Has distanced the majesty of British justice in the persons of the
coroner, the bailiffs, and the Bow-street magistrates, after all. We
knew that he would do so; but in this we take no possible credit to
ourselves, for every one knew that he would do so. Public opinion is,
we must confess, still divided as to the place of his retreat, some
pronouncing it America, where his purpose is, to set up a bank with
Rowland Stephenson; others, New South Wales, by a natural and pleasant
anticipation; and others, Paris, which of late years has superseded
Philadelphia, and even New York, as the general receptacle of "the
unfortunate brave," the asylum of those men of genius, who have too much
talent to live in England, the favoured spot of regeneration for those
brilliant speculators whose conceptions equally outrun their credit and
their age. However, the majority are clearly for Paris; and the objects
of the visit are said to be political, and not personal. The friends of
the ex-ministers, it is understood, have succeeded in engaging him;
and he is about to put in operation a very extensive system of
_counter-irritation_ among the _canaille_ of the French capital.
Should his exertions be attended with success, he will, on his return,
be retained by the Home-office, and despatched into the disturbed
districts to _counter-irritate_ the erring disciples of "Swing."
On the whole, we are convinced that St. John Long will be seriously
missed at the West-end. His house was a pleasant lounge; his chocolate
was unimpeachable, whatever his honesty might be; no one could ever
question the strength of his coffee, whatever might be surmised of his
science; and the sandwiches which promenaded the rooms regularly every
half-hour, were a triumphant answer to all the aspersions that his
patients lived upon air. We have no doubt that it was a much pleasanter
place than the bazaars, to which such hosts of old peeresses order their
carriages every day at one, with such matchless punctuality, to buy
sixpence-worth of ribbon, and kill three hours. To this, St. John Long's
promenade was a paradise. The comfortable manner in which all the
comforts of the old ladies were provided for; the pleasantries arising
from the nature of the scene between the various _rubbed_: the
files of young women, with their mouths fixed to gas-pipes, and imbibing
all sorts of vapours; and, never to be forgotten in the catalogue of
attractions, the men of all ages who came to learn the art of being
cured of all calamities, that of the purse inclusive. Then, too, St.
John's own judicious generosity; the presents of invaluable snuff, of
first-growth Champagne, of Mocha coffee to one, and of gunpowder tea to
another, showed a knowledge of women and human nature, that must, but
for the malice of justice, inevitably have led to fortune. What will now
become of the countess, who led her daughters to this palace of Hygeia
as regularly as the day came; and with a spirit worthy of the great
cause, declared that, if she had twenty daughters, she would take every
one of them every day to the same place, for the same rubbing? What
will become of the heavy hours of him who declared St. John's gas a
qualification for the Cabinet, and that a sick minister applying to this
dispenser of all virtue, would be on his legs in the House, and making
a victorious speech within the twenty-four hours? What will become of
the battalion of beauties who, at every puff of the gas-pipe, ran to
their mirrors, and received the congratulations of the surrounding
dandies, or the revived carnation of their cheeks? "Othello's
occupation's o'er." But a St. John Long, of some kind or other, is
so essential to the West-end world, that a successor must be rapidly
erected in his room. Every age has its St. John Long, formed by the
mere necessities of the opulent and idle. A new Perkins, with a packet
of metallic tractors on a new scale would be extremely acceptable in
any handsome street in the neighbourhood of Grosvenor-square. Animal
magnetism would thrive prodigiously between this and the dust-months,
when London is left to the guardsmen and the cab-drivers; and when, as
Lady Jersey says, nobody who is anybody is to be seen in the streets
from morning till night, that is, from three till six. But the true
man of success would be Dr. Graham, of famous memory; the heir of his
talents would make a fortune in any season of the year; and now that
St. John Long has vacated the throne, nothing could be more favourable
for his ambition, than to take advantage of the interregnum, and make
himself monarch of charlatanry without loss of time.--From "Notes of
the Month," by far the most piquant portion of the _Monthly Mag_.
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