1831.] C 293 ] 



THE LONDON-BRIDGE LION. 



Great events are great nuisances. There is no exception to this rule — 

 they are all alike in their effects. Good or bad, they are the same. 

 Whatever the " great event" may be — whether the coming of the 

 cholera, or the importation of a red-American Indian Paganini — the 

 turning of a statesman's coat, or of a mayor into a baronet — the loss of 

 a colony, or the elopement of a countess — a new parliament, or a new 

 prima-donna — it affects society in the same way. No matter what occa- 

 sions the earthquake, the convulsion produces the same degree of an- 

 noyance in all cases ; — in setting people's tongues going ! That is all I 

 have to complain of — and that I shall not cease to complain of for the 

 rest of my listening existence — which will be short enough ; for people 

 whose ears are not inveterately shut, may be talked to death, at a 

 sight-engendering season like this, in a surprisingly short space of time. I 

 have no invincible objection to '^ sights" myself: on the contrary, I 

 would give what is called " a trifle" to be present even at an economical 

 coronation, and see a ceremony by which a king will gain a crown, 

 though it will scarcely cost the country one. I would have paid some- 

 thing to have seen the patriotic running-match in Belgium — and would 

 most certainly have given, not " something," but " anything," to have 

 had one brief, one momentary glimpse of the Hollanders, when, for the 

 first time since the creation of small-clothes, they took to their heels, and 

 ran after the illustrious racers. But this is a part of the tale of chivalry 

 ■which I have not yet been thoroughly able to comprehend. A running 

 Dutchman, or even a walJdng Dutchman, is a thing that I can form no 

 notion of; and if King Leopold wishes to shew any gratitude to the 

 people of this country, he should try and catch one in the fact, pack 

 him up in a cask, and send him over here directed to the Egyptian Hall. 

 Him would I rush to see, though the Siamese and Simias called to me in 

 vain. I repeat, that I am not naturally averse to " sights ;" but I have 

 an invincible objection to the histories of them. I know no reason why 

 people should not see as much as they can — I only complain of their 

 keeping their mouths open, as well as their eyes. I can have no desire 

 to control their taste ; let them go every night to hear my Lord London- 

 derry ; but let them not break upon my balmy morning-slumber, to tell 

 rae the " heads" of speeches that were actually made without any. Let 

 them also, if they like modern comedies, abandon all other narcotics, 

 and doze over them till they are delighted ; but why should they come 

 to us when they wake, and inflict " plots" upon us, compared to the 

 atrocity of which Guy Fawkes's was Howard-like and innocent ! 



Certainly of all talkers your sight-hunters are the worst, collectively 

 at least, if not individually ; because they all rush simultaneously to tell 

 you the same thing- The prosers, whom Cowper describes as devoting 

 their hours of health to minute histories of every symptom of their sick- 

 ness, are bad enough, taken separately ; but then they do not all come 

 with the same tale. 



" They thought they should have died, they were so bad; 

 Their peevish hearers almost wish they had " — 



And if the poet had said " quite," I should have been disposed to 

 forgive the want of music in the line, for the sake of its increased moral 

 beauty. Your only chance with them is in a variation of the complaint. If 



