This officer, having attempted, with great gallantry, to cut out a vessel from one of the enemy’s harbors, was taken after an obstinate resistance,—­such as obtained him the marked respect of those who were witnesses of his valor, and knew the circumstances in which it was displayed.  Upon his arrival 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, secluded from intercourse, was indulging in these cheering reflections, he might possibly have had the further consolation of learning (by means of the insolent exultation of his guards) that there was an English ambassador at Paris; he might