LETTER VIII.

TO THE REV. D. W.

DEAR DAVID,

OMAN'S, TUESDAY EVENING.

I am rather surprised that you should already begin to call upon me for disquisition, when you may well suppose I have still so many interesting descriptions to give you. I have now seen, not one or two, but a great number of those eminent persons who confer so much honour upon the present condition of Scotland, and of whom you yourself have so often talked to me in terms of ardent curiosity. I assure you, but indeed why should I waste words to do so, that the extraordinary talents of these men are as far as possible from losing by a close inspection of their manners. The tone of that society, which they have necessarily had so great a share in forming, is as free as possible from the influence of that spirit of jealousy and constraint which I have observed operating in some other cities, in

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such a way, as to prevent men of genius from doing justice to themselves, elsewhere than in their writings. Hereafter, indeed, I shall have occasion to say something of the spirit of party in Scotland, and to show with what destructive violence it attacks the very essence of cordial communion among some of the less considerable classes of society. Nay, I fear from what I already see, that I shall find some little occasion to lament the insidious and half unsuspected influences of the same spirit among those who should be more above its working. But in the social intercourse of most of the men of literary eminence whom I have as yet seen, the absence of all feeling of party appears to be quite as entire as that of some other, and yet more offensive feelings which are elsewhere sufficiently manifest in their effects; and the principles, as well as the reputation of the one of such men, appear to act in no other way upon the other, than as gentle stimulants of his intellect, and of his courtesy.

My friend W, as I have already whispered, not only forms, but glories in forming, an exception to this sort of behaviour. He utterly hates a Whig and a Calvinist, and he has no scruple about saying as much upon every occasion. He abominates the style of complaisant

smoothness, with which some, who entertain many of his own opinions, are accustomed to treat those whom he calls by no better name than the Adversaries; and complains indeed with an air of gravity, which I should not have expected in any man of his understanding, that by this species of conduct, the Great Cause itself, (by which he means the cause of true religion and true patriotism, as united and inseparable), has sustained, is sustaining, and is likely to sustain injuries of a more dangerous character than its unassisted enemies alone could have any power of inflicting. He has a two-fold argument on this head. "In the first place," says he," the utterly ignorant and uninformed, who must constitute the great majority of every nation, and the half ignorant and conceited, who constitute an infinitely larger proportion of the Scotch than of any other nation under heaven -and who, wherever they may be found, are a far more despicable, though no doubt, a more dangerous class than that upon which they think themselves entitled to look down-all these people, "thick as the leaves in Vallambrosa," are, in spite of themselves, mightly influenced in all things by the example of the few men of true genius and learning their country does contain.

They see the external kindness with which these men treat the persons of their enemies, and it is no wonder that they care not to make nice distinctions between persons and principles for themselves. In the second place, says he, the good cavalier himself cannot keep company with roundheads-no, nor the good son of the true church cannot consort in familiarity with the relics of the cold-blooded covenanters on the one hand, or with those of the equally cold-blooded sceptic and infidel tribe on the other, without losing somewhat of the original purity of his affectionate faith. For my part, he concludes, I will do no harm to others or to myself, by such rash and unworthy obsequiences." The plain English of all which is, perhaps, nothing more, than that my good friend is too great a bigot to-be capable of feeling much happiness in the presence of men who differ from him on points which he considers as of so much importance, and that he is willing, in avoiding their company, to cover his true motives from his acquaintance, in part it may be from himself, by the assumption of others, to which, in truth, he has little legitimate pretension.

Be all this as it may, W is, without doubt, the keenest tory in Scotland; indeed, I believe I

should not go far from the truth, should I say, that his Toryism both far more smells of the old cavalier school, and is far more keen and intolerant than that of any man of superior attainments, I ever met with on either side of the Tweed. A Scotsman of genuine talents, who sincerely entertains such opinions, may perhaps claim no inconsiderable indulgence, although the present condition of his country should affect him with feelings of aversion, almost of loathing, towards politicians of another kind, such as would be altogether unpardonable in an English Tory. In our part of the island, thank God, the pedigree of right thoughts has at no period been interrupted; and never, I firmly believe, did the venerable tree present a more imposing spectacle of bloom and vigour than at the present. In literature, as in every other walk of exertion and department of life, the Tories have, at least, their equal share of power and of honour. In the church, their principles are maintained by a mighty majority of a clergy, whom even their enemies will acknowledge to be the most learned in the world, and who, whatever may be their comparative deficiencies in some other respects, are certainly far more in