FESTO

Some of our big mothers of the broad-sheet have expressed their surprise
that Lord John Russell should have penned so long an address to the
citizens of London, only the day before his wedding. For ourselves, we
think, it would have augured a far worse compliment to Lady John had he
written it the day after. These gentlemen very properly look upon marriage
as a most awful ceremony, and would, therefore, indirectly compliment the
nerve of a statesman who pens a political manifesto with the torch of Hymen
in his eyes, and the whole house odorous of wedding-cake. In the like
manner have we known the last signature of an unfortunate gentleman, about
to undergo a great public and private change, eulogized for the firmness
and clearness of its letters, with the perfect mastery of the supplementary
flourish. However, what is written is written; whether penned to the
rustling of bridesmaids' satins, or the surplice of the consolatory
ordinary--whether to the anticipated music of a marriage peal, or to the
more solemn accompaniment of the bell of St. Sepulchre's.

Ha! Lord John, had you only spoken out a little year ago--had you only told
her Majesty's Commons what you told the Livery of London--then, at this
moment, you had been no moribund minister--then had Sir Robert Peel been as
far from St. James's as he has ever been from Chatham. But so it is: the
Whig Ministry, like martyr Trappists, have died rather than open their
mouths. They would not hear the counsel of their friends, and they refused
to _speak out_ to their enemies. They retire from office with, at least,
this distinction--they are henceforth honorary members of the Asylum for
the Deaf and Dumb!

Again, the Whigs are victims to their inherent sense of politeness--to
their instinctive observance of courtesy towards the Tories. There has been
no bold defiance--no challenge to mortal combat for the cause of public
good; but when Whig has called out Tory, it has been in picked and holiday
phrase--

"As if a brother should a brother dare,
To gentle exercise and proof of arms."

For a long time the people have expected to see "cracked crowns and bloody
noses," and at length, with true John Bull disgust, turned from the ring,
convinced that the Whigs, whatever play they might make, would never go in
and fight.

But have the Tories been correspondingly courteous? By no means; the
generosity of politeness has been wholly with the Whigs. They, like
frolics