feels sure that he need offer no apology in that company for proposing to them the "health of their respected and admirable host."

What a pity it is that improper language is not proper language! Phrases fit for a magazine, are all unfitted to convey an idea of the indignation, with which such an after-dinner orator must inspire the most patient and unresenting nature. It is impossible to say what we think of him in print.

Among the other species, he is most to be avoided, who takes his flight without a subject of any sort to set bounds to his discursivenesswho has the faculty of saying an infinite deal of nothing, upon nothing. He opens with an humble acknowledgment, that after the brilliant speeches to which he has been a delighted listener, it would be presumptuous in him to dream of interesting his audience—and then off he goes. Sheer want of breath can alone check his career, even momentarily. Mysterious are the laws that govern the human mind, but more mysterious is the mind that is governed by no laws at all. Such is the mind of our expatiater upon flowers and stars, and divine emotions and humanizing influences on power, glory, beauty, love, and genius-on revivifying gladness and ecstatic sorrow-on every thing that is and is not-and on all that amounts to the opposite of something. These spoiled children of eloquence have a theory that sound and sense, too, are not necessary to a splendid speech: they are convinced that speaking and thinking at the same time is a sad waste of the human faculty. They consistently act upon their theoretic principle; they harangue, two hours together in a manner remarkably independent of thought, and if they ever think, it must be when they are silent. As they use no phrases but very fine ones, their language is assumed to be eloquent; as Brummel might have been taken for a Croesus in virtue of his profound unconsciousness

change for a shilling." Because they are always speaking, they fancy that they must be speakers-it would be as reasonable to contend that a man who always walks to his club, must be club-footed.

The science of dining will never be perfectly understood, or rendered so conducive as it might be to the happiness and ends of society, until it has been made to comprise all the after-arrangements which are now left for chance or caprice to settle. Then, a man will no more be allowed to make speeches over his wine than over his venison, and he would just as soon think of eating the health of every man at table as of drinking it. Imagine the absurdity of pledging the chairman in calipash; or rising, spoon in hand, to propose a friend's health in a bumper of green peas!

Those whose miserable fate it has been to move much among orators, must, in the intensity of their unmerited affliction, carry their objections to speechifying still further. For my own part, I am clearly of opinion, with my Lord B., that "practised oratory" is a "worthless accomplishment," and that he is the most eloquent man in company who most nearly resembles Fielding's venerated Parson Supple-a gentleman who was remarkable for his taciturnity at table, though his mouth was never shut at it. But the accomplishment is worse than worthless. Never, I am convinced, will our beloved country flourish as it ought to do, until speechmaking is abolished by act of parliament. Tongues once set going, never stand still while their owners are able to stand. As long speeches require ears to match, it should be a sign of wisdom not to listen. Let those who speak, hear too. Every Orator his own Audience. That's reasonable.

HOW TO GET ON.

"Aultant vault l'homme comme il s'estime."-RABELAIS.

"Beaucoup d'orgueil et peu de science, en faut il plus, pour ne douter de rien ?" -HENRI TROIS.

"We'll do more, Sempronius, we'll not deserve it."-CATO remodelled.

THERE are two roads to success in life, either of which, if pursued with frankness, may lead a long way. The one runs through a perfect knowledge of self; the other through a blind ignorance alike of one's own weaknesses and powers. Horace, in his simplicity, preferred the former; recommending his readers to ascertain the strength of their shoulders before they engage in any enterprise, and to abstain from undertaking what is manifestly beyond their capability. In the literal sense of the words, this is certainly good advice; for the laws of dynamics are thoroughly uncompromising, and beat those of the Medes and Persiaus for obstinacy out and out. But figuratively speaking, we much prefer the opposite plan, the improved method of modern times; for he who is very nice in his calculation of possibilities, rarely gets on like him who dashes at all in the ring. The reason is obvious: in society, none but the lowest classes work with their own shoulders; and the inadequacy of their reward speaks for itself. Putting the hewers of wood, and the drawers of water out of the question, every man's strength depends much less on what he can do himself, then on what he can persuade others to do for him; and hence springs the immense value of capital in commercial matters, where the jingling of two pieces of coin, has more persuasive energy in setting men in motion, than all the oratory that has cajoled the world, from the days of Adam, to this present 1839, of intellect-marching celebrity.

On the Horatian rule, as we have said, much may be done; but then it must be under conditions of no common occurrence. A knowledge of the quid valeant humeri, when properly applied to conduct, certainly does beget in the agent that sort of confidence which imposes on others, and predisposes the world to second his efforts, or at least indisposes it to making resistance, by rendering it pretty clear that opposition will in all probability be vain. Nay, what is of infinitely greater importance to success, the consciousness of power, which is founded on self-knowledge, not only imposes on others, but bears the man himself along, over innumerable obstacles, and makes him see in the resistances of society fresh motives for perseverance and increased energy. It was thus that Columbus was enabled first, to induce others to countenance a project in which they did not themselves very confidently believe; and afterwards, to master the reluctance of his crew to persevere, when hope had all but left them; and it was thus that Beaumarchais succeeded in getting his revolutionary Marriage of Figaro" played in defiance of Louis XVI. and his court, simply by persuading himself and every body else that he would do so.

The knowledge of our possessing that within us, which is equal to the emergency, valuable as it is, in directing our efforts into the proper Oct.-VOL. LVII. NO. CCXXVI.

M

channel, is infinitely more effective to success, by this its influence on others, which hurries public opinion along, exerting a positive dominion over the volitions of all. Either of them alone, may raise a great name, or at least produce material triumphs very flattering, and very desirable; but the two combined, lead to the highest eminences of fame, carrying the Wellingtons through their long struggles to victory upon victory; enabling the Brunels to perfect their tunnels, and the Rothschilds to round off their millions. There is, however, this slight drawback, this discount to be taken into consideration, on adopting self-knowledge as the basis of conduct, namely, that the requisite power must be there. Wellingtons, and Brunels, and Rothschilds, are not of every-day creation; and self-knowledge is of very little avail to raising a fortune, when it only teaches us that we are good for nothing. For all practical purposes, therefore, it is a principle little to be depended on. To the majority of mankind, this taking of intellectual stock, is but a demonstration of a limited capital; and instead of encouraging them to push their business, is no better than a quiet invitation to sell off at an immense "sacrifice" (in shop-keeping parlance), and retire. Where ignorance is bliss, we are told that it is folly to be wise; and there can be no doubt thatthe general prevalence of an exaggerated estimate of self, is the result of a merciful dispensation, which, by blinding blockheads to their own incapacity, carries them very frequently through difficulties under which, if their eyes were open, they would infallibly succumb.

If the road, then, through self-knowledge leads, in a few rare cases, to the greatest successes, that through self-sufficiency leads to the greatest number of every-day advancements. There is, as every one knows, two species of courage, one arising in a full sense of the danger to be encountered, and of our own power of encountering it; and another in a brutal insensibility to consequences, a bullheadedness which shuts its eyes, and butts with all its might and main. The one is the proper virtue of the commanding officer, the other the animal impulse of the common soldier; but both alike carry their men over the same field to the same victory. Just so it is with self-knowledge and self-sufficiency: the one is an intelligent, the other a blind principle; but each of them, acting on individuals according to their kind, may be made instruments in helping the fool and the wit together along the thorny path of life. It is but necessary to avoid confusion in their application to specific cases.

Having premised thus much, we must have rendered it very plain that ignorant presumption is a much safer and generally preferable means of advancement than merit, inasmuch as it is better suited to the great mass of mankind. Independently, indeed, of the rarity of superior merit, which closes the first of our high-roads to so many adventurers, there is a superior facility-a macadamization, “a primrose path"-iness of the other way, which must commend it to a general preference. In proportion to the rarity of merit is the rarity of the power of perceiving merit; so that when the man of genius has assured himself of his own advantages, and makes his claims accordingly on the public confidence and co-operation, he infallibly discovers that all the fools are against him, and linked with the host of charlatans and pretenders, who have started on the sole basis of their own self-sufficiency, and with whom he finds himself engaged in a painful rivality. On

such occasions the man of merit, conscious of his own powers, limits his pretensions and his promises to those powers: the man of selfsufficiency sees nothing, doubts of nothing, and pretends to every thing. His claims are bounded only by his desires, his anticipation of success is strong in proportion as it is ill-founded; and the public, unable to distinguish a modest self-confidence from an impudent presumption, and incapable of estimating the relative basis of each, run with infinitely more ardour before the charlatan, than before his more worthy rival, who is pretty sure to be defeated in the contest. In this respect fortune is not so much a lottery as some have imagined, but rather a game of brag, or an auction, in which the highest bidder carries the day. The man of merit, in addressing himself principally to his equals, addresses the smaller number. He disdains the ignorant and the inobservant; he cannot cut blocks with razors, or stoop to play Punch for ad captandum purposes. No wonder, then, that he runs so much risk of dying, before he has convinced mankind of his excellence, and of leaving his reputation in the hands of posterity, who may, or may not care to do it justice. The man of presumption addresses himself, however unconsciously, most especially to the fools, for whom he has an instinctive attachment; and he finds on every side multitudes disposed to help him on, upon his own grounds, namely, on their utter ignorance of every thing concerning the man himself and his enterprise. It is scarcely necessary for us to mention that in this case the presuming fool is as well served by his inapprehensiveness of his own infirmities, as the man of merit is by his consciousness of strength. All that is necessary to carry the masses is an imposing air of self-confidence; and if this be perfect, it does not greatly matter to the required end what may be its precise basis. Let the man possessed of a "splendid shilling" and a regular-built Dando enter the oyster-room together, and the probability is that the latter will be first served, on the strength of his superior swagger. Yet he, after all, is but a poor actor; while the self-sufficient man is a confiding believer in himself; and, never suspecting that he is not all that he represents himself, tops his part, simply because he is not acting.

Let us not, however, be misunderstood; we do not desire absolutely to run down merit. Merit (we began by stating the fact) has its advantages; the savoir, indeed when added to the instinctive savoir faire, which belongs by right of temperament to the self-sufficient, very much increases the chances of getting on in life; for while the latter commands success, the former justifies and maintains it. But modest merit is the very devil; and so far from being "a farthing candle to your merit," is a downright extinguisher. What obligation has the world to turn out of its ordinary way, to find out that a man is worth more than the rate he fixes on himself? Obliged or not obliged, the world, we may be assured, is on this point not very punctilious; if accident does not come to the modest man's assistance, and drag him into daylight (doing that for him which he won't do for himself), he will to a dead certainty be "left alone in his glory." Merit, then, when backed by a quantum of what is called "modest assurance," is not to be despised; all we contend for is its scarcity, and the power of self-sufficiency to supply its place, when it is non est inventus.

The pleasantest illustration of our doctrine will be found in the class

of Irishmen delineated by Power the comedian. The distinctive characteristic of this variety of the human species is the utter incapacity of being abashed. No matter into what extravagant position the ne cessities of the drama throw such persons, they never despair they never doubt of their own capability to extricate themselves; or, in their own phraseology, of being " up to snuff, and a pinch above it." It would be a great mistake to confound these self-believers with common impostors. It is true that the Irish tutor, when he passes his native language for Greek, is aware of his own imposition, he knows that he is putting a trick upon his hearer,-but still he so far identifies himself with the part he assumes, that he never for a moment pauses to consider the improbability of duping the parties; he is himself the first to credit his own infallibility, and this self-confidence it is that carries him through. In the drama of real life, the farce may not always be quite so humorous; for the self-sufficient usually affect the more solemn plausibilities; while to the knowing looker-on, their success is more likely to provoke indignation than risibility: yet with a moderate share of cynicism, and complete personal indifference in the event, the spec tacle of successful assumption is not altogether unentertaining.

It may, perhaps, be objected to our hypothesis, that the very fact of taking an exaggerated estimate of ourselves, must imply a special liability to failure that overweening presumption must perpetually hurry its victim into scrapes; and that inability needs but to be tried in order to be found wanting. Such an objection is any thing but fatal, even admitting its abstract truth; for in the first place there are so many "employments in life," in which the judgments of society are in fault, in which failure cannot be directly traced to incompetence, or in which the public wants the faculty of discovering whether the party has failed or no. It is nothing new to witness a blockhead possessed of some of the personal advantages necessary to a tragedian, taking it into his head that he is an actor. If he has but sense enough to adopt the traditional conventionalisms of his trade, and to keep on good terms with the newspapers, it will be long enough before the town finds him out-certainly not until some newer candidate of mediocrity starts up to contest the prize with him; and even then, intrigue may carry him through. Now had this man formed a just estimate of himself, would he not have remained in his primitive obscurity? So, too, if a man just capable of daubing a canvass with paint, mistakes himself for a Raffaelle, talks confidently of his art, reviles his rivals, and vaunts himself, the probability is that he will pass on the town at his own valuation, that he will paint half the aldermen in the city, before a modester man can summon courage to exhibit a picture, and that, even when his monstrosities cease to be the fashion, he may continue to impose himself as an authority in picturedealing and virtù. In politics, literature, and religion, assurance has a still better time of it. Demosthenes made action the one essential of oratory; in our days we would rather give the palm to impudence. He who distrusts himself, and knows his own imperfections, will never get further than "Mr. Speaker," in his speechification; or if he ventures to hum and ha himself through his "maiden speech," will never obtain a second hearing. But let a man fancy himself an orator, adopt the round full tones, and the sententious cadences, which a good ear will suffice to give him, let him stare the house in the face, and knock