Thistlewood and Ings say to twenty ragged individuals, Liverpool and Castlereagh are two satellites of despotism; it would be highly desirable to put them out of the way.And a certain number of ragged individuals are surprised in a stable in Cato Street, making preparations to put Castlereagh and Liverpool out of the way, and are fired upon with muskets by Grenadiers, and are hacked at with cutlasses by Bow Street runners; but the twain who encouraged those ragged individuals to meet in Cato Street are not far off, they are not on the other side of the river, in the Borough, for example, in some garret or obscure cellar.The very first to confront the Guards and runners are Thistlewood and Ings;Thistlewood whips his long thin rapier through Smithers'
lungs, and Ings makes a dash at Fitzclarence with his butcher's knife.Oh, there was something in those fellows!
honesty and courage - but can as much be said for the inciters of the troubles of '32? No; they egged on poor ignorant mechanics and rustics, and got them hanged for pulling down and burning, whilst the highest pitch to which their own daring ever mounted was to mob Wellington as he passed in the streets.
Now, these people were humbugs, which Thistlewood and Ings were not.They raved and foamed against kings, queens, Wellington, the aristocracy, and what not, till they had got the Whigs into power, with whom they were in secret alliance, and with whom they afterwards openly joined in a system of robbery and corruption, more flagitious than the old Tory one, because there was more cant about it; for themselves they got consulships, commissionerships, and in some instances governments; for their sons clerkships in public offices; and there you may see those sons with the never-failing badge of the low scoundrel-puppy, the gilt chain at the waistcoat pocket; and there you may hear and see them using the languishing tones, and employing the airs and graces which wenches use and employ, who, without being in the family way, wish to make their keepers believe that they are in the family way.Assuredly great is the cleverness of your Radicals of '32, in providing for themselves and their families.Yet, clever as they are, there is one thing they cannot do - they get governments for themselves, commissionerships for their brothers, clerkships for their sons, but there is one thing beyond their craft - they cannot get husbands for their daughters, who, too ugly for marriage, and with their heads filled with the nonsense they have imbibed from gentility-novels, go over from Socinus to the Pope, becoming sisters in fusty convents, or having heard a few sermons in Mr.Platitude's "chapelle," seek for admission at the establishment of mother S-, who, after employing them for a time in various menial offices, and making them pluck off their eyebrows hair by hair, generally dismisses them on the plea of sluttishness; whereupon they return to their papas to eat the bread of the country, with the comfortable prospect of eating it still in the shape of a pension after their sires are dead.Papa (ex uno disce omnes) living as quietly as he can; not exactly enviably, it is true, being now and then seen to cast an uneasy and furtive glance behind, even as an animal is wont, who has lost by some mischance a very slight appendage; as quietly however as he can, and as dignifiedly, a great admirer of every genteel thing and genteel personage, the Duke in particular, whose "Despatches," bound in red morocco, you will find on his table.A disliker of coarse expressions, and extremes of every kind, with a perfect horror for revolutions and attempts to revolutionize, exclaiming now and then, as a shriek escapes from whipped and bleeding Hungary, a groan from gasping Poland, and a half-stifled curse from down-trodden but scowling Italy, "Confound the revolutionary canaille, why can't it be quiet!" in a word, putting one in mind of the parvenu in the "Walpurgis Nacht." The writer is no admirer of Gothe, but the idea of that parvenu was certainly a good one.Yes, putting one in mind of the individual who says -"Wir waren wahrlich auch nicht dumm, Und thaten oft was wir nicht sollten;Doch jetzo kehrt sich alles um und um, Und eben da wir's fest erhalten wollten."We were no fools, as every one discern'd, And stopp'd at nought our projects in fulfilling;But now the world seems topsy-turvy turn'd, To keep it quiet just when we were willing.
Now, this class of individuals entertain a mortal hatred for Lavengro and its writer, and never lose an opportunity of vituperating both.It is true that such hatred is by no means surprising.There is certainly a great deal of difference between Lavengro and their own sons; the one thinking of independence and philology, whilst he is clinking away at kettles, and hammering horse-shoes in dingles; the others stuck up at public offices with gilt chains at their waistcoat-pockets, and giving themselves the airs and graces of females of a certain description.And there certainly is a great deal of difference between the author of Lavengro and themselves - he retaining his principles and his brush; they with scarlet breeches on, it is true, but without their Republicanism, and their tails.Oh, the writer can well afford to be vituperated by your pseudo-Radicals of '32!
Some time ago the writer was set upon by an old Radical and his wife; but the matter is too rich not to require a chapter to itself.
