to the prisoner l—just as if
any thing was so expensive as being hanged
What a fine topic for the ordinary ! “You are
going ” (says that exquisite divine) “to be
hanged to-morrow, it is true, but consider what
a sum you have saved Mr. Scarlett or Mr.
Brougham might certainly have presented
arguments to the jury, which would have
insured your acquittal; but do you forget that
gentlemen of their eminence must be recom-
pensed by large fees, and that if your life had
been saved, you would actually have been out
of pocket above 207. 2 You will now die with
the consciousness of having obeyed the dictates
of a wise economy; and with a grateful rever-
ence for the laws of your country, which pre-
vents you from running into such unbounded
expense—so let us now go to prayers.”—[E. R.
1826.]
BARBARITY OF THE OLD LAw.—It is a most
affecting moment in a court of justice, when the
evidence has all been heard, and the Judge asks
the prisoner what he has to say in his defence.
The prisoner, who has (by great exertions, per-
haps, of his friends) saved up money enough to


TÜlit amo (Oligocm 227
procure counsel, says to the Judge, “that he
leaves his defence to his counsel.” We have
often blushed for English humanity to hear
the reply. “Your counsel cannot speak for you,
you must speak for yourself”; and this is the
reply given to a poor girl of eighteen—to a
foreigner—to a deaf man—to a stammerer—to
the sick—to the feeble-–to the old—to the most
abject and ignorant of human beings It is a
reply, we must say, at which common sense
and common feeling revolt; for it is full
of brutal cruelty, and of base inattention of
those who make laws, to the happiness of those
for whom laws were made. We wonder that
any juryman can convict under such a shocking
violation of all natural justice. The iron age of
Clovis and Clottaire can produce no more atro-
cious violation of every good feeling and every
good principle. Can a sick man find strength
and nerve to speak before a large assembly P
can an ignorant man find words? can a low
man find confidence? Is not he afraid of
becoming an object of ridicule 2 can he believe
that his expressions will be understood? How
often have we seen a poor wretch, struggling
against the agonies of his spirit, and the rude-
ness of his conceptions, and his awe of better-
dressed men and better-taught men, and the
shame which the accusation has brought upon


228 5goney, 5mitb’g
his head, and the sight of his parents and
children gazing at him in the Court, for the last
time, perhaps, and after a long absence 1 The
mariner sinking in the wave does not want a
helping hand more than does this poor wretch.
But help is denied to all ! Age cannot have it,
nor ignorance, nor the modesty of women One
hard, uncharitable rule silences the defenders
of the wretched, in the worst of human evils ;
and at the bitterest of human moments, mercy
is blotted out from the ways of men | *[–E. R.
1826.]
FIAT ExPERIMENTUM. – Howard devoted
himself to his country. It was a noble ex-
ample. Let two gentlemen on the Ministerial
side of the House (we only ask for two) commit
some crimes, which will render their execution
a painful necessity. Let them feel, and report
to the House, all the injustice and inconvenience
of having neither a copy of the indictment, nor
a list of witnesses, nor counsel to defend them.
We will venture to say, that the evidence of two
such persons would do more for the improve-
ment of the criminal law, than all the orations
of Mr. Lamb or the lucubrations of Beccaria.
* All this nonsense is now put an end to. Counsel is
allowed to the prisoner, and they are permitted to speak
in his defence.


TUI it amo (Oligoom 229
Such evidence would save time, and bring the
question to an issue. It is a great duty, and
ought to be fulfilled—and in ancient Rome,
would have been fulfilled.—[E. R. 1826.]
CURRENcy of FALLACIES.—There are a vast
number of absurd and mischievous fallacies,
which pass readily in the world for sense and
virtue, while in truth they tend only to fortify
error and encourage crime.—[E. R. 1825.]
THE FALLACY OF AGE.-Our Wise Ances-
tors—the Wisdom of Our Ancestors—the Wis-
dom of Ages—Venerable Antiquity—Wisdom
of Old Times. This mischievous and absurd
fallacy springs from the grossest perversion of
the meaning of words. Experience is certainly
the mother of wisdom, and the old have, of
course, a greater experience than the young;
but the question is, who are the old 2 and who
are the young 2 Of individuals living at the
same period, the oldest has, of course, the
greatest experience; but among generations of
men the reverse of this is true. Those who
come first (our ancestors), are the young people,
and have the least experience. We have added
to their experience the experience of many
centuries: and, therefore, as far as experience
goes, are wiser, and more capable of forming an


230 5 goney, 5mitb's
opinion than they were. The real feeling should
be, not, can we be so presumptuous as to put
our opinions in opposition to those of our
ancestors? but can such young, ignorant, inex-
perienced persons as our ancestors necessarily
were, be expected to have understood a subject
as well as those who have seen so much more,
lived so much longer, and enjoyed the experi-
ence of so many centuries?—[E. R. 1825.]
WISDOM OF OUR ANCESTORS.—Our ancestors,
up to the Conquest, were children in arms;
chubby boys in the time of Edward the First;
striplings under Elizabeth ; men in the reign
of Queen Anne ; and we only are the white-
bearded, silver-headed ancients, who have
treasured up, and are prepared to profit by, all
the experience which human life can supply.
It is necessary to insist upon this; for upon
sacks of wool, and on benches forensic, sit grave
men, and agricolous persons in the Commons,
crying out “Ancestors, Ancestors hodie non /
Saxons, Danes, save us ! Fiddlefrig, help
us ! Howel, Ethelwolf, protect us !”—Any
cover for nonsense—any veil for trash—any
pretext for repelling the innovations of con-
science and of duty —[E. R. 1825.]
IRREvocaBLE LAws.-The despotism of Nero


TUI it amo (Uligoom 23.I
or Caligula would be more tolerable than an
irrevocable lazy. The despot through fear or
favor, or in a lucid interval, might relent; but
how are the Parliament, who made the Scotch
Union, for example, to be awakened from that
dust in which they repose—the jobber and the
patriot, the speaker and the doorkeeper, the
silent voters and the men of rich allusions—
Cannings and cultivators, Barings and beggars
—making irrevocable laws for men who toss
their remains about with spades, and use the
relics of these legislators, to give breadth to
broccoli, and to aid the vernal eruption of
asparagus 2
To suppose that there is any thing which a
whole nation cannot do, which they deem to be
essential to their happiness, and that they can-
not do it, because another generation, long ago
dead and gone, said it must not be done, is mere
nonsense. While you are captain of the vessel,
do what you please; but the moment you quit
the ship, I become as omnipotent as you. You
may leave me as much advice as you please, but
you cannot leave me commands; though, in
fact, this is the only meaning which can be
applied to what are called irrevocable laws.
In every year, and every day of that year,
living men have a right to make their own laws,
and manage their own affairs; to break through


232 5goney, 5mitb's
the tyranny of the ante-spirants—the people
who breathed before them, and to do what they
please for themselves.
When a law is considered as immutable, and
the immutable law happens at the same time to
be too foolish and mischievous to be endured,
instead of being repealed, it is clandestinely
evaded, or openly violated ; and thus the
authority of all law is weakened.
An irrevocable law is a piece of absurd tyran-
ny exercised by the rulers of Queen Anne's
time upon the government of 1825—a certain
art of potting and preserving a kingdom, in one
shape, attitude, and flavour—and in this way it
is that an institution appears like old Ladies’
Sweetmeats and made Wines—Apricot Jam 1822
—Currant Wine 1819—Court of Chancery 1427
—Penal Laws against Catholics 1676. The dif-
ference is, that the Ancient Woman is a better
judge of mouldy commodities than the liberal
part of his Majesty's Ministers. The potting
lady goes sniffing about and admitting light and
air to prevent the progress of decay; while to
him of the Woolsack, all seem doubly dear in
proportion as it is antiquated, worthless, and
unusable.—[E. R. 1825.]
SUBMISSION OF JUDGMENT.-Can there be
greater absurdity than to say that a man is act-
_-


Vuit and Ulisoom 233
ing contrary to his conscience who surrenders
his opinion upon any subject to those who must
understand the subject better than himself?—
[E. R. 1825.]
No INNovaTION.—No Innovation /—To say
that all new things are bad, is to say that all old
things were bad in their commencement: for of
all the old things ever seen or heard of, there is
not one that was not once new. Whatever is
now establishment was once innovation. The
first inventor of pews and parish clerks, was no
doubt considered as a Jacobin in his day.
Judges, juries, criers of the court, are all the
inventions of ardent spirits, who filled the
world with alarm, and were considered as the
great precursors of ruin and dissolution. No
inoculation, no turnpikes, no reading, no writ-
ing, no popery The fool sayeth in his heart,
and crieth with his mouth, “I will have nothing
new!”—[E. R. 1825.]
CoNDUCT AND RESPECT.-The greater the
quantity of respect a man receives, independ-
ently of good conduct, the less good is his
behavior likely to be.—[E. R. 1825.]
WHEN To Do GooD.—Which is the properest
day to do good? which is the properest day to


234 $goney, 5mitb’g
remove a nuisance? we answer, the very first
day a man can be found to propose the removal
of it; and whoever opposes the removal of it on
that day will (if he dare) oppose it on every
other. There is in the minds of many feeble
friends to virtue and improvement, an imaginary
period for the removal of evils, which it would
certainly be worth while to wait for, if there
was the smallest chance of its ever arriving—a
period of unexampled peace and prosperity,
when a patriotic king and an enlightened mob
united their ardent efforts for the amelioration
of human affairs; when the oppressor is as
delighted to give up the oppression, as the
oppressed is to be liberated from it; when the
difficulty and the unpopularity would be to
continue the evil, not to abolish it ! These are
the periods when fair-weather philosophers are
willing to venture out, and hazard a little for
the general good. But the history of human
nature is so contrary to all this, that almost all
improvements are made after the bitterest re-
sistance, and in the midst of tumults and civil
violence—the worst period at which they can be
made, compared to which any period is eligible,
and should be seized hold of by the friends of
salutary reform.—[E. R. 1825.]
SocIAI, ORDER.—Among the several cloudy
_-_


TUlit amo Uligöom 235
appellatives which have been commonly em-
ployed as cloaks for misgovernment, there is
none more conspicuous in this atmosphere of
illusion than the word Order. As often as any
measure is brought forward which has for its
object to lessen the sacrifice made by the many
to the few, social order is the phrase commonly
opposed to its progress.-[E. R. 1825.]
PRAISE OF DELINQUENTS.—It is the fashion
very much among the Tories of the House of
Commons, and all those who love the effects
of public liberty, without knowing or caring
how it is preserved, to attack every person who
complains of abuses, and to accuse him of gross
exaggeration. No sooner is the name of any
public thief, or of any tormentor, or oppressor,
mentioned in that Honorable House, than out
bursts the spirit of jobbing eulogium, and there
is not a virtue under heaven which is not as-
cribed to the delinquent in question, and
vouched for by the most irrefragable testi-
mony.—[E. R. 1821.]
NOODLE'S ORATION.—“What would our an-
cestors say to this, Sir P. How does this measure
tally with their institutions 2 How does it
agree with their experience? Are we to put
the wisdom of yesterday in competition with


236 $goney, 5mitb'g
the wisdom of centuries? (Hear, hear?) Is
beardless youth to show no respect for the de-
cisions of mature age 2 (Loud cries of Hear/
hear /) If this measure be right, would it have
escaped the wisdom of those Saxon progenitors
to whom we are indebted for so many of our
best political institutions? Would the Dane
have passed it over? Would the Norman have
rejected it? Would such a notable discovery
have been reserved for these modern and de-
generate times? Besides, Sir, if the measure
itself is good, I ask the honorable gentleman
if this is the time for carrying it into execution
—whether, in fact, a more unfortunate period
could have been selected than that which he
has chosen 2 If this were an ordinary measure,
I should not oppose it with so much vehemence;
but, Sir, it calls in question the wisdom of an
irrevocable law—of a law passed at the memo-
rable period of the Revolution. What right
have we, Sir, to break down this firm column,
on which the great men of that age stamped a
character of eternity ? Are not all authorities
against this measure—Pitt, Fox, Cicero, and the
Attorney and Solicitor General 2 The proposi-
tion is new, Sir ; it is the first time it was ever
heard in this House. I am not prepared, Sir-
this House is not prepared, to receive it. The
measure implies a distrust of his Majesty's gov-


"Clit and Uligöom 237
ernment; their disapproval is sufficient to war-
rant opposition. Precaution only is requisite
where danger is apprehended. Here the high *
character of the individuals in question is a suf-
ficient guaranty against any ground of alarm.
Give not, then, your sanction to this measure;
for, whatever be its character, if you do give
your sanction to it, the same man by whom this
is proposed will propose to you others to which
it will be impossible to give yonr consent. I
care very little, Sir, for the ostensible measure;
tout what is there behind 2 What are the hon-
orable gentleman’s future schemes 2 If we pass
this bill what fresh concessions may he not
require? What further degradation is he plan-
ning for his country? Talk of evil and incon-
venience, Sir look to other countries—study
other aggregations and societies of men, and
then see whether the laws of this country de-
mand a remedy or deserve a panegyric. Was
the honorable gentleman (let me ask him)
always of this way of thinking P Do I not re-
member when he was the advocate in this
House of very opposite opinions 2 I not only
quarrel with his present sentiments, Sir, but I
declare very frankly I do not like the party with
which he acts. If his own motives were as
pure as possible, they cannot but suffer contam-
ination from those with whom he is politically


238 $goney, 5mitb's
associated. This measure may be a boon to the
constitution, but I will accept no favor to the
constitution from such hands. (Loud cries of
Bear / hear /) I profess myself, Sir, an honest
and upright member of the British Parliament,
and I am not afraid to profess myself an enemy
to all change and all innovation. I am satisfied
with things as they are, and it will be my pride
and pleasure to hand down this country to my
children as I received it from those who pre-
ceded me. The honorable gentleman pretends
to justify the severity with which he has at-
tacked the Noble Lord who presides in the
Court of Chancery. But I say such attacks are
pregnant with mischief to Government itself.
Oppose Ministers, you oppose Government;
disgrace Ministers, you disgrace Government ;
bring Ministers into contempt, you bring Gov-
ernment into contempt; and anarchy and civil
war are the consequences. Besides, Sir, the
measure is unnecessary. Nobody complains of
disorder in that shape in which it is the aim of
your measure to propose a remedy to it. The
business is one of the greatest importance;
there is need of the greatest caution and cir-
cumspection. Do not let us be precipitate, Sir ;
it is impossible to foresee all consequences.
Every thing should be gradual ; the example
of a neighboring nation should fill us with


TUlit amo (Uligoom 239
alarm l The honorable gentleman has taxed
me with illiberality, Sir. I deny the charge. I
hate innovation, but I love improvement. I
am an enemy to the corruption of Government,
but I defend its influence. I dread reform, but
I dread it only when it is intemperate. I con-
sider the liberty of the press as the great Palla-
dium of the Constitution ; but at the same time,
I hold the licentiousness of the press in the
greatest abhorrence. Nobody is more conscious
than I am of the splendid abilities of the honora-
ble mover, but I tell him at once, his scheme is
too good to be practicable. It savors of Utopia.
It looks well in theory, but it wont do in prac-
tice. It will not do, I repeat, Sir, in practice;
and so the advocates of the measure will find,
if, unfortunately, it should find its way through
Parliament. (Cheers.) The source of that cor-
ruption to which the honorable member alludes
is in the minds of the people; so rank and ex-
tensive is that corruption, that no political
reform can have any effect in removing it. In-
stead of reforming others—instead of reforming
the State, the Constitution, and every thing
that is most excellent, let each man reform
himself! let him look at home; he will find
there enough to do without looking abroad, and
aiming at what is out of his power. (Loud
cheers.) And now, Sir, as it is frequently the


24O $goney, 5mitb'g
custom in this House to end with a quotation,
and as the gentleman who preceded Ine in the
debate has anticipated me in my favorite quo-
tation of the ‘Strong pull and the long pull,” I
shall end with the memorable words of the as-
sembled Barons—Nolumus leges Anglia mu-
tari.”—[E. R. 1825.]
THE RULE OF PUBLIC CONDUCT.—There is
only one principle of public conduct—Do zvhat
you think right, and take place and power as an
accident. Upon any other plan, office is shab-
biness, labor, and sorrow.—[Taunton Speech,
1832.]
ROTTEN BOROUGHS.—There happens, gentle-
men, to live near my parsonage a laboring man
of very superior character and understanding
to his fellow-laborers; and who has made such
good use of that superiority, that he has saved
what is (for his station in life) a very considera-
ble sum of money, and if his existence be ex-
tended to the common period, he will die rich.
It happens, however, that he is (and long has
been) troubled with violent stomachic pains, for
which he has hitherto obtained no relief, and
which really are the bane and torment of his
life. Now, if my excellent laborer were to send
for a physician, and to consult him respecting


(Clit and (Uligoom 24I
this malady, would it not be very singular lan-
guage if our doctor were to say to him, “My
good friend, you surely will not be so rash as to
attempt to get rid of these pains in your stom-
ach. Have you not grown rich with these pains
in your stomach 2 have you not risen under
them from poverty to prosperity ? has not your
situation, since you were first attacked, been
improving every year P You surely will not
be so foolish and so indiscreet as to part with
the pains in your stomach P "–Why, what
would be the answer of the rustic to this
nonsensical monition ? “Monster of Rhu-
barb (he would say) I am not rich in con-
sequence of the pains in my stomach, but in
spite of the pains in my stomach ; and I should
Have been ten times richer, and fifty times hap-
pier, if I had never had any pains in my stom-
ach at all.” Gentlemen, these rotten boroughs
are your pains in the stomach—and you would
have been a much richer and greater people if
you had never had them at all. Your wealth
and your power have been owing, not to the de-
based and corrupted parts of the House of Com-
mons, but to the many independent and honor-
able Members, whom it has always contained
within its walls. If there had been a few
more of these very valuable members for close
looroughs, we should, I verily believe, have been


242 $goney, 5mitb'g
by this time about as free as Denmark, Sweden,
or the Germanized States of Italy.—[Taunton
Speech, 1832.]
LET THEM ALONE. —All would be well, it is
urged, if they would but let the people alone.
But what chance is there, I demand of these
wise politicians, that the people will ever be 1et
alone; that the orator will lay down his craft,
and the demagogue forget his cunning 2 If
many things were let alone, which never will
be let alone, the aspect of human affairs would
be a little varied. If the winds would let the
waves alone there would be no storms. If gen-
tlemen would let ladies alone, there would be
no unhappy marriages, and deserted damsels.
If persons who can reason no better than this,
would leave speaking alone, the school of elo-
quence might be improved. I have little hopes,
however, of witnessing any of these acts of
forbearance, particularly the last, and so we
must (however foolish it may appear) proceed
to make laws for a people who we are sure will
not be let alone.—[Taunton Speech, 1832.]
THE NATIVE SOII, of ELoquENCE.-I have
always found that all things, moral or physical,
grow in the soil best suited to them. Show me
a deep and tenacious earth—and I am sure the


TUlit amo (Uligoom 243
oak will spring up in it. In a low and damp
soil I am equally certain of the alder and the
willow. Gentlemen, the free Parliament of a
free People is the native soil of eloquence—and
in that soil will it ever flourish and abound—
there it will produce those intellectual effects
which drive before them whole tribes and na-
tions of the human race, and settle the destinies
of man.—[Taunton Speech, 1832.]
PoPULAR MISTAKES.—The people are some-
times, it is urged, grossly mistaken; but are
Kings never mistaken 2 Are the higher orders
never mistaken 2–never wilfully corrupted by
their own interests 2 The people have at least
this superiority, that they always intend to do
what is right.—[Taunton Speech, 1832.]
PROTECTION TO HIGHWAYMEN.—When I was
a young man, the place in England I remember
as most notorious for highwaymen and their
exploits was Finchley Common, near the me-
tropolis; but Finchley Common, gentlemen, in
the progress of improvement, came to be en-
closed, and the highwaymen lost by these
means the opportunity of exercising their
gallant vocation. I remember a friend of mine
proposed to draw up for them a petition to the
House of Commons for compensation, which


244 5goney, 5mitb's
ran in this manner—“We, your loyal highway-
men of Finchley Common and its neighbor-
hood, having, at a great expense, laid in a stock
oi blunderbusses, pistols, and other instruments
for plundering the public, and finding ourselves
impeded in the exercise of our calling by the
said enclosure of the said Common of Finchley,
humbly petition your Honorable House will be
pleased to assign to us such compensation as
your Honorable House in its wisdom and jus-
tice may think fit.”—Gentlemen, I must leave
the application to you. — [Taunton Speech,
1832.]
MRS. PARTINGTON.—I do not mean to be dis-
respectful, but the attempt of the Lords to stop
the progress of reform, reminds me very forci-
bly of the great storm of Sidmouth, and of the
conduct of the excellent Mrs. Partington on
that occasion. In the winter of 1824, there set
in a great flood upon that town—the tide rose
to an incredible height—the waves rushed in
upon the houses, and every thing was threat-
ened with destruction . In the midst of this
sublime and terrible storm, Dame Partington,
who lived upon the beach, was seen at the door
of her house with mop and pattens, trundling
her mop, squeezing out the sea water, and vig-
orously pushing away the Atlantic Ocean. The


TUIft and Uligoom 245
Atlantic was roused. Mrs. Partington’s spirit
was up; but I need not tell you that the contest
was unequal. The Atlantic Ocean beat Mrs.
Partington. She was excellent at a slop, or a
puddle, but she should not have meddled with a
tempest. Gentlemen, be at your ease—be quiet
and steady. You will beat Mrs. Partington.—
[Taunton Speech, 1832.]
Borough-MONGERING.-The thing I cannot,
and will not bear, is this : What right has this
Lord, or that Marquis, to buy ten seats in Par-
liament, in the shape of Boroughs, and then to
make laws to govern me? And how are these
masses of power re-distributed 2 The eldest son
of my Lord is just come from Eton—he knows
a good deal about AEneas and Dido, Apollo and
Daphne—and that is all; and to this boy his
father gives a six-hundredth part of the power
of making laws, as he would give him a horse
or a double-barrelled gun. Then Vellum, the
steward, is put in—an admirable man ; he has
raised the estates : watched the progress of the
family Road and Canal Bills—and Vellum shall
help to rule over the people of Israel. A neigh-
boring country gentleman, Mr. Plumpkin, hunts
with my Lord—opens him a gate or two, while
the hounds are running—dines with my Lord—
agrees with my Lord—wishes he could rival the


248 $goney, 5mitb’s
all, look to the Northern Earl, victim, before
this honest and manly reign, of the spitefulness
of the Court. You may now, for the first time,
learn to trust in the professions of a Minister;
you are directed by a man who prefers character
to place, and who has given such unequivocal
proofs of honesty and patriotism, that his image
ought to be amongst your household gods, and
his name to be lisped by your children: two
thousand years hence it will be a legend like
the fable of Perseus and Andromeda; Britannia
chained to a mountain—two hundred rotten
animals menacing her destruction, till a tall
Earl, armed with Schedule A., and followed by
his page Russell, drives them into the deep,
and delivers over Britannia in safety to crowds
of ten-pound renters, who deafen the air with
their acclamations. Forthwith, Latin verses
upon this—school exercises—boys whipt, and
all the usual absurdities of education. Don't
part with the Administration composed of Lord
Grey and Lord Brougham ; and not only these,
but look at them all—the mild wisdom of
Lansdowne—the genius and extensive knowl-
edge of Holland, in whose bold and honest life
there is no varying nor shadow of change—the
unexpected and exemplary activity of Lord
Melbourne—and the rising parliamentary tal-
ents of Stanley. You are ignorant of your best


TCUlit and UÇligoom 249
interests, if every vote you can bestow is not
given to such a ministry as this.-[Taunton
Speech, 1832.]
A DoSE IN TIME.-All former political
changes, proposed by these very men, it is
said, were mild and gentle, compared to this :
true, but are you on Saturday night to seize
your apothecary by the throat, and to say to
him : “Subtle compounder, fraudulent posolo-
gist, did not you order me a drachm of this
medicine on Monday morning, and now you
declare that nothing short of an ounce can do
me any good?” “True enough,” would he of
the phials reply; “but you did not take the
drachm on Monday morning—that makes all
the difference, my dear Sir ; if you had done as
I advised you at first, the small quantity of
medicine would have sufficed ; and, instead of
being in a night-gown and slippers up stairs,
you would have been walking vigorously in
Piccadilly. Do as you please—and die if you
please; but don’t blame me because you des-
pised my advice, and by your own ignorance
and obstinacy have entailed upon yourself
tenfold rhubarb and unlimited infusion of
senna.”—[Taunton Speech, 1832.]
THE REFORMED HOUSE OF COMMONS.—The


250 $goney, 5mitb's
majority of the new Members will be landed
gentlemen: their genus is utterly distinct from
the revolutionary tribe; they have Molar teeth ;
they are destitute of the carnivorous and
incisive jaws of political adventurers.
There will be mistakes at first, as there are in
all changes. All young ladies will imagine (as
soon as this Bill is carried) that they will be
instantly married. Schoolboys believe that
Gerunds and Supines will be abolished, and
Currant Tarts must ultimately come down in
price; the Corporal and Sergeant are sure of
double pay; bad Poets will expect a demand
for their Epics; Fools will be disappointed, as
they always are; reasonable men, who know
what to expect, will find that a very serious
good has been obtained.—[Taunton Speech,
1832.]
RESULTs of REFORM.–If peace, economy,
and justice, are the results of Reform, a number
of small benefits, or rather of benefits which
appear small to us, but not to them, will accrue
to millions of the people; and the connection
between the existence of John Russell, and the
reduced price of bread and cheese, will be as
clear as it has been the object of his honest,
wise, and useful life to make it.—[Taunton
Speech, 1832.]


252 $goney, 5mitb’s
have no doubt that it may be accomplished. In
Mr. Grote's dagger ballot-box, which has been
carried round the country by eminent patriots,
you stab the card of your favorite candidate
with a dagger. I have seen another, called a
mouse-trap ballot-box, in which you poke your
finger into the trap of the member you prefer,
and are caught and detained till the trap-clerk
below (who knows by means of a wire when
you are caught) marks your vote, pulls the
liberator, and releases you. Which may be
the most eligible of these two methods I do
not pretend to determine, nor do I think my
excellent friend Mr. Baggage has as yet made
up his mind on the subject; but, by some
means or another, I have no doubt the thing
may be done.—[Letter on the Ballot.]
ODIUM of UNDUE INFLUENCE.-I distinctly
admit that every man has a right to do what he
pleases with his own. I cannot, by law, pre-
vent any one from discharging his tenants, and
changing his tradesmen, for political reasons;
but I may judge whether that man exercises his
right to the public detriment, or for the public
advantage. A man has a right to refuse dealing
with any tradesman who is not five feet eleven
inches high; but if he act upon this rule, he is
either a madman or a fool. He has a right to


TCUlit amo (Uligoom
lay waste his own estate, and to make it
barren; but I have also a right to point
as one who exercises his right in a manner very
injurious to society. He may set up a religious
or a political test for his tradesmen ; but admit-
ting his right, and deprecating all interference
with law, I must tell him he is making the aris-
tocracy odious to the great mass, and that he is
sowing the seeds of revolution. His purse may
be full, and his fields may be wide; but the
moralist will still hold the rod of public opinion
over his head, and tell the money-bloated block-
head that he is shaking those laws of property
which it has taken ages to extort from the
wretchedness and rapacity of mankind; and
that what he calls his own will not long be his
own, if he tramples too heavily on human pa-
tience.—[Letter on the Ballot.]
THE PLOUGH AND THE LOOM.–The plough
is not a political machine : the loom and the
steam-engine are furiously political, but the
plough is not.—[Letter on the Ballot.]
INTIMIDATION BY MOBS.—Is intimidation
confined to the aristocracy P Can any thing be
more scandalous and atrocious than the intimi-
dation of mobs P Did not the mob of Bristol
occasion more ruin, wretchedness, death, and
i -


254 $goney, 5mitb's
alarm than all the ejection of tenants, and com-
binations against shopkeepers, from the begin-
ning of the century? and did not the Scotch
philosophers tear off the clothes of the Tories
in Mintoshire 2 or at least such clothes as the
customs of the country admit of being worn ?—
and did not they, without any reflection at all
upon the customs of the country, wash the
Tory voters in the river?—[Letter on the Ballot.]
RULE OF THE MANY BY THE DEFECTS OF
THE FEw.—It is really a curious condition that
all men must imitate the defects of a few, in
order that it may not be known who have the
natural imperfection, and who put it on from
conformity. In this way in former days, to
hide the grey hairs of the old, everybody was
forced to wear powder pomatum.—[Letter on
the Ballot.]
THE TIMES OF LOG.-There is no end to these
eternal changes; we have made an enormous
revolution within the last ten years—let us stop
a little and secure it, and prevent it from being
turned into ruin ; I do not say the Reform Bill
is final, but I want a little time for breathing;
and if there are to be any more changes, let
them be carried into execution hereafter by
those little legislators who are now receiving


Túlit amo (Uligöom 255
every day after dinner a cake or a plum, in
happy ignorance of Mr. Grote and his ballot.
I long for the quiet times of Log when all the
English common people are making calico, and
all the English gentlemen are making long and
short verses, with no other interruption of their
happiness than when false quantities are dis-
covered in one or the other.—[Letter on the
Pallot.]
SystEMATIC DISSIMULATION.—The single lie
on the hustings would not suffice; the concealed
democrat who voted against his landlord must
talk with the wrong people, subscribe to the
wrong club, huzza at the wrong dinner, break
the wrong head, lead (if he wish to escape from
the watchful jealousy of his landlord) a long
life of lies between every election; and he must
do this, not only eundo in his calm and pru-
dential state, but redeundo from the market,
warmed with beer, and expanded by alcohol;
and he must not only carry on his seven years
of dissimulation before the world, but in the
very bosom of his family, or he must expose
himself to the dangerous garrulity of wife,
children, and servants, from whose indiscretion
every kind of evil report would be carried to
the ears of the watchful steward.—[Letter on
the Ballot.]


256 5poney Smitb’s
A BALLOT Mob.-The noise and jollity of a
ballot mob must be such as the very devils
would look on with delight. A set of deceitful
wretches wearing the wrong colors, abusing
their friends, pelting the man for whom they
voted, drinking their enemies' punch, knock-
ing down persons with whom they entirely
agreed, and roaring out eternal duration to
principles they abhorred. A scene of whole-
sale bacchanalian fraud, a posse comitatus of
liars, which would disgust any man with a free
government, and make him sigh for the mo-
nocacy of Constantinople.—[Letters on the
Ballot.]
INTIMIDATION BY THE MULTITUDE.—A state
of things may (to be sure) occur where the
aristocratic part of the voters may be desirous,
by concealing their votes, of protecting them-
selves from the fury of the multitude; but pre-
cisely the same objection obtains against ballot,
whoever may be the oppressor or the oppressed.
It is no defence; the single falsehood at the
hustings will not suffice. Hypocrisy for seven
years is impossible: the multitude will be just
as jealous of preserving the power of intimida-
tion, as aristocrats are of preserving the power
of property, and will in the same way redouble
their vicious activity from the attempt at de-
-.


258 $vomey 5mitb’s
gins, having also sold, for one sovereign, the
vote of the before-named Arabella to the Whigs.
Mr. John Wiggins, a tailor, the male progeny
of Walter and Arabella, at the solicitation of
his master promises his vote to the Whigs, and
persuades his sister Honoria to make a similar
promise in the same cause. Arabella, the wife,
yields implicitly to the wishes of her husband.
In this way, before the election, stand commit-
ted the highly moral family of Mr. Wiggins.
The period for lying arrives, and the mendacity
machine is exhibited to the view of the Wig-
ginses, What happens 2 Arabella, who has in
the interim been chastised by her drunken hus-
band, votes secretly for the Radicals, having
been sold both to Whig and Tory. Mr. John
Wiggins, pledged beyond redemption to Whigs,
votes for the Tory; and Honoria, extrinsically
furious in the cause of Whigs, is persuaded by
her lover to vote for the Radical member. The
following table exhibits the state of this moral
family before and after the election :
Walter Wiggins sells himself once and his wife twice.
Arabella Wiggins, sold to Tory and Whig, votes for
Radical.
John Wiggins, promised to Whig, votes for Tory.
Honoria Wiggins, promised to Whig votes for Radical.
[Letter on the Ballot.]
- BALLot AN ILLUSION.—Ballot is a mere illu-
_-


TUlit amo (Uligoom 259
sion, but universal suffrage is not an illusion.
The common people will get nothing by the
one, but they will gain every thing and ruin
every thing by the last.—[Letter on the Ballot.]
STRONG Box v. BALLOT Box.—But it is mad-
ness to make laws of society which attempt to
shake off the great laws of nature. As long as
men love bread, and mutton, and broadcloth,
wealth, in a long series of years, must have
enormous effects upon human affairs, and the
strong box will beat the ballot box. —[Letter on
the Ballot.]
PATH AND No PATH.”—To say there is no
path because we have often got into the wrong
path, puts an end to all other knowledge, as
well as to this.
ERROR MINGLED witH TRUTH.—Errors, to
be dangerous, must have a great deal of truth
mingled with them; it is only from this alliance
that they can ever obtain an extensive circula-
tion ; from pure extravagance, and genuine,
unmingled falsehood, the world never has, and
never can sustain any mischief.
* This and the following passages are from the Lec-
tures on “Moral Philosophy,” delivered by Mr. Sydney
Smith at the Royal Institution in 1804, 1805, and 1806,


260 5poney, 5mitb’s
THE GREAT STREAM OF NATURE.-If you will
build an error upon some foundation of truth,
you may effect your object; you may divert a
little rivulet from the great stream of nature,
and train it cautiously and obliquely away; but
if you place yourself in the very depth of her
almighty channel and combat with her eternal
streams, you will be swept off without ruffling the
smoothness or impeding the vigor of her course.
No REAL RESULTS OF SKEPTICISM.–Bishop
Berkeley destroyed this world in one volume
octavo ; and nothing remained after his time
but mind, which experienced a similar fate from
the hand of Mr. Hume in 1737 :—so that, with
all the tendency to destroy, there remains noth-
ing left for destruction ; but I would fain ask
if there be any one human being, from the
days of Protagoras the Abdérite to this present
hour, who was ever for a single instant a con-
vert to these subtle and ingenious follies 2 Is
there any one out of Bedlam who doubts of the
existence of matter? who doubts of his own
personal identity? or of his consciousness? or
of the general credibility of memory 2 Men
talk on such subjects from ostentation, or be-
cause such wire-drawn speculations are an
agreeable exercise to them ; but they are per-
petually recalled by the necessary business and
_ _-


"Clit amo (Uligoom 26I
the inevitable feelings of life to sound and sober
opinions on these subjects.
THE MORAL EVIDENCE OF A CREATOR.—The
school of natural religion is the contemplation
of nature; the ancient anatomist who was an
atheist, was converted by the study of the
human body: he thought it impossible that
so many admirable contrivances should exist,
without an intelligent cause –and if men can
become religious from looking at an entrail, or
a nerve, can they be taught atheism from ana-
lyzing the structure of the human mind? Are
not the affections and passions which shake the
very entrails of man, and the thoughts and
feelings which dart along those nerves, more
indicative of a God than the vile perishing
instruments themselves? Can you remember
the nourishment which springs up in the breast
of a mother, and forget the feelings which
spring up in her heart 2 If God made the
blood of man, did he not make that feeling,
which summons the blood to his face, and
Inakes it the sign of guilt and of shame? You
may show me a human hand, expatiate upon
the singular contrivance of its sinews, and
bones; how admirable, how useful, for all the
purposes of grasp, and flexure: I will show
you, in return, the mind, receiving her tribute


262 5goney, 5mitb's
from the senses;–comparing, reflecting, com-
pounding, dividing, abstracting;-the passions
soothing, aspiring, exciting, till the whole
world falls under the dominion of man ;
evincing that in his mind the Creator has
reared up the noblest emblem of his wisdom,
and his power. The philosophy of the human
mind is no school for infidelity, but it excites
the warmest feelings of piety, and defends them
with the soundest reason.
NO GENERAL DISCOVERIES IN MORAL PHI-
Losophy.—Some very considerable men are
accustomed to hold very strong and sanguine
language respecting the important discoveries
which are to be made in Moral Philosophy,
from a close attention to facts; and by that
method of induction which has been so in-
valuably employed in Natural Philosophy: but
then this appears to be the difference;—that
Natural Philosophy is directed to subjects with
which we are little or imperfectly acquainted;
Moral Philosophy investigates faculties we have
always exercised, and passions we have always
felt. Chemistry, for instance, is perpetually
bringing to light fresh existences; four or five
new metals have been discovered within as
many years, of the existence of which no hu-
man being could have had any suspicion, but
__


264 5goney 5mitb'g
understanding, a variety of delicate rules which
can result only from such sort of meditation :
and it gradually subjects the most impetuous
feelings to patient examination and wise con-
trol; it inures the youthful mind to intellectual
difficulty, and to enterprise in thinking; and
makes it as keen as an eagle, and as unwearied
as the wing of an angel. In looking round the
region of spirit, from the mind of the brute and
the reptile, to the sublimest exertions of the
human understanding, this philosophy lays
deep the foundations of a fervent and grateful
piety, for those intellectual riches which have
been dealt out to us with no scanty measure.
With sensation alone, we might have possessed
the earth, as it is possessed by the lowest order
of beings; but we have talents which bend all
the laws of nature to our service; memory for
the past, providence for the future, senses
which mingle pleasure with intelligence, the
surprise of novelty, the boundless energy of
imagination, accuracy in comparing, and se-
verity in judging ; an original affection, which
binds us together in society; a swiftness to
pity; a fear of shame; a love of esteem ; a
detestation of all that is cruel, mean, and un-
just. All these things Moral Philosophy ob-
serves, and, observing, adores the Being from
whence they proceed.
_-


TUIft amo (Uligoom 265
PHILOSOPHY OF SocRATES.—The morality of
Socrates was reared upon the basis of religion.
The principles of virtuous conduct which are
common to all mankind, are, according to this
wise and good man, laws of God; and the argu-
Inent by which he supports this opinion is, that
no man departs from these principles with im-
punity. “It is frequently possible,” says he,
“for men to screen themselves from the penalty
of human laws, but no man can be unjust or
ungrateful without suffering for his crime—
hence I conclude that these laws must have
proceeded from a more excellent legislator than
man.” Socrates taught that true felicity is not
to be derived from external possessions, but from
wisdom; which consists in the knowledge and
practice of virtue;—that the cultivation of vir-
tuous manners is necessarily attended with
pleasure as well as profit;-that the honest man
alone is happy; and that it is absurd to attempt
to separate things which are in their nature so
united as virtue and interest.
Socrates was, in truth, not very fond of subtle
and refined speculations; and upon the intel-
lectual part of our nature, little or nothing of
his opinions is recorded. If we may infer any
thing from the clearness and simplicity of his
opinions on moral subjects, and from the bent
which his genius had received from the useful


266 5poneg $mitb's
and the practical, he would certainly have laid
a strong foundation for rational metaphysics.
The slight sketch I have given of his moral
doctrines contains nothing very new or very
brilliant, but comprehends those moral doc-
trines which every person of education has
been accustomed to hear from his childhood ;-
but two thousand years ago they were great dis-
coveries, two thousand years since, common
sense was not invented. If Orpheus, or Linus,
or any of those melodious moralists, sung, in
bad verses, such advice as a grandmamma
would now give to a child of six years old, he
was thought to be inspired by the gods, and
statues and altars were erected to his memory.
In Hesiod there is a very grave exhortation to
mankind to wash their faces: and I have dis-
covered a very strong analogy between the pre-
cepts of Pythagoras and Mrs. Trimmer;-both
think that a son ought to obey his father, and
both are clear that a good man is better than a
bad one. Therefore, to measure aright this ex-
traordinary man, we must remember the period
at which he lived ; that he was the first who
called the attention of mankind from the per-
nicious subtleties which engaged and perplexed
their wandering understandings to the practical
rules of life;—he was the great father and in-
ventor of common sense, as Ceres was of the


TUlit anº) (Oligoom 267
plough, and Bacchus of intoxication. First
he taught his contemporaries that they did not
Rnow what they pretended to know ; then he
showed them that they knew nothing; then he
told them what they ought to know. Lastly,
to sum up the praise of Socrates, remember
that two thousand years ago, while men were
worshipping the stones on which they trod, and
the insects which crawled beneath their feet;-
two thousand years ago, with the bowl of poison
in his hand, Socrates said: “I am persuaded
that my death, which is now just coming, will
conduct me into the presence of the gods, who
are the most righteous governors, and into the
society of just and good men; and I derive con-
fidence from the hope that something of man
remains after death, and that the condition of
good men will then be much better than that
of the bad.” Soon after this he covered himself
up with his cloak and expired.
PLATO.-Of all the disciples of Socrates, Plato,
though he calls himself the least, was certainly
the most celebrated. As long as philosophy
continued to be studied among the Greeks and
Romans, his doctrines were taught and his
name revered. Even to the present day his
writings give a tinge to the language and
speculations of philosophy and theology. Of


268 5poneg Smitb's
the majestic beauty of Plato's style, it is almost
impossible to convey an adequate idea. He
keeps the understanding up to a high pitch of
enthusiasm longer than any existing writer;
and, in reading Plato, zeal and animation seem
rather to be the regular feelings than the casual
effervescence of the mind. He appears almost
disdaining the mutability and imperfection of
the earth on which he treads, to be drawing
down fire from heaven, and to be seeking
among the gods above, for the permanent, the
beautiful, and the grand 1
ARISTOTLE.-Whoever is fond of the bio-
graphical art, as a repository of the actions and
the fortunes of great men, may enjoy an agree-
able specimen of its certainty in the life of
Aristotle. Some writers say he was a Jew,
others, that he got all his information from a
Jew ; that he kept an apothecary’s shop, and
was an atheist; others say, on the contrary,
that he did not keep an apothecary’s shop, and
that he was a Trinitarian. Some say he re-
spected the religion of his country; others that
he offered sacrifices to his wife, and made
hymns in favor of his father-in-law. Some are
of opinion he was poisoned by the priests;
others are clear that he died of vexation, be-
cause he could not discover the causes of the
_-



270 5pbner Smitb's
increase of Hernan happiness, it extorts from us
fresh tributes of praise to the guide and father
of true philosophy. To the understanding of
Aristotle, equally vast perhaps, and equally
original, we are indebted for fifteen hundred
years of quibbling and ignorance; in which
the earth fell under the tyranny of words, and
philosophers quarrelled with one another, like
drunken men in dark rooms who hate peace
without knowing why they fight, or seeing how
to take aim. Professors were multiplied with-
out the world becoming wiser; and volumes of
Aristotelian philosophy were written which, if
piled one upon another, would have equalled
the Tower of Babel in height, and far exceeded
it in confusion. Such are the obligations we
owe to the mighty Stagirite; for that he was
of very mighty understanding, the broad cir-
cumference and the deep root of his philosophy
most lamentably evince.
THE FRIENDSHIP of PHILOSOPHERS.—The
friendship of the Epicurean sect is described by
Cicero, in his treatise “De Finibus,” as unex-
ampled in the history of human attachments;
and Valerius Maximus relates a memorable
example of friendship between Polycrates and
Hippoclides, two disciples of this sect. It is
impossible, however, to receive these accounts


TUlit and Ulfgoom 271
without some sort of mistrust. A set of grami-
nivorous metaphysicians living together in a
garden, and employing their whole time in acts
of benevolence towards each other, carries with
it such an air of romance, that I am afraid it
must be considerably lowered, and rendered
more tasteless, before it can be brought down
to the standard of credibility and the probabili-
ties of real life. At least we may be tolerably
sure, that if half a dozen metaphysicians, such
as metaphysicians are in these modern days,
were to live in a garden in Battersea or Kew,
that their friendship would not be of very long
duration ; and their learned labors would prob-
ably be interrupted by the same reasons which
prevented Reaumur's spiders from spinning,
they fabricated a very beautiful and subtle
thread, but, unfortunately, they were so ex-
tremely fond of fighting, that it was impossible
to keep them together in the same place.
THE PRINCIPLE OF PITY. —I learn what pain
is in another man by knowing what it is in my-
self; but I might know this without feeling the
pity. I might have been so constituted as to re-
joice that another man was in agony; how can
you prove that my own aversion to pain must
necessarily make me feel for the pain of an-
other? I have a great horror of breaking my


272 $goney, $mitb'3
own leg, and I will avoid it by all means in my
power; but it does not necessarily follow from
thence that I should be struck with horror be-
cause you have broken yours. The reason why
we do feel horror, is, that nature has superadded
to these two principles of Epicurus the princi-
ple of pity; which, unless it can be shown by
stronger arguments to be derived from any
other feeling, must stand as an ultimate fact in
Our nature.
PERSONAL IDENTITY. —All that skeptics have
said of the outer and the inner world may, with
equal justice, be applied to every other radical
truth. Who can prove his own personal iden-
tity ? A man may think himself a clergyman,
and believe he has preached for these ten years
last past; but I defy him to offer any sort of
proof that he has not been a fishmonger all the
time.
RELATION IF NOT REALITY.—The skeptics
may call the philosophy of the human mind
merely hypothetical ; but if it be so, all other
knowledge must of course be hypothetical also;
and if it be so, and all is erroneous, it will do
quite as well as reality, if we keep up a certain
proportion in our errors: for there may be no
such things as lunar tables, no sea, and no


TUlit allo UligöOm 273
ships; but, by falling into one of these errors
after the other, we avoid shipwreck, or, what is
the same thing, as it gives the same pain, the
idea of shipwreck. So with the philosophy of
the human mind; I may have no memory, and
no imagination,-they may be mistakes ; but
if I cultivate them both I derive honor and re-
spect from my fellow-creatures, which may be
mistakes also ; but they harmonize so well to-
gether, that they are quite as good as realities.
The only evil of error is, that they are never
supported by consequences; if they were, they
would be as good as realities.
SIR JAMES MACKINTOSH AND DUGALD STEw-
ART.-May I be allowed to introduce the names
of two gentlemen now living, to one of whom
the world may fairly look for no common im-
provement of this science, and from the other
of whom it has already received it: I mean Sir
James Mackintosh and Mr. Dugald Stewart. In
my expectations from the first of these gentle-
men, those will not think I am too sanguine
who have witnessed the circumference, the or-
der, and the connection of his knowledge, his
zeal in prosecuting it, his perspicuity in detail-
ing it, and that extraordinary mixture of enter-
prise and judgment which makes him as new
and original as he is judicious and safe. Of the


27.4 $ponep 5mitb’g
latter gentleman, if I am not misled by the sua-
vity of his manners, the spotless integrity of his
life, and the marvellous effects of that eloquence
to which many others here can bear witness as
well as myself, if all these circumstances do
not mislead me, I think I may say that never
any man has taken up the science of the human
mind with such striking and comprehensive
views of man's nature. You begin with think-
ing you are taking up a curious, yet barren,
speculation ; and you find it, under the mas-
terly hand of this writer, gradually unfolding
itself into a wide survey of passions, motives,
and faculties, made in chaste language, watched
over with correct taste, and adorned with beau-
tiful illustrations. He is ever drawing from
those discussions which, in the hands of com-
mon men, are mere scholastic subtleties, prin-
ciples useful in the conduct of life, and valuable
for the improvement of the understanding. He
is the first writer who ever carried a feeling
heart and a creative fancy into the depth of
these abstract sciences, without rendering them
a mass of declamatory confusion. He has not
rendered his metaphysics dry and disgusting,
like Reid; he has not involved them in lofty
obscurity, like Plato; nor has he poisoned them
with impiety, like Hume. Above all, he has
that invaluable talent of inspiring the young
_-


276 $goney, 5mitb'3
plied it only to the promotion of human happi-
ness, who have disdained paradox and impi-
ety, and coveted no other fame than that which
was founded upon the modest investigation of
truth, such men have sprung from this coun-
try, and have shed upon it the everlasting lustre
of their names. Descartes has perished, Leib-
nitz is fading away; but Bacon, and Locke, and
Newton remain, as the Danube and the Alps
remain :-the learned examine them, and the
ignorant, who forget lesser streams and hum-
bler hills, remember them as the glories and
prominences of the world. And let us never,
in thinking of perpetuity and duration, confine
that notion to the physical works of nature, and
forget the eternity of fame! God has shown his
power in the stars and the firmament, in the
aged hills and in the perpetual streams; but he
has shown it as much in the minds of the
greatest of human beings | Homer and Virgil
and Milton, and Locke and Bacon and Newton,
are as great as the hills and the streams; and
endure till heaven and earth shall pass away,
and the whole fabric of nature is shaken into
dissolution and eternal ashes.
THE ENGLISH CHARACTER.—I have a bound-
less confidence in the English character; I
believe that they have more real religion, more


278 $goney, 5mitb'g
which in their nature are not capable of
eloquence, and in which all ornament would be
impertinent and misplaced. I think I have
observed, that the ornaments called for here
are established facts and fair reasonings; and
that the object for which both sexes pass an
hour in this place is, to hear the investigations
of some important subject, made with some care,
and conducted without any pretence. With-
out offering, therefore, any other apology in
future, for the dryness and barrenness of the
subject, but trusting to the candor and good
sense of those who hear me, I shall at once
proceed upon my subject.
LIFE OF SOCIETY.—Nothing can be plainer
than that a life of society is unfavorable to all
the animal powers of man.
CIVILIZED AND SAVAGE MAN.—A Choctaw
could run from here to Oxford without stop-
ping : I go in the mail coach ; and the time
that the savage has been employed in learning
to run so far, I have employed in something
else. It would not only be useless in me to run
like a Choctaw, but foolish and disgraceful.
SIGHT.-The author of the book of Ecclesias-
tes has told us “that the light is sweet, that it


TÜlit ano (Uligoom 279
is a pleasant thing for the eyes to behold the
sun.” The sense of sight is indeed the highest
bodily privilege, the purest physical pleasure,
which man has derived from his Creator. To
see that wandering fire, after he has finished
his journey through the nations, coming back
to his eastern heavens, the mountains painted
with light, the floating splendor of the sea, the
earth waking ſrom deep slumber, the day
flowing down the sides of the hills till it reaches
the secret valleys, the little insects recalled to
life, the bird trying her wings, man going forth
to his labor—each created being moving, think-
ing, acting, contriving, according to the scheme
and compass of its nature, by force, by cunning,
by reason, by necessity. Is it possible to joy
in this animated scene, and feel no pity for
the sons of darkness? for the eyes that will
never see light? the poor clouded in everlast-
ing gloom? If you ask me why they are
miserable and dejected, I turn you to the
plentiful valleys; to the fields now bringing
forth their increase; to the freshness and the
flowers of the earth; to the endless variety of
its colors; to the grace, the symmetry, the
shape of all it cherishes and all it bears; these
you have forgotten, because you have always
enjoyed them : but these are the means by
which God Almighty makes man what he is—


28o 5goney 5mitb'3
cheerful, lively, erect, full of enterprise, muta-
ble, glancing from heaven to earth, prone to
labor and to act. Why was not the earth left
without form and void 2 Why was not darkness
suffered to remain on the face of the deep P
Why did God place lights in the firmament, for
days, for seasons, for signs, and for years?
That He might make man the happiest of
creative beings; that He might give to this His
favorite creation a widerscope, a more permanent
duration, a richer diversity of joy. This is the
reason why the blind are miserable and dejected
—because their soul is mutilated, and dismem-
bered of its best sense—because they are a
1aughter and a ruin, and the boys in the streets
mock at their stumbling feet.—[Memoir.]
READING BY SCENT.—It seems, at first sight,
very singular that a blind child should be
taught to read; but observe what the common
process is with every child; a child sees certain
marks upon a plain piece of paper, which he is
taught to call A, B, C ; but if you were to raise
certain marks in relief upon pasteboard, as you
may of course do, and teach a blind child to
call these marks which he felt A, B, C, a blind
child would as easily learn his alphabet by his
fingers as another would do by his eyes, and
might go on feeling through Homer or Virgil


'UUlit amo (Oligoom 281
as we do by persevering in looking at the
book. Just in the same manner, I should not
be surprised if the alphabet could be taught by
a series of well-contrived flavors; and we may
even live to see the day when men may be
taught to smell out their learning, and when a
fine scenting day shall be (which it certainly is
not at present) considered as a day peculiarly
favorable to study.
CoNNECTION OF THE SENSES.–A curious
question may be agitated as to the resemblance
of the senses to each other. All the ideas of
seeing bear a resemblance to each ether, and all
of hearing, and so forth ; or do we only conceive
them to resemble each other because they enter
the mind by the same channel? Is there any
more resemblance in the taste of vinegar and
the taste of a peach, than there is between the
taste of vinegar and the sound of an AEolian
harp 2 I am very much inclined to think there
is not; and that the only reason of supposing a
resemblance is, that they affect the same organ.
I believe there is a much greater analogy
between those ideas of every sense which pro-
duce a similar tone of mind, whether of excite-
ment, or soothing, or dislike, or horror, than
there is between ideas of the same sense which
stand in very different degrees of favor with the


282 $goney 5mitb'3
mind. The resemblance seems to be much
more intimate between soft sounds, fragrant
smells, smooth surfaces, pleasant tastes, and
refreshing colors, than between soft sounds and
horrible crashes, smooth surfaces and lacerating
inequalities, pleasant tastes and caustic bitter-
ness, refreshing color and sable gloom.
MADNESS.—A madman has the conception
of all the pageantry of a court, and so may any
man in his senses; the difference is, the one
knows it to be only a creation of his mind, the
other believes he sees dukes, and marquises,
and all the splendor of a real court. If he is
not very far gone, he pays some attention to the
objects of sense about him, and tells you that
he is confined in this sorry situation by the per-
fidy and rebellion of his subjects. As the disease
further advances, he totally neglects the objects
of his senses;–does not see that he sleeps on
straw and is chained down, but abandons him-
self wholly to the creations of his mind, and
riots in every extravagance of thought.
TEST of REASON.—Sense and nonsense, con-
gruity and incongruity, are only determined by
the outer world; and we consider our concep-
tions to be wild or rational only as they corres-
pond with it.
2-
º -


(Ulſt and Uligö0m 285
physician's prescription in his pocket, which
He could take and recover from, as I would say
that a man had knowledge who had no other
proof of it to afford, than a pile of closely-
written commonplace books.
IMPRoveMENT BY HABIT.-Imagination of
all sorts, though originally dealt out with very
different degrees of profusion to different men,
is capable of great improvement from habit.
As great part of imagination depends upon
association, and the power of association always
increases with practice, men acquire extraordi-
nary command over particular classes of ideas,
and are supplied with copiousness of materials
for their collection, to which inexperienced and
unpractised minds can never attain. What a
prodigious command, for instance, over all
those associations which are productive of wit,
must the head wit of such a city as this or Paris
have acquired in twenty years of facetiousness,
—having been accustomed, for that space of
time, to view all the characters and events
which have fallen under his notice with a
reference to these relations ! What an enor-
mous power of versification must Pope have
gained, after his translations of the Iliad and
the Odyssey ! so that no combination of words
or inflection of sounds could possibly have been


286 5poneg 5mitb'g
new to him ; and he must have almost medi-
tated in hexameters, and conversed in rhyme.
What a powerful human being must that man
become who, beginning with original talents,
has been accustomed, for half his life, to the
eloquence of the bar or the Senate | No combi-
nation of circumstances can come before him
for which he is unprepared ; he is always
ready for every purpose of defence and attack;
and trusts, with the most implicit confidence,
to that host of words and images which he
1<nows from long experience will rise up at any
moment of exigence for his ornament and
support.
THE CONCORD OF TRUTH.—If a question be
discussed coolly, if the parties have no other
interest in its termination but that of truth, if
they thoroughly understand the terms they
employ, if they are well informed upon the
relative facts, and if they are, both, in the habit
of guarding against accidental associations, the
conclusions in which they terminate will proba-
bly be the same : there is hardly any difference
of opinion not resolvable into one or the other
of these causes. Here, then, we have an out-
line of that manly and high-prized reason,
which, under the blessing and direction of God,
arranges the affairs of this world ; which cools


TV1 it amo (Oligoom 287
passion, unravelssophism, enlightensignorance,
and detects mistake; which wit cannot discon-
cert, nor eloquence bear down ; which appeals
always to realities, and ever follows truth with-
out insolence and without fear. For it is
disgraceful to the immortal understanding of
man to be governed by sounds, and to be the
slave of that speech which was given to do him
service. It is beneath the loftiness of his facul-
ties to take his notions of truth from the little
hamlet in which he was bred, or from the
fashions of thought which prevailed in his hour
of life : for truth dwells not on the Danube, or
the Seine, or the Thames ; she is not this thing
to-day, and to-morrow another; but she is of
all places, and all times the same, in every
change, and in every chance—as firm as the
pillars of the earth, and as beautiful as its
fabric.
NOURISHMENT OF THE MIND.—The first
thing to be done in conducting the under-
standing is precisely the same as in conducting
the body, to give it regular and copious sup-
plies of food, to prevent that atrophy and
marasmus of mind, which comes on from giving
it no new ideas. It is a mistake equally fatal
to the memory, the imagination, the powers of
reasoning, and to every faculty of the mind, to


288 $göney, 5mitb's
think too early that we can live upon our stock
of understanding, that it is time to leave off
business, and make use of the acquisitions we
have already made, without troubling ourselves
any further to add to them. It is no more
possible for an idle man to keep together a
certain stock of knowledge, than it is possible
to keep together a stock of ice exposed to the
meridian sun. Every day destroys a fact, a
relation, or an inference; and the only method
of preserving the bulk and value of the pile is
by constantly adding to it.
ONE ROAD TO GREATNESS.—There is but one
method, and that is hard-labor; and a man who
will not pay that price for distinction, had better
at once dedicate himself to the pursuit of the
fox, or sport with the tangles of Neaera's hair,
or talk of bullocks, and glory in the goad
There are many modes of being frivolous, and
not a few of being useful; there is but one
mode of being intellectually great.
GREAT SUCCESS THE FRUIT OF GREAT
LABOR.—Generally speaking, the life of all truly
great men has been a life of intense and in-
cessant labor. They have commonly passed the
first half of life in the gross darkness of indigent
humility,+overlooked, mistaken, contemned,


TJUlit amo (Oligoom 289
by weaker men, thinking while others slept,
reading while others rioted, feeling something
within them that told them they should not
always be kept down among the dregs of the
world; and then, when their time was come,
and some little accident has given them their
first occasion, they have burst out into the light
and glory of public life, rich with the spoils of
time, and mighty in all the labors and struggles
of the mind. Then do the multitude cry out
“a miracle of genius”; Yes, he is a miracle of
genius, because he is a miracle of labor;
because, instead of trusting to the resources of
his own single mind, he has ransacked a thou-
sand minds; because he makes use of the
accumulated wisdom of ages, and takes as his
point of departure the very last line and bound-
ary to which science has advanced; because it
has ever been the object of his life to assist
every intellectual gift of nature, however mu-
nificent, and however splendid, with every
resource that art could suggest, and every
attention diligence could bestow.
ODD QUOTATIONS.–There is a sort of vanity
some men have, of talking of, and reading,
obscure and half-forgotten authors, because it
passes as a matter of course, that he who quotes
authors which are so little read, must be com-


290 $goney, 5mitb's
pletely and thoroughly acquainted with those
authors which are in every man’s mouth. For in-
stance, it is very common to quote Shakespeare,
but it makes a sort of stare to quote Massinger.
I have very little credit for being well acquainted
with Virgil; but if I quote Silius Italicus I may
stand some chance of being reckoned a great
scholar. In short, whoever wishes to strike out
the great road, and to make a shortcut to fame,
let him neglect Homer, Virgil, and Horace, and
Ariosto and Milton, and, instead of these, read
and talk of Fracastorius, Sannazarius, Lorenzini,
Pastorini, and the thirty-six primary sonnateers
of Bettinelli; let him neglect everything which
the suffrage of ages has made venerable and
grand, and dig out of their graves a set of
decayed scribblers, whom the silent verdict of
the public has fairly condemned to everlasting
oblivion. If he complain of the injustice with
which they have been created, and call for a new
trial with loud and importunate clamor, though
I am afraid he will not make much progress in
the estimation of men of sense, he will be sure
to make some noise in the crowd, and to be
dubbed a man of very curious and extraordinary
erudition.
THE Power ro SAY “No.”—The purity of
moral habits is, I am afraid, of very little use to


TUlit ano (Uligoom 29I
a man unless it is accompanied with that degree
of firmness which enables him to act up to what
he may think right, in spite of solicitation to
the contrary. Very few young men have the
power of negation in any great degree at first.
It increases with the increase of confidence, and
with the experience of those inconveniences
which result from the absence of this virtue.
Every young man must be exposed to tempta-
tion : he cannot learn the ways of men without
being witness to their vices. If you attempt to
preserve him from danger by keeping him out
of the way of it, you render him quite unfit for
any style of life in which he may be placed.
The great point is, not to turn him out too soon,
and to give him a pilot at first.
EARLY INDEPENDENCE.-I have always said
that the greatest object in education is to
accustom a young man gradually to be his own
master.
MERE READERs.-We do not want readers,
for the number of readers seems to be very much
upon the increase, and mere readers are very
often the most idle of human beings.
RESULTS OF READING.-It is no more neces-
sary that a man should remember the different


292 5poneg 5mitb'g
dinners and suppers which have made him
healthy, than the different books which have
made him wise. Let us see the result of good
food in a strong body, and the result of great
reading in a full and powerful mind.
QUICK READING.—The best way of reading
books with rapidity is, to acquire that habit
of severe attention to what they contain that
perpetually confines the mind to the single ob-
ject it has in view. When you have read enough
to have acquired the habit of reading without
suffering your mind to wander, and when you
can bring to bear upon your subject a great
share of previous knowledge, you may then
read with rapidity; before that, as you have
taken the wrong road, the faster you proceed,
the more you will be sure to err.
LovE OF TRUTH.—A sincere attachment to
truth, moral and scientific, is a habit which
cures a thousand little infirmities of mind, and
is as honorable to a man who possesses it, in
point of character, as it is profitable in point of
improvement.
ABSTRACT PROPOSITIONS.—Have you definite
notions of Justice? How do you explain the
word chance 2 What is virtue? Men are every


294 $goney, 5mitb's
what can the use be of sawing about a set of
maxims to which there are a complete set of
antagonist maxims? For of what use is it to
tell me that governors have a tendency to en-
croach upon the liberties of the people? and is
that a reason why you should throw yourself
systematically in opposition to the government?
What you say is very true; what you do is very
foolish. For is there not another maxim quite
as true, that the excesses of the people are to be
guarded against? and does not one evil a priori
require your attention as well as another? The
business is to determine, at any one particular
period of affairs, which is in danger of being
weakened, and to act accordingly, like an hon-
est and courageous man; not to lie like a dead
weight at one end of the beam, without the
smallest recollection there is any other, and that
the equilibrium will be violated alike which-
ever extreme shall preponderate.
COURAGE ESSENTIAL TO TALENT.-A great
deal of talent is lost to the world for the want
of a little courage.
Act.—The fact is, that in order to do any
thing in this world worth doing, we must not
stand shivering on the bank, and thinking of
the cold and the danger, but jump in and


TJUlit amo (Uligoom 295
º
-
.
scramble through as well as we can. It will
not do to be perpetually calculating risks and
adjusting nice chances: it did all very well be-
fore the Flood, when a man could consult his
friends upon an intended publication for a hun-
dred and fifty years, and then live to see its
success for six or seven centuries afterwards;
but at present a man waits, and doubts, and
Hesitates, and consults his brother, and his un-
cle, and his first cousins, and his particular
friends, till one fine day he finds that he is
sixty-five years of age, that he has lost so
much time in consulting first cousins and par-
ticular friends, that he has no more time left to
follow their advice.
ARGUMENTATIVENESS.—It is as unfair to
compel a man to discuss with you, who cannot
play the game, or does not like it, as it would
be to compel a person to play at chess with you
under similar circumstances; neither is such a
sort of exercise of the mind suitable to the
rapidity and equal division of general conversa-
tion.
EconoMY OF PRAISE.-Among the smaller
duties of life, I hardly know any one more im-
portant than that of not praising where praise
is not due. Reputation is one of the prizes for


296 $gomey 5mitb’3
which men contend ; it is, as Mr. Burke calls it,
“the cheap defence and ornament of nations,
and the nurse of manly exertions”; it produces
more labor and more talent than twice the
wealth of a country could ever rear up. It is
the coin of genius; and it is the imperious duty
of every man to bestow it with the most scrupu-
lous justice and the wisest economy.
FAIR DISCUSSION.—When two men meet to—
gether who love truth, and discuss any difficult
point with good-nature and a respect for each
other's understandings, it always imparts a high
degree of steadiness and certainty to our knowl-
edge; or, what is nearly of equal value, and
certainly of greater difficulty, it convinces us
of our ignorance. It is an exercise grossly
abused by those who have recourse to it, and is
very apt to degenerate into a habit of perpetual
contradiction, which is the most tiresome and
most disgusting in all the catalogue of imbecili-
ties. It is an exercise which timid men dread,
from which irritable men ought to abstain, but
which, in my humble opinion, advances a man
who is calm enough for it, and strong enough
for it, far beyond any other method of employ-
ing the mind.
THE MISUSE of KNowLEDGE.-The truth is,


"[lit ano (Uligoom 297
that most men want knowledge, not for itself,
but for the superiority which knowledge con-
fers; and the means they employ to secure this
superiority are as wrong as the ultimate object,
for no man can ever end with being superior,
who will not begin with being inferior.
MoDEST MERIT.-There are some sayings in
our language about merit being always united
with modesty, etc. (I suppose because they both
begin with an m, for alliteration has a great
power over proverbs, and proverbs over public
opinion); but I fancy that in the majority of
instances, the fact is directly the reverse, that
talents and arrogance are commonly united,
and that most clever young men of eighteen or
nineteen believe themselves to be about the
level of Demosthenes, or Virgil, or the Admira-
ble Crichton, or John, Duke of Marlborough.
AxIoMS THE BASE of BELIEF.—As for gen-
eral skepticism, the only way to avoid it is, to
seize on some first principles arbitrarily, and
not to quit them. Take as few as you can help,
—about a tenth part what Dr. Reid has taken
will suffice,—but take some and proceed to
build upon them. Some of his disciples, how-
ever, could never get a single step further ;-
they admitted their own existence, but could


298 5pbneg 5mitb's
never deduce any one single truth from it.
One might almost wish that these gentlemen
had disencumbered themselves of this their
only idea, by running down steep places, or
walking very far into profound ponds, rather
than that they should exhibit such a spectacle
of stupidity and perversion.
Is KNowLEDGE HYPOTHETICAL * – If you
choose to call all knowledge hypothetical, be-
cause first principles are arbitrarily assumed,
you certainly may call it so, if you please; but
then I only contend that it does quite as well as
if it were not hypothetical, because all the
various errors agree perfectly well together,
and produce that happiness which is the end
of knowledge.
Idiosynch Asy.—It is a very wise rule in the
conduct of the understanding, to acquire early
a correct notion of your own peculiar constitu-
tion of mind, and to become well acquainted, as
a physician would say, with your idiosyncrasy.
Are you an acute man, and see sharply for small
distances 2 or are you a comprehensive man,
and able to take in wide and extensive views
into your mind 2 Does your mind turn its ideas
into wit? or are you apt to take a common-
sense view of the objects presented to you?
-
*


(Ulit amo Uligoom 299
Have you an exuberant imagination, or a correct
judgment? Are you quick or slow 2 accurate,
or hasty P a great reader, or a great thinker? It
is a prodigious point gained if any man can find
out where his powers lie, and what are his
deficiencies, if he can contrive to ascertain
what Nature intended him for.
SQUARE PERSONS AND Round Hor. Es.—If
you choose to represent the various parts in life
by holes upon a table, of different shapes,
some circular, some triangular, some square,
some oblong, and the persons acting these
parts by bits of wood of similar shapes, we
shall generally find that the triangular person
has got into the square hole, the oblong into
the triangular, and a square person has squeezed
himself into the round hole. The officer and
the office, the doer and the thing done, seldom
fit so exactly, that we can say they were almost
made for each other.
THE LovE OF KNowLEDGE.-I solemnly
declare that, but for the love of knowledge, I
should consider the life of the meanest hedger
and ditcher as preferable to that of the greatest
and richest man here present: for the fire of
our minds is like the fire which the Persians
burn in the mountains,—it flames night and


TUlit and (UligöOm 3OI
springs, by the difficulties which hover around
her, by the wretched habitations in which she
dwells, by the want and sorrow which some-
times journey in her train; but let him ever
follow her as the Angel that guards him, and as
the Genius of his life. She will bring him out
at last into the light of day, and exhibit him to
the world comprehensive in acquirements, fer-
tile in resources, rich in imagination, strong in
reasoning, prudent and powerful above his
fellows, in all the relations and in all the offices
of 11ſe.
RELATIONS SUGGESTED BY WIT.—The first
limit to be affixed to that observation of rela-
tions, which produces the feeling of wit, is,
that they must be relations which excite
surprise. If you tell me that all men must die,
I am very little struck with what you say,
because it is not an assertion very remarkable
for its novelty; but if you were to say that man
was like a time-glass, that both must run out,
and both render up their dust, I should listen to
you with more attention, because I should feel
something like surprise at the sudden relation
you had struck out between two such apparently
dissimilar ideas as a man and a time-glass.
SENSATIONs of WIT.—There is a mode of


3O2 $goney, 5mitb’s
teaching children geography by disjointed parts
of a wooden map, which they fit together. I
have no doubt that the child, in finding the
kingdom or republic which fits into a great hole
in the wooden sea, feels exactly the sensation
of wit. Every one must remember that fitting
the inviting projection of Crim Tartary into the
Black Sea was one of the greatest delights of
their childhood ; and almost all children are
sure to scream with pleasure at the discovery.
THE CAUSE OF WIT, NOT ITS ESSENCE, DE-
FINABLE.—I am only defining the causes of a
certain feeling in the mind called wit;-I can
no more define the feeling itself, than I can
define the flavor of venison. We all seem to
partake of one and the other, with a very great
degree of satisfaction ; but why each feeling is
what it is, and nothing else, I am sure I cannot
pretend to determine.
ELABORATION OF WIT.—It is imagined that
wit is a sort of inexplicable visitation, that it
comes and goes with the rapidity of lightning,
and that it is quite as unattainable as beauty or
just proportion. I am so much of a contrary
way of thinking, that I am convinced a man
might sit down as systematically, and as suc-
cessfully, to the study of wit, as he might to the
-


Tſlit amo (Uligoom 303
study of mathematics: and I would answer for
it, that, by giving up only six hours a day to
being witty he should come on prodigiously
before midsummer, so that his friends should
hardly know him again.
PUNs.—I have very little to say about puns;
they are in very bad repute, and so they ought
to be. The wit of language is so miserably in-
ferior to the wit of ideas, that it is very deserv-
edly driven out of good company. Sometimes,
indeed, a pun makes its appearance which
seems for a moment to redeem its species;
but we must not be deceived by them : it is a
radically bad race of wit.
BANISHMENT OF PUNSTERS.—One invaluable
blessing produced by the banishment of pun-
ning, is an immediate reduction of the number
of wits.
CHECK on WITs.-The condition of putting
together ideas in order to be witty operates
much in the same salutary manner as the con-
dition of finding rhymes in poetry;-it reduces
the number of performers to those who have
vigor enough to overcome incipient difficulties,
and makes a sort of provision that that which
need not be done at all, should be done well


3O4 $goney, 5mitb’s
whenever it is done. For we may observe, that
mankind are always more fastidious about that
which is pleasing, than they are about that
which is useful.
VULGAR DISPLAY. —If a man have ordinary
chairs and tables, no one notices it; but if he
stick vulgar gaudy pictures on his walls, which
he need not have at all, every one laughs at
him for his folly.
TRUE SARCASM.–A true sarcasm is like a
sword-stick—it appears, at first sight, to be
much more innocent than it really is, till, all
of a sudden, there leaps something out of it—
sharp and deadly, and incisive—which makes
you tremble and recoil.
RESIST RIDICULE.—I know of no principle
which it is of more importance to fix in the
minds of young people than that of the most
determined resistance to the encroachments of
ridicule.
BRAVE LAUGHTER.—Learn from the earliest
days to inure your principles against the perils
of ridicule: you can no more exercise your
reason, if you live in the constant dread of
laughter, than you can enjoy your life, if you
are in the constant terror of death.


TUlit amo (Ulí900m 305
MIsconstructIONS.—Let men call you mean,
if you know you are just ; hypocritical, if you
are honestly religious; pusillanimous, if you
feel that you are firm ; resistance soon converts
unprincipled wit into sincere respect; and no
after-time can tear from you those feelings
which every man carries within him who has
made a noble and successful exertion in a vir-
tuous CauSe.
INCONGRUITY THE BASIS OF HUMOR.—As
you increase the incongruity, you increase the
humor; as you diminish it, you diminish the
humor. If a tradesman of a corpulent and re-
spectable appearance, with habiliments some-
what ostentatious, were to slide down gently
into the mud, and dedecorate a pea-green coat,
I am afraid we should all have the barbarity to
laugh. If his hat and wig, like treacherous
servants, were to desert their falling master,
it certainly would not diminish our propensity
to laugh; but if he were to fall into a violent
passion, and abuse everybody about him, no-
body could possibly resist the incongruity of a
pea-green tradesman, very respectable, sitting
in the mud, and threatening all the passers-by
with the effects of his wrath. Here, every inci-
dent heightens the humor of the scene:—the
gayety of his tunic, the general respectability


Quit and Quigoom 307
dier? Who is so wicked as to amuse himself
with the infirmities of extreme old age? or to
find subject for humor in the weakness of a
perishing dissolving body? Who is there that
does not feel himself disposed to overlook the
little peculiarities of the truly great and wise,
and to throw a veil over that ridicule which
they have redeemed by the magnitude of their
talents, and the splendor of their virtues? Who
ever thinks of turning into ridicule our great
and ardent hope of a world to come 2 When-
ever the man of humor meddles with these
things, he is astonished to find, that in all the
great feelings of their nature the mass of Inan-
Kind always think and act aright;-that they
are ready enough to laugh, but that they are
quite as ready to drive away with indignation
and contempt, the light fool who comes with
the feather of wit. to crumble the bulwarks
of truth, and to beat down the Temples of
God |
BUFFooNERY.—Buffoonery is voluntary in-
congruity.
BULLs.—A bull, which must by no means be
passed over in this recapitulation of the family
of wit and humor, a bull is exactly the coun-
terpart of a witticism: for as wit discovers real


3IO $goney, 5mítb’3
he must obtain them at the expense of decency,
friendship, and good feeling. It must always
be probable, too, that a mere wit is a person of
light and frivolous understanding. His business
is not to discover relations of ideas that are
useful, and have a real influence upon life, but
to discover the more trifling relations which
are only amusing ; he never looks at things
with the naked eye of common sense, but is
always gazing at the world through a Claude
Lorraine glass, discovering a thousand appear-
ances which are created only by the instrument
of inspection, and covering every object with
factitious and unnatural colors. In short, the
character of a mere wit it is impossible to con-
sider as very amiable, very respectable, or very
safe.
DIGNITY OF DULNESS.—There is an asso-
ciation in men's minds between dulness and
wisdom, amusement and folly, which has a
very powerful influence in decision upon char-
acter, and is not overcome without considerable
difficulty. The reason is, that the outward
signs of a dull man and a wise man are the
same, and so are the outward signs of a frivo-
lous man and a witty man ; and we are not to
expect that the majority will be disposed to
look to much more than the outward sign.
__


312 $goney, 5mitb's
troublesome, and began to tell long stories,
they immediately ate them ; nothing could be
more improper, and even disrespectful, than
dining off such near and venerable relations;
yet we could not with any propriety accuse
them of bad taste in morals.
EMOTIONs of EATING.—I should like to try
a Scotch gentleman, upon his first arrival in
this country, with the taste of ripe fruit, and
leave him to judge after that, whether nature
had confined the senses to such dry and un-
gracious occupations, as whether mere matter
could produce emotion. Such doctrines may
do very well in the chambers of a northern
metaphysician, but they are untenable in the
light of the world; they are refuted, nobly
refuted, twenty times in a year in Fishmongers'
Hall. If you deny that matter can produce
emotion, judge on these civic occasions, of the
power of gusts, and relishes, and flavors Look
at men when (as Bishop Taylor says) they are
“gathered round the eels of Syene, and the
oysters of Lucrinus, and when the Lesbian and
Chian wines descend through the limbec of
the tongue and larynx; when they receive
the juice of fishes, and the marrow of the
laborious ox, and the tender lard of Apulian
swine, and the condited stomach of the scarus”:


'GOlít ano (Uligoom 3I3
—is this nothing but mere sensation ? is there
no emotion, no panting, no wheezing, no deg-
lutition ? is this the calm acquisition of intelli-
gence, and the quiet office ascribed to the
senses?—or is it a proof that nature has infused
into her original creations, the power of grati-
fying that sense which distinguishes them, and
to every atom of matter has added an atom of joy?
HIss.—The sound of a trumpet suggests the
dreadful idea of a battle, and the approach of
armed men; but to all men brought up at
Queen's College, Oxford, it must be associated
with eating and drinking, for they are always
called to dinner by sound of trumpet: and I
have a little daughter at home, who, if she
heard the sound of a trumpet, would run to the
window expecting to see the puppet-show of
Punch, which is carried about the streets. So
with a hiss : a hiss is either foolish, or tremen-
dous, or sublime. The hissing of a pancake is
absurd ; the first faint hiss that arises from the
extremity of the pit on the evening of a new
play, sinks the soul of the author within him,
and makes him curse himself and his Thalia |
the hissing of a cobra di capello is sublime, it
is the whisper of death !
MAY MORNINGs.—Walk in the fields in one
AT


TUI it amo (Oligoom 315
beauties. Such men, where they are to be
found, form the standard in every department
of beauty, and in every ingredient of taste.
How such critics are to be found, is another
question; that they exist, no man doubts ; and
their joint influence ultimately prevails, and
gives the law to public opinion. But I hear
some men asking where they are to be found 2
and who they are 2 with a sort of exultation, as
if there were any wit, or talent, or importance
in the question. They are to be found in Dover
Street, Albemarle Street, Berkeley Square, the
Temple; anywhere wherever reading, thinking
men, who have seen a great deal of the world,
are to be found. I myself could mention the
names of twenty persons, whose opinions influ-
ence the public taste in this town ; and then,
when opinions are settled here, those opinions
go down by the mail-coach, to regulate all
matters of taste for the provinces.
FIAT JUSTITIA. —Justice is pleasant, even
when she destroys.
INSTRUMENTAL, MUSIC.—See the effects of a
long piece of music at a public concert. The
orchestra are breathless with attention, jump-
ing into major and minor keys, executing
fugues, and fiddling with the most ecstatic pre-


316 $poneg $mitb'6
cision. In the midst of all this wonderful
science, the audience are gaping, lolling, talk-
ing, staring about, and half devoured with
ennui. On a sudden there springs up a lively
little air, expressive of some natural feeling,
though in point of science not worth a half-
penny: the audience all spring up, every head
nods, every foot beats time, and every heart
also ; an universal smile breaks out on every
face; the carriage is not ordered; and every
one agrees that music is the most delightful
rational entertainment that the human mind
can possibly enjoy.
PROPORTION NOT THE CAUSE OF BEAUTY.—
Mr. Burke contends, and in my humble opinion
with great success, that proportion is never of
itself the original cause of beauty. It is the
cause of beauty, as it is an indication of
strength and utility in buildings, of swiftness
in animals, of any feeling morally beautiful;
and it is agreeable, as it is customary in ani-
mals, or the proof of the absence of deformity;
but no proportion of itself, and without one of
these reasons, ever pleases. No man would
contend nature ever intended that 6 to 2, or 9
to 14, are perfection : that the moment a mon-
Rey could be discovered and brought to light,
the length of whose ear was precisely the cube


318 $goney, 5mitb's
breed of pigs with legs so short, that their
stomachs trail upon the ground; a breed of
animals entombed in their own fat, overwhelmed
with prosperity, success, and farina. No animal
could possibly be so disgusting if it were not
useful; but a breeder, who has accurately at-
tended to the small quantity of food it requires
to swell this pig out to such extraordinary
dimensions,—the astonishing genius it displays
for obesity, and the 1audable propensity of the
flesh to desert the cheap regions of the body,
and to agglomerate on those parts which are
worth ninepence a pound,-such an observer of
its utility does not scruple to call these other-
wise hideous quadrupeds a beautiful race of
pigs.
MONOTONY OF ORDER.—I went for the first
time in my life, some years ago, to stay at
a very grand and beautiful place in the country,
where the grounds are said to be laid out with
consummate taste. For the first three or four
days I was perfectly enchanted; it seemed
something so much better than nature, that I
really began to wish the earth had been laid
out according to the latest principles of im-
provement, and that the whole face of nature
wore a little more the appearance of a park.
In three days’ time I was tired to death; a


VUlit amo Uligoom 319
thistle, a nettle, a heap of dead bushes, any
thing that wore the appearance of accident and
want of intention, was quite a relief. I used to
escape from the made grounds, and walk upon
an adjacent goose-common, where the cart-ruts,
gravel-pits, bumps, irregularities, coarse un-
gentlemanlike grass, and all the varieties pro-
duced by neglect, were a thousand times more
gratifying than the monotony of beauties the
result of design, and crowded into narrow con-
fines with a luxuriance and abundance utterly
unknown to nature.
THE LOVE OF THE BEAUTIFUL.—What are
half the crimes in the world committed for?
What brings into action the best virtues 2 The
desire of possessing. Of possessing what?—not
mere money, but every species of the beautiful
which money can purchase. A man lies hid in
a little, dirty, smoky room for twenty years of
his life, and sums up as many columns of figures
as would reach round half the earth, if they
were laid at length ;-he gets rich : what does
he do with his riches 2 He buys a large well-
proportioned house : in the arrangment of his
furniture, he gratifies himself with all the
beauty which splendid colors, regular figures,
and smooth surfaces, can convey; he has the
beauties of variety and association in his


320 $poneg 5mitb’s
grounds; the cup out of which he drinks his
tea is adorned with beautiful figures; the chair
in which he sits is covered with smooth shining
leather; his tablecloth is of the most beautiful
damask; mirrors reflect the lights from every
quarter of the room ; pictures of the best masters
feed his eye with all the beauties of imitation.
A million of human creatures are employed in
this country in ministering to this feeling of the
beautiful. It is only a barbarous, ignorant peo-
ple that can ever be occupied by the necessaries
of life alone. If to eat, and to drink, and to be
warm, were the only passions of our minds, we
should all be what the lowest of us all are at this
day. The love of the beautiful calls man to
fresh exertions, and awakens him to a more
noble life ; and the glory of it is, that as paint-
ers imitate, and poets sing, and statuaries carve,
and architects rear up the gorgeous trophies of
their skill,—as every thing becomes beautiful,
and orderly, and magnificent, the activity of
the mind rises to still greater, and to better,
objects.
CoNTRASTED PLEASUREs. – The joy of a
washerwoman who has just got the 20,000l.
prize in the lottery, and the joy of a sensible,
worthy man, who has just succeeded in rescuing
a family from distress, are both feelings of
_-


322 5 goney, 5mitb's
ing the drawer I found that the one so marked
was the fortunate ticket.” Now this action
appears to me perfectly beautiful; it is le beau
idéal in morals, and gives that calm, yet deep
emotion of pleasure, which every one so easily
receives from the beauty of the exterior world.
VALE of SEVERN.—The sudden variation
from the hill country of Gloucestershire to the
Vale of Severn, as observed from Birdlip, or
Frowcester Hill, is strikingly sublime. You
travel for twenty or five-and-twenty miles over
one of the most unfortunate, desolate countries
under heaven, divided by stone walls, and aban-
doned to screaming kites and larcenous crows:
after travelling really twenty, and to appearance
ninety miles over this region of stone and
sorrow, life begins to be a burden, and you
wish to perish. At the very moment when you
are taking this melancholy view of human
affairs, and hating the postilion, and blaming
the horses, there bursts upon your view, with
all its towers, forests, and streams, the deep and
shaded Vale of Severn. Sterility and nakedness
are thrown in the background: as far as the eye
can reach, all is comfort, opulence, product,
and beauty: now it is an ancient city, or a fair
castle rising out of the forests, and now the
beautiful Severn is noticed winding among the


TUlit amo (Uligoom 323
cultivated fields, and the cheerful habitations of
men. The train of mournful impressions is
quite effaced, and you descend rapidly into a
vale of plenty, with a heart full of wonder and
delight.
AURUNGZEBE.—Everybody possessed of power
is an object either of awe or sublimity, from a
justice of peace up to the Emperor Aurungzebe,
—an object quite as stupendous as the Alps.
He had thirty-five millions of revenue, in a
country where the products of the earth are, at
least, six times as cheap as in England : his
empire extended over twenty-five degrees of
latitude, and as many of longitude; he had put
to death about twenty millions of people. I
should like to know the man who could have
looked at Aurungzebe without feeling him to the
end of his limbs, and in every hair of his head
Such emperors are more sublime than cataracts.
I think any man would have shivered more at
the sight of Aurungzebe than at the sight of the
two rivers which meet at the Blue Mountains,
in America, and, bursting through the whole
breadth of the rocks, roll their victorious and
united waters to the Eastern Sea.
SUBLIMITY OF ENDURANCE.-I am going to
say rather an odd thing, but I cannot help


324 5ponep 5mitb'g
thinking that the severe and rigid economy of
a man in distress has something in it very sub-
lime, especially if it be endured for any length
of time serenely and in silence. I remember a
very striking instance of it in a young man,
since dead. He was the son of a country curate,
who had got him a berth on board a man-of-
war as midshipman. The poor curate made a
great effort for his son ; fitted him out well with
clothes, and gave him fifty pounds in money.
The first week the poor boy lost his chest,
clothes, money, and every thing he had in the
world. The ship sailed for a foreign station,
and his loss was without remedy. He immedi-
ately quitted his mess, ceased to associate with
the other midshipmen, who were the sons of
gentlemen; and for five years, without men-
tioning it to his parents, who he knew could
not assist him, or without borrowing a farth-
ing from any human being, without a single
murmur or complaint, did that poor lad endure
the most abject and degrading poverty, at a pe-
piod of life when the feelings are most alive to
ridicule and the appetites most prone to indul-
gence. Now, I confess I am a mighty advocate
for the sublimity of such long and patient en-
durance. If you can make the world stare and
look on, there you have vanity or compassion
to support you; but to bury all your wretched-


TUlſt amo (Uligoom 325
ness in your own mind; to resolve that you will
have no man's pity, while you have one effort
left to procure his respect; to harbor no mean
thought in the midst of abject poverty, but at
the very time you are surrounded by circum-
stances of humility and depression to found a
spirit of modest independence upon the con-
sciousness of having always acted well,—this is
a sublime which, though it is found in the shade
and retirement of life, ought to be held up to
the praises of men, and to be looked upon as a
noble model for imitation.
How To LIVE.—It is the greatest and first
use of history to show us the sublime in morals,
and to tell us what great men have done in
perilous seasons. Such beings and such actions
dignify our nature, and breathe into us a vir-
tuous pride, which is the parent of every good.
Wherever you meet with them in the page of
history, read them, mark them, and learn from
them how to live, and how to diel for the ob-
ject of common men is only to live. The object
of such men as I have spoken of was to live
grandly, and in favor with their own difficult
spirits: to live, if in war, gloriously; if in peace,
usefully, justly, and freely/
SUPERIORITY OF MAN.—I confess I feel my-


326 5poneg $nitb’s
self so much at ease about the superiority of
mankind; I have such a marked and decided
contempt for the understanding of every ba-
boon I have yet seen ; I feel so sure that the
blue ape without a tail will never rival us in
poetry, painting, and music,+that I see no rea-
son whatever why justice may not be done to
the few fragments of soul and tatters of under-
standing which they may really possess. I have
sometimes, perhaps, felt a little uneasy at
Exeter 'Change from contrasting the monkeys
with the 'prentice-boys who are teasing them;
but a few pages of Locke or a few lines of Mil-
ton have always restored me to tranquillity, and
convinced me that the superiority of man had
nothing to fear.
INSTINCTS OF ANIMALS.—All the wonderful
instincts of animals, which, in my opinion, are
proved beyond a doubt, and the belief in which
is not decreased with the increase of science
and investigation,-all these instincts are given
them only for the combination or preservation
of their species. If they had not these instincts
they would be swept off the earth in an instant.
This bee, that understands architecture so well,
is as stupid as a pebble-stone out of his own
particular business of making honey, and with
all his talents he only exists that boys may eat


TJUlit amo (Uligoom 327
his labors, and poets sing about them. Ut
pueris placeas et declamatio fias. A peasant girl
of ten years old puts the whole republic to death
with a little smoke; their palaces are turned
into candles, and every clergyman's wife makes
mead wine of the honey; and there is no end
of the glory and wisdom of the bees | Whereas
man has talents that have no sort of reference
to his existence, and without which his species
might remain upon earth in the same safety as
if they had them not. The bee works at that
particular angle which saves most time and
labor; and the boasted edifice he is constructing
is only for his egg: but Somerset House and
Blenheim and the Louvre have nothing to do
with breeding. Epic poems and Apollo Belvi-
deres and Venus de Medicis have nothing to do
with living and eating. We might have discov-
ered pig-nuts without the Royal Society, and
gathered acorns without reasoning about curves
of the ninth order. The immense superfluity
of talent given to man, which has no bearing
upon animal life, which has nothing to do
with the mere preservation of existence, is
one very distinguishing circumstance in this
comparison. There is no other animal but
man to whom mind appears to be given for
any other purpose than the preservation of
body.


328 $göncy $mitb's
CHANGE OF ANIMAL INSTINCTS.—The most
curious instance of a change of instinct is men-
tioned by Darwin. The bees carried over to
Barbadoes and the Western Isles, ceased to lay
up any honey after the first year; as they found
it not useful to them. They found the weather
so fine, and materials for making honey so
pientiful, that they quitted their grave, prudent,
and mercantile character, became exceedingly
profligate and debauched, eat up their capital,
resolved to work no more, and amused them-
selves by flying about the sugar-houses, and
stinging the blacks. The fact is, that by putting
animals in different situations, you may change,
and even reverse, any of their original propen-
sities. Spallanzani brought up an eagle upon
bread and milk, and fed a dove on raw beef.
The circumstances by which an animal is
surrounded, impel him to do so and so, by the
changes they produce in his body and mind.
MEN AND ANIMALS.–If man were a solitary
animal, like a lion or a bear, he would not be so
superior to all animals as he is. If he had the
hoof of oxen instead of hands, he would not be
so superior: neither would he, if he had less
perfect organs of speech; nor if his life were
confined to a very few years, instead of being
extended to seventy. But all these things will


TUI it amo (Uligoom 329
not do by any means alone, as the degraders of
human nature have said ; for there are some
animals which very nearly possess all these
advantages, and yet are perfectly contemptible,
when compared even with the lowest of men.
MAN THE OBJECT of CREATION.—But the
great source of man's superiority is, the im-
mense and immeasurable disproportion of those
faculties, of which nature has given the mere
rudiments to brutes; that this disproportion has
Inade man a speculative animal, even where his
mere existence is not concerned ; that it has
made him a progressive animal; that it has made
flim a religious animal; and that upon that mere
superiority, and on the very principle that the
chain of mind and spirit terminates here with
man, the best and the most irrefragable argu-
ments for the immortality of the soul are
founded, which natural religion can afford : that
independent of revelation, it would be impossi-
ble not to perceive that man is the object of the
creation, and that he, and he alone, is reserved
for another and a better state of existence.
UNIFORMITY OF ACTIONS IN ANIMALS.—The
bees now build exactly as they built in the time
of Homer; the bear is as ignorant of good
manners as he was two thousand years past;


330 $goney, $mitb’s
and the baboon is still as unable to read and
write, as persons of honor and quality were in
the time of Queen Elizabeth. Yet it is not from
any lack of inconveniences, nor any extraordi-
nary contentedness with their situation, that
any species of animals remains in such a state
of sameness. The wolf often kills twenty times
as much as he wants; and if he could hit upon
any means of preserving his superfluous plun-
der, he would not perish of hunger as often as
he does. To lay traps for the hunters, and to eat
them as they were caught, would be far prefera-
ble to all those animals who are the cause, and
the contents of traps themselves.
MEN OvERCOME, ANIMALs SUBMIT.-Animals,
like men, are goaded by wants and sufferings;
but, contrary to the nature of men, they do not
overcome, but endure them. The flesh of the
savage was originally as strong a temptation to
the bear, as the flesh of the bear was to the
savage. The wants of the one impelled him to
invention; the other retained his original stu-
pidity, in spite of his wants.
ABSENCE OF PROGRESS.—This sameness of
habits in animals does not demonstrate that they
are not guided by reason, but it renders it in the
highest degree improbable that they should be.


(Clit amo (Uligoom 33I
But the Chinese are stationary, and so are the
Hindoos –they are now exactly what they
were twenty centuries ago. Certainly they are:
but, then, they are so from religious prejudice,
transmitted from parent to child; and if it can be
proved (which it cannot), that bees and ants
only gain their habits from older bees and ants,
I admit the whole question of instinct is very
materially changed : but the fact is the reverse;
and if the fact were the reverse also with the
Chinese, if a young Chinese, brought out of his
own country very young, were, without ever
having seen another Chinese, to begin at the age
of five or six to eatrice with two sticks, to clothe
himself in blue and nankeen, and adore the great
idol Foo, we must call this sameness the same-
ness of instinct; but as he does these foolish
things because he lives with other Chinese, it is
the sameness proceeding from imitation, and
strengthened, as we happen to know it to be, by
religious association.
AN OLD STORY..—Every one knows the old
story of the tailor and the elephant, which, if it
be not true, at least shows the opinion the
Orientals, who know the animal well, entertain
of his sagacity. An eastern tailor to the court
was making a magnificent doublet for a bashaw
of nine tails, and covering it, after the manner


332 5pomeg 5mitb's
of eastern doublets, with gold, silver, and every
species of metallic magnificence. As he was
busying himself on this momentous occasion,
there passed by, to the pools of water, one of the
royal elephants, about the size of a broad-wheeled
wagon, rich in ivory teeth, and shaking, with its
ponderous tread, the tailor's shop to its remot-
est thimble. As he passed near the window, the
elephant happened to look in ; the tailor lifted up
his eyes, perceived the proboscis of the elephant
near him, and, being seized with a fit of face-
tiousness, pricked the animal with his needle :
the mass of matter immediately retired, stalked
away to the pool, filled his trunk full of muddy
water, and, returning to the shop, overwhelmed
the artisan and his doublet with the dirty effects
of his vengeance.
ANIMAL ExPERIENCE.-Animals profit by
experience, as we do, not so much, but in the
Same manner.
BREVITY OF LIFE.-I think it is Helvetius
who says he is quite certain we only owe our
superiority over the ourang-outangs to the
greater length of life conceded to us, and that
if our life had been as short as theirs they
would have totally defeated us in the competi-
tion for nuts and ripe blackberries. I can hardly
Tº


TUlit and Uligðom 335
without the special mandate of that God who
fixes incipient passions in the human heart, and
leaves them to produce a Borgia to scourge
mankind, or a Newton to instruct them,--is not
piety, or science, but a most pernicious sub-
stitution of degrading conjectures, from an
ignorant apprehension of the consequences of
admitting plain facts.
INDISCREET CHAMPIONS OF RELIGION.—The
enemies of the soul's immortality I do not fear;
I know how often they have been vanquished
before, and I am quite sure that they will be
overthrown again with a mighty overthrow as
often as they do appear. But I confess I have
some considerable dread of the indiscreet friends
of religion. I tremble at that respectable im-
becility which shuffles away the plainest truths,
and thinks the strongest of all causes wants the
weakest of all aids. I shudder at the conse-
quences of fixing the great proofs of religion
upon any other basis than that of the widest
investigation and most honest statement of
facts.
A MIND MADE UP.-Repose is agreeable to
the human mind; and decision is repose. A
man has made up his opinions; he does not
choose to be disturbed ; and he is much more


336 Sconce Smitb's
thankful to the man who confirms him in his
errors, and leaves him alone, than he is to the
man who refutes him or who instructs him at
the expense of his tranquillity.
WoRDS.—Words are an amazing barrier to the
reception of truth.
WoRD CoNTRoversIES.—Definition of words
has been commonly called a mere exercise of
grammarians; but when we come to consider
the innumerable murders, proscriptions, massa-
cres, and tortures which men have inflicted on
each other from mistaking the meaning of
words, the exercise of definition certainly begins
to assume rather a more dignified aspect.
TASTE FOR STUDY AN AcQUIRED TASTE.-
Without study no man can ever do any thing
with his understanding. But in spite of all that
has been said about the sweets of study, it is a
sort of luxury, like the taste for olives and cof-
fee—not natural, very hard to be acquired, and
very easily lost.
LIVE WITH ABLE MEN.—One of the best
methods of rendering study agreeable is to live
with able men, and to suffer all those pangs of
inferiority which the want of knowledge always
inflicts.
_- *


TJUlit and (Uligoom 337
VIGOROUS STUDY. —There is nothing so hor-
rible as languid study; when you sit looking at
the clock, wishing the time was over, or that
somebody would call on you and put you out of
your misery. The only way to read with any
efficacy is to read so heartily that dinner-time
comes two hours before you expected it. To sit
with your Livy before you, and hear the geese
cackling that saved the Capitol, and to see with
your own eyes the Carthaginian suttlers gather-
ing up the rings of the Roman knights after
the battle of Cannae and heaping them in bush-
els, and to be so intimately present at the
actions you are reading of, that when anybody
Knocks at the door it will take you two or three
seconds to determine whether you are in your
own study or in the plains of Lombardy, looking
at Hannibal's weather-beaten face, and admir-
ing the splendor of his single eye, this is the
only kind of study which is not tiresome, and
almost the only kind which is not useless ; this
is the knowledge which gets into the system,
and which a man carries about and uses like his
limbs without perceiving that it is extraneous,
weighty, or inconvenient.
THE RULE OF RIGHT.-Sleep as much as you
please, if your inclination lead you only to sleep
as much as is convenient; if not, make rules.


336 $goney, $nitb's
thankful to the man who confirms him in his
errors, and leaves him alone, than he is to the
man who refutes him or who instructs him at
the expense of his tranquillity.
WoRDS.—Words are an amazing barrier to the
reception of truth.
WoRD CONTROversIES.—Definition of words
has been commonly called a mere exercise of
grammarians; but when we come to consider
the innumerable murders, proscriptions, massa-
cres, and tortures which men have inflicted on
each other from mistaking the meaning of
words, the exercise of definition certainly begins
to assume rather a more dignified aspect.
TASTE FOR STUDY AN AcQUIRED TASTE.-
Without study no man can ever do any thing
with his understanding. But in spite of all that
has been said about the sweets of study, it is a
sort of luxury, like the taste for olives and cof-
fee—not natural, very hard to be acquired, and
very easily lost.
LIVE witH ABLE MEN.—One of the best
methods of rendering study agreeable is to live
with able men, and to suffer all those pangs of
inferiority which the want of knowledge always
inflicts.


338 $goney, 5mitb'g
The system in every thing ought to be, do as
you please—as long as you please to do what is
right.
TOTAL REPOSE.—There is one piece of advice,
in a life of study, which I think no one will
object to ; and that is, every now and then to
be completely idle, to do nothing at all.
PROCESS OF THOUGHT.-I have asked several
men what passes in their minds when they are
thinking ; and I could never find any man who
could think for two minutes together. Every
body has seemed to admit that it was a per-
petual deviation from a particular path, and a
perpetual return to it; which, imperfect as the
operation is, is the only method in which we
can operate with our minds to carry on any
process of thought. -
THE ART OF LISTENING.—There are few
good listeners in the world who make all the
use that they might make, of the understand-
ings of others, in the conduct of their own.
RESPECT FOR OTHERs.-I may be very wrong,
and probably am so, but, in the whole course
of my life, I do not know that I ever saw a man
of considerable understanding respect the under-


TUI it ano (Uligoom 339
standings of others as much as he might have
done for his own improvement, and as it was
just that he should do.
A CURE FOR CONTRADICTING.—The habit of
contradicting into which young men—and
young men of ability in particular—are apt to
fall, is a habit extremely injurious to the powers
of the understanding. I would recommend to
such young men an intellectual regimen, of
which I myself, in an earlier period of life, have
felt the advantage : and that is, to assent to the
two first propositions that they hear every day;
and not only to assent to them, but, if they can,
to improve and embellish them ; and to make
the speaker a little more in love with his own
opinion than he was before. When they have
a little got over the bitterness of assenting, they
may then gradually increase the number of
assents, and so go on as their constitution will
bear it; and I have little doubt that, in time,
this will effect a complete and perfect cure.
PERSEVERE.—There is one circumstance I
would preach up morning, noon, and night to
young persons for the management of their
understanding. Whatever you are from nature
1<eep to it; never desert your own line of talent.
If Providence only intended you to write poses


340 $goney, 5mitb'3
for rings or mottoes for twelfth-cakes, keep to
poses and mottoes: a good motto for a twelfth-
cake is more respectable than a villainous epic
poem in twelve books. Be what nature intended
you for, and you will succeed; be any thing
else, and you will be ten thousand times worse
than nothing.
UNITY OF THE MIND.—Talent is talent, mind
is mind, in all its branches. Wit gives to life
one of its best flavors; common sense leads to
immediate action, and gives society its daily
motion ; large and comprehensive views, its
annual rotation ; ridicule chastises folly and
impudence, and keeps men in their proper
sphere; subtlety seizes hold of the fine threads
of truth; analogy darts away to the most sub-
lime discoveries; feeling paints all the exquisite
passions of man's soul, and rewards him by a
thousand inward visitations for the sorrows that
come from without. God made it all ! It is all
good | We must despise no sort of talent; they
all have their separate duties and uses; all, the
happiness of man for their object: they all
improve, exalt, and gladden life.
CAUTION AN AID TO TALENT. — Caution,
though it must be considered as something
very different from talent, is no mean aid to


TÜlit ano (Uligoom 34I
every species of talent. As some men are so
skilful in economy that they will do as much
with a hundred pounds as another will do with
two, so there are a species of men who have a
wonderful management of their understandings,
and will make as great a show and enjoy as
much consideration, with a certain quantity of
understanding, as others will do with the double
of their portion; and this by watching times
and persons; by taking strong positions, and
never fighting but from the vantage-ground,
and with great disparity of numbers; in short,
by risking nothing, and by a perpetual and
systematic attention to the security of reputa-
tion. Such rigid economy—by laying out every
shilling at compound interest—very often
accumulates a large stock of fame, where the
original capital has been very inconsiderable;
and, of course, may command any degree of
opulence, where it sets out from great begin-
nings, and is united with real genius.
DiscourAGEMENT.-Some men get early dis-
gusted with the task of improvement and the
cultivation of the mind from some excesses
which they have committed and mistakes
into which they have been betrayed at the
beginning of life. They abuse the whole art
of navigation because they have stuck upon a


342 $gomey 5mitb'g
shoal; whereas, the business is to refit, careen,
and set out a second time. The navigation is
very difficult; few of us get through it at first
without some rubs and losses, which the world
are always ready enough to forgive where they
are honestly confessed and diligently repaired.
QUICKNEss.-There is something extremely
fascinating in quickness; and most men are
desirous of appearing quick. The great rule
for becoming so, is, by not attempting to appear
quicker than you really are ; by resolving to
understand yourself and others, and to know
what you mean, and what they mean, before
you speak or answer. Every man must submit
to be slow before he is quick; and insignificant,
before he is important. The too early struggle
against the pain of obscurity, corrupts no small
share of understandings.
KNow LEDGE.-It is not the mere cry of
moralists, and the flourish of rhetoricians: but
it is noble to seek truth, and it is beautiful to
find it. It is the ancient feeling of the human
heart, that knowledge is better than riches;
and it is deeply and sacredly true / To mark
the course of human passions as they have
flowed on in the ages that are past; to see why
nations have risen, and why they have fallen ;


TJUlit amo (Uligoom 343
to speak of heat, and light, and the winds; to
know what man has discovered in the heavens
above, and in the earth beneath ; to hear the
chemist unfold the marvellous properties that
the Creator has locked up in a speck of earth;
to be told that there are worlds so distant from
our sun, that the quickness of light travelling
from the world's creation has never yet reached
us; to wander in the creations of poetry, and
grow warm again, with that eloquence which
swayed the democracies of the old world; to go
up with great reasoners to the First Cause of
all, and to perceive, in the midst of all this
dissolution and decay, and cruel separation,
that there is one thing unchangeable, inde-
structible, and everlasting;-it is worth while
in the days of our youth to strive hard for this
great discipline; to pass sleepless nights for it,
to give up to it laborious days; to spurn for it
present pleasures; to endure for it afflicting
poverty; to wade for it through darkness, and
sorrow, and contempt, as the great spirits of
the world have done in all ages and all times.
Do WHAT YOU CAN.—It is the greatest of all
mistakes, to do nothing because you can only
do little : but there are men who are always
clamoring for immediate and stupendous effects,
and think that virtue and knowledge are to be


344 $gone p 5mitb’s
increased as a tower or a temple are to be in-
creased, where the growth of its magnitude can
be measured from day to day, and you cannot
approach it without perceiving a fresh pillar, or
admiring an added pinnacle.
ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS.—When two ideas
have, by any accident, been joined together
frequently in the understanding, the one idea
Has, ever after, the strongest tendency to bring
back the other : for instance, the celebrated
Descartes was very much in love with a lady
who squinted; he had so associated that passion
with obliquity of vision, that he declares, to the
latest hour of his life he could never see a lady
with a cast in her eye, without experiencing the
most lively emotions.
LOVE NURTURED BY USE.-Whatever we love
for its uses, we love for itself. A man begins to
love his horse because he carries him well out
hunting: he ends with loving the horse without
the slightest reference to his utility; and keeps
him when he is blind and lame, with as much
attention as in the vigor of his youth.
THE LOVE OF A STICK.—I remember once
seeing an advertisement in the papers, with
which I was much struck; and which I will
take the liberty of reading —“Lost, in the


TUIft and (Uligoom 345
Temple Coffee House, and supposed to be taken
away by mistake, an oaken stick, which has
supported its master not only over the greatest
part of Europe, but has been his companion in
his journeys over the inhospitable deserts of
Africa; whoever will restore it to the waiter,
will confer a very serious obligation on the
advertiser; or, if that be any object, shall re-
ceive a recompense very much above the value
of the article restored.” Now, here is a man,
who buys a sixpenny stick, because it is useful;
and, totally forgetting the trifling causes which
first made his stick of any consequence, speaks
of it with warmth and affection : calls it his
companion; and would hardly have changed it,
perhaps, for the gold stick which is carried be-
fore the king.
FEELING.—What was the first command 2
Not “let there be colors ”; not “1et the herb
be green, and the heavens be blue”: but, “let
there be light / " and forthwith there was every
variety of color! So with us; the first mandate
was not, “let man be affected with anger and
gratitude,” but “let man feel”; and then,
matter let loose upon him, with all its maligni-
ties, and all its pleasures, roused up in him his
good and his bad passions, and made him as he
is, the best and the worst of created beings.


346 5goney, 5mitb’3
GRIEF AND PAIN DISCRIMINATED.—The dif-
ference between grief and pain is, that we apply
the expression grief to those uneasy sensations
which have not the body for theimmediate cause,
pain, to those which have. The loss of reputa-
tion occasions grief; the loss of a limb, pain.
EDUCATED GRIEF.—I am not speaking of
the highest-refined London grief, the grief of
civilization and softness; but the grief of a
savage and a child. The grief of nature in its
first stage is a violent, impatient, irritating
passion, very much resembling anger. The
natural effect of grief and pain is, to cry out
as loud as possible, and to kick and sprawl in
all possible directions; and I believe, if people
would do so much more than they do, they
would be all the better for it. The sitting on
monuments smiling, and the green and yellow
melancholy, is quite a subsequent business,
entirely the result of education.
PEEVISHNESS AND ENVY.—Peevishness is
resentment, excited by trifles. Envy is resent-
ment excited by superiority,+not by all superi-
ority, but by that to which you think you are
fairly entitled; for a plowinan does not envy a
king, but he envies another plowman who has a
shilling a week more than he has.


WUlit amo (Uligoom 347
EFFECT of HABIT ON FEAR.—Fear is the
apprehension of future evil. Habit diminishes
fear, when it raises up contrary associations,
and increases it, when it confirms the first
associations. A soldier, who has often escaped
begins to disunite the two ideas of dying and
fighting: he connects also with fighting, a sense
of duty, a love of glory. Habit, I should think,
would increase the sensation of fear, in a person
who had undergone two or three painful opera-
tions, and was about to submit to another. A
man works in a gunpowder-mill every day of
his life, with the utmost sang froid, which you
would not be very much pleased to enter for
half an hour: you have associated with the
manufactory nothing but the accidents you
have heard it is exposed to ; he has associated
with it the numberless days he has passed
there in perfect security. For the same reason
a sailor-boy stands unconcerned upon the mast;
a mason upon a ladder; and a miner descends
by his single rope. Their associations are
altered by experience: therefore, in estimating
the degree in which human creatures are under
the influence of this passion, we must always
remember their previous habits.
CONTAGION OF FEAR.—In the late attack
upon Egypt, our soldiers behaved with the most


348 $goney Smitb's
distinguished courage; but a physician did what,
I suppose, no soldier in the whole army would
have dared to have done;—he slept for three
nights in the sheets of a patient who had died
of the plague ! If the question had been to en-
counter noisy, riotous death he probably could
not have done it; but where pus and miasma
were concerned, he appears to have been a
perfect hero. Fear, is the most contagious of
all the passions; and the reason is obvious
enough why it becomes so : it is much more
likely that the cause of your fear should concern
me, more than the cause of any other of your
passions. If I see you very angry, it is not
probable, unless we happen to be intimately
connected, that the cause of your anger would
prove to be a cause of mine : but if I see you
dreadfully frightened, it immediately occurs to
me, that I am implicated in the same cause of
fear:—you have discovered that the play-house
in which we are both sitting, is on fire; you
have seen an enraged bull, running in the
streets: I am not easy for an instant, till I have
discovered the cause of your terror, and satisfied
myself that it does not concern us both.
SHYNESS.—The most curious offspring of
shame, is shyness;–a word always used, I
fancy, in a bad sense, to signify misplaced


TUlit ano (Uligoom 349
shame; for a person who felt only diffident,
exactly in proportion as he ought, would never
be called shy.
SHYNESS No VIRTUE.-A shy person not only
feels pain, and gives pain; but, what is the
worst, he incurs blame, for a want of that
rational and manly confidence, which is so
useful to those who possess it, and so pleasant
to those who witness it. I am severe against
shyness, because it looks like a virtue without
being a virtue; and because it gives us false
notions of what the real virtue is.
THE SHAME OF THE SOUL.-That dread of
shame, which virtue and wisdom teach, is, to
act so, from the cradle to the tomb, that no man
can cast upon you the shadow of reproach ; not
to swerve on this side for wealth, or on that side
for favor; but to go on speaking truly, and
acting justly : no man's oppressor, and no man’s
sycophant and slave. This is the shame of the
soul ; and these are the blushes of the inward
man; which are worth all the distortions of the
body, and all the crimson of the face.
MORAL EDUCATION.—In a strong mind, fear
grows up into cautious sagacity; grief, into ami-
able tenderness. Without the noble toil of


TÜlit amo (Oligoom 35I
which they receive from others, to respect
themselves. “Whenever,” says Mr. Lancaster
(in his book just published) “I met with a boy
particularly mischievous, I made him a monitor;
I never knew this fail.” The cause for the
promotion, and the kind of encouragement it
must occasion, I confess appear rather singular;
but of the effect, I have no sort of doubt.
INFLUENCE OF MUSIC.—It cost Timotheus, I
dare say, a great deal of fine playing, to throw
the soul of Alexander into a tumult of feeling;
but that once accomplished, the bard harped
him into any passion he pleased. However
this be true of Timotheus and Alexander, it is
certainly true of music in general. If we are
stupid or indolent, we resist its powers for some
time; but when the twangings, and the beatings,
and the breathings once reach the heart, and
set it moving with all its streams of life, the
mind bounds from grief to joy, from joy to
grief, without effort or pang, but seems rather
to derive its keenest pleasure from the quick
vicissitude of passion to which it is exposed. It
is the same with acting. It is difficult to
rouse the mind from an ordinary state, to a
dramatic state; but that once done, we glide
with ease from any passion, to one the most
opposite.


352 5gone g :5mitb’s
REMOTE IMPRESSIONs.—Any satisfaction we
have recently enjoyed, and of which the mem-
ory is fresh and perfect, operates on the will
with more violence than another, of which the
traces are decayed and obliterated. Contiguity
in time and place has an amazing effect upon
the passions. An enormous globe of fire, which
fell at Pekin, would not excite half the interest
which the most trifling phenomenon could give
birth to nearer home. I am persuaded many
men might be picked out of the streets who,
for 1,000 guineas paid down, would consent to
submit to a very cruel death in fifteen years
from the time of receiving the money.
GOOD TEMPER, GooD HUMOR, GOOD NA-
TURE.—There are three expressions in our
language, which, because they refer to the kind
and degree of the passions, require some ex-
planation in this place,—Temper, Humor, and
Nature. When used with adjectives of blame
and praise, temper and humor mean nearly the
same thing. A good-humored person, or a
good-tempered person, is one in whom the
intentions and actions of others do not easily
excite bad passions,—who does not mistake the
motives by which the rest of the world are
actuated towards him. A good-natured person
is a man of active benevolence; who seeks to


TUlit amo (Oligoom 353
give pleasure to others in little things. Good-
temper measures how a man is acted upon by
others; good-nature measures how he acts for
others. The presumption is, that the two ex-
cellences would be found uniformly conjoined
together; that a man who was passively benev-
olent, would be actively so too: but the reverse
is often the case in practice. There are many
men of inviolable temper, who never exert
themselves to do a good-natured thing, from
one end of the year to the other; and many in
the highest degree irritable, who are perpetu-
ally employed in little acts of good-nature.
GOOD FEELING.—To bring a large twelfth-
cake to a child, is good-nature; to give him
education, support, and protection, though he
have no natural claim upon you, is compassion,
and the summit of good-feeling.
STRENGTH of MIND.—What we call strength
of mind, implies the prevalence of the calm
passions above the violent.
CALM PASSIONS.—Without some calm pas-
sion,-some degree of some species of desire,
the mind could not long endure.
PLEASURE OF MISCHIEF.—Schoolboys climb


354 $goney, 5mitb's
walls and trees because it is agreeable to them
to be afraid of tumbling;-and this explains
the pleasure of mischief.
PLEASURE OF ExcITEMENT.—Young men
turn soldiers and sailors from the love of being
agitated ; and for the same reason, country gen-
tlemen leap over stone walls.
PLEASURE OF GRIEF.—The love of emotion
is the foundation of tragedy; and so pleasant is
it to be moved, that we set off for the express
purpose of looking excessively dismal for two
hours and a half, interspersed with long inter-
vals of positive sobbing.
STRENGTH of DESIRE.-Men differ, as their
desires are vehement or weak. Some can
hardly be said to have any desires at all; others
would overturn kingdoms, and mingle heaven
with earth, to effect the least of all their
desires.
THE PASSIONS OF LIFE.-Such are a few of
the most striking phenomena of the passions,
which move the world, and make up the secret
life and inward existence of man ; for what we
do see and know with certainty of any human
creature, is, whether he is lodged in marble or


356 59 oneg 5mitb’s
of occupations, movements, and agitations as
you go along; nothing can appear more intri-
cate, more impossible to be reduced to any
thing like rule or system ; and yet, a very few
elements put all this mass of human beings into
action. If a messenger from heaven were on a
sudden to annihilate the love of power, the love
of wealth, and the love of esteem in the human
heart, in half an hour's time the streets would
be as empty, and as silent, as they are in the
middle of the night.
SYMPATHY.—How ridiculous a play would be
of which a hungry man were the hero ! Why?
—because we never suffer from extreme hunger,
and have very little sympathy for it; there is
hardly any such thing known in civilized
society; the author himself would, probably, be
the only man in the whole play-house, who had
ever seriously felt the want of a dinner. But if
a nation of savages were to see such a drama
acted, they would see no ridicule in it at all;
because starving to death is, among them, no
uncommon thing; they have advanced such a
little way in civilization, that to fill their stom-
achs is the great and important object of life;
and I have no doubt that to an Indian audience,
the loss of a piece of venison might be the basis
of a tragedy which would fill every eye with


TUIft and (Uligoom 357
tears; but on the contrary, they might be very
likely to laugh, to hear a man complain of his
wounded honor, if it turned out that he had ten
days’ provision beforehand in his cabin.
ExTENSION OF KNow LEDGE.-Nothing can
be more important to the welfare of a commu-
nity, than the wide extension of rational
curiosity in the desire of knowledge ; it not
only increases the comforts, enlivens the feel-
ings, and improves the faculties of man, but it
forms the firmest barrier against the love of
pleasure, and stops the progress of corruption.
Every nation has its chances for happiness
increased, in proportion as it honors and re-
wards a spirit which, above all things, honors
and rewards it.
SIc Vos NON VoDIs.—A great battle is gained,
the plan and depositions of which are admirable;
the general who conducted the army is consid-
ered as a consummate master of the military
art, and arrives at the very summit of reputation
as an accomplished officer; but this plan of the
battle was drawn out for him the evening be-
fore by one of his aides-de-camp, whose original
conception it was, and to whom all the merit is
really due. Which is the most enviable situa-
tion ? His, who is praised without being praise-


358 5gomey 5mitb’g
worthy; or his, who is praiseworthy without
being praised ? Nobody here could entertain
a moment's doubt about the matter, that the
praiseworthiness is preferable to the praise. But
why? Merely from the love of praise; merely
because it, in the end, procures more praise.
PROPRIETY AND CONTRAST.—A great deal of
the propriety of common behavior is regulated
by contrast. No one could endure to see a
judge dance, or a bishop vault into his saddle.
A very regulated and subdued pleasantry and
relaxation, is all that can be allowed to men
habitually and officially dignified. Contrast in
trifling objects, which can excite no high emo-
tion, is the source of humor.
LovE OF TRAVELLING.—In the rage for trav-
elling, the object is not so much to gratify the
love of novelty as the love of excellence; not
merely to see new things, but new grand things,
new beautiful things, new excellence, in which
the grand and beautiful will, I should think,
upon reflection, be found to have a much
greater effect than the new.
USEFUI, Novel.Tv.–Novelty is the founda-
tion of the love of knowledge; which is nothing
but the desire of useful novelty.


VUlit amo Uligoom 359
ExPERIENCE.-The first time I make a voy-
age to the West Indies, I am afraid ; the tenth
time, I am not ;-why 2 not because my sensi-
bility is blunted: but because my reason is
instructed : I perceive there are much greater
resources in skill and science than I imagined;
that the ship can ride with safety over those
monstrous waves which at first bid fair to
destroy; that an unctuous and weather-beaten
personage, by turning a wheel near him, can
guide the prodigious animal, in whose inside I
am sailing, with the most unerring precision.
It is not that I meet the same danger better, but
that I have found out it is a much less danger.
HARDSHIP PRODUCED BY HABIT.-A very
curious part of habit, that though we feel
no pleasure in doing the thing, we feel a great
pain from not doing it.
NATURE'S PENALTIES.—No reason that I
Rnow of, can be given, why the habit of hav-
ing done a thing, should increase the tendency
to do it: all reason stops at this point, it is
not possible to explain it. The pain annexed
to the interruption of the habit, is the means by
which obedience to the law is secured. Nature
is too good a legislator to pass any act without
annexing a smart penalty to the violation of it.


360 5poneg 5mitb’s
HABIT OF VICE.-If we wish to know who is
the most degraded, and the most wretched of
human beings; if it be any object of curiosity
in moral science, to guage the dimensions of
wretchedness, and to see how deep the miseries
of man can reach ; if this be any object of curi-
osity, look for the man who has practised a vice
so long, that he curses it and clings to it; that
he pursues it, because he feels a great law of his
nature driving him on towards it; but, reaching
it, knows that it will gnaw his heart, and tear
his vitals, and make him roll himself in the
dust with anguish. Say every thing for vice
which you can say,+magnify any pleasure as
much as you please, but don’t believe you can
keep it; don't believe you have any secret for
sending on quicker the sluggish blood, and for
refreshing the faded nerve.
THE ORBIT of HABIT.-The period of time
in which a habit renews its action, or (if I may
be allowed the expression) the orbit of a habit,
is of very different dimensions. We may have
a habit of shrugging up the shoulders every
half-hour; or, of eating three eggs every morn-
ing ; or, of dining at a club once a month : or,
of going down to see a relation once a year:
but it is difficult to conceive any habit forming
itself for a period greater than a year. I can


TUlit amo (Uligoom 361
easily conceive that a person who sets off on
every 1st of June, to pay a visit, might have the
force of habit added to his other inducements,
and go, partly because he loved the persons,
partly because he had done it before ; but is it
easy to believe that there is a habit of doing
any thing every other year? or, how very
ridiculous it would sound for two persons to
say, “We agreed a long time ago to dine to-
gether every Bissextile, or leap year, and it is
now grown into a perfect habit l” This limita-
tion of habits to the period of a year, which I
by no means lay any great stress upon, but
which has some degree of truth in it, depends
somewhat upon the revolution of names and
appearances. To do any thing the first day of
a month, or on one particular day every year,
is to strengthen a habit by the recurrence of
names or seasons; but if an action be performed
every third or fourth year, the same name and
the same appearances have occurred, without
being connected with the same deed, and there-
fore the habit is impaired.
EFFECTS OF HABIT ON HUMAN NATURE.—
There is no degree of disguise or distortion
which human nature may not be made to
assume from habit; it grows in every direction
in which it is trained, and accommodates itself


362 $goney, 5mitb’s
to every circumstance which caprice or design
places in its way. It is a plant with such various
aptitudes and such opposite propensities, that
it flourishes in a hot-house, or the open air; is
terrestrial, or aquatic ; parasitical, or indepen-
dent; looks well in exposed situations, thrives
in protected ones; can bear its own luxuriance,
admits of amputation ; succeeds in perfect
liberty, and can submit to be bent down into
any of the forms of art: it is so flexible and
ductile, so accommodating and vivacious, that
of two methods of managing it—completely
opposite—neither the one nor the other need to
be considered as mistaken and bad.
HABIT OF SECLUSION.—Who could imagine
that men and women would shut themselves up
in monasteries and nunneries, living the absurd
life which they do, in such sort of places?—yet,
the greater part of nuns and friars who came
over here, immediately shut out the daylight of
common sense, and fell to forming nunneries
and monasteries again.
THE FIRE OF LIFE.-The passions are in
morals what motion is in physics: they create,
preserve, and animate; and without them, all
would be silence and death. Avarice guides
men across the deserts of the ocean ; pride
_-_


TUlit amo (UligöOnl 363
covers the earth with trophies and mausoleums
and pyramids; love turns men from their savage
rudeness; ambition shakes the very foundations
of kingdoms. By the love of glory, weak nations
swell into magnitude and strength. Whatever
there is of terrible, whatever there is of beauti-
ful in human events, all that shakes the soul to
and fro, and is remembered while thought and
flesh cling together, all these have their origin
from the passions. As it is only in storms, and
when their coming waters are driven up into
the air, that we catch a sight of the depths of
the sea, it is only in the season of perturbation
that we have a glimpse of the real internal
nature of man. It is then only that the might
of these eruptions shaking his frame dissipate
all the feeble coverings of opinion, and rend in
pieces that cobweb veil with which fashion
hides the feelings of the heart. It is then only
that Nature speaks her genuine feelings; and,
as at the last night of Troy, when Venus illumi-
nated the darkness, AEneas saw the gods them-
selves at work,+so may we, when the blaze of
passion is flung upon man's nature, mark in
him the signs of a celestial origin, and tremble
at the invisible agents of God!
THE Power of THE HEART.-The history of
the world shows us that men are not to be


364 5 goney, 5mitb's
counted by their numbers, but by the fire and
vigor of their passions; by their deep sense of
injury; by their memory of past glory; by their
eagerness for fresh fame; by their clear and
steady resolution of ceasing to live, or of achiev-
ing a particular object, which, when it is once
formed, strikes off a load of manacles and
chains, and gives free space to all heavenly and
heroic feehings. All great and extraordinary
actions come from the heart.
ENGLISH READING.—In the time you can
give to English reading you should consider
what it is most needful to have, what it is most
shameful to want—shirts and stockings, before
frills and collars. Such is the history of your
own country, to be studied in Hume, then in
Rapin's History of England, with Tindal's
Continuation. Hume takes you to the end of
James the second, Rapin and Tindal will carry
you to the end of Anne. Then, Cox’s “Life of
Sir Robert Walpole,” and the “Duke of Marl-
borough "; and these read with attention to
dates and geography. Then the history of the
other three or four enlightened nations of
\ Europe. For the English poets I will let you
off at present with Milton, Dryden, Pope, and
Shakespeare; and remember, always in books
keep the best company.
l


366 5goney Smitb's
RESPECT.-Not only study that those with
whom you live should habitually respect you,
but cultivate such manners as will secure the
respect of persons with whom you occasionally
converse. Keep up the habit of being respected,
and do not attempt to be more amusing and
agreeable than is consistent with the preserva-
tion of respect.
MAXIMS AND RULES OF LIFE.
Remember that every person, however low,
has rights and feelings. In all contentions let
peace be rather your object than triumph.
Value triumph only as the means of peace.
Remember that your children, your wife, and
your servants have rights and feeling; treat
them as you would treat persons who could
turn again. Apply these doctrines to the ad-
ministration of justice as a magistrate. Rank
poisons make good medicines; error and mis-
fortune may be turned into wisdom and im-
provement.
Do not attempt to frighten children and infe-
riors by passion ; it does more harm to your own
character than it does good to them. The same
thing is better done by firmness and persuasion.
_-_


Túlit amo (UligöOnl 367
If you desire the common people to treat you
as a gentleman, you must conduct yourself as a
gentleman should do to them.
When you meet with neglect, let it rouse you
to exertion, instead of mortifying your pride.
Set about lessening those defects which expose
you to neglect, and prove those excellences
which command attention and respect.
Against general fears, remember how very
precarious life is, take what care you will ; how
short it is, last as long as it ever does.
Rise early in the morning, not only to avoid
self-reproach, but to make the most of the little
life that remains; not only to save the hours
lost in sleep, but to avoid that languor which
is spread over mind and body for the whole of
that day in which you have lain late in bed.
Passion gets less and less powerful after every
defeat. Husband energy for the real demand
which the dangers of life make upon it.
Find fault, when you must find fault, in pri-
vate, if possible, and some time after the of
fence, rather than at the time. The blamed are
less inclined to resist when they are blamed


368 5poneg $mitb's
without witnesses; both parties are calmer, and
the accused party is struck with the forbearance
of the accuser, who has seen the fault, and
watched for a private and proper time for men-
tioning it.
Don't be too severe upon yourself and your
own failing; keep on ; don’t faint; be ener-
getic to the last.
If you wish to keep mind clear and body
healthy, abstain from all fermented liquors.
Fight against sloth, and do all you can to
make friends.
If old age is even a state of suffering, it is a
state of superior wisdom, in which man avoids
all the rash and foolish things he does in his
youth, and which make life dangerous and
painful.
Death must be distinguished from dying,
with which it is often confounded.
Reverence and stand in awe of yourself.
How nature delights and amuses us by vary-
ing even the character of insects: the ill-nature


TUlit and (Uligoom 371
notions assume a character of greater affinity to
his bodily feelings, and that, feeling pain, he
becomes malevolent; and if this be true of
great diseases, it is true in a less degree of the
smaller ailments of the body.
Get up in a morning, walk before breakfast,
pass four or five hours of the day in some active
employment; then eat and drink over-night,
lie in bed till one or two o'clock, saunter away
the rest of the day in doing nothing !—can any
two human beings be more perfectly dissimilar
than the same individual under these two dif-
ferent systems of corporeal management? and
is it not of as great importance towards happi-
ness to pay a minute attention to the body as it
is to study the wisdom of Chrysippus and Cran-
tor?—[Memoir.]
OF Occupation.—A good stout bodily ma-
chine being provided, we must be actively
occupied, or there can be little happiness.
If a good useful occupation be not provided,
it is so ungenial to the human mind to do
nothing, that men occupy themselves perilously,
as with gaming; or frivolously, as with walking
up and down a street at a watering-place, and
looking at the passers-by ; or malevolently, as
by teasing their wives and children. It is im-
possible to support, for any length of time, a


372 5goney, 5mitb's
state of perfect ennui, and if you were to shut
a man up for any length of time within four
walls, without occupation, he would go Inad.
If idleness do not produce vice or malevolence,
it commonly produces melancholy.
A stockbroker or a farmer have no leisure for
imaginary wretchedness; their minds are usually
hurried away by the necessity of noticing ex-
ternal objects, and they are guaranteed from
that curse of idleness, the eternal disposition
to think of themselves.
If we have no necessary occupation, it be-
comes extremely difficult to make to ourselves
occupations as entirely absorbing as those which
necessity imposes.
The profession which a man makes for him-
self is seldom more than a half profession, and
often leaves the mind in a state of vacancy and
inoccupation. We must lash ourselves up how-
ever, as well as we can, to a notion of its great
importance; and as the dispensing power is in
our own hands, we must be very jealous of
remission and of idleness.
It may seem absurd that a gentleman who
does not live by the profits of farming should
rise at six o'clock in the morning to look after
his farm; or, if botany be his object, that he
should voyage to Iceland in pursuit of it. He
is the happier however for his eagerness; his


"Clit amo (Oligoom s
mind is more fully employed, and he is mus.
more effectually guaranteed from all the miser-
ies of enmui.
When a very clever man, or a very great man,
takes to cultivating turnips and retiring, it is
generally an imposture. The moment men
cease to talk of their turnips, they are wretched
and full of self-reproach. Let every man be
occupied, and occupied in the highest employ-
ment of which his nature is capable, and die
with the consciousness that he has done his
best /—[Memoir.]
OF FRIENDSHIP.-Life is to be fortified by
many friendships. To love, and to be loved, is
the greatest happiness of existence. If I lived
under the burning sun of the equator, it would
be a pleasure to me to think that there were
many human beings on the other side of the
world who regarded and respected me; I could
and would not live if I were alone upon the
earth, and cut off from the remembrance of my
fellow-creatures. It is not that a man has occa-
sion often to fall back upon the kindness of his
friends; perhaps he may never experience the
necessity of doing so; but we are governed by
our imaginations, and they stand there as a
solid and impregnable bulwark against all the
evils of 11fe.


374 5poneg 5mitb's
Friendships should be formed with persons
of all ages and conditions, and with both sexes.
I have a friend who is a bookseller, to whom I
have been very civil, and who would do any
thing to serve me; and I have two or three
small friendships among persons in much
humbler walks of life, who, I verily believe,
would do me a considerable kindness according
to their means. It is a great happiness to form
a sincere friendship with a woman; but a friend-
ship among persons of different sexes rarely or
ever takes place in this country. The austerity
of our manners hardly admits of such a connec-
tion;–compatible with the most perfect inno-
cence, and a source of the highest possible
delight to those who are fortunate enough to
form it.—[Memoir.]
FRANK EXPLANATIONS.—I am for frank ex-
planations with friends in cases of affronts.
They sometimes save a perishing friendship,
and even place it on a firmer basis than at first;
but secret discontent must always end badly.—
[Memoir.]
OF CHEERFULNESS.–Cheerfulness and good
spirits depend in a great degree upon bodily
causes, but much may be done for the pro-
motion of this turn of mind. Persons subject
_-_


370 $goney Smitb's
of frying ; talked, as is our wont, of roads,
weather, and turnips; that done, began to grow
hungry, then serious, then impatient. At last
a stripling, evidently caught up for the occa-
sion, opened the door and beckoned our host
out of the room. After some moments of awful
suspense, he returned to us with a face of much
distress, saying, “the woman assisting in the
kitchen had mistaken the soup for dirty water,
and had thrown it away, so we must do without
it"; we all agreed it was perhaps as well we
should, under the circumstances. At last, to
our joy, dinner was announced; but oh, ye
gods ! as we entered the dining-room what a
gale met our nose ! the venison was high ; the
venison was uneatable, and was obliged to
follow the soup with all speed.
Dinner proceeded, but our spirits flagged
under these accumulated misfortunes. There
was an ominous pause between the first and
second course; we looked each other in the
face—what new disaster awaited us? The
pause became fearful. At last the door burst
open, and the boy rushed in, calling out aloud:
“Please, Sir, has Betty any right to leather I?”
What human gravity could stand this 2 We
roared with laughter ; all took part against
Betty, obtained the second course with some
difficulty, bored each other the usual time,
- _-_


TUlit amo (Oligoom 377
ordered our carriages, expecting our post-boys
to be drunk, and were grateful to Providence
for not permitting them to deposit us in a wet
ditch. So much for dinners in the country.—
[Memoir.]
IMPROMPTU ON MR. JEFFREY RIDING on A
DONKEY.
Witty as Horatius Flaccus,
As great a Jacobin as Gracchus,
Short, though not so fat, as Bacchus,
Riding on a little Jackass.
SYDNEY SMITH IN A YORKSHIRE LIVING...—
A diner-out, a wit, and a popular preacher, I
was suddenly caught up by the Archbishop of
York, and transported to my living in York-
shire, where there had not been a resident cler-
gyman for a hundred and fifty years. Fresh from
London, not knowing a turnip from a carrot, I
was compelled to farm three hundred acres, and
without capital to build a parsonage-house.
I asked and obtained three years' leave from
the Archbishop, in order to effect an exchange,
if possible; and fixed myself meantime at a
small village two miles from York, in which
was a fine old house of the time of Queen Eliza-
beth, where resided the last of the squires, with
his lady, who looked as if she had walked


378 5ponep 5mitb's
straight out of the Ark, or had been the wife of
Enoch. He was a perfect specimen of the Trul-
libers of old ; he smoked, hunted, drank beer
at his door with his grooms and dogs, and spelt
over the county paper on Sundays.
At first, he heard I was a Jacobin and a dan-
gerous fellow, and turned aside as I passed: but
at length, when he found the peace of the vil-
lage undisturbed, harvests much as usual, Juno
and Ponto uninjured, he first bowed, then called,
and at last reached such a pitch of confidence
that he used to bring the papers, that I might
explain the difficult words to him; actually dis-
covered that I had made a joke, laughed till I
thought he would have died of convulsions, and
ended by inviting me to see his dogs.
All my efforts for an exchange having failed,
I asked and obtained from my friend, the Arch-
bishop, another year to build in. And I then
set my shoulder to the wheel in good earnest;
sent for an architect; he produced plans which
would have ruined me. I made him my bow :
“You build for glory, Sir ; I, for use.” I re-
turned him his plans, with five-and-twenty
pounds, and sat down in Iny thinking-chair;
and in a few hours Mrs. Sydney and I concocted
a plan which has produced what I call the model
of parsonage-houses.
I then took to horse to provide bricks and


TJUlit amo (Uligoom 379
timber; was advised to make my own bricks
of my own clay; of course, when the kiln was
opened, all bad ; mounted my horse again, and
in twenty-four hours had bought thousands of
bricks and tons of timber. Was advised by
neighboring gentlemen to employ oxen : bought
four, -Tug and Lug, Haul and Crawl ; but Tug
and Lug took to fainting, and required buckets
of sal-volatile, and Haul and Crawl to lie down
in the mud. So I did as I ought to have done
at first,-took the advice of the farmer instead
of the gentleman; sold my oxen, bought a team
of horses, and at last, in spite of a frost which
delayed me six weeks, in spite of walls running
down with wet, in spite of the advice and re-
monstrances of friends who predicted our death,
in spite of an infant of six months old who had
never been out of the house, I landed my family
in my new house nine months after laying the
first stone, on the 20th of March; and performed
my promise to the letter to the Archbishop, by
issuing forth at midnight with a lantern to meet
the last cart, with the cook and the cat, which
had stuck in the mud, and fairly established
them before twelve o'clock at night in the new
parsonage-house;—a feat, taking ignorance, in-
experience, and poverty into consideration, re-
quiring, I assure you, no small degree of energy.
It made me a very poor man for many years,


382 5goney, 5mitb's
a habit of parting company. On one occasion I
found myself suddenly prostrate in the streets
of York, much to the delight of the Dissenters.
Another time, my horse Calamity flung me over
his head into a neighboring parish, as if I had
been a shuttlecock, and I felt grateful it was
not into a neighboring planet; but as no harm
came of it, I might have persevered, perhaps,
if, on a certain day, a Quaker tailor from a
neighboring village, to which I had said I was
going to ride, had not taken it into his head to
call, soon after my departure, and requested to
see Mrs. Sydney. She instantly, conceiving I
was thrown, if not killed, rushed down to the
man, exclaiming : “Where is he? where is
your master 2 is he hurt?” The astonished
and quaking snip stood silent from surprise.
Still more agitated by his silence, she exclaimed:
“Is he hurt? I insist upon knowing the worst.”
“Why, please, ma'am, it is only thy little bill,
a very small account, I wanted thee to settle,”
replied he, in much surprise. After this, you
may suppose, I sold my horse: however, it is
some comfort to know that my friend Sir
George is one fall ahead of me, and is certainly
a worse rider. It is a great proof, too, of the
liberality of this county, where everybody can
ride as soon as they are born, that they tolerate
me at all.—[Memoir.]


TUlit amo (Uligöom 383
IDEFINITION OF A NICE PERSON. — A nice
person is neither too tall nor too short, looks
clean and cheerful, has no prominent feature,
makes no difficulties, is never misplaced, sits
bodkin, is never foolishly affronted, and is void
of affectations.
A nice person helps you well at dinner,
understands you, is always gratefully received
by young and old, Whig and Tory, grave and
gay. -
There is something in the very air of a nice
person which inspires you with confidence,
makes you talk, and talk without fear of mali-
cious misrepresentation ; you feel that you are
reposing upon a nature which God has made
Rind, and created for the benefit and happiness
of society. It has the effect upon the mind
which soft air and a fine climate have upon the
body.
A nice person is clear of little, trumpery
passions, acknowledges superiority, delights in
talent, shelters humility, pardons adversity,
forgives deficiency, respects all men's rights,
never stops the bottle, is never long and never
wrong, always knows the day of the month and
the name of everybody at table, and never gives
pain to any human being.
If anybody is wanted for a party, a nice per-
son is the first thought of ; when the child is


"Ulit amo (Uligoom 385
(whatever his opinions may be) the most dis-
tant reflections on the Establishment. He
1<nows that you are admired, and he admires
you as far as is compatible with good-breeding.
He sees that, though young, you are at the
head of a great establishment, and he infuses
into his manner and conversation that respect
which is so pleasing to all who exercise author-
ity. He leaves you in perfect good-humor with
yourself, because you perceive how much and
how successfully you have been studied.
In the meantime the gentleman on the other
side of you (a highly moral and respectable
man) has been crushing little sensibilities, and
violating little proprieties, and overlooking
little discriminations; and without violating
anything which can be called a rule, or com-
mitting what can be denominated a fault, has
displeased and dispirited you, from wanting
that fine vision which sees little things, and
that delicate touch which handles them, and
that fine sympathy which this superior moral
organization always bestows.
So great an evil in society is hardness, and
that want of peception of the minute circum-
stances which occasion pleasure or pain.
ADDREss to THE MACHINE BURNERs (1828)
–7 o Mr. Swing : The wool your coat is made


TSUlit amo (Uligoom 387
the ground in Otaheite. If you expect manu-
facturers to turn against machinery, look at the
consequence. They may succeed, perhaps, in
driving machinery out of the town they live in,
but they often drive the manufacturer out of
the town also. He sets up his trade in some
distant part of the country, gets new men, and
the disciples of Swing are left to starve in the
scene of their violence and folly. In this way
the lace manufacture travelled in the time of
Ludd, Swing's grandfather, from Nottingham
to Tiverton. Suppose a free importation of
corn to be allowed, as it ought to be, and will
be. If you will not allow farmers to grow corn
here as cheap as they can, more corn will come
from America; for every threshing-machine
that is destroyed, more Americans will be
employed, not more Englishmen.
Swing ! Swing ! you are a stout fellow, but
you are a bad adviser. The law is up, and the
Judge is coming. Fifty persons in Kent are
already transported, and will see their wives
and children no more. Sixty persons will be
hanged in Hampshire. There are two hundred
for trial in Wiltshire—all scholars of Swing ! I
am no farmer : I have not a machine bigger
than a pepper-mill. I am a sincere friend to the
poor, and I think every man should live by his
labor: but it cuts me to the very heart to see


388 $yoney, 5mitb’s
honest husbandmen perishing by that worst of
all machines, the gallows, under the guidance
of that most fatal of all leaders—Swing —
[Memoir.]
ADVICE TO PARISHIONERS.–It is of import-
ance not only that we should do good, but that
we should do it in the best manner. A little
judgment and a little reflection added to the
gift doubles the value. Now it is lamentable
to see how ignorant the poor are. I do not
mean of reading and writing, but about the
common affairs of life. They are as helpless
as children in all difficulties. Nothing would
be so useful as some short and cheap book, to
instruct them what to do, to whom to go, and
to give them a little abvice; I mean, mere
practical advice. I have begun something of
this sort for my parishioners; here it is.
If you begin stealing a little, you will go on
from little to much, and soon become a regular
thief; and then you will be hanged or sent
over seas to Botany Bay. And give me leave
to tell you, transportation is no joke. Up at
five in the morning, dressed in a jacket half
blue half yellow, chained on to another person
like two dogs, a man standing over you with a
great stick, weak porridge for breakfast, bread
and water for dinner, boiled beans for supper.


390 5pomeg smith's
now holds a farm under the squire of 500/.
per annum. Such things are constantly hap-
pening.
I will have no swearing. There is pleasure
in a pint of ale, but what pleasure is there in
an oath P A swearer is a low, vulgar person.
Swearing is fit for a tinker or a razor-grinder,
not for an honest laborer in my parish.
I must positively forbid all poaching ; it is
absolute ruin to yourself and your family. In
the end you are sure to be detected,—a hare in
one pocket and a pheasant in the other. How
are you to pay ten pounds? You have not ten
pence beforehand in the world. Daniel's
breeches are unpaid for ; you have a hole in
your hat, and want a new one ; your wife, an
excellent woman, is about to lie in,_and you
are, all of a sudden, called upon by the Justice
to pay ten pounds. I shall never forget the
sight of poor Cranford, hurried to Taunton
Gaol; a wife and three daughters on their
knees to the Justice, who was compelled to do
his duty, and commit him. The next day,
beds, chairs, and clothes sold, to get the father
out of gaol. Out of gaol he came ; but the
poor fellow could not bear the sight of his
naked cottage, and to see his family pinched
with hunger. You know how he ended his
days. Was there a dry eye in the churchyard


TUI it and (Uligoom 391
when he was buried; It was a lesson to poach-
ers. It is indeed a desperate and foolish trade.
Observe, I am not defending the game laws,
but I am advising you, as long as the game
laws exist, to fear them, and to take care that
you and your family are not crushed by them.
And, then, smart stout young men hate the
gamekeeper, and make it a point of courage
and spirit to oppose him. Why? The game-
Reeper is paid to protect the game, and he
would be a very dishonest man if he did not
do his duty. What right have you to bear mal-
ice against him for this After all, the game
in justice belongs to the land-owners, who feed
it, and not to you, who have no land at all, and
can feed nothing.
I don’t like that red nose, and those blear -
eyes, and that stupid down-cast look. You are
a drunkard. Another pint, and one pint more;
a glass of gin and water, rum and milk, cider
and pepper, a glass of peppermint, and all the
beastly fluids which drunkards pour down their
throats. It is very possible to conquer it, if
you will but be resolute. I remember a man
in Staffordshire who was drunk every day of
his life. Every farthing he earned went to the
ale-house. One evening he staggered home,
and found at a late hour his wife sitting alone,
and drowned in tears. He was a man not de-


392 $goney Smitb's
|
ficient in natural affections; he appeared to be
struck with the wretchedness of the woman,
and with some eagerness asked her why she
was crying. “I don't like to tell you, James,”
she said, “but if I must, I must; and truth is,
my children have not touched a morsel of any
thing this blessed day. As for me, never mind
me; I must leave you to guess how it has fared
with me. But not one morsel of food could I
beg or buy for those children that lie on that
bed before you ; and I am sure, James, it is
better for us all we should die, and to my soul
I wish we were dead.” “Dead l’” said James,
starting up as if a flash of lightning had darted
upon him ; “dead, Sally You, and Mary,
and the two young ones dead? Look ye, my
lass, you see what I am now, like a brute. I
have wasted your substance,—the curse of God
is upon me, I am drawing near to the pit of
destruction,--but there's an end; I feel there's
an end. Give me that glass, wife.” She gave
it him with astonishment and fear. He turned
it topsy-turvey; and, striking the table with
great violence, and flinging himself on his
knees, made a most solemn and affecting vow
to God of repentance and sobriety. From that
moment to the day of his death he drank no
fermented liquor, but confined himself entirely
to tea and water. I never saw so sudden and


TJUlit and UÇligöOm 393
astonishing a change. His looks became
healthy, his cottage neat, his children were
clad, his wife was happy; and twenty times
the poor man and his wife, with tears in their
eyes, have told me the story, and blessed the
evening of the 14th of March, the day of
James' restoration, and have shown me the
glass he held in his hand when he made the
vow of sobriety. It is all nonsense about not
being able to work without ale, and gin, and
cider, and fermented liquors. Do lions and
cart-horses drink ale? It is mere habit. If
you have good nourishing food, you can do
very well without ale. Nobody works harder
than the Yorkshire people, and for years to-
gether there are many Yorkshire laborers who
never taste ale. I have no objection, you will
observe, to a moderate use of ale, or any other
liquor you can afford to purchase. My objec-
tion is, that you cannot afford it; that every
penny you spend at the ale-house comes out of
stomachs of the poor children, and strips off
the clothes of the wife.
My dear little Nanny, don't believe a word
he says. He merely means to ruin and deceive
you. You have a plain answer to give : “When
I am axed in the church, and the parson has
read the service, and all about it is written down
in the book, then I will listen to your nonsense,


394 5goney, 5mitb’s
and not before.” Am not I a Justice of the |
Peace, and have not I had a hundred foolish
girls brought before me, who have all come
with the same story? “Please, your Worship,
he is a false man ; he promised me marriage
over and over again.” I confess I have often
wished for the power of hanging these rural
lovers. But what use is my wishing P All
that can be done with the villain is to make
him pay half-a-crown a week, and you are
handed over to the poor-house, and to infamy.
Will no example teach you? Look to Mary
Willet,_three years ago the handsomest and
best girl in the village, now a slattern in the
poor-house ! Look at Harriet Dobson, who
trusted in the promises of James Harefield's
son, and, after being abandoned by him, went
away in despair with a party of soldiers How
can you be such a fool as to surrender your
character to the stupid flattery of a ploughboy P
If the evening is pleasant, and birds, and flow-
ers bloom, is that any reason why you are to
forget God's Word, the happiness of your fam-
ily, and your own character? What is a woman
worth without character? A profligate carpenter,
or a debauched watchmaker, may gain busi-
ness from their skill; but how is a profligate
woman to gain her bread Who will receive
/her?


Túit amo (Uligoom 397
of her; another, to keep a box of sugar-plums
on the chimney-piece, and a kettle simmering
on the hob.-[Memoir.]
THE SCARS OF LIFE.-Every one must go to
his grave with his heart scarred like a soldier's
body, -sometimes a parent, sometimes a child,
a friend, a husband, or a wife. Thus the bands
of this life are gradually loosened, and death
at last is more welcome than the comfortless
solitude of the world.—[Memoir.]
FAREwFLL.—All adieus are melancholy; and
principally, I believe, because they put us in
mind of the last of all adieus, when the apothe-
cary, and the heir apparent, and the nurse who
weeps for pay, surround the bed : when the
curate, engaged to dine three miles off, mum-
bles hasty prayers; when the dim eye closes
forever in the midst of empty pill-boxes, galli-
pots, phials, and jugs of barley-water. At that
time, a very distant one, I hope, my dear
Madam,_may the memory of good deeds sup-
port you!—[Memoir.]
Journey of LIFE.-We talk of human life
as a journey, but how variously is that journey
performed ! There are some who come forth
girt, and shod, and mantled, to walk on velvet


398 5goney, 5mitb's
lawns and smooth terraces, where every gale is
arrested, and every beam is tempered. There
are others who walk on the Alpine paths of
life, against driving misery, and through stormy
sorrows, over sharp afflictions; walk with bare
feet, and naked breast, jaded, mangled, and
chilled.—[Memoir.]
MELANCHOLY IN WOMEN.—God has made
us with strong passions and little wisdom. To
inspire the notion that infallible vengeance will
be the consequence of every little deviation
from our duty is to encourage melancholy and
despair. Women have often ill health and
irritable nerves; they want moreover that
strong coercion over the fancy which judgment
exercises in the minds of men; hence they are
apt to cloud their minds with secret fears and
superstitious presentiments. Check, my dear
Madam, as you value their future comfort,
every appearance of this in your daughters;
dispel that prophetic gloom which dives into
futurity, to extract sorrow from days and years
to come, and which considers its own unhappy
visions as the decrees of Providence. We know
nothing of to-morrow ; our business is to be
good and happy to-day.—[Memoir.]
ExPENDITURE OF LIFE.-Live always in the
-.
*


TUlit amo (Uligðom 399
best company when you read. No one in youth
thinks on the value of time. Do you ever
reflect how you pass your life? If you live to
seventy-two, which I hope you may, your life
is spent in the following manner:—An hour a
day is three years ; this makes twenty-seven
years sleeping, — nine years dressing, — nine
years at table, six years playing with children,
—nine years walking, drawing, and visiting,
six years shopping, and three years quarrel-
ling.—[Memoir.]
A ONE-BOOK MAN.—Some men have only
one book in them; others, a library.—[Memoir.]
SHAKES OF THE HAND.—There is nothing
more characteristic than shakes of the hand.
I have classified them. There is the high offi-
cial,—the body erect, and a rapid, short shake,
near the chin. There is the mortmain,_the flat
hand introduced into your palm, and hardly
conscious of its contiguity. The digital,—one
finger held out, much used by the high clergy.
There is the shakus rusticus, where your hand
is seized in an iron grasp, betokening rude
health, warm heart, and distance from the
Metropolis; but producing a strong sense of
relief on your part when you find your hand
released and your fingers unbroken. The next


4O2 5 goney, 5mitb's
which a sensible girl should aim in manners is
to be well-behaved without being insipid. It is
far better nevertheless to fail in the latter than
in the former point; but life is too short to get
over a bad manner: besides, manners are the
shadows of virtue.—[Memoir.]
FALLACIES OF SOCIETY.—It is astonishing
the influence foolish apothegms have upon the
mass of mankind, though they are not unfre-
quently fallacies. Here are a few I amused
myself with writing, long before Bentham’s
book on Fallacies.
Fallacy I.-Because I have gone through it, my son shall go
through it also.
A man gets well pummelled at a public
school ; is subject to every misery and every
indignity which seventeen years of age can
inflict upon nine and ten; has his eye nearly
knocked out, and his clothes stolen and cut to
pieces; and twenty years afterwards, when he
is a chrysalis, and has forgotten the miseries of
his grub state, is determined to act a manly
part in life, and says, “I passed through all
that myself, and I am determined my son shall
pass through it as I have done ''': and away
goes his bleating progeny to the tyranny and
servitude of the long chamber or the large


(Ulit amo (Uligoom 4O3
dormitory. It would surely be much more
rational to say, “Because I have passed through
it, I am determined my son shall not pass
through it; because I was kicked for nothing,
and cuffed for nothing, and fagged for every
thing, I will spare all these miseries to my
child.” It is not for any good which may be
derived from this rough usage; that has not
been weighed and considered; few persons are
capable of weighing its effects into character;
but there is a sort of compensatory and con-
solatory notion that the present generation
(whether useful or not, no matter) are not to
come off scot-free, but are to have their share
of ill-usage; as if the black eye and bloody
nose which Master John Jackson received in
1800, are less black and bloody by the applica-
tion of similar violence to similar parts of
Master Thomas Jackson, the son, in 1830. This
is not only sad nonsense, but cruel nonsense.
The only use to be derived from the recollec-
tion of what we have suffered in youth is a
fixed determination to screen those we educate
from every evil and inconvenience, from sub-
jection to which there are not cogent reasons
for submitting. Can anything be more stupid
and preposterous than this concealed revenge
upon the rising generation, and latent envy lest
they should avail themselves of the improve-


404 5pomeg 5mitb’s
ments time has made, and pass a happier youth
than their fathers have done?
Fallacy II.-I have said I will do it, and I will do it; I will
stick to my word.
This fallacy proceeds from confounding reso-
1utions with promises. If you have promised
to give a man a guinea for a reward, or to sell
him a horse or a field, you must do it; you are
dishonest if you do not. But if you have made
a resolution to eat no meat for a year, and
everybody about you sees that you are doing
mischief to your constitution, is it any answer
to say, you have said so, and you will stick to
your word P. With whom have you made the
contract but with yourself? and if you and
yourself, the two contracting parties, agree to
break the contract, where is the evil, or who is
injured 2
Fallacy III.-I object to half measures,-it is neither one
thing nor the other.
But why should it be either one thing or the
other ? why not something between both 2
Why are half measures necessarily or probably
unwise measures 7 I am embarrassed in my
circumstances;–one of my plans is to persevere
boldly in the same line of expense, and to trust
-


"Clít amo (Oligoom 405
to the chapter of accidents for some increase
of fortune;—the other is to retire entirely from
the world, and to hide myself in a cottage;—
but I end with doing neither, and take a middle
course of diminished expenditure. I do neither
one thing nor the other, but possibly act wiser
than if I had done either. I am highly offend-
ed by the conduct of an acquaintance; I neither
overlook it entirely nor do I proceed to call him
out; I do neither, but show him, by a serious
change of manner, that I consider myself to
have been ill-treated. I effect my object by
half-measures. I cannot agree entirely with
the Opposition or the Ministry; it may very
easily happen that my half-measures are wiser
than the extremes to which they are opposed.
But it is a sort of metaphor which debauches
the understanding of foolish people; and when
half-measures are mentioned they have much
the same feeling as if they were cheated—as if
they had bargained for a whole bushel and re-
ceived but half. To act in extremes is some-
times wisdom ; to avoid them is sometimes
wisdom; every measure must be judged of by
its own particular circumstances.—[Memoir.]
MATRIMONY.—Did you ever hear my defini-
tion of marriage 2 It is, that it resembles a
pair of shears, so joined that they cannot be


4O6 $goney, 5mitb's
separated; often moving in opposite directions,
yet always punishing any one who comes be-
tween them.—[Memoir.]
THoMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY.-I always
prophesied his greatness from the first moment
I saw him, then a very young and unknown
man, on the Northern Circuit. There are no
limits to his knowledge, on small subjects as
well as great; he is like a book in breeches.
. . . Yes, I agree, he is certainly more agreea-
ble since his return from India. His enemies
might, perhaps, have said before (though I
never did so) that he talked rather too much ;
but now he has occasional flashes of silence,
that make his conversation perfectly delightful.
But what is far better and more important than
all this is, I believe Macaulay to be incorrupti-
ble. You might lay ribbons, stars, garters,
wealth, titles, before him in vain. He has an
honest, genuine love of his country, and the
world could not bribe him to neglect her inter-
ests.-[Memoir.]
CLASSES of MANKIND.—I have divided man-
kind into classes. There is the Noodle, very
numerous, but well known. The Affliction-
woman,—a valuable member of society, gen-
erally an ancient spinster, or distant relation


408 5goney, 5mitb'3
numerous, who exclaim: “Well! as sure as ever
I put on my best bonnet; it is certain to rain,”
etc. There are many more, but I forget them.
Oh, yes 1 there is another class, as you say;
people who are always treading on your gouty
foot, or talking in your deaf ear, or asking you
to give them something with your lame hand,
stirring up your weak point, rubbing your sore,
etc.—[Memoir.]
TASTE FOR MUSIC.—All musical people seem
to me happy; it is the most engrossing pur-
suit; almost the only innocent and unpunished
passion.
SHADOws OF GRIEF.—Why destroy present
happiness by a distant misery, which may never
come at all, or you may never live to see it?
for every substantial grief has twenty shadows,
and most of them shadows of your own
making.
WIT.—A man of small understanding is
merry where he can, not where he should.
Lightning must, I think, be the wit of heaven.
GREAT PATRIOTS.—No man, I fear, can effect
great benefits for his country without some
sacrifice of the minor virtues.


TUI it amo (Oligoom 4O9
FACETIAE.
The reigning bore at one time in Edin-
burgh was : his favorite subject, the
North Pole. Itmattered not how far south you
began, you found yourself transported to the
north pole before you could take breath; no one
escaped him. Sydney Smith declared he should
invent a slip-button. Jeffrey fled from him as
from the plague, when possible; but one day his
arch-tormentor met him in a narrow lane, and
began instantly on the north pole. Jeffrey in
despair, and out of all patience, darted past him
exclaiming, “D– the north pole !” Sydney
Smith met him shortly after, boiling with indig-
nation at Jeffrey's contempt of the north pole.
“Oh, my dear fellow,” said he, “never mind;
no one minds what Jeffrey says, you know; he is
a privileged person ; he respects nothing, abso-
lutely nothing. Why, you will scarcely believe
it, but it is not more than a week ago that I heard
Him speak disrespectfully of the equator l’’
Some one asked if the Bishop of Was
going to marry. “Perhaps he may,” said Syd-
ney Smith ; “yet how can a bishop marry P
How can he flirt 2 The most he can say is, ‘I
will see you in the vestry after service.’”
Oh, don’t read those twelve volumes till they


4 IO 5 goney, 5mitb’s
are made into a consommé of two. Lord Dudley
did still better, he waited till they blew over.
Talking of tithes: “It is an atrocious way of
paying the clergy. The custom of tithein kind
will seem incredible to our posterity; no one
will believe in the ramiferous priest officiating
in the cornfield.”
Our friend
like Piccadilly.
makes all the country smell
Sydney Smith observed how many of the
most eminent men of the world had been
diminutive in person; and after naming several
among the ancients, he added, “Why, look
there, at Jeffrey ; and there is my little friend
, who has not body enough to cover his
mind decently with ; his intellect is improperly
exposed.”
Don't mind the caprices of fashionable wo-
men ; they are as gross as poodles fed on milk
and muffins.
Simplicity is a great object in a great book; it
is not wanted in a short one.
The great charm of Sheridan's speaking was
his multifariousness of style.


412 $goney, 5mitb'3
Mark Antony, “Oh, mighty Jeffrey ! dost thou
lie so low 2 Are all thy conquests, glories, tri-
umphs, spoils, shrunk to this little measure ?”
when he was abruptly silenced, in full career by
the voice of old Henning, exclaiming, “Stop,
stop, Mr. Smith ! for Heaven's sakestop ! If Lord
Jeffrey laughs, my cast is spoilt.”
The charm of London is that you are never
glad or sorry for ten minutes together ; in the
country you are the one and the other for
weeks.
There is a New Zealand attorney just arrived
in London, with 6s. 8d. tattooed all over his
face.
Yes, he has spent all his life in letting down
empty buckets into empty wells; and he is
frittering away his age in trying to draw them
up again.
If you masthead a sailor for not doing his
duty, why should you not weathercock a par-
ishioner for refusing to pay tithes?
“How is ?” “He is not very well.”
“Why, what is the matter?” “Oh, don't you
know he has produced a couplet? When our


TÜlit amo (Uligoom 4I3
friend is delivered of a couplet, with infinite
labor and pain, he takes to his bed, has straw
laid down, the knocker tied up, expects his
friends to call and make inquiries, and the an-
swer at the door invariably is, ‘Mr. and
his little couplet are as well as can be expected.”
When he produces an Alexandrine he keeps his
bed a day longer.”
You will find a Scotchman always says what
is undermost. I, on the contrary, say every
thing that comes uppermost, and have all sorts
of bad jokes put upon me in consequence. An
American published a book, and declared I had
told him there were more mad Quakers in
lunatic asylums than any other sect;-quite an
invention on his part. Another time Prince
P— M– published my conversations;
so when. I next met him, I inquired whether
this was to be a printed or manuscript one, as I
should talk accordingly. He did his best to
blush.
Never neglect your fireplaces: I have paid
great attention to mine, and could burn you all
out in a moment. Much of the cheerfulness of
life depends upon it. Who could be miserable
with that fire? What makes a fire so pleasant is,
I think, that it is a live thing in a dead room.


4I4 $goney 5mitb's
Such is the horror the French have of our
cuisine that at the dinner given in honor of
Guizot at the Athenaeum, they say his cook
was heard to exclaim, “Ah, mon pauvre
maitre je ne le reverrai plus.”
I believe the parallelogram between Oxford
Street, Piccadilly, Regent Street, and Hyde
Park, encloses more intelligence and human
ability, to say nothing of wealth and beauty,
than the world has ever collected in such a
space before.
When I praised the author of the New Poor
Law the other day, three gentlemen at the
table took it to themselves, and blushed up to
the eyes.
Yes! you find people ready enough to do the
Samaritan, without the oil and twopence.
It is a great proof of shyness to crumble
bread at dinner. “Oh, I see you are afraid of
me” (turning to a young lady who sat by him),
“you crumble your bread. I do it when I sit by
the Bishop of London, and with both hands
when I sit by the Archbishop.”
Addressing Rogers: “My dear R., if we


"Ulit amo (Oligoom 4I5
were both in America, we should be tarred
and feathered ; and lovely as we are by nature,
I should be an ostrich and you an emu.”
I once saw a dressed statue of Venus in a
serious house—the Venus Millinaria.
You flavor every thing; you are the vanille
of society.
I fully intended going to America; but my
parishioners held a meeting, and came to a
resolution that they could not trust me with
the canvas-back ducks: and I felt they were
right, so gave up the project.
My living in Yorkshire was so far out of the
way that it was actually twelve miles from a
lemon.
Of course, if ever I do go to a fancy ball at
all, I should go as a Dissenter.
I think it was Luttrell who used to say
's face always reminded him of boiled
mutton and near relations.” -
4 -
Don't you know, as the French say, there are
three sexes—men, women, and clergymen 2
One of my great objections to the country is,


416 5poneg 5mitb’s
that you get your letters but once a day; here
they come every five minutes.
On some one offering him oat-cake, “No, I
can't eat oat-cake, it is too rich for me.”
Harrowgate is the most heaven-forgotten
country under the sun. When I saw it there
were only nine mangy fir trees there ; and
even they all leaned away from it.
Dining at Mr. Grenville's, Sydney Smith as
usual arrived before the rest of the party. Some
ladies were shortly after announced; as Mr.
Grenville, with his graceful dignity and cheer-
fulness, went forward to receive them, Sydney
Smith, looking after him, exclaimed to Mr.
Panizzi: “There, that is the man from whom
we all ought to learn how to grow old !”
The conversation at table turned on a subject
lately treated of in Sir Charles Lyell’s book, the
phenomena which the earth might present to
the geologists of some future period: “Let us
imagine,” said Sydney Smith, “an excavation
on the site of St. Paul's. Fancy a lecture, by
the Owen of some future age, on the thigh-bone
of a Minor Canon, or the tooth of a Dean,—the
form, qualities, the knowledge, tastes, propensi-
ties, he would discover from them.”


"Clit amo (Oligoom 417
Some one spoke of the state of financial em-
barrassment of the London University. “Yes,
it is so great, that I understand they have
already seized on the air-pump, the exhausted
receiver, and galvanic batteries; and that bailiffs
have been seen chasing the Professor of Modern
History round the quandrangle.”
Conversing in the evening, with a small circle,
round Miss Berry's tea-table, Sydney Smith
observed the entrance of a no less remarkable
person, both for talents and years, dressed in a
beautiful crimson velvet gown. He started up
to meet his fine old friend, exclaiming, “Exactly
the color of my preaching cushion l’’ and lead-
ing her forward to the light, he pretended to be
lost in admiration, saying: “I really can hardly
keep my hands off you; I shall be preaching on
you, I fear,” etc., and played with the subject
to the infinite amusement of his old friend and
the little circle assembled round her.
Playfair was certainly the most delightful
philomath I ever knew.
Have you heard of Niebuhr's discoveries?
All Roman history reversed; Tarquin turning
out an excellent family man, and Lucretia a
very doubtful character, whom Lady Davy
would not have visited.


4.18 $goney, 5mitb's
The ladies having left the room, at a dinner
at Sir G. Philip's, the conversation turned on
the black population of America. Sydney
Smith turning to an eminent American jurist,
who was here some years ago, said: “Pray,
Mr. , do tell us why you can’t live on better
terms with your black population.” “Why, to
tell you the truth, Mr. Smith, they smell so
abominably that we can’t bear them near us.”
“Possibly not,” said Sydney Smith, “but men
must not be led by the nose in that way: if you
don’t like asking them to dinner, it is surely no
reason why you should not make citizens of
them.
“Et si non alium laté jactaret odorem,
Civiserat.’ ” +
Some one complaining of the interminable
length of the speeches in Parliament, he said:
“Don’t talk to me of not being able to cough
a speaker down : try the whooping-cough.”
Mr. Monckton Milnes was talking to Alder-
111a11 , when the latter turned away: “You
were speaking,” said Sydney, “to the Lord
Mayor elect. I myself felt in his presence like
the Roman whom Pyrrhus tried to frighten
with an elephant, and remained calm.”
* Virgil, Georgics, ii. 132, Laurus in the original.


TUlit amo (Uligoom 419
When so showy a woman as Mrs.
appears at a place, though there is no garrison
within twelve miles, the horizon is immediately
clouded with majors.
To take Macaulay out of literature and society,
and put him in the House of Commons, is like
taking the chief physician out of London during
a pestilence.
Praise is the best diet for us, after all.
One day Mr. Rogers took Mr. Moore and
Sydney Smith home in his carriage, from a
breakfast; and insisted on showing them, by
the way, Dryden's house, in some obscure
street. It was very wet ; the house looked very
much like other old houses; and having thin
shoes on, they both strongly remonstrated; but
in vain. Rogers got out himself, and stood ex-
pecting them to do likewise; but Sydney Smith,
laughing and leaning out of the carriage, ex-
claimed: “Oh ! you see why Rogers don't
mind getting out, he has got goloshes on ;-
but, my dear Rogers, lend us each a golosh,
and we will then each stand on one leg, and
admire as long as you please.”
When Prescott comes to England, a Caspian
Sea of soup awaits him.


42O $goney, 5mitb’s
An American said to Sydney Smith : “You
are so funny, Mr. Smith ! do you know you re-
mind me of our great joker, Dr. Chamberlaque.”
“I am much honored,” he replied, “but I was
not aware you had such a functionary in the
United States.”
At Mr. Romilly's there arose a discussion on
the Inferno of Dante, and the tortures he had
invented. “He may be a great poet,” said
Sydney Smith, “but as to inventing tortures, I
consider him a mere bungler,-no imagination,
no knowledge of the human heart. If I had
taken it in hand, I would show you what tor-
ture really was. For instance (turning to his
old friend, Mrs. Marcet), you should be doomed
to listen, for a thousand years, to conversations
between Caroline and Emily, where Caroline
should always give wrong explanations in
chemistry, and Emily in the end be unable to
distinguish an acid from an alkali. You, Ma-
caulay, let me consider l—oh, you should be
dumb. False dates and facts of the reign of
Queen Anne should forever be shouted in your
ears; all liberal and honest opinions should be
ridiculed in your presence; and you should not
be able to say a single word during that period
in their defence.” “And what would you
condemn me to, Mr. Sydney?” said a young
__


422 $goney, 5mitb’s
Miss , too, the other day, walking round
the grounds at Combe Florey, exclaimed :
“Oh, why do you chain up that fine New-
ſoundland dog, Mr. Smith?” “Because it has
a passion for breakfasting on parish boys.”
“Parish boys 1” she exclaimed, “does he really
eat boys, Mr. Smith ?” “Yes, he devours
them, buttons and all.” Her face of horror
made me die of laughing.
I like pictures, without knowing any thing
about them ; but I hate coxcombry in the fine
arts, as well as in any thing else. I got into
dreadful disgrace with Sir G. Beaumont once,
who, standing before a picture at Bowood, ex-
claimed, turning to me: “Immense breadth
of light and shade l’” I innocently said: “Yes;
about an inch and a half.” He gave me a look
that ought to have killed me.
At a large dinner party some one else an-
nounced the death of Mr. Dugald Stewart, one
whose name ever brings with it feelings of re-
spect for his talents and high character. The
news was received with so much levity by a
lady of rank, who sat by Sydney Smith, that
he turned round and said: “Madam, when we
are told of the death of so great a man as Mr.
Dugald Stewart, it is usual, in civilized society,
_ _-
*


426 5 goney, 5mitb'g
same event four-and-twenty hours after it has
happened.
STYLE OF SIR JAMES MACKINTosh.-It
struck me last night, as I was lying in bed,
that Mackintosh, if he were to write on pepper,
would thus describe it—
“Pepper may philosophically be described as
a dusty and highly pulverized seed of an orien-
tal fruit; an article rather of condiment than
diet, which, dispersed lightly over the surface
of food with no other rule than the caprice of
the consumer, communicates pleasure, rather
than affords nutrition; and, by adding a tropi-
cal flavor to the gross and succulent viands of
the North, approximates the different regions
of the earth, explains the objects of commerce,
and justifies the industry of man.”
MOCK SPEECH OF SIR JAMES MAcKINToSH.
—“Mackintosh's chief foible was indiscriminate
praise. I amused myself the other day,” said
he, laughing, “in writing a termination of a
speech for him; would you like to hear it? I
will read it to you :—
“‘It is impossible to conclude these observa-
tions without expressing the obligations I am
under to a person in a much more humble scene
of life, LI mean, Sir, the hackney-coachman by


TCUlit amo (Oligoom 427
whom I have been driven to this meeting. To
pass safely through the streets of a crowded
metropolis must require, on the part of the
driver, no common assemblage of qualities. He
must have caution without timidity, activity
without precipitation, and courage without
rashness; he must have a clear perception of
his object, and a dexterous use of his means.
I can safely say of the individual in question,
that, for a moderate reward, he has displayed
unwearied skill; and to him I shall never for-
get that I owe unfractured integrity of limb,
exemption from pain, and perhaps prolongation
of existence.
“‘Nor can I pass over the encouraging cheer-
fulness with which I was received by the waiter,
nor the useful blaze of light communicated by
the link-boys, as I descended from the carriage.
It was with no common pleasure that I remarked
in these men, not the mercenary bustle of venal
service, but the genuine effusions of untutored
benevolence: not the rapacity of subordinate
agency, but the alacrity of humble friendship.
What may not be said of a country where all
the little accidents of life bring forth the hidden
qualities of the heart, where her vehicles are
driven, her streets illumined, and her bells
answered by men teeming with all the refine-
ment of civilized life?


428 $goney Smitb’s
“‘I cannot conclude, Sir, without thanking
you for the very clear and distinct manner in
which you have announced the proposition on
which we are to vote. It is but common justice
to add, that public assemblies rarely witness
articulation so perfect, language so select, and
a manner so eminently remarkable for every
thing that is kind, impartial, and just.’”
The Dean of deserves to be preached
to death by wild curates.
The advice I sent to the Bishop of New
Zealand, when he had to receive the cannibal
chiefs there, was to say to them : “I deeply
regret, Sirs, to have nothing on my own table
suited to your tastes, but you will find plenty
of cold curate and roasted clergyman on the
sideboard”; and if, in spite of this prudent
provision, his visitors should end their repast
by eating him likewise, why I could only add,
“I sincerely hoped he would disagree with
them.” In this last sentiment he must cordially
Have agreed with me; and, upon the whole, he
must have considered it a useful hint, and would
take it kindly. Don’t you think so 2
RECEIPT FOR A SALAD.
To make this condiment, your poet begs
The pounded yellow of two hard-boil'd eggs;
_-
**


432 5 goney, 5mitb's
a jealous, childish, merciless tyrant; that he is
best served by a regular tenor of good actions,
—not by bad singing, ill-composed prayers, and
eternal apprehensions. But the luxury of false
religion is, to be unhappy
DISTANCE IN LONDON.—A few yards in Lon-
don dissolve or cement friendship.
NoN-INTERVENTION.—For God’ssake, do not
drag me into another war ! I am worn down,
and worn out, with crusading and defending
Europe, and protecting mankind; I must think
a little of myself. I am sorry for the Spaniards
—I am sorry for the Greeks—I deplore the fate
of the Jews; the people of the Sandwich Islands
are groaning under the most detestable tyran-
ny; Bagdad is oppressed ; I do not like the
present state of the Delta; Thibet is not com-
fortable. Am I to fight for all these people?
The world is bursting with sin and sorrow. Am
I to be champion of the Decalogue, and to be
eternally raising fleets and armies to make all
men good and happy 2 We have just done
saving Europe, and I am afraid the consequence
will be, that we shall cut each other's throats.
No war, dear Lady Grey !—no eloquence; but
apathy, selfishness, common sense, arithmetic |
I beseech you, secure Lord Grey's swords and


TÜlit amo (Uligoom 433
pistols, as the housekeeper did Don Quixote’s
armor. If there is another war, life will not be
worth having.
“May the vengeance of Heaven '' overtake
all the Legitimates of Verona but, in the pres-
ent state of rent and taxes, they must be left to
the vengeance of Heaven. I allow fighting in
such a cause to be a luxury; but the business of
_ _ a prudent, sensible man, is to guard against
luxury. -
There is no such thing as a “just war,” or, at
least, as a wise war.
-





Accomplishments, 117
Accuracy, official, 102
Accused, protection of the,
6
Acquisition of good for-
gotten, 65
Act, 294
Action, a noble, 321
Affection, 113
America, the blot of, 47
done? what has, 46
American, bad faith, 58
character notheroic, 45
credit, 60
institutions in 1803, 14
literature in 1818, 53
penance, 62
repudiation, 57
repudiation, revulsion
caused by, 58
Animals and men, 328
uniformity of action in,
329
Aristotle, 268
Attention, levity of 208
Augmentativeness, 295
Aurungzebe, 323
Australia, attractions of, 22
future independence
of, 21
natural productions of,
I
seigovernment in, 30
Australian
aristocracy,
2O
Authors, the classical, Io;
Avarice, benefits of 64
Bad books, 65
Ballot, an illusion, 258
effects of, 257
Ballot-box, the, 251
v. strong box, 259
Beautiful, the love of the,
319
Beauty, proportion not the
cause of 316
standard of, 31.4
value of, IoI
Belief, axioms the base of,
297
varieties of 174
Bigotry, ecclesiastical, 143
Bishops, bitter, 175
etticoat, ?
anny ot, 91
Blacks an
Blockades, 155
Bloomfield, ishop, 191
Body, management of the,
369
Bore, a, 71
Borough-mongering, 245
Boroughs, rotten, 240
Botany Bay, architecture
at, 29
whites, 44


436
1ſnöer
Botany Bay, a voyage to, 28
society at, 23
Bourbons, restoration of
the, 430
Boys, training of, 76
and girls, II2
Brevity, Episcopal, 176
Broad A, the, §
Brutes, the soul of 334
Buffoonery, 307
Bulls, 307
Irish, 74
Calm passions, 353
Cant, 84
Career, Sydney Smith's, in
the church, 185
Carelessness, 4oo
Catch a king, 251
Cathedrals and parish
churches, 197
Catholic clergy, effects of
payment of, 173
Catholicism, growth of 157
Ceremonies, 208
Ceylon, in 1803, 30
the honey-bird of 33
Change, history of 161
Chaplaincy, an easy In-
1an, 34
Character, the English, 276
Irish, 135
Characteristics,
42
Charades, 308
Charity, brevity and, 99
Quakers', 121
Cheerfulness, of, 374
Christianity, true, 209
Church, democracy in the,
179
1 war and repeal, 168
Civilization, 309
Clergy, payment of the, 180
national,
subjection of 74
`s ºl. churches, 207
Colonial breweries, 29
Common sense, 175
Conception strengthened
by habit, 287
Conduct and respect, 233
Conformity, outward, 93
conqº, scientific fruits
of 6
conspiracies, Catholic, 144
Contemplation and action,
28
Contracts, Episcopal, 172
Contradictions, a cure for,
339
Convicts, emancipated, 22
Correspondence, Episco-
pal, 18
Counter-action, 118
Creator, the moral evi-
dence of a, 261
Cui Bono, 36
Curates, 177
interrogation of, 173
sensitiveness of, 178
Danes, the, 38
Death, gored to, 173
Decay of woman's life, 116
Deer, parsonic, 425
Defects of the few, rule of
the many, by the, 254
Defence, the true, 156
Delinquents, praise of 235
Delphine, 73
Democrats and prelatists,
I
Desire, strength of 354
Difficulties to overcome,
III
Dinner, the hour of, 129
party, a country, 375
Dinners, Cabinet, 171
at Sydney, 25
Discipline, 220
justice before, 221
Discouragement, 341
Discovery, 1 Io
the true range of 263
Discussion, fair, 296
Display, vulgar, 3o4


438 fſnöcy:
Feeling, 345
good, ; -
Ferae naturae and domestic
poultry, 13o
Fiat experimentum, 228
justitia, 315
Fiction, congruity in, 71
Finality, 152
Foolometer, the, 196
Fops, black, 68
Forestºg and regrat-
ing, I
Fox, Miss, 400
Mr., career of, 102
France, revolutionary
state of 9
reaction in, Io
republican
ment in, Io
obstacles to freedom
in, II
and England, 122
Franchise, extension of,
I2
Freedom, jealousy of, 97
no monopoly of, 149
sudden, II
Friendship, of 373
of philosophers, the,
22O
Fruit, forbidden, 122
govern-
Gallows, gilding the, 65
Game, º of, 131
laws, 133
Garments, Methodist, 83
Generalities, barren, 293
Generation, the elder, III
Gentlemen, education of
country, 113
Gift, a nation's best, 11
Good, acquisition of, for.
gotten, 65
manners, value of, 401
when to do. 23
natural love of 119
Gospel, truth, simplicity
of, 21o
~,
Government, representa-
tive, 13
objects of, I
management, I
Governors, colonial, 70
qualification of 70
Grace is ease, 317
Graceful illustration, a, 74
Grandeur, Episcopal, 184
Greatness, one road to, 288
Greek and Latin, 112
Grey, Lord, and Lord
Brougham, 246
Grief and pain discrimi-
nated, 346
...! #.
pleasure of,
shadows of, :
Growth and decay, natural,
I2O
Guiana, the forests of, 36
Habit, the orbit of 360
improvement by, 285
hardship produced by,
5
effès of, on human
nature, 361
Hacks, booksellers', 18
Hand, shakes of the, 399
the human, 334
Hanging, attraction of, 67
Happiness, the memory
of, 350
an aid to virtue, 35o
Hardness of character,
definition of, 384
Head boys, 119
Heart, power of the, 363
Heresy, 141
High-pressure wisdom, 188
Highwaymen, protection
to, 243
Hindoo proselytes, 87
Hindoos, conversion of 86
beef for, 172
Hiss, 313
Home and school, 120


1ſnöer
439
Homeric morality, 68
Horner, Francis, 125
House of Commons, the
reformed, 24
good taste of the, 126
Human, stature, 334
hand, the, 334
nature, effects of habit
on, 361
Humor, incongruity the
basis of, 305
good, 352
Hungary, toleration in, 165
Ideas, association of 344
Identity, personal, 272
Idiosyncrasy, 298
Ignorance, tenacity of 42
Impressions, remote. 352
Improvement, the enemies
of, 217
Improvements, modern, 4
Inaction, political, 141
Incendiaries, Episcopal,
198
Income, Irish priests', 168
Incomes, bishops’, 192
Independence, early, 291
political, in the
Church, 97
India, missionaries in, 84
effects of missions in,
.85 . . .
civilization of 85
probable loss of 86
danger of 87
castes in, 87
religig's excitability
of 88
respect for opinion in,
8
diculties of conver-
sion in,
Indicative mood, the, 65
Infidelity, confutation of,
207
Influence, Christian, 209
undue, odium of 252
Informers, extortion by, 95
plurality of 94
Innovation; no, 233
Insects in the tropics, 37
Instincts of animals, 326
change of animal, 328
Interference, providential,
42
Intolerance, tenacity of,
I42
and emancipation, 160
Invasion, 153
effects of, 154
Ireland, misgovernment
of 133
English tyranny to, 137
Irish, Catholic clergy, pay-
ment of, 17o
ploughman, an, 134
persecutions, 138
priests’ income, 168
Irritation, sectarian, I4o
Jail, discipline, effects of,
218
education, 219
Jeffrey, Mr., riding on a
donkey, impromptu
on, 377
Jehu, a Whig, 188
Judgment, submission of,
. 232
Justice and injustice, 161
the march of, 215
before discipline, 221
among Squires, 133
Kandy, the king of 32
Knowledge, 342
popular laws of, IoI
pursuit of, Io.3
cures conceit, 114
portable, 284
the misuse of 296
is hypothetical ? 298
the love of 299
extension of 357


44O
1ſnoer
Labor, great success the
fruit of great, 288
Labors, missionary, 84
Lady, advice to a, 396
- Language, beauty of clas-
sical, Ioq
__ Languages, exclusive cul-
~,
*
-
ture of, Io'ſ
dead and living, 112
Laplanders, 39
Latin and Greek, 112
Laughter, brave, 304
pangs of 308
Law, profession of the, 395
England's, 214
the old, barbarity of,
226
Laws, promulgation of,
I
Oo
popular knowledge of,
IoI
irrevocable, 230
Learning, value of classi-
cal, IO4
Letters, destruction of 127
Let them alone, 242
Liberal party, labors of
the, 3
* Life, peerages, 15
journey of 397
expenditure of 398
the passions of 354
the fire of 362
the resources of 116
the scars of 397
É. 216
revity of 332
the motive power of,
354.
maxims and rules of,
366
Listening, the art of 338
Litigations, African, 43
Live, how to, 325
Log, the times of, 254
London, love of 122
distance in, 432
oblivion in, 123
Loom, the plow and the,
253
Lottery, payment by, 178
Love nurtured by use, 344
Macaulay, Thomas Bab-
ington, 406
Mac's and O’s, 139
Machine burners, address
to the, 386
Mackintosh, Sir James, 126
style of 426
mock speech of 426
and Dugald Stewart,
273
Mad quakers, 121
Madness, 282
Malays, 32
Man, moral equality of 23
a one-book, #3
the object of creation,
.329
civilized and savage,
superiority of 325
Manifold men, 311
Mankind, classes of, 406
relations of, 33
Marriages, Catholic and
Protestant, 133
Martyrdom of bigots, 149
Matrimony, 405
May mornings, 313
Meats, forbidden, 44
Medical courage, 4o
Melancholy in women, 328
Melbourne, Lord, 189
Memory and conception,
283
of happiness, the, 35o
Men, of the world, 204
red-haired, 158
overcome,
submit, 330
live with, able, 336
Mental culture, 118
Merit, modest, 297
Merriment, African, 43
animals


1Inoer 44I
Methodism, 78, 82
inroads of, 81
Methodist garments, 84
Methodistical lubricity, 83
Methodists exaggerate the
doctrine, 78
Mind, nourishment of the,
287
made up, a, 335 -
wit the flavor of the, 311
strength of 353
unity of the, 34o
Mischief, pleasure of, 353
Misconstructions, 305
Misgovernment of Ire-
land, 133
Missionaries in India, 84
Missionary labors, 84
Mistakes, popular, 243
Misuse of knowledge, the,
29
Mob, a ballot, 256
Mobs, English, I2
intimidation by, 253
Mock-turtle, 202
Monk, Bishop, 203
Monkeys, dominion of 333
Mood, the indicative, 65
Moral philosophy, no gen-
eral discoveries in,
262
scope of 263
Multitude, intimidation by
the, 256
z-Music, instrumental, 315
influence of 351
taste for, 408
Naples, Hawkins Brown
at the court of, 151
Nations, the safety of 213
Naturalists, country gen-
tlemen as, 35
Nature, good, 252
the great stream of 260
human, effects of habit
on, 301
Naval action, a, 150
Nice person, definition of
a, 383
“No,” the power to say,
290
Non-intervention, 432
Non-residence, 92
penalties of 92
Noodle's oration, 235
Novels, 70
Novelty, useful, 358
Nunneries, 66
Occupation, of, 371
Office, love of, 94
the judicial, 212
Old countries least expen-
- sive, 48
Opinion, respect for, in
India, 89
Opposition, political, 96
Oration, Noodle's, 235
Order, social, *
monotony of, 318
Palaces to pig-styes, 134
Paradox, men of 69
Parasites, Mr. Canning's,
127
Parental ambition, 162
Parishioners, advice to, 388
Parr, Dr., 16
His style, 17
Parsonic deer, 425
Parsons, cheap, 201
Parties, state of, in 1813,429
Partington, Mrs., 244
Past and future, 334
Path and no path, 259
Patriots, great, 408
Pearl fishery, 33
Pedantry, 113
classical, IoS
Peerages, life, I
Peevishness and envy, 346
Penalties, nature's, 359
of non-residence, 92
Pennsylvanian plunder-
ers, 58


442 1ſnöer
People, elderly, 311
Performers, witty, 309
Persecutions, Irish, 138
Perseverance, English, I
Persevere, 339
Philosophers, English, 275
the friendship of, 27o
Philosophy, moral, no
general discoveries
in, 262
of Socrates, 265
Physician, fashionable,
122
Piety, overwrought, 79
practical, 78
the measure of 209
Pigs, beautiful, 317
Pig-styes to palaces, 134
Pity, the principle of 271
Plato, 26
Pleasure, favorable to be-
nevolence, 350
of excitement, 354
Pleasures, contrasted, 320
simple, small, II5
Plough and the loom, the,
253
Plough man, an English,
I35
an Irish, 134
Plunderers, Pennsylvani-
an, 58
Plurality of informers, 94
Poachers, punishment of,
130
Poets, superfluity of 69
Political inaction, 141
Politicians judged by re-
sults,
Poor Bill, Scarlett's, 220
Law, anticipated re-
form of the, 221
Poultry, domestic, and
ferae naturae, 13o
Power, division of 14
Praise, economy of 295
Preachers, dissenting, 147
Precipitation, French, 64
Preferment, church, 395
rospects of 200
Prejudices removed, 167
Prelatists and democrats,
184
Present and future, 208
Pretensions, missionary,
5
Priests' income, Irish, 168
Principle, value of, 62
Prison reform, 216
Prisoners, untried, 223
, counsel for, 226
Privileges, American, 51
Progress, 146
absence of 330
Prolixity, literary, 97
Propensity, combative, 333
Propositions, abstract, 292
Propriety and contrast, 358
Protection to highway-
men, 243
Protestant and Catholic
... marriages, I
Providence, special inter-
vention of 77
Providential interference,
42
Public, opinion and des-
potic power, 66
conduct, the rule of 210
Punishment, capital, 99
effect of 222
mental, 226
moderate, 176
of poachers, 130
on suspicion, 224
privilege of, 223
Puns, 303
Punsters, banishment of,
o:5
Pursuit mistaken objects
of Io9
Quakers, mad, 121
Quantities, false, 65
Quickness, 342
Quotations, old, 289


1ſnoer 443
Railway, accidents, 125
travelling, 124
Rank in schools, emula-
tion of 76
Readers, mere, 291
Reading, results of 291
quick, 292
English, 364
Reason, test of 282
Receipt for a salad, 428
Reflection, 425
Reform, prison, 216
results of, 250
thirst for, 251
Relation if not reality, 272
Relics, 138
Religion, true basis of 78
atmosphere of 365
15uoyancy of, 8o
forced, 93
cheerfulness in, 431
by indictment, 93
indiscreet champions
of 335
Repose, total, 338
Repulation, the folly of,
I
Reserve, English, 64
Respect, 366
or others, 338
Ridicule, resist, 304
boundaries of, 306
dread of, i.
Right, the rule of 337
Rock, Capt., in America, 56
Rome, correspondence
with, 148
diplomatic relations
with, 17o
Round holes and square
persons, 299
Rousseau, Jean Jacques,
I23
Russell, Lord John, 191
Salad, receipt for a, 428
Salary, and duty, separa-
tion of 128
\ - \ *Jºr
**
Salic law, the, 15
Sarcasm, true, 304
Saturday night, the bish-
ops', 195 ...
Scarlett's Poor Bill, 220
Scent, reading by, 280
School, unhappiness at, 365
and home, 120
Scotland, in 1798,6
Episcopalianism in, 152
Seclusion, habit of 362
Second Chambers, 13
Sectarian irritation, 140
Self-applause, 99
Sensations and concep-
tions, 283
sense: sonnection of the,
281
Sensitiveness, American,
54
Sermons, 204
insipidity of 206
reading of, 206
Severn, Vale of 322
Shakes of the hand, 399
Shame of the soul, the, 349
Sheep and shepherds, 199
Shooting, 131
Shyness, 348
no virtue, 349
Sic vos non nobis, 357
Sight, 278
Skepticism, no real results
of, 2
Slavery, and free institu-
tions, inconsistency
of, 48
in the United States, 47
American, and Ameri-
can freedom, 56
Smith, Sydney, in a York-
shire living, 377
Society, life of 278
fallacies of, 402
Socrates, philosophy of 265
Soul, the shame of the, 34
Square persons and roun
holes, 299
- *
-
*-


444
1ſnoer
Squires, justice among, 133
privileges of 136
Standard of faith, the, 176
Stature, human, 334
Stewart, Dugald, and Sir
James Mackintosh,
273
Stick, the 10ve of a, 344
Story, an old, 331
Study, vigorous, 337
taste for, an acquired
taste, 336
Subjection, clerical, 185
Success, great, the fruit of
great labor, 288
Sulkiness, Mr. Bull's, 54
Superstition better than
atheism, 88
Superstitions, African, 43
Suspense, in, 37
Suspicion, punishmenton,
224
Sweeps, 129
Sydney, dinners at, 25
Sympathy, 356
Talent, courage essential
to, 294
caution an aid to, 340
waste of, Io9
Talipot-tree, the, 34
Taste for study an acquired
taste, 336.
Taxation, British, 49
Temper, good, 352
Thirst for reform, 251
Thought, process of 338
Times, live with the, 147
__Toleration, 141
progress of, 150
in Hungary, 165
Tracts for culprits, 218
Trade, ... neutral, freedom
of, 156
Trades, liberty of 51
Transport ships, 27
Transportation, 25
Travelling, railway, 124
1ove of, 3
Treader, the, 225
Tread-mill, the, 222
Tropics, insects in the, 37
Truth, errormingled with,
259
love of 292
the words of, 21o
the concord of 286
Gospel, simplicity of
2IO
Turkish, discipline, 4o
reforms, 41
Tyranny, love of, 172
Undue influence, odium
of, 252
Unhappiness at school, 365
Union, rupture of the, 48
United States, slavery in
the, 47
Utilitarian, a, 4oo
Utility and wit, 74
Vermin, destruction of 82
Verses, Latin, IoS
Versification, no test of ca-
pacity, 106
Vice, †ial suppression
o
94
habit of 360
Violence, Episcopal, 144
Virtue, authority of 95
happiness an aid to, 350
Voluntary age, 284
War, 120
and reforms, 163
Wars, frequency of, 121
waterton's, Mr., wander-
1ngs, 35
whig. Jehu, a, 188
admiinistration,
187 --.
Wig, an old, 186
Wigs and gowns, 52
the,
*~
\
-
-
-
-
4.


Wisdom, high-pressure,
I88
of our ancestors, 230
Wit, 408
and utility, 74
relations suggested by,
3OI
sensations of 301
the cause of, not its es-
sence, definable, 302
elaboration of 302
and humor, corrupting
effects of, 309
Wits, check on, 303
professed, 309
Woman's ife, the decay
of, 116
Women, education of 112
fear of educating, 114
THE
Women, respect paid to
educated, 115
occupation of 115
solitariness of 115
degradation of unedu-
cated, 116
melancholy in, 328
Word controversies, 336
Words, 336
distinct meaning of,
293
World, men of the, 204
Writer, a somnolent, 18
Writing, plain, 64
Years 1648 and 1793, the,
IoI
Yorkshire living, Sydney
Smith in a, 377
END.


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