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 BIOGEAPniCAL AND CRITICAL 
 
 ESSAYS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 I
 
 i 
 
 toxDOtf : 
 
 PniNTED BT SPOTTISWOODE AJfD CO. 
 NEW-STKIiET SQUABE.
 
 BIOGEAPHICAL AND CRITICAL 
 
 ESSAYS. 
 
 EEPRINTED FROM REVIEWS, 
 
 ■WITH ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS. 
 
 BY A. HAYWARD, ESQ., Q.C. 
 
 IN TWO VOLITMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, LONGMANS, AND ROBERTS. 
 
 1858.
 
 k 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 \f'
 
 
 PREFATORY NOTICE. 
 
 In forming this collection, I have taken care to 
 confine it to contributions which aimed at the 
 general and comprehensive treatment of subjects or 
 characters, rather than the mere criticism of books ; 
 and a preference has been given to those which I 
 ^ have been fortunately enabled to enrich from peculiar 
 sources of information, — such as the reminiscences 
 of distinguished friends and contemporaries. 
 
 The two Essays entitled ^''Geoi^ge Selwyn^^ and 
 '''■Lord Chesterfield^^ had been already reprinted in 
 Messrs. Longmans' ^^ Traveller' s Library ;''' and "TAd 
 Art of Dining'" forms part oi -'•'• Murray^ s Railway 
 Reading.'''' Although the second edition had been 
 stereotyped, Mr. Murray kindly permitted me to 
 include it in this compilation, as well as any articles 
 of mine that I might choose from " The Quarterly 
 Review^ 
 
 A. H. 
 
 Marcli, 1858. 
 
 ENGLISH
 
 Recently pubUsIied, by the same Writer. 
 
 J U K 1 1) I C A L TRACTS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Containing : 1. Historical Sketcli of the Law of Real Property in England. — 
 2. The Principles and Practice of Pleading. — 3. Historical Sketch of 
 IJeforms in the Criminal Law. 
 
 Preparing for ptiblication. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Containing : 1. History and Present State of the Laws relating to the 
 Settlement and Removal of the Poor in England, Scotland, and Ire- 
 land. — 2. Sketch of the Criminal Courts and Procedure of France. — 
 .9. Outline of the Criminal Jurisprudence of the leading States of Germany. 
 
 W. G. BENNINa & CO. 
 
 %i\\o booksellers 
 43 FLEET STREET, LONDON.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 or 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 Sydney S^hth ..... 
 
 Page 
 1 
 
 Samuel Rogers 
 
 . 60 
 
 James Sjoth ..... 
 
 . 131 
 
 George Selwyn ..... 
 
 . 149 
 
 Lord Chesterfield .... 
 
 . 209 
 
 Lord Melbourne ..... 
 
 . 254 
 
 General von Radowitz .... 
 
 . 269 
 
 The Countess Haiin-Hahn 
 
 . 280 
 
 M. DE Stendhal (Henri Beyle) . 
 
 . 327 
 
 Pierre Dupont ..... 
 
 . 372 
 
 Lord Eldon and the Chances of the Bar 
 
 . 382
 
 ■ A- 
 
 EERATUM IN THE FIEST VOLUME. 
 
 Page 254, line 2, fm " 1841 " read " 1848 ". 
 „ 255, „ 29, (/e/e"(1805)"
 
 ESSAYS. 
 
 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTEE, AND WRITINGS. 
 (From the Ebinburgh Eeview, July, 1855.) 
 
 A Memoir of ike Reverend Sydney Smith. By his Daughter, 
 Lady Holland. With Selections from his Letters. 
 Edited by Mrs. Austin. In 2 vols. London : 1855. 
 
 The publication of this book affords us the oppor- 
 tunity for which we have been anxiously watching, 
 which we must ere long have found or made for 
 ourselves, had it not presented itself. We should be 
 guilty of an unpardonable neglect of duty were we 
 to allow Sydney Smith to be permanently placed 
 amongst the illustrious band of English worthies in 
 the Temple of Fame, at the risk of seeing too low a 
 pedestal assigned to him, without urging on the at- 
 tention of contemporaries, and recording for the in- 
 struction of posterity, his claims to rank as a great 
 public benefactor, as well as his admitted superiority 
 in what we must make bold to call his incidental 
 and subordinate character of " wit." It was in this 
 Journal that he commenced his brilliant and emi- 
 nently useful career as a social, moral, and political 
 reformer. He persevered in that career through 
 good and evil report, with unabated vigour and 
 vivacity, both in writing and conversation, until the 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 greater part of his original objects had been attained ; 
 and the simplest recapitulation of these would be 
 sufficient to show that his countrymen have durable 
 benefits and solid services, as well as pleasant thoughts 
 and lively images, to thank him for. 
 
 With, perhaps, the single exception of Lord 
 Brou<diam, no one man within living memory has 
 done more to promote the improvement and well- 
 being of mankind, by waging continual war, with pen 
 and tongue, against ignorance and prejudice in all 
 their modifications and varieties ; nor should it be 
 forgotten, that, although he wielded weapons very 
 like those which had been employed in the imme- 
 diately preceding age to undermine law, order, and 
 religion, his exquisite humour was uniformly exerted 
 on the side of justice, virtue, and rational freedom. 
 Indeed, it would hardly have been possible to pervert 
 or misapply so rare and distinctive a gift, being, as it 
 notoriously was, the intense expression, the flower, 
 the cream, the quintessence, of reason and good sense. 
 We will not say that, like Goldsmith, he adorned every- 
 thing he touched, but he compelled everything he 
 touched to appear in its natural shape and genuine 
 colours. In his hands the logical process called the 
 reductio ad ahsurdum operated like the spear of 
 Ithuriel. No form of sophistry or phase of bigotry 
 could help throwing off its disguise at his approach; 
 and the dogma wliich has been deemed questionable 
 touching ridicule in general, may be confidently pre- 
 dicated of /u5, namely, that it was literally and em- 
 phatically the test of truth. 
 
 " Sydney Smith's Life : he who opens this book under the 
 exi)cctation of reading in it curious adventures, important 
 transactions, or pubHc events, had better close the volume, 
 for none of these things will he find therein." 
 
 So stands the first sentence of Lady Holland's pre- 
 face, and such an announcement at starting must
 
 HIS LIFE. CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 3 
 
 be admitted to be the reverse of a temptation or a 
 lure. 
 
 " Nothing," she proceeds, " can be more thoroughly pri- 
 vate and eventless than the narrative I am about to give ; 
 yet I feel myself, and I have reason to believe there are many 
 who will feel with me, that this Life is not, therefore, un- 
 interesting or unimportant ; for, though circumstances over 
 which my father had no control forbade his taking that 
 active share in the affairs of his country for which his talents 
 and his character so eminently fitted him, yet neither circum- 
 stances nor power could suppress these talents, or subdue and 
 enfeeble that character ; and I believe 1 may assert, without 
 danger of contradiction, that by them, and the use he has 
 made of them, he has earned for himself a place amongst the 
 great men of his time and country. 
 
 " Such being the case, however, his talents, and the em- 
 ployment of them, are alone before the world. This is but 
 half the picture, and I believe few who have known so much 
 do not wish to know more. 
 
 " The mode of life, the heart, the habits, the thoughts and 
 feelings, the conversation, the home, the occupations of such 
 a man, — all, in short, which can give life and reality to the 
 picture, — are as yet wanting ; and it is to endeavour to sup- 
 ply this want that I have ventured to undertake this task." 
 
 The task was a labour of love, and, like almost all 
 such labours, it has been efficiently as well as con- 
 scientiously performed. This monument erected by 
 filial piety to our revered and lamented friend's 
 memory, will at once compel unhesitating and uni- 
 versal assent to what might otherwise be thought an 
 exaijs^erated estimate of his o-euius and his worth. It 
 was a theory of Lavater that we insensibly contract a 
 certain degree of physical resemblance, especially as 
 regards expression, to those with whom we live much 
 in domestic intimacy. Be this as it may, there can 
 be little doubt that a master mind exercises a powerful 
 influence on the feelings, understandings, and modes 
 of thought of those who are brought into hourly con- 
 tact with it through a series of years. When the 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE KEV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 head of a famil}^ besides bearing the indelible stamp 
 of intellectual superiority, is of a genial, affectionate, 
 and communicative disposition, the other members 
 commonly contract a habit of looking at objects from 
 the same point of view or through the same medium, 
 adopt similar models of excellence, and square their 
 conduct by analogous standards of propriety. It is 
 upon this principle that we account for what, under 
 the circumstances, may be termed the fortunate 
 agreement of tone, taste, and turn of mind between 
 Sydney Smith and his biographer. No one but an 
 admiring, sympathising, and cordially cooperating 
 daughter, or helpmate, could or would have supplied 
 the most suggestive, illustrative, and consequently 
 most valuable portions of the work; those, for ex- 
 ample, descriptive of the Parsonage of Foston, his 
 house, his furniture, his equipages, his establishment, 
 and his way of life there. The earnestness and single- 
 ness of purpose with which these passages are written, 
 actually impart some of the paternal force and colour- 
 ing to the language, thereby compensating for the 
 occasional negligence of the composition and a want 
 of polish in the style. 
 
 Mrs. Austin, who has edited the second volume 
 containing a selection from the Letters, was also well 
 qualified by a friendship of many years, by recipro- 
 cated esteem, and by intellectual accomplishments, 
 to form a just and adequate conception of her under- 
 taking. She has executed it, as might have been 
 antici})ated, with irreproachable discretion and dis- 
 crimination ; and altogether, although it may sound 
 strange that the delineation of a character so essen- 
 tially masculine as Sydney Smith's should have been 
 reserved for female pens, we believe that any disap- 
 pointment which may be felt after a patient perusal 
 of these volumes, will be mainly attributable to in- 
 correct and illusory notions of the scope and capa-
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 
 
 bilities of such a biography. The life of a writer, or 
 artist, is in his works. Their original charm and in- 
 :fltt€R€e cannot be reproduced by any vividness of 
 description or eloquence of narrative : the excitement 
 of surprise or novelty is unattainable ; and the ui- 
 
 """niost that can reasonably be expected from a Memoir 
 like the one before us, is that it shall revive agreeable 
 reminiscences, awaken elevating associations, stimulate 
 honourable ambition, supply fresh beacons for our 
 guidance, and enable us, for the edification of the 
 living, to arrive at a just estimate of the merits and 
 
 .-^demerits of the dead. 
 
 The leading incidents of Sydney Smith's career 
 are soon told, and a brief summary of these will form 
 a natural and necessary introduction to the remarks 
 which we propose to make upon them. 
 
 So long as mankind shall continue to attach im- 
 portance to ancestral distinctions, it will be an idle 
 affectation to depreciate them ; and many enlightened 
 men, famous for their superiority to popular weak- 
 nesses and vulgar errors, have endeavoured to defend 
 the pride of birth on philosophical grounds. " A 
 lively desire of knowing and recording our ancestors," 
 says Gibbon, " so generally prevails, that it must 
 depend on some common principle in the minds of 
 men." In the same spirit of candour. Bishop AVatson 
 has observed, — " Without entering into a disquisi- 
 tion concerning the rise of this general prejudice, I 
 freely own that I am a slave to it myself." Sydney 
 Smith had none of it. He once laughingly declared, 
 in reference to the somewhat laboured attempt of the 
 author of " Waverley " to establish a pedigree, " when 
 
 Lady L asked me about my grandfather, I told 
 
 her he disappeared about the time of the Assizes, and 
 we asked no questions." This, we need hardly say, 
 was a jocular fabrication ; for his descent, without 
 being noble, was respectable on the side of each 
 
 u 3
 
 6 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH : 
 
 parent, and Lady Holland, unappalled by Sir David 
 Brewster's authority, still retains hopes of being able 
 to claim Sir Isaac Newton for an ancestor. Her 
 account of her paternal grandfather, Mr. Robert 
 Smith, is that " he was very clever, odd by nature, 
 but still more odd by design ; and that (having first 
 married a beautiful girl, from whom he parted at the 
 church door) he spent all the early part of his life 
 partly in wandering over the world for many years, 
 and partly in diminishing his fortune, by buying, 
 altering, spoiling, and then selling about nineteen 
 different places in England." The beautifulgirl was 
 Miss Oilier, or d'Olier, the youngest daughter of a 
 Languedoc emigrant for conscience' sake. She was 
 tlie mother of the four Smiths, Robert (Bobus), 
 Cecil, Courtenay, and Sydney, and we are requested 
 to believe that all the finest qualities of their minds 
 were derived from her. Their filial piety, however, 
 has not induced them to follow the example of the 
 celebrated French brothers, who caused to be inscribed 
 over their mother's grave in Pere la Chaise : " J. /a 
 7nere des trois DupinsP 
 
 The talents of the Smiths for controversy must 
 have been singularly precocious, for the tradition goes 
 that, before they were old enough for school, they 
 might be seen " neglecting games, and often lying on 
 the floor, stretched over their books, and discussing 
 with loud voice and vehement gesticulation, every 
 point that arose." Robert and Cecil were sent to 
 Eton, Courtenay and Sydney to Winchester, where 
 Sydney rose in due time to be captain of the school. 
 Such was his own and his brother's proficiency that 
 their schoolfellows signed a round-robin refusing to 
 compete for the college prizes, if the Smiths, who 
 always gained them, were allowed to enter the lists. 
 He used to say, " 1 believe whilst a boy at school, I 
 made above ten thousand Latin verses, and no man
 
 IIIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 7 
 
 in his senses would dream in after-life of ever making 
 another. So much for life and time wasted." There 
 is another current remark attributed to him, — that a 
 false quantity at the commencement of the career of 
 a young man intended for public life was rarely got 
 over ; and when a lady asked him what a false quan- 
 tity was, he explained it to be in a man the same as 
 a faux pas in a woman. 
 
 On leaving Winchester, he was placed for six 
 months at Mont Villiers, in Normandy, to perfect his 
 knowledge of French, and he then went to New Col- 
 lege, Oxford, where nothing remarkable is recorded 
 of him, except that he obtained, by virtue of his 
 Winchester honours, first a scholarship, and then a 
 fellowship yielding about 100/. a year. No sooner 
 w^as this limited provision secured, than his father 
 abandoned him to his own resources, which were 
 insufficient, he thought, to justify him in studying 
 for the profession of his choice — the Bar. So, after 
 being within an ace of going out as supercargo to 
 China, he reluctantly made up his mind to enter the 
 Church. 
 
 This determination is doubtless to be regretted for 
 his own sake. Besides possessing the talents which 
 are commonly deemed sufficient to insure forensic 
 success, such as acuteness, readiness, boldness, an 
 intuitive knowledge of the springs of action, dialectic 
 skill, and command of language, he was preeminently 
 endowed with the no less indispensable requisites of 
 patience and perseverance.* He would have bided 
 his time. He would neither have been disheartened 
 by neglect, nor have sunk under the sickness of hope 
 deferred, nor have been turned aside by political, social, 
 or literary aspirations, nor have dropped out of the 
 
 * AVhcn the late !Mr. Cliitty was consulted by an anxious father about 
 the qualifications for the bar, he asked, " Gun your son cat sawdust 
 without butter?" 
 
 j» 4
 
 8 THE EEV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 race because he was disgusted with the jockeyship, or 
 annoyed by the heat, dust, and clamour of the course. 
 He might have turned out a Scarlett at Nisi Prius, 
 and an EUenborough on the Bench. He would also 
 have been spared the sarcasms, galling though ill- 
 founded, so repeatedly levelled at him for trifling 
 with his sacred vocation ; for which, in sober serious- 
 ness, he entertained the profoundest reverence. But 
 if he had devoted all his energies to the Law — pro- 
 verbially a jealous mistress — he must have given up 
 to a profession what was meant for mankind, and the 
 world would have lost incalculably by the change. 
 
 When it is asked why he did not do what would 
 be done by most aspiring young men similarly situated 
 in our day, — why he did not trust to his pen for 
 supplying the required funds in aid of the income 
 from his fellowship, — the obvious answer is, that sixty 
 years since, reviews and magazines stood on a widely 
 different footing. Their rate of pay to contributors 
 was scanty in the extreme. They were mostly got 
 up for the booksellers by the regular denizens of Grub 
 Street, and a Fellow of New College could hardly 
 have been accused of undue fastidiousness, if he had 
 dismissed at once, assuming it to have occurred to 
 him, the notion of being enrolled in such a troop. 
 Amongst other good effects universally admitted to 
 have resulted from the establishment of this Journal, 
 must be ranked the triumphant vindication of the 
 dignity of our craft. So signal has been our success 
 in this respect, that people tind it difficult to imagine 
 a period when it was a moot point in the minor 
 morals, whether a gentleman could receive pecuniary 
 remuneration for an article. Swift quarrelled with 
 Harley for offering to pay him in hard cash for his 
 literary aid in the " Examiner." Lord Jeffrey was 
 visited with misgivings which were not overcome 
 without a struggle. In May, 1803, he writes: — ■
 
 HIS LIFE, CIIAKACTER, AND WRITINGS. 9 
 
 " The terms are, as Mr. L. says, without precedent ; 
 but the success of the work is not less so. . . . 
 
 All the men here will take their guineas, I find, 
 
 and, under the sanction of that example, I think I 
 may take my Editor's salary also without being sup- 
 posed to have suffered any degradation." 
 
 We quote from Lord Cockburn's Life of Jeffrey, 
 and we learn from the same high authority, that, after 
 three numbers of the Review had been published on 
 the voluntary principle, it was Sydney Smith himself 
 who suggested that no permanent reliance could be 
 placed in amateurs ; a sagacious hint, which the late 
 Professor Wilson condensed into his v/ell-known 
 maxim, that " an unpaid contributor is ex vi termini 
 an ass." But we are anticipating, and we have not yet 
 brought Mr. Smith to the scene of his earliest labours 
 in the grand cause of civil and religious liberty. We 
 must first accompany him to his curacy in Salisbury 
 Plain, where he underwent the most imminent risk 
 of starvation, mental and bodily. 
 
 His parish was Netherhaven, near Amesbury, a 
 village consisting of a few scattered farms and cot- 
 tages : " once a week a butcher's cart came over from 
 Salisbury ; it was then only he could obtain any meat, 
 and he often dined, he said, on a mess of potatoes 
 sprinkled with a little ketchup." Too poor to coin- 
 mand books, his only resource was the squire ; and 
 his only relaxation, not being able to keep a horse, 
 long walks over those interminable plains, on one of 
 which he narrowly escaped being buried alive in a 
 snow drift. This dreary existence lasted two years, 
 when the squire, Mr. Beech, took a fancy to him, and 
 enfrajxed him as tutor to his eldest son. " It was 
 arranged that I and his son should proceed to the 
 University of Weimar, in Saxony. We set out, but 
 before reaching our destination Germany was dis- 
 turbed by war, and in stress of politics we put into
 
 10 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 Edinburgh, where I remained five years." In 1797, 
 the date of his arrival, this city was in a kind of 
 transition state between two ages or generations, 
 either of which might be excused for designating itself 
 as Augustan. David Hume, Adam Smith, and Ro- 
 bertson were the central figures of the earlier period : 
 Walter Scott, Playfair, Chalmers, and Jeffrey of the 
 later ; whilst Mackenzie and Dugald Stewart may be 
 described as connecting links between the two. Or 
 (to apply the beautiful imagery of Burke) before one 
 splendid orb was entirely set, and whilst the horizon 
 was still in a blaze with its descending glory, in an 
 opposite quarter of the heavens arose another lumi- 
 nary, and for its hour became lord of the ascendant. 
 Yet little did the survivors of the Kobertsonian circle 
 think of the ample compensation that was in store 
 for them, and scornful, probably, or mistrustful Avas 
 the passing glance which they cast on the newly 
 discovered stars just beginning to twinkle through 
 the haze. 
 
 Besides the indigenous celebrities which, about the 
 end of the last century, the modern Athens was 
 breeding up for her own local attraction and illustra- 
 tion, she had become the chosen resort of several 
 young Englishmen who have since done honour to 
 their training, and proved a source of becoming pride 
 to their nursing mother. Lord Lansdowne, Lord 
 Webb Seymour, Francis Horner, and Lord Brougham 
 belonged to this category, and formed no unimportant 
 addition to the list of new acquaintances, speedily to 
 become valued and lifelong friends, amongst whom 
 Sydney Smith received a ready welcome during his 
 expatriation in the North. On the whole, therefore, 
 the " stress of politics " which compelled him to put 
 into Edinburgh, instead of repairing to Weimar and 
 falling under the influence of Goethe or quizzing him, 
 may have been a ibrtunate occurrence; and we are by
 
 HIS LIFE, CIIARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 11 
 
 no means sure that even the solitary confinement of the 
 curacy was time wasted in the long run. Clever and 
 lively companions would have afforded useful instruc- 
 tion for the critic and capital practice for the contro- 
 versialist ; but, as regards the development of his 
 thinking powers, commend us to the lonely medi- 
 tations of Salisbury Plain. 
 
 The Memoir is singularly meagre of information 
 during his five years' sojourn in Edinburgh ; and the 
 earliest letter in the selection bears the date of 1801, 
 the fourth year after his arrival there. He was in 
 the thirty-first year of his age when this Review was 
 projected. Are we to infer that so active-minded a 
 man, with his laudable aspirations for distinction and 
 his fertility of resource, was content to let his 
 faculties lie fallow during so protracted an interval, 
 or that he found a satisfactory occupation for them 
 in reading with his pupils, or in metaphysical discus- 
 sions with his friends ? An incident told in con- 
 nexion with his marriage, which took place some time 
 in 1799, rather adds to the mystery, as proving that 
 the spur of straitened means was amongst his other 
 stimulants to extraordinary exertion. Lady Holland 
 tells us that it was lucky her mother, whose maiden 
 name was Pybus, had some fortune, since her father's 
 only tangible and appreciable contribution towards 
 their future menage were six small silver teaspoons, 
 which, from much wear, had become the ghosts of their 
 former selves. One day, in the madness of his joy, he 
 came running into the room and flung these into her 
 lap, saying, " There, Kate, you lucky girl, I give you 
 all my fortune." In a letter written long after he had 
 left Edinburgh, he exclaims, " When shall I see Scot- 
 land again ? Never shall I forget the happy days 
 passed there, amidst odious smells, barbarous sounds, 
 bad suppers, excellent hearts, and most enlightened 
 and cultivated understandings."
 
 1 2 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH : 
 
 He did not take the less kindly to the Scotch on 
 account of their alleged insensibility to humour. 
 "It requires," he used to say, " a surgical operation 
 to get a joke well into a Scotch understanding." 
 Charles Lamb stoutly maintained the same doctrine, 
 and we fear that an attempt on our part to dispute it 
 Mdll meet with no better success tlian the essay of the 
 Edgeworths on Irish Bulls, written to prove that the 
 Irish make no more bulls than other nations, and 
 proving incontestably that they make more than 
 all the other nations of Europe put together. 
 Yet the imputation of insensibility to humour is a 
 curious one to be fixed indelibly on the countrymen 
 of Burns, Walter Scott, Gait, Lockhart, John AYilson, 
 and Peter Robertson. One of our " raws " he was 
 especially fond of rubbing. " Their temper," he 
 writes, " stands anything but an attack on their 
 climate ; even the enlightened mind of Jeffrey cannot 
 shake off the illusion that myrtles flourish on Craig 
 Crook. In vain I have represented to him that they 
 are of the genus Carduus^ and pointed out their 
 prickly peculiarities. He sticks to his myrtle illu- 
 sions, 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 rigour of his climate, nor spent five years in 
 discussing metaphysics and medicine in that garret of 
 the earth — that handle-end of England — that land 
 of Calvin, oat-cakes, and sulphur." 
 
 The motto which he proposed for this Journal, and 
 his account of its origin, are too familiar to need 
 repetition. He states that the project emanated from 
 him, and that he edited the first Number. This 
 statement has never been contradicted, and is true in 
 the quaHfied sense in which he meant it to be under- 
 stood. He had the principal voice in the selection 
 and arrangement of the articles ; but according to the
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 13 
 
 detailed account of the transaction supplied by Lord 
 Jeffrey to Mr. Robert Chambers in 1846, there was 
 no editor, in the modern acceptation of the office, for 
 the first three Numbers. "As many of us as could 
 be o;ot to attend used to meet in a dingy room of 
 Willison's printing-office, in Craig's Court, where the 
 proofs of our own articles were read over and 
 remarked upon, and attempts were made to sit in 
 judgment on tlie few manuscripts which were then 
 affiDrded by strangers. But we had seldom patience 
 to go through with these ; it was found necessary to 
 have a responsible editor, and the office was pressed 
 
 upon me Smith was by far the most 
 
 timid of the confederacy, and believed that unless 
 our incognito was strictly maintained we could not 
 go on a day ; and this was his object for making us 
 hold our dark divans at Willison's office, to which he 
 insisted on our repairing singly, and by back ap- 
 proaches, or by diffi^rent lanes ! " 
 
 Now that the fame of the band, at least of its leading 
 members, rests upon an imperishable basis, such pre- 
 cautions may well seem superfluous ; but, without em- 
 barking into the wide question of anonymous Avriting, 
 we may suggest that Sydney had reason on his side. 
 Omne ignotum pro magnifico. The only mode of 
 insurino; a fair trial was to remain shrouded in 
 mystery at starting ; and if anything could have 
 checked the success of the enterprise, it would have 
 been a notification to the public that a set of briefless 
 barristers, unemployed doctors, embryo statesmen, 
 and mute inglorious orators, with the aid of an ex- 
 curate, were about to electrify the republic of letters 
 and inaugurate a new era in criticism. 
 
 Editorial identity differs widely from personal, and, 
 after the lapse of more than half a century, will be 
 found to resemble that of Sir John Cutler's stockings, 
 which was preserved by a succession of renewals.
 
 14 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH : 
 
 Sydney Smith's Life could not be written or discussed 
 without revelations Avhich, at an earlier period, might 
 have been indiscreet and egotistical. We therefore 
 make no apology for the foregoing details, nor for 
 quoting the following account of the phenomena which 
 accompanied the birth of this Review : — " It is im- 
 possible," remarks Lord Cockburn, " for those who 
 did not live at the time and in the heart of the scene 
 to feel, or almost to understand, the impression made 
 by the new luminary, or the anxieties with which its 
 motions were observed. It was an entire and instant 
 change of everything that the public had been ac- 
 customed to in that sort of composition. The old 
 periodical opiates were extinguished at once." 
 
 It is also a fact worth noticing, that the first Number, 
 although an apology was offered in the preface for 
 the length of some of the articles, contained twenty- 
 nine, of which seven were from the pen of Sydney 
 Smith — one of these occupying rather less than a 
 page. It professes to be a review of the " Anni- 
 versary Sermon of the Royal Humane Society," by 
 W. Langford, D. D., and runs thus : 
 
 " An accident, which happened to the gentleman engaged in 
 reviewing this Sermon, proves, in the most striking manner, 
 the importance of this Charity for restoring to life persons 
 in whom tlie vital power is suspended. He was discovered 
 with Dr. Langford's Discourse lying open before him, in a 
 state of the most profound sleep ; from which he could not, 
 hy 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 disconsolate 
 brothers. 
 
 " The only account he could give of himself w'as, that he 
 remembers reading on, regularly, till he came to the following 
 pathetic description of a drowned tradesman ; beyond which, 
 he recollects nothing. [Here follows an extract.] This
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 15 
 
 extract will suffice for the style of the Sermon. The Charity 
 itself is beyond all praise." 
 
 This is curious, both as a specimen of Sydney 
 Smith's early manner, and as illustrating the contrast 
 which such a style of criticism must have presented 
 to what Lord Cockburn disrespectfully terms the 
 " old periodical opiates." 
 
 Of course the principal contributors were speedily 
 recognised, and had a mark set against their names 
 by the dispensers of public honours and emoluments. 
 Their position has been thus vividly portrayed by 
 their clerical associate : — " From the beginning of 
 the century to the death of Lord Liverpool was an 
 awful period for those who had the misfortune to 
 entertain liberal opinions, and who were too honest 
 to sell them for the ermine 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, — pre- 
 bendaries, deans, and bishops made over your head, 
 — reverend renegades advanced to the highest dig- 
 nities 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 libe- 
 rality of opinion at that period ; and not only was 
 there no pay, but there were many stripes. 
 To set on foot such a journal in such times, — to 
 contribute towards it for many years, — to bear 
 patiently the reproach and poverty which it caused, — 
 and to look back and see that I have nothing to retract, 
 and no intemperance and violence to reproach myself 
 with, is a career of life which I must think to be ex- 
 tremely fortunate." 
 
 Amongst the subjects Avhich he discussed with a 
 peculiar view to political or social amelioration, were 
 — Catholic Emancipation ; Popular, Professional, and
 
 16 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 Female Education ; Public Schools ; University Re- 
 form ; Church Reform ; Methodism ; the Game Laws ; 
 Spring Guns ; Botany Bay ; Chimney-Sweepers ; Pri- 
 sons and Prison Discipline ; the Poor Laws ; Counsel 
 for Prisoners ; Lidian Missions ; Irish Grievances, 
 Sec. &c. He not only kept his own contributions 
 free from the revolutionary or democratic tone in 
 politics, and from sceptical tendencies in theological 
 speculation, but amidst all his exuberant jocularity 
 he held close watch over his less guarded associates, 
 and amongst the printed correspondence we find 
 him more than once stating his firm resolve to with- 
 draw from the work if a style of writing which he 
 thought inimical to sound religion were continued. 
 Thus in 1818 he writes to the editor: " I must bes: 
 the favour of you to be explicit on one point : do you 
 mean to take care that the Review shall not encou- 
 rage infidel principles ? Unless this is the case, I 
 must absolutely give up all thoughts of connecting 
 in3'self with it." 
 
 On the other hand, he had more than once to de- 
 fend his guerilla-like inroads into grave subjects, and 
 his dashing onslaughts on respectable bores, against 
 the censures of a whole conclave of serious readers, to 
 whom Jeffrey was prone to listen in his desponding 
 or uncongenial moods. How could Pope venture to 
 lay down as an axiom that " Gentle dulness ever loves 
 a joke ? " unless he meant merely that dull people 
 always enjoy their own jokes, which are commonly 
 no laughing matter. Dulness loves nothing that it 
 does not understand, or that startles it, or that rufiles 
 its sense of self-importance. What Pindar said of 
 music, and Coleridge applied to genius, holds equally 
 true of wit or fun : " as many as are not delighted 
 by it, are disturbed, perplexed, irritated." We are 
 consequently not the least astonished to find Sydney 
 Smith driven to the followinir defence, even at so
 
 HIS LIFE, CHAEACTER, AND WRITINGS. 17 
 
 advanced a stage of his reputation and authority as 
 1819: 
 
 " My dear Jeffrey, — You must consider that Edinburgh is 
 a very grave place, and that you live with philosophers who 
 are very intolerant of nonsense. I write for the London, not 
 for the Scotch market, and perhaps more people read my 
 nonsense than your sense. The complaint was loud and 
 universal of the extreme dulness and lengthiness of the ' Edin- 
 burgh Review.' Too much, I admit, would not do of my 
 style ; but the proportion in which it exists enlivens the 
 * Review,' if you ap[)eal to the whole public, and not to the 
 eight or ten grave Scotchmen with whom you live. I am a 
 very Ignorant, frivolous, half-inch person ; but, such as I am, 
 I am sure I have done your ' Review ' good, and contributed 
 to bring it into notice. Such as I am, I shall be, and cannot 
 promise to alter. Such is my opinion of the effect of my 
 articles. I differ with you entii'ely about Lieutenant Pleude. 
 To do such things very often would be absurd; to punish a 
 man every now and then for writing a frivolous book is wise 
 and proper ; and you would find, if you lived in England, 
 that the review of Lieutenant Heude is talked of and quoted 
 for its fun and impertinence, when graver and abler articles 
 are thumbed over and passed by. Almost any one of the 
 sensible men who write for the ' Review ' would have written 
 a much wiser and more profound article than I have done 
 upon the Game Laws. I am quite certain nobody would 
 obtain more readers for his essay upon such a subject ; and I 
 am equally certain that the principles arc right, and that there 
 is no lack of sense in It. 
 
 *' So I judge myself; but, after all, the practical appeal is 
 to you. If you think my assistance of no value, I am too 
 just a man to be angry with you upon that account; but 
 while I write, I must write in my own way." — vol. 11. pp. 
 181-2. 
 
 Sydney Smith ceased to reside in Edinburgh after 
 1803, and in 1804 we find him settled in Doughty 
 Street, Russell Square, in the midst of a colony of 
 lawyers, the most rising and accomplished of whom, 
 by a' natural aihnity, were attracted to him. Sir 
 Samuel Romilly, the late Lord Abinger, and Sir 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 THE KEY. SYDNEY SiMITII : 
 
 James Mackintosh were the most distinguished ; and, 
 amongst other friends, Lady Holland enumerates 
 Dr. Marcet, ]\Ir. Dumont, Mr. Wishaw, Lord Dudley 
 (then Mr. Ward), Mr. Sharpe, Mr. Rogers, Mr. 
 Luttrell, and Mr. Tenant. There was also an old 
 Abbe Dutens, bent on inventing a universal language, 
 who, on Smith's suggesting a few grammatical diffi- 
 culties, exclaimed, — "Oh non. Monsieur, ce sont la 
 des bagatelles ! La seule difficulte que je trouve, c'est 
 de faire agir tons les rois de I'Europe au meme temps." 
 The most important of his early social successes was 
 an introduction to Holland House, " the most for- 
 midable ordeal," says his daughter, " that a young 
 and obscure man could well go through. He was 
 shy, too, then : yet I believe, in spite of the shyness, 
 they soon discovered and acknowledged his merits, and 
 deemed him no unmeet company for their world. 
 And wliat a world it was ! " 
 
 Sydney Smith shy at thirty-three ! Theodore 
 Hook also used to complain to his dying day that he 
 had never completely overcome the uncomfortable 
 sensation of entering a room ; and an eminent law- 
 lord, the very model of senatorial and judicial elo- 
 quence of the composed and dignified order, has been 
 seen to tremble when he rose to address the House of 
 Lords, like a thorough-bred racer when first brought 
 to the starting-post. One obvious solution of this 
 phenomenon is that the delicacy of perception, the 
 exquisite sensibility to impressions, and the impul- 
 siveness, which are essential to humour or eloquence, 
 are almost necessarily accompanied by a certain de- 
 gree of nervous tremulousness, just as a finely strung 
 harp vibrates at the slightest touch or whenever the 
 faintest breeze passes over it. At all events, leaving 
 the problem to the metaphysicians, we see not the 
 smallest reason for questioning the fact that Sydney 
 Smith did suffer from sliyness, although neither com-
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AKD WRITINGS. 19 
 
 parative poverty nor unequal rank ever shook the 
 perfect independence of his bearing in society. He 
 was fond of drawing a ludicrous and (we suspect) 
 overcharged picture of his distresses as a diner-out, 
 when, as he said, he could not afford a hackney coach. 
 Balzac's hero, in a similar predicament, carefully 
 picks his way under the terrible apprehension that an 
 unlucky splash may deprive him of his soiree, and 
 leave the held open to a ^vealthier rival. Sydney 
 Smith, according to his own account, used to carry 
 a pair of dress shoes in his pocket, and change them 
 in the hall. " The servants," he added, " stared at 
 me at first, but I made them laugh, and they got 
 used to me." On hearing of the offence taken by his 
 more fastidious friend Jeffrey at the appearance of a 
 straw (emblematic of the more humble vehicle) on 
 the carpet of some Mrs. Leohunter, he exclaimed, " a 
 straw, a solitary straw ! why I have been at literary 
 parties where the floor looked like a stubble-field." 
 
 If the fathers of a hundred ruined famihes could 
 be put to the question or brought to confession, ninety 
 at least of them would own that their primary em- 
 barrassments (like those of the Primrose family) arose 
 from the wish to keep up appearances. Yanity would 
 be found to be a more fruitful source of misery than 
 vice. Rochefoucauld strongly inculcates the expe- 
 diency of learning how to grow old. The art of 
 growing (or of being and seeming) poor is more 
 rarely studied, and more painful to pursue. It was 
 Sydney Smith's constant care to practise and incul- 
 cate it. " He never," we are assured by his daughter, 
 " affected to be what he was not ; he never concealed 
 the thought, laboui', and struggle it often was to him 
 to obtain the simple comforts of life for those he 
 loved: as to its luxuries, he exercised tlie most rigid 
 self-denial. His favourite motto on such matters 
 was, — ' Avoid shame, but do not seek glory — nothing 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH : 
 
 so expensive as glory ; ' and this he applied to every 
 detail of his establishment. Notliing could be plainer 
 than his table ; yet his society often attracted the 
 wealthy to share his single dish." It is a secret worth 
 knowing in a luxurious metropolis, that nothing is 
 so attractive to the wealthy as a plain dinner and a 
 small party. The noble proprietor of half a dozen 
 princely residences will thank you with an effusion 
 of gratitude for asking him to such a dinner, an 
 occurrence perhaps unique in his long life of aristo- 
 cratic banqueting. " Better a dinner of herbs 
 where love is, than a stalled ox and hatred there- 
 Avith." Better a dinner off a joint where good con- 
 versation is, than turtle and venison, entrees and 
 entremets^ with dulness, pretension, and pomposity. 
 Of all the stereotyped delusions of the newspapers, 
 we know few more provoking than their daily an- 
 nouncements that some of the stupidest people in 
 town have "entertained " a succession of distinguished 
 guests. It was one of Sydney's own half-serious re- 
 flections, that the observances enjoined by the Church 
 were tolerably well kept upon the whole, since the 
 rich kept the feasts and the poor the fasts. But he 
 left out of the account the intellectual fasts to which 
 the richest of the rich submit by way of self-imposed 
 penance for their superfluities. 
 
 Still, although a good deal of rational enjoyment 
 may be extracted from a scanty income, it does not 
 follow that we should remain poor longer than we 
 can help. One of the most creditable passages Junius 
 ever wrote was his advice to Woodfall : " Let all 
 your views in life be directed to a solid, however 
 moderate, independence ; without it no man can be 
 happy, nor even honest." What can be more touch- 
 ing than the scene in the " Life of Sheridan," where 
 
 " The orator, dramatist, statesman, who ran 
 Through each moth} of tlie Ijre and was master of all,"
 
 HIS LIFE, CHAKACTER, AND WRITINGS. 21 
 
 bursts into tears when reproaclied for some imputed 
 political backsliding, exclaiming, that it was all very 
 well for his noble friends, with their tens, twenties, 
 or fifty thousands a year, to taunt a man whose whole 
 life had been one of struggle and embarrassment ? 
 We have heard Sydney Smith revert to this incident, 
 and avow his cordial concurrence in the axiom of a 
 fellow-passenger in a stage-coach, — "Poverty, sir, is 
 no disgrace to a man, but it's confoundedly incon- 
 venient." In his letters he fairly owns that every 
 guinea he was enabled to add to his growing fortune 
 was a gratification to him. 
 
 His preaching had been much admired, both at 
 Edinburgh and London ; and one of his projects, 
 about 1805, for gaining money, was to take the lease 
 of a chapel then occupied by a set of Dissenters called 
 the New Jerusalem, and run the chance of increasinof 
 his pew-rents by his j)opularity. Four years before, 
 he had unfolded his views of what pulpit oratory was, 
 and what it might become without losing any of its 
 indispensable solemnity. " The English, generally 
 remarkable for doing very good things in a very bad 
 manner, seem to have reserved the maturity and 
 plenitude of their awkwardness for the pulpit. Is it 
 wonder, then, that every semi-delirious sectary who 
 pours forth his animated nonsense with the genuine 
 look and voice of passion, should gesticulate away the 
 congregation of the most profound and learned divine 
 of the Established Church, and in two Sundays preach 
 
 him hare to the very sexton? ^^^^^y this holo- 
 
 plexia on sacred occasions alone ? 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 lano-uuiie and 
 the driest manner ? Is sin to he taken from men as 
 Eve teas from Adam, hy castiwj them into a deej) 
 slumher ? " 
 
 c 3
 
 22 THE EEV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 It was his wish to enter the field against the semi- 
 delirious sectary ; but for this purpose he required a 
 license from the rector of the parish in which the 
 chapel la}^, and this was politely but peremptorily 
 declined. Sydney M^as much annoyed ; his family 
 shared his indignation, and his aifectionate biographer 
 implies that he was cruelly wronged. " I appeal to 
 you again," he wrote, addressing the rector, whose 
 name is suppressed, " whether anything can be so 
 enormous and unjust as that that privilege should be 
 denied to the ministers of the Church of England, 
 which every man who has folly and presumption 
 enough to differ from it can immediately enjoy." He 
 who is his own advocate has a fool for a client, is a 
 sound though homely adage. Its literal application 
 to Sydney Smith, in his most incautious moments, 
 would be preposterous ; but it is instructive to mark 
 how a man of his intellectual culture could be blinded 
 by eagerness in the pursuit of a favourite object to 
 the palpable unsoundness of his argument. The es- 
 sential end and object of a church establishment are 
 to prevent this very description of competition which 
 he claims as the inalienable privilege of its ministers. 
 " With what sincerity, or with what dignity," asks 
 Paley, " can a preacher dispense truths of Christianity, 
 whose thoughts are perpetually solicited to the re- 
 flection how he may increase his subscription ? His 
 eloquence, if he possess any, resembles rather the 
 exhibition of a player who is computing the profits 
 of his theatre." * 
 
 " The drama's laws the drama's patrons give, 
 And those who live to please, must please to live." 
 
 The late lamented Charles Buller, improving on a 
 
 * " Wagner. I have often heard say, a player might instruct a priest. 
 
 " Faust. Yes, when the priest is a player, as may likely enough come 
 to pass occasionally." — Goethe's Faust.
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 23 
 
 suggestion of Swift's, proposed to organise a body of 
 dignitaries and ministers of the Church of England, 
 to be called " The Church Moveable," or " The 
 Clergy Unattached ; " so that whenever the sectaries 
 were gaining ground in any given district, a bishop's 
 or a dean's party might be sent down to encounter 
 them, as we despatch a captain's or subaltern's party 
 to prevent a political outbreak. But he did not 
 propose to increase their pay in proportion to the 
 number of Dissenters they led captive. On what 
 ground did Sydney Smith himself propose to settle a 
 State provision on the Roman Catholic clergy of 
 Ireland ? Was it not in the hope of rendering them 
 independent of their flocks, and of taking away the 
 pecuniary temptation to turbulenca ? 
 
 In 1804, 1805, and 1806 were dehvered at the 
 Royal Institution the Lectures first printed for private 
 circulation by Mrs. Sydney Smith in 1849, and sub- 
 sequently published under the title of " Elementary 
 Sketches of Moral Philosophy." They were eminently 
 and deservedly popular. " His success," wrote Horner 
 during their delivery, " has been beyond all possible 
 conjecture ; from six to eight hundred hearers ; not 
 a seat to be procured, even if you go there an hour 
 before the time. Nobody else, to be sure, could have 
 executed such an undertaking with the least chance 
 of success. For who else could make such a mixture 
 of odd paradox, quaint fun, manly sense, liberal 
 opinions, and striking language ? " The portions of 
 the series which attracted most attention were the 
 two lectures on "Wit and Humour," in which he 
 broached the startling doctrines that " the feeling of 
 wit is occasioned by those relations of ideas which 
 excite surprise, and surprise alonCy'' and that wit 
 might be acquired by study, like mathematics : 
 
 " It is imagined that wit is a sort of inexplicable visitation, 
 that it comes and goes with tlic rapidity of lightning, and 
 
 c 4
 
 24 THE EEV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 that It is quite as unattainable as beauty or just proportion. 
 I am so much of a contrary way of thinking, that I am con- 
 vinced a man might sit down as systematically, and as suc- 
 cessfully, to the study of wit, as he might to the 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 pro- 
 digiously before Midsummer, so that his friends should hardly 
 know him a2;aiTi. For what is there to hinder the mind from 
 gradually acquiring a habit of attending to the lighter re- 
 lations of ideas in which wit consists ? Punning grows upon 
 everybody, and punning is the wit of words. I do not mean 
 to say that it is so easy to acquire a habit of discovering new 
 relations in ideas as in words, but the difficulty is not so 
 much greater as to render it insuperable to habit. One man 
 is unquestionably much better calculated for it by nature 
 than another; but association, which gradually makes a bad 
 speaker a good onCj might give a man wit who had it not, 
 if any man chose to be so absurd as to sit down to acquire 
 it." 
 
 Why absurd, if the object were really attainable by 
 study, and the man had no better or more urgent 
 employment or pursuit ? 
 
 The peroration of the second of these two lectures 
 is very striking : 
 
 " There is an association in men's minds between dulness 
 and wisdom, amusement and folly, which has a very powerful 
 influence in decision upon character, 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 frivolous 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. I 
 believe the fact to be, that wit is very seldom the only eminent 
 quality which resides in the mind of any man ; it is commonly 
 accompanied by many other talents of every description, and 
 ought to be considered as a strong evidence of a fertile and 
 superior understanding. Almost all the great j^oets, orators, 
 and statesmen of all times, have been witty. C^sar, Alex- 
 ander, Aristotle, Descartes, and Lord Bacon, were witty 
 men; so were Cicero, Shakspeare, Demosthenes, Boileau,
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 25 
 
 Pope, Dryden, Fontenelle, Jonson, Waller, Cowley, Solon, 
 Socrates, Dr. Johnson, and almost every man who has made ^.jl/- 
 
 a distinguished figure in the House of Commons The 
 
 meaning of an extraordinary man is, that he is eiglit men, 
 not one man ; that he has as much wit as if he had no sense, J^^^/ 
 and as much sense as if he had no wit ; that his conduct is as ^rst^i A' 
 judicious as if he were the dullest of human beings, and his 
 imagination as brilliant as if he were irretrievably ruined. 
 But when wit is combined with sense and information ; Avhen 
 it is softened by benevolence, and restrained by strong prin- 
 ciple ; when it is in the hands of a man who can use it and 
 despise it, who can be witty, and something much hetter than 
 witty, who loves honour, justice, decency, good-nature, 
 morality, and religion, ten thousand times better than wit ; — 
 wit is then a beautiful and delightful part of our nature. 
 There is no more interesting spectacle than to see the effects 
 of wit upon the different characters of men ; than to observe 
 it expanding caution, relaxing dignity, unfreezing coldness, 
 — teaching age, and care, and pain, to smile, — extorting re- 
 luctant gleams of pleasure from melancholy, and charming 
 even the pangs of grief. It is pleasant to observe how it 
 penetrates through the coldness and awkwardness of society, 
 gradually bringing men nearer together, and, like the com- 
 bined force of wine and oil, giving every man a glad heart 
 and a shining countenance. Genuine and innocent wit like 
 this, is surely i\\Q flavour of the mind! Man could direct his 
 ways by plain reason, and support his life by tasteless food ; 
 but God has given us wit, and flavour, and laughter, and 
 perfumes, to enliven the days of man's pilgrimage, and to 
 ' charm his pained steps over the burning marie.' " 
 
 There cannot be a more striking proof of the 
 slenderness of the provision made for the reward 
 or encouragement of intellectual eminence in this 
 countr}^, than the fact that Sydney Smith, with this 
 fulness of reputation, and with his political friends 
 in power, felt compelled to accept the small livin"- of 
 Foston-Ie-Clay in Yorkshire, which was with some 
 difficulty obtained, through the exertions of Lord 
 and Lady Holland, from the Whig Chancellor, Lord 
 Erskine. Again, however, we maintain, that his
 
 26 THE KEV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 character and reputation have rather gained than 
 suffered by what he felt as a severe infliction at the 
 time. His second or third banishment, with its con- 
 comitants, brought out into broad relief the finest 
 points of his understanding and his heart. Buffon 
 somewhere defines or describes genius as a superior 
 aptitude to patience. May not goodness and virtue 
 be resolved into the same element, when an uncon- 
 genial course of life is deliberately adopted, and a host 
 of privations and (if you please, petty) miseries are 
 knowingly encountered from a genuine and profound 
 sense of duty ? — " A diner-out, a wit, and a popular 
 preacher," to borrow his own graphic picture of his 
 situation, " I was suddenly caught up by the Arch- 
 bishop of York, and transported to my living in 
 Yorkshire, where there had not been a resident 
 clergyman 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." . . . 
 
 " It made me a very poor man for many years, but I never 
 repented it. I turned schoolmaster, to edacate my son, as I 
 could not afford to send him to scliool. Mrs. Sydney turned 
 schoolmistress, to educate my girls, as I could not afford a 
 governess. I turned farmer, us I could not let my land. A 
 man-servant was too expensive; so I caught up a little garden- 
 girl, made like a milestone, christened her Bunch, put a 
 napkin in her hand, and made her my butler. The girls 
 taught her to read, Mrs. Sydney to wait, and I undertook 
 her morals ; Bunch became the best butler in the county. 
 
 "I had little furniture, so I bought a cart-load of deals; 
 took a carpenter (who came to me for parish relief, called 
 Jack Robinson), with a face like a full-moon, into my service; 
 established him in a barn, and said, ' Jack, furnish my house.' 
 You see the result. 
 
 " At last it was suggested that a carriage was much wanted 
 in the establishment ; after diligent search, I discovered in 
 the back settlements of a York coachmaker an ancient green 
 chariot, supposed to have been the earliest invention of the
 
 HIS LIFE, CIIAEACTER, AND WRITINGS. 27 
 
 kind. I brought it home in triumph to my admiring family. 
 Being somewhat dilapidated, the village tailor lined it, the 
 blacksmith repaired it; nay, (but for Mrs. Sydney's earnest 
 entreaties,) we believe the village painter would have exer- 
 cised his genius upon the exterior ; it escaped this danger, 
 however, and the result was wonderful. Each year added to its 
 charms : it grew younger and younger ; a new wheel, a new 
 spring; I christened it the Immortal ; it was known all over 
 the neighbourhood ; the village boys cheered it, and the village 
 dogs barked at it ; but Faber mea fortunce, was my motto, 
 and we had no false shame. 
 
 " Added to all these domestic cares, I was village parson, 
 village doctor, village comforter, village magistrate, and 
 Edinburgh lieviewer ; so you see I had not much time left 
 on my hands to regret London. 
 
 " My house was considered the ugliest in the county, but 
 all admitted it was one of the most comfortable ; and we 
 did not die, as our friends had predicted, of the damp walls 
 of the parsonage." — vol. i. pp. 159-60. 
 
 Should any reader have felt disposed to question 
 the advantage of having an accomplished and high- 
 minded daughter, bred up at her father's feet and 
 imbued with his noble spirit, for the biographer of 
 such a man, their doubts will vanish into thin air 
 before they have half finished the seventh chapter, 
 describing the building of the Foston Parsonage, and 
 the arrival of the fiimily to take possession of their 
 new residence. Vividly as some familiar scenes in 
 the " Vicar of Wakefield " are recalled to us by the 
 magic of association, there is no actual likeness, and 
 there are freshness and novelty in every one of Lady- 
 Holland's indelible and faithfully recorded impressions 
 and details : 
 
 " But oh, the shout of joy as we entered and took posses- 
 sion ! — the first time in our lives that we had inhabited a 
 house of our own. How we admired it, ugly as it was ! 
 With what pride my dear father welcomed us, and took us 
 from room to room ! old Molly INIills, the milkwonian, who 
 had charge of the house, grinning with delight in the back-
 
 28 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 ground. A\^e thouglit It a palace : yet the drawlngroom had 
 no door, the bare plaster walls ran down with wet, the 
 ■windows were like ground glass from the moisture, which had 
 to be wiped up several times a day by the housemaid. No 
 carpets, no chairs, nothing unpacked ; rough men bringing in 
 rougher packages at every moment. But then was the time 
 to behold my father ! — amid the confusion, he thought for 
 everybody, cared for everybody, encouraged evei'ybody, kept 
 everybody in good-humour. IIow he exerted himself ! how 
 his loud rich voice might be heard in all directions, ordering, 
 arranging, explaining, till the household storm gradually sub- 
 sided ! Each half-hour improved our condition ; fires blazed 
 in every room ; at last we all sat down to our tea, spread by 
 ourselves on a huge package before the drawingroom fire, 
 sitting on boxes round it ; and retired to sleep on our beds 
 placed on the floor ; — the happiest, merriest, and busiest 
 family in Christendom." — vol. i. p. 162. 
 
 If j\Iolly Mills, Annie Kay, Bunch, and Jack 
 Robinson could be transplanted into one of Mr. 
 Thackeray's or Mr. Dickens's monthly numbers, with 
 appropriate parts, their names would speedily become 
 as familiar in men's mouths as household words, 
 whilst Bitty, the pet donkey, is a study for a Sterne. 
 Although, as Sydney Smith admits, visions of croziers 
 did occasionally cross his waking dreams, all his plans 
 were formed on the hypothesis of his remaining rector 
 of Foston for life. The event nearly justified Jiis 
 prevision ; he remained there twenty-two years, and 
 was at length removed to a more fitting sphere, 
 not by the aid or through the instrumentality of 
 those for and with whom he had combated, but 
 by Lord Lyndhurst, " who," says Lady Holland, 
 " had the real friendship and courage to brave the 
 opinions and opposition of his own party, and, though 
 differing from my father in politics, to bestow on 
 him a stall which was then vacant at Bristol." Yet 
 a ministry (the Coalition or Junction Ministry) had 
 been formed in 1827, some of whose prominent mem-
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 29 
 
 bers or influential supporters might have remem- 
 bered how much " Peter Plymley " had contributed 
 to advance that very question which was their sole 
 or main bond of union. From a letter addressed to 
 one of these, whose name is omitted, we collect that 
 he was disappointed and deeply hurt at their neglect, 
 as Avell he might be ; nor can we satisfactorily ac- 
 count for it, even after making all reasonable allow- 
 ance for the meanest motives which can actuate the 
 dispensers of patronage. We are Avell aware that 
 the gratitude of statesmen may be most especially 
 designated as a lively sense of favours or services to 
 come. New partisans are constantly entering the 
 arena : 
 
 " Then what tliey do in present, 
 Though less than yours In past, must o'ertop yours." 
 
 But Sydney Smith had still his tongue and pen. 
 It could not be said of him^ — " It is lucky he has 
 arrived at the place of his destination, for the horses 
 are off." There were few public men who could 
 afford to profess indifference to his praise or blame ; 
 and an opportune pamphlet or article from him, at a 
 critical period or in a balanced state of parties, might 
 make or mar a Minister. But the Whio; or Liberal 
 debt was left unpaid till 1831, when, by way of 
 tardy instalment, he was appointed to a prebendal 
 stall at St. Paul's by Lord Grey.* 
 
 One of the first things, we are told in a note, 
 which Lord Grey said on entering Downing Street, 
 was, " Now I shall be able to do something for Sydney 
 Smith." Then why was not more done for him ? 
 Lord Melbourne is reported to have said that there 
 was nothin": he more re£rretted than the not havino- 
 made Sydney Smith a bishop. Iliis has been denied 
 
 * It has been sucrgested that the terms in which Sydnov Sniitli, in 
 concert with Lord Grey, spolcc of the Junction Ministry, and his unit'onu 
 abuse of Canning, may account for his being passed over in 1827.
 
 30 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH : 
 
 on good authority ; but Lord John Russell writes, — 
 *'My dear Sydney, I tliink you are quite right not 
 to be ambitious of the prelacy, as it would lead to 
 much disquiet for you ; but, if I had entirely my own 
 way in these matters, you should have the oppor- 
 tunity of refusing it." At a long antecedent period, 
 Lord Holland thus anticipates the only plausible 
 objection, — 
 
 " My dear Sydney, — I wish you could have heard my 
 conversation Avith Lord Grenville the other day, and the 
 warm and enthusiastic way in which he spoke of ' Peter 
 Plymley.' I did not fail to remind him that th"e only author 
 to whom we both thought It could be compared in English, lost 
 a bishopric for his wittiest performance ; and I hoped that, if 
 Ave could discover the author, and had ever a bishopric in our 
 gift, we should prove that Whigs were both more grateful 
 and more liberal than Tories." 
 
 Yet the Whigs, we speak it with sorrow, left the 
 initiative to the Tories, and indirectly sanctioned the 
 prejudices or calumnies which the most eminent of 
 them repelled, discredited, and despised. We sym- 
 pathise with the biographer in her protest against 
 any comparison, except in purely mental qualities, 
 with the Dean of St. Patrick's ; but we have little 
 doubt that there was a solid foundation for the 
 limited parallel suggested by Lord Holland, although 
 Sydney was not 
 
 " By an old murderess pursued, 
 A crazy prelate, and a royal prude." 
 
 The persons indicated in this vindictive couplet 
 are the Duchess of Somerset, the Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, and Queen Anne. In the " Windsor 
 Prophecy," the Duchess is ridiculed for the redness 
 of her hair, and upbraided as having been privy to 
 the murder of her first husband. It was doubted, 
 suggests Scott, which imputation she accounted the 
 more cruel insult, especially since the first charge
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 81 
 
 was undeniable, and the second only arose from the 
 malice of the poet. At her instigation, the Arch- 
 bishop tried to prevent Swift's promotion by ques- 
 tioning his orthodoxy, and when his Grace had failed, 
 she succeeded, by dint of tears and supplications, 
 in inducing her royal mistress to refuse the expected 
 bishopric. The beautiful Duchess who filled the 
 corresponding post in the English Court when Sydney 
 Smith's claims (which, we fear, never came so nigh 
 the ear of Majesty) were preferred, would have been 
 more likely to weep at their rejection; yet some 
 one certainly attempted to play, with the Premier, 
 the part which the " crazy prelate " vainly at- 
 temped with Queen Anne. Lady Holland quotes a 
 letter from her father to Lord John Russell, in which 
 
 (April, 1837) he writes — " I defy to quote one 
 
 single passage of my writing contrary to the doc- 
 trines of the Church. I defy him to mention a 
 single action of my life which he can call im- 
 moral. The only thing he could charge me with 
 would be high spirits and much innocent non- 
 sense. I am distinguished as a preacher, and sedu- 
 lous as a parochial clergyman. His real charge is, 
 that I am a high-spirited, honest, uncompromising 
 man, whom all the bench of bishops could not turn, 
 and who would set them all at defiance upon great 
 and vital questions. This is the reason why (as far 
 as depends upon others) I am not a bishop ; but I 
 am thoroughly sincere in saying I would not take 
 any bishopric whatever, and to this I pledge my 
 honour and character as a gentleman. But, had I 
 been a bishop, you would have seen me on a late 
 
 occasion, cliarging and with a gallantry 
 
 which would have warmed your heart's blood, and 
 made jMelbourne rub the skin off his hands." 
 
 Two years before his death he reverted to this 
 subject in conversation with the writer, in his garden
 
 32 THE KEV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 at Combe Florey. " They showed a want of moral 
 courage, in not making me a bishop," was his remark, 
 " but I nmst own that it required a good deal. They 
 know, you know, all who have lived or talked much 
 with me must know, that I should have devoted myself 
 heart and soul to my duties, and that the episcopal 
 dignity would have sustained no loss in my keeping. 
 But I have only myself to blame if I have been mis- 
 understood." 
 
 His letters will amply vindicate his memory from 
 the charge of thinking lightly on serious or sacred 
 subjects. His critics forget that one of the finest 
 observers who ever lived, has defined gravity as a 
 mystery of the body for concealing the emptiness 
 of the mind. Erasmus wrote an essay in praise of 
 folly. Sir Thomas More jested on the scaffold, and 
 his alleged levity is the theme of one of Addison's 
 most admired papers : — " The innocent mirth, which 
 had been so conspicuous in his life, did not forsake 
 him to the last. His death was of a piece with his 
 life : there was nothing in it new, forced, or affected." 
 Forced gravity, out of keeping with the known cha- 
 racter, would afford better ground for cavil or sus- 
 picion than habitual vivacity, which only superficial 
 observers can mistake for insensibility or indifference ; 
 and if compelled to choose between the laughing and 
 the crying schools of moralists, we should award the 
 palm of trustworthiness to the disciples of Demo- 
 critus. 
 
 In default of an episcopal palace, Sydney Smith 
 removed, in 1828, to Combe Florey, near Taunton, 
 which he soon converted into one of the most com- 
 fortable and delightful of parsonages. The house 
 was situated in a picturesque little valley, at the end 
 of which was a wood with pleasant walks cut through 
 it. The climate was warm and soft, and he was wont 
 to expatiate on its merits in a style somewhat resem-
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTEK, AND WRITINGS. 33 
 
 bling Lord Jeffrey's myrtle delusions at Craig Crook. 
 On one occasion, when some London visitors were 
 expected, he called in art to aid nature, and caused 
 oranges to be tied to the shrubs in the drive and 
 garden. The stratagem succeeded admirably, and 
 great was his exultation when an unlucky urchin 
 from the villao-e was detected in the act of suckino; 
 one through a quill. It was as good, he said, as the 
 birds pecking at Zeuxis' grapes, or the donkeys 
 munching Jeffrey's supposed myrtles for thistles. 
 Another time, on a lady's happening to hint that the 
 pretty paddock would be improved by deer, he fitted 
 his two donkeys with antlers, and placed them with 
 their extraordinary head-gear immediately in front 
 of the windows. The effect, enhanced by the puzzled 
 looks of the animals, was ludicrous in the extreme. 
 
 -But in his most frolicsome moods he never prac- 
 tised what is called practical joking, agreeing in 
 opinion on this topic with the late Marquess of Hert- 
 ford, who checked a party of ingenious tormentors 
 at Sudbourn Avith the remark, that the human mind 
 was various, and that there was no knowing how 
 much melted butter a gentleman would bear in his 
 pocket without quarreling. There was one practical 
 joke, however, which Sydney admitted he should 
 like to see repeated, if only as an experiment in 
 physics and metaphysics. It was the one played off 
 in the last century on a Mr. O'Brien, whose bedroom 
 windows were carefully boarded up, so that not a ray 
 of light could penetrate. When he rang his bell in 
 the morning, a servant appeared, half dressed and 
 yawning, witli a candle, and anxiously asked if he 
 was ill. Ashamed of the fancied irregularity, the 
 patient recomposcd himself to sleep, but at the end 
 of a couple of hours rang again, and again the same 
 pantomime was enacted. "Open the shutters." They 
 Avere opened, and all Avithout Avas as dark as a Avolf's 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 3 4 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH : 
 
 mouth. He was kept in bed till driven to desperation 
 by hunger, when rushing out upon the landing-place, 
 he found that he had only just time to dress for a 
 late dinner. 
 
 There was one kind of mystification in which 
 Sydney Smith shone preeminent, — that of which the 
 pretended extract from an old Dutch Chronicle, 
 quoted in his first letter to Archdeacon Singleton, is 
 an amusing specimen. Still better was the report 
 supplied by him to a Yorkshire paper, of the alleged 
 trial of a farmer at the Northamptonshire Sessions 
 for keeping a savage dog, and the sentence of im- 
 prisonment, with hard labour and private whipping, 
 passed upon the offender. The effect, he said, was 
 wonderful, and the reign of Cerberus closed in the 
 land. " That accounts," remarked Lord Spencer, on 
 hearing him relate the story, " for what has puzzled 
 me and Althorp for many years. We never failed to 
 attend the Sessions at Northampton, and we never 
 could find out how we had missed this remarkable 
 dog case." Even editorial dignity and credulity 
 were sometimes ruthlessly trifled with. The pub- 
 lication named at the head of his article on " Counsel 
 for Prisoners," had no existence except in his own 
 creative fancy. 
 
 When Sydney Smith first settled in Yorkshire, he 
 was in the habit of ridino^ a good deal. About this 
 time he writes : — "I used to think a fall from a 
 horse dangerous, but much experience has convinced 
 me to the contrary. I have had six falls in two 
 years, and just behaved like the three per cents 
 when they fall, — I got up again, and am not a bit 
 the worse for it, any more than the stock in question." 
 " At a later period," he says, " I left off riding for 
 the good of my family ; for somehow or other my 
 horse and I had had a habit of parting company. On 
 one occasion I found myself suddenly prostrate in the
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTEE, AND WRITINGS. 35 
 
 streets of York, much to the delight of the Dissenters. 
 Another time my horse Calamity flung me over his 
 liead into a neighbouring parish, as if I had been a 
 shuttlecock, and I felt grateful it was not into a 
 neighbouring planet." 
 
 The late Charles Matthews having had his limbs 
 fractured two or three times by falls from gigs, 
 vowed never to enter one again unless he was first 
 satisfied, by . ocular demonstration, that the horse 
 would bear the sawing of the reins under his tail 
 without kicking. Sydney Smith had an equal horror 
 of this description of vehicle, and maintained that, 
 as regarded the prolongation of human life, the in- 
 vention of gigs had more than counterbalanced the 
 discovery of vaccination. According to Mr. Apperly 
 (Nimrod), a hunting parson makes friends, a shooting 
 parson makes enemies. Sydney Smith tells us that 
 he gave up sliooting, first, " because I found, on 
 trying at Lord Grey's, that the birds seemed to con- 
 sider the muzzle of my gun as their safest position ; 
 secondly, because 1 never could help sliutting my 
 eyes when I fired my gun, so was not likely to im- 
 prove ; and thirdly, because, if you do shoot, the 
 squire and the poacher both consider you as their 
 natural enemy, and I thought it more clerical to be 
 at peace with both." 
 
 In an argument with a serious baronet, who ob- 
 jected to clerical sporting in the abstract, he stood 
 up for angling. " I give up fly-fishing : it is a light, 
 volatile, dissipated pursuit. But ground-bait, with a 
 good steady float that never bobs without a bite, is 
 an occupation for a bishop, and in no ways interferes 
 with sermon-making." He once discovered some 
 tench in a pond at Sandhill I'ark (a scat of the Letli- 
 bridges close to Combe Foley), and kept the secret 
 till he had caught every one of them (an exploit re- 
 quiring several days), when he loudly triumphed over 
 
 I) '2
 
 3G THE IlEV. SYDNEY SMITH : 
 
 the fishennan of the family. Writing to Lady Grey, 
 he says, " his (Jolin Grey's) refusal of the living of 
 Simbury convinces me that he is not fond of gudgeon- 
 fishing. I had figured to myself you and Lord Grey, 
 and myself, engaged in that occupation upon the 
 river Thames." 
 
 Lady Holland's description of a morning at Combe 
 Florey may form a companion picture for her sketch 
 of the arrival of the family at Foston : — 
 
 " The room, an oblong, was, as I have already described, 
 surrounded on three sides by books, and ended, in a bay-win- 
 dow opening into the garden : not brown, dark, dull-looking 
 volumes, but all in tlie brightest bindings ; for he carried his 
 system of furnishing for gaiety even to the dress of his books. 
 
 " He would come down into this long low room in the 
 morning like a 'giant refreshed to run his course,' brlglit 
 and happy as the scene around him. ' Thank God for Combe 
 Florey ! ' he would exclaim, throwing himself into his red 
 arm-chair, and looking round ; ' I feel like a bridegroom in 
 the honeymoon.' And in truth I doubt if ever bridegroom 
 felt so joyous, or at least made others feel so joyous, as he 
 did on these occasions. ' Ring the bell, Saba ; ' the usual 
 refrain, by the by, in every pause, for he contrived to keep 
 everybody actively employed around him, and nobody ever 
 objected to be so employed. ' Ring the bell, Saba.' Enter 
 
 the servant, D , ' D , glorify the room.' This meant 
 
 that the three Venetian windows of the bay were to be flung 
 open, displaying the garden on every side, and letting in a 
 
 blaze of sunshine and flowers. D glorifies the room 
 
 with the utmost gravity, and de[)arts. ' You would not 
 believe it,' he said, 'to look at him now, but D is a re- 
 formed Quaker. Yes, he quaked, or did quake ; his brother 
 
 quakes still: but D is now thoroughly orthodox. I 
 
 should not like to be a Dissenter in his way ; he is to be one 
 
 of my vergers at St. Paul's some day. Lady B calls them 
 
 my virgins. She asked me the other day, " Pray, Mr. Smith, 
 is it true that you walk down St. Paul's with three viigins 
 holding silver pokers before you ? " I shook my head, and 
 looked very grave, nnd bid her come and see. Some enemy of 
 the Church, some Dissenter, had clearly been misleading her.'
 
 Ills LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 37 
 
 " ' There now/ sitting down at the breakfast -table, ' take 
 a lesson of economy. You never breakfasted in a parsonage 
 before, did you ? There, you see, my china is all white, so 
 if broken can always be reneweJ ; the same with my plates 
 at dinner : did you observe my plates ? every one a different 
 pattern, some of them sweet articles ; it was a pleasure to dine 
 upon such a plate as I had last night. It is true, Mrs. Sydney, 
 who is a great herald, is shocked because some of them have 
 the arms of a royal duke or a knight of the garter on them ; 
 but that does not signify to me. My plan is to go into a 
 china-shop and bid them show me every plate they have which 
 does not cost more than half a crown ; you see the result.' 
 
 " ' I think breakfast so pleasant because no one is con- 
 ceited before one o'clock.' 
 
 " Mrs. Marcet admired his ham. ' Oh,' said he, ^our hams 
 are the only true hams ; yours are Sbems and Japhets.' " 
 — vol. i. pp. 331-3. 
 
 A good deal of this may be nonsense, as no one 
 knew better than himself; but it is cheerful, sparkling, 
 joy-inspiring nonsense, such as none but a good, happy, 
 right-minded, highly cultivated, and very clever man 
 could talk. Rousseau, the antipodes of the rector of 
 Combe Florey, also professed " un gout vif pour les 
 d(^jeuners. C'est le temps de la journee ou nous sommes 
 le plus tranquilles, ou nous causons le plus a notre aise." 
 The memory of Mr. Rogers's breakfasts will last as long- 
 as that of Madame du Deffand's suppers ; but the fame 
 of colloquial meetings is connnonly lowered rather than 
 exalted by description ; and we are sorry that Lady 
 Holland has called in the aid of note-takinnr friends 
 and admirers to confirm her impressions of the Combe 
 Florey "feasts of reason and How of soul" by their 
 reminiscences. 
 
 " Eloquence," says Bolingbroke, " must flow like a 
 stream that is fed by an abundant spring, and not 
 spout forth a little frothy water on some gaudy day, 
 and remain dry the rest of the year." So must hu- 
 mour, and Sydney Smith's was so fed ; yet it was 
 
 D 3
 
 38 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH : 
 
 seldom overpowering, and never exhausting, except 
 by the prolonged fits of laughter which it provoked. 
 Although in one of his letters already quoted he calls 
 himself a diner-out, he had none of the prescriptive 
 attributes of that now happily almost extinct tribe. 
 lie had no notion of talking for displa3^ He talked 
 because he could not help it ; because his spirits were 
 excited, and his mind was full. He consciously or 
 unconsciously, too, abided by Lord Chesterfield's 
 rule, " Pay your own reckoning, but do not treat the 
 whole company ; this being one of the very few cases 
 in which people do not care to be treated, every one 
 being fully convinced that he has wherewithal to 
 pay." His favourite maxim (copied from Swift) was 
 " take as many half-minutes as you can get, but never 
 talk more than half a minute without pausing and 
 giving others an opportunity to strike in." He 
 vowed that Buchon, a clever and amiable man of 
 letters who talked on the opposite principle, was the 
 identical Frenchman who murmured as he was 
 anxiously watching a rival, " S'il crache ou tousse, il 
 est perdu," 
 
 Far from being jealous of competition, he was always 
 anxious to dine in company with men who were able 
 and entitled to hold their own ; and he was never 
 pleasanter than when some guest of congenial turn of 
 mind assisted him to keep up the ball. On the oc- 
 casion of the first attempt (at the Avriter's chambers 
 in the Temple) to bring him and Theodore Hook 
 together, Lockhart arrived Avith the information that 
 Hook was priming himself (as was his wont) at the 
 Athenaium Club, with a tumbler or two of hot punch. 
 " Oh," exclaimed Sydney, " if it comes to that, let us 
 start fair. When Mr. Hook is announced, announce 
 Mr. Smith's punch." When they did meet they con- 
 tracted a mutual liking, and Sydney ran on with his 
 usual flow and felicity ; but poor Hook had arrived 
 at that period of his life when his wonderful powers
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 39 
 
 required a greater amount of stimulants than could 
 be decently imbibed at an ordinary London dinner 
 with a clergyman. 
 
 Sydney Smith almost invariably made it his special 
 business to call out and encourage the display of any 
 latent elements of information or agreeability in any 
 silent, unobtrusive, or abashed member of the com- 
 pany. At the same time, he by no means disliked 
 mixing Avith what he called commonplace, humdrum 
 people, endowed with only an indistinct perception 
 of a joke ; and he rightly conceived that he had done 
 the State good service by the invention of the " Fool- 
 ometer." In 1818 we find him writing to Earl Grey : 
 " I will send Lady Grey the news from London when 
 I get there. I am sure she is too wise a woman 
 not to be fond of gossiping. I am fond of it, and 
 have some talents for it." It formed in his opinion 
 an excellent foundation for the more elevated order 
 of social intercourse ; since conversation, like singing, 
 if commenced in too high a key, is apt to get over- 
 strained and out of tune. No one knew better how 
 and when to turn from gay to grave. There was 
 always plenty of bread to his sack. His intellectual 
 larder in no respect resembled that of the Prince in 
 the fairy tale, which contained nothing but cream 
 tarts, with or without pepper. There was abundance 
 of plain wholesome food to be found in Sydney's, 
 which was frequently served up without sauce or 
 condiment to the guest who was fortunate enou2:h to 
 be his companion in a ride or walk ; when the corus- 
 cations of his humour were relieved, not by flashes 
 of silence, but by the moonlight beams of good feeling 
 and good sense. 
 
 When he stopped to give directions to his servants 
 or labourers he was well worth listening to. On it 
 being pointed out to him that his gardener was 
 tearing off too many of the leaves of a vine, he told 
 
 JO 4
 
 40 THE REV, SYDNEY SMITH : 
 
 him to desist. The man, a, Scotchman, looked un- 
 convinced. " Now, understand me," he continued ; 
 " you are probably right, but I don't wish you to do 
 what is right ; and as it is my vine, and there are no 
 moral laws for pruning, you may as well do as I 
 wish." Sir Henry Holland's high authority is ad- 
 duced in favour of Sydney's medical knowledge ; but 
 we have our doubts whether the health of either 
 Foston or Combe Florey was improved by the in- 
 dulgence of his hobby in this particular. A com- 
 position of blue-pill wliich he was glad to " dart into 
 the intestines " of any luckless wight whom he could 
 induce to swallow it, sometimes operated in a manner 
 which he had not anticipated. One morning, at 
 Combe Florey, a regular practitioner from Taunton, 
 who had been going his weekly round and was con- 
 siderately employed to overlook the serious cases, 
 came in with rather a long face and stated that an 
 elderly woman, who had been taking the pill during 
 several consecutive nio-hts for the lumbao^o, com- 
 plained that her gums were sore, and he therefore 
 advised the discontinuance of it. A London visitor, 
 who had tried it once, began to titter ; and Sydney, 
 after attempting a weak apology for his practice, 
 heartily joined in the laugh, exclaiming: " What a story 
 you will make of this, when you next breakfast with 
 Eogers, and how he and Luttrell will triumph in it ! " 
 Soon afterwards he wrote to inquire about the 
 capabilities of a medical gentleman. 
 
 "Dec. 11, 1843. Combe Florey, Taunton. 
 " Dear Hayward, — Do you know any tiling of the Escu- 
 lapius of Lyme Regis? Docs he march in the path of 
 rhubarb? Can he remove a hmb ? Docs he know his way 
 in the bowels ? Can he see in the cajcura ? Can he remove 
 a full stop in the colon ? Is his practice right in the rectum ? 
 In plain prose, do you know anything about him, and is he 
 fit for the office he is desirous to fill ?
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 41 
 
 " I am here without motive, without excitement, in a state 
 of quiet which I hate, and amongst the beauties of nature for 
 which I have httle taste. I envy you the dirt, the hurricane, 
 and mahgnity in which (as all London people) you live. 
 
 " Ever truly yours, 
 
 " Sydney Smith." 
 
 "If you come to the West to see your father, or, as the 
 Scotch call him, your cause, and will bestow a day upon us, 
 we shall be very glad to see you." 
 
 The rapidity with which reading men, particularly 
 critics and those who read for a purpose, get over the 
 ground, has often astonished persons unpractised in 
 the art. Dr. Johnson has been described as tearinir 
 out the heart of a book, and he seldom read one fairly 
 through. Sydney Smith's mode of reading must have 
 been equally quick, for we find him writing to Lady 
 Grey : — "I recommend you to read Hall's, Palmer's, 
 Fearon's, and Bradling's, ' Travels in America,' 
 particularly Fearon's ; these four books may, with 
 ease, be read through between breakfast and dinner." 
 The truth is, any one accustomed to composition, and 
 conversant with the subject, can see at a glance 
 whether a new author has contributed anything va- 
 luable or curious to the preexisting stock of thought 
 or knowledge, and will fasten intuitively on the 
 passages which contain the pith of the work. Rare 
 are the cases in which the packing and stuffing, the 
 beating about the bush and the amplification, do not 
 constitute the larger half of the publication. 
 
 Li this cursory fashion, he contrived to acquire a 
 general knowledge of the recent and more popular dis- 
 coveries in ph3'sical science, especially geology ; and 
 held its leading professors in high honour, although he 
 was wont to make them the object of a little harmless 
 raillery. The following letter was addressed to Mr. 
 (now Sir Roderick) Murchison, whilst he was attend- 
 ing the British Association during its first meeting
 
 42 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 at Glaspjow under the presidency of the Marquess of 
 Breadalbane. 
 
 " Combe Florey, 1840. 
 
 " Dear Murcliison, — Many thanks for your kind recollec- 
 tions of me in sending me your pamphlet, which I shall read 
 with all attention and care. INIy observation has been neces- 
 sarily so much fixed on missions of another description, that 
 I am hardly reconciled to zealots going out with voltaic 
 batteries and crucibles, for the conversion ol' mankind, and 
 baptizing their fellow-creatures with the mineral acids; but 
 I will endeavour to admire, and believe in you. My real 
 alarm for you is, that, by some late decisions of the magis- 
 trates, you come under the legal definition of strollers; and 
 nothing would give me more i)ain than to see any of the Sec- 
 tions upon the mill, calculating the resistance of the air, 
 and showing the additional quantity of flour which might be 
 ground in vacuo, — each man in the meantime imagining 
 himself a Galileo. 
 
 " Mrs. Sydney has eight distinct illnesses, and I have nine. 
 We take something every hour, and ])ass the mixture from 
 one to the other. 
 
 "About forty years ago, I stopped an infant in Lord 
 Breadalbane's grounds, and patted his face. The nurse said, 
 ' Hold up your head, Lord Glenorchy.' This was the Presi- 
 dent of your society. He seems to be acting an honourable 
 and enlightened part in life. Pray present my respects to 
 him and his beautiful marchioness. 
 
 " Sydney Smith. 
 
 " Since writing this, I have read your Memoir, — a little 
 too flowei'y, but very sensible and good." 
 
 He was too liberal and enlightened a divine to 
 believe that sound religion could be shaken or under- 
 mined by the diffusion of truth, and, when the cry of 
 Moses against Murchison was raised at York, he 
 gallantly sided with the geologist. He practised the 
 toleration wdiich he preached. Li his speech on the 
 Catholic Claims, at a meeting of the clergy in the 
 East Riding, he says : " My excellent and respectable 
 curate, Mr. Milestones, alarmed at the effect of the 
 Pope upon the East Riding, has come here to oppose 
 me; and there he stands breathing war and ven-
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 43 
 
 geance on the Yatican. We had some previous 
 conversation on this subject ; and, in imitation of 
 our superiors, we agreed not to make it a cabinet 
 question." 
 
 Sydney Smith's mode of writing may be guessed. 
 His sentences were not painfully elaborated, drop by 
 drop, like Fox's, nor his proofs corrected three or 
 four times over, like Burke's. His articles were ob- 
 viously more than half composed before he proceeded 
 to commit them to paper. But he was by no means 
 devoid of the common sensitiveness to editorial emen- 
 dation ; and he more than once complains of Jeffrey 
 for spoiling his jokes. 
 
 He was fond of good eating, and kept an excellent 
 table as soon as he could afford it. His well-known 
 recipe for salad contains two lines which his friend 
 Luttrell might have envied: 
 
 " Let onion atoms lurk within the bowl, 
 And, scarce suspected, animate the whole." 
 
 He insisted on warmth as indispensable to convi- 
 vial or social enjoyment, and was wont to contend 
 that compatibility of temperature was as necessary to 
 domestic happiness as compatibility of temper. He 
 liked a profusion of light, and complained that Rogers's 
 dininsr-room, in which the lis-ht was reflected from 
 the pictures, was a place of " darkness and gnashing 
 of teeth." Amongst his personal peculiarities, it 
 deserves to be recorded that he much preferred con- 
 versation to music, although endowed with a good 
 ear, and that he had a strong dislike to theatres and 
 theatrical entertainments. 
 
 The old rules of evidence should be strictly enforced 
 as regards Sydney Smith. No hearsay versions of 
 his sayings should be admissible. It is really too 
 bad to have inaccurate versions of Charles Fox's 
 well-known comment on Thurlow's countenance, Thur- 
 lovv's equally familiar remark on corporations, Joseph 
 Hume's application of the term "allegator" to Sir
 
 44 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 Robert Peel, Lord Ellenborougli's jokes on the 
 stammering barrister and the yawning peer, with 
 reported sayings of Luttrell, and notorious instances 
 of the late Lord Dudley's or Mr. Bowles's absence of 
 mind, deliberately set down and printed as specimens 
 of Sydney Smith's conversational felicity. So long 
 as the biographer trusts to her own resources, all 
 generally goes right. To those who never heard him 
 in an exuberant mood the following sample of his 
 manner may convey a notion of it : 
 
 " Some one mentioned tliat a young Scotchman, who had 
 been lately in the neighbourhood, was about to marry an 
 Irish widow, double his age and of considerable dimensions. 
 ' Going to marry her ! ' he exclaimed, bursting out laughing ; 
 'going to marry her ! impossible I you mean, a part of her: 
 he could not marry her all himself. It would be a case, not 
 of bigamy, but trigatny ; the neighbourhood or the magis- 
 trates should interfere. There is enough of her to furnish 
 wives for a whole parish. One man marry her ! — it is mon- 
 strous. You might people a colony with her ; or give an 
 assembly with her; or perliaps take your morning's walk 
 round her, always provided there were frequent resting- 
 places, and you were in rude health. I once wasrnsh enough 
 to try walking round her before breakfast, but only got half- 
 way and gave it up exhausted. Or you might read the Riot 
 Act and disperse her ; in short, you might do anything with 
 her but marry her.' ' Oh, Mr. Sydney ! ' said a young lady 
 recovering from the general laugh, did you make all that your- 
 self? ' ' Yes, Lucy,' — throwing himself back in his chair and 
 shaking with laughter ; ' all myself, child ; all my own thunder. 
 Do you think, when I am about to make a joke, I send for 
 my neighbours C. and G., or consult the clerk and church- 
 wardens upon it? But let us go into the garden.' And, all 
 laughing till we cried, without hats or bonnets, we sallied 
 forth out of his glorified window into the garden." — vol. i. 
 pp. 344-5. 
 
 The story of his furnishing his house with pictures 
 is correct in the main ; but the biographer has for- 
 gotten to state that he gravely consulted two Royal
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 45 
 
 Academicians, and when they had been some time 
 considering what sales were likely to take place, he 
 added, by way of after-thought, " Oh, I ought to have 
 told you that my outside price for a picture is thirty- 
 five shillings." The reminiscent has omitted the best 
 part of the remark on the late Lord Denman, which 
 was, that it was a wonder his court was not con- 
 stantly beset with sculptors and artists engaged in 
 studying and copying so fine a model. 
 
 Several of his jokes or oddities (as the invention 
 of the patent armour against bodily ailments, and the 
 tying oranges on the bay trees on the lawn) are told 
 twice over with variations ; and many of the pointed 
 remarks, reported as conversational, will be found 
 nuich better expressed in his printed letters or publi- 
 cations. He is made to say of one of his neighbours : 
 
 " I believe would die for his game. He is truly a 
 
 pheasant-minded man: he revenged himself upon me 
 by telling all the Joseph Millers he could find as my 
 jokes." This gentleman has certainly found efi'ec- 
 tive cooperation where he had least reason to hope 
 for it, namely, amongst the friends and admirers of 
 his victim. Some of the most enthusiastic of these, 
 Avith all their cultivation and accomplishment, were 
 notoriously endowed with the faintest possible per- 
 ception of humour, and were really attracted to him 
 by his understanding and his cheerfulness. 
 
 The Americans were very angry at his Repudiation 
 Letters, and their Press accused him in the coarsest 
 language of being exclusively actuated by interested 
 motives. This was a mistake. His loss did not 
 exceed 50/., and the line he took muy be sufiiciently 
 accounted for by his instinctive hatred of dishonesty, 
 and his fears lest free institutions should be dis- 
 credited. There was more sorrow than anger in his 
 concluding remark, " And now having eased my soul 
 of its indignation, and sold my stock at 40 per cent
 
 46 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 discount, I sulkily retire from the subject, with a 
 lixecl intention of lenclin*^ no more money to free and 
 enlightened republics ; but of employing my money 
 henceforth in buying up Abyssinian bonds, and pur- 
 chasin<r into the Turkish Fours, or the Tunis Three- 
 and-a-half per Cent Funds." 
 
 He was fond of the society of cultivated Americans, 
 although he was wont to complain of their slow per- 
 ception of humour, and their touchiness when they 
 suspected the laugh to be at their expense. Once, 
 wdien a former representative of the United States 
 flared up at an unlucky doubt expressed whether 
 canvas-back ducks were not a " humbug," Sydney 
 turned round to the sceptical gourmand and ex- 
 claimed, " Now, you are in for it. You had better 
 have trampled upon their flag." It was upon this 
 occasion he said: " I had 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." He would relate with great glee how 
 a celebrated Yankee critic claimed fellowship with 
 hiin as one of the craft, and gravely asked his opinion 
 Avhether he did not think pepper and vinegar the 
 essential ingredients of a review. His first reflection 
 after his introduction to Webster (whose eminent 
 qualities are acknowledged in the correspondence) 
 was that time could not be valuable in America. 
 
 On receiving some American papers taking his 
 side of the Repudiation question, he wrote : 
 
 "Bowood, Jan. 8, 1844. 
 "Dear Hayward, — Many thanks for your good-nature. 
 
 From the opposite principle, the has sent me all the 
 
 American abuse. Tliey call me a minor canon eighty-five 
 years of age, an ass, and a Xantipj^e, mistaking evidently 
 the sex of that termagant person. The truth is that neither 
 Macaulay nor Croker are like the Falls of Niagara. Macaulay
 
 .< 7 
 
 IIIS LIFE, CHARACTEK, AND WRITINGS. 4^ 
 
 is always rising instead of falling, and Croker has ceased to 
 fill, because he can fall no lower than he has done already. 
 We have had a very agreeable party here. I return on 
 Tuesday. '' Ever truly yours, 
 
 " Sydney Smith." 
 
 He often alluded with evident complacency to the 
 spread of his fame on the other side of the Atlantic, 
 as when he says, " I have heard that one of the 
 American Ministers in this country was so oppressed 
 by the numbers of his countrymen applying for in- 
 troductions, that he was obliged at last to set up sham 
 Sydney Smiths and false Macaulays. But they can't 
 have been good counterfeits ; for a most respectable 
 American, on his return home, was heard describing 
 Sydney Smith as a thin, grave, dull old fellow ; and 
 as to Macaulay (said he) I never met a more silent 
 man in my life." Sophie Arnault actually played off 
 a similar trick on a party of Parisian fine ladies and 
 gentlemen who had expressed a wish to meet Rous- 
 seau. She dressed up a theatrical tailor who bore 
 some likeness to the author of " Emile," and placed 
 him next to herself at dinner, with instructions not 
 to open his mouth except to eat and drink. Un- 
 luckily he opened it too often for the admission of 
 champagne, and began talking in a style befitting the 
 coulisses ; but this only added to the delusion, and 
 the next day the noble faubourg rang with praises of 
 the easy sparkling pleasantry of the philosopher. 
 According to another well-authenticated anecdote, 
 there was a crazy fellow at Edinburgh, who called 
 himself Doctor, fancied that he had once been on the 
 point of obtaining the chair of Moral Philosophy, and 
 professed the most extravagant admiration for a cele- 
 brated poet. Some wag suggested that he should 
 pay a visit to his idol. He did so, and stayed two 
 days, indulging liis monomania, but simultaneously 
 gratifying his host's prodigious appetite for adulation ;
 
 48 THE IJEV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 and the poet uniformly spoke of him as one of the 
 most intelligent and well-informed Scotchmen he had 
 ever known. When this story was told to Sydney 
 Smith, he offered the narrator live shillings for the 
 exclusive right to it for a week. The bargain was 
 struck, and the money paid down. 
 
 With all his boundless fertility of fancy, he delighted 
 in a good story, and fully exemplified his own remarks 
 in the lecture on Wit and Humour. " If I say a good 
 thing to-day, and repeat it again to-morrow in another 
 company, the flash of to-day is as much like the flash 
 of to-morrow, as the flash of one nmsket is like the 
 flash of another : but if I tell a humorous story, there 
 are a thousand little diversities in my voice, manner, 
 lan£cuao:e> and g^estures, which render it rather a dif- 
 ferent thing from what it was before, and infuse a 
 tinge of novelty into the repeated narrative." A story 
 that seemed to haunt him for weeks, was one of a tame 
 magpye in a church, that suddenly descended on the 
 reading-desk and endeavoured to fly off with the 
 sermon ; and of the desperate struggle that ensued 
 between the bird and the preacher, " the congregation 
 all in favour of the pye." 
 
 There was another which he seldom failed to re- 
 peat whenever one of his most agreeable neighbours, 
 whose Christian name was Ambrose, was announced. 
 " Do you know how they pronounce Ambrose in 
 Yorkshire ? They turn it into Amorous. Once at 
 Foston, I was told that Amorous Phillips was waiting 
 to speak to me in the hall. ' Let him wait,' said I, 
 — deceived by this manner of pronunciation, which I 
 heard for the first time, — ' but do not let any of the 
 maid-servants go near him.' " 
 
 Many discriminating tributes to Sydney Smith's 
 worth and talents are included in this biography, but 
 Mrs. Austin's preface to the second volume renders 
 all the rest superfluous. It is a concise, convincing, 
 
 I
 
 HIS LIFE, CHAKACTERj AND WRITINGS. 49 
 
 impartial, and affectionate summary of her lamented 
 friend's leading merits and distinguishing qualities. 
 It hardly requires an addition, and certainly does not 
 admit of improvement. After justly remarking that, 
 many of the giants he combated being not only slain 
 but forgotten, the very completeness of his victory 
 tends to efface from the minds of the present genera- 
 tion the extent of their obligations to him, she asks, 
 " What other private gentleman of our day, uncon- 
 nected with Parliament, without rank or fortune, has 
 been able by a few pages from his pen to electrify the 
 country, as he did by his letters to the Americans ? 
 or to figlit single-handed against the combined power 
 of the ministry and of the dignitaries of the Church 
 — a battle in whicii he carried public opinion with 
 him ? " — or, we beg leave to add, to alter the whole 
 complexion of a controversy on a subject apparently 
 so exhausted as the Ballot ? At the same time, 
 we cannot quite agree with Mrs. Austin as to his 
 style ; and Sir Henry Holland's remarks, which 
 she quotes approvingly, must be read Avith a few 
 grains of allowance : — " If," writes Sir Henry, " Mr. 
 Sydney Smith had not been the greatest and most 
 brilliant of wits, he would have been the most re- 
 markable man of his time for a sound and vigorous 
 understanding and great reasoning powers ; and if 
 he had not been distinguished for these, he would 
 have been the most eminent and the purest writer of 
 English." 
 
 Since we are on the chapter of style, we may be 
 pardoned for suggesting that Sir Henry's obvious 
 meaning is not expressed with his usual precision. 
 But he clearly intended to assert that Sydney Smith, 
 besides being the most brilliant of wits, and pos- 
 sessing great reasoning powers, was no less remark- 
 able for the excellence of his style. Now a good style 
 is one which can be safely recommended for general 
 
 VOL. T. E
 
 50 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 use ; and in saying that Sydney Smith's was not, in 
 this sense at least, a good style, we say no more than 
 is indisputably true of Burke's, Gibbon's, or John- 
 son's. AYe are not denying that Sydney Smith's 
 style was admirably fitted for his purpose, and we 
 could cite passages of high eloquence which are un- 
 exceptionable in point of composition. His sermons, 
 which are mostly free from mannerism, prove that he 
 could combine purity and correctness with force of 
 lano;uao:e when he thouo-ht fit. But his humorous 
 writings are often deficient in ease, smoothness, 
 grace, rhythm, and purity, because he constantly 
 aimed at eff'ect by startling contrasts, by the juxta- 
 position of incongruous images or epithets, or by the 
 use of odd-sounding words and strange compounds of 
 Greek and Latin derivation. Thus he describes a 
 preacher wiping his face with his " cambric sudarium,^^ 
 and asks, " Why this holoplexia on sacred occasions 
 alone ? " A weak and foolish man is " anserous and 
 asinine." Dr. Parr's wig is the ixiya Oavfxa of barbers. 
 Mr. Grote is quizzed for supposing that England is 
 to be governed by " political acupuncturation," and 
 told that his concealed democrat, doomed to lead a 
 long life of lies between every election, " must do this 
 not only eundo, in his calm and prudential state, but 
 redeundo, from the market, warmed with beer and 
 expanded by alcohol." 
 
 This is certainly not pure English ; it is not even 
 popular writing, like Defoe's, or Swift's, or Cobbett's. 
 It is caviare to the multitude, and would require to be 
 interpreted for the benefit of the ladies and the 
 country gentlemen ; that is, if the country gentlemen 
 did not now constitute one of the most highly edu- 
 cated classes of our society. The art of true criticism 
 demands that we should subject ourselves to a strict 
 self-examination, and that we should analyse the 
 causes and sources of our impressions, favourable or
 
 'IIIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 51 
 
 unfavourable. Let Sir Henry Holland do this, and 
 he will admit that he has confounded the style with 
 the man, and that Sydney Smith sometimes formed a 
 striking exception to Buffon's famous dogma, Le style^ 
 c'est Vhomme. In this case the man was always na- 
 tural, simple, and essentially English, — the style was 
 often forced, factitious, composite, and (to boyow his 
 own word) cosmopolite. Many of his allusive ex- 
 pressions, rich with tlie raciest humour, could not be 
 enjoyed beyond the polished circles of the metropolis. 
 He wrote for the meridian of Holland House ; and 
 one reason why he notwithstanding exercised such 
 widespread influence, is to be found in the aristocratic 
 constitution of our Legislature. 
 
 AVhat Sir Henry Holland says of the suddenness 
 and unexpectedness of his manner is just. His 
 review of Madame d'Epinay's " Memoirs " begins 
 thus : 
 
 " There used to be in Paris, under the ancient regime, a 
 few women of brilliant talents, who violated all the common 
 duties of life, and gave very pleasant little suppers. Among 
 these supped and sinned Madame d'Epinay, the friend and 
 companion of Rousseau, Diderot, Grimm, Holbach, and many 
 other literary persons of distinction of that period. Her 
 principal lover was Grimm ; with whom was deposited, written 
 in feigned names, the history of her life. Grimm died — his 
 secretary sold the history — the feigned names have been 
 exchanged for the real ones — and her works now appear 
 abridged in three volumes octavo." 
 
 An excellent judge of composition, the Dean of St. 
 Paul's (Dr. Milman),has spoken of the increased vigour 
 of style and boldness of illustration in Sydney Smith's 
 writings as he advanced in years. This is most ob- 
 servable in the letters, the earliest of which, we 
 frankly own, have disappointed us, although they 
 contain ample confirmation (were any needed) of his 
 soundness of principle, his unaffected piety, his unde- 
 
 E 2
 
 52 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH : 
 
 viating rectitude of purpose, his aifectionatc disposi- 
 tion, his happy temper, and his warm heart. The 
 shortest are the best. The longest, we believe, cost 
 him no effort, but some of them read as if they did, 
 and we would gladly exchange them for a collection 
 of the notes he dashed off in the daily commerce of 
 life. Xlius in one excusing himself from keeping an 
 engagement to sup in the Temple: 
 
 "Charles Street, May 18, 1836. 
 " My dear Hay ward, — There is no more harm in talking 
 between eleven and one, than between nine and eleven. 
 Tlie Temple is as good as Charles Street. The ladies are 
 the most impregnable, and the gentlemen the most unim- 
 peachable, of the sex ; but still I have a feeling of the wick- 
 edness of supping in the Temple ; my delicate and irritable 
 virtue is alarmed, and I recede. 
 
 " Ever yours, S. S." 
 
 The following, printed in the selection, are tho- 
 roughly characteristic : 
 
 "Munden House, Friday 11, 1841. 
 
 " Dear Milnes, — I will not receive you on these terms, 
 
 but postpone you for safer times. I cannot blame you ; 
 
 but, seriously, dinners are destroyed by the inconveniences of 
 
 a free Government. I have filled up your place, and bought 
 
 y^"'^ ^°^^- « Sydney Smith." 
 
 "May 14, 1842. 
 *' My dear Dickens, — 1 accept your obliging invitation 
 conditionally. If I am invited by any man of greater genius 
 than yourself, or one by whose works I have been more com- 
 pletely interested, I will repudiate you, and dine with the 
 more splendid phenomenon of the two. 
 
 " Ever yours sincerely, 
 " Sydney Smith." 
 
 "July 4, 1843. 
 " My dear Lord ]\Iahon, — I am only half-recovered from 
 a violent attack of a-out in the knee, and I could not bear the 
 confinement of dinner, without getting up and walkijig be-
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 53 
 
 tween the courses, or thrusting my foot on somebody else's 
 chair, like the Archbishop of Dublin. For these reasons, I 
 have been forced for some time, and am still forced, to de- 
 cline dinner engagements. I should, in a sounder state, 
 have had great pleasure in accepting the very agreeable party 
 you are kind enough to propose to me ; but I shall avail 
 myself, in the next campaign, of your kindness. I consider 
 myself as well acquainted with Lady Mahon and yourself, 
 and shall hope to see you here, as well as elsewhere. Pray 
 present my benediction to your charming wife, who I am sure 
 would bring any plant in the garden into full flower by looking 
 at it, and smiling upon it. Try the experiment from mere 
 curiosity. 
 
 " Ever yours, Sydney Smith." 
 
 The following is a sample of his more thoughtful 
 epistles. It is addressed to his old friend Lord 
 Murray : 
 
 "Green Street, June 4, 1843. 
 
 " My dear Murray, — I should be glad to hear something 
 of your life and adventures, and more particularly so, as I 
 learn you have no intention of leaving Edinburgh for London 
 this season, 
 
 " Mrs. Sydney and I have been remarkably well, and are 
 so at present ; why, I cannot tell. I am getting very old in 
 years, but do not feel that I have beconu so in constitution. 
 My locomotive powers at seventy-three are abridged, but my 
 animal spirits do not desert me. I am become rich. My 
 youngest brother died suddenly, leaving behind him 100,000/. 
 and no will. A third of this therefore fell to my share, and 
 puts me at my ease for my few remaining years. After buying 
 into the Consols and the Reduced, I read Seneca ' On the 
 Contempt of Wealth ! ' AVhat intolerable nonsense ! I 
 heard your eloge from Lord Lansdowne when I dined with 
 him, and I need not say how heartily I concurred in it. 
 Next to me sat Lord Worsley, whose enclosed letter affected 
 me, and very much pleased me. I answered it with sincere 
 warmth. Pray return me the paper. Did you read my 
 American Petition, and did you approve it? 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 " Why don't they talk over the virtues and excellences of 
 
 E 3
 
 5-1 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 Lansdowne ? There is no man who performs the duties of 
 life better, or fills a higher station in a more becoming 
 manner. He is full of knowledge, and eager for its acqui- 
 sition. His remarkable politeness is the result of good 
 nature, regulated by good sense. He looks for talents and 
 qualities among all ranks of men, and adds them to his 
 stock of society, as a botanist does his plants ; and while 
 other aristocrats are yawning among Stars and Garters, 
 Lansdowne is i"efreshing his soul with the fancy and genius 
 which he has found in odd places, and gathered to the 
 marbles and pictures of his palace. Then he is an honest 
 politician, a wise statesman, and has a philosophic mind ; 
 he is very agreeable in conversation, and is a man of an 
 unblemished life. I shall take care of him in my Memoirs ! 
 
 " Kemember me very kindly to the maximus minimus 
 (Lord Jeffrey), and to the Scotch Church. I have urged ray 
 friend the Bishop of Durham to prepare kettles of soup for 
 the seceders, who will probably be wandering in troops over 
 our Northern Counties. 
 
 " Ever your sincere friend, 
 
 " Sydney Smith." 
 
 Without carrying the taste so far as Tieck, whose 
 Shakspeare readings and soirees at Dresden boasted 
 about four women to one man, Sydney Smith had a 
 marked predilection for female society. The letters 
 selected for publication were principally addressed to 
 ladies ; the Countess Grey, the late Lady Holland, 
 Mrs. Meynell of Temple Newsham, Mrs. Grote, and 
 Miss Georgiana Harcourt (now Mrs. Malcolm), being 
 amongst the most favoured of his fair correspondents. 
 The letters which passed between him and the Dow- 
 ager Countess of Morley are capital. She had more 
 of his peculiar humour, buoyancy of spirit, fertile 
 fancy, and unaffected cordiality than any other of 
 his contemporaries, male or female ; and the charm 
 of her merriment was ineffably enhanced by feminine 
 refinement and grace. Her death is the greatest loss 
 sustained by English Society since it lost him. In 
 the following playful competition of wit, their simi- 
 
 I
 
 HIS LIFE, CHAKACTER, AND WRITINGS. 55 
 
 larity and their congeniality in their sportive moods 
 are obvious : 
 
 [No date.] 
 *' Dear Lady Morley, — Pray understand me rightly : I 
 do not give the Bluecoat theory as an estabUshed fact, but as 
 a highly probable conjecture ; look at the circumstances. At 
 a very early age young Quakers disappear ; at a very early age 
 the Coat-boys are seen ; at the age of seventeen or eighteen 
 young Quakers are again seen ; at the same age the Coat-boys 
 disappear: who has ever heard of a Coat- man ? The thing 
 is utterly unknown in natural history. Upon what other 
 evidence does the migration of the grub into the aurelia 
 rest? After a certain number of days the grub is no 
 more seen, and the aurelia flutters over his relics. That such 
 a prominent fact should have escaped our naturalists is truly 
 astonishing ; I had long suspected it, but was afraid to 
 come out with a speculation so bold, and now mention it 
 as protected and sanctioned by you. 
 
 " Dissection would throw great light upon the question ; 
 
 and if our friend would receive two boys into his 
 
 house about the time of their changing their coats, great 
 service would be rendered to the cause. 
 
 " Our friend Lord Grey, not remarkable for his attention to 
 natural history, was a good deal struck with the novelty and 
 ingenuity of the hypothesis. I have ascertained that the 
 young Bluecoat infants are fed with drab-coloured pap, 
 which looks very suspicious. More hereafter on this in- 
 teresting subject. Where real science is to be promoted, I 
 will make no apology to your Ladyship for this intrusion. 
 
 "Yours truly, 
 
 " Sydney Smith." 
 
 [No date.] 
 " Had I received your letter," she replies, " two days since, 
 I should have said your arguments and theory were perfectly 
 convincing, and that the most obstinate sceptic must have 
 yielded to them ; but I have come across a person in that 
 interval who gives me information which puts us all at sea 
 again. That the Bluecoat boy should be the larva of the 
 Quaker in Great Britain is possible, and even probable, 
 but we must take a wider view of the question ; and here, 
 1 confess, I am bewildered by doubts and difficulties. The 
 
 E 4
 
 56 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH : 
 
 Bluecoat is an Indigenous animal — not so the Quaker; and 
 now be so good as to give your whole mind to the facts I 
 have to communicate. I have seen and talked much with 
 Sir R. Kerr Porter on this interesting subject. He has 
 travelled over the whole habitable globe, and has penetrated 
 with a scientific and scrutinising eye into regions hitherto 
 unexplored by civilised man ; and yet he has never seen a 
 Quaker baby. He has lived for years in Philadelphia (the 
 national nest of Quakers) ; he has roamed up and down 
 Broadways and lengthways in every nook and corner of 
 Pennsylvania ; and yet he never saw a Quaker baby ; and 
 what is new and most striking, never did he see a Quaker 
 lady in a situation which gave hope that a Quaker baby might 
 be seen hereafter. This is a stunning fact, and involving the 
 question in such impenetrable mystery as will, I fear, defy 
 even your sagacity, acuteness, and industry to elucidate. But 
 let us not be checked and cast down ; truth is the end and 
 object of our research. Let us not bate one jot of heart and 
 hope, but still bear up, and steer our course right onward. 
 
 *' Yours most truly, 
 
 " F. MORLEY." 
 
 It would be difficult to find a more pleasing speci- 
 men of his letters to ladies than the following to 
 Lady Dufferin : — 
 
 "Combe Florey [no date]. 
 
 " I am just beginning to get well from that fit of gout, 
 at the beginning of which you were charitable enough to pay 
 me a visit, and I said — the same Providence which inflicts 
 gout, creates Duffcrins! We must take the good and the 
 evils of life. 
 
 " I am charmed, I confess, with the beauty of this 
 country. I hope some day you will be charmed with it 
 too. It banished, however, every Arcadian notion to see 
 
 walk in at the gate to-day. I seemed to be transported 
 
 instantly to Piccadilly, and the innocence went out of me. 
 
 " I hope the process of furnishing goes on well. Attend, 
 I pray you, to the proper selection of an easy chair, where 
 you may cast yourself down in the weariness and distresses 
 of life, with the absolute certainty that every joint of the 
 human frame will receive all the comfort which can be 
 derived from easy position and soft materials ; then the glass,
 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 57 
 
 on which your eyes are so often fixed, knowing that you have 
 the great duty imposed on the Sheridan?, of looking well. 
 You may depend upon it, happiness depends mainly on these 
 little things. 
 
 " I hope you remain in perfect favour with Rogers, and 
 that you are not omitted in any of the dress breakfast 
 parties. Eemember me to the Norton : tell her I am glad to 
 be sheltered from her beauty by the insensibility of age ; 
 that I shall not live to see its decay, but die with that un- 
 faded image before ray eyes : but don't make a mistake, and 
 
 deliver the message to instead of your sister. 
 
 " I remain, dear Lady DuiFerin, very sincerely yours, 
 
 " Sydney Smith." 
 
 We had thoughts of attempting, with the aid of 
 Mr. Thackeray's Lectures, to draw a parallel between 
 Sydney Smith and the other leading English hu- 
 mourists ; but comparisons are proverbially odious, 
 and in a case like the present they would be both 
 unjust and inconclusive. Sydney Smith stands 
 alone : none but himself can be his parallel ; and he 
 is the first in his line, although his line may not be 
 the first. He possessed the faculty of simplifying 
 and popularising reason and argument in a way 
 which must be pronounced inimitable, and during 
 forty years he uniformly exerted it for noble and 
 useful ends. He weeded out a mass of noxious 
 errors, and he placed a number of valuable truths 
 and principles in new and striking points of view, 
 thereby adding incalculably to their exchangeable 
 value and beneficial influence. The good he has 
 done in this way cannot be measured by wliat passes 
 current, or is ticketed, as his ; for so fertile was his 
 mind that thoughts and images fell from him and 
 were picked up and appropriated by others, like the 
 carelessly set jewels which dropped from Buckin<^- 
 ham's dress at the Court of Anne of Austria. Ifo 
 never came into society without naturally and easily 
 taking the lead as, beyond all question, the most
 
 58 THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH: 
 
 agreeable, sensible, and instructive guest and com- 
 panion that the oldest person living could remember. 
 These are his titles to the celebrity which still 
 attaches to his name, but unluckily they sound 
 transitory, perishable, and inappreciable when con- 
 trasted with the claims of the iirst-class humourists 
 to the undisturbed enjo3anent of their immortality. 
 Each of these has produced at least one standard 
 work, which will rank as an English classic so long 
 as the English language endures. Sydney Smith is 
 similarly situated in this respect to what Swift would 
 be if he had never written " The Tale of a Tub " 
 or " Gulliver's Travels." But if the Canon of St. 
 Paul's was inferior to the Dean of St. Patrick's as 
 a writer, he was superior as a moralist and a man. 
 The prime of his life was not wasted in the barren 
 and abortive struggles of faction. His temper 
 was not soured by disappointment, nor his heart 
 corroded by misanthropy. He was not like the 
 scathed elm which had begun to wither at the top. 
 His intellect retained to the last its original bright- 
 ness; and he died in the fulness of years, with 
 glowing affections and unimpaired faculties, sur- 
 rounded by all that should accompany old age, and 
 able to say with Addison to any sorrowing relative 
 who may have needed the lesson, " I have sent for 
 you that you may see how a Christian can die." 
 
 We may apply to him, with the alteration of a 
 word or two, what he said in his letter to Sir James 
 Mackintosh's son : — " The impression which the great 
 talents and amiable qualities of 30ur father made 
 upon me will remain as long as I remain. When I 
 turn from living spectacles of stupidity, ignorance, 
 and malice, and wish to think better of the world, I 
 remember my great and benevolent friend Mackin- 
 tosh." How often, in an analogous mood of mind, 
 have we not thus thought of him ! How ardently, 

 
 HIS LIFE, CHARACTER, AND WRITINGS. 59 
 
 when we see folly or bigotry reviving and putting 
 forth fresh oiFshoots, do we long for one of his racy 
 pamphlets or pithy letters ! Oh, for one hour of 
 Peter Plymley ! What a subject for his pen would 
 be the intolerance of the Sabbatarian party, the call 
 for new bishops as the one thing needful in India, 
 the cry for the simultaneous conversion and extermi- 
 nation of the Hindoo race, or the new-fangled com- 
 mercial system in which accommodation bills and 
 paper money were to perform all the functions of 
 capital. When we turn from such spectacles, and 
 wish to think better of the world, we remember our 
 great, wise, and benevolent friend, Sydney Smith.
 
 60 
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 (From the Edinburgu Review, July, 1856.) 
 
 Recollections of the Table Talk of Samuel Rogers; to 
 which is added Porsoniana. London: 1856. 
 
 For more than half a century a small house in a 
 quiet nook of London has been the recognised abode 
 of taste, and the envied resort of wit, beauty, learn- 
 ing, and genius. There, surrounded by the choicest 
 treasures of art, and in a light reflected from Guidos 
 and Titians, have sat and mingled in familiar con- 
 verse the most eminent poets, painters, actors, artists, 
 critics, travellers, historians, warriors, orators, and 
 statesmen of two generations. Under that roof 
 celebrities of all sorts, matured or budding, and 
 however contrasted in genius or pursuit, met as on 
 the table land where (according to D'Alembert) 
 Archimedes and Homer may stand on a perfect 
 footing of equality. The man of mind was intro- 
 duced to the man of action, and modest merit which 
 had yet its laurels to win, was first brought ac- 
 quainted with the patron Avho was to push its 
 fortunes, or with the hero whose name sounded like 
 a trumpet tone. It was in that dining-room that 
 Erskine told the story of his first brief, and Grattan 
 that of his last duel : that the " Iron Duke " described 
 AVaterloo as a " battle of giants : " that Chantrey, 
 placing his hand on a mahogany pedestal, said, " Mr. 
 Rogers, do you remember a workman at five shillings 
 a day who came in at that door to receive your orders 
 for this work? 1 was that workman." It was there, 
 too, that Byron's intimacy with Moore commenced 
 over the famous mess of potatoes and vinegar : that
 
 SAMUEL KOGERS. 61 
 
 Madame de Stael, after a triumphaiit argument with 
 Mackintosh, was (as recorded by Byron) " Avell 
 ironed " by Sheridan : that Sydney Smith, at dinner 
 with Walter Scott, Campbell, Moore, Wordsworth 
 and Washington Irving, declared that he and Irving, 
 if the only prose-writers, were not the only prosers in 
 the company. 
 
 It was through that window, opening to the floor 
 and leading through the garden to the Park, that the 
 host started with Sheridan's gifted grand-daughter 
 on " The Winter's Walk" which she has so gracefully 
 and feelingly commemorated. It was in the library 
 above, that Wordsworth, holding up the original con- 
 tract for the copyright of "Paradise Lost" (1600 
 copies for 5/.), proved to his own entire satisfaction 
 that solid fame was in an inverse ratio to popularity ; 
 whilst Coleridge, with his finger upon the parchment 
 deed by which Dryden agreed for the translation of 
 the ^neid, expatiated on the advantages which would 
 have accrued to literature, if " glorious John " had 
 selected the Iliad and left Virgil to Pope. Whilst 
 these and similar scenes are passing, we can fancy 
 the host murmuring his well-known lines : 
 
 " Be mine to listen ; pleased but not elate, 
 Ever too modest or too proud to rate 
 Myself by my companions, self-compell'd 
 To earn the station that in life I held." 
 
 This house, rich as it was in varied associations, was 
 only completed in 1801 or 1802 ; but the late owner's 
 intimacy with men and women of note goes back to 
 a long antecedent period. He had been, some years 
 before, proposed at Johnson's club — the club, as it 
 is denominated still — by Fox, seconded by Windham, 
 and (as he fully believed) black-balled by JMalone. 
 He had met Condorcet at Lafayette's table in 1789. 
 In the course of a single Sunday at Edinburgh in 
 the same eventful year, he had breakfasted with
 
 62 SAMUEL ROGERS. ' 
 
 Robertson, heard him preach in the forenoon and 
 Blair in the afternoon, drank tea with the Piozzis, 
 and supped with Adam Smith. 
 
 There is surely something more in this position, 
 than the extraordinary prolongation of human life, 
 or than its utility as a connecting link between two 
 or three generations, the point of view in which 
 hitherto it has been almost exclusively considered. 
 It leads naturally and necessarily to reflections on 
 the state of our society, especially in relation to the 
 literary, artistic, and intellectual elements, during the 
 last seventy years ; and we feel eager to profit by the 
 experience and sagacity of a nonogenarian who had 
 enjoyed such ample opportunities for appreciating 
 mankind. Fortunately Mr. Rogers's mental habits 
 and tendencies strongly disposed and qualified him 
 for turning his length of years to good account. His 
 writings teem with maxims of worldly wisdom, 
 enforced or illustrated by remarkable incidents, and 
 his conversation was replete Avith anecdotes selected 
 for the sake of the light they threw on manners, the 
 trains of thought they suggested, or the moral they 
 involved. AVhat has been printed of his " table talk " 
 is very far from being in keeping with his character, 
 or on a par with his fame. Indeed, those who form 
 their opinion from such records as the volume before 
 us may be excused for attributing the assiduous court 
 paid him to the caprice of fashion ; whilst others, with 
 better materials for judgment, will haply account for 
 the phenomenon by the felicitous combination of 
 long life, ample means, cultivated taste, refined hos- 
 pitality, and poetic celebrity in one man. Whichever 
 party, the detractors or the admirers, may turn out 
 right, the critical analysis of his life aiid writings 
 which must precede any honest attempt to adjudicate 
 upon his reputation, cannot fail to be highly in- 
 structive ; nor will it be found wantinir in the leadin<r
 
 ■ SAMUEL ROGERS. Go 
 
 attractions of literary biography. We, therefore, 
 propose to review the principal incidents and per- 
 formances of a life extending over ninety-two of 
 the most exciting and eventful years of the world's 
 history. 
 
 Samuel Rogers was born at Newington Green, on 
 the 30th July, 1763. He was one of a family of six 
 children, three sons and three daughters; he was the 
 third son. The father was an opulent banker, head 
 of the firm of Rogers, Olding, and Co., in Freeman's 
 Court, Cornhill. In 1811 the business was trans- 
 ferred to 29, Clement's Lane, Lombard Street, where 
 it is now carried on (1856), under the name of 
 Olding, Sharpe, and Co. Prior to his marriage, he 
 was a member of the Church of England ; but the 
 influence of his wife speedily eiFected his conversion 
 to her own creed, the Unitarian ; and by the time 
 Samuel was old enough to understand or be moved 
 by such things, the whole family were in regular 
 attendance on the ministry of the celebrated Dr. 
 Price, the adversary of Burke. The relative import- 
 ance of the principal dissenting bodies has undergone 
 so sensible a diminution of late years, that it may be 
 difficult for the present generation to form a just 
 estimate of the eminence and influence of the non- 
 conformist community in question. Yet its annals 
 are rich in literary illustration. The names of Defoe, 
 Dr. Watts, Dr. Price, Dr. Rees, Mrs. Barbauld, and 
 Dr. Aikin, with others by no means undistinguished, 
 are indelibly associated with the congregation of 
 Newington Green ; which still flourishes under the 
 ministry of the Rev. Dr. Cromwell (of the Protector's 
 family), and still comprises most of the primitive 
 and highly respectable connexions of the banker- 
 poet. He was undeniably indebted to his Dissenting 
 friends for his first introduction to celebrated people 
 in England, Scotland, and France ; nor was the tie
 
 64 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 which bound him to them altogether dissolved by his 
 excursions into the regions of orthodoxy and fashion. 
 He was a trustee of tlie Newington Presbyterian 
 Meeting House from 1790 to his death — a period of 
 sixty-five years; and when the Dissenters' Chapel 
 Bill was before Parliament, he signed a petition in 
 favour of it in that capacity. 
 
 According to his own account, Samuel Rogers had 
 every reason to congratulate himself on his parentage, 
 paternal and maternal. His mother, of whom he 
 uniformly spoke as an amiable and very handsome 
 woman, sedulously inculcated kindness and gentle- 
 ness ; whilst his father, who lived till 1793, gave 
 him a good education suited to his intended mode 
 of life, put him in the way of making a fortune, 
 and carefully refrained from thwarting him in his 
 inclinations or pursuits, although these must fre- 
 quently have jarred against the nonconformist citi- 
 zen's notion of the fitness of thino-s. On seeino^ his 
 son taking to poetry and fine company, the old man 
 must have felt like the hen who sees the duckling, 
 which she has hatched as a bird of her own feather, 
 suddenly taking to water ; and in his heart he pro- 
 bably agreed with Lord Ellenborough, who on hear- 
 ing that a new poem (" The Pleasures of Memory") 
 had just been published by a young banker, exclaimed 
 " If old Gozzy " — alluding to the head of the firm 
 with which he banked — "ever so much as says a 
 good thing, — let alone writing, — I will close my ac- 
 count with him the next mornino;." 
 
 In early boyhood, the future poet's impulse was to 
 start off the course in a diametrically opposite direc- 
 tion. AVhen he and his brothers were called in and 
 asked by the father what professions they wished to 
 follow, Samuel avowed his predilection for that of a 
 preacher ; a choice which he explained by his admi- 
 ration for Dr. Price. " He was our neighbour of
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 65 
 
 Newington Green, and would often drop in to spend 
 the evening with us, in his dressing-gown : he would 
 talk and read the Bible to us till he sent us to bed 
 in a frame of mind as heavenly as his own. He 
 lived much in the society of Lord Lansdowne and 
 other people of rank, and his manners were extremely 
 polished." If the child be father to the man, we 
 must be pardoned for suspecting that the mundane 
 advantages of the divine had at least as much to do 
 Avith the influence which he exercised over his young 
 admirer, as the truths divine that came mended from 
 his tongue. 
 
 The chief part, if not the whole, of Rogers's formal 
 and regular education was received at a Dissenting 
 school at Plackney, where he learnt Latin enough to 
 enable him to read the easier Latin classics with faci- 
 lity. By the time he quitted it, he had got rid of his 
 pulpit aspirations, and he is not recorded to have mani- 
 fested any marked reluctance to his destination when 
 he was placed in the paternal counting-house, with the 
 view of being in due course admitted a member of 
 the firm. He began the serious business of life with 
 the good sense and prudence which never left him; 
 although he was constantly exposed to temptations to 
 which most men of poetical or susceptible tempera- 
 ment would have succumbed. When his solid com- 
 forts and his well understood interests were involved, 
 the Dalilahs of fame and fashion, of vanity and sensi- 
 bility, exhausted their arts on him in vain. He kept 
 his gaze steadily fixed on the main chance. Even 
 when he set up as a poet, he could honestly say, " I 
 left no calling for this idle trade — no duty broke; " 
 and he continued laying the foundations of his ideal 
 edifice of social enjoyment and prosj^erity, Avitli a 
 patience and precision wortliy of the most painstaking 
 and methodical of economists and calculators. 
 
 It was his favourite speculation, that the greatest 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 GO SAMUEL KOGERS. 
 
 command of worldly liappiness was attainable by one 
 who, beginning low on the social ladder, should mount 
 gradually and regularly to the top. It has been in- 
 vidiously objected that this sounds very like the career 
 of a successful tuft-hunter. But Rogers insisted 
 that every step in the ascent should be won ho- 
 nourably, and that the sustained gratification was to 
 arise from recognised merit, and would be poisoned 
 by the smallest admixture of conscious unworthiness. 
 Fortunately, he has himself explained and amplified 
 his theory, in one of the most striking passages of his 
 " Italy " : — 
 
 " All, wherever in the scale, * 
 
 Have — be they high or low, or rich or poor, 
 Inherit they a sheep-hook or a sceptre — 
 Much to be grateful for ; but most has he, 
 Born in that middle sphere, that temperate zone. 
 Where Knowledge lights his lamp. . . . 
 What men most covet, — wealth, distinction, power, 
 Are baubles nothing worth, that only serve 
 To rouse us up, as children in the schools 
 Are roused up to exertion. The reward 
 Is in the race we run, not in the prize ; 
 And they, the few, that have it ere they earn it, 
 Having, by favour or inheritance. 
 These dangerous gifts placed in their idle hands. 
 And all that should await on worth well-tried. 
 All in the glorious days of old reserved 
 For manhood most mature or reverend age, 
 Know not, nor ever can, the generous pride 
 That glows in him who on himself I'elies, 
 Entering the lists of life." 
 
 Thirsting for distinction, he hurried into the hsts 
 without adequate preparation, and with ill-fitting and 
 borrowed arms. Most young aspirants to distinction 
 instinctively copy the model that caprice or accident 
 has made popular ; and indiscriminately adopt, to the 
 best of their ability, the vice or virtue, the folly or 
 wisdom, the style of dress or the style of writing, 
 that is in vogue. When Rogers started as an author, 
 he was not exempt from this almost universal weak-
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 67 
 
 ness ; and to explain his poetical development, we 
 must cast a retrospective glance over the poetical pro- 
 ductions and literary tendencies of the generation in 
 which he was trained up. 
 
 The period in question was the Augustan age of 
 historians and novelists ; for within it flourished, in 
 fulness of reputation, Hume, Robertson, Gibbon, 
 Fielding, Smollett, Richardson, and Goldsmith. The 
 rich mine opened by the essayists, beginning with the 
 " Tatler " and the " Spectator," had been worked out, 
 and was virtually abandoned after the termination of 
 the "Idler" in 1757; whilst a cold shade was flung 
 over poetry by the name and memory of Pope. No 
 school has practically proved more depressing to ori- 
 ginality than his, — despite (perhaps by reason) of 
 his own exquisite fancy, and notwithstanding the en- 
 couragement to erratic courses held out in the familiar 
 couplet — 
 
 " From vulgar bounds with brave disorder part. 
 And snatch a grace beyond the reach of art." 
 
 Nor have many schools retained their influence 
 longer ; for Crabbe was wittily described as " Pope 
 in worsted stockings ; " and the spell was not com- 
 pletely broken until the 19th century, Avhen Sir 
 Walter Scott inspired the taste for metrical tales of 
 passion and adventure.* Collins and Gray, embold- 
 ened by " Alexander's Feast " and the " Ode on St. 
 Cecilia's Day," produced some fine lyrical pieces, as 
 the "Ode to the Passions " and " The Bard ; " but for 
 more than fifty years after the death of the bard of 
 Twickenham, English poetry ran almost exclusively 
 in the didactic, descriptive, or elegiac line, with an 
 occasional digression into satire. Rogers's avowed 
 
 * CoJeridge's admirers were wont to maintain that Scott owed more 
 than he cared to own to " Christahel ;" but, by a parity of reasoning, Cole- 
 ridge maybe accused of owing more than lie oared to own to '^ Faust."'
 
 G8 
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 favourites were Gray and Goldsmith ; and his pre- 
 ference has been justified by posterity. " I used," he 
 said, " to take a pocket edition of Gray's Poems with 
 me every morning during my walks to my father's 
 banking-house, where I was a clerk, and read them by 
 the way. I can repeat them all." On another occa- 
 sion he exclaimed, " What pleasure I felt on being 
 told that Este (Parson Este) had said of me, ' A 
 child of Goldsmith, sir.'" This must have been 
 after the publication of the " Pleasures of Memory : " 
 for Rogers, having first tried his strength in prose, 
 began his poetical career by -taking for his prototype 
 the one (Gray) of his two favourites whose genius 
 was least in harmony with his own, and by imbuing 
 himself with the spirit of what must have been to him 
 the least congenial of that one's productions. 
 
 The to all agreeable, to many intoxicating, sensa- 
 tion of first seeing oneself in print, was experienced 
 by Rogers in 1781, when he contributed eight 
 essays, under the title of The Scribbler, to " The 
 Gentleman's Magazine," — the same which, under the 
 editorship of Sylvanus Urban (Cave) had been the 
 repository of the earliest efforts of Johnson in the 
 same walk. " He told me," says Boswell, " that 
 when he first saw St. John's Gate, the place where 
 that deservedly popular miscellany was originally 
 printed, he beheld it with reverence." Probably it 
 was Johnsonian influence that gave their peculiar 
 form to Rogers's first attempts at authorship ; for the 
 great lexicographer was amongst the idols of big 
 youth. "My friend Maltby and I," he used to 
 relate, " had a strong desire to see Dr. Johnson ; and 
 we determined to call upon him and introduce 
 ourselves. We accordingly proceeded to his house in 
 Bolt Court; and 1 had my hand on the knocker, 
 when our courage failed us, and we retreated. Many 
 years afterwards I mentioned this circumstance to
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 69 
 
 -Boswell, wlio said, ' What a pity you did not go 
 boldly in ! he would have received you with all 
 kindness.' " 
 
 Rogers commonly followed up this anecdote with 
 another of the advice he gave, instead of a letter of 
 introduction, to a young friend who was going to 
 Birmingham, and had a similar desire to see Dr. 
 Parr. The advice was to be collected from the 
 result. " Well, what did you do ? " was my first 
 question to the traveller on his return. " Exactly 
 as you told me. I knocked boldly at the door, and 
 asked for Dr. Parr. I was shown into a parlour on 
 the ground floor by a servant-maid. When the 
 Doctor appeared, I looked steadily at him for a 
 moment, and then said, ' Dr. Parr, I have taken an 
 inexcusable liberty, and I cannot complain if you 
 order me to be kicked out of your house. On seeing 
 your name upon the door, I could not make up my 
 mind to pass the house of the greatest man in 
 Europe without seeing him. I knocked, was ad- 
 mitted, and here I am ! ' The Doctor seized me 
 by both hands in a kind of transport of welcome, 
 fairly danced me up and down the room, and ended 
 by keeping me to dinner on a roast shoulder of 
 mutton." 
 
 Roerers's admiration of Johnson never extended to 
 his style, and the most remarkable features of " The 
 Scribbler " are the correctness and ease of the lan- 
 guage. All the essays are commonplace enough in 
 point of thought and conception, nor would it be" 
 difficult to specify the very " llamblei's " or " Idlers " 
 which the writer had in his mind's eye whilst com- 
 posing them ; but the one on " Fashion " is written 
 with a freedom and rliythmical flow which are rarely 
 found in essayists of eighteen : — 
 
 " \Vhethcr she (Fashion) licightened with :i pencil the 
 vermilion of her check, or clotlied her limbs with a tight or 
 
 F 3
 
 70 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 flowing vest ; whether she collected her ringlets in a knot, 
 or suffered them to hang negligently on her shoulders ; 
 whether she shook the dice, waked the lyre, or filled the 
 sparkling glass, — she was imitated by her votaries, who vied 
 with each other in obsequiousness and reverence. All in- 
 sisted on presenting their offerings ; either their health, their 
 fortunes, or their integrity. Though numbers incessantly 
 disappeared, the assembly, receiving continual supplies, pre- 
 served its grandeur and its brilliancy. At the entrance I 
 observed Vanity, Rintastically crowned Avith flowers and 
 feathers, to whom the fickle deity committed the initiation 
 of her votaries. These having fluttered as gaily as their 
 predecessors, in a few moments vanished, and were succeeded 
 by others. All who rejected the solicitations of Vanity, were 
 compelled to enter by Ridicule, whose shafts were univer- 
 sally dreaded. Even Literature, Science, and Philosophy 
 were obliged to comply. Those only escaped who were 
 concealed beneath the veil of Obscurity. As 1 gazed on 
 this glittering scene, having declined the invitation of Vanity, 
 Ridicule shot an arrow from her bow, which pierced my 
 heart : I fainted, and in the violence of my agitation 
 awaked." 
 
 To judge from the small type in which they were 
 printed, and the places assigned to them in the 
 columns of Mr. Sylvanus Urban, that practised 
 judge of literary merit attached no great value to the 
 lucubrations of " The Scribbler," and they were dis- 
 continued after September 1781. The author of the 
 " Table Talk " states that he was present when Mr. 
 Rogers tore to pieces, and threw into the fire, a 
 manuscript operatic drama, the " Vintage of Bur- 
 gundy," which he had written early in life. " He 
 told me he offered it to a manager, who said, ' I will 
 bring it on the stage if you are determined to have 
 it acted, but it will certainly be damned.' " Unless 
 this drama was composed wholly or in part between 
 1781 and 1786, we must conclude that this interval 
 Avas employed in preparing for his first public ap- 
 pearance as a poet, which was not unlikely, considering
 
 SAMUEL ROGEES. 71 
 
 the amount of labour that he was wont to devote to 
 his compositions. The " Ode to Superstition, with 
 some other Poems," was published in 1786. It was 
 an eighteenpenny quarto of twenty-six pages, after 
 the fashion of the times, when the eye was relieved 
 by " rivulets of text running through meadows of 
 margin." He is reported as saying : " I wrote it 
 whilst in my teens, and afterwards touched it up. I 
 paid down to the publisher 30^. to insure him from 
 being a loser by it. At the end of four years, I 
 found that he had sold about twenty copies. 
 However, I was consoled by reading in a critique on 
 the ' Ode ' that I was ' an able writer ' or some such 
 expression." 
 
 Whoever lived much with him will remember that 
 any reference to the " Ode " was the inevitable pre- 
 lude to the production of the volume containing the 
 critique, — the " Monthly Review," December 1786. 
 It began thus : — " In these pieces we perceive the 
 hand of an able master. The ' Ode to Superstition ' is 
 written with uncommon boldness of language and 
 strength of diction. The author has collected some 
 of the most striking historical facts, to illustrate the 
 tyranny of the demon he addresses, and has exhibited 
 them with the fire and energy proper to lyric poetry. 
 The following stanzas are particularly excellent." 
 The reviewer then quotes, without remarking the re- 
 semblance, the very stanzas or strophes which are most 
 palpably imitated from Gray's " Bard." "Alexander's 
 Feast " was also copied in parts, and the result recalls 
 the fable of the ambitious frog, or reminds us of " all 
 the contortions of the Sibyl without one particle of 
 her inspiration," Almost the only lines which do 
 not creak, groan and tremble with the strain, or 
 Avhich bear token of his subsequently matured pre- 
 ference for simple uninverted language, are the fol- 
 lowing : — 
 
 F 4
 
 72 
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 " Hark ! who mounts the sacred pyre, 
 Blooming in her bridal vest ? 
 She hurls the torch ! she fans the fire ! 
 To die is to be blest. 
 She clasps her lord to part no more, 
 And sijihin?, sinks ! but sinks to soar." 
 
 " Thou spak'st, and lo ! a new creation glowed. 
 Each unhewn mass of living stone 
 Was clad in horrors, not its own. 
 And at its base the trembling nations bowed. 
 Giant Error, darkly grand, 
 Grasped the globe with iron hand." 
 
 The wonder is, that whilst imitating Gray, Rogers 
 was not irresistibly and exclusively attracted by 
 the " Elegy." One would have thought that he, of 
 all others, would have been fascinated by the ex- 
 quisite finish and sober grace of that incomparable 
 performance. But it was easier to mimic the clamour 
 and clatter of the dithyrambic ode than to catch the 
 pathos and simplicity of the " Elegy " or the " Ode to 
 Eton College." 
 
 Mr. Rogers's compositions down to this time, both 
 in verse and prose, leave the impression that he was 
 extremely anxious to write without having anything 
 to write about. He had sharpened and polished his 
 tools, and had acquired no slight dexterity in the use 
 of them, but materials were altogether wanting. He 
 had laid up no stock of thought, sentiment, or obser- 
 vation worthy of being worked up or moulded into 
 form ; and his attempts to compensate for this de- 
 ficiency by artificial fire, borrowed movements, and 
 forced enthusiasm, proved about as successful as those 
 of the German baron who jumped over the chairs and 
 tables to acquire vivacity. Rogers, however, was not 
 to be dispirited by failure. He at length hit upon 
 the right vein, and from the moment he discovered 
 tliat he was destined to excel by grace, elegance, sub- 
 dued sentiment, and chastened fancy — not by fervid
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. , 7 
 
 Q 
 
 passion, lofty imagination, or deep feeling, — his poetic 
 fortune was made. 
 
 During the six years that elapsed before he again 
 ventured into print, he visited Paris and Edinburgh, 
 conversed with many who were acting as well as with 
 some who were writing history, and indefinitely ex- 
 tended his knowledge of books, of external nature, 
 of social systems, and of mankind. The firstfruits 
 were the " Pleasures of Memory," published with the 
 name of the author in 1792. 
 
 The epoch was fortunately hit upon or judiciously 
 chosen. The old school was wearing out, and the 
 new had not commenced. The poem struck into the 
 happy medium between the precise and conventional 
 style, and the free and natural one. The only com- 
 petitor formidable from newly acquired popularity, 
 was Cowper. Crabbe's fame was then limited : Dar- 
 win never had much : and Burns, incomparably the 
 greatest poetic genius of his generation (1759-1796), 
 was not appreciated in England in his lifetime, or 
 something better than an exciseman's place Avould 
 have been bestowed upon him. We are therefore not 
 surprised at the immediate success of Rogers's second 
 and better calculated experiment on the public taste. 
 Yet with undeniable merits of a high order, it had 
 little of the genuine inspiration of original genius. 
 The strongest proof of its deficiency in this resj:)ect is 
 that, although it has long taken its place as an English 
 classic, none of its mellifluous verses or polished 
 images are freshly remembered, like " The coming 
 events cast their shadows before," of Campbell ; or 
 the " Oh, woman, in our hours of ease," of Scott ; or 
 the " Oh, ever thus from childhood's hour," of Moore ; 
 or the " He who hath bent him o'er the dead," of 
 Byron ; or the " Creature not too bright or good," of 
 Wordsworth. Any zealous admirer of these writers 
 will be ready at any moment to justify his or her ad-
 
 74 
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 miration, by quoting passage after passage. Where 
 is the zealous admirer of Kogers's poetry, Avho feels 
 qualified, without adequate preparation, to recite six 
 consecutive lines from the " Pleasures of ]Me- 
 mory ?" 
 
 The commencement, and indeed almost everythino- 
 rural or pastoral in the poem, is too redolent of Gold- 
 smith; and in minute description, Eogers provokes 
 compromising comparisons with Crabbe ; but he has 
 never been excelled in the art of blending fimcy and 
 feeling with historic incident and philosophical reflec- 
 tion, as in the passage beginning — 
 
 " So Scotia's Queen, as slowly dawned the day, 
 Rose on her couch, and gazed her soul away. 
 
 * • • • • 
 
 Thus kindred objects kindred thoughts inspire, 
 As summer clouds flash forth electric fire. 
 And hence this spot gives back the joys of youth, 
 Warm as the life, and with the mirror's truth. 
 Hence homefelt pleasure prompts the Patriot's sigh, 
 This makes him wish to live and dare to die. 
 
 • 
 And hence the charm historic scenes impart ; 
 Hence Tiber awes, and Avon melts the heart; 
 Aerial forms, in Tempe's classic vale. 
 Glance through the gloom, and whisper in the gale, 
 In wild Vaucluse with love and Laura dwell, 
 And watch and weep in Eloisa's cell." 
 
 Elegance of expression and truth of description 
 cannot be more happily united, than in the lines on 
 the bee ; — 
 
 " Hark ! the bee winds her small but mellow horn. 
 Blithe to salute the sunny smile of morn. 
 O'er thymy downs she bends her busy course. 
 And many a stream allures her to its source. 
 'Tis noon, 'tis night. That eye so finely wrought, 
 Beyond the search of sense, the soar of thought. 
 Now vainly asks the scenes she left behind:" 
 Its orb so full, its visions so confined ! 
 Who guides the patient pilgrim to her cell ? 
 Who bids her soul with conscious triumph swell ?
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 75 
 
 With conscious truth, retrace the mazy clue 
 Of summer-scents, that charmed her as she flew? 
 Hail, Memory, hail ! thy universal reign 
 Guards the least link of Being's glorious chain." 
 
 The fondness for alliteration displayed in this poem 
 attracted the attention of the critics ; and Rogers used 
 to say that a proposed emendation in the second of 
 the following lines, which form the commencement of 
 the second part, was the best suggestion he ever re- 
 ceived from a reviewer — 
 
 " Sweet Memory, wafted by thy gentle gale, 
 Oft up the tide of Time I turn my sail." 
 
 The critic's suggestion was that, to complete the alli- 
 teration^ the line should stand thus — 
 
 " Oft up the tide of Time I turn my tail." 
 
 The " Pleasures of Memory " ends thus : — 
 
 " Hail, Memory, hail ! in thy exhaustless mine 
 From age to age unnumbered treasures shine : 
 Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, 
 And Place and Time are subject to thy sway ; 
 Thy pleasures most we feel, when most alone, 
 The only pleasures we can call our own. 
 Lighter than air, Hope's summer visions die. 
 If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky ; 
 If but a beam of sober reason play, 
 Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away ! 
 But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power, 
 Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour ? 
 These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, 
 Pour round her path a stream of living liglit; 
 And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest. 
 Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest." 
 
 These are the lines which Mackintosh, thereby 
 giving the measure of his own poetic feeling, used to 
 say were equal to the closing lines of the " Dunciad." 
 This was like saying that Virgil's apostrophe to Mar- 
 cellus is equal to Homer's Battle of the Gods, the style 
 being essentially distinct ; and the real question being,
 
 76 
 
 SAJIUEL ROGERS. 
 
 whether any given degree of grace or sentiment can 
 be placed on a level with the corresponding degree of 
 grandeur or sublimity. We are by no means sure 
 that, if it were necessary to challenge a comparison 
 with Pope, we should not rather rely on one of the 
 passages in which Rogers, by dint of finely- shaded 
 language and felicitous illustration, invests the de- 
 scription of a familiar phenomenon in natural or 
 mental philosophy with the most seductive charms of 
 sensibility and poetry. For example — 
 
 " Ah ! who can tell the triumphs of the mind, 
 By truth illumined, and by taste refined ? 
 When age has quenched the eye, and closed the ear, 
 Still nerved for action in her native sphere, 
 Oft will she rise — with searching glance pursue 
 Some long-loved image vanished from her view ; 
 Dart thro' the deep recesses of the past, 
 O'er dusky forms in chains of slumber cast ; 
 With giant grasp fling back the folds of night, 
 And snatch the faithless fugitive to light. 
 So thro' the grove the impatient mother flies. 
 Each sunless glade, each secret pathway tries ; 
 Till the thin leaves the truant boy disclose. 
 Long on the wood-moss stretched in sweet repose." 
 
 Why verses like these should have failed to lay 
 fast and durable hold on the public mind, is a problem 
 well worthy of critical examination. The most 
 plausible solution is suggested by their want o fim- 
 plicity and spontaneity. Their linked sweetness is 
 too long and elaborately drawn out ; and the very 
 symmetry and artistic finish of a production may 
 militate against its general popularity. When Camp- 
 bell complained to James Smith of not having been 
 included in the " Rejected Addresses," he was politely 
 assured that to parody his poetry was as impossible 
 as to caricature his handsome and regular features. 
 " I should like to be amongst them for all that," was 
 his remark ; and he was partly right; for what cannot 
 be parodied will not be so often quoted, nor so freshly
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 77 
 
 remembered. In the preface to the annotated edition 
 of the " Rejected Addresses," Rogers and Campbell 
 are placed on the same footing, and their common 
 exclusion is justified on the same complimentary 
 principle. " The Pleasures of Memory," however, 
 rendered invaluable service by its purity of language 
 and chasteness of tone, which immediately became 
 the objects of improving imitation and elevating 
 rivalry. To it, also, must be assigned the honour of 
 having suggested " The Pleasures of Hope ; " and 
 more than one of the detached thouo;hts and imao^es 
 has obtained popularity and circulation in disguise. 
 As Sir Walter Scott had confessedly never seen 
 Melrose by moonlight when he wrote the famous 
 passage beginning — 
 
 " If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, 
 Go visit it by the pale moonlight — 
 For the gay beams of lightsome diiy 
 Gild but to flout the ruins gray " — 
 
 we may fairly suppose that he borrowed a hint from 
 Rogers's — 
 
 " As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower 
 Awes us less deeply in its morning hour, 
 Than when the shades of Time serenely fall 
 On every broken arch and ivied wall" — 
 
 lines which suofgest the mellowino^ effect of a^je as 
 well as that of evening. 
 
 Nearly six years were to elapse before Rogers 
 had hived up enough for another publication. His 
 " Epistle to a Friend, with other Poems," appeared 
 in 1798. The "Epistle" is a vehicle for conveying, 
 after the manner of Horace and (in parts) of Pope, 
 the writer's notions of social comfort and happi- 
 ness, as influenced by residence, furniture, books, 
 pictures, and companions, — subjects on all of which 
 he was admirably qualified to speak. His precepts
 
 78 
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 are delivered in a series of graceful couplets, and 
 enforced by authorities collected in the notes. Of 
 course, he is all for moderation, simplicity, and 
 retirement, — what poet or poetaster is not? — with 
 about the same amount of practical earnestness as 
 Grattan, when he declared he could be content in 
 a small neat house, with cold meat, bread, and beer, 
 and plenty of claret ; or as a couple from May Fair, 
 who, when they talk of love in a cottage, are dream- 
 ing of a cottage like the dairy-house at Taymouth 
 "^or Cashiobury. All Rogers wanted, was to be able 
 to enjoy every pleasure or luxury he really cared 
 about ; and as he did not care about a numerous 
 establishment or a large house, the model villa to 
 which he invites his friend is of restricted di- 
 mensions — 
 
 "Here no state chambers in long line unfold, 
 Bright with broad mirrors, rough with fretted gold : 
 Yet modest ornament with use combined, 
 Attracts the eye to exercise the mind. 
 Small change of scene , small space his home requires, 
 Who leads a life of satisfied desires." 
 
 This strikes us to be what Partridge would call a 
 no7i sequitur. . Like the Presbyterian divine who, 
 after praying that all the lady of the manor's desires 
 might be gratified, judiciously added, " provided 
 they be virtuous," — Rogers, after laying down that 
 a life of satisfied desires implied a contracted sphere 
 of action, should have added " provided they be 
 limited." The spendthrift who complained there 
 was no living in England like a gentleman under 
 forty thousand a year, would not have led a life of 
 satisfied desires, with small change of scene, or small 
 space to disport in. 
 
 Nothing in their way can be better than the four- 
 teen lines in which the poet inculcates the wise
 
 "*« 
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 79 
 
 doctrine, that engravings and copies from the best 
 pictures and statues are far preferable to mediocre 
 or second-rate originals. 
 
 " What tlio' no marble breathes, no canvas glows, 
 From every point a ray of genius flows. 
 Be mine to bless the mere mechanic skill 
 That stamps, renews, and multiplies at will, 
 And cheaply circulates thro' distant climes 
 The fairest relics of the purest times. 
 Here from the mould to conscious being start 
 These finer forms, the miracles of art ; 
 Here chosen gems, imprest on sulphur, shine 
 That slept for ages in a second mine ; 
 And here the faithful graver dares to trace 
 A Michael's grandeur and a Raphael's grace ! 
 Thy gallery, Florence, gilds my humble walls, 
 And my low roof the Vatican recalls." 
 
 The ornaments of the bath are also happily touched 
 off : — 
 
 " The shadowy walls record with Attic art. 
 The strength and beauty which its waves impart ; 
 Here Thetis bending with a mother's fears 
 Dips her dear boy, whose pride restrains his tears ; 
 There Venus, rising, shrinks with sweet surprise 
 As her fair self reflected seems to rise." 
 
 The " Description of Winter " is marked by the same 
 delicate fancy which is displayed in the " Kape of 
 the Lock " on a different class of phenomena : — 
 
 " When Christmas revels in a world of snow, 
 And bids her berries blush, her carols flow : 
 His spangling shower when Frost the wizard flings. 
 Or, borne in ether blue, on viewless wings. 
 O'er the white pane his silvery foliage weaves. 
 And gems with icicles the sheltering eaves, — 
 Thy muflled friend his nectarine wall pursues " — • 
 
 There is no disputing the eye for nature which 
 "fixed and carried off the image of the silvery foliage 
 woven on the white pane. At one of his Simday 
 breakfasts, he had quoted with decided commendation
 
 80 
 
 SAMUEL llOGERS. 
 
 Leigh Hunt's couplet on a fountain (in "Rimini"), 
 also selected by Byron as one of the most poetical 
 descriptions of a natural object he was acquainted 
 with : — 
 
 " Clear and compact, till at its height o'errun, 
 It shakes its loos'ning silver in the sun." 
 
 " I give my vote," said one of the guests, for 
 
 " ' O'er the white pane his silvery foliage weaves.' " 
 
 Rogers looked for a moment as if he were about to 
 re-enact Parr's reception of the flattering visitor at 
 Birmingham. 
 
 Fourteen years elapsed between the publication of 
 the " Epistle to a Friend," and " Columbus," which 
 formed part of a new edition of his poems in 1812, 
 and was followed by "Jacqueline" in 1814. We 
 look upon both these productions as mistakes, es- 
 pecially the first, which is a fragmentary epic, and 
 deals Avith topics requiring the highest order of 
 imagination to invest them with fitting grandeur and 
 interest. When chasms are left in the narrative, 
 and an author only professes to open glimpses into 
 the past or the future, he can claim no allowance 
 for Homeric slumbers, — for tameness of diction or 
 extravagance of invention. Each detached scene or 
 picture should be complete in its way, for the very 
 reason that it is detached. Rogers has done little 
 more than versify, with less than his usual attention 
 to metre and rhythm, the well-known events in the 
 lives and adventures of Columl)ns and his com- 
 panions, interspersed with imitations of Dante, Virgil, 
 and Euripides. His machinery is an unhappy medium 
 between Pope's and Milton's ; and when he made 
 an American deity, or angel of darkness, hight 
 Merion, rise " in pomp of plumage," in the shape of a 
 condor, to descend and " couch on Roldan's ample
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 81 
 
 breast " in the shape of a vampire, he delivered 
 himself, bound hand and foot, into the hands of the 
 scorner. How he could have read over the followinrr 
 passage of "The Argument," without becoming aware 
 of his danger, must be a mystery to those who are 
 not familiar with the weaknesses of authors wheii 
 their offspring is concerned : — 
 
 " Alarm and despondence on board. He (Cohimbus) re- 
 signs himself to the care of Heaven, and proceeds on his 
 voyage. Meanwhile the deities of America assemble in 
 council, and one of the Genii, the gods of the islanders, an- 
 nounces his approach. ' In vain,' says he, ' have we guarded 
 the Atlantic for ages. A mortal has baffled our power ; nor 
 will our votaries arm against him. Yours are a sterner race. 
 Hence, and while we have recourse to stratagem, do you 
 array the nations round your altars, and prepare for an exter- 
 minating war.' They disperse while he is ijet speaking, and in 
 the shape of a Condor, he directs his flight to the fleet. His 
 journey described. He arrives there." 
 
 We wish we could add that the conception is re- 
 deemed by the execution ; but the perusal of the 
 poem is rendered positively disagreeable by the breaks 
 and the constant straining after effect. The most 
 successful contrivance is the use made of the trade- 
 winds ; the water-spouts of the New World, also, are 
 felicitously introduced : — 
 
 " And see the heavens bow down, tlie waters rise, 
 And, rising, shoot in columns to the skies, 
 That stand, and still when they proceed, retire, — 
 As in the Det<ert burned the sacred fire. 
 Moving in silent majesty, — till Night 
 Descends and shuts the vision from their sijrht." 
 
 The scorner speedily came forth in the guise of a 
 candid friend. The late Lord Dudley (then Mr. 
 Ward) reviewed " Columbus " in the " Quarterly 
 Review " in a tone of calculated depreciation, made 
 more incisive by the affectation of respect. The poet's 
 feelings may be fiincied when he read tlie polished 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 quiz Upon his deities and his condor, and was asked, 
 " what but extreme haste and carelessness could have 
 occasioned the author of the ' Pleasures of Memory ' 
 to mistake for verse such a line as — 
 
 " ' There silent sate many an unbidden guest,' " 
 
 This line will not be found in the later editions, but 
 the two following are in the last — 
 
 "And midway on their passage to eternity." (Canto 1.) 
 
 " That world a prison-house, full of sights of woe." (Canto 12.) 
 
 Nor would Rogers have shown much indulgence 
 for couplets like these by another : — 
 
 " Right through the midst, when fetlock deep in gore. 
 The great Gonzalvo battled with the Moor." 
 .*■*..• 
 
 " He said, he drew : then at his master's frown, 
 Sullenly sheath'd, plunging the weapon down." 
 
 The first might lead a superficial or ill-informed 
 reader to suppose that the great Gonzalvo was a Cen- 
 taur ; and the second is much like saying — 
 
 " Swallowed the loaf, gulping each morsel down." 
 
 Ward had greatly aggravated his offence by com- 
 municating with his intended victim on the subject of 
 the criticism during its composition ; and he well 
 merited the characteristic retaliation which it pro- 
 voked — 
 
 " Ward has no heart, they say ; but I deny it. 
 He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it." 
 
 According to the author of the " Table Talk," 
 Rogers confessed to have written this epigram, with 
 a little assistance from Richard Sharp. One day, he 
 adds, while Rogers was on bad terms with Ward, 
 Lady D. said to him, " Have you seen Ward lately?" 
 ''What AYard?" "Why, our Ward, of course." 
 " Our Ward ! — you may keep him all to yourself."
 
 SAMUEL EOGERS. 83 
 
 Ward was not a man to be behindhand in this kind 
 of contest ; and his adversary's cadaverous complexion 
 afforded as ample material for jocularity as his own 
 alleged want of heart. Indeed, Jack Bannister main- 
 tained that more good things had been said and 
 written on Roger's face than on that of the greatest 
 beauty. It was Ward who asked him why, now that 
 he could afford it, he did not set up his hearse ; and 
 it was the same sympathising companion who, when 
 Rogers repeated the couplet, — 
 
 " The robin, -with his furtive glance, 
 Comes and looks at me askance," 
 
 struck in with, " If it had been a carrion crow, he 
 would have looked you full in the face." 
 
 Mackintosh made a gallant effort (" Edinburgh 
 Review," No. 43) to neutralise the corrosive sublimate 
 of Ward's article ; but impartial opinion concurred 
 in the main with the less favourable judgment, and 
 even the Vision (Canto 12), which both agreed in 
 praising, .is not free from the prevalent faults of the 
 poem, — obvious effort, abruptness, and obscurity. 
 
 Matters were not much improved by the publi- 
 cation, two years later (1814), of "Jacqueline" in 
 the same volume with " Lara," which suggested the 
 notion of an innocent maiden choosing a high-bred 
 rake for her travelling companion. If she preserved 
 her virtue, she was tolerably sure to lose her reputa- 
 tion; and 
 
 " Pretty Miss Jacqueline, 
 With her nose aquiline," 
 
 afforded fine sport to the wits, and to her noble yoke- 
 fellow among the rest. The " Corsair " had already 
 got his Kaled, a young lady who did not stand upon 
 trifles and wore small-clothes. How, in a corrupt 
 age, could Jacqueline hope to obtain a preference by 
 dint of the gentle virtues, even though 
 
 o 2
 
 84 
 
 SAMUEL ItOGEHS. 
 
 "Her voice, wliate'cr she said, enchanted: 
 Like music, to the heart it went. 
 And her dark eyes, — how eloquent! 
 Ask what they would, 'twas granted." 
 
 Some years since a story got about touching an 
 application from an American lady of distinction for 
 a ball-ticket for a female friend. The request was 
 politely declined, and the applicant wrote to express 
 her surprise at the slight put upon a young lady, 
 "who, in her own country, was more in the habit of 
 granting favours than of asking them." " She must 
 be like my Jacqueline," said Rogers, when he heard 
 the story ; " for Byron would always have it that the 
 line — 
 
 " ' Ask what they would, 'twas granted,' 
 
 did not necessarily refer to her eyes." 
 
 We had some hopes of Jacqueline, when she left 
 her paternal abode at midnight " a guilty thing and 
 full of fears," or she might have made a sensation 
 by getting drowned, like Lord Ullin's daughter, when 
 
 " One lovely arm was stretched for aid, 
 And one was round her lover." 
 
 But when, after so much preliminary weeping and 
 melancholy, it turns out that lier departure was j)Our 
 le bon motiJ\ and that D'Arcay's intentions were all 
 along honourable: when she enters safe and sound 
 in person and reputation, hanging on the arm of a 
 young husband, to ask and obtain an aged father's 
 blessing, readers, with palates vitiated by more 
 stimulating food, might be excused for exclaiming 
 like Sheridan Avhen the servant threw down the 
 platewarmer Avithout breaking the plates : " Why, 
 
 it, sir, have you made all that noise for nothing? " 
 
 Ivogers was very angry at the brief notice taken 
 of this poem in j\Ir. George Ellis's review of the 
 "Corsair" and "Lara" in the " Quarterly Review,"
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 85 
 
 as "the highly refined, but somewliat insipid, pastoral 
 tale of ' Jacqueline.' " Lady Byron is reported to 
 liave told Rogers in 1851, at Brighton, that her Hege 
 lord, on reading Ellis's article, had said, " The man's 
 a fool. ' Jacqueline ' is as superior to ' Lara,' as 
 Rogers is to me." We might suspect a double mean- 
 ins" in these words, as in Porson's remark that 
 " ' xMadoc ' will be read when Homer and Virgil are 
 forgotten." But Lord Byron had said nearly the 
 same thing in the preface to the joint publication ; 
 and in his Diary of Nov. 23, 1813 (published by 
 Moore), after saying that " Scott is undoubtedly the 
 monarch of Parnassus, and the most English of 
 bards," he continues : " I should place Rogers next 
 in the living list. I value him more, as the last of 
 the best school; Moore and Campbell both third." At 
 the same time he could hardly help seeing that 
 " Jacqueline " did not belong to the best school 
 (Pope's); and that to couple this poem with " Lara " 
 was as suicidal and self-sacrificing an act in Rogers, 
 as Byron would have committed, had he consented to 
 print his " Hints from Horace " (which he himself 
 originally preferred to " Childe Harold ") in the same 
 volume with " Human Life." 
 
 In "Human Life," published in 1819, Rogers was 
 himself again. In it and by it, in our opinion, his 
 genius, if not his fame, reached the culminating 
 point. The subject, or rather range of subjects, 
 exactly suited him; and in this, the masterpiece of his 
 matured powers, he occasionally combines the worldly 
 wisdom of Horace, and the glancing philosophy of Pope, 
 with the tender melancholy of Goldsmith and Cowper's 
 mastery over domestic scenes and affections. The 
 similarity in parts to Schiller's " Song of the Bell " 
 is certainly striking ; but the common character of 
 the subject, and the widely different style of versi- 
 fication, completely repel all suspicion of plagiarism. 
 
 G 3
 
 86 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 Nothing can be happier than the rapid introduc- 
 tory sketch of the four epochs — the birth, the 
 coming of age, the marriage, and the death of the 
 proprietor of the old manor-house ; for example : — 
 
 " And soon again shall music swell the breeze ; 
 Soon, issuing forth, shall glitter through the trees. 
 Vestures of nuptial white ; and hymns be sung, 
 And violets scattered round ; and old and young, 
 In every cottage porch with gnrlands green. 
 Stand still to gaze, and, gazing, bless the scene. 
 While, her dark eyes declining, by his side, 
 Moves in her virgin veil, the gentle bride." 
 
 Spenser himself never painted with words more dis- 
 tinctly ; though when the " Faery Queen " was read 
 aloud to an old lady deprived of sight, she remarked 
 that it was as if a succession of pictures had been held 
 up before her. Admirably, again, is indicated that 
 instinctive sense of immortality, that vague longing 
 for something better than the evanescent realities of 
 life, by which the noblest minds are stimulated and 
 disturbed unceasingly. We refer to the passage 
 beginning — 
 
 " Do what he will he cannot realise 
 Half he conceives, the glorious vision flies. 
 Go where he may, he cannot hope to find 
 The truth, the beauty, pictured in his mind." 
 
 The expansion and effusion of heart, with the de- 
 licious interchange of thought and feeling, which 
 follow the acceptance of the lover by his future wife, 
 are thus described : — 
 
 " Then come those full confidings of the past ; 
 All sunshine now, where all was overcast. 
 Then do they wander till the day is gone, 
 Lost in each other ; and when night steals on, 
 Covering them round, how sweet her accents are ! 
 Oh, Avhen she turns and speaks, her voice is far, 
 Far above singing ! but soon nothing stirs 
 To break the silence ; joy like his, like hers, 
 Deals not in words. And now the shadows close, 
 Now in the glimmering, dying light she grows
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 87 
 
 Less and less earthly ! As departs the day, 
 All that was mortal seems to melt away, 
 Till, like a gift resumed as soon as given, 
 She fades at last into a spirit from heaven." 
 
 Schiller takes the comparatively prosaic view of 
 marriage, as the death of sentiment, and the grave 
 of romance.* Rogers strikes into a more original 
 and (all things considered) perhaps truer vein. At 
 least, for the credit of poor human nature, we will 
 hope so. He bids the young bridegroom to regard 
 his bride as " a guardian angel o'er his life pre- 
 siding ; " and warns both of them, in lines that 
 deserve to be written in gold over every hearth, 
 that — 
 
 " The soul of music slumbers in the shell. 
 Till waked and kindled by the master's spell ; 
 And feeling hearts, touch them but rightly, pour 
 A thousand melodies unheard before." 
 
 As we proceed from love and marriage to the 
 closing scene, the death-bed, our admiration is still, 
 with few pauses or interruptions, on the ascending 
 scale : — 
 
 " When on his couch he sinks at last to rest, 
 Those by his counsel saved, his power redress' d, 
 
 Come and stand round — the widow and her child, 
 As when she first forgot her tears and smiled. 
 They who watch by him see not, but he sees, 
 Sees and exults — Were ever dreams like these? 
 Those who watch by him, hear not ; but he hears, 
 And Earth recedes, and Heaven itself appears ! " 
 
 This is- genuine poetry. It will bear any test or 
 criterion, and will fare best by being tried by 
 AVordsworth's, — the extent to which the imagina- 
 tion blends itself with the scene supposed to be 
 passing, and realises it to the mind's eye. 
 
 * " Mit dem Giirtel, mit dem Schleier, 
 Reisst (ler schcine Wahn cntzwei." 
 
 {Das Lied von dcr Gloche.) 
 Q 4
 
 88 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 The first part of " Italy " was published anony- 
 mously in 1822 ; and the secret must have been 
 tolerably well kept for a period, since the " Literary 
 Gazette" confidently attributed the authorship to 
 Southey. The poem was subsequently completed at 
 intervals ; and in its finished state, offers a rich 
 treat to the scholar, the virtuoso, and the lettered 
 traveller. No one would have exclaimed more en- 
 thusiastically, or with less call for factitious warmth, 
 than Rogers : " Far from me, and my friends, be 
 such frigid philosophy as may conduct us indifferent 
 and unmoved over any ground which has been 
 dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue ; " and, go 
 where he would, his memory was stored with every 
 description of image or incident that could evoke 
 or harmonise with the genius of the place. 
 
 There is a great deal more to see and feel in Italy 
 than objects or impressions which the classic student 
 can alone, or best, appreciate. She has been three 
 times the mistress of the world, — by Arms, by Art, 
 by Faith ; and her mediasval annals teem with the 
 genuine romance of history. Venice, Padua, Ferrara, 
 Bologna, Florence, Eome, Naples, — each of these 
 names oj^ens a separate treasure-house of associations ; 
 and to enjoy and fully profit by his tour, the traveller 
 should have read Guicciardini, Giannone, Dante, Pe- 
 trarch, Boccaccio, A^asari, besides Pliny, Horace, and 
 Virgil ; besides having a trained eye for the master- 
 pieces of painting, sculpture, and architecture. Rogers 
 started with reading and taste enough for^n accom- 
 plished traveller, and perhaps more than enough for 
 the poet who was to celebrate what he saw. His mind 
 was obviously overlaid by his acquired knowledge : his 
 invention was stifled by his memory : when he wished 
 to record an impression, he involuntarily reverted to 
 what an admired author had said on the same sub- 
 ject ; and we strongly suspect that what really charms
 
 SAxMUEL ROGERS. 89 
 
 SO many cultivated readers of this poem, is that they 
 frequently find their favourite passages reproduced 
 with a certain air of novelty. Thus the fine passage 
 beginning 
 
 " Italy, how beautiful tliou art ! " 
 
 recalls Filicaja's famous sonnet ; and 
 
 " The very dust we tread, stirs as with life," 
 
 comes too near 
 
 " Pause, for thy tread is on a nation's dust." 
 
 His reflections on entering Kome are tame for 
 poetry, and will not bear a comparison with Alison's 
 (in the " Essay on Taste "), although conveyed in the 
 humbler vehicle of prose. Rogers is more at home 
 in the Campagna of Rome, at Venice, on approaching 
 Genoa from the sea, or on the Alps, in ascending 
 and descending Avhich he is inspired with what strike 
 us as the finest and truest of his descriptive passages. 
 
 " Italy " was the last of his formal and deliberate 
 appeals to the public ; but down to his ninetieth 
 year he occasionally wrote verses, and, whilst his 
 mental powers lasted, he was unceasingly occupied in 
 polishing his couplets and correcting or enriching his 
 notes. A bear keeping itself alive by sucking its 
 paws, was suggested as a parallel case, and was re- 
 peated to him. The real culprit, on being charged 
 with the simile, coolly assigned it to Luttrell, who 
 laughingly consented to accept it " Avith its re- 
 sponsibilities : " and it is by no means a bad illustra- 
 tion of the manner in which Rogers coddled and 
 dandled his literary productions and reputation to the 
 last. 
 
 Amongst the records of Sydney Smith's conver- 
 sation is an entry which evidently refers to Rogers : 
 
 " ' How 13 ? ' ' He is not very well' ' Why, what
 
 C'O SAMUEL ROGERS 
 
 is the matter ? ' * Oh, don't you know he has produced a 
 couplet ? When our friend is delivered of a couplet, with 
 infinite pain and labour, he takes to his bed, has straw laid 
 down, the knocker tied up, expects his friends to call and 
 make inquiries, and the answer 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." 
 
 He has left in the shape of notes, or episodical 
 narratives (like Montorio, and the Bag of Gold, in 
 "Italy"), the choicest collection of anecdotes and 
 quotations, and some of the most exquisite pieces of 
 prose composition in the language. Where do we 
 find more happily expressed than in the introductory 
 paragraphs of " Marco Griffoni," a train of reflection 
 which recent events have forced upon mankind all the 
 world over ? 
 
 *' War is a game at which all are sure to lose, sooner or 
 later, play they how they will ; yet every nation has delighted 
 in war, and none more in their day than the little republic of 
 Genoa, whose galleys, while she had any, were always burn- 
 ing and sinking those of the Pisans, the Venetians, the 
 Greeks, or the Turks : Christian and infidel alike to her. 
 
 " But experience, when dearly bought, is seldom thrown 
 away altogether. A moment of sober reflection came at last : 
 and after a victory the most splendid and ruinous of any in 
 her annals, she resolved from that day and for ever to live at 
 peace with all mankind ; having in her long career acquired 
 nothing but glory, and a tax on every article of life." « 
 
 Mackintosh used to cite the short essay on " Na- 
 tional Prejudices " in " Italy," as perfect both in 
 thought and style. The following paragraphs will 
 . ^ enable the reader to estimate the justness of the com- 
 
 ) mendation. The immediate topic is the prevalence 
 
 of assassination at Pome : — 
 
 " It would lessen very much the severity Avith which men 
 judge of each other, if they would but trace effects to their 
 
 J
 
 SAMUEL ROGEUS. 91 
 
 causes, and observe the progress of things in the moral as ac- 
 curately as in the physical world. When we condemn 
 millions in the mass as vindictive and sanguinary, we should 
 remember that, wherever justice is ill-administered, the in- 
 jured will redress themselves. Robbery provokes to robbery: 
 
 i murder to assassination. Resentments become hereditary ; 
 
 \ and what began in disorder, ends as if all Plell had broke 
 loose. 
 
 " Laws create a habit of self-restraint, not only by the in- 
 fluence of fear, but by regulating in its exercise the passion 
 of revenge. If they overawe the bad by the prospect of a 
 
 f punishment certain and well-defined, they console the injured 
 
 i by the infliction of that punishment ; and, as the infliction is 
 a public act, it excites and entails no enmity. The laws are 
 ofl'ended ; and the community for its own sake pursues and 
 overtakes the offender; often without the concurrence of the 
 sufferer, sometimes against his wishes. 
 
 " Now those who were not born, like ourselves, to such 
 advantages, we should surely rather pity than hate ; and, 
 when at length they venture to turn against their rulers, we 
 should lament, not wonder at their excesses ; remembering 
 that nations are naturally patient and long-suffering, and 
 seldom rise in rebellion till they are so degraded by a bad 
 government as to be almost incapable of a good one." 
 
 One of Rogers's peculiar fancies was that even the 
 best -writers might be improved by condensation ; and 
 it Avas vain to Avarn him that to strip Jeremy Taylor 
 or Burke of what he called redundancies overlaying 
 the sense, was like stripping a tree of its blossoms 
 and foliage, with the view of bringing out the massive 
 roundness of the trunk. " There," he exclaimed one 
 evening, after displaying one of Burke's noblest 
 effusions (in which every word has its appointed 
 task) reduced to less than one half of its original 
 dimensions, — "there, concentrated as it now is, it 
 would blow up a cathedral." " Not," he added after 
 a short pause, " that Burke would like it to be used 
 for such a purpose." In a note to the last canto of 
 " Columbus," may be seen a specimen of this system
 
 92 SAMUKL llOGEHS. 
 
 of condensation ; the famous passnge in which the 
 An<Tel addresses Lord Bathurst bein<T reduced to 
 little more than a caput mortuum. It was a constant 
 source of triumph to him that he had told within the 
 compass of a moderate paragraph, an anecdote to 
 which Wordsworth devotes twenty-three lines of 
 verse, and Mr. R. M. Milnes twenty- eight. It stands 
 thus in Rogers's prose version : — 
 
 " You admire that picture, said an old Dominican to me 
 at Padua, as I stood contemplating a Last Supper in the 
 refectory of his convent, the figures as large as the life. I 
 have sat at my meals before it for seven and forty years ; and 
 sucli are the changes that have taken place among us — so 
 many have come and gone in the time — that, when I look 
 upon the company there — upon those who are sitting at that 
 table, silent as they are — I am sometimes inclined to think 
 that we, and not they, are the shadows." {Italy, p. 312.) 
 
 There was one consequence of having printed his 
 best anecdotes to which he submitted reluctantly. 
 He was loth to surrender the privilege of relating 
 them ; and he was comically perplexed between the 
 pleasure of having told what was accepted as new by 
 the company, and disappointment at finding that his 
 cherished notes had been forgotten or never read at 
 all. " You don't seem to know where that comes 
 from," became at last his frequent reproach to a friend, 
 who knew all his notes by heart, yet listened to them 
 with an air of interest. " I will show you whether I 
 do or not," was the rejoinder ; and during their two 
 or three next meetings, he invariably gave the refer- 
 ence to each story as it was told. Rogers could not 
 bear this, and a compromise was effected ; he agree- 
 ing to give credit for the knowledge which had only 
 been suppressed from courtesy. 
 
 A portion of the " parting word " which he ad- 
 dressed to the readers of " Italy," will form an apt 
 introduction to our remarks on those features of his
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 93 
 
 character and elements of his reputation which must 
 be learnt and studied apart from his writings : — 
 
 " Nature denied him much, * 
 
 But gave him at his birth what most he values ; 
 A passionate love for music, sculpture, painting, 
 For poetry, the language of the gods. 
 For all things here, or grand or beautiful, 
 A setting sun, a lake among the mountains. 
 The light of an ingenuous countenance. 
 And what transcends them all, a noble action. 
 Nature denied him much, but gave him more ; 
 And ever, ever grateful should he be, 
 Though from his cheek, ere yet the down was there, 
 Health fled ; for in his heaviest hours would come 
 Gleams such as come not now ; nor failed he then 
 (Then and through life his happiest privilege) 
 Full oft to wander where the Muses haunt, 
 Smit with the love of sonj;." 
 
 o 
 
 Nature did not give him a passionate love for any- 
 thing, afiimate or inanimate — 
 
 " Not his the wealth to some large natures lent, 
 Divinely lavish, even when misspent ; 
 That liberal sunshine of exuberant soul, 
 Thought, sense, affection, warming up the whole." 
 
 What she gave him — and a rich endowment it is 
 — was an exquisite sensibility to excellence, or (what 
 is nearly the same thing) the power of deriving gra- 
 tification from the most refined objects of human 
 enjoyment : and he devoted his long life to the culti- 
 vation of this faculty till it reached the highest de- 
 gree of perfection to which taste, without enthusiasm 
 and cultivated with an Epicurean aim, can be deemed 
 capable of attaining. 
 
 So striking a confirmation of our own theory of his 
 character has just reached us from an accomplished 
 friend, who knew and loved him, that we are tempted 
 to quote part of it : — '"I believe no man ever was 
 so much attended to and thought of, who had so 
 slender a fortune and such calm abilities. His God 
 was Harmony ; and over his life Harmony presided
 
 94 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 sitting on a lukewarm cloud. He was not the poet, 
 sage, and philosopher people expect to find he was ; 
 but -a man in whom the tastes (rare fact) prepon- 
 derated over the passions, who defrayed the expenses 
 of his tastes as other men make outlay for the grati- 
 fication of tlieir passions. He did nothing rash. I 
 am sure Rogers as a baby never fell down unless he 
 was pushed ; but walked from chair to chair in the 
 drawing-room, steadily and quietly, till he reached 
 the place where the sunbeam fell on the carpet. He 
 must always have preferred a lullaby to the merriest 
 game of romps ; and, if he could have spoken, would 
 have begged his long clothes might be made of fine 
 mull muslin instead of cambric or jacquenot ; the 
 first fabric being of incomparable softness, and the 
 two latter capable of that which he loathed, starch." 
 
 Everything around and about him spoke the same 
 language and told the same story. The voluminous 
 catalogue of his accumulations has been recently pe- 
 rused by thousands ; and his treasures have been laid 
 bare for weeks to the inspection of connoisseurs under 
 every disadvantage of confusion ; yet (making due 
 allowance for things, which, if they ever belonged to 
 him, had been flung aside into drawers or cupboards) 
 the universal impression has been astonishment at the 
 judgment, knowledge, forbearance, and eye for beauty 
 throughout the whole range of art, displayed by the 
 collector. It was said of a celebrated lawyer, that he 
 had no rubbish in his head : it might have been said 
 of Rogers (judging only from what met the eye) that 
 he had no rubbish in his house. Varied as were his 
 stores, they were not heaped one upon another, or 
 thrown into incongruous groups ; his pictures, statues, 
 bronzes, vazes, medals, curious books, and precious 
 manuscripts, simply supplied the place of the ordinary 
 ornamental furniture of a gentleman's house ; and 
 there was nothing beyond their intrinsic excellence to
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 95 
 
 remind the visitor that almost every object his eye 
 fell upon was a priceless gem, a coveted rarity, or an 
 acknowledged masterpiece. In this respect, as in 
 most others, the superiority of the tenant of 22, St. 
 James' Place to the fastidious lord of Strawberry Hill, 
 shone conspicuous. 
 
 It should also be remembered that Eogers was at 
 no time overl)urdened with wealth ; and that sixty 
 years since the patronage of art and literature was 
 confined to the most opulent of our nobles and landed 
 gentry ; who devoted their thousands per annum to 
 furnish a gallery, with the same indiscriminating pro- 
 digality with which their less polished compeers pro- 
 ceeded to form a racing stud. There were no railway 
 kings, or Liverpool merchants, or Manchester manu- 
 facturers, to bid for Wilsons or Gainsboroughs, as they 
 now bid for the productions, as fast as they can be 
 finished, of Landseer, Eastlake, Leslie, Millais, Mul- 
 ready. Hart, Roberts, Stanfield, or Maclise ; nor, under 
 any circumstances, would it be easy to over-estimate the 
 beneficial influence of a judge and occasional purchaser, 
 like Mr. Rogers, mingling familiarly with artists, dis- 
 tinguishing genuine originality from its plausible 
 counterfeit, encouraging the first faint struggles of 
 modest merit, and controllins: the extravao:ance into 
 which genius is too often hurried by its characteristic 
 rashness or self-confidence. Although his limited 
 house-room and fortune commonly restricted his per- 
 sonal acquisitions to objects of known value, he had 
 an almost unerring eye for coming success and cele- 
 brity. " I envy and admire your courage in buying 
 Turners," was his remark to Mr. Munro of Novar, 
 when that gentleman, in well-founded reliance on his 
 own taste and knowledge, ventured to anticipate the 
 verdict of posterity and Mr. Ruskin. 
 
 The impression left on guests of taste and sen si-
 
 9G SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 bility is admirably described in the following lines by 
 one of the most courted and esteemed of them : — 
 
 " Who can forget, who at thy social board 
 Hath sat, and seen the pictures richly stored, 
 In all their tints of glory and of gloom, 
 Brightening the precincts of thy quiet room; 
 With busts and statues full of that deep grace 
 Which modern hands have lost the skill to trace ; 
 Fragments of beauty, perfect as thy song 
 On that sweet land to which they did belong, — 
 Th' exact and classic taste by thee displayed ; 
 Not with a rich man's idle fond parade, 
 Not with the pomp of some vain connoisseur, 
 Proud of his bargains, of his judgment sure ; 
 But with the feelings kind and sad, of one 
 Who thro' far countries wandering hath gone. 
 And brought away dear keepsakes, to remind 
 His heart and home of all he left behind." * 
 
 Amongst his " fragments of beauty," were some 
 female hands and feet in marble, carefully preserved 
 under glass cases which it was treason to remove. 
 One evening after dinner, when the male guests re- 
 joined the ladies in the drawing room, a beauty in the 
 full flush of rank and fashion, whose lightest caprice 
 was law, called to him to come and look at her feet, 
 and he was not a little amused to find that she had 
 disposed a pair of his marble models under her drapery 
 so as to make them occupy the place of her own feet ; 
 and (barring nudity and immobility) they might 
 have realised the tempting vision of Suckling : — 
 
 " Her feet beneath her petticoat, 
 Like little mice stole in and out, 
 As if they feared the light." 
 
 The illustrated edition of " Italy " was, we believe, 
 the first instance in which (since Boydell's time) first- 
 class artists were engaged without regard to expense 
 for such a purpose. It was speedily followed by a 
 
 * The Dream, and other Poems. By the Honourable Mrs. Norton, 
 p. 180.
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 97 
 
 corresponding edition of the " Poems ; " and every 
 succeeding reprint of Rogers's works has been enriched 
 by engravings or vignettes from drawings or designs 
 by the first of modern English painters, including 
 Edwin Landseer, Eastlake, Turner, Stothard, and 
 Calcott. Many of them are quite perfect in their 
 way; and the author superintended them with the 
 same care with which he polished his own verses. 
 The two first illustrated editions of "Italy" and the 
 "Poems" cost him about 15,000/., and there was 
 a period when the speculation threatened to be a 
 losing one. Turner was to have received 50/. a 
 piece for his drawings, but on its being represented to 
 him that Rogers had miscalculated the probable 
 returns, the artist (who has been ignorantly accused 
 of covetousness) immediately off'ered to take them 
 back ; and it was eventually arranged that he should 
 do so, receiving 5/. a piece for the use of them. 
 
 Rogers's musical taste was a natural gift, the result 
 of organisation, and partook very slightly of the 
 acquired or conventional quality. He delighted in 
 sweet sounds, in soft flowing airs, in tunes linked 
 with pleasing associations, and in simple melodies, 
 rather than in complicated harmonies. He would 
 have agreed with the critic, who on being informed 
 that a brilliant performance just concluded was ex- 
 tremely difficult, ejaculated, " I wish it had been 
 impossible." Amongst Italian composers, Bellini 
 was his favourite. When he dined at home and 
 alone, it was his custom to have an Italian organ- 
 grinder playing in the hall, the organ being set to 
 the Sicilian Mariners' air and other popular tunes 
 of the South. He kept nightingales in cages on his 
 staircase and in his bedroom, closely covered up 
 from the light, to sing to him. The morning was 
 the time when he enjoyed music most: he would 
 then listen for hours to female voices, and we need 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 SAMUEL ROGKRS. 
 
 liardly add that he especially delighted in what may 
 be called rather the musical recitation than the 
 singing of jNIoore. Nothing annoyed him more than 
 to hear the songs he loved profaned by inferior exe- 
 cution. "Can you stay and bear it ?" was his mut- 
 tered remonstrance to a friend whom he fairly dragged 
 out of the room when an accomplished amateur Avas 
 throw in fx as much soul as he could muster into — 
 
 " Give smiles to those who love you less, 
 But keep your tears for me." 
 
 This friend had recently spent an evening at 
 Sloperton Cottage, during which Moore sang readily 
 every song that was suggested to him, having 
 first announced that he would only attempt those 
 of the more gay and inspiriting kind; his nervous 
 system having been a good deal shaken by a do- 
 mestic affliction. Mrs. Moore, who watched with 
 considerate affection to see that he did not uncon- 
 sciously transgress this rule, left the room ; and 
 he began " When midst the fair 1 meet," — but on 
 coming to the lines just mentioned his voice faltered, 
 his hands fell motionless on the piano, and he burst 
 into tears. It was to this incident, which had been 
 related to Rogers, that he referred in his vehement 
 remonstrance. 
 
 On another occasion, a breakfast party, one of the 
 guests sang one of Moore's songs in Moore's presence, 
 to the evident discomposure of the poet. " Well," 
 said Rogers, " I have seen the bravest meji of my time : 
 I have seen Nelson, Wellington, and Ney, but our 
 friend is the bravest of them all." 
 
 One of the few passages of Shakspeare which he 
 heard or repeated with complacency was : — 
 
 " Her voice was ever soft, 
 Gentle, and low ; an excellent thing in woman." 
 
 Natural sweetness of tone did not satisfy him either 
 in reading or singing. One of his female acquaint-
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 99 
 
 ance, whose voice is singularly rich and musical, relates 
 that he once asked her to read out some MS. verses 
 of Moore's or Byron's which were pasted on the fly- 
 leaf of one of his books. What he called her sing- 
 song mode of reading so irritated him, that he 
 snatched the paper out of her hands and (to use her 
 own words) read it aloud himself most touchingly 
 and musically. 
 
 Rogers was hardly cold in his grave, when the 
 book named at the head of this article appeared 
 under the auspices of his confidential publisher, 
 Mr. Moxon. On its announcement, our hopes rose 
 high. If we despaired of another Boswell, we anti- 
 cipated something not inferior to Hazlitt's " Conver- 
 sations with Northcote ; " and ample materials might 
 have been accumulated by a judicious note-taker for 
 an entertaining and instructive volume, which would 
 have done justice to the " Talk" it aspired to record. 
 We regret to be obliged to say that this book is in no 
 one respect a creditable one ; and the circumstance 
 of its having been brought out anonymously throws 
 the main responsibility on the publisher. 
 
 In the first place, we doubt the propriety of 
 printing as the " Table Talk of Samuel Rogers " the 
 half-remembered and garbled contents of sundry 
 well-known copy-books, in which his recollections 
 were set down in his own condensed and felicitous 
 language. We allude particularly to his notes of 
 conversations with Horner, Tooke, Grattan, Fox, 
 Erskine, the Duke of Wellington, &c., which, we 
 presume, are now in the possession of his executors, 
 and some time or other will be accurately given to 
 the world. As well might a note-keeping friend 
 carry off an imperfect recollection of an original 
 work that had been read to him in manuscript, and 
 publish an abstract of it for profit. 
 
 In the second place, we impugn the qualifications 
 
 u 2
 
 100 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 of the compiler for his self-imposed task ; for he has 
 repeatedly made Rogers use the very phraseology he 
 notoriously disliked, and fall into errors of which he 
 would have been ashamed. 
 For example : — 
 
 " I paid five guineas (in conjunction with Boddington) for 
 a loge at Tooke's trial. It was the custom in those days 
 (and perhaps is so still) to place bunches of strong-smelling 
 plants of different sorts at the bar, where the criminal was 
 to sit (I suppose to purify the air from the contagion of his 
 presence !) This was done at Tooke's trial : but, as soon as 
 he was brought in, he indignantly swept them away with his 
 handkercliief. The trial lasted six days. Erskine (than 
 whom nobody had ever more power with the jury, — he 
 would frequently address them as * his little-twelvers ') de- 
 fended Tooke most admirably " (p. 128). 
 
 Rogers never spoke of having taken a loge or box 
 either, on such an occasion. So nice an observer 
 must have seen that bunches of strono'-smellino- 
 plants or flowers were placed upon the cushions of the 
 judicial bench as well as at the bar where the criminal 
 stands ; and he never could have understood Erskine 
 as saying that he actually addressed a jury as "his 
 little-twelvers." 
 
 The repartee given to Dunning (p. 56), which was 
 quite inapplicable to Lord Mansfield, is an old joke 
 from Anstey's " Pleader's Guide ; " and if Rogers 
 (p. 49) really describe Lord Ellenborough as en- 
 dowed with " infinite wit," he probably gave some 
 more convincing examples than the joke about Lord 
 Kenyon's "laying down " his pocket-handkerchief, or 
 than a touch of coarse humour like the folloAvinff : — 
 
 *' A lawyer one day pleading before him, and using several 
 times the expression ' my unfortunate client,' Lord Ellen- 
 borough suddenly interrupted him : ' There, sir, the court is 
 with you.' " 
 
 It was a young lawyer in his first case, fie began,
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 101 
 
 " My Lords, my unfortunate client. My Lords, my 
 unfortunate client," " Proceed, sir," said Lord Ellen- 
 borough, "s^/czr the court is quite with you." 
 
 To tell correctly the well-known story of the wig 
 would require more space than it is worth ; and this 
 compiler's version of a shorter one will sufficiently 
 illustrate his infelicity as a carrier of good things. 
 
 "The English highwaymen of former days (indeed, the 
 race is now extinct) were remarkably well-bred personages. 
 Thomas Grenville, while travelling with Lord Derby, and 
 Lord Tankerville, while travelling with his father, were 
 attacked by highwaymen ; on both occasions six or seven 
 shots were exchanged between them and the highwaymen ; 
 and when the parties assailed had expended all their ammu- 
 nition, the highwaymen came up to them, and took their 
 purses in the politest manner possible" (p. 198). 
 
 According to Mr. Grenville, whom Rogers ahvays 
 conscientiously repeated, after the travellers had 
 delivered up their purses, the highwaymen said, 
 " What scoundrels you must be, to interfere with 
 gentlemen about their business on the road." Mr. 
 Grenville (and Rogers after him) used to follow up 
 the story, by relating how, one night when he was 
 walking down Hay Hill, he heard cries of " stop 
 thief," and saw a man on horseback dash down the 
 steps of Lansdowne Passage, and escape ; adding 
 that, to prevent such a thing happening again, the 
 iron bar was put up. 
 
 The following is another of Mr. Grenville's stories, 
 which Rogers used to repeat correctly, and which the 
 author of the " Table Talk" has spoiled : — 
 
 " I have often heard the Duke of York relate how he 
 and brother George (George the Fourth), when young men, 
 Avere robbed by foot-pads on Hay IIIU. They had dined 
 that day at Devonshire House, and then gone home to lay 
 aside their court dresses, and afterwards proceeded t6 a house 
 
 H 3
 
 102 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 of a certain description in the neighbourhood of Berkeley 
 Square. They were returning from it in a hackney coach, 
 late at night, when some footpads stopped them on Hay 
 Hill, and carried otF their purses, watches, &c." (p. 162). 
 
 The footpads were a party of their own wild set. 
 It was a repetition of Prince Hal and Poins's frolic, 
 except that royalty was passive instead of active this 
 time; and the two princes showed the white feather 
 so ludicrously, that the pretended footpads thought 
 it best to pocket the booty and. keep their own secret. 
 The learned in French ana will remember that a 
 similar trick was once attempted with Turenne, who 
 showed his habitual courage and presence of mind. 
 " If you had succeeded in frightening me," was his 
 cool remark on the avowal of the frolic, " I would 
 have killed you and myself within the hour." 
 
 The remarks on Mrs. Barbauld, attributed to Fox, 
 are so vague and wide of the mark, that it is difficult 
 to imagine Rogers repeating them without specifying 
 their inaccuracies. Her "Life of Richardson," which 
 Fox praises, was written in 1804. Her "Books for 
 Children" were written before the late Lord Denman, 
 her pupil, had attained his fourth year. The " First 
 Lessons " were composed at an earlier period, for her 
 adopted son, Charles Aikin. She wrote no more 
 children's books when she had no children to educate; 
 nor was it " waste of talents " at any time to write 
 such children's books as hers. When she had left off 
 writing from domestic anxiety, Rogers urged her to 
 resume her pen ; and he used a powerful incentive 
 when he told her that Fox had pronounced her to be 
 the best prose writer in the language. 
 
 During the closing years of his life, Rogers often 
 told the same story with variations, and a duly quali- 
 fied reminiscent might be expected to preserve the best 
 version. The compiler of this book has commonly 
 managed to select the worst. Let his account of the
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 103 
 
 visit to Coleridge (p. 203) be compared with the 
 following which was supplied by a friend : — 
 
 " Wordsworth and myself," said Kogers, " had walked to 
 Highgate to caU on Coleridge, when he was living at 
 Gillman's. We sat with him two hours, he talking the 
 whole time without intermission. When Ave left the house, 
 we walked for some time without speaking — 'What a 
 wonderful man he is ! ' exclaimed AVordsworth. * Won- 
 derful, indeed,' said I. ' What depth of thought, what 
 richness of expression ! ' continued AVordsworth. * There's 
 nothing like him that ever I heard,' rejoined I, — another 
 pause. 'Pray,' inquired Wordsworth, 'did you precisely 
 understand what he said about the Kantian philosophy ? ' 
 R. 'Not precisely.' W. 'Or about the plurality of 
 worlds ? ' i?. ' I can't say I did. In fact, if the truth 
 must out, I did not understand a syllable from one end of his 
 monoloKue to the other." W. 'No more did I.'" 
 
 o 
 
 At p. 287 we find, "When his physician advised 
 him to take a walk upon an empty stomach, Sydney 
 Smith asked 'upon whose?'" The advice was to 
 take exercise ; and the joke is older than Sydney 
 Smith; in justice to whoin it should be added that 
 he always indignantly repudiated the foie gras theory 
 of Heaven attributed to him in the same passage. 
 
 At p. 288 Rogers is made to say, "Witty as Smith 
 was, I have seen him at my own house absolutely 
 overpowered by the superior facetiousness of William 
 Bankes." This is preposterous. William Bankes 
 certainly possessed extraordinary powers of conversa- 
 tion, but they were not in the facetious line, and he 
 was no match for Sydney Smith. What Rogers said 
 was that Bankes " got the first innings " and kept it 
 through two courses. The same gentleman once 
 performed a similar exploit at Apsley House at a 
 party made expressly for Sir Walter Scott. On this 
 occasion, whenever Bankes paused, a well-known 
 reviewer (the agreeable individual whom the late 
 
 u -A
 
 104 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 Lord Rokeby christened the Boa Contradictor) struck " 
 in, and the result was, that the Author of Waverley's _ 
 
 voice was never heard at alL Unless (which was a t 
 
 rare occurrence) Sydney Smith became irritated, he 
 was essentially well-bred, and any one gifted with 
 a loud voice and ready utterance might have talked 
 him down. 
 
 Indications are not wanting that the compiler was 
 not on such intimate terms with Rogers as he would 
 fain lead the public to believe. Thus : — 
 
 " At one time, when I gave a dinner, I used to have 
 candles placed all round the dining room, and high ujj, in 
 order to show off the pictures, I asked Smith how he liked 
 this plan. ' Not at all,' he replied ; ' above there is a blaze 
 of light, and below, nothing but darkness and gnashing of 
 teeth'" (p. 287). 
 
 Any one who ever dined at Rogers's must surely 
 have remembered that the room was lighted by 
 sconces fixed in the wall, and that the light, which 
 was not " high up," was reflected from the pictures. 
 
 To demonstrate all the demerits of this book, would 
 be to rewrite half of it at least. Its merit or utility 
 consists in the aid or stimulant it may supply to the 
 recollections of others, and in its conveying some 
 notion of the kind of conversation in which Rogers 
 delighted. His choice of topics, not his mode of 
 treating them, may be collected from it. These were 
 books, pictures, morals, manners, literary history'-, 
 the drama, men and women of genius, — anything or 
 everything but the idle gossip, the unidea'd chatter, 
 half made up of proper names, in which the idle 
 population of London contrive to occupy their time. 
 A morning spent at his breakfast-table was almost 
 invariably well spent. Vacant-minded and uncon- 
 genial was the man or woman who did not come away 
 wiser or better.
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 105 
 
 Goethe says that one capital mode of preserving 
 the mind healthful and the taste pure, is to begin the 
 day by reading some good poetry, hearing some good 
 music, and contemplating a fine picture. This is 
 what Rogers literally did, and induced his guests to 
 do. Most days when the party was small and dis- 
 posed to linger over the intellectual portion of the 
 entertainment, he would send for his favourite authors, 
 and read aloud the passages he had marked, pausing 
 at times to note the changes in his own or the popular 
 appreciation. If a fine passage was alluded to by 
 others, " Find it for me," was the word ; and 
 " Edmund," the most intelligent of improvised libra- 
 rians, was despatched for the volume. " That lad," 
 remarked Rogers, " would find not only any book in 
 the house, but I begin to think, any book oiLt of the 
 house." 
 
 Without going so far as Byron, who one day said 
 to Moore, " Well, after all, Tom, don't you think 
 Shakspeare was something of a humbug ? " — Rogers 
 had little real admiration for the greatest of poets : 
 and he frequently read aloud from Ben Jonson's 
 "Discoveries:" — "I remember the players have 
 often mentioned it as an honour to Shakspeare, that 
 in his writings, whatsoever he penned, he never 
 blotted out a line. My answer hath been, ' Would 
 he had blotted out a thousand ! ' " Rogers always 
 laid a strong emphasis on the concluding sentence. 
 He one morning challenged the company to produce 
 a passage from Shakspeare which would not have 
 been improved by blotting ; and after picking many 
 beautiful specimens to pieces, he was with difficulty 
 silenced by the one beginning — 
 
 " How sweet the moonjight sleeps upon this bank." 
 
 A single inharmonious or superfluous word, like the 
 crumpled rose-leaf on the coucli, made him restless
 
 106 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 and cnptious, and his canons of criticism were fatal to 
 most first-class poetry. He was constantly holding 
 up to censure the remark of a brilliant and popular 
 writer, that there is alwaj's something shadowy and 
 vague in the very highest productions of the imagina- 
 tion ; yet surely the very essence of sublimity is to be 
 undefined and limitless — 
 
 " What seemed its head, 
 The likeness of a liingly crown had on." 
 
 He is reported, we believe correctly, as saying, — 
 " When I was travelling in Italy, I made two authors 
 my constant study for versification, — Milton and 
 Crowe." Yet Crowe's versification is commonly in- 
 harmonious, his descriptions are laboured, and his 
 thoughts forced. The truth is, Rogers had little or 
 none of the analytical or self-examining faculty, so 
 indispensable in criticising either books or men. He 
 bestowed praise or censure as he was pleased or dis- 
 pleased, without reflecting that when an impression 
 is what the Germans call " subjective," it is a most 
 deceptive test of merit or demerit in the object. Thus 
 he once challenged his guests to produce a better 
 verse than — 
 
 " Those who came to scoff, remained to pray ; " 
 
 which has no one distinctive quality of poetry ; and 
 he could hardly be brought to admit the poetic supe- 
 riority of another line in the same passage : — 
 
 " As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, 
 Swells from the vale and midway leaves the storm." 
 
 In reading, he followed Bacon's maxim : to read 
 much, not many things — niultum legere, non multa. 
 He used to say, " \A'hen a new book comes out, I read 
 an old one." He often invited popular authors to his 
 house, and spoke to them of their writings, without
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 107 
 
 liaving read a page of them. His first acquaintance 
 with the many admirable creations of Mr. Dickens's 
 genius was " Little Nelly." One of the last compo- 
 sitions which he read slowly and carefully, and praised 
 emphatically, was the Duke of Newcastle's dispatch 
 to Lord Raglan on the Battle of the Alma. 
 
 " Be it mine," writes Gray, " to lie all day long on 
 a sofa and read eternal new novels of Marivaux and 
 Crebillon." This having been quoted at one of 
 Kogers's breakfasts, at which three persons were pre- 
 sent besides himself, he asked all in succession whether 
 they had read " Marianne." They all replied in the 
 negative. " Then I will lend you each a copy," and 
 the three copies were immediately produced. He 
 strongly denounced modern French novels. At a 
 breakfast party, consisting of two gentlemen, and two 
 young ladies of sixteen and seventeen with their go- 
 verness, he produced Scribe's " Tonadillas ; " and 
 after expatiating on the moral tendency of the first 
 story, gave the two volumes to the young ladies to 
 take home with them. The next morning, one of the 
 male guests informed him of the true character of the 
 book, all except the first story being in the most cor- 
 rupting style of a corrupt school. He started oflf to 
 redeem his error, but his fair friends had gone into 
 the country and judiciously carried "Tonadillas" 
 along with them. " You will never," he vowed, " see 
 a modern French novel in my house again." 
 
 He often read from his Notes Rousseau's profession 
 of " un gout vif pour les dejeuners. C'est le tems de 
 la journee oil nous sommes le plus tranquilles, oil 
 nous causons le plus a notre aise." It was a current 
 joke that he asked people to breakfast by Avay of pro- 
 bation for dinner ; but his breakfast parties (till the 
 unwillingness to be alone made him less discrimina- 
 ting) were made for those with whom he wished to 
 live socially, and his dinners, comparatively speaking,
 
 108 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 were affairs of necessity or form. Even in his hap- 
 piest moods, he was not convivial : his spirits never 
 rose above temperate: he disliked loud talking or 
 laughing ; and unless some distinguished personage, 
 or privileged wit, was there to break the ice and keep 
 up the ball, the conversation at his dinners not un- 
 frequently flagged. It seemed to be, and perhaps 
 was, toned down by the subdued light, which left half 
 the room in shadow, and speedily awoke the fairer 
 portion of the company to the disagreeable conscious- 
 ness that their complexions were looking muddy and 
 their toilettes the opposite of fresh. After making 
 every allowance for this drawback, however, his 
 dinners were justly reckoned amongst the pleasantest 
 in Town ; and all the diaries of (or relating to) the 
 celebrated characters that have fi2:ured on the stage 
 of London life during the last fifty years, bear ample 
 testimony to the fact. Moore's and Byron's alone 
 commemorate remarkable parties enough to give their 
 host immortality as an Amphitryon, and they show, 
 moreover, that he never fell into the weakness of 
 which he is made (" Table Talk," p. 175) to accuse 
 Bishop Marlay, that of " giving great dinners chiefly 
 to people of rank and fashion, foolish men and foolish 
 women." Here are two extracts from Byron's Diary 
 for 1814: — 
 
 " Sunday, Mcarch 6. On Tuesday last dined with Rogers: 
 Madame de Stael, Mackintosh, Sheridan, Erskine, and Payne 
 Knight, Lady Donegall and Miss R. there. Sheridan told a 
 very good story of himself and Madame de Recaraier's hand- 
 kerchief. Erskine a few good stories of himself only. 
 
 " March 10th. Thor's day. On Tuesday dined with Rogers: 
 Mackintosh, Sheridan, Sharpe. Much talk and good, all ex- 
 cept my own little prattlement. Set down Sheridan at 
 Brookes's, where, by the by, he could not well set down him- 
 self, as he and I were the only drinkers." 
 
 Rogers used to relate that, when Madame de Stael
 
 SAMUEL EOGERS. 109 
 
 first arrived in England in the fulness of her fame, 
 she was invited to one of the large evening parties at 
 Lansdowne House ; and after deliberating on the best 
 mode of making her debut^ she requested him to stand 
 with her in a conspicuous portion of the chief saloon, 
 so that she might be first seen by the London world 
 of fashion and politics in close communion with 
 literature. 
 
 During the last half of his life, most foreigners of 
 distinction, with many who had no claim on his notice 
 beyond avowed admiration or curiosity, made a point 
 of getting introduced to him, and an introduction 
 almost always implied an invitation to breakfast. Pie 
 was partial to Americans, both out of gratitude for 
 his popularity in the United States, and because they 
 did not compel him to speak French, in which he 
 never conversed fluently or at his ease. The author 
 of the " Table Talk " has transferred to Talleyrand's 
 dinner-table a brief coUoqu}'^ with Lamartine, which 
 Rogers always used to mention as having occurred at 
 one of his own breakfasts. 
 
 " Lamartine is a man of genius, but very affected. Talley- 
 rand, when in London, invited me to meet him, and placed 
 me beside him at dinner. I asked him, ' Are you acquainted 
 with Beranger? ' 'No : he wished to be introduced to me, 
 but I declined it.' ' I would go,' said I, ' a league to see 
 him.' This was nearly all our conversation : he did not 
 choose to talk. In short, he was so disagreeable, that, some 
 days after, both Talleyrand and the Duchess di Dino apologised 
 to me for his ill-breeding " (p. 253). 
 
 The more authentic version is that Rogers, not 
 allowing for the literary and political feuds of Paris 
 (although he had lived in times when a Tory poet 
 would not willingly have remained in the same room 
 with a Radical), eagerly inquired of Lamartine, who 
 doubtless thought himself a more legitimate subject 
 of interest, what sort of a man Beranger was, and
 
 110 SAMUEL ROGERS. ' ■I 
 
 what he was about. "Je ne le connais pas,'' said 
 Laraartine. " Je vous plains^'' rejoined Rogers. 
 
 He was still more unlucky with August von 
 Schlegel, whom he asked if, since Goethe's death, 
 there had been any poets in Germany. " I am a 
 poet," was the indignant response. 
 
 The Count and Countess de Montalembert were at 
 one of his breakfasts in 1839. When they had left 
 the room, he remarked to the remaining guests : " I 
 envy that young man, not for his youth, nor for his 
 name, nor even for his handsome wife, but for his 
 faith. He seems to believe in something, and that 
 makes a man really happy." 
 
 Most appropriately might Rogers have exclaimed 
 with Horace — 
 
 " Quicquid sum ego, quamvis 
 Infra Lucili censum ingeniumque, tamen me 
 Cum magnis vixisse invita fatebitur usque 
 Invidia."— 
 
 The solid advantages of such a position are un- 
 deniable. The privilege of mingling in daily and 
 familiar intercourse with the most eminent men and 
 women of the age, and of going at once to the foun- 
 tain-head for every description of knowledge, is a 
 proud and enviable one ; and in labouring hard for 
 it, Rogers is not to be confounded with the mere 
 lover of titles and fine company for their own sake. 
 A cursory reference to the obstacles he had to sur- 
 mount at starting, will serve the double purpose of 
 illustrating his character, and of claiming for him the 
 credit which is his due for his subsequent exertions 
 to level or lower the artificial barriers between the 
 aristocracy of birth and rank and that of genius and 
 intellect. 
 
 We learn from Moore that, when Sheridan came to 
 Town with his first wife, it was a subject of anxious 
 debate whether the son of a player could be received
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. Ill 
 
 at Devonshire House, although that player was by- 
 birth and education a gentleman. An excuse is sug- 
 gested by Miss Berry when, referring to the society 
 which she had seen as a girl, she says : — "Authors, 
 actors, composers, singers, musicians, were all equally 
 considered as profligate vagrants. Those whose good 
 taste, or whose greater knowledge of the world, led 
 them to make some exceptions, were implicated in the 
 same moral category." * She adds in the next 
 page : — " It was not till late in the reign of George 
 III. that sculptors, architects, and painters (with the 
 single exception of Sir J. Reynolds) were received 
 and formed a chosen part of the best and most chosen 
 society in London." 
 
 This statement is greatly over-coloured, particularly 
 so far as authors are concerned ; although the lives 
 led by some of the most eminent (Fielding for ex- 
 ample), and the early struggles of others (as depicted 
 in Johnson's life of Savage), gave plausibility to the 
 charge of profligacy and vagrancy. But it is an 
 undoubted fact that successful authorship did not of 
 itself constitute a recommendation to the best society 
 till long after Rogers had aspired to become a leading 
 member of it; and his first cautious advances were 
 made rather in the character of a liberal host than of 
 a popular poet.f The completion of his house in St. 
 James's Place, in which he sought, not unsuccess- 
 fully, to carry out the views developed in his " Epistle 
 to a Friend," was probably the commencement of his 
 career as a Maecenas, a diner-out and a dinner-giver 
 
 * England and France : a comparative View of the social Condition of 
 both Countries. By the Editor of IMadame du Deffand's Letters, vol. ii. 
 p. 42. Allowances must be made for this lady's sympathy with Horace 
 Walpole, who affected a contempt for professional authorsliip. 
 
 f See for example in Moore's Life of Byron, or Memoirs of Moore, 
 vol. viii. p. 97, 98, the manner in which the reconciliation dinner for 
 Moore and Byron was made up, Rogers not being then acc^uainted with 
 the noble poet.
 
 112 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 of the first water. Yet some of the most distin- 
 guished of his connexions were formed at an ante- 
 cedent period ; and one of his best stories was of a 
 dinner given by him, when he occupied chambers in 
 the Temple*, to Fox, Sheridan, Erskine, Perry (of . ^ 
 the " Morning Chronicle"), and other Whig notables. t 
 
 The dinner had been ordered from the Mitre Tavern, 
 and was to arrive by instalments. The appointed 
 hour was past, yet not a dish had made its appear- 
 ance. " I quietly stole out," continued Rogers, " and 
 hurried to the Mitre. ' AVhat has become of my 
 dinner ? ' I asked. ' Your dinner, sir, — your dinner 
 is for to-morrow.' I stood aghast, and for a moment 
 plans of suicidal desperation crossed my brain : when 
 the tavern-keeper relieved me from my perplexity, 
 by saying that he had so many dinners on hand, that 
 mine, if ever ordered, had escaped his recollection 
 altogether. ' Many dinners on hand, have you ? then 
 if you will send me the best dish from each of them, 
 I will pay you double ; and if you won't, you shall 
 never see ray face again.' As I was a good customer, 
 he chose the more prudent and profitable alternative; 
 and after an hour's waiting my guests were seated 
 and served. ' And how did the dinner go ofi* ? ' 
 * Oh, very well : they got a bad dinner, hut they got a 
 good story to tell against me.'' " The conclusion was 
 characteristic ; for he himself would at any time have 
 been consoled for a bad dinner by a good story against 
 the host or the company. 
 
 There is another remarkable entry in Byron's 
 Diary for Nov. 22, 1813: — 
 
 *' Rogers is silent, — and, it is said, severe. When he does 
 talk, he talks well ; and, on all subjects of taste, his delicacy 
 of expression is pure as his poetry. If you enter his house — 
 
 • His chambers were in Paper Buildings, and had been occupied by 
 Lord EUenborough. A new range has since been erected on the site.
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. ^ 118 
 
 Ills drawing-room — ^liis library — you of yourself say, this is 
 not the tlwelHng of a common mind. Tliere is not a gem, a 
 coin, a book thrown aside on his chimney-piece, his sofa, his 
 table, that does not bespeak an almost fastidious elegance in 
 the possessor. But this very delicacy must be the misery of 
 his existence. Oh, the jarring s his disposition must have en- 
 countered through life ! " 
 
 This leads us to the consideration of a well-known 
 peculiarity in his mental construction, or acquired 
 habits, which, strange to say, no one would so much 
 as guess from the " Table Talk," — namely, his mode 
 of looking at, or placing, everything and everybody 
 in the most disadvantageous point of view. Franklin, 
 in his autobiography, mentions a gentleman who, 
 having one handsome and one shrivelled leg, was 
 wont to test the disposition of a new acquaintance 
 by observing whether he or slie looked first or 
 most at tlie best or worst leg. Rogers would have 
 forfeited all chance of this gentleman's esteem at 
 starting. Yet there was something irresistibly comic, 
 rather than annoying or repulsive, in the pertinacity 
 and ingenuity with which he indulged his caustic 
 humour. AVe will give a few instances ; but the look 
 the manner, the tone of voice, and the precise em- 
 phasis laid on particular words, cannot be transferred 
 to paper. So uncertain is testimony, and so frail is 
 memory, that even the accuracy of the expressions 
 can rarely be guaranteed. 
 
 " Is that the contents you are looking at ? " in- 
 quired an anxious author, who saw Rogers's eye 
 fixed on a table or list at the commencement of a 
 presentation copy of a new work. " Xo," said Rogers, 
 pointing to the list of subscribers, " the cZwcontents." 
 
 Rogers, as may be believed, was one of the earliest 
 of Landseer's innu)nerable admirers. He was known 
 to have spoken higldy of the picture of a Newfound- 
 land dog, entitled " Portrait of a Distinguished j\Iem- 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 )\ 
 
 ber of the Royal Humane Society." On Landseer 
 expressing his gratification, Rogers said : " Yes, I 
 thought the ring of the dog's collar well painted." 
 
 He was returning from a dinner at House 
 
 with a friend, who began expatiating on the perfec- > 
 
 tion of the hospitality which they had just enjoyed. s 
 
 " Did you observe how he helped the fish? " said 
 Rogers. 
 
 He had lent 800^. to Moore, and as the fact was 
 gratefully bruited about at the time, and is duly 
 recorded in the published Diar}^, there was and is no 
 harm in Rogers's or our allusion to it. " When he 
 repaid me the money," said Rogers, he exclaimed, 
 ' There, thank God, I do not now owe a farthing in the 
 world.' If he had been a prudent man he would 
 have reflected that he had not got a farthing." 
 
 On entering Moore's parlour at Sloperton, and 
 seeing it hung round with engraved portraits of 
 Lord Grey, Lord John Russell, Lord Lansdowne, 
 &c., Rogers remarked, " So, I see you have all your 
 patrons about you." " A good-natured man," charac- 
 teristically observed j\Ioore, when he told the story, 
 " would have said friends." 
 
 "When he was speaking of some one's marriage in 
 his usual tone, he was reminded that the friends of 
 the bridegroom were very much pleased at it. 
 Rogers rephed, " He's a fortunate man then, for 
 his friends are pleased, and his enemies delighted." 
 
 Whenever a disagreeable man, or one whom he 
 disliked, married a pretty Avoman, he would say, 
 " Now we shall have our revenge of him." 
 
 He spoke to Mrs. H. one day of Lady with 
 
 extreme admiration and apparent cordiality ; he then 
 left the room, and Mrs. H. remarked that she had 
 never heard Rogers speak so well of any one before. 
 The door opened, and Rogers thrust in his head with 
 the words, " There are spots on the sun though."
 
 SAMUEL KOGERS. 115 
 
 When a late member for a western county and his 
 wife were stopped by banditti in Italy, Rogers used to 
 
 say, " The banditti wanted to carry off P into 
 
 the mountains ; but she flung her arms round his 
 neck, and rather than take her with them, they let 
 him go." 
 
 This kind of malice was a venial ofi'ence in com- 
 parison with the cross things which he sometimes 
 addressed to people to their faces without the shadow 
 of a provocation ; and it is these which have given rise 
 to so many animated controversies about his goodness 
 of heart. The discussion is strikingly analogous, in 
 one essential quality, to the tilting match touching 
 the colour of a shield. He presented the white side 
 of his disposition to those he liked, and the black side 
 to those he disliked ; both likings and dislikings being 
 often based on no sounder principle than that which 
 proved fatal to Dr. Fell. Hence the fervent abuse 
 of one faction, and the equally fervent laudation 
 of another. Only what his eulogists fail to see, 
 or unfairly refuse to admit, is, that no extent of 
 kindness or courtesy to an object of preference is 
 an excuse for unkindness or discourtesy to an object 
 of antipathy, to say nothing of the social oflence of 
 an annoying or rude remark in company. Good 
 breeding requires delicacy of perception enough to 
 know what is pleasing or displeasing to tliose witli 
 whom we mix, as well as good nature and good 
 temper enougli so to use our knowledge as never to 
 cause an unpleasant feeling or even to revive a dis- 
 agreeable association. Rogers was eminently gifted 
 with the instinctive tact in question, but his use of it 
 varied with his mood ; and there were times when he 
 was both wayward and exacting to an unjustifiable 
 extent, — when all his gentler emotions were " like 
 sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh." 
 
 One of his female favourites had made a little 
 
 I 2
 
 11 G SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 dinner for liim, in wliicb, she fondly hoped, all his 
 tastes and fancies had been consulted. After a 
 glance round the table, he remarked that the fish was 
 out of season. 
 
 At a bachelor dinner where the attendance was 
 scanty, he refused the two or three things that were 
 offered him, till the solitary waiter had left the room. 
 " Won't you eat anything, Mr. Rogers ? " asked the 
 host. " I will take some of that pie'' (pointing to 
 a vol-au-vent) " when there is anybody to give it to 
 me." 
 
 He bitterly repented of these two escapades, when, 
 shortly afterwards, he was left out of a succession of 
 small dinners to punish him, and was told why by 
 one of the presiding beauties. The redeeming feature 
 was that Avhen (as ]Mr. Jarndyce would say) the 
 wind was in the east, he was no respecter of persons, 
 and distributed raps on the knuckles without cere- 
 mony to all alike, to the strong and the weak, the 
 big and the little, the rich and the poor, the proud and 
 the humble. Indeed it is no more than justice to him 
 to say, that he was commonly conciliated by humility, 
 and -Nvas more especially irritated by self-confident 
 people in high health and high spirits, who took 
 their share of the conversation, and forcibly broke 
 in upon the monopoly of attention which he claimed 
 or expected. His sense of humour made Sydney 
 Smith's fun irresistible, and it was his pride to have 
 so distinguished a guest at his table; but there was 
 no love lost between them, and Kogers was all the 
 bitterer in their incidental passages of arms from the 
 consciousness of being (in Spenserian phrase) over- 
 crowed. Thus at a dinner at the late Lord S 's, 
 
 at which both were present, Sydney Smith, by way 
 of falling in with the humour of the company, — 
 mostly composed of Meltonians and patrons of the 
 turf, offered a bet, and added, " If I lose, I will pay 
 
 \
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 117 
 
 at once in a cheque on Kogers, Toogood, and Com- 
 pany," which was then the name of the firm. " And 
 it shall be paid," said Rogers, in his bitterest tone, 
 " every iota of it^^ — alluding to Sydney Smith's 
 supposed reply, much censured for its levity, on 
 being asked whether he believed the whole of the 
 Thirty-nine Articles. When Rogers told the story, 
 he justified himself on the ground that Sydney 
 Smith "meant to take advantasre of their behi": in 
 fine company to run him down as a tradesman." 
 When Sydney Smith mentioned it, he declared that 
 he had fallen into an involuntary error from not 
 calculating on the depths of human weakness, and 
 that the notion of ojivinfi: ofi'ence never so much as 
 crossed his mind. 
 
 It should be added that Rogers had a morbid 
 aversion for what he called " dog and horse men." 
 He had omitted to observe how completely the 
 coarseness and ignorance which was supposed, or at 
 least declared by novelists and dramatists, to mark 
 the country gentlemen of his youth, have been rubbed 
 off and refined away by increased facilities of inter- 
 course and the resulting cultivation of all classes. 
 
 Although a little jealous of Luttrell's superior 
 fashion (of which an instance is given in the " Table 
 Talk," p. 233), Rogers's favourite amongst the wits 
 and talkers in repute was the author of " I^etters to 
 Julia," and the most refined of their common con- 
 temporaries (admitting Sydney Smith's far larger 
 grasp and higher vocation) will approve the selection. 
 There could not be a more agreeable companion 
 than Luttrell, — so light in hand, so graceful in 
 manner, so conciliating in tone and gesture, with 
 such a range of well-chosen topics, and such a fresh, 
 sparkling, and abundant spring of fancy to play upon 
 them. When his poem (nicknamed " Letters from a 
 Dandy to a Dolly ") was published, a crack critic 
 
 I 3
 
 118 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 began a review of it by suggesting that the autlior 
 had, as it were, cut up his gold-egg-laying goose by 
 printing his entire stock in trade as a joker. Never 
 critic made a greater mistake. Luttrell's sources of 
 agreeability were inexhaustible, and they were without 
 alloy. To him belong some of the best mots recorded 
 in " Moore's Diary;" and Rogers accurately described 
 his peculiar manner when he said, " Luttrell is indeed 
 a pleasant companion. None of the talkers whom I 
 meet in London society can slide in a brilliant thing 
 with such readiness as he does." 
 
 Rogers treated Moore much as Johnson treated 
 Goldsmith, — rated him soundly when present for not 
 attending better to his own interests, and did not 
 always spare him when absent, but would suffer no 
 one else to utter a word against him. In allusion to 
 his restlessness, Rogers used to say, " Moore dines in 
 one place, wishing he was dining in another place, 
 with an opera-ticket in his pocket which makes him 
 wish he was dining nowhere." Moore's " Diary " 
 abounds with practical proofs of Rogers's unceasing 
 liberality and unobtrusive charity. It also contains 
 one valuable testimony of a rarer kind : — 
 
 " Rogers stayed more than a week [at Bowood, Dec. 
 1841]. Still fresh in all his faculties, and improved won- 
 derfully in the only point where he ever was deficient, 
 temper. He now gives the natural sweetness of his disposi- 
 tion fair play." 
 
 It appears from one of Moore's letters to Lady 
 Donegal, published in his " Memoirs," that he had 
 suffered severely at a preceding period from Rogers's 
 carping humour and fault-finding propensity, — 
 
 " Rogers and I had a very pleasant tour of it, though I 
 felt throughout it all, as I always feel with him, that the fear 
 of losing his good opinion almost embitters the possession of 
 it, and that, though in his society one walks upon roses, it is
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 119 
 
 with constant apprehension of the thorns that are among 
 them. . . . He has left me rather out of conceit with my 
 poem, ' Lalla Rookh ' (as his fastidious criticism generally 
 does), and I have returned to it with rather an humbled spirit ; 
 but I have already altered my whole plan to please him, and 
 I will do so no more, for I should make as long a voyage of 
 it as his own ' Columbus,' if I attended to all his objections. 
 His general opinion, however, is very flattering : he only 
 finds fault with every part of it in detail ; and this, you know, 
 is the style of his criticism of characters ; — an excellent person, 
 but—." (Aug. 21, 1812; vol. viii. p. 114.) 
 
 '^ Your description of Rogers," replies Lady Donegal, " is 
 too like him. How vexatious it is that a man who has so 
 much the power of pleasing and attaching people to him 
 should mar the gifts of nature so entirely by giving way to 
 that sickly and discontented turn of mind which makes him 
 dissatisfied with everything, and disappointed in all his views 
 of life. Yet he can feel for others ; and notwithstanding this 
 unfortunate habit he has given himself of dwelling upon the 
 fiiults and follies of his friends, he really can feel attachment ; 
 and to you, I am certain, he is attached, though I acknow- 
 ledo^e that the thorn sometimes makes one wish to throw 
 away the roses, and forego the pleasure to avoid the pain. 
 But with all his faults I like him, tiiough I know he spares 
 me no more than any of his other dear friends." — Aug. 28, 
 1812; vol. viii. p. 118. 
 
 Rogers was unceasingly at war with the late Lady 
 D. One day at dinner she called across the table : 
 " Now, I\Ir. Rogers, I am sure you are talking about 
 me " (not attacking, as the current version runs). 
 " Lady D.," was the retort, " I pass my life in de- 
 fending you." 
 
 Although fashion is tolerably discriminating upon 
 the whole, and commonly exacts an entrance-fee in 
 sterling or current coin of some sort (either merit 
 or celebrity) from all who are not born and bred 
 within her hallowed precincts, still individuals may 
 now and then be seen there whose position is as 
 puzzling as that of Pope's fly in amber : — 
 
 I 4
 
 120 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 " The thing wc know is neither rich nor rare, 
 But wonder how the devil it got there." 
 
 For this anomalous species, Rogers professed un- 
 mitigated contempt ; and their usual resource, in- 
 dustrious flattery, was Avorse than wasted on hira. 
 One evening when, leaning on the arm of a friend, 
 he was about to walk home from an evening party, a 
 pretentious gentleman of this description made a des- 
 perate attempt to fasten on them, and prefaced the 
 meditated intrusion by saying that he never liked 
 walking alone. " I should have thought, sir," said 
 Rogers, " that no one was so well satisfied with your 
 company as yourself." 
 
 If he had done no more than check pushing pre- 
 sumption, or expose fawning insignificance, his habi- 
 tual severity of comment would have caused no 
 reflection on his memory; but it became so formidable 
 at one time, that his guests might be seen manoeu- 
 vring which should leave the room last, so as not to 
 undergo the apprehended ordeal ; and it was said of 
 him, with more wit than truth, that he made his way 
 in the world, as Hannibal made his across the Alps, 
 with vinegar. His adoption of a practice at variance 
 with all his avowed theories has been accounted for 
 by the weakness of his voice, which, it was argued, 
 induced him to compel attention by bitterness, — like 
 the backbiters described by Lord Brougham, " who, 
 devoid of force to wield the sword, snatch the dagger, 
 and steep it in venom to make it fester in the 
 scratch." This solution is unjust to Rogers, who 
 was not driven to procure listeners by such means. 
 It, moreover, exaggerates a failing which was com- 
 mon to the wits of his earlier days, both in France 
 and England. Three fourths of the good things at- 
 tributed to Voltaire, Beaumarchais, Chesterfield, 
 Selwyn, Sheridan, Walpole, Wilkes and their con- 
 temporaries, would have found appropriate place in
 
 SAMUEL KOGEUS. 121 
 
 a . 
 
 the " School for Scandal,;" and before condemning 
 Itogers on the evidence of those to whom the black 
 side of his character was most frequently presented, 
 we must hear those whose attention was constantly 
 attracted to the white side. 
 
 One female reminiscent, nurtured and domesticated 
 with genius from her childhood, writes thus : — 
 
 " I knew the kind old man for five and twenty years. 
 I say kind advisedly, because no one did so many kind things 
 to those who, being unable to dig, to beg are ashamed. The 
 sharp sayings were remembered and repeated because they were 
 so clever. There are many as bitter, no one so clever. He 
 was essentially a gentleman, by education, by association, — 
 his manners were perfect. Once, when breakfasting with 
 him, upon taking our seats he called my daughter to his 
 side, thus obliging a young man to leave his place ; feeling 
 that this was not courteous, he said, ' I ask you to move 
 because I love your parents so dearly that I feel as if you 
 were my son.' 
 
 " He not only gave freely and generously, but looked out 
 for occasions of being kind. My father once saw him, and 
 
 he asked after a mutual acquaintance — ' How is K ? ' 
 
 the reply was — ' As well as a man with nine children and 
 a small income can be ;' the next day Mr. Rogers sent hira 
 fifty pounds. A friend once asked him to assist a young 
 man at college ; he gave immediately twenty pounds, and 
 after leaving the house returned to say, ' There is more 
 money to be had from the same place, if wanted ! ' We 
 ought to observe how much all that appears from time to 
 time tells to his credit in the various Memoirs, &c. You 
 find him always a peacemaker, always giving wise counsel, 
 generous and kind." — Private MS. 
 
 The author of " The Winter's Walk," after al- 
 luding to " the keen point of many a famed reply," 
 proceeds : — 
 
 " But by a holler light thy angel reads 
 The unseen records of more gentle deeds, — 
 And by a holier lij^lit thy angel sees 
 The tear oft bhed for humble miseries,
 
 122 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 Th' indulgent hour of kindness stol'n away 
 From the free leisure of thy well-spent day, 
 For some poor struggling son of Genius, bent 
 Under the weight of heartsick discontent. 
 
 And by that light's soft radiance I review 
 
 Thy unpretending kindness, calm and true, 
 
 Not to me only ; but in bitterest hours 
 
 To one whom Heaven endowed with varied powers. 
 
 • • • « • 
 
 By sorrow weakened, by disease unnerved, 
 Faithful at least the friend he had not served : 
 For the same voice essayed that hour to cheer 
 AVhich now sounds welcome to his grandchild's ear ; 
 And the same hand, to aid that life's decline, 
 Whose gentle clasp so late was linked in mine." 
 
 Few readers can require to be reminded of the closing 
 scenes in the " Life of Sheridan," when Rogers ad- 
 vanced 150/. (not the first of the same amount, says 
 the biographer) to procure the expiring orator the 
 poor privilege of dying undisturbed. 
 
 " Oh, it sickens the heart to see bosoms so hollow, 
 
 And friendships so cold, in the great and highborn ; 
 To think what a long list of titles may follow 
 
 Tiie relics of him who died friendless and lorn. 
 How proud they can flock to the funeral array 
 
 Of one whom they shunned in his sickness and sorrow, 
 How bailiffs may seize Ids last blanket to-day 
 
 Whose pall shall be held up by nobles to-morrow." 
 
 But it cheers the heart to see one neither great nor 
 highborn stepping forward to prevent that last blanket 
 from being seized ; and, " in the train of all this 
 phalanx of Dukes, Marquises, Earls, Viscounts, Barons, 
 Honourables, Right Honcurables, Princes of the Blood, 
 and First Officers of the State, it was not a little in- 
 teresting to see walking humbly, side by side, the 
 only two men who had not waited for the call of 
 vanity to display itself, — Dr. Bain and Mr. Rogers."* 
 
 When some one complained in Thomas Campbell's 
 hearing, that Rogers said spiteful things : " Borrow 
 
 * IMoore's "Life of Sheridan." 
 
 fl
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 123 
 
 five hundred pounds of him," was the comment, ** and 
 he will never sa}^ one word against you until you 
 want to repay him." He told a lady (the reminiscent 
 before quoted) that Campbell borrowed 500/., upon 
 the plea that if he had that sum, it would do him a 
 Sfood service.* Three weeks afterwards he brou2:ht 
 back the money, saying that he found it would not be 
 prudent to risk it. " At this time," added Rogers, 
 " I knew that he was every day pressed for small 
 sums." 
 
 Here is an exemplarily kind action followed up by 
 unexceptionably kind words. We could fill pages 
 with other well-authenticated instances of his consi- 
 derate generosity. They have come to light gradually ; 
 and it is a remarkable fact that, whilst he was an- 
 nually giving away large sums, his name figured 
 little in subscription lists. He may (as we have 
 heard objected) have been acting all along rather 
 from calculation than from impulsiveness, from head 
 not heart. He may have been following Paley's 
 counsel, who recommends us to cultivate our better 
 feelings by almsgiving, if only with a view to our own 
 self-complacency. Or he may have been simply more 
 fortunate in his experimental benevolence than the 
 nobleman who, on being advised to try doing a little 
 good by way of a new pleasure, replied that he had 
 tried it already and found no pleasure in it. To 
 what does this analysis of motive a la Rochefoucauld 
 amount after all? Surely, to seek and find happiness 
 in doing good, is to be good. Admitting that the 
 mere voluptuary, and the general benefactor, have 
 each the same end, self, — still the difi^erence in the 
 means employed constitutes a sufficiently wide and 
 marked distinction between the two. When we have 
 calmly computed how much good might be done daily, 
 how much ha])piness diffused, without the sacrifice of 
 
 * This is the loan mentioned in Moore's "[Memoirs," vol. vii.
 
 124 SAMUEL llOGEKS. 
 
 a wish or caprice, without the interruption of a habit, 
 by thousands of the richer classes who never turn 
 aside to aid the needy or elevate the lowly, — when 
 we have done this, we shall then be in a fitting frame 
 of mind for estimating the superiority of a man who 
 had arrived at just conclusions regarding the real uses 
 of wealth, and acted on them. 
 
 " Sir," said Adams, " my definition of charity is, a 
 generous disposition to relieve the distressed." "There 
 is something in that definition," answered Mr. Peter 
 Pounce, " which I like well enough ; it is, as you say, 
 a disposition, and does not so much consist in the act 
 as in the disposition to do it." There are plenty of 
 Peter Pounces in our society. What ^ e want are 
 the Allworthys, or the worldly philosophers, on 
 whose tombstones may be read without provoking a 
 smile of irony : " What I spent, 1 had ; what I gave, 
 I have; what I saved, I lost." We commend this 
 epitaph to the attention of the millionaire who has 
 been accused of wishing to invest the accumulations 
 of more than half a century in one big bank-note and 
 carry it out of the world with him. AVhen (see 
 "Table Talk," p. 51) Lord Erskine heard that some- 
 body had died worth 200,000/., he observed, " Well, 
 that's a very pretty sum to begin the next world 
 with." Kogers had reserved for the next world just 
 one eighth of that sum, exclusive of the contents of 
 his house, — not enouirh, had his income from the 
 Bank failed, to enable him to enjoy the comforts 
 which age, infirmity, and confirmed habits had made 
 necessary to him in this. 
 
 He bore the robbery of his Bank, which might have 
 led to very serious consequences, with great equa- 
 nimity, and said it had done him good, — by the chas- 
 tening effect of adversity, and by bringing out the 
 good qualities of his friends. It was after repeating 
 Pope's line, — 
 
 " Bare the mean heart that beats beneath a star,"
 
 SAMUEL ROGEES. 125 
 
 that he one day mentioned, by way of qualification, 
 the munificence and promptitude with which noble 
 as well as simple had hurried to aid and sympathise 
 with him. One peer is said to have placed 100,000/. 
 at his disposal. 
 
 The best accessible specimens of his epistolary 
 style will be found in the eighth volume of " Moore's 
 Memoirs," edited by Lord John Kussell, who says 
 that Rogers himself selected those of his letters which 
 were to be published. They are evidently written 
 with the scrupulous care which marks everything he 
 undertook ; and we will answer for it that his love- 
 letters, should they ever come to light, will bear 
 internal evidence of having been composed on a 
 diametrically opposite principle to that recommended 
 by Rousseau, who says that the writer should begin 
 without knowing what he is going to say and end 
 without knowinc: what he has said. Three or four of 
 Ro2:ers's letters relate to " Columbus." He writes to 
 consult Moore as to which of sundr}' very ordinary 
 verses is the best, telling him, on one occasion, that 
 half of a particular line has received the sanction of 
 Sharp and Mackintosh, and anxiously requiring to be 
 informed if he agreed with them. 
 
 One of the most pleasing of these compositions is 
 that (p. 95) in which he gives an account of the 
 family of a brother who had retired from the Bank 
 %vith an ample fortune, and was really living the life 
 of rural enjoyment which the poet afiected to think 
 the acme of felicity. In another (p. 71) ) he avows a 
 confirmed dislike to letter- writino:. The notes wliicli 
 he wrote in the common commerce of the Avorld are 
 models of conciseness and calligraphy. If ever hand- 
 writing corresponded with and betrayed character, it 
 was his; — neat, clear, and yet not devoid of elegance. 
 " Will you breakfiist with me to-morrow ? S. R.," 
 was his pithy invitation to a celebrated wit and beauty. 
 " Won't I? H. D.," was the congenial response.
 
 126 SAMUEL KOGERS. 
 
 There is no good likeness of liirn. The fact is, he 
 would never allow one to be taken. He preferred 
 that by Lawrence, because it was the most flattering. 
 There is one designed and drawn on stone by an 
 amateur artist (Lady j\Iorgan's niece, Mrs. Geale) in 
 1838, which would have been excellent, had she 
 ventured to give him his actual age at the time. 
 Dantan's caricature bust is hardly a caricature, and 
 for that very reason he held it in horror. One day 
 Moore was indiscreet or malicious enough to say that 
 a fresh stock had been sent over, and that he had 
 seen one in a shop window. " It is pleasant news," said 
 Itogers ; " and pleasant to be told of it by a friend." 
 
 The accident which deprived him of the power of 
 locomotion was the severest of trials to a man of his 
 active habits and still extraordinary strength ; for 
 he delighted in walking, and thought his health 
 depended u^jon the exercise he took in this way. Not 
 lono; before, he had boasted of having: had a breakfast 
 party at home, — then gone to a wedding breakfast, 
 where he returned thanks for the bridesmaids, — then 
 to Chiswick, where he was presented to an imperial 
 highness, — dined out, — gone to the Opera, — looked 
 in at a ball, and walked home, — all within the compass 
 of fourteen hours. "When I first saw him after his 
 fall," writes the lady already quoted, " I found him 
 lying on his bed, which was drawn near the bed-room 
 window, that he might look upon the Park. Taking 
 my hand, he kissed it, and I felt a tear drop on it, 
 and that was all the complaint or regret that he ever 
 expressed. Never did he allude to it to me, nor, I 
 believe, to any one." 
 
 One day, between six and seven, when he was just 
 going to dinner, hearing a knock at the door, he 
 desired his faithful and attached servant, Edmund, to 
 say, not at home. " Who was it ? " he inquired. E. 
 
 "Colonel , sir." R. " And who is Colonel ?" 
 
 E. " The gentleman who upset you, sir, and caused
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 127 
 
 your accident." JR. " It is an agreeable recollection, 
 did he come to refresh it?" E. "Oh, sir, he calls 
 very often to inquire for you." R. " Does he? then, 
 if he calls again, don't let hiin in, and don't tell me of 
 it" The gallant officer was (at worst) the innocent 
 cause of the mishap ; for as his brougham was passing 
 at an ordinary pace, Rogers, who was about to cross, 
 suddenly checked himself, lost his balance, and fell 
 with his hip against the kerb-stone. 
 
 He used to say that he had never enjoyed two con- 
 secutive days' good health till he was past fifty; 
 and he rather coveted than avoided allusions to his 
 age. On one occasion, in his eighty-eighth year, he 
 was accidentally left alone in the dark with a lady, 
 who pretended to think her reputation in danger. 
 " Ah, my dear, if sweet seventy-eight would come 
 again ! mais ces beaux jours sont passes ^ 
 
 He told gracefully, with his usual deliberate sim- 
 plicity and studied artlessness, a little incident of 
 the same period. "They were playing at forfeits. 
 Miss S. had to pay a kiss. ' Oh, it was to my uncle ; 
 so I paid it gladly.' ' Suppose it had been to me?' 'I 
 should have paid it cheerfully.' Was not that a bitter- 
 and-sweet adverb ? " 
 
 When some one was speaking of a fine old man 
 before Swift, he exclaimed, in a spirit of melancholy 
 foreboding, " There's no such thing as a fine old 
 man ; if either his head or his heart had been worth 
 anything, they would have worn him out long ago." 
 Till near ninety, Rogers was a striking exception to 
 this rule. He then gradually dropped into that 
 state, mental and bodily, which raises a reasonable 
 doubt whether prolonged life be a blessing or a 
 curse — 
 
 " Omni 
 Tkrembroruni danino major dementia, qua; ncc 
 Nomina servorum, nee vultus agnoscit amicum, 
 Cum queis prajterita ccenavit noctc, ncc illos 
 Quos genuit, quos eduxit."
 
 128 SAMUEL ROGERS. 
 
 Although his impressions of long past events were 
 as fresh as ever, he forgot the names of his relations 
 and oldest friends whilst they were sitting with him, 
 and told the same stories to the same people two or 
 three times over in the same interview. But there 
 were frequent glimpses of intellect in all its original 
 brightness, of tenderness, of refinement, and of grace. 
 " Once driving out with him," says a female corre- 
 spondent, " I asked him after a lady whom he could 
 not recollect. He pulled the check-string, and ap- 
 pealed to his servant. ' Do I know Lady M ? ' 
 
 The reply was, ' Yes, sir.' This was a painful mo- 
 ment to us both. Taking ray hand, he said, ' Never 
 mind, my dear, I am not yet reduced to stop the 
 carriage and ask if I know you.'' " 
 
 To another female friend, who was driving out 
 with him shortly after, he said, " Whenever you are 
 angry with one 3^ou love, think that that dear one 
 might die that moment. Your anger will vanish at 
 once." 
 
 During the last four or five years he was constantly 
 expatiating on the advantages of marriage. " It was 
 a proud, a blessed privilege," he would repeat, " to 
 be ihe means, under Providence, of clothing an im- 
 mortal soul in clay." He introduced and pursued 
 this theme without respect to persons, and not un- 
 frequently recommended matrimony to married people 
 who would have lent a readier ear to a proposal of 
 separation or divorce. In explanation of the rumours 
 circulated from time to time in his younger days 
 respecting his own attempts to confirm precept by 
 example, he said, " that whenever his name had been 
 coupled with that of a single lady, he had thought it 
 his duty to give out that he had been refused." On 
 his regretting that he had not married, because then 
 he sliould have had a nice woman to care for him, it 
 was suggested, — " How do you know she would not
 
 SAMUEL ROGERS. 129 
 
 have cared for somebody else ? " — an awkward doubt 
 at all times. 
 
 His own version of his nearest approximation to 
 the nuptial tie was, that, when a young man, he 
 admired and sedulously sought the society of the 
 most beautiful girl he then, and still, thought he had 
 ever seen. At the end of the London season, at a 
 ball, she said : " I go to-morrow to Worthing. Are 
 you coming there ? " He did not go. Some months 
 afterwards, being at Ranelagh, he saw the attention 
 of every one drawn towards a large party, in the centre 
 of which was a lady on the arm of her husband. 
 Stepping forward to see this wonderful beauty, he 
 found it was his love. She merely said : " You never 
 came to Worthing." 
 
 He latterly took great delight in hearing the Bible 
 read, especially passages of the sublimest poetry, and 
 those of exquisite moral beauty. This kind office 
 was frequently performed for him by a lady as much 
 distinguished by her private virtues as formerly by 
 qualities which enchanted the public. In the course 
 of religious conversation arising out of her readings, 
 she suggested to him the subject of the Sacrament. 
 After due consideration, he expressed himself desirous 
 of receiving it from his old friend, the Dean of St. 
 Paul's. The Dean, after some conference with him, 
 consented to his request, and accordingly administered 
 the sacramental rite to Itogers, his sister (then, like 
 her brother, in a state of great bodily infirmity), the 
 lady above alluded to, her daughter, and one other 
 person for whom he expressed very sincere aifection. 
 
 In the case of most men over whom the grave had 
 closed so recently, we should have refrained from 
 such minuteness of personal detail, however curious 
 or illustrative. But the veil had been removed from 
 the private life of Rogers long before we approached 
 the sanctuary ; and we are not responsible for the 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 SAMUEL HOGERS. 
 
 profanation, if it be one. His habits, his mode of 
 life, his predilections, his aversions, his caustic say- 
 ings, his benevolent actions, have been treated like 
 common property as far back as the living generation 
 can remember. They have been discussed in all 
 circles, and have occasionally appeared (with varyinf]^ 
 degrees of accuracy) in print. Now that monarchs 
 have left off changing their shirts at crowded levees^ 
 we should be puzzled to name any contemporary 
 celebrity who, whether he liked it or not, had been so 
 much or so constantly before the public as Rogers. He 
 knew everybody, and everybody knew him. Pie spoke 
 without reserve to the first comer, and the chance 
 visitor was admitted to his intimacy as unwarily as 
 the tried friend. This argued a rare degree of con- 
 scious rectitude and honourable self-reliance ; and in 
 estimating his character, in balancing the final ac- 
 count of his merits and demerits, too much stress 
 cannot be laid on the searching nature of the ordeal 
 he has undergone. Choose out the wisest, brightest, 
 noblest of mankind, and how many of them could 
 bear to be thus pursued into the little corners of 
 their lives ? — " all their faults observed, set in a note- 
 book, learned and conned by rote ? " Most assuredly, 
 if the general scope and tendency of their conduct be 
 no worse, they may, one and all, — to borrow the im- 
 pressive language of Erskine, — " walk through the 
 shadow of death, with all their faults about them, 
 with as much cheerfulness as in the comnion path of 
 life." But if great virtues may not atone for small 
 frailties, or kind deeds for unkind words, " they must 
 call upon the mountains to cover them, for which of 
 them can present, for Omniscient examination, a pure, 
 unspotted, and faultless course ? "
 
 131 
 
 JAMES SMITH. 
 
 (From the Law Magazine, Februart, 1840.) 
 
 The members who do most honour to the legal pro- 
 fession are not those who make its distinctions and 
 emoluments their sole object, — for they often cut a 
 sorry figure beyond its sphere, — but those who com- 
 bine with the dilio-ent and conscientious discharo-e of 
 its duties a fair proportion of the acquirements or 
 qualities which are appreciated in society. Amongst 
 the most remarkable of such men was the late James 
 Smith, and we feel it a duty to record the few par- 
 ticulars we have been able to collect concernins: him. 
 
 He was the son of an eminent soUcitor, and born 
 in London, February IGtli, 1775. In January, 1785, 
 he was placed at school with the Rev. Mr. Burford, 
 at Chigwell, in Essex, which he left in June, 1789, for 
 the New College at Hackney, where he remained one 
 year. His education was completed under Mr. Wano- 
 strocht, at Alfred House, Camberwell. He was 
 articled to his father in 1792, and in due time taken 
 into partnership. He was also appointed joint- 
 solicitor to the Ordnance Board, and succeeded to the 
 sole appointment on his father's death in 1832. 
 
 We rather think, from his description, that his father 
 was a practitioner of the old school, not very tolerant 
 of digressions from the beaten track, and likely 
 enough to regard either or both of his distinguished 
 sons as — 
 
 " Some youth his parents' wishes doomed to cross, 
 AVho pens a stanza when he should engross." 
 
 But the old gentleman had sufficient respect for 
 
 K 2
 
 132 
 
 JAMES SMITH. 
 
 literature to point out Dr. Johuson to his son James, 
 wlio, tlioitgli lie could not have been more than 
 eight years old at the time, retained a vivid recol- 
 lection of the circumstance — Virgilium tantum vidi. 
 
 To the best of our information, James's coup d'essai 
 in literature was a hoax in the shape of a series of 
 letters to the editor of the " Gentleman's Magazine," 
 detailing some extraordinary antiquarian discoveries 
 and facts in natural historj^, Avhich the worthy Syl- 
 vanus Urban inserted without the least suspicion ; 
 and we understand that the members of the Anti- 
 quarian and Zoological Societies are still occasionally 
 in the habit of appealing to them in corroboration of 
 their theories. In 1803, he became a constant con- 
 tributor to the "Pic-Nic" and " Cabinet" weekly jour- 
 nals, in conjunction with Mr. Cumberland, Sir James 
 Bland Burgess, Mr. Horatio Smith, and others. The 
 founder of these pubhcations was Colonel Greville, 
 a man of famil}^, fashion, and cultivated taste, on 
 Avhora Lord Byron has conferred a not very enviable 
 immortality — 
 
 " Or bail at once the patron and the pile 
 Of vice and folly, Greville and Argyle." . 
 
 One of James Smith's favourite anecdotes related to 
 him. The Colonel requested his young ally to call at 
 his lodgings, and in the course of their first interview 
 related the particulars of the most curious circum- 
 stance in his life. He was taken prisoner during 
 the American war, along with three other officers of 
 the same rank : one evening they were summoned 
 into the presence of Washington, who announced to 
 them that the conduct of their government, in con- 
 demning one of his officers to death as a rebel, com- 
 pelled him to make reprisals, and that much to his 
 regret he was under the necessity of requiring them 
 to cast lots without delay to decide which of them
 
 JAMES SMITH. 13 
 
 o 
 
 should be hanged. They were then bowed out, and 
 returned to their quarters. Four slips of paper were 
 put into a hat, and the shortest was drawn by Captain 
 Asgill, who exclaimed, " I knew how it would be ; I 
 never won so much as a hit at backgammon in my 
 life." As Greville told the story, he was selected to sit 
 up with Captain Asgill, under the pretext of compa- 
 nionship, but in reality to prevent him from escaping, 
 and leaving the honour amongst the remaining three. 
 "And what," inquired Smith, "did you say to comfort 
 him ? " " Why I remember saying to him when they 
 left us, '•Hang it, old fellow, never mind ; ' " but it may 
 be doubted (added Smith) whether he drew much 
 comfort from the exhortation. Lady Asgill persuaded 
 the French minister to interpose, and the captain was 
 permitted to escape. 
 
 Both James and Horatio Avere also contributors 
 to the " ]\Ionthly Mirror," then the property of 
 Mr. Thomas Hill, a gentleman who had the good 
 fortune to live familiarly with three or four gene- 
 rations of authors; the same, in short, with whom 
 the subject of this memoir thus playfully remon- 
 strated : " Hill, you take an unfair advantage of 
 an accident ; the register of your birth was burnt in 
 the great fire of London, and you now give yourself 
 out for younger than you are." Their " Imitations of 
 Horace " (afterwards reprinted in a separate volume) 
 originally appeared in Hill's miscellany. 
 
 The fame of the brothers was confined to a limited 
 circle until the publication of " The Rejected Ad- 
 dresses," which rose at once into almost unprecedented 
 celebrity, and still keeps its place amongst the best of 
 the jeux d^esprit which have outlived the occasions 
 which gave rise to them, — as the " lloUiad," "Anti- 
 cipation," the choice papers of the "Antijacobin," and 
 the " New Whig Guide." 
 
 It is a well-known fact in literary history that many 
 
 K 3
 
 134 
 
 JAMES SMITH. 
 
 of the most popular productions failed at first to 
 attract the confidence or excite the cupidity of " the 
 trade." "Pelhani " was on the point of being returned 
 upon the writer's hands, when Mr. Colburn chanced 
 to glance over a few pages of the manuscript, and 
 with instinctive sagacity divined the value of the 
 prize. " The Rejected Addresses " (as the preface to 
 the nineteenth edition informs us) had been rejected 
 over and over again in the literal acceptation of the 
 term, when Mr. Miller offered to undertake the risk 
 of publication, and share the profits, if any — laying 
 (as James Smith used to say) a peculiar stress upon 
 the if. At the appearance of the third. or fourth 
 edition, they sold their share to the same publisher 
 for one thousand pounds, the "Imitations of Horace" 
 being thrown into the bargain : for these, though clever, 
 can hardly be said to have enjoyed an independent 
 reputation or done more than follow in the wake. 
 
 Lord Byron, in allusion to the rapid success of 
 " Childe Harold," says, " I awoke and found myself 
 famous ; " (which, by the way, a witty runaway wife 
 parodied by saying, " I awoke and found myself in- 
 famous.") The authors of " The Rejected Addresses " 
 might have said the same. Within a week, reviews 
 and newspapers of all shades and complexions were 
 praising their production, or speculating on their 
 identity ; and the moment they threw off the mask, 
 their acquaintance was eagerly courted by the nota- 
 bilities of the day. Amongst others, the Dowager 
 Countess of Cork — the first English woman of rank 
 who threw open her house to literature, or made in- 
 tellectual distinction a recognised passport to society 
 — was anxious to have them at her soirees, and com- 
 missioned one of the established lions to bring them. 
 Whether the commission was awkwardly executed, or 
 their pride took alarm too readily, or the occasion for 
 a joke was too tempting to be lost, it is currently
 
 JAMES SMITH. 135 
 
 reported that an answer to the following purport was 
 returned : — 
 
 " My dear , — Pray make our best excuses to your 
 
 noble and hospitable friend, and say we regret extremely that 
 it will not be in our power to accept the flattering invitation 
 so obligingly communicated through you, for my brother is 
 engaged to grin through a horse-collar at a country fair, and 
 1 myself to dance a hornpipe at Sadler's Wells upon that night. 
 
 " Very truly yours, 
 
 « J. Smith." * 
 
 Many of the very writers who were parodied 
 hastened to bear testimony to the accuracy of the 
 imitations, and joined heartily in the laugh. 
 
 Lord Byron wrote from Italy to Mr. Murray, — 
 " Tell him we forgive him, were he twenty times our 
 satirist." 
 
 " I certainly must have written this myself," said 
 Sir Walter Scott, pointing to the description of the 
 fire, " although I forget upon what occasion." 
 
 Crabbe, on being introduced to James Smith at Mr. 
 Spencer's villa at Richmond, seized both his hands, 
 and exclaimed with a loud laugh, " Ah ! my old 
 enemy, how do you do ? " 
 
 The introduction to Mr. Spencer himself is thus 
 described in the preface already mentioned : — 
 
 " Lydia White, a literary lady, who was prone to feed the 
 lions of the day, invited one of us to dinner ; but, recollect- 
 ing afterwards that William Spencer formed one of the party, 
 wrote to the latter to put him off; telling him that a man 
 was to be at her table whom he ' would not like to meet.' 
 ' Pray who is this whom I should not like to meet,' inquired the 
 poet. * O 1 ' answered the lady, ' one of those men who have 
 made that shameful attack upon you ! ' * The very man upon 
 earth I should like to know ! ' rejoined the lively and careless 
 bard. The two individuals accordingly met, and have con- 
 tinued fast friends ever since." 
 
 * Mr. H. Smith tells us that the leUer was never sent. 
 
 K 4
 
 136 
 
 JAMES SMITH. 
 
 Still Mr. Spencer did not above half like it. " It's 
 all very well for once," he subsequently remarked, 
 "but don't do it a";ain. I had been almost forf^fotten 
 when you revived me ; and now all the newspapers 
 and reviews ring with ' this fashionable trashy 
 author.' " 
 
 Fitzgerald, one of those most broadly burlesqued *, 
 met James Smith at an anniversary dinner of the 
 Literary Fund : — 
 
 Fitzgerald (with good humour). — " Mr. Smith, I mean to 
 recite after dinner." 
 
 Mr. Smith.—" Do you ? " 
 
 Fitzgerald. — " Yes ; you'll have more of ' God bless the 
 Regent and the Duke of York.' " 
 
 Monk Lewis became the friend of the authors, but 
 never could be got to admit the truth of the imitation 
 in his own case. " Many of them," was his remark 
 to Lady Holland, " are very fair, but mine is not at 
 all like ; they have made me write burlesque, which I 
 never do." " You don't know your own talent," 
 was the consolatory reply. 
 
 On the whole, the only discontented persons were 
 the poets who were left out. 
 
 James Smith used to dwell with much pleasure on 
 the criticism of a Leicestershire clergyman : " I do 
 not see why they should have been rejected : I think 
 some of them very good." This, he would add, is 
 almost as good as the avowal of the Irish bishop, that 
 there were some things in " Gulliver's Travels" which 
 he could not believe. 
 
 We have often heard him asked whether he could 
 identify his own share of the composition, but he 
 
 He must have got used to it : — 
 
 " Let hoarse Fitzgerald bawl 
 
 His creaking couplets in a tavern hall." 
 
 English Bards and Scotch Reoiewers.
 
 JAMES SMITH. 137 
 
 generally evaded the inquiry by declaring the publi- 
 cation to be strictly joint, — d-propos of which he gave 
 us Sheridan's account of his own and his first wife's 
 labours on their first arrival in town : " We composed 
 together, and our labours might well be called joint, 
 for we had no chance of a joint till they were com- 
 pleted." Every now and then, however, he would allude 
 to particular passages as his own, and, by Mr. Horatio 
 Smith's kindness, we are now enabled to give the 
 long desiderated information regarding the authorship. 
 The notion was first started by a gentleman con- 
 nected with the theatres (not the actor) named Ward, 
 christened Portsoken Ward by H. Smith, from his 
 fondness for port. They took different authors, wrote 
 their papers apart, and then submitted them to each 
 other ; but the subsequent alterations seldom exceeded 
 verbal improvements or the addition of a few lines. 
 
 By James Smith. 
 
 2. The Baby's Debut. By W. W. (Wordsworth.) 
 5. Hampshire Farmer's Address. By W. C. 
 
 (Cobbett.) 
 
 7. The Rebuilding. By W. S. (Southey.) 
 
 13. Playhouse Musings. By S. T. C. (Coleridge.) 
 
 14. Drury Lane Hustings: A New Halfpenny 
 Ballad. By a Pic~Nic Poet (a quiz on what are 
 called humorous songs). 
 
 16. Tlieatrical Alarm Bell. By the editor of the 
 M. P. ("Morning Post.") 
 
 17. The Theatre. By the Ptev. G. C. (Crabbe.) 
 
 18. 19, 20. Macbeth; George Barnwell; and the 
 Stranger, Travesties. 
 
 By Horatio Smith. 
 
 1. Loyal Effusions. By W. T. F. (Fitzgerald.) 
 
 3. An Address without a Phoenix. By S. T. P. 
 (this was a real address sent in by the writer).
 
 138 
 
 JAMES SMITH. 
 
 4. Cui Bono ? By Lord B. (Byron) — except the 
 first stanza, which was written by James. 
 6. The Living Lustres. By T. M. (Moore.) 
 
 8. Drury's Dirge. By L. M. (Laura Matilda.) 
 
 9. A Tale of Drury Lane. By W. S. (Scott.) 
 
 10. Johnson's Ghost. 
 
 11. The Beautiful Incendiary. By the Hon. AY. S. 
 (Spencer.) 
 
 12. Fire and Ale. By M. G. L. (Lewis.) 
 
 15. Architectural Atoms. By Dr. B. (Busby.) 
 21. Punch's Apotheosis. By T. H. 
 A note to the last article runs thus: — 
 
 " Theodore Hook, at that time a very yoUng man, and 
 the companion of the author in many wild frolics. The 
 cleverness of his subsequent prose compositions has cast his 
 early stage songs into oblivion. This parody was, in the 
 second edition, transferred from Colman to Hook." 
 
 It was so transferred, because Colman was ex- 
 ceedingly annoyed, and Hook, it is well known, would 
 laugh at it. We cannot discover the slightest re- 
 semblance to either. 
 
 The numbers in the lists correspond with those in 
 the table of contents of the last and best edition, 
 published by Mr. Murray in 1839.* The preface 
 was written by Horatio, and the notes by James. 
 
 " To one of us," it is stated in the preface, " the 
 totally unexpected success of this little work proved 
 an important event, since it mainly decided him some 
 years afterwards to embark in that literary career 
 Avhich the continued favour of the novel-reading 
 public has rendered both pleasant and profitable to 
 him." Mr. Horatio Smith, the author of "Brambletye 
 House," "Zillah," and other popular works of fiction, is 
 
 * Mr. Murray gave 131^. for the copyright in 1819, after the IGth 
 edition. He has since published three editions, and sold nearly four 
 thousand copies.
 
 JAMES SMITH. 139 
 
 the member of the brotherhood who speaks here. 
 James, though he felt proud of his brother's increas- 
 ing reputation*, doggedly adhered to his favourite 
 maxim, that when a man has once made a good hit, 
 he should rest upon it, — a maxim Avhich he was wont 
 to strengthen by Bishop Warburton's authority. 
 When Anster, the author of the " Bath Guide," was 
 presented to the veteran, he said, " Young man, I 
 will give you a piece of advice : you have written a 
 highly successful work — never put pen to paper 
 again." 
 
 At the same time he was obli2:ed to own that a 
 man's reputation might require an occasional burnish- 
 ing, and would humorously illustrate the limited and 
 ephemeral nature of fame by an incident that once 
 happened to himself in a Brighton coach. An old 
 lady, struck by his extraordinary familiarity with 
 things and people, at length burst forth, — "And pray, 
 sir, you who seem to know everybody — pray, may I 
 ask who you are ?" " James Smith, ma'am." This 
 evidently conveyed nothing to her mind, and a fellow- 
 passenger added, " One of the authors of ' Rejected 
 Addresses.' " The old lady stared at them by turns, 
 and then ejaculated, " I never heard of the gentleman 
 or the book before." 
 
 He considered it no breach of his maxim to con- 
 tribute occasionally to the lighter periodical publica- 
 tions, or to assist his friend Mathews in the concoction 
 of his entertainments. Most of the best songs of the 
 great comedian were from his pen.f Brevity, how- 
 ever, whatever it may be with others, was certainly 
 the soul of wit with him ; and the only article of any 
 length we remember from his pen — a critique of 
 some cookery books, written for a review started on 
 
 * He used to say to Horatio : " I am often coniplinionted on your 
 writings, but podplc don't like to bo contradicted, and so I lot it pass." 
 t See Mrs. Mathews's '' Lilo ol" Mathews " on this subject.
 
 140 
 
 JAMES SMITH. 
 
 a new plan by Mr. Cumberland — was a comparative 
 failure, notwithstanding the obvious fitness of the 
 subject for pleasantry. 
 
 He was also frequently applied to by dramatic 
 writers for a comic song, a hit at the follies of the 
 day, or other assistance of the kind, which was alwaj's 
 readily afforded, and generally proved eminently 
 useful to the piece. The interest thus taken in 
 theatrical matters naturally led to his being made 
 free of the green-room ; and he used to relate an 
 incident curiously illustrative of the morals of the 
 stage twenty or thirty years ago. An actress of 
 note one night addressed him thus: "JMr. Smith, 
 you are constantly here, but you do not appear 
 to attach yourself to any of our ladies." " Ah, 
 madam," was the reply, " that proves my discretion ; 
 you little know what is going on in private between 
 me and some of you." 
 
 From the commencement of the " New ]\Ionthly 
 Magazine," in 1821, he was a frequent contributor. 
 His " Grimm's Ghost " in particular attracted much 
 attention ; and a collection of his papers, under the 
 title of "East andAYest," was once advertised by Mr. 
 Colburn, though the intention was subsequently 
 abandoned. 
 
 His social qualities were those which will live the 
 longest in the recollection of his friends ; for he was 
 one of the pleasantest companions imaginable, and 
 it was difficult to pass an evening in his company 
 without feeling in better humour with the world; such 
 was the influence of his inexhaustible funds of amuse- 
 ment and information, his lightness, livehness, .and 
 good sense. He was not very witty or brilliant, nor 
 even very ready at repartee. Indeed we are pretty 
 sure that most of the best things recorded of him 
 were imjoromptus faits a loisir ; but no man ever 
 excelled him in starting pleasant topics of conversa-
 
 JAMES SMITH. 141 
 
 tion, and sustaining it ; nor was it well possible for a 
 party of moderate dimensions, when he was of it, to 
 be dull. The droll anecdote, the apt illustration, the 
 shrewd remark, — a trait of humour from Fiel;.ing, a 
 scrap of a song from the " Beggars' Opera," a knock- 
 down retort of Johnson's, a couplet from Pope or 
 Dryden, — all seemed to come as they were wanted, 
 and, as he was always just as ready to listen as to 
 talk, acted each in turn as a sort of challenge 
 to the company to bring forth their budgets and 
 contribute towards the feast. As Scott says of Rash- 
 leigh Osbaldistone, " he was never loud, never over- 
 bearing, never so much occupied with his own 
 thoughts as to outrun either the patience or tlie 
 comprehension of those he conversed with. His 
 ideas succeeded each other with the gentle but unin- 
 termitting flow of a plentiful and bounteous spring, 
 whilst others who aim at distinction in conversation, 
 rush along like tlie turbid gush from the sluice of a 
 millpond, as liurried and as easily exhausted." 
 
 His gentleman-like manners and fine person — set 
 off by strict attention to his dress — added not a little 
 to the efi'ect; and as he disliked argument, and never 
 lost his temper or willingly gave offence, it would 
 have been no easy matter for others to lose theirs or 
 offend him. His memory was prodigious, but it was 
 principally stored with the choicest morsels from the 
 standard English poets, comic writers, and dramatists 
 (wliich formed his favourite reading), and like ]Mack- 
 intosh, as described by Mr. Sydney Smitli, he so 
 managed it as to make it a source of pleasure and 
 instruction rather tlian " that dreadful engine of col- 
 loquial oppression into which it is sometimes erected." 
 Of late years he was occasionally accused of repeating 
 his favourite stories and epigrams too often, but they 
 were generally new to some persons in the company, 
 and most of them were of such a nature as a cultivated
 
 142 JAMES SMITH. 
 
 mind always recurs to with delight — decies repetita 
 placebujit. He had a good ear for music, and voice 
 enouo;h to sino' his own sono-s with full effect. 
 
 AVe need hardly state that, long after the first flush 
 of his celebrity, he was a welcome guest in the best 
 houses, town and country. Latterly, however, he 
 seldom left town except on occasional visits to Mr. 
 H. Smith, at Brighton ; Mr. Croker, at Moulsey ; and 
 Lord Abinger, at Abinger Hall. Though never guilty 
 of intemperance, he was a martyr to the gout ; and 
 independently of the difficulty he experienced in 
 locomotion, he partook largely of the feeling avowed 
 by his old friend Jekyll, who used to say that, if com- 
 pelled to live in the country, he would have the drive 
 l3efore his house paved like the streets of London, 
 and hire a hackney coach to drive up and down all 
 day long. 
 
 He used to tell with great glee a story showing the 
 general conviction of his dislike to ruralities. He was 
 sitting in the library at a country-house, when a 
 gentleman proposed a quiet stroll into the pleasure 
 crrounds : 
 
 " Stroll ! why, don't you see my gouty shoe ? " 
 
 " Yes, I see that plain enough, and I wish I'd brought one 
 too ; but they're all out now." 
 
 "Well, and what then?" 
 
 " Wliat then ? Why, ray dear fellow, you don't mean to 
 say that you have really got the gout ? I thought you had 
 only put on that shoe to get off being shown over the im- 
 provements." 
 
 In town, one of the houses at which he visited 
 most was Lord Harrington's. He was a nice observer 
 of manners ; and the perfect high-breeding Avhich 
 characterises every member of the Stanhope family, 
 without exception, was exactly to his taste. 
 
 Another of his favourite houses was Lady Bles- 
 sington's. He admired her powers of conversation ;
 
 JAMES SMITH. 143 
 
 he loved to mingle amongst social, literary, and 
 political celebrities ; and he thought Count D'Orsay 
 one of the most accomplished and agreeable men he 
 had ever known. At Lady Blessington's request he 
 frequently contributed to the " Book of Beauty ; " 
 for example, the verses on Mrs. Lane Fox, and ]\Irs. 
 Verschoyle. He was also in the habit of sending 
 her occasional epigrams, complimentary scraps of 
 verse, or punning notes, like the following: — 
 
 " The newspapers tell us that your new carriage is very 
 highly varnished. This, I j)resume, means your wheeled 
 carriage. The merit of your personal carringe has always 
 been to ray mind its absence from all varnish. Tlie question 
 requires that a jury should be nrxpannelled.'''' 
 
 Or this : — 
 
 " Dear Lady Blessington, — When you next see your 
 American friend, have the goodness to accost him as follows : 
 
 " In England rivers all are males — 
 For instance Father Thames ; 
 Whoever in Columbia sails, 
 
 Finds them ma'mselles or dames. 
 
 " Yes, there the softer sex presides, 
 Aquatic I assure ye, 
 And Mrs. Sippy rolls her tides, 
 Responsive to Miss Souri. 
 
 *' Your ladyshij)'s faithful and 
 
 " Devoted servant, 
 
 " James Smith." 
 
 His bachelorship is thus attested in his niece's 
 album : — 
 
 " Should I seek Hymen's tie, 
 As a poet I die : 
 
 Ye Benedicts mourn my distresses ! 
 For what little fame 
 Is annexed to my name, 
 
 Is derived from ' Rejected Addresses.' " 
 
 His solitary state, however, certainly proceeded 
 rather from too discursive than too limited an admi-
 
 144 JAMES SMITH. 
 
 ration of the sex, for to the latest hour of his life he 
 gave a marked preference to their society, and dis- 
 liked a dinner party composed exclusively of males. 
 
 The two folio win o^ are amono-st the best of his ""ood 
 things. A gentleman with the same Christian and 
 surname took lodsjinQ-s in the same house. The con- 
 sequence was, eternal confusion of calls and letters. 
 Indeed the postman had no alternative but to share 
 the letters equally between the two. " This is in- 
 tolerable, sir," said our friend, " and you must quit." 
 " Why am I to quit more than you ? " " Because 
 you are James the Second — and must ahdicate.^^ 
 
 Mr. Bentley proposed to establish a periodical pub- 
 lication, to be called •' The Wit's Miscellany." Smith 
 objected that the title promised too much. Shortly 
 afterwards the publisher came to tell him that he had 
 profited by the hint, and resolved on calling it 
 " Bentley's Miscellany." " Isn't that going a little 
 too far the other way," was the remark. 
 
 A capital pun has been very generally attributed to 
 him. An actor named Priest was playing at one of 
 the principal theatres. Some one remarked at the 
 Garrick Club that there were a great many men in the 
 pit. " Probably clerks who have taken Priest's 
 orders." The pun is perfect, but the real proprietor 
 is Mr. Poole, one of the best punsters as well as one 
 of the cleverest comic writers of the day. 
 
 In a letter dated May 21, 1836 (since printed), he 
 wrote to a lady friend : — 
 
 " Our dinner party yesterday, at H 's chambers in the 
 
 Temple, was very lively. Mrs. was dressed in pink, with 
 
 a black lace veil ; her hair smooth, with a knot behind, and a 
 string of small pearls across her forehead. Hook was the 
 lion of the dinner-table, whereupon I, like Addison, did 
 * maintain my dignity by a stiff silence.' An opportunity for 
 a hon-mot, however, occurred, which I had not virtue sufficient 
 to resist. Lord L mentioned that an old lady, an ac-
 
 JAMES SMITH. 145 
 
 qunintance of his, kept her books in detached ui^ok-cases, 
 the male authors in one, and the female in another. I said, 
 * I suppose her reason was, she did not wish to add to her 
 library.' " 
 
 The joke was made by Lord L ; the story, an 
 
 invented pleasantry, illustrative of Madame Genlis's 
 prudery, having been related by another of the 
 company. 
 
 He had an unfeigned respect for his profession, and 
 would often reojret the manner in which it was losino^ 
 its individual character by becoming blended with 
 the world. He would fain have brought back the 
 times when it was as much a matter of course for a 
 judge to reside in Bloomsbury as for a barrister to 
 have chambers in an inn of court, and we have heard 
 him frequently state that, when Lord Ellenborough 
 set the present fashion by moving to St. James's 
 Square, the circumstance gave general dissatisfaction, 
 and was a prominent topic in the newspapers for a 
 week. 
 
 In those days, it Avas customary on emergencies for 
 the judges to swear affidavits at their dwelling-houses. 
 Smith was desired by his father to attend a judge's 
 chambers for that purpose, but being engaged to dine 
 in Russell Square at the next house to Mr. Justice 
 Holroyd's, he thought he might as well save himself 
 the disagreeable necessity of leaving the party at 
 eight, by despatching his business at once : so a few 
 minutes before six he boldly knocked at the judge's, 
 and requested to speak to him on particular business. 
 The judge Avas at dinner, but came down without 
 delay, swore the affidavit, and then gravely asked 
 what was the ^iressing necessity that induced our 
 friend to disturb him at that hour. As Smith told 
 the stor}', he raked his invention for a lie, but finding 
 none fit for the purpose, he blurted out the truth : — 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 JAMES SMITH. 
 
 " * The fact is, my lord, I am engaged to dine at the next 
 house — and — and — ' 
 
 " ' And, sir, you thought you might as well save your own 
 dinner by spoiling mine ? ' 
 
 " ' Exactly so, my lord, but — ' 
 
 " ' Sir, I wish you a good evening.' " 
 
 Though he brazened the matter out, he said he 
 never was more frightened ; for he had a prescriptive 
 reverence for legal dignitaries, and we doubt whether 
 an invitation from one of the Royal Family would have 
 given him more gratification than an invitation from 
 a judge. We well remember the pleasure with which 
 he dwelt upon a dinner at Baron Gurney's, where he 
 met Lord Denman ; and his attachment to Lord 
 Abinger was based full as much on that distinguished 
 person's unrivalled forensic reputation, as on his 
 general acquirements, literary taste, polished manners, 
 and sociability. 
 
 He was rather fond of a joke on his own branch 
 of the profession ; he always gave a peculiar emphasis 
 to the line in his song on the contradictions in 
 
 names,- 
 
 " Mr. Makepeace was bred an attorney," 
 
 and would frequently quote Goldsmith's lines on 
 Hickey, the associate of Burke and other distinguished 
 contemporaries : — 
 
 " He cherished his friends, and he relished a bumper ; 
 Yet one fault he had, and that was a thumper. 
 Then, what was his foiling ? come, tell it, and burn ye : 
 He was, could he help it ? a special attorney." 
 
 The following playful colloquy in verse took place 
 at a dinner-table between Sir George Ross and him- 
 self, in allusion to Craven Street, Strand, where he 
 resided : — 
 
 " J. S. — ' At the top of my street the attorneys abound, 
 And down at the bottom the barges are found :
 
 JAMES SMITH. 147 
 
 Fly, Honesty, fly to some safer retreat. 
 
 For there's craft in the river, and craft in the "treet.' 
 
 " Sir G. R. — ' Why should Honesty fly to some safer retreat. 
 From attorneys and barges, 'od rot 'em ? 
 For the lawyers are just at the top of the street. 
 And the barges are just at the bottom.'" 
 
 He had a proper, unaffected, philosophical respect 
 for rank ; but he had formed too true and precise an 
 estimate of his own position to be ever otherwise than 
 at his ease, and no one knew better that the great 
 charm of society is the entire absence of pretension 
 and subserviency, — the thorough, practical, operating 
 conviction in the minds of all present that they are 
 placed for the time on a perfect footing of equality. 
 
 He had a keen relish for life, but he spoke calmly 
 and indifferently about dying — as in the verses on 
 revisitino; Chisrwell : — 
 
 o ^ ' o 
 
 "I fear not, Fate, thy pendent shears: 
 There are who pray for length of years, 
 
 To them, not me, allot 'em — 
 Life's cup is nectar at the brink, 
 Midway, a palatable drink, 
 
 And wormwood at the bottom." 
 
 This is not quite reconcileable with a remark he 
 once made to the writer, that if he could go back 
 to any former period of his life, he would prefer going 
 back to forty. He was about that age when he first 
 sprang into celebrity. 
 
 On the occasion of another visit to Chigwell he 
 wrote thus : — 
 
 " World, in thy ever busy mart, 
 I've acted no unnoticed part — 
 
 Would I resume it ? — Oh, no — 
 Four acts are done — the jest grows stale, 
 The waning lamps burn dim and pale. 
 
 And reason asks — cui boiio" 
 
 On giving up the solicitorship to the Ordnance, he 
 found that his income would not suffice for his 
 
 I. 2
 
 148 JAMES SMITH. 
 
 habitual wants, and he invested liis moneyed capital 
 (about 3000/.) in an annuity. "It looks selfish," he 
 remarked, "as regards my brother's children; but 
 please to observe, that when my brother married, he 
 cut me off from all chance of inheritino^ from liim ; 
 and although my life is not worth many years' pur- 
 chase, it may last twenty years, and I should be made 
 miserable by the possibility of ever coming to want." 
 He did not live long enough to receive more than 
 the first quarter of the annuity. 
 
 We are informed by his friend and physician, Dr. 
 Paris, by whose skill and attention his life was more 
 than once unexpectedly prolonged, that he did not 
 suffer much during his last illness. He died on the 
 24th December, 1839, and was buried in the vaults 
 under St. Martin's Church. The funeral, by his own 
 desire, was strictly private. 
 
 1
 
 149 
 
 GEORGE SELWYN. 
 
 (From the Edinburgh Review, July, 1844.) 
 
 George Sehcyn and Ms Contemporaries ; with ISIemoirs and 
 Notes. By John Heneage Jesse. 4 vols. London : 
 1843-4. 
 
 There is a charm in the bare title of this book. It is 
 an open sesame to a world of pleasant things. As at 
 the ringing of the manager's bell, the curtain rises, and 
 discovers a brilliant tableau of wits, beanties, states- 
 men, and men of pleasure about town, attired in the 
 quaint costume of our great-grandfathers and great- 
 grandmothers ; or, better still, we feel as if we had 
 obtained the reverse of Bentham's wish — to live a 
 part of his life at the end of the next hundred years, 
 — by being permitted to live a part of ours about 
 the beginning of the last, with an advantage he 
 never stipulated for, that of spending it with the 
 pleasantest people of the day. 
 
 Let us suppose that onl}^ twenty-four hours were 
 granted us ; how much might be done or seen within 
 the time! AVe take the privilege of long intimacy to 
 drop in upon Selwyn in Chesterfield Street, about 
 half-past ten or eleven in the morning ; we find him 
 in his dressing-gown, playing with his dog Raton : 
 about twelve we walk down arm-in-arm to White's, 
 where Selwyn's arrival is hailed with a joyous laugh, 
 and Topham Beauclerk hastens to initiate us into tlie 
 newest bit of scandfd. The day is warm, and a stroll 
 to Betty's fruit-shop (St. James's Street) is proposed. 
 Lord ^larch is already there, settling his famous bet 
 with young Mr. Pigot, that old Mr. Pigot would die 
 
 L 3
 
 150 
 
 GEORGE SELWYN 
 
 before Sir AVilliam Codrington. Just as this grave 
 affair is settled, a cry is raised of " the Gunnings are 
 coming," and we all tumble out to gaze and criticise. 
 At Brookes's, our next house of call, Sir Charles Han- 
 bury Williams is easily persuaded to entertain the 
 party by reading his verses, not yet printed, on the 
 marriage of Mr. Ilussey (an Irish gentleman) with 
 the Duchess of Manchester (the best match in the 
 kingdom), and is made happy by our compliments ; 
 but looks rather blank on Kigby's hinting that the 
 author will be obli^xed to fio:lit half the Irishmen in 
 town, which, considering tlie turn of the verses, 
 seemed probable enough. To change at once the 
 subject and the scene, we accompany Sir^ Charles and 
 Rigby to the House of Commons, where we find " the 
 Great Commoner " making a furious attack on the 
 Attorney-General (Murray), who (as Walpole phrases 
 it) suffered for an hour. After hearing an animated 
 reply from Fox (the first Lord Holland) we rouse 
 Selwyn, who is dozing behind the Treasury Bench, 
 and, wishing to look in upon the Lords, make him 
 introduce us below the bar. We find Lord Chester- 
 field speaking, the Chancellor (Hardwicke) expected 
 to speak next, the Duke of Cumberland just come in, 
 and the Duke of Newcastle shuffling about in a ludi- 
 crous state of perturbation, betokening a crisis ; but 
 Selwyn grows impatient, and we hurry off to Straw- 
 berry Hill, to join the rest of the celebrated ijartie 
 quarree, or " out of town " party, who are long ago as- 
 sembled. The petit soiiper appears on the instant, and 
 as the champagne circulates, there circulates along with 
 it a refined, fastidious, fashionable, anecdotic, gossip- 
 ing kind of pleasantry, as exhilarating as its sparkle, 
 and as volatile as its froth. We return too late to 
 see Garrick, but time enough for the house-warming 
 fete at Chesterfield house, where the Duke of Hamil- 
 ton loses a thousand pounds at faro, because he
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 151 
 
 cliooses to Ogle Elizabeth Gunning instead of attend- 
 ing to his cards. 
 
 We shall, perhaps, be reminded that (making light 
 of an anachronism or two) we have seen nothing of 
 Fielding, Eichardson, Smollett, Johnson, Collins, 
 Akenside, Mason, or Gray ; but our gay friends, alas ! 
 never once alluded to them, and for tis to waste any 
 part of so short a period in looking for men of letters, 
 would be to act like the debtor in the Queen's Bench 
 Prison, who, when he got a day rule, invariably spent 
 it in the Fleet. 
 
 According to Mr. Jesse, we owe this new glimpse 
 into these times to a habit of Selwyn's, which it is 
 difficult to reconcile with his general carelessness. 
 " It seems to have been one of his peculiarities to 
 preserve not only every letter addressed to him 
 during the course of his long life, but also the most 
 trifling notes and unimportant memoranda." Such 
 was the practice of the most celebrated wit of the 
 eighteenth century ; the most celebrated wit of the 
 nineteenth did precisely the reverse. " Upon prin- 
 ciple," (said Sydney Smith, in answer to an applica- 
 tion about letters from Sir James Mackintosh,) "I 
 keep no letters, except those on business. I have 
 not a single letter from him, nor from any human 
 being, in my possession."* We should certainly pre- 
 fer being our contemporary's correspondent ; but we 
 must confess that we are not sorry to come in for a 
 share of the benefits accruing from Selwyn's savings 
 to his posterity. With the help of the materials thus 
 supplied, or collected by Mr. Jesse, we will endea- 
 vour, before tapping (to borrow Walpole's word) the 
 
 * Life of Mackintosl), by his Son, vol. ii. p. 99. — " We talked of letter- 
 writing. ' It is now,' said Johnson, ' become so much the fashion to pub- 
 lish letters, that, in order to avoid it, I put as little into mine as I can.' 
 'Do what you will, sir,' replied Boswell, 'you cannot avoid it.' " — Bos- 
 V'ell's Life of Johnson, vol. viii. p. 80, 
 
 I. 4
 
 152 GEORGE selwyn: 
 
 chapter of Selwyn's correspondence, to sketch an 
 outline of his life. 
 
 George Augustus Selwj'n entered the world with 
 every advantage of birth and connexion ; to which 
 that of fortune was added in good time. His father, 
 Colonel John Selwyn, of Matson in Gloucestershire, 
 where the family ranked as one of the best in the 
 county, had been aide-de-camp to the Duke of Marl- 
 borough, commanded a regiment, sat many years in 
 Parliament, and filled various situations about the 
 court. His mother, a daughter of General Farring- 
 ton, was woman of the bedchamber to Queen Caroline, 
 and enjoyed a high reputation for social humour. 
 As his father was a plain, straightforward^ common- 
 place sort of man, it is fair to presume that he in- 
 herited his peculiar talent from her ; thus adding 
 another to the many instances of gifted men formed 
 by mothers, or endowed by them with the best and 
 brightest of their qualities. Schiller, Goethe, the 
 Schlegels, Victor Hugo, Canning, Lord Brougham, 
 occur to us on the instant ; and Curran said — " The 
 only inheritance I could boast of from my poor father, 
 was the very scanty one of an unattractive face and 
 person, like his own ; and if the world has ever attri- 
 buted to me something more valuable than face or 
 person, or than earthly wealth, it was that another 
 and a dearer parent gave her child a fortune from 
 the treasure of her mind." 
 
 Selwyn was born on the 11th August, 1719. He 
 was educated at Eton, and on leaving it entered at 
 Hertford College, Oxford. After a short stay at the 
 university, he started on the grand tour, and on his 
 return, though a second son with an elder brother 
 living, made London and Paris his head-quarters, be- 
 came a member of the clubs, and associated with the 
 wits and men of fashion. Before he had completed 
 his twenty.first year, he was appointed Clerk of the
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 153 
 
 Irons and Surveyor of the Meltings at the Mint; 
 offices usually performed by deputy. At all events, 
 occasional attendance at the weekly dinner, formerly 
 provided for this department of the public service, was 
 the only duty they imposed on Selwj'n ; the very man 
 to act on Colonel Hanger's principle, who, when afriend 
 in power suggested that a particular office, not being 
 a sinecure, would hardly suit him, replied, " Get mo 
 the place, and leave me alone for making it a sinecure." 
 The salary must have been small, for in a letter from 
 Paris (September, 1742), he says that his entire in- 
 come, including the allowance made him by his father, 
 was only 220/. a year ; and he appears to have been 
 constantly in distress for money. In a letter to his 
 former Eton tutor, Mr. Vincent Mathias (Paris, 
 November, 1742), he entreats his advice as to the best 
 mode of getting the Colonel to advance a small sum 
 over and above his yearly income ; and gives a pitiable 
 descrip)tion of his circumstances, " without clothes, 
 linen, books, or credit." 
 
 In 1744, Selwyn returned to Hertford College, and 
 resumed the life of a college student ; — unaccountably 
 enough, for he was then a formed man of the world, 
 and twenty-five. Probably he had thoughts of pur- 
 suing a profession, or, to please his father, pretended 
 that he had. His influential position in the London 
 Avorld at this time, is shown by letters from Rigby 
 and Sir Charles Hanbury Williams. 
 
 " The RigJit Hon. Richard Rigby to George Sehcyn. 
 
 " Tuesday, March 12 (1745), 7 o'clock. 
 
 " Dear George, — I thank you for your letter, which I 
 have this moiuent received and read; and, tliat you may not 
 be surj)rised at my readiness in answering it, I will begin 
 with telling you the occasion of it. I am just got home from 
 a cock-match, where I have won forty pounds in ready 
 money, and, not having dined, am waiting till I hear the
 
 154 
 
 GEORGE SELWYN: 
 
 rattle of the coaches from the House of Commons, in order 
 to dine at White's ; and now I will begin my journal, for in 
 that style I believe my letters will be the best received, con- 
 sidering our situations. . . . 
 
 " I saw Garrick act Othello that same night, In which I 
 think he was very unmeaningly dressed, and succeeded in 
 no degree of comparisorf with Quin, except in the scene 
 where lago gives him the first suspicion of Dcsdemona. 
 He endeavoured throughout to play and speak everything 
 directly different from Quin, and failed, I think, in most of 
 his alterations." 
 
 This was the occasion on which Quin went to the 
 pit to see his rival act. It was at a time when 
 Hogarth's " Marriage a la Mode " was familiar to every 
 one. One of the prints of that series represents a 
 negro boy bringing in the tea-things. When Garrick, 
 with his diminutive figure and blackened face, came 
 forward as Othello, Quin exclaimed, " Here is Pom- 
 pey, but where is the tray ? " The effect was electrical, 
 and Garrick never attempted Othello again. When 
 Dr. Griffiths, many years afterwards, thoughtlessly 
 inquired wdiether he had ever acted the part ? " Sir," 
 said he, evidently disconcerted, " I once acted it to 
 my cost." 
 
 Sir Charles writes — 
 
 " I hope you divert yourself well at the expense of the 
 whole university, though the object is not worthy you. The 
 dullest fellow in it has parts enough to ridicule it, and you 
 have parts to fly at nobler game." 
 
 By disregarding this sensible hint, Selwyn got into 
 a scrape, which, had it happened in our time, would 
 have fixed a lasting stigma on his character. In 
 1745, he so far forgot himself, in a drunken frolic, 
 as to go through a profane mockery of a religious 
 ceremony ; and the circumstance having come to the 
 knowledge of the heads of the university, he Avas
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 155 
 
 expelled. Most of his gay friends looked on this 
 affair in the same light as Sir William Maynard, who 
 writes thus : — 
 
 "Walthamstow, July 3, 1745. 
 
 " Dear George, — I have this moment received yours, and 
 have only time to tell you the sooner you come here, the 
 greater the obligation will be to me. D — n the university ! 
 — I ivish they loere both on fire, and one could hear the jn-octors 
 cry like roasted lobsters. My compliments to Dr. Newton. 
 
 " Yours affectionately, 
 
 «W. M." 
 
 Indeed the only palliation or apology, and that a 
 poor one, that can be urged for Selwyn, is to be found 
 in the bad taste and loose habits of his contemporaries. 
 The famous Medenham Abbey Club was founded soon 
 afterwards. It consisted of twelve members, who 
 met at Medenham Abbey, near Marlow, to indulge in 
 ribaldry, profanity, and licentiousness. The motto 
 (from Rabelais) over the grand entrance was : Fay 
 ce que voudrais. Although the club became notorious, 
 and their disgusting profanity was well known, it 
 proved no bar either to the reception of the members 
 in society, or to their advancement in the state. Sir 
 Francis Dash wood, the founder, who officiated as high 
 priest, became Chancellor of the Exchequer ; Lord 
 Sandwich, First Lord of the Admiralty ; and Wilkes 
 everything that the sober citizens of London could 
 make of him. 
 
 Selwyn's character at this time is given by one of 
 the Oxford magnates : — " The upper part of the 
 society here, with whom he often converses, have, 
 and always have had, a very good opinion of him. He 
 is certainly not intemperate nor dissolute, nor does 
 he game, that I know or have heard of. He has a 
 good deal of vanity, and loves to be admired and 
 caressed, and so suits himself with great ease to the 
 gravest and the sprightliest."
 
 156 GEORGE SELWYN : 
 
 Colonel and Mrs. Selwyn were shocked and irritated 
 in the highest degree by such a termination of his 
 university career ; but the faihng health of his elder 
 brother John contributed to soften them, and procured 
 George an extent of indulgence which would hardly 
 have been granted, had it not become apparent that 
 the family estate and honours must eventually de- 
 volve upon him. John Selwyn was the intimate 
 friend of ]\Iarshal Conway, to whom, so early as 
 1740, Walpole writes: "I did not hurry myself to 
 answer your last, but chose to write to poor Selwyn 
 upon his illness. He deserves so much love from all 
 that know him, and you owe him so much friendship, 
 that I can scarce conceive a greater shook." John 
 did not die till June, 1751, when George was in his 
 thirty-second year. By this event he became the 
 heir, but the estate was unentailed, and his prospects 
 Avere still dubious enough to excite the apprehensions 
 of his friends. In November, 1751, Sir William 
 Maynard writes — 
 
 " The public papers inform me of your father's 
 being dangerously ill, which was confirmed to me last 
 2^ost. As you have always convinced me of your love 
 for your father, (though I can't persuade the world 
 you will be sorry for his death,) I shall be glad to 
 know, if you have one moment's leisure, how he does, 
 as you are so nearly concerned in his doing well. I 
 can't help thinking but it will be more for your 
 interest that your father should recover, as I don't 
 yet imagine you quite establislied in his good opinion, 
 and as you have so powerful an enemy at home." 
 
 Who his powerful enemy at home was, does not 
 appear. His mother is mentioned in a preceding 
 letter as his advocate ; yet one of Walpole's anecdotes 
 implies that at one time he had forfeited the affection 
 of both parents. The notorious Lady Townshend 
 had taken an extraordinary fancy to the rebel Lord 
 
 1
 
 IIIS LIFE AND TIMES. 157 
 
 Kilmarnock, whom she had never seen until the day 
 of his trial. " George Selwyn dined with her, and 
 not thinking her affliction so serious as she pretends, 
 talked rather jokingly of the execution. She burst 
 into a flood of tears and rage, told him she now 
 believed all his father and mother had said of him, and, 
 with a thousand other reproaches, flung up-stairs. 
 George coolly took Mrs. Dorcas, her woman, and 
 made her sit down to finish the bottle. ' And pray, 
 sir,' says Dorcas, ' do you think my lady will be 
 prevailed upon to let me go and see the execution ? 
 I have a friend that has promised to take care of me, 
 and I can lie in the Tower the night before.' " 
 
 His father died in 1751 without tying up the 
 property, which brought with it the power of nomi- 
 nating two members for Ludgershall, and interest 
 enouo-h at Gloucester to insure his own return for 
 
 a 
 
 that city. This change of circumstances made little 
 change in his course of life. He had sat in Parlia- 
 ment for the family borough since 1747, when Gilly 
 Williams writes: — "I congratulate you on the near 
 approach of Parliament, and figure you to myself 
 before a glass at your rehearsals. I must intimate 
 to you not to forget closing your periods with a 
 significant stroke of the breast, and recommend 
 Mr. Barry as a pattern, who I think pathetically 
 excels in that beauty." Spranger Barry, the actor, 
 is the proposed model ; but Selwyn was not ambitious 
 of senatorial honours, and when obliged to attend the 
 House and be in readiness for a division, he used 
 either to withdraw to one of the committee-rooms for 
 conversation, or to fall asleep. He generally sided 
 with the court party, and was Avell rewarded for his 
 constancy ; being at the same time Clerk of the Irons 
 and Surveyor of the Meltings at the Wmt, Registrar 
 of the Court of Chancery in Barbadoes (where he 
 had an estate), and Paymaster of the Works — de-
 
 158 
 
 GEORGE SELWYN 
 
 scribed as a very lucrative appointment. It was 
 abolished in 1782, by Burke's Economical Reform 
 Bill ; but in the course of the next year he was made 
 Surveyor-General of the Works by Mr. Pitt. 
 
 In 1768 he was opposed at Gloucester by a timber- 
 merchant, and the manner in which his friends speak 
 of his opponent is characteristic of the times. Gilly 
 Williams calls him "ad — d carpenter;" and Lord 
 Carlisle asks — 
 
 " Why did you not set his timber yard a-fire ? 
 What can a man mean who has not an idea sepa- 
 rated from the foot square of a Norway deal plank, 
 by desiring to be in Parliament ? Perhaps, if you 
 could have got anybody to have asked him his 
 reasons for such an unnatural attempt, the fact of 
 his being unable to answer what he had never thought 
 about might have made him desist. But these beasts 
 are monstrously obstinate, and about as well bred as 
 the great dogs they keep in their yards." 
 
 It is currently related that Selwyn did his best to 
 keep Sheridan out of Brookes's, and was only pre- 
 vented from black-balling him for the third or fourth 
 time by a trick. According to one version, the Prince 
 of Wales kept Selwyn in conversation at the door till 
 the ballot was over. According to Wraxall's, he was 
 suddenly called away by a pretended message from 
 his adopted daughter. Some attribute his dislike to 
 aristocratic prejudice; others to party feeling; and 
 Mr. Jesse says that it arose in a great degree from 
 Sheridan's " having been one of the party which had 
 deprived Selwyn of a lucrative post" — that of Pay- 
 master of the Works. Yet Mr. Jesse himself states 
 that the black-balling occurred in 1780, and that the 
 place was abolished in 1782. We are uncharitable 
 enouirh to think that an established wit would feel 
 something like an established beauty at the proposed
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 159 
 
 introduction of a rival, and tliat a tinge of jealousy 
 mierlit have been the foundation of the dislike. 
 
 Selwyn had taken to gaming before his father's 
 death — probably from his first introduction to the 
 clubs. In 1748, Gilly Williams asks— "What do 
 you intend? I think the almanack bids you take 
 care of colds, and abstain from physic ; I say, avoid 
 the knowing ones, and abstain from hazard." His 
 stakes were high, though not extravagantly so, com- 
 pared with the sums hazarded by his contemporaries. 
 In 1765, he lost a thousand pounds to Mr. Shafto, 
 who applies for it in the language of an embarrassed 
 tradesman — 
 
 "July 1, 1765. 
 *'Deai* Sir, — I have this moment received the favour of 
 your letter. I intended to have gone out of town on Thurs- 
 day, but as you shall not receive your money before the end 
 of this week, I must postpone my journey till Sunday. A 
 month would have made no difference to me, had I not had 
 others to pay before I leave town, and must pay : therefore 
 must beg that you will leave the whole before the week is 
 out at White's, as it is to be paid away to others to whom I 
 have lost, and do not choose to leave town till that is done. 
 Be sure you could not wish an indulgence I should not be 
 happy to grant, if in my power." 
 
 Mr. Jesse states that latterly Selwyn entirely got 
 the better of his propensity to play ; observing that 
 it was too great a consumer of four things, — time, 
 health, fortune, and thinking. But an extract from 
 the late Mr. Wilberforce's Diary throws some doubt 
 on the accuracy of this statement : " The first time 
 I was at Brookcs's, scarcely knowing any one, I 
 joined, from mere shyness, at the faro-table, where 
 George Selwyn kept bank. A friend who knew my 
 inexperience, and regarded me as a victim decked out 
 for sacrifice, called out to me, ' What, Wilberforce ! 
 is that you ?' Selwyn quite resented this interference,
 
 160 GEOllGE selwyn: 
 
 and turning to him said, in his most impressive tone, 
 ' Oh, sir ! don't interrupt Mr. Wilberforce, he could 
 not be better employed.' " This occurred in 1782, 
 when Selwyn was sixty-three. Previously, in 1776, 
 we find him undergoing the process of dunning from 
 Lord Derby; and in 1779 from Mr. Crawford, — "Fish 
 Crawford," as he was called, — each of whom, like 
 Mr. Shafto, " had a sum to make up." 
 
 Gaming was his only vice. He indulged mode- 
 rately in the pleasures of the table. In 1765 Williams 
 Avrites, " You may eat boiled chicken and kiss Raton 
 (his dog) as well on this side the water." As 
 regards gallantry, we have good authority for doubt- 
 ing whether he was quite so much an anchorite as 
 was supposed ; but his coldness was a constant sub- 
 ject of banter among his friends. Lord Holland 
 says — "My Lady Mary goes (to a masquerade) 
 dressed like Zara, and I Avish you to attend her 
 dressed like a black eunuch." Lord Carlisle adopts 
 the same tone — " In regard to her (a mysterious un- 
 known), in every other light but as a friend you shall 
 see I shall be as cold as a stone, or as yourself." 
 Keaders of the " Rolliad" may recall a broader joke; 
 and Mr. Jesse has ventured to print one of Gilly 
 Williams's, levelled at Walpole as well as Selwyn, 
 which we cannot venture to transcribe. As to Sel- 
 wyn's alleged intrigue with the Marchesa Fagniani, 
 there is no better proof of it than his extreme fond- 
 ness for her daughter (Maria, Dowager-Marchioness 
 of Hertford), whom the gossips thence inferred to 
 be his own. In contemporary opinion, Lord March 
 shared the honours of paternity with Selwyn. His 
 Lordship was equally intimate with her mother, and 
 he left her an immense fortune at his death. Re- 
 semblance, too, must go for something; and Dr. 
 Warner, after an interview with Lord March, says — 
 " The more I contemplate his face, the more I am
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 161 
 
 struck with a certain likeness to the lower part of it ; 
 his very chin and lips, and they are rather singular. 
 But you will never be cVaccord upon this interesting 
 subject, as I am sorry to be too much convinced ; 
 but that you know better than I." In considering 
 this question, it must not be forgotten that Selwyn's 
 passion for children was one of the marked features 
 of his character. Lord Carlisle's and Lord Co- 
 ventry's, particularly Lady Anne Coventry (after- 
 wards Lady Anne Foley), were among his especial 
 favourites. 
 
 Selwyn paid frequent visits to Paris, and spoke 
 French to perfection. " I shall let Lord Huntingdon 
 know (says Lord March) that you are thought to 
 have a better pronunciation than any one that ever 
 came from this country." The Queen of Louis XV. 
 took pleasure in conversing with him. " I dined to- 
 day (we are still quoting from Lord March,} at what 
 is called no dinner, at Madame de Coignie's. The 
 Queen asked Madame de ^lirepoix, ''Si elle iiHavait 
 pas heaucoup entendu medire de Monsieur Selivyn et 
 ellef^ Elle a repondu^ ^ Oui, beaiicoup, Madame.^ 
 '' J'en suis bien-aise,^ dit la Reine.^^ He was received 
 on a perfect footing of equality, and as it were na- 
 turalised, in that brilliant circle of which ]\ladame 
 du Deffand was the centre ; and he often lins^ered 
 longer in it than was agreeable to his English friends. 
 " Lady Hertford (writes Lord March in 1766) made 
 a thousand inquiries about you ; asked how long you 
 intended to stay, and hoped you Avould soon be tired 
 of blind women, old Presidents, and Premiers," — 
 alluding to Madame du Deffand, the President llen- 
 ault, and the Due de Choiseul. Williams sarcastically 
 inquires, " Cannot we get you an hospital in this 
 island, where you can pass your evenings with some 
 very sensible matrons ? and, if they arc not quite 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 
 
 GEORGE SELWYN : 
 
 blind, they may have some natural infirmity equiva- 
 lent to it.'' 
 
 Nothing proves Selwyn's real superiority more 
 strongly than his reception in this brilliant coterie, 
 and the enjoyment he found in it; for when he began 
 making his periodical visits to Paris, national preju- 
 dice was at its height; — the French regarded the 
 English as barbarians, and the English entertained a 
 contemptuous aversion for the French. So late as 
 1769, Lord Carlisle thus amusingly alludes to these 
 vulgar errors: — 
 
 " I am very sorry to hear Mr. Wood's family were 
 splashed by the sea. People who never travel know very 
 little what dangers we run. I dare say most of your French 
 acquaintances here wonder you do not go to England hy 
 land, but I believe they are very easy about us after we are 
 gone. They think we are very little altei*ed since the land- 
 in£j of Julius Caesar : that we leave our clothes at Calais, 
 having no furtlier occasion for them, and that every one of 
 
 us has a sunflower cut out and painted upon his , like 
 
 the prints in Clarke's Caesar. I do not think that all enter- 
 tain this idea of us ; I only mean the sgavans ; those who 
 can read." 
 
 The French might be pardoned for supposing that 
 the English left their clothes at Calais, for the tailors 
 of Paris were then as much in requisition as the 
 milliners ; and Selwyn is invariably loaded with com- 
 missions for velvet coats, silk small-clothes, brocade 
 dressing-gowns, lace ruffles, and various other articles, 
 by the gravest as well as the gayest of his friends. 
 As for the notion of reaching England hy land, geo- 
 graphy and the use of the globes were rare accom- 
 plishments in both countries. When Whiston foretold 
 tlie destruction of the world within three years, the 
 Duchess of Bolton avowed an intention of escaping 
 the common fate, by going to China. Selwyn not 
 only overcame the national prejudice in his own indi-
 
 ins LIFE AND TIMES. 163 
 
 vidual instance, but paved the way for the reception 
 of his friends. It was he who made Horace Walpole 
 acquainted with Madame du Deffand, and Gibbon 
 with Madame de GeofFrin. 
 
 His habit of dozing in the House of Commons has 
 been already noticed. He occasionally dozed in so- 
 ciety. " We hear (says Williams) of your falling 
 asleep standing at the old President's (Henault's), 
 and knocking him and. three more old women into 
 the fire. Are these things true ?" Walpole also hints 
 at it. " When you have a quarter of an hour, awake 
 and to spare, I wish you would, bestow it on me." 
 He is by no means singular, as miglit be shown by 
 many remarkable instances besides that of Lord 
 North, who (according to Gibbon) " might well in- 
 dulge a short slumber on the Treasury bench, when 
 supported by the majestic sense of Tliurlow on the 
 one side, and the skilful eloquence of Wedderburne 
 on the other." Lord Byron, in one of his Journals, 
 records a dinner-party of twelve, including Sheridan, 
 Tierney, and Erskine, of whom five were fast asleep 
 before the dessert was well upon the table. Li an- 
 other, he relates: — "At the Opposition meeting of 
 the peers in 1812, at Lord Grenville's, where Lord 
 Grey and he read to us the correspondence upon 
 Moira's negotiation, I sat next to the present Duke 
 of Grafton, and asked what is to be done next ? 
 * Wake the Duke of Norfolk^ (wlio was snoring away 
 near us), replied he; 'I don't think the negotiators 
 have left any tiling else for us to do this turn.' " 
 Considering the hours kept by modern wits and 
 senivtors, they may be excused for dropping into a 
 pleasing state of forgetfulness occasionally ; but Sel- 
 wyn had no such excuse. His mode of life is ex- 
 hibited in a droll sketch, in a letter to himself, written 
 by Lord Carlisle at Spa, in 1768 : — 
 
 M 2
 
 164 
 
 GEORGE SELWYN 
 
 " I rise at six ; am on horseback till breakfast ; play at 
 cricket till dinner ; and dance in the evening till I can scarce 
 crawl to bed at eleven. There is a life for you ! You get 
 up at nine ; play with Raton till twelve in your nightgown ; 
 then creep down to White's to abuse Fanshawe ; are five 
 houj's at table ; sleep till you can escape your supper reckon- 
 ing ; then make two wretches carry you, with three pints of 
 claret in you, three miles for a shilling." 
 
 AYits are seldom given to ruralities. In the spirit 
 of Captain Morris's song, they are ready to give up 
 any amount of green trees or mountain breezes for 
 " the sweet shady side of Pall Mall." Sehvyn par- 
 took largely of this feeling. The state of a gentle- 
 man's cellar was then, whatever it may J)e now, a 
 fair indication of the use he made of his house, and 
 Matson was very slenderly stocked. When Gilly 
 Williams took up his quarters there in passing through 
 Gloucester, he writes — " I asked Bell to dine here, but 
 he is too weak to venture so far ; so the Methodist and 
 I will taste your new and old claret. I have been 
 down in the cellar : there are about nine bottles of 
 old, and five dozen of new." Yet Matson was a 
 highly ngreeable residence, charmingly situated, and 
 rich in historical associations. Charles II. and James 
 II. (both boys at the time) were quartered there 
 during the siege of Gloucester by the Royalists in 
 
 1643; and they amused themselves by cutting out 
 their names, with various irregular emblazonments, 
 on the window-shutters. 
 
 During one of his brief electioneering visits at 
 Matson, Selwyn took it into his head to perform jus- 
 ticeship ; for (as Fielding observes with reference to 
 a similar attempt on the part of Squire Western) it 
 was, indeed, a syllable more than justice. " What 
 the devil (exclaims Gilly AVilliams) could tempt you 
 to act as justice of the peace ? This is Trapolin with 
 
 a vengeance! What! evidence, party, and judge
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 165 
 
 too ! If you do not make it up with the man soon, 
 some rogue of an attorney will plague your heart out 
 in the King's Bench." His gardener had been guilty 
 of some peculation, for which Selwyn, without cere- 
 mony, committed him. 
 
 A little over-eagerness might be excused, as one 
 of his strongest peculiarities was a passion for the 
 details of criminal justice, from the warrant to the 
 rope. His friends made a point of gratifying it, by 
 sending the earliest intelligence of remarkable crimes, 
 criminals, trials, and executions, as well as every 
 anecdote they could collect concerning them. When 
 Walpole's house in Arlington Street was broken open, 
 liis first care, after securing the robber, was to send 
 for Selwyn : — ''I despatched a courier to White's 
 for George, who, you know, loves nothing upon earth 
 so well as a criminal, except the execution of him. 
 It happened very luckily that the Drawer, Avho re- 
 ceived my message, has very lately been robbed him- 
 self, and had the wound fresh in his memory. He 
 stalked up into the club-room, stopped short, and 
 with a hollow trembling voice said, ' Mr. Selwyn, 
 Mr. Walpole's compliments, and he's got a house- 
 breaker for you.' " 
 
 Gilly Williams, having no house-breaker for him, 
 sends him a story about one instead: — " I will give 
 you a Newgate anecdote, wliich I had from a gentle- 
 man who called on P. Lewis the night before the 
 execution, and heard one runner call to another 
 and order a chicken boiled for Rice's su2:)per ; ' but,' 
 says he, ' you need not be curious about the sauce, 
 for he is to be hanged to-morrow.' ' That is true,' 
 says the other; 'but the Ordinary sups with him, 
 and you know he is a devil of a fellow for butter.' 
 If the continental air has not altered you, this will 
 please you ; at least, I have known the time wdien you 
 have gone a good way for such a morsel." 
 
 M 3
 
 166 
 
 GEOKGE SELWYN : 
 
 The best stories regarding his taste for executions 
 are related by Walpole, and well-known. Innumerable 
 were the jokes levelled at him for this peculiarity. 
 The best is the first Lord Holland's, who was dying: 
 — " The next time Mr. Selwyn calls show him up : 
 If I am alive, I shall be delighted to see him ; and if 
 I am dead, he will be glad to see me." Lord Holland 
 was not the only statesman of the period who could 
 joke under such circumstances. Mr. Legge (the 
 story is Gilly Williams's) told a very fat fellow who 
 came to see him the day he died — " Sir, you are a 
 great weight ; but, let me tell you, you are in at the 
 death." Another of the same gentleman's stories is 
 probably meant as a warning — " I remember a man 
 seeing a military execution in Hyde Park, and when 
 it was over, he turned about and said, ' By G — , I 
 thought there was more in it ! ' He shot himself the 
 next morning." 
 
 The writer of a letter in the " Gentleman's Majra- 
 zine," for April, 1791, supposed to be the Rev. Dr. 
 Warner, makes a gallant effort to rescue Selwyn's 
 memory from what he terms an unjust and injurious 
 imputation. After urging that nothing could be 
 more abhorrent from Selwyn's character, and that he 
 had the most tender and benevolent of hearts, the 
 writer thus proceeds: — "This idle but widespread 
 idea of his being fond of executions (of which he 
 never in his life attended but at one, and that rather 
 accidentally from its lying in his way, than from 
 design) arose from the pleasantries which it pleased 
 Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, and the then Lord 
 Chesterfield, to propagate from that one attendance, 
 for the amusement of their common friends. Of the 
 easiness with which such things sat upon him, you 
 may judge from the following circumstance, which I 
 have heard him more than once relate. Sir Charles 
 was telling a large company a similar story to that
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 167 
 
 of his attending upon executions, with many strokes 
 of rich humour, received with great glee, before his 
 face, when a gentleman who sat next to the object of 
 their mirth, said to him in a low voice — ' It is strange, 
 George, so intimate as we are, that I should never 
 have heard of this story before.' ' Not at all strange,' 
 he replied in the same voice, ' for Sir Charles has 
 just invented it, and Ivuows that 1 will not by con- 
 tradiction spoil the pleasure of the company he is so 
 highly entertaining.' And such was his good nature 
 in everything." This may account for the plea- 
 santries, but hardly for the facts, stated by Walpole 
 and others ; or for such an epistle as the following : — 
 
 *' I can with great pleasure inform you, my dear Selwyn, 
 that the head is ordered to be delivered on the first appHca- 
 tion made on your part. The expense is Httle more than a 
 guinea ; the person who calls should pay for it. Adieu, 
 mon cher mondain. 
 
 «T. Phillips." 
 
 As to tenderness and benevolence, there surely was 
 no necessity for assuming, that the taste in question 
 was irreconcilable with such qualities. It was simply 
 a craving for strong excitement ; a modification of 
 the feeling which still induces the Spanish women to 
 attend bull-fights, and formerly lured the gentlest 
 and noblest of the sex to tournaments. Moreover, 
 people were by no means so refi.ned or squeamish in 
 Selwyn's time as now, when the spectacle of bloody 
 heads over Temple Bar would not be tolerated for an 
 hour. Crowds of all classes pressed round to gaze 
 on those of the rebel Lords in 1740; and telescopes 
 were fixed for the use of the curious at a halfpenny 
 a peep. "I remember" (says Johnson, as reported 
 by Boswell) " once being with Goldsmith in West- 
 minster Abbey. While we surveyed the Poets' 
 Corner, I said to him, 
 
 " ' Forsitan et nomen nostrum miscebitur islis.' 
 
 M 4
 
 168 GEORGE SELWYN: 
 
 When we got to Temple Bar, he stopped me, pointed 
 to the heads upon it, and shly wliispered me, 
 
 *' ' Forsitan et nomen nostrum miscebitur istis.'' " 
 
 Nay, not thirty years ago, it was customary for 
 the governor of Newgate to give a breakfast to 
 thirteen or fourteen persons of distinction on the 
 morning of an execution. The party attended the 
 hanoincr breakfasted, and then attended the cuttino;- 
 down, but few had any appetite for the second and 
 third parts of the ceremoniah When we ourselves 
 attended, a very pretty girl (the governor's daughter, 
 we believe), who spoke of the sufferers as " our 
 2)eoj)le," distributed the tea and coffee. §he assured 
 us, in confidence, that the first call of the incipient 
 amateur was invariably for brandy ; and that the 
 only guest who never failed to do justice to the 
 broiled kidneys (for which she was famous) was the 
 Ordinary. 
 
 Storer (one of the Selwyn set) writes in 1774: — 
 " You will get by your edition of Madame de 
 Sevigne's Letters, enough to pay for as much Vin de 
 Grave as ever she drank en Bretagne^ Selwyn 
 rivalled or outran Walpole in his admiration of 
 Madame de Sevigne, and paid a visit to her residence, 
 Les Rochers (graphically described, as at present 
 existing, in Lady Morgan's "Book of the Boudoir"); 
 but we find no other proof of direct literary intentions 
 on his part ; and there is consequently no ground for 
 disputing the applicability of the remark with which 
 Mr. Jesse introduces the topic of his wit : — 
 
 " Perhaps no individual has ever acquired so general a 
 reputation for mere wit as George Selwyn. Villiers Duke 
 of Buckingham, Lords Dorset, Kochester, Chesterfield, and 
 Hervcy, Sir Charles Hanbury Williams, Bubb Doddington, 
 Sheridan, and (perhaps the most brilliant luminary in this 
 galaxy of wit) the late Theodore Hook, were men who had
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 169 
 
 one and all distinguished themselves in following the paths 
 of literature, while more than one of them had rendered 
 himself eminent in the senate. Thus, the character which 
 each maintained for wit was supported by the adventitious 
 aid of a reputation for literary or oratorical talents, while tlie 
 fime of George Selwyn stands exclusively on his character 
 for social pleasantry and conversational wit." 
 
 Not quite. It stood also on his three seats in 
 Parliament, and on his family connexions. These, 
 at the very outset, procured him that vantage ground, 
 to which Sheridan and Hook were obliged to win 
 their way at the risk of fretting a thousand vanities. 
 This may not apply to the rest on Mr. Jesse's list ; 
 but then it is a very imperfect one, and admits of 
 large additions — as (omitting all living examples) 
 Foote, Wilkes, Jekyll, Curran, Colman. 
 
 Dr. Johnson disliked Foote ; but when one of the 
 company, at a dinner-party at Dilly's, called him a 
 merry-andrew, a buffoon, the sage at once declared 
 that he had wit ; and added — " The first time I was 
 in company with Foote, was at Fitzherbert's. Having 
 no good opinion of the fellow, I was resolved not to 
 be pleased ; and it is very ditlicult to please a man 
 against his will. I went on taking my dinner pretty 
 sullenly, aftecting not to mind him. But the dog 
 was so very comical, that I was obliged to lay down 
 my knife and fork, throw myself back on ray chair, 
 and fairly laugh it out. Ko, sir, he was irresistible." 
 It was said to be impossible to take Foote unawares, 
 or to put him out. As he was telling a story at a 
 fine dinner-party, a gentleman, to try him, pulled 
 him by the coat-tail, and told him that his handker- 
 chief was hanging out. " Thank you, sir," said 
 Foote, replacing it, " you know the company better 
 than I do," and went on with his story. 
 
 Wilkes's fame may rest on his reply to Lord Sand- 
 wich, and on his fling at Thurlow. Jekyll needs no
 
 170 GEORGE SELWYN : 
 
 trumpeter. Lord Byron says of Colman — " If I had 
 to choose, and could not have both at a time, I would 
 say, ' Let me begin the evening with Sheridan, and 
 finish it with Colman.' " Of Curran, he says, " I 
 have met him at Holland House ; he beats every 
 body — his imagination is beyond human, and his 
 humour (it is difficult to define what is wit) perfect. 
 Then he has fifty faces, and twice as many voices, 
 when he mimics." This, we may add, was Hook's 
 great charm. His best stories were dramatic repre- 
 sentations a la Mathews^ little inferior to that fine 
 observer's " At Homes." 
 
 Why, again, since Mr. Jesse has gone back so far, 
 did he not go back a little farther, and' mention the 
 old Earl of Norwich ; — a singular illustration of the 
 fickleness of taste, and the truth of the maxim — " a 
 jest's prosperity lies in the ear of him who hears it." 
 He was the acknowledged wit of Charles the First's 
 court ; but was voted a dead bore when he attempted 
 to resume his wonted place at Whitehall after the 
 Restoration. 
 
 It should be remembered, moreover, to be placed 
 on the opposite column of the account — that high 
 reputation in one line may sometimes prevent a man 
 from acquiring much in another ; not merely because 
 of the prevalent dislike to pluralities, but because 
 the less is merged in the greater. Thus it was ad- 
 mirably said of Sir James Mackintosh by Sydney 
 Smith, " that he had not only humour, but wit also ; 
 at least, new and sudden relations of ideas flashed 
 across his mind in reasoning, and produced the 
 same effect as wit, and would have been called wit, 
 if a sense of their utility and importance had not 
 often overpowered the admiration of novelty y Wilber- 
 force, speaking of Pitt, said — " He Avas the wittiest 
 man I ever knew, and (what was quite peculiar to 
 himself) had at all times his wit under entire control.
 
 UIS LIFE AND TIMES. 17J 
 
 Others appeared struck by tlie unwonted associa- 
 tion of brilliant images ; but every possible combina- 
 tion of ideas seemed always present to his mind, and 
 he could at once produce whatever he desired. I 
 was one of those who met to spend an evening in 
 memory of Shakspeare, at the Boar's Head, Eastcheap. 
 i\Iany professed wits were present, but Pitt was the 
 most amusing of the party, and the readiest and most 
 apt in the required allusions.*' 
 
 In addition to Selwyn's other places, the voice of 
 his contemporaries conferred on him that of Receiver- 
 General of Waif and Stray Jokes — a sufficient proof 
 that he had plenty of his own ; for as D'Alembert 
 sarcastically observed to the Abbe Voisenon, who 
 complained that he was unduly charged with the 
 absurd sayings of others — '''■Monsieur rAObe, on ne 
 prete qu^aux richest Selwyn's droits^ in respect of 
 his anomalous office, were not limited to the clubs. 
 Lord Holland writes, in 1770, — " As the newspapers 
 impute so much wit to you, I hope they give you the 
 invention of that pretty motto they have put upon 
 Lord Carlisle's cap." Lord Carlisle, in 1776, — "What 
 the witty Mr. G. S. says in the newspapers is admi- 
 rable about the red-hot poker, though I like Diis pla- 
 cuit better." Lord March, in 1767, — " The king 
 talked of you at his dressing, and told me something 
 that you had said of the Macaronis, that he thought 
 very good." 
 
 According to Walpole, it was Selwyn's habit to 
 turn up the whites of his eyes, and assume an expres- 
 sion of demureness when giving utterance to a droll 
 thought ; and Wraxall says, that the effect of his 
 witticisms was greatly enhanced by his listless, drowsy 
 manner. Nor is this all.' What makes a-- man like 
 Sclwyn the delight of his contemporaries, is that ver- 
 satility, richness, and elasticity of mind, which invests 
 the commonest incidents with amusing or inspiriting
 
 172 GEORGE SI'XWYN: 
 
 associations — lights intuitively on the most attrac- 
 tive topics, grasps theni one moment, lets them go 
 the next, and, in a word, never suffers companionsliip 
 to become tiresome, or conversation to grow dull. 
 He may do this without uttering any thing that will 
 be generally recognised as wit. 
 
 At the risk of disappointing our readers, however, 
 we shall here quote some of the best of Selwyn's re- 
 corded witticisms and pleasantries : they occupy little 
 room, and there is nothing more provoking than to 
 be told of "the well-known anecdote" which one 
 does 7iot know. 
 
 When a subscription was proposed for Fox, and 
 some one was observing that it would require some 
 delicacy, and Avas wondering how Fox would take it 
 — " Take it? why, quarterly^ to be sure." 
 
 When one of the Foley family crossed the Channel 
 to avoid his creditors — "It is 2i pass over that will 
 not be much relished by the Jews." 
 
 When Fox was boasting of having prevailed on the 
 French court to give up the gum-trade — "As you 
 have permitted the French to draw your ieeth^ they 
 would be fools, indeed, to quarrel with you about 
 your gums." 
 
 When Walpole, in allusion to the sameness of the 
 system of politics continued in the reign of George the 
 Third, observed — "But there is nothing new under the 
 sun." — " No," said Selwyn, " nor under the graiidsony 
 
 One night, at White's, observing the Postmaster- 
 General, Sir Everard Fawkener, losing a large sum of 
 money at piquet, Selwyn, pointing to the successful 
 player, remarked — " See, how he is robbing the mail ! " 
 
 On another occasion, in 1756, observing Mr. Pon- 
 sonby, the Speaker of the Irish House of Commons, 
 tossing about bank-bills at a hazard-table at New- 
 market — " Look how easily the Speaker passes the 
 money -hills. ''^
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 173 
 
 The beautiful Lady Coventry was exhibiting to him 
 a splendid new dress, covered with large silver 
 spangles the size of a shilling, and inquired of hiui 
 whether he admired her taste — " Why," he said, " you 
 will be change for a guinea.''^ 
 
 This bears a strong resemblance to one of Lord 
 Mansfield's judicial pleasantries. Serjeant Davy was 
 cross-examining a Jew at great length, in order to 
 prove his insufficiency as bail. The sum was small, 
 and the Jew was dressed in a suit of clothes bedizened 
 witli silver lace. Lord Mansfield at length interfered 
 — "Come, come, brother "Davy, don't you see the man 
 would burn for the money ? " 
 
 At the sale of the effects of the minister, Mr. 
 Pelham, Selwyn, pointing to a silver dinner-service, 
 observed — "Lord, how many toads have been eaten 
 off these plates ! " 
 
 A namesake of Charles Fox having been hung at 
 Tyburn, Fox inquired of Selwyn whether he had at- 
 tended tlie execution — " No, I make a point of never 
 frequenting rehearsahy 
 
 A fellow-passenger in a coach, imagining from his 
 appearance that he was suffering from illness, kept 
 wearying him with good-natured inquiries as to the 
 state of his health. At length, to the repeated ques- 
 tion of " How are you now, sir," Selwyn replied — 
 " Very well, I thank you ; and I mean to continue so 
 for the rest of the journey." 
 
 He was one day walking with Lord Pembroke, 
 when they were besieged by a number of young 
 chimney-sweepers, who kept plaguing them for money. 
 At length Selwyn made them a low bow : " I have 
 often," he said, "heard of the sovereignty of the people ; 
 I suppose your Highnesses are in court mourning." 
 
 " On Sunday last," says Walpole, " George Selwyn 
 was strolling home to dinner at half an hour after 
 four. He saw my Lady Townshend's coacli stop at
 
 17-i GEORGE SELWYN 
 
 Caraccioli's cliapel. He watched, saw her go in ; her 
 footman Laughed ; he followed. She went up to the 
 altar, a woman brought her a cushion ; she knelt, 
 crossed herself, and prayed. He stole up, and knelt 
 by her. Conceive her face, if you can, when she 
 turned and found him close to her. In his demure 
 voice, he said, ' Pray, madam, how long has your 
 ladyship left the pale of our church ? ' She looked 
 furious, and made no answer. Next day he went to 
 her, and she turned it off upon curiosity ; but is any- 
 thing more natural ? No, she certainly means to go 
 armed with every viaticum ; the Church of England 
 in one hand, Methodism in the other, and the Host in 
 her mouth." 
 
 Wraxall stands godfather to the next: — "The 
 late Duke of Queensberry, who lived in the most in- 
 timate friendship with him, told me that Selwyn was 
 present at a public dinner with the Mayor and Cor- 
 poration of Gloucester, in the year 1758, when the 
 intelligence arrived of our expedition having failed 
 before Rochfort. The Mayor, turning to Selwyn — 
 ' You, sir,' said he, ' who are in the ministerial secrets, 
 can, no doubt, inform us of the cause of this mis- 
 fortune ? ' Selwyn, though utterly ignorant on the 
 subject, yet unable to resist the occasion of amusing 
 himself at the inquirer's expense — ' I will tell you, in 
 confidence, the reason, Mr. Mayor,' answered he ; 
 * the fact is, that the scaling-ladders prepared for the 
 occasion were found, on trial, to be too short.' This 
 solution, which suggested itself to him at the moment, 
 was considered by the Mayor to be perfectly explana- 
 tory of the failure, and as such he communicated it 
 to all his friends ; not being aware, though Selwyn 
 was, that Rochfort lies on the river Charente, some 
 leagues from the sea-shore, and that our troops had 
 never even effected a landing on the French coast." 
 
 A gentleman, on being twice cut by Selwyn in
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 175 
 
 London, came up and reminded him that they had 
 been acquainted at Bath. " I remember it very well ; 
 and, when we next meet at Bath, I shall be happy to 
 be acquainted with you again." 
 
 "When Lord George Gordon asked Selwyn to choose 
 him again for Ludgershall, he replied, the electors 
 would not. " Oh yes ! if you would recommend me, 
 they would choose me if I came from the coast of 
 Africa." — " That is, according to what part of the 
 coast you came from ; they would certainly, if you 
 came from the Guinea coast." Walpole, who relates 
 this anecdote in a letter to Lady Ossory, remarks on 
 it : " Now, madam, is not this true inspiration as well 
 as true w^it ? Had one asked him in which of the 
 four quarters of the world Guinea is situated, could 
 he have told ? " 
 
 On hearing that C (a new man) wanted to be 
 
 made Earl of Ormond, Selwyn said — " It would be 
 very proper, as no doubt there had been many Butlers 
 in the family." 
 
 Once, and once only, was he guilty of verse — 
 
 ON A PAIR OF SHOES FOUND IN A LADY'S BED. 
 
 " Well may suspicion shake its head, 
 
 Well may Clarinda's spouse be jealous, 
 When the dear wanton takes to bed 
 
 Her very shoes because they're fellows." 
 
 Selwyn died at his house in Cleveland Row, 
 January 25, 179L He had been for many years a 
 severe sufferer from gout and dropsy: and Wilber- 
 force describes him as looking latterly like the wax 
 figure of a corpse. He continued to haunt the clubs 
 till within a sliort period before his death ; but Mr. 
 Jesse assures us that he died penitent, and that the 
 Bible was frequently read to him, at his own request, 
 during his last illness. By his will he gave 33,000/. 
 to ]\Iaria Fagniani ; 100/. each to his two nepliews ;
 
 176 GEORGE SELWYN: 
 
 his wardrobe and 30/. a year to his valet ; and the 
 residue of his property to the Duke of Qaeensberry, 
 with the exception of Ludgershall, which was en- 
 tailed on the Townshend fiunily. Mr. Jesse quotes 
 some lines from a j^oetical tribute published soon after 
 his death, in whicli the Graces are invoked to fulfil 
 several appropriate duties — 
 
 " And fondly dictate to the faithful Muse 
 The prime distinction of the friend they lose. 
 'Twas social wit, which, never kindling strife, 
 Blazed in the small sweet courtesies of life." 
 
 Had we been at the writer's elbow, we would have 
 suggested shone or glowed in preference to blazed. 
 
 AValpole, writing to Miss Berry on the day of 
 Selwyn's death, says — " I am on the point of losing 
 or have lost, my oldest acquaintance and friend, 
 George Selwyn, who was yesterday at the extremity. 
 These misfortunes, though they can be so but for a 
 short time, are very sensible to the old ; but him I 
 really loved, not only for his infinite wit, but for a 
 thousand good qualities," Again — " Poor Selwyn 
 is gone, to my sorrow ; and no wonder Ucalegon feels 
 it!" 
 
 The heartlessness of the French set, to which 
 Selwyn and Walpole belonged, is beyond a question. 
 Madame du Deffimd's colloquy with one lover, as to 
 the cause of their fifty years' unbroken harmony — 
 " N^est ce pas que, jjendant tout ce terns Id, nous avons 
 ete souverainement indiffere?is Tun d Vautre''^ — and her 
 behaviour on the death of another, are not invented 
 pleasantries, but melancholy facts. Yet, either we 
 were wrong in supposing that the malady was in- 
 fectious, and Miss Berry was right in her generous 
 and able vindication of her friend, or Selwyn pos- 
 sessed the peculiar talismanic power of kindling and 
 fixing the affections of his associates ; for not only 
 does Walpole invariably mention him when living.
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 177 
 
 and mourn over him when dead, in terms of heartfelt 
 sincerity, but the same influence appears to have 
 operated on one, whom (possibly with equal injustice) 
 we should have suspected of being, in his own despite, 
 a little hardened by a long course of selfish indul- 
 gences — Lord March. Here are a few, and but a few, 
 of the proofs : — 
 
 " As to your banker," says his Lordship, " I will call there 
 to-morrow ; make yourself easy about that, for I have three 
 thousand pounds now at Coutts's. There will be no bank- 
 ruptcy without we are both ruined at the same time. — How 
 can you think, my dear George, and I hope you do not 
 think, that anybody, or anything, can make a tracasserie 
 between you and me ? I take it ill that you even talk of it, 
 which you do in the letter I had by Ligonier. I must be 
 the i^oorest creature upon earth — after having known you 
 so long, and always as the best and sincerest friend that 
 any one ever had — if any one alive can make any impres- 
 sion upon me when you are concerned. I told you, in a 
 letter some time ago, that I depended more upon the con- 
 tinuance of our friendship than anything else in the world, 
 which I certainly do, because I have so many reasons to know 
 you, and I am sure I know myself" 
 
 This speaks well for both head and heart ; and how 
 much unhappiness would be prevented by the universal 
 adoption of the principle — never to listen to, much 
 less believe, the alleged unkindness of a friend. All 
 of us have our dissatisfied, complaining, uncongenial 
 moments, when we may neglect ordinary attentions, 
 or let "drop words utterly at variance with the 
 habitual suggestions of our hearts. These are repeated 
 from design or carelessness : then come complaints 
 and explanations; confidence is destroyed; "the cre- 
 dulous hope of mutual minds is over ; " and thus ends 
 at once the solace of a life. 
 
 Lord IMarch's letters are, on the whole, the most 
 valuable in the collection — most characteristic of the 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 GEORGE selwyn: 
 
 writer, and most redolent of tlie times. This un- | 
 
 folding of his private relations and inmost feelings is 
 highly favourable to him. As we see him now, he is 
 the very impersonation of his class — shrewd, sensible, 
 observing, generous, and affectionate, amid all his 
 profligacy. His letters are dashed off in clear, manly, 
 unaffected language, on the spur of the occasion ; and 
 although they are actually better written than those 
 of many of his noble contemporaries who pretended 
 to literature, it is obvious that the last thing he ever 
 thought of was the style. Walpole's are epistolary 
 compositions ; Lord March's are letters in the plain 
 ordinary acceptation of the term. Their idiomatic 
 ease reminds us of Byron's, and in their ^pregnant 
 brevity they often resemble Swift's hasty dottings 
 down of public events or private chit-chat in the 
 journal to Stella : — 
 
 " November, 1766. 
 " My dear George, — I intended to have written to you 
 last Tuesday, but we sat so late at the House of Lords 
 that I had no time. It was a dull debate, though it lasted 
 a great while. Lord Cliatham spoke very well, and with 
 a great deal of temper, and great civility towards the 
 Duke of Bedford ; who spoke and approved of the measure 
 at the time of laying the embargo, because of the neces- 
 sity ; but complained of Parliament not being called sooner, 
 because what had been done was illegal, and only to be 
 justified from necessity, which was the turn of the whole 
 debate. Lord Mansfield trianned in his usual manner, and 
 avoided declariog his opinion, though he argued for the il- 
 legality. Lord Camden attacked him very close upon not 
 speaking out his opinion, and declared strongly for the 
 legality. Upon the whole, I think we shall have very little 
 to do in Parliament, and your attendance will be very little 
 wanted." 
 
 This was Lord Chatham's first appearance in the 
 House of Lords. Li letters dated the same month 
 we find : —
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 179 
 
 " Monday, 19tli November, 1766. 
 '^ My dear George, — For fear that I should not have any- 
 other moment to write to you, I write this in the King's 
 rooms. I was obhged to dress early to come here, it being 
 the princess's birth-day. I dine at Lord Hertford's, Avhich, 
 with the ball at night, will take up the whole day; you know 
 that he is chamberlain. The Duke of Bedford comes to-day, 
 and on Wednesday, I suppose, they will kiss hands ; but 
 nothing is known. Every body agrees that this resignation 
 of the Cavendishes is, of all the resignations, the most 
 foolish ; and I hear they begin already to repent of it. They 
 make a fine opportunity for Chatham to strengthen his ad- 
 ministration. They want T. Pelham to resign ; Ashburnham 
 certainly will now. The only people that do well are those 
 that never resign ; which Lord Hertford seems to have 
 found out long ago. Saunders and Keppel resign to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 "November, 1766. 
 
 *' My dear George, — Jack Shelley has kissed hands for 
 Lord Edgecombe's place. He was offered to be of the 
 Bedchamber, which he has refused, and wants to have the 
 Post-office, w^hich they won't give him. I find it is imagined 
 that we shall he obliged to send troops into North America, to 
 bring them to a proper obedience. It is whispered about that 
 the Cavendishes, and Rockingham's friends, will take the 
 first opportunity they can to be hostile to Government: and 
 likewise, that Norton and Wedderburne will certainly op- 
 pose. If these things are so, we may perhaps have some 
 more convulsions in the state." 
 
 Such letters are excellent correctives of history ; 
 but we are not writing history just now, and must 
 turn to those which throw light on manners : — 
 
 " Ilinchinbrooke, Thursday (1770). 
 
 "My dear George, — Our party at AVakefiekl went off 
 very well. AVe had hunting, racing, whist, and quinzc. 
 My horse won, as I expected, but the odds were upon him, so 
 that I betted very little. 
 
 " After hunting on Monday I went to Ossory's, where I 
 lay in my way here. He came with me, and went back 
 
 N 2
 
 1 80 GEORGE SELWYN : 
 
 jesterday. I imagine he would have liked to have stayed 
 if Lady Ossory had not been alone. They live l)ut a dull 
 life, and there must be a ^reat deal of love on both sides 
 not to tire. I almost promised to go back for Bedford 
 races, but believe I shall not. I go to Newmarket to-night, 
 and to London to-morrow. Sandwich's house is full of 
 people, and all sorts of things going forward. Miss Ray 
 does the honours perfectly well. While I am writing they 
 are all upon the grass-plot at a foot race." 
 
 To make this intellio-ible, we must ""o behind the 
 scenes. Wakefield Lodfre was the seat of the minister 
 Duke of Grafton, Lady Ossory Avas his ci-devant 
 duchess. She had divorced him on account of his 
 intimacy with Nancy Parsons, described by Walpole 
 as " one of the commonest creatures in London : once 
 much liked, but out of date. He is certainly grown 
 immensely attached to her ; so much so, that it has put 
 an end to all his decorum." The culpable excesses into 
 which the Duke was hurried by his passion, are thus 
 stigmatised by Junius: — "It is not the private in- 
 dulgence, but the public insult of which I complain. 
 The name of Miss Parsons would hardly have been 
 known, if the First Lord of the Treasury had not led 
 her in triumph through the Opera-house, even in the 
 presence of the Queen." Hinchinbrooke, from which 
 Lord March's letter is dated, was the seat of Lord 
 Sandwich, another Cabinet Minister. Miss Ray, 
 who did the honours so well, was his mistress — shot 
 at Covent Garden in 1779. The story is told by 
 Dr. Warner in a paragraph which may serve as a 
 pattern of good condensation : — 
 
 a 
 
 The history of Hackraan, Miss Ray's murderer, is this. 
 He was recruiting at Huntingdon ; appeared at the ball ; 
 was asked by Lord Sandwich to Hinchinbrooke ; was intro- 
 duced to Miss Ray ; became violently enamoured of her ; 
 made proposals, and was sent into Ireland where his regi- 
 ment was. He sold out ; came back on purpose to be near
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 181 
 
 the object of his affection ; took orders, but could not bend 
 the inflexible fair in a black coat more than in a red. He 
 could not live without her. He meant only to kill himself, 
 and that in her presence ; but seeing her coquet it at the play 
 with a young Irish templar, Macnamara, he determined sud- 
 denly to despatch her too. He is to be tried on Friday, and 
 hanged on Monday." 
 
 The Morning Post for April 9, 1799, has this an- 
 nouncement : — " When the news of the above mis- 
 fortune was carried to the AdmiraUy, it was received 
 by her noble admirer with the utmost concern. He 
 wept exceedingly, and lamented, with every other 
 token of grief, the interruption of a connexion which 
 had lasted for seventeen years, with great and unin- 
 terrupted felicity on both sides." 
 
 The catching character of notorious insanity has 
 often been remarked. While the Hackman affair 
 w^as the popular topic, it seems that no woman, 
 young or old, ugly or pretty, could venture forth 
 without alarm. Lady Ossory writes : — 
 
 " This Asiatic weather has certainly affected our cold 
 constitutions. The Duchess of B is afraid of being- 
 shot wherever she goes. A man has followed Miss Cla- 
 vering on foot from the East Indies ; is quite mad ; and 
 scenes are daily expected even in the drawing-room. An- 
 other man has sworn to shoot a Miss Something, li'importe, 
 if she did not run away with him from the 0{)era. 
 
 " Sir Joshua Reynolds has a niece who is troubled Avith 
 one of these passionate admirers, to whom she has refused 
 her hand and her door. He came a few days since to Sir 
 Joshua's, asked if she was at home, and on being answered 
 in the negative, he desired the footman to tell her to take 
 care, for he was determined to ravish her (pardon the word) 
 whenever he met her. Keep our little friend (]Mie Mie) at 
 Paris whilst this mania lasts, for no ngc will be spared to be 
 in fashion, and I am sure Mie jNlie is quite as much in 
 danger as the person I quoted in my first page." 
 
 Before auotinf:: those letters of Lord March Avhich 
 
 N 3
 
 182 GEOKGE SELWYN : 
 
 refer to topics of a strictly personal character, we 
 will mention the few authentic particulars that have 
 been recorded of him. 
 
 He was born in 1725, succeeded his father in the 
 earldom of March in 1731, his mother in the earldom 
 of Kuglen in 1748, and his cousin in the dukedom of 
 Queensberry in 1778, being then in his iifty-third 
 year. Few men of his day acquired greater notoriety, 
 or were more an object of inquiry and speculation ; 
 yet he took little part in political events, except so 
 far as his own interests were affected by them, and it 
 would have been better for his reputation had he 
 taken none. When the King's inalady grew serious 
 in 1788, he gave in his allegiance to Fox, and on the 
 recovery of his royal master, was unceremoniously 
 dismissed from his situation of lord of the bed- 
 chamber, which he had held for twenty-eight years 
 notwithstanding the known profligacy of his life. 
 Wraxall says he took a journey to Windsor to learn 
 the exact condition of the King, but was misled by 
 Dr. Warren. The dismissal mattered little. His 
 business was pleasure, his passions were women and 
 the turf; and he contrived to gratify both, without 
 impairing either his fortune or his constitution. As 
 regards the turf, he was thoroughly versed in all its 
 mysteries, and seldom indulged in any sort of gaming 
 unconnected with it, or relating to matters where any 
 undue advantage could be taken of him. On the 
 contrary, he was generally on the look-out for oppor- 
 tunities of turning his own shrewdness and coolness 
 to account. A curious instance is related in Edge- 
 worth's memoirs. 
 
 Lord March had noticed a coachmaker's journey- 
 man running with a wheel, and on minuting him by 
 a stop-watch, found that he actually ran a consider- 
 able distance faster with it than most men could run 
 unencumbered. A waiter in Betty's fruit- shop was
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 183 
 
 famous for speed. Lord March adroitly introduced 
 the topic, and, by maintaining what appeared a 
 paradox, easily got bets offered to a large amount, 
 that the Avaiter would run faster for a mile than any 
 one could run with the hind-wheel of his lordship's 
 carria2:e, then standino^ at the door. But he had 
 committed a triflino^ oversight. The wheel was lower 
 than the wheel the man was used to run with ; and 
 the biter would have been bit, had not Sir Francis 
 Blake Delaval suggested an expedient. The night 
 before the match, planks were obtained from the 
 Board of \yorks, and a raised groove, for the wheel 
 • to run in, was constructed across the course. The 
 
 journeyman won, and the Jockey Club decided in 
 Lord March's favour. 
 
 Another of his bets came before the Court of 
 King's Bench. He had laid a wager of five hun- 
 dred guineas with young Mr. Pigot, that old Mr. 
 Pigot (the father) would die before Sir William 
 Codrington. Old Mr. Pigot died the same morning 
 before the makino- of the wao-er, but neither of the 
 parties was acquainted with the fact. The Court 
 held that the dutiful and hopeful heir must pay. A 
 startling example of this style of bet is mentioned by 
 Walpole. " I, t'other night at White's, found a very 
 remarkable entry in our very remarkable wager-book. 
 
 Lord bets Sir twenty guineas, that Nash 
 
 outlives Cibber. How odd that these two old creatures 
 should live to see both their wager ers put an end to 
 their own lives ! " Lord March's rate of betting Avas 
 never very high. The largest sum he appears to have 
 won or lost at any race or meeting, during the period 
 over whicli this correspondence extends, was 4100/., 
 and this is mentioned as a rare occurrence. 
 
 He also mana2:ed his intercourse with the fair sex 
 in such a manner, as to prevent them from interfering 
 with his peace or even his caprices ; and few things 
 
 N 4
 
 184 
 
 GEOKGE SELWYN : 
 
 are more amusing than his mode of keeping his occa- 
 sional liaisons from chishing with his permanent ones 
 — for we are obhged to speak of both classes in the 
 plural number. His parting with one of his favour- 
 ites is peculiarly touching : — 
 
 " I am just preparing to conduct the poor little Tondino to 
 Dover. My heart is so full that I can neither think, speak, 
 nor write. How I shall be able to part with her, or bear to 
 come back to this house, I do not know. The sound of her 
 voice fills my eyes with fresh tears. My dear George, J'ai 
 le coeur si serve que je ne suis hon a present qu'a j)leurer. Take 
 all the care you can of her. Je la recommende a vous, my 
 best and only real friend." 
 
 In return for the care Selwyn was to take of the 
 Tondino, Lord March, it seems, was to keep an eye 
 to Raton : — 
 
 " I wrote to you last night, but I quite forgot Raton. I 
 have not had him to see me to-day, having been the whole 
 morning in the city with Lady H., but I have sent to your 
 maid, and she says that her little king is perfectly well, and 
 in great spirits." 
 
 Besides the Tondino, Selwyn had the principal care 
 of the Rena, a beautiful Italian, who stood in nearly 
 the same relation to Lord March as INladame de 
 Pompadour to Louis the Fifteenth. That sagacious 
 favourite, it will be remembered, troubled herself 
 very little about the Pare aux Cerfs so long as she 
 retained the chief place in his Majesty's confidence. 
 Queen Caroline is said to have preserved her influence 
 over George the Second by the same policy. The 
 Rena's prudence was put to a severe trial by the 
 arrival of Signora Zamperini, a noted dancer and 
 singer, in 1766. His lordship writes to Selwyn in 
 Paris : — 
 
 " I wish I had set out immediately after Newmarket, 
 which I believe I should have done, if I had not taken a 
 
 I
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 185 
 
 ■violent fancy for one of the opera girls. Tliis passion is a 
 little abated, and I hope it will be quite so before you and 
 the Rena come over, else I fear it will interrupt our society. 
 But whatever is the case, as I have a real friendship and 
 aftection for the Rena, I shall show her every mark of regard 
 and consideration, and be vastly happy to see her. I con- 
 sider her as a friend, and certainly as one that I love very 
 much ; and as such, I hope she will have some indulgence for 
 my follies." 
 
 A few days afterwards he writes : — 
 
 " The Rena must be mad if she takes any thing of this 
 sort in a serious way. If she does, there is an end to our 
 society. If she does not, we shall go on as we did. I am 
 sure I have all the regard in the world for her, for I love her 
 vastly, and I shall certainly contrive to make her as easy and 
 as happy as I can. I like this little girl, but how long this 
 liking will last, I cannot tell ; it may increase, or be quite at 
 an end before you arrive." 
 
 His lordship had not attained to equal proficiency 
 with Madame de Girardin's hero : " Albert ne viendra 
 pas — il est amoureux pour une quinzaine ; 11 me I'a 
 dit, et il est toujours a la minute dans ces choses- 
 la." In a subsequent letter, we find all three (the 
 Tondino, the Rena, and the Zamperini) mixed up 
 together. 
 
 " You see what a situation I am in with my little Biiffa. 
 She is the prettiest creature that ever was seen ; in short, I 
 like her vastly, and she likes me, because I give her money. 
 
 " I have had a letter from the Tondino to-day. She tells 
 me that she never passed her time so well at Paris as she 
 does now : ' Monsieur du Ban-i est un homme charmante, et 
 nous donne des bals avcc dcs Princesses.^ Pray, my dear 
 George, find out something that will be agreeable to the little 
 Teresina. Considt the Rena about it. 
 
 *' I shall write two or three words to the Rena by this 
 post. I told her, in my last letter, that I was supposed to 
 be very much in love with the Zamperini, which certainly 
 would not prevent me from being very happy to sec her. I
 
 186 GEORGE selwyn: 
 
 have been too long accustomed to live with her not to like 
 her, or to be able to forget her, and there is nothing that 
 would give me more pain than not to be able to live with her 
 upon a footing of great intimacy and friendship; hut I am 
 always afraid of every event where women are concerned — they 
 are all so exceedingly wronyheaded.^'' 
 
 It might be deemed useless, if not impertinent, to 
 keep on repeating that obviously wrong things are 
 wrong ; but, in connexion with the next extract, the 
 reader should bear in mind, that, at the time in ques- 
 tion and for twelve years afterwards, the writer was 
 a lord of the bedchamber in the decorous court of 
 George the Third and Queen Charlotte : — "I was 
 prevented from writing to you last Friday, by being 
 at Newmarket with my little girl. I had the whole 
 family and Cocchi. The beauty went with me in my 
 chaise, and the rest in the old landau." 
 
 The family consisted of father, mother, and sister. 
 " As March finds a difficulty (says Williams) in 
 separating her from that rascally garlic tribe, whose 
 very existence depends on her beauty, I do not think 
 he means to make her what our friend the countess 
 (the Rena) was." In another place " March goes on 
 but heavily with his poor child (she was only fifteen). 
 He looks miserable, and yet he takes her off in her 
 opera-dress every night in his chariot." 
 
 Numerous allusions, in these volumes, show that 
 Lord March was not devoid of taste for female so- 
 ciety of a better order. He is repeatedly spoken of 
 as about to marry this or that young lady of quality; 
 and Wraxall says that he cherished an ardent passion 
 for Miss Pelham, the daughter of the minister, who 
 persevered in refusing his consent to their union on 
 account of the dissipated habits of the peer. He 
 died unmarried, and continued his libertine habits till 
 his death. During the first ten years of the present 
 century, " Old Q.," as he was popularly called, might
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 187 
 
 constantly be seen in the bow-window of his house in 
 Piccadilly (now divided into the two houses occupied 
 by Lord Cadogan and Lord Rosebery), examining the 
 street passengers through an eyeglass with his re- 
 maining eye (it was currently stated that the other 
 was of glass), and when a woman or a horse struck 
 his fancy, an emissary was instantly despatched to 
 make inquiries. That no time might be lost, a pony was 
 always kept saddled for the purpose. " It is a fact," 
 says Wraxall, "that he performed in his own draw- 
 ino:-room the scene of Paris and the o;oddesses. This 
 classic exhibition took place in his house opposite the 
 Green Park." We do not believe that any exhibition 
 took place at all — founding our scepticism more on 
 the folly than the vice ; yet it is melancholy to think 
 to what human nature may be degraded by sensuality. 
 
 A striking illustration of his shrewdness was given 
 by Lord Brougham, in his evidence before the Lords' 
 Committee on Lord Campbell's Libel Bill : — " The 
 late Duke of Queensberry was a great alarmist in 
 1792, like many other very noble, very rich, and 
 very honourable men. He thought there was an end 
 of all things, and he used to be abusing principally 
 the seditious writers of the day, giving them and 
 their authors ill names in great abundance and 
 variety, as infamous, detestable, abominable — when 
 one day some toad-eater who attended his person, 
 added, ' Ay, indeed, and full of such falsehoods.' 
 ' No,' said the duke, ' not falsehoods — they are all 
 so true ; that is what makes them so abominable and 
 so dangerous.' If his grace had felt all that was said 
 on the corruptions of parliament and office to be 
 groundless, he would have let them write on in the 
 same strain to the end of time." 
 
 A characteristic trait has been preserved by Mr. 
 Wilberforce : — " I always observe that the owners of 
 your grand houses have some snug corner in which
 
 188 GEORGE SELWYN : 
 
 they are glad to shelter themselves from their own 
 magnificence. I remember dining, when I was a 
 young man, with the Duke of Queensberry, at his l! 
 Richmond villa. The party was very small and select 
 — Pitt, Lord and Lady Chatham, the Duchess of ■ 
 Gordon, and George Selwyn (who lived for society, I 
 and continued in it till he looked really like the wax- 
 work figure of a corpse), were amongst the guests. 
 We dined early, tliat some of our party might be ready 
 to attend the opera. The dinner was sumptuous, the 
 views from the villa quite enchanting, and the Thames 
 in all its glory ; but the duke looked on with in- 
 difference. ' What is there,' he said, ' to make so 
 much of in the Thames? I am quite tired of it — 
 there it goes, flow, flow, flow, always the same.' " 
 
 This is precisely what we should have expected 
 from the Duke ; and no one was better qualified than 
 Mr. Wilberforce to explain why the glorious scene 
 before them was a sealed book to the worn volup- 
 tuary — why his spirit's eye was blind to it — why 
 every simple, innocent, unforced gratification was 
 denied to him — wdiy the full enjoyment of natural 
 beauty and sublimity is reserved for men of purer 
 lives and higher minds than his. 
 
 The Duke's notions of comfort, on which his opinion 
 was worth having, were expressed in a letter to 
 Selwyn : — "I wish you were here (the place is not 
 stated). It is just the house you would wish to be 
 in. There is an excellent library ; a good parson ; 
 the best English and French cookery you ever tasted ; 
 strong coffee, and half-crown whist." 
 
 It has been stated that he paid his physicians on 
 the j)lan adopted by the Chinese emperors — so much 
 per week for keeping him alive. If so, he cheated 
 them ; for the immediate cause of his death was im- 
 prudence in eating fruit. lie died in 1810, firm and 
 self-possessed. His deathbed was literally covered
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 189 
 
 with unopened billets (more than seventy) from 
 women of all classes, which he ordered to be laid on 
 the counterpane as they were brought in. His per- 
 sonal property exceeded a million, and his will, with 
 its twenty-five codicils, was a curious document. lie 
 left 150,000/. and three houses to Mie Mie, and made 
 her husband (the late Marquis of Hertford, a con- 
 genial spirit) his residuary legatee. 
 
 Selwyn's most intimate friends and frequent corre- 
 spondents, after the Duke, were George James (alias 
 Gilly) AVilliams, and Lord Carlisle. 
 
 Of Williams, little is known. He Avas the son of 
 Peere Williams, the compiler of three volumes of 
 Chancery cases, highly esteemed by equity lawyers. 
 He was connected by marriage with Lord North, and, 
 in 1774, was appointed Receiver-General of Excise. 
 Selwyn, Edgecumbe, Walpole, and AVilliams used to 
 meet at stated periods at Strawberry Hill, and form 
 what AValpole called his out-of-town party, Gilly 's 
 letters convey a highly favourable impression of his 
 social pleasantry ; and it seems that he soon acquired 
 some reputation as a wit : — " I have desired Lord R. 
 Bertie (he writes in 1751) to propose me at White's. 
 Don't let any member shake his head at me for a 
 wit ; for, God knows, he may as well reject me for 
 being a giant." 
 
 Frederick, fifth earl of Carlisle, was a remarkable 
 man in many ways. He filled some important public 
 situations with credit ; and, on his being appointed 
 Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, his intimate friend, Storer, 
 writes — " I wish he was Secretary of State. It is a 
 joke to think it too high a step. I am of the old 
 King's opinion, that a man in this country is jit for any 
 place he can get^ and I am sure Carlisle will be fit for 
 any place he will take." 
 
 In literature, he distinguished himself as a poet ; 
 but unluckily he is principally known in that capacity
 
 190 GEORGE SELWYN: 
 
 througli Lord Byron, who, in liis English Bards and 
 Scotch Reviewers^ levels twelve unjust und acrimonious 
 lines at him. In the first sketch of the poem, these 
 twelve lines were wanting, and their place was occu- 
 pied by two — 
 
 " On one alone Apollo deigns to smile, 
 And crowns a new llosconimon in Carlisle." 
 
 Lord Carlisle had offended his young relation, 
 between the writing and the printing of the poem, by 
 refusino; to introduce him on his takinc;; his seat in 
 the House of Lords. Lord Byron afterwards deeply 
 regretted the injury. There is a beautiful atonement 
 in the third canto of Childe Harold ; and in writing, ^ 
 
 in 1814, to Mr. Rogers, he thus expresses himself — 
 " Is there any chance or possibility of making it up 
 with Lord Carlisle, as I feel disposed to do anything, 
 reasonable or unreasonable, to effect it ? " 
 
 In early youth. Lord Carlisle, endowed with warm 
 feelings, a lively fancy, and an excitable disposition, 
 was peculiarly liable to be led astray by the temp- 
 tations which assail young men of rank. In 1769, 
 being then in his twenty-first year, he went abroad, 
 desperately in love with some wedded fair one. She 
 forms the burthen of many a paragraph in his letters 
 to Selwyn ; who, though nearly thirty years older, 
 entered warmly into all his feelings. 
 
 i( 
 
 I thought I had got the better of that extravagant passion, 
 but I find I am relapsed again. I tremble at the consequences 
 of the meeting, and yet I have not the courage, even in thought, 
 to oppose its temptations. I shall exert all the firmness I am 
 capable of, which, God knows, is very little, upon that 
 occasion. If I am received with coolness, I shall feel it 
 severely. I shall be miserable if 1 am made too welcome. 
 Good God ! what happiness would I not exchange, to be able 
 to live with her without loving her more than friendship will 
 allow ! Is my picture hung up, or is it in the passage with 
 its face turned to the walla ? " 
 
 i
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 101 
 
 From tlie allusion to the picture, and other indi- 
 cations, it is clear that the mysterious lady (who 
 has given rise to much surmise) was the beautiful 
 Lady Sarah Bunbury (7iee Lennox), whom it is said 
 George III. would have married, had he been allowed. 
 His Majesty gave up his own wishes for the good of 
 the country, but the impression remained. Mrs. 
 Pope, the actress, was very like Lady Sarah. On one 
 occasion at the theatre, many years after his marriage, 
 the King turned round to the Queen in a fit of melan- 
 choly abstraction, and said, pointing to Mrs. Pope, 
 " She is like Lady Sarah still." 
 
 Lord Carlisle got the better of this passion, and 
 married at twenty-two. It Avould have been well for 
 his peace of mind had he been equally successful in 
 getting the better of a still more fatal one for play. 
 Letter after letter is filled with good resolutions, 
 but the infatuation was too strong. The blow came 
 at last : — 
 
 " July, 1776. 
 " My Dear George. — I have undone myself, and it is to na 
 purpose to conceal from you my abominable madness and 
 follv, though perhaps the particulars may not be known to 
 the rest of the world. I never lost so much in five times as 
 I have done to-night, and am in debt to the house for the 
 ■whole. You may be sure I do not tell you this with an idea 
 that you can be of the least assistance to me ; it is a great 
 deal more than your abilities are equal to. Let me see you, 
 though I shall be ashamed to look at you after your goodness 
 to me." 
 
 This letter is endorsed by Selwyn, " After the loss 
 of the ten thousand pounds ; " which, following on 
 other losses, appears to have sunk the Earl to the 
 lowest depths of despondency. 
 
 " I do protest to you, that 1 am so tired of my present 
 manner of passing my time — however I viay he kept in conn-
 
 192 GEORGE selwyn: 
 
 teyiance hy the number of those of my oivn rank and superior 
 fortune — that I never reflect on it loithout shame. If they 
 will employ inc In any j)art of the world, I will accept the 
 employment ; let it tear me, as It will, from every thing dear 
 to me in this country. * * * 
 
 " If any of our expectations should be gratified in the 
 winter, I cannot expect anything sufficient to balance the 
 expenses of living in London. If I accept anything, I must 
 attend Parliament — I must live in London. If I am not 
 treated with consideration, I can live here ; if that can be 
 called living, Avhich is wasting the best years of ray life in 
 obscurity : without society to dit^pel the gloom of a northern 
 climate ; left to myself to brood over my follies and indis- 
 cretions ; to see my children deprived of education by those 
 follies and indiscretions ; to be forgotten ; to lose my temper ; 
 to be neglected ; to become cross and morose to-vthose whom 
 I have most reason to love ! Except that the welfare and 
 interest of others depend upon my existence, I should not wish 
 that existence to be of lony dwation." 
 
 So thought and felt a man apparently possessed of 
 every blessing — youth, health, talent, birth, fortune, 
 connexion, consideration, and domestic ties of the 
 most endearing kind — 
 
 " Medio de fonte leporum 
 
 I 
 
 Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat." 
 
 The very accident (miscalled advantage) of his 
 position, commends the poisoned chalice to his lips, 
 and the lord of Castle Howard lono;s for death at 
 twenty- seven ! But a truce to reflection till we have 
 introduced another and more memorable subject for 
 it. Lord Carlisle's embarrassments were inextricably 
 mixed up with those of Charles James Fox ; and it 
 can therefore hardly be deemed a digression to turn 
 at once to the passages in these volumes which relate 
 to him. The few letters of his own that occur in 
 them, are principally remarkable for ease and sim- 
 plicity. For example : —
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 193 
 
 " Paris, Nov. 1770. 
 " Quantities of cousins visit us ; amongst the rest the 
 Duke of Berwick. What an animal it is ! I supped last 
 night with Lauzun, Fitz-James, and some others, at what 
 they call a Cloh a VAnglaise. It was in a petite maison of 
 Lauzun's. There was Madame Briseau, and two other 
 women. The supper was execrably bad. However, the 
 champagne and tokay were excellent ; notwithstanding which 
 the fools made (hi ponche with bad rum. This club is to 
 meet every Saturday, either here or at Versailles. I am glad 
 to see that we cannot be foolisher in point of imitation than 
 they are." 
 
 Principally through Selwyn's introduction, Fox 
 was on a familiar footing with Madame du Deffand 
 and her set : — 
 
 " Madame Geoffrin m'a chante la palbiodie. I dine there 
 to-day ; she inquires after you very much. I have supped 
 at Madame du DefFand's, who asked me if 1 was deja sous la 
 tutele de M. Selvin ? I boasted that I was." 
 
 In August 23, 1771, he writes: — 
 
 " I am reading Clarendon, but scarcely get on faster than 
 you did with your Charles the Fifth. I think the style bad, 
 and that he has a good deal of the old woman in his way of 
 thinking, but hate the opposite party so much that it gives one 
 a kind of partiality for himJ'^ 
 
 Fox's marvellous powers as a debater were re- 
 marked very soon after his first entrance into Parlia- 
 ment. In March, 1770, his delighted father writes 
 to Selwyn : — 
 
 " You know by this time that your panegyric upon Charles 
 came about an hour after I had wrote mine to you of the 9th. 
 He writes word that upon February the twelfth he spoke 
 very ill. I do not mind that, and when he speaks so well as 
 to be, as Lady Mary says, the wonder of the age, it does not 
 give me so much pleasure as what you, very justly I think, 
 tell mc de son cosur. And yet that may not signify. I have 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 194 GEORGE SELWYN : 
 
 been honest and good-natured, nor can I repent of it ; tliouglr 
 convinced now that honesty is not tlie best policy, and that 
 good-nature does not meet with the return it ought to do." 
 
 It may be doubted whether his lordship had tried 
 honesty long or steadily enough to qualify him for 
 disputing the received doctrine on the strength of his 
 personal experience. 
 
 It appears from a letter addressed by Lord Carlisle 
 to Lady Holland (Fox's mother) in 1773, that he had 
 become security for Fox to the amount of fifteen or 
 sixteen thousand pounds ; and a letter to Selwyn, in 
 1777, puts the ruinous character of their gambling 
 transactions in the strons-est lisiht. Lord Ilchester 
 (Fox's cousin) had lost thirteen thousand" pounds at 
 one sitting to Lord Carlisle, who oiFered to take three 
 thousand pounds down. Nothing was paid ; but ten 
 years afterwards, when Lord Carlisle pressed for his 
 money, he complains that an attempt was made to 
 construe the offer into a remission of the ten thou- 
 sand pounds; — 
 
 " The only way, in honour, that Lord I. could have 
 accepted my offer, would have been by taking some steps to 
 pay the 3000/. I remained in a state of uncertainty, I think, 
 for nearly three years ; but his taking no notice of it during 
 that time convinced me that he had no intention of availing 
 himself of it. Charles Fox was also at a much earlier period 
 clear that he never meant to accept it. There is also great 
 justice in the behaviour of the family in passing by the in- 
 stantaneous payment of, I believe, five thousand pounds to 
 Charles, won at the same sitting, without any observations. 
 At one period of the play, I remember there teas a balance in 
 favour of one of those gentlemen, but of which I protest I do 
 not remember, of about Jifty thousand.^^ 
 
 At the time in question, Fox was hardly eighteen. 
 The following letter from Lord Carlisle, written in 
 1771, contains some highly interesting information
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 195 
 
 respecting tlie youthful habits, and ah^eady vast intel- 
 lectual pre-eminence, of the embryo statesman: — 
 
 " It gives me great pain to hear that Charles begins to be 
 um-easonably impatient at losing. I fear it is the prologue 
 to much fretfulness of temper; for disappointment in raising 
 money, and any serious reflections upon his situation, will (in 
 spite of his affected spirits and dissipation, which sit very 
 well upon Richard) occasion him many disagreeable moments. 
 They will be the more painful, when he reflects that he is not 
 following the natural bent of his genius; for that would lead 
 him to all serious inquiry and laudable pursuits, which he has 
 in some measure neglected, to hear Lord Bolingbroke's ap- 
 plause, and now is obliged to have recourse to it, and play, to 
 hinder him from thinking how he has perverted the ends for 
 which he was born. / believe there never tvas a person yet 
 created who had the faculty of reasoning like him. His judg- 
 ments are never wrong ; his decision is formed quicker than any 
 man^s I ever conversed icith ; and he never seems to mistake hut 
 in his own affairs.'''' 
 
 Lord Carlisle's fears proved groundless in one re- 
 spect. Fox's sweetness of temper remained with him 
 to the last ; but it is most painful to think how much 
 mankind has lost through his recklessness. There is 
 no saying what might not have been effected by such 
 a man, had he simply followed the example of his 
 great rival in one respect. " We played a good deal 
 at Goosetree's," says AVilberforce, " and I well remem- 
 ber the intense earnestness which Pitt displayed when 
 joining in these games of chance. He perceived their 
 increasing fascination, and soon after abandoned it for 
 ever." AVilberforce's own cure is thus recorded by 
 his biographers, on the authority of his private 
 Journal: — "We can have no play to-night," com- 
 plained some of the party at the club, " for St. 
 Andrew is not here to keep bank. ' Wilberforce,' 
 said Mr. Bankes, who never joined himself, 'if j^ou 
 will keep it, I will give you a guinea.' The playful 
 challenge was accepted, but as the game grew deep, 
 
 o 2
 
 196 GEORGE SELWYN : 
 
 he rose the winner of 600/. ]\Iuch of this was lost 
 by those who were only heirs to future fortunes, and 
 could not therefore meet such a call without incon- 
 venience. The pain he felt at their annoyance cured 
 him of a taste which seemed but too likely to become 
 predominant." 
 
 Goosetree's being then almost exclusively composed 
 of incipient orators and embryo statesmen, the call 
 for a gaming-table there may be regarded as a deci- 
 sive proof of the universal prevalence of the vice. 
 But most of these were the friends and followers of 
 Pitt; and when his star gained the ascendant, idleness 
 was no longer the order of the day among politicians, 
 and rising young men gave up faro and ^hazard for 
 Blackstone and Adam Smith. We know of no can- 
 didate for high office, entering public life after 1784, 
 who did not affect prudence and propriety ; and pro- 
 bably we shall never again see a parliamentary leader 
 aspire, like Bolingbroke, 
 
 " To shine a Tully and a Wilmot too." 
 
 Gaming, however, continued a blot on our manners 
 and morals for many years afterwards ; and it may not 
 be uninstructive to trace its progress and decline. 
 
 During the whole of the last century, gaming of 
 some sort was an ordinary amusement for both sexes 
 in the best society. In General Burgoyne's play of 
 "The Heiress," Mrs. Blandish exclaims — "Time 
 thrown away in the country ! as if women of fashion 
 left London to turn freckled shepherdesses ! No, no ; 
 cards, cards and backs^ammon, are the delisfhts of 
 rural life ; and, slightly as you may think of my skill, 
 at the year's end I am no inconsiderable sharer in the 
 pin-money of my society." Till near the commence- 
 ment of the present, the favourite game was faro ; 
 and, as it was a decided advantage to hold the Bank, 
 masters and mistresses of noble houses, less scrupulous
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 197 
 
 than Wilberforce, frequently volunteered to fleece and 
 amuse their company. But scandal having made busy 
 with the names of some of them, it became usual to 
 hire a professed gamester at five or ten guineas a night 
 to set up a table for the evening, as we should hire 
 Lablache for a concert, or Weippert for a ball. Faro 
 gradually dropped out of fashion ; macao took its 
 place : hazard was never wanting, and whist began to 
 be played for stakes which would have satisfied Fox 
 himself; who, though it was calculated that he might 
 have netted four or five thousand a year by games of 
 skill, complained that they afforded no excitement. 
 
 Watier's club, in Piccadilly, was the resort of the 
 macao-players. It was kept by an old maltre cVhutel 
 of George the Fourth, a character in his way, who 
 took a just pride in the cookery and wines of his 
 establishment. All the brilliant stars of fashion, (and 
 fashion was power then,) frequented it, with Brummell 
 for their sun. " Poor Brummell dead, in misery and 
 idiotcy, at Caen ! and I remember him in all his glory, 
 cutting his jokes after the opera at White's, in a black 
 velvet great-coat, and a cocked hat on his well-pow- 
 dered head."* Nearly the same turn of reflection is 
 suggested as we run over the names of his associates. 
 Almost all of them were ruined ; three out of four, 
 irretrievably. Indeed, it was the forced expatriation 
 of its supporters that caused the club to be broken up. 
 During the same period (from 1810 to 1815 or there- 
 abouts) there was a great deal of high play at White's 
 and Brookes's, particularly whist. At Brookes's figured 
 some remarkable characters — as Tippoo Smith, by 
 common consent the best whist-player of his day ; and 
 an old gentleman nicknamed Neptune, from his having 
 once flung himself into the sea in a fit of despair at 
 being, as he thought, ruined, lie was fished out in 
 
 * Private MS. 
 o 3
 
 198 GEORGE SELWYN : 
 
 time, cast up his betting-book a second time, found lie 
 was not ruined, and played on during the remainder 
 of his life. 
 
 The most distinguished player at White's was the 
 nobleman who was presented at the Salon in Paris as 
 Le Wellington des Joueurs ; and he richly merited the 
 name, if skill, temper, and the most daring courage, 
 are titles to it. The greatest genius, however, is not 
 infallible. He once lost three thousand four hundred 
 pounds at whist by not remembering that the seven 
 of hearts was in. He played at hazard for the highest 
 stakes that any one could be got to play with him, 
 and at one time was supposed to have won nearly a 
 hundred thousand pounds ; but it all went, along with 
 a great deal more, at Crockford's, 
 
 There was also a great deal of play at Graham's, 
 the Union, the Cocoa-tree, and other clubs of the 
 second order in point of fashion. Here large sums 
 were hazarded with equal rashness ; and remarkable 
 characters started up. Among the most conspicuous 
 was the late Colonel Aubrey, who literally passed his 
 life at play. He did nothing else, morning, noon, 
 and night ; and it was computed that he had paid 
 more than sixty thousand pounds for card-money. 
 He was a very fine player at all games, and a shrewd, 
 clever man. He had been twice to India, and made 
 two fortunes. It was said that he lost the first on 
 his way home, transferred himself from one ship to f 
 
 another without landing, went back, and made the \ 
 
 second. His life was a continual alternation between \ 
 
 poverty and wealth ; and he used to say, the greatest 
 pleasure in life is winning at cards — the next greatest, 
 losing. 
 
 For several years deep play went on at all these 
 clubs — fluctuating both as to locality and amount — 
 till by degrees it began to flag. It had got to a low 
 ebb when Crockford came to London, and laid the
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 199 
 
 foundation of the most colossal fortune that was ever 
 made by play. He began by taking Watier's old 
 club- house, in partnership Avith a man named Taylor. 
 They set up a hazard-bank, and won a great deal of 
 money, but quarrelled and separated at the end of the 
 first year. Taylor continued where he was, had a bad 
 year, and broke. Crockford removed to St. James's 
 Street, had a good year, and instantly set about build- 
 ing the magnificent club-house which bore his name. 
 It rose like a creation of Aladdin's lamp; and the 
 genii themselves could hardly have surpassed the 
 beauty of the internal decorations, or have furnished 
 a more accomplished maitre cVhotel than Ude. To 
 make the company as select as possible, the establish- 
 ment was regularly organised as a club, and the 
 election of members vested in a committee. " Crock- 
 ford's " became the rage, and the votaries of fashion, 
 whether they liked play or not, hastened to enrol 
 themselves. The Duke of Wellino;ton was an orio-inal 
 member, although (unlike Blucher, who repeatedly 
 lost everything he had at play) the Great Captain 
 was never known to play deep at any game except 
 war or politics. Card-tables were regularly placed, 
 and whist was played occasionally ; but the aim, end, 
 and final cause of the whole was the hazard-bank, at 
 which the proprietor took his nightly stand, prepared 
 for all comers. There was a recognised limit, at 
 which (after losing a certain sum) he might declare 
 the bank broke for the night ; but he knew his busi- 
 ness too well to stop. 
 
 The speculation, it is hardly necessary to add, was 
 eminently successful. During several years, every- 
 thing tliat any body had to lose and cared to risk, 
 was swallowed up. Le Wellington des Joueurs lost 
 twenty-three thousand pounds at a sitting, beginning 
 at twelve at night, and ending at seven the following 
 evening. He and three other noblemen could not 
 
 o 4
 
 200 GEORGE SELWYN: 
 
 have lost less, sooner or later, than a hundred thou- 
 sand pounds a-piece. Others lost in proportion (or 
 out of proportion) to their means; but we leave it to 
 less occupied moralists and better calculators to say, 
 how many ruined families went to make Mr. Crockford 
 a millionaire — for a millionaire he became in the 
 English sense of the term, after making the largest 
 possible allowance for bad debts. A vast sum, per- 
 haps half a million, remained due to him ; but as he 
 won all his debtors were able to raise, and easy credit 
 was the most fatal of his lures *, we cannot make up 
 our minds to condole with him on that account. He 
 retired at length — lassatus non satiatus — much as an 
 Indian chief retires from a hunting country when 
 there is not game enough left for his tribe ; and the 
 club has been broken up. 
 
 Some good was certainly produced by it. In the 
 first place, private gambling (between gentleman and 
 gentleman) with its degrading incidents, as illustrated 
 by the foregoing letters, is no longer tolerated in 
 society. In the second place, this very circumstance 
 brings the worst part of the practice within the reach 
 of the law ; for public gambling, which only exists 
 by and through what are popularly termed " hells," 
 may be easily suppressed. There are, or recently 
 were, more than twenty of these establishments in 
 Pall-Mall, Piccadilly, and St. James's, called into ex- 
 istence by Crockford's success. AVhy does not the 
 police interfere ? If the police cannot, why does not 
 the legislature ? Not an hour should be lost in putting 
 
 * Brookes was equally accommodating: — 
 
 " From liberal Brookes, whose speculative skill 
 Is hasty credit and a distant bill ; 
 Who, nursed in clubs, disdains a vulgar trade, 
 Exults to trust, and blushes to be paid." 
 
 — Verses, From the Hon. Charles James Fox, partridge-shooting, to the 
 Hon, John l^ownshend, cruising ; by Tiekell. 
 
 i
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 201 
 
 down this monstrous evil. We claim to be superior 
 in morals and public order to the French ; yet all the 
 public gaming-tables of Paris were suppressed several 
 years ago, and (what is more) suppressed without 
 difficulty, the moment the police set to work in good 
 earnest.* 
 
 In conclusion, we are happy to say that the com- 
 parison, suggested by Selwyn's life and letters, be- 
 tween the manners and morals of the last century 
 and our own, is highly satisfactory. Intellectual 
 tastes have nearly superseded the necessity, formerly 
 felt by the unoccupied classes, of resorting to coarse 
 indulgences or strong excitements ; and respect for 
 public opinion induces those among them who con- 
 tinue unreclaimed, to conceal their transgressions 
 from the world. It is also worthy of note, that the 
 few persons of noble birth or high connexion who 
 have recently attracted attention by their laxity, are 
 professed votaries of (what they call) pleasure ; and 
 are no longer encouraged by the example, or elevated 
 by the companionship, of men distinguished in the 
 senate, the cabinet, or the court. No Prime Minister 
 escorts a woman of the town through the Crush-room 
 of the Opera ; no First Lord of the Admiralty per- 
 mits his mistress to do the honours of his house, or 
 weeps over her in the columns of the " Morning 
 Post ;" no Lord of the Bedchamber starts for New- 
 market with a danseuse in his carriage, and her whole 
 family in his train ; our parliamentary leaders do not 
 dissipate their best energies at the gaming-table ; our 
 privy councillors do not attend cock-fights ; and, 
 among the many calumnies levelled at our public 
 men, they have not been accused (as General Bur- 
 
 * since this was written, the most uotorious London establishments 
 have been suppressed.
 
 202 GEORGE SELWYN : 
 
 gojne was by Junius) of lying in wait for inex- 
 perienced lads to plunder at play. 
 
 Though the signs are less marked, the improve- 
 ment in the female aristocracy is not less certain ; for 
 it may safely be taken for granted that the practice 
 of gambling was fraught with the worst consequences 
 to the finest feelings and best qualities of the sex. 
 The chief danger is hinted at in " The Provoked 
 Husband." 
 
 ^^ Lord Townley. — 'Tis not your ill hours that al- 
 ways disturb me, but as often the ill company that 
 occasion those hours. 
 
 '"'' Lady Townley. — Sure I don't understand you 
 now, my Lord. What ill company do I keep V 
 
 ''''Lord Toionley. — Why, at best, women that lose 
 their money, and men that win it ; or perhaps men 
 that are voluntary bubbles at 07ie game, in hopes a 
 lady will give them fair play at another." 
 
 The facts confirm the theory. AValpole's Letters, 
 and the volumes before us, teem with allusions to 
 proved or understood cases of matrimonial infidelity ; 
 and the manner in which notorious irregularities 
 were brazened out, shows that the oflfenders did not 
 always encounter the universal reprobation of society. 
 ]\Iiss Berry, speaking of the Duchess of Norfolk's 
 divorce in 1697, observes: — 
 
 " Many circumstances of this lady's case show how 
 much the ordinary habits of life were overstepped, 
 and what precautions were thought necessary pre- 
 vious to such misconduct. A house taken at Lam- 
 beth, then a small and little frequented village, whose 
 nearest communication with W^estminster was by a 
 horse-ferr}^ — this house, hired and resorted to under 
 feigned names, and occupied by foreign servants, who 
 it was supposed could not identify the lady, are not 
 measures taken in a covmtry where the crime they 
 
 I
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 203 
 
 were meant to conceal was frequent." {England 
 and France^ vol. i. p. 297.) 
 
 This test would be fatal to the female nobility of 
 England half a century later ; for many of them 
 took no pains whatever to conceal their immoralities. 
 We are obliged, from obvious motives, to refrain 
 from mentioning some conclusive instances ; but it 
 is notorious that Lady Vane gave Smollett the mate- 
 rials for the Memoirs of a Lady of Quality (herself) 
 published in " Peregrine Pickle ;" that Lady Towns- 
 bend sat (perhaps not so willingly) for the portrait 
 of Lady Bellaston in " Tom Jones ;" and we can 
 hardly do wrong in copying a note which Lord 
 Dover has annexed to the name of a Miss Edwards 
 in his edition of Walpole's Letters : — " Miss Edwards, 
 an unmarried lady of great fortune, who (1742) 
 openly kept Lord A. Hamilton." 
 
 Gilly Williams mentions a caprice of a more re- 
 spectable kind, which was far from uncommon at the 
 period : — 
 
 " Lord Rockingham's youngest sister has just married her 
 footman, John Sturgeon. Surely he is the very first of that 
 name that ever had a lliglit Honourable attached to it. I 
 made the Duchess of Bedford laugh yesterday with the story 
 of Lord March's handsome Jack wanting to go to live Avith 
 Lady Harrington." 
 
 " The girls talk of nothing but the match between Lord 
 
 Rockingham's sister and her footman. Never so much 
 
 and discretion met together; for she has entailed her fortune 
 with as much circumspection as Lord Mansfield could have 
 done, and has not left one cranny of the law unstopi)ed. 
 They used to pass many hours together, which she called 
 teaching John the mathematics." 
 
 o 
 
 Another unmarried woman of quality, the daughter 
 of an earl, had ruined herself at play, and was on her 
 road to the Continent, to avoid being arrested by her
 
 I 
 
 204 GEORGE SELWYN : 
 
 creditors. At Sittingbouriio, where slie stopped to 
 change horses, a bright idea struck her. She called 
 in the postilion, and asked him if he had any objection 
 to a wife who would allow him fifty pounds a year, pro- 
 vided he would never claim the privilege of a hus- 
 band. The bargain was speedily struck. They were 
 legally married witli all practicable despatch ; and 
 when legal proceedings were taken against her, she 
 pleaded coverture. 
 
 Unless John was a very unapt scholar, he must 
 soon have become as worthy an object of a lady's 
 favour, so far as mental culture was concerned, as Sir 
 John Germaine, who, after occasioning the Duchess 
 of Norfolk's divorce, married a noble heiress, Lady 
 Betty Berkeley, and lived till the middle of the last 
 century. Miss Berry tells us that he actually left a 
 legacy to Sir Matthew Decker, under a belief that he 
 was the author of the Gospel of St. Matthew ! 
 
 It has been thought by some that we have lost in I 
 
 spirit and grace what we have gained in decency, and 
 that society is no longer so gay, easy, accomplished, 
 or even literary, as it used to be. Miss Berry, though 
 she commends the fashion which encouraged occupa- 
 tion and mental acquirements, cannot refrain from a 
 sly sarcasm at the " new prodigies who were already 
 great orators at Eton, and profound politicians before 
 they left Christchurch or Trinity," — the gentlemen to 
 whom " it was easier to be foolishly bustling than 
 seriously employed ; " and IMr. Moore maintains a yet 
 more startling doctrine. 
 
 *' AYithout any disparagement of the many and useful 
 talents which are at present nowhere more conspicuous than 
 in the upper ranks of society, it may be owned that for wit, 
 social powers, and literary accomplishments, the political men 
 of the period under consideration (1780) formed such an 
 assemblage as it would be flattery to say that our own times 
 can parallel. The natural tendency of the French Revolu-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 205 
 
 tion was to produce in the higher classes of England an in- 
 creased reserve of manner, and of course a proportionate 
 restraint on all within their circle, which have been fatal to 
 conviviality and humour, and not very propitious to wit — 
 subduing both manners and conversation to a sort of polished 
 level, to rise above which is often thought almost as vulgar 
 as to sink below it. Of the greater ease of manners that 
 existed some forty or fifty years ago, one trifling but not the 
 less significant indication was the habit then prevalent among 
 men of high station, of calling each other by such familiar 
 names as Dick, Jack, Tom, &c. &c. — a mode of address that 
 brings with it in its very sound the notion of conviviality and 
 playfulness, and, however unrefined, implies at least that 
 ease and sea-room in which wit spreads its canvas most fear- 
 lessly." (^Life of Sheridan.^ 
 
 We differ with unfeigned reluctance from Mr. 
 Moore ; but he is surely mistaken in supposing that 
 the higher classes in England have contracted an 
 increased reserve of manner in consequence of the 
 French Revolution ; or shown more anxiety on that 
 account to intrench themselves within the privileges 
 of their rank. On the contrary, the tendency of 
 that event, and of our own Reform Bill, was and is 
 to make them more anxious to identify themselves in 
 feeling and interest Avith the people. If they have 
 ceased to be familiar, it is because they have ceased 
 to be exclusive ; restraint is necessary, because 
 society is mixed ; and there is no reason why men of 
 rank should change their mode of address to men of 
 rank, except that they live less with one another and 
 more with the world at large. The very peculiarity 
 in question was observed by Mrs. TroUope in the 
 most exclusive coterie in Europe, the crcme de la 
 crenie of Vienna. "All the ladies address each other 
 by their Christian names, and you may pass even- 
 ing after evening surrounded by Princesses and 
 Countesses, without ever hearing any other appella- 
 tions than Therese, Flora, Laura, or Pepe."
 
 20G GEORGE selwyn: 
 
 This may be very agreeable for the privileged few, 
 and we readily admit that intimacy is a great pro- 
 moter of humour. Few of Selwyn's hon-mots could 
 have been hazarded at a mixed party. But we are 
 as far as ever from admitting Mr. Moore's proposition 
 in the main. It is not flattery but sober truth to 
 say, that our public men have contracted no reserve 
 beyond that which the voluntary enlargement of their 
 circle has entailed upon them. It would be difficult 
 to contend that they have impaired their social 
 powers by mixing with eminent authors, men of 
 science, and artists, whatever influence these may 
 have exercised upon their wit or humour ; and, even 
 .as regards wit or humour, it would simply be neces- 
 sary to run over a few known names to vindicate our 
 equality in both. Modern conversation is rich with 
 the product of every soil, the spoils of every clime ; 
 and it would be a grave error to suppose that those 
 who contribute most to it seldom meet in intimacy. 
 They meet very often, but they belong to several 
 co-equal and intersecting circles, instead of keeping 
 to one, and making that the sole object of interest. 
 
 There are signs, moreover, that he who runs may 
 read. It is clear that they talked politics as much as 
 we do ; perhaps more, since their eagerness was so 
 manifest to a Frenchwoman. " Madame de Boufflers 
 (writes Williams in 1763) is out of patience with 
 our politics, and our ridiculous abuse of every person 
 who either governs or is likely to govern us." This 
 was a serious drawback, but not the most serious. 
 Selwyn's principal correspondents were not dandies 
 and fine ladies, but the most cultivated men and 
 women of the highest class ; including several on 
 whom Mr. Moore would rely, if we came to a division 
 on the question. The masterpieces of English light 
 literature, and several other standard works, appeared 
 during their correspondence. Yet neither Field-
 
 HIS LIFE AND TBIES. 207 
 
 ing, Richardson, Smollett, Gray, Goldsmith, Flume, 
 Robertson, Johnson, Gibbon, nor even Burke, elicits 
 a remark. There is one allusion to Garrick (by 
 Rigby) ; one to Reynolds (by Lord Carlisle) ; and 
 one to Gainsborough (by Gilly Williams), as " the 
 painter by whom, if you remember, we once saw the 
 caricature of old Winchilsea." 
 
 There was no want of classical acquirement, it is 
 true. Many wrote graceful verses ; and Fox and 
 Walpole had a taste for contemporary literature 
 but Fox kept it to himself for lack of sympathy, and 
 Walpole was ashamed of it. By literature, how= 
 ever, must be understood merely the Belles Lettres ; 
 for Fox confessed late in life that he had never been 
 able to get throus^h " The Wealth of Nations." 
 
 Familiarity, again, is a great charm, but the habits 
 which are the conditions of its existence beget mono- 
 tony. In Charles the Second's reign, when it was 
 the fashion to go to sea and fight the Dutch, instead 
 of taking lodgings at Melton, or attending battues, 
 Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham, tells us in his 
 " Memoirs," that a party of gay, witty, lettered pro- 
 fligates were becalmed on board the Duke of York's 
 ship, and got so tired of one another, that the first 
 care each took on landing was to ascertain where the 
 rest were going, in order to get away from them. 
 We are not aware whether the habitues of White's or 
 Brookes's, seventy or eighty years ago, were ever 
 brought to such a pass ; but we know (and there is 
 no getting over this) that they habitually resorted to 
 the gaming-table — 
 
 " Unknown to sucli, when sensual pleasures cloy, 
 To fill the languid pause with finer joy." 
 
 With rare exceptions, the most accomplished per- 
 sons, about to risk more than they can afford to lose, 
 will be found both ill-disposed, and ill-qualified, for
 
 208 GEORGE SELWYN : HIS LIFE AND TIMES. 
 
 the easy equable enjoyment of conversation ; althongh 
 (with the aid of wine) they may have their occa- 
 sional bursts of sparkling pleasantry. 
 
 To sum up all — there is a halo floating over cer- 
 tain periods ; dazzling associations may cluster round 
 a name : " 'tis distance lends enchantment to the 
 view;" and living witnesses who have known both 
 generations, will always, by a law of our nature, 
 award the palm to the companions of their youth. 
 But it will require stronger arguments than have 
 been adduced yet, to convince us that the social 
 powers of any class have fallen off, whilst morality, 
 taste, knowledge, general freedom of intercourse and 
 liberality of opinion, have been advancing ; or that 
 the mind necessarily loses any portion of its play- 
 fulness, when it quits the enervating atmosphere of 
 idleness and dissipation for the purer air and brighter 
 skies of Art, Literature and Philosophy.
 
 209 
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 (From the Edinburgh Review, Oct. 1845.) 
 
 The Letters of Philip Dormer , Earl of Chesterfield : includ- 
 ing numerous Letters now first published from the 
 original Manuscripts. Edited, with Notes, by Lord 
 Mahon. 4 vols. 8 vo. London: 1845. 
 
 The name of Chesterfield has become a synonyme for 
 good breeding and politeness. It is associated in our 
 minds with all that is graceful in manner and cold in 
 heart, attractive in appearance and unamiable in reality. 
 The image it calls up is that of a man rather below 
 the middle height, in a court suit and blue riband, with 
 regular features, wearing an habitual expression of 
 gentlemanlike ease. His address is insinuating, his 
 bow perfect, his compliments rival those of Le Grand 
 Monarque in delicacy : laughter is too demonstrative 
 for him, but the smile of courtesy is ever on his lip ; 
 and by the time he has gone through the circle, the 
 avowed object of his daily ambition is accomplished — 
 all the women are already half in love with him, and 
 every man is desirous to be his friend. But the name 
 recalls little or nothing of the statesman, the orator, 
 the wit. We forget that this same little man was 
 one of the best Lords-Lieutenant Ireland ever knew, 
 the best speaker in the House of Lords till Pitt and 
 Murray entered it, one of our most graceful essayists, 
 and the wittiest man of quality of his time — a time 
 when wit meant something more than pleasantry or 
 sparkle, and men of quality prided themselves on 
 VOL. I. r
 
 210 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 having dined in company with Swift, supped at 
 Button's with " the great Mr. Addison," or passed an 
 evening at Pope's villa at Twickenham. Nescia mens 
 hominum fati sortisque futurce: what would be the 
 feelings of the all-accomplished and eloquent earl 
 himself, were he to wake from the dead and find his 
 reputation resting on his confidential " Letters to his 
 Son ! " He would be little less astonished than Pe- 
 trarch, were he to wake up and find his " Africa " for- 
 gotten, and his " Sonnets " the keystone of his fame. 
 
 Dr. Johnson has said, that whenever the public 
 think long about a matter, tliey generally think right. 
 Perhaps they do when they are familiar with the 
 facts, and when no twist or warp has baen given to 
 the judgment they found upon them. But the best 
 of Lord Chesterfield was that of Avhich he left no 
 lasting or no easily accessible memorials ; and Dr. 
 Johnson himself gave a warp to the judgment of the 
 public when he said of his lordship, that he was " a 
 lord among wits, and a wit among lords ; " and pro- 
 nounced his famous diatribe against the " Letters " 
 (that they taught the morals of a and the man- 
 ners of a dancing-master) ; although we find him 
 afterw^ards telling Bos well — "1 think it might be 
 made a very pretty book. Take out the immorality, 
 and it should be put into the hands of every young 
 gentleman." 
 
 The authority of the " Letters " is certainly im- 
 paired by the popular notion entertained of his lord- 
 ship as a mere courtier ; and for this reason a 
 short review of his life will form the best introduc- 
 tion to his writings, which are peculiarly of a class 
 requiring to be read by the light that personal history 
 throws upon them ; — like Rochfoucauld's " Maxims," 
 which it is impossible to appreciate or apply without 
 an intimate knowledge of the men and women of the 
 Fronde. It is, moreover, good for literature to take
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 211 
 
 retrospective views occasionally of books and cha- 
 racters that have obtained a prescriptive reputation ; 
 and there are passages in Lord Chesterfield's career 
 which deserve to be dwelt upon, independently of 
 their use in illustrating his rules of conduct and 
 speculations on society. We propose, then, with the 
 aid of Dr. Maty and Lord Mahon, to bring this 
 ornament of his order once more before that public 
 for which he loved to drape himself — to sift his 
 claims, and settle definitively his place and precedence 
 as a writer, a moralist, and a man. 
 
 The " Memoir of the Life of the Earl of Chester- 
 field," which occupies the whole of the first volume 
 of the edition of his miscellaneous works published 
 in 1777, consists of six sections. The first five were 
 written by Dr. Maty ; the sixth by Mr. Justamond, 
 who, on Dr. Maty's death, took charge of the pub- 
 lication. This Memoir is a tolerably fair specimen of 
 second-rate biography. 
 
 Lord Mahon has contented himself with prefixing 
 to his edition of the " Letters " the sketch of Lord 
 Chesterfield's life and character published in his 
 (Lord Mahon's) "History of England." * It is so well 
 written that we could wish it had been longer. Lord 
 Mahon, himself a Stanhope, has of course enjoyed 
 ample opportunities of making his edition complete. 
 He says he had two objects in view — to combine the 
 scattered correspondence in one uniform arrangement, 
 with explanatory notes ; and to publish many cha- 
 racteristic letters which liad been kept back. He has 
 succeeded in both objects; the new matter is valuable, 
 the arrangement is judicious, and the only fault that 
 can reasonably be found with the notes is, that they 
 are short and far between. Wa will now proceed to 
 the immediate purpose of this essay. 
 
 * Sec vol. iii. 
 r 2
 
 212 LORD CHESTEUFIELD. 
 
 The family of Stanhope is one of the best in Eng- 
 land, and boasts three peerages, Chesterfield, Stan- 
 hope, and Harrington. The date of the earldom of 
 Chesterfield is 1628. The first earl, a devoted 
 Royalist, died in 1G56, and the title descended to his 
 grandson, the " Milord Chesterfield " who plays so 
 conspicuous a part in Grammont's Memoirs. His son, 
 the father of the earl, was unknoAvn beyond the circles 
 of private life. He is described as a man " of a 
 morose disposition and violent passions, who often 
 thought that people behaved ill to him, when they 
 did not in the least intend it." He married one of the 
 daughters of George Savile, Marquis of Halifax, by 
 Avhom he had four sons and two daughter^. She did 
 not live long enough to take charge of their educa- 
 tion, and, in consequence of the unaccountable dis- 
 like or indifference of the father, the care of the 
 eldest devolved on his grandmother, Lady Halifax, a 
 woman of understanding, conduct, and sensibility. 
 Dr. Maty somewhat magniloquently compares her 
 house to that of the mother of the Gracchi; and it was, 
 undoubtedly, the resort of the leading politicians and 
 the best company, from whom much might be learnt 
 by so apt a scholar and nice observer as Lord Chester- 
 field. 
 
 "Pie was very young" (says Dr. Maty) "when 
 Lord Gal way — who, though not a very fortunate 
 general, was a man of uncommon penetration and 
 merit, and who often visited the Marchioness of Hali- 
 fax — observing in him a strong inclination for a 
 political life, but at the same time an unconquerable 
 taste for pleasure, with some tincture of laziness, 
 gave him the following advice — ' If you intend to be a 
 man of business, you must be an early riser. In the 
 distinguished posts your parts, rank, and fortune, 
 will entitle you to fill, you will be liable to have 
 visitors at every hour of the day, and unless you will
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 218 
 
 rise constantly at an early hour, you will never have 
 any leisure to yourself.' " He took the hint, and 
 acted upon it through life ; nor, although liis edu- 
 cation till his eighteenth year was strictly private, 
 does he appear to have ever wanted the spur of 
 emulation, which it is thought the peculiar privilege 
 of a public school to apply. " When I was at your 
 age (eleven) " lie tells his son, " I should have been 
 ashamed if any boy of that age had learned his book 
 better, or played at any play better than I did ; and 
 I should not have rested a moment till I had got before 
 him." 
 
 In 1712, being then in his eighteenth year, he was 
 entered at Trinity Hall, Cambridge, and became a 
 resident member of that university. We are tempted 
 to translate a letter which he wrote in French to 
 his language-master, M. Joumeau, soon after his 
 
 arrival : — 
 
 • 
 
 '' I had a lively pleasure in reading the letter which you 
 were so kind as to write to me It seemed as if you were 
 speaking to me, and that I was in the company of the man in 
 the world I esteem the most, and whom I wish most ardently 
 to please. I should have answered it sooner, had I not been 
 passing this week at the Bishop of Ely's, who lives fifteen 
 miles off. In this short time I have seen more of the country 
 than I had seen before in all my life, and which is very 
 asreeable in this neio;hbourhood. 
 
 " I continue constant to my studies, which as yet are but 
 Latin and Greek, because the fair, which is to take place in 
 ten days, would have interrupted them ; but as soon as this 
 diversion is over, I am to commence civil law, philosophy, 
 and a little mathematics ; but as for anatomy, it will not be 
 in my power to learn it, for, although there is a poor devil 
 tliat was hanged ready, the surgeon who was wont to perform 
 these operations has ol)jccted this time because the subject is 
 a man, and then he says the students are not desirous to attend. 
 I find this college infinitely the best in the whole university, 
 for it is the smallest, and it is filled with lawyers, who have 
 
 p 3
 
 I 
 
 214 
 
 LOUD CIIESTEUFIELD. 
 
 been in the world, and understand life. fFe have but one 
 clergijman, who is also the only man in the college who gets drunk. 
 Let them say what they will, there is very little debauchery 
 in this university, and particularly among the people of con- 
 dition ; for it would require the taste of a porter to put up 
 with it here." 
 
 This letter is curious, not merely as giving an 
 insight into the writer's habits, but as showing that, 
 even at this early period, he possessed the same live- 
 liness of remark, light humour, and careless ease of ex- 
 pression, Avhich form the great charm of his "Letters" 
 in more advanced age, and which he himself would 
 probably have attributed to persevering care in the 
 formation of a style. For this reason it is difficult 
 to believe the account he gives of his own tone and 
 manner on leaving the university. " When I first 
 came into the world at nineteen, I left the University 
 of Cambridge, where I was an absolute pedant. When 
 I talked my best I talked Horace ; when I aimed at 
 being facetious I quoted Martial ; and when I had a 
 mind to be a fine gentleman I talked Ovid." 
 
 Plis object in thus exaggerating his own defects 
 probably was, to show his son what pains could do in 
 overcoming deficiencies. But there is no doubt he 
 studied hard enough to justify afiiir share of pedantry, 
 so far as learning can justify it ; and it seems that he 
 paid particular attention to the great masters of 
 oratory. " So long ago as when I was at Cambridge, 
 whenever I read pieces of eloquence, (and indeed 
 they were my principal study,) whether ancient or 
 modern, I used to write down the shining passages, 
 and then translate them as well and elegantly as ever 
 I could ; if Latin or French, into English ; if English, 
 into French. This, which I practised for some years, 
 not only improved and formed my style, but im- 
 printed in my mind and memory the best thoughts
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 215 
 
 of the best authors." He remained about two years 
 at Cambridge, and then started on the grand tour, 
 unattended by a Governor. Nothing worth mention- 
 ing is recorded of him by others or himself, till his 
 travels brought him, in the summer of 1714, to the 
 Hague, where, for the first time, he began to play an 
 independent part in society. The love of shining, 
 which he so strongly inculcates, here broke out in a 
 manner which shows it to be not unaccompanied by 
 risk. " When I went abroad, I first went to the 
 Hague, where gaming was much in fashion, and 
 where I observed that many people of shining rank 
 and character gained too. I was then young, and 
 silly enough to believe that gaming was one of their 
 accomplishments; and, as I aimed at perfection, I 
 adopted gaming as a necessary step to it. Thus I 
 acquired by error the habit of a vice, which, far from 
 adorning my character, has, I am conscious, been a 
 great blemish to it." 
 
 From the Hague he repaired to Paris, where so 
 much of the coUes-e rust as still stuck to him was 
 rapidly rubbed off. In December, 1714, he writes 
 to M. Joumeau : — "I shall not give you my opi- 
 nion of the French, because I am very often taken 
 for one, and many a Frenchman has paid me the 
 highest compliment they think they can pay to any 
 one, which is — Sir, you are just like one of us. I 
 will merely tell you that I am insolent ; that I talk 
 much, very loud, and in a dogmatical tone. I sing 
 and dance as I walk ; and lastly, that I spend a mon- 
 strous deal of money in powder, feathers, and white 
 gloves." — He afterwards thought better of the 
 French ; and, like Marlow in "She Stoops to Conquer," 
 he must have kept his loud talking and gay rattle for 
 the coifee-house and the barmaid ; for on his first 
 arrival at Paris he sufiered under a most pitiable de- 
 gree of mauvaise honte in the drawing-room. 
 
 r 4
 
 216 
 
 LOKD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 — " I got more courage soon afterwards, and was intrepid 
 enough to go up to a fine woman, and tell her that I thought 
 it a warm day; she answered me very civilly, that she thought 
 so too ; upon which the conversation ceased on my part for 
 some time, till she, good-naturedly resuming, spoke to me 
 thus : ' I see your embarrassment, and I am sure the few 
 words you said to me cost you a great deal ; but do not be 
 discouraged for that reason, and avoid good company. We 
 see that you desire to please, and that is the main point ; you 
 want only the manner, and you think that you want it still 
 more than you do. You must go through your novitiate 
 before you can profess good breeding ; and, if you will be my 
 novice, I will present you to my acquaintance as such.' 
 You will easily imagine how much this speech pleased me, 
 and how awkwardly I answered it; I hemmed once or twice 
 (for it gave me a burr in my throat) before I could tell her 
 that I was vei'y much obliged to her ; that it was true I had 
 a great deal of reason to distrust my own behaviour, not 
 being used to fine company ; and that I should be proud of 
 being her novice and receiving her instructions. As soon as 
 I had fumbled out this answer, she called up three or four 
 people to her, and said Sgavez-vous (for she was a foreigner, 
 and I was abroad), guefai entrepris cejeune homme et quHl le 
 faut r assurer ? Pour moi, je crois en avoir fait la conquete^ 
 car il s^est emancipe dans le moment au point de me dire en 
 tremblant quHl faisoit chaud. H faut que vous m^aidiez a le 
 derouiller. II lui faut necessairement une passion, et s'il ne 
 m^en juge pas digne, nous lui en cherchercns quelque autre. 
 Au Teste, mon novice, n''allez pas vous encanailler avec des 
 Jilles d'' opera et des comediennes, qui vous dpargneront lesfrais 
 et du sentiment et de la jjolitessc, mais qui vous en couteront 
 Lien plus a tout autre egard^^ 
 
 The death of Queen Anne opened a new career for 
 every young man of an ambitious turn of mind, and 
 Lord Stanhope (for this was his title till the death 
 of his father in 1720) hurried home to assist in 
 strengthening the new dynasty. He entered public 
 life under the auspices of his relative, the first Earl 
 Stanhope, the fjivourite minister of George I., who 
 immediately appointed him one of the gentlemen of
 
 LORD CHESTEKFIELD. 217 
 
 the bed-chamber to the Prince of Wales — a post well 
 suited to his apje and habits. It gave him an oppor- 
 tunity of observing the manners of a court ; and his 
 " Characters," as well as numerous remarks scattered 
 through his " Letters," show that he made an excellent 
 use of it. 
 
 He entered the House of Commons as member for 
 St. Germains in the first parliament of George I., and 
 lost no time in trying the efficacy of the system of 
 training to which he had for years subjected himself 
 with the view of becoming an orator. He spoke for 
 the first time in support of the proposed impeachment 
 of the Duke of Ormond, and attracted some attention 
 by the decided tone of his opinions, as well as by the 
 fluency of his declamation. But he had hardly done 
 speaking when one of the opposite party took him 
 on one side, paid him a high compliment on his debut, 
 and reminded him that, as he still wanted six weeks 
 of being of age, he was liable to a heavy penalty for 
 sitting or voting in the House, and must immediately 
 absent himself for a brief interval, unless he wished 
 his minority to be made known. Lord Stanhope 
 made the gentleman a low bow, quitted the House 
 directly without voting, and went to Paris, where he 
 rendered himself extremely useful in procuring in- 
 formation regarding the Jacobite rising in 1715. On 
 his return the year following, he took frequent part 
 in the debates and proceedings of the House, and had 
 gained sufficient distinction to justify the advance- 
 ment which his friend and rehition the Minister was 
 anxious to confer upon him ; when, unluckily, the 
 Prince's quarrel with the King broke out, and Lord 
 Stanhope remained faithful to the Prince, although 
 some tempting offers were made to him. Among 
 others, it was proposed to make his father a Duke, 
 and the old Earl was extremely angry with him for 
 not closing with the proposal. Lord Stanhope, how- 
 
 /
 
 218 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 ever, does not appear to have gone into systematic 
 opposition ; he occasionally lent his vote to the 
 Government, and in 1723 he was rewarded for 
 coming to their aid on a critical occasion, by being 
 appointed Captain of the Yeomen of the Guard. 
 Lord Townshend, his predecessor in the post, advised 
 him to make it more profitable than he himself had 
 done, by disposing of the [)laces. "For once," (was 
 the answer,) "I would rather follow your lordship's 
 example than your advice." He was also offered the 
 red riband on the revival of the Bath in 1725 ; but 
 he thought the order beneath his rank, and was even 
 angry with his younger brother for accepting it. 
 We need hardly say that he was too sensible a man 
 to be indifferent to marks of honour, provided they 
 really carried consideration along with them ; and 
 six years later we find him claiming the Garter from 
 Sir Robert Walpole, with the remark, " I am a man 
 of j^leasure, and the blue riband would add two inches 
 to my height." 
 
 He probably owed his importance at this time to 
 his rank and connexions, rather than to his powers 
 as a speaker ; for the House of Commons was cer- 
 tainly an uncongenial field for them. He was not 
 fitted either by nature or study for a popular as- 
 sembly. His style Avanted the requisite degree of 
 nerve and muscle, as much as his physical frame. 
 His very taste and refinement were against him ; and 
 it is impossible to conceive a man succeeding in that 
 House, who made it his chief study to avoid giving 
 way to strong excitement or engaging in rough com- 
 petition of any kind. It is also stated by Dr. Maty 
 that there was another cause for his not appearing 
 to advantage there. He is said to have stood in awe 
 of a member who was in the habit of mimicking the 
 tone and action of the more remarkable speakers ; 
 and this is not unlikely, for in his Letter to his God- 
 
 I
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 219 
 
 son he remarks, that " ridicule, thongli not founded 
 upon truth, will stick for some time, and if thrown 
 by a skilful hand, perhaps for ever." // 7i'y a rien qui 
 tue comme un ridicule. 
 
 I... The death of his father, in 1728, at length placed 
 him in a more appropriate sphere of action. The 
 House of Lords at that period filled a very different 
 position from what it does at present ; and the fate of 
 governments hung upon its debates and divisions 
 nearly as often as on those of the House of Commons. 
 Eighty or a hundred peers were not an unusual 
 attendance, when the peerage was not much more 
 than half as numerous as at present ; but the cha- 
 racter of the audience differed essentially from that 
 of the representative body. Here Lord Chesterfield's 
 high-bred ease, delicate irony, fine humour, persuasive 
 tones, and gracefully flowing periods, were appre- 
 ciated ; no unmannerly interruption or coarse freedom 
 would liave been endured ; and his total want of those 
 energetic bursts and impulsive movements, which are 
 inseparable from the highest efforts of eloquence, 
 was deemed rather a merit than a defect ; for even 
 Chatham, when he put forth his strength, has been 
 known to ruflfle their lordships' complacency, and was 
 sometimes accused of compromising the dignity of 
 their House. Lord Chesterfield particularly excelled 
 in that graceful and urbane pleasantry which lightens 
 up and relieves an argument, without appearing to 
 trifle with the subject or ever degenerating into what 
 he would term the vulgarity of a joke ; and many of 
 the best political as well as social repartees of his 
 times are attributed to him. 
 
 It was nearly five years, however, after his acces- 
 sion to the peernge when he became one of the ac- 
 knowledged leaders of the Upper House. George the 
 First died in 1727, and it was then expected tliat 
 Lord Chesterfield would reap the reward of his
 
 220 
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 constancy to the new king whilst heir-apparent. But, 
 instead of being placed in high office at home, he was 
 despatched on an embassy to the Hague. This post, 
 whatever the intention of the Ministry in sending 
 him there, was well fitted to his abilities, and he con- 
 trived to add considerably to his reputation by means 
 of it. In 1729, Lord Townshend, having formed a 
 plan for removing the Duke of Newcastle, advised 
 Lord Chesterfield to wait on the King at Helvoet- 
 Sluys on his return from Hanover, and desire per- 
 mission to attend his ]\Iajesty to London on account 
 of private business. This was done in the hope that 
 the King might be won over by the charm of the 
 Earl's conversation, and be prepared to appoint him 
 in the Duke's place. The stratagem failed : Lord 
 Townshend was forced to resign ; and Lord Chester- 
 field went back to his embassy, after impressing Sir 
 Robert Walpole so effectually with his entire inno- 
 cence of the plot, and with the prudence of keeping 
 well with him, as to obtain the place of High Steward 
 and the Garter. His predecessor in the place, who 
 was suspected of having made money by the patronage 
 attached to it, gave him a list of the persons he had 
 appointed, and desired they might be continued. "I 
 have at present no thoughts of turning any one out," 
 was the answer ; " but if I alter my mind, it will only 
 be in relation to those who have bought in." 
 
 Lord Chesterfield remained abroad till 1732, when 
 he gave up his embassy. He had suffered both in 
 health and fortune during his residence at the Hague, 
 and it took him some months to o-ain streno^th enouo:h 
 to resume his parliamentary attendance, which now 
 became unremitting. He at first supported the minis- 
 ters, but was too fond of his own independence to 
 fulfil the conditions which Sir Robert Walpole ex- 
 acted from his adherents ; and their friendship was 
 consequently short-lived. On the introduction of the 
 
 II
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 221 
 
 famous Excise Bill, Lord Chesterfield denounced the 
 scheme in the strongest terms, and his three brothers 
 voted against it in the House of Commons. So high 
 was the popular excitement, that when Queen Caro- 
 line consulted Lord Scarborough as to the possibility 
 of carrying the bill, he is reported to have told her 
 that he could answer for his regiment against the 
 Pretender, but not against the opposers of the excise ; 
 upon which the Queen, with tears in her eyes, said, 
 " Then we must drop it." The Ministry was in im- 
 minent danger, and was only saved by the tact of the 
 Premier in yielding willow-like to the storm. It was 
 not at such a season that he could afford to make a 
 show of magnanimity. Lord Chesterfield was sum- 
 marily dismissed from his office of Lord Steward, 
 and the ministerial papers fell upon him wuth more 
 than usual asperity. One writer in a leading govern- 
 ment print went the length of insinuating, that reasons 
 for the removal unconnected with politics might be 
 disclosed, if it were not dangerous to speak such 
 truths of a peer as might be deemed scandalum niag- 
 natum. Lord Chesterfield met and silenced this at- 
 tack by a message to the anonymous writer, formally 
 authorising him to say all he knew or what he pleased 
 of him. 
 
 During the next two years Lord Chesterfield was 
 one of the leaders of the opposition in the House of 
 Lords, and left no means untried to effect the down- 
 fall of the minister who had insulted him. Dr. 
 Maty tells a curious story in illustration of his 
 zeal : — 
 
 " The late Lord R , with many good qualities, 
 
 and even learning and parts, had a strong desire of 
 being thought skilful in physic, and was very expert 
 in bleeding. Lord Chesterfield, who knew his foible, 
 and on a particular occasion wished to have his vote, 
 came to him one morning, and, after having con-
 
 222 
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 versed upon indifferent matters, complained of the 
 headache, and desired his lordship to feel his pulse. 
 It was found to beat high, and a hint of losing blood 
 given. ' I have no objection ; and, as I hear your 
 lordship has a masterly hand, will you favour me 
 with trying your lancet upon me ? Apropos^^ said 
 Lord Chesterfield after the operation, ' do you go to 
 
 the House to-day ? ' Lord R answered, ' I did 
 
 not intend to go, not being sufficiently informed of 
 the question which is to be debated ; but you who 
 have considered it, which side will you be of ? ' The 
 Earl having gained his confidence, easily directed his 
 judgment; he carried him to the House, and got him 
 to vote as he pleased. He used afterwards to say, 
 that none of his friends had done so much as he, 
 having literally bled for the good of his country." 
 
 Though Lord Chesterfield contributed largely to 
 the downfall of the Minister, he was left out of the 
 new government, which lost considerabl}' in public 
 confidence for want of him. Li " An Ode to a 
 Great Number of Great Men, lately made," he is 
 thus apostrophised in company with his friend, John 
 Duke of Argyll : — 
 
 " More changes, better times, this isle 
 Demands. Oh, Chesterfield, Argyll ! 
 
 To bleeding Britain bring 'em : 
 Unite all hearts, appease each storm ; 
 'Tis yours such actions to perform, 
 
 My pride shall be to sing 'em." 
 
 He continued in opposition, and on more than one 
 occasion (as on commenting on the want of conduct^ 
 as contradistinguished from behaviour^ at Dettingen) 
 ga\i8 such strong personal offence to George IL, that 
 his exclusion from public employment might have 
 proved permanent, could his services have been dis- 
 pensed with. Li 1744, however, the King was obliged 
 to give up his favourite minister, Lord Carteret, and
 
 LOUD CHESTERFIELD. 223 
 
 to accept the coalition or " broad-bottom " party, at 
 tlie head of which was Lord Chesterfield. The state 
 of affairs abroad being just then the main difficulty, 
 and the co-operation of the Dutch of vital importance, 
 it was arranged that he should go first to Holland as 
 Ambassador, and then to Ireland as Lord-Lieutenant ; 
 a plan in which the King acquiesced the more readily 
 on account of its removing his supposed enemy from 
 court. His Majesty stood out for some time against 
 admitting the Earl into the cabinet, or granting him 
 a personal interview, but was compelled to concede 
 both points, and could only show his resentment by 
 his manner, which he took care to make as ungracious 
 as possible. The only words he uttered at the leave- 
 taking audience, when the Earl requested to be 
 honoured with his commands, were, " You have 
 received your instructions^ my Lord^ 
 
 The Earl succeeded tolerably well with his old 
 friends their High Mightinesses ; but we have no 
 space to dwell upon this mission or its effects, and 
 gladly hasten with him to L'eland, where he arrived 
 towards the end of the year 1745 — a most trying 
 period for a new Lord-Lieutenant, as the Catholics 
 were hourly expected to take arms to co-operate with 
 the Pretender. It is impossible to speak too highly 
 of the wise and enlightened policy which he there 
 adopted and enforced. It was immeasurably in ad- 
 vance of his age. Indeed, we should be puzzled to 
 name any other English statesman, till we come to 
 Burke, capable of conceiving such a scheme of go- 
 vernment ; mucli less of carrying it into effect with 
 firmness, impartiality, and disinterestedness. All his 
 more innnediate predecessors had governed through 
 " managers," i. <?., the heads of certain great Pro- 
 testant families, who undertook to manage the two 
 Houses, smootli down all difficulties, and make the 
 viceregal office a pleasant sinecure ; on condition of
 
 224 
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 being permitted to domineer over the rival party, 
 divide the entire patronage, job the revenue, and 
 anticipate the resources of the country, as they 
 thought fit. So well understood and so etFectually 
 carried out was this arrangement, that we find the 
 Duke of Shrewsbury giving as a reason for accepting 
 the Lord- Lieutenancy, that it was a place where a 
 man had business enough to hinder him from falling 
 asleep, and not enough to keep him awake. It was 
 not even regarded as affording sufficient scope for an 
 independent mode of thinking or acting, to make it 
 worth the acceptance of a man of Lord Chesterfield's 
 political eminence ; and some surprise was expressed 
 at his eagerness to get appointed to it. Lord March- 
 mont records in his diary the reasons alleged in con- 
 versation by the Earl himself, which are all of a 
 personal and not very elevated kind ; but he may 
 have thought a little dissimulation justifiable, and 
 might have feared incurring ridicule or provoking 
 opposition by explaining himself more fully. He 
 certainly felt and expressed a full conviction of his 
 own peculiar fitness for the post, and had it repeatedly 
 in liis thoughts at a long antecedent period. " One 
 morning" (says Dr. Chenevix) "that I was with him, 
 his Lordship was expressing how much he was con- 
 cerned that I was so long without having better pre- 
 ferment, and told me, in his joking manner — ' Well, 
 I have just thought of a way in which I am sure 
 you'll succeed with Sir Robert. Go and tell him 
 from me, that I will accept the Lord-Lieutenancy of 
 Ireland, and I am sure he will then procure you a 
 ofood livinof from the Crown ! ' " 
 
 The first care of the new Lord-Lieutenant was to 
 obviate the possibility of being impeded in his policy. 
 He insisted on carte blanche in respect of every sort 
 of patronage ; and when, on his nominating his chap- 
 lain (Dr. Chenevix) for a bishopric, the King hesi-
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. . 225 
 
 tated, and begged he would look out for another 
 candidate, he desired the Secretary of State to say, 
 that, in that case, his Majesty must look out for an- 
 other Lord-Lieutenant. He was equally peremptory 
 with the Irish placemen who were regarded as pledged 
 supporters of the Crown. The Master of the Rolls 
 (the place was then a sinecure) having given some 
 trouble in the House of Commons, he sent for him 
 and said — " Master, you must do the King's busi- 
 ness, or be turned out of your employment ; and if 
 you are, I shall not do as they do in England, for 
 you shall never come in again as long as I have any 
 power." This sounds harsh, but decided steps were 
 necessary to show that he had made up his mind not 
 to be thwarted ; or he would have been crossed at 
 every turn by the disappointed managers and their 
 friends. 
 
 The office of Principal Secretary had usually been 
 conferred on some clever, active, enterprising person, 
 who did the whole work and monopolised the chief 
 power (without the responsibility) of his Chief. Lord 
 Chesterfield chose a Secretary, as a ]\Iayor of the 
 Palace in the early days of the French monarchy 
 would have chosen a King ; he chose a Secretary 
 faineant. The gentleman thus honoured was Mr. 
 Lyddel, a Member of Parliament, and (to borrow 
 his noble patron's words) a very genteel pretty young 
 fellow, but not a man of business. He was thus ad- 
 dressed on his first visit, — "Sir, you will receive 
 the emoluments of your place, but I Avill do the 
 business myself, being determined to have no first 
 minister." The next step was to conciliate good- will 
 and inspire confidence. His Lordship's speech, on 
 opening the Session, was admirably adapted for this 
 purpose ; whilst the grace, dignity, and apparent 
 frankness with which it was delivered, had their full 
 influence on a susceptible people like the Irish. The 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 impression thus made was much aided by the timely 
 appearance of a supplemental Drapier's Letter, in 
 which Swift's style was imitated with sufficient exact- 
 ness to deceive the multitude. Dr. Maty thinks that 
 Lord Chesterfield had a hand in it. The Dean cer- 
 tainly had not ; for he was then dying, and unable to 
 hail the arrival of the only Lord-Lieutenant equal to 
 anything like an interchange of mind with him, to 
 whom he would not have said as he said to Lord 
 Carteret — " What, in God's name, do you do here ? 
 Get back to your own country, and send us our 
 boobies again." 
 
 It is told in the " Swiftiana," that the Dean never 
 could prevail on Lord Carteret to nominate him one 
 of the trustees of the linen manufactory, or even a 
 justice of peace. His Lordship always replied, " I 
 am sure, Mr. Dean, you despise those feathers, and 
 would not accept of them." The Dean ansv/ered, 
 *' No, my Lord, I do not, as I might be serviceable to 
 the public in both capacities ; but, as I would not be 
 governed by your Excellency, nor job at the board, 
 or suffer aljuses to pass there, or at a quarter- 
 session's assizes, I know that you will not indulge me 
 for the good of this unhappy nation ; but if I were a 
 worthless Member of Parliament, or a bishop, and 
 would vote for the court, and betray my country, 
 then you would readily grant my request." Lord 
 Carteret replied, with equal freedom and politeness, 
 " What you say is literally true, and therefore you 
 must excuse me." 
 
 AVe cannot describe Lord Chesterfield's adminis- 
 tration better than by saying, that he would gladly 
 have nominated the Dean to both : for he was a 
 declared enemy to jobs of all kinds ; he made it his 
 principal study to find out and correct abuses ; and, 
 far from discountenancing patriots who were likely 
 to give trouble, he anxiously sought out and put
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 227 
 
 himself into constant communication with all (like 
 Bishop Berkeley and Mr. Prior) who had the good of 
 the country at heart, and were qualified to give sound 
 advice in advancing it. Two short extracts from his 
 Letters to Mr. Prior will prove how just a view he 
 took of the character and real wants of the Irish ; 
 and how singularly superior he showed himself to 
 the cant and corruption of his day, which, alas ! has 
 hardly yet ceased to be the cant and corruption of 
 our own. 
 
 " These (schemes for manufictures of glass, paper, &c.) 
 are the sort of jobs that I wish people in Ireland would 
 attend to with as much industry and care as they do to jobs 
 of a very different nature. These honest arts would solidly 
 increase their fortunes, and improve their estates upon the 
 only true and permanent foundation, the public good. Leave 
 us and your regular forces in Ireland to fight for you, think 
 of your manufactures at least as much as of your militia, and 
 be as much upon your guard against poverty as against 
 Popery ; take my word for it, you are in more danger of the 
 former, than of the latter. 
 
 " I hope my friend, the Bishop of Meath, goes on pros- 
 perously with his charter-schools. I call them his ; for I 
 really think, that without his care and perseverance they 
 Avould hardly have existed now. Though their operation is 
 sure, yet, being slow, it is not suited to the Irish taste of the 
 time present only ; and I cannot help saying, that except in 
 your claret, tvhich yon are very solicitous should he two or 
 three years old, you think less of two or three years hence 
 than any people under the sun. 
 
 • • • 9 • 
 
 " I believe you will allow that a claret board, if there were 
 one, would be much better attended than the linen board, 
 unless when flax seed was to be distributed. I am sensible 
 that I shall be reckoned a very shallow politician, for giving 
 my attention to such trifling objects as the improvement of 
 your lands, the extension of your manufactures, and the 
 increase of your trade, which only tend to the advantages of 
 the public ; whereas an able Lord-Lieutenant ought to employ 
 his thoughts in greater matters, lie should think of jobs 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 for favourites, sops for enemies, managing parties, and en- 
 gaging parliaments to vote away their own and their fellow 
 subjects' liberties and properties. But these great arts of 
 government, I confess, are above me, and people should not 
 go out of their depth. I will modestly be content with 
 wishing Ireland all the good that is possible, and with doing 
 it all tlie good I can ; and so weak am I, that I would much 
 rather be distinguished and remembered by the name of the 
 Irish Lord-Lieutenant, than by that of the Lord-Lieutenant 
 of Ireland." 
 
 His opinions on the cardinal question, What is to 
 be done with the Roman Catholics ? are explained in 
 another well-known letter. " I came determined to 
 proscribe no set of persons, and to be governed by 
 none." He abided by these opinions throughout — 
 turnino; a deaf ear to the remonstrances of the 
 bigots, or parrying their remonstrances with a stroke 
 of pleasantry. " Why, my lord," said the Sir Har- 
 court Lees of that day, " your own coachman is a 
 Papist, and goes to mass every Sunday." " Does he, 
 indeed ! " replied the Lord-Lieutenant ; " I will take 
 good care that he does not drive me there." One 
 morning early, the vice-treasurer, Mr. Gardner, a red- 
 hot Orangeman, waited on him, and assured him on 
 the best authority that the Papists in the province of 
 Con naught were actually rising ; upon which Lord 
 Chesterfield took out his watch, and composedly ob- 
 served, " It is nine o'clock, and certainly time for 
 them to rise ; I therefore believe your news to be 
 true." All this time he was watching over the peace 
 of the country with Argus eyes, and the slightest 
 movement towards disaffection was observed. On 
 hearing that a Roman Catholic proprietor in the 
 neighbourhood of Dublin was an ao:ent of the Pre- 
 tender, he privately sent for him to the Castle. 
 "Sir," (said Lord Chesterfield,) "I do not wish to 
 inquire whether you have any particular employment
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 229 
 
 in this kingdom, but I know that you have a great 
 interest among those of your persuasion. I have 
 sent for you to exhort them to be peaceable and 
 quiet. If they behave like faithful subjects, they 
 shall be treated as such ; but if they act in a different 
 manner, I shall be worse to them than Cromwell." 
 
 Yet he cannot be accused of carrying the principle 
 of toleration to an undue extent ; for (according to 
 Dr. Maty) he thought the only honest and effectual 
 methods to be employed with regard to the Irish 
 Roman Catholics, were good usage, supporting the 
 charity schools, and adhering strictly to the Gavel 
 Act — that act by which the estates of a Papist were 
 to be divided equally among his nearest of kin, unless 
 one of them should turn Protestant, in wliich case 
 the convert was entitled to the whole ! Was this care- 
 lessness, or politic compliance with a received preju- 
 dice, or genuine bigotry, to be set down among the 
 follies of the wise ? Sir Thomas More lent a hand 
 to tighten the rack ; Lord Bacon favoured judicial 
 astrology ; Sir Matthew Hale burnt witches ; and the 
 lirst Lord-Lieutenant who introduced the principles 
 of justice and toleration into L^eland thought it right 
 to bribe men over to the true faith by allowing them 
 to rob their brothers and sisters of their patrimony ! 
 Yet with these startling examples of human fallibility 
 before our eyes, we go on, day after day, unconscious 
 of our errors, surprised at our weaknesses, loudly 
 triumphing over the inconsistencies of others, and 
 resorting to a thousand fallacies to palliate our own. 
 
 Upon leaving Ireland, he desired the Lord Chan- 
 cellor, the Bishop of Elphin, and the Lord Chief 
 Justice, to consider of any laws that might be for the 
 advantage of the kingdom, and have them ready 
 against his return. But in October 17-16, he con- 
 sented, much against his inclination, to exchange the 
 Lord-Lieutenancy for the seals of Secretary of State. 
 
 Q 3
 
 230 
 
 LORD CIlESTEliFIELD. 
 
 *' His project " (adds Lord Malion, on the first Lord 
 Holland's authority) " was to govern George the 
 Second through Lady Yarmouth, as he once had 
 hoped through Lady Suflblk." Tn this he failed, 
 though his insinuating manners had their ordinary 
 influence both with the lady and the King. It is said 
 that he was once chosen, or volunteered, to conquer 
 the King's repugnance to an important appointment. 
 On his producing the commission, and mentioning 
 the name, the King angrily refused, and said, I would 
 rather have the devil. " With all my heart," replied 
 the Earl ; " I only beg leave to put your Majesty in 
 mind, that tlie commission is addressed to our right 
 trusty and well beloved cousin.'^ The King laughed, 
 and said, My Lo7%l, do as you please. Yet the awk- 
 ward, shuffling, Duke of Newcastle managed to 
 shuffle him out of his place, despite of all his tact ; 
 or at least made it impossible for him to keep it with- 
 out a feeling of self-degradation ; since he was not 
 allowed to carry any one object, public or private, 
 which he was known to have thoroughly at heart. 
 
 After trying for the fifth or sixth time, by way of 
 testing his credit, to get a regiment for his cousin 
 John Stanliope, he resigned in January, 1748. " My 
 horse, my books, and my friends," (he writes to Mr. 
 Dayrolles,) " will divide my time pretty equally. I 
 shall not keep less company, but only better, for I 
 shall choose it." He did not choose well at starting ; 
 for the very evening of his resignation he repaired to 
 White's, and resumed his old habits of deep play. 
 He was fond of clubs ; and being once asked why he 
 was never seen at routs or assemblies, he answered, 
 that he never went to conventicles where there was 
 an established church. For some years subsequently 
 to his resignation he continued, as healtli permitted 
 and until quite incapacitated from deafness, to take a 
 prominent part in the proceedings of the House of 
 Lords ; and in 1751 he greatly distinguished himself
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 231 
 
 by his speech in bringing in the bill for the reform of 
 the Calendar. This undertaking did him honour on 
 many accounts ; for the difficulties of detail were 
 great, and the prejudices against it strong. He was 
 seconded by Lord Macclesfield, the President of the 
 Royal Society, and assisted by Mr. Bradley, the cele- 
 brated mathematician. Lord Mahon relates, that, 
 three years afterwards, when Lord Macclesfield's son 
 stood a contested election in Oxfordshire, one of the 
 most vehement cries raised against him was, " Give 
 us back the eleven days we have been robbed of." 
 Several years later, when Mr. Bradley was dying of a 
 lingering illness, the common people ascribed his suf- 
 ferings to a judgment from Heaven for having taken 
 part in that " impious undertaking." 
 
 In 1752 Lord Chesterfield's deafness became a fixed 
 topic of complaint. " In spite of my strong heredi- 
 tary right to deafness, how willingly would I part 
 with it to any minister, to whom hearing is often dis- 
 agreeable ; or to any fine woman, to whom it is often 
 dangerous ! " In 1775 : — " Retirement was my choice 
 seven years ago ; it is now become my necessary re- 
 fuge. Public life and I are parted for ever." 
 
 One resource remained to him. He had always 
 professed a strong attachment to literature, and had 
 cultivated some of the lighter branches with success. 
 His drawing-room verses (vers de societe) were in 
 vogue for a period ; and to be in vogue for a period 
 is as much as the writer of drawing-room verses 
 (even such as Luttrell's or William Spencer's) can 
 expect. It is a lucky chance, a thing on which to 
 plume himself, if a couplet descends to posterity ; and 
 one of Lord Chesterfield's (from " Advice to a Lady in 
 Autumn") is constantly quoted as a model of afiected 
 prettiness : — 
 
 " The dews of the evening most carefully shun, 
 Those tears of the sky for the loss of the sun." 
 
 Q 4
 
 232 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 An extempore couplet in a different style has been 
 j)reserved by a foreigner: "Sir Thomas Robinson," 
 (says M. Dutens,) " very tall and tliin, one day chal- 
 lenged Lord Chesterfield to make some verses on him. 
 Lord Chesterfield wrote immediately — 
 
 " ' Unlike my subject now shall be my song, 
 It shall be witty, and it sha'n't be long.'" 
 
 But incomparably his best epigram is the famous 
 one on seeing the full-length picture of Beau Nash, 
 between the busts of Pope and Newton, in the pump- 
 room at Bath. 
 
 " This picture placed the busts between, 
 Gives satire all its strength ; 
 Wisdom and Wit are little seen, 
 But Folly at full length." 
 
 Perhaps his best bon-mof was on hearing of the 
 marriage of a man of low family with the daughter 
 of a lady whose way of life threw doubts on the 
 paternity. He observed that nobody's son had mar- 
 ried everybody's daughter. Had he been only a lord 
 among wits, as Johnson termed him, we do not think 
 Pope would have paid him the celebrated compli- 
 ment — 
 
 " Accept a miracle instead of wit, 
 See two dull lines by Stanhope's pencil writ ; " 
 
 Or have exclaimed even in verse — 
 
 " How can I, Pulteney, Chesterfield forget, 
 While Roman spirit charms, or Attic wit? " 
 
 It is remarkable that, although Dr. Maty expatiates 
 largely on the familiar intercourse which Lord Chester- 
 field maintained with two generations of men of 
 letters, he says nothing on the disputed question of 
 the Earl's reception of Dr. Johnson ; or of the papers 
 in the " World " recommending the Dictionary ; or of 
 the indignant letter which they provoked. This
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 233 
 
 silence is ominous in a friendly biographer ; but we 
 incline to think that Mr. Croker has offered the true 
 solution, namely, that no slight was intended, and 
 that the lexicographer took fire without a cause. 
 Lord Chesterfield had the misfortune to offend another 
 man of genius (Smollett), who revenged himself in a 
 less justifiable manner. The virtuoso Peer in " Pere- 
 grine Pickle " was said to be intended for the Earl. 
 
 He married, in 1733, Melusina de Schulemburg, 
 the reputed daughter of George the First by the 
 Duchess of Kendal. She contributed little either to 
 his comfort or discomfort ; and his opinion of matri- 
 mony, which must be supposed to be tinged by his 
 own experience, was far from encouraging. " I have 
 at least (he writes in 1763) done the best ofiice that 
 can be done for most married people ; that is, I have 
 fixed the separation between my brother and his wife, 
 and the definitive treaty of peace will be proclaimed 
 in about a fortnight." He had no family by the 
 Countess, and all his parental interests were centred 
 in his illegitimate son, Philip Stanhope ; to whom the 
 famous " Letters " are addressed. 
 
 The mother was called Mrs. Du Bouchet. She 
 was a Frenchwoman of good birth, and the Earl 
 alwaj^s mentions her with respect. The son was born 
 in 1732. Every branch and period of his education 
 were minutely superintended by the father, who was 
 resolved to make him a pattern of learning, eloquence, 
 accomplishment, politeness, and grace. He turned out 
 the precise opposite, except in the article of learning. 
 Those who knew him best, describe him as a sensible, 
 plain-mannered man, with a good deal of book know- 
 ledge, and with no pretension to elegance in look, 
 gesture, or tone. He failed in the House of Commons, 
 and, with all his father's pushing, had only just con- 
 trived to reach a fifth-rate diplomatic station (that of 
 Envoy at Dresden) when he died. On his death in
 
 234 ' LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 1768, (five years before the Earl's,) it appeared that 
 he had been privately married for some years, and had 
 left a wife and two ehildren to be provided for. 
 This piece of dissimulation went a little beyond what 
 it was his Lordship's wish to inculcate, but he be- 
 haved liberally to the widow, who, notwithstanding, 
 took the unpardonable step of selling the whole of the 
 " Letters " to a bookseller. They fetched the large 
 price of 1575/. The first edition, dedicated to Lord 
 North, was published in 1774, and three large impres- 
 sions were sold within the year. Dr. Johnson accounts 
 for this by saying, " It "was not to be wondered that 
 they had so great a sale, considering that they were 
 the letters of a statesman, a wit, one who had been 
 so much in the mouths of mankind, one long accus- 
 tomed viimm volitare per ora.^^ But we think their 
 real merit was quite sufficient to justify their recep- 
 tion ; and we are convinced that the accidental cir- 
 cumstances connected with the collection have done 
 it more harm than good upon the whole. Let us first 
 examine the more popular and obvious objections to 
 them. 
 
 It is said that they inculcate immorality, and on 
 one point they do. The advice to form a liaison with 
 a married woman by the way of apprenticeship 
 in the art of pleasing, and the inquiries about la 
 jyetite Blot, are far from edifying ; but such pas- 
 sages must be read in connexion with the persons 
 and the time. We must not run away with the 
 notion that Lord Chesterfield thou2:ht it a becominir 
 or an improving thing for a young man to invade the 
 peace of a family, corrupt the mind of a young 
 woman en^ao;ed in the due discharge of the domestic 
 
 CD CJ O 
 
 duties, and lead her into ruin and disgrace. At the 
 period in question, the female leaders of fashion at 
 Paris were all more or less addicted to gallantry. 
 The enjoyment of a certain licence in this respect
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 235 
 
 was regarded as a prescriptive right ; and a husband 
 who should have endeavoured to interfere with it 
 would have been regarded as a monster. '■^ Illni faut 
 necessairement une passion^^^ (says Lord Chesterfield's 
 own protectress, addressing the company), " et sHl ne 
 ni'en juge pas digne tious lui en chercheroiis quelque 
 autre." It was in reference to this very state of 
 things that Burke, a man of stern morals, laid down 
 his celebrated axiom, that vice loses half its evil by 
 losing all its grossness. Lord Chesterfield had been 
 received on a familiar footing in the circle where 
 such arrangements were a matter of course ; he knew 
 they were attended with neither risk nor scandal ; 
 and he knew, moreover, that, at Paris, a man of 
 warm passions, in the heyday of youth, who did not 
 devote himself to one of these ladies, would probably 
 fall into worse hands, and form connexions ruinous 
 to health, fortune, manners, and morals. He there- 
 fore acted like a man of the world, and chose the 
 least of two evils; just as many a more virtuous 
 father would reconmiend his son to fis^lit a duel if 
 imperatively required by the law of honour, though 
 perfectly aware that he was recommending an action 
 forbidden by the law of God. Lord Chesterfield 
 may have done wrong; the advice may have been 
 bad advice, particularly as regarded the person to 
 whom it was addressed ; but we protest against its 
 being argued that he systematically disregarded virtue, 
 or made light of principle, because he submitted to 
 this compromise with expediency. 
 
 It is also objected to the " Letters " that they teach 
 dissimulation ; but this must not be understood as 
 implying a low estimate of truth. It is impossible 
 for the most pious or exemplary father to express 
 himself more pointedly than the noble writer against 
 lying : — 
 
 " There is nothing so delicate as your moral character,
 
 236 
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 and nothing which it is your interest so much to preserve 
 pure. Should you be suspected of injustice, mahgnity, 
 perfidy, lying, &c., all the parts and knowledge in the world 
 will never procure you esteem, friendship, or respect. A 
 strange concurrence of circumstances has sometimes raised 
 very bad men to high stations ; but they have been raised 
 like criminals to a pillory, where their persons, and their 
 crimes, by being more conspicuous, are only the more known, 
 the more detested, and the more pelted and insulted. If, 
 in any case whatsoever, affectation and ostentation are par- 
 donable, it is in the case of morality ; though, even there, 
 I would not advise you to a pharisaical pomp of virtue. 
 But I Avill recommend to you a most scrupulous tenderness 
 for your moral character, and the utmost care not to say 
 or do the least thing that may, ever so slightly, taint it. 
 Show yourself, upon all occasions, the advocate, the friend, 
 but not the bully of virtue. Colonel Chartres, whom you 
 have certainly heard of, (who was, I believe, the most no- 
 torious blasted rascal in the world, and who had by all 
 sorts of crimes amassed immense wealth), was so sensible of 
 the disadvantage of a bad character, that I heard him once 
 say, in his impudent and profligate manner, that, though 
 he would not o-ive one farthino- for virtue, he would wive 
 ten thousand pounds for a character ; because he should get 
 a hundred thousand pounds by it ; whereas he was so blasted 
 that he had no longer an opportunity of cheating people. Is 
 it possible, then, that an honest man would neglect what a 
 wise rogue would purchase so dear?" 
 
 The only kind of dissimulation he teaches is that 
 absolutely indispensable for a diplomatist, (Mr. 
 Stanhope's intended profession,) and the conceal- 
 ment every prudent man practises. Burns has hit 
 it off exactly in his " Epistle to a Young Friend :" — 
 
 " Aye free, aff han' your story tell, 
 
 When wi' a bosom crony ; 
 But still keep something to yoursel' 
 
 Ye scarcely tell to ony. 
 Conceal yoursel' as weel's ye can 
 
 Frae critical dissection ; 
 But keek thro' every other man, 
 
 Wi' sharpen' (1 sly inspection."
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 237 
 
 It is remarkable that, on the more delicate subject 
 (humoral ties between the sexes), the peasant, looking 
 at it in a mere worldly point of view, has pointed out 
 a consequence which escaped the penetration of tlie 
 peer : — 
 
 " The sacred lowe o' weel-placed love, 
 
 Luxuriantly indulge it ; 
 But never tempt th' illicit rove, 
 
 Tlio' naething should divulge it : 
 I waive the quantum o' the sin, 
 
 The hazard o' concealing ; 
 But, oh ! it hardens a ivithin. 
 
 And petrijies the feeling ! " 
 
 Another ground of objection is the undue stress 
 laid on manner, with the eternal recurrence to the 
 Graces. Lord j\Iahon meets this by the known fact 
 that Philip Stanhope was diligent — nay, eager — in 
 the pursuit of solid knowledge, but careless to a 
 culpable degree of both dress and address. There 
 can be no doubt, however, that Lord Chesterfield 
 was far too much impressed with the importance of 
 superficial accomplishments, and too prone to under- 
 value the average information and understanding of 
 society. At all events, we should not recommend 
 any embryo Senator to suppose the following advice 
 still applicable : — 
 
 " I was to bring in this bill, (for the Reform of the Calen- 
 dar,) which was necessarily composed of law jargon and 
 asti'onomical calculations, to both which I am an utter 
 stranger. However, it was absolutely necessary to make 
 the House of Lords think that I knew something of the 
 matter, and also to make them believe that they knew some- 
 thing of it themselves, which they do not. For my own 
 part, I could just as soon have talked Celtic or Sclavonian 
 to them as astronomy, and they would have understood me 
 full as well ; so I resolved to do better than speak to the 
 purpose, and to please instead of informing them. I gave 
 them, therefore, only an historical account of calendars, from 
 the Egyptian down to the Gregorian, amusing them now
 
 238 LOKD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 and then witli little episodes ; but I was particularly attentive 
 to the choice of my words, to the harmony and soundness of 
 my periods, to my elocution, to my action. This succeeded, 
 and ever will succeed : they thouglit I informed, because I 
 pleased them ; and many of them said that I had made the 
 whole very clear to them, when, God knows, I had not even 
 attempted it. Lord Macclesfield, who had the greatest share 
 in framing the bill, and who is one of the greatest mathe- 
 maticians and astronomers in Europe, spoke afterwards with 
 infinite knowledge, and all the clearness that so intricate a 
 matter would admit of; but as his words, his periods, and 
 his utterance, were not near so good as mine, the preference 
 was most unanimously, though most unjustly, given to me. 
 This will ever be the case ; every numerous assembly is a 
 mob, let the individuals who compose it be what they will! 
 
 • • • • • m 
 
 " WJien you come into the House of Commons, if you 
 imagine that speaking plain and unadorned sense and reason 
 will do your business, you will find yourself most grossly 
 mistaken. As a speaker, you will be ranked only according 
 to your eloquence, and by no means according to your 
 matter ; everybody knows the matter almost alike, but few 
 can adorn it. 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 *'I want to inculcate this known truth into you, which 
 you seem by no means to be convinced of yet — that orna- 
 ments are at present your only objects. Weight without 
 lustre is lead. You had better talk trifles elegantly to the 
 most trifling woman, than coarse inelegant sense to the 
 most solid man. You had better return a dropped fan 
 genteelly, than give a thousand pounds awkwardly; and you 
 had better refuse a favour gracefully than grant it clumsily. 
 Manner is all in everything ; it is by manner only that you 
 can please, and consequently rise. All your Greek will never 
 advance you from secretary to envoy, or from envoy to 
 ambassador; but your address, your manner, your air, if 
 good, very probably may. Marcel can be of mucli more use 
 to you than Aristotle. I would, upon my word, much rather 
 that you had Lord Bolingbroke's style and eloquence, in 
 speaking and writing, than all the learning of the Academy 
 of Sciences, the Royal Society, and the two Universities 
 united."
 
 LORD CIIESTEIiriELD. 239 
 
 Lord Chatham was a striking example of the power 
 of manner, and of all that Demosthenes meant by 
 action in oratory ; but then his tire, his boldness, his 
 splendid imagination, and idiomatic English, were 
 sterling qualities of the highest order. Lord Mans- 
 field, " the silver-tongued Murray," again, was all 
 grace, ease, suavity, and mellifluence ; his bare narra- 
 tive was said to be worth any other man's argument; 
 but this arose from the perfection of his logic, the ex- 
 cellence of his arrangement, and his thorough mastery 
 of the subject in hand. Lord Chesterfield's mistake 
 consists in not seeing, or not saying, that there must 
 be a foundation for the superstructure. There may 
 be a great deal of difference between times when the 
 House of Commons was filled with men of birth and 
 fortune, who took little part in real business, and times 
 like the present, when it is principally composed of 
 real and {nolentes volentes) hard-working representa- 
 tives. But we doubt whetlier there ever was a time 
 when plain unadorned good sense and reason, clearly 
 expressed in appropriate language, would not (to 
 borrow Lord Chesterfield's phrase) have done a man's 
 business better than the most polished oration, tricked 
 out with the choicest ornaments, where the obvious 
 aim was less to convince or give information than to 
 shine. 
 
 His Lordship does himself and his illustrious audi- 
 ence great injustice in what he says about his speech 
 on the reform of the calendar. The truth is, he told 
 them all it was necessary for them to know, and all 
 any assembly but an assembly of savans could have 
 understood, regarding the purpose of the Bill. It 
 was not necessary to talk astronomy in order to prove 
 the inconvenience of an erroneous calendar, or the 
 propriety of adopting the best ; and an historical 
 account of calendars was the most judicious mode of 
 disabusing the public, then clamouring against the
 
 240 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 measure under a full conviction that the established 
 calendar was a sacred thing, and no more a subject of 
 leo;islative interference than the Decaloo^ue. Lord 
 Macclesfield's speech, subsequently printed, was ad- 
 dressed to the scientific world, and was equally useful 
 in its way ; but it ought to have been reserved for 
 the chair of the Royal Society, which the noble speaker 
 was afterwards called upon to fill. 
 
 The same turn of mind which colours the remarks 
 on oratory, pervades the practical advice on many 
 other subjects ; although the peculiar tendencies of 
 Mr. Stanhope make it difficult to say when Lord 
 Chesterfiield was expressing his real opinions on many 
 of them. It is clear, however, tlmt his Lordship fell 
 into what strikes us to be a great error regarding the 
 attention to be paid to natural character or genius, 
 and the possibility or prudence of controlling it. He 
 has an unlimited confidence in education ; he thinks 
 that the human mind and body may be trained to 
 anything; that it is our own fault if we do not obtain 
 the supreme control of our passions, the entire com- 
 mand of our faces, and the complete mastery of our 
 limbs; that, if we will but take pains, we may possess 
 most of the good qualities, and avoid all the bad ; 
 that we may be as learned, eloquent, graceful, and 
 agreeable as we please ; that any young man may 
 take his degree in the art of pleasing as regularly as 
 in the classics, and become in due course the darling 
 of the women and the envy of the men ; or, without 
 the least reference to natural aptitude, may confi- 
 dently set about making himself a courtier, a diplo- 
 matist, or an orator — in short, anything but a poet; 
 which, possibly out of respect for the old maxim, is 
 allowed to form an exception to the theory. Yet 
 something may be done even with poets. — "If Shak- 
 speare's genius had been cultivated, those beauties 
 which we so justly admire would have been undis- 
 
 i
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 241 
 
 guised by those extravagancies and that nonsense with 
 wliich they are frequently accompanied." 
 
 Acting on these principles, Lord Chesterfield de- 
 votes his best energies, during a series of years, to the 
 task of qualifying young Stanhope to play the very 
 part of all others for which he was palpably unfit. A 
 heavy-looking, loutish lad, with good dispositions and 
 a taste for solid acquirements, is to be manufactured 
 into an easy, graceful man of fashion ; to be endowed 
 invito, Minerva with all the superficial accomplish- 
 ments, and inoculated, in his own despite, with all 
 the lighter vices ; in the hope (too often vain) that 
 they will polish without hardening, and be abandoned 
 at the proper season for the graver cares and higher 
 duties of society. Lord Chesterfield might just as 
 well have told such a son to be six feet high as to be 
 eloquent, to have a Roman nose as to be graceful, to 
 write like Pope as to bow like the Due de Richelieu ; 
 and we strongly suspect that the donkey playing lap- 
 dog, was a fair type of the neophyte in the boudoir 
 of la petite Blot, if indeed he ever got so far. The 
 tenacity with which the Earl clung to his plan long 
 after every one else had seen its hopelessness, is won- 
 derful. The scales grew thicker and thicker, instead 
 of dropping from his eyes ; his son must and shall be 
 a modern Alcibiades ; all his old friends and former 
 mistresses are adjured to make him one ; and by way, 
 we suppose, of putting the youth entirely at his ease, 
 he is expressly told that a hundred eyes are watching 
 him ; and that, if he eventually falls short of the ideal 
 standard, he may lay his account with findino- all 
 fatherly favour and aff^ection at an end for ever. 
 
 The result is well known. The only one of his 
 father's favourite accomplishments which young Stan- 
 hope acquired and improved upon, was dissimulation; 
 and the skill with which he managed to conceal his 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 private marriage during so many years, shows that 
 ]ie was no mean proficient in it. But Ave do not 
 found our judgment on the result. The scheme was 
 absurd from the beginning : the whole theory is 
 radically wrong. E quovis ligno non fit Mercurius. 
 No parent should begin telling a boy to be this thing 
 or that thing, before he sees what nature meant him 
 for; that is, till the quaUties, capabilities, or ten- 
 dencies of the individual can be discriminated. It 
 may be true that these are the effects of external cir- 
 cumstances, and not born with us ; but they are 
 commonly fixed at a period long antecedent to that 
 at which education ever does or probably ever can 
 begin.* Pope wrote excellent verses ajt fourteen. 
 Lawrence painted beautifully when a mere boy. 
 Madame de .Stael was deep in the philosophy of 
 politics at an age when an ordinary girl would have 
 been dressing dolls. Nelson had made up his mind 
 to be a hero before he was old enough to be a mid- 
 shipman ; and Napoleon was already at the "head of 
 armies when pelting snowballs at Brienne. 
 
 Although character is less strongly marked among 
 the common herd, an acute observer will constantly 
 discover traces of it. Go through any large school, 
 and you will have no difficulty in picking out the boys 
 most remarkable for neatness or slovenliness, clever- 
 ness or stupidity, excess of spirit or the lack of it ; 
 though you may not prove a match in discrimination 
 for Smollett's schoolmaster, who, when some of his 
 neighbours were boasting the superior decorum and 
 
 * " It is then a fact, that the early sequences to which we are accus- 
 tomed form the primary habits, and that the primary habits are the • 
 fundamental character of the man. The consequence is most important; 
 for it follows that as soon as tlie infant, or rather the embryo, begins to 
 feel, the character begins to be formed ; and that the habits whicli are 
 then contracted are the most pervading and operative of all." (^Encij- 
 clopcedia Britannica — Art. Education, by the late James Mill.)
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 243 
 
 propriety of their young pupils, observed, " It may be 
 all very true, but give me before them all my ain 
 bubbly-nosed callant, with the stane in his pouch ; " 
 — words (adds Sir Walter Scott, for the benefit of 
 southern readers) containing a faithful sketch of a 
 negligent, unlucky, but spirited urchin, never without 
 some mischievous prank in his head, and a stone in 
 his pocket ready to execute it. Would any schooling 
 in the world have made a staid, sober merchant, or a 
 respectable Kirk Minister, of Smollett ? The moral is 
 obvious. Pursue the best system of general education 
 until some marked tendency or peculiarity of genius 
 begins to show itself, and then be regulated by that. 
 Make the best of a bad matter, if it be a bad matter ; 
 but do not get restless, impatient, unreasonable, and 
 contradictory, because, instead of the good quality 
 you had set your heart upon, you find another good 
 quality of a different description in your son. Years 
 after young Stanhope's character was stereotyped, 
 Lord Chesterfield writes thus : — 
 
 " Many fools (speaking of you) say to me, what ! would 
 you have him perfect? I answered, why not? What 
 hurt would it do him or me ? Oh, but that is impossible, 
 say they! I reply, I am not sure of that: perfection in the 
 abstract I admit to be unattainable ; but what is commonly 
 called perfection in a character, I maintain to be attainable ; 
 and not only that, but in every man's power. He has, 
 continue they, a good head, a good heart, a good fund of 
 knowledge, which will increase daily ; what would you have 
 more? Why, I would have everythinp; more that can adorn 
 and complete a character. Will it do his head, his heart, or 
 his knowledge any harm, to have the utmost delicacy of 
 manners, the most shining advantages of air and address, the 
 most endearing attentions, and the most engaging graces? 
 But as he is, say they, he is loved wherever he is known. I 
 am very glad of it, say I ; but I would have him be liked 
 before he is known, and loved afterwards. I would have 
 
 R 2
 
 244 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 him, by his first abord and address, make people wish to know 
 him, and inclined to love him ; he will save a great deal of 
 time by it. 
 
 " Come, come, say they, (substituting, as is frequently 
 done, assertion instead of argument,) depend upon it, he will 
 do very well ; and you have a great deal of reason to be 
 satisfied with him. I liope and believe he will- do well ; but 
 I would have him to do better than well. I am very well 
 pleased with him ; but I would be more — I would be proud 
 of him. I would have him have lustre as well as weight. 
 Did you ever know any body that reunited all these talents ? 
 Yes, I did : Lord Bolingbroke joined all the politeness, the 
 manners, and the graces of a courtier, to the solidity of a 
 statesman and to the learning of a j)edant. He was omnis 
 homo; and pray, what should hinder my boy from being so 
 too, if he has, as I think he has, all the other qualifications 
 that you allow him ? Nothing can hinder him but neglect 
 of, or inattention to, those objects, which his own good sense 
 must tell him are of infinite consequence to him ; and which, 
 therefore, I will not suppose him capable of either neglecting 
 or despising. This (to tell you the whole truth) is the result 
 of a controversy that passed yesterday between Lady Ilervey 
 and myself, upon your subject, and almost in these very 
 words." 
 
 Who can doubt that Lady Hervey had the best of 
 the argument ? and she might have pushed it still 
 further. A man is not only more likely to succeed 
 in life, but far more likely to please and inspire con- 
 fidence among his intimates, by following the bent of 
 his genius and letting his true character be seen ; — 
 always, of course, with due subordination to pro- 
 priety. Eagerness, excitability, and vivacity, will be 
 pardoned for the sake of earnestness, generosity, and 
 truth. We not only esteem more, but actually like 
 better, the friend who ruffles us with an occasional 
 contradiction ; and, let Lord Chesterfield say what he 
 will about its not being gentlemanlike, a laugh is too 
 good a thing to be sacrificed to the Graces, should 
 tliey be cross and uncongenial enough to ask for it, —
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 245 
 
 which (if one of their truest worshippers may be re- 
 garded as tiieir interpreter) they would not: — 
 
 " While her laugb, full of mirth, without any control 
 But the sweet one of gracefulness, rung from her soul ; 
 And where it most sparkled no glance could discover, 
 In lip, cheek, or eye, for she brighten'd all over, 
 Like any fair lake that the breeze is upon. 
 When it breaks into dimples and laughs in the sun." 
 
 If a pretty woman and a lake may laugh, it seems 
 hard that a gentleman should be restricted to a smile. 
 But the prohibition is absolute : — " Laughter is easily 
 restrained by a little reflection ; but as it is generally 
 connected with the idea of gaiety, people do not attend 
 to its absurdity. I am neither of a melancholy nor a 
 cynical disposition ; and am as Avilling and as apt to 
 be pleased as any body ; but I am sure that, since I 
 have had the full use of my reason, nobody has ever 
 heard me laugh." 
 
 We suspect that his lordship himself would have 
 done better if he had been heard to laugh ; — if occa- 
 sionally he had given way to a natural flow of spirits, 
 and not impressed the public with the notion that 
 everything he said or did was calculated. He was 
 beyond all question the politest, best-bred, most 
 insinuating man about the court ; yet he was regu- 
 larly outflanked and outmanoeuvred by Sir Robert 
 Walpole, who had the heartiest laugh in the kingdom, 
 and by the Duke of Newcastle, who had the worst 
 manners in the world. The solution is, that his 
 Lordship played too fine a game, and finessed too 
 much. While he was coaxing Mrs. Howard to take 
 him up the back-stairs, Sir Robert Walpole had 
 walked straight to the royal closet, and was telling 
 Queen Caroline a coarse story ; and the county mem- 
 ber, who had left the Earl with feelings of awkward- 
 ness akin to those of Squire Western among the fine 
 company at Lady Bellaston's, was soothed into self- 
 
 K 3
 
 246 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 complacency and put completely at his ease by the 
 bear-like hugs and cordial caresses of the Duke.* 
 Lord Chesterfield's emphatic injunctions to his son, 
 to take care and stand well with every human being 
 about a petty German court, because even a valet or 
 a waiting-maid might be a step on the ladder of pre- 
 ferment, reminds us of the interest on which Lieu- 
 tenant Bowling calculated for getting Roderick 
 Random the appointment of a surgeon's mate : — 
 " The beadle of the Admiralty is my good friend, and 
 he and one of the under-clerks are sworn brothers, 
 and that under-clerk has a good deal to say with one 
 of the upper-clerks, who, upon his recommendation, 
 I hope will recommend my affair to the fir§t secretary, 
 and he again will speak to one of the lords in my 
 behalf, so that you see I do not want friends to assist 
 me on occasion." 
 
 Moreover, in matters of court-craft, or any matters 
 touching the finer parts of conduct, precepts only 
 serve to embarrass, and no experience avails us but 
 our own. It may be true as regards other branches 
 of knowledge, but it is not true as regards what is 
 called the knowledge of life, that a dwarf standing on 
 a giant's shoulders will see farther than the giant. 
 On the contrary, the chances are, that the dwarf will 
 grow giddy and get a tumble, or not be able to see at 
 all. Can maxims give quickness and delicacy of per- 
 ception, sensibility, fancy, grace of movement, or that 
 fine composite quality called tact 1 If not, all ex- 
 hortations to be winning, attractive, seductive, agree- 
 able — OL fortiori^ to practise particular methods of 
 riveting the attention or engaging the affections — 
 are preposterous. The poet may talk of snatching a 
 
 * " When at last he came into his levee room, he accosted, hugged, 
 embraced, and praised every body, with a seeming cordiality, but at the 
 same time with an illiberal and degrading familiarity." (Lord Chester- 
 field's Characters — Duke of Newcastle.)
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 247 
 
 "grace beyond the reach of art; " but all graces are 
 beyond the reach of art, except such art as is more 
 than half nature; and the Mentor m manners must 
 content himself with telling the pupil what he is not 
 to do, leaving what he is to do to his own sense of 
 fitness and sagacity. It would have been a curious 
 spectacle to watch young Stanhope repeating his 
 conned lessons of politeness or gallantry — to hear him 
 expatiating " unaffectedly and with a kind of enjoue- 
 ment " on the greatness of the House of Savoy to the 
 courtiers at Turin — or to see him with un ton du 
 douceur^ and des regards tendres^ endeavouring to win 
 the favour of a Parisian coquette. We allude to such 
 passages as these: — 
 
 " Make your court particularly, and show distinguished 
 attentions to such men and women as are best at court, 
 highest in the fashion and in the opinion of the public; 
 speak advantageously of tlieni behind their backs, in com- 
 panies who you have reason to believe will tell them again. 
 Express your admiration of the many great men that the 
 House of Savoy has produced; observe that nature, instead 
 of being exliausted by these efforts, seems to have redoubled 
 them in the persons of the present King and the Duke of 
 Savoy ; wonder at this rate where it will end, and conclude 
 that it must end in the government of all Europe. Say this 
 likewise where it will probably be repeated ; but say it unaf- 
 fectedly, and the last especially with a kind of enjouemenV 
 (Vol. i. p. 272.) 
 
 " Je vous conseille de debuter plutot par Madame Dupin, 
 qui a encore de la beautc plus qu'il n'en faut pour un jeune 
 drole comme vous ; elle a aussi du mondc, de I'esprit, de la 
 dclicatesse ; son age ne lui laisse pas absolument le choix 
 de ses amans, et je vous reponds qu'elle ue rejetteroit pas 
 les offres de vos tres-humbles services. Distinguez-la done 
 par vos attentions, ct des regards tcndrcs; et prenez les 
 occasions favorables de lui dire a I'oreille que vous voudricz 
 bien rpie raniitic et Testime fussent les seuls motifs de vos 
 cgards pour elle, mais que des scntimcns bien plus tendres 
 en sont les veritablcs sources. Que vous souflriez en les lui 
 
 B 4
 
 248 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 declarant, mais que vous soufFriez encore plus en les lui 
 caciiant." (Vol. ii. p. 151.) 
 
 The really useful hints are such as these : — 
 
 " In order to judge of the inside of others, study your own ; 
 but men in general are very much alike ; and tiiough one has 
 one prevailing passion, and another has another, yet their 
 operations are much the same ; and whatever engages or dis- 
 gusts, pleases or offends you in others, will, mutatis mutandis, 
 engage, disgust, please, or offend others in you. Observe, 
 with the utmost attention, all the operations of your own 
 mind, the nature of your passions, and the various motives 
 that determine your will ; and you may, in a great degree, 
 know all mankind. For instance, do you find yourself hurt 
 and mortified when another makes you feel his superiority, 
 and your own inferiority in knowledge, parts, rank, or fortune? 
 You Avill certainly take great care not to make a person, 
 whose good will, good word, interest, esteem, or friendship, 
 you would gain, feel that superiority in you, in case you 
 have it. If disagreeable insinuations, sly sneers, or repeated 
 contradictions, tease and irritate you, would you use them 
 where you wished to engage and please ? Surely not ; and 
 I hope you wish to engage and please, almost universally. 
 The temptation of saying a smart or witty thing, or bon-mot, 
 and the malicious applause with which it is commonly re- 
 ceived, has made people who can say them, and, still oftener, 
 people who think they can, but cannot, and yet try, more 
 enemies, and imjjlacable ones too, than any one other thing 
 that I know of. When such things, then, shall happen to be 
 said at your expense, (as sometimes they certainly will,) re- 
 flect seriously upon the sentiments, uneasiness, anger, and 
 resentment, which they excite in you ; and consider whether 
 it can be prudent, by the same means, to excite the same sen- 
 timents in others against you. It is a decided folly to lose a 
 friend for a jest ; but, in my mind, is not a much less degree 
 of folly to make an enemy of an indifferent and neutral per- 
 son for the sake of a bon-mot.''^ 
 
 Lord Chesterfield's correspondence abounds in such 
 passages, in which, be it observed, the style is as 
 much entitled to admiration as the sense; and we
 
 LORD CHESTEKFIELD. 249 
 
 could turn to page after page on which La Rochfou- 
 caulcl would stop to meditate, or which La Bruyere 
 would hail as an improvement on his own. But it 
 requires knowledge and experience to appreciate 
 them ; and, on the whole, we quite agree with Lord 
 Mahon, that it is only persons whose principles are 
 fixed and understandings matured, who can derive 
 the full benefit, without risk of evil, from the Letters 
 on Education. We recommend every parent who is 
 bringing up a son for public life to study them ; but 
 we differ from Dr. Johnson as to the propriety of 
 placing them in the hands of any young gentleman, 
 even after taking out the immorality. A premature 
 second-hand knowledge of mankind, with its common 
 accompaniments of caution and self-seeking, would 
 be a poor exchange for the frankness, openness, frolic 
 spirits, and confiding generosity of youth. The re- 
 marks on women, thickly scattered and pointedly 
 expressed, are alone sufficient to do an infinity of 
 harm to readers who are not prepared by personal 
 experience to weigh the sweetness, devotedness, and 
 high principle of one half of the sex against the 
 weakness or littleness of the other ; and it must not 
 be forgotten for a moment, that, if we never glow 
 with enthusiasm, and only arrive at virtue through 
 expediency, the highest and most improving lesson 
 we can ever learn or teach is worldliness. 
 
 His Lordship's " Characters" have great value for the 
 historian and the student of history. He had enjoyed 
 excellent opportunities of observing what he described : 
 he was an acute critic ; and he obviously did his best 
 to arrive at strict impartiality. But almost all who 
 sat to ]iim, consciously or unconsciously, for their 
 portraits, had been his colleagues in office or his 
 competitors for power. He cannot be regarded as a 
 mere looker-on at the game of politics ; indeed, his 
 statements and speculations derive their chief weight
 
 250 
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 from his connexion with the principal players, and 
 his peculiar cast of mind must have warped his 
 judgment in his own despite. These celebrated 
 sketches, therefore, should be read with distrust, and 
 by tlie light of contemporary and often conflicting 
 authority. Neither, considering that the Augustan 
 age of English literature had preceded them by half 
 a century, can their style be deemed irreproachable. 
 In parts it is even slovenly, and might well justify a 
 suspicion that some at least of these supposed like- 
 nesses had not received the last finish from his hand. 
 The fragment entitled " Lord Bute, with an Account 
 of his Administration " (first printed in Lord Mahon's 
 edition of the " Letters "), is perhaps the best of Lord 
 Chesterfield's essays in this line. His peculiar style 
 of reflection and expression is particularly shown in 
 such passages as these : — 
 
 '' The scandalous chronicle says that he (Lord Bute) was a 
 still greater favourite of the Princess of Wales. I will not, nor 
 cannot decide upon that fact. It is certain, on the one hand, 
 that there were many very strong indications of the tenderest 
 connexion between them ; but, on the other hand, when one 
 considers how deceitful appearances often are in those affairs, 
 the capriciousness and inconsistency of women, which make 
 them often be unjustly suspected, and the impi'obability of 
 knowing exactly what passes in tete-a-tetes, one is reduced to 
 mere conjecture. Those who have been conversant in that 
 sort of business, will be sensible of the truth of this reflec- 
 tion." ..." The particulars of what passed at either 
 or both of these audiences (Mr. Pitt's with the King), I am 
 sure I do not knoAV, though everybody else does to a tittle ; 
 but, in my opinion, those political tete u-ietes, like amorous 
 ones, a huis clos, leave only room for conjectureSj but none 
 for certainty ; and the perft)rmers only are able to tell — what, 
 by the way, they never do tell, — the truth, the whole truth, 
 and nothing but the truth." 
 
 It is curious that Lord Chesterfield's self-know- 
 ledge should have failed to put him on his guard
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 251 
 
 against what he was constantly describing as the 
 most insidious and effective means of warping the 
 judgment and conciliating the favourable opinion of 
 mankind. It was the brilliant eloquence, graceful 
 address, and external accomplishments of Boling- 
 broke, not the depth of his philosophy, or the com- 
 bined justness and comprehensiveness of his under- 
 standing, that led his noble admirer to describe him 
 as "a most mortifying instance of the violence of 
 human passions, and of the weakness of the most 
 improved and exalted^ human reason;''^ as if, like 
 Bacon, he were the wisest, brightest, and weakest (if 
 not meanest) of mankind. Bolingbroke's political 
 essays are still read for the sake of his style, which 
 flows with a clear, rapid, abundant, and occasionally 
 sparkling current ; although it is far inferior to 
 Dry den's in rich and varied ornament, to Addison's 
 in idiomatic ease, and to Swift's in perspicuity ; but 
 his philosophical lucubrations are principally remem- 
 bered by Dr. Johnson's rough denunciation of them 
 and their author — " Sir, he was scoundrel and a 
 coward — a scoundrel, for charging a blunderbuss 
 against religion and morality ; a coward, because he 
 had not the resolution to fire it off himself, but lel't 
 half-a-crown to a beggarly Scotchman (Mallett) to 
 draw the trigger after his death." 
 
 There is a popular superstition about wills which 
 has been known to influence men of acknowledged 
 strength of mind ; but, on the other hand, a will has 
 frequently been selected as the depository of a post- 
 humous jest or sarcasm. David Hume, in humorous 
 reference to his cousin John Home's dislike of port, 
 bequeathed the author of " Douglas " two dozen, on 
 condition that he lairly drank it out himself; and 
 Lord Chesterfield thus limits the devise ot his pro- 
 perty to his heir: — "In case my godson, Philip 
 Stanhope, shall at any time hereinafter keep, or be
 
 252 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 
 
 concerned In the keeping, of any race-liorses or pack 
 of hounds, or reside one night at Newmarket, that 
 infamous seminary of iniquity and ill manners, 
 during the course of the races there ; or shall resort 
 to the said races, or shall lose in any one day, at any 
 game or bet whatsoever, the sum of 500^. ; then, in 
 any of the cases aforesaid, it is my express wish that 
 he, my said godson, shall forfeit and pay out of my 
 estate the sum of 5000^., to and for the use of the 
 dean and chapter of Westminster." This last sen- 
 tence, adds Lord Mahon, contains a lively touch of 
 satire. The Earl found, or believed that he found, the 
 chapter of Westminster of that day exorbitant and 
 grasping in their negotiations vv^ith him respecting 
 the purchase of land for the building of Chesterfield 
 House ; and he declared that he now inserted tlieir 
 names in his will because he felt sure that, if the 
 penalty should be incurred, they would not be remiss 
 in claiming it. 
 
 Lord Chesterfield died on the 24th of March, 1773, 
 in the 79th year of his age, and was succeeded in his 
 title and estates by a distant kinsman, Philip Stan- 
 hope, the father of the present Earl. The concluding 
 period of his life was far from happy, though he was 
 apparently surrounded with all that should accom- 
 pany old age. The son of his affections was no more, 
 and had disappointed him ; he derived no comfort from 
 his wife ; he had failed, according to his own notions, 
 as a courtier ; and his deafness had deprived him of 
 his chief enjoyment in society. M. Suard, who saw 
 him in 1769, says — "Je viens d'etre presente au 
 Comte de Chesterfield, qui a ete, comme vous savez, 
 riiomme le plus aimable, le plus poli, le plus spirituel 
 des trois royaunies; mais, helas ! quantum mutatus ab 
 illo! II est bien triste d'etre sourd, nous dit-il, 
 quand on aurait beaucoup de plaisir a ecouter. Je 
 ne suis pas aussi sage que mon ami le President de
 
 LORD CHESTERFIELD. 253 
 
 ]\[ontesquieii. Je sais etre aveugle, m'a-t-il dit plu- 
 sieurs fois, et moi je ne sais pas encore etre sourd." 
 He called his daily drive through the streets the 
 rehearsal of his funeral, and used to say of Lord 
 Tyrawley and himself: " Tyrawley and I have been 
 dead these two 3^ears, but we don't choose to have it 
 known." 
 
 The loss of sight was added to his other miseries ; 
 but he retained his memory and his politeness to his 
 latest breath. Only lialf an hour before he died, 
 Mr. Dayrolles came to see him, and the Earl had 
 just strength enough to gasp out in a faint voice from 
 his bed — " Give Dayrolles a chair." " His good 
 breeding," exclaimed Dr. Warren, the physician in 
 attendance, " only quits him with his life ! "
 
 254, 
 
 LORD MELBOURNE.* 
 
 (From the Morning Chronicle, Nov. 27, 1841. ) 
 
 The death of Lord Melbourne, although the last six 
 years of his life were passed in retirement, has made 
 a deep and melancholy impression upon many who 
 were never honoured by his friendship, fascinated by 
 his conversation, or gladdened by his laugh. It is 
 very generally felt that another great illustration of a 
 bygone period has been taken from us ; and we admire 
 and mourn over him, without pausing -to ask, or 
 caring to know, whether the prominent and ostensible 
 parts he played on the stage of public life will justify 
 our admiration, or account for our regret. Perhaps 
 they will not. In this peculiar instance, the statesman 
 is indissolubly blended with the man. It would be a 
 crying injustice to his memory merely to number up 
 the offices he filled, the speeches he made in this or 
 that House, the measures he did or did not carry, 
 and forget the influence of his frankness, manliness, 
 sterling good sense, independent tone of thought, 
 chivalrous honour, and consummate knowledge of his 
 countrymen, when the throne relied on him as its 
 chief supporter, or when agitation was on the point 
 of becomino; revolution at the biddino; of colleaojues 
 less scrupulous as well as incalculably less capable 
 of estimating the Englisli character. In the re- 
 marks, therefore, which we are about to make on 
 his life and career, it will be our principal object 
 to convey an accurate impression of his personal 
 
 * The additions to this sketch consist principally of personal reminis- 
 cences. A more detailed account of Lord Melbourne's political career, 
 from the able and spirited pen of Sir Henry Bulwer, appeared in the 
 Edinburgh Review, Jan. 1849.
 
 LORD MELBOURNE. 255 
 
 qualities, being convinced that this is the best method 
 of enabling the public to understand and appreciate 
 him. 
 
 He was born on the 18th of March, 1779, and 
 educated at Eton, Glasgow, and Cambridge. Having 
 an elder brother (Peniston, who died in 1805), he 
 was originally intended for the bar, and actually 
 assumed the wio^ and 2:own in 1804. He retained 
 through life a vivid impression of his short forensic 
 career, and a warm interest in the profession ; although 
 his opinion of one branch of it was neither flattering 
 nor just. Speaking of solicitors, he wrote: "All 
 that 1 have ever seen have all the same manner ; 
 hard, cold, incredulous, distrustful, sarcastic,- and 
 sneering. They are accustomed to be conversant with 
 the worst part of human nature, and with the most 
 discreditable transactions. They have so many false- 
 hoods told them, that they place confidence in none." 
 
 His practical pursuit of the law was limited to 
 a single attendance at the Lancashire Sessions in 
 company with the late Lord Abinger, through whose 
 recommendation he received a guinea brief; and he 
 used to say that the first sight of his name upon this 
 document gave him the highest feeling of triumphant 
 satisfaction he ever experienced, very far transcending 
 that which he enjoyed on being appointed Prime 
 ^Minister, His marriage, the death of his elder brother, 
 and his election for Leominster in the year following 
 (1805), led to his speedy abandonment of the law as 
 a profession, and during many years he apparently led 
 a careless, indolent, pococurante life, divided between 
 the gay circles of London and the House of Commons. 
 But it is a great mistake to sui)pose that he was really 
 idle, or that he was under-valued by his contem- 
 poraries, or that the prophecy of his future eminence, 
 like most prophecies of the same description, was not 
 made known till after its fulfilment.
 
 256 LORD MELBOURNE. 
 
 The reputation of idleness might partly arise from 
 the extraordinary quickness with which his mind 
 gatliered and garnered up whatever he deemed 
 w^orthy or necessary to be known. He mastered a 
 difficult subject in half the time which most men 
 (and not ordinary men either) would have required 
 for the purpose. Nor did he disdain any, the sim- 
 plest sources of information. His favourite theory 
 (Sir Walter Scott held the same) was, that there was 
 no man so dull, and no book so trivial, but that 
 something might be learned from them. He said a 
 very excellent book might be made from a mere 
 compilation of the valuable passages in valueless 
 and stupid books. He read novels, and.said that a 
 well written novel, strictly adhering to nature, was 
 in fact " possible memoirs." The want of nature, 
 inconsistency, and exaggeration alone made them 
 worthless. He quoted a humorous sentence from 
 some novel criticising this failing, and saying that 
 readers were kept in perpetual wonder at the incon- 
 sistency of the characters, " the tenderness of the 
 bloodthirsty pirate, and the never dying revenge of the 
 humble Christian." 
 
 As a young man he was already distinguished 
 for grace of composition ; and one of his essays, 
 Avritten while he was a student at Cambridge, was 
 quoted by Fox in one of the very few speeches 
 which he is said to have reduced to writing. In 
 moving for a new writ for Tavistock, on the accession 
 of Lord John Russell to the Dukedom of Bedford, 
 Fox said : " I will conclude with applying to the 
 present occasion a beautiful passage from the speech 
 of a very young orator. It may be thought to savour 
 too much of the sanguine views of youth to stand the 
 test of a rigid philosophical inquiry, but it is at least 
 cheering and consolatory ; and that, in this instance, 
 it may be exemplified is, I am confident, the sincere
 
 LORD MELBOURNE. 257 
 
 wish of every man who hears me. ' Crime,' says he, ' is 
 a curse only to the period in which it is successful ; 
 but virtue, whether fortunate or otherwise, blesses 
 not only its own age, but remotest posterity, and is 
 as beneficial by its example as by its immediate 
 effect.' " * 
 
 Another statesman, not so likely to be influenced 
 in this instance by private feelings, discerned the signs 
 of future eminence many years before they became 
 patent to the world. In the course of a debate on 
 Lord John Russell's annual motion for Reform, in 
 1827, Mr. Hobliouse (now Lord Broughton) had made 
 a powerful speech in favour of it, and a pause ensued, 
 when a member rose at a considerable distance from 
 the Speaker, and made a telling reply of about twenty 
 minutes' duration, every sentence of which was re- 
 ceived with acclamation by the House. A listener in 
 the gallery (the present writer) turned round and 
 asked a reporter (now a distinguished member of the 
 Irish bar) who it was. " That," was the reply, " is 
 William Lamb ; and Lord Castlereagh used to say 
 that he might become Prime Minister, if he -would 
 only shake off his carelessness and set about it." 
 
 His best speeches were delivered in the House of 
 Lords, and some of them had merit of a high order. 
 But sustained flights of eloquence were entirely out of 
 his sphere; not certainly that he was deficient either in 
 feelinsr or imajrination ; but he had a confirmed dislike 
 to display of all sorts, and the rhetorical amplification 
 of a topic was an art to which the peculiar cast of his 
 understanding was instinctively opposed. His excel- 
 lence consisted in telling home-truths, or expressing 
 connnon-sense conclusions, in terse, familiar, and 
 idiomatic language. Nor were his personal advan- 
 tages, without influence in engaging the favour- 
 
 * The extract is from a Prize Essay hij the Hon. W. Lamb, read at 
 Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1798. 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 LORD MELBOURNE. 
 
 able attention of his hearers. His handsome and 
 noble countenance, full of spirit and frankness ; 
 his melodious and resonant voice, and a peculiar 
 manner of familiar and friendly appeal rather than of 
 dictation, " speaking to men, and not at them," no 
 doubt assisted the effect of his speeches. He was 
 listened to with attention, and cheered with hearti- 
 ness. 
 
 Sydney Smith, speaking of Lord ]\Ielbourne's sup- 
 posed indolence, avows a belief that " our Viscount is 
 somewhat of an impostor. Instead of being the 
 ignorant man he pretends to be, before he meets the 
 deputation of tallow chandlers in the morning, he sits 
 up half the night talking with Thomas Young* about 
 melting and skimming, and then, thougli he has 
 acquired knowledge enough to work off a whole vat 
 of prime Leicester tallow, he pretends next morning 
 not to know the difference between a dip and a mould. 
 I, moreover, believe him to be conscientiously alive 
 to the good or evil that he is doing, and that his cau- 
 tion has more than once arrested the gigantic projects 
 of the Lycurgus of the Lower House. I am sorry to 
 hurt any man's feelings, and to brush away the mag- 
 nificent fabric of levity and gaiety he has reared ; but 
 I accuse our Minister of honesty and diligence." 
 
 He not only read a great deal, but (for a man of 
 lettered taste) had no marked aversion to blue-books, 
 although he may not have turned to them by pre- 
 ference. Superior to and incapable of affectation, he 
 thought no one should be expected to know every- 
 thing, and when a subject came before him for the 
 first time he was apt (thinking, as he said, that he 
 could afford it) to reply in the same spirit as Dr. 
 Johnson, when a lady asked him how he came to 
 make a notorious blunder in his Dictionary — " Igno- 
 
 * Lord Melbourne's popular and esteemed private secretary.
 
 LOKD MELBOURNE. 259 
 
 ranee, ma'am, sheer ignorance." But we suspect that 
 Lord Melbourne was indulging in a little comic 
 exaggeration, or a humorous expression of pettish- 
 ness at being teased in behalf of men of science, if 
 (according to a current story), on being pressed to 
 give Mr. Faraday a pension, he pretended to mistake 
 him for an astronomer. The extent and variety of 
 his general and miscellaneous knowledge was beyond 
 dispute. He was not only an excellent classical 
 scholar, fond of translating into English verses 
 passages from the Greek and Latin authors, but he 
 was familiar with all the best English writers, in- 
 cluding the old dramatists, and tolerably versed in 
 the belles lettres of France and Italy. Controversial 
 divinity and Church history were also among his 
 favourite studies. He was particularly strong on the 
 subject of the Galilean Church, and its famous re- 
 sistance to Papal usurpation in 1682, when Bossuet 
 played so prominent a part. He abounded and de- 
 lighted in anecdotes, literary, legal, social, and poli- 
 tical ; and told his favourite stories with a felicity of 
 expression which added to their zest. As a table 
 companion, no wit, diner-out, or conversationist of 
 our day was superior to him : — 
 
 " Seen him I have, and in his happier hour 
 Of social converse, ill-exchanged for power ; 
 Seen him, apart from all the venal tribe, 
 Charm with a smile, and win without a bribe." 
 
 It is difficult, we frankly admit, to emancipate 
 oneself at such times from the prestige of position or 
 the influence of association. To attempt to forget 
 that one's host has been the companion of princes and 
 the first minister of two successive sovereigns, would 
 be to act like Crambo (in " Martinus Scriblerus"), who 
 said he could form an abstract idea of a lord mayor, 
 apart from his gold chain and all the other ensigns of 
 his dignity. But "if such an abstraction were ever 
 
 s ii
 
 2 GO LORD MELBOURNE. 
 
 possible, it would have been with Lord Melbourne. 
 He was so thorough-bred, so essentially a gentleman 
 in the most exalted meaning of the phrase, that the 
 notion of social inferiority or superiority, as resulting 
 from rank, never entered his mind ; and the moment 
 he began to talk he stepped down into the lists, and 
 held his own on equal terms against all comers. 
 Johnson would have described him as he describes 
 Thurlow : " Sir, he is a fine fellow ; he fairly puts his 
 mind to yours." This is just what Lord Melbourne 
 did. He fairly put his mind to yours; but if you had 
 no mind to put or be put to, the sooner you got out 
 of his way the better. He had been induced to ask a 
 literary man to one of his small dinner parties, by 
 hearing that he was well versed in Massinger, with 
 which the gentleman had only a superficial acquain- 
 tance, but was ashamed to own it. " There, now," 
 was Lord Melbourne's comment, " that fellow has been 
 trying for half an hour to make me believe he knows 
 a great deal of what he knows nothing. We won't 
 have him again." 
 
 Pie preferred bold ready talkers when they had 
 anything in them, and defended a lady whom some- 
 body described as too loud and masculine, by saying. 
 " That's what I like her for ; she speaks out." On 
 being told that a distinguished member of the Young 
 England party (the late Lord Strangford) wished to 
 be introduced to him, he exclaimed, with evident 
 satisfaction : " What, do these young fellows want to 
 know me f Bring him to dinner by all means." 
 Lord Strangford's eager yet courteous manner, and 
 rich flow of mind, exercised their ordinary charm; 
 and the meeting proved equally agreeable to both. 
 
 The lighter sayings of Lord Melbourne which 
 dwell upon the memory are remarkable rather for 
 picturesque drollery of expression, comic frankness 
 and suddenness, and sense of fun, than for what is
 
 LOUD MELBOUENE. 261 
 
 commonly called wit ; as when he told an applicant 
 for a subscription that he was not " a subscribing 
 sort of fellow ; " or described a distinguished member 
 of his government as " too cocksure of everything ; " 
 or began a letter to an earl wlio wished to be made 
 
 a marquis, " My dear , how can you be such a 
 
 d — d fool ?" The absurd habit of swearing was almost 
 universal in his younger days. Royal dukes, lord 
 chancellors, chief justices, and Greek professors, were 
 particularly zealous in condemning their own eyes, 
 limbs, and souls, or those of their neighbours, to 
 perdition ; and as regards many of their most charac- 
 teristic sayings, to omit the expletive would be to 
 bring their authenticity into doubt. 
 
 He could hardly be brought to understand the 
 prevalent eagerness for mere titles ; and soon after a 
 list of would-be baronets had been laid before him, 
 he exclaimed, — " I did not know anybody cared any 
 longer about these sorts of things. Now, I have a hold 
 on the fools." AYhen asked why he w^ould not take 
 the Garter, he said, he didn't want to bribe himself. 
 
 Eighteen or twenty years ago, a Right Honourable 
 gentleman, who now holds a conspicuous position be- 
 fore the world, was known only by a clever novel and 
 a calculated assumption of superiority. He had re- 
 cently returned from the East, when he was asked 
 to dinner to meet Lord ^Melbourne, who good- 
 naturedly turned the conversation on the manners 
 and customs of the countries recently visited by this 
 gentleman. " Your Lordship," was his polite ac- 
 knowledgment for this civility, " appears to have 
 derived all your notions of Oriental matters from the 
 Arabian Nights' Entertainments." "And a devilish 
 good place to get them from," rejoined Lord j\Iel- 
 bourne, rubbing his hands and laughing. 
 
 One morning at Brocket, Lord Melbourne received, 
 and read aloud, a note asking permission for a neigh-
 
 262 LORD MELBOURNE. 
 
 bour and "a friend" to fish in the park. "A friend ! 
 I don't hke that anonymous friend, who is sure to 
 turn out the greatest fisher in the country. I had 
 rather be asked leave for an otter than an unnamed 
 friend." 
 
 Pitt, according to Wilberforce, declared late in 
 life that his lonsr tenure of office had made him 
 think better of mankind. Lord Melbourne, according 
 to Sir Henry Bulwer, arrived at the same conclusion 
 as Pitt. If this were so, they must each have started 
 with a low estimate of their species. Burke (as 
 reported by Bos well) only goes the length of saying 
 that, in the course of his long experience, he had 
 found more impulsive goodness, and less- principle, 
 than he had anticipated. 
 
 Lord Melbourne used to dwell on Horace Walpole's 
 reflection : " To those who think, life is a comedy, — to 
 those who feel, a tragedy." Talking of the effects of 
 advancing years, he humorously repeated Lord Car- 
 hampton's comment on the Archbishop of Armagh's 
 remark that " his legs carried him as well as when 
 he was a young man." " Ay, my Lord, but not to 
 the same places." With more dignity and gravity, 
 but in the same sense, he was fond of quoting these 
 lines, by a once popular author : — 
 
 "Walk sober off, — before a sprightlier age 
 Come tittering on, and shove you from the stage ! " 
 
 Among the few specimens of his poetry preserved 
 among his friends, is the paraphrase of four lines 
 in Horace's " Epistle to MjBcenas : " — 
 
 " 'Tis late, and I must haste away, 
 My usual hour of rest is near — 
 And do you press me, youths, to stay — 
 To stay and revel longer here ? 
 
 Then give me back the scorn of care 
 Which spirits light in health allow. 
 And give me back the dark brown Jiair 
 Which curled upon my even brow. 
 
 «
 
 LORD MELBOURNE. 263 
 
 And give me back the sportive jest 
 Which once could midnight hours beguile ; 
 The life, that bounded in my breast, 
 And joyous youth's becoming smile: 
 
 And give me back the fervid soul 
 Which love inflamed with strange delight, 
 When erst I sorrow'd o'er the bowl 
 At Chloe's coy and wanton flight. 
 
 'Tis late, and I must haste away. 
 My usual hour of rest is near — 
 But give me these, and I will stay — 
 Will stay till noon and revel here ! " 
 
 Lord Melbourne was the author of the " Epistle to 
 the Editors of the Antijacobin," to which Canning 
 replied, beginning thus : — 
 
 "Bard of the borrow'd lyre! to whom belong 
 The shreds and remnants of each hackney'd song : 
 Whose verse thy friends in vain for wit explore, 
 And count but one good line in eighty-four ! " 
 
 The one good line was the second of this couplet: — 
 
 " By Morpeth's gait, important, proud, and big ; 
 By Leveson Gower's crop-imitating wig." 
 
 His quiet manner, his terseness of expression, his 
 self-possession, and his knowledge of mankind, enabled 
 him to get over difficulties in his ministerial career 
 which more than one of his colleagues would have 
 converted into serious dangers. Thus, instead of 
 obstructing the procession of The Trades Union in 
 1834, and thereby risking a tumult, he quietly watched 
 it from the window of his official residence, and seeing 
 no tendency towards a resort to force, let it pass. 
 
 The circumstances were tliese. They determined 
 to awe the government by a demonstration of physical 
 force, and announced that 100,000 men would march 
 to the Home Office with a petition to the King ; and 
 30,000 men actually did march through the streets 
 in military array. Lord Melbourne declined to act 
 on the advice pressed upon him from many quarters 
 
 s 4
 
 264 LORD MELBOURNE. 
 
 to stop them. But when the leaders brought the 
 petition to the door of the Home Office, he declined 
 to receive it, and simply informed them, through the 
 Under-Secretary, that they would be held responsible 
 for any disorder that might ensue. Failing to frighten 
 the minister, they became frightened themselves, and 
 begged leave to go off with the petition by the back- 
 door, so that their followers might not discover the 
 rebuff they had received. As the mob could find 
 no policemen or soldiers to quarrel with, they had 
 nothing to do but to disperse at their leisure ; and 
 under this bold and quiet treatment the danger 
 evaporated. 
 
 It was on this occasion that a few stragglers ad- 
 vanced towards the sentinel in Downing Street, 
 shouting " Liberty or Death." "I don't know much 
 about Liberty," said the man, making ready his 
 piece ; " but if you don't stand back, I'll soon sliow 
 some of you what Death means." 
 
 Lord Melbourne's conduct on this occasion is one 
 amongst many instances that could be adduced of his 
 moral courage, temper, and self-command. 
 
 " Persons being sulky," he would say, " doesn't 
 matter, .when they take themselves off; you should 
 take oare to give people who are cross, time to come 
 roundo Peel's fault in that business when he failed 
 to form a government (1839) wa.s not giving the 
 Queen time to come round." 
 
 Again : — " We should never give way to the 
 conviction which, in discussion, is frequently forced 
 upon men's minds, that something must be done. 
 During the attacks on the Church after the Reform 
 Bill, Sydney Smith was so alarmed that he cried out, 
 ' Something must be done,' and wished for a Com- 
 mission to be issued to reform the Church. Dr. 
 Arnold felt that the measures he recommended in his 
 pamphlet were injudicious and undesirable ; but he
 
 LORD MELBOURNE. 265 
 
 proposed them because he felt ' something must be 
 done.' Newman, believing that it would not do to 
 leave the Church system as it was, started the Anglo- 
 Catholic theory, mainly because he also was convinced 
 that ' something must be done.' Oh, a little tran- 
 quillity is a fine thing." 
 
 Such was the man on whom devolved the mo- 
 mentous duty of counselling and (in some sense) 
 forming a young female sovereign at the outset of her 
 reign ; and since there is no denying that the object of 
 his more than paternal solicitude has, in point of fact, 
 become the beloved and enlightened ruler of a great 
 empire, Ave can hardly err in attributing a fair share 
 of the honour of such a result to her first Prime 
 Minister. Not the least interesting of the anecdotes 
 of her earlier reign, is that which records his reading 
 to the young and inexperienced sovereign those verses 
 from the First Book of Kings, where the youthful 
 Solomon, being asked by God in a dream what 
 gift he will desire, asks not " long life, nor riches, 
 nor the lives of his enemies,''^ but " an understanding 
 heart to judge thy people, that I may discern between 
 good and bad.^^ 
 
 Nor must Lord Melbourne's disinterestedness, his 
 perfect negation of self, be forgotten. Like his im- 
 mediate successor (to whom the same flattering con- 
 fidence was graciously accorded), he declined every 
 mark of royal favour for himself, although a higher 
 step in the Peerage and the Garter were more than 
 once pressed upon him. 
 
 An incident, handed down by court tradition, may 
 serve to illustrate the simplicity of his demeanour, 
 and the playful affability that sometimes relaxes the 
 enforced stiffness of etiquette. He had a trick of 
 carrying papers as well as money in his breeches 
 ])ockets. On pulling out a document to lay before 
 Her Majesty, a quantity of silver coins followed it ;
 
 266 LORD MELBOURNE. 
 
 and in a moment the Prime Minister was seen 
 chasing his shillings and sixpences round the room. 
 At his next audience, the Queen formally presented 
 him with a small paper parcel, saying that she had 
 great pleasure in restoring a portion of his missing 
 property. The parcel contained two shillings and a 
 sixpence. 
 
 If Lord Melbourne had acted on his own judgment, 
 he would not have resumed the government after his 
 resignation in 1839, and he would thereby have 
 avoided more than one compromise, which will be 
 condemned by posterity. It were also to be wished 
 that he had not assented to the Whig budget of 
 1841, after having so recently declared- that any 
 minister who tampered with the Corn Laws must be 
 mad. On the breaking-up of a Cabinet dinner at his 
 house in South Street, at which the proposed reduc- 
 tion of duties had been settled, he hurried to the 
 door and called to the retreating guests, " Stop a 
 minute, let's be all of one mind. Is it to lower the 
 price of bread, or is it not ? " — a point, by the way, 
 on which the Political Economy Club was then far 
 from unanimous. 
 
 His apology for retaining office in 1839 was his 
 unwillingness to blight the prospects of his followers ; 
 " I counted up more than two hundred of my inti- 
 mate acquaintance, or their families, who would 
 have been half ruined and heartbroken by my going 
 out." We much prefer his vindication of the course 
 he took in supporting parliamentary reform, which 
 he had so long opposed. The substance of his de- 
 fence was that the state of public opinion touching 
 any given measure is the true test for deciding on its 
 expediency, and that we must not risk a revolution 
 for consistency's sake. So far we quite agree with 
 him. We must no longer insist on self-sufficing, 
 autocratic, or heaven-born ministers. We shrink
 
 LORD MELBOURNE. 267 
 
 instinctively from the beau ideal of a statesman, whose 
 greatness is to consist in his strength of will or his 
 originality. An Alberoni, or a Richelieu, obliged to 
 obtain majorities in the House of Commons, would 
 be like Gulliver tied down by a multiplicity of threads 
 — and wild work he would make of it if he broke 
 through them. Lord Chatham, again, was invaluable 
 for a War Minister. But the great measures to be 
 projected, arranged, and then carried by an English, 
 statesman, almost all relate to internal legislation; 
 the people must be prepared (in some instances, 
 educated) for their reception ; and we should be 
 puzzled to name any comprehensive one that has 
 been completed in our time until most of its early 
 advocates were in their graves. Sheridan used to say 
 that a measure proposed and carried within one gene- 
 ration, was quickly carried. 
 
 What, then, is the paramount excellence of a mi- 
 nister under our sj^stem of Government? Surely the 
 power of determining the precise period when the 
 people are ripe for any given change. The evils 
 of procrastination in such a contingency are ob- 
 vious enough, but it may be equally dangerous to 
 anticipate ; for, if a reaction should be the result, 
 the progress of improvement might be indefinitely 
 delayed. Suppose free-trade principles had been 
 practically carried out twenty years ago, before men's 
 minds were familiar with their real mode of working, 
 — can any one doubt that the first unfavourable 
 season at home, or the first check to international 
 barter from adventitious causes abroad, might have 
 compelled a reversal of that very commercial policy 
 witli which the nation is now perfectly satisfied ? 
 
 There arose a very strong and sustained reaction 
 against the Reform Bill, mainly owing to the in- 
 defensible machinery used in carrying it ; and that 
 reaction would have proved still more formidable had
 
 2G8 LORD ilELBOUIlNE. 
 
 not the means employed or proposed for inflaming 
 one of the conflicting parties and intimidating the 
 other, been steadily discountenanced by Lord Grey's 
 Home Secretary. Then, how happens it that Lord 
 Melbourne and the late Sir Robert Peel, each twice 
 guilty of analogous inconsistencies, should have met 
 with such widely different measures of justice ? — the 
 one rejected, denounced, and vilified by his party, 
 the otlier retaining the unshaken confidence of Ids ? 
 The solution may possibly be found in their difference 
 of manner. A dash of Lord Melbourne's fascinatins: 
 indiscretion would have been invaluable to the more 
 sedate and cautious statesman. If Sir Robert Peel 
 had gone about in November, 1845, amongst the 
 influential country gentlemen, and stated the diffi- 
 culties he felt in acting up to their expectations, very 
 few, if any, would have sanctioned a factious com- 
 bination to run him down. On the other hand. Lord 
 Melbourne's laxer and pleasanter mode of dealing with 
 state affairs occasionally exposed him to grave cen- 
 sure for alleo'ed want of earnestness. When, how- 
 ever, the Muse of History shall proceed to sum up 
 his character, she may confidently inscribe his name 
 on her tablets as a man who was the object of un- 
 feiG:ned esteem and enthusiastic admiration to his 
 friends, and as a statesmafi of whose talents, straight- 
 forwardness, generosity, and refinement (whatever 
 may be thought of his policy) the present and every 
 succeeding generation of Englishmen must feel proud.
 
 269 
 
 GENERAL VON RADOWITZ. 
 
 (From the Morning Chronicle, Dec. 31, 1853.)* 
 
 The recent death of General von Radowitz, at the 
 age of fifty-six, after a prolonged illness, may well be 
 deemed an event of no mean significance in the pre- 
 sent crisis of Continental affairs; for his personal 
 influence with his royal friend and master remained 
 unshaken to the last, and the object which he had 
 most thoroughly at heart was how to unite Ger- 
 many under constitutional forms of government, and 
 then to interpose her as an insurmountable barrier 
 airainst the threatened encroachments of Northern 
 despotism. There is no saying how much real and 
 lastino: o'ood might have been effected throuoh his 
 
 CD D O ~ 
 
 instrumentality, had life and health been spared to 
 him. Indeed, the same persons who, in 1850, spoke 
 and wrote of him as a theorist or a dreamer, are now 
 forced to acknowledge that, if the season he chose for 
 his grand effort was unpropitious, and if the resources 
 at his command were inadequate, still his views were 
 noble, generous, compreliensive, and sound in the 
 main — above all, that they were based on an accu- 
 rate appreciation of the true interests of his country- 
 men, and tended to exalt and dignify the position of 
 their common Fatherland. 
 
 His career must be reu:arded as strano^e and ro- 
 mantic, even in an age which has witnessed so many 
 extraordinary reverses of fortune and of fame. Pass- 
 ing over his boyhood, we find him in 1812, when 
 
 * The date is material. We were then driftinjr into the war with 
 Russia, and the King of Prussia was keeping all Europe in suspense by 
 his vru'illation.
 
 270 GENERAL VON RADOWITZ. 
 
 he was between fifteen and sixteen years of age, a 
 Westphalian officer of artillery ; and he commanded 
 a battery at the battle of Leipsic, where he was 
 severely wounded and taken prisoner. He had al- 
 ready received the riband of the Legion of Honour 
 for his services in the early part of that campaign. 
 In times when kingdoms w^ere annually made and 
 unmade at the bidding of a successful soldier, to 
 have chan2;ed sides or cockades in the universal melee 
 can hardly be made the foundation of a serious charge 
 against a young subaltern, who went with the crowd, 
 and who had no individual motive in combatins; for 
 or against the rulers to whom his allegiance may 
 have been alternately transferred. It WQuld be ab- 
 surd, therefore, to draw any unfavourable inference 
 from the fact that, after the dissolution of the king- 
 dom of Westphalia, Radowitz entered the Hessian 
 artillery, and served against France in the ensuing 
 campaign. At the conclusion of the war, being then 
 only eighteen, he was appointed first teacher of ma- 
 thematics and the military art at Cassel ; and in 1823 
 he had risen to the rank of captain, and was attached 
 to the Electoral Court as military and mathematical 
 teacher of the heir apparent. This was the turning 
 point of his destiny ; and his conduct at this period, 
 under very trying circumstances, may be cited as an 
 unanswerable proof of the fine sense of honour, the 
 moral courage, and the lofty independence of character 
 which never left him, and wanting which, no royal 
 favourite ever yet preserved national confidence, or 
 his own self esteem, or the elevating and inspiring 
 hope of contributing to the well-being of his fellow- 
 citizens and of mankind. 
 
 The incidents to which we allude may be briefly 
 told. The Elector of Hesse, who was married to the 
 sister of William III. of Prussia, peremptorily in- 
 sisted that his mistress, Emily Ortlopp, on whom he 
 
 I
 
 GENEEAL VON RADOWITZ. 271 
 
 had bestowed the title of countess, should receive 
 some mark of personal recognition or attention from 
 his royal consort. The Electress consulted Radowitz, 
 who boldly advised her not to submit to the degrada- 
 tion. One of his letters on this delicate topic fell 
 into the Elector's hands, and he instantly became a 
 marked and ruined man so long as he remained in 
 Hesse. He repaired to Berlin, where the sacrifices 
 he had incurred in the cause of truth and honour for 
 a daughter of Prussia, naturally formed a very high 
 recommendation. He was immediately indemnified, 
 so far as military rank and employment were con- 
 cerned, by receiving exact equivalents in the l^rus- 
 sian service for what he had lost; and — what was of 
 incalculably higher moment, as giving him the re- 
 quired opportunity for the practical application of his 
 vast treasures of thought and knowledge — he very 
 soon became the most intimate and trusted friend of 
 the heir apparent, the present King, of whose mili- 
 tary and mathematical education he had the charge. 
 
 But Radowitz could hold his own a2:ainst the most 
 formidable rivals or antagonists, without any aid 
 from the prestige of Court favour. His principles 
 in government and legislation were Liberal-Conserva- 
 tive. ]\Jaking, of course, ample allowance for the 
 difference between German institutions and modes of 
 thought and our own, we should say that the nearest 
 parallel to his political views might be found in 
 the rational, moderate, and thoughtful English creed 
 which foolish people think to stigmatise by desig- 
 nating it as " Peelite." With a pardonable leaning 
 towards what had stood the test of long experience, 
 he refused to be bound by mere names, cries, or 
 watcliwords ; and he was one of that sound and safe 
 school of reformers who adopt uncliecked discussion 
 as their crucible, and enlightened public opinion as 
 their test. When, under the influence of the French
 
 272 GENERAL VON RADOWITZ. 
 
 Revolution of 1848, Prussia was hurrying beyond the 
 bounds of regulated and tempered liberty, he threw 
 up the whole of his appointments (including his em- 
 bassy at Carlsruhe) rather than aid in the dangerous 
 development and extension of democracy ; and he 
 soon afterwards took his seat in the Frankfort Par- 
 liament, as the foremost and most eminent champion 
 of " Constitutionalism." 
 
 His appearance and position there are graphically 
 sketched by one of the most violent of his oppo- 
 nents, tlie revolutionary poet, Alfred Meissner, whose 
 youthful and innocent appearance, contrasted with 
 his glorifications of the guillotine, had earned him 
 the sobriquet of " The Blood-red Dove" :-^ 
 
 *' Three individualities stand promuiently forward — the 
 three capacities of the nobihty, a resume of its three great 
 categories. I mean Herr von Kadowitz, Herr von Vincke, 
 and Prince Lichnovvsky. Of these three^ Herr von Eadowitz 
 incontestably ranks first. He is the head and the brain of 
 the party of reactionary ideas, and which is audaciously con- 
 tinually arming against a movement that has already de- 
 prived it of so much, and would annihilate it if it took one 
 step more in advance. But what else could be expected ? 
 The man who has devoted the energies of a whole life to the 
 service of Absolutism, cannot in a day become the partisan 
 of a Constitutional system. If Herr von Radowitz — the 
 friend of Louis Philippe, the pupil of the Jesuits, who con- 
 spired with Guizot and Metternich for the suppression of the 
 Swiss Confederacy, and afterwards endeavoured to excite 
 Russia, Prussia, and Austria to a war against the French 
 Republic — now enters the lists as a champion for Constitu- 
 tionalism, I only the more believe in his dark machinations, 
 and endeavour to trace them in the furrows on his brow and 
 in the marked lines of his countenance. There he sits, as 
 characteristic a head as ever stepped forth from the canvas of 
 Velasquez, the very portrait of a warrior-monk. His face 
 of a pale yellow hue, his grey liair, his jaundiced eye, his 
 compressed lips concealed by a dark moustache, his sinister 
 glance, always directed on the paper before him; — the whole
 
 GENERAL VOX KADOWITZ. 273 
 
 of his outward man has something imposing in it. He is no 
 orator, yet all his speeches tell forcibly. On his seat he is 
 silent as the grave; — he sits and broods, except when an 
 important vote takes place ; then he looks eagerly around 
 him, and like a general gives the word to ' remain seated ' or 
 to 'rise,' as the case may be. They obey like soldiers." 
 
 A less prejudiced critic describes the General as 
 not merely an effective but a popular speaker, " inas- 
 much as whilst he took part against the Poles, the 
 Italians, and the further progress of the revolutionary 
 movement, he never wounded the national feelings of 
 the majority, and always strove to apply and realise 
 the popular tendencies of the day." Meissner says 
 that Radowitz was no orator ; but this (as is clear 
 from the context) must mean merely that eloquence 
 was not his highest merit, for his powers of oratory 
 were indubitably of a very high order. In April, 1849, 
 he was recalled to Berlin, to be entrusted with the 
 chief conduct of affairs, both at home and abroad, 
 and he was named (by special ordinance) Lieutenant- 
 General. On him devolved the task of explaining 
 the new policy and the constitutional doctrines which 
 the King of Prussia was anxious to carry out ; and 
 on the 25th of August, 1849, he fully developed these 
 in the Second Prussian Chamber at Berlin. The fol- 
 lowing description of him on this occasion is also 
 from the pen of an adversary, a distinguished member 
 of the Extreme Rijrht : — 
 
 o 
 
 " The heat was overpowering, the galleries filled to every 
 corner, even the Court box; and in the places reserved for 
 the corps diplomatique, the ambassadors of the highest rank 
 stood upright against the wall, the perspiration pouring uff 
 tl)eir faces. A few unimportant generalities excited impa- 
 tience, until Herr von Radowitz, dressed in a black tail-coat 
 and black cravat, left his place behind that of Count Bran- 
 denburg, and advanced quietly amidst death-like silence to 
 the tribune. His head is remarkably fine. His forehead 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 GENEKAL VON llADOWITZ. 
 
 goes far back on the skull, between locks of stiff grey hair ; 
 his profile is of Grecian regularity, broken only by a pro- 
 minent under lip, which is concealed, however, by his mous- 
 tache. The general pallor of his countenance enhances the 
 brilliancy of his dark brown eyes. His carriage is that of a 
 man of sixty, and, to a painter's eye, does not respond to the 
 head. The tone of his voice is deep and earnest, and lends 
 itself easily to the required intonation of his discourse. His 
 delivery was slow and distinct, aided by gesticulations of the 
 right arm, which never outstepped the limits of dignity. The 
 orator had a small manuscript before him, which served as a 
 prompter to his astonishing memory, without ever interrupt- 
 ing the smooth flow of his language ; every word was clear 
 and precise, without hesitation or correction ; never too much 
 nor too little, but always to the point, for the impression he 
 desired to make. At the conclusion of the speech the ap- 
 plause knew no bounds ; the enthusiasm was such as the 
 Huno-arians felt when Maria Theresa presented herself to 
 them. The moriamur pro trihus nostris regibus was written 
 upon every countenance. If the orator could have com- 
 manded a hearing amidst the clapping of 2000 hands, he 
 might have demanded anything, millions, from the Chamber, 
 — it would have been immediately accorded. The Right and ' 
 the Left, the Centre and the First Chamber applauded to- 
 gether. The galleries clapped lustily ; it was only in the 
 diplomatic ranks that we observed hands which knew well 
 how to applaud Fanny Cerito abstain from giving any sign 
 of applause. Chacun a son gout^ 
 
 The half-mocking tone of this description rather 
 confirms than weakens it ; and it might be corro- 
 borated by a host of contemporary witnesses. He is 
 no common man of whom adversaries write in this 
 fashion. 
 
 From this period until the memorable struggle 
 with Austria in November, 1850, — which ended in his 
 final retirement from the political arena, — he filled, 
 as Secretary for Foreign Affairs, the same relative 
 position which was occupied by Chatham with the 
 Duke of Newcastle for his nominal chief. To the
 
 GENERAL VON KADOWITZ. 275 
 
 world at large, and in the eyes of history, Radowitz 
 was virtually Prime Minister of Prussia during the 
 whole of that exciting epoch, when the two mighty 
 rivals were on the point of bringing their cliums to 
 the arbitration of a pitched battle, with the rest of 
 Europe for spectators, and the dictatorship of Ger- 
 many for the prize. 
 
 We have no space for particulars, but it may be 
 as well to state that it was the menacino- attitude 
 of Russia in the background, not fear of the results 
 of a single-handed conflict with Austria, that induced 
 Prussia to recede ; and we may add that Lord 
 Palmerston, in the course which he pursued on this 
 occasion, instead of sustaining his mythical continen- 
 tal reputation, and tilting Quixot-like against the 
 giants (or windmills) of absolutism, — appears to 
 have been exclusively guided by broad considerations 
 of expediency, and to have acted with coolness, 
 caution, and sagacity. 
 
 It will be remembered that the people of Hesse 
 Cassel, from the highest to the lowest, from the 
 professor to the peasant, had risen as one man 
 against their government, and expelled their minister, 
 the main source of their discontent. Austria sided 
 with the oppressors, and Prussia with the oppressed. 
 Constitutionalism and absolutism were on the point 
 of coming to a fair stand-up fight, when the Ca- 
 binet of Berlin lost heart : the war party was out- 
 voted, and the Hessians were compelled to take back 
 their detested Ilassenphlug. Immediately after his 
 defeat and retirement, Radowitz came to England, 
 and a considerable sensation was produced by his 
 reception at Windsor Castle, which he visited two 
 or three times by special invitation. He told the 
 writer that all he needed in the crisis was the moral 
 support of England. Even an expression of opinion, 
 or a sign of sympathy, would have sufficed ; but no 
 
 T 2
 
 276 GENERAL VON llADOWITZ. 
 
 sign was given, and he fell. That the English 
 nation wished well to his cause, was notorious ; 
 but surely if Lord Palmerston had intervened offici- 
 ally in the affairs of Central Germany, he would have 
 justified the strongest censure that ever was directed 
 against the " turbulent and aggressive " policy im- 
 puted to him. 
 
 In 1826, General von Radowitz was married to 
 Marie, 7iee Comtesse de Voss, — a beautiful, amiable, 
 and accompUshed woman, who survives him. He 
 was the idol of his family, and of his private circle, 
 which was of the most intellectual kind, and the 
 conversations which took place in it are supposed to 
 have laid the foundation of the most remarkable 
 of his publications, — " Gesprdclieaus der Gegenwart 
 ilber Staat und Kir die " ( Conversations arising out of 
 the Present on State and Church). 
 
 In this work the leading sects or parties into which 
 the political and religious speculators of Germany 
 were divided, are each represented. Arneburg, an 
 officer of noble birth, a strictly orthodox Lutheran, 
 with strongly pronounced pietistic (the word is un- 
 translatable) and legitimist sympathies, is divided 
 between his religious feelings and his admiration for 
 the middle ages. Detlev, his brother, is a democrat 
 and pantheist, with a touch of Socialism. Grusius, 
 a rich manufacturer, stands for the Liberal bour- 
 geoisie. Oeder, the man of the old bureaucracy and 
 "practical" statesmansliip, is a religious ^'indif- 
 ferent." Waldheim (who commonly speaks the 
 opinions of the author) is a Catholic deeply attached 
 to the Church, and inclining to the historical school 
 in government and legislation. Such a work could 
 not be appreciated without an intimate acquaintance 
 with terms and notions to which we have hardly 
 anything analogous in England. All who are capable 
 of estimating it agree that it is a production mani-
 
 GENERAL VON RADOWITZ. 277 
 
 festing both depth and precision of thought, elevated 
 feelings, great command of language, and an almost 
 prophetic sagacity. It was first given to the public 
 in 1846, but it contains passages which read as if 
 they had been written in 1850, so exactly do they 
 indicate the tendencies and foreshadow the events 
 which have come to light or occurred since February, 
 1848. 
 
 Although he did not speak English, the impression 
 left by his conversational powers, in the literary, 
 fashionable, and political world of London, was highly 
 favourable. His knowledge seemed universal, and 
 his memory inexhaustible. In him, a masculine 
 strenofth of understandinfy was blended with femi- 
 nine delicacy of perception and tenderness of feeling ; 
 and his flow of earnest thought was alternately en- 
 livened by fancy or softened by sentiment, in a 
 manner to exercise as marked an influence on the 
 higher order of women as on men. 
 
 His miscellaneous writings are numerous, and his 
 literary pursuits having been invidiously mentioned 
 to account for his assumed failure in state-craft, it 
 was replied, in a brief biographical notice of him 
 which appeared in our columns on January 2, 1851, 
 that Metternich, although guiltless of a book, had 
 been equally unfortunate towards the end of his 
 career, and that it is no easy task to decide how far 
 the mishaps of a Guizot, or a Radowitz, are attri- 
 butable to circumstances which they could neither 
 control nor foresee. In a letter addressed to the 
 writer the day following, Radowitz, then in London, 
 writes thus : — 
 
 " Ces reflexions avec lesquelles vous finissez votre 
 article, sont a trcs peu pres les menies qui se sont 
 presentes a moi lors de la revue retrospective que 
 j'ai faite le dernier jour de Tan. J'ai dii en faire 
 une application toute personnelle. Tiiste du mal 
 
 T 3
 
 278 GENERAL VON RADOWITZ. 
 
 que je prdvois, impuissant pour le bien que je desire, 
 je voudrais finir par un peu de repos une vie que je 
 n'ai point epargnee, mais que je n'ai pu rendre utile. 
 Ces temps actiiels sont difficiles — je dois dire plus^ Us 
 sont impossibles. ''^ 
 
 It is much to be feared that the train of feeling 
 to which he thus gave vent was something more 
 than the transient emanation of a melancholy hour 
 — that^ too frequently indulged, it weighed upon his 
 spirits, undermined his strength, and rendered him 
 powerless to bear up against the illness which ter- 
 minated in his death. Yet how true are the con- 
 cluding reflections, and how precisely applicable to 
 the times in which we are still living, qn the eve 
 of a "happy new year!" Bring all the wisest 
 statesmen of Europe together in one room, and is 
 there one of them who would not be tempted to 
 exclaim, with Radowitz, against the difficulty, if not 
 impossibility, of any safe, honourable, and speedy 
 extrication from the present world-wide entangle- 
 ment of cross purposes and crooked answers, — this 
 mischievous product of criminal ambition, misplaced 
 confidence, factious intrigue, blind prejudice, and 
 blundering diplomacy ? Then what is the obvious 
 moral ? Surely, that candour and forbearance are 
 more needed than carping ingenuity — that it is 
 better to provide effectively for the future than to 
 dwell invidiously upon the past. 
 
 We must not close this brief notice of a very 
 remarkable man without alluding to one quality, 
 in which he shone preeminent: the fervid, simple, 
 unwavering piety, which guided his life and cheered 
 his death-bed. So much doubt exists as to the 
 degree of religious faith common in superior men 
 of the world, that it is cheering to point to this 
 instance among many, that the duties and struggles 
 of active life are not adverse to the maintenance of
 
 GENERAL VON RADOWITZ. 279 
 
 such a faith in its purest form. " God's will be 
 done" — which so often seems merely the cry of 
 submissive grief or conscious debility — of a broken 
 heart or a flickerino; intellect — was the motto of 
 Radowitz's life ; and, could we venture to lift the 
 holy veil that shadows the picture of his last hours 
 alone with a devoted wife, we might repeat here how, 
 alluding to the constant exercise of his fine intellect 
 in " search of deep philosophy " and all earthly 
 science, and his consciousness of superiority in those 
 respects, he nevertheless declared that all was 
 " nothing in comparison of religion, of the faith in 
 Christ Jesus," in which he died. 
 
 T 4
 
 280 
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. 
 
 (Fkom the Edinburgh Review, Jan., 1844.) 
 
 1. Aus der Geselhchaft, Novelle. Von (From Society, a 
 
 Novel, by) Ida, Grafin (Countess) Hahn-Haun. 
 8vo. Berlin: 1838. 
 
 2. Der Rechte, (The Right One.) Von Ida, Grafin Hahn- 
 
 Hahn. 8vo. Berlin: 1839. 
 
 3. Grafin Faustine. Von Ida, Grafin Hahn-Hahn. 8vo. 
 
 Berlin; 1840. 
 
 4. Ulrich. Von Ida, Grafin Hahn-Hahn. 2 vols. 8vo. 
 
 Berlin: 1841. 
 
 5. Sigismund Forster. Von Ida, Grafin Hahn-Haon. 
 
 8vo. Berlin: 1843. 
 
 6. Cecil. Von Ida, Grafin Hahn-Hahn. 2 vols. 8vo. 
 
 Berlin: 1843. 
 
 It is a remarkable fact, that, out of the fourteen or 
 fifteen thousand living authors of Germany, not one 
 (if we except Tieck, who belongs to the last genera- 
 tion) has obtained anything approaching to an Euro- 
 pean reputation, or given decided proofs of originality, 
 as a novelist. Rich in historians, fertile in critics, 
 abounding in metaphysicians, and overflowing with 
 thinkers, or gentlemen who think that they are think- 
 ing, the whole Confederation has proved, during the 
 last quarter of a century, utterly unable to produce 
 a prose writer of fiction, who does not turn out, on 
 nice inspection, to be an imitator ; — to have belonged, 
 from his or her first conception, to some one of the 
 established schools, historical, metaphysical, or ro- 
 mantic ; and kept constantly though unconsciously 
 in mind, some one of the great masters or master-
 
 THE COUNTESS IIAIIN-IIAHN. 281 
 
 pieces — in nine cases out of ten Scott or Goethe — 
 " Wilhelm Meister " or " Waverley." At last, how- 
 ever, we have found one who draws exclusively on 
 her own resources, rises proudly superior to authority, 
 holds on her course in entire disregard or forgetful- 
 ness as well of the examples set by her predecessors 
 as of the rules laid down by her contemporaries ; 
 and, as may be guessed, is utterly unlike all or any 
 of her countrymen or countrywomen, who, to our 
 knowledge, have hitherto risked themselves in print. 
 
 Ida, Countess Hahn-Hahn, is, both by birth and 
 marriage, a member of the Mecklenburg family of 
 Hahn, which begins with a distinguished founder in 
 the dark ages, and boasts nine or ten centuries of 
 unsullied nobility. When very young, she married 
 her cousin, but was divorced soon afterwards, on her 
 own application, on the ground of alleged infidelity 
 on the part of the husband. She has lived a good 
 deal in most of the German capitals — mixing chiefly 
 with the class to which she naturally belongs ; and 
 she has visited most of the principal countries of 
 Europe, in company with the attached friend to 
 whom " Faustine " is dedicated. She has one child, 
 a girl of fifteen or sixteen. She herself is about 
 five-and-thirty, or a little more. Two or three years 
 ago she had the misfortune to lose an eye, through 
 (as she asserts in her " Reisebriefe ") the ignorance 
 or inattention of the operator. The leading events 
 of her life are mentioned, because her style of thought 
 is palpably modified by them ; and because her indi- 
 viduality, so to speak, is constantly presented to the 
 mind of the reader, though without the ordinary re- 
 pelling effect of egotism. 
 
 Madame Ilahn-Hahn is already the author of six 
 novels, three books of travels, and a little dramatic 
 poem which she is pleased to call an " Arabesque." 
 It is our present purpose to consider her exclusively
 
 282 THE COUNTESS nAIIN-IIAIIN. 
 
 as a novelist ; but we must begin by apologising for 
 the term. 
 
 Towards 'the end of her second work, she com- 
 plains that the word novelle was added by the pub- 
 lisher, without her leave, to the title-page of her first. 
 "As I write no novels, 1 do not choose to usurp the 
 title, and this book must try to make its way without 
 it. I hope it will not be valued the less on that 
 account, for I do not make the disclaimer out of 
 modesty." If this be so, we are unable to guess why 
 she disclaims at all ; fop the only peculiarity which 
 distinguishes such a book as " Aus der Gesellschaft," 
 or " Der Kechte," from the ordinary run of novels 
 (always excepting their intrinsic merit), is the com- 
 parative carelessness of the writer regarding plot, 
 which is hardly a subject of self-congratulation. But 
 we will not quarrel with the lady about a word ; 
 there strikes us to be as much action (unity of ac- 
 tion, too) and as studied, careful, complete develop- 
 ment of character in her best fictions, as in many 
 whose title to be called novels no one ever dreamed 
 of questioning ; but undoubtedly it will be most 
 favourable to her, and equally agreeable to us, to 
 •consider them as a series of studies on the feelings ; 
 or a succession of characters and situations illus- 
 trative of the great problems of domestic life — its 
 pains, pleasures, mutability, discontent — the way- 
 wardness of the affections, the inconstancy of the 
 imagination, the insufficiency of all things human to 
 satisfy the eternal cravings of the heart. Considered 
 in this point of view, it would be difficult to form an 
 undue estimate of their merit ; so well chosen, and 
 at the same time so varied, are both scenes and actors. 
 In one of her single volume books, there are seldom 
 less than four or five sets of people making each 
 other happy or miserable, yet no two of them bring 
 about the proposed result in the same manner. As
 
 THE COUNTESS HATIN-nAIIN. 283 
 
 for heroes and heroines, she can hardly be said to 
 have any; and she has so little turn for melodramatic 
 display, that it is only when the story is drawing to 
 a conclusion, and some show of unity is imperatively 
 required, that she places her men and women in 
 marked contrast, or attempts to throw them into 
 groups. They talk more than they act, and feel 
 more than they talk ; for her strength consists in 
 tracing the influence of time, place, and circumstance 
 upon the heart. She delights to combat the notion 
 that the affections can be subjected to the will, and 
 is never more at home than when expounding the 
 rationale of change, or suggesting excuses for incon- 
 stancy. 
 
 The scenes are laid in the higher orders of society, 
 and almost all her characters, with the exception of 
 a stray artist or so, are taken from them. We have 
 heard her blamed on this account, and accused of 
 undue fastidiousness ; but there strikes us to be no 
 foundation for the charge. It was quite natural that 
 she should take the materials immediately within her 
 reach, especially when these were best adapted to her 
 main purpose — the frank and full exposure of the 
 moral maladies peculiar to persons of her own rank, 
 with a view to the patient endurance of them; for 
 she holds out small prospect of a cure. She moves 
 too easily and habitually amongst her '■'■Hoch- Wohlge- 
 hornen " (High-Wellborn) to produce even a momen- 
 tary impression resembling that left by the authors 
 of our " silver-fork " school ; and although she is evi- 
 dently attached to aristocratical institutions, we have 
 discovered no traces of what can fairly be designated 
 as illiberality. The native nobility of mind is never 
 refused a place alongside of the conventional nobility 
 of birth ; genius is mentioned as the universal leveller : 
 knowledge, refinement, and self-respect, as the best 
 titles to consideration in society. In fact, her tone
 
 284 THE COUNTESS HAIIN-IIAHN. 
 
 and maimer, as well as her selection and treatment of 
 subjects, are precisely those of a high-bred gentle- 
 woman ; and it is by no means an insignificant, 
 though incidental, recommendation of her books, that 
 we collect from them a sufficient knowledge of the 
 habits, tastes, feelings, and opinions of the German 
 nobility and gentry, conveyed in the mode least open 
 to suspicion — i. e. unconsciously. We have a theory, 
 that no one who enters a country for the express 
 purpose of describing it, sees things in their proper 
 natural relation to each other ; and as most of the 
 authors of what are called " fashionable novels " 
 never get beyond the precincts, they are still more 
 liable to fall into exaggerations and mistakes than 
 travellers. 
 
 Another characteristic of this writer is, that she 
 never wanders beyond the circle of private life into 
 questions of government or legislation. This alone 
 strikingly, and in our opinion not disadvantageously, 
 distino-uishes her from a writer who has not unfre- 
 quently been named with her. Madame Hahn-Hahn 
 has been called the " George Sand " of Germany ; and 
 that there are a few superficial points of analogy 
 between her and Madame Dudevant, is undeniable. 
 Both have written novels and travels ; both have 
 been unlucky in marriage : but here the parallel must 
 stop. When we open their books and look a little 
 below the surface, we find ample materials for con- 
 trast, and none whatever for comparison. 
 
 To bring the two within the same category, we 
 must begin by laying entirely out of the account 
 Madame Dudevant's later productions, those of the 
 mystical religious character; in many of which, mixed 
 up with much that is obscure, wild, or faulty, it is 
 impossible to help recognising a wonderful grasp of 
 tliought, combined with poetic power of a very high 
 order. The parallel, if there is to be one, must rest
 
 THE COUNTESS HAIIX-HAIIN. 285 
 
 on such books as " Indiana," "Jacques," and " Lelia." 
 Now these are, for the most part, open or covert 
 attacks on laws, rules, and observances of all sorts. 
 When people are unhappy, it is rarely, according to 
 her, that they have themselves to thank for it. It is 
 some unequal law which depresses the poor — some 
 artificial code of manners and morals which em- 
 barrasses the rich. All our suffering proceeds from 
 causes which a more enlightened public opinion would 
 remove ; and even when individual hearts, minds, and 
 dispositions are in fault, their aberrations are attri- 
 buted to the corruptions or false notions of society. 
 
 We bear willing . testimony to the comprehensive 
 views, the warm sympathies, the hatred of wrong, 
 the thirst for truth, which distinguish all Madame 
 Dudevant's books: nor are we prepared to say that 
 she is an immoral writer. Her ends are noble, though 
 the means may be ill chosen ; she raises and elevates, 
 if she occasionally misleads ; and she never loses 
 sight of the best foundation of all morals — the im- 
 portance of self-sacrifice, the necessity of mutual 
 forbearance, the healing, soothing, peace-promoting 
 virtue of charity. Still it is a dangerous doctrine to 
 propound, that much of what the world calls crime 
 may be nothing more than mistake or misfortune ; 
 and though prolonged and patient suffering exercises 
 a strengthening, purifying effect upon the soul, it 
 requires more of the esoteric philosophy than falls to 
 the lot of many, to appreciate Lelia's meaning, when 
 she silences her young admirer's scruples regarding 
 her friend Trenmor by the remark — " Ecoutez, jeune 
 homme, il a suhi ciiiq ans de travaux forces." 
 
 There is nothing at all resembling this in Madame 
 llahn-IIahn. Her motto rather seems to be : 
 
 " IIow small, of all that human hearts endure, 
 That part which laws or kings can cause or cure."
 
 286 THE COUNTESS HAHN-UAIIN. 
 
 She feels as keenly as any man or woman of genius 
 that ever lived, the frequent injustice of opinion ; and 
 at rare intervals something like a despairing cry 
 breaks from her, at the wearing, wasting monotony 
 of life. But her settled conviction is, that the world 
 is a place of trial, an arena on which the best and 
 wisest are playing at cross-purposes ; man never is, 
 but always to be, blest. In youth we are unhappy, 
 because we cannot anticipate the future ; in more ad- 
 vanced age, because we cannot renovate the past ; 
 and it is a part of the inscrutable design of Provi- 
 dence, that reality should fall short of hope, and en- 
 joyment end in satiety. She do.es not say that our 
 hearts are desperately wicked, but she says that they 
 are desperately fickle ; instead of telling us to obey 
 their capricious impulses, she expressly tells us to 
 bridle them; and she inculcates the due discharge of 
 the domestic duties as the best sedative for restless- 
 ness. Even the weak wavering Ulrich, the slave of 
 passion, is not allowed the ordinary indulgence of at- 
 tributing his loss of peace to the laws of marriage or 
 the regulations of society. 
 
 " You have told me (sajvS Ulrich, in a letter to a friend) 
 that you have been acquainted with passion, but tell me, have 
 you pursued it — or rather, has it pursued you — to the 
 complete disorganisation or paralysis of your being ? Tell 
 me, is it my unlucky peculiarity, or that of all men of sensi- 
 bility, to be encircled and crushed by that boa ? There are 
 moments when I rise against myself, when I would fain 
 shake off, at any cost, a yoke which my weakness has im- 
 posed upon me ; for others shake it off. I am now in such a 
 moment. My whole course of conduct appears to me un- 
 worthy and unmanly. I ask myself: Are there, then, no 
 honours and duties, no merits and distinctions, no friends, 
 male or female, in the world, with whom life may be passed 
 suitably, reasonably, and, so to speak, right pleasantly ? Have 
 I not my beautiful Malans on the beautiful Khine, sufficient
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. 287 
 
 for all the wants of domestic, as well as all the refinements 
 of social life, full of recollections of my father, who loved 
 and adorned it, because he had there spent many a happy 
 year with my mother. Am I not myself married to a pretty, 
 amiable woman, who requires nothing but a little attention 
 on my part to become the best of wives and the tenderest of 
 mothers ? Is it not inconceivable perversity, or criminal 
 blindness, to possess so many elements of happiness, and not 
 to be able so to order and govern them, as to mould them 
 into a firm, sure, complete happiness ? Ought I not to 
 collect myself once for all ? take my heart to task, call in 
 my wishes from their restle:?s aimless wanderings, chanae my 
 unattainable dreams of bliss for the attainable peaceful en- 
 joyments of reality, and instantly return from the plains of 
 the Don to the Rheingau and my home ? Home, my friend 
 — is not that a sweet name for a sweeter thing ? Does not 
 the foundation and keystone of all human exertion lie within 
 the narrow limits of domesticity — in its kindly, cordial, 
 contented, and yet widely-branching influence ? Every 
 other loosens the bonds between us and our fellows, because 
 it isolates us in our egotism : let the love of glory, the thirst 
 of knowledge, the pursuit of art, or even the loftiest ambi- 
 tion, boast as they may of their philanthropy, of their 
 brotherhood with the human race, and their exertions in its 
 cause. As for all those theoretical systems of philanthropy, 
 which profess to establish amity with Hottentots and Esqui- 
 maux, and bring about cordiality between nations, while the 
 founder hates and despises the individual men in his imme- 
 diate neighbourhood, and harbours envy and jealousy within 
 his own breast, I make no great account of them. The 
 practical one of St. Vincent de Paul, who took off the chains 
 of the galley slaves, and bore them in their stead — that I 
 can conceive, and the Saint was lucky in having hit upon it. 
 I possess no such capability of self-sacrifice, and very few 
 do. Since, however, no thorough improvement of character 
 is possible, unless our charity and compassion, our patience 
 and readiness for self-sacrifice, are tried, — for this very 
 reason a circle has been marked out for us, in which we may 
 practise them for our own happiness, and, therefore, willingly 
 and easily ; namely, the family circle. Yes, God has ordered 
 man's destiny easily and pleasingly ! he places each of us
 
 288 THE COUNTESS HAIIN-nAIIN. 
 
 before the entrance of a magic circle, full of such power and 
 such beauty, that egotism itself loses its ugly form within it, 
 since it is there chanireJ into a feeling which belono;s to the 
 mine, and no longer to the I. There is full contentment ; 
 reward in the sacrifice ; blessing for the exertion ; consolation 
 hand-in-hand with care, and refreshment alongside of labour. 
 Instead, now, of taking possession of this happiness without 
 more ado, we look round, and consider whom we shall intro- 
 duce into our paradise, and there may be one amongst ten 
 thousand who does not demand from God an Eve after his 
 own special ordering. See now, this demand thrusts us far 
 away from the portal. Everything assumes a different form ; 
 the kindly circle is changed into a prison, where intolerable 
 burdens and miseries await us — into a rowing bench, on 
 which two wretches are chained down, whose sufferings are 
 turned into downright martyrdom by their compelled proxi- 
 mity. And all this because we never, or too late, meet with 
 the individual woman whom we should wish to make our 
 wife ! Had God given us nothins; but sound sense and un- 
 derstanding, this would never come to pass; and every sen- 
 sible, pretty woman, would answer our expectations, and 
 satisfy us. But, to our sorrow, we have also a heart ; and 
 that is not so easily satisfied. It is too tender, or too wilful 
 — enough, it desi)ises the simple domestic fare, and hungers 
 for ambrosia. In this everlasting hunger it grows faint. 
 Faintness of heart paralyses the whole machinery of exist- 
 ence. To this am I come. Do you understand this ? I 
 do not mean, have you thought about it, but have you lived 
 it ? " * 
 
 A woman, a weak one too, suffering from the same 
 malady, writes thus: 
 
 *' What states of mind and soul I have lived through ! 
 with what demons I have wrestled ! what a languishinff thirst 
 for happiness at first, and what an aversion for the joys of the 
 world at last came over me. Oh, there are no words for it! 
 Yet who among us has not wrestled and suffered ? who among 
 us has not gone through the illusion-destroying, spirit-crushing 
 process ? who among us has not seen his altars tottering, and 
 his idol tumbling from its throne ? But, somewhere or other, 
 
 * Vol.11, p. 12.
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-IIAHN. 289 
 
 there is a green oasis for us aU ! If it does not bloom in the 
 present, it dawns in the future, or smiles mournfully from the 
 past. He who is saddened by his recollections, throws Iiim- 
 self boldly into the arms of hope or into the bewitching en- 
 joyment of the moment ; he who suffers from the world, takes 
 refuge in a loving heart or in his own ; he who cannot 
 luxuriate in feeling, seeks relief in action ; he who cannot 
 find a resting point that satisfies him in things external, has 
 a wide unbounded domain bestowed upon him by thought. 
 Existence is an ever-blooming Eden for none ; for most, it is 
 a soil which they must laboriously build upon, a soil scattered 
 over with wastes and rocks ; yet the dry waste is sprinkled 
 with sweet flowers, moss and ivy are entwined about the rock, 
 and the fir-tree springs from its crevices. Vegetation plants 
 itself everywhere, and developes life — except in drift-sand.'''' 
 
 As for our minor miseries, these also depend much 
 upon ourselves ; and a habit of self-examination, she 
 thinks, will effectually remove most of them. When 
 you are fretful, uneasy, desponding, without any as- 
 signable cause — or inclined to think yourself neglected 
 by your friends, pause a moment and consider whether 
 they have not as much reason to complain of you as 
 you of them ; whether you are not suffering from 
 some chronic malady, moral or physical ; whether 
 you are not approximating to the state of Louis XIV. 
 at that period of his life when Madame Maintenon 
 complained, that she had to amuse a King who was 
 no longer amusahle. 
 
 Again, according to Madame Hahn-Hahn's theory, 
 although it may not be in every one's power to be 
 contented or constant, it is in every one's power to be 
 true ; and she has no mercy for any sort of trifling, 
 mental sophistication, or deceit — 
 
 " This, above all, to thine own self be true ; 
 And it must follow, as the light the day, 
 Thou canst not then be false to any man." 
 
 Her severity in this respect may be estimated from 
 a short dialogue between the young artist Polydor 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. 
 
 and the Countess Sclionholm, his patroness, in " Ans 
 der Gesellschaft :" 
 
 " ' But you will write to me often and much, won't you? ' 
 " ' That is as it may be : I can promise nothing before- 
 hand, because I do not know whether I shall be able to keep 
 my word.' 
 
 " ' But you must know what you will do ? ' 
 " * No, for I do not know whJt may happen to me.' 
 " ' It is, therefore, quite possible for you to forget me alto- 
 gether in a new object or a new idea? ' 
 
 " * No ; but you may certainly be thrown into the back- 
 ground.' 
 
 '* ' Countess, you are dreadfully candid.' 
 
 " ' If you would but speak the truth, you feel exactly the 
 
 I 
 
 same.' 
 
 " * Possibly ; but I do not say it to you.' 
 
 *' * I, however, say it to you designedly, that you might 
 not, young as you are, imagine yourself to be dearer to me 
 than you are.' 
 
 « ' Countess, why do you say such hard things to me ? ' 
 
 " * Because you are a man, my poor Polydor; consequently 
 a little vain and confident. In every relation between men 
 and women, I deem it best for both sides to know, as pre- 
 cisely and clearly as possible, what they are to one another ; 
 otherwise misunderstandings capable of giving great pain 
 may easily occur.' " 
 
 We have said that allowances are made for passion ; 
 but we must limit the proposition. The indulgence 
 extends no further than to the unconscious growth 
 or progress of feeling ; the moment ladies or gentle- 
 men become aware of a guilty wish or forbidden 
 liking, they must fly. No paltering with conscience, 
 no tampering with duty, no references to Plato or his 
 creed ; judgment of instant separation is pronounced 
 without appeal. Otto (in " Aus der Gesellschaft " ) gives 
 up Ilda. Margaret (in " Ulrich ") flies Ulrich. Olden 
 (in " Der Rechte") quits Vincenza for ever at her bid- 
 ding. Renata (in "Cecil") nobly resists temptation. In 
 
 I
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. 291 
 
 the few instances in which the bounds of duty are 
 transgressed, the transgression is not defended ; and 
 the character (Faustine, for example) is described 
 as an exceptionable one. It should be added, that 
 Madame Hahn-Hahn's respect for inconstancy ori- 
 ginates in a conviction that the highest natures — 
 generally the most imaginative and impressible — are 
 incapacitated, by the law of their being, from resting 
 satisfied with what they possess ; or resisting the at- 
 tractions of any new and unknown object, if it happens 
 to bear a closer resemblance to the ideal ima^e of 
 grace and beauty which is ever moving before them 
 with a glory round its head. Moreover, their minds 
 and hearts are constantly advancing ; and the same 
 amount of excellence, or the same sort of sympathy, 
 will no more suffice for them in their more advanced 
 stages, than the pursuits of boyhood will satisfy the 
 man. Still, this tendency does not prevent them 
 from throwing themselves, heart and soul, into their 
 first grand passion ; and an adorer, after jMadame 
 Hahn-Hahn's own heart, would be more likely to be 
 thought too devoted than the contrary. The required 
 sentiment, seasoned with a spice of Wertherism, is 
 embodied in some spirited verses printed in lier first 
 novel*, and we have therefore attempted a translation 
 of them. It is as literal as we can make it ; but it is 
 only by a lucky chance that a succession of simple 
 heartfelt expressions or idiomatic felicities in one 
 language are ever capable of exact representation 
 in another. 
 
 " If you'll be my own, 
 Then list to me now. 
 My love shall be shown 
 
 Long as fate will allow. 
 The truth, you shall hear it, 
 Whatever it be, 
 • And if you can't bear it, 
 
 You do not love me. 
 
 * Aus der Gesellschaft, p. 189. 
 u 2
 
 292 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. 
 
 " Thorn-tangled and wild, 
 
 And o'er rocks, is my path ; 
 Oh ! am I the child 
 
 Of God's favour or wrath ? 
 At times I feel riven — 
 
 So shatter'd, so drear — 
 And then, as if heaven 
 
 Were opening to cheer. 
 
 " The lark trills her note 
 
 Unseen and on high ; 
 The eagle will Uoat 
 
 Alone in the sky. 
 Just so is my being ; 
 
 I pour out my lay 
 Unseen and unseeing, 
 
 And hover, as they. 
 
 " Right up tow'rds the sun 
 
 I soar, tempest-tost ; * 
 
 And bliss has been won 
 
 Where peace has been lost. 
 Yet I grow calm, and care 
 
 Dies away at its birth. 
 As I bathe in the air 
 
 That's untainted by earth. 
 
 " Let the war-cries of life 
 
 Ring loud as they will. 
 Through the thick of the strife, 
 
 You must follow me still. 
 The shame you must bear, 
 
 Ay, make it your own ; 
 And the crown you must wear 
 
 As if born to a throne. 
 
 " If your soul is thus steel'd, 
 
 Self-sustained, self-possess'd, 
 Unable to yield. 
 
 And yet able to rest ; 
 Come to me — no shrinking — 
 
 I'll live on for you — 
 But if you stay thinking 
 
 One moment — Adieu." fl 
 
 We have gradually wandered from our parallel ; " 
 
 but we must return to it, if only to mention one more 
 difference, the most decided of the whole. Some 
 gifted and many common-place women, feeling or 
 thinkino- themselves fitted for a wider field of exertion
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. 293 
 
 than is ordinarily held compatible with the appro- 
 priate virtues of their sex, have murmured, or railed 
 in good set terms, at the alleged injustice of the re- 
 straints imposed on it ; and Madame Dudevant, not 
 satisfied with assuming a masculine name, and dis- 
 playing (it must be owned) a masculine strength of 
 understanding, has occasionally adopted the garb, 
 together with a few of the distinctive habits, of the 
 stronger sex. The statuette by which she is best 
 known throughout Europe, represents her standing 
 in an easy, independent attitude, attired in panta- 
 loons and a frock coat. Madame Hahn-Hahn, on the 
 contrary, is thoroughly feminine in all her tastes, 
 habits, feelings, and modes of thought — in her weak- 
 ness as well as in her strength ; nor does she appear 
 to have made up her mind that women are qualified 
 to contend for the greater prizes in art, science, and 
 philosophy. For example : — 
 
 " ' Without pleasure in that which has been undertaken in 
 good earnest, without devotion to it, satisftiction in it, triumph 
 with it — nothing great was ever yet accomplished ; and 
 what is the quintessence of these feelings except inspiration ? 
 "What else is the pulse of their life ? Inspiration is the 
 electric shock which runs through the chain of existence; 
 and history shows that it is only received by men.' 
 
 " ' Only by men ? ' interrupted Faustine — ' and the pro- 
 phetesses of the Hebrews ! and the Roman matrons who 
 laughed at death ! and the priestesses of the Germanic 
 tribes ! and the heroines of Saragossa ! ' 
 
 " ' I except the mere impulse. When a woman's heart is 
 touched, when it is moved by love — be it for an individual, 
 for her country, or for her God — then the electric spark is 
 communicated, and the fire of inspiration flames up. But 
 even then, woman desires no more than to suffer and die for 
 what she loves. No woman was ever excited to the creatinsr, 
 controlling, world-lifting point : no, never ; that is, never by 
 inspiration. By intrigue, by caprice — likely enough; she 
 amuses herself with these occasionally. But it never yet en- 
 tered the mind of woman to make her lover immortal, like 
 
 u 3
 
 294 THE COUNTESS IIAIIN-HAHN. 
 
 Petrarch's Laura and Dante's Beatrice, They do not even 
 master art ; much less science. That woman remains to be 
 born who is capable of interesting herself for an abstract 
 idea, to the extent of enduring chains and torture for its 
 sake, like Galileo with his e pur si mnove. We cannot so 
 much as form a notion of a female Socrates.'" {Faustine, 
 p. 149.) 
 
 There is no getting over the fact that no woman 
 has ever attained the highest rank in any branch of 
 art, science, or literature; — not even in music or 
 painting, where neither masculine education nor 
 physical strength can be deemed essential. There are 
 no female Raphaels or Michael Angelos ; no female 
 Handels, Beethovens, or Mozarts. Madame Hahn- 
 Hahn does not even maintain the superiority of her 
 sex in matters of the heart. 
 
 "'Under ordinary circumstances,' said Faustine, *we may 
 be superior to men in tact and fineness of perception ; but 
 when a man loves — and this happens oftener than women 
 are willing to allow — he enfolds the beloved one like a 
 sensitive plant, and feels sooner, stronger, every dawning 
 emotion, every shade of feeling, every growing thorn of dis- 
 ao-reement, every swelling bud of happiness. But then he 
 must love in good earnest ' " (p. 177). 
 
 Enouo-h has been said to distino-uish Madame Hahn- 
 Hahn from her celebrated contemporary ; and the 
 course of the parallel has naturally led us to state the 
 leading qualities of her style. We may now, there- 
 fore, proceed to a more detailed examination of her 
 books ; but it is only fair to say, that their great 
 charm consists in the succession of skilful touches by 
 which characters are developed, and in the incidental 
 topics or allusions by wliich attention is kept up. 
 She seems to have followed the advice given by Mr. 
 Merryman to the poet in the prologue to " Faust." 
 " Do but grasp into the thick of human life ! Every 
 one lives it — to not m.any is it known — and seize it
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. 295 
 
 where you will, it is interesting." She scatters about 
 so many traits of sensibility, so many poetic fancies, 
 so much suggestive speculation on the subjects which 
 come home to every one who has mixed in society ; 
 that, though few of them, taken individually, may be 
 very profound or original, a highly pleasing impres- 
 sion is produced — somewhat resembling that (to 
 borrow one of her own similes) produced by the 
 milky way upon the eye. " The collective mass forms 
 a luminous streak, every single minute point of which 
 is a star; but no Orion, no Sirius, overpoweringly 
 attracts the view." She is just the sort of writer who 
 must be read, and read carefully by a qualified reader, 
 to be appreciated. 
 
 " Griifin Faustine," the third on our list, is the book 
 in which Madame Hahn-Hahn first put forth her full 
 strength, and displayed her peculiar qualities. It is 
 marked by more unity of purpose and compactness 
 of i)lot, than " Aus der Gesellschaft " or " Der 
 Rechte ; " which, short as they are, are more than 
 half made up of episodical narratives or detached 
 scenes. It has also been said, and is currently be- 
 lieved, that " Griifin Faustine," and Ida, Griifin Hahn- 
 Hahn, are one and the same person. 
 
 The opening-scene is laid at Dresden, on the terrace 
 overlooking the river, where several young men are 
 lounging and chatting, one fine alternoon in June. 
 It was too early for the female promenaders. 
 
 " It was consequently the more remarkable that a woman, 
 apparently belonging to the higher class, was seated on a 
 bench, with her back towards the pavilion, undisturbed by 
 the talking of the men, or the noise of the children. But it 
 struck no one. She must therefore be somebody whom 
 every one know and no one minded. She was sketching 
 diligently. A servant stood statue-like by her side, holding 
 a parasol, so that neither a dazzling ray of light, nor the 
 quivering shade of the leaves, might fall on the hand, eye, or 
 paper, of his lady. Her large dark eye flew with keen quick 
 
 V 4
 
 29G THE COUNTESS IIAIIN-HAIIN. 
 
 glances liitlier Jiml tliitlier between the drawing and the land- 
 scape ; and tlie delicate hand, relieved from tlie glove for the 
 sake of greater fineness of touch, and careless of exposure 
 to the air, skilfully followed the glance. Siie was completely 
 buried in her occupation." 
 
 The group of loungers were joined by one of their 
 companions, and a stranger, Count Mario Mengen, 
 who had just been appointed Secretary of Embassy 
 at Dresden — a distinguished-looking man in the prime 
 of life. 
 
 " ' Why, there is actually the Countess Faustine sketch- 
 ing!' suddenly exclaimed the new comer, Feldern. 
 
 " ' But where is Andlau, then ? ' said another : * she has 
 been nearly an hour here alone. I wonder that he consents 
 to it.' 
 
 " * That he endures it ! ' exclaimed another. 
 
 " ' Come, come,' said the ever kind Feldern, ' they are not 
 chained to one another.' 
 
 " ' Don't you believe, Feldern, that they are privately 
 married ? ' 
 
 *' ' No : for they might be openly married, if they chose.'" 
 
 Whilst the conversation was proceeding, the lady- 
 rose and moved slowly away, greeting the men of her 
 acquaintance with the air of a Queen as she went by. 
 
 " ' Who is the lady ? ' inquired Count Mengen, eagerly. 
 
 " ' The very Countess Faustine we were speaking about.' 
 
 " ' A stranger ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes, but settled here some years.' 
 
 " ' Married ? ' 
 
 " ' Has been ' — ' Perhaps ' — ' Not known ' — ' A widow ' 
 • — resounded on all sides. 
 
 " Mengen looked round. ' You are joking.' 
 
 " ' Honour bright ! we are speaking the simple truth.' 
 
 " * The truest and simplest,' said Feldern, ' is, notwith- 
 standing, when we say that Countess Faustine Obernau is a 
 widow.' " 
 
 The scene chanires to Faustine's house, where 
 
 i
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. 297 
 
 Baron Andlnu is discovered, seated on an ottoman, 
 in a fever of impatience for her return. 
 
 " * Why does she not come ? ' said he to himself: * has any- 
 thing happened to her? Why did I not go with her? my 
 headache would not have been worse. Why, above all, did 
 I let her go out at this hour of the day ! ' He took his hat, 
 and was going out to meet her, when he heard her step on 
 tlie staircase. He sprang up and opened the door for her. 
 The darkened room seemed to grow light as she entered. 
 Faustine threw her bonnet on one table, her drawina'-book 
 on another, herself on a sof\i, and exclaimed — - 
 
 " ' My dear Anastasius, that will be a charming sketch ! 
 but I am tired — tired to death.' 
 
 " ' Why do you over-exert yourself so ? Is it absolutely 
 necessary that the sketch should have so hot a sun-glare ? ' 
 
 " * Absolutely necessary ! ' said she. ' Besides, I have 
 already rested, and this very evening you must go over to 
 Neustadt with me. I must learn exactly how the river and 
 the churches look by moonlight.' " 
 
 He hands her a letter containing an invitation from 
 her sister-indaw : 
 
 " ' Well,' said Faustine, ' a day or two sooner or later can't 
 matter to you. Let us start the day after to-morrow. To- 
 gether as far as Coburg; then you to Kissingen, I to Ober- 
 walldorf; at the beginning of July I will join you — and then 
 for Belgium.' 
 
 " Andlau made no objection. He was content with every 
 thing that was agreeable to her, and as she commonly cared 
 for nothing and nobody in the world but him, this must be 
 reckoned an extraordinary merit in him ; for most people are 
 most dissatisfied when the greatest interest is taken in them. 
 She had sat down beside him on the ottoman. He touched 
 her forehead lightly with his lips, and looked down upon her 
 with an indescribable expression of tenderness, devotion, and 
 joy. Faustine alone had ever seen him smile from an inward 
 sense of pleasure; for to her he was every thing she wanted, 
 and at every moment when she wanted him — father or 
 friend, teacher or luvcr, encoiu-arrinLj or warnin"-, watcliinr"- 
 over or caressing — and she leant upon him as her visible
 
 298 THE COUNTESS IIAHN-HAHN. 
 
 providence. Her discursive fancy was kept within limits by 
 his clearness — her restless excitability by his calmness. 'As 
 those slaves In the East,' she would say laughingly, ' wear, 
 as a sign of their condition, only a little gold chain upon the 
 wrist, which looks like an ornament ; just so is your love an 
 ornament, but still a chain.' 
 
 " ' Which you are obliged to carry to prevent your being 
 blown about by all the winds of heaven,' replied Andlau. 
 
 "'And to be sure I deserve no better; for I have a 
 genuine slave natui'e, and love most where I am most tyran- 
 nised over.' " 
 
 With every wish to be sparing of our extracts, we 
 are obliged to bear in mind that a train must be laid 
 where an effect is to be produced : it is essential that 
 the characters and position of Andlau an^ Faustine 
 should be understood ; and a few descriptive touches 
 are still necessary. 
 
 " Almost all women were fond of Faustine, for she never 
 came into competition with them. She grudged them neither 
 their triumphs, nor their fine clothes, nor their adorers, and 
 was content to have none of these. True, she threw the 
 most beautiful and brilliant women into the shade, yet in 
 such a manner that it was not felt. The beautiful said — • 
 ' She has a great deal of mind, but she is certainly not hand- 
 some.' The clever — ' She has not much sense, but she is 
 very lovely.' None of them compared themselves with her, 
 just as fine garden flowers would probably not like to be com- 
 pared to a wild Alpine plant. A savage said once, on seeing 
 a picture of an angel, ' He is of my race.' Civilised people 
 no longer possess this divine instinct. 
 
 Some may think tliis figure overwrought, but let it 
 not be condemned hastily. Does it not gracefully 
 indicate the too prevalent inclination in society to put 
 down or repudiate what exceeds the ordinary mea- 
 sure, or makes the least claim, however well-founded, 
 to superiority ? When the claim has been made 
 good, the tone is inviting enough, but the first im- 
 pulse is to repel. It is something to fix the attention 
 
 !
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. 299 
 
 of contemporaries — to say nothing of the chances 
 with posterity — and one would think that ordinary 
 people would gladly claim kindred with genius ; yet, 
 not long since, it was by no means unusual to hear 
 a common-place, mere walking talking gentleman, 
 sneeringly inform the company that he was not 
 literary — as if any human being could fancy that he 
 was. 
 
 "Pindar's fine remark," says Coleridge, "respecting 
 the different effects of music on different characters, 
 holds equally true of genius ; as many as are not 
 delighted by it, are disturbed, perplexed, irritated." 
 Goethe makes the same complaintin his"Farbenlehre:" 
 " a noble deed is attributed to selfishness, an heroic 
 action to vanity, an undeniable poetic production to 
 a state of delirium : nay, what is still stranger, every 
 thing of the highest excellence that comes forth — 
 every thing most worthy of remark that occurs, is, 
 so long as it is barely possible, denied." 
 
 The ordinary run of men, it is added, did not take 
 to her : she was not sufficiently tolerant of their com- 
 plimentary commonplaces, or indulgent to their self- 
 love. 
 
 " Elderly men liked her best ; probably because she was 
 more friendly towards tliera — partly out of respect for age, 
 partly because she maintained that she ran less danger — not 
 of falling in love — but of being suspected of doing so, which 
 might prove inconvenient and annoying. She was without 
 fortune, without consideration, without connexions; yet such 
 was the influence of her personal qualities, that the world 
 silently recognised her connexion with Baron Andlau as a 
 legal one, and, to excuse itself for this indulgence, supposed 
 a private marriage." 
 
 This kind of toleration is not unusual in Germany 
 — not merely in Vienna, where a certain degree of 
 laxity has always existed, but in Berlin, where the 
 standard of propriety is more rigidly maintained.
 
 300 THE COUNTESS HAIIN-IIAIIN. 
 
 They separate, and Faustine goes to her sister's, 
 •where nothing remarkable occurs, except that a wild 
 young man, Clement Wallsdorf, a connexion of the 
 family, foils desperately in love with her, despite of 
 marked discouragement. On her return, she rushes 
 to meet Andlau with an eagerness which makes him 
 tremble. 
 
 " She was bewitchino;lv beautiful in her storms of sen- 
 sibility, and indeed all human beings are most beautiful 
 when they are in their peculiar element ; but he loved her so 
 mucli, that he felt less pleasure in seeing her in her full 
 beauty, than fear lest the frequent recurrence of such mo- 
 ments should consume the sources of life. 
 
 " ' But why are you weeping, Ini ?' asked A^ndlau ; ' be- 
 fore you were with me you had something like a reason — 
 but now ?' 
 
 '"Pedant!' exclaimed she, 'must I then be happy by 
 rule? When rejoicings, kissing, caresses, are not enough, 
 tears and fault-findinij must take their turn.' " 
 
 o 
 
 Andlau's mother dies, and another separation 
 becomes necessary. They part as usual with vows of 
 eternal constancy : 
 
 " ' Now, let the most important word be the last. Inl — ■ 
 Forget me not.' 
 
 " ' That is a worn-out jest, Anastasius.' 
 
 " ' No jest, Ini. You do not know yet how you can forget 
 alk' 
 
 "'Oh, all, dearest — all; but not you!' She flung her 
 arms round him in a burst of agony, and when he tore him- 
 self away, and the door closed upon him, she felt that her 
 guardian angel had abandoned her ; she saidc u[)on one knee, 
 exclaiming — ' He is gone 1 he is gone ! Oh, my God, abide 
 with me now ! ' " 
 
 His return is postponed from week to week, and 
 she remains for nearly two months in a state of lone- 
 liness, going out very seldom, and receiving few 
 visitors. At the end of this time, her j^oung admirer,
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. SOI 
 
 Clement, arrives at Dresden ; and she begins to 
 cultivate society in order to avoid a frequent tete-d- 
 tcte with him. At the house of a friend she becomes 
 acquainted with Count Mario Mengen, the stranger 
 who had been so much struck by her on the terrace. 
 He is clever, well-informed, and endowed with a 
 certain independence of thought and bearing, which 
 harmonises with her own. His conversation soon 
 becomes her chief resource; the day is incomplete 
 without him, and Andlau's absence is less painfully 
 felt. 
 
 The passages in which the growth of their mutual 
 liking is traced, are amongst the best in the book ; 
 but we must hasten to the period when it can no 
 longer remain a secret to either of them. On one 
 occasion Mengen found her surrounded with maps of 
 the East. He asked her what she was studying. 
 
 " ' My journey to the East' She explahied her plan, and 
 asked whether he would be of the party. He joyfully 
 assented ; and she proceeded to call up all the historical and 
 poetical associations which throw so great a charm on this 
 journey. Suddenly she said, ' One of Andlau's friends has 
 just been appointed Consul at Alexandria. He wrote me so 
 to-day, and this friend is now the foundation-stone of my 
 j)yramid of hope.' 
 
 " ' As soon as the Baron von Andlau is with vou, I shall be 
 de trop,^ said Mengen very coldly, * and I fancy you would 
 then willingly dispense with me.' 
 
 " ' Why should you deprive yourself of the pleasure ? ' she 
 inquired kindly ; ' and can I then ever be surrounded by too 
 many friends ? ' 
 
 " ' Ah, you make me your slave — not your friend.' 
 
 " ' If I do so, you are right to break loose from me ; 
 but I do it unconsciously.' 
 
 *' * But go. Count Mengen — go ; if your liberty is infringed 
 by me, I do not keep you.' 
 
 " ' Unconsciously, as you said yourself.' 
 
 " * Well, if you won't go, you must not complain. You
 
 302 THE COUNTESS UAHN-UAHN. 
 
 may break your cluilns, but you must not rebel against 
 them.' " 
 
 As if from a presentiment that his strength of mind 
 would soon be put to the proof, she, half in earnest, 
 requires him to take a vow that, come what may, he 
 will never be wanting to himself. 
 
 ** ' Now then,' said Mengen, exerting himself to keep up 
 the tone of feeling ; * now, you must give me something 
 which will constantly remind me of it, which will never leave 
 me.* 
 
 " ' That is but fair,' said she ; * Duke Christian of Bruns- 
 wick constantly wore a glove of Elizabeth of the Palatinate 
 in his helmet. My yellow glove would have an excellent 
 effect in your black hat.' 
 
 " Mario rose, and walked to her writing-table. On It stood 
 a small Etruscan vase, containing rings and seals. He brought 
 It to her. She glanced over the contents, and at length 
 selected a plain gold ring, with a single large pearl, and the 
 device : Qui me cherche, me trouve. * Is this ring to your 
 liking ? ' 
 
 " By way of reply, Mengen held out his hand, and begged 
 her to place the ring on the ring finger. She was about to 
 comply, when she suddenly bethought herself, and said slowly. 
 * No, that finger will at some future time wear another ring, 
 to which mine must give place. Grant It a place from which 
 it can never be expelled. No objections ! ' she exclaimed, 
 with animation. * I am wilful ! I will have a place to 
 myself, be it ever so small — I will have my own place, or 
 none at alL It Is for you to choose.' 
 
 " ' It is for you to command,' replied Mario ; ' I meant 
 only, that you make every place your own,' 
 
 " ' Oh yes, if I take my stand on one which never brings 
 me into collision with the claims of the world. See, the rlns: 
 fits your little finger exactly:' and she placed it there. 
 
 " At the conclusion of this interview, Mario was so happy 
 that he had quite forgotten how cast down he was at the 
 commencement. To Faustine, however, as soon as he went 
 away, the question suggested Itself — whether Andlau would 
 be quite satisfied with this gift of the ring. In his presence 
 she would certainly have given it, and have been sure of his
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. 303 
 
 consent. But in his absence ? The resolution to write to 
 him a full account of it the next morning, quieted her.' 
 
 She is interrupted, and forgets to write ; yet 
 Madame Hahn-Hahn labours hard to persuade us that 
 there was no coquetry, no selfishness, no intentional 
 trifling with the feelings of others, in what she did. 
 It was their fault or misfortune if their paths crossed, 
 or their destiny became blended with hers. 
 
 " * I really cannot bear to live so lonely, and if Mengcn 
 were not here ! — Thank God, he is.' Whether this delight 
 in his presence would outlast Andlau's return — whether 
 Mario would not have reason to complain, if that were not 
 the case — never so much as occurred to her. She thought 
 she had a right to rejoice with all her soul in this attractive 
 object. She saw no danger in this. It would be doing her 
 injustice to call this levity, though there was thiit in her 
 nature which produces levity. But life was to her a problem, 
 how to mould herself to the greatest possible perfection ; and 
 every incident was a fresh stroke of the chisel to assist in 
 freeins: the divine image from the rou";h mass of rock. What- 
 ever fell in her way, she accepted as sent from on high to be 
 worked up for her improvement, without doing wrong to any 
 one. But what thread of existence is drawn out in so lonely 
 a direction, that no other gets entangled or interwoven with 
 it." 
 
 A consciousness of her critical position begins at 
 last to break upon her. Would Andlau and Mengen 
 agree ? Would it be possible for her to keep well 
 Avith both of them ? She felt that it would not. 
 She felt that her only safe and honest course was, to 
 tell Mengcn at once the exact nature of her connec- 
 tion with Andlau ; but this would drive him from 
 her, and she could not make up her mind to such a 
 sacrifice. Whilst she is still wavering, Mengen is 
 obliged to leave Dresden. A party of her friends 
 are with her on the last evening they are to pass to- 
 gether J but he stays them all out.
 
 304 THE COUNTESS HAIIN-IIAIIN. 
 
 " At last she was alone with Mario. Silent, with folded 
 arms, he stood before her for a time, for his feelings stifled 
 his words. She stood np, placed both hands, clasped to- 
 gether, on his arm. ' Till our next meeting, friend.' I 
 
 " * Can I part from you thus ? ' inquired he in the same 
 low tone, and clasped her hands in his. * Oh, Faustine, I 
 cannot I ' he exclaimed with overflowing vehemence, and 
 pressed her to his heart. 
 
 " ' Oh, this is not right,' said she, still with the same 
 expression of sadness in look and tone. 
 
 " ' Pardon, Faustine,' said JNIario, more softly, and his 
 hand glided lightly over her haii', and across her cheek — 
 
 * For I love you.' 
 
 *' All at once she stood up, disengaged from his arm, in 
 front of him. She spread out her arms not towards him, but 
 upwards to heaven, and with a joyful ecstatic tone, exclaimed, 
 
 * He loves me ! ' 
 
 " ' Whither, then, with this agitating glow, Faustine, if 
 not to me ? ' cried Mario, and flung his arms round her as 
 if to chain her to his side. 
 
 " ' He loves me ! ' she repeated with the same inward 
 enthusiasm. She clasped his head with both her hands, 
 gazed on him, then shook her own slowly, and said as in a 
 dream : * But that cannot be true.' 
 
 " ' Not true ? Oh, Faustine ! have you not felt how, by 
 degrees, my very existence has become blended with your 
 own ; how my heart has learned to beat in your breast ; my 
 8i:)irit to fly in yoUr direction ; my whole being to keep pace 
 with yours? Is not that love, Faustine?' 
 
 " ' Oh, but that is dreadful ! ' 
 
 " ' Why, Faustine, angel, you love me.' 
 
 " ' I ! ' exclaimed she, and passed her hand acrot^s her 
 brow. 'I — you? You are strangely mistaken, Count 
 Mengen.' 
 
 " Mario's radiant features were suddenly convulsed. He 
 moved Faustine from him, and said, in a menacing tone — 
 ' Faustine ! ' 
 
 " She sank into a chair. Her tears flowed fast, and there 
 was an indescribable air of suffering in her whole fi'ame. 
 Mario had not the power to leave her, although at the first 
 moment he had made a movement towards the door. He
 
 THE COUNTESS HAUN-IIAIIN. 305 
 
 knelt before her, and said: ' Faustine, how can you tell such 
 an untruth ? ' 
 
 " ' I tell no untruth,' she murmured, without looking up. 
 
 ^' ' Look in my face, firmly and quietly, and now answer 
 me — Do you not love me, Faustine ? ' 
 
 "'iVo/'gaid she, in a hardly audible tone ; but uncon- 
 sciously her eyes rested on him with such heavenly tender- 
 ness, that he exclaimed, enchanted — ' Your sweet deceitful 
 lips speak false ! your eyes say ^es, and I believe them.'' 
 
 " ' No, no ! ' she exclaimed, in increasing agony, and held 
 both hands before her eyes ; ' Do not mind the treacherous 
 eyes ; the lips speak the truth.' 
 
 " •' Faustine,' said Mengen, rising up, and his angry voice 
 grew more terrifying from the tremulousness which excite- 
 ment threw into it ; 'if you do not love me ; if all has been 
 but trifling — tlie amusement of an idle hour: if you have 
 lavislied the whole fascination of your nature as a vulgar 
 coquetry : if you have accustomed yourself to such a disre- 
 gard of the feelings of others, as to anatomise living, beating, 
 bleeding hearts, for your instruction or your sport, tlien I 
 have no expression for my contempt.' 
 
 " ' Mario ! ' shrieked Faustine, and sank upon her knees, 
 «flove you!'" 
 
 She now gives him the history of her life. She 
 was married young to a common-place man, Count 
 Obernau. She felt no love for him, and, before she 
 became his wife, she told him so ; but he assured her 
 that the required feeling would come in good time, 
 and that they should do very well together if it did 
 not. But everything about him was repelling to 
 her sensitive impulsive character, and she naturally 
 enough caught at the first offer of sympathy. An 
 attachment grew up between Baron von Andlau and 
 herself, not discouraged by her husband, who had 
 begun to get tired of her, and thought her incapable 
 of loving any one, since she had failed to love him. 
 Set on by his sister, however, he took to watching 
 them, and soon surprised them in an attitude of 
 tenderness, which, though not quite irreconcilable 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 THE COUNTESS IIAHN-HAIIN. 
 
 with , purity, was certainly calculated to put the 
 most philosophical husband's philosophy to the test. 
 Obernau runs for his pistol, and insists on Andlau's 
 fighting him. " Andlau retained his composure, 
 conjured him to spare me, and not make a public 
 scandal ; whilst I stood like a statue, deprived of 
 speech, thought, and reflection : nor did I recover 
 my faculties until a pistol shot was discharged, and 
 Andlau fell at my feet. Then I knew what I had to 
 do ! I ordered horses, conveyed him to his own 
 house, sent for surgeons, and stayed with him. 
 Obernau, the whole world, were nothing to me from 
 that hour." The husband pressed her to return ; 
 " I will never," she replied, " return to the house of 
 a man who has degraded himself and me in the eyes 
 of the world." He, on his part, refuses to consent to 
 a divorce, and when, two years after the breach, he 
 dies, she herself declines becoming the wife of Andlau, 
 from a fantastic aversion to a tie which had made 
 her so miserable. 
 
 " ' I thank you,' said Mengen, ' for unveiUng your destiny 
 to me, and doubly do I thank you, since I see nothing in it 
 to separate us.' 
 
 " Faustine looked at him without speaking, and passed 
 her hand across her eyes, as if to convince herself that slie 
 was awake. 
 
 " ' Nothing! for you love me, and Andlau — you love no 
 longer ; for, if you still loved him, your eye would never 
 have alighted on me with any other than the indifferent 
 friendly glance you have for every body.' 
 
 * • • • • 
 
 " ' Oh, then, I am miserably false ! ' said she, in a hollow 
 voice. 
 
 " ' And what would vou be if you remained standinjr 
 between two men, fascinating both, belonging half to each, 
 wholly to neither ? And what would you be if you returned 
 back with a divided heart to him whom you have loved, and 
 said " I love anothei', but I will be true to you ? " You love 
 the good, the beautiful, the high, wherever you find it,
 
 THE COUNTESS IIAIIN-IIAIIN. 307 
 
 Fiuistine — that makes you so fascinating; and you are too 
 much the slave of the present to chain yourself lastingly to an 
 individual — that makes you weak. I will not defend this 
 weakness, because you might then reproach me with sophistry 
 or accuse me of speaking for my own interest. But trust 
 me-^if you were my sister, I would say the same. Untruth 
 is a torn, half, wavering existence — a contradiction in the 
 soul ; end it by a prompt decision, by an irrevocable step, 
 and you have freed yourself. Choose, choose, Faustine ! ' 
 cried Mario, and the composure with which he had hitherto 
 spoken was changed into the most troubled passion — ' now, 
 directly, on the spot! In half an hour, I leave this room, 
 and it depends on you whether I shall ever enter it again ; 
 for we cannot go on as formerly.' " 
 
 She still hesitates ; but his decision of character 
 controls her in her own despite, and he leads her to 
 the writing-table. 
 
 "'Now — write, Faustine.' 
 
 "'Oh God!' gasped she, and sank into the chair — 'I 
 cannot ! ' 
 
 " ' Then I must,' said Mario, composedly. 
 
 " ' Are you mad ? ' cried she, beside herself. * No ! no 
 hand but my own shall plunge the dagger into his heart; for 
 I am doing it, I know.' 
 
 " ' Yes,' said Mario ; ' his or mine.' 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 " ' See, you have no alternative. Granted you [dunged It 
 into mine, what would you do next ? Say nothing to 
 Andlau ? — That is not possible for you. Besides, he would 
 guess that you are not the same ; and, if he inquired, how 
 would you be able to play the hypocrite — to lie ? Suppose 
 you told him what has occurred. Do you believe he would 
 be able to shake off the impression? Were it a caprice on 
 your side — if, in an idle hour, you had amused yourself by 
 trifling with me — he might smile at it, and be comforted. 
 Can he now ? ' 
 
 " ' Never ! ' and she seized the pen. She wrote as 
 follows : — ' Anastasius, your last word at parting has come 
 true. I have forgotten you — no, not you, but myself. I 
 mean, I have forgotten that I could or would live in you 
 
 X 2
 
 308 THE COUNTESS IIAIIN-HAHN. 
 
 alone. We must never see each other again, Anastasius. 
 By this decision I ruin your life, and I do not even entreat 
 your forgiveness. You will know best Avhat to think of 
 Faustine.' " 
 
 On a former occasion, when Faustine playfully asked 
 Andlau to pay her the compliment of a little jealousy, 
 he replied — "You know that with me there can 
 never be any question of jealousy, because I acknow- 
 ledge no rival. I readily surrender to another the 
 property which he extends his hand to seize." He 
 acted up to his principle. No reply of any sort was 
 returned for many months ; but, as she said herself, 
 the letter was his death-warrant. 
 
 Faustine's aversion to matrimony is oyercome by 
 Meno-en's arojuments : — 
 
 " 'Do you suppose I could contentedly resign myself to an 
 equivocal connexion, open to every misconstruction, where 
 there is no reason for it beyond feminine caprice? Thousands 
 may do iiomage to you ; many may love you ; your husband 
 alone can protect and honour you, as you ought to be pro- 
 tected and honoured.' " 
 
 She promises to marry him as soon as he has ob- 
 tained the consent of his parents, and he departs. 
 Whilst he is absent, a harrowing incident occurs. 
 Clement Wallsdorf shoots himself in her presence for 
 love of her. Mario returns, snatches her from a scene 
 of horror, and marries her. 
 
 Here the regular narrative breaks off, and the 
 conclusion is related by the authoress in her own 
 person ; as she heard it from Mario, whom she meets 
 in Venice five or six years afterwards, with his child, 
 the child of Faustine. 
 
 They had lived happily beyond expectation for five 
 years, and Faustine was the pet, the pride of his 
 family. "Intellectual supremacy — which makes or- 
 dinary women so unendurable, that we feel them as a 
 troublesome appendage, something like an illustrious
 
 THE COUNTESS IIAIIN-IIAIIN. 309 
 
 name in poverty — seemed given her to show that the 
 most superior women can be the most amiable. She 
 quietly folded her wings to prevent others from feel- 
 ing they had none ; but, at the slightest encourage- 
 ment, she sjDread them and flew up, and caused the 
 etherial lustre, the bloom, of her region, to play down 
 into our circle." But there is a canker in the rose- 
 bud. She is restless without knowing why, and 
 teases Meno^en with fancies, which his strong- sfood 
 sense is unable to keep down. '' 11 n'y a de satisfaction 
 igi-bas que pour les ames, ou brutales ou divines!" she 
 exclaims with Montaigne, and longs for a cloister 
 where she may pour out her soul in prayer. "Mario, 
 to adore eternally — that would make me happy." 
 She has a fit of painting, and the pursuit of fame 
 diverts her for a time. With the proud consciousness 
 of genius, she would say : — 
 
 " ' The thirst for glory is a consciousness of futurity : he 
 who does not believe In his own future, deserves no present. 
 That my pictures may be simply in the taste of the day, and 
 therefore without a future, often wi^ighs heavily on my heart. 
 I know that I possess a precious treasure ; still, whether I 
 shall work it up into jewels, or coins, or what else, I know 
 not ; at least not precisely. We deceive ourselves In the 
 value of our productions, like mothers In the beauty of their 
 children. Petrarch expected Immortality from his poem 
 " Africa," and obtained It by his " Sonnets." It would be 
 lamentable If I left nothlne: behind me but '• Afrlcas." ' " 
 
 o 
 
 Mario tries the effect of a journey to the East. 
 The experiment answers whilst the novelty lasts, and 
 then she is as restless as ever. " I will travel no 
 more ; 1 know now that the earth is the same every- 
 where, and mankind too ; only the surface is varied ; 
 in one by climate, in another by temperament. The 
 new is always something old, and the something dif- 
 ferent is always the same. That can never satisfy." 
 In vain does he remind her that complete satisfaction is 
 
 X 3
 
 310 THE COUNTESS IIAIIN-HAIIN, 
 
 not to be expected, because never intended for us, on 
 earth ; — that if, by a miracle, every wish could be sa- 
 tisfied and every aim attained, she would weep, like 
 Alexander, for more Avorlds to conquer. In vain does 
 he endeavour to reanimate her former enthusiasm for 
 painting, poetry, and fame. 
 
 " ' To Avliat purpose ? ' was lier answer. ' That which is 
 not of the first class need not exist at all, and only two or 
 three books, and as many works of art, are of the first class. 
 Each of these made an era, struck out a path, gave a direc- 
 tion. This depended not on him who wrote, or painted, or 
 constructed them, lait on God's sending him into the world 
 at the very moment when an efficient instrument was needed.' 
 
 • ••«•■• 
 
 *' * You love me no longer ! ' I exclaimed with bitterness. 
 
 " ' Fool ! ' she replied, with that ecstatic smile which I 
 never saw on any brow but hers. ' Have you not touched 
 the tabernacle of my heart ? Is not my son yours ? No, 
 Mario, I love you ; I have loved nothing so much ; I shall 
 never love any thing after you, but above you — God. My 
 soul has squandered itself in such transports of love and inspi- 
 ration with yours, that all it can ever meet with in this region, 
 will be but a repetition, and perhaps — an insipid one. They 
 have so broken up my heart in searching for its treasures, that 
 the gold mines are probably exhausted. 
 
 " ' Dearest Mario, do not grudge me a little, a very little, 
 rest on this side of the grave ! If you did but know how 
 weary I am, you yourself would guide me to another path.' 
 
 " ' You are striking into a false one,' I replied, * for you are 
 about to be false to all your duties. Have you not vowed 
 before God to stay by me in weal and in woe ? Have you 
 not the childhood of your son to watch over, and his youth to 
 guide? Have you not your genius to cherish? — that gift, 
 more heavenly than any, because a voice of power, of truth, 
 of consolation for mankind. 
 
 *' ' Faustine, do not forget that the crown of thorns is 
 inseparable froih the crown of glory ; the deepest pangs have 
 given birth to the highest genius ! He who would rise again, 
 must suifer himself to be bound upon the cross ! He who 
 would asceud to heaven, must not fear the descent into hell.
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-IIAHN. 311 
 
 By what no;ht would you enjoy only the sunny side of 
 everything ? ' " 
 
 Her resolution is confirmed by a meeting with 
 Andlau, who dies of a disease in the chest, brought on 
 by the wound received from her husband. She 
 reaches his deathbed just time enough to see him die. 
 " She murmured in a scarcely audible tone, * A7ias- 
 tasius ; ' and he, who was insensible to everytliing else, 
 heard her voice, unclosed his eyes, smiled, tried to 
 reach out his hand towards her, uttered '/?22,' and 
 expired." 
 
 She entered a convent of the Vive Sepolte at Rome, 
 and died five months afterwards, a model of piety 
 and humility. 
 
 This, it must be allowed, is a fine, but wild concep- 
 tion ; and it may be true that there is nothing in 
 actual life resembling it ; — even in Germany, where 
 all varieties of female character are to be found in 
 much greater plenty than in any other country. 
 Nor is there anything in actual life resembling an 
 Undine, a Psyche, a Corinna, a Sylphide. These finer 
 natures — these creatures of the imagination and the 
 heart — are, and are meant to be, the verj^ opposite of 
 Wordsworth's household charmer — perhaps little less 
 poetical, and certainly more useful in her way : — 
 
 " A creature not too bright or good, 
 For human nature's daily food ; 
 For transient s^orrows, simple wiles, 
 Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles." 
 
 They must be tried by a diflferent standard ; and 
 the first questions in the present instance are : — 
 Was the author's object an artistical and legitimate 
 one, and is it attained by the book ? 
 
 She wanted a vehicle for developing her theory of 
 existence, her notions of genius, her reflections on the 
 mind, her experience of the heart. For this purpose 
 she frames a character, eccentric and fantastic, but 
 
 X 4
 
 312 THE COUNTESS IIAIIN IIAIIN. 
 
 full of life, light, and grace ; made up of many 
 qualities which are seldom found together — depth 
 and volatility, humility and self-confidence, truth and 
 fickleness ; and endowed Avith many gifts — feeling, 
 fancy, knowledge, thought, sensibility, beauty, genius 
 — which are as rarely united in one w'oman as the 
 mingled beauties of exulting Greece. Yet Madame 
 Hahn-Hahn has moulded them into a harmonious 
 whole, wdiich not merely satisfies the critic's judgment, 
 but (what is of more importance) keeps up the reader's 
 interest to the end. There are some episodical passages 
 and conversations which bear rather loosely on the 
 main story, but even these open glimpses, and suggest 
 reflections, which we should be sorry to have missed. 
 In a concluding paragraph, the author, addressing 
 a male companion, says : " Women like Faustine are 
 the avenging angels of our sex, which Providence 
 sends occasionally, but rarely, upon earth, and to 
 whom the best of you fall a prey ; for only the best 
 of you are prepared — as the mass of women are — 
 to give a heart for a heart, a life for a life, an entire 
 existence for an entire existence. — Beware of tlie 
 Faustines." This would be tantamount to saying, 
 " Beware of me, Ida, Griifin Hahn-Hahn," if the 
 report regarding the identity of the characters were 
 true ; but she indignantly repels the insinuation. In 
 a subsequent work *, a conversation takes place re- 
 garding " Georgiona," by "Griifin Schonholm," both 
 feigned names : — 
 
 " * I assure you she has cojiied herself and the incidents of 
 her life.' 
 
 " ' But nature cannot be copied : it must be conceived so 
 as to make part of the mind, in order to be naturally por- 
 trayed. Griifin Schonholm is said to be '* Georgiona," just 
 as Lord Byron was said to be Childe Harokl, and Madame 
 
 * Uh'Icb, vol. i. p. 225.
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHJT. 313 
 
 de Stael Corlnna. That is now become an establislied prac- 
 tice ; if an author writes with an air of reality, the incidents 
 are said to be real ; and what he has felt and lived inwardly, 
 he is supposed to have gone through in actual life.' " 
 
 In the same work (vol. ii. p. 19G) a sort of moral 
 is suggested : " Have not most women, in proportion 
 as they are more richly gifted, some resemblance to 
 Faustine, particularly in their thirst for emotion? 
 We get tired of a good, commonplace, matter-of-fact 
 mother of a family ; and an imaginative, fanciful, 
 fascinating woman, full of mind and sensibility, who 
 keeps us in a constant state of excitement, gets tired 
 of W5." In other words, in feeling as in mechanics, 
 what is gained in time or duration is lost in intensity 
 or strength : we cannot have it both ways : we can- 
 not keep our cake and eat it too ; or, to adopt the 
 more dignified language of Lord Byron, those who 
 cannot rest satisfied without an unbroken succession 
 of high-wrought emotions, must make up their minds 
 to be constantly Uuctuating " between the misery of 
 disappointment and the misery of satiety." 
 
 " Ulrich" is the work which, next to "Faustine," 
 has attracted most attention. The author has taken 
 a larger canvas, and crowded it with figures ; but 
 we lose in compactness what we gain in variety. We 
 also see in it, what is not unusual in her works, the 
 want of a settled purpose — a definite aim, at the 
 commencement : a defect which Sir ^^^alter Scott 
 frankly acknowledged in his own. 
 
 Three young ladies leave a celebrated establish- 
 ment in Heidel})erg on the same day : Unica, the 
 daughter of Count Erberg ; Clotilda, the daughter of 
 the Frankfort banker, Marana ; and Margarita, tlie 
 daughter of an impoverished widow of noble birth, 
 the Freifrau von Ringoltingen. Clotilda marries 
 Count Ostwald, an elderly, ugly, and weak-minded 
 man, for the sake of his title ; Margarita marries
 
 314 THE COUNTESS IIAIIN-IIAIIN. 
 
 Prince Thierstein, to please her mother ; Unica con- 
 tracts a girlish attachment for young Marana, the 
 banker's son ; but her proud parents will not hear of 
 such a union, and press her to marry her cousin, 
 Count Ulrich Erberg, the owner of the adjoining 
 chateau, for whom, at first, she feels no inclination. 
 
 " Ulrich, it must be owned, could not be termed hand- 
 some ; he had fine but strong features, a bilious comj)lexion, 
 eyebrows which almost touclied, and, together with his hair 
 and whiskers, darkened his face too much ; but the inde- 
 scribably noble expression of his brow, his fine figure, small 
 feet and hands (the inheritance of aristocracy), and simple 
 bearing, were far from making a disagreeable impression on 
 the whole." 
 
 We quote this description in an abridged shape, 
 because Ulrich may be regarded as Madame Hahn- 
 Hahn's beau-ideal of a lady-killer. Thus, although 
 he expresses little more than respectful affection for 
 Unica, and it is obvious that his thoughts are con- 
 stantly wandering, she consents to marry him, and 
 resolves to Avin his love. Her first step is a some- 
 what anomalous one for a bride. On reaching her 
 room, on the wedding night, he finds her gloved and 
 bonneted as for a walk ; — 
 
 " Ulrich's first movement was a step towards the door, his 
 second to pass his hand over his forehead, and throw back his 
 head, as he often did, when he sought to master an unpleasant 
 feeling. 
 
 " ' My dear Unica, have the goodness to tell me what this 
 means ? ' ^ 
 
 " She turned half round, and said, dryly and peremptorily, 
 ' I would be alone.' 
 
 " Ulrich gazed on her with an indescribable mixture of 
 pride and melancholy, and replied — * Why do you suddenly 
 drive me from you, Unica ? It gives me pain, and will do 
 you harm.' 
 
 " A gleam of triumph shot across her face, and in a more 
 decided tone she repeated — ' I would be alone.'
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAHN. 315 
 
 " ' You wish, then, to be alone now — and for ever,'' he 
 said, without sharpness, without bitterness, without ill- 
 humour, but with an unconquerable decisiveness. Unica 
 felt this. Twice had her resolution been shaken ; it should 
 not be so a third time. 
 
 " " ' JVoio, and for ever,^ she said. Ulricli bent his head 
 proudly, and retired to his own room." 
 
 There is an English novel of considerable merit in 
 which a union begins in the same manner, and ends 
 hap]3ily. Unica calculated on a similar result, and 
 meant merely to pique her husband into a passion for 
 her. Unfortunately, she had not calculated on the 
 effects of an early love affair, which, though transi- 
 tory in its duration, had left ineffaceable traces on 
 his heart. To quiet her fears on another account, he 
 relates it to her. 
 
 He begins with a remark which would seem to 
 imply, that Germany has lost a little of its character- 
 istic earnestness : — 
 
 " ' A man now-a-days can do nothing more unbecoming 
 — that is to say, nothing more laughable — than confess 
 himself to be mastered by a feeling. It is not merely the 
 men — even the women look upon him as a simpleton ; for 
 love, the passion, is out of fashion. It is no longer to satisfy 
 the heart, to absorb our existence, but to gratify our vanity, 
 and (when niatters come to the highest pass) our senses. No 
 La Valliere takes refuge with her rejected heart amongst 
 the Carmelites ; no De Kance flies to La Trappe after seeing 
 his beloved Duchesse de Montbazon in the pangs of death.' " 
 
 This view of the matter is a superficial and im- 
 l)atient one. Modern men and women are as capable 
 of passion as their forefathers ; hearts beat as wildly 
 under embroidered waistcoats as under steel cuirasses; 
 and love plays a much more important part in the 
 lives of most of us than we are willing to confess. 
 Who, for example, would have expected to find
 
 31G THE COUNTESS IIAIIN-IIAIIN. 
 
 Bentliam (see his " Memoirs "), in his eightieth year, 
 writing to the object of his first and only love, to 
 remind her of the present of a flower ! " From that 
 day not a single one has passed (not to mention 
 nights) in which you have not engrossed more of my 
 thoughts than I could have wished." If other men 
 of strong feelings could be induced to register their 
 emotions, we should probably soon have a series of 
 confessions as startling as Rousseau's. 
 
 Neither is it true that great sacrifices are unknown. 
 Not three years since a man of fortune, connexion, 
 and accomplishment, long past what is commonly 
 called the more susceptible period of life, but in the 
 full enjoyment of his faculties, suddenly retired from 
 the world in consequence of a disappointment of the 
 heart ; and he is now (1844) living in a small island, 
 uninhabited except by a solitary attendant and him- 
 self. The best knight that ever lived could do no 
 more for a duchess. 
 
 It is admitted that a few are still cast in the mould 
 of the olden time, and Ulrich is one of them. He 
 meets a beautiful unknown, named Melusina, on the 
 Lake of Como, and falls desperately in love with her. 
 She returns his passion, and they live very pleasantly 
 together for a month ; at the end of which her holi- 
 day is up ; and she leaves him as wise as when they 
 met regarding her family or position, after exacting 
 a promise that he will neither follow nor inquire for 
 her. Four years pass away, during which he thinks 
 of nothing else, when one morning he sees her in 
 Berlin with a child, whom he supposes to be his own. 
 The mystery is cleared up at the opera, where Melu- 
 sina happens to occupy the next box. She sees him, 
 faints away, and makes a scene. He carries her to 
 her carriage, and returns to his party. 
 
 " ' My dear Uh'icli,' whispered my aunt, as I resumed my 
 place beside her, * the attention of the whole audience is fixed 
 ou you.'
 
 THE COUNTESS IIAHN-HAIIX. 317 
 
 " ' So let it,' I replied unconcernedly. 
 
 " ' Butj good Heaven ! ' exclaimed she impatiently, ' do 
 you not know that you have given yourself en spectacle with 
 the mistress of the Minister ? ' 
 
 " I was spirit-broken, I am so still. Tlie object of my 
 worsliip is cast down into the dust where all may tread upon 
 it ; and yet I have found nothing on earth so beautiful as 
 Melusina. Between contempt and adoration, disgust and 
 longing — the bitterest and the sweetest feelings — I stand 
 powerless ; for I loathe the life in which nothing is so 
 beautiful as a painted lie." 
 
 Gratitude, or vanity, induces men to make ample 
 \' allowances for faults committed for their own dear 
 
 sakes ; and Ulrich had a perfect right to believe in 
 some kind of mystic pre-ordained union of souls, 
 which made it quite natural and proper for Melusina 
 to dispense with ceremony ; but surely it was a little 
 unreasonable to expect that a woman, whose acquaint- 
 ance he had formed under such peculiar circumstances, 
 would turn out a pattern of purity ; and instead of 
 fainting away and having a brain-fever, he should 
 have exclaimed, — 
 
 " I ask not, I know not, if guilt's in tbat heart, 
 I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art." 
 
 Ulrich's story is by no means consolatory to his 
 wife, but they get on pretty well till he pays a visit 
 to Prince Thierstein — a rough-mannered, narrow- 
 minded man, who has married Margarita, Unica's 
 schoolfellow, in the hope of continuing his race. She 
 enters the dining-room, and Ulrich is presented to 
 her. " Silently she received him, and silently, breath- 
 less, lost to everything around him, stood Ulrich ; for 
 Melusina, but Melusina without a shade of sin or 
 sorrow, Melusina, younger, brighter, stood before him 
 as Margaret, Princess of Thierstein." They are, in 
 fact, sisters, but this does not appear till long after- 
 "wards, when Ulrich has transferred his affections to
 
 318 THE COUNTESS IIAIIN-IIAIIN. 
 
 ]\largaret. Their attachment forms the grand fea- 
 ture of the book, and gives rise to a great variety of 
 scenes and reflections. The character of Margaret is 
 finished with great care ; and we must pause to quote 
 a passage : — 
 
 " Perhaps Ulrich alone knew what a deep knowledge of 
 things she possessed ; for in society she seldom gave vent to 
 her thoughts, and spoke with few words. ' I am not in the 
 same key Avith society,' she once said to Ulrich; * conse- 
 quently what I say is too high or too low for the general 
 symphony. I am obliged to perform solos, or duets with 
 you.' This neither amazed nor distressed her ; she neither 
 sought to catch the tone or gain the opinion of others. She 
 had the indifference of genuine superiority, namely, the most 
 complete indifference regarding the approbation of the mass. 
 Certain persons, sometimes acquire an extraordinary repu- 
 tation in the world for wit, talent, or genius. In general, 
 this proves nothing more than that they are of the precise 
 height which places them on a level with the crowd; both what 
 they are, and what they produce, exactly corresponds ivith its 
 demaiids. Were this more, or did they produce more, they 
 would instantly lose this happy equipoise, be out of propor- 
 tion to the measuring rod applied to them, and only be able 
 to compel the recognition of their superiority by over- 
 whelming proofs. The artist, the author, may give such 
 proofs ; but daily life, and the social circle, do not always 
 afford fine minds an opportunity for development." 
 
 After some months of dangerous intimacy, they 
 separate. " Remain far from me," are Margaret's 
 parting words, " till I call you, and this call will 
 first reach you from my grave." Ulrich writes her 
 an imprudent letter, which falls into her husband's 
 hands. He casts her ofl^, and she retires to live in a 
 small cottage in Switzerland with her child. Ulrich, 
 ignorant of the consequences of his imprudence, re- 
 solves to travel for some years, and, as a preliminary 
 measure, requires his wife to agree to a divorce. It 
 is at leno-th a^jreed between them, that thinirs shall
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAKN. 319 
 
 remain unaltered for the present ; but in case he 
 comes back within three years and renews the de- 
 mand, she shall consent. 
 
 After rambling for more than a year in Russia, he 
 arrives in Stockholm, where a returned letter, ad- 
 dressed by him to Margaret at her husband's liouse, 
 readies him. This makes him desperate, and he 
 devotes himself during several months to an opera- 
 singer, in the hope of driving Margaret from his 
 thoughts. Whilst at Stockholm he pays a visit to 
 the celebrated authoress, the Countess llda Scliunholm, 
 and it is difficult to believe that no living person is 
 intended. 
 
 " Uh'ich had heard a great deal about her, both praise and 
 blame ; had read all her books, and formed an image of her 
 in his own mind which by no means agreed with the original. 
 He possessed taste and penetration enough not to regard a 
 woman who had written a book as a caricature on body and 
 soul ; but involuntarily he had made the imposing de Stael 
 — with her genius, her passion, her vanity, her goodness, 
 her fancy, her enthusiasm — his type of an authoress ; 
 and turned llda into a German de Stael. Not a trace of 
 it. Composed and simple, firm without haughtiness, neg- 
 ligent without affectation, indifferent regarding the impres- 
 sion which she made, she did not give herself the smallest 
 trouble to attract attention. Whether she disdained the 
 littleness of the means used to produce an effect, or found 
 the end too petty, or had the intimate conviction of a 
 superiority which repels the many and attracts a few — but 
 attracts them irresistibly, as the loadstone the steel, — • 
 suffice it to say, not a word, not a syllable, not the most 
 distant indication, betrayed her talent and her customary 
 occupations." 
 
 The causes of the differences between authors and 
 their works are explained, in a very striking Essay, 
 in Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton's "Student." The 
 secret of Madame Hahn- Halm's anxiety to dissipate 
 some supposed delusion on this subject, is the pre-
 
 320 THE COUNTESS IIAnN-IIAIIX. 
 
 « 
 
 judice still prevalent amongst the highest classes in ] 
 
 Germany against female authorship. 
 
 Ilda wears a gown of black velvet, with plain 
 wristbands and collar ; and here we may take occa- 
 sion to observe that Madame Hahn-Halm seldom 
 fails to give a minute description of the dresses of 
 her favourites ; rightly thinking it impossible to con- 
 vey an exact impression of the person without the 
 dress. She also attaches considerable importance to 
 the feet, and has propounded a new theory regarding 
 them, which may serve as a pendent or counterpoise 
 to Lord Byron's regarding hands, which (his own 
 being small and well-shaped) he declared. to be the 
 only mark of birth which aristocracy can generate. 
 Madame Hahn-Hahn says: — 
 
 " There is much more physiognomy in the feet than in the 
 hands. The hands are so ill-treated, so practised in co- 
 quetry, so ruined by artistical skill — the piano turns the 
 fingers into little knobs — that a hand seldom preserves its 
 original character from the levelling effect of daily use ; and 
 when it does, it is not what is commonly called a handsome 
 hand. That must be plump, round, smooth, white as 
 marble, and marked with blue veins. I have an antipathy 
 to such a one : the thought of touching it chills me ; it has 
 something of the smoothness of the snake, the coldness of the 
 fish, and at times I fancy, if geese had no wings, they would 
 have just such hands. The foot has remained in its primitive 
 state. The princess may destroy it by too much care, and 
 the peasant girl by neglect ; still it must support the body ; 
 it is in keeping with it as the base with the pillar ; and its 
 tread, its bearing, correspond with the character of the 
 person. If I had a taste for solid pursuits, I would set up 
 my system against craniology." 
 
 We need hardly add, that Ilda Grafin Schonholm 
 is described as having well-formed, tapering, thorough- 
 bred feet. 
 
 Just as Ulrich is getting tired of his opera-singer, 
 he receives a letter, signed " Melusiua," informing him
 
 THE COUNTESS ITAHN-HAIIJT. 321 
 
 that Margaret, thrown off and abandoned on his 
 account, is living near Yevay. It now appears that 
 they are sisters. Melusina eloped at sixteen with a 
 man who subsequently abandoned her at Paris ; 
 where she became acquainted with an elderly diplo- 
 matist, who, during his life, protected her as a parent, 
 and left her a good fortune at his death. This was 
 the Ambassador with whom Ulrich had seen her at 
 Berlin. Ulrich leaves Stockholm, procures Unica's 
 consent to a divorce, and travels post-haste to Vevay, 
 where he finds Melusina dying, and Ma^^garet watch- 
 ing over her. Melusina joins their hands, and dies. 
 
 When Voltaire wished to depreciate Rousseau, he 
 made a short abstract of the plot of "La Nouvelle 
 Heloise," and headed it De ce qui se fait dans le livre 
 de Jean Jacques. He could not have hit on a more 
 effective method of conveying an injurious impression 
 of a work of manners or feeling ; particularly when, 
 as in the work before us, the bare incidents require a 
 good deal of shading, to prevent harsh inferences from 
 being founded on them. 
 
 Let it be remembered then, that, since both law 
 and custom legitimate a marriage with the sister of 
 a deceased wife in Germany, there is no more harm in 
 Ulrich's becoming attached to the two sisters suc- 
 cessively than to any other two women. Neither 
 must the comparative carelessness with which the 
 marriao'e tie is dissolved, be charo-ed altoirether to 
 the account of the individual ; for it is principally 
 attributable to the facility with which divorces are 
 obtained. In Prussia, there are fifteen distinct grounds 
 of divorce a vinculo matrimonii enumerated in the 
 Code, any one of which is sufficient; — the infidelity 
 of either party, incompatibility of temper, and mutual 
 consent, being of the number. 
 
 Prussia is indebted to Frederick IL for the existiufr 
 laxity of its laws in this respect. The other Pro- 
 
 VOL. I. Y
 
 322 THE COUNTESS IIAIIN-IIAIIN. 
 
 testant states retain, nominallj^, most of the pristine 
 strictness ; but v/hether from the influence of ex- 
 ample, or other local causes, they are practically as 
 loose as their neighbour. AVhen a couple are anxious 
 to be free, it is simply necessary for one of them to 
 be detected in an equivocal situation (it need not be 
 one of positive guilt), and their wishes may be 
 gratified. AVhat is there wanted is a more careful 
 inquiry into cases of collusion, which, ^vhen known, 
 and recognised as such, are not even attended with 
 much danger to reputation. 
 
 Opinions may vary as to the degree of strictness 
 with which the marriage vow should be maintained ; 
 but it is impossible not to see that the tie must lose 
 its sacredness, if it is liable to be set aside on the 
 first growth of a new inclination — the first feeling of 
 satiety — the first discovery of a difi'erence in taste or 
 temper — or (for it all comes to this) the first sug- 
 gestion of caprice. Indeed, we are quite sure that 
 not one couple in ten ever lived together, for a series 
 of years, without intervals of struggle — without 
 hours, days, weeks, when it required all their firm- 
 ness, all their good sense, all their consciousness of 
 the true nature of their position, to induce them to 
 bear and forbear, till the habit of mutual concession 
 became a pleasure, and the basis of a fixed afi^ection 
 had been laid. It stands to reason that the public 
 opinion of Germany must be in a loose state re- 
 garding marriage, and we must not blame the 
 novelist for representing types of her country and 
 her time. 
 
 It is satisfactory to be able to say, that Madame 
 Hahn-Iiahn is not one of those writers who exhaust 
 themselves in two or three effbrts ; who hoard up a 
 limited stock of thought and observation, pour it 
 all into their first books, and remain dry and unpro- 
 ductive during the remainder of their days. AVe are 
 
 I
 
 THE COUNTESS HAHN-HAIIN. S23 
 
 by no means sure that her last book, " Cecil," is not 
 her best both in conception and execution, though 
 parts of it are spun out to tediousness. Moreover, 
 it opens new ground, being an attempt to trace the 
 influence of worldliness — that sort of worldliness 
 which honourable and enlightened parents would 
 think it right to encourage in a son — on a man of 
 talent and sensibility, who has his fortune to make. 
 The effect is judiciously heightened by contrast. The 
 most prominent female character is a woman who 
 consults only her own sense of duty, and uniformly 
 does what she thinks right, without reference to 
 opinion or the slightest regard to consequences. We 
 cannot afford room for a detailed examination ; and 
 with regard to the rest of the novels named in our 
 list, we can only say that they are all distinguished, 
 more or less, by the same qualities as " Faustine " and 
 " Ulrich ; " and that it is necessary to read all, in 
 order thoroughly to enjoy any one; since (like 
 Balzac's " Scenes de la Vie Privee) all the stories are 
 connected, and form something like a succession of 
 tableaux. Thus, the Countess Schonholm, who holds 
 such long conversations with Ulrich at Stockholm, and 
 his correspondent Ohlen, are leading personages in 
 " Aus der Gesellschaft " and " Der Kechte; " and the 
 fate of Sigismund Forster, in the story of that name, 
 materially influences the fortunes of " Cecil." It is 
 obviousthat these occasional renewals of intimacy with 
 old acquaintance may be made extremely agreeable ; 
 and in the cases before us, the contrivance has been 
 skilfully and not too frequently employed. 
 
 It was part of our design at starting, to endeavour 
 to deduce some general rules regarding German 
 morals and manners from these books ; but had we 
 space at present, it would be neither fair nor logical 
 to found any broad conclusion or comparison on so 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 THE COUNTESS HAIIN-IIAIIN. 
 
 slender a basis, as the writings of a single author.* 
 Her countrymen and countrywomen would certainly 
 have no reason to complain ; for both conclusion and 
 comparison would be favourable to them. The tone 
 of the best society, in most of their great towns, 
 would appear to be remarkable for ease, good taste, 
 readiness to amuse and be amused, and for the marked 
 discoura^-ement, if not total absence, of offensive 
 pretension, or exclusiveness. There is the usual 
 allowance of trifling and gossiping ; examples of pre- 
 judice, ignorance, and vanity are not wanting, and 
 much of the conversation is made up of conventional 
 conmionplaces : yet it is impossible to help feeling 
 that social intercourse stands on a sound rational 
 basis, and has attained a high degree of refinement 
 and agreeableness. This is probably nearly the same 
 all the world over among the best of the higher 
 classes, who are now everywhere found coalescing 
 with all that is really worth cultivating among the 
 rest. Still, curious points of difi'erence, affecting 
 manners or morals, might be selected. 
 
 For example, an Englishwoman seldom leaves her 
 house unattended, or without a chaperon., and would be 
 seriously compromised were she to travel much with a 
 man not nearly related to her. In Germany, a woman 
 may undertake a journey, of any length or duration, 
 with a male friend of any age, without compromising 
 herself; that is, if their vocations really call them the 
 same way, and the journey be not undertaken as a 
 blind. The Germans, in short, do not take for 
 granted that opportunity will necessarily create incli- 
 nation ; or that friends will be converted into lovers 
 
 * The best account of the habits and manners of the eastern and north- 
 eastern parts of Germany will be found in a novel in three volumes, 
 Soil und Haben, by Gustavus Freytag, admirably translated by Mrs. 
 Malcolm, and published under the title of Debt and Credit It has merits 
 of a high order, besides graphic descriptions of every-day life, and forms 
 a marked contrast to the common run of German novels.
 
 TUE COUNTESS IIAIIN-IIAIIN. 325 
 
 by sitting together in a carriage during the daytime 
 and occupying apartments in the same hotel at night. 
 In one novel, we find a countess travelling with a 
 handsome young artist : in another, an aged Presi- 
 dent gives his wife full permission to travel with a 
 young member of his court ; and we find, on inquiry, 
 that such occurrences would excite no more comment 
 in actual life than in Madame Hahn-Hahn's pages. The 
 same liberty is enjoyed by women in the United 
 States. Tn England, however, when a middle-aged 
 nobleman, of grave habits, happens to state, in a letter 
 to a Bishop, (a curious confidant for a liaison,) that 
 he has been taking a ten days' tour with an accom- 
 plished female friend, his excellent and right reverend 
 editor feels it a duty to bear personal testimony to 
 the purity of her intentions.* It might be made an 
 instructive question, how far the strictness of the 
 English rule indicates a superior state of morals, or 
 the contrary. 
 
 The best of Madame Hahn-Hahn's books of Travels 
 are her "Reisebriefe," being Letters to various mem- 
 bers of her family (from October 1840, to November 
 1841), describing a journey across the Proven9al 
 country, over the Pyrenees, and through the greater 
 part of Spain and Portugal. AYith an enthusiastic 
 love for the fine arts, a marked preference for the 
 romance of liistory, and a mind crowded with asso- 
 ciations, she carries us along lightly and pleasantly 
 enough. We may not have to thank her for much 
 constitutional or statistical information ; but we learn 
 the aspect of the cities and the habits of the people ; 
 pick up some agreeable reminiscences about Moors 
 and Troubadours ; acquire a fresh feeling for Velas- 
 quez and Murillo, as well as a fresh relish for Don 
 Quixote and Gil Bias; are made eyewitnesses oiauto- 
 
 * Letters of the Earl of Dudley to tbe Bishop of LlandalT, p. 353. 
 
 Y 3
 
 326 THE COUNTESS HAIIN-IIAIIN. 
 
 da-fes and bull-fights ; and find the Alhanibra restored 
 for our especial benefit. 
 
 " Astralion, an Arabesk," is a little dramatic Poem, 
 in which the dramatis iJersonce are birds, Avho talk in 
 good rhymed verse on several subjects not connected 
 ■with ornithology. 
 
 Madame Hahn-IIahn visited England, S(;otland, and 
 Ireland, in 1846, and made our social institutions, 
 especially those affecting the well-being of the lower 
 classes, her especial object of study. She embodied 
 her observations in a work, which was forwarded in 
 manuscript from Naples to the writer of these pages, 
 upon an understanding that he was to engage a trans- 
 lator and a publisher. Through some unaccountable 
 oversight of the Foreign office, the MS. never reached 
 him till two years afterwards, by which time Madame 
 Hahn-Hahn had lost all interest in it, and it was 
 consequently returned to her. During the interven- 
 ing period, a domestic affliction had induced her to 
 join the Roman Catholic (the AUemseligmachende) 
 Church, and to take up her residence in a convent at 
 Mayence. She is as anxious as ever to be practically 
 useful ; and only a few months since she wrote to 
 him for information touching an important question 
 in morals and industry. Since her conversion, she 
 has published two remarkable works, " Marien Bilder" 
 (Hymns to the Virgin), and " Nach Babylon," which 
 has been translated into English. 

 
 327 
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (HENRI BEYLE). 
 
 (From the Edinburgh Review, January, 1856 ) 
 
 1. Bihliotlieque Contemporaine. 2® Serie. De Stendhal. 
 Q^^uvres completes. Paris; 1854-55. 
 
 2. Romans et Nouvelles. Precedes d'une Notice sur De 
 Stendhal, par M. B. Colomb. 1 vol. 
 
 3. Correspondance Incdite. Precedee d'une Introduction, 
 par Prosper Merimee, de I'Acadi^mie Fran9aise ; ornee 
 d'un beau Portrait de Stendhal. 2 vols. 
 
 The literary career of Henri Beyle, who wrote under 
 the pseadonyme of M. de Stendhal, deserves to be 
 commemorated, if only as a curious illustration of 
 the caprice of criticism ; or it may be cited in proof 
 of the occasional readiness of contemporaries to fore- 
 stall the judgment of posterity, when there is no longer 
 a living and sentient object for their jealousy. His 
 habits were simple, his tastes were of a nature to be 
 easily and cheaply gratified, and his pecuniary wants 
 were consequently of the most modest description. He 
 would have been content, he tells us, to rub on with 
 4000 francs a year at Paris ; he would have thought 
 himself rich with GOOO; and in an autobiographical 
 sketch he says, " The only thing I see clearly is, that 
 for twenty years my ideal has been to live at Paris in 
 a fourth story, writing a, drama or a novel." This 
 ideal was never realised, because the booksellers and 
 theatrical managers would not, or could not, bid high 
 enough for dramas or novels from his pen ; and he 
 was eventually compelled to accept the consulship of 
 Civita Vecchia, where the closing period of his life 
 was shortened by the diseases of the climate, as well 
 
 Y 4
 
 828 M. 1)E IsTKNDIIAL ( HENRI BEVLE). 
 
 as embittered by disappointment and ennui. There 
 occurred, indeed, one striking exception to this gene- 
 ral indifference. In the " Revue Parisienne " of Sep- 
 tember 23rd, 1840, appeared a long and carefully 
 written article, entitled an " Etude sur H. Beyle," by 
 l-alzac, in whicli "La Chartreuse de Parme " was 
 declared to be a masterpiece, and its author was 
 described as one of the finest observers and most 
 original writers of the age. But although elaborately 
 reasoned out, and largely supported by analysis and 
 quotation, this honourable outburst of enthusiasm 
 was commonly regarded as an extravagance into 
 which Balzac had been hurried by an exaggeration of 
 generosity towards a fancied rival ; ajid Beyle's 
 courteous letter of acknowledgment contains the 
 following sentence, showing how little disposed he 
 was to overestimate his position or his hopes : — 
 " This astounding article, such as no writer ever 
 before received from another, I have read, I now 
 venture to own to you, with bursts of laughter. 
 Every time I came to a eulogium a little exalted, and 
 I encountered such at every step, I saw the expression 
 of my friends' faces at reading it." 
 
 Could he awake from the dead and see his friends' 
 faces now^, his characteristic smile of irony, rather 
 than loud laughter, would be the form in which his 
 feelings might be most appropriately expressed ; for 
 those friends have not waited till 1880, the earliest 
 era at which he expected to be read ; they have barely 
 exceeded the time prescribed by Horace — nonumque 
 prematur in annum — for testing the soundness of a 
 work. Beyle died in 1842, and few beyond the very 
 limited circle of his intimates then seemed aware that 
 'a chosen spirit had departed, or that a well of valuable 
 thought and a fountain of exquisite sensibility had 
 been dried up. One solitary garland of immortelles 
 was flung upon his grave. An essay on his life and
 
 M, DE STENDHzlL (liENlU BETLe). 329 
 
 character, by M. Auguste Bussiere, appeared in the 
 " Revue des Deux Mondes " for January, 1843 ; but 
 the first paragraph was an avowal of the hazardous 
 character of the attempt : — 
 
 " We approach a task which is at the same time 
 both embarrassing and seducing, that of appreciating 
 a man of talent whose upright character and original 
 qualities seemed to promise a greater extent of in- 
 fluence than he has exercised on his contemporaries. 
 AYe shall encounter in this mind and in this character 
 odd specialities, strange anomalies, contradictions 
 which will explain how, after having been more 
 vaunted than read, more read than relished, more 
 decried than judged, more cited than known, he has 
 lived, if the expression may be used, in a sort of 
 clandestine celebrity, to die an obscure and unmarked 
 death. Contemporary literature, it must be owned, 
 has found before the tomb of one of its most distin- 
 guished cultivators, only silence, or words worse than 
 silence. M. Beyle dead, all has been said for him. 
 His remains have not seen their funeral attendance 
 swelled by those regrets which delight in display, and 
 which come to seek under the folds of the pall a re- 
 flexion of the lustre shed by the living." 
 
 Unlike the noble English poet, who, after an ordinary 
 night's sleep, awoke and found himself famous, Beyle 
 must have slumbered thirteen years, dating from the 
 commencement of his last, long sleep, before he could 
 have calculated on a similar surprise on waking. 
 But his hour has come at last, and come sooner than 
 he anticipated. We have now before us popular 
 and cheap editions of almost all Ids books (thirteen 
 volumes), in addition to two closely printed volumes 
 of correspondence, and three volumes of novels from 
 his unpublished MSS., bearing striking evidence to 
 the assiduity with which every scrap of his composition 
 has been hunted up. We have, moreover, a somewhat
 
 330 M. DE STENDHAL (lIENRl BEYLe). 
 
 embarrassing superfluity of biographical notices from 
 surviving friends, who, whatever their amount of 
 agreement with Balzac in 1840, have no objection to 
 respond to the popular demand for Beyle testimonials 
 in 1855. Prefixed to the " Correspondance " is a 
 condensed and pithy series of clever, polished, highly 
 illustrative, and by no means enthusiastic, notes and 
 reminiscences by M. ]\Ierimee. M. Sainte-Beuve has f 
 
 devoted two papers, distinguished by his wonted re- 
 finement and penetration, to Stendhal, in the " Cau- 
 series de Lundi." An extremely interesting biogra- 
 phical notice, drawn up by M. Colomb, Beyle's most 
 attached friend and executor, from private papers and 
 other authentic sources of information, is prefixed to 
 the " Romans et Nouvelles ; " and by way of preface 
 or introduction to the " Chartreuse de Parme," the 
 publishers have judiciously reprinted the long-ne- 
 glected eloge of Balzac. 
 
 As if to complicate the problem, Beyle's critics and 
 biographers announce and claim him as " eminently 
 French," although he systematically ridiculed the 
 vanity of his countrymen, reviled their taste, disliked 
 the greater part of their literature, and, deliberately 
 repudiating his country as " le plus vilain pays du 
 monde que les nigauds appellent la belle France," 
 directed himself to be designated as Milanese on his 
 tombstone. Here is enough, and more than enough, 
 to justify us in devoting our best attention to the 
 social and intellectual phenomenon thus presented, — 
 to say nothing of the interest we naturally take in 
 the reputation of an author who, in straitened cir- 
 cumstances, ordered the complete collection of " mon 
 cher " Edinburgh Review, and appealed to its extended 
 circulation as an unanswerable proof that the English 
 are more reasonable in politics than the French. 
 
 Marie-Henri Beyle was born at Grenoble, on the 
 23rd of January, 1788, of a family which, without
 
 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLE). 331 
 
 being noble, was classed and lived familiarly with the 
 provincial aristocracy. One of his earliest preceptors 
 was a priest, who sadly misunderstood and mis- 
 managed his pupil. " Beyle," says M. Merimee, 
 " was wont to relate with bitterness, after forty 
 years, that one day, having torn his coat whilst at 
 play, the Abbe entrusted with his education repri- 
 manded him severely for this misdeed before his 
 comrades, and told him he was a disgrace to religion 
 and to his family. We laughed when he narrated 
 this incident ; but he saw in it simply an act of 
 priestly tyranny and a horrible injustice, where there 
 was nothing to laugh at, and he felt as acutely as on 
 the day of its occurrence the wound inflicted on his 
 self-love." It was one of his aphorisms that our 
 parents and our masters are our natural enemies 
 when we enter the world ; the simple matter of fact 
 being, that his own character, tendencies, and aspira- 
 tions had been invariably opposed to the plans, 
 wishes, and modes of thinking of his family. They 
 were clearly wrong in endeavouring to force him into 
 uncongenial paths of study; nor was he likely to be 
 cured of his inborn wilfulness, or his morbid sensibi- 
 lity, by harsh treatment. On the establishment of 
 the Ecole Centrale, in 1795, they had no alternative 
 but to send him there; and such was his quickness 
 or diligence, that when the day arrived for the ex- 
 aminations in " grammaire generale," not one of the 
 pupils could compete with him, and he received 
 all the prizes that had been proposed. 
 
 During the four following years he sustained his 
 reputation by carrying off all the first prizes in all 
 the courses that he attended ; and at the end of that 
 time, in 1798, he concentrated his energies on mathe- 
 matics for (according to M. Colomb) the strange 
 reason that he had a horror of hypocrisy, and rightly 
 judged that in mathematics it was impossible. A
 
 332 M. DE STENDHAL (HENIU BEYLE). 
 
 more intelligible and more likely motive was his 
 laudable ambition to be admitted into the Polytechnic 
 School, for which he was about to become a candidate 
 after much anxious preparation, when a sudden change 
 took place in his prospects ; and we find him in 1800, 
 at the age of seventeen, a supernumerary in the 
 ministry of war. He was indebted for this employ- 
 ment to the Daru family, which was distantly related 
 to his own ; and when, early in the same year, the 
 two brothers Daru were despatched to Italy on public 
 duty of an administrative kind, they invited Beyle to 
 rejoin them there on the chance of some fitting occu- 
 pation for him turning up. He made the journey 
 from Geneva to Milan on horseback, following so 
 close on the traces of the invading army, that he had 
 to run the gauntlet before the fort of Bard, which, 
 overlooked from its insignificance, had wellnigh 
 frustrated the most brilliant of Napoleon's early 
 campaigns at starting. 
 
 Our young adventurer entered Milan at the be- 
 ginning of June, 1800 ; and, on the 14th of the 
 same month, had the good fortune to be present, 
 as an amateur, at the battle of Marengo. An 
 armistice having been signed the next day, he took 
 advantage of it to visit, in company with a son 
 of General Melas, the Boromean Isles and the other 
 remarkable objects in the vicinity. Hurried away, 
 we suppose, by the military spirit which animated all 
 around him, Beyle entered a regiment of dragoons 
 as quartermaster ; and, in the course of a month, 
 received a commission as sub-lieutenant. He served 
 for about half a year as aide-de-camp to General 
 Michaud, and received the most flattering certificate 
 of courage and conduct; but before the expiration 
 of a year (on September 17th, 1801) he was ordered 
 to rejoin his regiment, then in garrison at Savigliano, 
 in Piedmont, in consequence of a regulation forbid-
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (hENRI BEYLE). 333 
 
 ding any officer under the rank of lieutenant to be 
 employed as aide-de-camp. 
 
 His life in a provincial town differed widely from 
 that of the brilliant staff-officer, which, divided be- 
 tween Brescia and Bergamo, with frequent excursions 
 to Milan and the Isles, and thickly sown, says liis bio- 
 grapher, Avith various and romantic sensations, realised 
 his conceptions of perfect happiness. So soon as the 
 treaty of Amiens afforded him an honourable pretext 
 for quitting an inactive and unexciting course of life 
 in the army, he flung up his commission very much 
 to the disgust of his patrons, and went to reside with 
 his parents at Grenoble. Of course this experiment 
 failed, but he made himself sufficiently disagreeable 
 to extort an allowance of 150 francs a month from 
 his father with leave to live at Paris, where, in June, 
 1807, he took up his elevated abode {au cinquieme) 
 in the Rue d'Angivilliers, and without seeking for 
 introductions or aiming at immediate distinction, 
 calmly and resolutely set about educating himself 
 anew. Montesquieu, Montaigne, Cabanis, Destutt 
 de Tracy, Say, J. J. Rousseau, were his favourite 
 authors. He also made a careful study of Alfieri's 
 tragedies ; and out of his five francs a day he con- 
 trived to pay masters in English and fencing. He 
 got on tolerably well in English, although his in- 
 structor was an Irishman with a touch of the brogue ; 
 but his skill with the foil was of so equivocal a des- 
 cription, that Renouvier, the director of the Salle 
 Fabien, is reported to have given him nearly the same 
 advice which was addressed to a British peer by a 
 celebrated French fencing master, when his lordship 
 was settling account with him at the conclusion of 
 a long series of lessons at a napoleon per hour : 
 " Milord, je vous conscille decidement d'abandonner 
 les armes." 
 
 Beyle's figure was ill adapted for active exercises ;
 
 334 M. DE STENDHAL (hENRI BEYLE). 
 
 but his nerves, which grew tremulous at the slightest 
 touch of emotion, were firm as steel in the presence of 
 danger ; his eye was good, and he attained to such 
 proficiency with the pistol as to be able once, when 
 anxious to display his skill, to bring down a bird 
 upon the wing at forty yards' distance. The reputa- 
 tion thus acquired (perhaps by a happy accident) was 
 far from useless for a man of his character, who was 
 then daily liable to be called to account for the indis- 
 creet indulgence of his peculiar humour. Towards 
 the conclusion of his career he writes : " I ought to 
 have been killed a dozen times for epigrams or mots 
 piquants that cannot be forgotten ; and yet 1 have 
 received only three wounds, — two of wJiich are of 
 little consequence, those in the hand and the left foot." 
 One of his maxims was, to seize the first occasion for 
 a duel on entering life ; and his recipe for a first 
 duel, which he pronounced infallible, runs thus: 
 " Whilst your adversary is taking his aim, look at a 
 tree, and begin counting the leaves. One preoccupa- 
 tion will distract from another of a graver kind. 
 Whilst taking aim yourself, recite two Latin verses ; 
 this will prevent you from firing too quickly, and 
 neutralise that five per cent, of emotion which has 
 sent so many balls twenty feet above the mark." 
 
 About this time (1803) Beyle formed the curious 
 project of writing a comedy, in one act and in prose, 
 to confute the critical canons of the celebrated Geof- 
 froy. It was to be called " Quelle Horreur ! Ou, 
 I'ami du despotisme pervertisseur de I'opinion pub- 
 lique." He worked at it, from time to time, for ten 
 or twelve years ; and then definitively abandoned it. 
 In 1805 he renewed the experiment of domestic life 
 at Grenoble, which this time was curiously and cha- 
 racteristically interrupted. He fell in love with an 
 actress ; and, on her leaving Grenoble on a profes- 
 sional engagement for JMarseilles, he pretended a sud-
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (flENRI BEYLE ). 335 
 
 den inclination for commerce, and became clerk to a 
 Marseilles firm of dealers in colonial produce, with 
 ■whom he remained a year, when the lady married a 
 rich Russian magnate, and Beyle returned to Paris. 
 Having contracted a fixed taste for intellectual pur- 
 suits, he was with difficulty persuaded by his friends, 
 the Darus, to attach himself once more to their for- 
 tunes. He complied, however, and rejoined them in 
 Germany, where he was present, as a non-combatant, 
 at the battle of Jena and witnessed the triumphant 
 entry of Napoleon into Berlin in 1806. A few days 
 after this event. Count Daru (the father) procured 
 for Beyle the place of intendant of the domains of the 
 Emperor in Brunswick, which he held two years, 
 profiting by his residence in the Duchy to study the 
 German language and philosophy. Here, again, he 
 gave signal proof of both moral and physical courage. 
 He put down an insurrection in a town, the garrison 
 of which had just quitted it, by the bold expedient of 
 arming the invalid soldiers left behind in a hospital, 
 and suddenly leading them against the crowd. An 
 instance of his energy as an administrator is thus 
 related by M. Merimee: — 
 
 " According to liis wonted mode of showing himself worse 
 than he was, he affected to despise the entliusiasm that made 
 the men of his epoch do such great things. ' We had tlie 
 sacred fire,' he observed, ' and I among the rest, though un- 
 worthy. I had been sent to Brunswick, to levy an extraor- 
 dinary contribution of five millions. I raised seven millions, 
 and I narrowly escaped being torn in pieces by the populace, 
 who were exasperated at the excess of my zeal. The Em- 
 peror inquired the name of the auditor who had so acted, 
 and said ' C'est bien.'" 
 
 It would have been difficult to discover another 
 auditor similarly circumstanced, who would have re- 
 frained from putting into his own pocket one, at least, 
 of the two extra millions ; and it is far from clear
 
 336 M. DE STENDHAL (lIENRI BEYLE). 
 
 that the Emperor would have trusted or respected 
 him less on that account, so long as the imperial 
 demands were fully answered. Napoleon commonly 
 knew to a fraction the amount of the illicit gains of 
 liis functionaries, as the famous contractor Ouvrard 
 discovered to his cost. This man was once foolish 
 enough to bet that Mademoiselle Georges would sup 
 with him instead of keeping her known engagement 
 to sup, on a specified night, at the Tuileries. He 
 overcame her scruples by a bribe of 200,000 francs, 
 and won his wager. The day following, he was or- 
 dered to attend the Emperor, and was thus quietly 
 addressed : — " M. Ouvrard, you have gained five mil- 
 lions by your contracts for the supply of the army in 
 Spain : you will pay two into the imperial Treasury 
 without delay." He paid therefore eighty thousand 
 pounds for his caprice or vanity. This state of things 
 and tone of feeling must be kept in mind in appre- 
 ciating a man like Beyle, who, a confirmed voluptuary, 
 after dealing with millions in times of commotion 
 and confusion, died in exile because he could never 
 muster capital enough to secure an annuity of 160/. 
 a year. 
 
 In his capacity of auditor he was attached to the 
 grand army during the invasion of Russia, and had 
 his full share of the glories, dangers, and privations 
 of the retreat. He was among the few, says M. 
 Merimee, who, on this trying occasion, never forfeited 
 the respect of others. One day, not far from the 
 Beresina, Beyle presented himself, shaved and care- 
 fully dressed, before his chief: " You have shaved as 
 usual, I see," observed M. Daru ; " you are a brave 
 man {un homme de coeur).''^ In a letter from Moscow 
 he has given one of the most graphic and picturesque 
 accounts we are acquainted with of the fire. It con- 
 cludes thus • — 
 
 \
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (hENRI BEYLe). 337 
 
 " We left the city lighted up by the finest conflagration 
 in the world, forming an immense pyramid, which, like the 
 prayers of the faithful, had its base on earth and its summit 
 in heaven. The moon appeared above this atmosphere of 
 flame and smoke. It was an imposing spectacle, but one 
 ought to have been alone, or surrounded by men of mind, to 
 enjoy it. That Avhich has spoilt the Russian campaign for 
 me, is to have made it with people who would have common- 
 placed the Coliseum and the Bay of Naples." 
 
 He said he had not suffered so very much from 
 hunger during the retreat, but found it impossible to 
 recall to memory how he had procured food, or what 
 he had eaten, with the exception of a lump of tallow, 
 for which he paid twenty francs, and which he 
 always recollected with delight. Before setting out 
 on this expedition he deemed it prudent to take espe- 
 cial precautions against the want of ready money. 
 His sister replaced all the buttons of a surtout by 
 gold pieces of twenty and forty francs, covered with 
 cloth. On his return she asked if this expedient had 
 answered. He had never once thought of it since his 
 departure. By dint of taxing his memory, he re- 
 called a vague impression of having given the old 
 surtout to the waiter of an inn near Wilna, with the 
 gold buttons sewed up as at Paris. This incident, 
 observes M. Colomb, is truly illustrative, for Beyle 
 was excessively given to precaution, without a parallel 
 for forgetfulness, and reckless to the last degree. 
 
 He abided faithfully by the declining fortunes of 
 Napoleon, and did good service in the crisis of 1814; 
 but he was destined never to enjoy the reward of his 
 devotion ; and when the crash came, he bore his ruin 
 with so philosophical an air, that many superficial 
 observers openly accused him of ingratitude and ter- 
 giversation. The best answer to such charges was 
 his refusal to apply or lay himself out for office under 
 
 VOL. I. z
 
 338 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLE ). 
 
 the restored monarchy, although a fair opening was 
 managed for him by his Iriends, 
 
 In August, 1814, he left Paris for Milan, where he 
 resided till 1821, with the exception of visits to Paris 
 and London in 1817. At Milan he enjoyed in per- 
 fection the precise kind of life which suited him. 
 The opera was a never-failing source of enjoyment; and 
 there was no department of the fine arts from which he 
 could not draw both instruction and amusement at 
 will. The cosmopolite character of his taste may be 
 inferred from the manner in which he speaks in a 
 letter, dated October, 1818, of Vigano, the composer 
 of ballets : — 
 
 " Every man who has an Immense success in his own 
 country is remarkable in the eyes of a philosopher. Vigano, 
 I repeat, has had this success. For example, 4000 francs a 
 year has been usually paid to the composers of ballets; he 
 has 44,000 for 1819. A Parisian will exclaim, Fi, lliorreur! 
 He may speak in good faith ; only I shall add aside, so much the 
 worse for him. If Vigano discovers the art of writiiifr 
 gestures and groups, I maintain, that in 1860, he will be 
 more spoken of than Madame de Stael. Therefore I have a 
 right to call him a great man, or at least, a very remarkable 
 man, and superior, like Kossini or Canova, to all that you 
 have at Paris in the fine arts or literature." 
 
 In another letter, in which he repeats and justifies 
 this opinion, he says, "I pass my evenings with Rossini 
 and jMonti : all things considered, I prefer extra- 
 ordinary men to ordinary ones." Amongst the ex- 
 traordinary men with whom he associated on familiar 
 terms at Milan was Lord Bvron, who addressed the 
 following letter to him in 1823. By M. Merimee's 
 kindness, we are enabled to give a literal copy, the 
 italics included : — 
 
 "Genoa, May 29, 1823. 
 " Sir, — At present that I know to whom I am indebted 
 for a very flattering mention in the ' Rome, Naples et Florence 
 en 1817,' by M. Stendahl, it is fit that I should return my
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (hENRI BEYLe). 339 
 
 thanks (however undesu'ed or undesirable) to Mr. Beyle, with 
 whom I had the honour of being acauainted at Milan in 
 1816. You only did me too much honour in what you were 
 pleased to say in that work ; but it has hardly given me less 
 pleasure than the praise itself, to become at length aware 
 (which I have done by mere accident) that I am indebted 
 for it to one of whose good opinion I am really ambitious. 
 So many changes have taken place in the Milan circle, that 
 I hardly dare recur to it ; some dead, some banished, and 
 some in the Austrian dungeons. Poi r Pellico ! I trust that 
 in his iron solitude his muse is consoling him in part — one 
 day to delight us again, when both she and her poet are 
 restored to freedom. 
 
 " Of your works I have only seen ' Rome ' and the ' Lives 
 of Ilaydn and Mozart,^ and the brochure on ' Racine and 
 Shakespeare.^ The ' Histoire de la Peinture ' I have not yet 
 the good fortune to possess. There is one part of your ob- 
 servations in the pamphlet which I shall venture to remark 
 upon; it regards Walter Scott. You say that ' his character 
 is little worthy of enthusiasm,' at the same 'time that you 
 mention his productions in the manner they deserve. I have 
 known Walter Scott long and well, and in occasional situa- 
 tions which call forth the real character, and I can assure 
 you, that his character is worthy of admiration, — that of all 
 men he is the most oj)en, the most honourable, the most 
 amiable. With his politics I have nothing to do ; they differ 
 from mine, which renders it difficult for me to speak of them. 
 But he is perfectly sincere in them, — and sincerity may be 
 humble, but she cannot be servile. I pray you therefore to 
 correct or soften that passage. You may perhaps attribute this 
 officiousness of mine to a false affectation of candour, as I 
 happen to be a writer also. Attribute it to what motive 
 you please, but believe the truth. I say that Walter Scott 
 is as nearly a thorough good man as man can be, because I 
 know it by experience to be the case. 
 
 " If you do me the favour of an answer, may I request a 
 speedy one? because it is possible (though not yet decided) 
 that circumstances may conduct me once more to Greece. 
 My present address is Genoa, where an answer will reach 
 me in a short time, or be forwarded to me wherever I may be. 
 I beg you to believe me, with a lively recollection of our 
 
 z 2
 
 340 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLe). 
 
 brief acquaintance, and the hope of one day renewing it, 
 your ever obliged and obedient humble servant, 
 
 "Noel Byron. 
 
 " P.S. I make no excuse for writing to you in English, as 
 I understand you are well acquainted with that language." 
 
 " A Monsieur H. Beyle, 
 
 " Rue de Richelieu, No. 63, k Paris." 
 
 In March, 1818, Beyle writes thus to a friend who 
 was anxious that he should become a candidate for 
 office : 
 
 *' Without hating any one, I have always been exquisitely 
 abhorred by half of my official relations, &c. &c. To conclude, 
 I like Italy. I pass from seven o'clock to midnight every 
 evening in listening to music ; the climate does the rest. 
 Do you know that during the last six weeks we have been 
 at 14° of Beaumur ? Do you know that at Venice one lives 
 like a gentleman for nine lire a day, and that the Venetian lira 
 is fifty centimes. I shall live a year or two longer at Milan, 
 then as much at Venice, and then in 1821, pressed by mis- 
 fortune, I shall go to Cularo ; I shall sell the apartment, for 
 which I was offered 10,000 francs this year, and I shall try 
 my fortune at Paris." 
 
 By a strange coincidence of untoward events, which 
 could not have been so much as guessed when this 
 plan of life was sketched, he was eventually com- 
 pelled to adhere to it. His father died in the course 
 of the following year (June, 1819), and left him less 
 than half of the 100,000 francs on wdiich he had cal- 
 culated ; and in July, 1820, he writes to announce 
 " the greatest misfortune that could happen to him," 
 — " the hardest blow he had ever received in his 
 life." A report had got about, and was generally 
 credited at Milan, that he was a secret agent of the 
 French Government. " It has been circulating for six 
 months. I observed that many persons tried to 
 avoid saluting me : I cared little about this, when the
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (hENKI BEYLE). 341 
 
 kind Plana wrote me the letter which I enclose. I 
 am not angry with him ; yet here is a terrible blow. 
 For, after all, what is this Frenchman doing here ? 
 Milanese simplicity will never be able to compreliend 
 my philosopliic life, and that I live here, on five thou- 
 sand francs, better than at Paris on twelve thousand." 
 He had partly himself to blame for this disagreeable 
 position ; for he was fond of mystifying people by 
 playing tricks with his name, or by adopting odd 
 names and signatures, as well as by giving counter- 
 feit, shifting, and contradictory descriptions of his 
 birth, rank, and profession. Madame Ancelot (Les 
 Salons de Paris) relates that he made it a condition, 
 on accepting an invitation to one of her soirees, that 
 he should come under any name he chose. He was 
 announced as j\I. Ca3sar Bombay, and m3"stified her 
 friends by describing himself as purveyor of cotton 
 nightcaps and stockings to the army, wdiich, he said, 
 was a higher and more useful vocation than man of 
 letters. In his " Memoires d'un Touriste," he assumes 
 the character of an ironmaster. 
 
 " When," says M. Colomb, " he had to give his address 
 to a tailor or bootmaker, it was rarely that he gave his real 
 name. This led to quid pro quos which amused him. Thus, 
 he was inquired for by turns under the names of Bel, Beil, 
 Bell, Lebel, &c. As to his profession, it depended on the 
 caprice of the moment. At Milan he gave himself out for a 
 superior officer of dragoons who had obtained his discharge 
 in 1814, and son of a fjencral of artillery. All these little 
 inventions were but jokes ; he never derived any advantage 
 from them beyond a little amusement." 
 
 This excuse might have been partially admissible 
 if, in the aristocratic society of Milan, he had given 
 himself out for an ex-corporal and the son of a tailor ; 
 but the assumption of a superior grade and higher 
 birth savours strongly of a censurable amount of 
 petty vanity ; and such tricks were the height of 
 
 z 3
 
 342 M. DE STENDHAL (lIENRI BEYLE). 
 
 folly ill a town like Milan, where both the governing 
 and the governed were naturally prone to suspect 
 treachery. 
 
 Whilst he was yet hesitating what course to pursue, 
 the police settled the matter by summarily ordering 
 him to leave the Austrian territory, upon the gratui- 
 tous supposition that he was affiliated to the sect of 
 Carbonari. From 1821 to 1830, he resided at Paris, 
 Avhere he was an established member of the circles 
 which comprised the leading notabilities of the period, 
 male and female: 
 
 " It is from this epoch," says M. Colomb, " that his reputa- 
 tion as lioimne (Vesprit, and conteur agreahle (bq,th these terms 
 are untranslatable) dates. Society listened witli pleat^ure — 
 ■with a sustained interest — to that multitude of anecdotes 
 which his vast memory and his lively imagination produced 
 under a graceful, coloured, original form. People recognised 
 in the narrator the man who had studied and seen much, and 
 observed with acuteness. Across the profound clianges un- 
 dergone by tlie salon life since 1789, he recalled attention, in 
 a limited degree, to the taste which reigned at that time 
 amongst those who guided it ; he succeeded in generahsing 
 the conversation, — a difficult and ahnost disused thino- in 
 our days, wdien, if three people are gathered together, there 
 are two conversations proceeding simuhaneously without any 
 connexion ; Avhen routs resemble pubHc ])laces open to all 
 comers, and where about as much esprit is consumed as at 
 a costume ball, composed of persons who see each other for 
 the first time. Beyle's agreeability frequently enabhd him 
 to triumph over all the dissolvents which tend to destroy 
 French society." 
 
 And a very great trium])h it wns, if we consider 
 the period and the angry passions which then divided 
 the company he thus contrived to amalgamate by 
 the introduction of well-chosen topics, by his feli- 
 citous mode of treating them, by his varied know- 
 ledge, his lively fancy, and his tact. The reason why 
 ;M. Colomb is obliged to go back to a period antecedent 
 
 I
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (hENEI BEYLE ). 343 
 
 to 1789 for his model of drawing-room life, is, that 
 the French thenceforth ceased to be the gay, laughing, 
 pleasure-seeking nation of which we have read or 
 heard traditionally. Serious practical poUtics are a 
 ;Sad drawback to lively and clever conversation, not 
 merely because any dull fellow can bawl out the 
 commonplaces of his party, but because the easy 
 interchange of mind is impeded, and our thoughts are 
 constantly reverting, in our own despite, to the ab- 
 sorbing and beaten questions of the hour. But the 
 buoyant spirits and elastic energies of a rising gene- 
 ration cannot be kept down. The struggle of a new 
 school of authors or artists with a declining or super- 
 annuated one, affords ample scope for the display of 
 wit, taste, and acquirement ; and the contest between 
 classicism and romanticism, which raged furiously 
 during the last years of the Restoration, was admi- 
 rably adapted to the genius of a Beyle. 
 
 There can hardly be a fairer test of the position 
 held by a man in his own country than the contem- 
 porary impression of an enlightened foreigner. In 
 her " France in 1829-1830," Lady Morgan describes 
 "the brilliant Beyle" as the central figure of a group 
 of notabilities at her hotel ; and his noin de guerre 
 figures thus with her ladyship's name in one of 
 Yiennet's versified epistles: — 
 
 " Stendhal, Morgan, Scblegel, — ne vous effrayez pas, 
 Muses, ce sont des noiiis fanieux dans nos climats, 
 Chefs de la Propagaude, aniens njissionaires, 
 Parlant de Romantique, et prechant ses mysteres." 
 
 It is elsewhere recorded of him, that, besides talking 
 well himself, he contributed largely to the social 
 y)leasures of the circles in which he mixed, by leading 
 others to talk, and by bringing persons of congenial 
 minds together. 
 
 "A party of ciglit or ten agreeable persons," lie writes, 
 *' where the conversation is gay and anecdotic, and where 
 
 z 4
 
 344 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLe). 
 
 Avcak puncli is handed round at half-past twelve, Is the place 
 in the world where I enjoy myself most. There, in my 
 element, I infinitely prefer hearing others talk to talking 
 myself. I readily sink back into the silence of happiness ; 
 and if I talk, it is only to pay my ticket of admission." 
 
 He named half-past twelve at night because the 
 steady, regular, formal people are wont to retire 
 before that time, and the held is pretty sure to be left 
 free to those who live for intellectual intercourse, and 
 love it for its own sake, instead of hurrying to crowd 
 after crowd to proclaim their importance, gratify their 
 vanity, or parade their tiresomeness. He insisted on 
 anecdotes, facts, and incidents, in contradistinction 
 to the vague, the declamatory, and the abs-tract style 
 of conversation, — that trick of phrasemaking, as he 
 termed it, which (in common with Byron) he detected 
 and detested in " Corinne." Madame Pasta happening 
 to say one evening of love, " C'est une tuile qui vous 
 tombe sur la tete ; " " Add," said Beyle, " ' comme vous 
 passez dans la vie,' and then you will speak like 
 Madame de Stael, and people will pay attention to 
 your remark." 
 
 In an existence like Beyle's, as in a Rembrandt 
 picture, the bright parts stand out in broad contrast 
 to the surrounding intensity of shade — 
 
 " Dearly bought the hidden treasure, 
 Finer feelings can bestow ; 
 Hearts that vibrate sweetest pleasure 
 Thrill the deepest notes of woe." 
 
 "My sensibility," he writes, shortly before his death, 
 has become too acute. What does but graze others, 
 Avounds me to the quick. Such was I in 1799 ; such 
 I am still in 1840. But I have learnt to hide all 
 this under irony imperceptible to the common herd." 
 We suspect that his sensil)ility somewhat resembled 
 that of Ivousseau, who, wdiilst laying down rules for
 
 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLE ). 345 
 
 the education of children in " Emile," suffered his own 
 offspring to be brought up at a foundling hospital ; 
 or that of Sterne, who, it is alleged, neglected a dying 
 mother to indulge in pathos over a dead donkey. In 
 th.e midst of his social triumphs, Beyle more than 
 once meditated suicide; and on one occasion, in 1828, 
 he appears to have been driven to despair by the 
 remissness of an English publisher, who had omitted 
 to pay him for some articles which he had contributed 
 to a London magazine. Under these circumstances, 
 we can hardly wonder that the prospect of an inde- 
 pendence induced him to accept the consulship of 
 Trieste, which was obtained for him in September 
 1830, by the friends who had thriven on the revolution 
 of July. 
 
 They have been censured for not doing more for 
 him ; but it should be remembered that a party 
 is a combination of persons who unite their talents 
 and resources upon an understanding that, in case of 
 success, the power and patronage thereby acquired 
 shall be shared amono-st them. There is nothin": 
 necessarily wrong in such a league, because those 
 forming it may fairly claim credit for confidence in 
 one another's honesty and capacity as well as for 
 having fixed principles of policy to carry out ; and 
 the leaders have no right to gratify their private 
 feelings at the expense of their supporters. Now 
 Beyle took no part in the proceedings which resulted 
 in the temporary establishment of the Orleans dynasty 
 upon the throne. Pie had encountered no danger, and 
 was entitled to no reward. Nay, he had just before 
 been in confidential comnumication with the Polignac 
 ministry on the delicate subject of the Roman Con- 
 clave. He had made himself extremely useful, and 
 was naturally looking forward to his reward from 
 them. So far as his influence went, it had been ex- 
 erted to depreciate and discourage the exertions of 
 the Liberal party. " France," he had said some time
 
 34.6 M. DE STENDHAL (lIENKI BEYLE). 
 
 before, " is on the high road to happiness. If they 
 try to make her take the short cuts, they Avill upset 
 the coach." The remark was prophetic, and does 
 credit to his penetration. 
 
 He was supremely miserable at Trieste, and, fortu- 
 natel}^ for him, Prince IMetternich refused to sanction 
 the appointment ; so he was transferred to Civita 
 Vecchia, which was an improvement, as admitting of 
 frequent excursions to Rome. But his letters are as 
 full as ever of longings for Parisian life. 
 
 " AVliat a perspective," he exclaims, '' not to see the intel- 
 lectual people of Paris more than two or three times before 
 I die ! I was at a charming dinner yesterday, the finest 
 place in the neighbourliood, — trees, a fresh breeze, and thirty- 
 tliree guests, who felt honoured by the presence of a consul ; 
 but not an idea, not a touch of deptli or refinement. Am I 
 destined to die surrounded by hetes ? It looks very like it. 
 I am sought after ; I enjoy some consideration ; I have the 
 best slice of a fish weighing fourteen pounds, the best of its 
 kind. I had an excellent horse, which did the five miles and 
 a half in three quarters of an hour, yet I am perishing of 
 ennui. How many cold characters, how niany geometricians, 
 would be happy, or, at least, tranquil and satisfied, in my 
 place ! But my soul is a fire, which dies out if it does not 
 flame up. I require three or four cubic feet of new ideas 
 per day, as a steam-boat requires coal." 
 
 The utmost indulgence he could obtain was leave of 
 absence, purchased by the sacrifice of half his salary, 
 from 1836 to 1839. In 1838 he came to London, 
 and (according to M. Colomb) struck up a passing 
 intimacy wdth Theodore Hook at the Athenasum Club. 
 In March, 1839, on the retirement of M. Mole from 
 the Presidency of the Council and the Ministry of 
 Foreign Affairs, Beyle reluctantly resumed his official 
 duties at Civita Vecchia. His health began to break, 
 and he returned to Paris for medical advice in 1841. 
 On the 22nd of ]\Iarch, 1842, he was struck wnth 
 apoplexy in the Pue Neuve des Capucincs, close to
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (hENEI BEYLE). 347 
 
 the door of the Foreign Office. He was carried to 
 his lodging in the Rue Nenve des Petits Champs, 
 where he expired at two o'clock the next morning, 
 without having uttered a word, and apparently with- 
 out pain, in the sixtieth year of his age. He was 
 buried in the Cemetery of Montmartre (du Nord), 
 and the following inscription was placed by his own 
 express directions upon his monument : " Arrigo 
 Beyle, Milanese, Scrisse, Amo, Yisse. Ann. 59. M. 2. 
 ^lori 2. 23. Marzo, m d.ccc xlii. (Henry Beyle, 
 Milanese, Wrote, Loved, Lived. 59 years and 2 
 months. He died at two am. on the 23rd March, 
 1842.)" 
 
 According to Beyle's own philosophical creed, 
 which referred everything to self, he wrote, and loved, 
 and lived in vain ; for his writings were unprofitable, 
 his loves were unprosperous, and his life was an un- 
 happy one. It will not be uninstructive, nor beside 
 the purpose, to trace and analyse the more recondite 
 causes of these results. 
 
 Miss Edgeworth wrote the story of " Murad the 
 Unlucky," to prove that what is popularly called ill- 
 luck is simply another name for imprudence, and that 
 we have commonly ourselves to thank for our success 
 or ill-success in life. Beyle's career might be plau- 
 sibly adduced either for or against her argument. It 
 was undeniably ill-luck that two dynasties should be 
 successively upset just as he had established a claim 
 on each respectively. His acknowledged merits very 
 far exceeded those of many by whom he was distanced 
 in the race ; and on five or six occasions he strikingly 
 distinguished himself, yet his good hits did little or 
 nothing for his advancement. Fortune, therefore, 
 clearly had something to do with his disappointments; 
 yet we are disposed to think that his avowed incapa- 
 city for biding his time was the main cause of most 
 of them. In the worldly struggle, passive endurance
 
 348 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLE ). 
 
 is no less useful than active energy ; and patience 
 under annoyance, or perseverance in uncongenial em- 
 ployments, has again and again proved ambition's best 
 ladder. Beyle was the most impatient and least tole- 
 rant of human beings. Whenever an occupation 
 ceased to interest him, he abandoned it ; the moment 
 his acquaintance failed to amuse, he fled from them. 
 He deemed ennui the greatest of earthly evils, and a 
 bore the worst of criminals. Armed with medical 
 and legal authorities to the effect that death might be 
 produced by ennui, and that the means by which it 
 was illegally inflicted were immaterial in a judicial 
 point of view, the Due de Laraguais formally prose- 
 cuted a famous Parisian bore for an attempt upon his 
 life. If Beyle had been the judge, he would have 
 broken the accused upon the wheel without mercy or 
 compunction. He was not wholly without excuse, 
 for, when suffering from ennui, he underwent a com- 
 plete prostration of his moral and physical faculties. 
 
 Another of his confirmed antipathies, if more 
 excusable, was not less formidable as an obstacle or 
 dano;erous as a stumblino^-block. 
 
 " Three or four times," he writes, In his fifty-sixth year, 
 *' fortune lias knocked at my door. In 1814 it only rested 
 with myself to be named Prefect of Mans, or Director- 
 general of Corn Imports at Paris under the orders of Count 
 Beugnot ; but I was frightened at the number of })latltudes 
 and half-meannesses Imposed daily on the public functionaries 
 of all classes. . . . AVhen I see a man strutting about In a 
 room with a number of orders at his buttonhole, I involun- 
 tarily reckon up the number of paltry actions, of degrading 
 submissions, and often of black treasons, that he must have 
 accumulated to have received so many certificates of them." 
 
 This may remind the reader of Selwyn's remark 
 on a silver dinner service, at the sale of the effects of 
 Mr. Pelham, the Minister : " How many toads have 
 been eaten off these plates ! "
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (lIENRI BEYLe). 349 
 
 Bejle rivalled or outdid Swift in his " hate of folly" 
 and his *' scorn of fools," and took no pains to conceal 
 his aversion or contempt. At the same time (like 
 Sydney Smith with his " foolometer ") he fully ap- 
 preciated the importance of this very numerous and 
 very influential corporation. Thus when maintaining 
 the cause of the Romantic School against the Classi- 
 cists, he says — 
 
 " Never, in the memory of historians, did nation undergo 
 in its mannei's and its pleasures a more raj)id and entire 
 change than that from 1780 to 1823, and people wish to give 
 us the same literature ! Let our grave adversaries look round 
 them ; the fool (sot) of 1780 produced stupid and insipid 
 pleasantries; he was always laugliing ; the fool of 1823 
 produces j)hihjsophic reasonings, — vague, hackneyed, sleep- 
 inspiring ; his face is constantly elongated. Here is a 
 notable revolution. A society in wliich an element so 
 essential and so abundant as the fool is chanoed to this 
 extent, cannot sup[)ort either the same comic or the same 
 pathetic : then everybody aimed at making his neighbour 
 laugh ; now everybody wishes to pick his neighbour's 
 pocket." 
 
 We have already quoted his confession of an in- 
 curable tendency to produce enmity by his sarcasms. 
 A man who habitually indulges in this mode of 
 talking and writing may be esteemed for his manly 
 spirit, his independent bearing, his moral and physi- 
 cal courage, or his uncompromising integrity, but he 
 Avill rarely succeed as a place dmnter. 
 
 Beyle's irreligion is not offensively paraded in the 
 works published under his own eye in his lifetime ; 
 but the state of his mind in this respect is repulsively 
 exhibited in three or four passages of the '' Corres- 
 pondance Inedite." His friend Merimee describes 
 him as a confirmed infidel and an " outrageous mate- 
 rialist; " nor, after fidly allowing for his reckless habit 
 of making himself appear worse than he was to shock
 
 350 M. DE STENDHAL (UENRI BEYLE). 
 
 grave people, can it be doubted that his entire mind 
 and character were underlaid and pervaded by a cold, 
 hard, ingrained and ineradicable system of disbelief. 
 In the false pride of his mistaken logic, he fearlessly 
 pushed his creed, or no-creed, to its extreme conse- 
 quences. Denying Providence, he denied moral 
 responsibility : and he regarded human beings as 
 pu[)pets, meant for nothing higher or better than to 
 play a sorry or ridiculous part on the stnge of life, 
 where all their motions are regulated by the strings 
 of egotism. According to Merimee, he could never 
 be persuaded that what he thought false, could be 
 deemed credible by others ; and he put no faith in 
 the sincerity of the devout. This exteijt of scep- 
 ticism, assuming it to be genuine, implies a degree 
 of blindness, of ignorance, of downright fatuity, that 
 seems utterly irreconcilable with his proved strength 
 of understanding, his varied commerce with the 
 world, and his acknowledged sagacity. To borrow 
 the language which would have been best adapted to 
 his apprehension, it was worse than a crime, it was a 
 blunder. His assumed skill in penetrating to the 
 springs of human action and his boasted logic, one or 
 both of them, were at fault ; and we need look no 
 farther for the explanation of his disappointments or 
 his despondency. 
 
 He is admitted on all hands to have been a man of 
 strict honour and scrupulous integrity. M. Colomb 
 adds, that few have had more devoted friends than 
 Beyle, although he was culpably prone to neglect 
 their interests as well as his own. Tiiis raises a fresh 
 difficulty ; for, generally speaking, no bad quality or 
 vice carries its appropriate punishment along with it 
 more surely than heartlessness. If we do not trust 
 others, they will not trust us ; and if we have no 
 faith in friendship, we neither deserve nor acquire 
 friends. Wiiat is worse, we forfeit our best source
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (lIENRI BEYLe). 351 
 
 of consolation when we throw away hope ; and we 
 canker happiness in the bud when we kill enthu- 
 siasm : 
 
 " Like following life in creatures we dissect, 
 We lose it in the moment we detect." 
 
 In one of Beyle's letters he speaks of hi ui self as 
 simultaneously conscious of two states of being, — 
 the sentient and the observant or reasoning ; and we 
 can fancy him like the hero in " Used Up " {D Homme 
 Blase), who, in momentary expectation of a strong 
 excitement, takes out his watch to count the beatings 
 of his pulse. This constant practice of mental ana- 
 lysis may refine the perceptive powers, or sharpen 
 the logical faculty, or supply materials for psycholo- 
 gical study, but it chills the imagination, and induces 
 an undue preference for sensual pleasures as the most 
 solid or the least evanescent sources of enjoyment. 
 Such was one of its effects on Beyle, who combined 
 pruriency of fancy with delicacy of thought, and (no 
 very rare occurrence) was at the same time senti- 
 mental, and what the late Lord Ponsonby used to call 
 Jleshiment'dl. Another of its effects, not less marked, 
 was to inspire him with a morbid dislike to verse, 
 although lie shoAved admirable discrimination in 
 selecting beautiful passages from Shakspeare and 
 Dante. 
 
 The reader will have observed that the combina- 
 tion of qualities which we have described in Beyle, 
 belong rather to tlie analytical than to the creative 
 order of mind, and entitle their possessor to rank 
 higher as a critic or metaphysician than as a writer 
 of fiction. It is the very essence of sound criticism 
 to trace impressions to their source ; but the poet, the 
 dramatist, and tlie novelist (or writer of prose epics) 
 must be swept along by the glowing stream of their 
 own composition, or the public will look on indif- 
 ferently or not notice them at all. In the case of
 
 352 M. DE STENDHAL (hENKI BEYLE ). 
 
 the author before us, precisely what we should have 
 anticipated from a pnm reasoning, has come to pass. 
 The only works of his which acquired any share of 
 popularity on their first appearance were " Rome, 
 Naples, and Florence" (1817); "Racine et Shaks- 
 peare" (1823); and the "Life of Rossini" (1823). 
 Beyle was passionately fond of music. AVhen he 
 wrote on it, he was hurried away by his subject ; and 
 the first of these three works may be described as a 
 musical tour. The " Life of Rossini " speaks for 
 itself; and " Racine and Shakspeare " was an ex- 
 clusively critical production, thrown off upon a 
 sudden impulse in the height of an exciting contro- 
 versy. Such an occasion was eminently- favourable 
 to the display of his peculiar talents ; and he was 
 saved, in his own despite, from the fatal error of writing, 
 or affecting to write, for a contemporary public of 
 exceedingly narrow dimensions, or for a larger one 
 that was to begin studying him in right earnest, and 
 in a becoming spirit, about 1880. 
 
 It is stated in an English book of travels (by the 
 writer), printed for private circulation, that Manzoni, 
 " half in earnest, avowed it to be his creed, tiiat as 
 society became more enlightened, it would tolerate 
 110 such thing as literature considered merely as a 
 creation of art." Beyle too frequently acted on the 
 hypothesis that this stage of progressive improvement 
 had been reached already, or was sure to be reached 
 very shortly ; for he takes little pains todevelope, or even 
 to separate, his ideas, thoughts and images, when they 
 crowd upon him. When the expression is irreproach- 
 able in respect of clearness, the odds are that the ar- 
 rangement is faulty, or that the form is such as to 
 create an inadequate impression of the work. We 
 do not remember another instance in which so much 
 curious information and masterly criticism, so much 
 varied and valuable matter of all sorts, is presented in
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (hENRI BEYLE ). 353 
 
 SO loose, scattered, unpretending, and unattractive 
 a shape as in his "Promenades dans Kome." His 
 friends allege that it was his dislike to Madame de 
 Stael, and his horror of what he thought the sickly 
 sentimentalities and pompous platitudes of " Corinne," 
 that hurried him into the opposite extreme of putting 
 forth two volumes of Notes. 
 
 " Whatever negligence may be found in his works," 
 says M. Merimee, "these were not the less laboriously 
 worked up. All his books were copied several times 
 before being delivered to the printer ; but his correc- 
 tions were not of style. He always wrote fast, 
 changing his thought, and troubling himself little 
 about the form. He had even a contempt for style, 
 and maintained that an author had attained perfection 
 when readers remembered his ideas without beino- 
 able to recall his phrases." Just so it has been 
 observed that the best dressed person is one who 
 leaves a general impression of ease and elegance ; or, 
 as Brummel put it, if John Bull stops to look at you, 
 you are not Avell dressed, but too stiff, too tight, or 
 too fashionable. M. Thiers, again, in the eloquent 
 Preface to his concluding volumes, comjDares a perfect 
 style to glass, which we look through without being 
 conscious of its presence between the object and the 
 eye. These respective points of excellence, however, 
 are not attained when the dress conveys an impres- 
 sion of awkwardness, when the glass troubles the 
 view, or when the style repels readers and degrades, 
 instead of elevating, the thought. Nor are they 
 often attained without labour ; and it has been 
 pointedly observed that the " Ramblers " of Dr. 
 Johnson, elaborate as they appear, were written 
 rapidly and seldom underwent revision ; whilst the 
 simple language of Rousseau, which seems to come 
 flowing from the heart, was the slow production of 
 painful toil, pausing on every word, and balancing 
 
 VOL. I. A A
 
 354 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLe). 
 
 every sentence. Balzac concludes his fervent eulogy 
 of Beyle by protesting against his " habitudes de 
 sphinx ; " and says of the style of his best work, " he 
 Avrites very much in the style of Diderot, who was 
 not a writer; but the conception is grand and power- 
 ful, the thought is original, and often well rendered. 
 This system is not to be held up to imitation. It 
 would be too dangerous to let authors believe them- 
 selves profound thinkers." It would certainly be too 
 dangerous to let them set up for so many Benthams, 
 and depend upon a corresponding supply of Dumonts 
 to translate or interpret them. 
 
 In a letter to M. Colomb, Balzac adds : " Beyle is 
 one of the most remarkable spirits of the age ; but he 
 has not paid sufficient attention to form : he wrote as 
 the birds sing, and our language is a sort of Madame 
 Ilonesta, who finds no good in anything that is not 
 irreproachable. I am deeply grieved at his sudden 
 death ; the pruning-knife should have been carried 
 into the ' Chartreuse de Parme,' and a second edition 
 would have made a complete and irreproachable work 
 of it. In any case it is a wonderful production, le 
 livre des esprits distingues.^^ 
 
 We concur with M. Balzac to the extent of think- 
 ing the " Chartreuse de Parme" a very remarkable 
 book, which may be fairly taken as Beyle's master- 
 piece in the department of fiction. We shall, there- 
 fore, endeavour to convey some notion of it by a rude 
 outline of the plot and a few extracts. 
 
 The time is the first quarter of the present century. 
 The scene is laid at Milan and Parma. The heroine 
 (Gina, the abbreviation of Angelina) is a Milanese of 
 high birth, surpassing beauty, indomitable energy, 
 and morals of that elastic and accommodating order 
 that never stand in the way of her preferment or her 
 caprice. The hero Fabricio, her nephew, is a good- 
 looking, gallant, and gifted scapegrace, a sort of Ita-
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (hENEI BEYLE ). 355 
 
 lian Tom Jones, who is constantly getting himself 
 and his patrons into difficulty by indulging the im- 
 pulse of the moment. His aunt is attached to him 
 with an intensity of affectionate interest that might 
 have ended in a scandal of the worst kind, had it 
 been reciprocated, which it is not ; and she herself is 
 represented as never wilfully cherishing an irregular 
 or guilty wish. The most important of the dramatis 
 fersonce^ after these two, are the reigning Prince of 
 Parma, Ernest IV., and his prime minister, the Count 
 Mosca della Rovere. More than a hundred pages are 
 occupied in laying the train by details of Fabricio's 
 youthful adventures and the early life of Gina, of 
 which a single incident may suffice. Her husband, 
 the Count Pietranera, having been killed in a duel, 
 she intimates to her principal adorer her sovereign 
 will and pleasure that he should pursue the success- 
 ful combatant and revenge the death of her lost lord. 
 He hesitates, and she sends him the following billet : — 
 
 " Voulez-vous agir une fois en homme d'esprit ? Figurez- 
 vous que vous ne m'avez jamais connue. Je suis, avec un 
 peu de mepris peut-etre, voire tres-humble servante, 
 
 " Gina Pietranera." 
 
 Refusing the most splendid offers, she takes up her 
 abode in a fifth story, with the avowed intention of 
 living on a pension of 1500 francs a year. The 
 Count Mosca sees her at La Scala, and falls despe- 
 rately in love with her. " He was then between forty 
 and forty-five years of age : he had marked features, 
 no appearance of pretension, and a gay, simple air, 
 which predisposed in his favour. He would have 
 been very good-looking still, if a whim of his prince 
 had not obliged him to wear powder as a pledge of 
 sound political opinions." He consoles himself for 
 the advance of years by the reflection that " age, after 
 all, is but the inability to give oneself up to those 
 
 A A 2
 
 356 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLE ). 
 
 delicious tremblings and emotions ;" and, encouraged 
 by the Countess's smiles, he at length makes his pro- 
 posals, which are not exactly what the French ladies 
 call pour le hon motif. Like a late lamented English 
 statesman, he explains that there are three courses 
 open. He would fling ambition to the winds, and 
 live with her at Milan, Florence, or Naples, on the 
 wreck of his fortune ; or she might settle at Parma, 
 where he could insure her a place about the Court — 
 
 " 'But,' he continues, 'there is one capital objection. The 
 prince is devout, and, as you are aware, it is my fate to be 
 married. The result would be a million of annoyances. You 
 are a widow ; it is an excellent position, which you must ex- 
 change for another, and this is the object of my third plan. 
 A new and accommodating husband might be found. But it 
 is essential that he should be of an advanced age, for why 
 should you refuse me the hope of replacing him at some future 
 day ? Well, I have concluded this singular affair with the 
 Due Sanseverina-Taxis, who of course does not know the 
 name of his future duchess. All he knows is that she is to 
 make him ambassador, and confer on him a grand cross that 
 his father had, and the want of which renders him the most 
 miserable of mortals. Allowing for this weakness, the Due is 
 not too much of a simpleton. He has his clothes and perukes 
 from Paris. He is by no means the sort of man to commit 
 intentional depravity ; he seriously believes that honour con- 
 sists in having a cross ; and he is ashamed of his wealth. He 
 came to me a year ago to propose to found a hospital to gain 
 this cross. I laughed at him, but he did not laugh at me 
 when I proposed a marriage ; my first condition, I need 
 hardly say, being that he should never set foot in Parma 
 
 again.' 
 
 But are you aware,' interrupted the Countess, ' that 
 what you are proposing to me is very immoral ?' 
 
 " ' Not more immoral than what has been done in our 
 Court and twenty others. There is this convenience in ab- 
 solute power, that it sanctifies everything in the eyes of the 
 governed ; and can that which is seen by no one be a blot? 
 Our policy, for twenty years, bids fair to consist in the fear 
 of" Jacobinism : and what a fear! Every year we shall fancy
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (nENRI BEYLE). 357 
 
 ourselves on the eve of '93. You will hear, I hope, the 
 phrases I am in the habit of declaiming on that topic, at my 
 receptions. They are grand. Everything that may dimi- 
 nish this fear a little will be supremely moral in the eyes of 
 the noble and the devout. Now, at Parma, everything that 
 is not noble or devout is in prison or preparing to go there ; 
 and you may be well assured that this marriage will not ap- 
 pear singular amongst us before the day of my disgrace.' " 
 
 Three months afterwards, the new Duchess Sansc- 
 verina Taxis was the cynosure of every eye and the 
 observed of all observers at the Court of Parma, where 
 the Prince, whose portrait is a masterpiece, soon seeks 
 to displace and replace his minister. On one of her 
 Thursday receptions, he could not resist the tempta* 
 tion of going in defiance of etiquette, and the follow« 
 ing colloquy arises : 
 
 " ' But if I accept your Highness's attentions,' observed 
 the Countess, laughing, ' with what face should I dare to 
 reappear before the Count ? ' ' I should be almost as much 
 out of countenance as you,' replied his Highness. * The dear 
 Count ! my friend ! But this is an embarrassment very easy 
 to evade, and one on which I have been thinking, — the 
 Count would be sent to the citadel for the remainder of hia 
 days.' " 
 
 She exerts her influence to make him pay a visit 
 to his wife, an event which electrifies the Court 
 
 " This Prince was not a wicked man, whatever the liberals 
 of Italy may say of him. To be sure, he had thrown a good 
 many of them into prison ; but it was from fear ; and he 
 sometimes repeated, as if to console himself for certain remi- 
 niscences, that it is better to kill the devil than for the devil 
 to kill us. The day after the soiree of which we have been 
 speaking, he was in the highest spirits; he had done two 
 good actions, — gone to the Duchess's Thursday, and spoken 
 to his wife." 
 
 The rivalry of their confiding master and friend a 
 little disturbs the domestic felicity of this exemplary 
 
 A A 3
 
 358 M. DE STENDHAL (lIENRI BEYLe). 
 
 pair, but still their grand cause of anxiety is Fabricio ; 
 and it is at length resolved between them that the 
 proper vocation for a young man of family, suspected 
 of liberalism and more than suspected of libertinism, 
 is the Church. The vouno; man refuses at first, but his 
 scruples are overcome by an appeal to the example 
 of his ancestors. 
 
 " ' What a mistake ! ' (he had thoughts of enlisting in the 
 army of the United States), remonstrates his aunt. ' You 
 will vsee no war, and you will relapse into the tavern-life, 
 only without elegance, without music, without love. Trust 
 me, American life would be dull work for you or me.' She 
 cxjilained to him the worship of the god dollar, and the 
 respect that must be shown for the workpeople in the streets, 
 who decide everything by their votes. ' Before turning 
 yourself into a policeman in uniform, reflect well that we are 
 not talking of your becoming a poor priest, more or less vir- 
 tuous and exemplary, like the Abbe Blanes (his tutor). 
 Remember that your uncles were archbishops of Parma, 
 liead over again the notices of their lives in the supplement 
 to the genealogy. Above all, it becomes the bearer of an 
 illustrious name to be grand seigneur^ noble, generous, pro- 
 tector of justice, destined beforehand to find himself at the 
 head of his order, and in all his life to be guilty of only one 
 act of knavery, but that one very useful' " 
 
 Talleyrand (whose choice of his original profes- 
 sion was probably influenced by similar considera- 
 tions), when Rulhieres said he had been guilty of 
 only one wickedness in his life, asked " When will 
 it end ? " There was more in this repartee than 
 its readiness or its point ; for there are mean, wicked 
 and degrading actions which never do end, and which 
 colour the entire current of a life. Fabricio, loose as 
 he is, has a vague instinct that he is about to commit 
 one of these, but his scruples are overcome by the 
 Duchess, and he consents with a sigh to become a 
 Monsignore. 
 
 The Count's parting advice to his iwotege is not
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (hEKRI BEYLE). 359 
 
 quite equal to that given by Polonius to Laertes, but 
 it is in strict keeping with the part. 
 
 " ' If we are dismissed,' said the Duchess, ' we will rejoin 
 you at Naples. But since you accept, till the new order of 
 things, the proposal of the violet stockings, the Count, who 
 thoroughly understands Italy as it is, has charged me with 
 an idea for you. Believe or disbelieve what you will be 
 taught, but never raise an objection. Fancy to yourself that 
 you are learning the rules of whist ; would you raise objec- 
 tions to the rules of whist ? I have told the Count that you 
 are a believer, and he is glad of it ; this is useful both in 
 this world and the next. But if you believe, do not fall into 
 the vulgarity of speaking with horror of Voltaire, Diderot, 
 Raynal, and all those crackbrained Frenchmen, precursors 
 of the two Chambers. Let those names be rarely in your 
 mouth; but when you must speak of them, speak of them 
 with calm irony : they are people who have been refuted 
 long since, and whose attacks are no longer of any conse- 
 quence. Believe blindly whatever you are told at the 
 Academy. Keflect that your least objections will be noted 
 down ; you will be pardoned a little intrigue of gallantry 
 well managed, but not a doubt : age suppresses intrigue and 
 augments doubt.^ 
 
 " ' The second idea that the Count sends you is this, — 
 If you happen to think of a brilliant argument, a victo- 
 rious repartee, which changes the course of the conversation, 
 do not yield to the temptation of shining, — be silent ; people 
 of discernment will see your mental superiority in your 
 eyes. It will be time enough to have esprit when you are a 
 bishop.' " 
 
 How far Fabricio had benefitted by these instruc- 
 tions may be inferred from his first interview with 
 the Prince on the completion of his Neapolitan train- 
 ing for the priesthood : — 
 
 " ' Well, Monsignor,' began the Prince, 'are the pco[)lc 
 of Naples happy ? Is the King beloved ? ' * Serene High- 
 ness,' replied Fabricio, without an instant's hesitation, ' I 
 admired, in passing through the streets, the excellent bearing 
 of the soldiers of the different regiments of His Majesty ; 
 
 A A 4
 
 360 M. DE STENDHAL (hENRI BEYLe). 
 
 the good society of Naples is respectful towards its masters, 
 as it ought to be, but I will fairly own that in all my life 
 I never suffered people of the lower classes to speak to me 
 of anything but the work for which I pnid them.' ' Peste,^ 
 said the Prince to himself, ' what unction ! this is all in 
 the Sanssverina style.' Was it possible to repeat more 
 closely the lessons of the aunt ? I fancied I heard her speak- 
 ing. If there was a revolution in my States, she would edit 
 the *' Moniteur," like the San-Felice at Naples. But the 
 San-Felice, despite her beauty, and her twenty-five years, 
 was hanged ; a warning to over-clever ladies." 
 
 The Duchess narrowly escapes sharing the fate of 
 La San-Felice. The nephew kills a man in self- 
 defence. He is accused of murder ; and henceforth 
 the main interest of the plot turns on the struggles 
 of the aunt to save him from his persecutors, who 
 are secretly set on by the Prince, and to make him 
 an archbishop in defiance of them. The most con- 
 spicuous among her adversaries is the minister of 
 police, Rossi, and the least scrupulous of her tools is 
 the republican enthusiast, Palla Ferrante, who robs 
 on the highway to pay for the printing of his de- 
 mocratic tracts, and, whilst daily risking his life for 
 liberty, is made the slave of an aristocratic beauty by 
 a smile. Palla Ferrante, says Balzac, " is the type 
 of a family of Italian spirits, sincere but misled, full 
 of talent but io^norant of the fatal effects of their doc- 
 trine. Send them, ye ministers of absolute princes, 
 with plenty of money, to France {i.e. in 1840) and 
 to the United States. Instead of persecuting them, 
 let them enlighten themselves. They will soon say, 
 like Alfieri in 1793, ' The little at their work recon- 
 cile me to the great.' " 
 
 We agree with the same acute critic, that the com- 
 mencement should have been abridged, and that the 
 curtain should have fallen on the death of the Prince, 
 although the loves of Fabricio and Clelia form one of 
 the finest satires in the book. When the following
 
 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLE ). 361 
 
 interview takes place, Fabricio is archbishop of Parma, 
 a popular preacher, and supposed (as is the lady) to 
 be living in the odour of sanctity. -He is admitted 
 into an orangery, and finds himself before a barred 
 window. A hand is extended to meet him, and a 
 soft voice announces, C^est moi — 
 
 " ' I have made a vow to the Madonna, as you know, 
 never to see you ; this is the reason why I receive you in 
 this profound darkness. I wish you to understand that if 
 ever you force me to see you in broad dayhght, everything 
 between us will be at an end. But, in the first place, I do 
 not choose you to preach before Anetta Marini.' 
 
 " ' My angel, I will never preach again before any one. 
 I only preached in the hope of seeing you.' 
 
 " ' Do not speak thus ; remember that it is not allowable 
 for me to see you.' 
 
 [Here we request permission to overleap a space of three 
 years.] 
 
 " The Marchioness had a charming little boy, about two 
 years old, Sandrino, who was always with her, or on the 
 knees of the Marquis, her husband. During the long 
 hours of each day when she could not see her friend, the 
 presence of Sandrino consoled her ; for we have to confess a 
 thing which will seem odd north of the Alps, she had re- 
 mained faithful to her vow ; she had promised the Madonna 
 never to see Fabricio ; such had been her very words, con- 
 sequently she never received him but at night, and there was 
 never a light in the apartment." 
 
 Balzac insists that the Count Mosca is meant for 
 Prince Metternich, and that for Parma we should 
 read Modena. Beyle denied that he had copied any 
 living or contemporary original, male or female. He 
 argues that his scene could not have been laid in one 
 of the srreat courts on account of the details of ad- 
 ministration. " There remained the little j^rinces of 
 Germany and Italy. But the Germans are so pros- 
 trate before a riband, they are so hetes. I passed 
 many years amongst them, and have forgotten their
 
 362 M. DE STENDHAL (lIENllI BEYLe). 
 
 language from contempt. You will see that my 
 personages could not be Germans. If you follow this 
 idea, you will find that I have been led by the hand 
 to an extinct dynasty, to a Farnese, the least obscure 
 of these extincts, by reason of the General, his grand- 
 father." . . . "I have never seen Madame Bel- 
 gioso. Rossi was a German. I have spoken to him 
 a hundred times. I learnt ' The Prince ' during my 
 residences at St. Cloud in 1810 and 1811." 
 
 Schiller, in " Cabal und Liebe," and Lessing, in 
 " Emilia Galotti," have each painted a petty despot, 
 with the resulting demoralisation of all within his 
 sphere, in still darker colours ; but they wrote before 
 the Great Revolution of 1789, which permanently 
 altered the tone and limited the social effects of 
 despotism, great or small. Although oppression and 
 corruption may be as rife as ever, and iniquitous 
 sentences may be procured as easily in the actual 
 Naples as in the Parma of the novelist, the modern 
 tools and satellites of tyranny are more rogues than 
 fools; they are no unhesitating believers in right 
 divine; their reverence for white staves and gold 
 sticks is founded rather on calculation than on faith ; 
 and they no longer (except a few of the very silliest) 
 talk of themselves, even amongst themselves, as 
 privileged to indulge their vices at the expense of the 
 non-noble classes with impunity. We doubt whether 
 at any time since the commencement of the nineteenth 
 century, a clever woman, like the Duchess, would 
 have treated as an absurdity the notion of a del 
 Dongo being prosecuted for killing a Giletti, or 
 whether any Pope within living memory Avould have 
 been induced to sanction Fabricio's elevation to the 
 archbishopric. Every objection of this sort, however, 
 might have been obviated by carrying the plot back 
 to the period when Dubois received his cardinal's hat, 
 or even to that when Talleyrand Avas made a bishop,
 
 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLE ). 383 
 
 and when a gentleman was expected to suppress the 
 insolence of the canaille by the infliction of instant 
 death. Thus, Edgeworth relates in his " Memoirs," 
 that once when he was riding with a lady in the 
 'South of France, some coarse expressions were ad- 
 dressed to her, or in her hearing, by a peasant, whom 
 Edgeworth forthwith horsewhipped and rolled into 
 the ditch. Shortly afterwards he found himself coldly 
 received by the aristocracy of the neighbourhood, 
 and learnt, on inquiring the cause, that he was 
 thought to have been wanting in proper spirit, and 
 that it was his duty to run his sword through the 
 fellow's body on the spot. 
 
 In the " Promenades dans Rome," and in the 
 " Correspondance Inedite," may be found authentic 
 examples by the dozen of crimes committed under the 
 influence of jealousy, in which the criminal invariably 
 had public opinion on his side. Beyle's experience 
 of Italian society, as it existed in the first quarter 
 of the present century, if it does not so exist still, had 
 satisfied him that in Italy no off'ences against good 
 feeling and morality were so unnatural as to lie 
 altogether beyond the bounds of probability ; and he 
 constructed this singular tale from examples which 
 had doubtless past before his eyes. But he has 
 caricatured Italian depravity. Although parallels 
 should be found for every individual act of villany, 
 meanness, or immorality, there is no getting over the 
 improbability or the repulsiveness of the universal 
 corruption of the dramatis personce as a whole. Not 
 one of them has the smidlest consciousness of a prin- 
 ciple, or of a well-defined ditference between right 
 and wrong. The best, or (more correctly speaking) 
 the least bad, are mere creatures of impulse ; and it 
 may fairly be made a question whether such a society 
 could have been held together under such a govern- 
 ment, even with a friendly and powerful despot to
 
 364 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLE ). 
 
 prop it up. In fact, Beyle seems to have invented a 
 race of men and women to square with his own theory 
 of materialism, and to have shaped his story with an 
 exclusive view to their idiosyncrasy. Much ingenuity 
 has been displayed in contriving forced scenes for the 
 development of their peculiarities, whilst strokes of 
 refined irony, witty remarks, and clever sketches, 
 are found in sufficient number to give a tempting 
 flavour to the book ; but the plot drags and bewilders, 
 and the characters inspire no interest, because they 
 want vitality, and because (like Swift's Yahoos) they 
 are an outrage on nature and on truth. The in- 
 tended moral of the book is thus stated by the 
 author : — 
 
 " From all this, the moral to be drawn is, that the man 
 who approaches the court, compromises his happiness, if he 
 be happy, and in every case makes his future destiny depend 
 on the intrigues of difemme de chamhre. On the other side, 
 in America, in the republic, one must bore oneself all day 
 long with paying serious court to the shopkeepers of the 
 street, and become as stupid as themselves ; and there, no 
 opera ! " 
 
 Tn the concluding sentence spoke the true genius, 
 the mocking, penetrating, and Epicurean spirit of the 
 man. 
 
 It is one of the common whims or tricks of Fame 
 to reward the pioneers and champions of progress in 
 an inverse ratio to their deserts. When their victory 
 over error or prejudice is complete, the struggle is 
 speedily forgotten, and their services, sometimes their 
 very names, are forgotten too. The rising generation, 
 who have been wont to regard the presence of Victor 
 Hugo and Scribe among the illustrious Forty as a 
 thing of course, and who have crowded to the Fran- 
 9ais to see Rachel in Angela or Adrie7ine Lecouvreur^ 
 will find it difficult to believe that, less than forty 
 years since, the arm-chairs of the Academy would have 
 
 ^ 
 
 I
 
 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLE ). 3G5 
 
 been deemed desecrated by such occupants and the 
 national theatre profaned by such performances. But 
 the fact was so, and the complete change which public 
 opinion in France has undergone on this class of sub- 
 jects is owing in no slight degree to Beyle, who, in the 
 iirst grand assault on classicism, led the forlorn hope. 
 Merimee awards him the honour of havinof, so 
 to speak, discovered Italian music for j;he Parisian 
 amateurs. Saint Beuve, another high authority, says 
 that Beyle, after having smoothed the way for the 
 due appreciation of Cimarosa, Mozart, and Rossini 
 by the French, was equally successful in clearing 
 the horizon for the brilliant galaxy of writers who, 
 during the last quarter of a century, have formed the 
 pride and ornament of literature in France. When 
 he came to the rescue, the Romanticists were out- 
 numbered and hard-pressed. Whoever dared to trans- 
 gress the unities of time and place, or to depart in 
 the slightest degree from the prescriptive standards of 
 orthodoxy in language, morals, manners, or dramatic 
 action, was hooted down or proscribed ; whilst the 
 Academicians, forming a compact body of literary 
 policemen, and backed by the most influential jour- 
 nals, stood prepared to enforce or execute the decree. 
 Their ground was every way untenable, and they 
 were soon thrown into confusion by the logic, sar- 
 casms, and well-applied anecdotes of Beyle. At this 
 distance of time from the controversy, a bare state- 
 ment of the question will be enough. 
 
 "Romanticism," says Beyle, "is the art of presenting a peo- 
 ple with the literary works which, in the actual condition of 
 their habits and modes of faith, are capable of affording them 
 the greatest possible amount of pleasure. Classicism, on the 
 contrary, presents them with tlie literature which afforded 
 the very greatest possible amount of pleasure to their great- 
 grandfathers." 
 
 The " Correspondance Inedite," on which we have
 
 366 M. DE STENDHAL (hENRI BEYLe). 
 
 already drawn largely for our biographical sketch, 
 contains numerous specimens of criticism, observa- 
 tion, and description which go far towards justifying 
 the estimate of the writer's intimate friends when 
 they pronounce him to be better than his books. Un- 
 luckily, most of his letters, like his controversial writ- 
 ings, relate to bygone topics, or to publications which 
 have fallen into oblivion or quietly settled down into 
 their proper places, and either way have ceased to in- 
 spire interest enough to give zest to a commentary. 
 
 Beyle's " History of Painting in Italy," which he 
 transcribed seventeen times, fell still-born. His essay 
 " De L' Amour," as we are candidly informed in the 
 preface to the new edition, shared the" same fate. 
 He told Madame Ancelot that the publisher, after 
 waiting five years without selling a copy, sold the 
 entire impression for ballast. Yet, despite his para- 
 doxes and caprices, he must have been a very enter- 
 taining and instructive cicerone ; and, too frequently 
 imbedded in masses of broken thought and incomplete 
 theory, more than one specimen of his happiest man- 
 ner will be found in this neglected volume upon 
 Love. Take, for example, the introductory part of 
 the story, entitled " Le Rameau de Salzbourg." 
 
 " At the mines of Hallein, near Salzbourg, the miners 
 throw into the pits that have been abandoned a bough strip- 
 ped of its leaves : two or three months afterwards they find 
 it entirely covered with brilliant crystallisations. The smallest 
 branches, those which are not larger than the claw of a tit- 
 mouse, are incrusted with an Infinity of little glancing and 
 glittering crystals. The primitive bough Is no longer to be 
 recognised. The miners never fall, when the sun Is bright 
 and the air perfectly dry, to offer these branches of diamonds 
 to the travellers who are about to descend into the mine." 
 
 We omit the description of the party with whom 
 the author visited these mines. All that it is neces-
 
 M. DE STENDHAL (hENRI BEYLE ), 367 
 
 sary to know is, that one of his companions was a 
 beautiful Italian. 
 
 "During our preparations for the descent, which were 
 long, I amused myself with observing what was passing in 
 the head of a good-looking fair-complexioned Bavarian officer 
 of hussars, who, although very handsome, had nothing of the 
 coxcomb about him, and on the contrary appeared to be an 
 homme d'esprit ; it was Madame Gherardi (familiarly called 
 the Ghita) who made the discovery. I saw him falling in 
 love at first sight with the charming Italian, who was beside 
 herself with pleasure at the thousfht of our soon findino- our- 
 selves five hundred feet under ground, and was a thousand 
 miles from the thought of making conquests. Before long 
 I was astonished at the strange confidences which the officer 
 made to me unconsciously. I warned Madame Gherardi, 
 who, but for me, would have lost this spectacle to which 
 perhaps a young woman is never insensible. What struck 
 me most was the shade of insanity which unceasingly in- 
 creased in his reflections. He kept finding in this woman 
 perfections more and more invisible to my eyes. Every 
 moment what he said painted with less resemblance the 
 woman he was beginning to love. I said to myself, the Ghita 
 cannot be the cause of all the transports of this poor German. 
 For example, he began praising her hand, which had been 
 affected in a singular manner by the small-pox, and liad re- 
 mained very pitted and very brown. 
 
 " How to explain what I see ? said I to myself. Where 
 find a comparison to elucidate my thought ? At this moment, 
 Madame Gherardi was playing with the branch covered with 
 crystals which the miners had just given her. There was a 
 bright sunshine : it was the third of August, and the little 
 saline prisms shone as brilliantly as the finest diamonds in a 
 well-lighted ball-room. ... I told the Ghita, ' The effect 
 produced upon this yonng man by the nobleness of your 
 Italian features, by those eyes such as he never saw before, 
 is precisely similar to that which the crystallisation lias pro- 
 duced on the little branch which you hold in your hand and 
 think so pretty. Stripped of its leaves by the winter, it was 
 surely nothing less than dazzling. The crystallisation of the 
 salt has covered the blackened bough with these diamonds, so
 
 368 M. DE STENDHAL (nENRI BEYLe). 
 
 brilliant and so numerous, that except in a few places we can 
 no longer see the branches as they are.' 
 
 " ' Well, and what is your conclusion ? ' said Madame 
 Gherardi. * That this bough,' I replied, ' faithfully represents 
 the Ghita, such as she is seen in the imagination of this young 
 officer.' 
 
 " ' That is to say, that you perceive as much difference 
 between what I am in reality and the luanncr in which this 
 amiable young man regards me, as between a little branch of 
 dried elm and the pretty aigrette of diamonds which these 
 miners have presented to me ! ' 
 
 " ' Madame, the young officer discovers In you qualities 
 that we, your old friends, have never seen. For example, 
 we should never perceive an air of tender and compassionate 
 honte. As this young man is a German, the first quality of a 
 woman in his eyes is honte, and forthwith he rea'dsthe expres- 
 sion of it in your face. If he was an Englishman, he would 
 endow you with the aristocratic and "lady-like" air of a 
 duchess ; but if he were I, he would see you such as you are, 
 because for many a day, and to my misfortune, I can imagine 
 nothing more fascinating.' " 
 
 The thought may have occurred to others, as when 
 Congreve's Mirabel says to Millamant, — " You are no 
 longer handsome when you have lost your lover; 
 your beauty dies upon the instant: for beauty is 
 the lover's gift ; 'tis he bestows your charms ; your 
 glass is all a cheat." But the theory was never so 
 iully developed, or so gracefully expressed, and 
 Beyle's carelessness, as well as his unreasonableness, 
 in complaining of not being understood, may be esti- 
 mated from the fact that this story, which is the key- 
 note of the book, was discovered amongst his papers, 
 and first appeared in the posthumous edition. He 
 has an odd theory to account for the alleged insen- 
 sibility of Englishwomen : — 
 
 " In England the wealthy classes, tired of staying at home, 
 and under pretext of necessary exercise, complete their three 
 or four leagues a day, as If man were created and placed on
 
 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLE ). 369 
 
 the globe to trot. In this manner they consume the nervous 
 fluid by the legs and not by the heart. After which, forsooth, 
 they presume to talk of feminine delicacy, and to despise 
 Spain and Italy. Nothing, on the contrary, can be moi'e 
 free from occupation than the young Italians ; the motion 
 which would deprive them of their sensibility is disagreeable 
 to them. They may walk half a league occasionally as a 
 painful security for health : as to the women, a Roman beauty 
 does not take in a year as much exercise as a young miss in a 
 week." 
 
 Beyle might have learnt that a young miss exercises 
 her mind as well as her body ; and it is a strange per- 
 versity of morals to claim the palm of " feminine deli- 
 cacy " for women, who (if we may trust their eulogist) 
 are trained to become languishing or capricious 
 mistresses instead of faithful wives or intellectual 
 companions, and taught that intrigue, not duty, is 
 and ought to be the chief business and grand object 
 of their lives. We shall conclude our extracts with 
 an anecdote and a shrewd remark. 
 
 " Ought not the true pride of a woman to be placed in the 
 energy of the sentiment she inspires? The courtiers of 
 Francis the First were joking one of the queen-mother's maids 
 of honour about the inconstancy of her lover, who, they said, 
 had no real love for her. A short time afterwards this lover 
 was taken ill, and reappeared at court dumb. One day, at 
 the end of three years, when the same persons were expressing 
 their astonishment at her loving him still, she said to him, 
 * Speak ; ' and he spoke. 
 
 " It not unfrequently happens that a clever man, in paying 
 court to a woman, has done no more than make her think 
 of love, and predispose her heart. She encourages this clever 
 man, who gives her this pleasure. He conceives hopes. One 
 fine day this woman meets the man who makes her feel what 
 the other has described." 
 
 It is a redeeming feature in Beyle's character, to 
 be set against a host of errors, that, in what he terms 
 
 VOL. L B B
 
 370 M. DE STENDHAL (heNRI BEYLE). 
 
 his affairs of the heart, he was remarkable for tlie 
 delicacy and depth of his feelings, and the constancy 
 of his attachment. " There was one woman," says 
 Merimee, " whose name he could never pronounce 
 without trepidation in his voice. In 1836 (he was 
 then fifty-three) he spoke to me of his love with 
 profound emotion. An affection, which dated very 
 far back, was no longer returned. His mistress was 
 growing reasonable, and he was as madly in love as 
 at twenty. ' How can you still love me ?' she asked; 
 ' I am forty-five.' ' In my eyes,' said Beyle, ' she is 
 as young as when we first met.' Then, with that 
 spirit of observation which never left him, he detailed 
 all the little symptoms of growing indifference that 
 he had remarked. ' After all,' he said, ' her conduct 
 is rational. She was fond of whist. She is fond of 
 it no longer : so much the worse for me if I am still 
 fond of whist. She is of a country where ridicule is 
 the greatest of evils. To love at her age is ridiculous. 
 Durinor ei";hteen months she has risked this evil for 
 my sake. This makes eigliteen months of happiness 
 that I have stolen from her.' " 
 
 Beyle, always too stout for elegance, grew corpulent 
 as he advanced in years, and his portrait, as sketched 
 by his friend M. Colomb, does not convey the im- 
 pression of an homme aux bonnes fortunes. But his 
 brow was fine, his eye lively and penetrating, his 
 mouth expressive, and his hand cast in so fine a 
 mould that a celebrated sculptor applied for per- 
 mission to take a cast of it for a statue of Mirabeau. 
 
 The utmost space we feel justified in devoting to 
 this remarkable man is exhausted, and we cannot now 
 notice any other of his works. AYe will merely add 
 one observation which is equally applicable to all of 
 them. They belong pre-eminently to what he calls 
 the class of insolent works, which require and compel 
 
 i
 
 M. DE STENDHAL ( HENRI BEYLE ). 371 
 
 readers to think ; and if (as many apprehend) the 
 prevalent fashion for cheap reprints should end by 
 deteriorating literature and lowering the popular 
 taste, there will be some comfort in reflecting that it 
 has occasionally rescued from unmerited neglect the 
 name and writings of a man of thought, observation 
 and sensibility, like Beyle. 
 
 B B 2
 
 372 
 
 PIEERE DUPONT. 
 
 (From the Morning Chronicle, May 1851.) 
 
 An imprudent and (it is to be hoped) abortive at- 
 tempt has recently been made in France to frighten 
 the higher classes and the bourgeoisie into a belief 
 that the Jacquerie of the fourteenth century will be 
 renewed, unless every manifestation of popular feel- 
 ing is instantly suppressed by force. " Our only 
 hope is in bayonets and grape-shot" — Vartillerie contre 
 Vimpinmerie^^^ exclaims M. Romieu, the author of the 
 " Spectre Rouge," in which every topic or argument 
 that can excite alarm, or provoke recrimination, has 
 been unsparingly employed. The ghost has been 
 pretty effectually laid for some time to come by a 
 temperate, well-reasoned, and high-toned article from 
 the pen of M. Lamartine, in a recent number of " Le 
 Pays." But if any of our readers have been led to 
 suppose that the French peasantry have retrograded 
 in civilisation, or are at all likely to repeat in 1852 
 the atrocities of 1358, we recommend them to pro- 
 cure, and study attentively, a little volume entitled 
 "Muse Populaire — Pierre Dupont — Chants et Poe- 
 sies." These " Chants et Poesies " are now sellin"- 
 by hundreds of thousands amongst the French work- 
 people, particularly in the rural districts. 
 
 Dupont's popularity with the lower order of his 
 countrymen undoubtedly exceeds that of Beranger 
 in the full height and freshness of his fame. Why is 
 this ? Is the younger poet rougher, coarser, less re- 
 fined ? Does he address himself more directly to 
 their passions and prejudices ? Does he deal more in 
 local and ephemeral feelings and associations ? Is he
 
 PIERRE DUPONT. 373 
 
 more essentially or conventionally French ? Does he 
 flatter their national vanity more adroitly ? The re- 
 verse of all this is the fact. Dupont (though inferior 
 in wit) deals more in general nature than his distin- 
 guished predecessor in the same line. His politics 
 are merged and forgotten in his poetry. There is 
 not a shade of bitterness in his bursts of patriotic 
 indignation ; and we think no more of what are 
 termed his socialist tendencies, when reading or lis- 
 tening to his songs, than we think of the " White- 
 boyism " and " Captain Rockism " which pervade so 
 many of the most popular of Moore's Irish melodies. 
 Moreover, it should always be kept in mind that 
 " Socialism " has gradually become a generic term 
 for all shades of democratic opinion. It has no neces- 
 sary connection with Communism, nor is it irrecon- 
 cilable with the most unflinching attachment to social 
 order and the principle of property. The whole of 
 Dupont's Socialism consists in conceiving a popular 
 Republic best suited to France, and in a conviction 
 that a well constituted Government might effectually 
 intervene at all times for the relief of distressed 
 branches of industry. He is a believer in the " re- 
 munerative-price " doctrine, and in the possibility of 
 ensuring to every man " a fair day's pay for a fair 
 day's work." In other words, he is merely Socialist 
 in the sense in which our English Protectionists may 
 be so described ; the chief difference being that he 
 would legislate with the view of elevating the condi- 
 tion of tlie poor, whilst they are prepared to reverse 
 every sound principle of commerce and finance to 
 swell the incomes of the landed aristocracy. So much 
 for the rising poet's politics. Let us now turn to the 
 far more important and interesting chapter of his life. 
 Pierre Dupont was born at Lyons, on the 23rd of 
 April, 1821. His father was a forgeron^ for which 
 " blacksmith " is the nearest, although incorrect, 
 
 B u 3
 
 374 PIEREE DUPONT. 
 
 translation. His mother, an Italian by race, died 
 when he was only four years and a half old ; and his 
 early training was undertaken by his uncle, a priest, 
 with whom he remained until he had attained his 
 ninth year. He was then removed to a college or 
 school of some note in the neighbourhood, the same 
 in which many eminent living members of the Gallic 
 Church, and at least one politician of note (Jules 
 Favre), received their elementary education. At 
 fourteen he was taken from school, and placed as 
 clerk in a banking-house at Lyons, where he con- 
 tinued seven years. This was the critical and (so to 
 speak) forming period of his career. His passion for 
 rural life — for woods, streams, meadows, -and flowers 
 — was rather stimulated than repressed by his com- 
 pelled residence in a town ; and two events occurred 
 during his clerkship which each in its peculiar way 
 contributed to call out his latent powers and suscep- 
 tibilities. He fell in love, and he became an unre- 
 mitting student of Balzac. The object of his passion 
 was of a rank far superior to his own, and may pro- 
 bably be detected under the disguise of " Eusebe," 
 in the sons: so entitled : — 
 
 o 
 
 " A sa fenetre il I'a surprise 
 
 Se regardant a son miroir; 
 II erre, du pare a I'eglise, 
 
 Dans les taillis pour rentrevoir : 
 Elle est grande, leste et mignonne ; 
 
 De la chevelure au Soulier, 
 On voit qu'elle est une baronne, 
 
 Et lui n'est rien qu'un ecolier." 
 
 She so far smiled upon him as to receive some 
 occasional verses — from Avhich (it is whispered) she 
 inferred his future fame — and to permit latterly the 
 daily presentation of a bouquet, which he purchased 
 with his scanty savings when he Was not able to go 
 into the woods to pluck wild flowers for her. In an 
 autograph note of his life which now lies before us,
 
 PIERRE DUPONT. 375 
 
 the words pur et platonique indicate the nature of this 
 his first love ; to which we can hardly err in at- 
 tributing the exquisitely refined character of all his 
 amatory songs, which (unlike Beranger's, or even 
 Moore's) do not contain a single allusion offensive to 
 the nicest delicacy. The constant perusal of Balzac, 
 also, must have aided largely in teaching him the (for a 
 poet of sentiment) indispensable anatomy of the heart. 
 He came to Paris in 1842, with vague and half- 
 formed hopes of winning fame and fortune by his 
 pen. An incident which bade fair to crush his 
 expectations at starting, became strangely and unex- 
 pectedly the means of realising them. He was drawn 
 a conscript, and compelled to join a regiment of Chas- 
 seurs at Huninguen, where he remained three months 
 without doing any kind of duty, or even wearing the 
 uniform — the officers, it appears, having had quicker 
 eyes for genius, or a juster appreciation of its claims, 
 than those of the regiment in which Coleridge enlisted 
 as a common soldier, in his youth. Prior to Dupont's 
 departure for Huninguen, he had finished his first 
 work, entitled "Les Deux Anges," now out of print. 
 This is a collection of poetical impressions rather than a 
 regular poem, and bears about the same relation to the 
 ''Muse Populaire" which the "Hours of Idleness" bears 
 to "Childe Harold" or "Don Juan." The true string yet 
 remained to be touched; or Dupont partially resembled 
 the object of his earliest admiration, Balzac, who pub- 
 lished (under the name of Horace Raison) more than 
 thirty volumes of novels without attracting public 
 favour. But the promise of future excellence in "Les 
 Deux Anges" did not escape one excellent judge of 
 literary merit. M. Lebrun (the author of " Marie 
 Stuart ") was struck by the work, and prevailed upon 
 his brother academicians to subscribe to it. The pro- 
 ceeds proved sufficient to pay a remplaqant, and 
 Dupont returned to Paris a free man. 
 
 B B 4
 
 376 PIERRE DUPONT. 
 
 The Academy prize in 1842 was decreed to him, 
 and he Avas temporarily provided for by a place in 
 the Dictionary Department of the Academy, where 
 his duty Avas to trace the history and perfect the 
 definitions of words. His reading was already very 
 extensive, and he now materially enlarged its range, 
 lie read the best Roman Classics in the oriainal, and 
 the Greek, Italian, German, and English masterpieces 
 in translation. Shakespeare and Goethe were his fa- 
 vourites, and ample proofs of his familiarity with their 
 beauties might be collected from his con)positions. 
 But it was not by classical taste or acquired know- 
 ledge that he was destined to become famous. His 
 most cherished associations were rural — his more ar- 
 dent ambition was to be the exponent of the thoughts, 
 feelings, wants, and wishes of the peasantry. In this 
 mood of mind he' composed his song, " Les Boeufs," and 
 its success was instantaneous, indeed far greater than 
 an English reader or critic can satisfactorily explain 
 on any ordinary hypothesis. It merely embodies the 
 enthusiastic attachment of the peasant proprietor or 
 small fiirmer to the two dumb companions of his toil 
 — his deux grands hoeufs hlancs marques de roux. We 
 give the concluding verse, with the refrain : — 
 
 " Quand notre fiUe sera grande, 
 Si le fils de notre regent 
 En mariage la demande, 
 Je lui promets tout mon argent ; 
 Mais si pour dot il veut qu'on donne 
 Les grands boeufs blancs marques de roux ; 
 Ma fille, laissons la couronne 
 Et ramenons les boeufs chez nous. 
 
 S'il me fixllait les vendre, 
 J'aimerais mieux me pendre ; 
 J'aime Jeanne ma femme, eh bien ! j'aimerais mieux 
 La voir mourir, que voir mourir mes boeufs." 
 
 " Les Boeufs " was followed in rapid succession by 
 five or six other song?, similarly devoted to rural objects, 
 but in a higher style. Amongst the earliest was " Les
 
 PIERRE DUPONT. 377 
 
 Ouvriers," for which a Paris publisher (Furne) gave 
 5000f. (200/.) ; a conclusive proof of almost unpre- 
 cedented popularity. It was published in 1846 and 
 without (as we have heard him state repeatedly) the 
 slightest reference to political objects. It contains a 
 touching and startling picture of the miseries of the 
 working class in many districts of France. But it is 
 purely descriptive and sympathetic. It contains no 
 incentive to insurrection ; and the privilege of revelling 
 in the enjoyment of natural beauty is the temptation 
 to change which it sets before the wretched : — 
 
 " Mai vetus, loges dans des trous, 
 Sous les combles, dans les decombres, 
 Nous vivons avec les hiboux 
 Et les larrons amis des ombres; 
 Cependant notre sang vermeil 
 Coule impetueux dans nos veines; 
 Nous nous plairons au grand soleil, 
 Et sous les rameaux verts des chenes." 
 
 An intelligent and accomplished, although rather 
 harsh critic, M. Sainte-Beuve, after blaming the 
 democratic tone of one or two of the songs, thus 
 bears ample testimony to their general tone and in- 
 fluence : — " The distinctive feature of the ' Muse 
 Populaire ' is that it is, above all, pacific, consolatory, 
 affectionate — that the song of each craft {metier) ex- 
 presses its joy, even its pride and soft satisfaction — 
 that it accompanies and lightens its labours — that it 
 makes its moments happier and renders them more 
 gay and light. How happens it, says Horace, that 
 no one is content with his own lot, and is always 
 envying his neighbours ? The effect of the song of 
 each metier ought to be, on the contrary, to make each 
 feel, whilst he is singing it, an internal pride in his 
 pursuit — to make him decidedly prefer it to other 
 callings, always without contempt, without insult, 
 and Avithout bitterness." To show that this effect 
 has been produced by Dupont, we have only to refer
 
 378 PIERRE DUPONT. 
 
 to such songs as " Le Tisserand," or " La Chanson 
 de la Soie." The last affords a striking example of 
 felicitous transition from melancholy to gladness — 
 from despondency to hope. The supposed scene is a 
 silk manufactory : — 
 
 " Dans ce labyrinthc des fees, 
 L'esprit cmerveille se perd. 
 Mais combien d'ames etouflces 
 Dans ce travail, comme le ver ! 
 J'entendais une jeune fiUe 
 Dire en pleurant sur son fuseau : 
 ' Je suis coniine Thumble chenille, 
 ' Et je file aussi nion tombeau.' 
 
 " A vos fuseaux, chantez fileuses, 
 Cbante canut a ton metier, 
 Car vos beures laborieuses 
 Fleuriront comme I'eglantier. 
 Voila votre tour qui s'avance : 
 Voyez le bal etincelant 
 Ou chaque epousee entre en danse, 
 En beaux habits de satin blanc. 
 
 " Filez moulins, glissez navettes, 
 Tissez le satin, le velours ; 
 Faites des robes de toilettes, 
 Faites des nids a nos amours." 
 
 The refrain of " Le Tisserand " is — 
 
 " Des deux pieds battant men metier, 
 Je tisse, et ma navette passe, 
 EUe siffle, passe et repasse, 
 Etje C7'ois entendre crier 
 Une hirundelle dans Venpace" 
 
 Here again we see the indestructible love of nature 
 peeping out. He is not unfrequently raised by it to 
 more than beauty, to sublimity. Wordsworth 
 himself was hardly more richly gifted in this respect, 
 and some of the poet of Rydal Mount's finest sonnets 
 would not gain by being placed alongside of som'e 
 lines of " Les Sapins: " — 
 
 " Ses blancs piliers, un souffle les balance 
 Sans plus d'effort que les simples roseaux : 
 
 I
 
 PIEREE DUPONT. 379 
 
 Choeur vegetal, symphonie, orgue immense 
 Qui darde au ciel d'innombrables tuyaux. 
 
 Dieu d'harmonie et de beaute ! 
 Par qui le sapin fut plante. 
 Par qui la bruyere est benie, 
 - J'adore ton genie 
 
 '"^' Dans sa simplicite." 
 
 Such verses as the following on the " Veronique " 
 are Wordsworthian in the best sense of the term : — 
 
 " Fleurs touchantes du sacrifice, 
 Mortes, vous savez nous guerir. 
 Je vois dans votre humble calice 
 Le ciel entier s'epanouir. 
 O veroniques, sous les cbenes 
 Fleurissez pour les simples coeurs 
 Qui dans les traverses humaines, 
 
 Vont cherchant les petites lleurs. 
 
 " Donees a voir, 6 veroniques, 
 Vous ne durez qu'une heure ou deux. 
 Fugitives et sympaihiques 
 Comnies des regards amoureux." 
 
 The amatory and sentimental songs err on a side 
 which will hardly be anticipated. They are too 
 dreamy, too ideal, too " Platonic and pure." To 
 most of them might be applied what female critics of 
 no mean authority say of his features — that they are 
 attractive, regular, expressive of every good and gene- 
 rous feeling, but wanting in that look or air Avhicli 
 seems to whisper that V amour a passe par la. This 
 is true, as these ladies probably understand amour — 
 merely as a wearing, wasting, agitating, unwholesome, 
 and illicit luxury — for Dupont has been married for 
 some years to a woman in his own original rank of 
 life, and is devotedly attached to her. 
 
 " La Chataine," however, affords ample evidence 
 that he has been made acquainted, perhaps to his 
 cost, with that most fascinating creation of artificial 
 and over-refined life, a Parisian coquette: — 
 
 " Est-il une taille inieux prise, 
 Un pied fluet plus doux a voir,
 
 380 PIERRE DUPONT. 
 
 Une forme plus indecise 
 
 Sous les dentelles du peij^noir ? 
 
 Qu'un amouroux transi soupire 
 
 Et s'egare en vceux iuiprudents, 
 
 Son musical eclat de rire 
 
 Dans leur ecrin montre ses dents." 
 
 " EUe est chanjjeante, ma chataine, 
 Comme les reflets du lezard, 
 Et le cliarme de son regard 
 Est un filet <]^ui vous enchaine." 
 
 We should hear speeches spoken, and songs sung, 
 to arrive at a just and complete estimate of them. 
 It can never be fair to either orator or cliansonnier to 
 judge him coldly and calmly in the closet. The effect 
 of Dupont's singing is electricaL It is musrcal aiM im- 
 passioned recitation rather than ordinary singing ; it 
 is something: betAveen Moore and Mrs. Arkwrio;ht. 
 He commonly sings at table, without instrumental 
 accompaniment, and every word is distinctly arti- 
 culated. His voice is rather husky or hoarse, till he 
 warms ; but when he sees from the kindling glances 
 of his audience that he is carrying them along with 
 him, it becomes full, clear, flexible, and sonorous, and 
 lends itself harmoniously to every variety of fancy, 
 sentiment, or thought. The rank of his company 
 makes not the smallest difference in his demeanour, 
 nor in his willingness to pour himself out in verse 
 and music. He talks with the same ease and abandon 
 with which he sinj^'s. The notion of beino; lionised 
 has apparently never crossed his mind. He fortu- 
 nately feels that the giddy circles of the heau moiide, 
 with their alluring refinement and frivolity, are no 
 safe abiding-place for creative genius, which requires 
 to be nursed, matured, and occasionally re-invigorated 
 by solitude. His imagination deserts hiin in the 
 town ; and he invariably betakes himself to the forest, 
 when he meditates a new production. 
 
 The best likeness of Dupont is a sketch in chalks by
 
 PIERRE DUPONT. 381 
 
 Gigoux, an historical painter of merit. The artist 
 has consciously or unconsciously supplied the very 
 expression which the ladies declare to be wanting 
 in the living poet. But is not this a mistake ? or 
 is it well to sanction the popular (and essentially 
 feminine) error, that genius, like the liver of the 
 Strasbourg goose, can only be brouglit to its highest 
 perfection by disease and suffering ? or that every 
 buoyant, joyous, and elastic temperament must be 
 alien and averse from poetry ?
 
 382 
 
 LORD ELDON, 
 
 AND THE CHANCES OF THE BAE. 
 (From the Edinburgh Review, July 1844.) 
 
 The Public and Private Life of Lord Chancellor Eldun : loith 
 Selections from his Correspondence. By HoRACE TwiSS, 
 Ejjq., one of Her Majesty's Counsel. 3 vols. 8vo. London : 
 1844. 
 
 This is not only a valuable but a very agreeable 
 book ; much more so than we thought a Life of Lord 
 Eldon, in three thick octavos, could be made. The 
 announcement, we own, rather appalled than glad- 
 dened us. We saw, in our mind's eye, Mr. Twiss's 
 copying-clerk unceasingly at work. We anticipated 
 whole chapters of debates on Catholic Emancipation, 
 Chancery Reform, Reform in Parliament, and other 
 great public questions ; and we internally vowed that 
 no human consideration should induce us to recom- 
 mence a series of exhausted controversies. We have 
 been pleasantly disappointed. Mr. Twiss is evidently 
 as tired of such matters as ourselves. He has given 
 us just so much of them as are necessary to prevent 
 chasms in the narrative ; but the staple of the work 
 consists of letters (many from royal personages) 
 supplied by the family ; the curious biographical 
 details which have appeared in the " Law Maga- 
 zine^ ;" a manuscript book of anecdotes and observa- 
 tions dotted down by Lord Eldon himself for his 
 grandson, (new " Tales of a Grandfather ; ") and 
 notes of conversations with the old Lord shortlv 
 
 (^) Reprinted in Townsbend's " Lives of Twelve Eminent Judges."
 
 LORD ELDON. 383 
 
 before his death, made by Mr. Farrer and two mem- 
 bers of the family. No biographer could possess 
 richer materials, and few biographers would have 
 made so good a use of them. Some of the old stories 
 inight have been omitted, and some of the letters 
 thrown into an appendix ; but without being hyper- 
 critical, it would be difficult to suggest any fresh 
 distribution of parts, any cuttings-out or fillings-up, 
 by which the publication would be essentially im- 
 proved ; and it is generally allowed that those pas- 
 sages where Mr. Twiss comes forward in his own 
 person, such as his political portraits, are judiciously 
 interspersed and extremely well written. 
 
 Of course the book is a partial book. What life or 
 memoir of a public man is not? Of course Mr. Twiss, 
 a Tory though a Canningite, is occasionally unjust 
 to Whigs; for even the truth-loving Dr. Johnson, 
 when he wrote the debates of the House o^ Commons, 
 always took care, he says, that the Whig dogs should 
 have the worst of it. But it is beside our present 
 purpose to undertake an examination of the work 
 under its political aspects. Neither is it our inten- 
 tion to compose a fresh abstract or abridgement of 
 the narrative, though this is both the easiest and 
 pleasantest way of dealing with volumes of biography. 
 It is one, however, which can only be employed 
 effectively by first-comers ; and owing to the pressure 
 of other subjects and engagements, we happen to be 
 among the last. Indeed, little or nothing seems left 
 for us but to point the moral and adorn the tale ; 
 and our more peculiar object in this article will be, 
 to compare Lord Eldon's career with that of other 
 great lawjx^rs ; to form a precise estimate of his 
 talents and opportunities ; to ascertain what he owed 
 to merit and what to fortune ; and pronounce where 
 his example should be followed, as well as when (for 
 this will sometimes happen) it should be shunned.
 
 384 LORD ELDON. 
 
 In analysing the causes of his rise, we shall neces- 
 sarily be led to take a view of the general qualifi- 
 cations for success at the bar, and the difficulties 
 which beset the aspirant to forensic honours. But 
 we do not think this will prove the most uninterest- 
 ing or unacceptable part of this article. There is 
 hardly a family among the educated classes that has 
 not a relative, connection, or intimate acquaintance, 
 embarked in the struggle : all these will be glad to 
 learn what expectations they are justified in forming, 
 and how they may best advance the fortunes of their 
 favourites ; while some will not be sorry to repair an 
 involuntary injustice when they find, that, in this as 
 well as in every other walk of life, it is one thing to 
 merit, and another to command, prosperity. 
 
 We are the more anxious to take this opportunity 
 for explaining the true nature of the forensic career, 
 with the circumstances that influence it, because no 
 subject is so little understood. One popular fallacy 
 meets us at the very threshold. Lord Eldon, the son 
 of a wealthy trader, is said to have done wonders in 
 overcoming the disadvantages of birth ; and no longer 
 ago than the last session, Sir Robert Peel, in justi- 
 fying the re-appointment of Lord Lyndhurst to the 
 Great Seal, dwelt much less on his great experience, 
 sagacity, and fine judicial understanding, than on his 
 havino- risen by his own exertions from (what the 
 Premier was pleased to term) comparative obscurity 
 to the highest civic station next the throne. When 
 such notions are sanctioned by such authority, it is 
 time to probe them to the root. 
 
 A little book was published recently, entitled "The 
 Grandeur of the Law," by Mr. Foss, from which it 
 appears that more than seventy British peerages 
 have been founded by successful lawyers, the duke- 
 doms of Norfolk and Devonshire being of the number. 
 Sir William Howard, a judge in the reigns of Edward
 
 LORD ELDON. 385 
 
 the First and Edward the Second, was the founder 
 of the Howard family ; Sir John de Cavendish, Lord 
 Chief-Justice in the reigns of Edward the Third and 
 Richard the Second, of the Cavendishes. But the 
 'church in those days was the only profession which 
 afforded the lowly- born a chance; judgeships were 
 conferred by the Plantagenets without much regard 
 to judicial qualities ; and it will be found, upon 
 nice inquiry, tliat the majority of those who rose 
 to eminence, through the law, prior to the seven- 
 teenth century, were men of good family, or connected 
 with the great. There is an ordinance, signed by 
 Bacon, closing the Inns of Court against all but 
 gentlemen entitled to coat armour. Indeed, it was 
 not until the beginning of the eighteenth that the lists 
 were thrown open to all comers, and the prizes fairly 
 distributed ; but, dating from that period, the self- 
 dependent competitors have had their full share of 
 them. 
 
 Lord Somers' father was an attorney at Worcester ; 
 Lord Hardwieke's, an attorney at Dover; Lord King's, 
 a grocer at Exeter; the late Lord Gifford's (by an 
 odd coincidence), a grocer in the same city ; Lord 
 Thurlow's, a poor country clergyman * ; Lord Ken- 
 yon 's, a gentleman of small estate in Wales ; Dun- 
 ning's, an attorney at Ashburton ; Sir Yicary Gibbs', 
 a surgeon and apothecary at Exeter -f ; Sir Samuel 
 Romillj^'s, a jeweller, though of a good refugee family ; 
 Sir Samuel Shepherd's (as we learn from a memoir 
 by his son), a goldsmith; Lord Tenterden's, a barber 
 at Canterbury, described as "a little, erect, primitive- 
 
 * When Thurlow was Chancellor, some one, wishing to flatter liini, 
 sujrgested that he was descended from Thurlow, the Secretary of Crom- 
 well. "No, sir," was the gruff reply ; " there were two Tliurlows in our 
 <'ounty in tliose days, Tluirlow the secretary and Thurlow the carrier. 
 I am descended from the carrier." 
 
 f The air of this city seems congenial to forensic talents. Sir William 
 FoUelt was born in the iinnieiliate neighbourhood. 
 
 VOL. I. CO
 
 386 LORD ELDON. 
 
 looking man, Avith a large club pig-tail, going about 
 Avitli the instruments of his business under one arm, 
 and attended by his son Charles (the future Chief- 
 Justice), a youth as decent, grave, and primitive- 
 lookinjr, as himself." Lord Mansfield and Lord 
 Erskine were men of family ; but all Lord Mansfield 
 got by his noble connections were a few briefs in 
 Scotch appeal cases ; and Erskine, just about the 
 time when he was called to the bar, was heard em- 
 phatically thanking God, that, out of his own family, 
 he did not know a lord. It would have been more 
 to the purpose to thank God that he did know an 
 attorney ; but he judged riglitly in supposing that his 
 noble blood would be of no avail. Tlie reason is 
 stated by Sergeant (the late Mr. Justice) Talfourd in 
 his " Essay on the Bar." After explaining the com- 
 position of the class with whom the distribution of 
 business rests, and the absolute necessity for those 
 rules of etiquette which strangers are apt to ridicule, 
 he continues : — 
 
 " But no rule of etiquette, however strict, and no feelings 
 of delicacy, however nice and generous, can prevent a man, 
 who has connections among attorneys, from possessing a great 
 advantage over his equals who have none. It is natural that 
 his friends should think highly of him, and desire to assist 
 him ; and it would l)e absurd to expect that he should disnp- 
 point them by refusing their briefs, wlien conscious of ability 
 to do them justice. Hence a youth, born and educated in 
 the middle ranks of life, who is able to struggle to the bar, 
 has often a far better chance of speedy success than a gentle- 
 man of rank and family. This consideration may lessen the 
 wonder, so often expressed, at the number of men who have 
 arisen to eminence in the law from comparatively humble 
 stations. Without industry and talent, they would have done 
 little ; but, perhaps, with lioth these they might have done 
 less, if their early fame had not been nurtured by those to 
 whom their success was a favourite object, and whose zeal 
 afforded them at once opportunity and stimulus, which to 
 more elevated adventurers are wanting." 
 
 tl 
 i
 
 LORD ELDON. 387 
 
 Lord Eldon's father was a general trader at New- 
 castle. His principal employment was that of a coal- 
 fitter or coal- factor (the person who conducts the 
 sales between the owner and shipper ;) but, according 
 to- a memorandum kept by the son, his dealings were 
 not limited to one commodity : — 
 
 "Malt; coals; ships; underwriting ships ; grindstones for 
 foreign countries; coal forges on the Tyne, 12, 13, 14, or 
 16, two men each, all the year; sole owner of a sugar-house 
 in Newcastle; owner of various houses and large gardens; 
 l)0ught two estates in the county of Durham. Lord Stowell 
 never would sell them after his father's death, because they 
 were his father's. At his death, there were few persons in 
 Newcastle town of substance equal." 
 
 When we add that the property left to Lord 
 Stowell alone amounted to 25,0(>0/., the supposed 
 marvel is at an end. Lord Eldon had as fair a start 
 in point of birth and connexion as nineteen out of 
 twenty of his contemporaries. So (with due deference 
 to Sir Robert Peel) had the present Lord Chancellor 
 (Lyndhurst). We do not say this to detract from 
 their merits, but to fix the precise value of the ex- 
 amples they hold up. 
 
 The Scotts received their school education at the 
 grammar-school of Newcastle. Lord Collingwood was 
 Lord Eldon's class-fellow. " We were placed at that 
 school," said Lord Eldon, " because neither his father 
 nor mine could afford to place us elsewhere." They 
 lay under no disadvantage on that account, and Lord 
 Eldon felt that they did not. He is always eager to 
 do justice to the merits of his old master, the Rev. 
 Mr. Moises, and tells, with evident satisfaction, the 
 anecdote of the king (George HL) expressing his 
 surprise how a naval officer could write so excellent 
 a despatch as that which contained Collingwood's 
 account of the battle of Trafalgar, and suddeidy 
 adding, " but I find he was educated by Moises.'' 
 
 c c 2
 
 388 LOUD ELDON. 
 
 The foundation of the two brothers' fortune Avas laid 
 by WiUiam (Lord Stowell), who in his sixteentli year 
 obtained a scholarship at Corpus Christi College, 
 Oxford, and followed up this first university success 
 so effectually, that in 1766, when the father wrote to 
 notify an intention of making his j^oungest son a 
 fitter, he was enabled to reply — "Send Jack up to 
 me; 1 can do better for him here." Jack was ac- 
 cordingly matriculated in 1 766, being then fifteen, 
 and the year following elected to a fellowship. As it 
 is not recorded that any competition took place, he 
 was probably the only member of the college duly 
 qualified as to county. He took his bachelor's degree 
 in February 1770. " An examination foY a degree at 
 Oxford," he used to say, " was a farce in my time. 
 I was examined in Hebrew and in History." ' What 
 is the Hebrew for the place of a skull ? ' I replied, 
 ' Golgotha.' ' Who founded University College ? " 
 I stated (though, by the way the point is sometimes 
 doubted) 'that King Alfred founded it.' 'Very 
 well, sir,' said the examiner, ' you are competent for 
 your degree.' " 
 
 We have consequently no means of ascertaining 
 liow far he became a proficient in the peculiar studies 
 of the place ; but, the year following, he won the 
 Chancellor's prize for the best composition in English 
 prose — the subject being, the " Advantages and Dis- 
 advantages of Foreign Travel." It would be unrea- 
 sonable to expect any depth of thought on such a 
 subject from an untravelled lad, and the essay is never 
 wanting in good sense ; but the stjde is turgid, and 
 the clumsy construction of the sentences would lead 
 us to infer that Mr. Moises had taken less pains with 
 John Scott than with Collingwood, did we not bear in 
 mind how intimately style is connected with cha- 
 racter — le sti/le, c'est Thomme. He who thinks de- 
 cidedly, will write clearly, if not forcibly ; he who 
 
 I
 
 LORD ELDON. 389 
 
 lias made np his mind what he is going to say, can 
 say it ; and the difference between Lord Eldon's and 
 Lord Collingwood's mode of writing, is neither more 
 nor less than that which existed to the last between 
 the energetic Seaman and the hesitating Judge. Lord 
 Eldon's style did not improve materially in after life. 
 It ceased to be turgid, but it never ceased to be con- 
 fused and ungrammatical. He might have said of 
 grammar what the 7'oue Due de Richelieu said of 
 spelling — "We quarrelled at the outset of life, and 
 never made up our differences." 
 
 Mr. Twiss, a man of taste, with probably the Micro- 
 cosm in his recollection, hurries over the subject of 
 the essay, pausing neither for extracts nor commen- 
 dations, but contents himself with recording the de- 
 light with which it was received at Newcastle. 
 
 It is worthy of note that, five or six years later, the 
 same prize was won by anotlier grejit lawyer. Lord 
 Tenterden, the subject being " The Use and Abuse of 
 Satire." His essay is remarkable for neatness, cor- 
 rectness, and precision, the very qualities by which 
 he was distinguished in tlie courts. A still more 
 successful Oxford prize-man was Mr. Justice Cole- 
 ridge, who won three prizes (including the prize in 
 question) in one year. Cambridge, however, has 
 alwa3^s been the favourite University for embryo 
 lawyers, from a notion that the mathematics are 
 better adapted than classics to prepare the mind for 
 forensic reasoning ; and on running over the list of 
 wranglers and medallists, we cease to wonder that 
 this notion has gained ground. On that list we find, 
 amongmany other less known names, those of Law (the 
 first Lord EUenborough), Copley, Tindal, Littledale, 
 Shadweil, Bickersteth, Pollock, Parke, Alderson, 
 Maule, &c. On the other hand, an equal or greater 
 iHimber of eminent judges and advocates never re- 
 ceived the benefit of an Oxford or Canibridi2;e educa- 
 
 c c 3
 
 390 LORD ELDON. 
 
 tion, or made no effort at diistinction there. Ilarcl- 
 wicke, Kenyon, Thiirlow, Dunning, Erskine, Scarlett, 
 Gifford, Shepherd, liomilly, FoUett, with ahnost all 
 the undisputed leaders of the profession in England 
 at the present moment, belong to one or the other 
 of these two categories. It is, therefore, quite im- 
 possible to deduce any general rule from the ex- 
 amples ; and those who lay much stress on college 
 honours as an earnest of future eminence, as well as 
 those who make light of them as an indication, are 
 equally at fault. 
 
 Neither at school or college was Lord Eldon one 
 of those demure boys who (as Falstaff says) never 
 come to any proof. He was always fond of a frolic, 
 and used to relate, with great glee, how he aided in 
 cutting down a tree in All-Saints' churchyard, and 
 how often he poached on Lord Abingdon's preserves. 
 He had also no particular liking for work. " I have 
 now (he said late in life) a letter in which Lord 
 Thurlow promised me a commissionership of bank- 
 ruptcy, when it would have been most valuable to me 
 in point of income; he never gave it me, and he 
 always said it was a favour to me to withhold it. 
 What he meant was, that he had learnt (a clear 
 truth) that I was by nature very indolent, and it 
 was only want that could make me very industrious." 
 
 Some have carried the doctrine still further. 
 " Spend your own fortune, marry, and spend your 
 wife's, and then you will have some chance of suc- 
 ceeding in the law." Kenyon (to whom, as well as 
 Thurlow, this advice has been attributed) and Dun- 
 ning might be cited as practical examples of the 
 stimulating effects of poverty. They used generally 
 (according to Steevens) " to dine together, in vaca- 
 tion time, at a small eating-house near Chancery 
 Lane, where their meal was supplied to them at the 
 charge of sevenpence-halfpenny a-head." Home
 
 LORD ELDON. 391 
 
 Tooke, who frequently made a third, added, in telling 
 this to Steevens — "Dunning and myself were gene- 
 rous, for we gave the girl who waited on us a penny 
 a-piece ; but Kenyon, who always knew the value of 
 '^monej, rewarded her with a halfpenny, and some- 
 times with a promise." Erskine often spoke of his 
 wife and children twitching at his gown, and con- 
 straining him to exertion. Still, one of the last pro- 
 fessions we should recommend to a young man with- 
 out fortune or connexion, is the law. 
 
 Assuming (what, in the present state of the profes- 
 sion, is far from clear) that industry and talent will 
 eventually ensure success, considerable expenses must 
 be incurred at the outset, and many years may elapse 
 before a remunerating income can be calculated on. 
 How is the future attorney-general or judge to keep 
 himself during the intervening period without diverg- 
 insT from the course ? The utmost that can be ex- 
 pected is, that he will not imitate the example of a 
 late leader, who used fairly to admit that he had 
 been guilty of sundry breaches of etiquette at start- 
 ing; but excused himself by saying that he left off 
 all improper practices the moment he could afford to 
 do without them. The late Lord Abinger was so 
 strongly impressed with the conviction, that indepen- 
 dence in point of circumstances was requisite, as well 
 to give the candidate a fair chance as to keep up the 
 respectability of the calling, that at one time he had 
 serious tlioughts of proposing a property qualification 
 for barristers. In his opinion, AOOL a-year was the 
 smallest income on which a barrister should begin. 
 He liimself had been a gentleman commoner at Trinity 
 College, Cambridge, and when lie joined the Northern 
 Circuit, was already in the possession of a handsome 
 income; but this never lessened his interest in his 
 profession, though it enabled him to follow it on 
 liberal principles. Perhaps the most favourable posi- 
 
 c c 4
 
 332 LORD ELDON. 
 
 tion for a young man of any force of character is, to 
 be sure of a small independence, but to have fortune, 
 position, and the luxuries of life to struggle for. 
 
 As for the self-accusation of indolence, it is not at 
 all unusual to find an extraordinary capacity for 
 mental labour combined with an extreme reluctance 
 to undertake it. Dr. Johnson seldom put pen to 
 paper except to get money when he wanted it. He 
 complained that the setting his mind in motion was 
 always attended with pain, though when it was 
 thoroughly warmed and in full play, the excitement 
 was pleasurable. Perhaps Lord Eldon felt the same ; 
 or, to take a more obvious solution, perhaps Lord 
 Thurlow got up the charge as the best excuse for his 
 own breach of promise ; and Lord Eldon assented to 
 it, without reflecting that all of us are by nature 
 indolent, if this means that we are frequently disin- 
 clined to work. 
 
 Be this as it may, he took care to provide himself 
 with the stimulant of necessity. Li November 1772, 
 being then twenty-one years and a few months old, 
 he ran away with Miss Surtees, a beautiful girl of 
 eighteen, and married her. Neither of them had a 
 sixpence independent of their parents ; and the mar- 
 riage was equally displeasing to the friends and 
 family of each. " Jack Scott has run off with Bessy 
 Surtees," exclaimed Mr. Moiscs ; " and the poor lad 
 is undone ! " He spoke the opinion of Newcastle. 
 At Oxford, Lord Stowell observed to a friend — " I 
 suppose you have heard of this very foolish act of my 
 very foolish brother ?" The friend expressed a hope 
 that it might turn out better than was anticipated. 
 "Never, sir; he is completely ruined ; nor can any 
 thing now save him from beggary." He was obliged to 
 relinquish his fellowship; but a year of grace remained 
 during which he had the option of accepting any 
 college living that miglit come to his turn. During 
 
 I
 
 LORD ELDON. 39 
 
 this year lie began the study of the law, with the view 
 (to use his own words) of having two strings to his 
 bow. But the church " was his first mistress ; " and 
 it was not until all chance of a collcGre livinf!^ 
 iW-as at an end, that he decided " to pursue a pro- 
 fession which had much less of his affection and 
 respect." 
 
 It is a curious coincidence, that the two greatest 
 Chancery lawyers of their day should both have been 
 forced into the profession by incidental circumstances. 
 Romilly says, that what principally influenced his de- 
 cision was, the being thus enabled to leave his small 
 fortune in his father's hands, instead of buying a 
 sworn clerk's seat with it. " At a later period of my 
 life, after a success at the bar which my wildest and 
 most sanguine dreams had never painted to me — 
 when I was gaining an income of 8000/. or 9000/, a- 
 year — I have often reflected how all that prosperity 
 had arisen out of the pecuniary difficulties and con- 
 fined circumstances of my father." 
 
 Wedderburn (Lord Loughborough) began as an 
 advocate at the Scotch Bar. In the course of an al- 
 tercation with the Lord President, he was provoked to 
 tell his Lordship that he had said as a judge what he 
 could not justify as a gentleman. Being ordered to 
 make an apology, he refused, and left the Scotch 
 for the English bar. Wha*t every one thought his 
 ruin, turned out the best thing that could happen to 
 him. 
 
 " There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Rouj^h hew them how we may." 
 
 Lord Tenterden's earl}' destination Avas changed 
 by a disappointment. When he and Mr. Justice 
 Richards were going the Home Circuit, they visited 
 the cathedral at Canterbury together. Richards 
 commended the voice of a singing man in the choir. 
 " Ah," said Lord Tenderden, " that is the only man
 
 394 LORD ELDON. 
 
 I ever envied ! When at school in this town, we 
 were candidates for a chorister's place, and lie ob- 
 tained it." 
 
 It is now well known that the Duke of Wellington, 
 when a subaltern, was anxious to retire from the 
 army, and actually applied to Lord Camden (then 
 Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland) for a commissionership 
 of customs ! It is not always true, then, that men 
 destined to play conspicuous parts in the world, have 
 a consciousness of their coming greatness, or patience 
 to "bide their time." Their hopes grow, as their 
 capacity expands, with circumstances ; honours on 
 honours arise, like Alps on Alps; in ascending one 
 they catch a glimpse of another, till the last and 
 highest, which was veiled in mist when they started, 
 stands out in bold relief against the sky. Lord 
 Eldon certainly had none of those vague pre- 
 sentiments or proud aspirings Avhich made Nelson, 
 when a captain, exclaim that, some time or other, he 
 would have a gazette to himself. He had little if 
 any imagination ; the poetry of his life began and 
 ended with " Bessy." During many months after 
 his sticcess was considered certain by his friends, he 
 meditated settling down as a provincial barrister in 
 Newcastle; and a comfortable house in the High 
 Street was his castle in air. 
 
 Immediately after the marriage, he writes thus to 
 a friend : — "I have now, Reay, bid adieu to all 
 ambitious projects, because my ambition is gratified. 
 Though a husband, I am still so much of a lover 
 as to think the world well lost while I retain the 
 affections of one woman, the esteem of a few friends, 
 and the good wishes of Reay." This was something 
 more than a mere honeymoon sentiment. A love- 
 match may be either a very silly and selfish action, 
 or a very wise and disinterested one; — the sugges- 
 tion of a passing fancy, or the result of reflection and
 
 LORD ELDON. 395 
 
 self-knowledge. Lord Eldon tells us, that he had 
 literally no alternative but to act as he did, or live 
 in the hourly apprehension of seeing the only woman 
 who could make him happy forced into a union with 
 '^ -Another ; and as he never repented of his choice, 
 or shrank from the labour or repined at the priva- 
 tions it entailed upon him, it would be doing him a 
 great injustice to regard his marriage as a mere 
 youthful indiscretion, and the beneficial results as 
 accidents. 
 
 The circumstances of the young couple were 
 slender, but not embarrassed. Besides the interest 
 of 3000/., at five per cent, settled upon them, he had 
 an allowance from his father, and occasional aid from 
 other quarters. Still he had to depend upon his own 
 exertions for everything beyond bare necessaries ; and 
 the consciousness of this drove him into the error, 
 common to men of energetic character, of overtasking 
 both his bodily and mental powers to a degree which 
 nearly proved fatal to all his hopes and projects, and 
 partially counteracted the ver}^ object he had in view. 
 He became so alarmingly ill, that when he and a 
 travelling companion stopped, late at night, at 
 Birmingham, on their way from Newcastle, in 1774, 
 the cook at the Hen and Chickens insisted on dressing 
 something hot for them, saying she was sure they 
 would neither of them live to see her again. A 
 medical friend remonstrated. " It is no matter," was 
 the answer ; " 1 must either do as I am now doing, 
 or starve." We do not see the necessity. A student 
 will learn more in two or three years by judiciously 
 husbanding his strength, than by exhausting it at 
 starting. But this is a truth which no one will con- 
 descend to take at second hand ; and the consequence 
 is, that our seats of learning are strewed with the 
 wrecks of broken constitutions. Lord Eldon had a 
 narrow escape. The y&xv after his call to the bar, he
 
 396 LOKD ELDON. 
 
 was obliged to consult Dr. Pleberden, who sent liisn 
 to Bath, with an intimation that he must prepare for 
 the worst, unless the waters brought on a fit of the 
 gout within a month. The gout appeared within the 
 allotted period, and he was saved. 
 
 It is stated by Mr. Townsend, and repeated by 
 Mr. Twiss, that he was in the habit of rising at five 
 in the morning, and studying at night with a wet 
 towel round his head ; not (like Porson) to allay 
 fever, but to prevent drowsiness. No wonder that 
 his spirits lost their elasticity. In 1775 he apologises 
 for not writing to his brother Henry, because he 
 foresaw " that a gloomy strain of melancholy would 
 sully every page of the sheet." 
 
 Perhaps no two men, — certainly no two men above 
 the common level, ever acquired their knowledge in 
 the same order, or fixed it by the same method in the 
 memory. One reads a book carefully through ; an- 
 other dips into it at random, reads enough to seize 
 the leading idea, or (as Boswell says of Johnson) digs 
 out the heart of it, and throws it by. One likes to 
 begin with the simplest rules or elements, and clear 
 away each difficulty as he goes on ; another prefers 
 plunging into a mass of heterogeneous matter, for tlie 
 pleasure of seeing new lights constantly breaking 
 upon him, and in the firm confidence of eventually 
 emerging somewhere, and of being amply rewarded 
 for his adventurous exertions in the end. Any mode 
 of study may be good with relation to the individual, 
 and none are fit for universal adoption. Still it is 
 always curious, and sometimes useful, to know how 
 men of Lord Eldon's calibre set to work. 
 
 We are not informed what law-book he read first ; 
 but he was clearly for strong meat. Lawyers brought 
 up on Blackstone and " less elegant compilers," were 
 (in his opinion) like dogs bred in the parlour, unfit 
 for the rough service of the field ; and we strongly
 
 LORD ELDON. 897 
 
 suspect that he took the bull by the horns, and 
 grappled with Coke upon Littleton at once. Such a 
 feat is not impossible, since Dr. Parr read through 
 " Fearne's Contingent Remainders," as a mental 
 ^-exercise, and expressed himself much pleased with the 
 closeness of the logic. Still, in reading Coke, (a 
 much tougher job than Fearne,) the sage's own 
 Avarning must have been kept in mind : " And albeit, 
 the reader shall not at any one day, do what he can, 
 reach to the meaning of our author, or of our com- 
 mentaries ; yet let him noway discourage himself, but 
 proceed ; for on some other day, in some other place, 
 that doubt will be cleared." In 1807, Lord Eldon 
 tells Mr. Farrer to read Coke upon Littleton again 
 and again. " If it Avill be toil and labour to you, and 
 it will be so, think as I do when I am climbing up to 
 Sw3'er or to Westhill, (high grounds at Encombe,) 
 that the world will be all before you when the toil is 
 . over: for so the law world will be, if you make your- 
 self complete master of that book. I read Coke on 
 Littleton through, when I was the other day out of 
 office, and when I v/as a student I abridged it." Li 
 fact, his Coke, Coke, Coke, was like the action^ action^ 
 action of Demosthenes. One day, when his brother 
 asked him to meet Dr. Johnson at dinner, the answer 
 was, " I dine with Coke to-day." The late Lord Abinger, 
 a greater advocate, though a far inferior judge, drew 
 up a list of books for a law student, at the head of 
 which stands " Cicero de Ojjiciis, once, twice, thrice, 
 once every ^'■ear ;" — a curious contrast, and a striking 
 illustration of the inevitable want of agreement on 
 this subject. 
 
 Still scorning the aid of treatises. Lord Fldon ap- 
 pears to have next thrown himself Avith his whole 
 remaining strength upon the Chancery Reports. Mr. 
 Townsend says he acquired such an intimate ac- 
 quaintance with most of them, that he could tell not
 
 398 LOUD ELDON. 
 
 merely the very page in which each of the cases was 
 to be found, but state oif-hancl the precise points in 
 which they agreed or differed. 
 
 It is considered an essential part of legal educa- 
 tion in England, for those who intend to practise 
 in the common -law courts, to pass a year at least in 
 the chambers of a special pleader, wliere the various 
 written proceedings in a cause (tlie declaration or 
 complaint, the plea, the replication, &c.) are prepared. 
 A year in the chambers of an equity draftsman, to 
 learn the mode of drawing bills and answers, is 
 thought equally indispensable for Chancery barris- 
 ters. But the prescriptive fee is one hundred guineas 
 per annum ; and Lord Eldon gallantly made up his 
 mind to dispense with this description of noviciate 
 altogether. " How then," asked Mr. Farrer, " did 
 you acquire your knowledge of pleading ?" " Why," 
 answered Lord Eldon, " I copied everything I could 
 lay ray hands upon." He compiled two large volumes . 
 of precedents, but lent them to a friend, and could 
 not recollect to whom. Li allusion to such borrowers, 
 he observed, that " though backward in accounting, 
 they seemed to be practised in hook ■keeping.''^ 
 
 He was so fortunate as to meet with a conveyancer, 
 who, out of regard for his family and respect for his 
 talents, offered to give him the run of his chambers 
 without a fee. The gentleman in question was Mr. 
 Duane, a Roman Catholic, who did all the great con- 
 veyancing of Newcastle and the neighbourhood. Lord 
 Eldon was particularly anxious to be with him, in the 
 hope of profiting by the connexion when he settled in 
 the north, to which he was eagerly looking forward. 
 He remained only six months in Mr. Duane's cham- 
 bers, being unwilling to incur too great an extent of 
 obligation. 
 
 " Every man/' says Gibbon, " who rises above the 
 common level, receives two educations — the first from 
 
 I
 
 LORD ELDON. 399 
 
 his instructors ; the second, the nriost personal and 
 important, from himself." Almost all Lord Eldon's 
 k'2fal education was from himself, without even the 
 ordinary helps, which he disdainfully flung from him ; 
 ^aiid of no one could it be more truly predicated, that 
 he was not " rocked and dandled " into a lawyer. 
 
 The time was now approaching when the efficacy 
 of this peculiar mode of training was to be tried. He 
 was called to the bar in February 1776. Mr. Ben- 
 tham, in his " Indications of Lord Eldon," with some- 
 what less than his wonted scrupulosity, asserts, that 
 "Mr. Scott waited the exact number of years it cost 
 to take Troy, and had formed his determination to 
 pine no longer, when Providence sent an angel in the 
 shape of a Mr. Barker, with the papers of a fat suit 
 and a retaining fee." Mr. Scott did not wait more 
 than five years, and was in the full tide of prosperity 
 before the tentli. The first year was not productive. 
 It was agreed between him and liis wife, that what- 
 ever he got during the first eleven months should be 
 Ijis, and whatever he got in the twelfth month should 
 be hers. " What a stingy dog I must have been to 
 have made such a bargain ! I would not have done 
 so afterwards. But, however, so it was : that was 
 our agreement ; and how do you think it turned 
 out ? In the twelfth month, I received half a guinea; 
 eighteenpence went for fees, and Bessy got nine shil- 
 Ym^s : in the other eleven months I 2:ot not one shil- 
 ling." 
 
 During the second year, the Duke of Xortliumber- 
 land, who had been quartered at Newcastle, and was 
 acquainted with his father-in-law, caused him to be 
 retained in a case before the House of Lords. " I 
 consider the fee," said Scott, " only as a handsome 
 way of giving me twenty guineas a-day for walking 
 down to the House of Lords." He had also a general 
 retainer for the corporation of Newcastle, and picked
 
 400 LORD ELDON. 
 
 up a brief or two on circuit. Still these were small 
 gains, and, weakened as he was by sickness, he occa- 
 sionally lost heart. "Business" (writes the elder 
 brother, William, to the second, Henry) "is very 
 dull with poor Jack — very dull indeed ; and of con- 
 sequence he is not very lively. I heartily wish that 
 business may brisken a little, or he will be heartily 
 sick of his profession. I do all I can to keep up his 
 spirits, but he is very gloomy." A whim or fancy — 
 for we cannot believe it to be more — induced him to 
 change his line. Upon Mr. Farrer asking him, whe- 
 ther the Court of Chancery had been his object when 
 he was called to the bar, he replied — " Certainly not. 
 I first took my seat in the King's Bench f but I soon 
 perceived, or thought I perceived, a preference in 
 Lord Mansfield for young lawyers who had been bred 
 at Westminster School and Christ Church ; and as 1 
 had belono-ed to neither, I thou";ht I should not have 
 a fair chance, and therefore I crossed over to the other 
 side of the Hall. Lord Mansfield, I do believe, was 
 not conscious of the bias ; he was a good man." Lord 
 Eldon could have had no opportunity of testing this 
 bias by his own individual experience ; and we sus- 
 pect it existed only in a mind rendered morbidly 
 apprehensive by bodily suffering and disappointment. 
 The change was fortunate ; for many years might have 
 elapsed before the stores of real pro])erty lore, which 
 formed the bulk of his leo;al kiiowledo;e, could have 
 been brought into play in the courts of common 
 law. As things turned out, a speedy opportunity was 
 afi^orded. Early in the third year occurred the case 
 of Ackroyd v. Smithson, which laid the foundation of 
 his fame. 
 
 " ' Mi^lit I ask you, Lord Eklon,' said ]\Tr. Farrer, 'whe- 
 ther Ackroyd v. Smithson was not the first cause in which 
 you distinguished yourself?' 
 
 " ' Did I ever tell you the history of that case ? Come,
 
 LORD ELDON. 401 
 
 help yourself to a glass of Newcastle port, and give me a 
 little. You must know,' lie went on, * that the testator in 
 that cause had directed his real estates to be sold, and, after 
 paying his debts and funeral and testamentary expenses, the 
 residue of the money to be divided into fifteen parts, which 
 '-tie gave to fifteen persons whom he named in his will. One 
 of these persons died in the testator's lifetiaie. A bill was 
 filed by the next* of kin, claiming, amongst other things, the 
 lapsed share. A brief was given me to consent for the heir- 
 at-law, upon the hearing of the cause. I had nothing then 
 to do, but to pore over this brief. I went through all the 
 cases in the books, and satisfied myself that the lapsed share 
 Avas to be considered as real estate, and belonged to my client 
 (the heir-at-law). The cause came on at the Rolls, before 
 Sir Thomas Sewcll. I told the solicitor who sent me the 
 brief, that I should consent for the heir-at-law so far as re- 
 garded the due execution of the will, but that I must support 
 the title of the heir to the one-fifteenth which had lapsed. 
 Accordingly, I did argue it, and went through all the autho- 
 rities. When Sir Thomas Sewell went out of court, he 
 asked the register who that young man was ? The register 
 told him it was Mr. Scott. " He has argued very well," said 
 Sir Thomas Sewell, " but I cannot agree with him." This the 
 register told me. He decided against my client. 
 
 " ' You see the lucky thing was, there being two other 
 parties, and the disappointed one not being content, there 
 was an appeal to Lord Thurlow. In the meanwhile, they 
 had written to Mr. Johnstone, recorder of York, guardian to 
 the young heir-at-law, and a clever man, but his answer was 
 — " Do not send good money after bad ; let Mr. Scott have 
 a guinea to give consent, and if he will argue, why, let him 
 do 80, but give him no more." ^So I went into court, and 
 when Lord Thurlow asked who was to appear for the heir- 
 at- law, I rose and said modestly, that I was ; and as I could 
 not but think (with much deference to the Master of the 
 Rolls, for I might be wrong) that my client had the right to 
 the property, if his lordship would give mc leave I would 
 argue it. It was rather arduous for me to rise against all the 
 eminent counsel. Well, Thurlow took three days to consider, 
 and then delivered his judgment in accordance with my 
 speech ; and that speech is in print, and has decided all 
 similar questions ever since.' " 
 
 VOL. I. r D
 
 402 LORD ELDOX. 
 
 As he left the hall, a respectable solicitor, named 
 Foster, came up to him, touched him on the shoulder, 
 and said, " Young man, your bread and butter is cut 
 for life." He did not think so, or languished for his 
 native town ; for when, precisely one year afterwards, 
 the recordership of Newcastle was offered to him, he 
 accepted it, and caused a house to be taken for him 
 there. Then occurred one of these anomalous inci- 
 dents which can only be referred to luck : — 
 
 " ' I did not fjo to the circuit one year, Mary,' said Lord 
 Eldon to Mrs. Foster, ' because I could not afford it ; I had 
 borrowed of my brother for several circuits without getting 
 adequate remuneration, and I had determined to quit London, 
 because I could not afford to stay in it. You know a house 
 Avas taken for me at Newcastle. Well ! one morning about 
 six o'clock/ (probably on the 14th of March, 1781, the com- 
 mittee having been struck on the 13th), ' Mr. (afterwards 
 Lord) Curzon, and four or five gentlemen, came to my door 
 and woke me ; and when I enquired what they wanted, they 
 stated diat the Clitheroe election case was to come on that 
 morning at ten o'clock, before a committee of the House of 
 Commons ; that Mr. Cooper had written to say he was 
 detained at Oxford by Illness, and could not arrive to lead 
 the cause ; and that jNIr. Hardlnge, the next counsel, refused 
 to do so, because he was not prepared. " Well, gentlemen," 
 said I, " what do you expect me to do, that you are here ? " 
 They answered, " they did not know what to expect or to do, 
 for the cause must come on at ten o'clock, and they were 
 totally unprepared, and had been recommended to me as a 
 young and promising counsel." I answered — "I will tell 
 you what I can do ; I can undertake to make a dry state- 
 ment of facts, If that will content you, gentlemen ; but more 
 I cannot do, for I have no time to make myself acquainted 
 with the law." They said that must do ; so I begged they 
 would go down stairs, and let me get up as fast as I could. 
 Well, I did state the facts, and the cause went on for fifteen 
 days. It found me poor enough, but I ben;an to be rich 
 before It was done ; they left me fifty guineas at the begin- 
 ning, then there were ten guineas every day, and five guineas 
 every evening for a consultation — more money than I could
 
 LORD ELDON. 403 
 
 count. But, better still, the length of the cause gave me 
 time to make myself thoroughly acquainted with the law.' " 
 
 According to a scheme for adapting the division of 
 labour to the stage, described by the late Charles 
 -MattheAVS, one actor was to do the action and another 
 to speak the speeches. Hardly less absurd is the 
 practice of one counsel attending to the evidence, and 
 another hurrying in at the end to reply. Yet it ex- 
 isted in Lord Eldon's time as it exists still. At the- 
 end of a fifteen days' enquiry, Mr. Hardinge pre- 
 sented himself. 
 
 " ' I saw the members of the committee put their heads 
 together, and then one of them said, " Mr. Hardinge, Mr. 
 Scott opened the case, and has attended it throughout, and 
 the committee think, that, if he likes to reply, he ought to do 
 so. Mr. Scott, would you like to reply ? " I answered, " that 
 I would do my best." I began my speech with a very bad 
 joke. You must know that the leading counsel on the other 
 side, Douglas, afterwards Lord Glenbervie, had made one of 
 the longest speeches ever known before a committee, and had 
 argued that the borough of Clitheroe was not a borough by 
 prescription, for it had its origin within the memory of man. 
 I began by saying, " I will prove to the committee, by the 
 best evidence, that the borough of Clitheroe is a borough by 
 prescription ; and that it had its origin before the memory of 
 man. My learned friend will admit the commencement of 
 this borough was before the commencement of his speech ; 
 but the commencement of his speech is beyond the memory 
 of man; therefore, the borough of Clitheroe must have 
 commenced before the memory of man." AYe were beaten in 
 the committee by one vote. After this speech, ISIansfield, 
 afterwards Sir James Mansfield, came up to me in West- 
 minster Hall, and said he heard I was going to leave London, 
 but strongly advised me to remain. I told him that I c*)uld 
 not; that I had taken a house in Newcastle; that I had an 
 increasing family ; in short, that I was compelled to quit 
 London. Wilson afterwards came to me, and pressed me in 
 the same manner to remain in London, adding, what was very 
 kind, that he would ensure me 400/. the next year. I gave 
 
 D D 2
 
 404 LORD ELDON. 
 
 him. the same answer as I had given Mansfield. However, I 
 did remain in London, and lived to make INIansfield Chief- 
 Justiee of the Common Pleas, and Wilson a Puisne Judge.' " 
 
 Until very recently, it was customary for Chancery 
 barristers to go circuit and attend sessions — in short, 
 to beat up for practice in all quarters. Lord Eldon 
 does not appear to have attended any sessions ; but, 
 except during one year, when funds were wanting, he 
 regularly went the Northern Circuit, and, at two 
 assize towns in succession was brought forward by the 
 opportune absence of a leader, and a joke. Case the 
 first is thus related by Mr. Twiss : — 
 
 " The plaintiff was a Mrs. Fermor, who sought damages 
 against the defendant, an elderly maiden lady, named San- 
 stern, for an assault committed at a whist-table. Mr. Scott 
 was junior counsel for the plaintiff, and when the cause was 
 called on, his leader was absent in the Crown court, conduct- 
 ing a government prosecution. Mr. Scott requested that the 
 cause might be postponed till his leader should be at liberty ; 
 but the judge refusing, there was no help, and ]\lr. Scott 
 addressed the jury for Mrs. Fermor, and called his witnesses. 
 It was proved that at the whist-table some angry words 
 arose between the ladies, which at length kindled to such 
 heat, that Miss Sanstern was impelled to throw her cards at 
 the head of Mrs. Fermor, who (probably in dodging to avoid 
 these missiles) fell or slipped from her chair to the ground. 
 Upon this evidence, the defendant's counsel objected that the 
 case had not been proved as alleged ; for that the declaration 
 stated the defendant to have committed the assault with 
 her hand, whereas the evidence proved it to have been 
 committed with the cards. Mr. Scott, however, contended, 
 that the facts were substantially proved according to the 
 averment in the declaration, of an assault committed with the 
 hand— for that, in the common parlance of the card-table, the 
 hand means the hand of cards ; and thus that Miss Sanstern, 
 having thrown her cards into INIrs. Fermor's face, had clearly 
 assaulted Mrs. Fermor with her hand. The court laughed — 
 the jury, much diverted, found the plaintiff's allegations 
 sufficiently proved — and the young counsel had the frolic and 
 fame of a verdict in his favour."
 
 LORD ELDON. 405 
 
 He told Mr. Sj^ence, the queen's counsel, that he 
 was first brou2:ht into notice on the Northern Circuit 
 by breaking the Ten Commandments : — 
 
 ^ > " * I'll tell you how it was. I was counsel in a cause, the 
 'Tate of which depended on our being able to make out who 
 was the founder of an ancient chapel in the neighbourhood. 
 I went to view it. There was nothing to be observed which 
 gave any indication of its date or history. However, I 
 observed that the Ten Commandments were written on some 
 old plaster, wiiich, from its position, I conjectured might 
 cover an arch. Acting on this, I bribed the clerk with five 
 shillings to allow me to chip away part of the plaster ; and 
 after two or three attempts, I found the keystone of an arch, 
 on which were engraved the arms of an ancestor of one of 
 the parties. This evidence decided the cause, and I ever 
 afterwards had reason to remember, with some satisfaction, 
 my having on that occasion broken the Ten Commandments.' " 
 
 His first success at Durham was in Adair v. 
 Swinburne^ involving a question of great importance 
 to coal-owners. All the leaders of the circuit were 
 retained ; but it was arranged in consultation that 
 Scott should lead the cause, partly because he had 
 been employed in some preliminary proceedings — 
 partly because he had been bred in a coal country — 
 and partly (we cannot help suspecting) because they 
 were apprehensive of the result. When the defend- 
 ant's case closed, the judge expressed a decided opinion 
 against Scott's client. 
 
 " ' Said Mr. Justice Buller, '< You have not a leg to stand 
 upon." Now this was very awkward — a young man — and 
 the Judge speaking so decidedly. However, I said, " My 
 lord, in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred I would sit down 
 upon hearing the Judge so express himself; but so persuaded 
 am I that I have the right on my side, that 1 must entreat your 
 lordship to allow me to reply ; and I must also express my 
 expectation of gaining a verdict." Well, I did reply ; and 
 the jury — it was a special jury — Charles Brandling was 
 foreman — retired, and after consulting six or eight hours, 
 
 D u 3
 
 406 LORD ELDON. 
 
 they returned, and actually gave the verdict in my favour. 
 AVhcn I went to the ball that evening, I was received with 
 open arms by every one. Oh, my fame was established ! 
 I really think that I might have married half the pretty girla 
 in the room that night. Never was man so courted. It 
 certainly was very flattering to be so received ; but yet it 
 was painful, too, to mark the contrast from the year before. 
 It certainly was not my fault that I had no cause to plead the 
 year before.^ " 
 
 Tn about eight years from his call to the bar, Lord 
 Eldon was in the hio^h-road to its hi^-hest honours. 
 
 We have minutely detailed his progress at the most 
 critical periods, with a view to a few observations we 
 have to offer re<2;ardino; the difficulties and 'chances of 
 the profession ; but before venturing on them, it may 
 be as well to strengthen our conclusions by a parallel 
 — to see how many of his great predecessors and 
 contemporaries adopted the same method of study, or 
 got on in the same manner. 
 
 Somers flourished a little before the period when 
 legal honours ceased to depend principally upon 
 intrigue and faction. He had made himself useful to 
 his party by some well-written pamphlets, and the 
 young Earl (afterwards Duke) of Shrewsbury was his 
 fast friend; still, when he was proposed as junior 
 counsel for the Seven Bishops, they objected to him 
 as too young (be was then thirty-seven) and too little 
 known. Serjeant Pollexfen insisted on their I'ctain- 
 ing him, and his speech for the defence laid the 
 foundation of his fame. 
 
 Lord Hardwicke, the son of an attorney, and bred 
 up in an attorney's office, was fortunate enough to 
 obtain the patronage of Lord Macclesfield, and that 
 noble and learned but most unscrupulous personage 
 forced him at once into the front rank of the pro- 
 fession. He was only twenty -nine years of age, and 
 five years' standing at the bar, when he was called 
 
 I 
 
 o
 
 LORD ELDON. 407 
 
 up from his first circuit to be made Solicitor-General. 
 Having had little or no leading business, it was con- 
 fidently expected that he would break down ; but his 
 talents and knowledge proved fully equal to the ex- 
 Jtraordinary call made upon them. 
 
 Thurlow dashed into practice with the same sud- 
 denness, and was indebted for his first lift to patron- 
 age ; though he certainly did not obtain it by the 
 quality for which Lord Hardwicke was famous — 
 bowing, smihng urbanity. His favourite haunt was 
 Nando's coiFee-house, near the Temple, where a large 
 attendance of professional loungers was attracted by 
 the fame of the punch and the charms of the landlady, 
 which, the small wits said, were duly admired by and 
 at the bar. One evening the Douglas case was the 
 topic of discussion, and some gentlemen engaged in 
 it were regretting the want of a competent person to 
 digest a mass of documentary evidence. Thurlow 
 being present, one of them, half in earnest, suggested 
 him, and it was agreed to give him the job. A brief 
 was delivered with the papers ; but the cause did not 
 come on for more than eight years afterwards, and it 
 was a purely collateral incident to which he was 
 indebted for his rise. This employment brought him 
 acquainted with the famous Duchess of Queensberry, 
 the friend of Pope, Gay, and Swift, and an excellent 
 judge of talent. She saw at once the value of a man 
 like Thurlow, and recommended Lord Bute to secure 
 him by a silk gown. He was made king's counsel 
 in 1761, rather less than seven years after his call to 
 the bar. He ran greater risks than Lord Hardwicke, 
 because his business had been hitherto next to 
 nothing ; but he had far more of the vis vivida and 
 the unhesitating self-confidence which enables an 
 untried man to beat down obstacles. 
 
 Dunning got nothing for some years after his call 
 to the bar, which was about 175G. " He traveled 
 
 1) D 4
 
 408 
 
 LORD ELDON. 
 
 the AVestern Circuit," (says the historian of Devon- 
 shire, Mr. Polwhele,) "but had not a single brief"; 
 and had Lavater been at Exeter in the year 1759, he 
 must have sent Counsellor Dunning to the hospital 
 of idiots. Not a feature marked him for the son of 
 wisdom." He was, notwithstanding, recommended 
 by Mr. Hussey, a King's Counsel, to the Chairman 
 of the East India Company, who was looking out for 
 some one to draw up an answer to a memorial de- 
 livered by the Dutch government. The manner in 
 wliich Dunning performed this piece of service gained 
 him some useful connections, and an opportune fit of 
 the gout, which disabled one of the leaders of the 
 Western Circuit, did still more for him. The leader 
 in question handed over his briefs to Dunning, who 
 made the most of the opportunity. His crowning 
 triumph was his argument against the legality of 
 General Warrants delivered in 1765. He was in- 
 debted for his brief in this famous case to Wilkes, 
 whose acquaintance he had formed at Nando's, the 
 Grecian, and other coffee-houses about the Temple, 
 which, seventy years ago, were still the resort of men 
 of wit and pleasure. 
 
 Kenyon rose slowly and fairly through the general 
 impression entertained at the bar of the extent of his 
 legal knowledge; but this impression was nearly 
 twelve years in reaching the brief-bestowing branch 
 of the profession. He was brought into notice by 
 Thurlow, to whom he acted as what is technically 
 termed " Devil," that is, looked out cases, prepared 
 pleadings, and drew up opinions for him. 
 
 Lord Camden (a judge's son, Etonian, and Cantab) 
 went the Western Circuit for ten or twelve years 
 without success, and at length resolved on trying one 
 circuit more and then retiring upon his fellowship. 
 His fi'iend Henley (Lord. Northington) hearing of 
 this determination, managed to get him retained as
 
 LORD ELDON. 409 
 
 his own junior in a cause of some importance, and 
 then absented himself on the plea of illness. Lord 
 Camden won the cause and prospered. 
 
 Lord Mansfield came to the bar with a high repu- 
 ^l^-tion, but it was rather for literary taste, accom- 
 plishment, and eloquence, than law. He '' drank 
 champagne with the wits," as we learn from Prior ; 
 and Mr. Halliday relates, that one morning Mr. Mur- 
 ray was surprised by a gentleman of Lincoln's Lm, 
 who took the liberty of entering his room without 
 the ceremonious introduction of a servant, in the sin- 
 gular act of practising the graces of a speech at a 
 glass, while Pope sat by in the character of a friendly 
 spectator. It is from a couplet of Pope's we learn 
 how he first became known in the profession — 
 
 " Graced as thou art with all the power of words, 
 So known, so honour' d, in the House of Lords." 
 
 A piece of bathos thus parodied by Gibber — 
 
 " Persuasion tips his tongue whene'er he talks, 
 And he has chambers in the King's Bench walks." 
 
 He is reported to have said, that he never knew 
 the difference between no professional income and 
 three thousand a-year; and the case of Cibher and 
 Sloper is specified as his starting-point. The tradition 
 goes, that Sergeant Eyre being seized with a fit (the 
 god who cuts the knot always comes in this question- 
 able shape), the conduct of the defence devolved on 
 Murray, who after a short adjournment, granted by 
 the favour of Chief-Justice Lee, made so excellent a 
 speech, that clients rushed to him in crowds. The 
 case was admirably adapted to his abilities, being an 
 action of crim. con. brought by a conniving husband 
 against a weak young man of fortune. But the story 
 is apocryphal at best. There is no mention of the 
 Sergeant's illness in the printed accounts of the trial.
 
 410 LORD ELDON. 
 
 On the contrary, a long speech by him is duly re- - 
 ported ; and it appears that Murray was the fourth f 
 counsel in the cause. He certainly made a speech, I 
 and probably spoke well ; but we disbelieve the tra- * 
 dition which makes him the hero of the day. Cibber 
 V. Slojyer ^vsis tried in December 1738; Pope's lines 
 were published in 1737. How could a man "so 
 known, so honoured " for his eloquence, be raised 
 from obscurity by a speech ? It was a stepping- 
 stone, not the keystone. 
 
 "When Lord Loughborough first came to London, 
 he was a constant attendant at the green room, and 
 associated with Macklin, Foote, and Sheridan (the 
 father of Richard Brinsley), who assisted him to 
 soften down his Scotch accent. But the main chance 
 was not neglected. It is stated in Boswell's Johnson, 
 that he solicited Strahan the printer, a countryman, 
 to get him employed in city causes ; and his brother- 
 in-law. Sir Harry Erskine, procured him the patron- 
 age of Lord Bute. When a man of decided talent and 
 good connexion does not stand on trifles, there is no 
 necessity for speculating on the precise causes of his 
 success. 
 
 There is hardly a surviving friend of Lord Erskine's 
 who has not heard the history of his first lucky hit 
 from his own lips. The author of tlie " Clubs of 
 London " has undertaken to report his very words : — 
 
 " ' I had scarcely a shilHng in my pocket when I got my 
 first retainer. It was sent me by a Captain Balllie of the 
 navy, who held an office at the Board of Greenwich Hospital, 
 and I was to show cause in the Michaelmas term against a 
 rule that had been obtained in the preceding term, calling on 
 him to show cause why a criminal information for a libel, 
 reflecting on Lord Sandwich's conduct as governor of that 
 charity, should not be filed against him. I had met, during 
 the long vacation, this Captain Baillie at a friend's table, and 
 after dinner I expressed myself with some warmth, probably
 
 LORD ELDON. 411 
 
 with some eloquence, on the corruption of Lord Sandwich as 
 First Lord of the Admiralty, and then adverted to the scan- 
 dalous practices imputed to him with regard to Greenwich 
 Hospital. Baillie nudged the person who sat next to him, 
 ^and asked who I was. Being told that I had just been called 
 fb the bar, and had been formerly in the navy, Baillie ex- 
 claimed with an oath, " Then I'll have him for my counsel ! " 
 I trudged down to Westminster Hall when I got the brief, 
 and being the junior of five, who should be heard before me, 
 never dreamt that the court would hear me at all. The aro-u- 
 ment came on. Dunning, Bearcroft, Wallace, Bower, Har- 
 grave, were all heard at considerable length, and I was to 
 follow. Hargrave was long-winded, and tired the court. It 
 was a bad omen ; but, as my good fortune would have it, he 
 was afflicted with the strangury, and was obliged to retire 
 once or twice in the course of his argument. This protracted 
 the cause so long, that, when he had finished. Lord Mans- 
 field said that the remaining counsel should be heard the 
 next morning. This was exactly what I wished. I had the 
 whole night to arrange in my chambers what I had to say the 
 next morning, and I took the court with their faculties awake 
 and freshened, succeeded quite to my own satisfaction (some- 
 times the surest proof that you have satisfied others); and as 
 I marched along the Hall after the rising of the judges, the 
 attorneys flocked around me with their retainers. I have 
 since flourished, but I have always blessed God for the pro- 
 vidential strangury of poor Hargrave.'" 
 
 In a more particular, and apparently more accurate, 
 note of the same story, taken by an eminent poet 
 (Rogers), it is stated that the other counsel proposed 
 a compromise at consultation ; that Erskine stood out, 
 and that Baillie flung his arms round his neck in a 
 transport of grateful confidence. According to this 
 note, the number of retaining fees which Erskine said 
 he carried home was sixty-two. Now, retaining fees 
 are usually paid to the clei'k at chambers ; but, taking 
 the statement to mean nothing more than that busi- 
 ness came in very rapidl}^ in consequence of the 
 speech, still we must be pardoned for suggesting that
 
 412 LORD ELDON. 
 
 the reports of the period do not bear out the supposi- 
 tion ; and that the speech, excellent as it was, was 
 not of the sort to win the confidence of attorneys, 
 particularly those passages which brought hiin into 
 collision with the court. The effect in our day would 
 strongly resemble that produced by Alan Fairford in 
 the case of Peebles and Plainstanes : — " The worst 
 of the whole was, that six agents who had each come 
 to the separate resolution of thrusting a retaining fee 
 into Alan's hand as he left the court, shook their 
 heads as they returned the money into their leathern 
 pouches, and said, ' That the lad was clever, but 
 they would like to see more of him before they en- 
 gaged him in the way of business.' " 
 
 Erskine was next engaged to draw up Admiral 
 Keppel's defence, which was spoken by the Admiral. 
 For this service he received a bank-note for 1000/., 
 which he ran off to flourish in the eyes of his friend 
 Reynolds, exclaiming " Voild the nonsuit of cow- 
 beef! " He was employed in two or three other cases 
 of public interest on account of his naval knowledsfe, 
 and the extraordinary powers he displayed in them 
 speedily led to a large general business. It is now 
 acknowledged that Erskine's best quality was the one 
 ordinary observers would be least likely to give him 
 credit for — sagacity in the conduct of a cause. 
 
 Sir AVilliam Jones made his forensic debut about 
 the same time as Erskine, though, according to the 
 account given in Miss Hawkins's "Memoirs" on her 
 brother's authority, without producing an equally 
 favourable impression. He spoke for nearly an hour, 
 with great confidence, in a highly declamatory tone, 
 and with studied action ; impressing all present, who 
 had ever heard of Cicero or Ilortensius, with the 
 belief that he had worked himself up into the notion 
 of being one or both of them for the occasion. Being 
 little acquainted with the bar, he spoke of a case as
 
 LORD ELDON. 413 
 
 having been argued by " one Mr. Baldwin," a gentle- 
 man in large practice sitting in the first row. This 
 caused a titter ; but the grand effect was yet to come. 
 The case involved certain family disagreements, and he 
 iliad occasion to mention a governess. Some wicked 
 wag told him he had been too hard upon her ; so, 
 the day following, he rose as soon as the judges had 
 taken their seats, and began in the same high tone 
 and with both hands extended — " My Lords, I have 
 been informed, to my inexpressible mortification and 
 regret, that, in what I yesterday had the honour to 
 state to your Lordships, I was understood to mean 
 
 to say that Miss was a harlot." He got no 
 
 further: solvuntur risu tahulce ; and, so soon as the 
 judges could speak for laughing, they hastened to 
 assure him that no impression unfavourable to Miss 
 's morals had been made upon the court. Not- 
 withstanding this inauspicious commencement, and 
 his fondness for literature, Jones obtained a fair 
 share of business. His " Essay on Bailments " is 
 considered the best written English law-book on a 
 practical subject. None can be placed alongside of 
 it, for style and method, except Stephen's " Treatise 
 on the Principles of Pleading." 
 
 Lord Ellenborough pursued the most laborious 
 path to distinction. He practised several years as a 
 special pleader, and joined the Northern Circuit with 
 a formed connection. He rose into fame by his de- 
 fence of Warren Hastings, who employed him at the 
 instance of Sir Thomas Kumbold, a connection of the 
 Law family. 
 
 The rise of Sir Samuel Shepherd is thus described 
 by his son ; — 
 
 " For the first two or three years his advancement was 
 slow, but gradual ; it was not long, however, before good 
 fortune or unJeviating attention brought him into greater 
 notice.
 
 414 LORD ELDON. 
 
 " Two of his earliest arguments of any importance, for 
 which he had made copious notes, were called on successively 
 upon the same day. In the first he was much embarrassed ; 
 at the commencement of the second he fortunately dropped 
 his papers, which became displaced and useless ; this obliged 
 him to trust to his memory, which did not fail him, for the 
 cases previously collected ; his eye was thus unshackled from 
 that constant reference to notes, so often injurious to the effect 
 of a good argument; and being thrown upon his own re- 
 sources, his manner, naturally excellent, became more free 
 and impressive, and he received a great compliment from 
 Lord Mansfield at the conclusion of the argument. The 
 court, too, suspended the judgment they were about to pro- 
 nounce against him, and which they afterwards pronounced 
 upon further deliberation. From this time he came into full 
 practice, as apj)ears by the frequent recurrence of his name 
 in the reports of that period." * 
 
 The chief-justiceship of the Queen's Bench and that 
 of the Common Pleas were by turns pressed upon 
 Sir Samuel Shepherd ; but he refused both on ac- 
 count of his deafness, principally because he should 
 be obliged to sit alone as a criminal judge during 
 circuit. 
 
 Romilly's account of his own early life is replete 
 with useful hints. After describing the circuit mode 
 of life, he says : — 
 
 " This sort of amusement, however, was for a consider- 
 
 * Memoir of the Right Honourable Sir Samuel Shepherd. By Henry 
 John Shepherd, Esq. (printed for private circulation). The author of 
 this pleasing and appropriate tribute to tlie memory of a distinguished 
 father, was himself pre-eminently distinguished by talent and accom- 
 plishment,— by the finest sense of honour, the truest generosity of feeling, 
 the most delicate perception of humour, and the utmost refinement of 
 taste. He is the author of an approved work on " Election Law," and of a 
 poem, " Pedro of Castille ; " which contains many passages of genuine 
 poetry, and is obviously the emanation of a graceful fancy and a richly 
 cultivated mind. The modesty of his character, and the extreme fasti- 
 diousness with which he regarded his own works and efforts, alone pre- 
 vented him from obtaining a far larger share of forensic and literary 
 fame.
 
 LORD ELDON. 415 
 
 O 
 
 able time the only profit that I derived from the circuit. 
 Many of the barristers upon it had friends and connections 
 in some of the counties through which we passed, which 
 served as an introduction of them to business ; but for myself, 
 I jvas without connections everywhere, and at the end of my 
 'sixth or seventh circuit I had made no progress. I had been, 
 it is true, in a few causes ; but all the briefs I had had were 
 delivered to me by London attorneys, who had seen my face 
 in London, and who happened to be strangers to the juniors 
 on the circuit. They afforded me no opportunity of dis- 
 playing any talents, if I had possessed them, and they led to 
 nothing ; I might have continued thus a mere spectator of 
 the business done by others, quite to the end of the sixteen 
 years which elapsed before I gave up every part of the 
 circuit, if I had not resolved, though it was very inconve- 
 nient to me on account of the business which I began to get 
 in London, to attend the quarter sessions of some midland 
 county. There is, indeed, a course by which an unconnected 
 man may be pretty sure to gain business, and which is not 
 unfrequently practised. It is to gain an acquaintance with 
 the attorneys at the different assize towns, to show them 
 great civility, to pay them great court, and to affect before 
 them a display of wit, knowledge, and parts. But he who 
 disdains such unworthy means, may, if he do not attend the 
 quarter sessions, pass his whole life in travelling round the 
 circuit, and in daily attendances in court, without obtaining 
 a single brief. When a man first makes his appearance in 
 court, no attorney is disposed to try the experiment ichether he 
 has any talents ; and ivhen a marts face has become familiar by 
 his having been long a silent spectator of the business done by 
 others, his not being employed is supposed to proceed from his 
 incapacity, and is alone considered as sufficient evidence that 
 he must have been tried and rejected" 
 
 Under this conviction, he joined the Warwick 
 sessions, where the bar happened to be neither strong 
 nor numerous, and soon got into business; which 
 led, as he anticipated, to business on the circuit. 
 He was gradually acquiring, during the same period, 
 a large practice in Chancery ; but his debut there 
 was unlucky. He grew so nervous and confused,
 
 416 LORD ELDON. 
 
 that his old master, Lally, prognosticated a complete 
 failure. 
 
 At the present moment, the bench and bar might 
 furnish a long list of distinguished men of all grades 
 of talent and knowledge ; yet we should be puzzled 
 to name one who sprang into great practice at a 
 bound ; and it is a remarkable fact that most of the 
 leading barristers are past forty years of age, and 
 few of less than twenty years' standing in the pro- 
 fession. This justifies a suspicion, that the effect of 
 lucky hits is somewhat over-estimated in the tra- 
 ditional instances. Mr. Twiss, however, thinks that 
 a change has taken place in the constitution of the 
 body, which may account for the difference. 
 
 " The two well-employed opportunities of Ackroycl v. 
 Smithson and the ' Clitlieroe Petition,' had left the suc- 
 cess of Mr. Scott a matter no longer doubtful. At the 
 present clay, from the great competition of very learned and 
 very able practitioners, a few occasional opportunities do 
 little, however they be improved. Among the more influ- 
 ential class of attorneys and solicitors, it has become usual 
 to bring up a son, or other near relation, to the bar *, who, 
 if his industry and ability be such as can at all justify his 
 friends in employing him, absorbs all the business which they 
 and their connection can bestow ; and the number of barris- 
 ters, thus powerfully supported, is now so great, that few 
 men lacking such an advantage can secure a hold upon 
 business. But at the time when Mr. Scott began his pro- 
 fessional life, the usage had not grown up of coming into 
 the field with a ' following ' already secured. Education 
 being less general, fewer competitors attempted the bar ; 
 and, even among the educated classes, a large portion of the 
 adventurous men devoted themselves to naval and military 
 })ursuit8, which have now been deprived of attraction by a 
 peace of more than a quarter of a century. In those days. 
 
 * It would be nearer the truth to say, that attorneys and solicitors 
 now belong to the class from which the bar is principally recruited.
 
 LORD ELDON. 417 
 
 therefore, It might well happen, as with Mr. Scott it actually 
 did, that a couple of good opportunities, ably used, would 
 make the fortune of an assiduous barrister in London." 
 
 . .^ We do not believe that the constitution of the bar 
 Ms much altered ; but its effective members have been 
 more than trebled in number within living memory; 
 while equity business has not more than doubled, and 
 common law business has positively decreased. Mr. 
 Shepherd says, that when Sir Samuel began attending 
 the King's Bench, there were but three rows of seats, 
 and they were rarely full. It is stated by Mr. 
 Townsend, and repeated by Mr. Twiss, that the num- 
 ber of counsel regularly practising at the Chancery 
 Bar when Lord Eldon joined it, was only twelve or 
 fifteen. The cause lists at Guildhall are not half the 
 length they used to be. The late Sir Albert Pell 
 told the present writer, that when he joined the West- 
 ern Circuit the number of barristers did not average 
 above twenty-five, and that it was an understood thing 
 among the leaders to procure every new-comer a 
 chance. The number now exceeds fifty; the cause 
 lists are shorter than they were in his time ; and all 
 sympathy is at an end. Besides the fear of litigation 
 (which has now grown into something more than a 
 proverbial saw, which every one repeated and no one 
 acted on), there are plain specific causes for the 
 change. The most profitable part of sessions practice 
 (Appeals) received its death-blow from the new Poor- 
 Law ; and the improvements effected by the Com- 
 mon- Law Commissioners (for which the public are 
 indebted to Lord Brougham), nip in the bud a vast 
 number of lawsuits, which, under the old system, 
 would have gone on to trial and borne briefs.* 
 
 * When a defendant was at liberty to plead the general issue — i. e. 
 a broad general denial of the demand — the parties frequently came into 
 court in entire ignorance of the precise point in dispute ; and as techni- 
 cal objections were also allowed ad libitum^ there was always a chance of 
 VOL. I. E E
 
 418 LORD ELDON. 
 
 It may be taken, therefore, as an established truth, 
 that there are fewer prizes and more blanks in the 
 lottery. But is the mode of drawing altered? In 
 our opinion, very little. If a man has connections, 
 he is pushed on at starting. If he has not, he must 
 wait. It was always tlius ; and it is clear, from Lord 
 Eldon's many opportunities, that he did not want 
 backers. We see the increasing difficulties that 
 beset the modern candidate ; but it strikes us that 
 attorneys' sons and relations must suffer as much 
 from the general crowding as the rest. Their pro- 
 ])ortional advantage is obviously diminished by com- 
 petitors of the same class ; and, as a matter of fact, 
 we do not find that the avenues are blocked up by 
 them. Three out of four of the present judges and 
 leading counsel are not sons or near relations of 
 attorneys ; and, could the private history of each of 
 these be read, it would appear that there is still a 
 large field for knowledge and capacity. In most 
 instances, it would be found that they availed them- 
 selves of some fortunate opportunity to establish a 
 name, and gradually dropped into business as others 
 dropped off. Legal promotion, like military, depends 
 on deaths and other vacancies. It is very seldom, 
 indeed, that an established leader is displaced ; what 
 the lucky hit does, is simply to indicate the successor. 
 
 At the same time, it is absurd to say that merit is 
 sure to be appreciated if the aspirant will bide his 
 time ; for the time may never come, or come too late 
 — when his faculties have been deteriorated by 
 disuse, and his spirit is broken by disappointment — 
 
 defeating a claim by an unforeseen objection or defence. Under the 
 new mode of pleading, they are compelled to arrive at a precise 
 issue ; each considers whether he can support his allegation by evi- 
 dence; and the one who finds he cannot, gives in. (Since this was 
 written, the new County Courts have come into full play and still 
 further reduced the business of Westminster Hall.)
 
 LORD ELDON. 419 
 
 when " all he had wished to please have sunk into 
 the grave, and success and miscarriage are empty 
 sounds." What is to ensure him even the few occa- 
 sional briefs which are absolutely necessary to enable 
 j.-him to profit by the grand opportunity when it does 
 come ? — for the management of causes is not to be 
 learned by mere observation or reflection ; some 
 practice is indispensable ; and there is much that is 
 merely technical, almost mechanical, in the arts of 
 advocacy. In the front rank, competition is more 
 open, and merit generally decides ; but the difficulty 
 is to clear the intervening shallows, and get fairly 
 afloat. A man who has merit without connection, 
 will not be employed till he is known ; and he can 
 hardly be known till he is employed. 
 
 Yet it may be that nobody is to blame, neither the 
 attorney for not choosing, nor the barrister for not 
 being chosen. When there is not enough for all, 
 some must starve. An overstocked profession is like 
 a crew trying to save themselves upon a raft scarcely 
 large enough to carry half of them ; or like the in- 
 mates of the Black Hole at Calcutta, where all who 
 could not get near the aperture in the wall were 
 suffocated — the survivors owing their safety as much 
 to position and selfishness, as strength. Erskine once 
 declared in Parliament, that " success oftener de- 
 pended upon accident, and certain physical advan- 
 tages, than upon the most brilliant talent and the 
 most profound erudition." A high-spirited and 
 popular leader (Thesiger) lately illustrated the matter 
 thus : — " When I look round on my competitors, and 
 consider my own qualifications, the wonder to nie 
 is, how I ever got to the place I now occupy. I can 
 only account for it, by comparing the forensic career 
 to one of the crossings in our great thoroughfares. 
 You arrive just when it is clear, and get over at 
 once ; another finds it blocked up, is kept Avaiting, 
 
 E E 2
 
 420 LORD ELDON. 
 
 and arrives too late at his destination, though the 
 better pedestrian of the two.'' Does it not sometimes 
 (certainly not in this gentleman's case) resemble the 
 Strand on Lord Mayor's Day? Those who, like 
 Swift's fat man in the crowd, do not mind what fuss 
 they make, whose toes they tread on, to what extent 
 they splash themselves, or how many quiet people 
 they thrust off the pavement or against the wall, 
 always clear the press soonest and get first to Charing 
 Cross or Temple Bar. 
 
 According to Mr. Sergeant (the late Mr. Justice) 
 Talfourd, the undisputed leader of his circuit, " mere 
 stupidity, accompanied by a certain degree of fluency, 
 is no inconsiderable power. It enables itg possessor 
 to protract the contest long after he is beaten, because 
 he neither understands his own case, nor the argu- 
 ments by which he has been answered. It is a weapon 
 of defence, behind which he obtains protection, not 
 only from his adversaries but from the judge. If the 
 learned person who presides, wearied out with endless 
 irrelevancies, should attempt to stop him, he will 
 insist on his privilege to be dull, and obtain the 
 admiration of the audience by his firmness in support- 
 ing the rights of the bar. In these points, a sensitive 
 and acute advocate has no chance of rivaUing him in 
 the estimation of the bystanders." 
 
 Here is Romilly's sketch of the leader of his circuit 
 when he joined : — " Next to him (Sergeant Hill) in 
 rank, but far before him in business, and indeed com- 
 pletely at the head of the circuit, stood ; who 
 
 without talents, without learning, without any one 
 qualification for his profession, had by the mere 
 friendship, or rather companionship, of Mr. Justice 
 
 , obtained the favour of a silk gown ; and by 
 
 a forward manner, and the absence of commanding 
 abilities in others, had got to be employed in almost 
 every cause. The merits of a horse he understood
 
 LOKD ELDON. 421 
 
 perfectly well ; and when in these, as sometimes hap- 
 pened, consisted the merits of a cause, he acquitted 
 himself admirably ; but in other cases nothing could 
 be more injudicious than his conduct. In spite, how- 
 -ever, of his defects, and notwithstanding the obvious 
 effects of his mismanagement, he continued for many 
 years, while I was upon the circuit, in possession of a 
 very large portion of business." 
 
 There was truth as well as fun in the late 
 James Smith's induction. " The elite of our uni- 
 versities, with the most promising recruits from all 
 classes, are sent almost as a thing of course to the 
 bar. The most distinguished of these, therefore, may 
 fairly be regarded as the most distinguished of their 
 contemporaries. Now, I remember when Marryatt 
 and Mingay (naming two gentlemen not remarkable 
 for refinement or cultivation) were at the head of the 
 practising members of the profession. It follows that 
 Marr3'att and Mingay were the very cream of intellect, 
 the most favourable representatives of the wit, learn- 
 ing, and eloquence of their age." 
 
 One of these boasted that, from the hour he left 
 school, he had never opened any book but a law 
 book. Sir Vicary Gibbs confessed to having read 
 two unprofessional publications; one being ''Bam- 
 berger's Travels," which he had actually indexed. 
 In his case the exclusive mode answered, i. e. he 
 became a successful lawyer of the technical narrow- 
 minded sort ; but when the example is recommended 
 for general adoption, we are tempted to exclaim with 
 Chief-Justice Bushe : — " Such a man depreciates the 
 genius which he does not possess, and overrates the 
 handicraft he is equal to ; he would shear a splendid 
 profession of its beams, and cut it down to trade. 
 But I Avill not believe that the profession I preferred, 
 because I thought it the most liberal, is such a low 
 mechanic craft as this. I will not give up the Burghs, 
 
 E K 3
 
 422 LORD ELDON. 
 
 and the Erskines, find the Currans of the profession, 
 to those fair jurisprudents and learned applicants of 
 the law, who scorn the genius tliat scorns them." 
 
 We also take liberty to suggest that clear arrange- 
 ment, correct language, faniiharity with the topics of 
 the day, some power of iUustration, and some ac- 
 quaintance with the elementary parts of the popular 
 sciences, are not unreasonably expected from the 
 members of a learned profession ; which, dealing 
 by turns with every branch of human knowledge, 
 brings by turns every faculty, talent, and accomplish- 
 ment into play. We have heard a libel case laughed 
 out of court by a happy allusion to the Vicar of 
 Wakefield : in order to fix the meaning of the words, 
 "entertainment of the stage," in an Act of Parlia- 
 ment, (10 Geo. 11. c. 28,) it became necessary to 
 review the whole dramatic literature of the period : 
 the arguments regarding Lady Hewley's charity 
 turn on the nicest points of theological controversy 
 and biblical criticism : the Chancellor has just decided 
 a case which depended on art and connoisseurship ; 
 and almost every patent case involves some new dis- 
 covery in chemistry or mechanics. It would, there- 
 fore, be no reflection on a lawyer to say, with the 
 change of a word, what was wittily said of a celebrated 
 Cambridge Professor, that science (read, law^) is his 
 forte, and omniscience his foible. Without that 
 readiness of apprehension, Avhich nothing but ex- 
 tended cultivation can perfect, he is not safe a 
 moment. Lord Eldon (who, however, once an- 
 nounced from the bench in the Court of Chancery that 
 he had been reading "Paradise Lost" during the long 
 vacation) took avowedly the means he thought best 
 adapted to gain a speedy competence, and never 
 thought of playing the great game till it was forced 
 upon him. He then suffered greatly from the want 
 of liberal knowledge and a more cultivated taste.
 
 ■J—! 
 
 LORD ELDON. 423 
 
 Examples of a different tendency may be men- 
 tioned ; but, speaking from our own observation, we 
 should say, that it is not the literature that does harm, 
 but the reputation for it. A sergeant who knows 
 'three times as much law as a learned brother who 
 knows nothing else, may be reputed the worse lawyer 
 of the two ; but not unless he gives his literary pur- 
 suits a turn calculated to attract attention ; and then 
 he is compensated in fame. 
 
 In Wilberforce's Diary is this entry : — " Saw Lord 
 Eldon, and had a long talk with him on the best mode 
 of study for the young Grants to be lawyers. The 
 Chancellor's reply was not encouraging : — 'I have 
 no rule to give them, but that they must make up their 
 minds to live like a hermit and work like a horse.'" 
 At first, we incline to think, he must — or rather that 
 little is to be expected from students who do not do 
 so of their own accord ; but happily the hermit and 
 horse period need not be long, or it would be better 
 to turn galley slave. " Let a man do all he can in 
 any one branch of study, he must exhaust himself and 
 doze over it, or vary his pursuit, or else be idle. All 
 our real labour lies in a nutshell. The mind makes 
 at some period or other one Herculean effort, and 
 the rest is mechanical. We have to climb a steep 
 and narrow precipice at first, but after that the way 
 is broad and easy, where we may drive several ac- 
 complishments abreast."* As to the overwhelming 
 labour of the profession when it has been learned^ the 
 late Lord Abinger used to boast that he dined out 
 every day during the whole of a long Guildhall 
 
 * llazlitt's " Plain Speaker," vol. i. p. 142. IMr. Charles Butler tells us 
 that Fearne, the author of the " Essay on Contingent Remainders," was 
 profoundly versed in medicine, chemistry, and mathematics — had ob- 
 tained a patent for dyeing scarlet — and written a treatise on the Gret-k 
 accent. The period of life at which students impair their health by study 
 is generally from eighteen to twenty-five. 
 
 E E 4
 
 424 LORD ELDON. 
 
 sittings ; and lawyers in full business spend evening 
 after evening in the House of Commons. 
 
 To bring this topic to a conclusion — as we run 
 over the foregoing lists of examples, nothing strikes 
 us more than the variety of plans of study, modes of 
 life, kinds of talent, and degrees of industry, pre- 
 sented by it. Thurlow at Nando's, and Wedder- 
 burn in the green-room; Murray before the looking- 
 glass, and Eldon with the wet towel round his head ; 
 a judge's son (Camden) neglected for twelve years, 
 and an attorney's (Hardwicke) fairly forced into the 
 solicitor-generalship in five ; Kenyon loving law, 
 and Ivomilly detesting it ; Dunning brought forward 
 by an East India director, and Erskine by an old 
 seaman ; — such things set all speculation at defiance, 
 or brino: us back at last to the sao;e remark of Vau- 
 venargues, that " everything may be looked for from 
 men and from events." 
 
 It is related in the " Anecdote Book," that during 
 the formation of the coalition government Mr. Fox 
 called on Lord Thurlow, and requested him to retain 
 the Great Seal. Lord Thurlow refused, and it was 
 then put into commission ; — the Lords Commis- 
 sioners beino- Lord Lou2fhborouo;h, then Chief- Justice 
 of the Common Pleas, Mr. Justice Ashhurst, and 
 Mr. Baron Hotham. With the view of gratifying 
 some friends of the new government, the Lords 
 Commissioners were authorised to confer a limited 
 number of silk gowns, and it was found impossible 
 to pass over Mr. Scott. He received a message from 
 the Duke of Portland (the Premier) offering to 
 include him in the list. After some hesitation he 
 accepted the oifer, saying that he felt honoured and 
 gratified in doino^ so. This was on the Wednesdav. 
 C)n Thursday he learned that Erskine and Pigott, his 
 juniors at the bar, were also to have silk gowns, and 
 were to be sworn in on the Friday, the day before him- 
 
 I
 
 LORD ELDON. 425 
 
 self, which would have given them precedence. He 
 instantly wrote to retract his acceptance ; and, on 
 being called before the Commissioners, steadily per- 
 severed in refusing to waive his professional rank for 
 i_^ny one. 
 
 " One of them said Mr. PIgott was senior at the bar to 
 Mr. Erskine, and yet he had consented to let Mr. Erskine 
 take precedence of him. I answered — * Mr. Pigott is the 
 best judo;e for himself: I cannot consent to give way, either 
 to Mr. Erskine or Mr. Pigott.' Another said, ' Mr. Scott, 
 you are too proud,' — ' My lord with all respect, I state it is 
 not pride : I cannot accept the gown upon these terms.' 
 After much diflSculty, and particularly as the patents of 
 Erskine and Pigott had passed the seal, the matter seems to 
 have been arranged ; for on the Saturday I received a patent, 
 appointing me to be next in rank to Peckham, and placing 
 Erskine and Pigott below me, though in fact both of them 
 had been sworn in the day before me ; and that patent I 
 have to this day. ' Did you think,' said Mr. Farrer to him, 
 *that it was so important to insist upon retaining your 
 rank ? ' — 'It was everything,' he replied, with great earnest- 
 ness ; ' I owed my future success to it.' " 
 
 Though premiers interfere occasionally, this kind 
 of promotion is considered to depend altogether on 
 the possessor of the Great Seal ; and Lord Eldon 
 was afterwards strongly censured for his mode of dis- 
 pensing it. To enable the reader to form his own 
 opinion, and also to enter into the spirit of the fore- 
 going passage, we will briefly explain the nature of 
 professional rank. 
 
 A barrister who is made king's (now queen's) 
 counsel, or who receives a patent of precedence, sits in 
 the front row (within the bar), wears a silk gown instead 
 of a stuff one, and takes precedence of the rest of the bar, 
 next after his immediate senior of the same grade. 
 Originally the king's counsel were the salaried counsel 
 of the crown ; but since the increase in number (ren- 
 dered necessary by the increase of the profession and
 
 426 
 
 LORD ELDON. 
 
 the courts) the salary has been discontiniied, and they 
 may now be regarded simply as the field oflicers of 
 the law. Independently of the honour, the advantao-e 
 (or disadvantage) of a silk goAvn is, that it puts the 
 wearer in the best position for leading causes ; for, 
 according to the etiquette of the English bar, the 
 client cannot fix the order in which his counsel shall 
 be heard, or assign them parts adapted to their 
 capacity. This is regulated by seniority. Captain 
 Baillie, for example, could not have said, "Mr. 
 Erskine has eloquence and spirit, and is fully master 
 of my views. He shall lead my case. Mr. Hargrave 
 is a sound lawyer, but a bad speaker. Let him keep 
 in the background, and supply Mr. Erskine with 
 authorities." In this instance the strangury set 
 matters right ; but we remember an instance in 
 which Lord Brougham was intended to lead a libel 
 case; immediately before the trial it was discovered 
 that the other counsel retained (a mere special 
 pleader) was his senior, and the mistake proved 
 irremediable. 
 
 This patronage, therefore, is a delicate matter as 
 regards the distribution of business. It is not less so 
 as regards the character of the profession ; for the 
 Chancellor is thereby enabled to distinguish those who 
 reflect credit on it. 
 
 It is undeniable that Lord Eldon discharged the 
 silk-distributing duty of his ofiice very badly. His 
 political prejudices, and his habits of procrastination, 
 proved equally mischievous. The late Lord Abinger, 
 Lord Brougham, and Lord Denman were proscribed 
 — Sir Charles Wetherall postponed. A lame attempt 
 is made in the " Anecdote Book " to defend the pro- 
 scription of Lord Brougham ; on the ground that, in 
 consequence of the line he took on the Queen's Trial, 
 the appointment was personally ofi"ensive to George lY. 
 But it was Lord Eldon's duty to resist such a preju-
 
 LORD ELDOy. 427 
 
 dice, and resign rather than be responsible for it. 
 What becomes of the privileges of the bar, if an ad- 
 vocate is to be subjected to this sort of disqualification 
 for discharging his duty fearlessly ? or what becomes 
 s_^f ministerial responsibility, if the minister may fall 
 back on the caprices of the king? Had Lord Eldon 
 shown himself in earnest, George IV. would not have 
 refused to him what he granted at once to Mr. 
 Canning or Lord Lyndhurst. 
 
 In the case of Lord Abinger, a great injustice was 
 done, and a great injury inflicted, without the shadow 
 of an excuse. He would have been undisputed leader 
 of the Northern Circuit six or eight years sooner, had 
 he received his rank when he was first entitled to it. 
 He and Sir Charles Wetherall had been more than 
 twenty-five years at the bar when they were promoted ; 
 Lord Eldon about seven, and he was senior to Erskine 
 and Pigott. There can be no doubt that the principal 
 object of the move was to oblige Erskine ; and Lord 
 Eldon stood out for his rightful precedence, from a 
 belief that a concession might be regarded as an 
 avowal of inferiority. 
 
 A few days after he received his silk gown he was 
 elected for AVeobly, a borough in the patronage of 
 Lord AVey mouth, to whom he was recommended by 
 Lord Thurlow ; it being expressly stipulated that he 
 was not to be bound by the opinions of the patron. 
 Erskine was elected for Portsmouth, on the Govern- 
 ment interest. They took their seats at the same 
 time, made their maiden speeches the same night, and 
 were simultaneously voted fresh illustrations of the 
 saying, that lawyers do not succeed in Parliament. 
 But it strikes us that this saying is in one sense a 
 truism, and in every otlier false. 
 
 It is true that all eminent lawyers do not become 
 equally eminent in Parliament ; but may not the 
 remark be extended to other orders and classes ? Do
 
 428 LORD ELDON. 
 
 historians, essayists, poets, wits, metaphysicians, in- 
 variably sustain their reputation ? Witness Gibbon, 
 Addison, Byron, George Selwyn, David Hartley. 
 Does the country gentleman retain his relative im- 
 portance ? Is the merchant as influential as upon 
 'Change ? The scene is shifted ; the required talent 
 is different ; the public is a wider public ; the compe- 
 tition is indefinitely increased. Because a lawyer 
 excels Peckham and Pigott in the Court of King's 
 Bench, he is expected to excel or equal Pitt, Fox, 
 Burke, and Sheridan in the House of Commons ! 
 Nay, he is to prove a match for the best of them, 
 Avith one hand tied behind him. After a mornino- 
 spent in an exhausting contest before judges^ or juries, 
 and an afternoon in consultations, with hardly a 
 moment to prepare himself, he is to encounter first- 
 rate debaters fresh from their clubs, who have spent 
 their whole lives in the political atmosphere, and 
 given tlieir full attention to the subject of the night. 
 
 Suppose, at the end of one of the grand party 
 conflicts, prolonged till daylight, Erskine had said to 
 Fox, " Now, come across the Hall and defend Hardy. 
 You know the case as well as I do, and there are no 
 technicalities involved in it." Would Fox have sus- 
 tained the reputation acquired by such speeches as 
 that on the Westminster scrutiny ? Would he have 
 delivered anything at all approximating in effect to 
 Erskine's famous speech for the defence, which stands 
 like a landmark in history ? The truth is, unrivalled 
 pre-eminence (like Erskine's) in one walk, implies a 
 peculiar kind of genius or combination of qualities, 
 and renders equal pre-eminence in another almost im- 
 possible. There is no instance on record (unless 
 Michael Angelo be one) of the same man's standing 
 on the very apex of two arts, sciences, professions, or 
 pursuits, even those more congenial than politics and 
 law ; yet we do not complain that the greatest chemist
 
 LORD ELDON. 429 
 
 is not the greatest botanist, nor gravely lay down as 
 an axiom that painters do not succeed in poetry. 
 Even if we adopt Dr. Johnson's notion, that genius is 
 nothing more than great general powers of mind ca- 
 '>.,]pable of being turned any way, and admit that " a 
 man who has vigour may walk to the east just as well 
 as to the west ; " still, a man cannot walk as far both 
 ways, or cover as much ground, as two men of much 
 inferior vigour, each taking his line and keeping to it. 
 The real wonder, therefore, is, or ought to be, how 
 so many lawyers have succeeded ; for the list is a 
 highly respectable one. Somers was the constitutional 
 and parliamentary organ of his party. Murray was 
 regularly pitted against the Great Commoner. " They 
 alone " (says Lord Chesterfield) " can inflame or 
 quiet the House ; they alone are attended to in that 
 numerous and noisy assembly, that you may hear a 
 pin fall while either of them is speaking." Lord North 
 is described by Gibbon as placing his chief dependence 
 on Thurlow and Wedderburn. Dunning was an ex- 
 cellent debater. Fox himself grew anxious when he 
 had to answer Sir William Grant; and the present 
 Lord Lansdowne (then Lord Henry Petty) was the 
 only speaker who ever completely did away the efi'ect 
 of one of his best speeches (on the Orders in Council) 
 by a reply. It was hardly possible to fill a prouder 
 position in Parliament than Roinilly. Dundas had 
 been Lord Advocate, and Perceval Solicitor-General. 
 Mr. O'Connell was at one time the undisputed leader 
 of the Irish bar. Lord Plunkett was quite perfect 
 as a debater. Sir William Follett and Mr. Pem- 
 berton Leigh have surely succeeded in the House of 
 Commons ; while Lord Brougham and Lord L3md- 
 hurst are not generally thought to have failed in 
 either House. 
 
 The list might be indefinitely extended, if we in- 
 cluded those who (like Lord Eldon) were always
 
 430 LORD ELDON. 
 
 equal to their work, though they acquired no dis- 
 tinctive reputation as speakers ; or those Avho have 
 risen to eminence after going through the training of 
 the bar, like Pitt and Tierney, who both went the 
 Western Circuit. But we have not shrunk from the 
 common mode of arguing the question, palpably un- 
 fair as it is ; according to which, no one is to count 
 who has not been occupied- during the best portion 
 of his life with law, and expended his best energies 
 on it. 
 
 It was said of Sheridan, when he delayed writing 
 another comedy, that he was afraid of the author of 
 " The School for Scandal." Erskine, when he rose to 
 speak, might reasonably have stood in awe of the 
 advocate who defended Lord George Gordon. It was 
 his own reputation that bore him down ; and one of 
 the first of living authorities on such a subject. Lord 
 Brougham, thinks that his parliamentary talents were 
 underrated, and that, had he appeared at any other 
 period, and given more attention to the practice, 
 " there is little chance that he would have been 
 eclipsed even as a debater." This could not be said 
 of Mr. Scott. His high reputation for legal know- 
 ledge ensured attention when he spoke, but nothing 
 could be worse than the taste and style of his early 
 speeches. 
 
 He broke ground in opposition to the famous East 
 India Bill, and began with his favourite topic, the 
 honesty of his own intentions, and the purity of his 
 own conscience : — 
 
 " He spoke in respectful terms of Lord North, and more 
 highly still of Mr. Fox ; but even to JMr. Fox it was not 
 fittincr that so vast an influence should be intrusted. As 
 Brutus said of Caesar — 
 
 ' he would be crown'd ! 
 
 How that might change his nature, — there's the question.'
 
 LORD ELDON. 431 
 
 It was an aggravation of the affliction be felt, that the cause 
 of it should originate with one to whom the nation had so 
 long looked up ; a wound from him was doubly painful. Like 
 Joab, he gave the shake of friendship, but the other hand 
 held a dagger, with which he dispatched the constitution. 
 ''-Here Mr. Scott, after an apology for alluding to sacred writ, 
 read from the Book of Revelation some verse which he re- 
 garded as typical of the intended innovations in the affairs of 
 the English East India Company : — ' And I stood upon 
 the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, 
 having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten 
 crowns. And they worshipped the dragon which gave power 
 unto the beast : and tbey woi'shipped the beast, saying, Who 
 is like unto the beast ? who is able to make war with him ? 
 And there was given unto him a mouth speaking great things; 
 and power was given unto him to continue forty and two 
 months.' Here," said Mr. Scott, " I believe there is a mis- 
 take of six months — the proposed duration of the bill being 
 four years, or forty-eight months. ' And he caused all, both 
 small and great, rich and poor, free and bond, to receive a 
 mark in their right hand, or in their foreheads.' — Here places, 
 pensions, and peerages are clearly marked out. — * And he 
 cried mightily with a strong voice, saying, Babylon the Great ' 
 — plainly the East India Company — 'is fallen, is fallen, and 
 is become the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul 
 spirit, and the cage of every unclean and hateful bird.'" 
 
 He read a passage from Thucydides to prove that 
 men are more irritated by injustice than by violence, 
 and described the country crying out for a respite 
 like Desdemona — 
 
 " Kill me to-morrow — let me live to-night — 
 But half an hour! " 
 
 This strange jumble was well quizzed by Sheridan, 
 and Mr. Scott soon found out that rhetorical em- 
 bellishment was not his line ; for his subsequent 
 speeches are less ornate. They were not always 
 plain, however, in the full sense of the word, and he 
 was never cured of the habit of talking of his con- 
 science. In the squibs of the period, their obscurity
 
 432 
 
 LORD ELDON. 
 
 forms the point of the jokes levelled at him. Thus, 
 among the pretended translations of Lord Belgrave's 
 famous Greek quotation, the following couplet was 
 attributed to him : — 
 
 " With metaphysic art his speech he plann'd, 
 And said — what nobody could understand." 
 
 He was certainly too much given to refining and 
 distinguishing ; but a lawyer speaking principally on 
 legal subjects, will frequently, without any fault of 
 his, be unintelligible to a shifting and impatient au- 
 dience like the House of Commons. His opinion was 
 always duly appreciated, and he took care not to im- 
 pair its value by lending it for party purposes. In 
 the affair of the \Yestminster scrutiny, he considered 
 the high bailiff to be acting contrary to law in de- 
 laying the return, and said so in the House. Fox 
 showed his sense of this highly commendable act of 
 candour, by the tone of respectful courtesy in which 
 he invariably alluded to him. 
 
 In 1788, Lord Mansfield resigned the chief-justice- 
 ship of the King's Bench ; Lord Kenyon, then Master 
 of the Rolls, succeeded him ; Sir R. P. Arden (Lord 
 Alvanley), then attorney-general, succeeded Lord 
 Kenyon ; the solicitor-general (Macdonald) became 
 attorney-general ; and the solicitor-generalship was 
 conferred upon Mr. (who thereupon became Sir John) 
 Scott. The story goes that he did not wish to be 
 knighted ; but the king said, " Pooh, pooh ! you must 
 be served like the rest," and knighted him. Mr. 
 Twiss says that the ceremony had not then become a 
 matter of course, and that he was really taken by 
 surprise. 
 
 The value of such a coadjutor was soon experi- 
 enced by Mr. Pitt. In the Regency debates of 1789, 
 the brunt of the discussion was sustained by the 
 solicitor-general. Shortly after the king's recovery,
 
 LORD ELDON. 433 
 
 he was requested to attend at Windsor, and in the 
 personal interview that followed, the king told him 
 " he had no other business with him than to thank 
 him for the affectionate fidelity with which he ad- 
 ,'Jbered to him when so many had deserted him in 
 his malady." The report that Lord Thurlow was of 
 the number is discountenanced in the " Anecdote 
 Book." But it is stated that several of the kin^-'s 
 friends thought it very desirable, for the king's sake, 
 that Lord Thurlow should continue chancellor, and 
 possibly that noble person thought it no less desirable 
 for his own. A trifling incident, remarked at the 
 time, was calculated to excite suspicion. When one 
 of the cabinet councils, held at the Queen's House, 
 broke up, and the ministers rose to depart. Lord 
 Thurlow's hat was missing. After a fruitless search 
 in the ordinary place, it was brought by a page, who 
 said he had found it in the prince's apartment, where 
 the chancellor, it seems, had left it, though he had no 
 ostensible business there, and had said nothing of any 
 interview with the prince. The report also derived 
 plausibility from the known ill-will between Lord 
 Thurlow and Mr. Pitt, which three years afterwards 
 led to an open rupture, and narrowly missed affecting 
 Lord Eldon's fortunes very seriously. 
 
 On this occasion Mr. Pitt sent for him, and said, 
 " Sir John Scott, I have a circumstance to mention to 
 you, which, on account of your personal and political 
 connexion with Lord Thurlow, I wish you should 
 first hear from myself Lord Thurlow and I have 
 quarrelled, and I have signified to him his Majesty's 
 commands that he should resign the great seal." The 
 answer, after an expression of regret, was, " j\fy resc- 
 lution is formed. I owe too great obligations to 
 Lord Thurlow to reconcile it to myself to act in poli- 
 tical hostility to him, and I have too long and too 
 conscientiously acted in political connexion with you 
 
 VOL. I. F F
 
 434 LORD ELDON. 
 
 to join any party against you. Nothing is left for 
 me but to resign my office as solicitor-general, and 
 to make my bow to the House of Commons." All 
 Mr. Pitt could do was to persuade him to delay acting 
 on this resolution till he had consulted Lord Thurlow. 
 The chancellor, after hearing what had passed, said, 
 " Scott, if there be anything which could make me 
 regret what has taken place (and I do not repent it), it 
 would be that you should do so foolish a thing." He 
 added, " I did not think the king would have parted 
 with me so easily. As to that other ma?i, he has done 
 to me just what I would have done to him, if I 
 could. It is very possible that Mr. Pitt, from party 
 motives, at this moment may overlook your preten- 
 sions ; but sooner or later you 7nust hold the Great 
 Seal. I know no man but yourself qualified for its 
 duties." 
 
 There was no reason beyond personal friendship, 
 why the solicitor-general should resign with the 
 chancellor, unless the chancellor had been going out 
 on some question of principle, on which the solicitor- 
 general agreed with him. Lord Thurlow was not 
 the leader of a political party, and was merely indivi- 
 dually offended with the premier. Sir John Scott 
 kept his place ; and Lord Loughborough received the 
 Great Seal, to Thurlow's increased umbrage, who dis- 
 liked and made light of him. Some good stories, 
 illustrating this, are told in the " Anecdote Book." 
 
 Once when Lord Loughborough was making a 
 considerable impression in the House of Lords, on a 
 subject which Lord Thurlow had not studied in 
 detail, the latter was heard to mutter, " If I was not 
 as lazy as a toad at the bottom of a well, I could kick 
 that fellow Loughborough heels over head any day 
 in the week." 
 
 Lord Thurlow told George IV., who repeated it to 
 Lord Eldon, that "the fellow (Lord L.) had the
 
 LORD ELDON. 435 
 
 gift of the gab in a marvellous degree, but that he 
 was no lawyer" — adding, "In the House of Lords 
 I get Kenyon, or somebody, to start some law doc- 
 trine, m such a manner that the fellow must get up 
 5:j:to answer it, and then I leave the woolsack, and give 
 him such a thump in his bread-basket, that he cannot 
 recover himself." Dr. Johnson, in comparing the 
 two, says, " I never heard anything from him 
 (Loughborough) that was at all striking; and depend 
 upon it, sir, it is when you come close to a man in 
 conversation that you discover what his real abilities 
 are. To make a speech in a public assembly, is a 
 knack." 
 
 Early in 1793 Sir Archibald Macdonald became 
 chief baron of the Exchequer, and Sir John Scott 
 succeeded him as attorney-general. From this 
 period, therefore, the responsibility of the Crown 
 prosecutions devolved upon him, and it fell to his lot 
 to institute some of the most memorable : amon<r 
 others, those against Hardy, Home Tooke, and Thel- 
 wall. . The result is well known. They all failed ; and 
 the attorney-general was much censured at the time, 
 even by the friends of the Government, for preferring 
 a charge of high treason, instead of indicting the 
 accused for sedition. The defence is twofold: first, 
 that such of the judges as were privy-councillors, and 
 were present during the preliminary inquiries (in- 
 cluding the chief justice who tried the prisoners), 
 stated that, in their judgment, the parties were guilty 
 of high treason ; secondly, that it was expedient to 
 make the country aware of the extent of the danger. 
 With regard to the first ground, we earnestly wish, for 
 the honour of British justice, it liad never existed, 
 though Chief Justice Eyre fortunately did not con- 
 sider himself bound by his extrajudicial opinion. 
 With regard to the second, it strikes us that nearly 
 the same disclosures mi^ht have been made on a trial 
 
 F F 2
 
 436 LORD ELDON. 
 
 for sedition. It is admitted on all hands, that the 
 attorney-general conducted the proceedings with 
 temper and forbearance. Home Tooke walked up to 
 him in Westminster Hall a few weeks afterwards, and 
 said, " Let me avail myself of this opportunity to ex- 
 press my sense of your humane and considerate con- 
 duct during the late trials." 
 
 At the end of his speech against Home Tooke, the 
 attorney-general fell into his habitual error of justi- 
 fying his character. " It is the little inheritance I 
 have to leave to my children, and, by God's help, I 
 will leave it unimpaired." Here he shed tears, and, 
 to the astonishment of the Court, the solicitor-general 
 (Mitford) began to weep in concert. " Ju^t look at 
 ]\Iitford," said a bystander to Home Tooke, " what 
 on earth is he crying for? " " He is crying to think 
 of the little inheritance Scott's children are likely to 
 get." 
 
 The populace were highly excited, and the crown 
 counsel had regularly to run the gauntlet between 
 their own houses and the Old Bailey. One evening, 
 as the attorney-general was about to leave the court, 
 Garrow said — "Mr. Attorney, do not pass that tall 
 man at the end of the table." " Why not pass him?" 
 asked Law. " He has been here the whole trial," 
 replied Garrow, " with his eyes constantly fixed on 
 the attorney-general." " I will pass him," said 
 Law. " And so will I," said Scott ; " happen what 
 may, the king's attorney-general must not show a 
 white feather." The conclusion must be told in his 
 own words : — 
 
 " I went and left them, but I will not say that I did not 
 give a little look over my shoulder at the man with the 
 slouched hat, as I passed him ; however, he did me no harm, 
 and I proceeded for some time unmolested. The mob kept 
 thickening around me till I came to Fleet Street, one of the 
 worst parts of London that I had to pass, through, and the 
 
 m
 
 LORD ELDON. 437 
 
 cries began to be rather threatening, ' Down with him — now 
 is the time, lads — do for him' — and various others, horrible 
 enough. So I stood up and spoke as loud as I could — 
 * You may do for me if you like, but remember there will 
 'be another attorney-general befure eight o'clock to-morrow 
 " morning ; the king will not allow the trials to be stopped ! ' 
 Upon this, one man shouted out — 'Say you so! you are 
 right to tell us. Let's give him three cheers, lads ! ' And 
 they actually cheered me, and I got safe to my own door. 
 When I was waiting to be let in, I felt a little queerish at 
 seeing close to me the identical man with the slouched hat ; 
 and I believe I gave him one or two rather suspicious looks, 
 for he came forward and said — ' Sir John, you need not be 
 afraid of me; every night since these trials commenced I 
 have seen you safe home before I went to my own home, 
 and I will continue to do so until they are over ; good 
 eveninjj, sir ! ' I had never seen the man before. 1 after- 
 wards found out who he was (I had some trouble in doing 
 so, for he did not make himself known), and I took care he 
 should feel my gratitude." * — [It is stated in the " Law 
 Magazine," that Lord Eldon had once done an act of great 
 kindness to the man's father.] 
 
 This was the period of Erskine's greatest triumph, 
 and he availed himself of his popularity to come to 
 the rescue of his antagonist. " I will not go on 
 without the attorney-general," was his frequent 
 call to the mob, as they crowded round his carriage 
 to attend him home. Some years afterwards he was 
 relating, in Lord Eldon's presence, how his horses 
 were taken out by the mob at the conclusion of 
 Hardy's trial. "Yes," added Lord Eldon, "and I 
 
 * An incident of the same sort occurred to the Duke of Wellington, 
 when assailed by a mob on liis return from the Tower, during the ex- 
 citement occasioned by the Reform Bill. A young man in a gig, or 
 taxed-cart, kept close to the duke's horse the whole way through the 
 city, in such a manner as completely to guard one side. He never once 
 looked up, nor had the air or manner of one who was doing anything 
 out of the way ; and we understand he remains to this day unknown, 
 thoush the ffreatest disgrace that could have fallen on tlie nation was, in 
 all human probability, averted by him. (See post, p. 451.) 
 
 r F 3
 
 438 LORD ELDON. 
 
 hear you never saw more of them." The laugh was 
 against Erskine, though the statement may be re- 
 garded as apocryphal. 
 
 In 1799 the chief justiceship of the Common 
 Pleas became vacant by the death of Sir J. Eyre, and 
 Sir Jolm Scott immediately laid claim to it. Both 
 the chancellor (Lord Loughborough) and Mr. Pitt 
 Avished to give it to Sir R. P.Arden (Lord Alvanley), 
 then Master of the Rolls, and Mr. Pitt was also un- 
 willing to lose a valuable supporter in Parliament. 
 " The difficulties were at length overcome — Mr. 
 Pitt agreeing, if, with the chief justiceship, I would, 
 as Lord Camden did, go into the House of Lords as 
 a peer ; and the king consented, provided that I would 
 promise not to refuse the Great Seal wlien he might 
 call upon me to accept it." No conditions could be 
 more flattering. He was made a sergeant (a neces- 
 sary preliminary to a seat on the bench of a court of 
 common law) on the 16th July, sworn of the Privy 
 Council on the 17th, created Baron Eldon of Eldon 
 on the 18th, and appointed chief justice of the 
 Common Pleas on the 19th. It was then customary 
 for the judges to wear powdered bush-wigs as a part 
 of their ordinary costume. This fretted Lady Eldon, 
 who was justly proud of her husband's good looks, 
 and, by her persuasion, he applied to George III. 
 for a dispensation, on the plea of headache. " No, 
 no ! " said the monarch, " I will have no innovations 
 in my time." Lord Eldon then urged that wigs were 
 in point of fact the innovation, not having been worn 
 by the judges of the olden time. "True," rejoined 
 the King, "and you may do as they did, if you like — 
 though they certainly had no wigs, yet they wore 
 their beards." * 
 
 * In the portraits of Sir Matthew Hale, and other judges of his 
 time, hung up in the Courts of Guildhall, they are represented with 
 beards and skull-caps ; but these portraits are not much better painted
 
 LORD ELDON. 439 
 
 Sir John Scott's annual emoluments at the bar, 
 during the six years he was attorney-general, varied 
 from 10,000/. to 12,000/. In the most productive year 
 (1796) they amounted to 12,140/. The circuit gains 
 5^ ^re small, and he was never esteemed a first-rate 
 nisi j^rius advocate. The year before he became 
 solicitor-general his fees exceeded 8000/. ; so that he 
 must have made a considerable sacrifice of private 
 practice, with the view of giving his full attention 
 to the business of the crown. Much larger profes- 
 sional incomes have been made of late years. The 
 late Lord Abinger has been heard to say, that he 
 received in one year, after he became attorney- 
 general, more than 18,000/. ; and the present attor- 
 ney-general (FoUett) is supposed to have exceeded 
 that sum before he attained his rank. The ofiice of 
 attorney-general is now understood to be Avorth 
 12,000/. a year, independent of private practice. 
 
 The change during the eighteenth century was much 
 less than might have been anticipated. Roger North 
 tells us that in Charles XL's reign " the attorney's 
 place was (with his practice) near 7000/. per annum, 
 and the cushion of the Common Pleas not above 
 4000/." Mr. Barrington says (1795), "there is a 
 common tradition in Westminster Hall, that Sir 
 Edward Coke's gains at the latter end of the seven- 
 teenth century, equalled those of a modern attorney- 
 general ; " and it appears from Bacon's works, that 
 he made 6000/. a year as attorney-general. Brown- 
 low, a prothonotary of the Common Pleas during 
 the reign of Elizabeth, received 6000/. per aimum. 
 
 tlum the portraits of the Scottish kings at Ilolyrood, and may not be 
 entitled to rank higher as authorities. The powdered wig gradually dege- 
 nerated into an ordinary flaxen one ; even that began to be left off about 
 twenty years ago; and, since the death of Mr. Justice Littledale, no 
 judge is distinguishable in a drawing-room from the ordinary mob of 
 gentlemen by his dress. 
 
 F F 4
 
 440 LORD ELDON. 
 
 " I received this account from one who had examined 
 Brownlow's books, and who also informed me that 
 Brownlow used to close the profits of the year with 
 laiis Deo^ and when they happened to be extraordi- 
 nary, maxima laus Deo^ * 
 
 On the other hand. Sir Thomas More told his son- 
 in-law and biographer (Roper), that he made about 
 400/. a year by his profession, " with a good con- 
 science;" and in Seward's Anecdotes^ we find, "my 
 lord (Sir M. Hale) said that 1000/. a year was a 
 great deal for any common lawyer to get, and Mr. 
 Harrington said that Mr. Winnington did make 
 2000/. per year by it. My lord answered that Mr. 
 AVinnington made great advantage by his 6ity prac- 
 tice, but did not believe he made so much of it." 
 
 Lord Eldon continued chief justice of the Common 
 Pleas from July, 1799, to April, 1801. This was the 
 brightest period of his judicial career. When he sat 
 with his brethren in Banc, he was obliged to keep 
 pace with them ; and when he sat at nisi prius by 
 himself, he was obliged to decide upon the instant. 
 His tendency to hesitate, therefore, did not become 
 manifest; while his learning, penetration, temper, 
 and sagacity, might eventually have made him, what 
 Lord Kenyon, on hearing of the appointment, said 
 he would be — as consummate a judge as ever sat in 
 judgment. It was also the happiest period. " How 
 I did love that court ! " is his parenthetical exclama- 
 tion in the " Anecdote Book ; " and once, during a 
 walk with Mr. Farrer, after comparing the harassing 
 duties of the chancellorsliip with the quiet of the 
 Common Pleas, he suddenly turned round, and em- 
 phatically abjured his companion never to aspire to 
 
 * Observations on the more Ancient Statutes. By the Hon. Danes 
 Barrington, 4to. p. 509. During the railway mania, as much as 40,000/. 
 is said to have been made in the course of a parliamentary session by an 
 eminent counsel. 
 
 If
 
 LORD ELDON. 441 
 
 the Great Seal — a curious piece of advice to a young 
 barrister. 
 
 Early in 1801, when Mr. Pitt's resignation was an- 
 ticipated, it was understood that Lord Eldon was to 
 j-j^succeed Lord Loughborough as chancellor ; but Lord 
 Eldon maintained a cautious reserve on the subject, 
 which he justifies by an anecdote. " Lord Walsing- 
 ham, the son of Lord Chief Justice de Grey, told me 
 that his father, the chief justice, gave a dinner to his 
 family and friends, on account of his going to have 
 the Great Seal as chancellor next morning, but that 
 in the interim, between the dinner and the next 
 morning, Mr. Justice Bathurst, it was determined, 
 should be chancellor, and received the seal." 
 
 The Great Seal was delivered to him on the 14th 
 April, 1801. He used to say he was the king's 
 chancellor, not the minister's. " I do not know 
 what made George III. so fond of me, but he ivas 
 fond of me. Did I ever tell you the manner in 
 which he gave me the seals ? When I went to him 
 he had his coat buttoned thus (one or two buttons 
 fastened at the lower part), and putting his right 
 hand within, he drew them from out the left side, 
 saying, ' 1 give them to you from my heart.' " 
 
 It is remarkable that George IV., who, as he 
 confessed, began by hating Lord Eldon, ended by 
 becoming as much attached to him as George III. 
 '• On Monday," says Lord Eldon, in a letter to 
 his grandson describing his final resignation, " your 
 grandfather attended with the rest of the ministers 
 to give up the seals of office, and was, of course, 
 called in first. The kino; was so much affected that 
 very little passed ; but he threw his arms round your 
 grandfather's neck and shed tears." 
 
 That resignation took place in April 30, 1827, on 
 the formation of Mr. Canning's government. After 
 allowing for the succession during the ^yhig Govern-
 
 442 LORD ELDON. 
 
 ment in 1806-1807, it appears that Lord Eldon held 
 the Great Seal twenty-four years, ten months, and 
 twenty- three days — a longer period than any other 
 chancellor ever held it. It is strange, therefore, that 
 his retirement elicited no address or testimonial from 
 the bar, to whom he was uniformly courteous. An 
 address was presented by the masters in chancery ; 
 but its value is somewhat diminished by a sentence 
 in the answer: — "Lord Eldon reflects with great 
 pleasure upon the fact, that he has given to the 
 public the benefit of the services of all these gen- 
 tlemen." 
 
 It is undeniable that Lord Eldon possessed judicial 
 qualities of a very high order. They are thus men- 
 tioned by Mr. Abercromby (now Lord Dunfermline) 
 in the House of Commons, so long ago as June 
 1828 : " He expressed his belief that no man could be 
 more conscientiously inclined to give a correct judg- 
 ment than Lord Eldon ; and declared himself willing 
 to admit that the noble and learned lord was an indi- 
 vidual gifted with the most extraordinary acuteness 
 of intellect — that he possessed a most profound 
 knowledge of law — that he enjoyed a most aston- 
 ishing memory — and that he was endowed with a 
 surprisingly correct and discriminating judgment." 
 
 AVe quote this to prove that there was no very 
 great wish, even at that time, among his warmest 
 political adversaries, to run him down. Conscien- 
 tiousness, extraordinary acuteness of intellect, pro- 
 found knowledge of law, astonishing memory, correct 
 and discriminating judgment — what more can be 
 demanded in a judge? — is the first question that 
 suggests itself, as we glance over this splendid list of 
 qualities ; but, on looking a second time, we become 
 aware that a material one is wanting — one abso- 
 lutely indispensable to the effective appUcation of the 
 rest. That quality was decision. Pascal says that a
 
 LORD ELDON. 443 
 
 sinirle additional grain of matter in Cromwell's senso- 
 rium might have destroyed his characteristic energy, 
 and prevented him from attaining to greatness : this 
 additional grain had unluckily got into Lord Eldon's. 
 %j^he good fairy had showered most of her choicest in- 
 tellectual gifts upon his head, when the wicked fairy 
 dashed them all with the prophetic deimnciation, thou 
 shalt doubt And doubt he did, with a tenacity, in- 
 genuity, and refinement, unparalleled in the history 
 of mind. He loved an if as much as Tristram 
 Shandy hated one. At the bar, he lost all his 
 opinion-giving business, by his attachment to this 
 little word ; on the bench, he did all that in him lay 
 to neutralise his utility by means of it. In allusion 
 to Lord Erskine's fondness for the first person sin- 
 gular, the wits of the " Antijacobin " apologised for 
 not reporting the whole of one of his speeches, 
 because the printer had no Fs left : they might have 
 apologised for not reporting Lord Eldon's judgments 
 for want of types to print his innumerable ifs, hits, 
 and thoughs. As he grew older, he grew worse ; and, 
 latterly, there was hardly any chance of getting him 
 to utter a sentence without a saving clause. 
 
 The existence of this tendency is notorious, but its 
 peculiar mode of operating is less known ; and we will 
 therefore illustrate it by an example. We quote from 
 Sir Samuel Romilly's " Diary : " — 
 
 " Of this case (the name is not material), which had been 
 aro-ued before the lono- vacation, the lord chancellor said 
 to-day that he had read all the evidence over three several 
 times, and that he did not think that there was sufficient 
 proof to warrant his directing an issue, but that as it was the 
 case of a pauper, he would go over all the evidence once 
 more ; and for that purpose he directed the cause to stand 
 over generally, without appointing any time for his final de- 
 termination, lie thus condemns all the other impatient 
 suitors to continue waiting, in anxious expectation of having
 
 444 LORD ELDON. 
 
 their causes declclecl, till he shall have mafJe himself quite 
 sure, by another perusal of the depositions, that he has not 
 been already three times mistaken." 
 
 Sir Samuel observes that this habit was the more 
 provoking, because Lord Eldon was hardly ever 
 known to differ from his first impression. So well 
 was this understood, that it was not at all unusual 
 for parties to settle causes out of court, so soon as his 
 impression could be collected. This, however, was 
 no easy matter. What, for example, could be col- 
 lected from the following ? — " His Lordship said, that 
 he would not say, that, upon the evidence without the 
 answers, he should not have had so much doubt 
 whether he ought not to rectify the agreement, as to 
 take more time to consider whether the bill should be 
 dismissed." {The Marquis of Toivnshend v. Stran- 
 groom, 6 Ves. Jun.^ p. 328.) 
 
 Such modes of conduct and expression are ex- 
 tremely inconvenient to suitors ; but Mr. Twiss has 
 convinced himself, and is resolved to convince the 
 world, that Lord Eldon will go down to posterity 
 with his judgments, like Napoleon with his Code 
 (though hardly, we fancy, in his hand) ; and they are 
 boldly proposed as the touchstone of his fame. Li a 
 passage which we quote for another reason, Mr. Twiss, 
 after citing Mr. Abercromby's testimony as above, 
 proceeds: — "Such acknowledgments (and they are 
 frequent in the debates from 1823 to 1827) takeaway 
 from his defenders all necessity, nay, almost all excuse, 
 for indulging in the details of panegyric. He can 
 have no more complete and satisfactory voucher than 
 the 7'eluctant candour of his adversaries. But it is 
 not alone upon contemporary testimonials that his 
 judicial fame will rest. The usefulness of a judge 
 does not cease with his employment : his judgments 
 survive to succeeding times as lights and landmarks ; 
 and with them his reputation endures. By such re-
 
 LORD ELDON. 445 
 
 mains, the lawyers of future clays will form their 
 estimate of Lord Chancellor Eldon." 
 
 Instead, however, of going to them at once, Mr. 
 Twiss, by way of giving us a specimen of willing 
 Tcandour, goes first to a Number of this Journal, pub- 
 lishedmore than twenty-one years ago (October 1823), 
 when party politics ran high — quotes the strongest 
 passages apart from the context — makes them the 
 subject of a commentary — says nothing of a later 
 article written in a most conciliatory spirit — and 
 would fain lead the public to believe that we were 
 guilty of an illiberal attack, and that he has fairly 
 answered us. Does Mr. Twiss remember the con- 
 trivance by which Zadig's verses on the King of 
 Babylon were converted into a libel ? 
 
 It is told of Sheridan, that, on some occasion when 
 his conduct had been misrepresented, he was advised 
 to set himself right with the public. In order to 
 pave the way, he addressed a letter to the newspapers 
 under a feigned name, pointedly restating the charge ; 
 but, as soon as he had gone thus far, his habitual 
 carelessness came over him, and the letter was left 
 unanswered. J\Ir. Twiss has done for Lord Eldon 
 pretty nearly what Sheridan did for himself ; the 
 only difference being, that Sheridan did not attempt 
 an answer, and Mr. Twiss has attempted one in vain. 
 But the policy of such a course is always doubtful 
 when so long a period has elapsed. It is never wise 
 to pin an adversary to the precise expressions uttered 
 at the commencement of a dispute ; and the party 
 whose defence is undertaken on this principle is 
 pretty sure to find himself in the condition of the 
 boy in Don Quixote, who got a second thrashing 
 in consequence of the knight's interference in his 
 behalf. 
 
 We will do our best to prevent anything of this 
 sort from occurring in the present instance; but we
 
 446 LORD ELDON. 
 
 cannot allow Mr. Twiss to triumph over a highly 
 distinguished contributor (the late Mr. Justice 
 AVilliains), whom he names. He begins by impugning 
 our authority. We spoke, it seems, " of that labora- 
 tory called Mr. Vesey Junior's Reports, comprised 
 as it is within the very moderate compass of eighteen 
 solid octavos," and Mr. Twiss thinks he now has us 
 on the hip. Every equity practitioner, he says, 
 knows that there are nineteen ; therefore you are not 
 a o^ood and true barrister at all, or not conversant 
 with equity business. " In either case, it is obvious, 
 that the criticisms, if they are to have any weight, 
 must derive it from something more than the mere 
 authority of the writer." To be sure they must. 
 Testimony (as he might read in Hooker) is like an 
 arrow shot from a longbow ; the force of it depends 
 on the strength of the hand that draws it. Argument 
 is like an arrow from a crossbow, which has equal 
 force, though shot by a child. Reviewers, writing 
 anonymously, are, to all intents and purposes, cross- 
 bow men. But it hurts our feelings to be accused 
 of ignorance. Let us see, then, how this weighty 
 matter stands. Eighteen volumes of Vesey were 
 completed in 1817; and it stood as an eighteen 
 volume compilation till 1822, when another volume 
 appeared. AVhat more natural than, writing popularly, 
 to speak of it as an eighteen volume book in 1823 ? 
 — 'just as many of us went on speaking of the twelve 
 judges of England long after they had become the 
 fifteen. 
 
 This slip (if it be one) would hardly affect our 
 testimony, did we wish to be received as witnesses ; 
 and, at any rate, our testimony would go as far as 
 that of the witnesses adduced against us by Mr. 
 Twiss; who actually attempts to bear us down by 
 the testimony of dedications, addressed to Lord 
 Eldon, during his chancellorship, by practising bar-
 
 LORD ELDON. 447 
 
 risters ! We shall next have dedications from cour- 
 tiers cited to prove the virtues of princes, or amatory 
 verses, to prove that all the famous beauties were as 
 virtuous as they were beautiful. When a practising 
 Jrbarrister dedicates to a reigning chancellor, he means 
 to flatter ; and the most effective flattery is to praise 
 a person for qualities which he or she ought to have, 
 or pretends to, and has not. If a respectable man of 
 letters had told Madame de Stael that her " Germany " 
 was a great work, she would have turned from him 
 with a sneer ; but, by alluding to her feminine fasci- 
 nations, the veriest coxcomb might have become her 
 oracle. It would have been a hazardous feat-to com- 
 mend Cardinal Richelieu for his statesmanship ; but 
 a judicious compliment to his tragedy might have 
 earned a pension or a place. Just so, Lord Eldon 
 did not want learned gentlemen to tell him that he 
 possessed vast learning (which he knew as well as 
 they did), but to compliment him on having recast 
 and systematised the doctrines of equity. 
 
 Such testimony, therefore, goes for very little, de- 
 spite of the high professional reputation of the writers ; 
 and the question must be decided by the actual con- 
 tents of the nineteen volumes (be the same more or 
 less*), and the fifteen or sixteen other volumes of 
 reports, in which Lord Eldon's judgments lie, like 
 Egyptian mununies, embalmed in a multitude of art- 
 fully contrived folds and wrappers. 
 
 Mr. Twiss should refer us to an occasional judg- 
 ment or two, like the best known of Lord Stowell's, 
 or else to a series of judgments, like tlie whole of 
 Lord Redesdale's or Lord Cottenham's — plain, clear, 
 practical, and satisfactory ; the obvious product of a 
 mind par negotiis neque supra, amply supplied with 
 
 * "We bog !Mr. Twiss to mark this saving chnisc, for the edition now in 
 use, including the index, consists of twenty volumes; and the first five 
 are filled with cases decided prior to Lord Eldon's chancellorship.
 
 448 LOUD ELDON. 
 
 general principles, and saturated with the peculiar 
 learning of equity. He cannot do this. Still less 
 (to revert a moment to the broad objection of delay) 
 can he lay the blame on the system, and so excuse 
 the judge, without accusing the legislator. Lord 
 Eldon might have carried any measure of legal reform 
 as easily as the Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert 
 Peel carried Catholic Emancipation. In his awn 
 court, he might have played the part of Hercules in 
 the Augean stable ; but he preferred to sit among the 
 accumulations of dirt and rubbish, and looked with 
 marked disfavour on all who approached to meddle 
 with them. 
 
 On the whole, this book will do more for LordEldon's 
 private than for his public character. It shows him 
 possessed of many amiable and attractive qualities ; 
 numerous acts of generosity, some amounting to 
 munificence, refute the popular notion of his in- 
 grained avarice, which had got abroad in conse- 
 quence of his wife's thrifty housekeeping ; his 
 demeanour appears to have been uniformly upright 
 and manly, as well as courteous*; and notwith- 
 standing our rooted antipathy to Joseph Surfaces of 
 all sorts, we are ready to believe that he was honest 
 as this world goes, whilst eternally talking about his 
 
 * " Sir John Scott used to be a great deal at my house. I saw much 
 of him then, and it is no more than his due to say, that, when he was 
 solicitor and attorney-general under Pitt, he never fawned and flat- 
 tered as some did, but always assumed the tone and station of a man who 
 was conscious that he must show he respects himself, if he wishes to be 
 respected by others." {Life of Wilherforce, vol. v. p. 214.) 
 
 It was Lord Eldon's habit of appealing to Providence, and his earnest- 
 ness of tone on religious subjects, that laid him open to the charge of 
 insincerity. In allusion to his slack attendance at divine service, it was 
 said that he might be a bulwark or buttress of the church, but certainly 
 not a pillar, as he was never inside ; and the late Earl Grey used to tell 
 a story of seeing him correct a private Act of Parliament whilst on his 
 knees at prayers in the House of Lords. On Lord Grey's intimating 
 
 surprise at the incident, "D it," exclaimed Lord Eldon, "you 
 
 would do so too, if you were worked to death as I am."
 
 LORD ELDON. 449 
 
 honesty. But his friends must not claim an exalted 
 place for him in the Temple of Fame, among the 
 magnates of intellect, or the benefactors of mankind. 
 There was nothing grand in his genius, elevated in 
 his views, comprehensive in his benevolence, or far- 
 ' sighted in his policy. He has not left a sentence 
 which any one but a technical lawyer would care to 
 read ; and not a single measure of enlightened or 
 largely useful legislation is associated with his name, 
 except as an opponent. As for his statesmanship, the 
 elaborate panegyric, forming the commencement of 
 Mr. Twiss's first chapter, proceeds on a most gra- 
 tuitous assumption. Mr. Twiss here assigns to Lord 
 Eldon the sort of influence which was exercised (for 
 good or evil) by Burke and Pitt. It was Burke who 
 furnished the philosophy by whicli a halo was for a 
 period thrown round ancient establishments. It 
 was Pitt who formed the great continental and party 
 league for their defence. Lord Eldon was simply one 
 of the four or five statesmen who trod haud passibus 
 wquis in the footsteps of their prototype. He did 
 effective service in consolidating a Cabinet or two, 
 but he never exercised an independent sway over the 
 councils of the nation, whatever he might have done 
 in the King's closet; nor ever led more than a 
 section of the Tory party, — and it was fortunate for 
 the Empire that he did not. " A few drops more of 
 Eldonine, and we should have had the People's 
 Charter."* 
 
 It is going far enough to call Lord Eldon a great 
 lawyer ; but to call him a great man, or assign him 
 the honours paid to those who have performed noble 
 actions, produced immortal works, or conferred 
 lasting benefits on mankind, is to degrade the general 
 
 * Quarterly Review, vol. Ixxiii. p. 542. lie was not so much as con- 
 sulted on the formation of the Duke of Wellington's government in 18'26. 
 (See llic Life, vol iii. ch. li.) 
 
 VOL. I. G G
 
 450 LORD ELDON. 
 
 standard of excellence, to canker public virtue in the 
 bud. There are rewards of a different order set 
 apart for those who work for present objects and 
 present pay. To a fair share of, these- he" was en- 
 titled, and he had it. His earldom, his half -million, 
 and the " one cheer more " of his biographer, 'are 
 enough in all conscience for such services as his; even 
 if the " one cheer more " should not be c.anght up 
 and echoed back by posterity. 
 
 The following letter relates to the incident mentioned in 
 the note, ante p. 437 : 
 
 "19, Kinif's Arms Yard., 
 
 "March 7tli, 184.5. ' 
 
 " Sir, — In reading the Review of the life of Lord Eldon 
 in your January Numl)er, my attention was particularly 
 attracted to the note on p. 171." 
 
 " The unknown hero of the Reviewer's story is William 
 Joseph Cooper, of 21, Snckville Street, Piccadilly. The 
 occurrence took place, 1 think, on the memorable 18th June. 
 Mr. Cooper was dining in the neighbourhood of the Tower, 
 when he met the Duke of Wellington followed by a mob, 
 who Avere wishing him many happy returns of the day, with 
 a profuse accompaniment of yells and mud. Cooper at 
 once turned his horse round, drove into the midst of the 
 rabble, and ranged up alongside the Duke. His Grace's 
 groom rode on the other side. Thus escorted, his Grace 
 proceeded through the city ; the manifestation of popular 
 gratitude continuing in quantity and quality much as before, 
 the Duke's escort partaking largely of the honours designed 
 for his Grace. At the corner of Chancery Lane, some po- 
 licemen came to the Duke's assistance, and Mi'. Cooi)er 
 returned into the city and called upon mc. He was covered 
 with mud, and was smarting under some bruises, which 
 he had received in exchange for the effective application 
 of the butt end of his whip. He told me of his morning's 
 work, and was highly delighted. For such an exploit, dis- 
 tinctions of all sorts naturally suggested themselves to every
 
 *^~l 
 
 LOKD ELDON. 451 
 
 one but Mr. Coopci', who seemed to think (as your Reviewer 
 expresses it), that he had done nothing ' out of the way.' Of 
 this I am quite sure, that if any visions of greatness did 
 present themselves to Mr. Cooper's mind, they all fell far 
 short of the flattering distinction of his humble yet hearty 
 
 ^services receiving such honourable mention in the columns 
 
 *of your distinguished, periodical. 
 
 "I have the honour to be, sir, 
 
 " Your most obedient servant, 
 '' Thos. Lacy." 
 
 " To the Editor of tlie ' Edinburgh Review.' " 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
 
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