The Sun.
London, England, 1835-02-21 00:00:00

DEPARTURES.

Sir Edward Stanhope, Bart., from Warren's Hotel, Regent-
street, for his seat, Home Lacy, Herefordshire ; Edward Con-
greve, Esq., from the St. James's Hotel, Jermyn-street, for
Berks; William Davenport, Esq., from ditto, for Cheshire ;
Lovell Lovell, Esq., from the Pulteney Hotel, Albemarle-
street, for Wells; Captain and Mrs. Riley, from Park-lane,
for Brighton; Mr. and Mrs. William Pole, from Regent-
street, for their seat in Devonshire; Mr. and Miss Miller,
from Morley's Hotel, Trafalgar-square, for Canterbury Col.
Elliott, from ditto, for ditto ; Rev. G. Bidwell and family,
from ditto, for Suffolk ; V. Moett, Esq., for Epernay, France;
Hon. Augustus Berkeley, from the Albion Hotel, Cock.spur,
street, for Chichester ; Rev. Mr. McDonogh, from ditto, for
St. Albans; William Griffith, Esq., from do, for Leamington.

THE MODERN BABYLON.

(From a Tale just published, entitled The Exile Of Erin; or,

the Sorrows of a Bashful Irishman.)

Behold me now in London—in that Titanic metropolis
which is the envy and wonder of Europe ; the heavings of
whose mighty heart thrill to the uttermost regions of earth;
whose merchant-flag is familiar with every wave, and streams
in every port ; who is the prolific foster.parent of all arts, all
professions, and all trades, encouraging alike the adept and
the quack, the honest man and the knave, and Combining ex-
haustless wealth with abject penury, the most refined civiliza-
tion with the grossest barbarism; behold Mc iA this pars
of a metropolis, placed in the very thick of its crowd, yet op-
pressed with feelings of the most forlorn solitude. Oh 1 there
is no sense of desolation so complete as that experienced by a
friendless stranger, on his first introduction to London. Talk
of an Arabian desert ! It is smiling_animated_.encouraging

compar*n.
T
meet a frown on every brow, a sneer on every lip ; to be
distrusted as an adventurer, and, with the purest Intentions, to
be perpetually misconstrued; to supplicate, where there are
few or none to pity; to die of a broken heart in the midst of
rejoicing; of famine, ih tile midst of plenty ; and then, as if
the cup of wretchedness were not drained to the dregs, to be
Carried out of a workhbuse on four rough boards ; flung like a
dog into his hole, with just a prayer or two mumbled coldly
and hurriedly above one's remains, as if they were scarce worth
salvation ;—this it is to be poor and friendless in London !
To be the idol of every circle; to drivel like a fool, yet to
be pronounced a tagn ; to be a gentleman, when It is manifest
you are his antipodes ; to see woman's eye light up at your
approach, and the fat porter at the great man's gate, bustle
forward at the hazard of his neck to usher you into the great
man's presence ; to be the " Sir Oracle" of ton, and the hero
of a fashionable novel ; to be painted by Lawrence, and en-
graved by Finden ; and when put to death by a licensed phy-
sician, to be followed to your long home by some dozen
agonised acquaintandes, while the pafsen prays his best above
your gilt coffin, and a splendid mausoleum records your worth
to all posterity ;—this it is to be wealthy and well connected
in London I
Oh London, thou art the rich man's Heaven, but the poor
man's Hell !
Oh London, who art the cradle and the grave of Hope, how
many aspiring pilgrims,isome destined to achieve celebrity,
but more to die neglected and broken-hehrted, are at this mo-
ment, while I write, bending their steps towards thee ! What
acts of folly, madness, and guilt, are at the same instant of time
in course of perpetration within thy circuit 1 Yet if sin pro-
fane thy name, the virtues, sure, redeem it by their presence.
Lo, thou can§t boast Humility in lawn sleeves; meek Charity
making public announcement of her benefactions ; Modesty
gazing at some half-denuded dancer through an opera-glass ;
and Patriotism defending the pension-list from a back seat on
the Treasury bench !
Oh London, who can listen to thy eternal whirl and roar—
who can gaze on thy palaces, thy temples, thy solemn, gray
cathedrals, or pause on the stately fabrics that span thy famous
stream, scarce seen fdr the forest of masts which crowd and
blacken above its bosom to an extent no eye can traverse—
who can pace the wondrous range of thy streets and squares,
stretching away as if to infinity, in showy splendour or sombre
grandeur;—who can "read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest"
all this, and not feel every petty, personal consciousness of
self swallowed up in an overpowering sense of astonishment
and admiration?
Yet, oh vain—ambitious—paradoxical London, lay not the
flattering unction to thy soul, that because thou art great, thou
art necessarily immortal. Already the seeds of decay are at
thy heart. Thou art dying by inches of a plethora. Thou
art sv ollen and bloated with a dropsy, though thy massive
shoulders and wondrous breadth of chest might seem to pro-
mise a lengthened life. Dream not then of immortality, but
fall to thy studies, and learn wisdom from the past. Think
of Rome, now the " Niobe of nations," but once queen-regent
of the universe What she is, thou must one day be. The
time shall come when thy gorgeous edifices shall fall, like
her's, in ruins to earth ; when the grass shall grow in thy
streets; when the owl shall hoot from thy roofless palaces,
and the adder crawl into sunshine from among thy mouldering
fanes ; when Silence and Solitude (twin mourners) shall sit
with folded arms and weeping eyes beside thy grave ; and the
pilgrim from some far-off land, as he wanders through a scene
of desolation, shall say—" And was this London ?"
I have given thee good advice, London, scarce hoping that
thou wilt follow it; and thus having discharged my duty as a
patriot and a moralist, I descend from my stilts and resume
the language of common life.

THE SUN, LONDON, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 1835.

GOOD NIGHT TO THE TORIES.

" Et longum formosa vale, vale, inquit, loIe."—VIRGIL.

Good night to the Tories Good night
To pensioner, placeman, and peer,
To those who stand up for a fight,
To those who dissolve in a tear ;
Good night to them all I They are down,
Chin-deep, in the gulph of affright,
Knave—courtier—fool—bigot—and clown—
Good night to the Tories, good night I
Sir Bob is disconsolate, very,
Ditto is Dawson, his cad ;
And that drollest of peers, Londonderry,
Lord Frank .46 VOC9urse to his muse,
" This is too bad :"
Lord Stormont . ,
5,1 m two,
Grim Cumberland quakes in
"raft wild with surprise,
Cries sa,,,—TelY,
Praed thinks of his pocket, and sighs. •
Good night to the Tories, they're in,
In a week or two hence to be out,
And the helm they usurped with a grin,
They must hasten to quit with a pout;
I see them, with infinite tact,
Scamper off amid many a curse,
Like pickpockets caught in the act
Of mistaking a gentleman's purse.
Good night to the Tories, but why
Should the Bishops (dear souls 1) be forgot?
Their fingers are in the same pie,
They row in the same Tory boat;
They, too, from their posts must be driven.*
If they'll deign, then, to take my advice,
They'll " lay up their treasure in heaven,"
For on eart s 'twill decay in a trice.
Good night to the Tories ; good night !
But to freemen, thrice welcome the day
That wakes us to life and to light,
And calls us to action away.
Hark ! bells from hall, steeple, and tower ;
Hark shouts from hill, valley, and lea ;
Hark ! Briton's stern cry—'tis the hour
To strike the last blow—and be free.
* From their seats in the House of Lords.

FINE ARTS.

ISSEELAND.—Panrs 7, 8.

Since we last noticed this work, two new parts (the
seventh and the eighth) have been published, which
fully bears out the praise we bestowed on the preceding
ones. The scenes are all well selected, and taken
from the moat favourable points of sight, and the lite-
rary explanations attached to them penned in a familiar,
unassuming style.

We have just been favoured with the sight of an
engraving of the remains of St. Stephen's Chapel, on
the morning after the late destructive conflagration. It
is, we understand, the production of a young artist,
by name Taylor, and does credit to his skill. The
drawing represents the Speaker's oratory and cloisters
in the fore-ground ; the imminent danger in which
Westminster-hall -was placed for some hours, and the
ruins of the House of Lords in the distance. It is
remarkable for the singular accuracy with which these
objects are pourtrayed.