him recoiled from following in the path of either the one or the other.  With a subtile and exuberant wit,—­he knew that wit touches not sacred things.  With great practical prudence and a brilliant speculative capacity,—­in a clergyman, prudence is less than faith, and brilliancy of thought than the glow of the heart.  In his rich composite character he had, indeed, the qualities which make the clergyman; his disposition was religious, his heart was tender and Christian, he could give the best advice to the people; and though his appearance was not quite saint-like, it was at least suggestive of a good man who was walking in the way which he pointed out to others.  But these qualities were not those with which he was most highly endowed.  Energy and sterling common-sense, which he had inherited from his father, an elastic, mercurial, and passionate nature, which had come to him from his Huguenot mother,—­these were the strong points in his character, and it belongs to neither of them to take the lead in the Church.  Sydney had scanned the whole field.  Having questioned well his desires, examined well his blood, derived what wisdom he could from history and observation, he deliberately chose the law.  Why, then, did he take to theology?  We read that his father had incurred so much expense in educating his eldest son for the legal profession, and in fitting out two others for India, that he could not well furnish the means for Sydney’s education, and strongly recommended him to go into the Church; and that the son sacrificed his own to his father’s inclination.

We may imagine Sydney Smith’s reflections.  With his versatile talent, honorable ambition, and consciousness that he could have made a shining name in political life, his object now was to find a sufficient sphere for the exercise of all his powers in the Church.  It was no fault of his that he was unwilling to settle as curate and have no aim beyond his parish except to go to heaven at last.  With his superfluity of human nature, for him to become a saint was out of the question.  What then?  Should he enter the realm of dogmatics, and become a learned and redoubted champion of the faith, passing his life amid exegesis?  Should he renounce thorough thinking, and become a polished and popular pastor, an ornament of the pulpit and of society?  Should he signalize himself for gravity, orthodoxy, and ability, seek the earthly prizes of his profession, and perhaps become Archbishop of Canterbury?  Should he become a jolly, vinous, and Friar-Tuck sort of clergyman?  God forbid! he said to each of these queries, and rushed forward into his profession.  Regarding himself as a lamb for the slaughter, yet tremendously in earnest not to be sacrificed, he went into the Church groping and fearing, but resolute.  Trembling lest he should not do his duty both to himself and to his sacred office, he yet determined to try.  Thus the thorn which troubled Sydney Smith was not an affliction, but was what he regarded as a danger; and, though less patent and pointed than that in the life of Charles Lamb, probably had not less influence in the discipline of character.