I also think
of a letter the too-little-known Sydney Smith wrote to Lady Georgiana Morpeth
on Feb. 16, 1820. Apparently she had made a request similar to my reader’s – an
emotional pick-me-up. Smith is a master of tact and empathy. He begins: “Nobody
has suffered more from low spirits than I have done — so I feel for you.” Then
he outlines twenty suggestions at once practical and philosophical, beginning
with: “1st. Live as well as you dare. 2nd. Go into the shower-bath with a small
quantity of water at a temperature low enough to give you a slight sensation of
cold, 75° or 80°. 3rd. Amusing books.”
Smith
suggests no titles though by 1820 Charles Lamb was already publishing his Elia
essays in The London Magazine, and
Byron had put out the early installments of Don
Juan one year earlier. Smith adds a particularly acute fourth suggestion: “4th.
Short views of human life — not further than dinner or tea.” That seems critical,
as it did to W.H. Auden, who borrowed Smith’s advice for use in the final
stanza of the Phi Beta Kappa poem he delivered at Harvard in 1946, “Under Which Lyre,” subtitled “A Reactionary Tract for the Times”:
“Thou shalt
not live within thy means
Nor on plain
water and raw greens.
If thou must
choose
Between the
chances, choose the odd;
Read The New Yorker, trust in God;
And take
short views.”
Auden must
have meant The New Yorker when A.J.
Liebling and Joseph Mitchell were on the staff. Some of Smith’s subsequent
advice recalls Dr. Johnson’s battle with melancholy. In particular, note 11 and
13, in which the practical and spiritual are merged:
“5th. Be as
busy as you can. 6th. See as much as you can of those friends who respect and
like you. 7th. And of those acquaintances who amuse you. 8th. Make no secret of
low spirits to your friends, but talk of them freely — they are always worse
for dignified concealment. 9th. Attend to the effects tea and coffee produce
upon you. 10th. Compare your lot with that of other people. 11th. Don’t expect
too much from human life — a sorry business at the best. 12th. Avoid poetry,
dramatic representations (except comedy), music, serious novels, melancholy,
sentimental people, and everything likely to excite feeling or emotion, not
ending in active benevolence. 13th. Do good, and endeavour to please everybody
of every degree. 14th. Be as much as you can in the open air without fatigue.
15th. Make the room where you commonly sit, gay and pleasant. 16th. Struggle by
little and little against idleness. 17th. Don’t be too severe upon yourself, or
underrate yourself, but do yourself justice. 18th. Keep good blazing fires.
19th. Be firm and constant in the exercise of rational religion. 20th. Believe
me, dear Lady Georgiana.”
Briefly,
consider point 12. Smith’s advice about avoiding poetry and music is a little
too general. In 2018, a dose of X.J. Kennedy and Count Basie might help. Profound
is Smith’s advice to avoid “everything likely to excite feeling or emotion, not
ending in active benevolence.” Otherwise, it’s nothing but self-centered
melodrama. Guy Davenport was a Smith enthusiast, called him “quite simply, a
good man, and example of abundant good nature,” and wrote:
“Once at
Combe Florey in Somerset, he hung oranges in the trees, for the beauty of it,
and fitted his donkeys with felt antlers, for the joke of it, and herded them
under his orange-bearing cedars, and invited the neighborhood in for cider and
fruitcake, for the fun of it.”
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