by the beneficent genius of ‘the great statesman, now no more,’ the necessity of destroying France, or being ourselves destroyed in the attempt. If they succeed in neither experiment, all that they have done is surely lost labour. They have then a right to their revenge, ‘their pound of carrion-flesh’—‘’tis theirs, ’tis dearly bought, and they will have it.’ Be it so. But we shall let them feast alone: we are not _man-eaters_. We shall not join the barbarous yell of this worse than Thracian rout, nor figure in at the close of their dance of death, nor applaud the catastrophe of their twenty years’ tragedy. We did not approve it in its commencement or progress; nor will we hail its threatened conclusion. We have had, and we will have, no hand in the plot, the execution, the scene-shifting, or the decoration. We leave the full credit of it to the original authors; and, in spite of all the puffing of the Bayes’s of the Pitt-school, the only answer they will get from us is, ‘’Tis an indifferent piece of work: would ’twere done!’ Though the torch of _The Times_ blazes over Paris, ‘fierce as a comet’; though _The Sun_ sees the lilied banner of the Bourbons floating before Lord Wellington in the plains of Normandy; though _The Courier_ is setting out post-haste to break up the negociations at Chatillon; and _The Morning Herald_ sheds tears of joy over the fashionable virtues of the rising generation, and finds that we shall make better man-milliners, better lacqueys, and better courtiers than ever—we remain sceptical as to the success, and more than sceptical as to the necessity of this last cast of our political dicers, and desperate venture of our licenced dealers and chapmen in morality and massacre. In our opinion, lives enough have been thrown away to prove, that the survivors are only born to _bear fardels_. This is the moral of the piece, if it succeeds on the principles of the Pitt-school, and all short of that is mere gratuitous mischief. The war, conducted on those principles and for those purposes, ‘was not, and it cannot come to good.’ Its failure, or its success, must be fatal.