(navigation image)
Home American Libraries | Canadian Libraries | Universal Library | Community Texts | Project Gutenberg | Children's Library | Biodiversity Heritage Library | Additional Collections
Search: Advanced Search
Anonymous User (login or join us)
Upload
See other formats

Full text of "The Dublin university magazine"

This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project 
to make the world's books discoverable online. 

It has survived long enough for the copyright to expire and the book to enter the public domain. A public domain book is one that was never subject 
to copyright or whose legal copyright term has expired. Whether a book is in the public domain may vary country to country. Public domain books 
are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often difficult to discover. 

Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the original volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the 
publisher to a library and finally to you. 

Usage guidelines 

Google is proud to partner with libraries to digitize public domain materials and make them widely accessible. Public domain books belong to the 
public and we are merely their custodians. Nevertheless, this work is expensive, so in order to keep providing this resource, we have taken steps to 
prevent abuse by commercial parties, including placing technical restrictions on automated querying. 

We also ask that you: 

+ Make non-commercial use of the files We designed Google Book Search for use by individuals, and we request that you use these files for 
personal, non-commercial purposes. 

+ Refrain from automated querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine 
translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us. We encourage the 
use of public domain materials for these purposes and may be able to help. 

+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find 
additional materials through Google Book Search. Please do not remove it. 

+ Keep it legal Whatever your use, remember that you are responsible for ensuring that what you are doing is legal. Do not assume that just 
because we believe a book is in the public domain for users in the United States, that the work is also in the public domain for users in other 
countries. Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer guidance on whether any specific use of 
any specific book is allowed. Please do not assume that a book's appearance in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner 
anywhere in the world. Copyright infringement liability can be quite severe. 

About Google Book Search 

Google's mission is to organize the world's information and to make it universally accessible and useful. Google Book Search helps readers 
discover the world's books while helping authors and publishers reach new audiences. You can search through the full text of this book on the web 



at |http : //books . google . com/ 



Af 



THE DUBLIN 



UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE 



I- 

» 
I 

i 
I 



Etterarj? anly ^olitttal StoumaL 



VOL. IX. 



JANUARY TO JUNE. 



1837. 



DUBLIN 
WILLIAM CURRY, JUN. AND COMPANY, 
SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO., LONDON. 



MDCCCXXXVn. 



Dublin : Printed by Jobn 8. FoLOi, 5, Baclicior'*- Wallc. 



DUBLIN 

UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE. 



No. XLIX. JANUARY, 1837. Vol. IX. 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

PROTESTANT MOVEMENTS IN IRELAND. 3 

A VISION OP JUDGMENT 15 

THE TRIUMPH OF MUSIC— Recollbction of a German Poem. Bv John 

Anstcr, LLD. 17 

NAPOLEON*S MIDNIGHT REVIEW. From the German of Baron Zeidlitz. . 19 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE REV. BLACKTHORN M'FLAIL, Late Parish 

Priest of Ballymacwhackbm. Introduction.— Chap. I.— Ante-natal History. 90 

AlifTHOLOGIA GERMANICA.— No, IX.— Wallenbtein'>» Camp.— Part II. . SS 

CAPABILITIES OF IRELAND 46 

THE MOUNTAIN RIVER— A DREAM— EVENING 58 

DR. WALL'S REPLY TO THE EDINBURGH REVIEW fil 

GALLERY OF ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHMEN.— No. VIL^Charlemont.- Part. IV. 72 

THE TWO INHIBITIONS AND THE "LIBERAL" PRESS. ... 67 

ESSAYS ON.THE ENGLISH POETS.— No. II.— Henry More, the Platonist. . fi9 

THEPAisTYEAR,POPERY, AND THE PEERAGE 118 



DUBLIN 
WILLIAM CURRY, JUN. AND COMPANY. 

SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO., AND R. GROOMBRIDOE, LONDON. 
SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINODOM. 



THE DUBLIN 



UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE 



S^ittrarj) atiDi ^olttual J^ouritaL 



VOL. IX. 



JANUARY TO JUNE. 



1837. 



DUBLIN 
WILLIAM CURRY, JUN. AND COMPANY, 
SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO., LONDON. 



MDCCCXXXVU. 



Dublin : PrlnUd bj Jooir 8. FoldSj S, Bachtlor't- Walk. 



DUBLIN 

UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE. 



No. XLIX- JANUARY, 1837. Vol. IX. 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

PROTESTANT MOVEMENTS IN IRELAND. 3 

A VISION OF JUDGMENT 15 

THE TRIUMPH OF MUSIC— Rkcollkction or a Grrman Poem. By Juon 

An ^STKB, LL D. 17 

NAPOLEON'S MIDNIGHT REVIEW. FftOM the Gekman or Bakon Zeidlitz. . 19 

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE REV. BLACKTHORN M'FLAIL, Late Pabikh 

Pbiest OF Balltmacwbackem. iNTftODUGTi oil .—Chap. I.— Ante-natal Histoky. df) 

ANTHOLOQIA GERMANICA^No. 1X.-^Wallenbtein'8 Camp.-.Fakt II. . S3 

CAPABILITIES OF IRELAND 46 

THE MOUNTAIN RIVER— A DREAM— EVENING 58 

DR. WALL'S REPLY TO THE EDINBURGH REVIEW 01 

GALLERY OF ILLUSTRIOUS IRISHMEN.— No. VII.-Cbaelemont.— Paet. IV. 72 

THE TWO INHIBITIONS AND THE "LIBERAL" PRESS. . . . ^7 

ESSAYS ON THE ENGLISH POETS.— No. II—Heney Moee, the Platonist. «) 

THEPASTYEAR, POPERY, AND THE PEERAGE 118 



DUBLIN 
WILLIAM CURRY, JUN. AND COMPANY. 

>IMPKIS, MARSHALL, AND CO., AN'I) It. (iROOMBUIDC.E, LONDON. 
SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS IM THE UNITED KINODO.M. 



In a few days will be published, 

SCENES 
THE LIFE OF EDWARD LASCELLES. 

REPRINTED FROM THE DUBLIN UNITERSITY MAGAZINE, 

Wiih Corrections and Additions by the Autbor, 
Two Vols, small 8vo. 



THE DUBLIN 

UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE. 



No, XLIX. 



JANUARY, 1837. 



ot. 



IX 



I*R0TE5TANT MOVEMENTS IN IRELAND* 



1% our last Number we offered a few 
ob«ervatk»n§ on the meeting oF the 
Metropolitan Conservative Associa- 
tion. Within tlie <ipaee to which iie- 
cessity then limited us, it was itij[>o3- 
§ible to give to thif* mt^cting the consi- 
deration to which its importance en- 
titles it ; we^ therefore, return to the 
subject ag^in, and as some additional 
meetings have since furnished us uith 
an addition Ell source of comment, we 
propose to make those proceedings the 
text of a few observations on the ge- 
neral subject of Protestant movements 
ttt Ireland. 

We art! aware that, in approaching 
this fubject we have many difficulties 
and many prejudices to contend with. 
We have the policy of the temporis- 
ing', the cowardice of the faint- heart- 
ed, and perhaps, too, the intemperance 
of the violent to encounter, VVe shall 
endeavour calmly to lay our views be- 
fore otir readers, uninnuenced by any 
other considerations than a regard 
to what we believe the interests of 
Protestantism require. The subject 
U[»on which we wTite is one upon which 
we have thought much* and we have 
endeavoured to think deeply. We da 
not put forward opinions adopted 
without reflection ; and we trust that 
in every thing we advance, we shall 
have reason t** support our views. Of one 
thing, at least, we arc certain, that we 
shalt nut scruple to fpeuk our sentt- 
ments plainly and undisguised ly, with- 
cwit consulting how we may please any 
individual or any party. 

In contemplating the present state 
of politicat parties in Irebnd, two 
facts present themselves so obviously 
to the mind, that it might hardly 
»ecin necessarj* to call attention to 
them — and yet they are facts which 
9€^m altogetlier to be overlooked by 

Vol. IX. 



some Conservatives, who pride therat 
selves upon being peculiarly prudent 
politicians. Let us place the two facta 
to which we allude in juxta position* 
for our reader's consideration. 

First. It is a fact, that the Conser- 
vative party in Ireland possess an im- 
mense preponderance of all the ele- 
ments of the political power of the 
country. 

Secondly. It is a fiict, that their op- 
ponent?, inferior as they are in all the 
elements t»r strength, have defeated 
Ihem in the struggle for nolitica! supe- 
riority, and have, at this nioment, a 
majority of the representation of Ire- 
land in their hands. 

These two tacts^thus placed in thcii^ 
naked abstraction before the mind, are 
worth a thousand arguments. The 
most laboured es^ay to prove the ne- 
cessity of Protestant exertion could 
not speak half as much as do those two 
simple and unanswertible facts. We 
will not insult the understanding of 
our readers by drawing from them the 
sell-evident inference that the Con- 
servaiiTcs have been deficient in ex- 
ertion ; and were we called on to argue 
with the most plausible of the ad- 
visers of Protestant inaction — ;and with 
regret we say it, there are such 
among I hem who profess a deep zral 
for the Protestant causes — we would 
think it necessary to offer no other 
arfjument to refute their most ingenious 
sophistry, than a steady and constant 
repetition of these two indisputable 
statements. 

We may, perhaps, best throw our 
sentiments upon this subicct into the 
fiiape of comment upon the recent 
proceedings by wliich Protestants in 
various parts of Ireland have mani- 
ft^gicd their detennination to be etn r- 
getie in the cause of truth. In addi- 



Pt'vtestani Movements in Ireland* 



[Jan. 



IP 



oitn to the meeting oFthe Metropoliiau 
Conaervative Society » we have to 
notice several other most grulityiiig' 
and cheering Uemon^tratiuns uf Pro 
testant teelinLt in Irelami, siii^ultirly 
enough embmciiii^^ within thuir loiu- 
pass thfi entire extent of tbe i^liuid. 
Literally from Cork t<* Cdrriekrert^MS 
the voice of Pn>t«^staiitisiii Ims been 
raised, Cork, Dnhtm, Emiiskiilen, 
Beinbridge, and Bully mena, liuve all 
had their meedng-s with siy^nul spirit 
and success. A lew days more will 
add to the list die most gplci^iiiil of 
them all — we mean, of uuur-ic, the 
Jinniversary dinner of the BeliUst 
Society — and we trnsi thi*t the spirit 
thus cxcit<^d will not souir ur easily 
subside, bnt that Pruiestaots will unite 
wherever t lie re is the pressure upon 
Protestantiani, and in th<ur iitiion as- 
suredly there will he i^truny^th. 

A brief sketch of the history of the 
Metropolitan Conservative Associalioa 
may, perhH[>9, be neither nninstryclive 
or iniippropridte. There tn.ty be same- 
thinf in its progress tu cheer the ex- 
eriions of ihose who attempt, tinder 
discouragements, to carry out the greut 
principle tif Prote^itant union— the prin- 
ciple upon the practical devehipmcnt 
of which, we ciinnot dis^uiac from our- 
selves, the very eiisteucc of Irish Pro- 
testantism ilependji. It was com- 
menced, we believe, by eleven Indi- 
vid u a U, who felt the necessity of some 
bond of union bet ween Protestants, 
and who acted on whjit tliey felt. Re- 
membering the old and universally 
adopted proverb, ** Dimidium faeti qui 
ciepit habet," they determined that 
they would at lei*=t begin* Tliey 
went straightforward to work, and 
formed ihem^elveg into a Protestant 
Associal ion; ami this is the nucleus from 
which originated that great and intlu- 
entialhody,the MetropoHtan Society — 
a society Including in its members up- 
wards tif a thousand persons of re- 
spectability and iodoence in their re- 
spective station?* and including in 
its members much of the r^nk and tlte 
talent of the coontry, 

Th'^ societv hafl been for some time 
maturing iheir plana and earryiui? 
«)n their operations in silence, when it 
was proposed bv some of their mem- 
btr3 that it woufd be dciirable to bold 
a general meeting nf the Association, 
to which person-* not members might, 
under certain restrictions, be attmiUcd, 



and of which the proceedings should 
be reportrtl. This meeting was fixed 
fur the IGth of November, and its pro- 
ceedings furnish us with the text for 
tliesic obseivation?. It is the intention 
o\' tlie Boeiety to reprint the proceed- 
ings ill the shape of a |«amphlet* We 
have not, however, as yet been able to 
])rocure a copy, and we are obliged to 
tiike our extracts from the newspaper 
reports. 

To the character, the olyects, and the 
proceedings of the Association, iu- 
cludirig in these last their general 
meeting, we have no hesitation in say- 
imr that we give an entire and nn- 
cjualiHed approval* Our readers mny 
p4-rhujj9 recollect tlmt some time since 
we stated «mr views on the occasion of 
the liiiisij lotion of the Orange Lodges.* 
We tlien recommended the formation 
of Protestant Associations, and the ad- 
\ice which we thought it our duty to 
offer, met, we believe, witli the con- 
currence of most persons whose opi- 
nions were entitled to respect. The 
very same principles which then in- 
liuenced u« iu offering that adviee, now 
determine 08 in expresslnjir our approval 
of the Metropolitan Association, and 
it only needs that it;^ example should 
be generally followed to ensure for 
every ptirt of Ireland an nnolyection- 
ahle system of Protestant Union, of a 
character at once temperate and firm, 
meeting the wishes of the most ardent 
of our friends, and presenting no 
ground for the cavils of the most 
captious of our opponents. 

The objects of the Association have 
been fearlessly and honestly put for- 
Wiird— they are such as none but the 
enemies of Prote^iantiMu can take ex- 
ception to. From the report of the 
Cinnmittee we take the following, 
which i* the original declaration of the 
objects of the society, and presents the 
great principles which constitute, if 
we may so speak, the charter of its 
incorporation. Their objects ai here 
put ti If ward are— 

'* To maintniD by every meant lo oar 
power tlie Protestant interests in Ireland. 

** To unite together all who ore will- 
iug to make comman eRuso in upholding 
the religion of tlie Retorroation, And the 
principlci of civil nnd religious liberty, 
of whiih, under God, it has been the 
foundation. 

** Anil lor that purpose to employ such 
means as may seem advii$aUc and cousti- 



• See Dublin University Magiaine for June 1P36, vol 7. 



1 



1837-] 



Protestant JlofvernenU in Ireland^ 



lutioniil io fjirilitate and promote the 
rtigbtratioti of ProlwAtant v**tt^ra, nnd lUe 
(lisf^minution of smitid political and ruli- 
pious informalion amuni^st our ProlL't.tuiJt 
breil^rua throuijhout th« empire. 

" And to /wtt m every wn)% by the 
tfttablblimetil of Limn Funds and all 
ftuch other meiins jw may bo imvtiicHlde, 
protection nnd ftssistance to the humbler 
i of ProleBtantai." 



In this simple, brief, and yet com- 
preheiisive statement of the objects of 
the society » there Is included every 
thing: ihat'ought to be the object of a 
Protestint ussociadon ; and there is 
incliideil nothing twore. This state- 
ment of their objects is jtist in charac- 
ter with the entire spirit of the 
proceedings of the society — niarkcd by 
temperance, calmness, and moderanonj 
and yet, at tlie same time, presenting a 
full, and a steady, and an uncouipro- 
mising declaration of principle : and in 
this umoii of firmiKjSs and mildness, 
there is a lesson, which we do not lie?i- 
tiite to s^iy, the Protestants of Ireland 
needed to be tans^ht. Some int-n have 
been too apt to confound ititeg^rity of 
principle with violence of expression, 
und to ima^ne that a furious partizaii- 
•hip is the ouist unet^ui vocal proof of 
iltachment to the cau-e of truth — while 
Dtheni, again, still ;:iorc foolishly trna- 

[ined thit the way to exhilnt modera- 
tion was to comproiiii.^e and gwc up 

ome portion of principle. But it is 

heering and gratifying to observe, 
,Jial the Protectants of Ireland, are 
.ieaminf the liutb, that, indeed to l)e 
'consist cut, it is not necc.*>ary to be in- 
temperate, and thtit true nnHleralion is 
something very far different indeed 

torn a suppression or abandonment of 
^principle. They have seen that it is 
ihe duty of the advocate of the cause 
of truth to declare the truth, and the 
► whole trutb ; but it is equally bis duty 
lliever io encumber that dccUrattou 
inrith a single occuumou of unnece^siary 
loflence. It is the donble stamp of firm 
Adherence to principle, and of modera- 
tion io asserting it, which is im|jrej*>ed 
upon all tbeir proceeding's, that makes 
^us regrard this society as likely to prt»vc 
La powerful ausiliary to tlic Prolcstaut 

jause. U 18 time', however, that i*e 
r^houJd come to thceuusideratiou nf the 

tnectiug itstrlf. 

In the very froul of the pmeeed- 
Iffig* we are met by a feiture perhap* 

die most striking in the entire. We 

an the sing-ular, and, we cannot 

thinking, the unfuruiuate letter 



of Mr. Georg-e Alexander Hamilton, 
At first we were disposed to regard 
the apiiearance of this letter with re- 
gret. We si ill think it would have 
been better that it should not have 
been pnbtished ; but its publication 
in my nave its jtrood. The senti- 
menis of this letter are sentiments 
entertained by a section of tlie Con- 
servative party ; and it is well that 
they should find expression in a tan- 
g-ible shape in which they may be 
brought to the test of discussion. 
There are often prejudices vaguely 
jioating through the mind which as- 
sume the apfiearance of unanswer- 
able arguments, until their baseless- 
ness is detected in the attempt to 
sha[ie thetn into words : aud this U 
just the case with the vague prejudicei 
to which Mr* Hamilton's letter gives a 
shape. He cndM^dies idle and intangi« 
ble speculations in a form in which they 
may be refuted. So far, we trust, he 
docs service. We know that in deal- 
ing with his letter we are dealing 
with feelings which are predispos- 
ing many to listen to the siren se- 
ductions of indolence and pleasure ; 
and fiatter themselves into the belief, 
that in yielding to the seduction they 
are acting a ])rudent part. It k always 
pleasant to find in our own minds ati 
excuse for yielding to inciiniition — still 
more jdeasant when the excuse is of 
such a nature as to enable us to find 
fault wiih the exertions of those whose 
st( rn adherence to tlie path of duty 
pntJi our remissness! to the binsh. It is 
the evil of Mr, Hamilton's letter that 
it furnishes, under the sanction of 
a respected name, such excusta to 
those who ever are ready to stand 
aloof from every tnovement of their 
Protestant brethren. It is the* em- 
bodying of these excuses — and, ivs such 
it is worth the trouble of a calm and 
dt'hberale exaniioatiun — to wliich per- 
hiips ollierwise it miubt not be v.n- 
th\i'Al ; for wliile we enterttiin an 
undiminished rei?pect for Mr. Hamil- 
tor/s integrity and honesty of par- 
pose, candotrr obliges us to aeknow- 
[edge that h\s conduct ou this oeeasion 
has not been marked by the strength of 
mind or soundness id* judgment which 
we would have expected from the 
writer. We trust tliat Mr. Hamilton 
will believr ns, that nothing but a 
sense of duly con hi induce us to 
spf'iik rhfi«5. But the publication of his 
iL'tter has thrown on us the painftd 
fluty of exposing calmly and gently, 
but, at the same time, fully, the 



ProUHani Mt/vemmUi in Irdamd- 



[Jan* 



I 
I 
I 



weaknesi of his potttioa^, and the mis-- 
cbieToufl cbftracter of their results. 

The following \A Mr. Haiiiilton*8 
letter :— 

•• flwiiiMan HatU Nov. t^ ISSG. 

** My dsab PLONEnr — The aUenc* of 
fyni! of the CoDaervative members or the 
metrojwlb from ii meeting of tlie Metro- 
ptitiLon Froti^staut Aji»oci»tioo* may |k»»- 
ail/ty cTeHtea reiOHrk — certalaJj it reqtiire» 
an explanatioQ. 

" Will you, therefore, be kj kind as to 
ilate for me, that lui\ing been recently 
consul t^ by seveml §reGtlemeD who i^'cre 
meroben of the late Onrnge InstitutioDt 
with regard to the expediency of re-estab- 
Ibhin^ that lottitatiou uiider eiisttng 
trrctim^tanres — haTing expressed myself 
Tery »trongly as^inst its re-OT|puitzatiua 
lit this present time, and the inteatioD 
IvaTin^f huen, 1 believe, abandoned, partly, 
ppr1i:i|jfi, in deference to my advice and 
epittinn, ] feel that I should be acting 
unfairly towards tbvm, and ioconsistetitly 
with that advice, if I was now (o become 
a member of Another freneral political 
ass'jciation of similar principles and having 
similar object* in view. 

*' By the voluntary dissolution of that 
dearly-cherished institution, in submission 
to the wishes of our King, and on an 
understiiiiding, or engagement, as I am 
informed, that ali adverse politit^I associ- 
itiions should be discouraged by govern- 
ment, the real character of timt much- 
calumnbited body, and of the Protestants 
ot Ireland Keoerally* Iihs been already, I 
trust* set nght in the eyes ui the English 
people, Hud tbeir feelings awakened on 
our behsilt. 

**But, however it may injure us in 
s«jmt3 respects, I cannot help thinking 
that the cessation of all getiernl political 
n^itutioti «in our side, for i^oniu time 
kjiiger, till Govifrnment and ParUjimenl 
shall have deen unsuccessfully appealed 
to, will render more essential bcrvii e to 
our niiu»p, than any other meusures we 
could now ^idopt. 

** M«Mlen»lion, iuch us thai on our part, 
while ai^itation hn* been cnrried on with 
rcdnubli'd violence on the part of our 
nppont*nts, and while it has been pro- 
moted. iuf<t«^nd of discouniged by the 
coiidiict «1 (rcivernmeiit, will I'luible the 
people of Kiitrland to appreciate mm<^ 
fully the failh that liii* betn kept on both 
siden, and will exrite their sympathies 
more strongly in our favour, while it will 
also prove to them tiisit Protesntunt ngi- 
bitum nud organ lzatii»u are dofensire ami 
not H{k!4rres«i^*e. 

'* When h*rol4'&tHnt fiirl>i*Hmnce shitU 

have been luriiu'r 5ibti»ed, and Parliament 

^n d(*overunieiil sihkill have beeu iijtpealed 

in vain, and when, consei|ueiul)j Wc 



shall hftTe no other nlteniattvt tbaa agnin 
ta retort to Protoatanl agitalioii biuI 
orgaoizailloo, I coafns I shall pfvfer th« 
fo-cooatmctioa of the Ormge lostitntioQ, 
with certain Dodificntioosi, io any other 
general political aaaoctatkm. 

** I beg of yon to asstire the meetinf 
that while I think it oecesBary to e^vphiiii 
my reasons, as an individual, for declining 
to join the Protestant Association at this 
present time, I Hm far from intending to 
discourage, still Ies> to find fnuU with, the 
exertion! you are usia^, in conjunction 
with them, for the promotion of our com* 
mon cause, 

'* Believe in«, my dear Plunkett, 
always, sincerely yours, 

"Geo. a. Hamilton. 
« The Hon. R. E. Phiok^tt, M J*," 

Our object in this article is to urge 
upon Irish Prote*tants the necessity of 
eicertion ; and perhaps all that we have 
to say Ufioo the subject may most con- 
veniently he thrown into the «hape uf 
a reply to Mr. Hamilton, Before we 
proceed to a task, in the discharge of 
which we are sure that he would not 
wish ua to soflen down a single senti- 
ment of what we feel, wc beg distinctly 
to repeat, that our respect for Mr, 
HamiUon's principles and churaeter \9 
undiminished by a step which we must 
fairly tell him has had a different eftect 
upon the minds of others. In acting 
as he did, we are confident that he acted 
from a conviction that the course he 
was pursuing was the best for the inte- 
rest*! of Protestantism ; and while wc 
think his letter altogether a mistaken 
one, we readily acknowledge that it 
has emanated from an honest and an 
honourable mind* 

This letter does not appear written 
with the clearness of one who under- 
stood tlislrnctly the ground;* c»f his 
conviction. The general tenor of the 
seniitnents is unniiestionHbly to dis- 
courage as imftolitic the efforts of the 
Metropolitan Association ; and yet at 
its close Mr, Hamilton, as if conscious 
that he was stningely out of his element 
in discouraginir Protestant exertion, at- 
lernplii a» it were to neutralize the cftect ^| 
of all tlmt he had previously written, by ^m 
sayiii;^ thnt while ** he thinks it neces- 
sary as ;m itulividuid to explain his rea- 
sons for ilcclining to join the Protestant 
Association at the present time, he is 
far froiij inltnding to disnouragre, still 
h?AS to find fault with the exertions 
iliey are inakinji." 

Now, berf^iug Mr, Hamilton's par- 
don, wc must say that if this sentence 
ha;^ any mcauing at alL it simply i^ tliis» i 



I 



1837.] 



Pr&inkmi Mavitnenit in Irehfid. 



L mo 

I te« 

I wh 

I see 



— that tlie rest of his letter has notie. 
The cnlire drift of the letter was to dift- 
eountge any exertion on the part of 
Protectants, ami even beyoiid this, to 
discourage the particular exertions of 
the Aftsociatiofi aa not those at all 
events that ought to be adopted- The 
reasons that heputs forwaid do not apply 
to htm asaninaividualwitbonc bit more 
force than to every other Protestant in 
the community. If it be prudent for 
Protestants to remain quiet until "their 
forbearance is further abused.'' this prn* 
dence is equally obligatory upon all. 
If the revival of Orangeifmbc the best 
and the only mode of uuii'mg' Pro- 
testants tog'etber, this is a considera- 
tion which should itifiuence e^^ty Pro- 
testant equally for the preferences or 
predilections of an individuul — eit- 
cept as they rest upon reasons cal- 
culated to convince the public mind 
---are not matters of the alightest public 
concern. The truth is, that tJirou^hout 
hit letter Mr. Hamilton dealt with 
the matter on public grounds* and he 
ahould never have hesitated one in- 
alaut in openly appealing to the com- 
mou sense and judgment of the Pro- 
tettant public to discourage exertions 

hich ne believed injudicious. He 
seems^ from an unacknowledged coii- 

ioiisness of the weakness of his ar- 
_ iineats, afraid to make thnt ap- 
'peal: we know well what would be its 
result It would require a great deal 
of argument to pluck from the 
heurts of Irish Protestants the ccm- 
viction which a stern neeessitv has 
implanted — that they can no longer 
with safety or consistency with the 
obliifations of duty remain inactive. 

There is indeed one aeuience of his 
tetter in which he gives something like 
a pcrsntmt reason fur declining to join 
the Metropolitan Society, and this sen- 
tence we cannot help lamenting as 
the most unfortunate of the entire 
letter ; it is that in which he says — 

*• llaving been recently consulted by 
»«vefMl gentlemen who were members of 
tht; Irtte Oninge Institution with regard 
t» t}^ exptfdi<^(icy of ree»tn!»lii»hing thnt 
inttJtution, undijr eiintin^ circumsta»tf§ ; 
hnvrng expre«*ed myself very strt^ngly 
arainit it? reorgauizatinn at the present 
time, («nd the intenticm havini? bei*n^ I 
Iwlievc, abeindooed partly in dtif**rente to 
my Hdvire and opinion/ I f kkl that I 

WOl'tO aE AtTlMG LNrAlRLY TtlWAHfW 

THtH, nod incoofiftteiitly wrth th^xt ail- 
vie*, \i \ were now lo b<*come « m**mbi'r 
oJ aaoth^r geoerid political anociiitiun ul 



similar principles) and having similar ob- 
jects in view*" 

There is in this sentence a mistake^ 
which it is important to correct 
regarding the respective characters 
of the Orange sodelies and the 
Metropolitan Associtition : their prin- 
ciples are unquestionably similar, but 
their character is dttt'ererit; and their 
objects, if they are parallel, for that very 
reason are distinct. Were Orange ism 
in full existence tomorrow, we say that 
it would not ill the slightest cfegree 
interfere with the operations of the 
Metfopolitun Society, or suiicrsede the 
necessity of its existence. The Orange 
lodges were adapted for the concent ra- 
tion of physical force; the Metropolitan 
Society aims at the attainment of moral 
influence. It vrs^ the boust of the 
Orange Institution that it was essen- 
tialiy a defensive society, in which the 
right hearted and the loyal combined 
to resist onlrage and violence, and to 
overcome by their calm but resolute 
exhibition of strength the menaces of 
force by whieb Protestantism is as- 
sailed. We do not hesitate to say that 
the character of the Metropolitan 
Society is in one sense an aggressive 
one; it endeavours to gain political 
iiittuence for right principles — it aim* 
at convincing our opponents bv means 
of appeals to that reason which no- 
party spirit can altogether silence in 
the human soul — it aims at gaining 
power for our friends by securing iho 
rf^gistration of the franchise of true 
men. These are objects iur»er con- 
templated by the Orange organization, 
and objects 'which ought not to be ne- 
glected ; arid this ground^ altogether 
beside the position which Orangeism 
occupied, the Metropolitan Society has 
taken. Upon this point we cannot do 
better than employ the admirable lan- 
guage of the report of the committee— 

•« The chnrg:e that you are but a rcTtva^ 
of Oraageism is to be received in two 
lighl5. The enemies of tbe Prulustunt 
religion did not eertiiinly attnck the 
Orange Institution, from any betiet^ Llnit 
it W!i8 itjjnrioijs to the country; nor 
did ihey pWe the slightest faith in the 
cliai^es whiih thc^mselves brought at^ainst 
iL The truth of thi» nfl^erlinn U suffi- 
ctently manifest trom the viry iti;:eniou!i 
but i]i«lumoitnible Artitict^ whit-h tlify em- 
ployf ri to prtni'nl that body from entering 
into M'A JEt^ii^iation — nn artilieti ti>o well 
knuvi'n to m»kt* it necessHry lor y*»tir com- 
mittee to refer to it. It i» probable, how- 



8 



Protestant Movements in Ireland* 



[Jazu 



oTfir, that Uiese petftons had some lio|je9 
that if thuy could succted in jmttmg down 
Orjngebmi, tliey would bo able lo yut- 
duee scKiBm aod disunion among tite Wo* 
t^stanU, and before thfly would rally ajjain 
mtirht t'ffert a conwderable portion of their 
wicked di?'si|jrn6. They, iberefori?, are 
fully determined to prettiiid that every 
form in wUich Protestants may unite, 
and every system which ihey employ for 
the preservation of their properties and 
lives, is but a revival of Oningeism ; and 
they will rertiiinly affect to iiitagiae that 
inconsenting to dissolve the ^rand Oraoi^e 
lt»d(j:e of Ireland there was an implied 
promise that all the Proteetante should 
abataiQ from any further opposition to 
their nefariovis designs, 

*• The two ohjettiona we have referred 
to, n« arising from the tupposition that 
you are either a revi\Til of Oningeis>m or 
a »ubsititute for Orangeicim may lie thas 
answered ; had the grand Orange lodge of 
(rehind never been di^isolved, or were it to 
be revived with the fullest sanction of the 
legislnture, in neither case would the ne- 
ce88iry for your Sociiity be in the least 
degree altered, or its objects either dimi- 
nished or enlarged. 

** The charge is merely one of dnles ; 
for from no other circum!>tnnce, except 
the appearaoce of your Society jmme- 
iialely alter the event referred to, could 
it have arisen, Yoar objects aud your 
mmle of nttuining them, ns well as your 
whole consiilution,flre essentially different 
from those of the Ornnge Inititution; 
and the sole effect which that dissolution 
produced upon tt wns to increase the ac- 
tivity of your men) hers, who are anxious 
to prove to the world tliat to make Pro- 
lestants lay doviu ibfir arms and desert 
the defence of their religion and liberties 
was a vain expectation." 

This point, too, was put clearly, 
imd with sound disctimiimtion, by Mr. 
riunk«rt, ift moving the adoption of 
the report : 

** This Afsocmtion is neither an offshoot 
of nor a 6ubs?titute for Uraugeisn). It is 
not the former, hecaUH? it evidently wants 
the iluwers, if not the fruit, of the main 
trtink — it has no secret signs or symbols, 
eiilour^, badi^es, or similar organization ; 
iim], scciiadly, it is not ii substitute for 
Orangfistii, for a rrusou thai all here 
present may not be suffirii^'ntly able to ap- 
preciate, vix, — that matiy of uii. and I, 
for one, think that there tievt^r can be an 
adequate MihsLUute hit much mal gned, 
tuuih ini«uMder»^tood, and purposely mis* 
represented Orangetsm," 

Tbu« ilic objects, ihn character, anil 
t the cotiatiiutiou of llie Orange institu- 



tion and the Metropolitan Society are 
tso distinct, that the propriety of re- 
viving the one iind estublishing the 
uthcr rests upon grounds perfectly 
seimrate. That their principles are 
similar it m true; but cftch has taken a 
separate po«<itti>n in the muiote nance 
of their priiuviples. ** The Metropolitan 
Society was never intended either as a 
substitute for or re\ival of Orange- 
ism/' The ouesiiun as to the prudence 
of encouraginji eillier body is hardly if 
at all affected by the existence of the 
other, except so far as this — ^that un- 
questionably in the prtisent state of 
Irish society smue form of Protest- 
antism is necessary to give lieart to 
the friends of Proteiitkiutisra^ — this is 
the only point in which the two can 
meet, and in which they enn never iu- 
terlere with each other. The metuphor 
may mat perlia[i8 be a good one, but it 
will convey wiial we mean if we say that 
the wishes of their res^pcctive opera- 
tions touched each other in this one 
pidnt — ^and of course they come in 
contact in no other. We are hound to 
hope thut all our male readers have at 
least enouifb of tnatbemntieal science to 
perceive what we h.ive attempted to 
indicate by the analugy. 

We regfret much that Mr. Hamilton 
should have fallen into this misconcep- 
tion on a point on wl>ieh it b e^^sential 
that our notions should be distinct. We 
are inclined to believe that he incau- 
tiously expressed ids opinions without 
taking Butiicient pains to inform himself 
of the character or constitution of the 
Association. His whole letter bears 
the marks t»f basic. Unless we are far 
mistaketi in Mr. H.tmiltun,a moment s 
reflection would have made him 
suppress a haH* expressed sentiment, 
wliicii in the letter of a peison les^s 
dbv tiled to Protestantism we would 
consider deserving of severe animad- 
version, and which even in iiim we 
cannot pass without reproof. 

He speaks of unfairness towards those 
to whom he had previously gfivcn an 
advice not to revive the Orang-e Insll- 
t u I i o n ! S u rely w h e ti he th m c x p resscd 
himself he did not perceive that the^re is 
but cine inference to be drawn from 
this lunguii^e, and it is this — tliat those 
persons, whoever they may be, to whom 
this advice was |jiven were men \\lio 
'Mike nothitig but what is hammered 
upon their own anvil,*' and who will 
regard with jealous v any attempt to 
serve the cause of Wotestantism tbut 
is not fashioned by ihemselvt*. And 



a837.] 



Protestant Movements in Ireland, 



9 



yet this is the only intelligible import 
of Mr. Hamilton's words. No man 
knows better than himself that there is 
no true Protestant who will not desire 
to see the cause he loves promoted by 
any instruments or by anv persons. It 
would be injustice to the )?rotestants of 
Ireland did he insinuate the existence 
of any such paltry and selfish jealousy in 
their minds : we know he did not mean 
it, but his indiscreet and unguarded 
language, by seeming to hint at such a 
feeling of rivalry, goes far to create it. 

It is not from any disrespect to Mr. 
Hamilton that we enter thus warmly 
on this subject ; but surely on reflection, 
that gentleman will agree with us that 
such language as he employt'd is un- 
guarded, and calculated to do harm. It 
could serve no good end — it could not 
add to the force of his arguments to 
speak of unfairness towards those who 
had suggested a different plan of pro- 
ceeding. If the reasons which influenced 
him to give his opinion against the re- 
vival of Orangeism applied equally to 
the establishment of a Conservative 
society, then his course was so to state 
them — if they did not so apply, then 
his former opinion had nothing what- 
ever to do with the present case. Our 
readers, we trust, will feel that we do 
not dwell unnecessarily upon this point. 
We could not permit even Mr. Hamil- 
ton's authority to sanction a senti- 
ment most mischievous to the cause of 
Protestantism — one that, if acted on, 
would for ever destroy all hope of 
united exertion. The principle of his 
excuse is this — that in disapi)roving of 
one course of action he pledged him- 
self to join in no other, because those 
who put forward a plan that is not 
accepted have reason to think them- 
selves badly treated if the suggestions 
of any other are adopted in their stead. 
It is only necessary to call his own 
attention to the nature of this senti- 
ment — to make him regret that even 
he should for an instant have appeared 
to countenance it. 

We now come to the general argu- 
ment of Mr. Hamilton's letter — he 
advises us to wait until Protestant for- 
bearance has been still further abused 
— to remain patient under injuries, 
that we may gain the pity of the lookers- 
on, and to bear all the indignities 
that may be heaped upon us, that we 
may excite by our uncomplaining and 
patient innocence the sympathies of 
the good, benevolent people of Eng- 
land in our cause. 



Our plsdn answer to this advice is, 
that there is no time to wait. ** Hope 
deferred, maketh the heart sick ;** and 
the heart of the Protestant people of 
Ireland is sinking under the repeated 
promises of the last four years. 
There have been •* wait-a-whiles" 
through all that period — men who, 
would indefinitely adjourn the pe- 
riod of Protestant exertion, and keep 
it still not in the future tense, but in 
that which grammarians call the paulo 
post future ; we say that there is or 
rather was no time to be lost — ^the 
spirit of Protestantism was sinking; 
and had all persons acted like Mr. 
Hamilton, it might have been that 
when the convenient and prudent 
season came for his appeal, he would 
have had nothing to appeal to. 
" Live horse and you will get grass," 
is an homely but an expressive illustra- 
tive. We know of no more striking 
exemplification of Mr. Hamilton's ad<^ 
vice. 

We do not depreciate the importance 
of gaining the sympathies of the Eng- 
lish people to our cause ; but we can- 
not see how we will damp that sym- 
pathy by appearing earnest in our 
cause. Common sense will certainly 
tell us the contrary. Itwtu a movenient 
of the Protestantt of Ireland that wi" 
seated the Whigs in 1834; and while 
our enemies could appeal to the inac- 
tion of Irish Protestants as a proof 
that they acquiesce in the present state 
of afl'airs, it is vain to expect that 
others will share an interest in their 
cause that they did not manifest them- 
selves. 

** Si vis tne flere dolendum.'* 
•* Primum ipii tibi." 

If we do not show that we resent 
our wrongs, surely it is a Quixotic ex- 
pectation to hope that others will be 
indignant at them — and yet it is by 
appearing indifferent to our own pre- 
servation, that we are told that we can 
best enlist the feeling of England in 
our behalf. 

But let us at once answer all those 
who talk about interesting the people of 
England by our inaction. ( A most in- 
teresting sight truly to a lion-hearted 
nation, to behold two millions of men 
enduring all kinds of insult and injus- 
tice, and not deigning to raise a 
murmur of remonstrance or complaint) 
We answer them by an appeal to 
the two simple facts by a statement 
of which we commenced this paper. 
Our enemies liave now the voice of 



10 



ProieiiatU MovemenU in Irdand, 



[Jan* 



Ireland in their favour — the voice of 
IrelaiidUeonstitutiormll)' hc*rJ throug*h 
her represeDUiTves — uiid while they 
have a majority of thu»e repreflenta* 
tivcs they have a right to say ihat the 
voice of Ireland is with ihem. How 
much additional force does thia answer 
acquire when we recollect^ that it is by 
the Irish memljers, by those whom our 
folly aud cowardice permit our oppo- 
neiitit to return to parhameul that the 
Anti-Proteetiifit ministry are kept in 
power. England is true to tii« caujte 
of the Iriah ProtestaDts, but the Irish 
Prot^itants are not true to iltentwt\>es. 

This was happily and powerfully 
urged by Mr. West, in his admirable 
speech at the meeting on the i*ith, in 
moving a resolution relating to the re- 
gitftrieSf he said truly — 

** The resolution which I am n«keij to 
propose funiiabes me with an ample 9ub^ 
ject, but what Irish Protestant can speak 
to it without shume and sorrow ? It 
recitae thut memoralilu declaration of our 
Coastirvalive leader, * that the battle of 
^tbe Constitution is to be fought at the 
'vgistriet,' that maxim so W(«ll reniem* 
Ijt^red in Scotland — so tliorottghly under- 
stood in EDgland^^forgoiteii only in 
Ireland* The Scottish Fresbyturi&ni 
faithful to his own Church, and retaining 
all his notions of liberRiityi recollects, 
nevertheless, that Protestuiitism is the 
living principle of the CoDstitution ; and* 
weing Protestantism assailed even in Ire> 
landi he has armed himself for battle at 
the refj^istrr. No EngUshmAn will endure 
the appbcntioti of a principle injurious to 
his birth- ri^ht of freedom, even ni » a other 
land* Yet the person of a Scotchman 
ift in no danger ^ the property off an 
English man is 8«cure. The Irish Pro. 
ttsstant aluni*. upoD whom tha danger is 
preying, shrinks from tbe disebar^^e of a 
•acred duty, and leaves the enemies of 
his faith to take the bene6t of the le^i^ou 
taught by the wisdom of Sir Robttrt 
PeeL*' 

At the same time, Professor Butt 
gave utterance to sentiments which we 
confess are exactly identical, even in 
iheir form of expression with our own : 

^* There arc those who look upon our 
pniceediiigB hh ini politic. My Icitrued 
friend^ Mr» We«l, has told yon of some 
who would have us put olT ottr exerlions 
until that very indefinite p^iod, when it 
may please a Wbig-Rndie«il Mitiinlry to 
be iishiimed oi their art)^. Others would 
have us wait until the re-!u:tioii of Eng- 

hiiid in our lavutir rnuy be com[»Iete 

K«r be it (funi me to dc|ireciHle tlie value 



of English sympathy in our faroar ; but 
I confess that I do not understand the 
arguments by which men would penuade 
me that the most effectual means of en* 
listing English feeling in our cause, i» to 
appear indifferent to it ourselves. Be- 
lieve me, sir, that sympathy in our camev 
like charity, be^nns at borne* I romtm- 
ber to have read an anecdote oi an 
Athenian orator, who was requested by 
a citizen to plead his caus« before the tri- 
bunak of his country^ The apphcaut re- 
peated the tale of his wrongs with the 
coolness of narrative. *I do not think,* 
said tbe advocfite, coolly, * tbut you have 
been injured at all/ * What !* cried the 
citizen, kindled into indignation by the 
denial, ♦ Have I not been injured in my 
property — have I not been shnmefulty 
maltreated ?' But now there was a ve- 
hemence in tbe manner of his account, 
*1 believe you now,* said the oratorr 
'you speak like an injured man.* Just 
such, I conceive, mil be the arguments of 
Englitfibmen, if our advocates tell them 
that our rights are invaded — that our 
lives are insecure — that our religion is 
persecuted — while all tbe while no voice 
of remonstrance or complaint is heard 
from the Irish Protestants. Wliat must 
they think ? No, Sir, Let us speak like 
injured men, and then it will be belieiFed 
that we are ao.*' 

And again — J 

" Have we no example of the danger | 
of trusting to others while we neglect to 
make exertions ourselves? Before tbe 
last election we were told to truat to the 
feeling of the English people — and what 
v^itft the conseq,uencc of our paying atten- 
tion to the advice? Our gracious Mo- 
narch remembered hi» Irish Protestant 
subjects ; for our sakes he changed hi» 
advisers ; on our cause he appealed to hia 
people, and the English people responded 
10 his appeal They returned a majority 
determined to do us juatice, but we were 
wniilinp lo ourselves- — the Irish members 
turned tlic scnle. Here, then, I* my 
answer to those who tell us to look to 
England, and imagine that in order to do 
}«» we should *it down inactive ourselves. 
Hud the Conservatives in Ireland, pot- 
siHiStng as they do an incalculable prepon- 
derance of the weal til, the intellect, and 
the property of the country, been able nl 
the ia»t election to divide the representa- 
tioa with thrir op^ionenta, Sir Robert 
Peel would now be Premier, and Iri*li 
Protestants would be secure. No more, 
then, of trusting lo British symputhy, if 
ihut tru:»t id to be tbe caui»t* ol our \}wn 
inut'tion. J do not, I n^peut, deny the 
irn|HUUince ot h^iving public iVcliit^ ill 



I 



A 



18^7.] 



Proie^tant 



in Ireland. 



n 



Eni^land witli us ; but I do not hesitate 
to tuy, thdt lUe roan who now iells us to 
sliiLmn froTD exertion, in tW hope of being 
protooted by Enfiflund is* whether inten- 
LioQiilly or uut^ moat niiachievoui to our 

We qnotp this latter passag-e, because 
its argUTiK^nt is ii mutter of fact tipuu 
whleh» every one is capable ofjud^ing-, 
tind which loses none of its force by 
beiiL^ put forward in plain and simple 
language. Ii is in fact, one of the un- 
anRWcmble eommon^^seuse arg-uments 
which a piLiio man can best put forward 
in all their Inrce^and which could derive 
no additional force from the most elo- 
quent terms in which they could be 
convened. 

Precisely similar was the language 
employed by Mr. Emerson Tctment^ 
at the dinner ^'w^^w at Banbrldge, to 

Lords Hillsboroug^h and Cuittlereagh. 

The broad and startling fact was thus 
jdaioly stated by that i^cutlcman at 
ihii great and inOuential assemblage : 

« The ruin of Sir Robert Peet» admi^ 
utMi ration wan the indvknce of tJit Irish 
ProtestanUt ; the reliancet the only singh 
support of Ltord Methourne's Government 
waM the same ruinous and disastrous apathy 
andindifftrence. Atthehi^itfilfictinDi Eng- 
land was thorou|fhly aroused and awRken- 
«d ; and what was the result? That she 
returned a majority to support Sir 
Robert Peel ; whereas Ireland, sluggish 
and ioActiTe, though by no means indif- 
ferent, lay quietly by, and pf^rmitted a 
majority of twenty-lhrett to he returned 
again Bt him. En^hsh ardour and exer- 
tion would have maintaiued hi^i i^overn- 
mcut, but the inactivity Rud mdo^ence of 
the PruteAlauta of Ireland counteracted 
thoir influence, and »f^atcd Mr. O'Gonnell 
and Lord Melbourne in hi» place. 

** It was a lamentable hut an indispu- 
table 6ict, (continued this eloquent speak- 
er*) thai for some yearei past, there had 
been n latent force in the country, sufii- 
cieotf if reyisterBdt to have (<iven an over- 
wltetming majority in the House of Crom- 
monftj but that the landlords and persons 
of influence have never, till now, shown 
ihe il ighte»t disposition to avail them- 
selves of it» aid, or to a«certaia and enrol 
llieir own Hvalhdrle numbers.'^ 

Let the painful truth be ever borne 
in mind, thut it is the Irish members 
that rtini the scale in the Hou»e of 
C *mraoii8 a^ainat the cause of josiice. 
Let the lii^h Prote^tauls ponder un 
rt>is fftCt,^ — let them understand it in all 
lis beuringd, — and then let them act as 
in their conmcuces ihcv believe U re- 



quired by their duty to their country, 
their religion, and their OcmJ. 

In the observaliona with which we 
intend to occupy the remainder of tlie 
space we have allotted to this article, 
we shall not aim at any regularity iti 
treating of topics, bnt throw out such 
sugtrestions as may occur to us in the 
order in which ihey arise. Since we 
began to write we have seen with infi- 
nite Balbfaction the ref|uijiilion signed 
by eight nibble lords, convening a 
meeting on the 24th of January. Never 
had we more pleasore in transferring a 
document to our jiages. 

** We, the undersigned, re^juest a meet- 
ing of the Protestant noblemen, gentle- 
men, clergy, and Innded proprietors of 
Ireland^ in the Great Room at tlia 
Mansion-house, in the city of Dublin, on 
Tuesday, the '24th day of Januaryj IBiJT, 
at twelve o'clock, for the ptirpose of pe- 
titioning both housea of pafliamcnt, pray- 
ing them to adopt i>uch measures as will 
give protettiun to the Protestants of 
Ireland, and prepare a l#yal and dutiful 
address to his Majesty, c:iliing his most 
serious attention ta the imminent dangers 
whith threaten the liberties of all cliisses 
of his Majesty's loyal subjects in Ireland, 
and the attempts which are making to 
undermine and destroy the Protectant 
religion in this kingdom* 

" DOWNSHIILG, j BaKDON, 

FaHNHAM, I DOWNES, 

DUNSANY, I EnNISEILLEK, 

KODEN, I GlENGALL. 

** Admisfliou to the meeting will be by 
til kets, to be issued by the Committee of 
Arrangement, of which further notice 
will be given." 

AVc feel persuaded that the mreting 
convened under sueb auspices, will be 
wurthy of the cause which it is de- 
signed to i^trve ; and wc can hurdly 
bring ourselves to believe that the re- 
monstrance proposed to be conveyed 
from Irish Protectants to the legislature, 
and the monarch will he altogether 
disregarded. 

At the same time, we confess, I hat 
we look to the pniposed meeting as 
important, principiilly ua it may he the 
means of exciting the Protestant spirit 
in the country that may be tlirected 
into a practicfil chiinnel. Our appeals 
to the legislature will not be disre- 
garded, when we hiive a miijority of 
the Irish re[irescnt.itives to support 
them* To gain this majority slionid 
be the object which Irish Conservatives 
should propose lo thcutsclves. It only 
ucedd u little exertion to attain it, and 



12 



p9*oUjttani MovefiienU in Ireland* 



I 



I 
I 



I 



this one attained* tlic ouuse of Irish 
Protestantism is secure* 

We perceive that by the terras of 
the requisiition the olycct of ihe meet- 
ing is strictly limited 4o the prepum- 
tion of add r ess e^ to I)i>t1i houses of 
legfishiture and the king^. While we 
are prepared to expect on this occasion 
a grand and heart-eheenucr deinoiistm- 
tioii of Protestant strength, that may 
carry viith ita moral iafliK-nce of which 
It 15 not easy to eatculate the effects, 
let the Prolcstuuts of Ireland be 
well assured of this troth — th;it all the 
g^reat meetuigs (hey can convene, and 
all the eloquence, dod rank, and intln- 
euce they may asat^mble to sofiport their 
cause, will avail them nntbin;^* abso- 
ItJtel}' nothing, If the muter is to end 
there. The klniiliu!^ of enthusiasm ts 
in the fact the raisin;^ of the steam — 
its power must be found in its proper 
appUeation to working^ muchinery — it 
is useless, if it be permitted to expend 
itself in escapinir — and men sit clown 
to admire the wreathes into which it 
shapes itself. The persons that will 
come from every part of Ireland io 
response to this appeal, must go home 
uj^'ain with the full conviction, that no- 
thing: hds been done until the battle of 
the coTi-ititution is fought syeccssfnliy 
in the constituenciea of IrelaD<l^ — until 
— {we are fond of returning to onr old 
point)— a majority of the representatives 
of Ireland declare on the side of justice 
to her Protestant population. 

That this would be the result of an 
active and zealous exertion on the part 
of the Protectants of Irebntl, we have 
no doubt. We speak not now of exer- 
tion which it would require time to 
mature ; but we say, that by proper 
cjtcrtion twelve months mijfht give the 
Protestants <d' Ireland the command of 
ift nijiyority of its representation. Let 
^ ll Conservative Associations be 
fenncd in every borough and county in 
Ireland, mid very soon the object will 
be attained* 

It is of course almost impossible, 
without local nturns fmm evtrry eon- 
,*litnency ro obtain perfect uccnraey in 
icalculatums of this iiiiture ; btit we 
thirik w»' will be able to point out the 
'piirlieular representations in which a 
change might easily be effected in form 
of the constitution. We will lir?! lay 
UeJore our readers the actual state of 
the representation.— Ireland sends 105 
members to the Imperial Parliament ; 
two seats are at present vacant : tliere 
remains ItlJJ member^ of whom 41 are 
ConBcrvativcs, and 02 OCouncIiilci ; 




of the vacancies, otie (Longford) i§ 
occasioned by a Conservative, the other | 
(Dungarvan) by an O'Connellite ; and 
wc believe the probabilities are that 
Sioth will be filled yp without making 
any alterations in the prttportions of 
parties. We shall, at least, consider 
them in the following tables in this fl 
light — Let us divide the coustiluencies I 
of Ireland into three classes : county 
constituencies, those of boroughs re- 
in rning two members, those of boroughs 
returning one, and the following are 
the proportions in \vhich ihey are 
divided : — 



County members, 
First class towns 

and boroughs, 
Second class, do. 

Total, 



euascrf^tivn rOToDnellilnb 

24 40 



6 
12 

4*2 



8 
15 

63 



Let us go through each class sepa-* 
rately, and endeavour to ascertain the 
probable gain or Iosh by a dissolution 
of parliament, if in the interim proper 
exertions were made by the Con- 
servatives. 

In the county votes a very conii- 
dcrable change might be efteeted in 
favour of Conservatism. In Antrim 
there will be no contest i Lord Belfast 
will give way to an honest man. In 
Armagh it would not be difficult to 
disfdaee Lord Acheson, although we 
admit it might involve a struggle : and 
in Monaghan there is only wanted a 
Conservative candidate to erisure the 
turning ont of Mr, Weetenra. In the 
County Cork it is just pttsaible that we 
might gain a vote. It is, however, we 
fear, more probable that we may lose 
one : but, unquestionably, by propter 
exertion, both the members of this 
great county might be CouHcrvatives* 
In Dublin connty the Conservatives 
could easily gain ihe two members ; 
and 80 could they in VVicklow. There 
arc connties to which we do not allude, 
in which we believe it would not be 
impossible to turn the scale against the 
priests. We believe, indeed, that there 
are few counties in Ireland which it i» 
not within the limits of txcrtion to 
rescue ; but we wish now to shew what 
is plainly practicable — and there is no 
one acquainted with the stite of the 
constituencies who will say that wc are 
over sanguine in calculating, that of 
the county members the Conservatives 
rniiiht, by a little exerlion, gain six — 
and this even ftllowing for the loss of 
one. 



I 



I 



1837.] 



Ptotestant Movements in Ireland. 



13 



Of the boroughs returning two mem- 
bers each, Dublin, Belfast, nnd the 
University are secure to the Conserva- 
tives. Galway, and we fear we may 
add for the present. Limerick, Cork, 
and Waterford, to the radicals. 

We now come to the boroughs re- 
turning one member each. It needs 
but active and disinterested exertion to 
rescue from the O'Connell party Ar- 
magh, Clonmel, Colerain, Newry, 
Tralee, Portarlington, and Youghal. 
Indeed, in both Newry and Youghal 
the Conservative interest is already 
secure. From this, however, we must 
deduct one for Drogheda, where, we 
fear, a change, not for the better, would 
be effected. This reduces the Conser-. 
vative gain to six. 

In these calculations we have endea- 
voured cautiously to avoid all exagge- 
ration of our strength. We have rather 
reckoned the seats which are lost by 
indolence, than those which might be 
gained by exertion. And we have little 
doubt that were common and ordinary 
precautious taken to ensure success, 
another election would add 12 to the 
Irish Conservative members. This 
would give us 54 members out of 105, 
a majority of the representation. 

It must be remembered, that we 
have entered on this calculation simply 
with a view of presenting to the minds 
of our readers atangible proposal of what 
it is possible by exertion to effect. Our 
calculations may be perhaps erroneous ; 
what is future is matter or speculation ; 
but of one thing we are certain, that 
experience testifies for the past, that 
whenever the Irish Conservatives have 
put forth the energies of men impressed 
with the sacredness of their cause, they 
have been triumphant — even where 
exertion seemed most hopeless. It is 
not long since the city of Dublin was re- 
garded as the very stronghold of radical- 
ism — the untiring energies of one indi- 
vidual first won the victory — which the 
exertions of a few have now rendered 
secure. Let the glorious example of Mr. 
West teach Conservatives every where 
what may be done by one single hearted, 
undaunted man — let the issueof the long 
and protracted contest for the City of 
Dublin teach us this — that no seat 
should be abandoned without a contest, 
and no contest terminate without a 
petition. Of the actually qualified 
voters of Ireland the immense ma- 
jority are on our side. It is by 
voters, the creation of such judges 
as Mr. Gibson, and Mr. Hudson, 



that the voice of the bona fide electors 
is overcome. Let the Conservatives 
of Ireland set themselves to the task of 
purifying the constituencies, with the 
determination of men who feel that all 
that is dear to them is at stake. Let 
every county in Ireland be contested 
with the determination that an appeal 
to the House of Commons must follow 
their defeat. Let them brinj? the frau- 
dulent manufactures of political judges 
to the bar of the British House of 
Commons ; and let them only yield 
the contest when they are beaten by a 
fair majority of those to whom the 
legislature intended the franchise should 
be confided. 

To do all this, local associations are 
necessary, and local associations we 
must have. We want no agitation, w^e 
want no unconstitutional organization, 
but simply societies whose object it 
shall be to secure a fai^ representation 
for the sentiments and feelings of the 
really qualified voters of the constitu« 
encies of the country. 

It is time that this article should 
draw to a close. We had intended to 
have glanced at the different meetings 
which have been held throughout the 
Ireland, and to have drawn from the 
eloquence and reasoning which they 
have been the occasion of presenting 
to the public some little of the much 
that is worthy of being preserved. But 
we must have done. We rejoice to find 
that every part of Ireland is awake, 
and that many local meetings are about 
to kindle the flame of Protestant ardour 
in their respective districts. All we 
ask is that the flame so kindled be not 
permitted to waste itself, but that the 
excitement thus produced be directed 
into practical channels. 

One or two suggestions, perhaps of 
minor import, and we have done. We 
would suggest to the friends of Con- 
servative principles, whenever they 
may deem it expedient to report the 
proceedings of a meeting, to admit the 
press of both parties. They have no- 
thing to fear from publicity, and they 
may lose something by exclusion. We 
say emphatically we are advocates on 
such occasions for the free and indis- 
criminate admission of the press : it 
leaves the opposition papers no excuse 
for not putting our statements before 
their readers ; and it is in the columns 
of the radical journals that those state- 
ments can effect most good. 

We would suggest to the Metropo- 
litan Conservative Society that they 



14 



Pf*ole$iani Movements Jreiand. 



[Jail. 



could not better employ a small por- 
iian of their fiiuck than in r<*prititirig 
and circulatinjr, in ihe sliape of pam- 
phlets, ihe reports of such Conservative 
meeting-s a* may ijppear worthy of 
lii^ini^ preserved : be^iiimiiig with their 
own on the KJth, let them bnngr up 
the arrear for those tliat have since 
ijiken pbce» and cuiiiinue a connected 
series that may be a record of the seu- 
tiuieuts and movements of the Pro- 
testants of h el and. 

We have thrown out these few ob- 
servatjot^ imconnectedly and hurriedly. 



If they shall b^ the mean? of exciting 
the Protestants of Ireland to a sente 
of the heavy and grievous res ponsibilrty 
that belongs to those that remdtn in- 
active, our object is gained- It i* now 
no fiction to eay that every man should 
feel as if the issue depended on his 
own individual exertion. No individual 
can tell but in the perilous and doubtful 
contest in which we are engug'ed he 
may be the unit that will turn the 
tremblinij scale* and incline the ba- 
lance for ever to the side of order, of 
Protestantism, and of the constitution. 



P.S. — We have just seen the account 
of the Belfast dinner, and a s|dcndid 
gathering it was — a festival worthy of 
the metropolie of Protestant and Coiv 
servative Ulster. Eleven hundred and 
fidy -eight honest and souod-beiiited 
Protestants eat down to dinner—men 
loyal to their King and true to their 
reli^on, and determined to support the 
one and protect the other against nil 
the menaces of a thousand agitators. 
It is Q glorious and a cheering thing to 
see these demonstrations of attachment 
to the cause of truth — it is still more 
cheering to find Belfast the scene of 
such a tnumphant manifestation of right 
principle — perhaps our opponents will 
tell us that here there is no evidence of 
reaction. 

The proceedings of this diniter must 
be re-printed and presented in a shape 
more permanent than the fleeting co- 
lumns of a newspaper. Let the Belfast 
Society circulate them through the 
North, and the Metropolitan Society 
through the South of Ireland. The 
speech of Mr, O^SuUivan contains an 
argument which has never previously 
been put before the public in its ful- 
ness, and which we confess appears to 
us unanswerable. The speech of Dr. 
Cook is worth .gold. The eloquence 
I of this great man dashes to pieces the 
[affectation and cant of those who pre- 
ttend to think that the best way of 
mcuiifesting attachment to the cause of 
truth is to remain neutral where truth 
is attacited. We know of several who 
think themselves very good and wise 
men whose sentimental affectation uf 
standing aloof from politics, might find 
a useful lesson in the manly sentiments 
uttered by one of the mo^t firm as well 
as ablest ministers of the day. Would 
to God, that we had men of the spirit of 
Dr. Cook diHused throughout ail who 

ofiest a zeal for religion. 



23r<f Dccembtr. 
Conservative festivals are in uUip ly- 
ings- Omu^h is about to follow the 
example of Belfast. On Thursday the 
fifth of January the Conservatives of 
Tyrone assemble to form a Conserva- 
tive Society .and have wisely determined 
to close the proceedings of the day by 
a dinner, Tlie Protestant feeling of 
Ulster is awake — the sturdy spirit of 
the people of '' the Black North'* is 
roused. We cannot resist making one 
statement from Dr. Cook's splendid 
speech at Belfai«t— it expresses all that 
we could say in language, which we 
could not hope to rival. 

" DeBjiondency I Cons^n'ative despon- 
dency ! ! Ah I I hiive it ; 1 riwollect a 
Bceno where there was great despondency. 
It was on the memorable plain of Water- 
loo when the scourge of nations gummoned 
up all his energies for nne lost fearful 
struggle for existence and victory. Over 
the battle field of France the cloud of war 
gather&d, and concentrated its terrors- 
Forcthle as tha avahinchc of the Alps, it 
thunders onward, and sweeps away resis- 
tance- Resistance 1 reii stance there is 
none. Around the " meteor flag" of 
England there is nought but close-lipped 
silence and tremlding despondency : not 
a sohtary token of hope appears. The 
once proud array of Britain seems as 
crouched in craven cowardice, while the 
artillery of France is playing fearfully 
over thera. The iron columns still thun- 
der onward ; but just when Frnnce's vic- 
tory seems secure, the eajfle eye ot Britain's 
commander discerns the fated room en U 
and his lip vibrates with the electric word 
— ** Up guards and at them." (Deafening 
cheers.) From that still, peaceful field, 
stiirts the chi^^lry of England — One 
charge, one fearful charge of Britain** 
resistless bayonets^ and the columna of 
France are scattered like the li^fht chaff 
of the threshing floor hefme the wiudi ot 
the winter* (Cheers.) And such is our 



1837.] A Viiion of Judgments 15 

CoDMrvative despondency! Yes, we're Thk id just the despondency of 

in a deep fit of Waterloo despondency, the Pfbtestants of Ireland — Waterloo 

( Hear, hear. ) Calm, recumUent, collected, despondency I The spirit of the Black 

not^Taunting ito prowess, but husbanding North is aroused, and blade indeed will 

its resources ; knowing its rights, and de-. it prove to the ambition of the faction 

termined to defend them (cheers), peace- that seek to trample on the rights and 

ftil, and therefore guilty of no aggression, liberties of Protestants, 
brave, and determined to suffer none. 
(Hear.)" 



A VISION OF JUDGMENT. 

In the grey depth of that unliving shade — 
That sunless world, where sleep enchains the frame 

With unfelt bonds : Like the Cumean maid, 
Through phantom-peopled vales, realms without name. 

While Sybil Fancy leads, — methought I strayed ; 
And a dread vision o*er my spirit came. 

In shadowy prospect near, a ghastly crowd- 
Knight, noble, priest, stood bound in strange dismayt 

And cowered — as village fowl, when from its cloud 
The Olympian bf rd stoops nigh. Some knelt to pray ; 

Some held vague council ; others wept aloud; 
Some tried to cheat blank fear with mockery gay. 

But fear prevsdled. And at each far-heard sound. 
Mock, laugh, lament, to ghastlier silence rolled. 

From eye to eye the chain of fear ran round, 
In panic's icy spell till all stood pale and cold ! 

—I gazed upon the vision, darkly bound 
In the dread shadow of that fear untold. 

Next, — as a gathering tempest slowly grows 
Above the silence of calmed seas, there came 

Portentous noises. Doubtful murmurs rose, 
And rumors dark of malcontent and blame. 

Of lurking treasons and domestic foes — 
Surmises fearful, without shape or name. 

Yet, came a pause, — a brief bright interval — 
As the fleet sun-glimpse on some shadowy plain, 

Or brown moor gliding, or on clouded main 
I saw hope's golden gleam down-breaking, fall 

Amid the darkness of ^eir fears :--and all 

Forgot fear's very name. Gay smiles again 
Burst forth like spring-flowers ; hopes and fond desires. 

And restless wishes-— frolics glad and gay — 
Projects and busy schemes — brief loves and ires — 
Life's still repeated round, which never mortal tires. 

But while they thought not, fate was on the way ! 
Even as the revel gained its height — outbroke. 

Above the light strain and the laughing lay, 
A fearful cry ! — Like the electric stroke 

That blasts to blackness bare the woods : it shed 
O'er lips yet severing with the reckless joke. 

The ghastly paleness of the sheeted dead ; 

And laughing eyes I saw contract with sudden dread. 
Conflicting counsels rose, — to fight, fly, wait. 
But every counsel as it came, was late. 



16 4 Vision bf Ju^^ment. ' [Jan 

Then lo ! rushed in, red aff from some street brawl» 

An uncouth rabble, which made mock of state. 
With ruffian pomp — uttering such jeers, as crawl 
Like vipers to the breast, and as they fall 

Wither all hope of mercy ! Darkly then 
They spoke of equal laws, and natural right. 

And swore Astrea's age was come again — 

That thrones should fall, and public wisdom reign, 
And virtue, justice, liberty unite. 

But every word they spoke meant some fierce opposite. 

By heaven abandoned — to themselves untrue — 
On fate's dark verge men 'stood and wavered still — 

Just firm enough to anger that fell crew. 
And only yielding to provoke fresh ill. 

They compromised — while each concession drew 
Fresh claims, each mandate of a fiercer will. 

Then came the fearful and the guilty hour 

Such human eye hath seen — conception's power 
Dream*t never, or speech uttered. Yet it past. 

Leaving its crimson tracks on field and bower. 
Proud structures raised, the storms of time to outlast 

Lay heaped — the ruin of a moment's rage. 
Tower, temple, mansion, in confusion vast 

Were mingled. There the tuneful and the sage, 
The brave, the fair, the great, the good, the just. 

The priest, the altar, and the sacred page. 
All things of power or pride, of love or trust. 

Lay crushed together in one crimson dust 

Next as the changes of a dream appear, 

I saw the homicidal multitude 
Gaze on each other with the eye of fear. 

Justice stole back, disguised with smile severe. 
Among the striving miscreants, where they stood 

Around a block with gory garlands dressed — 
Avenging virtue with their own base blood. 

A rule of many tyrants all opprest. 
Where each became a slave or victim to the rest. 

A nation's cry arose, and o'er the land 

A giant phantom, waved its iron hand, 
And checked the brawlers with their self-wrought chain 

Till all grew still. Then eame a marshalled band 
And reared a ponderous throne — which sore did strain 

Upon the necks of the perfidious crowd. 
Last rose the clang of arms o'er sea and land. 

As the high trumpet broke sleep's shadowy cloud, 
And that crowned Phantom raised his battle cry aloud. 



1837.] The Triumph of Music. 17 



THE TRIUMPH OF MUSIC* 

BY JOHN AN8TEB, LL,D, 

Lonely was .the blossoming 

Of the sad unwelcomed Spring ; 

Aiid Man, the slave of passions blind and brute, 

A wanderer in a world where all was mute. 

Sound for the ear, or symbol for the heart 

Was none ; and Music was ^ later birth — 
The thoughts, we find no language to imparf. 

Die — and thus LoVe was dying from the earth. 

Then of the Heavenly was there a revealing. 

That harmonized tne chaos of Man's breast ; 
Above — around*^within~-the hidden feelhig 

•Found language — Music is but Love expressed. 
The nightingale in every rich love-note 

To Man speaks love ; and, when the vexed wind rushes 
Throueh moaning forests,' Man*s inind is afloat 

In the wild symphony. The liquid gushes 
Of the thin tinkling rivulet — the tone 
Of Zephyrus, that whispers Flowers half-blown, 
Tempting the lingerers to dare the May — 
Do tn^ not with them wile Man*s heart away ? 
And oft, as in a car of fire.'elate 

The soul ascends, on Music's wings, in g1eam» 
Of momentary triumph^ to Heaven's gate — 

A happy wanderer in the world of dreams ! 

• Spell, that soothest, elevatest. 
Language of the land unknown. 
Music, earliest charm and latest. 
In gladness and in gladness gone ! 

Shrieking in his mother's arms 

Infant passions vex the child -, — 
Murmur low the lulling charms, 

Pain b soothed and reconciled. 

Magic mystery of .nun^bers, 
. Tnine to sootiie away, and lighten 
Grief-^and thine the cradled slumbers 
With thy dreams of gold to brighten. 



To the daqce !— to the dance ! — ^*iis the summer4ime of life 
And Music invites — to the danc6 — to the dance — 

Old age fias its sorrows, and manhood its strife. 
Care darkens the forehead, dispirits the glance. 

For the weary hath Music its accents of healiiig ; 

But in yobth what a charm in each jubilee-note ; 
To the dance — to the dance !— How the rapturous feeling 

Gives wings to the feet — sends the spirit afloat ! 



* These lines were written from imperfect recollection of a €i£m%poemy intro- 
ductory to a piece of music of Spohr's. ^ 

V«i IX- c 



18 Thp Triumph ofMu^ic. [Jfcw. 

With tb« Joyous doth Music rejoice ! 

Tis the stilly time of night. 

And the soft star-light 

Smiles in heaven-^nd— hark — the guitar ! 
And hush — 'tis the young lover's voice 

To his own — ^to his earthly star. 

And she is his — in Yain-.-iq vain 
Would woman burst the magic chain 
Of love and love4nwovcn sound i^-^ 
Love-inwoven Sounds-«-ye come. 
And are language to the dumb, 
Heal the wounded neart-^ttie hard heart ye wound ! 

To the battle— to the battle— Hurry out — 
To the tumult-^-4md the shriek and the shdnt : 
Hark the bugle— how it thrills—" To the strife"— 
•• What is life?"— and the trumpets" What is life?" 
In every tune is Victory — bow they scatter into air, 
Before the sunny Music, clouds of doubt, and fear, and care. 
Already is the triumph won — ^prophetic Fancy weaves. 
Dyed in the blood of enemies, the wreath of laurel leaves. 

Wild in the war-whoop your ominous voices 
We hear o>r the battle-field pealing aloft— 

Peace smiles : in her sweet smile the green earth rejoices 
And welcoming Music comes mellow and soft. 

Slow down cathedral aislas streams prayer and praise, 

As home returning from the battle-field 
Their hands and hearts the joyous victors raise 

To Him, wha in the battle was their ahidid. 

Listen to the death-bell tolling. 
And its accents of consoling. 
Telling, to the long oppietsed, 
That the weary is at rest. 
To the mourner whispering 
Of an everlasting spring ; 
Soothing, thus and reconciling. 
Softening, and to tears beguilmg 
With their measured murmurs deep 
Agony, that could not weep ! 

Mysterious tones ! and is it that you are 

The dreamy voices, of a world unknown, 
Heard faintly from the Paradise afar. 

Our Fathers' home, and yet to be our own ! 

Breathe on I breathe on, sweet tones — still sing to me. 

Still sing to me of that angcKc shore. 
That I may dream myself in heaven to be, 

And fa,ncy life and all its sorrows o'er! 



J 837. J Napoleon's Midnighi Review. 



NAPOLEONS MIDNIGHT RBVlBW. 

FROM THE GERMAN OF BARON ZEDUTZ. 

Adapted to the! French Air, <« Le Petit Tkmbour." 

BY BOBBBT GILriLLAK. 

At midnight hour is heard 

A wild and wailing sound ; 
The spectre-drummer leaves his gmve, 

Parading round and round ; 
His fleshless hands they play 

With drumsticks on the drum — 
And now the martial reveille. 

Or roll-call notes, they come. 
So strangely does he plasr* 

That, wakening to the strab. 
Old soldiers from their gory sleep 

Start up to life again ! 
Those in the frozen north. 

Who feel 'ncath Russian sway, 
And those who from Italians grave 

Return not back to-day. 
Arabia's desert teems. 

And Nile ^ves up her slain ; 

And lo I in ghostly armour clad. 

They crowd the ranks amain ! 

And from his midfl%ht tomb 

The trumpeter does come, 

And shrilly answers with his blast 

The summons of the drum. 
All on their airy steeds 

The warrior throng are seen, 
With many a gashed and gory wound. 

And visage dark, I ween. 
To grasp the flashing sword 
Their bony hands aspire ; 
But, from their grinning skulls, the eyes 

Give out no wonted fire ! 
At midnight's lonely hour 

The Chief of all the band, 
On blanched steed comes slowly forth 

To give the still command ! 
He wears no badge of war — 

No mark of kingly fame. 

Nor plume, nor glittering star 

Aad splendour to his name. 

A little sword hangs sheath *d 

His shadowy form beside ; 

But all the hero's fire is gone. 

And all the monarch's pride ! 
The moon looks from the sky 

On the spectral forms below. 
And he who reins the blanched steed 

From rank to rank does go. 
The souadrons greet their Chief — 

In silence greet they him ; 
Save when the drum and trumpet notes 

Rise o'er the phalanx dim ! 
Around him marshals come. 

And generals bend the sword ; 
And see ! the Chieftain stoops to one. 
And gives a whispering word. ' 



Id 



.,^ 



Antobiogitphif of the 

That word flics round the ranks. 

With lightning sv^iRnesR driven. 
'Tia " France !" their watchword — " St* Helene !'* 

The password qaickly given. 
'Tis thtia at midnight hour 

The spirits of the slain 
Assemble round a mighty Chief 

That troubteth not agaiu I 



TIIK JIUTOBIOGRApTIY OV TirE REV. BLAI KTIIORS M^FLAlL, LATE P,P* 

|>F BALLYJWACWHACKEM. 

Written by his Cousin, th« Her. Plitdlira MTtm, RotnHti Cathiitk ll«<tor ot Ball jmarfiralUiMii. 

INTRODL^CnON. 

wkli a lengthened face Rnd a Bolemn 
shake of the head, 

** Ah, Father Phedlim, it*s all over 
with me : 1 Bnd I can drink water tl 
last." 

As he spoke T saw a n[iortified twist 
in his nose, and an abateinPBt f>f colour 
which 1 had never aoliced before. My 
eyes filled: but on perceiving my emo- 
tion, he said agjain, in his ciwnimmi- 
table way, 

** I see, Father Phedlimj that yoa are 
resolved our last njecting- shan't be a 
dkiy one, I>on't be so copious, man 
alive, now, at all events. Is this by 
way of treat, because you have heard 
that I can bear water? Come, come; you 
know I never liked it &oft, except when 
the whiskey and su^ar were convenient 
to it, I did not send for you here to 
^et pathetic, but to talk upon business." 

I could perceive, notwithstanding 
this effort, that his court lenance was 
troubled, and I according-ly assumed 
an appejiratice of firmness which was fo- 
reign to me. Knowing the value of the 
companion 1 was i\bout to lose, and 
tlikit my excellent friend, then gtap- 
pliiig^ with the last attack of a formi- 
dable dropsy, never felt so happy aa 
when, in the thirst of an honest heart, 
he sat with the decanter before him, 
surrniinded by bis choice companions. 

** There ia one thing-, ray dear Phed- 
lim,** he proceeded, that puzzles me ; 
and it is this — why a mati who never 
drank a nag^in of oqim pura in all his 
life shnuld come to die of a drops t^** 

I tell that the anomaly he men- 
tioned was striking: eiiouj^^h, and replied 
that it migrlit proceed in \m rase from 
some idiosyncrasy of constitutitm. 

" Ay, ayr »aid he ; "may be so: it's 
un idiosyncrasy that has moistened mu 
clay, any how; but ifou know that 1 
never had an idiosyncrasy for w at her, 
at iill evints : so that it is the more un- 
accoinilable. But I suppose it's not 
uun.iitiral I'lthrr that a man who it 



Having g-iven to mv late cousin, Fa- 
ther Blackthorn M*tVil, a very solemn 
pledge upon hi» deuth-bed ihut I woiibi 
write his antobiography at fidl length, 
I now, in accordance with his earnest 
wishes, undertake that melancholy task, 
feeling too sensible at the same time 
of my own iticapacity tti perform it in 
a manner wortliy of the subject. For 
this reason I trust lliut snch errnrs 
and iuipcrl'ections as the g-oodnatured 
reader may discover cither in my late 
frienirs bfe, or in my manner of relating' 
it, he will, from a feeling of kindly 
' §umpathjfy look upon with a lenient eye. 
Whatever hurii-hciirted critics may in- 
sinuate about the mlntm fheohgicum^ 
and the impkcable spirit attributed to 
priests of all creeds, I pay that the man 
who with his own hand forgavcj the sins 
and triiii3^reasions of so many, surely 
deserves an ample share of that 
virtue which he practised towards 
oi hers. This Is u\\ I demand, and 1 
trust it will be conceded to the siight 
aljerralions of one who.ee ^ond <ina- 
iities so far predominated over his fail- 
ings. 

Of my lastintervTOW with him I feel 
it necessary to say a few words, by way 
of justifying myself for the imptiriant 
underlaking- which I am about to cnm- 
mence. He hud written to me on the 
ni timing before his death, to request 
that 1 would call upon him forthwith ; 
mddinjf, vtiiIi that love of humour 
whirh, as in the ca^e of Cervantes, 
I death itself could not suppress — 
I *' If ymi do not iniike haste, it is 
very possible you may find me from 
home.* 

I myself, however, had heard that 
the hydrophobia, with which for the 
greater part of his brief hut fertile ca- 
reer he had been afflicted, suddenly 
' "ft him; and 1 consetfjuently knew that 

s last §:lass w as run. But Indeed he 
ipmself felt as conscious of this as I 
did; tor on seeing rne he exclaimed, 



i 



1837.] 



ihi\ BlacMmrn MFluih P>R^Inhvduetion, 



21 



I WW*- 



fond of thetirop should in ttiiro tjPcoTue 
dropsical. This, however, tantioL !>« 
helped now; I have other thirjgs to 
speak of. In the first pltice, I lay it 
upon you as the last injunction oi' a 
dying clargy to write my Orthobiogra- 
phy, and continue my life after I am 
aeiid« I have taken an active [Kirt, u§ 
you, Phcdlira, know, m Ibrwardiiig the 
interests of the only true church ; niid 
I do not, couseqiiently, wish to have 
my oieraory forgotten. Father M*Fbi! 
was never created, I should hope^ to be 
a nonentity* You will find the mate- 
lialfl for my life in the black garde tiu 
•f and I hare no donht but you will 

ike an efficient use of ihem. With 
TCBpeet to my property, do not l>e 
angry if I have forgotten to name you 
us one of my executois. I know your 
»eal for the church, and consequently 
had a reason for my want of mnuory. 
You will not quarrel with me for this 
&fter I depart. From similar logic I have 
declined to constitute you guardian to 
my poor nephew, who, indeed, will miss 
his uncle when I am g5ne. There are 
many things to console those whom I 
Imre behind me. Heresy is In the lust 
gup: the parsons may whistle the 
Ucpraufhinget over their tithes. Our 
party it predotninant ; Orang<!ism is m 
the dust, and we live under the benign 
guvernmeut of our warm friend the 
Earl of Molligrub, one of the most 
Viceregal governors that ever our un- 
happy country tee ft. These are my 
laat words, my dear Phedlim; and i 
hope you will faithfully' report them, 
to that they may rache hii* ctMucly cars. 
Let him obay Dan, as he has done, 
and allow us — Hie clargy of the people 
^to keep dictating to him, us Itcruio- 
fore; let him also keepneuihrtd on the 
Tory side, and support tis tirinly as at 
present: I say, let him do this, my dear 
Phedlim, and he will he a Ninth Bcati» 
tude to the Irish people — a ninth be- 
atitude. «orra tiling less — Gwl fiardon 
me for being profane, but sure, tf i am, 
iff in a sacrcil cause, at all eviiits^ 

He now seemed considerably ex- 
hausted, and was silent, rather from 
inabiltty to fpeak than disinclination. 
After a few minutes, however, he looked 
wittfuny towards a small decauter, aod, 
with a revival of animatinn for which I 
ti'fts hardlr prepared, said, 

" Phedlim, what's that in that atomy 
of a decanther T 

1 examined, and finding it w*as water, 
told him so. 

Hts eye drooped again, and he 



ttvist^d his nose with a slow and dole- 
ful niution towards one side of hia 
face, and his mouth towards the other, 
after which he groaned, but did not 
^peak for nearly a minute. 

" Ah," said he, at length, " I might 
have known by the size that it con- 
tained nothing else. That decanther, 
Phedlim, is a fresh importation ; it i» 
uane of miue,'* 

I now ventured to remind him of 
maf.ers that 1 considered to bo just 
then ioqiortaut to his condition ; among 
other things, I told bim that I waa 
ready to hiiar his confession, and give 
him absolution of his ^ins. 

It would indeed l>e impossible to 
describe tlie flash of humour which for 
a moment lit up bis features as he 
looked at me. 

*• Foa," said he, " a fifteen tumbler 
roan — t^ou absolve my sins! Ah, Phed- 
lim, my darling boy, dou t I know you 
too well for that ? No, uo : like many 
a zealous brother of the robes, Pm 
thinking less of the r'Uet of our church 
t!ian of her wrongs.** 

For some minutes afterwards he ap- 
peared slightly unsettled ; but it w as 
evident from such odd words as es- 
caped him, that his mind wiis fixed upon 
the prospects of ultimate ascendancy 
for our church, on which, in common 
with us all, his worthy heart hnd always 
been fixed. 

** Earl Mnlligrub !" he murmured — 
'* the Ninth Beatitude ! yes, ye? j they 
may whi;»lle the Ueprowhhtgtx over 
their tithe*?, any how: only let Mm be 
obadient.'* 

I regretted deeply to Btid his heart 
so much set upon the concerns of this 
transitory life, and once more made 
him an offer of my spiritual assistance. 
To this he made no reply, but turned 
hia eye upon me with a iecr so comical 
that it reminded me of the days, or 
rather of the nights, when he shone 
out in the fulness of hie owu peculiar 
bumotir. 

I saw, however, that bis physical 
powers were faai failing bim, for as he 
attempted to twist his nose and rnoutli 
in opposite directions, as was his bsibit 
when he said a good thing, the trans- 
positiim from their nalurtti places was 
only partially effected. He then moved 
his head, withotit chanj^'^ing a muscle of 
hia countcnunce, and intimated that he 
wished me to come near bim, which 1 
did ; and although bis voire was w eak, 
yet his words were distiTictly lutelli- 
gilile— 



22 



Autobiography of the 



[Jan. 



" God blefs the Earl ol' MulligrTub» 
Phedlimj he*a ihe Ninth Bcatitulie to 
lis. miy way. Gad bless tlie Earl of 
Mulligrub, Fhedlim ; let liim m\\y be 
obadieitt to Diiii, and all is n^\\U Do 
you pen my Oi thobiaiiTHpliy T 

Havii*^ given expression to these 
words, I perceived Qt once that my 
frieod was no more. 

Now* what rendered such remarkable 
sentiments still marc si^'-nificant was the 
fact that whilst he uttered them, and 
even after life had departed, the same 
comieal look of rich ridicule M'hich I 
have just described remained so clearly 
impressed od bis reattire«» that 1 felt 
at a losa to guess whether it wa? di- 
recled ag^auisl iny sjiiritual powers of 
absolution or aguiust some lurking' 
motive of satirical contempt which iie 
secretly entertained for the Earl of 
Mulligrubs Wheiher, after all, he con- 
sidered him more as the vain and weak- 
minded lool of our party, than a sttites^ 
iifau capable of u ml erst an ding- and re- 
cognizing 2sjmi the means we use and 
the ultimate purpose for which we use 
tbeiii. But, in truth, I am not cer- 
tain whether the last gleam of the 
departing humorist's satire was not 
levelled at us both — thiit is to s^y^ at 
my inward and invisible Grace and 
Lord MulUgrub's Statesmiin&hip. In- 
deed I have little doubt of this, for 
on approaching him somewhat more 
closely, I observed that he hud, whilst 
littering the words just recorded, at- 
tempted an unsuccessful wink, as was 
evident by a slight droop in his right 
eyelid, which, taken in connexion with 
the Teat of bis countenance, aud his 
obvious meaning, seemed goodhumour- 
edly to say — 

*' Wc may publicly praise either a 
tool or a faol when hU knavery or folly 



is necessary to onr designs; but let him 
become obstinate or intra ctablei and 
then be will soon ascertain the c^titua- 
tion in which we secretly hold him. 
Fiuise iiA^jne atf uauwum from i\\v lips* 
is only iin other name for cunttfmpl at 
heart-** 

And indeed no dying man ever 
winked forth a truer joke ttian Uigt 
which 1 have just translated, as Lord 
Mullignih ill his d^y might Im ve learned 
from the fate of his two predccessorf 
the moment they became nnmaiiag*^ 
able and dared to think lor themselves. 

Such was littf Ititt interview with 
Father Blackthorn M'Elail; and sucib 
also was hhi with I he world. No man 
ever stood forth yis a better reprefiefi> 
tative of Iirisb hiunour, or had a juster 
claim to be considered a Alercutio in 
canonicals than he. Like many others, 
the ruling passion clung to birneven in 
death; and tlwt vein of goodbumoured 
satire which ran through his couveraa- 
tion left its impreas (*n his countenance 
when his toufjue could uo longt r *ihape 
it into language. 

With respect to myself, I felt it ne- 
cessary to give a brief sketch of his last 
moments, in order I o show the reader 
that 1 undertake his autobiography — 
or, as lie called it, his Orthobiography 
— not from any inclination on my part 
to cuter upon the execution of a task 
evidently difficult, but merely firop* a 
plans wish to comply with his last re- 
ipiest so solemnly urged* and to redeem 
the pledge winch I then gave him. 
Having thus premised so much, by 
way of an introduction, I have the 
honour to subscribe myself, gentle 
reader, your obedient humble servant^ 

I'llEIiLlM M*FL"N, 



CBArCEK U 



The subject of our present memoir, 
the late Father Blackthorn M' Flail, 
waa related both by bis puternal and 
maternal side to some of the most 
remarkable familiea in Irelaufi Uis 
mother being sister to my lather, was 
consequently a M*Fun, and it was well 
known that she possessed the spirit 
and janiua of our family to ilie back- 
bone. About two centuries ago a 
branch of our relations, bearinu^ the 
family name, made a hasty trip to 
Scotland, tor a rason that they had, 



4 



but on no other account in life, where 
they settled find apostatized almost in 
one and the same breath. They im- 
mediately chauj^ed their names to 
M*Phnu. thus laving out the only or- 
thographical distinction that (iroperly 
intimated the character of the family. 
Nut that they all did so, as is evident 
from the fact, that one Robert Btirns, 
a Scotch ballad-maker, met a faymale 
descen<lant of ours at a holy fair in 
Dumfriesshire, who gave her name 
correctly enough, with the exception of 



1S370 



Seu. Btacfahotm M'Flaii, P.P^—Chap. L 



the Mqc^ which I am rather tncHHetl 
to thiiik the rhypirng plough man left 
out himscli*, merely euphom graiiut as 
we used lo say at seliCKil when scan- 
lung the works of Pro&oditis. What- 
ever might have heen tlie change 
frora the Padereen Pariha to the 
• Westminster Confession — anil faith, a 
bard crust to chew is that l^st — I feel 
tatisfied that ar»mc branch of our 
fcmily retained* in spite of the severe 
spirit of Scotch morality, a fair portion 
<w the potato. A holy fair in Seot- 
Ifmd and ati Irish Statioa at home ure 
concatenated by a f>reUy cortsidcrable 
resemblance ; and of course the fnrnier 
i« the very place in the North where 
the ileBCCfidanfs of our Irish M'Fuits 
would certainly Ijc present, 

Theeollateral branches of our fttmilies 
are the M*Kuds. the M'Sculf», and the 
M*Flunimery^» who were all united 
either bv blood, raarriag^e, or what the 
Irish call vieaveeiuhip — that \^, a kind 
of connection not immediately either 
the one or the oth^r but founded on 
an approximate identity of feeling, that 
fyrompts a person to lean lowanb ilic 
inntrTmomal relatives of such families 
a9 those who arc bis connexions by 
Wood may happen to be married 
into. 

Boithoon M'FIail, the father of 
young' Blackthorn, was the Bon of ould 
ktppeen M* Flail, nephew to the cele- 
brated Shilleby M* Flail, said to have 
been the founder of a secret society in 
Ireland, called, in the first iustanee, the 
Ballvboulteen Thresh er3» but allei^ 
wattU known simply by the name of 
the Threshecs. The M* Flails were a 
Jo^cai and disputatious faction ; and 
though they praetised their logic onty 
with the right hand, always exceptiTig 
yonnz Blackthorn's uncle, KiUhonuc 
M*Fr^il, who was left-baud«*d , yet tVw 
either of individuals or faeriou:*, hud 
any relish to argue with tliem at all, in 
eoniequence of llieir appeurmg too 
directly to the sale of intellect. 

Boathoon M^Klkiifs marriage with 
' aunt, Molshy M*Fun» was too good 
btng to be passed over in stlence by 
^ nnwortHiv \n\vn\\\AifT of their reve- 
i%«i wst9 cele- 

br.r fgh beauty. 

of a powerful fnnne* and comely mas- 
caline features, that hot Bosthoon's taste 
tu a hair. 

Of c^urte the worthy man had seen 
my aunt Molshy hefore-hand» or he 
could not iMve entertained such a 
i/jtic attach mrnt towards her. Of 
latiachuient, however, she was u*- 



terly i^n^jrantj inasraueh m Bosihoon 
had never opened his Wfs to her in his 
life upon thut or any other subject. 
Ni^r was this stwprising; for, to tell the 
truth, there was more than a cock's- 
strhle of difference iu their respective 
tit nations. Bosthoon, for instance, had 
scarcely a second shirt to his back, 
whilst my aiint Molshy had a hand- 
some fortune of two huu^fred pounds* 
three beds, four cows, anil a lucky cmd^ 
in which every female of her blood, in 
a direct line, for (he Itrsf three genera- 
tions» Imd been married, B^Mhomi, 
however, at once rf solved, that what he 
wanted iu point of weulth, ffhould lie 
mudf up in policy. He vtas a tali, 
powerful, indolent fe!l(>w— in faet, an 
adtnirable exemplifkation of the m 
inei'tiiTt xvith a lair coniplexioti, :tnd 
white brows, sheepish lo his rft^iii tiers, 
and without a word tf» throw at a diig, 
except when a purpose wna tn be 
gEtined, and thm let Bosihoon alone. 
Bosthoon, however, havin^^ i^^^i hk eye 
on my aunt Molshv, turned over in his 
mind the best mtthod of securing h<T 
to himself The result t>f his medita- 
tions no <me knew (for Ro^thoon always 
was his own confid^im,) until the ninth 
morning after he had begmi to rnedi^ 
tate, when he waited about eight of the 
clock, A. M. cm the pi»rish priest — not 
his confessor — for the curate, as being 
a more fogitivc personage, und less a 
fixture in ihe pansb than the other, is 
usually honoured with the penitence of 
sncii as are of worthy Boethoon's 
kidney. 

Accorth'ngly, abcmt the hour afore- 
said, a tiraid^ — no, noi timid neither, for 
the rap was a sturdy one — but a strong, 
ungainly, knavish, and sinister kind of 
a knock, came to Father M'Flewsthcrs 
dtMjf, which was immediately opened 
by the housekeeper. A tidJ, straggle- 
boned customer stood before her, 
dressed in a long- bodied, skirtless frize 
jackef, with a packet under each arm. 
fiosthoon, uhosc hiinifs fr-id been stuck 
in ihe pockets, so as lo run #hcm out 
to collision on the front of his body, 
now took one hand out, and scratching' 
his fore top under his hat, asked — 

" I^ Father M'Flewsiher at homer 
— at the same time stretching otit a 
hu^re foot, cuscd in as huge a brog/ie, 
OR which he bent his eye with an awk- 
ward stare, as if he was atVaid to look 
the housekeeper in the face, or as if 
the gigantic dimensions of the foot had 
never struck him before. 

*• He M at home" said the house- 
keeper. 



24 



Aalobingf'apht/ uf the 



[Jail, 



•* U hi8 reverence up, ma am T again 
enquired Bosthoon, 

" i believe lie is," replied the house- 
keeper : ** Is any thing' wroug, dear?" 

" Be porrd there's too much wrong/ 
said BusthooD. '* Would jou be pluzed 
ma^itm to tell liH reverence Lhat I want 
very badly to spAke a word wid him.'* 

He was accordingly brought into the 
kitchen ; and in uhout a quarter of an 
hour was told by the housekeeper that 
his revefenee had risen, and was waiting 
to see hira in the parlour. 

** What's your name T said Father 
M'FlcwBther, as he eniered. 

" Bfisthotiii M* Flail, sir ; a son of 
ould Kippeen's — \^ id the help o' God, 
and Bohniissiou to your reverencp." 

** And what do you want with me ?" 
said the priest ; — " but, in the first 
place, take a ehair, and duo't stand 
twistingr your long body and short 
jacket, ag if your shirt was a bhster^ — 
looking into the Hoor, too, as ilyou had 
second sight — and fxcept you can com- 
matid at change of hat, you ti light as 
well not crash lhat excuse into atoms, 
its youVe doing," 

A blank and grotesque suiile settled 
upon the huge white eye*brows of Bos- 
thoon. 

*' What do you want with rae ?" again 
enquired the priest. 

" VVhy, plaseyour Feverence, it isn't 
my fau't, any how. Vm willin* up to 
this minute to rightify her — but, harriu* 
she saves her own carrectheri and mar- 
ries inCt I wont stay in the coonthry — 
so. as there's no hope of that, 1 want a 
ix*istiuionial from your reverettce to 
America." 

■* What the dickens are you after, 
BosthiKin T* 

•• Mulshy M*Ftm, sir — God pardon 
mer 

** Bosthoon, my good boy, explain 
yourself ?** 

" Be gorra, it*s past that* yonr reve- 
rence. But she wont he brought an 
hy common sinse, good or bad, an* I 
willin' to marry her, au' to do for her ; 
how-aml-ivcr, if she doesn't choose to 
succum', it can*t be helped. I was ready 
to uiiik*" un iiouest womati of her — an' 
the knows that — and if your reverence 
would put into the twistimonial, that 
Vm a welUbehaved boy, of good morals, 
and an honest fathefia son, it would 
sarve tne very much beyaut. Tiiey 
tay, sir, there's great feed in* all out 
there — six male^ a day, 1 hear, an* a 
dollard wages — an' that the sarv mts an* 
rnanhers blacks an' whites* all sit at 
the same tcrahagr 



"The iact is» you iheep^faced scoun- 
drel •* 

" Tim innoeent-ior^'m t your reve- 
rence, I am — no doubt — but, upon my 
pmlereeTiSt not more so to the eye than 
/ am widin here* — placing hia hi ™ 
paw upon his stomach. ^ 

**' Silence, Bosthoon, and hear roe,— 
The fact is, thiit you hi*ve destroyed 
the girl, and ruined hrr reputation ; and 
after having dr^ne this, yuu now want 
to abscond, »ud go to America/* 

Bosthoon senitehed btfhind his ear, 
as if his conscience winced to the s^ty 
core ot this home charge from tlie 
priest. He looked abashed at his reve* 
rence for a moment, then at the win- 
dow, then at the grate, and finally into 
the bottom of liis own hat, as if he 
expected to find there some relief from 
the deep And damning embarrassment 
into which he made the priest believe 
thut his reveTence*8 observation had 
thrown him. 

The reader, in the mean time« is lo 
bear in mind, that Bo«thoon had never 
yet opened his lips to my aunt Molshy ; 
and tuat, of course, the whole material 
of the dialogue between him ami the 
priest was as pure fiction, on his part, 
as ever proceeded from the imagination 
of man. 

** Yes, you villainous h^Gorgon — 
after having destroyed the girl — a da- 
cent girl, too — I know the M*Fun& 
well — ^l am her confessor, you repro- 
bate, and acquainted with tiie whole of 
it ; — after having destrf*yed her, you 
want to get a character from me, and 
then to run otf to America, and aban* 
don her " 

^* Dm' an afrin fwei\ I don*t, if she 
will marry me — but if she stands out 
this way ^" 

"No wonder for her to stand out, 
you black guard, after what has hap- 
pened. But why should she refuse to 
marry you noiv T^ 

" Why, be gorni, sir, she stands up 
for a single life, God pardon her.** 

** Well— how is that r 

" She says, your reverence, that she 
will never n>arry me or any one else — 
that she*ll live single, and a vargin, all 
her hfe to come — then, agin, even if I 
do go to America, 1 am sure my father, 
for ray sake, would provide for anj 
charge I might lave behind me. 1 know 
he likes grandchildre." 

'* But I will take very good care," 
said the worthy priest, "that you shall 
not leave the country till you are made 
man and wife ; and not even theo, un- 
less «Ar goes with you/' 



isaj.] 



Rev. Blackthorn M'Fiail, P.P.^Chap.L 



25 



•• And I am wiUin' to do iC replie^l 
BoeUioon ; ** but why should she hould 
out aguinst the marria;^e hensdi'? I 
tould bcr I'd bring her by force to you, 
and she said, if 1 did, she'd deny every 
word of what I*ve now s^id. So, what 
am I to do ?" 

•* Never mind wimt she says,'* said 
the credulous priest ; " haul her down 
here, and Til soon jjiveyotia legitimate 
authunty ovei her*"' 

Bosthoou, however, who litid a pro* 
per regard for his own neck, felt not 
the slightest inclinatiun to follow the 
prit^st's advice, ** No — no," he replied, 
** if she wont do it wiUiidy, the dlvjl a 
one o* ine will foree her. Site may 
ijike her way, an' /7i take mne. As to 
the twistiuiunialt if your revereiiee 
wont give it, why, be gurra, 1 must 
only do without iL In the maoe time, 
I hope that your reverence, for niy 
take, as Tin about lavio' the eounthry, 
wont be aayio' any thing regardin' what 
paaficd betune m — wishia' your reve- 
rence a good nyominT 

Boslhoon^$ puiut w us gained ; for ere 
three days had elapsed the woithy 
priest, in the height of his indignation 
ag-dinst his baseness and treachery, hud 
»ent the history of my uunt Moishy^s 
fabricated weukness to the uttertnoat 
ends of that and the adjoining parishes. 
In fact, Boiithoon had made Father 
M'Flcwsther hirrjeielf the principal cri- 
minal in the scandal ; arid the upshot 
was, that the M'Fune finding uunt 
MoUhy*s character blo^ n upoo^ and by 
such a competent authority as the priest 
of t)ie parish, deemed it better, us there 
was no calling in the scandal to murry 
her to Bostboon at once ; and u e need 
scarcely add, that Father M'Flewsther's 
advice strongly conlributed to fix them 
in this rcsolutiim. 

Such was the thnplicHt/ of Bosthoon 
M* Flail — and Father Blackthorn was 
hii son. 

It is unnecessary to give a detail of 
their wedding, which, indeed, presented 
the usual traits to be founa at such 
festivities in Ireland — that is to say, a 
pleaiant alternation of mirth and ptig- 
Dacitv, It coulfl not indeed pass with- 
out tnis necessary admixture of enjoy* 
mcnt. The M' Flails from a spirit of 
L^fiimily pride, and a determination to 
lA^pri'Hi' rve the consistency of their cha- 
racter, could not allow the M'Funs to 
have it all their own way. Nor could 
the M'Funs, on the contrary, allow the 
M' Flails to turn such a scene of convi* 
\tal hilarity iuto a continuous battle. 



The opposition, therefore, between the 
contending principles of the two par- 
ties, produced those agreeable bghts 
and shudows — in other word?, that fun 
and lighting', which m eniineritly dis- 
tinguish the Irish climute and the Irish 
heart from all others witli which 1 hap- 
pen to be acquainted, or of which I 
have ever read. 

In other countries, it is true, and I 
ani forced to atlmit it, that Bosthoon's 
most signal exploit, at his own wedding 
would have been looked on as a kind of 
small sacrilege, Bosthoon, however, 
who was not a theologian, and no great 
shakes of a moraliisi, felt no remorse in 
perpetrating the exploit 1 have alluded 
to. In plain truth, then, as it was 
family agiunst family— ihe M' Flails 
against the M'Funs, backed by the 
M' Flummeries on one side, and the 
M*Scut9 on the other — honest Bos- 
thoon, whose sympathy witlj his new 
connexion was loo fresh to be practi- 
cal, entertained no scruple at all in 
giving to his own father-in-law the 
** era me" of a sound drubbing.^ — 
This, however, though looked upon by 
his relations as heroism of no ordi- 
nary character, was inferior to that 
whicli Molsby, his bride, acting under 
an indignant sense of filia] duty» 
achieved for herself. I do not wish to 
be unpleasantly particular; it is enough 
to say that Bosthoon went to his 
nuptial couch that night with a broken 
head, and that the hand by which it 
was broken, was the same that had in 
the early part of the day, pliglited 
to him its troth, when its fair owner 
promised him love, honour, and 
ohcdkncc. Some mark?, I admit, she 
did receive in thus signalizing herself, 
but then Bosthoon expressed deep con- 
trition in the course qT that night for 
having inflicted ihtm, and Molshy as- 
sured him she was perfectly satisHed. 

From this forward, they lived har- 
moniously enough together. The 
gambolings of Bosthoon during the 
honey-moon, though uncouth, were 
not disagreeable to hi^ strapping bride. 
Taking them, therefore, each as ihe 
representative of their class, it is 
eno*igh to say that they were very well 
paired, and that ^he a$ a M'Fun was 
quite a match for him as a M'Flaii 

In this way things went on well 
enough on both sides, for about two 
months, when one evening as Bosthoon 
and his wife sat togelhcr enjopng a 
comfortable tete-a-tete, he noticed a 
peculiM euibarraesmcnt of manner in 



26 



AiUohiography of the 



[Jutn. 



I 



his amiable partner for which he could 
not account. He saw very well that 
the bashfui creature was labouring 
under some erimordinary secret which 
»be fell a bluahiiig rthictance to dis- 
close. BoftthooQ, of cuurpe, was sorely 
puzzled US to what the nature of her 
commii nidation could bei Tor ns he had 
litile kiiuwled^e of the sei, or of their 
teasing agreeahle motjds and whims. 
ao waa he sig-nally deficient in thitt 
ngacity which so often enaMes wit tn 
anticipate c^tpfrienre. Thouitfh de- 
ficient iu peuctraiion, however, lie was 
DO fool, and consequently took a most 
excellent method of making- her aban- 
don that coijuettirth fondness which 
she seemetl di3post*d to work up into 
ttothin^ less thdn a mystery. Tliis im- 
perturbable inditi'erence on \m part 
Bucceeded, Moleh y* afler patting^ bim 
on th«^ cheek, and fiUyf'dly shaking- a 
pair of CLtrs (his, iif course,} neariy 
^wA to BottomX at length ^aid, 

" Bo5tboon» darlio." 

" Wdl, Molsh/ 

Mohh hunjf down her head, first 
giving him a timid, pleitt^aut^ iii^niBcant, 
roguish gifvnce from ibc tail t>f her eye, 
after which she phiced the [lalrn of her 
light hand on that t>f her \t% and 
began to iuspect the joints of her 
fingers, passinsr hrr left thumb over the 
back of the right band, which was up- 
permost, and seeming- lo examine thetn 
joint by joint. 

♦* What wor you goin to say, my 
thracle T 

** Oh, had scran to yu>u, Bosthoon \ 
yon'rthe dickeim!" 

*• How, darlin ?" 

** (io if» the sarra, the aevei a one o' 
me will tell ynu.*" 

" Well, Jewell, «ure 1 can't help 
that?" 

** Oh, but Bosthoon — sure— no ; bad 
cess to the wcir<i. Still, I'll take one 
my self, so I will — (a huge smack in- 
dicted <>ji Bosthoon,) 

" Bedad/' said Bosthoon, licking his 
lips, '* thjitV what 1 cnU doin it honest. 
Faix, Molsh, you laid your KhouldrT to 
it there. Upon my purty, that wrti a 
sappy one/' 

** But, Bosthoon. jewel and darlin, 
you doft'l know what 1 hiive to tell 
you." 

** No, in Irolh, Molahy, but I hope 
ril hear it soon.** 

'* Go way wid you," she replied in a 
pet, ** you have no curosity ; the 
never a' kiss 111 give you this month 
to come/' 



" Faith* I suipecteti as mtreh by 
reason of that last one» It would corer 
three weeks and nine days any how ; 
but why have I no curosity, goslin T 

** Bekase, you hav*n't/* 

** Well* sure Vm the less like a wo- 
man, Moleh*" 

Here his indi0erence to her secret 
influced Mol&hy to show strong symp- 
toms of getting pathetic, which u 
always the deniier retort of a woman. 

** Vou may thrate me as bad as yoti 
plase, Bostlioon, but I'm not in a state 
to be" — 

Here her tears came with great 
fluency, and Bosthoon's indolence was 
actually stirred mto something like in- 
terest in consequence of her emotion. 

♦* But darlin," he replied, " tell me — 
tell your own Bosthoon, at waost what 
is wrorrg ?"* 

** Wrong*," said Molshy. drying her 
eyes, and with something of a proud 
but indignant feeling, ** wrong, there'* 
nothing wrong ;** then all at ooce» 
gliditig into caresses and endearments, 
she added tenderly, 

^ No, darlin, jewel — no, my own 
Bosthoon, there's nothing wrong wid 
me — no, jewel, hut the conthrakry!* 

Her voice, while uttering these 
words* sank by degrees into a tone of 
most affectionate and significant con- 
fidence. 

" Faith/' said the obtuse husband, 
** Tm as proud as a pay cock that there's 
nothing wrong wid you* Why you 
frightened the life out o'me, I thought 
you had ctytch this complaint that*s 
goin/" 

Mobhy, seeing that all the ustial 
inueiidofs iu such cases were absolutely 
lost npon bim, bent her face, and placing 
her lips to his car, saidi 

"' Whisper, jewel." 

She must have disclosed somethii _ 
of singular importance, for Bosthoon 
on bearing it, raised his head, and fas- 
tening- his grry eyes upon her with a 
grin of delight, that raised his white 
heavy brows halfway up his forehead, 
and distending his mouth chuckle after 
chuckle, until it almost reached those 
ears the reader wots of, exclaim ml, 

" Tnndhcr and whiskey, do you tell 
me so ?" 

" Yes, T do, Bosthoon, Yes. I do. 
darlin, jewel, and now don't you 
like me betther than ever ? Don*t 
you now ? Tell me, Bosthoon, 
darlin ?" 

There was no verbal reply given to 
this fjuery, bttt a powerful grappltni^ 









18370 



Rev, Blaakihor^n M'Flaih P.P.^amp. L 



27 



tuatcK imraeiliuCely took pkcci wliicli 
from the loudness and tVeqneut^v of the 
smacks, bore a. strong resemblance to 
what is cuHeii a rumiiug fim in u regi> 
ment of ca%^alry. 

We cannot dwell Inii^ ujmn this 
scene, far the fact is. that the billings, 
tnd coiitg9, and TutbiiingF, and 
niir»ing'S| and u Idsperhi^'^s, and squei.'^ 
iilgs, and pre^^iurtig, witli tlio other 
Udoseosi'^'al endearnienta thut make 
tJie honey-moon look Hke a be- 
tlubberetl cak^ f»f liquorice in die 
butids of two over-grown cliddrt'U, 
nmy all do very well in the proper 
place, but to a spectator they arc in th(^ 
loeaxi time anything but delicate or 
a^ecable. 

8iiU we cannot help assuring our 
renbders tlt^t when this billing iniitch 
between Bositliunn and Molshy was 
over,, he once again exp-tiiided bis ca- 
vernous iiinutb into a gap ibut resem- 
bled ihe clef^ of an cai thquake, and 
rdjaing his huge brows* one after ano- 
ther like the luuibering purtculli^ of a 
drawbridge, at ihe same time exposing 
the whites of his eyes, he gazed upou 
her with ati ugle which we can com- 

{>arc to Dotbiug except thediscoiisulale 
ook of a dying calf. 

Molshy in return gave him a diffi- 
dent but playful pat on the fiice, which 
were it not fnr a further dis^closure that 
she had to make, would have led to a 
repetiiiou of tlie scene we have de- 
clined to describe ub being rather too 
sweet for mere lookers>on. 

*• Bo^thoon» behave, dear — behave 
iiow« Sure 1 have more to tell you,^' 
" What ! more good news of the same 
kind ; begad you're worth goo Id/' 

'* No, jeweh its cuusarnin' my health 
for the last two or three i\ny^. Ynu 
know, yourself, 1 never cartrd much 
abtiut what Vxn spakiu' of, ultliough I 
could take an odd i»up now and thin 
whiii I goi it/" 
" A Slip o' what, my tbracle ?*' 
•• Arm, Bofithoon, don^t you see what 
I mane i*** 
" Failh, I don't think I do, but let us 
n tir^t, and then I may get a 
liise ol it," 
L* 1 iccl quare for u sup r/ w hti«key/' 
X*m want a sup of whiskey. W'ell 
I you muMgt't it ril lb rale you to 

*re of a na^^fgin, or half a pint iu the 

BUirket on next Sutunlay. vVont that 
be something 'f Buds ! woman, couIdn^t 
you leli me at waust that you wanted 
It?* 

U it me want it, Bosthoon, jewel ! 



Oh, the florra sup for my part ever Td 
care ibout it ; sure it s not thut at all, 
dear" 

" Cpoii my purty, thin, it looks 
divilii^h like it, thracleen. if \i*a not 
tbtit, then wbut is it, couxy ?" 

" The never a one of hiui understands 
me a bit, so he doesn'L Sure it's not 
mc thai wishes for it, 'Buithona." 

** By my soid, an it's nut me thm, 
M^jlsh ; and who the put k is it, for 
there 8 but tlie two <>f uh Y'* 

M<diby's euuiempt whs heginniTig to 
rise at Bosthoon 's stupidity and «law- 
ness of apprehension, but checking 
this, she proceeded in a wheedling and 
conHdenlial tune, 

" Sure it wtmldn'l be right to refuse 
it to me fiotVf lto>tlioon — nuw man 
alive, I mightn't, or si)melio*iy elae 
mightn't be the bcHf r of not getting it ; 
ouly two of us ! — the 8(»rrow one but 
you're brig ill/* 

Bosthoon expanded his grey* eyes, 
and first looked at Molshy with a sadly 
puzzled couiiteimuce, atler which he 
casta be \\ibiered glance slowly aboiiLlhe 
ro<»m, and again hxed bis eyes on Molsh 
without appearing one whit the ^user* 
Molsh felt that she was reduced to the 
alternative as before of I becoming her 
own inlerfireter ; so heiidiug her face, 
again, and putting her lips to his ear, 
she suid, 

*' Bosthoon, whisper jewel/* 

And in a few words she conveyed 
the cominuiiication and received an 
answer dmilar to the last. 

"Tondherand whiskey, Mobh, my 
thrarle, do >'*" It'll «^ie so,** 

** Ves I tin, It lid 1 fetl very qua re 
for want of a suj*.'* 

Now, the reader ignorant of physi- 
ology may not see the direct bearing 
which the circuuistaiiera 1 am now de- 
tailing are caleuldtcd to have on the 
life and character of hi in whu is the 
subject of my autobiography. This, 
however, will be better explained by 
what 1 am about to narrate. 

Bosthoon no sooner understood the 
nature of the longing desire expressed 
by Molshy for the sup of vi his key, 
than he put a pint bottle in his pocket 
and went off to Peter Byrne's public 
house, at the cross-roflds, for the pur- 
pose of procuring the desired beveingis 
for her. 

The truth is, howevcr,tbai one cause 
of his alacrity tu couq*ly with the 
wishes of his wife proceeded from the 
simple fact that from the moment she 
meuiioned the whiskew he felt his own 



28 



Auiohiogi'aphtf of the 



longing for it nearly as powerful as 
her'a. f^Bosthoori w^ks never the fellow 
to tliiich from bis glass, and indeed 
there was scarcely a man in his natiTc 
country who p osseins eti a head more 
impervious to its influciice than hid. — 
On reaching^ the cros3*(aada, like a 
dutiful hijsi*and, he lost no time io get- 
ting hi!) bottle tilled with the beist 
whiskey the house allbrded, with wliith 
he would have iiu mediately returned 
Jjomc» were it not for the very natural 
circumstance of bis meeting a few of 
iiisneii^hbours who wereiroing' to have 
something" to drink. Bostboon passed 
to an inTier room, and without much 
reluctance sat dE>wn aionsr with them, 
placing^ bis bottle of whiskey un the 
ground by the side of his chair. Glass 
followed glass for an hour or two, 
during which time they «aiig wnd 
chatted witli great cheerfulness and 
good humour. Indeed lor the last 
twenty -five or thirty minutes, their 
mirth was excessive, so ranch so that in 
Bostboon*a opinion there was a potnid 
of laughter to every ounce of joke. — 
Tbey drank his own health with great 
glee, then MoUhy's and young^ Bos- 
thoon'f, Bnd accompanied each toast 
with {>eals of mirth that made the 
house ring. At length he remembered 
the state of earnest expectation in 
which he had left the wife, and al\er 
bidding them a hearty good tnght^ he 
put his bottle in his pocket, and re- 
turned home, somewhat cresifalleuj we 
Edmit, in consequence of having de- 
layed so long upon so important u raei- 
sage. 

** Ojeh, Bosihoon^ darlin,'' aaid the 
wife, *• but I thought you'd never come, 
an me the way l*m in ! 

** Why I met with a few friend?, and 
► could neither by book or crook g^^t 
away from them. But never mind, 
Mobhi here's a [lint of stulf that *ud 
take a tear off a pig, my tbracle* Get 
me a glass*" 

He immediately filled her a glafts, 
which she no sooner tasted, tbau with 
B fttrong shudder of aversion she laid 
it down, eiiclaiming — 

*' By the blessed saints, Bosthoon 
man alive, it's pure w at her/ 

** Watber my thmclr," replied the 
astonished husband, "did'nt I taste the 
wliiskey out u the pint, at'orc it wint 
into tlie bottle/ 

He then filled a glass for himself, and 
found that Molshy wa* certainly righl, 
nor unless she herself had Been through 
the trick, which his boon coiDpanions 



played upon him by excharsgiiig hij 
whiskey for water, would he, by any 
means, have discovered it* 

" Ob, Bostboon, darlin," said the 
wife. ** I feel very poorly." 

" Don't be poorly, Tiuckey, 111 get 
you another, and bate the w'ortii of a 
gallon upon the first o* the skamers I 
meet" 

'* It's too late, jewel — it*s too late 
now ; the b arrays done, Bosthoon, dar- 
lin J the harm's done."* 

" Why, I won't be long out j sure 
rU be here wid it in no time. And if 
1 meet' — - 

" No, no, dear — you won't go out 
any more to-night," she replied, a|)- 
prehensive of hi* getting into a quarrel, 
a propensity at which, notwithstanding 
his ehiggisbuess. be was rather active ; 
" no, no, darliu\ all the harm is done ; 
it's gone atf o' mo ; so that even if I hiid 
it, it would be no use " 

Mrs, M* Flail, in truth, had stated 
the tact ; the hurm had been done in 
consequence of Bosihoon's having 
bungled the performance of so simple 
a (uatter as carry iug borne a pint of 
whiiikey to bis longing and loving 
wife. 

Thus, gentle reader, have I ae- 
coumed on natural j>rinciples for that 
indomitable h^drop/wbia which their 
6r;it>born son was alUicted with, as well 
as for that facetious propensity to good 
liijuor. which formed so agreeable a 
quality in bis character. 

It has been gcneralU observed, and 
experience confirms the observation, 
that genius, talent, and all the more 
striking points of character are in- 
herited from the mother To this, 
however^ there have undoubtedly been 
many outstanding exceptions. As for 
Father M* Flail, he bad ttie singular 
good fortune to verify not oidy the 

fenerai rule but the exception also, 
t was remarked of bis mother, that 
from the occurrence of tin: incident we 
have just mcotioued, uutd the time 
of her death she never could relish 
water, except, as the quack said, 
" when more or less diluted with 
whiskey," From her this naturally de- 
scended to iver son, as did that readi- 
ness to use the cudgel for which his 
whole fdraily by the father i nde were 
noted. 

Since their marriage, Bosthoou':f af- 
fection for Mol-«liy grew very fdst. It 
was indeed im|m'»sible to Hnd a couple 
happier in eacti other. Quarrels they 
htid few or nunc, for Bostboon was 



i 



I 



I 



I 



isaz] 



i?€v. BlacMwm M' Flail, P.P.^Chapier L 



29 



m 



heavy in his inte1le<:t and eaay in hia 
temper, except when powerfully pro- 
voked, or when Q point was to be 
gained. Molshy was also of a placid 
diBposition, unless upon rare occasions, 
ana both, as I have said befoie, were 
adrnirably adapted to each other. In 
this way they lived a pattern of conju- 
gal attachment to their neighbours, 
whilst in fAirs and markets they were 
equally conspicuous for a Bocial spiriL 
No two, standing In the same relation 
towards each other, ever took their 
naggin or half pint with greater com* 
fort, or set the world n*ore decidedly 
at defiance after they had taken it. 

The period for Molsliy's confinement 
however, was now drawing near, and 
Host boon was literally on the tiptoe of 
expectalinn. His manner and dispo- 
sition were now cojisiderably changed. 
Instead of crooning over the old lachry- 
mose airs which he was accustomed 
to dole out with suth a dismitl drawl, 
be confined hhnself altogether to brisk 
and lively tunes, such aa *^ Drops of 
Brandy,"**' The Black Joke" ^^ Deed 
an* you Sha^nt " ** Harvest Hoiue," and 
others that were of a cheerful and ap- 
propriate character ; for Bosthoou, in 
something of a prophetic spirit and a 
grateful heart, considered it as a time 
verv proper for rejoicing. 

Such was their condition and pros- 
pects, when one morning Molshy rose 
up and and after breakfast, addressing 
her husband with rather a thoughtfub 
if not a disturbed brow, said — 

" Boat boon, dear." 

" Well, Molsh, my Tiuckey ?" 

•* Tm not asy in my mind this 

>miri\ the Lord be praised !'' 

" Why, Molsh T 

•* Why, in regard of a dhrame 1 had 
last night — the Lord guard me an' 
what Vm carry in\ 

**Amin, 1 pray Jasus this day, re- 
sponded Bostnoon,^* luruing his grey 
eyes upon her with the stare of a man 
who had seen a ghost. '* What was 
the dhrame. Mot sheen ? Let us hear 
il any how." 

« Whv — och ihroth. I donna what to 
ntuke ot it ; it was a qua re one — the 
nerra one but I'm ashamed, so I am. 

•* Is it wid me — wid your own Bos- 
thoori. you'd be ashamed?*' 

•* Why, it** so a II a re ; but sure any 
how, it's oniy a dhrame. an' they say 
that dhrames go by coathraries." 

" Well, now for it." 

*♦ Why — but Bosthoon, you mus'nt 
Uugh ; the sorra one if you do, hut Til 
»typ short, and won't tell it." 



*' Out wid Jt — out wid it." 

" Why, ha, ha, ha^ — tbrotb I can't 
help laughin' myself. I dhramed thin 
that I was brou;^ht to bed of a black- 
thorn staff, wid a priest*s surplus on 
the one end of it, an* the sorra purtier 
blackthorn ever my eyes beheld." 

NoM", whenever Boathoon was sorely 
puzzled, bis countenance assumed an 
expression of most significant vacancy* 
On this occasion the earnest stare 
remained, but all the other features of 
his face became lapstjd or entangled 
into each other, in a manner so ludi- 
crously grave and perplexed, that no- 
thing but great command of muscle 
cuuld prevent a stranger on looking at 
I lie in from indulging in excessive mirth. 

** Oyeh Molsh ! brought to bed of 
a Blackthorn !" 

" Ordy in my dhrame, sure,*' 

** Derryduges I^ — be the shamrock, 
there^s something in that, Molsh ! How 
will we get the sinse out of H T 

" Fm not out o* the notion of goin' 
to th e n r iest yi bout i t. Fatlicr M* Fl e ws- 
ther, they say, knows everything/* 

** He that knows every thing, may 
know a thing or two too much, Molsh j 
besides, he*d only call you a fool, for 
runnin' to tbrouble him about a Black- 
thorn you never saw only in a dhrame." 

'^ But what's to be done ?'* said the 
wife. " I'm not at all aisy in my mind 
since I di'i'mi it— nor wont, till I hear 
the mania* of it." 

Dcspentely was the husband per- 
plexed at a mystery so completely out 
of the range of his thought as this was. 
Women, however, possess a readier 
talent for solving small dirticnlties than 
men J a fact, of which Molsh, after a 
few minutes* close attention, gave am- 
ple proof. 

*^ I'd iiould goold to silver/ she ex- 
ciaimed, " I have it,' 

*' Faith, Fm not disputing that," said 
the husband. 

" I'm spakin' of the manin',** she con- 
tinued, '* and here it is — the pTiest*8 
surplus signifies that hell be a priest," 

'* And what part of a pricst*8 gear is 
his surplus Y* enquired Bosthoon. 

•' Why, it's the white shirt, man-alive, 
that he puts on bim of a Sunday." 

" But how will yon rekinsile the 
biackihorn an* the surplus ?*' continued 
BostliQon again. 

-* Why, it Big ni ties, that hell be a 
thurn in the side of the heretics, an* a 
black thorn, too, to them,** 

*' Be the shamroguc, MoUh, that's 
great arguin' etirirely — almost as deep 
as Scripthcr. Faith, you df^sarvc a sup 



Auiohifi^fraphy of the 



[Jun. 



o* something for that, find mtiit get it, 
too» Come, hand out the hoitle — hy 
the thrpc blessed Itives, we'll ilnirk suc- 
t'e^s to younnr Father Blat^kthorn in 
spite o' the world, an' long life to liira.** 
N«» man oouhl si'i? a dixrk or difficult 
jiiiirir, wliinj tliily und K5iti«factorily ex- 
pkint'd, belter than Bosthoon^ H«, 
tliCTi?forp, chirj:^ to hh wifc^s interpre- 
tation of" the dreurn with a pertinacity 
worthy of his character. In point of 
fact, he was n^mrly as proud of young 
Blackthorn before he entered upon the 
stage of life at all* a§ ever he wa^ ufier- 
wanJs. A more literal individ^ial could 
not possibly exist. If he mij^ht he said 
to calculate at all upon a mere specu- 
lative point, which is a mBtter not easily 
seUl***!, it is certain, that he never for a 
moment took ^iieh a ihin^ us a contin- 
gency into consideration . It entered 
not once into his head, for instance, 
that his wife rai^ht present him with a 
daughter* inslewd of a son ; und when 
she polnt€ii out to him Ihe probahi)ity 
of such an event, he treated It witn 
gfcat Bcorn^ and stuck to the dreani as 
an oracle. From that dialogue until 
Molshy's confinement, whenever he 
happened to get a glass or two in, he 
sadly puzzled his friends and neigh- 
bours by his huge wink?, grotesque 
gnmrnaee??, and nods so omluous, that 
they might very well [irecerle the birth 
of a prodigy. Often and often he 
insisted that thev should drmk the 
health of young Father Blackthorn j 
but who young Father Blackthorn was, 
from whence he came* or where lie 
might be found, no human ingenuity 
could get out of him. Even Molshy 
herself was rather annoyed with him, 
for scarcely a day passed in which he 
did not give her a di^imal leer» whilst, 
at the same time he eoijulrcd in an as- 
tounding whijsper. with one eyebrow 
raU^^d, probably half way up his fore- 
head, and the other unmoved, 

** Well, my thracle, how is Father 
Blackthorn ? Eh, Molsh ? Faith hell 
be a credit to the M* Flails, — an' Fm 
as proud as. a paycock out of him al- 
ready. As for you, I'll dhrame you 
against any woman in the barony." 

Much mirth, indeed, was occa^^ioned 
by his perpetual allusions to Father 
Blackthorn ; and many persons, over- 
rating their own powers of penetra- 
tion, undertook to extract the secret 
out of him, as to who his reverence 
mtglit be. All they eonld get how- 
ever, was a portentous dislocation of 
the features, designed fi»r a right know- 
ifig wink, or a grin of defiance, that 



would not have disgraced Franken- 
stein. 

Molshy's female relatives, however, 
having come to a knowledge of the 
mysterious Father Biackthnrn, his re- 
verence in a short time became a well- 
known character in the parish, and had 
his health drank mauy's the good time 
and of\en, at the convivial meetings of 
Bosthoon and his friends, even before 
he had the good fortune of being en- 
dowed with visible existence. 

The rea<Ier sec« from what 1 have 
already written, that Father Bliick- 
thnrn wan much more fortunate than 
other men, I believe he stands the 
only solitary instance, from among 
all those who have been illustrious 
since the world began, of any man, 
(setting nside scriptural and prophetic 
characters,) who was ever celebrated 
before his birth* No wonder for hiia 
to say, as he of^cn solemtdy did, that 
he was never created to be a nonen- 
tity; — and surely the man whom Fame 
claimed to herself before his entrance 
into life, she will not now abandon, 
after he has departed out of it. She 
met him halfway in the heginnitig, and 
now let her give hirn a decent convoy 
at the end. To neglect him, however, 
is out of her power. Father M*Flail 
was not doomed to be remembered 
only to be forgotten. No : for as the 
poet said upon an occasion not iHsd- 
milar to that which renders the quota* 
tion so applicable : — 

Vuealcm brnvliiTit atla sul>punr« I^itinl. 

At length the important crisis and 
the midwife both arrived, — and Bos- 
thoon saw the latter personage enter 
w4th a chuckle, that seemed to be a 
cross between a laugh and a groan. 
He immediately betook himself to the 
barn, where he lav do\M\ on a couch of 
straw, and with Ids face to the roof 
tried to manage the right merry jig of 
" Harvest-Home.** Every now and 
then, however, he arose* and putting 
in his face, which was more than ordi- 
narily dig'ointed by the contending 
effects of hope and anxiety, he asked, 
in a voice which deiies description, — 

"Has Father Blackthorn arrived 
yet?" 

** No, indeed,*' replied the servant- 
wench i **and plaze Goodness there 
wont be any occasion for either priest 
or docthor. Go out o* that wid you, 
masther, till youVe sent for." 

** By the snamrogne, when his reve- 
rence ap|>cars FU soon hear of it, any 
how, Brceid. — Wahaw! wee ho I hoT 
And out he straggled once more to the 



laar.] 



Utv, Bkwkthorn M' Flail PJ\-^Chap. L 



U 



bam, retumcd his hariz(mtftt no^ittoii 
on the itraw, and cominenced tae crofii 
I have ju5t alluded to. 

But in truth I riiust pay a word or 
two more about Bosthoon's character, 
before hif reverence himself makes hii 
dehui upon that stage vi here lie is des^ 
tined to play so consplcuQU^ a parL 
Bostboon in fact was the representa- 
tive of a cla»« of men viho nave not 
yet, at leaf t as far as I remember, been 
described by any writer upon Irish 
character. In the common affUirs of 
life he was, notwithstanding his pon- 
derous stupidity, as little of a fool as 
ever drove a bargain. Instead of that, 
m matters where he felt a direct or 
persotial interest^ no human being 
could outwit him* There was a dog- 
ged ingenuity about him which, whiUt 
it lulled suspicion^ seldom left the 
keenest roffue of his acquaintance any 
thing but discomfiture to boast of. Yet 
whttt was strange enough, he had tlie 
character of beiiig a fool with all those 
who only met him in conversation j 
whilst, on tl»e other hand, if you iisked 
the opinion of those who dealt with 
him* and who tliemselves stood high as 
keen and cautions itit'n of business, 
you would hear sumcthing to this 
effect : — 

"BosUioon M* Flail a fool I^ Ay, ay! 
Well, go and buy him for one, and 
then see if you C4io boast of j^onr bar- 
gain. To look in his tace you 
wouldn't turn him out of a cabba^e- 
den ; but, if yon want to kriow 
ithoon, go and ilale wid lum. A 
\\ \ — be me sowl he'd buy and sell 
half tlte parish, for all so simple as he 

locks." 

What contributed very much to the 
depreciation of Bostfaoon's character 
was the blank, unsy in metrical expres- 
sion of bis great features, and the fum- 
bling sheepiahness of his manners, 
— to which I may add the posscssiun 
of A head so utterly foreign to anj^ 
tbimg tike pure Intellect, that it was 
indeed no wonder he bore the charac- 
ter of being deficient in sense. Iti> 
deed, tike most men of his class^ it 
might be truly affirmed of him, that he 
possessed a large share of cunning and 
shrewdness, with a slender develop- 
Qient of the moral and intellectual 
powers. 

When the announcement of the 
lurlh of n "thumpin* Uoy** was mAile to 
hitu hv the servant* there was .tn tw- 



wou 

^Ki 



fully impatient struggle among Ihe 
straw, occasioned by his hurry to get 
uf>— for it is but ju5i to sEiy, that the 
huge fellow was by no means insensible 
to the better domestic feelings. The 
history of bis own iniquity, tor instance^ 
given to Father M'Flewsthtr, was occa- 
sioned nearly as much by u kind of 
unshaped hall ncj native a tfect ion for my 
aunt Mol shy's person, as by a powerful 
hunkering after her wealth. 

** Tundher-an -whiskey, is he come 
at last ! Hurroo, bovs-^' There's fire 
on the mountains — run, boys, run !* " 
saying which, he started from the bam 
at a sling-trut, with one shoulder far in 
advance of hii body, and, entering the 
kitchen, shouted as if he were announ- 
cing the final conflagrution — " Where's 
the priest i' — baugh-agh, agh-ogh-o 1 
— whereas the clargy ? — show forth his 
reverence — tundher-au*whiskey, how 
does he look T 

*• I'm striving*" — said the midwife, 
coming out of another room — ** I'm 
striving to give liim a little sugar an" 
wather — it mU of>on the cratburs — an*s 
aisy taken \ but sorra tpudh of it hell 
taste, of all the diildher ever I brought 
to the world, whatever'g the rason 

of nr 

^' No — nor the diottal saize the drop 
o' your sugar and wather he'll let cross 
his lips^ — the same clargy" — said Bos- 
thoon — ** faith be knows a thricL worth 
two o' that^ — but, Til tell yoii w hat, my 
ould fingers mi th, put the whiskey to it 
— put the stiff drop to it, an* thm see 
buw^ he'll act — hagb-agh-agh, ogh- 
hugh. Ax his mother, Norry — ax ker 
for that. Darrydages ! the shaver 
to be cute so soon— wee* ho ! ho T* 

And he uttered a neigh of indescri- 
bable exultation. 

" Welh avourncen," replied Norry, 
*• you might give a worse advice, sure 
enough — an' indeed 1 often do the 
same thing. The sorra better /lo^/wa/* 
ever crossed a childs lips, any how.*" 

" My life on him, "said BiMtboon, ** itll 
go down like new milk.'' She according- 
ly, in compliance with thefdther*s pre- 
scription, added a quantum mMvd of 
the whiskey to the sugar and water, 
after which she tried his reverence with 
the draught thus improved ; and pr e- 
cisely as Hoi>thoon had predicted lie 
set his eye and laying hla gum to the 
spoon, drew iik its eoutcnts with tt keen 
•jkMise of enjoyment that eonid not be 
mi^tdken lor mere animal appclitc. 




S!^ 



AiUobioffraph^ of the Bev, B, JU'Fhih PP. 



[Jan- 



•' Saints in Paredies !" exclaimed t!ic 
mid wife, " how he takes it in !" That I 
may never if he*s not following the 
•poon! Wuirah! look at the little 
mouth of him searching^ ahout for it I 
t^aith it'll corae nathral to yoti when 
you get upjavourneen, or Vm not here ; 
but any how. faith here's another tbrial 
(1 licit — yoii tuck the first so manly/' 

Norry had scarcely concluded* when 
the yoyngster feelinsf himself prolmbly 
refreshed by what he had first gotten, 
gave a erow of saiisfaetion that was 
heard through the whole house* 

•'VVhagh-aghr shouted Bosthoon ; 
" Be me soa^K the game drop's in you^ 
my cock — you'll do yet." 

Saying which, he forced the midwife 
to place her charge in his arms ; and 
having then secured his reverence, he 
strided up and down the kitchen, hug- 
ging and eating him, and uttering 
noiaes of delight so singular, that I eaii 
iiud i[i the range of natural sounds none 
at all with winch to compare them. 
Indeed^ he appeared iioi unlike a white 
bear carrying the young one in it^ 
pttW9, and tastefully licking it into 
shapes, 

A I Bo9thoon*a dctermioation to 
make the first forthcoming isaue of his 
niarriaffo a priest hud taken wind 
through the agency of Ifis wife*s female 
relations, the appearance of a son was, 
of coursp, hailed by them all with 
great delight and a ati a fact ion. It 
would, indeed, be hard to guf^ss how- 
he might have acted bad their first- 
born been of a different sex. Whether 
in the doijged faluitv of a mind like his 
he woidd have put ner into inexpres- 
sibles, in order to bear out his predeter- 
min.itc intention, auti sent her to May- 
nooth as a candidate for the mission. 
As it happened the chubby face at 
*' a beautiftd hoy** saved him much 
doleful anxiety, and the ceaseless cur- 
rying' of a huge frizxhfd head npuu the 
subject. One determination, however, 
he came to, and that was, to give the 
"youngclargy" such a christening as had 
never been seen in that part of the p-t- 
ri^h duiing lime imiuearorial. As soon^ 
therefore, as Molshy was able to stir 
abroad, Boslhoon pressfd upon her the 
necessity of making imme<iiate prepu- 
mlions for that festive ceremony, *Tis 
true sliedenmrred heavily to the scale 
cm which he had fixed his h*^art to con- 
duct it. All that deprecation, etitreaty 
and point-blank resistance c*Hdd do 
w IS attempted im her t»art. She had 
Unt, however, to grapple with a man, 
but a bear, and although his hugs were 



not hugs of destructiveness, itUl there 
was a loving ferocity about them which 
no mere woman could resist with 
safety to her bones. The fact is, that 
Boslhoon either actually got into a 
fresh fit of fondness, or as he had a 
design in it, probably ieigneil the fit. Be 
this as it tnay, Euchan eternal grappling 
did he keep with her, that out oi mere 
self-defence, she consented to let him 
have his own way as to thechristentug, 
and, indeed, as to everything else con* 
nected with young Blackthoni and bis 
prospects. 

Bosthoon, having now gained this 
important point, spared neither time, 
labour, nor expense in marking the 
bold outline of this grand festivity. — ► 
The fellow was not only big himself, 
but had a heart worthy of a Colossus. 
Though keen at a bargain, he was no 
ni|2rgard, and never had the same heart 
in a penny, fcjr a right good reason^ be- 
cause his Majesty never is^iued a coin 
large etujugh in circumference to con* 
tain iL No, no, faith. Poor Bos- 
thooo with all his sheepnshncss could 
never see a friend in distress without 
relieving him, and in this did his son 
Father Blackthorn resemble Inra, as 
the reader will find if he have patience 
to peruse the events of hiis hie to its 
close. The same reader may infer 
from what I huve already written, and 
from what he supposes I may write, 
that Father Blackthorn was a drunkard, 
but with great reppect to his sagacity, 
I beg to inform liim that though fond 
of his gbss» he was never drunk in hii 
life, which is more than every sober 
man can say. 

When his father, Bosthoon, or big 
Bosthoon, as he was in general called, 
had hugged Mobhy into compliance 
with his extensive notion of what 
young Blackthorn's christening might 
to be, he im mediately invited to the 
remotest branch, his wife's connexions 
and his own. First in importance was 
F'alher llogcr M'Flcwslher, the parish 
priest, and his curate, Father Barile 
O'Fag ; after whom came a large and 
varieil assort meat of the M' Flails, 
M'Funs, M*Flummerys, M*Fuds, their 
cousins, (he M^Scutts, and the 0*Slce- 
vecna, all of whom a^senibled to ceic* 
brute the baptismal festivity of our 
licro. 

But as this is a matter of too much 
importance to be brought in at the end 
of a chapter, 1 must defer it until 
next month. 

Kind f oftder, thine for the present. 



1837.] Anthologia Gei^mamcair^No. IX, 33 

ANTHOLOGIA 6BBKANICA. — NO. IX. 

8CHILLER*S DRAMA OF WALLENSTEIN'S CAMP.— PART H. 

Scene VIII. — Gipsy-kids cothc fonvard and go through a waUz, first to a slow 
and afterwards gradually to a quick measure. The First Yager dances with the 
Servant-girl, and the Recruit with the Sutleress ; after a while the Servant-girt 
runs off, and the Yager, in attempting to catch her, lays hold of a Capuchin 
Friar who has just entered. 

CAPUCHIN. 

«* Huzza/ huzza J Ri ti turn HT 
Rare sport I tine doings ! — and I, too, by I 
is this an army of Christians oi not ? 
Are ye Turks ? or Anabaptists ? or what ? 

Tiiat thus ye profane the Sabbath day, 
As if the Almiffbty God had got 

The gout in his hand, and so couldn't slay. 
Is this, pray, a time for dancing and trolling 
Lascivious lays, for feasting and lolling ? 

Ovid hie statis otiosi f 
The thunders of War break o'er the Donan,* 
Arousing to action or striking with awe, 

And here ye sit wreathing your temples with rosy 
Chaplets ! — Bavaria's bulwark is gone. 

And Ratisbon lies in the grasp of the foe. 
Yet the army here caper and banquet on. 

Not caring one rush how matters may go ; 
Look less by far to battles than bottles. 
And load with grape-^hot, not their rifles, but throttles ; 
Seek trencliers, not trenches, are much more contentious 
For girls than girdles, as all may discern ; 
And prefer eating oxen to Oxenstem.f 
But while your battalions are thus regaling, 
In sackcloth and ashes Religion is wailing; 
For this is a time of terror and woe. 
There are signs above and troubles below ; 

Hie comet is flaming alotl like a sword ; 
Strange lightnings are driven through each lattice of Heaven, 

And forth from the clouds by the hand of the Lord 
The blood-red Banner of War is unfurled. 
One great lazar-house is the groaning world ! 
Where, where shall we look for the Heralds of Good ? 
The Ark of the Church is drifting in blood. 

And alas, for the Holy Roman Empire / 
A prey to the roaming empirics that vex 

Her quiet, and drain her veins as a vampire ! 
The bisboprtcf are but h\9\\oi^wrecks. 

And the aisles of our church unpeopled isles ; 
The holy places are wholly places 

Which Rapine plunders and Riot defiles. 
And the shattering axe of War defaces. 
The waters of Ritme are waters of brine^ 
Nor in Gernuiny ytt is found any germ 
Of hope that her ills wiil soon flow to a term. 
Whence cometh all this ? What is it entices 
These evils ? What, pray, but your crimes and vices — 



• TIm Danube. 

f Dix«ctor- General of the aifairs of Sweden after the death of Gustavus AdoTphiM. 
Vol. IX. i> 



34 Anthologia Germanica. — No. IX, • [Ja 

Your loose and heathenish lives, wherein 

Both soldier and officer share the sin ? 

Yes ! Sin is the drag-net, or rather the magnet 

That draws the sharp steel through the core of the land, 

For Punishment follows what Sin has planned, 

As tears must trickle when onions are smelled to 

And here is the rule you scholars are held to— 
So long as you con Sin's A, B, C, 
(Though the truth may P Q,*) R, (e) S, T. 
Will fly from U wherever U be. 

Si offenditur Detis, ubi erit 

VictorkB spes f — how can ye have spirit 

To combat and conquer, if ye pass 

Your hours in the pot-house, and sculk from Mass ? 

The woman the Gospel speaks of found 

The penny again she had dropped on the ground ; 

Saul met with his father's asses anew. 

And Joseph his penitent brethren too ; 

But reverence either for God or his Church, 

Or the sense of shame, or the feeling of right. 

No man among soldiers can And, though he light 

A hundred candles to aid his search. 

In Sacred Writ we are also apprized 

That the soldiers were wont to throng and press 

The preacher, John, in the Wilderness : 

These men did penance and were baptized. 

And sought a light from their holy guide : 

Quid/acievius nos ? they enquired^ 

What things shall we do ? or, what are desired ? 

Et ait iliis — to whom he replied 

Thus : Nenunein concufiaiis. 

That is, Do violence unto none ; 

Neque caluvmiam fadatis^ 

Nor yet calumniate auy one ; 

Contenti estate — and never desire — 

Stipendiis vestris — more than your hire. 

Accursed is every wicked hand ! 

Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord 

Thy God in vain — so saith the command ; 

Yet where were more blasphemies ever out-poured, 

Where now is there more that shocks the ear, 

Than in your Duke Friedland*s head quarters here ? 

If at every Donncr und Blitz ye bawl 

One bell were to ring from each steeple, the most 

Of the bells would soon cease ringing at all. 

For none would adventure the sexton's post ; 

And if for each of the evil wishes, 

Each malison out of your mouths that issues, 

There dropped from your heads but one little hair 

Those heads, though like Absalom's poll in the mom, 

Ere night arrived would be bald and bare. 

By Joshua arms, as by ye, were bonie ; 

King David o'erthrew the giant Goliah ; 

But where is it written, or where will ye spy a 

Page stating that either of these, or both. 

Were foul-mouthe.l swearers ? Pray, why could ye not 

As well say Lord spare us / as Kreuz Sackerht f 

Or would it be double your common lip-trouble 

To mutter a prayer where ye splutter an oath ? 

But, verily, out of the heart's abundance 

The mouth ever speak eth in wordy redundance. 

♦ Piqu» you. 



1887.] WaUemteins Camp. 9S 

Agsun, it is written, Thou slialt not steal : 
But this commandment ye do not break, 
For ye openly plunder whatever ye take : 
From your ferreting eyes it is hard to conceal 
A pin'sworth of goods ; — with your vulture-clutch 
Ye pounce on the cow while the calf is within her ; 
Ye seize on the hen and egg both for your dinner ; 
And ye ransack the till for your pockets : yea, such 
Is the answer ye make to St John's exhortations, 
Contenti estate. Put up with your rations. 

But how should I hope to give laud to the men, 
If the Master himself is a reprobate ? When 
The head is unsound the members will suffer ; 
Now, what is his creed ? Has it ever been known ? 

FIRST YAGER. 

Sir Priest, you may handle us even yet rougher, 
But, as to the General, let him alone ! 

CAPUCHIN. 

Ne ciAstodku gregem rneam / 
The Achab I the Jeroboam ! we see him 
Seducing the people away from the truth, 
To the idols his hand sets up, forsooth ! 

TRUMPETER and RECRurr. 
Friar ! take our advice, and don't tell us that twice ! 

CAPUCHIN. 

Such a belswagger and mouthing dare-devil, 
Who brags that he's able to capture and level 
All castles and towns, and swears he'll obtain 
Even Stralsund itself, although it were knitted 
To Heaven's own vault with a brazen chain — 

TRUMPETER. 

Will nobody gag him ? Shall this be permitted ? 

CAPufcHlN. 

Such a ^'allower in sorcery — such a King Saul — 

A Jehu — a Holofernes to all. 

Who denies, like Peter, his Master and Lord, 

And by whom the cock's crowing is therefore abhorred.* 

BOTH YAGERS. 

Another word. Priest, and your doom is sure I 

CAPUCHIN. 

Such a Herod-like fox and over-reacber — 

TRUMPETER and BOTH YAGERS, (closing routid him, ) 
Be silent, or die ! 

THE CROATS, (interposing,) 
Rattle on, old preacher ! 
Speak out like a man ; you arc quite secure. 

CAPUCHIN, {at the pitch of his voice.) 
Such a backslider and Nebuchadnezzar, 
Such a salnt-flouter and infidel-pleaser. 
Is called, they say, Wallbnstisin — that's to say WaUastone, 
And a fit name it is, for he is unto aU a stone — 
A stone, too, of stumbling, and while, for our humbling. 
The Raiser shall thus vest his powers in Duke Friedland, 
Bohemia from troubles will ne'er be Si/reed land. 

{He graduaUy retreats while uttering the last words, the Croats, in tlie interuUf keeping 
the soldiers at hay. J 

Scene IX. — The same persons, the Capuchin excepted. 

FIRST YAGER, fto th^ Setjeant-Major.) 
Pray, tell me, what led the preacher to say 



• Wallenstein was said to shudder whenever he heard a cock crow. 



96 Anihologia Gemumica. — No* IX. [Jan. 

That our General hated the crow of a cook ? 
Wa8*t a tale of a tub ? Did he mean but to mock ? 

SERJEANT-KAJOR. 

To tell you the truth, be was no way astray ; 

Our leader is fearfully made, it appears, 

And has got a most exquisite pair of ears : 

He starts if the cat mew suddenly near him, 

And when the cock crows, he shudders to hear him. 

FIRST YAGER. 

The lion, they say, has the same kind of dread. 

SERJEANT-MAJOR. 

Around him all things must be hushed as the dead. 
The guards upon duty have got that command. 
For in silence alone can his projects be planned. 

VOICES fjrom the tent, amid great uproar, J 
Ha ! whack him, the knave ! lay on ! don't cease ! 

THE feasant's VOICE. 

Help! mercy I 

other voices. 
Peace ! peace ! for Heaven's sake, peace ! 
first yager. 
The devil ! they've kicked up some dust I — what a clatter ! 

second yageo. 
Ill have share of the fun. 

fBoth run into the tent J 
SUTLERESS, (comng out of it, J 
The robber I the wretch ! 

trumpetfa. 
How now, my good dame I wliy so wroth ? what's the matter ? 

SUTLERE88. 

The rag-stack ! the scamp ! the villain I I'll teach 
Him to come to my tent and fling sand in my eye, 
And so many great officers standing by I 

BERJfiANT-MAJOR. 

What's all this about ? 

8UTLERESS. 

What is it about? 
That vagabond peasant has just been found out 
Throwing loaded dice on my table there ! 

TRUMPETER. 

And here he comes with his worthy heir. 

Scene X. — The Peasant enters, dragged along by troopers, 
first yager. 
Hell swing ! 

riflemen and dragoons. 
To the Provost-marshal ! 

SERJEANT-MAJOR. 

Who'll send 
Him a line to peruse, though it won't much amuse. 

SUTLERE88. 

Ay ! that line he shall read, ere an hour, in the noose / 

SERJEANT-MAJOR. 

Well, Frost and Fraud will have each a foul end. 

FIRST HARQOEBUSBIER. 

This is just the fair fruit of desperation ; 

When a man is broke horse and foot he must chusc. 

Without further ado, between theft and starvation. 

TRUMPETER. 

What the plague ! Do you, then, stand up to excuse 
The dog ? You had best keep your tongue in your cheek. 

FIRST HARQUEBUSSIER. 

The peasant, at worst, is a man, so to speak. 

KRST YAGER, fto the Trumpeter,) 
Poh r Tiefenbach's corps!— who'd mind what they tell us ? 
First cousins of snobs and glovc-patchers ! — fellows 



1837.] WaUenstein'M CoMnp. 87 

Shut up in Brieg garrison ! Much thev know 
Of the way that matters in wartime go f 

Scene XL — To these enter two Cuirassiers. 

FIRST CUULASSIEB. 

Peace ! Why is the peasant here ? What does this mean ? 

FIRST RIFLEBfAN. 

The scoundrel has bubbled the soldiers at play. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

He has bubbled you, do you mean to say ? 

FIRST RIFLEMAN, 

Ay, of every rap — ^has plucked me clean. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

Shame! You are a Friedlander, yet you throw dice 
With a hobnail I I'm glad you were foiled by his cunning. 
Perhaps you can match him, however, in runniog : 
There I deuce take the hindmost I — they're off in a trice I 

( The Feasant scampers off. The EiJUmen follow, but return before the conclusion of 

the piece,) 

FIRST UARQUEBUBSIER. 

A man of decision, who knows how to come 

To the point in a jiffey ! Pray, where is he from ? 

He's not a Bohemian, I'd swear, somehow. 

8UTLBRESS. 

No, no ; a Walloon ! The army reveres 
The name of the Pappenheim Cuirassiers ! 

FIRST DRAGOON. 

Young Piccolomini commands them now ; 
They elected him Colonel themselves the day 
Of the bloody and bootless Lutzen affray. 
When a musquet4)all laid Pappenheim flat. 

FIRST HABQUEBUSSIER. 

Were they never called over the coals for that ? 

FIRST DRAGOON. 

Deuce a bit ! Thev have always encountered the brunt 
Of the fiercest shocks in the battle's front ; 
So they've ^ot their own by-laws apart from all others. 
And the Fnedlander loves the whole regiment as brothers. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER, fto the sscond.J 
Are you certain ? Who told you ? Who spread the report ? 

SECOND CUIRASSIER. 

Who told me ? The Colonel himself, in short. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

What ! are we his dogs, that he treats us thus ? 

FIRST YAGER. 

What fdls them ? They seem to be splitting iK-ith spite. 

SECOND YAGER. 

Is there any thing, brothers, relating to us ? 

FIRST CUIRASSIER — (comtng forward,) 
O, enough ; but not much that you'll hear with delight. 
Here are we, eight thousand good cavaliers. 
Sharpshooters, and Yagers, and Cuirassiers, 
Who must troop to the Netherlands, now, it appears. 

SUTLERESS. 

The Netherlands ? What ! again, do you say ? 
Why, I came from Holland but yesterday. 

SECOKD CUIRASSIER, 'fto the Dragoons,J 
You also must come with us, you Dragoons. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

And we in the van, of course, the Walloons! 

SUTLERESS. 

Good lack ! then the flower of the army is lost. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

We join that Milanese General's host. 



36 



Anthvhgia Germanica* — No. 2X. 



[J All. 



riBST YAGKtU 

The Car(fliial Infant ? That is curious ! 

SECOND YACEfU 

The priest ? 'Tis enough to set one furious I 

FIRST CUI[1AS6I£&* 

Shall wc thus bs driven to that beggarly Flanders. 
Awav from Duke Fne*lhn<l, the beat of commanders ? 
Shall we march to the field for Spaniards ? — for those 
Whom we hate froui our hearts, and should rather oppose ? 
Ill be banged if / do so ! Til lirst ryu away- 

TRUMPETfiR. 

Why, this is the devil ! Admitting we may 

Have disposed of our hides to the Kuiser* is that 

A cause why we should fight for a S|>anisb Red Hat 't 

SECOND YAOEa. 

Wc hate taken up aims, let all understand, 
At the P'riedlaoder's wish and word alone j 
Were it not for Wallenstein Ferdinanil 
Might look, elsewhere for the props of \\i^ tbrone^ 

FIRST BttAGOON. 

Since 'tis to the Frietllander*s genius wc all owe 
Our triumphs^ his fortunes alone we will follow, 

SERJEANT-MAJOn* 

My friends ! will you lislou lo me for a inonieut ? 
A matter like this is fit subject for comment. 
1 sec rtilher further, 1 tliiijk» than yon all. 
And 1 fear that all this but preludes a full. 

FIRST YAGER. 

Attend to Sir Oracle i Sileuce \ Be still I 

SERJEANT-MAJOR. 

But first of all, Gusty, I beg yon will fill 

Mc a glass of Mclneckcr — my stomach is weak, 

And the wine may give me some spirit to speak. 

iUTLEBEss, (JiUintj the tjiuss fur him.} 
Here, good Serjeant-major ! You frighten one sadly : 
I do hope your story won't turn out so badly ! 

HERJEANT-MAJOK. 

Now, Sir>«, tli(mgh the truth is contested by none 

That a man s first care should be Number One, 

Yet still — iis the General says— and 'tis true — 

The Many should always be kept in view. 

We, all of us here, are the Friedlander's troops — 

Before ns tlic burgher his door unlocks — 

He gives us good beds, and suppers^ and soups ; 

And the pejisaiit must yoke bis borse and his ojc 

Ti> our bng^age-waggons — he dares not refuse — 

We can deal with his property just as wc chusf * 

Let a Liincepesade^ with a humdfyl of men 

Btft quarter himself and his troop in a village, 

He is despot and autocrat tlicre and then, 

And at will can range, and ravage, and pillage. 

They like us not, thcrelbrc ; they dread us-^^and w^outd 

As soon see the devil himself as see 

Our curst yellow jackets. How, then, can it be 

That they rush not dowu on us, tierce as a flood, 



• A soldier who holds a rank midway between a private and a corporal. Lanct" 
pelade h now almoi!>t obsolcie^ hut was in u^e among the English writers of th« 
tpveuleeuth cenlwry. It is derived from tlie Italian Lancln Sptzznta-^^ hrokeo 
Imue, (viz, a reduced officer;) aiid th« French Ansjiesaad^ — ^an inferior corporal — la 
a Gfimiptioo of the term. Lunccpesnde is not to be confounded with Lanc€ 
corporal — the latter heing a full corpor«l, though he receives but the pay o( a private. 
The word in the text is Grfreitvft i. c. aa Exempt — a soldier who lias the cotamaod 
df firoiD four to ieven men, and h exempt horn muuiitiug guard. 



1837.] Wallensteins Camp. 39 

And sweep from the land each plundering band ? 

The sword mijrht be met by the quarter-staff, 

And they, of the two, are far the more numerous : 

How is it, then, that we force the riff-raff 

To crouch at our feet, to serve us, and humour us — 

How, I say, is it that this comes to pass. 

But because we combine in one terrible mass ? 

FIRST YAGER. 

You are right, boy ! — all power in the Aggregate lies ; 

A truth not hid from the Friedlander neither. 

When eight years ago he brought under the eyes 

Of the Kaiser the whole of the army together. 

" Twelve thousand," 'twas told him, "they must not exceed." 

** Pooh ! — twelve," said the Duke, " I never can feed 

But let me have xir/y thousand, and see 

If they're not as well quartered as troops can be." 

So the Kaiser agreed to shell out the shiners ; 

And in double quick time we were all Wallenstciners. 

SERJEANT-MAJOR. 

No doubt. For example, unsheath your brand 

And lop the least finger off my hand. 

Do you think that in lopping that finger away 

You have taken the finger alone ? 1 say 

You have robbed my hand of all strength and worth. 

And that which remains is a sti^mp thenceforth. 

So is it with these eight thousand horse 

Now ordered for Flanders ; they are, as it were. 

No more than the army's least finger in force ; 

But, lop them away, and say, if you dare, 

That the army is only a fifth part the worse ! 

I tell you, these lost, it is up with the host ; 

All fear is gone by — all respect and dread— 

The peasant replumes his crest, and again a 

Black series of bills in the Courts of Vienna 

Are filed against us for board and bed ; 

And then we may dine with Duke Humphrey instead 

Of Duke Friedland, who also will sink in the wreck ; 

There are creatures at court just now who would not 

Be sorry to stamp, if they could, on his neck ; 

In short, we and ours will all go to pot. 

For, who is to stand to us ? How can we build 

On the hope that our contracts will e'er be fulfilled ? 

Division is Ruin, while Union is Power — 

Put the case : look at us, as we are at this hour I 

What skill or what strength could avail to pierce 

Our square battalions, united and fierce, 

Though of different climes, as Fll shew you. — Dragoon, 

Pray, what may the name of your fatherland be ? 

FIRST DRAGOON. 

Old Ireland, my hearty ! Slap that down for me. 

BERJEANT-MAJOR, fto the two Cuirassicrs.J 
And you, as I take it, are — one a Walloon, 
And one an Italian — I guess from your tongue. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

O! deuce a know / know from whom I am sprung ; 
Some Tagabonds kidnapped me when I was young. 

SERJEANT-MAJOR, (to the first Harquebussitr . ) 
You were bom, I am positive somewhere near this. 

FIRST UARQUEBUSSIER. 

I come from Buchau, by the blue Feder Sea. 

SERJEANT-MAJOR, fto the second Harquebussier.J 
And you, neighbour, yonder there ? 

SECOND UARQUEBUSSIER. 

I am a Swiss. 



«> 



Anlhologia Geijncmau — No^ IX, 



flEftJEANT-MAJOii, fio the first Yager, J 
Atid yon, from what part of the land are you, Yag-cr? 

fiRST yAOER. 

•Twaa Wismargave birth to roj pnople and me, 

gERJEANT-MAJOa. 

And joii and I, Trumpeter, we are from E^rer. 

Yet, who that htid seen u^ suiiifiioned to horse, 

And combined by one blast from the trumpet's mouth. 

Would have drennied we thus tnet frotn north and from south, 

And not rathtr beheld in ns one dense force ? 

Are we not, like the complicate works of a mill. 

Put in motion at once by one governing: will ? 

Is it not by ouc impiilae we move to oppose — 

We ebargje — uc a weep down on — we sabre our foes ? 

And whit ia the ])ower that hath knitted and fijied us 

Till none who behold can dtstm^ulsh bet^'iJtt us ? 

What is it but Walleustein's tact and address ? 

SECOND YAGEH. 

To me such a view is new, 1 confess ; 
My way is to let the rest of the horse 
Fight devil, fight dog, and take my own course. 

riEBT CLitftAfiSlEB. 

The Serjeant- Major is right! Tt screws a roost 
Diabolieal tampering' now with the Crown ; 
They are hungering to trample the army down, 
Tbut they and their clique may rule the roast. 
It IS all a conspiracy, all a damo*d plot \ 

SUTLERESS* 

A plot? a conspiracy''' Ach* mem GoU/ 
Tbea I am blown up, I am dislied.^^that*8 clear I 

BEELJIIANT-MAJOR. 

Ye», yes ! we shall soon be all bankrupt* here. 

I happen to know of isonie officers who 

Are paying their men from their own privy purse;, 

Expecting their cash, with fat interest too, 

In the end :^ — now these, when the Duke falls, of coutac. 

In lieu of their havings a fortune to fob, 

Will find it, Fm thinking, a cursed bad job. 

SUTLKBEaS. 

O, Heavens above I-^^ud the half of the army 
So deep in my books ! You ?adly alarm me : 
Tbere*a Count laolani, one of the chief — 
He owes me two hundred dollars, the thief J 

PtHST CUI&ASSIEE. 

Well, comrades, berets matter, no doubt, to scare %vs ; 
However 'tis plain what must be our plan ; 
They will not, they dare not overbear us 
If we only stand out and combine us one man. 
Let them issue their mandates and proclamations ; 
Well stick to our old Bohemian stations ; 
We wi!l not truckle^we never will bow. — ' 
The soldier contends for his honor now [ 

SECOND YAGER. 

We*ll not go a-tramping, the Lord knows whither : 

If the Dutch want a trouncing, why, let them come lather. 

rrasT HARQCEacsstRai 
My friends, you should ponder this well at your leisure. 
*Ti« the Kaiser's own order— his high will and pleasure. 

TEUMPETKH. 

A fig for the Kaiser ! He*s nothing to us, 

HRST MARQOEBUSBIEE, 

Come, come, my good fellow, you mustn't talk thus, 

TRUMPETEE. 

I say but the truth, and whafs dotibted by none. 



1837.] WtMemtein's Camp. 41 

FIRST YA6EB. 

'Tis too true for a ballad : the Kaiser did g^ovem. 
But the Friedlander now is the Sovereign's Sovereign. 

SEBJEANT-MAJOA. 

Yes, that's the condition he holds office on. 
He has absolute power, without shackle or bar, 
To rule in the councils — make peace or make ii'ar ; 
Can confiscate lands—can amerce and ban — 
Proscribe and proclaim— can save and can kill — 
Can hang as he pleases, or pardon at will — 
Can make and unmake all field-officers — can 
In fine, act as Monarch himself in the land — 
This privilege he holds from the Kaiser's ovin hand. 

FiaST HABQUEB088IER. 

He has great prerogatives — fearful powers — 
That can't be denied ; but the Emperor still, 
I insbt, b his master as much as ours. 

BEBJSANT-MAJOa. 

Not quite at much, because Wallenstein 

Is, mind, a Frey-herr, — an enfranchised Prince 

Of the Empire, fully as good in his line 

As he of Bavaria. Not very long since 

When on duty at Brandeis, did I not see 

That Wallenstein's princely head was suffered 

By the Kaber himself to continue covered ? 

FIRST HAEQ0EBU8SIER. 

Ay> ayf friend ; but that was in witness that he 
flad transferred and made over into the hands 
Of hb General the whole of the Mecklenburgh lands. 

FIRST YAGER. 

What ! wore he his hat and the Emperor by ? 
Confoundedly strange, if true, say I ! 

SERJEANT-MAJOR, f putting his hand in his pocket and producing a coin, J 
If you think that I color the truth overmuch. 
Perhaps youll believe what you see and touch. 
Whose image and title are stamped on this ore ? 

SUTLERESS. 

Shew here : — I protest, there is Wallenstein's face I 

SERJEAMT^MAJOR* 

And pray, let me ask, what would you have more ? 
Is he not as a prince ? Doth he not from his place 
Mint money, as well as King Ferdinand ? 
Has he not, like a prince, his own lieges and land ? 
Is he not styled Serene, and Illustrious, and so forth ? 
And has he not armies to marshal and shew forth ? 

FIRST HARQUEBU88IER. 

In that which you state we all agree ; 
But we are the Emperor's lieges, you see ; 
Who pays us is Emperor, that I maintain. 

TRUMFETER. 

And that I deny, and deny to your face. 
Here nine or ten months have rolled over and we 
Have been dancing attendance for payment in vain : 
Who pays us not stands in our Emperor's place. 

FIRST HARQUEBUSSIER fshoTpbf.J 

Our pay is in pretty good hands, I suppose. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

Peace, gentlemen ! peace! Would you finish with blows ? 

You brangle and wrangle — to ascertain what ? 

If the Kaiser be really Kaiser or not ! 

We owe to the Kaiser profound obedience ; 

But because we would yield him a just allegiance 

We will ne'er troop to battle like herds of cattle. 

We will not, because priests and princes command, 

Be driven out thus from our old Fatherland. 



42 AntJiologia Geitnanka. — No. IX. [J« 

It is best in the end for both vassal and lord 
When the soldier acts of his own accord. 
Who is't but his soldiers alone that have made 
The Kaiser the mighty monarch we see him ? 
Who is it but they that still guarantee him 
His throne as a Christian Prince by their aid? 
His lickspittle sycophants — they who surround 
That throne — they who feast at his gilded board. 
May kneel at his feet — may sprawl on the ground- 
But the soldier bulwarks the State by his sword; 
Though toil is his guerdon on this side the grave. 
Why, then, should he yield up his mind as a slave ? 

SECOND YAGER. 

All ancient potentates, Tyrant and Kaiser,* 

Took care of their soldiers — and those were the wiser. 

*Twas easy to fleece and plunder away 

When the army was kept in regular pay. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

Let the soldier, then, feel his own rank and place ! 
Whose bosom bv self-respect is not fenced 
Will meet and cleserve but contempt and disgrace. 
If I gamble my life I must stake it ags^inst « 
A something as precious, or else I am base 
Enough, like the Croat, to stand and hold 
My throat up to be cut for a scantling of gold. 

BOTH YAGERS. 

Yes ! Honor is dearer than Life ! — nothing's clearer. 

FIRST CIHRASSIER. 

It is one thing to fight, and another to labour : 

You can't make a ploughshare or spade of the sabre. 

It grows you no corn, bids blossom no thorn. 

The soldier is homeless, countryless ; — over 

The earth he must wander, a fugitive rover. 

He has no flocks, no ass and no ox. 

He wearily marches through strange and far lands. 

The city*s luxuriant and luring sheen. 

The festal hamlet, the meadowy green, 

The clustering vines and the harvest garlands 

Are things he can only remotely survey. 

Where, then, is his pleasure, or what can he treasure ? 

His self-respect is his single stay ; 

And he must have something he calls his own, 

Or he slaughters and burns as a savage alone. 

FIRST HARQUEBU881ER. 

*Tis a dolorous life, God knows ! to inherit. 

FIAST CUIRASSIER. 

Not so ! — for myself, at least, I prefer it. 

I have trod the round world from land to land. 

Have noted and proved all modes of ezbtcnce. 

Served under the Spanish Monarchy and 

The Venetian Republic, and lent my assistance 

To the kingdom of Naples ; but Fortune's cup 

Was ever for me distasteful and bitter. 

I have seen Priest, Merchant, Mechanic and Ritter.t 

All ranks from the least to the loftiest op. 

And my iron doublet is still the vest 

That pleases me better than all the rest 

FIRST HARQUEBU881ER. 

I can't say as much for my own, I protest. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

Let those who are chasing some phantom of Life 
Go bustling and fuming through hubbub and strife. 

* Pronounced Kyser, f Knight or Cavalier. 



.1837.] Waileruteins Camp. ^ 43 

Let those who seek titles and ribbons and honors 
Crouch down, if they chuse, at the feet of the donors. 
Let those who would delve on their forefathers' ground 
Till their children and grand-children spring up around. 
Pursue their sequestered labours^ in peace — 
I cannot go partners with any of these ; 
Free will I live and free' will I die, 
Indebted, to none and defrauding none. 
And glancing down from my charger on 
The moiling world with a soldier's eye. 

FIB8T YAGER. 

Bravo ! you speak like a Trojan, my lad ! 

FIAST HARQUEBUSSIER. 

So, then, you think it exceedingly pleasant 
To ride roughshod o'er the wretched peasant ? 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

Comrade ! — the times are hard and sad ; 

The sword is bared and the scales are gone ; 

But let no man say that the warrior therefore 

The gladlier girds his weapon on. 

Though a soldier I can and mill be a man ! 

But this let me add — I will never be one 

To be trod on myself, without first knowing wherefore ! 

FIRST HARQUEBUSSIER. 

And whose is the fault, except our own. 
If we look for subsistence away from the Throne? 
Here are sixteen years of war, hardship and dole, 
And the burgher and peasant must still pay the whole. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

My friend, the good God who rules over Earth's ball, 

Can't equally meet the fancies of all : 

Some clamour for sun ; more wish he were set ; 

This asks for dry weather ; the other wants wet ; 

So, that which seems hardship and suffering to you 

Is to me but Life under a bright point of view. 

If I eat and drink at the burgher's cost, 

I pity the burgher for what he has lost. 

But how can I alter the course of things ? 

It b just as when my charger springs 

O'er the field in his foaming and fiery wrath. 

Come who come may in front of my path — 

Let my brother be there — let me hear the wild. 

The heartwringing shrieks of my only child — 

I cannot rein in my steed — he niust 

Tread down the dear form in the bloody dust. 

FIRST YAGER. 

Poh I when are such accidents ever discussed ? 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

But now, friends, seeing a crisis is come. 

Shall we slink into rat-holes, timid and dumb? 

No ! seize the occasion while yet you may. 

Don't think that War's harvests will last alway. 

Peace will come, and that soon— ere a man can say TS'apitick! 

What then will the soldier's calling avail ? 

We shall all, when the peasant rewields his crabstick, 

Be dragging the devil again by the tail. 

Here are we ui thousands ; why should we be mute ? 

We have now got the ball, for once, at our foot ; 

Let us make one bold simultaneous endeavour, 

Or the breadbasket henceforth hangs higher than ever. 

FIRST YAGER. 

A blue look-out ! But it never shall be 1 
Come, then ! let us all speak up without fear. 

SECOND YAGER. 

Yes, let us confer — ^let ua settU things here. 



44 Anthologia Germaniccu-^No. IX» [Jan. 

FIBBT HARQUEBCJSSIEB (tO the SuUenU^J 

Here, Gossip I how much is your reckoning with me ? 

SUTLERESS. 

O ! tisn't worth speaking about — Well see. 

f They reckon.; 

TRUMPETEB, 

What, then, you fight shv? But we shan't much fret; 
For one tainted sheep infects a whole flock. 

fThe Harquebussiers withdraw, J 

FIRST CCriRASSIER. 

How shabby ! In battle they're firm as a rock. 

FIRST YAGER. 

They're a pitiful, sculking, shirking, set! 

SECOND YAGER. 

Now, then, that they're off, it were well to consult 
How best wc shall plant our grand catapult 

TRUMPETER. 

Our planting plan is to plant ourselves here. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

'Tis by discipline sdll, my friends, we must steer. 

Let every man rejoin his corps. 

And deport himself jnst as he did before. 

That all may perceive and understand 

We are not in the least a mutinous band. 

I'll answer for all the Walloons that they 

Will not be behind where I lead the way. 

SERJEANT-MAJOR. 

Count Tertzky's regiments, foot and horse. 
Will follow the same determined course. 

SECOND CUIRASSIER f taking his place beeide Uie First. J 
Ne'er from the Walloon will the Lombard sever I 

FIRST YAGER. 

The whuop of the Yager is, Freedom for ever! 

SECOND YAGER. 

In Power and with Power doth Freedom alone lie ; 
For Life or for Death I am Wallenstein's only. 

FIRST RIFLEMAN. 

The light-hearted Lothringian* goes with the crowd. 
Where the goblet foams and the laugh is loud. 

FIRST DRAGOON. 

The Irishman follows where Fortune may guide. 

SECOND RIFLEMAN. 

The Tyrolese clings to his lord and hill-side. 

FIRST CUIRASSIER. 

Let the regiments, then, get neatly engrossed 

A respectml memorinl firom every host 

Stating that none will abandon the land. 

That none of the troops will be forced or trepanned 

Into leaving the Friedlander — him who has been 

The soldier's protector in every scene ; 

And a deputation shall wait with this 

On Piccolomini — ^the Younger, t^at is. 

For he knows how to manage all things in that line ; 

He is hand and glove with Wallenstein ; 

And his influence as a discreet adviser 

Is likewise great with the King and Kaiser. 

SECOND YAGER. 

Good ! Thus it shall stand, then! Let all agree 
That Piccolomini our spokesman shall be! 

TRUMPETERS, DRAGOONS, FIRST YAGER, SECOND CUIRASSIER and RIFLEMAN, funa VOCe,) 

Yes, Piccolomini our spokesman shall be ! 

( They are about to go away,) 



* Native of Lorraine. 



1837.] WaUenHein's Camp. 45 

SERJKANT-irAJOB. 

First, Comrades, let's quaff one glass from this place 
To Piccolomini's Noble Grace I 

8UTLE&ES8, f bringing a flagon, J 
No scores for this flagon ! you have it free cost : 
Drink, sirs ; and success to the Friedlander's host ! 

CUIRASSIERS. 

Killing and levelling, strong may they flonrish ! 

BOTH YAGERS. 

Swilling and revelling, long may they nourish ! 

DRAGOONS and RIFLEMEN. 

Long may the army lend lustre to Story ! 

TRUKFETER and SERJEANT-MAJOR. 

Long may the Friedlander lead it to glory I 

SECOND CUIRASSIER, (ting^) 
Up, up, gallant comrades I to horse I to horse I 

It is Freedom and Glory that summon : 
In battle Man feels his masculine force. 

Elsewhere he is weak, he is Woman ! 
In battle no proxy avsdls him — none ; 
He stands for himself, and must struggle alone. 

( The troopers in the hack ground come to ike front of ike stage and join in ike ckorus,) 

CHORUS. 

In battle no proxy avails him — none ; 

He stands for himself, and must struggle alone. 

FIRST DRAGOON. 

Fair Freedom has flown to some worthier zone ; 

Earth cradles but tyrants and tremblers ; 
Craft sits on the throne and Mankind have grown 

A herd of poltroons and dissemblers. 
But he who Death's face can unquailingly scan, 
The soldier, the soldier is still a free man 1 

CHORUS. 

But he who Death's face can un(]^uailingjy scan, 
The solcKer, the soldier is still a tree man ! 

FTRST YAGER. 

Mirth dwells with him all the gay garlanded year ; 

He knows not despondence or sorrow ; 
He tilts against Fortune herself without fear. 

And looks through the Night for the Morrow ; 
Bat waiting tomorrow, still let him today 
Dnun the Brimmer of Time to the lees while he may ! 

CHORUS. 

But, waiting tomorrow, still let him to-day 

Drain the Brimmer of Time to the lees while he may I 

(Tke glasses are refilled^ and ike troopers pledge one another and drink,) 

8ERJEANT.31AJOR. 

In Heaven is woven his victory-wreath ; 

His toil b a vaunt and a pleasure : — 
The serf may dig deep in the clay beneath, 

And dream of unearthing a treasure ; 
In vain ! — he digs on till his Autumn is past- 
He digs till he mgs his own grave at.the last ! 

CHORUS. 

In vain! — he digs on till his Autumn is past — 
He digs till he digs his own grave at the last ! 

FIRST YAGER. 

The guest at the feast whose shadow appals 

Is the rapidly-riding Ritter : 
Unbidden he enters the proud castle-halls. 

Where the pied lamps cluster and glitter. 
He proffers no gold — he sues not in form- 
He WO06 and he wins his bride by storm ! 



46 



Capahilitm of Irelancl. 



[Jaii* 



He proffers no gold — he sues not in form — 
He W009 aud he wins his bride by srorm ! 

Sfe'OOND VAGER. 

Why weeps his beloved ? Why wails she her bt ? 

Ah ! the newly-nedded mun sever! 
On earth is for him no aliitiing' spot; 

He leaves liiT, — an J linjjly for ever! 
His head I on t? destiny drives him afar, 
For the world is agum the Arena of War! 

CHORUS, 

His headlong destiny drives him afar, 
For tlie world is ag:iiin the Arena of War ! 

f The First Yagtr takes the tuyo nearest troopers by the hand ; the othtrs foUow 
his example, and all form a icide semicircles J 

FmST YAGER* 

Then iipi gallant comradrs I — to horse and away! 

The foam of Life's funntaius is flowing^; 
Yoiith bnrns in our veins — shull we shrink from the fray f 

No ! — hence, while the spirit is glowing I 
Reraetnber, if Life be not hazardetl, none 
Can cherish thai bfe as a prize he has won, 

CUOECB. 

Remember, if Life be not hazarded, none 
Can cherish that life as a prize he has won. 

fl^he curtain fails before the chorus has complettli/ ceased. 



THE CAPABILITIES OF tttELAND ; 

BEING A SEQUEL TO THE ATTRACTIONS OF IRELAND. 



Having concluded onrrupid glance at 
Irish scenery und society^ we now pro- 
ceed to ft still more concise view of the 
Capabilities c»f the Ununiry. 

We address ourselves to the ca- 
pitalist and the man of mercantile 
enterprise. Such men require facts 
only, and we shall endeavour to state 
the leading facts that suggest them- 
selves with bosiries?like despatch. 

It is an admitted fact thkit property 
to an enormous amount lies, us mi as 
we arfi concerned, almost dormant in 
the hands of moneyed men in Great 
Britain, who would willina:ly embark it 
in any safe speculation that oifered a 
permLvncnt remunerative interest ui* 
more than the aame property could 
now realixe if vested in the funds. 

To constitute a safe speculation the 
requisites generally looked to are. first, 
a full protection of the rights of pro- 
perty similarly siiuateti with the pro- 
perty to be risked ; und seconiilyj a 
reasonable prospect that if so pro- 
tected, the property risked will realize a 
certain profit. 

On these premises^ we consider onr- 
eelves safe in stating our opinion that 
property embarked in agriculture, in 
manufacturer, in fisheries, in mining 
operations, and in general merciniile 
^ tmdc in Ireland, has, and will continue 



to have, as full [irotection as can be se- 
cured elsewhere in these islands: and 
that capital judiciously invested in any 
of these pursuits in Ireland may be made 
to render a periimnent remunerative 
interest greater than could be realised 
on the same amount in the funds. 

Here at the outset a few words arc 
demanded in explanation of onr views 
with regard to the security of pro- 
perty — particularly of property vested 
in agriculture, in this country^ We 
are far from overlooking the danger to 
be apprehendi^d from VVhiteboyism 
ami predial outriige. We acknow- 
ledge with regret and shame that such 
danger exists to a degree that is both 
formidable ami disgracefuL But, re- 
6ecting that these dangers chiefly befall 
individuals of the lower class, and arise 
from an impression on the part of our 
rural inquisitors that these individimls 
have been unjustly intruded on the 
rights of labour — (for the rights of 
labour are in Ireland synonymous witli 
the rights of subsistence among alt 
below the rank of the farmer) — of 
other humble persons, and that thev 
rarely or never befall the extensive 
purchaser of fee-simple estates or even 
of larffe Jeasehold interests ; and joining 
to this the consideration that it is pal- 
pably the interest of this body of men, 



I 



r 



1837,] 



Capahilitim of Ireland* 



47 



misg-uiclcJ though lliey are^ not to ob- 
struct the oporutian of any change by 
which the rights of labour will be ren- 
dered more s-ecurc ; and recollecting^ 
the tact, that while hagg-ards have been 
burning', and farmers, between the 
malice of the incendiary and the dmg: 
of tlie pauper, have been despairing- 
throughout every quarter of Great 
Britain, almost every successive sale 
of landed property in Ireland has 
brought an additional year's purchase 
in the market — we cannot but consider 
ourselves justified in the coudosion 
that there is ample security for the in- 
vestment of capital in any agrricultuTid 
speculation that does not tend to di- 
minish local employment in Ireland. 
While we remain without poor-laws 
more cannot be expected from us ^ and 
in the meantime we consider thfi 
danger of predial outra^re resulring 
chiefly from the want oi poor laws, as 
no more than a just counterbalance to 
the evils which attend their maladnii- 
mstration on the other side of ihe 
channel. So far of ihe security of 
property invested to agriculture ; as to 
that of capita) embarked in manufac- 
tares or general trade, there cuiiuot be 
a doubt that security exists in Irehiud 
to n much greater degrt^e than in Great 
Britain^ Malicious burnings, destruc* 
tioo of machinery, breaking- of weir«, 
milkiams and stake netsi, dictations 
of operatives, strikes und combination 
outrages in general (matters of daily 
occurrence in Grctit Britain), are here 
comparatively unknown, Wc appeal 
to the press of the two countries for 
confirmation of the fact. With regard 
to mining operations, we recollect no 
instance on this side of the water, since 
the year ir»4lt of iiny malicious de- 
struction of property whatever ; and 
wt; have no doubt thiit the same policy 
which insures the fishing vessel in the 
inhospitable German ocean might be 
effected for a much lower premium on 
Ihe same craft off the well-harboured 
we^t of Irel'iind. 

Dismissing^ the question of security, 
proceed to the more important 
_ lint of remunerative return, aiid (inst, 
with regard to agriculture. 

There are in Grcnt Britain, accord- 
ing to the tables ttiid before the Emi^ 
frratTon Committee of the House of 
Commons in 1827^ by Mr. Cowling, 



34,014,000 acres of cultivated land ; 
to which if we add, for 140 subsequent 
en closure acts, at an average of about 
1 7011 acres per HCt,240,0lMJacie8,we shall 
have a total of 34 »t!54,000 acres of cul- 
tivated land in Great Britain, yielding, 
as appears by an estimate formed from 
the property tax returns of I BIO, im 
agricukund produce of the annual value 
of £150,(HJO,0(J4), 

There are in Ireland, according to 
the estimate of Mr, GrifBth, under 
whom the valualiou of Ireland is now- 
taking place, M,t>(^:^,0(IU acres of cul- 
tivated land, yielding, on the estimate 
<d' the same high authority » an agrieul- 
uoi^l produce of the annual value of 
.t'iia,()OO,()0O. 

Wow, assuming that the arable land 
of Ireland is capahlcj by tillage artd 
culture, of an equal degree of produc- 
tiveness with that of Great Britain, — a 
position which no practical man ac- 
qoainted with our great limestone plain 
will dispute — it appears from the simple 
comparison of extents euliivatcd and 
produce yielded In either country, that, 
before the soil of Ireland attain«^ im 
equality in present productiveness with 
that oV Great Britiuu, the value of 
her produce must increiise from 
±'36,000,(HJO to nearly £G4,U00,(i(H» 
|jer annum — or, in other words, it ap- 
pears that the productive powers of the 
soil of Ireland, as compared with the 
soil of Great Britain, are as i/ct tmrechf 
more than half (levehptd^ and that the 
profits on an increased produce of the 
yearly value of /wnif^-ci^ht mi!lvm\ of 
vitfuei/ are still to be realized in this 
country. 

Such are the res u lis of a simple 
compari^soii of tht^ exttnts cultivated 
and produce yielded. But if we take 
into consideration the extent to which 
produce may still be increased by a 
greater degree of etdtivation than 
Great Britain at present possesses, we 
shall obtain the data of still more 
startling conchisions. The 34,254,000 
acres of cultivated land in Great 
Britain arc tilled by 1,055,982 agricul- 
turil labourers ; the 1 4,<iO?t,IKJ(J acres 
of cultivated laud in Ireland are tilled 
by lJ3t,7t5 agricultural labou re rs.» — 
That is, in other words, '* there are m 
Ireland ahoutjfpeagTiculturul labourers 
for every two that there are for the 
same quantity of land in Great Britain.** 



* This totfiU io ffoth ca«^Sf includei occupiern not vrnphtylnn labaurt^ri. as well a» 
labourer* not occupying,^ — Sre Popuiaiion AhMttaci* for (hrut Britain amf Jrdand 
fuT I8aj. 



48 



Capabilities of Ireland, 



[Jan. 



(See third Report of Cimffiisnoiieri for 
mqvinngiiU&Ae 4ftmtMim i^ the poorer 
daua m IrelamLJ 

Now, if we asfiume the eitreme case, 
that every acre of arable land in Ire- 
land could be made to yield a return 
for the amuuQt of labour that could be 
bestowed upon it, proportionate to the 
present rate yielded by each acre ac- 
cording to its amount of cultivation in 
Great Britain, the question would 
Btand thus ■ — Every acre of arable 
land in Ireland ought to yield a pro- 
duce ^eater than an acre of arable 
land in Great Britain, in the proportion 
of five tu two. But M,254,Qm acres 
of arable land in Great Britaia 
yield a produce of the annual value 
of £150,000.000, therefore^ N,60.^,Oi}0 
acres of arable land in Ireland ou^ht 
to yield a prodnce of the annual value 
of about 

^64,000,000 

X5 =£160,000,000, 

2 
or in other words^ the ajsrricultuTal pro- 
duce of Ireland ought to exceed lliat 
of Great Britain by ten millions a year. 

But this is manifeslly tin overstate- 
ment : first, from the omission of brute 
labour, which forms so material an 
ingredient in the culture of Great 
Britain, where there are perhaps three 
horses for every two that there are for 
the same extent of ground in Ireland, 
and oxen twenty to one ; and secondly, 
from the unwarrantable assumption that 
land is capable of production to any 
eictent in proportion to the amount of 
labour expended on it ; whereas the 
fact seems to be that most of the land 
of Great Britain has already approached 
a point of productiveness beyond 
which no expenditure of labour is 
likely, in the present state ofa^ri cultural 
science, to carry it. Still, that unbmited 
culture, the means of which we may 
be fairly said to possess, is capable of 
making the atjil of Ireland somewhat 
more productive than the averag-e of 
the land in Great Britain, must be 
clear to any one who has travelled in 
botli countries, and observed the still 
alow progress which correct principles 
of farming have made in many of the 
English counties. If all tlie arable 
land of the United Kinsrdom could be 
rendered as productive as ihe average 
of the Lothians in Scotland, our annutd 
produce would amount in Great Britain 
to the value of two hundred and forty 



millions, and in Ireland to the value of 
one hundred millions and upwards—. 
We may, therefore, safely assume that 
the soil of Ireland has only developed 
one half of its productive power, and 
that the profits ou an increased agri- 
cultural produce of the annual value of 
tfiirtt/^j: jnilUon* of money are fttill to 
be realized in the country. 

It now remains to inquire what net 
profit this increased produce ought to 
yield, Tlie 1.170,000* Irish labourers 
who now receive on an average 8JdL 
per day, for 166 days out of the year, 
each, which is at the miserable rate of 
2*. a^f. per week during the whole 
year, must, in the first place have 
their wages niised to 1j. per day each, 
or 6jr. per week all the year round, bo 
that to the ^£6,844^00 now received ad 
agricultural wages by the labourers of 
Ireland, we must add .£1 1,407,.MK) for 
the difference of increased wages and 
full employ raenL Next we will allow 
an increase in the rental equal to the 
proportion of rent now reserved in 
Great Britain, which is estimated at 
somewhat less than two ninths of Uie 
produce, and amounts on our supposed 
increase to a sum of nearly .£8,000,000 i 
and defiucting these two items of iu. 
creased wages and increased rent from 
the gross increase of prodnce, we will 
have a remainder of, say in round 
numbers, £I(),COO,000 per annum to 
meet the interest on capital investeil 
in buildings, etock, and implements. 
The value of the farming stock of 
Ireland at present is, we will sup- 
pose, equal to two years* produce, 
a large estimate ; we will allow ihe 
^mc value for the additional stock 
required, and the interest at 6 per 
ceut. will amount to £3,600,000 per 
annom ; and leave a net balance of 
thirteen mUUonjt n year clear profit on 
ilie increased pr^fdttce which Ireland may 
he made to t/itI(L Here then, we trust 
we have shown t!mt an ample field for 
the profitable employment of capital 
lies open to the moneyed man. It is 
true there are difficulties in the wny ; 
many of these difficulties will soon be 
correctly estimated by the newly in- 
corporated company for the improve- 
ment of waste land^ in Ireland ; and 
from their experience, future specu- 
lators wili better know what IjO avoid, 
and what to seek in the investment of 
their capital. That the company will 
be successful we entertain no uoubt 



I 



I 



laa:.] 



CapahUilies of Ireland* 



49 



Their pTincjjil<? i^ patriotic and their 
design judicioud : I;iiiiJd> as ihey mc re* 
claloied and put in lietirt by tlu'ir ex- 
ertions*, will be ai^dii ofiSereti to tlic 
competition of the publir, who will 
thusderive the same advHntaji:e in the 
iiivenment of capkal in ag^ricukiirt'. a^ 
they do from tije introduction of a 
superior article iu any of the other 
Diarkets. 

IF any reader be sceptical we can 
only repeat, v%o have as good bnd as 
the Britisli ; we cm aHbnl to Till it 
belief ; we ought tbeTt'lDiL' to have at 
l^Hst as gooil it crop. But \\\i hjve nut 
half so go* d M crop in pn>]jortion lo 
our cap.jlnlitie* ; w« therefore look to 
double our anntnd produce ut liusi lie- 
fore we rest satlahed. How the iiu- 
proveineut is to take place is another 
«nbject of irnjjortuat speculation* In 
the Hrst placcj any one iouliin;*' at the 
face of llie country must ^ee that itn- 
fDcnjie quantities of arable lajrd lie 
111! productive in the inioks and corners 
of our misshapen cucbnores ; iliat 
the soil lost in rairged head-ridg^es, 
gripes, and bohtrt'Ciu is very con^iider- 
able ; that thonsauds of aen s of wet 
and rtishy bottoms mij^ht easily be 
made productive meadow land; and that 
almost nnivcr>sLilly a vast iniprovemcot 
has siill to take |>lacc in all onr iniple- 
merita of husbandry. Next, the intel- 
ligent observer rnoiitbc struck \utb the 
ivantuf proper roads For the tnms.port 
of manure arid produce, but [mrticu- 



ready to be put in ojjeratlon — the 
i|UCiiUOTj of the most profitable rotation 
of crops, and the beu-t dcHcription of 
seeds, will still remain to exercise the 
ingcDulty of the farmer.* We have 
now surely made out a sufficient case 
of improvements to be looked for, to 
justify onr speculation on the possibility 
of obtaining an additional produce 
from the aralde land oF the island ; «nd 
will next proceed to consiilcr bow far 
the bog knds of Irehind Invite the at- 
tention of the caf italist. 

The waste buds of Ireland are esti- 
mated by Mr. Gridkb !it 5,:J40J;16 
ucresf : of these it is estimated by the 
commissioners For rcpfirtiu^ nn the 
boj>s of Ireland, that i>»H3D,0t)0 acres 
arc bog» either flat or mountain, and 
all rcclaimable at a g^realer or a less 
expense. Iu estimating the expense 
of these rcclanratlons, the engimnrs 
employed by the coinmissl oners took 
into account the cKpeiise only of the 
tuaiii drainti^'es wViich vvonld be re- 
quired to make the hind tit to receive 
Its lir^t crop of potatoes, and these ex- 
penses they estimated at under £2 per 
acre in all cases, and al so Imu as 
£1 \i}s, per acre iu many cases* But 
however intelligent this scientific class 
of men mi^ht l>e, U is now certain that 
they consideraldy underrated the ex- 
pense which must be incurred before 
bo^^ lauds cEin be rendered fit For the 
rece|)tiou of any crop* It is true tliat 
the experimentid improvements which 



Uriy with the inaccessible condltiou oF have since taken place, and which seen 

.* _'^ I- _f _„i i_ i:_ . _ . ^__ _^ .1^ - I .ii_- .. ._ I' ^ ^i _ • 



Uionsan<U of noble limcstfvne f|uarries, 
wfiieh only wult a practicable avenue 
tliroug-h which to pour fertility over 
whole parishes and baronies* Then, 
when our Fences are reduced to con- 
irenient forms — when all the available 
nurfdce of the laud is ehiared and 
drained, and made acceis>ilde — when 
iiur mines of manure are opeued up, 
aud alt our mechanical aids of labour 



so decidedly to contratUct these ori- 
ginal estimates, hnve lieen conducted 
on a scale not sufheiently extensive to 
give Full fair play to the ca[utal em- 
barked : still where we find Mr, Fe- 
therstone, whose operations are con- 
dueled on a considerable scale ami in 
the best manner* u liable to reclaim bttg 
lands under an expense of ,C8 per 
ucrc4; and Lord Paliucrston expending 



• *♦ If frelaml leceived §43 e J from Pomerania* Silet^ia, and Pohmd, thf* value of her 
ai^rieuhural proilucts would be increah^^d many milhuos auuunlly,'* — Rcpoft an ilm 
Statr tff Aifncf^UurCt l83(i ; sMr. Sutttitftrs' Etyidnut, 

f The WiiHtis holds of Great Britain amount 1<» no less than 22,o7f>,3*jn acres, nn 
ext«*itt (jnuilt-r than the whole aupcrrtdes of IrelanX^^Vc Poor Imjuiit/^ hdand^ 
ApptndU, //* Pnrt I. T>tbk, No, 2, 

\ Some of them^ improvements are thus described hy Mr, Griffith ; — " !n the 
uritfhhourhood of Kdhiiao, in the county ot WestmesUh, Mr* Ftitheritone i:^ now im- 
nrnvinjf M Innfe tn*et <*t bo^, nppitri'ntly with great succc&s He ba* imported wrouLdit- 
iron ruiU, nulroadi vva^'t^-ons, and Jill the variety oF draiuinir t<H>ls that Uavt* bi'en used 
9it CImt "»o**s, near Manchester, which moss is exactly similar to our flat hfjps. Mr, 
Murpliv i* also mukiritr improvement » ou a portion nf the great Bog of Allen, in the 
county of KilJare. Both the?e gentlemen have followed the system of dcjiining 
atlopted at Ghatmosa. Tbcy plough the surFacc by homes having square wooden paU 
VoL. IX. B 



^ 



CapubilUies of Ire/and* 



[Jam 



tB much as £25 pa* acre on bo^ -londb 
.on his estate, (RrpoH on the ttale oj 
Agriculture, iHStI, Mr, CInrkes evi- 
dence^) we CHiiiot Pee Ti'a-«nii to expect 
that any amfitiiit of ca|>ital orexientof 
ojier^itiDDs would eniible us to reclaim 
pur bog-^ at so luw a rate its was hoped 
tuf at tlie lime of tlie ori;^iniil eftti- 
niiites. It IS, huwe%er, in evidence be- 
r<>re tlie eomtnittee of the ILmse of 
Ci>mifion> appointed to bitniire into 
tlie coiiditioii ol' the Irish poor in lSiJt>» 
Uiat bog land \n the count)' of Slitrf» 
hiia been reclaiiiu'd unii rendered worth 
a rent of -30*. per acre per aiiniini* ut 
an expeii'ie of abont £1 an aere ; or^ 
If retained in the hands oF the pro- 
pnetor, that it woiibl repay all ejtpenf^es 
iiy three ycar^^' prothice, leavhig all sub- 
si'ipicnt returns clear grain, [Htpurt 
of Commitft'i,) Let us, h>*wcver* say 
.£l(.> an acre for pnrchase and improve- 
ments, and U" the boid be made worth 
iMh, an acre yearly rent by the ex- 
pcndiUirei it is clear that a la r^e profit 
13 still to be realized on even our wastes 
and btigs. That the improvement of 
land already arable \^ tlie better spe- 
culation al present, wc believe there is 
no doubU Mr, Griffitliand Mr, Weale 
Cimcnr in the «tpinion that tlic same 
eapitjd and ?kib ruij^ht Ik' apjilied to the 
' old enclosurL'S and tlie hilly irromid 
with a mneh greater certainty of proHt 
to the projtrietors, nod of eommen- 
Siiratt! wdvanUige to the tenantry than 
it expended on a speculative pnyect of 
Ti'daifn'Tni^ boo^^, {See Puptn un the 
K:cperiiurnfn} ItuprovcmcjUs at King 
Wyrmnin'towiu IH.S4.) 

We iio>v proeectl lo state the case 
of uiumjr.ictorcM, tmd have no doubt 
tlut wc slndl be able to show Rnffiileot 
liaduceuient to men of capital to 
eniitle u^ to I heir must serious atten- 
tion. 

The subjects of mnijit Interest to the 
miuudaetorer, whom \ie will sn[)po!ae 
^■eure of a T«arkct, are I'ower, Hands, 
and liiiw M^iterial, the Ui.*t involving 
facilUy of aeeesji* Power we possess 
from two »<^urte8, water and fueL Our 
water power has never be^n cs^leu- 
btted : it is in Iviet so {j^reat us abnust 
to defy Cideulatiiui. There is no 
i'ounlry iit the worhl where water- 
pHtwer-i and nuvig^ablc levels are so 



combined in almost anr river that 
traverses it. Tnc rivers of Engluml 
and Lowland S<!otliir)d are slow ami 
navigable, but it is a iictitious powcf 
that turns the machinery upon theif 
banks ; the rivers of Hig'bland Scot* 
I mid are unnavig^able torrents, [yo^af^- 
iu^ immense water power it is true, bat 
wastinir it in the midst of sterility. — 
The eliief rivers of Irebnd, oil the 
other hand I as they tlow tlirtni«^h a rieli 
corn -bearing counlry, atb>rd by tlieii 
gradual ilescent a proh»n]tjed surct*^ion 
of Wkjter-power^i to jj;^riiid the grain that 
throws npon their banks, or to turn Ifi 
various mamiiacliires the raw material 
that iheir navig^ablc h'vels float upwards 
from the sea. The Suir, while it cott- 
verls to flour the produce of the rich 
plains of Tippcrary, brini»« np the 
cotton which it torns to thread \n iIkt 
spiiining-mills opon its banks, and aflefv 
wards bears down bt>th mannraeturi*d 
articles to iio eKp<trted to Liverpool 
or London, from the quay t»f Water- 
fijrd. It needs but a Utile further invest* 
incut of capital, and the siime mi^ht be 
said of the Barrow, the Boyiie, the 
Blackwaler^ the Slaney, the Suck, the 
Bami» the Maij:r. the Fergus, the Lee, 
and the Litley^all more or lesg niivi- 
gable,tinii all abounding' in watcrpower* 
But what shall we say of the Shannon, 
navig-uble from source to mouili. a dis- 
tance of -240 miles, and possessing one 
concentrated waterjjower at C?a9tle- 
counrll, able to drive more thuti four 
timt^ all tlic tiuichinery n<iw wnrkcd Ifv 
all the steam-enjjiiies of GhiSigoiR^ ? 
And we have but tiMiehtnl upon river 
power ; every fetder of every river 
Ciitimeruted, every oiioor river and 
each of its feeders U c<jnal to bor*e 
powers nnnumlieri'd. Nor have we 
yet em tin era ted tb^* water]n>w*TS of 
our lakes. The surplus water> of LoHi 
Erne alone won hi drive h^ilf the mill- 
wheels in ll|>len Loch Conn pours 
throutrh the ftloy a v\aierpower em!4l 
to all th*' stcum-eugines of Bel- 
fast, Lorh Corrib, Loeti iSLibW, aatt 
Loch Carra, may be looked on as one 
great mill-dam, coverinif G4,0<I0 acrt?* 
of ground — the whole waters of which 
descend from 64 to 1 I feet to the gem 
at Gaiway, Loch Peltra is another 
natural mill-diim, IQOO acres in cxt€ttl» 



tuns attarlied to x\\v\t hoofs* j an<l firienii'ard& by means of the railroad and wag^ont, 
cover tho hnp, to the drpih of four ioeh^<i. with clayey lime^toafi gravel. In th«»«» ex- 
periments great attetMupu i(< jiitiij to econiitiiy; aad I expect in the course of a ycnr 
or two, we «hnll be eiiaUlerl todot^umiuf^ with ecrtainty «* t»» the uilvantupf* of «p»'cu- 
Wbg1i*r^'f1y in tLa recLimation of bous in ihiiconnir/," — Srpwirrtentul Imprwtmgii 



1837.] 



Capability of Ireland. 



51 



with a catch -water Imsiii of tlO Fquiire 
miies, aad a fall of 441 feet into Cli'w 
Bay at Ne^vporL Loch Iiui, and 
tiie Lochs of iJulliivahinch send their 
ttntteU WAteis iiitotlie bay ui' Hriierbuy, 
M'itb lli€ force <»r iliou-amls nf hrirsc 
powers. The lakes of Wi fiimoj^ilh pour 
a slower 6treum, but a groAler body of 
water, and perhafxa mi cqind power 
through the luny to the SliHnurirj. The 
dischiirge of Lcicli TtToi^, Lucti 
Graiiey, and Loeh O'Grady, all sealed 
hifrh io the Slieve BtiULfhta mouiituiiH 
-i— is an unestiinited force that daily 
miia to wa^te in ihe bay oi" Scat it!'. 
The gverflow of the Lukes of Killamey 
eries out for oceupaiion froio nil tiie 
rocks tbut line the ehuunel of the 
Laune, while frdiii tlie remoter re- 
eewe# of Iverd^b and Duiikerron, 
streams pmirintr Irom mouiitaifi lochs^ 
ynnuiubered clamour for wheels to 
drive a* they dtscerid! unnoticed to the 
sea. The enumeration is iiuC biilf 
complete : the lakes of Donerral, of 
Leitrim, of Slig'o, and Roscommon — 
oauonal treasures in miy les^ fUvoured 
land — are filiil behind. But space 
eouipeli U5» and the fear that we liave 
already dwelt tno lon^*- on a subject 
which oug-ht to be known to every 
man acquainted with the commonest 
map of ihe country, reconciles u>* to 
leare this section i^-ilhoui f«iithcr illus* 
iratton. 

With respect to fuel or steam power 
we ar« not so rich ; siiU we c^n show 
anfficieateau^e for the prevalence of the 
iBiprefsion that we are, so far as fuel is 
eoacerned, decidedly poor, as well as for 
a cheering expectation that proper mea- 
sures can at any time develop very great 
bcjil resources in this essential material 
of national wealth, The coal fields of 
Ireland dilfer from those of CJreat 
Britain in qijality aitd in situation. 
Tlic fuel produced in Hritaiu h bri^'ht 
coal — 'that raised in Ireland is in great 
^rt anthracite or blind coal ; the hiaili^ 
fi#^ In which the coal measures He in 
Gr<»at Briirtin are chiefly on thesea-eoiisit 
— hut in Irelandtheyare,«ithtlie?ingle 
exception of the Ballycastle colliery, 
all inland. Here, then, are two great 
i<ldtJC«'meit(s to proseenle the working; 
of cnal.mines in Great Britain in pre- 
firrcficc to those on this ?ide of the 
chaonel^ — general superiority of pnw 
^iice for tliH dofueptie ii^es of blCt and 
fuciliiy «f transport. But this superi- 
ority in rpjutily extends tio farther tlmn 
the domestic u-^ei of furl. in the 
ffimeratiou of sienin, bburl coal is &n 
- equally. erticienl agrni ; and insmeUincr 



ou«i kilo-dry tiig it is mueb superior. 
Why then have the ^tf^^^t beds of blind 
coal with which Ireland almunda not 
been worked to » g^reater exti^nt V The 
answer i^ plain — because they are, 
cornjiaralively sfn"akinir» inaccessible. 
The Lcinater district, which is in point 
of present access much the mo-*t favour- 
i?d, lies at a di«lance of sixtv miles from 
the cdfiital on one side, aiul U separated 
from the soul hern inarkit by a lofty 
raiige of niountdins on tlie other : the 
district, it is true, abnt^ pretty nearly 
on the Barrow ; but hitherto no profit- 
able wr»rkini^s liave bren obtained near 
enough to that navi^'-ation to make the 
water transit uvailable for the pro- 
duce ; for as to cotjstructinj^ a ri4ilway 
from the month *d' the river to tint 
nearest meana of rarriaire, that is an 
undcrtakinjT altogether out of the 
sphere of Irish ^peeiilation. Thf seams 
of cotilj besides, lie d*»ep. and what 
with the expense of workin;::, and the 
length of ovciland earri^ge on carts, it 
is no wonder th at expecttititms of national 
benefit from the Ca^tleeomer ami Kille- 
naute coal coufitry have hitherto been 
anything- but san;^uine \^-ith the public* 
The Monster district a^ain lies in the 
very haart of the country described as 
so imicccssible in a former p'trtion of 
this paper : the B lack water, which runs 
lhrou|rh part of it, is not tfiere navi- 
p-uble ; and to c^rry the eo.il across the 
Bogigra mountains to Cork, ov over the 
range of Slieveujieli to Tralce, or 
throuifh the wilds of Newmarket to 
Limerick, would be a work so expen- 
sive as to cut up all rennineration. The 
remaining portions of the district lying 
chiefly in Clare, are even more out of 
the way. h cosU 12s. bd. per ton 
to convey goods overhind from Ennis 
to Limerick : the expense would be 
nearly doubled in transportinj^ coal 
from the remoter districts of Mi)vferta 
and Btirrin^ — the ill success of the 
Monster collieries is therefore not to be 
wondered at. We have suid thut the 
coal of Ireland is in great part of the 
blind quality. All the coal south of 
a line drawn from Dublin to Gal way 
is of this description ; the coal north 
of the ?»itmc line is chiefiy l>itinninou^, 
and the ipiality is gencnilly rd' a 
UHTdium between the rpiick blazing 
coal of Seotlarkd, and the caking coal 
of Whitehaven. ♦* On the whole,'* 
ttays Mr. Unflith, " a very good coal 
lor culiniiry and mnfmfactiiring juir- 
pose^." — Jirporl on Surrctf and Vaitin^ 

The chief dopojfit of this coal, which 



m 



Capahilities of Irdand, 



is a(^saciatc4 wkli most valuable beds 
nl' iron-sldiip, ri el irr in equality than that 
(»f Sliro^jsliire ksdf^ tirs in ilie vtdtiity 
of Ldcii Allen, alMJiit the source* of 
llro Sliaiiiioii, ill I lit! coiintiifsof Leitrim, 
t^H'JT'N iiii'l K'j^coiijuion, and extends 
iiorttiM'Hrd itMil eusL^Viird into Cavati. 
HtTii it h rsliin jtod tUere utc iii out' 
strutaiu thirty iniUions ol'ton^ of good 
coal, eu|iulj|e of being raised jkt an ex- 
ppnse vvblcli ^vnald enable the pro- 
p fie tor to sull i lit in witli timple profit 
at the ral« of 5-*. j>er ton at the pit 
mouth. An eqinil tjuuutity, but ol a 
f^Uiility less iJ^ood, IIl-s in the i^triiluin 
belovv% l)ut tht^se would neither reiilize 
the same price, nor be raised so 
cheaply. Now, here attain, the reason 
of failure iu former workintjrs, as of 
present lukewarmncss in cominencia^ 
«ew operations, is the same — ditiiciilty 
of access and iraiisporL To convey a 
ton oi' coals from Loch Allen to Dublin 
usod to cost ]2^. — thi^ was [»nor to the 
lime of ojieuiuLC the Shijumin naviga- 
tion ; it i?* therefore not gurpri5ii»£»^ thut 
the enterprise did nnt ga on at that 
time. The navi^'atioa is now opened, 
but is sliti incomplete, aud even at this 
day tlie earriai^e of L^oods from Loch 
Allen to the capital would be attended 
with a very be ivy exjuuBe, Mean- 
while the district biu no other outlet, 
aud the tlnmt) on public specula t ion, 
mrisin.: from the failure af the old 
ArijjfiLi irou works — a failure chielJy 
utlribntable to niismLini^iifcuieiit and 
want of title— still eoutituies to con- 
nect the very nuiiiies of Ari;jna and 
^Locb Allen with ideas of loss aud 
faibire. 

80 far wc have, we think, shown 
good i^rtunuU for our opinion that the 
imjiTfSsi.jn wliieh set^ us dowu u.^ de- 
iieicnt in fuel h lall leiou^ ; we tjow 
priH!<^*<l to state our reason for looking 
forwariS to betti^r tiaies. Whatever 
juaiii irutih of riiilroad uuy he laid down 
towartU the south, must pa.*s throuy:li 
the L^iu^ter cmd tlistriet. A line of 
railroad is, It i^i trm% a more expensive 
uneaus of t«an>it tlian (he tiiTuian Sea, 
or the Irish ChLUiu*d ; >UlU wherever 
•the Iraib^ of a railroiid exists, there 
will be a deiihiud fur the best apeciesi 
itf fuel, not tmly for the ^eoerailou of 
^teain, but for the ^ap[»ly of tlie local 
couilorts attending nn the improved 

Ciindition of the e« try; so tbat^ 

whether the eost E»f transport permit 
<he supply of Kilkenny coul to the 
capital or not, there is, at least, the 
certainty of a considerable iucrease of 
Jueai consumption ; detuaiid will ccr* 



taioly increase facility of pmduceip 
with a better system of operatu 

eheaper article must eventuall;^ 

brouerht to market. Thus we have tm^ 
donbt thiit the formuticm of the firftt moiiv^ 
trunk of a southern railway vnU itn- 
mediatcly briuj^ the Leinster coal 
country into extensive and profitable 
occupation, and that manufacturers oT*^ 
the midland district will have 110 dif&* 
culty in procuring fuel at as cheap a 
rate as ihtil commodity is now sirf>- 
plied to some of the man ufaetu ring 
counties of England. The question of 
the extension of such a trunk to Valrn- 
tia or to Beerhavcii is iu like rnaii- 
tier tht: tinestion of idleness or occapa* 
lion for the ccdlieries of MniiBter. Go 
as it will, such an extension aiust cross 
the tlistrict somewhere between Mdllow 
aud Abbeyfeale, and wherever it pene- 
trates it, the ott'ects arc certain io a 
greater or a less degree of imniediatc 
jjroHtable occupation. That such w*orka 
will in all probability be executed, and 
tliat such effects will ere lon|r follow, 
we firndy believe ; but whether the 
Leinster and Monster coal-Helds are Ui 
be so henelitted in our time or not, 1%. 
is certain that one work of the utaio«^l 
importance to the Loch Allen distnct 
is at present in progress of completion* 
we mean the Ulster canal, which will 
open up the whole of the south of 
Ulster, from Coalisland and Duiigan> 
non ou the east, to Belturbet and the 
skirts of the more immediate district of 
Lneh Allen at Swanlinbar on the west« 
and give another outlet beside the 
Shannon to all that now inaccessible 
country between Loch Allen and Locli 
Erne, Finally, with regard to the 
qaaotity of eo.d capable of being" raised 
in Ireland, we believe that although the 
Buperticial extent ofour coal-fields equal* 
til at of the coid-fiehU vf Gre^t Britaio*., 
the good coal eoiitaiueil in our beds doetj 
not amount to one fiftieth part of tlial 
contained in the British. OnC' fiftieth 
pari of a supply which is ealcnlated to 
be equal to the consnmptioa of ut least 
a thousand years, is, however, a saf- 
fieient quantity to be worth the con* 
siderution td" speculators either iu the 
ariielc itself, or «)U the effects of Us sup- 
ply tipvm trade in i^'eiieraL 

But even thtmgh coal were a f trod action 
unknown bi the ccuintry, we would still 
have an amount of mf^ehanieal power 
from water and other sources so great as 
to entitle Its to the most serious alien- 
lion of the manufacturer. The priu- 
cipal source to which we refer, besides 
that*of water, is bog turf, u «peciei 



!8370 



CapahilkU& of Ireland* 



53 



did of which the supply maybe said to 
be inexhaustible, and of which lb 13 iii^et^ 
are only beginning to be knowiL Turf 
fycl is MOW L*mplt)yt*d under the engines 
of the Inland Navigation Cuinpittiy's 
tteam-boata upon the Shannon, and is 
fbund to generate steam as poweriVdly 
as coal, und at a ninch i"Iie,i[>er raic* 
The supply, we have said» nitiy hi? 
called ini^xhanstihlc -, and when we 
consider that a cubic yar<l of bog fur- 
niflhes, with a liberal allowanee lor 
wtisie, the material of at least a him* 
dred tuH", each eighteen inchi*s long 
by four on the siile, ])revious to dry- 
ing ; that fouf hundred of these ttirf 
eoustttute a large kish, which i^ ei]uu.[ 
to at least three bags of coal ; antl that 
there are in Ireland 2^800.000 acres of 
bf>g, of an avera^re depth of three yards, 
that is forty bil!iuns of cubic yards of 
bo2r and upwards^f or belter than ten 
bilTiotis ot kishcs of turf, e<^ual 10 two 
billions and a half of tons of eoal 
tiearlv, that is, more than one hundred 
and hlly years* consumption of fuel for 
the united kingtlom^ nt the r^ite of 
fifteen milUotis of tons of coal 
per year — the assertion will not, we 
think, appear extravagant. In esti- 
mating our bogs at an average dcpih 
of nine feet, let it he remeinljered tn it 
many parts of the great bogs of Mayo, 
Gjdway, and the district of the Hog <jf 
Allen, are thirty and forty feet in 
depth, and that thy deeper the bog the 
more compact, bituminous, and iu» 
fl«mntable is the turf. It i^ true^ br>g- 
tarf is at present an expensive and un- 
satisfactor}'' species of fuel, but if 
private individuals quarried their own 



eooPp as iliey now ent wnd prepsire their 
awn tiirf, ine eon-^etiiteneej* would l)e 
tlic stime with n^gartl in ruiil aho. The 
time, we have no dotilit, is coininjr 
when the preputjition of turf bh'l will 
be conduct I'd on a h*rg*r scale, 11 hd with 
vastly iocreiised otHcicney ; atid ih<? 
rcmovul of tlie lurf is the most cfrec- 
tive slep to liit" recIauMtinn of tite soil 
hel<iw, so that slioitid turf fnel iit any 
time coine to be extensively usi^d in 
this country, the cooset|ueiices won til 
he equally siilisfuetory to the iiianu- 
fueturer and the agriculturist. 

Thiia far of power^ — the main object 
of the nianuractiirci*s search. As to 
hands, a s^hort slatetnent shall sulHce, 
There arc in the country about three 
niiilion eight hundred tboit^and adiilt< 
of both sexes : of thesse, n|i wards of 
two nnllioiiij and 41 h.^lf ure ready for 
any honest employ uient that will pay 
them on an average better than their 
prcHcnt pittance t>r 2s. per week, men 
and women, all the year round* Tho 
necessities of agrieulture cannot at any 
time retjoire more than eight hundred 
thuusand male, amJ two hundred thou- 
sand female lichitts in full employment : 
al! the remainder are at the inannlae- 
turcr*9 service. They will need in- 
struction, It is trite, hut the clilieTenee 
of cheap wages wot ltd well compensate 
fttr the expense of bringing over British 
foremen. 

Power and liunds, then* arc abun- 
dant ; and so fiir as the mere import of 
the raw^ materJal goes, we are furoislied 
with every possible facility. To eon- 
vey the raw materiid from the sea-port 
to the inland facto rj% or, where the 



• " I hare In my oviJence nlrcaJy given to the Committer© on Public Works for 
Irelftndi the fact of tho Lady Dmually steam-hont, ou the Shannon, ^'omg 3<} mili?« 
p«!r diiy, consumihigr 30 boxes of Inrf fu<*l, at 4tl, per box, which is at the nito of 4d. 
per mile for pnj^H.*ilin^ tho vessel The steam cojupaay of tlie Shrtunon river tle^ 
nervu the highest prai&o for the applieation of lurf liiul, the pfodw tion of the country, 
tn pr^fprence to that of coal, for working tho ^tonm engine; and although thu appli. 
mlioti of turf fuel in working a steam-engini* he not in thb cfis« new, yet it h very inu 
jiortant to Irtsland to seu it practically iipp!i«tl to so useful a parposfe^ — liecHuse it 1^ lo 
\ hcipud thnt nil thu engiDes on board the st«>um-bout9 navigating the hikei^ and 
HH of trvlMnJ, will bis worked by turf fin.*l ahnte, which will givi- iimptL* enipluy- 
it to the liibouniijyf puptdation, and be the means of dmitiiug ami impmvin^ the 
^xl^osive boifs which lie adjacent to thes^e hike niul river unvinRtions/'—Et'itlcme vf 
Mn Haiti hrfom the Co$tuniii€e apjtoinietl tit report on tht Cvnnuutfttt lakes. t!f)^A 

•f We mii^t here correct an important mi^^take, most likely of the [u-i titer, in an 
eatiniiile given tn^tore the Stleet t'omonUifO uf Survey aad V'idnatioa of Irehimlia 
18*24. It 1$ stilled (bee pagi* 04 of Aliimlea oi' Eviduuee) that ** Irehmd ei^n tains 
between Hut bog and inouutaitj l>o<^% tlocij oalliuiia uf ucret^ ; and if the mean de|nh \m 
inkeo at ihrev yurdii, iherii will be io Iri-'laod 7*(}>j«j/J47;)<tnt1 <jubir yard» ul I.K»g i>od. " 
lu^lend of 7 A"Ki,247,3bO. the amuuut u\ uubic v-nds on thr diUii ii?aymtd tshuuld be 



Caftoltitities of Irelaitd* 



[Ja 



maleria) is the growth of the country, 
lu transport the muniilactored uriitle 
from the fuctory to thy seaport with 
equal advaiitaife, will, we ailinit, re- 
quire a mutli hciUT systi^iu of coin- 
luutiicatioiij either hy extended iidaml 
iiavitjalioii^ nr by mlmads. StilJ there 
U a great o|ieii tor the iuveatment of 
eipitul in those mLnudkctures, which 
encoiini^e the hjcal production of iheir 
•iwn material — we alloHe particularly 
to the flax-Fipiiitiiu^ tind eoro^milling^ 
trades in whieli cipitul well applied is 
invariably Ibnnd to cruute a market at 
llie mdlnJoor, Thus au increased 
growth t>t' flax, to an iuiniense exteiit. 
litis followed the investment of cajiital 
in linen-spinning' niilla in Ulster ; and 
the erection of the fl^nir and corn mills 
on the Suir and Barrow within the 
last fifty years, has increased the grain 
protluce of the adjueent distrieU to an 
extent that will apjieur scarce credible. 
We wiM couHnn our views in the latter 
inslHTiee by quotin;i: an account of all 
the ^iHiT sent into Dublin from the 
milU of the eounty Carhjw, in the 
year 1 785, now hfty years since ; ex- 
true ted from returns printed in the 
jonrnals of tlie Irish Hotise of (Joni- 
mons, vol. xii. ; and will add a eoin- 
jiarative statement of ihe quantity of 
jfruin ground in the same county within 
the last year, on ihe atiihority of a 
leadintr mercantile hoii^e in Dublin. 
It 18 to be borne in mind that in 1 18^ 
Dublin was the only ehatnn!l of export 
from this counry. 

Cuds Qj Jhnr #*?«/ ta Du/titn by laiui ctirfiagtr and 
catuti^ far the ^ttr 178i-^, fwm thtf County uf 
Cbrtam, 



Main, 

Bridewell MilU. 
Cflflaw MilU, 
C4irluw MiUa, 
Clmitgmny Milk. 
La<)B«ftlUto, . , . 

Adiffor lioiiie confumptlcm, 



9QG6 

Cwii uf Jtuut ftm/tu/acittreit in the iHiit* qf the 
CiiMHtsf qf C'ortowt/or M*' year Ilti5— (i. 

Mr.Cbrkt?, IlurriM Mill*), . r><)(in 

- — --— , Ballvellan Milh, i;yi,H, 

Mr. Jnht] |{;iii|ir|]|oii, Barrow MilN, l^,7mji 

Mc»rsJ.&'VV\ Haugbtou, I^'vcUtrnvh Mills* Hv^) 

_ - ^- ■ t faihganny MjIL«» It.mt 

Menn Croiithwalte, Ukige Mills, . ui (iu> 

MeaCTt Alexwidtr, MUtord Milk, , \ i^s'tXXJ 
Mr. Handy, Bettyuumiit Mllki . . Vtju^Ki 



I 



1 

I 



iSS^XJri 



From this statetnent it would appear 
that, til king the export of raw grain as 
e(|uul in each year, (although it is cer- 
tuin that it also has greatly increased.) 
the (quantity of corn grown in this 
eounty is now seven times as great as 
it was fifty years ago, when Carlow bail 
ihe name of being one of the most 
agricultural counties in IreUod -, and 
this change upon the face of the coou- 
try ha^ been unquestionably produced 
by iho demand* of an increased capital 
vested in mill powers on the Barrow. 
One illustration of the creation of a 
supply in the district of the Suir, h 
perha])S still more striking. About 
eighty years since, Mr» Samuel 
Grnbb of U I on me I proposed to erect 
a liour mill. There Wds already 
a small mill in Clonmel, which 
did the grinding of the neighbour- 
hood ; und tlie jiroprietor, looking- 
on competition in so limited a trade 
us certain ruiu both to himself and his 
rival, expostulated sicrioualy with Mr* 
Grnbb on the tujiposed unreasonable* 
ness t>f such a project. Both gentle- 
men beinp:, we believe, members of the 
Society of Friends, the matter, ridicu- 
lous as it tnkiy appear, was left to ar* 
bitration, when it was determined that 
Mr* Gruhb Imd the right to invest his 
money in the scheme if he thought fit j 
at the same time, the speculation wai 
pronounced as extremely dangeronSi 
from the fact that the vicinity of 
C Ion roe! was at that time any tnitig 
but » corn-growing eouittry, and that 
ill fact Mr. Cirubb hiid no chance of 
getting grist for his mi It Mr, Grubb, 
how ever* persevered, and built his mill ; 
Imtl always ready money at his door — 
never sent any but a prime article to 
murket— and the consequences are, that 
his grandson, Mr. Richard Grubb, now 
grinds annually 40,000 barrels of _ 
wheat at Cloghcen, and us much more ■ 
at Cahir ; Mr. Samuel Grubb, another 9 
grandson, grinds also 40,000 barrels in 
Clogheen ; and Mr, Robert Gndib, a 
third, from ld,0(liKo "J0.000in Clonmel; 
and to supply these splendid establish* 
ments, a district xvhich 80 years since 
produced little more than 50t>0 barrels * 
of wheat in the year, now* waves with 
annual harvests* of white wheat for 
miles, and tceras with a well -occupied j 
and happy pettsantry. We eould quote i 
numberless instancc-s of the same kind ' 
in thisj as well as other branches of 1 



1837.] 



CapabiHlies of Ireland. 



55, 



trade. Mr. Daykl Malcomson of Clon- 
iiicl would furnish an exain[)le of the 
|K>wer of capital and industry in train- 
ing an a&^ricultural population to the 
successful pursuit of factory labour, 
Tlic Messrs. MulhoIIand might be cited 
a« the revivers of the yarn-spinniiii"^ 
trade, which now occupies perhaps a 
fourth part of the capital of Belfast* 
and owes its present prosperity mainly 
to their spirited example. Mr. Henry 
of hland-bridge is a proof of what 
taste and enterprise can effect in mak- 
iw^ the labours of Irish artizans rival 
tlie most beautiful productions of the 
' looms of France and England. Mr. 
Bianeoni might be referred to as an 
example of perseverance rewarded in 
the success of such an establishment 
as, perhaps, cannot be equalled in the 
annals of posting. But why multiply 
examples Y The voice of experience 
unequivocally proclaims the tact, that 
the man of integrity and business-like 
habits has an open for successful exer- 
tion in every quarter of the country, in 
ajiy bona fide mercantile pursuit. 

From the manufacturer we turn to 
the capitalist, who vests his money in 
mining operations. The mines of Ire- 
land have hitherto been worked to a 
very small extent ; yet that working, 
limited as it is, has been, until lately, 
much more extensive than the capital 
embarked could justify. The work at- 
tempted, and the means by which it is 
to be done, are now much more nearly 
balanced, and the consequence is,amost 
iiourishing condition of affaire. We 
refer with pleasure to their last report, 
by which it appears that the lead and 
copper of our Wicklow mountains 
compete successfully with the richest 
ores of Anglesea and Cornwall in the 
English market. There is ample room 
for com|)etition : in fact the chief 
drawback on the early success of the 
present company, arose from the mul- 
tiplicity of mines among which they 
had to choose. We trust the time is 
coming when the capitalist will no 
longer have this complaint to make of 
the rich veins of iron, copper, lead, 
and mangene:ie, which now solicit his 
attention in so many neglected corners 
of the country, or excite his pity going 
to waste in the hands of incompetent 
and unskilful workers. 

From the report which the Board of 
Works are now preparing on Irish 
fisheries, we expect a mass of valuable 
particulars; but the document is not 
yet published. The general fact is, 
howevcfi nolofiious, that a well ap* 



pointed fishing-boat of twenty tons is 
not to be found u|)on our whole western 
coast. It is equally well known that ' 
there is ample employment Kox flceU 
of fishing vessels off that coast during 
a great part of every year. The fisher- 
men of Clare ancf Gal way, in their 
canvas-bottomed coracles, are the' 
only labourers in the field ; and they 
may be compared to labourers attempt«i 
ing to cut a harvest without sickles — 
for they have neither tackle nor stow- 
age, nor seaworthy crafl at sea ; nor 
cooperage, nor storeage, nor regular' 
markets on shore. A company, we 
rejoice to hear, has been formed, and 
early in the season we look for a few tubs 
of sunfisli oil ill the market, from Black- 
sod or the Killeries ; nor should we 
be surprised, although much gratified, 
to hear that some huge wanderer from 
Arctic seas had fallen a prey to the 
harpoon, and was lyin^ high and dry 
on the strands of the Mullet, or under 
the clifl's of Donegal, before next mid- 
summer. The field, we repeat, is rich ■ 
and ample; there is room enough, and 
work enough for all ; but we willingly 
wait the appearance of the report be- 
fore we further dilate upon a subject 
too important to be treated only in a 
section. 

As to the gcncnd pursuits of trade, 
wherever we turn our attention wc see 
men of even moderate application de- 
cidedly successful ; while attention to 
business, punctuality and integrity com- 
mand, here as elsewhere, the warmest 
smiles of fortune. Let any one look 
around among his cotemporaries : is 
the diligent and upright man anywhere 
in want ? Who sees the sheriff's sale 
advertii>cd on the door-posts of the ac- 
tive, the temperate, the punctual ? Are 
working men briefless above, or client- 
less below, the bar ? Is the skilful sur- 
geon without patients? Is the fair 
trader without customers? Is the 
steady, active servant without a mas- 
ter? If there be any such, they are 
exceptions. The rule holds here, as it 
must continue to do wherever society 
exists, that the business-like man, whe- 
ther his business be a service or a 
trade, or a mercantile occupation, or a 
profession, will never be at a loss for 
either work or wages. So far we ar- 
rogate no peculiar mercantile advan- 
tages to the country. It would be a 
wretched place indeed if aeti\ity and 
honesty had not their accustomed re- 
wards in it. But we purpose to >.how 
that we have among us more men of 
the class described than the country 



58 



Capabilities of Ireland. 



[X 



on. 



grncrally gels crrdit for ; and that 

► every accession Ui their numbers must 
I for many years ti* come, increase ihe 
' existinjj: indycemctits lur others of tlje 

snuKi ijtump to juiii thrm. 

The [rrcjudice a^Hinst the Imh is, 
imrorUinuK ly^slroimi'St in tliase^ pijcc^ 
where it:* effects lull loo^t sciisdily, — 
Give a man m douUthil name on the 
Exchunge» and it is iinieh wursc for 
Iditi in a worldly point of view. Uuin if 
Ins in'xt-ilotjr neighbour, nay even hi* 

► own t'lUnily entert.dned a di^eidetily liad 
^ opinio T I of him. It is thus with us: 

wc urc in di^^race in tlie mirkct. In 

London suul in New York, the eoriduct 
I t)t uitr transplanted cnmitryiiien is un- 

forlun;it<;rty much vvori^e llian at home ; 
i autj I'verythiri}^ Irish suffers from a pro- 
^ portionate oclinni. Go thronyli the 
I ftrtrrtji of bnisiness in l^ondon ; v<>n will 
' find no tliriviny: trader man with a Mi- 
' lejsian name over hb iloor. The iV h 

fatal. We ?iicak it with a mixture of 

► regret and ijidi{,matk>n, th-it no man 
f whose niioie marks a more Irisli orijjrin^ 
I can look for success in any trade de- 
pending on the jijtronay'e of the wesl- 

I end inhahitantit of London. We have 
Jieanl of an adventurer ealled Patrick 
O'Shan^hneJisy, a fashionulde boot- 
muker, who onee made the attempt. 
Conscious of his dani:cri he did his 
best to nentitilize the obnfjxifjus wirds 
by the introdirction of an Epijlish pre- 

I ntfmcjt. It was ut the time of the Mar- 

' qnis of Anglcsea's jjopnhirity, and he 
chose^ as the most auspicimi!!!, tlie fa- 

• mily name of that noldeman, calling' 
liitnseir Patrick I'aj^et O'Shaug-hnessy, 
Thus, the "' PagtV* ?hone forth in 
golih-n letters over his door, while the 

1 ** Pairiek" at one side, and the 
' O' Shan;,'! messy** at the other, were 

tpijrtly 8Ckei'nL**i Frtan [juhlic aniniud- 
version by the Iriendly cnrvc of either 
wiuilow. Had he lived ^ippositc to a 
thorouifhfarc his fortune would have 
been madf, Uidtippjly for Patrick, 
however, hi** shop was ^o situated that 
whether going or comings, the pro- 
scribed words fiTst eiiu;;ht the eye oF 
the [lasscng-er, lie \tas in thi^ Gazette 
in three uitmlhs ufter. Wg know 
another instimcL- ofun Irish jirentleinan 
in lodyiriLiS in Loiirlon, a^vkiiig' tlio 
name ol' his servant* Ttie ^irl sidd her 
name was Jane Willinnii. Tlie ^r* ii- 
tl man cxpn'ssed surprise, a*, lie said, 
her L'OontLiiiOice \uid ae^.-=nred hint she 
was a coon try worn an. The j;irh after 
*oine lie^ilaliont c<^jnfcs!?c<l that UvT 
real name was Jam: Lynch, tliut she 
iiad bcoi born in Cork, but reared in 



St* Giles**, find tbnt the had been nbHgcd 
tn take the ICuglhh name of WUHamM to 
ohtmn a piuce. The anecdotes may 
appear trilling'' ; snch IriHes hiive been 
of material injury to Ireland. How 
stron;»^|y does the eondnct of the ab- 
sentee Li:^h, wfiose heartless uutl 
cowardly subserviency to fashion, forces 
their own e*>untryincn to these un- 
worthy sbil'ts for subsistence in a fo- 
reign bod, contrdst viitb ihut of th^ 
kindly Scot wherever he is to be foiiinL 
But it is not in London only, nor in 
servile oecupations wlonc, that ihc 
inisehief of this cruel prejudice is felt* 
^l^ny of the manufacturers of Dnbliii 
nnist croHs the channel tind retiiru 
nnder lieiitions names into their native 
mLirket before they can conciliate the 
enstoin of imr own resident gentry. — 
Let us i^ive the history of an Eng'Hsh 
nuide saddle i>urehased some time 
since in Dublin. The beasts from 
whose hides the prr cater part of it is 
made, were probably reared in Con- 
naught, sold at Baliiniisloe, slan^Iitercd 
and skinned in Cork, and the hidt*5 
taniUMl in Dnblin. The leather was 
then sent to England to dress, and re- 
turned to Dublin to be manufactnred ; 
was again reshipped to England in its 
manntactured shape, lo get a riamt^ and 
has been u third time sent back to Dublin 
to command that market ntulcr false pre^ 
tencea, which it dared not solicit in it» 
prenuine character. If the statement 
seem too startling", we will corrobnrkite 
it with another, A fashionable Dublla 
la<ly purchases a dress itta hig^h price us 
a French or Swiss mnslin ; the pieee from 
which it has been cut is the produce of 
an Irish hfou* ; the yarn was spun in 
Belfast, the fabric wa^ woven in Dub- 
lin ; the pattern was desi«rned und 
stjmiped upon it on the banks of the 
Liffey ; y«H the gonds have been re- 
gnlnrly consiiined Irom London or 
Bristol to the retailer* Let us giva 
anoiher anecdote. There is a metal 
billinril table manufactory in Dub- 
lin. The tnetal pliitlbrin of the 
table is pinned by muchinery which 
slinvcs it as smooth as a plate of glass* 
The tables nre supjdicd for sale to a 
Londrm house. Some months ago, a 
Gidvvay jLrentfrmun came to the Inge* 
nious and enterpri(*insj proprii for, and 
prieeil a I able, *V\\q sum asked was 
titty pounds. The Connuught mun de- 
nmrred, tlunkioi^ it better to give more 
money lor a superior article in the 
Knj^lish market The nnmufactiirer, 
whi) knc^v bib busiiu'ss, made no ahalc- 
uicnt, and the customtt uent his wav 



CapabiUtks t^Irelund. 



37 



In less than a raonlh afler, the same 
tahk' biou^lit seventy gwiueas in a 
IriUlulciti wafebon<*e, ami t/iv purchaser 
WftK^tke idvtUicai gctiitt'mati from Gai' 
■Mfyw It is til IIS the country loses the 
cretlii uf itio little Industry it posisesses. 
It must be |)lain that every accession 
to tKut liKliistry will tentl tu make the 
Iii**h mannfactiirer more coiifiHenl, — 
The ehiracttfr of bein^- Irisli*mat!c 
niitst 800U cease to be au objection to 
any ariicloiri tlie market : it' the article 
be g^od ciioii*,'b to pass for French or 
Euglinlj now, it vviil surely be gootJ 
enough to hoh! its own when brought 
into the raavket in quiiiiiity sutricieiit to 
warrant open com petition. True, 
nmny hrauclies of trade have ileeliiicd, 
but these were jsuiiported by a fietitioua 
system of protective duties, before tliey 
i'eil away. The old system of 
eopyrij^ht giiYC peculiar advantages 
to the Irish bookseller.* Many large 
works were accordingly published 
iti Dublin hi an expensive and 
creditable miiuner. At\er our eafiitals 
were put upon a literary footing, the 
|>ubli>hing bujiinrss of Dublin deelinetl, 
and many thought it never could re- 
vive. What ts the fuclt* We refer 
frith conlidence to the advertising 
sheet appeitded to our Magaziue ; 
irc refer with pride to this work 
which is the vehicle of oHr views, 
for proof nf the fallacy olthis, as well 
as of every other sfjeculation founded 



on the a^^aumption that equal means 
and equkd Intelligence in their appUca- 
tion will not cotnuiinid as jjrolitahle a 
return here as in EnLd'jrid or else* 
where. The man acquainted with the 
various rc*strietions^ |jrohibitive duties, 
and contunmeious hindrances thrown 
in the way of the early trade ol Ireland, 
will not be surprised at these reinnantJ* of 
antiquated prejudice* The time for 
any other than a free trade beiwceii 
the constituent parts of our united 
kingdom is now gone by— /Ae wan- 
citrcr from Connaught eon seii hh 
labour at par htfore tkv gate of Sainl 
Jamcs*g, Prejudice unsupported by 
active injustice will soon perish of in- 
anition ; and a weak lingering preju- 
dice is all we now have to get over, to 
put ourselves on an equality in trade 
with all the world, 

hi fine, whether we consider our 
country as a aeene in which the tourist 
may converse with nature under her 
most agreeable forms ; or as a theatre 
in which the j)hllosophic traveller may 
study society under ita most interesting 
and characterisrie aspects ; or as a field 
of commercial ailventore, in wbirh the 

fjmcticml and the moneyed man may 
ook for a fair reward for industry* and 
a compensating return for capital, in 
the prosecution of meritorious labours 
and benevolent speculations, we gee on 
every hand good cause for hopc% and 
honest pride, and self-congratulation. 



• »« Previous to the consoliilation of the copyright act«, the copyright of hooks 
printed in Kiikdnnd and Scotland, ex ten J ud to Great Britfiin nni its colon iea, hut not 
to Ireland ; while, vice fV-r*a, the copjrright of books puhlislied iti Irelnnd, ^%^^ cir- 
mttnscriWd within the hmiU ol the island. At the Union all this was changed^* and 
Hid copyright of a houk pnniLiI in any part of the JBritiish istlandft wan cxttMidiMl 
tl)rou>,'hout tht» whole empire. This, of course, materially* daraageil the publishing trade 
of Ireland, bemuse mo«t of tliu h^Miks hitherto printed were piracii^s of Euglith and 
Scotch works, thuti suvitig to the Dublin puhliiihtira all ri»k in the pnrrhase of copy. 
TtgKts, And inducement to cacournge native literature. But this change in the law 
gure ample eqaivLilent in extending the property in Irish publications to the whole of 
Grvat Uritairi and its dependencies. Had svme bookseller possessed intelligence, as 
many had capital enough, ai thU time, to retain at borne the prodactions of KdgC'- 
Worlli^ Muure, and a ma«sof Irish genius, then as well as now, lioating on the surfact! 
of the worlds Dublin might have occupied a very diff<'rent position in our liteniry his- 
t«iFy: hut, from whatever cause it arose* thia desirable event did not happen, and the 
publishing trade of Ireland fell to the lowest ebb^ periodical literatur*} was extinct, 
nod the pruiluctions of the Iriiih press were conlined to school- hooks, and a few 
ptttDphlets of politind or theological controA'ersy — even our local guide hooks weru 
ihif properly uf a house in Paternoster Row*" — {The Pivture of Dublin^ — Curry 
imd Co* ; 183o— pp. 72-5.) 

# HcmM*, in a great measure, Uiedecrauc of occupation at our cmtoin>houfec, to much lamimtctlj Liti 
NiiUjr bvticficial to tlic Inlerort of free tr4<te in xbt country. 



"g: --I 



53' The Mountain River. |[Jaii< 



TUB MOUNTAIN RIVER. — A DREAM.— EVENING. 

Nee tu pcrge preoor sftcras contemnere muaac, 
Ncc vaua« Inopesquc puta. 

MiLTQIf AD PaTEBX. 

r. 

THE MOUNTAIN RIVER. 

How calm thy waters travel to their rest ! 

No angry surges ruffle thy still way : 
A few light bubbles glittering on tiiy breast. 

And crushed reeds murmuring, alone betray 
Thy gentle wanderings through the flowers and grass ' 
Stooping to kiss the sweet waves, as they pass. 

Thy youth was bold and daring, — ^in wild war 
Bursting a channel down the mountain-steep, 

And dashing madly over every bar. — 

Now, thou hast hushed thine angry roar asleep. 

And stilled thy foaming waters, ere they come 

To yonder glassy lake, their tranquil home. 

Hear in what gentle tones it chides thy stay : 
*• Come to my blue dq>ths, and there find repose ; 

For thou hast travelled long a weary way. 
And shapes of ill and earthy taints arose 

To slain the first pure freshness thou didst bring 

From out the bosom of thy parent spring. 

•' Come from the haunts of poverty and care. 
Come from the sounds ot misery and grief. 

From the scarce-breathed complainings of di.'spair. 
Seeking, in thy sweet voice, a short relief: 

From all the hindrances that prison thee. 

The rock, the' mound, the bank — Oh haste to me. 

" Here shalt thou find but images of heaven, 
The beautiful alone are mirrored here ; 

The starry skies, the golden clouds of even. 
Each lovely hue, that gilds the sunlit sphere, 

Here shalt thou rest — while the true moon doth keep 

A faithful watch of light above thy sleep." 

And thou art murmuring back, O gentle river, 
A song scarce audible. Hushed all around. 

Save when the tall reeds gently bend and quiver. 
Deepening the silence by their thrilling sound ; 

Or light winds stirring thro* the old oak-boughs, 

A few faint tones of distant music rouse. 

Oh there is nothing here of care or pain. 
No trace of age, or weariness, or woe : 

Scarce the soothed spirit feels life's fettering chain. 
Scarce heeds the happy moments as they go. 

All speak of peace : her presence seems to brood 

O'er the calm hill and music-haunted wood. 

And can we marvel old religion gave 

Celestial habitants to every bower. 
Heard in the gush of each low-murmuring wave 

The gentle voice of some mysterious power. 
And felt a presence in each holy thrill 
For aught of earthly mould, too pure, too still V 



J837.] AJheam. ^ 

Beautiful.visioDs! never can. yc die, * , 

Never from earth your worship pass away : 
Still float your forms along the evening sky, 

Still hover round to cheer us on our way. 
Where — where the heart that hath not sonic bright dream 
Haunting the waters of life's troubled stream ? 

'Tis the Sweet spirit of poetry, that gives 

To this our world its majesty and might : 
Round each lone hill, a deep eAchatitment weaves, 

Pours on each lawn a flood of golden light, , 
Teaching the heart In every thing to see 
A grace-^ beauty — and a mystery. 

All — all around me is instinct with Iter : 

The silence on the lonely mountain sleeping, 

The gush of waters, light leaves as they stir 

Through the still air, her spells are gently creeping. 

Breathing a blessing on the softened heart 

Sweet hopes and dreams, that may not all depart. 

Yes ! 'mid the weariness of life's dull round. 
Oft shall remembrance turn to this calm vale ; 

Recall the thoughts that make it holy ground. 
The inspiration breathed in every gale. 

Oft lingering pause to hear tlie. gentle song 

Of the still river, as it glides along. 



A DREAM. 



^ A dream, a golden drefim 
What fancies wut upon our sleep." — Shiriet/. 

Sleep hath its own creations— forms 
Fairer than bless our waking eves : 

And kinder smiles, and brighter nopes 
Glimpses of sunnier skies. 

Come, reader, hear a blessed vision, 

A viston of that golden time. 
When earth itself seems not of clay 

But a sweet faery clime. 

A lovely girl, enwreathed with flowers, 
"Herself the fairest flower of all ;" 

And laughing eyes and sunny hours 
Come trooping at her call. 

Just of that age, when womanish thoughts 

• And new-bom fears begin to start : 
And maiden dignity controls 

• The gladness of the heart. 

How vain were all my skill to paint 
Those soft dark eyes, where feeling plays, 

And each emotion of the soul 
Speaks through their dewy rays. 

That figure of such faultless mould 
As grace itself alone could form : 

The mind that sparkling all around 
Gives light to every charm. 



60 Evening. [Ja 

Come let me from sweet nature's store 

Borrow some types to image thee : 
The breeze across the rippling wave. 

The fawn upon the lea. 

The beauteous bud, that nature's self 

Hath reared in sunshine and in calm. 
And given its leaves her richest hues 

Its breath, her sweetest balm. 

The gentle stream, whose waves have strayed 

'Mid forms of beauty and of grace ; 
No shape of ill, no envious shade 

To cloud ite placid face. 

Beautiful girl, ah, who would care. 

Sorrow, or dark misfortune fear ? 
Wert thou but nigh to kiss away 

The happy, happy tear. 



Hi 

EVENING. 



Oh not unhallowed is the softening hour 

When twilight steals o'er glen and mountain peak : 

From the lone cavern and the leafy bower. 
Thro' the still air unearthly voices speak. 

And mistwreathcd shapes and shadowv figures glide 

Slowly along the pathless mountain-side. 

Yet glitter in the west a tl^ousand dyes, 
Yet lingers on the hill the sun's last ray : 

A moment more, and from the glimmering skies 
The gorgeous pageant hath all waned away ; • 

And night o'er every hill, and gnrove, and dale 

Draws, with sofl hand, the shadow of her veil. 

The dews are falling round — the gentle dews! 

And calm repose, descending on yon hill. 
Into the heart doth its own self infuse. 

From far the music of one gushing rill 
Sinks on the ear — ^a murmur — a low sigh 
In harmony with the still night and starry sky. 

If thou be one, whose worn and wearied heart 
Mourns that the freshness of its youth is gone : 

If thou hast seen peace, joy — even hope depart, 
And leave thee in this bleak, cold world alone. 

Oh wander hither, and forget awhile 

These gloomy thoughts in Nature's gentle smile. 

Come, and while beauty feeds thy raptured eye. 
And to thine ear the softest hai^monies speak. 

While influences from yon starry sky 

A l)lessing brimthe upon thy careworn cheek. 

Kneel, and adore that mercy which hath given 

To this sad sintiil world so much of heaven. 

J. T. B. 



57-3 ^'■' ^^^^ Replff to ifie Edifihurgh Review, 



61 



h 



DR. WALLS EEFLY TO TUB SDIKUURGU flEVlEW, 

7b the Ediior qf Oc Dubfin VnivtriU§ ilagaxiw. 

Sir, — 1 shall feel much obliged by your insertmg' the suhjoined letter, and 
accompanyinsT observations, in the next Number of your publication ; or, if my 
application be too late for that purpose, I rec^oeat a pbee I'or them in the one 
ifumetljutety after the next, and am your very obedient servant, 

Charles W^ Wall. 
TiiD, CoL Dub. Nov. 22, 1B36, 



111 MeiMTt. Adam and CkartcM Stack t BooktrUert, Edfnbvrgh. 

Gentlemex,^ — I have just read, I confcfs with some degree of surprise, an 
article in your last Niiniber, commnnting with great, and, as I coutTive, ynnie- 
rited severity, on my ** Essay oo the Egy])tUin Hieroglyphs." The person you 
have employed to write this artiele has not only charged me with ignorance, 
incorapetcncet and dishonesty, hut he has also defivd me to meet the eharijes 
thus made against me ; and, consequently, has challenged me to refute them, if 
1 can. 

Gentlemen, I accept the challenge, and I demand from you, as a matter of 
rijrht, space, iji the pages of your next Number, Wir my vindicatioiL If you 
think ]jroper to comply with this demand, I wish to know what time I shall he 
allowed for preparing an answer, and what immber of jiages can be allotted 
to )L 

1 shall feci obliged by your retunnng an early miswer to this letter, and 

rl remain, Gentlemen, your humble servant, 
Charles W. Wall, 
Trim Col. Dub. Nov, I, 183G* 



On the 0th iiiist, I received from the ject which is purely of a literary na- 



conductors of the ** Edinburgh Rc- 
vie\v,'* a refusal of the denuiiid con- 
tained in the above letter. I am sorry 
fur this, as their complying with my 
application would \m\v enahh'd me to 
pnt a better construction on their con- 
duct than I now can do. However, 1 
shall not dwell upon the circumstance 
of their declining to act up to the 
itptrit of a chalienge which originated 
with themselves ; but will prcKiced at 
once to show the extrcmL* unfairness 
of the attack which they have made 
i>n my work, premising only one ob- 
servation. 

Why these reviewers should have 
felt such animosity against me, I really 
am at a loss to conceive. (Thank 
God, 1 am not actuated by a corres^finn- 
dent (ecHng, notwithstanding the wan- 
ton provocation ( have received,) Their 
piiliticiil principles and mine may 
differ ; but they can scarcely be ac- 
quainted with the views, upon public 
questions, of an indlvidtial who leads 
hu retired a life as I do ; and even if 
they were, surely party feelings ought 
not to be allowed to toBucnce the 
judgiDCRt, in the discussion of a sub- 



ture. In a fojmer aTtJcle of theirs* 
V hieh — very unliki' the one now under 
c<jns.ideriitioji — was written with some 
deirrce of ability and fairness, there 
o<.cnrs II ridiculous mistaki', which, as 
coimected with my subject, 1 hiid lo 
expose ; but 1 did so pljylidly, with- 
out the slightest intention of luHieting 
injury, or giving offence. Surely they 
ought not to ft?*d so sore from an ex- 
posure which was made in such a miti- 
guled form, and in so very lenient a 
nmnner ; and even if it w ounded their 
pride ever so much, this would not 
jusiily iheir resorting to uusrejvresenta- 
tinn antl abuse as the weapons of rcta- 
lialtmi. 

The critic comniisMoned by those 
|:eo(lfMin'n to assail me, eomniences 
with iin .iltark w\Mn\ my choice of 
w ords ; and here 1 freely admit that I 
am very vulnerable. No one can be 
more sensible than I am myself of my 
deficiencies in this resfjeet ; but I 
should ho[ie that the fuir and candid 
reader will pardon the occasional use 
of an old-fashioned, or even of a pro- 
viiieiiil cxjjrcssion, if I convey to him 
iiifornmtiou of any value or Interest ^ 



Dr. Waifs Rq^ to Ac ESnfiitffh ttefriew^ 



02 

and tbat he will estimate the fruit of 
my labours, ni>t by the shell, but by 
the kenieL The word wliicb is, on 
the present occasion ^ liehl un fur cen* 
iure, is uiarktid in Italics in tin* follow- 
ing co|>y of a jmssage. extracted from 
tbe advertiaeuicpt prefixed to oiy 
•• Essay :*' — 

** Haimii^f Hi the course of writing this 
preliminary trtatistj, lit u|>t>ii vvhtit I be- 
Iwve to be t\w truu key to Ihe decipher- 
ings o( the Eofetta hJ(^rot?lyph»^ I hitva 
heen induced to hope that tbe pubticHtioa 
of so much of my work tuight excite 
soma inttiretit.*' 

Thut my censor should resort here 
to a mere verbal criticism, and avoid 
all discussion on the subject of the au- 
iionncement, does not upfiear to me tr> 
Tolieet credit otv cither bis taste or his 
ubdities. But to contijie niyifeif to 
the point which be considers itf most 
iiuportiiace, 1 have to inform hiu» that 
the exprcsi»ioii be bus found soch Ikutt 
with» may be seen in the wriLlng:3 of 
men who were neither vulj^ar oor in- 
accurate. Locke* I think* often mtide 
use of it ; but for the present purpose, 
one instance is sufficients wliicli I give 
frdm his *• Essay on the Human Un- 
derstandiug ;" — 

** Whoever first Ut on a parcel of that 
snbstitnct! we call gold, could not ra- 
tionally take the hulk and figure to de- 
pend on its real essence." 

However, I by no means wish to 
shelter myself under this authority 
from the iiimutation of having- med a 
phrase that has, in some degree, eonq 
<mt of modern tise ; and I should have 
been obliged to the reviewer for point- 
ing fjut this fault to me, if he bad done 
so in tbe spirit of equity and candour* 
But when he crocs on to say, " vvbat- 
ever he * fits upon' he ilisputr's;'" 1 beg 
to assure him tliiit, if he intended this 
gs a sample of my style, he lus not 
given a fair represcutatiou of iU and 
that the bad grammar of the sentence 
is not mine, but his own, 

Tbe more serious point, however, to 
be considered in connexion with the 
above sentence' is, the dispntatious 
character which the critic attempts to 
fasten on me, — a character which, I 
trust, never will be mine ; and to 



j:Jmh 



which, at all events, no one can feel a 
greater aversion than t do. My work» 
indeed, aboumls in discussion ; or, tf 
n»y accuser j»o pleases to call it, in dis- 
putatiim ; but this bits arisen fr^om thc^ 
necessity of tbe case, and I be n;iture 
of the subjects in the iuve^tii^atioD of 
which 1 have en^mged. I have Im^u 
dr<rwn into a lenLfthened train of argu- 
ment, not from a wrangling^, conten- 
tious > di^posiiion^ but from a love'of 
truth, and an earnest desire to remove 
errors interfering with tbe progress of 
hum urn kaowledge. Surely when I in- 
troduce new views upon intcrestin^^ 
topics, I cannot expect that otbcrA will 
concur in those views without being" 
told the steps that have led to them, 
or the reiisnning by whitdi they arc 
sustained. 1 now put out of considt . 
ration my inc|uiry into tbe origin of 
alphabetic writing:, on which the re- 
viewer has siiid but little, (thoiigh even 
in that little bfe bus contrived to show 
^reat ignorarice of the subject ;) and, 
turnintr to the Eg-yptian bieroglyphsj 
ou wUch alone he has dilated, I muy 
observe that there are many questions 
connected with them, which, tbon^rb not 
of essential importance, are yet matter 
of interesting' curiosity to tbe ine^ta- 
physician, the philolo^st, ami the an- 
tiquarian, 1 shidl lie re very briedy 
allude to one of these questions. 

AVhat is the nature of the hiero- 
glyphic writing in the general text oJ 
the Egyptian legends, outside tbe ctir- 
touches, and of that inside such ol* 
them as contain the names of the more 
ancient sovereigns of Egypt Y hL 
Charapollion pret end t^d he bad made 
out that It is, in the main, alpltabetie ; 
that not merely tbe part to w hicb Dr. 
Youngs discovery applies, in dcci- 
pberinj^ the cuntents of the later car- 
touches, but the whole of it is cbictly 
of this de^cripiion. 1 maintain, on 
the contrary, that the f^eueral text of 
ibis writing, at least as far down as ihc 
date of the Kosetla monument, and 
the inscriptions in all the cartoucbt^s 
older than that of Psamuieliehuft, are 
ideagraphic; that, with whatevej plau* 
fibibty the French author has [mt for- 
ward ids interpretations of the more 
ancient hieroglyphic legends, they are 
utterly valueless ;• (as indei^d must 
likewise be all those winch have since 



• M. Klaproth is entitled to the rrpdit of havinir bf^n the tlrst who expnted llic 

failure of some oi the attempts to deciphtfr the Egyptian bi.-r.irlvphH, »ccuriJitig t» 

ihe phonetic theory now in vogue. But he never Iwd the theory il*clf 

UTis erronuoiis : he still held that the characters in que>i jt'uerally employed 

Vith phouetic poweri} bal that in sercrlil inslances those powers were hot yet di»co- 

. vered. 



18S70 



Dr, Waits Reply toifte Edinhurgh Ueviem* 



es 



been ffroun<!c<l uDon tlie same exronc- 
ou* princii>1c ;} and that the only 
•chance wc have of making any pro- 
pTfSS in the solution of this problem, 
depends upon our relmein^ our stcp^ 
and resumltig- iHe investigation at the 
*<tl-age At which Yoorig left it. Hut Jt 
seem* T avus wTonjr In appealing on the 
subjt'cl til the uiiderstantling of the 
leamedt utid in supporiitis^ my nppeai 
liy a great variety of facts and ar^u- 
nient*. 1 was qtiile wrung in trying 
to draw ihcm off from vihut a] 41 ears to 
lie a frnilles^ line of pursnk, and in 
Cuuihiiting error wilh that ititcntion. 
The reviewer disapproves of such con- 
duet, and, in eonsLquunce, pronounces 
I hut 1 am a dii^pnterj and % sceptic : 

•• Whatever be *Ut» upon * he diiputes ; 
and he 0O€m$ to think that the only cer- 
tiiio way of diticovering something 1% to 
l>egio ly qtiestiouiog every tUin^f." 

In the very same paragraph I am 
accused of dogmiidsm : — 

_ ** He dugmntisea with a confidence 
■;Which b(«ur« an immense difiproportiun 
.Xo his knowledj^e of thf) subject which 
he uodurtake* to treiit of,** 

1 confess I do not see how (he two 
charges can han^ well tan^L^th«?r j hut I 
am not at idl surpriftcd at a mistake of 
this kind in lh« effusions of my pre- 
sent Qssaihint, Even persons of ckar 
intelh'ct are liahle to fall into inconsis- 
tencies, wheu they lose their temper. 
The most amusing circumstance^ how- 
ever, connected vi ith the latter charge 
1*, that the reviewer appears to be to- 
tally unconscious of the applicability 
of this very charge to biniself. The 
observation occur* in the *' Spectator/' 
that •* critics write in a positive, dog- 
matic WMV, without either bng^ua^e, 
irenius, or ima^'ination." And 1 rather 
think the candid reader will airree with 
me, that a more dogmatic article than 
the one now nnder consideration could 
not easily be penned. This article 
con t air IS a nnml>er of very bitter accu- 
sxtiona against me, most of whreh are 
advanced with the crmfidcncc of cer- 
tainty, but without even the shadow of 
a proof, — jssent to them being required 
upon the sole anthority or the i]>»e 
duit of the critic. The follow ing spe- 
cimen, taken from near the eonnuence- 
meat of the critii(ue, may serve as a 
toucher for the correctness of what is 
here staled. 

** la this aniiuUti and philosojiliic spirit, 
aiaaiU Bi^op Warliurton 'without 



mercy; arcnises Dr. Yrmnp, and the aU'- 
iljor of the article on Hicnoi^hjiphkm wliich 
appeared in thi& Journid, of * forj^ery ;' 
dc^tend;! i^ than Cuius Kircher against llitr 
chnr^'tj of indulging In fanciful and iina- 
jrinary interpretation ; and denounces the 
late M, Champollicin a« a writer who 
* endcavourt'd to imp the rctuudntion of 
religiouH b^-lief, by attackiuif the hifttoric 
Imth ii\^ the Bible.* Dr, Witll, iudccd, 
seemK to vcrit« in vk& great a hi^at as if litj 
Imd bean discussing the theory of imper- 
eonal verb^, and bad gotluiu die wor?«L in 
the nrgumt^at ;-^tbe hinguttge which be 
biiblLually employe \^ more nearly akin to 
the t^nipbiitic malediction of the exaspe- 
rated grammarian tbnn ihe ^ober phrase- 
ology ot the philosopher. Wv appears to 
view everything through tlie distorting 
tneJium of passionate excitement ; nur 
cnn he di»cne<i a difference of opinion on 
subjects, wiiere tliere it still but too macli 
roum for conjecture, without casting the 
nioBt an warnni table imputations. He 
has no talent for commendation, however 
much it may be deserved. His forte 
consists in seeking* or in making, occa- 
sions of cen^are. He dogmaLizes with 
a confidence wliich bears an imnienH« dis- 
proportion to his knowledge of the sub- 
ject which be undertakei to treat of; and 
in accusing others of ignorance, he Is of- 
tentimes preeminently successful iu expos- 
ing his own.** 

On the dogmatic assumption of su- 
perior knowledge, which this extract 
displays, it is unnecessary for me to 
dwell ; but perhajjs I may have oppor- 
tunities of showing, as 1 proceed, that 
other features, al^o, of the anibor's 
own portniit, ate very strikingly de- 
picted in the literary character which 
lie has here drawn for mc. Of the 
w hnle passage, eon.*idered as an indict- 
ment, I shall for the present mertdy 
observe generally that, when an accuser 
brings forw ard severe chartres, withont 
establishing any one of them by any 
sort of evidence, or proof, the discre- 
dit which results from the proceeding 
is cxeluiiively his own, and the Idow 
which he has levelled against anollicr 
recoils upon himself. 

I shall not stop to refute the charge 
of having assailed Warbuiton without 
mercy, a^ no instjnce, or proof of any 
kind, is given of this umuereiful treat- 
ment of the Bishop. 

Of my having defumed Young, proof 
indeed \?, attempted : — but what is the 
niitiire of this proof? Is it grounded 
on the quotation of some passHge from 
my ** Essay," in which i have spoken 
Hi' of him V By um mcaas. it actually 



84 



/>r, Wiiirs Reply to tiie Edinburgh Review, 



[Jftfl. 



consists in a reference, not to anytliiug 
1 have suit], Lmi to Buuieliiiug t^aid by 
Yon II "j^ himself. 

'Fhf charije aji^aiiist me ia aiadeotily 
by iiiipHtraiitHu and when the Hi\>~ 
pre-«scil part <U' the reasoning is sup- 
jjlieilj die sniistuare of the arg^tiracnt 
on whifh my at^Ltisalion rests may be 
stiiU-Ml iis rulUnvs :^l)r. Wall bus ac- 
cused the Ediribar^h Review of a 
certain comical nnr*take, But» says 
the champion fur the Review^ Yoangf 
committed the same mistake ; midj 
therefore. Dr. Wall is Yoim^'-'s accuser 
also! So» to sercen bis employers 
from a little well-deserved ryieale, this 
chamitiou endeavours lo throw the 
blame of the halloeination in qneslion 
uprtn an author who, 1 believe, itcver 
was goitty of aoy such blonder, and 
whom, certainly, 1 never aecuaed of 
»iieh* 

The proof, sach as it Is, of which a 
deacriptlou has been just ijiven, b con- 
) tnincd in the following note of the 
KevtGW : — 

" The same * misstatement/ fas Dr. 
WaJl is pleased to term it,) will he found 
} in Dr. Youd^'b ♦ Acrvnni of some rtctmt 
r J}ii*C0veries m Hirroiiiffphical Literature 
and E^yptififi Afttifftltwiir' pp- ^-6, Lon- 
don, IHiiiJ, in Kvo, Accuracy not being 
nmon^st the numher of thi> learned pro- 
fims^ir's literary virtuea^ be hj as a»uiil, 
completely Ignunmt of tlic history of the 
alleifi'd * misstntement/ which, in the po»- 
mge above ^uotedj he pro!es&«s to ex- 

JIOSLV" 

Except the first sentence of this note, 
nothingr whatever is thtoiig-hoot the en- 
tire uTlicle brought foruard to sustain 
the charjre of my havuisj accused Dr. 
Yonn^ of* fiirfjrry,* The |Kira^raph of 
his, which i.^ here reh^rred to,, bet not 
rpiotcd, will, I think,itll'ord^ome anaise- 
ineiit, by its bearing'- on the present 
auLjject ; it is as follows : — 

«* A cursory inspection of the nreck Jn- 
Bcriptioo, contiiiDcd in the pillRr of Ro- 
tetta, wHfl nulhiicint to estHhli^ih, n» incon- 
trovertible, the opiidno, which hfid been 
M}ry My maintnined by our arale and 
leairiied countryman, Bishop Wnrhurton, 
thiit the hieroglyphics, or sacred charac- 
ten, were not so denQminnted, as being: 
exclusively appropriated ta sacred suh- 
jectSj but that ibey conHtitated a real 
written hm^ufi|fe, applicuhle tr» the pur* 
poses of history und conmjf»n life, as well 
a» to lbo«e of reUffioti and mylhob»g^y; 
since this iriJ-criptiorj »ipi?aks ot the threw 
divisions of thi< pi]hir» hh containing dii^ 
ferent veraioasi of the mma decrco, iu the 



sacred and the vulgar cliaracter, and in the 
Greek limgunge respectively; and t Jt ttf 
there wn$i no fraud in thi» det»criptioa, waa 
at oQce made evident by the juiit obsorva- 
tioa of Akerblnd, who pointed out, at the 
eod of the hierog^lyphicnl in5crtpiion» the 
three first numerals, indicated by 1. If. 
and I J I. respectively, where the Greek 
has ^ the first and the second . . , , :' 
the end heing brokeo off. It was nisa 
evident, that the hieroglyph ical lan^ua^e 
contioued to be understorMj nnd employed 
in the time of Ptolemy Epiphaaes ; but 
here tlifl matter rusteii for Be vera! years; 
no sin!»:le represent4ition of an exi>tia^ 
ohjeci hiiviajf been so identified, on tbis 
or any other monument, among the hie- 
roglyphics, as to have its ^T^rniHcatioo de- 
termined, even by a probable conjecture." 

The first part of this panigmph 
points out very distinctly the place 
where the former reviewer found the 
exprcAsion wnttvn innguage^ applied to 
Ihe hieroglyphic legends of the Eg>ji- 
tians ; and aH'ords strong' reason for 
evispectiag th^jt he and my present ai- 
tiaibnt are one and the same person.— 
But, however that may hi% the writer 
of the former article, as 1 hope to be 
able, a little fartlier on to establish be- 
yond a doubt, used the words in ques- 
tion in the sense of alphabetic or pho- 
netic writing, in order to ^ive W^arbur- 
ton credit for some share in a discovery 
to which he did not, iu the remotest 
degree, c out ri bote ; whereas Youn^ 
certainly eaiploycd those words in the 
place referred to, merely to express 
writing- in genenil ; It is onite evident 
from the context that ho did not nieun 
by them to attribute to the Bishop any 
knowledgre of the particular nulure of 
hieroglyphic writin^-^— a knowledge* 
which, in the conchision of the par4* 
graph, it is stated, was n'>t arrived at 
even several years after the diseovcry 
of the Rosetia stone. The absurdity, 
then, iu one of the passages 1 c|notrd 
from the Review — that beginning wilh 
the words, ^a very cursory ins|ieclio(i 
of the pillar of Rosetta," wliittb, it now 
appears, the writer of the article took 
witli scarcely any like rati on from Youngs 
though he pa!^^cd it ort' <ts his own — 
does not at all exist in tltit passage as 
originally ased, hot only in its suljse- 
cjaent mi?ap]dieatn>n. The absurdity 
in qae<;tiou bdonu^ solely to the re- 
viewer ; and I must still consider lh«* 
passage, as emjiloyed by him, to be his 
exclusive property, notwitbstitndingthe 
great candour with which he now 
wishes to restore it, in its daitiuj^cd 
state, lo the original owner. 



r 



1837.] 



Dr, WalfM Stpfy io the Edmburgh Review. 



65 



Why my a?4ailBiit, in hw effurt tf) 
prove me a calumniator of Votiiisr, did 
not resort to any direct cvideuce in 
mpport of the charge, uan be very 
^sily accounte<i for. My E^ay is 
from one eml to ihe other, lilted with 
praises of the cjctniortlinnry geniua and 
iagucity of this very writer, Detiyrhted 
with the instances (>riiin:euuity wUirli I 
found every where iu hid hiero^ly|dnc 
investiguttoiis, I have closely analysed 
the step$ by which he ad vatic L'd, mid 
have given a full accoimt of llie ori^j^in 
and pro|ifr<'ss of bia discovery. I htivc 
viadicttted his eicln>ive ri^ht to the 
credit of the invention in (]iie^tion ;* 
have exposed the vain boasting of 
Chatnpollion on this point ; and have 
proved^ even npua his own showinja^, 
that he has been not an inventor, but 
merely the improver upon an inven- 
tion previously made by another ; and 
that* toot to a very limited extent, as 
his later deciphering^a, in consequence 
of beings fo*tnded on an erroneous prin- 
ciple* are totally wurthless. In fact, 
uiy admiration of Youni? Cdrried me a 
l^fat deal further than I hud orio:i- 
fially intendc^d, into a subject which, 
though highly interesting' in il»elf» is 
still of very subordinate importance to 
thai which I have yet to uufold. I 
could not, however, resisiit the pleasure 
I felt ; lir»t in doing justice to his me- 
inory, and next in trying tt* follow up 
his investigations. How far I niuy 
have succeeded in the littrer uitcinpt, it 
is not for me to sav, but for the public 
to decide. The following sketch of his 
other discoveries is contained in a 
ooie upon an opinion expressed in my 
text, that if the Enchorial writing on 
the Rosetta stone had been «lphabelic, 
he would have completely succeeded in 
his attempt to decipher it. The note 
is long, but I shall make no apology 
for lU insertion here ; as whatever re- 
lates to thi» author carries with it some 
degree of interest. 

•* Tho investigating powers which he 
displayed in his subsequent Enchoriid re- 
I taarcheSf warranty I conceive, tht«i opi- 
I xii<iii. Jodeed what he therein effected 
f appears to Biford a far morB surprising 
proof of talent than hi& hieroglyphic dis- 
covery. For iRfitance, one cannot avoid 
^ being astonished at hi» making out the 
meAJJing of an Enchorial manuscript uf 



some length, without the help of any 
IranslatioQ, md actually without know* 
ing the exact nature and use of the chn ^ 
i-acters iu which it wsis written, excepting 
those employed to deuoto proper names ; 
luid yet there can be little doubt but thnt 
he succeeded to a consideraWe extent in 
tiiis tat*k, siince his expl;iniiLicin wtu in the 
main verified by n Greek tmu^ktSoii 
afterwariia found. However, it would ho 
too great a digres«ion from niy subject to 
enter into any detail upon the point, and 
it woul 1, tiesiijps, bo a supflHIuous hdionrt 
asarc^untsof it are alrendj bufore t"he 
public in books of easy access. I admit 
thnt the samanesa of the general subject 
to which the Enchorial MSS. are con- 
lined, lessens the difiiculty of getting at 
the meaning ofanv one of them ; * les 
papyrus, que qnidques personnel - peu 
eclairees prennent j>our des livres^n'offrent 
(ju'nae perpetuelle repetition dc«s rcemijs 
formules tonjours rehitives nn meme 
sujeU la niort et sea consequences.*--^ 
Exam, Crit. p. 18, Still, there is quite 
a fiuHicieiit variety in the particulars of 
the circumstances to which the diflereut 
MSS. rclnte, to render Dr. Yoong^s suc- 
cess in the instance to wliich I have al- 
lude^d, truly wouderful ; nnd the fact of 
the ill formation thence derived being of 
very little value, doen not at at 1 less^en our 
estimate of the ingenuity which must 
have been brought io to play upon the 
occasion. Jt is also to be noticed, and 
the circumstance is very remsiTknble, that 
his researches were extended with equal 
success to suhjects of quite a different 
kind. Many branches of physical scieuca 
have recei%'ed important nccei^ions at his 
hands. But it was in bis discoveries con- 
cerning the nature and properties of Light 
that the penetratinij and original charac- 
ter of his genius seems to have been most 
fully di&played. He it was who revived 
the theory of Huygens, which seemed to 
have sunk under the opposition of New- 
ton and Laplace ; and he brought forward 
whole classes of new facts, which lent it 
an unexpected support. The lertila 
principle of interfermce is due to bis sa- 
gacity, and he was the first to suggest the 
theory o^ transversal vihraiions i a theory 
which, devidoped in the hands of Fresneif 
iias not only afforded a clue to the expla* 
natioa of the known phenomena of pt^ 
larizcd light, but h;is even U^d to the auti- 
cipntion of many others which hud been 
before unobserved. To complete the 
pictUTC, however, and ouaUe us to form 



• Thtf, as fiir as concerns the external history of the discovery, has been attempted, 
hut not very correctly executed, by the writer of tho first article upon hieroglyphs 
ia the Edinburgh Review. As to the proof to be derived from the internal cvideuce 
of the cascv that would appear to have been quite beyond bis reach. 

Vol, iX. F 



66 



Dr. WuiPs Reply to ifte Editiburgh Review. 



[J. 



k just noliun i^i thfi full dixtcDt of lild ta- 
^ k'ut, it sbm^ld U* uildtid, tliut he eii^^'Hjyffd 
I iu LttuaL^ JklTcreiil invt!^Lik^uLtiicj« miCk^x all 
I ilitf dtJLlkuUit!» uuil <li*iadvautH|L^ea of po- 
verty, wbile he wju* lVetjtit!nlly ctJiiipelied 
to wrile aijonymoujj arUdes for iW peri- 
> Chlii:iil puljlicatioii3 in order to support 
i hiitiselr, MtiJ put to ulliBf ji»biJts Lu euira h 
preciiriouM <iud u «>CiiiJty subiiiiterice/ — 
^ott i>u pp» 133-4. 

I now hi'^ to rpuiirnl tliii reatlf r uf 
the feature in the litemrv portrait iii' 
tended for me — ** i\v htiii lui tulcrM J^>r 

|(^oiiiiiJeudaiion, [ic»ivevr>r iimeh il [PdV 
de'^erved* Hh furit' c(Ul^^i^t:^ iii 

'Peeking, oi in m.tkiiiaf mcclisuhis ut'ceii- 
tMjre"^uiid I ut>iit^al to him whethttr tiie 
revifwer hiw not ln^t-ii litre drawifig 
ki^ own likent^^s railier th^iii mine, 
Titis likejii^ss H ir^k'ed pliteed in a 
piiint of view rhdf rrjidern; it, if fKJSsiUk% 
ttill in(»re Hmusinudy s(rikiiiL% hy the 
next «Hiiint ot ilie indietnipot pref«rreiJ 
jij^aiiisl nil'. He ** defends Alhanuaina 
KiTt^her aifEiiiiH the charyf^e of iodol^nuif 
111 titncilui lind iitiri^iiiury iiileqireta- 
tion.*" Nim, 1 have never stid tt single 
viord in favcnir of Kirt'hrr hut on one 
fiCL'ii5iou ; utid niv olijet t llfcen was to 
»hoWt not ut all thiit iw. was ricrht in bis 
\iew of a prirtieolur suhjpctjnit merely 
tlmt he was not, u]nm that subject, 
qnite as mnth in the viroiitf us Biftho|} 
\\ a r burton ; and to ihi^i very ipj.diiied 
detenee, I ijreinisKl the ohservutioTi— - 

•* 1 fim 11% little dif'posed nft nny one 
eW to dufend his reveri*'*." — p. 75. 

It is imnecessary to quote more of 
the f^as^ui^e, in order to pointing uut 
the yro^a ndarefiresentation which, in 
tlii^ iii^uiuc{\ it 1ms been attempted to 
impose upon the puhlic. To use tlie 
tiin)fUii^e of my uc'eusLT, he lias bt-en 
li»*re ' ithdiiifi an ucLni^ion for censure ;' 
the eniire ^:roiiiid of thiii inijiotatioa 
upon my indgnienl hii*i been erealed by 
his own iinsia:'] native pov^ers. 

But ihronsjhout the article in which 
I am so hitteily n^s-aih d. tite ptiint iipun 
whicli the Edinhnrffh Uevievverj!. aeem 
to feel nnHit ^ore, U that of my li^vinti^ 
^iresjimed to deleft a nikuke coin- 
mitted in ^ former nuniher of tlieir 
publicj*tioii. I, howevi r, exposed the 
error inerely brcanse it inleriered with 
the theory I wan *upportini^ at the 
time ; hut I did not dwell upon it» nor, 
M"? miiijit he evitifjwt from the Uum 
adopted by me on thf* 0iH:.iBir»n, did I 
wt**h to reijresent it tis u laidt of any 
sertuas uoportMnce. From the ubittty 
geiierj-lly displaced in their crittLal 
^sijr^ ibey could, I supposed, afford 



to be ctmvicled of uccafiional error* on 
ufmuT poitita ; and I bad given tbeoi 
credit ibr streni'ih uf mind t^uperi* r to 
tukiiFj; ofienee, when o He nee wa* ob- 
viously not inteudtd to be given* I 
aihall not atieet to eonctal my re|:iet at 
finding the ca&e turn oit otberwU<*; 
and that 1 have, though iindeiiig:nedty, 
extited the ho6tilit_v of individuaU who 
excrciiiiie so considerable an influence in 
the literary world, 

1 shall now qunte tlie passage which 
baa, it 6eem>, fji vtn s^uch mortal otTcnce ; 
and I he^ leave to present it to the 
reader* as aUo the reply, just m they 
ttre exbibitud iu the review, with jiU 
the prominent di.<tincti<inH uf capitals, 
italicf^p inteFpolationSj and notes of jd- 
mi ration, which are nsu.dly employed 
by those experienced in the art of de- 
preciation. 

** Tbe second of his ( Warburtoo's) 
nhjcctioDH, deserves ntlentiont becatisii tt 
not €nly affords bi& own direct testitnony 
aLrainal hie liavin^^ di^cuvered the phonetic 
u«ti oF hieroglyphs madti by the aocient 
E|ryplian» [whicb do one ever attributed 
to Inm l]t but also nhows that be consi- 
deri-d ihu very idea of such a use of tlieoi 
ahfiurd, to such a dejfreo, that when the 
disi'overy ivas Mi^fg'ested to him by tUe 
words of Clemen*, \w ahM)luteIy per- 
verted the meanintr ot tho^e wordit ia 
order to get rid of the^ug^eation. Andyrt 
RKVt'ral of the popular works uf the pre- 
sent day teem with bis prattles on aecouat 
of this very discovery [n<il one of Ibrni 
ever imtigined that. Warbiirtou had rooib 
aitfh a discovery!], und dilate upon tb« 
profound judgment and admirable »a^- 
lity which he displayed in makinj^ i!. 
Indeed, the aathors of the^e work* 
wnuld hav« us believe; that his penetra- 
tion reached not only to what i* now 
Rctually kriown upou th« subject, but n 
grfal ileal farther ; and that he discerned 
the hicrog^lypbic texts of the Egyptians 
to be icfwtttf phonetic [this is not true!]» 
e^o as to ctni&titute a written hmgaairti 
which is more than nay one elsi* hai 
been noire able to prme. To kKow to 
wliut iin extunt these writers impose «poa 
thfii) knives and on the public, I :»uhjoin 
an *«xinict from one of their wtirk:*, 
which» 1 believe, is |xeuerally conductrd 
with Rtjiiity, and standa high among the 
perictlieiil pnblicHtion*, Ii» ibe artii te of 
tht) » Kdiabiirirb Review' to wh.cb I liuv« 
already referral, uud which bits been ex* 
tensiiveiy read ou the Continent, as Well 
HA here, the reviewer ^ives us the tallow* 
)ui( information: — 

»• * But the cftbjilistical reveries of Kir- 
cher faibd to imj-'o^e on the ttrong srnw 
and poueitnl intellect of Bishop W*ir- 



1837.] 



D}\ IVaiis Rephf to the I^dmhurgh Review* 



turlon> la his ceiubriitfid workt Tlie 
Dimne I^e^atioH of Mo»es dnmmHtrateti, 
that learned preinte has dmusfted with 
amttimnuitii •clitibr^liifn tht« tliJiVrent tm- 
eieol text»r«littive to the E^^yptiiiii miHlca 
ofwritini^; diBtiDguislied theuredvaihf the 
•tfT«ral iotln M ihwtHctur* enipl(*yed;» 
tm4 nade the important nhsitnattom^ tiou* 
compit^ehf verified ^ that the hienH}h/phk:tt 
or Bucred cbnriii-|er6, mtre not *n defuimi- 
noted f as beinti cjrciusivtl^ appropriated to 
sacred suhjecU^ but that thrtf citHJ/titute<l a 
real written language^ Ufjplicftble to Uie 
purpoiet of Kjbtory and common lili?, an 
wallas lo thutM ut i-ftHifiuu (tnd ntytlioio^y. 
He urn* undouliti'dly mibtHken in * ontMud- 
illg tluit tiHch of tbe three sorts u\ cKu- 
mcten nit'ntioiied by Clenu'it^^ Tornitid n 
dUtmct aud fiepanUu tystvm ot wntiiiLr; 
but aj» he cou lined hini»elf uxrliraiiriHiJv io 
such tceneral iDtereacen h6 itie umient 
ftUthorilLes Aeomed to wiirniiiL, wittitfut 
iitt«i»|itin^ to Vitrify his tiuducliuns by a 
dirpct application to the Ktryptiwn monu- 
monti tht*n exbliui? in Eur^ptj, his i^nur 
id this rf>»p«cl is venialt Hud Lukutitted, in 
nn degTiae, lo liissfin our admiratioH of the 
nagacitg which led him to divinr a truth 
Bit Jar hfifjottd the reach of an ordinary 
mimd. Had WarburlunV prolotind re- 
mark been profteiiutfd ti» its (.oii«4<iju;euces, 
llie qumetio ve^ala of the E^ypliun hie- 
roglyphics would pruUally hitve b««ii re- 
•olrisd half a cwntury CHilii-r,' "—p. 107. 

And a liltle further on:— 

** • A very tmnory itii^pcctiaa of the 
|>illiir of Kodtittd viM§ sufficient to et^ub- 
lj»ti Hd intoutrovejliMe» Bixiiiip Warbur- 
lon'* profound observation^^ aliciidy iio- 
tic4Hli t/tat the hiert>tftfiphics vattgtitutcd a 
rtai writtett langvag*** " — p. I J h 

" Thf 4;imn orror, commTftffd in hwh 
direct pppubition to the rt*i\1 ^tnti* of the 
cnw [!]i may be fM«nd in ^lill laler puhli- 
cftliuiiB, thoutfh tl>*' miiifKi i^, pprhips 
fiot i»o fi^rcibly or »o fully instisled wpmi 
>» in the above exlrmt^ The iniHstal^i- 
ni«ul; ML'in^ tu hiive bfeti InuistnittcE] 
from one popular writer to ai)utb«r» ju»t 
M9 m forj^i^ baiik note somi' tinier p^i kites 
current through a number of hands with- 
out detection. But Hlthough I hiue ex- 
the /(trgertft i bavu not the k'iwt 



upon a inisapplicayun of ilie raeta- 
pK<tTic* illn^trHtion which I biid 



wish to hang the reviewer : the proba* 
bdity i^, that Jig totjk the n^)te from some 
one el««, and that \\\%/uult coimistcd only 
in vouching'' for its ijfoadness without auf- 
(icietit exnnuufition, auil in promoting 
ihu cin;ulutiou of bad pHp«r by some ad- 
ditions to it^ embdU»hix]dDt."^p. 7^-5. 

Immediately after this comes the 
fk'fince made by the chumpioo of 
ihe review, Lf*t (is examine its 
tnitiire and we ^hall find that \l rests 
upon a 
]>K<tTic» 

^t^'pn ; and the shallow snblerfujre of 
et nil vo(*n tine on the wtirdf*, written hu- 
gHfti;r ; it is conveyed in the following 
terms :^^ 

'" Th«* certain t if is* that the ri>vi<*wpr 
dk! not bin;? of the kind here imputpij lo 
him; and that if any one is to be hantred 
fr*r \fnrfjnfnfi' it must be Dr, Wall himself. 
The reviewer • tnok the note Irom' Bif^hop 
Wnrliur(:*in, u bo, in ihu Divine Lcfftftitm^ 
I'lrpv^^-.fy sxivB, in condudin^^' an eiiibonilft 
staiemont : * The Egyptians, therefore, 
employed, ns we say* the proper bieroirly- 
phii's In records, upetdf/ and plainitf [ntit 
»erj'»'lly or mvbttcaliy]^ thrir tfru^v^ pti/iric.v, 
piiidiC mumbit and hijitorif ; and, in a 
wi*rd, ALi- KrNDS or itvii. matpeiiik:* 
That i% tht^y enijdoyedl the hit-roijlypiiira 
ail * a wnUfn iaugtuive, upplicahk to the 
purpOkeii uf hiatoi'tj and common life, as 
well ai» lo th-'cie id' itli^ion mid niylbo' 
logy.* But if the Egyptians employed 
the sabred characters in the mHoner 
B^Bibop Warbiiiton desrnbes, und a* the 
reviewer lu^» bpecitkally and comprehen- 
sively tit*iies, oti his nuth*>rity, how could 
they possibly do so, «'X« vpt as • a rtal 
wntfn hmptngtf'?' U tlie*e charHclerR, 
tlm» employed, did not eotmlitute *a 
written hmgUHfre,' it would be curious to 
ascertain how the Egyptians could, by 
me»itis of tliem, * rerord openly and 
phiirdy their hiwa, policies, public morals, 
ntid history; in a word, all kindn of civil 
mitttcr<i/ la not tln^the peeulmr function, 
the vcrv object ami end of writing, what- 
«ver form it may ah»time ?'' 

In romtiifntin^ on tbiis defence, I 
rihsill, fi>r the suke of disiineinrHsi, euU 
the x<^iitleiinm 1 have now t*j doal wiih 



K 

mm th 



Pr Wjirburton wa» mistaken with respdct to every one of the three kind# of 
t«T« employed of old in Egyptian writing j lor he held that the cpisttolopmphic 
hiemtic chaiiitierB corrc'i»pundud in their powec;^ to ihe letters ol i+n idph;d»et, 
thut none of the hieroglyphs were ever used with any suidi pow«t"». lie was 
al*u mi^tukcn in many of the distinctions he drew between hieroglyphs, which not 
onl? are not warranted by any itufficient authority, but alio are incuu^iMtent with 
•neJi other. I tbontd not here notice the&Q fact^, if it were not that the air of su- 
perior koowled|!e, amumed l>y the rrviewer, render* it nere*>ary to •■bow ihv mid 
rxurat III hi* ijfnonince in a subject u^ion whicli be has «o dogmutiruUy diMioiled. 



J>r. WaWs Repfif to the Edinburgh Review* 



A, anrf the wTtter of the former article 
m ihfi review, B. Having' preniise^l 
this much, 1 \wg ihi* reader to ohserve 
that the spift^-nee whirh follows the 
expression prinifd in cupitul letters is 
not — as frt)m its poj^ition it has the 
Bppejimnce t*f\w'm^^-n fpiotaiion from 
Warhurton, but from B. So that the 
worJs^ writ ten hrtgtiage, are not ex- 
pressly used in the atiduced jjassage of 
the bishop, but roerelv in that of B, 
which h subjoined to the former as its 
parapliraise. The defence, then, which 
18 set lip for B in the application of 
the figurative case which I had put, 
fimoonts really to this, not that he \md 
taken the banknote from Warhurtorij 
but that he had taken it from himself 
— rather an odd way nf proving' that 
it was no labrication of his. But A is 
so angry [* iseems to wnte in a? g^reat a 
heat as if he had been disrus-sing: the 
theory of impersonal verbs, and had 
gotten the wor^t in the arpument/] 
that he has confonnded all the auulo- 
gies of tlie ca^e, and says that *4f any 
Dne is to he handed for the forgery, it 
nin:4t be Dr. Wall himselt?' What! 
baner the prosecutor! It wonld eer- 
tiiinly be a very strtinpe law by which 
that could be done. For my part, I 
should be sorry that either of ihe 
counsrd employed In this cau?e should 
be hanged ; but if (uie of us must 
Buffer, I submit to my learned opponent 
that he has the higher claim to this 
distinction, i^ince 1 have not, I trusty 
ejf^regiou^ly fulled in the discharge of 
my officfEil duty on the occasion, while 
he, on the other hand, by bundling the 
flefence, has actually injnred his own 
client, and niii<le out the offence com- 
mitted worse tlmn 1 had represented it. 
Dismissing- metaphor, 1 shall r^ow 
pniceed to consider ihe reasoiiintr 
which B has made use of. But first I 
mnst complain of a little want ^f ctin- 
dour on the part of my learned adver- 
sary ; Ibr^ after I had pointed out to 
tiie public the eross abj^nniity ol nttri- 
butmg- to Warhnrton any knowledge 
or even sniipieion of the phonetic nse 
made of hierosrlyphs by the Egyptians, 
he turn* round upon me, and, without 
acknmvtedjfinq: the source from which 
he got hi^ information, avails bim^self 
of it to deny thiit any one ever bad 
been g^uilty of this absurdity. He is 
8o eagcj tt» impre*-? the jmint upon the 
mind of his readers that he does not 
qtiotatioi 



[Jan. 1 

i upon I 
^ase in ■ 
'e will 1 



ever, that he and I are a^eed upon 
the hishop*s ignorance in the ease in 
question, as that cirrumslnnee will 
considerably shorten the present dii- 
cussion. It appears, then, that ihi< 
passage from Wartmrton which B has 
no ostentatiously quotetl in capitals 
and italics, really tells us tiotbing 
whatever that would lead to the tti»» 
covery of the fact that the Egyptians 
employed some of tbrir hierojglyph^ 
as letters; aud, after all, contains no 
more than a trite observation, nnidc 
many centuries before^^that these hie- 
roglyplks were used in records rntendeil 
to be read by the public as well as in 
the secret mysterious writiugs of the 
priests. 

In following up the Information 
thus arrived at, A argues that the 
words, written language^ in the pas- 
sages 1 have quoted from B, mean 
only writing in general without any 
reference to the parti c id ar nature of 
that writing. Here I differ eutirelr 
from the learned critic ; tlie fiai4t with 
which he has been supplied do not 
warrant any such position. He, bow- 
ever, goes yet further, for he insists 
that the words in f|uestion can never 
have any otlier than Ilie above general 
signification. But rlie reason he de- 
signs for this, showii that he is still 
very much in the dark upon the sub- 
ject J for according to his view of the 
case, all writing most be immediately 
connected with langnaffc, since it con 
be read out only through the mefltum 
of language. Now I readily admit 
that t h e e X p rettsi on , u *nittnt /ongfrnge^ i % 
often applied in a loose popular sense 
to ideagraphie writing, this deviation 
from strict accuracy being a very na- 
tural one for alphalxiie wi iters to fall 
into. Thus in books relatinti to China, 
one often meets with the expremun* 
the tmifkn ian^uftgc of the Chrntit, 
although the writing of this people 
may be uuder?*tood without any know- 
ledge of their Itingnage, The Chinese 
indeed read out their writing in Chi- 
nese ; but the Coreans^ and 1 mention 
them merely as affording: one out of 
many instances that might be given, 
read out the same writing in quite a 
different language, and understjind it, 
aithongh quite ignorant of Chinese. 
In like manner, as the hieroglyphic 
writing of the Egyptians is found upon 
monuments evidently intended for public 
records** in districts far to the south 



I 



I 



gives from my wu rk on the subject <5* Kgypt^ where there is no likelihood 
nut every now aud again interrupts me of the Egyptian language having been 
to repeat the denial. I am gbd* how- ir» conmton use, and Kpoken generally 



1837.] 



Dr. WaW$ Rephf to ike Edinburgh Review. 



by the inhabttant? ; we have reason to 
conclude, even from ihis ciroumstaiice 
Jilrme independent of a great many 
oihers, that the Ntibian, for instance, 
read the hiero^rlyphic inscriptions on 
the raonnraents in bis conntry in the 
Nubian la nonage, and understood them 
without a knowledge of the E^jyptian 
toiigne. Still K by no menus, oHject 
(t> the expression, writ fen iangim^e ft/ 
Ike Kgtffitinm, w^ applied loosely to 
their writing-, without being intended 
to indicate any tiling of its nature. 

But the question at issue is not at 
all how the words, wri/k-ti ianguage 
may be used ; but how they actually 
are used in the pais^ages I quoted from 
B. And here it is perfeotlv elear from 
the context (in sptte of iill the interpo- 
tatioQS and notes of admiration em- 
ployed by AX that tiiey are to be 
taken in their strict «en.«ip, ai^d denote 
a species of writings which has an im- 
mediiite reference to some one particular 
langiiag^e* and wiiich, there lore, must 
be alphabetic»or at least phoneric. At 
the time when B wrote Ids article on 
the Egyptian liieroglyphs» the learned 
world was imposed upon liy the boast- 
ing' pretensions of M. ChatnpoJlion, 
i»ho maintained that he had discovered 
the true method of deciphering those 
characters, and that the texts written 
in them were for the most part ulplia- 
hetic [I said wAo/lt/ phonetic in my 
former allusion to this subject, in which 
I was not strictly right, as Champol- 
lion admitted that sonic of the cha- 
racters arc idcagraphic ; and I am 
obliged to A for correcting^ my inac- 
curacy of expression in this instance, 
aUhou}?h I think he mi^ht us well 
have done so in terms le^s harsh]. By 
these pretensions the Edinburgh re- 
viewer* WCTC just as much imposed 
npnn as other people ; and B, parlici- 
jialin^^ in the general delusion, is loud 
m his praises of ChEimpollion's sup- 
posed discovpry of the phonetic nature 
of the old Egyptian writing. He is, 
however, not content with extolling 
the French author in a very extra vu- 
gAnt manner for a discovery which has 
never been made, but he forces in hy 
the head and shoulders Bishop War- 
burton for a share of the paneiryric ; 
and «[icdks of **the important ohtet'ca" 
imtt," made by the bishop which is 
**mfiif rifmpiet/it/ verified" namely, that 
the hieroglyphs **vonHUute a real 
wriltfH hh gunge ; in reference to 
which important observation he goes 
on lo *5ay : — 
** Had Warhiirton's prufouud ranurk 



b€€n pro«ecut6d to its consequences^ tha 
qucpstw vtxata of the Egyptian hieorc*- 
glyphics would probably have been re- 
solved half n century earlier." 

** A very cursory iuspection of the 
pillar of Rosetta was suffiripnt to estab- 
lish Rs inwntroveriihfef Bishop Warbur- 
ton*s prtifhtiiid obhcrvatinn^ already no^ 
ticed, thaf fhc hierogltfphks constituted a 
real written lunguagtt*" 

We are above told expressly, that 
the discovery of the phonetic signifi- 
cation of the Egyptian hieroglyphs, at 
which B 5upp<]sed Champoilion hud 
arrived, would have been maile long 
before, if a certain remark of Warbur- 
ton*s had been prosecuted to its conse- 
quence:*. Now, I request the render to 
examine this nrojmnd vb&crvatlon of the 
bishop, which has been quoted by A 
with ull the enj[»hasis that capitab and 
itiitics can give it; and when be has 
done so, I rather think he will concur 
with rne that it cannot possibly lead 
to Cbumpollion'a theory, unless M*e 
attribute to the words written language ^ 
(whicli have been subjoined by way of 
parapbriise) the ni tuning of alphabetic 
or phonetic svriting immediately ex- 
pressive of language. Indeed the 
whole drift of the reviewer's argument 
makes it as clear as dsLy, that the 
words in qnesriun must have been 
used by biiu in this sense. 

And here it is amusing to observe, 
that there is not the slightest con- 
nexion bptween the adduced passage 
of Warburtoii, unaceonipanied by iig 
jjaraphrase, and I tie position of Cham- 
poilion to svhich it is said to lead ; und 
the reviewer has placed himself iu 
somewhat a curious light by attempting 
to deduce the iatter from the former, 
the sole conntt ting link bt-ing one of 
his own manufacture. This link seems 
to have been very strangely introduced 
for the purpose of giving some pretext 
ii\T Bs praise of the bishop on account 
of the admirable " sagacity which led 
him to divine a truth so far beyond 
the reach of an ordinary niintr — a 
truth (as the reviewer is pleased to 
call it) of which the bishop never had 
the least conception. Chanjpolnt*n 
held that moat part of each of the 
hieroglvpliic legends is alphabetic ; 
Wtirburtcm, on the other hand^ thought 
it a tnanitcJ^L ab.surdiiy to suppose 
that any purt of them is i>f that 
nature. The opinion^ therefore, of 
liic English autbor, could never have 
led 10 that of the Frenchman, except 



r 

■ tliru 



Dt\ Malts Hfphf to the Edinburgh Ret'itfW* 



[Jan. 



tliroufjU the ingenious contrivance of 
ihe *' Edinhiir^b Review " 

A closes i]m part of his pubject 
wUK a lf>ntr r|uottitiun from Dii^hIcI 
Sfewajf. whiph is «ltojjether irrelevant. 
The f<»ii(lnp?s nf Scotch aurliors to 
quote from the litemry protluetions of 
their eoiiiiiTyineii» i^ nfieii the result of 
uri aniiiiltie feeilTij,:, vvhicli, when kept 
within duti huunils arid exereisetl ou 
fit occusionfl, i* rather creditable than 
<>tlierwb(?. But with all tlie resjjeet 
^vhich I etittMtain IW the Scotuh as a 
ikitioR — and no une iidmires more than 
r do their sterling worth ; thtir trallaut 
hoarini,'- abroad ; their love of pewee 
and ^ood order at home; their strict 
iiiteuriiy of j)riTiciple ; their attach- 
ment to the honour and the interests 
tif their country ;— yet 1 nnj^t suy tlmt 
the mode of ni oiifestiitg this las*t inen- 
tiuneil sentioieiit which is iido|jiteil by 
j-ume 4>f their writers, has a very ludi- 
eroti* a|n>earance. *rhe case heft>re 
us atibrd.-i. ;to anoi^'n>i4' illnst ration of 
ujy re in (irk ; for by I he way in winch 
tite critic han here ini!ul^**d his na- 
tioonl vunity he has been belrayed into 
a whole nittss M pneri lilies and incon- 
sistencies, Dnirald Stewart undoubl- 
edly was an able inetaphysieiao^ but 
he wu« totally igoonint tjf the ruanner 
ID which the E^yptikin hiero^irJypiis 
were significant, antl mlt he ever wrote 
would not, in tire remotest degree, 
tLSsisi Oi* to arrive at the nieauing of 
even one single iiieroglyphic character. 
Yet because he, in a certinin (lassage, 
alludes to Egyptiiin symbols, our 
Scotch eriiic, as if his imagination 
had been caught by a watchword^ 
f|Uotes and extrnvygantly pmises* the 
entire pus^nge -, although it neither 
has the least connexion with the poiiit 
nnder discnssion, nor conveys any in- 
formal ion of the i*lighlest value or 
interc!!!. The mi^in purport of this 
pu8?i!age IS contained in the twotbllow- 
ing sentences: — 

** Thf> symbolfl which still remain in 
that celehratcd country^ inscribed on 
etemnl monttmenls* fmve long lost tlin 
forre«pondi^nt minds which rtiftected 
upon th^m thi>ir own intellectunl attri- 
butes. To u* they are usidess Hnr| silent, 
and fterve only to attest tbi» existence ot 
iirtSt of which it is impossible to unriddle 
the nature and objects." 

If I rightly nnderslnnd these Fcn- 
fences, the first i>f them conveys h 
mere trnism — that the per^nrks whn 
foim*Tlv were able to reail the Egyp- 
tm\ hicroj^Iyphic records arc long 
nd the second tells ns 



I 



that the author not onlv did not bim- 
self know anything whatever of ihe^ 
signification of the symbols nlluded tOi 
ijut also that he considered the dc* 
ciphering' or unriddling them to be 
absolute impossibihtv. 

I now re<]U€9t the reader's atientiou 
to the Scotch commentary on th< 
above eitract, it runs in the followini 
errain :— 

*• This is the langUHge of a true phi- 
losophy r, who, even while hftpeless of 
ev*er si- cine the mystery unveiled^ com- 
prehends the true character of the dif- 
ficulty to be overcome, and perceiret 
tlmt * the symbols which still remain m 
thnt celLdirated conn try, inseribed on 
eternnl moiiuTnents,' mitrht again l>eicomff 
signtfieant and intelli^iblo if wo cout4i 
conjure up 'the correspondent mind 
which reflected upon them their owol 
intellectual attributes;' or iu other wordi|| 
if by some fortunate discovery, we should] 
over be enabled in some measure tol 
place ourselves in tlie situiition of tboMl 
*• minds^/ and to apply the principles oC<^ 
interpretation with which they were 
familiar. Nor is such a con summation 
at all beyond the limitjt of rational pro- 
bability. Enouf^h ha^ already been dont 
to warrant a wclUfonnded belief that 
more will ere loDg l>e achieved; and that«J 
by pur»uing a cautious inductive itiethodl 
ot investigation* the most untractabltl 
texts may at length be resolved. " 

Here, in the eagerness to give hii 
conn try man credit to which he was not 
at all entitled, the Scotchman contra- 
dicts liim^eEf; for he at first admits 
that Dugald Stewart was ** hopeleM of 
ever peeing tlie mystery unveiled ;** vet 
he afterwards, by a strange perver^ioii^H 
of this author's word^, attribute!^ to hiiii^| 
the penclrarion and sagacity of fore-^^ 
seeing the present state of the hiero- 
glvjihic problem, and the final »ucces»^_ 
of the investigation. By "^ the |>nn-^| 
ciples of interpretation,'' applied to the^l 
production of tids paraphrase, it is 
evident that our critic might extract 
any meaning he pleased out of tuiy 
assitrned propo*iition. Bishop War^ 
burton has sometimes so treated a 
Greek sentence, and taken chance for 
the reader's not going to the trouble of 
analysing the original and comparing 
it with his translntion, But it was 
reserved tor the Edinburgh Review to 
place an English passage before the^n 
English reader, and to attempt to im*^| 
po^e npirn hiin a meaning of it direclljr^^ 
the reverse nf ihe iruc one. Itpori 
the modesty of this attempt it 
iici'c«ieiary to dilate, and 1 sn%ll n 



I 



1837.] 



Di\ WaWs Rephf to the Edinburgh Review. 



71 



ohserve that in the course of my 
literary experience, I have scarcely 
ever met witii its parallel. The 
lanjruage of Stewart in the extract 
above given is not very clear, and so 
far it is unlike that of a ** true philoso- 
pher ;" but etiough may be collected 
from his expressions to render it per- 
fectly certain that he did not ** compre- 
hentf the true character of the difficulty 
to be overcoiuc" in the case referred 
to ; and that he did not " perceive," or 
even entertain the most distant hope 
that the Egyptian symbols ** might 
airaiu become significant and intelli- 
gible." 

The steadiness of this Review is 
pretty much on a par with the modesty 
displayed in it. in the Hrst article 
which A wrote upon hieroglyphs, 
(for I now drop the imaginary dis- 
tinction I made between the persons 
designated A and B, as there can be 
very little doubt of their identity,) he 
was quite in raptures at the abilities 
and success of Chamf>ollion, and talked 
t>f the qu€Bstio vexata respecting the 
Eeyptian hieroglyphs, as if it had been 
completely resolved by this writer. In 
a subsequent number, however, he 
quite altered his tone and declared : 

« It is high time, indeed, that the pub- 
lic mind were disabused of those extra- 
vagant notions with which the enthusi- 
asm o^ some, and the ignorance of others, 
have filled it on the subject of Egyptian 
literature — VoL Ivii, p. 461. 

«♦ He [Champollion] attributes values 
to signs denominated phonetic, which are 
not contained in his alphabet, and of which 
no account is given any where else. . . 
. . . . In the interpretation of ideo- 
graphic characters or symbols, he has 



adopted conjecturi*s and fancies of his 
own, without a tittle oi evidt* occ, or pvoa 
of probabdity to support them." — p. 475. 

But now he apprars to be relapsing 
into his first opinion, and tells us — 

<* Enough has already been done to 
warrant a well-founfied belief that more 
will ere long be achieved ; and that, by 
pursuing a cautious inductive mt^thod of 
investigation, the most untrHctable texts 
may at length be resolved." 

His description, indeed, of the 
method from the u«e of which a suc- 
cessful result mav he expected, doe« 
not at all accorci with that of Cham- 
pollion and his followers ; nor is it, I 
believe, by any of th^ir investigations 
that the idea of such a mKhod was sujf- 
gested to him. Still, however, the 
compliment conveyed in the above 
quotation, certainly was not intended 
for me, but must be referred to the 
phonetic system at present acted on, 
and consequently to its founder.* How 
soon A may, by the oscillations of his 
judtjfment respecting Champollion, be 
brought back aerain to the side of dis- 
approbation and distrust, I cannot 
venture to determine ; indeed, it ap- 
pt^ars to me as difficult and hopeless un 
undertaking to calculate the vibrations 
of this literary pendulum, as it would 
be to ascertain beforehand the various 
turnings of a weathercock. 



Business prevents my pursuing these 
observations any further at present. 
In a little time I hope to be able to 
resume the subject, and bring it tea 
conclusion. 



* Though Young was the original discoverer of the phonetic use of hieroglyphs 
made by the Egyptians, yet Champollion must be considered as the founder of the 
erroneous system now prevailing, in which the general text of the hieroglyphic 
records is assumed to be phonetic, since the former author did not approve of this 
system, but on the contrary held that the whole of the writing in question was idea- 
graphic, except merely the part of it applied to the designation of names inside the 
cartouches. Had Young made out the modes used for deuoting actions by means of 
these characters — had he understood the forms of expression which may from analogy 
be called the hieroglyphic verba — there can be liitle doubt but that he would have 
succeeded in deciphering the hieroglyphic part of the Rosetta inscription. But now 
I trust it will be found that the disadvantage under which he laboured in this resp^'t 
has been removed ; and, consequently, there is reason to hope that the working of 
the problem upon ri|;ht principles will be resumed, and thus at length be brought to 
a successful issue. 



Galkr^ of lUuHrkms hitfmwn, — No. Vj 



CALLER¥ OP iLLUSTRIOlfS IHISHMEN. — NO. FU. 



JAMES, EAftL OF CHARLEMONT.— PART IV, 



\ Irklanb was now an imippentlent na- 
( tion. Lord Charlemont's early tlay- 
I tiroams wens heyoml hh eipectationi, 
liealized. A combinatinn of circmn- 
1 stances stu'h as has never before oc- 
[ curred, and a constfr'Ilalion of ^reat 
I men, such as never bet'ore appeared 
tng-ethcr, eonipelled the Brili-^h inini^- 
f ter to strike the last link off' tfie chain 
I of reslrieUve lnws and usag-es ^y which 
this coiiiiLry liiid buen previously fet- 
tered, and to snrter its cxultunt leg'Ula- 
] turc to nut in tiie unaccustomed cn- 
Ijoyinent of an all but unrestricted free- 
dom* 

During- rhc firs^t excess of that haif- 
I fjTi^nzicd delight, by wtiich the nation 
' Vtts sei'/L'd» nought was (hon«-ht of but 
I tini verbal ^ratuliition. In the magical 
tvords of Grattaii, ** the country rose* 
Ims it were, from its bed, and got nearer 
I to the sun." A ad as he was the demi- 
[ffod by whom lU liberation was ef- 
I fee ted ^ he was treated almost wlrh 
divine honour'*. N<»r was it fortrotten 
.that his ilbstrious tViend was entitled 
to a large share of the acclamations 
with which the putriot was greeted, as, 
H'ithont his aid and patronaijc, he could 
not have taken his place in parliament. 
His boronirh inter#'3i Lord Charle- 
mont always considered a sacred trust, 
to be employed for the benefit of his 
cotjntry. Nevcr^ in any sinij;:le in- 
itance, was be known, or we believe, 
suspected to bestow his patronaije with 
reference to any personal advantage. 
And this disinterestedness, on his part, 
wws the more prai&ewonhy* because he 
_* ' in the midst of a very "crooked 
aitd perverse generation" of worldly 
politicians, whose maxims on snch sub- 
jects were the very reverse of his, and 
who, instead of employing' their power 
for the good of the country, were 
ready» at any uioment, to sacrifice the 
eounlry* for what, in their shortsighted- 
ness, they believed to be the good of 
themselves.* 

The Irish parliament never acted 
more fully in nr-conlance with the 
wishes of the Irish jieople, than wlum 
they conferred njiou their deliverer a 
donation of fifty thoui^and poundst 




Nor can we deny that it wm a suitable 
expression of national feciinjg, on fuch 
an oceaiiion, towards the tuiiii who was 
supposed to have laid anew the foun* 
dation, and thrown an impr«*giiable bul- 
wark around the citadel of consttlu- 
tional freedom. He was, himself, per- 
haps, the only individual in the o<iun> 
try by whom this grant was sincerely 
deprecated ; and, had it not beeu for 
the determination of his friends, it i» 
highly probable that it would have 
been declined. 

" Rtis|ie cling the grant,*' Lord Chiirle- 
mont writes to Ids friend Dr. HallidAy, 
**^ I know with certainty, that Gratbiii, 
though liC felt himself flattered by th« 
intention, looked upon the act with the 
deepest concern, and did all in his power 
to deprecate it. As it wns found tmpo»- 
gible to defeat the design, all hts friends* 
and I among others, were employed to 
lessen the sum. It was, accordingly, de» 
crca^LMl by on©-hftlf, and that, principally, 
by his pofiitive declaration through v», 
thfit, if tJte whole were insisted on» be 
wonld refuse all but a few hundreds, 
which he would retain as an honourable 
mark of the go<H3ness of his coon try.** 

But the days were coming, wbea 
both he and Lord CharlemonI were to 
experience something verj' different 
from the adulation bv which they were 
now surrounded. Inhere was a small, 
but active party, At the bead of whom 
was Mr. Hood^ who either felt, or 
pretended to feel, that the constitu- 
tional victory was as yet incompleti*.. 
and that the repeal of the sixth of 
(teorge the First, by which the usurp- 
ed authority of Engliuid was suffered 
to he for ever overthrown, must be re- 
garded as incomplete without a fortnat 
act of renunciation. 

We have, in former NuraherSj m 
ftdly ex pressed our own feelings upon 
the subject, that it must be needless, 
and it would, indeed, be unjustifiable 
to introduce any repetition of them 
here ; — and we shall only say, that the 
men who now started up to criticise 
the finished work of Gnittau, appeared 
in an invidious character, and timt^ ol- 



( 



I 



• ** Wliat I" said a popular orator, at a later period of our history, to one of thti 
ckiss, ** will you sell your country ?" " Sell my country !" was the reply, •* I am 
very glad to have a country to sell !" 



Itta?,] 



£arl of CftarkmoHt.^Pari IV. 



73 



Ihou^H their eloquence was powerful, 
tiiid their Jogic keen* yet their policy 
was questionable, and their view but 
narrowly bounded. 

But vain would have been uU the 
effort* of the cjiscoutented or the fac- 
lioua to disturb the happy unanimity 
which now prevailed in the iiattun res- 
pecting the completeness of their con- 
stitutional victory, if circumstances 
had not erieen which gave but too 
much plausibility to the reasouiiig by 
which they were supported. A deci- 
sion of Lord Mananeld, in the Kiiio:^ 
Bench, in En^laudt seemed to ufhrni 
the continued existence of ih^^i Jhreiffu 
judicature, against which suck an out- 
cry had been raised, and the establish- 
Euent of which was reg^arded as u most 
injurious and iosnlling^ usurpation. 
An act had» also, passed the British 
parliameut, regulating the importation of 
augar«*'todl hU majesty *s dominions;" 
and as the words were constroed so 
as to embrace Ireland, it was regarded 
9M an attempt to bind Ireland by En^- 
lUh statutes, — the very grievance which 
was supposed lo have been effectually 
redressed by the measure ^bich so 
grmciously conferred upon this cauntry 
perfect legislative freedom. And Lord 
Abingdon, a member of the British 
House of Lords, feeling, thuit, by the 
late concession, bis country was vir- 
tually divested of a sovereignty wliich 
she had exercised for nearly a thon» 
sand year;, gave notice, in that assem- 
bly of a bill, which it was his intention 
to introduce, and which would have for 
tCfi object the aflinning of the following 
»ropoii}tion, namely, *' that the kings of 
" igland being masters of the British 
as for eighteen ccniurie«, and liie 
Western Sea, which surrounded Ire- 
laud^ heionging to the kings of Eng- 
land, the British parliament has the 
aolc right lo make laws to regtitate the 
commerce of Ireland," 

There can be no donbt that Lord 
Abingdon was lully justified in con- 
tending for the position thus laid down. 
it was, in effect, no other than the 
position for which Selden contended 
aguinsl Grotius, and which the illustti- 
oni English antiquary established, lo 
the uiier confuniou of the DuuhmRn, 
and the •^ntite conviction of enlighten- 
eii Europe. But neither can there be 
liny doutit, thiit its aiscrtion, in the 
manner, and with the view now con- 
templated, would have humbled the 
pridt% and disappointed the expecta- 
lions of the Irish nuiriots, who juM\y 
conceived, tliat little would hiive been 



Wes! 



gained, if their power of external le- 
gislation was denied, and iheir hands 
continued t(» be shackled by the au- 
thority of a British parliament. 

Accordingly, an outcry was raised, 
which resounded from one extremity 
to the other of the kingdom. Never, 
probably, since Ireland was a nation, 
was tbc supposed treachery of Eng- 
land regarded with so hind or so una- 
nimous a fhout of execration* Flood 
was suddenly deified in the popular 
reg^ards ; and G rattan, all at once, 
hurled from that preeminence to wliirb, 
for bis recent splendid services, he had 
been exalted. Lord Churleiuont, now, 
for the first time, began to feel tlie dif- 
ficulties of managing a wayward and an 
excited people. All his popularity 
was not more than sufficient to endbrc 
hitn to maintain his ground against the 
lieady violence of those, who, but a 
little before, were his warmest and most 
devoted admirers, and whom, it may 
be, nothing but the influence which he 
still possessed prevented from rushing 
upon courses, which would have led 
directly lo civil war. 

In the iumnk of national gratitude, 
which was conseonent upon the ae<]ul- 
sition of their independence, the Irish 
parliament resolved to raise twenty 
thousand sailors for the British navy. 
As soon as Lord Abin^dotrs notice 
reached the country, an immediate 
check was given to this important ser- 
vice ; and the Volunteer corps in Dub- 
lin, which vi-ag under Lord Charle- 
mont's immediate command, entered 
inio very warm resolutions upon the 
suhjtfct, svhich were transmitted to his 
Lordship, who was then in the North 
of Ireland. We cannot better exhibit 
the dif^cnltics of his position than by 
extracting from the work of Mr- 
Hardy, his answer to their communi- 
cation. It is distinguished by mildness 
and prudence ; and while the refrac- 
tory, no doubt, to a certain degree, ac- 
knoviledged bis influence, be could not 
but feel that it was no longer unbound- 
ed I — 

<t Sib, — However I may disapprove of 
the Ttfftolutions which yoa sent me in- 
closed, I cnnnot but thank the genllemen 
of the corps for their kind conduct with 
regard to me; and you, for the politeuesa 
of your letter. Your wish to apply to 
me for my approbation, was all th« com- 
pliment I had any right to expect, and, 
in my unlucky abscncej an npplicatioo to 
your lieuteniint-coloncl was right and 
prc'per. It hapjjens, howevtir^ unfort^f. 
nattily tliat in ihh instance, my senti- 



74 



GaUertf of IHustrioius Irbthtn^n. — No* VI L 



[Jati. 



mcril8 and tho*e of Colonel Flood, wliicli 
liHVc ustually lji>t>ii siniilBf* BSi^eutiHlly dif- 
Ivry and I tiuit tlittt, Itiul I been in town» 
I sibobjld liuvti {men nble to have urgtid 
BUch siijfurutnts sis would have pieviiutod 
A furwetitlintr* which, coming from a corp-j 
tliiiL I have lliB liouuur lo cummand, Las, 
I copft^at ^nvtm me much unen^iiiess^ In 
thw pfsrpeiuHil hurry ot j«y present oicu- 
pillUoiis, it ia imjrosailde fcjr me to detail 

jtfjpon p^pi^r, the mnuy reai»uns which, in 
tny opiniun, un^'lit to have induced you 
at least to suspend your resolution, I 
»hall, therefore, content myself for the 
present with saying, that tlii^i country 
would indeed be in a condition rakeitiWy 
prf mrious and humiliRtinjj, if eviry rash 
expression, which may fal! from aiiy im- 
pniident inriivldunU should be able to 
cbnnp^H our sptitimentB* shake ourdtiter- 
»ninali»ns, and, by t'Xeitin^ our jealou- 
ftie^T to disturb the national confidence 
!ind tranquillity. Is it reasoDahle to ex- 
pect, or possible to suppose, that the 
whole pi'tiple wf Great Britain shouldj in 
Hny ftentinjeiit whatever, be perfectly 
uminimous ; or tlutt, in it populous na- 
tit*J», there stkould imt nrha »ome unrea^ 
tionablu individuals who will give vent to 
their pas&ions, and msike tj^e of their pri* 
vitego of Bpeakiiii:* lo declare their crude 
ideas, iu cuntradiction to the jirenerjlly 
received opinions and resolves ? And 
bhttll we suffer ourselves to be agitated 
by their wild aupgt'htioria ? Shall a peo^ 
pie, such Bs we have shown oiiraelves» 
forfeit our diameter of steadines^i, and 
veer at the slight impulse of every breath 
of discontent ? but it will be suid, tbut 
the speech of Lord Abingdon rjught to 
be replied to ; and so it was in the most 
proper and explicit manner As no mo- 
tion whatsoever was made, no debate 
could nrisB ; but the Chancellor asked 
Lord Abing^ilon if be intended to make 
any motion? For that if he did, such 
motion would be oppni^d. In conse- 
tjuence of thiB, Lord Abing^don pocketed 
his billi and it does not even lie upoti the 
table. Such i§ the trans^iction which hns 

t giwtn you so much disquiet ! Stich is the 
transaction which Ims agitated the minds 
of meu, upon whom a great nation relies 
for support. Such is the trRnsnction 
which has induced you to diiclnim pro- 
i^eedin^ in a service to which the nation 
is pledged both by honour and interest, 
A MTvice, essentially necessary to your* 
s^jlves, as the only intent of the present 
levy is, to man the Channel Fleet for 
the defence of your own coast, as well 
as that of Great Britiuu, and to enable 
us to cope with our iuvetemte enemies in 
those seas, wliere their decided superi- 
ority must necessarily end hi itiva^iun. 
But I did not mean lo suy so much, and 



I 



have not now leisure to write mons FB' 
deed, even what I have writlen \iAst b«ra 
injured by frequent interruptions. I 
fcltall only odd, that from my heart I dist- 
claim with you all distinction between 
external and internal legislation, Mttd 
shall at all times equally «ippose by e^-'ery 
possjblfl means, every attempt which nmy 
be made to legislate lor us, either exter- 
nally or internally. But I will not 
madly suppose any such attempt, and tdl 
it sbiill be m^de, which I trust will ntfVer 
be the cnset 1 will remain iti perfect irwo- 
quillity, do my utmost to promote the 
sectirily anil Wi^lfare, both of^ Ireland and 
the empire at bir^e^ ^treiiuthen thUcouii- 
try and ln?r cnnstitiilion with all my ef- 
forts, and <]uietly res»t upon my arms. 

** From what I have now said, you. 
will readily conceive bow uneasy yuur 
resolution lias mmde nn\ uiid how happy 
J shun Id be, that a **'rvice which 1 um 
here endeavouring to forwards shonld 
equally succeed every where, and more 
especially in a, corps, which I have the 
honour of peculiarly calling my owi»; 
the credit of which is, in my opinion, in 
this insitancet es-.enliHlly cuycerned, and 
which 1 am bnuiid to love by every mo- 
tive of gratitudu nud esteem, 

" 1 am, sir, 

'• Vour must obediBOt, humble servanti 

♦* C'HAIlLEMOSfT.'* 

Here wc fchall unly i^ay. that tlic 
right of Eiijf land to i"Xf*rcise mi ;iutlio- 
riiy over the ctunriiercial euntrr^nis of 
Irclaucj, in all that rcfutt.d ti> our ititcf- 
c<>urse with the colonies, was a direct 
corollary from 'lu^r jufvenignit/ of the 
geas I and that Ireland could* oti ly be 
enabled to participate in that sove- ■ 
reigiity, by btfcoining amenable to the I 
sante reguLitions, and subject to the ■ 
Sijiue restrictions which were deemed 
expedietit or iiecfssary in every other 
portion nf the eFiipifc* Ireland, it 
must be held iu 'mind, now claimed the 
privileges which it enjoyed, m an ind^ 
pendent Aingdom, And, as such, it 
ci>uld have no more claim to an inter* 
fereuce with the peculiar and distin- 
guishing prerogative of Great Britain, 
than FniJice, or Spain, or Portugal, or 
any other iudependeut atale. The 
claim which it did t^ai up, aiuounted, 
in fdct% lo a claim to legislate exter- 
nally for Great Britain, while it was 
disguised, by the popular orat4>r5, un- 
der the appearance of resistance to an 
attempt, on the piirt of Great Britain, 
to legislate cxleroally for it ; — and, if 
adniilted, would iimounl to tlij surren- 
der of a privilege which the kings and 



I 
I 



I 



1837.] Earl of CharlenwnL-^Part IV. 75 

the parliaments of England had proud- the celebrated coalition administration, 
)y asserted, in the worst of times, in which Lord North and Mr. Fox 
acrainst the combined hostility of the were drawn into a forced, an unnatural 
princes and potentates of Europe, alliance. Lord Charlemont was deeply 
When Lord Cnarlemont and his friend affected by the loss of his distinguish- 
contended that this claim was founded ed friend, which he lamented equally 
in justice, and sanctioned by policy, upon public and upon private grounds, 
we do conceive that there were no and never ceased to regard it as an 
premises from which they could fairly event most calamitous to the empire, 
draw any such conclusions ; and that We consider his estimate of that ami- 
their pressure upon the British minis- able nobleman overcharged, but can 
ter, on that occasion, gave him the first well believe there was much to justify 
sicrnificant intimation, that the difficul- his love and admiration. He gave ex- 
ties which the question involved were pression to his feelings in a warm pa- 
such as could be settled alone by a le- negyric, which he composed as an in- 
gisfative union. scription for a bust of bis noble friend. 
The death of the Marquis of Rock- which he set up in Charlemont-house, 
iiilirham led to a partial change in the and which we subjoin below, for the 
ministry, and gave rise, in the end, to gratification of our readers.* 



•**The most noble, Charles Watson Wentworth, 

Marquis of Rockingham, 

On whose Character, 

A consciousness of partiality would prevent my expatiating. 

If I were not confident, 

That the utmost ardour of friendship may be necessary 

To give warmth to a delineation. 

Which, even thus inspired, must fall far short of his merits. 

Genuine patriotism, unshaken fortitude, 

And immaculate honour. 

Dignified his public conduct. 

While his private life 

Was marked, adorned, and sweetened 

By every elegance of taste, 

By all the tender endearments of friendship, 

And by the constant practice of every social duty. 

A Patron of all the Arts, useful and ornamental. 

His Perspicuity discovered. 

His Influence protected, his Liberality encouraged. 

His Courtesy distinguished, and animated 

Innumerable Votaries to true Genius, 

Whose modest Merit might otherwise have been concealed. 

And lost to theur Country. 

As a Minister, \ 

History will best speak his Praise. 

He rescued the Dominions committed to his charge, 

From the rage of Faction, 

And the destructive tendency of Unconstitutional Principles ; 

Id his first Administration, 

His Conciliatory Endeavours were effectual 

To the Restoration of Harmony 

Between Great Britain and her Colonies ; 

Which Blessing was, however, quickly forfeited 

By a fatal change of men and measures. 

Public Necessity 



76 



Gallery of Illustrious IrUhmen. — No. VII. 



[J*n. 



The VoJunteers still continued to be 
regarded* by tlie people, wiih unrt'- 

I teived delight, and by the g-overnraent 
with secret apiirehenslon ; and an ejt- 

I pedient was dtviseil, by vvhicli, if it 

' succeeded, their conseijuenct? might 
have been overthrown. A deficiency 

, in the regulated number of troops tot 
the public service, gave plausibility to 
a proposal, on the part ol government, 
to raise fonr pnivineial rei^:iments, of 
one thousand men each, fur tliree ycar«, 

' or for the war^ to be officered by Irish 
gentlemen, " who were to receive rank 
according to the men they raised, and 
not to be sent out of Ireland," The 
plan was submittt^d to Lord Charle- 
tnont, and he was told, otEcially, tiiat 
lie might coraminid the whole, or any 
part of the troops thus proposed to be 
raised, with the rank of major-general. 
The command, be at once, and posi- 
tively, declined ; and the whole plan 
appeared to him either impracticable 
or objectionable, npon the most mature 
consideration. The following obser- 
vations on the subject, which we ex- 
tract from Mr, Hurdy, are equally cre- 



ditable to bis candor and his sagsci^. 
He observed that,— 

** The Volunteers would utidoubteillr 
regard it, not us nn oblique, but very di- 
rect effort, to underminG tbetn : and coo- 
sideritig their atarnty and ea^ernev to 
mtict tiiti common foe, why not call oi 
them a|)^in, if it was necessary ? Thoti 
if from such an army, some danger wai 
apprehf'iidfd, thnt danger would not bo 
dimiuished by depriving them of officdrs 
of ex peritonea and moderation, who had 
acquired an uadoubted influence over them, 
and by thnt inf^ui^nce controlled inaaj 
occRsioual irregulanties. Who woald 
th<ju command them? Assuredly they 
would not disband tUeraselves? and the 
moat unprincipled, dangerous men in the 
kinf^dom might, in Etn evil hour, become 
their leaders. That if young officerf 
were to be taken from the volnnteer 
army, neither they nor the men could lie 
of much use, as, in all pobability, the 
war would lie over before either soldier 
or Bubalttirn were disciplined. For any 
present purpose, therefore, tliey would bi 
intffljeiciit, and any distant purpose could 
bnrdly be brought into contetnplalion^ 



I 



And the Voice of the People, 

Again called him to the helm of the sinking State* 

Whicb, though now reduced to the last eiitremity, 

By weak and evil governance. 

Was saved from impendinj^ destruction, 

By his persevering skill and courage. 

The most jnrring and discordant spirits 

Were harmonised and kept togetIier» 

By the love of his person, the reverence ibr kis CImractcr, 

And the universal confidence in hb honesty* 

Upon him, as the g^reat centre of attraction. 

The confidence, and conse^juent safety of the whole depended. 

He luuiid the Empire utvolved in the fatal conset^uences 

Ur t^burt-sigUied, nrbitrnry, nnd tyrannic Policy^ 

When, follow log the dictates of wisdom^ 

And of justice. 

He {^ve peace and aecnrity to his Natiro Land, 

Liberty to AmGrica, 

And coinciding with the unpaniUclGd eifiirts 

Ot her virtuous sons, 

Restored her rights to Ereland. 

As his lite wna the support, 

His death had nearly been the ruin 

Of the British Kmpire, 

As if his lamenting Country 

Had been loth to survive her darling SoOj 

Her friend, her benefactor, her preserver. 

M. S. P. 

CHARLEMONT. 



1837.] 



Earl of CharUmont—Part iV. 



77 



iiord CKarlemont added, that he ima- 
fCiiMil hit predictions respecting the ^- 
moiib general odjum atlendnnt on the 
plan* would be found out the ]es» true, 
iMcauM the Lord Liey tenant might havt; 
maoy applications fur com mi anions ; he 
would, uuJoubleill]^, have many, and 
when Tunk Hnd motiey were to he had, 
be knew not thnt country » especially one 
drcumsianced as Ireland was, where s-i- 
milsr application! would not be iihun- 
dAnt, Such were, in part, Lord Chiir- 
lemont'f- objection* ; but it seem* they 
were not regarded as of sufficient weight 
to occasion an immediate extinction of 
lhi» plBii» for, whilst reviewing the south- 
ern army Ht Cork, he heard that it had 
been carri«*d into execution, nnd all the 
oflSoer» taken from the Volunteers. Thftt 
bodv iMH'ame otttni;^€Dus, nod the people 
fympttthizing with them, the general in* 
digoMtion overflowed hU bounds. 

*< Thb took place in the summer of 
1 782, a« 1 have stated, but so ixed was 
the popular abhorreoce of the fencible 
acheme, that on t)va di»olutioa of parlia- 
tneut* in the euBuiog' year, some members 
loet their «eats, in consequence of nccept- 
ine fencible commi*4io»i*, A circum- 
stance occurred, which it is the duty of 
an historian to mention. Wtien Lord 
Charlemont again waited on the Lord 
Liieutenant, he lamented tliat he wad so 
good a propheti for the fencihles had cre- 
ated more disturbance than he had even 
ventured to foretel ; hut be^ifcd leave, at 
t)ie wme time, to ask the Duke, if his 
prediclioo waj not equally outstrippeiJ in 
the number of applications which had 
bifn r«?ceived? ' Certainly/ replied his 
Grace ; * I have had, at the le»st^ a hun- 
dred and fifty applications; and some 
persons, whom I was ohli|;ed to rt'fuise, 
hnve been the mo»t outraji^eouBly nbui'ive 
of the fendhles, and decried the pliin in- 
Hnitely more than ita onginal enemies. 
The Volunteers are all content Bud mild- 
ness compared to them.' " 

Lord Temple had now succeeded the 
Dukeof Portland, He was accompanied 
as secretary by his brother, Mr, (after- 
warda Lord) Grenville; and the most 
iis&iiiuous court waii puid to Lord Char- 
tcmotit, a« the individual by svhose 
cuuiitoniince and aid they nii;^ht best 
iiigr^tiiite theoiselves with the putri- 
oC«e members. The honorable secre- 
tafy seemed bent upon disiinguishing 
htmaetr by hunting out the makersa- 
fiont of various conspicuous indivj. 
dual A, in the maoy board.«, and com* 
misshms of excise, and revenue, and 
public works which w^ere at that time 
ill Irtdund ; and some very flagrant 
cjtie* of delinquency were, no dou^jt. 



broBght to light, and no power of bo- 
rnujf h putronMge was siiffieieiit to screen 
thf delinquents. But this was a sort 
of political flea-killing, with which, 
niider ordinary circumstance?, the peo- 
ple would have been Hnin«ied, and by 
which they might have been jfUlisHed, 
Now, however, higher game was In 
view, and the Lord Lientenant and liiw 
St?cretary derived comparLitively little 
pnlilica! profit from their innocent 
annisement. 

In reply to a letter from the Lord 
Lieutenant, soliciling his support, Lord 
CliHrlemont» alluding to the Duke uf 
Foriland, observes: — 

« If aiiy thing however could console 
118^ for stich a loss, it would be the cha- 
riicter of the nohle person who is des- 
tined to succeed him i a con^oUtiiou, 
which lEf greatly Increased by tlie sentt- 
meats conveyed lu your lordship'^ letter. 
With such a pledge of your tincenty, I 
CAUHot doybt, or fi'ar; and sbail only 
add, that as, notwithstanding my opinion 
of, and my good wishes tor the Duke of 
Portland, his conduct was the only thiug 
ttiBt insured to him my fttipport ; in the 
same manner, and on the ^ame account 
only, will your lordthip b« certAin to re- 
ceive it. With every acknowledgment 
of your goodness towards me, and every 
good witih for the happiness of your fu- 
ture govern m en ty 

'* I have the honour to be* 
»* My Lord, &c. ike. 
" CHABLEiiorrr/* 

It was during the viceroy alty of this 
nrddenian, that the order of the Knights 
of St. Patrick was instituted, h was 
intended. Lord Temple observes, in a 
letter to Lord Charlemont, as a mea- 
lonvey, 
whieti 
entertained of the present respectable 
situaiioD of the kingdom ; and he add? 
a wish, couched in very flattering 
words, that Lord Charlemont would 
permit himself to be nonnrivued 
amongst those who were then deemed 
most worthy of that honnurable dis- 
tinetinn. (Jratifying as this proposal 
was, be hesiiated long before he ac- 
ceded to it. Against the order itself, 
he eoiild see no ohjectron ; and the 
time cho-ien for creating it. was of all 
others, the most fitting. But he knew 
nid how b«r bi'* poliiiciil indeiiendcnre 
might not, in the eye* td' many, be euni- 
promised, by receiving sueli a favour 
at the hands of government j and he 
was not the man who could consent, 
even in the remotest de^ee, to risk 



sure calculated to convey, to his Irish 
subject!*, the sense whieti his majesty 



7:^ 



Gallery of lUmiriaus Irukmenu — No* VII. 



[Jmu 



bis public iist^fulne^s, by any prospect 
I tif persoim! aiivantage. In the end, 
' however, hia s^iTUples g^ave way, a», in- 
deetl, they shotild never liuvt^ been en- 
tertaincii ; and tlie Voluntoera, whose 
, luspicioiis, it wus feared, ruijrht be ex- 
I ciletJ hy tiic circum.*ti*rH'p, " exulted in 
his pmroyliori, and universally de- 
clared, thai they never would have 
pardoned a sroveruinerit, which, in such 
[ an ifi^ititutiunY could have outiUed 
1 him,"* 

This took place in J 783. The IbU 
lowing extract Irom n letter, written 
about two ye«r» ait ci wards, to Lord 
Charlemont» by Horace Walpole, con* 
taius a sufrgCiiticjn. wbieb, for the sake 
I of the arts, it is to be regretted was 
^ not at th»t time adopt*>d :— 

"Strawlierrj.Hm, Ntiv.23, 1785, 

" Ai your Lordship hns g^iveu me tbis 
I opportunity, I caaaot resist saying, what 
' I wHii excetjciing-ly tempted to mention 
rtwo or threu years ago, but had not the 
onSdencfi. fn sl*ort» my Lord, when the 
porder of St. Patrick was instittttiid, I 
bad a mind to hint to your Lord&hip, 
{that it was exactly the moment for seiz- 
I ing an occasion that tiad bt'eii irr<5trievably 
FJott to this country. When I was at 
I Paris, I found in the convent of Les 
[Grands Augustine three vn&t chambera 
filled with the portraits (and iheir uames 
and titles henealht) of all the Knights of 
the St. E!«prit, from the foundation of 
the order. Every new knight, with few 
exceptioDSf ^ives his own portrait on his 
creation. Of the order ot St, Patrick, I 
think hut one founder is dend yet» and tiia 
picture perhaps may hfl retrieved. I will 
not make any apoloi^y to so good a pa- 
triot an your Lordship, for propo^aing a 
plan thrtt t**nds to thehonour of his coun- 
try, w^hich I will presume to call mine 
too, as it is so both by anion and my affec- 
tion for it. I sh<»uld wish the name of 
the painter inscribed too, which would 
excite emnl Uion in your artisis. But it 
is aiinf;r{'t'»arv to dilate on the subjec^t to 
yottr Lnrdship, who, a* a patron of the 
arts, as well m a patriot, will improve on 
my imperfect thought!*, nnd, if you ap. 
prove of them, can give tiiu^m «taiiiUty* 
** * I have the honour tf» b«% &c.* 

" Hoa. Walpolc.." 

Mr. Hardy tells \i% t^at Lord CWax- 
lemont himscU' l>erorc the reci ipt i»f 
this letter, entertained a similar idea ; 
which would, had the ^tale of the 
country, or bb own position, been more 



favourable lo the prosecution of th^ 
reliueiJ aud peaceful enjoymenl* which 
he loved, have been, no doubt realiEed« 
Ab it was, he felt the calls upon his 
time, from the numerous and aiBtracU 
ing avocaticms which had claims upon 
him, quite its many aa he had strength 
to answer, — and any serious attempt to 
accomplish this uatioual object, was, of 
necessity, laid aside, although, from 
some memoranda, which were found 
ainoiigt^t \m papers, it is very clear that 
he was euiitled to the praise of good 
iutention^. 

Lord Temple did not remain quite a 
year in the lri«ih viceroyalty, and was 
succeeded by the Karl u\' Northington. 
Now had commfr'ticed tlie coalition mi- 
nistry, who fondly hoped, by ihc 
united intiuencc of the respective lea- 
ders, Lord North and Mr. Fox, to bear 
down aJl o]>po9ition, and to combine 
the suflTrages fd' almost every das* of 
Englishmen, in favour of the continu* 
aucc of their administration. But, as 
Switb ^aid of ill-considered taicatioii, 
that two and two often only make p»r, 
so might it be said of this combiuariun 
of opposites, which operated upon each 
other according to the rule of subtMC* 
tion, not of addition, and led to a com- 
mou result* in which each was rendered 
nearly powerless. In Ireland, Barry 
Yelverton, a pfjpular name, was pro- 
moted to the office of Chief Baron^ 
but only to make way for Fitzgibbon, 
who succeeded to the place of Attorney 
General. Scot, also» wa^ again taken 
into power, and soon became more 
powerful than ever; and, altogether, 
the divisirm of the loaves and Hsbe« 
amongst the partizans on both sides, 
seenn^d to indicate a di^posttion on the 
jiart of ministers, to gull the popular 
leaders by honours and emolument*, 
while tlieir adversaries, who hud now 
determined to make a 4»tand against the 
innovating S[nrit of the times, were put 
in pos<iession of the more substantial 
advantages. The fo>i owing letter from 
Lord Northiugton rviiiees the high 
respect which he entertained for the 
subject of this sketch : — 

*^ Dublin Dutle, MondAy Eveniiig, 
** I much disappointed to tiad, after 
the liberty I had taken to desire your 
Lordfihip'ji ad\Hce in private, upon a for- 
mer occasion, that I wai not to expect to 
receive it in a more public manner. As 
I am sure it will not only contribute 



r 



I 8370 



Earl of C/tarlemonL — Pari I V~ 



7y 



mudi lo the Honour of my adminbtm- 
tiooj but W of esst^atiat service to Llie af- 
fair* of lliia Uin|fili>m, to liave the aJvao- 
t^jfe of your L^'nl^hip's coiinriU, I Rm to 
requifit of your I^ordsliip to allow me to 
renoove the impedimentt an<l irivf me 
leave to havd the honour of submitting' 
your name for hiw Maji>atT'« jyrBcious coo- 
Aideiition, to lie placed aa one of the Ftivy 
Council of this kin^dora. hit will h« n 
' ineiifiurc agreeable to your Lord»hJpr I 
I 1 » ha 11 have the hi^'^hes^t satj^fnc'tioii in 
I »bewing your LoriJiihip this mark uf my 
I ififirem ajid regurd. 
f *• ' Being, with ^reat e«teemr 

^^^ " » My Lord, your most, Bcc* 

^^H » * NORTHINGTON.' " 

Tn this T.onl Charlcnnuiit ininirdi* 
ately replied : — 

*' That although he hiid not thought 
of requeftting Huch a. favour, he eoiild ticit 
decline a coii)|*liment so politely offered 
lo biro. One condition, however, be 
begged to propose, that Mr, Grattuiii with 
whom, close as was their politicni UDioHr 
he was still more closely alli*'d by friend- 
ihip, ahouU be recommended, at the *anie 
lime, for a seat in the privy tounril, 
otherwUe he *hould» althouEch with not 
leu gnteful respect to the Lord Lieu- 
tenant, totally relinquish the proposaL"* 

This condition, so honourable to 
Lord Cburlemunt, h*»s promptly and 
cordiiilly acet-ded to by his E)teelh*ncy; 
ami Uie Irish people wert' grutihed at 
s€citig^ their ti^o most incorruptible j^h- 
tri<)i8 eorollt'd amongst th« nunibt^r uf 
hill M^ijesiy's constitutional advisers, 

li wtts during thii administration 
that the celebrated ccinvention was 
held in Dublin, in which the indiscre- 
tion, (to c»U it nu worse nauir,) of tlie 
popular advoeulci^, hir the first time 
opened the eyes of tlie nfltion to the 
danger of a military aHscnibly, and led 
to the downfall of the Volunteers. 
Afti?r every ooii-siirutinnal grii-vance 
tiaii been redreased, and a declanition 
had received the sanction of parliii- 
metit. that Udiiiiu^ eould, ihci.cefnr- 
wrnrd, tiilcnitpl IIm^ haruiony which ex- 
iMed brlwii'ti Great Hriliiin utid Ire- 
Iniid, that poweiUil body, who felt that 
lo their en"r/y was iiwinir the conces- 
sions wh'ch had been made, alfW'ted 
t*i detm tbestf concessions insecure, 
iiidei«s they were followed by a reform 
in parfiament. For tbifi purpose, nn- 
nierous deputies from their body ns- 



senibled in Dun^nnon, and eume to a 
rcMdution expressive of tlicir detenni- 
n Lit ion to bold a convention in Dublin, 
in whicli the Volunteers niighl be fnlly 
re I* resented by dclci^atea, chosen by 
their sever ul corps, who ini^bt sit and 
deliberate upon the best means of clit- 
ryio^ into effect their iiii|jortunt ob- 
ject. 

Althongh it was very well known 
tluil Loril Cbarlemont inclined a^^ain^t 
thtr extreme!* to wliicb uiuiiy were now 
about to push matters It could ni>t be 
thiit the i>pimon of one whose ^tulion 
nnd cbi^racter etiiilh^d him t«> so murh 
df. If re I ice, uhoold lie abua-ither ne- 
glected. He was, tberetoie, cun^tdtetl 
by tlu^ Volnnteer* of Uelfust, previ* 
oni^ly to the meetiii;^ at Dtingannon, 
and allied to point out sonjc specific 
plan of reform, to be recommended to 
thf? Cf>ii>ideniHon of piirliument. The 
tolloWTUff is an extract from the answer 
which he relnrned to this solicit a liou, 
and clearly shows bow little he sym- 
pathised with the di?sxtisfied spirits 
who now began lo exercise a pernici- 
ou!i influence over the ]*eople. 

*' A refonn in the repre«eiitatior» of 
Ireland is a ineaMire which most eertainly 
meets, with my warmest approbation, iind 
yon may be as^^ured that 1 »hall eo-oper- 
lite with every sinrere lover ot \m coun- 
try, towards the Rttnininent of that de. 
sirable object ; btit to point out a sperilic 
mode, is a mittter of so difticuVt a nature, 
that I should inteem myelf preaumptii- 
o us, if I (jbiiuld attempt it — certain hs I 
nm^tbttit wdl rn^uire ibi* united etfor I h 
and the nioiit debh*trate ron»idenitkm of 
the wi^eH men in thi^i knuidnm. to pro- 
duce such a plan as may be deemed un- 
exceptionablw. The phdn, liuweven which 
I must at all times feel from b»^iu«^ vmn- 
pelled to refuse my immediate compli- 
ance with any request of your's, is in the 
present instnnre somewhat alleviiited, by 
my being rlearly of opinion that it is not 
now nece&sary that surh mtKle should he 
pointed out to you ; and ^ince you have 
been pleased to ask my advice, permit nie, 
as a ^fincere friend to the object of our 
mutual wiahes, to advice that» at the 
Dun|L,^annon meeting, the measure alone 
should be rocomnieudedi without specify- 
ing any mode whatsoever ; w hich last 
consideration ought, ttccordin^'' to the best 
of my judgment, to be left entirelf/ lo the 
mature deliberation of yoxtr pnriiamenU 
and particularly of those rrprenentatives 
whom you are now about to ehuse," 



'Hardy, vol. J J. p. 84. 



80 



Galkrtf af lUnstriout Irishmen, Na* VIL 



l^m\. 



This was good ad?ice, but, had it 
been adopted, the doom of the vuIud- 
teeis would not have been so speedily 
i«tled ; and their extinetion was now 
as necessury for national repose, as 
c*ver their emlmdyinif had buen for 
riatiotiul honour or nuiiondl satV-ty. 

It was^ijot without coijsichrndjhMiiis- 
E*ivhi«:s that Lord Charleriiont Riitiered 
riimselfta be rhosen as oueofthedf^- 
legalt'9 to the convention. Bnt he 
deemed it nect^ssary that whatever now 
existed of virtne or of niocJerntion 
ainnnjjst I lie a^^erfors ^jf the peoph^'s 
rig^hb^, should assrmlde and use aU 
tUeir inHapnce for ihe purpose of im- 
pOAin^ snniL* salutary cherk npon ihe 
violence ol those from whose extra- 
vagances Kiost ilisasirnui$ resnlts ini^hl 
be expected. With the same view he 
previiilc?d ufioii several of his friends to 
foiiBL'nt to be fnvinitiatiMl ^^^ his as^o- 
riates ; auihby their aid, he honied tliat 
the assembly about to be called to- 
gether mifrbt be made to a^isume a 
constitnttonal asptct, and tiiat iiny 
serious danger to be apprehended from 
it mi^ht he asserted, even ihoug^h be 
should not be able 

'* To nxiofHlie the nvflu ijkiwii 
or blackness 'tm it sznUed." 

HiB private opiiiioti wus decidedly 
asruinst the htdding any snch conven- 
tion ; but in that hccoiild not prevail ;^— 
and he re'?oIved, as he thought, patri- 
oticaily, to encounter its perik, in the 
hope that, by so doing-, he niigrht best 
miltgate its evils A fcarfut alterna- 
tive \ by which popular leaders must 
()fi«^n he emburra^s(*ii, when the spirit 
which they have excited has <>iice 
passed the tiinirs wiihin which they 
would fain have it restrained, and wlicu 
it may become as iierniciooB in its ex- 
ec&9, a» it nii^ht have been salutary in 
its moderation. 

The eonvtmtion had now assembled, 
and Lord (Jharleniont was choi^eri lo 
preside over their detibernuoiis. This 
was an im|mttartt )M>int grained, for hi.^ 
rival, ihe Bishop of DtMTy» wonhl have 
valued tiiat dijsrnily more than liis 
Kpiiieopal rank ; and had he been 
chosen to fill such an office at sucb a 
tiiiic, we have very little doubt that his 
leaning- to the uitemperate party would 
have led to a civil war, which would 
have perilled the connoction c*f Great 
Brit^dn and Ireland, Tlie following^ 
account of the procevsiun of that urn- 
bitioup prelate to take his scat in that 
assembly, i^ given hy nn eyc-witntss, 
Sir Jonah Barriii|fton, atid without, we 



are sorry to aay, that reprobation by 
which such iJanireroiii and discreditable 
folly in an ecclesiastic should be stig- 
inati^ied. 

" Previnus to liie meeting of the del«- 
patef^ the Bishop of Derry had delrr* 
miued to convince th« Irt^h people tlui 
hu was no lukewarm professor of ad- 
herence to their interest; his rharjicter, 
already given, is couHrmed by every net 
of hia life when in Ireland. He trwk 
hit »cRt among-s^t the In«h delegntet Hi 
the Rotunda, with the greatest spletidottr; ' 
and to prove that he prefered the claifnt 
of the Irish Vohmteers to l>oth bis Efig- 
hiih mnk as Bart of Brisitoh and bjs 
Irish rank as a fpiritnal noble, he entered 
Dublin in royal ststtfs drew op his «qui- 
pa^e at the entrance to the House <jf 
Lords, as it be halted to teai^h the peen 
lh«ir duty to their country, and then 
moved forward to takt} bis seat nt the 
Hotunda, a^ an Irish deleirate in tha 
Nsiitional Convention. Such a cittnim- 
stance cun he scarcely credited in Eiiff* 
land ; but had not Lord Charlemool'i 
temprjridTi^<- ncutruli'^ed his spirit, it it 
pralinhle ihat the Convention inip:ht have 
»uccueded in its object, Jt Is not, iher«- 
jore, wonderful, that n British peer, an 
En^lii^hmaii, and above all » Bishop, 
tnkinir m) decided a part in ilia cause c^f ] 
Ireland, should g^aiii a popularity ihnX 
(ew before him ever had »o fully, or per- 
haps more justly experienced. He cer- 
tainly was sincere \ \\h proceedings on i 
this occasion were extraordinary, and not 1 
umvorthy of a spicial notice, 

*^* The lord a had taken their seats io 
the House of Peers, whea the Bishop of 
Derry began Lis procession to take his 
seat in the Convention. He hail sifveral 
curriR^es in his suite, and sat in an opea H 
landau, dniwn by six beautiful Uors«>s, ^ 
caparisoned with pur^ilo rihands. Ha 
was dressed in purple, his ht'r>e9, equi* 
pities, and servauts being jn the most 
spJendid trappir^f and liveries. He 
hud brought to Dublin, as his e^rort, a 
troop of light cavalry, raised by hi* uiS'* 
fortunate and truilty nephew, George 
Robert Fitzgerald ; they were splendidly 
dressed and accoutred, and were mounted 
on the tine»t chargi^rs that the Bishop or 
their commander rould procure. A pari 
of these dragoons led the proce«6Jofit 
another closed it» and some rode on each 
fiide of his lorJi^hip's carriage. Trumpets 
aanouncc'il his approach^ and detachu^eriu 
from several volunteer corps of Dubhn 
joiitedi his lordship's cavalcade. He never 
ceased making: dignitied obeisances to x\\«> 
mtiUitude : his salutaLions were eoibusU 
as^tically returned on every side^ — ^" Lt^iig- 
live the Bishop,'* echoed from erery win- 



18370 



Earl of Charl€moni,—Parl IV. 



81 



dow ; yet all was pe«ce and bamiony« aad 
oeiper did U)er« appear so extraordinary a 
prorefcioD within the realm of Irelimd. 
** Tiii* cavalcade mardied jilpwlj tbrougk 
tlie dilTerviit §treetB, till it arrived at the 
l^ortico of tlio House of Lords, which 
adioiDfld tbat of the Commons, A short 
bait wsi then mnde, the inxmptts eounilefl^ 
ibe tuddca and uiwxpectod clangor of 
which «c!ho«d throug^Lout the lciii|r corri- 
doTtw Both Houses had just finished 
prayers, and were proceeding to business, 
and* totally uncon*ciou» of the cause^ 
iieTeral membi^rs rushed to the entrance. 
The Bishop ftaluttMl all with royal dignity, 
ihe Volunteers presented arms, and the 
twndi piayed the Vobnteeni' march. Of 
m sudden another cliin^or of trumji«li> 
wiM heard ; the astonished Lords and 
Commons, unable to divine what was t<i 
eiifliMi cw the reason of the extraordinary 
■ypiwrain I ^>f the Bishop, retired tu their 
Viifieetire chamUera, and with great suli- 
citude awaited the result, 

*< Tiie Bi«hopt however, had done what 
lie iatDoded ; he had astonished both 
Houics, and had proved to thetn hifl 
|iriaciplefl a&d bis determination* Amidnt 
tUe iliaiita aad cheers of tiiouf&andst he 
|iroc«ed«d to the Rotunda, where^ In 
point of dignity and importance, he cer- 
taivty appeared to surp^s the whole of 
hi» brothtfr delegates* He entered the 
cbwober in the g:Fealest form, pres4jnt«d 
Ilia ordUaiials, took his seat, conversed a 
iew mofnenta with aJl the ceremony of a 
temporal prince, and then, with the ex* 
<«*s of thiit dignified courtesy of whieh 
he maa 8 peifect master, he retired as hQ 
had entered, aod drove away in the same 
tnajealic ttyle, and amtdst reiterated ap- 
plmutea, to bis bouae, where the Voluu-' 
teen had previously mounted a guard of 
bonoar. He entertained a great nu minor 
of peraons of mnk at a magnificent dinner, 
nqd the ensuing day began his course 
Qcnonest the dele^^otes as an ordinary man 
ofbuaiiw**.'* 

Slieh «a« the iodividual «ho now 
altnded much of popular re^urd, and 
wboae influence in the assembly begun 
to be molt formidable to the friends of 
peace and social order ; but fortunatelv 
be waa the advocMe of a measure whicti 
was at that time but little relii^hed even 
hr many of bia most factious adhi^rents. 
This waa tlteeaiaiicipation of the Roman 
CatKoiios, «pun wUicb be was strongly 
opptjsed Ixitn by Lord Cbarlemoni and 
Mr. Flood, and which, after en- 
de<ivouriii^ to force it upon the atten- 
tion of the meeting, he was obliged 
reluctantly to relinquish, but not be^ 
loie m division of sentiment had been 
wodticed by the introduction uf it, 
J^ Vou IX. 



which afterwards contributed ita full 
abate to the diseolotion of the Volun- 
teers. 

It is needless to dwell upnn the 
various topics which were brought 
under the notice of this extraordinary 
assembly of armed men. Suffice it to 
say, that Mn Flood obtained an entire 
ascendency over them, which he used 
for the purpose of procuring their 
sanction to a plan of reform peculiarly 
his own, which, at his instance, and to 
the cofistemaiiou of Lord Cliarlemont, 
it was resolved that he, accompanied 
by such members of the convention a« 
were also members of pari i am out, 
should briu^ down and present to the 
House of Commons, and that the 
cot 1 vent ion should remain in dellberaL- 
tioit until its reception or it^ rejection 
was ascertained* A bolder atiempt to 
overawe a legi^ilature never Was njade. 
Had it succeeded, it would have over- 
tlirown all legitimate authority, and 
been the coni men cement of a military 
tyranny in I re! and. 

Of the stormy delate which en^iued 
upon die presentation of this impe* 
rious mandate, we cannot afford Epiicc 
to speak. Suffice it to say, it excited 
all the constitutional indignation which 
was to be Ibiiud in that iijisemhly, and 
ihr matiiier in which the question \S'W$ 
forced upon their notice, cooled th« 
teal, or determined the opposition of 
many of the moat strenuotis reformers. 
The debute continued until an early 
hour the next morning, when it was 
decided, by a large majoTity, not only 
to reject tlie petition, but to present an 
address to bi.s majesty expressive of 
the loyalty of the house, and the de- 
termination of its members tu pledge 
iheir lifcs and fortunes for the main- 
tenance of their happy constitution. 

Meanwhile, the flelegates, after two 
hotirs* anxious deliberation, were in- 
duced by Lord Chariemorit, who be^n 
to fear v^ hat had really taken place, to 
adjourn until the following" Mondaj% 
The intervening Sunday was sjient in 
consultation with his friends, as to the 
course most Siting now to be pursued ; 
and they wisely resolved to anticipate 
the usual hour of mcctiog on the fol- 
lowing morning, and to adjourn the 
convemion sine {fu\ before any ofipor- 
tutiity was afforded for those angary re- 
marks, or ttiat intemperate and stormy 
eloquence, which might 

♦* Fright thp isk from Ita prcvprietf ," 

Accordingly, on Monday they as- 
sembled ; and resolutiuns having been 



Si 



Gallery of Illusiriotts Irishmen. — No. VI L 



[Jan. 



psftsed expresdive of their deCcrmitm- 
tion still to prosecute parliamentary 
re for 10 in a coiiJttittiiionai wn^^ lliin 
armed body quietly di*?olv(^l^ to the 
prreat rciiet of every i later of discord, 
and the mamlrist eonrusion of thnsc 
who \seTC bent upon going Iccig^ths 
which would have periled the ex- 
istence of the mfnmrchy, and who, 
even though *' Chaos should come 
asfain/* would have resolved soctt*ty 
into its orig-imi! elements rather thiin 
be defeated in their mEichioations. 

This \y^% prnbaWy, the greatest 
service winch Lord Charlemoni ever 
performed for bis country ; and yet, 
nis cooduet in breiiking up this as- 
sembly did Mi>t more strongrly provoke 
the ire of the dema^oeue^, than bis 
conntenuncing^ it so far as to become 
a member, excited the wratb of admi- 
nistration. Tbis we state, because he 
lias bi^t'O siupected by some of having" 
acteil in o!)edience to the sujj^gfestions 
of the court, in defeatiirg, us he did, 
the objects *if the intemperate party 
in the conveutiou. Harriott on broadly 
insintnites ua much i but never was iu- 
Binyation more unfounded. Although 
Buccess mav in some measure justily 
him, we will not tiy any mean;;, jnstity 
hi^ lordship for becouiing associated 
with a body whieh be deemed both 
dangerous and nnconsiitutional. He 
thereby incurred a fearful weif^ht of 
responsibility, and ihe ennseqoence^ 
might have been very fatal Hut of 
the purity of bis motives in so doing, 
there should be but one opinion ; as 
he encountered great personal risijuf! 
without any per^onixl object, and with 
• the perfect certainty of otfendiiifj- tlie 
' government, and displeasing some of 
his most valued frienils. 

Of the eminent senators of this 
period, by whom the dignity and the 
privileges of parliament were vindi- 
cated, Barry Yelvertrm, (afterwards 
Lord Avonmore,) wqs, perhaps, Ihe 
Individ iiaJ who filled the largest space 
in the public eye» and whose eloquence 
and authority were alike iufluential in 
proennng the rejection of the danger- 
ous and itncoui^^titutionai motion of Mr. 
Mood, both by tlic convictions which 
he inspired, and the respect with which 
he was regarded. He was, indeed, no 
common oiau, bui one who was alike 
distinguished aurl adorned by his ge- 
nius and \m virtues. His head was 
enriched by the treasures of chissic 
antiquity, and by legal and eonstitu> 
tional lore, while his bea/t was the seat 
of every kindly affection, and every 



generous impulse, which could endear, 
or exalt^ or dignify humanity. Hii 
eloqueuce, when he entered^ as he did 
on tiie present occasion, in earneil 
iuto the §eld of discussion, was spon- 
taneous, glowing, splendid, and pro- 
found ; exuberant of rich, ioipassioR- 
ed imagery ; and abounding in 
those graces of expressions and those 
classical idioms of thought which 
threw a sort of pellucid atmosphere 
around the feelings and the aeitti- 
meiits to which he gave utterance, naif 
mdde his hearers ollen fancy that they 
were listening to a sago in the region 
of Greece, rather than to a senator or 
a judge, in the kingdom of Ireland* 
HkN miiidj though steeped ia learmng, 
w^is never overlayed by his acquisi- 
tions* The native strength of his in- 
tellect always enabled him to appro' 
prifde^ in the strictest sense of the 
word, to hii own immc<]iate use, hij 
rich and varied attainments. He 
never, by his assimihiiing in sentiment 
to the great characters in Greece and 
Rome, lost his personal identity. His 
admiration of tlieui was not exhibited 
by tame subserviency, but by congenial 
ardour ; and his intluence with hii 
hearers was as frequently owing to the 
transparent purity of his motives, and 
the excellence of his heart, as to the 
ciiptivatioiis of bis classical imajrery, or 
the cogency of his lordly ratiocination. 
Yet was be, at times, very unequal* 
Nature was not more libera! to him of 
thofic endowments whicii lead to etui- 
nenee, than he was himselt careless In 
turning them to the best account, or 
setting them off to uiost advantage. 
His fktculties seemed like petted chil- 
dren, not wholly obedient to hi$ own 
control. Sotnetiuies they would unite 
in an eHort of surpas:*ing power. At 
other times they would scatter, and 
leave him in a state of the mo«t pitiable 
destitution. And no one, not eiren he 
liimselt^ coufd predict the momeat» 
when, some brilliant train of thought 
enkindling in his mind, he would be 
taken, as it were, involuntarily, into 
one of those lofty strains of oratory, 
which may almost be described as the 
apotheosi.s of human elocution. Wbeo 
bis great powers were summoned and 
mar^ihalted for a great aehievemeut, ond 
when thv^ obeyed the ca//^ his march 
was, as Graitan described it, ** like 
the march of an elephant ;" and the 
admiration which he caused waa less 
the tribute vihich is extorted by tran- 
scendent intellect, than the homage 
which men iti voluntarily pay to one of 



' 






18370 



Earl of Chftrie^ont — Pfirl I f ' 



H3 






the great productions of nauire. The 
movements of hU mititi were like the 
heuviii^!* of thif o€ean» un<1 even whm 
lie was most ilesfiotie in hb inBui-nre 
over ih<' f«*eliu?9 und uiuierstuadiuirs 
of otikcrs he was hiujself as much the 
chlltl of inipul7«t\ tis any amongst the 
agitati'tJ groufi n%'cr ^vhnm he wos ex- 
ermiii^ a momeiitary tWntKktimu Biii, 
it may be truly mtd, the strjir^lin;^ 
dtsarruy of Fiil9tart''a rccruiis wonlJ 
hardly be too PxtrHva*rant a mctaphctr, 
tf> rvpr«?seot the nejrlitrence ami the 
disorder of hi.^ ideas, when his faeuU 
tic* were not amenable to hi^ wilL or 
when he did not brare thoiu \hr tlie 
on^t'L In priifatr', ihe riclint'»s and 
V^ety of his cnnvcrisation vvus as in- 
austilile a?i it was delightful; and 

lere the iiinyful nrbanity of \m mun- 
ticrs and the social zest wiih which he 
etitiTcd into all the mrmcent festivity 
of hi* companton«» roiidlinted univtr* 
sal love. But there, also, was his 
i^imkness mn«!t conspicuous; and, it 
Riun be admitted, what shntihl hiive 
hcvn '* a fesist of r<'u>on and a flow of 
soul," not unlreqiiciitly was eonverted 
inlo n theatre of rihaldty, and even 
^nmHimes degeneratfti into a scene of 
dissipation. The nnfenced garilcn of 
(lis virtue* was a prey to every sptiilcr, 
8hiirpere too frequently ahtised his ^e- 
iiefositv ; Hud panisites were suffered 
to plftv. without rebuke, upou the easy 
credulity of his nature. Pence to his 
ttshes I The subjeet of this sketch 
lortfd him cordially whUe he lived ; 
and m"e eouid not suffer hrm to pass 
bfforc our mind's eye, sustain insr the 
pan that he did, in the drama of life 
inat has been brought before our view, 
lAlthnnt offtTin^* poor sind wortliless 
m it may be, our tribute of commcmtj- 
mtivc admimlton. 

The vieeroyalty of Lord Nnrthing-- 
tou soon came to nn end. It shared 
the fjile of the codlittun ministry. He 
Wtts succeeded by the Duke of Rot- 
land ; nnd the patriots, wiui had re- 
covered their eonsliintion fioni the 
gTn*p of the British minister, l"e;ran to 
;ibu>e their newly acquired privileges', 
by itrj^ing- the parliament to commence 
a war of pruhit)iiory duties ng-ainst 
the En'/lt$h manufacture*:; a measure 
which, if adopted^ must have thence- 
forth led to a *ystem of retaliatory 
eotetnient*, whielt ^ould have ruined 
the trade of Ireland. Fortunately 
the proposal was rejected. 

But tlie ditliculty of re;iQlutiQ;^ the 
eommercial interests of two indejien- 
deni portions of a common empire, 



strikingly appeared, when the com- 
mercial pTopositionj* of Mr, ^^ecretary 
Ord were brought uuder di^eus^inn. 
Tlieae, iis they were niodifird by Mr, 
Pitt, (vvha felt it hi?i duty to takir- in a 
larg-er horizon I ban that «hit)i bouinied 
I lie view of I he Irish pf>II(iciyns,) were 
consrriitfd a^ invailing^ the indepen- 
dtrjce of the Irish parliament, in mall era 
of external lejrisliuion ; ami although 
the advjinta'res of the proposed nr- 
rariLrements were siifficienlty yreat, be- 
cause lliry were hyperbolically de- 
Bciihed by Grattiin and others," as a 
barter of enn^titutton for coiumerce, 
they were iudi^rtiantly rejected. Nor 
was Lord Charleuioiit free fmoi the 
prevailinsr ujfatuuiion. He was m 
esiToest as any in eontendtji^ for that 
exelus^ive national competency for the 
reg"cdaiion of our atliiirs, both foreiyii 
and domestic, which could not con^-ist 
with any due re^'urd to the exii^encies 
of imperial le^Hshuion ; and thuSi A 
tlteorvt in)t only idly visionary, but al> 
surdly fake, wns made the pntext of a 
contrari*Hit* and Jinpractical>le policy, 
by width important national iiilerests 
WiTe ne 14 lee ted. This system emdd 
not last. It contained liie seeds of 
it< own dissolution, 

Iti 178G Lord Charle moot vvas elected 
president of the Royal Irish Aeademy, 
a situation which he continued to fill, 
with houonr to him«elf, uuii ailvantti;:e 
to that learned body, durini: the re* 
maitider of his life. His duties in itiat 
capacity were far more eouLrenial to 
his ek'jLTant and euhivatdl mind, than 
those w hich awaited him iti thfise more 
eouspieinius stations, in whie^i he wjis 
constrained to do a violenee to the 
relirinir sfcntleness of lu«t nature. But, 
in the Aeademy, he felt himself at 
home, anr] he [fre^ided over its con- 
cerns with a trrucious urbanity and inlel- 
ligrence which j^rreatly eudeared Inui lo 
its cali^ditcued members. 

" Not cue of the members attended 
iho Aciidemy meetings ofiener than he 
did; few so coTistautly. Tho<e \x\\q 
were hia cuutempornryiieiulfniitianH must 
lung call to mind hib urhiiuity, the lirace* 
of his coui'tfrsaliou, and the variety of 
literary an et (bite, ancient er modern, with 
which he anius<ni^ ani:J itiiki^d iuainutcd 
them, duriu^ the intervulu ol their iie^rt'e- 
ahji^ labours at tht) .4vndi:!niy. In such 
hdjoui'H he bore liim»«'lf int iuf:tuiioftji 
jjart; and, in their fint siiksiori, he fa- 
vonrwd thum with au os^ay, drawn troio 
no common Roureca, in which he under-, 
takes to prove, from an Italian author, 
Fazio Uclli Uberti, a nobleman of Flo- 



^ 



84 



Gafieiy of lUuRtriom Triihffim^-^.No, VIL 



rence* who llfjurished not lon^ nfter 
Daiile, the' auUqtjity oT the woollen uia- 
niitucture in IrehmiL it i» recorJed of 
aome of our countrymen, lliat tbe sererti 
tlow wbieb thnt inunufiictura 9uatui»tKJIf 
some w ha, L more ihaii a Ci^ntury iigo, w»» 
owing to tiieir bosibt of iU extent and 

!jr08pL*rou3 condition. Hitti Lord Cbar- 
em out lived in tho«fl days, he would 
have defended it* privileges with no lesi 
aijrdour as a senator, than in the present 
he traced its history with the ingenuity 
of a learned academic inn/' 

The Marquess of Byckingham, (l<>r- 
inerly Lord Teniplt\) now sticceedrd 
fl second time to ihe Irish viceroy ally, 
which was vtical<<d hy the death of the 
Duke of Rytliiiid. \iU adimitistratiott 
moved on with u to I e ruble degree of 
Ainoothaess, until the dbeusBiuti of the 
regency t|ue8tiun» which wtis caused 
by the ilhies:^ uf the kin^. Here, the 
evil of two jarring legisUtiires again 
strikingly presented itseif. und, had it 
not pleased Providence to restore his 
majesty to health, the consequences 
might have been very fata!, The 
English parliament TTiaintained tlie right 
of the two houses of assembly to 
choose a regent \ the Irish, the didu 
of nominating to that office the heir 
apparent to the throne. Tlie English 
purhaiuent elected the Prince of Wales 
with eonditiom i the Irish caikd upon 
him lo cunume the functions of royalty^ 
in all the plenitude in which they were 
exercised before disease bad impaired 
the intellect of the king. Could any 
propoftitions be more directly at vari- 
ance ? And could any differences be 
more important? And this second 
couOift with the English parliament 
occurred only six years after the asser- 
tion of our independence ! 

Lord Charleraont again took the 
wrong side, his nationality prevailini^ 
against his reason. He wa* tlie mover, 
in the House of Lords, of the resolu- 
tion requesting the Prince of Wales 
to take op on him the office of regent. 
Thk resolution the Lord Lieutenant 
refused to transmit. And Lord C liar- 
lemon t, then, accompanied a deputa* 
tion to England, who were nuthortsed 
to wait upon his royal highness^ and 
present tne address in person. This 
they did. It was gracionslv received. 
But ihe matter terminated there; els 
recovery of the king rendered it unne- 
cessary to proceed in this perilous bu- 
fiiness any farther- 
Now it was that Lord ChaHcm<int's 
political contluct began to cause some 
alarm to the best friends of mem] 



order. The iiKliscretioii of the Irtsli 
parliament, respecting the regency, l«l 
to many dismissal r« from office ; and 
this, again» eanstd an accession of 
strength to the oppuaiiion, which it 
bad not known befiire, and froiu 
which, on the pttrt of the government, 
eonsidcral>Ie embarrassincMit might be 
a pf) re bended. The conduct of Lord 
Buckingham was fully jiisiiBed by iiif 
provocation which he received, (for 
parliament had passed a vote of ceii^ 
«?urc upon him ior his refusal to for- 
ward the address ;) and those wha 
were made to feel the weight of hi» 
displeasure, for what they conceived io 
be a strictly constitutional exercise t»f 
their ^mrliamenliiry privileges, muu 
naturally have felt very strong- reseoi- 
ment. It wns when these feelings were 
rankling in the minds of hitii»elf and 
his friends^ that Lord Charleniont pro> 
moted the establishment of the Whig 
Clufi, a society which comprised moft 
of the eminent persons with whom he 
was in the habit of acting in puUic 
life, and which served to give that 
er*ergy and concentration to their 
exertions, which rendered them not 
only formidable to their antagonists in 
parliament, but dangerous at that fmr* 
tieular crisis, to the peace of the em- 
pire. For never was tliere a time when 
a strong government wiis more impe- 
ratively required to quell the in^^ubordi- 
nation and the disatibctiiin which now 
hegiin to be ripe in many purts of Ire- 
land. Of this. Lord Charlemunt could 
not be persuaded, nor was tt to be ex- 
pected that he should. And we only 
do him common justice when we say. 
that had he been fully aware of the 
dangerous spirit winch it was the teo* 
dency of the measures which he iiro- 
moted to excite and to cherish, them \ 
measures would never have had, from 
him, the countenance with which they 
were regarded. But where be only 
saw the workings of constitutiooal 
principle, others could discern the 
heavings of secret treason. And wdl 
was It for the country that those whose 
views werejuster, and whose foresight 
was clearer, were at that time placed 
in staUons of authority, which enalded 
ihem to exercise such a vigilant guar- 
dianship over the public weal, that the 
machinations of the disaffected were 
defeated. We shall lake occasion* in 
a future number, to present to the 
reader a full-length portrait of Lord 
Clare, wlio no^v filled the important 
office of Irish Lord Chancellor, and, 
without whose energy and detcrmiw* 



18370 



Euvl of Charletnoni- — Pari J V, 



^S 



lion, it i* our Brm [uAlcf, that the rc- 
belliau, the scoil^s ui' wliicli uaw be^n 
to a[)|)tMr, anal svhii'ii altcrwiirds blamed 
out with fo mtidi lurv^ would have 
U?nnlnated in tlic separation of Great 
Briuin and ircknd. 

** As to tht* politics of Ireland*'™ say a 
Burke* wriliiiE? to LfirH Churl em out at 
thU period, (1789,) **aft I see noihi!i^ in 
them very pltasiint, I do oat wiaU to re- 
rW& in your mmd what your best philo- 
sophy is required lo nmko tolerftble, 
Knjoy your mntision, tjknd your aminibLe 
and excellent foraily* These are com- 
fort^Me raurtuariest wht'u more extensive 
vieu'« of society are gloomy, unpleasaul, 
or tiWAnfe/* 

Aa the French revolotion progress- 
ed, so the designs of the difiaffected 
ill Ireland bi'L-ustie more and more ap- 
jmreiit ; uud allliough the policy of 
Lurd Churleu^oiit was not calculated 
to counteract them, it is needless to 
say that, with the principles of that 
daoscrous faction, he never syi"|ia- 
thiscd. Almost tu the: latest period of 
his life, he cuntinned an enemy to 
(3athidic cmaneipation. We have 
Lord Plaakcti's authority for eay- 
ioy» Ibat in the end, he pcirtcd with 
what he called hi:^ prejudice upon 
that snbjcct ; but ha<l he lived to 
witne56 the experiment that has since 
bceu made, he would, perhaps, ac- 
count lih Jtrtt his most enlig/iicned con- 
viction. He thus writes to Dr, Hal- 
Wdtkf with reference to that subject t — 
- *•• Thank you tor yotir letter; — ihunk 
I^^Dli for the explicit, manly, and frlt^ndly 
fillinaer ia which you avo^ and explain 
your seittimenU; a manner worthy of 
my friend, and tW which I must thank 
you, notwitb»taoding the ptiinlul situa- 
tioD into which your letter, kind m it is, 
has cut mo. Not to ba able perfectly to 
ufree with you, must at all times |pve 
loe {MUD ; but the fen»ation is agrjirravRted 
teirfbld by my finding myself utterly in- 
caimble of explaining, as 1 could wish, 
Ike reasons of ray disagreemenU 1 can- 
^UH entirety adopt your opioioni, nor co- 
^^^■Ua with your reaaoning-, and yet the 
^Hkftched stale oi^ my nerved absolutely 
precludes my entering into the argument^ 
or endeavouring to justify myself Avherc I 
differ.' 

^^ As the best part of this letter was 
con^d^ntial., it would be improper to 
publish it altnguther; I i&hrdl only insert 
vucla extracts from it U!» cannot be con- 
sidered as strictly so, and do credit to the 
head and heart of the noble writer. 



M 



The difference of wntimeut bftwei^u him 
and his friend, jji'cined to he cliit'fly with 
regfird to some chiiin^ of the Catholics, 
which it wa^ cxpuLted would be bruu'^ht 
fur ward in the besaiou of prirljuiiicnt then 
fiist ajiproat hiii;g. 

*♦ * For hfiiivcn's sake, let Ui not amu*e 
ourselveii with dan|i*»ron9 experiments. 
In one of Luciau's Dialo>i;ues, die wily 
Proteus desires Mem'laua, who doubted 
the reality of that lire into whii h he wns 
about to Irunsform himself, lo try the 
effect, by taking him by the hand : to 
wliich tbe shrewd Spartan luconiimlly 
replies, * Oy« ir^nXitr « Uu^k ti ll^flrit.'"* 

Already had the Whig Club, which, 
by hia encouragement wt least, he had 
contribuleil tu t^stabUHh in Belfa^^t, be- 
gan to take the hue of treason. He 
thiis writes, in 17fJf), to the same re- 
spected Individ ua!, and givrs way to 
an indignation nevtr before exhibited 
by him, when he found that ibe body, 
for whose good reputation he was hO 
solicitouii, bud rejtctt d a dfcUratioii 
reeommendcti by him, in which a pro- 
fession was made of attachuietit to the 
coDstituiion. 

** Dublin, September IStfi, 1796. 

•* What ! Do the good people of youf 
town consider it as a matter of very 
little moment, to be confounded in the 
masi of those whose principles they must 
detest? Is the present situation of this 
country, and more especially of your 
neighbourhood, such a* to rendnr an 
avowal of amity to tbe constitution, a 
matter of very littb moment? Aa for 
the arguments, if such they may bo 
called, made use of by those who wished 
to refuse their signature, they arc really 
too futile to deaeni'e nn answer. That 
the spirit of discontent has struck its 
roots deep indeed^ 1 am alas! well aware. 
But IS it merely a spirit of di&couteut? 
1 also am discontented ; yet that sludl 
not prevent me from endeavourlug to 
save my country from destruction. But 
the spirit thnt has gone abroad » is, I fear, 
of a far worse natupe^ and proceeds from 
the machinations of a set of wreti-hes, 
who wish for con fusion » because by that 
aloue they can hope lo thrive. Tbey 
wish for a restoration of Chaos, not from 
the hope, though that would be sufSci. 
ently foolish, that a butter world might 
be crented out of it, but, because they 
suppose that in the coafusion of elements, 
the lightest must ueceasarily float at the 
top. The divine Milton, certainly no 
courtier » has well, aad bean ti folly, {Hiint- 
ed out the close connectioo which exisie 



86 



Gallery of lUustriom Irishmen* — No, VIL 



[Jin, 



bHwncu Clinoa nnd I he oiitlior of all 
evil, where Satan iidilre**i^8 i\w j/mvura 
HNil sfiirits of lli« iiHiliiiimfn*l «by»s, if* 
M'orils iiat iU-aiiupled lo a modern Hiiiir- 

** * Dirttt my rourKC i 

Directed mo mem recompciiM^ It briugf 
To your bffioor, if I lb« region lotf. 
All ufiirpaJinin Uicnci» expel lc<}* reduce 
To her original diirkruirw, and ymrr iwaf, 
Wljidi \i my present joumevj und once iflorc 
Ivrect tlie «taudi:ind Ihere uf ancii'nt night* 

" To wliom tlk*! old Aniircli nnswera, 
with ihv utmost kiinlnt'ss, and bids him 
• (ill, nnd *|i«?ed.' * Havot- nnd spoil, and 
ruin are ray giiirt/ TUtjre was a tiimt? 
wbt-n my opinion misflit linve Imd sorne 
little weight ftt Btlftist, Imt those bjvUyoo 
dnyia flre i^ed» Aly only eoa^obticiu is, 
thnt / am no way clmnged, wlnitevef 
they rntiv he who foroiGTly houourud me 
with their €8t<;«m.*' 

liut the fluod^aten of deitiocracy 
hud now bt'eii pulled np, Hnd it was not 
in LonI Chark'mont's power to close 
1 hem. The secrtn a^^sociatioii of Unitf:rd 
l^i!«hn]e^ waaraiddly sprpiidiiigthrouij;h 
the (iounlry. Wliite ttte IViends ot" tlie 
jji^ophs as tiicy were called, hi purlia* 
rncnt, were dt'noNiiciuir ministers, for 
not yiehrini^ to the "jrre*sure frutn 
witlwot/* by grauiiuLT reform in par- 
liaiiiciit. and othor measures of a like 
tendonty, Wolfe Tone, M*Neven, 
Eiurm^i, and their a>sociatt'<J, were 
secretly laiijrhin^ at their folly, and 
dctrrmined to tf^i^t satisfied uitli iio- 
ihioi*' short of the overthrow of the 
monarchy and the cburchj and the 
estiildiiihment of an independent ro* 
piiblu' ill Ireland, But we shall re- 
serve what wc have to say on this sub- 
ject for our notice of Lord Clare, who 
was J indeed, at this period a terror to 
evil-doers, and who was afterwards 
acknowUMlged. (by one of the rebel 
leaders, iti his examination before the 
secret cominittcej to have shaped his 
niciisnres for the suppression of rebel- 
lion with uhnost as TDiich skill as if he 
had had ao intiniiUe knowledg-e of all 
the hi<!den desijrns of ihe traitors. 

Lord Charlcmunt's health was oow 
very mneh broken, and his anxiety now 
respect! nar the state of the country did 
not eotitrihule to improve it. The 
arrest \j[' the committees in Belfast, 
and thi- seisure of tlu-ir papers piU 
government into pfjs^essu»n (d' mneh 
Viilaable infonnalton, tutd caused niuny, 
who were either hostile or neutral, to 
give a cordial approbalion to the 
vifTorous measures of administrutioiu 
The following exlrucl fruni a letter lo 



Dr. Hallidav, bears dale, June mh. 
1797:— 

•' I>ubUn» .June <xn, ii-ft, 
'^ DeptnniUe indeed, is the Acrodtil 
von f^ivf, and your experience of my «««• 
lim^tita uill **n;ii»le you rpadily to jod^re; 
how iiirn>ihle 1 fuel the miarortuti«t of « 
town, whicli^ with nil its errors, muit 
ever hi? deur to (v* ; neither does my but- 
iog: lonir foieseen* and fruitlessly wiirned 
your fijllow iili/.ens Mtrain,*t what has hup- 
pi-ned, tend in any great degree to les^fti 
my concern, since, pt'rhu^«, Owtf are th« 
most unhnppy, and con&LHjtieutty the must 
to be pitied* who Sftjifmr Ironi their own 
faults nr follies ; and far he I'mm me thtit 
hardness ot htiurt, which can view witli 
indifferetice, or somL*tiniesevt'» wilh ph'uk- 
ture, the aufferings ot a friend, mrrelf 
hecausf! he brought them on hinisrlt'— 
To avert these evils, you weU know 
wdnit pains I have taken. My advJc« ha£, 
indeed, been lavished on both parties, 
witli equally ill success ; but how could I 
expt*et that it would influence those 
with whom I wtis ivliolly unconnectedi 
when it had produced littlt* or no etFcft 
upon my frieiuis? Would to henvea U 
had been otherwise \ but spurrtrd on by 
deatiny, we seem on nil hands to run u 
rapid course towards a Iriuhtful precipifo. 
But it is criminal to despttir of our coun- 
try. I will lh«;n endeafoor yet to hope, 
My conscience at least is cleart and with 
a clear conseiencc, utter despondency can 
scarcely exist. Every tlung^in my puwer 
has been done. I have recommended 
conciliation, I have recommended con- 
cession^ and, thoii^di my advice, bou*ever 
strongly urffcd, has proved inefferlQAl, 
still I have disburthened my mind ; nei- 
ther la it utterly imposnildB that, iu Um 
Huctuation of ihesu unsteady Umett* my 
opinion may yet prevail." 

Of the dreadfnt scene which shortly 
after took place, it is not our intentioti 
to speak at present. A more fitting 
op port unity for so doing will be pre- 
sentcil in some of our future numbers. 
But he must have been but a sborl- 
sigrhted statesman, who could not ttowr 
see the perils tfi which the country 
mu*t be ex])osed, if the boasted eon- 
stitntion of 1 78'2 continued to consti- 
tute the baiiis of il^ g;ovcrnment, tind 
who was not fully persuaded that the 
integrity of the empire could only be 
guaranteed by a legishiiive union. 

It is not, however, surprising, that 
the lathers of that cons til nt ion should 
still continue to rci^'ard it with a par- 
tial fondness^ and that every attempt 
to extinifuiah their national leirisUture 
should be strotigly atid indigtiuntly re- 



1837.] 



The ttdo Inhibitions^ atid t/ie Liberal Press. 



87 



sented. When it was noised abroad 
that it wa& th*i inieiition of g^ovL-niment 
to propose llie measyre of uti utiiori, 
Lord Chiirlenioiit waiteti on the L<»rd 
Lieutffiiant for thu ptirpose of offering 
his re»]>eciJul but etirnest rennjtjsirtiiice 
against it« The interview he thus de- 
scribfs, ill a tetter to Mr. Hardy :-^ 

«* I prefaced my discourse by assurinar 
him, timt I exp«t'ted no answer to whfit I 
nK^nnt to say, cou^ciou^ !u I whs tliiit, 
consrdei'ing his iiluntion, it would \m \m- 
pertioeni even to defsdre it ; but thatt Afl 
a proposition of the hiiLilic^^t importance 
was opealy aad jfeoi' rally spoken of, and 
as thi*re vvai a poi!»ibility, thsit the report 
might he fuuEjded on truth, I had deemed 
It an tncumbeiit duty, shorlly to Iny he* 
fuire him my sentiments, not only for my 
<»wii fink?, hut far his hUO) as J could not 
dauht hut thttt, in a mutter of thk nature, 
U« would wish to know the opinioa of 
ev«ry individunL That I deprecated the 
measure for many* many rtfa^onti, but 
would now trouble him with one only : 
that it woubb mure ihau any other> con- 
irihute to the sepanvtiou of two count riea, 
the perpetual eonuexiou oFwhirh wasuue 
of the warmest wishes of my henrt. Hi* 
Excellency recejred my discourse with 
t!i« iilroost politeness ; expressed liis* ohli- 
gallon, axid his Hrm oj&^iuraQce, lliat evtry 
iipintou of mine wa^ founded on the hest 
niotivi'»; but. In comphkinee with luy de* 
siri^t declined for the pre^nt, sriytng any 
more on the subject. From this you may 



readily perceive that thit huaine»s it most 
certainly m n^itation. Lord Clare* as I 
am told, makes no secret of its bein^ a 
principal cauie of hio voyai^e to England* 
and two thinjrfs only cnn, I fear, prereut 
its being brought forwwrd ; remonalrancea 
from the Enpliah tradinj? towns, and the 
firm opposition of individuals here. The 
former is, I am assured, prohablct but 
may *»n]y tend to render the tretity worse 
(or this country J and at to the Jntter, 
both you and I are too well aetjuainted 
with our fellow legislators, to put much 
trust in them." 

Rut his remonstrance* were, happilj', 
unnvailing^. When the measure was 
first brought forward, it was» to his 
grtiiijoj, defeated by a amLill m.ijority. 
Tills g>ive a momentary sunshine to 
his existence, iu which, for a time, he 
sceioed to revive. But w^c and infir- 
mities now pres8»Nl heavily upon him, 
and be was rapidly ap|jroaching to- 
wards his latter end. His health 
vis'ihly dedini^d more and more every 
diiy\ His appetite almost entirely 
failed him ; his legs swelled, and it 
was evidf^nt, to all vvht> saw him, that 
his li is* obit ion was netir at huTid» Aller 
lin^eriogf for some time in this dis- 
tressing" state» a sjieeies of stu[jor 
seiaed him whieh lasted some days, 
when he expired, atCharlemont !iou*c, 
in Dublin, on the 4tli of Aug^o^t, 1 7!Jy, 
in the 7Uth year of hU ag(\ Amongst 
bis pafjers was found the Ibllosving" :— 




'* My own epitaph. 

Here lies the body of 

James, Ewrl of Charleraont^ 

A sincere, zealous, and active friend 

To hi^* country. 

Let his ]K)stenLy in^itiite him In that sdone, 

And forget 

His manifold errors." 



THE TWO lNtlU»TiOP(S, AND TIJE " LlJlEnAL'* PREJIS. 



ri believe it was in t!ie (irjjt year of 
his Arvhiepiscopatc, that ihc Lie la- 
mciitcd Prelate of ihi* diocese found 
him^^cir umler tlie necessity of execut- 
ing an extreme act of power, by issittti|{- 
an Inhibition^ The cirriiiustancc^ of 
the case which called for thi^^ severity, 
left Archbishop Maiicc without alterna- 
lire. They wrre these : — A j^entle- 
mau who lias Miice become notorious 
for the perseverance with which be hss 
iuveighed ag^ainst the truths of revealed 
religion, and who has indeed been 
chough I to have rendered such aervicci 



to an evil master as have procured for 
him a title which is not likely to be dis- 
pnied, had found means to possess him* 
self of two po?:ts of a very commanding: 
influence. He was principal afssistant 
in a school in the vicinity of the metro- 
[lolis, and had been ap[iuinted the sub- 
f^titute of the abseut curate for the dis- 
charge of his parochial duties. Wh^it 
use was likely to be made of the oppor- 
tunities afforded to him, the reader will 
scarcely ask, after havings learned that 
the instructor of boyiiood and tnatu- 
rity of whom we sj)eak was the Rev. 



Th€ Two InkitntioHB^ and the Lihtral Prtu* 



[Jaa 



Robert TayloT, The use actually made 
ef oue at least was such as i[ii<3''ht have 
been expected. The minist ration of 
thf? pulpit was profaned to the office of 
undermining Christiunity. 

U would occasion no surprise to any 
who sUotild hear, now, for the first 
time, that an inhibition was issued 
ug'dinst such a preacher i aud yet, we 
can remember well, when the whole 
force of Archbishop Ma^ee s high cha- 
racter was <lemanded lo sustain him 
o^dltist ihe storm of calumny and in- 
vective which the coiiscientioiiss dis- 
charge of an imperative duty brought 
dovi a liptm him. We remember well 
the pltiearded WiilU — the corners of 
every street occui^ied by the busy and 
brawling agents whu upheld Btiindurds 
tt*.sti lying- against episcopal intolerance, 
und the shrill clamotirs of importunate 
urchins still ring in oni eurs, ** Mr, 
Taylor s letter, sir, to Magee ;" ** Mr. 
Taylor, sir, giving it to ttie Archbishop 
i>r Dnbliri/' We remember, too, how 
the liberal press greedily seized upon 
the opportunity of assuiling dignity — 
wilfi what uinnitigated rancour it 
poure<J forth slanders against the illus- 
trious guardian of the churches of this 
diocese, and how pathetically it ap- 
pealed to the sympathies which distress 
awakens, to enlist the compassion of 
men against their sense of justice, and 
to beguile them into a notiun that be- 
cause Robert Taylor was a sutFcring, he 
was an injured, man, and that Arch- 
bishop Mdgce, because he eierclsed 
authority to restrain him> was a tyrant. 

After an interval of fourteen years, 
an Archiepiscopal Inhibition has again 
created some excitement in the public 
mind. The circumstances under wbich 
il has issued are not similar to those 
iu %^hieh the former was called for — 
the subject of it la a man of zeal an^i 
piety \ his diHcourses are of a character 
to procure niimy attestations in their 
favour, and to provoke no com pi id nt 
or censure — he has been inhibited 
from preaching in the diocese of 
Dubhn, — and the same press which left 
no sjjecies of vituperative eloquence 
unattempied in the generous endeavour 
to expose and bear down the despotism 
of Archbishop Magce, has *' aggra- 
vated" its most gentle voice, and speaks 
smooth and sraiiil to justify and eulo- 
gise the inhibition of the more enter- 
firislng Archbishop Whately. Does 
this cliaogc in the ** spirit of the jour- 
nals** adnnt of explanation V l;^ it to 
be accounted for oy the citcumstatjci's 



under which it has been manifeiled ? 
We shall ace, 

Robert Taylor was an Et^lkbman, 
having no clerical appoltitmeut either 
in his own country or in this. L. J» 
Nolan is curate in a very ostensible 
position in the diocese of Meath, within 
less than thirty miles of this metropolis* 
Mr. Taylor, it is said, was pursued into 
his retreat in this country by rumours 
that in England he had acted in such 
a munner as to have incurred the 
penalty of suspension. Mr. Nolan en- 
tered upon the duties of his cure 
amidst unsuspicious testimonials that he 
had, to the utmost of his abilities, pro* 
moted the good of the reformed reli- 
gion, and without any evil report, ex- 
cept from those who hated him becaiiie 
he had entered the Protestant Church, 
and was likely to prove an active and 
zealous minister. Mr, Taylor preached 
against the fundamental doctrines of 
revealed religion, and impugned. In his 
discourses, the authority of Scripture. 
Mr. Nolan has preached Christ and 
him cruclHed, and strenuously con- 
tended for the great principle lijat the 
Bible contains all truths necessary to 
salvjition, Mr, Taylor was repre- 
sented to Archbishop Magee as one 
who sought privily lo bring in dani- 
nuble doctrine. Mr, Nolan, it is said, 
has been represented to Archbishop 
Whately qm one whose discourses, and 
whose life have taught and exemplified 
genuine Christianity. These are not 
discrepancies which would seem to 
call for eulogies on the silencer of No- 
lan, from the same class of persons by 
whom the inhibition issued agaimt 
Taylor was stigmatised as an unpar- 
donable crime. Where then shall we 
find the essential difference ? What is it 
which recommended Taylor and Arch* 
bishop Whately to the favour of the 
" liberal press" which provoked against 
Archbishop Magee and Nolan ita ran- 
corous hostility ? Can it be this 

Taylor preached agninst Christianity; 
Nolan agiunst the errors of the Church 
of Rome ? VVe bid Mr, Nolan be of 
good cheer. The prcsn which calum- 
nhites him is that which ** so perse- 
cuted also" William Magee, We ao not 
think it malt cr of congratulation to any 
party, to add, that the champions of 
Robert Taylor in times past are now 
the apologirjt!* of Dr. Whately, 

Our course begins to emerge into the 
light. The motives for eidogj- and vr- 
tnperntiun are becoming intelligible, 
an»i the consistency of the liberal press 
begins to be apparent. No man will 



t 



r 



I8S70 



The Two IiUnliUioniy and i/te Liberal Press* 



89 



^-^mit of a doubt» that the indiviiliiul, 
^^Hainst whom the inhibition of Arch- 
H^biop Mag-ee was issuei], wd» the de- 
f inded enemy of revealed rtligioii, aiiii» 
comequeniJ}%of the Protestant Church. 
The iliustfioiis Prelate, therefore, wlio 
displiiceti hiui rendered the Church a 
service. The opinions of dispassion- 
ate men appear made up that Mr. 
Nolan is one whose exertions^ Roman 
Catholics think, wouhl be beneficial to 
Protestantism — the act of silencing httn 
I therefore was, in iheir judprment, the 
^^^eprivin^ the reforioed religion of an 
HBfficicitt minister. To complain that 
^^Hlr. Taylor was silenced and to [jaoe- 
gyrisc the offering an indi sanity to Mr. 
Nolan, are, therefore, acts ascribable 
to the fame consistent policy. 

Let it be, here, clearly understood, 
that we cunfinc our ubi^ervattons within 
Ihe letter of their meaning. We in- 
sinuate nothing — we suggest nothing. 
We atfirni, and \\p. cuntend,on syfficicnt 
grounds, that Arehhisliop Whutcly is 
cnlo«cised and encouraged by the* par- 
tizaits of Popery, because they think he 
hsA done injury to the ProLcstant 
Church ; but we do not aay, nor have 
we furmed a jml^ment on the subject, 
j Uiat it was witli a design t(* injure Pro- 
testantism, or to purchase the prsjise of 
I any party, Dr, \\' halt- ly performed the 
act in winch the enemfes of his church 
are exulting. We shall consider im- 
partially what the Mo^t Rev. Frebte, 
tn the adnunistration of his hi;!jrh otTiee, 
has thought it becoming nf him to do ; 
we shall consider such reasons as have 
been ofiicially given to justify his ex- 
treme exercise of authority \ we feel it 
within our province to advert also to 
the consequences likely to wait upon it i 
but into the motives IVom which it pro- 
ceeded, we feel our inability to ])enc- 
Irate, nor do we think ourselves at li- 
bertyeven to speculate concerning them. 
Premkiing, therefore, ihut wherever we 
are constrained to complain fif the 
conduct of the Archbishop of Dublin, 
Hc shall do so openly ; that when we 
do not directly complain, we hold it 

krtHi worthy of iIs to insinuate, we pro- 
dieed fearlessly with our review. The 
CokKies of the liberal press we have re- 
giraed as lights whicn served to shew 
the tendrncj/ ot ihe Moit Rev. Prelate's 
act. not the moiwet IVora which it pro- 
ceeded. A very brief consideration of 
the diHicultics bevelling the Church of 
Rome will show that they gave correct 
tnielligcnce* 

It IS well known, that doubts which 
threaten the demolition of their i^vstcni. 



have been widely disseminated, and 
have been deposited in the minds of 
many o^ the Roman Catholic clergy of 
Ireland, We do not believe that the 
*' healing measure'* of IB*29, which has 
tniide the country sore, had the power 
to blnst the good fruits for which we 
were tauifht to look immediately be- 
fore that year, althongh it certainly had 
the effect of cheeking their growth, 
and of defacing those maniiestations of 
promise which encouraged even the 
superficial and the distrustfnl to ex- 
pect them. The Roman Catholic 
clergy had been engaged in controver- 
sial discussions. In the endeavour to 
defend their church, they had been 
frequently constrained to abandon and 
deny her principles ; their assaults upon 
the Church of England had provolied 
replies wliieh taught them for the first 
time that antiquity bore testimony in 
favour of that pure Faith which wasap* 
|)riived by Scripture and right reason i 
and although boldness of iisscrtion and 
denial olten etcurcd to them a tempo- 
rary triumph or a happy escape, it 
could not protect them iigaiitst a re- 
cnrrence ol thoujiht^ which disturbed 
the trust with which they relied on 
their church, and increased their re- 
verence for the great rule of failh and 
morals with which they had become 
habituated to compare it. ITie conse- 
quence was beginning to be apparent 
in the conduct of priests and peoplci 
when the political measures of 1829, 
interrupted the progress of religious 
discussion by giving a new direction to 
the public mind, and by causing the in- 
terest of argument and reasoning to 
fade in the more commanding splen- 
dor of what the great mass oF the Ro- 
man Catholic people were taught to 
acknowledge as their miraculous de- 
liverance. 

An interruption of what bad become 
a popular pursuit, thus produced, could 
not be permanently effectuuL The ex- 
citement to which sober enquiry had 
been distasteful, subsided, and the in- 
terrupted studies would have been re- 
sumed, had not new topics of agitation 
been discovered and adopted* In- 
stefid of meeting the advocates of Pro- 
testant ism > to discuss points of faith, 
the priests entered into associations to 
discuss anil advance political interests, 
instead uf defending the doctrines of 
their own church, they assailed the 
tcmpomliitcf? *>F the Protestant estab- 
lish meni, and instead of appealing to 
truth, and SciijJlurCt and righletmsness 
for the juijticc ol their cause, Ihey ad- 



90 



The Two Inhibitions^ atid the Liberal Fress^ 



[Jan. 



dressed themselves to the pasf^ioiis of a 
miBguidecl people, to men's discontent, 
Bpd onvy, iiiid uncharitiiblenesSp aud 
Blrove, by such auxdmnea. to mEiintain 
themselves iii The station of puwer to 
whieh they had been mised, mid to 
oveTthrtivv u!l obstaeleai uhh^h impedf-d 
them in their efforts to obtain ^l\\\ 
iii^:her dnminlon, or menaeed thtim 
with insecurity in the positions they 
alTcady oecopied. But reflection 
comes to till men. Such a ptdicy was 
desperate. It was impossible tfiut at 
limes it must not have iippoared to 
nianv who were guided by it, dishonest 
us well as uiiceriain. Many a jiriest 
must have thought the cause bad which 
WHS driven to the adu|*tion of such 
modes of deience, Many a laic must 
have ft: It that the hoa^ited eharaeteris- 
tic of sanctity had been ctfuced from 
the aspeet <d a chun li who8<^ ministers 
were engaged in m unhoU' practieest ; 
end the natural result ims fulluwed, in 
tlie well-known ilt^position of lOLiny to 
remiunee the errors uf Rome, in the 
autual withdrawal of many Itiics and 
eeeletiasiies? from her eommunion, aiifl 
in the doubts which it Is ascertained, 
have been awakened in the minds of 
multitudes by the exertions of Protcs- 

, tant instrnctorst and, still nntre, by the 
confessions wliieb their own cler^'-y 
have made, oi the methods of counter- 
acting the efforts of their antagonists, 
to which they have resorted. 

Of all the incidents which, at the 
game time, betray the unsoundness of 
the Chureb of Rome, and iucrease the 
evil of her condition, the mo&t remurk- 
able ami tlie most dreaded i^^ the fre- 
quent withdrawal of priests from her 

I coin tun nion. The injury is two-fold — 
the alfections of some i^o after the ec- 

I clesiastiea who have departed — the re- 
liance of others is sluiken in the eccle- 
siastics who remain, The reformed 
priest is a witness against the church 
from whieb he has separated ; ami, in 
proi»ortion lo the frequency of such se- 
paration?, will be the facihty with which 
the minds of men may be drawn into 
eonjccturcs and presages of new eou- 
ver>ion5, and 'he deg:ree in which the 
stability of their dependance will be 
weakened on the priests who have nut 
vet avowed a change. When a con- 
gregation has learned that a vehement 
ftsserter of the superiority of their 
eburch has joined the rjinks of those 
who testify against it, some auuaig thera 
viill be led to believe in the jjossibility 
ibat his snccessor may also change ; 
and, gradually, something like distrust 



will spread, whether the confessional or 

the sacrifice of the altar may not have 
been in voided by uncertuinties and 
doubts, such as disturb the inientioti of 
the offteiuting: priest and mar the sacra* 
ment. We do not set this down us in 
itself a severe injuiy to the Church of 
Rome, but we re^^^ird it as one of the 
approaches by which doul>t may enter 
into bcr citadeb It will furnish »n 
occasion for thftug^ht atid enquiry and 
speculation, and \aitl, to many miiidti, 
su*fgest consequences arising out of 
Romish doctrine, by which their un- 
soundness will be rendered more a|>- 
prehcnsihle than by the scriptural tes- 
timonies which condemn them. 

It requires little sagacit}" to deter- 
mine what should, and what tuu«t be 
the policy of the Church ol Rome in 
this emerc^ency. Whatever can di*- 
piira^e the teslimony of reformed 
priests who Ijear witness against her ; 
\ihatever is likely to deter waverer* 
from rcnrmuciny her authority, atid at- 
tachiug tiiemseUes to those who ha*e 
gone out from her, she must imtumjly 
hold desirable. The inbil>ition of the 
Archbishop of Dui)lin, and the reasons 
assigned for it serves to both uses. — 
To ull who respect the authority or 
judgment of the IMost Rev. Prelate, it 
damages the authority of Mr, Nolan*s 
teaching — to those who, within the 
Church of Rome In profession, a^d 
estranged from it in belief, meditate 
upon the course they will pursue, it 
utters a ihssuLisive from the making a 
good conieasion. They are wise in 
iheir generation, therefore, who afn 
plaud the cunduet of the Archbishop 
of Dublin, and pour their invectives on 
the reformed priest, Mr. Nolan. 

There might have been one tin- 
avoidable drawback on the satisfaction 
uith which the radical press lent itself 
to the defence of a Protestant Arch- 
bishop. U might have done so under 
circumstances which involved a defence 
of the church in which he was a rtder. 
To vindicate cpisropal authority from 
calumnious as pe rations, to assert the 
duty of submission to canonical go- 
vern ment, might have become a neces- 
siry part of the duly undertaken by the 
men who discontinued their assaults on 
Mr, Nolan, only while they panegy> 
rised the judge who bad exposed him 
to their fury. Thi.i; would have been a 
distressing necessity. It would not 
perhaps have released the sufferer frotn 
bis tormentors, but it would, to some 
little extent havcabatedthegratificalion 
with which they dealt their blows, and 



1837.] 



The Two InhihitionSf aftd the Liberal Press, 



Ul 



burled their foul mlsBiles at him. The 
maiiher in which the Archbitthop 
thought proper to proceed — the ground 
on which he justifies his proceedings — has 
enabled the adversaries of the Church 
to enjoy their ireedoai uithaut ulloy» 
There is no necessary cniinection be- 
tween the vindicJition of Dr, Whiitdy, 

fitid a defence of the episcopal order - 

There i* no difficulty in pronouncing a 
eulogy on his Archiepiscopal judg- 
ment, without ascrihtijy^ authority to 
tlie canon* by which his cicci:Jions 
should be g-overned. In short, a Ro- 
mau Catholic may praise the late in- 
hibition with its accompanyiufT com- 
raentarVi because it not only restrained 
a preaclier whom In! dreadud, but cast 
dispHraf^ement also on the head^ of the 
Proioiant Church; because^ in his 
judgment, the Prelate who proclaimed 
the i^'norance, and censured the pre^ 
sumptKiri, and punished the disc^bedi- 
euce of tlje convert irom i\ipery, be- 
trayed in his own acts, unacijUuiutEince 
with the canons according^ to which it 
behoved him to rule, disregard for the 
judgment of those whose authority he 
wts hound to respect, and a fixed de- 
tirrmlnation to take his own m ill and 
wisdom, us more trust-wortliy guides, 
that the spirit of those laws by which 
churcii government is edifyin^ly con- 
ducted. The Human Catholic may be 
lavish of encominm^ because, as it seems 
to him, the blow aimed at the repnta- 
tiofi of the convert was bo awkwiirilly 
levelled, that Protestant discipline must 
take hurt from (L We shall see whe- 
ther such an anticipation is ground-- 
less. 

Atthonj^h the terms of the inhibition 
against Mr, Nolan miiy be fimiiliur to 
imr reader's memory, we think it not 
nns'iitid)h\ for muny reasons to give it 
a place in our pages :— ^ 

** I^ifllDXTIOX. 

•* Ridinrd, by Divinu ProviJenLij, 
Ar\Hihi»hop f^fDuhiin^ Primate imd Me- 
Iropotitan of Iri^land, and Bishop ii\^ 
GUnJt*lat;h, to alt and f-iogularclerk'sauti 
literittd (lersont wjthfn our dioct^iies of 
DuUtiti Mftd Gliinddagh, pri'cting. — 
Whereas \ho Rev. L. J. Nolan hath 
takfn upon him^lf to ofliciate in p«rfurm- 
iog divjne offices in the piirish cburrhesor 
Ltiaio Rtid S;iint John, within our btiid 
<JioeM9ant) jurisdiction, without our li- 
r«*n»e cir authority, conti-nry to the iawi 
and canout of the Church of IruUud, in 
that CKstf made and provided : Wr, then.'- 
fuftj by thfte present*, striclly char^'* imd 
commnud yotu that you inhibit piitemp- 
turdy tlia said L. J. Nolan, whom we 



also, by the l#Dor of these presents, in. 
hi hit timt he pr««ume not to preach, or 
ptiriorm any other clerical office within 
our Hiiid dtocest*!^ and jurisdiction, without 
our special lict*nse and uulhorily first hiid 
and obtmnedl, under (laiu of the law and 
conti*m}.»t thi»r<?of; and tiutt you certify 
to u?^»or our V Loir- General, or some other 
judge conipf tent in this behidt^ what you 
sbidl do ifi ihe premises, toguthvr with 
theiM} presentN. Dat€tl under our Ar- 
chicpiscoptd Sl^hI, the eightei.'nth day of 
Novum her, in the year of our Lord 
one thousand eiglit hundred aud thirty- 
six* 

(Seal,) »' RrcHARD Dt;sL[N. 
*< John Samuels, 

" Beputjr Registrar," 

Before we offer any observations on 
the substantial matter of this docu- 
ment, we think it right to enter our 
protest against what we conceive to be 
a very objectionable form of expression. 
Mr. Nolan tt alleg-ed offence u declared 
to be ** contrary to the laws and canons 
of the Church of Ireland." We would 
ask respectfully, vvlmt is liie ** Church 
of Ireland?" I* it a Church, in its 
coitslitutinn, charaeter, doctrine, or 
discipline, tlilierent Irorn the est<tblished 
church of theiatj: rii'aluis ? As we read 
the oth article of Unionj it runs thus — 

•' That thu Churches of Entrlnnd nnd 
Ireland, ua umv hy law catabhshed, ** be 
united into oitn Protentant Episcopal 
Church, to be catted the United Church of 
England and Irehindf and the doctrine, 
wonihip, discipline, nnd govern ment of 
the $Htd United ("liurrh shall be, and 
ahnll remain in full force for ever, as the 
snui© are now by law eittiiblij^hed for Ihe 
Church of Engkml, &c. &c. &c/' 

Sucii in the article of Union. We 
ask — are the laws and canons which 
Mr, Nokin has transgresse'd* diliertnt 
from those of this United Church ? — 
If they are, we propose aiiothcr ques- 
tion — was it rijj^lit that he trhonhl be 
judged by them *;' Arc they thes^mc ? 
Are the times such as Justify an ahart- 
doiimcnt of the afKfjcll:iiion to which 
tlie Church in Ireland lias become en- 
titled? h it right »o foniliaiize the 
public niittd tt» the idc^ti ot a sc]>arution 
belNVhcn ehorclies whlt*h biivc bi-eo, so 
far as law!^ have power, indissobibly 
united ? We kno\i thiit something 
mjy be said respecting adherence to 
form. We have no opporhinity of 
couipiring the form 8>f iniiihitioii i>- 
sned ui^ain-t Mr. Ta\ lor with that of 
which we now comidain. We can^ 
however, irAaginet that nn inadvertence 



m 



The Two In/iibiiiom^ and ike Liberal Press. 



may have beeo committed ta 18:22, 
wbit^h, iu lB}(y, It iii much more difli- 
cult to excuse ; and we earnestly liope 
that the heads of the church, ii'lheif 
iriterpusition lie neccsjaryi will rectify 
Bii error which should iiut at any lime 
liave hccTi pt-Tmitted, hut which the 
temper of ihe |> resent day lendcrii pe- 
(Miliarly obnoxious lo eeiisure. In 
times when a mitiister of the crown 
can rciir up his scheme of municipal 
rctorm ou an assntjiption that in every 
thing by which legislation should be 
Hrti*eted, there is sameness in the coti- 
dilion and circumstances of Great Bri- 
tain and Ireland, while his aecDmpariy- 
iug measure of Church Reform is baised 
on the recognition of a difference and 
discrepancy arnounliiig to not less than 
irnconcileabh* oppositioUp it wtmhl be 
well to have provided that no Tig-cllius 
ttf iaw-roukcrt — no present or future 
Lord John Kus!<ell™5honld avail him- 
self of the |>recedent set by an Afch* 
bishop of Dublin as his excuse for for- 
getting'' that the Protest Lint Church in 
Ireland had not become disentitled to 
the protective groaraotee assured to it 
in the articles of the b'jLrislative union, 

Bnt to come to the more suhstiin- 
tial matter ofthe inhibition. It alleges 
iliat the Kev, 1j. J. No] tin hns taken 
upon him to otliciate in the dioeese of 
Dublin, without authority or license 
from the Archbishop, ** contrary to the 
laws and canons of the church,'' This 
is to be regarded either as a general 
proposition, tidirmiug that a stranger 
officiating in the diocese of DubliOi 
without license from the Archbishop, 
transgreflses, and infringes the canons, 
oriteontem[i!ate9somepeculiarityinhis 
particular instance, by which Mr. Noltin 
was rendered culfiable. In either case 
we think his Grace took an erroneous 
view of the subject* In the eirplana- 
tion which haa been given, (we believe 
otHclally) of bis procedure, we have 
certainly seen nothing to satisfy us 
that he did not act under a miscon- 
ception. 

That a stranger officiating in Dub- 
lin is not accounted a transgressor of 
eeclesialieal rule, although he has not 
sought or obtained a license or autbo- 
rity* from the Arch bis bop, the fre- 
quency of such ministration? renders 
abundantly manifest. Nor is usage at 
variance w ith the canons of the Church, 
which direct, not thatastrangcr shall ob- 
tain authority from thebishopof the dio- 
cese in which he performs an occasional 
ofiice»but that he be licensed by the dio- 
cetau to whom his canonical obedience 






is primarily due. The canon* hem 

reference directly to the 

which a stranger must [m» 

that he be pertmttcd to pertbrm i 

clerical office, are two, the ddth atid 

39th* The latter enjoins timt, 

" Neither the minister, churchwardens^ 
or other oiicert of any puruchial or eoU 
Icgiate churrh, &h«1l suffiir any straager 
to preat'Ii unto the people in tbetr 
churches, except they know bini to be 
KufficUniltj auUiorUed iKertto as is aj^f$- 

And the ** aforesaid'* auihorily is de- 
clared, in the preceding canon, to be, 

" The tefttimony of thu bishop of ihi 
diocese, or ordinary of tlie place, as afore- 
said, whence ih^y came, in writing, 4>f 
their honesty, ability, and conformity |e 
the ecclesiastical laws of tho Church of 
Ireland." 

All this is rational and tntelUgible* 
The ministers and officers uf each 
parochitti or colle^iaie church are rc» 
fciponstble for the tluetiiucs which <hall 
be preached in their rtspective jmlpits. 
If they invite sirangcrs to oHiciate, 
they are bound lo see iliat they select 
persuijs duly quali lied; for which pur- 
pose it is incumbent upon theoi to pn>- 
cure, not a license from I he bishop of 
the diocese in which their offices arc 
heltt, but to have assurdiice that the 
stranger has been duly authorised li» 
otiiciate in the place from whence he 
came* In a word, the ministers am] 
officers of the church may admit 
strangers to officiate under cerLata 
specified restrictions. The canous 
which limit their power, by prohibit- 
ing them from iniroducing improper 
persons to their pulpits, recognise 
and secure their right to avail tneoi- 
selves of the services of such miiiii 
as are not canonically disqualified. 

It would seem, therefore, that 
stranger solicited by the minister of a 
Dublin church to preach in hia pulpit, 
does not necessarily violate the canons 
by accepting the invitation. He is 
justified in assuming that he would 
not have been requested to officiate 
if any local regulation excluded him ; 
if it were necessary to obtain a special 
permission from the diocesan, he Is 
justified in assuming that it should be 
sought, not by him, hot by the minister 
of the place ; and that, indeed, had not 
such a permission been generally un- 
derstood, or, in that particular im^tonce 
obtained, he wouhl not have rcceivetl 
the invitation to officiate. As lo titv 



nem- 

M 



18:*7.] 



The Tnco InhiUtiom, and fAe Liberal Pres9* 



93 






ciooDS, he knowM that I hey do not 
reqiiire nf Uim to obtain aJi ejilsctipal 
sanction |o his preaching otlier than 
I hilt uhidi he hus received from the 
liishop of the diocese in which he hr>ld3 
hit cure or preferment. So much lor 
the question as tt^ecting strangers 
gjeuerallj. We shall now e/Jiisider it 
M it may be effected by peculiarities 
tn the recent case of inhihiiion. 

l^ir. Nolan, it appears, about three 
years stncet having withdrawn from the 
Church of Rom p, applied to the Arch- 
bii^hup of Dublin, requesting employ- 
ment in his Grace's tiiocese. The up- 
(ilic^tion was entertained, and Mr* 
NoUn was reiniircd to undergo an vx- 
afuination, lor the purjioae of ascer- 
taining his competency to discbarge 
clerical dnties. He did not succeed 
ITI obtaining the Archbishops appro- 
bation, and was accordingly refused 
} permission to officiate. His Grace, 
lowever, did not hid Mr. Nolan de* 
spw ; be pointed out to him a course 
01 cludy, and declared bis willingness 
lo admit him, when better prepared, to 
ti re-examination. So far the conduct 
c^th« Archbishop may have been con- 
lUteat with a due regard to the 
interetits of religion, and witli a bene- 
volent consideration for the individual 
whom he pronounced deficient in 
tcriptural knowledge. Of all this we 
are officially informed. We are fur- 
ther instructed, that Mr. No)<tn was 
recently refused permission to officiate 
in DabliD, on the ground that he had 
been found incompetent when he was 
formerly examined, and that the 
Archbishop of Dublin had not bad 
an opportunity of ascertaining that 
he bad so benefitted by his Grace*s 
eounscl as to have become capable of 
dis<;harg'iDg clericitt duties with ad- 
vantage. We subjoin the document 
in which this explanation is given with 
aulhoriry^ 

^VrOe MdUarqf Samtdtn' Ifew^LetUr^ 

*• Nov. 26, 1830. 
** Sib, — Many statements and remarks 
haviog appeJ4r«d in various news|m|icns 
relative to Mr. Nolnn, who has hevn m- 
kibited by the Archbishop of Dulih'n 
fitnn officiating iu bis diocese, we ob- 
terve that the Imnsnction in question is 
aivumed to have somo connexion with 
the circumstance of Mr. Nolan's having 
b«en fonuerlf a Roman Catholic Priest, 
and that accordingly the whole matipr is 
mixed up, more or less, with Roman 
Catholic controversy. We think it right, 
iberafore, to andeceiv'e the public a« to 



the point by a simple statement of fnrU, 
which have come under our knowletlge, 
Tb« transaction alluded lo is, in reality, 
totally unconnected with any llditg re- 
in ting to Ol« church of Roine» in it« doc- 
trines, or to its membersj considerrd as 
such. The Archbishop proceeded) ex- 
actly in the same manner in which he, 
and it h io be prewuro«d every other 
Bishop would, in the CMU^se of im indi- 
vidoal bron^bt up *^ither in the Protes- 
tant or Roman Catholic persuasion. 
Mr. Nolan having some time ago ap- 
peared before the Archbishop, applying 
for some clericJil iippointment, wfi*» found 
on e^aminHtion not to posseBs tbat know- 
ledge which is r<?q aired fur nmdidntoi for 
Holy Orders. His Grace was of coarw 
obliged to decline giving him at that 
time wbiit would be equivalent to or- 
dinEition, permisi^tion to odiciiite its n 
clergyman. The Arebhii^bopiit the same 
tirnti pointed out a course of fttudy, nnd 
exprenaed his readiness to admit him to a 
re-examination when better prepared. In 
an interview w^ith us lately, Mr. Nolan 
admitted tbat be wes iirnorant of the 
Scriptures at the period of that examina- 
tioup and that the Arcbhibbop bad acted 
rightly in refusing him leave to preach. 
H« added that since that period he had 
acquired religious knowledge. Of this 
tb« Archbishop bad no opportunity of 
judging, Mr. Nolan having never pre- 
sented himself a secood time to his Grace. 
When, therefore, Mr. Nolan commenced 
preaching in the diocese of Dublin, after 
having been refused permission as above 
itated, it became necessary, as a matter 
of course, to diiect an inhibition against 
him» without any reference whatever to 
any topics introducei] or de»igned to ho 
introduced in his disiourse^, and without 
reference to any popular rommotion, 
actual or apprehended, Tlie V'lliole 
transjictinn was, as we have before said, 
from first to last, totally um;ont)ccti'd 
with any question between Rtrman Catho- 
lics and Protestants, We rtMnain, your 
obedient humble ssrvauts. 

*' ChaRLEH DlCKENSOh', 

«* James Wjlsok, 
ChaiTilailm to the ArchbLstjop of DutilSn, 

This must be regarded as a docu* 
meiit of importance. Answerinfli' as it 
docs for the motives by which the 
Archbishop of Dublin was influenced, 
it is natural to suppose that it was buIj- 
mitted to his Grace's inspection. In- 
deed it would imply a degree of su- 
pine indifference, of which we should 
be sorry to accuse the Archhi*hop, were 
be to permit such a stafen^ent to go 
forth to the public wiihont his consent 
and approbation. It prorri^tes to de- 



k 



94 



The Two Inhibitions, and the Liberal Press. 



[Jan. 



clftfe with authority what were, and 
I what were not, hia views in issiiiii» the 
> iohihitiou — it records an ackBowleti^e- 
raent tVorn Mr, Nolan, that when the 
Aruhbbhop ^irunounced him iiicom* 
petent to discharge clerical duties 
with prtmriety, (which wns, as Mr, 
Nolan atnrms, two years anti seven 
months siuL'c) his Grace was jn^tiHed 
, in denying him peTinirision to i>fficiate — 
ami it exhihiiE an upiyion as ht'ld by 
I his Grace of Dublin and his ciiaplains, 
in which we tondly hiipe no other 
I bishop and chanlains in the united 
Church of Kngkiud and I re b ml will 
be found to purticipate. We du not 
wisli to hr cunsoriuuj* in our observa- 
tions. We do not wi^h to inflict, eiren 
hud we the power, utineccs'?ary pain. 
For one of the parties whusc^ name has 
become connected wiih thid nnhappy 
transaction! we have Inn;; entertained 
feelings of respect and affection, from 
vhich it would be very pairdul to U3 
to be severed ; but, aa we impute no 
blami! to the holders of the opinion^ 
hev have coura<jf>ously and can- 
ny, beciiuse unnecessarily* avowed 
, we will not think, that any private 
feeling' can be embittered by entering 
a protest ajj^ainst it, in n:*pectful terms, 
but iu the stroi]|re?t uleo which our 
temperate vocabnltiry can supply j be- 
cause uf what we Ijflieve to be its un- 
sound nci^s in doctrine, and its mo.it 
injurious tendency* 

The opinion to which we feel thus 



constrained to advert, is that which \s 
expressetl in the following words — 
" what would have been eqnwnlent to 
ordhwtiun^ [lermission to officiate as n 
clerirynian.'' The meaning of this ex- 
pression is either general, that per- 
mission from the Archbishop of Dublin 
to any persoii ia eqnivalent to ordina- 
tion» or it is limited, and intituates the 
value of such pernii'^sion if tfiven to 
the individual who then sought it» Mr. 
L. J. Nolan. In either sense, we con- 
tend, the expression is ineorrecL The 
permission of the Archbishop would 
not Jn any case whatever, he equivalent 
to ordination, Dfliberately to alfirtri 
that it would, indicates a very eica^- 
gerated notion of the Archbishop'^ 
power, or denotes a very inadequate 
coujprehen'iion of the solemn rite of 
ordinkition.* Power to aduiinister, and 
permission to othcialc, are, iu truth, 
jtrivileges altog:ether diBtinet and inde- 
])endent of each other. The ooe is 
derived through the imp«»firtion of 
hands in ordination — the other U con* 
ferred at the will of the ordinary, bjr 
his licen^ic. The one is a power w htch 
abides with the iiKlividual on whotn It 
has been bestowed, so tliat by do 
human aathority can !ie divest himself 
of it — the other is ti ris^ht which may 
be resigned at will, and of which for a 
variety of causes, the possi'ssor may 
be deprived. The one imprints an 
indelible chjraeter^ — the other assigns 
an office of which the !i older tmiy^ be- 



• ** Miaisleral power is a mark of sepiirationj because it severeth them that have it 
from other men, and maketh a special order» consecrated unto I he service of the M<j«t 
Uigh, in things wherewith others niny not meddle. Their difference, therefore, from 

' other men i* in that they iiru n distinct onlur. So Tttrtullian cnlleth them. Aini 
St. Pnul himself, dividing the body of the Church of Chris>t into two moieti^* 

' mimeth the one piirt titiLTitr^ which is ns mneh as to say the order of the laity^ the op- 
posite part whtsreunto wu iu like sort t«rm the order of God's clergy, tind the spirituid 
pciwer which he hath given theim, ih? powi?r of tljeir order, so far forth as the aHmti 
conaisteth in tho baru exocutioa ni holy things, called properly the afTair^f of God ; 
for of the power of their juriodicttou over men's persons we are to apt-'uk in ihe booka 
fotlowifig. They xvhich hnve once received this power may not think to put it off 
or on like a cloak, aa the weather fierwth, to take it» reject, and ri'sumo it ui oft as 
tbcmaelvci list ; of which protUne imd impious contempt these tutter tunes havu 
jieidtid} as of other kindb of iniquity and aprntacy — stmage examples. Bat let theni 
know, which put tlieir hand unto tldii plough, ihnt cure consecr»lud unto God, th»y 
are mada his* peculiar inheritance lor ever. Stispen^ion* nniy stop, and dogradutiuns 
utterly cut off the use or ex4?rd»e of power bcforu given ; but voluntarily it is not in 
the power of man to isep^rate and pull asunder what Goil by his aathority coupleth. 
So tluit although there may he through this desvrt def^nidation, its there be causu of 
ju»t scparution after matrimotiy ; yet if (as sometimes it doth) restitution to former 
di)!nity, or reconciliation alter hrciieh doth hnppen, neither doth the one nor ilie 
other ever iterate tlie lirst knot; much less is it necessary, which some have urged, 
concerrning the reordinalion «f such, as olliers in times more corrupt did consecrate 
heretofore — which error, already rjuelled by St. Jerome, doth not now require any 
other refutalioo/' — Uoahcfs EecksiasHcal PuHhj, Book 5. 



1837] 



77w Two InhibUiomy and ike Liberal Press* 



95 



eorae dispossessed, [n what gensc, 
thenf can permiasion to officiate and 
ordiiimtioii be tenneij i*c|mvaleiit c' 
• If permission to offiniuLe as a clergy- 
I^An be ec^iiivuli'nt ta ortriotttiutu orui- 
nution Is unnecr*sarv^ Bui die Church 
of Ejiglmid tltelares that no man who 
litis not bevu duly ordaiuedi shall pre- 
sume to oHiciiite, 

'* No iDRU »1ifltl be accounted, or takuti 
to be a lawful biihop^ prie&tt or dencort 
in the united Church of England and 
Irelaiiil, or sufferud lo executo any of tlie 
said functions, except he be called, tried, 
examiutid, and admitted th^reunto^ av- 
corcling to the form hereafter followmj;, 
or hath before had Episcopal ordination 
or cotii4ecratioD.''^5o«* of Common 
Prayer — pre/ace to the form and manner 
of making, ordaining^ ^'C. ^"c. 

If the Archbishop of Dublin would 
admit li person iiot thus qualiiied to 
o^ciaie as a clergyman, we (h> not 
hesitate to uttirm that he would in so 
doiDg^ transgrei^s the lasvs of his chureb. 
If he re<(uire ordination a** an iiidir?- 
petisible pre-requisite to his granting 
inch permission, he cannot, rationally, 
tiecount *'permii»siou'^ au equivalent 
for what it cannot rcprestiiit, for what 
it presupposes, for that of which it can- 
not supply the abs*'nce or want. It 
it dear, then, that in the ordinary ami 
general sense of tiic term^, it won Id he 
a very grave error to pronounce " per- 
mission to oilictatef equivalent to or- 
dmation," 

Is there any sttch peculiarity in the 
circumstances or condition of Mr, 
NoUn, Hi justify the use of sueh 
expressions, if limited to his particular 
case ? It would appear to us that the 
litQitatioD rather serves to render the 
incorrectness more manifest. The 
Areiibishop of Dublin regarded that 
geiitlemnn either as a layman or an 
ecclesiastic ; as an individual seeking 
admission into priest's orders, or as 
one who had been alrearly ordained. 
If he accounted Mr. Nolan a layman, 
his case is of the kind which has been 
already considered. We need not re- 
iiim to it. If, on the other hand, his 
Grace regarded him a« a pcrsrm in 
ortJcrs, he mntit have known, surety, 
that he did niit a second litnc rtquire 
ordination, in order to his engaging in 
clerical dmics. Why should, therefore, 
the grace to be accorded to him be 
pronounced equivalent to ordination? 
Had it been described as supplemental, 
I conferring a right to exercise powers 
ithMo^ed by ordination, we could un- 



derstand; and would acknowledge its 
propriety. But to affirm that an equi- 
valent for ordination was granted to, or 
was withheld from* one who had 
already received that of which it was 
the equivalent, is not to speak ration- 
ally ; it is, indeed, to pronounce that in 
the case of Mr. Xolan, the permission 
sought and refused was wholly soper- 
fiuuus, because its use was thjt it 
should serve as an equivalent for or- 
dination, and he had already been 
ordained. 

Tliere is another supposition hv 
whicli which the etfieac^y ascribed to 
" permission*' might he rendered iu- 
telligihle, namrly, that the present 
Archbishop of Dublin is invt^sred with 
a species of dispensing [lower^accord- 
inir to which he can supersede the con- 
stitutions of the C'hurch, can disregard 
the book of common prayer, and hy 
his siuiple "sic volo" convey all the 
power and authority imparted in the 
rite of ordinatioti. But we are per- 
suaded that no such power will be as- 
serted on his Graces behalf, and ac- 
cordinj^Iy, we conclude that the [>ro- 
po:aitton on which we have been com- 
menting h in itself untrue, and that no 
[•rivilcges belungiiig to his Grace the 
Archbishop of Dublin, and no peculi- 
arities in the case of Mr. Nolan furnish 
an exeuiie for it. 

Perhaps, altliough not correctly ex- 
pressed, the proposition has an in- 
telligible meaning. We shall recite 
the sentence preceding that in which 
the censurable expression occurs. 

*' Mr. Nolan having some lirae agtt 
appeared before tlit! Archbishop, applying 
fur some clerical appointment, was lound 
on examination not to puiiifiess llint know-* 
kdge which m requisite for a candidate 
for holy orders."' 

Then follows tlie objectionable pas- 
sage^ — 

" Hi« Grac* was ot course obliged to 
decline giving him at that time whfit 
wouiti have been equivahmt tu vrdinatiotit 
permisbioii to officiate as a clitrgymnn.'* 

It is possible that the term '* equi- 
vjlent" may have been designed to 
convey no more emphatic idea, and 
have been used in no higher setise than 
to intimate that permission lo officiate 
woidd be as effectual a recognition of 
Mr. Nolan's competency to discharge 
clerical duties, as that which takes 
place when, under other circumstant'es, 
a candidate is admitted to holy orders. 
In the ceremonial of ordination tliere 



96 



The Two Infubiiiomf and the Liberal Preu* 



[Jan. 



It a solemn attcatation given to tbe 
learning' ami ^adly conversation of 
tlinse persons who are canJidates, 
There ii also a solenm service, holy 
mid e<iTiiest prayers, and the appointed 
[ imposition of hkinds tliroii^h which 
[graced are sought ;ind imparted to 
f those who tire comoii^sioiied to preach 
God*s wordt and to u<lniiifHter sacra- 
I litents. irit be th€ htihit orhia Grace 
' the Archbishop to think or speak with 
I slitrht regard of the deep spiritnalitiea 
I of ordination, and if his thou^rhis are 
accustomed to rest on the public noli- 
iication of the cantliilates" worth, as 
I Uiat which is alone, or principally, iriv- 
I |)ortant, we can understand that the 
I word "equivalent*" has been iJelibe- 
tutely employed — the ceremonial uf 
» ordination, and the forms of pcrnusston 
1 baving, according to his Grace's judge- 
ment, one nieaniniBr ; but if iie believe 
I ihe elevatin*:; and suhdtiing^ service by 
; which the Church sets apart an order 
of men to minister before the Lord, 
[and si]p]tlicatej that he will bestow 
upon them richly his promised graces, 
I to be more than idle words he can^ 
Dot imve wilfully stjgge^ted or per- 
mitted the a])pli cation to \l of a dls- 

> parag^ing^, and inderd a profaning ex- 
pression, and he willt we arc persuaded^ 
take some public opp-ortunity to tnido 

\ the mischief it is likely to effect wher- 
ever his name possesses authority. 

Having assigned the reason why 
Mr. Nolan's apjdication to the Arch- 
bishop proved unsucceasful, the (tfficial 
fitalement proceeds to explain tbe re- 

1 fusal, continued to tliis day, of the 
permission which nearly three years 

f Bince had been vainly solicited. 

"In an int<*rviRw with ui latirly^ Mr, 
Nolan admitted that he was i[rnoniiii of 
the Scriptural at the period of thai ex- 

> fimitintioD^ nod that tha Archbishop had 
i acted rijorhtly in refusing him leave to 
\ preach- He added tlmt since that period 
^t>o Imd a(quit>d knowledge. Of this 

AaCHUlSliOP HAD NO MEANS OV 

6LVG1 Ma. Nolan having keveh 

^WSftBNTIO) lJI>l«t:L>' A SECONn TIM£ I'O 

H18 GllACE. When, iherofon?, Mr. 
Nolan commenciid pr<)arlitng in the dio- 
p Cete of Dublin, after huvin^ been refused 
I'misAion as above stntiid, lY became ite- 
tMory, as a mutter of course^ to direct 
ohibition against him." 

We have no right, and certainly 



1 



have no wtsli* to stt in iudgmeiit on 
any exercise of power which men in 
autliorit}- may think themselves called 
on to make. We have no wish to 
spy out blemishef, and are far, indeed, 
from the desire lo abridge episcopal 
authority, or to bring it into disrepute. 
For ourselves we distinctly and de- 
liberately alErni that we would not 
willingly, had we opportunity and 
power, ofEciaie in the diocese of Dublia, 
in opposition to the Archbishop's ex- ■ 
pressed direction and will ; and with ■ 
all our respect for Mr. Nolan*« high ■ 
character and attaininents, and without 
at all prc>vimiDg to judge whether the 
motives by which he was inOuenced 
ought not to be more con;; training than 
oiirst we should be well pleased to find 
that when that excellent man under- 
took to officiate in Dublin, he did so 
not deliberately aud with full know- 
ledge of hia Graces- objection* We 
are not, therefore, to be r^arded us 
condemning an exercise of episcopul 
authority of which we cannot see the 
advantage. But the same disposition 
to respect legitimate power whieb 
draws from us Ibis declaration, inEii- 
ences us also to protest against any 
exercise by which legitimacy itself i» 
threatened or shaken. The same 
jealousy wilh which, had we power» 
we would defeuti tbe rights or dignity 
of Archbishop Whately, would arouMt 
us lo remonstrate, if, inadverteotly, or 
of set design, we found his Grace ** re- 
inovitig his neighbour*s land-mark ;* 
and, as we would express unfeigned 
regret that Mr. Nolan, coming from 
the diocese of Meath, should take upon 
him» in opposition to the Archbisbop*$ 
will, to preach in Dublin^ so must we 
also regret that, in the explanation of 
bis Grace's conduct which has been 
offieitilly sent forth, an expression is to 
be Ibuod by which the authority and 
jurisdiction of every prelate of the 
Church in Ireland seems virtaally, 
though iudirectly, abrogated. 

** or this the Archbishop liad no tneani 
of judging, Mr, Nolan hnving never 
presented himself a second time to hia 
Onice," 

•* No means of judging ! !" Mr. Nolan 
was a curate in the diocese of Meath — 
he had obtained that permission* to 
officiate nrhicb the Archbishop of 



I 

I 
1 



^ li hat been affirmed thai Mr. Nolan was not duly licensed by hia diocetmi* 

r/e have not ascertiiiDed whether the assertion ii correct. It may have been ta hi« 

9i SB we have known it to be in the mstonce of many curaie.s that permisMon to 



1837.] 



The Twu InhihUiom^ and the Liberal Press. 



97 



Dublin pronounces cqtjivalf»Pt to or- 
dinatioHi and which, accorHingly, in 
bii Grace's judgment, at least btiars 
testimonj to the ** learn ing: and godly 
convertation** of the individual to 
vhom it IB grantwd — ind yet it i« »iiid 
thnt "the Archbishop had no means t^f 
judaringr* whether Mr. Nohin *vhad 
Acquired knowJedge/' Snreiy to US- 
certain that the important "permission" 
had been obtained, a personal inter- 
view witb Mr, Nolan was not ne> 
cesMTj. 

But we must be more exact* When 
the Archbishop declined giving- Mr* 
Nolan permis^sjon to officiate as a 
elergymun, he "pointed out t<» him h 
course of study, and i'jtpresscd his 
readiness to admit him to a re-ex- 
amination when better prfpured.** 
When next his Grace's attention was 
drawn to the rev. gentleman, it rmiiid 
him in circumstances which rendered 
the proffered re-examination nnncees- 
•ary. Mr, Nolan was curate of" Ath- 
boj. The fact of his hiiving- obtained 
the requisite permission to officiate. 
had become notorious^ and if the Arch- 
bishop desired no further satisfaction 
than an assurance upon this points he 
could have obtained it from a still more 
unsuspicious source than the Lips of a 
party interested, by directiug an in- 
quiry to be made at the office of the 
Eccleflastical Commission. When, 
therefore, bis Grace h represented as 
haviB? no means of judging as to the 
proficiency of Mr, Nuian, because that 
gentleman had not sought a second 
pBdience, it seems evident that a ♦* re- 
mination" was the sole ** means of 
judging" by which the Archbijihop of 
Dublin desired to he satisfied. 

This ** means of judging,** the cunrans 
of the Church, in our opinion, mo^'t 
wbely disallow. A bishop may ex* 



amine a minister who seeks at bis 
hands collation to a benefice. It is 
right that he should be afforded all 
facilities to judg-e the fitness of one to 
whom rnomt-ntous interests are to be 
entrusted, for the duties be is about to 
undertake* It is ngbt that he should 
htive assurance not only uf g^encral 
ability and good con vcrsation» but also 
of those qualities which promise har- 
mnnious and edifying corrrspon deuce 
and iiitercour?e between the minister 
and his paiticular confcrregation. But 
where there is no permanent iclation 
fomieii — ti'here the matter to be con- 
sidered is the t|UalitictiL?t»n rnpiirfd in 
a stranger who is solicited lo jterform 
some ucca*^ional aet of ministcriiil duty, 
it uppears that no .such authority is 
givi^n. It is diretted, in this case, to 
a!"Cortain that the slmnger is subjecl to 
episcopal governance, and that he is 
duly accredited and authorised by his 
proper superitjr. Where the requisite 
testimouiaJsare found, they are assuu^ed 
to ceitify compLtent knowled;je and 
propriety of life. By this reitjulntion 
the Church is preserved as a uatiima! 
cstabli^hmenL IfbijjhtJps were lodis*- 
allow the testim<miuls of their brethren, 
(and to iuifiist rui uu oxauiinution is to 
disallow them,) eacli diocese would be- 
come an c*iublislicd clmrch, separate 
and estranged from every other dio- 
cese, and perhaps ho?tiie also. By 
insisting on re-eiarnining Mr. Nolan 
the Arciihtshop of Dublin claimed a 
power which wuuld huve proved detri- 
mental to the general well-being of the 
church, and with which, tberefore, the 
canons did not endow him. The 
p'lwer to inhibit we do not dispute. 
Upon the exercise of that power we 
do not ^it in judgment ; but the reason 
given for the late exercise has been 
thrown out hefore the public, and we 



officiate wa» not giTen with all the formEilitiea which ecclesiastical discipline in its 
•irtriiies* enjoins. We do not enter at large into this part of the case, becnus^e our 
UfDited space will not allow of our undertaking it M'ilh a hfjpe of giving it a full 
ejcamioation* We confine ourselves to a review of the reasoiia assigned on behalf of 
the Archbifthop for his act of power. Mr. Nol«ni was inhibited, not for want of a 
liceate from the Bi&hop of Meath, but fteciuistj he ha<i not litunsi* m authority from 
hi» Grace of Dublin. Had the wkuI of letter^i testimonial from IiIh diucesan been 
the reason why Mr. Nolan was deniiMl permission to prefich, it is, we tru*;t, no mor« 
ihiin juftire to affirm that the inhibition or the explanation would h(iv«* minted as 
tnucli. The reasons assigned, however, are thai the authority of tiie Arrhbishop of 
Dublin bad not been obtained, and that hin Grare did not consider Mr. Nolan com- 

Ctent to the discharge of clerical duties. Such being tbe case, it v^ould be fiupe rations 
loor lo iniresti^te the ground of atsertions relative to a license From JVfeath, or 
lo ihe degree in which such considerations fiffect the question at iiaue. That question 
b aoi, wa» Mr. Nolan rightly inl ibitei) from preaching ?— hut, are the reasons a^ 
iSf ned on the part of his Grace th« Archbiihop satisfactorj ? 

- IX, B 




m 



Essatf9 on the Buglish Poetn. — No, IL 



[Jan, 



hiive no hesittition in (lecluririj^ that it 

I is misuli^fuctiiry arnl incorrect, Mr. 

L. J, Nolun Wiis refus*^tl prrmis^ion 

►^to officiate because of hi* allc;red i^- 

I j»orance. Tnat cdns«, with <lae respr^ct 

[for the regnliiitioiis of the Churth, 

Jetmlil not he assifrned against a setileiJ 

^and iifficiutins* miniMer. If Mr. Ntdiin 

were, as he professed, curate of Ath- 

boy, to accuse him of ignorance would 

' be a violation of decorum* a wide 

' departnre from the respect and defer* 

> cnce owing to the bishop who had ad- 

' mitted Inm into bis diocese, and in- 

i deed a eontuinelions tb3rejg"ard of the 

canons. If \\f. was not whut lie pto* 

I fessed to be, there waa a still better 

ground thun ignorance for the iidii- 

|>ition. But Mr. Nolan was, we hope^ 

we may §ay (unless promotion has 

removed hinij hy curate of Alhboy. 

The Archbisnop does not express a 

donbt of ilie fact. We therefore com* 

phnn, not that he issued an inhibition, 

which we bcUeve it may have been 

competent for him to ilo» but that he 

required wiiat vtw^ not competent for 

hitn, a minister iu the diocese of 

I^Iecith, to submit to his examination ; 

or, what tvas still more objeetioniiblej 

that he imputed ignorance to that 

\ ininister, beeau«ie he b^d considered 

* him ignorant before he !md quilified 

bimself to undertake the d otitis of a 

cure, and beeunse in des[iite of the 

lesrimimy home by his cleiicat ap- 

{luintment, he was resolved to think 
jirn so siilh 

1 1 is nnl matter of surprise that an 
iidiihiiion issMcd uiKler such eireiim- 
gtancea, und jtHtified by such explaria- 
I tions, shall have brou^'-ht gladness to 
the enemies of the Protestant Church 
\ and religion, or that it should cause to 
lis niuch anxiety and sorrow. The 
whole transaction seems to Indicate a 
separation of the diocese of Dublin 



from the national establishment, dis- 
closing a very rem?irkahle peeidiurity 
of relitrioii3 o[»inion, and as^^uming a 
very extmordinary pnviieire in marters 
of ecclesiastical jun>tliction. There 
mny be f^nnd some who xvill say tliat 
in commenting nn such tu^nife^tatiotis 
of sentiment and belief, we have aji- 
pliefi oursi Ives to topic* tiu-ideatal and 
colliterjl, to the exelu^iion of what was 
more obviously tlie matter most to be 
re;iarded. (hir rt'ply is, that we have 
addressed oar obser^iiiioiis Ui Unit 
which we accounted of ihe highesit 
moment — to principles whieh must 
ever lie matter of grave ahirm, rather 
than to an incident which, considered 
apart from the niiixims by which it ts 
justified, might have beent for a time 
a sidiject of poignant regret, and then 
a warning against subsecpjent inad* 
vertencies. We looked upou the docu- 
ments issued in the Archbishop's jusii- 
|i Cation, as cnntiuni ng expressions by 
which the holy rite of ordination was 
prolaned, and advancing claims by 
whii'h epi!^e(>])al authority is dis- 
allowed ; and wherever we find such 
expres.-<ions, whether they are set 
forth as con^ilitutiuy: professedly the 
substance of the doenment in which 
they occur, or Bcem purenlheticallv' in- 
sinuatfid, like the celebrated " propon- 
ent i bus legatis^of Pins I V. we shall con- 
tinue to pronounce them the scandals 
which lurist imperatively demand cor- 
rection, hohling thill the severity under 
which the pures^t individual muy suffer 
or sink» is ntat worthy to lie compared 
with the iiijury done by a proposi- 
ti on » appearuiLT as pait of iin official 
statement, which a knowledge of its 
a^tthor iiloiic would prevent us from 
pronouneimf a d^ finnTory libel on the 
spiritual odices of our Church, and an 
avowal of contempt for ficr constituted 
authorities. 



I 
I 



ESSAYS ON TRK B^GLISff POETS. — NO, II. 



HENltY MORE. 



Tiir. poenH of H'Tiry More. t>ie Pla- 
toidst, nre but seldom opened in our 
dav ; the neglect into which they have 
fallen, tbongh easily enough acconnted 
lor, is we think unJeservcd. We know 
Imt of two aecrvunts of the volume, 
tmc iu the Omnianai and a second in 
the fitlh volume of the Retro^ective 



Review* neither of them esliibitm^ 
lb© peculiar character of the poems ; 
and both critics, it would seem, wholly 
uninterested by the philo^^ophy of the 
Mriter on whom they were comment- 
ing. We therefore think we are doing 
si>me service in bringing before the 
public some extracts from the works of 



1837,] 



Essays on the English Poets, — No. IL 



99 



a man, S(»me of \vho«e writiiiyrs w(?rc 
more admired and more influential than 
any appearing at the same period ; 
the correspondent of Descartes — the 
opponent of Hobbes — the friend of 
Milton — one whom Burnett describes 
as *• an open-hearted and sincere Chris- 
tian philosopher," — of whom Hobbes 
said *'that if his own philosophy was 
not true he knew none that he should 
sooner like than Morc*s of Cam- 
bridge." 

He was bom at Grantham in Lin- 
colnshire, in the year 1614. His 
father, Alexander More, a zealous 
CaWinist, took anxious care to educate 
his son in his own sentiments ; and 
the after-life of the young student 
being passed in combating these opi- 
nions, has made him anxious to record 
that a master was selected for him' of 
rigid Calvinistic opinions. At this 
period, an uncle of his prevailed upon 
nis father to send him to Eton. He 
relates his departure for Eton, and his 
father^s parting injtmction not to de- 
sert those religious principles in which 
he had been carefully instructed. But 
the young inquirer had already taught 
himself to regard the doctrine of pre- 
destination as taught by his father and 
his tutor to be inconsistent with any 
adequate notions of the justice and 
gooaness of God. At Eton he had 
the opportunity of expressing his opi- 
nions aloud ; and the theologian teils 
of a dispute between him and his 
uncle, in which at the age of fourteen 
be stoutly maintained hi» own opinions 
though chidden by his uncle and me- 
naced with correction for his "imma- 
ture forwardness in philosophising.** 

In spite of this controversial divinity 
the boy was religious, and contempla- 
tive ; he tells us, that from his earliest 
childhood an inward sense of the di- 
y'me presence was so strong upon him 
and so habitual, that he did then be- 
lieve and feel there could be no thought 
or word hidden from God. At Eton 
his progress in Greek is described as 
unusual. In dtfe time he was removed 
to Cambridge and i)laced under a tutor, 
not a Calvinist. 

" And now,** says he, •• a mighty and 
almost iromodemte thirst after knowledge 
po98e«ed me throughout, especially for 
that which was Natural, and above all 
othen, that which is said to dive into 
the deepest causes of things, and Aris- 
totle calls the first aud tiie highest phi- 
losophy or wisdom." 

In this temper he read, before he 
took liis first degree, Aristotle, Cardan, 



and Scaliger. The Platonists, whose 
works he next studied, coincided more 
wiili the peculiar turn of his mind ; 
and he read with delight Ficinup, Plo- 
tinus, Trismcifistus and the rest of 
them. A volume of mystical divinity 
— the famous *• Theologia Germanica* 
about this time fell into his hands and 
gave him grreat delight. The author- 
ship of this work is doubtful ; but it 
has been ascribed with great probabi- 
lity to Lauterus a Dominican monk, 
Mho was styled the illuminated divine ; 
and in whose writings Luther was 
fond of acknowledging that he had 
found more "solid and sincere theology 
than in all the scholastic doctors of all 
the universities put together." 

" That precept,'* says More, giving an 
account of this period of his life, ** which 
this author so mightily inculcates, namely, 
that we should thoroughly put off and 
extinguish our own proper will; that 
being thus dead to ourselves we may live 
alone to God and do all things whatso- 
ever by his instinct or plenary permission, 
was so connatural as it were, and agree- 
able to my most intimate reason and 
conscience that I could not of anything 
whatsoever be more cleHrly or certainly 
convinced." 

More 8|)eaks of his habitual indo- 
lence at this period, by vhich, how- 
ever, he seems to mean little more 
than his unwiHin«.'n<'Ss to commit to 
writing the result of his studies ; for 
his mind seems to have been engaged 
with the fullest strife of all its powers, 
on the highest subjects that can be pro- 
posed to human investigation. The 
writing his contemplations, he repre- 
sents as in a manner a necessary 
result of his natural constitution, 
•* which,** to use his own words, 

" freeing me from all the servitude of 
those petty designs of ambition, covet- 
ousness, and pleasing entanglements of 
the body, I might either lie first for ever 
in an inactive idleness, or else be moved 
by none but very great objects, amongst 
which the least was the contemplation of 
this outward world, whose several powers 
and properties, touching variously on my 
tender senses, made to me such enravish- 
ing muHc, and snatched away my soul 
into so great admiration, love and desire 
of a nearer acquaintance with that prin- 
ciple from which all these things did flow, 
that the pleasure and joy that frequently 
accrued to me from hence, is plainly un- 
utterable, though I have attempted to 
leave some marks and traces thereof ia 
my philosophical poems. But being well 
advised by the dictates of my own con- 



10D 



E^saifs on the English Poets. — No. IL 



[Jan, 



KiiiBce mid clear idfurmniion of thoM) 
holy onicleft wliich we all diiservedly re- 
vtsrtince that Gud res^^ivea Ijis choii:ii*t 
si'crvts Tor tbt; pureaL miDils* cuad th.it It 
is uncWiim-ij ot *plnt, not distnuL^^ of 
place* iliat iltssievei s us trrjin ihi! DelLy. 
I wtM fully tunvinrtid tbiit true bulineHs 
wai tbe imly salii i^atmnee jrjti> divin« 
knowiedgpj wild liuviiig an unstinken be- 
lief of tlie exiittMtce of God und of his 
will, I bit via uhnuld be holy even aa be is 
holy; ihtTi* Wiis nutliiii^ thai i& imly 
ojiiful tbitt could upveiif U> me, n-^sisH'iJ by 
Biich u power to be uiiooiiquemble winch 
therefore ur^^^ed tii« eeriouitly to set my- 
self to tbe tH«k. Ot the ifxperitrnce citui 
events of which ente^p^i^e ray second mul 
third ciiiito of tbe life ot th*« ^oul is fl 
real and fRithfui re< ord. My enjoy menu 
then encreasiug witli ray viilork'S, and 
iiinocency, nnd simplicity, filling ray mind 
with inuS^ibble dellgbt ia God atid bis cre- 
ation, I found myself as hmth lo die, that 
in, to think m^ soul mortai^ m I was when 
I was a child to be railed to ^^o to h^d lu 
Butninur evenings, tbertj bem^ Rtill liglil 
euough as I thought to enjoy ray play, 
which Mditude put me up^m my ^T»i 
search into the nature of the suul wiiith 
X pur^ut^d chieiy by tliL' ^uidiiure ot the 
school of Plwtu, whose pbiiwopby to this 
Tery day I look li^RPn to he more than 
hunmn in ihe vhiel strokes thereof." 

Mi>re pursued his studies so mtently 
hat he sooD reilnceii fiimseif to **great 
thinness of bntiy." His lang-iiage wa* 
CL, loured with the expri scions of the 
mystiral divines. Hs^ spoke of hia ex- 
periences and h\& coniULunieatic»n« with 
the divine spirit with such fervunt thtit 
his enthusiasm was made a graund of 
ohjeL-tiuti to him wlieti he wiis eandi* 
date for a fellowship ; and he was 
nearly rejeeted till they, in wiiose hai*d 
the election was, were satistied hy 
those who kiK'w bim intimately, thcit 
that the same student wa& a pleasant 
companion and *' in his way, one uf 
|tbe merriest GreekB they were ac- 
ifluainttid wiih/' His earliest publiea- 
llon was " Psytdiozoia, or the first part 
^ the soii^ t4 tbe sionl; containintr Si 
rChristianoPhitouical display of life,'* 
|j.n a tew years aher, he reprinted it 
with tbe other poems of wliirh we pur- 
pose to give an aecount. The voliniie 
was inscribed to ku hither. 

** You descrre," my* the young poet, 
«*you deserve the patruniige of bitter 
p>urm» than thfae; ihou^h you may lay a 
mofft proper claim to them than any, you 
hnving IVom my childhood tuned n^ine 
#ars to Spentwr'a rhymes^ enter tiiiuii^g 
UM on winter ai^htd with tliat incompnra- 



rable piece ot hifi * The Fairy Qtiaen,* a 
puem as riihly fraug^ht with diviii« mo- 
rality as phiiJtt*ie/' 

The first of these poems, Pt^cUuStMi, 
h a bold etTort to pr<seiit to llic rea- 
defs conceptimjs the Pldlonic Tr»dd, 
lie expresses great anxii^ty that his 
reader shunld not regard bim as iWititf 
inorr than explaining tbe theology of 
Ploliiins, and the biter Plat enisle. 
Like C*deri<lge in onr own day, he re- 
gards the dt»etriiie of the Trndtv as a 
truth dedueible from the idea ot God, 
even without revehilion. Put white 
he thinks it aidB the argitrnent for ihe 
doctrine that '' tbe Platonists, llie licst 
and diviue.st of pliilosoph* rs, and the 
Clirisiians the best of all that do pro- 
fess religion, do boih coiteur tiiat there 
iii II Trinity ;" be yet adds, " in what 
tbey^ difter I leave to be found out ac- 
eordini( to the safe direction of that 
infallible rule of faith, the Holy Word/" 
Tbe Platonic Triad, then — and not 
any mystery of revelatii>n — is the *yb» 
ject of tbe poem. But our Flatonigt 
does not seek to cotieeal thut he is a 
Christian, and in this way ihe lan- 
guage of two systems becomes insen- 
sibly blended, — we think unwisely, 
tbougb assuredly not irreverently. — 
Flatomsm becomes with More an alle- 
gory, under which be veils some points 
of Christianity, as Speriser, under tbe 
name of Pan, sings of onr Lord,— ^s 
Paul— the illustration is M ore's — 
transfers what Aratus says of Jupiter 
to God hiujself: 

T»u yit^ M^in T^fytf if^i«* 

Mure — though he dtsclairas con- 
tending far the identity (ff the thought, 
yet is anxioys to sbuvi that the cjrres- 
pondence of naojes and attributes, in 
the Platotiie sclierae, with those in tiie 
books of the New Testament, imply 
some agreement of ntuure, — thai there 
is such similitude that one may conve- 
niently be regarded a^ tbe symbol uf 
the other— and that it is no unnatural 
digression in tbe poet, if tbe lower 
forms of tbe Platonic schools suggest 
to him analugies, more or less of^svurc;, 
by which be may recall to the mindfl 
of his bearers spiritual truths, and per- 
haps peisuade some sjiirits that even 
with lespect to the bignest truths, God 
was not let\ without a witness amonj^ 
the Gentiks. 

In a preface to hts first poem. More 
ei hi bits the parallelism of titlei be- 



18370 



Henry More, 



101 



longing to the second Unitu af each 
Trmd, 

The verbal resembknces, at least, 
are very remarkable. In the Platonic 
scheme God Is gpnkrn dP as making- 
the world by his Word. The visible 
and outward crt^ation la formed ac- 
cording" to the Wi?;dom of God, or the 
Intellecttial World, In their lang-uagCf 
this Intellectual World is the idea of the 
Qutwiird creation. In their lang nu^e, 
loo, the Logos is the Redeemer of the 
lapsed world, viz, mankind^ — whom 
he restores apiin into man ; i. e. into 
wisdom and righteonsness. 

** Take in the whole Trinity/' says 
More, **atid yoti shall find a stmiife con> 
cordance and harmony betwixt the iia- 
lara of each hypo«t;itis (pi*i^on) in either 
in their ordtff. Atovc, or Akad, [Atove 
i» the Good — Ahad, One^] is simply the 
iir»t principle of all beings, the talher of 
all existences, — and the universal crea- 
tion ife but his faofiily, and therefore^ he 
has a right of ira posing \iiWii on the 
vholt: creation* The natural cri^ation 
keepeih this law, but man breaki it ; 
however, it is still propounded to hiiHi 
and when it takes hold of him strikes 
him with dread and horrort — hence his 
eztemal compliance with the law through 
fear and force as it were. And this," 
says More, ^* I conceive is to be under 
the law that makes nothing perfect This 
God vouchsafesi sometimes, to second 
with the gift of his Son. * 9 '>ffS&t hw Xtyn 
viatTty»¥§t vitf, as Philo, thi^ Flatouist, 
cnWa him. He cleanseth us of our sins^ 
he healeth us of our intirmities, shapes 
118 from an inward vital principle (even 
^IM thera/io sffntt/r/iV figurtfs out a tri^e) 
IB to a new life and shape, even into the 
image of God/* 

More now quotes from Aristotle his 
judgment of those w bo are eminently 
good in themselves, livinif from a vital 
principle of morality within. Ketrm T«r 

Agiuist such there is do law, for they 
arc themselve«« a law ; the very words 
of the Apostle. And in the same pas- 
sage Aristotle says, they are no more 
under the law than a deity can lie un- 
der tb€ law, — for 'tis as if they should 
lake upon them to rule Jnpiter himself, 
Kud share his kindgdoyi. 

The last hyposta.sis in the Platonic 
Triad b Uniiiore, or Psyche, ^hom 
Flottnu^ cdlb I he celestial Venus, from 
whom is boni the linivf-nly Cupid — 
Ilivini' Lc^vr, Iti this \Iofe ai^ain 
•**c* J* COT respond en c<* with Christian 
truth ; but he entreats his reader to 
remember that the happiness uf man 



is not to know the essence, but to ferl 
the influence of the Divinity, and to 
be baptizf^d in the name of the Futhcr, 
Son, and Holy Ghost, is of more con- 
scqui'uce tbun to underetand all curi- 
ous and aeure schooUtructs. 

Before we transrrifje any part of the 
Pjfj/rJiozoifi we Hiid it iipcessary to "iiiy 
that Psyche is the soul of the world — 
that then 9he is described as the soul 
of all Alterify. The meaning may be 
thus explained ; as the seed of a pintit 
hath the whole tree, hmnehes. leaves, 
and fruits at once, in one point, atier a 
manner closed up^ but potent! ally, so 
etemily is said by the Plat^mist to bsive 
all the world indivisible present at 
once, and that actually* As the semi- 
nul form spreads out itT^tdf, and the 
body it animates into distant branches, 
from the quiet and silent si*ed, («rx«( 
i« e<riiif£itT4f ng^a^irsv) so doth Psyche^ 
the soul of the woild, make that actual 
ill time ami sncct^s^iidu which could not 
bif here below in bodies at once. This 
the Platonists called aiUnti/. W^hen 
our readers have reconciled ihemselves 
to tile names which More gives his alle- 
gorical |»erious and places, — names sup- 
plied to him eilher from the itvbbinical 
Hebrew, and the dialect of the Cab- 
balisis, from the Greek of Plotinus, 
and from the Latin of bis interpreters — . 
we think they will admire the extreme 
fre»'dnm of bis style. His vocabulary 
is neither abundiint nor very poetical, 
but ia distinifnij^hed for great clearness, 
so that on a very difficult subject no 
reader giving tiiir attention, can be at 
any loss for his meaning. 

It bus been said— untruly we think^ — 
that Spciisier is most interesting to 
those readers who forget, or who have 
never attended to tlie allegory. How- 
ever this be, the contrary is cer- 
tainly the case with Mure. The poet 
is lo!^t in the phtlosopher^ — he in fact 
deals with subjects which are bcynnd 
the range of fancy — which refuse the 
aid of ordinary illustration — .^nd his 
best praise is, that be succeeds in fas- 
tening his reader's watrhful atteiilioii 
upon the operations of his own mind. 
The opening of the jiocm gives no 
unfavourable specimen of bis manner. 
Let not the reader be deterred by ihe 
half-dozen scholastic words which, with 
a moment's attention^ will ceas*e to in- 
terrupt bis progress, but give More the 
bpnclit of the same attention which he 
would to any other writer, cither of 
our own or any other country, whose 
sryle is not yet qnite fanoiiliar . 



102 Essays on the English Poets. — No. 11. [Jan. 

*• Nor ladies loves, nor knights brave martinll deeds, 

Ywrapt in rolls of hid antiquitie ; 

But th' inward fountain, and the unseen seeds, 

From whence are these, and what so under eye 

Doth fall, or is record in mcmorie, 

Psyche, I'll sing. Psyche ! from thee they sprong. 

O life of time, and all alterity I 

The life of lives instill his nectar strong:, 
My soul t* inebriate, while I sinsr Psyche*9 song. 

" But thou, whoe're thou art that hear'st this strain. 

Or re:id*st 'these rhymes which from Platonick rage 

Do powerfully flow forth, dare not to blame 

My forward pen of loul miscarriage, 

If all that's spoke, with thoughts more sadly sage 

Dnth not agree. Aly task is not to try 

What's simply true, I onely do engage 

My self to make a lit discovery. 
Give some fair glimpse of Plato*s hid philosophy. 

" What man alive that hath but common wit 

(When skilfuU linimer *suing his intent, 

Shall fairly well pourtray and wisely hit 

The true proportion i»f each lineament. 

And in right colours to the life depaint 

The fulvid eagle with her sun-bright eye) 

Would waxen wroth with inward choler brent 

'Cause 'tis no buzard or discolour'd Pie? 
Why man ? I meant it not. Cease thy fond obliquie. 

'* So if what's consonant to Plato's school, 

( Which well agrees with learned Pythagore, 

Egyptian Trismegist, and th' antique roll 

Of ("haldee wisdome, all which time hath tore. 

But Plato and deep Plotin do restore,) 

Which is my scope, I sing out lustily : 

If any twitten me for such strange lore, 

And me all blamelesse brand with infamy, 
God purge that man Irom fault of foul malignity. 

" The Ancient of dayes. Sire of Eternitie, 
Sprung of himself, or rather no wise sprong : 
Father of lights and everlasting glee, 



«*This Aliad of himself the JEon fair ^ 
Begot the brightnesse of his father's grace ; 
No living wight in heav'n to him compare, 
No work his goodly honour such disgrace. 
Nor lose thy time in telling of his race. 
His beauty and his race no man can tell : 
His glory darkeneth the sunne's bright face; 
Or if ought else the sunne's bright face excell, 

His splendour would it dim, and all that glory quell. 

*< This is that ancient Eidos omniforra, 
F^ount of all beauty, root of flow'riug glee. 

" F'arre otherwise it fares in this same Lond 
Of truth and beauty, then in mortall brood 
Of earthly lovers, who impassion'd 
With outward forms (not rightly understood 
From whence proceeds this amorous sweet flood, 
And choice delight which in their spright tliey feel : 
Can outward idole yield so heavenly mood ?) 

«« Like to Narcissus, on the grassie shore, 
Viewing his outward face in watery glasse ; 
Still as he looks, his looks adde evermore 
New lire, new light, new love, Lew comely grace 



183 .] Henry More. 103 

To*8 inward form ; and it displayes Hpuce 
Its hidden raves, and so new lustre sends 
To that vain shadow ; but the boy, alas ! 
Unhappy lioy ! the inward nought attends, 
But in foul filthy mire, love, life, and form he blends. 

" And this I wot is the souVs excellence, 

That from the hint of every painted glance 

Of shadows sensible, she doth from hence 

Her radiant life, and lovely hue advance 

To higher pitch, and by good governance 

May wained be from love of fading light 

In outward forms, having true cognizance. 

That those vain shows are not the beauty bright 
That takes men so, but what they cause in humane spriglit. 

«< Farre otherwise it fares in ^on*8 realm. 

O happy close of sight and that there's seen ! 

That there is seen is good Abinoam, 

Who Atove hight: and Atuvus I ween, 

Cannot be lestw then he that sets his eyen 

On that abysse of good eternally, 

The youthfull ^on, whose fair face doth shine 

While he his father's glory doth espy, 
NViiich waters his tine flowering forms with light from high. 

<* Not that his forms increase, or that they die : 
For iEon-land, which n^en Idea call. 
Is nouifht but life in full serenity. 
Vigour of life is root, stock, branch, and all ; 
Nought here increaseth, nought here hath its fall : . 



But th* eldest daughter of this aged sire, 
She Uranora hight 

«* Whilome me chanced (O my happy chance !) 
To spie this spotlesse, pure, fair Uranore : 
I spi'd her, but, alas! with slighter glance 
Beheld her on the Atuvsan shore. 
She stood the last ; for her did stand before 
The lovely Autocal. But first of all 
Was mighty Atove, deeply covered o'er 
With unseen light. No might imaginall 
May reach that vast profundi tie. 

The rest of the canto is occupied this outward visible world no new 

with a description of the dress and the fancy, for in the Sybilline Oracles this 

marriage of Psyche. The garment is made tlic apparel of the deity. We 

of Psyche, the Soul of the Universe, is quote More's own translation 

** I am Jehovah, well my words perpend. 
Clad with the frory sea, all mantled o'er 
With the blue heavens, shod with the earth I wend, 
The stars around me dance, th' air doth me cover." 

In our own days, the philosophic the same language to his Macrocos- 
poet of Germany gives something of mus — 

** In the tempests of life, in the currents of motion, 
Hither and thither, 
Over and under. 
Wend I and wander ; 
Birth and the grave — 
A limitless ocean — 
Where the resllebs wave 
Uudolates ever — 



104 Ena^i on the Engluh PwU,^No. IL 

Under and over. 

Their loUiDg slrifei 

I miRitrle and hover 

Tbe spirit of Ufe — - 
Hoar the murtnitring looin of Time unawed, 
At I weare tbe living maptle of G»d," 



[Jan. 



The Jangimge of Phi!o JudiEoa in 
descrilnrig ih*- giirmfiit uf Aaron, in 
which he says m symbol of the visible 
world was intPnJed, su^ge^ied More's 
drefis of U ran ore, and is alluded to by 
liim in the ptissug^t? we shall ijuote* 
This mixture of Gentile and Hebrew 
fancies seems to have given sinj^ldr 
deliglit to More. There seems to \\% 
however, to be some confusion in his 
thought* between the Gbbe which we 
inhabit* which ut times seems the only 
thine- he would typify by the gurnient 
of Piyehct (as, for instance, where ho 



say ft that the garmetit is circular, to 

ei press the shape of ihe worW,) and 
liie whole Universe. In this, however, 
it b possible that we have not read 
him alight. The jfoldeo balls that 
hung- upon the frini^es of Aaron** 
sacred garments, and the interpreta- 
tion jfiven bv Philo, certainly su^* 
gre«tcd the halls at the hero of Psyche » 
robt, ami the allu^icm to the planetary 
system. The whole passage is a pleas- 
ing one. Thti mii><ic ot the ver«e, 
thotiffh lesa rich and complex, is not 
unlike Speu»er. 



** But if conjecture may stand in truth's stead 
Tbe garment circuliir I do aread. 

•* For who can it iinlblrh tmd reade aright 
The divers colours, fttid the linrtures (air, 
Which in this various vesture ch»uge« write 
Of light, of du«kishne»i, of thick, of rare 
ConfiiatentMJs : ever new chanpes nmrre 
Former irapreftiion*. The duhiou-s ihine 
Of changenhle «ilk stuffs, tlhi« panseth farre* 
Farre more varnitVi. and farre more fine. 

Thin inter woven silk with gold or silver twin** 

•• There you may see the eyelids of the mom. 
With lofty silver itrch displmd ith* east. 
And in the midst the burniaht gold doth bum; 
A locii purpli} mantle in the west 
Dolh close the day, and hap the sun at rest* 
Nor dolh these htmping shews the azur quoll* 
Or others colours: where't beseem etb best 
There tlicy themselves dispose ; so se«mly well 

Doth light and chan^ug tinctures deck this goodly meiL 



*< But yet one thing I saw that 111 not passe. 
At the low hem of this large garment gay 
Number of goodly balla there pendent was. 
Some like the sun. some like the moone's white ray* 
Some like dij^coloured Tellus, when the day 
Betcries her painted coat : in wondrous wise 
Tbase coloured ones do circle, float, and play. 
As tboee farre shining rotind* in opi'n skies: 



This is but the external !>inn of the 
stole — the outward and visible. The 
successive films of which it consists, 
the poet thinks it now difticult to de- 
scribe. The first, that which is nearest 
to the outward surface, he calls ph^Bu \ 
and this typifies— «ay rather is life— 
life in iu lowest degree— that whjcb i> 
alike shared by plants and animate. 
Tbis he now and then calls plantal 



life. The next film is that m which 
touch, Aphc or Hapht^ reside — 9ensa- 
tive or irritable life. And the third 
inward and more mysterious web, is 
ini%'i native X\ii^—Semcie^ in the lan- 
guage of thf platfpnic poet. When we 
luve added that by Hiflc is meant 
mntter as oppoitcd to *ptril-^or rather 
I be incapacity or maligniiu (to use the 
language of Plotinus and his followers) 



18370 



iftmrif More* 



W3 



of the CTttture apart or iJivided from difficiilt as any wriling of the tame 
the diYine life, we have paid enough period* 
^^«Dder the following' passage as little 

•♦ Tha first of ihem fair film*, we Phyii« name. 

Nothing in nattiro did ynu ever spy^ 

Beit there's ponrtraid : all blasts both wild and tame, 

Each bird i!> here, and every buzzing fly ; 

All forrest^wark in in ibh tapestry : 

The oke, the holm, Uie ash, the alpine tree» 

The lonesome huzuml, th' eaple, and the py* 

The buck, the hear, thu honr, the hnri*, the bee, 
The brize, the btnck^arni'd cluck, the gnat, the buttiiTflie. 

** Snakes, adders, hydraes, drafona, toads* and froge, 
Th' ow^o-littei -loving ape^ the WDrnn, and snail, 
Tli* utidnunted lion, horses, mea, and dogs, 
Their number's infiiiile. 



•* Foul Hyle, mietresse of the mory f^troEid, 

Oli her withstands, and taketh great delight 
To hinder Phy»V work, and work her all despi^ht. 

" The self-eame envious witch with poyion'd dew, 
From her foul eben-box, all linclures stains, 
Which fairly good be in hid Phy§io hew : 
Thai lilm all tinctures fair in it contains; 
But she their goodly glory much re^trainfiu 
She colours dJmi ; cluga tastes; and damps the loundi 
Of swietest aiusiick ; touch to scorching pains 
She tijiUft, or bai^r tumulU; amelb confoundi^. 

O horrid vvuaib of hell, that with such ill abouiidf. 

" So Phyais. Next^ia Arachnea thin. 
The th inner of these two, hut thinu'st of all 
la Semele, that's next to Psyche'a skin. 
The second we thin Amchnea call, 
Because the *|iiHer, that in princes hall 
Takes hold with her industrious hand, and weave* 
Her dainty tender wel, far short doth fall 
Of this soft yielding ve«t — this ve»t deeeivei 

The spider's curious touch, and of her pmise bereavet. 

** Jn midst of this fine web doth Hap he sit ; 
She JB the centre from whence all the light 
Dtspreads, and goodly, glorious forms do slit 
Hither and thither. 

*♦ In this clear shining mirror Psyche seee 
All that fulk under sense, what ere la done 
Upon the earth, the deserts shaken trees. 
The mournful winds, the solitary wonne 
Of dreadful beasts, the Lyhian lious moan. 
When their hot eutniiU seorch with hunger keen, 
And they to God for meat do deeply groan ; 
He hears their cry, he sees of them unfteeo— 

His eyelids compass all that m the wide world been* 

" He sees the weary traveller ml down 
Id the waste field oft-times with carefull chenr : 
i^ chafed feet, nnd the long way to town, 
His burning thir^t^ faintne&sc, and panick (ear, 
Because he bees not him that stands so near, 
Fetch irom his »oul deup oighs with count nance iiad, 
Biit he \oakbon to wlmm nought doth dispear : 
O happy man that full per!»uii;i»ion had 

Ol this ! if right at home^ naught at him were ydrad 



106' Essays on the English Poets. — No. IL [Jan.* 

' << A many sparrows for small price be sold. 

Yet none of them on his wings on earth doth close 

Lighting full soft, but that eye doth behold, 

Their jets, their jumps, that mirour doth disclose. 

Thrice happy he that putteth his repose 

In his all-present God. That Africk rock 

Buttouch't with heedlesse hand, Auster arose 

With blu8t*ring rage, that with his irefull shock 
And moody might be made the worlds frame nigh to rock. 

*< And shall not He, when his anointed be 

III handled, rise, and in hiswrathfull stour 

Disperse, and quell the haughty enemy. 

Make their brisk sprights to lout and lowly lowr ? 

Or else confound them quite with mighty power ? 

Touch not my kings, my prophets let alone. 

Harm not my priests ; or you shall ill endure 

Your works sad payment and that deadly lone ; 
Keep off your hand from that high holy rock of stone. 

** Do not I see ? I slumber not nor sleep. 

Do not I hear ? each noise by shudy night 

My mirour represents ; when mortals sleep 

Their languid limbs in Morpheus* dull delight, 

I hear such sounds as Adam's brood would fright. 

The dolefull echoes from the hollow hill 

Mock howling wolves ; the woods with black bedight 

Answer rough Pan, his pipe and eke his skill, 
And ali the Satyr-routs rude whoops and shoutings shrilL 
" But Haphe and Arachne Til dismisse. 

And that fourth vest, rich Semele'* display ; 

The largest of all foure and loosest is 

This floting flouring changeable array. 

How fairly doth it shine, and nimbly play. 

Whiles gentle windes of Paradise do blow. 

And that bright sun of the etemall day 

Upon it glorious light and forms doth strow, 
And Ahad it with love and joy doth overflow. 

** This all-spread Semele doth Bacchus bear, 
Impregn'd of Jove or On. He is the wine 
^ That sad down-drooping senses wont to rear. 
And chearlesse hearts to comfort in ill tine. 
He 'flames chaste poets brains with fire divine ; 
The stronger spright the weaker spright doth sway ; 
No wonder then each phansie doth incline 
To their great mother Semel, and obey 
The vigorous impresse of her enforcing ray. 

" Prophets and poets have their life from hence ; 
Life fire into their marrow it searcheth deep ; 
This flaming fiery flake doth choak all sense, 
And binds the lower man with brazen sleep : 
Corruption through all his bones doth creep. 
And rtiging raptures do bis soul outsnatrh : 
Round-turning whirlwinds on Olympus steep 
Do cast the soul, that earst they out did catch : 
Then stiller whispering winds dark visions unlatch. 

** But not too farre, thou bold platonick Swain . 

Strive not at once all myst'ries to discover 

Of that strange school: more and more hard remain 

As yet untold. But let us now recover 

Strength to ourselves by rest in duly houre. 

Great Psyche's parentage, marriage, and weeds. 

We having sung according to our power, 

That we may rise more fresh for morning deeds, 
Jjct's here take inne and rest our weary sweating steeds." 

♦ Iniai{iuiilion. 



1837.] 



Henry More. 



1Q7; 



The marriage of Mon and Uranore, 
and the emanation of each particular 
life from the union of the Divine Reason 
with the Spirit of Universal Life, in 
iEonland is fancifully described. The 
poet has not yet descended to earth. 
The plantal, and irritable, and im- 
atriiiative life — nay, the outward robe 
of Psyche with all its ornaments, are as 
yet but idecu. The union of Movl and 
Psyche is indissoluble. The poet 
denies them to be of the same essence, 
but says that the union is of that inti- 
mate nature which, subsisting between 
the body and thesoul^ forms of both one 



man. The Platonists sought thus to 
explain the mysteries of natural philo- 
sopl»y, by statinir in their symbolical 
language that Natuie or Psyche was 
united with the divine intellect — that 
she beheld there as in a mirror the 
forms aflerwards to be exhibited in 
actual and outward manifestations, 
and that all things created were in 
conformity with that intellect — that 
without him was made nothing that was 
made. The moral mysteries hidden 
by this their Platonic veil, are, we 
think, beautifully touched by our poet. 
Ahad speaks — 



« My 6r8t borne sonne, and thou ray daughter dear, 
Look on your aged sire, the deep abysse, 
In which and out of which yuu iirst appear ; 
I Ahad hight, and Ahad onenesse is : 
Therefore be one (his words do never misse) 
They one became. I Hattove also hight, 
Said he ; and Hattove goodness is and blisse : 
Therefore in goodnesse be ye fa:»t unite: 

Let unity, love, good, be measures of your might" 



The second canto of the Psi/chozoia 
describes, in the tirst instance, the Uni- 
verse, (including Ahad^ the First — the 
Eternal — and Hi/le — which we must 
describe in the poet's own words as 
*• positive negation,") as one uniform 
being, ** no particular straightened 
being as yet being made ; no earth or 
any other orb being as yet kneaded 
together ; all homogenial, simple, 
single, pure, pervious, unknotted, un- 
coacted — nothing existing but those 
eight orders." The eight orders are 
Hyle— 

*■ The lowest step of that profouDdity.'* 

Next is Tasis or extension — next to 
that is Plantal life — then Sentient life ; 
next to that Imagination — then Psyche 
or Uranore^ the universal spirit — then 
Mon, and last Ahad or Alove, 

The sun with his rays, and with 
shadow or fuliginous darkness, is the 
liivourite illustration of the Platonists, 
when they would represent the uni- 
verse regarded as including the maker 
of the universe — and the evil of their 
system seems to be that it resolves 
itself into something not altogether 
unlike the pantheism of Spinoza — a 
system that with unimaginative minds 
is almost atheism, and with better 
men ends in dreamy mysticism. 

To the poet, however, we must 
allow his allegory — to the philosopher 
his dream. If the figures which he 
paints be but abstractions — if person- 
ality be with ditfieulty ascribed to 
them — we oannot refuse to look at the 



coloured shadows as they are made io 
pass by us. To express the Infinite 
by words borrowed from Time and 
space, may be impos^!ible ; to suggest 
devotional thought by analogies, how- 
ever remote, is another task, and one 
in which More is not unsuccessful. 
After describing the eight orders in- 
cluded in the notion of the All-con- 
taining One, he proceeds to state that 
particular lives flow like rays from this 
the fountain of universal life. 

The land of Souls is next described. 
The abode of the body is this earth, 
but the habitation of the soul is ** her 
own energy, which is exceeding vast, 
at least in some." Every man, our 
philosopher teaches, has a proper 
world, or particular horizon, enlarged 
or contracted according to the capacity 
of his mind. In our allegory, Psychania 
is the name by which the land of souls 
is called. The sun exceeds Saturn in 
magnitude — Saturn exceeds the earth 
— the earth exceeds the mooni The 
•* fixed rounds" are still larger. 

But Psychanie those fixed rounds exceeds 
As far as those fixed rounds excel small mustard 
seeds." 

Psychania is divided into two king- 
doms. The one Theoprepia, which 
typifies a condition of the soul, in 
which self-will and self-love arc dead, 
and in which we become one with 
God. In this kingdom Michael, *'the 
image of God, the true man, the lord 
from heaven," rules supreme. This is 
He, of whom the soul, will say, \ihcn 



lOB 



Esmtfs on tJie EnglUh Poets. — No, IL 



[Jan, 



he eometb to abide in her, and whrn 
he is known of her " who is like unto 
God for either beauty or power ? i^ho 
so comely and strnnir as he.* The 
second kincrdom is Ayt^sthesia, or the 
land of selfishness, whicli is a^iiin s-iih- 
divided into two provinces — the one 
Adnmuh or Bnrah, wliieh ty pities the 
corrupt natiirsil life, the ohJ Adnm, or 
Beirah "the brute/' becjiujie the old 
Adam is still in the bestinl state, 
actually, perhaps, and certainly so in 
eonijjiirison with the true rnan» whose 
form, and shtipe, and lif*^ — we liere 
translate the words of Plotinus — ia wis- 
dom and righteousness- Tlie low life 
in the body is ieotime^oT rather exhibits 
a mixture of the nature of every kind 
of brute. The other part of Autces- 
thfsia is Dtzoifi. The condition of 
its inhabitants is moni^rel, between man 
and beast. The soul in this rcirlori is 
ilmgglin^ between light and darkness. 
**Jiicoh and Ksanr says our poet, 
**alruy:gle in them.*' The uame of the 
province expresses this double or di- 
vided life. JJemoti (the word in its 



first tneaninff expresses any oatticular 
life as apart from the universal life, any 
divided spirit, or rather the nowcr 
nilinpf in these — frhm W«* divide) ia 
the kingofthis land — liis wife is Duessa, 
IB **the natnral life of ihe body or the 
natnral sapirit." Tlirofijgrb her inflnr'nce 
we anr" subjected to mvi:*ieal delui^ionsi. 
The world, ?ays Fiotinus, is ihe first 
mtigieian and cnchunter i alt others are 
imitators, Mas^ic, *»ays mtr poet, has 
no power over Isra*d. They are estah- 
lislied in a prinrlple above the worid. 
In that strenifth they are beyond the 
danger ot all enehatitments. •* Neither 
astral spirit imr aitij;el can prevail 
flg^in^t <ine ray of ihe Deity/ From 
thi* no donbt, and from the feeling that 
to the pnre all things are pnre, arote 
the bi'LttUiftil bncy Su frequfnt in the 
old romiiiL^t^s, that true love eon Id not 
be deceived by any magic delusions. — 
The poet proceeds to give an ac- 
couut of a visit to Bt-iron land and 
Dkom, by Mn old Inend AInentfmt 
wboTU, we mu^t allow him to intruduee 
to the reader — 



*' Old Mnemons head anrl heard wns hoary whiter 
But y€ft a < 'ill" ar full conn ten ancts he hnd : 
His vigorous eytfs did shiue like Htarri's bri^hti 
And in ^ood decent h-e<*z he wn!!i yclad, 
As hlith and buxom as was tiny lad 
Of one and and twtsnty clotb'd in lorresl grt-en ; 
Both bbth he was» atid eke of counnctl sad : 
Like winter-morn bedi^rht with snow and rine 

And sunny rriyps, »o did bis goodly eldsliip shine/* 



In ** Paittaehu?itt land/or the country 
of parrots, Mnemon travels in com- 
pany with some hall dozen chatterers. 
The natives of the conntry are proud 
of their birth. They are in shape men, 
but date their origin from the fifth day 
of the creation, before the time Adam 
was born, Thny aredisputative on all 
points, chiefly on religion. Thpir word a 
are not without meanings but the TUPuin* 
ing of their words is not understood by 
the speakers — they are logiciani skil- 



ful in the mysteriea of mode and figure, 
but their art is to prolong di^^patt^ not 
to -aseertuin any thing. Tijey are 
zealots for established forms of reli- 
gion — but they are represented ha 
withour the po«sihilrly of everattwiniog 
any. Mnemon's arcount of his tirsi 
meeting the li^arn<*d arid ajred Don 
Pxittnajj is, we thiTik. exceedingly 
amusing, and shews that uith a happier 
subject. More njiirht have attained a 
hi^h name among our poets — 



<< HiscoDcate note, great Ii«ad» and grave avpecti 
AffWcted tone, words without inward sense, 
My inly tirklcd spriitcht made m« detect 
By oatward laughter ; tut by b«»t prutence 
1 purg'd my self, and gave du« reverence. 
Then he gun gravely treat of codicils, 
And of book-readings paaaiag excellence. 
And iri'd his wit in prajsiiig gooses quiUa : 

O happy age t quoth he, the world Minerva fills. 

** I gave the talk to him, which pleasM him well: 
For then he seem'd a learned clerk to be«a« 
W heo none contrary'd hie uncontrolled fpell. 



18^7.] Hen^y Mwe. 109 

« As we yocie softly on* a yonster gent 

With bever cock't, end arm set on one side 

( His youtfafull fire quickly our pace out-went) 

Pull fiercely pricked on in madcap pride. 

The mettle of his horses heels he tri'd. 

He hasted to hit countrey Pithecuse. 

Most haste, worst speed : still on our way wa ride, 

And him o*retake halting through haplesse bruise; 
We help him up again, our help he nould refuse. 

** Then gan the leam'd aud ag*d Don Psittaco, 

When he another auditor had got, 

To spruse his plumes, and wisdome sage to show, 

And with his sacred lore to wash the spot 

Of youthfull blembhes; but frequent jot 

Of his hard setting jade did so confound 

The words that he by paper-stealtb had got. 

That their lost sense the yongster could not sound. 
Though he with mimicall attention did abound. 



•« When Psittaco look*d up to holy place, 

Pithecus straight with sanctimonious grace 

Cast up his eyes ; and when the shape divine, 

Which Adam had from God, he ean to praise, 

Pithecus (iniWB himself straight nrom that line. 
And phun»ie;i his sweet face with heavenly hiew to shine. 

<* He pincht his hat, and from his horse's side 

Stretcht forth Wio russet legs, himself inclin*d 

Now here, now there, and most exactly eyed 

His comely lineaments, that he might find 

What ever beauty else he had not mind 

As yet in his fair corse. But that fuU right 

And vast prerogative did so vnbind 

His straighted sprights, that with tyrannick might 
He forc'd his feeble beast, and straight fled out of sight.** . 

When Mnemon and Ptissaco are lefl A congregation of dissenters which 

to themsieives, the conversation turns they fall in with, is amusingly fancied, 

on such points as may impress the tra- and Psittaco's assertion of church au- 

▼eller with the highest opinion of thority — his conviction, too, that the 

Prittaco*s learning. The derivation of preacher is a rogue, with purposes of 

the name of the country, and how he bis own, and not altogether a gull or 

would prefer calling it Aiithropion to a parrot like his disciples-. 
Beiron, ocrupies thtm for a while. In 
this conversation, Mnemon seems to 
bave the best of it. 

«< And here I think we both as dumb had been 

As were the slow-foot beasts on which we rode 

Had not Don Psittaco by fortune seen 

A place which well he knew though disallow'd ; 

Which he to me with earnest countenance show*d 

Histing me nearer ; nearer both we go 

And closely under the thick hedges crowd. 

Which were not yet so thick but they did show 
Through their false sprays all the whole place and persons too. 

*• It was to weet, a trimly decked close 

Whose grassie pavement wrought with even line 

Ran from the morn upon the evening-dose. 

The eastern end by certain-steps they climbs 

To do their holy thinp (O sight divine !) 

There on the middle of the highest flore 

A large green turf squar'd out, all fresh and fine . 

Not much unlike to altars us*d of yore 
Right fiurly was adorn*d with every glittering flower, 



1 10 Essays on the Engfixh Poets, — No, IL 

*< At either end of this well-raised sod 
A stately stalk shot up of torchwood high 
Whose yellow flames small light did cast abroad 
But yet a pleasant show they yield the eye. 
A pretty space from this we did descry. 
An hollow oak, whose na^ell the rouph saw 
Long since had clove : so standing wet and dry 
Around the stumped top soft mosse did grow 

Whose velvet hue and verdure cushion-like did show. 

« Within the higher hedge of thickn'd trees 
A lower rank on either side we saw 
Of lesser shrubs even-set with artifice. 
There the wood-querristers sat on a row. 
And sweetly sung while Boreas did blow 
Above their heads, with various whistling. 
As his blasts hap to break, (now high, now low,) 
Against the branches of the waving pines 

And other neighbour plants, still rocking with the winds. 

*<But above these birds of more sightly plume 
With gold and purple feathers gayly dight 
Are rank'd aloft. But th' eagle doth assume 
The highest sprig. For his it is by right. 
• Therefore in seemly sort he there is pight 
Sitting aloft in his ?reen cabinet. 
From whence he all beholds with awfull sight, 
Who ever in that solemne place were met. 
At the west end for better view, right stately set. 

" After a song loud chanted by that quire, 
Tun'd to the whistlin&r of the hollow winde, 
Comes out a gay pye in his rich attire, 
The snowie white with the black satin sliin'd, 
On's head a silken cap he wore unlin'd. 
When he had hopped to the middle flore 
His bowing head right lowly he inclin'd. 
As if some deity he did adore. 

And seemly gestures make, courting the heavenly powV. 

" Thus cring*d he toward th' east with shivering wings. 
With eyes on the square sod devoutly bent. 
Then with short 6ight up to the oak he springs, 
Where he thrice conuied after his ascent. 
With posture chang'd from th* east to th' Occident, 
Thrice bowed he down, and easily thriccT he rose ; 
Bow'd down so low as if't had been's intent 
On the green mosse to wipe his swarthy nose. 

Anon he chatters loud, but why himself best knows. 

^ There we him leave, impatient of stay. 
My self amaz'd such actions to see. 
And pretty gestures 'mongst those creatures gay : 
So unexpected uniformitie. 
And »uch a semblance of due piety ; - 
For every crow, as when he cries for rain. 
Did eastward nod ; and every daw we see 
When they first entered this grassie plain 

With shaking wings and bended bills ador'd the same. 

" O that the spirit of Pythhgoras 

Would now invade my breast, dear Psittaco ! 

Said I. In nature he so cunning was 

As both the mind of birds and beasts to know, 

What meant their voyces, and their gestures too. 

So might we riddle out some mystery 

Which lieth hid in this strange uncouth show ; 

But thy grave self may be as wise as he 

I wote. Aread then Psittaco what sights these be. 



.1837.] Henry More. Ill 

*< Certes, said he, thine eyes be waxen dim. 

These be the people of wide Adamah ; 

These be no birds. *Tis true, they're sons of sin, 

^nd vessels of Heaven*s ire : for, sooth to say. 

They have no faith, — I fear nor ever may; 

But be shap'd out for everlasting shame, 

Though they deride us of Psittacusa ; 

Yet well I wot we have the onely name 
Above, and though all foul yet there devoyd of blame. 

" And thai green spot which thou roaist deem a close. 

It is to them no close, but holy place, 

Ycleep*d a church, whose sight doth well dispose 

Approaching souls. The rest thy self maist trace 

By true analogy. But PlI not passe 

One thing remarkable, said he to me : 

It was Don Pico took the preaching place — 

A man of mighty power in his own see : 
A roan, no bird, as he did fondly seem to thee. 

« Mn. Tell then Don Psittaco, what Pico ment 

By his three bowings to the setting sun. 

And single obesance toward th* orient. 

What ! were they postures of religion ? 

If so, why had those yellow flames but one ? 

The eagle three ? — That th' eagle was his God 

It is, said he, a strong presumption ; 

Whom he first slightly in that holy sod 
After ador'd more fully with a triple nod. 

« O had we once the power in our hands. 

How carefully the youth wee*d catechise. 

But bind God's enemies in iron bands, — 

(Such honour have his saints,) — and would devise 

Set forms of truth, on discipline advise, 

That unto 'joth all men might needs conform. 
Mn. But what if any tender heart denies ? 
Ps. If he will his own fortunes overturn 
• It cannot well be holp, we must he uniform,** 

While the discussion on church au- by two acquaintances of Psittaco. — 

thority, with the expediency or neces- We greatly overrate the merit of the 

sity of coercing conscience is insisted passage or it will amuse our readers 

on by Psittaco^ the party is encreased like some of the portraits in Chaucer : 

*« The one on a lean fiery jade did sit. 

And seem'd a wiirht of a right subtle brain. 

Both cloth'd as black as jet. But he was fit 

With a dry wall-nut shell to fence his wit. 

Which like a quilted cap on's head he wore, 

Lin'd with white taffity, wherein were writ, 

More trimly than the Iliads of yore. 
The laws of mood and figure, and many precepts more. 

** All the nice questions of the school-men old. 

And subtilties as thin as cobwebs bet. 

Which he wore thinner in his thoughts yrold. 

And his warm brains, they say, were closer set 

With sharp distinctions than n cushionet 

With pins and needles ; which he can shoot out 

Like angry porcupine, where e're they hit. 

Certes, a doughty clerk and champion stout 
He feem'd, and well appointed against every doubt. 

« The other rod on a fat resty jade 

That neighed loud. His rider was not lean. 
His black, plump belly fairly outward swai'd, 
And pressed somewhat hard on th' horse's mane. 



112 Eisatfs on the EngUsk Poets.^No. II. [ Jai. 

Most like, methought, to a oathedrall dean. 
A man of prudence and groat courterie, 
And wisely in the world he knew to glean. 
His sweaty neck did shine right greasily, 
Top heavy was his head with earthly policy. 

** This wight Corvino, Psittacus me told 

Was named, and the other Graculo. 

They both of his acquaintance were of old. 

Though so near friendship now they did not owe, 

But yet in generalls agreed, I trow. 

For they all dearly hug dominion, 

And love to hold men's consciences in awe ; 

Each standing stiff for his opinion 
In holy things, against all contradiction. 

<* But most of all Corvin and Psittaco, 

Prudentiall men, and of a mighty reach. 

Who through their wisdome sage th* events foreknow 

Of future things ; and confidently preach 

Unlesse there he a form which men must teach. 

Of sound opinions, (each meaning his own,) 

But 't be left free to doubt and countrey-speech, 

Authority is lost, our trade is gone. 
Our Tyrian wares forsaken, we, alas! shall mone. 

" Or at the best our life will bitter be : 

For we must toil to make our doctrine good ; 

Which will em pair the flesh and weak the knee. 

Our mind cannot attend our trencher-food. 

Nor be let loose to sue the worldly good. 

All's our dear wives, poore wenches ! they alone 

Must ly long part of night, when we, withstood 

By scrupulous wits, must watch to night's high noon. 



« Heaps of such inconveniences arise 

From conscience -freedome. Christian liberty. 

Beside, our office all men will despise 

Unlesse our lives gain us authority. 

Which, in good sooth, a harder task will be. 

Dear brethren 1 sacred souls of Behiron ! 

Help, help, as you desire to liven free 

To ease, to wealth, to honour and renown. 
And sway th' affrighted world with your disguized fr*wn.** 

There is no object in our continuing tic feeling, it is not easy to distinguish 

a dialogue, which, of course, leaves from blind enthusiasm, and Psittaco in 

each of the speakers of his own opi- real or affected rapture speaks of his 

nion. Their companions pass on, and daughter Glaucis, The reader of the 

Mnemon and Psittaco continue their allegory who remembers his Greek, 

ride and the discussion. Mnemon ^^nll not be surprised at th« name — for 

says something of an inward light its the character of the dull enthusiast is 

own evidence to the soul. This mys- not ill typified by the owl. 

" Here Psittaco, 
Though what I said did not well satisfie 
His grave judicious self, yet he did know 
Of whom this talk much 'plause would gain and kindnessa too, 

« And straight 'gan say. Dear Glaucis ! hadst thou been 
At this discourse, how would thy joyous spright 
Have danc'd along. For thou art or well seen 
In these queint points, or dost at least delight 
Exceeding much to hear them open'd right. 



l«37.] 



Herny More* 



U3 



And* well I wot, on earth scarce can be fouud 
i3o witty girh eo wily femalL* wight 
As tbis^y Gbiudi«» ovttr u\\ renowu'd ; 
1 meskn l<jr i^uitker parts, if not for jiygitit^nt »oiiiul. 

*' How fit ai^ aytiitoiir would sbo tlien prov'd 
To thee, younp Miiemoti? huw Lad alie admirtidi 
Thy sifting^ wit, tby speecb atid person lov'd, 
Clo7e to tbat mouth witb meltiog zetd nil Bred, 
And huiig upon those lips s^j highly inspired ? 

For your con«pirJn? minda eicBrtlf iigr«*ie 
In pinnLs which thu wide world lliraugh wmtli und tepn 
Kudely dividis I mtan fn3« liberty. 
Be't sOi said I, jeL inay our ^otiudti fiirre dilTerciit br. 

*' Ftfr miijht I but repent without offence 
Whnt I biivo hLSird, ill <*ym tomes niun <Je*rry 
In this thy GhttiL:i»t though lUn nimble wendi 
So d45Xt«roiialy cnii pniy and prophecy, 
And lectured reod of dread mortality, 
C lappings her palm& with fatiiU iioi*e and ^hreeks, 
loiulaitiokT approach in p mi^sHt-ry 
To t^d afflicted hoase«, when she slxikcft 

With brushing strokes the glu^^ie doors and entraure Aeek-*, 

** Nor doth her tolemnc lookis much like her »ire» 
Or native zeal, which she did once derive 
From th<.'t\ ii^rave PaittaixH tixidt ber higher 
Thiiu earth JUid nature. For men do cooceii'e 
Bliick eatiffuine fumes ray i<^pr>ti$e do tlius dtu:eive ; 
Translatinir her into fools paradiset 
And &Q of Aensii and reac^oa her bereave." 



Beirott land, he begmii hUii!«i*irtf> udl 
of her wild follies— 



Wlien Psittaco sees thure h no 
diance of thus providing for his daugh- 
ter or inducing Mnemon to settle in 

** So with full hitter words he did cha^ti^e 

His absent child; but whether «eal it be. 
Or deep conceived halredj I no're Mell descry. 

•*Nor stopt he here, but told me all her guis« — 
How law-le^se qnitp and out of shape sbe's grrowii^ 
Affectini^ ■till wild* con tmrle ties, 
Avcrfto from what for good all others own. 
Preposterous girl! how often liast thou thrown 
Thy self into dark corners at mid-ilay^ 
And then nt dead of night away art ilown 
To some old barn, thereon to perch and |n^y, 

Ending thy dark devotions just at Ijreak of dtiy. 

»* When others sleep or weep, then doet thou sing 
In frosty niifht, on neighboyr's chininey set, 
Wlien others fast 'ginst thou thy revelling; 
Thy lustfull sparrows greedily dost eal," 



They jouTncy on till they come to 
n pi are where three roads meet. The 
middle fond led out of B>erron^ — that to 
the Ti^j-ht was the way to Leontopolis ; 
tnd third to Onopolis^the land of 
Asses whither Don Psittaco was 
bound. In firm alliance with tlies^e 
two towns, were united the tity of the 
Foxe*, and that of the Pismires. The 
one ej[|>re*»iiig the subtlety of live law, 
the other the principle of Utilitarian ex- 
Vou IX, 



pediency — for in Of-iron no hig^her 
prineiple actuate** any ofitft inhahitant*. 
We, who do not venture to divi-ii^B 
the politics of More, eannut conceal 
the fact that Don Fsittaeo, I he intole- 
rant advocate for a tyrannicfri coiitroul 
over conscience, belongs to the city *if 
the Asses — or Democrafft. Leonlo- 
poliSp or a Monarchy of Force, is not 
in the philosopher's opinion a much 
better condition. 

I 



1 HI Eimys on the Engliih Poe *sl—No, IL 

*' No truth of jaAtice in Beim lond. 

No »5iiri»re fnitli void of slie subtiliy , 

That oKvHV* »iM^k8 it *<!lf» i» to be ft and ; 

But luw flt^luiioij nod; false polity, 

Fh,1*<* polity that into tyrennie 

Would (|uic."kly wend^ did not steru fHiir refltmiti 

^nd kt't'p in a\v'. Th' Otiites deniocrncy 

Is nuuirlit hyt a larsr© huoffry tyrant-tmin ; 
0|)pres5ion from the poore \a an nll-fiwei'ping rain, 

" A sweeping torrenl that heat« down the eomi 

And vmAien the oxtsn% |jil>otir, head-loog ihrowi 

The tHnt»at tr^es up hy the root ytorn, 

It^ niii^^jng^ ftirci! m all the land tl shows ; 

WoodK, rent from hence* Jt» rowling mge bestowi 

In other place* thtit were barfi before ; 

With muddied arms of trees tl>e earth it etrow»; 

The Itit'iiiDg shepherd is atHQi^d sore, 
Wblle it with siwift desceol so hideoutily doth rore. 

** Sach 13 the out-ra§re of Democraciet 

When fear] esse it doth rule in B«iruh : 

And liltk* better i§ fnlse monarchy, 
Wheti it in this samo rvuutrey beskrs the sirVHy. 

There's no iinrirty in Beliiraht 

But hcasllikti pfnizing in one pusture ground. 

No love hut of ll»e enimaled clay 

With hiiatiea fading flowers trimly crowiied, 

Mnemoxt parts from Psittaco and pursues the middle nay alone^^^- 

When I came near ihe eod, Ihere was in view 
No pii*i»4ige : for thti wail wns very hitrh, 
But therti do doore to mi; it »Glf did ahi^w : 
Looking ah out at leng^th 1 did eapy 
A livtily yuuth,^* to whom I pre»eutly "gao cry. 

When I 'gan cnll* forthwith in seemly sort 
He mtr approached in decent mSMit cladt 
Aloru tit for luhour \\wu tht: flaunting i ourt. 
When he came near, iti clienrfull wide he Uid 
Teil whiit I would ; ihen I unto the lad 
*Gaii ihu^ reply ; ahii» ! loo long ti»tniy 
Here have I trampled foul Beh»ron» pad :f 
Out of l\m hind I thoii|jrlit thte the next way. 
But I no g^tite can Find» bo vhiu i« mine assay. 

Then the wise youth, good Sir, you look too high ; 
Tiie wall idoft is raised ; but that same doora 
Where you muDi paj»e in deep descent doth lie: 
Bui he had follow* he would g-o before* 
l^lurd by there was a filace, aII co%'ered o>e 
With stinging neUles and such weedery. 
The prickin||( thistles the hard'«t legs would gore* 
Under the wall a btruight doore we descry ; 
The wall bight »eU- conceit ; ibe doore buniility* 

When w* came at the doore fast lockt it was. 
And Simoa had ilicf keyi but he would grant J 

Thiit 1 into that otker laad should pHAse, 
Without I made him my Concomitfint. 
Jt pkeaitsd m* welh I niuti«d not much npon*t. 
But straight mcord : lor why ? a jolly s^wnin 
Me thought he wiis ; meek, chearfulli and pleaiiant. 
When be aaw this, he thus to me again. 
Sir, see you Uiiit sad couple ? Theu I i 1 see those twain. 



• Simon, 



f Patk 



isar.j 



Bem'^ More. 



115 



A lorry couple certainly they be* 
The man a bloudy kmte LioUln Hi his heart 
With chearlessG countenance ; as sod ia ehe. 
Or eld, or else intolerable smart. 
Which the can not decline by any art, 
Doth thus distort and writh her wrinkled face t 
A leaden Quadrate iwayei harii oo that part 
That's Ht for burdens ; (tjulnesse doth deface 
Her B^ed looks ; with a itmit staff her steps sht^ siayes. 

The parents of Simon^ who tvpifies accompanied by Simon, our pilgrim 

Obedience, are Autopurnes ant! Hy- leaves Beiron land, and pasBCfl into 

pomene^ in English words SeltUleoial Dixoiii* The third canto open* not 

and Patience, Guided by these, and unpleasjngly — 

" But now new stories I 'giti to relate, 

Which aged Mnemon unto ua did tell. 

Whiles we on ^nusie bed did lie prostrate 

Under a ihady benchi which did ri'pell 

The fiery scorching shafts which Uriel 

From wjutliern quarter darted with strong hand, 

No other help we had ; for Gabriel 

Hi* wholesome coolin|jf blasts then quite restrained. 
The lions flaming breath with heat parch 'd all the land^ 



^The sage proceeda to describe the 
of mind when the soul Is first 
ketied to a tense of higher power 
than that which rules the mere brute 
animal man, when the conscience is 
fint affected by tljc terrors of the law. 
The tiaflBage is, we think nobly con- 
cttved. Nothing can be finer than the 



flight of the sun of righteousness seen 
through the clouds of Dizoii* from Ida, 
or the mountain of vision. The way in 
which it is distorted and becomes an 
image of wrath to the mind unpre- 
pared to behold it is scarcely ecjualled 
by any passage in any poet. 



** f lere seemly sitting down, thus gan that sage, 

Last time we wore together hero ymet, 

Beirah wall, thiit was the utmost stage 

Of our discourse, if I do not forget. 

When we departed thence the sun was iet» 

Yet nathelesse we past that lofty wall 

That very evening. The night's nimble net 

That doth encompusse every opdike bull, 
That swims in liquid aire, did Simon nought appalL 

•• When we that stately wall had undercrept. 
We straightway found ourselves in Dizoie j 
The melting clouds chill drizzeling tears then weep ; 
The mistie aire ewet for deep agooy, 
Swet a cold sweat, and loose frigiditie 
Fill'd all with a white smoke ; pale Cynthia 
Uid foul her silver limbs with filthy die, 
Whiles wading on she measured out her way, 

And cut the muddy heavens detil'd with whitish clay. 

** No light to guide hut the moon's pallid ray, 
And that even lost in mistie troubled aire : 
No tract to take^ there was no beaten way ; 
No chearing strength, hut that which might appeRr 
From Dian's face ; her face then shin'd not clear. 
And when tt shine th clearest, little might 
She yield eth, yet the goddess* is severe. 
Hence wmthfull dogs do bark at her dead light : 

Chmt help the man thus clos'd and prison'd in dread night 



I M Essai^s mi the HngiUh Poeis. — No^ JL 

'* 0*re whelmed with irksome toyl of strange annoyei 
la atOQj Etodnd like aensftlesse stake I stood i 
TIU ihe Ta!»t tbttmpv of maosie ham men doibc, 
That on the groning ste«l hud on surb lode» 
Empierc'd mine ears m tliat sad stupid mood. 
1 wti^iiiQg tben «ome harbour to be nigh, 
In sory pace tkitben^Hrd slowly yode, 
B|i ear directed more then by mine eye* 

But here, alas ! t foun^l small bospitality. 

«« Foure grisly blafk*«mith9 stoutly did their task 
Opon BQ ijcnvile form'd in conick wise. 
They neither minded who, nor wbnt I ask. 
But U'ith stern ji^imy louk do sttll avi^e 
Upon thi^ir workis : btit 1 my tir^t emprise 
Would not for»ake, and lb ere fore venture in. 
Or none hath list to speuk, or none e^piesi. 
Or hear* ; the heavy bam mens never lin ; 

And hot B blue faint lig^ht in this bhick shop did ihiae. 

♦• There 1 into a diirksome corner creep, 
And lay my weary limb* on dusty floor, 
Expectinir still when soft down'sjiding fleep 
Should seize mme eye*, and strength to me reitore : 
But when with hovering wiu|tfs she ^^ttmchW, eVemore 
The mighty souses those foul knave* laid on»* 
And those buge bellows that aloud did rore» 
Cbnc'd her away that she was ever gone. 

Before she came, on pitchy plumes, for fear yflone, 

(' The fint of thc4e rude rascals Lyponf hight, 
A foul great stooping slouch with be a vie eyes, 
And hanging lip : the second ugly sight 
Pale Phobon»| witb his hedghog-hairs disguise. 
Aelpon-j b the third » lie the false skies 
No longer Iryiti. The fourth of furious fuBhion 
Phrenition[| hight, fratight with impatiencies, 
The bellows be yeleep'd deep snspiratiou : 

Each knave the^ bellows Mow in mtitunll circulation . 

♦» There is a niim^ber of these lonesome forges 
In Bacha^ vale (this was in Bacha vale,) 
There be no innes but the»ei and these but scoufges ; 
Instead of ease they work much deadly dale 
To those that in this lowly trench do trale 
Their feeble loins. Ah me ! who here would fare? 
Sad ghosts oft €'ros*e the way with visage pale. 
Sharp thorns and thistles woxind iheir feeten bare : 

Yet happy is the man thnt here doth boar a share, 

»• When I in this sad vale oo little time 
Had measured, and oft had taken Inne, 
And by long penance paid for mine ill cnma 
Metbought the sunne itself began to sbinet 
And that I'd past Diiuia'^^ discipline. 
But day wa* not yet come, 'twas perfect night'-. 
1 PhcEibna head from Ida hill had seen ; 
F^or Ida bill doth give to raen tlie sight, 

Of Fhcobus form, before Aurora's silver light, 

'* But Ph rebus form from that high hi 11% not clear 
Nor Bguire perfect. It's inveloped 
In purple cloudy veil ; and if 't appear 
In rounder shape with skouling *!rery bead 
A glowing face it shows, ne raves doth shed 



-£Ji! 



• This powurful fiction will remind many renders of CarletonV Pilgrimage to 
Louph Dearg, 

f Sorrow. } Fear. § Despair. j| Fr^nxy. ^ The valley of lean. 



ffenty Mt^re. 117 

Of Hght'« fM?reiiity, jet duller eyos 
Wjth fazin^r on this irefull aii^bt b« fed 
Best to their pleusing ; small tliirag* tLey will prise, 
That never b^tLer saw, nor b«iier ean deviie.** 

On I he tf>p of Ida hill, U a strong whose names might have eicited the 
fwrire**, with a number of inhabitants, envy of a Cromwellite regiment, 

" Thiit rahble rout thut in thtn castle won. 

Id I refulU ignorance, nnBc^mlv-zealf 

Stronif »elf-ctniceitt rotten-ieliBrioQ, 

Con te Q tiou t-rfiprt«ch* "gai n st- Mic hael - 

I f- h eu of ^ Moves'- hod f- oug h t*rc^ veal- 

WhicU-thcir-diilUskonses-cannot^eas'ly-rcarh, 

LovB-of-thfj-cnrkii9» an inept app^al- 

T* uncertain- papyrs, a-faJ«e-foriiialUf«*lch- 
f- feigned-aighB, con te m p t-o f- poore-a n d-sin f ul 1- wre teh . 

" A <Jeep self-love, want of true aympathy- 

With all mnakiud, th' tidmiriag their own herd^ 

Fond pride a nmctimoTiious cruelty 

*Gainst those by whom their wratlifull minds be ilJrd 

By fttrangling reason, nnd are so afeard 

To lojMj their credit with the vulgar sort ; 

Opinion and long speecli Yore life |n*ef erred, 

Lesse reverence oJ God then of tli« court. 
Fear, aud despair, evil surmifto*, false report. 

" Oppression-of-tbe-poore, felt-TighteousDeiie, 

Con teropt-of- Government, fierceness, fleahly.lmt, 

The-measuring-of-Hli-trae-righteoiisness 

By- the i r-o wn^m odell , cl ea vi ng-n n to-d list, 

Kaih-censure, and despising-of-the-jaBt- 

Tlml-are-not-of-their-Bect, False-reason in g- 

C oncer niDg^Oinh vain-hope, needle«se*mi9trtii«t| 

Strutting-in-knowledf e, egre slavering- 
After hid-skill, with every inward uncouth thitig. 

'* No such inchitntment in all Dkote 

As on this bill ; nor sadder sight was seen 

Then you may in this rufuli place espy, 

'Twixt two huge walla on solitary green, 

Of ftfnerall cypresac many grovea there I 

And eke of ewe, ehco, and poppy trees : 

And in their gloofny shade foul grialy fiend 

Use to resort, and busily to seize 
The darker phansied souls that live in ill disease. 

** Hence you may see, if that you dare to mind, 

Upon the side of this accursed hill, 

Many a dreadfuU cor^e ytost in wind, 

Which with hard halter their loath*d life did spill 

There lies another which himself did kill 

With rusty knife, all roll'd in his own blood, 

And ever and anon a dolefull kni'll 

Cannes from the fatall owL that in sad mood 
With drery sound doth pierce through tbe death-shadow 'd wood. 

Who can expresse with pen the irksome ntate 

Of Ihcee that be in this strong castle thrall ? 

Yet hard It i» this fort to ruinate, 

[t is so strongly fenc'd with double wall, 

Tbe fiercest but of ram no'te miikc them fall -. 



IW Tke Past Yem% Popenf, wad the Peerage, 

The irst Inevitable Destinj 
Of God's decree ; ilie otber tbey do call 
Invincible Heshie In^rmitie ; 
But keeper of the tower'i Unfelt Hypocriaie. 

»' Aye me ! who shall Ihis fort so strongly fenced win f 

** I hoar the cl Jittering of an armed troup* 
My ears do ring with the strong' prancers' heal*. 
(iMy soul get up out of thy drowaie droo|>» 
And look unto the everlaeting Uilli) 
The hollow ground, ah ! how my aense it filli 
With sound of solid bon^a hoofs. A wonder 
It is, to think how cold my Bpirit thrills, 
With straoge amaze. Who can this strength disaunder ? 

Hitrk how the warlike steeds do neigh, their oecki do thunder* 

** All mi Ik white steeds id trapping b goodly gaj, 
On whitrh in golden letters be ywxit 
These worilt (even he that runs it roaden may) 
True righteousness unto the Lord of might* 
O comely spectncle I O glorious sight I 
'Twould easily nivjsh the beholdijr's eye 
To see such beasta, so fuir, to full of sprigbt^ 
All in due ranks, to prance so gallantly, 

Bearing their hdera arm'd with perfect panoply, 

** In perfect silver gli string panoply 
They ride, the army of the highest God. 
Ten thousands of his saints approachen nie. 
To judge the world* and rule it with \m rod. 
They leave all plain wheieever they have trod. 
Each rider on his shield doth bear the Sun 
With golden shining beams dispread abro$id, 
The San of Righteotisnesi at high day noon, 

By thift same strength, I ween, this fort is easily wonne. 



Mneraon then describes the coun- 
try of the Apterites — a sluggieh 
pcople^ — overcome l>y the encnant' 
mcnts or the land in which they live. 
He pEtsBcs through other provinces 
which we cannot delay to describe — 
amoikg temptations winch have little 
[ cftect^on him. However, the philoso- 
iplier has otiier dangers to surmount. 
I Thfy ascend a hill on which they m«?et 
^ three nymphs, which typify the philo- 
sopliies of Pyt h^goras, of Plato, and of 
the Stoics. Mnemoti leaves them re- 
luctantly. 



Tlie narrative ha-^tcns to its clo»«, 
A black wull rises up before the tra- 
vellers. 

As they pass this boundary vale, the 
aged parents of Simnn die. 

Self-denial and Patience are virtues 
but of this life, and out travellers 
Mnemon and his companion are paii- 
ing into the better Unu. 

Thus tcf mi nates the poem of Psjr- 
chozoia — and with the close of this, 
the first division of the Song^ of the 
Soul, must we, for the present, take 
leave of our readers. 

A. 



THE FAST VEAR — ^POPERl. — AND THE PEEBAUE. 



iwzs a state has Burvived the perils 
"of infancy or foreisrn inva&ion, and ar- 
rived at the maturity of its Ftrength, 
the wisdotn of tlie chief magistrate is 
not RKire cxprcbed in dircctinjf than 
his tirimiess iu controlling — i^jncc the 
very elements that have contributed lu 



its rise become thenceforward, if tin- 
resisted » the sources of its dtssohtion. 
The discontented restlessness, the iii- 
S4*tiable longing* of an ambit km, exalted 
or ilcpravcd accarding to the character 
of iis object, will «lill be overflowing 
its niArruw ch;in]jcl, tf not t(j fertilize 



18370 



TJie Past Yeavy Popeftft (tfid the Peerage. 



119 



nod blesfi, to destroy and curse. 
Throufjh the advi^titurotis energy of 
this (Ktticiple It is tliat nations have 
been raist'd to fume and dominion ; 
but the same agency » when it ecmlrj no 
longer expand, has, by its uncheqnered 
violence, shattered the fabric it roarcfl, 
and left, but a ruin to attest its ptnvor. 
From a 9pr'mg the arts of Greece, the 
arnu of Rome, ihe sway of Britain; 
but also the factions of Athens, the 
civil vrars of Rome, the bloudy rei^u 
of the Directory ; — wliile the true 
caloric, that animates within tlie nn- 
tional bosoui the st*^eping germs of 
future glory, it also geueratcs tho$i* 
voted nic elements, whose mighty and 
unresisted heavhigs have crumbled 
empires to dust. In evtry state that 
groans not beneath a tyrant s yoke, iu 
operation it incessant, and when Jiot 
enlisted in the cause of patriotism, 
becocDe« an engine potent to destroy* 
if not itaelf destroyed. Promptitude 
in detectijig, and determination in re- 
listing the first workings of this evil 
leaven, display the statesman's power 
and genius. When zeal fur national 
freedom betrays the first sympton^s of 
the morbid change, as it gradually ad- 
vances to the fever of democratic am- 
bition — when, not the pain of experi- 
enced evUs^ but ihe eravtngs of antici- 
pated powcr» become the incentive to 
action — when, not the reason of the 
legislator, but the passions of the mul- 
titude are anj^ealed to — when popular 
triumph, aiMl not oatioiial weal is the 
motive that impel?^ — tht^n to hesitate is 
to fall. Tliis Ii^ the moment to shew 
ibe determined front to the spirit i»f 
change, and that restless pugtsion, 
which 



ParvmmHii primrt, mux {<>(•»« uttnlt-i in aurUv 
tngr«ditiirqije »nl«i, «^t mput irit«r nnbUii citudlt, 
vill,. when the atitieifiations on which 
it lives are blasted, of itself expire. But 
delay is dcath^i4i few moments can 
twell the ripple that murmurs to the 
itira^ that overwhelms. 

The vigilance of the magistrate in 
detecting and guarding ai^rainst this 
danger can never for a moment be re- 
laxed, since materials arc never want' 
ing wlierewith a sordid ambition can 
gratify its Inst. Even in tbe highest 



state of natiwml prosperity, the cry of 
want and iiopaiience will stilL be 
heard ; and though the philanthropist 
may lament, the philosopher will ad- 
mit the fact, that in the most perfect 
of our initkutions, as lire scale of 
soriety di^^cendfi, causes of complaint 
will nmltiplv. In tlut ^UiiitiH'^s of in- 
creasing numbers, and the proportittn- 
att* increase of paupemm — in the on- 
equal distribution of weuUh, and the 
consiequent limitation of <ivil privj- 
leges^^iu the advance of science and 
civilization^ by wiiose increasing li4fht 
const itiitiunn! ertiirs will ever be nb* 
served — und in other evils in^separuble 
from hutiiaD «ioi'iety— the fruitful seedn 
of ccKnmntiou will ever be iWud. And 
in addition I o thotieamagouirit influences 
which e.ier exist to tbreaieii and p^r* 
tnrb, there are other*, less Jrcquent in 
their occnrrencet but more peri loos tn 
their results. States, like individuidii, 
have their peculiar periods, when 
there is an increased degree of tus- 
ceptibility to irritaiion-^when the 
poison of di.^alfettion is more easily 
infused. Varied and numeriius are the 
causes which may originate this morbid 
state. The reactions of newly wakened 
energies after the thraldom of a moral 
despotisrc* — the works of some pep- 
verted ger^ius, which, dowiiw through 
the souls of jnen, sup the Icmndulions 
of truth and purityf^thc efforts of an 
ambitious hierarchy t{> extend their 
iron sway,); or tither causes utore in- 
scrutable, hut not less potent — may 
rouse a nation to violent and increas- 
ing fervour; but whatcvir be the 
source of excitement — whatever be 
the character it assumes, or tlie aspect 
it dbplays — whether fanatici>ui, super- 
stitinti, m infidelity — the channel it 
finally flaws in has ever been the same 
— hostility to existing government,, 
and organizalion to effect its over- 
throw*. Every age of civil dissension 
has witnessed tlic unholy alliance be- 
tween democratic passion and fanatic 
or infidel aeal — religion or scepticism 
being first the watch-w^>rd, but sui»n 
becoming the warrcry to revolt and 
revolution. The language of virtu*? 
may be prostituted to it^ service — tbt* 
mantle of patriotism may be worn, 
but It ceutnot long cooceal tlie dagger 



•Thi§ faoataciirm which brought Charles L to the scafold disfilayed itft«*lf earlv in 
EJiiabeth's reign, soon after the^Analfxtmcium of Popfrtf in Eai^lati*!. The riles' mid 
ocremfMiies of the E.*tJihliihHd Churcli rhietly «x;u»peraUtJ tl«nj.l— i/ifi»rc. 

f VoltMtre and tlit; French Revulutiou. 

J Thfl Iri»h Rcbelliun of 171>R 



120 



The Past Ymvy Popeiy^ and the Peemge, 



[Jail. 



that lurks beneath, nor prevent iHa 

character and designs oi' tlic wf*aret 

froni liuin;* Si>on levealef!; and liloml- 

bought experienec at List nttcstg, Uiat 

from siu'h polluted to un tains the 

I ttrt-ums of (reedorn cuti never How, nor 

f au^'ht btit the corrupL atn! corrttptiu;^ 

[license of oulilocratic UTiitm y* At such 

■ •periods us these, when po]Hd.ir exeite- 

[ nient U 9tun<: to i^tvniy Uy superstitious 

\zed) — when civil strife dips its diig^t-r 

[hi the venom oP relliiiouft liate — the 

deinocMi is tlmijj to ihe snviijee fjoni 

|llie filth whieh t?iive him birtli — his 

[.depravfd lust obtaining a l!ieaire on 

Iwliieliit may expatiate^ — and he sonii 

rcuaeis hh part. To c^xpand the 

Imejihitic vapours of factum, ami ripen 

I the m into d esjd li e r p et* I i lenec — 1 1> 

I foster ihe broodinf^ elements of revohi- 

rtion in the popnlar mind — to foment 

[the troables whieh are at once the 

( Bf>uree iind condition of his existenee — - 

becomes the irreat end ami ohjeet nf 

I every effort, and experience abundantly 

proves how sriccessfully the task may 

\ he accomplished. At such periods 

I' prompt resistance is more imperatively 

called for — deff*rf nee to the popular 

will becomes aciime — concession, then, 

instead t>t' allaj^in^, ponrs oil on the 

t kindling" embers of disaffection. !f 

vacillating weakness then characte- 

*rize the rnliog power, the nation*^ 

doom is sealed — hs at such a time the 

\ fenidi influence of a timid policy swells 

I'disronttmt to sedition, sedition to re- 

hellion, rebellion to revolution utid 

iron despotism — each siep in the fatal 

aeries bf-ing at once the otfspring' t>f 

thr \iit»u and the parent of the future. 

These reflections have been *»ng'gested 
\ty the contemplation of the occurrences 
I'nfthe p;ist year — a retrospect, cvt-ry 
g'lance <d' w hick curdles the blood with 
• indignation. One sentence may epito- 
mize the character of its policy — pass! ve 
imhecility in the ruler, unequallrd hnt 
hy the daring amhiiion of the suliject— 
tin unvaryinLT reileration of conces- 
I'flion*, mesisured only by the ins^atialde 
ln*t to which they ministered— a scene 
of inces^tant riviilry between the U'^ih- 
btur and the people, lo try vihctbcr 
the one could yield or the other en- 
crf>ach to the more fatal degree. And 
Pliehold the rc!>ult — never since the 
idays of Kmmet and Fitzgerald has our 
situLitiou been so preearious — ail the 
elements which then gloomingly mih- 
^li-d and gathered as a thunder-cioud 
lo Inirst upon us being now in motion, 
arid lowering more ]K*rlentonslv over 
»i». Ireland* all but under a foreign 



yoke, is at this njom(*rtt without any 
Icgtslttture but the will of a demagtjgiur, 
one of the slaves of a hostile power, de- 
pmniant ou that will for peace or re*oU, 
expecting each moment the boding still- 
ness of a tre:ichen)as tranqtnllity to Im 
broken by the drunken roar of an m- 
surg:ent popnlaee. A mindless crowd, 
hartnonixed by agejiey, [lotent as suhtte* 
cemented by inlernid rites iu a brothefw 
hood of sedition, have become the 
arbiters of a nations destines. Tlie 
mask of moderatiem which was assumed 
and retained until power was uocumii- 
latedt has been flnng away — the lan- 
guage of solicitation ahiindoned^ — ««k1 
while the mo^t daring demands are 
made, the means off enforcing them n¥c 
[lartuJed — physical force becoming tire 
final tribunal of appeal While yet 
neophttes in sedition, eidargement of 
privilege was the extent and limit of 
their desires ; but rash concession to 
their demands has at once stimulated the 
cravings of their last, and multipltcil 
tlie instruments of its gratiticatiofi. 
They have in their progress through 
the phases of incipient revolulioti (a 
8ucce8«iion, uniform as a law of nature,) 
discovered the diderence between pri- 
vilege and spoliation* and the former Is 
now valued only as suWrvieni to the 
latter* With power has experience 
been acquired, and the sphere of action 
enlarjred. The question is not now 
one of franchise, but p^roperty — nul of 
e(juality of rights, but encroachment on 
vested property — not of religious 
liberty, but of 'sacrilege and extirpa- 
tion— ertry new concession being 
made l)ie incentive to a fresh ami 
more daring- assault, ami paraded forth 
as the triumph of indigtmnt patriotism 
over a tyrannic and debilitated oli- 
garchy. 

And no marvel that such h the state 
of things. In the policy our rulers 
have adopted may be found a specimeo 
of inisgovemment, wholly without ex- 
atnple, destructive in its influence 6u 
the present, and opening out a future 
of strife and horror. If their object 
from the outset had been to scouq^ 
our countrymen to discord and coo- 
vulsion-^-to fill Ireland with the flumes 
of civil war — to extirpate every vestige 
of our church— and to sever the British 
empire — the ingenuity of infernal 
malice could not have succeeded 
better — while a lawless faction, drunk 
with the intoxication of fancied tri- 
umph, are clamourini^ for our destruc?- 
tion, thi'y regard their advance with 
[ia::isivc acquiescence ; or worse, they 



las?.] 



T%€ PaU Year, Popeiy^ ttnd ^ta PeevagE* 



121 



are the ailvocates of their detnAnd^ 
and the instruments of thi^ir Siccom- 
j>tt»huitMit. Instead af contmlUng a 
wild ochlocracy — instead cif withering; 
wiiti (udii^oant scorn an Htiibilious 
priesthood, and their l^'iiiccndiiiry mi- 
iiion<« — they have condescended to tlic 
inftfinous distinciion of beiii^ the le-dii- 
€r« of a njoh, t«*lsin^ the post of honour 
^nA fortoiu^ the v^jknguurd in the ua- 
sauLt — they have e)ev»ted tti an itrt- 
iiiitiirai dominion the mutdleis herd, 
the rabble of the city* the 

Kennel^mddte — iiok — who«>c filth and dirt 
^oClutet the ilJrcr ipring where Britain dnriku, 

Hfid swelled to the bloated dimciksions 
ufgiga title stature 

thAC orergfown hydm. 
The puiMiioiis headR of wJ^ote envennmcd budy 
Ufre twvathed i petttkncf* upaa ui lU, 

panderin? to the qurnchlcsa cravinj^s 
t>r an apjH^tite, which *' g-rows with 
what It ffeds on," minislerinj^ to the 
ffuni'^d that niU5t yet consume them. 
Tbey have bowed down befqre nn idoj 
of clay, and lirought to Its unhallowed 
altiir the kindred sjerifire of cravrn 
Itearts and treacherous hands, offering 
up chariicter and country to win, with- 
out securing tt Juda^* smile \ but 
wretched cffatnres of a despot's will ! 
what al tentative have they left? To 
this they owe their ptace^-ih^l trcLt- 
siire which kicks the beam, though 
loaded with all. the wi»e and ^ood hold 
prcciouf. They mustohej the demon 
whose word has raised I hem, und now 
commftiids them ; resist ihey Ciuinol ; 
resign they will not ; yield they mu>t, 
and crouch to the inoiietcr whoM> frown 
would blast them a^^ain to nnthinj^rie*.s, 
tsircfs^iiJjf I he fillli from which ihty 
4irtiik with inslinctivc and ill-coii* 

ilitl loctthlnir — Jii wiling on the hapc- 

iierfs whom they have the [jiide 

Btc*l, the biiBcnes* to fear, but not 

EcDuraj^e to rcsi>t» " * And so untst 

sver he wh^'n rank audi w*'aUh» and 
lucalioii ?tno[i to combine in a secret 
btiiul with the vulvar and the ignornnt ; 
thry u>ii»t not expect to pfjveni them — 
they uuty be ^^uiFered to lead» but in 
min ^nll they endeavour to alter their 
direction, or moderate their violctjcc. 
en the evil spirit is nnchuincd tind 
L% the spell tliat raised it will be 

railing to allay it — for the pnr- 
! of a greater excitement they ii:ay 
>werful and dangerous — for these 



of repression and restrwnt altog-ether 
impotent." 

Nor can a doubt darken couviction 
as to the filial conihiummiitloii to which 
we are ailvancin^, unless tome barrier 
b e i n terposed . N ot al on e lb r i he i r o w u 
B^grandizenient arc democrats toiUng» 
to uniin^^e the IramiC of society and 
unlock the pcrilouji torrent of popular 
ambition ; their personal advantage is 
but an accident iit the fatal progre^ of 
1,'rowino- evib — the ceaseless etimtita.nt, 
but neither the source nor olycct of 
existing' agitation ; the founiain of 
bitter waters lies deeper* They are 
but the instruments in the aeeompli^li^ 
ment of a tell design, the leaders iu a 
reiigioHs u*at\ the hired mercenaries of 
an ambitious hicrarctiy, wliicti seeks to 
exalt itself to undi^tputed ^suprtnnacy. 
Our devoted country has been selected 
by the papal power as the seat *if 
western eraj^ire that here her iron 
throne tnuy be hi ted up and her re- 
lentless sceptre swayed in nncon- 
trolled ascendancy — that Ireland may 
remain a sterile rock itt the spreadiiig^ 
ocean of trwth and knowledge, on 
which erery perm of li^bt and hope 
muf^t wither — ihiit it may be set uj>art 
iimon^ the rmtinns of a world, as the 
mouldering but uufidlen monument of 
her dark ambition, her ineipiaLle 
guilt^ — that here she m^y take 

** Hipr royal »caJt» and bkl the torturing wheel 
Be brc>tight,aiid tSruand plnccn, and the hoolc. 
And fecorpioiu,, that her soul od itji revcDgc njuiy 
look.'* 

This is the sole object and must be the 
inevitable result of the present course 
of even 1 9, if their progress be not 
stayed-^the elevaiion of (be papal 
hierarchy upon the ruins of Protest- 
antisnu Not a measure has been 
]>assed, not a chang-e attempted, with 
refcrenec to Irish uffUirs but eiich as 
should accelerate this consu mutation — 
take a glance at their late efforts — 

Is a revenue neecssury to the fuj)* 
jMJrt and diBi^eminaticn of religious 
truth y have those tbut ministered at 
the altar always subsisted by the altar? 
has a fund beeu set apart ft>r centuries 
to that sacred object ? do the labourers 
who hold forth ynto us the word of 
life, thence draw tbeir means of ex- 
istence? then is not the remorseless 
violation of that fund, the deepest 
wound that man can give to the creed 
which it supports ? 

Docs the possession of advocates lii 



|Mr. (doiw liord) Plauket — tempera muCantnr, no« «t mutamur in illib. 



\n 



The Poai Yeati Popet^ and the Peerage^ 



[Jan* 



high places tend to the mamtenance 
and security of the ehurch ai^insi a 
fiteefiless foe? do the polilicai privi- 
leges of her professors present a bar- 
Ticr to the destructTves tkat assail hifr? 
are those privileges illusory, when 
their possessors are vastly outnuro- 
beredf then is it oot adding the insult 
of mockery to the deadliest injury, if 
Jranchise is so mtidified that numerical 
su|>eriority is the only enei^y de- 
veloped ? 

But further and worse, does the man 
exhibit mhat has been implanted in the 
child* does the fruit, in riper yeiirs, 
bear the chanicter of the germ in 
jouth ? does the hoary head carry to 
the grave the principles the Aw/ im- 
bibed ? Then we denounce this last 
grrat triumph of a crafty priesthood 
as the deadliest wound that thought 
could devise or malice execute. Con- 
victions, feelings, faith, and principles, 
are hereby polluted at thetr very 
source : the poison is infused into the 
very fountain of truth aud knowledge ; 
and instead of its waters flowing in a 
pure and heolthful stream, they have 
fieen rendered a pestilential current, 
bringing death to all among whom 
they flow ; and thus might we cnume* 
rate* were it necessary, the endless 
stems of this fatal catalogue ; but cau 
a doubt exist as to the conclusion to 
w hich it leads. When encroachments 
can be made on |>roperty and privi- 
leges, without aggrtindizing the aggfes- 
8or, when error can be diHbsed with- 
out darkening truth, when the assassin's 
arm can be nerved with out end linger- 
ing his victim, then may we hesitate 
to pronounce upon the atrocious de- 
signs of the papiil hiemrchy. 

And let Eiigiiind look well to iti 
with the preservntion of Irish Pro- 
testantism inviolate, her own is iiise- 
perably interwoven. By it ali«np, is 
English authority and alliance suj>- 
ported against the most inveterate 
malice ; every successful assault^ ihere- 
forCj made upon the one, must imp air 
and endanger the security of the <*ther; 
the contiuuanrc of that alliance Is not 
less precarious than its existence is 
cidious in the minds of our dcbuled 
and enfevered peasantry ; hosliliry 
against the Sassenach and the ijtrunger, 
has been a-^sociaicd with and strcnj/th- 
ened by religious obli^ition ; their 
natural hatred being quiekenifd to a 
fiercer intensity by the s<icred sanc- 
tions of divine injuncrion, until it has 
ripertcd to a (^pidt ol ^diiuuiuury vcu- 



ge«nce, to be terminated only bf Ihe 
ruin ut' its object. And further, that 
the rankling imagination of fancied 
wrongs might sharpen the sting which 
goads them, England is held n\* to 
their deepest exec ration as their 
haughty cotK|ueror and ruthless op- 
pressor, that ou her, and her child rem 
and her bith, and her friends, the 
hottest viiiU of a peopIe*3 wrath niigbi 
be poured without mercy or retnoirse* 
In their ignorance of the past, in I he 
moriil slavery of the pretent, their 
blind credulity is open to every im- 
pression which ]ynx*eyed subtlety and 
Sordid lust deem essential to their pur- 
pose \ and thus are they led to riew 
the Knglish as proud intruders, the in- 
vadt r* of their hallowed «oil, the spo- 
liators of their ancient tcmfd<*s, t(»e 
usurpers of their forefathers* horoed* Ihe 
blighting and withering curse of their 
once iiappy isle. While such feelioigft 
exist to fester to its inmost core the 
popular mind, is it not madncst to 
weaken the links that strengthen so 
precariiiiM an alliancCt w hich» if once 
severed, must erect an independent and 
rival standard here, or render thii^ 
country a highway to continental am- 
bition, in subduing England to a 
foreign yoke. The Protestant estab- 
lishment here is to her as an incorrupti- 
ble fortress in a hostile land, at once a 
sentinel over open violence or secret 
treachery; a stable harrier against the 
first outbreak of revolt ; a tow*cr of 
strength and refuge to which the loyal 
may look and rally when tlie incen- 
fliary is abroad, and the work of blood 
has commenced. Protestantism and 
English authority must terminate in 
Ireland together, with the fall of either 
one of the eyes i)f Britain is put ruil ; 
for this purpose alone is that estabtish* 
ment assailed, that the bonds of frater- 
nity may be broken, and in the dis- 
nirmberment of the empire ber down- 
fall he accumplisbed. 

Nor is this the only evil which threat- 
ens that cm|iirc ; the weapon may 
pierce a member and t^top not there, 
but cuter tiu! trunk itself If Britain 
be rent asunder by the coiiYulsions 
which are now portended, the events 
that lead to it will entail destruction 
on England ; the gangrene which cor- 
rupts I lie bmb will fester and irritate 
the biuly aitd render the whole a moul- 
dering, putrescent mass ; and has not 
this morbid change partinlty coiu- 
mcnccd then ^ Already has the Irish 
incendiary iruvcrsed the leikgth aud 



I 



I 



1 



jsa-j 



The Past Fear, Poper^^ and the Peerage. 



123 



> 



dth of thut Iiind^ pi ant m* the 
of future decay, unless their 
DWth be arrested, and witli consum- 
ate skill conducted the cainpai^ to 
fFect the twofold purpose* To avert the 
protecting arm widen England had ex- 
ended over the destined victim, her 
11^11 plaint have been made the scene 
agitation — her own guardians the 
'traitors of her security. With an in- 
fktuation« unequalled but by the skill 
tif the enemy, the objects of destruc- 
tion are induced to become their own 
executioners, and England made to deal 
home upon hi^rsclf the suiciditl bJow. 
Long since would she have been at 
rest — ^loDg since would the calm of rea- 
son there hiive resumed its s^ay but 
for the cca-seless irritation of the Irish 
demagogues, by whom the ebbijig tide 
of disaBection has there been made to 
t5ow, and the standard of revolt erect- 
ed, that every haunt of turbuleuce and 
crime, throughout the British empire, 
might pour forth its filthy occupants 
to swell the insurgent roar, 

A second time, therefore, within 
Ihe same half century does revolution 
and dismemberment threaten the Bri- 
tish empire, and force her again 
to grapple with her malignant and 
once crushed foe* It is now nearly 
forty years since the Romish priest- 
hood attempted the subjugation of Ire- 
land by an effort, in daring fcrooitv 
rivalling the present, but in depth 
and danger immeasurably below it. 
Strengths, and numbers, and fierceness, 
and sanguinary hate, were there ; but 
the master-mind to direct, concentrate, 
and control was wanting ; the blow 
was thus too suddenly given^ and re- 
coiling on the murderer levelled him 
OfO«trate, When organization was 
%en complete, and through the 
igency of the secret counsel^ every 
h^nd was nnital in a fraternity of 
rebclUon; the match was at once 



applied, M'ithout reflecting on the 
enormous power which existed, to 
damp or neutralize the explosion. The 
attempt was, tbercforc, iinsuccessfuJ, but 
tlie causes of its failure have been ana- 
lysed and carefully guarded against.* 
A new system of tactics bus been 
adopted, less rapid in its progress^ but 
more certain in its results ; while tlie 
instrumentality employed — sanguinary 
outrage, secret organization, and re- 
ligious unimusity — remains unchanged. 
The priesthood of Ireland liave iince 
erected a court,f where their paid re- 
volutionists exercise sunrcme power 
over the physical force of the kingdom, 
with a senate house of their own, and a 
dictator to preside under its authority ; 
taxes are levied, ambassadors supported 
in every district, laws promulgated, and 
constituted authority either superseded 
or nullified. While on the one hand, 
through the altar and the confessional, 
the tremendous power of religious des- 
potism cooperates with its present and 
future terrors ; on the other an in- 
cessant fever of excitement is main- 
tained by emissaries from the great 
centre of action ; the one multiplying 
the channels through which the venora 
of bigotry and the hot fire of passion 
might circulate, while the other in- 
creases the diseased and fervid mass 
which is destined to receive it. But 
though by this master-stroke of policy 
t nation is leagued and pledged as one 
man » to a democrat's will the power thus 
accumulated is ditferently wielded ; no 
fierce convulsion threatens — no start- 
ling onset now is made, no volcanic 
burst now, as before, awakes the 
sleeper. Not by a single coup-de-main 
is the consiitution now aJ^sailed — the 
new plan is to cut up in detail. The 
forces they have arrayed, are now u^chI 
subsidiary to the vtemu and not to the 
end. It is not in a general and decisive 
aotion that their sanctions of terror are 



• While oxit rulers are despising the lessona of experience, our enemies are acting 
upon them. It is important to observe that the line of policy adopted towards the 
Caibolics of Ireland before the rebellion of 1796, CDincide* precisely with thai of the 
(trcMiitday — i^e Harrington's Rise and Fall (and obnerve his puerile attempts toas- 
sign other causev), but especially pages 341-2, &c. " though many of the penal and 
rf<trletive statutes were repealed, , , . . tbe^e concesaiona were 

but a stimalus to further exertion, . , * . being important and 

greattT than could have been creilihle before Lord Westmoreland's admin istratioii/ 
tec. In I7n3, the last concewion, the elective franchise, was made : and soon after 
argnnizalion, tn^rrection, and rebellion commenced. We quote from his work, not 
irat of rpspecif for that inane congeries of pointless reasoning and perverted facts, but 
on the principle that the evidence of an adverse witness is conclusive againt^t one's 
opponent, 

f Tk« CaiUolic Awociatton — now the National A»s . 



1!^ 



The Past Year^ Poperff^ and the Peer&ffc. 



[J%B. 



now put forth, but in the Bmall and 
more fktal skirmiili at the hustings and 
vimrt-hmtse. The com i try is traversed 
in every (jUiirler, by ruthless ruffinDs to 
Cither into the re^ristry or to the elec- 
tion, the fMjosaut and the puuper, that 
they may risk the penalties u I unq ugli- 
fied' perjury — that a pn^Bi^site r^^pre- 
sentation mny he s<^eured, kind the very 
wriuourj' t*!' the con«titiitiou turned 
a^ .41 list itself! 

In thi* emererency, en-rirt by sleep- 
less assailatita, betraycti by o^if natural 
gruardians, do we sit down in despair 
and g-ive up all for lost V. — in verity no. 
Our case is critieah but not desperate ; 
not even danserous, if we acquit our- 
fielves hke mv,i\ and therefore have we 
trt*c**d the histtiry of fools and cow arils, 
i\i pluniierera aud trailors^tlierelbre 
have we sketched the pro|,rre89 of tbUy 
»nd madness, i^g-^es^ion aud robljfty, 
liigotry, prothtrycy, Vdood, and crime ; 
well knowintr tiiat all required for our 
fccuritj' is — the dcepfeU conmdion of 
the enmity of our ioQ^^ and the treach- 
ery of (iiir friends — of the actual exiisL' 
ence of impending- dangrer that Its ap- 
proach may l)e arrei»tcd lay firmness 
Hud energy in the use of our rights* 

And already do we see streaks of 
nascent llg-ht dnwuing along the poli- 
tical horizon; dim and f^iut, but fitill 
^i^injr promise of a brighter day ; amid 
the f^lontiiy r«-trosipect of tlie past, 
there U one bri^iil spot of fixed aud 
' D hiding- lustre, on which delighted re- 
miniscence dwells with dntirlug gaze, 
as it ^lows into stronger radiance, and 
wreathes from ont the mists that would 
quench it, a halo to encircle it with 
jrlory ; while hope expands the? i^row- 
iuff sipleiidouT and tnicea in every ray 
tt me^sajje of future peace — peace, the 

• first and greatest bles^injr^" tired rm- 
ture's sweet restorer" — the sooihinir 
balm of life^ — the emblem pledge and 

• forelafte, the crowning- joy, the g^reat 
presidini? spirit of Heaven itself. 

The Protestants of Ireland are not 
jtlone in tlte Ht^ld, withi>ut an earthly 
nim to defend I hem or an earthly shield 
to cover them. The prcat and noble 
ones of the land have arisen, and stood 
ircen the living and the dead o]>- 
iiRg- a barrier to the swe^'piuij flood 
of jRiputar fury. The democrat's ca- 
reer has been anested — sliall we say 
jiermsinently ? The Rritish peers have 
I met the as-auU, and quaih^l not before 
[its vioience, but fearlessly dared the 



vfingeance of a eang-uii»ary faction, hj 
refusing to be the instrunients of their 
crime ; and in that conflict for life and 
death made displays o I heroism aud eu- 
durance, that will form the richest re- 
collections of a future ag-e. On them 
ut>w reist the destinies of the empire. — 
To them a nation's ey^^ are turned^ 
watchinir the i^sue of that struggle itn 
which their fate depends ; we would 
therefore implore them lo pause, con- 
sider and weigh the con^^equences be- 
fore they shriuk from the poFt which 
their value has so ably dcfeiided, and 
tell them, with all the earnestness 
which danger inspires, that if they re- 
treat, their doom is sealed ; and w*il1i 
them the empir*/ falls. If one inch be 
yielded, the point of the wedge is in- 
serted and wliat can then stay its pro- 
irrea^. The measureit th«^y have re* 
jected, go to the root of vested rights 
ami establislied religion, Wiihooi 
their consent, they can never become 
law. Will they then give them the 
sanction of their authority i^nd thus 
strengthen the hands of the spoliator 
and the bigot V And what will con- 
cession obtain from them ? Have they 
not tried it over and over again, nerving 
the arm that is up tilled for their de- 
struction ? Tmve with peculiar weak- 
ness have they bent their necks be- 
neath a traitor's foot — have they se- 
cured his srndc ? After many it 
well-fought field they yielded to 
menace,^ and what has' been the 
result ? Has contentment and gra- 
titude marked the conduct oF those 
to whom they stooped ? A Her 
beariog for years, tlie angry as- 
saults of the priesthood and their 
minions^ they at Icng^th succumbed, 
aud loosed the bands which had coerceil 
their disivffection, antl for w hut ? To 
raif^e to the altitude of British senators 
the slaves of a hostile power, the 
sworn enemies of their rights and pri- 
vileges. The instrnmcnts of inqnisi- 
torial ferfK'ity, that the leaven of their 
malice might i^pread and prevaM and 
poisoii ihje sources of law and govern- 
luent. 

This wa« the first great wound given 
to Protestantism in Ireland. In ad- 
dition to the host of evils which fol- 
lowed in its train, it rendered a se- 
cond defcatf all but inevitable. Were 
it not for the impulse thus given to fio- 
pular eioiteuient and the iuBux of po- 
finlftf leadurg thus pourctl upoa the le- 



I 

I 
I 



I 



• Catholic Hmaut'ipation. 



t Reform Bill. 



hmrt be 



The Past Ytati Poper^j and iJtt Peerage* 



125 






itattti^fjt radical Tel'nrm wouW never 
mrt been sanctioued by our Ujviier 
Huus€, But the jirepoutlcrauec tliat 
iti«*»ii*«uTe ^ave to the muvemeTit purty 
ajt such a crisis, bullied every effort at 
reaktftiice. aod iW Puers shrunk be- 
fare ihe " pressure from without;'* tlie 
€^ilf -wrhicli thi'ir weakness had Ciiused, 
Uii^y h^d ctot the courage to avert. 
The drmoa they bud evoked, they had 
not the fttren^th to maaier. The uii- 
twerving opposition which was so lon;^ 
given to constilutional chaiig*e, giew 
Jkui^uid ttiid beciime extinct ; iidditi|;: 
lother to tiic succession of popaldr 
mphs, tiiid providing the tneana of 
ir recurrence. 

Botli those aieasurei btfcanie Uvv. 
and as SL necessary reault, proved to bt% 
hut the iir^t iustalujenta of an uniiiiut- 
ed — au iliiuiitabie debt ; others huve 
followed ; worthy successors, bearinj^ 
their parentis impress — in the short 
interval of a year or two» we seem to 
have grown eld in revolutionary dar- 
ing. V\Tiy, a century would scarcely 
havesaJiiced to raise the spirit of change 
tothe colossiil ma^^uititde it n ow exh kbits. 
laces now are patii^ntly listened to- — 
are openly made^ — efforts are 
opposed — encr oach m eo ts are 
ively acquiesced in, which a year or 
o Rgo would have been hrauded as the 
Ulackest treason. \V' ould not the most 
abandoned of the firoBif^ate press nf 
thii day huve deemed their pa^c 
llttled by the prunent virulence that 
deltiyres the kingdom ? Tirae and 
e forbid our ijuoting examples, 
ibt aorely a line can scarcely be 
■oafined that is not preg-nant wub a 
caodour of raalignity — a hardy avowal 
of pfditicaJ l>aseiies9 — a vehemence of 
revolutionary pnssion Itoui whicli the 
most reckless of their predecessors 
would have shrank,* and to ttit'ir Lord- 
ships raone especially, passing events 
ate atteriiig' a most articulate voice ; 



ujetiaces have been urged, and new de- 
sin ns uitfoUled, which niii?;t found in 
their ears like the echo of a ili.staut 
earthijuake. Au iustirijeut rabble re- 
ipectd «ut dignities, when their hour of 
frenzy comes, and we need not p^int 
out the tirst victims of popular wrath ; 
but a niortf imuiiui ut |>cril ihreutens 
theui — a licentiuus press is inundiitiii^ 
the kingdom with i^voss und unutuiskt d 
Jaeobiniiui, Btiuiuluting- the milignunt 
h^itred of a sijLihilejss mob afjainst their 
character and their existence, erhau^t- 
iii;2: the vocitljuldiry of iuveciivtf, in 
heupiu^r nl>lot|iiy en them — hut thi* 
source of iheir danuer is bi^^her still. 
Were wc to take up the liist year's re- 
cords of our second chamber, ynd 
thence detail the unbl ashing declara- 
tion-ii njudc in solenin council, or ihe 
measure proposed and yet to he urfred 
upon a m landed land — conccntratiu^ 
and eoiUodyiiig' all that insolent ma- 
lice ever yet durcd to utter or perpe- 
trate airaiust the oSijeets of its hate, 
a faint outhne thus mi^ht be g^iven of 
t h e pexj 1 1 h a t i I [ t p e ud s.f A nd i t a up u rs 
something oaiinous in the coming des- 
tinies of the empire, wlicn the solemn 
sutiction of seiiuiorial di|jrnity is im- 
pressed upon feiociuuB rmtrag'c ag^airist 
all that h liig-h ai^d mib'e amongst os — 
when men of rank and opulence are 
found solicittnsr tnfitmy in the cutue of 
revolutionary turpitude, und directing^ 
the Btreom ol popular fury airaiust the 
brightest and greatest characters which 
are yet to udorn our history's page. 
Ikit none of these things need intimi- 
date the Peers. The utmost etforlsi of 
remorseless passion, or deliberate ^uilt» 
will exhibit, but the im potency of an 
expiring grasp, if they be V>ut true to 
them^ielvLS, if they but see the dini- 
ger and summon fortitude ta resist 
it. I'll em selves the arl titers of their 
own and their country'?* fate, by 
shrinking, they only couit destruction. 



* ToQching the Peerage — a leading periodical would scrircely }iav« inserted n few 
jreari ago such passages as these — 

Need we deDiooatrnte the incompatibility of the existing House of Peers with good 
i;ori»rninei)t ? 

Why arc we to he told that recourse will not be had to organic changei the onty 
ihiiiij they fi*ar ? 

The pear is nearly ripe — the Appeal may soon be made to the people, whether they 
iHIl sabmit to the despotism of the Peers. 

The resolves in Pandemonium on good and evil, are not a matter of more cer- 
tainty Uian those of ilie Peers on the tame questions, 

f Space ffTTbids our more than alluding to the shameless insults levelled at the 
u|)|»er, hy meinhers of the lower house last tesaion^ — hut Mr. O'Counell'a, Mr, Roe- 
bock 'i^ aad other notices on the journfils of the latter, touching Peerage Reform ! ! ! 
apeak for themselves. 



196 



TAe Pasi YeoTf Popery^ and the Peerage^ 



[Jan, 



as every inch they yield, every con- 

[ cession ihey nmLc, is but iiccelemting 
ihe rapiiJity of their descent, and risk- 
[ Inj? tlieir exblence by a suicidal act* 

Bui hiiitory and experience alike at* 
[test, that passive convpliance with po- 
I fiylar demands, instead of averting' or 
[ retardin«r, ay:gravutes inipending dan* 
I U^^ — ^^^^^ '^ ^^^^ siimuliites Ihe cravings 
[of insatiable appetite — that it U b^t 
[ breaking the miiniiic's fetters, — for hitn 
L to ttirn and rend his keeper. We 
[ would remind our Peers of the acts of 
I their forefathers in 1 1>48, when unli- 
i mi ted concession cbaraeterized every 
I meusure until al^er patience was eat^ 
hu listed, and virtue outraged by the 
I most insane acquiescence, they ven- 
itiired to hesitate on a trying occasion, 
j They shrunk from the precipice to which 
r their weakness had urged them ^ and 
[forthwith the resolution which is now 
I only proposed, was passed and exe- 
I cuted — ** the Commons declared, that 
[they w^re the sole representatives of 
[the nation, that the Peers held their 
Beats as individuals in a private ca- 
fiacity, and that if they did not consent 
to acti necessary for the preservation 
of the people, the Commons and com- 
plying Lords should join together, 
&e.*'^ The sequel is known — sen* 
tence of extinction wetit forth against 
I them, and they almost became tlie 
[ executioners of it themselves. And 
[ ive would also remind them of the con- 
duct of the French nobdity in 1791, 
• when a Parisian mob clamoured for 
[their destruction. The noblesse in 
L the spirit of a generous ciiivalry, (thev 
I knew not the character of their aa^aiU 
J ants,) at the very first struggle in otie 
f flight (loth August) voluntarily sur- 
I rendered all their privileges, abolish- 
' \n^ dignities and eniolunicnts of every 
[kind — they expiated their weak- 
I nets by spoliation^ exile, imprison* 
[Tnent, and death ! I^ — and again^ — to 
I turn from the past to the present — we 
[ would direct their aitention across the 
1 Atlantic, to the boasted Utopia of the 
demagogue i&nd the sciolist There, 
llhe hrM shock of that earthquake was 
l/elt, which rocked every throne in Eu- 
Tfope, and sieemed eomniissioued against 
Lall political stability. We take up the 
record of events which are hourly 
transpiring there, and we ask^ has the 
cnuvulsion, which shook that nation 
Jrom tlie parent stem, ceased to vi- 
brate ? Details are uri necessary, when 



the occurrences are on crety lip : but 
we fear not contradiction when we 
state, that if ever peace and union 
blessed those states, their days are 
numbered. A yttar or two siucei that 
eoilossal fabric was almost rent in 
twain I — the chasm was closed, but 
not cemented— the unhealed wound b 
now bid from view, hut tierce and un- 
checked fever still riots iu every limb. 
And how could it be otherwise ! The 
germs of internal dissolution there 
flourish iu rank luxuriance. The peo- 
ple — the unerring wisdom, the stem 
virtue, the majesty^ the nower, the rm- 
geancft of the people, there, form the 
sole thetne of flattery, the s^le object 
of terror, the pole-star of leieisladon. 
Legitimate government, therefore, in 
Ameiica, trembles on the verge of a 
volcano. Popular fervour* stimulated 
by adulation, unable to govern, unwil- 
ling to obey, is gathering reststtest en- 
ergy — each moment of partial sup- 
pression only aeeumulating force for 
the ultimate explosion. And in vaia 
does the ruling power now seek to stay 
it: already is the utter impotency of 
coercive efibrt both seen and felt ; a «d 
the passive nominee of a demagogue 
taught, that he may, by acquiescence 

yMtn 

Not glut, the nerer-goriKfd levuiihan. 

At this moment is a rival banner 
ready for elevation in every state ; and 
insurrection, civil war and dismember- 
inent threaten — a train of evils which 
successively await, and must inevitably 
terminate the Western Republic. 

Nor should the apprehension of civil 
convulsion induce our peerage to yield 
one momettt to a delusive expediency. 
The assault will still wear the aspect 
of constitutional effort, and the strug- 
gle long continue a moral one ; to re- 
sist which etfectually, only moral firm- 
ness will be required. Though ruffian 
violence, midnight intimidation, and 
sanguinary outragre prevail, the sphere 
of their operation is, and long will be, 
limited to the poll and the court-hou»e. 
We must suffer many a defeat, they 
must achieve many a triutnph, ere a 
reign of terror commence, era the iron 
sway of popular anarchy become uni* 
versal — a contummation which noughi 
bid conccttiim can ever produce. At 
present, therefore, the menaces of 
physical coercion may he met by the 
smde of derision. The democrat may 



I 
I 



1 



IMT.] The Past Ymr, Popeiy, and the Peerage. 



127 



_telk of rebellion ; but his threatening 

|OD, irithout alarming the most li- 
flcarcely yields a pretext to a 

al ministry to screen their act« of 
pedkiy. Well they know, that an ap- 
peal to force would only hasten their 
destruction, which now liogereth — that 
the Britlfth phalani, true as the steel 
ihey wear, would now, as before, sweep 
to the winds of heaven their mad and 
disorderly hordes. No I never will 
the flames of civil war consume our 
ftdr and fertile plains, until by folly, by 
cowardice and treachery » pcifiular fer- 
voar be ripened to wild and resistless 
frenzy. 

And 1^ of civil convulsions, so of 
the puerile menaces of organic change 
in the upper hou»e. It is only by a 
revututionary second chamber that the 
fini wiil ever be invaded ; and what is 
to be ^arcd from the attenuated ma- 
jority the movement there commands ? 
Such an atir nipt, at present^ wunld 
only ensure defeat, and merit scorn. 

But a few sburt munths, and things 
may fearfully change* A few more 
triumphs to the movement piirty, and 
the opposition, which is now difficolt, 
Drill tneN be vain. The mnrmnr thai 
now awakes, will then become the yell 
that appals, — or the cry for bboil that 
is never hushed but to have its victims 
marked. The Peers now stand at the 
Rubicon of their own and their coun- 
try*© Cite. Will they cross, and tousg 
the demon of civil war, to scorch the 
nation with bis fiery breath ? We liope 
better things : and therefore, a? men 
whose lives, and liberticSt und Liilh de- 
)>endt we call upon our noble Lords to 
"bide the shock," to stand fust and 
quit them like men. We have remind- 
ed them of their ancestors' frailty ; we 
would now turn the picture, and talk 
of their achievements, were it not that 
tlM* task would take volnnies where we 
have iiot lines. Are not out peers the 
descendants of those, whose names 
stand blazuued brightest on the daz- 
z\mg pinoacles of our country's glory ? 
potent spells, to awake in every breast 
resolves of might and virtue? Have 
aot their ancestors led our armies tu 
ory — ^swept the ocean with our 

Its, and gathered deathless laurels in 
^fery field of fame '? Has not their 
courage sui^itained our liberties, and 
Mread our dominion ? Does not the 
llood of the Howards and the Percvs 
flow in their veins ? Are they not the 
descendants of Marlborough, of Chat- 
ham, and Somers ; of Abercromby, 
Howe» and Nelson ? And have they 



not at their head the hero of a hun- 
dred battles, before whose mighty arm 
a world's despot shrunk paralysed and 
prostrate ; who smote the sword from 
the victor's hand ; who weighed na- 
tions in a balkince, and appointed each 
its due portion ? And will our peers 
forget the glories, to imitate the weak- 
ness of their ancestors? Perish the 
thought They will never become the 
fawning sycophants, the abject slaves 
of a debased and debasing ascendancy* 
They will never yield t^ the serpent 
fascination of a wily foe, who has min- 
gled death in the springs of a nation's 
life-blood, that her people might writhe 
under the [voisou tnat consumes them. 
While removing the dross that encum- 
bers, tliey will not pull down the pil- 
lars that support the fabric of our con- 
stitution — ^that august and glorious fa- 
bric, which the wisdom of their ances- 
tors fortified, and their trophies adorn ; 
which has survived the wrath of the 
zealot* the rage of the democrat, the 
sword of the invader -, and stood for 
centuries, unscathed bv Hood, by fire^ 
or tempest ; never will they suffer it 
to be trampled on by the elovcn-fect 
of an atrocious priesthood. But, 
strong in the armour of ancient faith 
and loyalty, let them resist the pesti- 
lential genius of republicanism, with 
its delusive and ever-crumbling theo- 
ries, nor wait until the cup of popular 
frenzy is full to overflowing, to close 
its burning fountains. 

And now a word tu the Irish Con- 
seivatives. The plane and object of 
your assailants are fully devi4oped — 
the elevation of Popish supremacy, on 
the ruins of Protestantism, and your 
entirfiaiion or eipulsion irom Ireland. 
This consummation is to be effected, 
not by pliysical, but legisliitive coer- 
cion. \our natural guardians are the 
slaves of a fact ion » and have a majority 
of your representatives to sup[>ort 
them. In this state of things it is evi- 
derit, that the peerage is at present the 
only barrier to the ruin that impends j 
una even tbiit, your Iitst hope, now is 
threalened. A second titne, in British 
history, is the exlinelion of our upper 
cbaimlM'r attem|iteii ; most ineptly^, no 
doubt ; but it is by you that this must 
be pnived : yon are the source of their 
strentrth in this viinl comhut ; by the 
manifestation of your support tlieir re- 
ssintance is to be rendered effectual, 
Wc have laid before vou a tkithful 
transcript of the state of ireland, and 
won Id now^ ask you, what has given it 
an aspect so appalling? What hat 



im 



The Past Year^ Popery^ and Uie Fmrat^. 



[Jan. 



been the* pregnant cause of nil th(ifve 

► evils? Bear wUh a lew word*, nfH of 
» orfisure» b«t iimiiitHrti \ — nnd wonlfl, 
I fhitt iii«t«a<i nX hHnif if^cAiifie>4l hv l\w. 

rT^» i-hej were In-uiwiect tn deep cuii- 
vietioii on the miridt— hM it not been 

1 your apathy and itjennwus, whiJe iin- 
pliicabltf hostility was sirHJiiing *»very 

. nervii for your dcstriic lion V Huve 
you not, mith childlike infarutition, in- 
stead c»f meeting and averting, closed 
yoiiT eyt?< to the comiti*? dnng-er^ and 

► tjy irie]t[iiicab]e intlf»leiicf', ppmiitted a 
spark, wliicli ait mfanfs foot mig-hl 
ofiee hiive cni«hed, to threaten aniver- 
Sftl couHitf^ration z* It may well he satd 
cif you, that Vkhile you sle^>t the tares 
were sown, and yf>n N«oke only to see 
what ait enemy Imd done. 

But thouarh you tan ied so longf from 

I the field, thonwrh your first inexperi* 

diced L' {forts were opposed to an ejie- 

«iy practised in condmt, nerved by ina- 

> lig:nily, and flushed hy partial snecess* 
I A most encouTugintf, a triumfjhant stand 

lias been made^ Even already the re- 
I suits of your fresh-roused eonrajre. your 
\ iliiflinchio;r firoinei=iS are apparent. Be- 

llold the chatiL'^e rhiit has b<*en wrought 

among ua! Instead of a few tle?pi>*ed 
I und tremhlinir 9Hair«;lerp, cTouehinjj^ 

rcjond their devotfd leaders, awaiting- 
I Ttiia in every shock of popular vio- 
' lence, without a hopp to inspire them; 
' ** nothing- left hut their honour/* and 
' the high resolve, to share llx^ir conn- 
' try's fate, as was our slate when the 
[lpT«t de-formed parliament met — onr 
lleiiders are now {surrounded hy u noble 
' phalatiTC, scarcely inferior to the fi»e in 
I itnoibeTS, but how intinite!y above ihem 
' in genius, wisdom, and honour : atid 
' above alK In their saered vmeration for 
' that hvg-h old !*;tirit of IJritish thoojrht 

and feeiing^ — the true source and pate- 
[ 0Udrd of our ntitit«n^*l irlory ; and 
f iiguin£t whicb arc now rom-entriiti fi 
^ the utmost energies of blind, iid'uriLitCj 

implacable malice* 

There is, howevf r, still a majorily ; 

base and paltrvr i^o doiiht ; t»ut 
^ it must be annihilated, that the 
I threat* and desi^ijs which are based 

tfiereon may share its jrravc. For lUis, 

renewed eicertifm i« necessary. The 

> incendiary has avowed his guilty pur- 
pose, and knnwi* the pcnuhy w hich na- 
tional retrihntlon v^ill eicaet ; the CTa- 
vingrs of reveitjrc are tht-reforc qoiek- 
ened to the recklessnciss of a desjrair 
which would purchase with life the 
death of its victim. Our safety thus 
rests upon the unqualified putting forth 
bf every anlajjonist effort , — upon o«ir 



showine a determined, undaunted front, 
ami wiehMni^, with the «Pftured sicrll of 
our opponCTit^, those wee pons of tHe 
eouj^titution whicli tJiey are perverting 
to its overthrow. We have already 
pointed out the line of policy adotfted 
tor your *»xtirpation, — a sp&eies of as- 
sault as fatal as it is treacherous ; deli- 
berate atKl noisfflesji, bot anerrtngr in 
it** operation ; by which the syirtcni of 
rqjrc^entHtion that was designed to be 
the Palladium of your libertiei, has 
i>eeii render^nl the eng-ine of thpir de»- 
tructi(»n. We have told you, that ihe 
eonrt of iikqistry is the place where 
this parricidal act ijj soutfht to be j»er- 
petrated, — hu iittenijit which must ine- 
vitably succt^ed, if fear or apathy be 
indulyfcd. To that scene of conflict 
wc would urge ^'m\ by those motives 
that muiit ever awake to alarm and 
promptitude, — the protection of yoar 
]>roperty, your freedom, your faith ; — 
your happiness in this world— your 
prospects In a bi?tter* Surely you wiW 
not pftu^e and procrastinate until the 
cloud, that now lour^, ^hall send forth 
its li|;htnin^s ; when the only iioon 
that mercy will vouchsafe* k tlfie alter- 
native of an appalling' death, or a worse 
apostacy ? Will you wait, until the 
torcli of anarchy is in your dwellingii 
the Jacob in dagger at your throats, or 
the rev<vhitionary halter at your necks? 
A learlul crisis imptnid-£, and every 
moiuent i^ presrnant with eventful in* 
lerest. To loiter is to perish. Let, 
therefore, vigilance, ener?ry, and ac* 
lion characterize your conduct ; and, 
while undetikHl by it* intluence, catch 
somcwhdt of the spirit that nerves your 
foe, milking r.eal and ind igf nation sub- 
serve the cause of truth and freedom. 
Enrol your names upon that record ^f 
the bnive and free, to which your 
country esills you. Be tip at your 
pf>st, gM'elling^ the ranks of faith and 
loyalty, that by your wide, and deep» 
and diiuotlet'S front, — by your enthusi- 
astic cheers of unchanETttd devotion, 
your noble leaders may fed tin* thrill 
of tearless iinj>e, and, strong in yonr 
streii^'th, may meet nntnoved the 
sweeping' (Irrfjtl of wild lieentiottsiiess, 
which bffBtB and MiTprei* round themi — 
ihiit, contemning alike the remorseleii 
pa?&i(in and bruta! revelry of a reeklen 
but irnpc)tent rabble, they may staud 
inuti^mayed, amid the rollings and 
bowlings of the moral deluge which so 
portentously threatens, and say with 
stilling enerpj to its advancing vraten, 
" so far shall ye go, and no farther I" 
C, C. T. 



I 



« 



I 



I 



DUBLIN 

UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE. 



No. L. FEBRUARY, 1837. Vol. IX. 



CONTENTS. 

Page 

SIR ROBERT PEEL 131 

EVERT MAN HIS OWN PHILOSOPHER 142 

▲ SKETCH 144 

CONFESSIONS OF HARRY LORREQUER.^Cbap. I. Coik.^Cbap. IL Kileosb. 145 

MODERN TOWN.TALK 159 

WASHINGTON IRVINO*S ASTORIA 1G7 

SISMONDI ON THE CONSTITUTIONS OF FREE NATIONS .176 

THE TRUE THEOLOGY OF NATURE 190 

THE HOURS 195 

SYSTEM OF NATIONAL EDUCATION FOR IRELAND .... 196 

FARDOEOUGHA THE MISER; OR. THE CONVICTS OF LISKAMONA 

Bt Willum Caelbton, Author of ** Traits and Stories of the Irish Peasantry." 212 

THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND QUARTERLY REVIEW . , . 230 

OH, IF AS ARABS FANCY— Bt Jobn Anstbr, LL.D. . . . . 233 

DR. WALL'S.REPLY TO THE EDINBURGH REVIEW.— Part 11. 234 



DUBLIN 
WILLIAM CURRY, JUN. AND COMPANY. 

SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, AND CO., AND R. GROOMBRIDGE, LONDON. 
SOLD BY ALL BOOKSELLERS IN THE UNITED KINODOIkL 



Id th« press, Two Vols, small 8to. 

SCENES 

FROM 

THE LIFE OF EDWARD LASCELLES. 

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN THE DUBLIN UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE, 

With Corrections and Additions by the Author, 
Printing for Wiluam Cubby, Jan. and Co., 9, Upper SackviUe-Street 



THE DUBLIN 

UNIVERSITY MAGAZINE. 



No. L. 



FEBRUARY, 1887. 



Vol. IX. 



SIR BOBBRT PEEL. 



Ir by some great sociul evolution in 
ihc nut ore of a parlianieniary «li vision, 
the wholt butly of the htyal and well- 
affected to thet'oiistUnuoii nf EnirlantJ, 
wore to be senurjled from i he radical 
rrfoiixiers, we have long tVIr cmifideTit 
that the lutier would he tau'jlii one 
g^reat tact of no snjiill im|iorltiiice lo the 
country* — ^tb:ii thuyar*! a contemptible 
minority, which derives \ts whole 
vei;:ht Jrom the base pas!*ions and the 
bliiid UL-tivity wliich make it an eifi- 
cidit iDstruiiient in the hands of every 
polidcml adventurer — th(* " scoundrel 
to be found in every villaj^e, who calls 
himself the public/' But the action of 



and before its virtue, coursig-**, and re- 
fiistiii^ spiiir can he folly hrou^ltt into 
concert ; the destructive may have !»e- 
cnred a position inetmststent with the 
public uafety. Such is the fearful pro- 
cess that has been paisiiing before our 
eyes from the end id' the Penir^solar 
war to the present moment. It has 
been such as to niiike many a sound 
fieart qnail for England, and some 
leadint? minds retire in despair from 
t h e h ope I es^'Ctj ndict. H ui i e less i n d ee d , 
in the histSjry of natiooij, have such 
coiiHiets been. We never, ourselve«, 
despaired, for weti nsled in the righteous 
Power, that has never been deserted 



the &aiier opinioDs and better aJlcetcd by £n|^land, or abandoned her in fier 

feelings of the country is, as ever hub distress. 

been the case, shjw and retarded in it* Great as was the danger, and slow 

progTCbS. Whdc error is easily in- as has been the rally, the mind of Eng- 

volved ill specious pleas of patriotism laud is awake ; voice calls^ lo voice — 



and public jiood, and exposure depends 
Oil the Tnoredi^cult process of disabus- 
iujNr the public uund ; — the peaceful and 
induct rii»us, — the lione^t aiitd hi^h- 
minded have a reluctanccto in- dra^-ered 
forward into colliiaion with turbulence 
aud wrongful violence* and uie di*voiil 
of that tierce eucr^iy which liives ijs 
ftttal power aud couccnlraiion to the 
factious. Aud if il be considered iliat 
ibe elements of revolutionary nnive- 
tuent, working together, lang mni under 
irariou'! forms, in many an under-^ round 
channel, are ueeessurily far advanced 
tnti> maturity, before resiatauce can be 
thought of — it niU be understood^ 
how fearful is the advantage of the de- 
structive principle — how desperate 



and deep ealli: to deep — the virtue, 
wisdom, and power of tlie first people 
on the earl h — Protestant Constitutional 
Eoglund. The strngiile un which the 
fate of the kinpdcmi was suspended — 
had been transferred to Inland — the 
first blow wa* struck at the ri|;ht^ of 
the stdiject, aud the Hccond at the 
C'hurch of Christ. Such hlriws could 
not be c«»ncealed by palliations and 
the conservative!? of li eland were 
brought logt thf r by the er>unrion and 
iniinineut danrr^r. The Conservative 
spirit of Kh^ilimd responded — and the 
Seiise (jf e^ery right and true heart be- 
gan slowly lo be linked hiio commu- 
nism through the bnif, until the voice 
of the public — not the otlseounui^ of 



the odds agaiosi the counter.iciion of sedition and i^iuorkinee, to which that 

right, truth, jtiiiittce, religion, and civil hie^ti name i!» s.^metime^ nrrsapplicd-^ 

order. Tbousjiids of rightly dii*]toscd but the genuine^ well-in lbrmed» in- 

minds are imposed on — and the conn- du<«trioos, iititeparnlent, sound-minded 

try sut^tjins many a heavy shock be- British public, utters its irenninr 9<iiti- 

fo're the |mbUc min<l is truly roused nieni^^ Xoiumus h^ti^ AitLi/ifr muinrii — 

into a &tatD of intcliigenl attention; as loudly, and we ttu>i a:i irrj:fMbtibly 
Vol. IX. a 



132 



Sii Itvhmi l\^L 



[Feb. 



as ever ii \\mt bern luard in the liuur of 
cotLstitutif»n:il (liiii^rr. 

The rrtitii.ni which we have tliu» de- 
sen hrcl, has \yvvM IW soLUp v'eni!! ihe 
subject of ^^le*^tic*Jl,am^^n^^ the imvprsrd 
or i)ni>h4ervmit in jmblic ^ventji. — - 
The douljl we trust is over and the 
8iiiij>Ieiit Protectant will feel as little 
taint-hearted on this head* as the mott 
WMtchful Con:4ervLiiive who sounds the 
watchword of the fit^-bt. It would be 
impos<iible to imagine a sifjn mon? latal 
tu the hopes of the iufidel dfinwiTrtiy, 
which has »o km^ bani)*h«*<l ord^r and 
peace frrim the countrv, thin (he di - 
rbive t'Oiidiicf of tilasjjow^ iu its rL'cent 
reception of the ill!i5tfiou« leader of 
tb(* Coa«ervative* of Enrrland. The 
city of Glasgow, seeond to iiotie in the 
empire for its comniiTclal pro^jKjrity 
and profound inteiliijericr, hi*s lieeii les^* 
liup|ii]y marked for the curious incon- 
sistency with whieh' it bad suffered it- 
self to lend an ear to the sjiuriouts li- 
beridiftm of itilidcl philosophpr»» and 
ladiciil empirics. But it has illustri- 
ously redccuii^J itself, by the more 
sterliiijc liberality, which frankly ac- 
knowledifcs error. 

Of tiki"* jrlorious event it would be 
our desiie to pve our renders tlie iiiti-t 
full and minute iutelli^^^ence. Fur tnit 
the atightcst incident can be wuntin^ 
in interest, which is connected with an 
event, for tlie report of which evtry 
intelligent tniml in the kingdom \% m\ 
the watcb» But our Xumber is almost 
tnucle up, and while we write the 
primer i^ at a stand. We must, there- 
fore, though fain to dally with a theme 
we love, paisS on with a rapid pen, and 
endeavour to select the points of chief 
interest lor narration or eomment. 

After what we hrive Faid. it will be 
unnecessary to dwell on the fact of the 
iuaugrurdtion of Sir Robert Peel as 
Lord Rector of an University, hitherto 
couspicutms for it* Whig predilections. 
Thouu:h jostiee will not allow us to 
pass cm without the qualifying^ admis- 
sion, that it is but recently that the im- 
putiitiint of Wliijrtii^ai implied taint- 
ed loyaby and unconslitationttl opi- 
nion. Thf young are by nature 
Whi^^s — maturity brings experience 
Hud conscrvatisDi. 

Nor will ii be necessary for us to 



delay with the ioiuitrund speech — it 
han won the ihe apphiuse of e\en the 
liberal ('Tess — and this nniy be its 
jtmise. It wa^ marked by that stront^ 
masculine common sense, discnmi- 
natini^: Siigaeit v and tact, .nid nervous 
simplicity of lang-oage, winch are the 
^;rcat features of Sir Robert as a pub- 
lic j?peaker. Even on the topic of 
education conservative, be dwelt with 
frreat vigour and propriety of U lustration 
on the study of thtwe modcb of cla&sieitl 
antiquity, from whieh so many firstrate 
orators and writers have been formed, 
and to the neglect of which nmy be 
trdced the m<jdem corruption of Bri- 
tish liieriiture. 

We eome, now, to the true point of 
universal interest, the dinner given by 
tlie city on Friday the 1 ;3tb. It is hardly 
less tnemorable for the explicit decJa- 
ration« from Sir Robert Peel, of which 
it was the occasion, tJmn for the cir- 
cumstances which proudly distinguish- 
ed it from all ordinary public demon- 
Btrations — the magnilieence, etiperb 
scale, m\A perfect g-ood taste of the 
pre|>ar.itions, such as could only come 
from wealth and intclli-rencc of the 
iirst order. We remark this, because 
the facility with which public enter- 
tainments can be got up, tn some de- 
gree diruinisbes the ordinary iuipression 
of this mode of exprcssiny: public sen- 
timent, A pavilion, which dined 
Thrt c Thousand Four Hundred and 
Thirty- Five Gentlemen, — thirty-two 
feet in Iji'ijfht, supported by twenty- 
ftiur eli'^antly formed pillars, with gral- 
lerie^ on three sides, and adorned by 
nati^tnal device*j, was built for the oc- 
casion with a celerity that ^urprii^ed 
the builders tbemselve!^. At five the 
guests assembled in this vast pavilion, 
more splendid than the htjUs of Ori- 
ental m on arch a*— 

When Eigj'pt with Am^tU itrove 
In wealth »ficl litxury 

— with that cakn and orderly preci- 
sion which marked that the guests 
were of a better order than public 
dinners sometimes bring tog^ether in 
these times. Among these g-uests 
were the prime of the Scottish aris- 
tocracy,* One incident we must 
not omit, itrongly indicative of the 



I 



* AmoTi|,rst the distinguished individuali who entered the liall with the Hoo. 
Baronet was Henry Mauteith, Efiq. of Carstairf, the President j and afterward» we 
observed the followinji noblemen and genii umcn nn the right and Jeft of liie Chair- 
iiitin: — Sir Rehert Peel, Bart. >LP. ; Eiolof Hardwicke; Marquess of Tweednle; 
Edrl of Morton; Earl of GIrs^ow j Earl of Haddington; Eur! of Rosslyn ^ Vj»- 



16S70 



Sir Robert PtvL 



133 



[ rb^i aiiil llie fi't'lhi;^ ; Sir Hubert 
iVel*!! lir^t iiilrmluL'tiiuj was greeled 
[by n<3 kmd utierr^ — tln^ riioiiii tji wai* 
I fell in every liearl lo Um sactrtl — 
Ltulctiiti )«s die eve of buttle; he was 
J received whh no lifarrlt"s» outcrVt 
[tuch tiB miJ*cs iu prostituted voi^ik'* 
I r»itioii !»♦ fore tlie busc iilols of the 
Cj>rfi-Ext'hHriy:c, — but tb*^ hefirty chtcr 
[fif ihree thotisiind CunservJilivcs was 
Jjprccecied by a deep, stiddt?n» lyrcalhloi^s 
lyildnc'C which shywed the revernice of 
1 Scotland for the representative of the 
U^titmal eHiii5^e» And well, before tliey 
[ Itft that room, was that re^jnet viiidi- 
^€fited, aud tlic hTg:h expeetulion.^ ful- 
iilllcd of that eoitipaiiy, aud llie hyii- 
idredj of ihouskiods who sate expeclunt 
llhruti^limit England* Sent land, Hiid 
Ireland* for every word that was to be 
[ftpuken on thiu evening* 

Sir Robert FceF}* speech has been 

Kery ably reported in *;ome of ihe 

^Conservative papers; and we deem it 

ri^ht lo say, thut it has been m fiir 

contracted by some of their itberui op- 

.ponents as to be entirely strinpefi of 

I its pretension to elotjuenee. Tbin wc 

Ido not coadeain^ — it b the cuniinon 

icuKtom on both &ides, and is by most 

Ftcaders understood. AH agree in a 

Isubstdutinlly fair *tutenjent of the po- 

[litical sentiments he has »a fiistincily 

lexpres>^ed. As we are here reviewing^ 

llimply, we shall so far follow their ex- 

Itmple, earnestly advising, inlreatin^ 

Dvery one of our readers not to rest 

until, for the benefit of his whule 

bouiiehold, he possesses a full aud ac- 

Irurate copy of this sonnd and mu>ierly 

^enfMJ^ititm of genuijie Conserviitism, 

Sir Rfibert expressed! himaelf freely 

on the niee and difficylt limits between 

Ircforin and revolntion. He advoeates 

itio narrow, short-sighted adhereuee to 

[|iii*t furim of institolion, whieh soeieiy 

\s pro|fTess must e^er continue tn 

[outgrow : nut recognizing the eul argued 

Bod altered frame of modern society, 

' he asserts, — 

*• 1 *ce tbc necessity of wideuinrj 

the foundtttion on whieh the defenee 

«jf the British Constitution and the 

Ltclieious etl^ihlisbments must rest 

*J si^k you — I have no ri^hl to ask 

tan fi»f lUiy cHjtifes&ioii of error, or 



are to follow tin m op. We 
for our pait, dtJirhled the intent i< 



even of the ehaiiffe of opinion — all 1 
iisk Is dt) you udlierc to the prineiplea 
*jn wbleh reform was aihot'alid in 
I8;il ? and if > uii di>, with me yon 
ought to ct»mbine for tfie ftetenee of 
the inslitnlions of ihe eoinitry.*' 

T(j the peeuliiir assetnhly, ut that 
nionn ut atldressed by Sir Robert* ihe 
up I teal is fair — iherc is no room lor a 
taunt on either side. Time, and espe* 
rience* which tbllows in its tnun* has 
ta^jfjht to both I he lesson of adversity. 
But we shall lellow and reconnnend llie 
worthy ietider's [sraf[>siou of amnesty 
for the past, and trust for the future. 
Wc shall not **titiht ajiain the battle 
of BannoekUnrn and Floddcn." t)ne 
thintr i** fair to admit, tlikd the i^orkiuj;:^ 
of enaelment--* may be for good or evil 
ateordin^'^ lo the hands to whieh they 
are entm^ted and the measures that 

never, 
ions of 

Sir Robert ; but we still rioubt the 
ju^itne-js of bis former application of 
the wise principle of reform, which he 
ipjotes as (he rule by which he waa 
gfjvcrned^^a careful adberemc "lo 
the aeknowlcdgeii principles of the 
eoustitulion, by whieh the prerogative 
of ihc cruwn, the authority of both 
houses of parliament, and the riffhts 
and libertie> nf tliC people are et|ualJy 
secured/' All penerul statenmnts re- 
quire the nicest mollifications before 
toey can be confided to the operation 
fjf detail. And this necessary precau- 
tion is prt^eiJiely what now meets our 
uriquiditied ajtj>rniiation in this able 
aud satis^tactory speech. It answers 
the f pi est inn, what do \on mean by 
the princi|ile!4 tjX ihe British eonstitu- 
tiim, by wliieh ull swear And few ajarce 
y[)ijn? Sir Robert here leaves no loop- 
luile for ret n at from the assertion of 
Lis ftjiure rules of public conduct* 

" Let tis coujc then to ihe main 
|n>int, bee ij use I ilo not wish to con- 
ciliate your confidence, or attempt to 
gain yonr support by hoist inij t\ilse 
eoloors, I menu, rjrentlemen, to sup- 
port the national estahlisbments which 
crunieci Ptntrstautism with the stale 
in the three courTtries (tremendous ap* 
plause* the whole aiy»emblage standing- 
up and waviu^^ their handkerchiefs.) 
Nothing could be bo unseemly after 



count Melville i Lord John Camph«U ; Visrnunt StormDnt,, (Vf. P.; Lord John 
I S<ott, JM.F^; Lord Forhes; Rev. Dr» M*Leod ; Principal M'Farlanej Mr. Jo»eph 
" ?vn\\ Sir G^oT^Q Cl«rk. M.P. ; Sir H. l\ CimiplH-ll, Bart. M.R; Sir C, Lamb, 
gjr A. rampbell. Bail.; Sir W. Rnp* Bart, x\LF. ; Sir A, Edmofielone, 
Wm. Forheft, Esq, M. P. ; Sir J. M'Keoiie, Bart.; Sir CharleK Hattingt, 
IIoQ. ibr Master of the KoUe, &c. &c. 



134 



Sir Robert Peel 



[Feb, 



the reception whicli I have met with 
— nothing" coirttl be so unseemly as to 
Bjy oue word of disr* spfct in regiird 
to those who diiftiT tVinjj me in reli- 
gious opinions. No , I will say with 
rtspect it> dissent in tliis country tSat 
I tiiink we owe to it u groat obligution 
for the efForrii it Ujt^ nudtr in the com- 
oion cuuse of ^prLsttirnj;; gound doc* 
tTinea. But it i.« Ci>nsi!*ti^nt wilh that 
resjiect iind witli that olilt-^aLton ti» de- 
ctare» ihsit in my opinion mare futile 
arg^ninrnta than thor*^ by which whiit 
is ciilltid the voluntary system arc 
fiuppouud* wt:rt: nt.'ver presented for 
the constdi' ration of mfn ioti^rei^ti'd in 
I lit; willare of their brethren. 1 do 
feet and 1 LruM itiat you ti-el the same, 
thur it IS right ih^t tlie slate should pay 
bom.i2e 10 Chrij-tianiiy in every way 
that it is possible for it to do so. ' U it 
Hot dear that the demand for religiowa 
instruction shall not only be in the 
direct ratio ot iu of Cf^ssity^ bat absii- 
lutely niadt* on thr inverse ratio that 
V,Q»ii who stand most in need of reli- 
gi(njs iiiatmction arr not the first bat 
ine lust who villi make a voluntaxy 
effort to gel it. 1 say that it is ri;;ht 
that the minister who ifl to speak to 
the peuph- — who is to rebnke indif- 
ference — wJKj is to try to conciliate 
them towards reliirious te^ltntjs — who 
is to be censor over [iresnmpiyon< vice 
^—should be inflependenlly supported, 
1 sav that man du^'hi not to deppiid 
on the precations henevolence of those 
whom it is hip busines,* to admonifth 
and rehnke. i inf»jr from this derlara- 
tion ol your ferlinfrs on that ]>oint 
your mind ta niailc up,- the ijnestion is 
not whrther v>tt are to form de novo a 
new eeitahlisihmeiit — the ijuesrion i^^^ 
will Vffu iidio-re to that whicii yon find 
Pisiablidjf'd Ijy the law, and gyiraiiteed 
to yinj by the mf>st snlenin n,itioual 
com/art. Then a^'-ain I av^w lo ytiu, 
iretitlemen, I mean lo support in its 
full integrity the authorily of the 
House of Lofds, as an efl«ontial and 
indi^petiE^abte eonHition of the mixed 
firm of j:ovt"rinn<*nt imder which yon 
litfe, and (i* essential to the inniiite- 
nunee of the Briti-ih et^nstitiition ; and 
I m'*au to consider every plausiijle 
pr-jposition that may he niade^ nivt di- 
rectly u^Sfiiliuij lb It integrity a** having 
ior it^ i*lyert et>vertly to undernnne it. 
1 mean ti» i-onsider those propo^itionsi, 
not in their abstract isolated nver^ls 
lint t't ron^ider the reiidrn^y — the nit - 
n»aie tenrh ncy they buvt! to y^iUertnme 
the Housf of Lords, and to itc^lroy 
the British cuiistiluiion/' 



No man has with comTiJon attention 
read the history of England^ without 
being taught to feel that the British 
Constitution has derived the better 
portion of its free and equable spirit 
from the principles of that Reformntioti 
which are best embodied in the Church 
of England, And every Protestant 
ETiglishnun, who believes in the truths 
without which all churches are a 
mockery, roust feel tliat much of the 
pro!4p nty of England, and the firm 
stabibty of her institutions mtist he 
attributed to the preserving provi- 
dence and >iuardian eiire of that Power 
which him covenanted never to desert 
his churehj "even to ttie end.** Thi* 
i* the Hrst principle and the toueh- 
stone of politica! creeds — ^the irmin 
bulwark ol the state — and the main 
point of attack to iti enemies, for with 
it all coraes to the ground. The 
second topic is not much le3< mouien- 
toiis, for in the aristocraey of England 
resides the heart and life-blood of the 
Canstitntion ifi-elf. The balancinif 
centre between all its extreme actions, 
through which all the conduits of in- 
fluence and suhjcetion run, and where 
all encroaehmeuts find a natiinil pre- 
ventive : a counterbahtncing spirit sig- 
nalized alike in the field of Rnnnimede, 
or in the resistance to the modern spo- 
h.itnr — ^warding off the enerorichmenta 
of the tyrant John, or the assaults oUhe 
demigngue O'Connoll — assailed alike 
by tyrants in the days when king? 
aimed at une mstitutjtmal power, or 
by rabble parliaments, when jjopular 
insurrection menaced the crown. We 
should apolosrixe for this coniuuniplace, 
but uohappih it U not now a mere 
flourish of dcelamation — it mu't liecome 
a portion of the litany of Conservatisiii, 
and ihouLrh we have cast it oif in the 
schools, it must henceforth be recited 
in the senate. *' The hour is arrived," 
observed our leader, ** wSien if tbe*e 
are our feelings, we nrtist he prepared 
to act on ihem.^ And again — 

*' If your sense of danger is that 
wliich I apprehend it is fioni y«uir ac- 
clamations, aid if your scutiment 
wilh me is that which 1 ubo calctdate 
tijion, t'l'-n I siy that, having tht*§e 
privdetfc^s, and refuninx to exprt ihemi 
you will be in the "lituation of the man 
wito, in the face of ihe common enemy, 
having a sword, refused lo draw it,'* 

We 'tliall add ti these strong cx- 
pre-isifUTs, an 4 hi r sentence or two, 
similarly e in boi lying what wc deem a 
jn>i sf use of tlie emergency of ihit 
i«aifut li^r. 



1837 J 



Sir Roheri PeeL 



135 



**\ Bee that ttie time ii come for us 
to stand Cor ward in the exercise of our 
privileges ; for I have reail speeches of 
laie, ddivcrod l*y ihuae svhose special 
duty I should have ihought it to be to 
defend thi* British Cutistitiiliun in all 
Its iutKyrky» but which speeches make 
me uijwilliu^ to Iruat it^ defence to 
their ofliciaT exertions. 1 have read 
ipeechos delivered by ^rcut legful au- 
InoritieA, irum which 1 find thut they 
have Dot yet made mi their ndnd about 
the reform of the House of Lords. I 
am iorry for it. They fear the time 
for reform iu thiit House has come, but 
they have not seen the plan that h 
quite according to their wishes* They 
lire weoried out with the rausackiug of 
the pJgeon*hoU9, tn which are do 
posited the plans tor the rerf>rm uf the 
House of Lords ; every objection is> 
that they have not yet hud the good 
luck to drav out the ri^bt one, Ou 
that miserable trifling let them fpare 
themselves the tiuie and the trouble — 
let them take the first that comes in 
their M'ay, whether in the place of the 
Hou«e of Lords there shiill be a Coun- 
cil of Ancients ol" five hundreil, or a 
new body elected by the Peers, or by 
the heads of families — or whether the 
Peers shall have a suspensive veto ; 
take one or <»ther of all their pluns, 
and the effect is the same. Why, do 
you believe you can uproot the oitk of 
the forrst that has seen a thousand 
georr Htiuns ? — do you thiuk you ran uii- 
foot that Ui^ible production with the 
acbii^vement^ uf thuu»ai»ds of illui^tnous 
deeds suspended from its bryoehes — . 
* Exurius veteres populi sacratas ijiie 
gestanii Dona'^ — do yon think you can 
uproot it, dig a treiu-h around it, and 
sever the thou«%and niiuute fibres aud 
ramifications^ the growth of centuries, 
that have incorporated it with the 
mass around it — do you think by the 
aid of pnllies and n^achinery, by uU 
that ingenuity can devise^ — do you 
think you can transplant it, and bid it 
abide the fury of the storm ? No, the 
fim g-u$h of popular pkis^ion that should 
sweep the land would bring it to the 
^ouod, and wUli all the coittrivances 
of artificial machinery which had been 
used to sunport it ; and niiser>ible 
would be the consolation we should 
have that the advisers of that ma- 
rfiinery, and the arcliitects of that 
ruinous fabric^ woidd probably be the 
lir«t to be overwhi^hncd nnder it,"* 

To this we are tempted to add ano- 
ther extfjct, which but continues the 
ch/ru of these leadin*^^ thou^dits. 



And — •* w^hen f^^r such arg^uments as 
these you shiill haveaboli shed the House 
of Lords, how Imu^j: do you think the 
privilege of bcrcdiisiry monurehy will 
leniidn ? I will It 11 you^'ust so \mi^ 
as the preroguiivt^ of monarchy can be 
made a useful insiritnK^nt in the bands 
of the democracy that is to be trium- 
phant. The peer«» it is said, are irre- 
sponsible. I hoard timf before, I 
replied, that certainly ilie Peers wer© 
not responi^ible in the s^ use in whick 
the Commons \i ere responsible ; but 
that I did think that in ineir re-ponsi- 
bility to God 4 to their own eon science, 
and to enlightc'ticd jiublie ofMnion, 
the public had a guarantee for the 
faithful per Form J nee of their duties. 
But whut I said in the place in which 
I said it, met with a dit!rrt nt reception 
from what it meets with htTc. Now, 
if it is a vital objection to the House 
of Peers, that it is not re^pousible to 
the whule mass of the [at[iulation, let 
me ask whiiher there are any other 
bodies of men who are not in the same 
sense irresponsible also. The House 
of Commons are rcspuusible to their 
constituents^ — the ministry are respon- 
sibb.' in a different sense from the 
House ivf Commons ; but \r.i me ask 
you to whom is the constituent body 
responsible 'i You have se Iccttd h 
certiiin body, an<l quaiified that body 
for the exercise of a great power, [ 
say not a word on that subject^ us find- 
ing fault with the bestowing of that 
power I state only the fact, that you 
have been investii»g some 3 or 4/K)0 
men of the whole classes of your 
society, with great political privileges ; 
and to wlioni are they responsible ? 
They are not j^eh cted for any peculiar 
qualification. You can administer no 
lest by which the fitness of a man to 
exercise the frjinchise can be correctly 
deteroiint^d. Hi-i right of frjiorbise 
depends partly on hereditary privilege, 
and partly on the possession of pro- 
perty ; but what security buve you (or 
the laithful discftarge ot this truat, but 
that security which we have that the 
peers will Faithfully discharge! their 
duty, namely, their responsibility to 
God, to thHr own consciences, and to 
an enlightened pul>lic opinton/* 

Sir Robert, Irom these general pro- 
positions, goes to vindicate the peers 
against some 9|>ccial charges. He 
replies to the charge <d' having resiiited 
improvement, by the unani^werable 
reference to the charges already made 
with their indispensable concurrence, 
and by this cutting ret art a^ainat the 



lae 



Sir Robei'i Peal 



inconsistent assailants — ^that they justi- 
fied tbe distrust of the Lords by their 
criuiinalians of esich otlier, 

" But if you will remember tlieir 
characters, as given l>y each other, you 
will hardly bJame the House of 
bonis. Tbey were called upon to 
make immeilinte and implicit submis- 
iion. Why, if the one party de- 
iicribe the other as base and bloody, 
I and the otht^r purty, i»i an intprcha^^e 
VoF compliment, s^ay that tbeir pre- 
[•ent allies were tbe foraenters of sedi- 
tion in Ireland for interested pnrjjoses; 
if the King told the House of Lords 
Lin my hearing-, that attempts were 
'made to cjtcite the people of Ireland, 
I and that the pjaetiees to which he had 
1 ilUided had engendered destructive 
' animosities, and a spirit of insubordi- 




is the real uniform natural working of 
democracy. A species of slavery in 
which every individual is oppressed by 
tbe accuHiulated tyranny of a whole 
nation. Meason might arrive at these 
fiicts in the form of necessary inference • 
from human naiure* and the common 
principles of social action. But here 
It is csteniplified in the most successfid 
of the modern republics* In Americano 
man has a will of his own. Every one 
is subject to a po^ulttr inquisitioti 
into all his thoughts, as manift»stcd hj 
the circumstantiiil evidence of all his 
words and actions. He may, as one of 
the muiiihtdet break into his nrigh* 
hour's house, and tear him forth to 
atone by death for the colour of a 
cravat, that does not please the nice 
humour of the nianv*headed monster j 



nation— can you blame ihe House of but he Is at the same time not the leis 
Lords if, [paying tho^e parties the coirt- a slave to the tender mercies of the 
pliment of believing their testimony, same multitude, in whose persons the 



' Ihcy refuse to repose in them unbounded 
confidence.** 

Another extract from the same por- 
tion of Sir Robert*s address, we make 
for its bearing on a special question. 

** They did refuse to consent to the 
appropriation of a ptirt of the revenue 
of tbe Irish church. 1 made no account 
of tbe sum ; not that that was unim- 
portant. The objection was not one 
of detail^ — ^it wiis one of principle. 
They felt that by con-ienfing to the 
appropriation clausc% a principle would 
be introduced which wtjuld be fatal to 
the existing ej^tablishinents. And can 
you doubt, that if the Lords had been 
acquainted with the avowals, which 
from the newspapers you wrll have 
perceived are now made^avnwals of 
an intention to require the dcstructitm 
of all esiablishments, as unjust t^» tho^e 
who dissent— can you suppose that the 
House of Lor<is would have udvanced 
one step towurds conciliation, if they 
Jiafl taken the instalment of one-sixth V" 
The next topic on which Sir Robert 
enters at great, but not too great length, 
is one that has latterly been pressing 
itself strongly on evuty one w!io can 
enlarge his views to the comprehensinn 
of political precedent ; tbe example of 
other countries. America supplies a 
singularly appropriate example. The 
subject has been seasonably brought 
forward by M. ile TiHpievith% a distin- 
guished Frenehonin, a disinterested 
witness, whose book should bt- in the 
hands of every one wiio protesgos to 
form opinions on the great uuestions of 
the aire. The important tart which 
this work sets in tbe clearest light. 



opposite extremes of licentiousness and 
slavery seem thus hap pity "met toge- 
cher," like the antithesis to mercy and 
truth. The examjde is too important 
to pass without that reference to ntltho- 
rity which Sir Kobert bus thought 
prttper to seleet, 

^ I am init acquainted,** writes I^e 
Tncqueville, ** with any country in 
which there is bo little true indepen- 
dence of minti, and so little freedom of 
disciiHsion as in America. The autho- 
rity of the king is purely physical ; it 
controls the action of the subject with- 
out sulnluing hi* private will ; but the 
majority in America is invested with a 
power which is physical and moral at 
the same time ; it acts upon the will as 
well ti«i upoti tlie actions of men« and 
represses not only all contest, but all 
cfuitroversy." Again — " In America 
the miijority draws a formidable circle 
round the exercise of thought- Wiihin 
its limits an author is iit liberty to 
write whiit he pleases ; but woe to 
him thtit diires to pass them.** Here 
the right hon, g-entlemun paused, and 
then (ibst'Tved with great emphasi»^ 
♦• And surrly, gentlemen, the man who 
is thus obliired to truckle to a majority 
ceases even to entertain the common 
rights of a free citizen." Sir Rcihert 
sums tip a series of reniark!9 by this 
comprf'hrnsive expression i *' If no great 
writers have as yet ajiprared in Ame- 
rica the reason is clear ; bterarv 
genius Ciinnot exist without fieedom of 
opinion, ami freedom of opinion does 
not exist in America.** 

Additional extmcts from JefTerioD 
and Mttdison» are brought forward to 



I 

I 
I 

I 



I 



I 



r 



1837.] 



Sh' Hoberi Peel 



137 



^ 4)fli 



sbcw their opinions to be gybstttntially 
the same as ihime just cited, pmving 
strongly that these eminent stutesmeo, 
who were thoroughly acquainted with 
the working^ and machinery of the 
American slates, apprehended national 
ruin und subversion from the pre&dure 
of popular despotism* 

Aiuerica is in a state of transUhn^ 
which mny require centuries for its 
completion. Her unpeopled forests 
are to be reduced within the province 
of huiniin occupation, and the farm of 
b4?r empire must have attained matu- 
rity before the result of these v\\h 
can be fully seeti. The stream of colo- 
nization is yet in full vi^^our — the flame 
4)f living power is raised to its intensest 
Ion by the perpetual rush of gain, 
J nisi t ion, iriiffie, and territorial occu* 
pHtion — nothing can •^tand mW ; and 
the restless and humor so me luultitude 
are pres^sed forward by a \^'ave of pro- 
gress which allows no ]>an«ie lor the 
aecumubtion of rev<i|utionary purpose, 
7^hc vu«t call for labour* the teeming 
market for fcipecul»tion, affords an ab- 
f^orbiiig medium for restlessness, cupi- 
dity, and ambition ; the mob is loo 
bn<iy and keen fur the idle excitrment 
uf the vulgar demagog- ue. Thet^e* how- 
cvt!r,are but the growing powers of ado- 
lescence which countcrbabiice disease. 
A hundred years must at le^t elapse 
before America, even without the 
frightful conditions cited by Sir Robert 
Peel, mitcht be called an example of a 
successful rep^djlie* Before that time 
comes, we wish her a better fate than 
to be a historical example of repub- 
lican ism > 

A still more fearful and familiar 
exam|de is found nearer home — France, 
the mother of European revolutionary 
opinions and impulses, that, 

" Wbni Ihey lirt, 
** Into th« wcanb tbat tmod them Ihey return. ** 

Sir Kiiheri make? a strong appeal to 
the well' known and sirikuig contrast 
betW'^cn the hig^h and lofty impulses of 
fmtriotism and philnnthropy thai gave 
ti geiierul impulse to that stormy movc' 
meal, und the directly *>ppa5irt; charac- 
ter* of the re-^uli to wliiLh it led. 

** Why,*' Mays M. Guizot, " folly took 
ihe nau'»e of reason^ tyranny that of 
libert)', the scaffold reeked in the name 
c»f humanity, ami barbamm held over 
civilization a frsiival wlucn might more 
projferly be <lenonnnuted her funeral 
o*we«|uie8/* Now, are you sure that 
in ease a democratic assembly, under 
the name of the House of Lords, 
should be created by men who exercise 

leir privileges in socrcsy — ^by men 



who are taui^'lit lo call out foronc man 
at the huntings, and to put a vole in 
the bul!otiug-box for unother — dont 
you think that the same results which 
followed in France would follow here, 
under the new goverumciit f Then 
would come re-action, then pmscrip- 
tioUi then would creep forth the mcu 
not yet heard of. Don't believe that 
the bloody miscreants of the French 
revolntion, the Robt-spicrres, the Dun- 
tons, the Wdrats, the Talliens, nnd 
others, were liauM iiatttrd', enguidered 
in France alone. Tiny were the crea- 
tures of eireuinstjiutes priHlutod by 
tliu conflicts of parly passions, and 
arising from the comt>t bel^ixt tiie 
domocratic spirit, and lli*" prescriptive 
authority of old as-sottiuiious. If you 
consent to do ttie same things the sanic 
results will hdlow/* 

With all thtit we huve from time to 
time read on this sulijict, there is *me 
thought that we have often receded on 
with surfirlse, that this real, necessary 
working of revolutionary causes do^B 
not appear lo liavc presented itself to 
the leaders of popular impulst^. The 
cc^onomist, who constructs piiper pro- 
jects ill bis closet, and the orator who 
stirs up wild passions in the Ibrurn, 
seem as if it never entered their minds, 
that revoluiion, as it passes from stage 
to stage, inusi needs be successively 
conducted by minds of a di tie rent order 
fnjm theirs. The soldier mu-t succeed 
the projector or the talker ; and if 
unhappily the soldier does not succeed 
iu controlling with an armed hand the 
accelerated progress of national frenzy, 
a less ordered stage of viol cure must 
succeed, in which the most desperate 
and most abandoned must b(.' foremost. 
These are natund workings, not prece- 
dents fnuQ the caleudar. The strong 
of blind nnd relentless of pur^mse — the 
fiery excitement of all the rutban pas- 
sions, which are ever r* ady for occa- 
sion i these are not tatent vivincnti. 
Not a county in England or a parish 
in Ireland that does not boil over with 
them* The hands thpl set tire to a 
pcasiint*s cabin, for being refraetorv to 
the cause of sedition, would perlorm 
the same patriotic act for Darrynane, 
The murderers of Carrieks'hoek, the 
nssas^iiirf of the Ir'sh clergy, uill not 
withhold iheir worthy reward, from the 
loud-tougued oracle of revolution ; 
when some more ihorough-paeed re^ 
former, some heart as base and bloodier 
bond, leLids them on. 

Tlie Right Hon. Baronet takes occa- 
sion to couiment on an arguiueot of 
Loid John Huiiiieirs, iu which he iictjv 



1S8 



Sir Robert PeeL 



[Feb. 



Hpuvouriiicr to infer the scrurity of 
Bntish liberty, fTom the sploinlid pro- 
gress of wealth and kuowle*lge. These 
ttHvnntapes, Sir Hr>bert aiHrrna, are (be 
fruits o!' our civil inijlitiitiiijjs, and ihe 
strnttg^fst RrvriiiHpnt ngiiiii^t chnnging 
tbein. Surely it is impo^silile for any 
OIK- tt> rcflpct titi the history of natioiis, 
without seeing a truth which Boats on 
the surface : there can be no other 
Ciiuse of national i>ruiiperity, but the 
form of p^overiunent, umi the souinl- 
iieiisofLhe iiatituiiil injtiitutiuua. Dif- 
frrent furms may biirmonize wiih 
cliiiKite,terntoriut eoutiguity aiui varied 
eomujercittl advantages and poliliccd 
reliitiuns : or the atci^e of na^innal 
progress, or the state ofsocipty in re- 
mole ems, may furnish inoilifieations of 
the principle of national |>iility. Bni 
itiihin all the goad antl evil events, the 
greatness or defires^iun of everv people 
tliat has Irfi a hbtorjt mij-bt uitord 
Lord John Russell a flafer moral, iliaii 
he seems to huve drawn from his read- 
inM:^ lint there h a shalb>w ^coru in 
the phihisnpby of the day, that treats 
all old familiar truths vvlnilher sucred 
or profane, with the B;ime measure of 
f slii^ht, founded on ilie same old cj,usf^s* 
Speenlalion, lov^ of rhnnife, vaidl'yt 
presumption, anilthn amaziny- ignorance 
of iruth^ ih()t results from the adoption 
of a few fullaeies. 

We have endeavoured to eitraci in 
his own plaiti nneqnivucal lanernairep 
the important anuonutenn nts of prin- 
ciple coolained in this vdlu.dde docn» 
tnent, for *nrh It niav be ajipropriately 
, called. They cwn be biiedy ^ummetl. 
I The 3tfiet preservation of the form and 
j|>rinri|>lc^ of the British constitution^ 
lcon?*istintr of Ritijr. Lord^i^ and C'om- 
with all the preroj^ativea, pri- 
h and riiihts, ]»UibIic and pri- 
e, in which tbiir iide^rity ennfi;«ts. 
[The strict preservation of th^ national 
Prote>tarit chnrches of En^dand, \re- 
latnl, and Scotland, in their ri^^hts, pos- 
lessirniH, and fnnctiotid ; ha they have 
[been severally ri"eog:nized by the laws 
[«f England. The jfenerul pledg^e to 
r^ard nil our ancient iik>ititntioi]S 
i(rain*t encroaeiitneni in spirit or suh- 
{jtance. These jdedt'-es are »itll further 
tftrenjrthened, if |)0*^ihle, by the pro- 
linise of a jealous watchfulness a^rainst 
Jieeminja: sli|rht antl c«|ui vocal a;rgre<8ion 
iirhieh may have an injurious lendeney. 
[lu addition to these, thf re are partieit- 
lar pledges which, thon«rh they fall 
under the above heads, are yet more in 
tcrestingr for their application to the 
[ einerjreuciea of the season. Of this 
Nmlure is the strong citation \f hich wc 



have ^1 ven on the subject of the Lords 
Such too is the opinion which the 
honourable Baronet has eipressed on 
the appropriation claurie. 

The honourable iKiranet concluded a 
speech, nnrivulled in these latter diA\% 
for force, perRpit oily, and standard 
classiciil bpfiuty of style, by expres^n^ 
l\h confidence in the sound vitality ^ 
our constitution- This passage for ora- 
torical splendour, and lor the powcTful 
comptictness with which tt embodies a 
principle, is not unw(»rthy of Burke : 

** ( nr^ver despiindcd when fig^hting 
the battle of the cnu^titution* I ktif^w 
the time was eomintj when, after the 
first iutoxicition, the natural accom- 
paninieut of ini^'^hty chaug^es — the an- 
cient hearts of Ku-lmd and Scotland 
would rally ronud our institutions. If 
I did not d(*spoud then, with what 
feelin^-s of couHilence shall I return 
now and take my part in defendmg 
those institutions in my place in par- 
liament, Those vibrations that ae- 
companied the g'reat ehauires that have 
taken [dace, an- beginning' quietly to 
seMle down. The induence, the dia- 
turbir»g influence, of foreign events, has 
grtidually Icf^fiened ; thr drizzling illu- 
sions of '* three jfrlorions day*.** begiii 
to depart troin tjs. The convictiotis, 
feelin>r?, and jiffcctions which were im- 
thered pnce aronnd the Briti-h consti- 
tution, arefrravitatiiiir towards tiieir old 
centre : the respect for pro[»erty, the 
love of rational tVeedom, the veneration 
for hmg established and prescnptive 
rights are all retuminu% Gentlemen, 
from these waKs a i^pirit ^hall go forth 
that will survive when this edifice is 
but like an unsub^iiintial pageant, faded; 
it shall <iurvive, unitinijr us by the re- 
membrance of this day — spreading its 
conta^rious influence into every part of 
the empire — ^ainimaiinsj the desponding 
— cnconratrinsr the weak ; it shall go 
forth, exnUiiiL'ly, but not abusing its 
strength ; it shall go forth reinembering 
in the days of its prosperity, the vows 
tt made, and the pledges it gave — it 
shall go forth, uniting the dispositiufi 
to preserve institutions, and to correct 
grievances — -it shidl go forth, uniting 
the disposition to improve with a re- 
solution to maintain. And defended 
by that spirit, an unbought flefenee, 
bpyoiid *Mhe ehea}» dele nee of na- 
tions," our in^htutionH shall finrvi**e ; 
sustained by that spirit, the proud edi- 
fice of the BHti«^h monarchy i^hall stand, 
resting upon tho*e coeval powers its 
own doubled strength — the power of 
protecting the rich from thespoMations 
of the poor, aad the poor from theo^ 



I 



1837.] 



Sir Raberi PecL 



jiressiun of the rirh. No tawdry pm* 
Ultitn of revolution (said Sir Rnhert^ 
poifilitt;: to the emhlditiHtlc device u\nm 
tlie Wi»U) sliiill ever fluuTit over (he 
ruins of the British consututlotii but the 
meteor fl^^ of England — 

♦* Th*t ever bnivod the battW jukI the t>ree«e," 

shall s$till float over the heads of its 
fitiii defeoHers; and th^t faith — ihitt 
ClirUttim fiiith — for whose hujiport our 
imtiotMl estj»^iHshnienrs are itrlendcfl^ 
»hdll, with tho-e esttifjIlBhmnuts. oun- 
tiinie t« exi^'tr as thev do eiisi, in tlsr-ir 
three bra!ichi»s iti the united kingdom ; 
lho«e estahhsh rat' Ills whieh tlie Klnsf 
liii» «woiii to protf'ct, and whirh llie 
tniiiouut honour is bound to uiuintuin. 
Thev shall survive, aoJ our reliuion, of 
nhieh our free inMitntions are the off- 
»piiii^, sbull survive. And 1 t"E>re-*ee, 
getitlernent stpriuirlii:yr "p fro in ilie dif- 
fusion of R'uind k[ioiivh'd;,'e» oew sonrtes 
of il relish, uud. tried thoy^^h the in- 
stilutioiiH of the land may he by the 
«torii]« iif adversity, they will only he- 
Come more pciritied by the trial, and be 
tiHHfd deeper in the convieiiun?, feel- 
ing^s And affectioiii of a patriotic 
pi*0|>le.* 

Ab«Mit the recejaion of this address, 
liUle iired be saiil. It whs wurttiy of 
the ntiio a?id the a-semlily. So great 
indeed wa^ the exeitetiient, thiit a lon^ 
time p;ts?ed be lure it was subdued for 
the toa'ittiithiit wer* t<» fullovv. 

The frjokni s?t and unreserved 9eda* 
ndous of Sir Robert Peers addrest*, 
InH 11^ to form a ifrateJ'al hope, that the 
time U*T speaking ont l^ arrived : that 
the great reactiim of English good 
loynUy and piety^ approaches the point 
of nati'Uiiil unity aod consent ; and thai 
the high consf^rvative leaders, will be 
ready to lay aside all minor clilferences 
Boriif themselves, that raiiy ioterfere 
ilh the ititere>4ts of the cause, lo whieh 
ley shifulil be attaehed. Hani in- 
deed, will it be, when the base and 
mcreeiiary >'yeophants of the mob, have 
so looiT cnojbined tvi mature their exe- 
crable schemes ; if the bi^jh, the snutid- 
principled, and the loyal, should beiieu- 
traiized by slisi^ht dilferenee?. Rot this 
»c ediinot now anticrpate. The times 
have been fertile iu events* but in none 
more than in ine numerous eitpoftures, 
which have been made by the eollisiotrs 
of the enemies of Entf!aod» May we 
here apply the ada^e, which promises 
from toch a si:^o, I hat honest nieu mny 
** come liy their own." 

Thi<r, however, must be the true an! 
man 'yc/nstr action of every sip, which 



rea^ 

If 



1!^ rheering to the conservative. It i^ a 
nn^ive for eierrioo. All puWic de- 
moit¥tr.iriofts, short of thiii, are lao^h- 
uble to nur eneui'e^j and will be a re- 
proMch to Kotrlandjnihat hi:4tory which 
shall do jn^lice to t'<c men and parlies 
of this eriliral day. 

Oilier f^peake rs exjirr. sed their ^en- 
timents wiih ability and effect. We 
can n iw only notice the spe''ch of Mr. 
E, Tknnknt* who m entitled to the 
distinetioo, as havinjLr on this otn^asion 
answered to the health of the con- 
servatives of Ireland. For these, Mr. 
Tenn^nt claimed the distinetion of 
b^vjo^ bi'en placed in more iryini^ 
emerueoeie:*. and contended with diffi- 
cuiti' s and d.oi^'^er^ more formldMbleand 
apfuillsng^. The Scotch ami EoLclish 
conservatives have known pasty war- 
fare in it3 more suhened aspect — 
SLich as it has been in the most ci> 
vilized country in Kurope, where the 
knowledge of Chrisiiainty throws a 
hoinaniziog- control on the monies of 
the peuple» and an inborn and hi rcdi- 
tary, con>tTtutional feeling of nsjiect 
for l^ws ami ins^titutLoos^Vir lite [i»d 
properly ; teotJs to soften and nmde- 
rate the ontbn ak^ of the lowest lank. 
The eontentitui has been, one of words 
or arguments and chiefly coodoeted 
by fr**ntlciiien, tJi at leant of educated 
persons. Njw as the hon. member 
nus ^ell insisted, the slnt^gle of the 
Irish ctmservalive, was chk'By with 
persons^, as low in morals, and as d^^void 
of the coni^trahiinir prioeiples of cul- 
tivated humanity, a- rni(.ht easily be 
discovered from ** India to Peni,*" f"r as 
far north as itu- lovur;* of a^'ltatlon can 
tind time to seek. Oar strife has been, 
amidst the very central uproar und 
fnry of Irish barbariBm— amidst hatred 
— inflamed fanaticism — inveterate illii- 
sioi s and prtjudicea, taught by art- 
ful impostUK , tind (ottered by the low- 
est i;^norunce, MurdcTs and confla* 
fjrations, havt' left their sign (vr tlieir 
report on every towtilaud : and no 
man not protected by position, can lift 
his hand, or raise his voice, or even be 
silent, unless as the watchword of con- 
sjnraey directs, U to this we add, 
that in Indand, tlie liwpuNe of the 
chaser vative reaction commenced* we 
tuke no merit to onrselvcs. The %lit 
be^an anion^ n«f — it was no deep-sight- 
ed political wisdom — ^no love t^f aping 
our torbulent opponents, or rivitlliug 
them niorjtoiied display. Theshouu 
of the Association, raoK in our ears — 
I he rabid eyts of a bloody-handed niob, 
trained in lies, and lying marims'^ 



140 



Sir Hubert Pet^l* 



scowled an out f>aths. We began the 
struggle, wit!) a firiuness i licit (leservci) 
success, tinfl which by the blessing of 
i\n overrijling Frovidt;nre, has not been 
altogether vain. Enlightened Etiglcmd, 
heard and responded nobly from the 
depths of her sanctuary of constiiu* 
tional freedom. Aiifl wcJl inrleed «he 
might, for it recjuired no wizard voice, 
to tell her that thf danger wa*? her own. 
The agitator and the reforintr hrld 
concert for her destrnetion : Irish pa- 
pery was l>ut the pretence : the feelde*t 
bastion was selected for the fdtiil lireaeh. 
And vvhilu the Brili!*ii prirliciyif nt, 
yawned over the tedtuio t>f Iri?ah ques- 
tions* it did not for a little uhile, iin- 
der^tantl tlie fatal byplay^ that Wits to 
ileeide a inii:htier rcvohiiion, than th;it 
which preeipjtrtted the woniout mo- 
narehy of France to the erfith. 

VV^_- are entering on the very crisis 
of this long.prcprtrt d cooflict : anfl it 
is desirable lo enlist into our raukH, all 
the sound-minded of every clas?'. For 
a time* the strife of coinplieatcd (nics- 
lioiis of detail, which demandf i| much 
tnuned nttention, to iracc their pub- 
lic hearing N ni:iy have kupt ninny in the 
dark, as to our positiiJii. But as the 
moment of a sterner trial eoiiN^s on, 
both sides have been llii)L"^ing aside the 
musks lind clotiks of their porpiises^ 
and seixing with a directer view, those 
griiat ultimate questirms* which iire at 
ihe fearful issue. Questions, explietible 
to the simplest peaiiaiit of Eng!tinil« or 
the poorest Irish Protesiaot, nre an- 
nounced hy tht? leader of the conserva- 
tives, and echoed nearly at the same 
moment from town to town, through 
the three countrirs, Oxford, the ohl 
heredilarv temple of cla^^sicul learning ; 
West Rent, Hirmingham, Dublin, 
Londonderry, all, consent uneoTisfy, 
are dilivering the same ]dain troths. 
The Prolf stwnt church i* assiiled, not 
hy the reformer, but hy the marked sind 
avowed infidel ; the LVirdsare attiicked 
rot by the reformer, hot. by the revolu- 
tionist — the radicid: a foijl or a rrpid)- 
lican. These are the two f::rcat com- 
prehen«iive chargre, which inctude, 
uithiii their details, all the minor 
atrocities, the suffrage, the appropriii- 
tion chnjse,lheeduciition board— ull the 
rapid gradations of rrational dt>wnfall 
It is not a time for the well aflccled, 
the palrifitie, and the loyid to ?tand 
puzzling about the intent or working of 
enactment^; the dififfii once knoun, all 
is understood enough for ^n honest man 
and ti true eoniiervaiive. If the devil 
<iuf»lc6 scripture, it i* for some devilish 



purpose. And this im|»Qrtatit prac- 
tical principle, the ignorance of which 
dt'ludes many, we will endeavour to 
make plain m a few words. Tht re 
never was a political or commercial 
cheat, who did not think it nece»»ary 
to preserve a seeming adherence to 
principles and maxims generdlly ac- 
knowledged. In the wisest laws 
ami most perfect forms of govern- 
lliere must be imperfectiims : so totig 
as this world shall be human, there 
must he nbuses, Novi these will ever be 
alike the objections of the wise and the 
pretexts of the knave: and bow arethny 
to be distinguished? Mnny ways. The 
wise will not sacrifice for any umouiit 
of improvement J the peace and pro*- 
j>erily of his own generation; he will 
follow the course of human lendeneii'S, 
the result of which is pr(*gress. The 
knave will scatter fire over every 
hamlet ami drencli every bearih iu 
bhmd to effect any specious change. 
Agkdn watch the rnen^ track their con- 
sistent progresis to I heir purpose. 
Mark the proiligate politics, the infidel 
o|kinions^ tlie low assircialions of u life. 
Tliou2:h the arch impostor will be dis- 
creet, there vvill be those abuut bitn 
who will speak out for hiin. His pur- 
poses will he known to those who 
read his viri tings or meet his trieiids. 
Hut /^j!//j/— the fact m hieh makes this 
kmnvlcdge important- Any enact- 
ment may work in a hundred vaiions 
ways — ^the halter tlv.it ^ for the knave, 
might be so m»naged a* to hang the 
jndge. A law is hut a portion uf u 
mighty system of operHlions ; and a 
little clause, a sliglit comhinrttioii, a 
tyriuinical C(mstruetion will give it idl 
the pernicious ctFeet that the coii- 
trivcr t»r adininii*tnjtor can cltsire. How 
ju^llv is this fnct illuslraletl by the 
policy that diverted the powers of the 
eonstiloency of liiiii country from the 
hiodhirds to the priests. One w^rd 
more tnuf^t end our notiee of lhe*e 
topies. The use of right feeling Jiud 
Sound priinnple is to govern the acts, 
(hir ctieicrvatism if confined to tlie 
flinner-table, if it is to evaporate amirl 
tiie smoke iind steam of jogs and 
jovinl fneetings, will avuil but lillle. 
It is by actual [(reparation, by the 
rejfistry nf voles, tiiat every Christ i«iii 
and every true hnal conservative iiin»4 
prepare for the conlesil at the hnstii^trs. 
For fJurr the tale of the coiuiiry um?t 
he dteiiied, so far as mortal stren^ih 
can have any etiVet. 

There i^, iu Kyall's portraits of coi*- 
^ervative statesmen, a ptcabtug priiit vf 



I 

I 

I 



18:^7.] 



Sir Jioberl PeeL 



141 



Sir Robert, fnim a portrait, by Sir 
Tiiomas Laurfiire, Mild, cilio. finii, 
ami tlitruified, iiml Htroii^ly exuressivo 
of inmtly coitiidliij sense, finely li^iii- 
pertnl witli ihM pet-uliar kind of dU- 
cenimeiit wliieh belongs to perfect 
good uidle> It gives* of course, a 
more youthful idea^ than suits tlie pre- 
«ciU ag-e of the honourable bart>net. 

The address of which we liave 
given a hurried and iimdequiite uiit- 
line, miJiit, of conrse. ha prinCud in u 
siepurate form. We trtist it will circu- 
late widely- U will he ihe inamijd of 
the senson in the conservative's hand to 
tiiark with clearness and precision our 
objects and unr hopes. It has a re- 
coinmeiidution of another kind which 
ihe ttbsorbiD^ iotcrest of its political 
views prevented us from even noticing'. 
We mean the strong tone of personal 
character which pervades it, and the 
clear and beautifid touches of the 
spirit, the taste and Itoniehred feelings 
of the man. We nainrally desire to 
see those for whom we have been 
taught to feel deep respect in the un- 
drew of their private pursuita, in their 
homeSj in tbeir travcUingft, in their 
studies, in their friendships. And 
there is ever felt, by all who have a 
touch of enthusiasm in their admira- 
Uon of intellect and public worth, an 
earnest desire to gather those distinct 
notions which the events of public life, 
as we see them in the public journ^iK 
can never impart. In the hononrable 
baronets academical address which we 
are sorry to have been forced by ex- 
treme haste to pass, the reader will 
trace the honourable baronet's mind 
through the conrse of atndy that has 
made him what he is. We were 
forcibly reminded in reading it, of the 
picture which his classfellow, Byron» 
gives of him at Harrow. — " There 
were always great hopes of Peel 



among ha all — ma*«lcrs and scholars — 
and he has not disappointed them. 
As a schulur he was always greatly 
my superior ; as an actor and dc- 
ckiincr I was reckoned ut least his 
equal ; a:* a schoolboy, out of school, I 
was always in scrapes, and he never; 
and in school he alwuys knew his 
lesson, 1 rarely." 

Such was tlie steady and bright 
beginning of a career, which, we truat, 
will he mtide illus^trions by the pros- 
perity of the iiigh cause in which we 
arc c < > ui m I tied . The re are, i n th c pol i . 
tieal address* some flashes of a higher 
spirit, tor which the calm sobriety of 
the honourable baronet's speeches has 
nnt prepared na. He describes to an 
auditory, who could appreciiite the ap- 
peal, his own wanderings through the 
subbme wildts ol' the Scottish High- 
lands, In this beautiful diirres^ion, if 
it may bear the name, the heart of t!ie 
poet seems tempered by the deeper 
and more social views of Ibe statemuu s 
mind. And we are let into the secret 
of those loftier and more deepseated 
yearnings, that inward spirit which is 
only seen to the world in outward acts 
or in the dignified calm of paiient en- 
durance. 

Sir Robert Peeh the first statesman 
of his own day, and with the full con- 
fidence of England, has been long 
obliged to take a stand in the platform 
of observation. He has been obliged 
to strive against |»ower and authority 
in high places, and to witness niucri 
that must have wrung his inmost heart. 
But in this position bis conduct has 
been as high and honourable as if the 
conversative King of England (God 
bless him 1) with tiie whole weight of 
his true and loyal subjects were at hts 
side, and the truckling Melbourne ad- 
ministration where they should be 

in the dust beneath his feet. 



142 



Every Man his own Phihsopht^r, — Introditciimi, 



EVERY MAN UlS OWS PHILOSOPHRR. 



** Oh I if H man shuts liioi^elf up for ever 

la bis dul] sturly — if he &eBB the world 

Never, unletis on some chnnce holiday — 
Looks ill it from adistaace throu|rti a tele^^ope — 
How oin he learo lo awbj the mind^ of uien? " — Faustut. 



INTRO DUCTFON, 



Therp are many sposible people who 
iJuMly think that Ut'e h loo short fiir 
. reading: the iiirgre and learned books 
%hich a finv iinconscioiinble persons 
I have Pound leisure to write. The prac- 
I tical pdrt of the world may he said to 
I abhor inpiaphysics. as nature was once 
I fiiipposed tif abhor a vacourn. For its 
I toituciys lot,ar few men have time, and 
^ no woman ptilieofe ; the foniHT huve 
[mostly souiethina^ better to employ 
their thou|;rht5, and the 1 titter eome to 
[ concltjsioos by a shorter method of 
their ovrn. It is indeed no less a 
I cuiious than an edilyin;; si|i-ht, to see 
I the gentle sh odder, or the more por- 
itentous nlixaijon that passes like a 
[ suTomer-eloud across the muscles of 
the nether jaw, with widch a person of 
I this shrewder sl-x is visibly alTeeted, 
[on happening to Uil up by any ehaiite 
I the Ryssia leather bioctiug- which 
I quietly inurps the deep learninjir of 
r Stewart* or the rndgnilo^uent meta- 
J physics of Brown, 
I Now, though we are not unwilling 
to admit that some little portion of 
' this f^isddious reluctanee is Uy be at- 
t tributed to a very reasooahle dislike to 
[the combined eitertions of mind and 
I «iuse!e, which all such ponderous works 
[require, yet there are niueb bt^tter rea- 
Jitma with which it i* iu>t that onr 
I gentle fello^** sUtdents should be coti- 
]vers»tir,in order 'the better to be en- 
tabled to su'itain the su|H"riority of 
I their own aci|uireaiefits. The whole 
dirferenee her ween folly and wisdom 
I Ctinsists ofieoer than any one would 
imagine in tiie ititferent reasnns wltich 
can be s^iven for ihe same con i act. 

Of that ])onderoiis Irarnin^ whiidi 

the wi^er part of the WrHd liaf* ever 

und will ever Icrtve to mofjider amon;r 

> the kindred cobwv*bs oS ihe academic 

ihelf, it may truly li<^ said that it cou> 

duces nothinjj to ihe kuo^vledcre of 

matikiiid. It may offi^ a spceiou* 

ftcope to the unlimited avpiiatioo^ of 

[juvenile inexperienee, in thf no worldly 

[ twilight of c<dlege chambers, und may 

. amuse the strenuous leisure of the pale 

student who pore* over dssse nations 

upon mind, until body has abnost re- 



srjlved itself into a dew ; but never 
yet, has uneof these dreamers elicited 
from his dull researches a single 
practical trutli, or taught any thing in 
iife that can he of any possible use. 
But we miist not oor^dves be meta- 
physical. 

If there is one man morelikHy than 
another tn hise hi> way in the streets 
or come suiaek iieuiiist w himp-j)nst* aiid 
raise inexlinguishulde laiiLbtcr innung- 
cabs and coaches as he somer*eu buck- 
ward and rolls wi^dess into the kennel, 
be assured that he is deep in '* Brown 
on Causation,"* and the Scottish meta- 
physics?. Should you chance unluckily 
to sit for halfan htmr in thesime com- 
pany with some \vise and puzzled j>er- 
sona^e, whu mars the social inomenU 
of scandal and flirtatiun, music and 
Bon«r, tale-tellintj and joke, with nice 
distinctions about Tca;«on» imagination, 
association of ideas, and such like im- 
material enrities^-of the very existence 
of which there is little or no evidence 
in the wakin^r work-day world — de- 
pend upon it that pers(Mi is talking- you 
dead out of ** Home's Essays,** or 
" Lr>cke upon the Hmnan Umlerstjoid- 
iny"/' La*tly, not to he prrdix, »fiould 
you have the luck to be mmle love to 
in lan^naire that sound!» like a intxture 
of hii^di Dutch and low Enjrlish : — Oh» 
beware of thi>so jaws of darkness lest 
thev devour thee — beware ol matrimo- 
ni.4 prolixity, and prose that knuws no 
end till left half told by death. You 
b ive tkllen into the merciless hands of 
a disciple of Kant, wlio does not know 
whdt he is suvijii:. and wants aou to 
couj])rehend what lie means. 

0\* these and all their Inben, one 
common caution must serve — ^close the 
book, fly the man, shuilder at the 
woman. They ran tell you nothiiig^ 
that you do noi know ulready ten limes 
better than thetijM'lvos. That, fur in- 
stance, yon have within your cranium 
more or less of sometidng called mind, 
of which you can make various uses, 
of which they have lirtle or no distinct 
notion. That you can talk, indent 
stories, lecture your husband, describe 
Uic reaturcB of your acrjualntancci and 



I 



I 



1837,] Every Mtm his own Philompher. — Introdfiction, 



n 

^^ bitoti' her character to a hair — l>c wise, 
^^Bnritty, fiinctfial} or foolish, love or hate, 
^^rcnfitemn or a^ I mi re. But all the 
I shrewdness in Glastjow, all the learniug 
I in Oxford, all tlie subtlety of Sor- 
bonne, all the ilark depths of Ger* 
inany» where (ruth lies hldtleii \u a 
wellp inscruiuble to mortiil seiise, could 
not enable yoit to do uiiy oni* of these 
I all-important things one atom better 
\ than your natural gil^s admit of. 
I But here, wc fancy ourself to bear 

sonit; one ask ; is it then to be con- 
dud ed that all philo»onhy iii but a 
iclioij got lip between toe pedant and 
'tlie publisher to impose upon ilie purses 
if niaJiki ud « No s ne h i li i r»g- — th e pu h- 
liahers know bttter and so tlo the pub- 
Ic. No of»e is inij>o-ed upon but the 
lueklees wi^ht who ha^s wa?ited his life 



HS 



sarcasm of Diogenes, the pathos of 
Heraclitus, and the laughter-nioviug 
drollery of Demoeritus, as occsision 
niiiy re<:|mre, we shall then dtvelope 
our stores of accumulated observHti^Hi 
into a well-digested philosophy. This 
wx" promise» shall be as a faithful mirror 
in which the moving world shdl be re- 
flee led, and to which every oue may 
come to take a peep at her own lovely 
face. 

As we are most especially anxious 
to avoid being for mi instaui coo- 
fouuded with that cla*s, whose utter 
absurdity we have so precisely demon- 
strated, we shall take care to be lis 
unlike them as possible in all thmgs. 
And as it has always been the custom 
for these gentlemen to discuses the most 
insigniHcant absurdity* as if it were 



trying to be wiser than the rest of miitter of the most solemn importance 

*' ■ we shallj on ihe coDimry, settle the 

profouiidest 4|u(!stions, and irrefnigably 
establish u\nm immortal foundations, 
the most vital truths, with the most 
apparent unconsciousnessof being more 
deep than our neighbours. We shall 
use o«r wisdom, as Newton is said to 
have used his fluxiouary calculus ; 
having by the deepest reasoning dia- 
covered our conclusious, we shall 
eiEplain them by a simpler method to 
the rest of the world. VVe shall vary 
at every page from tlie sublime to the 
closely bordering limit of the grotesque 
—from the laughuble to the pathetic — 
from the li^ht to the profound ; as the 
fiubjeet may require we shall be poetical- 



he world. Few w ill be found to be- 
Bcve — fewer to read, and fewest to 
buy. The world will inlkllibly write 
liiD down tuv ass— without troubling 
£eir to stand one single instant puz> 
Jing about the matter. 

We are our&clf not quite so uncha- 

titable, having, if it must be conlessed, 

IT hen very young, bceu once betrayed 

ato such readings ; and it excited our 

dmiration to notice how mncb labor 

itid time were so curiouslv wasted in 

earcbing for what every oody knows, 

[or what has no existence — and is at the 

terv highest a grain of wheat in a 

rbusKel of eh a If. We may indeed sum 

||lie whole of our discoveries in these 



age hooks, in the Foet's just aud ad- ly luxnrikint or dryly sententious. One 
[mirable maxim which should be in- tnitig we must seriously promise, that 



cribed in golden letters over the gates 
^of all universities in Europe — 

•' And tlilnkiujur i>"l an idle waste of thought" 

Having discouri^ed thus far, upon ttiis 
unprofitable study, we niuat now, with 
like distinctness, explain that which we 
*|>ropose to isubstituie for it. It is then, 
our opinion, that all such knowledge as 
can be usefntly brought to bear on 
"ife, must be dcrrived from the obser- 



every reader must not expect to find 
our whole meaning always quite ap- 
parent mi the surface — this would 
obviously be inconsistent with having 
rijucb meaning. It must be ever re- 
collected that reality has its depths as 
well as invention Its obscurities. It is 
therefore to be reeommt^nded to our 
more youthful students ; however fri» 
vol us a remark may seem, to trust 
that it means more tha« meets the ear 
Kation of its phenomena. Instead of of iDexperieuce, and patiently to read 



icommenemg, like some well-known 

riuthorities. with the oyster, and elabo- 

pTately tracing from this siio[>le stage of 

lanimal existence, to the uiorc couiplex 

combinations of two-legged uut'eathered 

humanity, we take our stand at once 

I among the visible and audible scenes 

§of hfe ; the street — the lire-side — the 

sembly — aud, liLe the Athenian, 

bring down philosophy from the tenth 

%Yi^ mlo the haunts of men. Unit- 

r Ihe sagacity of Socrates, the shrewd 



on to the end of the next page. If he 
should not find it there, we assure him 
that w hen he is a few* months older, a 
second perusal will change his mind. 
If this will nut do, we must refer him 
to posterity ; which, it is presumed, 
will always appreciate rightly what 
thejprescnt age cannot nnderstand. 

The person who pretends to be 
wiser than the rest of mankind, has no 
b*i5ine*s with the affectation of supe- 
rior modesty. Vet, fitrangc to «ay» the 



lU 



J Sketch. 



[Fub* 



most inordinate pretender!? are those 
who have aifected ibis virtue ihe most* 
We utterly rejci-t tins im| indent pre- 
tenaiori^ — this nolo epkcopari of author- 
ship. We have no notion of dressing 
our piiilo&Ofjhy in the blushing nttire 
of self-convicted folly, mid hang-iiig 
our heads before those we offer to in- 
struct. 

We must, therefore, in concluding 
this iiilrodiiclion, endeavour tu convey 
some distinct notion of our qualifica- 
tions and pi^rsoniil charticter. 

If the reader is a frequentrr of pub- 
lic fdaecij. he has of course often parti- 
cidarly noted a tall, stlight-built, dark- 
looklitg- ^cntleu)aii» with a pale and 
sallow, l>m singularly expressive face — 
of ^hom it mi^^ht he said with truth, 
that being once seen, he cannot easily 
be forgotten. This is oiirself. We 
commonly walk the streets^ having our 
head bent a little forward, and very 
slig^hlly (for we avoid exaggerations! 
inclined towards our right or left 
shoulder, our lip yet quivers with 
the movement of some recent emo- 
tion, or is compressed with the enerjjry 
of tack thought : our eye betrays the 
quick observer. At moments a soiilc, 
indicating shrewd, but nvjt ill-natured 
remark, stands tiptoe on our cheek, or 
plays with unsettled purpose round the 
corners of our mouth : and last, a 
slight triple t'urrow between our brows, 



marks ihat habitual intensity of intel- 
lectual concentration, which must be- 
long to one who looks through and 
through the deeds of men. In a word, 
by tliinking of the *' lean and hungry 
Cassiusj" the reader may do us jusuce 
in many respects* 

Such is the semblance of our out- 
ward man. Our study is the world : 
men and women are our books ; our 
ponderous folios and our light, orna- 
mented octavos — our sermons and 
jeatbooks ; our tragic volumes and gay 
romances, — all written in ibe same old 
universal language, which pedant can- 
not teach, or dull pretender read. 

Ofien have we stood in the market- 
place — and while, to vulgar eye, we 
seemed to be pondering the merits of 
a cauliflower — iti reality read off whole 
chapters of moral truth, such as might 
well astonish the deepest academic 
into the confession of helpless igno- 
rance* Still more frequently are we 
seen in crowded theatre^ or throngrU 
exhibition, observing nature, not art, 
artd intently watching the play of feel- 
ing or thought upon the Bur rounding 
galaxy of bright eyea. Philosophy, as 
Lord Brougham has observed, has its 
plp.i^nrefs as well as its advantages. — 
Ot I his we shall have to exhibit uam- 
berless illustratious in the progress of 
our dL^eourse, 



A SK£T<rH, 



1 saw them round thy pallet keep 

That watch of silent woe, 
When saddest tears for those they weep^ 

Whose tears have ceased to Bow — 
Thy features calmly seemed to tell 
That with the parted, all is well ! 

Ob» it was strange — while all beside 
Stood wrapt in deej> distress — 

To see thy beauty still abide 
In tearless loveliness ; 

'Ttvas an unwonted sight to see 

Thy features speak no sympathy. 

From thy pale temple, calm and high, 
Death's passing pang had flown — 

And the heart's smile we knew thee by. 
Its light of heaven had thrown 

Round thy closed lips, and o'er thee shed 

Tlic calmness of the holy dead. 

J. V. V. 



Canfitstioni nf fftniy Larrrqnew 



\AS 



coNFicssioxs or harry lorrkqler^ 

LMF CKVTklf* IK TUB 4-T« ^KGIMKXT. 

** We lAlk«d of pipe-clny— ^reg-ulation c^ips — 

LonjE^ twenty-fours — short culverius and niortars ; 
Condt>intiM ihu * Hnr«e Guards' for jt sel of raps, 
And cuT«ed our fnte at h^in^ in sucli <]Ufirlera. 
Some tiaioktidi some sighed^ aud eotiie were heard (o more ; 
Som« wi!»hi?d tliemselves fivu fatlioms *iieath the Solway; 
j^nd some did pray — who never prayed he fore ^ 

That they might get the » route' for Cork or Gnhmjf, 

Mitunce Quiits Lament — page ]Q4« 

CHAP. I COJIK, 



It was on a splendid morning' in the 
autumn of the year ISl — , the Howard 
IraDBporl, with four hundred of hi«; 
Majesty *s 4-ih Regt. droppi^d anchor 
ID the beiialiful harbour ot Cove ; tlie 
tea 6 bone uuder the purple light of the 
wmu'f sun with u rich rg«y hue, beauti- 
ful ly ill contrast with the different tiuts 
of the foliage *>f the deep woods al- 
ready tinired with tlie brown of auLumo. 
Spike hiaud lay "slpi'piag upon its 
brosid shadow,*" aud the large ensign 
which crowns the battery was wrapped 
uroiuid the iiajf-staff, there nnt being- 
fvcn air enough to elir it. It was sllll 
*o eiirUv I hat bt*t few persons were 
abroad ; antt as we lea nod over the 
liulwarks, and looked now» for the first 
lime for eight long yeiirs, uptm British 
ground, many an eye lilled, and many 
a heaving breast idd ho^ full of recol- 
lection* that shoit nmniont was, and 
how dtifcrent our feelings from the g-ay 
buoyancy with which we had sailed 
from that same ijarbour for the Peoin- 
flula : many of our best and bravest 
had we left behii<d ns, and more than 
one, native to the land we were ap- 
proachlng had found liis lajst rest in 
the soil of the stranger. It was, theiu 
with a mingled sense of pain and 

fdeastirc, we gazed upon that peaceful 
ittle village, whose white cottages lay 
ilotted along tiie edge of the harbour, 
Tlic moody silence our thoughts had 
shed over us was srion broken : the 
prepiratiohs for disembarking had be- 
ffun, and 1 recoilect well to this hour 
bow, shaking off thr load that op- 
|ire*sed my hrart, I descended the 
gangany, humming poor Wolfe's well- 
kuown song— 

•« Why. KiUliers why 
Shuuld wi* he nuinnclndy. brty» V* 

And to this elasticity of spirits, whether 
the result of my profession, or the gift 
of God — as Dogberry ha* it — I know 
but, 1 owe tiie greater portion of the 
Vuu IX. 



happiness I have enjoyed in a life, whose 
changes and vicissitudes have equalled 
most men's. 

Drawn up in a line along the shore, 
I could scarce refrain from a smile at 
our appearance. Four weeks on board 
a transport wdl certainly not contribute 
much to ihe '* pcrsonel" of atiy unfor- 
tunate therein confiued j but when, in 
addition to this, you Uike into account 
that we had not received new clothes 
for three years— if 1 except caps for 
our greimdiers, originally iitf ended for 
a Scorch regiment, but fi>und to bo all 
too small for the lansr*iieaded genera- 
tion. Mauy a patch of brown and 
grey, variegated the faded scarlet, aud 
scarcely a pair of k»iees in Ihe entire 
regipncnt did n«*t confess tht-ir obliga- 
tions to a blanket. Ikd with nil this, 
we showed a stout wi athcr-bealcn 
front, that, disposed as the pusscr-by 
might feel to a laugli at our ex|}ense, 
very little caution wtnild teach him it 
was fully as safe to indulge it in bis 
skcvc. 

The bells from every stccj de aod tower 
rung gaily out a peul of welcome as we 
marched into '^ihat beuuliful city called 
Cork»" our biind playiny- *'Gijrryow» n'* 
— for we luid been originally raised m 
Ireland, and still amorig our olhcrrs 
maintaincil a fitroug mnjurity from that 
land of puurh. fjriests, und potatoes — 
the tattered drtgolthe regiment proudly 
waving over our fieads, aud not a man 
amonp^'-t us who?.e warm henrl did not 
hot 1 II d 1 1 eh i n d Q V\' at erl o o rn < 'd a I . ^ Vel I — 
well I I mri now — alas that I Bhould jay 
it — 4<jiiic\vliat in the *'sear and yellow;'' 
and I confess, after the eijiericnce of 
?oiiic moments of high, triumphant 
feeling, that 1 never before felt within 
mCp the same animating, spirit-filling 
glow of delight as rose within my 
heart that day, as 1 marched at the 
head of my company down George*s- 
slreet. 

h 



I 



146 



Confemuns of Ilarrt/ Lo)'i'eqttir. 



[Feb. 



We were si>on settled iti barracks; 
and then began a series £>*' entt-rtaiii- 
ments nii the side of the civic ilia:iiilie3 
^ of Cork, whiuh soon led mu!«t of us to 
^believe ttiul we hud only i?scii|jed shot 
and shell tu tall lesa srlorioiisly beneath 
ehiini])ugne and elstret. I do nut be- 
Jlcve there is a eoroiicr in th*^ island 
vho w'udd not have pronounced but 
the one verdict over the reg-jmeiit — 
*• Rilled by the mayor and corj)ora* 
tlonr had we so falliin. 

First of all, ^^e were din«»d by the 

citizens tif Cork — and, lo do ihem 

t justice, a harder driukini^ nei o1' gentle* 

* men no city need bo.ist; then wu were 
'fe,isled by* (he coiponitiou ; then by 

the aheiiirs; then came the muyor 

solns; then an inldresH, vvidi a cotd 

*collatioti* tliat led I'i^lit of us on the 
] sick list fyr a rormi^bt : but the eliniax 
lof all was a grand entertaininnnt t|:iven 
I "In the niansion-hou?e, and lo which 

upwards of two tlionsiand were invited. 

It was a 8|jecies of fiiney bail, be;:in- 
i liing by ii dejentie nt three o'clock in 
itlic allcrnoont mnd ending — I never 
I Vet met the man who could tell when 
I it ended i as for invself, my finale ])ar- 

took a Uule of the advenuirons, and I 

may a^ well relate it. 

After wuUiing for about an hour 

H'ith one of the prettiest girls I ever 
L let eyes upon, and a tender 8<joe*'ze of 
I the hand as I restored her to a most 
I atTuble- looking old la^Lly in a bine tur* 

* ban and a red vclvef gown, who snail ed 
uio6t hemi|:n!y on tne* and called me 
** Metjor^"* I retired lo recruit for a 
new aitack* to a small tiible, where 
three of ourst were quaffing^ "^ panvhv a ia 
liamuUivr with a crowd of Corka^^mns 

I iibfuit them raj^eriy inquiring^ iiPter 
^t<nn»* hemes of their own city, whose 

/dteds of artns they were snrpnsied did 

not obtain spma] mention from "the 

Bnke." I soon in-raliated myself iiilo 
I this well-occn[)ied clirine, and dosed 

ihem with jtjkiry to their liearls' con- 
l lent I res*d ved at once to enter into 

their humonr; and as ihe '^ponche'* 
Itiiotinted u|> Co my brain I (i^radnally 
[foonii my act^naintuiice^hip extend lo 
'every family and cunnexion in tbe 

country* 

•* Did ye know Phil. Beamlih of the 

S — th» Sir?"" sanl a tail, iefblaced,ri d- 
I whiskered, wel|.lookiiig:f4"(ntlcman, who 
llfore no small resemblance to Fergus 
VO'Connnr- 

*' i*hib Biamish T snid I. Indeed I 
Kid. Sir, and do 9HII; and there is not 
^i miiu in the Britti^b army I am prouder 

ol knowjiif.' Herc» by tbe way, I may 



nr^ntion that I never heard tbe ttarae 

till that moment. 

** Yon lion't say so. Sir V" said Fer- 
gus — fcjr so I must call him, for short* 
uess sake. " Hiw he any chance of the 
company yet. Sir T 

** Company !" said I, in a^toniahmf ut* 
** He obtained bis majority three months 
since. You cannot possibly have heard 
fron* him lately, or you would have 
known ihjit V" 

'* Thai's true, Sir. I never heard 
since he ipiitted the 3 — lb to go to 
Versailles, t think they call it, for bis 
health. Bnt ho^v did he gel itie step, 
Sir r 

•* Why, as to the company, that \ras 
remarkable enough I" said 1, quatBng 
off a tumbler of champagne, to assist 
my invention. " You kmiw it was about 
four o*cb^ck In the afternoon of the 
18tb that Napoleon onlered Grouchy 
to advance with the first and second 
brigade of tbe Old Guard and two 
regiments of chasseurs, and dislodge 
the position oceupied by Pictoo and 
the regiments under his comtnaud. 
\Ycll, Siri on they came, masked by 
the smi>ke of a terrific discbarge of 
ariillcry, stationed on a^m-ill euiltience 
to our left, and wJiich did trtMnendous 

execution amt^ig our puor fellows on 

they came. Sir; «ud as the !«inoke 
cleared partially away AVegot aglirntise 
of them, and a more diingerons looking 
set 1 would not desire to see : grizsle- 
beardcd, bard- feat u red, bron?,^ fel- 
lows, about five-and-thirty or forty 
j^ears of age ; their beauty not a whit 
unproved by the red alare thrown u]m>ii 
their faces uud along the wliole line 
by each dash of the long tvienty-foms 
that were playing away lo the right. 
Jnst at tins moment Picton rode down 
tbe line with \m siaH', and stopping 
within a few pace? ot me, said» ** Tbey'rt 
coming up : steady, bi«ys ; *teady now i 
we shall have something to do soon.* 
And then, turning sharjdy round, he 
looked in the ditecuon of the French 
baitery, th-Jt was thundering awMv 
again in full furce, *' Ah, that must be 
silenced," said he. ** Where's Beamish 'r'* 
— '* Says Pietoh T interrupted Fergu*, 
his eyes starting from their sockets, and 
his muuihgrowitig wid*T every moment, 
as he bstened with itie mo^t inten^^f in- 
terest, ^ Yes/" said 1, s^lowly; and iheii, 
with all the provoking nonchalance of 
an Italian iuiprovi^atore, who alwovs 
halts at the most exciting point of tis 
narrative, I begged a listener near tne 
to hit my ghxs^ from tlte ic«d punch 
beside him. Not a sound was betinl 



I 



I 

I 
I 



lJi87.] 



Chapter L — Cork. 



147 



as 1 lifted the bumper to my lips ; all 
were breathless in their wound-up 
anxiety to hear oF their countryman 
who had t)eeir selected by Picton — for 
what, too, they lcn«rw not }et. And, 
indeed, at this i.istuiit I did not know 
myself, ami nearly laugrhcd outright, 
for the two of ours who had remained 
at the table had so well einploytd thi-ir 
interval of ease as to become very 
pleasantly drunk, and were li^teiiiii^ 
to my confounded story with all the 
irravity and seiiuusncss in the world. 
*** Where's Beamish i" said Pictim. 
* Here, Sir/ said Phil, steppintr out 
from the line, and touching* his cap to 
the General, who, taking him apart 
finr a few minutes, spoke to him with 
great animation. We did not know 
what he said ; but before five minute:^ 
were over, there was Phil, wiih three 
companies of ligltt-bobs drawn up at 
our left ; their muskets at tlic charg-e, 
rhey set off at a round trot down the 
little steep ^%hich closed our Hank. 
We had not much time to follow their 
movements, f«»r our own amusement 
began soon; but I well remember, after 
repelling the French attack, and stand- 
ing in square against two heavy charges 
of cuirassiers, the first thing 1 saw 
where tiie French battery had stood 
was Phil. Beamish and about a handful 
of brave fellows, all that remained from 
the skirmish. He captured two of the 
enemy's field-piece^, and was * Captain 
Beamish* on the day utter." 

** Long life to him,*' said at least a 
dozen voices behind and about me, 
while a general cliukiug of decanters 
and smacking of lips betokened that 
Pbil.*s health with all the honours was 
being celebrated. For m}self, I was 
really so engrossed by my narrative, 
and so excited by the " ponclie,'* that 
I saw or heaid very little of what was 
passing around, and have only a kind 
of dim recollection of being seized by 
the band by " Fergus," who was Bea- 
mish s brother, and who, in the fulnetis 
of his heart, wtmld have hugged me to 
his breast, if I had not opportunely 
been so overpowered as to fall sense- 
less under the table. 

When I first returned to any con- 
sciousness, 1 found myself lying ex- 
actly where I had fallen. Around me 
lay heaps of slain — the two of " ours " 
amongst the number. One ot* tiiem — 
I remember ho was the Atijutant — 
held in his hand a wax candle, (three 
to the pound.) Whether he had 
himself seized it in the eiithu«iasm of 
my narrative of flooil and field, or it 



had been put there by another, I know 
not, but it certainly cut a droll figure. 
The room we were in was a small one, 
otf the great saloon, and through the 
half open ibiding door I could clearly 
perceive that the fcstiviiies were stifl 
continued. The crash of fiddles and 
French horns, and the tramp of feet, 
wliieh had lost much of their elasticity 
since ^he entertainments Iiegan, rang: 
through my ears, mingled with the 
sounds "down the middle," *' hands 
arross" "here's your partner, Captain," 
What hour of the night or morning it 
then was, I could not guess ; but cer- 
tainly the vigour o\ the party seemed 
little abated, if I might judge from the 
specimen before me, and the testimony 
of a short phahoric gentleman, who 
stood wiping his bald head, after con- 
ducting his partner down twenty-eight 
couple, and who, turning to his friend, 
said, " Oh, the distance is nothing, but 
it is the pace that kills.'* 

The first evidence I announced of 
any return to reason, was a strong 
anxiety to be at my quarters ; but how 
to get there I knew not The faint 
glimmering of sense I possessed told 
me that "to stand was to fall,'* and I 
was ashamed to go all-fours, which 
prudence suggested. 

At this moment I remembered I had 
brought with me my eane, which, from 
a perhaps pardonable vanity, I was 
fond of parading. It was a present 
from the officers of my regiment — many 
of them, alas, since dead — and had a 
most splendid gold head, with a stag 
at the top, the arms of the regiment. 
This I would not have lost for any 
con>ideration I can mention ; and this 
now was gone ! I looked around me 
on every side; I groped beneath the 
taldc; I turned the sleeping sots who 
lay about in no very gentle fashion: 
but, alas, it was gone. I sprang to uiy 
feet, and only then remembered how 
unfit I was to follow uj) the search, 
as tables, chairs, lights, and people 
deemed all rocking and waving before 
me. However, I succeeded in making 
my way, through one room into ano- 
ther, Sometimes guiding my steps along 
the walls ; and once, as I recollect, 
seekini: the dia;ronal of a room, I bi- 
sected a cjuudrille with such ill-directed 
speed. a<i to run foul of a Cork dtinily 
and his partner who were just per- 
forming the en nvnnt : but though I 
saw them lie tumbled in the di:st by the 
shock of my encounter — for I had up-, 
set them — I still held on the even tenor 
of my way« In fact, I had feel- 



148 



Confeuiona of Hany Lorvequet: 



[Feb. 



ings for but one toss ; and, still in pur- 
I iuit of my cane, I reached the hatl 
^4oor. Now« be tt known that the ar- 
[ cHilecture of the Cork Mausion House 
I bas but one fault, but thut huh b a grand 
one, ami a strong: evidence of how 
UTisuited English architects are to pro- 
' YidebuUdiiiLTS for a couittry whose tastes 
and habits they but impeifectly under* 
; itand — be it known, then, that the de- 
icent frwm the hall door to the street 
was by a flight of twelve stone step** 
How should I ever get down thcae was 
now my difficulty. If Fulstaff di'plored 
•'eight yards of uneven ground as being 
tlirec score and len miles a foot," wiih 
equal truth did 1 feel tliat these twelve 
Bwful steps wpre woT«ie to me than 
would be M*Gillieuddy'i Reeks hi the 
day-li;iht, and ^^ith a head clear from 
champ^g-ne* While I yet Lesitated, 
the problem resolved itself: for, $raxtng 
down upon the bright gravel, brilliantly 
lighted by the surroiniding lamps, I 
lost mv bakince, and came tumbling 
and rolling from top to bottom, where 
1 fell upon a Idrge mass of some soft 
iubstance, and to which, in all j>roba- 
liility, ] owe my life. In a few seconds 
I recovered my senses, and what was 
my surprise to find that tlie downy 
' cushion benrath, snored most audi^dy I 
1 moved a little to one side, and then 
' discovered that it in reality was nothing 
less than an alderman of Cork, who, 
from his position, I concluded had 
shared the same fate with tnyself: 
, tliere he lay, ** like a warrior taking Ins 
I rest,'' but not with his martial cloak 
; about him, but a much more comfort- 
I able and far more costly robe — a scarlet 
; gown of office, with huge velvet etitfs 
and a great capo of the same materiak 
True courage consists in presence of 
liiiud ; and here mine came to my aid at 
I once: recollecting the loss I had jnst 
su§tnined, and perceiving thut all was 
•till, around me, with that right Fenin- 
futar maxim that reiirisals are fair in 
an enemy's (amp, I jjroceeded to strip 
the slain; and with some little diffi* 
culty — piirtly, indeed, owing to my 
own uu St ea (t in I ss* on my legs^-I suc- 
I ceeded in deuurliug the worthy alder- 
man, who giive no other sign of life 
during the operation than an abortive 
' effort to ** hip, hip, hurra" in w hich I 
[left him, having put on the spoil, e*ti(1 
set out on my way to barracks with as 
niiirh dignity of manner a<i 1 could a^ 
[ aunic in honour of my costume. And 
^here 1 may meniirjn (en jjorcnthese) 
that & more comfortable morning gow n 
no man ever pos#eMcd, and in its widi; 



luxuriant folds I revel while I write 

the!<e lines. 

When I awoke on the following day 
I had considerable difficulty in tracing 
the events of the past evening. The 
great scarlet cloak, howeveri unravelled 
much of the mystery, and gradually 
the whole of my career became clear 
before me, with the single exception 
of the episode of Phil. Beamish, 
which my memory was subsequently 
refreshed about — but I anticipate. Only 
live appeared that day at mess; and 
Lord ! what spectres they were ! — 
yellow as guineas: they called for soda 
water without ceasing, and scarcely 
spoke a word to eaen other. It was 
plain that the corporation of Cork was 
eoniinitiiug more havoc among us thuu 
Corunua or Waterloo^ and that if we 
did not change our quarters, there 
would be quick promotion in the corps 
for such as w ere "* seasoned gentlemen." 
After a day or two we met ag^in toge- 
ther, and then what adventures were 
told — each man had his own story to 
narraie; and from the occurrences de- 
tailed, one would have supposed years 
had been passing, in^^tead of the short 
hours of an evening party. Mine were 
indeed among the least remarkable ; 
but I confess that the air of vraifie[n<» 
blarice producetl by my production of 
the aldermanic gown gave me the palm 
above all uiy competitors. 

Such wai> our life in Cork — dining, 
drinking, dancing, riding stet-ple chases, 
pijieou shooting, and tandem driving — 
tilling up any little interval that was 
found to exijii between a late breakfast 
and the time to dress for dinner : and 
here 1 hope I shall not be accused of 
a tendency to boasting, while 1 add, 
that aTuong all ranks and degrees of 
men and women too, there never was 
a regiment more higldy in e»hnialioH 
than the A-\\i. Wc frli the ftdl value 
of all the attentions we were receiving ; 
and wc endeavoured, as best we might, 
to repay them, even in some small de- 
gree. We got up Garrison Balls ami 
Girrison Plays, and usually performed 
once or twice a wcrk during toe vi inter. 
Here I shone conspicuously. In the 
morning 1 was employed painting 
scenery and arranging the properties ; as 
it grew later, 1 regulated the lam[>s, and 
looked after the foot-lights, mediating 
occasioniilly between angry litigants, 
whose jealousies abound to the full ss 
much in private theatricals, as in the 
regular corps dranmttqxte. Then 1 was 
also leader in the orchestra ; and bad 
scarcely given the last scrape in the 



J 



1837.] 



Chapter L — C<n'k. 



149 



overtere, before I was oblvred to appear 
to speak the prologue. Such are the 
cares of greatneits : to do myself jus- 
tice* I dia BOt dislike them ; though, 
to be sore, my taste for the drama did 
co9t me a little dear, as will be seen in 
the sequel. 

We were then in the full career of 
popularity. Our balls pronounced the 
very pleitsantest ; our plays far supe- 
rior to any regular corps that had ever 
boooured Cork with their talents ; 
when an eveut occurred which threw a 
gloom over all our proceedings, and 
finally put a stop to every project for 
amusement, we had so completely given 
ourselves up to. This was no less 
than the removal of our Lieutenant- 
Colonel. After thirty years of active 
service in the regftnent he then com- 
manded, his age and infirmities, in- 
creased by some severe wounds, de- 
manded ease and repose ; he retired 
from OS, bearing along with him the love 
and regard of every man in the regi- 
ment. To the old officer he was 
endeared by long companionship, and 
ondeviating friendship ; to the young, 
-he was in every respect as a father, 
assisting bv his advice, and guiding by 
Itts counsel ; while to the men, the best 
estimate of his worth appeared in the 
&ct, that a corporal punishment was 
unknown in the corps. Such was the 
Ban we lost ; and it may well be sup- 
posed, that his successor, who, or what- 
ever be might be, came under circum- 
stances of no common difficulty amongst 
us ; but, when I tell, that our new 
Lieotenant-Colonel was in every respect 
his opposite, it may be believed how 
littie cordiality he met with. 

Lieutenant-Colonel Carden — for so 
I shall call him, although not his real 

name had not been a month atquartors, 

when be proved himself a regular Mar- 
tinet; everlasting drills, continual re- 
Eorts, fatigue parties, ball practice, and 
eaven knows what besides, superseded 
oor former morning's occupation ; and, at 
the end of the time I have mentioned, 
we, who fought our way from Aibuera to 
Waterloo, under some of the severest 
Generals of division, were pronoun- 
ced a most disorderiy and ill dis- 
ciplined regiment, by a colonel, who 
had never seen a shot fired but at a 
review in Hounslow, or a sham-battle 
in the Fifteen Acres. The winter was 
now drawing to a close — already some 
liule touch of spring was appearing, 
u our last play for the season was 
announced, every effort to close with 
MOM little additional eddi was made ; 



and each performer in the expected 
piece was nerving himself for an effort 
beyond his wont. The colonel had 
most unequivocally condemned these 
plays ; but that mattered not ; they 
came not within bis jurisdiction ; and 
we took no notice of his displeasure, 
further than sending him tickets, which 
were as immediately returned as re- 
ceived. From being the chief offender, 
/ had become particularly obnoxious ; 
and he had upon more than one occa- 
sion expressed tiis desire for an oppor- 
tunity to visit me with his vengeance ; 
but being aware of his kind intentions 
towards me, I took particular care to 
let no such opportunity occur. On the 
morning in questi(m, then, I had scarcely 
left my quarters, when one of my 
brother officers informed me that the 
colonel had made a great uproar — ^that 
one of the bills of the play had been 
put up on his door — which, with his 
avowed dislike to such representations, 
he considered as intended to insult 
him : he added, too, that the colonel 
attributed it to me. In this, however, 
he was wrong — and, to this hour, I 
never knew who did it. I had littie 
time, and still less inclination, to medi- 
tate upon the colonel's wrath — the 
theatre bad ail my thoughts ; and in- 
deed it was a day of no common exer- 
tion, for our amusements were to con* 
elude with a grand supper on the stage, 
to which all the elite of Cork were 
invited. Wherever I went through the 
city — and many were my peregrinations 
— the great placard of the play stared 
me in the face ; and every gate and 
shattered window in Cork, proclaimed 
•* the part of Olheilo, by Mr. Lorre- 
quer." 

As evening drew near, my cares and 
occujmtinns were redoubled. My logo 
I had fears for — ^'tis true he was an 
admirable Lord Grizzle in Tom Thumb 
— but then— -—then I had to paint the 
whole company, and bear all tiifir abuse 
besides for not making some ol^ the 
most ill-looking wretches, perfect A pol- 
ios ; but, last of all, I was sent tor, at a 
quarter to seven, to lace Dcsdemona's 
stays. Start not, gentle reader — my fair 
Desdemona — she "who might lie by 
an emperor's side, and command him 
tasks" — was no other than the senior 
lieutenant of the regiment, and who 
was as great a votary of the jolly god as 
honest Cassio himself. But I must 

hasten on I cannot delay to recount 

our successes in detail. Let it suffice 
to say, that, by universal consent, I was 
preferred to ^ean ; and the only fault 



150 



ConfdsxiQus fff Ihtrvif Loryerpicr. 



[Fi?b. 



tlie nio^st critical 4>bsci vtr t ntiM Uy to 
the reiireattiitatiL>ri of DestlfiiKma. was 
a ruttM-T unliidvliko lomlmss tor auHli*. 
IJiil, wlutevet little tieairritsoiiractiu;* 
i{ii>!bt have cliipluvi^il, wcr*^ s]Hrcdily 
JVji|r»>lteti iu a c'luMiijiLipie su|i|icr* 
Thi^rr / tnnk the hcid nf ihv liiljle ; 
sttjii, ill l.!itj eujjtmiie tn' ilie uoblo Moor, 

uixl 5«Mii^ s^^il-^^ till I tui^Hi have rx- 
ciaiajeil willi thhello lii li^'rl'', *M*hait» 
was eotim aijaiii T— antl t hi?lvnvc I 
uwtf ii»> rver I'e.n'h'ui^ th(* hiriack that 
u^hi to the khid olHci^b of Dusikfuotia, 
U'ho cirnril uic lUo ^reutrr purl of the 
Wiiy on hi'f back. 

'hie Hi it wakhi^^ thontrlit^ of the wi^ht 
who htis iij(JnlL:^eti civor-iiig:hU nrjj not 
u\ntini the tfti>^i bbifiiiiful of (^xisieticc, 
mii\ rtntkiiuly tht: ilettgbt U not iu- 
frea^ti by tiitr ci» »Sfio isii(?>is that you 
aro caliiMi nii tu |Ik'. di?<ch«ir'^e uf tUitit^s 
which your iV'\«^r.'it [tiilseuiid throbbiii;^ 
touiph'^ Ud*l i.iiher Ji^vt* L'^euped, My 
sk'tp wiis i\Mvn\y lirokcn i^i upon tlio 
juotuiuv; ulb^rtht* plnyjiy u '* i ow-iiow- 
dow"* beat bf^iieLith my wiii<bm, I 
j unified luiiUly trum my tteihund lookenl 
out, aiiil thfjrt', to my horior» j>on'.eiv<jtl 
tljL^ ik^jr^ijii^nt mider ardis!. It win one 
o\' our L'onf'mniled coloutiVs luoruMi;^ 
drdU ; uihI ikicre kit- i^tumi hioisdl' wltli 
ihu poor iitijotaut, who hid been up all 
ni^^hr, fthivfrln^ brside hlin. Sduic- 
two or llirt'ij of the olfir.PTs liad «lc- 
scentb^d ; inul lliL' diuiri uas tiuw suui- 
luoiiiu^' rill! i*ihei>» .is ii beat roiiivd the 
barrdck-Sf|Uare, I ^aw llu:re wus not a 
moment to lo^e, tiiiil |»ioc*tedeii to dress 
witli dt dcsfMiub ; but, to my misery, 
I dt^covpred every ivhere, uuihui<; but 
tUeaiiical robes aud deeor*ilkm& — theif 
Liy a splemUd lurbau, kiere a pwtr oi 
1m<i>kiu — I spauulci jiiekei^lillereil un 
one tiible. aud a jewi ll< d scimitar tin 
the other. At I i^t i ilet< eled my ** rt> 
^^iaieuLal smad-floliies," &r, mo^t i^^iio- 
ifiuiiuu^ly lliriii^i into h eorucr^ in my 
Miitoiu for ujy M lorijtli robe* the pie- 
Cediui^ cveuiaj^r. I drtssed tuybelf with 
ihti speed of li^L^hiniiij^ ; but lis I pio- 
ceedud iu iiiy oeeupati uj — Lfuias my 
annoy titiee to find that the tinleL taltle 
und glass, u\ , and even th(? basiii- 
Ri.md, hud betii reiuoved to the dress- 
iusr^riXMn nf tUii theatre ; aiid my sef- 
vant, 1 snfipode, Ibllo^inu'^ his muster^s 
eXHiiJpde. was loo Up^y to remf^iuber 
to bTini< tlu'in liaek ; so lliat I was 
tmablc to pnicure ttie luxury of cold 
Water — for now not a mouieut more re- 
mained — the drum had ceased, und the 
men had nil f^Uv n iu. TTastilv drawinj^ 
on luy c at, 1 put on mysbdko^aiid buck- 



liujtr on my belt as daiidy-Uke m ruigbi 
be, iiiiFried down the sinirs to the bar- 
rack-yard. By the time 1 jrot down, 
the uien were drawu up tit tine ahmsr 
the Hjikire ; while the actjutunt wus 
pioeetdiiii^r to cxaiuiue lh<4r aceoulfe- 
nieuis, &o, ai4 he parsed do«u. The 
eoioHfd and ttie ofiicers Wf le standin;; in 
a tT mp. hot not c't»iiv('i*Tii^. "Hie 
uTijirfr tif llir coMiintmdinz iifHrer ap- 
pearrrl iiiiti to eoutiuiie, and there waa 
a deitd ^ilewcp iwaintiiiiipd en both side*. 
To reaeh the *pot where they Stood, 
1 had to pa«!j alons* ]iart ot the line. 
In doiiiL'' ^, htnv shall 1 eonvey my 
aui.izeiuf^ut M the face.i tluit met me— 
a ^enerdl titter ran alon^ the entire 
rank, wlneh uot even their teiirs for 
conjicqiieuees seemed able to rq»re&8— 
for an e'forL on the part of iHuiiy« to 
Btilie the lau^h, ouly endetl iii a M\ 
louder burst of merriuu^riL 1 luokeii 
to the far side of the yanl for an expli^- 
nation, bnt liieie wu9 nothing tliere to 
aeeoinit for it. 1 now crossed over to 
where theoifieerfc; werf'^taudini;. dcter* 
aiioin;: in uiy (»wu miutt to invi^li^tc 
the oeeurreuee ilioronj^bly, when free 
from the preseiiee o|' the eolouel, U» 
whom any representation of ill condurt 
always bruiijrht a ponishnieiit fur cx- 
eeedinLT the uieriis of the ease. Scarcely 
had 1 foriued this resolvei wb^n 1 
rejched the ^ronp of office ra ; bnt the 
moment I eame near, ouc general roar 
of laughter sulated me, — the like t*f 
wbieb I never lie fore heard* I looked 
down at my eojitume, expecting to dis- 
cover that, iu my harry to dress, I had 
put rm gouie of ihe garments of 
Oi hello. No : all was periectly cor- 
reet, I waited for a moment, tiil tlie 
iirst byrst <tf their merriment over, I 
sb iuld obtain u clue to the je^U But 
iheie serruetl uti prospeet of this ; for 
Wi I stotal patiently before theui, their 
nnrth upjieared to i acreage, indeed 

poor G -, llie senior major, ouc of 

tin- itrave^t ujen in Eiiroj»e, 'uiighetl 
till the tears ran ilowu hl» cheeks; and 
Buch WHS the ctTect upon me, thai \ 
Wti6 induced to Lnifh too — as men will 
souietiuie^, frout the inftctious nature 
of that ^tiauj^c emotion. But, no 
sooner did [ do this, than I heir fim 
knew no bounds, and some almtist 
aci earned aloud, in the excess of their 
merrimoiit. Just at this instant the 
colonel, who hafl been eXiimiuing fi^omc 
of the men, approached our gronp, 
and advancing with an air of evident 
di?<pleasuTe, as the shouts of tuud 
laughter continued, came near. t 
turned hastily round, tiud toucliin(^ my 



I 



I8S7.] 



ChapUr L — Cork. 



151 



\ 



cap, wished bim good morning'* Nev*?r 
shall 1 forget the Icxik he g-av*? me. If 
a gtynce couM hnve aniiihiliitod any 
man, that wouhl have finished me. 
Far a mnmetit his fuce h^c^inie purple 
with rsAire* \i\^ eye was aliiKjst hid be* 
itcatli his bent Ivrow, and he absolutely 
ehuok with passion. 

**Go, iir/* *aid he, at length, as soon 
S» he wus able to find uUeriinci* fi)r \m 
w.inls; ** Go, sir, to your qmirlers ; 
and lK>r<»re yoti leave thim, a roiirl- 
marttAl sU;ill decide, if such conriiiuetl 
insult ro yuur cornintinding- ciflicrr, wur- 
mnls vuur name being in the * Army 
List.* " 

•* Whttt tlie devil can all thi? mean I" 
1 snid, in a half-whisper, tiiriiiiiji to tin: 
otbrr^. Bui tiiere they stood, iheir 
haudkerchitlii to thi'ir mouths, and 
evidently choking wiih suppresaed 
laughter. 

•* M«y I beg, Colont I C — ^r ^'M 

"To your quarters Hr r roared ihe 
Uttle ntiin, iu tt\e voice of a liun. And 
^ilh a haujihty wave of his hund. pre- 
vented all further attempt on my [lart 
to »eck explanation. 

*• They're all mad, every man of 
4hen»/' I muttered, ai I betook my way 
lidovily back to my rooms^ amid the 
vanie evidences of mirtli my first ap- 
peardnee liad excitf^d^ — winch even the 
col oners pre«enee^ feared as he was, 
could not entirely aubdue. 

With tlic air of a martyr I trod 
heavily up the stairs, anti euiercd my 
quarters, meditating wiihin myself aw- 
ful schemes for veng-cance, on the now 
open tyranny of my colonel j upon 
w hom, I too, in my honest rcctitnde of 
heart, vowed to have *a ctiurt raartiul/ 
1 threw myself upon a chair, and en- 
deavoured* to recuncet what eireuin- 
itance of the past cVening cou!d have 
possibly suggested all the mirtli in 
which both officers and men seemed 
to participate equally ; but nothing 
cotiid I remember C4i])able of sdJving* 
the mystery, — surely the cruel virougs 
of the* manly Utlicllo were no laugh* 
ter-moving subject. 

I runjr the bell hastily for ray ser- 
vant The door f^pened. — 

•• Stubbed," said I, " are you aware" — 

I had only got so far in my ques- 
tion, when my servant, one of i he mo?t 
discreet of men, put on a broad grin, 
and turned dv\»y towards the door to 
hide his face. 

** What the devil does this meari ?" 
«4id 1, stamping with passion ; he is 
%% hw^d lU the lest, ** Siubbe*," miil 



this I fpoke with the most grave and 
s*^vere tone, " What is the meuning of 
this iiisohMice ?" 

*'0h, sir,** said the man, "oh, captain, 
surf'lyr you ilid not uppciir on partide 
witii thiit face?" And then he burst 
into a fit of tlie rii<»st unconironable 
laughter. 

Like lightning a horrid douht shot 
acruf-s my mind f fpniny: over to the 
dres?ing-gl;is3, whielj liad been re* 
placed, and oh ! hmror of horrors I 
there 1 stond us black as tlie King of 
Aj^hantee. The eiirsed i\y^ which I 
held put ^n lor Othclh» 1 hud never 
washed off, — and ihere, with a hu^'-e 
bear-skin «huko, nod vk p;iir of bluck, 
bujihy vvhigkcr«i, shone my huge, black, 
and polish d visage, j^lowering at itself 
in the h.Hjkiiig-gl.iss. 

My fir?<t impulse, alYer amazement 
iutfl A little 3 lib girled, wLtfi to luu^jh im- 
moderately ; in this 1 was joined hv 
Stubbcs, who, feeling th^it his mirth 
was participated in, irave Ihtl vent to his 
ri^iljility. And, indei d, a?* I stood be- 
fiire the gliis^, grinning from ear to 
ear, I IVIt vi ry little .surprise thiit my 
jniiying in the laughter of my brother 
f»rticer!=, a short tiuie be I ore ^ had caused 
an increase of their mernment* I threw 
myself upon u sofa, and absolutely 
lat]ght)d till my sides iiched, when, the 
door opening, the adjutant made his 
appearance. Pie looked for a moment 
at me, then at Stubbes, and then burst 
out, him^cU^ as loud as either of us.^^ 
When he liad at length recovered 
himself, he wiped his face with bis 
handkerchief, nod said» with as much 
gravity as the conset|uences seemed to 
warrant : — 

" JJot, my dear Lnrrequer, this will 
be a seriouH — a devilish serious affair, 
Yoi» know what kind of man Colonel 
C is ; and you are aware, t,oo, you 

are not one of his prime Ikvorite*:. He 
is firmly convinced that yon intended 
to insult him, and nothing will con- 
vince him to the contrary. We told 
him how ii must have oecurrcd, but he 
will listen to m> e3t]danaEion.*' 

1 thought for one seeond before I 
replied. My mind, with the prEuti^^ed 
rapidity of an old campaiiLnier^ took in 
all the prm and tx)us of the case. 1 
saw at a gbnce, It were better to brave 
the anger of the colonel, ecpme in what 
shape it might, thju be tiie laughing 
stock of I he mess tiir life, and with a 
face of the greatest gravity and solf- 
posses^ion, snid, 

I* WpU, adjnrant, the colotiel is right. 
l( wj» no miHuk • ! Vou know 1 smt 



r 



152 



Confessions of Hm^if Loyrtquer. 



[Feb. 



him lickets yesterdJoy for the theatre. 
Wellr he relumetl thi^m. Tliis liiil not 
annoy mc, but on t>ne accoiijit, 1 bad 
made (\ wuger with Alderman Gulkblc, 
thiit tlie colonel should see me in 
Otliello — what was to be iloiic ? — 
Doi»*t you see now, there was only one 
course* and I took i(. old boy, aud have 
won my ijtit !"' 

^ And lost your commission for a 
d^jzen tif iimmjtiigiie, I ^uppose,'^ said 
ihe atljiitdint. 

** Never mind, my dear fellow," 1 re- 
plied ; ** I shall a:et out ot'tloB s€raj>e aa 
I have dimt* nmny uthers."* 

^* Btjt wluit do yon intent! doinir ?** 

** Oil, i**to tliatV' Bmd I, " 1 i*hall of 
eonrse, wait on the eolnnel iinmedi- 
Qlely ; prciend to bitn tlrdt it was a 
mere hlundiT, li«*io the innttention of 
my BLTvmit — ^h.ind over StuUbc^ to the 
ptnviTS thtit jinnbh, (here the poor 
iellow winced a little), and make niy 
peace ns well as I can. Btit, adjutarkt, 
mind,'' said I, "and give the real ver- 
sion to all our fellows, and tell them to 
make tt public as mueh wb they please/' 

** Never fear," said he, as he leit the 
Troom still lantrhing, *' they shall all 
know the tine story ; but 1 wish with 
all my heart you were well out of it." 

1 now tost uo time in makinj^ my 
toilrtj ami presented myself at the 
coloriers t]uarters. It is no pleasure to 
me to recount these pasfiagea in my 
life, in which I have had to bewr the 
** proud nun's contumely." 1 shall 
theretbre merely tdjserve, that after a 
very hmg- interview, the colom I accept- 
ed my apologie?, and we parted. 

Before a week plapsicd^the story had 
gone fur and nciir j every dnmer table 
in Cork had lanyfhed at it* As for me, 
I attained immorlal honor for my tact 
and courac:e. Poor GullaWe readily 
agreed to favour the story^ and ^ave 
us a dinner as the lo^t \ni^er^ and the 
colonel was so unniercilully quiized on 
the Bubject^and such broad allusions to 
Ins buioff humhu;,^u:ed were given in the 
CuTk papers, that he was obliged to 
Tipgofiate a chatige of quarters with an- 
other lefjiment, to ifet out of the conti- 
nual jestiojf, and in less than a month 
wo marched to Limerick, to relicvCi 
as it was reported, the !)th, ordered for 
foreign service* but, in reality, only to 
relic ve Lienl.-Colonel C\, quizzed be- 
yioud eiidnraucct 



However, if the colonel had fteemed 

to forgive, he did not tbrgej, for the 
very second w eek of our arrival in 
Llmerirk, I received one muming at 
my breakfast table, the fullowing- brief 
note from our adjutant : 

*t My dear LoaiiEQtJEH — TUe colooel 
has received orders to despatch two com* 
pauies to some remote part oi' th<* coquIj 
Clare, as you ha Vti 'dune the state tome 
service/ y<iu are selected for the beautU 
ful town of Kilrush, where, to «»e the 
eulogistic language of Ihe geograpliy 
book*!, ' ther« is a food harbour and a 
market plentifully supplied with fish.' J 
have jujit heard of the kind intention in 
Btore lor you> and losa no time in letting 
you know, 

God give yon a good deliverance from 
the *' garcons Ulancs," m the Monktur 
calls the wlnteboys» and believe me ev^- 
yours, 

** Chahleb CuftZON.'* 

I had scar ccly twice read over the 
adjutaut's epistle, when I received an 
otlidid notiheation from the colonel 
directing me to proceed to KifruaK 
then and there to afford all airi aud 
a^^si stance in supp resiling illicit distilla* 
tion^when called on for that purpose j 
and other ifimilar duties too agreeable 
to rccapilulate* Alas! aJas! ** Otbcllo'i 
occu|jaiion*' was indeed gone I The 
next morning' at sun-rise saw me on 
my march, with what appearance of 
gaiety I could mut^ter* but in reality 
very much chopfullen at my banbh* 
ment, and invoking sundry things upon 
the devoted head of the coloneU 
which he would by no meatia coni^ider 
as " blessings." 

How short-sighted are we mortals, 
xvhether enjoying all the pomp aud 
state of royalty, or marching like roy* 
self at the head of a company of bis 
Majesty's 4-th. 

Little, indeed, did I anticipate that 
the Siberia Hancicd 1 was condemned 
to, should turn otii the hapfdest quArter» 
my fates ever threw me into ; but thia, 
including as it does, one of the most 
important events of my life, 1 reserve 
for another chapter. 

** What is that place called* ser- 
geant ?" 

*• Bnn ratty Castle, sir.** 

** Where do we breakfast ?" 

•* At Clare Island, sir V 

** March away, boys T* 



U370 



Chapter IL — KilrmL 



CtlAP« n. — KlLUUSIt* 



353 



For a %vcek after my arrival ut Kil- 
rush, my life wus one of the most 
dreary monotony. The rain^ which 
had begun to fdll »s I left Limerick, 
continued to descend in torrents* und 
1 touad myself a close jjnsoiier in the 
sanded parlour of *'mine Inn." At no 
time would Ruch " durtuic<? vile"' have 
been agreeable ; but iiqw, when I coii' 
trasteffil with nil 1 had lel\ behind, aX 
bead -qu art erSi it w^s ubBolutety mad- 
deuiu^. The pleasant loiin|j:e in ihe 
morning, the social mess, and ihe 
iigreeuble evening party, were all ex- 
changed for a frhort juonienade of 
fourtccD feet in one direction, and 
twelve iu the other, snch being the ac- 
curate measurement of my **sulun a 
manger.^ A chicken, with legs as 
blue as a Highlander's in \\ inter, lor my 
dinner ; and the hours that all Chris- 
tian mankind were devoting lo pk'a- 
fiaol intercourse, and agreeable chit- 
chat, spent in beating tliat dead niarth 
to time, " The Devil's Tattoo/' upon 
my ricketty table, and Ibrmin^-, be- 
tween whiles, sundry valorous rfsohi- 
lions to reform my life, and *• eschew 
aack and loose compuny.'* 

My front-window looked out upon a 
long, stragglings ill-puved street, with 
\u due pniportion of mud-heups^ and 
duck-pools ; the houses on either side 
were, fur the most part, dingy-looking 
edifices, with half-doors, and such pre- 
tension to being shops as a quart of 
meftl, or salt, displayed in the window, 
confers ; or sometimes two tohflcco- 
pipes, placed "sal tier- wise,*' woukl ap- 
pear the only vendible article in the 
establish menL A more wrrlched, 
gloomy-looking picture of wo-begone 
poverty 1 never beheld. 

If 1 turned for consolation to the 
back of the house, my eyes fell upon 
the dirty yard of a dirty inn, the half- 
Ihatched cowshed, where two famished 
auimalfi mourned their hard fate, — 
"chewing ihe cud of sweet and bitter 
faiic^v ;" the chaise, the yellow post 
cltaisc, once the pride and glory of the 
establishment, now stood reduced from 
its wheels, and igimminioutly degraded 
to n hen-house : on the grass-grown 
f^of a cock had taken his stand, with 
an air of protective patronage to the 
feathered inliabitants beneath : 

*' To wbaii bwi« uim mu«t ive come &t lajit*** 

That chaise, which once had conveyed 
M\t blooming bridc^ all blushes and 



tendernes!*, and the hjppy groom, on 
their honeymoon visit to Ballybunnion 
and its ronmntic cuvcs, or to the 
gigantic cUtl's and sea-girt shore of 
Mo|^her ; or with more steady psjce and 
becoming grauiy had borne along the 
"gning judge of assise'" — was now be- 
come a lying-iu hospital for fowl, and 
a nursery for chickens. Fallen as 1 was 
myself from ni^v high estate^, it afforded 
me a species oi malicious satisliiciion to 
coiitenifflate tliese s*id reverses of for- 
tune ; und 1 verily believe — for on such 
slight foundtition otir greatest resolves 
are built — thut if ihe rain had con- 
liiiued a week longer, 1 should have 
become a nds^mthropist for life. I 
made tnany empiiriea from tny land- 
lady as to the society of the place, but 
the answers I received, only led to 
greater despondence* My predecessor 
here, it seemed, had been an otiiccr of 
a veteran baibdioii, with a wife, ami 
thiit amount of children which is 
algebraically expressed by an X (mean- 
ing an unknown quantity.) He, good 
man, in his two years' sojourn fiere, 
had been much more solicitous about 
his ow n a ffai rs t h an m a k i ug acq u ai n ta ti c e 
with his neighbours \ and at last the few 
persons who hiid been in the hubit tjf 
cal I ingou the** officer/' gave up the prac- 
tice \ and as there were no } oung ladies 
to retresh Pa*e memory on the mailer, 
they soon forgot completely that such 
a person existed— and to this hajjpy 
oblivion, I Harry LorTfquer,succecned, 
and was thus left without benefit of 
clergy to the tender mercies of Mrs. 
Healy of ihe Burton Arms. 

As during the inundation which 
deluged the whole country around 1 was 
unable lo stir from the house, 1 enjoyed 
abniidant oppoilunity of cultivatiugthe 
accjuaintance of uiy hostess, ami it is 
but lair that niy reader, wlm has 
journeyed so far with me, should have 
an inlroduciion, 

Mrs, Healy, the sole proprietor of 
the " Burton Arms," was of some Hve 
and fifty-— *' or by V lady/' three score 
ytars, of a rubicond and h^ile com- 
plexion ; and though her short neck 
and corpulent figure ini^^ht have set 
her dow^n as ** doubly huztirdous," she 
looked a good life fur rn.iny years to 
come. In height and breadth she 
roost nearly resembled a eus(^ar-hog$- 
head^ whose rolling-|>Jtchin^'- motion, 
when trundled along on edge, sha 
CJiiulatcd hi her gait^ To the ungaiiu- 



!S4 



Confessiom of Harry Lorrequer* 



lluese of her figure her mode t)f dress- 
ings not a little contributed. She usu^ 
ally wore a thick linsey-wolsey gown^ 
filth enormoiif pockets on either side, 
autJ, like Nora Cmriii's. ttctrt^iuly re- 
flecteii no uiitiue restriction upon her 
chitrtiwi, but lefl 

Tfi tinic or swrelJ -m ht'Hyen ph-awn/* 

I Her fcpt^ — ye god a ! such feet — were 

l«ppart']lcd in listoii elippeis, over 

[frhich ihe upholstery of her ancles 

Idrac^MnSKd, dnd coinplt-trly relieved 

fthe mind of the spectator ns lo (he 

rfuperineninberit vveiu'ht lieini^ dispro- 

M>ortioneAi to the sop[nirt, 1 remember 

FWeM my lis at imprcSMun on sciing' 

Ithose feet and amies rnpciTsiiig upon a 

■♦traw Ibot'Stodv wltile che look her 

faftpmooTi dose, und 1 vvoTnleri^d within 

f tnysrUt if clepbunis were liable to the 

pout. There are lew countenances in 

the world, that if wij^liinj; to convey 

Mn idea of. we cnnn tt refet to sointf wt41 

known Fittndu«T<l, ajid rhns not hi n^^' is 

more cnrnmonthun to In^ar cotiipiirinjuiis 

|i*ith '* Vulerin-Venus^-Nieudeiiius*' w^d 

I the like ; but in the pre-ent case 1 urn 

|tt>ta!ly at a lo<i« for any thinjf re- 

lienibiing the fuce of the worthy Mrs. 

[Henly, ejtccpt it be, pprhnp;!, ihnt nM»st 

Ivneient ami sour visage wt? n^td to *ce 

lupon old rircnlar iron rappers Ibrnierly 

|*^thev make notie of tht^in now — tlie 

only ffiffdrence being:, thai Mrs. Healy's 

iio»e bud no ring' through it — I am 

almost ttmpted to add **morc*s the 

Such was she in ihe tleah— -would 

that 1 conbl any she Wris more fastii* 

lliiiting in the jipirit ; — ^tnit alus truths 

"from which 1 neviT may «lepMrt in these 

(•* my confessions/^ constrains uie to ac» 

Jltnov Ic!iJg • the reverse. Most perstjiis 

|ln ih^s miserable world of ours have 

Dme prevailin;:, predominyiting cha- 

acter(>tie, wbleb n-sotilly g^ives the 

tuncandi cnhmrttj all tlicir thnn^iitssrid 

aetions forming what we denominate 

leniperament ; this we see actnatingr 

them now niori',iiowk'9e,Hnd sometimes 

beeonnnnr il m'St dormiinl— so little 

does it seem to exert its hiHtJrnce» 

•Sot so with her of whtnn I have bt-en 

•peaking — ^h* had but one passion, 

*bnt like Aaron'^ rod it swallowed up 

evriy cither, and that was to scoht, and 

fthnsp. all wlvoni hard fate had brotio^ht 

within the unfortnntite limits of her 

tyranny. The Knglish language, com- 

. prehen^ive us it is,attbrded wA epithets 

l«trong en >u;;h for her wrath, and *ho 

sought among the more classic beauties 

of her tiitivc Irish such additional ones 



as served her need, and with this hf| 
alliance of tongues, she had been 
years long, the dread and terror of | 
entire village, 

** The (tawning of mom, tli«wdAr*lJs!ht ilnki 
ay, and even the night^s dull hourvi 
It was said» too, found her labour* 
ing in her congenial (x-eupation — and 
wiiile tlins she continued to ** scold atid 
grow fat," her Imi, once a popular aad 
frequented one, became gradually let! 
and Iciis frequented, and the dragon of 
the Rhine^fells did not more eft actu- 
ally Irty waste the terrirory around htm, 
than did the evil influence of her tongue 
spread desolation and ruin around lipr. 
Her Inn, i\t I be lime of uiy visit, h^d 
not been troubled with even a passing 
ttdveller for months long ; and, indee-d, 
if I had any, even the least fur«'know- 
IcA^G of the character of my ho*ile.*«, 
its privacy should have still remained 
uniiivaded for some time longer. 

I had not been many hours installed 
when I got a spt cimen of her powers ; 
and before the first week was over, io 
constant and unremitting were hrr 
labtjur^ in thi>i wny, that I have, upon 
the occasion of a slighi lull in the 
storm, ocea<ii(>ned by her falling asleep, 
aeloaliy left my room to enquire if any- 
thing luid gcitie wrong, in the same 
way as the miller i* said to awake it 
the mill stoffs, I trust I have said 
enough to move the reader's pity and 
eornpasatun to my situation — one mote 
miserable it is dlHicult to conceive. 
It may be tliought that much might be 
done uy management, ami that a slight 
exercise of the favourite Whig plan of 
conciliation, mi^ht uvaih Nothing of 
llie kind— she was proof airainst qU 
such arts; and what wad still worse, 
there was no subject, no possible cir- 
cnnifitance, no matter, pa?t, present. Of 
to com*', that she could not wind by 
her diabolical ingenuity into some 
cause of otFence — and then came the 
qidek transition to in^-tant nunishment 
Thus my apparently harmless enquiry 
as to the society of the neighbourhood 
Puggesicul to her — a wish on iixy part 
to make acqtiaintance — therefore Xo 
dine out — thcrefi^rc not to dine ftt 
home — consequently to escape paying 
half-a-crown and devounng a chicken- 
therefore to di* fraud her, and to he- 
have, as she would herself observe, 
** like a beggarly «cullion with his four 
K hi dings a^ay setting up for a genlle- 
roan^ Ac. 

- By a quiet and Job-like endurance 
of all manner of taunting suspicions 
mud unmerited sarcasmf^ to wl^ich 



I 
I 



18S7.] 



Chapter IL—KilnesL 



135 



daily boon me more reconciled, I a^/So- 
lutely b«'Cdi]ie aliuoiit u favourite ; and 
lietbre llie lir^t nioinb of my banish* 
mctit exjiired, liLid gut ibt^ length of 
an itivituiion to tea in lier own snug- 
gery — an honour never kno^n to be 
liestuwcd on any beforr, with the 4'x- 
ccption of FalVicr Miilttchi Breni>an, 
hcf ^bostly adviser ; and even br ^ it is 
Stfid, never venturt^d vu soeh ati ii|>* 
|>ro&imaiii>n to inlimaey nnlil he was, 
lu Rihujsh phrase, " liulf g^erfiAved/' 
thereby uitaiiiiiLj more than half iip\v. 
From time to titne t litis [ b'arned from 
my hosteM sueh p^irticubrs of the 
couutry and its iuhdbiturjts a* 1 was 
desirous of hearin,r ; tiiid amiitig^ other 
matters, fhe gave me an aeeniiiit of the 
gTCUt landed prt>|irietor liimseir, Lord 
Cullooliy, who was daily eitpeeled at 
h.& seat, within some ii»le!i of Kilrnsh, 
at the isame time i:issunii<4^ me that I 
need not be tookiot? so *' pleased and 
corrni^ ont my whiskers" — " that they'd 
ucver tiike the ir-iuljle of ij-kin^ even 
the name of me," This, thougli lo'ilhcr 
very eotirt*^oii?^,noralti)p^ether flatterinif 
to listen tu, wm no mure tbLiii I hatl 
»Ir<*Mdy li'arnod IVorn some brother 
officers who knew this quarter, and 
who in formed me that the Earl of 
Ciillonby, though only \isiliiig hia 
lri«h estates every three or tour yeiir?, 
never look the »h^hte<t nohte of any 
of the military in his nriglihmtrhond, 
nor, indeed, did he naix with the 
eountry gentry — e«mfitiitig hini?e]f to 
his own fainify, or the guests, who 
usually ueeompindt'd him from England, 
and remained during^ his few weeks' stay* 
My impression oi his lordship wns 
Ihercfoic not calculated to eh* er my 
solitude by any prt>«pLCt of Ins render- 
in* it lij[^hien 

The earl's family consisted of her 
ladyship* hji only Son, nesirly of age, 
and two daiifj;htrrs ; the elili-it, Lady 
Jane, had the roputation of being ex- 
tremt'ly beautiful ; and I remeuibered 
when she came out in Lonilim, only 
the year befor*% hearing- nothing but 

{•raises of the graee and elegance of 
ler manner, united to the most classic 
licauty of her fiice and figure. *The 
coiid daughter was some years 
Outiger, and said to be ulao very 
iudsome ; but as yet she had not 
_een brought into society. Of ilie 
"(Min» Lord Kiikee, I only heard that 
he had been a very gay ft- 1 low at 
Oxford, w^a* much iiked, and had but 
«inaM sympathy with the ultra cic lu- 
ll vc notions of the rest of his fiiinily, 
^ho au4,'urcd but ill of hitn froji what 



they denominated ** hia taste for losing 

I ♦* 
cid^te. 

Such wcretlie chief particulars I ob- 
tained of my neighboors and which I 
shoutd nnt tr.ive been so circninstantial 
in naiint; down, if they hud not 
snliset^nently occupied true, at kMSt one 
important page m my hi«tiiiry. 

AtWr siutuc v^c<;'kH elo-e eoiilim ment, 
whiuh, judging fruin uiy feelings atone, 
I should have conn Led as many yearn, 
1 LMgcrly scizi^d the opportunity *>f the 
tirst glunpse of i^iinsliiue to ui.ike a 
slmrt excursion along tlie const ; I 
ataited earh iu the mtmiing, ami aftor 
a long stridl along the bold headlands 
of Kilkee, was rt-'liiriiing laie in the 
evening to uiy ludj^i^gs. My ptith 
lay across a nihl^ lileak moor, dotted 
witli h»w eluTiips of lutzv, and nut pre- 
st^ntiFig iMi iinv side the least trace of 
habituttoiK in wuiiing throiufh the 
tioigled bushes, tny dog " Monehe'' 
starteil a hare ; and utter a run ^'sharp, 
iihort, and deeisive/' killed at the 
bottom of a little gleu some hundred 
yitrda olf. 

1 was just pEitting my dog, and ex* 
a mining the piixe, when J heard a 
cruckling amtnjg the low boshes near 
me ; ami, on looking op, perceived, 
about twenty paces distant, a short, 
thick *et man, whose fustian JHcket 
and leaihiiin gaiters at once pio- 
n on need him the game keeper j he 
stood leajiirig upon his gon, quietly 
awaiting, as it seemed, for any move- 
ment on my part before he interfered. 
With one glance 1 detected how mat- 
ters stood^ atid immediiitely adopting 
iny usual policy of ** taking the bull 
by the horns,"' called out, in a tone of 
very sotiicitnt authoriiy, 

" i say, my mun, are you his lord- 
ship's game kecfiur ?" 

Takiug off lii?i hat, the nmn ap- 
pmached me, and very res[»ccl fully 
inf >ranfd me that he was* 

** Well, I hen." said 1, ** present this 

hare to his h»rd<hip with my rc-pects 

here is my card, mid say 1 shall be 
must happy to wait on hint in the 
morning and explain the eireniitstunce/' 
The mall took the card, and seemed 
for some moments undecidrd how to 
act ; he seemed to think thut probably 
he miglit be illtrealing a friend of his 
lordsjhip's if he rehiscil ; and on the 
other hund might be merely "jockied" 
by some bnld-fdced poacher* Meun- 
wliile 1 whistled my dog elo-^e up, and, 
humming an air with great ajtpearance 
of indilleience, stepped out liomeward. 
B^' this piece of presence of mind 1 



156 



Confeuions of Hari^ Lgrrequer, 



[Feh. 



saved poor ** Mejuche ;* for I saw at a 
glance that with true grame keeper's 
law he had been destined to death ihe 
moment he had committed the offence. 
The lol lowing morning^^ as I sat at 
breakfast, meditating' upon the events 
'of the fireoediii^r day, and nol exactly 
deteriiiified liow to act, whether to 
unte to his lordship exftbining^ how 
|.the n^attcr orcyrred, or call person- 
Jly, a loud ratthng on the pavement 
ircw me to the window. As the 
house Riood at the end of a street [ 
fcconld not see in the direction the ooii^c 
{camei bvit as I li^^tetlOli, a very hand- 
come tundein turned the corner of the 
Luarmsv strei-t, and came aK»n^ towards 
|4Kc hotel at a loni;, sling irot; the 
|ih<*rses were dark ehej$tnut.s well match- 
ed, und showing a deal of hlood. The 
iimaue was a dark dnih, with black 
ihtfels ; the harness all of tlie smne 
f^eolor. The whole turn ont — und 1 
Iwa*! an amateur of that sort of thing — 
til as perfect t tht driver, for I come to 
liiin last, as ho was the last 1 looked 
lat, Wd& a fa>hiuncible loiiking^ youitgf 
eilow, ]>laiiiH', hut knou ingly, dressed, 
ind evideniiy handling the ''ribbons*' 
like m\ experient'ud w htp. 

After bringing^ his na^jrs op to the 
Jjnn door in v<ry preti) style, lie jar>*ve 
Ltbe reins to his servant and got down. 
"►B*:lore I was wvll aware of it the door 
iof my room opened, and the genileman 
kentcrf d wiih a certain easy air of good 
^breeding, and saying;, 

** Mr Lorrequer 1 preHume'* — intro- 
^duccd himself as Lord Kilkee. 

I immi'diateiy opened the conversa- 

Flion by an apology for my dog*s mis- 

^condoct on the day before, and assured 

his lordship that 1 knew the value of a 

liare in a bunting: country, and was 

j really sorry for the cireuiustance. 

Then I must say," replied his lord- 
jifhipi " Mr, Lorreqiicr h the only per- 
son who regrets the mutter ; for nu<| it 
^l»ol been for this, it is morr than pro* 
ibable we should never have kuowa %ve 
ln'f^re &o nciir neighbours ; in fact, tio- 
rtliing could equal our arnu7.ement at 
f hearing' you were pluying: the * Soli* 
I tail e' down here. You mu^t have 
bund it dreadfully heavy, *und have 
houg'ht us downright savag^cs.' But 
hen I must expluin to you, that my 
atbcr has made some * rule absolute' 
Hbout visiting- when down here. And 
Abough 1 know youll not consider it a 
eampliment, yet 1 can assure you there 
is nut another man I know of, be 
wtiuld pay altention to but yourself. 
He made two cflbrts to get here this 



morning', but the gout ' would not be 
denied/ and so he deputed a most in* 
ferior 'diplomate i* ami now will you 
let me return with some character from 
ray first ntission, and inform my friends 
that you will dine with us today at 
seven — a mere lamily party ; but make 
your arrangements to stop all night ami 
tomorrow j we shall find some work 
for my friend there on the hearth — 
what do you call hiui, Mr* LorrequerK* 

" * Mouche' — come here, * Moucbe."* 

** Ah ' Mouche, come here, my fine 
fellow — a splendid dog indeed — very 
tall for a tltorough-bred ; and now 
you'll not forget seven, * temps milt- 
taire/ and so, sans adieu*** 

And with these words his lord- 
ship shook me heartily bv the hand ; 
anil before two minutes had elapseil, 
had wrapped his box coat once more 
across him, and was rouud the comer. 

I looked for a few moments on the 
again silent street, and was almost 
templed to believe 1 was in a druam, 
so rapidly had the precr diui? moments 
passed over ; and so surpmed %i'us ( 
to find that the proud Earl of Callonby, 
who ntjver did the *' civil thing'* any 
where, should think proper to pay 
attention to a poor ensign in a 
marching regiment, whose only claim 
on his acquaintance was the suspi- 
cion of poaching ou his miuior. I re- 
pealed over ami o%'er all his lordi.hips 
uujst polite speeches, trying to solve 
the mystery of ihem j but in vain : a 
thousand explatiations occurred, but 
none of them I felt at all satisfactory ; 
that there wm some mystery some- 
where, I had no doubt ; for I remarked 
all throu^'h that Lord Kilkee laid 
some stress upon my identity, and even 
seemed surprised at my being in such 
banishment, " Oh,"* thought 1 at last, 
"his lordship is about to get up pri- 
vate theatrical*, and has seen my Cap- 
tain Absolute or perhaps my Hamlet 
— I could not say * Othello' even to 
myself*— and Is anxious to get 'such 
unrivalled talent' even * for one night 
only/** 

Afler many guesses this seemed the 
nearest I could thiuk of; and by tfie 
time I had finished my dressing for 
dinner, it wus quite clear to me 1 had 
solved all the secret of his lordship's 
attentions. 

The drive to •• Callonby" was beau- 
tiful beyond anything I had ever seen 
in Ireland ; for upwards of two miles 
it led along the margin of the lofly 
cliffs of Moghcr, now jutting out Inli 



J 



IB370 



Cftapter IL — KUrush. 



157 



\ 



boM proinoiitoncs, and again retreating 
und forming smitll bays and mimic 
harbours, into whicb the heavy swell 
of th« broad Atlantic was rolling its 
deep blue tide. The evening was per- 
fectly caini» and at u little distance Irom 
the shore the syrt'ace of liie sea was 
without a rijiple. The only sound break- 
ing the solemn 6tilUif;ss of the honr» was 
the beuvy plifcih of the waves^ as in 
uiluute neals they rolled In upon the 
pebbly beacli, and brought back with 
them ttt eueh relreiit, some of the larger 
)iud ^m not her stones, whose noise, us 
thi*y lell back into old ocean's bed, 
mingled with the din of the breaking 
jarf. In one of tbe miitiy little 
MVB 1 passed, lay three or four 
•fling smacks* The saiU were drying, 

_Dd flapped lazily .igaiiist the masL 1 
could see the figures of the men as 
they passed backwards and forwards 
upon the decks, and ultbongh the 
height was n<^ar 800 feet, could bear 
their voices quite distinctly. Upon the 
golden strand, which was slill marked 
with a deeper tint, where the tide had 
washed, stood a little white cottage of 
some fisherman — at least, so the net 
before the do<ir bespoke it. Around 
it stood some children, whose many 
voices and langliing tones sometimes 
reached me where 1 was standing* I 
could not but think, as I looked down 
from my lofty eyrie, npon that bttle 
group of bouts, and that lone hnt, how 
much of the '* world'" to the hmnble 
dwelltir beneath, lay in thai seelndrd 
and narrow bay. There, the deep sea, 
jrbere their days were passed in **storin 

aSX sunshine/^ there the humble home, 
w*here at night they rested, and around 
whc>se hearth lay itll their cares aini 
ali their jo^'s* How far, how very far 
removed tiom the bu^y haunts of men, 
and all the struggles and conteniioi^s iff 
I he ambitious world ; and yet how 
short-sighted to suppose that even they 
had not their griefs and sorrows, and 
that their humble lot was devoid of the 
inheritance of those woes whieh all are 
heirs «o. 1 turned sorrowfully from 
file tiea-^hore to enter the gate of the 
rk, and my path in a few momenta 
i comijletely screened from all 
ret of the ^ea, as though it liad 
ain miles inland. An avenue of tall 
and ancient lime trees^ so dense in 
their shadows as nearly to conceal the 
road beneath, led for above a mile 
tiirough a beautiful lawn, whose sur- 
faee« gently undulating and studded 
with young clumps, was doited over 
with sheep. At length descending by 



a very steep road, I reached & beau- 
tiful little stream, over which a rustic 
bridge was thrown. As 1 looked down 
upon the ripjiling stream beneath, on 
the surface of wliich, the dusky even- 
ing flies were dippitjg, I made a re- 
solve, if 1 prosjiercd in hi^ Lordship's 
good graces, to devote a day to the 
*' ungle," there, before I left the coun- 
try. It was now growing htte, and 
remembering Lord Kilkee's intimation 
of ** sharp seven," 1 threw my reins 
over my cob. '*8ir Roger'ji" neck, (for I 
hdd hiiherio been walking,) a ud can- 
tered up the steep hill before me. 
When 1 reached the top, 1 found my- 
self upon a broad table lanii, encircled 
by old and well-grown timber, and at 
n distance, most tasiefully half concealed 
by ornamental planting, 1 could catch 
some gliraiise of Callonby. Belbre, 
however, I had time to look about me 
I beard the tramp of horses' feet be- 
hind^ and in another moment two la- 
dies dashed up llie sleep lichind, and 
came towards me, at a smart gallop, 
tbllowed by a groom, wliu neitljcr 
himself nor bis horse seemed to relish 
the pace of his fair mistresses. I moved 
ort' tne road into the grass to permit 
them to pass j but no sooner had they 
got abreast of me, than Sir Hoger, 
aniious for o fair start, tiung up both 
heels at once, pricked up his ears, and 
with a plunge that very nearly threw 
me from the saddle, set offal lop speed, 
ftly first thought was for the ladies be- 
side me, and to my utter horror, I now 
«iiw them coming along in full gallop ; 
their hor^Jts had got oil the r^ud, and 
were, to my thinking, become tpitte un- 
raantigeable, 1 endeavoured to pull np, 
but all in vain, tsir Roger had got the 
bii bti\>ecn bis teeih* a favourite trick, 
of his, jjnd 1 was pertcclly powerless 
to hold him by this iinie. They being 
mounted on thoroughbreds, got a lull 
neck before mr, and the pace was now 
tremendous. Un we all came, each 
horse at his utmost stretch ; they wore 
evidently gaining trom the better stride 
ot their cattle, and will it be bdieved, 
or shall 1 venture to acknowledge it in 
tbtsc my conlesstions, that \ who, a mo- 
rn t-nt before, would have give!i my bes-t 
chance of promotion, to be able to jiull 
in my horse, would uow have ^'piL-dged 
my dukedom" to be able to give Sir 
Roger one cut of the whip unobserved. 
1 leave it to the wise, to decipher the 
rathnaiet but such is the fact. It was 
complete steeple chasing, and my 
blood was up. On we came, and I 
now perceived that ubout two hundred 



158 



Confessions of Harry Larrequer^ 



[Frf. 



yunls b( r>re me slomj an iron grate unci 
f lifers, withfHit tiuy hpdj;e or wall on 
either side : bHure I c-mlii cnnjecture 
the m€'iiiiin*f nf sci slriiiip-c a thiufj- in 
the riti^In nf a lur*j^e luwu, I shw the 
njretiioi^t l\ufst^ now iwn or thrtrG 
li'Hitihs before I he other, still iii nd- 
Vimi-e of HIP, t;jk« i;\yo «»r thrt^e stitirt 
9'ndt'f:, :niil Jly ulioui ei:rht ftct over h 
miiik ft'ticc — the -pcond toUoweil in the 
sjirH' stUr', thi' riders sittii*^ iis *ite*iilily 
a?« ill Uie L'iillop. !t wiis now tiiy 
titrn, and I CMufV-s^ as I ueiin^d rlie 
dyke, I fitMriily wished luy^^lf well 
over it, for tlio very po^sihility of a 
"mistake," was mL*ddeniag^. Sir llf>tcr 
cume 0*1 at a ftltipfiiMLr put *% and when 
within I wo ymils of thf^ hriiik, rojie to 
it iuid ^!lei4^LMl it like ii deer. By tiie 
tiioe 1 had acrr>iijplij*h€il ilils ^Val» tiot 
the Il'9? to my a ili'tfatiioti, ihi^r hnth 
iiidie? had in rued in thr suddhs to 
watch me, tlicv were aheiidy far tii 
advance ; ttiey Keld on ^itill at tbo s<ime 
p»ict\ round a small co|ise which coti- 
ceuleii them an insrant, from my 
view, and vvhicli, when I passed [ 
perc^iv^d thtit they had jnst renclied 
the hall door, and were dtsniomitiiitr. 

On the steps stoofi a t-iH, elderly- 
lookiriir, gentleman-like ]ierson» whnin 
I ri!j:hlly eoiijeetv:rc<l Wiis his Lord- 
ship* I hewrd him Itinjlrinir heartily 
as 1 came up, 1 at hisi succeeded in 
getting Sir Rojrer to a canter, arnl when 
witiiin about twenty yards frtun where 
the group were Htaiiding. s|iTyiiir uW\ 
and hastened up to make my apologies 
as I best might fnr my onfurtunate 
ronawtiy» I was fortuiiately j^pared 
the awkwardness u^ \in explanation, Ibr 
his Lordsbiji approaching inc wllli liis 
Iiur»fl extended sai'l — 

*• Mr. Lorrefjuer is mos^t welcome at 
Cailhmhy. I e;mnt>t be mistaken, I am 
sure. I have [he pleasure of address- 
ing the nejibew cd my old friend. Sir 
Guy LorrrcjUer of Kit 'in. I am indeed 
mo«t hiippy to see you, and not the 
h^ss so, that y(Mi arc ^nfe and sonnd^ 
which, five minutes since, I assure 

yon I had my fears fur ^ 

l^efore I e<inhl assure Ids Lordship 
that my fears were all for my eoinpc- 
litors in the race— for such it really 
rns — he introduced me to the two la- 
dies, who were stdl «taiidine beside 
him — Lady Jane Calloidiy, Mr, Lur- 
reqner ; Lady Cutherine/* 

" Which of yon. young ladies, may 
I a^k, planned this escapitde, for I sc?e 
by yotir look«, it was no areident ?" 

** I think, papa." said Lady Jane, 
"you must question Mr« Lorrerpicr 



on that head ; he certj.Ui!v started 
first." 

** i confess, liidectf,** «aid I, •• *uch 
was ihc case/* 

*• Well, you must confer loo, you 
were distanced " said Lady June, 

His Lfirdstiip f;iiighed heiiftily, anrt 
I joined in hi"? mirth, feeling* iil ihe 
same time, most terribly provuked, to 
be f\u\tn^i\ on ^ueb a ruuttt r, t! at L u 
$tee]jle-chase bors-eimiii of the first 
watiT, should he twitted by a couple of 
young ladie?, on the ecore of a most 
manly exercise* " But eome," saiii his 
Lordship, '*the fir^t bell has run*f hmg 
since, and I am hoiging to usk Mr, 
Lfirre^jUer ull about inv old cullci*e 
friend of forty vears ago. So kdies 
hasten yotir t'oilet, ( beseech you, 

Willi thc^e words, bis Lord^hi]i 
taking my arm, led me into the draw- 
ing roonjg where we had not been 
many imuutes till we were joined by 
her ladyship, a tall stalely handsome 
wounni of a certain age ; resolutely 
benf upon \mi\\i both young and bcait- 
tiful, in ^plte uftimeand wtinkles ; her 
reception of me, tbcniuh not pos^rssing 
the frankness id' his lordship, was slid 
very p*dite, and intended to be eteii 
graetntis. I iiuw found by the reitr** 
rated enquiries for my old uncle Sir 
Guy. that he It was, and not Hamtet, 
to wbooi I owed my present notice, 
and I must Iticlude it among my con- 
fessions that it was the only advan- 
tage I ever derived from the relation- 
ship. After half an hour s aoxeeable 
elLitting,' the ladies entered, and then I 
had time to remark the eilrerae beauty 
of their aftpearjnce ; they were both 
wonderfully like, and except that Lady 
Jane wa^ taller and more womanly, it 
wonlfl have been ahnosl impossible to 
discriminate between them. 

Lady June Cidlonby was then about 
20 years of ag*', rather above ihe 
middle size, ami slightly en bon point ; 
her eye was of the deepest and mojit 
li([yid blue, ami rendered apparently 
darker, by long lashes of the blackest 
jet — for snob wms ihe ddnur of her b»ir, 
her nose slightly* but slightly, deviated 
from t!»e straightncsa of the Greek, 
and her upper lip w.is faultless, as were 
her mouth and chin ; the whole lower 
part of the face, from the perfect 
"chiselling,*' and from the carriage of 
her head, had certainty a great air of 
hauteur, but the extreme melting 
softness of bor eyes took from this, 
and when she spoke, there was a quiet 
earnest iiess in Iier mild and musical 
voice that disfurmcd you at once of 



I 



1837.] Modern Taum-Talk. 159 

connecting the idea of self with the the lovely figure before me," by his 

speaker; the word ^ raecinatiug" more lordship saying, ** Mr. Lorrequer, her 

than any other I know of, conveys the ladyship is \i ailing for yon.** I ac- 

♦-ffect oWier appearance, and to produce cordingly bowed, and, offering^ my 

it, she had mure than any other wo- arm, led her into the dinner-room, 

man 1 ever m^t, that wonderful gill. And here 1 draw rein for the present, 

the ** tart de plaire,** reseiving for my next chapter — My 

I was roused from my perhaps too Adventures at Callonby. 
earnest, because unconscious gaze, at 



MODERN TOWN TALK. 
COLLECTED BY TERENCE O'RUARK, A.M. 

About a century ago (I am not particular as to a vear or two) there did appear, 
to the singular edification of the judicious, and the great diversion of all, ** A 
Treatise on polite Conversation^ by Stmon Wagstoff, Esq,,** followed by *• a complete 
co/lection of genteel and ingenious conversation according to the most polite mode and 
method now used at court, and in the best companies of Engl/ind" I know not j nor 
care to inquire, whether these quaint titles be preserved in the modern editions 
of these celebrated works, but set them down as 1 find them, in certain goodly 
tomes, given to the world in the year 1736 at Dublin, by the worthy George 
Faulkner, alderman and stationer, and entitled " A Collection of the Author's 
Works,*' so that even then, Switl, or his friends, seem to have thought some 
caution necessary about the avowal of what he had written. Should I feel in a 
generous mood when I have done with these volumes, I may perhaps send them 
to that ingenious and energetic gentleman, Mr. Daniel 0*Connell, as a jiroot of 
what could be done in Dublin before the Union. Of a certain truth, there have 
no such books appeared sitice the union was solemnized or perpetrated, as the 
case may be, and if it be urged, on the other hand, that this was in the time of 
the penal laws, as well as of a separate Irish legislature — I need only reply that 
so are all the other evidences of peace, prosperity, and literary advancement, 
which mark the period of the real ante-union superiority. 

But that is beside the present matter, my object being now to state that 'a 
tecent perusal of the ** genteel and ingenious conversations," noted and com- 
piled by Mr. Wagstaff, has put into my mind (in consideration of the important 
changes which **time, the great innovator.*' hath wrought in such things) to lay 
before the public occasionally^ and as opportunity serves, my own modern col- 
Icetion, which I hope may be of some small advantage to those whose studies 
are not of a purely meditative and abstract character. Not that I mean any 
thing so impertinent as an imitation of that I have been reading, which would 
be, on every account, utterly absurd. It is no hyperbole to atiirm that the 
manner of Mr. Wagstaff is perfectly inimitable, and even if it >Kcre not, there 
are no materials in these smoothened times to work up with the ho))e of a suc- 
cessful affectation of that author's manner. Wagstatfs collection is the oddest 
imaginable agrgregation of vulgarisms, huddled together in a way at once so 
natural and so ludicrous, as to make one of the most diverting satires in the 
world. Thanks to the " enlightenment** of this age, however, we, who detail 
modem conversation, have no such coarse and -unprofitable smoothnesses to 
ex)>ose. Our ta k is of philosophy, politics, the fine arts — we are very careful 
not to say any thing merely for a laugh, and the few who do not find it conve* 
nient to be fluently didactic, can, at the least, display a remarkable talent for 
silence. Nor is this high intellectual level — this table land of mental puperiority 
--confined to a particular class. If the promising young gentleman of the clul)S 
drawls forth to you an opinion from the last pamphlet, or a fact firom the last 
parliamentary return ; your tailor*s refined utilitarianism is no less, when he 
talks to you sotto voce, of taking your measure on *!ge-o-metricar principles (it 
b no longer •*jommetricar as in WagstafTs day) or to go to the more robust 
profi^ssions (we must not say " trades** unless we speak of ** unions**) yon shall 
talk to a no-coated, leather-aproned smith or bricklayer, and instead of being 
answered with li wise-saw, as old as William the Third and as common as coals 



160 



MifdiTn Town-Taik* 



[Feb. 



in Newcattle, you are treated to a modern instance from the last lecture at the 
Mechanic's Institute; nay, without being- particularly lucky, you umy chance lo 
bave the iurorniation you desire concerning bricks or irun, garnished ^^^i\\ od^N 
vations of much pith and moment, on the political aspect of the tiiaei^ cuUed, 
with philusophic discrimination* IVoiii the last Sunday ** noospaper*** 

It is nuqntfslicmable that coidd I conceive myself gifted with a genius for dis- 
qnisiuun, 1 shfiuld be tempted to try soniethinor aflcr the numuer of th*' ioimiiable 
preHmiuary dissertation to the polite coi*versatiou j for anyihing^ more excellent 
than the air^unieut,or more flptighily tlian the manner, of thai most convincing and 
eutertuiiiin^ discourse, can nut be well imiigioed, nor is il at all lo be df^^paired 
of^ thkit much of what it eonluins, or something of the jjame sort, mi^ht profit- 
ably be applied to our moderu affairs. But the truth is, that I lack that present 
coTilideoe^ in my powers which might conduct me into such an enterprise, and 
I ratbf r await the encoura^emeni of the pubbc for whnse v(cal, and under whose 
encouragement, t krtow uot what there is that I might not tittempt, uor (al- 
teniptiutr with a bohl und willing heart) not <^ucceed in, Bnt this is for another 
time, when (under the encouragement aforesaidj 1 may, both by written 
words, and |tmj)er plans, and drawings, set fortn the whole programme of 
modf rn polite behaviour uf bnth ladies and genlleinen trmn the mi*st important, 
even to the uuimtcst [larticulars ; since 1 am free to confess, thut these matters 
have been much my study. I have cspicially noted the most approved methods 
of biking a seat f *r the first time in the Houses of Lord? and Commons, due 
instructiLiu in which, as regards the latter, would be of iht greatest service in 
these times to gentlemen from the manufacturing to^us. Tlic vnrious modr'sof 
recognition nud (which is n still mure dcheate branch of art) of non-reci>^)ition 
have obtuiucd my diligent attention ; of recognition, from the nod-distant and 
severe, to the nod-gracious, accompanied by that mysterious twitter of the 
fingers, which dcnoteth more than wordi can; of non-rccognitioii, from the 
simply turning aside, and not mtiiciug, to the stare direct, or ** cut-dead" which 
CAM dv ** no mistake," and which annihilates all hope. The most approved 
manner of riding in a carringe, I shall he. qualitied to teach to the ladies, from 
the reclining lyijig-abed Ikshion, appropriate to ofjen carriages, and the noon- 
day, to the upright posinre winch in clofee carriages, and at night* preserves in 
its most agreeable fohJs, the dress which is to be worn until the morning. These 
may serve as hints of the various things which, were I encouraged to become a 
teacher, I flatter myself I might under takt^ with (us Lord Althorp used to say) 
credit to myself, and 1>enefit to I he public ; but for the present I am a mere 
furnisher of examples, from which tlie judicious reader must pick out such 
instruction or eutertainment as he can, 1 have only a word to add, which is by 
way of apology for introducing politic?, but not to do so is wholly out of the 
question, since to make a nuidern coiiversiition without politics, is as impossiblo 
as it would be to make a cojt without broad cloth, or a book without puper. It 
is, however, my custom to hear all sides with equal attention, and 1 urn the most 
impartial of ciironicler?, as will be on all hands admitted, by those who read the 
following conversations : — 

gctr^K — .T^te Aihriarum Chih Hoft,^f\ TiMt; — MidxumuirT, rfrven o\-ivrk^ A>M, 
Present — L(mi Eastf, G^iotul Fashion^ Mr. FvtbicwU and Mr, Bluff, Brcak-^ 
frtti on a (abic. 

CuL F, My lord, there is a tradition ass for his pains, had something coming 
of the strangest sort concerning you on at the very last, for whicn I was 
going about this morning. obliged to stay and vote. 

Lord E, The deuce, there is I what Col F. A comfortable night you 



is it? 

OJ* F. They say von were seen in 
the park at seven oVlock iliis morning 
— nothing xerkm&, I hope ? 

Lord E* Nothing more than being 



must have had of it — you did^nt sUiy 
in the house, surely '^ 

Lord E. Yes 1 did^I fell asleep 
just alter twelve — 1 have a sort of con- 
fused recollection of hearing Potter 



kept up in that abominable House of and Poulter, and Parret and Pease 

Commons all night. jabljcring awav at something or ano- 

Cd/* F. They did'nt sit *tilJ seven ther, but luckily there was no divisioq, 

^'^.|^(*I; — did they V and from the time of Pease 1 recollect 

Lord E. No, hut they did till past nothing until haH-past two, when a 

three, and my collcague/who is a great shocking uncouth noise awoke me, and 



1837;] 



Modem Town- Talk. 



161 



I fbond it was that strange person, 
Roebuck, addressing the house. 

CoL F. What was he talking about ? 

Lord E, I have not the least idea — 
he was literally addressing the house — 
for there were not two dozen people in 
it, and they all seemed, like myself, 
more than half asleep — the very' can- 
dles seemed overcome with drowsiness. 

Col. F. Well ! but what di«i vou do 
from three to seven — for you haven't 
solved the mystery yet ? 

Lord E, VVhy that wild youngster, 
my cousin Tom, who*s always at some 
odd prank or another, bolted in just in 
time for the division at three o'clock, 
and when I t(»ld him of the nap I had 
had, he insisted I would be sick of the 
unwholesome air I had slept in, if I 
didn*t take a drive into the country, 
and so he carried me off to Blackheath, 
to see the sun rise. Tve done nothing 
so extravagant these seven years. 
Coming home I happened to say to 
Tom, that I wanted to sec the Duke 
of Wellington, and he advised me to 
walk into the park where I would be 
pretty sure to meet him taking his 
morning walk ; and so I did. 

Col. F, Well, if that's the solution 
of the mystery, you had better send 
round to the eveniug papers to say 
that you were not fighting a duel — for 
depend on it sundry portentous para- 
graphs are under manufacture at this 
moment. 

Lord E. Confound them, let them 
paragraph what they will. The news- 
papers in this country have become a 
nuisance — dont yoil think so ? It is 
one of the luxuries of being abroad, 
that you neither know nor are sup- 
posed to know anything about news- 
papers. 

Col, F, You dont mean France ? 

Lord E. No ; they're a greater nui- 
sance there, at least in Paris ; they 
were so when I was last there, but 
things arc altered in Paris, and Louis 
Philippe sees that he will never be 
settled until he settles the newspapers 
— no — I alluded to Italy and Austria. 

Mr. Bluff. I dont agree with you. 
Lord Easy. I hate newspapers as 
much as you do, because they tell lies, 
and perplex what ought to be plain ; 
but I've no notion of being in a coun- 
try where a man may not print what 
is true, if it docs not happen to please 
the government. 

Lord E. I assure you. Bluff, that 

if you saw how smoothly affairs go on 

there, I doubt if you'd think so ; — but 

that, you know, is ctUre nous, I am 

Vol. IX, 



on the liberal side of the hedge, in po- 
litics; but 1 begin to think it will be 
deuced hard to get out of the field, and 
not very pleasant to stay in it. 

Mr. Bluff. I thought you would 
come to that o;)iuion by degrees. 

[yi brief silence ensues^ during which 
breakfast is devoured. The servant 
brings in a letter and delivers it to Col. 
Fas/lion.] 

Colonel F. A black seal I Who's 
dead? let me see. Ah, here's a cousin 
of mine gone. Hum ! Out fishing — 
caujrht cold — three days' illness — 
Well ! / never fish. A stupid amuse- 
ment it is, I think, standing up to one's 
middle in the water, sometimes. — 
There's good shooting, however, on 
the property. Easy, will you come 
down with me in August? George 
Fashion's house and grounds come 
into my hands now, and I dont know 
any better shooting quarters so near 
town. 

Lord E. You may book me to go, 
if you wont ask more than two be- 
sides. 

Colonel F. Agreed. I must go down, 
I supj)Ose, to the funeral ; but 1 shall 
be up in town again immediately, and 
will take you do^/vn with me when I re- 
turn. 

Lord E. Very well. 

Colonel F, Feeblewit, how do you 
like being in parliament ? 

Mr. Feeblewit. I cant exactly say ; 
I like it middling. It is not exactly 
what I expected. In bhort — a— 
I dont know. That is, of course, I 
like the principle of the thing, but the 
details are not so pleasant. 

Colonel F. What have you been 
reading for this hour in that news- 
pa |){»r ? 

Mr. Feeblewit. I have been only 
looking over last night's debate. 

Colonel F. I thought you had been 
in the house. 

Mr. Feeblewit. So I was. 1 wanted 
to go out several times, but some one 
always desired me to stay. 

Colonel F. But what do you want to 
read the debate for, if you heard it ? 

Mr. Feeblewit. So many people 
spoke that they confused me. Besides, 
I always understand best what 1 read. 

Colonel F. But you understood 
enough to know which way to vote, 
didn't you ? 

Mr. Feeblewit. O yes! I was at 
Lord John Russell's yesterday, and he 
explained to us the principle of what 
was to come on in the evening ; so I 

M 



16i 



Modern Town-TalL 



[Feb. 



bad my mind made up about my vote, 
but I he details were rather puzzling. 

Ciikmel F, Hdvc you spoken in the 
house yet ? 

Mr. Feebleunt. Yes ; but wliat I 
said was not reported* I think that 
was very iinluir. 

Cokmci F. Most undoubtedly. But 
was the speech long- 1* 

Afr. FeebifU'it. No ; it wa* very 
abort. 1 did prepare a long speech, 
for which I reaa a great deal, and 
iBiide extract* j but my lather adviiied 
me to show it ti> Mr. O'Cnnnell and 
Mr- Hum**, bctbre 1 9puke it, und they 
advised me apiio^t k, 

Cohnei F, Sheer envy, beyond cjiiei*- 
tion. They were afraid you would 
eclipse them hoih. 

Mr. Fechkwit, Oh ud! I am pretty 
lure — at least ] lliiiik ii could not be 
thut J though I do think that ihey 
think there is nothinsr blie what they 
do them^telves* Rut it wu^s their opi- 
nion that^ iF I put my speech iu the 
form of a letter to my con^tiloeiits, 
and printed it in a pu.mphlet, it mi^bt 
<lo me nusre jjood. 

Cohnei F. The cunning- dogs ! — 
Wei!, and did yon do so? 

Mr. FeehiemL Yes ; but us I bad 
not been used to writiug tor prints you 
know, my father wruie to a young man 
in the Temple, a cousin of hia junior 
partner, to look it over. 

Colonel F. And did he? 

Mfr* FeeiffetviL Yes, and it was then 
printed, and sent down to my consli- 
tuents. and very weil received, 

Ciiitmrl F. What was it about? 

Mr, Frcb/ewit* Oh, the reform prin* 
eiplPj fif course. I showed the neces- 
sity of w-oinor fnr^-ard with the prin- 
ciple, but I did not enter into the de- 
tails. 

Cohnef F, You were very right. 
Why does not your father represent 
the borough himself? 

Afr, Fechfrwit. He thought of it ot 
fimr \ but he ha^n*t time, without ne- 
glectina^ bis husinrss, 

Cohnei F. So he told them to elect 
you. 

Mr. Ferhhuni. He gave them a 
holiday, and a dinner, and spoke to 
theiT> about it, 

Mr. BInf. Pmv, Mr. Feeble wit. 
how mmy of the •-lertor*' of your bo- 
ronsrh are in ynur fMthcr*s employ ? 

Air Frvbkwii. One h una red und 
ei'jhty^even. 

Mr. Bhiffi And how many are there 
altogelher? 



Afr. FecbhwiL Two hundred and 

thirty-three. 

Air. Binff. His interest, then, must 
be tolerably decisive V 

Mr. Ftcblewit. Yes, I should thtnfc 
it is J but thftt^ you know* is not the 
principle. The principle ia, that they 
elect whi^m they please. Whateirer 
interest my father may buve belongt 
to the details. 

Cohnei F. Just SO, Feeble wit, I 
don\ know any man who draws a dl^ 
tinction better than yon do. 

Atr. Ftrtbtewlt. lam prf>ud of your 
gfMid opinion. I have not [>as:<ed so 
pleasiunt a morning for siuiie time. I 
think breakfast rather a pleasant meal; 
and then, to avail oneself of the op- 
portunity for rati cm al political conver- 
sution« — I like thut principle. 

Colonel F, Upon my word, I think 
that the case you mention is one 
worthy of afiprobntion both in prin- 
ciple and in it^ douila. Don't yuu 
think BO, Feeble wit Y 

Afr. FtrblewiL I think so. As to 
the principle, 1 am contident of it ; — 
but 1 hijve a committee to attend at 
twelve, so I nnust go. 

[He h'uit ^'Gimi vmning,** and gon oui.] 

Air. Bluff, There goes as great a 
fool as ever walked without a header. 

Colonel F. My deiir sir, he will 
go us far as Downiug-street withotit 
one. 

Lfird E, That's good. 

Air. Bluff, That's true. 

[A cloud mlervenetf dnniig tMch Unte 
gnlhpi on to the Jirtt week in De^ 
tx-mlnr : the ive^ne chattgei to iht 
Ciffee-raom of the Royal HutcU St* 
Jame«n-dreei \ prenent* n» he/ore^ 
Lord KuKt/t Air, Fetbtrwlt^ Cotonci 
FtiAhiim^ and Air. Bluff.] 

Lurd E. \\y what miracle do yoa 
happen to be in town at this time of 
the year, Fashion ? 

Cohnei F. I have been blown hi- 
ther, 1 was driven out of Brighton 
by the wind : my house was unroofed; 
ray peiice disturbed; my domestic* put 
into ill-hiimour. I am here oii my 
way into Warwickshire, 

Lord E. It was indeed, (as I «n- 
deri*trtnd the man who keeps the me- 
teorological register for the Royal Srw 
ciety has notcil it,) " rnther d hi|:H 
wind.** I was on the rotnl. und would 
niidouhtedly have been blown into owe 
of the deepest ravines in KenI, had 
not my man, who is an oh) soldier, 



ier. ^ 
only m 
hoi^fl 

I 



1837.] 



Modern Towu-Taik. 



163 



jumped down from hehlnd, and opeitetl 
the carriafie-door, so as to let the 
storm piis.^ through. 

Cohnei F* \i f iceedetl anything nf 
the soit I i'ver 9^v>\ antl put mv. in 
intod of Dick Merlin's story of ihn 
fltorm in Dublin. 

Lord E, Whdt was that? 
Colonel F, Huvi^iTt you heard him 
tell it? He ufled to begin it with a 
loDg account of thn glonifi of Dublin 
before the Union, the a[iirit oF the par- 
liamentary dcbtttes, and the splendur 
of the evening ttsseaiblies of the mai 
Irish nobility and gentry. From thence 
he led you on to a gmnd assembly of 
the ma^fuenide kind, at a place he 
called the Rotunda ; which I siippo^ie 
\t iUe ** Willis's Rooqvs" of Dublin- 
Sack ville-street, he said, was thronged 
with the carriages in wuiting, when 
iuddeuly a wind arosp, of such vio- 
lence thiit nothing coyhl etaivd or sit 
li*f*»re it. The couchmen, said Dick, 
were carried oft' their botes* and there 
you might Bee them flying about in the 
K vtr* over Saekvilhvstreetj like larks I 
P ^ Lord E. Ha ! ha I very like larks, I 
^ <iare »ay. Poor Dick ! Docs Brighton 
fill this peiiion V 

tW. K Yes ; a great many people ; 
but t dont think it*<i what it u^ed to he. 
Lord E, No. Hiiw is the Kltti' ? 
Ctd. F, Not quite so well, 1 ihink, 
at he was at Wiiidsor in the summer, 
bat tolerably heart y^ us he would say 
Htinf^elff not withstanding. Better than 
you or ( will be, I Hare «uy, at his age^ 
if we weather the world so long. 

Lard E, He will come up, to open 
mtiiament, 1 suppoi^e. 

C&L F Doubtless. He likes that 
tort of ihingt or did, and he feel;* it to 
a doty, while he can. 
Lord B, How does he get on with 
r (Tienrl» in Downing-street ? 
CoL F. O jusi the same. He lovfs 
them not, and they know it. I give 
tfTY little attentii'U to politics, but the 
tiilk that nne can\ hrlp hearing Uuds 
to the belief that there will be a blow- 
iij» ctf p^ditical combinators. 

L<>rd E* Yc9 ; it does not seem at 
all probable that things can go ou in 
Ihcir [tresent way much longer. 

Mr, Bluff, Thev have gone on too 
long alreaity. It ts most disgraceful 

Lord E. You are such a down- 
right partiiJin, Bliitf, that you will give 
u* enlightened reformers no sort of 
quarter ; but do tjo on and tell us what 
youi party say will happen to us. 

Mr, Blnffl I do xmi speak as a 
ftrty man, I have nothing to do with 



9m 



either one party or another ; hut I 
was brought up in habits of respect for 
the British constitution, and my own 
understanding has coritirmed the feel- 
ing whieh Was early inculcated upon 
me. t dti feel strongly for the honour 
and glory of old Enitlwnd, and I repeat 
that the government !i.»s ol" late been 
carried on in a most di?igraccrul man- 
ner. , 

Lord E, But are yon not a little 
loo warm ? I don*t mean to say that 
thiikgs have been managed just as they 
should be, but there hi«ve been diffi- 
cult eirc urn stances to deal with, and 
times are not as they were. 

AIn Bhiff But what has made the 
difficult circuniPtances? The total 
absence of tlirect and honest policy on 
the part of miuistt-rs. There is not 
the slightcsL indication that the govern- 
ment has been guided by any sound 
and settled principle of policy. 

Lord E. Con«iider, Bluff, the com- 
position of the present House of Com- 
mons. I^linisters cannot aminiftnd a 
majority as they used to do, and I he 
iiberul mass is made up of a great 
variety of shades of opinion. If an 
open and direct line be taken and ad- 
hered to, how can you hope to escape 
off tending some of the liberal body ? 

Mr. Bluff. If I were a British minis- 
ter, I sliould have no puch hope, nor 
wish, nor expeitation ; hut neither 
should [ have any fear of the conse- 
quences of giving such olfence, A 
minister is not to accommodate him- 
stelf to all the various fr;»gmetits of fac- 
tion, or folly, or scllishness, that he 
finds in the House of Commnna. If 
he attrmpts to do so» he becomes the 
sla^e ol the influence* in that honse^ 
instead of j;oiding them as the Kir]g*3 
minister ought. But bow di^es the 
uiatbT stand? The minister tiiids that 
among the English members even of 
his own party tin-re are a good many 
that he cannot at all time^<^ reckon up- 
on, tnen that he cannot persnade, and 
d;ire t>ot attempt to coerce. , What 
then dr»e^ he do if* He takes such an 
utiprincipled l>lnsterer as OTonndl 
into hi* pM' — he gets the votes of that 
men and his infamous tail, without any 
fcLir of the sernjiles of independence 
rising up against him, and he hands over 
in exchange the government of Ireland 
to a rude, gross, popish enemy of Great 
Britain. Is not that disgraceful 't 

Lord E, I do think the coalition 
with 0*ConncU was upon the whole 
jmjioljtic. 

Mr, Bluff, Impolitic! 



Mta^ 



164 



Modem Town* Talk. 



[Feb, 



Lord A\ Yes. It was resolved upon 
for the sake of accomplishing art im> 
mediitte |jyrpoae, and without a vitjw, 
or at all events, a sagacious view, to 
futyre conseqncnces. No nun am 
calmly considiT trCotuielFs character, 
without perceivin^r that he must be- 
come an ohji-ct of ^us^nciou and di^^gust 
to the British nation. The vcrsutility, 
the extravagance, the Ciiiit and noii- 
8ens€, tlie personal auimo/^itica, and 
the scurrilous iuduljroiioe of theai* 
which answer so well with the Irish 
Koman Catholic populutioii in iheir 
firestmt state* cannot succeed wilh a 
people so ililicreutly constituted us ure 
the Enelish. O' Co r^n ell's aid hits 
mined the miui^try iu England* 

Mr, Bluffl hi* even so, and tin?, I 

doubt not he foresaw, though ihcg (iid 

not. They are now wholly in his 

power, anj it is evident that he b 

> making a dcanerate exertion to show 

that through his power I hey may keep 

' their places^ But he is wrong -^t he 

diagust of Enj^Lind will be loo strong' 

for him, I do not think ihat any cx- 

' ertion of his cunninar will remove the 

growing detestation of O'Connell among 

the sincere radicals of Englund. 

Lord East/, I have seen the pamphlet 
of that slran^e wild countryman uf his, 
who was in the House for a short time, 
Mr. Feargna O'Connor. He lays about 
him like a man with a flnil. His ex* 
posure of O'Connell will have a great 
effect with the sturdy radical mulii- 
tude, 

Mr. Bluff, And so will the wrilinf,'- 
of Mr, BeH of the ** I^ondon Mercury," 
with the more intellig'ent of the same 
party* 

Mr, FccblewiL Tlie '* Times'* is very 
severe on Mr. O'ConnelL 

CoL Fmfmtu And the " Morning 
Post." 

LordE. And the "Morning Herald.*' 

Mr^ Bluff. But that very English 
journal, the " Morning Chronicle" sup- 
ports him. 

Lcrd E. I cannot bear that news- 
paper, thoug;h it au[iports the ministry 
— it is so shockingly ill written. 

Mr. Bluff, Crown and Anchor elo- 
quence, and Stock Exchange principles. 

Mr, Feebkwii. Is it true. Lord Easy, 
that Lord PalmcrstoD writes arlieles 
for the " Globe ?' 

Lord E, 1 really don't know, 

Mr, Bluff, And I don't care. 

Lord E. Nor does any body whose 
anxiety upon any subject is worth a 
itraw. Official people are generally 
the last to conamunicatc publicly any 



piece of news ; and as to the political 
iirgument of a newspuper, it must be 
judged liy its own merits^and it matters 
not whether Lord Pabiierston or the 
printer's devil has written it. 

Air, Bluff Judgitjg from the usual 
style of the lernhng articles of the 
** GJolW I should SLiy they were 
written by W"*tmen. 

Lord E, How do you tneaii ? 

Mr. Bluff, There is no earnestness 
abofJt principles and a great deal about 
persons — there is scarcely a trace even 
of party sfjirir, but there is a most 
offensive redundancy of personal spite. 

CoL F. That is not very comnli- 
metitary to the women» Mr. Bluff. What 
would you say if I publish your female 
characteristics, and put your name to 
the publication? 

Mr, Bluff, I meant women of the 
worser sort. 

CoL F, Was it not the " Globe'* that 
proclaimed that it hardly kuew to which 
pnrty it belonged, and that whether the 
Whigs were a piutv in the country or 
no, was lUJt wort a the pains of in- 
quiry ? 

Mr, Bluff, It was. 

Lord E, That was gross imperti- 
nence. It is very well for you and 1, 
Fashion, who see the hurrdjug of politi- 
cal people, to be po(^ curanti as to these 
matters, but a newiipaper which has no 
other vocation than politics, is exces- 
sively absurd wlien it affects irtdifier- 
ence about political parties* That sort 
of foppery in any publication suspected 
to be connected with govcmraent, does 
us mischief. But enough of this, 
Feeblcwit, how does it happen timt you 
are not dining with your constituents? 
1 tl ought so devoted a politician as you 
are would be buried in study, and 
courting your constituents until the 
meeting of the House. 

Mr, Fee file wit That was ray inten- 
tion, but my ftither heard there were 
to be two or three new commissions 
instituted at the nickeling of Parliament, 
and he wished me to make an early 
personal application to Lord John 
Kussell, 

Lord E, What, then, arc you fo be- 
come a commi«sioner ? 

Mr FeetlewU, Oh do, 1 applied for 
my brother — he was called to the bar 
a few months ago, and as the attorneys 
have not begun to employ him yet, 
my father thinks he might as well have 
a commissionership to occupy him and 
put some money in hi!^ pocket. 

Mr. Blvff. A provident gentleman ! 

Mr* Feeble wiL My father thought 



I 



1837.] 



Modem Toum-Talk. 



165 



this a Tciy good time to apply, and 
sent me up to town for the purpose. 

Lord E. I dare say ; and have you 
succeeded ? 

Mr, FeeblewU, No. Lord John says 
that nothing is yet arranged. I am to 
see him again in a few days. 

Mr, Bluff, I can well believe that 
nothing is yet arranged. 

Lord E, FeeWewit, what do you 
think of the state of our foreign policy ? 

Mr. FeeblewU, Why, as to foreign 
policy — a — I really have not much at- 
tended to the details, but — a — I un- 
derstand that in Spain our moral in- 
fluence is very important 

Lord E, You allude, I suppose, to 
the example of patience set by Evans 
and his legion — the cool steadiness 
with w hich he abides the sneers of all 
Europe. 

Mr, FeeblewU, I suppose that's it ; 
but the moral influence is the only 
thing of which I have heard. 

Lord E. Do you think that ** moral 
influence" will stop Don Carlos ? 

Mr. FeeblewU. I suppose that is 
what is meant. 

Mr, Bluff. I should prefer the physi- 
cal influence of the bayonet, to the 
moral influence of keeping out of the 
way when an enemy is to be encoun- 
tered. 

Mr. FeeblewU. I don't know the 
particulars, but I was told by one of 
the proprietors of the " Morning 
Chronicle," who said he had been at the 
Foreign Office only two hours before, 
that the important thing in Spain was 
our moral influence. 

Mr, Bluff. Moral fiddlestick ! 

CoL F, Has any body seen Lord 
Brougham since he came into this part 
of the world ? What is he going to do 
for the ministers ? 

Lord E, I hear he has become so 
profound and dignified, that no one 
knows what to make of him. The 
newspaper chatter about pitting him 
against Lyndhurst, is all nonsense. 
1 he ex-chancellors will be more likely 
to embrace than to fight, you may de- 
pend upon it. They are very good 
friends, and respect one another's ex- 
traordinary talents very sincerely. 

Mr, Bluff. Is it supposed there 
will be a committee of the Lords on 
the new Poor Law ? 

Lord E. I have not heard, but if 
there be a committee of one liouse, it 
is probable there will be of the other. 
If that subject be mentioned, there 
will be a blaze from Brougham, no 



doubt; he glorifies his Poor Law phi- 
losophy very exceedingly. 

Mr. Bluff. I recollect his speech 
upon the Bill, and I heard it was af- 
terwards sent about by the secretary 
of the commission as a true exposition 
of Poor-Law philosophy. 

Lord E. So it was ; but that re- 
minds me that I have to lunch with 
Lady Rightem; I must go. 

Col. F, I shall go with you. Is her 
ladyship as great a politician as ever ? 

Lord E. Worse and worse. I am 
in great favor with her, because I have 
transferred to her all my printed par- 
liamentary papers, which used to accu- 
mulate in my rooms till they were 
quite a nuisance. It is a great relief 
to me, and she is quite pleased. I be- 
lieve that she reads them ail. But you 
shall hear her: come away. 

Col. F. Mr. Bluff, will you come 
with us, and we shall introduce you to 
a lady who is a very great politician. 

Mr. Bluff. I hate lady politicians. 

CoL F. A most scientific political 
economist. 

Mr, Bluff. I detest political econo- 
mists. 

CoL F. One who knows Lord 
Brougham's speech on the Poor Laws 
by heart, and has studied all Miss 
Martineau's pretty little books as ear- 
nestly as ever young barrister did hb 
first brief, or young lady her first love- 
letter. 

Mr, Bluff. The name of Lord 
Brougham makes me angry, and that 
of Miss Martineau makes me sick. 

CoL F. Well, then we leave you— 
addio. {They go out.) 

Lady Rightem^s House — present, her 

iadysh^), Mr. Jonet, Lord Easy^ and 

Colonel Fashion, 

Lady R. The proper study of man- 
kind is 

CoL F. Man. 

Lady R. No. I was not going to 
quote Pope — though I must say that 
were I to quote any poeU it probably 
would be him, for he appears to have 
had the faculty of reasonings more than 
any other of the tribe ; but I spoke of 
that science — that useful and practical 
science, as Lord Brougham admirably 
says, founded on facts, and papers, anil 
documents, which relate to the most 
important concerns of society — I mean 
political economy. 

CoL F. I beg your ladyshij)'s par- 
don — pray, did you see the portrait of 
Miss Martineau that was exhibited at 
the Roval Academy ? 



1G6 



Modern Town' Talk* 



[Fek 



b 




Ludtf R. Yes. ctrtaiuly^ — it \*aa ihe 
firnt ijicturt: ui which 1 luukeii. 

J^ii//y /?. Yc« — what is a fat monk 
(tf the olden Ume^ of the plimder iit 
his tWt, tr> mp> eoinpuri'd with the 
rouirlpiiaiicc of one who has etilizht- 
pnotJ thr htiiiian r^cii on the mo^l ini- 
portdni nl'tmihs? 

tVf/. F, Y(?!!i, tTrtuiiily^ you ar« 
rijiht— voii Ihou^fit the cuuiiteiiuuee 
prtUy ? — armal»le-lot>kiiig — eh ? 

Lathf R. No, bui snpt^iiur to eitht-r, 
very intfllectu^il. 

Cof. F, What! "^u>rly iind i n It'll cc- 
tii[(l ?" iii^ sonui one ^iU in de^cnhingJT 
lirimgham'is mUcscnbuUe tkue. 

/*w/ji^ R, I did riot say ** ugly/' 

Alf, Jmtet. No, I r<* marked thut 
your kdyshtp sai<) "intellrctun! ;** wtth 
dt^ference tn Colcmel Fashion, 1 shonld 
sav that I do nol recoIl<^ct the epithf t 
" ugly." 

VuL F, Well! we\\\ Fray, Lady 
Kig litem, do yoy ret oil tret the nrtvttj 
thing the Tttuvi oewspaper said of MUs 
Martineau ? 

Ladif H, No^ — but j should like to 
hear what the itiHueultiii (jre&s said uf 
Etich a person. 

CoL F. They deseribeti her as — 

•• Henelf Um? itnemt preventive check ili« dmri/' 

L'ultf H, Psha ! men endeavour to 
fnakethdt ridietilouei. whiuh they would 
fain eieel, hot cannot. 

Lord E, Pray, Lady Rightem, is it 
true what they say, that the best bits of 
Lord Brougham'^ Hpeech about the 
Poor Law'B, were borrowed from Miss 
Martrnean? 

L^dt/ U. I cannot say that I ob- 
served any passag^e^ iiteiaihf Ijorrowed, 
did you Mr* Jones ? 

Mr. Joiwa, No — na your ladyship 
observes, ttfid with ileterence to the 
observation of Lord Eiisy, I should say 
not li/traify, 

Ladtf H. Of coiir^se, when great au- 
thorities speak upon the same i^cicnee, 
they are likely to fall into uLiitemeuts 
&o me what stniikr. 

Lord E, Some of the maxims laid 
down by Lord Bronghiim appear to me 
riithrr startling— indeed 1 mti^ht use a 
strong'er expression, did 1 notgro in Tear 
of being- classed with the **grovellingly 
ignoranC who alone, a^ his lordship 
s.iys, falter tn their allegiance to poli- 
tical economy. 



Lmi^ R, What are tlic pointA to 
\ihich yon allude V 

Lord E, He said that nil statutes fur 
the relief of ih** poorjViereniisehievou*; 
that tiie law empowering overaeere to 
set noor people to work, and tf they 
CiUihl not find work, to liml fot»d for 
them, WHS (tf pemicioui a law at ever 
u'tlj made* 

Lady R, tjuile right — ^j perfectly sci- 
entific. 

Lord E, He said that the onUf fafe 
kitid of ehurity was an hospital for 
mcuitntx — he doubted that dispensaries 
f'^r the sick poor were not an uhii«e, and 
agaioHt sonnd principle — the eharilatde 
support of the infirm and jHKtt\ he said, 
he wjis quite certain Wiis against all 
sound jfirinripie* 

Lady U. Perfectly right — quite sci- 
enlific. 

Lurd E> Does not all this seem nip 

ther hard-hearted, 

I^adt/ R. Hea»on is the high eft fa- 
culty of mind — the demonstrations ai 
reason are to he preferred to the sug- 
gestions ot feeling. Ilurd^heartcdnefts 
is hot another name for suprrknrUy 
these suggestions. 

Lord E. Some would say iwefuribUit^ 
to them. 

Liid^ R, Sensibility and insensibility 
are unphilosophlcal tertns. 

Li^rd E. But I have not done — 
Lord Brongham said, the greatest 
w retchedness of the poor was the being 
tormented with the ills of riches, ibt; 
satiety of pampered idleness* 

Ladjf R. That view of the subject 
was arnte, original, and philosophic, — 
Its truth, though iinperceived before, 
was no Bount^r taken up by the mindi 
than it matured into conviction. 

Lnrd E. Upon ray honour I don't 
think so. For my part, I don*t like 
work myself, and I have pitied the 
poor devils^-panpers 1 mean — that I 
have seen breaking stones, and. tn 
London, swee[iing the streets, 

Lady R, Fabe humanity, tny lord. 
These people should have jirovided 
something in their prosperity^ to keep 
them out of a !<ttite of pauperism. 

Lord E, But perhaps they never 
knew prosperity — ^perhaps they never 
in their lives knew what it was to 
have enough to eat for three days to- 
gether. 

Lady R, Then they must have been 
all along* redundaut labourers, and to 



1 8S7.] Aitoria ; or, EvUerprise betfond the Rockt/ 3Iountams. 167 



support them is but to conituue and 
a^i^rtiv^tte the evil. But you have not 
! mL'iUionrd what Lurd Brou^rhjin s^jid 
«!i(iut tilt! basUrdy pdTt of tlie Pour 
L»v¥ Hill, ^ jiioh wds pcrhupi the most 
scientific ptniiuu w ihe whwle of bij* 
splendid fpe«eh» 

tW. F. I think if your ladyship is 
abuul to discuBs that p^rt uf the ^ub- 



f 



ject, I must Siiy good bye» 1 have to be 
at Tiittersiiirs ut four o'tlock. 

Lord IC, Why, so iiave I — la it 
really so late V Good momioj^, Liidy 
Ril^hterii. 

( net/ gu out — Laii^ Bighl^nt and Air, 
Jones take up 6tMt/ci and papers, and 
retire to an tnnei- room.) 



ASTORIA i OR» ENTEBFRISK BBVOWD TME ROCKY MOU>fTAlWS .♦ 



Tub history of ihe wilda of North 
Americiu and of thi: ajtiuiis w Idch in- 
habit tbt^uif mi^ht h'dVd lunj^ ri^iUdiiK^d 
uuknuwn to Euro|^edii&, but for the tu- 
Cerpri^e« of iht ftir tfailtri, wbirh biive 
carried a fuceeasiou uf djring ud ven- 
turer* into tht? rt?m*>te8t rews^srs of the 
wild«.*rne8?» Kver slijce the Fiench 
and English estdblishi^d tlair Cnlunies 
on the coiiltneut of Noitli Auitiriuki, 
the traffic in peliiies lukn Hecii ]njr- 
sued with uuri'tnittiii^^ anxiety As 
the population of the coloiii«fg in- 
creased, and the forests gn^e way be- 
fore the corn-fitilds, the wild aniinj^U, 
like the unfurlunate ludians, were 
driven back upon the des^rt^ and the 
chief suppUe« of furs are now oblKiuud 
from the sterile rei^ioni*, reachini^ from 
the north of Canada to the Polar scm, 
or from the wild and hitherto uncivi* 
li«ed countries aitoated between the 
Rockv Mountains and the shores of 
the Pacific. The northern^ and by 
far the most valuable of the fur coun- 
tries, is entirely under the control of 
the united Hudsou's Bay and North- 
west Companies, who have now aban- 
dooed their fierce rival rie$» and eon- 
duct a peaceful comnierce, equally 
td ' IS to themselves and their 

^Iii ^mrrs. 

Lm i^i^i^ are also to be found in con- 
Fidentble abundance in the uncolonized 
parts of the United States, but they 
are inferior in numbers as well its 
quality to those obtained in the more 
uorihcrn countries. It i* a curious 
lact that not many years have ela|jsed 
since the fur trade within the terri- 
tories uftlie United States was entirely 
in the hands of British adventun^rs. 
DuriufT the administration of Jefferson, 
thii drcum^tance reasonably enough 
excited the jealousy of the American 



government, not so much on account 
of the valuti tjf iht' trade as from the 
prrpondenince which it gave to Eng;- 
li^h iullucnce among the Itidiiins. The 
attempts, ho v^ ever, of the American 
tradets, even uhcn support«^tl by all 
ihc^ influence of their t/overnnient, were 
unabkr tiiconiftete with the$skill and ex- 
perience of tlic inicilopi js, until the 
HPttl'li and exL^riions ut a single in- 
dividual dt lust wrestfd the trade from 
the English, and transferred it to the 
ciiizen^ of the United States. The 
individual we ulludc to is Mr« Astor, 
a German by birth, but a citizen of 
America, who bad iiniassed a princely 
fortune by hi* talents and industry ; 
but Mr, Astor was not satisfied «ilb 
the success wiiich bad crowned his 
elTorts, for he resolved to follow them 
up by one ofthf* boldest schemes which 
a single merchant ever attempted to 
execute. He resolved to plant a 
trading e!4tabli?^hme^t ut the eutiance 
of the Colnnibia river, which would 
command the entire fur trade of the 
west ot the Eocky Mountains, while 
coasting vesseU were to collect the 
sea*otter furs alotig the shims of the 
Pacific. A chain oi furts or ralhcr of 
trading stutions was to be estahli^hed 
between the sources of the Missouii 
and the Columbia, tlius CfMunctlng the 
commerce of (he east and wi *^t sides 
of the Rocky Mountains* and keeping 
open a laitd connnunicatioii bets^een 
the Atlantic and Pacilic Oceans. The 
produce of the fur trade was to be 
deposited at an emporium at the 
numih of the Colurnhiii, and from 
thence trunsported to Canton, the 
great market for furs. The vessels 
were then to return to New York with 
a cargo of teas, having thus made a 
voyage of three years' duration, and 



* Afftoria ; or, Eoterpriie beyond the 'Rocky Mountains. By the author of ** The 
Sketch Book." 3 vob. post 8vu, Loodon. 183(3. 



168 Astoria ; ovy Enterprise beyond the Rocky MotaUainSm [Feb. 



circumnavigated the world. Nor did 
his project stop here, for he also con* 
tracted to supply the Russian factory 
at Sitka with trading jroods, and he 
even aspired at ^'ettiiifr possession of 
one of the Sandwich Islands as a con- 
venient station (or his vessels, heinsjrhulf 
way hetween Canton and the Coluui- 
hia. Such was the gigantic project of 
a single merchant, but a man of vast 
\vealth and energy, and intimately ac- 
quainted with the details of the fur 
trade ; and although the enterprise 
proved unfortunate, we cannot but ad- 
mire ti»e magnificence of the scheme, 
and the skill and prudence, which, 
had they been adequately supported, 
might have carried it on to success. 

These observations will explain the 
object of the work before us. as also 
the name it bears ; we will therefore 
proceed to give some account of the 
various expeditions which the pro- 
jects of Mr. Astor set in motion. A 
ship was fitted up to carry out the 
settlers and all the apparatus necessary 
for the establishment of a new colony, 
while another detachment was to as- 
cend to the head waters of the Mis- 
souri, traverse the Rocky Mountains, 
and de:3cending the Columbia, were to 
join their companions on the shores of 
the Pacific. 

We shall first direct our attention to 
the sea voyage, and to the melan- 
choly catastrojjhe by which it was ter- 
minated. The ship, Tonquin, was well 
provided with every thing necessary 
to ensure success, and carried out an 
efficient complement of fur traders and 
Canadian voyageurs. All the prudence 
of these arrangements was rendered 
abortive by the nnrortunate selection 
of a commander, whose absurd con- 
duct frustrated every ])rovision sug- 
gested by prudent forethought, and 
added one to the many examples where 
persevering folly has etfeeted more 
irrep'irable mischief than intentional 
malice could have accomplished. This 
woithy navigator, who is a favourite 
with Mr. Irving, was obviously a man 
of a single idea ; his notions of duty do 
not appear to have extended beyond 
maintaining the necessary discipline, 
and making the shortest possible voy- 
age between two points. Aeconlingly 
we find that during the voyage the 
ship exhibited a little world of jealousy 
and insubordination. The thoughtless 
gaiety of one passmirer, the imper- 
turbable good nature of another, and 
the caustic humour of a third, were 
alike the sources of misery to this lord 



of the quarter deck. We need not 
enter into the details of these petty 
squabbles, as every one who has made 
a voyage of moderate lengrthcan suffici- 
enily appreciate them. After a prospe- 
rous voyage, the captain found himself 
in the vicinity of the Columbia river, 
and from this period his incompetency 
became more apparent. The en- 
trance to the Columbia river is danger- 
ous, except in fine weather, and for 
vessels oi' moderate size, on accoont 
of a broad and shallow sand-bank which 
reaches across its mouth. The Ton- 
quin arrived here in stormy weather, but 
instead of wailing till the gales abated, 
the captain attempted to enter the 
river, at whose entrance the breakers 
were rising in fearful surges. But the 
force of folly could proceed still farther. 
In such weather, and on such a coast, 
where the ship was in imminent peril, 
it was absurd to expect that a boat 
could live; the captain, however, 
thought otherwise, and ordered one of 
his officers to proceed in the boat to 
ascertain the soundings on the bar; 
and to render success impossible, the 
boat was manned, not with expert sea> 
men, but with Canadian voyageurs. 
It was in vain that the fated otBcer 
attempted to decline tliis act of immo- 
lation — he affectingly observed that a 
near relation of his own had lost his 
life in the same service a few years 
before, and he added, I am now going 
to lay my boneS alongside of his. The 
boat and her hapless crew were never 
heard of. Next day the attempt to 
enter the river was resumed, and an- 
other boat was de8|)atched to explore 
the bar — a duty which would have 
been performed to more advantage at 
the mast-head. This expedition was 
rather less unfortunate tnan its pre- 
decessor, for two of the crew survived, 
and the ship at last entered the river 
without the aid of soundings. It has 
been stated on good authority that the 
incapacity of the captain so alarmed all 
on board, that one of the officers actu- 
ally took the management of the ship 
into his own hands, and by watching 
the breakers from the mast-head, was 
enabled to bring the ship to anchor 
without damage. 

The traders and their associates now 
landed, and after establishing an ami- 
cable understanding with the Indians, 
commenced the construction of a fort 
for the protection of their commerce. 
The ship departed on a trading voyage 
along the coast, when the same folly 
which had already produced such mis- 



pl^ 



Asioiia ; or Enterpruc heffond the Roch^ Mountains, 169 



^ 



foriiines, termmated in the loss of the 
ship» and tlie dtstruciion of her crew. 
On arriving at the Straits of Juan de 
Fuca, the natives came on board to 
barter their ftirs lor knives* beads, &c. 
when the captiiiii contrived to in^nlt 
th« chiefs, and to pat a stop to the 
trade. The wily and vindictive 
savages were not to be without their 
revenjre. No cutreiity could perenade 
the ctsptiiin to quit this danjirerous 
vicinity, nor lo take iho aiicessary pre- 
cauti«jtis aifwin^t a surprise. Crowds 
of miartned Indians no\\' HiJproacked 
the vessel, bringing plenty of l'urs» 
nrhich ibey readily disponed of for 
knives or daggers, wkich were secretly 
distributed till moft of the savuges 
were arinetli The captain bLcame 
ubfTned, and when it was too late gt^vc 
orders U) itnreef the suits and weigh 
anchor* Wldle prcpamtious for de- 
{>arture were in progress, an indis- 
criuiiiiute massacre convtncncedj and 
only four uf the Milers escaped. These 
liriLve men barricaded theniselven in the 
n, and by opening a brisk fire 
liough openings whieh they hud made 
in the cumpanion-way, they rtadily 
drove the Indians from the ship, and 
then iisuing from their fortress, by 
menus of the great guns, they indicted 
a fearful retaiiation u|jon the c anoes of 
the savages. The sailors afterwards 
attempted to make their wa}' to the 
Columbia in the ship's boat, but were 
driven ash»»re by adverse weather, and 
were murdered by the natives. One 
individital still survived, who had re- 
fused to quit the ship, and uliliough 
*ovprclv wounded, had resolved upon 
» dreatlful act of revenge. He ap- 
peared upon the deck, and invited the 
Indians to come on boarih.^nd spct'dily 
(lisaippeii red. The vessel was soon 
crowded with plundering and exulting 
savage*, when the shi[) blew up with 
a tremendous explosion. 

*• Arm«, lega, and mutilated bodies 
were blown into the air, and a rlrcadful 
hitvoe wDs mado in the surrotiiuling 
canoes. Upwards of a huiulred savages 
were deilroycd by the explosion, and 
raany more shockingly mutilated ) and 
fiir many day« the limbs and bodiea of tiio 
»Wni wrre thrown upon the beach." 

Before proceeding furtlier with the 
'dory of Mr. Astor'tJ project, we shall 
some aic'count of Ihis purl i>f 
nericmn coast. Tlie norih-west 
America remained longer uu- 
koowti to Europeans than any other 
piirt of the New World. Its remote 



situaiion, uninviting climate, small 
commercial importance, and the jea- 
lousy of the S])aniards, all contributed 
to continue our ignorance. Alihough 
several Spanish navigators bad ex- 
plored the western coasts of North 
America, and Biscaino had discovered 
Nootka, yet it was not till Captain 
Cook had made the country known 
that it became a field for commercial 
enterprise. It was then ascertained that 
the north-west coast abounded in sea 
otters, the most valuable of the Ame- 
nean furs in the Cldtm market. Cap- 
tain Meares, an enterprising English- 
man, now attempted to establish a 
regular trade between Nootka and 
Canton ; he gained the good will of 
the Itidians, and constructed a small 
factory among ihem, where he built a 
small coasting vessel, and carried on a 
prf>sperous and friendly intercourse 
with the natives. The suspicious 
government of Spain became alarmed 
at the idea of permitting the English 
to establish themselves in the vi- 
cinity of its Mexican dependencies ; 
and tlie viceroy of Mexico fitted 
out an expedition which dispossessed 
Captidii Meares's people and left 
a Spanish settlement in their place* 
The English government did not brook 
this insult, and demands for reparation 
WE'te made to ihe court of Miitlrid. 
The interminable negociations to which 
this demand promised to give rise* were 
quickly brotight to a close by ihe ener- 
getic demonstratious of Mr. Pitt, who 
began to prepare for obtaining redress 
by commeueiiig hostilities, Tlic Spanish 
government now abandoned its claims 
upon Nuotka, and Captain Vancouver 
was despatched tu take possession of 
the disputed territory, and to survey 
the complicated coasts of Nortb-west 
America. How well Vancouver ex- 
ecuted hi^i difficult task may be seen 
by inspecting the admirable charts 
which accompany his voyage. When 
we reflect on the immense extent of 
country which he surveyed, extending 
from California to Berrhing's Straits, a 
coast abounding in itilets, and studded 
with numerDus islands; and that only 
three summers were occupied with the 
tiiak, wc cannot but admire the zeal 
and energy which accompHbhed so 
much. At the same time, it is but 
justice to state, that a portion of the 
coas^t was surveyed by the Spaniaids, 
and that the navigators of both coun- 
tries carried on their operations in the 
most friendly concert, and interchanged 
their discoveries in the most unic- 



170' AdoHa ; or f Enterprise hetf unci the Rock^ MoufUains. [Feb. 

r served manner. If the hyilrogTaphleal 
j]ttbour8 o^' the Spanish ulBi'ers were 
■leafl extensive tlian those of Vancouver, 

they htive made us nmrh better ac- 
.quairitcd with the p<?opte of Nootka, 
I whose history ami ianj^uau'e may yet 
I thruw fiome light on the liitfit uk ques- 
Itioii of the migration of the Axtoc 
I tribes towards Mt^xico. Much etirious 
[ ii» formation respecting' Nootka i* t<j he 
[ fuuiid in ihe woik of Seimr Moyiiio 
[the uutyraliit Id the Spanish expedi> 
I tion. 

To return tn the hislwy of the Tiir 
[ trade. No st>onL'r had Eii^hind vtuili- 
\ catKd the iVeedoiu of the comiijerte of 

Norih-we^t Ameried, tlian a crowd of 

wdventurrrs cutered upon the trade j 
I and at one titne, the oli^ciire harhonf 
I of Nooika contained no fewer than 
) twenty vessels uiidt^r difiVrent flki^'B. 

The trade in sea otters did nni prove 
Ian El Dorado. Tiie number of com- 
ipetitors raij^ed the price of peltries; 
[and while the Indiana hunted with in- 
I Crea«ied spirit, the game tlimiiushrii, 

and the increased supply of furs 
( lowered ihi^r value in the Chinese 
1 market. The North weM fur trade 
[proved a Losing: one » especially to the 

English, who could not |>archa*'e teas 
I for their homeward drj^o ; and they 
■ ioon a I )a rid on ml nil reluttotiji willi the 



Indiiins of Nooika ; and thus a p' tty 

I territory in a remote corner of the 

Tfrorld, which had nearly oceasioncd a 

bii>ody war between two great nations, 

waa quickly forgotten bv alL Since 

tliat tiuic the coasting fur trade has 

i been chiedy in the hands of the Ame- 

rican9» and wh& carried on, we believe, 

-in the ftdlowinir manner: — Tiie trad- 

iusr vessel remained on the AmpricHn 

Coajut tdl H snpply of fura was obtained. 

These were carried to ihe Sandwich 

[ isles, whrre another ship wus wuiting 

f to receive them and take them to 

Canton. The ship which had liT'ou»4:ht 

I ihe fnrs took in a sujiply <»f ^yotnls and 

retarneii to the Amencan coHi*t, while 

the other vessel proceeded to Canton ; 

) and having exchanged the peltries for 

1 Chinese produce returned to Boston 

[ or New York. Lately the Hudson's 

Bay Company have established fae- 

\ tones on various parts of the coast, 

I and by combininij^ in thi'^ inanuer the 

^ inland and coasting trade, will be able 

to oppose all competitors, while they 

have uow no difficulties with respect 

to the China trade. 

The Indian population of the north- 
west coast diScrs in many respects from 
their brethren to the cast of the Hocky 



Mountains, and even the Iribea on dif- 
ferent parts of the coast vary codsi- 
derably in language, features, and man- 
nerM. The Indians of Califurtiia are, 
according to La Perouse, almost as 
dark coloured as neg^roes ; but the 
natives of Queen Charlotte Islund are 
nearly as li^^bt coloured as Europeans, 
while the intermediate Nootkan and 
Columbian tribes possesses characters^ 
which distinguish them from either. 
The Indians of the Columbia river — 
those of De Fiicas Straits and Nootktt 
— apj»ear to behing to one mce con- 
nected by atfiniiies of ian:^LLti|iic, phy- 
sical resemblances, and similarity of 
cii-*t0fns. They are all ichthyophagous, 
Bubsisting almost entirely on fish, vrhile 
the ciiase forms but a secondary means 
of support. They are a sleek and 
piiuiprred race of small stature, of uu 
olive complexion, and by no meani 
hdndfiome. The circnuistance which 
distinguishes them trom ali the other 
north- west tribes, is the barbaroua 
custom of Battening the heads of their 
children. Immediately after birth the 
infant is placed in a cradle so con* 
stmcted that a constant but moderate 
pressure is applied to \xa head ; und 
tlii'* process is continued for upwards 
of a year till tkie natural torni of the 
head is irretrievably lost. By this 
means the OLitunil meaanrementa are 
invf rted, and the long diameter is not 
from behind to before, but latendly 
from ear to ear. This custom of flat- 
tening the head appears to have l»een 
widi'ly diffused throughout America, 
and was practised by many tribes is 
witlely remote situations, as by the 
natives of Carolina, by the Caribs of 
St. Vincent, and by the native* of 
Pern, where the practice was prohibited 
by the Synod of Lima, shortly after 
the conquest of that country. It it 
also deserving of notice, that the »o- 
ci''nt Mexican?i» although they did not 
flatten their own heads, representetl 
their deities with compressed fore- 
heads. Perhaps it is on account of 
thi.* strange custom which at all eventi 
must change, to some extent, the rela- 
tive position of the dttferent parts of 
the brain, that apoplexy is very fre^ 
quent among the iuclians of the Co- 
lo nihia river. 

The Columbian tribes are also re- 
markahle for the prevalence of slavpry 
among them ; hut the lot of the Indian 
slave is much happier than that of the 
negro of a sugar colony. It is « 
melancholy fact that the evils of slavery 
increase iii proportion to the intellect 



1 



I 



I 



i 

y 



1837-J Astoria i or, Entei'jjrufe beifond the Mocktf Motmluim* 171 



tual superiority of the maBtere. In 
CafoUiiiL the »liivc is prulubitud froin 
thmking and exclude<i frum hope; ld& 
existence h almost a^ purt.lv | physical 
Its thut of our domestic Hniumis, In 
Iht* S^utiUh colohkfii, whore the dls- 
titii'tiorts ure less eitreme, the lot of 
tUe slave admits of miiny alleviations ; 
nrid at Nuoika, the slave is utmost on 
ma equality wlih his maMer. He sleeps 
under the same roof» partukts of the 
«atne food, uud is protected by the 
Mine cluthiug. He is oflen revvarded 
with freedom, aud hU descendants 
may become chit'l'i^ of die tribe. It is 
true, the uiii^ter {lOiiSesses the power of 
life and death— a power under some 
form or othc-r inherent in the property 
of ulavfs ; but it ia scarcely ever eier- 
ebed by tht' Indian iniLsters. MaoLiud 
are retidy to inveuL fictitious dbtiuc* 
tious, or to aviill themselves of $ueh 
fta nature aSbrds, In the European 
colonies difference of compWxion se- 
|»arute» the duminant fr<im the snij* 
ject r«tce. Such a diuinctiou is inipua- 
•ible acuouij: the Indians, where niiiatur 
axid servant are of like conipkxioiL 
The Sa^me end is attained by a luJi- 
CfOij* but most etfeetUkil expedient. 
Among the CoUimbian tiibes no &Uvc 
dares to Hutten tlie Lead of his child. 
Thb is the exclusive privib-ge of the 
free, and thus the distinction of flat 
head, as effectually marks the relations 
of maJiter and slave, as that of Enro* 
peau and nejfro. There is one advnn- 
ta^re attending this Indian slavery ; it 
probably mitiirates the ferocity of w ar, 
by raising seltishness as a counterpoise 
to that excess of vindictive feelhig^ 
which is common to all the Indian 
trilies. 

Tlie Indians are extremely credu- 
lous as well as viudletive ; and these 
two states of mind are often strangely 
combiueil. They believe that every 
disease is occasioned by some malevo- 
lent agent ; and in every tribe there is 
m number of medicine men who can 
cjtpel the evil spirit Ironi the patient^ 
or can afflict their enemies with mortal 
itiitca&e. These impostors lead a very 
hitxardnus life ; for their countrymen 
have an unbounded faith in their 
flowers for good or evil, and thev' arc 
consulted cm every emergency. Their 
Diude of cure is abund.intly simple. — 
The doctor collects the neighbours, 
whose ofHce it is to sing, beat the roof 
with sticks., and in short make as much 
uoise as (Mjssible to frighten away the 
demon. The doctor then places his 
koccs on tiic client of his unfortunate 



patient, and endeavours to squeeze the 
evil s|»iiit out of his lurking pluee, il 
the puiient recovers, the impostur is 
richly rewarded, birt he is held re- 
spoosibie fur the event : and if the 
disease ternii nates fatally, and the 
friends of the patient be p^)werful, the 
doctor will be us^assinat' d at the ear^ 
liest opporl unity. This niude of 
pnniohirjj^ their medical men h a very 
trt:t|ueut cause of war uniung the 
Columbian tribes* On one oceusion, 
two young and tavoorite chiefs of the 
Chcenook clan, hoth labouriog under 
puluionary roni^nnipiion, were com- 
mitted tu tlie charge of two famous 
medical chiel^ ; and under their treat* 
ment the patients died. The two doe- 
U)T&, who heltjnged to another clan, were 
murdered, and this gave rise to a war 
of twelve months* duration. We shall 
give unotiier instance of the ibnger of 
practising on Indiain credulity. One 
of the doctors actually succeeded in 
persuading the Indians that he was 
ball proof; and one of his friends re- 
solved to make the experiment; the 
boaster was shot, but it was for some 
time before the matier-of-taet Indiati 
eould be per=uaded thjt he had killed 
hi^ friend. 

To the north of Nootka the Indians 
belong to a <lifferent racci and speak a 
different language. The natives of 
Queen Charlotte Island belong to this 
race; are a strong-built and good-look- 
ing people, of a light complexion, and 
possessed of great courage and inge- 
nuity. They are far su]>crior to the 
Columbian tribes in courage as well as 
in the neatness of their ornaments, but 
inferior to them in cleanlintss. They 
do not compress the heads of their 
children ; but in its stead they have 
devised a still mttre revolting defor- 
mity. The women — ^for it is to ihera 
tiie jiracticc iti confined — make a long 
incision in the under lip, into which 
they iti-^ert a piece of woorl ahmd an 
ineh and a half in len^tht ainl a i[oarter 
of an inch in breadth, ami thus appear 
as if they carried a sp^joti iixed to their 
mouth. 

We shall now give s^»me account of 
the overland ejt[>editioo, which is still 
richer in incidents than the sea voy- 
age. This expedition was to depart 
Irom St. Louis, and after ascending 
the Mbsouri, was to cross the Hocky 
Muuntains, and Join the i«ettlers at 
Astoria, as their emporium at the 
nio-uth of the CohiniUia whs desig- 
nated. In tliis instrime Mr. Astor 
was more fortunate in scletting a com- 



172 Astoria ; or^ Enterprise Imfond the RocJof Mountains* [Feb, 



gander than he was in choosing n 
aptalo for his vessel. Mr. Hunt, 
ivho conducted the travdrnig: party, 
[^ro<a the American continent, was 
dmiralily futed fur the task by 
I CftUn courage and mild good sense, 
irKieh contmst him f^ivoumbly with 
ihe peevish obstinncy* and want of 
fprudcnce exhibited by the commander 
1 ©f ihc Tonfjuin. Mr, Hunt's party 
[consisted of upwards of sixty men, 
Lcomposed of the most discordant ma* 
[terials, and recjuiriug the most dex- 
► terous management. The g^reater 
\ tiumher were French Canadians, kind, 
light-hearted and tractable^ — admirable 
* 'boatmen, and pos^essin^ much of the 
clastic spirit uf their ancestors. These 
men are invaluable in I he manas^ement 
of a canoe, and iheir easy manners 
enable them to acecimmoilate ihcm- 
I' selves with fur more facility to the so- 
ciety of Indian^, than the more ener- 
getic, but inilexible Euf^lishman ; and 
I hence they reurlily intermarry willi the 
\ natives iu whose country they may 
chance to reside. The voyasjeur, 
however, differs from his chivalrous 
ancetJtors in one important respect — 
courage is not his forte ; consequently, 
fighting^ is business for which he has 
no relish, ami his antipathy to all 
[•deadly weapons is very great. To 
fflupply the deficiencies of the Cana* 
dians, a proper luiota of himters were 
•hired, men who nad seen many a ha- 
zartl in the Inilian country, »»ijd whose 
duty it was to kill gfame for the support 
of the party, and, when requisite, to 
fight in its defence. Oceasionally, as 
the cxijcdilion ascended the Missouri, 
it would meet with one of these lie- 
Toea of the desert, on his return to St. 
Louis, and Lmt little persuasion was 
required to induce such restless spi- 
rits to join in a journey so full of in- 
terest and excitcoicnt. The history 
of one of these adventurers will ex- 
hibit the dangers incidental to these 
fearless but unsettled men. 

A hunter, of the name of Colter, 
was engaged, with a companion* in 
trapping beaver, in territories of the 
Black- Feet Indians. We shall give 
the adventure in Mr. trving's words ; 

** Th«y were on a branch of the Mis- 
souri called JefferAoti*^ Fork, and had &«t 
their tmps at night, about hix miles up a 
small river, which- emptied itwlf into the 
Fork. Early in the morning tliey de- 
eceiided the river in a canno, to examine 
their traps. Af> they were softly prtd- 
dhng along they heard the tntmpHug of 
many feel upon tbo banks. Cotter im* 



mediately gave the alarm of * Indiantt' 
and was for instant retreat, PoUs scoffiMl 
at him for being frightened for the tramp* 
ling of a herd of buffaloes. Colter check* 
ed his uneasiness and paddled forward. 
They had not gone much further when 
friifhtful whoop* and yells bur«t forth 
from each side of the river, and several 
hundred Indians appeared on either bank. 
Signs were made for the unfortunate 
trappers to come on shore. They were 
obliged to comply. Before they could 
get out of the canoe, a savage seized tbe 
riflo belonging to Potts. Colter sprung 
on shore, wrest CfJ the weapon from ite 
hcmd» of the ladinn, and restored it to 
his companioDp who was still in the c*- 
noe, and iromediately pushed into the 
stream. There was the sharp tvraag of 
a bow, and Potts cried out he Was 
wounded. Colter urged him to come on 
shore and submit, as the only chaace for 
his life} but the other knew there was 
no pr^jspect of mercy, and determined lo 
die game ; levelling his rifle, he shot one 
of the savages dead on the spot; — the 
next moment he fell himself, pierced with 
innumerable arrows. 

" The vengeance of the tavfi^eft now 
turned upon C'olter, He was stripped 
naked, and having some knowledge of 
the Black-Foot language, overheard a 
consultation as to tiie mode of despaicli- 
tog him, so as to derive the greatest 
amusement from his death. Some were 
for setting htm up as a mark, and having 
a trial of skill at fiis expense^ The chief, 
however, was for nobler sport. He seised 
Colter by the shoulder, and demanded if 
be could run fust. He knew it w%is to 
run for his life, to afford a sort of human 
hunt to his pursuers. He was led by the 
chief to the prairie, about four hundred 
yard* from the main body of the savafres, 
and then turned loose, to save hlaiseU if 
he could. A tremendous yell let him 
know that the whole jwick of blood- 
hounds were off iu full cry. He ha»l six 
miles to run before he could reach the 
Missouri, and the plain abounded iu 
prickly pears, which wounded his naked 
feeU He, however, left the main body 
of his pursuers btddnd ; but, a swift- 
footed warrior, armed with a speafi was 
not more than a hundred yards behind 
him, 

** He anived within a mile of the river. 
The sound of footsteps |;ntliered upon 
him, and his pursuer was within twenty 
yards, pn^'parin;^'' to biunoh his spear. 
Stopping short, he turned ronrtd, and 
spread out \m arms. The savage, con- 
founded by this sudden actios, atUmpi«*d 
to stop short, and level his spear« but fell 
in the act. Colter picked wp the #prar, 
and pinned the hiJim^^ to the earth. 



I 

i 
I 



J 



1887.] AiUn^ia; or, Enterprise beyond the Eocky Mow Sk 

cooiinued his flight The IndiaDs, as 
thej imriTed at their slaughtered compa- 
nion, stopped to howl over him. Colter 
plunged into the stream, and gained a 
neighbouring island, at the upper part of 
which a great accumulation of drift-wood 
had formed a natural raft ; under this he 
dived, and swam until he gained a breath- 
ing-place between two trunks of trees. 
He had scarcely drawn breath when he 
heard hb pursuers on the river-bank, 
whooping and yelling like so many Bends. 
They came to the raft The heart of 
Colter died within him as he saw them 
through the chinks, seeking for him in 
all directions. But at last they gave up 
the search, and the trapper effected his 
escape.** 



173 



Such are the adventures to which 
the beaver trapper is exposed in these 



savage regions, through which Mr. 
Hunt's party was to pass. The virtues 
and happiness of a savage life, which 
have been described with so much sen- 
timentalismr exist only in the ima- 
ginations of Buch men as Rousseau. 
The Indian tribes of the Missouri are 
in continual war, burnings of villages, 
massacres, acts of treachery, and re- 
morseless cruelty, — such is the varied 
uniformity of savage life. The po- 
pulation is diminishing every year; 
the vices of civilization have been 
amulgauiated with those of barbarism ; 
and the old landmarks of custom, 
which tended to moderate, in some 
degree, the vices of the Indian, have 
been broken down by his commerce 
with (lie white man. How correct is 
the poet's picture of savage life! 



" Nee commune bonum poterunt, spectare neque ullis 
Moribus inter se scient nee legibus, uti 
Quod quoque obtulerat prseda fortuna ferebat, 
Sponte sua sibi quisque valere et vivere doctus.** 



The history of the Omaha chief, 
Blackbird, affords a frightful instance 
of the increased powers for evil which 
savage inan may obtain from civilized 
but wicked associates. Blackbird was 
fully aware of the importance which 
he acquired by his intercourse with 
the fur traders. When a trader visited 
his village, it was his custom to cause 
all the trading goods to be brought to 
his lodge, and to select from them 
whatever he pleased. In return for 
these exactions he allowed the trader 
to purchase all the peltries of the tribe 
at nis own price. No one was allowed 
to dispute the prices fixed by the white 
trader upon his articles, who took 
care to indemnify himself, five times, 
for the goods set apart by the chief. 
This arrangement was equally profita- 
ble to the white man and the Indian 
chief, but excited great discontent 
among the people of his tribe. Upon 
this, says Mr. Irving, a crafty and un- 
principled trader revealed a secret 
to the Blackbird, by which he might 
acquire unbounded sway over his ig- 
norant and superstitious subjects. He 
instructed him in the poisonous quali- 
ties of arsenic, and furnished him with 
an ample supply of that baneful drug. 
From this time Blackbird seemed en- 
dowed with supernatural powers, — to 
possess the gift of prophecy, and to 
Dold the disposal of life and death 
within his hands. Wo to any one who 

auestioned his authority, or dared to 
ispute his commands I Blackbird 



prophesied his death within ^ certain 
time, and he had the secret means of 
verifying his prophecy. It is interest- 
ing to contemplate the results of such 
a fatal power, as influencing the temper 
of their possessor. His vindictive 
passions gained strength in proportion 
to his means of satisfying them ; his 
passions became too powerful to be 
controlled, and he became subject to 
fits of furious rage. It is a melancholy 
comfort to reflect that, uncontrolled 
power for evil is necessarily attended 
by a proportionate increase in the mi- 
sery of its possessor, who, by his 
blind ebullitions of passion, inflicts 
ample retaliation on himself, and accu- 
mulates a long arrear of remorse. In 
one of his fits of passion, savs Mr. 
Irving, his beautiful wife had tLe mis- 
fortune to offend him, when suddenly 
drawing his knife, he laid her dead 
with a single blow. 

It was summer when Mr. Hunt's 
party ascended the Missouri, and the 
vast prairies which extended on either 
side of that mafrnificent stream, 
abounded in herds of buffaloes, which 
afforded ample sport to the hunters, 
and a plentiful supply of food to the 
party. The scene is vividly pourtrayed 
by Mr. Irving : — 

« Sometimes these unwieldy animals 
were seen moving in long procession 
across the silent landscape; at other 
times they were scattered about singly, 
or in groups, over the broad, enamelled 
prairies, and green declivities; some 



174 Astoria; or^ Eniet^piise beyond the Rocky Mauntmns. [Feb. 



crappinp- the rich pftstum^e, others re- 
cUriin^ amidst the flowery herba^re. At 
one plnee the shoivs a«!«iiied Bb»olutely 
lined with buflBhws ^ mmiy wure rnaking 
thc-ir wny acrr>si* the streaQjf snorLin^^ 
and blwwitit:, and flounJering. Num- 
ber*, in jspitt! of every efFori, were borne 
by the nipid current wiiliin ftbtit of tbe 
buuLH, Hud sevi^ral were killifd, Al an- 
uihi^r place ii uumbtir wi^re de>icrjed on 
lIiu bench of a »m»\\ islnntf* under the 
ftlmd^L! of ti'i^ca, 4Jr 6t4ind]n|j in thti vvaler, 
L'ke catib% to avoid the flies and the heut 
of tie day. 

" Beside* tlie LuflFiiloeft^ they eiiw ubun- 
danre of deer, and fiet|uent gang* of 
stittily elks, toj^ftlier with light iroopjj of 
hpii^'htly anlt^bipeSj^the fleetest and 
luoit sprightly animulB of the pruiries.'* 

This iio8<'TtjHinn of Mr, Irviij^'B is 
frep FroTn all exasjg'craLioTi, aud every 
trnvdler 8|»t"ak3 it) terms of aduii ration 
al the abnrifiince af ihe^e *inc atumals 
whose countless herds afford the chief 
pii|>|>ort of the lodiaiis from Hudsou*s 
Bay to Mt'iico* 

« It ia no exaggaratiun," saya an Ame- 
rican traveller, *♦ to a^ert that in cnie 
fdnce on Ihe banks of the PIntte, lit 
t!Hst ten thousand bisons hur&l on our 
si^ht in an lustant. In the mominj^} we 
again flou^ht the living picture, but upon 
all ihe plain, which » \mi evening^ was »o 
leemitijtr with uohle animalsi not one re- 
mnioed/^ 

These animal? aro micratory — ad- 
[Taiiciiig during suinnier to the mo9t 
I Hon hem parts of America, and retiring 
j »» the cold FPa^on appVoarhei^t to the 
[continps of Mexico. It i^ remarkuhle» 
[ihat. with vf^ry few exceptions, all the 
[useful domestic animals have been in- 
(irodured luto America hy Europeans. 
I At its discovery, the only domestic ani- 
I mats were the Hani a and vicnba, and 
I the dogr, the inseparable companion of 
Tiriant None of the ahori^imil iiih^Uix 
[tantsof North America ever attempted 
[to avtiil themselves of the hnlfalo as a 
beast of burden, and wluit is still more 
remarkable, none of the hunting tribes 
ever passed u* the pasttvral state l»y 
[brinjrifig' the wild cattle tmder their do- 
minion. In short, so far are we from 
finding" any ternlencies to civilizatirjn 
I and a settled life amon;s: the Indians of 
) North America, I hat inelanrholv as 
I the fart may be* every thing ieads to 
I ttn o|(posite conrhi^iion. We find 
throughout the continent ancient mo- 
numeids of former rdces sitperior in 
civilization to the present tribes, and 
long before the arrival of EutxK 



peans, the Indian race had reinygnuM 
into harban^rn. and had lost every me- 
morial of their ancestor*. 

On arriving at the Aricara vilia|re,the 
Mi^j*ouri ceases to be nBvig«ble, and 
Mr. Hunt and his p?irty were obliged to 
purSTie their journey to the Ho«'Vy 
MiiiitdaliiS on horst'back. Tliey passed 
throtii^h the country of the Crow In- 
dians, a tribe of the most dcxteroas 
horsesttpaiers which America r^ii pr*- 
dure. These m^irandprs, is«uinir horn 
their hiding places in fbc declivities of 
the mountains, pillage the tribes of the 
plains, and carry oH* great number* 
of horses, phmrler the lonely heaver 
tnipper» or attack the weak parties of 
traders. 

The party, however, parsed in safety 
th^«u^^h tjiis di^'bonest tribe, and pro- 
ceeded on (heir journey acms^ the 
mountuiu*. This lofiy runireis viewed 
with feelings of ssuperstitions awe by 
the Indians, who believe that us lofty 
and inacresjiilde summits are the 
abodes of their deceased warriors, 

" They call it,'* fays Mr. Irving', ** th« 
crest of the world, and think that Wm^ 
coudahf the Master of lite, as they detig- 
lUitB tike Supreme Being, hai his resideuca 
among these aerial heightsi. Some c»t 
them place the happy hunting grouadu, 
their ideal paradise, among the recewA of 
these muuntuiiis, but say that tbey are 
in viiiihle to living men ; here also i« the 
Innd of Bonla, ia which are ibe lownA of 
the generous and free iipirits, where iho&e 
who have pleased the Master of life 
while living, enjoy after death, all manner 
of delights.'* 

In what 19 remote or unknown, there 
is always room for the imagination, and 
the inaccessible and snow-crowned 
mom I tains have, in all ages and coun- 
tries, been peopled by the creations of 
faticy. The heights of the Him- 
nmUyah Mountains are the favoarit^ 
afvodes of the Hindoo deities, and 
every one remembers the aeriui inhabi- 
tants of Olympus. The belief in a 
hereafter so accordant H-ith all the as- 
pirations of savage or civilized mun,i9 
but obscurely revealed to unaided rea- 
son, and thi« tmcertatnty becomes asso- 
ciated it) the mind wiih all that is in- 
definite and inaccessible iu the grander 
scenery of nature. 

The remainder of the journey of Mf. 
Hont*s party was one of hardships and 
mislortunes. They traversed the coan- 
try between the Rocky Mountains and 
the Pacific during the winter, while 
provision* were scarce, and the ganitf 



1837.] Astoria ; or, ErUerp^'ise beyond the Rockt/ Mountaim, 175 



difficult tn procure. In consequence 
of litis 8<'rtrt:U_V| iliey wer« obliged to 
»#»f»Hnt(c tiilti smaller band:^, and to 
Aubstii on horse-tJt'sh and do-^s ; and even 
these uere not alwiiy* to \n\ prorure^d, 
Atler iintneraus hurdships and urlven- 
ttire«, ibe wnnderers suctesalvely ar- 
rived at AstMriii, their head-qyartprsi, 
on tha Columl>ia Hiver. 

Tbt! ultimate iurtynet of Mr. As> 
tor*s projecL are soon told* Wlnile 
hU tnid<frs wt^re employi-d in establish- 
ing their ctunmiTce tu the west tjf the 
inoiintuin!3« w.ir broke out hctwfcn 
Ea^Uiid and the United St.itf'S, atid 
the esrttbli*h>nciit on the Colnmbia 
preftf^ted a fair awA tempting prize Co 

the Enitlhh North West Company 

Accordingly* they fitted out an armed 
vr'*sel to lake possessitui of Astoria, 
ami the ifovenimt^nt despatched a 
»lo<ip of M ar to aid them. I ii the mean- 
time a band of North Westers were 
despatched, iiho, by a skilful ina- 
nceuvre, pTirchii^ed at a small price, 
the w'bofe of Mr. Astor^s property* 
The officers of the sloop of war« who 
had bet n elated with splendid hopes of 
prize money, were bitterly disapiiointed^ 
wht-n, on their arrival, tliey found that 
this El Durtido of the Columbia had 
passed into the bands of the North 
West Company. 

We Bballj before taking leave of 
this interesting work, add a few obser- 
vatioDfi on the characters of the Indian 
tribed, which are scattered over the 
wt pratnes of North America, and 
con'ra^t their habiU and di$>posttions 
with those of their brethren of the 
«esiern shores. Although ihe ln<lijiii 
character possesses many features 
which are common to all the tribis 
from Canada to Chili, s^till many in- 
1 erecting moditieations are introdnetd 
by varii^ty of climate, and mode of ob- 
taining subsistence. The Indian mind 
ti characterised by its inflexibility, and 
an exiretne repugnnnce to all continu* 
ou« Ubour or tranquil life. The causes 
of this are sufficiently obviouj** It 
hat been the custom to trace the pro- 
g^ress of civilization from the rude 
hunter to the nomadic shepherd, and 
from thence to the settled X\(e. of agri- 
culture, and ultimately to aggregations 
of men into cities occupied with manu- 
fiictures and commerce. It is diBicidt, 
however, lo qui*te a single instance in 
w hich a tribe of imnters have passed 
%oluntHrily to the state of shephurds or 
farmers. So far is this from being the 
rase, that let even a civilized European 
become habituated to the wandering 



life of a fur trader or trapper, and 
thenceforth he is lost to sedentary hfe. 
The pleasures of' the chace^tbe ex- 
citement of eonlinuaLl dangers — the al- 
ternations of ptrfect iuHCiion and vio- 
lent exertion, when strengthened by 
haliit, renilcr all contifioons exertion 
insupportable. The Indian, on his 
byiiiing expedi lions, will encounter an 
amount of futij^ne and eKeition ^ind 
liunger which is perfectly incredible ; 
but, Ida time ut home is spent in eating 
and sleeping. 

But this mode of life produces maiiy 
effects on the ludiun cbaructer. Acens- 
toiiied to privation and patience in the 
chace, he ucquirea every artifice ne- 
cessary for accomplishing his purpose i 
he is silent not hv alarm his rirey, he 
couceiils every eipres^iou of nis f<' cl- 
ings, and hi^ countenance seldom indi- 
cates either joy or siirrow. His tran- 
(ptil hours also refpnre excitement ana- 
logons to that of the chaee, and hence 
the practice of gaming is a passion ; 
and he often stakes his property, and 
even his wife, on the chance of a i^'anie. 
His wars are, in I act, of the nature of a 
nobler kind of hunting ; be pursne^^ his 
foH as he does the bear or tlie wolf. — 
Ojien warfare is unknown among In- 
ilinns, and their revenge is unrelenting. 
Any one who has seen a sportsman in- 
t<?nt upon his game may have some 
idea of the habiiurd ca«t of the Indian 
countentiiicp. This state of mind is 
also cheri-iiicd by the scenery around 
him. He sojourns in boundless ant I 
sombre fon^st'^ — the lukes are inland 
seiis, the momitidns of inaccessible 
1j eighty tinH the rivers of vast nugni* 
ttifie. Everything seems to impress 
ini bini the vastnes^ of nature and the 
feeble powers of man to com end with 
it \ and this eontribnle^ to the stoicism 
of his cbarjctcr, which acquires much 
of the pennanence of the mighty 
scenery ar*imid hi in. 

The Indian of the Pacific coasts of 
America is placed under very different 
circumsatances, and exhibits correspond- 
ing contrasts of character. He is not 
a iinoTer, but lives upon the lisb which 
fn-uuent his rivers and bavs in count- 
Je&*i Hwarms, Hence, nc is more se- 
dentary in his habits, and eonse^pienlly 
more ready to adopt civilized uiiages. 
The uAlives of Queen Charlotte Island 
b^ive learned to cultivate the potato, 
althoufirh all their intercourse with 
Eiiropeatis was confined to the occa- 
sional visiu of trading vessels. As 
these tribes of the west subsist upon 
fish^ they must also display a degree of 



: 



17^ 



Sismondi on i/te Vonstittttions of Free Nt ons. 



[Fub. 



mechanical akill which is not TDquircd 
by the hunting tnbcs. The Columbian 
Indian must construct cmioes — nianu^ 
fucture fishing' lines — and hnvc uccotn- 
luodntions for drvinjr his fbh* Nature 
u on a less magnificent scale, and pre- 
sents every varipiy of hill and dale j the 
coast is indented by niimerou* inlets^ 
and the diinate vnnBhlc. From the^e 
circunistances the north-western In- 
dian dift'ers remarkably from tlie liunt- 
inj^' tribes. His form is lest nervoui 
atnl wthk'tic, but is more corpulent. — 
His count eniince is more open to va- 
ried expression, and he has lt:sa dilfi- 
cully in adoptinjr new usag^es. Their 
wars are less bluody thitn untong the 
hunting races, and instead of indiscri- 
miiiiUe massacres j the milder ulter* 
native of slavery is adopted, and 
as their contests are not for their 
hunting grounds, consequently they 

y 

^^ Tmr kindness of a friend ot M. de 

I Sismondi bus pliiced in our hands the 

I very able volume vihose title stands 

I at the head of this article, and which 

I is intended to form the first of a series 

I of speculations on the social sciences. 

f We MTC not nnthankftil for an interven- 

tion which has procured for ourselves 
a momentary relaxation from the pet- 
tiness of private politics ; and which 
enables us for a while to contemplate 
the lofty and beutitifiil Tbcorv of Go- 
vernment apart from the dnlrfssing 
characteristics which, in all our expe- 
rience of its practical nporatioti, the 
interests and passions of men have 
minpled with its details. Too often 
our chity compels ns to be cn^dged 
with this most un;^riicious drjmrt(nent 
of the subject ; too often are we 
obliged to pass from the character of 
metisurrs to the incapauity of men, 
whose folly would nmke the besit mea- 
sures inelfective, and give uddititinal 
virulence to the wor^t. It is a real 
relief to tnrn from this unjtnous pros- 
pect, which revpal^ nil the least attrac- 
tive qualitie.tt of human nature, t4> those 
wider and more theoretical views in 
which we may soothe Hope and Imagi- 
nation by dwelling on its possible ad- 
vancement to political greatness j nay, 



(ire not contending for ihdr essU 
ence. 

It was our intention io hate fol- 
lowed out iliese obscrvotlons by « 
more extensive anulysis of the Indian 
character, but must deft-r our remarks 
till some future opimrtmuty, when an 
outliuc of the filiations of the American 
tiihes, and the affinitif»s of tbrir Un- 
guagcs may afford much curious and 
interesting matter. 

Our opinion of Mr, Irving*^ work 
may be easily inferred from the tenor of 
our obscrvutiuns. It i? written in a style 
worthy of ]Mr. Irvlng's rc^putatiou ; the 
Iticts are narrated with the ntmusT fitle- 
lity ; and in truth, the general aci."urucy 
of the work is surprizing, as the author 
never visited the remote regions of the 
west. The book has all the interest 
of a work of fiction, combined with 
the accuracy of a historical narrative. 



SISMONDI ON* THE COMTITtlTlONS OF FREE NATIOXS.* 



to regard the very vices and errors of 
public leaders as Ibrming, scarcely less 
than their few and scanty virtues, n 
part of the ]irolongcd discipline by 
which the civilized world may be 
educating iiieff into future legislative 
perfection. 

Of these adv^mce?, M. do SismoncH 
expresses himself in a sirnin of lofty 
confidence. The despotisms that have 
crnslied the mind, tlie revolutions that 
have infuriutcd it, the follies that have 
retarded it, the bigotry that has tram- 
melled it, are all prrgnant with hope 
to this |}rophct of hai^piness to come. 
The glory of nuii<nis has been 
again and again wrecked upon these 
rocks ; it is for political Wisdom to 
light tlie fragments into a (lame that 
may be the warning beacon of all 
fninre uges. Thus the whole world of 
intellect may give itself the experience 
of an individuiil mind, and profiting 
by the errors of its past historic life, 
make them its ilirectors to prnspective 
grcatnefs. That this is a ditficnlt task 
— this application of old lessons to 
new circumstances — we have ever 
been but too well satisfied : and the 
very ability of the work before us has, 
perliaps, tended to increase the con- 
viction. With all its eloquence and 



• «( Eiudos sur les Consiitutioat des Peuplea Ltbres." 
Stsmoodi. A Parii, ISS6. 



Par J, C« L. Siiaonde d* 



184J7.J SUmondi on the ConsiUuimns of Free Nations* 



177 



all its trulh, how few diiiitinci m\6. d<?- 
terminate rules hus the genius of its 
author been able to offer For the actiiul 

rDtiee (>r iiattuns \ How true are 
irencraiities but how re*lrictfd in 
applicotion ami unceriain iti event its 
particuliir m<itrirctioui! Witti what 
tfncrgy uml effect ure the grt^at ends 
of Icgisbtiori dcsiufiiatccl, with what 
compitralive liesititncy and Vtijiiieiie^-s 
the means to attain th<»in! That he 
knows and acknuvi ledges a defeat 
which l)€loug^ ill truth not to kimtttf 
but to the iiivtneible difficulties of his 
^t^cif h as much an indiraiion oi' the 
gBfierttt uiodcmiion and wisdom uf tlie 
writer, as the really admirable attempts 
which he has made to overcome it are 
€>f hi8 phitosofihical sagaeity and depth. 
And, ader all, iu rightly estimating 
inch works as these it is not the "spe- 
iiii] rules'* (in logiciil phrase) of policy, 
ilicable to particular cases, tliat wo 
Ito demnnd^ — the schemes and secrets 
Apolitical practice ; but the **iicneral 
rules" and ohjerts of social utiion — not 
Laic's, but the Spirit of Laws. 

Considered then aR a sketch of the 
pro[»er aims of le^i^lution, and thiB 
general principles which should g-overn 
every attempt to realize them, this 
^.fplume is Taluable Lx'yond ahnust any 
' tniibr work which it has been our 
fortune to ace for many yeai^. These 
are no untested theoric^s i the weakly 
ehiltircn of enthusiasm and inexpe* 
nefie« ; ihey are the snun<l and vigor- 
L jpp o^priiig of more thati forty yeiirs 
p^pidy *>' ihc history of a^^socialed umn. 
A profound research of [>ast ages, a 
watchful experience of the present, 
have given to M. de Sismondi qualifi- 
cutions for poHlical speculation une- 
oQulledf it is probable, in Knrcjpe. 
The Btoryist of the Ilatijin Ke])ublics 
and of France, can scarcely fail to 
have learned that grrai art of histori- 
cal gcnenilization, which* in the simila- 
rUies of recurring events, dctr cts the 
^cat principles that ev^'rhistiugly per- 
vade society — substantially identical, 
ihough reappenring under a thousand 
"Icrent mauife^tutitms : and the keen 
ervcr of the events of the last half- 
ntury h&^ had the advantage of wit- 
ting a series of human attairs more 
bb with instruction, more pregnant 
with valuable experience, than any 
eqnat jxrrtion of the modern history of 
the world > The work which M. de 
Sifimoijdi now presents to the siniisls 
l<||f Europe was undertaken, as we have 
MMcd, forty years since. It was then 
intcnfled to be carried to a great ex* 
Vol.. IX, 



tpnt ; ** to comprise an exposition and 
criticism of each of the free constitu- 
tions of wlueb we preserve monu- 
ments.'' The first two volumes were 
presented to the Institute, but never 
printed. The resnit of the mnre ela- 
borate re^searches in hirtury which the 
author has since prosecuted, and of 
the eniarcjed experience which he has 
derived from die eventful changes of 
Europe, has been to throw the light 
of u siTonfjer evidence upon bis original 
V line's, wiiilc Ldtering eousiderably his 
iiiuiiiier of delivering and enforcing 
lhf*m. 

The spirit of this book, as <tf all M. 
de Sismondi s w riiings* is strongly tinc- 
tured with the rejmblieanism proper to 
a patriotic citizcti of Geneva ; but it is 
the republicaTusin of a [dulnsopber as 
well as of a Swiss. Siieh a man knows 
well that all mo*b"4 of government are 
but means to a hiirh and noble end ; 
and that where that cud in fully at- 
tained, the means become absolutely 
indifFereiit. A political ^ peculator who 
addresses the rea«5on of mankind and 
not the prepossessioufi of a party, will 
not, it is true, admit witlj tlie [joet that 
" wliate'er is best admimslered is best :'* 
he knows that this is but the licensed 
esagsreration vvhlcb the necessary nnl- 
vcraabty of poetry requires for its me- 
trical epigrams i that there are forms 
of government who«e evils no perfec- 
tion of mere adminiet ration could re- 
move ; and forms of government which; 
while human nature remnins the siimc, 
we can never hofie to see wril admi- 
nistered. But wliile sneh a thinker 
advocates the adoption of parricular 
sehemr^g of polity, and st es in them 
incommunicable advaniage-*, he only 
advocates their adojititm on the HHppcH 
sfthm that the public mind either is 
snfficienfly familiarized to these systems 
to embrace them with conlmlity, or 
presents a tabija rnna upon which all 
systems may come into equal competi- 
tion. We cannot forcibly and sud- 
denly iufluct new codes mdess we can 
with e^ual suddamess aboli'^h old re- 
collections. We may despise men's 
prejudices, but wc must legislate for 
thtm. And, therefore, ^^hiie M, de 
Sismondi fipeuks and writes as a genuine 
son of Switzerland, and to vcw states 
unufl'ected by the remembrances of an- 
cestry and nuboimd by the tett<'TS of 
custom, recommends some moddication 
of the form which national predilec- 
tions have consecrated to liis own rea- 
son, he is fully alive to the merits of 
others, can admire the energctii; unity 

% 



178 



Simnoadi on the Conatilutiims of Free Nations. 



[Feb. 



of ihe royal as ^ell as the ardent public 
igpirlt ot the re|Hib1icuu eiecutive^ aod 
Ifecognizes inotitiieiaUlc eases in which 
fapparent oad theuretical amelioration 
Hi to be puTchased by such a disruption 
I oF ancient ties and such a violutian t>f 
I biiUowed customs u^ would weaken or 
► destroy those principles to which all 
\ government is indebted far its existence 
or its continuance. 

Love and Fear^ say a M. de Sis- 
inondi» are the two great social uio- 
lives of nmn, the tneans by which all 
gtales ^f ipsociution arc maintained in 
, existence j and these tenii^, understt>od 
in their most general Bense» may serve 
to desiijnale the lirst fcreat classification 
of huutan governments. The fonoer 
pnnciplfi, under whntever form it mani- 
fest itself — w helber iliii atlaehnient of 
the citizen to hii coontrv s institutions, 
be a sentiment of cnli^^htened sell- 
iDler^st, or a sentimtnt of graiitudc 
towafds a protecting constitution, or a 
Bcntiment of justitiktble pride in influ- 
encing its laws aiiii decisions, or ift hat- 
ever other modification of patriotic 
feeling constitute his aUVctionate re- 
gard for his native land — is the source 
and sup|>ort of iibeiid constitutions. 
The principle of Fear, on the con- 
trary, ia that which consolidates all 
those unhappy combinations of men in 
w hich the object of comhiuiiiion is the 
happiness not of all but of a few — 
which would instantly dissolve if their 
members were free — and which under 
the name of ud mixed dtxpotic or ser- 
vile governments have Ion;* been the 
curse and disgrace of hunnm reason. 
These miserable combinations are 
wholly rejected by political science ; 
she regards them but as anomalies and 
abortions ^ and the only modes of 
association whose perfcctionment she 
l"ecognizes as the object of her doc* 
trines, are thosa whiclu founded on 
the better principles of human nature, 
serve in their turn to exalt the prin- 
ciples on which they rest. 

That the progress of reason, and 
the study of the aims and meanj of 
government, is rmlly lending' to the 
advancement of this ^rreat cause of 
genuine liberty, we would, w ith M. de 
Sisrnondi, gladly behcve, evtn in sj>ite 
of the disheartening aspect presented 
by existing Euro|>ti4u politics, and the 
still more discouraging cxhiLiiion wltieh 
our own conutry offers of the prostitu- 



tion of the language of freedom to the 
vilest purposes of temporary excite- 
ment* It maVf we Jo believe, be 
affirmed^ with probability, that the 
light of political trutli w spreading, 
notwithstanding the cfforls of its ene- 
mies to cloud or quench it, and the 
still more injurious folly of ita friends, 
who would prefer to see in it not its 
own sober beam, but the wild unsteady 
gl^e of conflaicration. In the very 
centre of disturbance the common leme 
iff polkici is slowly maturing ; the con- 
tention of parties is originating a better 
lesson than party itself could ever 
teach J and though there are still many 
(and will perhaps be in every age 
many) who are willing to believe that 
agitation and excitenjcnl are ueoes- 
sary ingredients in patriotism, there 
are many, too, who have learned to 
acknowledg^e that every governmetil 
may be fairly acc|uiesced in, which 
offers peace, secnriiv, and sufficient 
opportunitieij of intellectual and moral 
developmetit. Our readers may wish 
for the melancholy gratificatioQ of 
hearing M. de Sismondi's own account 
of the present chaotic state of the 
nations which have aspired to be the 
modern champions of freedom in Eu- 
ro])e. After alluding to the hard fate 
of the Italian Republics, over whose 
tomb he still hatiga with the fondne^s 
of a patriot* deepened by the peculiar 
interest which an historian must ever 
fnn) in llie long subject of his labours 
— to the perished republics of Ger- 
many — to tlie "royal republic" of 
Poland— ^ to the United Provinces de- 
graded, as he seems to think, into a 
munarehy— and to the revolutionized 
cantons of Switzerland — he proceeds 
, to coumicnt on the state of the comti* 
iulitmul tiivnarchies of Europe* 

*' Dam lea munarchies coostitutioii- 
nelltfs, le progrcs tist ^kment r^voqae 
en doutu. L'Angleterre, da beaucoup 
la pluB sage com me la plus heureuid 
d'tintris oUiis, a lutroduit un chAm^enoont 
esaentiel dan a la partie populairc de fa 
constitution ; maiit au heu dt> la rafferfoir 
ain&i,d3e s'eat trouvcti de% lors ebranlee ctanc 
iQUtti^ hen parties; da haines plus vio- 
Icnttis 3*y sunt nianifestees, let partis s*y 
sout coinbiittus avec plus d*achamtim«D|, 
totitti^ lea iuslitutiuiis antiques ont ^t£ 
meDaceea, el le» amis de leur }mjt ooi pu 
craindrt' f|ii'U ne rett&t bient^t plus n«a ■ 
di} cette coastituUon qui avail iait long- ■ 



# M. d« Sismondi is himself descendecl from one of the families of the ancient 
iMiti f«pul>hc« 



I 



J 



1 S37.] Sirmondi on (he Constitviiont uf Free Natiom, 



179' 



temps leur gloire. En France^ Je peiiplo 
ll^ltot t*n l8tX) une victotrc' t^i«^'iialcL-, i^a 
&v«ur du pri>gre»» contru It* ptiiti dti 
mouvecDtiDt retrograde, el cependant, si 
uouB i*coutous loules lee voix qui pEirteiit 
de \a France, filths s'niTordcat a alfirnier 
^ae le pays n des lors rucultf au lieu 
d^HVmiver ; les republirains arcusewtiif les 
ftvoir tniliM uue pAriie det chefs qui lea 
avaJcnt con du Us 4 la victuire ; les Jcgilii* 
DiitLeii prcteudent qu'uuo autc^rite usurpee 
e«t toujours via]«nte et tyiuunique^ ai lea 
miuist^rielB coiivieikiieut que ]t* piiyH, 
apr^ iivtiir sabi uuti revoluliuiit est trci'p 
^bniult^ pour tupfjorter emore les libertcji 
duiit il uurait pu juulr en lenipii^ dt* culmc. 
Lvt pvttte^ inoniircldt's d'Allemagnc), 
apr^i avoir obteuu prt}s<|ue touttti des 
chitrtes conatitutionnelles, B'apei^^uivent 
avr^ t'Loiiiieuieat qu'eiles oe ticii^ni'Lit rk^n 
encore ; les depute? de)» tinoe 8ont «ddi^es 
dtf douner leur a!i>steDtinkeul k tuut ce 
qu'on Ifur pro|>o?^e; ceux dt'6 iiulres ne 
tuut pRifc Lcuutes, ou »ont mcDiictjji par 
one puiss«iucu ctningeru, ou sniit detries 
|wr lea efforts qti*t»ri foil umir leur donner 
In reputittion d-incopacMte et d'i^nuraiice* 
Le» |iouv*emen»e»&, ij6s mtiraentancmtjnl 
de» revolutions d'ltulie^ ont ^He anuse* 
pur ceux qui lea avoient el eve* d^HVoir 
Ihis*^ pttrdre leur cause par leur imperitii^ 
leur riuLW^Af, ou deft iiu^iiagenieua hurs de 
nitson, \jv Portugal, qui a tant conibiittu 
it taut jNDtiffert pour Tetablisi^enieoi d'uae 
ititutton librei (|tii a i&t6 si pubsam* 
__„t dirutte pour arrivpr a eon Lutj at par 
fWifeui ou le4 arme» des ^trangeret^ ^l pnr 
feft cooseils de k*ur C7tp6riei)c<3 ct di^ leur 
prudi^ace. vijit av«;c itiqululude Si^ji iujbli- 
tutLon» <*t »on exit^lrtice niumu com pi o- 
tui«i!s par lea rapriies d*iin<; ji^ne tille, 
L*E»p*iin>c fait iC'prouvcr ua beiiLiriiiiut 
ptiu art4t*r itjc'ore. Apriis ii^r plcure 
»ur too curlavaife, »ur I'uLroce et abeiurdtj 
Urauttic d'uii mouurfjue iJigmt et p:vrjuri% 
on nTHit >alue RVfc di** tris de joie ruiqiel 
5jiltf 6a vi'tive ft Ml fille uviiient liiit li la 
IMliori, pnur defeudre li's droiLii qu'ellea 
lui neridaieiiL Celtc delivraaic ii'u fuo- 
duit qu*utje cffroynUu guerre rivil<a; d«.'9 
Iof¥ deux partJB 6« sout runiilMttui» avec 
uiie f6rocite inouje» tst lou.^ deux otil pre- 
t4SQdii ^Ire Ic parti du peuple. Celui 
pour lequel §'Hnijciit daiib le liord led 
oiiDpagnes et la pof^duce dea vilit^«, eai 
Juialeineut cetul qui repou^st! loute inno- 
wtioQ, toote extension de» droits nution- 
4iiii; celiii qui t*'«ilacl»e avec une sorte 
lie fareur 4 toud lu» libus, a toute« les aa- 
perstiti(»ijfi» a tuute» les liviccs de I'escla- 
vi«^ 1^ parti coatraire u'in spire guere 
plu> de ctifdiauce ou d'esp^mtico ; ua lu 
vu violent dan» la destructioa et^nhaLiJe 
a rernustrutre, attuqacr In religion u cau^e 
diO Ia feUpcrBtttion ; la ruyaut^ qui lui 
«f&ii fendu Texisteuce^ 4 cuut^e de« vices 






do la cour ; les fratichisew et lea liberty* 
des proviaces, par un vaiii un:ifiur pour 
I'uniforiijitt; ; In propriety et bi foi pub- 
Jique, pour se dispenser de pnyer sea 
dettee; et ii^urtout ou Fa vUj itii'^rfit et 
d^liriiiit, !!>acril]er rapideanent la repuLatioii 
de tuuri bcs ^erviieurs. II iippelait bien 
uu pouvoir cenx qui avnieut le plu» soul^ 
tert pour lut^ Le pint doun^ di< guges a Ifi 
patrie; nmis au baut de peu de semaiues 
il les accHsait iuipiloyablerru-rit de touted 
les fsmtes qu'il le* aviiit fon et lai-mt^me 
a couiinettre, il les totivrmil d'oppvobro, 
et il dtimauduit leiii' lui^e en jugemenL'* 
T*» this gloomy prosjiect the eondi- 
lioii ol' Atiicnca Iniri^rs an acc('ssit>u of 
gltjom* TIjc (furuier) S[miiish und 
l^nrtij;.nietst' states, t bough enj oyiiig con- 
st ilniioos noiriiijrilly Ireo, an* scenes of 
uiidvilised violtuce and unceasing n* 
vulutloii ; the more irnpt^rtiiiit rcgioiiP» 
tlH)*e wliicli owed their esdutiis^tion tu 
Great Britain — nitli all tlieir " niati riiil 
prosperity .^^ tlicir boiiiidlejis I'xtent tjf 
turritury, their abnudance of eiiifdoy- 
iiieut. *' their p*>!iM\^ion by bereditary 
right ol the mo>t laboured syBitMn of 
Irgisslatioo, and of the adokiiiistratiou 
best adapted to their wanti — ^if all the 
kntiHleilLie uutl experience id' an old 
people with the lieehije*« und vij^^mr 
of a new people," uith nil tbL^se njitural 
and at'i|inred udvaitluge^^ — art; yot, aa 
their etnujuct betrays, bntlitile imbned 
with the genniae B^^irit of political 
equity. They nut only maintain 
slavery^ bu< they tutcrdiet vilt educa- 
lioEt 10 the iw^^o roee; llicy refuse all 
Bccwrity of liberty or pro|jerly to the 
free black 3» aud they punish with ilie 
whole weight of the pr.pultir venj.n?aijce 
every niaiiifestation of justice or corn- 
moil hnnninity towards these Uhhuppy 
men. What cxru^r ikv^W we devise 
here ? These things take place by 
the vote of u whole nation ; this ria- 
tio:iLil sin is perpetnited by no decree 
of arisloeratic i I liberality or monar- 
rhieal desjMitisni, it is* d<vni' ia the full 
light uf pnidicity, und by the inoi^t uu- 
iningled deinoeralic coTn»tilntiot) in 
the vvttrld. Give us, may it not be 
said with plaus^ibility, the arhiirary 
instltniions of Frus-iia, of Dumnark, of 
Austria, in jinferenee to the tyranny 
of the ftiends of liberty in America.' 
If these be the blcstiiiif^s of frccilonu 
give us the Eihame and the dfcnsttjrs of 
servitude! 

It is true, that all this is formidvible 
enough to the sanguine speculator, yet 
ought it nut, argues M. de Si^jniondip 
to diseouruge hiai. If the hopes of 
the politiciiin be disappoiuted at theae 



im 



Sijimondi on the Canstitutions of Free Nations. 



[Feb. 



unfoTtwTiate res^ults, the science of tlic 
I polUlcian may aid him \u demoDstraiing 
[their causes. la oiAtiy cusea these rc- 
{sults are tht'inseW^^s exnyg-e rated by 
[the fervour of journalists wlto would 
[aacnGce thp reputation of their country 
[to the gfTtitification of anrniosity nr 
[avarice ; while io urhkrary states evils 
I Ikr more oppressive may be at work, 
jthou^'h buried in impenetrable secrecy 
I by the censors hip of the press. But 
[the best encouragement h to be found 
[in the actual progress which the dis- 
t;«emiDation of just polltietil ihiukitig 
Ibas effected in the arbiir^Ty goveru- 
[inente themselve.s. A principle i:J iiuvv 
[admitted which Cdntidna in it the g^erm 
I of endless improvement ; a principle 
I established beyond ihe power oF rijyal 
[despotism or of mob dcspotl-im to 
I shake ; the irrcat principle, that the 
\ol^ect of ail ^oveninseiii is ilie 
fgood tyf a/L Simple us this truth now 
[appears, the discipline of centuries was 
J Teqtnreil to teach it. Who heum now 
j of the " gUify of lh*> innnarcir as the 
[iole or great end of government? yet 
[who heard unv thinfr else in the days 
jof Louis XIV.? The Tory of old 
[was ollen the mi?»uidt'd defimder of 
ipreposteroi*** theories of the sacreduess 
I of all authority, however acquired or 
r maintained, madly ar^niing that power 
► was c^^nsecrated by its very cxitttence ; 
I the Cunservative of modern times is 
{the raliniial difender of iried and 
I established institutions that have vin- 
Miealed their propriety by their per- 
[inancrtce.a^iijnit the idle and niischicv- 
fous spirit uf change — a spirit even 
[more irrational in muriy i>f its votaries 
than the pn^sive obedience of elder 
■llmcB^ — :i kind of pttxmism which 
Fadopt-s l)iit one principle in its political 
I'philiKophy,— Whatever is is not right, 
jAgdn, compare (as another instance 
(of the improvemeut for which we con- 
rtend) the mornliti/ of modern and of 
former cottrtt ; the decency of conduct 
that governs their precincts, with the 
wild pri>tiigaey of by-gone royalty ; 
ami where vie** still reigns the sober 
secrecy wfiieh now shades it from the 
public gaze, with the shaiuelcss ex- 
posure of it8 poUuitoui^, in the days 
when n crown conhi sanctify every 
immorality, and thv mintim seemed to 
be accepted in its fidhst hterality, that 
*' Kin^s fou/ii ilo no wri>ng»" Another 
article of which M. de Sismondi re- 
minds us as j^ignaliziii!^ the trimnphs 
of intellectual adv*(ocement» is the Re- 
, form of Criminal Justice, the substiiu- 
tii>n of a system of pnnisibmeiits not 



the less effective because they are 
humane, for the judicial barbariiies 
which sullird even the rctgn of the 
just and liberal Henry 1V» The 
victories of rational politics are not 
least certain w here they are least ap- 
parent. Prussia — M, de Sismondi 
scarce I}"- does justice to frhat happy 
country — and Aus^triai bt>th of which to 
the cursory observer seem bo resolutely 
stationary , and ail whose noveltie? ftf»- 
pear to be those of speculation, not of 
action — the novelties of the lectore- 
roora and the closet^ not those of the 
cabinet or popular assembly^ — have, 
nevertheless, felt the universal im- 
pulsion, and their course refomblcs 
those vast astronondccil cycles, where 
the interval of a few years can dis- 
cover little or no progression in the 
mass» but where the com pari sod of a 
large period detects palpable and per- 
ceptible advancement. In fact, it i« 
now evident — nor has it ever been the 
majtim of this journal to deny it — 
that elements before unthought of have 
entered into political calculation ; that 
d(jctrines have produced events, and 
events have still more powerfully pro- 
duced doctrines ; that the thinking 
faculty has forced il^ way into the 
conduct of governments, boldly sum- 
moning men to be swayed not by 
habits but by rcasi ns : — and the heart 
of the patriot, and the intellect of the 
philosopher will now feel it their true 
duty jtot to urge but to rent rain t or to 
urgt'onitt to gititle. Above all, we would 
say that It is their wisdom to remem- 
ber, as" a great practical maxim, that 
w/iiie human nnhtre rcmami the tame, 
iio government can evtr realis^e the 
bright Ideal of f peculation ; that it is 
iherefore weak or wicked to exhibit 
this delusive phantom for any but a 
purely philosophical purpose ; and that 
in the pohticat, as in the individual 
constitution, nemo caret viftu^ optimui 
est qui mimmit ttrgdur. The best ex- 
isting government is that, wherever it 
he, wiiich makes t/ie greatest provision 
for social happiness and moral pro- 
gression. To expect that this olyect 
is perfect fj/ attained, or will be perfectly 
attained by any scheme which human 
prudence can devise, is to pronouttce a 
direct conlradlciiou — it. ia to suppose 
in framing a govern meat that our na- 
ture has attained to the very perfec- 
tion for whose distant production it 
Icgis^ldtcs, and that it h to l)e governed 
by rules, the very contemplation of 
whose possibility prcsu]ipose3 all go* 
vernnient needlesa. 



IBS7.] Sismondi on t/te ConsHluiions of Free Naiions, 181 



The cause of rattonal freedom ap- 
pears then to be on the advance, in 
spite of Its failures, and in spito of the 
foille^ and illuainiis of its advocates. 
The great object of ^ood men must 
now be to enlighten iu course with 
the systetnali^ed experience of pHi»t 
mt>€«, and above ull, to dilfuse a spirit 
of generosity and candour umon|^ po< 
iitical reusoners, — for how can men he 
expected to be of one mind in csii- 
matiru;^ a subject which no two of tiiem 
contemplate in the same lightj and where 
the dirierence is really not a differ- 
eiictj of judg-ment'^ but of pcrcrptiom .** 
A citi^eirs estimnte of tlie poliiiciil 
MuwMHnt bonnftt will be lire resull of 
all the miuglt'd induetiecs of his ciiu- 
cation ; and where the di«^einUiie of 
no iiJ3n*s uiind is acriirtitrly the same 
with that of his nr»^hbuiir\ it is sorely 
roost prejKistiTons h* exj»ect that ihe 
remitin^ decisions will be tlie sami\ 
The irolh is, ihut thoujrh upon ni! 
points Btjsc<?ptible of perl eel exami- 
nation, and removed from the sphere 
of passion, reascHi is ever a [irineiple 
of agreement, it is not reaam but paHj^ 
that muM be cnlled in to produce |)o- 
liiical union. And thtmgh such unions 
are as obstinaiely adhesive a* any 
which reason ever consolidated, Ihere 
ii still an unfortunate distinction be- 
tween tlie o[jenition of the two. One 
of the earlieat deductions of reason is 
the obligation of candour and tolera- 
tloii ; but where parly is the principle 



of concord, in a tripte proportion to its 
energy in combining the particles of 
iu own mass, it acts to separate that 
mass from all others ! Its principle of 
attmctioii is a principle of repulsion 
also ; while its approbation is a 
bigoted devoliori, its dissent is rancour 
and abborrence. 

As it is not in our power on the 
present occasion to pursue any regular 
analysis of M* dt^ Sisrnoudi's very able 
volume, we puss, however un willingly , 
from Ids bitroductory dissertation, the 
earlier passatres of which have fur- 
nished the text of tlie foregoing desoU 
lory observiitlon^ and proceed to give 
some stitiht general account of the 
plan of the work itself. We sincerely 
Sriy ffTtwiUtng/f^^ for ill ere are not many 
pages turned in oor progress which do 
not contuin either ¥otne recognised 
truth admiriibly exprejised, or some 
striking expojjition of novel views. 
We psirticularly refer to the very in- 
geniou«i account of ihe legislator's duty 
of cooeiliatiiig the interests of monar- 
ctiical, aristocratical, and demoeraiical 
power, as they are found in Jhii, with 
thi? principles of the*e powers as they 
are presented in 8]>eculation ; arcom- 
modating the absolute rules of theory 
to the prejodict's, alfectioas^ and habi- 
tudes of actual i>olitie8 ; — to the re- 
marks tm the limits of the power of 
society over iadividuula j — and to those 
on the true nature of mixed constitu- 
tions. We are not sure, however, that 



• *• Let ns/* says M» de S. *' remember tlmt we nre all philoaoj^hers of different 
sect*; that w*e all have the snrae end in view ; that, uairnated by tbe same desire, we 
all seek the same truths the srirae \visdom.'* . . . But then — '* How could wa 
be of one opiuioni since our retison — a htimnn and fidlihlti revision — our senBibility^ our 
hnstgi nation, represent to tis in a manner so rlifferent the wVereitjn good of nationn^ 
the great object of sociol science ? There nro mi»n who see nothing above quiet 
ao4 iiecurity, while olh*?rs valne ooly activity, clevelopment, ahundnnce of life. 
Home have regarded virtue a-^ the ^reat end ot hunian asswiation, but they do not 
«gT«e on what is to be understood by the word. To one clasi it is miliUmj virtue^ 
DHtionn] eminence in nrms; to nn other it is moiHeniticin, self ifovem men t, and purity 
of mannera ; while to anothiT patriotism, the snerirtie of one's »clf to society, is the 
only public virtue. In the iheorio* of national we>dlh, there is the same diversity In 
detignutlug the oliject of society; whether it *ha]l fie excitement of industry, 
activity of labour, equal diffusion of wealth, or the luxurirs of colossal individiml for- 
tunes. Another body of politienl philosophtTS. di^r^gnrd thu mural and the mfJterial 
THfw of social progress, the in/c//ec/Mf// movement ahmi* attrRcts ikdr notice; and even 
00 thl< lh«*y differ widely, some demnnding a universal diffusion of education, and 
oLhan neglecting the mas*, and reqairiftg the pruduclion of tminrnl mm as the great 
glory of « community. . , . Where is ihe commfju measure fnr objects bo ditfer- 
wrl i or» how «hiill we pcr&uade him wdio selectR any one of them in prelcrenre to the 
rwt» ibai be i« in error? While we jjrad.iim lb:il thui nation i> truhf free wftfrt: ffte 
^^gfional renmn dictates ihe laws, wc cannot but know that this reason will net pvo- 
^^Klic« every where the same verdict. We mn«t perceive that truth c-nnnot be the 
^^Kfe for natures that differ from each other, and that are all incomplete; i we must 
W perceiv« that truth is one oidxffor ike One Being who seet it enlirtu" 



182 



ASlmnondi on the ConMiUiom of Free Naiiam. 



[F^ib. 



we perlV'cU)' uiidcrfttaud the force uf 
M. lie Si*mon<li'a objection to the 
theory of the eqnilihration of powers, as 
con?iliriitiyLr thi- liberty tS u ^tate. He 
iir^^ca liial in eoii«iistency with the very 
coinpariaou whieli h Iminn^ted in this 
metaphor, ll»e constt^nence of such an 
equiponderation would be not uciion hut 
absolute immohiUhf, But wctio not con* 
ceive thiit tlie announcers of this view 
of con«titmiori8 ever coutf'niphited Ibiit 
the rxjiiihbratiii*; forces should be [icr- 
petodly engtii^^^ed iu mutual rpswtuiH!H. 
The ciiuilibrium to which I bey refer 
h one uol so much of active as of ]»o^ 
Bible etVort — the ojiposi ugr forces arc 
not exerted, but tliey are cfipabh of 
being exerted, Tiic machine reaily 
cJiEjchiir^res \u office by ll^e consent uf 
tbu pjirts^ and tlie resuk is one of 
cooperation not of counterpoise ; b*it 
there is alwiiys a r<jservc4 provisinn 
tbat no part may have it in \\^ power 
lo au^^mriit ita force unduly. The 
•mooih imbed aeuon of the whole is 
lilie [uTfectiuii of the ijolllical condi- 
rtion ; the provi^on of reciprocal checks 
yU iis sufety* Tlie one trives ficace arid 
tprospcrity,the othemeeurity ; and wiiile 
]:we admit ihe benefits of ibe eoopcra- 
|4ion which iiitinn*^ the former, wc can- 
I not overlook the necesHly of ibe scpnra- 
I tion which constitutes the latferhtessing. 
The essays of wiiieli tiiis firat Vi>- 
kjume consists are classed onder three 
iTieads — the Powers wldrh the pntph 
* ought to preserve — the Powers which 
arc iudcpemlent of the people — and 
the Pro;:ress tif nations towards free- 
dom,* The deep inrcrcst of these 
Itopics will seurcely be qnestioned ; 
I and we g^hidly avow that Ihe proBt of 
jpernisiiio: the speculations of the pbilo- 
I pophicid republican who canvaiises them 
■ in this work, is lo our rnind augmented 
by the result to which, as we believe 
'. iiid tm-^t, Uiey must lead every think- 
ing puhjcet id" the British throne ; an 
^ Recession of attachment to the consti- 
tntion under which (the exprisjion, we 
Q^'w^ IB somewhat old-fiijihioncd) it has 
been our fortunate destiny to be born, 
and an ecpml accession of enthusiiism 
In the resolution to defend its form and 



principles against every assailant whose 
contemptible fully would ridicule, or 
who^^e ambitious malignity wouSd 
menace them. 

A mo ni,^ the nunierottf real or affected 
worj^hippcrs t»f political freedom, form- 
ingr as they do an assembly vast ia 
reabty, but where, there can be little 
dartbt, the tumult multiplies the ap- 
parent numfier, it is certamly rather a 
startlin*^ consideration that the simple 
te?rt of caliiuj^ for a definition of this 
iu>portant term would ineviUbly spHl 
the unanituons host into a tbon&and 
hostile conelaves. The inseriptton ou 
every banner is the same, but the in* 
terp fetation in every bosom variet. 
F^^r proof we appeal to their writinps, 
the matured ereations of rlie closet; to 
their speeches, the sudden and perhaps 
the fiincerer crea( ion^ of temporary ex- 
citement ; to their actions, the siiK 
cerest indications of alL Philosophers 
instruct us that no two individuals can 
beiiold the same irntnediate object of 
vision, or hear the same inimeihate 
object of audition — the luminous form, 
or the harmonious sound, which ire 
hastily conclude to be sin[jlc objects of 
perception, are erjually iu their causes 
and themselves, substantially different 
to every perceivin;; mind ; and this 
common object of prditieai idolatry to 
which we are adverting', furmshes an 
in^tane« of a similar itlu^^ive identity* 
Ti» some a constitution is frec^ when 
every btdividual born on its foil po»- 
&e«ses a right of tnffrage — ^(o some 
when he possess es a ri^ht of e/cciing — 
to a tiiird class when he possesses the 
right of being himwlf elccird. With one 
party freedom is reeoucilcjihle with a 
amstUucnt €i$scmb/j/ alone— with an- 
other the vuie hf^ btdht suQieiently 
g^uaranlecs it — witli another the tibolh- 
iian nf kf^nditary Icgiihdittn — w'ith an- 
other the ahoittion of hvrrditnry vt<jh- 
nnrchif — with another the abntiiion qf 
ifta'eJt on pubUcnfkm — with all, the su* 
preinaey of their own particular r:iction. 
llow irrational to denominate these 
multitudniou^ parties a single party, 
becauiie tbi^y a^ree to call iheir coii- 
tlicting theutiei by a common name I 



• The ambiguity of the Wf»rd pcopta, notwithcf tun ding M, ile Sitmondt*ii care to 

I discriminate ita meanm|rs ( pjj« 88, 89,) iTcates a ctmiinuid thiDcuIty in hi* wrttiogs* Wo 

I Would adopt the plun ofsbiiply IrmislutinK Ihis Protenn lerui on all tx^cn^ionK. leaving 

it to expLiTn ilfiirll", if it were nut tluit ii;; plurul birm, wliich the French have the 

advautJi^e ot emphiyiiij:, •I't'oi'v to lu^ Murei'tyidz('d in tiic present En^'li(*h laugunjre. It 

wouhl pr^jbably Gti u u^eiul inuovatiuu to iuimduce iht} latter iuto our political ter* 

.minolujjjy. 



1837,] Sismofidi on tlie Constiiutiom of Free Nations. 



183 



I How aV»siu-<] to designate them by any 
but tb'At utlnljMte iu which they ttU 
coiiu-ide, imnioly, TtiB Passion vor 

. ra4!*«E ! A well chosen bond of" 

' uiiit»n, for it can never tenriinate ; the 
party of Frrcdum t*n\h when freedom 
is obtained — ibe party of Clmnge is, 
from its e^sotitial natorei in&kitiiibb aod 
eternal. 

M, de Sismondi places the question 
of political freedom, as i: regard the 
legislative constiuJtioii» npon a Hrmer 
bu^iis ; and the aeeurity of Ids etrnc- 
ture answers to the depth of his 
fbtindation. A rmtioii^ accordriig: to 

I bim« is Icgistatively frfe when the 
lotal intelligence of that nation U 

j <!ailed out UfKni every [lublic ques- 
tion, h alforded fuli upporiunity of 
Ifiving* and receiving eidiglilenineut, 
Mtid has its flii;d decision curried into 
ellecl by the tiuit of the tmtioiml will. 
The trreat end uf natiomd as* ol* indi. 
vtduul existence is to mi ari^ht^lhe 
^'reat means of acting aright is to ap- 
jily Mr iv/i<de rcmurci"* o/' rtaxon^ and 
the art of politics is the art of facili- 
tating and securing ihisi upplication, 
and thence discovering the true utter- 
ance of the cMdightcned nhtional mind. 
All that tends lo produce this riffecL 
tends to freedom ; all that hinders it, 
however extolled for apparent libe- 
rality, uiinisters to real slavery* Let 
lint this appear barren speculation. 
We possess here, eloipicnily and argu- 
nicntatively established a valuable test 
by which all the plans of political 
theorizers may be equitablv tried \ and 
by their accordance to wlucli omstitu- 
tional alterations are to be approved 
or condemned. Do they tent! to en- 
lighten the national niindl^ Do they 
ttnd to facilitate the expression of that 
enlighten to cut ? What havoc would 
the«e simple interrogatories — trans- 
mitted to uj too Ironi the republiean 
Alps — produce among the republicans 
of Birminghara and Manchester:' How 
lerriBc the ordeal to the magnihcent 
boifibast of the Corn Exclninge I IT, 
for iofttauce, at the close of one of those 
ferocioud attacks on one of the two 
hereditary eataits of the realm, (the 
orher is spared yet a while %>n the prin- 
ciple of rolypheuiuss mercyt) a voice 
were innocently to suggest the t|u*'S- 
tiou — whether the projiosed measure 
of re volution — consisting as it does of 
the virtual suppression of one great and 
oiofit enlightened interest in the con- 



stitution, and elfeeted us it must be by 
rude disregard of the legal eourse of 
legislation — tended towanh securing 
the lull and nnforci'd expression of ibe 
entire national mind or not,^ — we sus- 
pect thit the ingenious audacity of 
the leader itimsell' ^"lould be for awhile 
at fault even in the nn«niibarrassini^ 
presence of bis " Iree and independent** 
slaves I 

Brought to the test which we have 
enounced-^that the object of a legisla- 
tive constitution bbonld be to collect 
the sum of the will, the intelligence, 
and the virtue of the oition, iu order 
to place each qupstioii in the focua of 
these coucentrnted riiys— the scheme 
of UHivenal tuffmgc is lound miserably 
wanting, As this is one ot'the favourite 
idols of our republican pmty, we will 
take the trouble of tjliowin^i? them bow 
a Gtnevese republican regards the ob- 
ject of their worsliip. fie considers 
the question, »« most political ques- 
tions may be considered, with refer- 
ence to the claims of right and to 
those of cijjediency. He shows that 
an original right of the miijority to go- 
vern the minority (which iv commonly 
assumed in this scheme) is utterly un- 
discoverable^ — ^tlie right if it exist, al- 
together depending on convention.-^ 
Since then^ from the origin of associa- 
tions, we can derive no support for 
this theory, let us look at tbcm in their 
actual state. The man, no longer an 
isolated beinL,% but u citizen, enjoying 
and acknowledging the advantages of 
such a condition, claims no right be- 
yond that of po8?^essing all political 
privileges which the interests of the 
whole perudl him. Any other right 
is a fallacy — a drcaou The right 
of a citizen is the expediency of 
the state : this surrender of natural 
lilicily to pubho utiHty is the price 
which the citizen pays for the auvan- 
Uiges of ciiizensliip.* This reasoning 
brings the qucbtion under the law of 
ej^pt'dk'Hcif ; and here we apply the 
test. Docs the exercise uf universal 
suHTage tend to aid or to stifle the de- 
velopment and expression of the en- 
iighttJied inteltlgi'nce of the nation ? 
Our answer is decisive^ whether we 
derive it from speculation or from ex- 
perience. Previous Iti all examina- 
tion of laets, it must be obvious that a 
system of governing by the multitude 
i^ii voices, " of counfiftg suH rages in- 
steail of weighing them^*' must neces- 



L 



* We may have gotn* in thist vxpositinu leyund M. de Sismoiidi*! views 
tine case seemed itnptsrfi^i without bome bucii compile tiou. 



To us 



r 



184 



Sismondi an the ConMiiuii€ns of Fne Natioiu* 



[FeL 



earily throw the cmitrol of public af- 
fairs into the luQd^ of those who, rram 
)uibU« and edncaiiou are least quuliHed 
lo direct Lhem rightly ; thiit thii niulti*^ 
ludu iu d pure de»Jt»cracy must be in* 
Viiriiibly bwayi^d not Uy rtason but l>y 
iititliority — wliKher it be the uuthority 
of prk-^t, i>r prttprietur, or of deiiiu- 
gojue — ami therefore mu«t be but the 
redeeturs of ii hgiit not their ovvu ; Uiut 
the same expteMtioiis whieh n-ijuhl re* 
comMieud sueb an exlcnstoii of privi- 
le^res uujrbt iNpmlly to eonlt r them on 
wouun uiid iiu eUihJrrii ; th^t Uie sci- 
ence <»t poliLieal initujsjremeiit is ot" all 
olfiers ti)Lit vvirioii reijuires the mo^t 
of patient wUi'tirioM, und protrarted 
Cptisideniriou~i|Uiiitie!« wtneli it viould 
be cbimt nt'iil in cxpe^ct iu the lUiise. ; 
thiit Uie virtiiou.4 uud enUgbteued are 
always A ujiuurity. and that to give to 
the ojdnioiis oFii/Wi men no more tbna 
the weight which Uduelothe opinions 
olthv h'tt^t filled wouhl be to loii(» |o 
the stHtr' \\s most valuable property, the 
wisdom oi' \iis members. " The nation 
cannot be welbg-overncd but by itd 
most virtuoiia and most eiiligbtcncd 
cili7.eriB. It is not that they, lu ftro- 
purtivMi to their virtue and inLclli^ence, 
Law a right lo the ioLvrdgnl^ : \i it 
that the liution, as sovereign* hiu a 
Tight to all the in t exigence fiml vtrtia that 
thtif fio^trtt/* Wliii would tliitik uf 
guiding d vo^ud un Hn unknown sea 
by the vutjttnlt/ of voices V Not in- 
deed tbut the pdothiia :i right to guide 
the vessel, but titut the vessel has u 
light to the service;* of the ]>ilot. M, 
dc SisuiQiidi puts \\n)& e^Ieetively — 
<* * Sliftll we steer for Chiua or for Ca- 
lifornia?* i» tiie (pieiitiuii put severully lo 
each sniltir in a vessel which we suppose 
to hnve mli^s^d its wny in tbu Soutli SiMu 



* Why, I do not know in wbj»t piirt of tkt 
^lobe w« nre,' unawer* the sailor | • I dp 
not know the dislance of the coft»tt ; i 
never even hecird of tuch plants at ChitiA 
or Cuhfornia; I confeM 1 had rather Bot 
voti% for I am not in a con'lition to mnke 
a choictf or have »iny prefereuew/ * ^o 
matter, you shadl vote, and your \*i>\» 
shvdl have fi« much weight h* ihnt of llMt 
skilful lest naviiTHlor ou b<<ard-' * Chiurt, 
then* he it \ the name l& »horWr» and J'U 
rememher it btrtter!' " 

Sueh is the unnihilittionof all intelli- 
gent g:rotniils of proceed ing". whf^n meo 
lire eoiisirlercd »«« simple utdtst^ and 
when all the di^trnctioirs of judjjmrnt 
and patriotism are h<sl in the e>ittibli^h- 
uient of a false and irrittiona) cquttlity. 

And what an accession of evidence 
does ejfpericnce be*itow on tijrsc con- 
clusions ! 7V«' viatt is rtvr rctrogradr, 
A?k tlie philosophers of Greece, the 
sltiteofthe Aiheni.in dcmt»rriicy, and 
these deep4hou^h!t'd republican? will 
tdl you of tt» brutality, its blindness 
it« c^i|>riee» it* big^otry, Its rn^live 
virtneSi and il^ permanent desj>ot- 
isin, Xo ont' writer of any n^me 
htjs ever spoken wiiliout diasattsfae- 
lion of the ^overnuient of the iinl- 
vcrsid ptipniur u^&nmbly ; the wise 
know that prejudice U the only cnei^y 
of i^norLince, Count voice* in Spain or 
PortiiL'id, and you will re[dttce the in- 
quisition ;• count voices in Kussiii, 
and you will preserve the dull despot- 
ism of the Cz ir, unmitigfiited by » sinjrle 
corrective institution. In Switzerland 
(it i« a Swiss citizen who tells us,) the 
can Ions which hjive enjoyed the maff- 
nilicent eipmhty of the universal vote- 
alt males over ei^fhtcen years of a^e 
hcin^quidified — are behind the rest of 
Switxerland, the rest of Europe, in in- 



• " Thtt masses,^ says M. do Siamomli, ns jf he had come fresh from an Irish mi- 
c^rdiHul oration, an >I still breathc^J the disgust which every re^l pntriot fceU at thrse 
holy harani^ues, where the altar is con vert eel lolo the tribuntt and the just iiothority 
of reli^'ion prosftituted to the misonible purjinac of awtikrnin|r or pr»>i«»rviii5r every foul 
iiiul liulf-forgutten prejudice which an ignorant pensantry run enterlnin ngainst Iho 
hiws thiit Hruset to govern them ; — **The mnssest (in Spain j ntimulKtetl and eondticte<S 
by thr jnie^tiy the mOfti diituirruus. of nit ^hmuffotjurx, have buttled with feroiity agnta^t 
all prog^reii* o\ oult|,djtenmt*nt — airaiost nil liberty— 4ign in st alt t lemenry/' Yet, aflef 
all, if ihu reUgioiia prepossessions of the peasantry tu IruUmd ar« to C(>n«tituttt 
the new •* H»cendancy" — and while we se« and denouuco this commencing tyranny 
Cod lorbiJ that we sbonld ever deny them their junt rights a» bretliten nwA Chrij*- 
tiaiia ! — why are the same rebpious prepossessions of the pi'usnntry of Spniu to bo 
trampled on; — combated too by a system of wretched butihery and hidr^ticted 
hoi^tility that \im mude our g^lorious old England despicable through Karope!— 
If the will of the mob be nu infallible ^uide in Iri^h politictt* why has the same will 
repressed on the same sndject* lost all its prerogatives beyond the Pyrenees? The 
advocates of the unlimiteil sovereiirnty of the people, (in the democratic sense of that 
phrase) would fipd it ruther diOlcult to answer. 



183?0 Siimandi on the Constitutions of Free Natwns, 

stitulions and poUcy* The wiil of the 
people 15 expressed, it U true ; but thiit 
will is ctinstiinily retrograde, and the 
triumphs of the unquu lifted right <ji Ic- 
g-UUtion »re found m the ccmtinuaiice 
of judicial torture, the eagerness for 
Joreigu mercenary service, the jealous 



IdS 



LJpm 



proscription of the liherly of the press. 
80 much for democratic " freedotu in 
the Helvetian valleys/' 

Re^iulfted from this grouud, the 
cb»uitiioti8 of democracy assume an- 
other. Rcprcst'niaiipe government is 
now their idol ; the nation assembled 
through its accredited organs. We 
■dutiu with oar authort the excellencies 
of this invcatiou, but we adiitlt it upon 
grouiitls very di tie rent from liioiC 
which su^tuiu and ll-dllo^ it trj the tho> 
ruu^h-puced dciuocrat. If the merits 
of the representative system de|)ended 
U|>oii the identity of the n.ition with 
it^ rt?|>re*entulives,^ — iusoniucli thut the 
representatives -are to do exticily wlmt 
the imtion would have done cotdd it 
have 8ss4Mnbled, 'and thiit the inconve- 
nience of such an assembly is the only 
rtason for resorting to these in'^tru- 
\i — ii is obviotis thnt every single 
jection which we have adduced 
igttinst the reference of public qvies- 
tioiis to the universal vote, would be 
equally effective aguinst this delegated 
eoiivention. ** People can only de- 
legate what they possess ; and if the 
mamt% are ignorant and retrogradci 
they cnnnot tmnsmit to their ambassa- 
dors progressive knowledge tind pro- 
grei^ive purpose." If direct democracy 
be pernicious, indirect dernocnicy can 
be no better* Clenrly, theretore» re- 
presentative government is » slavish 
jind loisehievous illusion, il' it be only 
regarded as an ex]iedient for securing 
the national sovereignty to the majo- 
rity of vot<?s in the nation. If repre- 
sentatives are but as counters^ which, 
whoUy valueless and tnsignifieatit in 
theinsefve^ convey a certain conven- 
tioii:&) import which they are com mis- 
sioned to bear, and from which tb< y 
c^mat depart. — if they are btit ininla- 
tufc pictures <if the sentiment* of their 
district, prefenttr>g a faithful copy in 
raia^of the decisions of a county or a 
bofCMif^h, as a <;unvex mirn»r give» in a 
ftw inchr-s An nccur*ite reflexion of a 
landficape — and if this mere instrument 
lai iitiicG eoFn|>rise the transmission to 
lh<* nilimiLd assembly of all tlie bigotry, 
all the pawsion, and all the prejuilice of 
a whultr vicina^'t;' unimpaired and un- 
rhangcrtble» a ibors folly cxjctly c*>nn- 
tcrbalancing a ^»»sc manV wisdom,— 



we acquire all the cviU of the former 
system, the sorrenderof pr>wrr iiUo the 
hands of ignuTuuce, with only the ad- 
dition of an illusion of |rrelended deli- 
beration — 

" We are not to spcnk of Ihc rij^bt of 
every citizen — ofjevt'iy iiulivkiuwl to he 
reprtstrnted, but ol ihtj rig;hE of *fVf ry in- 
dividual to lit; writ gnvempd ; of h\» inle* 
rest thai ^oclfly makti in nil cnsas the 
best choice pos'sibk* . . . * » If it 
be absurd to say that a minority is fr<>a 
because it obey* only the luws that the 
majority bus enacteiJ ajyamsi it, it is not 
less u> to say tluit « nulion b free because 
it only ubeys the h\v& ttiat tho^ii" whom it 
has regidarly uWtftJ, have eniicledHgaiust 
it; it is tbe nnlure of hiws, it ia their 
cutifarmity with public ojniiiou, and not 
the ducyptions of rep resenta lion which 
ought to prov*^ thdt tln*y me truly tha 
ex|]reBsiou of the will of a irct people." 

The per]Tetnal sovereignty of ihc en- 
lightened nntiunal will is freedom ; and 
the system of representative govern- 
ment is admirable as far, and only as 
I'ar, as it tends to develope that virtu- 
ous intelligence, and to i^ceure it fmm 
oppressive interception. In this point 
of view it is an admirable institution j 
nor, if it be rightly managed and under- 
stood, is there any conceivuble uie- 
chanism by which those trto great 
means of developing the enlightened 
will of the nation can be better ob- 
tained — the production of the mass of 
public opinions, and the refinement of 
these opinions into |>roper decisions by 
diiscussion. In the constitution of such 
an assembly, the representation of iVj/e- 
reW^is of far more consei:)iience than llie 
represi ritation of Histiivts or Ittcfttitics. 
The representation of interests is the 
representation of opinions; and the re- 
preset* tali on of opinions is the first 
great ref|uisite for discussion. For as 
man is fornn^d, hi'^ opinions are neces- 
sarily modifieil by his self-love ; his ac- 
qnain lance with bis rights is enlarged, 
and his dcterminaiion to defend them 
hjrlilieil, by the alUpowerlul ^feeling 
that they are his otuR rights comniitte. 
to his oitm udvocaev. M. de Sismoiid^ 
states witli grt^at force the delVets of 
the Frcnjch system of election ; and 
contrasts its deceptive appearance of 
plenary reprciscntationwith the seeming 
inefpiidtty but really sujicrior univer- 
sality ol the EngHsh scheme. His 
views would prohiihly have applied 
with yet greater propriety anteceitenily 
to the vast t-haiiges produced by the 
Heform Bill. Wc are not incliricd to 
dispnle that the pryvisions of that mca- 



186 



Sismondi on t/ie CofistUulions of F/^eQ Nations. 



[Feb. 



sure For extend inir the privilegres of 
elticlioii iQ sL'Viral places not previotHly 
possc-sseil of them, were required by a 
just rtud lilieral policy ; buL assuredly, 
lire liiU wrt-^ ii?;elt' defended Uy ks parlia- 
iiinitHty su[)j>orten uponirrotJiids w hick 
displayed an utter niisctiiiceptioii of ttie 
true pt'iMdi.iniies ot otir constitution-— 
Kvents h.WG since ^huwn too forcibly 
to need any coinnientary^ that the 
intich abnscd rotten boroujfhs were 
re;i]ly a valuaye provlsiEm in our re- 
presrntaiive system ; and the peril 
which. Sit this hoirr, meniiees the House 
of Peers — a peril nhich could never 
have existed under the Old Sarum 
Coiistitution — sufficiently dLMoonstrates 
thai these rupresentalivea of the aris- 
t*jcratic interest were (to adopt a me- 
chiinieai metaphor) the bttffvT* that 
perpetually broke the violeiue of the 
tonidincr parts of the political luachiiie, 
Kn^bnd, wljich, like every very limited 
iMOMdiXiihyMjiuhsiaiUiaUtf^ republic (en- 
dowed with advantugea which a pro* 

I fested republic could never aitnin or 
preserve,) [lerpctualty wavers between 
the aristoeraiic and democratic genus 
t>f rejiublTc?, Its history, since the 
birth of iU iiiierty, consists ufthe con* 
diet of these elements ; and its | perfec- 
tion is to recoticilc them. The close 
boroughs^ without bcitig directly in- 
tended for the purpose, went far to- 
wards Bolving- this liifficnlty ; ^^ hether 
desig-n will ever afford any means of 

-doing so» equal to this creation of acci- 
may perhaps be the subject of 
, bnt can scarcely be tliat of ex- 

i.|>ectation. 

The hiBtory of the French elective 

, system is a striking' instance of the 

f Bhort-sightednesa of tlieorists in their 
caleidtitions of ijoriiical provisoes, — 
After the Revolution, it was deter- 
mined tit at the whole nntion should con- 
cur in the nomintition of repres enta- 
il vcs J uud pfimaiy iisicmhhes were 
appointed to nominate the ckeiors who 
\*ere to select the members of the le- 
B'islature« AIUt some lime, it ^as 
fouuil that this apparently satistactory 
icheme wholly taileif in' attaining its 
object. The people |>ereeived tliat 
their intJirect nominees neither knew 
them nor were known by them, and 
Ibflt their "sovereignty' over puUlie 
liirs, was reduced to nothing. Of 
tbis sovereij^iity each individual wiis 
entitled to sijr-unUioiiilis ; he soon found 
that even this fraction of control was 
substantially lost. After the restora- 
tion, the syslem of direct election was 
adopted; ajid in order to ^ivc such 



value to the suffrage as would make it 
of some importance to m possessor, the 
qualification was filed at SdO francs of 
taxes. This arrangement, w hieh seemed 
calculated to produce general ucquicA- 
cence, haa^ however, fared so ill, that 
an abatement of the qoalitication to 
2IJ0 francs was universally demaniled 
at the revolution of the ** Three Glo- 
rious Days" and a still greater exten- 
eiou of sutffage is now the object otthe 
popular clamour in France as VFeli ms 
among ouraeive^; an extension of 
which it is dllfietdt to speak with deci- 
sion I for while some consider it Citlcu- 
lated to produce a stiti more complete 
obstruction of the int^up-nce of the rea- 
soning minority of the comin unity, 
others ctnisider it peremptorily de- 
manded by the democratic distribution 
of propeuy in France, The only 
maxim in the theory of election that 
seems to iis to afford a rock of support 
amidst all these varying tides ot opi^ 
nion» is the principle that interests and 
opinions are the real siii^ects <tf repre- 
sentation, not numliCTS and places ; aitd 
that the latter really obtain a reprc- 
scntntinn oidy in virtue of the former. 
Numbt_'rs will of course come into con- 
siderntion under this Citlculation of in- 
terests ; for every mun is concenicd 
in hi^ oitm interest ami the interest of 
the class to which be belongs ; but 
numbers will not be the only subjects 
of representatioi*, imisniuch as it may 
happen tliat a body not uumericatly 
equivalent to a fiflhof any body in the 
stale may possess interests of five 
times as great political importance aa 
any other class whatever. We have 
mentioned interest i and c^iniom. By 
the adequate representation of the 
former, all parties ar^^; secured against 
neglect or oppn^saion ; by that of the 
latter, provision is made for the per- 
petual progress, political and niorui, of 
the country ; if both could be secured, 
(and, as we before observed, the repre- 
sentation of interests wilt always be 
nearly equivalent to that of ofiinious,) 
the scheme of a Representative Assem- 
bly would be perfect. 

M. do Sismondi explains at great 
length the principles which should re- 
gulate tlie association of the Demo- 
cratic Elem* lit in the legislative, exe- 
cutive, and judicial powers; a partici- 
pation which, he contends, is indispen- 
sably necessary, in order to secure the 
mass of the popidation from actual 
oppression, from mental debasement, 
and even from the liability to sevohi- 
tiooary excitulioti which the absence 



I 



1837.] . SUmondi on the ComtUuiiom of Free Notions, 



187 



of all popular interest in the nalional 
iftstitdtions presents as materi.il fur t!ie 
ambition of the demagxj^^ue to opcrutc 
i>n. With regard lo legislative anj 
executive p<»wltjs, he woylJ resort la 
the instrument iility of the communes 
anti munici|m1ities^ catttiiiuully con- 
neeted with (he central power of the 
state ; and for tlic excrcijse of jutlicial 
]>rivilcges, to such institutions ag our 
invattiahlc trial by jury, on which he 
parses an encomium warm enough to 
Slit is fy the most rf so lute admirer of 
this jewel of the Briiis^h Coiialitutinn. 
In the Esijay immediately Fiicceeding 
the one to which we have juf<t l>rea 
Teferritifjr, M, de Sismondi proceeds lo 
the ronsideration of n prilih'in, not 
Jess ttbstrtise thun any of the former, 
and indeed closely connected with 
tliem alL — namely^ the means by v\ hich 
the Nalioijal Reason may be snmuion- 
ed to the Natioiud Sovereignty. Tliis 
we have before noticed as forming- the 
great end of leiiishitive policy. The 
N»liaiial Reafton is to the state what 
the presiding principle of Wijidom 
and IntHli^cnee i* to the indi\iduiil ; 
and, us the latter retpjires to he piiri- 
lied and cxnlirrl by Ions: an<l careful 
€uatem(d:itiim, abuve the conflicts of 
pa^ion auti intereal — so most the for- 
mer, to dpservc us character and title, 
be tlio tflaborated product of universal 
di«K?ussi<>n; and thus, by the gradual, 
bat certain supremacy of truth over 
error, finccce<l in eliminating- from its 
pure and perfect essence every intru- 
sive tincture of prejudice and precipi- 
tation : — 



**\ih only after llie 
lie opinion have been 
disBcusiouA have been 
it« flashes liave Uein 
itingle Ujfbt, vivid, calm, 
the Nations*! Reason 
that its sentence ou^dtt 



lemiiests of pub- 
calmed, after its 
conrilialed, aftur 
con flensed into a 
, and equ abler that 
pronounces, and 
to be law." • 



The i^reat introductory consideration, 
therefore, is the formation and develop- 
ment of this putfltc opiniojif of which the 
Na I tonal Reason is the last and most 
perfect refinement. I u all free stales this 
process is effected by the spontanams 
discussions of all who are iule rested 
in public affairs by the earnest inter- 
course of private circles, the animalion 
of public luecling-s, — by the juuruah 



and pamphlets of the dar, — by all that 
diversified maehinery of political ex- 
eitcuicut, which our age and country 
assuredly do not require to hear more 
copiously described. It has the ad- 
vanta^'C, slivs M* de Siemondi, of at 
once ajipciirinff to be the work of ail 
society, Huilj nevertheless, being only 
the expre.-ision of its most intelligent 
portion. Discussions of this kind 
precede and enli>(hten the more regu- 
lar fijjichd debates of fMjIitical ques- 
tii^ns ; while, on the otlicr lunid, the 
theoretical reprcseiitatlous of speeu- 
iutists are tried and corrected by the 
mure experimental spirit of the Cham- 
ber or the House, — the conjectures of 
a JMonttsqiiteu by th^ expirrience of a 
iK'pitie du pfitpicf luul tlie pbiloso- 
phieal ealctilations of a Hume by the 
arithmetical ones of bis modern par- 
i i a m e 1 1 tii ry n amesak e* 

In arrangiuir the representative sys* 
tcuj the f^rcal point to be attained h 
obviously — that the deputy nmy be at 
onre thonuiijhly inq>reE:iii*ted with the 
\v;ints and the uisbes id' his constitU' 
rn!s, and at the t^ame time siutHcienlly 
inilt'pendcnt of their control to bring 
to the a??!;erably of tlic nation, not the 
unalterable vote of a pledged partizan, 
but the dinrnified candour of a delibe- 
rative councillor. To the entire sya- 
lem of pled*;es, antecedent to elec- 
tion, we confess ourselves str*tngly op- 
poscfbf We are opposed to it, not so 
much on account of its direct practical 
results, as on account of its mcoasis- 
tency with the true spirit of our con- 
stitution, and con9et|uently, its indiicct 
and ultimate tendency to alter the 
whole uature of our pnijtieal system. 
It is true that the preit queslitms upon 
which these picdg-cs art? exacted are 
usually BO vigorously agitated outside 
the Wdlls of parliament, and previously 
to its meeting, that little can be ex- 
pected from subaequeni parliamentary 
debate, of a nature sn forcible as to 
alter o[ unions formed I'lom this wide 
vxlra-mural discussion. It is true, that 
we are not so chimerical as to expect 
that any eloquence of any speaker 
could profelytize (for instance) Mr* 
O'Connell lo the causae of Rritisli cou- 
nciion, or reconcile Lord John Rii3?ell 
to the existence of the Irish cburclu 
Such conversions arc beyond the ora- 



* ** Etuilcs. • He p. 13a 
f Aussi est il abfturde dc Jonner des cahiers impenitifs aux deputes: c'est supjio?<3r 
<jut' la decision precede la delibemtion, quu ks partit'si'ii savent plus tjuo W tout; (|ne- 
chaque interet ae veut rien c^icr, et que toute cuncibation est impo8*»ible — Etudes, 
&c. p. 136. 



im 



Sismondi on the ConsfttuHom of Free NaUtmi* 



[Feb. 



lory of a Cicero,— pefliaps beyond 
ilmtof a Melbourne* It is not, ihere- 
fore» in Ihi* expectation o\ such jyossi- 
bilitieB as these, that, we abjure Ihe 
letters of the pledge. But it is be- 
[ cause such a practice habituates the 
people to a falan view of the nature of 
the Hou&e of Conimuns, by famibar- 
izing- them to fc^rd it as a purely de- 
mocratic Cfmventioji, assembling' h<*' 
tause it is not convefdent for the prop/e 
\ ihemMt'hcs to assemhlr^ and presenting 
* the verdict of the inyltityde us amhas- 
I Sndor^ whose powers are liuiited to 
J anooiiiK'iiiL'- decisions already detini* 
tivuly concbi<lcd. The uildtrst thco- 
1 Jries of republickinism never conteiu- 
I filaied anything so monstrous as this* 
I so adverse to national advanccment.and 
by destroying all the real advaiitagei 
of a rcpreaeiitati^c assembly^ so cakui- 
liited to crush, under the torrent of 
Yidgar pn^'udice, every development 
tjf public wisdom, A dignilieil posi- 
1 4ion» truly, for the nalional deputies f 
l*nve*tt;d with "a power of attorney/' 
by a constituency, the blind proxies of 
\Wi\ eleetaml majority, u sort of parlia- 
[ mentury automata, tli:lVring little from 
[that obedient "Speaking JVIacliine** 
'which, as we remember, the ingenuity 
I of an accomplished professor prescnt- 
1^1. not long since, to the coriusity of 
L Dublin audience; — yet, assuredly, this 
F the idea I contemplated by the advo- 
[eatcs of the pledge. For our put, 
1 when we accept the office of senatorial 
I machine, we are resolved at least to 
J make one coodition,^ — that we receive 
Mome hire fijr our vicarious labour,- as 
I Certainly, if wc are bnt to think and 
[•peak as weare bid, it would be sadly 
I tin reason able that the Liir.Ai. atlvocate 
•hoolfl be paid for vinriicatiug the fol- 
lies of a client, an<l the parli.^mentary 
one be unrewarded i«>r vindicating the 
absurdities of a district. In both in- 
stances there is the simple transmission 
of n case previously setthid ; and in 
both alike, or in nt.ithert there ought 
to be a remnneratinn for the veiy 
troublcsotne, and often very inglorionSj 
task of staling and enforcing it. 

It is oljvions that iht re are two 
Wiiys of consitleiing the English HotiBe 
t>r Comm'»ns ; — as an assembly of 
councillors, dc[>utcd to consider lor the 
public weal, — or as an assendjly of 
agents, deputed to signify the will of 
the majority in their lespective con- 
si ituencip*. The latter sopposilion is 
refuted by the vvbold spirit atid nature 
of its proceedings ,■ the very formulp, 
of convocation is sufficient to prove 



that they are meant to be, not tl le- 
gated verdicts^ but deliberative discits- 
sions. From this theory of the House 
of Commons it will follow that, the 
deliberative character being essential 
to membership, whatever destroys that 
character may be said virtually to dei- 
troy the membership itself, and there- 
fore waxf be conMidcred o$ diwinithmg 
ike numher of memhcn ct>mprekendtd 
in the Ilonge by every instance m 
which it occurs. Tliat is to say — the 
syslem of pledged votes terminates — 
not merely in contradicting the spirit 
of the English polity, but in directly 
violating its letter. It is not merely 
unconstitutional it is illegal. 

As this subject is one of great pre- 
sent interest, and one continuaUy in- 
volved in perple?;ity by the shallow 
casuistry of our democratic statists, it 
may be well to advance a step furthet 
in its consideration. No question is 
olftener proposed^ than the course of 
condoct be lit ting a re])resentative wbo 
discovers that ins conscientious vote 
must dirt'er from the opinions of the 
cnnsiituency (that is, of that m*jority 
of the constituency) wbich has rtfturn- 
ed him. Instant resignation, is the 
cry of the republican politician ; the 
moment that tlie representative cease* 
to be the exponent of his constituent 
majority, his right to represent it ceases. 
If he vote in its favtnir he is a hypo- 
crite i If he vote against it he is an 
apostate : let him cease then to vole! 
Uiterly erroneous ! reply the opposite 

fmrty: the constituency has made its 
larguin, and must abide by it It has 
undertaken tlie changes and clmncps 
of political life, and ii must be pre- 
pared to meet them. Such convci^ 
sTons can happen but seldom ; but 
when they do, they are necessarily 
irremediable, until the dissolution of 
parliament has restored the power of 
choice and of rejection. 

The truth is not fully declared by 
either party ; but it certainly is aji- 
proached more near!? by the latter of 
the two. The firH fimy of a membcri 
ctimf^ared to which all others are sub- 
ordinate, — is to ronsult and vote fur the 
public good. If he vote at all, tberc 
(mght to he no question that this con- 
sideration ought to take precedence of 
the wishes, expressed or implied, of 
any constituency, — or of the world. 
The arguments of a conelituency may 
inline me a decision ; their wishes ne- 
ver. But under the supposed cuse 
of a discrepancy, ou^M he to vote of 
aUf To tfcis we reply by a sitnide 



1857.] 



Sistnondi on the ComtittUions of Free Nations. 



189 



I distinction. If he be expressly aad 
I verlially pledged to resign, his course 
j is obvious \ he was ioileed grossly eiiU 
j pubic ill admitting an uiicofistkuiioTidl 
I oblig-alion, but oriee siihiectfd to it, he 
oaoDOt escape its cuiitroi without vio- 
lating every priueijde that reguUt<;s 
thu intercourse of luen. But il" he be 
not expresily and verbid ly phidfied to 
I reiign; if he have only declared to the 
electoral body that his opinions (at the 
j tixnc of declaration) were of a certaiu 
j CAEte, niul have leit to them to con- 
eluilfi for themselves aa to his stability, 
I lie ii^ iiot only not bound to resigu, but 
^^j{Du1d err in resigning'. In voLiug: ue- 
^^Brdin^ to hi$ convictions, he has ful- 
^^Bed his iluty, and hU whde dttft/. If 
afty other covenant were uuderstood* 
it uraa iUe^uUy and unconstitutiorially 
tinder^tood. To this view there is one 
[ apparent objection* WUvt it may be 
asked* decUre opinions at all ou the 
bikstingfi: atid why labour with such 
tuergy to deuionstmte their accortiance 
with those of the constituency, if the 
candidate be not sub^tunlially pledging 
himself to repraent them in the most 
literal sense <^f rt^preseiitatiou ? The 
answer is simple. Opinions are de- 
cUred, not that the coristitucmcy may 
select an agent to traoi^iint their irre< 
vocable decisions, but that they may 
aelect a wise and competent public 
ooancillor. Now, as every elector's 
individual opinions must be the uki- 
mate standard to which he refers in 
order to dett^rmine ihe wisdom of 
others, he will (dislurbirig influences 

3)art) select the candidate who most 
osely expresses them ; and thus the 
number will ultimately ** represent"' the 
wishes of the constituency, just as if 
the constituency (which it does not) 
recognized his election for the sole 
purpose of rep reisen ting them. The 
deeUratton of opinions is not to es- 
tablish his ability to " rep rest nt,'* but 
to establish his character as a legis* 
lator; and the luttor will necessarily 
rise in the opinion of the cMnstiluency, 
in proportion as it approximates to the 
former. From this generul coinci- 
ileace arises, on the one hand, the vul- 



gar confusion of the two ; and cm the 
olher, the necessity of showing their 
relative priority in rank, whenever, as 
in the case above cited, they appear 
to coufiict. We rej»eat that, according 
to all just ^iews of the nature of the 
House of Commons we are warraitted 
to say — not that the candidate is bound 
to vote in any given way, became a 
certain constiiuenc^ have elected him, — 
but that a certain constitueney have 
elected him became he itms likelif so to 
vttie. We must, however, relinqniiih a 
subject wliich its gr<at approaching im- 
porliince eould alone have induced us 
to proluugr to thli extent. 

And with this topic we mtist, for the 
present relinquish M. de Sismondi's 
volume. We may return to it again ; 
for our space has not allowed us to 
present lu these remarks anything ap- 
proaching to a. cojiiinuotis Hccount of 
its entire contents* If we should be 
prevented from doing so, we shall have 
at least oBered our attestation to the 
variety and the wisdom of one of the 
few political dissertations of our times 
which a philosopher may peruse with, 
approbation, and a philanthropist witli 
pleasure* " La polititjue est une sci- 
ence (pie je CTois avoir achcvee," was 
the cool boast of the Abbe Sieyes ; 
M. de SismoTidi will scarcely echo the 
preaumpluous vaunt of the sophist of 
the revolution. He has too much 
knowledge not to know its hounds ; 
but he may console himself with the 
reflection that, if he has not attained 
to the imaginary omniscience of the 
French politician, he has proved no 
slight contributor to the progress of 
that real and attainable knowledge, 
which, we may hope, will at length 
pervade the whole of society, and, by 
bestowint^ on all chtAses a distinct per- 
ception of the true aims and ends of 
political instituiions — what they can 
do, and what they Ciin never hope to 
do, — aid in setting the public welfare 
beyond the interested efforts either of 
a^^'it^tion to endanger in its boisterous 
tempest, or of corruption to im[iair In 
its sluggish and deceitful calm. 



190 



The True Thaahgij of Nature. 



[Feb. 



TUE TllLE THEOLOGY OF NATI7&B. 



Of sp J ritual Itiiowletlge there are two 
great bTanches* whii-h, thoui^h seeni- 
ing-ly R-niote in character, are yet by a 
most beautiful series of common prin- 
cijjles and prolbiuid coineideiices to be 
inteed to the same origin, and lo letid 
to th€ same concbisiuns* OF these, 
the firal in order of iittit; bnt not of 
design, is (hat evidence of ti creative 
intelligence, to be derived froai a sri- 
entilic o!iservatior» of nature. The 
second, the revelation which God h^is 
actually made of his own design and 
law— thus supplying: that more impor- 
tant and practical knowledg-e, not other- 
wise even to be remotely conjectured. 
This, tliou^Hi last in order, will, upon 
Tcflection» appear the indispcnsible 
[preparation for the formtT. It is now, 
[we bcli<ive» generally felt thitt meta- 
Iphysical speculation^fj comniencinfr with 
Mll-<lefined lutsunjptinn*, |»n>eeediriir on 
ipremiise^ merely verlud, and ending in 
Ithe most rcinoie and iiiconi|irt'hen'jtbIe 
[inferences, are n^ little to be depentled 
[upon in theology as they have been 
[found in all other subji^cts of human 
r enquiry t and as such reasoaiugs liavc 
[hitherto tailed to add to imrknt>wledire 
lof things which are withici our corn- 
ij^uss ot observation, so they are still 
I less likely to l»e very profit able when 
I applied to the nature and attributes of 
L God. To be pcnsible of tliis tlie re- 
flecting reader has only to recollect the 
CoiiFused chaos of religions and iheo- 
[logies, which liave been tiie result of 
[human spi-culaiiun in every age and 
I nation, nnlil we reach ihe eoidinrs of 
wrohability in the [luge of Scripture, 
fin laying as^ide the anjazing subtleties 
[ijl' the aiu'ient philosophy, or of the 
[ metaphysical Chrl»itian divines of the 
[oiori sebttol, the Christian student 
l%ill ever a|)proach the simphr and 
[clearer lijjht of that Word which has 
linade foolish the wii^idom of this world, 
[ii'ith tlio feeling of one wiio has been 
* through outer and thmugh niitldle 
rdarkness l)orne," wljcn he 1in?t iraimi a 
[prospect of the '* Holy lijL;ht — purest of 
things first-born — of the clernal, co- 
eternal beam/ 

It is not until the desiL'^n and morn! 
attributes ol" God are knov\n Irom hi:* 
word, that ihey can be traced with 
reasonable etttainty in the world 
which he has created lor jmrpuscs 
^ which do not appear distjncily trace- 



able on the surface. To huixmn 
eyes but a little poition is &ecn» of a 
plan which is based upon iittinity and 
built for eternity. A depth too un» 
fathomable for the sounding line of 
human reasonings, cxpaudis mote 
broadly before us as wc look with more 
infentness upojj it, with the purpose of 
tracing analogies between the known 
and unknown realms of truth or dis- 
covering tinal juirposes within our 
shallow compass and deplh. 

But let the pnrposi* he known ; let 
the scheme of God's dealings be lutd 
before us ; and although our reasoninj^t 
must still be confined to one aspect of 
our Creator ; yet there immediately 
may be looked for. a correspondent 
system of indications* by which one 
separate part of the same general de- 
sign may be fi>und connected iu prin* 
ci[de with the other. And farther, 
there may also be found those corres- 
pondencies of plan which two dis- 
tinct works of the same author may be 
exjiected to exhibits 

Furnished with these princtples of 
observation^ the true analogies of Na- 
tural Thfology commence with the 
sacred philosophy of the Christian 
mind, which atone converses with a 
divine being* not purely imaginary; 
neither the phantasm wl/ich poetry con- 
jures u]j from human eonce[>tions, nor 
the verbal abi^tracUon of uicuLu meta- 
physics, but the creator of all worlds, 
w*ho» having made man responsible, has 
given him bws of action — and having 
made him tor a ])urpose, which im- 
plied some knowledge of his uuiker, has 
imparted that km iw ledge on authority 
of the most unequivocal and unquctH 
tionahlo kind, Such is the first str-p, 
and not as it ts sometimes fancied, the 
conclusion to be looked tor in the study 
of natural theology. 

This key to the true comprcbeositm 
of thcnainrtd world being obtained, the 
actual methods of the creative mind 
in one clear instance being placed iu 
our posseii-ion, a deep and varied region 
of analog ica starts to the thoughtful 
from every scene of animate and in- 
animate nature. That there nmv be 
disi-overed many features of such an 
analogy l>etweeu the revealed word — • 
its uh>ral plan, the scheme of redemfv 
tion, on one hand : and the {systems 
which aie to be traced in the scKial 



I 

I 

I 

i 



I1i37.] 



Th^ Ti^ie Tlwologtf of Nature. 



lyi 



and natural world , is \4hat might be 
amicjpttted, uii the pruici(ile that they 
are not only designs of the Sitnie au- 
thori but thai ihcj iil»a bear reI«ition 
to the same cuumion end ; and it is 
onlv when thus viewed that the works 
of the visible ereution aiibrd not only 
(iis ia Bishop Butler's profound argu- 
ment) ttrong- corroboratiuos, but us wc 
shall prescutly endeavour to she w^ beau* 
tiful itlustratinus and impressive mani- 
ft-^tations of the power, the glory, and 
love of God, not mtUf as the creator of 
heaven and earth, but as our oviu 
parent and friend who h;i5 taught us by 
his word. 

If with this view we look upon the 
outline of tbis great system of mvdlu* 
gies, omittijig all subtle links, and all 
topics which niig^ht demand moru at- 
tention than ordinary readers aire to 
jiflbrd, we inay enumerate the siuiilar 
cburacters of adaptation to our wants 
and e^pacities, the similar murks of thut 
pervading compensation by which guod 
IS developed fiom evil — the same per- 
manence of principle, and capacity of 
coufurming to vuried circnmstunces, 
not to be discerned in huiiaun con- 
trivances — tlie Siiiiie adaptation to a 
transient state — ^the same practical 
simplicity and speculative difficulty —= 
tJie same internal puwer to work on 
the better and jmrer feelings, and im- 
preis devotional sentiment. On these 
topics we shaU avoid detaih Sume of 
them are well illustrated, by Whevvell, 
Buckland, and the other author:* of 
Uie Bndgcwater Treatises ; and some 
involve lengthened disquisition, which 
is not our purpose. 

Ftir this reason we cannot dwell as 
fully as we would desire on that singu- 
lar provision by which the history of 
redempiinn and the institutions td re- 
vealed reli;jion commencing in the 
garden of Edcn» hus preserved its con- 
tinuity. And still changing its txlernal 
Ibrms with the developments i>f the so- 
cial progress through m many extreme 
changes and revidutious, developed 
from itself provisions and changes 
suitable to all ; without losing, through 
all, a single feature of it4* identity. — 
Thi«i, could we fully w in detad so brond 
and dee}> a view, might be pdrallelcd in 
the chzingeful rcvulutions,by which the 
feature? and produciions of physical na- 
tare, can be traced into adaptations tu 
th« progress of srxiial change ; the 
domestic bird and beast^the garden 
and agricultural production—the metal 



and coal formations* In both branches 
of the comparison— wonderfully exhi- 
biting principles of fitabillty and provi- 
sional ada[ttation, and contracting with 
the works uf human skill, the obsolete 
Lws and institutions — the empires sur- 
viving in a name — the uurecording 
monuments — ^the knowledge confuted 
by time — the dead language — the spe- 
culation abuitdoued and forgotten — 
things which contemplated with a nar- 
row view, have ever Imparted a pre- 
vailing sceptical sense to the bistorieul 
inquirer. Wliile the Christian plulosn- 
pher alone, looking on the whule but as 
the manifestation of the one great plun, 
alike traceable in all its parts 1 the 
moral, social, spiritual, iinu physical, 
may apply the reflection of Ciceru, in 
a more compreliensive sense — 0/ji- 
nionum comment a iUitft dies^ naturae con- 
firmaL Such is ihe eh anicteric tic attri- 
bute of the divine architeet, however 
traced, whether in the world that he 
has made, or the w^ord that he has 
spoken. 

In the same manner, wc might ae- 
Icet numerous instances to shew, thiit 
while in both the natural and revealed 
systems, the e<»mmon uses and ai>pliea- 
tions are of the most practical kind, 
and accommodated to our most urgeut 
wants lind simplest perceptions, there 
are heights and depths of eontrivauce 
and design, wliich bafHc and perpb^x 
the deepest research, lo each, tliere 
is manifuaily a system perfect in itself, 
yet as ubviously forming a portion of 
a iurther system. For this purpose we 
might detail tno sorifi/ piu visions uf 
Christianity, which lotm the broad 
fuundation of the civi!iiit:d world; and 
in like mimner the nalurul ai!npt;itioiiA 
of our mundane sy&ttm lo the same 
great emU ; while in btttli wa are led 
by the course uf uur tjjtcpiiry to the out- 
wurks of the infinite and eternal, to tiie 
mysterious, inscrutable, und boundless 
empire of the universal mind. So that 
while we are taught and fed — guide<I, 
governed, and maintiined, we arc pre- 
sented iVoni afar with perceptions caU 
cuLited to raise our wonder and admi- 
ration, and repress our presumjition : 
whether we search with the speculi- 
tive astronomer among the nebnlie 
whicli f^de from our lyes inlo the 
depths of the illimitable void — or scru- 
tiuize with the during lugie of the theo- 
logian, ihuse brief and ubseure intima- 
tions of the counsels and purposi s of 
the Omniscient, which socm to ex- 



192 



The TruB Th^logy of Nature. 



[Feb. 



hil)it a remotely awFul outline of an* 
lather world itpan tb« shores of a dread 
fiii'rcaftpr. 

It would be still easier to enter upon 
[im amilogy for tiic physical portion of 
f whiirb so Tiutc:h Hit^^restmg materidl haa 
[been receinly compiled ; in Lt(« exain- 
||»1l'S vrliieli niitiht be brou^lit toi^eth«r 
[iri extiibit that |muciple of eotnpen- 
ijalion wtik'h pervades tbe ntiiurul 
lnporlJ, In this, as in the schetntf of 
I ftiif inptioii — muck of real, and^iinjch 
I of at least ii|>|iarerit evil is «o mndi- 
iied or cmiiiterbulanceriv us to produce 
greatiij- sum of good, not iilherwjjie 
I to be obtohied, by litiy fc&])|iaretit 
[ »if imR I n the oiio, for iustance, the n o- 
[tion of Li reppou^ible agent etiprtbl« of 
|%irtue and of le^l ob^jervance, implies 
I freedom and the power to err. Yet 
.from this nccessanf imperfeclion — ^tbe 
\ want of wiiich would iiiii^ly tntber a luEts 
[perfect creation or a mahifest contra- 
[dieliou in terms, arisus a bi^autibil sys- 
[lem of moral provisionfi, the residt of 
ivbich i^ a hiijhcr order of virioos — 
[fortitude, patience, humility* self-con- 
qnci^t, elinrity, tliat *' lifarcth all 
I tilings, believetb all ibings, hopeth r11 
Llliiu(rs, endureth all ihinjLr^ ;" the sul)- 
liline heroism of adversity, and the 
i^oduring walk of Itiith : — virtui's and 
f graces confirmed, and approved by 
[iiscipline and trial, by which imperfec- 
tion iij made the means of a hiijlicr ])er- 
fection in the ^mA, So when the e_ve 
of ihe historian and the naluralist turns 
on the ftrojrress of human tliitig-s as af- 
fected by the phy-jical cr re inn stances of 
the world — ^a combination of principles 
wonderfully siiiiilttr, appeurs with ihe 
I utmost clearness. The hardaihips uris- 
ling from cliinutc and soil — frum the 
fetemtMital convnbion, and vurious inci- 
dental di>rnrbances of earth* sea* and 
•ky, gi vc rise to t hose prt'ciselyanalogons 
[ changes which nrtre on the [)rog:rcss of 
[the social world ; and are main In- 
•trmnents for the devolopinent of the 
J wonderful resources of the human in- 
liellect, which without them would have 
yio earthly object or end. These pro- 
!8, of which an ascend ing* proi^ress 
^ the scale of moral anil social being 
«eitis to bo the beautiful result, 
Awhile they necessarily involve the 
r notion of imperfeciionf will thns ap* 
I pear cciually essential to the sufiposi- 
tion of the most perfect convciTablc 
state of things* — that which includes 
pTOf^re^sion and moral advancement. 
Without this the highest notion that 



can be legilim«ttely atlamed» by humufi 
reason, is a moral sta^alnm — a repoM* 
nearly tantamount to the id^m of non- 
existence ; and H hieh, not beini;' con- 
formable to any actual mnM tuition of 
mind within (he possibility of hurimn 
comprehension, we have no ri^ht tr* 
aBRrin as the condition of a perfect 
stale. 

And here — ^as in many other instances, 
which were we not pledgc*l to a pecu- 
liar view of the subject, we nii^ht no- 
tice — of these great branches of divine 
study, one throws a clear H^ht upon 
the difBculties of the other. If amon^ 
the many heaulibd provisions of divine 
wisdom for the development of order 
from dtsturbance, and s]ii ritual good 
from moral evil, the natural philoso* 
pher can iietect among- the operations 
of nature, sig-ns of disorder for which 
no compensation can be discovered to 
exist ; and if the moralist can detect 
a sum of evil unbalanced by any re- 
sulting' prevalence of moral good. — 
Here^ lot), tlte oracle of divine truth, 
interposes with its correspomJing light, 
aud solves the doulits of the Grotto- 
mer and the ^'^eologist, by affirming the 
very coneluision to which they would 
cimduct, to be also a [»ortion of the 
pl:m. For whetlicr the slow but sure 
operation of a rcsi^tin^ medium — or 
th(^ igneous and aqueous elements 
of the geologist arc to be the iustru- 
mi^nts ; it predicts a coming day when 
this transitory scene — the stage of 
unirc transient things-^is to pa^s awuy 

and leave a void in the heavens. 

In like manner, moral evil, imper- 
fectly counteracted here, — is in the re- 
vealed jmrpose of the great Creator, 
but thti bejjinning of an etermi) and 
the portion of air intinitc ^y^i^m^ 
wherrin all that is ditlk'ult shall be 
cleared, and all imperfection done 
away* 

A beautiful result of this profound 
and extensive analogy wouht be, the 
probable inferences which our know- 
ledge of the natural world may, on att 
attentive consideration supply, as to 
the more remote, or the invisible por- 
tions of that spiritual system, of wnieh 
90 little is before us distinctly. For 
example : while within the narrow 
sphere of our scTisations, great disor- 
ders, and irregularities, and evils hard 
to be accounted for, — sterile regions, 
inclement cho nges, human sufferings 
and crime, and the like, surround our 
steps, aud meet our eyes wherever we 



I 



I 



te^ 



1837.] 



The True Thealagy of Nature. 



19S 



turn them. When we take a wider view, 
t)iC9€ small disturbaricf« are 1o$i in the 
immensity of n lar^jrer sphprr, wherein 
all U beautiftilly regular, hnght, and 
enduring. Tht? desert crjiitracts into a 
i}^ck — the iprnpest ^ub$ide« into a 
whis)»er — Inuatin sufft riiijr into an iii- 
fiuiiisuial unli'diiic of the gmve. 
Pliim/t whirls beyond plamn — snn hu- 
y«nd suu ^ivts li^ht to uiisifcn worlds; 
lystem beyond aystem, stteLch upward 
atid downward, and ever) way into ihe 
ilbiiiitaijle depths of space, — liLo the 
kmgdotiis and stales of the eoijjirc of 
the Universal Spirit, throii|red with 
life, and bound tojfetht^r by llie chain 
of the snpnime law of rternity^ If 
from this va«t view we follow up the 
analogy, and, conteniplaUn^ ihf; small 
nf>rt)on of the sciieme of God^ winch 
oe ha« found desirabllf! to reveal to U9 
by bin word, a new and beautiful p»*r- 
fpective into elernUy npHn*! before the 
Christ tairf; imnd. For, a« he knows in 
part the awful importnnre of his owi* 
being. — and as, independent uS this 
knowletlg-p^ he mi^ht conjeettire the 
superior importance of mind to mat- 
ter, — it i« to be inferred that he ** who 
nade all worlds,** and who died for 
iicui, has n<it destined him, with all his 
fast Cdpabilittcs of knowledge and 
Jove, to occupy a mean or obscure 
part in his eternal empire : that, as 
the starry world transcends this little 
seene. ho shall his future extaience 
transcend the fleeting' present^ — as the 
partiJ evil i» last in the universal 
(loodf !io shall the sufferings of thiii 
present life be forifutten iu the glo- 
rious hjpfiioet^s hereafter* 

IncautiouR minds are apt to convert 
remote aniloji'te^ into proofs, and to 
found the most awfidly important con- 
Cbtfinns on the a^stiiuptioos of ihe tma- 
gin at inn. Bur, to perceive these luudo- 
|iics ii the work of trained rethefi'ii — 
they Hfv ttie dogmatic theolog-y of the 
irrmt 5iy«tefo-They demand the use of the 
rea«ohintr fueolty and the imagination* 
Slid are not correctly perceptihle bttt 
to the mind educated to the [tercep- 
lion of svsterautic order. As, in the 
right unJiTstanding' of the Ser pture, 
tic^htttj^ tft rightly to be explained but 
from an allowance for the whcde; sti in 
the perus.il of the great extern d vo- 
lume of hat lire, the uniustrncted eye 
Mtlj III* nmre likely to he struck by tne 
partial irregnlarities.andbj^traii^^irnt and 
lucJ evils, than bv the wonderful unity 
and coinoTebensi\e burmunionsai sa of 
the whole. Yti, us there is in the 
tiTMM^ts and Icadtiii: doctrines of rc- 
Xuu IX 



vealcil reli^^lon. ample provision for its 
pur|jo5e — the instruction and conver- 
^\<m of the simple ; and, as it can be 
shewn that, in the pnictical portitin of 
both its doctrinal prim iple, ami of its 
mnnl curie, there is eoiitaini^d a nalu- 
mi iendenctf to alter and renew the 
corrupt heart. So it nitiy, on a little 
ri flection, uppear thut there is ii simi- 
lar temleiicy in the phenf>nieua of the 
Datnral world to ojjerate str^ingly and 
beneficially on everj" mind that ii 
awake to such impTr^ions, 

In passing to the notice of these, we 
should preoiise, tliat a large portion of 
mankind uppear inFeii^ible to either 
the influences of religion or those of 
external nature ; but, on it more etaet 
view it may be, in lioth ca^es, attribu- 
table to causes of the same class, — the 
mind eni;rufised by worldly objects, 
and wholly under the dominion of sor- 
did and lowering passions, TheTe. 
is also, iu all a capacity of bein^ 
awnkened to a momentary sense of 
nyiture or of divine troth. 

Most peojfle are more or less nwake 
to the influences of uatiirtil scenery. 
Tins susceptibility is tlie foumlatiou *if 
the landscape-painter's art, and the bet* 
ter part of the poet's ■ it is the study 
or the taste of the inlellectiial and re- 
fined J and almost every one prolessrs 
io be snib;ect to it in some degree. Nor 
can we consistently with onr philoso- 
phy, fiiippo-e that the hi^h-souled 
touchrs oi feeling and fancy which are 
at the bottom of all this, were designed 
to be wa!?te f*nd sterile dispositions of 
our nature. We Ciinn^it believe that 
the rapturous elevation of heart — that 
the kindling inspiration— the vividly 
colored impression of sentiment, that 
the tone of feeling which varies, like 
the muny -coloured reflections of pris- 
matic light, with every chan^dng aspect 
of nature, — has no better design than 
to g-litter on the tourist's pa^e, or to 
evaporjte in poetical mediocrity. 

In troth, the mind that studies na- 
ture rightly, must jierctive in the claai 
ol impressions of which we are now 
spenkiiig, something still morf? closely 
ctitablisliitig the antilogy we have been 
dwelling upon. We liave often felt 
flomethiiig of an admonitory and pre- 
ceptive power in the aspect of a stri- 
king aod lonely scene, that is well 
worth tracing out. It i^ pariicularly 
to be recogniied in the temlency of 
those who arc most alive to the e Recti 
Ki'( scenery, to moraliie upon the ap- 
pearances iif nature, to find, '* tongueft 
in trees, books in the ruituiug brooks, 

o 



\^ 



The True Tkeolopy of Natttre. 



[F, 



sermons lo stones, and good in every 
thing/* The same spiritualixinfj ten- 
dency even appears in a eoiisiderable 
department uf langnage; hope and fear, 
care and pleasure, liave found a common 
idiom in the ciianges of scene and 
pky* But it is meanwhile to be observed 
that th«se beautiful and often affect- 
ing moral impressions which crowd 
thickly on the mind, as soon as 
it becomes touched bv the spirit of 
nature, are not in reality to be traced 
to any precise propriety of comparison, 
or any real signilicjinee in the appeiir- 
auce of tbe phenoraenu around ns. But 
a tone of feerm^ is awakeued, which 
compels the fancy into n train of 
emotions, moral and rcli'^ions in tttuir 
nature. The spirit becomes, by a 
latent but real provision, percipient of 
a purer intercourse ; the spiritual por- 
tion of human nature U tor a moment 
cxtrieatetl from the debasements of the 
world, and restored to the [jerceptlous 
of ita better nature. 

From this it will be apparent^ how 
admirably adapted are the inBucuces 
of natunil scenery to harmonize with 
those of the religion of the Gospel. 
And thus while the iustructiid eye of 
Beience cm discover in tbe whole, an<l 
in the minutest part, proofs ot creative 
wisdom and all-pcrvadiu^ beneficence ; 
there is in the very music of the rill, the 
lowliest flower, the tinge of the sky, 
the decline or revolution of the year; 
a depth of heart apficaliug^ pcrsuasioii, 
which comes as the voice of God to 
the rig'htly disposed breivst. It is thtis 
the Chrislian mind uill reatl, in the 
phenomena of nature, the types and 
shadows of its course through Ibis 
low world into eternity. And thus 
to take an itiiprcssive instance, tiie 
changes of tiie year as they revolve 
before our eyes in their fleeting circle 
of deeply felt vicissitudes, seem to 
shadow out tlie correspondent seasons 
of humari life — the blosi^omy yoyth^ 
the ardent liopetul miitnriiy, the un- 
certain harvest, tbe chill decline and 
decay, where poetry hang^s \\s un- 
availini^ wreath, and philosophy drops 
the comparison, while the Christian — 
hut we reserve the contintiation of Ibis 
comparison for a moment more, tbut 
we may interpose some remarks from 
which it may derive a fuller interest. 

If the worldly mintled person who 
feels his mind repelled by the imay:tiied 
gloom of s I )i ritual religion, while he is 
profoundly ig-noriint of th«t purer and 
neavenher peace which the worlii 
cannot gri?e, were to ask us for some 



sensible illustratiou of the nature of 
that happiness which the truly Chrb- 
tian spirit can extract from adversity 
itself, we should refer him to the 
well-known language of the great 
volume of nature for impressive, 
though perhaps forgotten experieucea. 
We would desire him, to recall to bis 
mind those hills and dalrs, those moors 
and lakes, and streams, those lawns, 
and plantations, and fdrests. the haunts 
of enrlier years, which even among the 
corruptions and troubles of the world 
cannot be recall t-d without 'the traces 
which they indelibly beat of older and 
better feelinsrs — of affections and joys 
which would lie called Jead; but 
which the world has entombed alive 
lu the corriiptions which it too soon 
encrusts the heart. How often ha^e 
such alfecting recollections wrung the 
worldly breast, and drawn from its 
weariness the sentiment so affectingly 
expressed by Gray : — 

>^ I feel the gales that from ^e blow 
A njoroenUry youth beitow, 
A lid breathe a Mscond spring.'* 

We would assure him, that the fresh- 
ness of heart, tbe sing I en ess and sim* 
plicity of view, and the disengaged 
freedom, to which he would in his wis- 
dom refer these recollected gleams of 
early peace, are to be recovered in the 
cultivation of that wisdom and those 
affections* which they who know arc 
beautifully said to become ** as little 
children." The Christian, as he be- 
comes more and more disengaged from 
the fiillacies and snares of the world, 
gains by a parity of progress a pro- 
poriioiial sense of more pure, holy, 
and true affiCtions. He not only be- 
comes ** alive unto God," but as n 
consequence, he ucquircs a sense of his 
presence in all bis works j he reads 
the sauie mind in all ; to him every 
ol^jcct is a touch of the hand *' which 
createth all worlds, and without him 
nottiing was made that is made," All 
is but a sacred liinguage, of which the 
words were pronounced by the Al- 
migiity voice ere the world was made. 
In the contemphilion of this glo- 
rious world, the religious spirit alone 
is truly awake to the effects of nature. 
Tbe Chri?ti;4n jihilosojyher only does 
not translate them into false and 
earthly meanings. He docs not Hnd in 
those works which are thoughts of God, 
a sympathy with piissious which he is 
ftrbhblen to cherish. To him tbe 
slightest thing that bears the impress 
of divine power is filled with haUoired 
meaning ; and it is impossible for bin 



I 

I 



1837.] 



The Hours. 



195 



to look abroad without being reminded 
of Him who has laid the foundations of 
the earth — and feeling that all things 
in heaven and earth bear testimony to 
the one g^at truth, on which his 

E resent peace and future hope are 
uilt. 
How beautifully to the mind thus 
prepared does the Toiee of the pre- 
sent season speak. And M'ith what 
exquisite felicity have Christiun moral- 
ists selected its fallen leaves and faded 
flowers as emblems of the tomb of 
man. And when the merely human 
instinct recoils in awe or terror from 
the fearfully impressive aspect of that 
event which terminates the shadowy 
vista of our days ; how simply sublime 
is the added type which the Christian's 
hope supplies to complete the figure. 
Not more surely shall the withered 
flower again revive when the spring 
returns, than the dead, in Christ, shall 
rise at his second coming to judge the 
world. 

With this view, how happily has 
the commemoration of the Redeemer's 
birth been placed in the very heart of 
this season of decay, illustrating as it 
were the passage through the valley of 
the shadow of death, disarming its 
terror and driving its gloom, and 
throwing an emblematic glory and 
moral sublimity over the ruins of the 
year. 

There is, it will be thought, no real 
gloom in the aspect of winter. The 
social spirit brigntens as the face of 
nature gathers increasing desolation ; 



it brings round the reunions of home 
circles ; it teems with young associa- 
tions of festive liberty ; the most spirit- 
stirring hours are those of the sharp 
clear frost, and pleasant firesides of 
December. But, alas, how soon are 
these but the recollections of things 
departed — the shadows of the tomb. 
Most deeply interwoven with the 
solemn feeling, that our earthly joys 
are leaving us. As we advance 
through life, Christmas comes stamped 
with the memory of faces, which have 
ceased to greet us in the social ring. 
And the scenes where happiness 
breathed are sad, because they are 
become lonely. Now it is here that 
the Christian spirit may still extract a 
solemn pleasure from the associations 
of the season, from which life has 
thus departed into futurity. And as 
the parents of his childhood, and the 
loved companions of his youth, throng 
round him with the smiles and words 
of early years, faith and hope throw 
their blessed light from heaven upon 
the beautiful shades of remembered 
love. His vcrif social affections breathe 
in heaven where his heart unites them 
all with Christ. And as the day of 
his departure approaches, it is welcome 
as was once the morn that was to light 
him on the homebound journey to meet 
the kindred of his younger days. Such 
is the moral of nature, to the mind 
that reads it with the one true prepa- 
ration — the volume written by the 
hand of God. 



THE nouRS. 

At early dawn, when from the eastern hill 
The golden eye of morn awakes the prime ; 
And dewy mists, from lowland field and rill 
Breathe upward, while each bowery wild lies still ; 
Methought I've heard the low-toned wheels of Time 
Up the far dusk, keeping their way sublime 
Still constant on ; while mortal labors stay. 

And hearing, sighed I 'tis thus the moments keep 
Their fleeting course, — and bear our lives away 
With even swiftness, whether toil, or sleep. 
Or pleasure cheat us, with supposed delay, — 
Mocked by the still-paced round of night and day. 
q^cy — like the river to its far-off shore 
Throuifh light from darkness glide ; once scon, and seen no more. 

^ J. U. U. 



J9C 



Sj/9tem of Nulioiia! Education. 



SVaTEM OF NATIONAL EDCCATIOV. 



We lake «unie blame to our^rlvea for 
iii>t h.iviij^ (.niilkr calU^iS Uie liit^ lition 
iif tjur re^iiltrs t.» this imju^rtiiiit sub- 
ject i bui ttie niJiission wii$ not alto- 
gether fruiu n< jflert, as we were anxi 
, 4JUS to exunnne llie system in all its 
I bearings, and lo tr) it m well by its 
[practice as its piiuriplc^, bi^ore ive 
k pruiiuunced a decisive 0|jiiii<iij re« 
[tipectiag its fiuieiss or its mifitnes* Tor 
Line piirpoBes which it vva^ intcndu-d to 

The time, lioM'ever, lias now come 
[ H'hciJ any longer si!eni:e ou our part 
[would iiiiiuuiit to a ciitpuble dereliction 
[of duty, Tijis syatent has alreutly been 
Jin opemtlon five years. Of its funds 
[the Romiiii Catholic clergy have 
llitrgcly livalled (liinii&elvejt (or the pur- 

Ijose of alTording in^it ruction to the 
lumbter classes uf ihdr conirnumun. 
j A proposal has been made horn the 
jdioceae of Derrv, aiijned by clergymen 
ttjf the E?tabli^hLd Church, and niJ(it*r 
f the tiaucltoii tif tlae bishop, io which it 
I ]j$ recummenileil that a prupn.^itiuij be 
[ iubmitted to the National Board, up<>n 
compliance With which the tbtab- 
[ iLhed clergy might eooperite with 
[ them in the wtirk of national education. 
[The individuals w^hu subscribed their 
[ Sduies to this propot^uh ^re, some of 
} them, men of high lespecttibility, who 
tliave, on more occaitionit than one, 
■proved the siiicerity of their attacliiaent 
to the cause of true religion j und if 
there be any of them (and we do not 
'•ay that thtrc are) who deserve the 
[character of mere p^>titical adventurers, 
(the worth of the majority, in our eati- 
[l»ation, so far preponderates, as amply 
to entitle their pioject to the most 
respectful conj»idt:ration, 

Dut before we proceed to any de- 
tailed account either of the system 
itself, or the proposition by which it la 
sought to be inudifled, it will be ne* 
cessary to explain our views res pec t- 
ling the important subject to which tiiat 
[fy«lera refers ; as, in our ajjpn hcnsion. 
Lit ia from a mgleut, or an ignorance, uf 
'the real nature of the sutjeit, that both 
inir leifi^lators and our philanlhropifils 
htvve fallen into an error respecting the 
ni-umer in which jiational cducalion 
should be comlucii il. 

Few thtntrs are more natural or more 
laudable, than that a Christian fHiblic 
should feel an anxiiius iiiterf,*fit Liboiit 
the moral v^Lll-being of that destitute 



portion of the cnmrnnnlty, who may be 
described as *M he ignorant, ami ihrm 
that are ont of the w.n,** Nor haiirf 
we ever contemplated the paruchiiil 
divisions of town-*, atid rities, and 
country districts, without feeding the 
influerire of that tie ojiiful principle, 
by which human creatures, no m^ttier 
whiit may be the diversity nf thrir 
rank or circumstance'', arr nractically 
taught lo consider theinseivfs as a 
Christian famity, nesllinir, as it werp, 
for pruiecti n, under the svings of tlieir 
comm>n motluT, th<* Church, and 
pledged to a mnhial interchange of 
sympathy with r heir common joyii and 
sorrows, thut^ if one member rejoicp, 
all the others shoidd rpjoiee, and if 
one member suffer, all the uther niem* 
hers should solFer with it. 

As soon as ever the principle is 
acted upon, that knowledge la power, 
that moment the intellc*ctual begins lo 
tupersede the merely physVca! energies 
of OUT niiture ; artd educatirm and re- 
ftnement being the distinguishing dif- 
f nncfffj between the more exalted and 
the immbler clashes of the communltv, 
the conferring th* &e advantages upon 
such as ha\e them not, becomes, to 
the Christian philanthropist, u pleasing 
and a bounden dnty« liideeci, it is 
al-o a mattrr in \\hich tlie stiite, if it 
he wHe, will lake an earnest and a 
leailiu.: intere-t j as nothing but h 
degne of io^trnction btytind the reach 
of the mukitndt'S, who are placed in a 
Fervile or a drprndant condirion^ can 
verv matrriiiny increase the chances of 
their becofuing good citizens and good 
subjects. We do not say that fuch 
ought to be the only object of a ChnV 
fian government, in multiply ing the 
Isieilrties for the intfruttirin of a Chri*- 
tinn p^opl**, ft is our convkifon that 
higher and deeper th^m merely human 
rrspf>n*iibilitins attach to ell Vhose to 
w*hom are entruj^ted the tenip*»ral iro- 
Terntinre of their fetlnw-men. We 
h:ivc, indeerl, an unnlter^hle prr<U!»glon 
that man wa? mj^de for a stale of so- 
ciety , but our prrsuasinn ii ju? t ng fixeif, 
that eocictv ha« been ordained for the 
moral anutiorution of tnan ; aniL thcte- 
forc, any scheme of insiruclion froviug 
that giCat end of our tnortal boiug out 
of view, or givinif it hut a subordinnte 
importance, mut^t, in imr minds, not 
on!? fall fhorl of what «hnnh[ be aimed 
at, Ijut, in so doing, must frustrate the 



r 



1837,] 



Sf/stem of Naliojuii Education, 



197 



L 



very iufoiior oljjoct which is sought to 
Ut* ttttuiru d, Bwt ibU we affinrti ihiit 
u Vi'me uiid prudent governments look- 
in;^ only 10 lis own Srcurity and well- 
Ucitig-, would be imturkiLly led to tlie 
C(tiJi-lu>)ori of the ins(iired writer, that 
" ri^hteou^nc^*s exalleth a uutioij f' and 
iUu should inspire them with a con- 
victioiJ, that that iustniction in rig^hte- 
oitSiie^a, v^hicdi is here commended, 
should cunstiiute the busk of their 
educational *y*trm ; a conviction which, 
io [iroportloii \ij& they are saj;aciou^ in 
dUceruiiig^ rven its tem|>f*rul conse- 
quiftice^ worthl he quite asctmstrdinin^ 
and qoitt! as i^fiiciicioiH as that which 
would mlujte the CbfisiiiiD who mii- 
rtTely Lieli»n'i"d Lind felt **lhut sin was 
a r«|}]uach to any |iey]jle.** 

Now this hrin^fl us to the prinpipa! 
pi»iut Ai i*jue between tiie partlzaiis of 
the ojiposing- jty^tcEnSr which me at 
pn *iiit stiug-piliog for ihe maf^trry in 
iu\% country. Can nationa] edne^itinn 
be ttdvjutii^eoti-'ly prosecuted, withont 
briiii^ b^std lijioo religion? The 
nffii'tudtive of the proposition is muin- 
C«4iued by a laige majority of the fa- 
vourers of the new national bonrd. 
They would* pcrhapR, prefer an etlo- 
ctelKiii sti icily conneett-d with religion j 
but deeuiiug thut iinpt SBible, tlu y re- 
gard it, as far as it |^oe«*as a good '^pvr 
tr^ and are disposed to say. 
" Grt qootuD prodlre ienus, li hod datur ukr«," 

Tiieir iidversarie*, on the omlrary, 
maintain that the fear of the Luid tniist 
be the brgiuning of wiadtttn. They 
feel ihdl any wi>dum which btgiiu in 
^fty other way, lias its ru> t in bumun 
^pmvity, and can never be expected 
la bt-Af the peaceable fruits of rightc- 
OUAD^tt. They arc convinced that 
the wiflJom which in fro in tibove must 
be *'Jir4i pure, ^n peaceable ;" and 
they are not a little ennfirmed in their 
conviction by tlie godly adnaonition of 
ftttotlier apo^ilCf ** to add to their faith, 
vifiuc, to virtue, knowledge.** Indeed, 
not merely an attenttoti to the word of 
Gud, but an obsiTvation of llie state of 
tra'ietVt has iaUi^ficd thein^ that, to at- 
lerapt'ihe civil or poliiicaJ amelioration^ 
vtttbout having" made a [irt vie i us provi- 
sion ft>r the nmral and religions vi< II- 
brin^, of I heir fellow men, viould hebe- 
|£tnniu|r at the wiong etui ; that it would 
be like nlaniirrg me tree witli the root 
up and the brunches down ; and that the 
only certahi result must be, the destruc- 
tion of both root ^nd braiiches. They 
were fitti«lied,ia faet,lhat merely hnmnn 
inairuction, unaccoinp.inicd by divine 
knowJeii-c* would be ***ijv>ini5' the 



wind," and that ihey eonid f>nlv exiret 
by so doing, *'(o reii[i the wbiilwirid,*' 

The oiher pariy were of ojiinion, 
that liU!tn:oii kTiowliJue would nutnralJy 
lend to divine j thut a knowiedire of 
readin*'^, writing;, atid dritlinii tic cunld 
hardly he attained, without heintr ac- 
coirpuiicd I'y a thirst for pmII farihr-r 
inf*itiijari< n of u diireieit um* a lii|5her 
kitid and that, most as-su redly, the 
skill wideh Imd be^n ait|ni[ed would 
enabb' thu^e who luid wrquired it more 
reEidvly to rtad thf IhhU, 

To this It was jTi'swered, that, in ihe 
case sn[ipo«ed, it vi;is not thepou'^r but 
\\w dis2*^iitivn which mas svjiiiitd ; that 
it w.is o;rf ibiiii; to hiiii*^ ih* horse to 
the Witter i Hin»l]ier, nod a very dilVerent 
thing^, rb make him drink; tliat the 
veiy Same mestns which f»cilitdted ibe 
rctidin^^ofthe Itiljle. fHciliiaie<3,idso,tl e 
reiuiiiig of many things which could 
brin^jT with them very litile pn-fit, even 
if thr y Here m^t, in a uiitjotity c f In- 
stancea, corrupiiog or pr«»fane ; and 
that, humiin nature hcing what it K 
what both reason and Scripture teach 
us 11 nin-t bf\ until infiunied and actu* 
ated hv the Spirit of God, the inelina- 
til n <d the great majoiity of maiikiiid 
iio4St be, to abuse rather thun to derive 
moitit beneht from their tnerely tem- 
[loral advantages. 

It will be seen, at a glance^ that the 
pariirs whose conflicting views wc are 
thos cooiraiiiing, were compoged, in the 
main, resfteclively, of the worldly and 
ihe religious members of society. We 
do not [Qean^ that the former would be 
ttuly defiigtuited as altogether without 
religion; or^that the latter could be 
de^cril ed, as allogctbfr without a cer- 
tain admi^Eure of worldlinrss ; tut^ as 
far as our observation has gone, we are 
convinced, thstt, in the one, feeling and 
principle predomimtUd, which caused 
them, in every project which they 
patronised^ tt» give the vppvrmoti 
place in their th<»iij^^hla to the world 
that now is ; ond that, in the other, 
feeling and principle piedondnatcd, 
which rendered theni» in all things 
which (hey jnil their Immla unto, chiefly 
regardful of *' the wiirh! tlut is to 
c« tne.** Wc woidil say that they were 
also dilfcrent*cd by very opposite prac- 
tical persuasion-* resjiecting the cor- 
ruption of human nature. The one 
looked upon man as a being, fallen, 
inde d, from the high estate of pri- 
meval innocence, Lot still, by careful 
moral robure, enabled to stand in his 
own upnghtneus and inU*gnty ; and, 
tliLicfoie, re«|uiring V\k\\c more than 



198 



S^/sU'tn of National Education* 



suitable aid fur the ilevelopmeut of 
uatural powers, by svlricli his lubereiit 
depravity might be corrected. They 
looked upon huiitanity ua u iiussof coin- 
miu^ltd good and evil, wliicb po&at^sses 
hi iixtff a pripciple of depuratiosi, 
and that, by instruciion and di^eipEinf, 
l«uc!b as it U man's to give, a recLihcatJon 
I and un adjoBtineut umy Like place, by 
l^rhich individuals may be reclaimed, 
Und the laue t>f society most impmV' 
jiiEily uttered. The other are thorough 
rijelievers in the doctrine, that man bas, 
I Indeed, ** very llir gone from bis ofi- 
Igmal rigbteouane&a ;" that, left to biru- 
elf, he uuvst only go on from bad to 
f worse, and is wholly im-apable of ac- 
^complisbing bis oxvn redemption from 
I tliiit ihraldom to sin in vvhicii be is taught 
[that the crime of one has pkced luui ; 
[ibut it requires a strength wo/ hit own to 
I take him out of that bondage of cor- 
I flip t ion, which he feels to be as much 
his inheritance as bis natural life from 
[the Brat mdn, and that he can only 
I hope, morally and religiously, to live 
and breathe aguin, by ih»^ preventing 
and assisting grace of God cooperating 
\ for his debverance and his restoration. 
I Our readers will, we are assured, par- 
don us lor thus eidargmg upon a dis- 
tinction between the supjiurters and 
I lire opposers of the national aehools, 
I vhen they consider that it is one which 
must have had no small influence bi 
deterojining the respective parlies in 
their widely tlifferent persuasions. It 
[cannot be wondered «it, that, thinking 
I they do, the one should rest in mere 
human instruction, as abundantly suf- 
ficient to attain all tbal may be neces- 
tary ** for life and for godliness ;'* and 
that the other should believe, that, 
untU some deeper foundation has been 
laid, notliing ett'eclual can be done for 
the promotion of that bobness which 
affords the only valid security for 
peace upon earth, and is the indis- 
pensible qualiBcatioa for the happiness 
f, of heaven* 

VVc are the more earnest in advert- 
ing to the view which bus been now 
disclosed, because we arc well con- 
; "vinced, not only that the one party err. 
Dot knowing cither hutnan nature or 
the Scriptures as they should be 
knt>wn, but, that the other party have 
not been wise or consistent in follow- 
ing out the better views and the 
aounder principles, with which it was 
their privilt^ge to be acquainted. 

The Kildarc-place system — what is 
iltat? ft is one accordbig to which 
the Scriptures must, indeed, l>c rend. 




[Feb, 



but, by a strict compliance with which, 
tbev hardly can be digested. The 
children are luide familiar with ihe 
letier, and may catch a portion of the 
fipirit ; but any systematic religious 
instruction is us little to be expected 
from such a perusal of the word of 
God as ia thrre enjuined, where verbal 
or written connnentary is rigidly iu* 
terdictcd, as the majority of uidearned 

Ijcrsons could derive of astronomical 
tnowledge^ by simply gaziug at the 
stars. 

We are very well aware of the 
amiable and considerate feelttigs which 
gave rise to ihese restrictive regala- 
tiuns. The object of the founders of 
that society was, to make it as exten- 
sively useful as possible. For this 
purpose, they were studious in avoidiug 
to give any pnferencc to any one par- 
ticular creed, and, most especially, to 
avoid every thing which could alarm 
the jealousy of the Roman Catholic 
priesthood. Their aim was to embrace 
us large a portion as possible of their 
benighted fellow countrymen, within 
the range of their instruction ; and, 
provided the reading of the Bible was 
assented to, they were not desirous of 
inculcating the tenets of any particular 
sectj under the persuasion, that thus, 
without force or compulsion, tliose who 
bad been so long led captive by their 
blind guides, would be, gradually, 
brought out of darkness, into the mar- 
vellous light of the gospel. 

Now, plausible as this view of the 
subject appears, we have no hesitation 
in pronouncing it erroneous. No auf- 
Hcient provision could thus be made 
for instructing any portion of the 
people in the principles of true re- 
ligion. Therefore, the education which 
might have been afforded, must have 
wanted ihe only foundation upon ^hich 
it cuidd be based, with any prospect 
of advanta^^a^ That children should 
be permitted to read the Scriptures 
while all commentary is withheld, while 
all catechisms are prohibited, and the 
lips of I he teachers absolutely pad- 
locked against any attempt at ex- 
plaining the various difficnltioa which 
nmst .suggest themselves to tender 
minds — this is but a very doubUul 
boon ; and, while such a regiiljition 
was, in strictness, required to be ob- 
served, it might well be contended that 
the Kildare- place Society neglected a 
most important part of its bounden duly; 
as far as it was no/ complied with,itmigiit 
bo charged with a positive breach of 
faith. So I bat, religious instruction, 



J 



I837.J 



Stf$iefn of National EducaUutu 



199 



I 18; 

I properly so called, muFt eiiher be tio wise unto e^lvution. In both aritiei 

I gl<?cte<l acayrding lo rule, or taug'bt patluns Uiey were Mjietakcri. Light 

1 contrary tu rule — aitd \\e scarculy know eiioQp:li was let in to arouse prcjudicL* ; 

^^ppiiich of the alternalivt^s involved ct>n- siitHcieiit Hgbt wus not kH iii to eerva 

I lUe 

lent 



liich of the alternativt'S involved con- 

QtietieoB tiie in ore irijuricjus. 

VVe were present in the gallery of 
lUe Haiisii ut' Commons when the late 
|tmentcd Mr. Nurtb nmde the \mi 

eecb which he ever delivered, in de- 
fence of the Rildare-jiluee instituLian, 
and in oppusitiou to Lord ^^imileya 
i&ilvocacy of the system at present iit 
operiUioii under t[je Boiird of Natiuoid 
hducalMjn. Hia defence cousisled m 
a taadatory detail of the iibvtut regula- 
tions of bis tuvonrite society, and h 
glowing^ enuiuer-iitiuti of speeilie iii- 
Slances, in winch a desire to avoid all 
iiuerfcreiice wiih reHi^iou-s peculiarities, 
and a rcii[)cct fur tender conscietices 
Witd a X hi bite d. One of tliese struck 
us very forcibly, and we will meutioo 
it fur the edih cation oi the reader : 

*• I WAA present," said th(j lenr^ed jren- 
tleman, *' one day at the dinniM' of the 
»chnolmn«ten, who nre sent from the 
different partJ of Ireland to learn the 
mode of teaching ^mrsued in the oiodel 
schooh and 1 wat struck, and, until it 
^a& explained, oifended, by an omission 
which 1 thought very slraiiiife. Ths meal 
was comnicnced and co.icluded wilhout 
any ^nice having been said- Having du- 
sired iin explanation of thi^, I wk3 in- 
formed that the iudividuids at laljle were 
of diHerent religious dcnominatiuni, and» 
no common gracu havinij: been agreed on, 
in which they mij^rlitt all join, the gover- 
nors thought It buLter to dispt'nse with 
amj^ lest some amungst the tcachoi^ 
&hould b« olfcnded I" 

Such, we solemnly assure the r+*adeT, 
constituted part of the defence which 
was otfcred by this gifted and amiable 
gentleman for the society of which he 
was the most distinguished ornament ; 
and, we ask, can any thing more 
l>e fcfjuircd to prove that its liberality 
was carried too far, and that Chnsti- 
anily itself wa;* compromised, in an 
over anxiety for its dissemination ? 
We know, and wc revere the good i«- 
tentiOHi of the gentlemen by « hose un- 
wearied benevoleuce that society was 
sustained* Nothinf^ ever was farther 
from their hearts than, by a specions 
latitudinurianism, to injure the cause 
of true religion. By inG-isttng* that 



for adequate religious guidance ; and 
timse upon whose minds any ellect 
could be produced, must be rather 
confused and bewildered by it. than 
enlightened. The reading, writing, 
and arithmetic jiartis of tlie system went 
im very well. There were ho dis- 
Beiiters respecting these, whose pre* 
possessions were to be consulted. It 
was only ujion religion that aueb u 
diversity of opinion prevailed, m^ ren- 
dered it expedient, Ui the judgment of 
the fuumlers of this society, tcj limit 
their exertions to the bare "reading of 
the unexplaiued sacred word — \x prac- 
tice sUkicb may, no doubt, ifi some in- 
stances, have been productive of useful- 
ness, but wliicb,in many^nmsl have been 
almost as unprofital jIc as i f t he Bible hud 
been coutkiincd iu a dead language I 

But, by far the mo<it deplorable re- 
sult of this lalitHdlnnrtan system, was, 
that it led to the present scheme ot 
naticmal education. The object of its 
fonudcrs was to realize a mtaimttm of 
extent, and a imnimum of rcligiuns re- 
quirement ; ami they so far diluted and 
generalijted religion as to leave it little 
bitter than a name* This they did for 
the purpose of conciliating ' Roman 
CAihoilcst^ and thci/ faded. Lord Stanley 
arrived here when the storm was 
raging, that had been stirred up by the 
a rt i fi ees of i h e [) ri es t s . He saw c fearl y 
I lie impossibility of subduing the op- 
position which ha*l been aroused, He 
saw also that (be tctigiuns instruction 
conveyed by the Kildare-place system, 
was the very next thing to no refigions 
instruction at all ; and that there would 
be no great inconsistency in those 
who had gone sa far, going a iiiite far- 
ther ; and, accordingly, he devised the 
plan IV Inch is at present so unhappily 
in such extensive ojjcration, and to 
which but little shew of objection could 
be made by those who were so ca>ilj 
satisfied by the very small amount of 
religious uistruction which was pro- 
vided for in the Kildaie*place system. 
As an argumentiim ad horninem ap- 
plied to the advocates of that sj^stem, 
Lord Stanley's speech was perfectly 
unanswerable ; and. indeed, tne sauje 



the holy Scriptures should uni be ex- may be said of the defence of the Na- 

plaincd, they imagined that they would tional Board, which has been put lor- 

pfnpitiate the haters of the light ; by ward by his Grace the Archbishop of 

iu«.Htiug that they should be read, they Dublin. The man \>ho pretcudfi to 

thought that all the children who frc- keep a horse alive by giving him two 

quented their schools would be made or three barley corns u-duy, does not 



2)0 



System of National Edttcation. 



[Feb 



ditfiT very widely from the m;in who truth, by insinuftting", into the youngs 
IfiiinlveB to tlestioy him, by starving tninrl, any iiniibts Fes|ioctini» Its pena- 
IhiiiL <'iMn^lu ; ami the latter may, hy inenpss and authenticity. In the na- 
' many, be ihought to have the udvin- tional schaols the Bible is u pTohibited 
tage, because be does liot combine the bouk, and the only tnin»1?ition of por- 
I iiioekery of feeding, with the misery tlons of the New Testament which is 
of kilhn^ the aniinul by a ttHlione pFO- siitfrrrd to appear, is one which fieemi 

*• .^ *:„^ »r,x ^..^ ^\r,A^ lf^ have bepn made with little other 

vif'w th m thiit of bring-in^ contempt 
oii tlie established vertion ; a id h *o 
iritcrlnrded with imtes, and critieisoi*, 
and Ttferenee^ to the conflii-tin^ opi- 
nions ofvurion.t learned theolog'ijns, as 
tbouirb it were desii^ned in mopkery of 
the tender capaekies (if those for whose 
nse It lias been prepared. We may 
not siiVi and we do not, indeed, br-lirre, 
that the reverend nnd the rijrht re- 
verend memliers of the Established 
Church belonging tn the Hoards m- 
ttnded thus to eithibit the uncer- 
tain guidance which is afforded by 
the written wordt for the pnrpose of 
sn^'-gesting the more assurea direction 
which 16 enjoyed by those who (mt 
ihemselvefi implicitly under the g-o- 
v<*rnance of tniilition ; \mU if i'uch had 
b<^tu their desii^'n, thrir object eouM 
lint be more eompleiely answered. 
Assuredly, Dr. M»irray has lu* reason 
to be dissLitiafied with ji system which 
is so well calnd.itetl to ^uNerve ibe 
ends tff the mfnihhte church j and if 
much bu3 been gnined by cffectinur the 
exrlosion of the Bible from theschoolt, 
still nitsre ha<» been gained by efFeeting 
the introtluction of such a poor, su»- 
pieitjus, and unauthorised rendering- of 
ii |>ortron of it» as must confirm all the 
prejudices against it which ha^e been 
instiUed inti) one class of leiirnen«» and 
cause it to be regarded, by the other, at 
hut a very doubtful help in the way of 
life everlasting'. 

It h mueh to be lamented , that the 
attention of g*>vernraent, and of Lord 
Statdey in pjirticular, was not early 
turned to the working of that system 
which had been *o loi'g- in operation, 
under thf* Association for DUcounte- 
nanriiig Vice, and which was m;]nagred 
chiefly^ by the instrujnentality of the 
established clerL'y. This was indeed, 
a system, which, if more extensively 
furnished with means of usefulness, was 
calculated, in our judg^ment, to do 
m >rc fnr the moral, r< li^iuus, and lite- 
rary tmpro%emeitt of the people, than 
any uitiei viiUi w bit h we are uctpiaiuted. 
i lie Ivihliirt -pl.tce Society recom- 
ineiidfd ii>elf by the accominudfiting 
tiliuiacter oF its rule* and regulations; 
and had such respect for the religious 
Bcruptes of ait ihose who were cod- 



1 



' ces-i of mact ration. To our minds 
thi« is no extravagant ejceinplificaiion 
uf the difference between those who 
P'ive no gufficifnt supply of r^^lij^ious in- 

I it ruction, Lind tbc^se uho^ive no reb^jTi- 
ou^ ini^truetion at all i dnd,Hhhouj:bi tin- 
doubted ly it dots not juality the wis- 
dom tif Cord Stanley's plun, it silences 
those advocates of the Rillare-pUee 
system* who object, that it dtjea not 
make religion its b*isis. In truth, re- 
lig:ioii was Sii fur slighted by the one 
pxiity,, as greatly to palliate its neglect 
by the olJier, 

* Tliis, howt^ver, muH be said, that the 
truly bouourable and conscit^ntious in- 
dividu.da, by vvboui the Kildiire-place 
iy*»tem w*js devised, would never have 
suffered it to br perverted into an en- 
gine for the proiuoiion of popery in 
Ireland. Tliis, at Itust, was elfed uiilly 
ffuarded ag-aoi^t, by their zealous super- 
inteudence, and it is very Iji^^hly pos- 
Bible that popeiy may liave&utTcred t-ven 
j TO rathe dy^rce ufb^ht which was let in 
upon it by the reading of the unadulter- 

I Mted word of God. Certain it is that 
the Romish priests be^un very early to 
take tiie utarui ; and the demo^o^ues 
also 8JW that a handle uii^bl be made 
4>f it. to pioiiiott: their pot itictil objects. 
Hence the outcry tnat was raised 

f M'^ainst it, and wliich never ceased un- 
til uur iufalaated rulers yielded to the 
demiiu'lb of u t'liction, who, Bndiog that 
darkness could uo longer be substituted 
for li^bt, cunirivtd to procure a sort 
of bglit, which was better for their |;Uf- 
po:;^!!^ than auj/ durkness. 

We must repeat, that the Kildare- 
place Society were the btidy, who^ by 
lovverin^jf the level of Christian require- 
ment for public iiiatruetion, furnished 
tlie excu^ei which has been so readily 

\ acted optin, of ubandoniug it altogether 
But, U must bt: aaid, that, in their 

i ii'bools, the Bible was, at Itrast, a de- 
ni^&en, Tiie cluldren hud an oppor- 
tunity of hearing it read, in versioita, 
which tlit^y were, in their respective 

denominaiioii«, tauaht (o veniTatt^ 

The sayoiL!* uud the doui^j, ut ibc 
Lord of Lift' were exhiinud to their', 
as they are preseiilett to nei ity die in- 
(i|>ired penmen ; and imtuing wujs iltnit: 
whieO could diminish their respect for 
tbat inestimable treasure or divine 



I 



I 



I 



J 



r 



1837,] 



System of I^aliojial Education, 



201 



[ 



noAed with ir, that it forebore to tcHch 
the religious principlrfi of any. ** The 
AASOCiMtioTi*' felt, t!iai» by proceetlin^j 
upon such a [ilan, it woittd be ctimpro- 
misiiig: the truth of God, ami felting a 
most peniitioiis eiamplp of indiffereru'e 
respecting the mode in whieh tie should 
be worshipped. Accord 'm|fly» while 
the Bible was read hy n/t the rhiklTcii 
who frequented th^ir 8choo!<«, the cate- 
chism wiis taught, und siiita^ilo rpligi'^is 
inetmction was given » »n all those he- 
Ion i^ing tt> the churrb of En*?lnnd* 
The SLho<»lmaater« wt^re aW appninie*! 
by the cler^M ih'M* tvf ihi- rrs[»pHive 
pari^hf»8, uutl were strictly uTnli^r their 
iup*^niit>'ndei!CP uud eoutn'l; and 
Id bile mere lilerary in^trurtinii, lo^e- 
thei with such monil stid religious iii- 
funnution as mi|^ht be pleaned from 
reudin^ the H«»ly Scnpluree^w.ts freely 
irnpiirted to all, speciHl care was tuknn, 
by the inculearitin of our crt^eda and 
formulnries to promote, in all the inrtn- 
bers of the eH.ihlishmeut, uccordin^ to 
that m<»del which the state ha*? d#^eined 
the in<»*l ap|irovrd, the knfiwled^'-c and 
[tTiiCtiee of i»nr divirre religiou. 

And n'>w for tlie result. The readier 
m^y »upjiii»e lliat this narrow and ex- 
clusive system, as he raay he pleased to 
c.dl it, hiid the effeet of bkiiiishimr Ho- 
tn m Catholic^* from the Asisori itiou 
schriuK an<i rrnth-ring tliern niere se- 
niiti^ries »or the children of the esiiib- 
litbed church No sur-h thin^. Tlifse 
schools continue to thh day to he just 
as fretjuently ri'surted to f>y chiklren 
of the one denomination, a.^ by children 
of the other. We believe, ('we apeak 
tVoQD oiciuoryt) tlmt out of fruu) ft.ur- 
tucu to sixtt^en thousdud ciuldreM, who 
«re tbua in process yf ifduiutioti, JtMy 
ame Mf are Roman Caiholii-S I And, 
what \& more, thiit moit uuuouiprumia- 
in^ society i» the only one a^hiuiflt 
which ^n outcry ha& not, at one time 
or auotherJ>een raised, upon the gt ound, 
that iu schools were mere traps for 
converts ! 

The character of these schools may 
be teamed from the report of the edu- 
cation commissioner's, a maj*inty of 
whom ent«^red iifion th<ir erT']uiry, 
with prejudices against the Estublij^hed 
Church, not to hv easily overcome That 
report was made at\er a dih^pn^ and, 
we may add, a jealou<« pergonal exami- 
nation of them, and it is as favourable, 
and, indeed, as Oatterin^ as their best 
fiieuds could wish. The wjiteroJ this 
|>aper was iu the gallery ol the liouiie 
of Coinuions when Air. Stanley dis- 
cloc^fd his project of the present 



HHtiitnal system, and he had the sa- 
tist'artion of seeing Mr Fraiiklatid 
Lewis rise in hi?* place, and inter- 
ceii« fur the schools of the Assoeiaiiuu, 
with Jin ekiruestness which pruved his 
conviction of iheir worth, ahhouifh, uu- 
hajipily, without being iible to prevail 
u])(>n ihe hon«uriihlr mover to leave 
evt^u ih:it little city of refuse to the 
absiuihmed and j>eraecuted Protestants 
of Ireland* 

ISoWj what do these facts prove?— 
Tluy prove, thut, atti r the fairest trinl, 
a ?ysi*^m of compromise has, comparn- 
tiv*^ly hiiled, and an uufMUs promising 
*yptem 1ms ccimparalively succeeded. 
They prove, that lliere is no ufc, hut 
the (Oiiirary, in directing or eiiconrag- 
ing the people ^o regard the Ettabltihed 
Church fii fin offence. Hie reli^'ion of 
the Btate is entitled to the respect of 
fi/l j, — the civil tua|:i?f rate nhnuhi nee that 
it is not treated uith disrefifpeet by 
rtr/i^oflhe suhjeets of tiiis realm. If 
il be corrupt, let it he relbrmed ; if it 
lie erroneous, let it iw. eorrecteiL It 
claims no exemption from human Im* 
perfection or hum m itiHrmity ; — it ar- 
rogates not to iuelf the attribute of in- 
fallibility. Hut, MS Irin^** as it it the 
ESTARJ Ht!RF> chorch, it is weakne>= and 
fotly to admit the ootitui, that its mere 
existence should he rpgarded, by any 
class (d'mir felluw-eubject*, as a griev- 
ance, or that I hey, or any of them, are 
entitleii to take exet^ption against a 
system of national education, because, 
while it may be made available hy all, 
it is conducted in a manner that reu- 
di»rs it peculiarly favourable to the 
moral and religion* bringing up of the 
children who j^rofesa the national reli- 
gion. 

It is onr belief, that, if the principle 
were fullv and tatrly acted upon, all 
those dirtieuUies would vanish, which 
have, more or less, clogged uod ob- 
structed every educalictn project which 
has hpen acted npon since it was aban- 
doned. As far n^ education was use- 
ful, it would be sought, and il would 
be found, hy all those i^ho really 
desirt^d it for its own sake, und who 
were disposed to make a good use of 
the opportunities which would hp af- 
fo rd ed . T b i s is abu n d an i ly p r* > v p d by 
the success which attended the Asso- 
ciation schools. But, if ttie govern- 
ment of the country show an example 
of invlitference respecting the Estab- 
lislicd Chuich. it is only natural that 
tiiose who dis-seut from it, »houhi ex- 
it ioit an (ivcrsion ; and if its natural 
protectorB are not disposed to exert 




202 



St/$iem of NaHonal Education^ 



[Feb. 



themsQlveii tu defence of lia rights, it 
cannot be supposed thiit they will be 
rfgarded with rever^MiuL* Ijj its [mtural 
enemies J or that Lhe^^e vviil lbrey:o any 
favuuruble 0])piirtuiiiiy tliat may pre- 
i.«eiit itself of crii^pliug its iiieiiris, 
'mbridging it« (Kivi leges, or undenniii- 
ing its auliiority. 

But, it wdl be said, if we Umit tlie 
instrumcutality for tliffasing insLmction 
Lthrougb the iimss of tlie population iii 
Ireland, to the estJ^blislicd cler^'v, its 
estvnt iimst be circuiusenbcd irideeJ ; 
atidf if we shackle it with the cniidi- 
iiou of iiictilcLititi;^;' the tenetjj of the 
estuhlishcd church, upon the ebildreu 
professing that cr>miyanion» it must 
become so unpopular as tu be almtist 
r without any beuefieial operjtion. To 
Ltlie latter idlcg^ati^m we reply, by de- 
lliyiu:^: the fact ; and we appeal to whnt 
llr^is heeij already stiited, re^jpecting- the 
Working: of the si stem set on fout by 
[the Asioeiatiou for Discounteniineiiv^ 
J Viee»as funiishinijf its subatantiul relu* 
j taliou. To the former, we reply by 
I «l a ting, that we ;ire fitr, indeed, from 
[ wishing' to limit the luauiLgemeut and 
[superiuLeudeuee ofsueh a natiomil sys* 
Item as^ we desire to sec in operntioii, 
[to the clergy of the esliiblished church ; 
[and we are not only favourably dis- 
I posi'd lo, but we earnestly covet, the 
1 cooperation of all those enlightened 
' If/y members who take a livi-ly iutereat 
[ in the moral and religious well-being 
[of tlieir felhiw-men ; and even of such 
dissenters ua may agree in the doc- 
Ittine, while they object to the discipline 
of the Church of England. Of ihc 
favoiirnlilc disposition of many such, 
we feel well assured. We have ul- 
' wayB, in our own mtnds, made a dis* 
I tinclion between the tivcvt and llie 
bUier dissenters — between those who 
dissent from llie teadcrness of their 
consciences; and those who dissent 
from the jierversity of their uatnres^ — 
I between those whose dissent indicates 
) leligions peculiiirity, and those whose 
4isseut indicates political discontent — 
' between thoH^ whose dissent arises 
' from a hatred of the established ehnrch, 
and those whose dissent arises from an 
aspiration after a perfcclioo, to be 
aought, beside, or, beyond it; nnd of 
, this latter, (wliich we hope we may call 
[ hy far the more numerous ekiss,) we 
I lire persuaded lfr.it a vast miijority 
mould be fouud, who would cordially 
I Cooperate with the established clergy. 
I in carrying out, into cjttensjve opera- 
tion, a system of national instruction, 
modelled uj)on the plan of that to 



which we have already »o favuiinibtv 
adverted* and which has had so mueli 
suecess, under so many disadvantages. 

It is^ indeed, much to be lamented, 
that, in the matter of education, ffualiijf 
has been made secondary to qtmrUit^t 
and deplA has been leas considered 
than surface. The efficiency of a given 
system has been judged of rather by 
the extcul to which it may have 
f cached, than byi^^/rwiifof which it ha£ 
been productive. And hence» the 
hasty preference which is so frequently 
given, to plans, which, soeminiu'ly* em- 
brace niucn, while they accomplish little, 
aliove tho^e which, secmin^Hy, embrace 
little, while they accomplish much. 
There is a noisy barrenness, which Is 
loo often admired; and there is a 
noiseless industry, which is too oficn 
disregarded. 

Much of evil has, we are persuaded^ 
resulted from an aneuqit to force edu- 
Ciition upon a rehietant people. It 
should be the object ttf wise men, rather 
to e*vmte the api^tiitc isst instruction, 
than to anticipate, it by providing an 
over supply of food. When the de- 
sire i\i ktiowiedgc has once been awak- 
ened, and its advantages exhibited, in 
the present state of soiiely the meaas 
of intillectnid improvement will readily 
be foimd ; and the chief business of the 
eidightened Christian philanthropist ■ 
should be, so to regulate the instruction V 
to be conveyed, as that the iiitcllectiml 
should not get an imjair tturl of the 
moral nature, M 

AVe cannot look arontid ua without I 
seeing, that the facilities are great, as > 
compared with those which existed at 
any former period, for quickening and 
developing the mere intellect, and 
storing tlie mere understanding of the 
multitude; wliite d'rticulties, almost 
enually numberless, jiresent themrelvcs, 
whieh must operate, if not removed, tu 
seriously checking, or grievously per- 
verting the growih of those principles 
whieh wouhi lead thciu to cmbruce and 
to venerate true religion. The one set 
of faculties are, as it were, placed in a 
hot-bed, in which they mmt be prema- 
turely called torth ; the other arc placed 
in n chill and blighting atmosphere, in 
which their inherent energy mutt be 
impaired, and their best teudenciet 
coimteracted. Now, it should be the 
business of the enlightened Christian 
statesman to hold this steadily in view : 
and, in devising a plan for the religious 
and intellecttjal improvement of the 
pe0|ile, to act upon the conviction, that 
there arc iaJluences at work» both in 



18S7.] 



Si/8lem of Naiional Education, 



203 



Uie slate of society, aud the nature of 
aaaii, which, if left to themselves, buve 
a teiiilcucy tu disci pliiic ujkI iu^igoruie 
hU mental power*, while they huve «« 
tendency, but the reverse^ to aid in the 
cultiviiiioti of his moral nature. And 
it shonkl be his object to provide^ by 
a system of compeiiSdtioii, for this great 
iiaturul dfBcicncy,and tu aee that that 
ktiowttdge* whicti only concerns us U3 
crealures of limie, should not b** ae- 
iiulred at the expense of ihose princU 
pica or those habils, whicli concern us 
as creature* of eteniity. 

** A^ creatures nf eternity T What 
3D absurdity ! This will br the ldn« 
guag^e of I lie poUtlctil worldling, whts* 
like Gallio* cares for none of these 
thin^r^. With him we do not ar^ue, 
because to argue with him ^YouId be 
viiiu. We leavo biui to the more sure 
coiTfCtjiin of experience ; which tniji?i, 
ill llie lung- rnn, suti^sfy the most eeep- 
tJCul, of the \vorthlessuess» and even of 
tfie mischief, m a nurely worldly point 
of view, of any system of litcmry in- 
stnietiou that is not ba^ed upon reli- 
gion. If we could even aflbrd space 
lit present to bestow a very biiif con- 
sideration on the stale of France, where 
the experiswenl of mere literary educii- 
tiou has been most fully tried, we 
mi^ht adduce ubundant evidence to 
show, that it hsis proved anytlitui^ but 
a speeilic against the prollig^acy tiud 
the criminality of the people. 

But many, who strenuously object 
Bgainst any divorce between religious 
liod iutellectual education, seeia to 
think that Ireland presents an exception 
10 the general rule, which should, in 
lost all other cases, be observed ; and 
it that mny be a crood hure, which, 
in England, or, in Scotland, &liQuld only 
be rcfrardcd us an miuiiliy:ated evil — 
The justifyiuy: difference, ihcy consider 
to be, the extent lo which popery 
spreads in this country, wliicrh must 
opfiosc, as they itua^^'^ine, an impassable 
barrier to the [iiogrress of any educa- 
tional systouif which has^ for its basi?, 
ihe everlasltng" g^ospel. Besides, they 
tmagine. as we before intimated, that 
the aduti^ston of literary must make 
way for rili^Hons instruction ; thai nriy 
li;;hl tnust he. pro taniot an cncioaeh- 
ixiciit upon the euipire of darkness; — 
Aijul iUaU when children are taught to 
Tt'ud, ihcy mojit, of necessity, be neariT 
thun thi'V were before to the oidy ??c- 
mi' js of morul and rclij^i<iiLs 

i|i Their arj^ument is» Lbiit 

alinoii'^n tiwy would not prt'fer the 
firenciil naiional sysltm to a more 



■Sat 



scriptural one, If such were to be had ; 
yet, that it is, manifestly, better than 
none tit all ; — the only tilteroHtive, as 
they contend, which remains, if it should 
be rejected^ 

Ntm-, while we admit that this is 
plausible, we contend that it is nothing 
more. It has, indeed, been refuted, 
in one of the preceding pages, by anti- 
ciptiliou. It is a great mistake to sup- 
pose that literary light must, neces- 
sarily, lead to moral habits. W^c would 
ask those geutlemen who have put 
brth such a stronn; declaration on the 
subject, in tlteir rt-cent manifesto from 
the dioeess of Derry, whether their uni' 
vcrsUif experience bus Wd ill em to any 
such coaclusiou ? That cknr convic- 
tions on the subject of our religious 
duties may, and frequently do, result 
from high eulifjhtenment, is very true ; 
but the question is — are the disposi- 
tions increased, or the temptations di- 
miiiisbed, which prevent men from 
acting on those clear convictions ? Is 
ihf^re noL a law in their meudjers, which 
will still war aguinst the law of their 
minds ? A [id is not this pronounced 
em[ihatieaUj% to be tiik contkuimt- 
tion, ** tliat light is come into the world, 
and men luved darkness rather than 
light, because their deeds are evil ?*• 

To our niinds, nothing can be more 
preposterous, than to assert, that the 
mere adiliit/ to read and write» must ne- 
cessarily exercise a wholesome influ- 
ence on the moral as well as the men- 
tal character of those who arc only 
thus far Instmcled. We must reject 
the tiuthoritaiive dei'la rations of Holy 
W^rit, if we do not believe, that there 
is much in the unconverted man, by 
which such a power must be jRTveited* 
ll miiy be very reasonably presumed, 
that men will tlo what the^ lil^e^ when no 
formidable obstacle is opposed to their 
desires ; — it cannot be reasonably pre- 
sumed that they will do what thet^ 
otightt when natural propensities iirc 
to be resisted. Therefore, we conleiul^ 
mere elementary instruction, in read- 
ing, writing, and arithmetic, cannot be 
relied on as a certain means of leading 
to higher and more \iiluable attain- 
ments ; and the fouitdation is thus, at 
once, witbdravni frum the only hypo- 
thesis, upon which the Irish national 
system can be, with any colour of 
plausibility, supported. 

But, we are told, this system does 
notcAclude religious instructitm. The 
^•krgy of the several jicrsunsions are 
fully at liberty to impart religious in- 
structiou to suck* as desire it; and 



204 



St/siem of National Education* 



CFcb, 



thi»re isi evpu H jtro vision made for 
Itliis. ill the sf((vittfiitinf> of a iiarricular 
tiMic% Nvheri Fiich reliiriuus iiisinirtion 
in;n' h(- roTivryeJ* Thpre is, l>ut tliiit 
only (irovea, thar, diiriii;; thtf hours of 
I n?it ruction, it r* iiUerdieted. V</e 
kri'iw, wrli, tliLit rbprf! is a time fur 
r fvervthi'is" ; hikI, that, miles? a certuin 
kfirtleV hp ot»servffl in the commmnca- 
Son of knnwle4ifp, hut little ettectufil 
TC!9f« ciiTi lio ejtpt^rted. But will 
Finv of>p, who i« mure than » numiiiril 
profe?^soT nf Christianity* will any sin- 
I e*?re hrHnver mil ua, that tli<»rc is onj^ 
\Mme durin-jr whii^h a cnmiuunication fit' 
[the vitrtl tnilh'* of relipon shoiilti be 
Sithsolitteltf f tr bidden f No rme can tell 
1 when nr how a youth may be prompted 
[to a^k hia t^^acher some qiie^uon^ the 
[answer to which» if rig^htly triven, 
1 9jight go Jhr to sm^t hii mquI a/ivf .^— 
) And shall a Christian insiructor be 
I placed, by a Christian state, in citcutti- 
[ftances, in which he would be competed 
[to silenee that rhild, hy telling- hirn^ 
I Ihat pofh njuttefi* must not then be 
f thon«rht of, anr! that he must defer his 
enoMiry to a more convenient season — 
I Ifk'hich more eoni^fnirnt 6easi'>n may 
I iirtwr rome ; or, if It shnnld* mny only 
iome t > brin!^ him niidnr the guidance 
of one by whom his nuiral niitnTe may 
[ he perverted ? It is no answer to 
thist to ssay, that the supposed must be 
mn unfrr-quent case. In the present 
state ofthi* enuniry, wc do not believe 
that the ca-^e w unfrcquent ; — hut that 
\ IB not the question. Are we to jujtify 
*a system in which such a case mat^ 
occur ; where a echool master must be 
eonip'dled to hanlk 'he monit appetite 
of a child, and to refer him for in*^t ruc- 
tion, In the mo*'t !mp'>rtant euneern 
ttbuut which he can be aolieitmis, t[> one 
vhn mtiy only " darken coun**el by 
tiords wirhont knowledire ?" ("fin th/it 
•vstem bp a eond one which i hn§ rr- 
quirei of any teacher to withhohl the 
nread of life from one who may then, 
for the first time, be'riu tn hunger ami 
thirst aPter ri«;'hteou*»ness ? — nay more, 
which ahsobitelr make* it a matter of 
obfigpition upon him, in^itead rd' poirit- 
ingr out to the eas'er entjuirer after re- 
Hp-iou*? truth, the only acceptaf»!e way 
of salvation, the new and the liviinf 
^ay which Chrisit hath established with 
Is' blood, to turn over his interesting 
pupii to one, by whom» if he be M at 
Wl, he will be Fed upon the hnsks of 
perverted floctrtne^ and whf» will hew 
out for him cisternfl which hold no 
M ater V 

Let us not be mieunderstood, or 



miBrcpreaented» as thnni^b we wished 
to convert our j^ehoo I master^ intn the- 
ologians. No sueh thioL'. Th^^ir prin- 
eipid duty must be of a diifer»*nt kuid. 
But, cufies will frequently occur in 
which to fiffbui them to Mive ani^ light 
or amf guiiiance to a human bein^, 
solicitous for relii^ious knowledjre, 
must be ffj compel them to sin ag^itut 
God, And we ask the Chrututn sup- 
porters of the present Irish educafittn 
gcheme, is tfmt a condition in which 
they wouhl have any human creature 
placed ? Or, ought a' system, requiriii|r 
such a s;)cri6ce of principle, have any 
Chmtinn supporters ? 

We will be told that moral and reli- 
gions instruction is not withheld during 
the hoUfP of school ; tor that a hf*ok of 
ejetnff'ls bus been prepared, contLiinini^ 
ahnost all that is intereslintf or valu- 
able in the Gospels, •* A b4»ok nf ex- 
tracts ?' That can be no substitute 
for the Holy Scriptures. It may be 
truly said, that, in the communinitioti 
of religious trufhj I he mnnner in which 
it is conveyed is almost as importaac 
as the matter ; and the ** rrcerpta" 
fro'o the divine word, bv which its 
pi lee is souirht to he supplied, is al- 
mo«u as little calculated to convey an 
adequate idea of the beauties which 
adorn and render it attractive, as the 
perisiiin^ flowers, which are rudely 
plucked from their nntive bed, are, of 
the beauties of a nutnnd ^jrden. 
Those who are dependent upon such 
a book for instrurtion, may read, in- 
deed, the sayiuiTS of our Lord, just 9M 
they may roaii the saying^s of a S<v 
crates or a Plato ; but they can hold 
DO livings converse with him ** who 
spake as never man spake;" and, what- 
ever may i>e the weii^bt which they 
are disposed to aekiiowJedjire in hii 
wordsj the purifyin{6r and vitalizing in- 
fluences, which bclontr to i!ie Iran- 
scendant and heaveidy character of 
the man-God, must be wanting. Now 
thif* it is that constitutes the very at- 
mosphere of Cbrislianity ;— the very 
air, without which we can neither live, 
nor move, nor have any spiritual belnf^f. 
When the sacred context of holy writ 
i« torn, as it were, live asunder, an es- 
sence evaporates which deprives it of 
more than half its power; and the 
verv most th^t can he accomplished 
wilt be, the construction of a speciout 
morality out of the mouldering- ele- 
ments of defunct religrion. No wonder 
that inHdels and Socinians should re- 
joice in a project which must so pow- 
erfully subiscrve their fdvuuriie syi* 



1 



I 
I 

I 

1 

I 



1837.J 



Sifstem of Xationai Education. 



205 



Ipttis! Rul fv^ do not wi*h to brin^ 
onr littlp (*Jnl<1rrfi to admire the Matue 
of a *li' id Christ, but tn listen to the 
cn»vers<* nf ^ livitig SavioMr. Jt is 
thus nlonr, aiwe helirvp, that Hiry can 
bf> thoroughU' pursHed. It istlmsMhmc 
thai we can exptrt thnn to recnive 
the spirit of grace and of adoption. 
Oh! there is n pnwer in incarnate 
Gon*heud, to di*i orliraK and tn rni'ip, 
■nd to re^ent'mte t!te mind, which it 
does not enter into the im:igi nation of 
the m«?rf'ly carnal man to conceive! 
There \% something' iu the august hu- 
tnilitv, tlie nustere heniguity, the un- 
eoni;»romiRiTig gentleness, the lolly low- 
Jme^s of the Siiviujir, a^ he i^* [ire^ieutcd 
to IIS hv the inspired cvantyelir^t^, in 
his passiige through the valley of the 
shutiuM' of <lc«alv, for which no ptihsli- 
tute ran he fnuiid in :inj mutilated tVapr- 
ment^ of his hi.-ito-y ; and timse who 
imagine that any ,ifleqnatp provision 
U made for the spiritual well-bein^* of 
the ynuthful ireueratinn, in the bor^k of 
citracts vthich it has suited the views 
nf the Educittion Board to suhstuute 
for the sacred volume, mii?t not only 
be themseUt s, either ign rdnt of, or 
indifferent about, the power of true 
relij^ion, but miserahly unac<[uainted 
mith the only etfectual mode of bring- 
ing it home, savingly, to the hearts of 
Chrigtisms. 

Still, wc will be told, that leligion ie 
a conc'Tn with which the slate has 
nothing to do ; and that we should 
Ciircfullv eschrw the teaching of any 
particufir creed, in any project r)f 

nattonul education "That the slrtte 

ha* nothing to do with religion!" 
Huve we afjurcd our ChrisLianity ? 
Is it a fahle. that Chrisfs divine Fcli- 
giou eon^iitutes piirt of the common 
Jaw of the land •:' Is this ;in autiqualed 
prejudice, whieli it becomes us to g*t 
rid of, as we value the repute of mi>dern 
iUuniiimtion ? So thonjrlit not the 
great and the wise of <dd j the illus- 
Iriou-i foundtra i>f our nof)le consti- 
tuthin ; who were not astiamed to lay 
lis foundations deeply and strongly in 
a reeoin»ition of those sacred truths 
whieh Goii in htR goodness and his 
mercy has revealed, aud without a 
kfUl%^iedgc of which, society itnelf 
couUI not subsist, for any nohlc or f tr 
any useful pnrj» jse. Therefore it was^ 
that the religious well-being of the 
Cii mm unity was always connected in 
ibcir minds, with every plan of tempo- 
ral improvement ^ and tliat the church 
wu, atf it were, married to the litate, 



and ordained to be a belp-mect for it, 
in the discharge of its various and 
complieaied duties, in this troubloui 
and agitated world. There was thus 
a grace and a gU^ry shed upon the 
fabric of huinan fiociety, in the liirht of 
which it mi^'ht well rejoice. Man was 
contemplated, from bis birih, by the 
civil governor, as a creature de^^tined 
to immortality ; and suciety stood 
piediied, by the very princtples upon 
which it was constittUtd, to see that a 
due provision was made, for the in- 
structi'iu and the eoiiHirnation in righ- 
teou«inesSj of ev«'ry creature htiving an 
immortal soul, AccordingJy, tiie cler^ry 
were the recognised guardians and pro- 
moters of national education ; and no 
one conceived the jmssibilily of teoeli- 
ing the rising generation their duty 
towards their neigbbuur, without laying 
the foundation td" it in I heir dutv to- 
wards God. Instead of resoFving 
religion into morality, it was their 
object to derive morality fri»m religion. 
But our modern education mongers 
"have changed all that.^ The church 
ia no longer to be a hdp-meet for the 
state. Religion is no longer to be 
*' the one thing needfLil.'* Men are 
now to be brought up wiibotit any 
definite religious impressions, except, 
indeed, that Chrisiianity lit a sort of com- 
monage, and that it wouhl be unjust 
and iilibtTal, to murk, with any peculiar 
preference, any one cl.tss above any 
other of protesting Thristians, 

Indeed, it Mould be more finr and 
open in the advocates of the lri?4h 
education Sfheme, to begin bv attack ini^ 
the connection between church and 
state, than by abrogiiimg the dniieN 
and nullifying the privilegi^a of the 
established clergy. \Vbi!e the one 
etibtJJstB, the others should le rerosj- 
nised as suhsisting abo. But to fihA 
from the church its preiogjtives, while 
the naiuf of a state conio-ttion is suf- 
fered to remain, is, at once, to dt -grade 
it J and to deceive I he people* It U to 
cheat unsuspecting Chrisiianii wi(h the 
mockery ot an unreal pageant, when 
the power and the influence which it 
once possessed, to rebuke spiritual 
wickerlncFS in high places, h^s been 
taken away ; wJien the high and the 
hononnihJe oliiance, by which it once 
was dignified, has been degraded to a 
species of concubinage ; and its exist- 
ence ip only perceived in the scoffs 
and tite tanntings of its enemies. 

But, njay we not safely recognize 
the principle, that religions education 



S06 



System of National Edticathfi* 



belongs peculiarly to the parents of 
[the several chiltlrcn who frequent our 
I national echonU ; uiid thLil^ pruvid<?d 
fiht^ir wishe?, in that respects he cotn- 
I plied with, the fitate will huvc done Us 
louty. This is a view of the subject 
Which has ktely Ijeeu pat furward by 
€orae few of the Irish clerary, as a 
means of reconciliii:^ the remainder of 
their body to the Education Board, 
and securing, for the betiffit of Pro- 
testant children, if not a portion of the 
' national ^^rant, ut least some partiri- 

Imtinn in its advantages* Comingf 
rom the <j(U!rter it dues, such a pro- 
fposal h entitled to respect j and 
[^e will bestow upon it as calm and 
dispaiisionatc a conssideration, as its 
pcctcd pnipounders can reqnirc. 
In the first [dace, does not the stale 
iischarifc its whole duty, when it 
Iregnlates the Telig;iou3 bringing up of 
child ren> acc^rdiu^ to the wishes of 
[their respective parents? It does ncrt. 
I If (7 be bound to promote Christianity, 
I when it suffers itself to be thus re* 
|«trictcd, it ciiher forgets or abandons 
ilhe most important part of its Christian 
I duty. It raistiikes ne^^ligence for libe- 
fHilityT ^t*<^ indifference for toleration. 
1 But, are not parents to have a comei- 
Y^nce ; and, is not thiit conscjcuce to be 
[tcspcctcd ? h\» ; but the If are aha to 
ITCspcct the cmiscwnce of the state* A 
IChristian legislature ?bou!d, in its wis- 
Idom, devise a plan of national iustruc- 
Ition, which in their judgment, mtsy be 
ibest calculated to promote the know- 
iJedge and tlie practice ol' our divine 
|Jt*ligion. Many who dissent from the 
national creed, cannot, probably, go 
the w hole way along with them, m the 
principles upon which this national 
system is to be constructed ; and tliey 
are, accordingly, at perfect libeity to 
establish, for themselves^ any other 
ystem, by which their own pcculiiir 
rinews may be best proniotea. We 
I Would secure to them their indisput- 
able privilege to think and to act fur 
themselves ; and, having done so, 
they can require no more ; thef/ cannot 
claim it an a privilege that the Riate shall 
twl take the best means in its powcr^/or 
promoting the Moral and religious well- 
bcirtff of its mcfnbers. 

To admit such a claim» would be to 
banish nutional Christianity, If one 
sect may prefer it, every other may 
prefer it also ; and thui?» virlty after 
verily of the Christian schemo, w^onld, 
one by one, be blotted out, until reli- 
gion itself was totally cxlingnlshed. 



[Feb. I 

lolic to I 

lich is ■ 

er than 1 



The claim of the Roman Cutholic to 
■ that sort of consideration which is 
now contended for, is not better than 
the claims of the Quaker, the Inde- 
pendent, the Arian, or the Socitiian ; 
and, to admit flnch claims to the extent 
required, woidd be to make their into- 
lerance the regulator of our libemlity. 
instead of making our own liberaruy 
the regulator of our toleration. It 
would, in fact, carry indulgence tiK 
wards others to an extent that would 
amount to intolerance towards our- 
selves* That would be liberality with 
a vengeance ! 

The respected gentlemen who have 
put themselves forward in this business 
nave, in truth, mistaken the real ques- 
tion, There can be no doubt that 
every parent in this country possesses 
the right of bringing up his children 
in what he conceives to be the right 
way. With thfil right the state inter- 
feres not. But when he nrges it be* 
yond the most perfect liberty to pro- 
fess, ond to practise his own mode of 
religious behef, and requirrt that the 
ttate shall teach no other t he claims, we 
humbly think, what is not warranted 
by either reason or Scrijiiure ; and 
what cannot be conceded without a 
compromise of Chris titUi truth, and an 
invasion of Christian liberty* 

" But are not the scnipfes of our 
erring brethren to be respected ?** 
They are, as ^cruplct ; hot lliey are not 
to be tnude the Jhitnd^itioji of daimst 
which, tirged to their full extent, mtisl 
lead to a severance of the connection 
between Church and State, and to the' 
disuse of any piddic or authoritative 
inculcation ot the national religion. 

The leading idea by which our 
friends in Derrv seem to be deludedt 
is, thnt by abamloning nil peculiar care 
of religious, they will obtain some in- 
defincable control over general edti- 
cation ; and tbcit the schools at present 
under the exclusive supervision dl 
Roman Catholics, will be brought un- 
der their inliuence in such a way UR, 
that, even though they should not do 
them niuch good, they may prevent 
them from doing the slate much evil. 
This appears to us to be a chimerical 
expectation. In any such partnershiji as 
they propose to themselves, the greater 
must always predominate over the less ; 
and instead of their exercising a salu- 
tary influence over the benighted ma- 
jority, the benighted majority, and Uieir 
nptrituat rulers, would exercise a most 



PS^ 



system of National Education. 



207 




p<*rnicioufl influence o?eT them.* In 
abandoning Iheir boynden dotv of 
t&king care of their own, unJ lioldinjyr 
up (o the comtuunUy iit brge a model 
of naUoiial educiilion,sueh as theydcem 
beat and wisest, for the purpose of 
aiming nt uri autlionty which they 
ttever will be permitted to ejtercise — 
they are vfttching at the shaJow, tvhilc 
loxe the substance* We could 
illy conceive (if our respect for the 
s of this scheme did not forbicl 
position) such advice ^Mven to 
^some Talleyrand in CLUionicals, 
who has his own ends to servc» and 
who, in exhorting- them to ciist tlicni* 
selves down from the pinnacle of the 
temple, may tell tliein that, iu so du\w^^ 
they will only more conspicuously 
commend themselves to the favour t>f 
God, ** Get thee behind me, Satan," 
IS ibc only auswex which he should re- 
ceive from faithful men, who are re- 
solved to ttbidc by the '* rock, of ages/' 
and to rely tipon the divine protection 
in the perlormance of their uuty» how- 
ever painful or dirticult it may be, 
rather than deviate, in the Icastp from 
the strict line of duty, from a p re- 



sum ptyo us hope thiit they may, in such 
wise, more efi'ectiially obtain the divine 
protection. 

We ure very desirous of dealing- ten- 
derly witli the irentlemcFi from whom 
thiasugg^eslinn has proceeded ; because 
we are willing: to believe ih;it they 
were solely aetiujted by a desire to 
heal division!", and were tnuJer the firm 

fjcrsua^ion that, upon the wljole^ re- 
igion Would bt; benefitted by their pro- 
ject» But WL' most tell llietn that their 
proposal was very ill-litiied, and tliut 
there never probubly was j time when 
it was less expedite nt. The Irish clerg-y 
amidst all their privution^, were earn- 
ing undying repuUtion for themselves, 
by the steadiness with ulueh the anti- 
Chnstian Cilueation project continued 
to he n.'sisted* In England and Scot- 
land the peojile were beginniog- to open 
their eyes to the monstrous wickedness 
of sueh a project, k had lost some of 
its most ardent supporters. Kvery 
one begun to see clearly that it must 
throw the whole cilucation of the Pro- 
testants of Ireland into the hamU of 
the priests. And the didelosure^s which 
took plac€ upon the intimidation com- 



• The following w© extract from a very able essay entitled* ** Thauylits on the 
Elements of Civil Governraiint," which we regret exceedingly that our space docs 
nol permit us to notice at present ns it deaervea. Speak inyr of an jittempt at the 
itoit^d education of Homati Cfitholics and Protestants, vpon the principle adopted hy 
t(i<; Niilional Boards the writer oLserves: — 

" The attempt will liiil, liecauae, although the Proteatimt prejudice agiiinit the plan 
did not cxi*t to obstruct tlitf success of the experiment by an absolute abandonment 
of it, I here are causea which would aecL'S&Jirily and elTiictually render the project of 
uuiUti education ot both clnsses abortive. First, the overpoweiiug superiority in 
numbt:r« of the Roman CHtholk cliildri'n in all the srhools, and in whom nn hatred of 
Ibe name of Protcitimt is coevEd with their lirst perceptiuUB ; an lintrLnl which would 
Dot certainly he raitigaled by the presence of a fioplsli schoolmaf^ter, nod perhaps a 
popish priest; in this united system, t/iis woul<l almost inevitably make thrse schoolss 
mtlier arenas for personal conflicts thmi peaceful scats of literary or religious instruc- 
^OQ. Next to this, another cause not less powerful wuuld opemto agjunst tlieir 
plan — it is this; that however zealous the Protestant clur^'^y might be in attendini^ to 
the rcligioni instruction of the Proteslunt children, they would necessarily constitute 
a very small minority compared with the nurrtburs of the Popish clergy, who in the 
ease supposed would perpetwally hover round the schools \n Ihi* tnm spirit of tlieolo- 
jjfical hairedf and probably, if we may judj^c from the tone of Bisbtp J\l*Hfde, and the 
Popish press towards the insiulted clerjiry of tho Pri)ti'>t;int Ctmrch, would diiipiay nn 
Insolent arro|:ance, su^fgested and supported by the L'on>ciouijneas of a surrounding and 
retUtless physical force, that woubl quickly comp(d the Prolestntil clere-y to abandon 
this nneipiid contest. How various indeed, tmd nnmeroufi, nre the to[)ics which would 
houHy furnish matter for invective ant] exasperation of foeliug between those two 
chutes ^f priests, if, in every such srhool, they were to nicct diiily? what sources of 
▼iruletit ttbuse from a rancorous press agninst the Protestant idergy already viliHed 
with suck pi'ffect impunity! Surely they need not be brought to the rccollectiou of 
tuy man whose eyes and ears are not closed agfidnst all that djidy events, and the 
scandalous and icurrilous filth of the daily pres?» obtrude upon his observation, it is 
IMuredly in the highest dog^ree absurd, to hope tlmt tlio clergy of those two opposing 
and convicting sects could meet in the same places and for reli^ous purposes, and 
tmroonded by the respective disciples of those sectSj -without violations of public 
peace and Christian decorum, which never cotild Ue tolerated." 



208 



Si/stem qfNati€nal Educatum^ 



[Feb. 



mittf^e in the House of Co m in on s, re- 
rfpetlin^ the iDunner in which the 
. spirit uai infinenccs uf that body of men 
hiifl been abused, were quite sufficieTit 
to cooviiiue all. who are ojien to con- 
viction* that to abaiidou the i^ducdtktn 
ot the pfO|jie lu tbieir influence, would 
he to lake the most i-ffectuuJ means 
for the Severance of Briti*ii cuuueclio*!. 
Thi» stilutiiry per^uaslon^ we repeat it, 
was ritiridly opoo i\w increase. In niiiiiy 
I |)luce^ the Lun^tituenciea iinprepseU 
Ifipoti thrirrt:pre»»in.iiivtjsthe necessity 
Vci imposing «oine cht;ck opya ihe pro- 
Ijgress of Rc»inibh ambit iuii. Yariuuii 
|a8«ociatliiits started up, and are, this 
Iniomeiii, in active opeiutioiu having iVtr 
llheir object the deletion und expusure 
I of the various expedients ^ind £nbter« 
!fii(fe», untl dii'g'tiiies, by wliich the 
[{rrasplu^ atid douiinuut character of 
[ pofiery was nianifet^ted^ even wiien it 
1 Was kitt^nipted to be conct^aled. The 
ledncatiuK project J n partirubr, seemed 
(likely to i^e subjected to a seareh- 
[InM" eiatninaiion, 'Oie speech of the 
Bisiiop of Exeter diirin;^ rho last 
I f«*saioii» prr>diit!fd a (if rent elfcCL 
"* Miiny n«»blenien opj»osed to him in 
I politics, were eouviiici.'d ihtit a wystc-m 
I chargeuiile with the ymve abic^es whirfi 
I fce so powerfully detailrnh v\a9 ni»t ciil- 
[ culatcd Lc> produce any otiier ih.kn a 
! most yiihapfiy efl't*ct upuo ine characttT 
of the Irish people. ThiH, hU thing-j 
were workinjc loKPtiit^r far ^ood Light 
was every tlay breakiug in upon the 
leiifr^latitre, l»y wliicli, gooner or luicr, 
thry uiUf^t be thoroughly t-nli^lilened ; 
and a little more of steady pfi>evcrdncc 
on the part of (he Irish cler^^y, in thdr 
opposition to H system whirh euuld be 
only fruitful of deniurjlistiii'iu and 
sedirioo. seeoird all thiit ^ii'^ M^cr^giiry 
to prudticc ihit sab»*ary n^rlntti in 
public opinioo, from which Ujioii tiiat 
particular sulij* ct, the rnoat di>irablc 
results ini^lit he txic'ctcd. Is it not, 
therefore, to be liiMii-nt*^! ib;<t the apple 
of diiicord tihi uld be ihrowri HUion|rst 
tlie Irish chr^^y, just then when unani- 
mily vias nrost to he desired, and that 
a ficrnicion!! pnjeci nf deceptive 
lihcralily sht*nhl receive the sdnelion 
of respected naniCM, jirst ihcn when the 
weak, and the wavrring« und the c«»r- 
rupt, were desirous of some excuse for 
retreat ing* Irom a pusirion, wliich chey 
htid felt themselves chilled upon to 
occupy, as chnrcionen and as f'hristian^. 
And here we wuuld have cutirlndcd, 
hi«ii not a new dmiomenl mudp its ap- 
pearsnce, which exhibits, under a new 
and a more ^umjucious phase, the euu- 



duct, of aotne of otir brethren to the 
north of Ireland. We were led 
to believe, from the fint mamfetto pat 
forward with so much apparent modesty 
by the D^^rry committee, that, if the 
clergy in general throughout Ireland 
disstntcd it urn it, it would be with- 
drawn. NiT were ive >iii^ti1ur in *»uf 
oijinion. That able j^per, tite Dublin 
Record, has ^iven expreaaiioo to i 
similar persuasion : 

** Any one reading their official docti- 
meat mu»l have itna^ned ihut thi^y bid 
Dot the remotest idea af actings an isulated 
pHrt in tht) traniHClion, bul thai ihtj 
would hnvti deferred to the opioion of 
ilii*ir rlet^cal brethren, as fton hi tkal 
opinion should have been nbtiuncd/* 

Well— that opinion has beet) ob* 
taiued, and it is decidedly against the 
Derry propo*ial. Tlie ch rg^y of Ire- 
liiod, amid all thi'ir sudenngs, have 
nobly vindicated themselves fruin the 
suspiciun of alhirdiug any countenance, 
dirtct or indirect, to a propoaStiou 
which woidd liave made ihcm con- 
54^'nting parties to a niL^asnn' which 
would have handed over the edu- 
cation of the population of IreUnd 
to the Most U**v. Peter IX as Mumiy» 
and hi.^ p^ipi^ili, and iuBdel, and lull- 
litdiuuriau culletigues. But our Dcrry 
brethren are ntjt only not convinced 
by whkit has hcen done, of the ines- 
pediency of their propi^sal, and of tl»c 
mitfcbirf of* at the present momcnf, 
Sirnin^^ diviriion'* aiiiun^^t the clergy, 
but thi'y have issued kinotlur mantftstOt 
reiterating their proposition, and treat- 
ing wiih the ukost contempt iiout in- 
difference the almo^t univemaJ di^ent 
from it of the rest td"thi-ir breihreu In 
Ireland. When it was doubtful how 
it would be received, tSi« y v^ere modest 
and huttible ; when that is no longer 
<loubtful, they arc coiifiilent and pmud, 
and seemingly v^iltin^', thein»clves 
alone, to take their aumd beside the 
Edocaiion Board, and Lo aid in giving 
periijiinence lo a system, which, we 
euuhitcntly juoituunce, is the gicatcsl 
c(irsc> thiit bus ever been indicted upoo 
the country. 

Bii» ii the arrogance of these jrentle* 
meki has surprised us, their ig^Morance 
has snrpri»i d us suil more. It seiMiis 
toat it is only very recently thai ihcy 
have been led to $u]ipo«e that there 
were any who su^neetetl ilmt education, 
divurec'd Iroui religions ihs^t ruction, was 
all evil rather ttian a good- This dis- 
[)Uys a want of refleetion, a want of 
tutor mation, or a want of boiie»ty, 
gretitly to be dcphired, in a body of 



1B37-] 



Syskm of National Education* 



209 



en undertaking to be the guides and 
> instructors afliieirclericul brethreo, 
bd which causes iu us tee lings more 
jvowerful thon astonishment, rroiii the 
re*pect which we hirhcrto entertained 
fur some amcuigst thos^e wIki arc sub- 
wjribers to the Derry resnlutiona. As 
therefore, we do not wish to ii|>|»ctiT 
to fttaud alone upon a question oti^ucti 
vital importance, wc will sybjoio, from 
the tirat cotemjiorary pnbUcatinns 
which are at hund, an extract or 
two, which rnay serve to shew that we 
are not singular in the notions ^^hich 
we have fiut forward in ttie prece<nng 
pages, and that, to cultivate the intellect 
while the morals arc neglected, (and 
neglected ihey mast be in any system 
which precludes a ijyecijic mode of 
Christian instruction,) is but to enlarge 
the sphere of human depravity, and 
accumulate the incentives which 
t«iid to the perversion of our ntitnre. 
The Church of EnglanrI Quarterly Re- 
"view for January! 18^17, ha^ the follow- 
ing pasfi9ge : 

** We are assured by Plato^ that if a 
man he otdy half educated, hd h the 
wildcsti the moat ititraclabk of all earthly 
aouiinls, 

« This i» a truth of all time, but one 
which takes an empbosia from tin? dan- 
gers peculiar to an advanced stage of 
civiUintioD. 

•» Now the knowledge of tbu obliquities 
of this wide and dangerous world, whbh 
spritigs up in the rank soil of the heart 
like weeds oa a Deglccted tomb, is pre- 
diely that hdf education which the [jhito- 
iopher nllnites to, and deprticnte*!; and 
miich can only he uprooted and rendered 
by inculcating, ou the rising 
«niiion subjected to onr controb 

rAGOl^lST IMfRESBIONB OF RELIGION, 

Avo raiNcrpLKS of practical wisoom. 
Thus there will be substituted, in ibe 
place of that disci>Dtent, which in after 
years too otten corrodes ibtir moral nod 
social feeliojiis, « cheerful acquiescence in 
that graduated order of tbings, on the 
lowest round of which it hath pktised 
Providence to place them. So only will 
they di^eorer what arc the objects of the 
understanding, and stoop to the first prin- 
ciples of wisdom ; so only wdll they come 
to fech in common with the wisest nnd 
the litighlest meu who ever crossed 
tht< threshold of eternity, that, ' tlie fear 
of tlie Lord is the begiuning of wisdom ; 
and to de|Htrt from evil, that is undtir- 
fttauding/ '' 

[■This ii surely a >iew of the matter 
Mich ts eutUted to a re)»pectful con- 
»idcration» and which the authois of 
Vou IX. 



the Derry manifesto would have done 
well to digest, before they gave utter- 
ance to their fli]*pant and sneering al- 
ii wi on to the weak jicrsona who could 
for a ntionaent doubt that any thing bnt 
good, or at least predominant good^ 
miist he the rtsult of mere literary edu- 
cation. The fallowing pasiiage from 
our al"!e contemporary, l^bickwood, of 
the last month, (our renders will bold 
in uiindp that it h our object in making 
tbcse citations, not merely to confirm 
our view^, but to corroborate our au- 
tbority,) is still further illustrative of 
the prdctieal eftects of permitting a 
Bpirituully unenl lightened population to 
]mrtake of tbtj fruit of the tree of the 
knowledge of good and evil. 

** In France, we need not now tell cur 
readers, an i^xperiment has been made on 
a greiit scale, for the lust bnlf century, of 
extending, aa fur as possible » intellcctunl 
cultivation, and at the same time depress- 
ing religion, ao as to render it« in nil but 
the rurnl parisbes,, practically speaking, 
a mere euEeeblcd rt!!lic of tbe oUeu time. 
Now, attend to the result of this great 
experiment upon tbe growth of crime, 
and the progress of human depravity, as 
evinciHl in the accurate and elaborate 
statistical tables of M, Guerry, a liberal 
writer, enamoured of popular education 
and democmtic institutions, and who is, 
in consequence, utterly bewildered by tbo 
result of the returns wbicb be himself btis 
digested in bo luminous nn order. Tho 
result is thus given tu his own words, 
wliidi have been quoteJ with groat can- 
dour by Mr. Bulwer, in bis France, or 
the monnri'by of the middle classes, 
* While crimes against person are most 
frequent in Corsica, the provinces of tbn 
south-east, and Alsace, where the people 
are well instructed, there are the fewest 
of those crimes in Berry, Limousin, and 
Britanny, wbere the people are the most 
ittnoranL And as for crimes against pro- 
perty, it is almost invariably those de- 
partments ibnt are the btst infortntd tbiit 
are the moni crimitial — a fact which, if 
the tables be not tiltogetber wrong, must 
sliow this tu be certain, that if itisti uctiou 
do ijnt inrrease crime, which may be a 
matter of dispute, there is no reasuQ lo 
believe that it dimtui^hcs it/ 

•'^ Tn illustrate liiis important stati^^ti- 
cal truth, M. Guerry bsis prepured maps 
of all the ci^hty-iiix depitrltnents of 
Fnmce, from whicb it distinctly appears, 
that wherever the number uf educated 
persons is greatest, there crime is most 
frequent, and that wherever it is least, 
crime is most nire, and without any re- 
gard to density of population, the pre- 
valence of nmnufacCures, or almost any 

V 



210 



System of Sntiomd luiHcatian, 



lTe% 



other cntiftC. Tlie tables on whic*K thes<» 
miip« arm foiiiidt''t1r Jniwti from Uie lal^o- 
rioua retuii}^ wbicli the Freiich (H^overn- 
ment hni^ obtained frum nil the dt^part> 
fneitts of their empire, are fto important^ 
nml MO utter Itf fatal to the wholt: school ^f 
intellectual cultivation^ Unit we make no 
ii|i*ilu|fy for tnin&cnbing them in a note 
lor the iotormation o\ our readers." 
(ThfUi IS a note nppended to this passage 
5t(iUnt,% that Uie editor bas been obltgtid 
tn leave out the tables — an omi&sioti 
whicb^ coiiaidering their critiini iimpor- 
lance at the prescMit crUis in so widely 
.•xtendtid a work us BbckwtXHrH Ma^a- 
rlfme, U exceodinglj to be de|4ored.) 
i* With InUb dtJtiJi like liW^rnl but candid 
Mr* Buhver add, * Mr. Guerry bowls 
down at otuv all the nine pins with 
which Jate statiiiticnl writers hsivt; heen 
juausin^ theiTitsiilves, ami fr^tnVi nvtM up 
mtmtf of the old nutiuHi, which from tliojr 
very aiitiquityi were out ol voguu.*"* 

NoOiifiyr but vTant tif space |irevctits 
ha frtiiii tTilurLfUiur, by rofertujces to 
pAiiiLricLi, auci to other cobnlrks, the 
proof, that miac'hii f, rriiher ihiiii bpiiefit» 
IS to be uxpected tVma any sy-item of 
litoniry in si ruction, in which nnm's 
moral nature is nesj:leeted. The Derry 
|2:ontleinen niako u general allysiuii to 
iHinntries under a despotic form uf 
go%eriii«ciil, as proving the ccmverise 
of the proposition for wtiieh we con- 
tend ; but they luhliic*! no details in 
corroboriiiioii o\^ thrir views ; and even 
if they did* tliey eonld prove noihiiijj 
to the [Hiqitise- — bec^riuse the experi- 
ment eould not he fairly tried in des- 
potic eounlries, where external cnn- 
«fr;iiiit iwAY often compe^nsatc the? de* 
ficieney of internal jirincTpte, and where 
mm may be compel led to ccu«C lo do 
evi), althoiiirb they wonbl not of them- 
selves have been iTicliued to rlo wclb 

That 11 ^reat ileal of instrrictiun, not 
tcTifling to any useful end, is nt present 
afforded in the country, U most true, 
and true U is, tliat we cannot prevent it. 
But we in ly, at least, avoid U'tng rC' 
imuMf forii; wnd its very extHeiice 
s the very reason why we should be 
nore thiin iisu dly energetic in setting 
Ibrth the adv;^ulJ^;^es td'that more coin- 
pb U* system of instruction which it is 
onr privilege to know and to Tidue in 
siieh a way u* tujv best exliibit our de- 
cided opinion ol^ its superior advan- 
U^'es. 

What, then, would we have the 
friends of the best tntere^ls of Irolafid 
tt) do, in the present criticid emergency ? 
We think there is but one safe course, 
uid tlioit we have cle^ifly tndic;ited in 



the prce©tling pages. They should 
fall back upon " The A&sociiition for Di»* 
conntenaneing Vic^** They shodd 
make thai, and not the KilcWre^pbee 
syjiteni their Torrct Vvdrat in the ftp* 
jiroaching contest. The truth i«, thut 
infinite miBchief has arisen from the 
folly (so epidemic among^st even ex- 
cellent people of late years,) of cofwing 
the people to be instructed. The 
same sort of solicitaiion fcms been f rrt- 
ployed by benevolent men, to induce 
theln to sutfer their childreii to attend 
the ViirJou* sehooJs which Christian 
zeal has estcddished in the eountrVi that 
is, hud recourse lo by those ^ho are 
c:indidfttes for their votes at contestetl 
elections. And the consecjuence has 
been, that they have licen !e«l lo as- 
cribe the same kind of interested 
motives to exertions of the one kimt 
as might very fairly be attributed to 
exertions of* the other. This has 
caused a prejudice ngaimt the very 
thing which they were d<?siro!is of re* 
commending ; and any desire of edu- 
cation which might have l>een awakeued 
amnngst the people, has been accom- 
panied by ji suspicion of the instrumtiu- 
iLility l)y which it is sought to be dif- 
fused. This su9|iicion is, of course, 
not discouiilenaneed by the Itomish 
clergy ; itnd tlius, superstition comes in 
to aid their dtstruiit, and many of th<; 
poor people are led to believe, th^t, 
to consent to receive instruction upon 
the terms upon which it mi^^ht be ira- 
parted to them in many of our i^cliooK 
wouhi be little *hort of tbi» ifoiK of 
selling their son Is to the arch cncnty. 
Now, it is our pers»rns<ion, that any 
vlatvnt assault upon a ]i re possession 
like this, woidfi only, for the prenenl, 
aggravate the evil. It Is an iniprcs^ion 
wliich can onlv be removed by limi^ 
and by exhibiting, Bteadily and |ier- 
scvcringly,theadvantTige5 of the sy^flein 
which ihey are taught to regird with 
so much abhorrence. And we wpprat 
to facts for the proof, that mneh wai 
doing, and much is doing, iu liiis qulel 
and unostentatious way» to wlu ihclr 
confidence and excite their gratitude, 
and induce them to accent, with tlnmk- 
fnlness, the education tiiat has been 
provided for them by our Church of 
England AssociaiioiK They felt, thut 
it was not only given frcefy% without 
money and without price, but, thai uo 
unfair means were employed to inter- 
fere with tlieir religi^ni' ..rlnlnnsj And 
their respect for an*! t to the 

system, which thus m i m Mth 

useful knowledge, while that kuowledgt 



J 



1887,] 



System of National Education. 



211 



was onlf communicated in an atmos- 
phere medicated, as it were, by the di- 
▼ine word, increased with their experi- 
ence of its manifold advantages. 

Once only was the voice of calumny 
raised against it. Mr. 0*Connell was 
led, by some misstatement which ap- 
peared, to denounce it, as though it 
was unfaithful to its pledges, and did 
interfere with the religious principles 
of the Roman Catholic pupils, in such 
tf way as might justly excite the sus- 
picions and the hostility of the mem- 
bers of the church of Rome. The 
Association felt themselves immediately 
called upon to repel this false accusation. 
Legal proceedings were forthwith taken 
against the demagogue, who, when he 
found that his charges could not be 
sustained, had the good sense to con- 
tradict them as publicly as they were 
mad^ and consented to pay the costs 
of any proceedings whicn the Asso- 
ciation had taken, upon the under- 
standing that they would be satisfied 
with the atonement that had been 
made, and not proceed in the business 
any farther. 

This, therefore, is. the system upon 
which we would earnestly advise the 
enlightened friends of education in 
this country now to fall back ; it is 
realty the only one that can meet the 
present evils. Compromise has been 
tried long enough, and it has failed. 
Yea, it has only served to provoke and 
to increase the exorbitant and grasping 
demands of those, who will never be 
satisfied with any thing that is given, 
while any thing is withheld ; to whom, 
in &ct, concession is but an argument 
and a motive for encroachment', and 
who, indeed, argue, not unreasonably, 
that those who have, already, in their 
desire to conciliate, gone so far, have 
abandoned the only ground upon which 
they could safely stand in refusing to 
go any farther. 

We entertain no fears that the 
Derry proposal will find many ad- 
vocates amongst the spiritually en- 
lightened Protestants of Ireland. 
The clergy in general have loudly 
expressed their dissent. They will, 
as a body, never trive their con- 
sent to any system of national instruc- 
tion which does not proceed upon the 
admission of this truth, that "the fear 
of the Lofd is the beginning of wis- 



dom." They can have no reliance 
upon any wisdom which has not its be- 
ginning m the fear of the Lord. They 
know very well that mere brute in- 
telligencc may be quickened, by culture* 
into a subtlety even surpassing the 
subtlety of the serpent. But such wis- 
dom is earthly, sensual, devilish, and 
can only give additional power to the 
unmitigated depravity of our fallen 
nature. " 

Above all things, they will never 
formally abandon their poor, benighted, 
Roman Catholic fellow-countrymen, to 
the uncontrolled despotism of their 
spiritual tyrants. Let the Derry pro- 
posal be agreed to, and one important 
mnction of the Established Church be- 
comes forthwith paralysed. The clergy 
have, hitherto, held themselves ready to 
give, to every man who enquires of them, 
a reason for the faith that is in them. 
If an intelligent Roman Catholic child 
should now ask of any one who signed 
that recommendation for assistance to 
enable him to struggle out of the' 
slough of popery, he must feel bound, 
by his own principle, to refer him to 
the priest for guidance, and might be 
fairly charged with want of good 
faith, if he aided in enabling him to 
dissipate his delusion. How can he, in 
such a case, fulfil his ordination vow, 
which requires of him to be always 
ready " to banish and drive away all 
erroneous and strange doctrine, con- 
trary to God*s word?" But we will 
not suppose, even for a single mo- 
ment, tnat such a project will be 
entertained, which would confirm, 
and render almost irreversible, one of 
the most pernicious compacts ever 
entered into between a wicked or de- 
luded government, and a hood-winked 
people. What the end may be we 
know not. The issues of things arc 
not in our power. But this we well 
know, that the present is a case in 
which there is no halting between two 
opinions ; in which it may be truly 
said, all those who are not for scrip- 
tural instruction, are against it ; and 
respecting which every Protestant, 
who values sound doctrine or religious 
liberty, should say, from his inmost 
soul, away with it — it has the mark of 
the beast upon it — "as for me and my 
house we will serve the Lord." 



212 



Fardorougha, tne Miser: or 



[Feb. 



FARDOROLGHA, THE MISER : OR, THE CONVICTS OF LISNAMONA. 

BY WILUAM CARLBTON, 

Author of ** Tiaits and Storicf of the Irish Ftenuitry.** 



. It wus on one of those nights in Au- 
gust, when the moon and stars shine 
throu&ch an atmosjihcre ch^ar and 
cloudless, with a mildness of lustre 
almost continental, that a horseman, 
advancing at a rapid pace, turned off a 
.remote branch of road up a narrow 
lane, and, dismounting? before a neat 
whitewashed cottage, gave a quick and 
.impatient knock at the door. Almost 
instantly, out of a small window that 
opened on hinges, was protruded a 
broad femulc face, surrounded, by way 
of nightcap, witli several folds of flan- 
nel, that hdd originally been white. 

" Is Mary Moan at home ?** said the 
■ horseman. 

" For a maricle — ay !" replied the 
female ; " who's duiuii in the name o' 
goodness V 

" Why, thin, I'm thinkin* you'll be 
smiliu' whin you hear it," replied the 
messenger. The sorra one else than 
Honor Donovan, thaf snow marrid up- 
on Fardorougha Donovan to the tunc 
of thirteen years. Be dad, time for her, 
any how — but, sure it 'ill be good whin 
it comes, we're thinkin*." 

" Well, betther late than never — the 
Lord be praised for all his gifls, any 
how. Put your horse down to the 
mountin' stone, and I'll be wid you in 
half a jiffy, acushla." 

She immediately drew in her head, 
and ere the messenger had well placed 
his horse at the aforesaid stirrup, or 
mounting stoue, which is aii indispen- 
sible adjunct to the midwife's cottage, 
she issued out, cloaked and bonneted ; 
for, in point of fact, her practice was 
80 extensive, and the demands upon 
her attendance so incessant, that she 
seldom, if ever, slept, or went to bed, 
unless partially dressed. And such 
was her habit of vigilance, that she 
ultimately became an illui^trationof the 
old Roman proverb, Xon dormio omni' 
bus ; that is to say, she could sleep as 
sounil as a top to every possible noise 
except a knock at the door, to which 
she might be said, during the greater 
nait of h«:r prll^(\s^ional life, to have 
been in».tinctively awake. 

Having asoendtvl the mounting- 
stone, and placed ht^rself on the crup- 
per, the guide an. I she, while passing 
down the narrow and difficult lane, 
along which they could proceed but 
slowly and with caution, entered into 
the following dial;>uur, she having first 



turned up the hood of her cloak over 
her bonnet, and tied a spotted cotton 
kerchief round her neck. 

•* Tnis," said the guide, who was 
Fardorougha Donovan's servaiit^nan, 
« is a quare enough business, as some 
o' the nabours do be say in* — marrid 
upon one another beyant thirteen year, 
an' ne'er a sign of a haiiorth. Why 
then begad it is quare.** 

" Wliisht, whisht ;" replied Molly, 
with an expression of mysterious and 
superior knowledge ; ^ dout be spakiu 
about what you dont understand — 
sure, nuttin's impossible to God, avick 
— dont you know that ?* 

*' Oh, bedad, sure enough — that we 
must allow, whether or not, still" — 

" Very well ; seein' that, what more 
have we to say, barrin* to bould our 
tongues. Childre sent late always 
come either for great good or great 
sarra to their paarents — an' God gprant 
that this may be for good to the honest 
people — for indeed honest people they 
are, by all accounts. But what myself 
wonders at is, that Honor Donovan 
never once opened her lips to me 
about it. However, God*t will be 
done ! The Lord send her safe over 
all her throubles, poor woman ! And, 
now that we're out o' this thief of a 
lane, lay an for the bare life, and never 
hoed me. I'm as good a horseman as 
yourself; and, indeed, Fve a good 
right, for I'm an ould hand at it'* 

" I'm thinkin'," she added, afler a 
short silence, "it's odd I never was 
much acquainted with the Donovans. 
I'm tould they're a hard pack, that 
loves the money." 

** Faix," replied her companion. •• let 
Fardarougha alone for Vnowin* the 
value of a shillin'! — they're not in 
Europe can hould a harder grip o' 
one." 

His master, in fact, was a hard frugal 
man, and his mistress a woman of 
somewhat a similar character i both 
were strictly honest, but, like many 
persons to whom God has denied 
offspring, their hearts had for a consi- 
derable time before been placed upon 
money as their idol ; for, in truth, the 
affections must be fixed upon some- 
thing, and we generally find that where 
children are denied, the world comes 
in and hardens by its influence the best 
and tendcrcst sympathies of humanity. ' 

After a journey of two milei they 



^1837.] 



TIm Convicts of LUnamona, 



213 



W me 



came out on a ha^'-lmck^ that skirted 
mi extensive ami level sweep of moa* 
dow. tiloug: wliicii iliey proceeded with 
as much *necd as a pillion! ess mid wife 
was capable of bearint^. At leng-tli, on 
a srentle declivity facin«r liie south, 
lliey e?piLd in the distiince the low, 
lon^ whitewashed farm-house of Far- 
dorougha Douovftii. Thi^re was little 
of artificial ornnment about the place, 
but much of th^ roug:h heart-stirring- 
wildness of nature, as it appeared in a 
litroiigr vig-orous district, well cultivated^ 
but without being^ tamed down by 
those finer and more pracf'ful touches, 
which now-a-days mark the skilful hand 
of the scientific agricultunst. 

To the left waved a beautiful hazte 
grJen, which gradually softened away 
into the meadowB above menlioned. 
Up behind the house stood an ancient 
plantation of whitethorn, which, duriu^ 
the month of May, ditfuscd its fra- 
gmnee, its beauty, and its melody over 
ibe whole farm. The plaiu garden 
was hedged round by the g^raceful 
poplar, whiJst here and there were 
studded over the fields either stnsrie 
trees or small groups of ontuntain ash» 
a tree stilt more beautiful than the 
former. The small dells about the 
farm were closely covered vviUfblacL- 
ihorn and holly, with an oecajsional oak 
shooting' up from some little clilf, and 
towering: sturdily over it& bwly compa- 
nionfl. Here grew a thick interwoven 
mass of dogr-tree, and upon a wild 
hedgerow, leaning like a beautiful wife 
upon a rugged husband, might be seen 
supported by clumps of blackthorn that 
most fragrant and exquisite of creepers 
the delicious honey-suckle. Add to 
ihia the neat appearance of the farm 
itself, with its meadows and corn6e3ds 
wttvtng to the soft sunny breeze of 
summer* and the reader mny admit, 
tintt without possessing^ any strikiug 
features of pictorial effect, it would, 
everthele<s, be difficult to find tin 
iiplying' fdrm upon which the eye could 

t with greater satisfaction. 

Ere arriving at the house they were 
met by Fardorongha himiielf, a small 
jwan, with dark, but weli-set features, 
hicb being at no time very placid, 
ippeared now to be absolutely gloomy* 
yet marked by strong and profound 
anxiety. 

*• Thank God !"' he ex claimed on 
meeting ihem ; " Is this Mary Mo^in Y' 

u It ]g — it is," she exclaimed : " bow 
ae all within ? — Am I in lime ?" 

" Only poorly " he returned ; ** you 
arc, I hope/ 



The midwife, when I hey reached 
the door, rot herself dismounted in all 
haste, uud was about eiitrring- the 
bouse, when Fardorou^rha, layiug his 
hand upon her shimUler, said in a tone 
of voice full of deep feetinj: — 

*' I need say nothing to you : what 
you can do, you will do — but one thing 
1 expect — if you see danger, call in 
assistance. 

** It's all in the hands o* God, Fardo- 
rou^ha, a cash la : be as aisy in ytnir 
jnind ae you can : if there's need for 
rnoic help you'll bear it ; so keep the 
man an' horse both ready." 

She then blessed herself, and entered 
the house, repeating a short prayer, or 
charm, which was supposed to po:-«ieBS 
uncommon efficacy in relieviofj crises of 
the Uiiture she Wiis then called upon to 
attend, 

FardortJULrh Donovan was a man of 
great good sense, and of strong, but 
not obvious or fleitible feeling ; tbiit is 
to say* on strong occasions he felt 
accortrm;.Oy, but exhibited no remarka- 
ble symptoms of emotion. In matters 
of a less important character, he was 
either deficient in sensibiliiy altogether, 
or it atfectcd him so sUghtly as not to 
be perceptible. What his dispositions 
and feelings might have been, had his 
parental atlettioris and doinestie i^ym- 
pathies been cultivated by the tender 
intercourse which subsists between a 
parent and hi.'* children, it is not easy 
to say. On >ueh occasions many a new 
and delightful senaalion — many a ?weet 
trait of affection previously nnknovui^ 
and. oh ! rn»ny, many a fresh impulse 
of rapturous em<»tion never before felt 
gushes out of the heart j all of which^ 
were it not for the existence of ties so 
delightful, might buve there lain, sealed 
yp tor ever. Where is the man who 
does not remember the strange impres- 
sion of tnniultuous delight whicn he 
experienced on finding himself a hus- 
band ? And who does not recollect that 
nameless charm, amounting almost to a 
new sense, which pervaded his whole 
being with tenderness and transport on 
kissing the roeie-bud lips of his firsT- 
barn babe? It is indeed by the ties of 
domestic life that the purity and atfit/c- 
tit'U and the general character of the 
btnnaii heart are best tried. What is 
there more beautiful than to &ee that 
fountain of tenderne.^s mulriplyii>g its 
affVeiions instead of dimiidsihinLr rhcm, 
arconlirig as claim after elaini ariseif, 
to make fresh demands upon it^ love. 
L<jve, and especially parental love, like 
jealou-^y, increases by what it feeds on. 



214 



X 
Pardoroughay 



tJm Mitter : or 



[Feb. 



But, oh ! from svhut liii unknown world 
of exiimsitc enjoy mcut are tiiey shut 
out, to whom rrovideiice lias not 
voiit'lisafed thuse huloved hekigs on 
whom the heart lavidh<"S the whole ful- 
ness of its Tiipture ! N'> wonder, that 
their own affections should wither In 
the cold gloom of disappointed liupe, 
or tliolr hearts haxiien into that 
moody spirit of worldly-ins iidcdiieiis 
whieh adopts for its offspring the 
mUeT*s idol. 

Whether F^rdorougha ftilt the want 
of chihlrt^ii acutely or oiheTwlric, eould 
nut he inferred frodi iitiy visifjle iiiiii- 
catioii of rL';^ret on kis purt by those 
who ktit!\v him. Mis own wife, whose 
fiAcllitic?i of uhservatiuii were so great 
und so frequent, was ouly a hie to sus- 

{>eet ill the aiUrmative. For hiiiLself 
le neither mtirmored tur repined, but 
she c uild perceive th:it alter a few 
years bad piissed, a sli^^lit degree of 
gloom beifau to cetile on him, and an 
uuxiety about his crops and his few 
cattle, and the produce of his farm. 
He also began lo calculate the amount 
of what might he saved from the fruits 
of their united industry* SoTnetimes, 
but indeed upun rare oc<*ai?ion5^, his 
temper appeared inclining to be iras- 
eilde or impatient ; but in general it 
was grave, cold, and inflexible, without 
any outbreaks of passion, or the slight- 
est disjiOiiition to mirth. His vvife''8 
mind, however, was by no means so 
iirm as his, nor so free from the traces 
of that secret rcg^ret which preyed 
upon it. She both murmured and re* 
pined, and often in terms which drew 
from Fardorougha a cool rebuke for her 
want of resignation to the will of God. 
As yeaii* advanced* however, her dis- 
appointment becnoie harassing even to 
herself, and now that hope began to 
die away, her heart gradually partook 
of the cool Wi^rldly spirit v^ Inch had 
sei/.cd u|nni the dispositiun of lu^r 
hiiHbjind. Though cnltivkitiug htit a 
sinnW fiirm, which iliey held at a high 
rent, yet by the dint of frugality and 
incessant diUgcuce they were able to 
^ , Id u litrle each year to the small 
ftock of money which they ha<l con- 
trived to put together. Still would the 
unhappy retiection that they were 
"phildle^s steal painlully and heavily 
kver them ; the wife would some 
"'time* murmur, and the husband re- 
prove her, hut in a tone so cool and 
imliiferpnt that she could not avoiil 
concluiliiig itiat his own want of re- 
Bi^nati'Jn, thoiiL'^h not expressed, was 
^t hiart equal to her own. Each also 



became somewhat relig^ioue, and both 
remarkable for a punctual attendance 
upon the rites of their church, and Uut 
in proportion as the love of tempoDi] 
things overcame ihem. In this maiu 
ner they lived upwards of thirteeo 
years, when Mrs. Donovan declareii 
herself to be in that situation which 
in due time rendered the services of 
Mary Moan necessary. 

From the moment this intiaiatioa 
was given, und its truth confirmed, a 
faint liizht. not greater than the dim 
and trembling Jusire of a single star, 
br*>ke in upon the darkened affectioui 
and worldly spirit of Fardorougha Do- 
novan. I Lid the announci-ment takeu 
[dace vvitliiu any rea-^onnblc period 
after hi» marriage, hefuie he had bc- 
eome &ick of disa])polntment, or hA4 
surrendered his heart from iibsolule 
despiiir to an incipient spirit of avarice, 
it would no dmibt have been hailed 
mih all the eager delight of uul4ighied 
hope and vivid affection ; but tiow m M 
new and subtle habit had been super* I 
induced, after the last cherished CKpco- 
tati^^n of the heart had departed ; a 
fpirit of foresight and severe calculation 
descended on him, and had so nearly 
isatti rated his whole being, that lie 
could not for .some time actually do 
termine whether the knowledge of hi§ 
wife's situation was more agreeable to 
his affection, or repugnant to the parsi- 
monious disposition which had quick- 
ened hh heart into an energy incom- 
patdble with natural benevolence, and 
the perception of those teoder ties 
which spriny up from the relations of 
domestic life. For a considerable 
lime this struggle between the two 

tirineiples went on ; sometime a new 
lope would fi]mng up, attended in the 
buck-ground by a thousand affecting 
circumstunces^on the other hand 
some gloouiv and undefinahle dread of 
exi;jeiiey, distress, and ruin, would 
wring his heart and «itik bis spirits 
down to positive niistry* Notwith- 
standing tliis conflict between growing 
avarice and affection, the ^tar of the 
fatiicr's love had risen, and though, iis 
we have already said, \ia light was dim 
und unsteady, yet the monient a cyQgle M 
opening occurred in the clouded mind, | 
there it was to be seen serene and 
pure, a beautiful emblem of undying 
and solitary affection «tniggliug with 
the cares and angry passions of life. 
By degrees, however, the hu^lmnd's 
heart became touched by the hopes of 
his yriunger years, fortner associations 
revived, und rcmcnibraiiccs af past 



I 



( 



I 



1837.] 



The Convicts of Lisnamona, 



2i5 



tenderness, though blunted in a heart 
so much chanfi^ed, came over him like 
the breath of fragrance that has nearly 
passed awav. He be^an, therefore, 
to contemplate the event without fore- 
bodinfi^, and by the time the looked-for 
period arrived, if the world and its de- 



but thrive wid that in the house. Thank 
you, sir, an'wishiu' her once more safe, 
over her throubles ! — divil a betther 
misthress ever," &c. &c. &c. 

Here, however, there was nothing 
of the kind. Fardorougha's heart in 
the first instance was against the ex- 



basing influences were not utterly over- pcnse, and besides, its present brood- 
come, yet nature and the quickening mgs resembled the throes of pain which 

break out from the stupor that presses 



tenderness of a father's feelings had 
made a considerable progress in a heart 
from which they had been long ba- 
nished. Far ditferent from all this was 
the history of his wife since her per- 
ception of an event so delightful. In 
her was no bitter and ob:}tinate prin- 
ciple subversive of affection to be over- 
come. For although she had iu latter 
years sank into the painful apathy of a 



so heavily upon the exhausted functions 
of life in the crisis of a severe fever. 
He could not, in fact, rest nor remain 
for any length of time in tlie same spot. 
With a slow but troubled step he 
walked backward and forward, som<r 
times uttering indi:»tinct ejaculations 
and broken sentences, such as no one 
could understand. At length he ap- 



hopcless spirit, and given herself some- proached his own servants, and ad- 



what to the world, yet no sooner did 
the unexpected light dawn upon her, 
than her whole soul was filled with 
exultation and delight. The world 
and its influence passed awav like a 
dream, and her heart meltetf into a 
habit of tenderness at once so novel 
and exquisite, that she often assured 
her husband she had never felt hap- 
piness before. 

Such are the respective states of 
feeling in which our readers find Far- 
dorougha Donovan and his wife, upon 
an occasion whose consequences run 
too far into futurity for us to determine 
at present whether they are to end in 
happiness or misery. For a consider- 
able time that evening, before the ar- 
rival of Mary Moan, the males of the 
family had taken up their residence in 
an inside kiln, where, afler having 
kindled a fire in the draught hole, or 
what the Scotch call the *' logic,** thoy 
sat and chatted in that kind of festive 
spirit which such an event uniformly 
produces among the servants of a 
family. Fardorougha himself remained 
for the most part with them, that is to 
say, except while ascertaining from time 
to time the situation of his wife. His 
presence, however, was only a restraint 
upon their good humour, and his nig- 
gardly habits raised some rather un- 
complimentary epithets during his 
short visits of enquiry. It is customary 
upon such occasions, as soon as the 
mistress of the family is taken ill, to 
ask the servants to drink " an aisy bout 
to the misthress, sir, an' a speedy re- 
covery — not forgeltin* a safe landin' to 
the youngsther, and, like a Christmas 
compliment, many of them to you both. 
Whoo ! death alive, but that*s fine 
stufi* — Oh, begorra, the misthress can't 



dressed the messenger whose name 
was Nogher M'Cormick. 

" Nogher," said he, ** I'm throubled.** 
" Throubled ! dad, Fardorougha, you 
ought to be a happy and a thankful 
man this night, that is, if God sinds 
the mistress safe over it, as I hope he 
will, plase goodness.** 

" I'm poor, No<ihor, Pm poor, an' 
here's a family comin'.** 

** Faith take care it's not sin you're 
committin' by spakin' as you're doin'." 
" But you know I'm ])oor, Nogher." 
" But I know you're wo/, Fardo- 
rougha ; but I'm afraid, if God has'nt 
sed it, that your heart's too much fix'd 
upon the world. Be my faix it's on 
your knees you ought to be this 
same night, thankin' the Almighty 
for his goodness, and not grumblin' 
an' sthroelin' about the place, flyin* 
in the face of God ft»r sendin' you 
an' your wife a blcssin' — for sure I 
hear the Scripthur says that all 
child res a blessiu' if they're resaved as 
sich ; an' vo be to the man says scrip- 
thur dat's born wid a milstone about 
his neck, espishally if he's cast into the 
say. I know you pray enough, but be 
my sowl, it hasn't improv'd your morals, 
or it's the mistress's health we'd be 
drinkin' in a good bottle o' whiskey at 
the ])resrnt time. Faix myself wouldn't 
be much surprized if she had a hard 
twist in (jucnsequence, an' if she does, 
the fau't 's your own an' not ours, for 
we're willin' as the flowers o' May to 
drink all sorts o' good luck to her." 

" Nogher/' said the other, ** it's truth 
a <;r«Ht dale of what you've sod — may 
bo all of it." 

" Faith, I know, returned Nogher, 
that about the whisky it'& paitil gos- 
pel." 



216 



lutrdorougha, the MUer * or 



[Feb. 



extended her hanil to him wKHtt 



** In one tbinjr ill be advised by 
you, an' that is, I'll go to my knees boI\ sweet tears of delight ran quietl; 
and pray to God to ?et my heart right down her cheeks. When he *"•-' 
if it's wronj; — I teel etratigc 



strAng:e 
Nogher — happy, an' not h*tppy/* 

** You needn't go to your knees at 
all." replied Nogher, ** if ymi give u? the 
whiskey ; or if you do priiy* be in arnef»t, 
that your heart ra;iy be luctiaed to do 
it.'* 

" You desarvenone for them words," 
ga'd Fiirdorou^hii, who fek that No- 
gher'n bulfotmery jarred upon ihe belter 
feelinj^s ihat were Hfting uitbin biui,- — 
" you deserve none an* yoo1l ^vX none — 
for tite present at It-ast, an' Vm only a 
fool for ?pjking to you." 

He then retired to the upper part of 
the kiln, where in a durk corner he 
knelt with a troubled heart, and prayed 
to God. 

We doubt not but eueh reatlers as 
possess feeling will pe revive I hat Far- 




iieue< 
her hand he stoitped to ki?s her, hi 
she put her other bund up and said- 
•* No, no, you must kiss /dm firsL'* 
He instantly stooped over the batie, 
look it ID his amis, looked long and 
earnestly upon it, put it up near him, 
again gave it a long intense gaze, aller 
which he mised iu little mouth to his 
own, and then imprinted the father 'i 
first kisa upon the fragrant lip§ of hb 
beloved first*born. Having gently de- 
posited the predous bahe upon it» 
mother's arm, he caught her hand and 
imprinted upon her lips a ki*5 ; — but 
to those wlio understand it we need 
not de.^cribe it — to those who cannot, 
we could give no adequate notion of 
that which we are able in no other 
way to describe than by ^a^ing that 
it would seem as if i he condensed cn- 



dorougliH waa not only an object at joyrnent of a whole life were conct'O- 

ihis ptiriicnlar period ol mueh interest, trated into that embrace of the child 

but a!i«o eniitlcd to sincere fympaihy, and mother. 

Few men in bis circtrm stance* could When this tender scene wm o?er, 

OT probably would so ear neatly struggle the midwife comtnenced — 



with a predominant passion as he did, 
though svitlioiit eduratioii, or such a 
knowledge of the world us mi^ht enable 
bini, by any observation of the human 
heart iu others, lo undci stand Ihe 
workings of his own. He bad not been 
ten minutes at prayer wlien the voice 
of his femule servant was lieard in loud 
and exulting lone*, cnlling out ere she 
approached the kiln it?elf — 

** Fartlorougha, ca woul thn ? -^ 



" Well, if ever a inuri bad rasoa to 
be thank " 

** Silence woman," he exclaimed in 
a voice which hushed bcr alrooei into 
terror, 

" Let him alone,** ^aid the wife, ad- 
dresisiiig her, ** let hiui alone, i know 
what be feels/* 

** No,** he replied/^even yoy Honom 
dont know it — my heart, my heart 
went astray, and there, uudher God and 



VVherti'smy fooliu, maslher ? Where's my Saviour, is the being that will be 

my arle^ ? — Come in^ — come in, y^uiVe the salvation of his ftiUier/* 

a wantin* to kissyourson — the mistress His wife understood him and was 



a want 

is dyin* till you kiss your ^odJ" 

The last words were uttered as she 
entered the kiln. 

** Dyin* !** he repeated — "the mistress 
^yin*-^h Susy let a thousand chitdre 
go before her — dyiu' I did you say 
dyin*'r 

** Ay did I, an* it's truth too, but it*8 
wid joy she's dyin* to see you kis& 
one o* the ptirtiest young boys in all 
the barony of Li^namona — myself *a 
over head and cars in love wid him in 
resuly," 

He gave a rapid glance upwards, so 
much so, that it was scarcely percepii- 
hle, and inimndiatcly accompHnied her 
into the bouse. The child in the 
1 11 can time had been dressed' and lay 
on its mother's arm in the bed wheu 
its father entered. He approached the 
bedside and glanced at it— then at the 
mother who lay smibng basida it — she 



touched ; the tears fell fast from her 
eyes, and extending her baud to him, 
she said as be clasped il : 

" Sure, Fardofougha, the world wont 
be as much in your heart now» dot 
your temper so dark as it w ub**^ 

He made no rcftly i but pbcing his 
other hand over bis eye^, he sat in 
that poi=tore for some minute*. Oii 
niising his head the tears were ruunto^ 
us if iuvoluutarily rlown his cheeks. 

" Houora," said be, ** I'll go out for 
a btile — you can tell Mary Moan 
where any thing's to be had — let them 
all be trated so as that they dont take 
too nmr h — an* Mary Mo an you wont 
be forgotten/* 

He then passed out, and did not 
a[)pesir for upwartls of an hour, nor 
could any one of them tell wlicrc he 
had been. 




1837.] 



The Convicts of Limamona. 



217 



<• Well," laid Honora, after he had 
left the room, "we're now married near 
fourteen years; and until this night I 
never see him shed a tear." 

" But sure, achushia, if anything can 
touch a father's heart the sight of his 
first child will. Now keep yourself asy, 
avoumeen, and tell me wnere the whis- 
key an' any thing else that may be a 
wantin' is, till I gire these crathurs of 
sarrints a dhrop of something to com- 
fort thim." 

At this time, however, Mrs. Dona- 
van's mother and two sisters, who had 
for some hours previously been sent 
for, just arrived, a circumstance which 
once more touched the newlv awaken- 
ed chord of the mother's heart, and 
gave her that confidence which the 
presence of ** one's own blood," as the 
people express it, always communicates 
upon such occasions. After having 
kissed and admired the babe, and be- 
dewed its face with the warm tears of 
aficction, they piously knelt down, as 
is the custom among most Irish families, 
and offered up a short but fervent 
prayer of gratitude as well for an event 
so happy, as for her safe delivery, and 
the future welfare of the mother and 
child. When this was performed, Ihcy 
set themselves to the distribution of the 
blythe meat or groaning malt, a duty 
which the midwife transferred to them 
with much pleasure, this being a mat- 
ter which, except in cases of necessity, 
she considers beneath the dignity of 
her profession. The servants were ac- 
conUnelv summoned in due time, and 
headed by Nogher, soon made (heir 
appearance. In events of this nature, 
servants in Ireland, and we believe 
every where else, are always allowed 
a considerable stretch of good-humour- 
ed license in those observations which 
they are in the habit of making. In- 
deed this is not so much an extempo- 
raneous indulgence of wit on their 
part, as a mere repetition of the set 
phrases and traditionary apothegms 
which have been long established 
among the peasantry, and as they are 
in general expressive of present satis- 
faction and good wishes for the future, 
so woiild it be looked upon as churlish- 
ness, and in some cases on the part of 
the servants, a sign of ill-luck to neglect 
them. 

•• Now,* said Honora's mother to the 
servants of both sexes, "now childre, 
that you've aite a trifle, you must taste 
something in the way of dhrink. It 
would lie too bad on this night above 
all nights we've seen yet, not to have a 



glass to the stranger's health at all 
evints. Here Nogher, thry this, avick 
— ^you never got a glass wid a warmer 
heart." 

Nogher took the liquor, his grave 
face charged with suppressed humour, 
and first looking upon his fellow-ser- 
vants with a countenance so droll yet 
dry, that none but themselves uncfer- 
stood it, he then directed a very sober 
glance at the good woman. 

" Thank you, ma'am," he exclaimed ; 
** be goxty, sure enough if our hearts 
wouldn't get warm now, the\''d never 
warm. A happy night it is for Fardo- 
rougha and the misthress, at any rate, 
ril engage the stran^^er was worth 
waitin' for, too. I'll hould a thrifle, 
he's the beauty o* the world this min- 
nit — an' Dl engage its breeches we'll 
have to be gettin' for him some o' these 
days, the darlin*. Well, here's his 
health, any way ; an' may he"— 

*• Husth arogorah!" exclaimed the 
midwife ; ** stt»p, I say — the tree afore 
the fruit, all the world over : dont you 
know, an' bad win to you, that if the 
sth ranger was to go tomorrow, as good 
might come afther him, while the 
paarent stocks are to the fore. The 
mother an' father first, acushla, an' thin 
the sthranger." 

** Many thanks to you, Mrs. Moan,** 
replied Nogher, •* for settin* me right 
— sure we'll know something ourselves 
whin it comes our own turn, plase 
goodness. If the misthress isn't asleep, 
by goxty, I'd call in to her, that I'm 
dhrinkin' her health." 

" She's not asleep," said her mother ; 
^ an' proud she'll be, poor thing, to hear 
you, Nogher." 

<* Misthress!" he said in a loud voice, 
** are you asleep, ma'am ?" 

** No, indeed, Nogher," she replied, 
in a good-humoured tone of voice. 

" Well ma'am," said Nogher, still in 
a loud voice* and scratching his head, 
** here's your health : an' now that the 
ice is bruk — be goxty, an' so it is sure," 
said he in an undertone to the rest — 
" Peggy, behave yourself," he continued 
to one of the servant-maids, ** mockin's 
catchiu' : faix, you dunna what's afore 
yourself yet — beg pardon — I'm for- 
gettiii' myself— an' now that the ice is 
bruk^ ma'am," he resumed, " you must 
be dacent for the futher. Many a 
bottle, plase goodness, we'll have this 
way yet. Your health, ma'am, an* a 
speedy recovery to you — an' a sudden 
uprise — not for<ro4tiu' the masthcr — 
long life to him !" 



218 



Fardorougha, the Miser: or 



[Feb. 



" What !** said the midwife, '* are you 
forgcttiii* the sthranger ?'* 

Nogher looked her full in the face, 
and opening his mouth, without saying 
a word, literally pitched the glass of 
spirits to the very bottom of his throat. 

** Beggin' your pardon, ma'am," he 
rejilied, " is it three healths you'd have 
me dhrink wid the one glassful ? — not 
myself indeed ; faix, Td be long sorry 
to make so little of him — if he was a 
bit of a girs/ia I'd not scru])le to give 
him a corner o* the glass, but, bein' a 
young man, althers the case intircly — 
he must have a bumper for himself." 

** A girsha !" said Peggy, his fellow- 
servant, feeling the indignity just 
otttTcd to her sex — '* Why, thin, bad 
manners to your assurance for that 
i>ame : a girsha's as well intitled to a 
full gliiss as a gorsoon, any day." 

** Husth a colleen," said Nogher 
good-humouredly, ** sure, it's takiu* 
patthern by sicii a 6ne example you 
ought to be. This, Mrs. Moan, is the 
purty orature I was mintioiiin' as wo 
eauie along, that intinds to get span- 
shi'lled wid myself some o' these days — 
that is, if she can bring me into good 
humour, the thief.'' 

•* And if it does ha])pcn," said 
Peggy, " you'll have to look sharp 
aflher him, Mrs. Moan. lie's pleasant 
enough now, but I'll be bound no man 
'ill know betthcr how to hang his Hddlc 
behind the door whin he comes huuic 
to us." 

'* Well, acushla, sure he may, if he 
likes, but if he does he knows what's 
afore him — not sayiu' that he ever will, 
I hope, for it's a woful case whin it 
comes to that, ahugur." 

" Faix, it's a happy story for half the 
poor wives of the parish that you're in 
It," said Peggy, " sure, only for" 

" Bcdiwhusth Vrcadt af^ns glak sho — 
hould your tongue, Peggy, and taste 
this," said the mother of ))er misthress, 
handing her a glass : '' If you intind 
to go together, in the name o' goodness 
fear God more than the midwife, if you 
want to have luck an' grace." 

" Oh, is it all this ?" exclaimed the 
sly girl ; " faix, it *ill make me hearty 
if 1 dhrink so nmch — bedeed it will. 
Well, misthress, your health, an' a 
sjieedy uprise to you — an* the same to 
the maslher, not forg<?ttin' the sthranger 
— long life an* good health to him." 

She then put the glass to her lips, 
and after several small si|)s, appearing 
to be so uiiiny uusuecessful attempts at 
overcoming hiT reluctance to drink it, 
she at length took oourago, and bolting 



it do WD, immediately tpplied ber apron 
to her mouth, making at tbe tame time 
two or three wry faces, ^ping, as if 
to recover the breath which it did nol 
take from her. 

The midwife, in the mean time, felt 
that the advice just giren to Nogher 
and Peggy contained a clause some- 
what more detrimental to her impor- 
tance than was altogether agreeable to 
her ; and to sit calmly under any impu- 
tation that involved a diminotionof ber 
authority, was not within the code of 
her ])ractice. 

** If they go together," she observed, 
•* it's right to fear God, no doubt ; but 
that's no rasou why they shouldn't pay 
respect to thim that can aarvc thim or 
otherwise^ 

" Nobody says aginst that, Mrs. 
Moan," rei)lied the other ; * it's all fair, 
an' not bin' else." 

" A midwife's nuttin* in your eyes, 
we suppose," rejoined Mrs. Moan; 
'' but maybe there's thim bolongtn* to 
you could tell to the conthrary.* 

" Oblaged to you, we suppose, for 
your sarvices — an' we're not deuyiu' 
that aither." 

*' For me sarvices — maybe tliim same 
sarvices warn't very sweet or treacle- 
some to some o' thim," she rejoined, 
with a mysterious and somewhat indig- 
nant toss of the head. 

" Well, well,' said the other in a 
friendly tone, ** that makes no maxim 
one way or the other, only dhrink this 
— sure we're not goiu* to quarrel about 
it, any how." 

" God forbid, Honora More ; but 
sure it ud ill become me to hear my 
own corree — no, no, avoumccn," she 
exclaimed, putting back the glass ; ** I 
cant take it this-a-way ; it doesn't 
agree wid me ; you must put a grain 
o' shugar an' a dhrop o' biliii* watlier 
to it. It may do very well hard for 
the sarvints, but I'm not used to it." 

" I bird that myself afore," observed 
Nogher, " that she never dhrinks hard 
whisky. Well, myself never tasted 
punch but wanst, an* be goxty its great 
dhrink. Death alive, Honora More," 
he continued, in his moftt insinuating 
manner, '* make us all a sup. Sure, 
bhK)d alive, this is not a common night, 
afther what God has sint its ; Furdu- 
rougha himself would allow you, if be 
was here ; deed, be dad, he as good as 
promised me he would ; an' you kuow 
we have the young customer's health 
to dhrink yet." 

" Throth, an' you ought," said the 
midwife ; '* the boy says nuttin* but the 



1837.] 



The Convicts of Lisnamona. 



219 



Umith — «i(*8 not a common night ; an* 
If God has given Fardorougha sub- 
stance, he shouldn't begridgc a little, 
if it was only to show a grateful heart.** 

•* Well, well,** said Honora More— 
which means great Honora, in opposi- 
tion to her daughter, Fardorougha*s 
wife ; this being an epithet adopted 
for the purpose of contra-distinguisning 
the members of a family when called 
by the same name — *' Well,** said she, 
** I suppose it's as good. My own 
heart, dear knows, is not in a thrifle, 
only I have my doubts about Fardo- 
rougha. However, what's done can't 
be undone ; ao, once we mix it, he'll be 
too late spake if he comes in, any 
way." 

The punch was accordingly mixed, 
and they were in the act of sitting down 
to enjoy themselves with more comfort 
when Fardorougha entered. As before, 
he was silent and disturbed, neither 
culm nor stern, but labouring, one 
would suppose, under strong feelings of 
a decidedly opposite character. On 
seeing the punch made, his brow ga- 
thered into something like severity : 
he looked quickly at his mother-iu-Iaw, 
and was about to speak, but, pausing a 
moment, he sat down, and afler a little 
time said in a kind voice — 

" It's right, it's right — for his sake, 
an' on his account, have it ; but, Ho- 
nora, let there be no waste." 

** Sure we had to make it for Mrs. 
Moan whether or not," said his mother- 
in-law — " she can't dhrink it hard, poor 
woman." 

Mrs. Moan, who had gone to see 
her patient, having heard his voice 
again, made her appearance with the 
child in her arms, and with all the im- 
portance which such a burthen usually 
bestows upon persons of her calling, 

** Here," siua she, presenting him 
the infant ** take a proper look at this 
fellow. That I may never, if a finer 
swaddy ever cross'd my hands. Throth 
if you wor dead tomorrow he'd be mis- 
taken for you — ^your born image — the 
sorra thing else^-eh alanna — the Lord 
love my son — faix you've daddy's nose 
upon vou any how — an' his chin to a 
turn. Oh thin, Fardorou^^ha, but there's 
many a couple rowlin' in wealth that 
'ud be proua to have the like's of him ; 
an that must die an let it all go to 
strangers, or to them that doesn't care 
about them, 'ceptin' to get grabbin' at 
what they have, an' that think every 
day a year that they're above the sod. 
What! manim-an — kiss your child, 
man alive. That I may never, but he 



looks at the darlin' as if it was a sod of 
turf. Throth you're not worthy of 
havin' such a bully." 

Fardoroujfha, during this dialogue, 
held the child in his arms and looked 
upon it earnestly as before, but without 
betraying any visible indication of 
countenance that could enable a spec- 
tator to estimate the nature of what 
passed within him. At length there 
appeared in his eye a barely percep- 
tible expression of benignity, which, 
however, soon passed away, and was 
replaced by a shadow of gloom and 
anxiety. Nevertheless in compliance, 
with the commands of th^ midwife, he 
kissed its lips, after which the servants 
all gathered round it, each lavishing 
upon the little urchin those hyperbo- 
lical expressions of flattery, which afler 
all most parents are willing to receive 
as something approximating to Gospel 
truth. 

** Be dad," said Nogher, ** that fel- 
low 'ill be the flower o* the Donovans, 
if God spares him — be goxty I'll engage 
he'll give the purty girls many a sore 
heart yet — he'll play the dickens wid 
'em or I'm not here — a wough ! do you 
hear how the young rogue gives tongue 
at that ; the sorra one o' the shaver 
but knows what I'm sayin'." 

Nogher always had an eye to his 
own comfort, no matter under what 
circumstances he might be placed. 
Having received the full glass, he 
grasped his master's hand, and in the 
usual set phrases to which, however, 
was added, much extempore matter of 
his own, he drank the baby's health, 
congratulating the parents in his own 
blunt way, upon this accession to their 
happiness. The other servants con- 
tinued to pour out their praises in terms 
of delight and astonishment at his ac- 
complishments and beauty, each, in imi- 
tation of Nogher, concludinfi^ with a 
toast in nearly the same words. 

How sweet from all other lips b the 
praise of those we love ! Fardorougha 
who, a moment before, looked upon his 
infant's face with an unmoved counte- 
nance, felt incapable of withstanding 
the flattery of his own servants when 
uttered in favour of the child. His 
eye became complacent, and while 
Nogher held his hand, a slight pressure 
in return was proof sufiieient that his 
heart beat in accordance with the hopes 
they expressed of. all that the unde- 
veloped future might bestow upon him. 

When their little treat was over 
the servants withdrew for the night, 
and Fardorou^'ha himself, still labour- 



220 



JFardoroufflia, tlte Jitter : or, 



[Feb. 



ing under an excitement so complicated 
and novel, retired rather to shape his 
mind to some definite tone of feeling 
than to seek repose. 

How strange is life, and how mys- 
teriously connected is the woe or the 
weal of a single family with the great 
mass of human society. We beg the 
reader to stand with us upon a low, 
sloping hill, a little to the left of Far- 
doroiigha's house, and, afler having 
solemnized his heart by a glance at the 
starry gospel of the skies, to cast his 
eye upon the long whitewashed dwell- 
ing, as it shines faiiitly in the visionary 
distance of a moonlight night. How 
full of tranquil beauty is the hour, and 
how deep the silence, except when it is 
broken by the loud baying of the 
watch-dog, as he barks in sullen fierce- 
ness at his own echo ; or perhaps there 
is nothing heard but the sugh of the 
mounUiin river, as with booming sound 
it rises and falls in the distance filling 
the ear of midnight with its wild and 
continuous melody. Look around 
and observe the spirit of repose which 
sleeps on the face of nature, think 
upon the dream of human life, and of 
all the inexplicable wonders wliich arc 
read from day to day in that miraculous 
page — the heart of man. Neither 
your eye nor imagination need pai^s 
beyond that humble roofbt-fore you, in 
which it is easy to perceive by the 
lights passing at this unusual hour 
across the windows, that there is some- 
thing added either to their joy or to 
their sorrow. There is the mother, in 
whose heart was accumulated the un- 
wasted tenderness of years, forgetting 
all the past in the first intoxicating in- 
fluence of an unknown ecstacy, and 
looking to the future with the eager 
aspirations of affection. There is the 
husband too, whose heart the lank de- 
vil of the avaricious — the famine-struck 
god of the miser, is even now contend- 
ing with the almost extinguished love 
which springs up in a father's bosom 
on the sight of his first-bom. 

llc'ader, who can tt*ll whether the en- 
trancing visions of the happy mother, 
or the gloomy anticipations of her ap- 
prehensive husband, are more i)r()j)lie- 
tic of the destiny which is before their 
child. Many indeed and various are 
the hopes and fears fcrlt under that roof, 
and dee|>ly will their lights and sha- 
dows be blendt'd in the life of the being 
whose claims arc so strong upon their 
love. There ; for some time past the 
lights in the window have appeared 
k'ss irtr/neutly, one by one we presume 



the inmates have gone to repose, no 
other is now visible, the last candle is 
extinguished, and this humble section 
of the great family of roan is now at 
rest with the veil of a dark and feaifol 
future unlifted before them. 

There is not perhaps in the series of 
human 'passions any one so difiicult to 
be eradicated out of the bosom as 
avarice, no matter with what seeming 
moderation it puts itself forth, or under 
what disguise it may appear. And 
among all its cold-blooded characteris- 
tics there is none so utterly unacconnt^ 
able as that frightful dread of ^minc 
and ultimate starvation which is also 
strong in proportion to the impossi- 
bility of its ever being realized. In- 
deed when it arrives to this we shoulil 
not term it a passion but a malady, and 
in our opinion the narrow-hearted pa- 
tient should be prudently separated 
from society, and treated as one la- 
bouring under an incurable species of 
monomania. 

During the few days that interven- 
ed between our hcros birth and his 
christening, Fardorougha*s mind was 
engaged in forming some fixed prin- 
ciple by which to guide his heart in 
the conflict that still went on between 
avarice and aflcction. lu this tank he 
imagined that the father predominated 
over the miser almost without a strug- 
gle, whereas, the fact was, that the 
subtle passion, ever more ingenious 
than the simple one, changed its exter- 
nal character, and came out in the 
shape of affectionate forecast and pro- 
vident regard for the wants and pros- 
pects of his child. This gross decep- 
tion of his own heart he felt as a re- 
lief, for, though smitten with the world, 
it did not escape him that the birth 
of his little one, all its circumstances 
considered, ought to have caused him 
to feel an enjoyment unalloyed by 
the care and regret which checked his 
sym})utliies as a parent. Neither was 
conscience itself altogether ailent, uor 
the blunt remonstrances of his servants 
wholly without effect. Nay, so com- 
l>letoly was his judgment over-reached 
that he himself atiributcd this'anoma- 
Ions state of feeling to a virtuous 
effort of Christian duty, and looked 
upon the eneroachmenls which a He- 
sire of saving wealth hafi made on his 
heart as a manifest proof of much im- 
rental aitaehment. He consequently 
lovcij his wealth through the uieiliuui 
of his son, and laid it down a^ a 
fixed principle that every act of p;tr5i. 
mony on his part was uiercly one of 



J 8370 



The Convicts of Limamina* 



221 



prudence, and hod the love of a futhcr 

' ind iin affectionate considcTation for 

hh child*i* future welfare to jUBlifv it* 

The first striking- instance of this 
tlose sind gripini^ spirit appeared upon 
in occasion vvhiuh seldom mils to^jpon* 
Ireland ut least, all tlie warm and 
renerous impulses of our natur<^ When 
ih «ife deemed h necessary to nwke 
ho^e hospitable preparation?, for their 
Child's christening whieh are ^o U!^ULll 
piitliecounirv, he treated her intention 
pf ccmiplying with this idd eustom as a 
direct proof of unju&tiHobie folly and 
extravugauee — nay, his rcmonstranct 
[With her exhibited such rcmaikable 
^ood sense and prudence^ that it was a 
ttattcr of extreme difficulty to contro- 
vert it. or to perceive that it originated 
froui any other motive ihun a strong 
DiPrest in the true welfare of their 
bltd. 
* Will our wasting^ meat and money, 
in' for that malthur health and time 
5n his christeuin', aillier give him 
nore health or make us love him bet- 
ber? lt*s not the first iiine, Honora» 
bat I've heard yourself make little of 
'nome of our nubours for goin' beyant 
their ability in gitlin*up big christenins, 
~)oni be foolish now thin when it comes 
» your own turn.'' 

The w ife took the babe up, and after 
having gated affectionately tm its inno- 
cent features, replied to him in a voice 
of tenderness and reproof — 

" God knows, Fardorou;iba, an' if I 

)tici wid foily as you call it in tjettin' 

eady his christeninV surely, surely you 

ughtn't to blame the mother for that — 

ittle I thoug:ht, acushta oge, that your 

pwn father 'ud begrudge you as good a 

phristenin' as is put over any other na- 

' Dur's child, Tm afraid, Fardoroagha* 

he^s not us much in your heart as he 

fought to be.'* 

** It*8 a bad proof of tove for him, Ho- 
rjiora» to put to the bad what may an* 
rould besarviceableto him hercakher. 
Ifou only think for the present^ but I 
mnt forget that he's to be settled in the 
irorld, an' you know yourself what poor 
\ we have of doiu' that, an' that 
> begin to be extravagant an* waste- 
ill beka^^e God has sent him, wc may 
eg wid him afoce long." 
•♦ There's no danger of us beggJn' wid 
him. No,*' she continued, the pride of 
he mother having been touched, " my 
)(iy will never b«g — no avournecn— 
roil nevLT will — nor shame or disgrace 
Jrilt never come upon him aither« Have 
fou no trust in God, Fardoroogha f*' 



" God never lielps them that neglect 
themselves, Honora.'* 

" But if it was p Using lo hia will to 
remove him from us, would you ever 
forgive yourself not lettlu' him have 
a cbristenin' like another ehitd ?'* re^ 
joined the per?evering mulher, 

^' The prie.*t," replied the goofl man, 
" will do as much tor the poor child as 
the rich— there*8 but one Sitcrament for 
botti — anything else is waste, as 1 ,«uid| 
an' 1 wont give in to it. You dont 
consldher that your way of iTnd spend 
as much in one ddy as 'ud clothe htm 
two ur three years." 

*' May I never sin this day, Fardo* 
rougha, but one 'ud think youVe tired 
of him already. By not givirf in to 
what's dacent you know you1l only 
fret ine— ^ thing that no man wid half 
a heart 'ud do to any woman sopportin' 
a habby as 1 am. — a frettrd nur:4e 
makes a child sick, as Molly Moan 
tould you before she went, so that 
it*s not on my own account Fm spakin', 
but on his — poor weeny pel— tlie Lord 
love him I Look at his mnoceut purly 
little face, an' how can you have the 
heart. Fardorougha ? Come nvourneen 
^^^ive way to me this wanst — throlh 
if you do, you1l see how Til nurse 
him — an what a darlin lump o* sugar 
ril have him for you in no time !" 

He paused a little at this delicate 
and aftecting appeal of the mother, but 
except by a *juick glance that passed 
from her lo their child, it was imposs^ible 
to say whether or not it made any im- 
pression on his heart, or in the sligliteat 
degree changed Ids resolution. 

•* Well, well,** said he, " let nic alone 
novv — I'll think of it — I'll turn it over 
an' see what's best to be done ; do yon 
the same, Honora, an' may be your 
own sinse will bring you to my siJe of 
the ipieslion at last." 

The next day, his wife renewed the 
subject with unabated anxiety, but 
instead of expressing any change in 
her favour, F'aniorougha declined 
even to enter into it at all. An evasive 
reply was all she could extort from 
him, with an assurance that he would 
in a day or two connnunicate the reso- 
lution to which he had finally come. 
She perceived at once, that the case 
was hopeless, and after one last inef- 
fectual attempt to bring him round, 
¥^he felt herself forced to abandon it. 
Tlie chihl, theTcfore, much to the mo- 
ther's mortifiealion, was baptized with- 
out a christening, unless the mere pre- 
sence of the godfather and godmotncr, 



n2 



Fatdoroitf/hu^ the Miser; or^ 



[Feb. 



in addUion to Fardorougha's own 
fttiiidy, could be said to constitute one. 

0<ir readers, (»erbiip5, arc nut aware 
Ihiit a cause of dee[i anxiety hitherto 
uriijoticed by cis, o[ierdted vvkli liiteiit 
power ujion Fiirdorouglia's heaU, But 
su sLnuig' in Irelaud is the Ije.iiitiruL 
«u|ierslltiori — if it cait with truth be 
termed so — tliut ehildreti are a blesairig, 
only wiien received as siieb, that even 
t!n>nirh supporred by ihc hurdest and 
moat shameless of all viecs— avarice, 
Fiirdoruugha had not nerve to avow 
this most uii natural souree of bis clis- 
tresi?. Tire ikfi, however, was that to 
a mind no coaetiiuted, tiiea[)prehension 
of a laTije ikmily^ was in itself ii con- 
sideration, which he thon^ht mi;^ht at 
a future period of their live?, reduce 
both him and ins to starvation and 
death* Our readers may remember 
Noghcr M*Corm!ck's rebuke to him, 
vhen he heard Fardursmgha allude to 
this, and bo accessible was he Mf« to 
i the feelin!^, that on fniLling' \m heart at 
variance with it, he absulutidy admitted 
Ins error, and prayed to God that he 
might be cuabled to overcome it. 
It was therefore on the day rd^er the 
baptism of ynuii»^ C«>nuor, for so had 
the child been called after his paternal 
pTandlkihcr, that as a JTistification far 
his own conduct in the matter of the 
chrUtenin^, he disclosed to Iiis wife 
yehh much reluctance and embarrass- 
ment, this undtvul^ed source of his 
fears tor the fnture, allegiti;? it as a just 
I argument for hh declining to he guided 
by her opinion. 

The indij^nant sympathies of the 

mother abashed, on this nccaainn, the 

niisfr^rable and calcnJatiug impiety uf 

\ the hnsband — ^her reproches were open 

I and uushr inking^, :^iid her moral sense 

of his conduct just and beantilnl. 

" FarduTou^^ia,** said slie, " 1 thought 

i up to this time — to tliis day, that there 

k was nothing in your heart but too 

I much of the world — but no^v I'm afctird 

[if God ha,*n*t sed it, that the devil 

I ]ii ms e IPs t here. Yotf re fret t in lb r frai d 

I of a family, but ha* God scut us any 

[but this one yit ? No — an 1 woufdVit 

I be surprised, if the Almighty wontd 

punish your guilty heart, by making 

ihc child he gave you, a cnrse, instead 

of a blessin'^ — I think as it is, be has 

brought little pleasure to ycni for so 

far, and if your heart hardens as he 

grows up, it's mo re unhappy you'll get 

every day yon live." 

" That*s very fine talk, Honora, but 
to people in our eoudilion, I cant sec 
any very great blcssiu* hi a kouscful of 



child re* If we're able to provide for 
this one, we*ll have rason to be thank- 
ful widout wishin" for njore." 

** It's my opinion. Fdrdorotigha. you 
donf love the child."* 

*' Change that opinion then, Honora, 
I do love the child — but there's no 
needcessity for blowin* it about to ever? 
one I meet. If I didn't love him, A 
wooldiVt feel as 1 do about ul) the 
hardships that may be belbre \utn* 
Think oF what a bad sason, or a failure 
of the craps, might bring us all to* 
God grant that we mayn't come to the 
bag and staff before he's settled in ihe 
world at all, poor thing/' 

" Oh very well, l^'ardorongha, you 
may make yourself as unhappy as you 
like ; for me, Ml put my trust in the 
Saviour of the world for my child. 
If you can trust in any one better than 
God do so. 

" Honora, there's no use in this talk — 
it 11 do nothing aither for him or us— 
besides, I have no more time to did- 
coorse about it." 

He then left her, but as she viewed 
hiss dark inflexible features ere he went, 
an oppressive sense of something not 
far removed from aftliction, weighed 
her down. The child had been asleep 
in her arms during the foregoing dia- 
logue, and after his father had departed, 
she placed him in the cradle^ and 
throwing the corner of her blue aprtm 
over her shoulder, she rocked him into 
a sounder sleep, swaying herself at 
the same time to and fro, with thai 
inward sorrow, of which among the 
lower classes of Irish females, this 
motion is uniformly exprcesive. 

It is not to be supposed, however, 
that as the early graces of chitdhoml 
gradually expanded (as they did) into 
mnre than ordinary beauty, the av«\nee 
of the father was not occixsionally en* 
countered iu its progress by sudden 
gushes of love for his son. It wa§ 
impossible for any parent, no matter how 
strongly the hideous idol of mamniou 
might sway his heart, to look u|>on a 
creature so lair and beautiful, without 
being frtiquently touched into some- 
thing Hkc affection. The fact was, that 
a* the child advanced towards yoiithf 
the two principles we arc describing 
nearly kept pace one witli ihe other. 
That the bad and formidable pa*4ioa 
made rapid strides, must be admitted, 
but that it engrossed the whole spirit 
of the father, is nut true. The ratfll 
and gentle character of the boy — his 
affect iotjale disposition, and the cjt- 
iraordlnary advantages of bis person^ 



I 



1B37.] 



The Convicts of lAsnamonai 



m 



could not fail sometimeft, to surprize 
his fiither into sudden bursts of affec- 
tion. But these, when they occurred', 
where looked upon by Fardorougha, 
as so many proofs that he still enter- 
tained for the boy love sufficient to 
justify a more intense desire of accu- 
mulating wealth for his sake. Indeed, 
ere the lad had numbered thirteen 
summers, Fafdorougha's character as 
a miser had not only gone far abroad 
through the neighbourhood, but was 
felt by the members of his own family, 
with almost merciless severity. From 
habits of honesty, and a decent sense 
of independence, he was now degraded 
to rapacity and meanness ; what had 
been prudence, by degrees degenerated 
into canning ; and he who when com- 
mencing life, was looked upon only as 
a saving man, had now become notori- 
ous for extortion and usury. 

A character such as this, among a 

f>eople of generous and lively feelin? 
ike the Irish, is in every state of 11^ 
the object of intense and undisguised 
abhorrence. It was with difficulty, he 
could succeed in engaging servants, 
either for domestic or agricultural pur- 
poses, and perhaps, no consideration, 
except the general kindness which was 
felt for bis wife and son, would have 
induced any person whatsoever to 
enter into his employment. Honora 
and Connor, did what in them lay to 
make the dependents of the family 
experteoce as little of Fardorougha's 
gnpiug tyranny as possible. Yet with 
all their kind-hearted ingenuity and 
secret bounty, they were scarcely able 
to render their situation barely tolerable. 

It would be difficult to find any lan- 
guage, no matter what pen might wield 
It, capable of pourtraying the love 
which Honora O'Donovan bore to her 
gentle, her beautiful, and her only son. 
Ah ! there, in that last epithet, lay the 
chafm which wrapped her soul in him, 
and in all that related to his welfare. 
The moment she saw that it was not 
the will of God to bless them with 
other offspring, her heart gathered 
about him with a jealous tenderness, 
trhich trembled into agony at the idea 
of his loss. 

Her love for him, then multiplied 
itself into many hues, for he was in 
truth the prism, on which when it fell, 
all the varied beauty of its colours, 
became visible. Her heart gave not 
forth the music of a single instrument, 
but breathed the concord of sweet 
sounds, as heard from the blended me- 
lody of many. Fearfully different 



from this were the feelings of Fardo- 
rougha, on finding that he was to be 
the first and the last vouchsafed to their 
union. A single regret, however, 
scarcely felt, touched even him, when 
he reflected that if Connor were to 
be removed from them, their hearth 
must become desolate. But then came 
the fictitious conscience, with its ne- 
farious calculations, to prove that in 
their present circumstances, the dispen- 
sation which withheld others was a 
blessing to him that was given. Even 
Connor himself, argued the miser, 
will be the gainer by it, for what would 
my five loaves and three fishes be among 
so many. The pleasure, however, that 
is derived from the violation of natural 
affection, is never either full or satis- 
factory. The gratification felt by Far- 
dorougha, upon reflecting that no 
further addition was to be made to their 
family, resembled that which a hungry 
man feels who dreams he is partaking 
of a luxurious banquet. Avarice, it is 
true, like fancy, was gratified, but the 
enjoyment, though rich to that parti- 
cular passion, lefl behind it a sense of 
unconscious remorse, which gnawed his 
heart with a slow and heavy pain, that 
operated like a smothered fire, wast- 
ing what it preys upon, in secrecy 
and darkness. In plainer terms, he 
was not happy, but so absorbed in the 
ruling passion — ^the pursuit of wealth, 
that he felt afraid to analyze his anxiety, 
or trace to its true source the cause of 
his own misery. 

In the mean time, his boy grew up 
the pride and ornament of the parish, 
idolized by his mother, and beloved by 
all that knew him. Limited and scanty 
was the education which his father 
could be prevailed upon to bestow 
upon him ; but there was nothing that 
could deprive him of his natural good 
sense, nor of the affections which his 
mother*s love had drawn out and cul- 
tivated. One thing was remarkable in 
him, which we mention with reluctance, 
as it places his father*s character in a 
frightful point uf view ; it is this, that 
his love for that father, was such as is 
rarely witnessed, even in the purest 
and most affectionate circles of domes- 
tic life. But let not our readers infer 
either from what we have written, or 
from any thing we may write, that 
Fardorougha hated this lovely and 
delightful boy ; on the contrary, earth 
contained not an object, except his 
money, which he loved so welL His 
affection for him, however, was only 
such as could proceed from the dregs 



224 



Fardorougfiaj the Miter ; or, 



[Feb. 



of a defiled and perverted heart. This 
is not E^yin^ much, but it is sayings alL 
What in him was parental altticlnneut, 
would in anuiher man» to &u('h a son, 
he urifeermgarid detestiihle intiiiFerLMice. 
His heart sank on contenijjlaling the 
putance he allowed for Cumior's edu- 
cation ; and no remonslrunee cmild 
prevkiil on him to clothe the boy with 
common decency. Pocket-rnoney was 
out of the qtn stion, as were all those 
coneidttLite indulgences to youth, that 
blunt when timely atiordc-d, the edge 
of eddy anxiety to know those amuse- 
ments of hFe, which it' not iunt^ceutly 
gratiHed before pas^ion gets strong", are 
apt to prodncc at a later period, that 
^iddy hitoxic'dtion, which has been the 
destruction of thousiinds. When Con- 
nor, however grew up, and began to 
think for himst-'lf, he could not help 
feeling, llut from it man so absolutely 
devoted to wealth as Ids father was, 
to receive even the slenderest proof of 
affection, wu5 in this case no common 
manifestalion of the atlaehnn:^nt he 
bore him. There was still a Idg-her 
end nobler motive. He could not close 
his cars to the character whicli Iiad 
g^one abroad of his father* and from 
that iirincijile of generosity, which in- 
duces a man, even when ignorant of 
the quarrel, lo take the weaker side, 
he fotight his battles, until in the end, 
he began to believe them jn?t. But 
the most obvious cause of ihe son's 
attachment we have not mentioned, 
and it is tiseless to travel into vain dis- 
quisilions, Ibr thut truth which mwy be 
found in the instinctive impulse* of 
nature. He was Connor'a father, 
and though penurious in every thing 
that regarded even his sons common 
condbrt, he had never uttered a harsh 
word to him during his life» or denied 
him any gratiti cation which could he 
had VI i t h o u t m o ney^ N ay , a k i nd w or d , 
or A kind K:lance, from Fardomuglia, 
fired I he sou s resentment against the 
world which traduced him ; for how 
could it be otherwise, when the habi- 
tual defence made by him, when ar- 
rnigned for his penury, was an anxiety 
lo provide for the future welfare and 
independence of his son. 

Many chftfacters in life, appear ditli- 
cuk lo be understood, but if those who 
vrish to analyze them only consulted 
human nature, instead of rushinjf into 
farfetched theories, and traced with 
patience the clfect which intereM, m 
habit, or inclination is apt to produce 
on men of a peculiar temperament, 
when placed in certain silualions, there 



would be much less dilHridty in Avmd- 
ing those preposterous ejihibitions which 
run into caricature, or outrage the 
wildest combinations that e^ti W 
formed from the common eleoLents of 
humanity. 

Having said thos much, we irtll beg 
our readers to suppose that yoyn^ 
Connor is now twentv-two yeitrs of 
age, and request them besides, to pre- 
pare for the gloom which is tibout to 
overshadow our story* 

We have already stated that Far- 
dorougha was not only an extortioner 
but a usurer. Now, as some tif our 
readers may be surprised that a man m 
his stJition of life could |»racttse asufv 
or even extortion to any considcrdbfc 
extentj we feel it neci*isary lo inform 
them thut there exists among Iri«h 
farmers a class of men who stand, with 
respect to the surrounding poor and 
improvident, in a position precisely 
anah)gons to that which is occupied by 
a Jew or money -lender among those 
in the higher classes who borrow, and 
are extravagant upon a larger scale. 
If, for insitance, a struggling small far- 
mer have to do with a needy landlord 
or an unfeermg agent, who threatens to 
seize or eject if the rent be not paid to 
the da}', perhaps this small farmer Is 
forced to borrow from one of those 
rustic Jews the full amount of the gale ; 
for this he gives hitn at a valuation» 
dictated by the lenders avarice and 
his own distress, the oats, or potiitocj, 
or hay, which he is not able to dispone 
of in sufficient time to meet the demund 
that is upon him. This properly, the 
miser tlraws home, and slacks or houses 
it until the markets arc high, when he 
disposes of it kit a price which often se- 
cures for him a profit amounting to 
one-third, and occasionally onu-half 
above the sum lent, upon which in ihe 
meantime, interest is accumulating. 
For instance, if the accommodatiou be 
twenty pounds, property to that amouut 
at a ruinous valuation is brought home 
by the acconnnodator. This (Mfthnjts 
sells for thirty, thirty-five, or fi>rty 
pounds, so that deducting the htbourof 
prf^pitring it for market, there b a gain 
of fifly, seventy- five, or an hundred per 
cent, oesiiles, probably, ten per cent. 
interest, which is Hltogcther distinct 
from the former. This class of per- 
fions will altjo take a joint bond or 
joint protnissory note, or, in fact iinf 
collateral security they know to be 
valid, and if the contract be not ful- 
filled, they immediately pounce upon 
the guarantee. They will, la fact* as 



r 



1837,] 



The ConmdM of Limiamona* 



225 



a mark of ibeir ftnxiety to assist a 
neighbour in dlstrpsd, receive a pig 
from a widow, or a cow from a strug^g^liii^ 
small farmer, at thirty or forty pnr 
cent, beneath its valuer ^"d clalcD the 
merit of being^a frientl into the bai^io. 
Such men are bitter enemies to paper 
money, especidlly to nntes isi^tjeti by 
private bankers, which they never take 
in payment. It is anmsiii^, if w pcr- 
fon could furget the distress which oc- 
casions the scene, tci obs^Tve one of 
these men producing an o!d stocking-^ 
or a long black leathern purse — or a 
caff-fikiti pocket-book with the hair on, 
and couiiiiu'r down, as if he gave out 
hi* heart's blood drop by drop, the spe- 
cific sum, uttering at the same time, a 
most kitful)rious history of his own po- 
verty, and assuring the poor wretch he 
is fleecing-, that if he (the miser) gives 
way to his good nature, he must ulti- 
mately become the victim of his own 
benevolence. In no caae, however, do 
they ever put more in the parse or 
stocking tbao is ju-it then wanted, arid 
lOtneiimes they wdl be short a guinea 
or ten shillings, which they borrow 
rrotn a neighbour, or remit lo the un- 
fortunatp dupe in the course of the 
day. This they do in order to en- 
hance the obligation, and give a dis- 
tinct proof of their poverty. Let not, 
therefore, the gentlemen of the Mino' 

net, nor our P s and our M s 

nearer home, imagine for a moment that 
they engross the spirit of ra|)acity and 
eilorl ion to themselves. To the credit of 
the cl«ss, however, to which they belongs 
stir^ ■ arc notso numerous as for- 

\iu > the Btilf greater hf^Jiour of 

tht j.v.is.ii.Lry belt suid,lhe devil hisnself 
W not hated with half the detestation 
which is borne them. In order thiit 
the reader may understand our motive 
fnr introducing such a dLseriptirm as 
thjtt we have now given, it will be ne- 
ccftsary for us to request tiim to ac- 
company a stoat wclUet 3^ounij mun, 
iiiioaed Bnrtle Flanagan, along a trreen 
dttieh, which, planted with osier?, leads 
td small meadow belonging to Far- 
dohjugha Douovjin. In this meadow, 
his son Connor is now inakiiti^hiiy,und 
on seeing Flanagan approach, he rests 
upon the lop of bis rake, and exclaims 
tn a soliloquy : — 

** God help you and yours, Bartle — 
if U «ra* in my power, 1 take God to 
w^ncMS, Vi\ mAc up wid a willin* 
heart, for all the hiirdship and mis- 
ffirtiific my fiither brought upon you 
all." 

He then resumed hil labour, in order 
VuL. IX. 



that the meeting between him and 
Bartle might take place with less em- 
barrassment, for he saw at once that the 
former was about to speak to him. 

** Esn*t tlie weather too hot, Connor, 
to work bartiheaded. I think you 
ought to keep on your bat. 

'* Bartle, how are you— off* or on, it's 
the same thing ; hat or no hat» il^s 
broihu^ weather, the Lord be praised j 
what news, Bartle ?** 

'* Not much, Connor, but what you 
know^^ family that was strugglin* but 
honest, brought to dis^olation. VVeVc 
broken up ; my father and mothcr*a 
both liviu' in a cabin they tuck from 
Billy NuUby ; Mary and Alick'a gone 
to sarvice, an' myseffs just on my way 
to hire wid the last man I ought to go 
to— your lather, that is, supposin' we 
can agree.*" 

** As heaven*s above me, Bartle, 
there*s not a man in the county this 
day sorrier for what has ha|ipeiied than 
mviclf. But the truth is, that wlien my 
father lieiird of Tom Ore ban, that was 
your security, bavin* gone to Auicrica, 
he thought every dny a mtmlh till the 
note Wins due. My mother an' I did 
all we could, but you know his tem- 
per ^ 'twas no use. God know^, as 1 
said before, I'm heart s«vrry for it." 

** Every one knows, Connor, that if 
your mother an' you had your vrxy an' 
will, your father wouldn't be slch a 
screw as he is.** 

'* In the meantime, don't forget that 
he is my father, Bartle, an* above all 
things, remirnber that Til allow no man 
to speak dij^paraginly of hi in in my 
presence." 

'• I believe youll allow, Connor, that 
he was a scourge an' a curse to tis, au* 
that none of us ought to like a bune ia 
his skin." 

" It cotiurnt be expected vou would^ 
Bai tie, but you must grant, after all, that 
he was only recoverin' Im own. Still, 
when you know what my feeling is 
upun the business^ 1 dun't ihiuk it's 
generoua in you to bring it up between 
us.** 

** I could bear his barrishin* ns out 
of liouse an* home,** proceeded the 
other, '* only for one thought that stilt 
crapses in an tne." 

*' What is that, Bartle ? — God knows 
I can't help f^-elio' for yon,'* he atlded, 
smote witn the desolation which his 
father hud brought upon (he family. 

** He lent us forty ryuuds,'* |5T0- 
ceeded the young mun ; **und when he 
fout)d that 'I'oin Grehan, our security, 
went to Auierjca, be came down upon 



12ii 



FardarougJia the Miser ; oVj 



[Feb- 



us the minute the note was dye, catited 
all we had at half price, and turned ua 
to starve upon the world ; iJ0W» 1 could 
bear th-u, hut there's one thin^ -" 

*• Thais twicr ynu spoke about that 
one ikiu^,** said Couuor, somewhat 
sljirply, fur he felt hurt at the obetiuacy 
of the other, in continuing a sulyecl so 
distressing to him; " buC* he con- 
tinued, in a milder tone, " tt:ll me» 
Bartle, f«r g-oodness* sake» what it is» 
ati' let us put an end to the dlscoorse* 
I'm sure it most be unpleasant to both 
of us." 

** It does'nt pi^^uiry," replied the 
jroniijj man, m a des^poudlng v^dce — 
jt/if** gone ; it's all over wid me there ; 
I'm a bef^gar — Vm a beggar." 

** Bartle," said Counor, Liking his 
hand, *' you're too nitieh down-hearted, 
come to u», but firM go to my fttther ; 
I know youl! liuil it hard to deal with 
him. ^fever mind that, whatever he 
offers you, close wid him, un' take my 
word for it that my mother and I be- 
tween ua, will make you up ducent 
Images J an* surry 1 am that it's come 
to this with you. poor fellow * 

Battle's eheek grew pule as aislies ; 
he wrun|r Connor's huud with idl his 
force, and Kxed an utishrinking eye on 
him .IS he replied— 

** Tiiank you» Connor, now — but I 
hope ril live to th:ink you hGiihcT j/et, 
and if 1 do* VQU need'nl thank tne for 
isny return i may make yon or yours. 
I will elo«e wid vour father, an take 
whatsnmevcr hc1l ofler me ; for Con- 
nor*" and he wrung bis hand again ;— . 
" Connor O* Donovan I hav*nt a house 
or home tliis day, nor a place under 
Ciod*3 cano[iy where to lay my head, 
exee[kt upm the damp fioor of my fa- 
ther's naked cabin. Think of that, 
Connor, au' think if I can forget it i 
BtUl," he added, "yrxril see Connor — 
Connor i^ou*li *ec how rUforgivt U,^ 

** It's a credit to yourself to spake as 
you do,** readied Connur ; **eull thii 
way, an' let rac know what*s done, an' 
I hope, Baltic, you an* I will have 
some pleasant days together," 

** Ay, atr pleasant nii^bts too, I 
hope, replied the other j " to be sure 
ril call; but if you lake ray advice, 
you'd ihi a hankerchy nhout your head : 
its mad hot, an* enough to give one a 
(iiver birehc'ded. 

Havirna: made this last obpervation, 
he leaped aeroijs a small drain that 
bounded the mead^iw, and proceeded 
U|j the Holds to Farilorou|jihu*s houi^e, 

Bartle Flanagan was a young man, 
about five feet six in height, but of a 



remarkably compact and athletic form. 

His eomplexton was dark, but hiseuun- 
tenance optn, and his features well set 
and regular, Inileed, Ids whole ap- 
pearduee might be termed bland aod 
prepossessing. If he ever appeared to 
disadvantage it was whibt under the 
influence of resentment, during which 
his face became pale as death, uay, al- 
most livid, and, a* his brows were 
Btron;^ and black, the contrast between 
them and his complexion, changed tlie 
whole expression of his eounteuauce 
into that of a person whose enmity a 
]>rudenl man would avoid. He wa» 
not quarrelsome, however, nor subject 
to any impetuous burets of paa.«ion ;— > 
his resentments, if be retained any, 
were either dead or silent, or at all 
events, so well regulated that his ac- 
quaintances looked upon him as a young 
fellow of a good-humoured and friendly 
diiipositiou. It is true, a hint had gone 
abroad that on one or two occasions he 
wa.^ found deticient in courage, but, as 
the circumstances referred to wert? 
rather unimportant, his conduct by 
many wus attributed rather to good 
sense and a disinclination to quarrel on 
frivolous grounds, than to positive 
cowardice. Such he was, and such he 
is, now that he hus entered upoo the 
humble dran>a of (iur story. 

On arriving at Fardorougha's house, 
he found that worthy man at dinner, 
upon a cold bone i>f bacon and pota- 
toes. He had only a few mtnutfts be* 
fore returned from the residence of the 
County Treasurer, with whom he went 
to lodge, among other sums, that which 
was 60 iniquitously wrung from thtt 
ruin of the Flanagans. It would be 
wrong to say that he fek in any degree 
embarrassed on looking into ihe face 
of one whom he had so oppressively 
injured* The recovery of his u runout 
delJts, no matter how merciless the 
process, he couaidcrcd only as an act 
u f St ri ct j as I lee to b i m s el f, I'o r h is CO a- 
Bcience having long ago outgrown the 
perception of his own innutnanity, 
now only felt eompouction when death 
or liie occasional insolvency of a se- 
curity tlefeated his rapacity. 

When tSartle entered, Fardorougha 
and he surveyed each other with per- 
fect coolness for nearly half a minute, 
during which time neither uttered a 
word. The silence was first broken by 
Honora, who put forward a chair, and 
a>iked Flan:igan to sit down, 

** Sit dovvn, liartle," said she, ** sit 
down, bov ; an' how is all the family T 

***Dced. can*t complain,* replied 



I 



18370 



Hie Convicts nf Ltsncimona* 



227 



Bartle, "as time groes; an' how are 
you, Fardoroup'lia ? althnug^b I lu^ed'nt 
&x, jou're takiti* care of number one, 
any how.'* 

" Fm nii<ldliti\ Bartle, middlin' ; as 
well as a man can be that has hU heart 
broke every day in the vfar etrivin' to 
come bv bis own, an' can't do it ; but 
rm a foolt an' ever was — sarvhi' others 
an' mini h" my self." 

•• Bartle,'* said Mrs. Donovan, ** are 
you unwell^ dear ; you look as pale us 
death. Let me get you a drink of 
fresh milk." 

"If he's weak,** said Fardoroughai 
*• an* he looks weak, a driuk of fre^h 
wather 'ud be belther for him ; ever an* 
always a drink of wather for a weuk 
man, or a weak woman aither ; it re- 
covers iliem sooner " 

** Thank you, kindly, M>s. Dono- 
van, an* l*m oblaged to yon, Fardo- 
rougha, for the wather ; but Fm not a 
bit weak ; it's only the heut o' I he day 
ail^ me — for sure enoyg^h it's broil in' 
wcallicr.* 

***Deeditis,'*rc|»lifd Honor, "kilJin' 
weather to them that has to be out 
uiidhf'r ir.** 

•* If it fi good for nothjn else, it's good 
for the hay-makiu',** obiJerved Fardo* 
rf>ugha. 

*• Fin toiild, Misther Donovan,'* said 
Bartle, •* that you wnnt a sarviot man ; 
now, if you do, I want a place, an' you 
see Fm comin' to you to look for 
ene." 

•• Heavi^n ftl>ove, Bartlc," rxclnimetl 
Honor,*** what do you mane ? is it one 
of Dan Flanagan's sons goin' to sar- 
Fice?* 

*• Not one, but all o' them." replied 
file other, coolly » " an' his daughters, 
tiin, Mrs. Donovan ; but ii*s all the way 
«• the worhL If Misther Donovan '11 
hire me, Fll thank him," 

•• Don't be Misthcrin rae, B;irt!f ; 
Mi^thtr them that has inaues an* aub- 
itance,** returned Donovan. 

** Oh God forgiveyou, F irdorougha," 
rxclaimed his honest and humane wife, 
** God forgive you ! Battle, from my 
heart, from the core o' my liearl I pity 
you, my poor boy. An' is it to this 
Fardorougha you've brou^rht them y— 
Oh Savour o' the world !" 

She fixed her eyes^ upon the victim 
of her husband'^ ext>vrtion, and in an 
instant they were filled with tears, 

"What did 1 do,*' said the latter, 
*bul strive to recover my own. How 
could I afford to lose lorty [)ounds? 
An* I was tould for sartin that your 
filth er knew Greban was goin' to Ame- 



riky when he got him to go security. 
Whislit Honor, youVe as foolish a wo- 
man as riE this day ; hav'nt you your 
sins to cry for ?"* 

** God knows 1 have, Fardorougha, 
an* more than my own to cry for." 

** I dar say you did hear as much," 
said Barlle, qniedy refalyiiig to the ob- 
servation of Fardorougha resjwecting 
his father ; " but you know it's a folly 
to talk abont spilt milk. If you want 
a sarvint Fll hire i for, as 1 suiil a 
while ugone, / want a place, an' except 
wid you 1 dont know where to get 
one." 

'* If you come to me," observed the 
other, " you must go to your duty, an* 
obsarve the fast days — but not the 
holydays." 

** Sarvints isn't oblaged to obsarve 
them,*' re]>lietl Bartle. 

**But 1 always put it in the bargain,** 
returned the other. 

" As to that," said Burtlct " J dont 
much mind it. Sure it'll be for the 
good o* my sowl, anv way. But, what 
wages will you be givin' T* 

** Thirty shillins every half-year; — 
that's three ponndii, — sixty shillins a- 
year, A great deal o' money. — I'm 
sure I dnnna wlicrc it's to come from/* 

ii [^'g veyy ijule lor a year's hard 
labour,*' replied Bjirtle; "but little as it 
is, Fardoroyghii, owin' to whut has 
happenetl betwixt us, believe me — an* 
you matf beticve mc^ — Fiu right glad 
to take it." 

*• Well, hut Bartle, yon know there's 
fifteen shilling of the ould arcoiuit still 
due, an* yoo most allow it out o' your 
wa^res ; if you doni, it's no bargain." 

Bartle s face became livid \ but he 
was perfeclty cool; — iTidecd so much 
so that he smiled at this last condition 
of Fardorougflia, II wai« a smile, how- 
ever, at once so ghastly, dark, and 
frightful, that, by any person capable of 
tracing the secret workings of some 
deadly |>assion on the countenance, its 
purport could not have hern tnistaken. 

"God knows, Fardoroii*>hi4, you 
might let thai pass, — considher that 
you*vc been hurd enough upon us." 

*' God knows I say the same," ob- 
served Hnnor, " Is it the last drop o' 
the heart's blood you want to s<^ueeze 
out, Fkirdorongha f" 

** The last drop ! Whut is it I nit ray 
ri^^ht? Am 1 rt>bbin' him V Isn't it 
due? Will he, or can he deny //iik/ .^ 
An* if it's due isn't it hut honest in 
him to pay it ? TheyVe not livin' can 
say 1 ever defrauded ihem of a penny. 
I never broke a bargain { an' yet you 



Fardorcfugha the Miser ; or 



[Feb. 



open (Ai me. Honor, a« if I was a 
rugue : If I hadn't ihat boy below to 
provide for, un" »(*ule in ihe world, 
what "lid 1 care about money V It's for 
his sake 1 look uI'lIut my ii^-lit." 

'"111 allow the morn?y," said Bartlo. 
** I?4»rdoroo;<ha's rii»ht; it'* due, an I'll 
pay him — ay wilM, Fardorougba, set- 
tle wid you to the liist farden, or beyaiit 
it, if you like." 

** I wouldn't take a fiirdf^n bey ant it» 
in the ^biipe of debt. Tliem that^s de- 
cetit enough to make a j present — may, — 
for that's a horse of another colour,'* 

*♦ Wbf n will I coine home *r en- 
fjuirf'd Burtle. 

" You may fitay at home, now that 
yonVe here," said the other. ** An' in 
the maive time, go an* help Connor to 
\itil that bay iii lap-ei>ck.*. Anything 
yon want to bring nere you can bring 
aflher yonr day's work to-night." 

'* Did yon ate yr>ur dinner, Bartle," 
laid Honor ; *• bekase if you didn't 
ril get yon something." 

*^ It's not to tbi-* time o' day he'd be 
vidont his dinner, I suppose, observed 
[his in^w master. 

" You're very riffht, Fardorongha" 
ijoiiied Bartle ; Fin thankful lo yon, 
'flia'am, I did ate my (iiimer." 

** Web, you'll get a rake in the i):iru, 
Bdrile"8aKl his masterj "an' now tramp 
blown to Connor, an' Til see how youil 
handle yourselves, both o* you, trom 
[tliis till nig-ht." 

B.irtle :icconl5n^ly prorcrded to- 
wards the meadow, and Fardorougha, 
J«s was his cojitom, throwing his great 
oat b^osely about his shuulders, the 
Imrms dangliug on each side of hi in, 
|J>rocfpded to auother part of his farm, 
I Flanagan's step, on hts way to join 
[Connor, was slow and meditative. The 
kindness of the son and mother toucb- 
ftd him; for the line between their dia- 
[position and Fardort>ugha*s was too 
[ strong and clear to allow the slightest 
[tuspleion of their participation in the 
[tpirtt wliich regulated his bfe. The 
[lUther, however, had just declared that 
[his anxiety to aecumulate money arose 
[from a wish to settle his S'>n indq)ou- 
Idently in life; and FUmigan was too 
Blightly acquainted with human cha- 
racter to see through this tiimsy apo- 
logy for extortion. He took it for 
gr.fcnted that Fardorougba spoke truth, 
and his n'fsfdution received a bias from 
the impression, which, however, his 
better n.dure determined to subdue. 
In this niiecrtain state n\' mind he 
turncii about almost instinciively, to 
look in the direction which Fardo- 



rougba had taken, and a^ he obsrrvrd 
his diminutive figure creeping alotnf 
with his great coat about him, he fell 
tbiit the very sight of the umn wW 
had brokcTi up their hearth and &ciit- 
lered them tni tlic world, lillt?d his 
benrt with n deep and deadly iinimo* 
sity thai oeeasioued liim to |)Hnse y^ « 
person would do sv bo HmU him^lf un- 
expectedly upon the brink of u |*r€- 
cipice, 

Connor, on seeing him enter the 
meadow with the rake, knew at once 
that the terras had been eonclnded be- 
tween them; and the excellent youog 
man's heart was deeply moved ^t the 
destitution which fbicfcl Flanutraii to 
seek lor service with the v«fry indivi* 
dual who had otx^a^ioned it. 

** I see, Bartle/* said h<v "vou have 
agreed,*' 

" We have," replied Battle. •* But 
if there had been any other place to 
be got in the ]rariah-J(an* indeed only 
Jbr the ^tatc Fm in) — I wouldn*t have 
hired myself to him for nothing, or for 
next to niitbing, a* I have done." 

" Why, what did he promise ?" 

"Three pounds a year, an* out o* 
that I'm to pay him iilleen shtUins that 
my father owes hiuj &iill." 

" Close eiiou^'h, Buitle, but dont be 
cast down ; Fll undertake that my 
motlter an' 1 will double it, — an* as for 
the tifteen shilling I'll pay them out o* 
my own j>ocket — ^wlun l get money. 
I needn't tell you that weVe all kept 
up4»n the tight criK and that tittle 
cash goes far with us i for all that well 
do what I promiiif^, go us it may.'* 

" It's more iUim I ought to expect* 
Connor; but yourself and your m»o- 
thrT, all the eounthry would put iheir 
hands undher both your feets," 

" 1 would give a great dale, Bartle, 
tbrtt my poor father had a little of the 
fGebii' that*s in my mother's heart; but 
it's his way, Bartle, an* you know be*# 
uiy father, an' has been kinder to me 
than to any livin* creature on this 
eartli, I never got a harsh word fifom 
him yet. An' if he kept me stinted in 
many things that ( wa« entitled to as 
well as other persons like me, still, 
Bartle, he loves me an' 1 cant but feel 
great artection for him, luve the money 
as he may.*' 

This was spoken with much sertouft-* 
ncss oF manner, not uti mingled with 
sonic what of regret, if not uf sorrcMi-. 
Uiirlk" fixed his eye upon I lie line faee 
of hi«i C''m[umi«kn, with a look in which 
there was a chaiaeter of conipa^ion. 
His countenance, however, wbHc he 







Tht Cofwkts of lAmamoHa, 



229 



IjfBzed on him, tnjiintalucd its aaturiil 
icolour« — il was tiot jjale.'* 

** I am sorrj', Connor," said lie slow- 
' 1 am sorry ibat 1 hired wid your 
ither." 

** All* I'm gluJ of it " replied the 
tber ; ** why should yyti be sorry Y* 

Bartle uiade no answer for some 

lime, but looked into the ground, as if 

be bad not hcurd him. 

** Why shouhl you be sorry, Bartle Y* 

Nearly a minute elapsed before his 

abstraction was broken* ** Wbdt's 

bat T suid he at leng^th : ** What were 

(fou dskirtg- me V" 

Vim said you were sorry?" 

' Oh uy !" returned the other, iiiter- 

ptillg him i "^but I didn't mind ulidt 

IBMyin' : 'twiis ihliikin' o' aoirictlnir 

I X fhifi — of home, Bartie, mi what 

re're brought to j but the best way's 

dhrop yil dbcoorae about that for 

**\qvl\\ be my friend if you do," said 
[Connor. 

" I wilt, thpn," replied Bartle : ** we'll 

l|Cliange il. Connori were you ever in 

Lire ?" 

O'Donovan turned quickly about, 

[ivid, with a keen gluuce at Bartle, 

repliedt 

W*by, I dani know : I believe I 
night, ouce or so." 

•' / aiiC said Flanagan bitterly ; '* / 
yjM, Connor/* 

** An* Mr bo's the happy craturc* will 
Ifuo tell ua ?'' 

** No." returned the other ; ** but if 

here's a wish ihiU Fd make ag^ainst 

I'orst enemy, 'twould be, that he 

i Jove a girl above bis munes i ws 

Be was her aquil, or even near ber 

[aquil, that he might l>e brought*' 

i he paused, but immcdiditely proceeded, 
' Well, no matter ; 1 am indeed, Coii- 
^nor." 

•* An' li the girl fond o* ynu T 
*• I doot know ; my mind wtus made 
«p to tell her ; but it's past that now^ ; 
1 know she's wealthy and proud both, 
i4]d so is all her family/* 

" How do you know she's proud 
hen you never put the subject to 
fberr 

•* Fro not say in' she's proud, in one 
wnsc ; wid respect to herself^ 1 btdieve, 
•he* bumble enough ; 1 mane, she 
doesn't give herself raiiny airs, but her 
people's as proud as the very sarra, an' 
never match below them ; stilly if I'd 
opportunities of bein' often in ber 
company, I'd not fear to try it to a 
ivirect tongiie for comin' round her/* 
* Never despair, Bartle," said Con^ 



nor ; "you know the ould proviTb. * a 
faint heart ;* however, set til/ ihi- purty 
crature aside, -whoLver she is* 1 think 
if we dividetl ourselvt^ — you to that 
Bide, an' me to thi^ — we'd get this hay 
laj)|rd in half the time j or do you take 
which bide you plase/' 

" Ii*s a bargain/* said Bartle ; " I 
don't cure a (rawneeti : I'll stay vihere 
I am, thin, an* do you go bey ant : let 
us hurrj\ too, for, if I'm not mistaken, 
its too sultry to be lung wiihont rain ; 
the sky, too, is gettln' dark/' 

*' 1 obsarved as much myself/' vaid 
Connor ^ "an that was whit made me 
s J lake," 

Both then continued their bbour 
with redoubled energy, nor eeused for 
» moment until the lask was t xecutcd, 
and the businesi^ of the day eiuitlmled. 

Flanagans obaervaiion Wii* indeed 
correct, as to the ehuuLie in the duy and 
the appearance of the ttky* From the 
hour of five o'ehiek the dt^ikness gra- 
dually deepened, until a dead black 
shadow, fearfully Eitili and salemii, 
wrapped the whole horizon. Tlie sun 
had alto;j^etber disapfie^red,and nothing 
was visible in llie sky but one unbroken 
ma<ia of darkufss, unrelieved even by a 
single pile of clouds. The animals, 
where maty could, had bLtaken them- 
selves lo shelter ; the fowls of the air 
soBgbt the covert of the hedge?, and 
ceased tbeir songs ; the larks fled from 
the mtd heaven j and occasionally might 
Le seen a straggling bee hurrying 
homewards, careless of the flowers 
which tempted him in his path, and 
oidy anxious to reach his bivc before 
the deluge .should nvertake him. The 
stillness indeed wiis avi ful, as was the 
gloomy veil which darkened the face 
of nature, and filled the mind with that 
ominous terror vv hich presses upon tfie 
heart like a corpciousness of guilt. In 
such a time, and under the aspect of a 
sky so much resembling the pall of 
death, there is neither mirth uor laugh- 
ter, but that individuality of apjirebeu- 
sion, which, whilst it throws the con- 
science in upon its own records, and 
suspends conversatiori, yet draws man 
to nie fellows, as if mere contiguity 
were a safeguard against danger. 

The conversation between the tw*o 
vouiig men, as they returned from their 
labour, was short but expressive. v» i 

" Bartle,*' suid Connor, " are you 
afeard of thundher ? The raacm I aj^,'* 
he added, " is, bekase your face is as 
white as a sheet/* 

" I have it from my mother,'* replied 
Flanagan ; " but at all evints such an 



230 



Th^ Church of England Quarterfy Review, 



eveum' as this is enough to tnakc the 
heart of any raan quake/* 

" I feci my spirits low, by rason of 
the durkiie^a, but Vm nut ufriLid. It's 
well fur them that hiive a clear con- 
flcieticti ; they say, thiit a etartny sky i» 
the face of an angry God" 

" An' the tluuniher hi^ voice," added 
Bartle : " but why are the brute bastes 
UTi' the birds afrukit that com mil uo 
Bin r 

** Thai's thrue,** said his companion ; 
** it tniist be uatural tr* be afraid, or 
why would Ihe^ indeed ? — ^but soaie 
people arc naturally more timersoine 
than others.*- 

** 1 iiitinded to go home for my other 
elo'es an* Vuwn this cveohi'/* ubserved 
Bartle, ** but I wont ^o out to-uight/* 

" I must, thill,** said Counor ; " an', 
with the btessin* o' God, will loo j come 
what may*" 

** Why, what is thpre to brin^ you 
outt if it's a fair cjut^Btion to ax ?" en- 
qulreil the other 

*' A jjrouiiiie, for one tiling ; an' my 
ovrn iucliiiation^ — my own heart — that*a 
nearer the thruth — lor another, lis the 



first meetin' that I an' her Tm goiu' 
ever had,*' 

" Thighum^ T/tigkum, I uiidhef^ 
stanil,'* said Flanajann : " wdl, 111 stay 
at home ; but, sure it's no barm to wish 
you strccese — an* that, CoDnor is more 
than rii ever have where I wish for it 
most.** 

This dosed their dialog^ue, Bod both 
entered Ftirdoroufi:ha*s house id silence. 

Up until twilight the darkness of the 
dull and heavy sky wa^ unbroken ; but 
towar^ls the west iliere was seen 4i 
streak whose colour could not be deier- 
miiied as that of blood or fire* By 
its aii^ry look, it seemed as if the sky 
in thai quarter were about ti) burst 
forth in one awful sweep of contiaara- 
tion» Coi>nor oijscrveU it, and very 
correctly anlicipated the nature and 
consequences of its appearance ; but 
what will not youthful love dare and 
overcome? With an undismayed heart 
he set forwartl on his journey, which 
we hiave liim to pursue, and beg permii^ 
siou, meanwhile, to transport the reader 
to a scene distant about two miles> farther 
towards the inland pyirt of the country* 



THE CUUECH OF ENGLAND QU&RTCTRLY REVTEVfJ^ 



It is not our custom to notice our pe- 
riodical conlempuraries ; but k w^ouid 
be a custom mo^t "honored in the 
breach,** that shun Id withhold a Con- 
servative jounitil frorii welcoming to 
the lifld a t'oiifpiliTate so vigcirous and 
promising as ** The Church of England 
Quarterly Review," Nor should we, 
where so many able and intelligent 
papers and periodicals deserve the 
highest praise fur their active efficiency 
in th(^ rituhteons common cause, think 
it filtiriji^ to pay siirh m tribute to this 
first demonstration of one* but for the 
paramount im porta i ice of the ground 
ttiken up by our new ally. 

The enemies of the Constitution 
have in nothing so clearly inuuifested 
thai evil wii^iiom which has heeti uttri« 
buted to the " rhildreii of this world,** 
as in their a*S5iults upon the Church » 
Their irpponent?? have ably met these 
intquitou!« assailants, a» well they 
might, on cimstitutional ground — they 
have wuTstfd tbcui in every qtie?ttion 
of legal or equitable principle — they 
have chB«€d them out of each '* refuge 



of lies,'* and exposed them ihrotis'h 
every artifice. But broadly and deeply 
as the Chnrch is based in constitutional 
right and expediency, she has a nobler 
claim on the Conservative mind of 
England; The Church of England i