Will Lord Denman permit me to take this opportunity of most respectfully expressing the unaffected gratification with which I have listened to the chorus of applause and admiration, which rung throughout the length and breadth of the land, in honour of his retirement from public life? It is scarcely possible to imagine a more enviable termination to a long career of useful and arduous service. . . . .
| 314 | MEMOIR OF REV. F. HODGSON. |
Your copious and welcome dispatch makes me quite ashamed of my poor, meagre, starveling missive! I have received χρύσεα χαλκείων, έκατόμβοιʹ έννεαβοίων. I hasten to acknowledge how much I remain your debtor. I can scarcely describe to you how much we were all annoyed and troubled by the complication of circumstances which have disabled your admirable Magister Informator from accepting the position, so frankly and honourably tendered to him. The large heart, the open hand, the princely taste for literary treasure—these have been his faults—if faults they can be deemed. I can regard them only as the excuses of a noble spirit. Only if there be such a bump in craniology as the bump of calculation, one can hardly help wishing that such bump had been somewhat more amply developed in his phrenology! The disappointment, I dare say, will not break his manly spirit. But, the continued anxiety and toil! How many years longer will the physical man be able to bear up against that incessant demand? Be all this as it may, I beseech you to offer him the expression of my most respectful and most cordial wishes and regards.
The great pending question has, of course, ROMAN CATHOLIC DISSENT. 315
| 316 | MEMOIR OF REV. F. HODGSON. |
Finally, you love golden words dearly, I know. Here are a very few, which I have lately met with, from the once world-famous Pico di Mirandola:—
Veritatem Philosophia quaerit. “
Theologia invenit. “
Religio possidet. |
The year 1851 bids fair to be an Annus Mirabilis indeed! To say nothing of Crystal Palaces, and monster toy-shops, and Œcumenical Councils of the human race, it seems likely to be eternally infamous for the triumph of triple crowns and red hats! The infatuation or the perfidy of our statesmen and Parliamentary counsellors almost surpasses belief. When, in short, was there ever such a labyrinth of follies and blunders? And what—humanly speaking—but a dissolution offers the smallest chance of extrication from it? A much longer continuance of such an interregnum of confusion must be almost enough to render Parliament contemptible in the eyes of the people.
I do not know whether you are aware of a very remarkable
and original speech, delivered in the A SPANISH ’MONTALEMBERT.’ 317
Well,—and now for the year 1852! A happy
| 318 | MEMOIR OF REV. F. HODGSON. |
But the Coup
d’État!—had you any conception that Napoleon III. was such an Olympian wielder of
the thunder-hammer? Waiving all question as to the moral
and political merits or demerits of this tour de force,
it is impossible to deny the consummate mastery of its execution. Never did the
bolts of Heaven fall more suddenly. On the 18th Brumaire, An. viii, Napoleon I. exclaimed, ‘I am the God of
thunder.’ But, all things considered, what was his thunder
compared with that of his nephew? And, then, comes the question,—What
does the thunder portend to us, and to all Christendom? We scarcely dare to ask
ourselves. It really seems as if the vast Political Pendulum were destined to
swing tempestuously, backwards and forwards, between Despotism and Anarchy, to
the very ‘crack of doom,’ without ever resting for a moment at the
safe intermediate point of Consti-NAPOLEON III. 319
Most devoutly is it to be wished that your version of the Dictator’s ambition may be the right one. He may, doubtless, himself aspire to a higher glory than that of ‘my uncle’—the glory of being immortalised as the Napoleon of Peace. But will the Army let him? Will they be content with the honours of a vast Police, with bayonets in their hands instead of constable’s staves? Alas! my dreams are of Armageddon! A huge thundercloud seems to be hovering over Europe, and who can think of its bursting without terror?
