The Sun.
London, England, 1834-02-01 00:00:00

TAIT'S MAGAZINE.

Our friend Tait has grown taller and thinner
since his late reduction in price ; he has added
" six cubits" to his outward Adam, though his
inner remains pretty much where it was. The
present number is one of average excellence ;
containing, however, one or two very superior
articles. Among them we may notice " Sketches
of Life and Manners," from the pen, we pre-
sume, of De Quincy—a writer who mixes up
humour with learning in a very piquant manner;
and the " Decline and Fall of the Empire of
Fashion," a spirited diatribe, which is likely to
do some service. The character of " Lord
Althorp" is well portrayed, though in rather
an inimical spirit. We subjoin a specimen,
descriptive of the Noble Lord's first speech on
the Irish Coercion Bill
The grand field-day arrived ;—the Bill was brought
from the Lords, and the Commons were in great excite-
ment and expectation. At length Lord Altborp rose to
move that the Bill be read : and it was plain the members
on the ministerial benches, and the Tories also, were like
the women who went to see Mrs. Siddons,—prepared for
floods of tears. The gentlemen settled themselves omi-
nously. It was evident to any one who knew anything of
human nature, that a scene had been prepared, and was
just about to be enacted. The Noble Lord began in his
usual hesitating, unimpressive, common-place manner.
The pocket•bandkerchiefs were evidently ready ; but as
yet there was no excuse for crying. The Noble Lord pro-
ceeded, and at last began his endeavours at horror creating.
They who caine to cry began to feel awkward. There
was evidently no case for tears. The Noble Lord tried his
hand at rhetoric—it would not do :—as a last resource,
he remembered he was Chancellor of the Exchequer, and
that figures were consequently his weapons, not figures of
speech, mind, good reader, but units and tens,—so he
opened his official box, and drew from thence a statement.
Instead of horrifying the House with vivid decriptions of
atrocities, he coolly ran over the number of murders, &c.—
murders, so many,—ditto, in the day-time so many,—so
many burglaries,—so many ravishings, and so on. The
House came to cry ; they now were inclined to laugh.
The official people below the bar were terror-stricken ;
they shrugged their shoulders, and turned up their eyes.
Mr. O'Connell crowed again,—his eyes sparkled with
pleasure, and his cheer became triumphant and deafening.
Poor Mr. Stanley ! he was as pale as a ghost be bit his
lips, put his heels, like a Yankee, on the table, close by
his Noble Colleague ; and at last, in his rage, fairly snatched
the box of papers out of his hands, shut it with a loud
bang, and locked it ; as much as to say, " You shall not
spoil excellent materials ; you are ruining us." The noble
Lord seemed startled by this angry proceeding, and
hastened to the close of his speech. When he sat down,
the House was a dead blank ; there was a painful silence
among the great majority, who wanted an excuse of
horrors for their intended votes, and who felt that this
afforded none. During the whole night the debate
laboured on against this painful disappointment ; and not
t►ll both Mr. Stanley and Sir R. Peel had properly dished
up the horrors, could the House forget the statement of
the Chancellor of the Exchequer."