Chapter VI: St. Paul's--The Parallelogram--Archdeacon Singleton--Collected Works (2)

"I was much amused with what old Hermann says of the Bishop of
London's _Æschylus_. 'We find,' he says, '_a great arbitrariness of
proceeding, and much boldness of innovation, guided by no sure
principle_'; here it is: _qualis ab incepto_. He begins with Æschylus,
and ends with the Church of England; begins with profane, and ends
with holy innovations--scratching out old readings which every
commentator had sanctioned; abolishing ecclesiastical dignities which
every reformer had spared; thrusting an anapæest into a verse, which
will not bear it; and intruding a Canon into a Cathedral, which does
not want it; and this is the Prelate by whom the proposed reform of
the Church has been principally planned, and to whose practical wisdom
the Legislature is called upon to defer. The Bishop of London is a man
of very great ability, humane, placable, generous, munificent; very
agreeable, but not to be trusted with great interests where calmness
and judgment are required: unfortunately, my old and amiable
school-fellow, the Archbishop of Canterbury, has melted away before
him, and sacrificed that wisdom on which we all founded our
security.... Whatever happens, I am not to blame. I have fought my
fight. Farewell"

A little later he wrote to an old friend:--

"I don't like writing to the Bishop of London: it is making a fuss,
and looks as if I regretted the part I had taken on Church Reform,
which I certainly do not--but I should be much annoyed if the Bishop
were to consider me as a perpetual grumbler against him and his
measures--I really am not: I like the Bishop and like his
conversation--the battle is ended, and I have no other quarrel with
him and the Archbishop but that they neither of them ever ask me to
dinner. You see a good deal of the Bishop, and as you have always
exhorted me to be a good boy, take an opportunity to set him right as
to my real dispositions towards him, and exhort him, as he has gained
the victory, to forgive a few hard knocks."

In the summer of 1839 Courtenay Smith died suddenly, and left no will.[130] He had accumulated wealth in India, and a third part of it now passed to his brother Sydney. Referring to these circumstances four years later, Sydney wrote:--

"This put 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_. What intolerable nonsense!

"I have been very poor the greatest part of my life, and have borne it
as well, I believe, as most people, but I can safely say that I have
been happier every guinea I have gained."

His novel opulence did not paralyse his pen. In 1839 he published a vehement attack upon the Ballot, from which he foresaw no better results than the enfranchisement of every one, including women, universal corruption, systematic lying, and a victory for the "lower order of voters" over their "betters." Of the great advocate of the Ballot, George Grote,[131] he says--"Mr. Grote knows the relative values of gold and silver; but by what moral rate of exchange is he able to tell us the relative values of Liberty and Truth?"

The paper on the Ballot was included in a collection of reprints, mainly from the _Edinburgh Review_, which he published in 1839. The book sold so well that in 1840 he published an enlarged edition. The articles reprinted from the _Edinburgh_ amount to sixty-five, and a memorandum by his daughter shows that twelve more were omitted from the reproduction, "probably because their subjects are already treated of in the extracted articles, or because they applied only to the period in which they were written," The complete list will be found in Appendix A.

In the preface to these collected pieces, which are styled _The Works of the Rev. Sydney Smith_, the author said, after recounting the circumstances under which the _Edinburgh Review_ was founded:--

"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 extremely fortunate. Strange and
ludicrous are the changes in human affairs. The Tories are now on the
treadmill, and the well-paid Whigs are riding in chariots: with many
faces, however, looking out of the windows (including that of our
Prime Minister[132]), which I never remember to have seen in the days
of the poverty and depression of Whiggism. Liberality is now a
lucrative business. Whoever has any institution to destroy, may
consider himself as a Commissioner, and his fortune as made; and, to
my utter and never-ending astonishment, I, an old Edinburgh Reviewer,
find myself fighting, in the year 1839, against the Archbishop of
Canterbury and the Bishop of London, for the existence of the National
Church."

Some of the reprinted articles would be fairly ranked in the present day under the derogatory title of "Pot-boilers"; but others are among the most effective and entertaining pieces which the author ever penned. Some of these must be specified. There is the extraordinarily amusing, but quite unjust, attack on Methodism, under which convenient heading are grouped "the sentiments of Arminian and Calvinistic Methodists, and of the Evangelical clergymen of the Church of England." The fun in this article is chiefly gleaned from the pages of the _Evangelical Magazine_ and the _Methodist Magazine_. Here we have the affecting story of the young man who swore, and was stung by a bee "on the tip of the unruly member," "one of the meanest of creatures" being thus employed "to reprove the bold transgressor." Not less moving are the reflections of the religious observer who saw a man driving clumsily in a gig.--"'What (I said to myself) if a single untoward circumstance should happen! Should the horse take fright, or the wheel on either side get entangled, or the gig upset,--in either case what can preserve them? And should a morning so fair and promising bring on evil before night,--should _death on his pale horse_ appear,--what follows?' My mind shuddered at the images I had raised."

Very curious too is the case of the people who, desiring to go by sea to Margate, found the cabin occupied by a "mixed multitude who spoke almost all languages but that of Canaan"; and started a weekly hoy on which "no profane conversation was allowed." The advertisements are as quaint as the correspondence.--

"'Wanted, a man of serious character, who can shave.'
'Wanted, a serious young woman, as servant of all work.'
'Wants a place, a young man who has brewed in a serious family.'"

On these eccentricities of mistaken devotion, Sydney pounces with delighted malice; and his jokes, acrid as they are, seem to be the vehicles of a real conviction. He honestly believed that "enthusiasm" in religion tended to hysteria and insanity; that it sapped plain morality; and turned the simple poor into "active and mysterious fools." Something, he thought, "in the way of ridicule," might be done towards checking Methodism, and to that task he addressed himself with hearty goodwill.

Equally unfair, and equally insensible to all the appeals of religious fervour, is the article on Indian Missions, for which, fifty years after, Archbishop Tait found it hard to forgive him.[133] Here again the artificial quaintness of religious phrase and thought gave him the necessary material for his fun. As he had found delight in the proper names of Methodist ministers--Shufflebottom and Ringletub[134]--so he delighted in lampooning "Ram Boshoo," and "Buxoo a brother," and "the Catechist of Collesigrapatuam." The saintly and scholarly Carey[135] ought to have been safe from his attacks, but the Baptist Missionary Society rather invited ridicule.--

"Brother Carey, while very sea-sick, and leaning over the ship to
relieve his stomach from that very oppressive complaint, said his mind
was even then filled with consolation in contemplating the wonderful
goodness of God."

And Brother Carey's own journal was calculated to raise a smile.--

"_1793. June 30. Lord's-day_. A pleasant and profitable day: our
congregation composed of ten persons."

"_July 7_. Another pleasant and profitable Lord's-day: our
congregation increased with one. Had much sweet enjoyment with God."

"_1794. Jan, 26. Lord's-day_. Found much pleasure in reading Edwards's
_Sermon on the Justice of God in the Damnation of Sinners_."

"_April 6_. Had some sweetness to-day, especially in reading Edwards's
Sermon."

"_.1796. Feb. 6_. I am now in my study; and oh, it is a sweet place,
because of the presence of God with the vilest of men. It is at the
top of the house; I have but one window in it."

In reply to Jeffrey, who as Editor of the _Edinburgh Review_ rebuked his contributor for "levity of quotations," Sydney Smith wrote in 1808:--

"I do not understand what you mean. I attack these men because they
have foolish notions of religion. The more absurd the passage, the
more necessary it should be displayed--the more urgent the reason for
making the attack at all."

This is at any rate an explanation, even if it does not amount to a justification; but what is lamentable is that, as in the case of the Methodists at home, he seems frankly unable to conceive of the passion for spreading the Gospel which drove men from all that is enjoyable in life to slave and die under Indian suns. He seems genuinely to believe that the spread of the Christian religion in India will produce a revolution, and he turns the ludicrous blunders of religious men into arguments for slothfulness in evangelization.--

"If there were a fair prospect of carrying the Gospel into regions
where it was before unknown,--if such a project did not expose the
best possessions of the country to extreme danger, and if it was in
the hands of men who were discreet as well as devout, we should
consider it to be a scheme of true piety, benevolence, and wisdom: but
the baseness and malignity of fanaticism shall never prevent us from
attacking its arrogance, its ignorance, and its activity. For what
vice can be more tremendous than that which, while it wears the
outward appearance of religion, destroys the happiness of man, and
dishonours the name of God?"

In the second article on Methodism, he returns, as his manner was, to the ground formerly traversed, and claims the praise of all reasonable men for his previous strictures.--

"In routing out a nest of consecrated cobblers, and in bringing to
light such a perilous heap of trash as we were obliged to work
through, in our articles upon the Methodists and Missionaries, we are
generally conceived to have rendered an useful service to the cause of
rational religion."

But he had been rebuked by the admirers of the Cobblers, and now he turns upon his rebukers with characteristic vigour. Prominent among these was the Rev. John Styles, and Mr. Styles, unhappily for his cause and happily for his opponent, made a grotesque slip which Sydney turned to the best advantage.--

"In speaking of the cruelties which their religion entails upon the
Hindoos, Mr. Styles is peculiarly severe upon us for not being more
shocked at their piercing their limbs with _kimes_. This is rather an
unfair mode of alarming his readers with the idea of some unknown
instrument. He represents himself as having paid considerable
attention to the manners and customs of the Hindoos; and, therefore,
the peculiar stress he lays upon this instrument is naturally
calculated to produce, in the minds of the humane, a great degree of
mysterious terror. A drawing of the _kime_ was imperiously called for;
and the want of it is a subtle evasion, for which Mr. Styles is fairly
accountable. As he has been silent on this subject, it is for us to
explain the plan and nature of this terrible and unknown piece of
mechanism. _Kimes_, then, are neither more nor less than a false print
in the _Edinburgh Review_ for _knives_; and from this blunder of the
printer has Mr. Styles manufactured this Dædalean instrument of
torture, called a _kime_! We were at first nearly persuaded by his
argument against _kimes_; we grew frightened;--we stated to ourselves
the horror of not sending missionaries to a nation which used
_kimes_;--we were struck with the nice and accurate information of the
Tabernacle upon this important subject:--but we looked in the errata,
and found Mr. Styles to be always Mr. Styles--always cut off from
every hope of mercy, and remaining for ever himself."

At the end of the article, the writer glories in the fact that the Government of India is beginning to harry the missionaries.--

"The Board of Control (all Atheists, and disciples of Voltaire, of
course) are so entirely of our way of thinking, that the most
peremptory orders have been issued to send all the missionaries home
upon the slightest appearance of disturbance. Those who have sons and
brothers in India may now sleep in peace. Upon the transmission of
this order, Mr. Styles is said to have destroyed himself with a
_kime_."

The same vigorous dislike to the Evangelical way of religion animates the article on Hannah More; and here again the criticized writer gave the critic just the handle which he required.

"We observe that Mrs. More, in one part of her work, falls into the
common error about dress. She first blames ladies for exposing their
persons in the present style of dress, and then says, if they knew
their own interest--if they were aware how much more alluring they
were to men when their charms are less displayed, they would make the
desired alteration from motives merely selfish.

"'Oh! if women in general knew what was their real interest, if they
could guess with what a charm even the _appearance_ of modesty invests
its possessor, they would dress decorously from mere self-love, if not
from principle. The designing would assume modesty as an artifice; the
coquette would adopt it as an allurement; the pure as her appropriate
attraction; and the voluptuous as the most infallible art of
seduction.'

"If there is any truth in this passage, nudity becomes a virtue; and
no decent woman, for the future, can be seen in garments."

That is aptly said; but it is a relief to turn from Sydney Smith the Philistine--the bigoted and rather brutal opponent of enthusiastic religion, to Sydney Smith the Philanthropist--the passionate advocate of humanitarian reform born at least fifty years before his time. Excellent illustrations of this aspect of his character are to be found in "Mad Quakers," with its study of the improved methods of treating lunacy; "Chimney-Sweepers," "Game-Laws," "Spring-Guns," "Prisons," and "Counsel for Prisoners." Each of these essays shows a deliriously warm sympathy with the sufferings of the downtrodden and the friendless; and a curiously intimate knowledge of matters which lie quite outside the scope of a clergyman's ordinary duties. As an appreciation of character, friendly but not servile, nothing can be better than his paper on Sir James Mackintosh,[136] with the illustration from Curran, and the noble image (which the writer himself admired) of the man-of-war. Writing to Sir James's son, Sydney Smith says:--

"Curran, the Master of the Rolls, said to Mr. Grattan, 'You would be
the greatest man of your age, Grattan, if you would buy a few yards of
red tape, and tie up your bills and papers.' This was the fault or the
misfortune of your excellent father; he never knew the use of red
tape, and was utterly unfit for the common business of life. That a
guinea represented a quantity of shillings, and that it would barter
for a quantity of cloth, he was well aware; but the accurate number of
the baser coin, or the just measurement of the manufactured article,
to which he was entitled for his gold, he could never learn, and it
was impossible to teach him. Hence his life was often an example of
the ancient and melancholy struggle of genius with the difficulties of
existence.

* * * * *

"A high merit in Sir James Mackintosh was his real and unaffected
philanthropy. He did not make the improvement of the great mass of
mankind an engine of popularity, and a stepping-stone to power, but he
had a genuine love of human happiness. Whatever might assuage the
angry passions, and arrange the conflicting interests of nations;
whatever could promote peace, increase knowledge, extend commerce,
diminish crime, and encourage industry; whatever could exalt human
character, and could enlarge human understanding, struck at once at
the heart of your father, and roused all his faculties. I have seen
him in a moment when this spirit came upon him--like a great ship of
war--cut his cable, and spread his enormous canvass, and launch into a
wide sea of reasoning eloquence."

For pure fun, one could not quote a better sample than the review of Waterton's[137] _Travels in South America_.--

"Snakes are certainly an annoyance; but the snake, though
high-spirited, is not quarrelsome; he considers his fangs to be given
for defence, and not for annoyance, and never inflicts a wound but to
defend existence. If you tread upon him, he puts you to death for your
clumsiness, merely because he does not understand what your clumsiness
means; and certainly a snake, who feels fourteen or fifteen stone
stamping upon his tail, has little time for reflection, and may be
allowed to be poisonous and peevish. American tigers generally run
away--from which several respectable gentlemen in Parliament inferred,
in the American war, that American soldiers would run away also!

"The description of the birds is very animated and interesting; but
how far does the gentle reader imagine the Campanero may be heard,
whose size is that of a jay? Perhaps 300 yards. Poor innocent,
ignorant reader! unconscious of what Nature has done in the forests of
Cayenne, and measuring the force of tropical intonation by the sounds
of a Scotch duck! The Campanero may be heard three miles!--this single
little bird being more powerful than the belfry of a cathedral,
ringing for a new dean--just appointed on account of shabby politics,
small understanding, and good family!... It is impossible to
contradict a gentleman who has been in the forests of Cayenne; but we
are determined, as soon as a Campanero is brought to England, to make
him toll in a public place, and have the distance measured.

"The Toucan has an enormous bill, makes a noise like a puppy dog, and
lays his eggs in hollow trees. How astonishing are the freaks and
fancies of nature! To what purpose, we say, is a bird placed in the
woods of Cayenne with a bill a yard long, making a noise like a puppy
dog, and laying eggs in hollow trees? The Toucans, to be sure, might
retort, to what purpose were gentlemen in Bond Street created? To what
purpose were certain foolish prating Members of Parliament
created?--pestering the House of Commons with their ignorance and
folly, and impeding the business of the country? There is no end of
such questions. So we will not enter into the metaphysics of the
Toucan.

"The Sloth, in its wild state, spends its life in trees, and never
leaves them but from force or accident. The eagle to the sky, the mole
to the ground, the sloth to the tree; but what is most extraordinary,
he lives not _upon_ the branches, but _under_ them. He moves
suspended, rests suspended, sleeps suspended, and passes his life in
suspense--like a young clergyman distantly related to a bishop.

* * * * *

"Just before his third journey, Mr. Waterton takes leave of Sir Joseph
Banks,[138] and speaks of him with affectionate regret. 'I saw' (says
Mr. W.) 'with sorrow, that death was going to rob us of him. We talked
of stuffing quadrupeds; I agreed that the lips and nose ought to be
cut off, and stuffed with wax.' This is the way great naturalists take
an eternal farewell of each other!

* * * * *

"Insects are the curse of tropical climates. The bête rouge lays the
foundation of a tremendous ulcer. In a moment you are covered with
ticks. Chigoes bury themselves in your flesh, and hatch a large colony
of young chigoes in a few hours. They will not live together, but
every chigoe sets up a separate ulcer, and has his own private portion
of pus. Flies get entry into your mouth, into your eyes, into your
nose; you eat flies, drink flies, and breathe flies. Lizards,
cockroaches, and snakes, got into the bed; ants eat up the books;
scorpions sting you on the foot. Every thing bites, stings, or
bruises; every second of your existence you are wounded by some piece
of animal life that nobody has over seen before, except Swammerdam and
Meriam. An insect with eleven legs is swimming in your teacup, a
nondescript with nine wings is struggling in the small beer, or a
caterpillar with several dozen eyes in his belly is hastening over the
bread and butter! All nature is alive, and seems to be gathering all
her entomological hosts to eat you up, as you are standing, out of
your coat, waistcoat, and breeches. Such are the tropics. All this
reconciles us to our dews, fogs, vapours, and drizzle--to our
apothecaries rushing about with gargles and tinctures--to our old,
British, constitutional coughs, sore throats, and swelled faces."

Space should be found, in even the shortest book on Sydney Smith, for two passages in which, perhaps more effectively than anywhere else, he clinched an argument with a masterpiece of fun. The first is the warning to the United States against the love of military glory. The second is the wonderful concatenation of fallacies in "Noodle's Oration."[139] Both these pieces will he found in Appendix B.

In 1840 he wrote to a friend:--

"I printed my reviews to show, if I could, that I had not passed my
life merely in making jokes; but that I had made use of what little
powers of pleasantry I might be endowed with, to discountenance bad,
and to encourage liberal and wise principles."

The natural and becoming indolence of age was now beginning to show itself in Sydney Smith. He had worked harder than most men in his day, and now he wisely cultivated ease. In his comfortable house in Green Street, he received his friends with what he himself so excellently called "that honest joy which warms more than dinner or wine"; but he went less than of old into general society. Least of all was he inclined to that most melancholy of all exertions which consists in rushing about to entertainments which do not amuse. In 1840 he wrote, in answering an invitation to the Opera:--

"Thy servant is threescore-and-ten years old; can he hear the sound of
singing men and singing women? A Canon at the Opera! Where have you
lived? In what habitations of the heathen? I thank you, shuddering."

Although the Canon would not go to the Opera, his general faculty of enjoyment was unimpaired, and, as always, he loved a gibe at the clergy. On the 30th of November 1841, Samuel Wilberforce wrote to a friend about George Augustus Selwyn,[140] Missionary Bishop of New Zealand:--

"Selwyn is just setting out. Sydney Smith says it will make quite a
revolution in the dinners of New Zealand. _Tête d'Évêque_ will be the
most _recherché_ dish, and the servant will add, 'And there is _cold
clergyman_ on the side-table.'"

But this is Sydney's own version of the joke:--

"The advice I sent to the Bishop of New Zealand, when he had to
receive the cannibal chiefs there, was to say to them, 'I deeply
regret, sirs, to have nothing on my own table suited to your tastes,
but you will find plenty of cold curate and roasted clergyman on the
sideboard'; and if, in spite of this prudent provision, his visitors
should end their repast by eating him likewise, why, I could only add,
'I sincerely hoped he would disagree with them.'"

In spite of increasing years and decreasing health--"I have," he said, "seven distinct diseases, but am otherwise pretty well"--the indefatigable pamphleteer had not yet done with controversy. In 1842 he published three Letters on the Mismanagement of Railways,[141] and in 1843 two on a tendency displayed by the "drab-coloured men of Pennsylvania" to repudiate the interest on their State's bonds. On the 18th of December 1843 he wrote:--

"My bomb has fallen very successfully in America, and the list of
killed and wounded is extensive. I have several quires of paper sent
me every day, calling me monster, thief, atheist, deist, etc."

"I receive presents of cheese and apples from Americans who are
advocates for paying debts, and very abusive letters in print and in
manuscript from those who are not."

All this time, in spite of continual discomfort from gout and asthma, he kept up his merry interest in his friends' concerns, his enjoyment of good company, and his kindness to young people. Here is a charming letter, written in September 1843 to his special favourite, Miss Georgiana Harcourt,[142] daughter of the Archbishop of York:--

"I suppose you will soon be at Bishopthorpe, surrounded by the Sons of
the Prophets. What a charming existence, to live in the midst of holy
people; to know that nothing profane can approach you; to be certain
that a Dissenter can no more be found in the Palace than a snake in
Ireland, or ripe fruit in Scotland; to have your society strong, and
undiluted by the laity; to bid adieu to human learning, to feast on
the Canons, and revel in the XXXIX. Articles. Happy Georgiana!"

At the beginning of 1844 he wrote, "I am tolerably well, but intolerably old." He complained of "nothing but weakness, and loss of nervous energy." "I look as strong as a cart-horse, but cannot get round the garden without resting once or twice," Soon he was back again at St. Paul's, preaching a sermon on Peace, and rebuking the "excessive proneness to War." "I shall try the same subject again--a subject utterly untouched by the clergy."[143] The summer passed in its usual occupations, and on the 28th of July he preached for the last time in the pulpit of the Cathedral. His subject was the right use of Sunday; and the sermon was a strong protest against the increasing secularization of the holy day. The best ways of employing Sunday, he said, were Worship, Self-Examination, and Preparation for Death. The sermon ended with some words which indicate the sense of impending change:--

"I never take leave of any one, for any length of time, without a deep
impression upon my mind of the uncertainty of human life, and the
probability that we may meet no more in this world."[144]

He now left London for Combe Florey. "I dine with the rich in London, and physic the poor in the country; passing from the sauces of Dives to the sores of Lazarus." His bodily discomforts increased, but his love of fun never diminished. He wrote as merrily as ever to Miss Harcourt:--

"Neither of us, dear Georgiana, would consent to survive the ruin of
the Church. You would plunge a poisoned pin into your heart, and I
should swallow the leaf of a sermon dipped in hydro-cyanic acid."

In October, after an alarming attack of breathlessness and giddiness, he returned to London. In Green Street he was happy in the proximity and skill of his son-in-law, Dr. Holland, and "a suite of rooms perfectly fitted up for illness and death." This phrase occurs in the last of his published letters, dated the 7th of November 1844. It was now pronounced that his disease was water on the chest, caused by an unsuspected affection of the heart. He was entirely confined to his bed, perfectly aware of his condition, and keenly grateful for the kindness and sympathy of friends. His daughter writes:--

"My father died at peace with himself and with all the world; anxious, to the last, to promote the comfort and happiness of others. He sent messages of kindness and forgiveness to the few he thought had injured him. Almost his last act was, bestowing a small living of £120 per annum on a poor, worthy, and friendless clergyman, who had lived a long life of struggle with poverty on £40 per annum. Full of happiness and gratitude, the clergyman entreated he might be allowed to see my father; but the latter so dreaded any agitation that he most unwillingly consented, saying, 'Then he must not thank me; I am too weak to bear it.' He entered,--my father gave him a few words of advice,--the clergyman silently pressed his hand, and blessed his death-bed. Surely such blessings are not given in vain!"

Sydney Smith died on the 22nd of February 1845, and was buried by the side of his son Douglas in the Cemetery at Kensal Green.

[107] R.A. Kinglake, quoted by Mr. Stuart Reid.

[108] The Beer-house Act, 1830, allowed any one to retail beer, on merely
taking out an excise-licence.

[109] Frances Talbot, wife of John, 1st Earl of Morley.

[110] As a matter of fact he lived at 33 Charles Street, and subsequently
at 56 Green Street.

[111] This intention gave rise to the "Oxford Movement." Keble thought that
the time had come when "scoundrels must be called scoundrels." His
Sermon on "National Apostasy" was preached on the 14th of July 1833.

[112] Henry Hart Milman (1791-1868).

[113] Born Sarah Taylor (1793-1867).

[114] At that period there were no sermons under the Dome

[115] In 1825, after a visit to Lord Essex at Cassiobury, he noted with
disapproval--"No hot luncheons."

[116] (1798-1869), created Lord Taunton in 1859.

[117] This is interesting as being, so far as I know, Sydney Smith's only
reference to Lord Beaconsfield.

[118] Gladstone's _Gleanings_, vol. vii. p. 220.

[119] Thomas Singleton (1783-1842), Canon of Worcester and Archdeacon of
Northumberland.

[120] It is sometimes forgotten that a Prebend is a thing; a Prebendary a
person.

[121] Compare his letter to Lady Holland, May 14, 1835;--"Liberals of the
eleventh hour abound! and there are some of the first hour, of whose
work in the toil and heat of the day I have no recollection!"

[122] John Wilson Croker (1780-1857), M.P. and Tory pamphleteer.

[123] Samuel Lee (1783-1852).

[124] Charles Richard Sumner (1790-1874).

[125] On the 13th of January 1838, he wrote to the Bishop of London--"I
think the best reason for destroying the Cathedrals is the abominable
trash and nonsense they have all published since the beginning of this
dispute."

[126] Lord John Russell.

[127] Thomas Noon Talfourd (1795-1854), Judge and Dramatist.

[128] James Henry Monk (1784-1856).

[129] William FitzHardinge Berkeley (1786-1857) was created Lord Segrave of
Berkeley Castle in 1831, and Earl FitzHardinge in 1841.

[130] "You see my younger brother, Courtenay, is turned out of office in
India, for refusing the surety of the East India Company! Truly the
Smiths are a stiff-necked generation, and yet they have all got rich
but I. Courtenay, they say, has £150,000, and he keeps only a cat! In
the last letter I had from him, which was in 1802, he confessed that
his money was gathering very fast." (S.S. 1827).

[131] (1794-1871), Banker, Historian, and Politician.

[132] William, Viscount Melbourne (1779-1848).

[133] "Have you read Sydney Smith's Life? There is a strange mixture in his
character of earnest common-sense and fun. On the whole, I think he
will be thought more highly of in consequence of the publication of
the Life, though it may be doubted whether his religion was not
injured by his strong sense of the ludicrous. I cannot forgive him for
his anti-missionary articles in the _Edinburgh Review_."--_Life of
Archbishop Tait_, vol. I. chapter xiii.

What seems to be his later and juster judgment on missionary work is
given, without date, by Lady Holland. "Some one, speaking of Missions,
ridiculed them as inefficient. He dissented, saying, that though all
was not done that was projected, or even boasted of, yet that much
good resulted; and that wherever Christianity was taught, it brought
with it the additional good of civilization in its train, and men
became better carpenters, better cultivators, better everything."

[134] "It is immaterial whether Mr. Shufflebottom preaches at Bungay, and
Mr. Ringletub at Ipswich; or whether an artful vicissitude is adopted,
and the order of insane predication reversed."

[135] William Carey (1761-1834), Shoemaker, Orientalist, and Missionary.

[136] (1765-1832), Historian and Philosopher.

[137] Charles Waterton (1782-1865), Naturalist.

[138] (1748-1820.)

[139] It is possible that the argument about the Wisdom of our Ancestors in
"Noodle's Oration" may have been suggested by the following extract
from the Parliamentary Debates for May 26, 1797. On Mr. Grey's Motion
for a Reform of Parliament, Sir Gregory Page-Turner, M.P., spoke as
follows--"He craved the indulgence of the House for a few observations
which he had to make. When he got up in the morning and when he lay
down at night, he always felt for the Constitution. On this question
he had never had but one opinion. When he came first into Parliament,
he remembered that the Chancellor of the Exchequer proposed a Reform,
but he saw it was wrong, and he opposed it. Would it not be madness to
change what had been handed, sound and entire, down from the days of
their fathers?"

[140] (1809-1878.)

[141] In these a special appeal is made to "our youthful Gladstone," then
recently appointed Vice-President of the Board of Trade.

[142] Afterwards Mrs. Malcolm: died in 1886.

[143] He said afterwards that this Sermon on Peace was really Channing's.

[144] Compare his letter on parting from his friends at Edinburgh, quoted
by Lady Holland:--"All adieus are melancholy; and principally, I
believe, because they put us in mind of the last of all adieus, when
the apothecary, and the heir-apparent, and the nurse who weeps for
pay, surround the bed; when the curate, engaged to dine three miles
off, mumbles hasty prayers; when the dim eye closes for ever in the
midst of empty pillboxes, gallipots, phials, and jugs of
barley-water."