at Paris, he was instantly thrown into
prison, where the nature of his situation will best be understood by
knowing that amongst its _mitigations_ was the permission to walk
occasionally in the court and to enjoy the privilege of shaving himself.
On the old system of feelings and principles, his sufferings might have
been entitled to consideration, and, even in a comparison with those of
Citizen La Fayette, to a priority in the order of compassion. If the
ministers had neglected to take any steps in his favor, a declaration of
the sense of the House of Commons would have stimulated them to their
duty. If they had caused a representation to be made, such a proceeding
would have added force to it. If reprisal should be thought advisable,
the address of the House would have given an additional sanction to a
measure which would have been, indeed, justifiable without any other
sanction than its own reason. But no. Nothing at all like it. In fact,
the merit of Sir Sydney Smith, and his claim on British compassion, was
of a kind altogether different from that which interested so deeply the
authors of the motion in favor of Citizen La Fayette. In my humble
opinion, Captain Sir Sydney Smith has another sort of merit with the
British nation, and something of a higher claim on British humanity,
than Citizen La Fayette. Faithful, zealous, and ardent in the service of
his king and country,--full of spirit,--full of resources,--going out of
the beaten road, but going right, because his uncommon enterprise was
not conducted by a vulgar judgment,--in his profession Sir Sydney Smith
might be considered as a distinguished person, if any person could well
be distinguished in a service in which scarce a commander can be named
without putting you in mind of some action of intrepidity, skill, and
vigilance that has given them a fair title to contend with any men and
in any age. But I will say nothing farther of the merits of Sir Sydney
Smith: the mortal animosity of the Regicide enemy supersedes all other
panegyric. Their hatred is a judgment in his favor without appeal. At
present he is lodged in the tower of the Temple, the last prison of
Louis the Sixteenth, and the last but one of Marie Antoinette of
Austria,--the prison of Louis the Seventeenth,--the prison of Elizabeth
of Bourbon. There he lies, unpitied by the grand philanthropy, to
meditate upon the fate of those who are faithful to their king and
country. Whilst this prisoner, seclud