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only a part of my prescriptions; but those who obey the whole, are safe.'

The desire to excel, and obtain the favorable opinion of others, is of course inadmissible on this system, and is denounced in unequivocal terms.

An indispensable condition for obtaining happiness, is to shut the soul against ambition. If I yield to ambition, I must quit my retirement, renounce the pleasures which I derive from the society of my family and friends, and from my liberal occupations. No more delicious morning reveries! I must no more live for myself; in quitting my obscurity, I resign repose and independence.'

We may remark here that Mr Droz, notwithstanding his previous warm eulogies on the pleasures of idleness, is unable to make out a picture of a happy life for himself, without including his liberal occupations; and thus renounces inadvertently his own declared doctrine, and comes back to the one recommended by the common sense of the world, at the very moment when he is urging us to despise public opinion. But in giving this last somewhat hazardous counsel, has Mr Droz duly weighed all the consequences of the line of conduct which he advised us to pursue? Has he fully considered the well known remark of one of his own distinguished fellow countrymen upon this subject ? Il y a quelqu'un, said the Prince de Talleyrand, qui est plus fort que Napoléon, et qui a plus d'esprit que Voltaire, c'est tout le monde. There is somebody' (the language is so idiomatical as hardly to bare translation),

there is somebody who has more power than Napoleon, and more wit than Voltaire,—that is, every body.' The Prince is clearly of opinion, that this terrible somebody is not to be trifled with; and M. de Talleyrand is a person of so much talent and experience that he ought to be heard with great attention. The result has, in fact, established the truth of this remark, as far as Napoleon is concerned ; since by defying public opinion, he reduced himself from the loftiest height of fortune that any mortal ever attained, to perish miserably on a burning rock in the middle of the ocean. Is Mr Droz quite sure that his disciples, by following even the whole of his prescriptions, will come off with flying colors from a conflict that proved fatal to this political Colossus ?

• There is no danger,' replies our author, provided we are sufficiently firm and resolute. We have only to take courage, and all will be well. These are bold words, but are they proportionally just? Did courage restore to Napoleon the empire he had lost? Would it rescue an overdone tailor from the hospital, replace him in his shop, and gather round him anew his train of offended customers ? Will courage feed and clothe a poor man and his family? Will it pay his rent, and serve him to settle his weekly bill at the baker's and the butcher's? Can he deposit courage in the savings bank? We all know that courage, though an excellent thing in its place, will answer none of these purposes. The error of Mr Droz, in this part of his system, seems to be, in taking it for granted that the only unpleasant effect of despising others, is to be despised by them in turn; a moral evil, against which the moral remedy, courage, might be expected to afford some relief. Populus me sibilat, at mihi plaudo. But the real objection to the theory is (as we have already shown), that contempt for public opinion brings upon a man material and physical ruin in all its worst shapes; and this is a case in which the moral specific, recommended by our author, loses all its virtue ;

"Who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
Or wallow naked in December's snows,

By dreaming on fantastic summer's heat?' But as we wish to give our author every advantage in the argument, that he can possibly desire, let us meet him on his own ground; and in order to try with precision the correctness of his doctrine, as he understands it, let us suppose an example, in which the immediate consequences of contempt for public opinion, are in fact no more than to encounter in turn the contempt of the public. Let us take the case of a schoolboy, or a student at college, who happens to meet with The Art of Being Happy, and finds himself exhorted to cultivate a habit of idleness, as the best method of attaining this desirable object; and to despise the opinion of the world, or, in other words, to disregard the advice and reproof of his parents and instructers, which might probably be opposed to our author's system.

•Why,' says Mr Droz, ' waste your precious hours, and wear out your young eyes, in fagging over old books?

Why immure yourself this fine weather in a close and crowded school? It is surely far pleasanter to pursue your sports with your merry mates in the open

Your instructers and parents may, perhaps, reprove you for absence, or for keeping at the foot of the class, and some of your fellow students may possibly ridicule your stupidity. But why should you regard the prosing of a musty old pedagogue, or the gibes of a group of thoughtless boys ? Of what consequence is it to you, whether you take your place at one end or the other of the file, in which they are drawn up to recite ? Be of good heart, and if they laugh at you, laugh at them in turn. Take your own course; be idle and be happy."

air upon the green.

This doctrine would sound pretty well in the ears of our supposed pupil

, who would also find no difficulty in reducing it to practice. Nor would he suffer immediately in this case, in consequence of his contempt for public opinion, any considerable diminution of his material comforts. The sunshine of paternal affection, like that of Providence, illuminates (for a while, at least,) with equal favor the evil and the good; and our young idler would probably be fed, clothed, and lodged, as well as his busier brothers and sisters. For a few days, the experiment might appear to have perfectly succeeded. But when examination comes, at the week's end; when our infant Epicurean sees the prizes for good behavior and superior attainments, distributed to others, and nothing awarded to himself but notes of infamy; when the honored father looks coldly on him, and the kind mother has no smile of consolation, while the merry and mischievous urchins about him are all in high glee, at his expense;–

Mr Droz may say what he pleases about courage, but we are after all not stocks and stones; nature, we apprehend, would have her

way,
and

in spite of scorn, Tears, such as schoolboys weep, burst forth.' But grant the contrary; grant that our little philosopher brazens it out manfully, and gives no external signs of palling in resolution. Grant that he shows all the courage that Mr Droz could desire; that he proves himself a hero, a martyr in the cause; grant this, and what follows? Is martyrdom happiness? The precise object of our author, as we understand it, is to avoid painful efforts of all kinds, and lead an easy, sans souci life; but we are now called upon to exercise courage, fortitude, and longsuffering, in order to be able to endure his Epicurean paradise. Does not our author feel, that the call for courage supposes of itself

, that we are in presence of pain and difficulty, instead of ease and pleasure? Does it require so much fortitude to support prosperity ? so much longsuffering, to bear up under a course of uninterrupted happiness? Does a man brace his nerves, and steel his heart, to encounter a comfortable fire, a good dinner, and a circle of smiling friends? Our author invites us to recline upon a bed of roses, and when we accept his proffer, and put ourselves into his hands, he stretches us out upon St Lawrence's gridiron. This result agrees sufficiently with the moral of the ancient apologues of the strait and the broad ways, the rocky and the flowery paths, that conduct respectively to life and death ; but we hardly expected to hear the same doctrine from Mr Droz. In this, as in the other instance, the latter end of our author's commonwealth forgets the beginning.

It appears, therefore, by the admission of Mr Droz, that the contempt of public opinion, which he so strongly recommends, leads to nothing better than the crown of martyrdom ; a situation to which, however enviable it may be, in some respects and in some causes, few would aspire as the ne plus ultra of ease and comfort. On the other hand, the feeling of respect for the judgment of the world, which leads us to endeavor to excel in such arts and qualities as may render us agreeable and useful to others, does not seem to be productive of any equally serious inconveniences. The apprehensions of our author in regard to this point are, we think, exaggerated. In quitting my obscurity,' says he, “I resign, at the same time, repose and independence. No more delicious morning reveries ; I must no longer" live for myself.' If, by repose and independence, as the words are here used, our author mean complete idleness ; if he have no other notion of happiness, than that of turning every morning for two or three hours in his bed, as a door turneth on its hinges, there is, of course, nothing more to be said. Happiness, thus refined, is doubtless incompatible with honorable distinction, in any line of life; but even on this view of the subject, it might be pertinently asked, whether the sacrifice of ease, required by respect for public opinion, be worse than the martyrdom which it seems we must suffer by despising it. If, however, our author means, by repose and independence, what men of sense generally intend by these words, that is, rest after labor, and the occupying of a favorable and commanding position in society, we conceive that these advantages, instead of being incompatible with the attainment of honorable distinction, are its natural consequences and rewards. Persons of eminence in the various walks of life, are doubtless much employed because the value of their services is known; but this, to a man of right feeling, to one whose heart is in his business, is not dependence and drudgery, as Mr Droz seems to think it; 'tis itself a pleasure, labor ipse voluptas. The

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healthy excitement of arguing an important case and thereby securing the rights of an injured fellow citizen, of pleading the cause of truth and justice before the assembled councils of a nation, affords a pleasure, if our author did but know it, which would be well worth the sacrifice of one of his brightest morning dreams.

As to independence, does our author mean to be understood, that a person who has attained a high distinction in any honorable pursuit, is less favorably situated in the usual relations of social life, than those about him? On our view of the subject, such a person is par excellence the truly independent man.

He can do for each individual, what no individual can do for him. His convenience, therefore, must be consulted by all. If he choose to labor, he selects the time, the place, and the manner, at his discretion. The favored mortal for whom he works, is too happy in obtaining his aid, to pretend to have an opinion about the manner in which it is to be given. He performs himself the interesting and important parts of the task, and assigns the rest to subalterns. When he has finished, he sets his price upon what he has done, and whatever it may be, it is paid with a sentiment of gratitude, and not of superiority. What citizen of the United States did not feel himself deeply obliged, when Canova and Chantrey sent us out their admirable images of the majestic form of the father of our country? Who ever dreamed, that the service was in any way requited by the payments which these illustrious men may have consented to receive in return? It is easy to judge of this by the tone and language employed on these occasions. Here, my worthy fellow,' (such, in substance is the manner in which we apply to an ordinary hand) “here is a piece of work, which I am willing to put into your hands, if you will perform it at a reasonable rate; if not, I shall give it to some one else, for there are enough others who can do it as well. When we address an artist or professional person of eminence, the style is different.

My noble friend, I am in the greatest possible embarrassment, and you are the only person who can extricate me from it. Your assistance is indispensable to me. Let me beg you to undertake the business, and make your own terms.' Who, then, in such a case, is the dependent, and who the independent man? Mr Droz certainly takes a false view of this matter. Independence is peculiarly the attribute of those, who enjoy a merited distinction in any department of agreeable or useful labor. As they pass through the world, they are constantly distributing

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