s to
wait until you are settled in the grave, and then confound your friends
and foes by attacks which come to the light long after your ears are
deaf to praise and blame. Samuel Wilberforce went into the choicest
society that Britain could show; he was the confidant of many people,
and he contrived to charm all but a few cross-grained critics. His good
humour seemed inexhaustible; and those who saw his cherubic face beaming
sweetly on the company at banquets or assemblies fancied that so
delightful a man was never known before. But this suave, unctuous
gentleman, who fascinated every one, from Queen to cottager, spent a
pretty fair share of his life in writing vicious witticisms and scandals
concerning the folk with whom he seemed to be on affectionate terms. At
nights, after spending his days in working and bowing and smiling and
winning the hearts of men, he went home and poured out all the venom
that was in his heart. When his memoirs appeared, all the most select
social circles in the country were driven into a serious flutter. No one
was spared; and, as some of the statements made by Wilberforce were, to
say the least, a little sweeping, a violent paper warfare began, which
has hardly ceased raging even now. Happy and contented men who believed
that the Bishop loved and admired them were surprised to find that he
had disliked and despised them. Moreover, the naughty diarist had an
ugly habit of recording men's private conversations; and thus a good
many sayings which should have been kept secret became public property.
A very irreverent wag wrote--

How blest was he who'd ne'er consent
With Wilberforce to walk,
Nor dined with Soapy Sam, nor let
The Bishop hear him talk!

and this crude epigram expressed the feelings of numbers of enraged and
scandalized individuals. The wretched book gave us an ugly picture of a
hollow society where kindness seemed non-existent, and where every man
walked with his head in a cloud of poisonous flies. As more memoirs
appeared, it was most funny to observe that, while Wilberforce was
occupied in scarifying his dear friends, some of his dear friends were
occupied in scarifying him. Thus we find Abraham Hayward, a polished
leader of society, writing in the following way of Wilberforce, with
whom ostensibly his relations were of the most affectionate
description--"Wilberforce is really a low fellow. Again and again the
committee of the Athenaeum Club have been