in to a
system of low libel. There is no excuse for this but the necessity of
living; but Hook, had he retained any principle, might have made enough
to live upon in a more honest manner. His name does, certainly, not
stand out well among the wits of this country, but after all, since all
were so bad, Hook may be excused as not being the worst of them.
_Requiescat in pace_.

SYDNEY SMITH.

The 'Wise Wit.'--Oddities of the Father.--Verse-making at Winchester.--
Curate Life on Salisbury Plain.--Old Edinburgh.--Its Social and
Architectural Features.--Making Love Metaphysically.--The Old Scottish
Supper.--The Men of Mark passing away---The Band of Young Spirits.--
Brougham's Early Tenacity.--Fitting up Conversations.--'Old School'
Ceremonies.--The Speculative Society.--A Brilliant Set.--Sydney's Opinion
of his Friends.--Holland House.--Preacher at the 'Foundling.'--Sydney's
'Grammar of Life.'--The Picture Mania.--A Living Comes at Last.--The
wit's Ministry.--The Parsonage House at Foston-le-Clay.--Country Quiet.
The Universal Scratcher.--Country Life and Country Prejudice.--The Genial
Magistrate.--Glimpse of Edinburgh Society.--Mrs. Grant of Laggan. A
Pension Difficulty.--Jeffrey and Cockburn.--Craigcrook.--Sydney Smith's
Cheerfulness.--His Rheumatic Armour.--No Bishopric.--Becomes Canon of St.
Paul's.--Anecdotes of Lord Dudley.--A Sharp Reproof.--Sydney's
Classification of Society.--Last Strokes of Humour.

Smith's reputation--to quote from Lord Cockburn's 'Memorial of
Edinburgh'--'here, then, was the same as it has been throughout his
life, that of a wise wit.' A wit he was, but we must deny him the
reputation of being a beau. For that, nature, no less than his holy
office, had disqualified him. Who that ever beheld him in a London
drawing-room, when he went to so many dinners that he used to say he was
a walking patty--who could ever miscall him a beau? How few years have
we numbered since one perceived the large bulky form in canonical
attire--the plain, heavy face, large, long, unredeemed by any
expression, except that of sound hard sense--and thought, 'can this be
the Wit?' How few years is it since Henry Cockburn, hating London, and
coming but rarely to what he called the 'devil's drawing room,' stood
near him, yet apart, for he was the most diffident of men; his wonderful
luminous eyes, his clear, almost youthful, vivid complexion, contrasting
brightly with the gray, pallid, prebendal complexion of Sydne