The Sun.
London, England, 1827-05-21 00:00:00

thing more than a vulgar scramble for the loaves
and fishes.—Morning Herald•

We feel no surprise at the acrimony which
has infused itself into the new Opposition, be,
cause it is in human nature, that men who ate
deprived, no matter by what means, of that
which they covet, should rail at those who get
what they have lost. And this feeling of irra-
tional resentment is the stronger in proportion as
it is accompanied with the stings of self-reproach
at the consciousness that they have only their
own folly to thank for the plight in they
find themselves. They are like gamblers, who
not only deplore their losses, but, in bitterness of
heart, curse the weakness that betrayed them to
their ruin. These paroxysms, however, though
severe, are commonly of short duration ; and
after a little frantic writhing, and a few pas-
sionate ejaculations, the patient becomes tolera-
bly composed. At this point of exhausted tran-
quillity, those persons seem to have nearly ar-
rived above violent sufferings during the last
three weeks, have attracted so much public
notice. We were, of course, prepared for
all they have done and said ; but we were not
prepared for that bastard exasperation, that spu-
rious sympathy, which some of their followers
have displayed, who care not one straw about
them, and who, in playing the part of their echo,
" yell out syllables of dolor, with most amusing
gravity. At first they were in a state of whim-
sical perplexity, and did not know whether they
should laugh or cry ; whether they should
mourn or rejoice; but the moment they had
their cue, they burst forth in one concerted
strain of groans and execrations, such as showed
that they had at least been disciplined. We are
alluding not only to titled and untitled Senators
but to those among our contemporaries who, in
the space of a few short days have swung round
from the super-loyal to the sub-radical. There
was no gradual preparation of their readers for
the change. It was, all at once, a transition from
double refined honey to double distilled vinegar; and
heaven help us ! what wry faces there must have
been! Imagine a dry-nursed politician, accustomed to
receive his morning meal of unctuous loyalty, sud-
denly suffocated with a dose of pungent radicalism !
This barbarity has been, in particular, committed by
one of our contemporaries, who used always to pro-
vide their probations of the most harmless kind, but
who now prepare, in the furnace of his indignation,
beverage, compared to which the brimstone broth
with which we are told his Satanic Majesty solaces
himself, must be as refreshing as a glass of iced
lemonade. We profess not to understand the
mystery of all this. We do not comprehend how
the idol of to-day can become the fiend of to-
morrow ; how unchanged, himself, his worship-
pers, and they too whose devotion was the
most ardent, should become wholly changed.
Yet, we have heard the miracle called consistency.—
Were we, however, required to give it a name, we
should designate it as the basest species of apostacy,
because produced neither by private feelings on the
one hand, nor by the spew of public principle on
the other ; but, springing from a sordid, though
short-sigh ted calculation of self-interest.—New Time' s.