THE POWER OF DULNESS.

87

shrink from the obstacles which are apparent; but the stupid flounder on blindly, and often manage to stumble past them. They are thwarted sometimes, of course, but where they are ready to undertake anything, it would be a wonder if they did not succeed now and then. Gil Blas was told by a Spanish dandy how to gain a reputation for wit. "Say anything (said the teacher)-anything that comes uppermost Never check yourself-never baulk yourself battle on anyhow without staying to think. You will talk plenty of nonsense, no doubt, but some bright things will drop out, and they will make you." That was true advice as the world goes-a real recipe for getting on. Dash at everything without considering, and you will do something in the long run, depend upon it. But it is only stupid folks who take the counsel and profit by it. The clever ones are too wise to run the risk, and, in accordance with the adage, Nothing venture nothing have," go away empty handed.

It is a piece of every-day philosophy that "Nothing is lost by asking for something. Friends push a man on by telling him, "If they don't give you anything they can't take anything away from you." But men who have sense generally have modesty and feeling. They do not like to be obtrusive-they are pained by being refused, and dread being repulsed. The oafs are less sensitive and more persevering. Bashfulness is not one of their faults, while perseverance of a certain kind is one of their virtues. If they want a thing they ask for it; and if they are denied, rudely even, they are not shocked. They have the faculty of repetition, which they evince not only by telling the same stories over and over again, but by preferring the same request twenty times in succession. They strike when the iron is hot, and when the iron is cold, but they strike always. Like the Duke of Wellington's guards, they are always ready to be "up and at 'em." They are the cousins of that famous talking bird which was for ever repeating "Never say die." The importunity of a pedlar gives but a faint notion of theirs. Where worthier men go back in despair, they push in by sheer force of botheration and instal themselves into the most comfortable quarters, and effect an entrance into "the best society."

The fear of ridicule is a great barrier to thousands. Men draw back from defeat -not so much because it is defeat-as because they are afraid of being laughed at. It is always the stupidest louts who jump in sacks at fairs, or bob for oranges, or climb the greasy pole. You may laugh at them as much as you like, so that they win the prize and carry off the dangling mutton. There are many standing by who could do it better, but they don't like to try-so it is with those who play the prominent parts in the world. They are wit-proof. Try on them the satire described by Pope, which

Like a polished razor keen,

Wounds with a touch that's scarcely felt or seen ;"

they will not mind it at all, that you may depend upon; you may as well try to cut down an oak with a penknife. The rhinoceros is not a more noble animal than the lion-not more graceful, or beautiful, or terrible-but it is not killed so easily. It has a hide as thick as the skulls of some people, or thicker, from which bullets recoil and arrows glance off. Stupid people are to the world of man what the rhinoceros is to the world of beasts-more formidable for their passive than their active power, for what they can bear than what they can do. A well-known pugilist-Deaf Burke, we think-used to stand up and let anybody "hit at him" for half-a-crown or so an hour; and we remember another individual who was ready to bend a pewter pot by striking it on his head for a trifling honorarium. Neither of these personages were remarkably clever men, but they both possessed the art by which a great deal of money is made-the art of bearing a great deal without wincing. That art, if art it be which looks so like nature, stupid people are eminently gifted with.

Trifles, in the aggregate, are of great importance. Being of great importance, of course attention to them is profitable. Who are most likely to attend to trifles, the stupid or the clever people? Why the answer is so obvious that it has passed into a proverb. Everybody will tell you that "little things please little minds"-and as stupid men have little minds, the conclusion is obvious. I hope, good sir, that whichever class you may belong to, you have logical acumen enough to perceive the conclusion. There are few minds which have the adaptability of the elephant's trunk, the power of pulling up a tree or picking up a pin. The smaller capability is that which belongs to the stupid, and that is at present commercially the most

THE POWER OF DULNESS.

valuable. Small projects are supported because they are easily comprehended, and the little men who get them up are elevated. Large schemes fail because they are too comprehensive to be grasped by a world of which stupidity is a motive power, and great men, in whose brains they originate, are pushed down. Even when, after a time, majestie undertakings do succeed, they are carried out by stupid folks, who have, after long contemplation, become familiar with them, and who fatten on them as vultures do on the carcase of a dead buffalo, which they would never have been able to kill for themselves.

I do not know whether it has ever struck anybody else as it has me, that stupid people have the most luck. The chapter of accidents is tremendously in their favour. It is said that children, before intelligence is fully developed, are the most fortunate gamblers. The dies seem to turn up unaccountably for them. They throw higher numbers at random than others do by calculation. Certain it is that their prototypes, the "children of a larger growth," are especial favourites of chance. Fortune is clearly a lady, for she shows her sex by preferring the fools. Chance sports with them while it kills others. They have more aptitude for falling on their legs than a cat, and fall lighter than most people. A friend of mine nearly fell down stairs, and hurt himself more in the struggle to keep from falling than if he had fell. The doctor said he did it in the effort to save himself. Well, if he had not had sense enough to try to avert danger, he would have been better off. We read somewhere lately that man is the only animal who drowns naturally, and that it happens because he is a reasoning creature and has a large brain. That clearly applies only to a section of man, and as for the rest it explains the buoyancy of the stupid, who are, like corks amid the waves, saved by their own lightheadedness in a sea of difficulties. One of the best anecdotes we ever heard of the fortunes of the stupid is told of a city merchant, who, as his friends said, "could not do anything wrong." Some people, who knew his stupidity, made a bet that if he sent warming-pans to the West Indies the speculation would turn out successful. In his ignorance he was persuaded to venture a cargo of that unlikely article for a tropical climate. The ship arrived just at sugar-making time; pans for ladling the boiling sugar were in request; the warming-pans were bought up for that purpose, and the intelligent exporter netted a handsome profit. That is an extreme example, but between that extreme and the confines of cleverness there are many instances which point the same moral.

I am almost afraid to venture upon another illustration, because the subject is surrounded by poetic ideas, and associated with fine words-I mean military glory. But as I have gone so far, I may as well go on. justifies me. I "may as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb." Since I must ex"Nothing venture nothing have," pect censure for running counter to the world, a little more or less does not matter much. "In for a penny in for a pound," as the Yankee observed; so since I am on the track-forward. Well, then, the love for military glory, and the things men do to attain it, are at the very summit of national and individual stupidity. It is really no more an act of wisdom to fight for so many square miles of ground than to fight for "fifty pounds a-side." And then, as to the mode of fighting, "the ring" has the sensible side of the question beyond doubt. It may be, is nasty to be bruised by fists-to have your eyes blacked, your nose flattened, your teeth knocked out, your flesh pounded to a jelly; but what is that to a ball in your already too weighty head, a sabre cut over your brow, or a bayonet in your stomach? I am convinced that none but the stupid would venture on such risks, and they would not if, like the fools of old, they were not dressed in motley and made to look fine as a sort of reward. Even then, unless they had the maddest of music to make them mad, and what little sense they possess drowned by sound, the more desperate deeds of storming parties and forlorn hopes would be unknown. What would be thought of a man in private life who sold his existence for a shilling a day and a red coat? The wise world would clap a strait waistcoat on him and call him a lunatic; but add the ingredient of glory, and the stupid world bestows a medal and calls him a hero. Really I am almost sorry to dissipate this illusion, it seemed so grand to me once; but that was before I attained to " afraid it is useless just yet to inquire when the world will grow up into manhood. years of discretion." I am Most probably it will be said that I am a disappointed man, that this is the cynicism of envy-that I am at odds with the world and its powers. I beg to deny it. I respect the world and its powers too. I have not even said that stupidity is a bad thing. I have not attempted to degrade it. I could almost wish that I was stupid-successfully stupid of course, myself. Why should not I, when stupidity has clearly the best of it? It feels less, and it gets more. It bears without

suffering. It sits in high places. It is better off than I am. It rules me, do what I will to avoid it. Yes, I have a great respect for stupidity-almost a veneration for its social, political, commercial, and military power-nearly a worship for its riches. I have learnt to be obedient to the powers that be-and is not stupidity one of them; nay, is it not the better half of all of them put together? Verily, I proclaim it-I tender my allegiance. Do not let us trouble ourselves about who is emperor of France, or whether he is wise or foolish; or whether the people are wise or foolish, for letting him be emperor; or whether he will or will not be crowned by the Pope. There is a greater (and a stupider) monarch than he with a people to match, crowned by all the Guys of Christendom--King Dulness, the prince of this world—and you and I are his subjects, “ Vivat rex'' (and if he have a consort)" et Regina."

66

REMINISCENCES-CORPORATE AND PAROCHIAL.

BY A RETIRED MERCHANT.

CHAPTER II.

WHO can look back upon every action of his past life without regret? Mine has not been free from error. Then let not the philosophically wise exult that their heads have never been led away by their hearts. I have always used—I shall continue to use the unequivocal language of truth and sincerity.

Amongst all those pursuits to which men dedicate their powers, no avocation can be more arduous than that of attempting to excel as an orator. The qualities requisite to constitute an accomplished public speaker are so varied, that failure incites very little astonishment in the public mind. A man, to become an orator, should possess a retentive memory; without attempting to imitate an actor, he must nevertheless be master of correct gesture; his action should be graceful; the intonation of voice should be modulated to render it capable of conveying a lasting impression, whether expressive of anger, hate, scorn or contempt. Satire and repartee are serviceable adjuncts, yet they are dangerous weapons. An exordium should be concise, a peroration easy and not laboured. Language should be elegant, and the delivery devoid of ostentation. The great orator is distinguished in debate, not by a studied address. Talent is frequently displayed in the mechanism of a clever speech. To grapple with an argument without preparation, evinces talent of no mean order to defeat fallacious arguments by facts and logical reasoning, denotes the highest order of intellectual endowments. Mere fluency and declamation are pleasing accomplishments; but without the logical reasoning and judgment, elicit applause, but seldom lead to victory or lasting fame.

The greatest writers have been very inferior speakers, probably in consequence of a defect in their physical powers. Addison required energy and confidence; nature denied him these requirements, and his career as a senator was brief. Byron delivered three speeches in the House of Lords, on the Nottingham frame breakers, and then left public life for ever. Bulwer never could shine in the House of Commons when advocating the sacred cause of mankind against a heartless oligarchy; his performances have been infinitely be low

mediocrity since he threw his principles to the four winds of heaven..

Thus the first of our essayists, the most distinguished of our modern poets, and an accomplished delineator of the passions, failed as orators. Imagination, poetry, and a knowledge of language were not denied them; the page of history-the literature of the world— the efforts of orators of classic fame, were all open to them. Their lucubrations written in solitude will ever be admired by posterity, while their failures, when attempting to attain the highest pinnacle of human ambition, will be an everlasting subject of speculation to mankind. I have seen the educated, the linguist, the historian, and the philosopher shrink from a tradesman in our vestry; I have perceived victory obtained by such a person with ease and dignity, and I have been amazed at the phenomena presented. But I anticipate.

I

Seated before a fire the next morning after my defeat at the vestry, with the breakfast untasted, I fell into a profound reverie. Gazing on the bright coals, I thought of the recent scene-the stranger and my position in the ward. My blood coursed briskly through my veins, an unusual occurence in my placid nature. A glowing heat sent the hectic to my cheeks, and I felt humiliated at the disasters of the preceding day. All night I had been restless, uneasy, and unhappy; "balmy sleep" refused me repose, and Í rose early, determined to forget the chagrin I felt amidst the avocations of life. A servant entered--I did not hear him. James respectfully reminded me of my untasted breakfast. I felt angry at even the voice of my own domestic. I attempted to eat; it was impossible; and after tasting a cup of chocolate, I rose from the table with the desperate intention of proceeding to the counting house, to read the correspondence of the firm. I had drawn on my boots, and mechanically approached the window. The parish church was before me, for our place of business was opposite that sacred building; for the first time since my youth I turned from its turrets. A loud knock at the private door denoted an early visitor. Who could be the intruder? The servant announced Mr. W.-a common councilman and the orator of the preceding afternoon. Vexed at the intrusion, yet natural urbanity induced me to order him to be admitted. Mr. 'W. approached me with a downcast look; he held a large printed paper in his hand.

"Good morning, sir. Have you seen this piece of impertinence ?” handing the placard to me. I perused the title, and became purple with rage and mortification. I interrogated my supporter with abruptness; he appeared hurt and annoyed

"Where did you procure this bill, Mr. W.?"

"It was delivered at my house last evening, but by whom I cannot learn."

"Pray be seated, my dear sir, and let us peruse the precious document."

Mr. W. placed a chair by the fire, and looked anxiously at the contortion of the muscles of my face, which were alternately contracted with the spasm of scorn and the sneer of contempt.

The precious morceaux was headed :

"Defeat of the tories-extinction of church rates in A. Glorious victory!"

It was addressed to the ratepayers-being a report of the vestry meeting of the previous day, and I must confess faithfully written; but what astonished me was, that a record could be printed with such rapidity, for I could aver that not one at the meeting took a single note. But there before me appeared the document, printed in double columns. The paper ended thus:

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, I beg most respectfully to present you with the above report of the vestry meeting, held this day at the church of A., in order to incite you to the assertion of your natural and inalienable rights, to prevent the extravagant expenditure of your money, and to protect the poor. I forward this report openly, I challenge contradiction to its accuracy, I disdain concealment, and I subscribe my name. Your obedient and faithful servant, EDMUND POYNDER."

I gazed on W. for a few minutes in silence, the bill had fallen from my hand on the hearth-rug. For a few moments I felt stupefied. At length fierce uncontrollable passion obtained a momentary victory over my habitual calmness, and I stamped on the cursed document with rage. At length Mr. W. reminded me of the obvious tendency of the bill and ultimate consequences to myself and party. This reduced my frenzy to apparent good humour, and with a curl of my upper lip, I said :

"A weak invention of the enemy."

"Not so," replied W.; "on inquiry, I find that Poynder will form a party, and then away vanishes our power in the parish, the ward, and in the schools."

"Forgive me, my friend, I can perceive our danger. Who is this writer and his occupation ?"

"He has signed his real name, and he is a tradesman residing in Monk-street."

"What! a few doors from Dame Partington's school ?"

"The same.

He is induced to disturb the parish and ward in consequence of advice from several persons who unsuccessfully tendered to repair the church."

"Then it is a mean revenge. I will send the minister to this person, and I have no doubt that we shall succeed in preventing the designs of a few disappointed fellows. That arch whig, Walpole, stated that all men have their price.'

"Forgive me, sir, for hinting, that Poynder is a resolute person, a confirmed radical, and I think it is not likely that he can be induced to withdraw from those who will this evening appoint him their leader. A party meet this night at the Carthage Arms, in Carthagestreet, and the dissenters of the Liberty, headed by Symes Carbut and Co., will be in attendance. Church rates being extinguished' has aroused these 'infidels,' and-"

"What next?" I demanded fiercely.

"Why, that subscriptions will be gathered; the result you may predict."

"This is unfortunate, but we must fight this coalition. Have you heard how Mr. Bolus is this morning?"

"Alas! poor Bolus is dead; he expired at eight o'clock, and before his remains were cold, three personal applications for his office of