The Press. — London, England, 1855-12-22 00:00:00

THE PRESS. . . facts. Even the genial, warmhearted Robert Cooke could not smile that day. After dinner lie drank to the advent of another Layard, and the discovery of another Nineveh The successors of Colburn, as they looked on their loaded shelves, thought of tempting the author to try his hand at that more orthodox style of romance connected in their minds with three slim volumes—an exciting love story, and a hero free from asthma. The publishers of Dr. Cumming wrote oft to him that if he hoped his next volume to float he must fix a near day for the end of the world he had so long been predicting. The house of "Little Dorrit" found little comfort as they looked in their sale-book. A number of respectable firms agreed to issue no new work for nine days, conceiving that all competition with the literary wonder would for that long period be impossible. The enmity of a more dangerous class had to be met. All Grub street was in commotion. What would become of their trade if books continued to be published without a flaw ? The novelty must be put down. Scurrility must be made to supply the place of wit, and libel of truth. The elements of conspiracy were ready. The will was not wanting, but the means failed. Grub-street had of late years been shorn of its strength. Lockhart had died in a mean lodging at Pad dington. Croker had slunk into an almshouse in some obscure village. Christopher North, too poor to buy a crutch, had perished miserably bedridden. Thackeray had fled his country. Phillips had died in a sponging-house. Of the critics who remained—the easy Reeve was friendly, the feeble Elwyn was timid. At the moment of its greatest need Grub-street looked in vain for its natural leaders. What was to be done ? Some of its most wretched hacks sent abusive critiques to the papers. They were returned with an intimation that only panegyric would suit. The miserable creatures felt • that they were powerless. For once they earned their wages honestly, and their prostituted pens celebrated the success of learning and genius. There was no longer thought of opposition. The triumph of the author was complete. The enthusiasm of the metropolis spread to the provinces. The boy at the plough-tail real, as he plodded through the fallow, how the great Lewis had been conquered by the greater William. Book societies and lending-libraries were in full activity. Mudie boasted that he took a thousand copies. The pro digious sale set an enormous amount of coin in circulation, to the great advantage of the whole kingdom. Booksellers throve. Authors hoped. Publishers recovered from their panic. The whole land rang with congratulation, and hailed the great w.)rk as the dawn of a more than Augustan age in British literature. PEACE OR WAR. Well, will it be Peace, or not be Peace? Is the horrid clamour of War to cease? Ministerial papers cackle like geese, While Belgian journals, and those of Greece, And of Pumpernickel (whose Duchess is niece To the Czar of Russia—Czar kre, not fits), Declare the terms offered to Drouyn de Lhuys And Lord John, and rejected from sheer caprice, Are the only terms for insuring Peace. But what says the Times, our own great* Times, Which circulates in all lands and dimes, And knows everything—but is wrong sometimes — And pronounces on politics, war, and rhymes, And anticipates juries' verdicts on crimes, And twists and turns, and crawls and climbs, And aye with the tone of the populace chimes — Oh, what says the Times, the wonderful Times ? Well, the Times is puzzled and in a fright, And really don't know what on earth to write : The Times, in short, is bamboozled quite, And is ready to foam and burst with spite, • Great—large, big, bulky.—Johneon'a Dictionary. TEEMS OF 8' little weight. They must be settled by a comparison of powers, in which the stronger demand all they can, and the weaker yield as little as they can help. This is a doctrine little likely ever to find favour in this country. As applied to the present contest, it means that, though we engaged in war for the sake of justice, we are to forget justice the instant that hostilities commenced. There might have been a right or a wrong before the quarrel broke out ; but there is no right or wrong now, except as one party is stronger than the other. Common sense will repudiate this doctrine as absurd, and right feeling will denounce it as diabolical Fortunately there are clearer perceptions of right and wrong in the world; and hence it happens that there is commonly in the end a preponderance of guropean strength enlisted on the side of justice, though that side might be the weaker before its claims received re cognition and support. In fact, it is only by keeping justice in view that we can hope to bring wars to a close; and it is by the repudia tion of the odious'doctrine quoted above that the States of the modern present so great a contrast to the States of the ancient world, and that the smaller nations of the European cora tuon*ealth preserve their independence. 1.: • rbe IOreZZ: (srirEn.) .. L 1 6 0 .. 0 18 0 .. 0 8 6 Payable in advance. Subscribers are requested to send their Orders through their News Agent; if direct to the °Mee, accompanied by a remit tance. Advertisements ale.) must have n reference or remittance. Money Orden to be made pa) able to Mr. ALFRED iVE, 110, bulan , l. London. ; - i - 4 -4) x 21 ritg g. LONDON, SATURDAY, DEC. 22, 1855. POSTSCRIPT. NEW WAR DOCTRINE. Ova attention has been called to some leading remarks which appeared in a contemporary on the 10th of December last nere they are : Between hostile nations which have once drawn the urtgcli! 0 hellt4es oi. ore 4 f 1 1440, im'ci .by .0 IN._ Per Annum .. Half-Yearly .. Quarterly 1218 For tho' to our Premier it's very polite, tie keeps his own counsel as "dark" as night, Despising his treacherous Parasite. Scorning its power, and mocking its might, And taking, perchance, a jocose delight Tn watching it groping in vain for light, Fishing for news, but not getting a bite, Tho' it cunningly labours to incite Our coy young Premier's appetite For praise from his two-tongued proselyte, And almost threatens to turn and smite If the journal's assistance he won't invite. So the Times talks nothing but twaddle trite — That war, in sooth, is a scourge and blight, But the cause is holy for which we fight ; That Peace with Plenty's a pleasant sight, But that black is black, and that white ist white. This, with a sneer or two at Bright, And the quantum of Billingsgate requisite Showered on our generals, wrong or right, Is all that the Times can dare indite, Which it does with a gravity exquisite, For its imprudence is by no means slight, But, like its venality, infinite. But what says the Post, our dear old Post, The paper that comes up with eggs and toast To the breakfast-tables of all, or most, Who affect to belong to Fashion's host, And in doubtful grammar delights to boast That it's Pam's own paper, who rules the roast— Oh, what says the dear old drivelliug Post .1 Well, the Post says little of Peace or War, Till Pam chooses to say which he enters for. Then 'twill be time for the Post to begin, Now 'tis engrossed with Lord Durham's twin — The elder, of course, who will be the Earl, And who wears (the Post tells us) a gem of real pearl, And not of the kind that folks call mother, To distinguish the Viscount from his brother. It thinks it its duty this fact to state, As journals quite ignorant of the great Have had the audacity to declare That a necklace of turquoise betokened the heir.: But what say the People? We care not a boddle§ For the Times's fury or Post's weak twaddle ; Rogues may storm and asses may bray, But what do the sensible People say? Well, they say that the War was right and just, That Wrong must be trampled in the dust; But that War in itself is no holy thing. Nor men's lives mere puppets, of which the string Is held by Placemen at home to guide, Just as it suits their passions or pride ; That the goal once reached, each drop of blood Causelessly shed for party good, That all the hearths left desolate, That all who weep the cruel fate Of son, or sire, or husband slain, Will cry to Heaven—and not in vain— If selfish men prolong the fray When War's sole plea has passed away. 4. Except when the editor of the Times asserts white to be black and black white, in which case his fiat is ell-sufficient to cause a triinsmutation of those colours. t See the Morning Post of a week or two back for full particulars of the nursery arrange ments of the noble young Lembsons. I The sixth of a penny.—Sir Walter Scott. Cabinet Councils were held on Thursday and Friday afternoons, at the Foreign Office. The Ministers present were Viscount Palmerston, the Lord Chancellor, the Marquis of Lansdowne, Earl Granville, the Earl of Harrowhy, Sir George Grey, the Earl of Clarendon, Mr. Secretary Laboucherb, Lord Panmine, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Charles Wood, the Right Hon. R. Vernon Smith, Lord Stanley of Alderley, the Right Hon. M. T. Baines, and the Duke of Argyll. The Council set two hours and a half on each occasion. The Cabinet Ministers met on Thursday at the War Department. There were present Lord Gran ville, Lord Palmerston, and Lord Paprpgre. The meeting sat two hours. A despatch from Berlin, vie Paris, asserts that the Emperor of Russia has, through Pount Munster, returned an answer to the letter of the King of Prus sia, advising the acceptation of the tents °tared by the allied powers. The Emperor Alexstider is said to state that, if be wished, I e could not agree to the demands of the Western powers, the nature of which he was perfectly familar with, although they had not reached him in an otikial form. The Swedish Ambassador at Vienna is said also to have formally announced to the Auxtrian Minister for foreign Affairs, that his Cabinet adbetes II) the views of the Western . iplowers in regard to the OUT vointof guarantoel _ I SATURDAY, 1