The Liverpool Standard and General Commercial Advertiser.
Liverpool, Merseyside, England, 1841-10-08 00:00:00

THE " ARISTOCRACY" OF WHIGGERY

Alas for the aristocracy of whiggery in Liverpool! Little
did we ever expect to witness the day when it should be so
utterly prostrate, so thoroughly contemptible, so hopelessly
debased ; where a Rathbone would be seen " playing second
fiddle" to a Jones or a Kelly, and the " broad cloth" of a
once respectable party glorify itself in being permitted to
provide the stage and the preliminary " swipes," upon which
cellarocracy commends itself to the admiration of the world.
We could positively weep, were it not that our natural pro-
pensity to laugh gets the better of us ; and we would moralize
if the acting of our sides would permit. " A great man strug-
gling with adversity is a sight worthy of the gods ;" but a
great party—a conglomeration of great men—parading their
fall and luxuriating in their degradation is a sight which, oc-
cupying ties neutral ground which exists between the sublime
and the ridiculous, is enough to upset the philosophy of or-
dinary mortals, and would shake the gravity of Olympus
itself.

" Moved by Robert Jones"—we beg his pardon—Mr.
Robert Jones, and " seconded by Lawrence Heyworth, Esq."
" Moved by Mr. Richard Kelly, seconded by William Rath-
bone, Esq." And this too at " A meeting of the inhabi-
tants of Liverpool"—a " town's meeting"—convened by his
worshipful the Mayor ! Truly, misery makes us acquainted
with strange bedfellows. Ten years ago William Rathbone
scarcely dreamt that his demure beaver would be hung upon
a lower peg than the greasy felt of Mr. Richard Kelly, or
that his aristocratic name would be ushered into the presence
of royalty in so close a juxta-position with that of his plebian
acquaintance. Ten years ago it was scarcely thought that
the opinions of " the merchants and traders" of this great
community could be gathered only from the lips of these tap-
room illuminati. We had, then, a great Whig party who
could hold meetings without the necessity of a previous bugle
call through the odoriferous localities of Ban4stre-street or
Brick-street, Vauxhall-road or Marybone ; and who were
not compelled to hunt up their materials from amongst the
taverns and markets on a Saturday night. But now—" how
are the mighty fallen !"—Now we can only say that all this

f the known rules of the way, and you have no sympathy to
expect, no remedy to hope for, among the preoccupied
crowds tbat you see around. What is this then but an effect
and consequence of civilization, or what the world is in the
habit of calling such ? There is no causation which neces-
sarily produces benevolence in a highly-civilized state of
society—civilized, we mean, without the element of chris-
tianity : the tendency of such a state is rather in the opposite
direction. Hospitality, we have heard it often remarked, is
the virtue of " imperfect civilization" ; but to " use hospi-
tality n to another, without grudging", is certainly a Chris-
tian virtue also. Civilization—if by that name we are to call
improvements in science and the arts—may leave this virtue
behind it; doubtless, just as it may christianity itself. Ci-

vilization brings masses of human beings together in crowded I
cities, crowded factories, crowded steam-boats, crowded
railway trains, and crowded everything. Now the mere
tendency of such crowding—apart from other considerations—
is not to benevolence, but rather, as we have suggested, to
selfishness. The mind of man, among a multitude, is more
driven in upon itself, and instead of thinking more of others,
from the distracting crowd which he sees around, he takes
refuge inward, and only thinks the more of himself. We all
know what the solitude of a great city is ; at first, perhaps, it
casts us into a dull, forlorn, melancholy habit of soul
but after a little while, the mainspring of action re-
covers. its tone, and the solitary sets abo.ut his own
business with a resolution and intenseness rather in-
creased than diminished by the general indifference with
which his movements are regarded. The tendency of civili-
sation is to lessen the outward manifestations of mutual de-
pendence—and to remove the occasions of exercise to the
benevolent affections a little more out of sight ; but of nei-
ther does it destroy the reality. The poor congregate in
narrow lanes and dark corners, or are eventually put out of
the way in receptacles provided for them by the state ; deep
tragedies are in course of performance at every side of us, of
which we are too busy to take any notice—and the most pro-
found emotions may agitate the bosom of our twit neighbour
in the train, of which we neverknow anything—unless some
sudden crash comes, and separates not only the company,
but heads and trunks, and legs and arms, of the same indivi-
dual ; then pockets are searched to ascertain identities, and
we learn with much regret that our late unfortunate fellow-
traveller was a newly-made husband hastening to return to
the eagerly expected welcome of his bride ; an only son after
a long absence to his mother—or a fond father to his happy
home. Civilisation:puts a smooth surface on the way of life ;
and by making less moving calls on the affections, has a ten-
dency to dry them up, or, to change my metaphor, let them
grow rusty for the want of exercise. We do not say that
• these affections are incompatible with the existence of civili-
sation ; nay far from it ; but we do say that civilisation does
not of itself favour their growth. There is a vast difference
between civilisation and Christianisation ; and it is most de-
sirable that they should move together. •

With regard to the American authoress and the German
ordinary, we have only to repeat our charitable construction
of the apparent unkindness with which the lady was trelled,
to state our, conjecture that the people who dined so ery
comfortably had no notion how very hungry she was.; and
to add our hope that the next time she travels that way she
will use the precaution to bespeak a dinner ticket—in time,
or to take " bread and butter and a bottle of wine" in her
pocket.