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In 1803, the education of Mr. Sydney Smith’s pupils being finished, and his income in consequence much reduced, it became necessary for him to resolve upon some course of life which might secure to him a permanent independence.
He was most reluctant to quit Edinburgh, where he had many valuable friends and was much sought after; and where his name would have probably continued to procure him pupils.
My mother however was more ambitious for him than he was for himself; and
feeling that he was meant for better and higher things, and that his talents were
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On his first arrival there, he took a small house in Doughty-street, Russell-square, attracted thither by the legal society which then resided in that part of London, and of which he was always very fond.
This resolution to settle in London turned out the wisest he could have taken; yet, friendless as my father then was, and obnoxious to Government as he had become by his principles and writings, and without any obvious means of increasing his income, it was not carried through without considerable anxiety and a severe and courageous struggle with poverty; and, to add to his difficulties and anxieties, soon after his arrival in town his family was increased by the birth of his eldest son, Douglas.
My grandmother, Mrs. Pybus, whose
death had taken place shortly before my father quitted Edinburgh, had left my mother her
own and her eldest daughter’s (Lady
Fletcher’s) jewels, which were of some value. My mother, feeling that
such ornaments were most unbecoming in her present position, insisted upon their being sold
as soon as they came to London, and she
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Of the early part of his career in London I of course know nothing, and
recollect hearing but little. He early formed the acquaintance, and obtained the
friendship, of several eminent lawyers then living in that neighbourhood. The most
distinguished of these were Sir S. Romilly,
Mr. Scarlett (afterwards Lord
Abinger), and Sir J. Mackintosh. To
these may be added Dr. Marcet, M. Dumont, Mr.
Whishaw, Lord Dudley (then Mr.
Ward), Mr. Sharpe, Mr. Rogers, Mr.
Luttrell, and Mr. Tenant—who, under
the most uncouth appearance, combined such simplicity, warmth of heart, and varied
knowledge, as made him a general favourite in the little circle, and the mysteries of whose
menage often afforded amusement to his friends. He lived in a small lodging, and his
establishment consisted solely of an old black servant, who tyrannized over him in no small
degree, called Dominique. He was overheard one morning calling from
his bed, “Dominique!
Dominique!” but no Dominique appeared.
“Why don’t you bring me my stockings,
Dominique?” “Can’t come,
massa.” “Why can’t you come,
Dominique?” “Can’t come, massa, I am
dronke.” Mr. Tenant, who
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My father also became acquainted with some of the French emigrants, of whom there were many at this time resident in London and its neighbourhood; amongst these, some, from their cultivation and the refinement of their manners, became very agreeable additions to his society. Of these, I remember a M. Dutens,* and a charming old Abbé, who became quite one of the family. I can recall his pale, mild face, his thin figure, smart shoe-buckles, cane, and snuff-box, though I forget his name. He was bent on inventing a universal language; and used in his simplicity constantly to come and consult my father, who, much amused, suggested a few grammatical difficulties from time to time. The poor old Abbé, out of all patience, at last exclaimed, “Oh non, monsieur, ce sont la des bagatelles! La seule difficulté que je trouve c’est de faire agir tous les rois d’Europe au même instant.” My father admitted that this was a slight difficulty; but we left London, or the old Abbé left England, before he had solved it.
In the summer of 1804 the alarm occasioned by the idea of French invasion was rapidly increasing, and volunteers were pouring in from all ranks and classes. One of the earliest sermons my father seems to have been called upon to preach was on this subject, before a large body of volunteers collected in the Metropolis;
* Author of ‘Mémoires d’un Voyageur qui se repose.’ |
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A year or two after, he preached another sermon for the suffering Swiss.
About this time he made the acquaintance of Sir Thomas Barnard, who was so much struck with his sense and originality that he recommended him to the preachership of the Foundling Hospital, at £50 per annum, which employment, small as was the remuneration, was gladly accepted. Slight as this service was, and probably suggested more for the benefit of the Hospital than for that of my father, I must still feel grateful to one who thus held out a helping hand to a clever and friendless young man struggling with the difficulties of the world and eager to perform the duties of his profession; a kindness which was the more felt from the contrast it afforded to the impediments most unexpectedly thrown in his way about the same time by others.
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A chapel, then occupied by a sect of Dissenters calling themselves the New Jerusalem, and belonging to Mr. D——, was most kindly offered by him on lease to my father, if he could obtain the necessary license from the rector of the parish. His earnest and touching appeal to one he believed to be his friend, to grant this, and thus enable him to support his family and benefit the parish by his exertions in his profession, will be seen in the following letters; and with what result, and for what reasons rejected. I mention no names, as I wish to excite no angry feelings, and both men are now gone to a higher tribunal; but I cannot refrain from stating one of the many difficulties my father had to contend with.
“I am about to address myself to you upon a subject which very materially concerns my happiness and interest, and on which therefore I am sure you will consider, with as much disposition to befriend a brother clergyman as you can entertain consistently with your duty. Messrs. —— and Co. have agreed to let me a lease of the chapel in —— street: will you, under any restrictions, and upon any conditions, allow me to preach there?
“In the first place, I cannot doubt that where a place of
worship is to exist in your parish, you would rather that the worship of the
Church of England
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“It is, I admit, of great importance for you to consider
whether I am, or am not, such a person as you would wish to perform the duties
of a minister in your parish. This you can easily enough ascertain. I have
officiated nearly two years in Berkeley Chapel, where the Primate of Ireland, the Bishop of Lichfield, and Dr. Dutens have seats: of the two former
gentlemen I know nothing; with Dr. Dutens I am well
acquainted. If these three dignified and respectable clergymen have any
objection to make to my doctrines, I do not wish that the request I make to you
should be successful, and I am the first to withdraw it. But if they say of me
that my preaching commands attention, that I have any talent for enforcing
moral and religious truth, and that I may be beneficially entrusted with such
an office in any situation,—such testimony,
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“My pretensions however of this nature must of course be
judged by others. But of my situation in life (as I am the only judge of it) I
hope you will allow me to say a few words. I am a married man, with two
children, and as I am young my family may increase; I have a very small
fortune, no preferment, nor any friends who are likely to give me any. The
chapel where I preach at present will, I fancy, soon be sold; and it is not
impossible that the clergyman who can afford to purchase it may choose to
preach himself. It is not for want of exertion, my situation in the Church is
not better, for I have not been idle in the narrow and obscure field which is
open to the inferior clergy. I hope you will have the kindness to consider
these circumstances, before you refuse me the oppor-
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“A few years ago, my dear Sir, when your situation was what mine is, such considerations would have touched you, and you would have acknowledged their force. You know well the difficulties and the miseries of a curate’s life; and I am sure you are the last man in the world to forget them, merely because you have overcome them with so much honour and distinction. I am aware it will be necessary to apply to the patron of the living if your answer should be favourable to me, but I fancy it is regular to make the first application to you; and I rather write than call upon you, because I think it unfair, on such subjects, to take gentlemen by surprise, where sufficient leisure ought to be given for deliberation. In a week’s time I will call upon you for an answer; if you grant my request, T shall feel very grateful to you. I shall receive your answer with great anxiety, and am,
“If I do not hear from you to the contrary, I will call upon you after morning service on Sunday. I forgot to mention in my letter to you, that Mr. Barnard* gave me leave to make any use I please of his
* Afterwards Sir T. Barnard. |
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“Excuse the trouble I give you; but when a poor clergyman sees an honest and respectable method of improving his situation in life, you cannot wonder at his anxiety. You will make me a very happy man, if you consent to my request.
Dr. ——’s first answer is not given, as Mr. Smith’s next letter states its contents.
“The principal objection which your letter con-
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“You say, ‘I allow you have considerable talents
for preaching, I know you have been well educated, I
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“I appeal to you again, whether anything can be so enormous and unjust, as that that privilege should be denied to the ministers of the Church of England which every man who has folly and presumption enough to differ from it can immediately enjoy? I hope you will give these observations some consideration, and, as soon as you have, return me your answer upon them.
“You observe that what I ask is unnecessary, and that it is an innovation; but I sincerely hope you would not refuse me so great an advantage, unless it was pernicious as well as unnecessary; and that if the plan I suggest is an improvement, you will not reject it merely because it is an innovation.
“I thank you very kindly for all the good you say of me: I will endeavour to deserve it.
“I was in hopes I had so expressed myself in my letter of Wednesday, that you would have immediately seen my unwillingness to admit the arrangement you propose respecting this chapel; although at the same time I am sorry to be an obstacle in the way of your interest, I can only add, that the expediency of the measure having been considered by my predecessors, I mean to abide by their decision. I hope never to be offended, Sir, at the freedom of any who are so kind as to teach me to know myself; and the inconsistency of my letter to you, which you are so good as to point out, is, alas! an addition to the many inconsistencies of which I fear I have been too often guilty through life.
“You will, I daresay, be glad to hear that there exists a hope that, ere long, the dissenters from the Establishment will not enjoy greater privileges than the ministers of the Establishment themselves.
Thus, in spite of his most earnest endeavours to obtain employment, he
remained poor for many years; indeed it has often been an enigma to me how, in these early
days, my father contrived to meet the necessary expenses of settling in London; but I have
lately discovered, from an old memorandum, that during this early period his eldest brother
Robert kindly contributed £100 per annum for a
few years; and that in 1809, when all the expenses of his removal into Yorkshire took
place, he lent my father about
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I believe he had not been long in London before he became known, and his society sought after in various quarters. One of the earliest friendships he formed on coming there was that of Lord Holland, whose acquaintance he had previously made when on a visit to his eldest brother Robert, at college; and the subsequent marriage of this brother with Miss Vernon, Lord Holland’s aunt, perhaps the more inclined Lord Holland to cultivate one with whose merits he was then but slightly acquainted.
I have often heard my father speak of his first introduction to Holland House,—the most formidable ordeal, considering the talents of its host and hostess and the society always to be found there, that a young and obscure man could well go through. He was shy too then; but I believe, in spite of the shyness, they soon discovered and acknowledged his merits, and deemed him no unmeet company for their world—and what a world it was!
I can hardly write of my father, and not pause a moment to speak of that
society of which he afterwards so frequently formed a part, and to which he was bound
through life by every tie of social enjoyment, gratitude, and friendship. The world has
rarely seen, and will rarely, if ever, see again, all that was to be found within the walls
of Holland House. Genius and merit, in whatever rank of life, became a passport there, and
all that was choicest and rarest in Eur-
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Then the house itself,—a beautiful specimen of the olden times; with its ancient banqueting-hall, recalling traditions of past grandeur; and its noble library, full of the wisdom of ages, and hung round with the portraits of those who so often animated it with their presence, ought not to be forgotten.
How melancholy to feel that so many of those who, together with their much-loved host, acted so great a part in our own times, and have left names that will live long after them, are now gone.
My father found in Lord Holland one able
and willing to appreciate him, and whose society it was impossible to enjoy without loving
as well as admiring him; and they formed together one of those true friendships, so rare in
human life, “which, like the shadows of evening, increase even till the setting of
the sun.” I do not of course presume to speak of Lord
Holland but in reference to the charm of his intercourse with my father,
which I had such frequent opportunities of witnessing; and it always seemed to me on such
occasions that there never were two men who, from the constitution of their minds, were
more calculated to enjoy and understand each other’s character than Lord
Holland and Sydney Smith. The same
intense love of public liberty and public happiness, the same exquisite enjoyment of wit
and humour, the same clearness and conciseness of understanding, with great constitutional
gaiety of spirits, made their con-
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From the opportunities thus afforded my father of meeting at Holland House all the best Whig society, his acquaintance in London increased rapidly; and as he became generally known there, his company was eagerly sought for.
Meantime his reputation was spreading in other and better ways than by the
powers of his conversation alone. His negotiation to obtain a license from the clergyman of
the parish, to preach in the chapel then occupied by the sect of the New Jerusalem, failed,
as we have seen; but in addition to the evening preachership of the Foundling Hospital, he
had for two years, at the request of Mr. Bowerbank,
the proprietor of Berkeley Chapel, in John-street, Berkeley-square, officiated as the
morning preacher there. The chapel had been so deserted (though the position was very
advantageous), that Mr. Bowerbank had been for some time endeavouring
to dispose of it. In a few weeks after my father accepted it, not a seat was to be had:
gentlemen and ladies frequently stood in the aisles throughout the whole service. All idea
was then given up of disposing of it by the proprietor; and till my father left London, in
1809, he continued morning
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* My father had the satisfaction more than once of receiving letters of gratitude, assuring him that his preaching had not been in vain, and had stopped the writer in a course of guilt and dissipation. |
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In addition to his fame as a clergyman, he obtained considerable increase of reputation by a course of lectures on Moral Philosophy, which Sir Thomas Barnard, who interested himself much about the Royal Institution, proposed to him to give; and which, though my father speaks of them as without merit in one of his letters to his friend Dr. Whewell, afford, as I am told, the strongest evidence of the clearness of his intellect and the justness of his opinions. They gained so much at the time from the charm of his voice and manner of delivery, that the sensation they created in London is perhaps unexampled.
“You would be amused,” says his friend Mr. Horner, in his Letters, “to hear the account he gives of his own qualifications for the task, and his mode of manufacturing philosophy; he will do the thing very cleverly, I have little doubt.”*
“I was,” says Mrs. Marcet, “a perfect enthusiast
* An eye-witness says: “All Albemarle-street, and a part of Grafton-street, were rendered impassable by the concourse of carriages assembled there during the time of their delivery. There was not sufficient room for the persons assembling: the lobbies were filled, and the doors into them from the lecture-room were left open; |
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“I was present at the lectures forty years ago,” says the late Sir Robert Peel, “and was a very young man at the time; but I have not forgotten the effect which was given to the speech of Logan, the Indian Chief, by the tone and spirit in which it was recited.” . . . “I do not find,” he adds, “some verses I recollect to have been quoted by Mr. Sydney Smith, to which equal effect was given.”
These verses alluded to were a beautiful little song of Mrs. Opie’s, ‘Go, youth beloved, in distant glades:’ and she gives an amusing account, in a letter to my mother, of my father suddenly telling her, as she met him at the entrance of the lecture-room, that he was going to quote it. She describes the struggle between her timidity and her vanity, whether she should enter; and the new light in which both she and her poem
the steps leading into its area were all occupied; many persons, to obtain seats, came an hour before the time. The next year galleries were erected, which had never before been required, and the success was complete. He continued to lecture there for three consecutive years.” |
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Mr. Horner, in his Life, speaks of these Lectures, calling my father by the nom de guerre he had in their circle, of the Bishop of Mickleham,—the name of his friend Mr. Sharpe’s cottage in Surrey, where they often assembled.
“His Lordship’s success has been beyond all possible conjecture;—from six to eight hundred hearers, not a seat to be procured, even if you go there an hour before the time. Nobody else, to be sure, could have executed such an undertaking with the least chance of success. For who could make such a mixture of odd paradox, quaint fun, manly sense, liberal opinions, and striking language?”
They have, since my father’s death, thanks to my mother (who luckily preserved a considerable portion of them from the flames, to which he had as usual condemned them), been given to the public, which has confirmed this opinion of his friend Horner. Lord Jeffrey, to whom they were submitted in manuscript, had at first dissuaded their publication; but, on receiving a printed copy, with his usual candour and sweetness of disposition, he wrote to my mother, only three days before the fatal illness which terminated his noble life, the following letter:—
“I am now satisfied that, in what I then said, I did great and
grievous injustice to the merit of these lectures, and was quite wrong in dissuading
their publication, or concluding they would add nothing to the
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The following lines have been kindly sent me by Miss Berry’s executor, Sir Frankland Lewis, as found amongst her papers; and as Miss Berry, from her talents, beauty, high character, her friendship with Horace Walpole, her ninety years of life (thus as it were connecting two centuries), and the distinguished society always to be found in her house, almost belongs to history, she gives to these lines a value independent of their intrinsic merits.
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Lo! where the gaily-vestured throng,
Fair Learning’s train, are seen,
Wedged in close ranks her walls along,
And up her benches green!
Unfolded to their mental eye
Thy awful form, Sublimity,
The moral teacher shows;
Sublimity! of silence born,
And solitude, ’mid “caves forlorn,”
And dimly-vision’d woes,
Or steadfast worth that, inly great,
Mocks the malignity of fate.
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Whisper’d Pleasure’s dulcet sound
Murmurs the crowded room around,
And Wisdom, borne on Fashion’s pinion,
Exulting hails her new dominion.
Oh! both on me your influence shed;
Dwell in my heart, and deck my head!
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Where’er a broader, browner shade
The shaggy bearer throws,
And with the ample feather’s aid,
O’er-canopies the nose;
Where’er, with smooth and silken pile,
Lingering in solemn pause awhile,
The crimson velvet glows;
From some high bench’s giddy brink,
With me, my friend begins to think,
As bolt upright we sit,
That dress, like dogs, should have its day,
That beavers are too hot for May,
And velvets quite unfit.
Then Taste, in maxims sweet, I draw
From her unerring lip—
“How light! how simple are the straw!
How delicate the chip!”
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Hush’d is the speaker’s powerful voice,
The audience melt away;
I fly to fix my final choice,
And bless the instructive day.
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The milliner officious pours
Of hats and caps her ready stores,
The unbought elegance of spring;
Some, wide, disclose the full round face,
Some, shadowy, lend a modest grace,
And stretch their sheltering wing.
Here clustering grapes appear to shed
Their luscious juices on the head,
And cheat the longing eye:
So round the Phrygian monarch hung
Fair fruits, that from his parched tongue
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| 86 | MEMOIR OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. |
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For ever seemed to fly.
Here early blooms the summer rose,
Here ribbons wreathe fantastic bows;
There plays gay plumage of a thousand dyes.—
Visions of beauty, spare my aching eyes!
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Ye cumbrous fashions, crowd not on my head!
Mine be the chip of purest white,
Swan-like, and as her feathers light
When on the still ware spread;
And let it wear the graceful dress
Of unadorned simpleness!
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Ah, frugal wish! Ah, pleasing thought!
Ah, hope indulged in vain!
Of modest fancy cheaply bought,
A stranger yet to Payne!
With undissembled grief I tell,
(For sorrow never comes too late,)
The simplest bonnet in Fall Mall
Is sold for one pound eight.
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To calculation’s sober view,
That searches every plan,
Who keep the old, or buy the new,
Shall end where they began.
Alike the shabby and the gay
Must meet the sun’s meridian ray,
The air—the dust—the damp:
This, shall the sudden shower despoil,
That, slow decay by gradual soil,
Those, envious boxes cramp.
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Who will, their squander’d gold may pay,
Who will, our taste deride;
We’ll scorn the fashion of the day
With philosophic pride.
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Methinks we thus, in accents low,
Might Sydney
Smith address:—
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“Poor moralist! and what art thou,
Who never spoke of dress?
Thy mental hero never hung
Suspended on a tailor’s tongue,
In agonizing doubt!
Thy tale no fluttering female show’d,
Who languish’d for the newest mode,
Yet dares to live without!”
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The proceeds of these lectures,—for which, after the first series, he was allowed to name his own terms,—enabled him to furnish his new house in Orchard-street, where he continued to live during the remainder of his residence in London, and where two more children were born to him;—a son who died in infancy, and his youngest daughter, Emily.
In this house, though from the various sources mentioned his means were slightly increased, yet he still remained poor. But it was poverty in its most pleasing form; not that struggle with wealth, not that false shame, the outward show, the constant seeming, which we so often witness in the world, and which is the real sting of poverty; but the poverty of a man of sense who respected himself.
All was consistent about him: the comfort and happiness of home he
considered the “grammar of life;” and his house, though plain, often in
every sense of the word, was all his life the perfection of comfort. Considering domestic
comfort so important, he thought no trouble too great, no detail too small, to merit his
attention; and, though brought up in
| 88 | MEMOIR OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. |
But the pleasantest society at his house was to be found in the little
suppers which he established once a week; giving a general invitation to about twenty or
thirty persons, who used to come as they pleased; and occasionally adding to, and varying
them by accidental and invited guests. At these suppers there was no attempt at display,
nothing to tempt the palate; but they were most eagerly sought after; and were I to begin
enumerating the guests usually to be found there, no one would wonder that they were so.
There are still a few living who can look back to them, and I have always found them do so
with a sigh of regret. There was no restraint but that of good taste,—no formality,—a happy
mixture of men and women,—the foolish and the wise,—the grave and the gay,— and sometimes
conversation was varied by music. I see it stated in the Life of Sir James Mackintosh, that a great part of this choice
little society used to meet
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To these suppers occasionally came a country cousin of my father’s,—a simple, warm-hearted rustic; and she used to come up to him and whisper, “Now, Sydney, I know these are all very remarkable men; do tell me who they are.” “Oh yes,” said Sydney, laughing, “that is Hannibal,” pointing to Mr. Whishaw, “he lost his leg in the Carthaginian War; and that is Socrates,” pointing to Luttrell; “and that is Solon,” pointing to Horner,—“you have heard of Solon?” The girl opened her ears, eyes, and mouth with admiration, half doubting, half believing that Sydney was making fun of her: but perfectly convinced that if they were not the individuals in question, they were something quite as great.
It was on occasion of one of these suppers that Sir James Mackintosh happened to bring with him a raw Scotch cousin, an
ensign in a Highland regiment. On hearing the name of his host he suddenly turned round,
and, nudging Sir James, said in an audible whisper, “Is that
the great Sir Sudney?” “Yes,
yes,” said Sir James, much amused; and giving my father
the hint, on the instant he assumed the military character, performed the part of the hero
of Acre to perfection, fought all his battles over again, and showed
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By this time many of his Scotch friends had likewise come to England, which
offered a wider field for the exercise of their talents,—Horner, Lord Webb Seymour, Mr. Brougham, and others, with whom he
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He was very early elected a member of a very agreeable dining club, calling itself by the modest title of The King of Clubs, which he often alludes to with pleasure in his letters; but it was not till the year 1838 that he was admitted into that very remarkable literary Club established by Dr. Johnson and his friends, and calling itself The Club, of which Dr. Johnson says, “There is no club like our club.” On its books may be seen the names, not only of Johnson, Goldsmith, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Burke, Gibbon, etc.; but a list of all the most eminent men that England has produced in every class and rank of society since its foundation. Mr. Van de Weyer, the Belgian Minister, is, I believe, the only foreigner that has ever been admitted since its first establishment; and, as was observed to him by a distinguished member of the Club, on being so admitted, he has received the highest title of naturalization that it is in the power of this country to bestow.
My father was now, with many of his early friends, contributing largely to
the Edinburgh Review; and as his powers and
principles became more known, he of course became more and more obnoxious to the party in
power, and was the object of much abuse and much misrepresentation. One of the earliest
recollections I have, is, that of being stopped at our door, when returning from my walk,
by Mr. ——, and desired to tell my father that the King had been
read-
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An anecdote has lately reached me from a very early friend, which is an
epitome of what I have observed of my father through life, and has quite delighted me;—that
having once made up his mind as to what he ought to do, he did it, be the consequences what
they might to himself. It was on this principle he entered the Church, on this he acted in
it, and on every important occasion of private life. He was going to preach at the
Foundling Hospital, and had selected a sermon containing a strong attack upon opinions
which he thought were rapidly increasing, and producing most injurious effects on religion.
My mother saw and knew the sermon, and exclaimed, “Oh, Sydney, do
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In the year 1807 he preached a sermon on Toleration, in the Temple Church, and was requested to publish it. He did so, and added the following preface:—
“This sermon is not published from a belief that it has any merit in composition, or any claim to originality of thinking, but to bear my share of testimony against a religious clamour, which is very foolish in all those in whom it is not very wicked.
“I am sorry to write what I know it has been extremely disagreeable to many of those before whom I am in the habit of preaching to hear, but I should be infinitely more sorry that this or any other apprehension should prevent me from doing what I believe to be my duty.
“Charity towards those who dissent from us on religious opinions is
always a proper subject for the pul-
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Meantime he had the satisfaction of feeling that he was not leading a
useless life. He writes: “It pleases me sometimes to think of the very great
number of important subjects which have been discussed in the Edinburgh Review in so enlightened a manner; it is a sort
of magazine of liberal sentiments, which I hope will be read by the rising generation,
and infuse into them a proper contempt for their parents’ stupid and
unphilosophical prejudices.” He had also the consolation, as his character
displayed itself, of obtaining what he said was the one “earthly good worth
straggling for, the love and esteem of many good and great men.” Amongst
these, the two most intimately associated
| MEMOIR OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. | 95 |
At this period of his life, indeed, his spirits were often such that they were more like the joyousness and playfulness of a clever school-boy than the sobriety and gravity of the father of a family; and his gaiety was so irresistible and so infectious, that it carried everything before it. Nothing could withstand the contagion of that ringing, joy-inspiring laugh, which seemed to spring from the fresh, genuine enjoyment he felt at the multitude of unexpected images which sprang up in his mind, and succeeded each other with a rapidity that hardly allowed his hearers to follow him, but left them panting and exhausted with laughter, to cry out for mercy.
An amusing instance of this occurred once, when he met that Queen of
Tragedy, Mrs. Siddons, for the first time. She
seemed determined to resist him, and preserve her tragic dignity; but after a vain struggle
yielded to the general infection, and flung herself back in her chair, in such a fearful
paroxysm of laughter,
| 96 | MEMOIR OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. |
He contrived to make the most commonplace subjects amusing, and carried everybody along with him, in his wildest flights of drollery. One evening, the subject of conversation was the meteorological turn of mind of the English nation. “What would become of us had it pleased Providence to make the weather unchangeable? Think of the state of destitution of the morning callers. Now, I will give you a specimen of their conversation: Mrs. Jackson and Mrs. Jones, two respectable ancient females, shall be calling upon Mrs. Green, and Mrs. Brown shall join their party, and return by moonlight; Mrs. Brown shall catch cold and expire in the arms of her friend, calling for peppermint water, and exclaiming, The moon! the moon!” And taking up his pen, partly from the comical delight he had in what he was doing, partly from the exquisite commonplaces he strung together, and the faithful picture he drew of a morning visit in England, he kept us all in such roars of laughter, and he laughed so heartily himself as he wrote, that we all went quite exhausted to bed; the very recollection of that scene, even at this distance of time, makes me laugh again as I write.
Another day he came home, with two hackney-coach loads of pictures, which he
had met with at an auction; having found it impossible to resist so many yards of
brown-looking figures and faded landscapes going “for absolutely nothing,—unheard
of sacrifices.” Kate
| MEMOIR OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. | 97 |
He invited all his friends, displayed them at his suppers, insisted upon their being looked at and admired in every point of view, discovered fresh beauties for each new comer; and, for three or four days, under the magic influence of his wit and imagination, these gloomy old pictures were a perpetual source of amusement and fun.
At last, finding he was considered no authority in the fine arts, and that his pictures made no progress in public opinion, off they went, to my mother’s great relief, as suddenly as they came, to another auction; but all rechristened first by himself, amidst his laughing friends, with names never before heard of. One, I remember, was “a beautiful landscape, by Nicholas de Falda, a pupil of Valdeggio, the only painting by that eminent artist.” The pictures sold, I believe, for rather less than he gave for them under their original names, which were probably as real as their assumed ones.
On another occasion he took it into his head to make a crusade against an
unfortunate Mrs. Dumplin, who was filled with the ambition of giving a
rout.
| 98 | MEMOIR OF THE REV. SYDNEY SMITH. |
These are some of the little nothings which he had the art to turn into somethings, but which, I fear, resume their original insignificance under my pen; for I feel it impossible to give to them the life and raciness they had in reality, and which constituted their chief charm.
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