that

tic rebukes. If we knew the man, we should see, to return an acrimonious answer would be the most ridiculous of all possible modes of retort. While he has the laugh of all Europe on his side, from London to St. Petersburg, he may safely defy the utmost severity of denunciation, backed by the most labored array of facts. Revenge is to be sought, not in denouncing, but in quoting him. He has written for the last forty years upon the affairs of England, with the same careless disregard of the external proprieties of literature, and the same fearlessness of tone, which he has displayed in his censure of the United States; but as the offences which prompt strong invective have been far more numerous and flagrant in his own country than in ours, the brilliancy and bitterness of his satire have never appeared to more advantage than when confined to home scenes and home institutions. His hostility to us arises from pardonable ignorance and personal prejudice, and therefore his accusations are to be regarded with suspicion : his hostility to many features of English society and English law sprung from his conscience and personal knowledge, and may be received with confidence. He has always been a strong friend of liberal principles, and an unflinching and merciless enemy to fraud and corruption. There have been, in the present century, many able Englishmen who have made injustice and bigotry appear detestable; but to Sydney Smith, more than to any other, belongs the merit of making them appear ridiculous. Placemen, pedants, hypocrites, tories, who could doze very placidly beneath threats and curses, fretted and winced at the sharp sting of his wit. He has subjected himself to charges which are most injurious to a clergyman, — impropriety, levity, infidelity;

he has allowed his opinions to stand in the way of his professional advancement, rather than swerve from the principles of his political creed, or forbear shooting cut his tongue at hypocrisy and selfishness.

But even if his services to humanity and freedom had not given him the privilege to be a little saucy to republics, the individuality of his character would screen him from the indignation we feel against libellers whose judgments are less influenced by eccentric humor. We) desire to learn Sydney Smith's opinion on any matter of public interest, not because his temper of mind is such as to give it intrinsic weight, but because we know it will generally be shrewd, honest, independent, peculiar in its conception, and racy in its expression. Almost everything he has written is so characteristic, that it would be difficult to attribute it to any other man. The marked individual features, and the rare combination of powers, displayed in his works, give them a fascination, unconnected with the subject of which he treats, or the general correctness of his views. He sometimes hits the mark in the white, he sometimes misses it altogether, for he by no means confines his pen to themes to which he is calculated to do justice; but whether he hits or misses, he is always sparkling and delightful. The charm of his writings is somewhat similar to that of Montaigne's or Charles Lamb's, a charm which owes much of its power to that constant intrusion of the writer's individuality, by which we make a companion where we expected to find only a book; and this companion, as soon as we understand him, becomes one of our most valued acquaintances.

The familiarity of Sydney Smith's manner does not consist merely in his style; indeed, the terseness and

brilliancy of his diction, though not at all artificial in appearance, could not have been attained without labor and solicitude; - but it is the result of the blunt, fearless, severe, yet good-humored, nature of the man. He gives us not only his opinions, but himself; he allows us to see all the nooks and crannies of his heart and understanding. His frankness of expression is a glass wherein his whole personality is mirrored. He does not observe any of those literary conventionalties which distinguish a writer from his book. His peculiarity in this respect is the more worthy of notice, as it is so rare. He possesses, more than any other author of the present century, the faculty of talking in printed sheets.

The difference between the tone and character of literature and of social life is worthy of more attention than it generally receives. The ignorance of those who are called "book-men" arises, in great part, from a disregard of this distinction. Many of them think they can obtain a knowledge of history and human nature by haunting libraries; and if "standard" histories fairly reflected events and persons, and standard philosophies gave us man instead of ethics and metaphysics, they would not be in the wrong. But this is not the case. Before book can be rightly interpreted, a knowledge of life and affairs is necessary. A very slight acquaintance with the different ranks and modes of society, a familiarity with two or three politicians who contribute to congressional or parliamentary debates, a little companionship with the world's rulers in literature and government, will soon teach us the difference between actions and the record of actions, between the man and the author. then, to some extent, see the world, not in its official costume, but in nightgown and slippers. The dignitary

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whose sonorous sentences caught and charmed the ear and seemed to lift him above the weaknesses of humanity, becomes simply a man, - perhaps a prattler or a coxcomb. Many a statesman, whose talk is garnished with ribaldry and profanity, and who utters in conversation the grossest personalities against his opponents, no sooner rises to make an oration, than his whole course of speech undergoes a change, and the newspapers inform us of the grandeur of thought which characterized what is justly termed his "effort." A state document is often one of the rarest of juggles. Who shall say what false notions we obtain of governors from their missives and messages? Who can calculate what a vast amount of deception and quackery is hidden in the jargon of official papers and legislative enactments? The difference between Hume's James the First and Scott's King Jamie, between a newspaper report of a public dinner and that of an eye and ear witness, hardly measures the difference between a dignitary in undress and a dignitary in buck

ram.

It is not wonderful, then, that our notions of dignity are somewhat shocked in reading an author who is not ashamed to write what he is not ashamed to think, who speaks to the world as he would speak to his immediate friends, who forces his meaning into no conventional moulds, but gives free course to all the natural and healthy impulses of his nature, and is not frightened into feebleness by the desire of "preserving his dignity." Indeed, in this last word we have the fundamental principle of artificial composition. An author conceives that he must be dignified, even if he be not profound, accurate, or powerful. The pharisees and dolts of society find the term a convenient substitute for everything val

uable which it assumes to represent. In literature, it is the last refuge of mediocrity,—a stilted elevation, on which tottering debility mumbles barren truisms.

Now, in this world, it is more important that we obtain what is real than what is dignified. Truth, in the homeliest attire, is better than falsehood in balanced periods. If we desire to know the condition of England during the last century, it is not enough that we read grave histories and lying laureate odes. Painfully elaborated sentences, affecting to describe battles, sieges, administrations, nonsensical impersonations of the country under the names of Albion and Britannia, cannot give us the vivid pictures of government and society which we find painted to the life in the novels of Fielding and Smollett. In the latter, we see the vulgarity, the selfishness, the cruelty, the ignorance, the vice, the clashing opinions, the manners or the want of manners, both of men in authority, and men in subjection. The rough, sturdy virtues of the English people, likewise, essentially different from those ascribed to them in orations, are made apparent, amid all the exaggeration and caricature of romance. Dickens's novels are more faithful representations of England at the present day than can be obtained from parliamentary debates and reports of committees. Dr. Johnson's conversation, it is known, was pointed, vigorous, and racy; but it has been said, that, when he wrote, he translated his ideas into Johnsonese. The feelings, thoughts, and characters of men are apt to pass through a similar process, when forced to take form in written compositions. The distinction made by the old philosophers between their esoteric and exoteric doctrines, their doctrines for the few and their doctrines for the many, is still preserved among politicians and his