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

THE " ARISTOCRACY" OF WiIIGGERY!

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—paratlin
fall and luxuriating in their degradation is a sight which, m
copying tie 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 whit' party who
could hold meetings without the necessity of a previous bugle
call through the odoriferous localities of Bant,stre-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
are the mighty fallen !"—Now we can only say that all thi
glory was

" fuitnus Trues : fuit Ilium et gloria magna Troiae"—
and that, like the gloss from our last new coat, it has de-
parted. Alas for the aristocracy of whiggery ! It has fallen
into the sere and yellow leaf; is decayed, and is fast be-

• coining vile.
But it will rise again—we think we hear some flattering
prophet say—the respectability and the influence of whiggery
in Liverpool will recover itself and flourish once more. New
alliances will be formed ; the legality of the operations of the
Protector Society has been established ; the municipal con-
stituencies can now be inundated with the hordes of Popery ;
and whiggery, like a scum, will once more float upon the
surface, when those dirty ingredients have been thrown in

sufficient quantity into the cauldron. But wait one moment,
gentlemen, we reply, and tell us whether it is not quite pos-
sible that you may be foiled even at this game. Two may
play at it, you know, as well as one ; and perhaps conserva-
tism has quite as many weapons within its reach as whiggery,
even with the aid of Popery. Conservatism, moreover, will
not have to stoop quite so low in search of its allies as the
" rump" of whiggery must do to wake itself numerically
respectable. We shall not be called upon to enfranchise

paupers for the sake of their venal votes ; we are not com-
pelled to dive amongst the stews and cellars of back streets
and courts for support ; but, on the contrary, we have ready
at our hand, eager to enrol itself under our banners, a sound

Protestant democracy, sufficiently numerous to beat down
every attempt of the crawling, abject thing which calls itself
whiggery, and to keep it down.

The whig party never can rise again—never shall rise
again—in Liverpool at least. The thing whiggery is at this
moment dead. Its vitality has long ago ceased ; and it now
moves only as its limbs are worked and distorted by the evil
spirit of Popery, which has entered in and taken possession
of the dead carcase. Superficial observers may fancy, indeed,
that it still lives and moves, as many, we doubt not, have
imagined that the William Rathbone who on Saturday night
played a shrieking accompaniment to the performance of
Mr. Richard Kelly, the " working man," was the same In-
dividual who not many years ago was mayor of Liverpool;
but we can assure them that they were never more egre-
griously mistaken. The aristocratic whig, William Rath-
bone, is dead long ago ; and what we see daily is only his
galvanised corpus—his wardrobe animated by a fallen spirit,

which is bringing into melancholy disrepute the name of him
who once owned it. Alas, we say again, for the aristocracy

of whiggery !

OUR PORTFOLIO.—No. IV

Miss Sedgwick describes the mingled feelings of Lunge

and disappointment—(two rather disagreeable sensations)—
with all the nice touches of one who had very acutely expe-
rienced them. The scene lies in Germany, on the Rhine,
and she and her fellow-travellers, who are of the softer sex,
have gotten them a goodly appetite. " Now that the feast