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A Memoir of the Reverend Sydney Smith
Letters 1835
Sydney Smith to Sir Robert John Wilmot Horton, December 1835
INTRODUCTION & INDEXES
DOCUMENT INFORMATION
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Author's Preface
Contents
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Index
Editor’s Preface
Letters 1801
Letters 1802
Letters 1803
Letters 1804
Letters 1805
Letters 1806
Letters 1807
Letters 1808
Letters 1809
Letters 1810
Letters 1811
Letters 1812
Letters 1813
Letters 1814
Letters 1815
Letters 1816
Letters 1817
Letters 1818
Letters 1819
Letters 1820
Letters 1821
Letters 1822
Letters 1823
Letters 1824
Letters 1825
Letters 1826
Letters 1827
Letters 1828
Letters 1829
Letters 1830
Letters 1831
Letters 1832
Letters 1833
Letters 1834
Letters 1835
Letters 1836
Letters 1837
Letters 1838
Letters 1839
Letters 1840
Letters 1841
Letters 1842
Letters 1843
Letters 1844
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December, 1835.
Dear Wilmot Horton,

I have been to Paris with Mrs. Sydney, and Mr. and Mrs. Hibbert. We saw all the cockney sights, and dined at all the usual restaurants, and vomited as usual into the channel which divides Albion from Gallia. Rivers are said to run blood after an engagement; the Channel is discoloured, I am sure, in a less elegant and less pernicious way by English tourists going and coming. The King unpopular, beginning to do unwise things, which surprise the moderate Liberals; but the predominant feeling in France is a love of quiet, and a horror of improvements.

The manufactures of England are flourishing beyond example; there is no other distress but agricultural distress. Every hour that the Ministers stay in they are increasing their strength by the patronage which falls in. I think they will last over next session, and beyond that it would be rash to venture a predic-
382MEMOIR OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH.
tion. I agree with them in everything they are doing. I think there never was such an Administration in this country. This, you will say, is the language of a person (or parson) who wants a bishopric; but, nolo episcopari. I dread the pomp, trifles, garments, and ruinous expense of the episcopal life; and this is lucky, as I have not the smallest reason for believing that any one has the most remote intention of putting the mitre on my head.

Our friend Frankland Lewis is gaining great and deserved reputation by his administration of the Poor Laws,—one of the best and boldest measures which ever emanated from any Government.

I hope you have read Mackintosh’s Life, and that you like it. I think it a delightful book, and such is the judgment of the public. Where are there more important opinions on men, books, and events? They talk of a new edition, and another volume.

—— holds out, but is all claret, gravy, and puff-paste. I don’t think there is an ounce of flesh and blood in his composition. Adieu, dear Horton! come back, my love, to my Lady. Ever yours,

Sydney Smith.