THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. WITH A PORTRAIT. THE subject of this memoir-whose death we record with the most unfeigned sorrow-will henceforth be ranked among the eminent writers of England, side by side with De Foe, Swift, Steele, and Addison; by none of whom, perhaps, was he excelled in the homely vigour of his language, the weight of his well-directed sarcasm, the cheerful buoyancy of his imagination, and the brilliant refinement of his wit-which flashed both to dazzle and to scathe. Endowed with a large share of natural good sense, and a shrewd and penetrating understanding, that could look beneath the surface of men and things, improved by a careful education, diligent study for many years, and close intimacy with the best writings of ancient and modern times ;-and possessing a heart capable of the warmest and most generous emotions, he expressed his thoughts in rich and racy Saxon, the clearness, the chasteness, and the energy of which silence and confound the gainsayer, carry conviction to the judgment, and at once strike home to the heart. Sydney Smith was a thorough Englishman. He loved old England well; and, saving his cloth, would have fought for her had it been necessary. He had no small share of the John Bull spiritmanly independence-strong convictions, clear views, and unswerving integrity. He seized a subject with a tenacious grasp, examined it with steadiness, caution, and deliberation; and, with a force and decision of character, which have left their impress on the times in which he lived, formed decided opinions without reference to the prevailing prejudices or current fallacies of the day. He was not time-serving, or servile, or venal, or self-seeking. His pen was never employed but on the side of what he believed to be truth and justice: he hated oppression, and always protested against wrong. He was a decided politician, and yet was free from the virulence, the biases, and the narrow prepossessions of party men. Viewing his whole public career-which extended over a space of fifty yearswe see much to admire, much to applaud, much to love the man for -and but little, comparatively speaking, very little to censure. But Sydney Smith enjoyed a double reputation. Not only was he acknowledged by Europe and America to be a terse, logical, and sparkling writer, who at one time could use the polished rapier of the dexterous swordsman, and at another wield a heavy mace,now despatching an antagonist with a cut and thrust-anon smashing an opponent to atoms; but he was accomplished in those conversational arts which impart such a charm to society-he was a wit of the first water-a diner-out of the highest lustre a boon companion, whose flashes of merriment were wont to set the table in a roar. Byron terms him that "mad wag, the Rev. Sydney Smith." Southey, with a little malevolence, calls him "Joke Smith." The witticisms of the lamented deceased would indeed, if collected, fill “That mad wag, the Reverend Sydney Smith, sitting by a brother clergyman at dinner, observed afterwards that his dull neighbour had a twelve-parson power of conversation. A metaphor borrowed from the forty-horse power of a steamengine." +Vide The Doctor." a volume that would excel the most sparkling bons mots of Sheridan and Theodore Hook; but in the biting jests of the humorous canon there was always a happy blending of wit and wisdom. O rare Sydney!-of whom can we say, with so much truth, in the words of Sir Nathaniel in "Love's Labour Lost"-"Your reasons at DINNER have been sharp and sententious, pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, audacious without impudency, learned without opinion, and strange without heresy.” But how often was the pun the preface to some important truth-the jest a prelude to a blow. How frequently has he overwhelmed the public delinquent with laughter! His motto through life appears to have been, "Ridentem dicere verum Quid vetat ?" "May not truth in laughing guise be drest ?" The portrait which accompanies this paper represents the Rector of Foston in the prime of life. It is copied from a very spirited likeness, beaming with intelligence and intellectual energy, which appeared in the British Portrait Gallery,* "Wherein the graver had a strife With Nature, to out-do the life." The portrait published with his collected works, represents the reverend author in his later years. It is considered to be rather a good likeness, but it seems to us deficient in spirit and character. He was himself fond of making merry with his person-which was not slim. He introduces to us, now and then, a canon of large proportions," just as Swift used to speak of himself: "The priest was pretty well in case, Loves mischief better than his meat.' Some caricatures of the Rev. Sydney Smith have made their appearance; they exaggerate his corpulency, and represent him as "" a round man of no ordinary girth, with a sly twitch in his nose, a wit emunctæ naris. These, however, are mere extravaganzas. Our author was the son of a gentleman of small landed property at Lydiard, near Taunton, Somersetshire, and was the brother of the late Robert Smith,† Esq., of Saville Row, London-father of the Right Hon. Robert Vernon Smith, M.P., for Northampton. Sydney was * Published in folio, by Messrs. Cadell and Co., in 1822. + But a fortnight after the death of the Rev. Sydney Smith, his elder and much-loved brother, Robert Smith, Esq., died at his residence in London, Robert Smith was born in 1770. He was educated at Eton, where he was the associate of Canning, Lord Holland, &c. He was a contributor to the Microcosm, and was distinguished for his classical performances. Mr. Robert Smith was called to the bar, and was for nine years Advocate-General at Bengal. On his return from India he entered the House of Commons as member for Lincoln, and continued in Parliament till 1826. Among his intimate friends were Sir James Mackintosh and Madame de Staël; and, though he did not possess the literary talents of his gifted brother, he was accounted one of the remarkable men of the born at the beautiful village of Woodford in Essex, about eight miles from London, on the confines of Epping Forest, and on the main road from London to Newmarket, in the year A.D. 1771; consequently, he was seventy-four years old when he died. We know little of his boyhood. It was spent amid those rural scenes which he afterwards knew how to depict with so much freshness and truth. At an early age he was sent to Winchester College, founded in 1387 by William of Wykeham, which has long held a pre-eminent rank among the public schools of England; and which was designed by its founder as a preparatory seminary for his foundation of New College, Oxford. Sydney Smith was not the first distinguished man educated at Winchester College. The poets Otway, Philips, Young, Somerville, Pitt, Collins, Wharton, and Hayley, also received their education there. From this school Mr. Smith was, in 1780, elected to New College, Oxford. He says, in one of his cathedral letters :"I was at school and college with the Archbishop of Canterbury ; fifty-three years ago he knocked me down with a chess-board for check-mating him, and he is now attempting to take away my patronage. I believe these are the only two acts of violence he ever committed in his life: the interval has been one of gentleness, kindness, and the most amiable and high-principled courtesy to his clergy." In 1790 Mr. Smith became a fellow, and held his fellowship till his marriage in 1800. In 1796 he took his degree of M.A., and about the same period took the curacy of Nether-Avon, near Amesbury, a town about seven miles and a half from Salisbury. Amesbury is situated on the classic river Avon, and was the birthplace of Addison, whose fame, as an essayist, Sydney was destined to emulate. After residing at Nether-Avon for about two years, Mr. Smith went to Edinburgh for the purpose of educating the son of Hicks Beach, Esq., M.P. for Cirencester, who, as Sydney himself informs us," took a fancy to him." Mr. Beach was a disciple of Charles James Fox, and it is not improbable that Mr. Smith's intimacy with this gentleman contributed in some measure to form those opinions in politics to which he adhered all his life, and to attach him to that party of which he was always considered a member. In time. The following Latin inscription was written by the celebrated Dr. Parr with a presentation copy of a book :— ROBERTO SMITH, A.M. Coll. Regali in Academia Cantabrigiens Juris consulto de plurimis Ob multam et exquisitam ejus doctrinam Ob sententias in versibus Latine Et in maximis negotiis procurandis Hunc librum D. D. Samuel Parr VOL. XVII. EE Edinburgh Sydney Smith became acquainted with Lord Jeffrey, Lord Murray, and Lord Brougham, all entertaining strong liberal opinions. He proposed to these gentlemen that they should "set up a Review:" the proposition was acceded to with acclamation, and, under the editorship of the Whig parson, the first number of the Edinburgh Review was ushered into the world. Its appearance created a great sensation, and the first number went through four editions. The editor's preface was exceedingly modest and unpretending; but the articles possessed merit and originality, which at once attracted attention. Sydney, in writing the preface to his works, in 1839, looked back with pardonable complacency to the origin of this important and eventful periodical. Adverting to the state of England, he says:-"The Catholics were not emancipated -the Corporation and Test Acts were unrepealed—the Game Laws were horribly oppressive-steel-traps and spring-guns were set all over the country-prisoners tried for their lives could have no counsel Lord Eldon and the Court of Chancery pressed heavily upon mankind-libel was punished by the most cruel and vindictive imprisonments-the principles of political economy were little understood-the law of debt and of conspiracy were upon the worst possible footing-the enormous wickedness of the slave-trade was tolerated a thousand evils were in existence, which the talents of good and able men have since lessened or removed. "From the beginning of this century to the death of Lord Liverpool, was an awful period for those who had the misfortune to entertain liberal opinions, and were too honest to sell them for the ermine of a judge, or the lawn of a prelate :-a long and hopeless career in your profession,-the chuckling grin of noodles,-the sarcastic leer of the genuine political rogue,-prebendaries, deans, and bishops, made over your head, reverend renegadoes advanced to the highest dignities of the Church, for helping to rivet the fetters of Catholic and Protestant Dissenters, and no more chance of a Whig administration than of a thaw in Zembla, these were the penalties exacted for liberality of opinion at that period; and not only was there no pay, but there were many stripes.” - The second article in the first number of the Edinburgh Review was by Smith. The subject was Dr. Parr; and the article opens with a humorous description of the doctor's wig," which, whilst it trespasses on the orthodox magnitude of perukes in the anterior parts, scorns even episcopal limits behind, and swells out into boundless convexity of frizz-the μɛya davμa of barbers, the terror of the literary world." In the review of Dr. Reynell, in the same number, he defends his own ideas on preaching :-and which he afterwards enforced in the preface to his sermons. "It is commonly answered to any animadversions upon the eloquence of the English pulpit, that a clergyman is to recommend himself not by his eloquence, but by the purity of his life, and the soundness of his doctrine; an objection good enough if any connection could be pointed out between eloquence, heresy, and dissipation; but, if it were possible for a man to live well, preach well, and teach well, at the same time, such objections, resting only upon a supposed incompatibility of these good qualities, are duller than the dullness they defend." Sydney Smith was a hearty hater of cant; and always entertained, to use his own words, "a passionate love for common justice and common sense." He entered with great spirit and success into the lists against "Methodism," which, in those days, was a straight-laced, morose, and repulsive system, that decried all pastimes, and proscribed all recreations, however innocent. "The methodists," he remarks, "hate pleasure and amusements; no theatre, no cards, no dancing, no punchinello, no dancing dogs, no blind fiddlers ;-all the amusements of the rich and the poor must disappear wherever these gloomy people get a footing. It is not the abuse of pleasure which they attack, but the interspersion of pleasure, however much it is guarded by good sense and moderation;-it is not only wicked to hear the licentious plays of Congreve, but wicked to hear " Henry the Fifth" or "The School for Scandal ;" it is not only dissipated to run about to all the parties in London and Edinburgh, but dancing is not fit for a being who is preparing himself for eternity. Ennui, wretchedness, melancholy, groans and sighs, are the offerings which these unhappy men make to a Deity who has covered the earth with gay colours, and scented it with rich perfumes; and shewn us, by the plan and order of his works, that he has given to man something better than a bare existence, and scattered over his creation a thousand superfluous joys which are totally unnecessary to the mere support of life." His writings against Methodism-under which term he comprehended all pious vulgarity and offensive puritanical customs-roused a host of enemies, who assailed the unknown reviewer with unmeasured virulence. He defended himself with great animation. "In spite of all misrepresentation, we have ever been and ever shall be the sincere friends of sober and rational Christianity. We are quite ready, if any fair opportunity occur, to defend it to the best of our ability from the tiger-spring of infidelity; and we are quite determined, if we can prevent such an evil, that it shall not be eaten up by the nasty and numerous vermin of Methodism." Again:-" σ the choice rested with us we should say, give us back our wolves again-restore our Danish invaders-curse us with any evil but the evil of a canting, deluded methodistical populace." A gentleman, who afterwards rendered himself somewhat notorious by preaching a sermon against Lord Byron-John Styles, D.D.—came forward to extinguish the assailant of Methodism. Unhappy man! insignis flebit. "It is not true," Sydney Smith replies, "it is not true, as this bad writer is perpetually saying, that the world hates piety. The modest and unobtrusive piety which fills the heart with all human charities, and makes a man gentle to others and severe to himself, is an object of universal love and veneration. But mankind hate the lust of power, when it is veiled under the garb of piety; they hate canting and hypocrisy; they hate advertisers and quacks in piety; they do not choose to be insulted; they love to tear folly and imprudence from the altar, which should only be a sanctuary for the wretched and the good." He then overwhelms his antagonist with ridicule, and despatches him with a broad grin. "We are a good deal amused, indeed, with the extreme disrelish which Mr. John Styles exhibits to the humour and pleasantry with which he admits the methodists to have been attacked; but Mr. John Styles should remember that it is not the practice with destroyers of vermin to allow the little victims a veto upon the |