sfortunes, for, perhaps, it was sufficient
to console them. In the midst of the most affecting passage in the most
wonderful work, perhaps, ever produced, for the mixture of universal
thought with individual interest--I mean the two last cantos of Childe
Harold--the poet warms from himself at his hopes of being remembered

"'In his line With his land's language.'

"And who can read the noble and heart-speaking apology of Algernon
Sidney, without entering into his consolation no less than his
misfortunes? Speaking of the law being turned into a snare instead of
a protection, and instancing its uncertainty and danger in the times of
Richard the Second, he says, 'God only knows what will be the issue
of the like practices in these our days; perhaps he will in his mercy
speedily visit his afflicted people; I die in the faith that he will do
it, though I know not the time or ways.'"

"I love," said Clarendon, "the enthusiasm which places comfort in so
noble a source; but, is vanity, think you, a less powerful agent than
philanthropy? is it not the desire of shining before men that prompts
us to whatever may effect it? and if it can create, can it not also
support? I mean, that if you allow that to shine, to eclater, to enjoy
praise, is no ordinary incentive to the commencement of great works, the
conviction of future success for this desire becomes no inconsiderable
reward. Grant, for instance, that this desire produced the 'Paradise
Lost,' and you will not deny that it might also support the poet through
his misfortunes. Do you think that he thought rather of the pleasure his
work should afford to posterity, than of the praises posterity should
extend to his work? Had not Cicero left us such frank confessions of
himself, how patriotic, how philanthropic we should have esteemed him;
now we know both his motive and meed was vanity, may we not extend
the knowledge of human nature which we have gained in this instance
by applying it to others? For my part, I should be loth to inquire how
great a quantum of vanity mingled with the haughty patriotism of Sidney,
or the unconquered spirit of Cato."

Glanville bowed his head in approval. "But," observed I, "why be so
uncharitable to this poor, and persecuted principle, since none of you
deny the good and great actions it effects; why stigmatize vanity as a
vice, when it creates, or, at least participates in, so many virtues? I
wonder the ancients did not erect the choicest of the