1827.] [ 63 ] 



LETTER UPON AFFAIRS IN GENERAL, FROM A GENTLEMAN IN 

 LONDON TO A GENTLEMAN IN THE COUNTRY. 



Give me a brick, Sir, for my bolster ; 



Ail armourer is my upholster. , Cjunter-Rat. 



WAR " horrid war !" has driven all other matters out of men's heads 

 here since the 12th of this last month. In the House of Commons, 

 Mr. Hume, and his calculations together, with one long, simultaneous, 

 unceremonious groan even from the Opposition, have been voted a 

 " bore" Corn disputes, currency questions, and measures of economy, 

 and all such fitting topics for a " piping time " of leisure, have been 

 sent pell-mell to the devil. -The whole of the leading people on the 

 cot& gauche have behaved nobly ; and Mr. Baring, as the representative 

 of the mercantile interest, in a most sound and constitutional speech, 

 and Mr. Brougham, as the organ of the Wh'g aristocracy, in a short 

 speech, the effect of which, however, was absolutely tremendous, both 

 agreed, that to doubt the capability of England to sustain a war, or the 

 propriety of its instantly, under the existing circumstances, making ac- 

 tive preparations for one, would be to compromise our own safety as an 

 independent nation, and to disgrace ourselves in the eyes of Europe for 

 ever. All the speeches on this occasion except the opening, upon the 

 " message " were short. The general feeling seemed to be, that it was 

 time now to be actingnot shaping sentences, and talking. Mr. Brough- 

 am's speech was one~/)f the most impressive that ever I heard even him 

 deliver. There was not one word in it that was not straight to the point ; 

 and the manner was even more powerful than the substance spoken. I 

 certainly never saw or heard any man except, perhaps, Kean the actor, 

 in some of his most successful efforts whose points seemed visibly to tell 

 upon his audience falling like the huge strokes of some vast machine 

 that drives piles, or beats out native iron like those of the member for 

 Winchelsea. The thing as a mere exhibition is worth travelling an 

 hundred miles to see. It is not eloquence unless thunder be eloquence. 

 It is real power, of the most terrific calibre, applied to and moving the 

 real affairs of life. 



Of course, it would be absurd here to attempt any speculation as to 

 the probable results of the impending contest ; but the very jobbing in 

 the Greek Committee never was more transparent than the necessity for 

 undertaking it. How far circumstances should have led us to interfere 

 two years back, when the French first occupied Spain, may be matter of 

 question ; but, as that measure has operated, I am quite sure we ought 

 not to regret any emergency which (in good time) re-raises the point 

 between ourselves and France. There is a fable, about " a bitch that lent 

 her kennel." I don't recollect whether it is in j?Esop or Phaedrus; but it 

 is a very good one; and it seems to me to have been written very much 

 with a view to cases like the present. I can't give the precise words ; 

 but it goes something to the following effect : 



" A bitch that was heavy with whelp caine to another bitch, who had 

 a convenient kennel, and begged leave, because she was poor and house- 

 less, to lie in, and bring forth her puppies in it. The wealthy bitch, who 

 was of an easy temper, consented, and gave up her kennel, allowing the 

 other to take possession. In about two months, however, the owner of 



