254 Familrarities— Anonymous. (Serr. 
frequently falls still-born from the lip ; we think of an alderman, or an 
actor, but seldom of any thing in the shape of sentiment. A name once 
consecrated to genius and intellect should be .confined, by royal procla- 
mation, to. noble uses. On the other hand, one.is curious to know 
whence such persons as Mr. Pearl and Mr. Hope, and, Miss. Bird and 
Miss Love derive their designations; such names are positively an 
enviable. inheritance. Mr. Grieve and.Miss. Anguish are altogether 
as hardly dealt by. What a burst and depth of language are in the word 
Napoleon! It takes away one’s breath. It lies in the hushed recollec- 
tions of kings like a spent thunderbolt.—And this would lead us to 
expend our stock of exclamation on the more than_phrenzy and worse 
than folly of the mere ambitionist—the evanescent brilliancy of “ the 
bubble reputation”—the < glory and the nothing” of a right-honourable 
name. . We cling to the semblance of fame, and fancy we haye secured 
a divinity; as the Tyrians, to prevent Apollo from deserting them, 
chained up the statue of the god and nailed it to its pedestal. We load 
our pen or purse—take aim at a project or a problem, and listen with 
transport to the echoes in the hollow hearts of men. We find the 
tribute to valour in the homage of cowards; the reward of efforts for 
freedom in the admiration of slaves; the appreciation of wisdom and 
poetry in the “sweet voices” of the frivolous and the ignorant: like the 
Roman capitol, we owe our preservation to the cackling of a foolish 
bird. In what are we wiser than Narcissus, when we thus fall in love with 
our own image reflected ina name! There have been (must it be said 
there. are?) instances where men have purchased a name, with the 
labours of youth and the exercise of splendid talents, only to ring it as 
a death-knell in the ears of the compassionate and sensitive. The genius 
of these aliens to true glory is akin to the cunning of the animal that 
ascends a tree, in order to drop on the neck of its unsuspecting prey. 
But a. good name—one made illustrious by the union of intellect 
and integrity—by the enlargement of the views of man and the advocacy 
of his independence—is a triumphal arch that will endure amid the wreck 
of matter.- It is a sound that will outlive the clashing of swords and 
the clank of chains. It will shine like a beacon light upon the records 
of time, and may burn when distant ages are dim. And even the little 
halo which an observance of the simple charities of life will breathe 
round the humblest name, may have a lustre and a warmth that will dawn 
upon the mind in its wintriest and most desolate season. But the light 
must be vigilantly watched ; for unless we are provided with the patent 
safety-lamp of fame, the very breath which was meant to vivify, may 
extinguish the flickering hope. Like the happy ancient, we may throw 
our ring into the sea, and be as discontented as 1826 can make us; but 
I know of no fish in these days that would restore it to our finger—even 
though Izaac Walton should. come back in person to show us how 
to angle, and instruct us in the admired mystery of breaking a frog’s legs 
“as if we loved it.” 
But, after all, what an enviable lot is his who sits down under a volun- 
tary nominis umbra, and still receives his sunny dividends at the bank of 
popularity—“ eats of his own vine what he plants”—places his Jaurel- 
crown at his elbow, ready to put on when he pleases—listens to the odd 
comparisons and speculations he has provoked—hears himself mistaken 
for Prince Hohenlohe or Mr. Irving, and drinks his own health after- 
wards with the most cordial sincerity at a public dinner. He fancies 
